[Third Person POV]
Peter leaned casually against the edge of Gwen's desk, arms folded across his chest.. Gwen sat in her rolling chair, one elbow propped against the armrest and a single finger resting thoughtfully against her temple. Her eyes, sharp and faintly amused, followed Peter as if studying a particularly fascinating specimen.
"So," Gwen began slowly, "let me get this straight." She leaned a little closer, eyebrows raised, her tone dripping with mock disbelief. "You want me to take time out of my very busy day so I can help your other girlfriend's mother learn how to fly… with wings?"
Peter winced. "Okay, wow—when you say it like that, it sounds… I don't know—awful. Like, really awful." He scratched the back of his cheek and offered a strained, sheepish smile, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
Gwen tilted her head and smirked, clearly enjoying every second of his discomfort. "Mm-hm. That's because it is awful." She let the silence hang just long enough for Peter to squirm before she finally broke into a quiet chuckle. "Relax, Pete. I'm messing with you. I just wanted you to hear how absurd your request actually sounds out loud."
Peter exhaled in visible relief. "So… you'll do it?" he asked hopefully, his voice almost boyish in its eagerness.
Gwen spun lazily from side to side in her chair, rolling her eyes with exaggerated flair. "Obviously. Honestly, this sounds way too fun to pass up. I've never seriously considered the biomechanics of someone requesting the flight abilities of a bird. The genetic modifications alone are fascinating."
"But," Gwen continued with a teasing lilt, "before I start, you have to tell me—what animal did Hawkgirl request?"
Peter froze mid-breath, his eyes widening in realization. His knees buckled dramatically and he collapsed onto all fours, clutching his head.
"I'm creating the entire freaking Justice League…" he groaned.
"Took you long enough to notice," Gwen said with a musical chuckle, peeking over the edge of her chair to grin down at him. "So what's next? Should we give her a giant spiked mace too? You know—just to really complete the aesthetic?"
"At this point you're just making fun of me," Peter said pitifully.
"Glad you're catching up," Gwen replied smoothly. Pushing herself up from the chair, she stretched her arms overhead. "Now, are you going to stay down there and mope, or are you actually going to help me out?"
Peter kicked himself back to his feet with a gymnast's grace, brushing imaginary dust from his jeans. "What do you need?"
"Before, we would have needed to make shady calls to the black market to get rare animal blood samples," Gwen said, strolling toward a row of metal drawers. She tugged one open and produced three empty syringes, their tips gleaming under the lab light. "But now that we have portals, I need you to head out into the wilderness and collect the samples yourself." She handed him the syringes with a small, knowing smile.
Peter accepted them reluctantly, holding the fragile tubes. "Wait—can't we just send the spider-bots? They love this kind of field trip."
Gwen pivoted to face him, one eyebrow arched in mock severity. "Are you… disobeying my orders, Mr. Parker?"
Peter immediately straightened like a soldier at attention. "No ma'am," he said crisply, voice cracking just slightly.
"Good boy." Gwen patted his cheek in a affectionate gesture that only deepened the foolish grin stretching across his face. Leaning forward, she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, her voice softening to a playful murmur. "Now hurry back, you doofus. And try not to get mauled by anything."
Peter gave a sharp, overdramatic salute. "Yes, ma'am."
A shimmering blue portal opened behind him with a low whoomph, spilling jungle-scented air into the lab. Peter stepped backward into it, disappearing with a final wave.
---
The humid air of the rainforest wrapped around him like a damp blanket the instant he emerged. Peter inhaled deeply, the earthy smell of wet leaves and moss filling his lungs. High above, shafts of sunlight pierced through the dense canopy, scattering golden light across the emerald landscape.
"Alright," he muttered, crouching low before springing upward into the towering trees, "time to play Pokémon Ranger."
Spider-Man swung effortlessly from vine to vine, releasing exaggerated monkey calls as he soared through the dense jungle. Slapping a passing tree trunk for extra dramatic effect. He grabbed a thick vine and let out a full-throated Tarzan yell, the sound echoing wildly across the rainforest.
High above the treetops, Spider-Man shot upward in a graceful arc, cupping his hands over his eyes like makeshift binoculars. He scanned the dense greenery below, spotted nothing, and plummeted back into the leaves with a theatrical groan.
A few trees over, he sprang upward again, twisting mid-air as he searched. "Where are you, you feathery speed demon…"
Then, through a break in the branches, he finally saw it—a sleek Peregrine falcon gliding elegantly through the air, wings cutting the wind like sharpened blades. Peter's eyes lit up. "Gotcha!"
With a flick of his wrist, a shimmering portal opened midair just ahead of the falcon. The startled bird shot through it—and directly into Peter's waiting arms. "Hello, little birdy," he cooed triumphantly, tightening his grip.
The falcon, however, had other plans. It exploded into a flurry of furious screeches, wings thrashing.
"Whoa—hey—easy there!" Peter yelped, wrestling with the feathered missile. "This would be so much easier if you'd just cooperate!"
The bird pecked at his face with pinpoint precision. "Ahhh! Not the face, not the face! My eyes! MY EYES!"
With one last desperate lunge, Peter managed to secure a blood sample before the bird wriggled free and vanished into the jungle with an indignant shriek. He collapsed onto the forest floor, panting "Hehehe—just kidding, buddy. Thanks for the donation!" he called as he let the falcon dart back into the sky.
---
Minutes later, Spider-Man burst through the sand, sprinting with exaggerated, cartoonish effort. His breath came in comically overdone pants as he clutched two tiny vials of precious blood in his gloved hands.
"Hoo! Hoo! Haaaaa! Haaaaa!" he cried, half to keep his rhythm and half because it felt appropriate.
The ground beneath him began to quake. Leaves shivered violently. A low rumble swelled into a deafening roar as an ear-piercing trumpet echoed across the Savannah.
Peter risked a glance over his shoulder—and froze.
An entire herd of elephants thundered through the undergrowth behind him, their colossal forms shaking the earth with every step.
Peter was sprinting for his life, lungs burning and legs pumping as the ground trembled beneath him. A thunderous stampede of elephants roared across the floor behind him, their trumpeting bellows echoing through the trees like war horns. Birds scattered in terrified bursts, along with the call of other animals.
"It was only a blood sample!" Peter shouted over his shoulder. "There's no need to be stingy! You've got gallons upon gallons of blood to spare—what's a few missing drops?!"
The elephants answered with an ear-splitting chorus of trumpets that rattled his eardrums.
"Okay, that's a no!" Peter wheezed, vaulting over a boulder. "Message received!"
…
Far from the chaos of the jungle, Spider-Man now found himself clinging to the sheer side of a towering mountain, every breath coming in ragged gasps. Cold wind whipped at his mask as he scaled upward, fingers trembling on jagged stones slick with mist.
"Don't look down, don't look down, don't look down…" he muttered like a mantra, sweat mixing with the mountain's chill.
He reached for a protruding rock, only to feel it crumble under his weight. "Ahhh!!" Peter screamed as his foot slipped and gravity yanked him downward. In a desperate blur, bone claws erupted from his knuckles with a sharp snikt! and he slammed them into the cliffside, the impact jolting his shoulders. Pebbles rained down into the foggy abyss below.
Dangling by one arm, he started mock-sobbing. "Why is this happening to me?!"
With another grunt he extended the claws from his other hand, stabbing them deep into the rock and climbing again—one agonizing stab at a time. By the time he reached a small ledge wide enough to rest on, he swung a leg over first, flopping onto the perch like a tired fish and rolled onto his back.
"Phew… at least I'm safe and sound," he exhaled, chest heaving.
A deep, low growl answered him.
Peter froze. Slowly, ever so slowly, he tilted his head. A mountain lion stood barely a foot behind him, golden eyes locked on his every movement, tail flicking with predatory interest.
Peter's throat tightened as he forced an awkward smile. "G-good kitty?" he said in a trembling voice.
The lion's ears twitched. Its muscles coiled.
Peter gulped audibly. "…Right. Bad kitty."
…
A burst of blue energy lit up Gwen's lab as Peter stumbled back inside. He was a wreck. Mud streaked his suit. Leaves clung to his shoulders at random angles. Twigs stuck out of his mask like improvised antennas. Thin claw marks scored his arms and face, and his shoulders sagged beneath the weight of pure exhaustion.
"Honey, I'm home…" Peter croaked, dragging his feet across the lab floor.
Gwen barely managed to turn her head before collapsing against her desk, laughing so hard tears sprang to her eyes. "Oh my God," she gasped between wheezes. "Peter, just what the hell were you doing out there?!"
Peter held up the vials of precious animal blood like a war hero displaying hard-won trophies.
Still giggling, Gwen strode over and plucked the samples from his muddy hands. "These are perfect," she said brightly, though her grin gave away her amusement. "Also, you're cleaning up this mess. You know I don't tolerate chaos in my lab, Pete."
Peter groaned, slumping against the counter. "After risking life and limb, surviving stampedes, mountain lions, and talons to the face, this is the thanks I get? So this is married life. Tragic."
Gwen smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Married life? I don't see a ring on my finger, Mr. Parker."
Peter snapped his fingers, conjuring a small cleaning spell that whisked away mud and debris with a faint sparkle. His suit dissolved in a shimmer of as he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Gwen from behind. He rested his chin on her shoulder, pressing a warm kiss to her cheek.
"Ring, ceremony—those are just decorations," he murmured softly. "In my heart, you're already my wife."
Gwen's cheeks flushed crimson despite her best attempt to look unimpressed. She rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. "You are such a cornball," she said with a breathless laugh.
"And you love it," Peter whispered, tightening his embrace.
"Maybe," Gwen admitted, leaning back against him with a tiny, contented sigh.
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