˚ ༘ ✶ ₊ ˚. ི CHAPTER 5.
࿐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ˢᵗⁱˡᵉˢ ᵏⁱⁿᵈᵃ ᶠⁱᵍᵘʳᵉˢ ⁱᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ
"YO! HEY! PETE? WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU LAST NIGHT, YOU DIDN'T ANSWER ANY OF MY TEXTS" Stiles words almost make Peter jumps, his body still mostly asleep and aching from the night before. He still had bruises all over his body, even if his bones had healed, he felt like he'd been hit by a train.
Seven times.
"Sorry, I - uh - I helped Scott last night." Peter mumbled, leaning against the lockers with the rest of the pack, Malia looked at him with concern, smelling the pain radiating off of the boy. "Sorry."
Scott looked at Peter with empathy. Peter had just met all of these people and Scott has asked him to lay his life on the line.
And he did it without question. And he'd been beaten and battered like crazy, and still managed to get to school, even if that meant wearing a 'I survived New York' shirt three sizes too big for him, a fuzzy pair of Hello Kitty pajama bottoms, and flip flops.
"You helped find Liam?" Stiles questioned, wondering what Peter had done if he'd denied joined him and Lydia at Eichen.
Scott nodded. "Yeah. And he - uh - helped fight a berserker too. Found a good lead pipe and - " Scott re-enacted the motion of hitting something over the head. "You know."
If Peter was more awake, he'd let Scott know how thoughtful it was of him to actively protect Peter's alter ego. It's meant a lot, and Peter was eternally grateful for the kind alpha. But, Peter was mostly focusing on not throwing up all of the tile floor, so.
Stiles lifted his brows, clapping Peter's shoulders roughly. "Hey! Thatta boy!" Peter groaned, wincing away from Stiles' touch. "Ooh, sorry, sorry."
Peter waved him off. "All good. Feeling good, feeling fresh." He moaned, shutting his eyes under the bright lights, honestly wanting nothing more than to sleep for eight years.
Stiles smiled, "I hope so, because we need to talk about your fashion choices. Lydia would have your head." He muttered, poking fun at the boy's lazy outfit and flip flops.
"If I survive high school, I'd like to go to college. A good college." Scott mumbles, trying to drag the spotlight off of Peter for a moment and focus back on the task of the day.
The PSAT.
Kira shrugs, a girl Peter also wasn't familiar with, but had seen around school. Her dad was a history teacher, but that was all he knew. "It's only three hours. We can survive three hours."
Peter scoffs, his tiredness blocking the normal amount of awkwardness and shyness. "You'd be surprised."
Stiles shakes his head, smiling at the Parker boy. A boy that was very much proving himself in the pack. It almost comforted Stiles with the fact the Peter was human, like him, and holding his ground. It made Stiles feel a bit more helpful amongst the group of werewolf's and banshee's. "Alright Pete, let's go rock this test."
Peter nodded, a certain warmth radiating off of Stiles, the scent of cheap drugstore cologne, cinnamon, and pine trees wafting into his nose. A 'Stiles thing' he assumed. But he enjoyed the moment anyway, shuffling into the classroom like the rest of the miserable students, waiting in line to get the credit for actually taking the test.
The Parker boy felt a cold chill shudder down his spine and a wave of goosebump rise on his arms, but he pushed the feeling down, too tired and too engulfed in the scent of Stiles Stilinski to care. Peter pushed his thumb onto the ink pad, pressing into the paper, sliding his phone into the envelope without a second thought. And he didn't even bother to think about the fact this was the first time he'd gone somewhere without the spider suit. All he was worried about was sleeping after he finished the test.
Peter was a smart kid, truly. Straight A's, advanced placement, scholarships and internships his for the taking. But tests freaked him out, every time. His intelligence was one of the few things Peter was confident about, and he didn't like having to prove that based on some stupid questions on paper. And in addition to the chronic fear building up inside of his due to the life-paving test, Stiles Stilinski had found the audacity to take a seat next to him.
How in the world was he supposed to focus when Stiles Stilinski was sitting beside him the whole time?
"Hey, Pete." Peter's heart dropped at the nickname, as he inwardly cursed himself for being such a sucker for nicknames. "My dad said Spider-Man got him to the hospital last night. Like, legit Spider-Man." Stiles gushed, leaning over in seat.
Peter hummed, his eyes finally all the way open and mostly awake. "The real Spider-Man?"
Stiles nodded. "Yeah. Apparently the kid was like, broken, and still carried his ass into the hospital."
Peter smiled. Sometimes he liked to admire the small things in his life. For example, being unknowingly praised by his three-year crush. It was exhilarating for the Parker boy. "I guess he's pretty cool."
"Pretty cool? Peter, I've met the dude like, once. He's a dream boat. And by the way, since when are you buddies with Spider-Man?"
Peter smirked. "Uh— you know, small town."
"This test is two hours and ten minutes. There will be two 25-minute critical reading sections, two 25-minute math sections and an essay writing portion that will last thirty minutes." The man in the front of the classroom spoke in a monotone voice, Lydia's mom standing beside him, her eyebrows cinched as she dialed a number on her phone for the third time.
The two adults muttered together quietly, something about Coach Finstock, before Ms. Martin strutted off down the hall, only to return minutes later. Peter yawned.
"I can't find him. But Mr. Yukimara is upstairs grading papers. Do you want me to try him?"
The shrill man shook his head, "We have to start. We can ask for assistance during the first break." He mumbled, looking back to the whispering group of students. "You may now open your textbooks and begin."
Peter sighed, flipping open his test booklets, resting his head on his hand as he bubbled in the answers, not giving much attention to the english section.
He was more of a science geek.
Ten minutes in, Peter's nerves had betrayed him, sending him rushing to the bathroom in a panicky fit, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Stiles had watched him scramble from his seat and rush from the room.
He'd ask him about it later.
And Peter's seat was still empty when a girl two rows away collapsed from her seat, crumbling to the floor. Ms. Martin rushed to help the girl up, concern in her eyes as she helped the girl up. "Sydney? Are you okay?"
The girl blinked slowly. "I'm okay. I just got kinda dizzy." She muttered, sitting in her seat with a soft glaze in her eyes. Almost out of it, a bit confused.
As she collected herself back in her seat, Ms. Martin eyes met Sydney's wrist, seeing the black veins spidering out. Her eyes widened. "Sydney, how long have you had this?"
Sydney furrowed her brows. "I don't— I don't know."
The test instruction furrowed his brows, leaning up a bit. "Ms. Martin? Do I need to stop the test?"
The red headed woman looked at him wildly before walking through the aisles of seats, pulling out her phone, tapping away. "No - um - it's fine. Everybody stay in your seats. I'll be back in a minute. Nobody leaves the room."
Stiles looked to Peter's empty seat and then to the door, a quick thought crossing his mind.
Is Pete okay?
Sheriff Stilinski arrived on the scene rather quickly, hearing the words 'Beacon Hills High' and 'quarantine' were not the things he'd hoped. He knew way too many kids in that school to not show up and handle everything, specifically his kid.
"Can anyone tell me what's going on?" Sheriff questioned aloud, a doctor from the CDC being the only who wanted to do so.
Dr. Wentz stood at the entrance of the school beside the man in uniform. "Hopefully a false alarm. The details provided have concerned us and your local health authorities enough to order a quarantine. We're going to need your help ensuring that no one gets in or out of the school."
"My son is in there."
The doctor turned to look at him, lifting her brows expectantly. "Is that going to be a conflict for you?"
The sheriff crossed his arms and sighed. "A conflict? No. Stressful? Yeah."
"I can't make them go back." Scott complained, looking at his hands, his finger still baring sharp claws that he'd prefer not to sport in the hallway of his high school.
Mr. Yukimara stood next to Kira, him being the only adult in the building that knew about them. "Obviously the virus is affecting the two of you in a way it won't hit any human being. You guys have to stay out of sight. We have to quarantine you from the quarantine." He warned, his hand on Kira's shoulder supportively.
Stiles furrowed his brows, twisting around nervously, his eyes searching around him.
"Stiles? What is wrong with you?"
He looked back into the group, a worried look swirling in his eyes. "Peter. Where's Peter? He never came back from the bathroom. We have to find peter. What if he's— "
Scott grabbed his shoulders lightly. "Woah, woah, hey, calm down. We can go find him. We can spilt up, Malia and Kira, you and me, and Mr— "
But Mr. Yukimara immediately shut him down. "No. You'll all get caught. I'll find him. You all need to get somewhere isolated from everyone else."
Kira shook her head, slightly confused. "Yeah, but where? I mean, what if they get violent? Like on a full moon."
And it takes a moment to cross ideas off the list, classrooms, locker rooms, and Scott already knows if he's violent, it's not gonna work. "We need something secure. Somebody nobody can find us."
"The vault. The Hale vault." Stiles blurted. "I'll get them there, it'll probably be accessible through the basement." He glanced down to his forearm, seeing the spidering out black veins.
Scott seemed to notice too, "It's happening to you too."
Stiles pulled his sleeve over the webs, shaking his head. "That means you're gonna get worse. And it means Peter is sick too. And we have to go, now."
"No, sorry. I don't have a Peter Parker. I have a Oliver Parker?" Third and last proctor answered, Mr. Yukimara sighing and thanking him softly before leaving the room.
He stood aside from the door, placing his hands on his hips and sighing again. He was out of classrooms and still no Peter Parker. And if he didn't bring him back, he knew Stiles would lose his mind.
A cough echoed from down the hall, coming from the boys bathroom near the staircase. Mr. Yukimara furrowed his brows, making his way to the restroom hastily, peeking in his head from around the corner.
And sure enough, a boy was laying in the corner of the bathroom, leaning against the wall, his shirt discarded, leaving him in Hello Kitty pajama bottoms and his surprisingly toned abdomen revealed.
Oh Peter.
"Hey Mr.— Mr. Yukimara." Peter breathed out, barely audible, his breathing scratchy and uneven, bullets of sweat trailing down his face from his hairline, a sheen of sweat covering the rest of him. "You good? I'm great. How are you?"
Mr. Yukimara sighed, moving forward and kneeling down in front of Peter. "Mr. Parker, what happened? How are you feeling?"
"Well you know, I— I get really nervous for tests and I— I kinda came in here to calm down. And— and then I think I kinda— I think I fainted. And when I got up it was— it was really hot in here. And now I'm kinda— I'm really tired."
The man looked at Peter with pity. Peter had been sitting, suffering, on this bathroom floor for over two hours. And the amount of effort he could see the Parker boy putting into seeming as healthy as possible was honestly heartbreaking. He could even see Peter try and force out a smile.
"Okay Peter, I need you to tell me something. What are you? Are you a werewolf, like Scott?"
Peter furrowed his brows, blinking slowly before placing a finger over his lips, his hand seemingly weighing 300 pounds. "Shhhh! I can't— I can't tell anyone I'm Spider-Man. I can't— I can't tell you."
"Spider-Man?"
"No one can know, so don't— don't tell anyone! No even you, Mr. Yukimara, sir." Peter spoke, his eyes weighing closed every now and then. His words slurring and his hand dropping to the ground.
Mr. Yukimara sighed, before pulling Peter off the walls, and lifting him off the floor, most if not all of Peter's weight leaning onto him, a grunt echoing in the bathroom. A tight wince was plastered onto Peter's face as a pulsing ache radiated across his body. "Okay, buddy, we gotta get you somewhere else. Can you tell me why you think you feel like this?"
Peter's head lolled onto his shoulder. "I googled spider bites when it bit— when it bit me. These are the symptoms, I— I think. I dunno." And Peter was silent for a bit, before turning his head to the teacher again. "Hey Mr. Yukimara! When did you get here?"
"Oh Peter."
Stiles eyes widened when he turned, Scott pushing open the vault door to reveal Mr. Yukimara and Peter Parker, well, a very very tired Peter Parker. Kira's dad was out of breath, carrying the mostly asleep teen across the school and managing to keep away from any CDC workers, teachers, and the police. His arms gave out, Peter tumbling to the floor in a heap.
"Peter!" Stiles exclaimed rushing to his side, pulling him further into the vault as Mr. Yukimara explained the circumstances best he could to Scott before wishing Kira another goodbye, and the vault sealing shut once again.
"Hey Miles." Peter mumbled quietly, his eyes barley opening at the sound of the Stilinski boy. Stiles' eyes immediately began watering, not used to seeing Peter being so weak, not joking around and laughing. Not having a cheesy smile on his face.
Stiles leaned against a wall, letting Peter's head rest in his lap, knowing by how hot the Parker was, he'd enjoy his bare back being against the cold warehouse flooring. "Pete, what the hell happened to you?"
Scott turned, "It'a the spider bite. It's what would've happened if he didn't change." He mumbled quietly, Stiles lifting his head.
"Spider bite?"
Peter's eyes flickered open, "Oh! No! Stiles can't— he can't know I'm Spider-Man!"
Stiles gaped, looking up to Scott, a slight wince on the alpha's face. Even if it was Peter's secret to tell, Scott still took part in hiding said secret. "He's— is he— Peter is Spider-Man?"
"Stiles can't know!" Peter tapped Stiles weakly, his mind fuzzy and tired, his sight blurring a bit and his heart racing. The room felt a million degrees and all the lights were burning his eyes.
Scott shook his head. "He wouldn't let me tell you."
Stiles scoffed. "Duh! It's like ... the most trade secret of all! That's— oh my god. That means he— he saved my dad. He saved your dad. Penis Parker who wears sweaters and likes chemistry. He's Spider-Man. The actual Spider-Man."
Scott smiled.
Stiles was so whipped and he didn't even know it.
But the smile quickly faded, as the echo of teachers above them rang into Scott's ears. All of the mumbling something about missing students. The missing students being them, the pack, Peter who'd gone to the bathroom two and half hours ago. "They're looking for us. All of us."
Stiles lifted his head, his hands still unconsciously and nervously messing with Peter's hair, fixing it, brushing through it. "What?"
"Someone knows about us." Scott spoke warily.
Stiles stared at Scott, working through it in his mind. the sickness, the severity of it. It was worse for the supernatural, and it had to be fatal. There was no way Peter could've dropped like this from anything else. "It's an assassin. They knew you'd be here."
He shuffled, sliding Peter off his lap slowly, placing his jacket under the boy's head carefully. Though the movement still seem to stir the spider boy. "Good morning Stiles." Peter hummed, a small smile forming at his delusions.
Stiles chuckled. "Hey Pete, I gotta go, okay?"
"What? No... no, you— I can't protect you. I'll - I'm coming. Give me— give me a minute. Hold on." Peter rushed out, groaning as he attempted to sit up, the excruciating pain flowing through his veins. "I'm— I'm coming."
A tear slid down Stiles' face as he easily held the Parker down, forcing him to stay. "Pete, you have to stay, okay? I'm gonna be right back. Right back. It's worse for you guys, people aren't just getting sick. It's an assassin."
"I have to keep Stiles safe." Peter whispered, already half asleep again. "I have to— I have to keep..." His voice faded as he stopped struggling, laying down.
Stiles nodded. "God, I feel like I just kicked a freaking puppy." He muttered, wiping away the tear and standing, heading toward the vault door, also promising Scott to come back with an antidote before pulling open the door, and slinking out.
Stiles had managed to end up in Coach Finstock's office, the man passed out in his chair, the spider webbing veins visible by the neck of his shirt. And his eyes moved to the team photo frames on the wall of the office.
Which Stiles was honestly surprised by, never taking Coach as the sentimental type.
And he found Peter amongst the team, standing two boys down from him and Scott, a cheesy smile on his face, lacrosse stick in hand and a thick 03 on his jersey.
"Oh, and one last thing. Stiles, good job on the field today." Spider-Man mumbled, before dashing out of the locker room.
He was still baffled at the fact Peter had been behind the suit the whole time. Maybe it was the new confidence Spider-Man held that Peter didn't, the strength and bravery he could have when he wasn't Peter Parker.
"I was wondering how that idiot got sick."
Stiles whipped around, coming face to face with the proctor who'd been in the classroom with him. A silenced pistol in his hand and an overly judgmental stare in his eyes.
"I was also wondering where your friends were. Since in order to get paid by the benefactor, I need to have proof they're dead."
Stiles swallowed harshly, his muscles tightening at gun point. "Visual confirmation."
"Exactly." He hummed, before his eyes moved to Stiles' arm, his jacket no longer hiding his spreading black veins, now that it was in the vault, under Peter's head. "Still a bit feverish, Mr. Stilinski? But, you should know something, the virus doesn't kill humans. You'll get better."
Stiles let out a shaky breath, his wide eyes glued to the man as he circled around him.
"So don't you think you should tell me where they are? Shouldn't one of you get to live?" He narrowed his eyes.
"I think I saw them in the library. Or it might've been the cafeteria. It was definitely one of those two." The lies flowed from Stiles' mouth almost too easily, shrugging as he spoke, trying to push down his paralyzing fear.
The man didn't seem to care for the fake answer, straightening his arm and fixating his aim in between Stiles' eyes. "I'm going to count to three, and then I'm going to kill you."
The vault occupants seemed to be getting worse, the rest of the students on ground level healing nicely. Kira and Malia had fallen to the floor not to long ago, their sight leaving along with their ability to keep warm.
But the threat that the man had spoken to Stiles, and found its way into Peter's ears, making the tired boy let a tear slide from his eye, his body screaming in pain as he attempting to move his limbs, anything to get out of the damned vault. "St - Stiles."
"You think you can scare me?"
The man tilted his head to look at Stiles from behind the barrel of the gun. "No. I think i can kill you. I just thought the countdown would be more exciting. Especially with our audience, Mr. Parker, listening in from wherever he is. Can you hear me, Peter? My finger on the trigger? Your friends name written on the bullet?"
Stiles clenched his jaw tightly, tightening his fist at his side. Hence another reason being human was nothing more than an inconvenience.
"A tragedy, truly Mr. Parker. One... two..."
And a gunshot rang out, blood spattering onto Stiles' face, the assassins body crumbling to the ground, a fresh hole through his forehead. And Raphael McCall behind him, his own gun raised and lowering from its spot.
Stiles let out a breath he'd been holding, his eyes wide and his body shaking. "Where the hell did you come from?"
A tear slid out of Peter's mostly shut eyes, his heart shattering completely. He was here, and Stiles' corpse was upstairs, bleeding out with a bullet in his brain. And suddenly, all of the pain from the virus - spider bite - whatever the hell it was, couldn't compete with the heartbreak digging a hole through Peter's chest.
Because Peter was supposed to be a hero.
And the dots connected. Stiles went to save Peter, Scott, and everyone in that vault. And it was their fault Stiles was gone. It was Peter's fault.
So he unclenched his muscles, loosening his grip on Stiles' jacket under his head. He let his eyes shut completely, and his mind went quiet.
It was peaceful.
He slept, and he thought of Stiles.
"Stiles listen, I got a call from Melissa. And I don't know what it means." Agent McCall explained, stepping closer to the blood spattered boy, Stiles still a bit shaky from the moment before. "She said there's an antidote. It's in the vault, reishi mushrooms." He prayed the Stilinski would understand what he didn't.
Maybe get some use out of it.
"Wait— what— what's in the vault?"
"It's in a jar on one of the shelves." Agent McCall reiterates, just as Melissa had said on the call. "She said to tell Scott, it's in the vault."
And it takes a moment to process the new information, but Stiles slips on his sneakers, skidding out of the office and sprinting down the hallway, jump dodging a CDC worker that called his name as he ran. But he ran faster at each turn, taking five steps at a time as he rushed down the stairs to the vault.
And the realization that he can't get in sets in rather quickly as Stiles slams into the stone door, banging on it relentlessly, "Hey Scott! Scotty! It's in the vault! It's in there with you!" He called through the wall, his nerves tearing apart as he got nothing in response.
"It's called reishi mushrooms! It's in there with you! Scott? Scott, open the door! Scott! Sc— Scott can you hear me?" His voice breaks, his throat aching a bit. He slides down the side of the door, his fair share of the virus kicking in, his energy dropping to zero. "Scott? P— Pete?"
Though from inside, three of four stir. Kira breathing heavily. "Scott ... Scott, i saw it. In a jar, on one of the shelves." She repeats, catching the alphas attention. his mind searching for any way for him to know which jar on which shelf.
And it hits him, his eyes closing briefly before opening again, revealing the blood red color of the alpha he was. And the blindness faded, Scott scrambling to his feet, his hands searching the shelves.
Forcing himself to ignore the small unmoving figure of Peter B. Parker across the vault.
And finally, his eyes land on the glass jar of dried mushrooms, wasting no time on sliding it off the shelf, it falling and smashing on the vault flooring. The dust of the antidote lifted into the air, the four inside suddenly sucking in heavy breaths. Peter shot up from his position, eyes wide and mouth gaping for air.
Scott breathed a breath of relief as he moved to the door, sliding it open to reveal the defeated Stilinski, the boy stumbling to his feet, a bit of tears in his eyes. "Scott." he whispered in relief, not hesitating to yank the wolf into a bone crushing hug.
He released, Scott moving to help Kira and Malia to their feet as Stiles moved to head back to Peter. He'd found his way to his feet as well, knees still a little shaky, his white t-shirt back on his body. "Pete."
Peter lifted his head quickly, seeing the boy he'd though to be dead. "You're not— you're not dead."
Stiles chuckled. "Sorry to disappoint."
And it clicked in the Parker's head. Stiles knew everything now. everyone around him knew he deepest secret, the one he'd sworn to never tell a soul. And everyone around him had been put in danger.
Because of him.
"I gotta go." Peter mumbled, handing the folded jacket back to the teen, who was more that confused as the hero sulked away quickly, not leaving it to a negotiation.
And a slip of paper floated out, gliding across the vault floor, bumping into Malia's shoe softly. She bent down, picking up the small sheet, unfolding it with curiosity. Immediately wishing she hadn't, Malia reads the updated deadpool printed in front of her.
MALIA HALE 6
She shoved the paper against Stiles' chest roughly, following Peter out of the vault. Stiles gaped, wondering what in the hell had just happened. "What— what just happened? Pete and— and Malia?"
Peter sulked through the hallway, his flip flops smacking against the tile as tears streamed down his face. He's wasted his only opportunity with Stiles, gone, down the drain.
Everything was over now. Stiles knew Peter was Spider-Man. He knew that the once epic and heroic spiderling, was Penis Parker. The geeky kid tagging along like a puppy. That Peter Parker was a liar, a manipulator, a psychotic kid wishing he could help people.
"Peter!" A light voice called from down the hall, the pitter patter of white Keds running along the tiled hallway made the boy lift his head. His eyes met those of his Aunt May, sprinting towards him. "Peter!" The woman crashed into him, a tight hug crushing him as the woman breathed heavily. "Thank god you're okay."
Peter nodded, snaking his arms slowly around his aunt, needing her comfort for a reason separate from hers. "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm okay."
That was a lie too, but did it even matter anymore?
She released, pulling away and letting her hands find his jawline, cupping it gently. "What's wrong, Pete?"
"I— I lost someone today. Someone— someone really close to me. I can't— I can't see them again." He whimpered, not in the mood to hide yet another thing from her. He'd have to be vague, but anything to make the pain a little less would work for him. "Why does it hurt more to lose someone who isn't dead?" He mumbled, tears welling again.
She sighed, not giving a flying fuck what her boy was talking about this time. But he needed her, and hell if she was going to let him do anything alone after the day he'd had. "Peter, honey, I'm sure whatever happened? All things broken can be fixed, did you know that?"
He shook his head. "Not this time, May. I lied. I almost got him killed."
"It's a boy." She mumbled, feeling something in her shift as she was finally getting somewhere with him. And about boys. It was new territory for her. How do you console a kid about their love life? "Why did you let some boy do this to you, Pete? what happened to my Peter?"
He shook his head. "Is it cliche to say he wasn't some boy?" And May smiled softly.
She sighed, being slightly short but not enough for him to escape her arm being thrown over his shoulder as they made their way towards the exit of the school. "It never is just some boy with you is it? Ben always knew you were a lover." She sighed.
"Love is out of the question." He scoffed.
"It seems like you've had quite the day. What do you say to eating chinese on the couch and watching 'How It's Made'?"
Peter smiled, something going right for the day. "Sick."
"Did you just say sick? Really? Today? Here?"