Chapter Text
Green.
That was all Peter knew.
That was all he could know.
The green that surrounded him, encased him in a cocoon of green sludge.
Safe.
No.
There wasn't anywhere safe. Not anymore...
He didn't like this. This...illusion of safety. As if Peter had ever been safe.
No.
No.
He needed out.
He thrashed.
Pockets of air forming around his flailing, uncooperative body.
He could think.
He could not control.
He tried to breathe.
He couldn't.
He tried to scream. All that came out was a gargled mess. His lungs weighed heavy. His fists bounced around, searching for something to break, to destroy.
He found glass. Heavy, reinforced glass. He punched. A crack formed, picturesque. He swung again. He saw light. Artificial. Clean.
His body fell on the glass. Pinpricks of pain sprouted up from the new wounds. They were gone.
He coughed out the sludge, clearing his airway. A wet splat echoed in the room. The room turned red. A relief from the green. But what came with it was the sound of a grating alarm, a screeching bell that grated against Peter's sensitive ears.
Like a newly emerged foal, Peter fumbled, trying to stand, failing, trying again. He stood, on shaky legs.
He was naked.
He shivered, the room cold. A shout. Nearby.
It echoed in the room. He didn't hear what they said. Didn't understand it. Only that they were afraid. Prey. Green encased his vision. He was so angry. His breath was short. His control slipped. He felt his teeth enlargen, his limbs loosen, steady. Hunting.
His head quirked, watching as a person in a white coat stepped back, toeing out of a door. A mistake. They ran. Peter chased. He lunged. Caught their neck in his hands. He squeezed. They choked. He growled, panting, a liquid secreted out his teeth. Fangs. It scrambled, gasping for air.
A shot rang out. But Peter was already on the ceiling. Looking down at the gathering of 23 bugs in white coats. They shot at him. They missed. He didn't. He shot his webs at them, sticking them to the ground and each other. They were pinned in seconds.
Peter crept down the wall, eyes never leaving the squirming, shouting pile. They trembled in fear. What have they done?
Peter crawled closer, poking the pile, they thrashed. He reered back and bared his teeth, hissing. Then he poked around the webs some more, making sure they were all secure. The siren still wailed. Peter ignored it.
He found one white coat separate from the others. She was crying. Peter tilted his head. She was prey. Peter dragged her further away from the others.
He was so hungry. He needed a little snack.
She squirmed, trying to break free from his webs. She couldn't. Peter wanted her to still. His fangs dripped his venom. He licked his lips. He lunged. Jaw clamped around her shoulder, venom seeping into her veins. She stilled.
Another door burst open. Peter froze.
In the doorway was the most beautifully handsome man Peter has ever seen. And he was big. His inner instincts flared up. Peter let the woman go. Let her drop to the floor. Face pale. But alive.
The man was tall, built as fuck, and had a red full-face helmet on. And he was looking at him. Peter felt himself blush. Great, he attacked people unprovoked (and maybe wanted to eat one of 'em) and now he is getting a hard-on from just seeing a dude!
The guy raised a gun. Aiming it at him. Peter stilled, then flopped onto his back, arms in the air, mimicking a dead spider. He closed his eyes, fully commiting to the bit. He couldn't see, but he could hear as the guy came creeping forward. Oh god, was he going to eat him?
The heavy boots stilled. Peter could hear an uptick in his heart beat. He was nervous. Why would Bulky - he was just going to call him that - be nervous? A steel toed boot nudged Peter's shoulder. He stayed still.
"What the fuck...?" Bulky's voice was like gravel, yet, silky smooth. Oh Peter liked that voice. But Bulky was obviously freaked out. Why? Peter couldn't tell ya. All he did know was that he was now being dragged by his arm and that a leather...coat? was being placed around his shoulders. He was then leant against something cold. Sitting up. Peter stayed still, listening.
"What the hell is this? What'd you do?" He could hear panicked breaths. 22 heart beats increase in their tempo. The other two were sedate, calm (the unconscious woman and Bulky - whose heart had calmed down not long ago -). One of the white coats replied.
"We-We didn't know he had- had-" Bulky was impatient, a gunshot broke out.
"Spit it out! I don't have all day!" Oh, he could command with that voice!
"WE DIDN'T KNOW HE WAS A META!" They screamed, trembling. "THE FORMULA WAS NOT MEANT TO BE GIVEN TO METAS!" There was a pregnant pause. Peter couldn't resist slightly opening his eye, peaking out at the scene before him. Bulky was facing away from him, blocking most of his view of the white coats. Scientists.
"What do you mean?" His voice was calm. Not wanting any bullshit.
"The-the laz-lazura's was never meant to be given to metas...it would be catastrophic...too powerful..."
Bulky hummed. Head tilting. "You should have checked first." He shot their leg. Their scream and the gunshot ringing out in the echoey room. "But even so. Human experimentation equals a gun to the head. You should all know this by now."
He paced, prowling in front of Peter, eyes trained on the immobilised gathering. Shouts were heard further into the building. Bulky paused, then clicked his tongue.
"Guess you're all lucky today. But if I hear another whisper about anything like this happening again. You won't even have time to blink before I put a bullet through your skull." Bulky turned back to Peter, Peter once again went limp, eyes shutting closed.
"Goddammit." Peter felt two large hands skate their way under his legs and back, pulling him up and into the ginormous chest of Bulky. This is so hot.
He was being carried somewhere. They walked for what felt like hours, but had only really been a few minutes. As a rush of fresh air glazed upon soft skin, Peter shivered. He had always been susceptible to the cold, even before the bite. The arms tightened around him, bringing him further into Bulky's chest. Peter was not complaining.
He was then turned right side up, and sat on a seat...it was a bike? Bulky sat behind him, arms coming forward to grip the handles. Peter's eyes almost snapped open.
WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY ARE GOING TO RIDE A MOTORBIKE LIKE THIS!? PETER HAS NEVER EVEN RIDDEN A MOTORBIKE BEFORE, NOR EVER WITH SOMEONE. And that someone being hot. Plus, maybe a killer?
Peter stuck himself to the seat, not wanting to accidently fly off, even with the big...muscled arms around him, he would've still slipped about. He was a very petite boy, okay?
They zoomed off. The wind whipping past them as they drove through...a city? Peter should definitely be more aware of his surroundings, but he couldn't help but summit to these new feelings of necessity. Of finding a dark, safe place to build a web and sleep. Bulky would definitely bring him to that.
How could he be so sure?
He couldn't.
But wherever he ended up, would hopefully be better than whatever that green goo was. Peter can still feel it drying and sticking to his skin. Disgusting.
Due to the speed of the vehicle, Peter's boneless body leant back against the chest behind him, head swinging to lay on Bulky's broad shoulder. Peter was loving this. It was a shame it actually had to end. He quickly unstuck himself from the seat.
They parked and Bulky got off, making sure Peter didn't fall backwards, as he secured his bike. Peter was lifted again and tucked tightly against Bulky's chest once more. He was warm, so warm Peter wanted to just burrow up against him and hibernate. It was so cold outside.
Peter heard a door opening then locking. The warmth of the area he was in soaked into his bones, relaxing him further. He was then placed down onto what felt like a couch. The leather jacket on his shoulders being taken and replaced with a blanket. Oh, Peter wanted to pass out. He was so comfortable.
Is Bulky really not going to eat him? If so, then Peter might just actually pass out, he was so tired all a sudden. Noises faded into the background. Peter's heart steadied. His already closed eyelids weighed heavy.
And he was gone.