5 times Peter Parker's Enhanced Senses Caused Him Problems

by The Muses' Summer House

and 1 time that they saved him.

6. Taste

AN: Well, here is the end of the 5. After this there's just the +1. Are you excited? I'm excited!

Taste

Sometimes, Peter really wished that he had the ability to think ahead. He wished that he had the patience to stop and think his actions through before he did something rash. As Spider-Man, when he failed to think ahead, the result would often lead to a hasty escape from a dangerous situation. As Peter Parker, failing to think ahead had less deadly consequences, though they were nevertheless dreaded. It would seem that no matter how many times he found himself in preventable trouble, his brain refused to learn its lesson.

Peter sat at his desk in his room. Early morning sunshine was streaming in through his window, bright enough that he didn't need to turn on the lights. In front of him, a roll of Star Wars birthday wrapping paper sat on the desk. Not for the first time, he cursed his inability to think things through. This was the only wrapping paper in the house, which would have been fine if he were wrapping Ned's birthday gift. Before now, 100% of the birthdays that he had gone to had been for Ned. Star Wars wrapping paper was welcomed there. However, he wasn't wrapping Ned's gift. In his hand was a pack of water colour pencils. His gift for MJ. He visibly cringed at the thought of giving her anything that was Star Wars themed. Even if it was just the wrapping.

He had picked out her gift weeks ago, why hadn't he thought to buy a roll of normal wrapping paper? Well, he did know why. He just had too much on his plate right now. He was spending more and more time with Mr. Stark, working in his lab. In addition to that, he did nightly patrols, went to school, and made time for his and MJ's upcoming science fair project. He found himself feeling weary more often than not these days. There weren't enough hours in the day to accomplish it all, but he also couldn't bring himself to cut any of those activities out of his schedule.

With a defeated sigh, he resigned himself to giving MJ the pencils as they were. Placing them in his back pack, he stood and swung the bag on to his back in one fluid motion.

From the kitchen he could hear something sizzling, and the enticing scent of a hot breakfast lead him to the kitchen. In front of the stove, May stood with a flipper in hand. She was watching over a frying pan with an intense focus, like she was anticipating its imminent combustion. Peter struggled for a moment to stifle his laugh, before giving up. His laughter echoed in the small kitchen. May spared him a brief glance, a smile curling her lip. She returned her gaze to the frying pan, flipper poised at the ready.

"Concentration is key." She muttered with mock seriousness. "If my attention strays, even for a moment, we both know that this will end up being added to the long list of breakfast casualties."

Peter nodded his head in agreement, though May couldn't see it. Pulling open the cutlery drawer, he picked up a couple of forks and knives for him and May.

"That smells great!" He said while sliding in to one of the kitchen chairs, placing his bag near his feet. He gave the air a sniff. "Eggs, bacon, cheese, spinach, onion, and…" he trailed off before drawing one more long sniff. "Red pepper." He concluded. "You really went all out on that omelet."

May turned to look at him, a plate in each had. She had the same surprised look on her face that appeared whenever she was reminded of his enhanced abilities. After a moment, it disappeared. She shook her head in exasperation while placing the food on the table.

"Huh, so your super sniffer can smell all the different ingredients, but it's too uncultured to know that these are frittatas, not omelets?"

Peter's head cocked to the side as he examined the food more closely. What the heck was a frittata? This omelet doppelganger, apparently.

"Frittata?" He asked while taking a bite. He felt his mouth curl in to an uncontrollable smile as the taste exploded in his mouth. His heightened sense of taste intensified the flavor of anything he ate. Honestly, his heightened sense of taste completely made up for all the other crap he had to deal with his other senses. Sure, he had episodes of uncontrollably itchy skin, and he couldn't stand to be around heavy fragrances. And, yeah okay, it was super annoying and sometimes embarrassing when he overheard something that was not meant for his ears. The silver lining in all of this was that food that tasted good before the spider bite, now tasted divine.

"Yeah, I thought I'd go back to my Italian roots." May said, breaking Peter's train of thought. "How does it taste?"

"Like an omelet." He replied with a smirk. He laughed as May gave him a withering look and moved to slap his arm lightly. He dodged it easily. "It's delicious, May. What did I do to get such a fancy breakfast?"

May shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly while stabbing some more not-omelet on to her fork.

"I just thought I'd give my boy a hearty breakfast on vaccination day." She stood suddenly and moved to open the refrigerator. "Also, I packed you a lunch." She added, pulling out a brown paper bag that was stuffed with so much food that the top of the bag couldn't be folded over. Peter felt his eyes widen at the sight.

"Whoa."

May placed the lunch on the table, with a slight thump. She regarded his reaction with a critical gaze.

"Too much?" She asked. Peter hastily shook his head. For him, there was no such thing as too much food.

"Not at all. I got hollow legs, remember? Nothing goes to waste." He said brightly, taking the lunch from the table and putting it into his back pack. It barely fit. "You know that the nurses give us cookies and juice boxes, right? You didn't need to empty the fridge just to make me lunch." He added. May chose to ignore his comment.

"You got everything?" She asked. Peter nodded his head while hastily eating the last of his breakfast. "Consent form and waiver?" She pressed and Peter rolled his eyes while nodding again.

This year, for the first time ever, Midtown High School had received funding to support an affordable vaccination program so that students in the tenth grade could get the Tdap and Meningococcal vaccines. Since this was the first year that the school was running this program, all students in the tenth grade and above were eligible for the vaccines. After this year, it would only be available for sophomores. Peter knew that the cost of vaccinations could be quite expensive. There was no way he would miss out on this opportunity because he forgot his consent form.

"Aren't you meeting up with Michelle before school?" May asked, a coy smile played at the corner of her lip. Peter felt his stomach lurch at the reminder, as it often did now when he thought of MJ. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation, just different.

"Yep." He replied as his eyes darted to the oven clock. 7:00. He lept to his feet and scooped the back pack on to his back. May watched him with a knowing twinkle in her eye, which caused Peter to feel a twinge of annoyance.

"Better hurry up then. She didn't strike me as the kind of girl who will tolerate being kept waiting."

Peter nodded his head in agreement and hurriedly rinsed off his plate in the sink.

"I'll take care of that," May said, nodding her head towards his dirty dishes.

"Thanks, May!" He replied earnestly. He walked up behind her chair and wrapped her in a one-armed hug. She patted his forearm.

"Yeah, yeah. Get going." She muttered without any bite. Not wanting to be late, Peter heeded her words and quickly left the apartment. He had planned to meet with MJ at the school where they would review the foundation of their science fair project. He also planned to give her birthday present then. Butterflies flapped in his stomach at the thought. MJ was a bit unpredictable. He had never given her a gift before, so he had no idea how well it would be received.

Ever since that day in late January, when Flash had beat him up, he and MJ had become closer friends. They were now lab partners in chemistry. Apparently, the school, having found out the root cause of Peter and Flash's fight, had ordered that Gwen and Peter no longer be paired together. Mr. Jeffries had made an exception in his alphabetical seating plan in order to place Peter with a different lab partner. And so, Peter and Ned had switched partners, Mr. Jeffries muttering all the while about teenagers and hormones. The whole experience had been embarrassing for Peter, but at least he didn't have to deal with Gwen anymore.

Being partners with MJ was much different than being partners with Gwen. Gwen was a person who acted nice. She always knew what to say, and how to carry herself, and how to get people to like her. After that incident, Peter had figured out that her nice act was just that; an act. MJ was completely different. She was, at times, prickly and abrasive. MJ was not nice, like Gwen was, but she was kind. Anytime she asked Peter how he was doing, he could tell that she genuinely wanted to know. It wasn't just pleasantries.

Before meeting Gwen, Peter had thought that being nice and being kind were synonymous. He had never really stopped to consider their differences. Now he knew. Being nice was something that was shown, outwardly to the world. Being kind was something that was more genuine. Kindness was felt on the inside.

As Peter was walking down the street leading towards the subway station, he thought of what it was like to be partnered with MJ. Her snarking and sarcasm was simultaneously irritating and endearing. He was suddenly jarred from his thoughts when he felt it.

The hairs on the back of Peter's neck stood up, and his body whispered a warning. Someone was watching him. He stopped dead in his tracks so quickly that a passerby walked in to him. He muttered an apology to the man while looking around wildly at his surroundings. He heard the man grumble something about 'rude kids' and 'probably on drugs', but he didn't really pay him much mind. Peter's eyes searched for anything out of the ordinary, but there was nothing. No one was watching him. He breathed a frustrated sigh and continued to walk. He forced himself to walk at a normal pace, rather than give in to his desire to run.

There was nothing to run from, he reminded himself.

Peter had gotten this feeling that someone was watching him many times before in the past couple of months. There was never anyone there. He usually trusted the warnings that his body gave him. However, he was starting to worry that his 'Spidey sense', as Mr. Stark had dubbed it, was broken.

Why would anyone want to watch him anyway? No one knew about his secret identity. Not to mention, everyone that he fought as Spider-Man was just a petty criminal.

'Not everyone.' His mind whispered to him. Well, okay, one guy knew his identity; Liz's dad, the vulture. But he was behind bars. There was no way that he could be out and stalking him in the streets of New York.

This thought was reassuring, and Peter found himself slumping back in relief in to his seat on the subway. The noisy train was doing nothing to calm his nerves. So, in an effort to calm himself down, he slipped his noise filtering earphones in to his ears. Instantly, the ambient noise of the train was muted and Peter felt his eyes closing in relief. The feeling was still there, though Peter tried very hard to ignore it. His skin prickled as his anxiety rose. Despite his efforts to remain calm, Peter opened his eyes. His gaze darted around, trying to find something. But again, no one was looking at him. Just like no one had been following him to the station. Just like no one had been following him at any other time in these past couple of months.

Peter gave himself a mental shake, and berated himself for being stupid. Mr. Stark just had him spooked, that was all. His visit to the lab a couple of days ago had been a bit of an eye opener, as Peter saw first hand how paranoid Mr. Stark could be.

He had sat at the one of the lab tables, working on the schematics for his and MJ's science fair project. Though he was intensely focused on his work, a small part of his mind was always aware of his surroundings. He could hear the sounds of Mr. Stark working on one of his Iron Man suits. He was installing a cloaking device in it. When he had shown up at the lab earlier that day, Mr. Stark had given him a sheepish look before telling him that he had mostly completed the cloaking device. Peter still wasn't experienced enough to help him install it in to the suit. So, for the remainder of the day, Peter found himself working on his own project. That was fine by him. He didn't want to let MJ down by not completing his portion of the project on time.

Peter had been staring frustratedly at his work. He had hit a road block, and he wasn't sure how to fix it. He was considering taking a break and coming back to it later with fresh eyes when heard Mr. Stark's footsteps walking up to him from behind. He cast a look over him shoulder just as Mr. Stark had reached him. He was wiping oil off of his hands with a rag, while running his eyes over Peter's paper work.

"Looks like you hit a snag."

Peter had sighed while nodding his head.

"Yeah, the math doesn't check out here." Peter replied, while running his eyes fitfully over the swamp of numbers.

"Mmmhmmm." Mr. Stark hummed in agreement. He waited another moment and Peter figured that he was giving him a moment to find the mistake himself. The silence stretched a little while longer. "Look up." Mr. Stark said. Peter lifted his eyes slowly up the rows of integers. "To the left." He added. Peter complied, sliding his gaze over to the left side of the paper. And there it was. A miscalculation. It was a fairly obvious one, and Peter felt a little embarrassed that it had taken him so long to find it. "Ding, ding, ding." Mr. Stark said when he saw that Peter had seen the mistake.

Peter heaved a tired sigh as he realized that all of his work after that mistake was now useless. He balled up the paper and threw it across the table and into a garbage can. He then leaned his head back, and felt it bump into Mr. Stark's stomach. He looked up just as Mr. Stark turned his head to look down at him. Peter's defeated expression caused him to laugh.

"Yeah, those are the breaks, Kid." Mr. Stark stated, sympathy leaking in to his voice. He patted Peter on the shoulder. The gesture did actually lift Peter's spirits and, despite the fact that he would have to work all night in order to catch up to where he had been, he felt rather light. Mr. Stark grabbed the remaining pages and skimmed over them quickly. "So, this looks like the basic design for a water filtration system." He stated, confusion lacing his voice.

"It is." Peter confirmed. Mr. Stark grabbed a chair and pulled it over so that they were sitting next to each other.

"You know you got one of those in your suit, right? Why are you building one from scratch?"

"It's my science fair project." Peter replied. "Well, mine and MJ's. She came up with the idea of building a water filter that can fit in household drains, like sinks and showers and stuff. She says that chemical pollution from untreated raw sewage is one of the biggest problems with ocean pollution. So yeah, we're making this thing." He gestured vaguely to the papers that Mr. Stark was still holding. Mr. Stark raised an eyebrow at him and gave the papers one last critical glance before placing them on the table.

"I'm pretty sure that unfiltered raw sewage is a problem that's supposed to be fixed top down, not bottom up."

"Yeah, MJ thinks so too. But this is a science fair not a competition for fixing flawed government regulation. Gotta stick to your lane, ya know."

Mr. Stark smirked at him.

"Most kids make a baking soda volcano."

Peter rolled his eyes and shot Mr. Stark an exasperated look. He built computers in his free time. Not to brag, but he was a little above baking soda volcano.

"Mr. Stark, I go to a STEM school. The science fair is our Super Bowl."

"Fair enough." Mr. Stark conceded. "So, how about we work out the kinks in the schematics today and then, next week, get cracking on a prototype?"

"I can't do that, Mr. Stark!" Peter exclaimed. "It's an unfair advantage to use top of the line lab equipment to win a science fair. I'm just going to use whatever I can at school, and whatever scrap I find to build it."

Mr. Stark was staring at him with a certain look in his eye. He had seen it before. Not just in Mr. Stark's eyes, but Ben's as well. It was a look that was reserved for whenever Ben had seen him doing the right thing. Mr. Stark shook his head slightly and smiled fondly.

"You're too good for this world, MacGyver."

Peter felt a warm feeling spread through his chest at the praise. It was tainted slightly by confusion.

"Who?" He asked. That, apparently, was the wrong question to ask. Mr. Stark sighed an aggravated sound and ran a hand over his forehead.

"Ugh, you make me feel so old." Mr. Stark muttered. He suddenly sat straighter in his seat and regarded him with a serious gaze. "Anyway, I actually did come over for a reason." Mr. Stark stood and turned Peter's chair around so that he was facing the area that Mr. Stark had been working in. "Peter, what do your elf eyes see?" He asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Peter could help the smile that accompanied hearing that question. A few weeks ago, he had been waiting for Mr. Stark's meeting to wrap up so that they could get down to working in the lab. To kill some time, he had decided to watch some old Lord of the Rings memes and videos on his phone. He had been dusted off some old gems like 'Trolling Saruman' and 'Legolas! What do your elf eyes see?' when Mr. Stark had finally shown up.

"Is that it? Is that the whole joke? He's just stating what he sees."

"Well, it's funny 'cause, you know, a huge part of Legolas' dialogue is just explaining stuff to the audience."

"No, I don't know. I never saw Lord of the Rings."

"What?! How is that possible? They're classics."

"You shut your blasphemous mouth. Nothing that has come out in my life time is allowed to be considered a classic. I forbid it."

Mr. Stark's reaction had been absolutely priceless. It was truly a memory that Peter would cherish for years to come. A broad smile stretched over Peter's face as he searched the area that Mr. Stark had indicated to. At first glance he saw nothing, but then he noticed a faint shimmering, roughly in the shape of a person.

"Mmmm, I see light refracting off of the suit over there." He pointed over to the invisible-ish suit. At his words, Mr. Stark grumbled in discontent before tapping on his wristwatch. The cloaking device was disabled and the Iron Man suit suddenly appeared, in all of its red and gold splendor. Peter hated that he had wrecked Mr. Stark's good mood. After all, he had been working on his suit for just as long as Peter had been working on the schematics for the water filter. Now, they were both back at square one. "But, I mean, it's probably just me who can see it." He added quickly, trying to repair some of the damage. "You should get Ms. Potts down here and ask her what her elf eyes see."

Mr. Stark shot him a look, like he had just said something incredibly stupid.

"First of all, if I ask Pep what her elf eyes see, she'll probably break off our engagement." Peter made an indignant sound at that and had started to deny his statement. Mr. Stark cut him off before he could say anything. "And second," he added, "you're not the only enhanced person out there. I want this suit to be invisible to anyone." His voice had become hard on that last point, and Peter shot him a quizzical look.

"Well," He began, eyeing the suit contemplatively. "I mean, it's probably good enough as it is now-"

"Nope." Mr. Stark interjected, cutting him off again. "Security takes top priority around here. Once I've perfected the cloaking feature, I'll be installing it in your suit too."

At that time, Peter had thought that Mr. Stark was being a little too paranoid. The urgency in his voice had left Peter a bit shaken. Not to mention, he didn't think that his suit really needed a cloaking feature. Not that it wouldn't be cool to be able to disappear, but it just seemed a bit… much. Later, when he had thought about it some more, he supposed that Mr. Stark's paranoia wasn't totally unjustified. The man had seen things, and fought battles that Peter had never even come close to. He had told him so himself that day in the Medical Bay, after Peter had been electrocuted by the train tracks. He had faced terrorists, aliens, and gods. Peter had only faced one really bad guy. Everyone else was just a common criminal.

Mr. Stark took care of the world. Peter just took care of the neighbourhood. Sometimes it was easy to forget that. To the world, he was Iron Man; earth's protective shield. He had once thought that too. At some point, between his weekly visits, their casual conversations and teasing, his perception of the man had changed. He was Mr. Stark, he was Iron Man, but he was also more.

Peter was jarred out of his thoughts as he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw a text from MJ. His stomach did a little flip as he noticed the time. He was couple of minutes late.

'Where are you?' Peter had been texting MJ a lot, given that they were partners on the same project. He knew that she usually gave short response text, no matter what her mood was. Although, he couldn't help but worry that she was annoyed.

'5 mins from school. Where are we meeting?' He shot back quickly. Her reply came a few seconds later.

'Courtyard'

Just then, Peter noticed that the train was approaching his stop. He jumped up quickly and slid through the crowds of people to stand by the door. He was bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet as the train pulled into the station and came to a stop. He felt antsy from the combined nervousness of having a possibly annoyed MJ waiting for him, and his prickly spidey sense alerting him to non-existent danger. As he left the subway station, he gave in to his desire to run in order to burn off some of his nervous energy.

Despite how busy the street was, Peter used his agility to weave through people and shorten the amount of time it would take to reach the school. It was late March, and technically spring, however the air was still crisp with the last remnants of winter clinging to it. Peter could feel his nose growing cold as the chilly air whipped past him. He reached the school, and ran around the side of one of the buildings to reach the courtyard. In the distance, Peter could see MJ, who sat at one of the concrete tables and benches. He slowed his pace as he reached the table.

The sun light glinted off of MJ's hair, setting it alight with warm brown shades. Her dark eyes met his, and Peter felt his stomach clench. Much to his relief, she didn't seem annoyed that he was late. On the table were two paper cups. Their scent caught on the passing breeze, and Peter could tell that one was coffee and the other hot chocolate. MJ raised an eyebrow at him expectantly.

"You gonna sit down?" MJ asked. Peter felt a flush creep on to his cheeks as he realized that he had been standing there, staring at her like an idiot.

"Oh, uh, yeah."

He hurriedly sat across from her, placing his back pack beside him on the bench. MJ's grabbed one of the cups handed it to him.

"I gotcha hot chocolate." She said while her lips quirked upward in a ghost of a smile. Her eyes danced with amusement, and Peter knew that she was thinking about the first time they had met outside of class to work on their project.

She had told him to meet her at a little, hole in the wall café. He had been nervous about it since it was the first time hang out with MJ outside of school. She had ordered a coffee and he had ordered the same. He wasn't sure why he did that. He supposed that he didn't want to seem like a wuss. He had only drunk coffee once before, when he was thirteen. The caffeine had made him feel restless and hyper. But that had been years ago. Surely, he could handle it now, right? He was older now, more mature.

He regretted his choice as soon as he felt the caffeine hit his blood stream. Nothing had changed. He felt just as hyper and full of energy as he had when he was thirteen. Not to mention the taste of black coffee was just awful. All those commercials for Folgers and Nabob should be sued for false advertising. Coffee was in no way 'rich' or 'smooth'. The bitterness exploded over his tongue with the first sip, causing him to cough and splutter a bit. MJ had given him a speculative look, while sipping her own coffee. He was determined to not seem weak, so he choked back the entire cup. Peter had concluded, as he sat in the café, tapping his fingers and drumming his heel on the ground, that he just wasn't a coffee drinker.

"Thanks!" Peter exclaimed, accepting the cup from MJ. His fingers brushed hers briefly and his blush intensified. He withdrew his hand quickly, sloshing some of the hot chocolate out of the cup and on to his hand. He hissed as the drink burned his hand a little. He looked up and saw that MJ was actually smiling now. His heart lifted a little with her smile, even though it was at his expense. He quickly set his drink down and pulled the project notes out of his bag. "I worked out that problem we had in the schematics. It should work now." He said while handing the notebook over to MJ. Her gaze became serious as she flipped through the pages.

Peter felt his nerves rising as MJ inspected his work. He wasn't sure why he felt so anxious all of a sudden. He knew for a fact that his design was correct. In order to busy his hands, and give himself something to do while MJ was reading, he took a sip of his hot chocolate. Rich chocolaty goodness flooded his mouth. The drink was made with milk, not water. The chocolate to milk ratio was absolute perfection, causing a serene smile to appear on his face. When she was done reading the notes, she gave an approving nod and lifted her eyes to meet Peter's.

"Yeah, this looks solid." She stated appreciatively. "Now we just got to make these numbers look nice and pretty, and comprehensible to an audience. Then put it up on a poster board. Boom, done." She said, slapping her hand on the table for emphasis.

Peter felt his smile drop, not quite managing to hide his disappointment. He had really been looking forward to building something on his own again. To try his hand in a new project without Mr. Stark's help.

"Wait, we're not gonna make it?"

MJ furrowed her brow subtly while giving him a confused look.

"What would we make it with?" She asked.

Oh.

Of course, MJ wouldn't know that Peter built gadgets in his spare time. Or that he had developed, from scratch, liquified metal that was strong enough to hold his weight, and then some. Sometimes it was difficult to keep track of all these secrets.

"I'm don't know." Peter replied honestly. Well, it was honest because he really didn't know what he would use to make it. But he was certain that he could do it. "But we still got plenty of time before the science fair happens. We could try to build a prototype out of regular household items."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Peter felt his shoulders tense up defensively. He was so used to the other kids putting him down. Calling him a liar. His body tensed as if preparing for a physical blow. He searched for that spark of mocking derision in her eyes, but it wasn't there. Instead, MJ was the one who looked uncertain and small. For a moment, Peter wondered if this was how he looked whenever someone laughed at his expense. He hated it. MJ was tough as nails. Nothing should ever make her look like this.

"Can't say I've ever built something mechanical in my life. That's your area of expertise." MJ's voice was quiet as she busied her hands by swirling her cup. The coffee inside made a sloshing noise.

"So, we're building it?" Peter pressed. MJ gave an annoyed sigh and placed her cup back on the table.

"I won't be able to help." She stated flatly raising her eyes to meet his.

"And I can't say for sure that my prototype will work. Let's just try." Peter replied with a shrug. MJ's eyes flickered over his face, searching for something. After a moment, a smirk stretched over her face, and Peter felt a smile stretch over his face as well.

"Okay." She said firmly, before taking a long sip of her coffee.

A comfortable silence stretched between them while they drank their drinks. Peter's mind strayed back to the gift he had for MJ, safely tucked away in his bag. Without a second thought he moved to pull it out. He wasn't sure what it was exactly. Maybe it was the new found trust he had found in MJ. The knowledge that she would never laugh at him. Well, not maliciously anyway. The fact that he had been so nervous to give her gift to her seemed ridiculous now.

"Happy Birthday!" He said brightly, handing her the pack of pencils, with perhaps a touch of dramatic flair. MJ's eyebrows rose higher than he had ever seen them before. Her gobsmacked expression gradually receded back in to a sort of calm surprise as she took the pencils from him.

"I never told you when my birthday was." She stated in her usual flat voice, although Peter could still see the surprise lingering in her eyes.

"I saw you write it on the waiver, when they were handed out in homeroom."

Astonished wonder quickly turned to barely suppressed amusement. Peter could tell MJ was trying to look serious, but a small quirk of her lips, a badly concealed smile gave her away.

"That's creepy."

"So you noticing that I quit robotics lab and marching band is 'being observant', but me seeing you write something on a paper one foot to my left is 'creepy'." Peter rallied back. He had long ago learned how to banter with MJ. It took some getting used to, since MJ's brand of humour was a little off center. At first it was hard to tell when she was genuinely upset or not. But after a while, he had learned that was just… MJ.

"Yep." She replied easily. Just then, Peter saw the façade fall away. "Thanks." She said, genuine gratitude seeping in to her voice. "I've never used water colour pencils before."

It didn't happen often that MJ allowed herself to be so unguarded. Peter had only seen her like this, stripped away of masks and veils, once before. That day that she had exclaimed urgently, that she 'wasn't a bitch!' and Peter had wondered why she had thought he would think of her like that. He had a suspicion that MJ didn't have enough bright spots to light up her days. When moments like this would come around, Peter would see a softer, less angry and defensive side of MJ. A side that was outwardly happy. She was beautiful, Peter thought, though he would never dare to say that aloud, for fear of bodily harm.

"Now you can draw people in distress in colour." He said, effectively shattering the moment. MJ eyed him with a deadpan look.

"I don't think you really understand the concept of being distressed. For most people, it's not a colourful experience."

Peter crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes with mock seriousness.

"What? Oh, c'mon. Don't give me that. What about 'feeling blue'?" He countered.

"That's not-"

"Or 'seeing red'?"

"Yeah, well-"

"Or 'turning green with envy'?"

"Okay, fine. You win." MJ conceded with a roll of her eyes. The bell rang then, signaling that first period would start soon. Together, they packed up their stuff and headed off towards their chemistry class.

"I wonder what Mr. Jeffries prepared for the lesson plan today. You know, considering that we'll probably be leaving in the first ten minutes." Peter said as they walked together. MJ shrugged.

"Probably nothing." She replied as they reached the doors. "Five bucks says he'll turn on a movie and nod off as soon as we've been called down to the gym." She added while a coy smile lit up her face. Peter opened the door for them, and the usual harsh din of noise hit him. Students talking loudly, voices cracking, sneakers scuffing, lockers slamming. He tried hard not to wince at the noise, but must have failed as MJ's eyed him critically.

"Nah, he seems more like a morning person to me." Peter replied, trying to move past the awkward moment. "He's always bright-eyed for our class. I bet he's gonna give us class time to work on whatever we want, while he watches cat videos and laughs at super outdated memes like they're new."

They had reached their class room. Before entering the room, MJ held out her hand for Peter to shake. He did so, hesitantly and awkwardly, while trying to remember the last time he shook hands with anyone.

"We shook on it. You can't welch on the bet once you lose." She said firmly then turned to walk in to class.

Peter blinked and stood in stunned silence for a moment before following after her. He took his seat next to MJ at their lab table. At the front of the room, Mr. Jeffries sat at his desk. The projector that was mounted to the ceiling was shining on the white pulled-down screen at the front of the room. A frozen image of 90s Bill Nye the Science Guy was staring back at him from the front of the room. Peter breathed a huff through his nose, and he could practically feel the smugness emanating from MJ. Things weren't looking so great for his wager. The bell sounded again and class began. Mr. Jeffries stood up to address the class.

"So, as you guys know, the school is doing the vaccination program today. You guys are gonna be coming and going all morning, so we're gonna have a light class today-"

The intercom system crackled to life, interrupting Mr. Jeffries speech. He cast an annoyed glace at the speaker.

"Would all Grade 10 boys, who have signed consent to receive the Tdap and Meningococcal vaccinations, please report to the gym. Thank-you.'

Before the announcement had ended, the boys in the class were already moving to pull consent forms and waivers out of their back packs.

"Yeah, you heard the lady. Get going." Mr. Jeffries said as the boys rushed out of class. "Don't forget to come back here after you're done! No wandering the halls!" He called after them. Peter followed after the other boys in his class, his papers in hand. He quickly caught up to Ned, who was looking a bit pale and was clutching his own papers so hard that it was crinkled.

"You okay, man?" Peter asked as he sided up to Ned. Ned whipped his head around and looked at Peter with a deer-in-headlights look before attempting to relax his expression.

"Pfft, what? Yeah. It's no big deal. Just needles. It won't hurt." He rambled quickly. Peter nodded encouragingly. "I mean, I bruise like a peach, so that will hurt. But other than that, I'm good. Yeah. No biggie." Ned continued nervously, giving himself his own pep talk.

Peter smiled at Ned's nervous rambling. Though Ned wasn't really listening to him, Peter would add in his own words of encouragement.

"Yeah, Man. You got this!"

Helping Ned with his anxiety helped a bit to distract himself from his own. Peter supposed that was what he was feeling. His body was whispering warnings at him again. The prickling becoming more and more urgent as he approached the gym. His arm hair was standing on end. He tried ignored it.

It was just nerves. That's all.

He and Ned stood in a long line with all the other boys in his year. Looking around, Peter noticed that Ned wasn't the only one looking queasy. A number of other boys also looked green around the gills.

'To bad MJ's not here. She's missing a colourful distress moment.' Peter thought to himself while stifling a laugh with his palm. Ned shot him an odd look.

"Why are you laughing?" He asked, completely bewildered. Peter just shrugged and gave no answer. He couldn't explain why, but having an inside joke between himself and MJ made him feel kinda fuzzy inside.

Slowly the line moved along. Peter and Ned shuffled up every few minutes until they were at the front of the line. Inside the gym, a row of six spaces were sectioned off with curtains. Peter supposed that they were there to give the students some privacy. He wasn't exactly sure why that was necessary. The shots would go in their upper arms, no clothes needed to be removed. Maybe some people were just really sensitive?

Just then, the curtain was pulled back from two of the spaces. Out of those two spaces, two boys who Peter knew from sight, but didn't know the names of, walked out. One was sipping a juice box while the other munched on a cookie. Ahead of him, Ned took a shuddering breath. Peter patted him on the shoulder and could feel tense muscles under his palm.

"Needles suck, but meningitis is worse." He muttered to Ned, who laughed and nodded his head. They both moved forward towards the curtained area.

"I can help you over here!"

Peter whipped his head around towards the owner of the voice. One of the nurses poked her head out of her station, waving Peter over enthusiastically. He looked back over to Ned and shared a look of confusion with him. He shrugged, and the two of them parted ways. Peter entered the curtained area, and the nurse pulled it shut behind him.

The nurse was kind of… quirky. In both character and physical appearance. She had bushy dark brown hair that was held back from her face with a hair band. Thin purple streaks weaved through her curls. Peter didn't often go to hospitals anymore, but he didn't think he had ever seen a nurse with unnatural hair colour before. She gave him a sharp look with keen eyes that were hidden behind white octagon-shaped glasses.

Yeah. Quirky was definitely the word Peter was searching for here.

Peter noticed that she didn't wear any scrubs, but had a nurse's ID badge hanging from a lanyard around her neck. Claire Stephens, it read.

"Name?" She asked.

"Peter Parker." He responded, while handing his consent form and waiver over to her. She took them and ran her eyes to the bottom of the pages, looking for signatures.

"M'kay. Take a seat." She gestured to the chair in the middle of the makeshift room. Peter hesitantly sat down and watched her put the forms in a folder. He took a couple of deep breaths, trying to ease the waves of anxiety rolling over him.

'Run!' The command rang in his head and rippled through his body. He stayed seated, tightening his hands in to fists to hide the shaking. What was wrong with him? It was just booster shots. He had stared down the barrel of a gun with more ease than this.

"Try to relax." Claire said, obviously noticing his discomfort. On the tray next to him lay two syringes. "It'll just take a moment." She said while pushing the sleeve of his t-shirt up and around his shoulder. Peter looked away, but he could feel her warm hands gently grip his arm. A small pinch flared in his arm.

All went black.

Something was patting his cheek. He cracked open his eyes, but then firmly clenched them again when bright light hit them.

"Ahhh, there you are." A familiar voice said to him. "He's okay now, you can leave." A pair of foot steps were retreating. A curtain rod screeched as it was pulled open and closed again.

Peter tried to open his eyes again and managed to keep them open this time. She was sitting there. That lady. Who was she again? A nurse. Claire something-or-other. Slowly, Peter's mind connected the dots. School. Vaccination day. He tried to stand up, but a head rush made him feel woozy.

"Okay, easy now." Claire said, pushing him back in to his chair. He sat down heavily, his head throbbing.

"Wha' happened?" He asked. His voice came out a little slurry. Claire gave him a small smile, which Peter thought was supposed make him feel at ease. It didn't.

"You fainted." She explained.

Out of reflex, Peter cocked his head to the side and furrowed his brow. But then he quickly straightened his neck, as his head felt quite heavy. He fainted? He had never fainted because of needles before.

"Nothing to be ashamed of, dear." Claire added hastily. Peter felt his cheeks warm up at her patronizing tone. "Lots of people are afraid of needles. But maybe next time you get a shot, you tell the nurse that you have a fear of needles."

Peter rubbed a hand over his forehead as he turned her words over in his head. It was possible that he was afraid of needles now. People develop fears over time, right?

"Oh. Okay." He said lamely when he realized that she was waiting for a reply. She stood suddenly and pulled something out of a box. An orange juice box and a lunch size pack of cookies.

"Here you are." She said brightly while pressing them in to his hands. Then she gripped him by his elbows and helped him up to his feet. "Why don't you take a seat on the bleachers until you feel better?"

The thought of sitting in front of his classmates, woozy from a fainting spell, left him feeling mortified.

"No, no, I'm okay." He insisted, but unfortunately his voice still sounded slurred. He was fooling no one. Claire opened the curtain and lead him by the arm to the bleachers.

"I really have to insist here. We can't have a student collapse in the hallway."

With a hand on both of his shoulders, Claire pressed down so that Peter would sit on the first row in the bleachers. He sat down heavily again. He really didn't have the energy to fight, anyway. He could hear Claire's footsteps walking back to her work area. Peter just stared at his sneakers, while his mind tried to formulate coherent thoughts.

Peter's body felt heavy, and his mind moved sluggishly. But that was to be expected after fainting, right? He remembered then that he held a juice box and cookies in his hands. He needed to get his blood sugar up. Yeah, sugary snacks would perk him up. With gentle hands, he unwrapped the delicate straw and pierced the seal with it carefully.

Peter took a small sip of the orange juice, and promptly spat it on to his pants. His tongue was on fire! The citrus acid seared his taste buds painfully. Tears sprang in to his eyes as he coughed and spluttered.

Oh, God. He needed water! The taste was lingering on his tongue. It was burning away the top layer of skin, he was sure of it!

Peter sprung to his feet, his juice and cookies lay forgotten. A tiny part of his brain was aware that he was making a scene. He ran past the other boys in the line, and was vaguely aware of their snickering. He paid them no mind. His was laser focused on one thing.

Water!

Down the hall was a water fountain. Peter skidded to a halt in front of it, twisting the metal handle with so much force that it almost broke. Cool water flowed, and Peter drank it greedily. The water extinguished the fire and acted as a balm on his sore tongue. Several long seconds passed until, finally, Peter straightened up, wiping a hand over his wet mouth. He took a few deep breathes, feeling simultaneously relieved and frightened.

What the hell was that?!

Peter took a shuddering breath as his eyes scouted out the nearest washroom. He had to see the damage. He needed to know, even though his stomach churned with the fear of what he might see.

What was this? A latent effect of his spider bite? He had never felt his sense of taste go haywire on him like that. His other senses, sure. But this? This was just…

Peter had no words to complete his thought with. He pushed open the bathroom door and stumbled in front of one of the mirrors. His reflection stared at him, pale, wide-eyed and terrified. He needed to see, but he didn't want to. His tongue still ached with phantom pain. He opened his mouth and extended his tongue.

It looked normal. Pink and health. He waggled it a few times in order to see it from all angles. It looked fine.

A toilet flushed and a bathroom stall opened behind him. He found himself making unwanted eye contact with a boy through the mirror. The boy was looking at Peter like he had a third eye. Peter pulled his tongue back in his mouth and snapped his jaw shut. His cheeks flushed and he dropped his gaze. The boy washed his hands and left, without a word. Peter was left standing alone in the boy's wake. Suddenly, A hysterical laugh ripped from his throat and he gripped the counter tightly.

Was he crazy? Did that all just happen in his head? It was a terrifying thought, but then an even worse one occurred to him.

Is this the new normal?

Since the spider bite, Peter found that he was constantly adjusting his perception of 'normal'. For him, normalcy changed so frequently it gave him whip lash.

The new normal was freaked out senses.

The new normal was trying every second of the day to not accidentally crush things.

The new normal was life without Ben.

The new normal was crippling loneliness, even among friends and family.

The new normal was learning to trust people that he had no reason to doubt in the first place.

The new normal was hanging out with an eccentric billionaire every week.

Peter hung his head down and noticed that he had an orange juice stain on his right knee. May was gonna kill him, but not before he died of embarrassment. He pulled some paper towel out of the dispenser and wetted them in the sink. He tried to lift some of the juice out of the fabric with little success. With a grimace, Peter resigned himself to the verbal lashing he was sure to receive later.

He really should get back to class. Peter pulled out his phone and saw that he had been gone for forty-five minutes. There was only fifteen minutes of class left. With a jolt, he walked quickly back to his chemistry class. As he approached the room, he could hear the theme song to 'Bill Nye the Science Guy' playing. Well, at least he hadn't missed much during his fainting and spazzing trip. He slipped in to the class and was expecting Mr. Jeffries to berate him for being so late. Instead he saw the man was working on his laptop, completely absorb in whatever he was doing. The other boys in the class were looking at him knowingly. Others were barely suppressing their laughter. Peter knew that it wasn't out of consideration to him that they were trying not to laugh. Rather, none of them dared to make fun of him while a teacher was present.

Peter took his seat next to MJ, who gave him a fleeting concerned look. A look that dismissed any hope that Peter had that MJ hadn't heard about his fainting. He took a deep breath and look ahead at the screen. Bill Nye was teaching them about how friction was integral to the world not being slippery. Fascinating.

"I'll take that five bucks by cash or certified cheque." MJ's voice floated over from his side. Peter turned to look at her. It took him a moment to remember what she was talking about.

Right. Their bet. He glanced over at Mr. Jeffries, who was still immersed in his work.

"He didn't fall asleep. I only owe you $2.50." He replied. MJ hummed in agreement.

"So, cash?" She pressed after a moment of silence.

"I'll just buy your coffee next time we're out." Peter said casually. Then he froze in his seat as he thought of the implication of his words.

Did he just ask her out? Unintentionally? Sure, they had met outside of school that one time, but it had never been established that that would happen again. There was a beat of silence before Peter slowly turned to look at MJ. She was staring at him. Peter felt panic well up inside of him. Oh, God. He had made it weird, hadn't he? Before he could say anything to diffuse the situation, the intercom system crackled.

"Would all Grade 10 girls, who have signed consent to receive the Tdap and Meningococcal vaccinations, please report to the gym. Thank-you.'

MJ swiftly got out of her seat and hoisted her back pack up off of the ground. All of the girls were filing out of the room, but MJ took a moment before joining them.

"I expect prompt payment. Friday, after school." She said. Her voice sounded as bored as usual, but a small smile spread over her face. Peter felt his heart soar while he watched MJ leave, his eyes lingering for a few moments on the empty doorway. He exhaled a sharp, heavy breath. His body felt numb as he turned forward again.

He had asked MJ on a date, and she said 'yes'!

Peter sat up a bit straighter. He felt strange. Like his insides had liquified and at the same time turned as light as air. He had never felt this way before, not even when Liz had agreed to go to homecoming with him. He had felt happy then, but this was something else. Something more intense and giddy. Suddenly, MJ's chair was being pulled out, and Peter looked over to see Ned sitting down.

"Dude, are you alright?" He asked, his eyes giving Peter a once over sweep. Peter's cheeks were starting to hurt from his uncontrollable grinning. Despite this, his smile stayed in place.

"Yeah." He replied. Ned was giving him an odd look, and Peter felt himself flush a bit. Even to his own ears, his voice had sounded dreamy and longing. He coughed suddenly and tried to mentally shake off his state of euphoria. He might not have been the most macho of guys, but even he had limits. He realized, much to his embarrassment, that MJ had left him boarder line swooning.

'Get it together, man!' Peter ordered himself. Ned was looking more confused than ever.

"Laughing before getting shots and smiling after fainting." Ned said while shaking his head in disbelief. "You're a weird guy sometimes, Peter."

Peter's heart sunk at Ned's words. All traces of happiness left him. That's right, he had a new problem on his hands. One that had been momentarily eclipsed by his established first date with MJ. His sense of taste, his one non-problematic sense, had betrayed him. How was he supposed to eat now that everything tasted so intense? That orange juice had tasted like it took steroids and hit the gym seven days a week. Was this just how things were for the rest of his life? Choking back food that burned like sulphuric acid?

The issue weighed heavily on Peter's mind for the rest of the morning. He couldn't concentrate in class. His mind kept looping back to thinking of possible solutions for his problem. Maybe Dr. Cho could run some tests and figure out a solution for him? He felt bad, bothering her with his weird Spidey problems all the time. But this really wasn't something that he could just sweep under the rug. Eventually, he would need to eat something. He decided then that if his freaked-out sense of taste hadn't chilled out by the next day, he would call Mr. Stark. Yeah, he would give his body a solid 24 hours to fix itself. That was reasonable, right?

As the hours ticked by, lunch grew closer. Peter didn't need to look at a clock to know that, his stomach was doing all the talking. His stomach ached and growled as he sat at his and Ned's usual table. In front of him sat the lunch that May had packed him. He stared at it longingly, trying to build up the courage to try eating something again. His enhanced metabolism caused him to need to eat every few hours. Normally he would quickly eat a few snacks in the short breaks between classes. When he had first started doing that, Ned had laughed himself silly about how Peter was the only physically fit hobbit in the Shire. For a time, Ned had taken to calling him 'Pippin Parker'.

He and Ned were sitting at their table. Ned was jabbering on about his predictions for the upcoming season of Game of Thones. Peter was only half listening to him. He had his own problem to deal with. Also, he wasn't allowed to watch HBO, so Ned's excitement was lost on him. In front of Peter was a Tupperware container full of left-over spaghetti and beside that, a bottle of water that he had bought from a vending machine. He had learned his lesson. Hesitantly, he lifted some of the noodles out of the container and put them in his mouth. He spat it out as soon as it had touched his tongue. It burned just as badly as the orange juice had. He took a massive gulp of water to ease the burning and then squeezed his eyes closed out of frustration.

"That bad, huh?" Ned sounded more amused than concerned at this point. Peter supposed that he didn't grasp the severity of his problem. He didn't want to have to deal with Ned's 'freaking-out rambling' all day, so he kept quiet. "May's cooking has hit rock bottom if you're spitting it out." Ned added with a laugh. Peter opened his eyes and stared down dejectedly at the spaghetti. It would be easy to blame his lack of appetite on May's cooking. But that wasn't the truth, and Peter felt the urge to defend her.

"It's not that. I feel kinda queasy."

Ned's looked more concerned at the possibility that he may be sick. Now that Peter stopped and thought about it, he realized that he hadn't been sick since the spider bite. He conceded that Ned's concern was justified.

"Yeah, I noticed you didn't have your second breakfast or elevensies either. Maybe you're having a bad reaction to the shots?" Ned mused while taking a bit of his own lunch.

"Maybe."

Peter thought that that was the only logical conclusion. Maybe it would just take his weird mutated body a day or so to become normal again. He really hoped so.

Peter looked down at his lunch. He felt guilty about having to waste so much food, so instead he picked out some of the snacks that he knew Ned liked and slid them across the table to him. Waste not want not, and all that. Ned was happy enough to take them.

For the rest of the day, Peter felt restless. He tried to focus on his classes, but his mind kept returning to how hungry he was. His hunger was making him a bit hangry. He caught himself snapping a couple of times at Ned and MJ. He would apologize profusely afterward, but he still felt quite guilty about it. By the end of the school day, his stomach was rumbling loudly. The students around him would shoot him annoyed looks whenever it happened, or would laugh.

All in all, it just hadn't been a great day.

Time seemed to drag on. Peter's hunger making every minute feel longer than it should. Finally, the bell rang and Peter hastily left the building. He wasn't sure why he was in such a rush. It wasn't as if he would be less miserable outside of the school. Hunger wasn't something that you could run away from. He hoped to put in a few hours as Spider-Man. He knew that he didn't have the stamina to stay out all night, but he hoped that doing his usual patrols would help the time pass faster. With that thought in mind, Peter slipped in to an empty ally way and quickly changed in to his suit. He tapped his chest, cinching the suit closed, just as Karen's voice greeted him.

"Hello, Peter!"

"Hey, Karen." He responded less enthusiastically than usual. He picked up his back pack and started to climb the wall of the nearest building. Lately, he had started stashing his back pack on top of roofs instead of webbing it to a wall at ground level. He hadn't lost his bag since he started doing this, and he felt more than a little embarrassed that it had taken him so long to think of that idea.

"Is something the matter? You don't seem very happy today." Karen asked. Apparently, she had noticed his bad mood as well. This wasn't the first time that the AI had asked about his emotion well-being. Sometimes Peter would wonder why Mr. Stark had bothered to program her like that, but he would always forget to ask about it whenever they met.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Peter responded flatly as he stood on the roof top. He hoped that Karen would be able to understand his tone of voice and not press the issue. Truthfully, he wasn't sure how sophisticated Karen's ability to understand human emotion was. He hid his bag behind an air vent and made a mental note of which building he was standing on. He felt jittery and was eager to move. "Can you scan the area for any crime?"

"Of course."

Peter waited a few seconds for her response.

"Nothing has been reported. You'll have to scout out any disturbances on your own."

Peter had shot out a web and started swinging before Karen had finished speaking. His eyes scanned the city below as he sailed through the air. A pang of hunger twisted in his gut, but he tried his best to ignore it.

For about an hour, there was nothing. Nothing for Karen to report and nothing that Peter could see. At one point he had seen a few guys trying to move an upright piano in to an apartment building. It wasn't a crime, but it was something that he and his super strength could help out with. So he had stopped to help them out with that. They had seemed grateful for the help, but soon enough Peter was swinging away.

For another hour, Peter swung around aimlessly around Queens. Not that he wished for crime to happen, but the lack of distraction was making his hunger increasingly difficult to ignore. He felt tired and his muscles ached. He had just decided to take a rest and sit on top of a building when Karen chimed in.

"Peter, you have not eaten anything in hours and you seem to be fatigued. It is advisable that you stop and eat a snack."

Sometimes Peter wondered if FRIDAY ever nagged Mr. Stark like Karen did to him, but he doubted it. He let out a frustrated sigh while leaning back on the palms of his hands.

"Don't worry about it, Karen."

"Your metabolism requires you to eat more-"

"Yeah, yeah I know." Peter interrupted her. Guilt settled in to his stomach as the silence stretched on for a few more seconds. He sat up straight and bowed his head slightly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. I'll turn in early if nothing comes up." Karen said nothing in response, and Peter worried that she was angry with him. Rather than press the matter, Peter got up and was about to swing off of the building.

On the street below Peter saw a man holding a child's hot pink bike under his arm. He was walking in that hurried and awkward manner that Peter had come to associate with guilty thieves. He sprung in to action, swinging down directly in to the path of the suspected thief.

"Hey, man!" Peter said loudly. The man whipped his head around eyebrows shooting high up his forehead. He stopped in his tracks at the confrontation. "That doesn't belong to you!" Peter continued. The man flushed and looked around shiftily, confirming Peter's suspicion.

"No-o! It's mine!" The man cried, finally finding his voice. "It's for my daughter!"

At that moment, Karen activated the enhanced recognizance mode and Peter could hear a girl's voice cry from a little further down the street.

"Mommy, my bike is gone!"

The man tried to push past Peter, who easily grabbed the bike and webbed the man to a wall.

"Stealing from little girls is pretty low, dude." He said to the man, who was looking down at the webbing with shock. The man started to call after Peter, calling him a thief. Peter ignored him jogged down to where he had heard the voice come from. As he rounded the corner, he saw a woman and a girl standing in front of a bike rack. The girl was crying and the woman trying to console her.

"Special delivery!" Peter cried out and both the girl and her mother looked over to him. The girl's eyes widened with shocked relief.

"My bike!" She cried as she ran around from the bike rack and over to Peter. Peter could see that she was wearing a navy-blue leotard, pink tights, and a pair of shorts over top of them. He cast his glance over to the building beside them and felt his heart leap. It was a dance studio, one that he was familiar with. "Thanks Spider-Man!" the girl squealed, breaking Peter from his thoughts. He handed the bike to the girl just as her mother was approaching.

"Yes, thank-you so much, sir." The woman added sincerely. Peter felt himself flush under the praise. It was always felt odd whenever a civilian called him 'sir'. They had no way of knowing how old he was, and so they just assumed that he was an adult.

"Hey, no problem! You two take care." Peter said to them as he left. He ran around the side the building and climbed the wall to the roof. Once he was on top of it, he ran across a couple of the buildings to put some distance between himself and the dance studio.

Peter had been there before, but only once. After Ben had passed away, May had been struggling with the family's finances and had decided to sell the garage. The process of that had been painful, though Peter knew it shouldn't have been. In all honesty, Ben hadn't really liked his job. He had been good with his hands and he understood the work, but he had no real passion for it. It had been his 'backdoor career', as he had once called it. Something that was reliable, payed the bills, and put a roof over their heads. The only reason why he had decided to create his own business, rather than go work at another garage, was because Ben's inner rebel didn't want to work for someone else. The inner rebel that had wanted to be a drummer in a band but instead had been suppressed under family life and age. The inner rebel that Peter saw glimpses of every so often in his garage, jamming out to Rush and proclaiming that 'Neil Peart is the man'. If Ben had been there, he would have laughed at Peter for being so sentimental over losing that old place. Even so, he couldn't help the sorrow that he felt at losing the garage.

A few months after the venue had sold, Peter had gone by to check it out. He wasn't sure why he felt the compelled to do this. He knew that whatever he found there wouldn't be what he was looking for. Ben's garage was gone. The days that he and his Uncle had spent there only existed in his memories and pictures. As he had walked up to the building, he had been mildly surprised to see that the new business was a dance studio. He had been even more surprised to see that the inside of the studio looked very similar to how it had before when it was a garage. The new owner had constructed a wall with a wide window to look in to the large space of the studio. Months ago, cars had been parked where little girls now did jumps and turns. A ballet barre was mounted to the wall where Ben had kept his tool boxes. Through the glass, Peter could hear the classical music playing and the ballet teacher barking instructions at the girls.

"Don't land on straight legs! Plié and sauté! Plié! Plié! Bend those legs or you're gonna break your Achilles tendon!"

'Lift with your knees, Peter! Jeez, you're gonna wind up like a hunchback if keep lifting like that!'

Ben's voice floated in Peter's ear, making him feel a little winded. This place, it was different and yet the same. As much as Peter wished that he could hold those moments with Ben and freeze them in time, he knew he couldn't. Things changed, progressed, and evolved. This place was no different.

After awkwardly explaining to the secretary that he wasn't a student, that he wasn't interested in classes, and that he wasn't there to pick up his little sister, he bought a candy bar that was being sold to raise funds for costuming and he had left.

Now, Peter found himself swinging from webs, putting a few blocks of space between himself and that studio. He wasn't running away, really he wasn't. He just hadn't expected to see that place again. It had been a sudden surprise. An unexpected reminder of what he had lost. He didn't want to deal with it right now. Not when he was already feeling so lousy. Patrolling hadn't helped to clear his head like it normally did. It hadn't distracted him from his growing hunger either. It gnawed away painfully at his insides and his muscles burned from overexertion. As he swung from building to building, Peter wasn't sure what he was trying to escape. A haunting past reminder, or his present physical agony. They were both inescapable. After a short amount of time, Peter felt his grip on his webs slipping. His gloved hand slid an inch before he managed to regain his grip. Karen had felt it too.

"Peter, you do not seem to be well." She said, stating the obvious. It made Peter feel annoyed as he touched down on a roof top to catch his breath. Of course he wasn't well, but there was nothing that he could do about it! A small part of his mind knew that he was being an irrational jerk, but it was largely suppressed by the cranky and hangry part of his mind. "If you do not return home, I will be forced to alert Mr. Stark about your condition."

Peter's body ached all over. He tried to subtly lean against the outside wall of the stairwell, in order to ease some of the stress off of his joints. He felt like he had been hit by a truck. He knew it. Karen knew it. But for some inexplicable reason, he didn't want to admit that to her. A spark of annoyance flared in his chest at Karen's choice of words and her threat.

"My condition? What am I, pregnant?" He asked, his joking tone had a bit of bite to it.

"You appear to be in a fatigued condition. This could hinder your fighting ability and put you in danger." Karen replied. Her voice was as smooth as always. Not at all affected by Peter's antagonizing tone. Idly, Peter wondered if he had ever heard Karen speak in an upset or angry voice. He couldn't recall any such instance and wasn't sure if it was possible.

The sudden spark of rebellion blew out just as quickly as it had been ignited. He was tired and sore. Nothing was happening anyway, it would be fine to go home early. Peter sighed, his head dropping back with a muffled thump against the brick wall behind him. The sun was setting behind the western city skyline. If he went home now, May would likely be cooking dinner. Would it still hurt to eat? Was his sense of taste still freaking out? If it was, there would be no way of hiding this from May. Besides, they had an agreement now.

'No secrets between us. Never again.'

Guilt twisted in Peter's stomach whenever he thought of that moment in their living room, back in November. He still hadn't told her about that night when Ben died. He still couldn't bring himself to do it. But he was trying to be honest on all other issues. He would have to tell her about what happened today, even if his body fixed itself. She would want to know. With that thought in mind, Peter took a deep breath and pushed himself off of the wall.

"Yeah, okay. I'm going. No need to enact the 'tattle-tale protocol'." He grumbled, though his voice lacked the bitterness that it had had moments ago.

"It's called the 'Mayday protocol'." Karen corrected him cheerfully. Peter rolled his eyes as he stepped towards the edge of the roof.

"Same thing, Karen." Peter replied. "Tattle-tale protocol is more accurate. Being tired isn't worth an S.O.S distress call." He added, his voice sounded exasperated even to him. He had reached the edge of the roof. His arm reached out, poised to shoot a web at the building across the street. Suddenly, a bolt of nervous energy shot up his spine and his Spidey sense screeched at him.

'Danger!'

Bang!

A gun shot sounded in the alley behind him, shortly followed by an agonizing cry. Peter's head whipped around and he was sprinting for the other side of the building before he could stop to think. It was a short distance, but Peter's muscles were cramping and spasming from the effort. His breath burned his lungs as he inhaled and exhaled.

"Heat signatures suggest that there are two people in the alley." Karen informed him as Peter reached the ledge. Looking down, he saw two men on the ground. One was pointing a gun at the other, who was clearly injured. By the looks of it, he had been shot in the foot.

"This is only half! Where's the other 500?" The man with the gun waved it emphatically at the other guy, who was crouched over his bleeding foot.

"I need more time-" He said, desperation and pain making his voice come out high and squeaky.

The building that Peter stood on was not very tall. It was only two levels. Peter knew from experience that could easily land a jump from this height. He swung his body over the side and prepared to land in a crouch beside the two in the alley. Air rushed past him for half a second before he landed. He had a fleeting glance of the armed man's surprised expression before a sharp pain shot through his legs and his knees buckled. With a startled cry, Peter fell forward on to the ground.

"What the-?" A rough voice said from above him. It shifted in to a shocked laugh as Peter scrambled to pick himself up off the ground. He was on his hands and knees, when he looked up to see the man pointing his gun at him. "You're that weirdo with the spandex and webs. Get outta here, this don't concern you."

'Danger!'

Peter could feel his skin breaking out in to goose bumps as his Spidey sense bombarded him. Adrenaline pumped through him giving him enough energy to dodge the shot fired at him. He was quick, and for a moment the man looked around. Bewilderment scrunched up his face and Peter took his moment of confusion to pull the gun out of his hands. He easily crushed the weapon in his palm and tossed it aside. Both men were looking at Peter in fright. The gunman recovered first, turning on his heals to run away. The injured man quickly followed after him, though he hobbled at a much slower pace. Peter raised his hand to fire a web at the gunman. He missed. Silver webs flew past the man, about a foot to his left. Peter felt his brow scrunch in confusion. His hands were shaking. No. His whole body was shaking. His head was pounding. He aimed again at the man's retreating figure. He missed again.

"I have sent an anonymous tip to the NYPD. They will be arriving here shortly. Peter, you must leave now!" Karen snapped urgently.

Huh. So Karen could get upset. Interesting.

"Can't." Peter muttered simply. He wanted to say more, but he had no energy to do so. His brain felt disconnect from his body. The ground was moving towards him. No. Peter had fallen. A moment later, Peter realized that he was lying on the ground. His vision was growing dark in his peripheral vision. He needed to get up. The police were coming. They were on the same side, but Peter was the only one who saw it that way. He was a vigilante.

He needed to get up. He would. He just needed to close his eyes for a second…

"Kid! You with me?"

Mr. Stark. That was his voice, but it sounded far away. His voice was high and panicky. The sound of it sent a spark of worry through Peter's chest. A slight weight rested against his head. Cool metal curling around his forehead. Peter tried to open his eyes, but found that he couldn't. They were so heavy. He had to let Mr. Stark know that he was awake. That he was fine.

"Mmmhmmm." Peter mumbled, hoping that would be enough to ease the man's worry. Really, it was all he could do.

"Yeah, so that's a no." Mr. Stark grumbled lightly. Peter felt hard metal arms slip under his knees and back. His head fell to the side and landed with a soft thump against smooth cool metal. The surprise of the motion was enough to make Peter crack his eyes open on reflex. Shiny red metal filled his vision before the weight of his eyelids came crashing down. "Try to stay awake." Mr. Stark urged.

The roaring of repulsors filled the air and cold air whipped uncomfortably against Peter's body. A shiver wracked his frame and a moment later, his suit's heater started to emanate a soothing warmth. Vaguely, Peter felt bad about how he had treated Karen earlier. He made a mental note to apologize to her and to never criticize her mother-henning again. The warmth felt nice. It surrounded him like a cocoon and swaddled his brain like a blanket. His thoughts were being smothered and Peter was being pulled down…

"… run a quick test to see if there are any abnormalities."

A woman's voice, small and soft, floated through the darkness of Peter's mind.

"Step on it, Doc. I need a solid answer before Happy shows up with Joyce Byers." Mr. Stark's familiar voice cut through the void. Though his words made no sense to Peter, he couldn't help but feel relaxed. Mr. Stark was here. Everything was okay. "She's really a 'no nonsense' kind of a woman." The man added.

"Yes, I'm sure you're not at all interested in knowing the results." The woman's voice was clearer now that Peter was truly awake. It was Dr. Cho. He kept his eyes closed as he heard her retreating footsteps. It wasn't that he disliked Dr. Cho, but she wasn't who he wanted reassurance from right now.

Peter opened his eyes to see Mr. Stark sitting in a chair at his bed side.

Wait, his bed side?

Peter looked around quickly and realized with a sinking heart that he was lying in the Avengers Medical Bay. Again. Mr. Stark didn't seem to realize that Peter was awake. He was running a hand through his hair nervously and his eyes were looking vacantly at the adjacent wall. Peter recognized all the signs of Mr. Stark's 'deep-in-thought-do-not-disturb' expression. Peter felt that this was a good time to alert the man of his conscious state.

"Who's Joyce Byers?" Peter asked, his voice came out raspy so he quickly cleared his throat. Mr. Stark jumped in surprise and his head whipped around to face him.

"Oh, hey Sleeping Beauty. Damn, that stuff kicked in quick." He rambled in a jumble of words while giving a quick glance to Peter's right hand side. Peter followed Mr. Stark's line of sight and saw an IV was connected to his hand. Needles twice in one day. Ew. Peter noticed that he didn't feel faint, so whatever was dripping through the needle wasn't super crazy painkillers.

But, wait. He didn't feel faint. That didn't add up. Peter's eyes tightened as he stared at the needle in his hand. Was he only phobic of needles when they were entering his body? He felt fine now, but he was pretty sure that most people with a fear of needles couldn't stand them at all. A knot coiled in his stomach. Peter didn't want to think about it too much, so he searched for a change of subject.

"Who's Joyce Byers?" Peter asked again, raising his eyes to meet Mr. Stark's. There was a twinkle of amusement in them though he tried to dismiss it with a nonchalant wave of his hand.

"No one. Don't worry about it."

Peter frowned at that. Joyce Byers. That name was familiar. He thought for another moment before it came to him. Oh, she was that character on 'Stranger Things'. Will's Mom. Fiercely protective of her kids and always fighting for them. Peter thought she was truly a model example of a 'Mother of the Year', even if her high-strung anxiety was a bit grating at times.

All of a sudden it clicked.

"Were you talking about May?" Peter asked. As confirmation, Mr. Stark's badly concealed amusement grew in to a smirk. "Oh, c'mon. She's not that bad." He added defensively.

"Mmmm, I don't know, Kid. Pretty sure that she's one step closer to making a Christmas lights Ouija board wall every time you wind up here." Mr. Stark's tone was casual, but Peter could sense the tension building inside of him. "Speaking of which, why don't you go ahead and tell me what the hell happened today. Karen tells me that you were refusing to stop and eat, which I find baffling, what with you being a human garbage disposal and all."

Peter dropped his eyes down to his lap and his shoulders sagged in shame. He nervously curled his toes in the sheet of his bed. Where to begin? Everything had gone wrong so quickly. He should have immediately called Mr. Stark and told him what was wrong. But, once again, he didn't think things through. This might have all been preventable if he got help sooner.

"Hey," Mr. Stark's voice interrupted his train of thought. A heavy hand landed on Peter's shoulder causing him to look up at the man. Mr. Stark's brow was tight as he regarded him with a severe expression. "Is this a self-image thing?" He asked hesitantly.

Peter's mind took a moment to process the implication of Mr. Stark's words.

Oh.

"What? No." Peter denied quickly. "Mr. Stark, I didn't suddenly become anorexic since the last time you saw me eat a large pizza by myself."

"Oh, good." Mr. Stark sighed in relief, like a man who had just dodged a bullet. Peter wondered what he had planned to say to him if he really did have an eating disorder. Mr. Stark wasn't exactly well known for his sensitivity. "So what happened?" Mr. Stark asked, more at ease now that the worst possible answer had been eliminated from the possibilities. "Karen had to call me because you fainted after hitting the wall."

"Actually, I hit the ground." Peter replied with a grin, trying to break the tension with some humour. Mr. Stark looked like it was taking all of his will power to not roll his eyes at his terrible joke.

"Your body ran out of glycogen." He clarified, unnecessarily. "And it seems to me that this whole fiasco was completely avoidable. So spill."

A moment passed in silence while Peter collected his thoughts. Mr. Stark shifted in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I think the vaccinations that my school was giving out today had a weird effect on me." He blurted out suddenly. Mr. Stark's eyebrows rose, seemingly of their own accord. It wasn't often that Peter saw the man look so shocked. Clearly, that wasn't one of the scenarios that Mr. Stark had anticipated. "Like, I think it was fine for normal people, but it interacted badly with my mutation." He clarified. A beat of silence passed and Peter watched Mr. Stark's expression shift from shocked to skeptical.

"Nope." Mr. Stark said abruptly, shaking his head slightly. Peter stared at him, confused by his denial.

"What?"

Mr. Stark sighed and leaned back in to his chair and regarded Peter with a serious look.

"Before your Aunt signed the waiver, she came to us to ask if something like that could happen." Mr. Stark explained. "Helen ran extensive testing on the blood samples we have on file. The only problem you should have is burning through the vaccine quicker than a normal person."

"Oh." Peter said. He was a little shocked that so much had gone on behind the scenes, without his knowledge. He wasn't sure what to say after that. Something had happened to him. It's not like his brain could have imagined all of that pain, right? The possibility existed that that was the case. Peter's heart fluttered in freight, so he changed the subject. "So how often do I need to get booster shots?"

"Helen thinks you'll need to get them every two and a half years." Mr. Stark said. Peter noticed that his gaze had become more concerned. Some of his freight must have shown on his face. "What kind of 'bad interaction' are we talking about?" He added wearily.

"My sense of taste freaked out." Peter admitted. His stomach gave a pang of pain at the reminder and Peter reflexively placed a hand on his abdomen. "I couldn't eat anything after the shots cause it hurt so bad."

Mr. Stark's face became pinched with worry and his eyes narrowed with intense focus. Peter knew that he wasn't looking at him anymore, but rather through him. The problem solver in him had taken over, but he didn't have all of the variables to formulate an answer.

"That shouldn't have happened…" Mr. Stark trailed off before standing abruptly. Before Peter could ask where he was going, he darted out of the Medical Bay. Peter just stared after him, wondering if he had said something wrong. After a few minutes he returned with an apple in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He casually tossed the apple at Peter, who caught it in mid-air. "What about now?" He prompted while placing the water on the table next to Peter's bed.

Peter turned the apple a few times nervously in his hands. He was so hungry, but he was dreading the pain that was sure to follow. Gathering his courage, he took a large bite. The sweet and tart juice spread over his tongue as he chewed. His shoulders sagged in relief as the pain never came. Instead, a sort of numb tingling sensation lit up his taste buds.

"Still feels kinda weird, but it doesn't hurt." Peter said, his words garbled by the chunks of apple. A wave of relief washed over Peter as he quickly devoured the rest of the apple. This wasn't permanent. It was going away. Peter was surprised to see that Mr. Stark didn't seem to be any happier about the situation. He paced a couple of feet away from Peter's bed and was rubbing a hand over his goatee.

Just then, the door to the Med Bay opened and Dr. Cho appeared, looking over a tablet in her hands as she walked in. Mr. Stark turned his attention to her as soon as she entered.

"Hey, Dr. Cho." Peter called. Dr. Cho glanced up to find Peter smiling and waving at her from his bed.

"Hello, Peter. How are you feeling?" She asked as she started to walk towards his bedside. Peter could sense the litany of doctor-y questions about to be thrown at him. He mentally started to prepare the long list of generic responses: yes, I'm fine. No, I don't have any aches or pains. No, my head doesn't feel fuzzy. 4 X 12 = 48. Etcetera. Before he had a chance to answer her first question, Mr. Stark answered for him.

"He says that the Tdap and Meningococcal vaccinations had a bad effect on his spliced genetics." He said quickly, cutting to the chase. He took a few strides so that they stood within a few feet of each other. "So tell me what'cha got, Helen. What's the word?"

Dr. Cho's professional demeanor didn't budge an inch, however the silence that followed Mr. Stark's question was enough make Peter's heart beat faster in panic.

"Well, that's just the problem. There is no trace of either of those vaccinations in Peter's blood."

Peter sat rigidly in his bed. He wondered, briefly, if there would ever be a time when his mutation would stop throwing curve balls at him. Those vaccines last for 10 years in a normal person. How the hell did his mutation manage to burn through it in less than 24 hours?

"I burned through it that fast?" He asked. His voice came out high and squeaky but he was too freaked out to feel embarrassed by it.

"No. You never received them. The adverse reaction you had was caused by a sedative." Dr. Cho explained, her voice gentle and calm. Peter's whole body froze. He couldn't breathe. It was as if all of the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. Mr. Stark had also gone very still. His skin looked pale. Without waiting for any prompting, Dr. Cho continued to explain the situation. "Whoever created the sedative made it powerful enough to handle your metabolism, however it is obvious that they didn't have access to any of your personal medical records. Otherwise it wouldn't have affected you negatively-".

"Hold on," Peter interrupted, finally finding his voice. "So what you're saying is that the nurse gave me a sedative instead of my vaccinations?". He could breathe now, but it was all wrong. His breaths were shallow and choppy. A million questions rattled around in his brain, fighting for dominance. He couldn't grasp one. "What? Why would she-?"

Peter was painfully focused on his panic and at the same time also detached from it. The sound of his rattling breathes filled his ears, blocking out everything else. He could feel a sharp pain in his chest, like a bee flying around in a bass drum. At the same time, his mind was caught in a loop of unanswerable question fragments. A warm weight settled around his shoulders, grounding Peter slightly. Mr. Stark was sitting beside him, seemingly having materialized out of nowhere.

"Deep breaths, Pete. In and out."

Peter tried. He really did. It was impossible. His throat was closing up and his chest muscles were starting to ache from the effort.

"Can't" He wheezed. A warm and calloused hand wrapped around his. Mr. Stark placed his palm over his chest.

"Yes, you can." He affirmed, his voice strong and sure. "Like this" He added while drawing deep breathes. Peter felt Mr. Stark's chest rise and fall steadily under his palm. There was something in the man's sure confidence that started to ease Peter's mind. Mr. Stark was calm. If he was calm, then Peter could be calm. Everything would be alright. That realization took a bit of the edge off of his fear and halted his escalating panic.

"Peter, I want you to focus on some details in this room." Dr. Cho's voice calmly instructed. It startled Peter a bit. In his panic, the world had shrunk until it only encapsulated himself and Mr. Stark. He had nearly forgot that she was there as well. "What is something that you can see or feel?" She asked.

Peter took a moment. While matching Mr. Stark's deep breathes with his own, he focused on his senses. He could feel, under the pads of his pinky, ring, and middle fingers, raised and bumpy skin in a curved shape. Like the partial edge of a circle.

"Mr. Stark has a scar."

Mr. Stark's chest rumbled as a startled laugh burst from his mouth. Peter realized, a moment too late, how creepy that must've sounded. Despite his embarrassment, Mr. Stark's laugh did more to calm Peter's nerves than anything else. He could feel a slight blush colour his cheeks as he retracted his hand from Mr. Stark's chest. Mr. Stark's arm remained securely around his shoulders. It's warmth and weight made Peter feel safe.

"Yeah, well, when you mix man with machine, you tend to get a bit banged up in the process." Mr. Stark said. Peter knew without looking that Mr. Stark was smiling. "Tell me something good, Helen." He added in a more serious tone.

"The sedative is almost completely out of his system and there are no other abnormalities in his blood."

Peter sighed a shuddering breath and, in response, Mr. Stark's arm tightened. Peter could feel Mr. Stark's body turn to face him. His arm pulled away from his shoulders, but his hand remained on the juncture between his shoulder and neck. His thumb rubbed soothingly against his spine. Peter glanced up and was met with a grave expression.

"I know your scared, but I need you to focus up, Pete." He said in a strained voice. "That nurse, do you remember anything about her? Physical appearance? Name? Anything helps."

Peter took a deep breath and search his memory, trying to recall every possible detail that he could think of.

"Her nurse ID thing, the one they wear on a lanyard, said 'Claire Stephens'." He began. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to recall her exact image in his mind's eye. "She looked like she was in her 30s. Tall and thin. She had super wild and curly brown hair with purple streaks. She had white framed glasses. They were shaped like octagons. And her eyes were… hazel. I think."

Mr. Stark's hand gave one last squeeze on his shoulder and Peter felt his bed shift as he got off of it.

"FRIDAY?" Mr. Stark called expectantly. Peter opened his eyes to see the man staring expectantly out in to the larger area of the Medical Bay.

"I ran a search of all 'Claire Stephens' living in the state of New York. There are four women by that name, but none of them are nurses or match Peter's description."

Mr. Stark cursed under his breath.

"Broaden your search to include all of the United States." He ordered. "Also, get me the security camera footage from Midtown High School."

Peter felt his eyebrows raise. Could he really access those? Peter wasn't sure how far Mr. Stark's influence ran, but he was pretty sure that the school wouldn't allow him to see their security footage. Not to mention, if he did request permission to view them, that would open a whole can of worms as to why he want to see them.

"Accessing that footage is in violation of-"

"I don't want to hear it FRI!" Mr. Stark barked. Peter sat in stunned silence. Oh, okay. So he wasn't asking for permission. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw Dr. Cho take her leave. Apparently, she didn't want to be present when Mr. Stark started breaking the law. Or at least harshly bending it. "Get me all of the footage from today. Get me the past couple of days, while you're at it."

A few seconds passed while FRIDAY carried out her orders. The room was so quiet. Peter was hyper aware of every little sound and sensation. Mr. Stark's forcibly calm breathing. The air conditioning in the room turning off, halting the air circulation in the room. It was as if the Med Bay itself was also holding its breath.

Now that Peter had managed to ride out his anxiety attack, a sort of eerie calm had washed over him. He could think clearly now and could grasp the full magnitude of the situation.

Someone was after him.

Someone knew he was Spider-Man, or at least knew he was a mutant. That was the only explanation he could think of to explain why someone would go through such lengths to get to him. A shudder wracked Peter's frame. He felt violated. Someone had knocked him unconscious. Someone he didn't know. Someone with unknown motives. They could have done anything to him. Peter's stomach turned. There was only an apple in his stomach, but he felt like he was going to be sick.

"The only image of the woman in the past week's footage is this." FRIDAY said while projecting grainy footage of the school's office. In it, the six nurses and the other medical personnel assisting them were signing in at the office. Peter could see the face of every person, except one. The woman was subtly hiding her face from all of the school's cameras. "She seemed to be aware of where the cameras were and was careful to hide her face from them." The AI added.

Peter felt his stomach drop. He took a few more deep breathes. In through his nose, out through his mouth.

"She knows who I am." Peter stated in a weak voice. He had said it aloud, and his fear felt so much more real and tangible now. Mr. Stark turned to look at him, his eyes softening as they met Peter's. "She knows I'm Spider-Man." He continued as Mr. Stark walked back to his bed side again. Behind him, the projection disappeared. "Why would she do this to me?" Peter's voice broke near the end and tears stung at his eyes.

Mr. Stark was sitting beside him again. His side pressed against Peter's and arms wrapped around his torso. There was a subtle amount of strength in his embrace. Like his arms were holding together something on the verge of shattering. His head was tucked under Mr. Stark's chin, his eyes pressed into the hollow of his neck. Mr. Stark said nothing. He just sat and held him until Peter could compose himself. Gradually, the burning in his eyes receded. Peter began to pull away from Mr. Stark, who remained sitting next to him. The man was staring at him with a serious gaze.

"I'm guessing that she wanted some blood samples." Mr. Stark said, his own voice wavering slightly. "She must've known that this was her best opportunity to get it without me knowing about it."

Peter felt fatigue crashing down on him. It was all too much. In his tired haze, Peter suddenly manage to connect the dots.

"All of this took a lot of planning. She must've known about me for a long time." He stated, a horrible realization dawning upon him. "Mr. Toomes is still locked up, right?" He asked wearily. Mr. Stark's gaze grew hard as he followed Peter's train of thought.

"Yes. He's not getting out." He replied harshly. Despite Mr. Stark's certainty, Peter could feel a knot of worry growing in his stomach. Mr. Stark's exhaled sharply and ran a hand over his eyes. His demeanor suddenly became less angry and more determined. "You're staying here tonight." He added. Peter looked in dismay around the Medical Bay. He hated sleeping here, and in all honesty, there was no need for it. He was emotionally wrecked, but physically fine.

"But I feel fine-"

"I know. I don't mean 'stay here in the Med Bay'. I mean 'stay here at the compound in your room'." Mr. Stark clarified. "I'll talk you're Aunt into staying too. Here is much safer than your apartment."

An invisible weight fell of Peter. Staying in his room, which had become like a second home, was much more appealing than staying in the Medical Bay. But then a thought crossed his mind. The compound was about an hour-long drive from Midtown. He had school in the morning.

"What about school?"

"We'll call you in sick tomorrow." Mr. Stark said, exasperation colouring his tone. Peter frowned at that. He didn't like the idea of missing school. He had a commitment to MJ and their project. "I don't want you to leave the compound until we have air tight security protecting you out there." Mr. Stark added, gesturing with one hand towards the windows. Peter knew he meant the world.

The world that he was no longer safe in. The thought really put things in to perspective.

"Okay." Peter agreed in a small voice.

"Also, you're benched until we get this sorted out. No patrolling until we've caught whoever is behind all of this." Mr. Stark said, his voice ringing in finality. Peter felt himself go cold. This all felt horribly familiar. He couldn't give up being Spider-Man. His city needed him. He looked after his neighbourhood. Being Spider-Man gave him purpose and value in life.

"What? Mr. Stark, I can't just-"

"This isn't a discussion, Peter!" Mr. Stark snapped at him. Peter flinched and dropped his eyes to his lap. But not before catching a glimpse of Mr. Stark's horrified expression. A second later, Mr. Stark's hand was on his shoulder. He looked up and Mr. Stark leveled his with a softer look. "I get your whole 'looking out for the little guy' bleeding heart philosophy. You want to help people, and that's very admirable. But you also need to look after yourself. There is someone out there that could hurt you. Who has hurt you. We have no leads on this person's real identity. We don't know if they will try to hurt you again. Now is the time to keep your head down and not go looking for trouble."

There it was, all laid out on a table. All the facts were present. What they knew, or rather what they didn't know. Peter couldn't deny that it was smart to take a break.

But that wasn't the only reason. Peter didn't want to admit it, didn't want to make it real by giving voice to it. He was strong. He was Spider-Man. But also, he was Peter Parker. And he was afraid.

"Okay." Peter agreed with a small nod of his head. The hand on his shoulder relaxed and Mr. Stark breathed a sigh. This caught Peter by surprise. He hadn't realized that the man cared so much about his input and decision. Mr. Stark had given him an order, not a request. But maybe… it was both? He didn't want to stop being Spider-Man, even if was just for a short amount of time. But still, that dread grew in his stomach. Like a black hole that was sucking away his courage. It would collapse him from the inside. "Mr. Stark?" he asked in a trembling voice. "I'm scared."

Mr. Stark's hand tightened and drew him closer to his side.

"Don't be." He said firmly. "I'm never gonna let anything happen to you."

Peter wanted to believe that. He wanted to feel as assured as he did the first time Mr. Stark had made him that promise. Unlike that day in the Medical Bay, months ago, when he was recovering from electrocution, he didn't feel safe. The danger wasn't ambiguous anymore. It wasn't a potential threat. It was real. Someone was out there, hiding the world. Someone could take everything from him. May. Ned. MJ. Mr. Stark. His life.

"I got you." Mr. Stark murmured. A knot tightened in Peter's throat.

Yes. Yes he did.

AN: And there you have it. A nice LOOOOOOOOOOOONG chapter to kick off the finale. This fic is wrapping up soon. I plan to have the last chapter done before 'Endgame' comes out.