Chapter Six:
"Dude, are you okay? You look like you got ran over by a truck." Ned's voice is laced with concern, but there's also a slight impressed note thrown in as well. Impressed with how wiped out and dead he looks. Yeah, well, he feels like he got ran over by a truck. A large one, carrying logs and a great deal of water. It was heavy, and it hurt.
He grimaces despite himself and tugs the edges of his jacket sleeves over his palms.
Peter flicks his gaze up and shrugs slightly, stabbing his fork into the sandwich present on his plate then continues the circles that the bread has been spinning for minutes on end now. Round and round it goes.
Lunch break has finally hit and though Peter missed breakfast because he accidentally slept in a little from attempting to finish the large pile of homework, he's not hungry. His stomach feels oddly disorienting and twisted, like he has a sponge shoved in it taking away hunger pangs but leaving him feeling awkwardly stuffed.
He hates homework.
He is never going to get it done and fail all his classes because of it.
"Long week." Peter admits at last.
Long week is beyond and understatement. He accidentally found and kidnapped the missing princes of Asgard, and now, a week to the day since that, he's being stuffed back into school and having to catch up on more homework than he honestly cares to think about. If he was given a choice, Peter probably would have just chosen to keep going to school because he hates make-up work, but he wasn't. Quarantine sucks.
Ned's eyes widen with understanding, and his lips part to state something, but Peter pointedly turns his head towards MJ who's sitting on Ned's left, face stuffed into a book. She confronted him with her suspicion of his alter-ego about a month ago now, and it's relieving to not have to awkwardly have a conversation about Spider-Man, but...not at the same time. He's never worried about her telling anyone, and she's given her full support for his actions.
The one thing that she was firm about, though, was that she thinks it's a stupid idea to talk about Spider-Man at school. Peter and Ned put their best effort into avoiding the subject since then and it's helped ease Peter's anxiety about his identity being overheard. Ned is fully capable of keeping a secret, but sometimes he gets over excited and things come blurting out.
MJ, is not, however, aware of the whole Peter-and-Ned-kidnapped-and/or-found-the-lost-princes-of-Asgard thing. Not on purpose, it's just in the midst of everything that was happening, Peter just...forgot. He would have texted her, but MJ rarely has her phone on so he didn't see a point. He has plans to tell her, just not now, and it would be nice if Ned didn't go blurting it out to anyone within earshot.
Huh. Yeah, that would go over well in a really sarcastic way: "What was that Ned?" "Oh—sorry Mr. Elke, yeah, Peter's also Spider-Man and works with the Avengers on a freelance basis." "Wow, really? Ain't that neat! I'm going to tweet that!"
MJ chooses this moment to look up, her brown hair framing her face and lips thinned. She squints at him, as if seeing him for the first time then glances at Ned, then back to him. Peter hates it when she does her...thing, her stare-into-your-soul-and-find-all-your-deepest-secrets thing. Honestly. He prefers to keep as many layers to cover it as he can.
"When was the last time you slept?" MJ's voice is monotone, but he can pick out the edges of concern laced within it. Ah...what is today? Tuesday? Yeah, that sounds about right. So, maybe Sunday. Peter's silence is enough of an answer for MJ and she raises a cryptic eyebrow. "I see." Her expression is level with her obvious disapproval.
Peter makes a sheepish face and rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly with discomfort. The cafeteria is loud and suddenly Peter is highly aware of that fact. People are talking and there's the weird smell from the kitchens that is supposed to be a lunch offering, but could easily mimic the smell of Uranus.
"Um." He stutters, "I just...you know—been busy with the Stark internship and such."
Sort of.
MJ's eyebrow arches further up on her face. She closes her book and rests it on the table, giving them both her full attention. Which is swell. Yay. Hoorah. She stares between the two of them, then tilts her head slightly. "Does this have something to do with Avengers Tower being on unofficial lockdown the last few days?"
What?
How does she know about that?
Peter blanches with surprise and shares a glance with Ned. "How do you know about that?" Ned demands.
MJ flicks a finger out towards another table, and Peter quickly whirls with dread in his stomach to stare back at it. The table has several cheerleaders and sportsy people. He doesn't know the names of all of them, but there's a few that he does recognize. Liz, Flash, a girl named Sarah, Flash's best friend Eddie, and Harry Osborn.
Peter nearly doubletakes at the sight of the redhead at the table to make sure he's not hallucinating this. The Harry Osborn, not some impersonator, but the actual human being. Harry's the only son of Norman and his late wife, Emily, who died during his birth. Not much is known about Harry, his father keeps him well out of the paparazzis way and the only pictures of him are from public events. Still, Peter knows of him because he follows his father's research. He was also the guide in the tour where Peter got bit by the spider. He seemed a little shy, but nice enough.
What the heck is he doing at Midtown?
And, to make matters worse, Peter's pretty sure MJ's finger is pointing at him.
Sure enough, a second later she adds, "Harry."
Ned's expression raises with disbelief. "Harry. As in Harry Osborn?"
She must be kidding. MJ makes an affirmative noise in her throat. "Yep."
Peter runs a hand through his hair and turns back to her, "What is he doing here?"
MJ's eyebrows lower with slight confusion before they clear, "Ah. Right, you were on sick leave the last few days. He transferred here last Wednesday."
Wednesday!?
MJ shrugs, "Anyway, he and I talk sometimes. He's cool. Anyway, his dad keeps tabs on SI, they're competitive companies—you know, the whole stalking the other out till they collapse thing. Oscorp hasn't made much headway 'cause Miss Potts' is in charge and the world is ending the day someone beats that woman in court."
Very true.
Pepper is terrifying when she wants to be.
Like, if she was voted president, the U.S. would get their butt handed to them easily and whip themselves into shape while pleading for mercy. He's not even joking, he's seen her do things when the Avengers are being idiots. Okay, one time, but still.
Peter's mind re-routes what they were talking about, carefully parses it, then comes to a halt. "Oscorp's been stalking them?"
MJ's lips thin and she gives a nod. "Harry didn't sound super happy about it."
But if they've been watching, do they know?
Asgard has been searching for their princes for years, anyone who holds them has the planet in their mercy. You could potentially rule Asgard by wielding the two and the thought is more terrifying when Peter finally puts it into words. No one is supposed to know what he found. What about the plague—do they know about that, too?
"Shouldn't that be illegal?" Ned queries.
MJ shrugs, "Probably. Hasn't really stopped anyone before, though."
Okay, fair, but still, that doesn't make it right. Peter makes a noise in the back of his throat, but he's not quite certain what it means and MJ releases a quiet breath at it. Peter wraps his arms around his stomach and stares at MJ urgently.
"Did he say anything else?" He asks.
He's not certain if he wants an answer.
MJ shakes her head, "No, we don't know each other well enough." Her gaze rests on the redhead once more, Peter and Ned following her gaze. MJ's lips curve down slightly. Flash says something that Peter can't make out among the roar of the students and the table laughs at it, but Harry's looks oddly strained. "He seemed pretty desperate to talk to me." MJ notes, her voice soft, "I think he's lonely."
Yeah. The longer he stares, the more he agrees with her. MJ's always been perceptive, and it's finally something he can see for himself. Sympathy builds in him for the Osborn.
Peter's phone buzzes abruptly, snapping him from the revere and he flicks his gaze down to his pocket, dragging the mobile from within. He turns on the screen and sees that the text is from Mr. Stark. His chest leaps in anticipation at the words: You busy later?
Yes, he is.
School is going to kill him if it gets even a small smidgen of its' way—and, beyond that, he hasn't gone patrolling for a few nights now and he needs to check up on his city. But that can wait, Mr. Stark can't. He buries this and replies with: Nope. What time?
000o000
School passes fairly quickly. Peter's not certain if it's his strong desire to not do any homework that is making the passage of time warp, or something else. Probably the former. He's not the first person out of the school when the bell rings, briefly engaging in conversation with his English teacher a paper's extension date and when he exits the school, it's not exactly empty, but the bulk of the crowd waiting for rides is missing.
Mr. Stark said that he'd send someone to come and get him—he wasn't specific on who, but Peter's guessing Happy—and they'd be here little after three thirty. He doesn't see the familiar car when he walks to the outer edge of the sidewalk and flicks a glance down at his phone. It's not quite on the half hour mark yet, so he's still got a few minutes to kill. MJ and Ned already left for home, MJ has a family thing that she needs to take care of and Ned has to go pick up his sister from ballet.
After a few more minutes have passed, Peter sits on the curb and tugs out his math assignment beginning to work through the problems when he hears footsteps. He flicks his gaze up in surprise and hope, but it isn't Happy. Or Mr. Stark. It's a tallish man with dark red hair in a black two piece suit with sunglasses on his face. His spider sense, however, vaguely tingles in the back of his neck, wary, but not outright blaring as it's been prone to the last few days.
The man stands still for a second, staring at him before tugging off his sunglasses. "You're Peter Parker, right?" His voice is deep, but surprisingly familiar. It takes Peter a second to place him and when he does, his stomach leaps into his throat. After meeting Tony Stark, Director Coulson, the Avengers and a handful of other famous people, Peter's pretty sure that he should be used to it by now. He's not. Nope.
His eyebrows shoot to his hairline and he slams the math textbook shut on his lap with surprise, "Ah, yeah," he agrees quickly shoving his distorted messy school supplies into his backpack and rising to his feet awkwardly shooting his hand out for a shake.
Norman Osborn takes it with ease and smiles. It feels strangely twisted and insincere. His spider sense hums louder at the contact and Peter attempts to stuff it to the side. It's been ringing endlessly for days now and he's not certain how to shut it up. He wishes it would quiet. It's hard to think with it being so paranoid.
Peter pulls his hand back warily. "I'm sorry, Sir, but can I ask how you knew that?"
Mr. Osborn laughs slightly, the stupid fake adult laugh that old people do when they're trying to gain your trust but don't know how to go about it quite right. Peter hates the laugh. Mr. Toomes would do that stupid laugh when Peter finally begged to be let out of the room and—
"Well, who wouldn't, Mr. Parker?" Mr. Osborn says cheerfully, yet his eyes lack the mirth. "You're a very promising child."
He's not a child.
He's sixteen.
Peter holds his tongue and is suddenly inclined to give into his spider senses dislike for the man. Mr. Osborn clears his throat and straights his pristine tie, "Yes, indeed. I have been meaning to contact you—you'll have to forgive my tardiness I've been...ah, busy."
Yeah. Peter imagines so. How the heck does he know who he is? Peter isn't exactly a public figure. Mr. Stark does his best to keep their interactions as much of a secret as they can to avoid this type of attention. They don't need anyone else making the dots between Peter and Spider-Man like Phil Coulson of S.H.I.E.L.D. did.
Peter makes a slight noise, "No worries, Mr. Osborn." He assures. Does he call him Mr. Osborn? What—!? That is such a stupid question. What else is he supposed to call him, be calm, alright?
Mr. Osborn leans back, pleased, "Yes, good. Ah, it occurs to me that I don't mean to startle you. I've seen Stark's interest in you and was curious as to what would could possibly draw his attention about a teenager so I did a little digging. I must say, I'm impressed; your academic skills are well above your peers."
Okay.
That's great.
Peter has never wished for Happy to arrive faster. He doesn't know what it is about this man that makes him so uncomfortable.
"I've been meaning to contact you to offer a job at Oscorp."
Peter blinks with surprise, reeling back slightly. What?
Oscorp. Oscorp.
This is beyond insane—bordering well into the dreaming category.
As Peter struggles to wrap his mind around this, Harry arrives looking mildly disheveled and a backpack swung over his shoulders. His green eyes flick back and forth between the two of them for a second before he turns to his father. "Sorry I'm late, Dad. The principal wanted to discuss something with me."
"I hope it's not about your grades again Harry; I won't put you into another private school to see your academic levels slipping again. Midtown was supposed to be a fresh start, son." Mr. Osborn says sharply.
"It is." Harry insists, sounding strangely desperate. "I promise."
Mr. Osborn hums knowingly and turns back to Peter flipping a card from his pocket and handing it out to him. His spider sense whirls in discomfort, snapping Peter from his shocked state. Mr. Osborn's eyes are alight with something that can only be referred to as "glee". "This is my secretary's contact information, give me a call when you decide to take me up on my offer."
'When'?
Despite his earlier surprise, he's really not interested. He has a future at SI—and not just because he knows Mr. Stark, though it does help. Still. SI does things to help people, Oscorp's main function is GMO, which isn't something that Peter's awfully keen on.
"What?" Harry says in confusion, "What offer?"
Mr. Osborn gives a small sigh and glances at his son, "This is Peter Parker, he's the type of pupil I hope you'll be one day. He's the answer I've been searching for to help with my project."
Harry's lips thin with discomfort and Mr. Osborn all but shoves the card into Peter's hand. The cardstock looks no different than others he's seen, but it's strangely tainted. What is up with this man? He doesn't understand half of what his spider sense is warning him of (he rarely does), but it's unusual for it to be this picky.
Mr. Osborn smiles in Peter's direction and swings a arm across his son's shoulders, "Come, Harry, the car is waiting. Mr. Parker, it was a pleasure to at last meet you." The two walk off down the sidewalk and Peter flicks the card up to read at the text. What project is he talking about? A pleasure? Yeah, well, he can't say the feeling was mutual.
Happy's familiar car pulls up along the curb at last and he sighs quietly to himself, snapping his jaw shut and stuffing the card hastily into his jacket pocket. He doesn't know why, but he has little desire to speak of the encounter to anyone.
Peter opens the passenger door as the car comes to a halt and slips inside the vehicle.
000o000
Nearly a hour and a half later, Peter steps into the medical room where Thor and Loki are residing. He hasn't seen them since the whole snake-thing nearly two days ago (only two? It feels like years, but it's barely been what? Thirty hours?), but they don't look much better now then they did then. Thor is a little less pale and dressed in some loose clothing, but the bandages on his face are still present and freshly replaced. Loki's fingers are wrapped thickly with a brownish medical tape and though his hair is cleaner and he too has changed clothing, he doesn't look any less exhausted.
Mr. Stark, behind him, closes the door and shifts to where Dr. Banner is reviewing something on a laptop, asking something about lichtenbergs. Peter ignores them to the best of his ability and rocks on his heels slightly. He and Mr. Stark had briefly been worked with the suit's schematics for a few minutes before Peter asked to see the two and Mr. Stark had agreed, trailing him up here.
Loki tilts his head slightly, staring. Thor gives a tight smile and waves him forward. Peter suddenly, desperately, wishes for the ability to overcome social awkwardness as he swings his backpack off his shoulder onto one of the chairs present in the white room and moves forward.
Peter reaches the space between the two hospital beds, separated by a bedside table and Loki's IV, and turns towards Thor gesturing towards the end of the bed, "Do you mind if I…?"
"No," Thor assures, though his gaze doesn't really agree with his statement.
Peter ignores it and takes the seat, folding his legs in next to his knees in a butterfly position and flicks his gaze between the two siblings, "You're looking better. Can I get you anything?"
Loki carefully shifts onto his side, grimacing lightly as he does so and waves the IV line out of the way looking mildly irritated at it. He tugs some of his hair from his face and shares a look with his sibling that Peter can only interpret as bland confusion.
"No." Loki says attentivly.
"You sure?"
"Yes."
"'Kay." Peter agrees, playing with his fingers for a second, gosh he is terrible at this. "Sorry, I don't mean to intrude on...whatever it was you were doing, I just wanted to make sure they hadn't killed you yet."
Thor's eyebrows raise, "You feared they would dispose of us while you were gone?"
What?
"Whoa, okay, no," Peter says and lifts up his hands mentally kicking himself. Thor and Loki take anything said to them and parse it to ridiculous lengths, Peter isn't used to it. Agh, what does he say to pick this back together. "Expression." He blurts out. Not really, but it's the only thing he can think of. It was supposed to be funny.
Loki and Thor share another glance.
Peter rubs at the back of his neck, "Yeah, sorry, I keep forgetting you guys aren't from Earth. I'd say aliens, but it sounds just as rude out loud as it did in my head so, yep. I mean really, you guys probably have other expression-stuff-things that I would get confused at, so don't feel bad for this. I mean, really, Asgard is another planet so yeah. Um." Peter slams his jaw shut, mildly embarrassed. He hates it when his tongue runs away like that. Sometimes he can't get himself to shut up.
By some mercy granted to him from on high, neither Loki or Thor look offended. They don't reply, though, remaining quiet and watching him.
Peter presses his lips together, uncomfortable, "Right," he says quietly to himself and slips off of the mattress moving to his backpack to gather his homework out and a pencil. He manages to finish the rough draft of his essay, most of the studying for his chemistry test next week (midterms suck) and is well on his way into math when, in a brief moment where Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark are quiet, Loki tilts his head towards him.
"What are you doing?"
Peter shrugs slightly, "Um, school work."
Loki's eyebrows lower with slight confusion, "You are doing...is this for the learning halls?"
The learning what?
"Do you mean school?" Peter questions and sees an infinitesimal nod in response, but there's still the confusion. "Yeah, I am. See," Peter lifts up the math page so both of them can see, "we do the work outside of school. It's kind of a pain the butt because no one really thinks about how little time teenagers will actually devote to doing it—but, well, that's their problem."
"I see." Thor says, his expression is intrigued, "This is basic algebraic equations."
Peter flicks his gaze up to the Asgardian, surprised, "basic?" he repeats with surprise. He's not on the most advanced level of math there is out there, but the way he said it makes it seem like Asgardian six-year-olds know how to use the quadratic formula.
Before Thor or Loki can answer, Mr. Stark stands from where he and Dr. Banner have been discussing something for nearly an hour, his phone in hand.
Mr. Stark moves towards the two siblings. Loki lifts his gaze up from where it was perched on the far wall and Thor, who slipped into a light doze, blinks himself into awareness. He waves the device in front of them, "Dr. Foster just texted me, she says that she and her assistant are going to be here within an hour."
Thor visually perks, his expression filling with relief and Peter allows a soft smile at the sight of it.
The next hour passes swiftly. Loki and Thor seem to be utterly fascinated by his homework and Loki borrows Peter's history textbook and happily delves into its depths for the remainder of the wait. Thor seems equally intrigued and asks questions rarely, but for the most part looks content to watch Peter.
It's strange, but not exactly unnerving.
It's well into seventy minutes from when Tony made his announcement that Peter lifts his head in the direction of the hallway, momentarily flicking his gaze to the siblings to see them doing the same. Voices are ringing like softly dangling bells and Peter can make out Mr. Stark's and Captian Rogers', along with two unfamiliar female.
The door opens abruptly and Captain Rogers and Mr. Stark walk into the room swiftly a figure stopping in the doorway. Thor exhales softly as he lays eyes on her and Peter flicks his gaze between the two several times.
Dr. Foster stands in the doorway for a long second, her breath catching in her throat. Her auburn hair is tucked back into a high ponytail and she's wearing a shirt based from Disney's Frozen and she's tucked beneath a light jacket. She has a large purse around her shoulders as well, but as for what's inside of it is anyone's guess. She's shorter in person than Peter was expecting.
Beside her is another woman, the assistant if Peter's guessing correctly, whose glasses are crooked on her face, but her expression is soft. Her dark hair is laying across her shoulders and she's hidden beneath a hoodie, her hands stuffed into her pockets.
Dr. Foster shifts forward after a second and rapidly moves across the room. When she reaches Thor, she leans forward and wraps him in a hug. Thor relaxes into her embrace, burying his head into her shoulder and gripping her back equally furiously. Neither looks like they want to let go.
"I thought you weren't coming back." Dr. Foster whispers, it's so faint that without his enhanced hearing, Peter would have missed it completely.
"Know that it was not by my choice to make you wait, Jane." Thor answers in return, his voice equally soft and gentle.
Dr. Foster pulls back at length and Peter sees her quickly scrub the edge of her jacket sleeve over her cheeks. Her head flickers towards Loki who is sitting still, watching them and she lingers at Thor's side for only a second longer before the astrophysicist crosses the distance between them and embraces Loki.
Peter's eyes widen slightly.
Loki's spine lurches uncomfortably and he doesn't return the hug. Dr. Foster doesn't seem the mind this and holds him for a moment longer before drawing back. Loki stares up at her, his expression puzzled.
She offers a hesitant laugh in response, "I'm not sure why I did that." She admits and runs a hand through her ponytail, "You look like you need it."
Loki stares, then wets his lips, "Ah...thank you."
Jane shakes her head slightly before moving back to Thor and sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, her gaze refusing to leave him as if she's afraid that when it does he'll simply vanish. The two begin to speak in hushed tones and Peter throws his focus elsewhere to not eavesdrop. Dr. Foster's companion rocks forward slightly before taking a few more steps into the room.
She stops in front of Loki, "Is that a tenth grade history book?"
Loki flicks his gaze back down to the book, then up to her. "Indeed."
"Okay." Dr. Foster's assistant says cryptically, "Enjoying it?"
"Yes."
There's a beat, then: "Carry on then."
Loki does so, casting a final glance towards his brother and Dr. Foster before diving into the depths of the book again.
Peter manages to finish his homework before Dr. Foster's assistant turns off her Ipod and moves across the room grabbing Dr. Foster's shoulder and declaring, loudly: "I'm starving, Jane; can we get dinner?"
Dr. Foster frowns, "It's not that late, Darcy."
"It's seven thirty."
"Oh."
Seven thirty? He didn't tell May that he was going to be out this long. Poofballs.
Dr. Foster looks back at Thor, who gives a hesitant smile in response, "We can continue this later if you would like."
"I would like that." Dr. Foster assures and leans forward to give his hand a quick squeeze before rising to her feet and grimacing slightly.
"Old woman." Darcy jibes and Dr. Foster lightly whacks her arm.
"I'm not that old."
"Once you get above twenty-five, you're bones are in danger of giving out."
Dr. Foster rolls her eyes and sighs slightly rubbing the back of her neck, "I think I saw a restaurant somewhere near here we can pop by."
Mr. Stark snorts loudly and claps a hand onto Captain Rogers shoulder, "Please, we have more than enough food in this tower for the two of you. Cap can get you something, I need to go grab something for Sparky and Black Cat."
Captain Rogers moves forward accordingly and the two women follow him from the room. Mr. Stark stops in the doorway abruptly and pauses, popping his head out and managing to catch Peter's gaze, "I'll grab you something, then I'll get Happy to drive you home if you don't want to patrol for a little."
"Can't," Peter admits, shaking his head, "I don't have the suit."
Mr. Stark's eyebrows lift with minor surprise, "Okay. Weird. Um. Right. Food, I'll be back in a few minutes—actually, Thor, has Bruce changed the bandages on your eye yet?"
Thor's posture seizes and he sighs, shaking his head. "No."
"Goodie." Mr. Stark grumbles, "Jarvis, tell him to get his butt down here, 'cause I don't want to go digging through eye-guts again."
"Will do, Sir." Jarvis answers briskly.
"Peter," Peter flicks his gaze up to Mr. Stark's awaiting one, "will you see if you can find some antiseptic? It's all out in here and I've been meaning to replace it. I'm going to go steal some food from the kitchens upstairs."
Peter nods and Mr. Stark disappears from the doorway, Peter following close behind. As he steps into the hallway, he's greeted by a less thick smell of hospital and it's relieving. His senses have been driven up walls in annoyance from the strong pulse of the rooms and he isn't sure how much longer he can stand in here without having to stuff onions up his nostrils.
Mr. Stark disappears into the elevator and Peter scans the hallway, searching for a room to raid. He's not sure if there will be rooms without antiseptic, but he's only been in this part of Stark Medical a few times.
After a few more seconds of indecision, he just picks the closest room to search in.
Peter slips from the room with ease, striding down the hall and stepping into an empty hospital room, flicking on the lights and moving to the supply closet. He tugs the door open and glances at the stuff inside, searching for the antiseptic. Where would they put it? Peter tries to be organized, and fails, but this is so...clean, it's almost nauseating. He honestly wouldn't be surprised if it was alphabetized.
Actually…
No.
It's not.
Peter sighs with slight annoyance and begins to dig through the shelves looking for the bottle when his spider sense blares with warning suddenly. Peter leaps to the left on instinct and a loud exhale escapes his throat as a blade slams into the space where his head was a second ago. He whirls with surprise only to be shoved back against the shelves and a blade pressed into his throat.
Peter makes a noise.
The person holding him is a woman, with weird antler-like things and dark blue hair. Her eyes look infected with glitter, but she's taller than him and her expression is calm. What? How did she get in here?
"Where are they, child?" She hisses; her voice is smooth, but thin.
Peter grabs at her arm, attempting to pull the blade back. "I—I don't—"
"Lies. Where are they?"
He makes a garbled sound and twists at her forearm, attempting to squirm from the grip.
She makes a move to grab for his throat, but Peter catches her wrist and swings his legs up kicking her in the stomach. She stumbles back several feet, hand coming to wrap around the area as Peter tumbles to the floor.
"Jarvis!"
The AI remains quiet and Peter leaps for the other weapon present in the room wishing desperately for his web shooters. Why did he have to stop wearing them all the time?
"JARVIS!"
The woman dives towards him again and they engage briefly in battle. He has been learning from the Avengers resistant ex-assassins, as well as a few lessons from Steve, but there's something completely different from the team, which though they're happy to bruise him, they aren't going for the kill. And he's not fighting against other weapons.
He's swiftly disarmed and her hand wraps around his throat. "I don't have time for these games, we know that you found them."
"Them?" Peter chokes out squirming against her grip.
The woman's eyes flicker with annoyance. "The Asgardian prince and the Jotunn wretch."
Asgardian.
Thor. Loki.
Crap.
Something must show on his face because the woman's expression twists into a smile. "They're here, aren't they? Yes, no need to deny it, I can see it on your face, child. You are no longer useful to me." With that stated, the woman lifts her hand and blows thick dust into his face. Peter chokes and the sent is sharp, acidic and painful as he inhales despite his attempts to evade it.
Wait! He wasn't ready for this! "This" what is "this"!? What the heck is going on?
His vision is blurring, the woman has dropped him and is striding from the room, but he can't make his muscles move. Everything is blurry. He's tired. Exhausted. His eyes are slipping shut—he needs to move—and Peter slips into unconsciousness.
Author's Note: Okay, so fun fact 'cause I'm an astronomy nerd: One of the main chemicals Uranus is made up of is hydrogen sulfide, which is what gives rotting eggs their smell. This is why Peter compares Uranus to a horribly smelling lunch, because Uranus would not be pleasant to inhale.
Anyway, yep, so, yeah. Thank you guys for your patience, this story is hard to get motivated to write so it sort of happens in rapid bursts where I complete a chapter in half a day then don't think about it for another month. Given this, I'm not certain when he next chapter will be out, but I thank you happily for your continued interest! You're all so sweet. =) Happy New Year!