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The first few days after the spell are spent gathering the broken pieces of his life together. He doesn’t have time to cry, but it happens regardless as he packs his things from his old apartment that he’d once shared with May.
He’s too young to know the general proceedings that are needed for a burial, but he does. He’s overheard the phone calls and recognises the words that he sees on google. His efforts are halted early on when it’s revealed to him that measures have already been put in place for May. The team over at F.E.A.S.T. had heard the news and made the arrangements, unaware that she still had surviving family who would try.
He knows his days in their old apartment are numbered, but he lingers a little longer, feeling hollow that he was unable to put her to rest.
He lingers at the edges of her funeral with a promise to see her, and see her often. Watching the proceedings hurts so deeply, the kind of hurt you can never get accustomed to no matter how many times you go through it, but with every word he hears from volunteers, friends and others she’d touched in some way he can’t help but feel a little warmer. She was loved, and this was so much more than enough.
It was the goodbye she deserved.
Peter says a lot of goodbyes that week, even ones he hadn’t expected to make. He leaves MJ and Ned in each other’s capable hands, let them grapple the remainder of senior year together, hopefully it’ll be more peaceful now.
He won’t be the one to bring them comfort anymore, but someone will. Maybe they’ll find it in themselves, maybe in each other, maybe in the people that will take Peter’s place, without realising someone had ever been there to begin with, building up on stronger foundations for a better future rather than tearing it down.
These thoughts are playing in his head on loop with every step he takes away from Peter Pan’s and from them, he feels more confident in his choice. The tug on his heart is still there, every step is still hard and he wishes it could be different, but it’s not and maybe that’s okay because they are safe and he will find a way to continue on like he always does. It will take time. It will hurt. But he will try. And for now, every step is for them and the future he will never get to see for them. For now, maybe that’s enough.
It is not an easy existence that has been forced upon him, and he knows he’s made it harder with the choices he has made for himself, but if there is something a Parker can do, it is carry on.
He takes a deep breath, eyes scanning over each of the stained walls. He knows that it’s a shit hole but he manages a small smile when he remembers that it, through extortionate monthly payments, is his. It feels a little more like home when he imagines May’s reaction; ‘potential,’ she would say after grumbling about the state of it, which she would go on to argue was the landlord’s responsibility to make decent before their arrival, ‘it’ll take a bit of work, but it’s got potential’.
When he finds time and has the cash, he grabs the bare essentials to put in that work. A few of his neighbours take pity on him and lend him cleaning supplies, and soon enough he has the staples to make the work a little easier. On days where he can’t study, or nights where he can’t sleep, or times that should be filled with the laughter of friends, he puts in the work.
It takes time. It takes effort, but soon the walls are a little cleaner, the place looks a little brighter. The mattress is still disgusting but he hides that under layers of protectors and an extra quilt he’d found (and washed thoroughly). It’s still not perfect, the kitchen is not big enough to cook in (not that he does regularly enough for it to matter), the water is still unreliable and the cobwebs reform pretty quickly when he is not able to manage the amount of upkeep for, an honest to god, clean and spotless apartment.
It is not a home, but it is his. For now, that’s enough.
It takes a lot of time but he manages to find some pleasure in what he does.
He knows May had no intentions of making it all duty, knows she would hate to see how he had added further weight to his shoulders from his own guilt under the guise of her words, knows she would hate that he bears any guilt at all.
He apologises to her daily.
He finds an unsteady balance on scales that shift frequently.
He finds fun.
He finds friends.
He grows. Not into the man he could have been had so many circumstances been different, but into a man nonetheless.
Now older and not necessarily wiser, but more experienced, he knows certain truths. He tries bear the burden of responsibility with May’s words echoing in his head; when you help someone, you help everyone. He tries to take things one at a time. Sometimes it’s enough to stop the weight of it all from crushing him, sometimes, like today, it was more than enough.
He had been swinging through the financial district, trying to parse the leads on the current case he was working with Yuri. The fresh air that he could barely feel through his mask helped, the repetitive nature of his movements, the sounds and heartbeat of his home and the general joy of swinging through the city helped more.
It was then that he saw a figure with their face in their phone about to step out into oncoming traffic.
It was then that he helped his one person for that moment.
It was then that he helps one of THE people. He just doesn’t realise it yet.
“You gotta look where you’re going, bud.” He calls as he swings down to check that the man was okay, having been jerked back from the curb edge. “We might let those things rot out brains, but come on, don’t let it make you-...” His words trail off as he sees a familiar face that he doesn’t know anymore. A familiar face who is awestruck and bent over laughing in a way Peter hasn’t heard in years. In mere seconds, Peter is taken back years and years, unable to keep a smile from forming over his face as he hears the man that was once his best friend laugh once again.
“Dude-...” Ned says breathlessly.
“Dude.” Peter echoes back.
“I guess death would have been a little worse than rejection.” The face continues to laugh, clearly still in shock. Peter understands. He’s pleased he’s wearing the mask because he is scanning over the face with reverence, taking in every difference and every similarity, finding joy in the growth that he sees there. “Thanks, man.”
“N-No problem. It's what I do.” It is all he can do. “W-What are you going to be rejected by?”
“Job interview.” It’s a sign of how much time has passed between them. He thinks in a different life he might have gotten to know more, but he has this life built from the choices he has made. He has this life which means he doesn’t know when Ned decided to change his hair, or when he started walking with his shoulders back, exuding a level of self-assurance that Peter had only seen the start of through fashion choices and unabashed excitement. He thinks it suits him well. He has this life which means he doesn’t get to know what it might be like to help Ned prepare for this interview beyond ensuring that he arrives to it in one piece.
Peter smiles, unseen by the mask and nods. “Good luck, man. You’ll kill it.”
Ned, finally getting his breath back and putting his hand over his heart to check it was still beating. “Yeah. Thanks, Pete.” Everything stops, now Peter is tempted to mimic his motions because he’s not entirely sure if he is still breathing.
“What did you say?”
“Huh?” Ned hums, still trying to collect himself. “I said thanks, man.”
Everything starts again and Peter puts it down to a long, misplaced hope for why he heard something else. “You should get some water. Calm down and look over those notes, while-... Y'know, safely seated.” He says and Ned laughs in agreement.
They part ways, and while Peter wishes things could be different, he feels no sadness from this glimpse that he got. Regret, nostalgia and ‘what ifs’ made it hard for him to find peace in the decision he made all those years ago, but the memory that the last time Ned’s future had been on the right path, Peter’s presence had created quite the diversion. For now, knowing that everything ahead of his old friend is open and possible, is enough. For now, the pride he feels to see his friend, grown and on his way to something, is enough.
If Peter were paying more attention, he might have noticed that he was not the only one looking back. The other in a more literal sense.
Peter doesn’t really know how it happens, he had made his peace with the fact that it never would, but it does and a few months after he saves Ned from becoming roadkill, Peter is opening the door to him holding beers in one hand and a pizza in the other. Perhaps that’s why he spends most of Ned’s explanation zoned out, he’s in shock.
“Peter Parker.” Ned greets him and Peter’s mouth is dry and slightly agape because he doesn’t understand what is going on. “You’re a fucking ass. Can I come in?” Peter does not respond, still thoroughly confused. Ned, perhaps thinking that Peter simply didn’t like the current offer, lifts his hands, “I brought pizza and beer. Perfect way to hash this all out, huh?”
Peter thinks that Ned must still be friends with Michelle because that attitude has her influence all over it. It feels strange that he doesn’t even know that about them now. Maybe that was just who Ned was now. Maybe they aren’t even friends anymore, that might explain why Michelle isn’t next to him.
“Hash what out?” He asks, his voice breaking a little at the thought. Perhaps this is something completely different, what that something could be, he has no clue, but he’d prefer it to the implication that this perfect little life he’d concocted for them in his head, any time he let his thoughts wander back to them, was a complete lie.
“I remember, Peter. You’re a hard man to find.”
He opens up the door for Ned to come in, feeling numb, but there’s a glimmer of something else in there. Even if MJ is not here, maybe he can have his old friend back. That will be more than he ever expected and certainly more than he deserved.
He gets a text a few weeks later from a number he didn’t recognise, inviting him to the roof of his building. Against his better judgement, he heads up there, spotting her as soon as he exits the service door. MJ is sat there, legs dangling over the edge, looking care-free to anyone that doesn’t know her. His eyes drop slightly to her hands gripping the lip of the ledge tightly, pleased that he at least knows this.
“Figured you’d prefer to have this chat up here.” She says when the door closes behind him, alerting her of his presence. “Plenty of directions for you to run.” His hopes for a peaceful reconciliation hadn’t been high following his conversation with Ned. It turns out the beer and pizza had only been there to fill the awkward silences that arose often and quickly while they talked. He is unsurprised Michelle has her hackles up, and knows he deserves a lot worse.
He swallows, lips pressed into a thin line as he walks up to the ledge she’s perched herself on. “You weren’t with Ned.” A dumb and obvious statement, but it starts to address the elephant in the room.
“Why would I be?” Michelle hasn’t looked at him yet, but he looks at her. It is the first time he has seen her since High School and to say he is awestruck is an understatement. His eyes take their time, taking in her curls, styled away from her face as she’d started to do in Senior Year; face a little sharper; lips a little chapped from the cold but inviting; necklace missing. Different, but so close to what he remembers. She is heartbreakingly beautiful.
“You guys figured it out.”
She hums. “And yet I don’t owe you anything.” He is not sure if this is going better or worse than his conversation with Ned. He had forgotten what it was like to talk to MJ and her blunt honesty that left little room for interpretation. The rusty cogs of Peter’s memory begin to turn as he struggles to catch up.
“That’s true.”
Silence hangs between them. He looks down at his lap. She sighs and finally looks at him. Just like Ned there is a softness in her eyes – a want, a need, but it is guarded by hurt, pain, fear and anger. “I needed a little more time.”
“That’s fair.”
“Are you sorry?”
He pauses and thinks. Their safety and happiness were and always will be one of his priorities, but there are lines he’d crossed. There are voices that still scream in his head that he’d done the right thing. He sighs. “Sometimes.” It’s the closest thing to a real answer he can give, even if it’s not the right one.
“You’re a fucking idiot.” She snaps at his response and he nods with a derisive laugh.
“Just a bit.”
The silence creeps back over them again like a blanket, comforting in that it reminds them neither is sure how this should go.
“I missed you.” His heart tugs, and he closes his eyes, tilting his head back, wishing it were true, wishing it wasn’t.
“You didn’t remember me.”
“I remembered the feelings though. I knew someone had caused that and I missed them.”
“Ah.”
“Did you miss me?”
“I’ll always miss you, M-Michelle.” A sideways glance at her face lets him know that he’s said the right thing. It hurts, knowing that he’s lost that right to her, but he understands. And as she hesitantly rests her head against his shoulder while they look out over the city, he can’t help but feel that it’s a loss he can live with so long as he can have her back in any shape or form. Acquaintance or friend, hell, mistake from her past, he’ll take it.
It’s enough knowing he exists to them once more, even if it was his own doing that had stopped that.
Their reunion is tentative and awkward. They rush into things too quickly and then take steps backwards. It is a dance that none of them expected to have to learn.
Healing, forgiveness and trust all take time, but for once Peter is willing to try and make plenty of it because he has been gifted with this. He will never be able to make up for what he did. It was more than a promise that he broke, but their trust and their ability to choose for themselves. He knew that, and while he will always do what he thinks is in the best interest of their safety, he does regret his actions.
This time, they are all choosing to plough ahead through the hardship of forgiveness and mending broken friendships. This time, they are not there simply because they cannot be anywhere else, forced into his side by the press looming over them. They all have their eyes open about what could be and what might be. They are choosing to do this.
The struggle that they’re going through all feels rather worth it, when Kenny, a friend from ESU, asks Peter if there’s anyone else he’d like to have come to his ‘surprise’ birthday party (the surprise is whether Peter will arrive on time, because if they tried to plan one he didn’t know about there was a risk he might actually ditch it). Peter is hesitant in asking Ned and Michelle to attend, but he does and they do.
He stands in the corner, a drink he’s barely touched in hand, watching over his small group of people, made up of old, new and found again, with a fond smile.
Michelle soon joins him. She’s more outgoing than when they were in High School, but he’s learnt she has her limits, sliding off to the side lines for quiet moments to herself. “Hey, Michelle.” He greets, “Having a good time?”
She hums, leaning up against the wall, her shoulder brushing up against his. He doesn’t really expect much more from her, and doesn’t ask it from her either. It’s a comfortable silence as they look over the others, now jumping along to a song that Peter doesn’t recognise.
“You know you can call me MJ, right?”
He didn’t, but he does now. They’re still healing, but this is a step.
“MJ!” Ned calls out from the makeshift dancefloor that is Kenny’s living room as another song starts up. “It’s our song, come on!” Peter raises his brow at how upbeat it sounds but says nothing.
“You better get going.” He says teasingly and MJ scoffs through a laugh.
“Yeah.” She answers as she pushes upright, pausing for a second before pressing a kiss to his cheek. It’s delicate and too fast, but it has him blushing nonetheless. “Happy birthday, Parker.” She whispers before she’s joining Ned and bouncing by his side.
It all plays on loop later that night when Peter is alone, leaving him to smile at his ceiling.
Peter is far from a perfect person, and while he has his people, he isn’t always great at remembering that he is also one of their people, and that they might like to have some insight into his wellbeing. Especially when the news reports that Spider-Man had been downed in the Hudson with no reports of him resurfacing and no word from Peter Parker to comfort them either.
Since the pair of them, Ned and MJ, had remembered and re-entered his life, things in the Spidey-dome had been pretty easy. It wasn't hard to forget that this was a dangerous job and that not every night he would come home safe. Or maybe they remembered, and he was the one who’d forgotten – forgotten that when things are bad the people who care about you would like to know.
It is not a problem until it is one.
Something had been bubbling across the city in recent weeks and it culminates in a breakout at Rykers Island. A breakout of everyone; from petty thugs to-... well. Everyone there had a pretty heavy grudge against him but there were some who were a little more vocal and violent about it. Some, who a truly kind beneficiary, had equipped with all their old gear.
Peter may be experienced at this but he is far from perfect. 6 vs 1 was a little harder when there was metal rhinos, electric people and mechanical wings and claws hitting him from every angle, along with a glowy dude.
He thinks that this is the end. It wouldn’t be the first time he didn’t say goodbye in the right way. He is only marginally aware of how wet his suit feels, eyes struggling to stay open as he claws and wades to grab on to something, a life line. He wonders if it’s water or blood that are drenching him. Either way it can’t be good. He doesn’t have time to think much else. The dark makes a grab him, and he lets it.
He takes time to get back up on his feet. Yuri knew enough of his life outside the suit that he had refuge at F.E.A.S.T., the team there too used to his bullshit and too good for this world, put him up in an office to let him heal. In that time, he didn’t tell Ned or MJ that he was okay, because-... well. Yeah. He’d somewhat forgotten that they knew the dark side of this. That they’d be worried.
“You gave us a fucking heart attack.” Ned shouts, anger and worry and frustration all boiling together. Even after everything they’d been through, he thinks that maybe this is the first time he’d heard Ned, honest to god, angry. MJ is not fazed by it, another reminder of how much he’s missed. In the six months they’ve been ack together, he’s noticed a huge number of those things. “Are you alright? Do you need anything? Can we do anything?” He continues to shout angrily and Peter has to subdue a laugh that hurts his chest.
MJ puts her hand on Ned’s shoulder and their eyes meet. Something is said between them that he cannot hear because they do not speak it aloud. Ned’s expression falls into one of heartbreak, one of understanding. Peter remembers a time when he would have had to be the go-between for these two, but now he is the one left without a translator.
“I’m gonna go get you some more water.” Ned huffs once they’re done talking, grabbing the crumpled water bottle from Peter’s bedside and storming away towards the kitchen in F.E.A.S.T even though there is a crate of water bottles in the corner of the office.
MJ’s gaze turns towards him. “You know what you’re doing?” She asks after a moment of them staring at each other. It hurts that he didn’t pick up on what she was trying to say without her voice aiding them.
He takes a deep breath, thinking through all his options before nodding. She continues to look over his face. Her hand reaches out and delicately brushes the hair back from his forehead before cupping his cheek. “We’ll be here once you’re done. You have to tell us when you’re back though, or have Yuri tell us, I don't care. We’re not doing this again.” She says sternly but not unkindly, “Ned’s heart can't take it.” He knows she also means her own, and he feels guilty for leaving them in the dark for so long.
She’s not asking what they can do, because she knows he won’t let them help. She knows there’s a bounty of ways to help without Spider-Man and she will busy herself with those. Even if they are not at the same level as she and Ned are, Peter takes a little bit of joy in the fact they can have this much. A conversation missing pieces that the other is able to find. She knows she cannot ask him to be okay, she knows she cannot ask him for promises he might not be able to keep, she knows all this so does not ask for it. He cannot give them everything, but for now he can give them this. He agrees.
It takes days to get everything under control again, but it feels like weeks and minutes with how little he slept in those days. There are still prisoners on the loose, but Yuri assures him that he can go home for a proper rest.
He swings to the place he thinks he’ll feel the most able to relax in.
MJ and Ned return to their apartment that day with Peter Parker barely keeping his eyes open as he waits for them in their hallway.
Their friendship, their relationship, continue on in a similar way.
He crawls through the window, the night had been long, sirens calling him across the city.
This constant weight of not enough pressing down on him as every time he went to swing home, but his duty rang out. Sometimes he could remember May’s words, sometimes his mind twisted them, especially on nights like this where there were a lot of ‘someones’ who needed helping.
Finally, he was home. The bedroom was dark and the bed still made, missing the outline of his girlfriend who he was so ready to curl around. From under the crack of the door he could see a soft orange light spilling through. He smiles ruefully to himself. He stepped out of the suit, knowing his should shower but wanting nothing more than to be done with this day.
He walks out into the living room, and there curled on the sofa was his girlfriend, fast asleep in a position that would leave her neck sore in the morning.
There’s a half-drunk cup of coffee on the table, the jar from which it came, left open on the counter with a spoon balanced across the top.
At 3am, this was not the sight he was expecting to see.
“Babe.” He whispers gently, crouching down beside her but not too close to avoid spooking her. “Hey, MJ. Let’s get into bed, huh?” He continues to coo, watching as she stirs. Her nose twitching in a way he’ll remember but not mention aloud. Her eyes open, but even as they focus on him, she is fighting them closing once more. “Hey, you.” He says, breathless and reverent that he gets this. The nights might be long, but the early hours of the morning could be so beautiful.
MJ takes some time to focus on him, sitting up a little and still struggling to keep her eyes open. “You’re home.” She murmurs, her voice thick from sleep and dehydration. Her hair spills into her eyes with the new position.
He reaches forward, “I’m home,” He says as he tucks the hair behind her ear. “Come on. Let’s get to bed.” She nods drowsily and before she can even move, Peter is shifting to pick her up. His tired muscles know better than to protest this.
Maybe one day he won’t feel guilty for the steady rhythms that their relationship had been forced to fall into. Maybe one day their love won’t go hand in hand with worry. Maybe one day the cracks will finally give way.
He holds her close, feeling it the moment she nods off again in his arms on the short journey to their bedroom.
But, for now, it is theirs. For now, he hopes, it is enough for her to wake up and still choose him. For now, her hand curls around his bicep after she’s rolled on to her stomach. For now, he can go to sleep with a smile on his face.