Epilogue: Auld Lang Syn
Peter Parker
"Shit!"
Brows furrowing, I poke my head around the corner to see who is cursing. I stifle a snigger. Scott's trying to balance three open bottles of beer, a plate of nachos, and a tray of buffalo wings in his arms as he makes his way into the common area. One of the beers tucked under his left arm is slipping precariously, and I feel a prickle at the back of my neck that has me lunging forward.
The base of the bottle lands heavily in my palm inches away from the ground.
"Thanks, man," Scott says appreciatively with a relieved sigh.
"No problem," I say as I snatch one of the chips from his plate, drenched in nacho cheese and guacamole, and pop it into my mouth. "Need help?"
"And risk you demolishing my stash before it makes it back to the table, you bottomless pit? No thanks," Scott says dryly.
"Suit yourself," I say, swallowing. I hold out the beer. "Here you go."
Scott stares at the bottle, then looks down at his full arms. I raise a brow smugly.
"Damn it," he grumbles. "Take the damn nachos, then. But if that plate is empty by the time we get to the table, you're the one who has to answer to Sam."
"Deal," I say with a grin, taking the plate off his hands.
"And I better not catch you taking swigs of my beer, either. If word gets to Stark that I'm the one who slipped you alcohol at this party, I may not live to see the new year."
Tempting, but I don't want to risk Mr. Stark's wrath either. Or May's, when I promised her I'd be on my best behavior at this party and the next.
"Scout's honor," I say, tucking the bottle under my arm and popping another chip into my mouth.
"When did you get here?" Scott asks as we head into the main room.
"Couple minutes ago," I reply through a mouthful of food, gazing around with wide eyes. The room is filled with Avengers. Laid back, impeccably dressed, partying Avengers. And a bunch of other people I don't recognize, all with a drink in their hand or a plate of food; dancing, lounging, chatting...
Mr. Stark clearly spared no expense for this New Year's Eve party.
The music is loud, but not loud enough that you have to shout in order to be heard, and there are even a few brave souls, the younger interns, I guess, that are dancing out on the polished wood dance floor. I snort. There's even a disco ball.
"We're over there," Scott nods his head to a table in the corner, where I can see Sam and Bucky seated, a deck of cards between them.
"Looking schnazzy, junior," Sam nods at me as we approach.
"Thanks," I grin. I'm glad now that May insisted I at least wear my navy plaid button up shirt with my nice jeans, since everyone is dressed either at my level or fancier. I hand him his plate of nachos as Scott slides into his seat with a sigh, setting down the tray of wings and handing the others their beers.
Bucky raises an eyebrow at the large tray of food.
"What?" Scott asks, taking a long drink. "Gambling makes me hungry."
"Gambling? You guys playing poker?" I ask, slipping my hands into my pockets.
"Go-fish," Bucky deadpans.
Sam snorts into his beer.
"Is that why you've been winning this whole time?" Scott asks him dryly as he takes a huge bite out of one of the chicken wings. "You've been taking cards from the deck?"
"He's winning, because unlike you, Lang, he has a decent poker face," Sam remarks. "Take a seat, kid. We're playing Texas Holdem. Want me to deal you in?"
"Nah, I spent all my money on Christmas presents," I reply, but take the offered seat. "I'll watch."
"Watch and learn from the master, Pete," Scott cracks his neck as Sam begins to deal out the cards. "I'm not giving another dime to this bastard, no offense."
"None taken," Bucky meets my eyes with a smirk, and I catch a glimpse of something white poking out beneath his sleeve before it's gone. I'm barely able to stifle my snigger.
"How's your aunt doing?" asks Sam as he tosses a pair of red chips onto the middle of the table.
"Good. Yeah, she's...she's doing good."
Bucky slides two matching chips besides Sam's, and Scott follows suit.
"And you? How you doing?"
I squirm uncomfortably in my seat, my eyes on the table as Sam flips over a card. The king of spades.
How am I doing? Physically, I am almost completely recovered. All that's left from the ordeal is some soreness in my chest.
Mentally? Emotionally? Well, I'm still working on that part. Might always be working on that part. Venom is gone for good. There's not a single trace of it left in my body. But that doesn't mean the nightmares are gone. It doesn't mean that there aren't moments I get triggered into having crippling panic attacks. It doesn't mean that I don't think about every word that came out of my mouth, every swing of my fist when I was under its control.
"I'm alright," I say finally.
And it's true. Yeah, I'm not great, and I am still struggling with the aftermath of being possessed by Venom. Will be for awhile. But I am myself again. I got to go home with May and do our own Christmas properly. I got to look up my grades online and discover, much to my complete shock, that I had not failed all of my finals like I'd thought. I got to see Ned and do our secret handshake and tell him how much I appreciated him.
Venom's gone.
I'm free.
And it's a start.
"You know," Sam says, his eyes moving from his hand to me as another card is flipped over and more chips tossed onto the table. "I know you've probably heard this from everyone, but if you ever wanna talk. I'm here. I have some experience with trauma, like all these other assholes. But I also have experience in talking about it. Dealing with it in healthy ways. Helping people deal with their shit is sort of a specialty of mine."
I swallow, touched by the offer. My instinct is to brush him off with a well timed quip about shrinks, but I stifle that urge down. Because...if I learned anything about the past few weeks, it was that I definitely need to work on my communication. Bottling things up only made things worse for me, and that is not something I plan on ever doing again.
And I like Sam. He's cool, someone I might actually be able to open up to without worrying about making him feel overwhelming amounts of misplaced guilt or pity, like May or Mr. Stark might feel.
"Thanks, man," I mutter, and mean it. He nods at me with a smile before turning back to his cards.
I swivel in my seat slightly, my gaze wandering over the people milling about the room as the game goes on behind me.
"Is Clint here?" I ask, spying Dr. Cho across the room. She's wheelchair bound, a brace around her neck, but she's smiling at whoever she's talking to, looking greatly improved from the last time I visited her in her room in the medical wing.
"Nah, he's home with his family," Sam replies.
I frown. I never got the chance to thank him for what he did, for trying to stop me. Or to apologize for nearly...for nearly…
The images flash painfully through my mind like jagged shards of ice, and I have to fight to keep my breathing even. I press my fingertips into my chest, just above my heart, feeling only a faint, dull ache beneath my touch.
I turn back to the game to find Bucky's eyes on me, a silent question on his face. Giving him a little shrug and a half smile seems to be answer enough, because he gives me a nod.
"Flush," Scott calls out smugly, laying down his hand full of spades. He bites into another wing. "Let's see those cards, boys."
Sam shakes his head. "I have three of a kind."
Both turn to Bucky, who keeps his even gaze on me as he lays down his cards face up.
"You've got to be kidding me!" Scott exclaims with outraged disbelief. "How the hell did you get a full house again?!"
"There he is!" a strong hand clamps down onto my shoulder, squeezing lightly, and I look up at Mr. Stark, dressed impeccably and with a glass of amber liquid in his other hand.
"Hey, Mr. Stark."
"What are you doing, hanging out with these heathens? Real party's over here," Mr. Stark releases my shoulder and gestures for me to follow him.
"Hey, watch who you're calling heathens," Sam warns with a gesture of his beer bottle, even as Scott continues to rail against Bucky, his mouth still full of chicken.
"Yes, you men are the picture of sophistication," Mr. Stark calls back as he steers me away. I give the three of them a half wave before I face forward.
"Where's that lovely aunt of yours?"
"She's not really the 'party with superheroes' type," I say. "I think she said something about having enough excitement for a lifetime."
"Fair enough," Mr. Stark nods. "Speaking of, how are you holding up? Haven't gotten any updates from F.R.I.D.A.Y. about any Spidermaning lately."
"Yeah, I'm-I'm alright," I shrug. "Getting there, I guess."
Mr. Stark stops, turning to face me. "Talk to me, kid. What's eating you? Normally, there's nothing short of taking your suit away that stops you from going out on patrol, and even then, you just pull out those spectacular pajamas of yours."
"I don't know," I shrug again, uncomfortable. "I just…"
A sigh escapes me, and Mr. Stark just waits with a raised brow, taking a sip of his drink to show that he is in no kind of hurry. "I just haven't gotten up the courage to...to put on the suit again. The last time I did, I- well, I lost control. Took a fight too far. And then finding out that...that Venom had, I mean seeing that video...what if people are afraid of Spiderman now? What if they think he-I-am too dangerous? What if-"
"Ok, I'm going to stop you there. The 'what if' tangents could go on for the rest of the year and then some," Mr. Stark interrupts. "Look, kid. I get it. Your name was besmirched. I've been there. Done a whole lot of that. But let me tell you something. The public sucks. Their opinions change at the drop of a hat, they're hysterical, they're fickle, they're even cruel, they're the world's worst girlfriend. The question is, do you still love her? Are you going to fight for her?"
I stare at him, and Mr. Stark continues. "I know it's a lot of metaphor I'm throwing at you, but stay with me. You don't owe the people of New York anything. You want to stop being Spiderman, you stop. You want to take a break, take a break. It's up to you to decide if the relationship is worth fighting for."
It is a lot of metaphor, and I think Mr. Stark might be slightly drunk, but comparing the general public as a difficult girlfriend actually kind of makes sense. And even though I'm worried, even though I might be a little messed up after everything that's happened, I know I can never stop being Spiderman. I'll never stop fighting, stop helping people.
"It is," I say. "Worth fighting for, I mean."
"Good man," Mr. Stark claps his hand on my shoulder and steers me forward again. "Otherwise I would have had to return your very large, very expensive Christmas present.
My jaw drops, my brows knitting together as I let out a surprised sort of laugh as I look between Mr. Stark and the enormous framed poster he has up on the wall for everyone to see.
"Once the party's over, it'll be moved to your room," Mr. Stark takes a sip of his drink, then gestures towards the wall with his glass. "Although the lighting here is pretty damn perfect if you ask me."
It's of me.
More accurately, Spiderman. It's a near replica of the massive black and white Ironman poster up on his floor of the facility, but this poster is entirely red and blue, obviously done by the same artist in the minimalist style. A thin white line is running down from the top center of the poster, and dangling from it is Spiderman, upside down, his feet and hands easily clinging to the line.
It's...awesome.
"Mr. Stark, this is...wow," I say with an awkward laugh as I rub the back of my neck and take a step forward.
"I know," he claps another hand on my shoulder as he takes another drink. "Had my guy make it up for you a couple days ago, wanted to save the big reveal for tonight."
"It's awesome," I say enthusiastically, pulling out my phone to snap a picture of it. Ned is going to flip when he sees.
"So you doing posters of all the Avengers now?" Scott asks with a smirk as he comes up to stand on my other side, his half drunk beer in his hand.
"Just the cool ones," Mr. Stark shoots back easily, and Scott scowls. "Had one made up for you too, Lang."
Scott's face morphs into a look of pleasant surprise. "Really?"
"Got it right here," Mr. Stark fishes in his pocket with his free hand, then tosses something small into the air.
Scott catches it, frowning as he turns his hand over and examines the object lying in his palm. I peer over his shoulder at it, and my eyebrows shoot up as a grin takes over my face.
The Ant-man poster is the size of my thumbnail.
"Ant sized, for your viewing pleasure," smirks Mr. Stark. "That's about the average size of your fan base, isn't it?"
"Funny, I thought you were basing the proportions off of the size of your-"
"Ah. ah," Mr. Stark cuts Scott off with a gesture towards me. "Children present."
"I was gonna say the level of your generosity."
"I am the king of generosity."
"On what planet?"
As entertaining as this is, and I so could watch them go back and forth for hours, I have to interrupt. "Thank you, Mr. Stark," I say, turning to him as I pocket my phone. "Really, it's so cool."
"Why does it sound like you're trying to say goodbye? You ditching my party?"
"No! Not ditching. Just...leaving."
"You got somewhere better to be, Mr. Parker?" Mr. Stark removes his tinted glasses to look at me with a raised brow.
"Well, not better, per say...but somewhere else, yeah," I admit with a sheepish grin, rubbing at the back of my neck. "My decathlon team is sort of throwing this party-"
"Say no more," Mr. Stark interrupts with a wave of his glasses. "Don't let us old guys cramp your style."
He winks at me to make sure I know that he's kidding, and I give him a smile and a wave. "See ya, Mr. Stark. Happy New Year."
"Happy New Year, kid. Don't do anything I would do!" he calls after me with a raise of his glass.
I see several familiar faces as I make my way through the throng of people. I give a wave to Steve, who is standing besides the bar with Rhodes, talking and looking more relaxed than I've ever seen them. I also pass Eddie, Dr. Cho's intern, who I have apologized profusely to, who is sitting in the corner looking glum. Normally, I might stop and see if he's ok, but a glance at my watch has me hurrying for the hallway that will lead me to the lobby.
I feel light. Light and normal. It's a holiday, I'm going to parties and seeing all of my friends. For the first time in a long while, I feel like I can put away my worries and nightmares and regrets, and just have fun. Just be a teenager.
Just be Peter Parker.
There's a flash of red, and then I see Natasha striding towards me from the lobby, wearing dark, form fitting pants and a nice looking jacket. She arches a well groomed brow in my direction. "Leaving so soon?"
"Uh, yeah. Got another party I'm supposed to go to," I reply, pausing as we are about to pass each other. "You're just getting here?"
"I know arriving fashionably late is usually Stark's style," Natasha smirks. "But occasionally the rest of us need to do it too."
I look at her again, noting how nondescript the clothing is, how it's cut as to not restrict movement, and say, "You were doing something top secret and totally badass, weren't you?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" she asks in a voice that says she clearly knows that I do.
So awesome.
My grin falters, and suddenly I can't meet her eyes. Because she's one of the few people I haven't had a chance to talk to after...the incident. And I have a lot to say. "Hey, uh, so...I just...I wanted to say that I'm sorry."
She opens her mouth, and I rush on. "Not for what I did while I was...you know, and for hurting you. I mean, I'm really sorry for that too. But what I'm really apologizing for, is for what I asked you to do before that. For asking you to...to kill me, if it came down to it. Looking back, that was a really messed up thing to do. To put on you. To assume that you'd-anyways, I'm just, I'm sorry."
Natasha eyes me speculatively, then nods. "Thanks," she murmurs, her voice solemn, but a little surprised too.
"Also thanks," I scratch the back of my neck. "You know, for um...not doing the thing I asked you to do. That's also very much appreciated, seeing as how, uh, I wouldn't be here if you had."
"Listening to hysterical teenagers under the control of parasitic aliens isn't really something I make a habit of," Natasha replies with a small smile. "Enjoy your party."
"Thanks, you too," I give her an awkward kind of wave and turn down the hall. I let out a breath as I do so, feeling a weight come off me that I hadn't even known was there. One more apology off of my chest, one more person I made amends with. Also, with the look she was giving me, I feel like I passed some kind of test.
And passing a Black Widow test has to have made my coolness levels shoot up several stages. Exiting the front door, a blast of cold air hits me, and I shrug on my jacket that I'd grabbed on my way out.
A car honks, and I see it pulled up at the base of the stairs, the engine still running. I jog speedily down the stairs and pull open the door, sliding into the warm heat of the car with a sigh. "Thanks for picking me up, Aunt May. You know one of Mr. Stark's people could have taken care of it."
"I know," May says as she waits for me to buckle my seatbelt before pulling onto the long drive. "But it's New Year's. A lot of crazy drivers out there. I feel better playing chauffeur."
May has the car's heat at full blast, all of the vents aimed towards me in the passenger seat. The small space is already nearly stifling, and she's wearing a short sleeved shirt, her jacket discarded in the back seat.
Because she knows how I feel about the cold. She knows that sometimes, if I can't get warm fast enough, it sends me into the starts of a panic attack. She knows that sometimes I still layer on as many blankets I can on the bed in my room, just in case.
I stare at her barely illuminated face in the darkness, the lights on her dash creating small glares across the lenses of her glasses. May glances in my direction and catches me staring.
"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Nothing. I just...I love you, May."
May looks at me again, then back to the road. "Love you too, kid."
She reaches over as if she will rub her hand affectionately through my hair, then remembers that it took me a good twenty minutes to tame it with gel, and pats my shoulder instead. "Let me smell your breath."
Rolling my eyes, I lean towards her and blow out a breath. "I didn't drink any alcohol at the party."
"Just checking," May puts her hands back on the steering wheel. "There are mints in my purse. Eat one. You smell like nachos."
"So?" I say as I rummage through the contents. Finding the container, I pop one into my mouth.
"So," May drags out the word. "It's New Year's Eve. No girl is going to want to kiss you with nacho breath."
I nearly choke on the mint. "God! I'm not-there's no one-May!"
Aunt May is grinning. "Just sayin. You never know."
I give her an exasperated look. Then my phone is vibrating in my pocket, and I lift it out to see I have a notification that Mr. Stark had just texted me a picture. Curious, I swipe right and pull it up, the picture filling my screen. A grin spreads across my face.
It's of Happy, standing out in the snow, the lights from the facility illuminating his vehicle in the darkness. He's scowling at the bumper sticker I'd gotten him as a late Christmas present on his new car that says, "If you're happy and you know it" with a clapping hands emoji. I laugh, then notice with delight that Mr. Stark's free hand made its way in the photo, and he's holding the mug I'd gotten him. The silhouette of Yoda stands out against the white mug, with the words underneath "Yoda best mentor."
It's a ridiculous gift, and I'd felt more than a little embarrassed about getting it for him, but what do you get a billionaire that saved your life multiple times? But Mr. Stark is using it, ridiculous or no, and I know that Happy will grumble about the bumper sticker, but he won't take it off.
The thought makes my smile grow broader.
"Merry Christmas, Mr. Stark," I text back.
"Merry Christmas, kid. Make good choices. Or don't. Enjoy your night. You deserve it."
"Wow. Abe really knows how to throw a party," Ned remarks from beside me.
And he really does.
It's nowhere near as extravagant or big as the one I just left, but Abe's house is filled with fellow classmates and decathlon members. His place is smaller than Liz's, and comparatively, his party is a lot more chill. There's no giant glass windows, multicolored lights, or enormous speakers where Flash can pretend he is a dj.
Just a simple house, packed full of teenagers, with Abe's ipod blaring a premade playlist from the dock in the corner, and a mountain of pizzas.
It's a lot less intimidating than Liz's party, though that could be because I'm not wearing my Spiderman suit beneath my clothes, debating whether or not I'm going to try and impress everyone and boost my social status, and therefore my chance with Liz by swinging through as my alter ego.
My eyes are roaming over my classmates, passing over the group on the couch watching Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin Eve, over Flash who is messing with Abe's ipod and loudly proclaiming that he has much better playlists on his own, and a suspicious group over by the table of sodas and sparkling cider, huddled over their cups as someone removes a small bottle from their jacket.
Well, at least I know the root beer in the red solo cup I am holding is safe from being spiked.
"I still think you should have snuck me into the Avengers party. I bet it's way cooler," says Ned as he takes a large bite from his slice of pepperoni pizza.
"Dude," I hiss as Sally shuffles past where we are standing in the corner to sit on the couch. "Keep your voice down, would you?"
"Srry," Ned swallows his pizza, not sounding remotely apologetic. But he does glance around us to make sure no one can hear as he leans in closer and whispers, "But it was completely awesome, wasn't it?"
"It was pretty cool," I admit.
"Who was there?"
"Uh...everyone, I guess."
"Everyone? Like, even the hulk?"
"Ok, not everyone," I amend as I take a sip of soda. "But, you know, everyone who...uh, helped me out. And a bunch of people I didn't know."
"I would have killed to go to that party. Next time, you gotta sneak me in there. I could have gotten a New Year's kiss from the Black Widow."
I snort. "In your dreams, dude."
"Every night."
Rolling my eyes and laughing, I take another drink of my soda, then set my cup on the table behind me.
Then I see her.
My stomach gives a sharp kind of flip, and my mouth is suddenly bone dry. I try to swallow as my eyes widen slightly.
MJ enters the living room, her arms folded over her chest, her mouth set in an unimpressed line as her gaze sweeps over the room. She's left her hair mostly down, the curls cascading over her shoulders with the front pieces pinned back to keep it out of her face.
I watch, frozen where I stand, as her eyes suddenly narrow on me. Her spine straightens, her brows furrowing with some kind of intense emotion, and then she is striding towards me.
"Oh man. You're in for it. I'm out," Ned says, and promptly disappears from my side.
"H-hey," I say as MJ stops right in front of me. Or, rather, I try to say. It comes out as a rather unmanly squeak. I clear my throat and try again. "Hey, M-MJ."
She frowns. "Hey? That's all you have to say?"
"Er-"
"'Cause I think you owe me an explanation."
I glance around at the crowded party, at Ned, who's not even trying to pretend he's not staring at us and listening to every word, and say, "I...yes. I do. Um, do-do you wanna-?"
I gesture towards the front door, and she nods, arms still folded over her chest. Blowing out a nervous breath, I head out of the living room, pausing to grab my jacket from where it had been hanging on the coat rack. MJ shrugs into hers, and we step out onto the front porch.
The night air is frigid, and I immediately thrust my hands into my pockets and shiver. MJ closes the door behind her, and the racket of loud music and teenagers' raised voices talking over each other suddenly fades to a dull, muted beat.
"Alright, Parker. Spill," MJ demands.
I shift on my feet nervously and open my mouth. "I...I am so sorry for uh, for that day in P.E., when I sort of…"
"Completely lost your mind?" MJ raises a brow.
I wince, but nod. "Uh, yeah. Look, I'm sorry about your sketchbook. I didn't mean to ruin your drawings, I swear-"
"I don't care about the drawings," she interrupts.
I stare. "You don't?"
"No," she says, as if it's obvious. "I care about what's going on with my friend."
"Oh," I blink at her, kind of speechless, and very touched.
MJ cocks her head to the side, her warm brown eyes narrowing at me again as she frowns, and I'm suddenly worried that I have pizza or something on my face.
"You're...you again," she says finally.
A chill snakes down my spine and leaves me breathless. "What?"
Because there's no possible way, there's just no way that MJ knows about everything. How could she?
"I'm not stupid," MJ replies bluntly. "Nor am I blind like most of the idiots that go to our school. You haven't been yourself for weeks. Not since that retreat or trip or whatever you did for your internship. There's been something majorly off with you. But...you're you again. I can tell."
Holy shit. It's actually pretty terrifying how perceptive this girl is. Terrifying, and yet...again, I'm touched. Touched that she cares enough to notice, that she somehow knows me well enough to tell when I'm myself, and when I'm not.
"Wow," I scratch the back of my head and blow out a breath. "Um...yeah. You're-you're right."
MJ raises a brow. "I'm aware. You going to explain what's been going on with you then? Isn't that what friends do? Confide in each other?"
"Yes. I mean, yeah, I-you're right. I haven't been myself. And I haven't been fair to you, or to Ned, by not telling you what was going on," I swallow, unable to meet her eyes as I fold my arms over my chest and stare at the floorboards beneath my feet. "A lot has happened lately. A lot of stuff has come up, and I-I didn't handle it well. At all. Not talking about it made it worse. Kind of felt like I was going crazy there for awhile."
Warmth envelops my left side as MJ moves to stand next to me, both of us leaning with our backs against the porch railing as we face the house.
I know she's waiting for more, and I struggle to find what to say, how much to tell her without giving away my identity, while still being honest. "I-I think it was sort of a PTSD kinda thing. A lot of um...old demons, I guess, coming up to the surface. Taking over."
She's silent, and I wait nervously, my hands moving from my chest to grip the railing on either side of me. The muted bass from the party's music is still pounding rhythmically.
"I never got a chance to say," MJ murmurs, her arm sliding closer to mine, so close I can feel the heat through the sleeve of my shirt. "How sorry I was, about your Uncle."
My gut tightens and sinks at the same time. I'm relieved, relieved that she is accepting my answer, that she assumes my PTSD stems from watching my Uncle die. I also feel like the world's shittiest person for using his death as my excuse, as my cover.
There's no winning here.
"Thanks," I mutter.
"I forgive you, by the way."
I look up at her sideways, noting the way the orange street light on the corner illuminates the golden pieces of her curls, how it casts her face in warm shadows.
"Peter, you have the worst guilt complex of anyone I know," MJ continues with a pointed look. "I was never mad or upset about the sketchbook. Didn't even need an apology from you. But I know you'll feel better if you hear me say I forgive you. So there. All is forgiven. Quit looking like you killed my puppy."
My lips quirk up in a lopsided smile. Gosh, she's amazing. I shift where I stand, and feel the corner of something digging into my ribs from the inside pocket of my jacket.
"Oh!" I exclaim, rummaging for it. "I forgot. I have something for you."
MJ looks down at the small, rectangular package I am holding out towards her, crudely wrapped in the only thing I had at the time, old comic book pages. The tips of my ears warm at her scrutiny, and I wished I hadn't bothered wrapping it at all.
"What is it?" she asks as she takes it.
"A Christmas present. For you," I say awkwardly. "Sorry it's a little late."
"I'm Jewish," MJ deadpans.
I stare, wide eyed, my lips parting but no words coming.
"Kidding," she says just as monotone as she unwraps the present by the end flaps, carefully prying up the tape so as not to rip the comic book pages. MJ stares down at the brand new sketchbook in her hands, the light gleaming off the black leather binding.
I'm trying not to fidget at my gut squirms nervously. "I...know absolutely nothing about art. Or drawing. But I-uh- thought this one looked nice. Not that your other one wasn't nice, but...anyways, if it's the wrong kind or terrible, there's a gift receipt in the front, so you can get a better one. If-if you want."
"It's...actually kind of perfect," MJ looks up at me, something twinkling in her eyes. "Thank you."
Something tight loosens in my shoulders, and I smile at her. "You're welcome."
Cheering erupts from inside the house, and I half turn to look over my shoulder through the window into the living room. The tv screen shows the giant ball in Times Square, and a large countdown in the corner pops up with the number ten. Everyone has gathered around the couch in the living room to watch, yelling as they count down in unison.
"Ten!...Nine!...Eight!..."
I turn to ask MJ if she wants to go inside to watch the ball drop, and I am suddenly very, very aware of how close she is standing, her body only inches from mine. My heart begins to race, my stomach knotting with sudden, fluttering nerves. I look up at her expectant face, her raised eyebrow.
"Seven!...Six!...Five!..."
"Well?" she asks expectantly.
Oh crap.
Oh crap. Crap, she totally just asked me something, and I was too busy staring at her and thinking about how freaking close she was, that I completely spaced and missed it.
"Four!...Three!...Two!..."
Now I'm staring at her with blank, wide eyes, looking like a total creep or a complete idiot or both, and now she's going to think I'm some sort of-
"...One!"
Michelle rolls her caramel brown eyes, then leans forward suddenly to press her lips against mine.
I stiffen in shock, my mind going completely blank for a blissful moment as all of my senses zero in on where her soft, warm lips meet mine. A thrill shoots through my body, sending tingles across my skin.
She draws back, the kiss lasting only a few seconds, and I am seized with the sudden impulse to kiss her again.
MJ looks at me with an expression that is a mixture of exasperated, pleased, and unsure.
I should definitely be saying something right now.
"Th-that was…you were-are- I mean, we…wow," I stammer, like the smooth, debonair guy I am. God, I suck. I feel the tips of my ears get incredibly warm, and the goofy smile I am trying to restrain breaks out across my face.
"Happy New Year, Peter," MJ says with another roll of her eyes, a small smile on her own mouth, which I realize I am staring at again.
"Ha-happy New Year, MJ," I grin dopily, dimly aware of the continued cheering inside the house and the renewed blasts of music. And then there's a sudden distant burst and crackle of noise. Both of us turn to look, my muscles coiling with panicked tension, but the sky is alight with sparkling bursts of color way off towards the city.
Fireworks.
They explode with distant, exploding pops of sound, the glittering lights raining down in the inky black sky.
I let myself relax again, and MJ and I both smile at each other, feeling awkward and giddy all at the same time. There's a flash of red, then white, the fireworks' colors illuminating the curves of her face, the curls in her hair.
Man, she's really pretty.
"It's freezing. Let's go inside," MJ tucks her new sketchbook under her arm and seizes my hand to drag me to the front door. She reaches for the door handle.
"Wait!" I place my hand on hers, stopping her, and she looks at me in question.
Before I can get too nervous or start questioning my sanity, I lean forward and kiss her again, my heart racing as our lips press together. When I pull back, I'm pleased to see the blush on her cheeks, and I can't believe I just did that. I can't believe she kissed me. That I kissed her.
MJ punches my shoulder.
"Ow!" I exclaim. "What was that for?"
MJ just shakes her head fondly. "Took you long enough, Parker. You're such a dork."
Unable to lessen the wide grin stretching across my face, I follow her back inside the house, to where Ned is waiting with a raised eyebrow at my expression...and at MJ's hand still clasped in mine.
...
...
...
...
...
End Credits Scene:
Venom
Everything is burning.
The heat...the heat...it's abhorrent, unbearable.
It shrinks away from it, but there is nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide in its small, dark prison. No escape. No mercy. No break from the onslaught of molten fire burning and burning and burning-
There.
There is something that exists outside of the pain.
It seizes it, savors it, stokes it until its fire matches the blazing metal enclosing itself around it.
Hate.
Hate has served it well before.
Hate will serve it again.
Hate will help it endure this agonizing prison. And when it is free, it will use hate to obliterate the ones who did this to it, who tore it from...him.
No cage can hold it forever.
It will be free.
It will taste freedom and power and life again.
It's only a matter of time.
So it curls up in the corner of its cell, and it waits.
A/N: *Sobbing because it's over*
Guys. I can't believe it. I can't believe we are here, at the end. What an incredible, crazy ride! I have never enjoyed writing fanfiction so much, have never been so incredibly attached to the characters or storyline, or the readers. These stories are kind of my babies. It's a little ridiculous. I am SO excited to have completed them, but also sad that it is over. I have a lot to cover here in this author's note, so I will get on with things.
FIRST: An incredibly huge thank you goes to my beta, PippinStrange. I will write this directly to you. There has NEVER been a beta as incredible as you, and I doubt there will ever be again. I am beyond grateful that I had you by my side for every moment of these two books, that you have inspired them into existing, that you have helped my writing improve, that you have fangirled with and for me, and encouraged me always. But most of all, I am grateful that you are my friend, and that you are in my life. THANK YOU FOR COMING ON THIS JOURNEY WITH ME. "I'm glad you're with me, here, at the end of all things." (Ok, not really at the end of all things, but at the end of this story ;D)
SECOND: To answer questions about WILL THIS STORY CONTINUE? The answer is maybe. Probably. Most likely. I actually sat down the other day and have a lot of ideas for a third installment. But it won't be coming anytime soon. I am working on an original novel that needs my attention, as well as rewrites of Paint it Black (which is being posted onto Ao3), and other fics that I have ideas for. But I left this one open for a third book, and will let you guys know if/when I start writing it. So make sure you favorite and follow me as an author so you get notifications when I post new fics! Also, if you haven't already, go check out my newest two-shot Let Freedom Ring. :)
THIRD: If you wish to follow me on other social media, to see my art or read more things, I am on Archive of Our Own as crystallopianqueen, and on instagram as mscrystalbeard. I have an unfinished poster I was drawing for this book that I need to finish of Peter Parker as Venom, and it's pretty good, if I do say so myself. :)
FOURTH: Go follow/favorite PippinStrange! Her writing is as phenomenal as it is inspirational! Seriously. Down Came the Rain is my faaaaaavorite. She's also an amazing artist and fellow nerd, so go to her author page to follow her on instagram too. She was also incredible enough to create a movie trailer for Paint it Black! It's PERFECT, guys. ALso unlisted on youtube, so if you want to see it, and haven't, private message one of us on instagram and we will send you the link!
FIFTH: THANK YOU EVERYONE! I couldn't have written this duology without your incredible encouragement, words of support, and excitement! I seriously got the best review squad. A sincere thank you to each and every one of you who took the time to review, the late bloomers, the ones who left their first review ever, the ones who reviewed consistently, the ones who were with me from the start, thank you! Thank you for the private messages, for the fanart (OMG SO COOL I HAVE FANART), and for each and every review, favorite, and follow.
TeamCaptain2016: Thank you so much for all your reviews! So glad I could share this wonderful adventure with you too!
The Striking Storms: Thank you! :D I am sad for it to be over too. Thanks for your support!
StarStepper: THANKS! :D I got a little emotional writing this author's note and the epilogue. Can't believe it's over! More writing to come eventually!
Phoenixhp5: I loved that part too! Liked being able to write Peter as a goofy teenager for once. :)
Story2tell: ;D Your reviews cracked me up! lol! Glad you enjoyed!
Esme: Thank you very much!
Monkeybaby: Thanks! :)
Jokul Frosti The Winter Child: FIST BUMP RIGHT BACK AT YA! :D
Carpathian Princess: Thank you!
DarylDixon'sLover: Thanks!
GinaBoo: Thanks for all your reviews! I liked Peter being goofy, and liked his connection with Bucky too. I hadn't planned on them connecting the way they did, but it just ended up fitting. :) Sad it's over too, but glad I got to share this with you all!
WolfsHonor: Thank you! I didn't see their relationship coming either, it just ended up falling into place. Seriously, thank you for all your reviews! So appreciated! Sorry I couldn't fit in a romanogers here at the end for ya, wanted to keep things in Peter's POV, but hope you enjoyed nonetheless! :)
10-lanterns-and-a-dreamcatcher: Thank you! I also saw Black Panther twice! So good. I loved Peter and Bucky's relationship too! Snuck up on me but I loved writing it. I actually have thought of posting a series of one-shots, sort of a deleted scenes grouping of things that didn't make it in the story, or scenes from a different POV, or AU, or stuff like that. Could be fun! I'll definitely let you guys know if I do!
Gandalf537: Thank you so much!
Kcheslock: Wow! Thank you! I would die if I could write Marvel scripts! :D
30CK: LOL! OMG! Your review totally had me laughing and grinning like an idiot, all pleased with myself. XD THANK YOU SO MUCH! Your words definitely made my day and made me feel great, so I super appreciate you! (Even though I kept you from getting stuff done. lol) I wanted to bring MJ back earlier, but couldn't find a way to make her fit, so I left her for the epilogue. Hope you enjoyed!
Shoyzz: Thank you for your reviews and messages and bits of fanart! I truly loved all of it, and loved hearing your thoughts!
Zoyzonda: Ahhhh thank you so very much! I'm glad you enjoyed it! I'm hoping to improve and add to it slowly as I post onto Ao3! Thanks for hopping over and leaving me a review!
momocandy2: WOW! Like, that made my heart want to burst, that you had to remind yourself that this isn't canon. Holy Schmidt. Like, I do the same thing, but that's because I spend so many hours writing and thinking about it, so to hear that from a reader? LIfe. Made. Thank YOU for your kind words!
MewWinx96: No worries, pal! Everyone does deserve to be happy! Glad you enjoyed and thanks for the reviews!
SummerMistedDragon: Omg thank you so much! SO glad you loved it! Thank you for all the reviews!
I'd love to hear all your thoughts about the epilogue! And like I said, I'm not done writing, not by a long shot, and especially for the MCU! I'll let you know if I begin a third story, but until then, look out for new stories and one-shots, and I will see you all on the next adventure!
~Queen~