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It had been a long day. All Michelle wanted was to turn in for the night. She planned to rinse off under shitty water pressure before passing out in her bed.
She should have known that she would walk into a dark apartment only to hear the low murmur of the television. That, in itself, wasn't odd. However, the replacement of fresh flowers in the vase positioned on their kitchen counter was a sign that Peter stopped by.
A movie was on, all the lights were off, and Michelle wasn't angry. She wasn't even annoyed. With a single glance, all the stress from her day of interviews melted away when she closed the door behind her and tilted her head inside to see the two main doofuses of her life.
Peter lifted his hand from around Ned's shoulders—a small flick of his wrist, really—in greeting. Peter was staring at their television, not taking his eyes away from it for even a moment.
A scene of stars and space and war filled the large screen that Ned and Michelle splurged on because 'it'll obviously be worth it, MJ.' The light from it illuminated the two young men on the couch, eyes bright and faces full of anticipation for what would happen next.
Peter was trying hard to respect her boundaries, and his silent acknowledgement instead of a bright greeting was part of that. Michelle was not who he remembered, and she knew that even if she did have her memories, Peter wasn't anything like he used to be either.
Change was natural, she told herself. It was for the better that Peter didn't know who she was, and it was good that he stopped clinging to the past.
Ned hadn't noticed she was home at all, which was normal for him. He tended to be tied to his screen, not noticing she was home until she made her presence more known. He was tapping his hand against his thigh, wigging out over the fight scene.
Michelle still didn't understand why lasers and ship battles were 'epic' or enthralling to watch, but it was nice to see both Ned and Peter so relaxed. They clicked so easily and so fast. It was irksome, just a little, but Michelle pushed that aside. There was no room for jealousy in her mind when she was supposed to be focusing her attention on other things.
It was obvious that Ned and Peter had been friends for years. The time apart didn't mean much when they fell into place with just a few cracks and screws getting in the way.
The way Peter moved around her, as if she fitted in with them, was hard to grasp. At least this time she had the excuse to disappear and wash up for bed, so Peter didn't try to get her to join them. She knew that if he asked, she would find herself sitting on the couch, catching the end of the movie.
She couldn't have envisioned her life like this a month ago.
Hell, she still wasn't sure how on Earth she knew Spider-Man when they were in high school. Peter had explained the spell multiple times, with Ned's running commentary on the bits and pieces he was able to recall, but Michelle was still left scrambling.
Or not scrambling, as she told them. She didn't think about the past. Michelle had no memories of it; it didn't concern her.
Michelle slipped off her shoes, being extra quiet not to disturb Ned or Peter's movie. Peter didn't take nights off often. Ned must have suggested this—he had been messaging Peter consistently in an attempt to socialize the wayward spider, inviting him out nearly every day in hopes that Peter would accept at some point.
This was the first time she saw them so relaxed. Was it because she wasn't there to get in between them? Every time they hung out as a group, there was an underlying current of tension. It had become subdued, but even Ned would look at Michelle with a pained look, as if he was mourning the life she could have had if only she had her memories.
But Michelle didn't have her memories, and frankly, she thought that was a good thing.
It was hard to face Peter without her memories, to see that hopeful flicker in his eyes, but it was even worse when Peter and Ned would be talking, only for Ned to say he didn't remember something that meant a lot to Peter. It could be a minuscule detail, or as severe as forgetting a person entirely.
Peter's face would scrunch up just a tinge. He would try to control his emotions, but he was still adjusting to his molting—as Ned called it—which made it obvious how he felt when he was forced to deal with the fact that no one truly remembered who he was.
Ned's memories didn't fully return. Maybe if they did, Michelle would be more apt to undergo whatever process that happened to spark the remembering process, but as it was, Ned was fumbling to recall his past with Peter.
Yet, things like this happened, too. Her, walking in on her best friend and her estranged ex-boyfriend watching a nerdy movie.
Michelle slipped her coat off, preparing to hang it on a hook, only to pause when she saw the bright red and blue contrast of colors. The Spider-Man suit was hanging where her coat normally went. This… This was fine.
Michelle stacked her coat on top of Ned's, not freaking out at all.
She went to the kitchen, and with a glass of water in hand, she watched the boys over the counter. They looked like kids at a sleepover, a blanket tucked around them, stretched far because Peter wanted some of it on his legs while Ned wanted it to wrap around his arms like wings.
There were no memories of Peter as a teenager in her head, but she was sure that this scene was reminiscent of what had happened before.
She didn't finish her water, but she'd come back for it later. It was time to think about the universe, also known as showering. Michelle walked away, fading into the apartment, leaving her friends behind.
It was hard not to think about how Peter's senses could hear everything she did. It was difficult to remember that the same guy Ned was obsessed with, and the same person who fought for his life every day, was Peter Parker, a random guy who she brought home with her to cheer him up.
He looked like a sad puppy. Or one of those greasy, soggy fries at the bottom of the paper bag that no one wanted to eat. Either way, Michelle figured it was fine.
By the time Michelle exited the shower and prepared to say goodnight to Ned, Peter was gone, and Ned was folding the blanket they shared.
Michelle froze for a moment, looking at Ned like a spooked deer. The way he held himself, his posture so loose and his expression so content, she realized that having Peter reconnect with them wasn't only good for him.
Ned was happier, somehow. A spark returned to his life now that Peter was with him again. His energy drink count had gone down considerably, and she knew it was because Peter centered Ned in ways that she couldn't.
She wondered if she would be part of that. If this longing feeling in her chest, the nagging idea that she had to wait for something, would disappear now that the three of them were reunited.
Ned turned around after setting the blanket on the couch, let out a little sigh, and then met her eyes. "Oh, hey."
"Hey," she said back in the same voice.
Ned chuckled, shaking his head, like he was in disbelief. "I can't believe this is my life now."
Me neither, she didn't say. Michelle scoffed instead. "Get used to it. You can't go back now."
Ned just looked at her. His eyes were shiny, but not in a sad way. He was happy, and maybe overly hopeful for the future. Michelle would deny that her eyes looked the same, but Ned would testify that they did.
They said their good nights, their postures awkward and stiff, but not with tension. There was simply a weight on them: they were Peter's only ties to the world, and that was hard to conceptualize.
They both shuffled towards their beds, just a bit out of rhythm.
It took Michelle another hour before she felt tired enough to click off her phone to end her doomscrolling. Spider-Man had been back in action for 2 weeks now, but people were still worried about his health and his position against the DODC.
His near-death experience was public and the world was mourning because Spider-Man had affected so many lives. Michelle's feed was flooded with love and support for Spidey, and she blocked those who cheered for his imminent death.
The world had celebrated the first time he patrolled after the incident, and what did Ned and Michelle do? They celebrated by ordering Little Caesars—Peter's favorite, apparently—and watching a spider documentary that had Peter gagging and Ned asking him a bazillion questions every minute.
On the other hand, returning to patrol so quickly proved once and for all that he had a healing factor. There was already an assumption that he'd have to have one, but now even those who didn't live in New York or care for Spider-Man at all, knew about it.
A yawn escaped her throat, and a tear running out of her eye confirmed her exhaustion.
But before she could actually sleep, there's a small thud. And then another, but larger this time. It's followed by a "fuuuuck."
Ned was already walking down the hall with his phone's flashlight on by the time she opened the door to her room. They nodded at each other, sleep tugging away from their eyes, as they went to check on where Peter landed.
The Spidey Tracker app was pulled up on Ned's phone, the pings going off around their house. Ned pressed a button to say that Peter continued to head North; he was getting good at covering their tracks.
By the window, the one that Michelle locked two nights ago after this happened for the first time, was Spider-Man.
He was crouched down on the ground, his mask up above his nose, breathing heavily in the air like he couldn't catch his breath. Michelle didn't turn on a light in the house—it'd only make it worse.
Peter wasn't here to be healed. He promised, despite them not asking for him to do such a thing, that he wouldn't show up to their apartment injured. He didn't want to ruin their home or make them see things that they'll have nightmares about.
Michelle was secretly thankful for it. She didn't know how to treat injuries, and Ned told her that he remembered having to sew up Peter's side once before school, and he never wanted to see a human body in that way again.
Instead, Peter showed up when he was overloaded. His newly acquired senses sent him into overdrive, and it was maybe the worst thing to watch because Michelle always felt useless as Peter let out grunts of agony with no relief in sight.
When he could hear everything in a 5-mile radius, couldn't focus, and felt like he was losing his mind, the Spider-Man they knew disappeared to be replaced with a frightened boy who looked like a breeze could blow him over.
Michelle and Ned's gazes met, peeking up from Peter, and Ned shut off his flashlight instantly. He then made another report of Spider-Man being seen further away before clicking off his phone completely.
In tandem, they sat down, one of them on each side of Peter.
The floor was uncomfortable. Michelle didn't know why Peter couldn't choose to flop onto the couch to deal with sensory overload, but she didn't have enhanced senses, so she knew her opinion mattered very little.
But Michelle still tugged her legs to her chest, and settled in for the night. Ned sat with his legs stretched out on the floor, his eyes focused on Peter's face, checking his eyes to see if they were fully black or not.
They sat in silence for a long moment before Peter eventually took off the rest of his mask. His breaths came out in sharp gasps.
Through it all, he would look over at them, shock and trust in his eyes, before he continued to breathe in and out slowly, shutting off his senses one by one, until he rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes.
He was passing out, and this time, Ned didn't scream in alarm, and Michelle didn't move to start chest compression. Those actions would only cause Peter more pain. They were learning fast—it was the best they could do with their limited experience.
It was only once a few minutes had passed when Michelle adjusted the way Peter's neck fell against the wall. She took off her cardigan, putting it behind his neck as a little pillow support. Ned followed suit, taking off his jacket to cover Peter with it like a blanket.
Michelle worried that this would be a regular occurrence. How much more pain would be inflicted upon Peter? You'd think the universe would decide enough was enough by now.
It was awful that her final thought that night was that it was a good thing her boyfriend didn't live with them; he'd only be dramatic and annoyed about being woken up.
Peter was still in their apartment when she woke up. Michelle was surprised—not because she wanted him to be gone—because he always left, probably due to some guilt complex of his.
He was cooking breakfast, or at least, he was trying to. It was pitiful to watch him struggle to crack the eggs without breaking them. Michelle watched Peter completely demolish 3 eggs before she decided that was too much waste, and offered to help him.
"How many are you planning to throw out before asking for help?" she quipped, already walking around the counter to take control.
Peter licked his lips, seemingly thoughtful, before he admitted, "I… I didn't think to ask."
It was concerning; it was terribly sad. He was despondent, likely because he hadn't had anyone to rely on in years. Michelle wasn't good with that stuff, so she hummed, and took the bowl from him.
She cracked the eggs, not getting the shells in the bowl, or crushing them in her hand until they were egg smoothie. Peter whisked the eggs after because he had the muscles to make it more of a warm-up instead of a workout.
It was a good process, and when Ned came stumbling in a couple of minutes later, he chopped the green onions and bell peppers. They could have been mistaken for a well-oiled machine in the kitchen, if only they didn't burn the first omelette they made.
Taking longer than necessary, they finally had three completed plates. Peter piled on the burnt omelette to his plate too. Ned didn't question it, while Michelle gave it a hard stare.
Michelle liked how warm it was when they ate. Ned teased Peter about not liking orange juice, while Peter shot back with the defense that Michelle didn't like it either. They both preferred apple juice. Ned called them weak, saying they fell for the anti-orange juice propaganda.
All in all, it was a productive morning.
It was only natural that Ned's phone would go off, work calling him to fix an issue. He mouthed his apology before fumbling toward his desk across the apartment.
Ned worked from home in convenience, and Michelle thought about joining the same company, but she felt more secure with the idea of finding somewhere else. What if the company had mass layoffs and they were both affected by it?
Peter fidgeted across from her, startled by being alone together for the first time in a while. He was horrid at hiding his awkwardness; she wouldn't change a thing about him.
Michelle remembered drawing people in crisis when she was a teenager. If she were still 15, she'd bet that Peter's expression would be something she'd try to capture through pen and paper.
"Do you have anything fun planned for the day?" she asked, hoping for casual. "Or is it just your usual?" Throwing himself off of buildings and tumbling across the street.
"Oh, uh, actually—" Peter scratched his cheek, "—I planned to visit Dr. Banner today."
"As… Spider-Man?"
"Yeah! I, uh, I couldn't visit him before while he was with psych, but he's been released to general monitoring, so he can have visitors now." He let out a small noise. "I think I'll have to get through SHIELD, but it'll be fine."
"Wish him well for us," Michelle said, feeling a pang in her chest.
She couldn't imagine what it would be like to have all of her work stripped away in just one day because of one person's misguided actions. Peter was defensive of Jean Grey, but that didn't mean he didn't look like someone died every time he watched the news to catch an update about Banner's status.
The news media wasn't always in support of heroes. Even during Peter's near-death experience, there were outspoken sleazebags.
Some outlets—primarily the Daily Bugle—said that Spider-Man was a criminal menace who deserved to go out with a shot through the heart. Michelle wondered how Peter felt about Betty Brant being the editor for the article that tore him apart. He must have known Betty in school.
She didn't ask. She partially hoped Peter didn't read those articles or watch those clips on social media. He was too busy saving lives, she told herself. He didn't have time to check in on his haters.
"I will," Peter promised, so genuine and sincere that Michelle knew that he would get abused by his boss if he ever worked in corporate.
He left after washing the dishes with a quick, Bye MJ! Bye Ned! It might have well been a beacon declaring that they were connected through the red string of fate. Michelle was getting used to hearing her nickname through his lips. It was horrible how his tone made her feel at home.
Michelle had just finished an interview—this was a new company, one that she wasn't sure about the ethics of—when she opened her group chat with her, Ned, and Peter in it.
There was a single notification, which was odd. Ned tended to send multiple short messages in a row, Michelle responded in single paragraphs, and Peter always chose to just show up in-person to answer anything that was asked of him.
However, this time, it was Peter who reached out first. The Spidey Tracker hadn't caught much of Peter, so he must not be patrolling. Why would he suggest to meet up for lunch, then? Did he just want to… socialize? Him? Peter Parker?
It was weird, but as soon as Michelle saw Ned's typing bubble appear, she knew that they'd be agreeing.
It led them to sit outside on the benches of a deli shop. It was a corner shop, with large posters and two cats. One of the cats sat down next to Peter on the bench while the other one, which seemed younger, was content to stay inside by the cash register.
New Yorkers passed by quickly on the sidewalk, with cars rushing past slower. No one looked at their group intently, just the way that Michelle preferred it.
"So…" Ned began, looking at Peter in suspicion. "What's up? You seem jittery, almost like—" A light bulb went off. "Oh, wait, Peter, do you have good news!?"
Peter waved his free hand in the air, his other setting down the sandwich. He chewed quickly, looking panicked for suggesting that Spider-Man doesn't always have bad days.
"No, you gotta," argued Ned.
Michelle inclined her head in agreement, smirking in amusement. "You look like the energizer bunny. Just spill, already."
Peter released an agonized noise of annoyance, before just going for it: "Dr. Banner remembered me."
Ah.
No wonder he was so excited. That's what the tapping of his foot and the anxious look in his gaze meant. He was remembered by someone else. Someone who could appreciate all that he had been through.
"Or, well," Peter corrected a moment later, "the Hulk remembered me. Dr. Banner doesn't actually have the greatest recollection of me, but the Hulk apparently… Apparently, he does. Dr. Banner can't reach all of what Hulk thinks, but the sentiment—the emotions—carried over."
Ned congratulated Peter, as Michelle sat there, intensely focused on her bready sandwich. She preferred it with less bread. Maybe more sauce too. It didn't have much flavor either. That might've just been her appetite dissipating, though.
"This is so rad, dude. It means that more people you were close to might remember too—" Ned not so casually glanced at Michelle, "—and you can be with your people again."
Peter shook his head, looking less hopeful than Ned as he buried his head into the MIT hoody he wore. Michelle hadn't determined if that was Ned's or Tony Stark's hoody yet, and was a little intimidated to ask about it.
"I don't know. Dr. Banner, after I told him about you remembering too, said that… Well, y'know, you performed magic. He's got powers. You both… You're both not normal."
Michelle, normal person extraordinaire, felt the wind catch her hair. This was what it felt like to be a husk, dead on the inside, and dried on the outside.
"That's only a theory," Ned said, shutting down the way Peter's shoulders hunched over.
Michelle felt the pause of silence, and spoke up. "You're a science dork, aren't you, Peter? Develop at least more than one hypothesis. Giving scientists a bad name."
It caused the effect she wanted. Peter blushed, looking happier than the moment before. He took another bite of his sandwich, perked up, and no longer looked like a kid bullied at the playground that the teachers ignored.
Michelle kicked Ned's shin under the table to change the subject. He jerked in place, then switched the topic to ask if Peter wanted to come over that weekend to watch the next movie in their series rewatch of Star Wars.
They were preparing Peter to watch the two new movies that came out since he had been erased from the world. He hadn't seen them yet—too busy being Spider-Man—and Ned was excited to share in the experience of watching them with Peter for his first time.
As Ned talked more, and Peter began to smile, Michelle leaned against the back, feeling like the hurdle had been dodged, and there were only good things from then on.
She might not remember Peter Parker, but she knew who he was to his core, and she'd fight for him in any way she had to.
Michelle wasn't enhanced. She was closed off, even to her closest friends. She hated the world's spineless cowardice around her. But Peter had brightened it in a way she didn't want to see turn dull again.