On The Moon
That first night with a new lover is spent learning about your new partner. It's an educational experience that is typically quite enjoyable, almost as much as the actual act itself. However, on this particular night, Peter Parker found himself overwhelmed with surprising and unsettling discoveries.
Felicia Hardy was not soft. After years of physical training all of her baby fat was gone, replaced with hard and lean muscle. Her calloused hands were rough and demanding, long nails digging into Peter's arms with a strength and fervor that he associated more with a fist fight than with love-making.
When his own fingers trailed up her neck, leaving goose bumps in their wake, he encountered her hair. It was short and dark, the locks spiked-up with sweat, pricking his hand like the spines of a porcupine. He was ashamed. He couldn't help but feel disappointed to find cold black instead of warm yellow.
He should have been happy. She was here with him after… after everything. Peter thought about his parents, who left him before he was old enough to even remember. He thought about his Uncle Ben, who died because of him. He thought of the burglar, his first kill in a moment full of blind rage.
Peter buried his face in her neck, wishing that it was all over.
He thought about Max Dillon, a cruel twist of fate had ruined his life and Spider-Man had done nothing but make it worse. He thought of the woman in his arms and how he had taken her own father away from her.
How could see want me after that?
She was muttering something, but Peter wasn't listening. He was trapped in his own mind.
He thought about Captain George Stacy, a truly noble man who cared about his family and did his best to protect them, down to his very last breath.
They shifted together, sliding from the cot and onto the unforgiving floor. Neither of them seemed to notice.
He thought about his Aunt May, another innocent soul he had failed to save. He thought about Norman Osborn, his second kill in a moment where all he wanted was to die himself. He thought of Harry, his best friend, who had witnessed the murder of his own father.
Felicia was pinning him to the ground, he couldn't fight, he didn't want to.
He thought of Gwen and he cried out.
What had he said? A name? Felicia's name? Her name?
I didn't matter, none of it mattered.
It was a terrifying feeling, waking up alone. The weight of his arm was gone and when she felt for him, his side of their cot had lost its warmth. Pulling on a pair of jeans, she considered putting on one of his shirts, but decided against it.
Better take things slow. She reasoned as she shrugged on a coat.
She found him on the roof. He was sitting on the ledge with his back towards her, facing the city.
Felicia approached Peter, trying to rub heat into her arms with her hands. The hard surface of the roof was rough on the bare soles of her feet.
"Hey." The word was accompanied by a puff of frost as the cold air frosted her breath. He flinched at the noise.
"Hey." He responded, not turning to face her. Felicia swallowed and ran a hand through her hair. A sudden fear was wrapping its claws around her heart, squeezing the vulnerable organ.
He's upset. This was a mistake.
Felicia almost slapped herself.
Get a grip, Hardy. You're acting like a child. So what if he leaves? You don't care.
Despite her thoughts, Felicia padded forward and perched next to him. A gust of wind blew over them, throwing their hair askew and sending a chill up along Felicia's spine. She observed Peter's thin shirt.
He must be freezing. She thought. Or maybe he isn't, maybe his Spider powers keep him warm? Or maybe he just doesn't care…
He hadn't responded to her presence yet, so she nudged him lightly with her elbow.
"So you really are Spider-Man, huh?" She probed, as he met her gaze. "This isn't some twisted joke?"
"No," He gave a hollow chuckle and looked down to the street below. "I'm the genuine article."
"You could have told me earlier, you know." She shot him a wink. "I would have kept your secret."
"I..." He raised his head to look at her again. "I know… you would have, but I couldn't tell anyone."
"Why can you tell me now then?"
"Well before… I had to keep it a secret to protect the people I love, and now… now there's no one."
No one.
Felicia stood up. Peter was once again surprised, this time by the sudden movement, and watched dumbly as she started walking quickly away from him.
No one.
"Felicia wait," He jumped up and reached out for her. "I didn't mean-"
The moment his fingers touched her arm, she whirled around and twisted her arm from his grip.
"I know I'm not her, Peter!" Hot tears were pricking at her eyes. "But you can't even pretend, can you?"
"Felicia…" He was frozen. Felicia's hard exterior was cracking. The stoic façade was shattered before his eyes.
"We've all lost people dammit! It comes with the territory, but you…" She shook her head, mouth opening and closing, but no sound came out. "You don't get to break down."
"What are you talking about?" Peter was genuinely confused now.
"You're sitting out here like… you're going to waste away, like you can't even function normally, and you can't do that, okay?!"
"Well why the hell not?" Peter stepped forward now, feeling something hot and powerful thrash around in his stomach. It wasn't love or lust. "I've paid my dues, I've done nothing but try and keep my friends and family alive, no matter what. That's what I've been doing all along! I didn't ask for this!" He gestured wildly with his hand, flinging his arm out over the city.
"I understand," Felicia clasped her hands together like she was in prayer. "I understand Peter, but… you just can't."
"Why not?!"
"Because-"
"Because what, god dammit!"
"Because I need you!" She swung her fist at him, but he easily side-stepped away from it. "Fuck you, Peter! Fuck you for making me say that." She moved to hit him again and he caught her wrists. Felicia struggled against him. "Get your hands off me!"
He released her and she staggered away from him, glaring furiously. There was silence for a while. Another gust of wind swirled around them, but neither felt the cold.
"I'm sorry," Peter finally said. "I'm not good at this, the whole… recovery thing." He breathed out heavily, deflated. "I just need time, Felicia. You understand right?"
"Yeah I understand," Felicia spat. "I understand that what happened last night meant nothing to you. I'm just part of the 'recovery' to you, a damn rebound."
No one.
"That's not true and you know it isn't. I care about you, Felicia, I really do." He took a step forward.
"You're lying."
"No I'm not." Another step.
"Stop."
"Not a chance." A last step and they were face to face once again.
"Peter, I… please."
"Please what?" Peter used his hand to guide her chin upwards. Her blue eyes met his brown ones and for a moment everything was still. Then their lips met, in a much different fashion than from earlier in the night. There were no deep gulps, but tiny sips that refreshed both of them and extinguished the heat in Peter's belly. Felicia, meanwhile, felt something she had never felt before. She felt small, suffocated by a powerful emotion the likes of which she'd never felt. She reached out with shaking hands and grabbed fistfuls of Peter's shirt, using him as an anchor.
She tastes like tears.
When they finally broke apart, Felicia spoke.
"Don't leave."