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Peter has always loved love. He saw it with his parents for the few years he had with them. Mornings spent passing coffee to each other as they performed a tango of intelligence, juggling cups plates, phones and laptops as they prepared for work. They still remained to be the smartest people he'd had the luxury of knowing. Peter would sit in awe of them, their rushed mornings still having time for moments of pause for him and for each other.
At age 6, love was the centre of your life. You lived, loved and worked with your partner. There was no reprise from them and you never wanted one anyway.
At age 7, after he'd moved in with May and Ben, he discovered a different way to love. Shared interests helped but differences didn't mean damage. Their varied interests pulled May and Ben together in the same way that his parents identical ones had. The way that love wasn't just putting your cold feet under your husband's legs while you worked on a presentation together. Love could also be bringing home the right wood glue for the placard your wife was going to make so the cardboard didn't fall and 'assault' an officer again.
Love was trying new cuisines and braving homemade attempts at old ones.
Love was a back and forth, a give as much as it was a take. Peter soaked it in and found that all in all, Love was what brought a smile wider than any other to May's face. Love was what brought Fondness to his Ben's eyes when May stormed in furious from a Town Hall.
Peter also learnt that Love was arguments that ended in agreements. It was compromise and it was work. It was frustration that only burst from the seams when they thought he'd gone to bed for the evening. Peeking through the crack in his door he'd watched tension bubble over and watched as they fought. It wasn't anything big, both over tired and still grieving a year on for the family they'd lost. It'd been an unwashed pasta tray that had tipped them over the edge. Peter had never seen them argue past mild differences in opinions, a joking roll of the eyes, a nudge against his shoulder as one of them jerked their thumb at the other, leaving him to snicker.
Love was 'talk to me, Ben. What's really going on?'
Love was apologies and communication.
"Are you and May gonna be okay?" Peter had asked tentatively the next day while they were fiddling with the washer. He'd been sat twisting and untwisting the same screw for the past ten minutes as he thought about how to broach the topic. He didn't really care who he ended up living with, he adored both of them so deeply, but he felt that the holes in their hearts would be a whole lot bigger (heh. Hole. Whole.) If one of them was missing. It'd be much better that they all just stay together.
"What was that, little man?" Ben asked, putting down his tools and facing Peter completely. There was no concern on his face, just eager to be attentive. He hadn’t been ready to be a father but he was a good one nonetheless.
"You fought. I heard. Are you gonna be okay? I just think if you bought some flowers like in Pretty Woman, she'd be okay!" Peter rushed out, eyes still on the screw. He risked a glance up at Ben who looked stuck between a laugh and a sigh, disappointed in something Peter didn't understand at the time. Looking back, he realises he was disappointed in himself, thinking he'd done something wrong by worrying his kid. Peter wishes he could tell him just how great he’d been.
"We did fight, but that's okay. We're okay. I promise." He explained, setting down his tools and shifting so he was sat down properly, facing Peter with his arms looped around his knees.
"But you're in love! You can't fight!" Peter pleaded in reply, and whilst he didn’t care who he ended up living with he really, really cared about keeping them both in his life.
"Love doesn't fix everything. Love isn't a magic solution." Peter’s face broke, his young heart trying to accept this new loss. Ben quickly realised his mistake as Peter’s expression turned to one of panic. "That's not to say your aunt or I are going anywhere. It's more to say... when you love someone you make the effort to not fight, but humans make mistakes. Sometimes we slip up, working through that, apologising when you're wrong and being better for them, that's love."
Peter chewed on this, eyes back on his lap. It was such a different concept to the perfection that he had seen so far. There was no denying May and Ben loved each other though. So... what Ben was saying must be true.
"Flowers definitely aren't a bad idea though. Flowers can say a lot of things, and I don't like using them when I should be the one saying it, so... instead of sorry shall we go find some ones that say 'we love you, May'?"
Peter nodded, getting up, his tools clattering to the ground before he hurriedly starts to put them away in the tool box. "Maybe we should finish this up first though, bud. We don't need to be apologising to May two days in a row." Ben says with a laugh, reaching over to pass Peter his screwdriver again.
Peter frowned, staring at the screwdriver like Ben was insane for even suggesting it. "But we gotta go show May you still love her. She didn’t even ask us to fix the washer!" He whined, his fears only marginally placated.
"Never over look the importance of the little things."
Now, with both of them gone Peter understands what he meant. May hated the super of their apartment. Landlords in general were among her least favourite people and having one dictate when her stuff could be fixed bothered her to no end. Ben did what he could to give her a little bit of comfort. That was love.
At the time he understood the impact the little things could have when May got home that evening. Her grumbles pausing at the sight of the flowers, but her smile only breaking at the seams when she saw the steaming cup of tea next to them. "Perfect temperature," She had said after taking a sip. Her eyes never drifting from Ben's as the worries of her day seemingly washed away. That was love.
By the time he was 14, Peter felt he knew a lot about love. He'd been blessedly exposed to so much of it through his family; his parents, May and Ben, and through friends. Well, friend - Ned. He'd learnt so much of familial love, platonic love, adoration and devotion. He was an expert.
Unfortunately, he was also the leading expert in loss.
As he peered through the door of his bedroom, late at night, to see May sobbing on the couch, he learnt that for as beautiful as it was, Love was a knife in the gut, ready to be twisted by whoever was at the other end.
One thing, Peter was decidedly not an expert on was falling in love. He saw the end product, but never the journey. Ben would probably say that you were always falling in love. It was a never-ending rollercoaster. Peter just had no clue about how you got on that rollercoaster.
At 15, he starts to learn with Liz. That the journey begins with butterflies and an inability to look away. He's in awe of her constantly. She's so smart, popular and pretty. He thinks that this is what Ben must have felt when he met May, and when he manages to score a date with her to Homecoming, he knows that this is the start of his rollercoaster.
May helps him do his tie, teaches him to dance. He's got a corsage for Liz that matches her dress, all in all, this is looking to be the start of a story that he'll tell their kids.
He's full of hope as he walks up to her door that night.
"You really messed her around." A cool, unbothered voice says from behind him as he watches Liz walk down the hallway with tears in her eyes.
"Thanks, Michelle." Peter says with an eye roll. He's feeling fragile enough from the events of the last few days that he really doesn't need her sarcastic input on things. He sometimes thinks she's the antithesis of him. She has all the components for love; she's smart, ridiculously cool, funny when she's not being mean and super pretty. She could be a fairytale romance but instead chooses to use her powers for evil. He's becoming an expert on villains too and Michelle would be the LoveSap.
"Its not the worst thing that’s going to happen to her though," She continues on in her same bored tone. She’s still staring off into the space Liz had left behind. "Not even the worst thing that's happened to her this week."
"I didn't help things though. Probably made things a whole lot worse."
"I don't think a boy can make your dad being a super villain worse. That's kind of bad enough as it is." She says, finally looking down at him. He's never really had her eyes fixed on him for this long, or at least realised she was looking. He wishes he was taller so he felt less like a bug, ready for squashing, under her gaze. "Feel bad for what you did because it was a shitty thing to do, not because of circumstances beyond your control. Don't let her tragedy be your motivation to be a better person. She deserves better than that."
For a moment he wants to bite back, to snap that she has no business in his business. But it comes together, why she was at Liz's party. Why she felt comfortable enough to make toast in Liz's kitchen, why she'd always butted in when they mooned over Liz, why her eyes kept drifting down to Liz's empty locker. Liz was her friend. She was here protecting her friend. He immediately felt guilty for his earlier train of thought, even though he hadn't voiced them. He's bitter and upset about his first crush failing. She's nowhere on the same plain as Toomes, especially considering she'd made so many notes for him when he'd been off school the year prior. "You're a good guy, Peter. You're gonna make mistakes, but here's to learning from them."
A third realisation hits him. She's, in her own weird way, trying to comfort him. He opens his mouth a few times, trying to find words to expand on whatever this is but she's already pushing away and walking down the corridor. "Michelle!" He calls out suddenly, her gait falters. "Thanks." She throws up a peace sign and keeps walking.
She's so freaking cool.
A few days later when she's announced captain and quizzes him just to mess with him before leaving, he decides she's annoying once again. Cool but annoying.
By the time he’s one week away from his 16th birthday, Michelle- or MJ as he now gets to call her is easily one of his closest friends. She’s second only to Ned who could never be replaced. He’s his Guy in the Chair. He’s Ned.
And MJ is MJ. She’s still effortlessly cool and aloof, still smart in ways he’ll never truly understand or really appreciate because it’s on another plain to the kind of smart that he and Ned are. She’s still pretty, especially now that she styles her hair so her bangs don’t hang in her eyes anymore. Not that she wasn’t pretty before, but he likes being able to see her eyes. He likes watching how she reacts to things. She’s still quiet, even though she’s growing into her own a bit more, but her eyes tell the whole story even if her words don’t.
All in all, he likes having MJ as a friend.
Their conversations have long since moved past just AcaDec and homework. Now she comes round and they watch movies together. He learns that her favourite film ever is The Princess Bride only followed closely by Bambi and it just-... is such an MJ combination that he can’t explain why he isn’t surprised at all.
He learns all the different flavours of tea she enjoys and starts to keep a small stash of Chamomile on hand for the days that they do actually study together.
One night he comes back to his bedroom after patrol and spots MJ dozing with her cheek pressed to the top of Ned’s head while Empire plays on his laptop. MJ didn’t know his secret yet but he intended on telling her soon, so he’d had to climb in through the bathroom. This was the one downside of May agreeing to a girl sleeping over (with an abundance of rules in place). MJ and Ned easily occupied themselves though. The pair of them had been apparently getting quite close in the time he’d been too focused on being Spidey. They seem to have an unspoken friendship that Peter is a little jealous of.
“Oh, thank god. You can be her pillow now.” Ned grumbles, using his head to nudge MJ on to Peter once he’s settled in the free space. The other boy then clambers across the bed ungrateful, limbs digging into limbs as he escapes to the bathroom. It’s genuinely shocking that MJ only stirs to get comfortable against his side
He wraps his arms around her and sighs. Her hair smells like flowers and apples and it eases his bones more than any shower could after a long patrol.
The calm doesn’t last for long.
“Dude! Randy didn’t invite us to his fucking party!” Ned shrieks from the doorway, his phone in hand as he’s undoubtedly staring down at whatever Instagram had alerted him of this drama. Peter doesn’t really care, it’s not as though he’d have been able to stay for long. It apparently matters to Ned though so he’s offended on his behalf. He’s a bit more annoyed that Ned’s voice us the thing that finally wakes MJ up and has her pulling away from him with a faint blush.
She told him she hadn’t been sleeping well lately. He knew better than anyone the importance of a good nap and Ned had just ruined that.
“I was invited.” She mumbles, rubbing at her eyes and knocking an eyelash to her cheek that Peter should really move for her. Then her words catch up to him and he’s blinking at her with a quiet “You were?”
Ned’s still focused on the less important things. “Why aren’t you there?! Why are you here?! Why didn’t you get us an invite?”
“Randy wouldn’t let me bring a plus one let alone a plus two.”
Peter turns those words over in his head and is disgusted by the outcome. “He was trying to hit on you?!” He squawks and she frowns for a second, probably confused by his tone and he struggles to find the right words to cover why the idea of it seemed to panic him so much. She brushes it off relatively quickly though and for once Peter is thankful that Michelle’s mind seems to run faster than anyone else’s.
“Some people think they’re brave enough to try.” MJ laughs, and he can see why shed think that’s funny, because of how intimidating she can be but he also thinks she’s ignorant to just how awesome she is. People would be dumb not to try and get to know her. “And I’d rather spend the night with you dorks than spend it with those losers.”
His heart warms. It's at that moment that he realises MJ isn’t just one of his friends. She’s his best friend right beside Ned. He loves her. In the same way he loves Ned, obviously.
By 17 he’s long since accepted that he’s not actually an expert at love. Ben, May and his parents had given him the foundation classes but there was an entire world of it that he didn’t even realise. He realises he’s not an expert at love when he skips a coffee date (which is not a date) with MJ and she comes into school the next morning saying that his absence worked in her favour. He realises he’s not an expert at love because he doesn’t know why his heart sinks down to his stomach when she says that she has a date (an actual date) with the shop owner’s son.
Harry Osborn is cool and rich, and handsome in a way that Peter thinks isn’t enough to compete with MJ. His features don’t compliment hers at all; Ned doesn’t agree but that’s because he doesn’t understand what Peter means. He’s nice enough when he’s not being pretentious and he seems to have MJ hook, line and sinker. Or as head over heels as Peter thinks MJ will let herself be for a boy.
Things with Harry go up and down continuously and Peter hates to admit that he does bring her out of her shell. MJ goes to more parties, she’s a little more sociable. She auditions for the school play due to Harry’s suggestion and finds that she loves it. She's in no way a natural, but the smile on her face says all it needs to. Peter helps her learn lines on their study dates (that aren’t really dates even when she’s off again with Harry). She’s still herself but she starts to use the power she’s been wielding in high school to her advantage. She still spends lunches by their side and still falls asleep on his shoulder. She’s still MJ, just more.
He’ll happily admit (in private and only to Ned) that Harry brings out some of the worst in MJ too. Since embarking on their tumultuous journey, MJ’s claws have sharpened slightly. She’s more catty and pointed, twisting her open honesty like a knife.
She always settles around him though. Late at night when she’s sleeping over and Ned is snoring in the top bunk, he gets the version of her that is soft and vulnerable, and scared. He learns she’s so terrified of love and having someone that close to her.
He gets to be the one to hold her when she comes over, barely holding back tears after her first time with Harry. He’s ready to brawl and get his knuckles bloody but then she explains that it’d been good, enjoyable as far as first times go. He’s still frustrated but the violent tendencies subsides ever so slightly. Harry had told her he loved her. Not before or after but during and no mention of it after.
He learns that people can be scared of love but still want it so desperately. He learns that people can love for the wrong reason and feels violent that MJ was on the receiving end of that lesson too.
He holds her a little closer.
“I don’t have time for this,” Peter whines as MJ tries to distract him yet again with another game of squares. It’s a quiet day at her work, and usually he’d be entirely interested in procrastinating with her but he’s realised the cost of college and realised his wallet is missing a little more than a couple cents.
“I didn’t realise moping made money, Petey.”
“I hate it when you call me that.”
MJ shrugs and pushes the pen and paper to him again, cheek resting on the ball of her fist. “And I hate it when you clog the vibes in my happy place.”
“Anywhere that capitalism is pervasive and palpable is not your happy place.” He retorts, reciting her own words that he’s heard just a couple times before. Really, only a few.
“Good thing this is a socialist utopia.” She says sliding across the half eaten donut she’d stolen from the case earlier. He wants to say he’s too stressed to eat but he bites down anyway. “We’re going out tonight.”
He groans and drops his head to the counter before grimacing and remembering she hadn’t wiped it down before he sat down. “I can’t go to a party. I need to get a job! I need to figure out how I’m gonna pay for college.”
“And you of all people wont achieve that in a night.” She says with a snort and Peter is offended. What happened to supportive friendships? Where was Ned when you needed him?
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ll continue to mope, procrastinate then go swing and distract yourself with new problems. You’ll likely be a little sloppy because you’re distracted but you’ll keep at it until you're positive that you’ll feel rotten again tomorrow.” He can’t find a reply because she’s right. Like always. He groans again.
“Going out isn’t going to fix that.”
They go out.
MJ’s version of out is just buying cheap beer with the fake ID Harry had gifted her for her birthday and sitting on a rooftop, decidedly not talking about anything serious.
“I don’t think I can get drunk,” Peter says after grimacing through another sip. He hates the taste of it, but its the first time he’s felt like a normal kid again in years. There’s no worries about villains or heroes. Only school, MJ and shitty alcohol that they shouldn’t even have.
“Then don’t try to.”
“Then why am I drinking this?” He knows what she’ll do. She’ll spin the question back on him with a cock of her head.
“I don’t know. Why are you?” MJ asks in an entirely predictable way.
“You said it would help!”
“And it is. You’re busy thinking about why you’re drinking shitty beer rather than going out, causing more problems for yourself and moping about it tomorrow. I’m a problem solver. I solved your problem.”
Peter snorts. “You didn’t solve shit.”
He flicks his bottle cap up and goes to Web it. He misses, the embarrassment is worth the sound of her laugh. “Thought you couldn’t get drunk.”
“I said I think I can’t!”
“That’s a dangerous hobby for you.”
“You’re so annoying”
“Correct,” She says, pointing at him with the hand she has curled around her beer bottle.
He can hear a bit of commotion below. “I swear I saw some webbing! He’s gotta be around here somewhere.” He peers over the edge to see two guys running around with cameras. He suspects they’re looking for him, well. Another version of him, but he can’t figure out why.
MJ seems to sense his confusion. She doesn’t even look down at the ground, only bringing her bottle up. “There’s big bucks on the line if you can get a photo of Spidey.” She hums around the lip of her bottle. He might normally be distracted from the commotion below by the sight but tonight it’s her words that grip him.
“There is?”
“Mhm.”
“Did you know about this?”
“I did.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“Spider-Man isn’t the friend I wanted to drink cheap beer tonight with.” She shrugged and Peter smiled. It’s possibly one of the things he loved the most about MJ was her uncanny ability to not care about his heroics. Ned was amazing and perfect and so supportive but he was understandably excited that their lives were that of comic books. MJ didn’t care. She reminded him it was okay to be Peter sometimes.
He's 17 when he next finds love in Gwen Stacy. She's a late transfer to the school, and has him stumbling over his words when she knows his name.
By 18, he thinks he's found the May to his Ben. She's smart, so smart. Possibly smarter than him smart. So pretty, could be put in a museum pretty and funny in a way that leaves him bright and happy. She's the girl next door to his unlikely superhero, not that she knows that, of course, and Peter has never felt happier.
There's something about Gwen. From her smile, to her hair, to her kindness, her drive. Hell, even her attitude, she unafraid to dig her claws in when needed and it's impossible to replicate and he wouldn't wish to.
"We get it, you wanna do her 24/7." MJ sighs from where she's sprawled across his bed like she owns it. With the amount she's stayed over, she at least has joint custody over it.
He squawks indignantly because whilst she's not wrong, he doesn't want his romantics tainted with crudeness. He's a teenage boy for crying out loud, of course he hopes his Valentines plans will end pleasantly. "This is about love, Michelle." He huffs and she just rolls her eyes.
"And you just love to fuc-"
"Michelle!" MJ starts laughing at him, head tipping back against his pillows, and they'll undoubtedly smell like her shampoo long after she's gone. He went and found the brand she uses the last time she'd been out of state, visiting family and started to use it. His hair didn't appreciate the switch and he had to quickly return to his old brand but in the days she was gone it provided a comfort for when he returned from patrol. "Not everyone is like you and Harry, y’know. Someone people actually enjoy dating."
"I enjoy dating very, very much, Tiger."
"I'm aware." He grumbles under his breath, still slightly mortified from the time he'd decided to swing by her place and be audience to a cacophony of moans upon his arrival on her fire escape. Thinking about it left a rotten taste in his mouth. He puts it down the fact that Michelle deserves better than Harry Osborn. She's one of his best friends and she's in a relationship that's never going to give her the kind of love he has with Gwen. He just wants the best for her and she doesn't seem to care. "I just mean, some of us enjoy the cheesy stuff. The romantics of it all."
It's a longstanding argument that will never be settled between them. Even with her new friends, MJ is forever aloof and distant when it comes to matters of the heart. Even more so when those matters include her own. "Hey! Whatever gets you going, Pete. I'm not here to judge."
"No. You're here to tell me if this is a good plan or not. So?"
Roses, candles, her favourite composers in a Spotify playlist, a walk around Central Park. It would have ideally been a swing by Gwen’s recently followed after her dad and decided Spider-Man is not a friendly figure. He's not ruining Valentines with that nonsense. They'd get dinner from a place that's WAY too expensive, come back here while May is out and... well, follow through with MJs advice. Hopefully. He also had a list of her favourites movies on hand and already rented if not.
"It sounds dull and boring. You'll both love it." She drawls, not looking at him as she unlocks on her phone and boredly begins to scroll through it.
"Hey! Be nice." MJ sighs and drops her phone slightly to look at him over the screen, unimpressed by his rightful indignation.
"I am being nice! You're a boring couple. There's nothing wrong with that."
"You make it sound bad."
"Boring isn't bad. It's just not exciting. You're literally so perfect for each other, you’re both too uptight and wound up. Exciting wouldn’t work there." She’s not entirely wrong. Both he and Gwen can be a little tightly wound. They both have full plates loaded with vastly different things and can often get overwhelmed by that. Sometimes they’re an echo chamber for each other’s anxieties, but its nice for someone to understand the heavy burden of expectations.
"You still sound mean."
"Then don't listen to me." Her voice is forcibly remaining neutral, there’s a new kind of tension beginning to build between them.
"Maybe I won't. Especially since you’ve got no room to judge." He can see MJ roll her eyes behind her phone. The sound of her fingers tapping against the screen only serving to fuel his frustration as he realises she’s probably texting Harry.
"I'm not getting into this. It's a good night for you two. You'll love it."
"You started this!"
"You asked my opinion, Peter. I gave it."
"You were being cruel." MJ looks at him, and he knows he’s struck a chord. She is trying to be nicer in general. The way she pushes people away a long standing insecurity of hers. "I was being honest." She sighs, and later Peter will eat himself a live for how he’d let his stupid teenage boy brain run his mouth rampant. He can figure out the physics and mathematical trajectory of swinging a flying car at an overgrown lizard in a matter of seconds but he can’t figure out how to shut up.
"You know. Maybe that's why Harry won't say he loves you unless he's got his dick in you." He huffs, anger boiling over. “It’s the only time you won’t mock him for it.”
He doesn't know where it came from. He doesn't know why he even said it. She'd shared that with him in the dead of night long after Ned had fallen asleep and they were left side by side. It's an insecurity of hers he's certain has only graced his ears and he's thrown it back in her face.
At the time, anger and humiliation had been too heavy on him to really realise the impact of what he'd said. It isn't until later when he can't focus on Gwen's lips against his neck or the feeling of his hand in her hair that he realises something's off with him. It's the next day when MJ isn't answering his calls or his texts that his anger makes way for concern. Its a few days later when he still hasn't heard from her and she skips out on their standing coffee catch-up that he realises hearts can break for friends too.
It's when her window's closed when he swings by on patrol that Peter understands the damage that’s been done.
"Are we boring?" He asks Gwen a week later. He's been fluctuating between upset, angry and downright distraught in MJ's absence. Today, he just feels a little bitter. Gwen's easy laugh soothes him. The hand stroking through his hair doesn't hurt either.
"A little bit." She says with a smile, and he gawks up at her, making her laugh once more. "It's not a bad thing. I like being boring with you. I like that I don't need to think or be anything other than here when I spend time with you." She says and it settles something in Peter. It's so domestic and loving. So like something Ben would say to May and he grins up at her dopely.
"MJ thinks we're boring."
"And since when did MJ's opinion on our relationship matter?" Gwen asks, and it makes so sense but he can't find it in himself to agree with her. Peter lives to hear MJ's opinion on things. Even in the early days of their friendship, he'd started to sit closer to her to hear her muttered musings on the class or the gossip of the day. His favourite was when they went on field trips - ones he actually managed to stay for the entirety of and he got to hear her mumbled thoughts on the wider world. MJ's opinion had guided and helped him so many times in the suit. It mattered. He cared what she thought. His eyes flick to his phone which still lacks any contact from the girl in question. Gwen must catch it because She sighs and brushes her hand through his hair one more time. "She’ll come around, Pete. She's just licking her wounds."
He knows it's meant to help, but it doesn't. It only serves to feed a nightmare later on of her battered and bruised by his words.
Like with Liz, he learns with MJ that loves can leave your life for reasons other than death. While he'd deeply disappointed Liz and been a key player in the loss of the life she'd known, the loss of MJ aches in a much deeper way. Peter is nothing short of an expert on loss though, and survives that heartbreak. He pushes through the pain with plenty of unsent messages to her anytime he saw something that she might like.
He can't help himself from checking her twitter and Instagram every now and then. The urge to know how she's doing increases when she's no longer in the same city as him for college. He gets a small comfort from the knowledge she does exactly the same when a rogue notification on a photo from his first semester at ESU appears with her name next to it.
He stares at their long abandoned texts for ten minutes before locking his phone and continuing on with his day.
By the time he's 21, he's a pro at relationships ending with a fizzle instead of a bang. Gwen heads off to England for school and their relationship doesn't survive the journey. Surprisingly he's okay with it. It's the least painful loss he's experienced. They'd gotten to a point where they'd begun to outgrow each other and their futures couldn't be built on a foundation of poorly kept secrets.
By 22, one thing Peter knows for certain is that love lost isn't one you get over easily, even if you part ways well enough. He still has alarms set in his phone for the mornings when Gwen would stay over. For a girl so perfect, she could over sleep so easily. It's been three months of them waking him up every Wednesday and Saturday morning. Each time he grumbles and huffs, dismissing the alarm and going back to sleep. Each time he 'forgets' to turn them off once he's properly awake. Really he's just keeping a little bit of her with him.
It's the same reason why he hovers for a moment next to the teas anytime he runs in to get coffee. He can only really afford the instant crap so it's not like he needs to deliberate for long, but as his eyes fall across the rows of boxes; Earl Greys, English Breakfast, Green, Lavender, he lingers for a second trying to imagine what MJ might be in the mood for. One day on the anniversary of Ben's death, when he's seeking a little bit of extra comfort, he indulges and buys a box of a chamomile that MJ had kept at May's once in high school. The smell calms him though he hates the taste and May seems to enjoy it though.
He meets her again at 23, in the same tea aisle he’d been visiting for well over a year. Its been nearly five years since they’d really seen each other but as soon as he turns the corner he knows its her.
His fight or flight kicks in while his heart seemingly kicks the bucket as she turns to face him. She’s always been beautiful but time and college have matured that beauty, refined it into something he’s pretty sure resembles fucking Aphrodite because he can’t seem to get his words out.
“Sorry, am I in your-“ She starts to say and he sees the moment she registers the fact its him. Part of him is grinning, gloating to no one about the fact she remembers him. The other part, the bigger majority, is terrified about what will follow. “Small world.”
He nods lamely, wetting his lips. He doesn’t agree, because if the world were so small they would have been forced back together sooner. He looks down at the box in her hands and seeing its one he’d tried before. “That one’s shit.” He says and cringes both internally and visibly about his opener. MJ, blissfully, laughs in his face and his heart xlenches with how much he’s missed the sound. He wants to bottle it up in case he’s cursed with another drought.
“You don’t have the right pallet for it.”
“I never was good at art.”
“That’s not-...” She says with a smile and a shake of her head. He feels like he’s in a dream. One of the best he’s had in a while. There’s a lull of silence between them. “We should catch up.” Peter pinches the arm that’s Juggling his ready meals. “Ned is bad at keeping me up to date.”
He pinches his arm again. He’s awake. Definitely awake and feeling ridiculously stupid that hed never thought to ask Ned about her, just assuming that his best friend had sided with him in this weird divorce. That’s not Ned though. “Coffee?” He says swallowing hope down.
“I’ll make the exception for you.”
Within one week he’s seen MJ more times than he has over the last five years. He learns that love lost doesn’t always mean forever.
They so easily fall back into their same banter. He spends a lot of his time wondering how he never moved past platonic love for her. Within two weeks, he’s struggling to walk in a straight line and not fall head over heels for her.
The memory of their last fight is a good motivator to stand up straight.
She’s always round his place and he stops by hers most evenings after patrols. They’re in each other’s orbit so much that they’ve started to exchange paparazzi, because MJ has started to build a name for herself, a long way from the girl who started theatre on the recommendation of a boy. The few that follow her round haunt the blocks by his place and the Spidey Spotters start to linger new her building.
"I'm sorry." He blurts out one evening. They’re having take out at his place and seeing her so comfortable in his space makes it infinitely more difficult to not trip down the stairs of his heart. At this point, it’d probably be more like falling down an elevator shaft. Sudden, fast and with a hard realization at the end.
"What? I'm not actually upset you took the last dumpling. I know you eat more than the entire city.” MJ laughed, bringing her knees up to her chest. The sweatpants she’d borrowed from him riding up her calves even more. She favours fashion over comfort now when they’re out in public. Something about an ‘image’. He doesn’t understand, thinking that the fits she pulls together are just the flip side of the coin of the ones she wore in high school. She’s still MJ, weird and out there, wearing her opinions on her sleeve, or-... torso, rather, but she does it in a more refined way now; blazers from sustainable brands, up and coming black designers trying to get a foot in the world, weird patterns and textures that wouldn’t work on anyone else. MJ uses her recent climb to the D or G list to wear them all.
"No. For what I said." He swallows and looks up at her, he needs to know he's serious. "Back in high school. About Harry."
She goes silent for a long time, but Peter doesn't regret talking. It's for too long overdue. "It's okay. It was a long time ago. I-... I forgave you a while back." And as comforting as that's meant to be, it hurts more.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I was embarrassed I guess.” She admits. He isn’t sure how much more hurt his heart can take. “I trusted you with that, and then I’d been immature about the thing with you and Gwen. It was just a lot. Then too long had passed. It was easier to just-"
"Stalk me through socials?" She nods with a laugh and he knows he'd been caught out too.
"How about we start over?"
"I don't want to start over." He says immediately, eyes going wide. There's too many good memories that he doesn’t want to ignore in favour of one bad one. "We never actually said goodbye to each other so... why don't we just pick up where we left off?" He suggest hopefully. MJ watches him, a small smile spreading across her features. It's been a long time since he's got to see that one in person and it sends butterflies cascading down into his stomach and he feels as though he’s falling from the Chrysler building with no intention of swinging away.
There’s a fear that stops him from going any further than friendship. Their first few months together are magic and they do indeed pick up exactly where they left off. He wont let his free fall into feelings for her ruin that.
Pretending not to be in love with MJ is hard. Especially when she makes it so damn easy to love her.
Even when they fight, because they do fight. She’s an actress and he’s a superhero. They both have a perchance for the dramatics. The way she looks when he comes home to her in his apartment, apology in hand and ready to talk through their argument, or the way she looks when he’s standing on her doorstep, ready to do the same, it makes his heart grow tens times in size.
More than once he has to swallow down the words. He takes Ben’s advice and let’s flowers say them instead. From big bouquets on show days to daisies he stole from a garden, he gives them always and often.
He finds a glass necklace of her favourite flower and gives it to her on a big opening night for a play he didn’t understand a single part of.
That had been his favourite before he’d even offered it out. It said everything it needed to, and only he would know the words, and that was okay.
It became his favourite for an entirely different reason when after pooling the chain in her hands, he’s pressed up against the wall with her hands on him and her lips on his.
Six months of drawing in his feelings and she throws him a lifeline.
“I’m in love with you.” She says breathlessly, forehead against his, her eyes still closed. The words come as easy as breathing to her, and for a moment he’s jealous that she can so bravely share them until they’re tumbling out of him with just as much ease.
He’s 28 and swapped his Spidey suit for a monkey one. He’s learnt a lot through his relationships over the years and if the bumper of break ups he and MJ have gone through is any indication, he’s still not an expert at love.
He probably never will be.
The doors at the ends of the aisle open and MJ stands like a vision in white, her hair pinned up but the red still seeps through the veil trailing down her back.
If that is what fool’s gold looks like then he’ll happily never learn another thing.
“Who’s that?” Peter asks pointing at the photo May is looking at, leaning over the back of the sofa to get a better look. In the photo a woman is stood next to May, holding her arm and laughing into her neck, Ben is nowhere to be seen.
“That was my first girlfriend, Taylor. We dated for a long time before I dated your uncle. I actually hated him at this point. Real asshole.” May explained, a wistful smile on her face. “We bumped into each other recently.”
“W-What?” He frowned, the news taking him by surprise. He’d always thought of May and Ben as the pinnacle of love. The thing you sought for your entire life, they had it. They were each other’s first and last. “I thought Ben was your soulmate!”
“He is.”
Peter continued to frown, it wasn’t adding up in his mind, “Then how did you hate him?”
“Your uncle was too much of a romantic to ruin this idea for you, wasn’t he?” She sighed either a smile, twisting to look at him. “If soulmates do exist they aren’t found, they’re made.”
“Do you, Peter Benjamin Parker, take Michelle to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, till- sorry. Till you can no longer return home?”
“I do.”
“People meet, they get a good feeling and they get to work building a relationship. Things aren’t always easy and sometimes they don’t even start out well. People don’t magically come together because someone’s proved they should. That’s not enough to keep people together. It’s about work and reminding each other daily what you have and what you want.”
It reminds him of a lesson that Ben had taught him, and only reaffirms how well they worked together.
“And do you, Michelle Jones-Watson, take Peter to be your husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, until you can no longer return home?”
“I do.”