Chapter 7: "I Didn't Sign Up for Babysitting… Or Blushing"
In which Peter discovers enhanced memory, Jessica spills her soul (and number), and awkward taxi rides become surprisingly sweet.
"Anyway, we're done here for now. I'll see you guys later—peace out."
THWIP!
One web shot later, he launched himself off the edge of the building… and vanished.
Literally.
Like, poof, now-you-don't.
Down below, NYPD officers stood slack-jawed with raised rifles, blinking as though they had just hallucinated the whole encounter. Jessica Jones, who'd finally gotten her legs back under her, stared skyward with the expression of someone whose life had just turned upside down, sideways, and backward.
"Did… he just go invisible?" one cop asked.
Jessica exhaled. "Yeah. He's new."
Meanwhile, Peter swung through the city like a silent ninja cosplaying a spider. The wind rushed past his face, and below, the lights of New York shimmered in all their chaotic glory.
Then Naruto's voice piped in like a casual radio DJ on a chakra frequency.
"You'll need these tricks—stealth gives you the advantage."
Peter frowned mid-swing.
"Wait, but… aren't heroes supposed to be bold and obvious? I mean, Captain America doesn't exactly sneak around."
"You're trying to save people, not win a one-on-one fighting tournament."
"Right… my mistake," Peter muttered, realizing how dumb that sounded in hindsight.
"Don't worry. You would've figured it out the hard way after your first supervillain threw a dumpster at your face."
Peter squinted. "That sounds... oddly specific."
"Let's just say I've trained a few loudmouths before."
They landed softly in a dark alleyway tucked between two buildings that smelled vaguely of pizza, questionable decisions, and discarded ambition.
The sleek suit melted off Peter like shadow evaporating in light. In its place, his regular jeans-and-hoodie combo reappeared, looking perfectly unwrinkled because chakra is basically dry cleaning magic.
Peter stretched his arms… and then froze.
"…Wait a minute."
He lifted his shirt and spotted something strange: a crisp white spider tattoo near his ribs, with a tiny blade symbol woven into the abdomen.
"Did I just get a tattoo?!"
"It's a storage seal," Naruto said with a casualness that only made it worse. "That's where your suit is now. Press and think, and poof—it appears."
Peter blinked rapidly.
"I—what—okay, I was asleep when this happened, right? You didn't actually knock me out to ink me, did you?!"
"Technically, your body was just unconscious for chakra synchronization. No needles involved."
Peter groaned. "So… magical stealth tattoo. Got it."
"Come on, it's practical. And sexy."
Peter looked down again.
It was kind of cool.
Still.
"People are gonna see this at the beach. Or the gym. Or worse, if Aunt May ever walks in without knocking, I'll have to explain why I suddenly joined the Yakuza."
"It's invisible to non-chakra users unless you will it to appear. Relax."
Peter sighed in relief, though a part of him still wanted to file a formal complaint to the Hero Upgrade Council—or, at least, demand a cool name for it.
He tugged his hoodie back down and started walking again.
The night was young. The city buzzed around him. And inside his head was a casually snarky ninja ghost-mentor who kept dropping wisdom between sarcastic comments.
"I can't believe my life has turned into a weird anime."
"Correction—ninja anime. Big difference."
Peter smiled despite himself.
-----------------------
Peter had just finished internalizing the whole "tattoo storage seal surprise" thing and was about to call it a night when—
BAM!
A human missile collided with him at terminal velocity.
If he had been a normal guy, he'd be street pizza right now. But thanks to the wonders of chakra, enhanced reflexes, and that ever-faithful Spidey-Sense, Peter didn't dodge.
He caught her.
Unfortunately, "catching" in this case also meant getting slammed against the brick wall behind him like a folded lawn chair.
Still, he stayed standing.
"Ugh… I think I hit a train…" Jessica groaned, blinking through the post-collision daze.
Peter blinked too, slightly winded but not hurt.
Then he looked at the woman now half-slumped against his chest—and his jaw dropped.
"Jessica?"
She blinked back.
Her mind was still in recovery mode, processing what had happened inside the restaurant, the eerie calm of her body not being her own, and now… Peter Parker holding her like a bridal rescue scene from a cheesy rom-com.
Only this wasn't a fantasy. It was real. Awkward, weirdly sweet, and very, very real.
"…Peter?" she echoed, her voice cracking.
Peter's Spidey-Sense wasn't pinging anymore, but his emotional sense? Blasting.
He took a step back, helping her stand up straight.
Now that he got a better look at her—white eye mask, bodysuit, pink wig that looked like it came from a party store clearance rack—he felt a mix of surprise and recognition.
"Wait a minute…" he said, brows furrowing. "Jewel?"
Jessica winced. "Don't say the name out loud. I was in a rush when I picked it, okay?"
Peter chuckled despite himself. "It's very… neon."
She stared at him for a moment, then looked down at her boots, as if trying to make them disappear.
A million thoughts raced through her head.
She remembered this boy—this man now. The awkward, kind-hearted classmate she had crushed on quietly all through middle and most of high school. The one she'd once screamed at for "looking at her like she was fragile" when he'd only been trying to empathize.
The boy she'd run from after the accident that took her family.
Peter Parker, whose eyes had grown colder each year, weighed down by something she couldn't understand back then.
And now?
Now he was the one who saved her.
Jessica lowered her gaze. Her voice came out as a whisper.
"I'm sorry."
Peter tilted his head. "For what?"
"For… everything. For yelling at you. For pushing you away. For not listening."
He blinked. "Jess… that was years ago."
"I know," she said quickly, still avoiding his eyes. "But I've never stopped thinking about it. I thought you were pitying me, but you weren't. You were just trying to relate. And I made you feel worse."
Peter was quiet.
Then, he offered the smallest, most lopsided grin she'd ever seen.
"Hey," he said. "We were kids. I got yelled at a lot."
Jessica snorted. "That doesn't make it better."
"No, but it means I didn't take it personally." He hesitated, then added, "You had it rough. I should've said something better back then. But… I'm glad you're okay."
Jessica met his gaze at last.
His eyes were warm again.
Not cold. Not distant.
Not broken.
And just like that, a tiny piece of the shame she'd carried for years… faded.
Jessica looked up at him—and for a second, the pink wig and mask melted away. And she was just a girl again. Tired. Strong. Haunted.
"But thanks," Peter added, giving her a small smile. "For the apology. It means something."
Jessica gave a half-nod, half-shrug. "You always were weirdly mature for a science nerd."
"You always were better at flying than landing."
She actually snorted at that. "Yeah… still working on that part."
They stood in silence for another moment.
-----------------------------
Peter didn't consider himself a genius—okay, maybe a little bit of one—but even he could tell something was off.
His memory was sharper. Like, disturbingly sharp. He could now remember exactly what Killgrave had been eating in the restaurant (soup with three croutons, a little too much salt), what time the waiter had refilled water at the table behind him, and the serial number on a fire extinguisher across the room.
Either Peter had become a walking surveillance camera…
Or Naruto had slipped some kind of chakra espresso into his bloodstream.
"Mental sharpness is one of the perks," Naruto's voice confirmed in his head.
"Also makes exams easier. You're welcome."
Peter was about to reply when a sudden, soul-punching question dropped:
"Peter… am I dying?"
He blinked, completely caught off guard.
"What? No! Why would you even think that?!"
Jessica gave a weak smile, the kind that said I've given up and can't find the energy to lie about it.
"Because… I just don't care anymore."
Peter's heart clenched. He saw it now—she wasn't just tired. She was shattered. Fractured. Running on emotional fumes.
"You're not okay," he said, stepping forward and gently taking her shoulders. "What's going on? And why the no mask thing? You just outed yourself to me like it was nothing."
Jessica looked away.
"I don't like masks," she muttered. "They make me feel like I'm suffocating."
Peter blinked. "That's… actually fair."
"And I told you because I trust you," she added.
He narrowed his eyes. "That's not all, is it?"
She exhaled shakily, her shoulders slumping like the air was leaking out of her soul.
"I'm giving up."
Peter froze.
"Wait… what?"
"I thought I could be a hero," she said, barely above a whisper. "But I was wrong. I was never good enough. And today…"
She trailed off, fists trembling.
"…I almost…"
The rest didn't need words. Her voice cracked, and Peter felt the pain radiating off her like heat from a broken furnace.
Without thinking, he wrapped her in a hug.
"Cry. Let it all out. I'm here."
Jessica didn't hesitate. She buried her face in his chest and finally, finally let go.
Years of bitterness, fear, and helplessness flooded out in tears that soaked through Peter's shirt.
And he just held her, murmuring quiet reassurances, letting her heart bleed in peace.
Eventually, her sobs quieted. Her breathing slowed.
Then, she looked up at him—eyes puffy but clear—and smirked.
"You know, you suck at hiding things."
Peter blinked. "What?"
"I've got super strength, genius. I squeezed you like a stress ball back there. You didn't even flinch. That should've snapped a few ribs."
He froze.
"…Huh."
Jessica raised an eyebrow. "You seriously didn't notice?"
Peter scratched the back of his head, sheepish. "Guess I got caught red-handed."
She smirked. "Don't worry, I won't dig. Not my business."
"Thanks, Jess."
A beat passed.
Then Jessica grinned. "Hey, Peter… can I give you my number?"
Peter blinked like someone had hit him with a Wi-Fi router.
"Wait, what?"
Jessica giggled. (Giggled. Actual miracle.) "What, it's weird for a girl to ask first?"
"No, just… didn't expect it."
"Still oblivious, huh?"
Peter chuckled, tapping her phone with his. "I'll work on it."
They exchanged numbers.
"Where are you studying, anyway?" he asked.
"Empire State. Criminology. Wanted to be a lawyer for the little guy," she said. Then she sighed. "Not sure anymore."
Peter nodded thoughtfully. "Then let's talk tomorrow. You're not alone."
Jessica gave a soft smile. "Alright. Then…"
She swayed.
"Jess?"
"…I'll leave my body to you…"
Thud.
She passed out.
Peter caught her with a grunt, holding her bridal-style like some kind of reluctant knight in a hoodie.
"…Really, Jess?" he muttered.
Looking around, he noticed she was still in her pink wig and white eye mask. Low budget cosplay or not, it was a dead giveaway.
"Yeah, nope."
He gently pulled off the wig and mask, stuffing them in his bag. Then he took off his jacket and draped it over her.
Now she looked like a tired girl in a leather jumpsuit.
Totally normal. Completely inconspicuous.
(Okay, 60% inconspicuous. The boots were a bit much.)
He glanced down at her face again. She looked peaceful now. Trusting.
And soft.
Peter's brain hiccuped for half a second—his teenage hormones flared like an overexcited squirrel on espresso.
'Nope. Not happening.'
He shut it down with sheer willpower and summoned a taxi with a wave.
Jessica groaned slightly in her sleep, then cuddled deeper into his arms.
Peter sighed.
"…I did not sign up for this."
But part of him—maybe the heroic part, maybe just the lonely kid who used to sit in the back of class—smiled.
Because tonight, he had saved someone.
Not just from a villain…
But from herself.