Chapter Text
“I’ve been thinking—”
“That’s not good.”
“About revoking my no-kill rule.”
Angelica stops eating from the takeout box. Strands of Lo Mein fall back in. “Excuse me?”
“You know, my no-kill rule?”
Bobby raises his chopsticks and snaps them like the jaws of an alligator. “You mean the one where you brutally hurt them to the point where they wish they were dead?”
“That’s an exaggeration.” Peter throws his hands up in frustration. “Have you been reading the Bugle?”
“It’s to stay informed and civically engaged.”
“I don’t even hurt them! I literally just use the webs to neutralize the threat—” He stops himself from being sidetracked. “The rule. I’ve been thinking about revoking that.”
“But… why?” Angelica asks, a little more concerned now.
“… I think Spider-Man needs better street cred.”
“What could be better than the ‘Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man’, dude?” Bobby says, tilting his head. “I mean, take it from a mutie. Sure the press hates you, but the New York Press hates everyone.”
“If word gets around that Spider-Man kills,” Angelica adds, “they’ll be terrified.”
Peter snaps his fingers. “Exactly! They’d be terrified, and as Machiavelli said, it’s better to be feared than loved.”
“That wasn’t the main point. He said to try to be loved and respected first. That literally wasn’t the point.”
Peter waves his hand, dismissing the political philosophy. “A little wouldn’t hurt. Just a healthy dose of fear.”
“Peter,” Angelica says with a frown. “As your roommate—”
“You guys aren’t my roommates—”
“I know you think of yourself as non-threatening with your stupid jokes. But in actuality… you’re kind of terrifying.”
“Yeah, dude. Imagine a dude you can’t see roaming around the streets, able to lift a car, and dodge bullets like it’s nothing. I mean, there’s a reason people are afraid of spiders.”
“Doesn’t feel like it,” Peter mutters. “Just one kill to send a message wouldn’t hurt.”
“What message?” Bobby asks, incredulous.
“It really would in this scenario,” Angelica adds.
Peter makes a face. “Hmm, would it though?”
“Yes!”
He throws his hands up in frustration. “I just need people to take me a little more seriously.”
“You barely take yourself seriously,” she chides.
“That could change.”
“Is this your no-more-mister nice guy?” Bobby says, amused. He picks a spring roll and waggles it at Peter.
“It’s called being locked in.”
“You’ve got the best marketing, Peter,” Angelica says, laughing. “There’s absolutely no need for a rebrand.”
“Then maybe people will stop drooling over Marvel Girl!”
“… What?”
He throws his hands up in frustration, proceeding to scratch the back of his head. He sighs. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
“No, wait. Time out.”
“No. No time out. I’m taking the rest of the Lo Mein—”
“I finished it anyway,” Angelica says with a roll of her hands. “What’s this about Marvel Girl?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Not nothing. You were thinking of catching a body!”
“I still am,” he mutters.
Bobby points at him. “See? Intent. We heard it here, and that makes me liable as a witness, and I don’t like that. I can’t go to trial, Angelica.”
She crosses her arms and gives Peter a stern look. “Peter—”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s clearly not nothing. Is it something the X-Men said? I told you, maybe you should reveal your identity to the others—
“No. And I won’t. And it’s not about that.”
“Then what’s this about?”
“I don’t know.” Peter slumps back on the couch. His hands trace the stress creases of his face. A sigh escapes, something held from the deepest part of him. “I just don’t know.”
“Let’s start…” she says, “with how you feel.”
Peter just groans, while Bobby rolls his eyes. “Not this again. I’m not a child.”
“Then stop acting like one.”
Bobby stares off for a bit before looking at Peter. “You want me to turn on the game? The Knicks are going against the Celtics tonight.”
“Yeah, let’s do that—”
“No!” She scoffs. “I swear. Grown men will do anything but unpack their emotions.”
“There are no emotions to unpack… Maybe besides a little annoyance. That’s all.”
Angelica raises her eyebrows. Peter raises them back and stabs his chopsticks in her direction. “No. Stop.”
She raises them higher.
He sighs. “I think—”
“Ep, ep,” she tuts him.
He sighs louder. “I feel,” he says, rolling his eyes, “… annoyed when I see people fawning over her. That’s all.”
“To the point where it makes you want to kill them?”
“Not really… Just a little.”
“There you go, now was that so hard?”
“Yes,” Peter grumbles.
“Brunson already has 20 points before halftime,” Bobby mutters, scrolling on his phone.
“Bobby! You’re not helping—woah, really? That’s incredible—” Angelica takes a breath. She shakes her head. “Now, why are you annoyed that so many guys are drooling over our friend?”
“It’s… It’s disrespectful, that’s all.”
Angelica blinks. “What?”
“It’s… disrespectful. Yeah.” Peter nods, slowly convincing himself more and more. He seemed almost… happy about the revelation. “She spends all her energy and time trying to be the best hero she can be and… and… it’s like, most of the guys are too busy ogling at her to acknowledge that.”
Bobby keeps his eyes on his phone. “Might be a career night for him,” he whispers.
“You’re kidding, right?” Angelica asks disbelievingly.
“No, I’m not kidding! She’s one of the most powerful heroes we have, and people are just too busy staring at her legs!”
“No one stares at her legs.” Angelica squints at him.
Peter looks away, blushing. “A lot of people do.”
She doesn’t look convinced. “Uh, huh.”
“There’s Scott—”
“Who’s happily seeing Emma Emma… to the extent someone can be happy with her—”
“And don’t get me started on Logan—”
“Our teacher? Peter, he’s been alive since like… WW2. He literally fought with Captain America. That’s gross—”
“And the whole world is drooling over her! It’s disgusting.”
“Okay, she’s attractive. People are attracted to her. Is that a big deal?”
Peter opens his mouth before closing it. “No,” he grumbles. “It’s not.”
But the truth is that he can’t stop picturing the way others undress her with their eyes. It shouldn’t matter to him. It really shouldn’t.
He can’t stop the way it makes his hands coil into fists, and his jaw clench tight where he grits his teeth and his heart is just burning hot.
What’s the matter with him?
(She’s going to leave you. She’s only patrolling with you now, taking the time out of her weekend to hang out with you in New York now, because she’s just a rookie. Sooner or later, she’s going to forget about you. They all do.)
(Shut up.)
His hand runs through his hair.
He sighs, letting out that feeling of hurt and fear he’s buried for so long.
He doesn’t get to claim her—she’s her own person. He shouldn’t feel so sour that she’s rising in popularity, which was rightfully earned. He shouldn’t try to be such a burden and drag her down to his pettiness because he knows: she has the potential to be a far better hero than him. She has the powers and the heart to make an impact far beyond his neighborhood and reach across the world—maybe even across dimensions—and not just for mankind but for mutants as well.
Why should his little insecurity stop all of that?
“You’re right… You’re right.”
Bobby looks at Angelica. “You should have recorded that.”
“Peter,” she says softly, a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“I… I shouldn’t be bothered by all of this. It’s childish.”
“It’s only natural,” she says.
He looks at her. “Is it?”
She shrugs. “Jealousy is part of being a hero. We don’t mean to, but we compare. We get scared over what we have and that we might lose it. We… we have a harder time knowing that even with all our powers… things aren’t in our control.”
Angelica tries to give him a reassuring smile.
“But we try.”
Peter inhales a sharp breath.
(She’ll leave you, Peter. She’s off to better things, and you’re not going to be able to be a part of it.)
(Then when that happens, I’m going to let her go.)
He cracks a smile. “Yeah… I guess this all got me thinking about why I’m being so petty and jealous.” He sighs. “Maybe it’s just me wondering what that’s like.”
She frowns. “What do you mean?”
“You know… just being popular, I guess.” He shrugs. “Not saying I want girls fawning over me; that’s weird. But… you can’t blame me for being a little jealous over the attention.”
“… What?”
“She’s so popular now,” he says nonchalantly.
Maybe… maybe he really was that petty and insecure to be jealous of Jean Gray.
Maybe. He wouldn’t put it past him.
Because what other reason would he be jealous for?
“It’s just a lot to see so many guys crushing on her, you know? Can you imagine what that’s like?”
“And you don’t have adoring fans or… or people fawning over you?”
Peter frowns. “Umm… I doubt it. Like sure, there’s Spider-Man fans out there. But,” he shrugs, “it’s just different, I think? It’s not like anyone is crushing on me.”
Angelica closes her eyes. She looks up at the ceiling, her hand wiping her face, and whispers in the softest voice, oh my God, before she looks back down at Bobby. Peter catches them having a silent conversation.
He frowns. “What’s that? Stop that.”
“Hey, Peter—”
“No, don’t you Peter me. What was that? What did you guys talk about?”
“It’s nothing,” she says with a forced smile. She just shakes her head. “I don’t know what Jean sees you in. Now, come on, I want to see if Brunson can hit fifty tonight.”
She turns on the TV. And the three of them sit on the couch, comfortable, the food almost empty, their belly full, and warm.
“Between you and me?” Peter says, as her head leans comfortably against his shoulder and she rests her foot on Bobby’s lap, “I don’t know what she sees in me either.”
Angelica only chuckles. “That’s so like you, Peter.”
And they all sat there, watching the Knicks win the game.
#
Peter stares across the rooftop, frowning.
This… this is new.
She had luscious white hair. The tight leather suit stuck to her skin, following the curves of her body. He swallows a spit, trying not to follow the way her outline is traced in the air, the way there’s the smallest exposure of her chest—
(Stop, Peter. Don’t make crime-fighting weird.)
She simply stands across from him, hand against her hip, which swayed with each step and—
(Peter)
Right. Crime. Crime-fighting. Which is what’s happening right now.
“I’ve been looking for you,” she says with a smile, her voice smooth and low and has a way of sliding into his ear.
“Yeah, well, I’m a busy guy in New York.”
“It’s impolite to make the girl be the one to chase.”
She lunges at him. He merely rolls over, grabs her by the arm, and tosses her with a judo throw. She lands perfectly on her feet.
Of course.
“Always so rough on the first tumble?” she asks with a grin.
“Sorry, but there’s a whole lot more in store for you.”
“Promise?”
He launches two webs at her. She effortlessly dodges them with a somersault. And as she lands, she studies the material. “I hope you’re not planning on getting any of that in my hair.”
“Oh, don’t worry. There’s a Five-in-One Shampoo that will help you get it all off.”
“Tempting,” she says with a smirk. “Maybe I’ll let myself get caught if you’re the one to wash it off.”
He launches himself to her, grabbing her by the arm once again, but she knows the trick. She twirls herself around, and he feels her legs arch over his arms, and through the momentum, he’s thrown off the roof.
As he falls, he launches a web to swing himself back up the roof.
“Hmm. No thanks. My catholic guilt is telling me no kissing or even handholding before marriage.”
“Who said anything about doing it before?” She slides toward him, underneath his three shots of web, landing up on one foot, the other knee on the ground, now holding his hands. “Why don’t you marry me, Spider-Man?”
“I… what are you—”
And before he could respond, she reaches from her back and throws powder—powder?—at him. He coughs a bit, being delirious, before falling.
“You… can’t,” he says between wheezes, “play… with… a maiden’s heart like that.”
“Sorry, Spider,” she coos. “But you’re just too cute not to play with.”
Still feeling disoriented, he falls to his knees. The powder hasn’t knocked him out. His spider senses are still intact, but they remain awfully quiet…
Was she really not a threat to him?
Before he could respond, she kneels. Her finger traces up from his shoulder to his neck, to his chin. He’s shivering, and before he could stop her, she lifts it up to his chin.
She lifts it to his nose. No, he thinks desperately. Stop. Don’t— And before anything else, she stops.
She frowns, as though she were disappointed in herself, before sighing.
“When you do reveal yourself to me,” she says, “I want it to be from your own volition.”
He coughs, feeling the fresh air unfiltered.
“A little treat for being such a good kitty?”
Before he could respond, she grabs him by the chin and reaches to kiss him. And just before their lips met—
The Black Cat flinches back. Her hand travels to her head. She starts to float up. She yelps, thrown without saying a word.
Peter looks up, his own coughing starting to cease, at a looming figure. Jean, he thinks in relief. Marvel Girl.
Golden mask with a green uniform. Her red locks flowed with the wind.
He grins, raising his hands to his face, and pretends to swoon. “My hero.”
“Get up.”
Her voice is harsh, clinically cold.
"Thanks, Jean. You really saved my..." He falters at the sight of her crossing her arms, glaring at him.
"You pulled your punches."
"I... What?"
"You pulled your punches. You fought Thanos. You fought the Hulk. You even fought Captain America." She frowns. "And a woman in a black leather suit bested you."
"She caught me by surprise!"
She does not look convinced.
"How was I supposed to know she had knockout powder hidden? It's not like she was wearing any..." He trails off.
"Oh?" She raises her eyebrows at him. She takes a step closer.
I, Peter thinks to himself very slowly, may have made a very big mistake here.
"Wearing what?" She presses. Her eyes flare up—is he imagining the flames?
"It's just..."
"Was it what she was wearing—or lack of—that made you so distracted? Can you give me a reason? Maybe two big ones, in fact?"
"It's not like that!" He feels heat creep from the back of his neck. "She brought it out of nowhere!"
"Nowhere," she sneers. "Who knows what other weapons she had in her back pocket—don't imagine that!"
Too late.
The image of the Black Cat bending down, her hand reaching to the back...
"Peter Parker."
He flinches at the voice ringing through his head like a clear bell.
"What did I tell you NOT to do?"
"I can't help it!" He protests. "It's like... it's like saying don't think of a blue elephant!"
"How low can you go?"
She looks at him like he committed murder. He just wants to hide in a hole.
There's a million more excuses ready in the back of his mind when that sultry, low voice rings across the skyline.
"I'm still here, you know."
They turn their faces around. Peter slowly creeps his head over as though any sudden movement will give himself away. Jean's head whiplashes, hard.
There she is—Black Cat. Her arms were over the rail, and she was peeking just her head up, the rest of her body hanging from the rooftop.
Isn't that dangerous? He wonders before traitorously thinking of what the people down at the ground level see.
What a view that must be, he thinks, before immediately thinking other thoughts when Jean's eyes glance back at him.
She didn't... she didn't read that, right?
With her glare piercing through him, he wasn't so sure.
"Look what the cat dragged in," Jean mutters to herself. Her voice almost vitriolic.
Black Cat tilts her head, leaning it against her forearm. "I'm just here to drag something back out," she says. Her fingers slide across the floor towards Peter. "Forgot my little toy is all."
"I.. Um." Peter feels his mouth dry up and coughs.
"Go steal another necklace," Jean snaps.
"Not unless someone is swinging out there to catch me. What's a crime without a little thrill?"
"Great," Jean says, rolling her eyes. "She's going to be one of those villains."
"You were one of those villains too, little girl."
She flinches back like she was struck. Her glare hardens. "What do you want?" Jean demands.
"Now, now," the Black Cat coos. "There's no need for hostility here. We can all be friends. I just wanted to get to know New York's hero is all. Can't blame a cat for being curious."
"You do know what happens to those curious cats, right?"
"Jea—I mean, Marvel Girl," Peter admonishes. "You shouldn't threaten people like that!"
She just purses her lips further. "Whose side are you on?"
"What? It's... It's not about sides right now!"
"Who knows what she's plotting!"
"Don't worry about her, Spidey," Black Cat says. "I don't bite... unless that's exactly what you want."
(She's manipulating you, Spider-Man.)
(And it's working)
"Sorry," Peter says with a forced, really weak grin. "I was taught to be wary of strangers."
Jean gives the thief a triumphant look before wiping it away back into a blank slate. The Black Cat just tilts her head and purses her lips, like she's thinking deeply, like between the three of them, there's a puzzle that could just be solved.
Something must have clicked, because she gives a Cheshire grin that makes his stomach flip and heart clench in fear and excitement and worry.
"Well, that can be arranged," she says.
Jean frowns. "What do you mean—"
"Felicia Hardy. Living in Flushing, Queens. You know the apartment next to the retro-cafe with good matcha? Third floor with the potted plant next to the window. Can't miss it."
There is silence between all three of them now. She looks satisfied at the dumbstruck look on the two heroes' faces.
"Um, nice to meet you," Peter says with a wave.
"Pleasure's all mine."
Silence stretches. Peter feels tempted to just... take off his mask, and maybe he would have done so if Jean wasn't glaring at him hard.
"Uhh... see you around?" Peter says. Jean slaps his arm.
"That," Felicia says as she lifts herself from the rails, "you will do. That's a promise. Feel free to swing by."
And with a final wink, she flips off the building, diving into the ground at terminal velocity. All Peter can think is that he hopes the saying about cats landing on their feet is true.
Felicia was gone, and Peter was just left with an angry omega-level mutant, crossing her arms, looking at him.
He raises his arms weakly. "The heroes save the day... yay?"
"You should have arrested her," she snaps. Peter flinches at the harsh voice, so cold that it makes his mind tighten like a brain freeze. "She's a criminal, Peter."
"What was I supposed to arrest her for?" He protests. "She didn't steal anything."
"I don't know!" Jean throws her hands up. "But something! Anything! She was wearing a sex suit around children! Probably? Maybe? Public indecency?"
"That means they're going to have to arrest me too."
"... It's not the same."
"Why does she bother you so much?"
She opens her mouth, before closing it and looking away.
"Bad intentions," she mutters.
He frowns. "You read her mind?"
"No... Because I made a promise not to." Peter smiles at that. She catches it, blushes, and looks away. "She just... she just has bad intentions with you, Peter!"
"She's just playing around."
"So you'll just play around with her?"
He stops.
The air between them is static. She crosses her arms, looking down.
"Jean..."
He wants to say something, anything, but he's just not sure. Was she upset that he's... playing around...
While she's busy fighting cosmic, inter-dimensional beings?
He tries to imagine it from her perspective, and he softens the confusion and frustration he feels churning in his stomach.
Maybe it wasn't fair.
"Okay," he says again, softer this time. "I... I think I'm getting it now."
"You do?" She looks back up. She faces him, curious, a little more hopeful and eager to hear what he was going to say.
"I know you're all the way back at the mansion, while I'm here... and even if there's a way to reach you, it still feels like you're so far away."
She only nods, mutely.
"And maybe you're jealous."
She stiffens. "It's... not that I don't trust you," she stammers, "or that I have the right to be. Look, I know I sound silly—"
He raises his hands. She immediately stops.
"It's not silly," he says. "Not at all."
She widens her eyes. "Really?"
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ears. Peter offers her a reassuring smile. She's cute when she blushes, he thinks.
"Yeah. I know it can be maddening. It can make you go crazy. It happens to me all the time too, you know, when I see you with your X-Men."
Her eyes perk up. "You do?"
"But that doesn't mean I think you shouldn't hang out with them! Beyond the jealousy, I'm actually just happy for you. Truly. It's just... seeing you with them, all friendly and buddy-buddy. Well—" He shrugs. "Jealousy is normal. I think it's part of being a superhero."
"Peter..." She swallows. "I'm so glad—"
"You're out there in the world, fighting big stuff, while I'm here just fighting petty crimes. My job is easier than yours, so it's only natural to be a little jealous. I don't blame you. The things you tell me about what you have to fight on a weekly basis," he shudders, "yeah, no thanks."
"... What?"
"You have a team for a reason, and I get a little jealous sometimes. But," he shrugs. "You're in the big leagues now, Jean. And me? What did Yelena say... ah! Small potato."
He motions to Jean, widening his hands, while pointing them back to himself and gesturing the distance between his hands barely hovering apart.
"Small potato," he says in a Russian accent.
"Small potato," she repeats it as though she's making sure she heard it right.
"Small potato." He nods.
Her right eye twitches just the slightest bit, and he smiles.
Right on the mark.
He continues his Parker-signature speech. "I always knew you had the potential and powers far beyond what I deal with daily. And for that, I'm proud of you! You're reaching new heights that I couldn't even imagine! And that's not to mention dealing with social discrimination regularly and fighting for mutant rights..." He trails off, sparing a glance back to Jean, who was simply—
Glaring at him.
"Uh... Jean?"
She closes her eyes, sharply inhales through her nose, counts to five, and exhales through her mouth.
She pinches the bridge of her nose.
They stand there.
"We're going home," she says suddenly.
He frowns. "Your home? Like to Westchester County—"
"Back to our apartment."
"What? Uh, yeah... yeah. We should get going back to my, I mean, our apartment—"
"And we're getting dinner," she says sharply.
"Oh... Um, yeah! Okay. Yeah, no—dinner sounds good. I have some frozen pizza back in the freezer—"
"Peter Parker."
He flinches. Fear blooms within his stomach when he hears her call him by his full name.
She stares at him with a blank face.
"You're taking me to a restaurant."
"… I'm taking you to a restaurant."
"I want Korean tonight."
"... We'll go to Han Oak tonight."
"And we're getting ice cream after."
"And we're getting ice cream after."
"And we're watching a movie, a rom-com."
"But the Knicks play tonight—" His protest dies in his throat when she raises her eyebrows. "And we're watching... When Harry Met Sally?"
She hums in approval.
Jean walks past him and begins to float down the rooftop. "It's a start, Parker."
He's alone on the rooftop. He feels he simultaneously passed a test he didn't realize he was taking, failed it, took it again, failed it even harder, and still managed to get another try.
Peter looks down and watches the green uniform glow against the setting sun. He thinks about how beautiful her red hair lashes against the wind. She turns back up, expectantly waiting, and he smiles.
He has yet to know why it makes the back of his neck flush the way it does. Why it makes his palms sweaty. And why his lips keep curling up, staying as a smile.
Maybe… Maybe…
(Let her go, Peter)
He feels a chill down his spine, remembering all the conversation from before with Iceman and Firestar. He stifles a smile.
How long can this life of theirs last?
Ever since she enrolled in Xavier’s school, training to become an X-Man, he found himself integrated deeper into another reality. Already, he revealed his identity to Bobby and Angelica—codename Iceman and Firestar—who occasionally crashed over at his apartment as they attended Empire State University. But the others… the rest of the X-Men, they don’t know. They can’t know. It’s bad enough the two already know.
That’s the way Jean preferred.
Should we tell them? He asked one time, as he sat in her dorm room. She swiveled her chair around to face him, surprise on her face.
Why?
He shrugged. I think Xavier suspects it. Surely, the telepath knows. And Logan might be wondering why I smell so similar to the Spider-Suit.
Logan barely comes across Spider-Man enough to make the connection.
…Do you want to?
Peter paused at that. Did he want to? He really enjoyed the X-Man. He thought Jubilee was a bright dash of joy. Ororo was the friend Jean needed. Anna Marie. Kitty. Kurt. Scott.
He shrugged again.
She was a leader now. She was no longer the lost soul who was sworn for revenge. She was a hero. She was the X-Men’s hero.
Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want himself known to the X-Men. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t want it either. It hurt, it stung Peter that there was still a boundary Jean placed between him and the X-Men, but he understood.
He doesn’t want to be the reason he pulls her away from them.
Even if that’s what is already happening.
She belongs with the X-Men. And he needs to stop being selfish and recognize that.
Still, as she comes over during the weekends, as they patrol through New York, as it’s now Spider-Man and the Mysterious Marvel Girl…
He’s terrified to let her go.
Because there will come a time when he needs to.
She smiles back before realizing that she’s mad at him for reasons, fights the corner of her lips back down, and simply stares. But there’s a glow in her eyes, some indication that she’s excited.
Peter can’t help but laugh and follow her.
He’ll get this delicate dance between them right. He’ll figure it out. He has to—he just can’t hurt her in the process.
As long as it takes to get this right. Whatever this is, he thinks.
He'll keep trying.