Oh Jeez. What am I doing. I don't need another fandom but NOOOOOO.

I get sucked, irrevocably and forever, into Spider-Man. So, my lovely followers, expect my Kickin' It to be sprinkled with Spider-Man. Sending love to Hels as my amazing beta-Emma Frost. *blows kiss* You be amazing, you be.

Gwen/Peter before and to the beginning of TASM.

Summary: And she smiles and he smiles and says "yeah" noncommittally and everything's finally falling into place for Peter for once and he's been waiting for this for what seems like forever and to be honest it's just a little bit beautiful.

Disclaimer: There is a long, LONG list of things I would do if I owned Spider-Man, but I don't, so….bummmerrr…


The whole falling in love with Gwen Stacy thing happened over a period of time.

He was a Parker-and Parker men loved their women right-so it was only to be understood that falling for Gwen wasn't to be some short, quick affair. 'When you have to work for it, it's worth it' Uncle Ben used to say to him. And Uncle Ben was right.

Eight-year-old Peter Parker has just transferred to Midtown Science Elementary School and his parents were still just missing. Missing from his life, sure, but not the world of the living. He's wearing a grey long-sleeved shirt and ratty jeans and he bleeds into the pavement like a ghost, quiet and observing, eyes wide and drinking everything in like an empty pitcher, willing and innocent. The mandatory introduction takes place in the bustling third-grade homeroom, and Peter stays quiet as Mrs. Jonson puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Class? This is Peter Parker. He just transferred from a school upstate-Peter is there anything you'd like to tell the class about yourself?"

A roomful of students, half paying attention and the other half whispering and attempting to write notes and examining what a booger looks like on a pencil, somewhat focus their eyes on him and something in Peter seizes his heart with a kind of terror that won't let him say a word. A muttered joke at his expense escapes into the confines of the classroom and a ripple of gentle but cruel laughter wafts through the room. Peter looks up at the teacher with wide, deer-in-headlights eyes, and she pats him on his shoulders and sends him to an available seat with a murmured "don't worry about it, Peter".

Peter notices a few people in the classroom that day on his way to his desk. A smirking, broadly set blonde boy with a glint in his eye that gives Peter a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. An animated redhead the center of a group of giggling girls, eyes shining and already attempting the patented hair-flip. A blonde girl with her head facing down at her desk and a pen scribbling across her sheet, a headband holding back her soft curls. The shock that someone was doing something as studious as homework in the beginning of homeroom was enough to make Peter stop and pause just a second too long for anyone to consider it simple curiosity. It was long enough for the blonde boy to yell "Whatcha lookin' at, Parker?" and to cause a big enough commotion for the girl to look up. Bright, intelligent grey-green eyes stare at him for a moment, make a note of him, and then flick back down to her sheet. Feeling dismissed, face burning like anything, Peter hurriedly shuffled to his desk and sat down, burying his face in his arms.

Well that was something. One side of his brain tells him.

Something you should probably never do again the other half advises him, but he doesn't listen. Peter slouches in his seat and pulls out a pencil case but his eyes flick to the back of the girls head and briefly follow the progress of her arm across the desk. Just that day his eyes are drawn to her slight movements and he can't explain why but he can't do it-can't pretend that the girl is anything less that out of the ordinary. And he'll never be able to simply ignore the enigma that was Gwen Stacy. They didn't learn each others names until a while afterwards, but that didn't make a difference. Two people had bumped into each other that were fated to be irrevocably interwoven and though neither one knew it, the ball had been set in motion.

/

Eleven year old Gwen Stacy pays no heed to the rumors that boys will, in fact, fling boogers on you.

She knows enough about herself and the way she wants to be that she considers herself beyond such immature things. She spends her days at the base of a tree far enough away from the playground that she can think straight and settles in with a book, burying her nose in it's pages a suitable and much more enjoyable way to have fun then scrambling around on a metal structure. Gwen might've been considered a little weird, sure, but she was too pretty to be ostracized by her female counterparts. The occasional times she did convene with the girls in her class she was brilliant and charismatic, so they let her be when she wanted to be.

Gwen knew enough about the opposite sex to studiously avoid them unless impossible, and there was only one boy in the entire fifth grade she thought she could have a conversation with. Quiet, lonely outcast Peter Parker, with his ever present ability to sink into the shadows and who would rather doodle in his notebook than do much frolicking in the mulch. He was the one person she deemed to be her equivalent in their entire class, except for one thing. Peter's preference of being alone wasn't accommodated and was frequently addressed by Eugene and his brainless posse of bullies. She'd be lying if she said she didn't wince every time she saw him without the wisp of a boy that was Peter's shadow: Harry Osborn.

It had gotten worse since Peter's parents passed, and Gwen couldn't stand by anymore. She had two little brothers at home now, one with a shock of blonde hair and the ability to tag around behind her, the other barely a Stacy with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. Her father had taught her to stand up for the little guys, and that was what she was going to do. Even though with Peter's recent growth spurt, Gwen couldn't justify calling him a 'little' guy.

Wrapping her hands around her much loved copy of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Gwen pushes herself off of the ground, black flats stomping on the ground with all the annoyance a Stacy female could drum up (and to hear her father tell it, it was a lot) her half ponytail of straight cornsilk hair swinging righteously down her back as her grey cardigan fluttered in the wind. Pushing herself through the relatively small crowd of pre-teens, Gwen raises her book and shouts "Eugene!"

Eugene doesn't acknowledge her, but the tips of his ears turn red as he continues yelling at Peter and Gwen remembers everyone calls him Flash now. Growling and rolling her eyes, Gwen thunders forward and smacks her book down on Eug-FLASH's head with all her might, and yells his name again. "EUGENE THOMPSON!"

The entire playground silences, and even both of the teacher monitors look up from their conversation (because of course budgets cuts were of much more importance than a petty bullying issue on the playground) and heads swivel and turn because the girls can't understand why would we ever stand up for a boy? And the boys can't understand did a someone just hit Flash with a BOOK? Gwen sort of smirks to herself and she folds her arms over her chest and waits patiently for the blonde boy to turn around. He does, of course, mouth gaping open and eyebrows furrowed in confusion and his stiff hair is kind of bent and he's taller than her so there's a bit of towering going on-but Gwen simply raises a brow with the full force of what her father calls The-Stacy-Women-Level-Of-Annoyance-Factor and says coolly "Honestly, Eugene. Isn't there anything better you could possibly conceive that you could do with your vocal chords?"

Flash's a little confused because what he doesn't know is Gwen's already read next years textbooks and is very aware of the means by which he is using to berate Peter's confidence but the bell rings and the crowd disperses, but the story remains. Peter, on the other hand, has his big brown eyes stretched as big as anything and his mouth is making fishy up and down motions so Gwen just spares him one attentive, grey-green cold flash of a stare and spins decidedly on her heel, walking purposefully up the stairs to the school with such an untouchable air that unless you were there you couldn't begin to imagine she'd just smacked Flash Thompson of all people on the head with a literary classic. Soon just Peter's left to gaze at the doors, looking quite a bit like he's been struck with a very, very thoughtmuddling stroke of lightning.

Harry Osborn, sulking because one too many outbursts in class forced him to stay in for recess, shuffles out to collect him and he's too grumpy about his parent's impending divorce to really look at Peter until he realizes not even a murmur has made its way out of his friends mouth.

"What happened?" Harry demands, clear blue eyes curious and confused, but Peter is only able to shake his head. Even he doesn't really get what just happened.

It doesn't matter that Harry doesn't get an answer, though, because the tale spreads through the school like wildfire and it's on most of the upper grades lips as they spill out of the building to get onto the buses. For once Peter is very glad that Aunt May walks him home from school every day, and doesn't receive the full brunt of Gwen's actions until the day after that. Taunts of Gwen being his girrllffrriieenndd might roll off the pretty blonde girl because she knows they have no truth, but to Peter its just another insult to add to the lot on his shoulders.

When she turns her head to smile at him in class the next day, though, he gives a little tilt of his head and smiles back. Maybe smacking people with books wasn't so bad after all.

/

Thirteen year old Peter Parker is a little more confident in himself, no longer a part of the background, a separate but alienated entity in the throng of middle schoolers.

Still sporting the same worn Nike's (a few sizes bigger) and raggedy jeans, his hair is a bit more wild and his eyes a bit more dark, missing taking on a different meaning than it had four years before. He's got a disposable camera stuffed in the pocket of his hoodie and is starting to shift inside his own skin, uncomfortable in the changes his body is going through. This is Harry Osborn's last year of school with him before he's being shipped off to private school and they make the most of it as only thirteen years olds can, playing video games at Harry's house and eating their fill of home cooked meals at Peter's.

Their sitting together under a tree at recess when Harry decides that if he's going to seriously ask Peter, he might as well do it now. He has nothing much else to lose and he isn't going to accept a roundabout turn of phrase for an answer now. "So, Pete. Whats the story between you two?" Peter jerks his head around to stare at the skinnier boy, eyes confused.

"The story?" his hands wander to his hoodie pocket and start to pick with the edges of the cardboard covering of the disposable camera, hair hiding his eyes. Peter knows what Harry's going to ask because he's been asking it at different points all throughout their years of friendship and Peter has (not so successfully) avoided answering.

"With Gwen." Harry's bright blue eyes gave him a c'mon man look and Peter leaned back, chewing on his lip. "You two had the strangest," Harry gives a weird, off kilter laugh "thing for as long as I can remember. You remember that time she hit Flash on the back of the head for you?" The heir to the Oscorp fortune chuckles a bit more easily this time as he nudges his best friend with a shoulder. "Classic."

Peter gnaws on his bottom lip a bit more and his gaze instinctively shoots across the expanse of grass to a girl discussing the finer points of scheduling with a much more bored Mary Jane. The redhead is painting her nails and nodding noncommittally to the blonde's statements, and Peter finds himself noticing something more about her than his frequent glances at her over the years have seemed to garner. Gwen no longer wears her hair in strict pigtails and a side French braid decorates the golden strands even now, a thin black headband judging the difference between her sweeping bangs and her interwoven locks. A long sleeved shirt, dark purple and gentle in its simplicity, is tucked into a high waisted denim skirt, Ugg boots brushing against her knees. His face softens as the quick contemplation of her features and he gives a shake of his head, shrugging up one shoulder to scuff the unruly hair near his ears.

"I dunno," Peter says lowly, fiddling with the cheap plastic knobs on the camera. "I just know that-when she looks at me, I'm always looking back. And that's about it, I guess, because I dunno." He gives his best friend a crooked half smile. "I dunno, Harry. I really don't. It's just Gwen. Okay?"

Harry gave a huff that clearly told Peter yeah right but it was the closest Harry had gotten to a real answer that he decided to let it go. He digs a stick into the grass beside him and promptly switches to strictly not worrying about whether or not his father was going to kill him for his grades this semester and he frowns darkly, lost in his own realm of anger.

As for Peter, he rubbed his thumb along the edges of the camera again and thinks on the fact that no matter what he tells Harry some part of him knows, it just knows that for as long as he can remember, ever since he lingered too long by her desk he and Gwen Stacy have been inexplicably connected and that's enough of an explanation for him.

/

Fifteen year old Gwen Stacy is still, miraculously, good friends with Mary Jane and has evolved way past the cootie stage of boys.

She doesn't really know what their purpose is, of course, and listens with a half an ear whenever Mary Jane gushes about how tall and utterly dreamy Flash Thompson's gotten and busies herself with getting her biology homework done. Gwen's the happy big sister of three boys now, James, Phil, and Simon, and the younger two already shows signs of being annoying. She doesn't mind it, though-Gwen loves feeling needed when they throw themselves into her legs when she gets home and she loves cuddling up in her father's lap with them, their little milk-sweet breathing peppering the story Captain Stacy reads them every night.

It's not until one day in biology lab when Gwen understands exactly what's prompting her friend to spend all her time reading airy magazines and trying out new styles of clothing. She's examining the guts of her frog and deducing which parts are which when someone clears his throat to get her attention.

"Gwen?"

She jumps and almost drops the frog esophagus she was holding up to the light but schools herself easily, flicking her head in an attempt to keep her bangs out of her eyes. When Gwen finally does collect herself, her grey-green eyes widen just that little bit more because oh my gosh Peter PARKER, the infamous, the in-ignorable, the recipient of her heroic book smack, is shifting awkwardly on his feet in front of her, a wry grin on his face.

Gwen would be lying if she hadn't shot the odd glance at him over the years, but their class is in fact large and he is in fact a boy, a species she hasn't spent that much time paying attention to, so when she lays her eyes on Peter her cheeks color the teeniest bit.

Wow. Puberty and Peter were evidently a highly successful equation.

He's looming over her a bit now, his frame lanky and unassuming, still thin muscles moving with uncertainty under his skin, the roughhoused chocolate locks of his hair a frothy mess that makes her fingers itch to touch. Peter shifts on his feet and tries again for her attention, his getting deeper (but still breaking, a fact which Gwen cannot help but find adorable) voice calling her name uncertainly. "Uh, Gwen? Sarah told me she couldn't be your lab partner today cuz, uh," Peter winced. "She threw up when she, uh, heard about the dissection. Mr. Cole," he nudged a head in the general direction of their wildly gesturing teacher "Told me to uh, pair with you."

Gwen's sure she's looking like a deer in headlights at this point, but she can't fathom why thoughts such as oh God does my hair look okay and crap, I KNEW I shouldn't have worn the black skirt today are skittering through her mind until Peter waves a hand in front of her face and finally, gently flicks her on the forehead. "Gwen, you there?"

A flurry of warmth spreads out and seems to seep into her body at his touch and Gwen's mind finally collects the dots because ohhhh this is what Mary Jane means and of course-this is what puberty feels like. She should feel more startled at this abrupt method of her coming-of-age but the fact is that somewhere deep in her heart something had accepted the fact that Peter was kind of special. Gwen didn't quite know what was going on under the hood of the brunette boy standing before her, and if there's one thing a scientist loves, it's an equation they can't quite understand.

Not that she's sure she'll ever understand Peter.

And for once, that fact is pretty okay. Almost better than okay, even. If better than okay was a thing. Gwen thinks she'll like him a little less if she figures out how he ticks because of all of the kinds of people she's categorized before, Peter's never really been fit to be shoved into a mold.

So Gwen smiles a little too brilliantly than she would've before, and asks him, in a perfectly normal voice "Okay. Did you bring your dissection kit?" because it's what she would've asked anyone else and Peter deserves no less. What Peter gets is a tentative lilt of the voice that comes at the end of her question and a sparkle in her eye, and the fact that the only Stacy female just may be crushing on him

Just maybe.

/

Seventeen year old Peter Parker is used to being a punching bag but is way past done taking it standing up, and has an arsenal of quick tongued retorts to shoots at Flash Thompson and his duo of dweebs as Peter labels them. He saves up enough money to finally buy a real, legitimate camera, and the time he doesn't spend making up little gadgets or practicing tricks on his skateboard goes to finding new angles and figuring out the right lens of filter to put his pictures into.

Seventeen year old Gwen Stacy is used to being the science nerd but is way past done being under a label, and has an arsenal of somewhat materialistic friends and a reluctant enjoyment for shopping to shoot as an outward warning to all to try to label them thereof. She spends more time with her homework than her friends, and that's a fact that hasn't changed, but the amount of time she spends absently reading a book during lunch is balanced out with the quick, wistful glances she spends at one Peter Parker.

They take turns, unconsciously, when it comes to glancing at each other.

And when Peter's rolling slowly on his back on the pavement, arms clutching his stomach and hoarsely, idiotically reminding Flash that he's "still not gonna take the picture" Gwen doesn't hesitate to push her way through the crowd and step over Peter's unpredictable limbs, clutching her books to her chest and leveling Flash with a familiar glare.

Everyone who's consistently gone to school with the three of them have half formed memories of Jules Verne colliding with the back of a bullies head, but Peter's eyes flicker as they recognize the signs of a pissed of Gwen Stacy.

"Flash!" she commands, ponytail swinging with the burden of sass and the knowledge of being right. "Are we still on for my house today? Three thirty?" Gwen sucks in a breath between her teeth and lips and gives an almost imperceptible shake of the head-"because last time I was very disappointed."

Flash makes to go towards Peter again and Gwen follows his movements fluidly, her look of disappointment evolving into displease in an instant. "No how about we go to class, Flash. Huh? How about that?"

The bell rings just as it did on that playground six years ago and the crowd disperses much the same way, but this time Peter Parker is far from a victim and Gwen Stacy is far from a savior. Peter pulls his body up to rest on one hand and his gaze connects with Gwen's, their conversation swift but understood. Gwen's says I'm sorry about him like Flash is her responsibility and Peter's says uh, uhm, it's okay? and she's walking swiftly away and he's reaching for his camera and things almost fall back into they were before.

Except this time Gwen turns back in class with a furrowed brow and a "That was great, what you did out there." Peter's a little shell shocked because this is Gwen and their little conversations have always, always been unworded before, but she trips into his thoughts again she keeps talking. "it was stupid..." her eyes squint but a smile plays on her lips. "But it was great." She turns around and Peter feels a little relieved but also a little disapointed but that ponytail whips in the air and her startling grey-green eyes are looking at him again.

"You really should get that checked out" and Peter's brow furrows in return because lets be honest the boy is confused and when she says "have you been to the nurse? You might have a concussion." He manages to reply with a head nod and an unworded uh, yeah, yeah and then Gwen gifts him with an unsure smile and says, almost murmurs "Whats your name?"

This is a stupid question because they've known each others names since third freaking grade hello and Peter puts this into English with the eloquently worded "You don't know my name?" And Gwen gives a hoarse laugh and says "Oh I know your name. I just want to know if you know your name."

His mouth twitches into a smile because this Gwen/Peter banter is something he hasn't really been faced with in a few years so he responds "Peter." And when she gives him that and? Look he gives a chuckle and says "Peter Parker."

Gwen smiles and almost turns away but Peter decides to play along and says "You're Gwen, right?" and she grins even wider and says "Gwen Stacy."

And she smiles and he smiles and says "yeah" noncommittally and everything's finally falling into place for Peter for once and he's been waiting for this for what seems like forever and to be honest it's just a little bit beautiful.


This does happen to be included in what I'm going to make be a three-shot, so be looking for the other one.

Part two is the events within TASM, and Part three is what I think happened after TASM and before TASM 2 which is creeping up remarkably quickly but also saddenly slow and just weoirueurituieouirt IT CAN'T GET HERE SOON ENOUGH OKAY.