Peter froze for half a second, then gave up thinking altogether.
Supporting her with one hand, he slid the other up her back and kissed her back.
Felicia gave a soft murmur as her tongue pried open his lips, pouring in a sweet, vanilla-scented breath.
“Holy shit,” Flash gasped from inside the bus.
When the kiss finally broke, both of them were breathless.
A shiny strand stretched between their lips before snapping.
Felicia’s emerald green eyes stared straight at him, her cheeks burning red like fire.
“Damn.” Peter nodded.
“Damn.” “You’re a pretty good kisser.” “Thanks for the compliment.” “Wanna try again?” “More than anything.” This time, Peter took the initiative.
One arm wrapped around her waist, while his other hand threaded through her long, silver-white hair.
Almost everyone on the bus was probably watching, but he didn’t care.
Vanilla—he loved the taste of vanilla.
The bus pulled up right outside the hospital emergency room.
Mr.
Duncan was wheeled straight into the trauma bay.
The glass shards were removed without damaging his spine, and after a dozen stitches, his life was saved.
Afterward, everyone was brought back to the school.
The entrance was packed with waiting parents.
As soon as the bus stopped, the crowd swarmed forward.
Peter was the last to get off, immediately spotting Aunt May and Uncle Ben.
“Peter!” Aunt May rushed over and threw her arms around him, her voice trembling.
“How are you?
Are you hurt?
What on earth happened?” “I’m fine, Aunt May, really.
Not a single scratch,” Peter comforted her, patting her back.
“Are you really okay?” Uncle Ben stared into his eyes.
Peter nodded.
“The whole class is safe.
Only Mr.
Duncan got hurt protecting Liz, and he’s already at the hospital.
Looks like field trips just aren’t my thing.” “Peter!
How can you joke at a time like this!” Aunt May fretted.
Uncle Ben actually smiled.
“Let him joke, May.
You know how some people process their emotions.” Aunt May sighed, saying no more.
“Let’s go home.” Peter looked up at the sky.
A streak of fire was flying toward them.
“Wait a second, Aunt May, I need to talk to someone.” “Who?” Before the words fully left her mouth, a burning human figure dropped from the sky, landing right in front of Peter.
The flames dissipated, revealing Johnny’s grinning face.
“Hey, glad to see you’re safe.” “Thanks.
How’s it going over at the expo?
High casualties?” “Not too bad.
Just one or two hurt by self-destructing drones.
Ben took the worst of the blast with his body.
Once Sue and Reed arrived, they shut down about half of the drones before they could all detonate.” Peter let out a sigh of relief.
“That’s good to hear.” Johnny looked behind him.
“And these are…” Peter turned slightly to reveal Uncle Ben and Aunt May, who were standing there completely stunned.
“Johnny, these are my Uncle Ben and Aunt May.
Aunt May, Uncle Ben, this is Johnny Storm.
The Human Torch from the Fantastic Four.
He’s my friend.” Johnny waved.
“Hey, Uncle Ben, Aunt May!
Peter talks about you guys all the time!
You’re welcome to visit the Baxter Building whenever you want!” Uncle Ben froze for a second before snapping back to reality.
“Uh…
sure, thank you.” Aunt May was rendered speechless.
Johnny turned back to Peter.
“I just wanted to make sure you were safe.
I’ve got to head back and help clean up the rubble.
Do you want to…” “I’ll come help too,” Peter blurted out.
Aunt May’s voice was gentle but firm.
“No, Peter.
That’s enough for today.
Leave the rest to the police and rescue teams.” Peter opened his mouth to argue, but catching Uncle Ben’s look, he swallowed his words.
“…Right.
Sorry.” Johnny chuckled.
“See you Monday then, Peter.
Take care.” With that, he ignited and soared into the sky, disappearing into the night like a streak of flame.
Peter sighed and turned to leave.
Just then, Aunt Anna approached with Mary Jane.
“Anna,” Aunt May squeezed out a forced smile.
“I’m so glad Mary Jane is all right.” “Yes, she’s fine.
Thanks to you taking me here, May, or I don’t know how long it would’ve taken by bus,” Aunt Anna said emotionally.
“But the one we should thank most is Peter.
He saved Mary Jane!” Aunt May and Uncle Ben looked at Peter at the same time.
“He saved all of us,” Mary Jane said softly.
“He saved the whole bus.” Peter shrugged.
“With great power comes great responsibility.” Uncle Ben was stunned.
“Peter, that’s not how I meant that line.” “No, that’s exactly what you meant, and you know it,” Peter looked Uncle Ben in the eyes.
“I just scaled the model up proportionally.” “But how did you do it?” Aunt May asked.
“He used a gun or something!” Flash yelled out from nearby.
Peter glared at him fiercely.
That blonde idiot.
“A gun?!” Uncle Ben’s voice jumped an octave.
“It wasn’t a gun.” Peter gave Flash another venomous look before pulling the EMP device out of his backpack.
“This is something I built while working.
It fires an electromagnetic pulse strong enough to fry the drones’ control systems.” “Peter, why would you build something like that?” Uncle Ben pressed.
“Simple.
Last time Stark made a public appearance, he was attacked by a lunatic with electric whips.
The time before that, it was a rogue mech suit.
Hammer Industries is the company making Rhino suits, so I figured there was an eighty percent chance something would go wrong at the expo,” Peter held up the EMP gun.
“So I prepped this beforehand.” Everyone looked at him as if he were a monster with three heads and six arms.
“How could you possibly know there’d be danger in advance?” Liz asked in disbelief.
“I work for Reed Richards, all right?” Peter scoffed.
“Did you guys really think I was just a nerd?” “I, for one, appreciate the foresight.” The voice sent a chill down Peter’s spine.
Norman Osborn stepped out from the crowd with a polite, practiced smile.
“Peter, you’ve impressed me once again.
May I take a look?” He pointed at the EMP gun.
After a moment of hesitation, Peter handed it over.
Norman turned the device over in his hands, raising an eyebrow.
“I employ some of the top scientists in the world, yet I’m not sure any of them could create something so…
efficient.
Quite remarkable, Peter.” “Th-thanks.” Peter’s throat tightened.
“Excuse me, but who are you?” Uncle Ben stepped between Peter and Norman, likely sensing the sudden tension in his nephew’s posture.
“Ah, forgive my manners.
I am Norman Osborn, Harry’s father.” He nodded toward Harry, who was standing quietly in the distance.
“Normally I don’t interfere much in my son’s school life, but…
it seems I arrived just in time.
You must be Mr.
Ben Parker?” Uncle Ben nodded.
“You’ve raised an exceptional nephew, Mr.
Parker.
I intended to offer him an internship at my company, but I gather he wouldn’t be interested, would he?” Peter gave a forced nod.
“Sorry.” “Don’t be.
How could I blame you?
It’s my fault for not realizing your talents sooner.
Counting this time, I owe you twice now—both for protecting my son,” Norman held out a business card, his smile warm and flawless.
“I don’t like owing favors.
Call me if you ever need anything.” With that, he turned and walked back to Harry.
“Harry, time to go home for dinner.” “Yes, Father.” Harry actually bowed slightly before following Norman into a black stretch limousine.
Uncle Ben cleared his throat.
“Well…
that was quite an experience.” Peter stuffed the card into his pocket, his fingertips cold.
Out of the corner of his eye, he glided his gaze toward Felicia, who was chatting with a silver-haired woman in the corner.
The woman wore a diamond necklace and an exquisite evening gown, possessing the exact same air as Felicia.
Felicia looked back at him, smiled faintly, waved goodbye, and disappeared into the crowd with the woman—likely her mother.
On the ride home, everyone remained quiet.
Uncle Ben drove faster than usual, probably wanting to put today behind them as quickly as possible.
When the car pulled into the driveway, Mary Jane looked at Peter before getting out.
Her expression was complex, one Peter couldn’t quite read.
But she said nothing, turning and heading into her own house.
Peter stood on the porch and let out a long breath.
Today had been long, very long.
But it was over, and he had survived.
From now on, probably nobody at school would call him a skinny freak anymore.
That had its pros and cons—he’d be more visible, unable to slip away quietly or do strange movements without drawing attention.
He’d have to stay on his toes at all times.
He hoped he could be both Spider-Man and Peter Parker.
Saturday.
After relentless nagging at Aunt May and Uncle Ben—and using the excuse of “disaster relief volunteer work”—Peter finally got permission to go out.
In his Spider-Man persona, he went to the ruined expo grounds.
As he swung down on a web line and landed on the site, several firefighters looked up.
A burly man trying to shift a block of concrete nodded at him.
“Need a hand, kid?” “Let me try,” Peter bent over, gripping the edges of the concrete block, and lifted the several-hundred-pound slab straight over his head with a burst of power from his back and core.
“Should be fine.” The firefighter let out a whistle.
Peter spent the rest of the morning busy at the scene.
He lifted heavy debris directly, and for things that were too hot or dangerous, he wrapped them in web fluid for insulation.
His webbing wasn’t conductive and resisted high temperatures—perfect for bundling exposed high-voltage cables and cooling reactor remnants.
Around mid-morning, the Fantastic Four arrived.
Johnny dropped down from the sky; Sue and Reed pulled up in Sue’s Land Rover; Ben walked on two legs, moving considerably slower.
They immediately joined the cleanup effort.
Sue used her force field to support collapsed steel frameworks, Reed stretched his body into ropes to tie down scattered debris, Johnny melted welded metal structures, and Ben basically used himself as a bulldozer.
Peter fell into rhythm with them naturally.
Without speaking, a single glance was enough to know where help was needed.
He climbed up into ceiling remnants to attach webs and secure loose components, while Reed stretched his body below into a bridge to catch falling rubble.
By two in the afternoon, the cleanup was still going.
Peter’s stomach rumbled like thunder, making the workers laugh.
Johnny flew over to a nearby Chinese restaurant and brought back a dozen takeout boxes.
Everyone sat together in the open space beside the rubble to eat.
Whether they were firefighters, cops, or superheroes, nobody treated anyone like an outsider.
Sitting next to the Thing and eating fried noodles—that was something Peter couldn’t have imagined in his wildest dreams before.
“So, why are you called Spider-Man?” John, the cleanup crew leader, asked while eating.
Peter thought for a second.
“Bitten by a genetically modified spider.
Got spider-like abilities—wall-crawling, web-shooting, that kind of thing.
The name was just natural.” “Can you talk to spiders?” “Nope.” “What about you?” someone asked Ben.
“What’s your name?” “Ben.” “No, I mean your superhero name.” The Thing shrugged.
“The Thing, I guess.
Johnny calls me that sometimes.” They chatted for a long time.
Peter could feel that this disaster relief effort had significantly boosted Spider-Man’s image in the public eye.
However, he had a hidden agenda of his own.
Whenever he found something useful—a piece of drone wreckage, an intact Arc Reactor, an unidentified thruster leg—he waited until no one was looking, bundled it up with reinforced webbing, and stealthily slipped it down into the sewer.
His web fluid took twenty-four hours to dissolve, giving him plenty of time to retrieve it at midnight.
Night fell, and the city lights flickered to life.
Peter waited until the dead of night to return to the expo ruins.
The site was completely deserted.
Just as he was about to climb down into the sewer to get his stash, he caught sight of a silver-haired woman standing on the opposite rooftop out of the corner of his eye.
He recognized her.
Peter swung over, landing a few paces behind her, deliberately making some noise.
Black Cat spun around sharply, only relaxing when she saw it was him.
“Spider.” “Good evening, Black Cat,” Peter leaned against an exhaust pipe and crossed his arms.
“What are you doing here?” “I was here last night,” Felicia said, her voice softer than usual, carrying a hint of vulnerability he had never seen before.
“My friend and I…
almost died here.” “I’m sorry.” “Where were you last night?” Black Cat suddenly demanded, her voice spiking.
“Aren’t you a hero?
Didn’t you keep saying you’re a hero?
I’m just a worthless thief, but you’re the big hero, right?!” Peter didn’t argue.
She was angry; he understood.
This kind of anger wasn’t meant to be argued with.
“I was helping out on the other side of the city,” he said.
“By the time I heard the news and rushed over, it was already too late.
I regret not getting here sooner.” “So you came to help clean up the ruins today out of guilt?” Black Cat’s tone remained harsh.
“Not entirely,” Peter said candidly.
“Guilt is something I can deal with.
I came because I know doing this is right.
Someone needed help, so I helped.
I don’t have some deep, profound reason for doing this—I just felt it needed to be done.” Black Cat fell silent.
Peter didn’t push.
He knew she still had more to say.
After a long pause, she spoke again.
“There was someone with me back then.” Peter’s heart skipped a beat.
Black Cat’s voice softened, as if talking to herself.
“I never thought much of him before.
He was kind of fun, but that was about it.
But that day…
he saved me.
He saved all of us.” Peter coughed lightly.
“Well…
that’s good.” “He’s the real hero.
Not you.” Peter was choked up for a second.
But under his mask, he grinned.
“Is that so?” he prompted, playing along.
“What kind of guy is he?” “Very kind.
Even though he always pretends he doesn’t care about anything, I can see right through him,” Black Cat smiled.
Peter thought to himself: *You can’t see through shit.