May used to work a 12 hour-shift at the hospital.
It's what paid the rent and put food on the table.
But just a few hours ago, Pepper, that wonderful, amazing woman, showed up, offering them enough funds for her to work a shorter shift.
When she came by to politely hand the money, all pressed suit and straight back and compassion, May had vehemently refused.
She wasn't going to take pity money; no. May is above that. She can work well enough for her and Peter. It might be exhausting at times, but it's enough, it's always been enough.
(Well.
It used to be.
Now, it wasn't just draining her, it was tearing her apart. Because Peter wasn't talking anymore, and he's always in his room now, staring, sitting, doing absolutely nothing, but also feeling absolutely everything— and she couldn't do anything that matters—)
But Pepper sits her down in her own kitchen table after a bout of angry sputter and waits until she calms down. It takes a while, but no one could blame her.
It is 34 minutes before May relaxes, for a bit, and she looks Pepper straight in the eye, mouth poised to refuse once again. But. Professionally.
Pepper beats her to it.
"May," she is slow and careful, offering a smile to lower May's guard, (it works, just a little bit), "I'm not trying to overstep my boundaries, nor do I take any pity on you. In fact. I think you're an amazing mother. No doubt. But I can see it in your eyes. You're tired."
May snorts. "Aren't we all?"
Pepper's lips twitch into a small smile before continuing, "I want to help, May. Friday had been keeping tabs on Peter through Karen. He isn't sleeping and he isn't talking to anyone either—"
"I'm sorry but, how do you know all this? I thought Karen is only activated through the suit and I know for a fact that Peter isn't wearing it anymore."
"They installed Karen in his phone. It helps for emergencies when he's just Peter."
May slumps in her seat.
"He's thought of everything, hasn't he?"
Pepper's eyes soften.
"Yeah."
They share a tentative silence, with the buzz of the refrigerator being the only sound, and an understanding settles between the two women as they think of their two boys.
Pepper is the first to break it, voice beseeching, "There are billionaires, May, who are thankful for the 'heroes' for bringing their loved ones back. And contrary to popular belief, these billionaires aren't as cold and greedy as they're made out to be. Especially when they're weeping with joy."
May perks up to this. Money. She's back to talking about money and May is ready to get back to refusing it.
"So, they donated a huge amount of money—funds. From all around the world, the Arabs, the Chinese, the British— money is coming from everywhere May. And it's all to send the simple message of 'thank you'."
May doesn't speak, too weary to start an argument when it's not there yet, but ready to fight her way out when it comes.
"These are the funds we used to help rebuild the Avenger's Compound, as well as the Stark Tower, back to the way it was before. We also used it to help organizations dedicated to bringing a semblance of normal back."
At this, May starts, "Yeah, I've seen those around. They're looking for people who have lost their jobs and been replaced during the five years we were gone, right?"
Pepper nods.
"I'm one of the lucky ones to be employed immediately. Nurses are a valuable resource after all."
"Yes, they are."
Pause.
May knows that look. She braces herself.
"But you've been overstretching yourself too much. And I think I can give you enough to go back to a healthy work schedule. For yourself, and. For Peter."
Her voice lends a rawness that could only come from emotion, and May looks on as Pepper tilts her head sideways, eyes on the wood patterns but mind elsewhere, beyond— perhaps, on a certain man who once had a skin of steel and a heart of glowing blue arc reactor.
(She knows that look. She's seen that look in the mirror more times than she could count. It is the look of longing, of memories, of searching— For May it is Ben. For Pepper it is Tony.
Both women sit across from each other in May's old, rickety table. They're broken, but they hold onto their cracks and do their best.)
It is a whisper, but May hears it nonetheless, "He needs you even though he doesn't say it."
May straightens up. It is unconscious on her part. Every moment of her attention overseeing her mind.
She thinks, first, of what she could say. She could be formal and polite. Distant. But there's been a great deal of something hiding just underneath the surface, building pressure, day by day, and ready to burst from her at the slightest nudge.
And so, she lets it all out.
"I know, I know. It's just—" frustrated hands on tangled hair, "He doesn't see me anymore—" wild, desperate eyes, demanding answers¸ "and, he, my baby is suffering so much and I want to help so bad but he doesn't talk no matter what I do, and there's just so much I could say to him, so much I could pretend to be alright before I—" May gathers herself, steels her gaze on Pepper's and breathes, "I won't give up on him. I won't."
It's a promise, when she says that. But then something breaks, and she's helpless once again, "But I don't know how I could help him beyond just being there."
It is messy, and embarrassing, and there are tears now, God. But Pepper isn't here as the CEO to a multi-billionaire company. No. With the way her eyes glow with unshed tears, and the way she is rubbing her arms and offering consoling words, May thinks she's here as her friend.
She's been needing that for a long time now.
So, when Pepper speaks, more murmurs, she is a little bit agreeable, a little more open than she was when they first sat here.
"The funds, May," starts Pepper's soft voice somewhere beside her, "they're all for the heroes. They came in brief-cases with a card on it—for Spider-Man— and he's not the only one, but he's one of the heroes who fought for us all, and he's getting the recognition he deserves, even though Peter doesn't think he deserves it. You can use it to loosen up, so you could have more time with him."
May is nodding, sobbing, yes, and also profusely thanking Pepper. Because she's telling her the things May is afraid of telling herself. She's being a friend, something May lost when Peter came back with red eyes, torn suit in hand and a gaping hole in his heart.
Yes, Peter's earned this, even though it's money and it's not what he wants.
And May will take it because it will give her the time that she needs to help her baby.
It takes a little more than 36 minutes before May could calm down again, and when she does, they are sharing jokes and experiences.
They're both mothers. And they both love two super-hero geniuses.
(Loved? May corrects, in a question. Love. Pepper repeats. May smiles. She knows the feeling of everlasting love for someone, even long after they've passed. And she feels warmth blossom in her chest, her mind screaming but one name, Ben. May doubts Pepper is thinking of him as well.)
May finds out that Pepper is living in a lake house, far from the city. She wonders, how that could be, when she's so busy.
"Well, I don't usually get to sleep there. But every week, I make sure Morgan and I stay there for at least a few days. The time spent to travel there is usually fun anyway, and I've got someone to cover for me, so… anyway," she shrugs, "It's home."
This silence that they share is more comfortable, relaxed, and May feels closer than ever to Pepper. They're the same. It's almost uncanny.
"You know, you can visit there if you want to. Just say the word and Happy will be happy to pick you up."
They giggle at the poor joke. And May actually thinks about it.
"That would be nice," May ponders from her seat on the sofa. Pepper reclines on the other end. "Maybe I'll ask Peter one day."
They both wonder of different things.
A beat.
The fridge buzzes in the same way Tony's chest does, but in a noisier, mechanical way. His has a more human touch, energetic but not robotic— and Pepper is comparing a refrigerator to her husband and she thinks it's stupid, she snorts, and shakes her head free of the thought.
Pepper moves on to other topics. Away from fridges and chests and buzzing—
"Has he told you about the trip yet?"
Eyebrows furrow.
"What trip?"
Uncertainty.
"…the trip to SI, upstate."
Explain?
"It's going to be a camping trip, basically. Two days, and there'll be a festival too. Peter might love it there. There'll be all kinds of things we planned. Plus, he hasn't been there since— for a long time. I kind of miss him."
Sigh.
"When is this?"
"The day after tomorrow, actually. I came here because I was just finalizing plans with Jim. Morita, the principal."
"Yeah… he hasn't said a word about it."
Sad smile. Soothing. Understanding.
Pepper reaches out to May's hand, not uncommon in their whole interaction, squeezing it with an accompanying look of empathy.
"Peter is something special, May. Not just because of Spider-Man. The kid's got a heart of gold. And… they're right. It's been a year. Maybe he needs a little nudge?"
Peter arrives just a few minutes after Pepper has left.
May thinks Peter didn't come in on purpose.
She doesn't have a chance to think about it longer because he's striding across the hallway looking more tired than before.
This probably has something to do with the trip.
(Bullshit.)
This definitely has something to do with the trip.
(That's more like it)
"Peter, honey, why're you home so late?"
Peter mumbles something as he takes off his shoes.
"You know I don't have your super hearing. You have to speak louder than that."
May watches as Peter slowly rises.
His hair is more of a mop of curls now, than the fun waves they were. Before, they were tamable. Now they're just a mess.
"'said I finished homework at Ned's."
He walks toward her.
His cheeks are hollow.
May knows he doesn't eat as much as he should be.
Peter stops in front of her. He's squirming. May raises an eyebrow.
"Just kidding, I lied." She is taken aback by the sudden sweetness of his smile, her boy, "I was at the city, traffic was horrible and… I bought this for you."
He's nervous.
Peter stretches his hand in front of her, all baby blue shopping bag and shy eyes, "MJ and Ned pitched in."
May throws herself at her boy, "Oh, Peter," and relishes in his scent.
Peter rests his chin on her head. He's taller now, she realizes. How much he's grown…
"You can wear that, tonight. I also brought food. Ned's mum cooked some really good pasta and I think he got her to cook your favorite crispy pata… happy birthday, May."
He's whispering in her ears. And May is brought back to the time when Ben was here, doing the same thing, with Peter tugging at her sleeves, excitedly showing off his presents as well.
She is confronted with the image that Peter is now at an age where he's both Ben and her baby boy.
Sniffle.
She doesn't let go for a while.
They're dancing when she tells him.
"I'm cutting my hours at the hospital, you know."
She is swaying with her nephew—more like son— in her new red dress that she thinks is expensive because it's got this tag that looks like it could belong in the high-class parts of New York.
Billie Holiday sings a special rendition of 'I'll be seeing you' justfor them through the speakers of Peter's phone.
"That's great, May."
There's his third smile of the day.
And because of that, May feels a surge of confidence.
"We can take the day off the day after tomorrow. You and I. We could rent a hotel somewhere in DC just because we can, or go to that spring resort we've always been talking about. You don't have to go to the trip and I'll finally cash in my off-day—"
In her enthusiasm, it takes a while before May notices that her nephew has stopped swaying. In fact, he's standing there, frozen and unreadable.
His voice is quiet when he speaks again.
"I never said anything about a trip."
When May screws up, she usually covers it up with something pretty. It's just her first instinct. So, she grabs Peter's hands, and smiles, "And you don't have to. Because you won't be going, if you don't want to."
(Pretty promises, pretty useless)
But the damage has been done.
Peter is already agitated and he's pulling on his hair, clenching his jaws and his eyes are just a split second from breaking into tears—
"Who told you about the trip? It can't be Ned—he said he'll stay with me, and MJ, she won't just call you—"
"Pepper came today."
At that Peter looks up, locking shocked eyes with May's imploring ones.
"She misses you; you know?"
It's not just her. I miss you so much too.
"She's still here."
I'm still here, baby, talk to me—
The way he clamps up is instantaneous. May almost regrets bringing it up. Key word: almost.
Pepper is right when she said he needs a little nudging. Peter is reacting worse than Ben, and he reacted worse to Ben than to his parents.
(May thinks, if he loses one more person, he would just slowly shatter to the point of no return, and so she promises to herself that she will keep herself alive just so Peter would stay alive.)
But Peter is striding into his room, almost slamming it in her face, and then locking it in record time.
May can only stand helplessly as Billie Holiday finishes her ballad.
"Surprised you came."
"Tony."
"Stevie."
"—THEY FINALLY ACKNOWLEDGED EACH OTHER! GET READY SUPERMAN CAUSE' THIS PARTY'S BOUT TO GO DOWN!"
"Maybe you'd want to backtrack a bit you glorified chicken—"
"—HEY!"
A wave of cheers and laughter resounded through the room currently decorated in red and gold. It looked like the Gryffindor common room if Peter actually received his letter.
He decided, as he looked at his chuckling mentor, that this is better.
It was a little thing he did. Really.
Peter resolved, a year and a half after civil war, and a few months of putting up with awkward team-ups in random battles where Captain America and his motley crew just randomly decided to show up, that he would have to end this… whatever it is.
Misunderstanding? Miscommunication? …break-up?
Of course, it was harder to contact them through normal means. Even asking Ned to send messages took a toll on the excitable teen.
Steve Rogers, no matter how simplistic Tony made him out to be, was ridiculously slippery and complex if he wanted to.
So, Peter chose the more direct route—
They were in the aftermath of another battle, and it was getting less awkward when you've shared a few quiet moments (of which weren't as quiet as they would have liked because Spider-Man was so talkative—)
"Mr. Stark's having a party later this week, and I have trackers all over your bases, so if you don't, like show up, I might slip it into tv later—"
"Jesus, kid, what do you want from us?! Isn't it enough that you keep showing up to our secret missions?" Falcon exasperatedly asked from Steve's left.
"I want you to apologize to Mr. Stark—"
"—you're right Steve, this is a child!"
"Hey! …then this child just whooped your ass last year—"
"Bucky, friend, let me go, buddy, I need to teach this child a lesson—"
"Sam."
"…fine."
"I don't know what you're planning, son, but I don't think it's going to bring the results you want."
"It is. I might have gotten into a little argument with him," five hours of yelling and a week of silence, "But, he's acquiesced. He's willing to talk to you, at least. Plus, it'll be my birthday party, so it's more of my choice of attendees. I wouldn't want my favorite part-time allies to be absent!"
THWIP!
And he's gone.
And he's here right now, a week after that night, partying with the whole Avengers.
He was prepared to show his identity to them when they came. But he wasn't exactly upfront about it. And after 'accidentally' listening in on the current arrangement they've made through Natasha, (THE Black Widow…!) he found out they'll be staying in the top-most floor in secret, only leaving in the dark for their missions.
It's alright. This is fine. Everything is fine. This is more than fine, actually, it's the best thing ever—
Until.
"Hey kid, this is your party after all. Take the mic."
"I don't- uh, sing, Mr. Stark…"
"Seeing as your best friend is Filipino, one would think you'd learn a thing or two about karaoke, right, Deeds?"
"It's Leeds, Mr. Stark…"
("Oh my GOD Mr. Stark called me Deeds—Hey mom can I change my name to Dee—")
"And it's Tony, little Spidey."
Peter frowned. This was his party so he had the power to—
Almost everyone in the room, the Avengers, Pepper, MJ, Ned, Aunt May, and a few select Agents like Maria Hill, were all staring at him with grins on their faces (okay, maybe not MJ, that was stretching it too far.)
He looked to his right where Steve was sitting, calling for help because if there was anyone who could still turn this around it was him.
"Come on, son. I came here like you asked, didn't I? I think it's your turn to honor the end of your bargain."
"What— what bargain, Mister Captain America, sir?"
"That you'll do as the man says, or your aunt might find out about your other nightly excursions."
Peter heard perfectly what Steve whispered. And he swore this was the most he wanted to punch that smug little smirk of the National Hero, Captain America, Steve Rogers, also, part time asshole—
"We're finally agreeing on something here, Rogers. Good for you, kid. See, we're like, best friends already."
Peter snatched the mic from Mr. Stark's hand, glaring as he does so.
He didn't know Captain America was a little shit. Maybe it was the 70 years of pent-up sass, or—or whatever, he couldn't think anymore because everyone is looking at him like he's about to give the world's greatest performance.
The only performance he's every given in his life was during first grade where it was really mandatory and—
And in the shower ("I don't sing in the shower, I perform—")
Peter snorted in his head, shook his head in defeat and sighed.
"FRIDAY, this is so sad, play This is Me from The Greatest Showman."
He might as well have some fun with it.
"I am not a stranger to the dark… Hide away, they say—"
"—'Cause we don't want your broken parts—"
"Mr. Stark?!"
"Sing along kid, this is your time to shine!"
"Uh, right—ashamed—ashamed of all my scars… Run away, they say, no one'll love you as you are…"
Everyone was singing along.
Peter didn't understand this.
Although, if he thought about it for a second, he might just.
It started with Sam, he might be annoying, but he got some good tunes.
"But! I won't let them break me down to dust! I know that there's a place for us…"
"—For we are glorious! Ha! I am glorious, aren't I?"
They were all clapping, singing in varying degrees of good and… tolerable.
Peter stopped singing into the mic and yelled the lyrics with everyone, as the music reached its first chorus—
"I am brave, I am bruised! I am who I'm meant to be, THIS IS ME!"
Aunt May erupted in laughter as Ned knocked down the punch bowl in his eagerness to stretch his hands like in the movie.
They reached the several 'Oh's' and even MJ was singing and swaying to the melody.
Steve was grinning, eyes wide with mirth.
By the bar, Peter could hear Pepper's melodious singing and beside him, Tony's surprisingly smooth voice.
Bucky, surprisingly singing along, started at the wrong beat, a second early for Another round of bullets hits my skin, and everyone was laughing.
They recovered just fast enough to yell out: WE ARE WARRIORS!
Wanda sung, "Yeah, that's what we'll become!" alone, blushed a bit but laughed along with the crowd.
They were stomping their foot, their bodies moving through the beat, chanting every line: But I won't let them break me down to dust, I know that there's a place for us—
It's Sam's voice that went louder and longer than the rest, and again, he's belting out, in a fit of passion, "FOR WE ARE GLORIOUUU—OUS!"
CLAP!
And they were back to the chorus, Peter filling with a type of warmth reserved only for family.
Steve started singing along, his voice a pitch lower than the song, and being so horribly out of tune. He and Bucky made eye contact and they burst into the most monotonous recitation of the lyrics, disrupting the singing crowd with more hilarity.
Natasha was tapping her feet to the beat, sharing looks with Bruce who was humming along.
After the second bout of 'Oh's' that everyone enjoyed screaming together, Tony clapped his hand on Peter's shoulder, handing the mic back.
And I know that I deserve your love.
Peter was shaking his head, refusing to upset the group's chorus.
There's nothing I'm not worthy of—
But Tony wasn't hearing any of it. Peter did a double take, though, when the man took the mic to his hands and started singing, breathlessly, dramatically, "When the sharpest words wanna cut me do-ho-hown," he looked at Peter pointedly—
ONE.
"I'm gonna send a flood,"
TWO.
"gonna drown them out—"
THREE!
Peter took the mic to his hands, shyly singing out in his high voice, "This is brave, this is proof…"
He thought of that one moment in Camp Rock when Joe Jonas realized that Demi Lovato was That Girl and proceeded to sing along with his own lyrics, unprompted. Ironically, Peter mentally snorted, it's also called 'This is Me'.
(He was waiting for Phineas and Ferb and it was after this movie, he didn't watch it—he didn't enjoy it)
(Yes, yes, he did)
"This is who I'm meant to be—this is me…!"
Peter looked up, and everyone was looking back at him. May was mouthing out 'I love you' and Peter wanted to cry.
Sam was belting out from behind him, matching the original singer's vigor, "Look out cause' here I co-ohoho-hom! Marching on! Marching on!"
It's the third 'Oh's' now, Sam was enjoying his time, and Bucky and Steve burst into their monotonous chant again but were hit by Clint with his rubbery arrow, encouraging them to (try to) chant in a much more tolerable tune:
"Whenever the words wanna cut me down! I'm gonna send a flood! Gonna drown them out!"
"OOOOHOHOHHOHO-AGHHK!"
Peter couldn't stop the tears that poured from his eyes and he thought it's okay because Mr. Stark was actually crying now from all the laughing, and even Natasha was wiping her eye a bit because Sam bit on his own tongue and was now doubled over on the floor.
There was a crescendo in the music, of laughter and of friendship—
Maybe this is what happiness feels like—
"This is me!" Peter finished.
Tony was looking at him again, all crinkled eyes and lips stretched in a smile, "I'm proud of you kid. C'mere."
And he was hugging him, Peter was shaking, he's gripping him tight, so tight, he's happy—oh my god, he is, finally—
He's gripping his arms, he's shaking, but he didn't let it be too tight—"It's Peter..."
Exhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, "We won. Mr. Stark." Breath, shaky, breathe, Mr. Stark— "We won Mr. Stark…!" Come on, don't—please—oh my god— "We won— we did it, s-sir, wedidit—"
There was a hand on his shoulders that did not belong to Mr. Stark, it was heavy but there's something heavier in his heart—
"I'm sorry, Tony…!"
Peter jolts awake— it is cold, dark and he's falling—
THUMP—
He lands on his bed, breathing heavily, a sheen of sweat on his forehead, and he's just exhausted.
The sun isn't up yet, but he's used to waking up like this. With a quick glance at the clock on his table, 4:23 a.m., he gets off his bed.
His shirt is wet with sweat so he throws it off in disgust.
He crawled on the ceiling again.
He hates it. He hates this. He hates—
himself.
Peter is as awake as he can be, and the claws of his dreams begin rushing into his memories.
"I'm proud of you kid—"
"We won—Ms'er Stark—"
"I'm sorry—Tony—"
He's in the kitchen sink in a second, the water running, but it's not enough. He opens the cap to the liniment oil and pours it in his hands. It's menthol and he feel it's sting on his face, his eyes and his lips. But it's still not enough.
(It'll never be enough.)
Peter cups the water in his hands and dumps it into his face, stinging, burning,
Hurting.
We won, it whispers, seething—WE WON, its yelling now, screaming at him. We won, Peter slaps his hands on his ears, go away—we won— it insists—
"We won…"
But why does it feel like he's lost everything?
It is 5: 23 in the morning when May finds Peter curled up into himself, staring somewhere on the wall and into his memories, eyes red and liniment oil empty.
She walks slowly, carefully, and announces her presence, because the last time she didn't, he started screaming and almost threw her to the wall and she wouldn't dare let herself get hurt because it would hurt Peter more than it will ever hurt her.
"Peter, honey," she coos, hands combing his hair, cradling his head into her chest.
Maybe hearing her heart beat will remind him that she's still here.
"You can skip today if you want."
He's shaking his head no. It's always been like this. He never missed a day in school since he came back. May doesn't know if it's a good thing.
When he talks, it is an angry whine, his eyes focused on the floor, with furrowed brows, "I don't want to be me anymore—I-I don't want to be Spider-Man anymore."
May shushes him, nodding along, because of course, nobody's forcing you to be Spider-Man, it's alright, baby.
It's not, he thinks, It's never alright.
Ned would come over later that day, MJ in tow, because Peter missed school today. For the first time since a long time.
Peter had fallen asleep on May, sitting on their kitchen floor. And it had taken her a few minutes to settle him into his room, where he miraculously didn't wake up from.
"The weeks of sleepless nights have finally caught up with him, huh," MJ wonders to Ned after their phone call with May.
"I just wish the trip wouldn't destroy him too much…" he squints at MJ, "You've known about this trip for a whole month. Why didn't you say anything?"
MJ shrugs. "I can't." She rolls her eyes at Ned's accusing gaze, "And it's not just because of the whole confidentiality thing either. I thought about telling him but then he'd get all defensive and won't speak to either of us. I mean, he already doesn't but telling him myself would make it worse."
Ned ponders over her answer before slumping on the couch.
"He'd find out about it in every scenario that I played in my head. And I played every scenario."
This earns a chuckle.
"I'm glad that even after all this, you're still kinda the same."
"What do you mean kinda?" she put air quotes on kinda, "I'm the only constant in your life and I aint ever changing."
MJ rests her foot on the small table in front. There. She looks relaxed.
(Even though that's the farthest she is right now.)
"You're more open now. To your concerns, with Peter, and, other stuff."
Ned is sheepish in his observations, yet he is right. She huffs. So much for bravado.
"Well, getting dusted for five years does something to the human psyche." Ned agrees with a "Hmm…"
"And it's not even the 'during', it's the 'after'. It's so disorienting, finding your younger sister moving on and growing without you. I'm just… compensating for lost time, I guess."
They sit in contemplative silence, minds drifting afar.
That's when Peter noisily ambles out the door.
The first thing they notice is his bleary eyes.
The next is that he's shirtless.
And it's not about how well built he is, either, it's how thin he's become that takes MJ aback. Not only that. MJ scans his hands and chest, and there are red scratch marks all over.
The first time MJ found out about it was from Ned. Apparently, since any wound would easily heal, Peter didn't bother with blades. What he did though, was capitalize on his sensitivity and the way everything just magnifies in feeling.
She thought it was just the liniment oil thing. But apparently, he's also scratching himself.
("He's not just scratching himself. You make it sound like it's innocent. It's more like he's tearing himself open. Slowly. Agonizingly so.")
MJ is immediately uncomfortable. Her mind is a whirlwind of snarky jokes and serious declarations. And she doesn't know what to say, she never does—
Instead, it is Ned who speaks first.
"Bro, we got an A on our Robotics project!"
He went for the Ignore Everything and Pretend Everything's Fine route.
Typical.
"Oh… uh… that's nice."
Beat.
"Why don't you wear a shirt, before we get to our little reunion."
Peter flushes an embarrassing shade of red before yelping and coming back inside his room. There's the trace of old Peter. So, he's not completely lost after all.
When he re-enters the living room, it is to the smell of cinnamon and hot chocolate.
They brought one for each of them and kept one in the fridge for May.
Ned and MJ had silently agreed to do everything in their power to distract Peter of the whole event tomorrow.
Ned told MJ that he'd be staying with Peter. She was regretful, but tried to pass it off casually when she told him she can't skip the trip because, "I'm captain of AcaDec, Nedo. It'll be a busy two-days."
So, when they got Peter to chuckle at that one Brooklyn 99 episode where Jake, the main character, started singing "I want it that way" with the men in the lineup to find the murderer, MJ thinks they succeeded.
Star Wars isn't even a choice. Peter was too familiar with it not to blank out and think about somewhere, sometime, far, far away.
Plus. It's space. That's like, the biggest trigger.
Ned stands up as the intro comes up, hurriedly gathering the mess in his hands because he likes it clean even when he's not in his own house.
But then a few seconds later, there's crashing in the kitchen and Ned is rushing toward them before they could react.
Well, before she could react.
Peter is already running toward him, stopping when he spots the red and blue suit in his best friend's hands.
"Ned that's…"
"Peter you can't just throw away your suit like this!"
It's desperate and tearful when it comes out of Ned's mouth and MJ is shocked. This is the first time he's shown that to Peter. Even MJ, who he has shared some tears with regards to Peter's wellbeing, has never seen that before.
"Give that to me, Ned." Peter's voice is tight, and MJ is standing between them now. Ned's clutch on the suit is strong and urgent. MJ thinks that if it goes down to a fight, Ned would be fighting till his last breath.
"Not until you promise you'll keep it!"
He sounds like a child.
But Ned's been strong enough for so long.
MJ steps in. "Peter. Ned."
"No, MJ. You don't get to stop this. This has been going on for too long man—and I can't pretend everything's fine anymore. I won't let go of this unless you tell me you'll keep it. Throwing this out won't do anything—it'll just make an even bigger hole—"
"SHUT UP. Ned." Peter has both hands on his face, eyes shut tight and tone biting.
"He's right, Peter. It won't help… denying Spider-Man isn't going to do anything."
"Then what do you want me to DO?"
When MJ first saw this Peter, she hadn't known what to do. She was extremely useless and forever grateful that Ned was there to save the day—to save Peter. But both her best friends are broken down, battle weary and she has a little energy to spare.
And so, she takes a step forward. Slowly, gently.
There is wild distress in his eyes when he looks up and his hands are white and stiff as it digs on his cheeks. His fingers embed on his skin and she watches as he tears himself apart in front of them.
She puts her hand on his and slowly takes his hands in hers. If it were up to her, Peter won't be suffering as much as he is now. He's gone through too much. So, she tries to be gentle.
"I think," she is tentative, gauging his reaction, every twitch, every flicker of his face, "that if you're going to leave Spider-Man, it shouldn't be because you're running away. It shouldn't be driven by fear, Peter. It should be driven by acceptance."
In an instant, Peter's body slackens and MJ thinks he is passing out. But he's standing still and he's looking over at Ned, Brooklyn 99 playing in the background, hand outstretched, "Fine. I won't throw away the suit. Can you—please give it back. Now?"
Ned is hesitant when he steps forward but he trusts his buddy with his life and he knows Peter won't lie to him, and so he hands the suit.
(It's the same suit they used to stare at with starry eyes. God, they were boys back then. MJ would kill to have her boys back.)
Peter turns back and is quick in his strides.
"Where—where are you taking that?"
"In my room."
SLAM!
.
.
.
"Well that went well."
"Not now, MJ."
"C'mon, Nedo, Brooklyn 99 is waiting for us."
"But… is it really fine to just leave him like that?"
"He'll come back when he's ready. Hovering won't help. Especially after sabotaging his self-sabotaging actions."
"Ugh, MJ, I already hate myself for it—"
"Don't. You did the right thing. Now. Let's watch some prime comedy crime television."
Peter can hear MJ and Ned from his room.
He's regretting putting them through all this. If only he was better. If only he was stronger—then maybe he would be the one to put on that damned gauntlet— and Tony—Tony would be here—
Peter feels the fabric of his torn-up suit in his hands.
They are familiar and soft, and it feels wrong to hold it when everything has been foreign and rough for the longest time.
It is an unconscious act when he crumples it in his hands, fisting the cloth in a burst of anger.
And then he thinks of Karen, who is one of his most loyal friends along with the two outside.
If he burns this suit, would Karen die with it?
He can't lose anyone anymore.
Peter drops to his knees—
("What was that? Should we go in there?" "…No, I think he needs his time alone." "I really hate this MJ, but… you're right…")
But Spider-Man… he was just too much of Tony for Peter to operate normally without breaking down into tears ever other minute.
He tried. Once. But it ended with him falling from the tallest skyscraper, and actually giving in to gravity, his eyes closed, mask folded up a bit so his lips could feel the air, and he's fading, and thinking I'm almost there, Mr. Stark—
but the parachute activates and his web-shooters move on their own, and he's landing softly on the web.
Even… even after… even after he's gone, he's—Tony—keeps saving—
Peter doesn't leave the web until the sun rises and he has 99 missed calls from May, a few dozen messages from MJ and a frantic, weeping Ned in his ear after successfully hacking Karen.
Peter doesn't wear his suit after that.
But then he thinks of the times,
(oh you don't wanna go there buddy, not if you want to leave out of this door with your composure—)
Peter lets himself flow into the better days.
The better days with Tony.
There, in the tower, where MJ and the rest of his school will be going in a few hours.
There, in the tower, where he and Tony became more than just Spider-Man and Iron Man, more than just student and teacher, more than just Kid and Mr. Stark.
There, in the tower, where he and Tony and Pepper and Steve and Natasha—(they're gone now, too—) and Clint and Bruce and everyone became— became family.
Peter slaps his hand on his mouth. He can't make any sound.
(All that leaves the thin walls are the strangled sobs of one Peter Parker, and MJ and Ned feel so goddamn useless—but Peter doesn't need to know that—)
Letting go of Spider-Man means letting go of the tower, and he feels dirty just thinking about that.
But he has to try.
And so, Peter makes a decision.
Peter leaves his room half an hour after.
Ned is the first one to stand.
MJ sits and watches from her seat, giving all her attention to looking relaxed and slowing down her heartbeat because she knows he could hear it.
She almost doesn't catch it, because he's looking at Ned and he's whispering. But Peter repeats it, when Ned asks again, because apparently, he still didn't hear even though they were standing in front of each othe—
"I'm going to the trip."
What.
"I'm going to Stark Tower."
And thaaaaats it.
Please review? Words for words are the best exchange in this trade :D
Edit: Breaks!