The walk back to Peter's house was tense and silent. MJ kept her hood pulled low, her tail wrapped tight around her waist under her jacket, trying to make herself as small as possible. Every person they passed made her flinch.
Make it obvious why don't you..
"Almost there," Peter murmured as they turned onto his street.
"Easy for you to say," MJ hissed back. "You're not the one who looks like they walked off the set of a Star Track episode."
"I mean, technically I did at one point—"
"Not helping, Peter."
They slipped through the back gate and into Peter's house through the basement entrance. Peter dashed through the dark space, grabbing a backpack and stuffing it with supplies—flash drives, a small toolkit, his laptop, and a few other items MJ couldn't identify.
"What's all that for?" she whispered.
A criminal toolkit, MJ. What do you think it is?
"Security bypass, camera loops, emergency tools." Peter zipped the bag. "Just in case."
"In case of what?"
"In case things go wrong."
"You're really not helping the whole 'this is a terrible idea' feeling I'm having."
Peter paused, then looked at her. In the dim basement light, his expression was hard to read. "We can still back out. Find another way."
MJ touched her scaled cheek, felt the roughness of it, the wrongness. "No. We do this now."
"Okay," Peter slung the backpack over his shoulder. "My car's in the garage. We'll—"
A light flicked on upstairs.
They both froze.
Anna's still up?
"Shit," Peter breathed. "That's Anna."
Light footsteps could be heard moving toward the basement door.
"What do we—"
"Go. Out the back. I'll meet you at the car."
"Peter—"
"Go!"
MJ slipped out the basement exit just as the door at the top of the stairs opened. She pressed herself against the outside wall, barely breathing, as Anna's voice filtered through:
"Peter? Is that you down there?" She sounded like she just got out of the shower.
"Yeah!" Peter called back, his voice impressively casual. "Just grabbing some stuff."
"At this hour? What stuff?"
"Uh... school stuff. For a project."
School project really. God kill me now… Peter resisted the urge to slap his face.
There was a pause. MJ could practically hear Anna's skeptical expression.
"A school project. At one in the morning."
"Its due tomorrow. I forgot about it."
Another pause. Longer this time.
"Peter, is someone with you?"
MJ's heart lurched.
"What? No. Why would—"
"I heard voices. And I could've sworn I saw MJ outside earlier."
Peter laughed—too high, too forced. "MJ? No, that's—I was just on the phone with her. About the project. Group project. You know how it is."
MJ heard the stairs creak as Anna descended a few steps.
"Really gotta work on your bullshitting skills, Pete."
"How would you even know?"
"Your voice goes up half an octave when you lie. It always has."
A believable lie is better. My verbal ticks there so when I actually lie you won't tell the difference Anna… Peter rolled his eyes and let out a groaned then he pulled out the most random teenage excuse he could think of. "Okay, fine. Yes. MJ's here. We're going to a party."
"A party?"
"Yes. A party. That's why—"
The back door suddenly opened, and MJ nearly jumped out of her scaled skin as Anna appeared, a wet towel coiled around her head, she squinted into the darkness.
"MJ? Is that you?"
MJ kept her face angled away, hood pulled low. She shot Peter a glare. "Way to go, Pete. Can't even lie to save your life."
"What are you two—" Anna stopped, tilting her head. "Your voice sounds funny. Are you sick?"
"Uh," MJ coughed. "Yeah. little. Sore throat."
"And you're going to a party while sick?"
"It's not that bad," MJ said quickly. "Just a tickle. Nothing serious."
Anna crossed her arms, looking between them. Peter had emerged from the basement, backpack slung over one shoulder, looking like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"A party," Anna repeated slowly. "At one in the morning. With a sore throat. And a school project."
"The project's separate," Peter said.
"We're doing that tomorrow," MJ added.
"After the party," Peter clarified.
"Which is tonight," MJ finished.
They both winced at how unconvincing they sounded.
Anna stared at them for a long moment. Then, to MJ's shock, she started laughing.
"Oh my god," Anna wheezed. "Looks like Pete isn't the only one that needs improvement. 'The project's separate.' 'After the party.' What are you guys? Twelve?."
"We're not—" Peter started.
"We just—" MJ tried.
They turned to each with heated stares. 'Shut up,' MJ mouthed, and Peter shot back a 'You shut up'.
"Stop," Anna held up a hand, still grinning. "Look, I don't know what you're really up to, and honestly? I probably don't want to know. You're teenagers. Sneaking out in the middle of the night is basically required at your age."
"Wait, you're... okay with this?" MJ blinked, forgetting for a moment why Peter and she were here.
"With you, unless you're eighteen, not on your life."
"Tsk… knew it." MJ snickered.
Peter shot her a look that practically screamed, 'Really? Now!?' in the dark.
"But I trust Peter." Anna's smile softened. " Mostly. Just..." She looked at MJ, concern creeping into her expression. "Be careful, okay? Both of you. And Peter? Have her home by sunrise."
"I will," Peter blurted. "Promise."
Anna nodded, then turned back toward the house. At the door, she paused.
"And MJ? Drink some tea with honey when you get home. That'll help your throat."
"Thanks, Anna."
The door closed.
MJ and Peter stood in stunned silence for a moment.
"That went... better than expected," MJ said finally.
"Way better." Peter pulled out his car keys. "Come on. Before she changes her mind."
They hurried to the garage, where Peter's beat-up yellow sedan waited. MJ climbed into the passenger seat, finally allowing herself to relax slightly in the darkness.
Peter started the engine, and they pulled out onto the empty street.
"So," MJ said as they drove. "Can't believe my aunt trusts you more than me. She definitely knows we're lying."
"Oh, yeah."
"But she let us go, anyway."
"Yep."
"That's... surprisingly cool of her."
"Better this way." Peter's grip tightened on the steering wheel. "Which makes me feel even worse about lying to her."
MJ looked at him. In the dashboard light, his expression was tense, guilt written across his features. "You're surprisingly a really good liar, huh?"
"Takes one to know one," Peter snickered. MJ thoughtfully watches him start the car.
"When this is over," MJ said quietly, "we're gonna have a long talk about everything."
Peter threw her a glance but didn't respond. You wouldn't believe me if I told you…
They drove toward Oscorp Tower, the Manhattan skyline glittering ahead of them like a promise—or a threat.
***
The alley behind Oscorp Tower smelled like garbage and rain. Peter pulled the sedan into a narrow space between a dumpster and a loading dock, killing the engine.
"This is it," he said, staring up at the tower looming above them. "Last chance to back out. You could still wait in the car."
MJ touched her face again—still scaled, still wrong. "Not backing out."
"Okay." Peter grabbed his backpack. "Then here's how this works. There's an emergency exit on the east side. Fire code requires it to be accessible from outside, but it's alarmed. I can bypass it, but we'll have maybe thirty seconds before the system resets and flags the anomaly."
"How do you know all this?"
"I... have my reasons. Had to case the building a few times while interning inside."
MJ stared at him. "You cased Oscorp Tower. You, Peter Parker, honor student and world's biggest rule-follower, cased a building."
"It was for research," Peter muttered. You have no idea…
"Uh-huh. Research. For what?"
"Does it matter?"
"Kinda, yeah! You're acting like a professional thief!"
"I'm not—" Peter stopped, jaw tightening. "Look, for the serum, before I became that thing... I needed resources. Equipment. Information. Oscorp has all of that. Working there helped,, but I needed more than what I could legally use. So yes, I learned the security patterns. The guard rotations. The camera blind spots. I learned how to get in and out without being seen because I didn't have a choice."
The bitterness in his voice made MJ pause.
"Peter—"
"Thirty seconds." Peter pulled a small device from his backpack. "That's all we get. Stay close and follow my lead."
He moved toward the emergency exit before she could respond.
The door was solid steel, marked with faded warning signs. Peter attached his device to the lock mechanism, fingers flying over a small screen. Numbers scrolled past, and then—
Click.
"Go," Peter hissed, pulling the door open.
They slipped inside, and Peter immediately pulled MJ to the left, pressing them both flat against the wall.
"Camera," he whispered, pointing to a small black dome in the ceiling. "Sweeps every fifteen seconds. When it pans right, we move."
"How do you—"
"Watch."
MJ watched. The camera rotated slowly, panning across the corridor. The moment it turned away from their position, Peter grabbed her hand and pulled her forward, moving in quick, silent steps to the next blind spot—a recessed doorway.
They pressed into it just as the camera swung back.
"This is insane," MJ breathed.
"It gets easier." Peter was already scanning ahead. "Next blind spot is by that junction box. Then we hit the guard terminal on the second floor. That's where we loop the cameras."
"And the guards?"
"Shift change just happened. Most of them are in the break room for the next ten minutes. We just have to avoid the two doing rounds."
MJ shook her head. "You really did do some questionable things in this place, huh?"
"Told you. Research." Peter's expression was unreadable. "Ready?"
"No. But let's go anyway."
They moved through the building like ghosts, Peter guiding them from blind spot to blind spot with uncanny precision. Twice they had to freeze as guards passed nearby, and MJ's enhanced hearing picked up their conversations—mundane complaints about coffee and overtime.
"You're weirdly good at this," MJ whispered as they crept up a stairwell.
"Is that a compliment?"
"More like an observation. A slightly concerning observation."
"Yeah, well." Peter's voice was flat. "You learn fast when your life depends on it."
The guilt hit MJ like a physical blow. She had forgotten for a moment that Peter probably went through everything she was going through. Here she was, making snide comments, while Peter had been living with this—with whatever had happened to him—alone. At least he was here to help her navigate this messed up situation.
He probably had no one.
"You—"
"Guard terminal," Peter interrupted, pointing. "Right there. I need ninety seconds."
They approached a small desk tucked into an alcove, a computer monitor glowing softly in the darkness. Peter pulled out a flash drive and plugged it in, his fingers flying across the keyboard.
"What's that do?" MJ asked, watching code scroll across the screen.
"Creates a loop in the security feed. Last thirty minutes repeated. Anyone watching the monitors won't see us."
"That's actually pretty smart."
"Thanks. I think."
"Though still very illegal."
"We can debate the ethics later." Peter's eyes stayed fixed on the screen. "Almost done. Just need to—"
Footsteps. Close. Getting closer.
"Shit," Peter breathed. "Guard. Early."
"What do we—"
MJ didn't let him finish. She grabbed Peter by the arm, yanked him away from the terminal, and shoved them both into a narrow janitor's closet tucked against the wall.
The door clicked shut just as the guard rounded the corner.
In the pitch darkness of the closet, MJ became acutely aware of several things:
One: The space was tiny. Barely big enough for cleaning supplies, let alone two people.
Two: Her transformed body—taller, broader—pressed against Peter from shoulder to hip, leaving exactly zero personal space.
Three: Peter had apparently been hitting the gym too. Or doing a lot of pullups. Or something. Because he was firm. Solid. Not the scrawny kid she remembered from freshman year.
"Damn," she whispered before she could stop herself.
"What?"
"Nothing. Ignore me."
"We're kind of trapped in a closet right now, MJ. Hard to ignore."
"I said ignore it."
"Why are you—"
"Shh!" MJ pressed a hand over his mouth, her enhanced hearing picking up the guard's footsteps.
Peter made a muffled sound of protest.
They stood frozen, barely breathing, as the footsteps approached. Stopped. Right outside the door.
MJ's heart hammered. Her thermal vision activated without conscious thought—a side effect of the serum she hadn't known she had—and suddenly she could see through the door. The guard's heat signature stood mere feet away, a bright orange-red silhouette against the cooler background.
The guard pulled out a radio.
"Station Two, checking in. Second floor clear."
Please move. Please move. Please—
"Copy that, Station Two. Continue patrol."
The guard clipped the radio back to his belt and walked away.
MJ counted to thirty before relaxing.
"He's gone," she whispered, pulling her hand away from Peter's mouth.
"How do you know?"
"Thermal vision. I could see him through the door."
"That's... pretty cool."
"Yeah, well, finding silver linings in my lizard transformation wasn't high on my priority list, but here we are."
They carefully extracted themselves from the closet. Peter immediately returned to the terminal, checking his work.
"Loop's active," he confirmed. "We're good for the next two hours."
"Great. Can we please get to the lab before I die of stress?"
"Almost there. We just need to..." Peter trailed off, frowning at something. "Wait here."
He disappeared around a corner before MJ could protest. She pressed herself against the wall, hyper-aware of every sound, every movement.
Peter returned a moment later carrying two pale blue janitor uniforms and two cleaning masks.
"Disguises," he explained. "Security sees these uniforms and basically looks right through them."
"That's actually kind of genius."
"Necessity," Peter repeated. "Come on. Lab's on seventeen."
They pulled the uniforms on over their clothes. Peter's fit reasonably well. MJ's... didn't.
"I look ridiculous," she muttered, staring at how the uniform stretched across her scaled, altered form.
"You look like a janitor with a posture problem. Keep your hood up, stay hunched, and no one will look twice."
"Easy for you to say."
"Trust me."
MJ sighed but followed as Peter led them to the emergency stairwell. He navigated this place as if he'd been through this a lot, and given what she knew now, he probably did.
"Seventeen floors?" she groaned. "You're kidding."
"Elevator would be faster, but there are cameras inside that are connected to a different server room. The loop won't help us."
"Of course, why not?" MJ looked up the stairwell, then at Peter, then got an idea. "Actually... hang on."
Before Peter could ask what she meant, MJ grabbed him—one arm around his waist, the other supporting his legs—and lifted him like he weighed nothing.
"What are you—"
"Enhanced strength, remember?" MJ grinned—the first genuine smile since her transformation. "Might as well use it."
And then she ran.
Up the stairs, taking them three at a time, her transformed body moving with impossible speed and grace. Peter made a strangled sound of surprise but had the sense not to shout.
Twelve floors passed in a blur. Then fifteen. Sixteen.
MJ skidded to a stop at the seventeenth-floor landing, barely winded, and set Peter down.
"There," she said, slightly smug. "Told you enhanced strength was useful."
Peter stared at her, wide-eyed. "That was..."
"Terrifying?"
"I was going to say 'amazing'. Your control is impeccable."
"I could get used to this." MJ straightened her janitor uniform. "Now where's this lab?"
***
The seventeenth floor was dim and quiet, most of the offices dark. Peter led them down a hallway lined with frosted glass doors, each labeled with department names and numbers.
"There," he whispered, pointing to a door marked BIO-RESEARCH LAB 7.
He pulled out his phone, tapping in the access codes Harry had sent. The door lock beeped softly, and then—click.
They slipped inside.
The lab was state-of-the-art—gleaming equipment, pristine workstations, and enough computing power to make Peter's basement setup look like a child's toy. Moonlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting everything in silver and shadow.
"Okay," Peter said, setting his backpack down. "First things first—I need a blood sample."
MJ held out her arm without hesitation. "How much?"
"Not much. Just enough to isolate the antibodies." Peter pulled out a vial and a needle from a cabinet. "This might sting."
"I've got claws and a tail, Peter. I think I can handle a needle."
He drew the blood quickly, professionally, then moved to one of the workstations. His fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up programs and interfaces that MJ didn't even try to understand.
"How long will this take?" She asked, watching him work.
"Depends. If the synthesis goes smoothly, maybe ninety minutes. If there are complications..." He didn't finish the sentence.
"Optimism, Peter. Try it sometime."
"I'm being realistic."
"You're being pessimistic."
"There's a difference?"
"Yes!"
Peter actually smiled—small, but there—as he loaded her blood sample into an analysis machine. The device hummed to life, and lines of data began scrolling across the screen.
"Okay," he murmured, leaning closer. "Let's see what we're working with..."
MJ wandered the lab while he worked, examining the equipment, the charts on the walls, the locked cabinets. Her enhanced senses picked up things she'd never noticed before—the faint chemical smell of cleaning solutions, the almost imperceptible hum of electronics, the slight temperature difference between the shadowed corners and the moonlit spaces.
"This is so weird," she said aloud.
"What is?"
"Everything. I can hear the building settling. Smell the coffee someone spilled on the floor three offices down. See the heat signatures of the lights even though they're off." She touched her neck, feeling the scales. "It's like the world turned the volume up on everything."
Peter glanced at her, something unreadable in his expression. "Yeah. It's overwhelming at first. But you adapt."
"How long did it take you?"
"To adapt?" Peter turned back to his screen. "I'm still working on it."
Before MJ could respond, movement outside the window caught her eye.
"Peter."
"Almost done with the first sequence—"
"Peter."
The urgency in her voice made him look up.
A security guard was walking past the lab, flashlight in hand, checking doors.
"Get down!" MJ hissed.
They dropped, pressing themselves flat against the floor behind a workstation. The guard's flashlight beam swept across the room, passing over them, illuminating the equipment but missing them in the shadows.
MJ held her breath.
The guard paused at the door. Tried the handle.
Locked.
After a moment, the guard moved on.
They stayed frozen for a full minute before carefully standing.
"That was close," Peter breathed.
"Too close." MJ's heart was racing. "How much longer?"
"Ten minutes for the synthesis. Then another five to load it into a delivery system."
"So, fifteen minutes total."
"Give or take."
MJ looked at the windows—floor to ceiling, offering a perfect view of the city but also making them visible to anyone outside. "Can they see us from out there?"
"Not with the lights off. And I have the window tint set to maximum opacity." Peter returned to his work, hands steady despite the close call. "We're good. Probably."
"'Probably' is not reassuring."
"Best I can offer right now."
The machines hummed. Data processed. Time crawled.
"So, how did the whole serum thing really happen?" MJ asked Peter curiously.
Peter paused. Then went back to fiddling with the equipment as he spoke.
"I made it."
MJ turned to him, her green eyes widened in shock. She was speechless. She had a few ideas but none came close to Peter being the mastermind behind the serum.
"Wanted to be some kind of superhero, I got super alright. The hero part well, you should have a fair idea of what happened from the news. You're lucky you retained your rationality, you're higher brain functions still work and you're still in control."
Peter picked up a few vials and moved to a different machine. MJ watched him quietly, letting him continue without interrupting.
"My mutation was so much worse, my lizard brain got the driver's seat. It was kill or be killed for me, I was a prisoner in my own body. No control. Just pure ravenous hunger and too much pain in a fucked up mutated body. By the time I regained control, it was too late. The night after that I met you and Gwen at the hospital, that was when…"
"Oh… shit, Pete—"
Peter cut her off. "Look, I need to focus on this?"
"Right… sorry." MJ stood silent after that, her gaze would cautiously flicker to his back then away from him.
After a while, the silence began to feel overwhelming, even for her.
MJ paced, her tail swishing behind her in agitation. Every sound made her jump. Every shadow seemed to move.
And then—
"Got it," Peter said suddenly. "The synthesis is complete. I just need to load it into a delivery system..."
He moved to another workstation, pulling out what looked like a small gun—the kind used for vaccinations—and carefully loaded a cartridge into it.
"This is it," he said, turning to her. "The stabilizer. It won't reverse the transformation, but it should give you control. Let you shift back to human form at will."
MJ stared at the device in his hands. It looked so small. So insignificant.
Her entire future rested on that tiny cartridge.
"You're sure it'll work?" she asked quietly.
Peter hesitated. "Ninety percent sure."
"And the other ten percent?"
"Best not to think about it."
"Peter—"
"It'll work, MJ." His eyes met hers, serious and certain. "I promise."
She wanted to believe him. Wanted to trust that this nightmare would end, that she'd wake up tomorrow looking like herself again.
But trust was a fragile thing right now.
Still, what choice did she have?
"Okay," she said, holding out her arm. "Do it."
Peter moved closer, positioning the injector against her bicep.
"On three," he said. "One—"
"Wait!" MJ grabbed his wrist. "What happens if this goes wrong? What if I—I don't know—explode or something?"
"You're not going to explode."
"You don't know that!"
"MJ—"
"I'm serious! What if this makes it worse? What if I turn into something even more—"
"MJ." Peter's free hand gripped her shoulder. "Look at me."
She did.
"I would not do this if I thought it would hurt you," he said quietly. "I made mistakes before. I rushed. I didn't think things through. But this?" He gestured to the injector. "This I'm sure about. Your blood contains the stabilizing factor. All I'm doing is introducing a concentrated version back into your system. It's going to work."
MJ searched his face, looking for doubt. Found only conviction.
"Okay," she whispered. "Okay. Do it."
"On three. For real this time. One. Two—"
"Oh, just do it already!"
Peter pressed the trigger.
Hiss.
The stabilizer entered her system.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—
"Oh god," MJ gasped.
Her body convulsed. Not painfully, but intensely—like every nerve ending fired at once. She stumbled, and Peter caught her, his arms steadying her as the transformation began to reverse.
The scales receded. Her height decreased. The tail retracted into her spine with a sensation that made her want to scream and laugh simultaneously. Her hair shifted from fiery red back to its natural auburn. Her eyes—she could feel them changing, the vertical pupils rounding back to human.
And then it was over.
MJ looked down at her hands—normal hands, no claws, no scales—and let out a shaky laugh that turned into a sob.
"It worked," she breathed. "It actually worked. Peter, it—"
She threw her arms around him, hugging him fiercely.
"Ow—MJ—ow—"
"Sorry!" She pulled back immediately. "Sorry, I forgot about the—"
"Enhanced strength," Peter wheezed, rubbing his ribs. "Still have it, apparently."
"Sorry," she said again, but she was grinning. Grinning and crying and feeling more like herself than she had in hours.
Peter smiled back—genuine and warm and slightly pained. "You're welcome."
His phone buzzed.
They both froze.
Peter pulled it out, looked at the screen, and cursed.
"What?"
"The camera loop. It's ending in five minutes."
"Five—that's not enough time to—"
"We have to go. Now."
They stripped off the janitor uniforms, stuffed them back in the closet where Peter had found them, and ran for the door.
***
Leaving was easier than entering.
The guard rotations had shifted again, and the cameras were still on their loop—for now. Peter led them back through the building, moving fast but not so fast as to attract attention.
They made it to the stairwell. Down seventeen flights. Through the emergency exit.
Into the alley.
Peter's hands shook slightly as he pulled the flash drive from the guard terminal they'd passed on the way out. He pocketed it, then grabbed MJ's hand.
"Car. Now."
They ran.
The yellow sedan was exactly where they'd left it, untouched and unremarkable. Peter fumbled with his keys, finally got the door open, and they both collapsed into their seats.
For a long moment, they just sat there, breathing hard, staring at the dashboard.
Then MJ started laughing.
"We did it," she said between giggles. "Holy shit, Peter, we actually did it. We broke into Oscorp Tower and got away with it!"
"Don't remind me," Peter muttered, but he was smiling too. "I'm pretty sure I just committed about fifteen different felonies."
"At least fifteen." MJ wiped her eyes, the laughter fading into something softer. "But... thank you. Seriously. Thank you."
"You're welcome."
"I mean it. You didn't have to help me. You could've just... I don't know. Let me figure it out on my own. But you didn't."
"Of course I didn't." Peter started the car. "Didn't really have a choice MJ. I wasn't going to let you go through this alone and besides, this was technically my fault to begin with too."
"True," MJ chuckled. "When you put it like that, it is your fault. But then again, I should have just left the freaky green glowing syringe in your room alone."
" Touché,"
The word hung in the air between them.
They drove in silence for a while, the city lights blurring past the windows. MJ watched them, her mind still processing everything—the transformation, the break-in, the fact that she could apparently turn into a lizard person at will now.
"So," she said eventually. "I have to live like this now."
"Yeah."
"Transform back and forth. Keep it secret. Hope no one ever finds out."
"Yeah."
"That's... going to suck."
Peter's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "You get used to it."
MJ turned to look at him—really look at him. At the tension in his shoulders. The careful blankness in his expression. The weight he carried that she'd been too blind to see before.
"Did you?" she asked quietly. "Get used to it?"
Peter didn't answer for a long time.
"I'm trying."
When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, as if he was stating a fact but MJ acute vision and hearing was able to pick up too many things about him the .His posture, micro expressions, heart beat and even the slight quiver in his voice.
Peter looked troubled, like he was wrestling with something with in himself the he didn't want anyone else to know. He wasn't lying out right but he wasn't being entirely honest either.
MJ wanted to say something—anything—that would help. That would ease the guilt and pain radiating off him. But what could she say? What words existed for this kind of situation? What did she know about what he had been through?
"I guess it can't be that bad right," MJ forced a chuckle. "Always wondered what it would be like to bench press a car."
In the end, she had to stop herself from reaching over and squeezing his hand. MJ clenched and unclenched her fist, flexing it lightly and marveled at the sharp reptilian claws and scales that appeared and disappeared at he command.
MJ watched as Peter chuckled under his breath and replied to her comment with a sarcastic comment of his own. He threw a glance at her hands and rumbled on about something she couldn't understand, finding some semblance in the fact that the more he spoke the more his expression returned to the nerd she was familiar with.
Whatever Peter had been through had changed him beyond recognition. The Peter she knew was a bumbling, sarcastic nerd, cute and awkward, and kept his emotions and problems under a tight lid, cemented under a dorky facade.
The Peter she saw tonight was another person entirely. He was cynical and sarcastic, had a dark sense of humor, was resourceful beyond belief, and had skills and knowledge no sixteen—year—old had any right to know. He was strong too, unnaturally so.
She watched him discreetly. He had so many secrets. What kind of life had he lived until now? Why didn't anyone notice? What did he do in his free time? What was in the basement and why did he spend so much time down there?
And.. Who the hell he really was under all that. The plain boy from Queens she called Peter Parker had become far more mysterious than she had ever thought possible right under her nose.
She felt that Peter was comparable to a familiar river that she would occasionally pass by, a river that she had only assumed was ankle deep and if she stepped inside, it wouldn't pass her knees but when she finally decided to take a step inside, it was deep enough to drown her, so much so that she wasn't even sure how deep it really was or if she'd ever reach the surface when she eventually reached the bottom.
"Hey, Pete," MJ turned her gaze back to her palms and curled her fingers into a fist. She began softly. "Thanks."
Peter hummed in reply. "Don't mention it…"
Peter turned to her sharply, "Really, don't mention this, ever. After tonight, nothing changes, I'll help you control your new abilities, but you can't mention this to anyone."
"I know."
They drove home in silence, one, a teenager with too many secrets, and another with new powers, heading into an uncertain dawn.
Behind them, Oscorp Tower stood silent against the sky, its security feeds none the wiser.
The flash drive in Peter's pocket held the only evidence they'd ever been there.
And in the backseat, unnoticed by either of them, a small black kitten curled up on Peter's backpack, having stowed away once again.
The night was finally over.
But the consequences of his actions were only just beginning to emerge.
Chapter End