Chapter Text
Peter Parker had been Spider-Man for long enough to know when something was wrong with his body.
He knew the difference between being tired and being exhausted.
He knew the difference between adrenaline and fear.
He knew the difference between his spider-sense warning him about an incoming punch and his stomach telling him he'd made a terrible decision about eating gas-station pizza.
This?
This was new.
Peter slept through it.
Which, in retrospect, was probably the first warning sign.
"Peter."
Nothing.
Ned leaned over his bed.
"Peter."
Still nothing.
Ned frowned.
"Peter."
MJ looked up from her phone.
"Maybe he's dead."
Ned's head snapped around.
"Michelle!"
"What? I'm not saying it's likely."
"Don't say things like that!"
MJ shrugged.
"Fine."
She looked back at Peter.
"He's probably not dead."
Peter was very much alive.
He was also completely cocooned in white webbing.
Ned stared.
MJ stared.
Peter slept peacefully.
The webbing covered most of his body, stretched from the headboard to the wall, and had somehow wrapped around one of Ned's posters.
Ned slowly stood.
"Did you do this?"
MJ gave him a look.
"Do I look like a spider?"
"I don't know. You're wearing black."
"That's racist."
"That's not—"
"Shh."
They both looked at Peter.
He hadn't moved.
Ned whispered, "When did he do that?"
"I don't know."
"I went to get snacks."
"Yes."
"He wasn't doing that before."
"I noticed."
Ned cautiously approached.
He poked the webbing.
It was warm.
He immediately pulled his hand back.
"Why is it warm?"
MJ stood.
"Peter."
Peter made a small noise.
"Mm."
"Peter, wake up."
"No."
Ned frowned.
"Peter, dude, you're stuck."
"I'm not stuck."
"You are literally wrapped in spider silk."
"It's comfortable."
MJ raised an eyebrow.
"How do you know?"
Peter mumbled something unintelligible.
Ned looked at MJ.
"Did you understand that?"
"No."
Peter shifted.
The webbing tightened.
His eyes opened.
For a moment, everything was normal.
Brown eyes.
Sleepy expression.
Messy hair.
Then his pupils disappeared.
Black spread across his eyes.
Ned froze.
MJ's phone slipped slightly in her hand.
Peter's head turned toward them.
"What are you doing?"
His voice was low.
Not angry.
Not exactly.
Just... wrong.
Ned swallowed.
"Nothing."
Peter's eyes darted toward him.
"You're touching it."
"What?"
"The web."
Peter suddenly ripped his arm free.
The sound made Ned jump.
"Okay!"
Peter tore through the rest of the webbing.
"Don't touch me."
Ned immediately backed up.
"Okay."
Peter sat on the edge of the bed.
His breathing was heavy.
He pressed his palms against his temples.
MJ noticed first.
"Peter."
"Don't."
"Okay."
Peter's eyes squeezed shut.
"It's too loud."
Ned looked around.
"What?"
"The room."
"It's quiet."
"No, it isn't."
Peter's head jerked toward the window.
A car drove past outside.
He flinched.
Then toward the hallway.
Someone walked down the stairs.
Peter covered his ears.
"Ned."
"I'm here."
"Make it stop."
MJ crouched several feet away from him.
"Peter, look at me."
He didn't.
"Peter."
His breathing hitched.
"Look at me."
Slowly, he did.
MJ kept her voice calm.
"It's just us."
Peter blinked.
"Ned's here."
Ned nodded.
"I'm here."
"And I'm here."
Peter swallowed.
"Okay."
"You're in Ned's room."
Peter looked around.
The posters.
The desk.
The piles of clothes.
The Lego set Ned had sworn he was going to finish three months ago.
Peter breathed in.
Then out.
The blackness slowly disappeared from his eyes.
His shoulders loosened.
Ned sat down beside him.
"Better?"
Peter nodded.
"A little."
"What happened?"
"I don't know."
Peter stared at his hands.
"I woke up and..."
He stopped.
MJ waited.
"I was wrapped in it."
Ned looked at the webbing scattered around his room.
"Yeah."
Peter frowned.
"I didn't make it."
Ned pointed.
"Peter."
"I mean, I didn't make it on purpose."
"That's somehow worse."
Peter groaned.
"Thanks, Ned."
"You're welcome."
MJ picked up a strand of webbing.
She examined it.
"It's different."
Peter looked at her.
"What?"
"Your webbing."
Peter's stomach dropped.
"My webbing?"
She held it up.
"It's not like the stuff from your shooters."
Peter stared.
She was right.
His mechanical web fluid was something he'd spent months perfecting.
He knew exactly how it behaved.
He knew its tensile strength.
He knew how long it lasted.
He knew how quickly it dissolved.
He knew the pressure required to fire it.
He'd been using his web shooters since he first became Spider-Man.
They were predictable.
Reliable.
Safe.
This wasn't.
Peter took the strand from her.
It stretched between his fingers.
He frowned.
"It's stronger."
Ned looked worried.
"Is that bad?"
"I don't know."
Peter pulled slightly.
The web didn't break.
He pulled harder.
Nothing.
"Okay."
He pulled harder.
Still nothing.
Peter stared.
"That's definitely stronger."
MJ folded her arms.
"How much stronger?"
"I don't know."
"Can you control it?"
Peter hesitated.
"I didn't know I was making it."
Ned went pale.
"Okay, that's bad."
Peter looked at him.
"Thank you, Ned. Very helpful."
"I'm serious!"
"I know."
Peter stood.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
He looked at the webbing.
Then his hands.
Then the window.
His spider-sense prickled.
Not danger.
Something else.
A strange sensation crawled beneath his skin.
Peter scratched his arm.
"Ow."
MJ noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Peter."
"It's fine."
She gave him a look.
Peter sighed.
"Everything feels... weird."
Ned frowned.
"Weird how?"
"Like I can feel everything."
"You already have enhanced senses."
"Not like this."
Peter walked toward the window.
He could hear the traffic below.
Every car.
Every horn.
Every person talking.
A dog barking.
Someone opening a door three buildings away.
He could smell rain.
Food.
Gasoline.
Dust.
Perfume.
It was all layered together.
Too much.
Peter shut the window.
"Okay."
He took a breath.
"I'm fine."
MJ crossed her arms.
"You keep saying that."
"Because I am."
"Peter."
"I'm fine."
"You're making webbing while you're asleep."
Peter opened his mouth.
Closed it.
"Okay."
"Your eyes turned black."
"I noticed."
"You almost yelled at Ned."
"I said I noticed."
"And you're hearing things from three blocks away."
Peter rubbed his face.
"Yeah."
Ned looked at him.
"Maybe you should tell the Avengers."
Peter's head snapped up.
"No."
"Peter."
"No."
"They could help."
"I can't tell them."
"Why?"
Peter stared at him.
"Because then they'd know."
MJ understood immediately.
"About Spider-Man."
Peter nodded.
Ned sighed.
"Right."
Peter sat back down.
He looked exhausted.
"I don't know what's happening to me."
MJ sat beside him.
"Then figure it out."
Peter looked at her.
"That's your advice?"
"Yes."
"Very motivational."
"I try."
Ned sat on the floor.
"Could be temporary."
Peter gave him a skeptical look.
"That's not comforting."
"It wasn't supposed to be."
Peter laughed quietly.
For a moment, things felt normal.
Then another strand of webbing appeared between Peter's fingers.
None of them saw where it came from.
Peter did.
His eyes widened.
"Oh."
MJ leaned closer.
"What?"
Peter stared at the strand.
"It happened again."
Ned stood.
"Okay. That's creepy."
Peter pulled.
The strand stretched.
He pulled harder.
It snapped.
Peter stared at it.
"Okay."
MJ tilted her head.
"So you can control it."
"Apparently."
"Good."
Peter looked at the broken strand.
"Eventually."
By the time Peter left Ned's apartment, the sun was coming up.
He pulled his backpack over his shoulder.
His normal web shooters were inside.
He'd checked them twice.
Everything was there.
The new webbing wasn't.
He wasn't sure he wanted it to be.
MJ walked him to the door.
"You'll tell me if it gets worse?"
Peter nodded.
"Yeah."
"Promise."
"Promise."
She kissed his cheek.
Peter smiled.
"I'll see you later."
"Try not to get yourself killed."
Peter grinned.
"No promises."
MJ rolled her eyes.
Ned appeared behind her.
"Hey, Pete?"
"Yeah?"
"If you turn into an actual spider, I'm moving."
Peter laughed.
"Noted."
He walked down the hallway.
Then stopped.
His spider-sense tingled.
Peter looked back.
MJ was still watching him.
Ned was still standing behind her.
For the first time since May's death, Peter felt something other than grief.
Fear.
Not fear of losing someone.
Fear of losing himself.
He tightened his grip on his backpack.
Then kept walking.
Because Peter Parker had never been particularly good at stopping.
And apparently, neither was whatever was happening to him.
End of Chapter One