Chapter 10
Peter enjoys Wade's company, he really does. Unfortunately, Wade's company is making Peter's life hard in an extreme way. At least, this is what Peter is realizing as his eyes burn from yet another pair of contacts that have been in his to long, and after his ear aches from the the hearing aids which he is beginning to consider some form f medieval torture device, (A sign he needs to resize them, he's sure.) and, of course, stress from hiding his web-slinging vigilante alter ego. Peter walks into the bathroom to change the contacts and go to work, but releases a rather quiet stream of curses as he realizes that he doesn't have any more contacts. He sighs in mild irritance, grabbing his glasses which are in the cupboard under the sink. He wipes them down with his sleeves and slips them on, eyes goin from like, 50/20, to like, 20/20 like some god drive miracle, over stimulated eyes having some rest. Peter takes off the hearing aids for a second, rubbing at them to get feeling back before putting them back on and grabbing his sunscreen.
"Peter, Peter, pumpkin- Holy fucking shit Petey Sweetey, you wear glasses?" Wade all but shrieks from his somewhat stationary place in front of the couch. Peter blinks, overly tankful for the glasses. He enjoys Wade's company, but without his contacts or glasses to stop it, his constant light but clearly noticeable pop of red in the middle of his apartment, which is meticulously colored to follow a specific theme, strains and hurts his eyes to no end. Peter admits that that is a shame, to have to make sure every room is meticulously following a specific theme of color just to accommodate his already overly sensitive eyes, but he figures it's not to bad a burden to accommodate. Most of his mutated sense come with something he needs to later in his lifestyle.
His sense of touch had been awful, for instance. It was near constant torture to wear certain fabrics which made a majority of his clothes because he could feel each individual thread. It felt like it was burning him. He'd taken weeks off of work just to find the cloths that he could tolerate or enjoy wearing. He actually had a fear light scars littered about his body where he had ripped through the skin scratching himself. Scabs were just as irritating ad itchy, if not more so once his sense of touch had been raised, so he picked at those on a near constant basis.
His sense of taste had been weirdly affected, along with his sense of smell. Peter's taste had been altered enough where he disliked a number of the foods he liked, and had gotten a peculiar taste for insects. No, seriously, whenever he has money to splurge he buys those chocolate colored ants, or those cricket snacks. They are absolutely delicious. Once he got fried grasshopper from a food truck - he loved it. His sense of smell wasn't horribly affected, though it was heightened as well. He could discern certain things from just smelling them, which was useful I his line of work. Also, he'd found out to some varying degree of horror, that he could very vaguely taste and spell with his hair - all of it, like a spider - which although cool, was vaguely horrifying. He'd also gotten this cool knack for sensing vibrations - but that hadn't done much to him, except helm him discern how many people were in a given area at one time. He just had to press his fingernails against a surface.
The bite had also skewed a lot more as well. Though he would never care to admit it, Peter did quite like his webs. He knew how to make organic webs, but that required more energy than he could ever give, so his synthetic ones had been a natural option. They were similar enough, but occasionally Peter would use organic ones at home. Not to many, but it made him more comfortable. He once caned it, and realized that his DA had been on it. He never used it outside of the comfort of his home again after that. He'd also lost the ability to tell which way was up. It was actually awful, and vaguely horrifying to him. He genuinely could not tell which way was up. If you left him in a room with all white walls and no discernable door, he would never be able to tell you where the floor was.
He'd also found out that he felt different. Literally. He'd bee told on more then one occasion that his skin felt strange. Overly smooth or overly rough. Rough at first, MJ had told him, like very, very, very fine sandpaper. But it became smoother the longer you touched him or knew him, like it was getting used to you. His eyes had changed shape to, actually. It wasn't a huge change, but defiantly noticeable in pictures. MJ had pointed it out after making a BEFORE and AFTER photo collection for Peter's Spider-Man life. Peter's eyes were a little rounder now, and darker. They looked almost inhuman if you stared long enough. Peter's limbs were like that as well. His whole body had changed, more spider-like. Longer, lighter limbs. Muscles for days and a flexibility unmatched.
Regardless, it hadn't altered his life to terribly besides that. It had taken some getting used to, of course, finding himself stuck I what was basically puberty but for mutated spider gees and not growing boy genes was rather disconcerting. But once the adjustment period had finished, he'd learned how to deal. Needless to say, Peter had been staring at Wade silently for a few minutes now, and should respond.
"Um- Yeah, yeah, I wear glasses, I always have. I just wear contacts usually,"
"Well you look sexy as fuck in those glasses. The whole nerd look really fucking suits your fine ass," Wade responded, grinning for a second. Peter grabbed his duffel bag ad slipped on a hat.
"Thanks," He replied with a small smile as he grabbed his keys and walked out the door. Shutting it firmly behind him.
Peter hopped onto his bike and rode over to Stark Tower, humming softly. He was rather happy today. Being well fed and rested had it's perks, and he wondered why everyone didn't try it. Well, actually, everyone did, he was just the exception. Peter should probably try doing this more often except, what kind of a twenty-three year old fresh outta college intern with no money and living a double life as a vigilante would he be if he did that?
Peter parks his bike in the Stark Tower room and all but skips to the elevator, still humming that irritating tune. He nearly smashes into the closed door, but his spidey sense causes him to skid to a halt. He waits politely for the elevator doors to open and walks in, clearing his throat and making himself appear more calm and less like he's high (He's not high, shut up, it was one time! On accident!). JARVIS is telling him something, but Peter doesn't really process it. The elevator dings, announcing his presence on the floor. He steps out and migrates to his desk. Interning with Stark usually involves doing his own projects and getting small assignments that are easily completed.
He easily sidesteps the mass of sentient blue ooze which has just sprung up seconds after he walked out of the elevator in favor of finding his spider cages. He's still unsure how Stark got the spiders or when, but they were there that one day and have been since. Peter feels a tingle behind his neck and steps to the side before it can intensify, moving some cages. Sentient blue slime shoots by next to him before yo-yoing back to it's original body.
Wait. Fuck. Sentient blue slime. There is sentient blue slime. Damn it, Tony had promised it wouldn't do that.
Peter spins away from another slime blast and realizes Tony is not in the lab yet. Peter's immediate response to this is to open the cage of a particularly vicious spider and click his tongue quietly. The spider leaps towards the sentient blue slime, and one quick bite later, Peter picks up the spider from the mass of melted blue ooze. Peter huffs and makes sure the spider is okay with a series of quick chitters before putting the spider away and glaring pointedly at the elevator door. It dings and Tony steps in with a sense of urgency. Clint and Nat jump in through the vents. Peter places his hands on his hips.
"What the actual fuck, Tony. You promised it wouldn't become sentient!" Peter demands, glare pointed and accusing. Tony makes a pained expression.
"JARVIS, why did you even let Peter onto the level?" Tony instead responds, looking up at the ceiling.
"As I tried to explain, sir, the sentient being could not cause bodily harm. Also, Intern Parker was the only one who had the quickest means of subduing it." JARVIS responds.
"Do all your interns treat sentient blue ooze like it's an every day thing?" Clint asks curiously.
"No, usually they run out screaming the first time," Tony says honestly.
"You owe me lunch!" Peter states, "You promised it wouldn't become sentient, and you said lunch if it did."
"You promised him lunch if the ooze became sentient?" Nat asks, and Peter turns to the two, eyes in a fierce glare.
"Get out if you aren't helping with clean up," He states, and they leave immediately. Peter grabs two mops ad buckets from the corner of the lab. He leans a mop on the table in front of Tony, gaze expectant as he starts cleaning. Tony stares at the mop incredulously. Peter makes an irritated groaning noise, and some of the spiders begin to hit the sides of their cages menacingly, which causes Tony to raise an eyebrow and grab a mop. Peter nods approvingly.