Chapter Two
Talking can be heard from inside the lab at the Avengers Compound.
“Debrief,” Nick Fury demands. “Now.”
The room was quite dark, and the only source of light was the screen that the SHIELD director was situated in front of. No windows, no natural light sources, and despite the lack of light, it was still quite easy for Peter to see - but he expects that it’s pretty dim for everyone else, so he doesn't say anything about it.
He does his best not to look nervous in front of The Nick Fury.
“I told you, Eyepatch, we were kidnapped,” Mister Stark says.
“By whom? Why? Details, Stark,” Fury insists.
Rhodey pipes up. “It was a traumatic experience. We’re here, right now, of our own accord. We don’t actually have to tell you anything,” he says, matter-of-factly.
“What he said,” Tony agrees.
Fury turns to Peter. “And you? What do you have to add?”
Before Peter can answer, Tony cuts in.
“You leave him out of this.”
Nick crosses his arms. “I can’t do that, Stark.”
“Then we’re out of here,” Tony replies, simply.
Peter, who’s been opening and closing his mouth, hoping to get a word in this whole conversation, finally does so.
“It was, uh, I’d rather not have to -“ he cuts himself off, unable to talk about the incident.
Tony glances at him, and raises an eyebrow.
Peter silently begs him not to say anything about his previously unknown spider tendencies. He doesn’t think Tony would, but…..
Tony faces Fury again. “Like Rhodey said, we don’t have to tell you shit.”
_______
After they leave the interrogation room, Tony invites Peter down to the Lab that he uses when he’s at the Compound. Once they get there, Tony all but shoves Peter inside.
“So, let’s get this straight,” Tony says, as he stares Peter in the eye. “You have fangs and can talk to spiders?”
Pete fidgets under Tony’s harsh gaze. “Uh, don’t forget the webs. Organic, not - not synthetic.” He pulls down his sleeve and points to his web glands - slits in his arm where the webbing comes out of, and where the webshooters slide in, very slightly.
Tony continues staring at him. “And you didn’t tell me. Why? Because I thought we had a thing. A thing where we trust each other.”
Pete starts tapping his foot, and fidgets with the hem of his shirt nervously. He looks around the lab, where they are both sitting across from each other. “We, uh, do. But, like, surprise?” He spits out awkwardly.
He hates this. A lot.
His phone rings, and thank god for that; the awkwardness between mentor and mentee might as well have been visible.
He brings the phone to his ear and presses answer.
“Peter, bro, why’ve you been ghosting me?! I’ve texted you, like, thirty times!” Ned bellows. Pete cringes at the volume, and holds the phone away from his head, before replying.
“Ned. It’s, uh, it’s been a pretty horrible -“
Peter’s tongue feels like it's tied itself in a knot, like it’s been glued, stuck in position, just like when Nick Fury tried to drag the information out of him before.
“ - It’s been a bad week,” he finishes lamely.
Then he realizes that Ned has unwittingly given Peter an out. He glances at Tony, and he finds himself saying, “that actually sounds great! I’ll be right there.”
“What?” Asks Ned, confused, not quite catching on.
“Yep, great, bye!”
Peter hangs up, stands, and slings his backpack over his shoulder, eager to just leave the tension behind. He turns to Mister Stark, who is still sitting, as he reaches the door.
“Bye, Mister Stark!” He yells, as he practically sprints for the elevator.
“Underoos, wait-“ but the elevator doors have already shut.
———
When he leaves, Peter remembers that the Compound is actually in Upstate New York, and nowhere near Queens. He debates going back inside, but ultimately decides against it. It takes him three whole hours to swing back to his neighbourhood.
He doesn’t go to Ned’s house.
He patrols until around 2:00 AM, goes home, and promptly collapses in bed, spidersuit and all.
———
{Hatchling, Peter, wake up!}
Blue’s spidery voice seems almost painful in his ear - too loud. Much, much too loud. He can hear someone chewing on his hot dog three doors down, smell it too, can hear busses and cars and dogs all screeching and there’s so, so much noise, and it’s too loud and too much.
The sunlight peeking through his bedroom window is blinding, the usually soft comforter is driving him crazy -
“Don’t call me hatchling,” Peter grumbles in English, cringing at the volume of his own voice, even though he’s whispering. He sweeps the normally-comfy-but-now-scratchy-and-irritating blanket over his head, trying to at least block out the sun that he thinks might actually be trying to murder his eyesight.
Sensory overloads are the worst.
After a minute or two - twenty, actually - he tries, really, really tries to get up and walk to the bathroom, but half way there, the dizziness takes a turn for the worse and he pitches forward. He nearly eats the hallway floor.
When he does make it to the bathroom, he feels that familiar watery feeling in the back of his throat and tongue and curls over the toilet just in time. Ever tasted bile before? Yeah, well, try that with an enhanced set of taste buds and maybe you’ll know what Peter is going through. The taste, and now the stink. Holy crap, the stink.
“Peter, wh - oh, crap!” May yells when she enters the bathroom. She too gags at the smell of puke and bile.
“I - uh, need - call in sick?” Peter pants, a second before he leans over the porcelain and upchucks again.
_______________
The spiderling wakes up much more pleasantly the next time. The blanket that was driving him insane is way less scratchy and irritating on his sensitive skin, and the sun isn’t trying to kill him any more. The taste of throw-up is still lingering in his mouth, and the smell is just as bad, but he is feeling ever so slightly better than before. He tries to move, to stretch out, but something is blocking his limbs from fully extending.
What.
Is.
That.
A wall of webbing is standing opposite his real wall. Also, his window, the one that previously helped blind him, is covered in the white sticky goo.
He’s somehow made an entire wall completely out of webs while he was sleeping.
The hell?
Peter blinks, his eyes blurry from sleep, debating whether or not he should be worried, and coming to the conclusion that, ‘Nope. That’s a problem for when I wake up.’ He rolls over, towards his actual wall and shuts his eyes.
______
May knocks on his door, and as per usual, does not wait for an answer. The wall of webbing is blocking the half of the room that the door is located, but he imagines May is holding a tray of orange juice and chicken noodle soup.
He hears it clatter to the floor when May lays eyes on the wall of white.
“I don’t …. even know where to begin,” May says.
Pete buries his face in his pillow and groans. Blue, who is currently on Peter’s nightstand, tries to hold back a laugh.
______
“I apologize in advance for the way that this conversation is bound to go,” Peter snarks, right after he answers the call.
“Pete, my bro, where are you? Also, why did you say you were coming to my house yesterday?” Comes Ned’s voice over the phone.
“Quiet, I need quiet. Sensory overloads suck,” Pete hisses. He ignores Ned’s obvious concern.
Or, well, maybe a synonym for ‘hisses’ would be more appropriate, since he is talking in muffled English through his pillow.
“Want me to take notes for you in AP Chemistry?” Ned asks.
“Do it,” Peter grumbles. He hangs up.
______
You’d think that by now, Peter would expect the unexpected.
This, as any good Decathlete would say, proves to be false.
Around two in the afternoon, right after having woken up from a long, restful six-hour nap, Peter realizes that his chest and throat are vibrating softly. It must have started when he was asleep, and as soon as he is aware it’s happening, it stops.
A few minutes later, it starts up again, and Pete frowns, trying to decipher whether it’s dangerous. It doesn’t seem dangerous? A second passes, then he figures out what’s actually happening - and Parker Luck Strikes Again.
Although, after having white globs come out of his wrists, fangs, and Spiderspeak, this, admittedly, is not the weirdest Spider-Thing that could have happened.
It actually wasn’t even onthe list that Peter made. He didn’t know that spider’s could purr, and, god - he better not be part cat too.
When May comes in again - even though she can’t actually see her nephew, she can hear him - the fact that she thinks it’s adorable doesn’t matter at all. Nope. Not at all.
------
{Hey, Blue,} Pete says in Spiderspeak, once his sensitive hearing has gone back to a manageable level.
{Hatchling? What is it?} the spider clicks, as she yawns at him from the nightstand.
{Can Spiders, like, purr?} Peter asks.
Blue thinks for a moment. {Hunter-stalkers can, I think.}
{Hunter-stalkers?}
{I do not know the human word for them.}
A few hours later, when Peter feels his eyesight won’t die from looking at the screen on his phone, he Googles ‘vibrating spiders’.
He finds out that Wolf spiders actually DO purr, just like Blue said.
The only issue? The one time Peter purred, it was like a cat.
Wolf spiders purr to attract a mate.
He guesses that it’s his human DNA messing it up. He just really, really hopes that he doesn’t start purring in front of a crush, or in public in general.
Especially not MJ - definitely not her.
Fear settles in his stomach at the thought.
_________
Peter sleeps the rest of the day, and by nightfall, he feels human again.
______
“Can anyone tell me the answer to question three on page eighty-seven?” Mrs Warren says, as she walks around the room, checking that everyone is doing their work.
Peter looks around, and sure enough, half of the class isn’t.
MJ quickly slips her book under her desk, only to immediately pull it out again when she thinks the teacher isn’t looking. Betty seems to be reciting something under her breath - maybe a script of some sort? And Ned is on his phone, looking for the newest LEGO Star destroyer on Amazon.
Flash has been caught cheating, like, four times, and is one disturbance away from detention. Pete sits behind him, but he thinks Flash’s face has a set scowl on it.
In short, only a select few people are actually paying attention.
Our boy, Peter, is feeling much better, by the way. Not quite one hundred percent, but better than yesterday.
He quickly checks on Blue, who has, yet again, taken up temporary residence in his hoodie pocket. She quietly clicks at him, and his gaze finds its way back to the front of the classroom.
(“Gross, gross, gross, ewwww,” May’d said, as she tried to clear away the web wall. But without super strength, it was fruitless.
“What’s the matter, May? Didn’t you wake up expecting a human sized spider web?” Peter had joked. He chuckled as he easily tore through a section of it.
“I didn’t know your body could produce so much of it. I mean, how?”
“I honestly don’t know, either. Well, I mean, now that I think about it, I’ve never run out. Run low, sure, but never completely out.” Peter had said. He pushed on his wrist with his fingers, the usual ‘thwip thwip’ thing he does, and webbing spurted out, hitting the mattress on his bed. “Nope. Still got some.”
May glanced at him. “Pete, boy, it starts like this,” she waved her hand all around the room. “Next thing you know, the whole house will be webbed up.”
Peter looked down at her from his perch on the ceiling. Anxiety at the thought wormed in his gut. “Might actually happen, so don’t kid about that,” He’d said, genuinely serious, and very worried about doing something noticeable to the public eye.)
He’s brought back to the present when His teacher says something along the lines of, “guest speaker.”
Betty, for the first time that hour, pipes up and says, “Do they know about the elevator in DC?”
The poor teacher cringes. “Uhh, no. They’re a guest.”
‘Also last week. That was - just -‘ Peter cuts his line of thinking off, as he shivers at the memory.
“So, you didn’t tell them about how most of the Decathlon Team almost died,” MJ points out.
“Spider-Man saved us. He’s sooo cool,” Flash adds. He then turns to Peter, and in a complete disregard for the adult in the room, says, “right, Penis?”
Now it’s Peter winces. He blinks at the emotional whiplash Flash has just presented him with. “Uhh, yeah. Go Spider-Man.”
“Flash, I warned you. I don’t like doing this, but that was your last straw. Detention,” Mrs Warren says.
Flash turns around in his seat towards Peter once again, and his scowl deepens.
‘If looks could kill,’ Peter thinks to himself, ‘If looks could kill.’
——————
“Hey, dork number one,” MJ says to Peter, interrupting his and Ned’s heated debate about whether X-wings are stronger than Y-wings.
(“Ned, the X-wings are so much faster than those things,” Peter had insisted.
Ned had swallowed a bite of his sandwich. “The Y-wings are bombers. Bombs beat agility.”)
“Why don’t you ever eat lunch?” she continues.
Pete starts sweating slightly. It’s not as if he can just tell everyone in the room the real reason he can’t chow down in front of people, because hello, having fangs that pop out when he eats is generally considered ‘Not Normal.’
What he means to say is this:
“I forgot to pack one today. I’ll be sure to bring one tomorrow.”
When he opens his mouth, though, all he can think about is how delicious Kraven’s blood tasted, and how much his spidery side would love to slide his fangs into MJ’s wrist - or anyone’s, for that matter. His mouth clicks shut.
He realizes that both MJ and Ned are now staring at him, their eyes full of worry, although MJ’s worry is more disguised as boredom mixed with curiosity.
What he actually says is this:
“I have, uh, eating anxiety?”
‘What was that?!’ Peter inwardly cringes (yet again, for like, the third time today) and Ned facepalms, while MJ just continues staring questioningly at him.
“Uhh, yeah. Can’t stand eating in front of crowds,” Pete says, much more confidently.
“Okayyy,” MJ says, going back to her book.
His thoughts quickly spiral downward. He manages to tear his eyes away from MJ’s arm, and stares blankly at the empty space on the table in front of him.
Ned quietly snickers at him. “Oh, so you have eating anxiety, do you?” he whispers.
Pete playfully (and very carefully) punches his friend in the shoulder. “Shut up!” he whispers back, smiling weakly, still quite disturbed at his own thought process.
Ned, as oblivious as ever, continues to chew his sandwich.
_________________
Peter adjusts his hood over his face, looks down at his shoes, and nudges past the continuous crowd of highschoolers that have congregated at the front doors of Midtown High, trying and failing to make himself smaller than normal. It doesn’t work.
After his kidnapping, and his latest sensory overload, May made him promise that he’d wait at least a week to rest and recover from both ordeals before he’d go out again as Spider-Man. As much as he is annoyed at his aunt for stopping him, he’s sort of inclined to agree with her. And yes - he’s very much aware that if he wants too, he could patrol anyway.
Unfortunately, he suspects that if he doesn’t listen to at least some of his urges by becoming Spider-Man for an hour or two, his other, much darker instincts will come to light when he doesn’t want them to.
After all, ignoring and forgetting about his fangs, led to him paralyzing another human being, possibly for life. Ignoring stuff like that could be lethal to anyone around him, and it would be stupid to disregard his instincts any longer.
Which is why, even after last Friday’s kidnapping disaster, Peter agreed when Tony offered to let him stay in the Compound for the weekend.
The reason? It’s the most secure building in the world - except maybe buildings in Wakanda - and literally no one can get in.
Or out.
The only issue? Whatever Spider-Thing Peter does, Tony will know.
He knows from last week’s talk, logically, that nothing could ever destroy their friendship, but he also knows that Tony’s probably hurt by Peter’s lack of trust in him. There’s always this tiny part of him that asks ‘What If?’
What if Tony thought he was a freak?
What if Tony decided he’d be better off under constant surveillance?
What if Tony decides that he’s just …. Better off… without Peter…. Altogether?
He honestly doesn’t think he could stand losing yet another parental figure, especially not after he already almost lost him once.
Peter gets shaken out of his thoughts when he sees Happy’s face glaring at him from inside the black Audi in the parking lot.
“Get in,” the man grumbles.
Peter obliges.
___________
He snaps awake when Happy says, “Hope you had a nice four hour long nap. Now get out.”
‘I guess swinging is faster than driving,’ Peter thinks, remembering how he got home the last time he was here. ‘But also WAY more exhausting.’
He does exactly that. He waves at the car as Happy speeds away, after having just dropped him off, while slinging his school backpack over his shoulder - which he just replaced for the eighth time last month.
He glances at Blue, who climbs out of his pocket - probably cramped from sitting there for so long - and into his hands.
‘Well,’ he thinks, as he swallows nervously at the daunting sight of the Compound, ‘here goes nothing.’
____________
Peter steps into the Compound, and nervously flips the hem on his shirt.
“Hello, Peter,” says FRIDAY, her voice coming through the speakers, as Peter walks into the elevator. “What floor would you like me to take you to?”
“He-hey FRIDAY. Just - just the lab. The one where me and Mister Stark usually do our thing?”
“Sure thing. I have alerted Boss that you are here.”
Peter sighs. “Of course you have.”
________
“Kid,” Tony greets, voice cold.
“Mister Stark,” Peter returns, nervous. Blue leaps from his shoulder and onto the metal table in front of him. He drops his school bag on the table, unzips it, and fumbles a bit while he tries to take his suit out of it.
Tony swipes his hands, and the designs he was looking at - possibly for the Ant-Man suit that Scott Lang wears - dissipate and dissolve. He slowly wanders over to where Peter has situated himself at a workbench, and even though he tries very hard not to make it look like he has something on his mind - probably regarding the spider protege - said boy notices anyway.
“So,” says Mr Stark, as he too sits down at the workbench. He leans over slightly to look at Peter’s wrists, and in return, Pete slides his sleeves up over his palms, self-consciously covering his web glands. “Nice spider you got there,” Tony says, pointedly looking at Blue.
Peter has the strange urge to get defensive. “Her name’s Blue. She doesn’t belong to any one and don’t talk about her as if she’s not there; she can understand every word you say.”
He wonders what possessed him to say something like that. Like, seriously? What the heck was that? He never talked like that, at least not to Tony.
“No need to get so worked up, kid. Anyway, we, my friend, are going to do something a little differently today,” Tony finishes.
“O-oh?” Peter asks, worried and already very uncomfortable with whatever Mr Stark has planned.
“Yep. You, kiddo, are going to show me exactly what you can do. No tricks, no lies,” Tony says, as he childishly puts his head on his good hand, still gazing at Peter.
Peter drops his suit.
“Not everything!” Stark quickly amends. “Only stuff you’re comfortable with, I guess.”
Pete leans down to pick up his suit, and is very grateful that Mr Stark can no longer see his panicked face, even if it’s just for a split second. He tries to school his expression the best he can.
“Yo-you do?” Peter asks, his voice an octave higher than usual.
“Yep! You see, I’m a little hurt by the lack of trust here-” Peter grimaces, “-but I’m willing to let you make it up to me by doing this.”
The boy considers his options.
Eventually, Pete makes a decision, and hopes that he won’t come to regret it later.
“Err,” Peter starts, unsure of where he’s going with this. “I don’t know, Mister Stark…. Most of my abilities scared May, when she first saw them. The ones that didn’t, grossed her out,” Peter admits, yet again playing with the hem on his shirt. A nervous tick.
{What about Spiderspeak? Or - what was the word - Purring?} Blue asks.
{I said MOST of my abilities. Those are the exceptions,} Peter hisses back.
Stark lifts his head from his usable hand - probably mildly confused about Blue’s and Peter’s exchange (‘not that he can hear Blue, anyway,’ Peter thinks) - and stares Peter in the eye. “Kiddo, I have sleepovers with a green giant and the God of thunder, every Thursday. Nothing, and I mean nothing can gross me out.”
Pete’s sight flickers to Tony’s limp arm, and a wave of guilt washes over him. He tears his gaze away.
“Still,” the boy says, hesitant.
“Come on, Underroos. What’s the worst that could happen?”
(He doesn’t mean to, it’s just that Kraven’s right there, and even though Peter can’t see him, he feels his fangs slide into human flesh, feels his mouth just react, feels blood dribble down his lips - )
Peter stays silent, and instead pulls out his webshooters - which, until now, have been sitting in his bag - and puts them beside his suit on the table.
“At least show me your webbing?”
“I bit someone!” Peter blurts out - and immediately covers his mouth in shock.
Blue, who has been silent this entire conversation, perks up. {Finally. I was wondering when you would tell a human about that.}
“You what?!?!”
“I didn’t mean to! He - he was at-attacking me-“ Pete’s breath comes fast. “I-I should go.” He moves to place his ‘shooters and suit back in his bag, but his wrist is suddenly held in place by Tony’s hand.
“Don’t. Not this time,” Tony says.
He knows that he could easily throw Tony off, but he doesn’t.
He breathes.
“Come on, kid. Work with me, here.”
He stills for a moment. “Okay,” Pete says.
________
“So, one last time. You can make biological webs - not synthetic -, can sprout fangs and speak to spiders.” Tony lists them all off on his fingers.
At least, this time, there is no awkwardness.
“I, uh, also have venom. And I can purr,” Peter says, anxious of what his mentor will think about the venom.
“Venom,” Tony repeats.
“Err, yeah,” Peter replies - then he realizes something.
“I’ve never told anyone about my venom. Except Blue. I told her. But not May, or Ned. I don’t know why,” Peter mumbles, “but I guess I always thought they’d think of me differently.”
Tony looks oddly touched by that, as if he’s proud that - even though Peter did not want to tell him at first - he’s the only one - or, well, human, anyway - who knows Pete’s secret. That he’s the only one who Peter mentioned it to.
“Do I even want to know how you figured out about your venom?” Tony asks. “You said you bit someone. Who?”
Peter is silent for a minute, before he speaks up. “Soooo, you know that former TV show host? Uhhh, Kraven the Hunter?” Peter asks, trying to be casual and failing hard.
Tony’s eyebrows shoot up in recognition - and realization.
“I read the story. Wait, you paralyzed him with your saliva? Your venom is a paralyzing agent. Oh my God, your venom is a paralyzing agent.”
“I’m just glad it doesn’t kill people.”
Tony must have sensed that was a good time to pursue a change of subject. “So. Webs. Hit me.”
Peter’s eyes lit up. While he sort of hated speaking about how there was yet another thing that set him aside from humanity, he absolutely loved talking about the ins and outs of the mechanics of his inventions.
“Well, I guess the big thing is that these ‘shooters,” he points to them, “are still the same ones you gave me. I just, err, modified them a little, to work the same as my old one’s. Basically, these tiny tubes here,” he points those out as well, “slide into my web glands, and -”
“Wait, wait, wait. Your what-now?” Tony interrupts
“These. I already showed them to you, like, a week ago.” Peter, still a little reluctant to show him, uncovers his wrist from his long-sleeved shirt. “Just small slits that the tube-y things slide into. I can still use my webs without the ‘shooters, it’s just a lot messier. Although -” he looks up, thinking, “I did make an entirely new wall out of it while I was sleeping.”
“Wait, seriously?”
“Uh, yeah. I did. Anyway,” Peter moves on before Tony can ask about the reason he made a wall out of webs - the sensory overload. “Tube thingies slide into the glands, and the ‘shooters suck up some of the webbing, pressurize it, and presto! Weapon Webs.”
Tony looks utterly amazed. “You figured out how to do this by yourself? No, scratch that. The first one’s, you made from dumpster diving. You figured out how to do this by yourself out of trash?”
{I never understood the works of humans. They all seem complicated. However, it is interesting to see how inventive people are, and how they adapt,} Blue says.
{Is that a compliment I hear?} Peter asks Blue, slightly amused.
Tony glances at the Jumping Spider, and at the Spider-boy, and sighs. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that, but seriously, what a nifty ability to have.”
“I-I guess so,” Peter says. “Wait, do you mean the webs or the Spiderspeak?”
The billionaire chuckles. “That’s what you went with? Spiderspeak?”
Peter blushes. “I - well - there are worse names…”
“Whatever you say, Pete. Whatever you say.”
(Later, Peter realizes that he never really did what Tony asked - showed him everything.)
___________________________
“You’re joking,” Rhodey says.
“For once, I assure you I’m not,” Tony replies, as he takes a sip from his soda - not beer, no, Peter knows Tony’s been sober since he found out Pepper was pregnant with Morgan.
“That’s insane.”
“I know, right? And he didn’t trust me until now,” Tony says. “Ha! He trusted me before you. I win.”
Peter, who is supposed to be sleeping in his room, on the other side of the building, can hear every word. It’s not that he likes eavesdropping, per se, but, well, it’s important, okay? Those two are talking about him. He’s got every right to listen in.
“It doesn’t work like that, Tony. He’s known you for longer, and he hasn’t even had the chance to talk to me since Fury. But, like I said, this is insane,” Rhodey says. Peter obviously can’t see what they’re doing, but he imagines Rhodey sitting down as well.
“And like I said, I know.”
Pete gets a weird feeling in his stomach, something akin to regret and worry, but tries to bury it.
____________