It took three hours in total.
What he found at the end of those three hours was clarifying in a way that reframed the entire problem.
The formula itself was not fundamentally broken and the lizard DNA was not the core issue the way everyone had assumed.
The actual flaw was specific and structural, the formula provided no protection for the brain's neurons, which meant that in any subject who used it the primal instincts would eventually take over and begin producing symptoms that resembled a rapidly developing multiple personality disorder, accompanied by a powerful addiction to the substance.
That was why Connors had kept increasing the dose near the end of the third film, and it was the same mechanism behind what happened to Harry Osborn in the Amazing Spider-Man series when he started using the Goblin Serum.
The brain was not being protected and so the brain eventually stopped cooperating.
He sat back and thought about what that meant for a solution.
The formula did not need to be thrown out.
It needed a neural protection component built into it, something that would keep the higher cognitive functions stable while the regenerative properties did their work.
That was a solvable problem, significantly more solvable than starting from scratch, and with the biological knowledge he had been building up over the past two weeks he already had a direction to start working from.
He checked the time and found that it was eleven in the morning with approximately an hour before May was due back from the FEAST Foundation.
He noted mentally that the foundation's existence here was consistent with the timeline he had mapped, which meant Martin Li was likely already somewhere in the organization, though there were no reports of anything calling itself the Demons yet and he was not going to start watching that situation until he had his powers and something resembling a support structure behind him.
Trusting his luck on that particular timeline was not something he loved doing, but the alternative was spreading his attention so thin that nothing got done properly.
He had more time than expected and he had been looking at numbers for three hours, so he decided to do something useful with the gap.
May was going to come home tired and there was no particular reason she should have to cook when he could have something ready for her.
He unlocked his door, headed downstairs, and started looking through the kitchen for what was available.
While searching through spices and pulling out utensils he found something else tucked among the kitchen papers, a collection of rent bills, multiple of them.
"Financial problems started sooner than I expected," he said to himself. "Although I already have plans for this, so it is less of a crisis and more of a timeline adjustment."
He was not particularly alarmed by it because he had already been thinking about the money problem, but it confirmed that whatever he was going to do about it needed to happen soon rather than eventually.
He put the bills back where he found them, looked at what he had laid out on the counter, and decided he knew exactly what to make.
He put on music before he started cooking because inspiration required the right environment and the right environment required the right soundtrack, and once the music was running everything else followed naturally.
Cooking with music playing was the same experience it had always been in his first life, the kind of focused flow state where the surrounding world receded and only the immediate task and the melody existed together.
He moved through the kitchen with the ease of someone who had done this many times and paid no attention to how much time was passing.
By the time the song ended he had not only finished dinner but had also made a dessert for May and set the table properly.
He turned around to put on another song and found May standing in the kitchen doorway looking at him with her arms crossed and an expression that was serious in a way that suggested this was not the first time she had come home to find her kitchen in a state of activity.
"Peter Benjamin Parker," she said. "I would like to know what you are doing in my kitchen, given that you are forbidden from unsupervised access to this room following the last incident, which I will not be describing in detail because I am still not ready to discuss it."
He had a sudden internal understanding of why May kept such a close watch on her kitchen whenever he was home.
Whatever the previous Peter had done in here, it had apparently been memorable for all the wrong reasons.
"Good morning, May," he said, keeping his expression calm. "To answer your question, I have been making dinner while you were out. It is almost ready, so I recommend you go sit down."
The timer on the stove went off at almost exactly that moment, which he appreciated for the timing.
"It seems it is ready. I will bring it out."
He moved quickly to get the food while May exhaled in a way that communicated both skepticism and reluctant curiosity, and when he glanced over his shoulder he could see her moving to the table and sitting down with her arms and legs crossed, which was the posture of someone who had not yet committed to trusting the situation.
He plated two servings, carried them out, and set one in front of May and one at his own place across from her, then sat down and waited.
"Spicy rice with grilled chicken and vegetable sauce," he said. "And I also made a dessert specifically for you, but you have to finish this first."
May looked at the plate for a long moment.
"You can.... when did you learn to cook?"
The tone was the same serious one she had been using since she walked in, and he made a mental note to find out at some point what the previous Peter had actually done in this kitchen because it had clearly left a lasting impression.
He picked up a piece of chicken, blew on it gently to cool it, and held it out to her.
"Eat it before it gets cold," he said. "It will not taste the same once it cools down."
He waited until she took it, then continued.
"This is the least I can do for you right now, May. I plan to give back everything you have put into taking care of me, and yes, that means spoiling you considerably, the same way you have spoiled me. I know this is not much and I genuinely mean that, but soon I want to give you things that a woman like you actually deserves."
May had been watching him throughout this. By the time he finished speaking her eyes were bright and her lips were doing something that was trying very hard not to become a full emotional response in front of her nephew.
She took a bite.
Closed her eyes.
"It is delicious," she said.
"Good," he said, in the deliberately stern tone of someone issuing a non-negotiable directive. "Because you are not getting up until you finish all of it."
May laughed properly at that, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and kept eating.
They ate in a quiet that was comfortable rather than awkward, interrupted only by the occasional clink of cutlery, until May decided to fill it.
"How have things been at school? Anything worth telling me?"
"I have managed to make two friends," he said. "I have quite a lot in common with one of them."
"That is good." May looked pleased, then shifted slightly. "And how are things with Mary Jane? Have you spoken to her yet? The last time she came over you two argued."
Every action at the table stopped for approximately half a second while he ran through the situation at high speed.
'Mary Jane,' he thought rapidly. 'There is a Mary Jane. I never saw her at school. Okay. May said last time, which means this is a recurring conversation, which means I can use that. I just have to make it believable. I genuinely curse the One Above All for not giving me the complete set of memories.'
"No," he said, with a face that he made sure carried the right weight of residual feeling. "And I am not going to. She thinks I am boring and jealous of her popularity. She is better off without me around."
"She apologized though, did she not?" May said carefully.
"She had time to say it when it would have meant something," Peter said. "She did not. If she wants forgiveness she will have to earn it."
May made the face of someone who disagreed with that position but recognized they were not going to win the argument tonight. "I hope she does it soon. She is too lovely a girl to let slip away."
"You are lovely too, May," he said, and the words came out before he had fully processed them.
May stared at him. "What?"
"I am saying," Peter said carefully, "that beauty is a physical trait and while it has value, it should not be the primary basis for a relationship. If it were, many relationships would look very different." He paused. "Including some that are closer to home than one might expect."
He stood up, collected the plates before May could respond to that, and went to get the dessert.
When he returned to the dining room May had not moved. She was sitting in exactly the same position, with a color on her face that had not been there during dinner.
He set the dessert in front of her.
"And if Mary Jane's primary quality is her appearance," he continued, pulling his chair back and sitting down, "then there are plenty of beautiful women in the world. Attraction is subjective and a woman whose only offering is how she looks is not going to make my knees weak or put butterflies in my stomach."
He reached over and touched her cheek briefly with one hand, then leaned in and placed a light kiss near the corner of her lips. "Enjoy the dessert. If you need me I will be in my room."
He left the dining room.
May stayed exactly where she was for considerably longer than was necessary.