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"Look at him, already making art," Peter said, gazing at Walter.
The little boy was sitting on the table of Felicia's dining room, surrounded by coloring pencils and crayons and a stack of blank pages. Most of his "art" was colored, jagged lines that would have extended on the glass top of the table if his parents hadn't carefully given him only media that couldn't stain furniture or his clothes. They learnt it the hard way after they gave him markers and let him draw on the couch.
"A true Renaissance man, right?" Felicia replied, taking a sip from the coffee in her mug. "I wonder where he got his love for art from."
Peter chuckled. There was a time when it itched him so bad that Felicia was so blunt about everything. She never hid behind half-truths and misleading exteriors, not when it counted. Hearing her talk about her (hopefully past) criminal activities would have made his whole head red with anger some time ago, but that was before she had opened her heart to him.
There was this dull ache in his chest whenever the topic came around. Little things like "I wish my dad could see him" or "I swear, he would have liked you eventually" triggered it, and the guilt would become a permanent presence whenever he was around Felicia. The greatest thing about them was that there were no masks and no secrets, and yet Peter somehow managed to keep one from her, one that he knew was extremely important to her.
I have a son to protect, he would tell himself whenever it got too much. Looking at the little boy that was so immersed on drawing his jagged lines only proved it was the right option.
"I was thinking we could throw a party for Walt's birthday," Peter said, leaning back to the counter. It was strange how aclimated he was the place still when he hadn't been there in years. It was as if his muscle memory kicked in and brought all those days back, even when his brain couldn't keep up. "Nothing huge, just us and your mum and Miles and... maybe the Keeners? And uh... I was hoping to ask MJ to come but even I don't know if it's a good idea because it has been a while and I know she wants to meet Walt but maybe it's too soon? And ideally I'd also want Kamala to come but then if the others found out they'd think I'm singling her out. Plus, she would make me look lame to Walter and that would not be fun."
Felicia chuckled. "Peter, breathe."
He couldn't hold back a smile. "How does that sound to you, though? I wish we knew more people with kids Walter's age, or kids in general, but he can still have fun with us ancients, right?"
Felicia tilted her head to the side. "I don't know about you, but Walter has fun with me."
Peter frowned, but his smile didn't go away. "You had a headstart."
She playfully punched his shoulder, and when Peter pretended it hurt, she raised an eyebrow and he cut the act. "Kidding. He loves you, too."
Peter's heart might have grown a little bit bigger right then. "So, about the party?"
"Sure, you can invite anyone you want. I know you're careful with that."
He played with his fingers. "And you're fine with MJ as well?"
Felicia shook her head and put a hand on his bicep. "She's really important to you, and I respect that. Besides, she's not a bore to have around."
"And uh..." Peter scratched the back of his head. "What do we do legally? Because as of now I... have no idea what's going on. How do we both get custody? Walter and I aren't legally related now, are we?" He sighed. "I'm ruining our lazy Sunday, aren't I?"
Felicia put on that trademark half-smile and stood next to him, her eyes on their son. "I don't think anything could ruin this."
And Peter couldn't agree more. He'd say the peace he felt was inexplicable, but he knew better. He knew exactly what caused it. It was being there, in the house that held so many memories, touching the counter he'd jump at in the early mornings while Felicia was making coffee. It was being close with her again, his heart racing and mind chanting oh no, I'm falling in love again, the entirety of him an amalgam of panic and excitement and hope and fear. It was coming undone whenever her eyes fell on him. And it was the never-ending love he felt for the kid laying on his stomach on the table, so focused on his drawings that he hadn't moved an inch.
That's why Peter felt brave that day. Brave enough to slowly move his hand towards Felicia's, fingers stretching and curling before finally grazing her skin. His train of thoughts of What am I doing? I can't, I shouldn't, I'm chasing a daydream was interrupted by fingers being laced with his, squeezing his hand tight. And while there were so many things he wanted to say, he decided that the warmth he felt and that reassuring pressure were enough.
-------------------------------------------------------
"You know, I won't judge you if you go for a quick patrol," Felicia said as she peered through the oven door at the cookies she hadn't put inside long ago. She huffed as her silver hair got in her face.
Peter gathered it in a knot and secured it with a hair claw. He never found out why it's that colour already, since she couldn't exactly have vitiligo just where her hair is, and she was a few years too young for it to be grey. "Yeah, I'm not sure about that," he said, his eyes not leaving hers. "Besides, I'm not done with your assignment."
Sure, chopping peppers wasn't quite as urgent as patrolling, but Miles had assured him he had in under control. Peter still had his phone on in case captain Stacy called for back up, though with the Avengers back in town, Spider-Man wasn't as necessary as before.
"Hey, I've been meaning to tell you you..." Felicia started as she flipped the fish in the pan. "I know you love your house and it's hard to rent another place here so... if you're ever too tired to swing to Queens or anything, you're welcome here."
Peter turned to look at her, unaware of the adoration painted all over his face. "I'll probably take you up on that."
Felicia nodded. "Good. Do that."
"I will."
"Alright."
"O- Oh." Peter scrunched his nose and opened the oven door, exposing slightly burnt cookies. "These bake way too fast," he said as he set them on the kitchen island.
Felicia groaned and put in the next tray. "I probably set the temperature too high."
"Or you're using the wrong pan," Peter offered. "Because some of them are made of good conductors, so the food would bake very fast at the bottom and remain uncooked everywhere else."
She raised an eyebrow. "Are you telling me my cookies are both burnt and raw?"
Peter stared at the charred bottom and the gooey top, but he decided it was only for to try one. He popped one in his mouth, only to instantly regret it as the hot, melted chocolate burnt his tongue like the tray burnt the cookie. Still, he somehow swallowed it between coughs.
Felicia was full-on laughing. "It wasn't a dare but I'm glad you saw it as one."
He stuck his tongue out, desperately fanning both hands. "It hurtth," he lisped. "Wortht cookie ever."
Felicia pretended not to hear that and handed him a glass of cold water. "Just put it in there, it's supposed to be soothing."
Peter brought the glass to his mouth and did as instructed, making brief eye-contact with her before switching to the floor.
"This is a weird sight," Felicia said, and snapped a picture right after. "I primarily took it to show Walter that his dad is an idiot, but I realize the endless blackmail possibilities here."
Peter set the glass on the counter. "You know you don't have to blackmail me."
Felicia shrugged. "I might have to. Someday. We're not always on the same page."
"Yeah, but I trust that you'd never push me to do anything I don't want to do," Peter said, and he felt that familiar flutter in his chest. "If you wanted something from me, you'd simply ask."
Felicia checked the fish again. "Well, I never wanted anything from you."
Peter put a hand over his heart. "That totally didn't hurt. At all."
Felicia looked over at him, her lips twisted in something that wasn't a smile, but not a frown either. "I wanted you. Nothing more. Just..." She shook her head and turned off the heat before removing the pan from the hotplate. "Just you. Us."
Peter gulped. "Felicia, I..."
She put up a hand. "It's in the past."
Peter opened and closed his mouth several times before asking, "Is it?"
Felicia put on a tight-lipped smile. "It should be."