Chapter Text
As hard as the cool midnight breeze tried, it could never lull New York City into slumber. The moon already took its place in the starry night sky hours ago, yet bright lights refuse to let darkness take hold. Corner stores and bodegas continued to provide refuge for both young and old. Sirens wailed at random intervals, peace never allowed to truly settle. For New Yorkers, this was the picturesque example of the perfect town.
This also meant that sometimes, Spider-man really considered filing a strongly worded complaint about his business hours to the Department of Labor.
“Really Spider-man, I’m not lying when I tell you that we can handle some of the crime in the city without your help.” said an exasperated Detective DeWolff on the phone.
“And I’m not hearing a thank you.” replied NYC’s favorite spider-themed hero as he swung between buildings on his way back to his apartment, though the weariness in his voice was not lost on the detective.
“You were involved in 17 separate crime scenes in the past 12 hours. That’s not even counting this early morning criminal gathering that you just stopped. You took a 50 caliber bullet, Spider-man, the city can afford to let you rest.”
“Hey, first of all, the bullet was 3 months ago and Frank said he was sorry. Second, I think I was pretty crucial to stopping that masked goon jamboree. They landed a few hits but I followed the doctor’s orders of favoring my good side.”
The detective sighed. “Whatever you say Spider-man. Just, please rest up for the night. Let us be useful for a change.”
“Yes Ma’am. Not doing any more of your work for you tonight.”
Peter ended the call just as he started to see his apartment in the distance. It had been a pretty calm 3 months for the webhead all things considered. After the DODC fiasco involving a certain red-haired telepath, he spent the time resting and recuperating, taking things generally slow.
Of course, the only reason he did so was because the people around him wouldn’t let him. When he tried to put on the suit, he’d receive a suspiciously well timed message from Yelena talking about the best ways to torture a man who wasn’t following orders. Sometimes, if he made it outside, his spidey-senses would clue him in to a random direction across the downtown rooftops where he just KNEW that Frank would be looking at him sporting the most disappointed dad face through his binoculars. Lastly was his new psychic roommate who took his recovery a bit personal sometimes. Speaking of which, how was he supposed to get back inside without alerting Jean Grey?
Thus Peter devised a patent pending, genius Sneak Back Inside without waking the roommate plan. It was simple.
Step 1: Gently and quietly open the window.
Step 2: Use his incredible spider agility to slip inside undetected.
Step 3: Change into a secret set of clothes he keeps under his computer and go to bed on the couch, erasing all evidence that he was out way past his “curfew”.
It all went wrong somewhere between steps 1 and 2. In the dark, his spidey-sense suddenly went haywire. By then, he knew it was all too late.
“Peter Benjamin Parker”
Uh oh. Curse his Parker Luck.
Peter raised his eyes to meet Jean’s. After the DODC debacle, they both decided that it would probably be best for her to lay low, and where better to stay safe and sound than Spider-man’s apartment?
In that time, they’d developed a system. Whoever wasn’t occupied would cover for the other. Jean prepares breakfast for the both of them as Peter sleeps in. He would wash the dishes and clean the home as she went about her day. She’d wait for him to come home at night after his patrols and keep him in line if he was pushing himself too hard. They’d hang around on the couch and talk to each other about anything and everything as they were winding down for bed. Eventually, she would retreat to the bedroom and he would sleep on the couch. He’d never agree to let her sleep on the couch and he doesn’t think that his bed is big enough to fit both of them, no matter how weirdly adamant she was that it could.
It was circadian. A two-person household dance that came as naturally as the mundane. One of the few constants in his life that Peter had started to grow accustomed to. Something to look forward to every day.
Except for right now. I’d rather face down a man with six robotic limbs, or maybe a weapons trafficker that has mechanical wings, or that rich dude in a suit, or what about that self-proclaimed master of electricity, or—
“It’s 2:17 am.” Jean’s arms were crossed and her face scrunched up in a way that would’ve been cute if he wasn’t fearing for his life.
“Jean!” A nervous chuckle slipped from his mouth before he could stop it. He needed an out and fast. “I thought you’d already—”
“2:17 am.”
I am so dead.
He hastily pulled off the mask. “There was just so much to do today you know. Problems non-stop after another. You would think that eventually these guys would get bored of getting caught by m—”
“2—”
Nevermind, I’m worse than dead.
“Umm, I’m sorry uh, look I didn’t even get hit once!”
“18 now. A. M.”
“Ok. Maybe I did get hit but it wasn't that bad. It was during this last one where they were using some kind of glitter bomb or something. Honestly, I don’t even think they were trying to hurt me. It didn’t even graze m—”
Red hair filled his vision before he could finish his sentence.
“Do you know how worried I was about you?” Jean started, her voice muffled against his chest. “You’ve never come home this late before.”
Peter froze. Great. Now he made her feel bad. He slowly wrapped his arms around her as well, reminding her that he was here.
“I know, I’m sorry. I got carried away.”
Jean pulls away. “You’re taking the bed tonight. You need to rest. There is no room for negotiation.” She tried in the sternest voice she could muster.
Absent-mindedly, Peter started stroking her hair.
“That’s not our arrangement, remember? You take the bed, I sleep on the couch. Aunt May would never let me hear the end of it if I made a girl sleep on the sofa.”
“No arguments.”
“But I—”
“No buts.” She leaned into his hand in an endearingly catlike manner. “Eat, freshen up, go to bed. That’s an order”
In one last act of defiance, Peter tried to say, “What are you, my mom?”
“Worse, your Jean.” She fully disentangled herself as she said that, retreating to the couch with a slightly red-tinged face before he could comprehend what she just said.
Wonder what she meant by that. Peter dismissed the statement as just one of her Jean-isms.
With that, the rest of the night passed by in a blur. On autopilot, he changed out of the Spider-man costume, took a quick shower, and ate a very late dinner. In no time at all, Peter found himself laying on his bed waiting for sleep to claim him. He stared at the door.
I wonder if she wonders about me beyond this door before falling asleep too.
Peter shot up awake in his bed to his apartment filled with light.
“Wow, I must have been more tired than I thought.”
The clock read 10:42 am. Jean would already be out at this time.
Bummer. Whatever breakfast she made would already be cold on the counter.
Sluggishly, he walked out the bedroom waiting to be greeted by the smell of a new day’s promise, which somehow never came. Well, his nose did get stuffy sometimes after waking up. A hanging dishtowel near the sink swayed along with the breeze. Jean must have cracked open a window earlier this morning.
He sat next to the dining table, a plate of stale eggs and room temperature coffee awaited him. The breakfast of champions. However, right as he was about to pick up a fork, the sounds of a police chase from outside grabbed his attention.
“Really, first thing when I wake up? Evie, could you check out the situation for me?”
Silence.
“Evie? Hello?” Looking at his computer, everything seemed to be in working order. A low light blue light signified Evie’s presence, yet she did not answer.
That’s weird. Everything was working fine yesterday. Guess I'm flying solo for this one.
Peter got up and started to reach for his suit, only to realize that he already had it on. Strike 2 on the weirdness pitcher. Didn’t I change before going to sleep last night?
A distant explosion shook him out of his thoughts. Guess there’s no time to think about it. I need to follow that crime ASAP.
In a flash, Spider-man was swinging across the New York skyline towards the scene of the crime. The sensation of the wind pushing against him, strangely absent? Before he could dwell on it though, he rounded a corner and was faced with an overturned van and four armed gunmen pressing guns against hostages. He landed a small distance away to attempt to talk them down.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do now, put the guns down.” Tried the spider-negotiator.
Great opening line, Spidey.
Seemingly uninterested, one of the gunmen shouted. “WE WON’T DO ANYTHING UNTIL YOU COPS PUT YOUR GUNS DOWN”
“And that is exactly why we’re stuck here. If you just gi—”
“AND WE WANT FULL EXONERATION FROM OUR CRIMES!” Chimed another.
Ok rude. Nothing I can’t handle.
“The longer you gu—”
“AND DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT CALLING SPIDER-MAN HERE”
What. What is he talking about? I’m right here.
Eventually, one of the cops behind him went to DeWolff. “Ma’am, the situation looks no closer to resolving. In fact, it just seems to get worse every second.”
“We wait for Spider-man.” Replied DeWolff.
Oh yeah. She meant like, wait for me to make my move right? Ok, guess I better start webbing them up.
Just before he could, however, four gunshots rang in quick succession. The Punisher had arrived and decided to take matters into his own hands. The four gunmen dropped dead in an instant.
“FRANK, WHAT THE HELL MAN!” Peter all but screamed in his face. “I thought we talked about this? No lethal force unless absolutely necessary. The police are right there! I will not hesitate to turn y—.”
Frank abruptly turned away from him to look at a fuming DeWolff.
“Ok great. Is it international ignore Spider-man day? Sorry guys, didn't get the memo. Very funny. Now talk to me please.” Peter pleads as he stands off to the side of DeWolff and Frank.
DeWolff stared down the Punisher with a less than amused expression on her face.
“I don’t remember asking you to intervene.”
Frank barely looked at her.
“Didn’t need your permission.”
“You’re not a cop. I could get you arrested.”
“No. I’m not.” Frank slowly turned to face the newly-freed hostages who were being tended to by paramedics.
“But I bet if we wasted any more time waiting around there wouldn’t be anymore hostages to bring back to their families.”
“And now, you’ve got bodies on the floor and a crime scene with your name on it.”
“They’re not gonna be taking anyone hostage again anytime soon.”
“And that makes what you did right?”
“No. I didn’t do it because it was the right thing to do. I did it because I had to.” An uneasy feeling settled in Peter’s stomach.
Frank started to walk away.
“I’m not purposefully intervening in any of your police cases, detective. It only happens because they started turning into mine.”
With that, DeWolff decided that there were things more worth her time. She turned around and walked away, phone in hand, already contacting Spider-man.
“Where is Spider-man? Normally he would be here already.”
Peter whipped into action upon hearing his alias. He stepped in front of her waving his arms. “Hey, good prank detective, I’m actually right here see.”
Detective DeWolff did not stop. She did not slow down nor did she acknowledge him. Instead, the moment Peter braced for the collision, her hand passed right through him. Followed by the front of her torso, the tip of her feet, the rest of her arm, the rest of her leg until her entire body phased right through him.
Peter was stunned. Dumbfounded. The taste of vomit rose to his mouth. No one was pranking him. No one was pulling his leg. No one could see him. No one could even touch him.
He panicked. He desperately screamed at the people around him. He swung from rooftop to rooftop.
No. No. No. No. No. What’s happening?
He moved. As fast as he can. He didn't know where he’s going. All he knew was he had to get away. The mask and suit suddenly felt claustrophobic. His senses went haywire. He saw everything yet nothing at the same time. His eyes failed to focus on anything meaningful.
Apartment. Home. Jean. I need to get home.
He swung back into his apartment, through the same window Jean kept open for him. He tried to grab the plate of eggs but they wouldn't move. He can touch them but they don’t respond. He tries to knock the coffee mug down onto the floor but nothing happens. Desperately he tries to destroy his equipment. To affect something in the world. The couch. The door to his apartment. Yet they all ignore him the same. That's when he decided to walk back into the bedroom.
Ok Peter, think about this rationally. Maybe it's just a bad dream? Maybe I just need to lie down. Yeah. Yeah that makes sense. I’ll go to sleep in the nightmare to wake up in the real world. That’s how it works right?
He walked to the foot of the bed and froze in horror. On his bed waiting for him was the body of Peter Parker.
Peter Parker was dead.
He slowly stumbled back and fell clumsily to his feet. Hastily he pulled his mask off and crawled back out of the bedroom.
Why is there a body on my bed? Why is my body on my bed? No this can’t be happening, this can’t be real. I can’t be de—
The apartment door swung open. Jean Grey walked inside carrying a new book she just got from a store down the street. An air of subdued excitement and joy clashed with the despair he felt from the inside. She didn’t know it yet, but she uttered the most important words of Peter’s life.
“What’s wrong, Peter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”