June 2, 2014: Does whatever a Stiles can.

"Peter!"

There are probably better ways to go about this.

"Hey, Peter, are you home?"

Stiles can count the number of times that he's actually hung out with Peter Parker on one hand. They met at Steve's birthday party forever ago, and while Stiles had given him the head nod and made idle conversation about absolutely nothing every chance he's gotten at school, that's not... quite the same level of personal connection that he probably needs to be pounding on his door like this.

Not that he's pounding. It's more like a knock. A really insistent, excessively persistent knock.

He woke up sticking to... well, just about anything and everything he touched. He can crawl up the wall, in fact (he knows, he tried), and he knows that that those weights he lifted at the gym didn't magically give him the muscles he's always dreamed of. Obviously, whatever is going on is thanks to Darrow, but that doesn't mean he can't run to the first person he can think of with wallcrawling abilities and ask him what the actual hell.

What he's expecting, he's not sure. He probably shouldn't even be going to Peter about this, since he technically doesn't know anything about anything that Peter may or may not be able to do. But his options are limited, so here he is.

"Oh god, please be home."

June 2, 2014: Woke up on the right side of the bed.

Everyone's been reassuring him: this is only temporary. Stiles can't decide if he's happy about it or if it's the worst news of his life.

He's wanted to be a superhero since he was old enough to understand what one was. Sure, later in life he begrudged being the metaphorical Robin to Scott's Batman all the time, but he'd take being a sidekick over being a bystander any day. And now, he can actually do it.

So he doesn't have web shooters or a cool costume; that much he'll leave to the professionals. All the same, waking up able to crawl on walls and possessing unnatural athletic and gymnastic talents? After all the Spider-Man comics that Stiles read as a kid, it seems like a crime not to use the powers in and of itself.

Great responsibility and all that.

But he'd be remiss to have all of these powers and not to show Hermione. She knows as well as anyone how much he hates being the literal kind of powerless, and he knows that she'll indulge him if he decides to show her how he can hang on the ceiling now like it's entirely new and unusual around here. He shoots her a text to make sure she's around, and then heads over... probably faster than is proper decorum, but hey. He's excited.

He bounces on the balls of his feet, hands shoved into his pockets to hold back any unnecessary flailing, and waits.