Variant Strain

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Peter couldn't say for certain if it had been a shift in the air or the scent that had woken him up.

He wasn't entirely certain when he'd fallen asleep either. He'd gone back to the den right after a hearty dinner of broiled chicken and ceasar salad and he'd had to eat slowly once more under his Aunt's gaze. He'd been wary of any incidents with his food, but it looked like he'd gotten that more or less under his control.

He'd had to force himself to stop after the fourth thigh because otherwise no one else would've gotten any. Aunt May had chalked it up to a growth spurt and Anna had been amused. Peter had flushed in embarrassment. He didn't understand why he still felt so hungry... given that he'd just eaten another person... or ex-person... either way it had been over a hundred pounds of flesh and bone and... bits. He really had no business being hungry again.

He was almost afraid to find out whether or not his appetite had any limits.

MJ hadn't come back down after their brief encounter in the kitchen. He tried not to be offended by that. It probably wasn't personal. He guess she was just shy. Really shy.

As he'd lain on the couch, letting his thoughts sort themselves. Letting them chase one another and try to form useful patterns, he'd dozed off without realizing it.

Even monsters need sleep, he mused as he roused himself. He didn't actually move or give any indication that he was aware that someone had entered his territory.

Territory. Why did he think of it like that? Made him sound almost... predatory.

He took a deep breath, disguising it as a sleepy snort. That scent again... the one that reminded him of waffles... crisp and creamy and buttery and... MJ Watson was the only person he'd encountered so far that smelled like that.

What was she doing coming down to where he was sleeping in the middle of the ni--

Peter clamped down very hard on those specific thoughts. Admittedly he'd had these dreams on occasion. A few of them had starred Anna Watson... and her extremely tight spandex exercise outfits... and the occasional one involving her sunbathing in the back yard needing to have sunscreen rubbed onto her creamy shoulders... and now here he was being visited in the middle of the night by a version of Anna Watson who actually was his age and--

He interrupted his own thoughts with a sharp command to focus.

Obviously that sort of thing did not happen in real life.

Obviously.

He opened his eyes a crack and saw MJ Watson's backlit form leaning against the side of the arch leading into the den. He could hear her heart now that he paid attention to it. It was hammering. She was... excited. Nervous?

Well, her Aunt and yours are upstairs asleep right this moment, Cletus' voice floated up, small and thin and the impression of leering. Y'all do anythin' with her and you'll have to be quiet as little church mice.

She wore a white T-shirt with some sort of logo stitched over the left breast... and he wasn't sure what else, since her legs seemed to be bare. The light shining through the thin material of her shirt also gave him a pretty good idea of the figure that she'd been hiding under her hoodie earlier.

She obviously wasn't quite as filled out as her aunt, but there was a definite sense of slightly awkward, coltish grace in how she stood that promised she would be just as spectacular in a few years time.

He couldn't really tell, but it almost looked like she wasn't wearing anything but that shirt.

A small part of him began fervently hoping for the sort of things that didn't happen in real life.

She still had her hair swept to one side, covering the bruises on her face. Peter could make out a faint whiff of blood that he guessed might've meant she'd been picking at the cut on her lip.

Her breathing grew faster. More ragged. He guessed she was steeling herself for something.

He really hoped she was steeling herself for what he'd been thinking.

He really needed something nice to happen to him for a change.

She stepped into the den and his eyes focused on the hand which had been hidden by the arch when she'd been leaning against it.

In all his various fantasies... none of them involved a baseball bat.

He continued to pretend sleep, but his brain had gone into overdrive. Why the bat? What was she going to do with it?

She could be really, really shy.

Alternately, she was very sensitive to rejection. She was definitely very attractive. And she smelled nice. Peter was perfectly prepared to do her bidding to avoid having her resort to the bat so that she could have her way with him.

He took another deep breath and mentally forced himself to focus.

In retrospect, the deep breath was probably a bad idea. Waffles danced in his head again.

She held the bat with both hands and gently prodded him in the shoulder with it. She kept well out of his reach. Curious.

He did not react, continuing to pretend sleep.

None of his youthful dreams and fantasies had covered this particular wake up scenario.

She poked him again. A little more forcefully this time. She said in a harsh whisper, "Wake up."

His eyes snapped open and they locked gazes once more. With his eyes open he could see her more clearly. She had both hands wrapped around the base of the bat, but it wavered and quivered unsteadily. Her hands were trembling.

Having realized this, he noted that she was chewing on her lower lip and her expression was... well... determined was the word that came to mind. He looked right into her eyes and although it was clear that she was scared out of her wits, she wasn't about to back down.

He wasn't entirely sure what he might have done to earn that look. He tried desperately to think of something... anything to reassure her. What he was reassuring her against, he wasn't too clear on, but she definitely needed comfort... and somehow Peter had ended up on the spot.

He opened his mouth and tried to think of something to say.

Total blank.

He took a deep breath still looking desperately for something to say. Finally, as though impatient with his own stupidity, words floated up into his mind and without consciously understanding or considering what he was saying, he spoke,

"Be gentle. It's my first time."

She stared incredulously. Her terror melted away into sputtering, incoherent indignation. "B-b-back off! This doesn't have a safety! It could go off at any moment!"

He blinked at the bat, then to her fierce flashing eyes, then back to the bat. He tried to cover up his laugh and it came out as a snort. He tried to keep his face grave and his voice deadpan as he replied, "So I see."

"I'm serious!" She snapped, her face getting close in color to her hair, brows furrowing into a scowl that was much more adorable than actually threatening. His eyes adjusted quite quickly to the dark. Another data point.

He was grinning openly now. "Oh, yes. Definitely. I wouldn't want to be the victim of your big, long wood going off prematurely."

That seemed to irk her further and she brandished the bat in his face, her fear now completely forgotten. "Stop that." She growled.

"Well, I would, but you're the one who's got it whipped out and now you're waving it in my face..."

"That's not..."

"I'm not sure I could take something so... big," He breathed, clasping his hands in front of him.

"Stop it!"

"Stop what?"

"Smirking!"

"I'm not smirking." Peter pointed out with infinite patience and a definite smirk.

"Yes, you are! You are being a complete smirk-meister! Knock it off."

He chuckled. "You're not making it easy."

"Next thing you're going to say is 'I'm making it hard' right?" She snarled sarcastically.

"Well, you said it not me..." He let his voice trail off meaningfully while letting his gaze linger up and down the length of the bat.

She gave an infuriated snort which was also a giggle and covered her face with one hand.

She was still brandishing the bat with the other hand. "Look... can we... can we start over?"

"Sure." Peter said, sitting up further on the couch. "Just to... ah... just to be perfectly clear, you're not down here to seduce me, right?"

"No." She replied flatly. She gave him a hard look, "Did you want me to?"

"Well, since you mentioned it--" He started to reply, but she raised the bat. "Nope. Not at all. No such naughty thoughts have entered my head. At all. Ever." He tried for a friendly smile. The suspicion did not quite leave her eyes, but it wasn't the terror from earlier. This was a look more of someone who was wary of getting teased rather than someone fearing for their life. He smiled,

She sighed, pointing the bat at him. Her voice was hard. The determination was back in her gaze under the annoyance. "What are you?"

Peter sobered instantly. The words were the mental equivalent of being dunked in ice water. "I'm sorry, what do you mean?"

She jabbed the bat towards him, ""What are you? I mean it's obvious you aren't normal."

"Whoa, hold on, hold on." He held his hands up, "What do you mean by that?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, "Come on. I'm not stupid. First Aunt Anna goes on and on about how smart you are--"

"Wait, your Aunt thinks I'm smart?" Peter felt a slight warm tingle at the thought that Anna Watson might think well of him.

She rolled her eyes and shrugged, "Your aunt likes to brag to mine. You're already going to college next year, right?"

"Yes." Peter said, not sure what else to say to that.

"And I saw you sneak into your house." She said.

"I know. I waved to you." He replied, still uncertain about where she was going with this.

"The handstand, the climb, the leap over the fence..." She started counting things on her fingers by using the bat to awkwardly tap each finger of her free hand. "So I was thinking maybe you were some kind of genius, Olympic level athlete type. I mean, it's far-fetched, but not impossible, right?"

"Um... right." He was getting uncomfortable. Her gaze still bore into him.

"Then I saw what happened at the deli."

Peter licked at his suddenly dry lips. "Say, what did happen there? I was nowhe--"

She held a hand up, "Spare me. I recognized your hoodie. And the moves were the same as when you were doing your routines in your back yard."

"Those weren't--" He began, but she cut him off again with a waggle of the bat.

"You jumped that... that thing... you took it out without breaking a sweat. You did it while they were shooting both of you. Just... like complete wire-fu. It was like a screwed up John Woo movie!"

"I really don't thi--"

She pressed the end of the bat to his chest and pushed slightly forcing him back against the arm rest of the couch. "I was watching you come up the street when that thing landed. I don't think anyone else got as good a look as I did. I know what I saw."

He gulped nervously. "And what did you see?"

"They shot you." She said flatly. "While you were talking to the one guy, the man standing behind you just put the pistol to the back of your head and WHAM. You fell down. Most of your face was missing."

He gestured, "Well, as you can clearly see, that wasn't me. My face is right he--"

She thumped the end of the bat to his chest again. It didn't hurt, but it was getting annoying. He scowled slightly, "Can you please not do--"

At his scowl, she stiffened immediately, pulling the bat back defensively against her body. She spoke the next words hurriedly, as though unsure if he was going to let her keep talking... or breathing. "I know it was you. I saw them shoot you. Through the head. I saw them shove your body in a body bag and dump it into one of the vans."

She sat down heavily in the easy chair and stared at him, her face haunted. "I was so scared I was going to have to tell your Aunt that you were dead. I mean you guys just lost your uncle..." Her voice trailed off uncertainly. She looked away from him, to the kitchen. Peter remembered the expression on her face when she'd seen him come in. She turned her gaze back to him, "You were dead. Now you're not."

She met his eyes and there was that steel behind her gaze once more which was at odds with the adorable scowl she had. "So... I'm going to ask you again. What are you?"

He tried to find something to say. Some smooth, convincing lie that she would accept. Something that wouldn't sound ridiculous and trite and might get her off his back and Cletus' voice began to rise up ready to help him protest his innocence and ignorance, but then he gave her a hard look.

Was there any reason why he couldn't tell her the truth? It wasn't like he knew much of it himself.

I barely know her. His voice drawled, scorn dripping. Why not tell Aunt May? Hell, why not tell everyone?

He couldn't tell Aunt May, of course. She was already dealing with too much. But MJ... he really didn't know her. Perhaps that made it easier.

Actually it did make it easier. He gulped nervously and looked away from her.

"Trying to come up with a good lie?" She asked. It didn't come out unfriendly exactly. She seemed actually curious. "I'm willing to buy alien or super clone thing. Maybe vampire, but you were in the sun a lot, so that's going to take some convincing."

He smiled. Just a little. He'd been what he had been for about twenty four hours now. Questions piled up on questions and it had all just been him. Maybe someone to talk to would be the way to go...

And if she tries to turn on us, Cletus voice drawled darkly, stronger somehow, We can eat her and tell her auntie she ran away or something. Or pretend to be her.

A chill ran down his spine as he immediately closed that line of thought down.

She raised the bat once more, chewing on her lower lip nervously, "I... I can't help but notice you've been quiet an awful long time."

He replied darkly, "I'm trying to decide if I should trust you."

"And?" She asked carefully.

He sighed. "I don't know what I am. Or what happened to me."

"Look if you don't want to tell me--" She began to say but he cut her off sharply with an impatient gesture that had her raising the bat defensively once more.

"No, that's not it. I actually don't know what's going on." He sat up, rubbing at his head, "I'm... something happened last night. It changed me. After Uncle Ben died--" He paused, not sure how to continue.

He looked up and he realized that her stance shifted slightly. Her eyes were sympathetic and the bat was a bit lower down.

He shook his head, "I can't believe that was just yesterday."

"The man who was going to take him away. Take his body away, I mean. I stopped him." His voice dropped, cold, nervous. He wasn't sure what to tell her, but he wanted so badly to tell someone. Anyone... even a girl threatening him with a bat would do. He continued in a quiet, intent voice. All the keyed up emotion of the past day, all that he hadn't been able to let out when he'd cried on Aunt May's shoulder came pouring out in a single terse sentence. "I killed that man."

MJ almost looked like she was about to reach a hand to offer it to him in sympathy, but he didn't notice. He continued on without noticing it. "Then I ate him."

Her hand recoiled. "You what?" Her voice was a hoarse whisper.

Peter spoke softly, intensely. Everything he'd found out from the day before came pouring out. Ed Whelan and whatever it was he had done with the rats. The mutations that had been caused by the thing that had changed him, changed Whelan, changed Kassidy and the vulture thing.

The Hydra. Whatever that was.

He told her about what little he'd learned of Gentek. Of Smith and Jones. He suspected they were the Gentek Security screw-ups the T-bolts had been talking about. How they'd killed his uncle by accident and tried to kill him. About the T-bolts and whatever clean up they were engaged in that resulted in the destruction of the deli.

He told her about his abilities. About his suspicions. He rattled off numbers and statistics, unable to keep his own speculations out of what he told her. He told her about Cletus Kassidy about Kassidy's memories taking up residence in his head when he'd consumed the man.

It hadn't been neat or organized. He'd backtracked often. His words tangling up among themselves and he was forced to backtrack and force his scattered thoughts together. He had no clue what he even said half the time, merely just letting the words come out, with no real conscious thought to them until she would stop him and ask him to explain something else that he had said.

It was three in the morning by the time he'd finished talking. He slumped against the couch, drained, finally. It had all built up inside of him and finally being able to talk about it had been an immense relief.

MJ had taken a seat on the easy chair during most of his recitation. The bat was no longer in her hand, but she had a pillow on her lap and if he'd been paying attention, Peter would have noticed that her hands had bunched into fists in the material whenever he'd spoken of anything particularly harrowing or terrible.

Well, Peter did notice, actually. Despite how involved he'd become in telling his story, he hadn't been able to keep his eyes off her. He watched her ferociously. Intent on her reactions. He had to know what she would do now.

"Why are you acting like you're scared of me?" She demanded quietly after he'd been silent for a few minutes.

He looked at her. "You're the only one who knows all of this now." A part of him quailed. He shouldn't have told her. He should have lied his ass off and now he was going to have to make a break for it when she started screaming.

The screaming was probably going to be starting any moment now.

"I should be scared of you." She said, still in that same quiet voice, she was chewing on her lower lip again. Peter was starting to find that little quirk about as endearing as her cute little scowl. "Hell, I was terrified when I came down here."

"And yet you came down here and started waving a bat at me." He replied, smiling slightly and nodding to the bat that was resting next to her easy chair.

"Because I wanted to know if you're going to hurt Aunt Anna or not!" She snapped testily, her hand briefly dropping to the end of the bat.

He raised both hands in a gesture of mock surrender. "What?! I would never hurt her! She's Aunt May's best friend! And she's nice to me! I don't want to hurt anybody!"

She smiled at that, got up and sat down on the other end of the couch from him. "Yeah, I kind of got that." Tentatively she patted his foot under the blanket and continued, "You really don't want to hurt anybody?"

"Well... no." He scooted his feet back to give her more room. Her sudden decision to sit down on the couch with him had come as a surprise and even with his reflexes he didn't have a reaction to that lined up. Well, not one that wouldn't embarrass him horribly.

She met his eyes and there was something there laying just behind the steel he'd seen earlier. Some strange hint in those bright green eyes that maybe not everything was as it seemed. "You aren't looking for trouble, but you're going to finish it if it comes for you, right?"

"I guess so." He hedged.

There was a strange intensity in her eyes when she asked the next question, "You'll protect your Aunt May? And Aunt Anna, right?" She paused ever so slightly when she finished, "And me too?"

He looked at her, not sure why she was asking, but her gaze told him that it would be bad to disagree. "Sure. Absolutely."

She smiled then, leaning back once more and retreating to her end of the couch. He wasn't sure when she'd leaned over him as she'd asked those questions, but he wondered what set that off.

"Then I've got no problems with you." She said.

"Just like that?" He asked, still not quite sure what had happened.

"Just like that." She replied. "You're a nice monster."

He'd expected just a bit more fear maybe. Or awe. Or something. The sudden blithe acceptance after that strange intensity left him just a tiny bit numb. "I could eat you, you know." He said jokingly.

"Not til at least the third date," She replied. Her voice was teasing. Flirty, almost.

Peter stared stupidly. He'd never actually had anyone flirt with him. He certainly didn't expect it from the rather pretty girl who he'd just confessed to being not-quite-human to.

She laughed, "See? That right there tells me exactly what you are."

"Er... what's that?"

"A nice guy." She grinned. "Who doesn't get out a lot." She added as an afterthought

He chuckled. "You don't think I'm a monster, then."

Her voice was quiet and serious. "No. You're not like that." There was something in her tone that told him the unvoiced part of her statement had been: She knew exactly what real monsters were like.

He flailed around once more, trying to find some other topic. He kind of hoped she'd flirt with him some more, but before his curdled brain could offer him anything useful, she hopped back to her feet, "I should get back to bed."

"Oh." He did his best to hide the disappointment in his tone with poor results.

She winked teasingly, "Miss me already?"

"Um..." He blushed,

She laughed a little, "Well, I still definitely better get back upstairs before your Aunt or mine notices we're down here. Otherwise they're going to insist on chaperoning us when we hang out again."

He replied uncertainly. "Sure... I guess" Then his brain caught up his ears as he realized she'd said 'again'.

Part of him was already trying to think up some acceptable excuse for them to be down in the den with the lights dim and her wearing just her T-shirt and shorts... he knew she was wearing shorts now. She'd sat... interestingly on the easy chair and his eyes were very good in the dark now. That they were just talking was probably going to be acceptable.

If it had been Uncle Ben that had caught them, he probably wouldn't have accepted anything less than 'We were totally making out' as an excuse regardless of what they were doing.

"We can talk some more tomorrow." Her smile was warm as she quietly glided back to the arch. "And I want you to show me what you can do." Her eyes glittered in the dim light.

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