It was the last thunderstorm of the season and Mother Nature seemed to have decided to go out with a bang.

Spider-Man flung himself across a wide gap between two buildings, his thoughts dark, as he navigated across the rooftops. He landed, skidding and nearly falling, and a low grumble escaped his lips: "I can't believe this… I can't freaking believe..."

His words trailed and he didn't bother to finish the thought. There wasn't anyone around to hear him anyways and his breaths were much better spent supplying oxygen to his burning lungs. His boots pounded against the slick rooftops as he sprinted, kicking up splashes in the deep puddles, while his school bag swung wildly from his shoulder. His ribs, still tender from the slap of Vermin's tail, were aching painfully, but there wasn't time to rest.

He'd really screwed up this time.

And the fact that it was all because of his stupid, faulty, home-brewed alarm clock, just made it feel all the worse. Because he'd woken up late, he'd missed the bus he usually took to class; because he'd woken up late, he didn't have time to refill his web-shooters like he'd planned.

Because he'd woken up late, he was not going to be there to help Felicia present their finished Chemistry project.

And on top of all of that, it had to be raining too. Not just any rain either, a full-blown lightning storm of seemingly apocalyptic scale. The sky overhead was lit up every few seconds with strobe-like bursts of flashing light, followed each time by a cacophony of thunder that made the very teeth inside his head rattle.

"Careful up there, Spidey!" A middle-aged man was leaning out of a covered window, the orange tip of his lit cigarette just visible through a sheet of rainwater. "It's a gully-washer out here!"

Spider-Man gave the man a small, two finger wave in reply. There wasn't time to chat unfortunately.

Professor Marconi's class had already started and the first set of lab partners were probably giving their presentations right now. He and Felicia were scheduled to go second, and with a twenty-minute time limit on the presentations taken into account, Spider-Man estimated he had less than five minutes to find a dry spot just outside of campus where he could change clothes. If he was lucky (for once in his life) maybe he could slink into Professor Marconi's lab without getting chewed out in front of the whole class. Sure, this would be sixth time he was late this semester, but if he had a good excuse this time… well, maybe she'd let it slide. Stranger things had happened.

The clock tower on the edge of campus came into view as Spider-Man crested a peaked metal roof. He was almost there. With a sudden burst of optimism, he slid down a sloped roof towards the guttered ledge, then launched himself into open air.

He was too preoccupied thinking about school to pay attention to the buzzing sensation at the back of his neck, so he didn't notice the subtle shift in the air until it was far too late. Fat raindrops were splashing against the lenses of his mask, obscuring his vision, when a silver knife suddenly cut through the sky. He saw white and then he was falling, down, down…

down…

Every attempt to move was agony.

It felt like every single one of his muscles was on fire, and his head was pounding too, his poor brain beating a pathetic rhythm against the inside of his skull. He knew, because of some deep-seated instinct, that he couldn't just lay there though, with his body in a puddle and the frigid rain water soaking into every thread of his suit. He had to get up, he had to get moving, he had to get…. Somewhere.

He couldn't quite remember what it was he'd been trying to do.

Something about school. Something ~urgent~.

With measured, painful movements, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, then slowly clambered to his hands and knees, before finally getting his legs beneath him and wobbling upright like a newborn deer. He had landed in one of the city's many alleyways, which probably explained why there wasn't a swarm of people crowded around him, checking if he was dead or not. The longer he stayed there though, the greater chance he'd be found. He needed to get dressed.

His brain was too muddled and his fingers too stiff to unclasp his school bag, so he simply ripped it open, the cheap canvas splitting like paper and giving him access to the bundle of clothes he'd stowed inside. His soaking-wet suit was clammy under his sweatshirt, but there was nothing else for it. Several minutes later, he was wobbling and stumbling down the sidewalk, beating the familiar path into the ESU campus.

Peter had done this walk enough times to navigate it in his sleep, which was a good thing, considering how his vision seemed to want to fade to black every few seconds, before snapping back and bringing the world into sharp focus. He wasn't sure what had happened to him, only that something had hit him, hard, and that the inside of his mouth tasted weirdly like lemons. He was (fairly) certain it wasn't a super-villain's attack – surely they would have came and finished him off while he was unconscious if that was the case. So he tried to put it out of his mind and focus on the task at hand: climbing the stairs to get to Marconi's classroom.

It was slow going, and he had to crawl up at least one flight, but soon he was pushing through a door and into the hallway – the final stretch. And there, at the far end of the hall, like a glorious beacon, a lighthouse pointed over stormy seas, was the stark reminder of why he'd been in such a hurry to get here in the first place: Felicia Hardy.

She was pacing the width of the hall outside the door to Marconi's lab, flicking through a short stack of note cards as she walked. Peter had always held a higher-than-normal level of affection for Felicia ever since their first meeting just a semester ago. Yet now he was filled with doubt.

He wasn't sure that he'd ever really, truly appreciated her until this very moment.

The edges of Peter's vision wobbled again as he staggered towards her, but miraculously she remained in focus. His eyes darted rapidly over her cropped hair, her slender fingers, the bright pink tip of her tongue that was just barely visible, poking from the corner of her lips as she focused intently on her cards.

He wondered if her mouth tasted like lemons too.

"There you are." She looked up from her notes and saw him. A small smile broke across her face. "I wasn't sure if you were going to show up. We lucked out, Flash and Harry were stupid enough to try doing a baking soda volcano and Marconi is laying into them right now. So we've got extra time to prepare…."

Her voice trailed off as she looked at him, concern suddenly flashing across her features, and Peter wished she would just continue talking because she had such a lovely, soothing voice.

"What happened to you?" She asked.

Peter glanced behind him, but the hallway was empty. He turned back to her, the spinning movement causing his vision to blur again.

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Peter, you're bleeding." Felicia was still the only thing in focus and he could clearly see her hands reaching towards him. "And you're soaking wet."

She took him firmly by the shoulders and guided him to the nearest wall. He started shivering as soon as the wet back of his shirt touched the cool bricks and Felicia had to tighten her grip to keep him from collapsing like a house of cards. Slowly, gently, she lowered him towards the floor and propped him in a sitting position.

Peter stared up at her, trembling, still not fully understanding what was happening.

"Keep looking at me." Felicia commanded and he was more than happy to oblige.

How had he never noticed before that her hazel eyes had little flecks of green?

Suddenly, a blinding flash assaulted his eyes. Peter blinked rapidly and tried to turn his head away from the light, but Felicia's hand caught his cheek and held him steady.

"I think you have a concussion." She said and then he realized that she was holding her phone in her other hand, shining a light into his face at an angle. "Did you fall or something?"

"Dunno." He mumbled.

He wasn't sure he could tell her anything about what had happened. He could barely remember himself. Hell, for all Peter knew, he could still be lying in that alley, slowly bleeding to death and experiencing a last-minute fever dream before his ultimate death. Funnily enough, the thought didn't frighten him. He knew first-hand that there were worse ways to go…

Her hand was warm against his cheek and he supposed he really might be in a dream, because he wasn't sure he and Felicia had ever touched each other before, and he was certain she'd never touched him like this. He wasn't sure anyone had… well, besides May probably, or his mother, but he didn't remember her.

"Don't think about your mom when you're with Felicia." He thought, pressing his face further into her hand.

She was so, so warm and everything else in the universe felt so terribly cold. She'd put her phone away and was now just looking at him again, frowning slightly. She made no move to take her hand away.

"Um… what was that about your mom?" Felicia asked, an uncertain twinge to her voice.

"I 'say that out-loud?" Peter slurred.

"Yes…"

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's okay."

"I know you're not my mom."

"I… I know."

"You're like… the furthest thing from a mom." He tried. "Not a dad though, something else."

He wasn't sure when he'd done it, but at some point he'd taken her slender wrist in both of his hands, holding her palm against his cheek. She still didn't pull away.

"Not saying you wouldn't be a good parent. You'd be an amazing mom." He continued and now that his mouth was moving, it didn't seem to want to stop. "If you wanted to be one, I mean. Do you want kids? I haven't thought about it much myself… I just think about you… I mean, no. I don't think about you… you being a mom or – or being… pregnant..."

Felicia's eyes were wider than Peter had ever seen them before and there was a solid ten seconds where she just looked at him, her lip twitching ever so slightly, like she was resisting the urge to laugh – or maybe sneeze. He couldn't tell.

Eventually, she let out a quiet, amused huff and gently pulled her hand away. Peter released his hold on her wrist readily, even though it felt like she was taking away something important, something precious.

"Don't move." She ordered and then she was gone.

Peter languished for a time, desperately wanting to get up and follow her as soon as she was out of sight, but she had told him to stay – so he had no choice but to stay put. His eyes were still rather blurry, so he listened to the sound of her boots as they moved to the lab door and pushed it open. Professor Marconi's voice spilled out into the hallway.

"- I gave exactly one stipulation and that was no baking soda and vinegar volcanoes. I couldn't have been more clear-"

"Prof, no. I'm telling you this is a geyser-" Flash's defense was cut off as the door shut again and Peter was alone once more.

He shivered where he sat and tried to get a grip on himself. The hallway was freezing and he was soaking wet. If it didn't mean disobeying Felicia, He would have tried getting up and heading home, back to his warm, dry bed. He could picture it in his mind's eye faintly, like bits of a dream – his lumpy, but soft mattress, a fat stack of blankets, and the pitter-patter of rain on his window. If he closed his eyes, he could almost feel himself drifting...

"Peter?" Small hands grasped his shoulders, shaking him gently. "Goodness, what happened to him?"

Peter forced his eyes to open barely a slit. Professor Marconi was crouched in front of him, speaking over her shoulder to a pair of legs that were unmistakably Felicia's.

"I'm not sure. He just showed up like this. I think he has a concussion." Felicia's legs said.

"It looks like he got hit by a truck." Said another voice. Peter recognized the deep timbre that belonged to Professor Marconi's teaching assistant. "What are you doing here, Parker? You look like you need a hospital."

"Erm fine… we have… presentation." Peter articulated. He had to make it clear to them why it was so important he came, he had to explain. "Felicia worked reeaally hard, and I too. We… we tested… making as- asp – apro." What had their project been about again? He couldn't get the word out. "Aphrodisiacs."

"He means Aspirin!" Felicia shrieked and Peter glanced up just in time to catch an unusual shade of scarlet painting her cheeks. "He's talking about Asprin. Our project is about making asprin at home. Not his home! Or mine. Just any home… homemade."

There was another heavy, lengthy silence. Peter had never heard Felicia so flustered and he had no idea why she was acting that way.

"Right… well, you won't be presenting today, Peter." Professor Marconi finally said. "Eddie, call an ambulance, please, and then go outside and wait for them. You'll have to bring them here." She turned back to Peter. "And you, just sit still and relax. Help will be here soon, okay?"

"Mmkay." Peter said, not particularly bothered one way or the other.

Professor Marconi and Felicia hovered over with him until the paramedics arrived and put him on a gurney. As friendly as they all were, none of them seemed particularly concerned that he had ruined his and Felicia's presentation, no matter how he tried to explain it to them.

"I'll need to notify his family and we should probably have someone ride with him to the hospital." Professor Marconi was saying as Peter was strapped down. "Felicia, would you be willing to go with him?"

"Oh, um, yes." Felicia said. "Yes, I can."

And even though he felt like he was one second away from puking, and thought he might freeze to death, and could barely see, Peter couldn't seem to find it in him to care at all. His heart swelled to the point where he thought it may just burst.

He was standing at the front of class, Felicia by his side.

"So what you're telling me, is that after all this time, all this supposed work that you've been doing, this is what you have to show for it?" Professor Marconi's voice was harsher than Peter had ever heard it before.

"I- I don't know. I don't know what happened – I…" Peter looked down at his note cards, but everything he'd written on them was scrambled and messy. It looked like all his notes had been rained on. "I thought… I thought we had a good presentation."

"I told him it was terrible, Professor!" Felicia cried, distraught. She backed away form Peter. Her face was streaked with tears. "But he wouldn't listen! He said he had it under control. He acted like he was sooo smart."

Vermin was wearing Professor Marconi's pantsuit. He tapped one of his long claws on the edge of her desk.

"Tsk Tsk. I knew that you would mess this one up, Parker. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"I- I-I…" Peter gestured between himself and their smoldering, crumpled baking soda and vinegar volcano. It look like a three-tiered wedding cake. "I tried my best."

"I've heard and seen enough." Professor Vermin snarled. He turned away from Peter. "I think we'll leave your fate up to the class. It's been so long since they had a decent meal. What do you all think? Are you hungry?"

Peter looked at his classmates and was horrified to see that every single one of his friend's had been replaced, their desks now occupied by hairy beasts that had far too many legs, razor-sharp pincers, and red eyes that glowed like shimmering rubies.

"YESS!" They all chittered.

Peter awoke with a start, sitting up in his bed.

He blinked under the harsh florescent lights until the room came into focus. He was in a hospital room – that much was immediately obvious, wearing a gown and a heart monitor on the tip of his finger, which was beeping loudly – going completely haywire.

"Whoa. Hey, hey, hey." A soothing voice spoke from his right and Peter twisted his neck to find it was Felicia. She was standing on the edge of his bed, looking at him with her forehead creased in concern. "Don't go anywhere. Just – just lay back down."

"Felicia," Peter gasped. "You're still here."

"Yeah, of course I am. Lay back down, Peter, seriously."

She put a hand on his shoulder and pressed lightly, forcing him backwards. Peter wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and flopped onto the bed to stare at the ceiling. He was too embarrassed to look at her.

"I think you had a nightmare," Felicia said. "You were moving around and… uh, moaning and stuff.."

"Oh. Yeah?"

Great, just how he wanted Felicia to see him – whimpering from night-terrors, covered in sweat, and wearing absolutely zero pants. Just wonderful.

"Do you want me to get a nurse?"

"No, no. I'm fine." He said, but she didn't look convinced. She stood over his bedside, that worried look still on her face, and Peter cast about quickly for something to talk about. He did not want her worrying about him. "Um… how long was I asleep?"

"Not long. I thought you weren't supposed to fall asleep when you had a concussion, but the doctor said it was okay."

"Yeah. That whole 'don't fall asleep' deal is just an urban myth. It's actually good to sleep when you have a concussion, especially when the…" He let out an awkward cough. Some of the morning's events were coming to him in flashes. "When the symptoms are acute."

"You sound like you're talking from experience."

"N- no. Not really. That's just what I've read."

He didn't exactly want to tell her that he'd had his head slammed into a locker more than a few times throughout high school, and he definitely couldn't tell her that Tombstone had dropped a girder weighing half a ton on his head a few weeks ago. So he just smiled at her weakly until she seemed to relax.

"Got it. Well, the doctor did say that you could take this if your head hurt." She collected two paper cups from the side table, one with a pill, and the other filled with water. "Tylenol." She said, smirking. "No aspirin. Sorry."

"Ah, very funny." Peter didn't want to think about aspirin or their chemistry project. He kind of just wanted to fall asleep again so he could wake up and hopefully find that today had all been some kind of dream in a dream. A meta-dream, if you will. "Aspirin would increase my risk of bleeding, so this makes sense."

"If you say so." Felicia sat herself in an armchair at his bedside as he took his medication, her legs curling up comfortably beneath her. "Marconi told me there might not be time in the semester for us to present our project, so she's just going to grade our written portion."

Fresh embarrassment washed over Peter and he sighed heavily.

"Oh, damn… I'm sorry, Felicia. I really didn't mean to mess this up for us…"

"Don't apologize." She waved her hand as if to bat away his words. "Our written portion is strong and, honestly, I'm glad we don't have to follow Harry and Flash's disaster. Marconi was pissed. So this is best case scenario in my book. Of course," Her hand waved in his general direction next. "besides all this, I mean."

"Yeah." Peter said, because he didn't know what else to say. He still didn't feel great about the whole thing.

He tried to hide his disappointment though, what with Felicia still looking at him. A thoughtful expression fell across her face as she examined him, playing idly with the ends of her short hair all the while. A moment later she commented in a casual voice: "You know, they were saying it looks like you were struck by lightning."

Peter had downed his pill, but he was sipping on the remaining water when she said it, so naturally he choked and spit water all over the side of the bed.

"Wh- what?" He spluttered. "No I didn't- that's ridiculous-"

"I didn't believe it at first either." The door to the hall, which had been ajar, swung open fully to let Aunt May stride through. She was dressed in her familiar navy scrubs. "But then I took a peek at your chart." She continued. "Imagine getting struck by lighting in the heart of Manhattan, surrounded by all those buildings. Your uncle always said that that the 'Parker Luck' was real, but I never believed him until recently."

She shook her head at Peter, but smiled kindly at Felicia.

"Thank you for staying with him, dear." May said to her. "But he's going to be alright. They're going to release him later tonight most likely, as soon as the scan results get back. Besides a minor concussion, he's the picture of perfect health, believe it or not."

"That's good." Felicia returned May's smile. "I'll… just get going then, I guess. I left my bag and all my things in our Chemistry class."

A cold, empty feeling that had nothing to do with his concussion or their project settled over Peter as Felicia climbed out of her chair. With a final, slight smile and a 'see you later', Felicia slipped out the door, and Peter was alone with May.

She busied herself with checking his heart monitor and smoothing his sheets, then plucked the empty water cup from Peter's hand, depositing it in the bin on the floor before looking at him again.

"So, are you're going to tell me how exactly one manages to get struck by lightning in the middle of New York City?" She asked. There was no accusation in her words, but something about her tone made it obvious she wanted the truth – nothing else.

It made this next part harder.

"I was on a roof." Peter sighed. He sank further into the bed, pressing the heels of his hands over his eyes. "It was stupid – I was stupid. I was trying to collect rain samples… for our next chem-lab."

He couldn't see her with his eyes covered, but experience told him she was worrying her lip as she weighed his explanation. She seemed to buy it, as he was almost sure she would. May never questioned the lengths Peter went for school work. But still, lying to her like that yet again was like the most deplorable cherry atop the world's shittiest sundae.

What a disaster of a day…

At this point, he just hoped 'Local Idiot Survives Being Struck by Lightning' wasn't the headline of the evening news.

"I see." May said eventually. "Well, you're lucky to be alive. Please promise me you won't be climbing on any more rooftops. And apologize to Felicia too. That poor girl was practically draped across you, sobbing into your chest when they brought you in. We had to peel her off with a spatula."

"Not true! You did not!" Peter argued, throwing his hands off his face and letting them land heavily in the bed. "Not funny."

But May just laughed and laughed, turning away to check something on her pager, while Peter fumed helplessly.

Everything aside, it tortured Peter to think that Felicia had been worried about him, Marconi and May too.

If only Harry, or even Flash for that matter, had been the one to bump into him in the hall outside of class, then Peter might not have embarrassed himself as much. Either one of them would have probably found the whole thing hilarious, honestly, and they likely still would get a kick out of it if they ever found out.

One thing was for certain though – he definitely, under no circumstances, would be telling Black Cat.

Thanks to everyone who left kind comments. This was just a short intermission before part two, which should be ready to be posted soon. In the meantime, come talk to me on tumblr: ada-mike.

Thanks for reading,

Mike