DISC: I do not own Marvel or Spider-Man. Warning for minor swearing.

Suggested Listening: Hold The Girl - Rina Sawayama.

...

Chapter Eighteen

Mo closes her bedroom door behind her with a quiet click. It echoes in the emptiness of the apartment. She slips her backpack off her shoulder and onto the floor, moving towards the window on autopilot.

She sticks her head out into the crisp Autumn air, inhaling deeply, her lungs lighting up like a Christmas tree. The fire escape is deserted and a quick inspection reveals that Spider-Man's box is empty. He must be running behind.

Mo starts to head out of her room, when her phone starts buzzing; Pete's contact photo flashes angrily at her.

"Hey Pete, I was just about to text you-"

"They know!" His frantic expression fills her screen, his face flushed and maskless.

Her brow furrows, "Who knows what?"

There's a clatter in the background and Pete's wide eyes are drawn to something off screen.

"They know, Mo."

"You've already said that, Pete, I don't understand-"

There's a shout from his end of the phone, almost sounding like an angry May Parker, but that couldn't be right. She never pictured May as the kind of person who would be that loudly angry.

"Peter!" A voice shouts, and he almost flinches, panic flitting across his face. Oh. Oh.

"Shit."

"I gotta go."

"Wait, Pete, who's…" the door clicks open behind her and Mo spins to see her mum starily at her stonily, "they…?"

The phone clicks off. A tense silence falls over the apartment as the two women face each other. Her mum toes off her shoes, drops her keys in the bowl, the door closing behind her with a solemn thud.

"So," Alice says slowly, "Peter is Spider-Man."

"Oh, uhm-"

"Your dad just told me," Alice says. "After receiving a rather frantic and quite frankly angry phone call from May Parker. He seems to have been under the impression I knew."

"Yeah, well about that…" Mo trails off, shifting uneasily under the weight of her mum's stare.

"Margaret Hogan Macdonald, have you been feeding an Avenger on our fire escape?"

"Uhm, well Pete isn't exactly an Avenger-"

Alice exhales heavily, massaging the bridge of her nose, "And you thought that was a good idea, why?"

"Because he looked lonely?" Mo's voice is small.

Alice moves through to the kitchen, muttering, "Margaret, what am I going to do with you?"

"Hopefully not ground me for eternity," Mo follows closely behind, trying not to wince as her mum starts to bang pots and pans, slamming a chopping board down onto the counter.

"You've not been doing anything dangerous, have you? Because Pete being some kind of super powered spider is one thing, but you…" Alice trails off, and suddenly whips around to look at her daughter with wide eyes. "You really did go to Homecoming, right?"

"Yes! I just didn't spend it with Pete 'cause he went off to fight the winged man."

Her mum's eyes almost burst out of their sockets, "How did you get home then!"

"I got a taxi with MJ! I told Dad, he knew where I was at all times!"

"You're fifteen, you can't be gallivanting off into danger with a…with a…with Peter alone!"

Alice sinks into the closest chair and into silence. She tugs at the ends of her hair, her expression solemn.

"I never wanted you pulled into this kind of life, Mo."

Mo shrugs, as if to say what can you do.

Alice looks up at her daughter's face, remembering the brightness that enveloped her in recent weeks, the shadow that once passed over her face fading. Mo's shell had been cracked by the ball of the sunshine that was Peter Parker, and she'd watched as this friendship between them took root, and sprouted into this wee green thing.

She sighs, "At least tell me you've not been feeding him pure sugar this entire time."

Her daughter's face flushes guiltily.

"Margaret."

"Pete really really likes brownies?"

Alice stands, pushing her sleeves up to her elbows. Mo watches her with wide eyes.

"If you're going to keep feeding Spider-Boy, you'll need to pack him with more than chocolate and sugar, Mo."

Alice gestures for Mo to join her as she lays the ingredients out on the kitchen worktop of them.

"Get the mortar and pestle."

Alice cracks garlic shells with the flat blade of her knife, the pungent smell filling the kitchen.

"I'm not saying I fully approve of this, Mo," her mum says as she peels and then thinly grates some ginger. A small onion and a few dried chillies follows after, sliced cleanly with the deft movement of her mum's hands. "But I also know that I can't really stop you, so ground rules."

Mo nods.

Alice lights the stove, placing a large pot on the back ring, "If you're going to continue to feed him, please make sure it's with a proper meal first. And if you can't be bothered feeding him, you bring him to the restaurant, capische?"

"Aye."

Alice sides her minced onion, garlic and ginger into a pool of sizzling oil, and Mo follows her every move.

"Pass me some turmeric, would you? And the Garam Masala."

Mo slides the vibrant little glass jars to her mum, watching as she dumps spoonfuls of the spices into the mortar, along with mustard and cumin seeds. A dash of paprika turns the mix an umber colour, and Mo thoughts amble to Pete briefly, the warmth of his smile like the heady scent of the spices in her mum's kitchen.

"Mo," her mum snaps, "pay attention."

"Yes, Mum."

Alice grounds the spice in the little mortar, pausing briefly to check the softness of the onions. She throws the collection of spices into the pot, mixing it until the medley of oil and spice dyes the onions in bright yellows and oranges.

"If you're leaving this flat, you have to tell me or Angus or your dad immediately. And no late nights," Alice levels a stern look at her daughter, "I don't care what Mr Spider Casanova says, you're both still minors."

Mo blushes, and Alice's grin turns sharp. A tin of tomatoes are tipped in with the onions, followed by some stock; the kitchen is filled with rich aromas and Mo's stomach growls in response.

Alice throws an apple her way without looking up from the pot.

"And if I see one grade drop, Mo, you will be grounded, ok?"

Mo nods as she takes a bite out of the apple. The sour cold juices hit her tongue and make her teeth ache; she holds back a wince, her mum must be keeping the apples in the fridge again.

"Lastly, you come to my martial arts class with me once a week."

Mo's eyes widen, and she opens her mouth to protest.

"No, I'm not fighting you on this, Mo. You know how dangerous it is being involved with someone who's adjacent to a superhero," Alice stares her down. "It's only going to be more dangerous being involved with Peter."

Mo looks up as her mum clasps her shoulders tightly.

"I need to know you can look after yourself," Alice squeezes her shoulders, "Capische?"

"I really wish Uncle Tony hadn't taught you that word."

"Margaret."

"Alright, aye, capische."

"Good," her mum nods, turning back to her bubbling pot to turn down the heat. A tin of chickpeas cracks open, and she watches as Alice drains the murky liquid into the sink, before emptying the tin into the pot.

"This is going to need to simmer for a wee bit, after which you're going to serve a big portion to Pete and a portion to yourself before you consume any brownies."

"I'm not sure Pete will be over tonight."

Alice shoots her daughter a dubious look, "Oh, I think he will."

Mo watches as her mum starts to gather her belongings, slipping her shoes on and pulling her hair back into a neat ponytail.

"Right, now that I know you're not dead or dying, I'm going back to work before your Da has a coronary," she says. "I'm trusting you to be sensible, Mo."

"I've got a ton of homework to do anyway, Mum."

Alice folds her daughter into her arms, and presses a kiss to her hair, "I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you too."

Mo follows her mum to the door, before locking it behind her. The quiet stillness of the flat swallows her, and she pads back through to the kitchen, pausing at her bedroom to retrieve her bag, to get on with her homework. She doesn't really believe Pete will be by tonight, not if the sound of May's righteous fury on the other end of the phone was anything to go by, but she'd wait for him anyway.

Just in case.

…

"Psst, Mo!"

Her head snaps up an hour later to see Spider-Man attached to her kitchen window. She grins as she bounces up, pointing towards her bedroom window. He nods and crawls away and she bounds towards her bedroom.

He's slipping in through her window when she throws open the door. Mo rushes forwards, wrapping her arms around him tightly as he drops to the floor silently.

Pete pulls her into him with a tight grasp, a content hum falling from him as he buries his nose in her hair. He fills his lungs with the crisp citrus scent of her, his heart rumbling to a contented march.

He sniffs, "Can I smell curry?"

"Yeah, Mum made it," she replies. "You don't have to whisper, no one's home."

"Oh."

It's only as she pulls back from him that she realises that something is different. The pyjamas he'd taken to running around Queens in again were gone, and in their place was his suit. Her eyes widen as she traces the grooves in the material with light fingers.

"Did Tony…?"

"Found it on my bed when I got home," his mask twists into a grin, although it quickly fades into a wince. "It's how Aunt May found out."

"You put it on when she was home."

"I put it on when she was home," he nods sheepishly. She whacks him playfally and he pulls up his mask to scowl at her.

"Tony needs to get you lessons in keeping secret identities," she pauses. "Actually that's a terrible idea, his only lasted five minutes."

"I can look after my secret identity," Pete pouts.

"Sure you can, Spider-Boy," she grins. "That's why me, MJ, Ned, Aunt May and my mum and da all know now. And the winged man was able to guess in under five seconds."

"That was Liz's fault," he grumbles. She snickers, grabbing him by the hand to lead him towards the kitchen.

"Sit," she says, turning to the stove to spoon some fluffy rice and curry into a bowl for him. She passes him the full steaming plate which he takes eagerly, "Mum says I need to feed you proper meals before I give you brownies now."

"But I still get brownies, right?"

"If your behaviour is good," she pats him on the head, threading her fingers through his brown locks, "Dessert is for good Spider-Boys only."

"It's Spider-Man."

"Keep telling me that, Spider-Boy."

She settles at the table with her own bowl as Pete begins to shovel the curry into his mouth with unrestrained glee. She watches him, her chest warming at the contented look on his face.

"Hey Mo?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you got any plans this weekend?"

Mo scrunches her nose, "No, I don't think so. Why?"

"There's, uh, this park nearby? They've got some nice views. I was, uh, wondering," his face flushes brightly, "would you maybe like to go with me?"

She blinks at him, "Like on a date?"

"Uh, yeah. If you'd like?"

She squints at him, "Will there be food?"

He nods slowly.

"Like a picnic?" Her face brightens and he's struck by her sudden eagerness, feeling his face warm at her expression; his own personal little ball of sunshine.

"If you want?"

She nods enthusiastically, her hair bursting free around her face, "Yes please! I've not been on a picnic in ages!"

He wasn't sure if it was her expression or the brightness of the smile, or maybe just the fact that for the first time in a long time everything felt like it was going to be ok, but he was reaching to brush back those wild curls before he could stop himself. The hair is soft between his fingers as he tugs on a curl playfully.

"Your hair's getting long," he says.

Her eyes are soft as she looks up at him, her hand moving to automatically brush away the other free curls from her face. He stops her fingers mid-action, his fingers brushing against her cheekbone, those damned curls swinging across her face in every direction. She smells like summer, like freshly cut grass and the sharp lemonade Aunt May used to squeeze by hand.

"Peter," his name is barely a whisper on her lips.

Then he's kissing her, the way he wanted to that night on the fire escape before they argued. She tastes like summer, the rich spices of the curry she made, and her lips are soft but chapped against his. Her small hands reach out to thread their way through his hair and he groans at the motion.

Mo is intoxicating, and he kisses her like he wants to pull her into himself and keep her safe, like if he holds her too tightly, she might disappear. His chest squeezes painfully at the brief thought, but he shakes it away quickly.

They part, Mo grinning up at him madly, and he mirrors with a goofy smile of his own. He presses his forehead against hers gently, and he can feel his life cleave cleanly into two; before Mo and after her.

And suddenly, in that tiny kitchen in the heart of Queens, he knows she will never leave him again. Even if she were to disappear in a cloud of ash from his arms, the scent of her would always linger and he'd always carry the echo of her in his heart.

...

A/N: So quick few things: I'm already onto Part Two of this, and y'all better be ready for the FEELS cause it's something. Secondly, pure curiosity, but if you had to dream cast Mo, who'd you pick?

Lastly! I've started adding Suggested Listening at the start of each chapter. Let me know thoughts on the feels or what you listen to while reading this!