The Spider-Grind

The aftermath of the raid had left everyone on edge, but there was a shared sense of accomplishment in dismantling one of Mister Sinister's labs. The trio had grown closer to the mutants they once admired from afar, yet there remained a barrier—the secret of their identities.

Ethan, Peter, and Gwen sat at the kitchen table with Jean and Psylocke, nursing cups of coffee. "The Professor is taking the senior staff and the kids for a two day field trip this evening, why don't we all go out for some drinks?" Wolverine asked while sipping on his beer.

"Focus now, Logan," Jean interrupted before they all got distracted.

As they sat and discussed their next steps, the unmistakable sound of dramatic footsteps echoed down the hall. A moment later, Deadpool strutted into the kitchen wearing a bright red T-shirt that read TRAINEE in bold letters across the chest. He struck an exaggerated pose, one hand on his hip and the other holding a steaming mug emblazoned with World's Best Merc.

"Ladies, gentlemen, and assorted mutants, your hero has arrived," Deadpool announced, spinning on his heel like a model on a catwalk. "And might I say, the kitchen has never smelled so delightfully mediocre."

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "What's with the shirt?"

"Oh, this little thing?" Deadpool gestured at the T-shirt. "Professor X said I need to 'work on my team skills.' Apparently, blowing up half a lab doesn't qualify as constructive participation. So now I'm officially a trainee." He rolled his eyes. "As if I need training. I'm already the whole package. Brains, brawn, beauty…"

Wolverine grunted. "More like a pain in the ass."

Deadpool ignored him and plopped into a chair. "Anyway, I thought you'd all like to know that while you were playing Mission: Impossible, I was dealing with my own little existential crisis. Do you have any idea how hard it is to kill yourself? Turns out, Essex had a whole army of Deadpool clones. Took me a while, but I finally got to the real him and, well…" He made a ripping motion with his hands. "Bye-bye, head."

Psylocke tilted her head, unimpressed. "You're saying you killed Mister Sinister?"

"Well, one version of him," Deadpool replied. "I mean, it's Sinister. Dude probably has backups of his backups." He leaned back in his chair. "But for now, no more creepy science experiments with my DNA.You're welcome."

Wolverine grunted. "Still a pain in the ass."

Deadpool winked. "And yet, you love me."

Before Deadpool could launch into another monologue, two figures entered the kitchen: Forge and Hank McCoy. Forge adjusted his visor, while Hank's furred hands carried blueprints and a toolkit.

"So," Forge began, his tone matter-of-fact. "I hear you three have been running around in glorified pajamas."

Peter perked up. "Hey, I'll have you know these are artisanal, handcrafted—"

"Adorable," Forge interrupted. "And also wildly inefficient. You need proper suits, ones that can handle what you're up against."

Hank nodded. "We've reviewed the damage your suits sustained during the raid. They're impressive for what they are, but they won't last in the battles ahead."

Forge laid out some designs on the table. "We'd like to make you something better—something that can handle what's coming."

Ethan leaned forward, intrigued. "What do you have in mind?"

Forge grinned. "Oh, you'll see. Let's just say your days of duct tape repairs are over."

The trio spent the next hour discussing suit designs. Forge and Hank asked detailed questions about their abilities and fighting styles, taking measurements and brainstorming features.

"We'll integrate web-fluid reservoirs and make it light weight," Forge said to Peter.

"For you," Hank addressed Ethan, "we'll focus on something extremely reinforced and as light as possible."

"And for Gwen," Forge added, "a suit that enhances agility without sacrificing protection."

As the excitement died down, Ethan noticed Peter and Gwen exchanging glances. The issue of their secret identities had been weighing on them, especially now that they were working closely with the X-Men.

"We need to talk," Ethan said, pulling the group aside after the meeting.

Gwen nodded. "We can't keep hiding who we are forever. If we're going to trust the X-Men, we have to let them trust us, too."

Peter hesitated. "But what about Charles? He'll want to read our minds. I don't know about you, but I'm not a fan of that."

"I'm not either," Ethan agreed. "But maybe we can do something about it. Jean Grey might be able to teach us how to shield our minds."

The trio approached Jean later that day, explaining their concerns. Jean listened intently, her expression understanding.

"I understand your hesitation," she said. "Not everyone is comfortable with telepathy. I can teach you how to create mental barriers to protect your thoughts. It'll take practice, but it's possible."

She led them to the mansion's training room, where they sat in a quiet circle. Jean began guiding them through the basics of building mental shields, teaching them to visualize walls or barriers around their minds.

Ethan was a quick learner, his adaptable nature allowing him to grasp the concept extremely fast. Gwen followed closely, her focus and determination shining through. Peter, despite his tendency to joke around, surprised everyone with his ability to concentrate when it mattered.

By the end of the session, Jean nodded in approval. "You're off to a good start. With time, your shields will become second nature."

Feeling more confident, the trio agreed to reveal their identities to the X-Men the following day after they develop a psychic jammer to cover the weakness of their still developing mental shields.

Later that evening, Ethan found himself on the mansion's balcony, gazing out at the sprawling grounds. The moonlight cast a silvery glow over the trees, creating a serene atmosphere.

"You're brooding again," Psylocke said, stepping onto the balcony.

Ethan glanced at her and smirked. "You have a knack for catching me at my most contemplative."

She leaned against the railing. "What's on your mind?"

"Everything," he admitted. "The stakes, the risks, the fact that we're about to reveal who we are to a group of people who might not even trust us."

Psylocke studied him for a moment. "Trust is earned, not given. And you're earning it, whether you realize it or not. Even Cyclops is starting to respect you. That's no small feat."

Ethan chuckled softly. "Yeah, because he's such a ray of sunshine."

She allowed herself a small smile. "You're a lot like him, in some ways. Stubborn, determined, always thinking ahead."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Ethan said, turning to face her. "What about you? You've been through more than most people can imagine, and yet here you are, still fighting."

Psylocke's expression softened. "I fight because I have to. Because if I don't, people like Sinister win."

Ethan nodded. "You're stronger than you think."

Her gaze lingered on him, something unreadable in her eyes. "So are you."

Before either could say more, Peter and Gwen appeared on the balcony.

"Are we interrupting?" Peter asked, grinning mischievously.

Ethan rolled his eyes. "Relax, Spider. We were just talking."

"Sure you were," Peter teased.

Gwen crossed her arms, her expression sly. "You two seem to spend a lot of time 'just talking.'"

Ethan sighed. "You're both insufferable."

Peter laughed. "We try."

---

As they stood on top of a skyscraper during their nightly patrol, Peter turned to Gwen.

"You know, I've been talking to MJ," he said casually.

Gwen's smile faltered, though she quickly masked it. "Oh?"

"Yeah," Peter continued. "She's been really great lately. I mean, after everything with Flash, I feel like she's finally opening up."

Gwen nodded, forcing a smile. "That's… great, Peter."

Ethan, slightly ahead, caught the exchange and shot Gwen a sympathetic look. He could see the disappointment in her eyes, even if Peter couldn't.

Later, as they swung through the city, Ethan's mind was racing. They were a team for now. And hopefully a strong one to survive the drama and challenges that is to come.