Gwen wasn't sure what sort of a dream it was.
Oh yes, she knew it was a dream. It had that murky silence, that blur around the edges, that all her dreams possessed. It was almost like being underwater; you could see things well enough, hear what little there was to hear, but everything was finely distorted.
Plus, Spider-Man was there; Peter was there. And Peter hadn't voluntarily tolerated her presence for weeks now. Not in real life anyway.
But there he stood, decked out in his spandex costume, all except for the mask. His face was lowered, his mop of brown hair shielding his features from her view. He was maybe 20 feet away from her, near the edge of the roof they both stood on. Gwen found herself wary, frightened even, but still as compelled as ever to be close to him.
"Peter?" She ventured quietly, but his name seemed to echo in the still night air. He made no indication of hearing her. Hesitantly, she dared to take a step towards him.
Quicker than she could blink, Peter's wrist snapped out, and her leg was hit with abrupt force. She looked down to see her foot encased in webbing, glued to the floor by a substance with a greater tensile strength than steel. She threw her arms out to steady herself as she teetered uneasily. Her other leg sought to find purchase but another shot from Peter immobilized her lower half completely. The entirety of her knee-high boots were encased in his web and bound together. Gwen slowly raised her gaze. Peter was staring at her now, posture hunched and defensive, ready for a fight. His eyes, once filled with hot intensity, were utterly cold. She swallowed, a shiver running down her spine.
Oh. It was one of those dreams.
"Peter, please." She begged in a whisper. He stalked towards her, shooting her with more spider silk with an effortless flick of his wrist. Gwen gasped as her arms were pinned to her sides. Peter stopped a foot in front of her, impassive as he surveyed her fettered form. She looked up at him with imploring eyes.
"I couldn't protect him, Gwen." He said, voice reverberating with sorrow though his expression did not change. She knew he was referring to her father and choked on a sob, her emotions more prominent in this dreamland. Peter circled her captured form, letting loose another thread to bind her as he walked. "I've made enemies." He told her as his gossamer strands tightened around her. She could feel her torso contracting, the web forming a cocoon she could never hope to escape from. Peter stopped in front of her, getting in her face. "I have to keep you safe." He said determinedly. Gwen's lower lip trembled helplessly. Incapable of moving, caught like a fly, she was at his mercy. Peter took a step back, then another, never releasing her gaze. He was leaving her. She knew with a certainty you only had in dreams that if he left now she would never see him again.
"No." She murmured desperately. "No, no, no, please, Peter, don't go." He was farther away now, regretfully shaking his head.
"This is the only way." He announced in resignation. He was almost to the edge.
"Peter!" Gwen shouted, wrestling futilely with her restraints. "You can't! I don't care! I don't care what my dad said! Don't leave me here! Please come back! Peter! Don't do this! I lo—" Another shot of webbing as he fell over the edge, and she had only a second to gag on the sticky substance covering her mouth before the world went dark.
Gwen Stacey sat up with a strangled scream. She glanced towards her window, finding nothing but the summer sun streaming in. She sighed.
Nothing but another nightmare.
Gwen had found herself with a surprising amount of time on her hands. School was out, bringing freedom to most of her classmates but boredom to her. She couldn't wile away the hours in the chem. lab or in her extracurriculars. Not to mention she lost her job when her boss was incarcerated for crimes committed as a giant mutant lizard. So, Gwen didn't really know what to do with herself.
Her father's death had cast a pall over her. It seemed like a divide had been created between her and everyone else. None of her friends knew how to talk to her anymore. They couldn't understand.
Was this how he felt? When it was his uncle? When he walked through the halls like no one could touch him…
Mom was no help. She seemed to have resigned herself to this outcome the moment Dad became a cop. Mom just… held her brothers while they cried, took the condolence calls with a grim smile, let her hand linger over Dad's badge when she thought no one was watching. She didn't get the injustice of it. This wasn't supposed to happen. Dad was a Captain. He was supposed to be a paper-pusher, a delegator. He wasn't supposed to be on that roof.
No… thoughts like this, they only lead to one place. Who to blame?
Her mentor, whose only fault was wanting to help people, to heal himself and others, as misguided a path he chose to that end. Who stuck his claw through her father's chest.
Her father, whose dedication to the people of New York drove him to sacrifice himself. Who knowingly put himself in danger, abandoned her, and with his last breath still sought to control her life.
Or Peter, sweet Peter who was just trying the save the world, the way only he could. Who brought her dad to the tower. Who left him alone with that monster. Who felt guilty enough that he avoided her like the plague since Dad's death.
How could she blame anyone? She loved them all.
She ran into him one day in the park.
Gwen had gone out with the intention of reading in the sunlight, choosing to bring a well-thumbed copy of Crime and Punishment. It was a cloudless day, and it seemed like such a nice alternative to staying in the house that reeked of death and mourning. She chose a small park, only taking up one city block, close to her apartment. She was understandably startled when she saw him. What was Peter Parker doing so far from Queens?
He was hanging upside-down from a tree, taking pictures with his camera. Not one to waste an opportunity, she paused just out of his line of sight. He looked exactly as she remembered. Somehow she expected him to be different. His hair, still the same mousy shade, hung limply towards the ground. His face was turned away from her, but she could picture his features perfectly in her mind. His t-shirt had fallen a bit, giving Gwen a good view of the muscles in his lower back, well defined now. His body seemed to thrum with energy as he swung lightly, legs bent around a branch. Every so often his hands would lift the camera, contorting his body as he aimed, and the flash would go off. He seemed so carefree in that moment, like a boy. It was amazing that there could still be a child inside the man she knew him to be.
A sudden flash of light startled Gwen out of her introspection. She blinked and, upon regaining her sight, saw Peter watching her, torso twisted around, his camera pointed at her face. He wore a slight smile, one that merely hinted at the affection he'd once shown her.
"Hey." He greeted her neutrally. She tried to grin at him, but it had been so long her muscles must have forgotten how to.
"How did you know I was here?" She asked in astonishment. Peter gave an upside-down shrug, looking faintly embarrassed.
"I dunno," He confessed, "I just did. There was this prickling on the back of my neck, and I just got the feeling I wasn't alone. Call it instinct, I guess." Gwen raised a brow.
"Or spider-sense?" She teased gently. He let out a dry chuckle.
"Maybe." He conceded, his brown eyes becoming impossibly warm as he watched her. Gwen felt the beginnings of a blush and diverted her attention from him to the tree.
"Um, so what's with the tree?" She asked uncomfortably. "I mean, what are you doing up there?" Peter reached up (wait, down) and scratched his head. She noticed for the first time how red his face was, but assumed it was due to his blood straining to get to the center of the Earth.
"Just… hanging." He answered, a quirk to his lips. Gwen couldn't suppress a snort. He looked a little chagrined at his pun, and continued in his stumbling way, "I, uh, I like to… to challenge my equilibrium. I don't know why. I'm still trying to figure out exactly how… I've changed, you know? I just like to be upside-down, I guess." He was so modest. Gwen felt a genuine smile gently blossoming. It wasn't much, but it felt like progress. Peter stared at her for a few seconds before something passed over his expression. It was so quick, she didn't have time to register the emotion behind it.
Suddenly, in one swift motion, he had unhooked his legs and performed a midair front flip, swiveling his body around to face her and landing firmly with both feet on the ground. Startled, Gwen cast her gaze around to see if anyone had noticed the act of inhuman agility. Thankfully, the park was not particularly populated, the only other occupants were mothers herding their kids.
"So…" Peter drew out, leaning nonchalantly against the tree. "What brings you here?" She looked back at him with wide eyes, trying to control the flutter in her chest. The wind blew her straw-like hair into her face, making her regret not putting it up in a pony-tail, or at least holding it back with her black headband.
"To be honest," Gwen said rather breathlessly, impatiently tucking her hair behind her ear, "I had no idea you'd be here." She pulled out her book as proof. He stared at it in mild surprise.
"Oh." Peter replied flatly, bowing his head just enough that his hair flopped over his eyes.
"But I'm glad to have caught you." She hastened to add, dropping the book and the bag at her feet. She straightened, trying to fix a casual smile over her sympathy. "How are you doing?" She asked. Peter sighed, keeping his head down and scuffing his sneaker in the dirt.
"Don't…" He shook his head as he stumbled over the words. "Don't do this, Gwen." She bristled at his tone, equal parts fatalistic and pitying.
"The polite response is 'No Gwen, how are you?'" She countered hotly, sarcasm dripping from her words. She could feel a lump forming in her throat and laughed derisively at herself. "I mean, come on, I lost my father, my mentor, and my boyfriend all in one fell swoop." He flinched at her accusation, and his head shook again. She plowed on mercilessly. "I could really use a friend right now, Peter, don't you think?" He took a deep breath to steady himself.
"I can't be your friend." He said, with such shocking definitiveness it hurt like a palpable blow to her stomach. Gwen slumped at this grim pronouncement, curling in on herself protectively. She wished he would look at her; she wanted to see the lie in his eyes. She fell back on her greatest tool: rationality.
"I get that Dad made you promise not to be with me, and as much as I hate that he's posthumously controlling my life, I can understand why you're following his orders. But, right now, all I'm asking is that you talk to me!" Her plea got his attention, and he glanced up at her. Gwen held his gaze. "Is that unreasonable?" She demanded, but softer this time. His eyes were damp, but… he wasn't lying. There was resolve there, shimmering behind the pain.
"I can't… I can't be your friend." Peter repeated, voice strained. He crossed his arms tightly, almost hugging himself. He was biting his lip, and his pained expression reminded her of that day on his porch, when he ended things. "I'm, I, I like you too much." He professed, averting his gaze again. Gwen blinked rapidly at the illogic of his statement.
"What?" She asked incredulously. Peter shrugged stiffly, one foot tapping anxiously.
"Yeah, I mean…" He swallowed. "I know what it's like to kiss you, h-how…" He shook his head vigorously as he stuttered. "How am I supposed to keep my promise if, i-if I'm always wanting more? I can't, I know I can't." Gwen watched him sadly, unable to comprehend his reasoning.
"I want you, too." She whispered in yearning. It was so quiet, a normal person probably wouldn't have heard it. But Peter Parker was not normal. Moved by her simple declaration, he brought a hand up to cover his mouth.
"I'm sorry," He said, his already quiet voice muffled, "I-I can't." He turned his back to her, and before she could stop him, he had scampered up the tree on all fours. Gwen huffed in frustration, her bangs flying up in protest. Finding no alternative, she picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. Having lost her desire for reading by sunlight, she started down the path back to the street. Several steps away, she looked over her shoulder. There was no sign of him but she knew he was still in the tree.
"We could've been something amazing, Peter." She told him somberly. "I hope you know that." There was no reply but the faint rustling of leaves.
Gwen's therapist was completely wrong.
She supposed she couldn't blame the good doctor. She wasn't exactly being forthright. She couldn't bring herself to tell the whole truth because she could never betray secrets that weren't her own. So the therapist was working from an incomplete puzzle.
Gwen had cried as she related to the doctor how she lost her almost-boyfriend the day of her father's funeral. She never mentioned the exact cause and effect nature of the two events, and the therapist accepted her explanation that Peter couldn't deal with her problems in addition to his. Having handed her a tissue to dry her eyes, the therapist leaned back and proceeded to explain Gwen's feelings to her.
Apparently, explained the doctor, she had linked the two losses in her mind. She couldn't bring her father back, so she devoted her energy to repairing her relationship with Peter when she ought to be mourning. She was irrationally desperate to be back with him "despite it only being a high school fling" and therefore not nearly as important as her feelings for her father. Gwen had pursed her lips and pretended to be overcome by tears rather than anger.
Peter wasn't a passing thing. He wasn't just a guy she had a crush on. He wasn't simply an outlet for misguided emotion. He was this amazing person with so much strength, so much kindness, so much goodness, that she couldn't help but love him.
Therein lied the crux of her problem.
Gwen held a red solo cup close to her chest, desperately trying to navigate the stairs without spilling it. Her uneven equilibrium was not helped by the people sitting pellmell on the steps she was trying to descend, uncaring of her objective. Once she reached the second landing, she decided to give up on trying to make it all the way down. Gwen leaned against the banister that looked out over Flash's large living room. She smiled indulgently. Her peers were packed tightly together in one thrashing mob, dancing to the music their host had chosen. She watched the amorphous blob undulate to the beat, the overwhelming and consistent noise seeming to take hold of their faculties. Though that was probably due more to the alcohol Flash's older brother had supplied.
Gwen was feeling pleasantly buzzed, something she attributed to the spiked punch in her cup and the atmosphere of willful abandon. She didn't usually like these kinds of parties; she didn't like the feeling of losing control, especially with her father's many stories of the horrific outcomes of such gatherings. But lately she was tired of listening to her father's wishes. She was tired of being obedient little Gwen, with the good grades and sedate fun. She was allowed to let loose once in a while, right? It wasn't going to kill her, anyway.
Maybe she didn't care if it did.
She closed her eyes, feeling the music wash over her with the steady persistence of the tides. She lowered her head as her upper body slowly slumped over the railing. It was so peaceful, giving up her resistance, letting gravity take over. Her ponytail flopped over her face.
"Gwen!" Her name was accompanied with a warm hand on her shoulder, it's grip tight as it prevented her from slipping further. Feeling the uncomfortable prick of annoyance, Gwen straightened. She immediately regretted her action as her head protested. Swaying slightly, she felt another hand go to her waist. "Gwen, are you okay?" The voice asked with an urgency she couldn't understand. She blinked her eyes open as her vision cleared. The face in front of her gradually formed into someone familiar. Peter. Gwen took a step back, and the hand on her waist fell away.
"I'm fine." She said quickly, narrowing her eyes at the hand still on her shoulder. It didn't budge.
"What are you doing here?" Peter demanded, trying to keep his voice down while still being heard over the music. Gwen found herself more easily offended than she would be completely sober.
"I was invited." She snapped, gesturing with her cup. Peter watched it carefully. "Is that not allowed?" She continued sarcastically. "Is there some other dying wish forbidding me from having fun that I don't know about? Or is this the pera-perogative of New York's favorite superhero?" With astounding speed, Peter's hand ran down her arm to grip above her elbow. He yanked her, just a little too hard, and began guiding her down the stairs. "Hey!" Gwen exclaimed, throwing her arm out to steady herself and spilling her drink on a nearby amorous couple.
"You're drunk." Peter said, quietly but firmly. "I'm getting you out of here." She opened her mouth to retort, but was forestalled by the arrival of someone at the landing.
"Hey Parker!" She heard Peter groan beside her as they came to a stop.
"Not now, Flash." He muttered, not releasing her arm. The jock stood at the bottom of the steps, giving the (deceptively) smaller teen a harsh look. Flash crossed his arms over his muscly chest, eyes narrowing on Peter's white-knuckled hold on her.
"Yeah, I can see that." He said warily. He nodded at Gwen. "This guy bothering you, teach'?" She smiled, at ease with the nickname he had given her during their tutoring sessions. She handed him her empty cup, patting him on his bicep fondly. She picked at Peter's fingers which slackened instantly.
"It's alright, Flash." Gwen told him confidently. She took Peter's hand in hers, making him look at her sharply in surprise. "We're just gonna have a little talk. We're overdue, after all." Flash grinned, cheekily and knowingly.
Even though school was out, and they therefore didn't have to stay in contact for tutoring, the two had become surprisingly close. He was a good listener, and didn't mind distracting her with silly teenage talk when things became too much. They'd had many conversations about her brief flirtation with Peter and her feelings following its conclusion. Flash was very supportive, teasing her in a way she didn't find annoying. He legitimately wanted things to work out for his former victim and favorite teacher. She could see the thoughts going through his head clear as day.
"Sure thing." He pointed a thumb over his shoulder, still with that lecherous gleam in his eye. "You can go out in the backyard, should be easier to, uh, talk." Gwen raised a gently chiding eyebrow at his insinuation, but pulled Peter past him and out into the yard.
Dropping his hand as soon as they were through the sliding glass door, they stepped out onto the wooden deck. Straightaway, the noise died down. The night air was very cool, sobering like a slap in the face, and Gwen wished she'd brought a sweater to wear over her flimsy tank top. At least she was never without her thigh-high boots. Flash had a nice yard, considering he lived in a brownstone. It was narrow, but still spacious and well-manicured.
Gwen glanced at her companion from the corner of her eye. Peter was twitchy, agitated, and was avoiding looking at her. He wore a black sweatshirt with the hood down and some old blue jeans over his nikes. She wondered if he had his spandex costume on underneath. Even through the bulky clothes, she could tell that he'd lost weight, a bad sign considering he'd been lean to begin with. He looked good, but then she was biased, incredibly so. Feeling the need for space, she went down the steps to lean against the fence, wrapping her arms around herself. Peter stayed on the deck, still not meeting her eyes.
"So, you and Flash." He began, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "You guys are pretty close now." Gwen shrugged defensively, reading an accusation into his flat tone.
"He's nice." She murmured, knowing his super-senses would pick it up. "He's changed."
"Yeah," Peter broke in, keeping that same listlessness in his voice, "Yeah, you said he was at the funeral." She winced, both at the reminder of death that she was trying so hard to escape and the memory of her guilt-trip that day on his porch. She rubbed her arms against the chill.
"He was always a good guy under all that bluster. You know he wants to join the army?" She smiled a little at the irony. "Says he's inspired by all the heros running around lately." Peter chuckled, taking her reference to his alter-ego much better than earlier now that they were alone. He walked down the steps and went to stand on the other side of the yard, a good dozen feet or so between them.
"Yeah, there's no way I'm New York's favorite superhero." He drawled. "This City's had plenty." Gwen bowed her head, embarrassed about what she was about to reveal.
"You're my favorite." She confessed softly. "That's something, at least." There was a pause while she hesitated to meet his gaze. Once she gathered the courage to glance up, his serious stare rendered her unable to look away.
"That's everything." He told her honestly, the first hint of passion creeping into his inflection. Warmth bubbled in Gwen, rising to unbearable levels. Suddenly the night didn't seem so cold. She was sure her cheeks were burning. Possibly seeing this, Peter averted his eyes to look back at the house, where the party was still going strong without them. "So what are you doing here?" He asked again.
"Flash invited me." She answered simply. "Isn't that enough?"
"Yeah, but…" He dug his fists into his jean pockets. "It's not really your scene. At least, I didn't think it was."
"I could say the same to you." She retorted, mildly affronted. "Since when do you come out to wild parties?"
"Since I've been invited to them." He countered easily. "Besides, I'm not the one drinking. I don't want to run the chance of, well, having to rush off."
"Ah." Gwen nodded, inferring his meaning. Peter licked his lips, appearing torn.
"Look," He began haltingly, "I get what this is. You're upset, you-you're angry, you don't know how to deal, with, with everything, and…" He raked his hand through his hair. "A-and you're being stupid and reckless because you can, but it's not going to help, it wont make you feel good, it'll just make you feel stupid and reckless." Gwen gave a harsh laugh.
"What are you, my therapist?" She sneered. He looked back at her undaunted.
"Are you seeing a therapist?" He contended, stalling her momentarily. She searched for some way to respond to that loaded question, but was saved the trouble by the drastic increase in music.
"Hey Tiger, there you— Oh!" Gwen and Peter jumped as a girl their age emerged onto the deck and stopped in her tracks. Gwen studied the newcomer intently, this girl who had the gall to flirt with him so causally. She was a gorgeous red-head, with bright green eyes that shone even in the dark and a figure she didn't mind showing off with clinging wrap-tops and skinny jeans. She was casting wide-eyed glances back and forth from him to Gwen. Gwen turned her head to stare at Peter. He looked incredibly uncomfortable and was currently preoccupied with observing his feet. The three stood in a western-style standoff, no one moving for a very long time, the wind whispering between them. "Sorry!" The redhead said suddenly, startling Gwen again. "I'm interrupting, sorry. I'll go." Sending Peter an indecipherable look, she walked backwards and reentered the party, leaving them in silence once more. Peter didn't lift his head.
"Was that her?" Gwen asked, her stomach seeming to be full of stones. "Was that Mary? Your girlfriend?" He shook his head vigorously at her last question.
"No, no, she isn't, we're not—" But Gwen was in full swing now and was not to be preempted. She was too good of a debater.
"'Cause I've been wondering, Tiger," She said, using the same simpering tone as the other girl, "What exactly makes her different from me? What makes her worth all the danger?" She cut him off as he attempted to speak. "Don't you dare say that it's because I'm more important to you than her or anything and that's why you can date her, because that's the biggest messed up bull I've ever heard." He made a shushing gesture but she persisted. "Do you like her more than me? If that's it, that's fine, but have the decency to be honest with me. Or—" She swallowed the lump in her throat and plowed on before he could get more than a syllable in. "Or is it just easier to be with a girl who doesn't have her dead dad hanging over her head? Without some… deathbed decree to scare you off—"
"I'm not dating Mary Jane!" Peter finally yelled, throwing his arms out helplessly as he took a few agitated steps towards her. Gwen crossed her arms and tried to even her breathing. Apparently he was frustrated from not being able to get a word in edgewise, because he continued loudly, "Why— How could you even think that! We just, I mean, I still—" His voice dissolved into a strangled groan. He seemed unable to explain himself further than that, so Gwen grudgingly gave him the benefit of the doubt.
"Fine." She said curtly. "I believe you." Peter looked so relieved. "But then, what are you doing with her?" She pried, trying to maintain her dignity despite sounding like a scorned woman. It was so hard not to be jealous. The rumors were right; she was beautiful.
"She's a friend." He told her earnestly. "She's the one who dragged me here, actually. Aunt May introduced us. Okay, maybe she was trying to get me to date her, but MJ understood why I couldn't. We're…" His expressive face twisted into thought. "We're confidants," He declared after a moment of consideration, "Not lovers, er—" He cringed at the word for some reason. Gwen didn't know exactly why, so she dismissed it.
"Does she know?" She demanded insistently. At first, he looked uncomprehending, before he got her implication.
"No, no, of course not!" Peter denied vehemently. He crossed the distance between them, leaning against the fence next to her. Gwen angled her body to face him more fully. "I've realized it's too dangerous to let anyone else know about that. I'm not even going to tell Aunt May, at least not anytime soon." He turned his serious gaze inward. "This secret, it doesn't set anything free. All it does is put people in danger. I can't keep doing that to the people that matter, not at any cost." Gwen gently laid her hand on his arm, snapping him out of his musings. He glanced at it, then to her sympathetic expression.
"You shouldn't have to go through this alone." She said, squeezing his forearm in support. He smiled at her, subdued but sincere. They were closer together than was considered polite, but neither were inclined to back away.
"I shouldn't," He conceded, matching her murmur, "But I have to." Gwen, deciding then and there to blame any subsequent actions on the alcohol, rocked forward on her toes, her hand sliding up his arm as she leaned forward. Peter didn't pull away. Quite the contrary, he angled his head to fit hers. Their lips were a hair's breadth away from touching, both of them recalling that night in her room, the fission created by leaving that scant space between them. It was a delicate dance, or maybe it was another standoff, each party waiting for the other to capitulate and close the distance. Gwen drew in a sharp breath through her nose, taking in his heady scent.
"I've missed you." She whispered, her mouth brushing against his as she spoke, each connection sparking like a fuse. Peter sighed, his breath mingling with hers, and tension she hadn't realized he'd been holding drained away, leaving him limp and languid.
"You have no idea." He said, and for one beautiful, glorious second, he breached that gap and met her in a kiss. A jolt of sound broke them apart before Gwen's eyes could even fall shut. Peter took a hasty step back, fumbling in the pocket of his sweatshirt. She turned away, folding her arms on the fence and resting her chin there. She recognized that noise, that static as the radio picked up a frequency. It was a police scanner, like the radio her dad had kept close to him at all times.
Through the crackle they heard, "Suspect armed and dangerous… carrying assault rifle… fleeing scene… execution style… suspected connection to Maggia gangsters… send all available vehicles." Peter flew into a flurry of motion, stuffing the scanner back into his pocket and surveying the area.
"I've gotta—"
"Go, yeah." Gwen interrupted him tiredly. She nodded to the fence. "They can still see you from the house, don't change 'til you've jumped over." Without looking at him, she turned and walked back towards the party.
"Gwen!" He called, and she understood his warning from the single syllable. He was still worried about her. He didn't want her to keep drinking, to do something stupid she couldn't undo. She glanced back at him.
"You gonna stop me?" She challenged. "Or do you have bigger fish to fry?" He was watching her regretfully, and again she could read him perfectly. He wanted her to know that he was sorry, that he wished things were different. But this was one thing she couldn't fault him for. So she smiled tightly, trying to assuage his guilt. "I'll see you around, Peter." She turned around and kept walking, hearing the light thump of someone landing on the other side of the fence.
Stalking is a complicated term.
Contrary to her flippant farewell, Gwen didn't see him again for weeks. Mutual friends and people clued in to the teenage gossip scene like Flash kept her updated about him, but it wasn't enough. Once or twice she sought him out, but she suspected he'd gone back to avoiding her. Peter Parker remained elusive, so she turned her attentions to his other persona.
Gwen began to leave her window open every night. She told her eldest brother when he asked why that she liked the summer's breeze. It wasn't a total lie. When no unexpected visitors appeared, she started reading on the fire escape with a flashlight. Soon she had a radio and several pillows out there as well. It was more comfortable, but God forbid there be an actual fire because she would be toast. Still, no masked men stopped by for a chat.
She watched the local news whenever she could. It payed off every week or so with a live feed of the vigilante fighting off some crook. Her brothers teased her about her 'crush' on the superhero, but they would watch avidly along with her as he fought spectacularly with the villain of the day. And they weren't alone. There was a reason the media always cut to his battles; people loved him. Spider-Man was a star.
But there came a time when shaky camera footage wasn't enough. She wasn't content with seeing only the mask, like the rest of them. She needed the real thing. So, Gwen did what any self-respecting woman in her position would do.
She stalked him.
"All units be advised, the vigilante known as Spider-Man is engaged with the Green Goblin at Union Square. Goblin is armed with explosive devices. Crowd control is needed, repeat, crowd control is—" Gwen turned off the radio as she tore around a corner, emerging onto the south side of the small park.
Her father's radio was reliable; she could hear the sounds of a battle echoing towards her. As she'd become accustomed to lately, she ran towards the danger. She was not alone. This City was full of people without enough common sense. There was already a throng of people straining against hastily constructed blue police barricades. Gwen fought to reach the front of the mass. An explosion racked the park, and in the distance, on the north side of the square, she could make out the figures of hero and villain fighting in the air. The Green Goblin flew on his hoverboard, cutting through the night sky. His counterpart, his color scheme almost the exact opposite, swung past him, effortlessly dodging projectiles. She watched him with a sense of peace, hardly caring that bombs flew above her head.
His movements were as fluid as ever and he remained mostly on the defensive. By continually shooting and severing the webbing as he soared between buildings, he was essentially gliding in circles above the park. Gwen felt the telltale admiration welling in her chest, a testament to the resiliency of her feelings for him. In what seemed like no time at all, the fight moved across the square and towards her little area of gawkers. Their voices became audible. The Green Goblin was mostly unintelligible, consumed by unhinged cackling. Spider-Man was throwing his characteristic sarcastic jibes, sounding utterly unconcerned by his opponent's madness.
"Didn't you hear?" He called, swinging from a lamp post towards a Starbucks. "I'm New York's favorite superhero! Who do you think you're kidding there?" The crowd erupted into cheers of support, as Gwen smiled to herself. "Go have yourself an Incredible Sulk!" Several people laughed but they were quickly silenced as the Goblin launched a round of grenade-like 'pumpkin bombs' towards them. Peter tried to capture them in web, but the explosions burned through the silk. At least he prevented them from falling close enough to burn the crowd. Relieved chatter broke out, and some of the more sensible left the immediate area, scattering to nearby stores and restaurants to watch from there.
Gwen was vaguely considering finding some cover herself, when her eyes landed on an arresting sight. There was a human form huddled on a bench by the fountain at the outskirts of the park. They were wrapped in a large overcoat, even though it was summer. Homeless, she assumed. Gwen assessed the situation. The bombs were falling nearer to the ground every time, scattering around the perimeter of the square. Peter had his hands full deflecting the Goblin's attacks and defending the civilians. From his vantage point he probably couldn't even see this person in the line of fire. Recklessness and resolve became one, and Gwen ducked under the barricade and sprinted towards the fountain. Another explosion rocked the park and she instinctively covered her head with her arms. Her pace didn't slow until she reached the bench.
"Hey!" She shouted, shaking the curled up figure vigorously. "Hey come on, you've gotta get out of here!" There was little resistance as she grabbed the person by the shoulders and pulled them into an upright position. Now that she could see their face, Gwen realized it was a woman, maybe five years older than her. The woman's eyes were open but vacant, from drugs or lack of food she couldn't say. Another loud boom made both women jump. "Can you walk?" She asked, tempering her urgency with tenderness. Slowly, the woman nodded. "Then go." She pointed towards the street, where an ambulance had just pulled up with a police escort. The woman left in that direction without saying a word.
Gwen let out a sigh of relief that turned into a strangled scream as someone grabbed her around her middle. In the blink of an eye she was in the air, the buildings blurring past. She felt sick as her stomach contents swooped out of sync with the rest of her. She chanced a look down, ignoring the ground so far below her to inspect the red spandex clad arm securely wrapped around her ribs. Her fear melted into irritation.
"What the hell were you doing out there?" Peter's voice demanded right behind her ear. She turned to face him, scowling at the impersonal mask. At least looking at him was dizzying in a different sense.
"Saving a woman's life." She retorted indignantly. "Isn't that supposed to be your job?" They landed roughly shortly after her sarcastic jab. Gwen pushed herself out of his hold and looked around while she got her bearings. They were in an alleyway, behind some dumpsters, and while the sounds of havoc were more muted, they couldn't be more than a couple blocks away. Spider-Man looked well and truly peeved, though someone who hadn't seen below the costume probably wouldn't see it.
"He'd seen you! He woulda started targeting you in a few more—" His tirade was cut off as the Green Goblin's voice interrupted them, amplified over a distance.
"The itsy-bitsy spider crawled up the water spout!" Gwen felt chills at the deranged sing-song tone. The taunt seemed to have brought order to Peter's mind.
"Look," He began matter-of-factly, "I don't have time to argue and I certainly don't have time to treat you nicely." She barely had time to register that statement before he'd lifted her by the collar of her jacket. Gwen let out an ungainly squawk of surprise as her back collided with the concrete wall.
"Hey!" She exclaimed. Before she could protest further, Peter started applying quick bursts of webbing to her arms, legs, and torso. She could feel the silk solidifying around her in seconds. It took much less web than she'd imagined to bind her to the wall, but then she'd only witnessed him restraining the Lizard and she was far weaker than he'd been. Peter stepped back to survey his work, and after a moment of struggling Gwen pinned him with a scathing look. "Ethics much!" She yelled in outrage. He shrugged unrepentantly.
"I'm sorry, but again, short on time." As if to prove his point there was another bout of bombings. The Goblin's voice rang out over the explosions, punctuating his gleeful tone.
"Down came the rain and washed the spider out!" Peter growled in frustration and jumped several feet off the ground to grab hold of the ladder on a nearby fire escape. Gwen watched him prepare to depart and let out a heavy sigh. He paused, looking down at her, expression unreadable behind the mask.
"I promise," He told her seriously, "I'll come back." Knowing it was all she could ask from him at this point, she nodded. In a flash he was out of her field of vision as he scaled the wrought iron with ease. Gwen strained against the thin bands that held her in place. Intellectually, she knew it was inescapable, the strands crossed each other at precise intervals to maximize their strength and weight-bearing capabilities, rendering a normal human completely incapacitated. On an instinctual level, she couldn't stop thrashing against this frustratingly deceptive substance. The surreal resemblance to her recurring dream was not lost on her.
As the sounds of the battle dragged on, she slumped against the wall, reduced to sporadic fidgeting. It was taking longer than she'd hoped, or maybe it just felt that way. She could make out most of what the Green Goblin was ranting, but Peter's responses were lost to her. She noticed a couple helicopters buzzing by overhead, though she suspected they were from the media rather than the police force. This new regime of police had a hands-off approach to dealing with Spider-Man: they protected the civilians but let him fend for himself, and were not inclined to expend valuable resources against his personal enemies. At least they didn't shoot him anymore.
She almost didn't notice when the explosions ceased. She finally did startle when she felt the silence settling over the streets. The night wasn't just devoid of bombs, but of rescue vehicles, crowds, even cars. It must've been a while since the commotion died down. Peter hadn't come back yet. Gwen was just beginning to feel the stirrings of worry when a figure cast a long shadow down the alley. She craned her neck to see his unmistakable outline leaning with one arm braced on the side of the alley's entrance. She almost called his name out in relief, but managed to restrain herself. He trudged down the alley, movements unusually stiff and jerky. Without a word, he started to pull the webs off her with ease. After a moment of untangling, Gwen fell to her feet. He didn't offer support as she steadied herself against the wall. She shot him a narrowed glare as she rubbed her wrists begrudgingly.
"I've been wriggling in this thing for ages now and you swoop in and pick it apart like tinsel and tissue paper. Very impressive, Spider-Man." At her caustic use of his alias, Peter seemed finally driven to speak.
"What is wrong with you?" He shouted suddenly. She reared back affronted as he ranted loudly. "Are you crazy? You're crazy, aren't you!" He pointed at her and took a couple aggressive steps forward. "This is the third time you've done something like this and I know you're not stupid!" Gwen crossed her arms and cocked her head.
"Says the guy who gets his jollies swinging through the city by a thread!"
"Great," He continued, ignoring her retort, "Of all the chicks I could fallen for I had to pick someone maladjusted to the point of suicide!"
"Oh boohoo!" She mocked crossly, stepping towards him and tilting her chin up defiantly. "You're not exactly the picture of mental stability here mister, but I still fell for you!" He shook his head in exasperation.
"Are you going to pull this shit no matter what I do?" He asked incredulously.
"Yes." She stated with absolute certainty. Peter growled, and in one swift move he ripped off his mask, grabbed her by the face, and kissed her. Gwen gasped into his mouth but did not hesitate to reciprocate.
She pushed back enthusiastically, her arms encircling his neck as she pulled them closer together. It was a rough game of give and take, an outlet for pent up emotion. They kissed deeply and heatedly, with tongues and teeth. She let out a keening little whimper of longing. It reminded her so much of that first breathtaking kiss of revelation on her roof. He tasted the same, his hair slipping through her fingers felt the same, and his hands gliding from her cheeks down her sides to rest on her hips affected her exactly the same way. Gwen broke away with a shuddering breath, resting her forehead against his. She opened her eyes to look into earnest brown counterparts.
"Now who's being reckless?" She said in a raspy whisper. Peter grinned, his whole face lighting up with honest joy. His arms tightened around her waist, keeping her from moving away even if she'd wanted to.
"I'm a teenager," He told her with affected confidence, "And I'd much rather be a slave to hormones than the mask." She couldn't help it; she threw her head back and laughed. Peter's smile dimmed as he winced, chagrined. "That was lame, right?" He said sheepishly as she calmed down. He shook his head, disappointed with himself. "I shoulda spent more time rehearsing that for my mirror."
"Yeah, you shoulda." She agreed, matching his tone. A sobering thought occurred to her. "So what changed your mind?" Gwen inquired, watching him carefully. Apparently Peter wasn't ready to speak seriously yet.
"Many lonely sleepless nights." He joked exaggeratedly. She chuckled indulgently even as she shook him gently by the shoulders.
"Seriously!" She insisted, her smile falling into a frown. "Just two months ago you wouldn't even speak to me. What's different now?" Peter's eyelids fell to half-mast as he too was sobered by the memory of his actions. His hands rubbed soothing circles on her back.
"Nothing." He said softly. "Absolutely nothing. That's the problem." She blinked in confusion as she tried to understand.
"What do you mean?" Gwen asked, loosening her grip on him. Her mind was spinning with worst case scenarios. Was he trying to tell her he still couldn't be with her? His feelings really hadn't changed? Was this what she was reduced to, passionate kisses in dirty back alleys with a man who didn't love her? Peter removed one of his arms, scratching the back of his neck as he awkwardly tried to explain.
"I kept expecting, hoping really," He amended self-deprecatingly, "To miss you less, to move on and gradually accept not having you." He shrugged as he apologized without cause. "But it never happened." Gwen smiled, her worries dispersing, leaving her only with relief.
"For such a smart guy, you're an idiot, Parker." She told him fondly. He laughed, and she took comfort in the sound.
"While you have such a low opinion of me," He began, and she became suspicious at his teasing tone, "Can I just say: your dead dad's a dick." Her mouth fell open in shock, and Gwen stepped out of his loose hold and punched him in the chest. Peter looked on unfazed as she winced.
"Ow." She said flatly as she shook out her smarting knuckles. The corners of his mouth quirked up as he struggled not to laugh.
"Pretty sure that hurt you more than it hurt me." He surmised, and she glared good-naturedly at his smug expression.
"Oh shut up." She grumbled. Peter gently took her injured hand in his.
"Here." He kissed her knuckles daintily. "All better." He announced tenderly. Gwen sighed, both at his sweetness and the truth they both needed to face.
"It's not always going to be that easy, Peter." She said, and he looked up at her grim pronouncement. She slowly slid her hand out of his. "Things will be difficult. I need to know you won't run away the first time I'm in danger or things get tough." He grinned unabashedly.
"Now that's a promise I can keep." He asserted cheerfully. "Really." He maintained at her skeptical look. Peter put both hands on her shoulders, holding her securely. "I can be selfish, I can go against my better judgement, but only if I have you as the payoff." Gwen smiled to herself, already prepared to believe him. She placed her hands on his chest, fingers idly tracing the insignia on his costume.
"That's very good to hear," She said lightly, gaze flicking up to meet his, "Because I love you." She had envisioned many scenarios for how he might react after her admission. Instead of freaking out as Gwen had expected, Peter sighed. His eyes closed as his forehead rested on hers again.
"You have no idea how happy I am that you said it first." Gwen was about to shout at him again for leading her on, tell him that wasn't the way a mature relationship worked, when he kissed her again. Resigned to always melt into his embrace, no matter what stupidity she had to forgive him for, she returned the caress. This kiss was unique; they moved languidly and lovingly. Peter smiled against her lips, and whispered, "I love you, too."
Feeling extraordinarily content, she murmured back, "You dork." He moved away, breaking their embrace and allowing her to see his carefree grin. Bending over he picked up his mask from where he'd thrown it unceremoniously to the ground.
"Come on," He said to her, a familiar light returned to his eyes, "This dork wants to get outta here." He made to put his mask back on, but she stopped him by covering it in her hand. Taking it from him, she dusted it off carefully. As he watched intently, she slowly slipped it over his head, tugging it down gently. Before it could cover his mouth, she darted in and gave him one last peck. Grinning smugly, she smoothed the finished product down with her fingers.
"I'm with you, Bugboy." She announced. Peter laughed, slightly muffled but still lovely. He tugged her closer with one arm and tied her waist to his with web from his other hand. They stood staring at each other for a moment, both reveling in the warmth and affection they'd denied themselves for too long. Gwen hugged herself to him tightly as together they looked up into the dark sky. With a well-aimed shot and a running start, Spider-Man and his girlfriend had disappeared into the night.
I couldn't resist. I loved this movie so much. I needed a happy ending for these two, one that felt natural to me. The title comes from a conversation I had with my mom. We were talking about whether Peter should break his promise to be with Gwen, when I pointed out that we weren't rooting for him to break an oath, but for her to convince him through Womanly Persuasion.
Hope you liked it,
Laury.
UPDATE: I took out this bit that I forgot to remove. I'd changed this story not too long after its completion by removing an entire chunk. I accidentally left in a allusion to that missing piece. I can't believe no one called me out on the complete nonsequitor, but I feel embarrassed all the same. I swear I proof read about a dozen times, but it's so long!
I've completed the companion piece from Peter's Point of View. So go check out Manly Resolve :)