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Against all odds, Peter Parker and Michelle Jones started dating during the summer between the eleventh and twelfth grade and remained a couple all the way through their college careers. They had both chosen to continue their education in New York. Peter at Columbia so that he didn’t have to stray too far from the city he’d sworn to protect and Michelle at New York University so that she could stay close to the friends that she’d never imagined herself having. But despite the fact that they didn’t share a campus, they remained as close as ever. For four years, nightly phone calls and spending whatever free time they had to themselves, together was part of their regular routine.
During their third year, on one of their weekend visits home, Peter proposed. He had planned it out with zeal, packing a picnic lunch and holding it one hand while the fingers of his other, interlocked with Michelle's as they walked through a little known park. And when they approached the end of their slightly off-trail hike, a beautiful small clearing and two trees with the words ‘MJ, will you marry me? ’ neatly webbed between them came into view. It’s corny and sweet, and such a ‘Peter’ thing to do that she said ‘yes' without any thought at all.
They Married the following summer, high school sweethearts, full of youthful naivety and what, at the time, seemed like an inexhaustible supply of optimism. They moved into a modest apartment in Queens. One that was close to May but not too far for Michelle to continue to commute to NYU, in her pursuit of a further degree in law. Peter, however, chose not to return to Columbia, content with a bachelor's degree in electrical engineering. Tony had encouraged him to keep going but having moved away from the dorms and back into the familiar neighborhood, he couldn’t bring himself to put in the hours. The city was calling to him with a pull that he couldn’t ignore, and he found himself spending more and more time swinging about in an effort to quiet the constant thrum of his spider senses.
Neither Peter nor Michelle accepted the jobs that Stark Industries offered to them. Michelle had already found an entry-level position at a law firm near the college campus all on her own and was unwilling to give it up. The denial of the substantially better paying positions had caused strife, Peter arguing that she was selling herself short by sticking with such a slim salary. Of course, it hadn’t stopped there because Peter had also declined a well compensated position and his excuse, according to Michelle, had been unreasonable.
“I can’t put in the time it requires, MJ!” he shouted, having already thought it through. He understood the conditions of the job he’d been offered and couldn’t very well accept them knowing that he had an entire city counting him. The hours would be long and unpredictable, and he would be required to travel around the country doing presentations and securing collaborations. It would have been a far cry from his time as an unofficial intern, stopping by a few days a week to update his suit and eat pizza with Tony. “I have other responsibilities!”
“Responsibilities that you took up all on your own! No one made that decision for you!” MJ had heatedly countered and all Peter could do was stare at her. She’d never objected to his heroism before, and it hurt.
“I didn’t choose to have these powers,” he said, the words, ‘When you can do the things that I can, but you don't and then the bad things happen they happen because of you,’ playing through his head like a broken record. He’d already taken a four-year hiatus from daily patrolling, only popping in when things got really bad or the Avengers needed an assist. He tried not to think about the number of bad things that had taken place in his sectional absence. “Look, MJ, I’ll find something else. Something a little less demanding. I promise.” He avoided meeting Michelle's eyes as he spoke. He already felt guilty enough.
To his credit, Peter did try finding something else. He spent weeks looking through ads in an attempt to locate a job that was within his field and would mesh with the unpredictability that came with being Spider-man. But what he was looking for didn’t seem to exist. Eventually, he had to give in, push his ostensibly useless degree to the side, and accept the first minimum wage position that was offered to him. Though he wasn’t able to hold onto it for very long. Nor was he able to hold on to the next one or the one that came after that because there was always something else aggressively demanding his attention. Outside of New York's numerous petty thieves and insipid thugs, there were hostile scientists and unethically contrived monsters popping up all over the place. Often at the most inconvenient times, making it difficult to properly maintain a schedule. Even one that had been put together with a multitude of accommodations.
One late afternoon on one of the exceedingly rare days where Michelle had neither school nor work, Peter walked in the door looking weary. He flopped down onto the couch, yanked the cheap pizza themed baseball cap off of his head, and aggressively tossed it to the side.
“I thought you were working late tonight?” Michelle had asked, barely looking up from the flashcards that had been strewn across their small kitchen table.
“I was. Then seven guys decided to rob the bank at fifth and main. They had hostages and everything,” Peter said, then leaning his head onto the back of the couch and closing his eyes. He wasn’t eager to explain the reason for his early return. “By the time I had them all webbed up my shift had been given to someone else.” He gritted his teeth and balled his fists up by his sides, mentally preparing himself for the argument he was about to spark. “Permanently.”
“Peter, that’s the third job you’ve lost in as many months,” Michelle irritably and predictably stated. Looking at him fully for the first time since he’d walked through the door. “You can’t keep doing this.”
“Doing what? Protecting Queens? What do you think? That I enjoy getting my ass kicked and jumping from one shitty job to the next? Because, news flash, I don’t. But I can’t exactly dictate when the criminals and crazies of New York come out, so what would you have me do, MJ? Post my schedule online?” For a moment, Peter thought that perhaps sarcasm wasn’t the right choice. But it was good for hiding behind and Tony had been an excellent teacher.
“I want you to -ugh!” Michelle shouted, angrily knocking several stacks of index cards across the floor in the process. “Rent is due in two weeks, Peter. Just find a damn job!” Then she stomped off into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
It soon became abundantly clear that even though they loved each other greatly they had not, either one of them, been entirely prepared for the challenges of marriage. Let alone one with the further complication of Peter being a superhero. As a result, they fought. They fought about everything from the division of household obligations to the dripping faucet that had yet to be repaired. They would scream back and forth and throw accusations around, left and right, until there was nothing left to say. Then a doleful silence would inevitably fall between them, followed by a few apologies that neither of them quite meant. Because it wasn’t the words that they were sorry about. Just the way that they had said them.
Months came and went with very little reprieve and both Peter and Michelle could feel their relationship beginning to tear apart at the seams. Though neither of them was brave enough to try and talk about it. Consequently, they began to slowly drift apart.
Michelle had been the first to pull away after spending too many nights sitting alone at the dinner table. She’d stare at the empty seat across from her and wonder how committed Peter actually was to their marriage. Because, at times, it appeared as though he was putting everything else before her. He’d stay out all night, often coming home bruised and bleeding. She’d sew him up each time, bitterly aware that throwing stitches wasn’t a skill she should even have. But because she loved him, she endured.
Having recognized the distance that Michelle had begun to put between them, Peter drew back as well. He knew he wasn’t the easiest person to live with. That he was all over the place, constantly second guessing himself and screwing up his priorities in the process. Hence, he gave her the copious amounts of space that she seemed to desire, hoping that it would be enough to make a life with him more bearable. He would stay out for hours at a time and when there was nothing in particular to do, he would sit gloomily atop the highest buildings and wish that he were at home. He missed her. To the point that he began to savor the moments that he would come home tattered and torn, and she would gently piece him back together. Though there was a small part of him that knew what he was asking of her was unfair.
Admittedly, things weren’t always bad. There were rare occasions when a narrow stretch of time that wasn’t awash with tireless commitments would appear, and they could simply lay against one another on the couch. And in those extraordinary moments there was a sense of peace between them. One that made them wonder if they would ever find a way to truly fix the mess that they’d become. Yet neither of them really tried.
One evening, after a particularly difficult fight, Peter in his distress, sought out Tony. Then proceeded to unload the weight that had been accumulating on his shoulders. The man, in turn, had begged him to sit down and talk to his wife. Advising him that he’d been there and already knew that things wouldn’t get any better until he and Michelle had talked things out. But Peter was resistant.
“I’ve tried talking to her, Tony!” Peter had shouted past the painful lump in his throat. "I really have, but I never say the right things and maybe that's because I’m the problem. She’d probably be happier without me and as much as it would hurt, maybe I need to just step out of the picture. I love her, Tony and if that’s what she needs to be content then I’m willing to do that for her.”
On that same night, Michelle had gone to one of the few other people who knew about her husband’s alter-ego. May had received her with open arms and allowed her to cry on her shoulder until her tears had run dry. Then with full understanding, Peter’s aunt held her hands and encouraged her to talk to her husband, pressing that communication was their only hope of ever working things out. Though, Michelle had simply shaken her head.
“He won’t listen to me. And even if he did, he’d spend the rest of his life resenting me for asking him to make time for a family that I don't even know that he wants," Michelle had firmly stated, furtively wiping the remnants of tears from her own cheeks. "I understand how important being Spider-man is to him and I don't want to stand in the way of that. I just think it would be best if I simply walk away before things can get any more complicated. I love him, May; I love him so much that I can do that for him.”
As time passed, they continued to dance around one another in a misguided attempt to keep the peace. Peter spent increasingly long hours in the suit hoping to appease Michelle. And Michelle silently grit her teeth every time Peter pulled the mask over his face. That, in turn, had led to more quarreling. But never once did either of them attempt to discuss the root of the problem. Both convinced that they themselves were the other's biggest obstacle.
A couple of weeks later, Michelle walked into the apartment after a long day of work and school to find Peter on the couch. He was sound asleep with the top half of the spider-suit pooled around his waist, fully displaying an array of deep bruises. She bit her lip with both worry and frustration, then dropped her bags loudly enough to jolt him awake. Though she offered him no time to blink away the grogginess before laying into him with accusatory inquiries.
“MJ? Fuck! This isn’t what it looks like!” Peter announced, looking both bleary-eyed and startled all at once.
“Then what is it, Peter?" Michelle pleaded with increasing amounts of frustration bleeding into her voice. “Because it looks an awful lot like you went out web-slinging instead of going to work today!”
Suddenly feeling much more awake, Peter gingerly sat up, careful not to jostle what he was convinced were several cracked ribs, and tried to explain. “That’s not it! There were these assholes who-”
“You needed that fucking job, Peter! I don’t want to hear about it!” Michelle interjected without ever breaking eye contact.
Having bristled at the underlying implication that he’s lost yet another lousy job, Peter abruptly stood up. “I had my shift moved to tomorrow morning. Everything is fine,” he strained, resisting the overwhelming urge to ball his fists up by his sides.
“Everything is not fine! Things are never fine with you!” Michelle screamed but regretted it instantly. She’d not meant to say something so damning or transparent. Then Peter’s face fell, and she had to look away.
“MJ. I don’t-” Peter whispered, all of his anger had left him at once. Though he never finished his thought. Michelle had already walked to the dining room and taken a seat facing away from him.
The air in the room remained thick and muted for what felt like a painful eternity until Peter finally wandered towards the bedroom to remove the suit and shower. When he was done, he took a seat at the edge of the bed and leaned forward to prop his head in his palms. But not even a moment later, he heard his wife gently tapping on the door frame and looked up.
“Look, we need to talk,” Michelle said, her expression exuding apprehension and sorrow.
“Yeah,” Peter replied with a solemn nod of his head and a slight break in his voice. “I think you’re right.”
There was an uncomfortable pause before they looked desperately towards one another saying, “I can’t do this anymore,” in near unison. In the wake of the identical admissions, their eyes went wide and they both smiled wearily. At that point, Michelle crossed the distance between them and sat down beside Peter on the bed. And from there they talked.
Peter confessed he didn't know what it was she really wanted from him or if she still wanted him at all. He explained he wanted her to be happy but that he wasn’t confident he was the one that could do that for her. Because no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t seem to figure out how to balance everything that had been piled onto his plate. He told her that he felt as though he were constantly being pulled in too many directions and being stretched painfully thin. But mostly, he tearfully apologized for having not come to her before things got out of hand.
In turn, Michelle opened up about her desires for a family and her concern that she was pushing him into something that he didn’t want. She told him she didn’t want to be the reason that he didn’t meet his potential. All in the same breath, she admitted she was struggling with the combined stress of school work and not knowing when, or if, her husband was coming home. But still, she apologized for having erected such a thick wall between them. Because without it, perhaps things wouldn’t have escalated as they had.
They talked well into the night about their fears, their frustrations, their expectations, and their willingness to go to the ends of the Earth for the other. There were tears and bickering and wet laughter as they spoke candidly and reminisced about the past. And as the new day began to dawn before they’d had a chance to properly end the last, they decided to place the conversation on hold. Both feeling exhausted and hopeful for amends. Enough so that they could finally rest. Then, as they drifted off, they embraced each other in a way that they’d not done since shortly after their wedding.
When they woke up, the late afternoon sun spilling into their room, lighting it aglow with its bright orange hues. Peter stretched his legs under the sheets and turned towards his wife with a contented smile. “I love you,” he whispered into her ear as he pulled her close and kissed her gently upon the cheek.
“I love you too,” MJ returned, turning her head so that their lips could meet. “I always have.”
Peter returned to his back, taking Michelle’s hand into one of his and placing the other thoughtfully behind his head. “So, where do we go from here?” he asked softly and then looked to the side so that he could see the way she was smiling at him.
“The only direction there is to go,” Michelle quietly replied, pausing shortly to give Peter’s hand a tight squeeze.
“ Forward .”