As arranged, Gwen walked into the obscure little side-street café that Peter had described. To her surprise he was already there, far in the back, in his horn-rimmed specs, scribbling notes in the margin of a dense looking tome. She'd made no noise but the instant she set foot over the threshold, Peter's eyes were on her and he was beaming.

Seeing him in daylight, up close, after seeing him only at a distance for so many months, she was struck by how much older he looked. It was abundantly clear to her that all Peter had seen and been through in his life, especially in recent years, had made him a man. She knew almost nothing about him these days but the warmth with which he greeted her gave her the sense that he might not be too reluctant to open up.

He looked uncharacteristically dapper this morning. She realised that, apart from the specs, she didn't recognise even one article of the clothing he was wearing. The dark pants he wore weren't suit pants, but they weren't jeans either and they seemed to be a perfect cut for him. He had teamed them with a cream shirt, and a green woollen v-neck sweater, just the right shade for his eyes. Over that he wore the most perfect dark brown leather coat, but it was the on-trend pointy brown leather shoes that really stumped her. She had always admired Peter for his many excellent qualities but she would never have thought to say that the boy could dress.

"You look good, Peter." Her tone suggested both her surprise and approval.

He grinned. "Thanks, so do you."

As she sat down she felt the warmth from the open fire in the corner nearest to them and slipped her scarlet wool coat off her shoulders and over the back of the chair.

While she looked at the menu she glanced up to see Peter, red-faced and grinning bashfully, obviously being silently congratulated by the friendly waiter on sitting across the table from someone like her. In almost no time, perfect warm-brown ceramic vessels of creamy espresso were placed in front of them along with steaming omelettes. They got stuck into their breakfasts.

"Peter, I never got to ask you about those interviews you mentioned. Is this college stuff you're sorting out?"

Peter rested his cup on the saucer in front of him and smiled wryly. "I guess we've got a bit of catching up to do."

She nodded, looking at him from under her long lashes as she raised her cup to her lips.

"So, all year I've been working for this biologist, Professor Graeme Hardy, at Columbia. He's employed me as a pre-college intern. He seems really keen for me to apply to the Columbia Advanced Science program. I'm seriously thinking about it, I really enjoy working with him." Peter laughed without humour. "It took me a while to be sure he wasn't going to turn into something dangerous."

They both sat in silence for a minute.

"But he hasn't?" Gwen finally asked lightly and the tension dissipated.

"Not so far," he grinned.

"Wow, Peter, I love that it's going so well for you. The Science program at Columbia looks amazing. I guess… I guess you want to, umm, stay close to home?"

Peter realised she was referring to his life as Spiderman and nodded. "What about you? Have you decided what you're going to do?

"I'm going to stay in the city too. Oscorp have given me a really generous scholarship. There'll probably be some great opportunities in the future if I keep working with them while I study. Actually, Columbia is one of my options too, probably my favourite choice." She paused and smiled slightly. "It'd be nice to think we might run into each other on campus."

Peter grinned. "Mmm."

"What are the other options you're interviewing for?"

Peter looked at her for a moment but didn't reply. Eventually, he spoke. "Would you think I were crazy if I were thinking about art school?"

Gwen shook her head emphatically. "I'd think you were crazy if you didn't think about art school. Your photos are amazing."

Peter looked relieved. "Thing is…" he paused. "Thing is, I kind of need your permission to submit my portfolio."

She looked confused. "My permission? You have it! Why do you need my permission?"

Peter smiled sheepishly. "I'll have to show you later but, long story short, all my photos are of you."

Gwen opened her mouth and then closed it again. "I don't remember you taking any photos of me."

"Yeah, that's why I'll need your permission. They're just shots I took around school this year."

She paused. "This year? We haven't seen each other all year, Peter."

Peter looked down at his coffee. "I've seen you all year."

Gwen began to see the promise of a light, fun day with Peter disintegrating into what could only lead to angst. She knew they needed to wade through the angst at some point but it had been a long time since she'd just had fun. She determined to snatch victory out of the jaws of defeat and smiled brightly. "Ok, well, suffice it to say, I'm keen to see these photos. You done with breakfast? Shall we find you a suit?"

Peter paid for the meal, squirmingly enduring the raised eyebrows and encouraging pats on the shoulder from the waiter. It became apparent that Peter was a bit of a regular and the waiter's enthusiasm for Peter turning up with her reminded Gwen a little of the restaurant scene from Lady and the Tramp.

So she now knew where Peter's cash flow was coming from. It was nice to get a sense that Peter was being so enthusiastically courted by Columbia. Though she never saw any evidence, she got a sense that, when he wasn't saving the city from the forces of evil, or apparently stalking her with a camera, he was head down in his school work. As she stood behind him at the counter she couldn't stop herself from looking him up and down once more. This was an incredible outfit. A year ago he would have looked like a little boy dressing up in his dad's… She looked again at Peter's clothes. Though they were completely on-trend, she'd heard her mum say it enough times to get a sense of the truth of it – everything old is new again. Peter hadn't gone shopping, he'd just unearthed his dad's, or maybe his uncle's wardrobe. She assumed he must have been required to wear business casual some days while working at Columbia and his ensemble easily outdid that of the best dressers among the young men she worked with at Oscorp.

As Peter exchanged his last few lines of banter with the waiter, Gwen pictured him, on his own, opening his uncle's closet, trying to find a business shirt and being overwhelmed by his memories. Peter turned towards her to head out the door and before she'd fully registered what she was doing, she'd slipped her hand into his, reaching out for him in the emotion she imagined he felt in the scene in her head.

Peter ducked his head to look into her eyes. Her expression was unreadable – was she on the verge of tears? Yet she smiled at him so warmly that the completely unsubtle thumbs-up from his friend behind the counter couldn't even embarrass him.

Peter and Gwen walked hand-in-hand into the cold air of the New York street. After the warmth of the open fire, they both reacted to the chill and Gwen, still seeing Peter in her mind standing in front of his Uncle Ben's closet, broke her hold of his hand and slid her hands inside his jacket, pressing her face against the warm wool of his sweater. He immediately responded, wrapping his arms around her tightly and they stood together in the cold, warm in one another's arms.

"I've missed you, Peter," Gwen whispered.

He didn't speak but pressed his warm lips to her forehead.

Simultaneously, a particularly icy blast of wind rushed down the alley and an outrageously loud wolf-whistle sounded from inside the warmth of the café. Peter laughed and shivered. "Wanna get moving?"

"Sure," Gwen replied, though she didn't really want to go anywhere. She let him let her go and he took her hand again as naturally as if he'd never got out of the habit of reaching for it.

"Where to first?" Peter asked as they headed up the alley.

"How's your budget?" Gwen asked.

Peter grinned and ruffled his hair. "Let's just say it's healthy."