Archive of Our Own

Jean woke up feeling disoriented, with little memory of where she was or how she had gotten there.

She knew she wasn't in her bed in her room at the Xavier Mansion, because the bed she was lying in was very uncomfortable. And despite that, she had slept better than she had in a very long time.

And then everything suddenly came rushing back to her mind.

The mansion, the argument with Rogue, her hurtful words, the silence of the others, her escape, the apartment window she had climbed through, Peter, welcoming her without questioning anything, the mint tea, the conversation, the dilemma over sleeping in the same bed, and...

And her asking Peter to let her get closer to him, eventually falling asleep against him.

Jean felt her cheeks beginning to heat up.

"Oh..." she murmured, and then remembered Peter telling her that she was too beautiful to be awake in the middle of the night, and covered her face with both hands. "Oh my God..."

Of all the things Jean Grey feared could happen, this was by far the most ridiculous of all, and also a rather concerning one for her.

Soon, for better or worse, she realized that Peter wasn't in bed when she turned to her right. She touched the empty space beside her and felt that it was still slightly warm. That meant Peter was awake, but he hadn't been up for very long.

Jean stared at the empty space for a few seconds. Then she heard a noise coming from the kitchen, something metallic. She debated for a moment whether to go out and see what was happening or stay there instead, calmly processing everything that had happened in the early hours of the morning. When she noticed that she was still wearing Peter's shirt and pajama pants, she felt her face grow even hotter, and ultimately decided it would be better to get up.

She stood up, her bare feet touching the cold floor of the apartment. She walked to the bedroom door, and the moment she opened it, she thought that maybe it would have been better to stay in bed a little longer.

Peter was kneeling in the middle of his living room with the air conditioner on the floor, opened up and exposing its interior. He was repairing the unit since it hadn't been working for weeks, and today he had finally decided to fix it because it was far too hot that day to keep going without it, and besides, he had a guest and didn't want Jean to melt because of the heat...

...The thing was, Jean was melting for completely different reasons, namely the sight of the muscles in Peter's back working at full force as he repaired the inside of the air conditioner.

Peter deliberately wore clothes that were too large for him to hide the muscles developed from the spider bite and his eight years of experience as Spider-Man. His apartment was the only place where he had no reason to hide himself, and considering that it was 84 degrees that day, he decided that simply going shirtless would be much more effective for this job.

Peter was kneeling on the wooden floor in front of the unit, wearing nothing but a pair of worn-out gray sweatpants. He was completely covered in a thin layer of sweat that made his skin glisten beneath the intense sunlight filtering through the blinds. Every time he forcefully turned the heavy wrench to tighten the internal mounting bracket, the defined muscles in his back and shoulders rippled and contracted, revealing every last bit of the superhuman strength he possessed.

He raised one arm to wipe his forehead with the back of his wrist; the broad muscles of his lats tensed as he reached his hand into the metal casing.

Jean swallowed with difficulty; her mouth had gone completely dry. Her heart pounded against her ribs like a trapped bird. She felt a wave of intense heat rising from the center of her chest all the way to her ears, and it only got worse when he turned around while checking something between his hands and Jean, almost without thinking, lowered her gaze to his chest, seeing the well-defined muscles covered in sweat. His abs and broad shoulders were a stark contrast to the scrawny image he wanted to give everyone when he wasn't Spider-Man.

Jean wanted to blame her hormones. It was the logical explanation; she was simply acting this way because she was 21 and watching a 23-year-old guy flex his sweaty muscles that looked like they had been carved from stone. Anyone in her situation would be just as overwhelmed as she was, especially knowing that the nearly shirtless person standing in front of her was her crush.

But then Peter stretched, flexing the muscles in his arms and abdomen, and Jean almost felt her own mouth fall open as her eyes remained glued to Peter's body.

"All that meat and me without teeth..." she thought out of nowhere, covering her mouth when she realized what she had just thought as she tried to force herself to look away.

She lasted approximately five seconds before looking at him again. She crossed one arm and bit her lip while twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. She shouldn't be looking at her friend like this, but damn it, she wanted to be suffocated by those arms...

Before she could quietly sneak away and pretend she had just woken up, a small metal washer slipped from Peter's fingers and clattered against the floorboards.

"Shit," Peter muttered, turning on his knees to look for it and freezing when he saw her standing by the doorway.

His brown eyes widened slightly as an intense scarlet blush rose up his neck and spread across his cheeks.

"Oh! Hi, Jean. Good morning." He sprang to his feet and immediately looked for the shirt he had taken off, like a guilty teenager caught red-handed. "I... uh... the air conditioner was making this horrible metallic noise and the condenser coil was clogged with dust, so I figured I'd clean the fan before it blew the fuse completely..."

"It's... okay," Jean managed to say, her voice a little higher than usual, trying—with absolutely no success—not to look at the defined line of his abs or the way his hair curled into damp, unruly strands across his forehead. "You... you don't have to put your shirt on. It's almost 85 degrees in here."

Peter paused, his gray shirt in his hand and his cheeks still flushed, while he gave her a shy, crooked smile.

"Yeah. It's really hot. I guess that's what happens when it's summer."

Peter let out a small nervous laugh and, after kneeling down again in front of the air conditioner, returned his attention to the unit.

"Well, I'd better finish this before the apartment turns into an oven," he murmured, picking up the wrench again. "Give me a few minutes and it should be working."

Jean nodded.

"Sure."

Peter put both hands back inside the machine and began adjusting one of the parts he had been repairing. Jean remained by the doorway, watching him in silence, though she quickly realized that she had made a terrible mistake by deciding to stay there.

Peter's back was once again completely exposed in front of her.

Jean swallowed.

The muscles in his shoulders tensed every time he exerted force with the tool, and the muscles in his back stood out with every movement. The morning light streamed through the blinds and painted stripes across his skin, making Jean remind herself that she needed to breathe.

"Don't look."

Jean turned her gaze toward one of the walls.

"Don't look."

Five seconds later, she looked again.

"Oh my God..." she whispered.

Completely oblivious, Peter continued working.

Jean brought a hand to her face.

"Please don't notice that I'm staring at you."

Her mind, however, seemed determined to do exactly the opposite of what she wanted. Every time Peter stretched out an arm, his shoulders tensed; every time he leaned forward, the muscles in his back shifted slightly.

"He's my friend."

Jean closed her eyes.

"My friend."

She opened them again.

"An absurdly attractive friend."

She bit the inside of her cheek.

"An absurdly attractive friend who, for some reason, decided to repair the air conditioner without a shirt."

Jean looked up at the ceiling as if she were seeking divine intervention.

"Please don't notice that I'm staring at you," she murmured.

"Did you say something?"

Jean froze, as Peter had turned his head slightly.

"No!" she replied far too quickly. "Nothing."

Peter watched her for a second with a confused expression.

"Ah."

He returned his attention to the air conditioner, and Jean slowly let out the breath she had been holding.

"I almost died."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Peter went back to work.

"This is ridiculous..." Jean covered her face.

Even so, when Peter raised both arms again to reach a part at the top of the unit, Jean looked again.

"I'm definitely doomed."

Peter finally finished tightening the last screw and moved a few inches away from the unit. He stared at it for a moment, as if checking that he hadn't forgotten any parts, and then plugged the system back in.

For a few seconds, nothing happened.

Then the air conditioner began to hum. A stream of cool air came out of the vent, and Peter's eyes widened with satisfaction.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, raising both arms. "It works!"

Jean smiled.

"You fixed it?"

"I fixed it."

Peter stood up and, after wiping his hands with a cloth, picked up his gray shirt from the back of a chair and put it back on.

Jean felt a small, inexplicable sense of disappointment.

"Why am I disappointed?"

Peter turned toward her.

"Well, now that we're not going to die of heat... do you want to get some breakfast?"

The question immediately snapped Jean out of her thoughts.

"Breakfast?"

"Yeah."

Peter walked over to the small kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He looked inside. Then he looked at its contents again. There was a bottle of water, some milk, a container with something that had probably been food several days ago, and three eggs.

Peter closed the refrigerator.

"Change of plans."

Jean let out a small laugh.

"What happened?"

"I don't have breakfast."

"You don't have anything?"

"I have three eggs, milk, and something that possibly has a consciousness of its own."

Jean raised an eyebrow.

"Then maybe we shouldn't eat that."

"I agree." Peter picked up his phone and quickly checked the time. "We can go out. I know a few places nearby where we can get breakfast."

"I'd love that," Jean smiled.

Peter smiled back.

And that was when Jean remembered something, her smile slowly fading. She had left the mansion without telling anyone. She hadn't spoken to Charles, hadn't left a message for Scott, and hadn't even told Ororo she was leaving.

Jean lowered her gaze.

"Oh, no..."

Peter immediately looked at her.

"What's wrong?"

"I..." Jean sighed. "I left the mansion without telling anyone."

Peter set his phone down on the table.

"They're probably worried."

"I know." Jean hugged herself slightly. "But I couldn't go back after what happened."

"You don't have to."

Jean looked up.

"I don't?"

"Not this morning." Peter shrugged. "If you need time, you need time."

Jean remained silent.

"You can talk to them when you're ready," Peter added. "You don't have to fix everything today."

Jean once again felt that sense of calm that only seemed to appear when she was with him.

"Thank you."

Peter smiled.

"Always."

Jean smiled back.

"Then yes. I'd love to have breakfast with you."

"Perfect." Peter grabbed a clean pair of pants and a shirt from his bedroom. "Just give me a minute to change."

Jean nodded, but before Peter could disappear down the hallway, she spoke.

"Can I use your shower?"

Peter stopped.

"My shower?"

"Yeah. If we're going out, I'd rather change and... well, I think I need a shower."

Peter pointed down the hallway.

"Sure. The bathroom is on the left, the second door."

Jean picked up the clothes she had carefully folded on a chair.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Jean walked toward the bathroom.

Peter began looking for clean clothes in his bedroom while listening to the bathroom door close.

And then he froze. He looked toward the door, then at his clothes, then back toward the door.

There was a woman in his apartment. A woman. In his bathroom. Taking a shower. And that woman was Jean Grey.

Peter blinked.

"No." He covered his face with both hands. "No, no, no, no."

His imagination, of course, decided to betray him at the worst possible moment.

He tried to think about anything else, but his mind had already begun forming images of Jean under the water, relaxing after the night she'd had. He thought of her red hair getting wet and gently clinging to her back, the steam filling the bathroom, and her finally being able to relax.

Peter squeezed his eyes shut.

"No. No!" He lightly smacked his forehead with one hand. "She's my friend!"

He walked a few steps around the room.

"She's my friend... A very pretty friend..." Peter groaned and closed his eyes again. "That doesn't help."

He tried to distract himself by checking his phone, but after a few seconds he involuntarily looked toward the bathroom door again. The sound of running water could be heard perfectly from there.

Peter swallowed.

"I'm 23," he murmured. "I'm an adult. I can control my thoughts... Supposedly."

He ran both hands over his face.

"Besides, she just had a horrible night. The last thing she needs is for me to be standing here thinking stupid things."

Peter took a deep breath and began organizing his clothes.

"Breakfast."

Folding a shirt.

"Food."

Looking for a pair of pants.

"Restaurant."

He picked up his shoes.

"Work."

He stopped.

"Spider-Man."

He nodded.

"Spiders."

Another silence.

"Webs."

Peter smiled slightly.

"This is working..."

For a few seconds, he managed to distract himself... Until he heard the shower running again.

Peter closed his eyes.

"Oh, come on..."

He shook his head and forced himself to concentrate on anything else. Jean was his friend. His friend. And if he ever wanted there to be something more between them, it would have to be something they both wanted and that happened at the right time, not something born from a difficult night, overwhelming emotions, or thoughts that Peter preferred to keep locked away in some corner of his brain.

Peter took a deep breath.

"Behave yourself, Parker." He looked at himself in the mirror. "You can do this."

Then he heard the water stop running.

Peter went completely still.

"Oh, shit."

He looked toward the bathroom door.

And, for the first time in his life, Peter Parker discovered that facing armed criminals, supervillains, and threats capable of destroying New York was considerably easier than waiting for the woman he was in love with to finish showering in his apartment.

About fifteen minutes later, Peter finally came out of his bedroom wearing dark jeans, a simple blue shirt, and his hair still slightly messy. Jean had already finished showering and had changed back into the clothes she had been wearing the night before, although her hair was now damp and pulled back behind her shoulders. Peter tried not to stare at her for too long, mainly because he had already had enough trouble that morning with his own thoughts.

"Ready?" Peter asked.

"Yes," Jean replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Although I still feel like I'm taking too much advantage of your hospitality."

Peter picked up the apartment keys.

"Jean, you've literally only stayed one night. If after that you want to charge me for using your shower, we can talk about it."

"I'm not going to charge you."

"Perfect. Then we're even."

Jean smiled.

"You're weird."

"I've been told."

The two of them left the apartment and walked a few blocks until they reached a small restaurant Peter had known for years. It wasn't particularly fancy, nor did it have anything that made it stand out from the other establishments in the area, but Peter assured her that they had some of the best breakfasts in all of New York. Jean didn't argue, especially since she hadn't eaten in hours and the smell coming from the kitchen was beginning to remind her just how hungry she was.

Once they were sitting across from each other at one of the tables by the window, they both ordered breakfast. Peter ordered pancakes with eggs and bacon, while Jean opted for scrambled eggs, toast, and fruit. For the first few minutes, they simply ate, enjoying a sense of peace that neither of them had had the night before.

"This is pretty good," Jean commented after trying some of the eggs.

"I told you."

"I thought you were exaggerating."

"I never exaggerate."

Jean raised an eyebrow.

"Peter, you're Spider-Man."

"That has nothing to do with it."

"Yesterday you told me that sleeping on your couch was perfectly comfortable."

Peter paused.

"Well... maybe I exaggerate a little."

Jean burst out laughing.

The conversation continued casually for several minutes. Jean talked about her previous day without going too deeply into the argument with Rogue, telling him about some of the more ordinary things that had happened at the mansion before everything got out of control. She mentioned an absurd conversation between Kurt and Bobby, something Hank had been researching, and an argument between Logan and Scott that, according to her, had probably started over something completely insignificant.

Peter listened as he cut another piece of pancake.

"So your day started relatively normally."

"Yeah."

"And it ended with me finding you climbing through my window at three in the morning."

Jean smiled.

"More or less."

"Definitely wasn't on my list of possibilities."

"What were you expecting?"

"I don't know. A burglar."

Jean stared at him.

"A burglar?"

"Yeah."

"And you would've reacted better to a burglar than to me?"

Peter thought for a moment.

"Depends."

"On what?"

"Whether the burglar brought mint tea."

Jean laughed.

"Idiot."

Peter smiled.

"But it worked."

Jean lowered her gaze slightly.

"Yeah."

Peter noticed the change in her expression, but decided not to press the matter. Instead, he began talking about his own previous day, although his version of a "normal day" turned out to be considerably more absurd.

"Actually, before I got home, I had an argument with DeWolff."

Jean looked up.

"Why?"

"Because of some criminals we caught."

"What was special about them?"

"DeWolff thinks they work for Tombstone."

Jean frowned.

"And you don't?"

"I'm not sure." Peter took another bite. "She says one of them mentioned an operation involving smuggling, and that points directly to Tombstone. I told her New York has enough criminals that not everything has to end up being the same guy's fault."

"That makes sense."

"Thank you!" Peter pointed at her with his fork. "That's exactly what I told her."

Jean smiled.

"And what did she say?"

"That I was being naive."

"And what did you say?"

Peter paused.

"That she was being too paranoid."

Jean's eyes widened slightly.

"You said that to DeWolff?"

"Yeah."

"And you survived?"

"Barely."

Jean began to laugh.

"What did she do?"

"She told me that if I wanted to keep working with her, I should stop acting like a detective from some cheap TV show."

"That sounds like her."

"Yeah." Peter took a sip of his drink. "Although I can't complain too much. The night before, I had to fight a Russian trapped inside a rhinoceros suit."

Jean slowly set her fork down on the plate.

"What?"

"A Russian in a rhinoceros suit."

Jean stared at him, and Peter shrugged.

"Believe me, my life doesn't make much sense either."

"And why was he wearing a rhinoceros suit?"

"Because it was a rhinoceros suit."

"Peter."

"I don't know what you want me to tell you."

Jean began laughing again.

"And how did that end?"

"I ended up webbing him to a wall."

"And you didn't wonder how someone came to the conclusion that a rhinoceros suit was a good idea?"

Peter shook his head.

"After eight years as Spider-Man, I stopped asking those kinds of questions."

"I think I would too."

The conversation continued like that for quite a while. They talked about absurd things, cases, the X-Men, some of Peter's inventions, and little anecdotes that normally wouldn't have mattered, but for some reason made both of them smile. Jean discovered that Peter could talk for ten minutes straight about a piece of technology that no one else would understand, while Peter discovered that Jean had a surprising number of embarrassing stories about her teammates.

For a moment, neither of them thought about the argument. Neither thought about Rogue, neither thought about the mansion; they were simply Peter and Jean having breakfast together.

Until the conversation began to fall silent.

Jean slowly set her fork down on the plate, and Peter looked at her.

"What's wrong?"

Jean took a few seconds to answer.

"I've been thinking about what you told me at your apartment."

Peter set his fork down as well.

"About what?"

"About not having to solve everything today."

Peter nodded.

Jean took a deep breath.

"I don't want to go back yet."

Peter said nothing.

"I know I should talk to them," Jean continued. "I know they're probably worried, and that I can't just disappear every time someone says something that hurts me. But... after what happened yesterday, I don't feel ready to face Rogue again."

She looked toward the window.

"Or the others."

Peter remained attentive to her.

"I need time to think."

"Then take it."

Jean looked at him again.

"Just like that?"

"Yeah."

"You're not going to tell me I should go back?"

"No." Peter shook his head. "You can decide when you want to talk to them. I'm not going to force you."

Jean smiled faintly.

"Thank you."

There was a brief silence.

Then Jean took a deep breath.

"Could I...?" She stopped, and Peter waited patiently. "Could I stay with you for one more day?"

"Yes."

The answer came from Peter so quickly that even he was surprised. Jean blinked, and so did he.

"I mean..." Peter cleared his throat and looked away. "Yeah, of course you can. If you want. I mean, I don't want to say that you have to or that I'm expecting you to stay or that... well, obviously you can stay if you want because it's your decision and..."

Jean began to smile.

Peter kept talking.

"...and I don't want you to think I'm saying yes too quickly because that could sound weird, and it's not weird because we're friends and I—"

Jean took his hand, and Peter immediately fell completely silent. Jean's hand was resting on his. Soft and warm. And for a moment, Peter completely forgot what he had been saying.

Jean smiled.

"I do." Jean gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "I want to stay with you for one more day."

It took Peter a few seconds to react, and then he smiled, a genuine smile.

"I'm glad."

His fingers closed around hers, and he returned the gentle squeeze. Jean felt her heart give a little jump, and so did Peter.

Neither of them let go immediately. They simply remained sitting there, holding hands across the table while the rest of the restaurant continued with its routine. Eventually, Jean picked up her fork again, Peter did the same, and they continued eating. For a few minutes, neither of them said anything.

Until Jean looked up.

"Peter."

"Yeah?"

"I have a request."

Peter looked at her curiously.

"What request?"

Jean fidgeted slightly with her fork.

"In a few hours, once the food has settled..."

Peter stopped cutting his pancake.

"Yeah?"

Jean smiled.

"I want you to take me swinging through the city."

Peter froze. The piece of pancake he had just cut remained suspended halfway between the plate and his mouth.

Jean watched him with an increasingly amused smile.

"Like Spider-Man."

Peter slowly lowered his fork.

"...What?"

Two hours later, past noon, Peter and Jean were standing on top of a building, with Jean gazing out at the city with her arms crossed.

"I still don't really understand what made you want to swing through the city with me," Peter said as he appeared beside her.

He was wearing his Spider-Man suit, and his mask was halfway on his head, leaving his face exposed for the moment as he looked at Jean.

Jean took a breath and smiled, then looked at Peter. Ever since discovering the body he hid beneath his clothes, she had suddenly become very conscious of it, and for the first time, she noticed that his suit was tight enough to show that the muscles weren't just an illusion created by the suit.

Feeling her mind wandering into places it shouldn't and her face growing warm, Jean looked away and cleared her throat.

"I've always wanted to know what it feels like when you swing between buildings," she admitted. "Maybe it sounds weird, but it looks... fun."

Peter looked at her for a moment longer than he should have, as if making sure he had heard her correctly. When he realized she wasn't joking, he laughed.

"Wow. And here I thought you just wanted to spend more time with me," he said in a mock-hurt tone.

Jean looked at him and raised an eyebrow, though she couldn't help giving him a slightly teasing smile.

"Aww, did you feel special?" she said sarcastically before laughing. "You really are just a simple spider."

Peter looked at her when he heard her say that. Maybe before, hearing those words would have hurt them both. However, over time, they had learned to laugh about it.

"The last time you said that to me, MJ almost died, remember?"

"It was true then, and it still is." Jean smiled smugly.

Peter smiled involuntarily and felt his heart do a stupid little flip, his cheeks growing slightly warm. So, trying to hide the effect she had on him, Peter properly pulled his mask over his face, the lenses narrowing as he looked out over the city before widening again when he looked at Jean.

"Okay. So you just want me to take you swinging around, with no particular destination?"

Jean nodded as she moved a little closer to the edge of the building, though she didn't get too close. From that height, a huge portion of Manhattan stretched out before them, with the buildings covering the horizon and vehicles moving through the streets like tiny patches of color. The wind blew through her red hair, forcing her to hold it down with one hand as she admired the view with a smile Peter hadn't seen during all the time they had been together.

"No particular destination," Jean confirmed. "I want to know what it feels like to simply... go."

Peter tilted his head slightly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Because the first time can be pretty intense."

Jean looked at him.

"Peter, I can throw a car with my mind."

"Right."

"I can also read your mind."

Peter froze.

"That last part doesn't reassure me as much as you think it does."

Jean burst out laughing.

"I'm not going to read it."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Peter extended a hand toward her.

"Then come here."

Jean looked at his hand for a moment before taking it. Peter closed his fingers around hers and pulled her closer until she was standing in front of him, calmly explaining where she should place her arms and how she should hold on once they started moving.

"When we jump, don't try to anticipate me," Peter explained. "Let me do the work. If you feel like we're going too fast, tell me."

"What if I get scared?"

Peter smiled behind his mask.

"Then hug me tighter."

Jean raised an eyebrow.

"Is that part of Spider-Man's official procedure?"

"Absolutely."

"Are you sure?"

"Completely."

Jean smiled.

"Then I guess I'll have to obey."

Peter moved toward the edge of the building and placed one hand on Jean's waist to steady her. She immediately felt the contact and had to make a conscious effort not to focus too much on how firmly he was holding her, or on how defined his arm was and how she could feel all of it against her back.

"Ready?"

Jean looked down. The street was very far below.

"No."

Peter let out a small laugh.

"Perfect."

Before Jean could respond, Peter jumped. Jean's stomach practically remained behind on the building.

"PETER!"

Her scream came out mixed with surprise and laughter as they descended for a few seconds. Peter extended his arm and shot a web that latched onto a nearby structure, and an instant later, the pull sent them soaring upward again.

Jean tightened her arms around him purely on instinct.

"Oh my God!"

Peter burst out laughing.

"I told you to hug me!"

"I didn't think you were going to jump that fast!"

"I'm Spider-Man!"

"That doesn't mean you have to be an idiot!"

Peter laughed again.

The sensation changed completely when they began swinging between the buildings. The wind hit Jean's face, her hair streamed behind her, and the streets seemed to grow farther and farther away as Peter fired one web after another.

Jean opened her eyes. And smiled.

"This is incredible!"

Peter turned his head slightly.

"What?!"

"I said this is incredible!"

"I can't hear you!"

"THIS IS INCREDIBLE!"

Peter grinned beneath his mask.

"That I heard!"

Jean burst out laughing as Peter swung from one building to another. Every movement was different from the last: sometimes they descended rapidly, other times they rose above the height of the nearby buildings, and on other occasions Peter used the walls to propel himself and change direction.

Jean had imagined many times what it would be like to see New York from that perspective. She had never imagined it would be like this.

"Faster!" she suddenly shouted.

Peter turned his head.

"What?"

"Faster!"

"Are you sure?!"

"Yes!"

Peter smiled.

"As you wish!"

He fired two webs in quick succession toward two different buildings and used the tension between them to propel himself forward. Jean felt her body separate slightly from his for a moment, but Peter held her firmly by the waist before they could drift too far apart.

"Peter!"

"I've got you!"

Jean wrapped her arms around him again, and this time it wasn't just because she was scared. It was exhilarating. It was liberating.

For a few minutes, Jean completely forgot about everything. There was no Rogue, no mansion, no judgment from the others, and no Roosevelt Island. There was only the wind, the city, and Peter.

Jean rested her head against his shoulder as they continued swinging.

"Peter... Thank you."

"For what?"

"For this."

Peter smiled.

"You don't have to thank me."

"Yes, I do."

"Then I'll accept the thanks."

Jean laughed.

Peter fired another web. They continued moving across the city. After several minutes, Peter began slowing down until he finally landed gently on the roof of another building. Jean took a few steps forward to regain her balance and burst out laughing.

"I think my legs stopped working."

Peter pulled his mask off until it was resting on top of his head again.

"It's always like that the first time."

Jean leaned against a small metal structure.

"Does it always feel like this when you go by yourself?" she asked as she caught her breath.

"Like what?"

"So... freeing." Jean smiled. "Like nothing else in the world matters more than the feeling."

Peter stared at her for a few seconds. The question seemed simple, but there was something about the way Jean had asked it that made him think before answering. Finally, a small smile appeared on his face as he looked toward the Manhattan skyline.

"Yeah," he replied. "Exactly like that."

Jean watched him in silence.

Peter walked over to the edge of the building and sat down, letting his legs dangle over the void. Jean walked over and sat beside him as well, though she kept a prudent distance from the edge. From there, they could see the buildings, the streets filled with vehicles, and people moving like tiny figures among them.

"When I started," Peter continued, "it didn't feel like that."

Jean turned her head toward him.

"No?"

"No. At first, I was scared. Really scared." Peter let out a small laugh. "The first time I jumped off a building convinced I could do it, I almost became a stain on the sidewalk."

Jean's eyes widened.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"How did you survive?"

"Emergency web."

Jean smiled.

"Of course."

"After that, I learned not to trust my sense of humor too much."

"Does that mean you trust it now?"

Peter looked at her.

"No."

Jean burst out laughing.

Peter smiled before looking back at the city.

"Over time, it changed. I stopped thinking about how far I could fall and started thinking about how far I could go. Every time I swung, I felt like I could get anywhere in New York within minutes. It was like..." He paused. "Like the city finally couldn't catch up with me."

Jean listened attentively.

"And now?"

Peter lowered his gaze slightly.

"Now it's different."

"Why?"

Peter shrugged.

"Because I know this city too well."

Jean waited.

"I know where robberies happen, where the gangs are, which buildings tend to have problems, which hospitals are closest to certain areas..." Peter paused. "When I see New York from up here, I don't just see a beautiful city anymore."

Jean immediately understood.

"You see everything you have to protect."

Peter nodded.

"Yeah."

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.

The wind passed between them, gently stirring Jean's hair.

"It must be exhausting."

Peter gave a crooked smile.

"Very."

"Then why do you keep doing it?"

Peter looked at her. The answer seemed so obvious to him that he didn't even have to think about it.

"Because I can."

Jean frowned slightly.

"Is that all?"

"No." Peter shook his head. "But it's an important part of it."

He turned toward her.

"I have powers. I can move faster than almost anyone, I can stop things that other people couldn't, and I can get to places where the police might take too long to arrive. If I can help and I don't... I don't know how I could live with myself. It's my responsibility."

Jean lowered her gaze. For some reason, those words felt all too familiar.

For a few seconds, they both remained sitting in silence, and then Jean smiled slightly.

"But you're not patrolling today. Today you're just taking a friend for a ride."

Peter smiled.

"Yeah, and I wouldn't change it for anything."

Jean looked at the city again.

"I'd like to stay here for a while."

"As long as you want."

Jean gently rested her shoulder against Peter's.

He remained still for a second, surprised by the contact, but then relaxed his shoulders and let her stay that way.

"Peter... I think I understand why you like it so much."

"The city?"

"This." Jean gestured around them. "Being up here. Away from everything."

Peter looked toward the horizon, letting her continue.

"Up here, no one is talking." Jean closed her eyes. "No one is telling me what I should feel, and no one is waiting for me to make a decision... Maybe that's why I wanted to do this."

Peter looked at her.

"Swing?"

"Yeah." Jean opened her eyes and smiled. "I guess I wanted to feel like I could go anywhere for a while."

Peter smiled.

"Then you picked the right tour guide."

Jean laughed.

"You're not a tour guide."

"Spider-Man Tours. First trip's free."

"First?"

"Future trips cost extra."

"How much?"

Peter pretended to think.

"One pizza."

Jean raised an eyebrow.

"One pizza?"

"A large one."

"You're a scam artist."

"I'm a businessman."

Jean laughed again.

And Peter smiled again. That laugh was different from the ones he had heard from her over the past few days. There was no nervousness, no sadness hidden behind it, no weight of guilt. It was simply Jean laughing because she was happy.

Peter thought he could get used to seeing her like that... Maybe a little too much.

Jean, for her part, stared at Peter's profile. The wind moved his brown curls, and the sunlight partially illuminated his face. For the first time since she had arrived in New York, she felt like she could breathe without having to think about everything that had happened.

She wasn't sure how much time she would need before returning to the mansion. She didn't know what would happen when she had to face Rogue again. She didn't know if things with the others would ever go back to the way they were.

But none of that mattered right now.

She had a day. Just one day. And she was spending it with the person who had managed to make her feel like she still belonged somewhere.

Jean rested her head against Peter's shoulder again.

"Can we do it again?"

Peter turned his head.

"Now?"

"Yeah."

Peter smiled.

"I thought you were tired."

"I am tired."

"Then..."

Jean looked up at him.

"But I want to do it again."

Peter let out a small laugh.

"All right."

He stood up and offered her a hand. Jean took it. Peter gently pulled her up to help her stand.

"This time we'll go a little farther."

"Where?"

"I have no idea."

Jean smiled.

"Perfect."

Peter put his mask back on.

"Then hold on."

Jean wrapped both arms around his waist.

"Ready."

Peter shot a web toward the building across from them, then jumped. And once again, the two of them disappeared among the buildings of New York.

This time, Jean didn't scream. This time, she simply laughed.