Chapter Text
Peter woke up to his familiar ceiling. He rolled on his side, feeling different, and tried to remember what happened yesterday that made it so…
Oh. This was the second day back from the hospital.
He could still feel the wound from the bullet he took for Jean. The doctor (and detective DeWolff) advised him to take it easy for a week or two to recover. Sound advice, but his body was really the deciding factor for that. The sore in his back hurt.
It ached at him as he leaned up and out of the bed, rubbing his face as he made his way to what he generously called his living room. He glanced at the clock, saw it reading 10am, then sighed as he realized he slept in far later than he-
His spider senses were tingling.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end as this roused him from sleepiness. His eyes darted to the corners of the room, seeking any hidden assassins or weapons that-
-was that coffee?
He looked directly into the kitchen to see a mug with steam curling out of it, his coffeemaker still plugged in behind it. Something else was sitting on-
Loud slurping snapped his attention to the other side of the room where Jean Grey was sitting on his couch. She was looking at him from over the rim of his favorite mug in her hands, blue eyes illuminated by the light from the windows just across from her as she stared at him.
She lowered the mug to reveal her face. Her hair was unbound and draped around her cheeks.
For a few seconds they stared at one another. This was the first time they had been together since Peter lay beneath her hands, dying.
Finally Jean parted her lips, and her voice cracked as she said, “Hi Peter.”
Housewarming
Norsehound
“Jean…” Peter said as reality set in along with the knowledge he was only wearing sweatpants. “Uh… hi!... uhh….” He stepped over to his computer chair where he had thrown his shirt the night before. “What.. uh, what are you doing here?”
Jean’s eyes went from his naked abs to his face before she answered, “Um… I heard you were discharged from the hospital! So I…. came to see you!” Her sweet tone sounded artificial to Peter. Maybe a little desperate too.
The shirt slid down his frame, and he worked it into position as he thought of what he wanted to say to that. “Well uh… th-thanks for dropping in! I uh, I just… I thought you left the city.”
The pleasant mask about her slipped a little as she made her answer. “I changed my mind…” she raised the coffee cup for another sip.
Now concerned, Peter came to the couch to sit beside her. She lowered the cup and stared ahead for a few seconds before looking at him. The facade was already gone.
Jean realized they were sitting in the same places they had in the vision. Just before Peter took the bullet. She needed a moment before saying, “I think… I need a friend right now. I think I’m losing control of my powers.”
Peter remembered what she was capable of at Roosevelt island. He straightened a little, then asked, “What’s wrong, what’s happening?”
She shifted her fingers around her mug as she looked at the floor, saying, “I think it's doing things without me wanting to.” She shrugged a little, “Popping light bulbs when I’m mad, turning pages… moving things…” She looked at him, “If I can’t get a handle on this… if it gets bigger and out of control…. it’s going to be impossible to hide from Damage control. Or anybody.”
Peter nodded. “So you need to crash here to figure it out.”
“Please?” She asked, her expression was pleading. “I swear I won’t take up much room….”
“Nono, it’s fine. Anything!” Peter replied. When she still looked doubtful- and worried- Peter went on; “Hey, I told you, you have me. I mean it. Stay here as long as you like and we’ll figure this out, okay?”
“Okay…” She said shakily, finally exhaling and looking at her hands, “Okay.”
Peter smiled at her, then said with a laugh, “I mean, it doesn’t look like much, but at least I got central air and wifi.”
Jean looked at him and couldn't resist spitting out a laugh before smiling with him. Wiping her face she said, “Thank you.”
“No problem,” he said, then looked over at his kitchen, “So you made coffee?”
“Uh, yeah….” she said, hauling her legs up on the couch. “I got something for you too…” She added before her mug covered her mouth again.
Peter got up and walked to the corner of his apartment he had called his kitchen, then he slowed down.
A plastic case of Hazelnut muffins from Trader Joe's was sitting in front of his coffee.
A chill ran up his spine. Peter wasn't religious… at least, not much, but May had been. What did it mean that her favorite snack found its way into his apartment when Jean had arrived?
He had seen stranger things in his life. He couldn’t entirely dismiss this being a coincidence. His hands closed around the plastic box as he thought of his aunt.
Jean needed him. The conversation that started in Peter’s mind, of doing life alone, being an impossible task, Jean needing someone, had not ended. It only paused until Peter could return home. Now he needed to continue helping her.
Peter opened the plastic box with a pop.
For the first time since she woke up to V/Max, Jean Grey had the space to think about something other than vengeance. Sarah was still gone, though.
Even though Jean discovered what happened and Peter helped her accept it, she still had a lot of emotions to work through about it. It was one of the many things she was supposed to do when she got clear before her powers went haywire. While it wasn't actually as dramatic as she made it out to Peter, she was still worried enough about it to want to turn to someone. Since Peter offered his company…
It didn’t help that she couldn’t stop thinking about him, either. Even after ending the mental connection and traveling away she found she was dwelling on him too much to simply slip away. It got worse the further she traveled away from New York, like she was making a mistake. Her powers malfunctioning was the excuse she needed to return to him, bypassing her guilt and complicated feelings about him. Two birds, one stone.
Almost as if on cue to her thinking Peter returned to the couch with two plates with muffins on them: One in his hand and the other balanced in his coffee mug. He handed the free one to Jean and she took it, saying, “Thank you.”
He resumed his seat beside her. He didn't say anything at first, just sipped his coffee. Jean decided to prompt him by asking, “Did it come out okay?”
“Mmm? Yeah, it's great." Peter replied. He was normally particular about his coffee mix- two scoops of sugar and a whisper of cream. Whatever Jean did, it actually let him taste the coffee this time.
Peter nodded at the muffin, "How did you…”
She wondered what he was talking about until she followed his gaze. “Oh! I uh… just thought you'd want something like that.”
Peter considered the muffin, then said, “Uh… I was blipped, by the way. May was too.” Peter looked at her, “When we came back someone was squatting in our apartment. After May threw out guys' food we took an emergency trip to Trader Joe's to get these. She ate them as soon as we got back… It was one way you could tell if she was really mad and didn’t want to be.”
Jean smiled. “Your aunt ate snacks when she was mad?”
“Believe it or not.”
“Sara was that way too.” Jean replied.
Peter didn’t miss the first detail Jean shared about her sister. He nodded. “Well, whenever either of us were having something stressful we were dealing with, we ended up getting some of these. Afterward, things usually worked themselves out, so it was kind of a good luck thing.”
Jean looked from Peter to the muffin on her plate. She took a breath before saying, “Sara’s favorite was salted pretzels. The bigger the better. Carnival ones. I remember a time we were at Six Flags and she reeeely wanted to do Flashback. She was obsessed with fast rides but all that day that one was closed for one stupid reason or another. She didn’t eat anything but those damn salted pretzels.”
Peter found himself laughing. “May never had a day that bad.”
Jean went on, “The only time I remember it being that bad was that day. Whenever I could tell she was mad I would get one for her. I would never give her shit for it because I knew it helped.”
Peter nodded, thought about it, then said, “There was only one time I got muffins for May without her knowing.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. It was…” He hesitated, then shrugged and went on, “It was after Mysterio revealed my identity. May was having trouble finding work after she lost the salvation army. She never said anything to me, but I knew what was going on. So I brought them home one night, put them in the fridge, then didn’t say anything when I went to bed. The next morning two of them were already gone.”
Jean looked back at the muffin as Peter started to eat his. She asked, “If you don’t mind me asking… how did she die?”
Peter took a moment to finish his muffin, nodded to himself, then said, “I couldn’t protect her. She was hurt in… one of my fights. One of the hardest ones. Someone we tried to help turned on us. She tried standing up to him and paid for it. The worst part is… I tried to get help, but the police started shooting at me instead because people believed I was the menace. I couldn’t help her because people knew Peter Parker was a threat, and that I was Spiderman.”
Peter was looking away from her now, agitated. Jean said, “That’s why you had to erase Peter Parker.”
“I didn’t want that to happen to MJ, or Ned.” Peter replied. He shrugged, “What else could I do?”
“You didn’t try to clear your name?” Jean replied, “Convince people this Mysterio was a liar?”
“The criminal charges were dropped, but people already made up their minds. Anything I said would have made it sound like excuses” Peter said. “You can convince one person, but how can you convince everyone? Anyway… that’s what brought me to Doctor Strange and… you know the rest.”
Jean nodded, then said, “If it helps I didn’t know that part of it. Thank you for telling me.”
Peter smiled and said, “Thank you for telling me about your sister.”
Jean smiled back, then said, “I think you would have liked her too. I know she would have liked you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Jean replied, “It was hard for Sara to warm up to people, but you make it easy.”
Peter, flashing back to the vitriol and hatred he experienced after London, only shrugged and said, “Well, I try.”
The muffins were long gone and the coffee cups were empty by the time Peter realized they should have a proper meal and looked at the clock. “Uh, “Shouldn’t we get lunch?” It was 1:04pm. They had been talking the whole morning, trading stories about Sara and May.
Jean, reading his expression, glanced at the takeout boxes she saw the last time he was here. She looked at him. “You’re not going to ask me what kind of take-out I want, are you?”
That was precisely what Peter was standing up to do. “Uh, yeah, why?”
Jean considered telling him that she had been living on take out for two months, and if she had to force down another fast-cooked meal, she would choke.
Instead what she said was, “You don’t have anything in your kitchen.”
Peter glanced in that direction, thought for a second, then said, “Well, yeah. Usually I’m grabbing food… while I’m out.” he pointed his thumb at the window.
“And you’re always out. Because you’re Spiderman.”
“Yeah.”
Jean pulled her hair up, her sister’s scrunchie flashing on her wrist as she did. She was coming off the couch towards him. “Okay, I’m gonna make a deal with you.”
Peter, blindsided by this, asked, “Uh, what?”
She raised her hands to gesture as she spoke. “I’ll cook for you. Get some stuff from the store and real ingredients, and I’ll make sure you have food worth eating. No more of this greasy quick-fry stuff. Okay?”
He didn’t know how much her request would take out of his rather slim indie photographer budget that wasn’t already going to rent. “I could just go to the deli….”
“Oh my God,” Jean said, moving her face away with frustration before facing him again, “Peter, you have a kitchen you aren’t using.” She thumbed at herself, “And I just dropped in on you without asking. Get the stuff, I’ll do the work.”
“You don’t have to do that-”
“Jesus Christ!” Jean huffed in exasperation.
The couch suddenly rattled loudly as it moved an inch to the left. They both stared at it for a second, then they looked at one another. Jean went on, “Pleeeese let me make real food, I’ve been eating takeout for like two months now I need something actually made from a kitchen!”
“Okay! Okay,” Peter said, torn between concern of actually witnessing her powers spontaneously activate and how adorable she was being with that frustration. Plus, it was unusually pleasant to have someone so insistent to do something for his benefit. “Make up a list, I’ll go get them-”
Jean was already rummaging for a note card and a pen from the duffel bag she brought with her. Within seconds she had a scribbled list that she was thrusting at him. “This will make leftovers for days, I swear.”
Peter looked at the list. It had a lot of stuff. He looked at her and saw an expression of seriousness, earnestness and a bit of pleading in her eyes. He shook his head, smiling, and said, “I’ll be right back!”
After he went out the door Jean was alone in Peter Parker’s apartment. She huffed out the breath she had been holding.
As the elevator went down Peter had a moment to think about the fact that Jean Grey was in his apartment now. The Jean Grey that went on a rampage in New York City just last month was living with him, and needed help.
She was sick of takeout and wanted to cook for him.
The contrast is what threw him the most. He had seen her bitter and hostile, hurt and lonely, an opponent and obstacle to overcome. Now he saw her considerate, girlish, thoughtful, and needy. He couldn't have imagined seeing those sides of a person he fought bitterly last month…
The person who breathed for him.
He absently rubbed the front of his neck as he remembered the haze of the hospital. Once or twice, in between blackouts, he had felt someone's presence close beside him. Finding Frank across the room from him had been a surprise, because whoever it was had been sitting real close.
Like… on his chest close.
Something made him assume it was Jean, though he had no idea why at the time. That's why he needed to know if she was okay. He had been certain she was there. Turns out she was. In a way.
And she hadn’t left.
He didn’t know how he felt about this. He didn't mind her crashing his place… after all, he would have been living with Ned and MJ otherwise. What bothered him more was wondering if he could actually help Jean or not, risking her safety instead of having her go somewhere better suited to help her. He didn't know where that place was, but it had to be better than a dusty attic space that may or may not have exposure to asbestos.
At the same time he really couldn't deny the joy he felt at having company in his house. The Jean he met this morning was someone he could get along with. Though he was flippant about her offer to cook, he was interested. He hadn't enjoyed a home cooked meal since May died, and had he gone off to college with Ned and MJ, he didn’t want to push them into doing it.
Jean was also the only person who could possibly empathize with his lost past. Certainly more than anyone else in his circle could.
The grocery store wasn't far, and as he entered he looked at the list and tried to gauge if he needed a cart or handbasket. As he read it, his hand swung from the baskets to grab the handle of a cart, and he pushed it into the store. At least it was a weekday… fewer crowds.
It was easy to maintain anonymity in a city crowd. Everyone going about their day was more focused on just doing their tasks than paying attention to the people around them- especially if they had phones or kids. As he shopped Peter passed at least two people with spider paraphernalia. Another pair of kids were shooting mock webshooters at one another and various things as they passed. Someone was trying to argue whether Spiderman could lift a building or not.
All while the real Spiderman was walking among them.
He was examining the spices when he glanced down the row and saw MJ with her boyfriend rounding the corner and leaving the aisle.
His hand stopped partway up to grabbing what he needed when he saw them. He completed the motion, put the Italian seasoning in the basket before going down the aisle in discreet pursuit of them.
It took him a bit to find them, browsing by the wines and having a discussion too far away for Peter to hear. He tried to line himself up in a way where he could see them with it making it obvious..
MJ knew who he was now. Why was he doing this? Why was he hiding from her this time?
She laughed and nudged her boyfriend lightly, and in that motion Peter could see she was wearing the pendant he had given her from when they were in Italy…
His eyes went from the pendant to her face and for a second her head turned…
But then she focused on a wine in her vision and spoke to her boyfriend. The conversation shifted that way.
Peter left, returning to his assignment of finding ingredients for Jean. As he did, he was trying to make sense of what he had seen. He was able to find everything she had asked for, substituting the wooden spoon for a slotted plastic one, and said nothing as he was in the check out line and paid with cash.
Carrying the bag of groceries he looked around once more for MJ and nearly missed her across the street. She was still with her boyfriend at the bus stop, carrying whatever conversation they had in the store.
He stared for a moment, lingering on his view of them, before a bus roared into the stop and blocked them from his view.
It snapped Peter out of his funk. He started walking back to the apartment, processing what he had seen.
“I guess she stopped witholding…” he muttered to no one.
Jean came out of the bathroom wiping her hands on her sweater. Coming into the apartment she was spontaneously struck with how weird Peter’s apartment was.
Peter's dwelling was a specific kind of untidy. It wasn’t what she expected a man-cave to look like: mess and dishevelment scattered around like a toddler carelessly dropping toys on the floor. Nor did it look like things she saw on TV about hoarders: Tall stacks of random items and boxes reaching up the ceiling with piles in between. No, this was weird-messy in a scatterbrained way.
Peter didn’t have bookshelves. The closest thing to come to one was a bottom row of binders and textbooks on sciency stuff like organic tensile strengths and the densities of different metals. These were lined up on the bottom of one of his… racks of things.
He had other unmarked hardbacks of various kinds placed randomly in places across the apartment. Many of these, Jean checked, were old scifi classics or a book on some arcane subject or another (for instance, quantum physics at molecular scale, by H. Pym). As if that wasn’t enough to suggest he was a colossal nerd, Jean found no less than four Star Wars paperbacks in different corners of the room, two copies of the hobbit, and a beat up, and an ancient copy of Fellowship of the Ring.
There were other discards too, like a vintage microscope she was sure came from a university dumpster. Random computer parts in a stack beside the computer desk itself. Various electrical tools, a bundle of screwdrivers, jars of nuts and bolts. Overhead transparencies, three jars of markers, and box of twistie ties.
How much of this apartment, she wondered, was plundered?
Standing in the center of the room and slowly spinning around, she took in how improvised all of this was. Peter collected and placed things around this room haphazardly like it was all staged to demonstrate he had some kind of inner life, but it wasn't organized to prove it. It felt like a storage room, not a living space. Collected bits and pieces with no cohesive whole.
She told him once it was a parody of a 20 year old’s apartment. It was to mock him, telling him how false his life was from a place of judgement. Looking at it now as a friend of this Peter Parker, it was kind of… sad. And concerning.
Sara would have laughed at him, and at her. ‘This is the guy you’re falling for?’
Jean shook her head to dismiss the quip as she moved back to sit on the couch. She had some time to kill before Peter returned with ingredients to make a worthwhile lunch. She didn’t want to spend it dwelling on how she thought her sister would have mocked her interest in this quirky superhero.
Between the two of them Sara had been the only one to carry a relationship anywhere- even if it was just for a few months. She used that experience to comment on any romantic notion that came up between them. Jean was still pretty sure Sara would have liked Peter, but Sara wouldn’t have ever passed up a chance to needle Jean in a sisterly way whenever the chance came up.
Jean still heard her sister’s voice in her head now, assessing Peter in that kind of snarky tone she got when she was joking.
‘Jean, seriously? Can he even button his pants?’
Jean was about to refute that thought when it occurred to her Peter might not have button fasten pants. Why would he? He was comfortable at home and was Spiderman everywhere else.
Rather than rummage his apartment to confirm or deny this inconsequential thought, she was stuck with another. She said it aloud. “I have to help him.”
Maybe she didn't have to stop at cooking. Maybe he needed help living, too. And maybe that's something she could do for him in exchange for getting help with her powers.
Maybe from there she could find a better reason to stay close to him.
Thinking of Sara’s laugh made her stand up to go to the kitchen. If she was going to cook lunch here, it would need to be clean enough to do that. She was going to start with the oven, clean that and-
Peter had no oven.
She stopped and did a double take to confirm. There was no range built into the tops of the counters. No oven door on the cabinet sides. She looked on all the shelves and around- there was no microwave. No sink.
To her growing shock she realized his “kitchen” was nothing but a refrigerator that looked like it came from the 70s with only a closed-off compartment at the top to be the “Freezer”.
She ran her hands up through her hair out of disbelief. No wonder Peter never cooked for himself, there was nothing in here to do that with. Just- she checked- almost empty cabinets. A pantry with nothing.
Peter would return with the ingredients with nothing to prepare them with except one cooking pot left on the counter as if it got here before the range was supposed to.
In desperation she started rummaging in the drawers. To her relief she found a big white box labeled Mr Stove in a stylized orange font with the picture of a single-burner unit on the front. The box looked beat up, almost as if it had been used ages ago and repeatedly, then placed up here and forgotten about.
She pulled the box out of the drawer, opened the top, and pulled out a creaky metal contraption. The instructions were at least legible, but this being a gas unit trapped up here for God only knows how long made her hesitate.
If she tried to light it, would it set this “kitchen” on fire?
This was straight out of a comedy. Sara chuckled in her memory.
It just set Jean’s determination harder. Peter deserved better than this.
She found the paper towels earlier. Grabbing them she ripped off the plastic covering and tore into the sheets. In a moment she would take the cooking pot and fill it from the bathroom tap. She was going to get her spaghetti, damnit.
And she was going to share it with Peter.
Peter was still ruminating on seeing MJ with her boyfriend as he opened the door to his apartment and smelled gas. He was afraid of leaks since moving up here as he never forgot it really wasn't meant for longer habitation. Fearing the worst he asked, in panic. “Jean?!”
“Why are you shouting?” She replied from beside his refrigerator.
A stove unit was hissing softly on the countertop with a pot too big for it. Beneath that was a burn-resistant pad she must have found from his salvaged computer gear. Water was boiling.
Jean herself was leaning against the refrigerator, holding open Fellowship of the Ring in her hands with a fire extinguisher on the counter beside her. Her hair was up, and her blue eyes were looking at him as he came in.
He slowed and stopped beside the free-standing washer unit and stared at the scene. He hadn’t known the burner unit was in his apartment, and (as his eyes widened in surprise) he was surprised something so old was still working. Mouth agape he looked at her.
Jean had lowered the book, inwardly elated at his astonishment. She was proud of figuring out this problem and surprising him with her solution. For once, it wasn’t to violent ends. Something told her this was the right way to do things.
She asked him, “You bring the stuff?”
If the apartment was improvised, so was their meal.
Boiled the pasta. Strained the noodles in the bathroom sink through a towel (they both had to do this). Mixed all the ingredients in the pot with the spoon. Spices added, then put away by themselves in the cupboard. Peter had only one metal fork, another was salvaged from one of those plastic takeout packages that had been gathering dust from an earlier order. They argued over who deserved the metal fork. Jean lost, and Peter was roughing it with the plastic one that could break at any second.
Peter had no bowls. The pot sat between them on the couch and they took turns eating out of it. Mugs were on the floor with water to drink.
It was hot at first, but with a little stirring and blowing it was palatable.
It was the best Spaghetti Peter had tasted in years.
Jean read the surprise on Peter’s face and delighted in this, also. In spite of this stupid, mundane task of merely preparing a meal- and in spite of all the obstacles- this was worth it. She had returned Peter’s body to him, but now she had given the boy she didn’t deserve a little life, too.
“This is good.” He muttered before grabbing another fork-full.
“Told ya.” Jean said with a mischievous grin. He nodded at her with a grin. She looked at him, his joy of eating, and then opened her mouth to say, “This is a recipe my sister and I shared when we were on our own.”
“Really?” He asked between bites.
She nodded. “We called it crash-getti. Pot, water, noodles, things. Sara invented it one night with whatever we had in the kitchen, just because we didn't want to do takeout.”
Peter looked into the pot and, for a moment, wondered what kinds of things he, Ned, and MJ would have come up with in the same situation. A whole life to build together that he wasn't there for. He looked up.
Jean was pulling noodles off her fork with her teeth, looking away absently. She swallowed, looked at him, smiled and said, “You don't have any cling wrap do you?”
There wasn't competition for space as the plastic-wrapped pot slid into the bottom shelf of the fridge. Jean instructed Peter to throw away the pizza box that had been there rather than dwell on whether five day old pizza was still good to eat.
As Peter closed the fridge, Jean was leaning against the counter and said, "I'm just glad that dinky burner didn't start a fire.”
Peter, remembering the asbestos quip, glanced at the ceiling as he replied, “Yeah…” looking around he added, “Guess this place isn't really cut out for cooking, is it?”
Forced to confront that reality she sighed. “It's not… but… I'll make it work.”
“You will?”
“Yeah. I said I was going to cook for you.”
Peter started to shake his head but Jean, arms crossed, emphasized her rebuttal: “I. Will cook. For you.”
Peter laughed and waved it off with a hand, “Okay, okay.”
Nodding as if to say ‘Damn straight’, she felt she needed to get to business. “Okay. How do we figure out what's going on inside my head?”
They were at Peter's computer minutes later. Jean resumed a seat on the couch.
As Peter dove into his work she watched him. He was complicated, this Peter. She had seen him be an opponent, a hero, a hopeless nerd, and now she was watching him be smart. He moved fluidly between tasks, chasing some train or thought or another but quick with his fingers and tools. She couldn't understand his jargon or read what was flying by on the monitors, but she found herself drawn in by his practice.
Sara would still be ridiculing him for taking interest in such a reedy nerd, but Jean was sure Sara wouldn't have understood. Sara's lone boyfriend was a tall smoky hunk that you typically saw in commercials- something she delighted needling her sister about. Jean hadn't found anyone worth pursuing but turned down plenty of offers from people who just didn't excite her. At least, when she was able to get them.
As she watched Peter it was becoming easier to see why she wanted to be close to him. She had been drawn in by his power to oppose her, touched by his empathy and willingness to open up to her, and now enjoyed watching him work and his face light up when she fed him. She was falling for him.
Peter interrupted her thinking by rolling the desk chair over. “Okay, we need to start with a cerebral scan.” He was holding something between his fingers that looked like what the inhibitor felt like under her fingers.
She had to remember what he said to clue herself back in. “A cerebro scan?”
“No, sa-re-bral,” he sounded out and nodded. “Your brain. We need to scan your brain activity.”
Jean straightened in her seat upon the couch. “This isn't going to hurt is it?”
“Nonono,” Peter dismissed as he waved the device, “this is passive, not active. It records what it detects, it doesn't broadcast anything.”
“Oh.” Jean answered as Peter rolled his chair towards her. Jean, sitting still as he did this, asked just before he was about to place it on her forehead:, “What are you doing?”
He pulled back. “Placing the sensor?”
“On my forehead? You want to put that right here?” she pointed.
“That's what I was going to do, yeah.”
“Does it have to be there?” Jean had been forced to wear a pair of gag sunglasses for a stupid costume when she was younger that had a plastic detail that chafed against her face. She was done with putting things there for the rest of her life.
Peter hesitated, then said, “Yeah, if you want this to work.”
Jean tried to think of any alternatives, but the look he was giving her convinced her to give in and put the stupid thing on. “Ugh, fine.”
Peter pressed on and placed the sensor on her forehead. It stuck with some kind of adhesive, Jean was incredibly aware it was there, and Peter wheeled back to his computer and started operating it. “E.V. start recording.”
“Of course Peter.” The AI responded.
After a pause where Peter just stared at his screens for a minute, Jean asked, “So… what happens now?”
“Well uh, now EV will map your brain activity. For a few hours.”
“Hours?!” Jean blasted.
A book slid and fell off a shelf. Peter's computer bleeped with a significant reading detected. Both of them looked from the first, to the second, then at each other.
Peter said, “I don't have the equipment for a more sensitive scan- this is what I gotta do. It might take even take days to get an understanding of why your brain works the way it does, because the system has to watch it working for a long time to gather info.”
Jean thought over her options. Wearing this for days was a repulsive thought, but it would mean staying with Peter longer. And she trusted him more than anyone on the planet to have her best interests at heart, which she needed if her powers were as out of control as they could become.
She leaned her legs forward to slide them up and rest her heels on the edge of the couch, hand going up to the forehead sensor while she said, “This is so annoying…”
“Sorry…” Peter said, turning back to his computer to look at the data coming in.
They held like that for a few minutes, Jean absently touching the stupid sensor she couldn’t stop feeling against her forehead, and Peter examining more data coming through his monitors. Absently he switched over to the crime board and got sucked into monitoring city traffic.
Jean lowered her hand, looked at him, then decided to ask, “How's your back, Peter?”
Peter's attention suddenly went to that. “Uh-” he raised his right arm to push off from the chair and and his back seized up. He hissed through his teeth, “Ow-?” swinging around to her he said, “I'll be fine… in a few days… I think?”
Jean hugged her legs as she watched him. She tried to think of things to say to carry on small talk- at least to distract her from the sensor- but in a moment of quiet she came back to the two things she needed to say to him. She didn't want to.
Before she really let herself get comfortable with Peter though, she has to tell him. He deserved it after how much he gave for her, and still was.
Jean finally said, “Thank you, by the way.”
That made Peter turn away from the computer again and look at her. “Yeah, of course. I wasn't going to let you take that, it would have killed you.”
“I meant coming for me. On Roosevelt.”
“It was my fault you were there in the first place, the least I could do was try to fix my mistake.” When she didn’t respond he went on, “What Metzger and damage control did wasn’t okay. I didn’t know.”
After another pause to struggle over saying the even harder thing. “I was terrible to you. I'm sorry.”
“We were fighting.”
“Finding your letter… MJ… that was shitty.”
Peter didn't respond immediately as he thought about it, nodded, and said as he looked at her, “That was messed up…” he looked at Jean as she tilted her head forward to rest against the back of her pulled up knees. That made him reconsider what he was going to say.
He thought back to that moment and the elation of believing he had his MJ back. Then her voice coldly delivered Jean’s mocking tone, impressing upon him the depth of his powerlessness.
It was so nightmarishly surreal it felt tailor made to hurt him… it had. Desperation had driven him to stop Jean as fast as possible to prevent that from happening again, and to get back at her for doing that to him and MJ.
But everything that came after that moment, from the heart to heart with this new MJ to the revelations leading to Jean’s identity, had been worth it.
“Things happen, you know?” Peter said. He shook his head as he tried to find more words to describe what he was feeling. He found them. “I’ve been so desperate before that I’ve traded away my own identity away to keep my friends safe.” He laughed once. “I’m still not sure it was worth it.”
Looking at her collapsed, defensive posture on his couch he went on, “When we’re at the end of our rope, sometimes we’ll do anything to make it better. If you don’t have anyone to stop you, it could look pretty terrible on the outside, even if you want nothing else but to make someone hurt for what they did to you.”
The face of alternate Peter flashed into his memory, holding up that glider. May wouldn’t have wanted Peter to find vengeance, but he nearly had.
Just as Jean pulled out all the stops for her sister.
Peter said, “I told you how my aunt died, earlier. Did I tell you I almost killed the man who killed her?”
That brought up Jean’s face. Her eyes were wet as she looked at him over her knees. “No.”
“I had every intention to. I wasn’t thinking about how May wouldn't want that, or how my friends would see me. All I was thinking about was how much I was hurting, how much I wanted to stop him from hurting others, and how much I wanted to do something about it.” He nodded. “Someone had to stop me. I don’t know where I’d be now if they hadn’t. I don’t know how I would have lived with myself.”
Jean sniffed. “I was going to rip Metzger’s fucking brain out of his skull if you didn’t come in. And I would have enjoyed it.”
“Yeah, I bet you would. Some might say he had it coming.” As Jean wiped her eyes, Peter went on, “But once you cross that line it’s not possible to go back. Even if it doesn’t hit you right then, it’ll catch up with you, and for the rest of your life you have to decide how to live with yourself. I learned about that from other things.”
Jean sniffed again and placed her head back against her knees. Peter said, “Once I learned what happened to you and your sister, I knew you weren’t a killer. You should probably apologize to MJ, but I forgive you.”
Jean sighed out a breath she didn't know she was holding. She started to sob in spite of trying to keep it in. She didn't even clearly understand why this was hitting her, perhaps it was relief.
Peter moved off his chair to comfort her before he even decided if it was a good idea. He waited there, in reach, as she tried to collect herself.
Finally she raised her head again. The sentiment of the moment was obliterated by the sensor on her forehead.
It only occurred to Peter then how uncomfortable that might be. “Uh, is that bothering you? Do you need something more-?”
“YES.” Jean’s loud deadpan delivery cut through her remaining sadness with all the power of her irritation.
“Okay, sorry,” Peter said as he flew off the couch again to his seat and started designing a new sensor node immediately.
Jean rubbed her face as she watched him working and sighed with the enormous weight of his judgement off her shoulders. The next thing she needed to do would be more difficult, though.
Since it mattered to Peter, she would need to apologize to MJ.
Much later Peter presented Jean with a couple of sensors after they had cooled. They were small tear-shaped devices with hairclips built into the flat bases with a curve to hug her skull. She held them while she stood next to him while he sat in his desk chair.
Jean stared at the conical sensors in her hand as she thought of where to put them. Peter said to her hesitance, “They'll work as long as they're against your head, so-”
She freed her hair from the ponytail. After slipping her sister’s scrunchie back on her wrist, she pinned one lock of hair to the back of her head with one of the nodes, then repeated the maneuver with the other side. The triangular slips sat at the back of her head like small horns at the back of her crown. Her bangs were free.
Peter watched in quiet astonishment. Catching him looking at her, she asked indignantly, “What?” It only made the image he was seeing even more stark.
Shaking his head as he smiled he asked, “Do you watch anime?”
She wondered where this was going. “Like Pokemon?”
“Ever hear of Evangelion?”
“No.” Her brows furrowed, continuing her resemblance to a character from that show.
Still smiling Peter said, “Maybe I’ll show it to you sometime- it’s weird.”
Jean took a beat to think, then decided to ask, “Why not now?”
“Uhh…” Peter hadn’t considered that. He was leaving the day free for…. Well…. “Um…” He turned to his desk.
“Are you busy?” She asked him.
Peter had been designing the new sensors and then… browsing alert networks and criminal notifications. Spiderman stuff. He had been wondering why E.V. was acting a little slow- the model of Jean’s brain was still being made. “Um…” He wheeled in his chair to look across the room at his weight set. He did need to work out. His back still hurt. “I… don’t…. uh…”
Jean put her hands on her hips with an annoyed, but expectant look on her face. It didn’t help Peter’s disorientation- if he didn’t know better he’d say he was staring at a spot-on casual cosplay of Asuka Langley.
He shook his head to clear his thinking and said, “Well, I would do Spiderman stuff but… my back…” He started to stand.
The move emphasized their height difference. Peter was taller than she was by a few inches- an inversion to how MJ stood over him by the same amount..
Jean blinked as she looked up at him. “So… where’s your TV?”
“Oh, okay.” Jean said later as Asuka and her hairstyle appeared in Episode 9. The character was standing on the flight deck of the carrier the main characters were visiting. Jean watched her while sitting on the corner of his bed. Peter was laying down beside her, propped up on his arm where he had been answering her questions about various parts of the show.
Now he was agreeing with a statement she made an hour ago: they should have had popcorn.
Jean said, “Now I know where my sister got this look from.”
"Her hair?”
“Yeah.” She watched for a moment more, then changed subjects, “This is a weird show.”
“Yeah.”
“I thought Shinji was gonna get with the blue haired chick… what's her name…?”
“Rei.”
“Yeah Rei. Then this girl comes along and she's doing… that-”
They hit the scene where protagonist Shinji, a normal fourteen year old Japanese high school boy, was now clad in the same red feminine form-fitting jumpsuit worn by the model for Jean's current hairstyle.
They watched as the the two of them argued in the cockpit of one of the shows giant robots.
Spontaneously Jean said, “She's got such a crush on him.”
“Yeah?”
“Well yeah, stuffing him in her suit, dragging him into her robot, yeah. It's obvious.”
Peter stared at the screen. “Well… she does stuff later. It's obvious now?”
“Why do you think she was doing stuff like this?”
“I thought she was just messing with him and showing off.”
Jean cast a glance over her shoulder at him with a smiling but incredulous look. Peter, confused, asked, “What?”
Still smiling, Jean shifted her posture to face him. “So did MJ have a crush on you first, or did you crush first?”
Rather than get swept up in where MJ was now, Peter tried to answer the question. “I… uh…. Well, we were friends for a while-”
“...Uh-huh.”
“She knew I was Spiderman before I told her, actually.”
“Really! Why do you think that is?”
“I… She’s smart? I mean, I tried to be sneaky but-”
Jean leaned closer. "If she was staring at you the whole time she probably noticed when you'd ditch school to be spiderman.”
“Why would she be….” Peter stopped as he was lost in thought, then looked at Jean as he made the connection.
Jean, smiling at him, said, "Spider sense can't help you figure that out, can it?” She turned her head back to the show, shifting her seat on the bed to look at the TV better as her hips leaned against his legs.
Peter, thrown for a loop again, now had something new to think about. MJ had been crushing on him longer than he thought? She never admitted that to him. She wouldn't be the kind to admit it to him, either. That’s who she… had been. Peter would have had to work to get anything out of MJ if she didn’t volunteer it to him.
As he thought about it, it was one of the issues he worried about with her and wanted to hash out later. He never got the chance before things blew up with Doctor Strange.
On the show he was watching with Jean, a massive underwater explosion breached the surface, flinging water into the air. After a comedic air-whistle the red robot, piloted by both characters, landed on the carrier deck before collapsing upon it.
They turned off the show after episode twelve to start getting ready for dinner. After Jean prodded Peter that he needed to get a microwave, they attempted to heat up the spaghetti leftovers on the burner.
Both of them stared at the effort in Peter's “kitchen.” He was holding the clean silverware while Jean was stirring the pot, trying to get it hot enough to re-heat the leftovers. With a deadpan face and pleading eyes she slowly turned to look at him, highlighting how pathetic this exercise was.
He sighed, held up a hand, then said, “Okay, I’ll find a microwave tomorrow.”
“Do you want me to tell you other things you should get?”
“No.” He said, annoyed. She still stares at him with that look in her eyes as she stirred. The spoon grated loudly against the bowl.
He sighed. “Yes.”
She smiled at him and looked back at the pot of spaghetti she had made. Peter also looked at it longingly because it did taste really good.
By the time Jean brought it up to steaming and then down again to eat, evening light was coming through the windows. Jean dragged over a big yellow recliner to put it next to Peter’s computer, and she was holding the spaghetti pot as they both ate out of it, looking over the results of Jean’s brain scan.
8%.
“It’s…something.” Peter said.
Jean looked from the data to him and asked, “Can you tell me anything about it?”
“Uh…” Peter said, “E.V.?”
Peter’s artificial intelligence had been quiet for most of the day, either working with him directly or operating silently. Now it spoke up. “Hi Peter!”
“Can you summarize anything you detect about Jean’s brain scan?”
After a pause the computer said, “Data is inconclusive as of yet. Most of Miss Grey’s cerebral activity falls along normal activity lines detectable with these sensors. I have detected minor anomalies, but nothing stands out from normal brain activity at this resolution. Sorry.”
Peter nodded, “So the scan will need to go on longer.”
EV said, “Or a more powerful sensor is needed, or brain activity needs to be amplified.”
Peter looked at Jean. She was munching on dinner as she considered her options. She swallowed and then said, “So we need to get more of these things on my head, or I need to use my powers.”
“Basically.” Peter said with a shrug.
Jean sighed thinking of the latter option, then explained, “I haven’t been using my powers since I discovered they were going haywire. I thought it might make things worse.” She looked at Peter, “Will they make things worse?”
Peter shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Yeah, I don’t either.” She breathed out.
Peter shrugged and said, “We can stay with what we're doing now, it just takes time. I think if I was gonna build a better sensor…”
“I know, too much for what you have.” Jean said.
Peter, after a pause, said, “Sorry.”
She looked at him. “Why? That you can't just instantly use your spider powers to tell me what's wrong with my brain? You're letting me crash in your place -for free- to help me. What the hell are you apologizing for?”
“I just…” Peter was coming down from being elated by her zeal, “I… feel bad when I can't solve someone’s problems.”
“Peter, what are we doing right now?”
“Uh, scanning your brain…?” When he looked at her incredulous eyes, he sighed, “Solving your problem?”
“Got it in one.” Jean replied. After a pause of the two of them there, she said softer, “You’re too hard on yourself. You know that, right?”
“Yeah… I… I can’t do anything less than what I’m doing, though. It's just… what I do.”
Jean’s eyes looked Peter over. He wasn't looking at her then, but he looked exhausted, almost as if all the weight of his four isolated years were settling in on him.
Pressing her lips together she resolved to do something about fixing that face. She thrust the bowl of spaghetti at him, snapping him out of his reverie as she said, “Good thing I’m here then.” She got up and headed to the bathroom.
Peter watched her go, hair bouncing as she went, legs swinging as she walked. Her waistline was hidden under her sweater, but not her torso. After she disappeared from view, he realized he had been checking her out. He stopped and stared at that realization since, well, it was the first time in a long time he had considered anyone other than MJ.
At that moment it hit Peter that he had a girl in his apartment. He had t had female company since MJ came over to May’s apartment for the first time to see him. It was a big deal then, but everything had been a big deal with MJ.
Now? This was his own place, and it was Jean who was here visiting, sitting in his bed, cooking for him… and he had the feeling she was going to stay, whether he asked her to or not.
Oddly, he didn’t feel like it was a bad thing. Was he that lonely for companionship? From Jean?
It was routine for Peter to do a workout, then shower, before getting to bed. That was when he was Spiderman for most of the day. He hesitated as he set up at the weight bench, not sure if his back would handle it, but he was going to try his usual seated shoulder press. Part of it was wanting to keep up the routine so he didn't lose muscle when he returned to being spiderman. Part of it was trying to prove to himself he wasn't as out of the game as he feared.
Jean had her attention on him. If there's one thing she remembered from gym class in school, it's that you needed someone to spot you when lifting. Peter hadn't asked for her to do so, which felt like a problem getting worse by the second.
She was on the couch, Fellowship of the ring open again, but she lowered it when Peter undocked the bar. “Peter do you-”
Peter grunted loudly as his back spasmed in pain. His sharp rasp yanked Jean off the couch and she ran over to grab the bar. Both of them pushed the thing back up into position, docked it against the rack, and took a moment. She asked him then, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah…” Peter said between breaths. “Ow.”
She shook her head at him. “Don’t do that again.”
“I know.”
She winced down at him, “Didn’t the doctor give you care instructions?”
“They’re…somewhere.” Peter replied, head hitting the wall gently.
“Peter,” Jean sighed as her forehead bumped the pillar of the support frame. “Those are important!”
“I know… but I'm spiderman, with Spider… healing? And like-”
Shaking her head in irritation, Jean interrupted him: “Spiders- aren't- known for their healing Peter! They don't get up again after getting stepped on!”
Peter chuckled in spite of himself. She was right, but he was finding her flustered irritation as somehow adorable. Gesturing with his hand he eventually found words, “I've tanked hits before but… you're right. I'm sorry Jean.”
Jean looked at him as her forehead rested against the bar. She swallowed and said quietly, “You're all I have Peter, please don't break yourself in a way I can't fix.”
She slid away from the weight set and walked off, picking up the book from the floor and throwing it to the couch. He watched her resume course for the bathroom.
Peter was left in that quiet part of his room, wondering what to do with what she said to him.
There was one time when she was young that Jean, her sister, and their mom took a road trip across part of the country. Jean didn't know why, and unless she tracked down her mother she wouldn't ever know.
But she did remember the ephemeral sense of being in a motel lodging getting ready for bed. Her mom and sister were doing something else while she looked at the bathroom mirror, brushing her teeth, wondering where they were going tomorrow.
Though she was effectively homeless during her rampage last month it was never calm enough to bring her back to that memory. She was in Peter's place now, also temporary, and tomorrow was still unknown.
The diodes at the back of her hair still glowed dimly with their activation lights. She wanted to move them, they wouldn't be comfortable to sleep in, but with today's progress it opened the possibility of staying with Peter long enough to find answers. This was both tantalizing… and shameful. Peter freely offered his help and wisdom; but she wasn't certain how welcome she was. He would help her, that's what he did. But did he really want Jean Grey, mind-hijacking superbeing, in his space? Or was he just humoring her because he's spiderman and he helps everybody?
“You have me.”
How far did that go? Just friendship, or…
As she spit her toothpaste and rinsed out the old brush she concluded she might not ever know. She could try to read his mind again but that would be a violation, on top of not being likely to tell her what she knew. Her mind powers wouldn't offer her anything this time.
She rinsed out her mouth, turned off the faucet, and her eyes caught the bottles in the sorry stall passing as a shower. Jean turned around to look at them and by extension, him, as she stepped closer.
This man used decent hair care products, deodorant, and a body wash with a sporty presentation. Probably not a surprise since he was Spiderman, but it was a small detail to make Peter less of a cartoon and more of a man in her eyes.
A man she wanted to see more of. A man he spent four years avoiding.
She again came back to the certainty that Peter needed help living. The episodes over the day where he put himself last would destroy him. She didn't want to allow that anymore as he wouldn't allow her to take Bill Metzger's life.
She would stay. Maybe tomorrow she could make progress helping Peter reclaim his life.
She finished in the bathroom, popping the lock on the door by turning the handle, and walked out.
Peter was making his bed. She stopped and watched him for a moment as he did, it was the first time she'd see him do some domestic responsibility. As she was comparing her technique of fitting the sheet to how she would do it, it occurred to her that he wouldn't be making the bed unless-
He saw her. “Oh, uh-” he held out his hands to gesture to his bed, “For you!”
Jean looked at it. Twin mattress, so wide enough for comfort. Wide enough for both of them to sleep on it if they wanted, but-
“No.” She said.
“What?”
“I'm not taking your bed.” To his surprised face she went on, “I'm a guest. No.”
“Does it matter that I'm offering it to you?”
“No. Because I'm not the one recovering from a bullet wound. You need to rest.” She walked across his floor to the couch she had been using for most of the day, tossing stuff off of it.
Peter walked around one of the room's support pillars to look at her. “Jean-”
She didn't look at him as she went on, “If I wanted to be comfortable, I wouldn't have come.”
“Jean, if you're going to have those sensors on, you-”
“I'll take them off if I can't sleep here.”
“They can stay on… do you want a pillow?”
“A blanket too if you have it.”
Peter got those things for her. As he went, she moved the sensors to pin her bangs out of her face. She was settled on the couch, sleeping on her back as she tucked the pillow under her head and curled the blanket over her. Once nestled in the bed, she looked up at Peter standing beside the couch and the concern on his face. “Peter, I'm fine! Go to sleep!”
“Ohkay, Goodnight Jean.” the levity had dropped from his voice.
“Goodnight Peter.” she said, softer.
Peter clicked off the light and settled into bed. As he lay there, his impulse was to check his phone and see what Ned and MJ were up to through the Internet, but he didn't have to do that anymore to see them. The adventure over the past month allowed him to reenter their lives, at last.
It also showed him how much they moved on already.
He was still coming to terms with the magnitude of denial he sat in l for four years. He was so busy being Spiderman that he never circled back around to resolve the issue with his friends. Later, he would have, but later kept getting put off until it was too late.
How much time had just slipped away while he chased the responsibility of being spiderman? What else was he going to miss because he didn't notice? Or put off for tomorrow? Or set aside for things that granted him no joy, draining him?
As he started to drift off he wondered where Jean fit into this equation.
The couch was barely comfortable, but Peter would be the last one to know. Jean had slept on worse, this is paradise by comparison to the homeless stint she had while she was on the run.
All the same the guilt about imposing on Peter sat with her. She sat uncomfortably with these conflicting feelings, too.
She had plenty to atone for and she didn't know where to begin to fix it. She had left in part to get a clear head to figure out how to make it right. Besides, she was too conflicted to face Peter.
But she was too lonely to stay away for long. That was the worst of it- she didn't want to go back to being by herself in the world and she couldn't bear being away if something else happened to him. Today only affirmed that desire as he nearly injured himself again trying to go back to his hazardous way of life.
The push and pull of guilt vs desire, autonomy vs dependency, made it hard for Jean to find her feelings. For now, while her powers acted strangely, she would stay with Peter…
Even if she didn't feel she was worthy of his attention after what she did. Even if she was uncertain whether these feelings she was having would ever be reciprocated.
She passed out wishing her powers could fix that.
Jean dreamed.
A normal life in New York City, waking up with Peter. Her dream was mute as they went about their morning routines, him shaving and her getting breakfast on. A talk at the breakfast table over the news, what they were going to do that day.
They dressed and traveled the city together on errands, her always with him and just in his shadow, but having more words to say. They walked side by side, hands in pockets, talking about life before this. New York was nothing like the small towns upstate. Peter always wanted to feel what it was like to hear the quiet in the country.
They had coffee together. Exchanged ideas together. Relaxed at home, enjoying the shared space together. They came as a set; do not separate.
No powers. Just mundane living.
Peter had this same dream.