It was hours before anyone came home. Hours for Frankie to do nothing but stand in front of the mirror, examining the dry blood caking her fingers and ears and rubbing desperately around for a spider bite that was no longer there.

She'd shed her hoodie and blazer a while ago, leaving her in only her tattered Jaws t-shirt and ratty jeans. Cordelia had eventually wandered in, wrapping herself around Frankie's ankles. Her eyes roamed over her arms, not noticing anything new. Still muscular, something she'd always been a little proud of. Nothing that would justify being able to literally rip a door handle off in the nurse's office.

Without warning, Frankie keeled over at the sudden, piercing sound of the front door hinges squeaking open. Her hands flew down to the edges of the sink, gripping it hard to keep herself up off the ground. With the slam of it shutting, the noise stopped and the teen breathed hard, trying to soothe the ache in her skull. Blinking open her eyes, her gaze fell on something that made her empty stomach drop.

With a shuddering breath, Frankie unclenched her hands from the edges of the sink to see the porcelain cracked and ruined where she'd gripped it.

"Frankie?"

She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of her brother's voice. She pulled her hand back against her chest like the sink burned her. Thinking quickly, Frankie grabbed the nearest towel and threw it over the cracked sink.

"Y-yeah!" she yelled back, trying to adjust the towel to cover everything.

"You made it home?" he asked through the door, which Frankie thanked whatever was out there she had the good sense to close.

"Totally," she squeaked, hands shaking, "Mr. Parker gave me a lift."

"Why did you need a lift?" Charlie inquired, the door straining under the weight of him clearly leaning on it from the other side, "Did something happen?"

"Just…"

Shit. Shit, what did she say? It wasn't like the nurse wag going to call him anytime soon, but there were very few reasons for her to call him for a ride home. What the hell would cover her right now?

"Cramps!"

Oh, fuck.

"What?" her brother choked, the floor squeaking beneath him, "You- uh, you needed a ride home for that?"

Frankie's eyes squeezed shut, her hand going up to her head about to slap herself for being so stupid. "They were… really bad cramps. Super bad. Which is why I'm… in here."

"Oh," he said, voice distant and confused, "Well… I'm glad you're okay?"

"Thanks!" she piped, hands knotted in her hair and breath still difficult, "I'm just gonna- uh, finish up."

"Yup- yeah, you do that," he stumbled over his words, "I'm gonna… yeah."

They left it at that. Shakily, Frankie tried to cover up whatever the hell she'd done to the sink before scrubbing away the remainder of the dried up blood on her cheeks and between her fingers. It all swirled down the sink in a murky red mix before she dried her face and made her way out of the bathroom. Her feet felt unsteady as she did, the light in the room disorienting.

Her brother stood in the kitchen at the fridge, donning clothes that he definitely hadn't worn to lacrosse. They were too casual. A few grocery bags were littered across the counter, the food transferred into the fridge. He poked his head up at the sound of her footsteps and pressed his lips together into a frown.

"So…" he drawled, shoving a handful of deli turkey into his mouth, "You feeling better?"

"You got groceries?" Frankie diverted, nodding towards the stray plastic bags.

"Uh, yeah," he shrugged, swallowing the food in his mouth, "Not like dad's gonna do it."

The candy haired girl couldn't help but nod her head. She hadn't actually seen her father in almost four days. He'd been at the office, or wherever the hell he always disappeared to. It really didn't matter in the long run. He wasn't there and there hadn't been food in the fridge for two days.

"Guess he was busy," the blonde shrugged weakly, keeping her hands behind her hips in case there was any blood between her nails, "I didn't know you had practice today."

Charlie's eyes flicked up to her, lips pressed together and jaw tight. "Yeah. Everyday, dumbass."

"For six hours?" Frankie shot back, giving him a scowl.

Her brother scowled right back, throwing the turkey back into the fridge. "Didn't know you timed me."

Rolling her eyes, Frankie crossed her arms and shuffled her feet beneath her. Her bad foot pulled slightly, making her lips press hard together. Her brother, the asshole, noticed and nodded towards her foot.

"Hurting again?" he mumbled, rifling through his backpack.

The teenage girl waved him off, taking the weight off her right foot. "If I'm not limping, I'm fine."

Charlie looked at her, accepting whatever she'd said and pulling out his homework and spreading it across the counter. "You haven't limped in years. Quit bitching."

"Hey," the teenage girl piped, eyes squinting against the harsh brightness of the room that didn't seem to bother her brother, "I was actually gonna go on a quick walk. Y'know, get fresh air. Try and alleviate the- the cramps."

Her brother didn't even look up from his textbook. "There's no fresh air in Queens."

"Eat shit, Charlie," she bit back, snatching an old hoodie off of a chair next to her along with a pair of sunglasses, "I'll see you whenever."

Not even waiting for a response, Frankie heard her feet reverberate against the floor as she stomped out of the apartment. Slamming the door behind her- again, she should really stop slamming stuff, although the pain was a little duller- the teen threw on the hoodie as she walked towards the elevator. As the doors slid open and she stepped inside, she felt an old beanie in her pocket. She pulled it out, seeing the faded red fabric bunch up in her fist. The material was thick, and Frankie wondered if maybe it would muffle all the noise. Without thinking too hard, she shoved the thing over her hair and over her ears.

It did help, just barely.

Stepping out of the elevator, the teen peered around the corner to make sure Perry wasn't there. She really didn't have the energy to smile and converse and whatever people did so easily. What if he saw the blood? What if he asked too many questions, and she was sent to the hospital, and they cut her open-

She quickly shook her head. Now was not the time to freak out.

Confident that another person was manning the desk, Frankie ducked her head and walked as quickly as she could out of the lobby and into the streets. Once again, the sounds of the world outside the lobby hit her like a ton of bricks, practically breaking her eardrums. She stumbled back, pressing her hands to her ears and squeezing her eyes shut. Quickly, she reached into her pocket again and dug out the sunglasses before shoving them over her eyes.

Carefully, she opened her eyes to see that the brightness had dimmed just enough to make it bearable. She sighed, relief flooding through her as she looked around to see if there was anyone she knew around. As far as she could tell, no one was. Good.

Taking one last look, Frankie stumbled over to the alley behind the apartment building. She kept counting her steps in, something to keep herself calm.

The place was empty and smelled like piss, populated only by a large, greasy dumpster and cracked brick walls. It was a little quieter than out on the street, meaning no one was around. At least, she assumed. Coming to a stop in front of the dumpster, the girl felt her hands shaking as she stared at the dirty, thick metal in front of her.

"Okay…" she muttered, twisting her fingers together nervously, "Okay, it's- I'm fine. This is just a normal day with… bleeding ears and possible super strength. It's fine."

Her twisted fingers stilled as she kept looking at the dumpster. Her jaw tightened, untangling her fingers and pressing them into fists. "Okay, this is nothing. I'm just- I'm just gonna hit this… dumpster."

Breathing deeply to try and keep her hands from shaking, Frankie raised her right fist. She continued to mutter under her breath, her arm going up and down uncertainly until finally yelled out a strangled 'fuck!' and slammed her fist into the metal.

There was pain. Holy shit, there was pain.

"Oh my-" she choked out, pressing her fist into her chest, "Holy shit!"

Her knuckles throbbed, fingers stiff and stuck in a fist as she cradled it deep into her chest. The grime and sticky slime smeared over her hand. Her breath rattled in her lungs as she tried to breathe through the pain of it. However, as she looked up, what she was probably even scarier.

At eye level, pressed deep into the grimy metal was a dent. Not just a cool, I might be stronger than I look dent. The thing was deep, the metal warped and thin against the strain. Eyes wide, Frankie took a careful step forward. Lifting her already swelling fist, she slowly put it in the hole to see that it went past her wrist, far too deep to be… human.

"What the fuck?"

Her head whipped around, making sure no one was around. She didn't care that she hadn't heard anyone approach, there was no way she wasn't going to be sure no one could see her.

Confident that no one had come near, Frankie retracted her hand from the dent and stepped around the dumpster to stand in front of the cracked and graffitied brick wall behind it. She didn't care if it would hurt, she had to know what the fuck she could do. Lifting her swollen fist once again- this time shielded by the sleeve of her hoodie- she slammed it into the brick with a barely contained cry.

She could feel her skin split as her knuckles went through the red brick, the fabric barely saving her from ripping it all off. Pain erupted all the way up to her wrist. She didn't even give herself time to think about how much it hurt as she pulled her fist out of the wall, the skin on the ends of her fingers shredding off as she did.

"Fuck!" she yelled, cradling her bleeding hand as she stared at the crumbed hole in the wall.

"This is…" she whispered, letting her grip on her wrist loosen as she tried to breathe normally, "This can't be real."

Having to tear her eyes away from the damage she'd done, Frankie looked down at her hand. The skin was shredded to hell, knuckles swollen and bright red. There was no doubt it would be bruised black. Sighing, she tugged the sleeve of her hoodie over her injured fist and looked out at the opening to the alley. Across the street was a run down pharmacy, definitely stocked with rubbing alcohol and bandages. Pressing the sunglasses further up her nose, she ducked out of the alley and across the street, into the dirty pharmacy.

The ring of the little bell above the door made Frankie want to punch through the plaster walls if she hadn't already ripped her hand apart. The cap was doing nothing to help. All it did was muffle the noise a little, but not enough to make it bearable.

"Hello and welcome to the store," a pimple faced, apathetic teen droned from behind the register, not even looking up.

"Leave me alone," Frankie mumbled back, shuffling into a random aisle.

"No problem," the guy muttered back, not even bothering to change facial expressions. She kinda respected that.

Just as she turned into the aisle, she was met with the last person she wanted to see right now.

Standing in the middle of the aisle, eyes glassy and trained on a display of different kinds of aspirin, Peter stood hunched over and barely alive. Frankie felt her lips press together and twist into a scowl. But something stopped her from snapping at him.

Something was off about the other boy. From this distance, she couldn't quite tell. He looked like he was wearing his middle school clothes, the pants too short and exposing his leg halfway up the calf. Peter trembled slightly, hand poking in and out as if he was afraid to grab hold of the bottle of off brand ibuprofen in front of him.

Unable to avoid the whole case of painkillers, Frankie shuffled over to the display beside the brown haired boy and reached out to grab the cheapest kind right in front of his face. The movement startled him, his wide eyes landing on her like a spooked deer.

"If you say anything above a whisper," she began to threaten him, eyes boring into his angrily through her sunglasses, "I will punch you directly in the dick."

Almost immediately, his face fell into an expression that matched her own. "Not today, Frankie."

"What did I say about the noise level?" she bit back, looking over the label of the pill bottle in her hand.

"I'm barely whispering," he grumbled, though it sounded like he was yelling in her ear, "Please go away."

"Not a problem, douche-nozzle," Frankie responded, annoyance clear in her voice.

She turned on her heel, but the light and noise combined with sudden movement made her dizzy. The aisle swirled around her, and she quickly grabbed onto one of the shelves to steady herself. Apparently, Peter noticed, too.

"You look like shit, by the way," he muttered, staying where he was but observing her distastefully, "You hungover or something?"

She turned her head, sending him a sickly sweet smile. "You really know how to make a girl feel special, Parker."

"Oh, just for you darling," he shot back, his smile just as sarcastic and venomous. He was right, of course. That was a look reserved especially for her.

Frankie scoffed, about to turn around when she saw something that made her mind snap in place. Peter lifted his hand to grab onto the same bottle she did, but she realized there was something missing.

There was no spider bite.

"Did…" the candy haired girl choked out, her breath falling out of her chest, "How's the bite?"

She saw his brows furrow, gaze turning towards her with a confusing stare. "Uh- what?"

"You got…" she stuttered, words suddenly evaporating on her tongue as she felt her whole face fall into a shocked expression, "Holy shit."

"Okay," Peter muttered, rubbing his forehead exasperatedly, "You're insane. Or on drugs. Please let me leave now."

He was about to step around her, but Frankie wasn't about to let him get away. Not now.

Without warning, she shot out her hand and grabbed hold of his arm and started dragging him towards the bathroom in the back corner of the store. The boy was dragged behind her, legs nearly falling out from underneath him as he struggled to readjust. His eyes went up to her, wild and unsure.

"What- what the hell are you-"

"Shut up, Parker," she bit, ripping open the door and throwing him inside. He slammed into the far wall as she turned and locked the door, keeping them both inside.

"Okay, what the hell is-"

She spun around, pulling off her sunglasses and staring him right in the eyes. "Spider."

Peter's mouth suddenly clammed shut, face going paler than usual. "W-what?"

"You were bitten by a freaky looking spider two days ago," she explained, almost as if she were explaining it to a child. He didn't seem to mind so much, as he was more thrown by the fact that she was asking about it at all.

"I mean… yeah," he muttered unconvincingly, fingers twisted in the sleeves of his shirt nervously.

"Holy fucking shit."

Frankie felt her jaw fall open, her hands rising to cover her mouth as if that would stop her from looking like she's been slapped in the face by the boy in front of her. A boy, she just noticed, was not wearing his glasses.

"Why the fuck are you not wearing your glasses?" she asked, voice a little harsher than she'd intended.

"You're freaking me out," he ignored her, body tight and nervous.

"Okay then," she shrugged, pointing towards his hand, "Show me."

"Excuse-"

"Show me the bite," she clarified, keeping her eyes on him seriously.

"N-no!" he stammered, trying to step around her before she grabbed his arm again to keep her in place, "What's wrong with you?"

"So you're not gonna show me?" she simpered.

"No." he spat, still held in place and glaring down at her.

"Because you won't or because you can't?"

Peter's mouth flapped open and closed like he wasn't sure how to respond. As he seemed to try and find the right words to explain his way out of this, Frankie noticed something that should have slapped her in the face immediately. The fact that she was looking up at him.

"When did you get taller?" she questioned, realizing that she only came up to his chin.

His arms crossed over his chest, eyes refusing to meet hers. "When did you get shorter?"

"Okay, listen," she said quietly, looking up at him with what she hoped was earnestness, but was probably more panicked than anything else, "I'm only going to ask this once, and if- if I sound like a total freak, we're going to pretend this never happened. And if you tell anyone, I'm going to rip you apart limb from limb. Apparently, I can do that now."

Peter's mouth twisted up- she also noted his acne was gone, was hers?- and he snarled down at her. "Let me out right now-"

"Limb from fucking limb, Parker," she cut him off savagely, not able to keep the desperation out of her voice, "You got it?"

The brown haired boys face shifted, seemingly seeing that something was really wrong. Hell, he should know that she wouldn't willingly talk to him if it wasn't necessary. "Yes- yeah, I got it."

"Okay…" she sighed, finally letting go of his arm and holding her hands up carefully, "After you got bit, you got really sick, right?"

"Yes…" he responded, nodding carefully.

"And what happened after that?"

"I- I'm not sure how…" he stuttered, eyes darting around the grimy bathroom before landing on her hand, "What the hell happened to you?"

"Peter, I'm serious," she insisted, tugging her sleeve back up to cover her hand, "I'm not fucking with you or- or pulling some shit, okay? No airhorns, no jelly in your pencil bag- although, admittedly, that was hilarious. Just- just fucking tell me what happened after you passed out."

Peter's eyes widened, leaning back nervously. "How did you know I passed out? Were you stalking me or something?"

"Like I'm interested in the life and times of a boy getting slammed by the sudden urge to jack off," she spat at him, beginning to pace around the small space now that she knew he wasn't going to run out of the bathroom, "I know because… because that's when it started for me."

"You-" Peter gasped, his head ducking down to meet her eyes,"You got bitten too?"

"Yeah," she muttered, pointing at where there was supposed to be a huge bite, "Back of the neck after the field trip. Hurt like a bitch."

The other boy nodded slowly, seeming to remember how much it hurt. Then, like a thought suddenly entered his head, he snapped his eyes over to her. "Does that mean… does that mean you…"

"Some weird shit's going on," Frankie nodded, twisting her fingers nervously together, "And I'm betting it's not puberty. If it is, eighties movies lied to me."

"I'm guessing that's a safe bet," he conceded, mimicking her nervous posture, "So… so you can… it happened to you, too?"

Frankie's hand twitched, not really wanting to punch anything again. Her eyes raked over the room, looking for something she could break. Finally landing on something, the blonde reached over the sink, wrapping her hand around the faucet before jerking her wrist and ripping the metal from the appliance. The end was splintered and rough, sickly brown water spilling out from the hole. Holding up the broken appliance, she looked up at Peter to see his face ashen and jaw open wide with shock.

"I- what?" he stammered, hands lifting up like he wasn't sure quite what to do with them, "What the fuck?"

"What?" she asked, brows pulling together. "You can do this too, right?"

"Not exactly. But it seems like a serious problem for society that you can."

"You're telling me this shit isn't happening to you?"

Ripping off her cap, Frankie pulled back her greasy hair and pointed towards her ear. She could see in the mirror that it had started bleeding again, though not as heavily as it had before. She got her answer in the disgusted and strangely worried expression on Peter's face.

His mouth flew open, hands twitching up like he had the instinct to grab her face but bought better of it. "That- oh my god, are you okay?"

Frankie couldn't stop the scoff from escaping her lips. "Like you care."

"Of course I- I'm not a fucking monster, okay?" Peter's hands shoved into his jacket pocket, face annoyed and still a little concerned. "I care if your head if freaking bleeding."

"How…" she searched for a word, "Nice?"

He snorted, rolling his eyes a little. "I really worry about you, sometimes."

"Thanks for thinking of me, dick face."

"I retract my worry for you."

"Thank you, that's much better," Frankie simpered. Quickly, her face fell back into nervousness as she held up the handle of the sink. "So what the hell can you do if it's not all… this."

"I can… can you give me a boost?"

"A what?"

"Just, pick me up a little."

Thoroughly weirded out, Frankie didn't even have the energy to argue. She just wrapped her arms around Peter's middle and picked him up. He basically weighed nothing, though whether that was because he was the human equivalent of a green bean or because of her newfound freakshow talent, she had no idea. She watched as he lifted his arms up as she lifted, pressing his palms to the ceiling. Lowering his brown eyes, he looked down at her and nodded with a nervous, almost queasy look.

"Okay, let go."

The girl peered up at him, brows scrunched together. "Are you planning on breaking your ankles?"

"Just let go, you dick," he snapped at her, glaring at the girl who was holding him up.

"Hey, don't call me a dick, you dick-"

Whatever insults Frankie was about to sling at Peter died in her mouth. She'd let him go, prepared to let him drop like a sack to the ground. Maybe even laugh at him while he did. But that didn't happen. Instead, she gaped up at the teenage boy hanging by his fingertips from the ceiling, legs swinging several feet off the ground. His face was twisted and nervous, afraid in the same way Frankie was when she looked at that hole in the brick mere minutes ago.

Fear. That's what they had in common.

"Okay…" she whispered, pushing her hair back out of her face, "I definitely can't do that."

Peter's eyes stilled on her own, still hanging and legs swinging. "I think we might need to talk about this."

After tugging him off of the ceiling- bits of plaster still stuck to his palms- the two teens ran out of the pharmacy and into their building. The elevator ride up to Peter's floor was silent, tense. There was a solid five feet between them at all times, but Peter couldn't help sneaking glances at the girl beside him. Her poorly dyed hair was a mess under her cap, and her head kept twitching from side to side in a way that made him even more nervous to be beside her.

Even without all that she looked… different. She'd grown at least an inch, but he'd never had to look down at her. She'd always been taller than him. And all her acne was just gone, leaving her pale skin unmarried for the first time in years. Even her shoulders were a little trimmer. Barely noticeable, but there. She was already muscular up top, but everything seemed a little more spread out now.

She seemed to feel his eyes on her, turning her gaze accusingly towards him.

"Stop staring at me," she hissed, green eyes squinting dangerously at him. He quickly eyes his head away from her, keeping them trained on the elevator doors.

They stayed that way, stepping out of the elevator and into his apartment. Peter was careful to wrap his hand in the sleeve of his jacket before touching the doorknob. He didn't want to get stuck again. He turned to Frankie, pressing a finger to his lips. The girl seemed to get the idea, nodding her head and stepping quietly through the door.

Peter could hear May and Ben speaking in their room, seemingly unaware that the two teens had entered. They crept quietly towards his room, sliding in and silently closing the door behind them. As he pressed the door closed, Peter turned to see Frankie eyeing his room carefully.

"Not much has changed," she observed quietly, pointing towards his bed, "Same sheets."

He stared at her, unsure of what to say. It had been years since she'd been in this apartment, let alone in his room. "Did you wanna talk about my sheets?"

"No," she spat, her face flicking from annoyed to carefully controlled, "I just… I don't know. This doesn't make sense."

"You're telling me," Peter sighed, running his hands over his face and stepping away from the door, "I wake up with perfect vision and abs and weird sticky hands-"

"Abs?"

Dropping his hands from his face, the boy gave Frankie an incredulous look. "Out of everything we've talked about, the abs are what's got you shocked?"

Her hands went up in mock surrender, though her face was just as aggressive as it had been before. "I'm just processing-"

"I should've known better than to- to talk to you about any of this," Peter huffed, glaring right back at her. He didn't want her here. She was literally the last person he wanted here with him. "You're so-"

"I'm so what?" she cut him off, eyes widening and fists tightening at her side, "Seriously, who the hell else are you supposed to talk to about this crap without being thrown in the looney bin or shipped off to some SHIELD secret lab to be cut open?"

"Literally anyone else!" Peter snapped, barely containing his voice and alerting his aunt and uncle to their presence, "You are the last person I want to share secret superpowers with."

"I'm not exactly thrilled either, asshole!" Frankie scoffed, hands flying up wildly and eyes flicking all over the room as if she didn't know what to look at, "I didn't ask for this."

"Well, neither did I."

"How the hell are we supposed to figure this out?" she continued, voice tighter and fingers twisting together the way they always did when she was nervous. "There's not exactly a wikipedia page for mutant spider bites."

Peter sighed, bringing his hands up to his head and clutching his hair. "I don't- I don't know. Maybe we got spider-ish powers?"

She eyed him warily, disbelief written all over her sharp face. "Spider-ish?"

"I can stick to stuff," he shrugged, unsure of how to explain the theory without sounding like a freak, "You have massive strength- spiders can carry up to a hundred and seventy times their weight. And- and what's going on with your ears?"

Frankie's fingers travelled up and ghosted over the shell of her right ear. He could see traces of blood peeking out from under her cap and behind her hair. He watched as her lips pressed together and fingers shook almost imperceptibly.

"It's… it's more like all my senses," she barely whispered, fingers staying by her ear, "Like everything's happening at max volume ten seconds before it's actually happened. Like…"

Oh, shit.

"Like you know if something's gonna happen before it does?"

Her eyes snapped up to his, all traces of annoyance forgotten. "You too?"

"Clearly not as bad as you," he almost laughed at that, pointing towards her bloody ear, "It's more in my eyes. Everything's too bright, too sharp. And I get this weird feeling, kinda like a tingle at the back of my neck."

The girl nodded her head slowly, hair falling over her shoulders as she did. Her hand dropped, forgotten at her side. Her eyes flicked up, thinking about something like she'd forgotten it. He remembered that look well. It hadn't changed since they were five. Slowly and carefully, her lips parted and she looked back up at him.

"I read once that spider's senses can border on precognition," she said, choosing her words carefully, "Is that what's happening to me? I mean- I mean to us?"

"I-" Peter stammered, hand going up and down in an unsure gesture of solidarity, "I don't know."

Out of nowhere, Frankie's green eyes widened like she'd seen a ghost. Peter stepped back slightly, unsure of what the hell was going through her head.

"Oh god," she whispered, suddenly walking straight towards him with wide, scared eyes, "Am I gonna start spitting venom?"

"What?" he responded incredulously, frozen on the spot.

"Spiders spit venom," she hissed, voice high and scared, "Am I gonna start- I don't wanna start spitting anything."

"D-don't freak out," Peter stammered, his own mind going through every terrifying power they might have inherited and feeling his hands shake, "If you freak out I'm gonna start freaking out."

"Well, I'm freaking out!" she cried, hands pressed against her head and backing up on unsteady feet.

"Goddamn it!" he whispered back, his body mimicking hers as she genuinely started freaking out.

The two breathed hard, trying desperately to control their panic. Peter breathed hard, but not as hard as Frankie. She looked like she was drowning on dry land, arms flailing at her sides as he leaned against the door for support. Without thinking, he grabbed hold of her arm and opened his mouth to try and calm her down when both of them felt their ears perk up.

Footsteps.

Frankie and Peter stared wide eyed at each other for a second before straightening up and putting some distance between each other. Peter ran his hand down his face to wipe away a stray tear that had escaped his eye and Frankie shoved bother her hands in her hoodie pockets to stop anyone from seeing them shake. They barely pulled it together as the sound of the door squeaking open ripped through the room.

"Peter, what's with all the-" May's voice was a little worried as she entered the room, stopping cold when she saw the other occupant. "Oh. Hello, Frankie."

"Hey, Mrs. Parker," she said, the shake in her voice barely there but noticeable if you knew her well enough, "Long time no see."

"What are you- uh, what are you doing here?" his aunt questioned, a smile carefully placed on her face that said she wasn't quite comfortable with the girl in front of her. May's eyes flicked over to her nephew. "Peter, I thought you were at the pharmacy?"

"Uh, well-" he stammered, scratching nervously at his neck, "Uh, you see-"

"Chemistry project," Frankie piped up, voice a little squeaky before she cleared her throat and evened it out, "Yeah, the teacher told me to bring him the news. He thought if we had some sort of bonding experience we'd stop disrupting the class to throw wads of paper at each other's heads."

May snapped her gaze over to him, looking disappointed. "You were throwing wads of paper at Frankie's head?"

Peter shot a glare at the blonde girl beside him before looking guiltily over at his aunt. "Only… twice."

"Peter, you know you can't-"

"Where's the fire?" another voice rang out. A voice that was quickly followed by his Uncle Ben walking into the room. Peter wanted to slam his head against the wall. Why did they all have to come in now of all times?

"Oh, hello Frankie," Ben greeted kindly, looking far less suspicious than May, "How's Cordelia?"

"Hasn't wandered off once," she provided with a big fake smile, "Sorry about that."

Ben smiled down at her. "You apologize too much, kid."

"Sorry," she repeated distractedly.

"Sweetie, they're working on a project together," May provided, her voice just a little tighter than usual. Which meant Peter was going to have to do some explaining later.

"That'll be nice," his uncle responded enthusiastically, pumping his fist in a manner that made Peter want to sink into the floor with secondhand embarrassment. "Gang's back together."

"The gang is definitely not back together," the teenage boy interrupted glumly, shooting Frankie a warning look, "Just… forced together for the time being."

"Well, it wasn't exactly my choice, was it?" She simpered, barely covering her anger with a sickly disposition.

"Okay then," Ben waved them off, smile still gracing his face, "Just don't burn the place down in the process."

"Actually," Frankie cut in, pointing towards the door, "I was just leaving. Got other homework and such."

"You sure?" Peter inquired, fixing his eyes on her, "I thought we had to discuss some stuff."

"It can wait," she responded, giving him another big fake smile before stepping towards the front door, "Nice to- uh, to see you all again."

Her head was ducked as she pushed her way towards the door. Peter could see his uncle's mouth opening, most likely about to inviter her to dinner- an act that would annoy May to no end. But before any sound could escape his lips, Frankie suddenly turned on her heel and looked Peter dead in the eye.

"Hey, Peter," she said, her voice carefully arrogant but eyes serious, "That project. Do you wanna work on it this weekend?"

The boy furrowed his brows, shooting her a confused look. "What are you-"

"The big project," Frankie interrupted pointedly, "Do you want to work on it with me tomorrow? I mean, it's gonna take, like, the whole semester."

Realization dawned on him. He had to hand it to her, it was a good cover story. "Oh- yeah. Yeah, let's meet up tomorrow."

She nodded, turning back towards the door. "Don't keep me waiting."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

With that, she shut the door behind her and left the Parker's standing around, a little more than confused. Peter felt his stomach twist in knots, hoping his family would let this one go.

May was the first to break the silence. "Well, she was acting strange."

"I think she was normal," he tried, voice squeaking a little. Even to Peter's ears, that was a pretty bold lie. "Well, I- I should probably get a jump on decathlon stuff. Y'know, since I missed practice."

"Are you feeling well enough for that?" May questioned, her hand going up to check his temperature.

"Yeah! Yeah, totally," he dodged her hand, ducking out of the way and towards his room, "I'm just gonna- uh, be in my room."

"Okay," she relented, looking back up at Ben, "I'll make you some dinner in a bit."

"Perfect," he squeaked, quickly shutting the door with a slam and leaning against it in an attempt to breathe for a moment.

Everything felt like it was just too much. The bite. Passing out for hours. Weird, spider based powers and now Frankie Hart of all people was the only one he could talk to about any of this. He wondered if his life could get any worse, but he didn't want to tempt fate.

With a sigh, Peter walked towards his open window, poking his head out for a small breath of fresh air. As he did, he heard something creak above his head.

"Y'know, there's no fresh air in Queens."

Craning his neck, the brown haired boy looked up to where Frankie's window sat open. The girl in question stood on her own fire escape, looking down at him with pursed lips and a sour expression .

Instead of answering that very strange statement, Peter peered up at her. "You're a really good liar."

She knew what he was talking about. The blonde looked out into the city for a brief moment before shrugging down at him. "I got good at it."

"But you used to suck at lying," he pointed out, unable to stop the slight quirk at the edge of his mouth, "I mean, you'd start stuttering and sweating and-"

"I said I got good," Frankie cut him off with a glare, eyes cutting right through him. "Practice, dipshit. Not like you'd know."

He scoffed, leaning back a little. "Not like you'd let me."

Something about what he'd said made her shift around on her feet. The old metal grating squealed beneath her, making her groan in pain for a moment. She didn't acknowledge it, so neither did he. Instead, he watched as she looked down at him with intense eyes.

"This doesn't make us friends," she stated simply, a little quieter than usual.

"Right," Peter grumbled, his own face falling a fraction, "Never said we were."

Her lips opened, a retort clearly on her mind when they were both interrupted by someone yelling. It was coming from inside her apartment. Peter watched as she closed her eyes, taking a breath before glaring at him once more with a little more vigor.

He pointed towards her window, looking up at her questioningly. "Is that coming from-"

"It doesn't concern you, Parker," she spat, eyes flicking inside her own window for a moment, "Go back to the Brady Bunch or whatever. We'll discuss tomorrow."

She didn't give him a chance to respond, crawling inside her window without a goodbye. Peter let out a huff, leaning heavily against the windowsill. His jaw clenched. He didn't like being angry, even at his former best friend.

Instead, he listened for a moment. There was another yell, someone calling someone else an asshole. He would have pegged it on Frankie if the voice wasn't distinctly male. He briefly wondered what was happening in there, but it wasn't his business.

Guilt briefly flickered through him. He should care. He did. But he hadn't ventured even close to trying to look into her family since she lost her mom. When she'd truly shut him out of his life. It hadn't worked out well for him then.

He sent her one last scowl- it didn't matter if she saw it or not- and ducked back into his room, shutting the window as he did.