Peter woke up groggily almost forgetting why he hadn't gone to school the last day before break. The pain surging throughout his body quickly reminded him. He knew there was absolutely no way he was in any shape to go searching for trouble. He would need to heal.

Peter was leisurely making his way down the stairs towards the sound of a running sink and the clinking of dishes. He stepped into the kitchen.

"Morning, Aunt May."

Startled, Aunt May almost dropped the plate in which she was cleaning by the sink.

"Peter Parker, you go straight back to bed," she scolded. Peter almost thought she was joking.

"Aunt May, I'm fine," he protested. Aunt May shook her head in disapproval.

Peter certainly wasn't up to discuss with Aunt May what he was certain she already knew, and it seemed she wasn't either. She tapped her foot against the linoleum floor.

"I'm going," Peter turned to go back up to his isolated room.

He shut the door behind him. He turned to look at his clock. 9:07 a.m.

"Why can't I ever sleep in for once?" Peter muttered. He fell down against his bed, his face meeting the cold sheets.

He had lazily spent his entire day confined inside his room. He was healing quickly enough. He worked on a new spandex Spider-Man suit which took up four hours. His old one had been ruined drastically; it had rips, dirt, and burn marks covering every inch of red and blue. Peter found it comical that although he had been harnessing his powers for over three months, he still hadn't managed to grasp the skill of escaping a fight unscathed.

After he finished his suit, he didn't have much to occupy himself with. He counted his bruises, made some slight modifications to his web shooters, and played chess with himself.

Peter tried not to think much about what happened at the bridge with the Green Goblin. The events played in order causing Peter to relive each detail. He tried to steer his thoughts away from anything besides the image of Gwen hovering over him, cleaning up his wounds.

Peter collapsed on his bed. He slowly closed his eyes trying to drift into unconsciousness.

"Peter, someone is here to see you," Aunt May's voice rang out from downstairs. If it had not been for his acute sense of hearing, he was sure he wouldn't have heard her. Her voice was always so quiet.

"Tell Harry I'm not feeling too well," Peter called out.

It wasn't that Peter suddenly lacked the desire to hang out with Harry. Harry Osborn was the closest thing to a best friend he'd ever had. It was just that Peter couldn't grasp the fact that Harry was Norman's son. Peter wouldn't be able to face him if all he would think of the entire time was the Green Goblin.

"It's not Harry," Aunt May called up the stairs.

Peter thought of going downstairs. He unlocked his bedroom door. He hesitated as held the doorknob in his hand poised and ready to turn it.

Peter listened for a moment before he heard the unmistakable laugh of one May Parker. Peter became increasingly suspicious. Peter was lucky if he got that reaction to any of his utterly lame jokes from Aunt May; she hadn't laughed like that in so long.

Peter drew the line as he heard Aunt May burst into a fit of giggles. He half walked, half jogged down the stairs to meet this guest.

"Peter," Gwen beamed up at him. He stared at Aunt May who was grinning.

They sat at the kitchen table.

Gwen had spent her sleepless night thinking of Peter, and she had spent her day at school that way as well. Much of the reason she had showed up at his house was to see how he was. The other reason was because she wanted answers.

"Gwen, sweetheart, you can go up to Peter's room. I'll just be down here," Aunt May said.

Gwen walked over to Peter who stood stunned as he retreated up the staircase into his room. Dirty clothes seemed to be scattered every which way on the floor around his room, his bed wasn't made, and there were useless candy wrappers on top of his desk.

"You look better," Gwen told Peter, who was throwing his clothes into a pile by his closet.

"Uhm, yeah. Not good enough for Aunt May to have let me gone to school," Peter said.

He threw all the candy wrappers in the trash can underneath his desk.

"You needed rest," Gwen told him.

Gwen took a seat on the chair by his computer. She seemed to take little notice that Peter's room was such a mess. The only thing she was really looking at was Peter. Her eyes were fixed intently on him.

He sat down on the edge of his unmade bed. What Peter loved as he stared back at her was that she didn't look the least bit out of place in his dirty, oddly decorated room. Gwen Stacy fit in perfectly.

"Peter, I saw that guy on the news. They were running a tape of what happened on the bridge that some citizen shot from a distance. The entire bridge is -" Gwen told him.

"Gone," Peter finished for her.

She began fidgeting. Gwen wanted to tell Peter just how much she worried about his safety. She wanted to tell him that her mind was constantly being invaded by thoughts of how hurt he would be the next time he put his life at risk.

"You could have died," Gwen emphasized her words as strongly, yet as quietly as she could.

"I think I did a pretty good job of protecting myself," Peter defended himself.

"If you had gone a step closer when you ran back onto the bridge, you'd have died," Gwen told him. Her eyes closed briefly.

"I didn't," he reminded her.

"I know there's more to this than you're telling me. If there wasn't you would have easily been able to take him down," Gwen told Peter.

Peter nodded. "He's strong. Really strong."

"How? Who is this guy?"

Peter lifted his shoulders. He leaned his head back.

"I-uhm, I don't know," he sighed.

Peter ran a hand through his shaggy hair. Gwen was smart. Peter knew she wasn't going to give up trying to squeeze every little detail out of him about what was truly going on. He wanted to tell her because Gwen would know exactly what to tell him. She would know the right words to say that would make Peter feel at ease about the matter. He wanted her advice and comfort.

Gwen sat beside him on the bed.

He stared back at Gwen who was silently waiting for him to answer her.

Her eyes stared deep into Peter's. His injuries immediately began to hurt less, his worries disappeared, and his mind was cleared of everything but Gwen Stacy.

His lips were surging with electricity, yearning to connect to Gwen's. A small movement, a sudden leap of courage would close the space between the two of them. It would speak what Peter was feeling. He wanted Gwen. Peter slowly, unnoticeably started inching forward. He needed Gwen.

A muffled vibration came from Gwen's cardigan pocket. She pulled out her cell phone.

Peter leaned back.

From: Mom

Sent: 5:51

Do you think you can pick up ham at market? Making new dish tonight

Gwen's mother always liked trying new things for dinner. Gwen thought her mother took out her frustration and sadness through cooking. Gwen did appreciate her mother's efforts very much. Talking at dinner about how peculiar her dishes were were what kept the conversation going when the same routine small talk would die down.

Dinners hadn't exactly been the same since the loss of George Stacy.

"I should go," Gwen told him.

She stood up to leave. Peter followed her out of his bedroom quietly.

Gwen placed a hand on the door frame of the front door. She turned around.

"Hey, do you uhm want to come to dinner tonight? No branzino, I promise."

Peter nodded sheepishly.

"I'll see you later then. 8 o'clock," Gwen said softly.

Peter felt his insides do flips. He calmly shut the door behind Gwen.

He slowly started walking to the kitchen. Aunt May was wiping down the kitchen table.

"Did Gwen leave?" she asked Peter.

"Uhm, yeah. Yes," Peter nodded.

Aunt May placed the rag on the countertop. She turned to look at Peter.

"She's a nice girl," Aunt May told him.

Peter sat down at the table. "Hmm? Yeah."

Peter began playing with the saltshaker that rested on the table.

"Peter, that girl is something special. Don't let her go," Aunt May told him.

He felt his temperature rising. He clumsily dropped the saltshaker which spilled its inside on the tabletop.

"Uh - Aunt May, she's just a girl," Peter told her.

Aunt May then took the saltshaker in her hands and wiped the table clean once more. She shook her head.

He knew she didn't believe him.

He didn't believe himself either.

"Peter Parker, I can see it in your eyes. She's not just a girl," Aunt May told him.

He spent the next two hours talking to Aunt May about Gwen. Peter talked about how smart, sweet, and beautiful she was. He didn't mention the promise he had made to Captain Stacy, or how he had ignored Gwen because of it. Aunt May had listened the entire time. Once he had decided to stop his rambling to get ready for dinner at Gwen's apartment, he heard May Parker's laugh.

A real, whole-hearted laugh.

"What are you laughing at?" he chuckled.

"You thought you were no good for her," she recalled.

Peter suppressed a smile.

"I can try to be."


"Gwen, sweetheart, honestly. Can you stop pacing around and set up the table?"

"What? Oh," Gwen took the dishes her mother handed her, "I'm sorry. I'm just nervous."

Gwen had invited Peter to dinner on an impulse, a random act of courage completely aware that she might be shut down. To her surprise, she wasn't. Peter had said yes.

Peter had come to her for help after the bridge incident, and he hadn't turned her away when she had shown up at his house unexpectedly. He also agreed to come to dinner. Gwen hoped that meant something. It had to.

"This is the boy that came to have dinner with us a while back?" Gwen's mother asked her.

"Peter. Yes," Gwen replied.

Gwen set the dinner plates along the table.

For three weeks, Gwen set a place mat where her father had sat for dinner before his death. After seeing that it caused her family more pain seeing the empty plate than it not being there at all, she stopped.

She uncomfortably walked past the seat at the end of the table.

She wanted this dinner to go better than the last. She couldn't bring herself to recall the last time Peter sat at her dinner table. She knew Peter would be thinking of her father the entire time, but she didn't want him to.

"He's the guy who doesn't know how to eat branzino," Gwen's brother, Simon, called from the living room.

Gwen heard the common sound of a television coming from the living room. Her three brothers sat huddled around the TV. Philip was holding the video game controller concentrating on the screen in front of him.

"Shut up, Simon. I'm trying to pass level 34," Philip yelled.

"It's my turn after this level," Howard hollered.

"Lower the television," Gwen's mother called out to them from the kitchen.

"You just passed the level. It's my turn," Howard told Philip.

Philip ignored Howard. "Is he your boyfriend?" he asked Gwen.

Philip yelled out as Howard tackled him to the ground. Simon joined in, which led to a pile of young boys all reaching for the game controller which was held firmly in Philip's hands.

Over the loud yelling of her three rowdy brothers, she thought she heard the sound of a doorbell.


Disclaimer: I own nothing. Merely for enjoyment purposes!

So, tell me how you liked Chapter 7! :)