Chapter 19: Family
Well, this was an interesting chapter to write. If you see the word "nod" in strange places, possibly accompanied by "mew" or "moo", do not blame me. That is the work of an insane cat-obsessed person whom I am certainly not related to. They did it right after I had reread the whole thing, so I didn't put quite as much effort into the extra lookover as I should have. I'm just really excited to get to the next few chapters.
Pink Lemonade: Oh yeah, Kraven's a creep. Yet I kind of like how Kraven and Taskmaster are both cold and calculating, but in different ways. And please don't kill Sam just yet ;) This chapter will give you a better idea of what's going to happen.
HugeFan0'Yours: I'm so glad I was able to trick you briefly! I know the natural web thing is done so much, but I love it! I'm going to make sure Pete gets some good use out of it.
Guest: Ah, you flatter me! And flattery will get you . . . well, it did kind of spur me to work on this a little more, so it can get you stuff sometimes. Enjoy the chapter!
Peter stood there for a long moment, just watching the white goop drip from his hands. It was beginning to cover his sneakers.
"We can't leave this mess here," Sam muttered as he knelt down to scoop up the liquid silk on the floor. Then he grabbed Peter's arm, guiding him back into the thinning crowd. "Come on, let's clean you up before people start thinking that you've been eating paste."
Peter allowed himself to be led to the nearest bathroom. Sam checked inside first, managing to convince the few guys inside to leave. Peter entered as they left, watching Sam duck down to look for the feet of any stragglers in the stalls.
"All clear."
Letting out a breath, Peter approached the nearest sink. "Thanks," he mumbled.
"No problem." Sam grabbed a maintenance sign from the corner, quickly placing it outside the door. "So those are webs, right?"
"I think so." Peter examined his hands more thoroughly this time. "It's too much like a liquid, but . . ." He thought of Phoebe again. Her webs weren't like his synthetic ones, especially when he had first found her. They were weaker, softer. He assumed that was because her spinneret was still developing.
Developing spinnerets. In his wrists. He had to see this for himself to believe it. He pulled the bandages off. It was a bit harder than usual with the silk (his silk) holding them in place. The silk was soft but still very sticky. He rinsed it off.
If his wrists had looked fine earlier, they looked almost perfect now. All the cuts had healed over. The only marks left were what appeared to be two thin scars, one in the middle of each wrist, a little less than an inch from the bottom of his palms. He lifted his wrists up to eye level, bending his hands back slightly so they wouldn't block the light. As he did so, he felt something moving underneath the skin. It was a strange sensation. Like . . . like . . .
He wasn't quite sure what it felt like. Maybe like a muscle twitching involuntarily. Except it wasn't quite involuntary. He could feel that the tensing and slight shaking of his hands were making it happen. He just couldn't tell how. Yet.
The 'scars' opened, revealing twin slits which quickly filled up with more liquid silk.
Peter closed his eyes and leaned onto the sink with his elbows. He kept his hands up in the air because he didn't know what else to do with them. He just—needed a moment to breath.
"Wicked," Sam whispered behind him. He came closer, peeking over Peter's shoulder. "Why isn't it like your regular webs?"
"Probably because this is new," Peter replied hollowly.
"Can I touch it?"
Peter didn't know what to say to that, but Sam seemed to take his silence as a 'yes'. Peter felt a finger poke at his arm. He looked up to see a gooey strand of silk linked between his wrist and Sam's hand. It broke before it stretched too far.
"Funky," Sam muttered as he began to play with the silk between his fingers.
Huffing, Peter shook his head. "You are something else, Sam."
"Yeah, I know. I'm guessing you wanna go to Connors?"
"That would be nice about now, yes."
"Then there's one little thing you should probably know." Sam held his phone up in his other hand. "The team is saying that people are starting to look for you all over the school."
"Sam . . ."
"Relax! I'll ask them to run some diversions while I sneak you out of here, all right? Here, take my sweater. Keep the hood up, hands in the pockets. You'll look like a moody delinquent, but less people will recognize you."
Peter let Sam help him into the hoodie. Not because he couldn't put it on himself, but because every other movement of his wrists made more silk come out, which made it that much harder to get his arms through the sleeves. But eventually it was on and they were walking back out of the bathroom.
There were still some students milling about. They were mostly concentrated around the bulletin boards where the fliers were up. A few glanced his way, but Peter didn't know them, and they didn't appear to recognize him. Peter kept his gaze down. He felt a little dazed as his brain tried to worry about two things at once.
Webs. Or technically silk. Spider silk—
They're all staring at me—
Coming out of my wrists—
They're probably wondering if I met Spider-Man—
There are HOLES in my wrists—
What if they saw what's coming out of my arms. . .?
That last thought sort of combined both of his current problems. Just like both of his problems combined both aspects of his life.
There was something about that . . .
Some people from his science classes were ahead. Peter pulled the hood tighter over his head as he passed.
"Incredible," Connors muttered as he examined Peter's wrists for the second time today. "The skin folds over so cleanly. No wonder neither of us noticed earlier." He wiped some silk away. "Yes, they're very well hidden. You shouldn't need to worry about anyone noticing them. Well, once you stop leaking, that is. Any ideas on how to control them?"
"I was hoping you might be able to help me figure that out."
"Ah, of course. Let's take a closer look at the mechanism then." Connors grabbed some tools to hold the skin open. Peter looked away at first, but was soon overcome by curiosity. He peeked, getting a glimpse of the inside of his arm where something small and pale was nestled. It looked a lot like a regular spider's spinneret. Except for the fact that it was way bigger. His fingers twitched and it moved, releasing more silk.
Peter had expected to be more nauseated by the sight. As it was, he was only a little queasy. It just felt so surreal.
"It seems like the nerves for your hands are connecting to the spinnerets as well," Connors said as he grabbed a simple magnifying glass. "Everything is highly underdeveloped though. Give it all some time to form, and give yourself time to practice, and you'll probably be able to control these better than your web shooters."
"I was happy with my web shooters, thank you very much," Peter grumbled, then sighed. "How long do you think it'll take?"
"For them to finish forming? It's hard to say. Probably another day or so. Spinnerets are highly intricate, but your body works fast."
Peter groaned. "It'll be the weekend by then! I won't be able to go back to school until next week!"
"I'm sorry, but you're somewhat vulnerable like this. Anyone could see it, and I'm sure it wouldn't be comfortable to patrol either."
Peter groaned again. It felt like everything kept putting his life on hold the moment he found a way to move forward. "Okay, fine, I get that. But can you please explain to me why I now have spinnerets in my wrists? My wrists, Doc! If there was anywhere I was even remotely afraid of growing spinnerets, it was not my wrists!"
"This is a curious development," Connors admitted. "There have been some changes in your DNA recently that I wasn't able to connect to anything. I assumed that they might be related to something internal or non-obvious, and spinnerets fit the bill. But the most probable location of the change would have been—"
"I know, Doc, I know. That's why I'm wondering."
"Well, if I had to come up with a theory on the spot, I'd say this might be caused by the mammalian portions of your DNA. Many mammals have some sort of glands on their wrists. Platypuses, certain wild cats, ring-tail lemurs. And all mammals are rather closely connected since we're all in the same family. Or kingdom, to use the proper term. So that DNA is floating around in us somewhere. Then in comes your spider DNA, changing up the place." Connors began to mime with his hands, one sort of hovering in place while the other came chomping in like Pacman. "I'll need to run some more tests to see, but maybe the two types of DNA involving glands and spinnerets were similar enough that they sort of merged together. Hence spinnerets in your wrists." He joined his hands together, intertwining the fingers.
Peter considered that for a long moment. There was something he liked about the theory. "Okay, I can see that."
Connor removed his tools, allowing the slits in Peter's skin to close into the appearance of scars again. The exam room was quiet for a minute while he went to check on the machines he had testing samples of Peter's blood and silk. Peter laid back on the examination table in an introspective mood.
Out of everything that had happened to him recently, gaining organic webs felt like the biggest thing. Maybe not as disturbing as the fangs or the venom, but more noticeable. More obviously spidery. Spewing webs from his wrists was a Spider-Man thing. Something he had spent days inventing when he had first come up with the idea for web shooters. Something he could usually take off when patrol was done. Having spinnerets built into his wrists now made him feel like he was officially branded as Spider-Man.
He remembered when he had told his aunt that he didn't stop being Spider-Man without the costume. It felt a lot more literal now. Honestly, all he really needed was some red and blue body paint at this point and—
Nope. He was not going to entertain the idea of swinging naked through the New York. It just—no—just no.
On a brighter note though, he also remembered his talk with the team yesterday. They had even discussed a few of his opinions on webs. Opinions he'd had long before today, so nothing new. And no one had made a big deal about any of it. So Peter felt a little more comfortable than he might have been.
. . . Comfortable about what? Was he already thinking of making a test web the moment his silk was more solidified? Well, honestly yes. He needed to figure out how his spinnerets worked anyway. And the team had promised that they wouldn't mind these sorts of things. He could make as many web hammocks as he wanted to now. Or seriously try out some new web types. Or—
His stomach growled and another idea came to mind.
Peter looked at his hands again. This was organic silk now, not synthetic. "Um, Dr. Connors?"
"Yes?" Connors replied, although he remained intent on the machines.
"Will I need to eat more now to produce these webs?"
"That seems highly likely. Maybe more fiber would help."
Or recycling, Peter mentally added.
Was he really about to do this? He had already done it with his homemade web fluid . . .
Before he could change his mind, Peter stuck his finger into the silk and quickly put it into his mouth.
The silk was soft and gooey like melted marshmallows, and it didn't taste half bad. Much better than his synthetic stuff. Peter felt sort of guilty for giving in to such a rash decision. Except it felt so . . . natural. Like scratching an itch. A very itchy itch.
He was Spider-Man. A spidery man. Maybe Ava really was right when she said he could be different. Peter took some more silk on his finger.
And then the door opened and Fury entered. Peter hurriedly sat up and wiped his hands on his pants.
"What's the situation?" Fury asked immediately. Between Connors and Peter, the Director was brought up to speed. He seemed to process everything as quickly as it was thrown at him. The first thing he asked when the explanations were done was, "Did anyone see this?"
"I don't think so," Peter answered. "Sam helped me out. I kept my hands in my pockets and we got out of school as fast as possible." It was then that he remembered he was still wearing Sam's sweater. It had the scent of Sam's cologne. Peter had never noticed that Sam had pretty good taste in cologne.
"Shield will monitor everyone's social media for a few hours just in case. And speaking of Alexander." Fury shook his head exasperatedly. "He just told me the 'brilliant' idea he had."
Peter grimaced. "Oh, yeah, what are we going to do about that? Can we say it was all a prank? Sam's always doing stuff like that."
"I was about to issue a retraction, but Alexander managed to convince me that he may have a point."
Peter's eyes widened. "No way."
"His full plan called for a demonstration of the Iron Spider suit with you present in the crowd. I can't allow a weapon like that to be used in the school, but a video demonstration can be arranged. If anyone saw anything suspicious about you today, watching you interact with Spider-Man will prove any conspiracy theories wrong."
"So you're going to let me present my work on the suit?"
Fury gave a begrudged nod. "You're going to get your five seconds of fame, Parker. But try to keep it to five seconds, all right?"
Peter came very close to complaining about having to go through with Sam's insane plan. But then he thought of the furious look on Cho's face, and it seemed like a much more appealing idea. "Yes sir!"
Fury sighed. "I need to get the Triscallion finished sooner rather than later."
"The tri-what now?"
"The school Shield is creating for young heroes. You'll all be transferred there once it's complete."
Peter's heart seemed to drop straight to the floor. "I thought it was going to be an afterschool thing like it's always been."
One of Fury's eyebrows raised, amused. "Do you know how risky and time-consuming it is for Shield to be involved in a high school just to assist five agents in training? I've lost count of the times Midtown High has been attacked. Not to mention we're now looking into taking on new agents. We need a more permanent solution."
"Right, that makes sense." Peter felt bad that he kept causing the school so much trouble. It just also felt weird to think he might be leaving the place soon. He had always sort of assumed he'd graduate there with Harry and MJ, but he supposed that just wasn't meant to be. "How far will it be from Queens?"
"A few miles off the Atlantic coast."
"Like a boarding school then?"
"Yes."
It was strange. Peter had never once imagined he'd be going to a boarding school. Outside of fiction, he thought they sounded stuffy and dull. But this one would be run by Shield, so it couldn't be all bad. "I'll still be able to visit home, right? And go on patrol?"
"Of course. You're students, not prisoners."
"Okay, good. I would have had to start a revolt otherwise."
"Don't get any bright ideas, Parker. Coulson will still be in charge when he gets back."
"And when will that be?"
"In time."
"Did he travel far?"
"If I told you, I'd have to kill you."
Peter snorted, but quickly sobered up when he noticed the Director's face remained stoic. Only then did the slightest trace of mirth enter Fury's eye. He turned to Connors.
"Will Parker's new webs be strong enough for use in the field?"
"There's a very good chance that the answer is yes. We'll perform all the necessary tests once everything is fully developed. Although I'm curious . . . Peter, why don't you try squirting some out now?"
"It's already coming out," Peter reminded him somewhat petulantly. He wouldn't have minded trying, but not when it involved making a fool of himself in front of Fury. He had a feeling this was going to take some awkward trial and error.
"Just give it a shot. I need the data anyway."
Sighing, Peter curled the fingers of his right hand into the position he used for his web shooters. A little extra silk came out, but not much. After making the motion, Peter expected as much. Curling his fingers made something happen in his wrist, but it didn't feel right. It didn't . . . make his spinneret move.
Wow, that was weird to think. Not a whole lot weirder than thinking about his fangs, but still a little weird.
Was he getting used to this? Or was he just in some sort of shock? He wasn't quite sure.
Regardless, he kept trying, moving and twisting his hand and wrist. Some movements made the thing in his wrist twitch, so he focused on those. And soon enough—
Thwawp
Peter startled at the sound, jerking back. A glob of silk shot up and out.
"Oops . . ."
For five whole seconds, he was treated to the sight of Nick Fury with a dripping web beard before the Director ripped it away. Some white specks remained behind though. As mortified as he was, Peter had to suppress a snicker.
"Double training sessions this weekend," Fury said by way of retaliation.
"Yes, sir." Peter did not complain about such things when Fury looked ready to go all super-spy-assassin on him. He didn't break eye contact though. After so long of being on the receiving end of that glare, Peter could handle it.
He just hoped he could handle whatever May would think of this.
May was still cleaning herself up when she heard Peter come in. She didn't always get this dirty from riding her dirt bike, but in her rush to get home she had splashed into a mud puddle far deeper than it appeared.
Finally getting the last bit of mud off of her arms and face, she came out to find Peter standing in the hallway with his arms awkwardly crossed, the hand of one arm clutched tightly around the wrist of the other. His eyes were ever so slightly wider than usual. He was worried and a little scared, just like the last few times he came to tell her about his new mutations. May's heart clenched.
"Hey, Aunt May. I'm sorry you had to quit the race."
"Nonsense! I want to be here for you. Tell me what happened."
Peter swallowed, exhaling in a sort-of laugh. "A lot happened. Do you want to start with the drama of my life or spidery stuff?"
"We can get to all of it, but let's start with your health. Do you want to sit down first?" She began to lead the way to the living room, but he stayed put.
"Maybe we should sit in the kitchen instead? I don't want to get the sofa dirty. And I missed lunch."
"Oh, you must be starving! I'll make you something. But we can still eat in the living room if you want. You know I don't care about getting things a little muddy."
"It's—um—not your mud I'm worried about."
Peter released his grip on his wrists, revealing his hands palm up. They were covered in white goo. May's brow furrowed as she tried to identify it. What goo was serious enough to have him sent home by Shield? Only one thing came to mind "What is that? Is it—is it like the symbiote Venom?"
"No! Nothing like that, thank goodness." A wan smile briefly graced his face. "This is silk. Or it's supposed to be. It's not coming out right. Yet."
"Silk? As in spider silk?"
"Yeah."
"Coming out of your wrists?"
"That's what I was thinking! But yes, there are spinnerets growing in my wrists. I'm not really questioning it though. I'm just grateful they're not growing elsewhere." He shrugged stiffly, trying for another smile.
May looked down at his hands again. "Can I see them?"
Looking a little reluctant about it, Peter nodded, wiping the silk off on his pants. His jeans were turning more white than blue at this point. May took one of his hands in hers. A scar was just visible beneath the remaining residue of goo on his wrist. As she pulled his hand close, the scar opened up. She caught a glimpse of the workings within before she had to close her eyes.
She had seen a lot of things as a nurse, but nothing like this.
Opening her eyes, she focused on her nephew's face because he was what mattered. And right now he looked terrified. "How does it feel? You mentioned some discomfort this morning."
"I'm fine now," he said quietly. "It just feels . . . strange." He took his hand back, wiping the latest goo off of it and revealing the 'scar' again. It was long enough to look like he had tried to slit his wrists. "Connors apologized for missing them this morning, but it was sort of my fault too. I kind of rushed the examination this morning, and I agreed with him that everything looked and felt normal then."
A little piece of May's heart broke at how he thought scars were normal. It was moments like this when it was hard not to tell him to hang up the spandex until he was older. But she reminded herself that he was making a difference in the city.
She just wished it didn't come at the price of making such a difference in him.
May was pulled out of her musings by a particularly loud growl from Peter's stomach. "Oh, that's right, you said you missed lunch! Come, do you want some sandwiches or the leftover chili?"
"I really don't want to say both, but . . ."
"Both it is then." May entered the kitchen and immediately made herself busy. Within minutes, Peter had a steaming bowl of chili in front of him with some ham and cheese sandwiches in the works. He dug in.
"So," May said as she sliced some cheese. "What does this mean for you now that you're growing your own webbing?"
Peter swallowed a large mouthful. "I doubt anything too different. I'll practice with it over the weekend so I can figure out how it works. Fury will probably make that part of training anyway. Even if it turns out to be as good as my synthetic formula, I think I want to keep using my web shooters regardless. Mostly because making it myself is going to make me extra hungry like I am right now. And it'd be sort of weird too."
"It might work as a backup then? I know you have trouble with your web shooters once in a while."
He chuckled slightly, although he didn't look entirely amused. "It's more like every other week, but yeah, I guess having a backup web source will be helpful. So long as it's more reliable though. Right now, it's just coming out and I don't know how to stop it. I think it's leaking a little less than earlier though." He twisted his left hand to be palm up and a glop of the goo shot out with a thwawp. May jumped in surprise. "I'm sorry!" Peter quickly apologized. "That keeps happening too. I promise I'll get the hang of it. And I'll clean that up."
May glanced behind herself to see the webbing covering the wall clock. "Don't worry, honey, I'll take care of it in a minute. Just focus on eating." She turned back to him, setting the plate of sandwiches next to his bowl before standing to clean everything.
Peter frowned. "Aren't you going to eat something too?"
"Not now, I'm not hungry. Wasn't there something else you wanted to talk to me about?"
Peter nodded, looking troubled. "Yeah, um . . . so Sam did the craziest thing behind my back . . ." And he proceeded to tell her the most bizarre story of semi-betrayal. It was almost amusing, but May understood the seriousness of the situation. That's why she was surprised when he said that Fury was okay with him being in the Science Fair. But if Shield had a plan . . .
"They do have a plan," Peter insisted, perhaps noticing the skepticism on her face. "In fact, it sort of works out for the next few days too. Shield has to give me approval to take the Iron Spider suit regardless, so I'm not going to be able to go to school for the rest of the week while I'm busy filing paperwork and all that jazz, which I kind of have to do anyway. But Sam has to do some of it too since it was his idea. I have to admit that the plan is actually starting to grow on me."
May smiled. "Even someone as humble as yourself should get a chance to show off once in a while."
"I guess. I feel sort of bad for Amadeus though. Sure, I'll admit that I was imagining all the ways I could prove I'm still smarter than him, but to just come out with this awesome suit built with Tony Stark seems a little unfair."
"From what you tell me about him, that boy already has a good future ahead of himself. I'm sure he can handle a bit of competition."
"Fair point." Peter set the now empty bowl aside and picked up one of the sandwiches, staring at it sadly. "Harry's not going to handle it well though, is he?"
May shrugged helplessly. "Could you set it up so it sounds like Stark assigned the project to you?"
"Yeah, but it's still something for Spider-Man. And you should have heard him earlier. He said he wasn't going to stop boycotting MJ's play just because it puts Spidey in a good light. And . . . he said Spider-Man . . . he said I don't seem like a hero."
"Oh Peter." May put her hand on his, even if it got her hand dirty all over again. The gooey silk was ever so slightly warm to the touch. "I'm sorry he feels that way, but you can't let him get to you. He's going through a tough time and, whether he's willing to admit it or not, he's looking for someone to blame."
Peter bit his lip, revealing one fang. It almost surprised May. He didn't show those fangs often. "I know, I get that. But if he's willing to go against MJ even though she's a friend, then what would he—Would he even care if he knew that it's me he's talking about?"
"I wish I could give you an answer, or even some advice, but . . ." May sighed. "This is out of my hands. Harry's been a good friend, but even good people have a hard time seeing what's right when family is involved. He loves his father, and he doesn't want to believe that Norman could be a monster."
"And he's not," Peter insisted. "The Goblin serum can make anyone go insane!"
"That's not what the media likes to say though. The only news source that defends Goblin is the Daily Bugle. It's not too surprising that Harry would start agreeing with them on other issues."
"Yeah . . . I guess there's not much to say until we can cure Goblin, huh?"
"Not necessarily, but that could only help. How's that going? He's in custody right now, isn't he?"
"Yup, Dr. Connors is taking the opportunity to take some blood samples. We're not that much closer on figuring out how to reverse it though."
"These things take time. Don't feel like you're failing just because you didn't figure it out in the first few weeks."
"I know, May, I know. It's just . . . he's basically lost his dad, except it's worse because he has to see the Goblin on the news doing horrible things."
May held his hand tighter. "He'll get through it, and we'll help him as much as we can, okay?"
"Okay."
Peter tried to return to his sandwich, but their hands were stuck. It took a few minutes before they could get their hands apart. Peter apologized profusely until May shushed him and forced him to continue eating his lunch.
Peter entered his bedroom, leaning against the door with his eyes closed in a grimace. He couldn't shake the image of his aunt's queasy face.
Queasy. He had made her queasy! He shouldn't have let her see his spinnerets! What had he been thinking?
Granted, May hadn't made a big deal about it. She just kept talking like nothing was bothering her, and he appreciated that. He really appreciated how she listened to his worries. But that didn't change the fact that he had grossed her out. He had grossed her out enough that she hadn't eaten lunch, and she always made sure to eat after a workout.
It was official. He was creepy with a capital C.
Well . . . maybe not entirely creepy . . . The team didn't think he was gross. And Sam had seen his spinnerets and taken it all in stride.
Was it just May who thought he was gross?
Speter okay?
Taking a deep breath, Peter pushed all that aside. He would figure it out later. Phoebe needed his attention right now.
"Hey, Phoebe, I'm fine. How are you? I've got some news."
He let her out as he spoke. Phoebe climbed up his arm like she always did. Peter tried not to wonder what Aunt May would think if she saw them like this.
Phoebe great. What news? More live bugs?
"Sorry, I haven't had a chance to get more yet. I should have plenty of time this weekend though." He took a breath. "The news is . . . well . . . remember when I said I don't have natural silk like you?"
Yup.
"Guess what's literally coming out of my wrists now."
Phoebe crawled back down his arm, pulling at his sleeve. Speter has silk! She exclaimed happily.
Huh, Peter had been ready to unload his angst with her again, but if she was happy then he didn't want to ruin her mood. "Um—yeah. What do you think?"
She prodded his silk with one leg. She knew how to touch it without getting stuck. Too soft.
Peter chuckled. "You're right. I'm hoping it gets stronger soon." He hummed thoughtfully. "Do you think you could give me any tips on how to use my spinnerets?"
Phoebe teach Speter?
"Yes, please, if you don't mind."
Yay! Phoebe teacher! She waved two legs in the air.
Her excitement brought a smile to Peter's face. He hadn't expected his predicament to bring her so much enjoyment. "Okay, Ms. Phoebe, what is my first lesson?"
Phoebe took a moment to examine his wrists, prodding at the skin and peeking at his spinnerets. Hm . . . Speter need calm and relax.
"What do you mean? I'm pretty calm right now." It was true. Being reminded that he had someone like Phoebe to talk to was comforting.
Speter calm. Phoebe agreed. Speter spin—sp—spinners not calm. Too . . . um . . .
"My spinners?" Peter snorted at the term. "Are you trying to say they're tense?"
Yup! Spinners tense. Need relax.
"Okay, that makes sense. The trouble is that I don't know how to relax them. Any ideas?"
Instead of answering, Phoebe ran the tip of one of her legs along the edge of the hole in his skin, applying a gentle pressure. It felt . . . nice, and soon enough that spinneret stopped moving. Peter could feel the difference between his two wrists now. The other spinneret was incredibly tense in comparison.
"Wow, that worked. How did you know to do that?"
Phoebe shrugged. Not sure. Phoebe remembers . . . She sent him an indistinct image of a spider bigger than herself carefully doing the same massaging motion with her. The clearest parts were its large, shiny eyes, and the memory was enshrouded in comfort and . . . love.
"That's . . . I think that's one of your parents," Peter said quietly.
Parents?
"Yeah, either your mom or your dad."
Phoebe shook her head. Not mom or dad.
"Are you sure? Then maybe an aunt? Uncle? Sister? Brother? Cousin—"
Sister, she asserted firmly.
Peter blinked. "Sister, huh? Do you have a lot of siblings?"
Another shrug. Not sure.
This was interesting. Peter hadn't really thought of Phoebe having a family. Most wild spiders were loners after all. But apparently she was from a family, and possibly a closely knit one. "Do you remember your parents?"
A little.
A family that she could barely remember. Peter swallowed the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry I took you away from them."
It okay. Phoebe got stuck in Speter-Man suit.
"But I still haven't been able to get you home. And I know what it's like to not have parents. Do you miss them?"
Phoebe turned to look up at him. Maybe little. But Phoebe has Speter!
He smiled sadly. "I'm happy to be here for you, but I promise that I'll take you back to them." He paused, a question occurring to him for the first time. "What else did your family do for you?"
Keep Phoebe warm and safe. Make webs for sleep.
"Maybe I can make you a proper web once I can figure out how to use these things." Peter glanced at his wrists.
Okay! What Speter family like?
"I have a very small family. It's just me and my aunt now. My parents . . . they're not alive anymore. I—um—I don't remember them too well," he admitted. "I lost them a long time ago. Aunt May and Uncle Ben raised me for most of my life, until I lost Ben too."
Speter no remember?
"Well . . . there's one thing I kind of remember. It's a little like your memory."
Show Phoebe!
Peter exhaled. Of all the things he practiced with her, he hadn't yet tried to send her images or memories. It couldn't be that hard though, right? "I'll try. Let me know if you can't see anything." Closing his eyes, he focused on the hazy memory of a day when he had gotten hurt. He couldn't recall what he had been doing. All he knew was that it had been a fairly dramatic cut for a toddler, so he had run screaming to his mom. And she had held him close, carding her fingers through his hair until they reached his neck, and then she tickled him until he laughed. That's as far as the memory went, and the image of his mother was largely based off of pictures, but he remembered it fondly.
Opening his eyes, Peter blinked the water out of his eyes. "Were you able to see it?"
Yup. Speter mom good. Like Phoebe family.
"Thanks. And thank you for teaching me how to use my 'spinners'."
Speter welcome! She crawled up his arm to lean into his chest. Peter ran his hand over her like both family members had done in their memories. Phoebe began to purr loudly enough that he felt her vibrations deep inside, and they stayed like that for a while.
Alex hoped he wouldn't have to stay here for too long. His parents expected him to be home in time for dinner. He reassured himself that this would be a quick meeting. Or, at least that's what Coach Yaeger's business card said.
After years of being bullied in the shadows, Alex's faith in authority had long since been diminished.
To his relief and surprise, Yaeger appeared in the mouth of the alleyway the moment the second hand of Alex's watch hit twelve. Punctual. Very punctual. So unlike Alex's own family.
"Hello, Alex," the former coach greeted him with a crisp nod of his head. It was strange to see him out of his gym shorts and tank top. Instead he wore a white leather jacket over ordinary clothes.
Yaeger's voice was so deep. Alex wished his was like that. Alas, all he could manage was a "You came" that wasn't embarrassingly high pitched, but wasn't quite respectable either. He cleared his throat. "I wasn't sure the business card was real."
"Oh, it's real." Yaeger folded his arms, which flexed his large muscles. "I hope your information is real."
Alex gulped, but quickly chided himself on being so scared. Yaeger probably just sounded menacing naturally. It wasn't his fault that he was gifted with some dignity. With any luck, he could teach Alex a thing or two about that like he had promised over the phone.
"It's real," Alex assured him. "I promise. I was just kind of surprised that you're willing to help me out in exchange for some info on teenagers."
"You're helping me. I'm willing to help you in return. I'm a fair man."
"And what exactly am I helping you with?"
"I'm trying to protect these kids before tragedy can strike. If they can capture your attention, then they can gain unwanted attention from some people with ill intentions. We don't need more super villains in this city."
Alex tried to stare at him shrewdly, he really did, but everyone said his shrewd stare simply made him look gassy, so he gave up. Yaeger seemed sincere anyway. "That's really cool of you." He swallowed, steeling himself. He had seen this sort of scene a million times in movies. "So . . . c—can you show me that you're—um—holding up your end of the deal?"
Wow, that was awful.
If Yaeger was amused by Alex's pathetic attempt at taking control of the situation, he didn't show it. "Of course."
He pulled a thermos out from an inner pocket of his jacket. It was black with a picture of a rhino on one side. It looked . . . ordinary.
"That's going to make me buff?"
"Beyond buff. You will be bigger, taller, faster, better. No one will be able to hold a candle to you."
Alex's eyes glittered with eagerness. He reached out for the thermos, but Yaeger held it away.
"Your turn. Tell me your info."
"Right, sure. So I saw the strangest stuff coming out of this guy. His name is Peter Parker . . ."
