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There was nothing simple about dating Spider-Man. With the moments he’d run off in the middle of a movie or suddenly cancel on date night, it didn’t exactly make you feel secure in the relationship.
You didn’t blame Peter. After-all, the whole ‘crime fighting’ and ‘saving the world’ gig was far bigger than you, but sometimes it got to you having to always chase after time with the man you love.
This pile of complexity was only added to by that cursed spell that some wizard had cast four years ago. Although this was before you met Peter, you knew how important this was to him. It had changed his life entirely.
You didn’t realise how much more it would change until one night.
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“Come with me.”
“To the party?” You looked at him incredulously. “Peter, this is borderline staking. I understand you follow people for your spidey purposes, but this…”
On another occasion your moral concerns would’ve hit him and knocked him out of this determined haze, however something was different. He seemed more intense than usual, eyes still trained on Ned’s fading figure, set on moving forward.
“I need to see them. Just once.”
His voice ached with a desperation and grief that took you aback.
This meant something to him, more than you could understand. You let him continue.
“Besides it’s a party, anyone’s invited.” He tried to rationalise his actions as his hand interlocked with yours, pulling you forward with him as an accomplice.
As you wondered through the streets, you couldn’t help the sinking feeling settling in your stomach.
Each corner Ned turned you weren’t far behind and it felt so obsessive?
Peter wasn’t like this.
He’d watch a few instagram stories and visit a few coffee shops, but he wouldn’t do anything like this so spontaneously.
“I’m not so sure about this.” You murmured, as you approached the building.
Even in his focused state Peter noted your anxiety.
“Hey, we don’t need to stay long.” He reassured, turning towards you and finally meeting your eyes.
He seemed different in this light.
“I just want to see what their lives are like now. Then we can move on.” The gentle certainty of his tone provided some relief.
Moving on was exactly what you needed. Maybe this would provide some much needed closure.
You let out a resigned sigh, keeping a firm grasp on his hand as you walked up the stairs.
You could hear the party bellowing nearby. It was busy enough that the two of you entered unnoticed by the array of drunk college students.
That was until Peter had the bright idea to walk directly into Ned’s room, carried by emotion rather than rational thought.
As you stepped inside, he dropped your hand in favour of exploring the room.
He didn’t make it far before Ned walked out of his bathroom, startled by the strangers in his room but pleased to share his spiderman studies.
“Oh I see you’ve stumbled across my board. I’m not one of those weirdos, I swear.”
You hadn’t met Ned before, but you’d heard plenty about him. Enough to know that the Lego figure Peter picked up meant more than just a childish toy to him.
“I’m only looking for spiderman because I want to thank him in person. Not to tell anyone or make it a newsworthy thing. He saved me a few times in high school. I remember it well.”
Not well enough.
“Oh.” Peter’s expression softened.
“I even made an app!”
“Spidey tracker.” A small smile adorned his face.
“Oh you know it?” Ned beamed at Peter’s shared awareness.
The two spoke like the closest of friends, even now, and you felt almost as if you were watching the interaction from afar.
“Do you want to see my main spiderman suspects?” Ned seemed so eager to share his theories.
You had to admit, you were a bit intrigued to see the possibilities, all whilst knowing you were already stood next to spiderman himself.
When Ned unveiled two random guys, you noticed a flicker of acknowledgement in Peter’s expression. It was somewhere close to a bittersweet laugh.
He seemed so overcome with a new joy and sorrow all at once.
As you turned to check up on him, a voice interrupted you.
“Hey I need help in the kitchen, some guy is throwing up. I still don’t know why we invited so many people…” She murmured, unimpressed with the turnout of the night.
“We can clean it up, it’s bound to happen at a party.” Ned replied shrugging, yet all you could notice was the way Peter’s focus was trained on the woman. His lips parted as if words had escaped him, and all he was staring at was a ghost he longed to reach.
That’s when you knew it was MJ.
“Who are you two? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.” You could see her analysing you both intensely.
“You don’t know them?”
“Um, we’re just…” You started to try and find an explanation, but Peter cut you off abruptly.
“May- Maynard and June.”
You couldn’t help but grimace at the atrociously obvious fake names, wondering why Peter would cut you off to offer such a terrible cover. He was supposed to be good at this secret identity thing!
“Yep. Maynard and June. We’re new here.” You forced yourself to back him.
Peter was stood like a fool, still clutching May’s flowers, half-frozen in place aside from his few unhelpful additions to the conversation.
“Are those flowers for someone?” She questioned. “Or do you just walk about with them?”
“Oh- oh! Here, they’re a housewarming gift.” He fumbled with the bouquet as though he’d suddenly remembered it existed.
You tensed as he handed her the flowers.
Her eyebrows raised in acknowledgement of the alternative gift. “Oh thanks, most people just brought alcohol.”
After offering the polite reply, she looked back at Ned, still needing his help. “Anyway… I better go stop any more mess from being made. Ned?”
“Can we go now? I think they’re busy.” You murmured to Peter, barely loud enough to hear amongst the noise of the party.
“We’ve just got here.” He lightly protested, but was evidently still dazed from the conversation.
You sighed as he followed them out into the kitchen a few moments after they’d left.
“Peter.” You grabbed his hand once more, trying to stop him, but forgot his inhuman strength as you did nothing more than stumble forward with him.
He instinctively caught you mid-fall and grasped your waist to stabilise you.
“We’ll leave soon. I promise.”
You couldn’t help but believe him as his eyes met yours with a quiet pleading.
“I don’t think this is helping you.” You admitted.
As he went to protest, he caught sight of a man with MJ, cozying up to her in a familiar fashion. When he kissed her, you felt Peter’s grip on you tighten, causing you to look in the direction of his focus.
He was so preoccupied he didn’t spot your distaste.
You shook your head, a sigh turning into an emotion-filled huff.
“I’m going. You can leave with me if you want, but I’m going back to my apartment. Alone.” You pursed your lips together, restraining yourself from saying anything more.
“Wait-”
His pleading voice faded out into the atmosphere as you passed through the drunken crowd. You caught sight of the happy couples, making out in corners and dancing to the music, as you sped away from your boyfriend.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺
The next few days weren’t great for spiderman as you watched his life through the news.
The Daily Bugle reported a police officer in critical condition at his hand, but you knew they weren’t the most reliable news source when it came to “SPIDER-MENACE”. What you did notice in the footage was the smaller details that the untrained public wouldn’t have considered: the absence of his usual webshooters; the slowness of his spidey senses; and the force with which he fought.
It wasn’t right.
That’s when you finally gave in and found your way over to his apartment, letting yourself in with the key he’d given you months ago.
It was in a worse state than last you’d seen it, as though a few too many of his web-bombs had exploded. Sketches were littered across his desk as his machine worked away, evidently having tried (and failed) to create many prototypes of this device you’d never seen before.
That meant it was new.
Something had changed in the last 48 hours.
In all the chaos, the weird technology wasn’t the strangest thing you spotted - lying on his laundry basket were another woman’s clothes, a crop top and some “juicy” sweat pants.
As you went to observe them, you heard the twist of the door handle revealing a battered, beaten-up Peter, looking the worst you’d seen him in a long time.
His eyes widened as he spotted you, immediately springing into a frantic explanation despite his exhaustion.
“I swear there’s a reason for those clothes- You see I sort of fell out of a web cocoon half-naked and they were all I could find in the laundry room-”
Your concern for him had already overruled your frustration.
Your words left you with an urgent worry, simultaneously loud yet weak.
“It’s fine, Peter.” You blinked, eyes scanning up and down his form for the injuries.
“Just get out of that suit and sit down-”
He froze, before cracking a small forced smile.
“Do I really look that bad?” That playful laugh left his split lip in a way that made your reluctant heart melt.
“Yeah idiot.”
You matched his mood, rolling your eyes as you reached for the conveniently placed first-aid kit in his room.
If you didn’t laugh along, you worried the other emotions would rise to the surface. Your many fears - for his safety, of his love, of his past - they were consuming you recently.
Once he was undressed and planted comfortably on his sofa, you approached with the medical equipment. It wasn’t an infrequent practice, but the circumstances were different.
You’d missed a lot in a short time it seemed.
“So, you gonna tell me what happened to get you all scraped up?” You asked, eyes meeting his for a moment before you started deciphering which injury needed attention first.
“You know the job. This isn’t the first time.” He looked bashfully away and you noticed his unusual embarrassment.
“Peter.”
He should’ve known that explanation wouldn’t suffice.
“It’s difficult to explain- I don’t really understand it myself still.” He winced as you applied pressure to his most recent wound, voice becoming more strained in his attempt to keep composure.
“Try.” Was all you encouraged gently, needing an answer but not willing to argue with an injured man.
He nodded in resignation, knowing he couldn’t avoid the situation forever. “My DNA is changing in a way. The arachnid hormones are taking over sometimes and I can’t control it.”
You paused your movements.
That wasn’t what you’d expected.
“When did it start?”
“The morning before yesterday. That’s when I woke up outside in the web cocoon and why I have those clothes.” He pointed at the basket you’d been looking at earlier, forgetting his injuries for a moment before but being reminded by the sudden pang.
“You didn’t call me.”
“I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“Bullshit. You tell me everything.”
You frowned, trying to refocus on patching him up. “From fighting aliens to free churros from a stranger on the street. You tell me. You always do.”
You sighed, keeping your composure as well as possible as you continued on. “Why has it all changed now that she’s showed up again?”
The sentence was more of a heavy breath than a question.
“You need stitches.” You murmured, interrupting your own grievance to search for the medical needle.
Peter tilted his head at your evident discomfort. His senses were strong enough to hear what you said even if you didn’t intend it.
“Hey, stop that for a second.” He reached out to slowly place his hand on your shoulder.
“Stop helping you?” You raised an eyebrow before ignoring his instruction.
“I mean it. We need to talk without all the distractions.” Peter’s tone was nothing but kind, yet in the haze of your anxiety it all sounded wrong.
‘We need to talk’ clearly meant he wanted to break up. You wouldn’t let that happen until he was at least stitched up.
Once he realised you weren’t stopping, he decided to speak on anyway.
“I didn’t tell you because I was ashamed. I’ve had full control of my powers for years and then suddenly web fluid is spewing from my wrist? I found it gross enough without showing my partner.” He admitted, inhaling sharply as your needle pierced his skin.
Although you believed him on that, it didn’t answer everything.
One question kept running through your mind.
“Do you still like her?”
You blurted out abruptly before you could stop yourself, squeezing your eyes shut when you realised you’d spoke it aloud.
“Who, MJ?” Peter frowned as if the idea of you thinking that had never crossed his mind.
The question worsened your frustration because who else would you be referring to? It wasn’t like he had many notable exes you’d be talking about.
You tried to stay focused on his wound to ground your irritation as you replied.
“Yeah, everything’s gone all haywire since you saw her.” You noted, laced in an undertone of insecurity. “Seems a strange coincidence.”
All of these changes to Peter were seemingly happening because of her.
He paused, unsure of how to address the matter. The pain didn’t help him think clearly.
“You can’t function without her. Your body’s literally telling you it, like it’s in your blood or something.” Your words tumbled out as you thought over and over about the recent events.
“I don’t think that’s why this is happening-” He tried, attempting to placate the worry, but failing to do so fast enough.
“Well I do. You may not have seen it but I have. That look in your eye you’ve had recently… it’s different. It flickers for a moment and then suddenly you’re chasing your old life.” You pointed out.
“A life that I wasn’t a part of.” You mumbled uncomfortably as you finished the final stitch.
The words revealed your true dispute with this and Peter finally understood the complexities of what you’d been feeling.
He spoke your name to snap you out of your mental spiral.
“What I feel for MJ, it’s not love.” Peter’s hand found yours, guiding you to place down the needle and focus on him. “Or not the romantic kind at least. It’s not like what I feel for you.”
You looked away, struggling to meet his eyes. He reached to tilt your face towards his gaze.
“I want the friendship back where I spent all of my high school years by their side. But then we go to college, and I meet this incredible person at Aunt May’s charity and we spend all our time together.” He assured.
“You’re a part of my story. No matter how I write it.” Peter emphasised every word.
“I’m not trying to get MJ back. That’s not what made me so… distressed. The emotion is in what I lost: we were meant to live together; go to M.I.T. like Mr Stark wanted all those years ago; build those damn star wars legos together. All those things we’d planned - that’s what I mourn. And that’s why everything’s gone haywire. Not because I’m planning on cheating on you with someone I haven’t seen in four years.”
He finally let the feelings he’d been trying to hard to ignore out.
You fell silent, mentally replaying every word he’d just said.
“When you left the party the other night you thought I felt something when I saw that MJ has a boyfriend, but the feeling wasn’t jealousy. It was a reminder that everything changes and that no matter how I try, Aunt May was right. I can’t see the future.” He struggled through her name. “And I worried if something like before could ever happen to you.”
The emotion in his voice tore through any doubt you had.
“It’s not safe to love me.” He reiterated his point.
“I’ve always known that. It’s not some new threat.”
“It’s worse now. There are darker forces at play, I’ve seen possession and mind control just within the last week.” He hadn’t told you that part before either.
“Hey nobody would want to be up there in my head.”
You offered him a moment to laugh beyond the obvious concern, satisfied when you heard the light chuckle before his seriousness returned.
“I just don’t want to see you hurt.”
He spoke in a pained desperation that you’d seen far too much of in the past few days.
“Ironic coming from the man who won’t let me finish patching him up…” You tilted your head at him, eyes meeting his intently. “I know you’re being serious, but I know what I’m getting into.”
You leaned in to kiss him, careful of his split lip. He didn’t seem so concerned, eagerly accepting the offer - injuries be damned. As you pulled back to breathe, you spoke once more.
“Besides, even the worst that could happen wouldn’t be enough for me to stop loving you.”