content: blood, injury, stitches, probably inaccurate suture advice but this will be important later, nothing crazy tee bee h, paige and reader being ❤️❤️❤️, paige not beating the loser allegations, we’re getting somewhere!!!, paige's first outing as spiderwoman and making a fool of herself on main, nika is the best wingwoman ever this is so exciting, reader and spidey meeting for the first time #so cute, just fluff and unimaginable foreshadowing, not proofread bc what's proofreading
wc: 14.2k
notes: andrew garfield is my favorite spiderman
tags: @iluvbuckets @lilpaigeyherbo
Paige feels like she’s going to throw up.
“Looks good from here,” Nika reports diligently through the phone. If Paige’s hearing wasn’t as good as it is now, she’s sure she would have struggled to hear Nika through the wind in her ears.
It’s a few days after their respective exams, granting them the perfect moment to get to work on some of the preparations and training for their new Spidey P gig, as Nika is calling it, and they’ve made steady progress so far. The first installment of the uniform to maintain Paige’s anonymity was nothing too exciting, but it got the job done. It was a simple pair of grey sweatpants with a red hoodie and Paige pairs it with a simple mask with…very questionable eye sockets fashioned for seeing. The uniform is not her best work, nor is it Nika’s, who seemed to have a sixth sense for redesigning her clothes to get the most out of them.
The other thing they were working on was the whole web swinging ordeal. It was appealing in theory and truthfully sounded kind of fun, but that quickly went out the window as soon as Paige launched herself off of the top of her apartment building, blindly trusting that her webs were actually strong enough to hold her body and that she wasn’t actually falling to her death.
Obviously, the webs were strong enough, and Paige is thankfully alive. Still, the concept of swinging web to web like a literal spider was something that was going to have to grow on her. She feels weightless, almost like she’s flying, and spider or otherwise, it’s extremely clear that the human body was not made to experience something like this, given the way her breakfast is threatening to come back up.
“Yeah, well, I don’t feel so good, Ms. Muhl,” Paige says sarcastically. On the next upswing, she angles her body in such a way that she lands back on the roof of an adjacent building. Nika is staring at her from the roof of their apartment building, her lips pressed into a thin line with her phone against her ear.
“Is there something wrong or are you just being a pussy?” Nika asks bluntly.
“Chill!” Paige says, aghast. She was not a pussy. If Nika got bit by a spider and suddenly developed new abilities, she’d probably also be as sick over web-swinging as Paige was. “It’s just…new. Like, I’m so high up and swinging just feels so weird.”
“Yeah,” Nika says plainly, “that’s why we’re training. Quit bitching and go again.”
Paige wrinkles her nose, knowing that Nika can’t see it. “Dunno who died and made you the hero,” she mutters, stepping up onto the ledge of the building and peering down. She swallows thickly. She was really high up. “Usually sidekicks aren’t this mean.”
“Pussy.”
Paige rolls her eyes, then launches off of the building again with little fanfare. The free-fall gets a little easier after so many reps, and about halfway down, she flicks her wrist out and shoots. Her web latches onto the corner of a building and she draws her body in slightly, gently guiding herself into a neat swing as she rounds the corner. At the apex of the motion, she allows the web to snap, then shoots another web with her other wrist, guiding herself to the left.
“That one was better,” Nika says, actually sounding pleased. She reminds Paige of Master Splinter, and Paige almost misses her next words as she giggles to herself at the mental image of Nika as a mutant rat. “You should try swinging faster – just a little. You’ll need to get to places quickly and on short notice if–”
In the middle of Nika’s sentence, Paige latches onto the corner of a building, half-focused on Nika’s words and half-focused on Master Splinter, and she’s not really processing her surroundings. She swings up to reach the top of the building and entirely misses an overhanging air conditioning unit sticking out of somebody’s window, and the uncomfortably sharp, painful piece of scrap metal attached to it, too.
Pain courses through her body immediately. Paige yelps, equal parts surprised and agonized, and her web snaps as she loses her focus entirely. Scrambling and overcorrecting, she blindly shoots another web so as to not fall to her death, but the angle and the force is all wrong and she roughly slams into a fire escape. Before she can fall again, she manages to wrap her fingers around the bars, holding on despite the ache already beginning to spread.
“Paige?” Nika exclaims, her voice cutting through her daze. “Paige, are you okay? Hello?”
Paige just groans in response, pressing her forehead against the metal. “I survived a robbery at gun point just to get humbled by a fucking AC unit,” she gasps through waves of pain. “No, I’m not okay.”
“How many fingers am I holding up?” Nika asks teasingly, and when Paige turns her head to the side, she can see Nika leaning over the edge of their apartment building with three fingers raised. Paige rolls her eyes, then winces in pain when she feels her side throb.
“Shut up,” Paige says weakly.
“Sorry.” Nika at least sounds genuinely apologetic. “Can you swing back over here? I seem to be lacking in the web department.”
Paige lifts her head again, mentally cataloging the distance. She’s not as far away as she could be – just one building over, and she’s high enough she could get decent momentum to propel herself to Nika. She nods, then realizes Nika can’t really see from this far away, and she says quickly, “Yeah, gimme a sec.”
Gently, she pulls herself over the bars of the fire escape, gripping onto the ladder supports to stabilize herself, and she inhales sharply when her side flares up again. She presses a hand to her torso absentmindedly but immediately flinches at the contact. Hissing, she glances down, her hand coming away stained with blood, and Paige feels all of the blood remaining in her body go cold at the sight.
“Paige?” Nika asks again, growing concerned.
“I’m bleeding,” she says, voice pinched. Paige wasn’t scared of blood by any means – having a roommate like Nika, who recreationally watched surgery videos, helped build that tolerance, but Paige wasn’t used to having so much of her own leaking out of her body beyond her monthly period cycles. “Like…a lot.”
“Shit,” Nika curses. She sounds a lot less pleased now. “C’mon, I need you to hurry so I can look at it.”
Paige swallows again, but musters up the last bits of her courage and slowly climbs on top of the fire escape railing. She chokes on a gasp when the movement irritates her side, but she bites her lip to keep from crying out. Before she can talk herself out of it, she uses the last bits of her strength to push herself off of the fire escape, flicking her wrist out to catch the edge of the building with her web. Unsurprisingly, swinging hurts even more when you’re injured, and Paige propels herself towards her apartment building.
She’s just barely a few inches away from clearing the top, forcing her to release her web and grapple for the edge of the building. Her fingers dig into the concrete, feet pressing to the bricks, and Nika reaches over the edge quickly to reach for her shoulders, hauling her up and over the side. She clears the edge and Paige rolls over onto her back before she can face-plant onto the ground, and Nika’s shadow above her covers the sun beating down on her face.
“Come on,” Nika says again, urgent, and Paige realizes half-heartedly that Nika cut the call. She hopes her airpod didn’t fall out in the swing over. “Get up, P, I need to get you inside.” Paige holds on tightly to Nika’s hands as her roommate pulls her to her feet, grunting in pain as Nika wraps her arm around her shoulder to bear her weight. Nika drags her back inside and down the stairs, which just makes Paige feel sick all over again, her body jostling as she descends.
“Maybe this was a bad idea,” Paige slurs mournfully, feeling a little dizzy. “‘M not like that forreal. Jus’ chopped and delusional.”
Paige doesn’t need heightened senses to know that Nika is rolling her eyes at her. “I can do stitches,” she says flatly, “not therapy. Quit complaining and get your self-esteem in check.”
“Sorry.”
After a few flights of stairs, they finally reach their apartment door, and Nika unlocks it with haste and pulls Paige inside quickly before anyone can see them. The door shuts behind them with a loud click and Nika pushes her towards their kitchen, where she sits her down at a stool. “Strip,” Nika orders, already digging under their sink for the first aid kit.
Paige doesn’t even have it in her to make a joke about how Nika should take her out to dinner, and she pulls the mask and the hoodie off with considerable discomfort. By the time she’s finished, Nika already has a pair of latex gloves on and a pretty intimidating lineup of a pre-packaged needle and thread, gauze, and some antiseptic. Paige was regretting everything prior to seeing all of that, but that feeling only gets worse the longer she stares.
“I know you’re half dead right now, but I need you to lock in,” Nika says calmly as she pours a generous amount of the antiseptic on the gauze. Paige’s nose wrinkles – it smells like hydrogen peroxide. She steps closer to Paige, her eyes taking in the wound like she’s been in this position a few times before. “I did eventually want to show you how to stitch yourself if something goes wrong and I can’t help. Wasn’t expecting it to be now, but…” She shrugs, and she doesn’t give Paige any further warning before she begins cleaning around the edge of the laceration. Paige hisses, although she tries to remain as still as possible, even though that’s a task more difficult than it sounds.
The bleeding has slowed some, but Paige is cognizant enough to know that Nika will have to work quickly. “Not that I need to explain this, but make sure your wound is as clean as possible,” Nika instructs. When it’s to her liking, she tosses the soiled gauze in the trash can, already reaching for the suture needle. “This is a kit that comes pre-threaded, but if you have it separately, just…thread it, too.”
“How descriptive,” Paige says dryly, and gasps when Nika braces her hand over her torso.
“What, do you want me to give you a lecture on how to put a band-aid on, too?”
“I just thought – holy shit!” Paige’s voice cracks when she feels the first pinch of the needle pierce her skin. She glances down, although she has to lift her head back up immediately so as to not throw up. “Fuck, Nika, give me a warning, bro.”
“Use the forceps to lift the tissue,” Nika says, ignoring Paige. “If you don’t have access to forceps, use your fingers, but it’s less precise. Pierce the skin a few millimeters away from the end of the laceration, then push the needle through the other side of the tissue, and use the forceps to pull the thread through by the tip of the needle.” As she speaks, Paige feels another poke, and the strangest feeling of the nylon thread connecting the stitching. “Roll your wrist as you pull it through – it prevents tissue damage.”
Paige thinks about Master Splinter stitching up one of the ninja turtles, and that thought is less funny the second time around given the pain radiating through her body. “Then, tie your knots,” Nika continues. “Place the forceps over the incision in between the two ends of thread. Wrap the long needle end of the thread around the forceps once, then use the forceps to grab the shorter end, and pull the shorter end through the loop towards yourself. Don’t yank it, unless you wanna die.”
“I wouldn’t die,” Paige says, sure, though she winces at the feeling of her skin being pulled together.
“You wouldn’t heal right and it’d hurt like a bitch,” Nika amends, “and you’re a bitch so it’d feel like dying.”
Paige rolls her eyes, and Nika keeps stitching.
“That was just the first throw of the first knot,” she states. “Do the same thing you just did. Wrap the needle end of the thread around the forceps, then grab the shorter end with them. The shorter end should be on the opposite side now. Pull it through, make sure the edges of the tissue meet, and keep the tension even.” Nika then reaches for a pair of scissors, cutting the ends of the knot. “Make sure you cut off the excess. Leave like a centimeter – you don’t wanna leave too much and start your new knot with an old piece of thread ‘cause that’ll fuck everything up. Then…finish your knots until the entire wound is closed.”
“Dr. Muhl, my hero,” Paige says dryly, leaning back in the chair. Her adrenaline is fully starting to wear off and she can feel the exhaustion starting to creep in, followed by the pain in her torso fading into an insistent throb. She chances a glance down again, her lips twisting up at the sight of blood drying at the edges.
As if not cognizant of the urgency of the moment, Paige’s phone vibrates in her pocket once, then twice. Paige just sighs, knowing there’s only one other allowed contact who could bypass her Do Not Disturb. “Nika,” Paige says gently, “my phone.”
Nika’s already making quick work of continuing the stitches, although she pauses and leans back with a raised brow. “I ain’t touching it. That’s not sterile. Do you want an infection?”
Paige mutters a curse under her breath that Nika pretends to not hear. With the lapse in stitching, Paige quickly reaches into her pocket for her phone, her face paling as she reads the text message from you. “Um,” she hesitates, and Nika glances up again. “She’s gonna be here in five minutes.”
“What?” Nika exclaims. Simultaneously, they both glance around their apartment, taking in the soiled hoodie on the counter top, the discarded mask, and the bloody gauze in the trash can. “Tell her no, bro. I’m literally stitching you up in our fucking kitchen.”
“Did you miss the part where I said she’s gonna be here in five minutes?” Paige retorts, her heart starting to thump unevenly in her chest. “She’s not just gonna turn around. She’s just gonna know something is up.”
Nika’s hands move deftly as she works on tying the second knot. “Well, let her think something is up,” she says, re-threading the needle for the third one. “Do you really wanna explain to her why I’m stitching you up? Like, yeah, I have magical spider powers now. I tried to kill myself via air conditioning unit. Also, I’m in love with you.”
“I’m not in love with her!”
“You’re cooked,” Nika says, sure, and she actually laughs at Paige. She’s stitching her up in their kitchen and she’s laughing in her fucking face. Paige cannot believe the day she’s having right now. “You’re actually so cooked, dude.”
Paige doesn’t dignify that with a response. She dutifully responds with a defeated Okay and then sets her phone down on the counter. As Nika works, she flicks her wrist out, shooting a web towards her discarded clothes to bring them towards her. She drops them into the trash immediately. Anxiously, she opens Find My if only to stare at your location, watching as you walk closer and closer towards her.
Nika doesn’t speak as she methodically works through the stitches. Paige tries to not let her anxiety show on her face, but it’s easier said than done when she watches your ETA go from five minutes to four and Nika isn’t even a quarter of the way done.
Perhaps she was cooked. There was no getting around that. She’s been into you for as long as she could remember, maybe from the first time you’d met. It wasn’t instantly like that, but it was clear she was drawn to you and you were drawn to her and you were just…magnetic. You were funny and kind and driven and you didn’t make her feel like an outlier, and that meant more than she could reasonably express.
But…she doesn’t want to look too far into it, doesn’t want to misconstrue your intentions or what you feel about her. As much as it hurts her to think about not having any kind of future with you, it hurts even more to be nothing completely. She was pretty sure you liked girls – if the picture on your Instagram at pride with the lesbian flag painted just below your eye was any indication – but that didn’t mean you liked her.
Her feelings were just something she’d have to go to the grave with. She’s made her peace with that.
Paige glances down again, finding that Nika is a little over halfway through with her stitches, and you’re less than two minutes away. She exhales sharply, but bites her tongue so as to not say anything. She can all but feel Nika’s amusement, however, and her roommate says knowingly, “I’m not rushing your stitches just ‘cause your girl’s on the way. You shoulda thought about that before you told her it was okay to come.”
“I know,” Paige laments, leaning her head back to stare mournfully at the ceiling. She’s just so…over it. She feels like she needs to take an advil and go to bed, but in truth, she did want to see you. She was useless like that. She just didn’t want to lie to you, something that was both impossible and Paige’s least favorite thing in the world.
The both of them fall quiet, although it does seem like Nika tries to work a little quicker without sacrificing the quality of her stitches. The distance gradually lessens between your location and Paige’s apartment building, and Nika is just beginning to tie the knot on the last stitch when your knock rings against the door. She doesn’t flinch – which is more than Paige can say, and they exchange a quick glance as Nika trims the excess off and immediately tosses the used needle into the trash.
Nika rips her gloves off, pushing the antiseptic and gauze towards Paige, and says, “Go put a shirt on and clean yourself up. I got it in here.”
Paige doesn’t even argue. She takes the supplies and pushes herself off of the stool, stumbling slightly as she hurriedly makes her way into her room, and she gingerly pours the peroxide over the gauze with one hand as she rifles through her drawer with the other. She can hear Nika tightening the string on the trash bag to close it, the sound of the first aid kit being tossed back under the sink, and her call of “Coming!” as she makes her way across the room to get the door for you.
Paige curses under her breath, glancing down at her torso and gently bracing her hand over the stitching as she cleans up the remnants of the dried blood around the laceration. The edges are a little bruised and tender to the touch, but when it’s fully clean, she pulls a white tank top over her head, not really thinking about the color choice. Before she leaves her room, she looks at herself once in the mirror just to make sure she doesn’t look like complete ass. She finds that she only looks like half ass, which is better than nothing, so she exits her room to the sound of your voice in the living room.
“–and he listened,” you’re saying, “like, actually listened. They’ve been pulling the cameras and stuff and looking into the locations, and–” You pause when you see that Paige has walked into the room, and something in your gaze softens at the sight of her. It’s enough to make Paige’s heart start thumping erratically again. “There you are. Thought you were hiding from me.”
Paige smiles sheepishly. “Nah, I was, um…” Nika raises a brow at Paige over your shoulder. “...watching a, um, bird.”
Your lips twitch, evidently amused. “Watching a bird?” you repeat, tone dripping with humor and something like endearment. Nika looks as though she’s trying not to laugh and Paige’s cheeks heat up, embarrassed.
“Yeah,” she lies, digging an even bigger hole for herself. “It was…eating seeds.”
“As birds do, I imagine.”
Paige wants to explode and die. You think nothing of her behavior, stepping forward with your arms extended to wrap her in a quick hug like you always do, but Paige doesn’t have the mental capacity to push you away or dodge it and it feels like her life is flashing before her eyes when you wrap your arms around her torso. Obviously, you don’t mean to touch her stitching, but she hisses in pain, trying to stifle the sound as she braces her hand over her wound. Nika genuinely facepalms.
You pull away just as quick, concern etched on your features. “Are you okay?” you ask gently, your eyes flicking down to where Paige is covering her torso. “What happened?”
“Nothing!” Paige says quickly, her voice cracking in the way it does when you fluster her and she’s trying to lie herself out of the doghouse. It usually never works, so Paige isn’t sure why she thought this time would be any different.
“C’mon, P, cut the shit,” you say flatly. “It’s not nothing if you’re bleeding.”
Paige glances down immediately, finding light spotting on her tank. She’s probably the stupidest person in the world. Why the fuck did she choose a white tank top? “I– um, it–”
Thankfully, Nika bails her out before Paige can make things worse for herself. “She tripped and cut herself on some sheet metal like a dumbass. Wasn’t anything too deep, but she thinks insurance is a choice so I had to play doctor and stitch her up.”
You don’t find the situation as humorous as Nika does, making eye contact with Paige and then looking back down at her torso, your brows furrowing in poorly concealed worry. “Do you have gauze?” you ask. “Tape?”
“Under the sink,” Nika says nonchalantly, sitting down on the couch and pulling her phone out.
Now armed with a plan, you reach for Paige’s wrist and you tug her back to the stool she was just sitting on while she was getting her stitches done. She gets the feeling of deja vu as she watches you dig through the first aid kit under the sink to get the gauze and the medical tape. She meets Nika’s eyes across the room, and Nika looks as though she’s still trying to hold back laughter as Paige’s cheeks burn. Thankfully, she doesn’t say anything, but Paige knows she’s going to get an earful later.
When you return, your hands are full with the supplies, and you step closer to her. “Lift your shirt?” you request softly. Paige swallows thickly, her entire body on fire, but she does as asked and reaches for the hem of her tank top. She pulls it up slowly, exposing her freshly stitched wound to you, and she presses her palm flat to her ribcage to give you room to work. You inhale sharply.
“It looks worse than it feels,” Paige lies, trying to comfort you, and you actually huff out a quick laugh.
“You’re a shit liar,” you mutter. Paige cracks a smile at that. You unravel the gauze, bracing one hand against her side and using the other to wrap the fabric around her waist, covering the wound entirely. “Good? Tighter or looser?”
“Good,” Paige says, her throat dry, unable to tear her eyes off of you. Your brows are furrowed, eyes focused and intense as you hold your hand to her side to stabilize the gauze, and you reach for the roll of medical tape with your other hand. You pull a piece of tape off, using your teeth to break it off from the roll, and you tape the gauze neatly to her skin. It’s probably bad practice, Paige thinks, to use your mouth, but she finds that she really doesn’t care.
“So,” she says dumbly. “What’d you come over for? You said it was your article?”
“Yeah,” you respond, your eyes lighting up a little as you tear off another piece of tape. “We’re making progress with Scootergate. The campus police chief is actually looking into it now and he thinks we’re dealing with like, a serial scooter stealer. Pretty sure he only gives a fuck now ‘cause they’ve been stealing the rental scooters and somehow disabling the trackers and the companies are starting to get pissed at the university, but…a win is a win, I guess.”
“That’s good,” Paige agrees, flustered. You finish taping her up and you pull her tank back down, your fingers brushing against her hand in the process. “Look at you saving the day.”
You smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I don’t know,” you murmur, lips twitching. “I’ve been trying for weeks to get their attention and get them to do something. I’ve been writing about it every day and they just…do nothing. It shouldn’t have taken the rental companies stepping in for the university to start caring.”
“It shouldn’t have,” Paige agrees, voice soft. “That’s fucked up. But that doesn’t mean you weren’t trying or making an impact, you know?” You glance up, meeting her gaze, and Paige just knows she looks stupid and a little too obsessed, but she can’t help it. “Word of mouth is strong. That’s what you say, right? Awareness? You talking about it is preventing more theft ‘cause people are making positive changes. S’why they’re goin’ after the rental scooters now – there’s no more personal ones just hanging around unattended.”
You hold eye contact for a beat, your eyes searching Paige’s as your expression melts into something a little more tender. “You’re right,” you concede, and a lopsided smile stretches Paige’s lips. “I think I just got in my head about it. This whole ordeal has been so…frustrating.”
“It’s ‘cause you care a lot,” Paige says knowingly. “That’s not a bad thing.” Your lips twitch into a matching smile. “When’s your article dropping?”
“Tonight. I came over to see if you’d, you know…wanna look over it with me, but…” You gesture to her side meaningfully, looking a little shy. “It’s probably better if I let you rest.”
Paige shakes her head adamantly. As much as she wanted to go to bed earlier, that’s the last thing on her mind right now. “’Tis but a scratch,” she teases.
“A scratch?” you echo in reference, grinning. “You have stitches!”
“I’ve had worse,” Paige says solemnly. “Seriously, I’m good. Lemme see it.”
You scan Paige’s features for deception or lingering discomfort, but you seem to find none. “Fine,” you say. Paige smiles at your retreating figure as you retrieve your bag from the couch, rifling through it for your laptop. There’s hardly any space in between the both of you when you return, sidling up next to Paige, and she tries to not think too hard about that as she reads through your article.
There’s nothing wrong with it – there never is. There’s rarely a grammatical error or a misspelling, and you effortlessly combine professionalism with a genuine passion for reporting. Paige doesn’t know why you ask her to look over your articles, but she’d never complain about getting extra time with you.
You’re only there for an extra thirty minutes, not wanting to eat up too much of Paige’s rest time, but you leave their apartment with a goodbye hug – one that’s more cognizant of Paige’s injury – and you wave goodbye to Nika as you depart. Paige watches you leave, the smile not leaving her face, and her reverie is only broken up by Nika clearing her throat.
Paige looks at her. She knows immediately. “Don’t even start, bro,” she grumbles. “I’on wanna hear it.”
“I genuinely can’t tell if you’re this stupid on purpose or if you’re just oblivious,” Nika says heatedly. “She’s in love with you, twin! She came over to tell you about those fuckin’ scooters and to read her article. Her articles are perfect! Everyone knows this! She just wanted to spend time with you.”
Paige shakes her head, blushing deeply. “No,” she says weakly, trying not to feel too delusional. “She doesn’t like me like that, Nika. That’s just how she is. And she’s super passionate about the scooter stuff. I’m sure she’d talk to a wall about it if you gave her the chance.”
It even sounds flat to Paige, who knows that’s not even true. You were very particular about who you told your stories to before they were written and posted – something about journalism HIPAA, which Paige doesn’t even think is a real thing. But it is true that Paige hears about all of your stories before they reach the general public.
“Okay, then how do you explain her coming in here and being worried about you and taping you up and shit?” Nika retorts.
“You literally just finished stitching me up,” Paige points out. “Are you saying you’re in love with me, too?”
“That’s different and you know it,” Nika says. “I signed up for this. I had to do your stitches or else you’d bleed out and die. She did your gauze because she cares about you and because she’s in love with you. Do you remember that one time KK ate shit on her scooter and your girl didn’t even bat an eye?”
“She doesn’t know KK like that–”
“She’s known KK as long as she’s known the both of us!” Nika exclaims, waving her hands. “She loves you, dumbass. L-O-V-E. You need to make a move!”
“Why me?”
“Paige,” Nika says, her voice softening. She stands up from the couch and crosses the room to stand in front of Paige, bracing her hands over her shoulders and making direct eye contact. “Twin. My best friend in the world. Paige. You need to make a move because every fucking interaction she has with you is a love confession. The ball is in your court and you’re not even passing it to a teammate – you’re chucking that shit out of bounds like you’re scared of it. She’s gonna think you’re not into her and you’re gonna miss your chance entirely. Grow a pair, bro.”
Paige sighs. “But what if she doesn’t?” she says, voice cracking a little. “What if I say something and I ruin everything and she doesn’t even wanna be my friend anymore? I don’t wanna lose her.”
“Do you really think she’s the kind of person to stop being your friend just ‘cause you like her?” Nika asks. “Y’all have a better bond than that. Just ‘cause it’s not guaranteed doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try at all. That’s what you said the other day.”
“Yeah, about fighting crime,” Paige mutters, “not confessing my feelings to my best friend. And unfortunately I would not try at all. I’d rather be miserable than scare her away.”
“Then you’re gonna be miserable anyways,” Nika says. Paige doesn’t have a response for that, knowing it’s true. It’s just terrifying because these feelings are so real and she cares so much for you. She doesn’t want things to change if her feelings aren’t reciprocated. “Just trust me, okay? Next time you see her, get her a bouquet of flowers or something. Be intentional and don’t pussy out of it. I promise you, she’s into you. You just need to show her that you’re really into her, too.”
Paige swallows thickly, feeling a little overwhelmed. Deep down, she knows Nika is right. She doesn’t say anything for a few beats, but eventually she settles on, “Fine.” The words don’t pack any real heat – just acceptance, and Nika nods like she’s pleased by the response. “Just know that if she hates me afterwards, you’ll never hear the end of it.”
“She won’t hate you,” Nika says confidently. “So just be ready to thank me later.”
Paige just rolls her eyes at that, and Nika finally releases her, heading back to the couch. She doesn’t move for a minute, her mind spinning, though she gives up soon enough. She needs a nap.
Given Paige’s inability to keep herself out of trouble for five minutes, she and Nika spend the next few days workshopping the new iteration of the uniform. Seeing as she nearly got taken out by an air conditioning unit of all things, it was clear they needed to modify it a lot and make it slash- and stab-resistant. Paige wasn’t particularly fond of the concept of potentially making it bulletproof, too, but they both knew the suit needed substantial upgrades.
It took a considerable amount of time and a lot of money spent on quality fabrics and good material, but they finally landed on a design and fit that was practical and looked nice. It was colored a deep red and dark, royal blue, with raised webbing accents adorning the chest and boots. Nika had the genius idea to add a spider design across her torso and Paige was immediately in love with it.
She and Nika were able to work together and design what they were both calling her web-shooters. They provided her better control over her natural webs, strengthening them and allowing her greater range of motion than she usually had when she was swinging without them. They were able to increase the speed with which they shot from her wrists, something that would undoubtedly come in handy when she needed to get places as quickly as possible.
The mask, however, was perhaps her favorite part. While the rest of the suit was a full bodysuit, the mask was separate, allowing for quick and easy removal in case of emergencies, and it was covered in the same webbing design as the rest of the suit. The eyes were large and white and impossibly sharp, bringing the suit together in its entirety. It was their best work by far, and Paige wasn’t sure how they were going to top it.
Paige later finds out that the only way they were going to be able to top it was by including fireproof fabric in the suit, because Nika nearly burned it with a candle she left lit. It was… a work in progress, as all things were.
Ever since the first attempted robbery, New York City has been…suspiciously quiet. Paige finds that hard to believe. The only reasonable explanation was that the incidents must have been out of her range – there was no way all of the crime in New York got put on pause while Paige was preparing. But that was probably something they’d have to test later in training. Paige needed to understand her limits better, like how far she could hear and with what precision, how to better trust her new senses and her new physicality.
The best training never comes from practice, though; it always comes from practical, real experience and real reps. She was confident that her abilities and confidence and understanding would come with time. She didn’t need to rush anything, given how much she still had to learn.
Between her rigorous class schedule and the other activities she has going on, Paige isn’t exactly rich in free time, but the little she does have is usually spent sitting out on her fire escape, listening to the sounds of the city below her. She’s intentional about it, genuinely trying to hear everything that could possibly be of some alarm. There are a few false positives, such as when she overhears people in their apartments screaming over scary movies or when she’s listening to what she thinks might be an argument, but is actually an out of context TikTok.
Her sixth sense – which she and Nika still don’t have a real name for yet – doesn’t even alert her to anything uncanny. The one time it actually ‘activated’ during her time on the fire escape was when a pigeon flew over her head and shit and she was lucky enough to get out of the way before it landed on her.
Paige isn’t exactly hoping for crime or, in a sense, waiting for it. It’s a good thing that nothing is going on. Still, she just feels like she’s going a little stir crazy, like there’s so much pent up energy in her body and she’s waiting to pounce or use it and after everything there’s just…nothing. Sometimes, the best news is no news, but she’s starting to worry that she’s just genuinely oblivious. If she doesn’t know, then it’s out of her hands, but at the same time, why doesn’t she know?
She hears footsteps behind her and the rustle of the window blinds as someone steps onto the fire escape behind her. Paige knows it’s Nika – she doesn’t need heightened abilities to know that. Nika lowers herself into a sitting position next to Paige, sliding under the spacious railing and allowing her socked feet to dangle off the edge.
“Still nothing?” her roommate asks. Paige shakes her head in confirmation, dragging her fingers along the metal bars absentmindedly. She hums. “So…what I’m hearing is that crime is down 100% ever since Spiderwoman was introduced to the community.”
Paige laughs a little at that, glancing at Nika out of the corner of her eye. “Might be bad stats,” she says. “There is a reporter out there who’s responsible for the decrease in scooter theft. Can’t be all me.”
“Match made in heaven,” Nika jokes. “Soulmates. Destined lovers–”
“Alright, bro, you’re draggin’ it,” Paige mutters, and it’s Nika’s turn to laugh. They fall into a contemplative silence for a few moments, watching the traffic flow beneath them, listening to the chatter of New Yorkers as they go about their evenings. The city is…still. Paige doesn’t think she’s ever seen anything like it.
Finally, Paige speaks up, getting Nika’s attention. “I just feel…I’on know. Useless. Like, I know there’s nothing I can do to control it and it’s good that there’s nothing goin’ on, right?” Nika nods, understanding. “Just feels like I’m wasting my time sitting up here and waiting. Selfishly, I did think it would be a little different, but…” She trails off, not really knowing where she was going with that train of thought.
Nika doesn’t respond for a beat, as though she’s thinking over her words. “This is the first time you’ve actually been ready,” she says eventually. “Prepared. In control. You’re ready to prove that and that chance will come. I think you just need to trust in that, you know?”
“Yeah,” Paige says softly, letting the weight of Nika’s words sink in. “You’re right. It’s just…” She shakes her head. “The silence just makes me nervous. I don’t even know if my senses are as good as I think they are, or–”
“P,” Nika interrupts gently, resting a hand on Paige’s shoulder, squeezing comfortingly. Paige stops rambling sheepishly, letting Nika speak. “Give yourself some credit, okay? You’re smarter than you think you are. Stronger. You know in your heart that you are who you think you are, and I’ve known you long enough to trust that your heart’s never wrong about that stuff.” Paige just nods at that, touched, and Nika continues. “Just ‘cause you’re not seeing results right now or your expectations aren’t being met doesn’t mean something’s wrong with you. It just means it’s not time yet.”
Around them, the city keeps moving, even as Paige processes Nika’s words. Even if it’s not working out as she thought it would, Nika is right. She–
The hairs on the back of Paige’s neck raise. Her head snaps up, looking off onto the distance, where there’s an insistent tugging sensation guiding her that way. Her heart starts racing, her palms itching with a rush, and she knows.
Nika does, too, and she’s smiling as she pushes the mask into Paige’s waiting hands. The bright white eyes stare back at her, almost as though they’re welcoming her in. “Go,” she murmurs. “The city’s waiting.”
Paige doesn’t respond as she shoots to her feet, darting back inside her apartment and into her bedroom. She makes quick work of pulling the mask over her Dutch braids, fitting it snugly, and she slides into the suit seamlessly. It molds around her almost like a second skin, but she doesn’t have time to dwell on how well she and Nika designed it.
Nika’s on the fire escape, standing out of the way, and there’s a look of pride on her face as Paige launches herself from the railing with a running start. Almost unconsciously, Paige flicks her wrist out, her webs latching onto the corner of an adjacent building with fierce speed, and she pulls her body taut to maximize the velocity of her swing.
Her instinct guides her as she swings from block to block. The wind rushes in her ears, adrenaline steadily pumping, and she feels so free up here, so weightless. She’s had more time to get used to swinging and how to use her body in the air, something that had been so needed after she ate shit a few days ago. Paige likes to think she’s really come into herself, and being able to see the physical and mental progress is so gratifying.
Paige can feel eyes on her from below as she swings, can sense their phones raising, but she hardly pays them any attention as she hurtles in between buildings and down the speeds with startling agility. The sounds of the city – car engines, bike rings, chatter – melts into the background and all Paige can hear is the growing intensity of an altercation, still a few blocks away.
There’s a low, dangerous male voice – “Come on, beautiful, you’re really not gonna give me your number? Think of all the thugs just roaming these streets. Lemme protect you.”
There’s the response, a feminine voice pinched with urgency and mild fear. “I’m not interested. Please just leave me alone.”
Then, there’s the faint, almost imperceptible and metallic slide of a pocket knife against the gears in the handle. Paige can hear the erratic, fearful uptick in the woman’s heartbeat, and she propels herself into a faster swing as the voices grow louder. This time, the man is demanding her purse, having dropped the false pleasantries, and her voice breaks into a scream when he finally grabs a hold of her.
Paige is already there. She lands on her feet with a feline grace, wrist angling, and a web flies out and slams against the man’s hand. The knife clatters to the sidewalk harmlessly and both the man and the woman turn to face Paige, their eyes widening in shock and confusion.
“She said she wasn’t interested,” Paige says, her voice coming out strong and with steely. She takes a few deliberate steps closer, watching their body language closely so as to not make matters worse. The man’s face twists, his annoyance palpable. “How about we let her go and we can put this behind us?”
“This doesn’t concern you,” he spits, his grip on the woman tightening. She begins trembling with barely concealed fear, knuckles white as she holds on to the man’s wrist to keep his hands away from her neck. “Just walk away. You’re not a hero.”
Paige doesn’t dignify that with a witty one-liner. Before he can react, she aims another web at the soft spot behind his knee, and the force and angle causes him to fall to one knee with a surprised grunt. The woman backs up, pressing herself against the wall, but all Paige can focus on is the man, comforted by the knowledge the woman is okay.
Perhaps, she concedes, she might be playing with her food a little bit. She’d argue he’s due for a little bit of harassment, seeing how he spends his free time in the city. “Thought you’d have a little more fight in you,” Paige muses. “Or do you prefer people who don’t fight back?”
Enraged, he throws a clumsy punch at her, and Paige sidesteps it with ease, laughing a little. “Come on! You were really close, dude. Here, try again. I’ll stand still for you.”
She can sense that he’s growing impatient and more furious. He pushes himself to his feet and starts towards the discarded knife, but Paige quickly snatches it with a web. “Close again,” she says, baiting him. “Are you having fun? ‘Cause I’m having fun right now. Maybe we should–”
He cuts her off by throwing another punch. Purely acting on instinct and adrenaline now, Paige blocks the swing with her forearm, then uses her other hand to return the punch. It hits him square in the jaw and his head shoots to the side with intensity.
“Okay,” she amends, “I’m a little bored, now.”
His next punch comes quicker this time, and Paige blocks it again. She pushes him roughly with both hands, sending him tumbling backwards, and just like how she subdued the robber at the store, she quickly pins him to the wall with four accurately placed webs on all of his limbs. One more covers his mouth, cutting off the curse he was undoubtedly loading up. Paige steps closer to him, humming absently, and she slides his knife back into the pocket of his coat as the sound of sirens echo from a few blocks over.
Then, she turns around. The woman is still pressed to the wall, shaking, but she doesn’t seem scared of Paige. If anything, she seems curious, yet still shocked from the events of the last few minutes. “Who are you?” she says after a tense moment.
Paige hesitates, all of the confidence melting away into something softer as her adrenaline subsides, too. Tentatively, she says finally, “Spiderwoman. My name is Spiderwoman.”
Except her voice cracks the second time she says Spiderwoman like she’s a fucking prepubescent teenage boy. Briefly, she wishes the spider was venomous, or at the very least, it blessed her with some fucking social skills instead of being able to climb walls.
The woman… nods, still perplexed and a little amused, and Paige can spot the blue and red lights of a police cruiser making its way down the street. She starts backing up to get away from the scene but trips on an uneven segment of sidewalk, barely catching herself in time so she doesn’t face plant. “Fuck!” she exclaims in irritation, and she swings away in embarrassment without a backwards glance.
Faintly, she can hear the woman’s surprised laughter, and her cheeks burn the entire way back.
“So let me get this straight,” Nika says, holding back her laughter. Paige just buries her face in her hands, having already told Nika the entire story, but she knows Nika is about to drag her to hell and back. “So you took down the bad guy. Cool, whatever, you’re a hero. But when the lady you saved asked for your name, you said you were Spiderwoman and your voice cracked, and as you were leaving, you tripped in front of her?”
When Paige looks back up again, Nika’s eyes are bright with mischief and her lips are pressed together tightly. Paige shakes her head, thoroughly embarrassed. “Yeah,” she mutters eventually, and Nika’s howling laughter does not help. If anything, it actually makes it considerably worse, although Paige is sure she would actually find this pretty funny if it happened to anyone else but her.
“You better hope you’re not getting mugged one day,” Paige says flatly. “I’m not saving your dumbass.”
Somehow, that just makes Nika laugh even louder, and Paige just rolls her eyes. Blessedly, she’s saved by the ringing of her phone, and as soon as she recognizes your name lighting up the caller ID, she doesn’t hesitate before answering. “Hey.”
“Hey, are you watching the news right now?” you ask her in lieu of a greeting. You weren’t one for beating around the bush, and that was something Paige appreciated – she fucking hated small talk.
“No, what’s going on?”
“Turn it on,” you request.
“Is that your girl?” Nika asks, not considerate of her volume at all, and Paige blushes for the 20th time that evening.
“Shut the fuck up, Nika, I swear to God–”
Your tinkling laughter cuts Paige’s rant off as she rifles picks the remote up off the coffee table, switching the TV on and navigating to the local news channel. “‘Your girl?’” you ask teasingly. Paige exhales deeply, trying to find the patience to not wrap Nika up in a million layers of webbing and let her figure out how to get out of it. “I didn’t know it was like that.”
“I mean, it’s not–” Paige says smartly, then cuts herself off, not liking the way those words sound coming out of her mouth. “I didn’t mean it like that – like not to say you’re not, like, um…It’s just–” You’re laughing again, more amused and endeared than out of mockery, and Paige huffs again. “I hate both of you. Jesus Christ.”
“The news, P,” you remind her, still giggling, and Paige finally clicks onto the news channel. She’s surprised to see the woman from earlier in the middle of an interview with a local reporter, still looking a little shaken up, but no worse for wear.
“–and then, a woman wearing this insane blue and red suit appeared from thin air,” the woman reports, out of breath. “She was wearing a mask, and she like – she used spider webs to disarm the guy, and then they fought. She moved so fast. It wasn’t human at all. Then, she like pushed him into the wall, and used the webs to tie him up, and the webs shot out from her wrists. I know I sound [BLEEP] crazy, but I mean–” The woman gestures to the side of her, where the camera pans over to the cops and paramedics working on disentangling the man from the webs. Nika chokes on another laugh.
“Did the woman say anything else to you?” the reporter asks. “Did she give you a name? Any indication of why she helped you?”
The woman shakes her head. “No. She did say her name was Spiderwoman, though–”
Please do not say I tripped on live television, Paige thinks to herself.
The woman shrugs. “It’s like she has this sixth sense for danger – she really just appeared out of nowhere. It was insane. But… Spiderwoman saved my life. For that, I’m grateful. That’s all I can really say.”
“Thank fucking God,” Paige says out loud. Nika has to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing.
“Right?” you agree, even though you have no idea why Paige is actually thankful. “This Spiderwoman…she’s interesting. There’s already a couple of videos on TikTok showing her swinging through the city. I can’t believe she’s real, but she’s – she’s a hero, Paige. That’s incredible.”
“Is it?” Paige asks, flustered, and there’s another blush creeping up her neck.
“Dude, of course!” you exclaim. “This is insane. I need to write about this. This is–”
Nika, sitting across from Paige and not trying to hide the fact that she’s eavesdropping, lowers her voice and whisper-yells, “Offer to brainstorm with her!” Paige raises her brows, caught, and Nika gestures emphatically. “The flowers, bro, take her the fucking flowers, and ask if you can come over to help her with the article.”
“Paige?” you ask, distracted by the sounds coming from her side of the call.
“Sorry, I’m here,” she responds, seeing Nika gesture from her peripheral vision again. Paige clears her throat. “Hey, um…this sounds important to you. Do you…want me to come over? I can help brainstorm or something.”
For a moment, you don’t respond, and Paige shooks the nastiest look ever at Nika, who just looks smug. But when you do finally respond, you sound unnaturally shy, as though you’re touched by the offer. “I would…really like that, actually. I can get pizza?”
Paige can’t stop a stupid smile from growing on her lips. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds perfect.” Paige looks up again, and this time, Nika is pointing dramatically to the calendar on the wall. Paige swallows thickly, understanding. “It’s, uh…it’s a date?”
You laugh again over the call, surprised yet giddy and it’s like a direct line of coke to Paige’s entire bloodstream. “It’s a date,” you confirm softly. Nika jumps to her feet, pumping her fist in the air triumphantly. “I’ll see you soon, P.”
“See you soon,” Paige says, and the line goes dead. As soon as she lowers her phone, genuinely in disbelief, Nika all but fucking screams.
“What’d I tell you?!” she cries, smacking her chest and using both of her hands to shake Paige’s shoulders, who softens with laughter. “What the fuck did I say, Paige! I told you she was in love with you. You just had to believe me.”
“Relax,” Paige says, but she’s still grinning like a fool. “It’s just a date. We’re not at the love stage yet.”
“Right,” Nika agrees. She sits back down on the couch, taking a deep breath to calm herself. “I got ahead of myself. Sorry. The love stage is second date material.”
“Nika,” Paige deadpans, but the both of them are cheesing.
“Go now,” Nika says, pushing Paige off the couch, who dutifully obeys for once in her life. “Go to the store. Get some flowers. Don’t make a complete fucking idiot of yourself and kiss her tonight.”
“Nika!”
“Go!”
Laughing, Paige does, making sure she has her keys, phone, and wallet before she leaves her apartment. Wanting to get there as quickly as possible, Paige swings her way to the nearest store, opting to stay near the rooftops and out of sight.
Once she makes it to the store, she scales down the side of the building and enters with haste, heading straight to where she knows the florals are. For a grocery store, they have a surprising selection, from roses to daisies to tulips, and Paige skips over the roses entirely. They weren’t your thing, she remembered that much.
She scans the bouquets quickly. Some of them felt…too intimate, as though they were better used for a later date. Some of them felt too friendly, and if Paige was being honest, she was trying very hard to not keep things friendly. There’s a bouquet with gerbera daisies, pink tulips, and sunflowers.
Paige grabs that one immediately. There was really no other option. She checks out quickly, holds the flowers close to her chest so they don’t get destroyed as she swings, and she’s gone as quickly as she’d made it in.
The city flies by below her. Usually, she’d be paying a little more attention to her surroundings, but she can’t find it within herself to care about anything that’s not you. Your apartment complex wasn’t too far away, and once she makes it, she gingerly climbs down the side to enter through the front door.
She’s visited frequently, so the doorman lets her in without issue, and she takes the elevator up to your floor nervously. Part of her genuinely can’t believe she’s doing this – that she’s about to be on a date with you, even if this is the most lowkey date ever and the both of you will probably just spend the time with you talking about your article or what you want to write and Paige pretending like she’s not hanging on to every word you have to say. There’s something about being with you that’s a little more inconceivable than having these abilities, and she truthfully cannot believe what her life is right now.
The elevator dings, and she steps out, beelining straight to your door. She knocks. And waits. And waits. Until finally, she hears your lock unlatching, and the door opens to reveal you.
You look beautiful. There’s no other way to describe it, even though you hadn’t really dressed up. That wasn’t your vibe. You’re wearing a soft, cream cardigan over a plain white tee, and a pair of loose, high-waisted black cargos. You’re a little out of breath as though you’d been rushing to do something, your hair not as neatly pressed as it usually is, and the only thing Paige can think of to say is “Hi.”
“Hey,” you say back, grinning like an idiot.
And then…neither of you say anything. Paige takes in your outfit again, the way you appear a little frazzled, and she asks gently, “Were you getting ready?”
There’s an edge to her voice that makes you falter. “I mean,” you say, and for once, you seem as though you’re at a loss for words, like you don’t really want her to know how much you cared or how much effort you put into getting presentable tonight. “I just–”
“Oh, my God,” Paige teases, making you flush down to your collarbones. “You were!”
“Shut up, holy shit!”
The both of you break out into laughter – soft, breathless little giggles, far too giddy and excited for no reason at all. Paige notices you staring at the flowers, and she presents them to you with a little flourish. “These are for you,” she says nervously, glancing down at them again. They’re windswept and not nearly as neat as they were fresh out of the store, and Paige starts talking as you reach for them. “Sorry, I guess they got a little beat up during the, uh, the walk over, but–”
You cut Paige off with a soft kiss on the cheek, and when you pull away, the both of you are flushed. “I love them,” you promise, expression endeared and your eyes shining. She lets go of them, watching with rapt attention as you smell them, your gaze tender. “They’re beautiful.”
“Yeah,” Paige agrees, and you both know Paige isn’t referring to the flowers. Your smile widens, bashful, and without further fanfare, you open the door wider for her, stepping to the side to allow her to walk in. She’s been to your apartment hundreds of times, but this time just feels different. It was a date.
Date, date, date. Paige was going to lose her fucking mind in the best way possible. She follows you into the kitchen, taking a seat on a stool while she watches you rifle through the cabinets for a vase to put the flowers in, and you break the comfortable silence with a little bit of mischief. “I was curious,” you say, and Paige hums in response. You round the island, taking a seat in the stool next to her. “What made you ask? Like, now of all times. I’ve been dropping hints for months.”
“Really?” Paige says immediately, her brows furrowing. If that’s true, then…Fuck. Nika was right. Paige doesn’t know whether to hate that or love that.
You nod, amused. “The genome lab tour? Did you really think I went there because I was interested?”
Paige hesitates. “I try really hard sometimes to not think about why you do certain things,” she admits. “I was starting to get obnoxious and delusional. I didn’t think you liked me back.”
You laugh, and Paige can’t help but crack a smile, too. “It’s not a delusion if it turned out to be true,” you point out.
Paige nods, huffing out a quiet, amused little laugh, and she ducks her head bashfully. “But, umm…it was Nika, honestly,” she says. “I mean, not that I didn’t want to ask, but I just– I just get nervous.”
“I can tell.” Your words don’t pack any real heat, and Paige’s lips twitch.
“She just gave me the push. Told me to ask if I could come over, told me to get the flowers – not that I needed that much coaching! I can be a gentleman. I’m really like that. I promise.”
Paige feels as though she’s just stuck her foot in her mouth, but when she looks back at you, you’re wearing the widest smile she’s ever seen on you before. Your cheeks are tinged red, impossibly happy, and she nudges your leg with her foot. “C’mon, you apparently liked me, too. Why’d you never ask?”
You shrug. “I suspected, but I could never be sure,” you say. “You always freak out when I try to drop a bolder hint or initiate anything so I thought I was just coming off too strong.”
“No, of course not,” Paige reassures you. “I just…panicked.”
“I know,” you murmur, fond. “It’s really cute sometimes.” For that, Paige doesn’t have a witty response, so she just ducks her head again, genuinely feeling as though her brain is rebooting. She can’t stop smiling. “See! There it is.”
“Chill,” she admonishes, making you laugh. “We made it here in the end, though. Guess it only took Nika getting sick of my bullshit and forcing me to grow a pair.”
“I’ll buy her a drink next time we’re out,” you promise. Paige opens her mouth to say something else, but you’re both interrupted by a knock at the door. “Oh, it’s the pizza. Hold on.”
“Holding,” Paige reports diligently, and you quirk a small smile. Paige watches you go with a small smile, making brief conversation with the delivery driver as you hand over a generous tip. They leave quickly and you bring the pizza back to the kitchen.
“I hope pepperoni is okay,” you say, a little nervously, and you reach into your cabinet for two plates, then into your fridge for two water bottles.
“You could have DoorDashed Slim Jims and Caprisuns and I’d just be happy to be here,” Paige says honestly, which makes you laugh. With everything set, you sit down next to Paige, and the both of you fill your plates with the pizza. “I promise I didn’t completely have ulterior motives. I do wanna help brainstorm, if you need it.”
Paige finds it endearing how quickly you lock in, unable to say no to talking about journalism. “I don’t really have a lot of ideas yet,” you confess, deep in thought. “For this first article at least, I think I’d just wanna do like, an introduction? Write about the news from today, but I think I also wanna try to meet Spiderwoman.”
Paige chokes on her pizza, and you thump her on the back, concerned. “Sorry,” she gasps, still coughing, and she takes a quick drink of her water. “You said you wanna meet her?”
“Why do you make it sound so outlandish?” you tease. “Are you jealous?”
Paige almost laughs at that – if only you knew. “No, of course not,” she says. “I just mean…how are you gonna track her down? I don’t think she has a public Instagram you can DM her on and book an appointment.”
At that, you shrug. “I dunno,” you say honestly. “I’ll think of something. But, you know, I feel like I have to get an interview, or meet her, or do something. This is an opportunity I can’t pass up. Everyone’s talking about her right now. The reporters with the city paper are talking about her, and there’s so many different opinions. Some people think she’s a hero because she saved that woman. Other people think she’s out of control because she left that man pinned to the wall. Others think she’s a psycho with a god complex.”
“How nice,” Paige says dryly, offended.
“This could be my big break,” you say hopefully, which makes Paige soften. “Like, I was fighting really fucking hard on the stupid scooters, but I need to get my foot in the door. Write about bigger, better things, and right now, I really think that’s Spiderwoman. You understand that, right? I’m not just…dreaming too big?”
“Nothing’s too big for you,” Paige says easily. “You believe in yourself. That’s half of the fight already. And the right choice isn’t always the easiest, or the simplest.” You smile bashfully, your eyes crinkling at the edges, and Paige’s expression melts into something tender. “For what it’s worth, I think you should go for it. But…I want you to be safe, too.”
“Safe?” you echo, faux indignance in your tone.
Paige nudges you. “You know I didn’t mean it like that,” she promises. “You just…you’re so driven. You have no problem putting yourself out there if you know it’s for a good reason – that’s why you were goin’ back and forth with the campus police chief for so long even though he wasn’t budging on shit. And I just…” Paige trails off, thinking. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt. Trust me, I know that’s a risk you’re willing to take, but…Some people really enjoy having you around. As insane as that sounds.”
“You ruined the moment!” you exclaim, laughing, and Paige can’t help but chuckle, too. Still, she knows you’ve processed the weight of her words. You both soften, falling into a contemplative silence. “I’ll be okay. I promise.”
Paige smiles at you, endeared, her heart feeling as though it’s going to beat out of her chest. “That’s enough for me.”
Your smile matches hers. The both of you focus on your pizzas and the flowing conversation – Paige’s studies, your articles, talking about everything, nothing at all, and everything in between. Paige doesn’t think it could get any better than this, and the one thing she knows with absolute certainty is that she owes Nika Muhl for the rest of her life.
As of late, Paige finds herself taking to the skies more often than not. When night falls in New York, there’s an unassuming, familiar sort of peace that follows it, not from any real lack of noise or hustle or activity, but from the comfort that consistency provides. She will always hear the irritated honking of midnight traffic, the sound of animals barking or hissing or scampering through the downspouts of her apartment complex, the lively jingle of bodega bells as people wander in and out in search of food.
Those were sounds she’d gotten used to when she was normal, back before she had all of these abilities and could hear a pin drop. Now, she’s just readjusting to them all over again, and it’s like greeting an old friend. There’s simultaneously beauty in the awareness – to understand there is so much going on around you, to understand you’re a piece of a greater picture and how that makes your problems seem so infinitesimal. There’s also beauty in letting that melt into one single hazy blur, focusing on the sounds and feelings and sights closest to you, able to enjoy the calm in a city that never sleeps.
It’s different at night, when she’s swinging from the canopies of tall buildings, embracing the peace of a kind of freedom she’d never felt before. Prior to the bite, it just felt like she was occupying space, not part of the earth or the universe as much as she was someone who happened to be there. Now, she feels like she’s truly a part of nature, a part of the world, privy to the hum of gravity, the crackle of energy, and an otherworldly sort of cosmicness.
Her trips out at night aren’t all for pleasure. She had a responsibility now, an oath to the city and its citizens, one that she took by herself. Paige is always listening, scanning the sidewalks and alleyways below her as she swings from web to web. Most nights, her adventures aren’t something you’d write epics about. She would stop a mugging or two or escort a drunk woman back to her apartment from the bar. There was one night where she untangled a pigeon from a paper McDonald’s bag and it cooed at her with something that felt like gratitude before it flew off.
Every little piece mattered. Every part of the community mattered, pigeon or otherwise, and she wouldn’t trade that for anything.
Paige is starting to get used to the tingling at the back of her neck, alerting her to something going on in the city. Nika jokingly calls it her spidey sense. Paige hates it, but she does have to admit it’s growing on her. Regardless, she follows the sensation and her intuition, flicking her wrist out so she can swing to the next building.
The streets fade away into a blur of motion and noise below her. She keeps her head up, dodging traffic lights and power lines as she swings. Wind curls around her body, propelling her forward, and that familiar sense in her body only intensifies the closer she gets to the source of the call. She’s nearing the Empire State Building – it was nearing midnight, and they would stop allowing people to ride up soon. Paige can’t help the squeeze of anxiety in her gut, imagining the worst of what she would find. Muggings, she could handle. She’d only had one attempted robbery under her belt, but she was sure she would be fine. She hadn’t prepared herself for the thought of literally talking someone off the ledge, and it’s with that growing sense of doom that she forces herself into a faster swing.
The Empire State Building eclipses everything it stands next to. She would have to scale up the side of it. Scanning the surrounding buildings, she spots the tallest one that would get her closest to the top, and she changes the trajectory of her swing to get her closer. The breeze whistles in her ears, her body feeling light as she hurtles towards the top of it, and she lands with a kind of grace she’s still getting used to.
Paige huffs out a quiet breath, her chest steadily rising and falling from the exertion. There’s still a few hundred feet between her and the top. She pauses, analyzing again, and the idea pops into her head before she has the time to talk herself out of it. Paige backs up to the furthest edge of the rooftop and she runs.
She propels herself off of the roof with force, launching into the air, and she sticks her wrist out to shoot a web onto the bricks. It attaches easily, digging in, and her forward momentum and angle of the web allows her to gradually rise up, circling around the side of the Empire State Building as though she was on a tetherball string. She covers the distance in no time, much faster than she would have had she scaled the side of it, although she still has to crawl up a few more feet before she reaches the top.
But when she reaches the peak of the observation deck, she is wholly unprepared to find you straddling the edge of the railing, not an ounce of fear in your body.
You meet her gaze steadily as she lowers herself into a crouch, her mind racing. What the fuck were you doing up here? Her concern wars with her judgement, torn between getting you to safety and revealing herself in the process, or approaching this with something that resembled tact. But she knew you. You were just fine. Stupid and reckless and brave and impossibly beautiful, but she knew you weren’t going to do anything that would actually endanger your life.
“You know,” you say, a casual air about you like you’re not sitting at the very top of the Empire State Building, where a gust of wind with the right amount of power would be enough to knock you right off. “The woman on the news said you had some kind of sixth sense about danger. I was wondering if it was true.”
Paige makes eye contact with you – or as close to eye contact as she can make through the anonymity of her mask – and she shakes her head with something like disbelief. She knew, but she should have known better. She should have known you would have been reckless about getting her – Spiderwoman’s – attention. She just didn’t think it would be something quite like this.
“I can’t tell if you’re really brave or really stupid,” she says bluntly, her voice cool and confident despite how seeing you up here has rattled her. The mask and the suit and the abilities gave her a kind of invincibility she doesn’t usually walk around with, and she’s sure that’s why you don’t seem to recognize her.
To your credit though, you laugh. “I get that a lot,” you admit, your eyes twinkling. “My best friend says it’s the journalist in me.” Paige swallows thickly, knowing that you’re talking about her. “I guess she’s right. But reporting isn’t easy. Sometimes you have to…really put yourself out there when you know it’s the right thing to do.”
Paige looks at you again, her heart thumping against her ribcage, right next to where your words have settled in her chest.
Bravery wasn’t something she was very good at. She wasn’t loud or outspoken like you were, but she’s beginning to understand there’s a few different kinds of bravery and having one or the other didn’t make it less courageous.
Paige sighs through her nose, softly, more like an exhalation of breath than exasperation. Acceptance, maybe. Gently, she asks, “Will you get off the ledge?”
“I will if you answer some of my questions,” you retort. Against her better judgement, Paige laughs a little at that. She should have expected that from you.
“Is that blackmail?” Paige questions. “Extortion?”
“Extortion?” you repeat, giggling. “You sound boring for a hero, Spiderwoman.”
“Sorry for trying to keep the city safe.”
At that, you turn your head again, grinning slyly at Paige. She wonders if you know how beautiful you look with the city lights behind you like this. “Yeah?” you whisper. “Is that why you’re up here trying to convince me to get down when you could be on the streets rescuing a kitten from a tree?”
Paige has no real answer for that. She’s suddenly thankful for the mask because she can feel her cheeks heating up under it, and she supposes she’s always going to be a little useless, given the way she breaks eye contact to look anywhere but your face.
“C’mon, don’t tell me you’re shy under that mask, Spidey,” you tease her gently, which just makes her blush deepen, her heart thundering against her ribcage. When she doesn’t respond, you relent a little, although not without adding, “For what it’s worth, I like that you’re…real. The people love a relatable hero.”
“The people?” Paige repeats, amused. “Is that your excuse for sitting in the dark and waiting for me to swing by just so you can write about my secrets in that article of yours?”
“Well,” you drawl, “I might be a little curious about you, too. But this is strictly business. How do you know about my article?”
Paige curses mentally. She hadn’t meant to let that slip, completely forgetting that you weren’t talking to Paige. You were talking to Spiderwoman, and Spiderwoman probably shouldn’t know about your extracurriculars.
“Is that really the question you want the answer to right now?” Paige asks instead. “I thought you’d want something more juicy.”
“Touche,” you concede, smiling. Paige scans your features again, willing her heart rate to calm down. You weren’t in any present danger, and questions were all you were here for. She shakes her head, lowering herself into a sitting position next to you. She leaves a reasonable amount of space in between your bodies, her legs dangling.
For a moment, neither of you say anything, staring down at the cityscape below. Cars look more like ants as they move through the streets, taxis parking themselves on the curbs as passengers wave them down. It’s so incredibly peaceful up here. Most things with you were, and Paige has to remind herself to be tactful and rational.
“So,” you begin, as though thinking to yourself. “How did Spiderwoman come to be? Are your abilities biological or does the suit do all the work?”
“Biological,” Paige answers steadily. “But the suit helps, a little. It’s a work in progress. My webshooters are designed to strengthen the natural webs so swinging is easier and I don’t…you know.” You nod sagely, brows shifting as though you’re thinking about her webs snapping mid-flight and causing her to plummet several stories to her death. “The suit is flexible and breathable. I’m working on making it fireproof, for, um, crime-fighting purposes.”
Paige doesn’t mention the real reason was because of the candle incident. She was taking that to the grave.
“Crime-fighting purposes,” you agree, smiling, and Paige flushes again. “Who knew Spiderwoman was so eloquent.” Paige rolls her eyes at that, shifting to get a little more comfortable on the edge. “But, speaking of…what drew you to crime fighting?”
Paige lets that question hang in the air for a beat. It’s not that she doesn’t have an answer. She does, and she knew why from that very moment she stopped that very first robbery. More often than not, her words fail her – there was a reason why you were the journalist between the two of you and why she was the one content to watch you shine from the shadows. “Well,” she begins, her tone contemplative. “I woke up one day and suddenly I have all of these new abilities. I can’t really explain how I got them or how they worked, but all I knew is that my life was changed. The first time I helped someone, it was like I just knew. I mean, if you have the capability to do good, then why don’t you? It’s not a choice. It’s like…”
“A responsibility,” you finish, and Paige nods.
“Some people can’t fight for themselves,” Paige says softly. “Not in a bad way, but like…ability. Circumstance. Environment. If we all took care of each other when we could, then I think the world would be a lot happier.”
“I like that,” you whisper. Paige turns her head towards you, and she finds that you’re already gazing at her. It feels like you’re seeing right through her – through the mask, the suit, everything. Something about the anonymity makes her feel more exposed than she would if she was sitting in front of you as Paige Bueckers and baring her soul. “Journalism is the same way, I think.”
“Is it?”
You nod. “I’m not, you know, fighting crime or anything. I write about it, though, and I write about the things people are going through and what it’s like. We are so connected as a society – through phones, social media, whatever, but it still feels like we don’t know each other. And just like some people can’t fight for themselves, some people can’t advocate for themselves or share their stories. Ability, circumstance, environment, like you said. Awareness is so important. I think that, if we knew our neighbors were struggling, then we could take care of each other, and the world would be a lot happier.”
“I like that,” Paige echoes, and the sincerity in her voice makes her feel so weak. She was so gone for you, and it’s times like these that she’s acutely aware of that fact. “Your job is probably more important than mine, if I’m honest.”
You shake your head at that. “No,” you say softly, and Paige cranes her head to look at you. “Nothing is more important than the other – jobs or people or whatever. I think we’re both needed.”
Paige quirks a small, affectionate smile at that, even though she knows you can’t see it through the mask. “I can get behind that.”
The both of you sit in a soft, contemplative silence, not in any rush to fill the void with more chatter. Paige knows you have more questions – you usually did, but you were always exceptional at understanding when was the right time to ask. She glances off into the distance, her eyes catching on the clocktower so far away, and she clears her throat softly. “I think it’s time for you to be getting home.”
This draws a small smile from you, and you glance at Paige, eyes dancing with mirth. “What, you’re making decisions for me now, Spiderwoman?”
“You have a lot to write about, don’t you?” Paige points out, grinning beneath the mask. “You should get a headstart on it.”
“Maybe,” you say noncommittally. “Maybe I’ll stay up here, do some soul searching or something.”
“Do I need to be worried about whether or not you’re actually gonna get down?”
“You’re a hero. Isn’t your job to worry?”
“Sure,” Paige concedes, her voice softening. “But I’d really like to not have to worry about you.”
And for that, you have no sharp rebuttal, nothing witty to say, no wisecrack to ease the mood. Paige worries if she’d said too much – if she crossed an unspoken boundary between hero and journalist, if she made you uncomfortable or gave herself away by how much she really cared for you.
But she can see the look in your eyes, and it has nothing to do with the enhanced senses and all to do with how well she knows you. She recognizes the surrender, how you understand there’s some level of care that Spiderwoman has for you, even if you don’t know who she is. She recognizes the acceptance, the confirmation you’ve given her without saying a single word.
Paige stands to her feet, holding her hand out to you. “Come on,” she says, trying to keep the nerves out of her voice. You glance up at her, your eyes twinkling. “I know a way down that’s quicker than the elevator.”
“You won’t drop me?” you tease, but you take her hand anyways, trusting. Paige lifts you to your feet, her arm wrapping respectfully around your waist, and your arms encircle her neck.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” she swears, meaning it. You don’t seem to pick up on the earnestness, the sheer amount of dedication behind her words, and she quirks a small, breathless little smile, hoping that you can’t feel the way her heart is hammering against her ribcage. “Make sure you write about this, too.”
Before you can say anything else, Paige lets her body tip back in a free fall, plummeting to the ground easily. Your laugh rings in her ears instantly and she knows that with better hearing or otherwise, she knows this is the most beautiful sound she’s ever heard in her life. Your arms tighten around her neck, holding on as the both of you zip through the air, and Paige can’t help but laugh, too, embracing the freedom and the way she feels for you and how each and every thump of her heart is surely matched with yours.
Towards the bottom of the fall, Paige flicks her wrist out, her webs arcing with perfect trajectory towards the Empire State Building’s brick walls. They latch on, pulling the both of you taut, and she uses the momentum to change her angle, swinging down 34th Street. Paige easily volleys from web to web, not letting her grip around your waist falter for a moment. Buildings pass in a blur of color, cars in explosions of sound, but all Paige registers is the elation in your laugh.
She wants to bottle this moment up forever, keep it tucked away under her pillow for the nights she misses you like she’s ever had the opportunity to have you. She wants to feel like this forever – the freedom, the trust in which you hold her with, how nothing is impossible and everything she’s ever wanted is just within reach.
But Paige knows she’s asking for too much, right now, and so she gradually begins slowing the speed of her swings, settling for more shallow and short-lived dips. Paige hooks a web on a streetlight, the tips of her toes dragging along the sidewalk below you as she guides you both to a gentle stop. She lets go of the web and just like that, everything is still.
Paige stabilizes you with two hands on your hips, unable to hold back a smile at the expression on your face and how windswept your hair is. You look like you have half a mind to take the elevator right back up and convince her for another trip back down, but Paige doesn’t give you the chance to try your luck.
“Next time you have questions,” Paige says gently, adjusting the way your jacket sits on your collar, “just ask. You don’t have to put your life on the line to get my attention.”
Your cheeks flush pink as though you’re blushing, but Paige doesn’t want to get her hopes up. It could just be the adrenaline from the swinging or the chill of the night. Still, you try for a coy, mischievous little smile. “Where’s the fun in that?” you whisper.
Paige’s lips twitch, amused. She steps away from you with considerable difficulty. “Have a good night,” she says, and the last thing she sees before she disappears into the night is your softening smile.
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