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Peppermint Spiders

Ever since Peter got bitten by that spider, Tony wasn't exactly sure what his son could and couldn't do anymore. He'd heard and read lots of things about spiders, such as their intolerance to garlic and peppermint, and whatever else Peter had rambled on about, but in the weeks that passed, they'd never done any tests. They had no way to be sure what had been altered in Peter--except for the obvious. Was Peter affected by the same things as normal spiders, or was he still human, for the most part?

The only way they could know was if they ran the tests--but that didn't mean they had to do it formally.

*****

It had been a month since Peter got bitten by the radioactive spider. A month to get used to his powers. A month to decide what he wanted to do with the powers. Obviously, he chose to use the powers for good, or else New York wouldn't see their favorite red-and-blue clad figure swinging all around the place. And besides, would Tony Stark really accept a villain as his son? No, Peter didn't think so. He doubted Tony would even let him go to the dark side in the first place.

And yet, despite wanting to help people, that didn't always mean that people wanted to help Peter. Like now, for example, he was limping away from a finished fight that lasted a few moments longer than expected, because of a gun that had gone unnoticed until there was already a bullet lodged in his thigh. The person with said gun was now stuck to a wall, coated with a sticky, web-like substance that Peter had manufactured himself--and was really quite proud of.

"Are you alright, ma'am?" Peter asked, wincing as he eased his weight onto his uninjured leg to let the hurt one hang lamely.

The woman he'd been defending nodded shakily, and looked at his leg, cringing at the blood that slipped down his thigh, to his knee, and down his calf. "Are you?" she asked.

"I'll be fine," Peter said as brightly as he could, waving her concerns off. "I'll be right as rain by tomorrow." Indeed he would be. One of the many things that surprised him when he got bitten by the spider was how fast he healed. One of the first times he went out on patrol by himself, he got shot and was bleeding, much like he was now, but didn't tell anyone. He fished the bullet out himself, after a painful trial-and-error experience, and went to bed, exhausted. The bullet wound had healed the next morning, even though he was late for school because he slept in a little too much.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. You need help getting home?"

The woman shook her head, glancing at the man who was unconscious, gun dropped on the ground. "Uh, n-no, I'll be fine. Th-thank you, Spider-Man."

Peter saluted. "No problem." And he watched the woman walk away, a little hurriedly. Only when she was out of sight, Peter allowed himself to crumble to the ground with a low groan, wound pulsing with pain, and the rest of his leg just throbbing painfully. He didn't know how he was going to swing home, but he was gonna. So, he shot a web, and began the journey home.

Ten minutes later, Peter tumbled in through his bedroom window, high upon Stark Tower, and winced as he crumpled to the floor, biting back a whine of pain. His leg was screaming in agony now, but half dragged himself, half crawled to the bathroom, trying to get as little blood on the heated carpets as possible.

"Peter, you appear to have several lacerations, and there is a bullet wound in your--"

"Yes, I know!" Peter hissed, breath catching in his chest as his leg gave an extra painful throb. "Do not tell dad," he ground out as he hauled himself through the bathroom door. From there, he closed it, locked it, and promptly collapsed, trembling from the pain. "Okay," he muttered to himself, breath trembling, "Okay, okay, okay, okay. I got this. I'm okay, I got this." Wow. Wonderful pep talk right there.