Chapter 17
Peter's eyes snap open. There is a blanket over him, which is rare since he usually doesn't fall asleep on purpose. He's got a horrible problem with sleeping at decent times or at all. It's a wonder he's gotten a good amount these past three days. The wonder's name is called sleep deprivation and near death. Peter sits up with a groan, rubbing his puffy and resisting eyes as he tries to wake the fuck up. He realizes he didn't do patrol last night and that hurts him.
"Heyyyy Baby Boy!" Wade calls in his manic cheer. Peter does what any natural sleep deprived just barely not malnourishrd twenty three year old with a vigilante alter ego does when they wake up and promptly flips him off. Wade chuckles. "Whenever you want to, baby boy! I'd tap that ass anytime."
"Get a dick first and then we'll see," Peter grumbles back. Is this what getting normal sleep feels like? Holy fuck his is glad for his shitty sleep schedule. He had forgotten how not a morning person he was.
"You look great," Wade says dryly. Peter shoots him a glare and pulls himself out of bed to get ready.
He's very glad for the soundproof walls. It had been a birch finding this place, and he's pretty sure the landlord doesn't know there soundproof. Otherwise they'd be way more expensive. But the landlord doesn't, so he pays the normal amount for a no-bedroom, one bathroom, one living room, and one kitchen area apartment.
Peter groans, finding his corner of the living room. It was lovingly deemed his room, even though it's just a bunch of boxes making a makeshift wall that holds a closet. He pulls some clothes out and checks the time, before hopping in the shower because holy fuck, he actually has time to do that.
After, he dries himself off and throws on some clothes. And his glasses and his hearing aids and everything else he has to put on just to get ready because some ass hole radioactive spider decided to royally fuck up his life and his senses just to spite him. He then makes sure Wade's head cloth is damp and shows Wade some lotion he made, and Wade almost ours at the instant soother it puts on his skin and merrily waves his fully formed arm bones goodbye when Peter leaves.
Peter rides over to Stark Tower and JARVIS politely tells him there's a bother sentient slime, which means Tony owes him to more lunches. Peter tells JARVIS to make him a fucking cup of coffee before quickly dodging the sentient pink slime and begging for the spiders to help. He takes one out, and watches the spider subdue the pink slime.
Peter flips Tony off when he enters the floor a minute later and gives him a mop and bucket, not bothering to even try helping with the clean up. He knows Tony has issues with being handed things, though, so be makes sure to just lay it in front of Tony before going to the coffee machine. Tony seems to realize Peter's sour mood and cleans without a fuss. Peter takes a sip of his coffee.
It occurs to Peter, then, that he's in such a sour mood because he'd had a bad dream. Not a nightmare, but one that left him feeling irritated and sour. He wanted nothing more than to break or hit soemthing, and he knew he wouldn't be able to do work until he released the pent up aggression.
"Do you have a gym, or something?" Peter asks.
"I'm offended you even have to ask me that."
Peter flips off his boss again before heading to the elevator.
"See ya."
"You have work-"
Peter flips him off and notes with malicious glee that the cage he'd opened to subdue the pink slime was the mama spider.
"Your mom's out," he says lightly as the door closes.
He tells JARVIS to take him to the gym and steps into it, finding the nearest piece of equipment - a punching bag - and starting up. It flies off after a few hits and he kicks it in amger. He's mad, and angry, and upset, and that fucking dream had hit every nerve and he just wanted- to- fucking- hit- something!
The punch bag explodes after one last, rather powerful kick. Peter finds something else to do.