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The end of the universe begins, appropriately, on a Monday. Monday morning at 9:26 to be precise. If Peter had known the universe was ending in the morning, he wouldn't have wasted his last night bullshitting his way through an essay on The Great Gatsby. (For those interested few, his plans would've included spray painting a giant dick on Flash's bedroom window, taking a penny without leaving a penny, and petting all the dogs at the local animal shelter.)
Peter discovers the universe is ending, appropriately, while on the school bus. (Let's be real: forty-five loud, smelly teenagers stuffed like sardines in a five ton metal deathtrap without seatbelts feels like the end of the universe.) They're on a field trip to Oscorp. It's Midtown High's equivalent of the box factory. Just as rumblings of a teacher strike begin to foment, Principal Morita declares that it's time for yet another trip to Oscorp. While the teachers cheer and break out the margarita machines, the student body groans and schedules their own strike for the following day at dawn.
Peter muses to himself that, perhaps this time, he'll get bit by a radioactive billionaire and have the power of being rich. He's just leaning over to tell Ned this hilarious~~ joke when someone yanks on the hood of his jacket, pulling him back. He turns and meets the steely gaze of one Michelle Jones, fingers curled tightly on the brown fabric of his hood. His mouth opens to protest, but she cuts him off with a curt tilt of her chin. He follows her gaze and spots Betty Brant falling in line behind Ned. With the way the students have grouped themselves, Ned should end up sharing a seat and partnering with Betty.
How clever.
As soon as she is sure that he got the message, she lets go of his hood and waits until he continues before following him. She must have the same plan for herself and Peter. Not that he can blame her; not to brag or anything but, according to Ned, he is an A+ field trip partner. Actually, he should be thanking her. Behind him, he can clearly hear the boisterous boasting of Flash Thompson. He shudders at the thought of being partnered with him.
He gets on the bus and scores the seat in front of Ned. Michelle settles next to him. During the ride to Oscorp, Peter wonders if he should make conversation with Michelle and, after a long, meandering train of thought (in which the train completely derails), he wonders if he even knows how to make conversation in the first place. Luckily, Michelle interrupts his internal crisis to ask if he's okay (guess the darting eyes and panicked expression clued her in to the fact that he was not okay).
"Cool as a cucumber", he says in a way that's very uncool as a cucumber.
With a quirked eyebrow, she mutters, "That's debatable."
She returns to her book and, after that, Peter decides to give up speaking entirely.
He senses the danger before he sees it. It's a tingling to his spine, a faint sensation. The hair on his arm rises. Tires squeal. Cars crash. Panic erupts on the bus. Voices shake with fear. People start running from their cars, screaming.
He stands, but is otherwise completely immobile by the sight of the giant spaceship in the middle of New York. Terror seizes his body. His mind races with thoughts. He should find Aunt May. No, he should ensure the safety of his classmates first. Then go check out the spaceship. No, he should find Mr. Stark first. Ask him what to do.
Almost on instinct, he glances to his right and sees Michelle looking at him. All she says is, "Don't die."
The certainty of her words, along with the steely gaze, motivates him to act. He nods. He runs off and gets into deep shit. But it's his own dumbass fault because he knew what he was getting himself into and he did it anyways.
This seems like the appropriate time for a reboot of the universe. But nah, that's not how it works. Time marches on. New folks are introduced while the old ones fall by the wayside. There's no going back. Everything's changed now.
Exactly what's changed is still a mystery to Peter. As is most of the events of the past few... however much time passed. Time got wibbly-wobbly so it's hard for him recount the events within a proper context. Let's just say that it's a blur to him and move on. The point is, the universe doesn't end. And boy, is he glad. He didn't want his last thoughts to be, Mmm Whatcha Say. That would've been lame. He'll rehearse better for next time. Come up with some cool one-liners, practice his superhero pose, and work on his Will Smith impression.
(He doesn't want to cry so he jokes instead.)
He goes home to Aunt May's suffocating hugs and spends the weekend sleeping. Sleeping, inhaling all the food ever, and fielding questions from Ned. (Some questions are too difficult to answer but Ned has enough tact to know when to move on.) At several points, he thinks of Michelle and wonders if he should text her to see if she's alright. When he can't sleep one late night, he looks over their text conversations. His last text to her was about a school assignment. Her last text to him (which he did not answer) prominently featured the words "flaky" and "dickhead". And yeah, he's a flaky dickhead. (Honestly, not knowing if she's alright is a lot more bearable to comprehend than knowing that she's not.)
The sun rises on a new day and there's still school on Monday. Not even the very real and very almost possibility of the end of the universe warrants a school holiday. There's a level of irony and social commentary to be said about that.
Or something. He doesn't know. He's tired.
So, on Monday morning, he gets up, dresses, and heads for school. It's mostly out of habit but also out of the desire for normality. Somehow, school is the better alternative to sitting at home alone with his thoughts. He thinks that right up until he gets to school and reality smacks him in the face like a rotten mullet. The first thing he notices is that the halls seem less crowded than usual. Lots of kids must've taken today off and he pointedly avoids thinking anything but that. The second thing he notices is the injuries on some of the students. Arms and legs in casts; bandages on faces and necks; hollow eyes and dark circles. Peter himself walks with a slight limp but he knows that he's lucky.
(There's so many things that could've gone wrong.)
Ned meets him at his locker, animatedly prattling about how shitty it is that they still have school today despite, y'know, the universe almost ending.
"Do you think Principal Morita would let you skip if he knew you're an Avenger? Like you saved the universe and he won't let you go home? You think he'd let me skip too if he knew I was your Guy In The Chair? I'm like the second most important person on the team. Dude, I heard from Betty that his father fought alongside Captain America during the war. That oughta count for something right?"
Peter laughs and turns to pull Ned in for a hug. They'd only just seen each other on Saturday, but Peter hugs him tightly as students mill around them. The universe almost ended, everything's okay again, and he's here. He's alive. They hug until the warning bell rings.
"Dude... uncle... I can't breathe..." Ned weakly whispers, tapping his back.
Peter releases him, muttering an apology. They start to walk to class and Peter smiles, glancing at Ned from the corner of his eye. He shoots for casual and almost sticks the landing. "So. Betty, huh?"
A blush spreads across Ned's cheeks and Peter snickers. The next two classes roll by smoothly without incident or occurrence. It's a little weird to save the universe then be expected to analyze Angela's Ashes. But, eh whatever. What did he expect? A medal and an exemption from all future English essays? (Honestly, yeah.)
It's too much of a coincidence that they find each other during third period when he takes a bathroom break. He chalks it up to fate. He also chalks what he sees as her mouth widening to a smile as a trick of the eye. The bright sunlight pours through the high windows of the foyer. It's empty and quiet.
Silence descends upon the pair. Peter realises they're standing in the same spot that he and Liz stood when he asked her to homecoming. The soft glow from the trophy case highlights Michelle's features. Their eyes slowly inspect the other to make sure the other is truly fine. He sees no discernible injuries and feels strangely relieved by that. Michelle seems to relax as well from her examination.
She's the first to speak, coolly commenting, "I see you're not dead."
"Hold on, let me double check." His hands move across his chest, patting himself to prove to her that yes he is in fact not dead. "Yupe. It uh appears I'm still in the land of the living."
"Good."
"Eh, it's whatever. I have a test in Tarkovsky's that I didn't study for so." He sigh and makes a vague 'I don't know' gesture with his hands.
She taps a thoughtful finger to her chin and remarks, "Well his class isn't for another couple hours. You still have time to die. Although, with how ancient Tarkovsky is, he's probably on a first name basis with Death. Either way, you're up shit creek with no paddle." Her eyebrows waggle in time with her shoulders as she shrugs.
Despite the worried expression now creasing his brow, Peter snorts out a short laugh. "Alright, new plan. I run away, get a cheap Mexican face transplant, and become the Friendly Hawaiian Spider-Man. I'm sure I can still fight crime in flip flops." He kids but not completely.
Her feet shuffle side to side and she looks away. "I took his class last semester. I could um... I could lend you my study guides." She adds, quickly and softly, "Or, if you want, I could help you study at lunch. If you want."
"Could you? That'd be awesome. I need all the help I can get."
"Okay. Well. I'll see you at lunch then." She hesitates, eyes lingering on him before she abruptly turns on her heel and walks off. He's only a few steps away when she calls after him. He turns back. "By the way, just because you saved the universe doesn't mean I won't kick your ass if you skip practice."
He smiles. She smiles back.
Time marches on.