Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Peter twisted around to turn off his alarm clock. He randomly pressed the screen until the dreaded noise stopped. Unfortunately, it was time to wake up.
Peter trudged into the living room, rubbing his eyes and yawning to the kitchen. Tony was sitting on the island, sipping what must've been his 5th cup of coffee.
"Good morning, bambino," said Tony, ruffling Peter's hair. "You go to sleep late?"
"Not that late." Peter yawned, pouring himself some cereal.
"Yeah, sure." Tony walked to the coffee maker and poured himself another cup. "Don't forget you have a field trip today."
"Yeah, I won't. Didn't Harley go on this field trip last year?"
"I think so. Where is your brother?"
"Probably asleep."
"Yeah, no shit," muttered Tony.
A few minutes later, both Tony and Harley emerged from Harley's room, Tony pulling the latter along with him.
"Dad, leave me alone," Harley complained. "I need sleep."
—
"Do you boys have everything?" Tony asked again . "Peter, you got your inhaler? Epipen?"
"Yeah, Dad," said Peter, rolling his eyes. "I won't die."
"Sure," Tony replied.
"Relax, Dad, he'll be fine. I'll make sure of it," Harley said before disheveling his brother's hair.
"Hey, leave me alone!" Peter stepped away from Harley.
"Bye, boys," said Tony.
"Bye, Dad."
—
"Dude, come on, we're going to be late." Ned pulled Peter's arm as the soon-to-be spider-ling admired the exhibitions.
"Yeah, I'm coming," said Peter as he pushed up his glasses. They quickened their pace to catch up with the tour guide.
She eyed them disapprovingly. "Next, we'll be going into the spider rooms. Oscorp has always had an interest in spiders ever since Emily Osborn's husband passed away from lung cancer. Now, if you follow me…"
"What do you think the spiders do?" Ned asked. "Maybe they can speak English or something? Or like grow in size?"
"Dude, that'd be so cool."
"Mr. Parker, Mr. Leeds, please pay attention to the guide," said Mr. Dell. "You have to fill out the worksheet, don't forget."
They hurried to the front of the group where the guide was.
"This is the Long-Horned Orb-Weaved or the Macracantha. They are typically found in forest areas. Some countries it may be found in are India, Bangladesh, Vietnam, and Thailand. However, it can be located in many more," she said.
A student politely raised their hand.
"Yes?" asked the guide.
"Is that spider over there dead?" They pointed to a cage in which the spider was lying on its back.
"Let me see." The guide walked up to the glass jar and examined the spider. She stared at it for a few minutes, and when it showed no sign of movement, she opened the cage. "So the scientists know it's dead."
The tour guide went to the next exhibit, and Peter's mind drifted to the dead spider. It was still there, though he swore it squirmed a little. Gross, he thought. Spiders always gave him the creeps. Why'd they have to have 8 legs?
The lady brought them to the next room, explaining some more about the experiments that were being done, but Peter didn't find himself interested.
—
"Hey, loser, you all right?" Michelle asked him a few hours later. Peter shut his eyes as they left the building, trying his best to ignore the sunlight that seemed to be burning his eyes.
"I'm fine," Peter mumbled, trusting Ned to lead him onto the bus.
"Peter, you look really bad," said Ned.
"I'm fine," Peter repeated, squeezing his eyes closed.
"You don't look fine."
"Just a bug or something," Peter replied. Michelle glared at his unconvincing lie.
"You look like you're two minutes away from turning into a zombie." She crossed her arms.
"Lemme sleep," said Peter, taking the window seat.
—
"Peter, come on, wake up." The voice was hazy, but Peter couldn't tell if it was close or far away. Someone shaking his shoulders forced Peter to open his eyes. The sunlight bore into them, and he squinted, trying to block as much as he could out.
"Are we 'ere?"
"Yup," said Ned, getting up from his seat. He offered Peter a hand, and Peter took it. He—with the help of Ned—stumbled off the bus and to the pick-up zone. "Seriously, dude, you're burning up."
"Hmm." Peter closed his eyes, holding on to Ned's shoulder for guidance as they went towards the cars. Suddenly they stopped walking, and Peter barely caught him from falling flat on his face.
Ned elbowed him softly. "Dude, we're here. Open your eyes."
Peter squinted, making out a figure in front of him. "Dad?"
"Yeah, it's me, Pete," said Tony, getting out of the car. "What happened?"
Peter tried to reply, but his words came out incomprehensible. Tony turned to Ned.
"He's sick, Mr. Stark. I mean, he was fine this morning, like when we got there but then he just sort of got really bad."
Tony held a hand to Peter's forehead. "Christ, kiddo." The billionaire turned to Ned. "Thanks for bringing him here."
Ned nodded quickly. "Of course, Mr. Stark! Feel better, Peter." He walked away.
Peter nodded meekly, leaning against Tony.
"Come on." Tony led Peter to the backseat, carefully sitting him down. Peter kept his eyes closed, and once he was in his seat, he blocked his ears with his hands.
"Bambi," Tony said softly. "Can you tell me what happened?"
Peter groaned, curling up into the seat. "Hurts."
"What hurts?"
"Everything."
"Everything, huh? We'll be home soon, all right? Or do you wanna go to the hospital?"
Peter shook his head. "Home."
—
Peter blinked slowly, pushing himself up from his bed. His fever was all but gone, and the headache had vanished. Peter hopped off the bed, immediately noticing the cuffs of his pajamas higher on his legs. Huh, weird.
He walked to the door and placed his hand on the doorknob. He pulled it down, but instead of the door swinging open, like usual, the doorknob was ripped right off, and it clanged on the floor.
"Weird," Peter muttered, staring at the ground. He picked the doorknob up and tried to reattach it to the door. As he let it go, instead of falling again, the doorknob stuck to his hand. Peter tried to use his other hand to remove it, but it also stuck.
"What the hell?" Peter took a deep breath, trying to shake off this fever hallucination he must've been having. The doorknob slowly unstuck from his hand, finally dropping. Okay, that worked.
Peter sighed, pushing himself against the door. It only took a second for the door to fall backward, crashing onto the floor. Peter bit his lip, trying not to scream.
"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!" Peter stood up in an instant, staring at the door. It had been ripped clean off the hinges. "Friday?" Peter asked quietly.
"Yes, Peter?"
"Am I- Did that just happen?"
"It did. Would you like me to wake Mr. Stark up?"
"No- It's… I'm fine."
"All right."
Peter stepped over the door and hurried downstairs to grab a glass of water. Either he was hallucinating or just too sick to actually see what was going on, and clearly, some water and sleep were the best solutions.
—
Peter's eyes shot open as soon as he heard his dad step into his room. He could almost hear Tony's heartbeat; it was fast and nervous.
"Dad?" Peter stared at him for a second. "Good- Good morning."
"Morning, Pete. You feeling better?" Tony placed his free hand on Peter's forehead. Then he checked Peter's hand, squinting his eyes. "Your temperature feels normal, kiddo. And your hand's not swollen anymore."
Peter nodded quickly. "Yeah, I feel way better."
"Uh-huh." Tony glanced to the door and then back at Peter. "Quick question, Bambi, what the hell happened to your door?"
Peter froze. "Right, that. I have no idea. I think it just… fell…"
"The door… fell?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow. Peter gave him a weak thumbs up. "Okay, then… I brought you some toast if you want it." He handed the plate to Peter, who only held onto it for a second before it shattered in his hands.
"Shit," said Peter, dropping the piece he was holding.
Tony gave Peter a weird look. "Jesus, kid, you're stronger than I remember."
"I guess- I guess I am."
"Okay, well, why don't you go to the bathroom to wash your face or something, and I'll clean this up. Don't want you getting hurt."
"Uh, yeah, sure." Peter entered his bathroom, and using all his effort, he gently closed the door. Peter looked into the mirror, trying to decipher what the hell was going on? Had he seriously knocked down a door and then shattered a plate by accident? Peter glanced around the bathroom, eyes falling on the shower. Yeah, he could do it with a shower.
Without thinking, Peter placed his hand on the door handle and began pulling it down. The door handle crushed under the strength.
"Crap." Not a dream, then. "Daaaaad?" Peter yelled through the door.
"Yeah, kid? Everything okay?" Tony yelled back.
"Can you just get me some clothes, please? I'm gonna take a shower." His dad would open the door himself, and everything would be fine. Weird new abilities not discovered.
"Sure, bambino." It took a few seconds, but the bathroom door swung open, and Tony handed Peter sweatpants and a t-shirt. He looked up and down at his son. "Are you sure you're fine?"
"Yeah, Dad- I'm fine. Thanks." He waited for Tony to close the bathroom door, still not trusting himself.
Peter took off his pajama top. It would be safe to say that when he saw himself in the mirror, he was in complete and total shock. Jesus Christ, Peter had a six-pack. What the actual fuck?
"Oh my god," he said quietly. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." Peter tried to open the tap and wash his face (clearly, he had some other vision problems he wasn't aware of), but it was ripped right off. Water started spewing out of the hole, drenching Peter.
Peter, once again, without thinking, tried to open the door, which made the crushed door handle fall right off.
"Dad?" Peter shouted while running a hand through his very wet hair.
"Yeah, Pete?" Tony asked.
"Can you open the door? It broke–"
"How did it break? What even broke?"
Peter held the crumbled doorknob in his hand. "Door handle. It… fell off." Peter could hear Tony messing with the door from the other side until it finally opened. Peter dropped the doorknob to the floor, hiding it under a towel.
"Thanks…"
Tony stared at him, squinting his eyes. "No problem, kid. Tell me… tell me if you need anything, all right?"
"Yeah, of course," Peter said hastily. He watched Tony leave the room, holding his breath until the very last moment.
—
After Peter managed to take a shower (without anything else exploding, thank you), he decided to test his powers. Slowly, Peter stuck a hand to the wall, willing it to stick. Peter put some weight on it, and surprisingly, he felt it stuck there. Peter placed another hand, then his feet.
"Holy crap, this is awesome," Peter muttered, climbing higher up the wall.
At first, he didn't go fast, checking to see if he was truly stuck every time. Eventually, he lost that cautiousness and crawled on the ceiling with absolutely no regard for his safety.
Peter crawled to above where his bed was. He positioned himself and, taking a deep breath, let go of the ceiling. He fell onto the cushions, grinning widely.
"Friday," said Peter, "are you gonna tell Dad about any of that?"
"It's not in my protocol to tell him about things that don't pose a danger to you. Would you like me to tell Mr. Stark?"
Peter shook his head quickly. "No, no. It's fine, thanks. Just out of curiosity, though, where is Dad right now?"
"Mr. Stark is in a meeting. It's scheduled to last until 3 PM. Would you like to contact him?"
"No, it's fine. Thanks, Fri." Peter grabbed a hoodie, preparing his plan. He left his phone charging on the desk and snuck over to the elevator to the best of his ability.
"Peter, where do you plan on going?" Friday asked, her tone sharp. Peter flinched. Hopefully, his lie would work.
"Ned's mom is picking me up for a sleepover," Peter said, looking up at the ceiling. "Dad said it was all right."
Friday processed the information, taking a second. "If you insist."
Peter went to the ground floor and exited the building. A few employees gave him odd looks but other than that, his plan was completely successful.
Peter pulled his hood down, staring at the ground as he walked. It took a while, but he finally found an empty alleyway he could, well, climb.
"Here goes nothing," Pete said to the empty air. He scaled to the top of the building in no time (not that it was very tall) and sat down on the ledge, swinging his feet. He bit his lip, trying not to smile. Peter Stark had superpowers.