So I heard "Where My Christmas Lives" by 3 Doors Down a few days ago and suddenly knew I had to write a Christmas fix-it to No Way Home. I had hoped to post this on Christmas but couldn't quite manage because of holiday prep. I hope you still enjoy.
Light me a candle, I'm coming home
Then leave it by your side where I belong
I've been in this cold world for so long
So light me a candle, I'm coming home
"Where My Christmas Lives," 3 Doors Down
Peter had always loved Christmas.
Christmas turned New York into a kinder place, bright and glittering. It was full of friends and family and fun, all his favorite things. Ben and May had been deliberate about traditions, so Peter was used to a list of holiday activities that could always brighten his spirits, no matter how cold or tired or stressed he might be.
So his first Christmas alone is rough.
Peter is trying to make the best of this being forgotten by everyone thing. He really is. He'd got an apartment and a job, and made himself a new suit to honor Peter 2 and Peter 3, who had saved him from a really dark place. Adulting is hard, and maybe he hadn't paid quite enough attention to things like budgeting and what kind of clothes could go in the laundry together. But he is figuring it out.
The loneliness is the worst. But he's coping. He goes to the diner once … or twice … or sometimes three times a week. Those few awkward words with MJ bolster him right up. Every overheard burst of enthusiasm from Ned sends him back to simpler times. They are safe, and they are thriving, and that is enough for Peter. It has to be.
But then the city starts decorating for Christmas, and every twinkling light and oversized tree is a reminder of everything he'd loved and lost. He feels like that grandma, run over by a reindeer, and now Santa's minions are prancing across his grave, over and over and over again.
And maybe he's losing it just a little. But all he hears are Christmas songs, played by his neighbor at a volume Peter's super-senses can't tune out. And all he sees is cheer—mittens and ice skates and families walking hand-in-hand with hot chocolates and frantic fathers buying last minutes presents and even the exorbitant volume of decorations in MJ's diner, which surely her boss made her put up herself. Peter can imagine her rant, how this isn't part of her job description and her boss just made her do it because she was the youngest on staff and he knows she needs the money for MIT. Peter can picture the way her brow would furrow. How he'd get distracted by the lock of hair falling into her face. Brush it away. Press a kiss to her forehead. Promise to help her decorate, because he loved decorating and he was super good at it because of the stickiness.
He hopes Ned helped.
On his first Christmas Eve alone he wakes with a terrible knowledge that he has nowhere to be. No plans. No anticipation. No one waiting for him.
It had only been 47 days. How is he supposed to live like this for 47 weeks? 47 months? 47 years?
He goes out in the suit, because that's who he is now. He needs to help everyone he can, because that's what May wanted. That's his responsibility. Peter Parker erased so that Spider-Man could be the hero New York needs, even if he's not the hero New York wants.
But it's a quiet day. He helps chase down a runaway dog. Helps a little old man across the street. Breaks up a minor brawl after an ugly sweater contest gets a bit too competitive.
He finds a homeless guy in an alley and is struck with an idea. He goes back to his apartment and makes a big carafe of hot chocolate, thinking of May all the while, and spends most of the afternoon delivering hot drinks to anyone who needs one. He escorts a few guys to a shelter. Sits with others who refuse to leave, telling them that no one deserves to be alone on Christmas. It helps, even as it hurts. At least he has a roof over his head. But he has to find a way to make this city better. There are just so many who don't.
When his third carafe is empty and darkness has fallen, he heads to the cemetery.
The place is dark and empty, so he pulls off his mask as he sits down in front of the grave. "Merry Christmas, May," he says, hugging his knees to his chest. "I bought you a poinsettia, but it's back at my place. I'll bring it by tomorrow."
There is a wreath on the grave, dotted with holly and a large, shiny ribbon. "I see Happy's been here."
He tells her about his patrol, just like he would if she were alive. He knows when she would laugh, how she would reply. He tells her about the hot chocolate and imagines her telling him that she was proud.
"I really miss you today." When his tears start he doesn't blink them away. He closes his eyes and leans into the feeling. "I miss you all the time, May. I'm not sure how long I can do this."
But then a hand ruffles through his hair before it slides down to his shoulder, squeezing gently. "I didn't raise a quitter."
He opens his eyes and there she is, wearing her favorite ugly Christmas sweater, with Rudolph's pom-pom nose as big as her fist. She looks down at him, smiling gently.
"May?"
"Merry Christmas, Peter." She leans down and presses a kiss to his forehead, and then settles next to him on the couch. They are back in their old apartment, with all its familiar disarray. The tree is lit. The air smells like May's favorite holiday candle. There are two empty mugs on the coffee table, with marshmallow dregs at the bottom.
"How are we here?"
She looks at him with such familiar fondness that it breaks his heart and knits it back together. No one's looked at him like that in so long.
"No one's supposed to be alone on Christmas."
"I wasn't alone. I came to see you."
She shakes her head like he's said something ridiculous. "What about Ned and MJ?"
A shiver goes up and down his spine. It's almost like his Peter tingle. There is danger here, but it's not towards him. He is the danger, to everyone he loves.
"They're better off without me."
"Did you decide that, or did they?" May's voice is steel now, and Peter doesn't know what he's done to earn this lecture. He's not even bleeding on the carpet.
"I'm a danger to everyone around me. My parents. Ben. Tony … You." Because surely she knows that. Surely she knows she's dead. Surely she knows it's his fault.
"Peter Benjamin Parker. I taught you better than that. This world does not revolve around you."
"I know that." He looks down at his fingernails, which he's bitten to the quick. The tears are back, hot behind his eyelids.
But May is there, brushing them away with her thumb, and then she's cradling his face, her warm hands so gentle. "Peter, baby, look at me."
He obeys. He has to. What he wouldn't give for this to be real.
"When you love someone, you want to do anything you can to protect them, right? To keep them safe."
"Yes!" he says, and then he clears his throat. "Exactly. That's why I have to stay away. I can't let MJ and Ned get hurt. I just can't."
"The thing about love, Peter, is that both people feel like that. But if they never move past that fear, there's no way to build a life together. MJ and Ned don't want you to be hurt either. Even if it puts them at risk."
"I can't lose them too, May. I just can't."
And May pulls him forward and wraps him in the hug he's been craving, her lips on his temple, her arms tight across his back. But her voice is firm when she finally speaks. "You promised them Peter. You promised you would make them remember. I didn't raise a liar."
She didn't. He has always tried so hard to be good.
"What if they don't believe me?" He heaves a shuddering breath and whispers, "What if they do, but they wish I'd kept them in the dark?"
"No one could ever want to forget you, Peter."
He's always believed May. Tonight is no exception.
He pulls away a bit but curls into her side. She runs her hand through his hair, and he doesn't bat her away.
"I'm proud of you, Peter," she says. "But you can't do everything on your own. Even your shoulders can't carry the weight of the world. Promise me you'll get some help. I don't want to have to worry about you."
"I promise, May."
"Then you best get going."
He shakes his head against her chest. "Can't I stay a little longer? Let's put on a movie. Order some food?" He'd not ready to let her go. Not when it's so good to have her back.
"No can do. You know your thermoregulation sucks. It's time to wake up now, or you might not ever. I'll see you again, but hopefully not for a very long time. You have a lot of good to do in this world, Peter."
The apartment is fading around the edges, twinkling with some cartoon effect. There is loss, devastating loss, but he can still feel her arms around him. He thinks he might be able to hold on to that even after he wakes.
"I won't forget you, May. Everything you stood for … it isn't lost. I'll keep it going."
Her arms squeeze around him one more time.
"I know, Peter. Just don't lose yourself in the process. You're the one I love, you know. Not Spider-Man. Don't let him become all you are."
He nods. "Okay."
"Promise me, Peter."
He tries to burn her image in his memory so he will never forget. "I promise."
The room has already faded when she whispers, "Keep your promises."
He wakes stiff, numb, and half frozen in the cemetery, his heartbeat dangerously sluggish but his spirits significantly lifted. "Thank you, May," he chatters, pressing his trembling fingers to her name on the gravestone. "I'll come back tomorrow." He stands, clutching the carafe to his chest, and looks down one last time before he puts on his mask. "Maybe I'll bring Ned and MJ to say hello."
He swings back to his apartment as fast as he can manage. He knows he needs to go now, before he loses his nerve. He changes quickly and heads back into the street.
He and Ned always spent Christmas Eves at Ned's Lola's house. She always cooked an exorbitant amount of delicious food and then went to bed early, leaving Ned and Peter to watch Christmas movies for hours. MJ had been invited this year, and while she claimed not to like Christmas movies she had agreed to come as long as she could watch them ironically.
Peter hopes the plan hasn't changed. It would be more awkward to find them tomorrow, when they are with their families. And he is afraid this resolve might fade with the memory of the dream. Seeing May again has reminded him of who he used to be. Who he desperately wants to be again. But he can't be that person without his friends.
So he knocks on Lola's door, twice as nervous as the day he went to MJ's diner. It isn't until Ned opens the door that Peter realizes he doesn't know what he's going to say.
"Oh, hey," Ned says, tilting his head. He's wearing a Santa hat and a Christmas Star Wars ugly sweater. "Aren't you the diner guy?"
Peter's heart breaks a little, but he forges on. "Yeah. Yes. Merry Christmas, Ned."
"Technically it's Christmas Eve, loser. And I'm not sure what part of stalking is merry." MJ comes up behind Ned, dressed in a black sweater and black tights with a black miniskirt and a small red bow tucked into her hair.
She is breathtaking, and for a second Peter can only gape.
"Dude," Ned whispers, and he smacks Peter on the shoulder gently. "Don't stare. She can kill you. She has skills."
"What are you doing here, Peter Parker?" MJ crosses her arms, her feet planted in a fighting stance. Peter knows if he places his hands on her shoulders and leans in close he can get her to soften. He just has to say something dumb and flash her his smile. She can't quite resist him, and it infuriates her, and he loves it.
But now is not the time.
"I came to wish you a Merry Christmas … Eve," he adds at her glare. "Merry Christmas Eve."
"How did you know where we'd be? I know you're stalking me but I didn't know you were stalking Ned too."
"What? I'm not stalking you!" he squeaks.
"Pretty sure you are."
"I'm not. But I do have something to tell you."
Her all-knowing look is so familiar. "You're Spider-Man."
"What? No!" he sputters. "I mean, yeah, I am, but I wasn't going to lead with that." He runs a hand over his hair. He still feels like a popsicle. Maybe it would have been smart to defrost his brain before attempting this conversation. He cannot think of a single intelligent thing to say. "How did you figure it out?"
"You're so weird every time you come in the diner. Half the time you rush off like Clark Kent. The other half you're covered in cuts and bruises, like you're in some sort of fight club. And Spider-Man's been following me home whenever I close. Maybe you think you're being chivalrous, but I was totally freaked out thinking someone was watching me until I realized it was you."
He rubs at the back of his neck. "Sorry?" He still can't see how to make this better, so he pulls the speech he wrote before their last first-encounter from his back pocket. "Here." He pushes it at her. She takes it like it's something filthy and dangerous.
The edges are worn away, and there's a smudge or two that might be tearstains. He'd written it the day after the spell went into effect, half delirious with pain and loss and hope. His words were impassioned. But when MJ looks up with a very skeptical expression, Peter realizes they might not have been coherent.
"So you're not dangerous. You're just crazy," MJ says.
"Let me see that!" Ned snatches the paper, and that's embarrassing because there's probably some mushy feelings stuff but it isn't like Ned hadn't witnessed their entire relationship the first time around so it's probably fine.
"I'm not crazy. It's the truth."
"We were all best friends but you have superpowers and then a wizard cast a spell to make the world forget you. Because of the multiverse?"
"Woah," Ned says when he finishes. "I would totally watch this movie. Are you a screenwriter? I mean, the plot is all over the place. But the angst. The gritty character development. I dig it. Could I be an extra?"
And Peter wants to cry, this is going so poorly. But he also wants to laugh. Because Ned and MJ are so them and this is all so familiar and he feels better about the world just standing in their presence.
"I do have superpowers," Peter says. "Which you figured out before I handed you that note so that's one point for honesty."
"Prove it."
"You already know that I'm Spider-Man."
"Yeah, well, I need you to prove it. Walk up the side of the house."
Peter scopes the area but no one seems to be around so he does what she asks, climbing all the way until he's sitting on the roof. He swings his legs off the side and peers down at them, grinning.
"Dude! That is so cool. Can we be best friends?"
"Yes!" Peter's voice breaks on the word. He's left his web shooters on, so he shoots a web to the nearest streetlamp and swings down, landing right between Ned and MJ.
"Can I be your guy in the chair?" Ned's eyes are so wide. So familiar. "Because I have ideas about this. Every superhero needs someone to back them up, right? I think I'd be really good at it."
"You are my guy in the chair, Ned." Then Peter starts their handshake, hoping beyond hope.
Ned joins in almost instantly, perfectly in synch, and even goes in for the hug at the end. Peter feels a little weird about it, but that evaporates as soon as he feels Ned's arms around him, just as warm and safe and comfortable as they've always been. Peter squeezes back, thinking this must be his Christmas present from the universe, from May, when Ned suddenly goes tense in his arms. "Peter," he whispers, and then he squeezes Peter tight. "Oh my God, what did that wizard do? I never should have given him back his ring."
And Peter laughs, joy and relief and disbelief making him sound absolutely manic. Could it really be this easy? "Do you really remember me?"
"How could I ever forget you?" Ned pulls away. Peter hates to let him go, but it is good to see his face, tracking Peter's every movement, the proper amount of invested and concerned. "Dude, that was messed up. Our whole history was just gone. And I felt like something was missing but when I thought about it too hard I'd get these headaches and wind up sort of nauseous. I thought I had a concussion or something from getting caught up in the Spider fight on the Statue of Liberty. Oh—the Spider fight."
"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. The Goblin blew up the original spell and the multiverse was collapsing. Strange had to erase everyone's memory of me to stop it."
"But you said you would come find us and tell us. You promised. And that was almost two months ago."
"Forty-seven days, actually." Peter looks down at his feet. "I messed up. I'm sorry. I thought I was protecting you."
"Hold on." Suddenly MJ is in his space, sliding between him and Ned, so close that it's easier to reach out and touch her than to keep his hands to himself. But he doesn't. He doesn't dare, because she looks murderous. "So now you have him believing your crazy ramblings because of some handshake? This is ridiculous. Is this a prank?"
"No. It's not a prank. I'm an idiot but I'm not lying now."
"But you were lying before."
"Where did you get that necklace?" he blurts. The broken fragments are barely indistinguishable from her black sweater, but Peter notices the way the silver fittings sparkle.
Her fingers trace it almost instinctively. "This thing?"
"Black dahlia. Like the murder."
"Yeah." She narrows her eyes and goes very still, and Peter knows she's trying to work it out. She's skeptical, but she's so smart. He just has to find a hole in whatever stories the spell told her. If she acknowledges something is off, she won't stop until she understands why.
"I bought it for you. In Venice. On our school trip last summer. I wanted to give it to you in Paris."
"He had a plan!" Ned blurts. "It was very elaborate. We went over it many times."
Peter grins, the simple act of Ned having his back better than anything that could be wrapped under a tree. "But Ned wanted to be American bachelors in Europe. Even though he somehow started dating Betty while we were on the plane."
"It was a magical, confusing, exhilarating time," Ned clarifies, and Peter laughs at his dreamy tone, and the sound surprises even him.
"Whatever's happening now I do not appreciate it."
"I bought you the necklace but there was so much Spider-Man drama and Nick Fury made me help him save the world against the Elementals, which turned out not to be even real. You told me in Prague that you knew I was Spider-Man. You'd found a bit of a projector, and I realized that Quentin Beck—Mysterio—was faking the whole thing. And he knew that I knew and you and Ned knew so you were all in danger. He went after you guys in London and I had to face him so I gave Happy the necklace to give to you if I couldn't. And he must have thought things were really bad because he gave it to you and it got broken in all the chaos."
She's still looking at him blankly and the words just keep spilling out of him. He's forgotten everything he learned in debate team, about how to form a compelling argument. "Afterwards you came to find me. You had this mace that I guess you stole from the Tower of London. You had the necklace, and it was broken, but you said you liked it better that way."
She steps towards him and she is so close, just like she was that day. Just like she'd been dozens of times after. But right now she feels so far away. "What happened next?"
"You kissed me," he says, and he feels himself blush just a little, remembering how he hadn't expected that, not in a million years. He clears his throat. "A couple times, actually."
Still she doesn't say anything. Just thinking, thinking, thinking.
"I screwed up, really bad. This is my fault. I know that. And I should have fixed it a long time ago, and I didn't and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But I need you to remember. I really need you to remember."
Then she is kissing him, chaste and awkward like the first time. She pulls away, but then she is kissing him again. Less chaste, more desperate. And he is so desperate he can't help but get swept away, lost in her. Lost in this feeling he'd given up on ever feeling again. Her hands lift to fist in his hair and then she tenses.
Just like with Ned he can tell that something has changed.
"MJ," he whispers against her mouth. It feels like both his heart and lungs have stopped.
Then she sobs, one single exhale of misery, and throws her arms around his neck, her face pressed into the crook of his shoulder.
He wraps his arms around her, pretty sure he's allowed now. "You remember, right? Oh god please tell me you remember."
"You have something you need to tell me, right? I've been waiting. I wasn't supposed to have to wait this long."
He pulls away, his heart at his feet. He pushes a piece of hair behind her ear. Smiles at her and means it. "I love you, MJ. I love you so much."
She grins back, and he knows how guarded she is with joy. But instead of the kiss he hopes for she punches him on the shoulder. It hurts more than he expects.
"Oww," he whines, rubbing at it.
"You were supposed to come find us ages ago, idiot!"
"I know, I'm sorry. I was going to. I came to the diner but—"
"But you thought you were either protecting us or punishing yourself, and I'm not sure which is going to make me more furious."
Peter scratches at the back of his neck. "So, uh, I guess you're really not going to like the fact it was a little bit of both?"
She growls, but when she attacks him with her mouth he really doesn't mind. "You're like an ice cube," she says some time later, her warm fingers wandering across his neck.
"Yeah, sorry. I was visiting May and I think I almost froze to death in the graveyard?"
"Dude!"
"No, it was totally okay. I dreamed I saw May and she talked some sense into me so it all worked out."
"Was this like a Ghost of Christmas Past scenario?" Ned asks.
It should hurt, but Peter finds that it doesn't. When he thinks of May there is warmth and love and memory. I'm proud of you, Peter, and Keep your promises. Even dead she's still looking out for him.
MJ grabs his hand and laces their fingers together.
"I guess it was," Peter says softly.
MJ jerks on his hand. "It's not okay for you to let yourself freeze to death! How did you survive all this time without us?"
"I honestly have no idea."
"Never again, okay?" Ned says. He grabs Peter's other hand, all serious and sincere. "We're a team. So we have to be equals. You can't go making all the decisions without us, just cause you think it's best. If you're not going to look out for yourself you have to let us do it. We want to."
"Yeah," MJ echoes. "We want to."
Of all the tears Peter has cried in the past 47 days, these are by far the best ones. "You have no idea how much it means to hear you say that. I've missed you guys so much."
"We missed you too, you know," MJ says. "We just didn't know what we were missing."
And isn't that a wonder?
They pull him inside where it is blissfully warm. MJ wraps them both in blankets and Ned makes Peter a plate of food, and they put on Muppets Christmas Carol because Ned says it's thematically appropriate. Peter knows he will never take them for granted again. All his troubles—his rent and his broken heater and his college-less future—all seem like minor annoyances with the three of them pressed together on the couch, talking and laughing all through the movie. All the broken bits inside him align like puzzle pieces, leaving him strong enough to face whatever the future may hold.
The last thing he thinks before he falls asleep, MJ's head on his shoulder and his on Ned's, is that somehow he's been granted a Christmas miracle, and he can't waste it.
Thank you, May.
I wanna feel the love that's in the hearts
Of all the ones that make us who we are
Thankful for the ones we have and what we have to give
In the heart that loves,
That's where my Christmas lives.
"Where My Christmas Lives," 3 Doors Down
Now that Christmas is over if you want to get back on the angst train and chase it with heavy fluff and a whole lot of feelings, check out my ongoing Irondad post NSW fic Long Story Short (It Was A Bad Time), which still has 2 or 3 more chapters coming soon.
Reviews are always greatly appreciated.
Stay safe and well out there!