Chapter Text
Peter was a normal kid. He went to school, got okay grades, got bullied a bit, tried fighting back sometimes, and got bullied a bit harder. He was normal. Not too much of a loser. Not something amazing, or spectacular. Just normal.
He wouldn’t know what to do if he suddenly got the strength of Superman, or if everything in his life burned down and he was left begging for coins on the street. He was normal. He was supposed to be normal, forever. Life was stable like that. It was easy like that.
One day he would get a well-paying job as a chemist, or an engineer, or architect, or some other science-related occupation. He would be married to a nice girl whose name rhymed with “shmary shane” (if he ever grew the balls) have a kid or two and die peacefully.
He wanted to be normal, because deep down, he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle being anything but. So one day, when he woke up with abs and wrists that shot out fucking webs, he ignored it.
He should have listened to that scientist, Ottoman, whatever his name was. Or that sign with the big nuclear caution symbol on it. Or the feather-light tapping on his arm before he realized a spider was crawling on him.
“Once again, everyone, do not even approach the vicinity of the Radiation Wing. Why It’s a miracle we’re even allowed student tours right now with what's happened in there.”
Peter’s eyes roamed the massive hall he was in. If he looked out the window right now, he’s sure he would puke, he’d never been good with heights, and the only reason he’d mustered the courage to come up here was Ben reminding him this was his future.
Instead of looking at the massive window to his left, he looked past the crowd of students to his right at the dozens of doors lining the wall. Each one was labeled with some scientific jargon, though one was marked with caution tape, and was unlit inside. “Genetics and Radiation Testing.”
The scientist continued down the hall, taking the rest of his chemistry classroom with him. But Peter stayed. Looking back on it, it was probably the biggest mistake of his life. The moment he decided to stay was probably the moment he truly died.
Approaching the door to the sealed -off room, he grabbed the handle. It was unlocked.
He entered, for no real reason. Maybe it was some part of him that didn’t want to just be normal, maybe he decided he should do it just because he could, and if he could, why shouldn't he? Or maybe it was just some horrible luck that pushed him to open that door. Maybe god was just unhappy with him and wanted his life to be miserable.
But he opened that door and found… Nothing.
In the darkness of the room, the only thing he could make out were glass boxes lining the walls. All empty, all sealed shut. Except for one. It was empty, but it was shattered, like something had escaped from it.
Peter stalked closer. And closer. There was a tingling sensation on his arm. This was the worst case of goosebumps he’d ever gotten. God, was he so lame that this was the most exciting thing he had ever done? MJ would never-
“Gah!” He yelped, slamming his arm against a wall as he felt a sharp pain. On his hand. Something scurried across the floor, and his skull tingled, before he squashed it under his shoe. “Oh shit. Oh god- Oh god.”
He brought his hand up to his face, easily identifying two small red dots just above his wrist. “Noooooo… I’m so boned.” He poked his head back into the hallway, and seeing nobody, scurried out of the room. He speedwalked way faster than he’d ever speedwalked before, hand stuffed into his pocket until he reached the glass doors he entered the building from.
Once he reached the outside world, he took in a deep breath of the slightly trashy New York air before breaking into a sprint back home.
He told Uncle Ben he’d gotten some food poisoning, and the old man either believed him or just let the lie go.
The next morning, he’d woken up to a destroyed alarm clock and some weird white shit on his wall.
When he went to put on a shirt, he gasped. He had abs, and a defined chest, and biceps that actually had a peak to them. And he didn’t need his glasses on to see that!
He slid his shirt on. And was quiet as he rode the bus to school.
Flash didn’t bother him today. He wasn’t the worst guy ever, didn’t ever really hurt anyone or say something too bad, but he was still what you’d imagine when you heard the word bully.
Peter made it through all his classes, managing to avoid Harry talking to him, which he felt a little bad about but he was pretty sure he was still in shock from the new abs.
But by the end of the day, he actually felt a little bit better. Pretty good actually. He had abs! He had nice biceps! He wasnt really big or anything like Flash, but he had abs! That was cool right?
So when he spotted Flash and one of his buddies tossing some other kids backpacks between them, he did something that wasnt normal for the second time in his life. After all, the last time he had done it he got abs!
Honestly, Peter wasnt thinking about the kid Flash was messing with at all, he just wanted To get back at Flash.
“Hey Flash!”
The blonde turned his head to Peter, cracking a cocky grin as he spotted him. “What’s up Penis Dorker!”
He stalked toward Flash with confidence he’d never felt before, knees bent just a little bit, whole body coiled and tensed in a way that made him feel… powerful. “Give Jack his bag back man.” He glared up at Flash.
Flash looked confused, then his lips curved into an incredulous smile. “Damn Dorker! Did you grow a pair overnight or somethin’?” He began to chuckle, before it grew into a guffaw.
Flash looked behind him at his friend, just for a second, and in that second, Peter’s fist flew out in a clumsy punch. Despite his fist barely connecting with Flash’s jaw, despite the fact that Peter had no idea how to throw a punch and despite the fact that Peter was just some normal, scrawny, totally normal kid, Flash stumbled backward onto his ass
“The hell!” In genuine shock, he looked up, only to find Peter gone.
Peter was ecstatic. He was cool! He was actually cool for once in his life! The second he realized his punch could actually hurt someone, he ran faster than he ever had to an abandoned construction site. And he didn’t even break a sweat!
“Hiya!” He screamed, completely over the top as he slammed his fist into a wooden board, embarrassed for a second before realizing he had completely destroyed a 2x4.
He kicked a crane hard enough to dent the metal, bent rusty pipes with ease, and smashed through concrete pillars, all with a stupid smile and little thoughts in his head.
“I’ve got super power.” He whispered to himself. “Like- Like fucking Wonder Woman! Like Superman!” Flinging his arms around in childlike glee, he incredulously laughed as a white string shot out of his wrist.
It was dark now, and Peter still wasn’t tired. Aunt May had texted him, asking him to grab some cough medicine for her cold. So now he was walking around during nighttime during New York’s fall, and feeling no cold at all. The only thoughts in his head were that of superheroes. He had superpowers now, couldn’t he be one too? That would be so cool!
There was a bell jingling as he walked into a convenience store. What even were his powers? Super strength and that weird white stuff? What even was that?
He didn’t notice the guy behind him fiddling with something tucked into his waistband. He was gonna be so cool! Everyone would like him now! What would his name be? It had to be something incredible, something fantastic!
He slid the small pink bottle to the cashier. Web Man! The Man Spider! Super Spider!
“$5.67.”
Super Strong Man! Weaver Man! Super Man! Probably not that-
“Hey. Kid.” He was snapped out of his thoughts by he bored looking cashier. “$5.67.”
“S-Sorry.” He pulled all the cash he had from his pockets, counting the coins. “Here.”
The cashier swiped the coins out his hand. “Nope. Thats $5.58.” The cashier made a shooing motion.
“Come one man. ‘S for my Aunt.”
“Guess what? Not my problem . The bottle’s $5.67. Now get lost .”
A scowl on his face, Peter slammed his hand into the donation box a bit harder than necessary. He slapped two nickels onto the counter, saying, “There. And you can keep the change.”
“Get out of the damn store kid. Got more customers than you.”
Scoffing, Peter thought about socking the man in the face. If just grazing Flash could send him stumbling a few feet, what could a real punch do? What would this weak-
The expression on his face turned sour. And he quickly snatched his money off the counter and stood outside the door, flipping open his phone to tell Aunt May he couldn’t get the medicine.
Was he really thinking about that? Was that the kind of person he turned into with just a little bit of power? What kind of person was he?
There was some noise inside the store, but Peter didn’t care, glaring at his phone as he fixed a typo. The door behind him burst open, bell jingling as someone came running out.
“Stop- fuck- Stop that guy!” He finally glanced back as he heard the cashierf yelling, just in time to catch a pink bottle tossed at him.
The guy who had been behind him in line lifted his chin in a nod to him, gun still in hand as he dashed down the street.
“Kid! Stop that sunova bitch!” The cashier finally appeared in the doorway, panting just from that short run.
He probably could, Peter realized. He had superpowers now, he could beat that dude up easily, or shoot that web thing at him. But then he looked down at the pink bottle in his hand. That guy helped Aunt May.
“Guess what?” He asked the cashier, a small smirk even blossoming on his face, “ Not my problem. ”
He ignored the yelling of the cashier, setting off in the same direction the robber had. Not to stop him, it was just the way to his apartment building.
Bang!
That had came from just around the corner. Where he had seen the robber run off to.
Pushing through a small crowd, his heart dropped.
Uncle Ben.
He waved off a guy holding him back hard enough to send him stumbling and tripping, falling to his knees next to his uncle.
He sat there, not sure if he was even breathing, before finally saying something. “Uncle Ben?”
His uncle looked up at him, taking shallow breaths. He lifted his hand off his chest, and Peter’s breath grew equally shallow.
Blood . So much blood. All over his chest.
“Uncle Ben!” Peter screamed this time, voice cracking. “No! No! No!”
He felt something slippery cover his hand, and realized it was Ben’s own hand. Completely soaked in his own blood. “Peter.” He said, gently as he always did, as if nothing was even happening. “Peter did I stop him? Did I get that crook?”
That? That’s all he cared about. No he hadn’t stopped the robber! The robber was long gone and his uncle had a bullet in his chest because the robber had a godamn gun and Ben was just some stupid weak old man!
Peter wanted to yell all this at his uncle. Tell him how stupid he was. But Ben’s blood was pooling on the concrete under him, and Peter could feel it on his knees.“You… You tried to stop him?” He whispered, clutching Ben’s hand like a lifeline.
The old man chuckled, blood leaking from the corners of his mouth. “Of course I did Peter. I couldn’t just not.” He said it like it was the most common sense thing in the world. Like he was saying the sky was blue, like the sun was hot, like that blood pouring out of your chest meant you were dying.
Peter’s eyes were locked onto the red spreading across the concrete. “Yeah, Uncle Ben. Yeah. You stopped him.” He lied, smiling at the stupid old man.
His uncle smiled back at him. A weak, wrinkly, bloody smile. “Good. Remember Peter. If you can help someone. Do it.” He choked on his own blood as he tried to suck in some air. “With great power… comes great,” he coughed, shooting out blood, “respon… sibility.”
When Ben Parker died, Peter didn’t scream, or swear revenge, or yell out curses to God. He sobbed. He sobbed and wept like a little baby.