*Saturday afternoon- Cosmic Con*
“How can we even be having this conversation? You go to a smart school.” MJ shook her head in disappointment. “And while I am not actually invested in your health one way or another, I would be remiss in my duties as a human being to not advise you that, if you put that or any other mask on, you are going to catch some funky disease and end up camped out on some random sketchy bathroom floor begging for death.”
Even as they stood amongst the throng of fans pressing against the table filled with 100% American made, guaranteed authentic unauthorized replica masks of every Batman villain in the DC Universe, Peter could not understand her point.
“You’re being paranoid, MJ. Look!” He dropped the much handled mask that was in his hand, and grabbed at one still packed in plastic from closer to the bottom of the pile before pulling it from its packaging. “I’ll even try on a fresh one, just to make you feel better.”
“I know what I said and I meant what I said. I am telling you, Peter. You’ll regret this decision one way or another.”
“But MJ! It’s Bane!” Peter offered up the odorous latex mask to her as though he were offering up a holy relic. “BANE!”
MJ simply took a step back, rolled her eyes, and threw her hands up in defeat. “Whatever, loser. It’s your funeral.”
Peter glared at his newest friend before looking to Ned for support. “C’mon, Ned. Back me up!”
“What?” Ned startled as he looked up from the enamel pins displayed on the same table. “Oh, yeah, for sure,” he replied, having no clue what was going on. “You know I’ve always got you.”
“See!” Peter waved his arms about wildly as he got even more worked up, “Ned says I’ll be fine!”
MJ cast an unimpressed glance past Peter to Ned, once again focused on his own quarry. “I’m pretty sure that’s not what he said.”
Peter peeked over at Ned, realized it was a lost cause, then tossed the mask back at the table in frustration. “Fine! But when we start planning for Halloween and you’re dressed up as Catwoman and looking to for a villainous DC duo to team up with, remember this moment.”
MJ’s eyes narrowed as she stared down the boy. “I’m sorry?”
Peter gulped as he stared back. Had he failed to mention that she’d play a part in their ultimate DC villain trio—and maybe look way better than either of them while doing it?
Slowly, MJ placed her hands on her hips, her gaze more intense than ever.
Peter blinked, thought for a second, and paled. Yeah, he had definitely said the inside part out loud.
MJ crooked an eyebrow and smiled slyly, “Well then, we can’t risk having that happen, can we. By all means, Peter. Get the mask.”
Peter blinked in disbelief.
Hang on.
This felt like a trap. Was this a trap?
Finally, he had to ask, “Do you mean it?” He gulped and then continued, “You don’t think this will end up killing me or something?”
“Oh, Peter, far be it for me to get in the way of your villain origin story.” Her grin broadened as she stepped back a little further. “I’m gonna head over to Artist Alley while you and Ned finish up with this. Meet me there when you’re done.”
Peter nodded, then ignored the elbows and jostling from the other customers wanting at the table as he watched MJ walk away. “Yeah,” Peter inhaled deeply as he dragged his hand down his face. “I definitely think I’ll need to buy her an apology frozen lemonade for that.” Peter groaned as he absently grabbed at the Bane mask in front of him and focussed again on the table. “But at least our Halloween costumes are set! Hey, Ned, you said you wanted to get Two-Face, right?”
“What?” Ned came back to awareness as Peter grabbed at a still packaged mask to hand over to Ned. “Uh, duh! Thanks, man. It’s gonna be amazing!”
“I know, right?” Peter passed his cash to the vendor for his own mask while Ned gathered up his own extra purchases.
“Right!” Ned repeated, then his forehead scrunched in confusion as he scanned the area. “But hang on a sec? Where did MJ go?”
/-/-/
*The following Monday- Midtown School of Science and Technology*
Something was off. Peter was sure of it.
He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but his spider senses were pinging just enough that he felt physically uncomfortable— and he was literally only sitting in AP World History.
Mr. Johnson was droning on about something to do with the Mongol Empire with his back turned to the class so he could point something out on the map displayed on the interactive whiteboard so Peter took the risk and shifted quickly to do a quick check of the room from his seat.
But Peter saw nothing.
For a minute, Peter was almost able to convince himself that he was imagining it, but the sense persisted, so he did the only thing he could think to do.
Peter texted Mr. Stark.
After all, that had to be the explanation, right? It wouldn’t have been the first time something big was coming and Peter’s spidey-sense had acted as an early detection system. Iron Man and the other Avengers needed to know, and were going to need him! He was sure of it—
—At least until Mr. Stark replied back to Peter’s text, complaining that the only thing Peter could be sensing was that his mentor was actually dying of boredom in yet another drawn out board meeting that Pepper had forced him into when everyone knew he’d much rather be blowing crap up in his lab and—“wait a minute! get off your phone! you’re supposed to be paying attention!”
Peter scowled and tucked his phone away.
Paying attention to Mr. Johnson was infinitely harder to do when Peter was sure that the world could be ending.
The following class period moved along the same way, with Peter barely paying attention to Ms. Warren as she taught something physics related, he imagined. His physical discomfort had increased so who could blame him for not being sure, right? Still, he observed the room as best he could, though it seemed that his senses weren’t sensing at all. The anxiety was simply developing into a headache to go along with the muscle and joint pain that had kicked in and Peter couldn’t help but wonder—was this what happened when his senses went repressed? Unacknowledged? He’d never really needed to ignore them before so...
Peter fanned himself with the booklet that had been placed on his desk at some point as he wondered. Someone must have messed with the thermostat in Ms. Warren’s room, on top of it all.
Peter clapped his hands over his ears as the bell sounded for class change, wishing for the millionth time that the school could find something a little less grating on Peter’s super-hearing, and then collected his books and bag to head over to Mr. Harrington’s class. At least he’d have Ned there with him, and if his Guy-in-the-Chair couldn’t help him figure out what was going on, then no one could.
/-/-/
Ned was already in his seat when Peter turned into the doorway and shuffled into class.
“Peter?” Ned looked concerned. “Dude? Are you okay? You look a little... ”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine... it’s just—“ Peter dropped into the desk seat beside Ned and looked suspiciously around the room. His stomach was a churning ball of nerves. “Something’s up and I need an extra set of eyes.”
Ned didn’t hesitate to put a hand to Peter’s forehead before his eyes widened, “I’ll say something’s up! You’ve got a fever!” Ned turned to the front of the classroom and threw his hand up into the air. “Mr. Harrington, Peter’s sick! Can I take him to the nurse?”
Peter blinked in confusion. “What?” Peter put his own head to his forehead, “I’m not sick. It’s my—”
“You’re talkin’ crazy, Peter.” Ned had hefted Peter’s backpack over his own shoulder and grabbed his books before Peter could protest. “Let’s get you out of here.” With that proclamation, Ned hefted Peter to standing by his elbow and ushered him out into the thankfully deserted hallway and closed the door behind them.
“Ned? I mean it! I’m not sick!” Peter tried to pull away but Ned kept a steady hold.
“Shhhh!” Ned double checked that they were alone. “Fine,” he whispered, “Tell me why you think you’re not sick.”
Peter wiped the sweat from his forehead as he straightened himself up. “My senses are telling me that something’s going to happen.”
“Okay?” Ned was listening. “And? Did you tell Mr. Stark about it?”
“Yes, and he didn’t think it was anything to worry about.” Peter frowned at the recollection.
“Okay? But you’re still convinced. Why?”
“Because my senses are doing something weird!”
“Okay!” Ned pulled Peter further down the hall and away from the door. “Like what?”
“Well, my senses buzzed that something was gonna happen, but now I have a headache and my body is feeling sore and my stomach...” Peter clutched at his stomach and hunched over as it gave a gurgle of warning. “Oh, no.”
With no time to spare, Ned rushed Peter the thirty feet down the hall to the boy’s bathroom, shoved Peter through the stall door, helped to lower him to his knees and backed the hell outta there.
“Oh, f—” Peter couldn’t finish the word before his stomach clenched and forced every food that Peter was certain he’d ever eaten in his entire life out of his body and into the toilet bowl before him. “Please kill me,” he gasped as he flushed the toilet during a brief reprieve from the heaving.
“No can do, Peter, but I can call May for you?”
Ned took the next heave as approval and stepped out of the room.
It was a few minutes before Peter was convinced that his stomach had settled... for now, so he rested his head against his arm on the toilet seat and closed his eyes to catch his breath.
“Knock, knock,” a familiar voice called out as the bathroom door creaked open. “Betty sent me a text saying that you guys had rushed out of the room and I wanted to check in on you.”
Peter brightened, even as he waited to die. “You wanted to check that I was okay?” he croaked out from the stall.
“No, dumbass. I wanted to check that I was right... though kudos to our ridiculously thorough janitor, Mr. Blake, that you didn’t end up on an actual sketchy bathroom floor.” Her focus turned to Ned, who must have snuck in with her when she’d entered, “Tell me, Ned. Has he prayed for death?”
Ned without missing a beat, his cruel answer echoed, “Yup.”
“Awesome.”
Could Peter hear a little laughter in her tone?
“Oh, and I’ve decided I’ll be going out as a mime for Halloween. It’s an underappreciated art form and deserves to be taken seriously... and because I’m a good person, I’ll email you a copy of the chemistry notes later on.”
“Oh. Thanks?”
“Whatever, nerd,” MJ replied, and exited the bathroom.
Peter was sure there was nothing left to do but wallow in his idiocy and bide his time until someone came to collect his sorry hiney, but then Ned interrupted the silence.
“Uh, Peter?”
“Hmm?”
“Did I miss something there?”
Peter chuckled as he braced himself for the next wave. “Yeah, Ned, you absolutely did.”