"You're pretty." Her finger twirled a strand of his hair.

Rolling his head, he looked at her. White hair cascaded off fair skin, and her eyes, as green as emeralds, shone. Peter smiled. "You too."

Sweeping her hair over her shoulder, she smirked. "I know." Her eyes became hooded. "Why don't you come over and show me just how pretty I am."

Peter didn't need to be told twice, he rolled over, coming to a stop over her. Her skin was warm against his as he lowered himself into her kiss. Her soft pink lips attacked his, just the right amount aggressive as she bit down, making him grunt. Her fingers curled into his head and she lifted her hips, grinding into him and quickening his heartbeat. His mouth left hers and trailed down her jaw and then her neck and then her sternum. Her hands guided his mouth over her breast and he swirled his tongue around the nipple. She chuckled softly. He moved, trailing kisses down her midriff until his head found home between her thighs. He kissed her inner thighs, up then down.

"Trying to tease me, Spider? So rude."

His hands came up to wrap around her thighs, rubbing them. He dove in, slipping his tongue into her then bringing it out with a flick. He repeated the motion a few more times before kissing and suckling at her clit. He kissed around the side, licking in longer strokes up her folds. He continued for several minutes, switching spots of focus until she started writhing. His face cracked into a smile and he moved his sole focus to her clit, upping the speed and pressure as he slipped two fingers into her, curling them forward repeatedly. Her thighs clamped around his head and she arched her back, breathing becoming ragged and harsh as her hands dove into his curls, pulling at his hair and pushing his head further down.

Peter's face split into a grin and he upped the speed even more, his free hand pressing on her pelvis with just enough force to keep her from moving too much. Seconds later, he felt her contract around his fingers and heavy breathing turned to an illicit moan. He carried her through her orgasm, only letting up when her palm pressed on his forehead to let him know it was getting to be too much.

He came up for air, smiling up at her as she craned her head down at him, her fingers playing with his hair. Climbing up, he rested beside her, head propped up on his hand.

He placed a flat palm against her stomach, feeling the muscles ripple beneath his fingertips. He tickled her, smiling against her neck as he delivered kisses. She rolled her head, catching his mouth. He kissed back without hesitation, tongues meeting, twisting in a battle for dominance.

She won. She always did.

"Mmmm, Spider. I love your mouth."

He chuckled. "You in the mood for round 3?"

Her characteristic sharp grin returned. She pulled him back in close, but she didn't kiss him. She murmured into his mouth, "I'll show you what I'm in the mood for."

One of her hands reached over to his shoulder and pushed him down. She climbed on top of him, lowering himself onto his pelvis and squeezing his waist with her thighs, just tight enough to make it clear she was in charge. She kneaded his stomach, fingers spreading, curling to prick his skin with her nails. She smiled, mouth hanging open just a little as she peered down at him.

Her eyes found his with a devilish glint that he reciprocated in kind, excitement bubbling deep inside as his hands roamed her body, cupping her waist then moving higher, exploring every inch like he'd never felt her before.

He made a show of sucking on his thumb before removing it with a trail of spit. Her eyes followed his finger as it pressed against her, making her breath hitch. He pressed lightly and moved it, rubbing up and down in a smooth motion, careful to not make direct contact with her still sensitive clit. Felicia started rocking her hips, forward first, into his thumb, then back into his dick, which stuck up, pressed against her butt. He jerked at the feeling of it rubbing against her. She reached a hand behind her and wrapped it around him, pumping slowly in time with her hips and his thumb. Peter's head fell back against the pillow and a groan was pulled from his belly.

"Mmm, I love how you look, Lover. So pretty."

"Says you."

He heard the crinkle of a wrapper as she chuckled. There was the feeling of a condom being rolled on, then something much more fun wrapping around him as she lowered herself. No matter how many times he felt her heat, no matter how familiar she got, he was overtaken each time. And the moment her hips first shifted, his brain melted, leaking out onto the pillow. She lifted herself up until all but his head was out, then just as quick, she pulled him back in. She did it again. And again. And again. And again, riding him faster and harder with each snap of her hips.

He started thrusting upwards in time with her.

"Oh fuck, yes, Lover, yes, keep going, keep it up."

Peter did as he was told and picked up pace. Their breathing was getting heavier by the second, chests rising and falling in time with each-other like they shared one pair of lungs just as they shared everything else.

Her nails dug deep into his skin, making him hiss. She swallowed the sound with a kiss, deep and frantic like it was the last one they'd ever share. The headboard was slamming into the wall, but it was barely audible over the sound of their panting and the curses muttered in between.

They climaxed at the same time, mouths parting, but not moving away. They shared each-others' air, each-others' heat, each-others' feelings, everything. Everything was whited-out but her. He threw his head back, eyes squeezing shut and mouth hanging wide, but not making a sound. Felicia's nails drew blood, making his eyes flit open. She was looking at him, curled in on herself.

"Lemme hear you, Lover," she groaned out, "we've got all night."

God, Peter loved being with her so fucking much.

. . .

"Leaving so soon?"

Peter looked back as he did up his zipper. Felicia was still in bed, covers wrapped around her and his sweatshirt in her hands. Peter smiled and crawled up to her. His fingers met hers and he gently pried the shirt from her grasp. She let go and cupped the back of his head, pulling him in for a kiss. Their tongues danced together until Peter had to come up for air. She smiled and traced his lips with her thumb.

"I need to go see Mr. Stark." The sun was up now and he wanted to catch the man before he left for who-knows-what like he usually did in the afternoon.

"Avenger stuff?"

"Not exactly."

"Mmm, are you sure it's more important than me?" She guided one of his hands to her midriff. Even though it was behind silk sheets, he could feel her toned abs rippling.

He sucked in a breath. "No."

She smiled, toying with his hair. "I missed you."

"Me too." He sat back with a sigh.

He'd had sex with her the first time a few months back, and ever since, he'd been addicted. Whenever she was around, he got pulled in like an inescapable vacuum. He knew, objectively speaking, Black Cat and Spider-Man didn't work - it didn't make sense on paper. But Peter and Felicia had so much in common outside their costumes. But still, she was a criminal - the exact kind that Spider-Man swore to stop, yet here he was sleeping with her. It wasn't like he just let her get away with stealing, he still tried to stop her, but he'd be lying if he said he put his full effort into it. Their game was… enticing; it was irresistible. So he couldn't help but play along.

She wasn't a bad person - she just did bad stuff. And as far as bad stuff went, what she did wasn't even that terrible. She stole, yeah, but she only stole from the rich (and people she thought deserved it). She never took from people who needed the stuff. She was a daredevil and loved the thrill of crime. And she liked riches. But she never hurt anyone.

So was she really that bad? Was it really so terrible that he went easy on her?

He didn't know. He wasn't exactly thinking objectively whenever she came around.

He hated to admit it, but the first time he'd seen her, she'd definitely thrown him off, what with the flirting and everything. Also she was… well, she was so pretty and smart and witty and hot. He wasn't a saint. As much as he tried to be a good person, he'd definitely had some… thoughts about her. He'd tried not to entertain them - and he'd mostly been able to do that until he'd see her again. She'd flirt, he'd (unconvincingly) pretend to not get flustered as hell by it. Then she'd run, he'd chase. She'd get away some nights, he'd catch her others, but mostly she'd catch him. And then she'd flirt even harder, get even closer, touch his shoulders and chest.

Then finally, one night, he'd fallen from grace. They'd tumbled into her apartment, into her bedroom, onto her bed, into her sheets. They'd spent hours together, all but going to war, cursing themselves for waiting so long when they'd both wanted it from the start. It was passionate, intense, and thrilling. It was wrong, but it felt so right.

She'd disappeared, as she always did, after that. He hadn't tried to track her down. Then she came back and their game resumed. He chased, she caught, they abandoned their critical thinking for passion.

And so a pattern formed, on and off from week to week. He'd started seeing her more and more often. He loved seeing her, touching her, being with her. And he knew she felt the same way. They had a silent agreement; not dating, but they'd get together when she was around. They didn't need or want anyone else.

She was so much different than MJ had been. MJ had been about love and their sex was soft and supportive. Felicia was about devouring passion - no strings or feelings attached.

That was what he needed at the moment. It was ironic, he'd never seen himself as much of a hookup kind of guy - he'd always felt a little out-of-place in highschool with the other guys because of that. But Felicia was… she was so… it was hard to describe. She was familiar enough that he felt comfortable sharing his body with her, yet the distance between them gave him the space to be himself without owing her anything. The lack of emotional connection made it so he didn't have to think about anything when he was with her. He could let it all go and just feel. She didn't know about his pain - about his nightmares - and it was freeing. She let him be in the moment, outside of his head - outside of it all.

Yet he knew she saw enough to never hurt him.

His fingers walked up her thigh. "Are you sticking around for a bit?" She shook her head. He nodded and pulled his shirt on. "I'll see you when you're back."

"Stay safe, Lover." Before he could get up, she grabbed his collar and pulled him into a long, deep kiss. When they parted, they were each breathing heavily. "I'd hate to lose my favourite plaything."

He smiled and rolled his eyes. Getting up, he went over to the doorway, flashing her a warm smile before showing himself out.

. . .

No matter how many times he walked into the Tower, it was just as intimidating as the first time. Peter wasn't even sure if he had access to the top floors outside of meeting times.

Stepping into the elevator, he noticed there were no buttons for any of the upper (exclusive access) floors. Like the one he was trying to go to. Every time he'd gone up, Happy had been there, so he'd never bothered paying attention to what the man had pressed. Peter's hand hovered over the highest button. Maybe he was supposed to take the stairs from there…? No. That couldn't be it, he hadn't done that with Happy.

He'd considered calling Happy this morning, but decided against it. Ever since May, Peter had gotten the feeling the man had been avoiding him. At first, he'd been pretty supportive, but he was grieving himself. And in time, Peter would catch the man staring at him with sadness in his eyes, as if Peter reminded him of May's death. When the man started to pull away, Peter had let him. He also stopped reaching out to him when he needed advice or anything. Peter couldn't help but get the feeling the man blamed him for May's death. Not that'd he ever said it, but he'd just been different towards Peter ever since: more quiet and… distant. Peter had still been giving updates for a while, but eventually stopped. Now, Peter only saw the man when Tony sent him to get him, like for yesterday's meeting.

Peter sighed, shaking his head to dispel the thoughts.

His hand hovered over the buttons.

"Ini mini, miny, mo-"

"Hello Peter."

Peter shrieked, jumping out of his skin and hitting his head on the ceiling. "Ow!" he rubbed his head and glared at the ceiling like it was the elevator's fault. His glare fell when he saw the big dent in the metal. "Oh crap." He could not afford to pay Tony back for that one. He dimly considered running and pretending he hadn't been there at all when he remembered a voice had spoken.

"My apologies, Peter. I didn't mean to startle you."

Face going beet red, Peter shoved himself to his feet. "N-no, I'm so-sorry. I, uh, I forgot you were here, FRIDAY. Uh, no offence."

"That isn't offensive."

"Oh." His eyes flicked up. "I dented the ceiling. I'm so sorry!"

"I have already informed Tony."

Shit. Welp. Tony knew he was here now, so that was that. "Uh…"

"Your blood pressure has spiked. Are you stressed?"

Yes. "No! I'm- I feel bad."

"No need to feel guilty. I informed Tony it was caused by me scaring you."

"It… ok…"

"Your vitals seem a little off, are you feeling alright, Peter?"

"Uh, I-" Damn. She always knew stuff "-I didn't get any sleep last night. It was uh-" uh "-exams."

"Your last midterm was 8 days ago."

"Uh, I just, uh, am waiting for my marks, is all. It's stressful." That was a lie, he'd already gotten his marks. Peter wrung his fingers, eager to change the topic. "Is Mr. Stark in?"

"Yes. He has requested I bring you to him."

Peter's stomach fell. "Oh?" His voice squeaked. He was in trouble. He broke the man's elevator and now he was going to be reprimanded and possibly billed. He'd probably have to sell his soul to pay for it. This was a very fancy elevator. "I-"

Before Peter could utter another word, he felt the elevator start moving. Sure enough, it climbed past the highest button and then some, up to the 89th floor. The doors dinged open. Peter didn't move. He was faced with a long hallway, the left wall of which was made entirely of windows, climbing, like, 20 feet up. The right wall had a door every so often and above those was a makeshift indoor balcony overlooking the long hall with some more doors five feet in. It was very fancy.

Peter had no idea where he was or where he was supposed to go.

"I have to ask that you exit the elevator, Peter. Someone else needs it."

"RIGHT!" Peter all but threw himself out of it. "Uh, sorry."

"No need to apologize." The doors shut, cutting off his escape. "Tony will be here in a moment."

"Oh. Thanks."

He stood awkwardly.

He stood awkwardly for so long.

Ok, it was probably only, like, a minute or two, but it felt like several lifetimes. Eventually, he looked out the window and, damn, the view was so nice. He was so high up, he could see the skyline un-obstructed. The afternoon sun filtered across the shorter skyscrapers and flooded the hallway. A handful of clouds moved through the sky with the gentle breeze. It was mesmerizing.

It reminded him of when May had taken him up the Empire State to celebrate him getting a scholarship for Midtown High. He was so afraid of going that high up, but she'd held his hand the whole time and he'd felt safe. It was also at that time that he'd discovered his love for photography. It was a good memory.

"Kid."

"GAH!" Peter's heart, for the second time in a five minute span, jumped into this throat. He whirled so fast, he accidentally threw himself back and into the window. Thank Odin it didn't break.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Someone's jumpy." It was true. Ever since the Green Goblin beat the shit out of him and killed May, Peter had been a little on edge. "I can see how your head dented my elevator now."

Peter felt his face erupt in flames. His palms shot out and he stumbled through some form of a plea for forgiveness. Tony rolled his eyes and started walking away.

Welp. That was it. Peter had 'screwed the pooch' for good this time.

It was probably for the best.

After a few feet, Tony cast a glance over his shoulder. "You coming or what?"

Peter blinked then scrambled after him. "Sorry, I didn't know I was supposed to follow you."

"You came here for a reason and, call me egotistical, but I'm assuming it was to talk to me."

"Right, yeah, yeah I, uh, I did, yeah."

"Ok. So?"

"So?"

He rolled his eyes even harder. "What do you want to talk to me about?"

"Oh right, yeah, uh, I was- ok, so during the meeting, you, Dr. Banner, and Stephen decided to work on a cure for the mutant disease."

"Yeah, and?"

"And I was wondering, if it's not too much trouble, if I could kinda, sorta help you guys?" Tony side-eyed him, expression unreadable. "I promise I won't get in the way! I'll just do whatever you guys want. And I know that you guys are all super-geniuses and everything, and I'm not, but I am smart, I swear! And chemistry is my favourite subject in school and I know all the lab equipment - well most - but I'm a quick learner. And I know I'm going to be busy with school and patrolling, but I'll dedicate all my spare time to this, I promise. I really wanna help, and I know you might be hesitan-"

Tony held up a hand and Peter clamped his jaw shut. "Sure."

Peter blinked, leaning closer, wondering if he'd misheard the man. "Huh?"

"I said sure."

"Really?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Idunno. I mean for starters, I just broke your elevator…" He was really expecting to have to work hard to convince Tony to let him help. He had a whole argument and everything planned out.

"You're really hung up on that elevator, aren't you?"

"I-" he deflated "-I feel bad."

"I literally could not care less about it."

"...ok."

"Ok. I'll have Happy let you know when we start."

Peter tilted his head. "You guys haven't gotten a sample of the disease yet?"

Tony's face pinched. "No." He sounded really serious. As much as the man always pretended to be indifferent, Peter was pretty sure he cared more than anyone.

"I'm sure you will soon." Peter had no idea if that was true. He didn't know how many mutants there were out there much less the likelihood of meeting one.

"Yeah, we'll see." He side-eyed Peter again. "You know anyone?"

Peter shook his head.

The man's face was tense.

Peter was about to utter some other form of hollow assurance when everything swayed, his blood drained from his head and caused black spots to bloom in his vision. His legs stalled. His eardrums deflated, sound muffling like it was miles away. The whole world was suddenly behind several layers of glass, cutting him off of his six senses. Every muscle tried to go slack at the same time, and he had to catch himself by slumping into the wall. He heaved a breath, feeling like he'd just ran a marathon he didn't know about.

Something wasn't right.

Something felt wrong.

"Kid?"

A voice wavered through the muddled mess that was Peter's auditory processing. It took several seconds to make out what it had actually said, and then another lifetime to gather the strength to raise his head to look at the origin. His vision was still speckled with black and neon spots.

He felt something drip down his upper lip. His fingers prodded at the spot, feeling wet. He withdrew them to find red. His nose was bleeding. He felt another drop collect then fall, hitting his open palm and splattering, bright against his pale skin, which looked as white as paper.

That same voice said something, but Peter couldn't make it out. It was getting farther away. The blood was getting farther away. His hand was getting farther away. The floor, the wall, and air was all falling away. Peter's body didn't exist anymore, every appendage slipping into the void.

. . .

"He's waking up!"

That was a weirdly unsettling thing to hear right off the bat.

Oof.

Peter's head hurt. Like, real bad. It felt like the pressure had skyrocketed and his eyeballs were about to pop out while his eardrums exploded.

"How're you feeling?"

"Ugh," Peter responded intelligently. Where was he again? Had he figured that out yet? He couldn't remember.

Oh.

He was in the Medbay. He knew that because he'd been there once before back when he'd first been introduced to the Avengers (as Peter Parker) and Bucky (aka the Winter freaking Soldier eeeeeeeee!) had taken it upon himself to give Peter a good 'ol initiation ceremony in the form of 'training' (Peter was pretty sure it wasn't so much initiation as it was payback for Germany). He hadn't meant to throw Peter that hard into the brick wall, he swore! The man had actually seemed very genuine in his apology. Peter could've sworn he might've seen the start of tears for a split second. Peter kinda felt bad about it and did his best to assure the guy that was fine. "I get thrown into walls all the time," he'd said. It didn't seem to make Bucky feel any better, though.

All things considered, getting beat up by an Avenger (again) was kinda cool.

Thor wasn't there though.

He would've preferred to be beaten up by Thor.

Peter just hoped he'd get to meet the god of thunder before he died. Because he was a hero, that was all. No other intentions. And definitely not because he was literally the hottest being to ever exist, with his ripped abs: like, 12. And his silky hair flowing like a golden waterfall. And his perfect teeth, as crisp as freshly fallen snow. And his massive biceps and even massiver thighs that Peter would gladly let crush him. And, what Peter could only assume was an ungodly dick. Not that he thought about that a lot- or- or at all. Of course not!

Anyway, Peter wanted to meet Thor. For professional reasons only.

Of course.

A muffled voice caught Peter's attention and he re-focused his brain. Tony and Stephen were looking at him.

Wait, he was in the Medbay? Since when?

Oh no. The two men were looking at him like they wanted him to respond. What had they said? Peter wasn't listening.

Inhaling slowly, and silently hoping to be cut-off, Peter responded. "In a way… you're both right."

Both men's eyes squinted in unison, confused. They shared a look like Peter was insane.

"Ok fine!" Peter threw his hands up in defeat. "I wasn't listening. What did you say?"

Both men stared at him for a few painstakingly long seconds more. Tony half-turned away from Peter to face Stephen, lowering his voice a little like it was supposed to make it harder for Peter to over-hear him even though he was standing, like, 3 feet away. "Are you sure he doesn't have a concussion?"

Peter frowned in offence.

Wait. Why was he in the Medbay again? Ugh, his head still hurt. The pressure had lessened a little, but it still hurt.

"He's rubbing his head, he's gotta have a concussion."

"I checked, he doesn't."

"Check again."

"I'm sorry, do you wanna take over? You, the man who builds robots obsessively? Or do you wanna let me, the neurosurgeon with an eidetic memory, do my fucking job?"

Tony grumbled something about Stephen's eidetic memory being shit 'cause he always seemed to forget he was an ass.

Peter didn't think that was how eidetic memories worked.

Stephen shot the man with a look then turned his focus on Peter. "How're you feeling? You didn't answer me."

"'M alright. How're you?"

Stephen quirked an eyebrow. "I'm not the one who passed out while walking down a hallway, so, compared to you, I'd say I'm fine. Now answer me for real. How are you feeling? You keep rubbing your temples, do you have pain in your head?"

Peter blinked. He'd passed out?

Oh shit. That was right. He had. Oof. That was embarrassing.

"Uh, I have a headache. Well, there's a lot of pressure in my head. And it hurts, but it's not like a headache, y'know?"

Stephen nodded. "I'm gonna do a couple of tests."

"Tests? What kind of tests? And why?"

"I'm gonna check your vitamin levels, check for illness, and all that jazz. And as to why: because passing out at random isn't a sign of good health." Peter didn't say anything. "Hold out your arm."

Peter saw a needle sitting in the man's hand. "You're taking my blood?!"

"Don't tell me you have a fear of needles."

"No. I just- do you have to?" He got a look in return. "Fine."

Peter averted his eyes. He didn't strictly have a fear of needles, but he had a healthy apprehension to small thin objects piercing his blood vessels to steal his DNA. A wipe was on his skin and a second later a sharp pinch in his forearm made him clench his jaw. Ew.

With a start, Peter realized the man wasn't actually holding the needle with his hand; he was using magic to do it. His hands were shaking and each finger had a long mark running down them, looking like keloid scars.

After collecting a couple vials, Stephen left to go to the Medbay lab thingy down the hall. That meant Peter was left alone with Tony.

A few thousand years passed, the room painfully silent. Had Peter always breathed this loudly? It sounded so loud right now.

He couldn't take it anymore. Inhaling, he opened his mouth to say something when he was cut off by Tony, who had pretty much been staring at him the whole time. "So what happened back there?" Peter's mouth stayed stuck open. Hell if he knew. He shrugged, mouth clicking shut. "You just got light headed and-" the man gestured to his own head "-passed out?"

"I guess."

"That's not normal."

"You're not normal."

Tony's eyes widened and he jerked forwards. "Excuse me?!"

"UH!" It had just slipped out! "NOTHING!"

A few heartbeats passed, Tony continuing to stare at Peter like he was deciding whether or not to let it slide.

He let it slide.

Boy howdy, Peter would never consider himself to be a lucky fella, but he'd lucked out this time, that was for sure.

The man pinched the bridge of his nose, but didn't say anything more.

Welp.

A few more minutes passed. Peter felt bad he'd accidentally insulted the guy. After fighting so many baddies, sass was just an automatic response.

Peter decided he'd make it up to Tony with a story of a dog he'd seen last week. "So I saw this dog last week-"

"Both of you shut up." Stephen came back into the room. He walked right up to Peter, pulling a seat up to the side of the bed. He had a notepad in hand. "Peter, over the past few days, have you been experiencing any symptoms?"

Peter blinked. "Of…?"

"Anything."

"Uh… no?" Stephen gave him a look. "Uh, I guess, I've been feeling a little light headed? Like mostly when I stand up, but sometimes other times too."

"Light-headed," the man muttered and jotted down on his notepad.

"Uh, also, I guess I've been pretty tired. But I'm pretty sure that's just from mid-terms and stuff, y'know."

"Tired how?"

"Like… uh, like, just drained and whatever."

"Like 'I didn't get any sleep last night' kind of tired, or 'I ran a 10k marathon.'?"

"Uh, more- more the marathon."

"Ok." He noted it. "Anything else I should know."

"That depends on what it is you're trying to find out." Peter tried peering at the notepad, but saw nothing of value. "Why're you asking me stuff?"

"Because I'm trying to assess something."

"And what is that?"

"I'll tell you in a minute, but right now I need you to cooperate, even if it is in your nature to defy everyone trying to help you." Peter's face soured. He glared at Stephen. The man rolled his eyes, but ultimately backed down. "Look, kid, I just want to double check this before I say anything, ok? I'm looking for any reason why I could be wrong."

Well what the fuck was that supposed to mean?! That didn't sound good at all. "Wrong about what…?"

"Is there anything else I need to know?"

Peter stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out what the heck was going on. He got nothing. "I've been getting some pretty bad headaches over the past couple days."

"Can you identify a specific trigger?"

"No."

"Is that all?" Peter nodded. "Ok." The man stayed still, staring at his notepad for several heartbeats.

"Doc-"

"Peter there's…" the man trailed off, voice becoming faint. That was weird and not like the Stephen Peter knew at all. The man cleared his throat. "There's no easy way to say this: you're sick."

"What?" Tony spoke first.

Meanwhile, Peter just tilted his head in question. "I have, like, a cold? Or the flu? Or…?"

"No." Stephen shook his head, looking more solemn by the second. "Peter. Your DNA, it's… you have the X-gene."

"The X gene? Like- wait- am I technically supposed to be female?" Peter knew that chromosomes were more complicated than people thought. Two X chromosomes didn't always lead to female and an X and a Y didn't always lead to male. It was a lot more complicated than high-school biology made it out to be. Maybe he had two X chromosomes. Neat.

"Wha-?" Stephen frowned in confusion before realizing what Peter was talking about. "No. Kid, you have the mutant gene."

Peter blinked. "I got bit by a spider, and, yeah, my DNA mutated-"

"Peter. You're not understanding me. You are a mutant. You have the mutant disease that's going around."

Peter blinked again. Ok, the man had lost him, he was a what now? And he had what now? Say what now?

"Waitwaiwaiwait-" Tony stepped forward, echoing Peter's own thoughts "-he's a mutant? What the hell are you talking about, what the hell are you saying? Why're you- he's not sick. He- you heard him, he got bit by a spider. You're mistaken."

"Tony." Stephen's voice carried differently and Peter didn't like it. Tony looked back at Peter, face fallen, like he was looking at a dead man. Peter didn't like that either.

Peter massaged his pounding temples. "I don't understand. I got bit by a radioactive spider, that's why I have powers, not because of a mutant gene."

"My guess is that the spider triggered your mutant gene to activate. It didn't cause the mutations themselves."

O….k? That was… but he wasn't… he'd just gotten… it was… he couldn't be… and the disease…

Oh god.

Peter's stomach fell, reallization hitting him like that train once had. "I'm… I'm a m- a mutant?"

Peter heard the doctor inhale in sympathy. "Yes."

A heartbeat. "Oh." Another heartbeat. "Ok well, I'm just gonna-" sliding off the bed, Peter's legs decided to not work, sending him crashing to the ground, his poor face was saved only by his arms shooting out.

"SHIT, KID!" Tony was at his side in an instant. "Just take it easy, will you?"

"I'm-" he was breathless, lungs strained for some fucking reason "-fine."

"Uh huh, yeah, sure you are." Tony helped Peter up and back onto the bed. Peter flopped back, the prospect of sitting up suddenly seeming like too much work.

"What's going on now, talk to me." Stephen's hand was at his wrist, pinching it right below his thumb.

"T'red," Peter slurred.

"Ok. your heart seems to be getting a work-out right now. You gonna pass out on me?"

Peter rolled his head back and forth, eyes shut.

Tony's quiet murmuring filled the air. "So what's the plan? What treatments, or whatever, are there?"

"Tony."

"Don't- don't give me that look. You're a fucking neurosurgeon, don't tell me there's nothing you can fucking do."

"What I can do is start working on a cure." Stephen's voice dropped low. "We can start now. We can get a sample of the disease."

"Fuck."

"Do I hav' to get 'nother needle?" Peter slurred.

He heard both men turn towards him. "Yes," Stephen said. "Are you able to sit up?"

Peter groaned, but did as he was told, hooking his legs over the side of the bed as Stephen fetched a syringe, gloves, and that rubby tie thingy again. Tony was hanging out at Peter's side looking ready to catch him if he started to fall off the bed.

Stephen had Peter make a fist. "You know the drill. Another poke." The neele stayed in longer this time, something like eighth vials being filled.

"Are you gonna drain me?"

"These vials only hold around a tablespoon of blood each, so no."

"Oh. It looks like more."

"Yeah."

"What happened to your hands?"

Stephen's eyes flicked to Peter. Peter hoped he hadn't struck a nerve. The man's focus returned to the needle. "I crashed a car and all the bones in my hands were shattered."

"Ouch."

"Yeah."

"Is that why you use magic for stuff like this?"

"Yes. I don't think you'd want a shaky doctor inserting a needle into your arm."

"That's fair."

Finally the needle retracted from his skin with a pinch and Stephen pressed a cotton ball into the crook of Peter's elbow, telling him to hold it there. He did.

He was a mutant.

He was sick with the mutant disease.

That whole 'seeing Thor before he died' timeline suddenly seemed a lot shorter.

Dang. That sucked. Or didn't - that was the problem- I MEAN WHAT?

Huh?

Anyway.

Back to him finding out he was gonna die at the ripe old age of 18 and a half.

Welp, he'd had a… well, not a good life. But it could've been worse… he could've been in foster care when he was six, so, yeah, it coulda been worse.

"I'll get these down to the lab and start working. We might need to collect some more from you from time to time." Peter nodded. "In the meantime, take care of yourself. Eat healthy, regular meals, and rest. You may want to consider taking a break from school, or taking a lighter course load."

"Ok." Peter either couldn't or wouldn't be doing any of that. Welp.

"Try not to worry."

"Ok."

"Stress suppresses the immune system."

"Ok."

Stephen sighed. "I'lll see you later, kid."

"Bye."

"I'll be there in a sec," Tony said to his departing goatee twin. He turned to Peter. "Well, now that we have a sample, we'll get that cure in no time."

"Yeah ok."

"Kid." Peter didn't respond. "You're gonna be ok, ok?"

"Ok."

A pause. "You wanna nap here or go upst-"

"I'm good to go now."

"You don't have to leave-"

"I'm fine. I should get a head-start on my classes."

A pause. "I think I agree with Stephen: you should take the semester off-"

"No." He wanted to keep working towards his degree, even if it was futile. He wanted- he didn't want to give up on the only thing that would give him a chance to turn his life around. He wasn't letting that go. "No."

Another pause. "Ok. just- just promise me you'll take it easy."

"Sure."

"Ok then, I can walk you out."

"It's fine. I know my way. Stephen's waiting for you."

"You wanna help us get started? I know you wanted to help before."

Peter bit his lip. "Maybe- maybe next time. Just- I need… I wanna be alone right now."

"Ok. I understand." He hesitantly shuffled towards the door, hands in pockets. "I've got your back, kid. Me, Bruce, and Stephen. Remember that."

With that he left.

Peter sat there for some time, mind buzzing, loud but hollow. For how long he stayed there, he didn't know, but when he blinked, the sun was starting to set, casting an orangey glow across the clouds. Peter left, legs shuffling on auto-pilot and mind blank, guiding him back to his apartment. He sat in the dark of the rest of the night, legs tucked close and the chill of the kitchen tile seeping through his clothes and pricking his skin. He barely felt it.

He barely felt anything.