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Ben Reilly would have to admit that his years were catching up to him in ways he hadn’t foreseen. After the fallout with Silvermane, Hardy, and generally getting his ass kicked before the ‘day was saved’ and they found their ‘happy ending,’ Reilly had gotten a comfortable week nursing his wounds and chumming around with his friends.
That was until he woke up one morning, mind heavily cottoned, and went to push himself up from bed when he promptly fell 5 feet down to the ground. His arm sprang out to catch himself, but his silk failed to produce and he gave a curse. After landing on the wooden floor with a wince–having barely missed the night stand–he blinked through the pain to stare up at the remnants of some sort of web hammock he'd destroyed on his way down.
‘Well, that's where my supply went.’ he thought dizzily.
His mind chugged as he looked up at the sight, and it took him a few moments to realize his mind wasn't clearing up after fully waking up down on the ground. It still felt like his whole head had been stuffed with silk, perhaps doubled by a tentative concussion.
Suddenly, he sneezed, and he wrinkled his nose as spit came to fly back down onto his face. He wasn't getting sick, was he? He couldn't quite remember the last time that had happened, as it had to have been at least a year or two ago.
His muscles crunched and pistoned out as he tried to recover from the fall and generally sleep-stiffened limbs. Giving a low groan, Reilly stumbled into a crouched position, hands splayed on the ground, until he could force his knees up.
Absent-mindedly, he rubbed the back of his hand along his nose, scrubbing off a trail of snot he was only now noticing as the change in orientation allowed the snot to run free instead of trickling down his throat.
He grimaced, and meandered over to his bathroom where he could get cleaned up and stare at himself in the mirror. After using the sink, and then the toilet, and then sink once more he grabbed his tooth brush and faced his reflection.
His eyes were puffy, giving off the appearance of allergies, and he sniffed once more to ward off a new trickle of snot. He was sick, alright. Staring hard at his reflection, he tried to recall how men acted in films when sick, but his mind was too clouded, and he came up short.
Exhaling, he gave a whistling hiss of discontentment at the situation. If he was having trouble mimicking, how clear headed was he for investigative work?
He sneezed, and he promptly went over to blow his nose with some toilet paper. Ugh. After spending some more time practicing expressions in the mirror to uncertain success, Reilly crawled his way back to his bed.
Oops. He was supposed to walk, wasn't he?
Suffice to say, he wasn't sure he could make it to the office without someone stopping him along the way, either to offer a handkerchief or to question his behavior.
His time laying prone on bed was short-lived as his eyes caught back on his mess of webbing on the ceiling.
He was beginning to get hungry, and should brew himself a cup before he got distracted. Call Janet, too, let her know he wasn’t going to be in today.
Even with that in mind, Reilly found himself standing unbalanced on his bed before crawling up to rip the web hammock down, rolling it into a small ball before promptly stuffing it into his mouth and swallowing.
Afterward, he blinked and gagged in disgust. God, his impulses were getting the better of him. He poised his arms and gave a small shiver in disgust.
Instead of landing on his bed and scotching off, Reilly climbed along his wall till he could detach near where he’d fallen earlier. He looked around before his legs piloted him into the kitchen. With renewed vigor, he lunged for the small fridge and pulled it open to find nothing of substance.
Hissing, he regarded the half empty bottle of ketchup and jar of pickle juice with contempt. Where had all his meat gone? When was the last time he went to the store? It must've been before the whole Silvermane debacle, given his scant purchases due to lack of grocery money.
And while he now had the means to fund his stomach, Reilly grumbled at the idea of going to the store. He just knew that the squealing carts would dig daggers into his sensitive ears, and more than anything, he knew he wasn't in the right mind to make smart purchases. Lest he come home with 10 packs of hot dogs and nothing else.
He sighed, then sneezed, before deciding he’d pester Janet to buy him some breakfast. She was kind like that.
Unfortunately, between than thought and an indeterminate amount of time, Reilly had woken curled awkwardly against the grimy countertops next to a jar of warming pickle juice. Ugh.
His limbs sprang out and he stretched, feeling the angry pops along his spine all the way from his hips to his neck. Why’d he fallen asleep in the kitchen?
He rose to his feet shakily, and remembered he needed to go into work. He was late, and although that was a common occurrence, he recalled that he was supposed to meet Robertson at the office where they would all go somewhere for lunch. He couldn't pass up food, he was hungry!
And smelling of pickle juice.
He beelined to his room, crouching under his bed–iimmediately tempting a niagara falls of snot to rush out his nose–as he pulled free the suitcase holding The Spider.
He’d put it on and make it to lunch in time! Although, he had no clue what time it really was, but that wasn't a thought that occurred to him then.
He slipped the disguise on with minor hassle before giving a once over around the streets, deeming it safe to climb out. He tried at his silk, but it still wouldn't answer him as he grumblingly scaled down his building and took to walking around like everyday people.
‘Don’t forget to behave!’ his mind reminded him sharply, and he smoothened his movements so he didn't look like some sort of automaton chugging along, remembering to lower his arms to his sides where they had moments prior, been curled in front of his chest like a T-rex, or, spider.
He paid no mind to various shouts going ‘Hey, it’s The Spider! Hey! Spider!’ and nearly walked into traffic a few times when his own sneeze scared him, but somehow he made it to the newly named Reilly and Ruiz office in relatively one piece.
The door crashed open, causing one Robertson and one Janet to jolt and whip their heads over to Reilly.
“Look who’s made it at the grand hour of 3 PM.” Janet deadpanned, and Robertson gave an agreeing hum of annoyance in Reilly’s direction.
“And as The Spider, nonetheless.” Robertson quipped.
“Yes, yes, that's me. Janet, dear, are we still on for breakfast?” Reilly asked, and then jumped a foot in the air as the office door slammed back shut.
She simply rolled her eyes, turning to scribble something on some paper. “We were never on for breakfast. Now, lunch, yes, but that was… 3 whole hours ago.”
“The Spider is hungry, Janet.” he sniffled, and she gave him a stern look.
“Are you still hammered, at 3 PM?” Robertson interrogated, causing Reilly to hum and lift his mask up enough to check his breath.
“If pickle juice counts, then sure.”
Both quirked an eyebrow, sending each other a dubious look, and watched as Reilly waltzed over to lean against the wall near the two.
“It seems as if I’ve come across some deathly ailment. The sort that makes you want to fill your nose with stones to stop the leakage.”
The two’s split second of shock gave way to more dubious looks.
“If you get snot all over the inside of your mask, I’m not explaining it to the dry cleaners. I'm not touching it at all!” Janet followed up her thought with disgusted urgency.
“Ah, I douse it in my sink anyway.” he waved a hand in dismissal, “And anyway, I’m hungry. Will you get me a big plate of toast and sausage links, 8 of them, please?”
“8 sausage or 8 toast slices?” Robertson muttered to himself, but Reilly heard it anyway.
“In that case, 8 of everything. We’ve got the dough for it now, huh?”
“Not if you keep blowing through it on breakfast.” Janet offered dryly.
“I’m using my powers again, it makes me hungry, you know, doing hero stuff or whatever.”
The two sighed, but Janet rose from her seat anyway.
“Hey, wait. Don't leave me alone with him when he's sick!” Robertson whisper-yelled, “You have experience with him drunk, not me!”
“That's a fat lie,” Janet retorted in the same whispered tone, “You’ve been his best friend for how long now? But fine, I’ll stay, because you’ll probably feed him cigarettes to clear his nose out rather than actually taking care of him.”
Robertson opened his mouth to say something more, but closed it after a second with a large frown.
“Since you want to go, you can pay for it with your newspaper budget.”
Rolling his eyes, he gave a quick goodbye to the other two and made his exit.
“Now, take that mask off. You look stupid with it like that.” Janet followed up a minute later, having spent some time thinking about her life choices.
After ripping it off, Janet was privy to the state of the man’s face. It was difficult to tell how sick he was from his voice alone, but his watery, puffy eyes and reddened nose told of real sickness, not drunkenness.
She exhaled a deep breath, wondering if she should grab something from the store as soon as Robertson got back, maybe a Catarrh remedy to help before the snot gave Reilly a sore throat.
“Have you taken anything yet?” she asked first.
“Mmm. Pickle juice.” he offered, an amused lilt to his words. He sounded a bit loopy, if she was honest.
Yeah, some Catarrh medicine would be good.
She watched with pursed lips as his eyes unfocused and slowly, his arms raised up to oddly frame his face, elbows sticking out.
Clearing her throat, she watched as, and he didn't jolt, but he did snap to attention and quickly snap his arms back down to lean against the wall.
“You’re being very… spidery.” she tested the word out, comparing his behavior when sick to when he was blackout drunk, but even then he didn't act quite like this.
“It's easy to forget.”
“Forget what? That you have powers?” she asked quietly in response to the more sensitive tone he’d offered, one that shocked her.
“That I’m human.”
Huh. That wasn't an idea that Janet was equipped with dealing with. She frowned.
“You seem pretty human to me.”
Reilly chuckled at that, turning to stare out the window. His neck was at a sharp, uncomfortable angle as he did so, and she wondered if it was another subconscious thing of being spider-like.
“Why don't you sit down before you spread your sickness everywhere.” she decided to say, motioning him towards his office where he could sit and eat his food once Robertson got back.
“And leave me alone?” he pouted sarcastically.
“Well, unless you want to help me with the paperwork I’m doing because you came in late today and left everything to me.”
“Ahh, but we’re a team now. You aren't my secretary.”
Shaking her head, she sighed, “Should’ve just quit when I had the chance.”
“But Janet…” he pouted even more exaggerously, the sight only becoming more pathetic as he sniffed miserably.
“Fine, I'll roll your chair out here.” she decided, doing just that.
Reilly relaxed into the seat with a sniff. “I think I’ll be needing all those pretty soon,” he motioned for the disposable handkerchiefs.
She nodded, reaching over to hand him the remainder of the box, watching as instead of rising from his chair the last inch, the box of Kleenex stuck to the tips of his finger pads.
In an odd manner, she felt a bit pleased with herself that he wasn’t trying to mask his instincts around her now. He deserved to feel comfortable around his colleagues.
Unfortunately, she figured the reasoning was that he was too sick to mask it, similar to his drunken mannerisms.
Maybe, once Robertson got back and Reilly ate, the two could accompany the sick man home and stop by the store on the way. She’d never been to his house, but she knew Robertson could show her the way, and they were bound to have some small store in whatever direction they had to go from central New York.
“Any clients come in today?” Reilly asked, the first professional thing he’d said since he came in today.
“As a matter of fact, yes,” she began, watching as he watched her.
In his distraction, it seemed as if he was trying to curl into the seat, attempting to raise his legs, but either not flexible enough, or lacking the space on the chair to fold into himself.
She quirked a brow as an odd, inhuman hiss whistled past his throat and he let his legs fall in disappointment. Instead, his arms folded up so that they were poised at his chest.
Changing her focus, she turned to her notes of the day and gave a quick summary of everything Reilly needed to know. Thankfully, they were some things she could do herself, and the rest could wait until Reilly felt better.
A fly buzzed near her head and she tried to swat it away. Reilly… was tracking it with piqued interest.
‘Good timing,’ she thought. She wasn't sure what she'd do if her ex-boss lunged forward and messed the desk up trying to eat a damn fly.
“Oh good, I was thinking about eating these if it took any longer.” Reilly held up a Kleenex, nodding to it before blowing his nose long and exaggeratedly.
‘He was doing a lot more than trying to eat the Kleenex.’ she thought, bemused.
“Oh you better be greatful. I practically ran here.”
“What you mean is, you missed the first bus.” Reilly countered.
“Just eat your food so you can shut that mouth.” Robertson grumbled.
Reilly didn't need to be asked again, opening the newspaper soaked with the sausage oil and the buttery toast wrapped up in some more. He had to take deep, gasping breaths as he ate vigorously, making a mess on the desk and trying to breathe around his stuffed and running nose.
Janet looked on with thinly veiled disgust.
“It better be good because I had to convince them to let me take it to go.” Robertson mentioned, causing Janet to give him a look as if to say ‘Does it look like he likes it?’
“It’s perfect.” Reilly gasped, snot beginning to trickle down his nose. He grabbed a fistful of Kleenex to wipe his hands and bring them up to his nose to wipe and blow it.
After he finished, Janet brought up, “Well, you’ve come here to get some free food, so I think it’s about time we get you home to sleep. God knows I don't want you messing up any of the work and having to come back to it later.”
Reilly grumbled at the thought of standing up. Now that he'd eaten, he was feeling very tired and sluggish.
“I'd rather not.” he deadpanned, stretching more languidly along his chair.
“You act quite childish, when sick, you know.” Robertson huffed.
“Mm, blame it on the trauma, or something.”
Robertson and Janet blinked in surprise at that. Well, they didn't deny that was a factor.
As Reilly’s gaze distanced, thankfully from sleepiness, the man attempted to crawl fully into the chair once again.
“I was thinking we could go to the store as we took Reilly home, and one of us could drop in to get some cold medicine along the way.”
“No…” Reilly groaned belatedly, “Just let me sleep here.”
Janet sighed, “Reilly, we need to get you home before it gets dark. I don't think you’re in a good state if something happens on the way there.”
“Ahh, but Silvermane is gone now. It’s safer than ever.”
“For now,” Robertson piped in, “This should be about the time that oppressed gangs rise up without Silvermane to worry about.”
Reilly grumbled in response, sniffing wetly. That was his quiet fear he was trying not to think too hard about. It felt easier for him to just put the suit up again, but he had to prevent even worse people taking advantage of the gap in the hierarchy, even with the mayor trying to prevent it.
Ugh. He’d rather go hibernate. Reilly yawned as if to prove his inner thoughts.
“Alright, let’s get going then. Before you contest it anymore.” Janet whispered the last part to herself.
“Wait a minute.” Reilly realized, suddenly. “Why were you still here, Robbie, even though lunch was a dud? Were you worried about me?”
Robertson rolled his eyes. “Yes, that's exactly why. We were just conversing about sending out a search party in case the aforementioned gangs really did start showing up.”
“Awe, you care.” Reilly said sarcastically, and yet an odd chitter could be heard from his teeth.
“Stop stalling, boys.” Janet tapped her foot, and Reilly rose from his chair like the animated dead; limbs moving about in a piston-like, arachnoid motion.
The motion–not quite perfected for his human anatomy–gave Reilly a head rush, and he swayed briefly on his feet. Robertson had stepped forward just in case.
“You’ve got some T-rex arms there, Reilly.” Robertson mentioned as he grabbed Reilly’s discarded mask between two fingers just in case it was sticky with sweat or something.
Reilly lowered his arms with a sigh as they entered the streets filled with smoky, stinky New York air. The vibrations of the cars and their engines quickly assaulted his ears, and he wanted to raise his arms in a threat display.
Alas, he focused all his remaining brain cells on acting human as he followed in between Robertson and Janet. The journey was mostly a blur, one which Janet had to remind him multiple times to stand straight and act normal during. As such, from one point to another Janet had acquired some cold medicine and now all three of them were at the door to Reilly’s place.
Oh. That might be an issue, huh?
“I think I came through the window.” Reilly confirmed as he patted his empty pockets, void of keys.
“Oh, you.” Janet sighed. “Are you going to be able to climb in okay?”
Probably… not. But he'd manage eventually. He didn't want to use his silk right now when he'd been having issues with it today.
He sneezed something awful, and the immediate snot trail along his face kicked him into action. They hadn't thought to have brought the handkerchiefs; he'd just blessedly managed not to snot everywhere on the way back.
“Wait here,” he decided, and promptly went to stumble down the stairs and skidded to turn the corner of the building.
“Fuck me.” he muttered as the snot followed the curves of his face and reached his upper lip. Gross.
He scrabbled at the brick wall for a few minutes, before finally heaving himself up enough to reach his window. Kicking off against the brick, he tumbled into his open window with a loud thud.
He laid there for a moment, wondering if he should just sleep instead, when a knock to the door reminded him of his snotty state and colleagues at the door.
“Coming!” he hollered, bouncing upwards in a motion that made his body protest. He stumbled to the bathroom to wipe his face and blow his nose, before coming over to open the door.
On the other side was an inpatient Janet and a worried Robertson holding out the container of Catarrh remedy.
“Take some of this, okay? And get some rest now. Call me in the morning next time, I can't have you coming in with your cold or whatever spider disease you got.” Janet whispered the last part conspiratorily after having looked around the empty hall.
“Mmm, thanks.” Reilly nodded, grabbing the container greedily. Now that he’d gotten a full stomach, there was nothing he wanted more than to go to bed.
“We’ll reschedule lunch,” Robertson offered instead, and Reilly nodded his dizzied head in an attempt to end the conversation sooner.
“Yeah, yeah, thanks and goodbye.” He shut the door on their faces.
Janet and Robertson exchanged a look, one which they both understood to mean, ‘It might be some interesting few days if he gets any sicker.’
They both sighed, and turned down the hall to head in the directions of their houses.
Reilly, on the other hand, was sleepily spinning a new bed along his ceiling, cold medicine forgotten.
He chittered sleepily, crawling up into his new bed and raising his arms and feet to protect his prone stomach. Between the brain fog and his full stomach, he passed out in mere seconds.