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Magnolia and Peter stood side by side, cigarettes between fingers and background blues filling the comfortable silence. Maggie and Pete, Alba and Spider-Man, tart and gumshoe.
“Y'know,” Peter started after a long drag of his cigarette, “once you told me you kissed a thousand people—”
“It was a lie,” Maggie promptly interrupted. Despite her persona, the pride within she carried her reputation, the burden was too heavy on her shoulders right now. And she didn't have to keep it up in front of him anymore, so why bother?
“I know.” He sighed, staring into the night again, another blow. It wasn't an annoyed sigh, neither a sarcastic scoff; just one of those sighs you let when you have an unspoken truth knotting your throat, then it finally is addressed out loud. “I’ve known.”
“Thank goodness. Only ya seem to know in this city.” Well, him and some of the fellow poor sinners trusting their hearts to cupids, especially the women: prostitutes, hard-working mothers, lonely widows, carefree fillies, sometimes all of those at once — there isn't much space for women in rowdy times, is there? They were part of workforce as well, struggled to survive as well, yet were lowered to those four roles only. Maybe she'd study about it later, maybe ask the professors in the rebellion if she could borrow some textbooks, improve her vocabulary, be taken a bit more seriously, maybe...
The detective interrupted her thoughts with a bitter chuckle. “This country's made of soap opera and corruption, sugar, whaddya expect?” Another obvious statement people didn't seem to know, but, in reality, just wouldn't face anytime soon.
What, indeed, did Maggie expect?
She doesn't know. Not the moment to wonder this again, so she simply dismissed the question with their initial subject, “I promised you a kiss, too.”
“I'll need a warning ‘fore you make good on this promise.” They both let out a scoff.
“Too peaceful for that.” Another drag of the barely-there cigarette, then the cupid looked back at the spider, letting her eyes roam. Peter was a good friend and person in general, compassionate and focused, someone who only wanted the best for the others and only deserved the best himself. Kissing him to fulfill a mocking promise wouldn't be any better than whatever she used to do with men in exchange of something— even if this “something” was survival. She’d feel dirty, more than usual because she'd feel like she got him dirty, too. “When I do kiss you,” she decided after a long, silent while, “I want this to be real. What we have's too good to mess up.”
Peter, always understanding, let out a hum of agreement and leaned closer, just enough to tuck into her wings and protect himself from the cold. The pair grew silent and stayed like that until it was time to head off.