Chapter Text
Peter Parker had his best friend back.
This was, objectively, up there with some of the greatest things that had ever happened to him.
Possibly tied with getting superpowers.
Actually—
No. Better. Definitely way better.
Superpowers had eventually led to aliens, multiple concussions, several governmental investigations, one accidental multiversal incident, and the deeply upsetting discovery that his wrists now contained web-glands—
For the first week after Ned remembered him, they spent almost all of their free time at Peter’s apartment.
The second week wasn’t much different.
Neither was the third...
It was—
Perfect.
Mostly.
“Whoa, dude. Who soldered this?”
Peter looked up from the tiny circuit board. “What’s wrong with it?”
Ned slowly turned it around between his fingers. “What isn’t?”
Peter frowned. “Okay, just because you have an engineering degree—”
“You fought Thanos!”
“I don’t see how that’s relevant—”
“You have access to alien technology!”
Peter pointed accusingly at him. “You’ve been back in my life with all your memories for, what, a month, and you’re already criticizing my craftsmanship?”
“Somebody has to!”
Peter grinned so hard his cheeks hurt. Ned smiled back.
And Peter’s web glands gave a small, irritating twitch beneath his wrists.
He ignored it. He’d been doing a lot of that lately.
“Anyway,” Ned continued, “I think I can increase the signal range by at least thirty percent?”
Peter’s head snapped back up. “Seriously?”
Ned’s grin widened.
And just like that—
They were seventeen again.
Except Ned had curlier hair now.
—
Peter met Ned’s friends from college on a Thursday.
He was suddenly, profoundly grateful that he’d declined every invitation to meet them while he and Ned had been—
Uh.
Yeah.
That.
Ned introduced him as his childhood best friend.
Which was true.
Yeah.
Peter tried not to dwell on it while shaking hands with them.
He’d been a little—very—nervous about this, if he was being honest.
Fortunately, Ned’s friends were—
Nice.
Really nice, actually.
Annoyingly nice.
One of them worked in cybersecurity, another had once watched Ned accidentally set off a dorm fire alarm making instant ramen, and all three of them seemed delighted by the revelation that Ned had apparently possessed an entire childhood best friend he’d somehow neglected to mention until recently.
By the end of the night, they’d invited Peter to a party they were having that weekend.
Peter said yes before he could overthink it.
Ned smiled at him from across the table.
And Peter smiled back.
Things were going great.
Suspiciously great, actually.
—
But…They still hadn’t talked about it, a month post-everything.
It wasn’t like they were avoiding it? There were just…other things to talk about!
Peter had fought the Hand, for example. Ned had been extremely excited to hear about that. He also brought him up to speed about Jean. Frank. How he’d recently discovered his lawyer was also the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. His body manufactured organic web fluid now—
Ned seemed to circle back to that one most often.
“You know,” Ned said one night over dinner, “I still think we should study that—”
Peter nearly dropped his chopsticks. “Absolutely not—!”
“For science!”
“Ned!”
Ned sighed dramatically and stole one of Peter’s pork dumplings.
It was the same restaurant. Same booth, actually as their first—
If Ned noticed too, he didn’t mention it.
So neither did Peter.
His wrist twitched when their knees bumped beneath the table.
Peter concentrated very hard on his noodles.
—
MJ got her memories back a little over a month after Ned did.
Jean had warned Peter it would take time. Apparently, restoring years’ worth of magically erased memories was, in her words, ‘Not like restarting somebody’s router, Peter.’ She needed time to recharge.
Peter understood that! And he was more than grateful to her for even helping him with this in the first place.
Emotionally, he spent the next several weeks jumping every time his phone buzzed.
He and MJ hadn't spoken since that afternoon outside her and Ned’s apartment. Since she'd looked at him with…well pretty valid…judgment in her eyes and asked him what the hell he thought he was doing with—
Yeah.
So, Peter hadn't exactly been avoiding her.
He just—
….Hadn’t gone anywhere she might conceivably be.
But of course, he wanted MJ in his life again. In some real way. He wanted her to remember the school trips and the stupid jokes and the necklace and the bridge and the thousand tiny moments that had once belonged only to them.
He wanted her to remember that they'd been real.
So when his phone rang on a Tuesday afternoon, Peter answered before the first ring had properly finished.
“Hello??”
Silence.
Then—
“Hey, loser.”
Peter’s breath caught. The city seemed to disappear around him.
She hadn't called him that in five years. Not like that. Not with that exact little curl of affection tucked beneath the insult.
His throat closed.
“...MJ?”
“Yeah.” Her voice sounded choked up as well. “Can you come meet me?”
Peter was already pulling his mask on.
—
He got to the library in four minutes.
It should have taken twenty.
MJ was sitting on the low concrete wall outside the entrance when Peter rounded the corner, backpack tucked between her shoes.
Peter stopped several yards away.
MJ looked up. And there it was. Recognition. Not confusion. Not suspicion. She looked at him and knew him.
Peter's eyes burned immediately. “MJ,” he breathed.
MJ's mouth twitched. “Wow. You're already crying.” Though her eyes were suspiciously pink.
Peter laughed helplessly and scrubbed beneath one eye. “Can you blame me?”
MJ laughed, it was wet around the edges, and shook her head.
Peter's chest cracked open.
He crossed the distance between them before he could think better of it, then stopped directly in front of her because—
Could he hug her?
Did she want that?
What were the rules here?
MJ stared up at him. “You're doing the thing.”
“What thing?”
“The thing where you think so hard your face looks constipated.”
Peter made an offended noise.
Then MJ stood and hugged him.
Peter buried his face against her hair and felt the first tear slip down his cheek.
“I remember,” she whispered.
His breath hitched.
“I remember everything.”
Peter closed his eyes and felt his arm lock up around her.
MJ eventually pulled back first, but her hands stayed curled around his arms.
Peter looked at her face and gently wiped a tear. “When?”
“About forty minutes ago…I had what I can only describe as several years' worth of catastrophic emotional revelations next to the periodicals section.”
Despite everything, Peter laughed.
MJ's mouth quirked. “I needed a minute.”
“I understand…”
They sat together on the wall.
For a while neither of them spoke.
Cars passed.
Someone came out of the library carrying an unreasonable number of books.
Peter picked at a loose thread on his sleeve.
Finally MJ said, “I remember loving you. I feel it.”
Peter’s pulse fluttered.
“I remember all of it. How annoyingly self-sacrificial you were…”
Peter gave a watery laugh.
She looked at him then, with the same warm brown eyes that made Peter feel like he’d always have a home to return to. “I loved you, Peter.”
His eyes burned harder.
MJ swallowed. “So much.”
Peter looked down.
“MJ—”
“And I still do.”
He looked back up.
She gave him a sad little smile. “Of course I do.”
Something inside Peter, something he'd been carrying for five years without ever really naming it, finally loosened.
She remembered.
She remembered him.
She remembered loving him.
He hadn't imagined it.
It hadn't become meaningless just because she'd forgotten.
It had happened. They had happened.
Peter's vision blurred.
MJ watched another tear roll down his cheek. “Okay, now you're definitely crying.”
Peter laughed and wiped at his face. “Yeah…”
“Gross.”
“Yeah.”
“I love you,” MJ looked down at her hands. “But I don't think I can be with you, right now.”
The words stung. Of course they did.
But not like Peter expected.
There was no sudden collapse beneath his ribs. No desperate instinct to bargain.
Just an ache.
Deep.
Old.
Familiar.
MJ continued before he could say anything. “I don't think I can be with anyone right now, honestly...”
Peter nodded slowly.
She glanced at him. “And you know…This isn't me saying maybe in six months, or wait for me, or—”
“I know.”
MJ stopped.
Peter managed a small smile. “I know.”
And strangely—
God.
It felt like relief.
Not because he didn't love her. He did. A part of him always would.
But for so long, the end of them had felt unfinished. Like somebody had ripped pages out of a book halfway through the sentence and told Peter to live with never knowing how it ended.
Now—
Here it was.
Maybe not the ending he'd once wanted.
But it was one they’d found their way to together.
Peter's puffy eyes softened. “I’ll always love you, MJ.”
MJ's eyes filled again. She immediately looked annoyed about it. “Great. Look what you did.”
Peter laughed through his tears.
MJ wiped quickly beneath her eyes. When she looked back at him, her expression was softer. “I'll always love you too, Peter.”
Peter opened his arms hesitantly.
MJ rolled her eyes.
“Oh, just come here.”
He did.
They held each other outside the library while people walked around them and New York continued being aggressively uninterested in their emotional rollercoaster.
Peter rested his chin against her shoulder.
MJ squeezed him once. Then, eventually, they let go.
It hurt. First loves always did like that.
It took a few seconds before the thought caught up with him.
First.
First?
First implied a second.
—
Two months later, Peter officially moved in with MJ and Ned—though, by then, he’d already been quietly doing so for weeks, ever since they’d both gotten their memories back.
MJ reminded him of this. “You have like six shirts here and your toothbrush has been here since June.”
Peter looked toward Ned for support.
Ned comically averted his eyes and continued eating cereal.
“Traitor…” Peter muttered.
“I'm staying out of this!”
So he moved in officially.
It was exactly what they had planned years ago.
Except they were older. And somehow, impossibly—together again.
Peter woke to Ned trying to verbally reason with the coffee machine.
MJ stole his walkie-talkies.
Ned left circuit boards across every available flat surface.
Peter occasionally came home through the window and got yelled at for tracking rainwater across the floor.
It was wonderful.
Peter had gotten exactly what he wanted.
So naturally—
He became quite a bit confused as to why everything still felt odd and off-center…Not with MJ—Which is frankly what he’d been expecting…
But with Ned…
Every time Ned made him laugh, Peter’s gaze lingered a bit too long afterward and nowadays he couldn’t blame it on ‘Yearning for my best friend to remember me’ or anything like that—
When they all watched movies together, Ned would sometimes sling an arm along the back of the couch behind Peter. And that was normal. Ned had always been cuddly. He did the same thing with MJ whenever she joined them instead of curling up in her own beanbag.
Except now Peter was acutely aware of the weight of his arm.
And his smell.
And the warmth of his leg pressed against Peter’s.
And—
Twitch.
Peter glared at his wrists.
Traitors.
—
MJ cornered him one evening while Ned was out with coworkers.
“So.”
Peter looked up from the kitchen table, where he’d been tinkering with one of the components from his suit.
MJ sat across from him.
“Are you two like ever going to address what happened?”
The screw slipped from his fingers.
“Huh?”
“Don’t huh me, Peter—”
Peter rubbed the back of his neck.
“I—” Peter cleared his throat. “You were right.”
MJ blinked.
“I should’ve told him. What I knew. Who I was. It wasn’t fair, and then when you confronted me I ran, and I know from your side that must’ve been incredibly confusing—”
“Peter.”
He stopped.
MJ shrugged. “With the memories back…I get it more now.”
“You do?”
“You guys were stupidly close.”
Peter smiled faintly.
“So yeah,” MJ continued. “I can believe you saw the whole dating thing as just getting your best friend back, plus kissing.”
Peter choked.
MJ raised an eyebrow. “Which is still incredibly dense….But I get it more now,”
Relief moved through him.
He opened his mouth.
Yeah.
Exactly.
That was—
Except…
MJ tilted her head, noticing the hesitation. “Unless?”
Peter stared at the table. “I think it was that,” he admitted. “For a while.”
MJ waited.
“I was just so happy to have him around again. And dating him meant I got to…keep him close.” He swallowed. “But now I have him back.”
MJ’s expression flickered with silent realization as Peter continued to ramble,
“…And it’s just like before. He knows everything. We do all the old stuff again. And I’m happy. I’m so happy, MJ—”
“But?” MJ finally interjected.
Peter laughed weakly. “But I keep feeling like I lost something.”
There.
He stared miserably at his hands.
“Does that make me horrible? Because you literally just got your memories back and I don’t want this to sound like I just moved on from you or Ned was a rebound or—”
“Peter.”
He stopped.
MJ reached across the table and flicked his forehead.
“Ow..”
“You’re allowed to fall in love again, dummy.”
Peter went very still.
“It doesn’t mean what we had wasn’t real,” she said, with a shrug. “Love changes shape all the time.”
Peter stared at her.
MJ slowly smirked. “And for what it’s worth, you look at him like an idiot.”
Peter frowned. “What does that mean…?”
“You’ll figure it out.”
—
Peter figured it out four days later.
They were sitting on the floor of Ned’s—and now technically his—bedroom with a small mountain of salvaged, purchased, and questionably acquired technology spread between them.
Most of it was currently attached to Peter.
“You know,” Peter said, eyeing the small sensor Ned had taped along the inside of his forearm, “when I finally agreed to let you study the organic webbing, I pictured significantly fewer electrodes—”
“Five isn’t that much!”
“That feels like a significant number—”
“Biological web-producing glands connected to tiny openings in your wrists is significant, Peter—”
“....I’m revoking your research privileges.”
“You already signed the consent form.” Ned all-but beamed.
Peter’s ears grew pink. “That was so not legally binding—”
“It had your signature—”
“It was written on the back of a takeout menu!”
Ned grinned and turned his attention back to Peter’s wrist.
Peter had resisted this for a while.
Mostly because the phrases web-gland examination and Ned Leeds had recently developed an association Peter preferred not to investigate.
But Ned had been relentless.
And, annoyingly, he’d had an actual point.
Peter’s organic webbing had never been particularly consistent. Sometimes it worked perfectly. But sometimes the output weakened when he was exhausted. Sometimes one wrist clogged while the other didn’t. And then there was the increasingly documented phenomenon in which his glands seemed to contract completely independently of Peter’s conscious intentions.
Ned had called that last one “fascinating.”
Peter had thought of it as “mortifying”
Eventually science had won.
“Okay,” Ned sounded excited, “Try firing one?”
Peter aimed toward the empty cardboard box they’d set against the wall.
Thwip.
A strand hit dead center.
Ned glanced at the tablet beside him.
“Huh.”
Peter lowered his arm. “Good huh or horrifying medical discovery huh?”
“Good huh! Definitely good.”
“Okay…”
“Do it again?”
Thwip.
“Huh.”
“Ned—”
“My bad! Still good—” He picked up a small handheld scanner and moved closer. “I think the pressure buildup starts farther up your forearm than we thought.”
Peter frowned. “Meaning?”
“Meaning I don’t think the glands themselves are generating all the force.”
Ned caught Peter gently by the wrist and turned his hand palm-up.
Twitch.
Peter went still.
Ned didn’t notice.
He was already running the scanner slowly along the inside of Peter’s arm.
“There.” Ned’s eyebrows drew together. “See that spike?”
Peter leaned over to look at the tablet, already analyzing the graph’s pattern—then Ned’s thumb shifted against the inside of his wrist, pressing lightly just beneath the heel of his palm.
Twitch.
Peter stared at the top of Ned’s head.
Nope. Not doing this.
Ned pressed again, gentler this time.
“Tell me if this hurts?”
“It doesn’t—” Peter prevented a voice crack.
“What about here?”
His fingers moved slightly higher.
Peter’s glands gave another small contraction beneath the skin. His stomach flipped.
“That?”
“No….”
Ned glanced up.
Peter realized, belatedly, that Ned was still holding his wrist.
Their eyes met.
There was a beat.
“What?” Ned asked, tilting his head.
Peter blinked. “Nothing...”
“I think there’s a muscular contraction here first,” Ned said, tracing two fingers lightly along the inside of Peter’s forearm. “Then the gland compresses and forces the web fluid through the duct.”
Peter watched his fingers move, entranced. “Like a hydraulic system?”
“Kind of!” Ned nodded, enthusiastic. He adjusted his grip again.
Twitch.
Peter’s jaw tightened.
Jesus Christ.
Apparently his body had not gotten the memo that they were best friends again.
…Peter’s stomach did something strange.
And it was becoming increasingly impossible to blame all of this on partial arachnid physiology alone.
He looked down at Ned’s hand around his wrist.
At how casually it rested there.
Ned, completely oblivious to Peter’s latest internal crisis, glanced at the readings again.
“Oh, that’s interesting!”
Peter swallowed. “What?”
“The gland contracted again.”
Peter nearly blanched.
Ned frowned at the tablet. “You didn’t fire anything…?”
“Uh, no—.”
“Did you consciously trigger it?”
Peter stared at him. “No…?.”
Ned’s thumb remained resting against Peter’s wrist.
A moment later—
Twitch.
Peter closed his eyes.
Right.
This was becoming ridiculous.
Ned finally released his wrist and leaned back, studying the tablet.
Peter immediately missed the contact.
Which was—
Yeah.
Ned tapped through several of the readings, humming to himself, apparently still unaware that Peter was experiencing a minor crisis approximately two feet away.
“Okay,” he said. “I think that’s probably enough baseline data for tonight.”
Peter looked at the collection of sensors still stuck to his arm. “Thank God.”
“Oh, relax, dude! You survived—”
“Debatable!”
Ned snorted and started peeling the sensors away one by one. “I really want some field data though —”
Peter chuckled. “Our bedroom floor isn’t a controlled enough environment for you?”
Ned grinned, “Oh it’s incredibly scientific. But, I do want to see what happens when you’re actually swinging. Heart rate, adrenaline, output pressure, how much webbing you’re producing over time—”
“You’re about to ask if you can wire me up during patrol aren’t you—”
“I was going to ask if I could lightly instrument you during patrol—”
Peter groaned.
“Dude, imagine the data—!”
Peter stared at him.
Ned clasped his hands together.
“C’mon, for science? Guy in the Chair privileges?”
Peter pretended to consider it for a moment before sighing dramatically and nodding—as if he could deny Ned anything at this point.
Ned gave a little whoop, and Peter laughed.
He set the tablet aside and they both began gathering the loose wires into something vaguely resembling organization.
The research portion of the evening, evidently was over.
Peter started tugging the last adhesive strip from his forearm.
“So,” Ned asked, genuinely curious, “You and MJ figured things out, right?”
Peter stopped halfway through peeling it off.
“Yeah,” Peter said, a little awkward but entirely earnest. “We talked. It went…really well, actually!”
Ned smiled, “I’m glad! She told me as much, but I didn’t wanna assume—”
And Peter meant it when he smiled back.
He did.
He loved MJ. She loved him. They had finally gotten to say goodbye to something that had never really been allowed to end properly.
It still hurt. But it was the kind of ache that was soft around the edges.
Ned returned his attention to Peter's glove. “So are you guys gonna…?”
Peter blinked. “Gonna what?”
Ned looked at him like this was obvious. “You know! Ever get back together?”
Peter's brain stopped. “Oh! Uh—”
“I mean, not immediately!” Ned laughed. “Obviously. You guys have, like, five years of emotional insanity to unpack first—”
Peter stared at him.
“But you know eventually!” Ned continued tinkering, with a chuckle. “And in the meantime, you know, this does mean you're still gonna have to be my wingman.”
Peter's stomach dropped in a way he did not appreciate. He opened his mouth.
Nothing.
Ned’s eyes snapped up at the sudden silence with concern. “Peter—?
Peter swallowed. “You want me to be your wingman?”
“Well—Yeah?”
The answer came so easily.
Peter imagined Ned at a bar.
Ned leaning toward somebody the way he'd once leaned across the table toward Peter.
That little confident twitch of a smile.
Ned touching somebody's wrist.
Calling them cute.
Kissing them.
Peter's glands contracted sharply.
“Hey, Peter? Earth to Peter—?”
Peter barely heard him.
There it was again.
That hollow feeling he'd been trying not to name since Ned got his memories back.
It made absolutely no sense.
This was what Peter wanted.
This was everything he'd wanted.
Ned remembered him.
Ned was his best friend.
They built things together again. Ate together. Watched movies together. Ned knew he was Spider-Man. Ned remembered May. Ned knew him.
Peter had his best friend back.
So why did the idea of helping Ned date somebody else feel like someone had just dropped a brick into his stomach?
Love changes shape all the time.
Peter closed his eyes.
Oh, for fuck's sake.
He opened them.
Ned was watching him now. Utter concern had replaced the easy smile.
Peter rubbed both hands over his face.
“Ned?”
“...Yeah?”
“Are we ever gonna talk about it?”
Ned tilted his head. “About what?”
Peter stared at him.
Ned stared back.
Peter gestured between them. Very meaningfully.
Nothing.
Peter gestured again.
Ned's eyebrows climbed.
Peter nearly lost his mind. “Us!”
“Oh.” Ned blinked.
Then—
“Ohhh.”
Peter stared at him in disbelief. “Seriously?”
“What?!”
“That's your reaction?”
“I didn't know what you were doing with your hands—!”
“The dating stuff, Ned! We dated for half a year!”
“Okay! Yeah! Okay uh—”
Peter's heart was pounding now.
And Ned—
Ned looked completely relaxed. If anything, he looked mildly amused and confused all at once. “Honestly, dude, I figured you didn't want to talk about it.”
Peter froze. “What?”
Ned shrugged. “You got all tense every time it almost came up.”
“I did not!” Peter probably totally did.
Ned gave him a look.
Peter reconsidered. “Okay. Maybe...” He covered his face.
Ned laughed softly. “Peter. Dude.”
He lowered his hands.
Ned's expression had softened. “I'm not mad about it, you know?”
Peter swallowed. “…No?”
“No.” Ned leaned backward on one hand. “I mean, in hindsight? It's objectively hilarious.”
Peter groaned.
Ned grinned. But then his face softened. “Seriously. I get why it happened….You missed me. And you were scared.”
Peter looked down and nodded. “...I did.”
“And then I apparently threw myself at you.”
Peter's head snapped up. “You did not throw yourself at me.”
“Dude, I called you ripped on our first date—”
“That doesn't mean—”
“And I asked you out again before I even got on the train.”
Peter's ears heated.
Ned smiled, sheepishly. “So, no. I'm not sitting here secretly traumatized because you went along with it.”
Peter forced himself to meet his eyes. “How do you feel about it, then? I mean, like really?”
Something changed in Ned's expression. Then he glanced down at the dismantled sensors between them. “I guess…I liked you?”
Peter's heart kicked.
Ned laughed softly. “Like, a lot.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
Peter's mouth upturned despite himself.
Ned rolled the screwdriver between his fingers. “You were super weird.”
“Thanks—”
“I mean that affectionately! But you were also funny. And sweet. And apparently insanely hot to a me that didn’t remember you, which was honestly confusing because you also had the social skills of someone who'd been raised in a bunker—”
Peter's entire face heated. “Dude—”
“What? You asked!”
“...I did.”
“You want honesty or not?”
Peter muttered, “Okay! Okay…Go on?”
Ned smiled. Then something quieter settled over him. “You made me feel…”
He paused.
Peter waited.
“Important.” Ned looked almost embarrassed by the admission. “Like you were always paying attention to me. Even when you were doing that thing where you'd disappear into your head. And yeah, now I know there was a reason for most of that….”
Peter's throat tightened.
Ned's smile turned a little crooked. “So to answer your question…Yeah, I liked dating you.”
Something warm and painful moved through Peter's chest. “But then when you remembered…we just—” Peter gestured between them again.
This time Ned understood immediately. “Stopped?”
Peter nodded, then quickly added, “Not that I expected anything! Of course not. I just—it felt weird not to address it at all.”
Ned considered him. “I figured that's what you wanted.”
Peter's eyes widened. “Why?”
“Dude.” Ned gave him a look. “You'd spent five years trying to get your life back. Then suddenly you did.” His voice softened. “You got me back. MJ got her memories back. Everything was finally…”
“Normal?”
“Something like it.” Ned shrugged. “I figured maybe dating me had been part of this odd middle period for you.”
Peter stared at him.
Ned smiled, but there was something slightly smaller about it now. “And I wasn't gonna make that weird.”
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Peter suddenly understood.
Ned hadn't been avoiding the conversation because it meant nothing to him.
He'd been doing exactly what Peter had been doing.
Giving him space.
Trying not to make something complicated even more complicated.
“Ned—”
“It's okay, dude—”
“No.” Peter's answer came too quickly.
Ned paused..
Peter's heart hammered.
You're allowed to fall in love again.
He looked at Ned.
Really looked.
At the curlier hair he'd noticed that first day.
The confidence that had completely thrown him during their first date.
The stupid expensive watch.
All the pieces that were new.
All the pieces that had always been there.
And suddenly Peter was so tired of being afraid of understanding himself.
“I did love MJ.” Peter swallowed. “I still do.”
“I know—” Ned said softly.
“And when I lost her…” Peter looked down at his hands. “It hurt almost exactly like losing you.”
Ned went quiet.
“I think that's part of why I didn't understand what was happening.” Peter's voice grew quieter. “I missed you both so much. And when I found you again, I told myself it didn't matter how I got you back.”
Peter exhaled faintly before continuing.
“Friend. Boyfriend. Guy who occasionally let me assemble his IKEA furniture suspiciously fast.”
“Eleven minutes—” Ned quipped to ease the tension like he always did.
“Still proud of that—”
“You should be.”
Peter smiled.
Then took a breath.
“But then I started learning you again.”
Ned went very still.
“And you weren't the same.” Peter met his eyes quickly. “There were all these pieces of you I hadn't gotten to see happen. You had this whole life. This career. Friends I'd never met. You drank iced coffee for some horrible reason—”
“It's good…” Ned said, though his voice had gone faint.
“It's bean water over ice.”
Ned's mouth twitched.
Peter took another breath.
“And I really liked learning those things.” His eyes burned. “I loved rediscovering everything old. But I fell for the new things too.”
Ned didn't move.
“And that's what I couldn't figure out.” Peter looked at him helplessly. “Because I've always loved you.”
The words seemed to hang between them.
“So it wasn't like there was some moment where I started loving Ned Leeds.”
Peter laughed weakly.
“That would've been easier.”
Ned's eyes were shining now.
“It was how I loved you.”
Peter's voice caught.
“How I wanted to love you.”
He moved a little closer.
“And I think maybe I didn't know I could love you that way before because…”
Peter shrugged helplessly.
“We never tried.”
Something in Ned's face cracked open.
Peter kept going.
“Back then, you were my best friend. And that was just…”
He smiled.
“Everything.”
Ned swallowed.
“But then all of this happened, and suddenly I got to know what it was like to flirt with you.”
Ned's mouth twitched.
“To date you.”
Peter's cheeks heated.
“To kiss you.”
Ned's eyes dropped briefly to Peter's mouth.
Peter noticed.
Of course he noticed.
“And now I have my best friend back.”
His voice went quiet.
“Exactly like I wanted.”
Ned looked at him.
“And somehow…”
Peter breathed out.
“I still miss my boyfriend.”
Silence.
Peter's eyes burned completely now. “Ned, you weren't a distraction from MJ.”
“I know—”
“No, I need you to understand.”
Peter reached for his hand and Ned let him take it.
“You could never be that.”
Their fingers curled together.
“You were something entirely new.”
Peter looked down at their hands. He staunchly ignored the thin whisps of webbing that were already trying to latch onto Ned.
“I fell for you. Not the memories I had of you. Not because I was lonely.”
He looked up again.
“You.”
Ned's breath caught.
“Just you.”
Peter squeezed his hand. His wrist twitched beneath Ned's palm.
Ned glanced down.
Peter groaned.
“Please ignore that.”
Ned laughed, watery and bright.
Peter laughed too.
Then it faded.
There was one last thing.
The most terrifying part.
Peter swallowed.
“So…”
Ned's eyes softened.
Peter's heart felt like it was trying to break through his ribs. He gave Ned a small, nervous smile.
Peter tightened his fingers around his.
“So…” Peter’s voice came out barely above a whisper. “Do you want to…try? This? Us? Again?”
Ned stared at him. Then that familiar half-dimpled smile slowly spread across his face. The same one from the café. The same one Peter had known for years.
And somehow—
Brand new.
“Yeah, Peter.” Ned squeezed his hand. “I really do.”
Peter stared at him for half a second. Then he laughed—small, breathless, almost disbelieving.
Ned smiled. And Peter leaned in.
This time, there was no misunderstanding. No missing memories. No secret sitting between them.
Ned met him halfway, and Peter kissed him. It was gentle. Warm. Still new.
When they pulled apart, the pair were still smiling.
And for the first time in a very long time, the future felt like something Peter could look forward to.
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