Chapter Text
Peter willed himself not to scratch the fading red mark on his wrist. He failed. It stung when he touched it, but the bite hadn't gone away. Aunt May had been freaked out. Uncle Ben told her that she was making too much fuss. The biggest shock had been when a Ace Chemicals representative showed up at their door with an offer to provide any medical care needed free of charge. His aunt and uncle thanked them for their kindness, but declined. Peter seemed fine. No fever, aches, pains, or anything that would cause concern.
Except that he had passed out once he had got home from the field trip. He had woken up to the sound of Aunt May coming through the front door three hours later. Peter took a quick shower before he came down and blamed it on a chain smoker at the lab. It didn't look like she thought twice about his story. She did see the bite on his wrist, which led to a fussing session. Uncle Ben had rescued him a few minutes later when he got home from work. Peter was able to use the distraction to get upstairs under the guise of doing his homework. He didn't want to tell them that his head was pounding and that the fly in the kitchen was driving him crazy. He fallen asleep at his desk, which wasn't out of character, but this time had been on purpose. It was the next day when the Ace Chemicals representative showed up.
"That was nice of them," Aunt May placed the sack lunch on the counter.
"They were watching their ass," Uncle Ben took a sip of coffee.
"Not in front of Peter," Aunt May snapped.
"I'm in high school," Peter laughed. "I've heard worse."
It was an hour before the bus would arrive, but having breakfast together was worth waking up early. Peter still wore his pajamas, snowflake pattern as they were a gift the previous Christmas, while his Aunt and Uncle were already dressed for work.
"Where are your glasses?" Aunt May sat at the table with a fresh cup of coffee. "Did you lose them?"
"No," Peter shook his head. "Don't worry, we won't have to replace them. I just forgot them in my room."
"And he made it down the stairs," Uncle Ben chuckled. "This is a banner day."
"I'll grab them now," Peter stuffed a piece of toast in his mouth.
"I'll be home late tonight," Aunt May called after him. "One of the girls is sick and we're splitting her shift."
Peter slipped into his room. The glasses blurred his vision and gave him a headache. He slipped off his pajama shirt. The reflection that stood in the corner of the room looked like him, but it had to be wrong. He had always been skinny. Academics were his strong suit. Science was his love and there wasn't much call for aerobics or weight training. The Peter Parker that stared back at him hadn't got that message. He had a four pack, the muscles in his chest were taut, and his arms were solidly defined rather than sticks.
"Peter," Uncle Ben called.
He jumped at the sound.
"Yeah?"
"We're leaving," Uncle Ben replied. "Love you. Let us know if that bite starts to look infected. We'll see you tonight."
"Okay," Peter called back as he flexed in the mirror. "A spider bite gave me abs?"
The knob to his closet felt weird. He looked down to see his shirt was stuck to his hand. Peter grabbed it and yanked it free. He tossed the shirt onto his bed. At least he tried. It caught on the tips of his fingers. He glared at the shirt. It dropped to the floor. Peter looked down at it and then back at his hand. He turned slowly back to the closet. His hand rested on the knob and he carefully pulled the door open. There was a brief moment where his skin stuck to the metal. It took a conscious effort to make it stop. Like blinking with an eye he didn't know he had.
He completed his morning routine as carefully as he could to avoid further issues. The laces on his shoes gave him the most trouble. Little tufts of thread continuously stuck to his fingers. Peter grabbed his backpack and hurried out the door just in time to see his bus pull away.
There was usually had enough time after getting ready to piggy-back on the WiFi from next door to check on the weather. Old Man Watson was grumpy on his best days, but he had been civil when he asked Peter to setup the network in his house. Aunt May said that he had been married once, had a daughter too, but they left around the time Peter arrived. He thought he could vaguely recall red hair.
He watched the bus disappear as it turned the corner. This wasn't the first time he had missed it, but he didn't have any money for the train. He tightened the straps on his backpack and started to jog along the sidewalk. The air came easy. His stride stretched. Soon he was bounding along the path faster than he had ever ran.
Something told him to move, an invisible hand guiding him, as simple as knowing where his nose was with his eyes closed. Peter leaped into the air over a car that tried to beat a yellow light. He landed in a crouch on the other side of the street. Peter stood slowly and turned around. The jump across two lanes of morning traffic had been easy. He blinked a couple of times as the realization truly took hold. The average car was six feet wide. A lane was roughly ten to allow for size variation. He had easily jumped twenty feet, not counting the shoulder, bike lane, or sidewalk. There was also the matter of height.
"Watch where you're going, kid," one of the drivers yelled.
Peter turned around without a word. His thoughts drifted as he walked. Everything weird that was happening could be traced back to that spider bite during the tour of Ace Chemicals. All he had to do to figure this out was to get back to the lab. Fifteen stories up, through a few locked doors, guards, and cameras.
The internet would be a good place to start.