Peter?

Socializing 2 : Night

Hey folks! This is still my book, and since Peter doesn't know about this part I'll be the only one writing this again. I'm going to try to be more consistent, or at least more frequent with my updates, so for whoever is following this for whatever reason I

"Aha!" Pip exclaimed,  " I knew you were hiding something from me. That still doesn't explain why I can't read you though, or why you keel over when I try to."

"Hush Peter," Loki shushed the confused boy. "Not to play professor, but Pip, I'm pretty sure you know Peter and I are jotunn, which means we have some invulnerability to most forms of what most people consider magic. That seems to include your particular mutation, although the whole keeling over thing is something I've never heard of."

"I might be able to explain that," Peter smiled awkwardly. "I have this thing, my 'spider sense', it more or less tells me whether or not I'm about to get hurt. You trying to get into my head and find out things about me that I might not want anyone to know. I don't - I can't - don't - don't do that to me anymore, just ask me. I'm sorry, I just haven't been feeling all that here recently."

At that moment after I had climbed five stories up to the window, and tapped with one finger. Now I know I was supposed to be somewhere in Professor Xavier's mansion, cleaning my room or something, but I was never all that good at cleaning my room. I felt bad for leaving my charge vulnerable, even if he was literally the amazing Spider-Man.

"Gods of Asgard Mr Wilson!" Peter yelled. "Why are you out there! I'm coming to get you." Peter pulled on his mask from his back pocket, and climbed on to the balcony as close to me as he could. He stepped out onto the side of the building so he was horizontal, and slowly ambled towards me. Peter kneeled down, and put his hands to the wall where he urged me to hold on to his body as he side shuffled back to the balcony.

When we got to the balcony Peter told me, "look into my eyes and explain what in the nine realms you were doing!"

"I duct taped my swords to my hands and feet, and just sort of shimmied up here," I explained.

"Mmmmhhh, why! Just why! You could have died Mr Wilson, healing factor or not! You are crazy!"

"Crazy, is my middle name."

"Gods of Asgard Mr Wilson, you are the stupidest person to work for a school yet."

"Calm down Peter, there's fur sprouting on your hands. And you can just call me Wade, Mr Wilson was my dad... probably."

Peter looked down at his hands and realized I was right, as deep brown covered his arms up to his shoulders. It was soft, and Peter recognized it as dog fur before he panicked and scrambled  off to his bedroom. He hid in one of the only places he felt safe in the building, and the world, the comfort closet in his bedroom. Stumbling into his room, he picked up the dresser and threw it aside with no regard for anything around him. Only the stuffed lamb his biological father had given him the day he was out of his biological mother's womb could console him. He cried for his parents, he cried for uncle Ben, he cried for aunt May, he cried for Tony, he cried for Ned, and he cried for MJ.

For as much as I want to say that I ran into Peter's closet, grabbed him in my arms, and we kissed on the rooftop watching the sunset, that didn't happen. I jumped right back off the balcony and free-ran across New York to my house while he cried. As he sat there clutching his stuffed lamb toy, Peter began to do what he thought he'd never do again, focus on everything wrong with him. He was a little too short, his eyes were too dull, his hips were too wide, his shoulders were too thin, and his chest was too large. He continued to change every single little detail about his physical form until he looked almost unrecognizable, and almost fake. If anyone had walked in at that moment they would have seen a muscular six and a half foot tall boy with long wavy golden brown hair done up like a Viking, shimmering hazel eyes, light yet deeply tanned skin, and dark brown stubble lining his chin. Sure he looked nice, but this man sitting in the closet crying just didn't look like Peter should have. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Peter has a brilliant idea that just might make him feel better. He grabbed his slightly mangled sketchbook from a shelf near him,  his phone, and some of his nicer colouring pens. He found four pictures he liked of four different people, aunt May, uncle Ben, his dad Loki, and his papi Tony. Slowly reverting to his default form, Peter began to draw a portrait with uncle Ben's wavy brown hair and smile, Tony's striking figure and scruff facial hair, aunt May's soft skin and facial features, and Loki's intimidating blue-green eyes and light skin tone with a bluish undertone.

Peter stood in front of the large mirror in his bathroom and focused on the image in his mind of the picture he drew. He watched, unblinking, as his entire body changed to what he'd drawn.  That episode was a lot faster than he'd expected, but Peter knew he'd have to find a way to stop randomly shifting before he blew his cover.

"Gods of Asgard, that is so cool." Peter whispered with a slight British accent.

It had been about an hour since he had left the table and ran upstairs, and decided to shift back to his default form from all of the last week. He proceeded to clean his room as quickly as he could before going downstairs to bring Pip up to his room.

"Hey Pip," Peter smiled as he made sure his voice was normal, "come upstairs, you can sleep in my room."

There was an air mattress sitting next to Peter's bed for Pip that was made up as comfortably as possible. Pip liked bouncy feel of the mat, it reminded him of camping with his mom when he was little.

"Pip?"

"Yeah Peter?"

"Don't tell tell anyone I'm Spider-Man, please."

"Sure, but if you're ready, Quinn doesn't believe the whole Mysterio problem either."

"Thank you Pip."