There are a few points I'd like to make here, starting with the medical system in the 1930s being pretty hardcore terrible. If you'd like extra information on sources used I'll pop a link or two at the bottom, it's NUTS, man. It also was pretty damn abrupt. Sos everyone involved. Also, in general, Peter Parker's healing factor is hella fucking whack. He figured out he had a flu once and it was cured as soon as he figured out what was wrong. Like. I wish I was making this up? But I ain't. Source will also be at the bottom, because it's one of the funniest pages in comics. Anyway, reason I bring this in particular up is because it's so weird I figure I can do whatever the fuck I want with it, and so have done so.
ALSO: special thanks to mariadperiad20 for the Spanish translations in this chapter~~ They were super helpful, so everyone cheer at them~~
ALSO ALSO: post/183375536167/specspectacle-something-of-a-wip-bc-i-want-to
post/183190571432/specspectacle-specspectacle-so-my-favorite
It had felt like being gutted.
Peter had opened his mouth and things that he had never told another soul had come tumbling out. The pain, the fear, the death. Quick and hushed, admitting things that he had never wanted to admit, all in hopes of getting them to let him go. It had backfired in a way that Peter had never expected.
It wasn't meant to get them to…to cry, to want to…to want to hold him, and yet…and yet here he was. The bloody mangled coat was still wrapped around his shoulders, and Rio hadn't cared. She hugged him past it, ignoring the smell that must come from it, from him. Blood and sweat and that sour smell of pain. He wondered idly if she was used to it, what with being a nurse. In the end, the only thing on his mind was one simple fact:
Peter hadn't been held like this in years. He hadn't held anyone like this in years.
Even before he had cut ties with his old life and hid from the world he had known, Aunt May had never been a touchy-feely kind of woman. She wasn't exactly hard but there was a certain distance that she had always held between them. She had held him the night Peter had found Uncle Ben, the two of them clinging to each other as though they were the only thing the other had left. They were in a way, but that still didn't change the fact that he hadn't felt another person's arms wrapped around him like this in so long he had forgotten how it felt.
He had forgotten the warmth, that odd feeling in his chest that burned in a way that he wasn't familiar with. He felt like he was drowning again, but…almost in a good way, surrounded, and almost safe. It didn't matter that it made his ribs and spine ache with the pressure, though Rio's hold on him was deceptively gentle.
That almost made it worse.
Peter didn't think he would ever find another way to starve, but it seemed that he had actually been starving for longer than he had realized, in a way that he had never even anticipated.
Who heard of starving for touch of all things?
When Rio finally began to draw back, Peter felt the terrible impulse to hug her tighter to him, to not let go, but he forced himself to, keeping his chin down, his eyes on the ground. Warm hands on his shoulders drew his attention up to Rio's face, to the soft smile spreading across warm skin, her dark eyebrows pinched up on her forehead, eyes of a shade he didn't know but wanted to, stared into his own with such a tenderness that he felt small.
"Peter," she started softly, "I'm so proud of you. Thank you for agreeing to try, I know it can't be easy, but you're trying." Peter felt as though he had been punched in the chest. He gave a small nod, still hunched up and quiet. "I want to talk to my husband and Miles for a moment," she said, addressing the rest of the room. "You're all still welcome to stay, that's not what this is about. But I want a moment. There's things we need to discuss."
"If you don't want us to hear I'd recommend talking in the farthest room with some music on," Peter B said, shifting Peni in his arms. "Got better than usual hearing. It came with the other powers."
"Thank you for the heads up," Mr. Davis sighed, taking his wife under his free arm as she came up to him, and holding her close to him as the three of them turned. Miles remained pressed into his father's hold, and the small family walked away. As they walked, Miles remained looking back at Peter with eyes that seemed afraid that should he blink, Peter would run away. Peter tried to infuse his determination to stay into his expression, knew he probably failed, and instead found himself looking at the ground again.
For a moment there was silence, and then Peter came to realize that someone was standing at the edge of his vision. He looked up a little, meeting eyes with Porker, who had brought Gwen with him. His gaze lifted a little more and found Peter B still holding Peni standing next to them. He didn't say anything for a moment, not sure what he could say. What did you say in a situation like this? Peter didn't know and he wasn't sure what he could do, either. He didn't want to say anything.
It hadn't been working out for him lately.
Peter B sighed, and then shifting Peni to hold her more securely with one arm, he spread his other arm out, an open invitation. Peni held out her own arm afterwards, Gwen followed by opening hers, and then Porker spreading his arms as wide as they could go.
Peter blinked, for a moment not able to bring himself to move, when Porker gave a soft snort.
"Come on, kid, my arms are getting tired," he said softly.
"Your arms are getting tired," Peter B said, rolling his eyes so hard it moved his entire head. "I'm holding a whole kid over here," he winked at Peni and Peni gave a brief laugh.
"Yeah, like she's so heavy," Porker responded, rolling his eyes just as aggressively as Peter B.
"You calling me fat, pig?" Peni shot back.
"Now that's just offensive!" Porker exclaimed, before turning back to Peter after the sound of Peni's giggling bubbled out. "You might as well bring it in, Pete, we ain't moving anytime soon. Embrace your fate."
The series of groans and chuckles that followed that comment were barely acknowledged as Peter remained staring at the group of them, all of them waiting, all of them with open arms. Peter didn't like the idea of touching them, even with the fact that he caved to Rio hovering over his conscious. It still felt like a failure, like an admission of weakness, like… Like he was contaminating them, marking them for death, or loss, or pain.
But Peter Benjamin Parker was selfish.
He took that slow shuffling step forward, and that was all the invitation that Peter B apparently needed in order to reach out and pull him close. Peni was next due to proximity, sandwiching him in-between the two, followed by Gwen, and then Porker, who leapt up enough to be able to squeeze in-between Gwen and Peni and wrap his arms around Peter's shoulders.
They weren't anywhere near as gentle as Rio had been, their arms pressed into him, around him, digging in and making pain bloom along and around his chest, his spine, aching in his skull, but Peter welcomed that as much as the sentiment of the hug itself. Peter closed his eyes, feeling the warmth that pressed against him from all sides, trying to memorize how it felt, the feeling of belonging that pulsed alongside the pain. His skin felt like it was tingling, electricity crackling in his brain in what he thought might be a similar feeling to Miles' ability. It was on the edge between being either the most painful or the sweetest thing that he had ever felt. He didn't know what to do with his hands, so he just let them hang by his sides, balling into trembling fists as he drowned in the feeling. Drowned in the idea that they didn't care what was covering him, that they were probably getting themselves dirty, that they'd still hug him past it.
It wasn't going to last, and later he would have to be sure to keep his distance as much as possible to keep them from getting too attached. Would have to turn down their offers of hugs and closeness. But for right now…
For right now, Peter was going to bask in it, and later, when he felt as though he couldn't pull the trigger on himself, when he finally did start to cross that line, he would think of this moment and know with certainty that he was doing the Right Thing.
Miles pressed his head against his father's shoulder, his eyes closed as he leaned into him with exhaustion pulling his frame down. That had been a lot. So many things that he had never heard of, so much death, and despair. It had been so much and to know that one of his friends… And he still felt so small. He felt like he had been gutted, like he had been held up to a standard and found wanting. How could Pete think of him as anything other than weak?
Miles burrowed his head into that juncture between neck and shoulder and felt as his dad rubbed up and down his back, his mom pressing a kiss to his forehead and then leaving to grab another change of clothes after she went into the bathroom to wash her hands. Blood was a contaminate and Pete was still covered in it. Miles was left in his dad's arms and he hadn't been held like this in so long, having gotten to the point where he had been thinking of it as babyish, but at the moment there was honestly nowhere else he'd rather be.
There'd been so much death. First with his Peter Parker, the one whose blood was on his hands, and then with Uncle Aaron, whose blood had pooled around him and sunk into the knees of his costume, even as he knew it was his fault his uncle was dead, his uncle's blood intermingling with the blood of Peter on his hands. It was his fault his Uncle had taken a bullet. His fault that Peter Parker was dead. And now there was Curt Connors, an unknown man who had been transformed into a monster and ate his family and was finally put out of his own misery by Pete.
And then there was Pete himself, whose black blood had covered his floor, stained his mother's hands, and was imbedded in his mind.
Pete, who Miles couldn't stop seeing in his mind's eye as a dead body on the ground, bleeding out from a bullet lodged in his brain that had come from his own gun. It was too much. There was too much, too fast. He felt a bit like he was drowning, the only thing keeping him afloat his dad's arms wrapped around him.
"It's alright, Miles," his dad whispered against the side of his head. "It's going to be alright."
His mother walked past them as she came back from the bathroom after doing a quick change, walking to where he knew his parents kept their records, and the laundry hamper where she threw in her dirtied pajamas. A moment later a soft song began playing, one of Selena's, the sound the background to a large part of his childhood, and the final thing needed to begin to ground him.
The upbeat rhythm felt like warmth and reminded him to hope. It fought the panic and the twist in his heart, and he found himself beginning to relax. Pete had already taken the first leap, he wasn't dead yet, and Miles refused to let him fall, even if Pete thought that Miles was weak. Miles could do this. They all could. His dad sat on the foot of the bed, his mom joining them a moment later.
Leap of faith, leap of faith. One giant leap at a time. It would be okay.
"What are we going to do?" his dad asked softly, his voice rumbling in his chest and consequentially through Miles body. It also rolled him right back into worry.
"We're going to do what we said," his mom responded, and her voice was firm, igniting yet another small spark of hope.
"Rio…" his dad started softly, looking at her, and consequentially extinguishing that spark without remorse. "It's…different now."
"Por qué, porque él es suicida?" his mom asked, and Miles flinched into his father. There was something about hearing it spelled out that was so…violent. It felt like a punch. His dad hushed him.
"No, because he killed…" his dad sighed heavily. "How do we know that that's the only person that he's killed? How do we know that…?" Miles closed his eyes, waiting for the talk of how it wasn't safe, and that they should throw Pete out, that it was a mistake. "I just want you both to be safe," he breathed out instead, and Miles felt his heart clench. "I love you both so much it would…it would kill me to know that something had happened to you because I didn't take it seriously. But…that's the whole reason that Pete is suicidal, and I don't know…" his dad heaved another sigh. "They lied to us, Rio."
Miles stiffened and his dad felt it, immediately pushing him back slightly to look at his face.
"Miles…" his dad whispered, the realization overtaking his face in what almost seemed like slow-motion. "You lied to us?"
Miles felt the tears coming down his face for what felt like the hundredth time that night. "I'm sorry," he croaked. "Pete shot him, and I…he needed help. I told them to lie, I told them…I told them that we'd wait until we could hear why Pete had done it." He sniffed. "It wasn't all a lie. The only thing that was omitted was the fact that Pete shot someone, that they couldn't take the Lizard down in time and he was gonna…he was going to kill Gwen if Pete didn't shoot him. He did protect me, and he did get hurt because of it, but…he shot the lizard, and I was scared."
"Scared of what?" his dad asked him gently, and Miles swallowed.
"You hate Spider-Man," Miles responded softly.
His dad's eyes widened, before his face crumbled in something like grief. "Oh, Miles…did you really think that I'd turn them away before they got help?" He closed his eyes, heaving a breath in through his nose, and Miles felt guilt creep up on him again, strangling his throat. "I don't like Spider-Man," his dad finally said, staring Miles in the eye. "But that isn't enough for me to want to let him die." His dad closed his eyes. "Especially not when he's just…" His dad rubbed between his eyes with his other hand, pinching the bridge of his nose. "God, what a mess."
"Your father wouldn't be able to turn them away if he tried, mijo," his mom said, rubbing her hand up Miles' back, and his dad snorted with aborted laughter. "They're my patients now, and that means that we're going to take care of them."
"Even with all of this, Rio?" his dad asked, looking up at her. "Even with everything that they're bringing with them?"
"Especialmente con todo estés," his mom responded, and her fingers ran along his dad's cheek. "We don't run from things, and I absolutely refuse to start now," she said, her voice firm. "They need our help. I'm not going to be the one that turns them away. Not after all that we said."
"But we didn't know everything…"
"We knew what was needed. We knew that they saved our son, and we knew that they needed our help." She paused. "They all still need our help, some more than others. I'm not going to refuse them. Lo eres?"
His dad was quiet for a moment, before finally letting out a soft sigh, and giving her a small smile. "We don't run from things," he finally parroted, and his smile turned warm. His mom kissed his dad, making Miles roll his eyes, but it made his heart warm. It was going to be okay. They'd all be okay.
"We're going to let them stay the night," his mom said. "And we're also going to open our home to Pete whenever he needs it."
His dad blinked. "What? But…" he shook his head. "But Rio…"
"No. No, 'But Rio's, no nada.," she parroted, doing such a ridiculous interpretation of his dad's voice that it made Miles stifle a laugh. "We're doing it and that's final," she frowned. "Even if he won't take us up on it, we are going to make the offer." Miles felt that small bud of warmth start to grow, smiling up at his mom.
"But I'm sure he's got somewhere else he can go…?" his dad started, his eyes slightly pleading.
"The other Spiders might offer him their own homes, too, but I have no doubt that he's alone in his own universe, Jeff," his mom responded, and her eyes were so intense, so sure, and Miles felt it in his heart that it was true, too. His dad seemed to crumble slightly, looking away. He knew it was true, as well. "Did you see his hair, the way it was cut? That is not the haircut of a man who expects to be seen without his mask, which means he has no allies in his world that know about who he is. No tiene a nada de ir." His dad crumbled slightly further, frowning at the ground, and Miles felt his heart soar. "And his weight, Jeff," his mom pushed again, twisting the invisible knife in a way that made his dad flinch. "He's probably a meal away from starving! Hell, he probably already is starving. We should feed him. We should feed them. Vamos a alimentar ellos. We have plenty, we aren't hurting for money, with Miles going to Vision Academy on a scholarship that covers his books and his uniform we're more financially secure than we've ever been!" She waved her hands wide, before leaning forward before his dad, her hands on her bent knees and a smile on her face. "We're going to do this, you might as well just accept it." She patted his cheek twice, and her smile was bright.
His dad looked as amazed as Miles felt. "Was this a conference or a warning?" his dad finally asked. His mom kissed him again.
"Los dos," she smiled at him, and then looked to Miles. "Mijo, Me alegra que fueras honesto." She kissed his forehead. "I'm so proud of you, too. I'm not proud of you for lying, though I understand where the fear was coming from, I want you to know that you don't have to hide anything from your father or me."
"Your mom's right," his dad said finally, looking down at him. "I know that…I know that things have been strained between us at times, but I just…I want you to know that I'll always love you, Miles. And I don't…I don't want you to be afraid of what I'll do to the point that you're willing to lie to me. I want you to be able to trust me and if you…if you feel like you can't do that right now…" his dad trailed off. "Oh, Miles, do you at least trust me enough to know that I love you?"
Miles clung to his dad tighter, throwing himself against him, and squeezing as tightly as he could. "I do," he croaked, "I do, and I love you too, and I'm so sorry I lied, I just…I was so scared. He was bleeding, and it was there, and I just…Peni was able to figure out what was wrong with him, but they had nowhere to go, and I thought…" he hiccupped. "I'm sorry. I love you, too, and I know you love me. I was just so scared it was all happening so fast, and…" he trailed off in frustration.
"It's alright," his dad whispered, and held onto him tightly as well, pressing another kiss to his temple. "It's alright. I understand. Fear can get a hold of people in ways no one expects. We have training specifically for learning how to deal with the consequences of fear, it's part of our training as a police officer, Miles, so I definitely understand how fear can make people do things they'd otherwise regret. It's alright."
"I'm still sorry," Miles said softly.
"And I forgive you," his dad responded gently, smiling at him softly. "Clean slate, Miles. Clean slate."
"Thanks dad," Miles sniffed, basking in his dad's hold for just a little longer, before finally pushing back, and sliding off the bed to stand on the floor next to his mom, who immediately pulled into a warm hug.
"I'll always love you, mijo," his mom whispered. "You did good today. Now what do you think they'd want first, sleep or food?"
Miles was quiet for a moment, pondering, but he knew what he wanted. It had been a draining time, emotions running so high he had felt them pounding in his throat. Pete had been hit into a wall and woken up with a nightmare… The others were running on about as much sleep as he was.
"Sleep," Miles decided, "but we could just ask them."
"That's a good idea, I was mainly asking to get you to admit that you needed to sleep, first," his mom kissed his forehead, a smile in her voice, and Miles protested softly, but broke into a yawn a second later. "Go to bed mijo, we'll make sure they sleep."
"I want to say goodnight, first," Miles compromised. His mom gave a slight hum, before nodding.
"Alright," she agreed, and took his dad's hands in her own. She leaned back, making a show of trying to pull his dad to his feet, and Miles laughed, watching as she scrunched her face up exaggeratedly, and his dad grinned back. Finally, he allowed himself to be tugged to his feet, and his mom made a few flexing poses, before leading them both out the door.
They found the Spiders waiting patiently, gathered in a circle around Pete, who looked a bit like he was about to fall over. They had changed, too, the pajamas that Porker had pulled out of nowhere seeming to fit them better, and their old clothes put in a pile, small patches of black on them, but Pete still had on that blood-stained coat. Judging by the talk, they were trying to explain the Goober to him, and Pete was…getting it?
"So, it works like a typewriter crossed with a telegraph then? Only it's super small?" Pete asked, indicating the holographic screen that rose above the watch, projected onto thin air. Peni had sent a few texts to him, so he could see what they looked like and how to access them.
"What are those?" Peni asked, her tone indecipherable, her expression carefully blank. Miles felt like he understood what she was feeling. A hole was opening up in his own gut, filled with a mixture of guilt and anxiety. They hadn't tried to contact Pete because they didn't think he would understand what they had given him. They had thought that the idea of a way to communicate instantly, of typing something in and sending it would be such a foreign concept that he wouldn't understand it. He'd already connected it to something in his own time, and as Pete finally began to explain it, Miles felt himself want to sink into the floor.
He couldn't imagine how Peni was feeling.
"You use a typewriter to write letters on, it's an…well I guess it must be old to you guys, but they've only just started making small models that are reasonably cheap where I'm from. A telegraph is a way to send long-distance communication. It's done through wires, and can either be coded, or in letter format." He frowned slightly. "And you can choose who to send things to here?" He indicated the contacts list to the side of the display, and Peni nodded slowly. After a moment of hesitation Pete poked the name that read 'Peni' and typed, 'Hello, Peni.' into the keyboard before sending it. Peni's watch gave a ping right around the same time they noticed Miles and his family standing in the hallway.
"Oh, hello," Peni called out, her voice full of false-bravado, a strained smile on her mouth. "I was showing Pete some of the new features for the Goobers. We thought it would be good to actually be able to communicate outside of just pinging when we're free for interaction."
"That's probably a smart idea, you don't want to go jumping into things when you don't have any idea of what's going on in the other person's dimension," his dad said, frowning slightly. Miles was simultaneously extremely proud of how quickly his dad was getting used to the idea of them coming from multiple dimensions, and in absolute agony. The others looked about the same, but his dad seemed to take that as an indication that they hadn't thought of that and gave a soft tsk. "You guys gotta be more careful. You don't want to hurt anyone accidentally, do you?"
The silence was brittle.
"Actually, that reminds me, Peni…" Pete finally said, turning to her. "Can you somehow put something that's like a…I don't know, a 'do not disturb' warning? So, people know not to jump through, or even try to communicate during the times when the warning is up?"
Peni frowned in a mixture of thoughtfulness, and something that seemed slightly skeptical. Miles understood the feeling. That sounded a bit like running away to never show up again. His mom clapped her hands though, suddenly, brightly, and all attention turned to her.
"Whatever plans or tweaks you all want to make will have to wait until tomorrow," she said. "For now, I think it's about time everyone went back to sleep. It's been a long night, and I'm sure everyone's exhausted." At the sound of the word 'exhausted' a series of yawns broke out among the assembled Spiders. "You're all still welcome to stay here, we have some propositions that we'd like to make in the morning, but for now I think everyone should sleep."
There was a brief series of grumbled yawns and agreements and all of them started moving to regain pillows and blankets, but Pete stood in the middle of all of them, looking vaguely uncomfortable. Porker looked up at him with a slight frown, taking him in, before slapping a hand to his forehead.
"I'm sorry, Pete, I completely forgot to give you something to change into," Porker stood up and walked up to Pete. "Would you like something extra colorful?"
Pete paused for a moment, blinking at him. "Um…I'm okay with…whatever?" he said, his voice rising in an obvious question, and Porker grinned at him.
"Alright, bud, now hold still." He held both hands up, framing Pete in the square he formed between his index fingers and thumbs, twisting one way, and then another. Pete held still, looking vaguely confused, the coat he was wearing hung limply off his frame, his boots shifting slightly on the carpet. The bandages were peeking through the shadow of his coat which had been slung around his shoulders after Peter B had given it to him, and they stood out bright against all the black. Pete himself stood out, really.
After apparently taking all of the 'measurements' he needed, Porker reached into his pocket and whipped out a pair of long pants and a shirt, both an almost nauseating mixture of different shades of pinks and blues and greens and purples. Pete looked at them through his broken glasses with something like longing, but the longer he stared the more his eyes narrowed, until he finally shook his head, a gray cast starting to spread across his cheeks.
"I…I'm sorry, they are like…actually physically painful to look at," Pete managed, squinting at them.
"You know what? Same," Porker waved them like a magician pulling a magic-trick, and they vanished. The next ones he pulled out were a much tamer pair, looking a bit more like the ones the rest of the Spiders were wearing, only the cartoon pigs and spiders were little multicolored flecks of color, still colorful, but not as violent.
Porker eyed the pants Pete was wearing then, obviously considering the fact that there might be blood hidden in the fabric and tried to hide the fact that he pulled out a pair of boxers as well, stuffing them in with the pants, but Porker ran on cartoon logic and it was a lot more obvious than it needed to be. Miles stifled a laugh for Pete's sake, that gray cast spreading a bit further, even as Gwen and Peni looked away pointedly, trying to spare him some dignity. At the same time as all of this, Pete looked a good deal more pleased with the pajamas he was given. He still hesitated for a moment before Porker gave them a further little shake, beaming proudly.
"Come on, you gotta change, Pete, you're covered in blood still, and sweat. That's not good to sleep in," Porker said. Pete hesitated a little longer, his expression shifting as he realized that the coat would have to go.
"Hold on, let me get a bag for you to put that in," his mom said, walking towards the kitchen.
"If you're bringing a plastic bag, can you bring another one?" Peter B called out, Rio flashing him a brief thumbs-up. When she returned, she was carrying two plastic bags from the kitchen. She handed one bag to Peter B before holding the other one out to Pete expectantly.
Pete hesitated for a moment, before finally shrugging his coat off his shoulders where he had kept it since Peter B had given it to him. The stiffness in his movements was unexpected, though as the coat slid off his shoulders and into his waiting hands, it revealed what had been hiding underneath, and Miles choked back a gasp.
Pete's skin beneath the coat was a patchwork of gray and black. It crept up the gash along his ribs, black blooming under the bandage to flower into shades of ash that attempted to wrap itself around his ribs. Peni, who was standing just behind Pete gave a sharp inhale at the sight of his back, putting her hands to her mouth in horror. When Pete turned to look at her, Miles saw why. If he had thought his front was a mottled mess, his back was worse. Trailing up his neck and down past the waistline of his pants, the mottled mixture of black and gray had taken up almost every inch of white skin.
Miles was so tired.
Rio was temporarily struck speechless before she breathed out a very vehement, very horrified, "Chingado." Her son gave a very loud and very horrified gasp, and even Peter B jerked his head back slightly, but Rio was entirely too focused on what she was seeing in front of her.
Bruising of the type she was seeing now would have appeared almost instantly. When she had initially examined Pete there had been evidence of discoloration running up the lacerations on his chest, but there had been no sign of anything that would have caused the discoloration across his back. The points where his ribs had been cracked were along the front of his ribcage, according to the information Peni had given to her. The breaks were located close to the costal cartilage, something she had assumed came from the initial hit, but this spoke to more than just the claws.
She had initially thought that the hit had caused him to fall and crack his head, this was painting a picture of something very different happening, and definitely a whole lot more violent.
"Que mierda era pasando?" Rio barked out, even as Pete reached out to put the coat into the bag, she was still holding out for him. He looked up at her sharply at the sound, but it was obvious he either didn't know what she was asking, or he just didn't want to answer. She remained holding out the bag, watched the stiffness in his movements, took in the tight expression, the sweat that was beading on his forehead at the way his arms reached up and out, and almost started swearing more.
Rio had been running on a distinct lack of sleep, the hospital having needed all hands-on deck recently due to staffing shortages. They had finally told her to go home, to take the day off tomorrow, which she thought was now technically today, because she had been burning the candle at both ends and had gotten to the point where she had needed a break. She had gotten almost an hour of sleep before she had woken up in a sweat after realizing she hadn't checked Pete's head. To round out the hellscape that had been her last few hours, she'd also been blindsided by a story that would make her weep should she give it more thought, and a deep desire to make sure Miles was okay.
Her mijo had taken what Pete had said hard, which was something he had had every right to, and she had wanted to be sure that he was coping. The cumulation of all of this was the fact that Rio was Tired, and she had also taken more of Peni's information as Law than she had realized. It was making her sloppy and she hated it, because that left Pete in this situation where he was obviously in pain, and had been for a while now, and she hadn't even realized. She should have, she really should have, but she was also used to seeing Spider-Man on the news. She had seen him thrown through things and into things and still get back up. The idea of aftermath had only just recently been introduced, and it had taken this moment to make her really realize how truly ugly the work of a vigilante could be.
"Curt hit him into a brick wall," Peter B responded, looking a good deal less horrified than he should have. He almost looked as though it was expected. This made Rio intensely angry.
"Into a wall?" Rio parroted, her voice cracking on the last word.
"Ten feet away," Peter B expanded easily. Rio wanted to strangle him. "I wondered when those would show up." He addressed Pete specifically then, his mouth pulled into a sympathetic grimace. "Looks rough, man. I got thrown through an entire apartment building once and I think I looked about the same. The adrenaline drop-off was nasty."
"Think I'm feeling that right about now," Pete managed, his voice tight, which made sense, really. Pete had woken up in a panic, found himself surrounded by people he had never seen before, and was then thrust directly into something where he admitted to things that she had no doubt had never planned on. Adrenaline was definitely a part of that mix. Pete looked like he couldn't decide whether to curl up on the ground or not move at all, his arms moving up towards his chest as though wanting to hug his ribs.
She had hugged him.
Rio pointed at Peter B, "You, keep talking while I get some pain medication, what do I need to know about your healing rates? Why didn't the bruising show up earlier?" She gestured for him to follow her as she dropped the bag holding Pete's coat onto the ground and went to the first aid kit that they kept in the bathroom to grab some of her extra-strength Motrin tablets. Her husband walked past her purposefully to the kitchen, likely to grab some toast and water to make sure that the strong pain medication didn't hurt Pete's stomach.
She loved him, always in sync with what she needed.
"One thing that's kind of odd, but really useful about the healing thing is that if there's a major injury our powers will work on stabilizing that first," Peter B explained. "Once that's taken care of the rest of the injuries will basically just…emerge, I guess is the best way to put it." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking a bit sheepish. "I've been waiting for the bruising, honestly."
"You didn't think to mention it?" Rio pressed. Peter B blinked, looked at Pete, and then looked back at her.
"I didn't," he answered. "I didn't think about it, sorry. I'm not used to people that aren't already familiar with the crazy healing thing, yet, or well…actually telling people about it. It's just kind of a given. You're probably going to want to give him five of those, just so you know. The powers came with a wickedly fast metabolism that just burns through the damn things."
"Five?" Rio gasped, looking at him, the pill bottle in her hand shaking with a mixture of nerves and anger.
"Yup," Peter B responded, popping the p. He frowned slightly. "Which reminds me," he turned to the other Spiders, pointing at them, "if you ever get the idea that you want to try and eat away your depression, do not do it. The hyper-metabolism traps you in this stupid cycle of constantly being hungry to the point where when you finally get your life back together and want to start losing weight, it becomes a real problem."
"That bites, man," Porker said emphatically, frowning at him. The kids were also looking at Peter B with something bordering sympathy then, but Peter B just shrugged.
That was a whole other can of worms. Spider-Man depressed? What was happening anymore? To counterbalance her confusion, though, was the fact that the two senior-most Spiders weren't acting like they were worried about what had happened to Pete at all, instead acting as though it was normal, which helped calm Rio down a good deal. The kids looked horrified, but there was no doubt that they hadn't been Spider-People for nearly the same length as the other two. Peni, in particular, looked gutted, and she would have to remember to talk to her later, but there was still so much to do in order to take care of Pete now. It obviously wasn't her fault, Peni had done the best she could with what she had, and Rio had done the same. She still felt on edge, she hated the idea that Pete had been in pain and she hadn't done anything to help him, but what was done was done.
She'd be able to fix it now.
"Here," Jeff said as he returned from the kitchen, but instead of just the buttered toast that Rio was expecting, he carried an assortment of other things. Leftover Chinese still in its takeout box with steam rising from it – obviously having taken a quick turn in the microwave, an orange, and the expected toast.
She could have kissed him.
Pete stared at what Jeff was holding in his arms with a wide-eyed look of shock. The longing was also expected, his fingers trembling slightly. He looked up at her husband then with confusion on his features, that soon turned to outright denial. He started shaking his head, but her husband opened his mouth before Pete did.
"Nope, whatever you're going to say the answer is 'you are going to eat this.' We've got plenty to spare, we aren't hurting for money or food, and you need it. We aren't living in the Great Depression. The economy might not be perfect, but it definitely isn't like it is where you're from, and we have plenty to spare." Jeff held out the orange with a smirk. "Orange."
Pete stared at the orange with wide eyes, his face crumpling slightly.
"Gotta eat to heal faster anyway," Peter B added when Pete said nothing else, looking at Pete with eyes that were practically screaming 'take the food, or else.'
"But…" Pete started, but he was obviously breaking down faster than Rio had expected. A mix of pain and exhaustion, probably.
"Everyone else has already eaten. I'm guessing the only one that hasn't is you," her husband finally followed up with a shrug, and Rio walked over, kissing her husband on his jaw with a grin.
"I know my family has," she looked at the rest with a raised eyebrow. "Anyone else hungry?"
The chorus of denials and affirmations that they'd also already eaten eventually made Pete give a little nod of acceptance, his stomach giving a very audible growl. Jeff gave him a small, but definitely encouraging smile, and gestured for him to sit on the couch. Pete did and Jeff handed him the takeout box first. "You ever used chopsticks before?"
"No," Pete answered, shaking his head.
"Oh! I'll teach you!" Peni called out, holding her hand up high, but paused as Jeff held out the fork he was also holding, Pete taking it without question. "Maybe later, though." Her voice trailed off slightly as Pete plunged the fork into the box and brought the forkful of what looked like sesame chicken to his mouth. Jeff gave her a smile and a small wink.
"You'll get your chance, sometime, promise," Jeff said. "For now, let's just let him use a fork so we can get some food in him quickly before he takes that Motrin."
Peni's disappointment vanished immediately, hidden behind a serious look and a sharp nod of agreement. Jeff's smile pulled wider.
Rio loved her husband.
"Alright, Pete, as soon as you finish eating, I want you to take these," Rio said, counting out five pills, shooting one last look at Peter B that screamed 'are you sure?' at his nod, she put them on the coffee table next to the couch. Pete paused in his frankly impressive display of inhaling the leftover takeout to stare at the pills lying there innocently and sneer.
"How about you don't give me any of whatever the hell that stuff is," Pete said, looking at the Motrin as though it was going to bite him, "and you back the hell off."
The venom was unexpected. Rio froze for a moment, staring at him with wide eyes, the rest of them gaining that slight look of shock as well. What on earth had caused that kind of reaction? She blinked for a moment, watching Jeff as he stiffened probably ready to unload on him for being ungrateful, but then she froze.
"What year are you from exactly?" she asked, her husband softening at the sound of her voice. He could tell that she had a theory, had a thought, and he was patient enough to let her follow it through. She had remembered something from her student days, a fact hammered into her brain until she could recite it without thinking about it.
Medicine was a practice, her professor had drilled into them.
You must always be willing to search for more information and especially be open to new methods of pain relief or other assistance when they come. Things that you might prescribe all the time might become obsolete within your lifetime and you always had to be willing to accept that and move on. There was one particular medicinal practice in particular that her professor had pointed them to as a demonstration of this, and she had a very grim idea that she knew precisely why Pete was so wary of the idea of taking any form of pain medication.
"…1933," Pete responded finally, stiffly, and that fit. 1933 was on the cusp of a lot of medical advances and realizations, as well as a few Very Big Changes.
"Oh, sweetie…" she started softly. "Who had a prescription in your family?"
"…My uncle," Pete managed. "He was injured in the war. He was on it still when I was eight, when they finally banned it. I got to watch them cut off what they gave him and see what happened when they did. I ain't interested."
"This isn't addictive, sweetie, Yo prometo," Rio said softly. "It doesn't bond with the brain. I can walk you through the ingredients so you know what you're taking if it will help?" she prompted.
Pete stared at her for a moment, his eyes narrowed slightly, before he gave a final jerky nod. Rio smiled at him and peeled the wrapper away from the bottle so she could get to the ingredients list, running through a brief explanation of each and what it did patiently. Pete continued eating as she pointed out what everything was, but it was clear that he was starting to sag the longer that it took to explain what everything was, but she kept herself steady. Forcing him to take the pills without explaining what they did and the fact that it wouldn't cause him any issues would be added stress that he really didn't need, and honestly, Pete had every right to be suspicious.
Medicine had come so far in such a short period of time. 85 years separated them now from Pete's time and in those 85 years so much had been done, so much had been changed. Vaccinations to things that would ravage the people of Pete's time, medicines had been created that usually weren't worse than the things that they were trying to cure. Side-effects may include were often just that, may include, insurance and pharmaceutical companies trying to save their ass should just that slightest thing go wrong, no matter how small the chance. It wasn't anything like what Pete would have had prescribed to him, or to his family. And so, she was patient, explained everything as well as she could, and waited for acknowledgement before she proceeded. Pete was a quick study, his eyes sharp, even with the agony he would undoubtedly be in.
What he would have gone through in order to be able to keep that clarity, even with the pain he was in, was something she refused to contemplate. That was better left for morning when she could take steps to act on this realization humming in her skull.
"What did they give him?" Peter B finally asked after she had talked him down, and Pete had apologized profusely to all of them for his vehemence and gained various assurances that it was okay, that they understood. "Uncle Ben, what did they give him?"
"Heroin," Pete answered blandly, turning dark-ringed eyes his way after finishing the water. Peter B and the rest not in the know choked. "It was restricted in 1914, but they didn't ban it completely until 1924. He was forced to go cold-turkey. It was…up there with one of the most frightening things I've ever seen, and I've seen a lot." He gave a brief scoff. "Funny how it goes, really. He survived the Great War, a heroin addiction, and then wound up getting eaten." He was peeling the orange as he said this, frowning down at it with disgust on his face. "Funny how it goes."
"It was given out as a prescription?" Miles managed, her mijo's voice high pitched and horrified. The rest of Pete's words hung heavy between them, but it was obvious what had caught most of their attention, as Miles' words led to several horrified expressions.
"Lo fue," Rio confirmed for Pete when he didn't move. "Medicina cambió mucho, mijo. Things that used to be considered worth it for the temporary effects were soon pulled for their long-term effects." Rio paused, before pointing at Pete sternly as she remembered something else critical. "Smoking does not cure asthma or do anything to prevent coughing. It causes cancer, and also leads to a lot of other long-term effects that are definitely not wanted."
"Can't afford it anyway," Pete responded with a slight lift of his shoulders, his skin blanching at the movement. That trembling which she had only just now realized was running through his limbs was growing stronger. He had eaten, and taken the pills, but he was still covered in blood, and he was still in obvious pain.
"You need help getting clean…" she said, mostly to herself, but Pete immediately shook his head.
"I'm not comfortable with that…" he said stiffly.
"If you need help, you can ask me," Peter B returned immediately, swooping in before Rio could think of anything to say. It was a perfect solution, really, and Pete seemed to agree, though it didn't look like he was happy with it. "Which reminds me…" Peter B took the empty bag that Rio had brought that he was still holding, and carefully split it down the middle. He guided Pete's arm through one of the handles gently, effectively giving the bag an anchor point in-line with the bandages on his chest, before using a bit of webbing to adhere it over the bandage, effectively protecting it from water. It was clever. It also spoke of something that he needed to do often, likely without any help.
Thrown through an entire apartment building, she remembered, her mouth pulled into a thin line. These Spiders were going to give her an aneurism.
Peter B then took the small pile of clothes that Porker was still holding patiently and gestured for Pete to follow him to the bathroom. Rio was able to hear a brief discussion on how things worked, followed by the sound of the water running. Peter B left the bathroom finally, pressing his back against the door, his head tilted up, waiting. He had the rest of Pete's clothes in the bag that held his coat she saw, and Miles immediately took it, running to the laundry room to run it through, as well as the other clothes from the Spiders.
"Gracias," she called out softly after patting Miles' back and thanking him with a kiss when he returned. Peter B blinked, before grinning at her.
"De nada," he responded easily, giving a little shrug. "Thank you for being so patient, and…willing to help."
"I meant it, Peter Benjamin Parker," Rio said, her chin tilting up. "You all come to me." She paused. "Does he have anyone?" she asked softly, her eyes indicating the bathroom.
"He has us," Porker said, frowning, standing up as straight as he could, the others adopting similar stances. Peter B grinned at them, before inclining his head to her.
"Yup," he answered softly. "I think he's got a few people."
Rio nodded slowly, sighing. "He'll be out of the bathroom, soon," she said softly, turning to the others. "I think it's time to at least start to pile in."
The others nodded, finally pulling blankets and pillows together, collapsing in a pile as Peter B was finally called into the bathroom. Rio busied herself by getting glasses of water, placing them on the coffee table that had been pushed out of the way, and finally pressed a kiss to her husband's cheek when he returned from throwing away all of the trash, and taking care of the glass. Jeff smiled at her gently and kissed her forehead. Miles wandered back over to them after a moment, stifling a yawn.
Miles had been so brave, her little mijo. She was so proud of him. Peter B and Pete finally left the bathroom, Pete dressed in those pajamas with his truly lamentable hair sticking up at every angle. She needed to get that cut, somehow. Pete was being carried in the other's arms without issue, even with all the awkwardly long limbs.
Pete was almost boneless, slumped against Peter B, though he hesitated when Peter B carried him to the couch. Pete whispered something to Peter B, and he blinked, before looking back at Jeff and Rio.
"Bud likes sleeping up a bit higher, and he doesn't want to accidentally hurt anyone if they get too close in the night, do you mind if we use a little webbing in one of the corners? It's actually a lot softer on the ribs," he added.
It was a surprising request, and Pete wouldn't look at them as it was made, but after a shared glance with Jeff, she shrugged.
"Will you clean it up?" Jeff asked, which was a good question in all honesty.
"That won't be a problem," Pete assured quietly, finally making eye-contact with her husband.
"Then I don't see why not." He indicated the corner with a slight wave of his hand.
"Sweet, okay, hold on." Peter B shifted Pete slightly, Pete holding on as well as he could as Peter B climbed them up into a corner, showing a bit more flexibility than she had expected out of him, as well as care. It was Pete that started forming a makeshift hammock out of the black webbing that came out of his own wrists as soon as Peter B brought them to the point where he could finally make it take shape, directing Peter B in certain ways so he could form it properly.
Porker walked forward underneath the webbing, frowning up at it with a practiced eye, before finally giving a very proud nod and a grin. "That's some good craftsmanship there, Pete. You've got a good handle on weaving."
Pete paused in the middle of connecting two strands, finally looking down at Porker with wide eyes. "…Thank you," he finally managed.
"Not a problem," Porker put his thumb up with a grin, and Pete ducked his head slightly before going back to his weaving. Peter B finally climbed onto the ceiling when it was finished, lowering the other into the hammock as gently as possible, before climbing back down the wall head-first, which was odd. Watching him flip onto his feet before he hit ground was more impressive than she wanted to admit. He grabbed a blanket and made his way to where Pete was positioned, before spreading it out gently on top of him.
"There you go, bud, sleep tight, call if you need anything." He whispered something else to him, maybe seeing if he was sure he wanted to be up there alone, but when Pete simply shook his head stubbornly and gave him a fierce glare, Peter B relaxed. "Alright," Peter B finally said softly.
Peter B dropped down, made his way back to the pile, flashed the small family a thumbs-up and a sideways grin, and then collapsed bonelessly among the other Spiders. Peni snuggled up to his side almost immediately, Gwen resting her head on his stomach, Porker curling up next to his thigh, and a blanket was thrown over top of them by her husband. Jeff gave them a slight smile, and a nod when Peter B gave him a brief grin at the sudden cries of protest that sounded, face splitting open in a yawn a second later.
"Goodnight," Jeff said, a sentiment echoed by her own voice, as well as her son's.
"G'night," came the slurred chorus. They fell asleep without further prompting. So, having taken care of the thing that Miles wanted most, he went back into his room, collapsing into his own bed after a kiss from both of them and their own chorus of 'goodnight.'
The morning would bring with it its own set of challenges, but at this point they were ready to face what would come. The Davis-Morales household ran from nothing.
They weren't going to start now.
Heroin - heroin about/illegal-heroin-and-united-states-law/
Medicine is cray - mentalfloss article/57983/9-terrifying-medical-treatments-1900-and-their-safer-modern-versions
Flu- uploads/original/7/72524/3421805-2655467372-spide. jpg
God. I love comics. ...Not so much medicine in the 30s. But comics are good.