Stupid buses. Stupid profs. Stupid criminals! All these were thoughts running through Peter’s head as he swung through the city. That morning as he had left for his classes, the bus schedule had been wrong. He had timed it perfectly. He would arrive at the stop with exactly two and a half minutes to spare before the bus came...expect that it came four minutes early! He was forced to either wait for the next one and be late, or call a taxi and spend the money he was going to use for lunch.<br/><br/>Once the whole transportation situation was sorted and he was running into the school, clutching his bag, Peter had sat through the dullest lectures ever, and been given countless pages of readings, at least three papers to write, and was reminded of some project he had completely forgotten was due next week. When did he have time for all this!<br/><br/>By the end of the day, Peter was starving, carting around a bag that was at least twenty pounds heavier, and ready to crash for an hour or so when he got back to the apartment he shared with his friend Harry Osborn, when Goblin had decided to show his ugly face.<br/><br/>“Why today? Why now?” Peter grumbled as he made for the nearest alley to change clothes and stuff everything into his already bursting bag.<br/><br/>It took the majority of the evening, and well into the night to get rid of the guy, at least for the time being. Peter swung through the streets, hoping Harry was home so he could vent about his horrible day. When he arrived at the window, sliding it open and nearly collapsing on the floor right there, Peter noticed how empty the place was. Tossing his bag to the floor, he dropped onto the couch, throwing one arm up over his eyes with a groan.<br/><br/>He had taken a real beating tonight and he was in desperate need of food, a shower, and sleep. Thankfully it was a Friday so he could sleep in for once, fingers crossed. He was drifting close to sleep when he heard the buzzing of his phone. Peter considered digging through his bag for it, but decided against it, letting the call go to voicemail.<br/><br/>It wasn’t until at he couldn’t ignore his stomach anymore that Peter pulled himself up, found his phone, and saw it was Harry who had been calling. Walking into the kitchen, flipping on lights as he went, Peter listened to the message left and couldn’t hold back the groan that escaped. Hitting his friends number, Peter called him back, waiting for him to pick up as he rummaged through the fridge for something to eat, still clad in his Spidey-suit.<br/><br/>“Hey Harry, what the heck man!” Peter said when the other man picked up. “Who am I supposed to complain to and get to force me to bed now?” He asked, dropping a container of leftovers on the counter and prying the lid off. He knew why something had come up. Harry’s dad, or, as Peter knew him well, the freaking Green Goblin, had just knocked the snot out of him and been sent running with a fair amount of bruises of his own.<br/><br/>“I hate you.” Peter said, not really meaning the often said words when the other did something to cause problems for Peter.