His life hadn’t been normal for a very, very long time. From the moment the spider had bitten him, he’d thrown any chance at normal or safe or stable out the window, leaping after them in a suit and web shooters because that was what he had to do. He hadn’t had a shot at normal, but, because he was a self-deluding lunatic, he hadn’t given up looking for it. For a little while, when he’d woken up every morning next to the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, when he found time between school and the lab and patrol to curl up on the couch with her and let her show him her favorite musicals, he’d thought he’d found it. He’d let himself grow comfortable in it, picturing the way it would stretch forward into the future, because, for a brief, foolish while, he’d thought they’d have a future. (He’d thought he’d have a future.) He knew he was unreliable at best, but he hadn’t realized how heavily his missed dates and masked flirtations with the Black Cat had been adding up until it was too late. MJ deserved to be allowed to make her own choices; his hero complex was stifling, not charming. He knew that now.
MJ was the closest Peter would ever have to normal, and, as always, he’d fucked it up. He’d never have normal.
“Have you tried flinging your entire body through the air at ridiculous velocities every time you needed to get to work? Give it a shot then let me know how your back’s holding up.” He shrugged, a teasing grin on his face. Felicia had been pretty good, but this was a decade’s worth of deep-tissue damage. “May told me to stop asking because it stresses her out.” The little things, the small intimacies. Yeah, MJ had been terrible at back massages, but it was the familiarity of it. There was so much time between them now. People and words and hurt and heartbreak. Mistakes, regrets, the whole melodramatic song and dance. But, staring at her now, it didn’t feel like much at all.
I would’ve stayed, she said. There was less air between them, and the feeling of her hand intertwining with his caused his heart to jump, the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. Not spider sense, something else. Something electric, something remembered. Something like hope. Something like–no, he knew the word for this. He was just too much of a coward to admit it was still there, after all this time. It had always been there, from the very first time he’d seen her, all those years ago. Something like love. Fuck.
He blinked, then he leaned in and kissed her.
mary jane is looking at peter through the wisps of mascara covered eyelashes , she doesn’t regret what she said . . . she only wishes she said it sooner : before others got involved , before she’d settled her differences with felicia over tequila and vodka tonic . . . before she fell in love with harry. head is spiraling , confused by herself and her erratic emotions. this is a girl leaves her chapters unfinished , using them as stepping stones to the sequel. peter’s left open ended , no real closure or move along because she’d never truly been over him. how could she ? but now , they’re kissing , lips falling together. it’s a good kiss , one that drags the life into her , pulls the mushed feelings for peter back into her gut. it’s butterflies and anguish , because how could she be silly ? this isn’t friends , this is way past the line. peter and mary jane are driven together by their souls and well , mary jane has a choice , one that will finish a chapter and she’s not sure where to put her bookmark. harry , peter . . . it’s too much at once. too fast. hands slip to peter’s chest , forehead hits against his own. her lips sink away from peter’s and there’s a small shake of her head. ❝ i need to . . . figure some things out. we — i’ll see you , okay ? . . . thanks for the view , tiger. ❞ mary jane tugs away , hand slipping out of his grasp as she makes her way to the elevator.
