contando ovejas
Lights blurred Pavitr’s vision as he drummed his fingers against his thigh anxiously. Rain pattered against the window, the only sound audible in the silent room.
Miguel’s body lay sprawled across Peter’s bed, the man having heaved him onto it some time ago. He was dressed in sweats, bandages covering his chest. Hobie had quirked an eyebrow when Peter had silently gotten clothes in Miguel’s size, blessedly keeping quiet.
The teenagers watched as his chest rose and fell steadily, wheezes forcing their way out of his lungs on occasion. An hour had passed since he’d collapsed on the couch, body glitching furiously. They’d all lunged to catch him, slowed by their own injuries. Jessica had managed to slow his fall, using her own watch to stabilize him.
It had taken a while to get the suit off him, even longer to pry the children from his arms whenever they brushed against him. Hobie had joked they needed to get him a teddybear when he woke up.
No one mentioned how they didn’t know when that would be.
When Miles first saw the gashes hidden underneath he thought he was submerged in a nightmare, the steadily dripping red smearing onto his hand assuring him that this was very much real. His hands shook next to Gwen as he helped wrap the wounds Peter had managed to stitch.
He tried not to think of how far gone Miguel truly was if he didn’t even react to the needle piercing his skin.
“Done,” Peter muttered, securing the final stitch, ushering the group to sit down, “now all we can do is wait.”
“…how long?” Pavitr piped up, resting heavily on Hobie’s shoulder. It pained Miles to see their most carefree member sporting such deep weariness on his face, tear tracks still glistening on his cheeks.
He didn’t receive an answer.
Taking a shaking breath, Pavitr snuck a glance at Miguel’s slack talons, only the smallest tremor confirming the life still dormant inside him. Closing his eyes he remembered the sight of those same talons tearing through flesh like a hot knife through butter. He flinched, the sound still echoing through his head.
He never noticed how his spider-sense had never gone off during the rampage.
Opening his eyes, he ignored Gwen’s noise of concern, instead taking Miguel’s hand in his own, running a finger along the sharp ridges embedded in the man’s skin. They seemed smaller now that their wielder was laying prone in bed.
Somehow that just made him feel worse.
“He really is part vampire, huh?” Miles muttered, drawing a snort from the others.
“Spider, actually,” Peter corrected absentmindedly, cleaning away any leftover blood.
“No shit,” Hobie deadpanned, picking at his nails.
Peter stared at him.
“More than us, I mean.”
Gwen hummed thoughtfully, “so that's why he was all-“ she waved her hand around.
“Yup.” The lump on the bed growled softly.
“Speak of the devil,” Hobie snorted.
His wry smirk fell as the noise only grew in volume, Miguel starting to twitch, one eye opening to a crimson slit, pupil a tiny speck against his iris. Hoisting himself upright, they watched as he clawed at the sheets, frantically scanning the room.
Peter pulled them back to reality, darting forwards.
“Hey hey hey, back down you go fella. There you go.”
Whatever energy he’d used to jerk himself awake evaporated the moment Peter’s hand pushed him back down, the children watching as his eyebrows scrunched with confusion.
“Gabi…?” he muttered dazedly.
Peter’s expression fell, gaze softening.
“Oh Miggy…,” he sighed, “she isn’t here anymore.” Hobie watched with morbid fascination as momentary clarity flashed through Miguel’s eyes before being overtaken by fury, jaws snapping up at Peter as the other jumped away, reaching to grab something out of sight.
He could feel Pavitr trembling beside him as Miguel rocketed out of bed, barely flinching as the stitches popped. Gwen shot up, readying her webs as he turned his gaze upon the children, anything akin to the Miguel they knew lost in those animalistic eyes.
He only managed two steps before collapsing in a heap, something sticking out of his back.
They stared.
“Sooo…Tranq dart?”
“…Ketamine.”
“WHAT.”
Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, he looked away.
“The other stuff doesn’t work on him.”
Miles giggled, steadily growing louder as the others joined in, the day’s events nearly throwing them into hysterics.
Pulling himself upright, Peter let out one last chuckle, patting Miles on the shoulder as he passed.
“I have to grab some more supplies. You kids stay out of the room until I’m back, yeah?”
“Sure.”
“Yup.”
“Alright.”
“…”
“Hobie.”
“Maybe.”
Shaking his head, Peter left, stepping through the portal, leaving the group stranded in the living room. Miles yawned, feeling the adrenaline finally wearing off, sinking back into the couch. The others joined soon after, twitching limbs and worried minds slowly smoothing over as sleep crept up on them. They curled around one another, slipping into a sleep they could only pray would be devoid of dreams.
Deep down they knew it was a futile wish.