"-uck?!" Peter Parker's eyes grew about five sizes when he heard his aunt May's shrill, stunned exclamation. Quickly spinning on his heel, their eyes met, countenances matching almost exactly. Except, his was made up of a more 'I screwed up' face. May's glasses had slid almost completely off of her nose, barely hanging on the tip of it as she stared her nephew down, arms crossed and waiting.
"I can explain," his words rushed out as her face grew even redder in anger. He swore her nostrils flared.
"Yes," he had to give her props. That 'yes' sounded very calm and collected but, unfortunately for the young teen, the rest of what she said didn't. "Please explain why you are walking around in - in -" she waved her arm vaguely in his direction, "like that."
"It's - It's just a costume."
"Costume?! It's not even close to halloween!" she shouted, voice strained, "Peter, tell me you're not - tell me you-" With each word, she took steps closer to him, physically having to hold herself back from shaking him...or slapping the back of his head. Her fingers twitched. Yeah, that second option is probably more likely.
"God, May, h-haven't you ever heard of cosplayers?" similar to his aunt's, Peter's voice had taken on a higher pitch: one his sort of friend, MJ, would call his defensive voice.
"Oh my," she started pacing, her hands taking residence on her temples, "Oh my God, is this one of those weird sexual fetishes? Be-Because that's okay, Peter, your body is going through a lot of changes right now and-"
"No, No, No, No!" Peter waved his arms in the air like a lunatic trying to halt her pubescent rant on body positivity and sexuality as his words passed through his progressively tightening throat.
"Then what is it? I'm trying here, Peter, to understand. What-"
"Stark gave it to me," his head snapped up in an attempt to exude confidence. May twitched an eyebrow.
"Stark? This isn't helping your case. I thought you said he let you go?"
"He, uh, sent this as an apology. Spiderman is my favorite so…"
"So he sent you this costume," she finished, her tone dry as the Arizona heat, eyebrows still pointed up towards her hairline.
"Yeah," he grabbed the brown bag off of his bed, folding it so 'Stark' was the only thing showing and displayed it to his aunt, "See." His laugh was nervous as he watched her eyes flick suspiciously over it. "If I was actually Spiderman, I wouldn't need Tony Stark to make me a suit."
Aunt May pursed her lips, eyes flickering back and forth beneath her glasses. She handed the bag back, "Fine," she spoke slowly, deliberately, "I expect to see you wearing it for next Halloween. Looks expensive. Now, get dressed. I ordered out. Dinner's on its way."
He watched as she shakily walked out of the room. Peter knew she didn't believe him and he knew he would hear more on the subject later but May couldn't know. And, maybe he was worried she would prohibit him from being even a Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman and maybe he was worried she would get hurt. Call him selfish. He knew what happened when civilians got too close to powered people.
If anything happened to May because of him, he'd die.
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"Hey, Peter. Um, where are you? I've been standing outside of the library for an hour," the voicemail that his lab partner / kind of friend, Michelle left for him almost four hours ago rang out through Karen's speakers inside his suit. Silently cursing himself and the never ending crime (minor muggings, the occasional stolen wallet, and, he'll admit, lost people in need of directions) littering the streets of Queens, Peter prayed that Michelle's bored tone was actually bored and not her masking her annoyance. She was painfully good at that. As he gracefully swung between buildings on patrol, feeling each whoosh of the wind through the breathable fabric that made up his suit, the voicemails on his list played through, each gradually gaining a more angry undertone.
"Dude, seriously. This project is going to take forever to put together if you don't get your ass over here in the next couple of minutes. Where even are you?"
"Look, I've got a ten PM curfew. You comin' or not?"
"Okay. So, maybe I don't really have a curfew but Charlie's gotta eat and our parents are out late tonight."
"You know what, Parker? Fuck you." That last one almost made him lose his grip on the webbing that supported him.
Patrolling as an Avenger gave Spiderman more of a rush than patrolling as a Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman did; which is probably why Peter's selective hearing kicked in everytime Tony Stark gave one of his you're - just - a - kid - and - this - is - too - dangerous - for - you lectures. After all, Mr. Stark was just kidding. Of course Peter was an Avenger. He stole Captain America's shield and helped bring him and all of the Accord vigilantes to justice. Or, at least, that was what Mr. Stark told him they were doing while convincing him to leave his homework behind to go to Germany.
He even got the ignoring - your - worried - peers - when - they - call - about - important - science - projects thing down pat. He felt bad and he knew he was in for an earful from the typically quiet bookworm when he got to school the next day. He continued to swing, keeping a more vigilant eye on the dark alleyways in the borough's trouble spots.
Ever since the unfortunate incident of having to send his sort of girlfriend's father to prison, the streets of Queens had been pretty quiet, save for a few small crimes here and there. But, at least, nobody was carrying any devastatingly damaging alien weapons around. It seemed as though Damage Control was doing a much better job this time around at keeping that sort of stuff out of the public's eyes and better yet, hands.
New York was known for being the city that never sleeps, but because of a few things that may have involved a certain group of heros called the Avengers, more and more people were opting to stay inside at night. Taking a turn past some of the more run-down and abandoned buildings, Peter did not expect to hear as many crashing noises as he did. One of which was followed by a loud booming voice, "You idiot! You drop that one again and I swear I'll -" whatever the man was about to say got caught off with another piercing bang. And, it was a noise Peter knew all too well. A gunshot. He swung to circle back to where it came from and, without thinking twice, burst through the window of the basement.
"Hey guys. What's up?" he asked as casually as he could, while picking glass off his suit. Awkwardly propping himself up on the nearest wall, he glanced around the room and found, surprisingly, that no one was injured or bleeding out from a gunshot wound. Instead, he found a bullet hole in the wall and what had to be over a million dollars in cash stacked up against that same wall. The air was permeated with the smell of copper. Also, there were about nine men poised and ready for an attack; the biggest and bulkiest one, clearly their leader forced out a chuckle, making him sound like that one distant cousin that everyone mutually dislikes yet is still forced into attending reunions.
"Whoa. Where did you get all that money? Are you like the next Tony Stark? Man, that's so cool!" Peter enthused as he quickly started to web them up. Dodging fists came naturally as he got most of the group tied down, until he was, quite literally smacked out of the air by the man who had to have been ten times his size.
"The spiderboy! I've been so looking forward to you bustin' me one of these days," his voice was tinged with sarcasm as he brought down the wooden plank he had been using as a weapon. At the last second, Peter caught the other end before it could connect with his face and used the momentum to toss the weapon clear across the room, right after it left the side of the other man's face bruised and bloody.
Peter flipped himself back to his feet, "It's Spiderman." Eyes widening, he took in the wooden plank he had flung, realizing that it had knocked the ash tray containing still lit cigarettes into the piles of money stacked against the wall. "Uh oh." The sparks quickly transforming into flames as they licked every last bill within reach, the smoke billowing up to the ceiling.
"Fisk!" one of the voices called out.
The man, who Peter decided resembled a bulkier, angrier Fred Flintstone, let out a roar. He could see his internal struggle of whether to pounce on Spiderman or save what money had not been touched by the fire yet. Peter used his hesitation to jump back out the window and run, heart pounding.
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You could imagine Peter's - sorry - Spiderman's surprise when he came
face to face with the enigma that was his lab partner and Academic Decathlon leader, Michelle. The suited figure swung, with ease, through his bedroom window to find a disinterested but comfortable curly-haired teenager sitting up in his bed with her nose buried in a book. Eyes widening as he took her unexpected presence in, he slowly started to back up. His heart was still racing from the fire he had caused and his suit smelled like barbecue but maybe she didn't notice him come in. His gloved hand reached back towards the window and abruptly halted at the sound of her bored voice.
"A little late there, Parker. This project isn't gonna do itself." She hadn't even glanced up. If Peter didn't know any better, he'd swear she had her own Spidey sense.
Raising his eyebrows under his mask, he took his hand off the window and angled his pointer finger to his chest as if to say, 'me?'
Eyes still on her book, she turned the page carefully, "You gonna sit down? Or are you just gonna stare at me all night?"
Clearing his throat, he purposefully made his voice deeper, "Ma'am, I am here on official Stark Internship business. Where is Peter?"
At that, the brown-eyed girl lazily shifted her gaze up to look at him, "Cut the bullshit, Peter. I know it's you."
"Ma'am, I-"
"Honestly, it wasn't that hard to figure out. I'm surprised more people didn't notice it before, then again not everyone has an IQ of 140."
Shaking his head, he dropped the fake accent, "But, how did you-"
"May let me in," she explained how she ended up in his room, subtly avoiding the Peter's actual question. "After she told me that Stark got you a new Halloween costume, Spiderman."
"So, you-you know that I-uh that I-," his personality shifted away from the confident hero and back to the confused nerdy kid who still played with legos.
Sitting up slightly more, Michelle slid her bookmark into place and began to count off her fingers, "You have an internship with a billionaire who has genetically enhanced superheroes as friends, you are always running off, you were in DC the same day the decathlon team was there while 'Peter' was nowhere to be found, and Ned said you 'know Spiderman.' Also, I saw your suit hanging out of your backpack a few times."
"You're also a huge flake." At his silence, she amended, "I'm not obsessed with you; just very observant. And, you and Ned aren't exactly quiet."
Peter slowly slipped his mask off, bowing his head down and nervously running his hand over his mess of curls. "MJ..." He sighed, "I-"
"You should have told me." She fisted her hands in his comforter, the only outward sign that she was angry, "I mean, not that I care or anything." She reached into her leather coat pocket, which was laying right next to her. "It's just - you left this at homecoming," unfolding the object in her hands, he realized that it was his tie. "You should look after it more carefully, Parker."
The double entendre in those words: the tie and his secret identity, made Peter's blood run cold. "You're not gonna tell anybody, are you?" he stuttered through.
She scoffed and if Peter didn't know any better, he'd think she was offended, "Please. I've known about this for months. If I was gonna tell, I would have a long time ago." She stood, grabbing her bookbag and her jacket, hastily making her way towards the door of his bedroom.
"Wait. But-But what about our project?"
"I finished it." The door slammed shut.
The teenage boy couldn't help but freeze then, remembering that May was still out, he pulled himself together and quickly slipped out the door after his friend. "MJ," he stopped her in the kitchen as she grabbed the front doorknob. Carefully pushing the door closed, arm stretched to its breaking point to reach over her tall figure, Peter realized how close he was to her. He stepped back, trying to shake the scent of lavender.
She chuckled, shaking off the seriousness of the situation, "Is this where you apologize to me and swear your undying, unrequited love for me?"
"Wh-? Love?" he stuttered.
"Jeez. You don't need to have an aneurism, Parker. I was just kidding, you idiot."
From the amount of time he had known her, he knew that calling him names was a defense mechanism. She did it when she was caught off guard or, dare he say, embarrassed. That is: embarrassed for him. Michelle didn't get embarrassed. She didn't care enough to be. And, she was that way for as long as he could remember. Even during sex ed in middle school, when the teacher was explaining the beauty of the female uterus and its ability to menstruate and reproduce, Michelle felt the need to speak her mind. 'I don't know. Our uteruses are probably a part of the patriarchy and they're there to punish us for not adhering to the societal standard that women need to constantly produce children once we reach a certain age.'
"You smell like smoke," she stated snapping him out of the memory.
"Yeah. There was an incident," he scratched the back of his neck, praying to a higher power that that fire hadn't killed anyone even if they were criminals and probably deserved it. Peter was no murderer.
MJ raised an eyebrow as if she had wanted to ask more about it but didn't consider the questions she had to be a worthy outlet of her time. Instead, she grabbed her bag off the floor and started marching back towards Peter's bedroom. "Where are you going?" he called after her.
"We need to start this project."
He furrowed his eyebrows as he hustled after her, "I thought you said you finished it."
Falling back down onto his twin mattress, she answered, "Yeah. And you told May you weren't Spiderman. You really thought I was going to do all the work for you, Parker?" She glanced back up at him as she unpacked her textbook, "Just because you're a big shot superhero doesn't mean you get to skip out on your chemistry homework and leave us little guys out in the dust. Sit."
That was the thing about Michelle: she never asks, she states, commands, orders you to do things and Peter wasn't about to find out what she would do if he didn't listen to her. So, he sat...on the floor...in the spot he was just standing in. She smirked and quirked an eyebrow but once again kept her lips sealed.
She opted to go with, "You may want to change out of that suit. You're a little singed. I'm surprised you still have eyebrows." He slowly stood from his spot on the floor and made his way into his bathroom to change as Michelle began noisily flipping through the pages of their science textbook. She turned the cheap thin papers so aggressively that Peter wondered how none of them tore. He decided he would tread lightly around the lithe girl that was seated innocently criss-cross in the middle of his bedroom floor.
He quickly changed his clothes and re-entered his room, "Are you ready to hypothesize which metals corrode the fastest?"
"Forget that. Why don't we make our own version of Spiderman's webs?," she rubbed her hands together. In Peter's head, all she was missing was a handlebar mustache that she could twirl. She was evil. "What materials have the greatest tensile strength...say a couple thousand Newtons worth? How much tension is required to swing from buildings?"
"You're not funny, Michelle."
"No, but seriously. What's that stuff made out of? And can I borrow some?"
"It's a long chain polymer nylon and no, you can't borrow some of it."