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“What to do about the kid,” Spider-Man said to himself quietly. An invisible, electric, super strength wielding teenager who seemed convinced that he could go risk his life every night because that’s what Peter, the older and supposedly wiser super hero did.Eight years after he started, Peter had regrets. Now, as of four weeks ago, he had a teen to worry about.It was the gray hours of the dawn, and Peter had finally gotten the latest Spider-Man fiasco event wrapped up, and he was exhausted. He was supposed to be some superior mentor, some paragon of hope or whatever, and yet he couldn’t stop people getting hurt. And so many more would be affected afterward if he didn’t get it together.Miles. Peter had to figure it out. Training him was a must– he’d already promised. Started, even. Taking him out on patrol, though? With villains like that?If he wasn’t careful, the kid was going to be taking his old Halloween costume to the next level, and Peter didn’t think he could ground the kid for long.He couldn’t think of an answer. Time moved on. He had to find the energy to keep swinging or find money to get a train, and well, quite frankly, Peter just wanted everything to stop. Or at least slow down.He’d figure this out tomorrow. Maybe there was a silver lining hidden among the downpour. He wanted to sleep two hours before graduate student work the next day.*** Doctor Otto Octavius was located in the least popular lab of Empire State University. Peter made it there in no time, glancing at the strangely small and not at all conspicuous plaque declaring it the ‘Salyers Memorial Lab,’ but otherwise it was choked with fall leaves and looking like it needed a new coat of paint. There were a few small, dark windows peering from the face of it, but nothing else hinted at the groundbreaking science going on behind closed doors.Peter closed the door to the lab quietly, and only barely resisted the urge to look down to avoid meeting anyone’s gaze. He could look people in the eye no problem, most of the time, but paired with his expression it would come off as aggressive. Something he maybe should avoid since he was late to his teaching assistant position.“Did you see anything on your trip?” Otto asked lightly.Peter froze, confused. “Uh,” he managed to spit out. Was I supposed to? He wondered. Does he mean– he can’t mean–“A nice walk,” Octavius clarified, smiling a little. “The AP biology professor came by looking for you. Something about you missing your lab.”“Oh no, I’m so sorry.” Peter tried to look chagrined and submissive. He had practice enough, it should be easy. It felt like his face was frozen, though.Otto heaved a sigh and turned away, moving toward his desk. “I told him you were likely caught up in this Rabbit nonsense. Or whatever the latest supervillain is calling herself.”“I uh, it’s not my lab. It’s the TA thing… did he really come? There’s two other people aside from me...”“Apparently one called in.” Otto said heavily, expression bland and apologetic. Or maybe irritated. He was hard to read. “And the other one has a different science background. He didn’t elaborate.”“I uh, better go.” Peter said weakly. “I left my class stuff in my locker here, that’s all.”“I’m sure half the class was also delayed. See that you don’t let him guilt you into staying longer for ‘compensation’ of some sort because of this. I need you here on time.” Otto called over his shoulder.Peter booked it, and if he moved a little preternaturally fast, he didn’t think there was anyone there to see it. After the class, Peter slunk back into the lab, chastised and feeling like he’d lost half of his credentials to even exist in the department. He heaved a sigh and put his things on top of his desk.Otto chuckled. “Couldn’t get out without a lecture, hm?”Peter tried to smile. He was exhausted, and he couldn’t keep the polite expression on his face.“Doctor Crabapple, they sometimes call him,” Otto said as he turned away. “Have some coffee.”Peter got up to get himself a cup, taking slow breaths. This was his dream job. What he wanted to do after he graduated— work in a lab doing something meaningful that would help people in a different way than he had been doing since he was a teenager.Spider-Man has done a lot of good, sure, but with the likes of JJJ, it hardly felt like the rest of the city felt that way. It just felt so conceited, going on even in his head about the good he did for the city. Spider-Man isn’t like other superheroes who just outed themselves to the whole city, Peter thought with a snort.No, he wasn’t sore about not being paid by the FF or concerned with Stark meddling. Nope… He had a Stark internship for part of the week, but it was another science experience thing. He’d clock a few hours here working with Otto, using his biochemistry and neuroscience background to make the world better. Then he’d go get his paper-pushing and coffee brewing experience done over at Stark Industries.Nightly patrols, teach two hours a week with the Crabapple, intern at S.I., and work on the prosthetics with Otto. Not to mention his newest responsibility— Miles Morales.How could he prepare a teenager with electric powers, the ability to turn invisible, on top of the other powers Peter has for being a vigilante? He should, right? He’d already started. Miles had been convinced he could go risk his life every night because…that’s what Peter did.Same old, same old. Juggle everything until something spattered on the pavement.Except Peter didn’t want to patrol every night anymore. He wanted a break, and to work things out with MJ. To make the world a little better by doing things more like Otto Octavious than the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man. Whether it was high stakes Spider-Man plots or daily run-ins with your average underbelly thief, he was getting tired.Maybe I could patrol less when Miles is ready to— Peter shook his head. He had a responsibility to the city. And to Miles. He couldn’t just fob off his responsibility onto a kid.Otto called from his work space, “Could you give me a hand here? I’d like to do a test run and could use an extra set of arms.”“Once we get these up and running, you won’t be saying that anymore,” Peter smiled and slid off his chair to go over and help the doctor.Octavius let Peter help him strap the arms onto his back, a smartphone in hand. “Let’s try the latest test, shall we?” The arms moved into ‘walking’ position, two long arms moving in slow, steady paces. “This gait does seem much smoother… now to try and combine the walking protocol with something a little more challenging…”Otto tapped his phone, and the left arm reached out for Otto’s mug of coffee. They both held their breath as the limb held the mug cup, and slowly brought it to the doctor. Otto took a sip, and then swiped a different pattern into the smartphone panel. The limb took the cup back to the table, and promptly dropped the cup a few centimeters away from the edge. Otto sighed.Peter turned to get the broom when the arms erupted into a flurry of motion—stopping and starting a series of pre-programmed motions, flinging about at top speed. Peter took two quick steps towards the doctor and got his hands between the backpack-like central core of the machine. He tried to lift up and away, but let go at a sudden warning from his spider-sense.He pulled back, and grabbed a tentacle, then another.“Oh dear. Let me just turn them off…” the doctor was saying, his tone surprisingly calm as the ‘leg’ arms lifted him off the ground. His hand shook, however, and the phone dropped to the floor. Octavius swore.Peter ducked and quickly scooped up the phone, tapping in the ‘power down’ combination. The limbs froze, and Peter gently kicked at the middle of the nearest ‘leg’ tentacle. It didn’t budge, so he kicked again, and got Octavius low enough to slip out of the arms through some very careful teasing of the material.“Thank you for that Peter,” Otto sighed, and got to his feet slowly. He winced as he flexed his arm and back.“Are you ok? They really brought you down hard, huh.” Peter tried for sympathetic. He probably sounded amused. He cringed inwardly.“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Otto sat, and gestured for the phone. He unlocked it, and then the laptop it was linked to, and started looking at the code.Peter hesitated and sat next to him with his own laptop. They worked in silence, going over the code.“We’re so close to working out how to connect it to the brain and bypass these smartphone limitations,” Otto muttered. His jaw clenched, and he took a break to massage his hands.“We’ll get it,” Peter murmured. “We’re almost ready to bring the blueprint to life, right?” He neglected to mention that he’d already started gathering the parts in his aunt’s shed. That would be a step too far, and Peter was hesitating for reasons he couldn’t quite verbalize.It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Otto. It was just that he was busy because the villain scene never seemed to calm down.Otto stood, muttering about getting them some more coffee. He brought a step stool along, and for a moment Peter didn’t think much about it. Not everyone could reach the top shelf, as Harry liked to say.Peter was cleaning up after the arms debacle when he heard another crash from the corner. Peter froze– he hadn’t sensed anything at all. Not even a twinge of discomfort or warning from his enhanced senses.Otto moaned quietly.Peter abandoned the dustpan and whirled around.Otto was lying in a heap on the floor, looking more embarrassed than“My body is… not doing its best anymore. I think I could handle the problems of old age,,,” he chuckled. “But the doctors say I am going to lose all mobility. A side effect of my former specialty, I’m afraid. Back when I worked with Norman Osborn and Dean Whittaker.”Peter bit his lip, trying to think of the best reply. “Thank you for telling me about your disability. I didn’t know. Let me know if there’s something I can do to help around the lab, or if you're tired.”“Don’t patronize me, Parker.” Otto said stiffly, pulling himself up slowly.“I don’t mean like fetch your coffee. Though you really do ask me to do that already,” Peter joked. “Just like, tell me to get the heavy stuff if I’ve got my head in the books.”“If I hear one more person tell me how much of an inspiration I am,” Otto snorted.“I wasn’t going to!” Peter protested. “You’re an inspiration for your work, Doc. You’ve dedicated your life to helping people and I really respect that.”“I may be bitter, but not all the time, Parker. I have my moments. But I still have my mind and that’s what I want to protect.”“I agree, we should protect your magnificent brains. I’m sure zombies would consider you a first class dish.” Peter grinned triumphantly when Otto laughed.***Not two days later, Peter was back in the classroom, mercifully only five minutes late and more or less prepared. Usually that meant standing around in class, with most of his duties helping improve the online homework.It wasn’t his first time in front of a classroom, but he still had to work out a surprising lot for his turn to lead discussion in a small group. At least his job as a TA was physically close to his paying job. Doctor Octavius couldn’t pay much, but it was almost as good as his old job at the Bugle, and had the benefit of not damaging Spider-Man’s reputation.He tried not to look bored as the lecturer did their thing and Peter and the others assistants were told to lead the discussion portion of the lecture. So after a thirty minute introduction, he had twenty minutes to get his rag-tag group of bored underclassmen to dive into the nuances of a science ethics that they probably weren’t interested in.“Okay, so you guys are my group.” Peter grinned at the lackluster response. Only one student nodded. The rest were half asleep, and one kid rolled her eyes.“So, CRISPR. Genetic engineering.” Peter said brightly. “What are the ethical discussions that need to be happening in this field?”He glanced at his name list. The kid with black hair was Savannah, right? He looked at her expectantly. “Savannah? Wanna get us started?”The kid to her right looked up. Ooops. “Genetic engineering. Like the Lizard?”Peter sighed. “Not really the same but...were you here when that happened?” He did not like discussion points. Maybe they’d switch him to lab supervision if Crabapple hated him…She looked intrigued. “No.”“That wasn’t CRISPR, that was an injection that caused the good professor to mutate. Slightly different.” Peter said very quickly.“What about Spider-Man?” The kid-who-wasn’t-Savannah asked.“Uh. Unknown mutation?” Peter tried to look like he had no idea. “CRISPR is more closely related to getting the body to fight disease better, trying to fix genetic quirks that cause auto-immune disorders, not giving people access to their x-genes or what-have-you. So. Is it ethical to try and clean up an embryo's genes before it’s born?”“...to prevent them from becoming mutants?”“More like to make them resistant to HIV. Or, curing one individual from one particular disease. Like–”“Like making them resistant to the heat inducers used by that crazy villain–” A boy looked around the group, gauging interest.“Sure. Is it ethical to encourage gene editing on embryo DNA?” Peter interrupted.“I heard it started so many people’s Heats early. And ruts.” One student looked at Peter, looking utterly at ease discussing news in a science class.“Okay, on topic. We’ve only got fifteen minutes to go over this and it might be on the test.” Peter protested.“Really?” The bored looking goth asked, looking to her notes and not bothering to look lively.“Considering I don’t make the test, I have no idea, but if I did make the test, yeah, I think CRISPR and gene editing is a good topic. Ethical considerations are a huge part of the field. And it’s an easy thing to put on a paper test” Peter gave the group a smile, tapping at his printout of the reading.The whole group sighed. Savannah and her neighbor exchanged glances, and brought up the reading on a tablet. Savannah scrolled not raising her eyes, and her navigator leaned in, apparently avoiding meeting Peter’s gaze.“Yeah, yeah, not nearly as sexy as recent events. Back to sciencing! Should we back up? What do I mean when I say ethical?”“Parker! Why are you talking about Heats in a biochemistry class?” Of course, it was Crabapple. Or whatever his real name was.Peter went red in the face, feeling the attention of the room. He schooled his expression, but couldn’t help but look to the ceiling, praying he could keep his mouth shut. He wasn’t the one mentioning the D list supervillain.“We’re discussing ethical shit about CRISPR. Sir.” The goth kid said snidely. She scowled at the professor. “Gene editing and powers. You know. It’s relevant.”“Good!” Crabapple glared at the assistant who'd dared to be late once before he went to go check up on the other groups, and Peter flashed a conspiratorial grin to the goth girl.“Um. What’s your name again?”She smirked. “Jaden.”“Right. Back to work. Define terms, go from there.”***The Spider-Man suit was on the fritz. He’d put it off long enough, but now he really wanted a chance to repair the tech.If he’d had more time before patrolling, he could have taken his suit home, or to May’s where he had more equipment, but Otto’s lab had the precision tools he needed, so he risked it. He wanted to do maintenance on his Bluetooth mic, and check the connection to his newest burner, so he took the mask out, though it felt as bad as screaming his identity. He tried to work quickly and tried to keep it confined to the back worktable, but his secretiveness did him no good.Spider-sense didn’t warn him of people sneaking up on him if they weren't actually sneaking. Walking over wasn’t dangerous after all.“What’s that you’re working on, Peter?”
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“Is that Spider-Man tech?” Otto asked incredulously, his voice causing Peter to jump, but fortunately not inhumanly high.“Otto! Um–”Peter stilled. He couldn’t possibly have enough experience with Spidey tech— Spider-bots, Spider trackers— he waS careful to make them discrete, or else one time use. He couldn’t afford for anyone to trace it back to Peter Parker.“Well, isn’t that something?” He leaned in even as Peter tried to stand in front of his costume.“I’m sorry for not telling you– I just thought it would put the people I love in danger and–”“I suppose being Spider-Man’s tech supplier would put you in the line of fire,” Otto said slowly.Peter had enough control over his expression to not gape or widen his eyes, and he liked to think that he recovered quickly. He shook his head. “Yeah. I don’t want it to be well-known.”Otto reached out a and gently patted Peter’s shoulder. “It’s quite all right. My lips are sealed.”Peter did not deal with people offering help well. He felt on edge, on the verge of crying or screaming. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and told himself this was something he could let Otto do. He’d do it for someone else– it really wasn’t that much to ask. He’d show his gratitude by giving the final piece to the prosthetics his full attention. ***“Spider-Man has one more ally, he tried to tell himself. Not a weak point. Not a potential hostage,” Peter muttered to himself. “What’s done is done, and he thinks I’m the tech guy,” Peter reminded himself.He could do this. Otto’s project was a worthy one, and there wasn’t anyone he could trust more with revolutionary tech. They’d be improving so many more people’s lives. He took a deep breath, and went into the lab.“Otto?” Peter called.“Yes, yes,” Otto called from the depths of the lab, just behind dividing panels that kept their work out of direct line-of sight. Those panels were the only thing that prevented most students from seeing the work. “I was trying to, ah, clear the air a bit. The ventilating system is not working very well. Again.”“Well, I’ve got something to cheer you up!” Peter announced.Otto emerged from the privacy panels and eyed his new assistant. Otto was not a tall man, but he was big. His rounding middle and softening chin along with his circular glasses made him look like a startled owl, and the receding hairline didn't help with that impression. He was, however, someone Peter deeply respected and admired.“Is that so? Well? What is it?” He looked Peter up and down. “Did you…bring a suitcase? Whatever for?”Peter was always called ‘tall, for an omega,’ but he wasn’t exactly topping six feet. Instead, he was wiry and lean instead of soft in the chest or hips, and ‘just this side of starving,’ according to his aunt. Naturally, Peter ate whenever possible, but he couldn’t quite manage to shake the ‘growing young man’ look just yet. It might have had something to do with the inability to make both rent and adequate grocery runs on his paycheck.Otto turned as Peter manhandled the suitcase into the prime position. “What is this?” Otto looked grudgingly intrigued. He wasn’t yet optimistic, and probably looking for a way to drop the conversation and get back to work.Peter hadn’t known anyone as keen on the sciences as him before. With crinkling eyes and a broad smile, he started talking fast enough to get Otto’s interest back.“My neural interface. This device will store and connects the neurotransmitters. Proto-vesicles? Synthetic synapses? Both I guess. Still working on what to call it.” Peter grinned. “I couldn’t sleep. Preheat fever kept me up. Then I made a prototype. Um. I’ll probably have to take off earlier than usual soon-ish…maybe a week until the thing? Maybe more, maybe less.” Peter rifled through his bag to get the interface out, and with some fussing, he connected it to the mainframe.Otto looked at it dubiously. Octavius sucked in his breath, apparently noticing his own design elements. He did a double take at the…more improvised parts Peter had made. “Did you make this in your house?”Peter nodded. “Yeah, at my aunt’s house. My uncle, before he died, he uh, was a handyman, and an engineer in his youth, and we have…a lot of random stuff. Lots of parts to experiment with.” His wide brown eyes were bright, and he shoved a hand through his dark hair with a sheepish expression. Handymen weren’t exactly on par with the revolutionary scientist before him.Octavius examined it carefully, and started to pull at the bits of casing Peter had installed. “I don’t suppose you have blueprints? No, I suppose it was more of a spur of the moment development. The coding, though… I must see it. What did you need to update to fit this configuration?”Peter made a hmm noise, positive that Otto wasn’t actually looking for answers in just that moment. Like the scientist he was, Otto unceremoniously opened it up and moved it under the magnifying lens.“This is almost ready for the second stage…we can run tests, and then we can refurbish the working prototypes. This will make the copying system so much easier.”Octavius drew in a breath, and said very quietly, “This might work. Peter, I never dreamed you’d finish so early! You truly are a marvel.” Octavius’s eyes shone.“You built a marvel in a matter of days– we have only just begun to discuss the theoretical background of your proposal. I offered only the barest hint of where you needed to take it– and look at what you have done with the research. It’s no surprise Spider-Man's tech support can make flying spider drones.”“Well. with excellent work like this… I do wonder… are you the one behind the chemical spider-webs?” Otto smiled broadly, his whole face lighting up, He leaned in a little, sounding for all the world like an excited fan in that moment. “How ever does he keep it from burning the skin? Surely that pressurized contraption of yours must change the temperature of the liquid to solid so quickly– is it cold to the touch? Has Spider-Man ever caused burns on your…or his…test subjects?”Peter stammered, unused to people directing praise for his Spider-Man work directly. “Um! I don’t think so?? It err, theoretically cools rapidly when it’s projected. So more cold sticky than hot sticky, but not sub-zero cold, so, no. No.”Otto tapped the device, smiling once again. He shuffled over to get a recording device, dictating notes about his observations of the device. “Test Run number one… The device appears ready to connect, but this experiment will link it to the more conventional computer for phase one…”The doctor waved at Peter to ask a quick question, then just as quickly shushed him. “Nevermind, never mind. You’re in a delicate state… stop hovering, Peter.”“Hardly delicate,” Peter protested.Peter went to sit down and fill out his reports before Otto kicked him out for real. He might squeeze in some work before he’d need to fill out a ‘temporary leave of absence,’ too.…all these happy feelings were likely to do stuff to pheromones and, well, as Gwen might put it, he was hardly immune to estrus, or the part of the heat where things got hot. It was part of biology. Until then, it was time to go home and work on some other stuff. Maybe study or prep for how exactly one teaches stuff.“Peter?” Otto called. “Could I have a word?”“Yeah?” Peter grinned. “Sure, what’s up?”“It would be prudent to discuss the neural interface…”“Yes?” Peter stilled. “Is it about the port connection? I was thinking–”“It is really revolutionary, our project. Your work here is astounding. But still, I have some concerns that we should address. Your interface. Will it affect the amygdala?”Peter shrugged, spinning around to face the doctor. “Well, no, it’s just connecting to the body’s natural nervous system and sort of…helping our synthetic neurotransmitters connect to the body’s system. The interface is built to act like an external synapse to bridge the gap between machine and person.”“Theoretically.” Otto replied.“Well, it’s repairing the transmission of the motor neurons, and connecting those to the mechanical limbs. It’s got more to do with the motor cortex, not the amygdala.” Peter said doubtfully. “The amygdala, our emotions? Won’t be affected by the synthetic neurotransmitters we’ve made.”“If you were to make a mistake on the synthetic neurotransmitters, it could be an altogether different reaction though, couldn’t it?”Peter frowned. “I don’t think we’d make that mistake. There’s a huge difference in the chemicals to…make feelings and the ones created to move. This is just a console making it possible to move the limbs naturally.”What was the doctor trying to imply? Or was he just thinking about heading off the ethics committee and their predictable questions?“Yes,” Otto sighed. “You know about the grant extension position we’re in, so I suppose I can share the critique. One of the reviewers wondered how safe it was to create a synthetic neurotransmitter in the first place– the pharmaceutical companies may be extremely curious about our designs. It is revolutionary.”Peter stalled. “This is a very specific synthetic neurotransmitter, more of a chemical really, for motor neurons. The makeup is just different, and probably years away from any…other types of synthetic neurotransmitters that could possibly affect anyone’s emotions. We’re not making those.”“Of course,” Otto shrugged. “We’ll just have to make them see it our way.”Peter nodded slowly. “I was going to go.”Otto smiled. “Yes, you shouldn’t push yourself before your heat really starts.”Peter smiled, embarrassed. He hesitated. Fidgeted. “Sir…”“Yes?” Otto was back to his happy-in-the-lab habits, impatiently tapping one finger against the rough cloth of his labcoat and eyes sliding away from Peter’s.“...about the tech?”“Oh!” Otto exclaimed. “Of course. I meant to say, I’ll keep your secret, Peter Parker. I would never betray you like that.”With a relieved exhale, Peter relaxed in on himself. He felt a ton lighter. “Great. Thanks, sir.”“But I did wonder?” Otto said in the mildest of ways that meant he was extremely invested in the answer. “With your Heat coming up. Will you be able to make the project demonstration for our grant proposal?”Turning bright red and clenching his hands, Peter stuttered out a “Yes! My Heat won’t start for real until…next week at earliest?”Otto’s expression was soft. Indulgent, almost. “Excellent.” Then, with a look that was almost inquisitive, he wondered, “Your preheat is unusually long, isn’t it?”Peter wouldn’t remember later whatever he said to that because he retreated to his desk double time. He just needed out of that conversation. He glanced around. His laptop flashed with a new mail alert– it was from an unfamiliar address. NexTech, it read. Probably spam, he thought dismissively, but made a mental note to look into it. A few minutes later and his desk was straightened back to normal levels of messiness.On his way out the door, he texted MJ, happy to share the praise.As he was leaving, Peter thought he heard Octavius say, “I think we can move up the schedule.”The door closed behind him. *** Peter looked at the eviction notice pinned to the door like a decree, and scowled at the second one stuffed under his door with a feeling of dread. He knew he was running late on the rent and that it happened too often for anyone to be comfortable, but he never thought it would get to this point.The noise of the city flooded Peter’s ears, and he could distinguish the sirens a block away, the crying of cats and neighbors’ kids down the street, and the crawling of bugs in the dumpsters. He was momentarily unable to block out the excess vibrations and sensations as he tried to process the color, the font.He snatched the paper from the ground, opened the door, and tried not to mentally count the days. He had a little under a month to get his stuff together.The world may have felt like it shifted when he helped take down Fisk, but it sure seemed like the same old same old for Peter Parker. Behind on rent and even with his new job, didn’t see how he could fix the whole situation.He picked up his phone and tried to scroll through social media, but it was a bust when his thoughts kept drifting.A message burned through the brain fog.8:16
Miles:
Hey
Can you tutor me this weekend? I think I can help with your proposal– I’ve got a thing due too and we can just egg each other on until we both finish.8:17:
Peter?Peter was not ready for this. He didn’t know what to do with a protege, let alone one as smart as Miles.Two Spider-Men would obviously be good for the city. So much potential good to be done. But Peter was still wrestling with the morality of inviting a literal teenager into such dangerous work. Never mind the hypocrisy of his hesitation; it was different when you saw the teen instead of being the teen.8:18
Peter: Maybe next week. I’ve got some other personal stuff I put off for the project I just finished, and with the Big Boy project gone, I’ve gotta do some stuff.8:18
I’ll talk to you soon.The moving dots showed up almost immediately, but Peter couldn’t deal with it, so he put his phone down. He walked into his apartment, laughter building up. He just had to make it through the month. He needed to look at that agreement the university had given him; maybe it came with a “living” stipend. Maybe, just maybe, they’d invited him to live in the dorms.That could never work, Peter thought to himself. Spider-Man seen coming out of a dorm? Great way to get my secret identity blown.He could do this. He just had to try harder. ***
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MJ agreed to meet Peter early, before the evening's patrol. She made her way to the roof access over one of Peter’s preferred corner stores, and waited.He showed up with a quiet thwip, a roll and a flourish. Having spider tingles must be nice because he had a literal second sense to tell him when someone was watching. So she wasn’t surprised when he rolled up his mask and gave her a little kiss. His smile was playful, mischievous. “Isn’t someone feeling good,” she leaned into him. “I’m going out with Harry after this. Meeting him at a swanky little Brooklyn place for drinks and a few dances. You coming?”Peter looked hesitant, and if she didn’t know better, jealous. “Well,” he said slowly. “What about a mid-morning hangout?”MJ laughed. “Consider it. I sent you the address, and Harry probably will blow up your phone if he has even one drink.” They were quiet for a moment, thinking about how Harry got when he drank in college. MJ decided to sit on her oversized bag. It was big enough, which it ought to be, seeing that she planned on stashing her train-safe clothes into it before meeting Harry.Peter joined her without any qualms about sitting directly on the poured cement. He leaned back and looked at the sky, close to her but not touching. Always being careful. Maybe too careful.“So how’s Spider-Manning,” she asked.“Good. Pretty much just training the new kid, you know?” Peter’s voice was rolling and full of mirth. She wanted to laugh, but stilled the urge in favor of a sharp jab. “Well,” she said with a meaningful look, “does that mean you’re going to make time for living your life?”“I do!” Peter said too quickly. She thought about other relationships. How easy it looked, for people to lean in on each other, and how her parents had never managed. Sometimes MJ wondered what love was. She wondered if Peter knew that loving a friend was just as good as loving a partner. She sighed heavily, trying to think of how to move the conversation on. MJ fidgeted with the handle of her bag, trying to look like she was worrying about the lines in her outfit under the comfortable oversized sweater. She tried to look like she knew what to say, but in reality, she relied on a script. A script that hadn’t been working the way she wanted it to for ages.Peter tensed, responding to something he heard or sensed. MJ side-eyed him, already anticipating an abrupt departure. “Sorry— mugger. Catch you later!” Peter shot off a web, disappearing into the shadows of the street. MJ pushed away the feeling of defeat. She was still going to make the most of the night. She picked herself up, shouldered her bag slowly, feeling empty and cool. As she made her way to the next stop, she realized she didn’t tell him about her new job. “Next time,” she told herself.
MJ shimmied along in her glittery mini dress, clutch firmly pressed against her body. Her eyes were fierce, and she had a smile pasted on. It could have come off as confidence, or a strong independence– either way, Harry thought they caught more than a few looks while they waited to get in. “I heard this place was way better than anything in Manhattan recently; Brooklyn is the place to be.” MJ swayed as they forked over the cash to get in. It wasn’t an exclusive club, and before long they were waltzing in the direction of the bar. The place was large enough to not feel crowded, or seem like a local pub, and more importantly, new enough to have room for a dance as well as booths. The lighting was dim, golden and bright. MJ instantly relaxed, already moving to the rhythm even as they approached the bar. Harry and MJ traded grins, ignoring the bartender’s lingering looks. Two redheads got attention. Harry knew it, and he loved it, except when he didn’t. “Salary!” MJ crowed as she scoped around for seats. As of yet, none. It didn’t keep the smile off her face. “I am now officially not writing anymore click bait. Oh yeah, baby, no more ‘She bought a dress and you won’t believe how much it cost’ articles from me. I am a journalist.” The bartender was subtly checking her out, noting her soft face and plush lips. He probably was ticking off ‘omega’ in his mental checklist before he looked over at Harry’s scrawny, too thin face. That and his perpetually ‘youthful’ demeanor and he probably, definitely pegged Harry as ‘male omega’ with that one glance. Another strike against Harry’s confidence when the bartender went back to eyeballing Mary Jane.Sometimes he hated being an omega.Harry ignored the man and just smiled more, his eyes twinkling. It was easy when he was genuinely happy for MJ. “A toast! What will it be? I’ll treat you.” Harry tilted his head, tugging at his pale blue suit for his wallet. “Oh, just get me a beer. You can get something bougie for yourself if you want,” she playfully elbowed him. “Excuse me, could we get a beer and some non-alcoholic umeshu? Thanks,” Harry laid out some bills, waiting for the man to come over. “You pregnant? You shouldn’t be exposing all these people to your pheromones if you’re one of the Rabbit’s messes,” the man said bluntly, his demeanor anything but soft and congratulatory. Harry should have known. “And if somebody hits on you, we can’t really do anything for you until after someone’s tried something.”Harry rolled his eyes. “Designated driver,” he lied, but he wasn’t about to say he didn’t want to mix medicine and drinks. “I’m not pregnant.”The man stared at Harry’s collarbone, obviously looking for a mating bite, and Harry resisted the urge to adjust his shirt. The bartender took the money, got Mary Jane her drink from the tap and turned to get Harry’s decidedly less popular option. He put it down, apparently unwilling to even accidentally bump fingers.“You truly embody the club’s rep,” Harry drawled, channeling his ‘aloof, too smart for you’ dad. “Just brimming with ‘zero tolerance’ for sexism.” The guy choked on his spit. Harry smiled thinly and scooped up their drinks. Mary Jane wrinkled her nose. “Come on. I think those two are leaving— let’s grab their seats.”Harry and Mary Jane walked over to the table, MJ giving the pair who were slowly gathering their things a wide grin. She slid into the seat before their bags had entirely left the chair. Harry mouthed ‘sorry,’ but still sat down before resting his cane.MJ took a long pull from her beer and put it down on the table forcefully. “So now that we know I have steady employment, we can devote all our energies to you. So what’s happening?”“What's there to say? Peter and I are still talking. He’s making an effort to not disappear, I guess. Gwen comes over to make dinner with me sometimes. I see you every week. I’m doing good in the friend department.” Just not…relationships. He added silently. The old stirring of voices in his head, and one in particular made it difficult to keep a neutral face— the rabbit. Not the C tier supervillain, but his very own imaginary friend slash psychosis. Its little high pitched voice seemed so much like what other people called an “inner voice,” but since he saw things along with the voice, Harry’s was diagnosed as psychosis, and other people had ‘good imagination.’The rabbit sneered, the light making its white fur amber. No one could ever love you. We all know about your failed ‘relationships.’ Harry ignored it and started to speak. “Peter really seems to like Dr. Octavius. I think he’s busy.”The music changed to something techno, and MJ took another celebratory swig. “Don’t bother about Peter, baby cakes. How are you doing? You know, work, etc.”Harry flushed almost as red as his hair as MJ laughed. “You know I’m still an intern. My dad worked really hard to get me that position.”Mary Jane chuckled like it was a joke, but as always neither of them was sure if Harry was joking when it came to his father. “You work hard! You earned that paid internship.”“He’s working on a new drug. They have meetings about it with some of Stark’s crowd,” he felt like he was putting his foot in his mouth. “The pharmaceutical department at Stark industries is very competitive. He’s–”MJ rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, he’s very impressive. Most likely to take over the world, or at least the country, for sure. How about you? Looking to spread your wings?” Harry was unimpressed. “He’s not that bad. Just driven.”“He’s lucky he has you to ground him, you mean. Always looking for the best medicine for his baby,” she teased. She tossed her hair and seemed to miss Harry’s discomfort entirely. That was MJ for you; great for pushing you in the right direction, and horrible at tactfully encouraging something as mundane as ‘confidence.’ Harry made a face. “It’s not like he’s cooking up something shady. Just medicine.” Harry took a sip of his drink and flicked his phone screen on. “It seems like a slow night on the news front. Nothing dangerous since the Rabbit, right?”“Oh yeah. That guy is in detainment.” She tapped her fingers against the table, reminding Harry of all of Peter's little charms and witchy folk beliefs. Then he wondered why he was thinking of MJ's boyfriend, and flushed. They might be off right now, but, that was just because MJ needed space. And to be fair, Peter ought to be focusing on his work.Harry wondered if his smile was at all convincing. Probably not. He never was the actor that MJ could have been. “We all can use an off season from villains, but let’s not jinx it,” Harry tried. Don’t talk about them. If the villains come now it’ll be your fault, you stupid, stupid boy. The rabbit’s red eyes gleamed, the lights of the bar catching on its teeth. “I wonder what Peter will say when he sees me tomorrow. I didn’t wanna tell him who I’m working for over text, so he’s in for a surprise,” Mary Jane reached over to stroke Harry’s hand, bringing him away from the hallucination effortlessly.“So you’re just going to show up before his class? Hope that he is on time tomorrow so he can get your surprise?” “That’s the spirit.” MJ waved her hands, her smile turning pointed. “We know how he is. We can always celebrate amongst ourselves. Hey, I love this song!” Harry nodded and tilted his head towards the dance floor. “Shall we?”MJ brightened. “You feeling it tonight huh? Got to show these people how it’s done!”Mary Jane flounced over to the dance floor, beckoning for Harry. She joined the crowd, drawing eyes to her with her brightly colored dress and flashy dance moves. Harry was slower, and he certainly got stared at because of the cane, but he'd be damned if he let them get to him. The beat was heavy, the colors bold. Everything was painted in red, red, red, and the gold sparkles from the kitchy disco ball were all so intentional, it was fun. The rabbit was there, though, soft and unobtrusive one second and then glaringly surreal, eyes bulging and teeth overly large. They’re already staring at you. We should just leave before they do something worse. There’s always something worse! The rabbit ran between the dancers’ feet agitatedly. He ignored it and focused on MJ. She looked serene, her eyes closed as she danced, one arm raised towards the ceiling as the beat reverberated through them. Beside her, an alpha whistled. “Someone needs to call the firefighters because someone is on fire tonight!” The alpha reached for her, but she sidestepped. Harry restrained himself from cringing too obviously. MJ’s lips quirked, and she flipped her hair. She turned away, clearly uninterested, but the alpha didn’t back off. “Darling, what’s a pretty little omega like you doing out unsupervised?” The stranger didn’t touch her. Testing, testing, always pushing the line.MJ flashed her teeth at him. “I hardly need supervising, mister. Didn’t you hear about the Omega Rights Movement?” Harry could have laughed at the guy's expression, but he’d seen it too often. MJ would confront anyone. She was fearless and fun, but definitely not one for de-escalating. MJ turned away and Harry followed her lead. Harry’s dance moves weren’t nearly as big or bold. The lights helped, though, making everyone look better, and besides. He had practiced with MJ enough that his cane was a natural part of the dance. Harry would have quickly forgotten the confrontation, but the alpha tapped Harry’s shoulder. “Hey beautiful. You look like you’ve been left here all alone. Need someone to take care of you, doll?” Harry gave the guy an incredulous look and just shook his head. “I’m here with a friend actually. You don’t need to worry about me.”Mary Jane moved to dance in front of Harry. The alpha walked towards the bar, giving the two of them a confident smile. “Catch you later.”“Somehow I don’t think we've seen the last of him,” Harry worried. FLEE or bear it. The rabbit sulked. The song changed, and Harry picked up the pace, determined to ignore the anxiety brought on by overly-demanding alphas. He felt the beat in his bones and matched it. He thought fleetingly of school dances– back before he’d used a cane at all. He shook the thought away. Here and now, he and MJ were having fun. He closed his eyes and made a face at her, elated when she laughed all high and flutey. The song changed again, this time to something slower and boring, and Harry stopped to catch his breath, moving to the side, resting against the wall. He scanned the faces habitually.Harry squinted at a familiar one. Was that blond guy from Peter’s old work? Brock or something. Peter had worked at the Bugle before MJ, once a freelance photographer– just barely a step up from paparazzi, before he’d suddenly quit during their undergrad. Supposedly, he’d quit to focus on science. Or something. Harry wasn’t clear on the details.On the dance floor, MJ moved like a soloist. She was breathtaking, and she knew it. That guy from before just came into her space and started grinding. It was disgusting, Harry thought, and he was more than ready to call her over to get her out of it. He was only steps away from where she danced– he could be a peacemaker, surely. MJ was elbowing the alpha in the back, stepping away from him with a loud curse. “MJ! Next drink’s on me.” Harry winked. “This song is so not your style.” Some knight you are, the rabbit muttered. She doesn’t even need you–nobody needs you, omega. Nobody, nobody. Amidst all the red, the rabbit was white and black and a counter beat so convoluted he lost the music.Then the blond, the Bugle alpha, was back in Harry’s field of vision. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing? Back off!” Probably-Brock pushed his way through, getting in the alpha’s face, clearly looking for a fight.Harry stalled. Wait. If MJ is working at the Bugle…then she’s his coworker now. Not that Brock knew it.“Both of you, back the fuck off and cool down. I don’t want any alpha contest over little-old-me.” MJ said loudly, and she walked off the dance floor, leaving Harry to catch up.The rabbit was inculpable, of course. Blameless, all white fur and red eyes.Harry waited for her to reach him and put on a smile. He could pull off ‘celebratory energy’ with the best of them. “Forget those guys. Let’s get drinks.”The two of them moved back to the bar, pushing their way through the crowd. People watched the two alphas still glowering at one another, and looked over at the retreating omega. MJ just gave a sharp tooth smile and pointedly ignored everyone.“Now all we have to do is get Peter here,” Harry smiled. “I don’t know why we even bother going out though. These days I don’t feel like this is really my speed.”MJ moodily examined her nails. “Feeling the pressure at work?”Harry shrugged and tilted his glass toward her. “I feel it. I just don’t give up.”“Well, Peter isn’t exactly the type to want to go dancing. He doesn’t even go to those company party things. If he even went to an official function, I bet Peter would be super late.” MJ smiled as they queued up. Harry shrugged his agreement, wondering if he could’ve possibly dressed better. The old memories and small insecurities crashed back into him, so he opened his mouth. Like a fool. “True. He’d miss it even if it was for university or some swanky science lab event.”“A real Cinderella,” MJ signaled the bartender. “He’s probably working for his new boss...late. Again. I doubt he’s getting any homework done and is barely getting paid.” “Yeah?” Harry retrieved the umeshu he’d abandoned when the queue got them close enough. “He’s so excited about his internship and grad school. He hates ‘omega stuff,’ and really seemed to appreciate Otto not...alpha-ing.”Wordlessly, they glanced at the alphas still jockeying behind them.MJ put her hand over Harry's drink. "You're not drinking that." Look for the bright side, the rabbit said in a false baby voice. Baby boy doesn’t know when to quit. Harry snorted. “Well, Ms. I-made-it-as-a reporter, what do you want to do now?” He wanted to sit down. Was he too obvious?“We just have to wait for Mr. Alpha’s alpha to finish his duel, right? Then I can go right back to doing what we were doing— having a blast.” She shot a look at the group of dancers. “My drink isn’t coming and I didn’t like that bartender much. So might as well.” She sat down, as though reading his mind, and got them out of the line.Harry smiled at her again. “I don’t think I can keep up with you all night. Fancy a photo on the dance floor?”“How about we chat for a while then? Just us omegas, sitting here and sharing tea about our workplaces. I’ll go first. Jonah has a hate-boner for Spider-Man,” she said in all seriousness. In that lighting, she looked like a movie star, getting a closeup for some serious scene. Harry gave her an incredulous look. “Oh boy, more about Jonah. You know Peter always went on and on about him.”MJ shrugged. “I thought maybe it was just to sell papers or or you know click-bait sort of stuff. But I think he really does despise poor Spidey. The Bugle is the only paper focusing more on the ‘Spider-Man sticks his nose where it doesn't belong! Again!’ angle than the ‘Heat Induced Omegas are the worst!’ angle. Kinda makes me proud not all news outlets are taking the predators side, though.”Harry hummed, awkward and uncomfortable. “I can’t believe you’re going to be working there. Peter made such a fuss about quitting.”“Well, those articles can be entertaining, even if Peter hated the tone…you should hear him hate-reading these days. ‘The Bugle only published that story because the couple was mad at Spider-Man.’ Yadda yadda. To be fair, some of it’s very yellow newspaper."Harry kept smiling despite the rabbit’s gnashing teeth. Any mention of the other rabbit had him seeing double. Why did New York have to have a rabbit supervillain?“But real New Yorkers are Spider-Man fans, right? I mean he’s so obviously trying to help people.” MJ went on.“You keep talking about Peter. I’ve lost track– are you two on again, or off again?” Harry raised an eyebrow. MJ raised both eyebrows and threw back her shoulders. “No one is waiting up for me at home, and I have no one to wait for. I belong to nobody but myself, and I love it. It’s really nice having my own place, and I can finally get ahead on rent with the salary.”“...but you’re still kinda on,” Harry nodded. He couldn’t help but poke at the sore spot. Peter was off limits, a childhood friend, and so in love with Mary Jane it hurt to look at the two of them together.MJ was hardly a vulnerable person, but the look she gave him was soft, but her whole body closed up as she drew in for a confident toss of her hair. “Nope. Just. Okay with a little Heat action. If he needs it. Nothing more.”Harry privately wondered if Peter knew that. Peter, who had his attention all over the place and on top of that, had that inability to notice small social cues until they bit him on the nose. Or other places.“Yeah, well, dad is probably done trying to set me up with a company date,” Harry gushed. He would be positive about this if it killed him. He grimaced and then gave another smile. “Maybe the next one will be a winner.”If MJ had trouble sharing, Harry was the exact opposite. Over, over, overshare all with a charming smile he’d practiced so much it looked great. “I’ve got room to take on a new project. MJ picked her phone up, checked the notifications, and resolutely put it back in her clutch. She nodded once.“You remember the research stations?” Harry said quickly. “I’m still lobbying for those, like, in my department and all. And I’m in a position to actually make a difference. The thing is, while doing so I heard about a commercial bee thing. It’s some kind of project takeover, and some idiot decided on…robot bees?” He forced a laugh.“Yeesh,” MJ agreed, and the reporter part of her seemed to be taking notes. “Any names for me?”“No,” Harry admitted. “I’m just trying to convince them to try and save native pollinators, you know? Robots would be too expensive. And probably have the worst consequences.”MJ nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah. True.” Harry had all of two seconds to wonder if maybe, just maybe, he should stop talking to MJ about internal Stark Industries stuff. She was sharp, and looking for a way to impress her boss. Then he looked up and noticed the music was loud and the dance floor was not too crowded. “And look…that’s our cue. The alphas are done raging it out.” He observed.“You want to sit this one out and rest a little?” MJ queried softly.“We need to get his party started!” Harry said a little too forcibly. He could use a good distraction, try to make his body remember to have fun. He didn’t need a partner for that. Just a good friend. Peter will never love you. The rabbit reminded him. No one will. The red and gold lights never seemed so ominous. But Harry got up anyway, taking MJ’s hand and leading them onto the floor. Gratifyingly, MJ laughed, high and bright. He was happy for her. And that was enough.