Chapter 4: Sharing is Caring
This was almost done a week ago, but then I realized I had to make a big decision, and I chose the path that made me rewrite the first portion. I was originally going to include two OCs, but that would have included vampires, and I know little to nothing about Marvel vampires. So I went with these two characters from the cartoon instead. Honestly, I know little about them too, but I did read their wiki page, so hopefully I do them justice.
In the same vein, this decision opens up some new opportunities, and now this story may end up being longer than I initially expected. I don't want to promise anything, but . . . this seems like a good opportunity to try my hand at plot arcs . . .
Peter walked the dark streets of the city, very much aware of how strange it was that he wished his sunglasses had a darker tint. The bright lights and neon signs were intermittent in this area, but they still hurt his newly light sensitive eyes.
Part of him wished he had been brave enough to try out the contact lenses Shield had given him. They were made to adjust to light specifically for agents with night vision (because Shield apparently had a lot of genetically enhanced and/or nonhuman agents). But Peter was ashamed to admit he had been a bit of a chicken.
In all of his years wearing glasses, he had never liked contacts. They were hard to put on, and he needed especially thick ones because his vision had just been awful. His aunt and uncle had invested in a pair, but he only ever used them a few times. Now the experience was even less pleasant. The tech in the lenses still made them somewhat thick. And his spider sense prickled at the back of his neck uncomfortably whenever he tried to put them on, as if his body feared he was going to poke his own eye out.
In Peter's defense, though, he hadn't really had the time to get over his small fear of contacts. The store he needed to visit was closing soon, and he wouldn't have the time to go tomorrow since Fury wanted the entire team in for training right after school. He had to do this tonight, and if that meant wearing sunglasses at night, so be it.
He couldn't help but hum the song as he entered Finbar's Peculiar Pet Emporium.
Even so late at night, there were still some customers milling about. Peter wasn't even the oddest one there with his sunglasses. Near the front there was a woman in a pink tutu. Two teenagers stood in the back, looking at a row of rats and snakes. They wouldn't have been too odd except for the fact that they looked like complete opposites of each other. The girl wore a yellow dress, but it looked almost bright white if Peter stared at her for too long. Her blond hair seemed both golden and platinum at the same time. The guy wore a long black trench coat, which was pretty strange for someone so young. It looked like he was trying to hide in the shadows, and succeeding at that.
Having seen people in crazier outfits, Peter calmly walked right in. It took him a few minutes to find the pet food section. It was right next to the row of strange pets. Being so close to the two teenagers, he couldn't help but eavesdrop on their conversation a little bit. In his defense, it was hard not to eavesdrop when you had sensitive hearing.
"I want this one," said the girl, pointing to a cage of brown rats. "Isn't it just adorable?"
"Why would you get a rat?" the guy asked. "Rats are a dime a dozen in New York."
"Street rats are wild. These are tame and cute," the girl explained.
"I still say we shouldn't get a pet."
"Oh come on, Ty! A rat can perch on our shoulders or fit in a small bag. Besides, I thought we were going to take that offer. Then we'll have a place to stay."
"I don't know. I don't trust that guy."
The girl turned her head and rolled her eyes. Peter couldn't help but notice she had a light tattoo of a moon over one eye. "You don't trust most people."
"For a sleuth of good reasons, may I remind you. Speaking of reminding you of things . . ." the guy, Ty, leaned closer to whisper something in her ear so that even Peter couldn't hear it.
"Oh, sorry." She stepped closer to him and he put an arm around her. "I didn't realize I was getting so bright."
"Shh! Don't say that sort of stuff out loud! Whether we take the offer or not, we have to keep a low profile."
Peter frowned, making a show of not being interested in the two of them. He did want to get a good look at the girl though. Had her brightness been real? It was hard to tell with the sunglasses. He wondered what their story was. But at the same time, he really didn't want to get involved. He was aware that there were mutants and other superpowered individuals who would rather stay out of the limelight. He was also aware that Shield wasn't too happy about that fact, but these two seemed harmless enough. They might be two teenagers trying to live a normal life. Who was he to expose them? Peter knew some secrets were meant to be kept.
After a minute, he grabbed a small bucket of dead crickets. As it turned out, spiders didn't always need live prey, and Peter figured he should start his spider off slowly. He wasn't sure if he could teach her how to hunt anyway. He had also learned that spiders could apparently go for several days without meals. Peter couldn't imagine such a thing, but he didn't want to overfeed his little spider either.
As he turned away, the terrarium section caught his eye. He did have some money he had been saving up for a video game, but surely the spider needed this more. She couldn't stay in his tiny bug box forever, especially not if she was going to grow.
Fifteen minutes later, Peter was now laden with a terrarium, heat lamp, and a small bit of log she could sleep beneath. Not struggling with the weight at all, he began to make his way back to the counter. As he passed the two teenagers, he heard Ty whisper, "See that kid, Tandy? He knows how to keep a lower profile than you!"
Unsure if he considered that a compliment or not, Peter proceeded to the checkout. A man with a normal shade of red hair and multiple tattoos manned the cash register. His nametag labeled him as Finbar. The owner then, probably. He smiled at Peter amiably.
"New pet?" he asked. He sounded Scottish, or maybe Irish. His voice had the laidback tone of a surfer dude or skater dude, or some sort of dude.
"Yeah," Peter admitted, dropping his items onto the counter.
"What did you get? Snakes are popular here."
"Spider, actually."
"Ah, spiders have been on the rise I've noticed. Everyone's inspired by Spider-Man. He's really turned spiders from creepy to cool."
Peter tried not to blush as he handed over the cash. "Well, a spider wasn't my first choice." After he said it, he realized the ambiguity of such a statement.
"What type? Tarantulas are pretty common."
"Yeah, she's one of those big ones."
"Oh, she? Most people don't know what they've got." Finbar looked impressed as he bagged everything.
"You just have to know how to Google it," Peter said honestly. He grabbed his bag and left. He wanted to get back in time to figure out how to feed his spider, brave the contacts again, and maybe get some sleep tonight.
Peter climbed through his bedroom window. Before he even opened his closet door, the spider's voice came into his head.
Hello! Speter home!
"Hello to you too. I have some good news!" Peter whispered excitedly as he set her little plastic box on his desk.
News?
"Um . . ." Peter was well aware at this point that he didn't have to put such definitions into words. He could simply send her his thoughts on the word. But he still wasn't really sure how that worked, and he didn't want to accidentally think of the wrong things. Not to mention he figured saying it out loud would help her learn more new words. "News is when you have important information. It's usually a surprise."
Important infa—infomation . . . she paused, perhaps digesting the new definition. Then she raised her front legs happily. Spider news! Spider name!
It took Peter a second to figure out what she meant. "You finally decided on a name?"
Phoebe!
"Ah, so you did like that name! I like it too. I think it's perfect for you."
Perfect?
"Perfect . . . when something is so . . . flawless. There's no problems with it, no trouble. It's just great."
Perfect Phoebe! Phoebe perfect! Phoebe great!
Peter rolled his eyes, but smiled broadly. "Don't go getting a big head now. That means you always think you're perfect and better than everyone else," he added hurriedly as he sensed her budding confusion.
Oh, Phoebe said regretfully. Phoebe . . . Phoebe maybe great.
"Well, I think you're pretty great."
Her joy and pride was quite literally palpable for him.
Peter genuinely liked the name Phoebe. It was the name of one of Mars's moons, which was cool. It was also the name of a character from an old show he used to watch as a kid, The Magic School Bus. He had absolutely adored that show, except for the fact that all of his friends in grade school said he was most like Phoebe. She was the one student who thought every animal was cute and cared about everything. She always wanted to help them out. Then again, looking at himself now, he couldn't exactly deny such a correlation. He hoped he could raise this spider to be as thoughtful as her namesake.
"All right, your news was really good. Now let me show you my news." He removed the terrarium and small bucket from the bag. "This will be your new home in here. It's bigger than the box you're in right now, so you'll have space to run around if you want to." He pointed to the items to avoid misunderstandings. "And this has your food in it."
Phoebe's legs wiggled eagerly. Joy!
"Let's get you settled in here first. It's called a terrarium."
Peter set up the terrarium as quickly as he could. He poured the sand and dirt in, placed in some pebbles and rocks, and carefully arranged the little log with some leaves he had picked on his way home. Maybe he was putting quite a bit of effort into this, but Phoebe was a living creature. She would have had the run of the jungle if she hadn't stowed away with him. This was the least he could do to make her comfortable while he figured out how to get her home.
When it was finally complete, he hesitated before transferring her. Part of him didn't really want to touch her again and would prefer to drop her in. Another part of him thought that was far too rude, but wasn't really any more eager to touch her. There was also the slight fear that she would escape, and he couldn't search around the house for her without alerting his aunt. In the end, he decided to go with the simple thing and just ask Phoebe to behave.
"I'm going to let you out of this box so you can go into your new bigger box. You have to promise me that you won't run away."
Promise?
How did he end up using so many new words? This word was surprisingly easy for Peter to define though. "A promise is when you say you'll do something, and you will do it, or at least try really hard to, no matter what. It's not nice to break a promise. That's really mean."
Phoebe promise, she said as solemnly as Peter had ever heard her.
Now Peter opened the box. The moment she stepped out though, she jumped onto him, rubbing her head against his chest like she had done to his face yesterday. He stiffened, but it soon became apparent she wasn't trying to escape, and that was really all he had asked of her.
"Don't scare me like that! I thought you were trying to get away."
Phoebe no run. Phoebe joy. Phoebe . . . she trailed off, as if searching for the right word.
"You're thanking me? People say 'thank you' when they're happy that someone does something nice for them."
Thank you, Speter! She began crawling up his chest then, reaching his neck. Her legs tickled against his skin, sending shivers down his spine. The sensation wasn't entirely unpleasant though. Peter soon found himself suppressing a giggle as she got to the top of his head. He tried to grab her, but she scuttled out of his reach.
"You move fast. I guess it feels good to stretch your legs?"
Yup! Good!
Phoebe ran over his neck again, and this time Peter did laugh. She hesitated when he began laughing, but must have sensed his happiness because she then began scurrying faster over him. After a minute of this, he finally choked out, "Okay! Phew! I think that's enough exercise. Let's get you into the terrarium."
She dutifully crawled down his arm to sit on his palm. Perhaps it was because he knew her to be very cute, but the feel of her hairy legs did not feel as strange as he had expected. He lowered her into her new home.
Phoebe ran around inside here too for a few minutes. Good Box! Jungle Box! Perfect!
"Phoebe's Jungle Box. I like the sound of that." Peter reached for the jar of crickets. "Would you like some food now?"
Yup!
Peter grabbed a pair of tweezers he usually used for his technological tinkering. With them, he handed Phoebe a cricket. Touching one anthropod was enough for today. "Do you know how to eat one of these?" he asked, but she was already grabbing it eagerly with her little pedipalps. She fumbled only a little as she sunk her fangs into it. Peter swallowed and absently put a hand to his mouth, suddenly very aware of his own fangs again. "Well . . . I guess you don't need any help with that."
Thank you, Phoebe said again as she waited patiently. Peter remembered that spider venom wasn't instant; she needed to wait for the cricket's inside to liquefy completely before she sucked it out like a smoothie.
Peter decided now would be a good time to start cleaning up. He stood and gathered up the packaging he had thrown aside in his rush to assemble the terrarium. He was in the midst of trying to stuff it all into his small waste basket when a knock sounded on his bedroom door. He froze.
"Peter, can I talk to you for a second?" his aunt's voice said through the door.
"Um, yeah, give me a minute." Panicking slightly, Peter scooped up the terrarium and jar of crickets. He didn't dare to say anything out loud to Phoebe with May so close, but did try to mentally tell her, Sorry about this. Just stay quiet until my aunt leaves.
As he stuffed everything into his closet and shut the door, he heard with some relief, Phoebe promise.
Regaining his composure, Peter let his aunt in. "Hey May. What's up?"
She smiled at him. "I was feeling the munchies and made some snacks." She showed him the plate of crackers, cheese, and fruit. "Do you want some?"
Peter huffed. "I keep telling you, I eat a lot, but not that much." He would have still taken a handful of crackers like he usually did, but his hunger had completely left him after watching Phoebe bite into her meal.
"I just wanted to ask. You sounded like you were having a blast before. I'm glad you're not letting a few outward changes change who you are inside." She looked at him proudly.
"Oh, yeah, I was chatting with the guys."
The lie came to Peter's lips easily, as easily as the lies had come when his aunt hadn't known he was Spider-Man. Saying them had pained him then, but now . . . now it calmed his heart, which was still beating quickly from May's unexpected visit. Seeing her buy his story lifted a weight off of his chest. He knew it wasn't really right, but it wasn't really wrong either. He wasn't doing this for himself. He was doing this for Phoebe.
"Okay, make sure you go to bed soon. Of course, I was telling Fury that it would be okay if you don't want to go to school tomorrow."
Peter considered her implicit offer. It wasn't very tempting though. As paranoid as he was probably going to be at school, he couldn't imagine what he would do at home for all those hours aside from hang out with Phoebe all day. As fun as that might be, he would rather rip off the band-aid and get back to school sooner rather than later. "It's fine. It's been a long weekend, and it'll be cool to see Harry."
May reached up to ruffle his hair. "That's my boy, still looking forward to learning."
She left and Peter shut the door, waiting a few minutes before bringing out Phoebe's Jungle Box again. The spider was too busy sucking up her meal to say hello now. Peter busied himself with giving her three more crickets. When Phoebe finished with the first one, she moved toward the new crickets. She grabbed another one, but didn't bite into it.
Dooyoo want some?
Peter raised his eyebrows at her. Apparently, even though other people couldn't understand her, Phoebe could understand other people. He wouldn't be letting her listen to Sam, then. Danny would probably be a good influence though. "Um, no thanks."
Dooyoo want some. This time she said it more forcibly, a statement instead of a question. Phoebe crawled up the glass and held the cricket toward him.
"I don't eat bugs."
Speter spider.
"I've told you. I'm only part spider."
Phoebe didn't continue the argument verbally, but a wave of complex emotions came from her. She wanted to share the delicious food Peter had gotten her. She didn't want to keep everything to herself. She wasn't entirely certain of what he had to do to get all of these things, but she knew it had taken some amount of effort.
Peter blinked a few times as he processed all of that, trying to put her thoughts into words. "You . . . you don't want to be selfish."
Se—selfis . . .?
"Selfish is when you want to keep everything to yourself. But you want to share, so you're not selfish."
Sare . . . share. Phoebe share. She continued to hold the cricket out to him.
Now Peter felt like he couldn't just say no. Phoebe was striving to be kind on her own. Honestly, it astounded him. She was a baby spider. Even after the brief lessons he had given her last night, Peter hadn't expected any of it to really rub off on her, much less for her to act on it so soon. Yet here she was doing exactly that, and he couldn't find it in his heart to brush the gesture aside.
Trying hard not to look too disgusted, he opened the hatch and grabbed the cricket. "Well, um . . . thank you." Phoebe did not return to her meal though. She watched him expectantly. "We're not making a habit out of this. I'm just going to eat this one to make you happy, okay?"
Okay.
Peter rolled the cricket between his fingers. It felt dry and prickly, but smooth in parts. Taking a deep breath, he popped it into his mouth and chewed quickly. It was crunchy like a piece of popcorn. The second he cracked it open, something squishy came rushing out that he tried not to think about. It was slick but just a little sticky, and it coated his tongue quickly. He swallowed hard, forcing it all down his throat.
It wasn't until after he had swallowed it that he finally became aware of the flavor. It . . . really wasn't that bad. He didn't have to lie nearly as much as he expected as he said, "Mm, good food."
Good food, Phoebe agreed happily. She finally climbed back down to continue eating.
Peter left her to it, telling her he needed to get ready for bed. He really wasn't sure if he would get much sleep or if the dreams would return, but he wanted to brush his teeth now anyway.
He usually avoided using the mint toothpaste. It stung his nose and made his eyes water. But even though he had had this aversion since shortly after the spider bite, he hadn't yet told his aunt about it. Instead he kept his own tube of minimally flavored cinnamon toothpaste. This secret stash had come in handy back when the team had stayed at his house, so he never told anyone else out of convenience. Today, however, he wanted something strong enough to wash the flavor out of his mouth, so he picked up the mint toothpaste. It stung as badly as ever, but it did the job.
Peter managed not to gag until he rinsed, when the antennae that had been stuck between his teeth went down the drain.
The night went smoother than Peter expected. There had been a few dreams with a green lush background, but they were nowhere near as distinct as they had been the previous night. At least, they didn't stick in his head as much when he woke up. Either way, he was well rested by the time he had to go to school.
The hardest part of his morning was putting in the contacts. After that mini ordeal, he said good-bye to Phoebe, giving her a few crickets just in case she got hungry. Then he said good-bye to his aunt, giving her a peck on the cheek. And then the first few hours of school went swimmingly. Perhaps Peter didn't speak as much or open his mouth too wide, but such things were reasonable. It wasn't until lunch that things got weird.
Peter sat at his usual table with Harry and MJ. Harry no longer felt jealous of the team, and so they sometimes joined in as well. Usually at least one member of the team was off doing their own thing. Today, however, they all packed the table. Peter supposed they were trying to show support for him. He appreciated the gesture, even if he didn't want any special treatment.
One perk of working for Shield and attending a school that had been quietly taken over by the same organization was that the entire team received their lunches for free. Most of them had abnormally large appetites, and Shield accommodated them nicely. The servers were all under orders to give these five students as much food as they asked for. Ava got extra meat with everything, Luke sometimes carbo-loaded, Sam doubled up on desserts, and Danny had huge vegetarian salads. Peter hadn't liked to exploit Shield's hospitality at first, but after a few training sessions he had unapologetically begun to order whatever amount of burgers or pizza his stomach desired.
Faced with his current . . . teeth issues, Peter took a large plate of pasta today. He figured ziti were small and soft enough to put into his mouth without biting. Of course, the pasta at Midtown High was known to be particularly bland. Anyone older than a freshman generally avoided the dish. Peter probably hadn't ordered it in over a year now, and this did not go unnoticed as he sat down.
"Pasta, Pete? Are you feeling okay?" Harry asked as he opened his bag. He had always brought his own food to school, even if he often traded it for more mundane meals. Harry insisted that the family chef never made the foods he liked.
Peter had his lie ready. "It's been so long since we last got it. I wanted to see if it still tastes bad." He took a forkful to illustrate this. "Nope, still pretty bad."
"They still haven't done anything about it?" MJ asked. "It's a shame. Midtown is a pretty good school, but they don't care too much about the little things like good pasta. And the new principal doesn't seem to take an interest in individual students. He's just stressed about the budget."
The members of the team at the table carefully made sure not to react to that statement.
"Principal Coulson has really decreased unnecessary funds though," Ava said casually.
"Yeah, I guess. But our old principal got to know a lot of the students. I kind of miss that."
Harry chose to pull out his packed lunch at that moment and complain loudly about it. "Ugh! Shrimp again! Here Pete, make your cardboard a bit more edible."
He pushed the container over. Peter didn't accept it right away. "I thought you liked shrimp."
"I do, but Alain has made it practically every day for the past week. Apparently they're in season or something. I'm just tired of it. I'll probably grab a hotdog instead."
Harry pushed the shrimp harder, and Peter finally took them with grateful thanks, throwing some of them into the pasta. These had a crispy bread coating, but were small enough to be bite sized, so Peter didn't fret about it much. He passed the rest around. Harry left the table to join the lunch line. Peter didn't regret taking the shrimp until he ate one.
It wasn't the first time he had eaten shrimp. Aunt May made them once in a while, and they were sometimes part of the dinner menu at the Osborn penthouse when he visited. But this was the first time he had eaten a shrimp since eating the cricket, and he was suddenly faced with the similarities.
Crunchy outside. Squishy inside. An altogether pleasant flavor.
Peter swallowed thickly appalled that he had made such a connection. It didn't help when MJ turned the shrimp down, saying, "I never eat shrimp. They look like bugs to me."
Something must have shown on Peter's face because Luke, the closest team member, asked him quietly, "You all right? Are the teeth bothering you?"
"No, I'm fine." Peter paused. "Do they—do they look all right to you?"
"Yeah, they look completely normal," Luke assured him.
They returned to their lunches. Peter pushed the shrimp around until Harry came back. Then he ate the rest. And with each bite, he began to convince himself that this really wasn't too weird. If Ava could enjoy rare steaks, then he could eat a few shrimps. It was perfectly normal food. People ate bugs around the world anyway.
By the time they left the cafeteria, Peter began to wonder if Phoebe would mind sharing her crickets again.
