Notes: This is my re-imagining of the JMS run from the early 2000s minus the story arcs that dragged it down for a lot of old school fans. Doesn't follow it beat for beat but you won't find anything having to do with Civil War, Sins Past, and One More Day because this is Peter B Parker and his path is a little bit more interesting than 616 Peter.

I started writing this back in March and have several chapters in the can ready to go but was recently called back to work so we'll see where this goes!

Thanks to my editor, loneliest taco. Will try to roll out more chapters in the coming weeks.

Hope you enjoy.

—-

Stretching from here to infinity was nothing, warm and dark as the womb. In this place alone The Hunter was able to know a comfort like none he would find elsewhere. Had he ever been offered the choice, he would stay in this blissful state of swaddled unbeing for all eternity and never know the pains and pleasures that existence could inflict, because many had been.

He had not been given that choice.

Having lived a very, very long time somehow he knew. Even as he floated in a state that was not quite sleeping, where it was impossible to know that it was even possible to know, he knew that it was almost time to awaken.

Yes now it came. The beautiful void, resplendent in its lack of anything to be resplendent in, was being sullied. Cracks started appearing at the corners of this non-place, shards of red stabbing in to strike the center and shatter the peace. The first pang was the worst of all, bringing pain where there had been only ecstasy, but every one brought him closer to a desolate climax.

The Hunger had arrived.

It was time to wake up.

—

It felt their essences skitter through the web of life, vital and strong. Some experienced, some young, but none were weak. Did it not have the right to finally exist again? Happenings like this did not occur, never before had he been given a menu to select from. There it was again: A silent flare in the blackness, a spark. All at once it exploded, rocketing away despair, sadness, regret. All replaced by... Hope. Delicious. All at once The Hunter was assaulted by its familiar hunger, driven to climb from the soft, black depths in which it rested and into the searing light. Compelled by the gnawing in something that was not quite a stomach to chase the spark, to feast on it. Devour those feelings and the essence which radiated them. The culmination of everything it was and everything it could be. Wrapped in totemic energies, it needed to feed on it.

It needed to feed on him.

—

Okay, people I have some things to get off my chest and I don't wanna bother my wife right now so you... Are... Up...

My name is Peter B Parker. You know me, and crazily enough people in entirely different dimensions do too. As it turns out, I am not the one and only Spider-Man. I've been doing this gig for 23 years? 24? It can get hard to keep a timeline straight now and then. I ended up getting dragged through the multiverse while I was dealing with some… Personal things.

I met this great kid named Miles and I watched him become the new Spider-Man in his own dimension. Seeing that, knowing that I'd just helped the next generation slip a little bit easier into the future? It made me proud, and it made me realize I'd been neglecting some important stuff back in my home dimension. When I got back I reconciled with Mary Jane. I apologized, I told her how I'd been a selfish jerk and that my life just wasn't the same without her in it. And do you know what she had the nerve to do to your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man? She forgave me! I know, right?! I said there was nothing I wanted more than to work things out, start a family, and I meant it. She was onboard, but we had to take things slow. I get it.

What else? Well, I finally changed jobs. I went from full time low tier schlub at a chemical engineering company to getting certified to teach and becoming a college professor. Wild as it may sound, I also find time to be your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man when I'm not mixed up in all that. I think you're up to speed now, we'll start here.

—

He adjusted his reading glasses.

"So to go over some things before this exam I'd like you all to direct your attention to this relic over here which isn't me." Peter B Parker flicked on the ancient overhead projector he remembered in his days of being a grade school student and slid a plastic slide with some key notes written neatly in red. It reflected onto the whiteboard behind him.

"Just to remind everyone while we're on the subject, chemical engineering is ALL about creating processes and constantly improving them. Making them more efficient, less expensive..." he counted on his fingers, "faster, better, stronger, and sometimes even EASIER to get to your result. They are all these nice things that go in between raw materials and your final product. Whether that final product is an ice cream flavor, an overpriced perfume or piece of jewelry sold to stay at home moms and old ladies on QVC, or an over the counter pharmaceutical or vaccine, there are numerous possibilities to get to the final product. What matters here is the journey, not the destination."

A loud snore added emphasis to the professor's last sentence followed by some giggles around the room. Peter leaned forward and folded his hands over the projector waiting for a remark but when none came and the snoring continued he rested his chin in his palm "Wait. Is he really sleeping?"

More snickering around the room and one of the students volunteered to throw a crumpled notebook page at the sleepy offender before the professor could stop him which scared the kid awake.

"Greetings to anyone who is just tuning in. I know spring break begins tomorrow, and that makes it very, very difficult to be here this morning. I understand. Believe me when I say that I empathize..." Peter tapped the notes on the projector but not impatiently.

"Unless you're a morning person," Someone chimed in from the back row.

"No one is really a morning person, Carly, and anyone who claims otherwise is lying to themselves and the world at large." Peter gently clapped his hands together, "Now, if anyone would like to get back to the notes, there's about 40 minutes left between you and a week of sleeping in."

"I hear superheroes are engineers and chemists. Only reason why I'm here." Sleepy kid had spoken.

"Very true, in fact your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man could be trying to give you important notes before your final test right now. How did you know?" No laughter. Tough crowd.

"I don't think Spider-Man would be your age or body type."

Ouch. He had spent a good two months losing his stomach before attempting to talk to MJ again thank you very much.

"You know I think someone needs a coffee and it is really not nice to call your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man overweight. I prefer well-fed and looked after. I promise you once you hit 30 the fear of finding a gray hair doesn't matter anymore and you'll start telling yourself age is just a number. And then after that you'll be pushing the goal post further out to 'you're only as old as you feel.' to 'it's already a good day if I wake up.' One more minute on the notes." Peter was gifting the answers to the test to anyone who was paying attention.

His hand fidgeted with his pen cap tapping gently on the papers he was reading through to grade. His class was half empty by now. A student only made noise to slide the chair out from under them and shuffle their paper to the pile on his desk and in the same manner shuffle out the door. Sometimes he'd even get a "catch ya later Mr. Parker."

"Enjoy the break." he'd say looking up from his reading glasses and would pepper in some "haaaave a good one" variations so he wasn't bidding his students the same goodbye. It was a strange and cheesy habit and you always fell into these sort of things after being around younger people after a while. He liked to think it was something he'd developed back when he was 18 taunting his opponents as Spider-Man. Always having to have the last word. Not feeding the same gimmicky line or monologue in his youthful career as a teen superhero. He'd go out of his way to never tell the same joke twice to show that he cared. Not that the guy trying to bash his face in minded. Or maybe they did. It just gets tiring to hear the same spiel or schtick over and over again. Ock and Osborn were like that at the end of their careers. Just going off on tangents and grand monologues that he was able to recite along with them. Like that one final time..

—-

"You'll never win this one, you stupid bug. No matter how much you fight me, no matter how far you take it. Our fates are intimately entwined and—"

"Otto, I never knew you felt that way. I'm flattered but I want you to know that I'm not a cheap date." Spider-Man had sat perched interrupting Doctor Otto Octavius with that response one day a little more than a few years ago. The rounder man looked at him, eyes narrowing further, mouth twisting into a snarl as he took a deep breath in preparation for his next threat but Spider-Man cut him off.

"Look at me, Otto, this is serious time. Things are getting embarrassing, how many years have we known each other now? You write your own stuff, don't you? 'Our fates are intimately entwined'? Are you threatening me or proposing to me? 'Curse you, Spider-Man! Blah blah blah!' Don't you ever get tired of this, Doc? Aren't you getting bored?" The wallcrawler eased up, not wanting to be too mean here. After all, it was serious time.

"Silence! I'll not be spoken to like this by some foul-mouthed brat!"

"Brat? Otto, come on man, I'm in my mid 30s and that's basically 40. I've been at this for two decades. I'm tired. I'm cranky. I just had a huge argument with the woman of my dreams and at this point I just want to go... To... Bed." Peter was in rare form that night. "Every time I see you it's just the same thing over and over again. Five-dollar words and death-threats. I slept wrong, Dunkin didn't get my coffee right because for minimum wage why would some kid with a septum piercing care and now I'm dealing with you and the whole 'Curse you, Spider-Man!' schtick. It's like, I don't know... I'm stuck in a time loop or I'm behind a cash register listening to customers rotate between the three jokes they're legally allowed to make day in day out, week after week, month after month and just… Every time I see you you've forgotten where we left off! I don't see how you find the energy for it, but try to find some courtesy too! And a different hobby while you're at it, just stop wasting my time, old man!"

The hurt that was written across Otto's face instantly told Peter he'd lost control there. Before regret could set in, Spider-Man catapulted himself at Doc Ock but seeing Otto make no move to defend himself, Spidey transitioned into a flip over the older man's slowly drooping shoulders and landed in a crouch behind Otto.

"What're you planning, Ock?"

In response, his most consistent nemesis heaved a long sigh, "That is a very good question, dear boy, a very good question indeed. Of course, you're right, about all of… This." The rotund man lowered his head in defeat, mechanical tentacles soon to follow. "You are no longer a child. Where does the time go? This is the bittersweet reality check that was coming I'm afraid. It felt like only yesterday that you were hurling insults at me in that high school aged voice of yours. You were much shorter and smaller then too. A lot smaller actually. Go home to your spouse. Apologize to her."

"Doc..I didn't—"

"You're right, Peter. Maybe I'm trying to hold onto something that slips further and further away. Time doesn't stop for anyone." And that was the last Peter had seen of Otto and he felt like a jerk about it.

—-

Who was he to call Otto old? He brushed the side of his head where he had more white hair than brown. He could probably pluck them out and weave MJ a very nice scarf with the amount of white hair he had. Probably go toe to toe with Doc Strange, Nick Fury, and Reed Richards and compare who had the most distinguished masculine ombré and who would get hit on the most in a nursing home because of it. It would be him of course. Eyepatches just look weird on old men and not sexy. And being stretchy is weird. Okay. Was he really daydreaming about how old he was getting? This was bad.

The last of the kids had filed out of the room before the buzzer went off. Peter pulled out his briefcase after 15 minutes, pressed the buttons inwards until the latches snapped open and tucked the stack of tests and reports into it while removing his reading glasses.

"You meeting us at the bar later, Pete?" Dan the biology adjunct popped his head in.

"I don't know, might drop by if I'm not sleeping on something or someone by then."

"What have you got a hot date? Make it a plus one, we don't bite."

Peter hadn't worn a wedding ring in about two years now, he'd started seeing MJ again almost a year ago but they weren't quite there yet. Had it really been that long since his cross-dimensional debacle with Miles? He'd be lying if he said he didn't miss those crazy kids, but the memory of them had gotten fuzzier as the months went by. When he had first landed back in his bed he half believed it was a Christmas Carol like deal where he had been visited by the three ghosts of Christmas past, or in his case the five spiders of alternate universes, to warn him of his depressing and slobbish ways. He had gotten his act together quickly and cleaned up a bit. While it was harder to attain the six pack he had in his 20s and 30s his abs had slowly but surely come out of their hibernation under the remnants of sad pizza nights. MJ had been happy to see him instead of slamming the door in his face and they had been taking it slow. Maybe too slow? His thoughts wandered back to calling Doc Ock an old man and his own battle with graying hair. Didn't she want kids?

"Might go bowling, do a game night, and get some tacos somewhere later. But if you're inviting me, sure."

The biology professor laughed, not derisively, but fondly, "What are you, a kid?"

"You know I get that a lot and I don't know why. Is it my innocent charm? My boyish good looks? If bowling and tacos is wrong then I don't think I want to be right, Dan." Peter stood, doing a quick bend to grab his briefcase still stuffed with papers yet to be graded.

"I don't know, I just don't have the energy to go bowling. I get home and I'd rather hit the bricks than the lanes. Shoot, I'm lucky I can stay awake through dinner with the wife and kids." Dan shrugs as he joins Peter in step down the hall.

"Fantastic. Is this what I have to look forward to?"

"Endless tiredness? Wanting to crawl into a casket and sleep forever? Yes."

"But I'm older than you." Peter raised his brows.

"And I have no idea how you always have the energy—"

"It's called coffee." Peter replied.

"No, I mean I never see you ready to shuffle off this mortal coil. You approach your lectures with the energy of an intern and then you find time to go out afterwards like you're one too. I'm not gonna lie Pete, I'm jealous." He paused a moment then leaned in with a conspiratory whisper, "So who are you dating?"

"What?!" Taken by surprise, Peter raised his voice louder than he'd intended.

"Well Amber and Julie are chatting around the water cooler again, and this time you're the target, you had to know your newbie status wouldn't protect you forever."

"And just what's so interesting about my dating life anyway?"

Dan crossed his arms and shrugged. "You're always rushing out of here too, big smile on your face like you're in a hurry to see someone. I'm feeling left out over here. Amber overheard you call a florist the week before Valentine's Day too."

You know what, she made him happy and he made her happy. He was proud of her, of them. Why shouldn't he brag a bit? "Well, she's an actress."

"My man!" Dan chuckled in disbelief. "How do you go from super model to actress? Are you for real?" He stamped his foot. "What do you do every day? Because my life would be vastly different if I were you!"

"Classic winning formula I guess. Eat a lot of pizza, lay around my apartment. And yeah, I'm serious. I'm actually dating my wife again, it's… Complicated. Good, but complicated." Peter shrugged.

"That's right! You were with that model! Congrats? I mean I'd wanna hear congrats for it. That's a good thing right? What's her name? Is she well known?"

"She hasn't actively modelled in a while, transitioned into acting actually. Thank you. I'd congratulate you for it. Mary Jane Watson. And I guess she's been in a few things."

"Whaaaaat" Dan exclaimed in a high pitched voice, "My wife loved that show about the chick in the apartment! Those sure were some, how do I put it? Heavy makeout sessions, how did you not get jealous? Sorry, too many questions, but this is a glimpse into a world I never really get to see."

"Lemme tell ya, it was chaos. I'd piledrive him, he'd roundhouse me, chokeholds left and right. It was UFC once the director yelled cut."

"Really?"

"No, are you kidding? I'd be in jail. Hot-headed boyfriends don't fly on-set. And besides it's just work, I knew what I was signing up for."

"Well aren't you a lucky so-and-so. So if you don't mind me asking, how'd you two get back together?" Dan asked.

"I'll tell you one thing, it wasn't an easy road. Spent a year dating large pizzas, National Geographic and the Travel Channel, then before I made a very big mistake I realized that I should probably try to apologize before it was too late. I was also very tired of crying in my bathtub."

"So what made you guys go splitsville?"

"I'm not gonna see our discussion in the next National Enquirer headline at the checkout, am I?"

"I think People would pay more, but I swear I'm not trying to be nosy, I'm just star struck. My wife and I really love your wife. Not in a 'creepy fan' way, but like a 'watched her show for several years and cried at the end of the finale' way."

Peter laughed. "I dunno, a lot of those creepy fans probably did that too, but look: She wanted kids and I didn't know if I could live up to the responsibilities of being both a husband and father. There's a lot riding on all that? I was doing the chemical engineer gig forty hours a week and I'm like, 'I'm boring! How is she still with me?!' I was a baby, a big, stupid baby. Honestly I'm surprised she took me back." He breathed out through pursed lips, "Like I said, complicated."

"Well hey, good for you, man. Good stuff. You should definitely bring your girl tonight because I can't get over this now! You're like some kind of star magnet, didn't you follow Spider-Man around as a kid too? What a life you've had, and sheesh, if you're older than me then what about Spidey? He's gotta be ancient."

—

It was awake and as old as the web of life itself, and for all that time all he'd felt was an endless, gnawing hunger. The cycle of stalk-hunt-feed was the only thing it had ever known, and for that it had grown to hate the spider, grown tired of the games they'd played over the millennia. The spider was always elusive. It would bestow other lesser things with its powers in order to hide. It hated The Spider with every ounce of its core. It had slept after devouring every other animal totem it tracked down but The Spider was always several steps ahead. It could live without devouring The Spider it supposed. It would be utterly content with going into a deep slumber for eternity never to feel consciousness again but it would never be satisfied if he let that stupid creature go. He had felt that energy across the edge of time and space. It was so close.

—

Spider-Man perched himself on his usual spot. He took out the paper he had been holding and set his coffee down with a sigh and turned the pages of The Daily Bugle. What could he say. He was still a loyal reader after all these years. He even listened to Jameson's podcasts once in a while. Speaking of which... The wallcrawler touched his phone screen to unlock it and tune into old Jameson's live cast for the day through a convenient app. He had only missed about 15 minutes of it give or take. His former boss had changed over the years. One could say the old man got tired of wasting so much energy on hating things so much. The Bugle had gotten a major update a decade or so after Peter left for newer pastures. Jonah had given the reigns over to Robbie and started his own podcast in order to keep up with the changing times. Peter would tune in every so often to hear Jameson get angry over the news of the day, talk politics, or conspiracy theories. Peter was a sucker for conspiracy theories.

"He was a kid! A mere child galavanting around as an adult!" Jameson's familiar frantic anger came in through the phone speaker so loud that Spider-Man had to lower the volume immediately. Ah. The nostalgia.

"It's outrageous! Disgusting!" The former news editor continued. "If his parents knew what he was doing I would have words with them!" There was a two second pause. "Listeners, thank you again for tuning in, our subject of the day is the notorious Spider-Man. He has been out here in New York doing his thing for almost 23 years now and still going strong. The guy still looks good and there's been a lot of speculation about his age. His fans, followers, and the fine servicemen who have worked with this veteran vigilante over the years have all deduced him to be a man currently somewhere in his late 30s to mid 40s. A lot of you have been calling in and requesting I do a show about this guy. As you all know I was never a big fan of his work. Ever. Over the years my feelings have changed and I will tell you why in a moment. My former bugle staff and you listeners have been sending in snippets of older footage of the wallcrawler and we even have gone over some audio of his earlier days when he first debuted himself in all his ridiculousness and, well, you can definitely tell he was a kid back then. The guy has definitely filled out his suit and has gotten taller over the years. Not to mention his annoying voice has dropped a few octaves since the 20 years he'd first showed up here. The fact of the matter is that we should all be grateful to this stupid kid for saving lives and sacrificing what he sacrificed to do what he does."

Peter pretty much choked on his coffee, gagging on it for a few seconds until some birds perched below him were annoyed enough to fly away. Was he hearing this right? Jonah? Actually saying something nice about him? Was there a national emergency? Was he terminal? Not to mention he, as Spider-Man, had fans and followers to the point where they were very creepily, stalkerishly, and accurately guessing his current age based on sound snippets and footage of him through the years? Spidey did not actually have the time to follow his fan pages with the weight of being an adult and balancing his aging superhero shtick. He made a mental note to look into his fan pages and twitter hashtags before going to bed that night however.

"Spider-Man, if you're listening, which..maybe you aren't because I wouldn't blame you.. I'm not saying I was right for all the years I printed those headlines implying that you were a troubled lad who committed controversial acts of daring do, BUT, at the same time I'm not saying I was wrong either because The Bugle didn't print libel on my watch ever. I only reported what I saw." Jonah's gruff voice continued to babble. "You don't have to forgive me but if you ever want to have a man to man talk and get things off your chest. You can reach me here."

Peter was so tempted to call the Bugle or create a throwaway email to contact Jameson at that very second. But the police radio that had been muffling in the background put a nix on his plans.

"..10-22...auto...in pursuit...pect...rmed."

Peter shot out a line and zipped away.

—

"Unit 472, we confirm that the suspect has taken a hostage. Repeat. The suspect has taken a hostage."

"All units pull back. It is imperative that all units pull back."

A grayish blue dodge hellcat shot down Bedford Ave with police vehicles almost dragging behind it, their sirens angrily screaming after their chase. The driver of the dodge, a tattooed all over and hairless stereotypical male desperado shakily slammed the muzzle of his firearm into the girl's cheek. She cried out as pink mascara ran down her face and marred the leather of the seats.

"Shut up if you want to get out of this in one piece. SHUT UP! I promise you I will pull this trigger if you try anything. If I can't get out of this, you're dead. You will get a bullet in your head if you make another noise."

The younger woman heaved and tried to comply. The car suddenly shook. Her and her kidnapper both suddenly looked up startled as they heard and felt a hefty WHUMP on the roof of the car. It honestly felt like an elephant landed on top of them.

"WHAT TH—" before the bald testosterone deficient male could finish his expression of surprise his driver side door was ripped off its hinges violently and abruptly. Mere seconds later he was sucked out of the car screaming and kicking like a jump scare in a horror movie. The young woman started to hyperventilate and the superhero known as Spider-Man casually slid into the driver seat resting his right costumed elbow on the back seat and casually steered the wheel with his left hand to avoid crashing into traffic while he glanced at her through his huge angry looking opaque white lenses.

"Hey, babe. Going somewhere tonight? Where can I drop you off?"

He only received a blood curdling scream in response.

—

The units stopped in front of the train wreck that was the captured convict that Spider-Man had left nicely gift wrapped and served up on the proverbial silver platter.

"Hey Straczynski. Check this out." The officer took out his cellphone and snapped a pic laughing loudly. The perp was strung up in a gigantic spider web and hogtied with the word "Loser" written below him in webbing.

"Did he really just Charlotte's Web this guy?" The younger officer asked incredulously.

"That's some pig, Edith." The older officer cracked up.

—

She put the finishing touches on her hair and spritzed herself with her favorite perfume before she heard the keys jingle the lock.

"MJ? Just letting you know I need a shower before we go anywhere." Peter tossed his keys in the usual spot on her kitchen table. Or was it theirs? She had given him the key to the house only a few days ago and told him it was okay to just start heading in. They'd moved past ringing the doorbell and now he slept over! Sometimes, anyway.

The redhead slinked over to the doorway of the bathroom. Her arm and the door were positioned tactfully enough to leave things to the imagination, but it still put his mind to work. Just inside Peter could see the dim flicker of candlelight.

"How about a nice hot epsom salt bath with me?" She smiled at him.

There was a pause.

"You know, we don't even have to go out if you don't want to." Peter dropped his briefcase and his coat where he stood as she slid her slim, sultry form over to him. He unbuttoned his dress shirt, revealing the familiar red uniform and spider emblem hiding beneath.

"I just thought we'd do a quick dinner and go out to meet your colleagues like you texted." She suggested.

"Does it have to be quick? Do we have to go out at all?" He pulled the tops he was wearing over his head and tossed them into a laundry basket in the corner with the practiced precision of a veteran clothes-chucker and followed her into the bathroom. It was lit by tea lights spaced strategically around the tub and a steaming hot epsom salt bath with rose petals waiting for them.

"What did I do to deserve this? MJ, this is amazing." He massaged her shoulders gently. "You're amazing, you know that? This couldn't be anymore perfect if a large hot pepperoni pizza appeared out of thin air." He glanced over to see her flashing a roguish smile in his direction and a hot pizza box sitting on the sink. Pepperoni.

"It couldn't hurt though, right?"

He flicked his eyes over to meet hers, "Marry me."

—

He held her close as they sat together in the tub massaging the day's knots out of one another's limbs.

"I can't believe you forgot it was our anniversary." The panic must have been instantly apparent on his face because she quickly gave him a gentle pat. "That was a joke, Pete, I just wanted to do something nice for you. You spend all of your time giving so much of yourself that I felt it was time you got a little something out of it."

"Your being in my life is all I need, but please don't give me a heart attack like that again or I might not get to enjoy it for much longer. I have enough trouble remembering important dates as it is, Tax Day, April Fools, my birthday… If you throw a fake one in there I'm doomed."

"You sure are charming, Mr. Parker."

"Are you calling me a dork?"

"Those are harsh words, tiger."

He leaned back in the tub and sighed, wrapping his arms around her slim waist. "You haven't called me that in over a decade you know. I'm shocked at how much I've missed it."

She pushed her weight back into him and turned herself so she could press her lips against his, gently at first, then firmer. As they broke away from each other he breathed in her soft scent mingled with the damp and soap smells of the shower. She fixed him dead in the eye, almost seeming to offer a challenge. "Then show me."

—

Peter wasn't used to driving a car, let alone MJ's little white Miata. The majority of his life he'd either ridden public transport or hopped and swung between rooftops. So when he didn't hit a single bumper or take out any of the side view mirrors of the double parked cars on either side of the street while backing out and navigated the car out of MJ's spot and onto the clogged roads without grinding a single gear of the manual transmission, he took it as a win.

—-

"Like getting back on a bike." He smiled at her. Uncle Ben had taught him how to drive stick before he'd even gotten his permit. Whenever they would run to the flea and farmer's markets for Aunt May on weekends they would spend about an hour on an empty side of the parking lot.

Ben considered driving an art form. "Pete, everything becomes second nature after a little while, like breathing. Don't go getting frustrated and give up just because you find something to be a bit difficult."

The young Peter had picked up the generalities of driving easily enough, if there was one thing Pete could do as a teen it was study. Picking up on the nuances of a manual transmission was more difficult, calling on muscle memory than anything else, like swinging from a web or casually walking up the ceiling or the side of a building.

"Hey, great job kiddo. Keep this up and you'll be flying fighter jets in no time. Your Aunt's making her wheat cakes so let's not keep her waiting."

—-

"Very impressive, Pete." Mary Jane pulled him from his reminiscing, "I kind of expected that we'd be swinging our way to the bar to meet your friends." She reached up with a comb to neaten his messy hair that had resulted from their quick dinner and relaxing bathtub-tussle a half hour before. "Not that I would have minded."

"Did you want to? Because I can turn this car around right now." He glanced at her bag and it looked like she had decided to bring her weekender for some reason. "Is that a blow dryer in your bag or are you happy to see me? You wouldn't happen to have a burger in there too, would you?" There was no superhero manual, but if there was the burden of maintaining enhanced super strength and other powers would likely take up several chapters, including one titled, 'Your appetite has driven you to bankruptcy. What comes next?'

She pointed the blow dryer at him. "It's actually a very special gun designed to take down human-sized spiders, sweetheart. Target was having a big sale in the Nefarious Technologies section and I just couldn't resist. Figured it might spice up the bedroom. Here you go." She placed a sandwich bag with a pb&j on wheat in his hand and put his sunglasses on his face, almost taking an eye out. Peter twisted his face into something ridiculous and looked over at her, between that and how lopsided his sunglasses had ended up they couldn't help but to laugh.

"Now that is kinky. Why can't all supervillains look as gorgeous as you? Or be as thoughtful. I can't believe you actually had a sandwich packed in there for me. You're the best, but I was kidding. Mostly. Why am I going incognito though?" He took one hand off the wheel to straighten the rogue aviators.

"I have a gig filming in the city next week and I'm off to Toronto the week after. It's not exactly widespread that I'm dating my ex again. I brought them just in case. I know you don't like getting your picture snapped."

"I don't think the paps like me unless I'm your co-star but wouldn't the shades kind of draw attention to me anyway?"

"It makes you look slick, like a bodyguard. You know us actors, nothing gets the blood flowing like being a bit provocative now and then."

"You celebrities and your cries for attention, honestly. I don't know why we put up with you and your ilk." Peter rubbed his chin. It wasn't that MJ was ashamed to be with him but he had declined every time she had asked him to be her plus one to an after party or accompany her to a premiere. He just wasn't comfortable in the spotlight, and even if he were his other gig could cause complications. She usually ended up taking her older sister Gayle to parties and award shows which caused much speculation about the man in her life from the checkout rags and celebrity blogs. They would even go as far as to try to claim she was dating her current male co-star of whatever film or series she was in.

"I was thinking while I'm away maybe you could use the time to move back in?" MJ leaned on the passenger door waiting for a response.

"Into... Your house… Right, makes sense." Peter didn't understand why this made him so nervous. Surely it wasn't because of the whole baby… Situation, right? I mean they were finally on the same page now so it was just a matter of the details, and it wasn't like he hadn't managed that before, I mean they just had, technically. But the intent of the act was different now, there was an objective to achieve and-

If he was stuck in this car with The Rhino he would know where things stood, he'd get headbutted out of the car, Rhino would say something earth-shatteringly stupid, punches would fly, he'd know where things went next, he'd be able to handle that. This whole bringing life into the world was unfamiliar territory, and to be honest it made him uncomfortable.

"You mean our house?" She corrected him. "You're already over there most of the week, I think it would be nice to have you back full time. When I see Spidey on the news I'm stuck worrying whether you made it back to your apartment in one piece. I think it feels right, why should we be sneaky about seeing each other? It's thrilling, don't get me wrong, I love having a secret affair with a superhero who happens to be you. Now I miss seeing you all the time, I'd really love to have you back as a permanent fixture in my life."

Peter was both elated and horrified to discover that you could still get butterflies in your stomach at almost forty. "Don't lie. You just want to stuff me and hang me up as a permanent fixture in your trailer. Taxidermied superheroes are a luxury that money just can't buy."

"I guess putting you in my trailer beats having to pay for security, what color do you want your new glass eyes to be?"

"My lease isn't up for another six months," he swallowed, "but I can start moving things in. What are you filming anyway? I meant to ask sooner, I know you mentioned it over text but finals were going on and I just…" He chuckled softly, 'Twenty years later and I'm still in school worrying about finals. Go figure."

"I guess we're even since I didn't ask you what kind of stuff Spider-Man got himself into today. The script was in the kitchen, you really didn't even glance at it?"

"I spend all day pouring over papers. You think I would even try to scale Manuscript Mountain?"

"I guess next time I'll just have to think it at you harder. I knew I should have left a post-it note." She said, a gentle smile tugging at the side of her mouth.

"Post it notes, smoke signals, morse code, and spoken word all work too you know. Maybe even a little bit better than expecting me to read minds. Not a power I was gifted with unfortunately."

She stifled a surprisingly girlish giggle for a grown woman. "You mean your spider-sense doesn't pick up on thoughts and feelings? Can't blame me for trying."

"I was bitten by a radioactive spider, not a radioactive Sylvia Browne. My spider-sense is just this weird precognitive thing that hasn't really changed since I was a kid. I can't just sit and grind it out and level up my skill set." He paused, "Be cool if I could though."

—

A few weeks ago.

"I don't want no trouble!" The man was backpedaling, trying desperately to escape the presence before him. He wanted nothing more than to turn and run as fast as he could but everything inside of him screamed not to turn his back on this thing. He stepped on something, the cardboard box that he called home and tripped, cursing in Russian. He was one of the forgotten souls unable to live the basic life afforded so many mortals. He would be the perfect meal, never noticed and never missed. It was exactly what The Hunter would need to restore some measure of strength to seek his true prey. The corpse-like shape shambled closer, as slow as winter but as inevitable as the call of the grave. The web of life had lead it here, and for now it would operate on pure instinct and need. The essence of mundane beasts and animals wasn't enough.

"Hungry..." It whispered as it extended the grotesque appendage it called a hand and grabbed the man's face in a grip as sure and fast as dried concrete. Milky eyes thick with some unknowable substance slowly began to clear as The Hunter drank down all of what the man had been. Thoughts, memories, human concepts; all condensed and understood in a moment. It felt its form shift with every life it took. It became more humanoid.

Still, he was left unsatisfied, nothing ever did quite compare to the entree. It was like searching for a pinprick of light in a black room, but at long last he locked onto it. A small, helpless little spider in its tiny little web, blind to anything outside of it. For the first time in a long time, he felt excitement. It was both delightful and amusing to know that the current chosen was so stupidly inept, so unknowing of its true potential. It was like giving a shotgun to an infant. How had this come to be? Surely The Spider's avatars were more in tune with their gifts, with the web of life as a whole. This one was different. This one was slow and stupid. This chosen was an idiot. The Hunter pressed on, laughing to himself a little, this was only just beginning.

"I'll be there soon, little spider. Just you wait."

—

"The Amazing Lobster-Man? Are you kidding me?! They even took my hyphen!" Peter pulled into an empty parking spot. "Please at least tell me he didn't get bitten by a radioactive lobster."

"Of course not," MJ choked back a laugh, "That would be stupid."

"Well at least there's that."

"He was pinched."

"Very cute, but I can't help but feel like there's a lawsuit in here somewhere. I need a cape copyright lawyer or something, it's a really underserved demographic. Litigator maybe, or Served: The Paper Warrior. Maybe I should get a Super P.I. to lay some groundwork, I know I have Jessica's number somewhere." Peter was only half joking.

"Well, husband of mine, you have a secret identity. They can't just ask Spidey to sign over the rights to his likeness, can they? Do you think they'd want to get through all that red tape? How would they get in touch with you? Is there even an agency that represents you like The Avengers? I hear Tony Stark has a movie deal."

"Of course he does." Peter put the car in park and sighed. "They came around a few times over the years, I just wasn't really comfortable handing over my license just to get my hands on some Stark Tech. Endless spa days, lux vacays, and guaranteed Bond Girl scuffles sound nice but..." He looked over to see MJ pouting at him, "I'm not kidding! That's how they pitched it!"

"Stark really used the word 'scuffles'?"

"You know, trying to appeal to the nerd in me. He knew I was a kid, he had to. You and I both know back then my attempt at deepening my voice wasn't fooling anyone and you and I weren't exactly public at the time. We were still meeting in back alleys weekly to make kissy-face."

"I remember, it would have been more often if we had cell phones back then."

"Imagine getting a text from Spidey saying to meet him in Bushwick for some smooches. Boy were we stupid. And when I say we, I mean me."

"We were kids, Tiger. It comes with the territory. I remember that was about the time my aunt was trying to set me up with her friend's nephew. Real real nerdy guy, cute though." She felt Peter's hand brush up against hers.

"Yeah, I know Aunt May kept telling me about this sweet girl next door who would make the perfect wife or something, but personally I was more interested in this fiery redhead from school who kept meeting me in shady areas around the city. Now she was wife material." Peter winked. "Anyway I turned down the chance to be a card carrying member of an all inclusive superhero club. I gave it a trial run but I like my independence, and being an Avenger would have taken a lot of that away. They were very team-oriented: Conference calls, round table meetings, trust-building exercises… All very corporate, just wasn't my style. It didn't help that whenever I called Tony 'Mr. Stark' or 'Boss' I died a little inside."

—-

"Listen, Spider-Man, anything you need, the sky's the limit because I could really use someone of your caliber on my team. You would have access to cutting edge technology, a prestigious internship, any kind of transportation you name it, the best schools—" Stark flashed one of those knowing smirks, the one that said he already knew anything you could possibly tell him, "That's if you were still in school of course. If you've got anyone you're taking care of then Stark Industries offers a very enticing package, you wouldn't have to worry because family comes first." Damn Stark and his sharp sense of style and those utterly sexy sunglasses that only he could pull off— God, he even smelled beautiful and rich.

"Gee, I don't know, Mr. Stark, I really need to think about it. I have some... Things... To take care of. At home." Spider-Man had still been wet behind the ears, and very much in need of a father-figure whether he knew it or not. If he was being honest with himself he was also a little star struck and Tony was a genius so deducing that much wouldn't be difficult.

"Tell you what, ki— Spider-Man." Stark coughed. "Just take the doughnuts," He shoved a box of pastries into Spider-Man's hands "Take the suit, and give 'em both a spin. I'll give you 72 hours to decide, no pressure. Have a good time, and-" He shrugged noncommittally, "If you don't want to work for me, it's fine. Trust me, it's always better to stay with no strings attached." It wasn't quite a villainous ultimatum, but it definitely left Peter feeling a bit wary. "The donuts are yours to keep though."

"What happens if I say no?" The younger Peter just had to ask. He already knew he would, but he wanted to see how the Avenger would answer.

"Then I would be very sad that I'd wasted a box of pastries, but if you want to be your own man and your own brand, I understand." Stark smoothly palmed a business card into Spider-Man's hand as they shook and gave Peter's shoulder a warm squeeze. "Talk to you later, buddy." With that Tony had straightened his suit and slipped away, businesslike and professional, leaving only beautifully clean scent behind. It was the closest thing to a connection the younger superhero had felt in a long time, and more than anything it made him miss his uncle.

The moment Peter got home that night his work began. It was a fun little toy, make no mistake, but he wasn't naive, and it was always a good idea to be careful of strangers bearing gifts. It was time to look into the suit Stark had given him. Despite being mechanical it hugged him like a second skin. During the five days he'd spent fighting alongside Iron Man he had barely scratched the surface of what this thing could do, he knew it was equipped with prehensile arms and even an AI so advanced that it was able to have an intelligent conversation with him. That was the first thing that he 'accidentally' disabled. The contract Stark had given him detailed what his first assignment would be and it basically sounded like he would be a personal bodyguard or, to be less diplomatic, a lackey. Peter ran into some snags that night as he deconstructed the suit while trying not to trip anything that would let his potential employer know he was snooping around, but when he found the little 'fail-safe' that Stark had installed which would lock him into the suit and paralyze him with a strong electric shock, the decision was made for him.

"You beautiful manipulator, you." He was gutted but he should have known. The guy was a billionaire after all, and you don't get to be one of those by playing nice. Spider-Man reassembled the suit, reactivated the AI, neatly folded it up, and left it and the contract webbed to Avengers Tower with a note that said "No Thank You." At least he'd gotten something out of the experience, he knew where he stood and the donuts were delicious.

—-

"Yeah, I really can't see you playing second fiddle to someone like Iron Man." MJ removed her seatbelt and opened the door to stretch her legs. "Even if you got to wear Armani and Givenchy all the time. Glam sort of loses its charm past your 20s."

"Absolutely, but he really did smell wonderful. It was part of the contract too, I'd even get those stylish sunglasses he wore and yearly bonuses. Imagine yearly bonuses just for getting black eyes and stopping muggers, I mean I already do it for free. I'm telling you, MJ, it was not an easy decision." He hoped his sarcasm was clear enough and he shifted the conversation. It wasn't exactly a lie, the benefits package that Stark had offered really did sound nice, but at the time it felt like making a deal with the devil, and nothing he'd seen since then had changed his mind. "You said yourself the script is uncanny in its accuracy, how is that possible?" Peter felt a headache starting to gnaw at the back of his skull and he didn't know what had triggered it.

"You don't have to worry. I found some parts to be coincidentally close to accurate. It's why I went after this role, I figured you would get a chuckle out of it too. But the screenwriter and director have been arguing over how it's not grounded in reality and there are definitely rewrites on the horizon."

"They have a point, getting powers from a spider doesn't sound too grounded in reality to me either. I'm definitely going to have to give this thing a read when we get home. For the record, yes, it does sound hilarious, but I'm going to be mad if this thing becomes a blockbuster. Maybe I can ask for royalties."

"Oh Sweetie, that's not how it works at all, and who would they make the check out to if they even had the heart to? A percentage of the film merch would also have to go to you. You'd have to work out with a lawyer how much you'd get if the flick surpassed expectations and performed well. And people haven't forgotten the restaurant. Or the food-poisoning incident."

"I'm still resentful about that, it was a catchy name. So what are you, the love interest?"

"Sort of, I'm the main antagonist and the love interest, it's very tragic."

"I don't recall having an affair with Osborn, now I'm a bit creeped out."

"I never said arch-nemesis, Petey, and if you're talking about Harry… Well, you two were awfully close back in the day." She knew he wasn't talking about Harry.

"It's called a bromance and there's nothing wrong with it. So is there an upside down kiss?"

"Underwater."

Peter unconsciously scrunched his face up in disgust, "What are they doing?"