Aracnophobe

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Peter got home from patrol about half an hour ago, and Grace is finishing up dinner while he washes up. It's just spaghetti, so it's nothing too difficult, and it allows her to keep an eye on Tasha, who's sitting in her high chair. She has some toys in front of her, keeping her occupied until she decides she's hungry. Grace could feed her now probably, but she isn't fussy yet, and Peter wanted to do it.

Tasha babbles, and Grace mimics the noise, laughing. As she turns back towards the stove, though, her laughter abruptly stops.

There, right on the counter, sits a spider. Not a tiny one, either, but one about as big as a quarter. She jumps away immediately, half hoping the thing will walk onto the stove and just die on its own, but it simply sits there, blocking Grace from her stirring spoons. She gags, looking away from it. "Peter!"

"What, what's wrong?" he asks, jogging in from the bedroom, his hair still damp from his shower. Grace just tries not to gag again, pointing to the menace on the counter.

"Oh, cool. Hey, little buddy. Where'd you come from?" He puts the little guy on a paper plate, then carries him over to Grace on his way to the window.

She takes one look and gags again, going to the other side of the room. "Please get your 'little buddy' out of here so I can stir my noodles in peace."

"I..." Peter starts, surprised. "Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously! Get him out."

Peter numbly opens the window, putting the spider outside. "I... I can't believe it."

"What?"

"I literally had a baby with you and I never even knew that you're afraid of spiders."

"I'm not afraid of spiders," Grace protests, gingerly making her way over to the stove again. "I just... dislike them."

Peter closes the window, rolling his eyes. "Oh, yes, of course, because you're not afraid of anything. My mistake. You're fearless."

"Precisely."

"Still, I mean... I'm literally Spider-Man, and you never thought to tell me that you're afr-" she shoots him a look, so he corrects himself "- that you dislike spiders?"

She shrugs, stirring the noddles. "It just never came up."

"How did it never come up?"

"I don't know."

His brows furrow as he squints at her, getting suspicious. "Unless you were purposely hiding it from me."

She turns to him abruptly. "Are you on something?"

Peter shakes his head, wondering at the circumstances. "I just can't believe this."

"Oh, my gosh, you're so dramatic."

"I... I gotta call Ned. He has to know about this."

"What for?"

"I need to talk to somebody else about this. Someone else has to know. This is just... it's unbelievable."

Grace sighs, turning to her daughter. "Tasha, I'm afraid you'll have to put up with this for a while; he'll be talking about it at least until you go to college."

"I really just can't believe it. Spider-Man's wife doesn't like spiders."

"Well, I can't blame her at all, 'cause I don't either."

"But why?"

"What do you mean why? Just look at them. They're..." she grimaces "... disgusting."

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