Chapter Six: Consider the Coconut

Attending college lectures sounds easy enough in theory, but there were a dozen little things between waking up and actually arriving on campus that always prevented Peter from getting there on time. Getting out of bed was the hardest part. Peter often found himself complaining out loud whenever his alarm went off...to no one but himself, of course. He lived alone after all, in a damp apartment that smelt like condensation and looked like it was a few days from falling apart completely.

Then there was breakfast, and by breakfast Peter meant two cans of energy drink that he snagged from Johnny's place. What? It was totally nutritious and absolutely not going to give him a heart attack one day. Spiders don't have heart attacks. They probably don't even have hearts at all...just a massive black hole full of evil thoughts and replacement legs in case they ever lost one. Speaking of which, Peter had noticed how spiders always seemed to lose a leg. He unfortunately saw tons of them in his apartment under all the junk that he couldn't find the time to clean up. There were seven-legged spiders, a few five-legged, and there was one with only four limbs that he had spotted just yesterday, but eight? Nope. None, and if he ever found one, losing a leg wasn't going to be their primary concern. A giant shoe to their little hairy body would be. Peter hated spiders, as ironic as that sounded.

Stepping away from the subject of small insects, and towards bugs more...human-sized; next Peter had to find the mental strength to throw on his Spider-man suit. Have you ever swung around midtown in a tight-fitting outfit fighting off horde's of bad guys? Well, the sweat tends to stick and Peter didn't own a washing machine. Yes, it was kind of gross, but people were natural slobs and Peter Parker was no exception. He was only able to clean this costume once every week or so when his Aunt May volunteered at the homeless shelter (he'd have to sneak in like some common burglar to use her washing machine). She still didn't know about his alter ego, and he wanted to keep it that way.

Peter pulled the mask over his face, internally wishing that he hadn't opted for one that covered his mouth and prevented any fresh air from reaching him, then dove out of his window. A few web-swinging seconds later and he was shooting through the winding streets of New York. His destination was a tall building right across the street from his college campus; on the roof of which he kept his school bag and civilian clothes.

Why, you may ask? Well, because walking to school like everyone else had eventually become an unrealistic task. He would always run into trouble, and when he did he'd have to find a secluded place to throw off his normal clothes and hide his school supplies. This only ever succeeded in making him even later, for both class and the ass-whooping. Carrying the bag on his back as Spider-Man was also a no-go. It would tip people off about the age group he belonged to. So the only solution was to keep his bag near the campus, arrive there as Spidey, then leave as Peter Parker.

The morning was relatively crime-free this time, though. He saw a few jaywalkers and cars that were going slightly over the speed limit; but these weren't his battles to fight. He was instead looking forward to actually arriving on time for his lecture on Chemical Thermodynamics, and then to finally attend his tutorial with Annabelle. Peter swooned in mid-air and almost forgot to make himself a new web. He swung too close to the walkway and heard a few gasps as people jumped out of his way.

"S-Sorry!" Spider-Man yelled out, waving sheepishly at the crowd who still looked relatively shocked by him almost tumbling into them.

Peter huffed, setting his sights back on the horizon. He could almost see her face fading into it like one of those memorial posters. He remembered more clearly now than ever before that she always smelled like a bakery. Not flowers, or vanilla, or any of that boring stuff. Annabelle smelt like fresh food; as if she spent her days going from place to place just eating their best dishes...or, you know, it could also be because she worked in a restaurant. Either way, she smelt good. Peter meant that in a totally not weird way, but there was no way to tell her that without sounding like a creep.

It was easy back a few centuries ago, you'd just write them some corny poem and they'd fall head over heels. Now, though, there was no way of knowing whether they'd enjoy something that cheesy, or if they were lactose intolerant.

Amidst such a riveting inner monologue, Peter almost missed the police officers standing on the side of the street; they had just set up some yellow tape around a large Palm tree that Spidey, quite honestly, couldn't remember ever seeing there before. It was like it grew overnight or something...

Like an incredibly talented ballerina, the web-head vaulted off his webline, hurtled towards a street light pole next to the cops who looked rather exhausted, then grasped himself against it. The cops all jolted when he landed and said, out of breath, "H-Hey...guys... Is everything okay?"

At that point, the wall crawler began to spy a dozen or so smashed coconuts splayed all over the floor.

The three cops glanced at each other. "Hey don't look at me, you're the ranking officer." One murmured.

This ranking officer in question, ran a hand down his face and sighed. "U-Uh...well..." He then pointed up at the palm tree. Peter turned his attention towards this vegetable monolith, and in the corner of his eye, spied an object hurtling toward his face at the speed of an average baseball pitch.

A coconut bounced off Spider-Man's head. And yes, many of you may say 'whatever, Spidey has like super durability or some shit'. Kind of. He isn't that tough. He's slightly meatier than your average guy, but that's about it. He could still stub his toe on a coffee table like every other human being, and now the arachnid had a massive bump right under his hairline.

"OW! OH GOD...OW...!" Peter whelped, sliding down the pole and onto his feet.

The lead police officer rubbed the back of his head. "Wait...aren't you meant to have that spider-sense thing?"

"It only works for life-threatening danger." Spidey explained.

"A coconut isn't life threatening? Those things can kill, man."

Peter looked back up at the palm tree and saw a figure huddled atop the leaves. "COCONUTS TO YOU!!"

Spidey looked to the floor.

"Uh...Spidey? You okay?"

The webslinger shook his head. He didn't think that he'd have to deal with something like this today. "I should've stayed in bed this morning..."

The third cop cocked his head. "So who is this guy...?"

Spider-Man sighed, and as his eyes wandered back up the unimpressive palm tree, he saw a familiar face grinning down at him from the very top. "Plantman. He...controls plants. Only ever seems to make trees though."

The ranking officer's brow furrowed. "Why's that?"

Another coconut flew passed their heads and Spider-Man exhaled heavily. "I don't know. He's insane."

"What's the hold up?" Another voice permeated through the air; Spider-Man and each of the three cops glanced in the direction it had come from. Standing there, behind the yellow tape, was the large frame of Luke Cage. He was holding bags full of groceries in either hand.

"Plantman." The webhead replied in an almost bored monotone. Not every day can be extra terrestrial battles for Earth...sometimes you just had to deal with a weirdo and his coconuts.

"Aww come on. Not again." Luke groaned in irritation and dropped his shopping on the ground. He stepped over the tape, then marched closer to the giant sapling. "Get your ass down here, Sam!"

The man in the tree ducked back under the bright green leaves and wailed "No!"

"Don't you make me come up there!"

There was a temporary silence. Peter hated those. Somehow, he always needed to burp when it got quiet. Luckily for him that atmosphere was swiftly broken when Samuel, aka Plantman, hurled another hard-shelled drupe to the ground. Luke caught it in mid-air, almost too easily, and glared up at its point of origin.

"I swear to Jesus if you don't get down here right now, I'll peg this at you so hard it'll make your head spin." Luke exclaimed even louder than before.

As entertaining as this scene was, Peter jumped back onto the traffic pole and saluted his friend's valiant attempts to stop the coconut-wielding menace. "Well, looks like you've got everything handled. I'm already late so I gotta get going."

Luke frowned, and that expression fell into outrage when he saw Peter leap over to his shopping bags and snag a pack of beef jerky from inside. "Hey! Don't you dare! That's my jerky, man."

"A-Ah sorry, I can't hear you with the...mask and everything." Peter chuckled anxiously then sprinted away from the scene like the food stealing villain that he had become.

Okay, so maybe he shouldn't have taken Luke Cage's beef jerky...but that's what being a poor college student will do to you. It makes you crazy. Seriously, Peter's seen at least twenty people have a mental breakdown in the campus library. What do you call people that are ripping out chunks of their hair and crying over massive textbooks? Crazy. Being a college student was a real condition.

Upon finally arriving at his destination, the first thing Peter did was get changed into his civilian clothes and open that jerky. He grabbed about four at once and bit into them with a groan of satisfaction. It was safe to say that Peter was in a much better mood as he strolled across the road with that packet in his hand. He had most definitely missed his lecture, but that tutorial with Annabelle was probably still within reach.

He rushed to building 5, room 20, and managed to find a seat right next to the door so that barely anyone noticed him coming in. Peter leaned against the back of his chair and took a large inhale through his nose; pleased to have finally made it almost on time for a class. Now the only task remaining was to find Annabelle and waste the hour away just staring at her. Again, not in a creepy way. If there was one thing that Peter Parker wasn't, it was creepy. Right? Right.

He scanned the room, mostly trying not to appear too suspicious. There was one girl biting her nails, and a guy that looked either asleep or dead; but no Annabelle. Now that he got a closer look, he didn't recognise anyone in this room...not even the professor.

"UFO sightings happen all over the world," The tutor said in a voice akin to pork crackling, don't ask how, it just was. "but today we're going to break that down and ask ourselves 'what else could it be?'. A cloud formation, a test missile, or are aliens really visiting us?"

Oh god, no. This wasn't his class, it was 'Close Encounters of a Multidisciplinary Kind'. A unit that Peter had always thought was absolutely and completely ridiculous. I mean, of course aliens are real. Had they not heard of Captain Marvel or the Kree? It wasn't even an argument anymore, and yet some people still insisted on maintaining the belief that it was all an illusion. It was usually slated right after his literature class. This was when he finally, for the first time that day, let his eyes wander up to the clock on the opposite wall. His expression fell into disarray. He wasn't just late...he had missed his lesson entirely.

To add salt to this fresh wound, as he tried to sneak back out of this classroom, he kicked his shoe against the metal leg of his desk and earned the attention of every single person. Their beady little eyes stared at him like dozens of beetles. That was his cue to sprint away, hearing the loud snorted laughter of the students left behind. He ran for so long that in no time at all he was off his main campus, and dashing towards the less prestigious college next door.

Suddenly, without any warning from his so-called 'Spidey-sense', he tripped and went crashing down the pathway. He didn't know how to explain it. One moment he was running, with his shoes pounding against the ground, and the next he was in mid-air with his arms flailing around like a confused and flightless goose.

"Have a nice fall, dickwad?" The voice of the dumbest person in the universe spoke, and Peter wasn't surprised to turn around and find Flash Thompson standing behind him. His foot was sticking out slightly, almost guaranteeing that he had been the one that tripped Peter.

Peter sighed but didn't bother getting back up from his new home in the asphalt because Flash would likely just push him back down; and he'd have to pretend like he couldn't dodge it. Peter didn't understand why his senses hadn't warned him about this. How did they not perceive Flash as a threat?! He was massive! I mean, absolutely ginormous by normal mortal standards. He was a jock, after all, and not to use stereotypes...but he only got into college because of his football scholarship.

Peter had thought that once he got into college that he'd be rid of Flash, only to discover that his High School bully had been accepted into the university next to his...that may sound like a once in a lifetime coincidence, but it was just the Peter Parker luck. Nothing ever went right. He did manage to somehow keep hold of his beef jerky though...that was a positive.

Flash left with a laugh that boomed around Peter, almost as if it had been playing on loud speakers just to taunt him. The science major waited on the ground for the jock to vanish out of sight, but before he could jump back to his feet a slender, ink-stained hand reached out towards him. Peter choked on the air from his own lungs. He'd recognise that hand anywhere.

"That guy always trips you when you go this way." Annabelle said in her husky tone. "Are you alright?"

Peter glanced up in humiliation. He had wanted nothing more than to see her today...but not like this; with his face buried in the concrete and a lump on his head from that damned coconut. Peter was reluctant, but he certainly wasn't going to miss the opportunity of holding her hand in a completely natural setting.

Perhaps a little too eagerly, he grabbed her hand and heaved himself back upright with a goofy grin on his face. Her touch felt like it was destroying and remaking the atoms around him; like it could either kill him or give him life...or some other poetic rubbish. Who cares. Her hand was holding his, and Peter was so giddy with excitement that every ounce of intelligence had fled from his mind. Truly, it had. If someone were to ask him what Chemical Engineering was at this moment, he'd probably tell them that it was a cooking major or something.

"Uhh...Peter?" Annabelle's brow furrowed and Peter's heart hammered like that of a teenage girl at a Finn Wolfhard concert...he was a singer, right? Peter hadn't been too involved in the latest music trends or tv shows. All he knew was that young girls really liked him.

"Oh, yeah, sorry." Peter internally sulked as Annabelle moved her hand away. "I'm fine. How was class? Did I miss anything?"

"We were just talking about one of the readings." Annabelle shrugged as if this unit was the easiest thing in the world to her. "A Midsummer Night's Dream. Have you finished it yet?"

Peter gulped nervously. He hadn't even bothered to look at the primary readings, but he wasn't about to tell her that. Especially not after discovering her passion for Shakespeare. "Of course. It's a work of genius."

"Isn't it, though? I love how he uses his poetic language to create melodramatic moments that both reinforce and mock the play's central theme of romantic love." Annabelle's eyes lit up at the subject... God, how was Peter meant to concentrate when she looked at him like that? "We spoke specifically about Oberon's scene in act 2. 'Quite overcanopied with luscious woodbine, with sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.' It's beautifully written, how he reveals his tender feelings for the queen even as he plans to manipulate and humiliate her."

Okay, if Peter's mind was blank before then it was practically nonexistent now. He had no clue what she was talking about, but she smelt like cheesecake today and that must've been more important than anything else. Her hair was twisted into about eight small top knots, and her dress was blindingly yellow with hand drawn flowers and puppies. People stared at her as if she'd escaped from a mental institution.

"What do you think about it?" Annabelle suddenly asked and this managed to snap Peter out of his daze, then right into a quiet panic.

"Uh... I think it's really cool how, yeah, he's gonna betray her and stuff." Peter mentally cursed himself for not just telling the truth. It was too late for that now though. "Basically everything you said."

Annabelle blinked. Shit! She knew he was lying, didn't she? No one blinks like that without suspicion. Who even blinks anymore anyway? He was caught. It was over. She'd never even look at him again. "Yeah? Cool."

Peter's breath hitched. That was it?...okay, well maybe he had overreacted a little.

"I've got to get to work, but it was nice seeing you Pete. Don't skip class next week." Annabelle waved, and the colourful bracelet around her wrist jingled.

"O-Oh I didn't-" Before he could even get the words out she was gone. "skip..."

Peter finally let out the breath that he had been holding in, then as if for some poorly constructed plot device, his mobile vibrated in his pocket. Peter fumbled to get it out, and when he did it took a further minute or so to get the damn thing to stop glitching. The name 'Harry' flashed across his screen and Peter scrambled to open the message.

It had been far too long since he'd heard from his best friend, and he had started to worry. There were a few times that he had even dropped in at Harry's penthouse but he was never home. The text read 'Sorry, Pete! Been a bit busy. Oscorps been working me to an early grave. I got a day off today though. Come over.'

That sounded more like a demand than a request, but it had never been possible to refuse Harry of anything anyway. One of the showcases of growing up rich, Peter supposed. Not that it mattered. Peter was all too happy to visit him in his massive home full of expensive food, a personal chef, and old pinball machines. After all, what are friends for?