Peter
Peter knew what danger felt like. He could smell gunpowder 5 miles away, or hear the rapid thumping of a hostage’s heart, which was only slightly different from the man holding the gun. He could feel the air change when a bullet was flying in his direction, and hear a knife slicing through the air (who ever said that you couldn’t physically cut tension?). There were a hundred other factors that contributed to his spidey-sense, half of which he couldn’t point out if he tried. All he knew was that he, more than most people, knew what danger felt like. He knew the varying degrees of danger, from tripping on a curb to an armed robbery to vulture. His spider sense always informed him of things to avoid when approaching danger, or how the severity of the danger.
He’d never felt danger like this.
When he felt the hairs on his arm stand to attention, and looked into the sky to see the flying doughnut of a spaceship, his body froze as his heart hammered against his chest and his gut flopped endlessly like a fish. His spidey-sense screamed at him to ‘Run away! Please! Just run away!', but he just couldn't move. He leaned his head against the seat in front of him and breathed shakily. Oh, how he wanted to just stay there, in the yellow bus that was headed for MoMA. Just be normal for once, enjoy a field trip like every other kid in the country.
“Hey Parker, you alright there?”
He slowly turned his head to see MJ looking at him with concern. Well, as much concern as MJ was capable of expressing.
Mr Stark wouldn’t run.
He took a deep breath and swallowed the bile that had risen up his throat.
In fact, he’s probably at the center of it right now.
“I need a distraction,” he replied, wiping the cold sweat from his brow.
Immediately her head turned to the window and her eyes widened. “Oh shit,” she whispered.
“Ned,” Peter, called out softly, leaning forward in his seat and lightly slapping his sleeping friend. “Hey Ned.”
“Huh?” He looked up drowsily.
“I need a distraction.”
“Oh shit,” Ned gasped, sobering up immediately.
“I literally just said that,” MJ sniffed.
“We’re all gonna die!!!” Ned cried as he rushed to the emergency exit at the back of the bus, while Peter fumbled in his bag for his web shooters and mask. His heartbeat was not slowing and his perspiration was only making it harder to grab anything at all. Where the heck were those fucking web shooters?
“Hey.”
MJ’s gentle hand held his shaking wrist firmly. He wasn't shivering, he was shaking.
“You better come back in one piece, you understand?” She threatened lightly.
Peter forced out a laugh. “Why?” He finally pulled the darn devices out of his bag and threw them on. “Scared you’ll miss me?” He turned to the escape window in the middle of the bus, ready to jump.
“Of course, Loser,” she replied softly. “I’m in love with you.”
Peter froze, his hand raised to shoot a web forward. This couldn’t be happening. Not right now. There were too many things at stake and too little time. The herd at the back of the bus wouldn’t have their attention diverted for too long. He needed to go now. He was probably hearing things. Again. But she’d said it, clear as day – she was in love with him. Specific. Audible.
“What did you say?”
Well, there went the 30 second window that Ned bought him.
“You heard me, Peter Parker.”
He stared at her, trying his hardest to decipher her expressions, to see if the corner of her cheek twitched before she smirked and told him she was kidding. To see whether she’d roll her eyes and tell him to get out of here. But nothing told him that she was kidding this time, or that he’d heard her wrongly. Then again, Peter had never been the best reader of basic human expressions and intentions, much less MJ’s expressions and intentions.
“Heh,” he finally coughed out, painfully plastering a grin onto his face as he turned away. “Your jokes are getting old, MJ.” He pulled the hatch and let the window slide down with a clank. “You know,” he paused, turning to look at MJ’s blank expression. “You’re really cruel.”
And with that he leapt out of the bus, never looking back, and never daring to. He didn’t care whether some of his classmates might have seen him slip on a red mask and do gymnastics in the air. He didn’t care that he’d definitely regretted every word that escaped his lips. He just didn’t want to see her reaction. Did she know? Was she serious? Was she-? It didn’t matter. Mr Stark needed him – New York City needed him, possibly Earth needed him, and nothing else mattered.