Chapter Text
In every universe, there’s someone designated to carry the weight of the story on their shoulders. A hero chosen by fate, or bad luck, or whatever cosmic forces decide who gets to swing across skyscrapers and who gets to stay safely on the ground. Especially in Queens, New York, where everyone expects the friendly neighborhood vigilante to be a boy in red and blue— Peter Parker, the quintessential SpiderMan.
Except in this world, fate made a clerical error or perhaps, it just got impatient.
Instead of a high school boy carrying the heroic responsibility of Queens, all that chaos, power, and secret identity drama was supposed to fall squarely on me— Lara Jean Song-Covey. A girl who would much rather be organizing her vintage cardigan collection, baking snickerdoodles, or writing poetic written letters that aren’t meant for anyone’s eyes to see. But the universe doesn't exactly consult your preference for pastel aesthetics before handing you a destiny that you could never run from.
And today, at Oscorp, destiny was literally dangling from the ceiling.
Manhattan, New York
LARA JEAN’S POV
The air inside the Oscorp Bio-Tech wing smelled aggressively of ozone and polished floor wax. Everything around her was too sterile for a Tuesday morning, and far too crowded for Lara Jean Covey’s peace of mind.
She adjusted the strap of her vintage leather tote bag that she had thrifted from her older sister’s closet, trying very hard not to get swallowed whole by the moving sea of teenagers. Their high school group visiting from Virginia had been merged with a local New York school tour due to an administrative "scheduling overlap," which practically translated to twice the noise and half the personal space. Honestly, Lara Jean wished she could have just stayed home and wallowed in the depths of her ever growing TBR pile, especially since, she had left her copy of The Fault In Our Stars book. Navigating a sea of noisy high schoolers without bringing her trust book to a trip was her own personal nightmare. She kept her favorite pastel polkadot pink scarf tucked tightly around her neck instead, holding her sketchbook close to her chest like a shield.
"If I have to hear one more guy talk about bio- whatever the -lleraction that was, I’m going to throw myself into one of these glass tanks," Chris complained, leaning over Lara Jean’s shoulder. She was tapping away on her phone, her combat boots clicking loudly against the pristine tile floor. "Why couldn't our field trip be somewhere normal, like a historical museum or literally anywhere else in Manhattan?"
"Come on, Chris, it’s not that bad," Lara Jean murmured, though she was mostly comforting herself. "The architecture is actually kind of pretty. Like have you seen how the whole building is ran through a natural source of energy, which is the sun? It’s pretty neat.”
"Yeah, yippee, super romantic," Chris deadpanned, rolling her eyes affectionately.
Up ahead, a tour guide wearing a crisp Oscorp lanyard raised a hand to gather the crowd. "Alright, students! Moving along to Section 1B. Please keep your hands off the bio-glass display cases. The arachnid species in this wing are subject to advanced genetic cross-splicing, so let’s leave the science to the professionals."
Directly above display tank number 42, there was a tiny glass habitat with a hairline fracture in the lid, a spider hovered. It glowed with a faint, iridescent violet hue, lowering itself inch by inch on a thread of silk that shimmered under the fluorescent lights. It wasn't targeting anyone in the room, no, it was targeting Lara Jean Covey.
Neither she nor Chris noticed it yet. Lara Jean was busy writing down a quick note about the information that the tour guide was telling them of the lab when a sudden commotion erupted in the Midtown Tech group right beside them.
"Watch it, Penis Parker!" a loud voice snickered.
A sudden shove sent a boy from Midtown Tech stumbling backward right into Lara Jean’s line of vision. His bulky SLR camera hit her arm, knocking her sketchbook straight out of her grip and sending her loose drawing pages fluttering across the polished floor.
"Oh! I'm— I 'm so sorry!" the boy stammered immediately, his cheeks flushing bright red as he scrambled to the ground to scoop up her stray sheets. He had messy brown hair, oversized glasses, and a Midtown Science hoodie that looked two sizes too big. "I didn't mean to— uh Flash just pushed me, and—"
‘who would name their kid flash?’ Lara Jean couldn’t help but thought of it before shaking her head.
"It's okay, really," She said quickly reassures the boy, bending down to help him. She offered a small, reassuring smile as she took back her sketchbook pages. "No harm done."
Peter Parker’s eyes widened for a fraction, initially stumped at the black eyed beauty right in front of him. For a split second, their hands brushed as the paper passed between them.
That was the exact fraction of a second the thread snapped.
The glowing spider dropped from the ceiling, completely mossed the back of Lara Jean’s hand by less than an inch, and landed silently on the collar of his hoodie. A tiny, static like shock rippled through the air, which showcased a subtle pulse that made the hair on Lara Jean’s arms stand up. The boy evidently winced, slapping the back of his neck with a quick ouch.
"Stray pin?" Lara Jean asked softly, noticing his sharp reaction.
"Yeah... must have been a loose thread or something on my collar," he mumbled, giving her a shy, polite nod. "I'm Peter, by the way. Peter Parker."
"Lara Jean," she replied.
"Parker! Get back in line!" a Midtown teacher barked from down the hall.
"Right! Sorry!" Peter called back, giving her one last awkward, apologetic wave before jogging off to catch up with his classmates.
Chris stepped up beside her, raising an eyebrow as she watched him run off. Lata Jean stood up once again, eyes trailing after the teen boy. "Who was that?"
"Just... Peter," Lara Jean said quietly.
Chris raised a brow, “Girl, you better be joking.” She said.
Lara Jean rolled her eyes, already knowing what she meant about that. She stood there for a moment, watching him disappear into the crowd. Down on the palm of her hand, right where their fingers had touched, a warm, tingling sensation lingered. It was as if there was a strange, invisible thread pulling gently toward the boy in the oversized hoodie.
Neither of them knew it yet, but the universe had just tripped over its own feet. Peter Parker was about to get horribly sick on a school bus, and Lara Jean's destiny had just been handed to the wrong person.