Chapter Text
I know you never meant to put him down
And even if you did, he sure deserved it
Peter supposed that dying in the chemistry lab made sense for him. Full circle or something like that.
His head spun, dizzying and nauseating, as he tried to catch his breath in vain. Despite his lack of blood sugar, his heart was pounding in his chest, the sight before him working like a catalyst straight out of hell. Literally.
"What's wrong Jerk-off-ski? Can't handle the heat?"
Max Jägerman — a very dead and very impossibly here Max Jägerman — loomed over him, blocking the one exit in the room. Peter hadn't been able to get a good look at Max when he and Steph were hauling ass to get away from him, but now there was no way out and nowhere else to look; he couldn't tear his eyes away.
Max's smile hadn't changed since he was alive; all teeth and wickedly sharp still. It was as starkly white as his rotting skin and sunken-in eyes. Pete could feel his blank, cloudy stare burning into his soul, sending a chill down his spine. His figure was slightly translucent, all hazy at the edges — though Peter wasn't sure if that was from his own blurring eyesight — and moonlight passed right through him like a sparkly illusion.
Like a bad dream. A waking nightmare. A ghost story that had come to life.
Ghosts weren't supposed to be real. They didn't make sense, scientifically speaking. That's what he'd told Richie after he'd run into the football field screaming his head off a few days ago, shaking like a leaf blower and nearly passing out from an asthma attack. It's what he'd said to Ruth when she had cried and curled up into a ball after rehearsal, jumping at every little noise with wide eyes. It's how he'd comforted them.
God, he'd been so full of shit.
"I have a hippo-thesis I've been meaning to test." Max lifted his hands as if to display the title. "'How hard is it to get Micropeter to piss himself with his tic-tac dick?' Let's experiment, bitch!"
Feebly, Peter still held hope that they were all just having a collective mental breakdown from their guilt or lack thereof. But that hope shrunk smaller and smaller as Max stalked towards him, an unnaturally wide grin on his face.
Peter swallowed, feeling cold sweat trickle down the back of his neck. Well, there were worse ways to go, he thought. He could be dying in Sycamore. Or Clivesdale. But dying to protect Stephanie Lauter? He could live with that (or technically, he could die with that, if he got into semantics).
And then — because the world hated Peter specifically — the door slammed open to reveal Steph, holding something that he couldn't make out through Max's not-quite see-through body. "Hey, assface!"
Max turned around to look at her, letting out a sharp laugh. "Oh, look who it is! Welcome to the party, Lauter! This one's gonna be a killer."
"Steph! What the fuck!" Peter hissed. "Why didn't you leave!"
"Shut it, Pete. I have a ghost to bust." With a grunt, Steph lifted up whatever she was holding and threw it at Max, hard.
That following moment could be divided into two split seconds. In the first one, he realized what Steph had thrown was a fire extinguisher, which he could now clearly see once it phased through Max without resistance. In the second one, Peter dodged as quickly as he could manage, as the fire extinguisher hurtled towards him instead. But Spankoffski's always tripped at the finish line, and it hit his shoulder before clattering to the floor.
"Son of a bitch!" he swore, clutching his now throbbing shoulder. He heard Steph gasp over Max's laughter.
"Oh shit– Pete!" she called out.
"FUCK."
"I was aiming for Max!"
"It's a fucking ghost Steph! They're ethereal beings!"
"Go long, Spankoffski!" Max jeered, still laughing. "Hell of a throw, Steph! I knew you had it in you to hit nerds."
Almost like a cartoon, a lightbulb lit up in Pete's brain. He glanced at the fire extinguisher on the floor before looking up at Max, gulping.
This was a bad idea. This was a terrible idea. But, quite frankly, Peter had been sick of Max's shit long before he'd died. Maybe third time's the charm when it comes to standing up to your bully, even in an ectoplasmic form.
"Hit me, then.”
Max slowly turned to look at him, gauntly face incredulous. "Huh?"
Pete stood as straight as he could manage with faux confidence, still holding his shoulder. "Let's see it, huh? Kick my ass!" His voice cracked but he pushed through. "You've beaten the shit out of me before, so just give it another go. Boom, easy target, Micropeter is wide open!" He wiggled his hips and immediately regretted it when he remembered Steph was here. Jesus. "Shove me in a locker, give me a wedgie, it's your pick, man.”
"Peter! What the fuck are you doing?" Steph hissed, both her and Max staring at him in utter confusion.
"Holy shit... are you actually into this shit? Did you get off whenever I hit you? Eugh!" His face scrunched in disgust, visibly shuddering. "It's no fun if you're volunteering for it. You're a fucking creep like your brother."
The mention of Ted made Pete defensive, and he took advantage of it. "Why, Max? Are you scared?" He steeled himself before trying (and failing) not to stutter. "... Bitch?"
In an instant, Max appeared right in front of Peter, blue veins cracking through his body. Pete tried to disguise his whimper into a nervous laugh. "Oh. Hey."
Max wasn't amused. His glare made Peter shiver. "Did I hear you right, Spankoffski? I'm the bitch?" He leaned in, uncomfortably close, and his mere presence made Pete's skin crawl. "You are so fucking dead."
Peter waited for a moment. Then another. "No. I'm not. You are." He looked him square in the eyes, for the first time since Pasquali's. "Hit me."
"I can't!" Max snapped. "I can't do shit! I pass through everything and no one can see me except for you fucking nerds that killed me and it sucks!"
A moment passed where no one said anything. Max finally stepped away from Pete, letting out an annoyed huff. "Least you could do is let me haunt your asses. You're fucking useless, Pete."
"Holy shit Pete, you're a genius!" Steph laughed, giddy and relieved. Pete felt his heart swell at both the sound and the compliment. She ran over to him before looking at Max. "And he outsmarted your spiritual dumbass."
Max glared at both of them, his frown emphasizing his cracked lips. "Fucking nerds. This isn't over."
He flipped them off with both hands as he dissipated into the air. And just like that, Max was gone. The other two took a moment to process, Steph eventually smiling at him. "Nice work, Spankoffski." Pete smiled back, his heart still racing but in a good way. "How did you figure it out?"
Explaining shit? Finally, something he was good at.
"Well, you hit me with the fire extinguisher, and then something else hit me: why did Max let Richie and Ruth go without a scratch? Max Jägerman would never give up a chance to make our lives hell." Peter shrugged and winced at the motion, his shoulder still throbbing. "I mean, he could've just been playing the long game in terrorizing us, and choosing when to be permeable, so I wasn't sure, but I figured it was worth a try."
Steph gawked at him. "So you guessed. You put your life on the line like that based on a fucking guess?" She shook her head at him. "You're crazy."
"Says the one that threw a fucking fire extinguisher at him!"
Steph laughed. "Hey, you're the brains and I'm the brawn."
"Hey," he said softly, "I wouldn't have figured it out without you."
Steph smiled at him, small and gentle, and Peter realized they were standing really close. Like, really close. He felt his face start to burn up as Steph leaned in, putting a hand on his—
"Mother fucker!" he shouted, his shoulder exploding in pain again. Steph jerked back instantly.
"Shit, shit shit shit I forgot, sorry!"
"FUCK.”