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Despite the darkness of the late sunset, bright red hair kept flying across Jean’s face as she ran. The way it reflected the fading sunlight caused it to block her vision. Her hair tie had snapped when she tried to pull it up in her haste, and she didn’t have time to fish out her sister’s scrunchie from her pocket.
Luck was on her side, though. She’d lost her pursuers a few alleys and a fence back. Not that losing them assured her safety. And her friends…
Jean had no idea where her friends were. Or if they were even safe.
All she had was a mental sentence from Emma begging the others to hurry to this location.
Rounding the last corner, Jean’s feet skid across the ground. Her feet slid in opposite directions, and she scrambled for purchase on a nearby dumpster to steady herself. A quick glance down revealed a bright flash of red that had Jean growing nauseous.
Blood.
Jean stared at the spot for a moment too long. She could feel her heart thundering in her chest, refusing to calm down as her gaze dragged further up the alleyway.
More blood. And a feather.
Jean’s legs moved before her mind caught up. Or, well, before her mind could register what she was seeing. Her powers had already kicked in as she crept forward, lifting the blood-stained feather into the air to hover in front of her face.
A white feather.
“...Warren,” Jean breathed in horror.
She didn’t have much time.
If this blood was Warren’s blood, then it was a clear path to her possibly injured, possibly dead, friend. That last thought made Jean want to vomit, but she didn’t dare do that, either. She had to be practical. Just like Ms. Braddock taught her.
First thing first.
Jean let her eyes slide shut, allowing her mind to reach out just a little. Searching around, Jean first made sure there weren’t any minds nearby who were looking her way. When she was sure of that, Jean then grabbed some nearby plastic from a dumpster. Then it was a matter of concentration, just like Professor Xavier taught her.
First step, let her mind reach out and touch her surroundings. Fill the space around her until she was touching the object she needed. She was already at a disadvantage because the thing she wanted was a liquid. Her telekinesis was shaky at best. But she tried to picture her powers enclosing around the blood spots on the ground like a bowl. The hardest part was then keeping that telekinetic shape and getting the blood in the plastic bag she found.
Adrenaline was a pretty good motivator, and she only spilled the blood a couple times.
Thankfully those spills were only on herself. A couple spills on her pants and a few spills on her sleeve were better than dropping the blood back on the ground.
Her task complete, Jean then chucked the bag back into the dumpster. With the trail gone, Jean took in a breath and ran down the alley. She had to hope Warren was still nearby. Hopefully alive. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if-
“Jean!”
Jean stumbled to a stop as the voice of a familiar telepath reached her, cutting through her thoughts like a blade. She couldn’t help the wince at the voice, but the relief that slid through her was a blessing.
“Emma! Where are you?”
“Come a little further. Then go left. There’s a window near the ground of a building just a few paces from a dumpster. It leads to a basement.”
Jean swallowed and nodded, even though she knew Emma couldn’t see her.
At one point, the voice of the blonde in her head had annoyed her to no end. Jean thought she hated Emma Frost, with her mean girl attitude and clearly better telepathic abilities. Her knack for hanging off Scott whenever Jean was nearby, especially after Emma learned Jean had a crush on him, had only further driven Jean up a wall.
But for once, the other girl being in her head was a blessing.
Sliding into the basement, Jean was immediately met by one of her best friends.
“Oh, Jean, sugar!” Rogue gasped, through her arms around Jean, careful not to let any skin touch. “Don’t you ever do something that reckless again, do you hear me!”
“It was better me than one of you,” Jean pulled back. “I know New York like the back of my hand. Where’s Warren?”
“Here…” croaked the voice of her other best friend.
Jean’s breathing hitched as she saw her friend crumpled on the ground with his head in Storm’s lap as Scott tried to put pressure on the bullet wound in Warren’s wing. Warren was awake, but he looked pale enough to be ready to join the angels.
Emma was crouched a bit away, covered in what had to be Warren’s blood. Her arms were wrapped tightly around one of the younger kids. The kid’s face was buried in Emma’s chest, and Emma was cradling the child with the protection of a person who wasn’t going to let anyone see the kid’s face. But Jean would know Kitty Pryde anywhere. The little girl had imprinted on all of them, as Scott liked to tease, and it would be just like Kitty to follow them to New York for an adventure without their knowledge.
There was a sudden, gentle probing at Jean’s mind that had her gaze whipping up to lock eyes with Emma. The blonde set her jaw, tugging Kitty closer as she pressed again with her telepathy. Normally, Jean would fight back, shove Emma out and make a nasty comment. But Emma had a vice on Kitty and was covered in Warren’s blood.
That was enough for Jean to let Emma in, if only to prove Jean was still Jean.
When Emma gave an approving nod, Jean darted for Warren.
“I ran off to sacrifice myself, and you’re the one who got hurt?” Jean teased, reaching out to grasp his hand.
Warren’s lips upturned in a grimace, one eye cracking open against the pain.
“Couldn’t let you have all the fun,” he had the audacity to joke.
Jean scoffed and lifted her head to look at Scott. There was a pinched expression on his face, the kind of look that had Jean immediately nervous. None of them were doctors. And while Professor Xavier insisted they have basic medical knowledge, that wouldn’t exactly help them with a really bad bullet wound.
“Has anyone tried to call the Professor? Or Hank?” Jean asked.
Rogue moved to sit beside Jean with a shake of her head. “We did call, but the Professor didn’t pick up. And Hank is halfway across the world at that conference. He said he’d try to get someone to help us, but who knows when that will be.”
“The school?”
“I tried to call Ms. Braddock,” Scott offered. “But it was class time. She didn’t answer. And I haven’t been able to get near another payphone.”
Jean bit her lip, gripping Warren’s hand a little tighter. He squeezed back, weakly, his palm sweaty and pale against her own.
Warren needed help. They needed someone they could trust. The Avengers, maybe, but they were too tied up in the government for Jean’s liking. And she’d made enemies with some of them. She didn’t know any doctors in New York who would give mutants the time of day. Not with all the bad press and the chase they just endured.
The basement wouldn’t be safe forever. And anyone Hank managed to send would probably be another Mutant that was equally likely to get chased down by Trask or Metzger or whoever was after them this time. So who could they trust in New York? It had to be someone friendly. Someone in the neighborhood, or-
Wait.
A friendly neighbor…
“Get his wing bandaged the best we can,” Jean instructed quickly, already looking around for anything they could use as bandages. “I know somewhere we can go to lay low. We should be able to use the alleys to lay low, and I’ll use my powers to make sure no one is actually watching.”
“That’s not going to stop cameras,” Storm pointed out.
“Yeah, well, where we’re going can help with that, too,” Jean quipped. “He’s, like, really good with tech. Scary good.”
“Oh… kay,” Scott began slowly as Rogue and Storm took over the bandaging. “And this… guy. You’ve never mentioned knowing anyone in New York. I thought your sister was your last connection.”
Jean bit her lip as she helped the others get Warren to his feet, wincing as her best friend whimpered in pain. She ushered everyone to the window, doing a quick mental check for anyone nearby. Mostly to avoid answering Scott’s question.
“We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms,” she shrugged as she ushered Storm out first. “I haven’t really stayed in touch with him, you know?”
Rogue had gotten through the window next, followed by Emma and the little girl, Kitty. That left Scott and Jean still in the basement with Warren, carefully helping him through the window, wings and all, while Storm and Rogue pulled him out from the outside, leaving Emma to keep watch.
“What sort of bad terms are we talking, Jeanie?” Rogue asked with a grunt as she took on a bit too much of Warren’s weight. “Like, ugh, a ba-bad- help me out here, Orie, honey. Are we talking a bad break-up?”
Jean thought about lying. It would be so easy to shrug it off and pretend that yeah, they were exes. But given her history, that felt almost cruel. Even if she could convince him to play along, and he probably would, something about it would feel wrong.
“I… did kind of have a part in a bad reunion between him and his ex,” Jean confessed with a wince as she remembered her mind-control over Peter’s beloved MJ. “But that’s, uh, not the worst of it.”
“What’s the worst bit?” Scott asked skeptically.
Jean pressed her lips together as she pulled off her jacket and draped it over Warren’s wings. She tried not to meet Scott’s gaze as she moved to help Storm take Warren’s weight, balancing him between them.
“My friend will have medical supplies. At least, he better. If he’s been taking care of himself.”
Jean adjusted her grip on Warren and began moving forward. She knew the others were staring at her incredulously. And she probably should have told them about what happened when she left New York. But, well, that felt wrong, too.
“Can we at least get a name?” Emma grumbled as she heft Kitty onto her hip.
Jean did pause, then, turning to look at her friends.
“His name is Peter Parker.”
“Who?”
—-----------------------------------
It was easy to get to the apartment. The old, run down building that Peter had made his home. They were lucky that it had gotten darker, further hiding their presence from all but the cameras. There were only a few people Jean had to make turn the other way. And because they traversed the sketchier alleyways, it was easier to avoid the cameras that could pick up their faces. They kept their heads down the best they could and tried not to draw too much attention to themselves.
When they got to the apartment, Jean let her powers stretch out and turn everyone’s attention away as she led all her friends inside. Thankfully, the elevator was working, and they all slid inside as Jean hit the button for the top floor.
Jean had already reached out with her mind, searching for that familiar feeling.
But Peter wasn’t home.
Great. Fine. Jean could work with that. Assuming Peter hadn’t upped his security or whatever. She was trying not to think of all the things Peter could have done since she invaded his apartment and possessed his girlfriend. She didn’t ever like to think about what she did to Peter back then. Even if it had been barely a year since all that.
Eventually the elevator let them out on the top floor, and Jean passed Warren to Scott and made for the only door in the attic. She recalled that the door liked to stick. As she used her telekinetic powers to unlock the door, she then had to jiggle the door open into the dark apartment.
But the second Jean stepped inside, every single light turned on, and the monitor across the room burst to life.
“Hello Jean!” came the voice of Peter’s personal AI. “It’s lovely to see you again. Can I help you with something tonight?”
Jean was momentarily stunned by the warm greeting of the AI. Her friends were already on the defensive behind her, and her inaction at the voice was definitely freaking them out. Jean swallowed, opening her mouth and trying to force the words out.
“I, uh, yes. Yes, um, E.V. My-my friend was shot. He’s hurt really bad, and we’re being chased by people who want to lock us up. I wasn’t-I wasn’t sure where else to go. Is… is Peter coming back?”
“Peter is currently out, but I have informed him that you are here and that you and your friends are in need of medical assistance. He will be here as soon as he is able to pull away. For now, why don’t you get your friend set up on the couch. I’ll do my best to help you with what knowledge I have based on their injury.”
Jean nodded, because she wasn’t sure what else she could do. Swallowing thickly, she turned to her friends and motioned them in the room, specifically motioning that Warren should be put on the couch. He looked… a lot worse.
“Jean. There is a digital camera on the desk to the right near the edge. If you pick that up and turn it on, I can see what the lens is focused on. If you hold the camera over the wound, I can better help analyze the damage.”
“Um,” Jean scrambled over the desk, flapping a hand at Emma and Storm. “Get… get the bandages off.”
“Jeanie,” Rogue quickly grabbed Jean’s shoulder. “The gunshot. It’s on his-”
Rogue cut herself off, flapping her hands around like bird wings. Jean’s eyes blew wide as she whipped back around to the computer screen.
“E.V.! My friend! He has wings! Like, big, white, bird wings! That’s where he was shot!”
The AI didn’t waste a second. “Okay, Jean. I’ll download any information I can find on healing bird injuries. Just make sure you keep calm, alright Jean? We’re going to help your friend.”
Jean nodded absently again, and she scrambled for the camera. She was quick to turn the thing on and get back over to Warren, hovering the camera over the wound, itself. She nearly tripped over Kitty on her way to Warren, carefully patting the girl’s head before shooing her to go sit over at the computer. Kitty was a pretty good kid, so she hoped Kitty would leave E.V. alone. Rogue was hovering behind Jean, and Scott was hovering behind the couch. Storm was gently carding a hand through Warren’s hair, trying to soothe him. Emma, of course, was scrutinizing the apartment.
Not the time.
Jean let the camera hover over the wound.
“Is the bullet still in the wound, Jean?” E.V. asked gently.
“I, uh-”
“No,” Storm spoke up for them. “Kitty and Emma pulled it out by the time we joined them.”
“Mostly Kitty,” Emma called out. “Credit where credit is due, or whatever.”
Jean shot a look to Kitty, finding the young girl was quite enthralled by the many pages and pages of data E.V. was flashing across the screen. Her little legs were kicking excitedly, and she even let out a quiet little “wow” sound as E.V. took a moment to show some of the avian biology stuff to her.
“Alright. Thank you for the information. While the camera lens is helpful, it will be more difficult to determine the best way to treat your friend without a proper scan. I’m afraid this scan will be quite invasive, so I understand if you wish to say no. But it will help me get a better idea of how best to treat him.”
Jean set down the camera, biting her lip as she looked at the others.
“That thing can’t be serious,” Emma hissed. “She wants to scan him? Invasively? We’re not actually going to let him do that, are we? What if this Peter guy sells that information or something? And what even is that thing?”
“I am E.V. an artificial intelligence created by Peter Parker to assist him with anything he might need.”
“That doesn’t really clarify much, sugar,” Rogue gave the computer monitor a pat as though to comfort it.
“She works with Spider-Man, too,” Jean threw out, though she immediately regretted it. “Peter, he, uh, he’s helped Spider-Man a few times. Especially with his own arachnid mutations. E.V. might actually be able to help.”
“That doesn’t-!”
“Do it,” Warren croaked.
“What?”
“Do it,” Warren croaked. “I’m dead… either way… Just-Just do it… Please.”
Jean swallowed. “E.V.”
“Okay, Jean. Follow my instructions very carefully. I’ll walk you through it.”
—---------------------
Jean was scrubbing her hands in Peter’s sink, trying to get the blood off. For what little Peter had stocked in his apartment, he had just about everything they needed to help Warren. E.V. had done her scan perfectly, using the data to predict every mutation caused by the X-Gene to near perfection, and using that information, as well as the information she downloaded on avians, to guide her through fixing Warren up. Peter even had weird web-fluid combinations that were meant for medicinal purposes.
Which meant she had exploded a web-bomb on his wing.
And caused a mess in Peter’s apartment.
Warren was rightfully passed out on the couch. Emma had led Kitty to Peter’s bedroom, after E.V. said Peter gave his permission, and Scott was passed out on the ground at her feet. Rogue had claimed the recliner Jean didn’t remember being there last time, leaving only herself and Storm awake.
“So,” Storm began slowly.
“So?”
“The others are fast asleep. Believe me, Jean, I have checked. Now, will you tell me the ‘bad terms’ you and this Peter parted on?”
Jean winced and turned away from Storm’s piercing gray gaze. She wasn’t particularly close with Storm like she was with Warren and Rogue, but she was close enough to Scott that Jean would say Storm was a friend. She was nice, at least. Strong-willed. A good person to have in your corner.
But, well, Storm also had this painful habit of calling people out when they were being stupid.
“I would rather not, actually,” Jean said, moving towards the small kitchenette to see if Peter had anything to snack on.
He had three large things of protein powder this time. But Jean was pleased to see he’d added a coffee maker, and that he actually had several different types of coffee. And that said coffee appeared to have been used regularly. Further digging in his pantry found that he had actual cutlery and cooking tools, as well as one particular cabinet with actual food in it. Mostly ingredients. And his fridge was fairly well stocked, too.
She settled on swiping a juice pop from the freezer, noting that he had some frozen ground beef she could maybe make something with. She’d ask E.V. about it if Peter didn’t get back soon enough. Jean was positive the others were as hungry she felt after their run around.
“And anyways, it’s not like it's an issue,” Jean turned back around to face Storm. “You saw how his AI helped us. How it welcomed me and helped us out without any questions other than what was necessary. So my fears were unfounded.”
Storm’s glare was a pretty set indicator that she wasn’t convinced.
“We are in a strange apartment. An old one that has seen more wear and tear than upkeep. You seem to know your way around, but you also keep looking at things like you expect them to jump up and bite you.”
“I don’t-!”
“This thing has scanned every part of our friend,” Storm plowed on, moving to stand and get in Jean’s personal space. “Warren is now laid up, helpless, entangled in some sort of sticky webbing we have no way to guarantee is actually helping him. And we are in the apartment of a man you parted on bad terms with, according to your own testimony. If this Peter Parker is a threat, then-”
“I wouldn’t say we parted on bad terms. I mean, Jean did save my life.”
Storm tensed, her eyes flashing a brighter gray as she whipped around. Overhead, thunder roared as her powers summoned in a torrential downpour. Jean could only gape as Peter quickly moved away from the window, sliding it shut.
“Okay, that was cool,” Peter pointed at the window. “Did you do that? I mean, your eyes went all gray and glowy and then that storm rolled in. Wait! Is that why you’re called Storm? That’s so freaking cool!”
“Peter,” Jean choked out. “You’re still dressed as Spider-Man.”
He gave a helpless little shrug as if to say “what are you gonna do?”, but Jean had been in Peter’s head to keep him alive. She’d seen the things that haunted him, and his identity was one of those things. She didn’t have to read his mind right now to know his rambling was because he was absolutely freaking out about standing in his own apartment with a bunch of strangers, wearing his Spider-Man suit without the mask. His face was on display for all to see, and it was sheer dumb luck that everyone else was asleep.
“Guess I’ll just have to hope your friend can keep a secret,” Peter attempted for nonchalant.
Something in Storm seemed to relax as she placed a gentle hand on Jean’s shoulder. “I will not say a word, Peter Parker. Your secret is safe with me, as it is with Jean. Though I suggest you change before the others stir.”
“Right. Yeah. Sure, uh, just a second…”
Peter launched a web into the bedroom, grabbing the clothes he had left out for when he got back, and quickly ducked into the bathroom. Jean let out a breath of relief at Peter’s timely interference, but that was quickly gone as Jean spun back to stare at her with an amused look on her face.
“It appears you and Peter have different definitions of parting on bad terms,” she mused.
“Yeah, well, the only reason he was dying was because I put him in that situation,” Jean huffed as she put the rest of her juice pop on the sink. “Plus, I kinda ditched him. After I saved his life. And then I disappeared from his life entirely.”
“Peter does keep tabs on you, Jean,” E.V. suddenly spoke up out of nowhere, causing both girls to jump. “The Avengerz, with a Z, were tasked with tracking you down after what occurred with the Department of Damage Control. When Peter found out, he bartered with the Avengerz to be the one to watch you. He has kept his distance, but-”
“E.V. Mute.”
Peter stepped out of the bathroom with his arms crossed. Jean wasn’t entirely sure what she’d done with the suit, but she wasn’t going to ask, either.
“Sorry. About her. I created her to be helpful, and sometimes she can be a bit too helpful.”
Jean wished she could be offended, wished she could lash out and get frustrated at Peter for probably stalking her for the Avengerz, or whatever. But she was tired. So, so tired.
“They were going to send the Avengerz after me?”
Peter pursed his lips as he moved to his computer.
“Yelena, the new Black Widow, sent me a warning the second she found out the ordinance for your man-hunt was going to be issued to them.”
“Man-hunt?” Storm gaped. “Why on Earth would there be an ordinance out for your head?”
Jean didn’t answer. Neither did Peter. Instead, Peter pulled up several documents and records he had compiled about Jean. Photos, transcripts, documents, passports. Anything connected to Jean Grey, Peter had it, even if it was under a fake name or alias.
“The Avengerz don’t have this,” Peter said softly. “The government doesn’t have any of this, either. All of the information gathered is kept on a private server shared between me and one other guy named Harley. Yelena was kind enough to give me that jurisdiction so long as I report anything I think is off.”
Jean knew Peter well enough to know he’d never rat her out like that, even if something was wrong. The idiot would probably come and confront her, himself. But it was because Jean knew Peter that she knew there was more to the situation than what Peter was telling her.
“E.V. said you bartered. What did you give in return?”
“That’s-that’s not important.”
“Peter.”
“He revealed his identity to Yelena Belova and James Buchanan Barnes.”
“WHAT!?”
“E.V.! Mute!”
“Peter Parker!” Jean hissed at him.
“All I did was show them my face!” Peter raised his hands in surrender. “And Harley and I created a program that scrubs my face from any and all databases. So it’s not like they can use it for anything.”
“Aren’t they both assassins?” Jean demanded. “What if they don’t need technology? And what if they get mind-possessed?”
“Well, then, it’s a good thing I know a wizard!”
Jean punched him. Hard. Not nearly hard enough because of his stupid super-human strength. But he at least had the decency to make it look like she hurt him a little bit. And then he had the audacity to give a small, amused chuckle, so she punched him again. This time with enough force to cause a sharp flare of pain to shoot through her knuckles. She tried to shake it off as she glared at him, but he was still smiling all amused and nervous like an idiot.
“It was worth it,” Peter told her gently. “You’re happy at that school. I can tell.”
“I might be,” Jean agreed as passive-aggressively as possible.
“You definitely are.”
“I am, yeah.”
Peter’s smile only grew wider at the confirmation. Jean almost hated him for it. Those warm brown eyes, and the way they lit up when he was happy and pleased. There was a spark of pride in that smile, too. Peter had been watching her to keep her safe, and all he cared about was how happy she was.
Jean tipped forward.
As she knew they would, Peter’s arm came up and wrapped around her, allowing her to slump against his chest. She took a purposefully long time to bring her arms up to wrap him in a return hug. An act that made Peter outright laugh. She huffed at him, not bothering to tell him off with words as she buried her face in his chest.
This was nice. Better than she could have hoped for.
Jean didn't bother to let go as she turned her face to look out over the room, still smushing herself against his chest.
“And what about you? I see you got a new chair. And a better bed. Still judging you about the protein powder. You somehow got more of it?”
“That was Ned,” Peter chuckled. “He found out I wasn't eating properly and maybe, sorta, decided to be petty about it.”
Jean lifted her head to stare up at Peter.
“You talked to Ned?”
“I mean, well, ‘talked’ is a bit of a stretch. More like… Okay. So back before things, Ned and I had this handshake we did. It was our thing, you know? So when I finally went to talk to him, I panicked.”
“Shocker.”
Peter gave her a flat glare that had her grinning.
“Yeah, well, he offered his hand for a regular handshake and I instigated the special handshake. And it… it triggered something. Not-not everything. But we talked to the wizard, Wong, not Strange, and he seems to think its because Ned is magical, too. And we may or may not have accidentally made our handshake a spell-”
“How do you make a handshake a spell?”
“With a sling ring and sheer dumb stupidity, according to Wong.”
That sounded about right. Leave it to Peter Parker to somehow make a loop hole on sheer dumb luck. Days and hours of keeping Peter alive had allowed Jean to see his memories in a way no one else would ever be able to share or remember. Jean probably knew Peter better than anyone alive, and she wasn't even sure how to tell him.
“How’s your Peter Tingle?” Jean asked, if only to get out of the conversation she had been running from.
“My-? Oh, we do not call it that anymore. Nope. Nuh uh. We're calling it Spidey-Sense.”
“Fine. Then how is your Spidey-Sense?”
Peter was giving her a funny look, but he obliged. “It's working, if that’s what you're asking. Better than ever, actually. I’ve had some help from a guy in Hell's Kitchen. Why?”
“The blonde in the other room is a telepath, too. She likes to read minds a lot. Especially people she doesn't trust.”
Peter titled his head in a way that was a little too knowing. He didn't ask, not outright, but Jean still squirmed in the embrace neither had dared to break. Eventually the weight of the stare got to be too much and she ducked her face back against his chest.
Peter rudely decided to laugh at her again.
Here she was, trying to be all nice and comforting, and he was laughing at her. Like she hadn't seen how lonely he had been for the last four years. Like she didn't know the isolation had caused him to mutate. Like she didn't know Peter hated himself.
But she hadn't told him she knew all that.
“You should get some sleep,” Peter hummed into her hair.
“What about you?” Jean argued.
“E.V. is doing surveillance,” Peter shrugged as they finally pulled away. “I’ll clean up again. Double check Bird-Man’s wounds, and then I’ll probably pass out at my desk chair. It's been a long day.”
Jean frowned, hands immediately flying back to Peter. “Are you hurt?”
Peter shook his head. “No. No. Just… got some things cleaned up. Saved up enough to go to college. I'm at ESU now. With Doctor Banner as my physics teacher. He assigns a lot of homework to make up for all the insane questions he gets asked in the middle of his lectures."
College. Peter was going to college. Peter going to college meant that he had somehow gotten some sort of identity. It meant he wasn't spending all his time as Spider-Man anymore.
“How’d you manage that?” Jean asked, throat tight as she could almost feel the joy sparking off Peter. “I thought all your records had been erased.”
“Yeah, well, turns out Yelena and Bucky can be pretty persistent about identity and grounding and stuff. And then they sicked Bob on me. And then Frank, you remember Frank?”
“The guy that took guns to a Hulk fight and shot you? Yeah, I remember Frank.”
Peter gave a nervous laugh. “Frank knows some pretty good lawyers. Between a bunch of persistent Avengerz, Harley, Frank, some pretty good lawyers, and Ned and MJ, I got that fixed. Sort of.”
He was happy, too. She could see it in the way he spoke the names.
“You hang out a lot with this Harley person?” Jean pressed.
Peter gave a non-commital shrug. “He’s alright. But of a genius, himself. Likes to play with things he shouldn't. Shows up in my apartment without asking. Picks at my AI a lot. Has a worse sleep schedule than me, and no sympathy for finals week. Kind of a leech, honestly-”
“Are you trying to convince me you finally stopped being a recluse, or are you trying to convince me I need to go tell Frank to take care of this guy?”
Peter laughed, a little amused and a little nervous. “Harley… he’s good. Good for me, I think. He… we… uh, we had a mentor in common. And he sought me out to help with a project of his. We’ve been kinda inseparable ever since.”
Jean found herself nodding. “I know. I’ve been keeping up with everyone's favorite web-slinger and his new pals, too.”
And it was true. Rogue always teased Jean for her weird obsession with Spider-Man. She was constantly looking him up. Always watching videos of his bigger fights in the background of her study times. Even going as far as to read the terrible Daily Bugle articles that always bashed him.
“Spider-Man and Iron Lad” had been a trending tag for the last two months. That and their little team they seemed to be forming.
“I think Aunt May would be proud of you,” Jean said softly.
Because she could give him that. Because she was probably the only person in the world who knew what May Parker meant to Peter Parker, and the fear he harboured about how disappointed she might be.
“I hope so,” he whispered back.
And for a moment, it was just the two of them. Smiling like loons. Like there wasn't any weird history between them. It felt normal and not at the same time.
But a slight twitch of Peter's brow and a slow turn of his head towards the bedroom had Jean remembering they weren't alone.
“I’ve got bedding in the closet by the bathroom,” Peter offered gently, quickly dropping his gaze. “Let me check Bird-Man, and-”
“Warren,” Jean corrected, already pulling back. “His name is Warren. He wasn't bitten by a radioactive bird or anything.”
Peter snorted a laugh through his nose and gave her a light shove. “Yeah, well, not all of us get our cool powers from a mutated genome, Jean. Some of us just have to have really bad luck on a Field Trip.”
“Is it luck if it happened through your own stupidity?” Jean fired back.
Peter gave a mock gasping sound, turning to Storm. Jean has honestly forgotten the other girl was still awake. She has to purposefully spin towards the cabinet and pull down the bedding to hide her embarrassed flush.
“You see what I put up with,” Peter mock grumbled as he began to mess with the webbing on Warren’s wing. “You do something nice…”
Peter’s voice trailed off, but not in a bad way. Just turning around, Jean could see Peter was carefully moving the webbing around to properly cover the wound, using delicate fingers to gently probe and guide the intricate pattern to both hold the wound shut, and keep it clean. E.V. had said the webs were laced with medication, meant to act as a sort of bandage on top of offering treatment. Peter was lost in his own little world.
Jean set the bedding on the ground in front of the recliner, motioning Storm to join her. They were safe here. Peter would protect them. And even if something did go wrong, he would save them.
It was a thought that soothed Jean as she drifted off to sleep, safe for the first time in days.