Michelle was hot. Her skin was burning and everything felt a little too loud and bright, but she didn't dare mention it to Peter. With his eyes closed and his head against the wall, she didn't want to worry him when he was trying so hard not to.

It had been her who insisted on ignoring whatever she'd been injected with and she was not going to be the one to bring it back up. Certainly not when there was an open wound in Peter's side.

At first, she hadn't felt any different. She'd covered Peter's side with her hoodie―thankful she'd been wearing one to begin with―and focused on keeping pressure on the gunshot wound. It wasn't until it began to show signs of healing that she started to feel strange.

She could feel sweat beading on her forehead as Peter's side finally stopped bleeding. As it slowly began to close, her neck prickled and she felt something whisper danger. When she glanced toward the door, though, it was still closed. Peter hadn't even opened his eyes.

"MJ?"

She turned back to Peter to see him watching her with a small frown.

"You're not bleeding anymore," she told him, setting her bloodied hoodie aside to show him the closed wound. "I'm sure it still hurts, but as long as you don't―"

"You're sweating," Peter muttered. His hand found hers. "I told you to tell me if anything happened."

"It's a new development," Michelle assured him. She wiped her arm across her forehead to rid it of sweat and Peter's frown deepened.

"Didn't you have a cut here?" His fingers brushed the skin above her eye. "It's gone."

"What?"

Michelle reached up to feel where he'd indicated the cut used to be, but there wasn't so much as a bump. Peter watched her with an unreadable expression as her fingers moved to where the needle had been injected into her neck. There wasn't a mark, not even a bruise that hurt to poke at.

"What?" Michelle whispered, wiping again at her forehead. "What the―"

Her eyes snapped up to Peter's, but he still looked confused. She held up her hand between them.

"Arm wrestle," she demanded. Peter's eyes narrowed.

"Em, you know that's―"

"Just humor me, nerd," she said, grabbing his hand and holding it up between them. "It's just a theory."

Michelle wasn't exactly sure what to expect, but at least she didn't look half as surprised as Peter did when she slammed the back of Peter's hand into her thigh.

"What the hell?" he exclaimed. Grabbing her hand again, he said, "I thought you were kidding!"

"I'm testing a theory," she said shortly, readjusting her hold on his hand. "Give me all you got, tiger."

He did.

At first, he held off, but Michelle narrowed her eyes at him and pinched his arm with her free hand and that was enough to convince him to actually fight back. With a furrowed brow and a frown, Peter stared as Michelle pushed against his hand. Grunting, Peter pushed back, only failing when he pulled his side and groaned in pain.

"I'm dreaming, right?" Peter asked, rubbing his side and looking up at her. "I haven't lost an arm-wrestling match since before freshman year."

"You also haven't had your blood drawn since then," Michelle murmured, eyeing the spot on his neck where he'd been stabbed with a needle their first day.

Peter's brow furrowed. "Wait, you don't actually think..."

He trailed off and Michelle nodded.

"Run me through how you feel," Peter told her.

Michelle did, starting with the burning fever. She mentioned the prickling under her skin, the persistent hum of danger, and the way his heartbeat seemed to echo in her ears.

"At least, I'm assuming it's yours," she told him, "cause mine is racing."

Peter nodded. "Yeah, I hear it."

"So..." Michelle glanced at his still healing side. "What did you do? You know―" She gestured towards herself― "to fix the whole 'oh my god I feel like I'm dying' thing?"

"Well, I, uh, I slept it off," Peter said, scratching at the back of his neck sheepishly. "To be fair, it was in better conditions than this, so the whole danger-sense―May calls it my Peter tingle, but please don't―wasn't a problem."

Michelle stared at him.

She was not tired. She was actually quite the opposite. Everything in her told her to leave and she was burning up from her fever, but they were limited. Peter still had a hole in his side and she had the sinking suspicion that if she tried to stand, she'd get too dizzy and tip over.

"Sleep it off?" she echoed doubtfully. Peter nodded. "I don't―think I can, Peter."

"That's okay," he assured her. Reaching forward, he carefully wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his chest. "We'll just―We'll just sit here. Together. And wait it out."

It was a bit of an awkward position and her back was to the door, but Peter's scent was stronger than she'd noticed before and it was reassuring. His arm was warm around her shoulders and even though she was burning up from the fever, she didn't want to move.

"We'll just both focus on getting better," Peter murmured, resting his chin on her head. "It'll be like a study sesh but, you know, with higher stakes."

Michelle snorted, burying her face deeper in the crook of his neck and smiling to herself.

"Alright, tiger," she hummed softly.

She had a fever and her ears were ringing, but somehow she found herself dozing. There was a prickling sense of danger that never seemed to let her sleep fully, but Peter would run his fingers down her spine or mutter something in her ear and the feeling would subside for just a moment.

By the time she finally stopped feeling like her skin was on fire, the wound in Peter's side had closed.

Her eyes fluttered open, but with her face still buried in Peter's neck, she couldn't see much. The hum of danger grew stronger, though, and even with the sound of Peter's heartbeat so close to her ears, she could hear footsteps down the hall.

"How do you feel?" Peter whispered as she pulled back. "Cause, like, I know it's not great timing, but―"

"They're coming," Michelle finished with a sigh. "I know. I hear them too."

"How're you doing?" Peter repeated. He brushed her hair back from her forehead and Michelle didn't miss the flecks of dried blood that floated to the ground.

"The fever's gone," she said. She grimaced. "Not a fan of the heightened senses, though."

"Yeah." Peter smiled. "You get used to it."

"God," Michelle groaned. She dropped her head back to his shoulder. "How did you do this?"

"Under better circumstances," Peter reminded her. Michelle rolled her eyes. "Before they get here, I should probably mention that I have a semblance of an escape plan."

Michelle pulled back from him sharply and scowled. "They're seconds away from the door and you're only just now―"

"I know! It's not ideal!" Peter exclaimed, raising his hands in surrender. "It's just―You were asleep and now they're here and it's not really a plan, it's more of a―"

"Tell me, Parker," she hissed. Mr. Hide-A-Name and his guards were seconds from reaching their cell and even though Peter was a notoriously fast talker, she doubted he could tell her a full plan in the limited time they had left.

"It's really more of a 'come up with it as we go' sort of thing," Peter said quickly, eyes flicking toward the door. "But you've got the whole spider thing now―and I totally apologize for springing this on you, it's completely unfair―"

"Parker!"

"Right!" Peter stood, pulling her up with him as he said, "Really just―Follow my lead, okay? That whole spider tingle thing is a godsend so like, do what it says and―"

"We're gonna die," Michelle growled, turning toward the door.

"We'll be fine," Peter said. The lock began to turn and he turned to her desperately. "Promise me you'll go, though, okay? If it comes down to it―"

"No," Michelle refused, grabbing his hand tightly. "We do it together: ride or die."

Peter grimaced and was in the middle of telling her that he really didn't think that was the note they should end on when the door was pushed open and the prickling sense of danger turned into an overwhelming warning.