Disclaimer:

I do not own any character herein depicted, Spider-man and all related characters are property of Marvel/Disney.

This fan-fiction is written by SmoothlyDiF and carries DeviantArt's and/or 's usual Creative Commons license.

This story has a mature rating due to sexual content, use of the naughty swears and peculiar violence unsuitable for minors.

Personal note: this may not be everybody's cup of tea and I apologise in advance if the structure reads confusingly, but it's something I've wanted to write for some time now and hopefully you will get something out of it, feedback as always is greatly appreciated.

SmoothlyDiF

Chapter 1

It was reaching that moment when the sun's descent into the horizon takes all the heat of the day with it and the shadows creep over New York, bringing with them the types that revel in the darkness. For Peter Parker, Spider-Man, this was when the fun began, when the monotony of the day job was replaced by the thrill of the moonlight shift, tensile noir spandex and all.

With an uncomfortable twitch that momentarily disoriented him, the crime-fighting vigilante got the chilling sense of an attack in progress, releasing a web-line to land with poise on the lip of a roof. He glanced down into an alley illuminated by the falling sun, a panicked young woman backing away from two shady-looking individuals coming towards her with menace.

"Seems the good people of New York never learn..." Spider-Man muttered to himself, shrugging his eyelids, "Ah well!" With an artful front flip, he descended into the fray, webs cast and distraction caused before he'd even landed.

"The hell is this stuff!?" panicked a gravely voice, turning to the fourth player entering the scene.

"It's 'Spidey's own brand silly-string'! Sticky, ain't it?" Peter quipped, leaping from his crouched position towards the would-be assailants.

The two small-time thugs wore expressions of despair as the lightning-strike quick man grabbed their wrists and seemingly effortlessly held them in place.

"Now are you gonna play nice or do I have to take your toys away?" Spider-Man asked, giving a little squeeze to illustrate his point.

"Alright, alright!" a second, female voice accepted defeat, "We don't want no trouble, we're just hard up. Right, Larry?" Peter listened as they both dropped their weapons.

"Shut up, bae! Now he knows who I am!"

"I don't think he cares who y'are, bae!" She replied sarcastically, Peter smiling to himself at the comical situation.

"Look, are-" He began, but found himelf cut off.

"You always gotta do this!" 'Larry' accused, they now facing one-another despite Spidey's grip.

"Ughh!" He groaned, letting go, "Just... get outta here and stop mugging people!" With some surprise and yet a sudden drive, the two turned and ran without their weapons. "I don't have the patience to-"

"Aren't you going to arrest them or something!?" Spider-Man span to the would-be muggee as she exclaimed this, his tongue suddenly dry and his wit gone as the red-headed sillhouette of the woman brought an all too tangible sense of deja-vu.

"I- uh..." He just muttered stupidly, his eyes focusing in the low orange sun. His mind played tricks, telling him it was her, that it was just like the first time, just like when they met!

"Hhh, never mind... thanks for saving me, Spider-Man!" She got close enough that the stunned Super-hero could get a fix on her facial features and exhale a heavy sigh of dissapointment-cum-relief.

Relief etched on her face, the woman nodded and smiled. "Yah... sure, no problem!" He scratched the back of his neck in an awkward twitch and found himself alone as she walked away.

Alone... with that gut-wrenching sense of void left behind in Mary-Jane Watson's wake. As he imagined her, that whole situation came flooding back, when he first met the girl of his dreams:

"Peter!" A younger, spottier, not-at-all super-powered Peter Parker heard from downstairs. He dragged himself from his bed with a sigh, walking to the top of the stairs to see his uncle staring straight back up at him.

"Yeah, Uncle Ben?" He asked wearily, his face a picture of disregard and disrespect, a little drained and bleached from too many hours staring at the TV, hidden from the sun.

"You coming down here, kiddo? Mary-Jane'll be here soon, remember? For the date your Aunt set up for you?" The ever calm, reassuring voice of the late middle-aged man was - as always - spoken with the experience he'd gained of speaking to the teenaged recluse.

With slumped shoulders and a bobbing head, the orphaned Parker boy descended the stairs; like a sulking child trying to prove a point to his parents, he heaved heavily "I told Aunt May, I don't wanna go on a blind date." Ben Parker smirked and rolled his eyes.

"Oh right, because 'it's like a lottery', right?" He asked rhetorically, "Hate to tell you this, kiddo, but you might not be the jackpot. Poor girl..." His jabbed with his usual style of unrelenting banter. Peter continued to slither down the stairs like a half-asleep cat not getting a feeling for the task at hand and huffed as if he'd not heard it.

Ben Parker turned and left the foot of the stairs with a shrug, returning to whatever he was doing: Peter imagined that meant smoking his pipe and reading the paper how he thought all 'old people' do.

The teen stopped at the foot of the stairs by the door and looked at himself in the mirror; he quietly gee'd himself up and tossed his mid-length hair out of his eyes. He thought he looked alright: his best t-shirt (one food stain is passable, right?) baggy jeans and barely noticeable rings around his eyes. Why did he have to look alright, anyway? Girls don't care what guys look like... at least that's what he'd always been led to believe.

Lost in thought, he didn't notice the shadow flash through the etched windows by the door, getting a start when the doorbell rang next to him. He calmed himself and turned to open it, just as his low-flying 'Aunt May', ever-energetic, appeared and beat him to it. She swung the door open as if oblivious to him, pushing Peter back and beamed at the person beyond.

"Mary-Jane! Lovely to see you again!" Peter righted himself as May pulled her hand off the door-handle and turned to him, "Peter, this is Mary-Jane Watson!" He stuck his head around the door reluctantly, almost using it as a barrier between himself and the date he didn't want to have to spend the evening with.

"H... i?" He stammered, his lean flowing into an off-balance stumble out from behind cover, "-Hi!" He finished, jaw already disconnecting from his face.

There she stood, a silhouette in front of the sun in a halo of deep orange light, her radiant flame hair framing a face that shaped so as to say 'I'm scrutinising you!' The teenage male (and he recalled all this with a face-palm) just blathered a few nonsensical consonants and stared, helpless as a drowning kitten at everything he shouldn't. The young woman must have seen it all, but just slouched a little more and cracked a smile.

"Face it, Tiger..." Mary-Jane said, drawing his attention further north, "You just hit the Jackpot!"

Mary-Jane twirled a lock of hair between her fingers, three years older and sitting cross-legged on her bed. She enjoyed having her own place, it gave her privacy and enough 'me-time' to get by, even if there were things about the place that were less than desirable; she enjoyed having as much free time as she did and not having her family around to annoy her; most of all though: she loved this programme!

MJ's addiction to TV was a new thing and she wondered why she hadn't made more time for it in the past: there were so many dramatic stories and overexaggerated characters, all kinds of crazy things she just didn't see enough of in the real world. When she'd taken the time, the brainwash-box had turned her into a total junkie.

"Oh come on, you're just being a dick!" She protested, gesticulating at the TV in the corner and scowling at it. Talking to the TV wasn't quite such a new thing, that one she'd picked up from the family (her dad, more accurately, holding one-way conversations with radio hosts) on their regular trips cross-country as she was growing up.

Mary-Jane exhaled heavily and crossly as she flicked the set off and slumped back against the cold wall. There she sat for a moment and looked about the cramped room; she wondered how she'd come to be here and thought back to her childhood and the things that had shaped her:

"But daaad! Why are we leaving again?" A younger, scraggly-haired MJ protested as her clearly focused father packed her suitcase into the back of the car.

"Because we are, Mary-Jane!" He answered without answering. She pouted, they'd only been here a matter of weeks and she'd only just really started making friends again.

"But-"

"Mary-Jane, don't answer your father back!" Her other parent cut in, exiting the house they'd barely made a home, "Get in the car." She ordered, not taking a moment to consider the young teen's feelings or reaction.

MJ thought how unfair it was, that she couldn't even say goodbye to her friends, that she had no idea where they were going or why! "This keeps happening, it's not fair." She protested quietly, but her dad heard her.

"Get in the car, MJ! I won't tell you again!" he barked angrily, slamming his hand on the car roof.

She needn't have bothered and knew it, it never got her anywhere arguing the point, it was all an inevitable, recurring nightmare. She grumpily peeled off the wall she'd slouched against and frogmarched over to the vehicle, chuntering about being a slave as her anger for her parents frothed beneath the surface.

They pulled away with all her scant posessions on-board, the redhead watching studiously out of the window while she silently wished her home goodbye. She didn't say a word, that would just get her into trouble, as if that was anything new! She slumped back with heavy shoulders and disapproving body language, her older sister, Gayle, looked at her but paid her no mind.

Mary-Jane thought her sister stupid, weak and spoilt: never getting into trouble, just quietly letting it all fall on the younger Watson daughter. Her dad would calm down, maybe tell her where they were going later, but-

MJ sat up with a start, "Dad, stop! That's Becky!" She ordered aloud, seeing her best friend as they travelled on.

"No, MJ, we don't have time." He calmly but firmly replied, glancing in the mirror at her.

"Dad, I want to say goodbye! Please dad! Pl-" She was cut off as he snapped and punched the steering wheel.

"No, Mary-Jane!" He shouted, reaching over the side of the driver's seat and threateningly gesturing, "Why do you have to be so god-damn difficult!?" His face was a picture of rage, even as he inhaled deeply and turned back to the road.

Mary-Jane Watson watched her new-old best friend vanish behind the car and once again felt another bit of her life vanish, sinking back into her chair. The shouting hurt, the losing her friends without even saying goodbye hurt, everything seemed to hurt but Mary-Jane refused tears and self-pity: She would start again, make her mark all over again whatever it took!

It was always like this; Phillip Watson was a self-obsessed man, a self-proclaimed screenwriting and literary virtuoso who was utterly obsessed with his career. If he had to uproot his whole family and drag them across the country to further his own ambitions he'd do just that; to his chagrin he never found in anyone except his wife Maddie the kind of respect he felt he deserved, despite his own selfish treatment of his family.

Mary-Jane had got used to this, to moving every few months and starting all over again; she was starting to get extremely good at quickly making new friends and enemies to fill the void left by never having a solid social life.

Arriving in a new town, setting up shop in a new school she'd be the talk of the place inside a week and the most popular girl around inside a month, she always was, regardless of whether or not it was for all the wrong reasons.

She felt quite sure her mom hated her, while her sister had no time for her or anyone else: a total hermit of a young woman as she was. While dad wasn't interested in having a family for any more than show, Madeline had tried her best for years to create something like normality for the nomadic Watsons.

This often meant that when Mary-Jane got into trouble, it was her mom who would have to pick up the pieces and MJ had a knack of getting into lots of trouble! The feeling at least was mutual, the youngest of the family thought her Mother was a horrible person, always shouting or drinking, she was someone MJ swore she wouldn't turn out like: a shell of a woman hollowed out by a dysfunctional family life and no personal ambition left to speak of.

Madeline lived through her husband and her husband, despite his arrogance, was an unqualified failure. She'd surrendered her dreams, she'd surrendered herself and become something utterly repulsive in the bright, judgmental eyes of her younger daughter and something alien in the eyes of the elder.

In the back seat of that uncomfortable car, more suited to making a big impression than fitting and transporting a family of four and all their belongings, Mary Jane Watson brooded on how much she hated all this, self-righteous and headstrong, she vowed to one day be free.

MJ recalled these episodes and feelings knowing what they grew into in the end; it wasn't her fault she mused, she'd far from had a perfect life! She grimaced on her bed and gritted her teeth, the past was painful, but was she any better off now?

Given what had happened, how she'd come to be free from her toxic family environment, had she really done better in life? Admittedly no... she hated them at times, but at least back then she had someone to bounce off, someone to shape herself around or rather against.

Mary Jane rolled over and stared into space, recently retrospective thinking seemed therapeutic; how times and people change, she thought, but not with great surprise. She smiled as she realised that today is the big day: finally she'll be going back to New York!

"I wonder how Mom and Gayle are doing?" She thought aloud, if they still hated her, if they'd let her back into their lives. She exhaled heavily, she would have to go see them, even if they weren't first on her list. "What do I even say to them?" MJ asked herself with a frown and thought back to when it all began to sour.