Chapter Text
Eric thought of himself as a pretty observant person, when he slept well that is, but Jack… Jack confuses him. A lot actually. All the time probably. He leaves in the middle of the night… suspicious (the word of the day yesterday). Sometimes while they have breakfast together he leaves! Make up some stupid excuses like, “Forgot to turn in the homework for Feeny!” or he has to go milk. Yes not, “go get milk”, go milk.
Normally he wouldn’t find that suspicious because… he’s Eric, air-headed, slow… unaware, you know? But Jack is the opposite, he’d rather die than forget to turn in the homework for Feeny, Jack was the most put together person, after Topanga, duh. Some days Jack comes home in the middle of the night with bruises on his face, it’s either that or cuts and he’s actively bleeding. It doesn’t matter because both him and Rachel get mini heart-attacks when they see his face.
What’s even more suspicious is that around the same time that Jack began his unusual behavior is that Spider-man appeared. Weird, right? Eric feels insane, not that he normally doesn’t, but even more so. Anyways, Eric came up with a fool proof plan. He’d confront Jack when he came home suspiciously late, because for some reason Jack can’t keep a secret from Eric. Rachel says it’s because of the way he looks at Jack, all doe-eyes and pitiful that Jack can’t help it, but she’s wrong.
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It’s a dark night, the moon is completely covered by the clouds and there’s no more stars in Philadelphia, not that you could see much because of the light pollution, but the few that were there were gone. Eric sat on the couch, trying to not fall asleep because it was late. Rachel was there too, but she went to bed since her eyelids were getting heavy and felt that Jack wouldn’t show.
Eric knew otherwise. Right when he began to fall asleep (against every nerve in his body) the door creaked open. Despite how quiet Jack was trying to be, it still woke Eric awake. He jerked up, frightening (word of the day a week ago) Jack. He squealed and hit the door closed behind him. “Jack!” Eric yelled.
“Eric!” Jack shushed Eric, covering his mouth. “Why are you still awake?! It’s five am!” He was desperately trying to hush Eric. Eric finally opened his eyes some more, looking up at Jack. There was a cut above his left eye brow, a bruise on his lip and right cheek, and dirt all over his face. He was sweating and smelled awful, Eric grimaced, scrunching his face.
Eric licked Jack's hand, startling Jack again, and sending him falling back into the coffee table. “What’s wrong with you?” Jack whisper-yelled at Eric. Eric rolled his eyes, an act he did all the time to Jack, and sat up. “What’s wrong with you? You’re back at five am, and you come back with injuries all the time!” He pointed at Jack with an accusatory glare through the sleep that flooded his senses.
Jack gasped and shook his head. “I-I don’t! Ever! Not at all!” he stammered, too tired to come up with a plausible excuse. Eric smirked, he got him right he wanted. “You know I’m right too! You… you have a secret!” He exclaimed, standing up before being brought back down because he stood up too quickly. Jack sat up on the coffee table. He was sweating some more, doing his nervous smile while looking for a way out.
“What could I be hiding from you?” Jack asked. “My roommate, brother from another mother!” Eric scoffed, he’s tired and sure that Jack is exhausted too, judging by his eyebags and the way his head would nod to the side the second his body would relax. “Jack,” Eric softened, “what’s going on? Are you going to the strip club? Is there something wrong? Are you gambling and ashamed to face us?”
Jack's eyes widened. Eric could see him considering something. So now he could go in with the final blow. “You can’t be spiderman, right?” He said it as a joke, but he meant it. Jack gasped, like audibly. Offended, but also surprised. “No!” Jack raised his voice, then he lowered it. “No, I’m not… hah… spiderman.” Eric raised a brow. He’s even more concerned and certain of his little theory. “Look Eric, I’m just working late, no strippers, no debts, nothing. I promised,” he smiled at Eric before standing up and patting him on the back, “I’m gonna go shower, so just relax. It was a bar fight I got mixed up in, I swear.”
Jack left him on the red couch in their apartment as he went to the bathroom. Eric sighed, aloud, annoyed, and tired. So he just went to his room. With a new theory in tow and a couple of new suspicions (today's word of the day).
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Eric woke to the door slamming. Loudly. He’s sure that the entire floor woke up to that slam. It definitely wasn’t Rachel because she’s a lady who’s graceful and even when she’s mad would never slam the door because… something about manners. He rolled off his bed and walked out of his room and to the railing above (not really above, barely raised above the kitchen) where Rachel sat at the counter, her hands on her face, covering everything to even show her emotions or face.
“Rach? What’s up? Did he just…”
“Storm out? Yeah, got his panties in a mix when I confronted him.”
“How’d you confront him? It’s like 8 am, you didn’t snap at him, right?
A pause, she looked away, ashamed. Eric groaned. “Rachel, you know Jack! How he gets!” his voice raised an octave higher and he sounded like a tiny dog barking at the bigger dogs. Rachel nodded, “I know! I don’t know why, but seeing him act like the bandages on his face were nothing and just making cereal! Pissed me off!” They both sighed in unison.
In the amount of time where Jack left, they were coming up with theories, disagreeing left and right. “I still think he’s Spiderman!” Eric exclaimed. Rachel scoffed. “No way! It’s a reach!” She pointed out and the entirety of that morning was just them arguing.