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ellieromanoff · 1 year ago

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The 'Language is Stupid' Game

Okay, so, I've been rereading your Marvel fics, specifically the Peter-centric ones. And they gave me an idea. What if Peter is sleeping over at his friend's house---let's say with his two besties MJ & Ned---and poor Spider Baby has a nightmare related to his superhero duties as Spiderman? It's a pretty bad nightmare, and he jolts awake, very confused and scared and a bit freaked out. Maybe his friends comfort him cause they already know he's Spiderman and goes through a lot bc of what being a superhero entails. Platonic all the way. Found family shenanigans. Anyway, no pressure to write it! Had it on my mind and wanted to share <3 Take care, Asbod! – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: peter has a nightmare/panic attack

Pairings: gen

Word Count: 3205

Peter wakes up from a nightmare during a sleepover with Ned and MJ. After a few moments of let's-all-be-glad-we're-alright cuddles, MJ has a rather unconventional solution for how to pass the time.

Can't breathe. Can't breathe. Can't breathe can't move can't breathe can't move can't let them down acan't stop now can't fail can't breathe can't move can't move can't fail can't can't can't can't—

"Peter. Peter."

There's a hand on his shoulder. The hand is made of concrete. His spine is going to break. He can't breathe. He can't move. He can't stop. He can't breathe—

"Shit, get the blanket off of him."

"I'm trying, I'm trying!"

"Peter? Pete, it's okay. It's okay, you're okay, you're fine."

He's not fine. His spine is about to break. He's about to fail and he can't fail, he can't move, he can't breathe—

"Peter," he hears again, the voice quiet and soft in his ear, "hey, it's okay. You're okay. Can you hear me?"

He gasps. His chest spasms. His hand shoots out in front of him and hits something—soft?

"Oh, shit, you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm—hh, I'm fine. I'm good. Is he…?"

"Peter? Hey, Peter, wake up, it's just a nightmare."

Peter blinks. He blinks and one of his hands automatically goes to his neck to try and loosen his costume, but he's not wearing his costume, he's just in a t-shirt and he's…he's in a bed? He gasps again, his throat on fire, and something swims into view in front of him.

"Hey, there he is," he hears as a face appears, "hey, Pete, you back with us? You okay?"

"M—MJ?"

"Yeah, Pete, it's me. Ned's…Ned's on the floor."

A blurry thing sticks up from the other side of a mound of some more blurry things and waves. Ned's arm, probably. Peter blinks. His chest is still on fire too. He looks down at his hand. It's shaking. Why is his hand shaking?

"Hey." He looks up. MJ's still looking at him like he's about to disappear into the floor. "Hey, Peter, can you—can you do one of your grounding tests?"

"Um—" shit, is that what I sound like?— "yeah, yeah, that's…that's probably a good idea."

"Great. Can you, uh, can you tell me five things that you can see?"

"There's a, uh, there's a blue pillow over there that has that weird scorch mark from where we tried to make bottle rockets with the Stark Tech, there's the crack in the ceiling from where we didn't know that I could jump that high, there's the, uh, there's the blanket that Ned's grandma brought us 'cause she thought we'd be cold, there's the watch Yelena gave us last week, and there's the, um…there's the charging cord you ripped apart when you stole it from that Zionist guy at the library."

"Okay. And four things you can hear?"

"Uh…" He closes his eyes only for his chest to tighten right away and they snap open. "Uh, I'm—I'm talking, the air conditioner's going, there's—there are cars outside, and uh, the uh—the light in the bathroom's buzzing again."

"What about touch?"

He fumbles a bit on the blanket—one, nice and soft—to get the charm thing Wanda gave him from where it came off during the nightmare—two, hard and cool to the touch—and then hesitantly reaches out for MJ. She takes his hand and holds hit tight—three.

"Okay, good," she says when he tells her, "and smell?"

He sniffs a few times and has to sniffle through some of the gross nightmare crying stuff. "Uh, someone next door's making pizza again and they didn't close their windows. And, uh, I think your grandma left the candle on in the hall again?"

"Oh, shit." Ned scrambles up and ducks outside.

"And taste?"

He licks his lips. Something coppery catches on the edge of his tongue and his eyes widen. "Blood?"

"Come here, let me see." MJ squints at him. "I think you just bit your lip. You're okay."

"Okay."

"You feel any better?"

"Yeah," he says as Ned comes back in and crawls onto the bed too, "yeah, I think—I think I got it. I, uh, I'm sorry, I just—"

"Hey, you don't need to apologize." Ned shuffles closer. "You're a superhero. You're gonna have shitty nightmares. That's how it works."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you guys have to—"

"Have to what?" MJ narrows her eyes. "Have to be your friends? Have to support you when you have nightmares?"

"I just meant that—"

"Have to treat you like a person who needs support sometimes because we're all human and we have to do that?"

"Okay, okay," he mumbles, shoving her shoulder with their clasped hands, "you made your point."

"Good."

He blinks a few more times, the phantom pain from the nightmare still wreaking havoc on his shoulders. Ned shifts again to get the blanket out from under him and push it on the ground.

"Can I have some water?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's right here." Ned reaches over and picks up his water bottle.

"Thanks. Hey, uh, why were on the floor earlier?"

"Oh, you know," Ned says in that way that he always does when he's trying to hide something and failing miserably, "just, uh, thought I'd give you guys some space."

Peter frowns. He goes back over the last few minutes until his eyes widen. "Oh, shit, did I push you off?"

"What? No, no…okay, maybe, but! It wasn't your fault and it didn't even hurt that bad. Well—the falling off the bed hurt more than the punch. I mean, it wasn't like it hurt bad, it didn't even—okay, well, I don't think I have a bruise or anything. Or—maybe just one. Just one! But it's not your fault," he says when Peter looks even more distraught, "it's not, okay? I'm not mad, I don't blame you, I'm all good. It's like what Dr. Strange said, right? I'm a rubber ball! Everything just bounces off of me!"

"That wasn't what he meant, I don't think," Peter says, reaching out for him too, "are you—you're seriously good? I didn't mean to—"

"I know, I know. And I'm totally fine. Seriously." Ned takes his hand and makes him fist bump. "See? All good, Peter, we're all good."

"Okay."

Outside, a car drives by and a cat runs down the alley, meowing its protest.

"Well, hey," MJ says, reaching down to her backpack, "since none of us are gonna go to sleep for a while, let's play a game."

Ned glances at Peter, who nods. "Sure. I like games. What game are we playing?"

"It's called Language is Stupid." MJ takes out her notebook and flips to a blank page. "Okay, everyone write down five songs you know that the rest of us will know."

Peter takes the notebook and pen with a shaky hand and writes down five songs. He passes it to Ned, who passes it back to MJ. When she's written the last song, she rips out the page and tears all of the song titles into individual strips of paper.

"Ned, where's your hat?"

"It's in the closet, hold on."

"Thanks." She puts all the pieces into the hat and gives it a shake. "Okay, everyone pick one. Don't show anyone else."

Peter takes a piece of paper, glancing at it. "Just one, right?"

"Yeah, just one for now. Okay, now what we're gonna do is put the lyrics of the song up until the first chorus into Google Translate a shit ton of times and then read it out so the other people can guess what song it is."

"Wait, why is this game called Language is Stupid?"

"You'll see. Ready?"

"Wait, hold on, I need my phone."

"Can you hand me mine too?"

"Dude, you have a Spiderman case?"

"Yeah, my best friend's Spiderman, I can have a Spiderman case."

"Thanks, dude."

"Are you two ready?" They nod. "Okay. You have five minutes, go."

The next five minutes are spent peppered with various snickers and noises of confusion before MJ calls time. Peter shakes his head, looking down at his results and Ned fully snorts into his hand while MJ scribbles a makeshift scoreboard on a new page.

"Okay, who wants to go first?"

"Me." Ned sits up a little taller. "You guys aren't ready for this."

"Bring it on."

"We are talking about insects. Words fail me I will say one thing We saw that today It was too far I came with your wife, didn't I?

I like it I like it It will be left behind One or two days."

"I'm sorry, you did what with my wife?"

"Why are we talking about insects? What song is this?" Peter laughs incredulously. "What the—read it again, read it again."

"That's literally—okay," MJ says when Ned reads it again—they have to take a pause about halfway through because Ned's laughing too hard to be understandable—"maybe we should be looking more at the patterns of the sentences than the words themselves."

"So it's a lot of short sentences that sort of repeat but not really." Peter steeples his fingers under his chin. "'I like it…I like it…' What was the ending?"

"'One or two days.'"

"Wait, wait, wait, no way, is that 'Take on Me?'"

"No fucking way," Peter groans as Ned laughs and nods. "How the fuck did you get that? And where the hell did the insects come from?"

"'Cause it's—well, I don't know about the insects, but the wife thing—the actual lyric is 'I'll be coming for your love,' or something like that. So if it went through a bunch of times and turned into 'wife—'"

"Yeah, MJ got it."

"Sweet. So that's one point for me…"

Ned laughs as Peter shakes his head and flops onto his shoulder. "Don't worry, buddy, you'll get the next one."

"Dude, this game is way harder than I thought it was gonna be."

"Okay, me next." MJ squints at her phone. "I think this one is easier than Ned's was."

"Oh, good."

"Ready?"

"Yep."

"Go for it."

"You are my light a desirable feeling Believe me when I tell you This is what I want

But our two worlds are different. I can't hold your heart When you speak This is what I want

Please explain the reasons for this. Not bad, but sad Please explain the reasons for this. This is wrong. Please explain the reasons for this. I don't want to hear what you have to say. This is what I want."

"Oh, come on, this is way easier!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, that's fucking…Backstreet Boys Brooklyn 99 song. What's it called…" Peter flaps his hand. "'I Want it That Way,' that one."

"Yeah, you got it."

"Not bad, but sad," Ned sings, "this is wrong,' dude, that's so much better than the original."

"I will have no Backstreet Boy slander in this bed, sir."

"This is my house!"

"Then you should know better."

"That's one point for Peter," MJ says, ignoring the two of them, "okay, Peter, your go."

"Alright, you two better get ready for this one."

"Bring it on."

Peter hides a grin. "Imagine you are walking down the hall. I didn't hear, no, I didn't hear any sound. "Easy marriage!" Happy marriage!" - But unfortunately he bit the poor groom.

"Did you hear the door slam?!" No, it's better to approach it with kindness and understanding. "Didn't you hear someone knocking on the door?" I ended the conversation. No, it's my heart."

When he looks up from his phone, both Ned and MJ are staring at him like he's grown two heads. He smiles and tilts his head.

"Well?"

"I'm sorry, I thought we were playing the Google Translate the lyrics game, not who can read the most edgy indie poetry game."

"What the—are you sure this is a song that we all know?"

"Yeah, you guys know it."

"And this is like—this is the first verse and the chorus, right, this isn't like the weird coda of the extended version that's only available on the physical album from 1978, right?" Peter nods, still grinning. "What the—okay, you need to read it again."

Peter reads it again. And again. And each time MJ looks closer and closer to hitting him with a pillow and Ned looks more and more like he's never heard a single song in his life.

"Okay, wait, can we get a hint?"

"It's one of the ones you wrote down."

"Me? Why did I do this to myself?"

"Ned, quick, tell me what songs you wrote down."

"I don't remember!"

"How do you not remember, it was less that ten minutes ago."

"It is the middle of the night, my brain is so offline right now."

"Pssh, what kind of high school student are you?"

"The kind that doesn't know what song this is supposed to be!"

Peter stifles a giggle. MJ rolls her eyes, throwing her hands up and leaning off the edge of the bed. Ned screws his face up and starts muttering to himself, probably trying to remember what it was he wrote down.

"Ugh, Pete, just read it one more time."

"Imagine you are walking down the hall—"

"Oh, wait!" Ned shouts loud enough that they all have to have an 'oh shit' moment before he continues in a stage whisper. "It's the Panic! At the Disco song!"

MJ sits up. "It's the what?"

"The one with the wedding! The poor groomsbride is a—wait, what did that change to?"

"But unfortunately he bit the poor groom."

"What the fuck is that?"

"I don't know, it changed itself to—hey!" He splutters when a pillow hits him in the face. "What was that for?"

"You know what you did."

"This game was your idea!"

"Shut up. Ned gets that point."

Ned's still shaking his head like he has no idea how they got here, which to be perfectly honest, neither does Peter. They exchange a quick fistbump while MJ reaches for the hat again.

"All tied up after round one, let's do another one."

They keep playing. MJ gets them all equally angry about her version of 'Rain on Me,' they have to have a full pause so they can all asphyxiate from laughter at Ned's 'Somebody That I Used to Know,' and Peter's pretty sure he should take a picture of MJ's face as her contact photo when he reads out Google Translate's take on 'Rocketman.'

"That's homophobic, that's what that is."

"Come on, MJ, don't you want the slogan to be 'We will kill you?'" He dodges another pillow. "Rocketman…is the only one here…"

"You suck."

Eventually, they're down to the last one. MJ has 6 points, Ned has 3, Peter has 5. Ned's the last one to go and if the way he hasn't stopped snickering is anything to go by, they're in for it.

"We are not strangers You know the rules as well as I do. So I think so You can't meet anyone else I'll let you know what's on my mind You have to think about it I won't give it to you

I won't give it to you I won't give it to you I won't make you cry I don't want to stop I won't lie to you and I won't hurt you."

For long seconds after he finishes reading, no one says anything. He looks up from his phone, still giggling. Peter is stone-faced. MJ isn't so much as breathing.

"Well? What do you guys think it is?"

"You think you're clever?"

"I didn't write this one down!"

"You think you're really funny, huh?"

"I don't know what's so funny about this one."

"I'm disowning you as my best friend."

"Aw, Pete…"

"Friendship with Ned ended, MJ is my best friend now."

"Aw, but the song says—" Ned doesn't get to finish because MJ throws a pillow at him. "Hey!"

"You will not," she continues, picking up another pillow, "Rickroll us via Google Translate in this decade."

"I won't give it to you, I won't give it to you—hey!" He grabs a pillow and swats back. "Stay back!"

"Oh, yeah? Peter, help me!"

"In the name of decent memery and standards for clickbait, I cast thee out!"

Ned squawks—and nearly falls off the bed again—before he manages to hit either of them with the pillows. The room fills with the sound of rustling blankets and the thwomp of pillows hitting things as the hat tumbles to the ground, spilling bits of paper everywhere. MJ's notebook is the next to go. Phones clunk onto the floor, someone's leg ends up over the headboard, and eventually the three of them get so tangled up in the blankets they can't even move anymore. Peter lies there, panting, still breathless with laughter.

"Hey," Ned calls after a few seconds, still heaving too, "so who won?"

"Oh, uh—nah, fuck it, I can't reach."

"I think MJ, you won."

She raises one arm and lets it flop over her face. "Yay. Victory is mine."

Ned and Peter golf clap. She flips them both off.

"Hey, Peter?" Ned nudges him. "You feel better?"

He blinks. That's right, he'd had a nightmare. That's what started all of this. But even as sleep tugs at him, he doesn't feel as though he's about to fall back into any sort of spiral. Instead, the whole room just feels…fuzzy. Like the way the house feels when you fall asleep on the couch during a party and someone carries you to bed. Like it's safe. Like he's just a normal kid having a sleepover with his friends and he gets to be tired now.

"Peter?"

"Yeah," he mumbles, "yeah, yeah, I'm…I'm all good now."

MJ extricates herself from the worst of the blanket tangle and lies down next to him. "You wanna try to sleep some more?"

"Yeah, that's a good idea."

"Ned, get up here."

"Coming, coming."

The three of them manage to sort the blankets out enough to actually get under them. Ned reaches over to turn off the light. Peter stares up at the crack in the ceiling, drifting towards sleep, when the best idea occurs to him.

"Hey, guys," he mumbles, words already slurring, "we should…we sh'ld play this game with the 'vengers this weekend."

"Go to sleep, Pete, tell us dumb ideas tomorrow."

"'S not dumb…it'd be fun."

"Only if Ned and I get to hide when the pillow fight starts."

"Deal."

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