Ursula knocked on Peter's door, holding a plate of pecan cookies in one sweaty hand and a glass of milk in the other. She'd dropped by because she couldn't resist the lure of seeing that adorable smile on his face whenever she baked for him. Especially the way his eyes lit up with excitement over such a simple gesture. She could hardly contain her giddy anticipation as she heard Peter's footsteps approaching the door. As he opened it without difficulty this time, she saw his polite smile slowly dissolve at the sight of the milk and cookies.

"Hey. Brought you some more cookies," Ursula said, fully aware that she was grinning like a madwoman.

"Ursula, you didn't have to..." Peter didn't finish his sentence, clearly embarrassed as he stared at her. Then, looking like he realized he was being rude, he opened the door further, motioning for her to come inside. "Sorry. Come in."

Ursula walked in a little confused by his reaction as she set the cookies and milk on his dining kitchen counter. As she turned back to look at him she noticed his hair was neatly parted to the side like it had been before his drastic personality change. Her mouth opened and shut as she grasped at something to say, but nothing came to mind. She was flustered, not expecting this.

"I'm so glad Spider-Man didn't die like it seemed he would," Ursula finally said when she was able to speak, deciding that small talk was the best course of action. "I was really worried about him, watching the coverage on the news."

There was a strange expression on Peter's face as he seemed to process her words. His lips pursed into a grim line for a moment before he caught himself, forcing an amiable expression onto his face. It didn't quite reach his eyes, though. "Yeah. Well, he survived," he said. "Like always." He didn't sound happy when he said it. If she wasn't imagining things, he'd almost said it as though it was regrettable.

Ursula nodded, though she felt some concern as to what this response meant. Not only that, but there was also a hollowness in his eyes that hadn't been there just a few days ago. Even his voice sounded strained and raspy as though he'd been...crying? Right when she was about to ask him if he was alright, Peter spoke again.

"It was nice of your dad to fix my door. He really shouldn't have, after I yelled at him like that. I still feel so bad." Peter laughed a little, crossing his arms.

"You were probably just having a bad day," Ursula said, mostly to reassure herself. "You didn't mean it."

"A bad day. Right. Well, it's no excuse for me to raise my voice like that at your father. He's always been kind to me. I mean, when he's not demanding I pay rent, anyway." Peter smiled sheepishly at Ursula, making her heart flutter. She always thought he had such a sweet boyish smile. It was one of the things about him that made her weak in the knees. And he was such a nice guy, a rarity in this world. Always so kind and polite, making her feel like she was appreciated just for existing.

Without thinking, she blurted out, "I liked your hair like that. When you styled it differently. The black hair. Why'd you change it back?" She knew she was babbling, but she couldn't help it. He always brought out this side of her.

She realized it may have been the wrong thing to say when she saw him visibly cringe as though she'd triggered a torrent of horrific memories.

He combed a hand through his hair as though to make sure it was how he normally styled it. "I was just...going through a phase," he said awkwardly. "I wasn't myself at the time. Really, really wasn't. I acted like a total idiot in every possible way. Not exactly a time in my life I'm proud of. At all." This time she definitely detected regret in his voice. He sounded pained, as though he was speaking about something hellish. "I...hurt people."

Ursula frowned, not expecting him to be so harsh on himself. Other than the incident where he'd yelled at her father, she hadn't noticed anything else particularly bad that he'd done. Yet the agitated look in his eyes and him saying he'd hurt people told of something dark lurking beneath the surface. Had Peter really done something that was deserving of reprimanding? It was hard to imagine him hurting anyone. He was so innocent-looking, and even innocent-sounding. She still remembered how shocked she'd been when she'd heard him yell in that tone of voice that wasn't at all befitting of someone so gentle in nature.

"And you really didn't have to bake me cookies, either," Peter said, changing the subject. This time he sounded like himself, but she couldn't help but feel like he was trying to suppress things. "I mean, it's really sweet of you, but I feel like I'm taking advantage of your kindness." Peter scratched the back of his head as Ursula's heart fell at this.

"It's not like that, Pete," Ursula said, voice wavering threateningly. "I honestly like baking for you. I really do. But...if it bothers you that much, I can take them back." For some reason, she felt like she might start crying herself.

Peter sighed. "No...no, it's fine. Just forget it. I'm sorry. Thanks, Ursula. For being sweet." And he smiled kindly at her, the stress in his face melting away momentarily, revealing the soft-hearted man he was.

Ursula beamed in return, feeling better now as her heart began flooding with warmth from the way he looked at her. Yes, she knew he was with Mary Jane, but she couldn't help but revel in moments like this anyway. It just felt so nice, like she was basking in the glow of her own hero, an ordinary guy who made her feel special.

When she left his apartment and he shut the door behind her, she expelled a breath of relief that she hadn't made a total fool of herself this time, like she usually did when she saw him. For the next hour or so she'd replay that look in his eyes in her head, as she imagined herself feeding him cookies and even reaching out to tousle his hair. Truthfully, when he'd cockily flirted with her, she'd practically swooned into his arms. Something about him doing a complete one eighty like that made him even more attractive than he already was. Like it was something out of a wild dream she could have had.

She did feel a bit concerned as to why he looked so strained and tired. Was he being overworked? Were he and Mary Jane having relationship troubles? All she knew was she hated seeing him looking so down in the dumps. It didn't suit the docile person she was accustomed to.

And maybe he was unattainable, but perhaps that was something else that made him so tempting. Although she'd always hold on to the hope deep down that maybe one day she could at least wrap her arms around him and hold him close to her, feel his heart pounding against her. See if he really was as strong as he looked.

Strong...like Spider-Man.