Days of Pretending

Chapter 3: Not Like Other Boys

Peter Parker made himself some eggs that morning. He was happy; in fact, he was exhilarated. Last night, for the first time in weeks, his dreams had been unclouded and real. They had been perfect, seared with fantasies of holding hands and titles tossed aside and the moonlight just getting under his skin. He dreamed of a darkness that he longed for, its secrecy, the way it made him use all his senses aside from sight. He had smelled a beautiful woman, touched her hair, breathed her all night in his dreams and in reality. He could not remember which was which, when the sandman had taken over.

There had been a lot of talking. Sometimes, Peter told stories, faded parchment memories about his uncle dying and becoming Spider-man and learning things he hadn't thought he would ever know. Sometimes, the speech was mere scattered words, mere phrases, not complete sentences, just uttered fragments. Sometimes they spoke not with tongues but with eyes, with smiles, with tears, with sighs. And, sometimes, they didn't talk at all, but just slept.

It had been an innocent night, like that of high school sweethearts who just simpered at each other and giggled. Along the same sweet and simple note, he didn't think they had even stayed up that late, though he couldn't remember anything in particular. Peter did not even know if he had kissed her. Being with her had been enough.

He had woken that morning with a note about getting to work early pinned to his lamp. It had made him laugh, the devious, vixen-like tone that Mary Jane had written in:

"Peter:

I have the early shift, but I'm sorry to have left you like this. I'll make it up to you later, okay? I love you.

- Love, Mary Jane"

What she implied by "making it up to him later" was beyond Peter's understanding. Faded watercolors of her face permeated his mind, and he knew that simply her presence would be enough. All that Peter knew was that he had a date that night, he supposed. Or so he hoped! Wasn't that what Mary Jane had meant? Or did his girlfriend have something else in mind?

"Girlfriend!" the young man thought with delight, cracking an egg open and listening to it sizzle in that familiar way. That word, "girlfriend!" Doesn't it seem foreign and new? Yet, I like it. I really like the way it sounds.

"She's my girlfriend," he said to himself with a large smile. "She's mine." With that he laughed aloud and flipped off the oven switch. He felt like singing, like dancing, like jumping for joy. His! His! Mary Jane was his and his alone right then and there, right in that moment. No one else could have her. She was given to him, just as he had offered himself to her like some sort of scanty gift to a goddess's altar. He dished out some eggs and waltzed ungracefully over to the counter. The phone watched him cross the room, tempting him with its glowing buttons and numbers. Its laughing smile brought him to the edge.

Five minutes later found Peter's eggs cold and the phone book spread open before him. He pressed the numbers to Mary Jane's work. It rang twice before an older man's voice picked up. "Moon Dance Diner," he said in a monotonous voice.

"Is Mary Jane Watson there?" he asked excitedly, like a little boy waiting to open presents on a holiday. He fiddled with the buttons on his shirt sleeve, pushing and twisting them, while the boss paused to scan the room around him.

"Yeah. You're the boy from yesterday, aren't you? Hold up," said the boss without waiting for a reply. Peter fidgeted and nearly fell off his stool as he waited.

"Miss Watson!" called a voice from the back room of the diner. Mary Jane lifted her head after setting down some utensils for an elderly couple. She strode in the general direction of the sound, not even aggravated if her boss was in a bad mood that day. Nothing could break her spirit today, not ever again, because she was dating Peter Parker. Her heart fluttered upon thinking of him, and she sighed and her eyes softened blue.

"Yes?" Mary Jane questioned as the back door swung open at her push. The fat man shoved a phone into her hands with a warning glance in his eyes. She looked at it, then to him for an explanation.

"It's that boy," he said grudgingly, as if he didn't deserve a name. "Don't be long. You don't get paid for chatting."

Peter! she thought with excitement, immediately pressing the telephone to her ear and sighing audibly. "Peter, hi," she said with a giggle, falling back onto a cheap plastic bench. "How are you?

"Mary Jane," Peter breathed on the other end of the line, resting his head on the table. "I'm good."

"Why did you call?" Mary Jane asked him, glad that he would spend some time to contact her.

"Because I missed you," Peter said softly, running a hand through his hair. His eyes fluttered shut as he listened to Mary Jane giggle and chuckle and murmur a few beautiful words about how sweet he was. The sounds were more glorious than orchestras, though the notes were simpler and easier, because they were sounds of her pleasure and delight.

"I missed you," Mary Jane whispered back through the kitchen din. "I'm really sorry that I had to leave your apartment early this morning." At this, she turned a little bit pink, thinking of the way she had fallen asleep on his couch with her arms entangled in his hair and shirt and blanket. Don't let him be angry. "But I'll make it up to you," she added as consolation. Those mysterious words caught his attention once again. Mary Jane continued, "I want to see you tonight. I can't wait. What time?"

"Any time," he said with a slight shrug, willing to put aside any other plans to see her. "Preferably as early as possible would be nice." She smiled on the other end.

"I'll come right after work," she swore to him.

"Great. I love you, Mary Jane. I'll see you then."

She swooned against her will. "I love you, Peter. Bye."

"Bye," Peter said with a huge grin. He paused, not wanting to hang up quite yet. He listened to her breathing on the other end of the line, heard the sound of her exhaling. It reminded him of so many things, of the wind on his back the first time he had carried her after the World Unity Festival, of perfume and flowers in the breeze, of curtains that he had drawn shut the previous night to ensure her warmth. There was a slight click.

Mary Jane set down the phone on the bench and leaned against the wall, looking up to the greasy ceiling. In due time, she would be out of that dump and where she belonged. Mary Jane smirked from ear to ear and tossed her head over her shoulder. The sooner she got back to work, the sooner she would work off the day's hours and get back to her apartment for a nice shower to wash off the grease. It was a motivating thought.

Mary Jane felt a knot welling up in her stomach concerning the meeting for the evening. Though she loved Peter, a very small part of her hesitated. She had never been romantically involved with him before. What would he expect from her? Would he be like all the others? Would he be like the boys who kissed her and reached automatically for her shirt buttons? Mary Jane loved him with all of her heart, but she did not know what to expect from him or what he expected of her. What lengths was she willing to go to?

If it makes him happy, I could maybe do it. I love him that much, she told herself, even though she didn't feel up to it in her spirit. Her heart was committed to Peter, but her body was a different matter. Could she really push the limits? Did she really want to do it? Perhaps it would merely a sacrifice to give herself to him, or maybe it would be self-destruction.

The day was relatively uneventful. The most exciting things that happened were that a little boy nearly spilled his drink over and an elderly man needed some help back to his car. That was alright; the tips were worth the trouble. She wondered where Peter was, swinging through the urban jungle, unleashed in his wild magnificence as he shot around skyscrapers and snapped like on an elastic band over rooftops. She worried about him these days; though she knew his capabilities, Mary Jane would have felt better if he had merely been at home studying.

Three o'clock came. She finished up with the last customer and headed to the back room to grab her coat and purse. She bid her coworkers a hasty farewell, and they cast her knowing looks and giggles. Mary Jane flicked them off. They did not understand what it was like to walk in her shoes and feel complete at last. They could not get it, not ever. They were not Mary Jane.

Twenty-five minutes later found her at Peter's apartment, breathless. She had already showered and changed clothes at her place before making a beeline to his. She was nearly to his green door, like the light at the end of the tunnel, when the door whipped open to reveal Peter leaning on the gate to heaven.

"Hi," he said, as if it were perfectly normal to be able to sense her like that.

"Expecting me?" Mary Jane laughed cockily, leaning on the railing. Peter nodded vigorously, thus causing her to chuckle some more. In his usual charming fashion, he smiled boyishly and ushered her into the apartment. Her belongings were immediately abandoned on the counter.

Peter had hardly closed the door before he was greeted with Mary Jane's hands draped over his arms and shoulders. His heart had been trembling spasmodically all day as he wondered about what secret, devious plan she had in store. He was slightly afraid of what she might be plotting, yet curious all at once. Peter was unsure. What would happen if Mary Jane started something he couldn't be committed to finishing?

Peter was almost relieved when Mary Jane merely kissed him softly on the cheek before burying her face in his shoulder. He sighed and held her waist, rocking her a little. "And to think I waited so long for something like this," he murmured thoughtlessly, savoring the sweetness of being near to her.

"How was your day?" she asked his shoulder.

"Decent," he replied. "My boss yelled at me for being incompetent, I was late for class, and I had to chase down a bus, but, hey, that's the usual. But it was quick and painless at least." Mary Jane smiled.

"And how was Spider-man's day?" she asked him. The pieces to the little idea she had been stewing started to slip into place as she probed her boyfriend professionally and manipulatively. Will this please you, Peter, this little brainchild of mine, my little scheme? This is for the things I left undone last night. This is for all the time I missed. Would you like me to make it up to you? Will it make you happy?

"It was relatively calm. There wasn't much to do, save a few quick robberies," Peter told her, running a hand over her spine and making her shiver.

Mary Jane glanced up to him. "Aren't you sore from swinging around all the time?" she questioned him with concernedly. She had him right where she wanted him. Say yes, say yes. Say it, and we can get on with this, get it done. I want to make you happy, no matter what.

Peter frowned. "Yes, now that I think about it. I'm still human. My body can only take so much pressure and wear and tear," he muttered a little shyly.

Mary Jane grinned at her own brilliance. She slid her hands off of him and winked before going to the windows and beginning to shut them. Peter cocked at eyebrow at her odd behavior but was interrupted by her before the words could form on his tongue. "Take off your shirt," she commanded gently without looking at him as a window slammed closed.

Peter blinked at her a number of times, hesitation creeping into his voice. "Um, why?" he asked timidly. Mary Jane, I love you. My attraction to you is so much greater than physical. Was I wrong to think you felt otherwise? Do you love me for all the wrong reasons? Does only your body connect to me, not your heart? I'm so confused. Mary Jane, talk to me.

She glanced up. "I'm going to give you a back massage, since you say you're sore. And it's much too hard to do it when you're wearing a shirt," she explained coolly. Mary Jane paused a moment, seeing the apprehension in Peter's face. Had she been wrong to assume he would like her little idea? Was she making him uncomfortable? "That is, if you want me to," she added with a slight smile to hide the fear she held behind her voice.

"Well, okay," Peter said after turning over the idea in his mind for a few seconds. A back massage? No big deal, he thought to himself as he undid his shirt buttons with a shaky hand. What was he getting into? Why is she doing this? What's her motivation? Would she be content to just let me hold her, or does she crave something more from me, something I don't think I'm ready to give? Oh, I don't like this game. I wish you would just talk to me and not be so mysterious. "Why are you closing the windows?"

Mary Jane turned away from a window. She tried to hide a surprised smirk upon seeing Peter pull off his shirt in front of her. Do you want me, Peter? If I do this, will you love me more? "So you don't get cold," she replied steadily.

I don't think being cold will be a problem, Peter remarked to himself before setting down his shirt on a chair awkwardly.

"Go on, sit on the couch," Mary Jane gestured. She watched Peter cross the room and seat himself oddly on the couch. He crossed his arms over his chest in a protective way, his emotions hidden, his gaze unable to meet hers. Whenever she tried to meet his eyes, he looked away in an impersonal manner.

Worried, she watched him shift with his gaze on the floor for a minute longer. He's uncomfortable. I did something wrong. What did I do? What's wrong with me? She looked at her hands pathetically. I don't know how to give back massages anyway.

"Peter?" she asked hesitantly, wringing her hands together. Fearfully, he glanced up and caught his shirt as Mary Jane tossed it back. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I don't know what I was thinking. I'm so sorry."

He looked at the pale blue cloth in his hands. "I… it's not your fault. You didn't know," Peter remarked calmly, his nerves settling. "I should have said something."

Mary Jane edged toward his recliner and sat on it across from him. She remembered backseats of cars, and senior prom, nights when she had turned down a boy's suggestion and turned down the boy himself. "I shouldn't have assumed. It's just… well, that's how things have been before with other boys. They were all very physical, and being physical made them happy, so I did it. I guess a part of me keeps thinking that's the way it has to be, the way it should be, the way boys always want it to be." She smiled. "But you're not like other boys."

Peter blushed a deep red, sure that she was complimenting him. "Well, yes. You've surely been places I've never been," he worded delicately, "places I don't think I'm ready to go to, not yet." He stood as to more easily slip on his shirt and slid his arm in a sleeve, unrolling the article of clothing. "Don't take it that I don't love you. It's not that. It's just that… I'm not ready yet for where you want to take me." He slid on the other sleeve but was too distracted by her compassionate expression to button it up. It was a look of either gratefulness or longing; he could not discern the difference.

"All I need… is to be with you," he breathed, lost in her face. His voice was distant, as if she was dragging him along another plane of existence simply by her very powerful presence. "That's enough. You don't have to feel compelled to do all sorts of other things like you did before," he confessed, striding toward her swiftly and getting down on his knees in front of her to look into her eyes.

Mary Jane bit her lip and nodded, touched too deeply to speak. How did he know about all those others? How did he know that he could make it better by leaving me to make my own choices, taking away my pressure? How can he make me so at ease? she thought in relief. "I… thank you," she stuttered, biting her lip. "Thank you for not being like other boys."

Peter smiled sympathetically and rested his chin on her knees, sliding down to sit himself directly on the floor. "No problem," he responded with a twinkle in his eye, placing his hand over hers.

Three hours and a few cups of coffee later found Peter and Mary Jane snuggled on the floor on the balcony with a blanket draped over their shoulders. They peered through the bars of the iron trestle of the railing and watched the sun dip below the horizon. The caffeine was wearing off, and thus visions blurred as the colors smeared together. Peter slowly leaned down to kiss Mary Jane quietly. "The stars are coming out," she whispered as his lips brushed her cheek.

"Beautiful," Peter commented, lifting his eyes up to see a few lights sparkle in the sky. He ran a stray finger over her jaw line.

They were silent for a while as more stars started to appear across the blue panels of the sky. The blanket ruffled in the breeze, wind darting between the fabric's weaves. Mary Jane wondered aloud if one could ever really count the stars in the sky, and Peter replied that he thought not, being that new stars were born all the time.

"The world's always changing," he remarked.

"For better or for worse," Mary Jane added, snuggling into him a little more. "Today, it changed for the better." She met his eyes meaningfully and gave him a light Eskimo kiss, brushing her nose against his. It's better than anything I've ever felt in my life. It's better than anything I ever thought I could experience. Is this nirvana? Let this be real. Let this be eternal, she thought passionately.

When the sky had finally darkened as much as it possibly could, they closed their eyes to the blackness and city streetlamps, and turned to each other for the source of their light.

~~~

AN: This chapter has had a serious makeover. Somehow, it ended out kind of raunchy and weird, didn't it? Gee! It was created mainly to set up the setting of the relationship. I wanted this to be pure Mary Jane and Peter interaction, which it mostly is, save the beginning.

At first, it was going to be pure, magical fluff. But I did not want to be cliché, and it's hard these days, because everyone thinks of the good ideas before I do and if I used them, it would be plagiarism. Then, it was going to be a little flirty, humorous, full of romantic banter meant to make you laugh. The back massage idea came into play at first as a part of this; I had thought naïve Peter's reactions would be a laugh. And somehow that escalated and the plotline became more serious, and so look where I ended up. I didn't want a big, huge conflict, but I ended up sort of creating one with the sexual tension thing. (Woo.) I guess stories are just better with a conflict, huh?

Perhaps this was a little risqué, a little more PG-13 than the previous chapters. I didn't mean for it to be. If the topic made you uncomfortable, I give my apologies. My summary does have a warning for this chapter. I just thought it's a good subject to be addressed. If people feel uncomfortable in a relationship, what's to be done? It's a real world issue. Peter and Mary Jane live in the same real world; why wouldn't they confront the same problems? Besides, I really think that in stories of any type, it's great when there's a lesson to be learned. Of course, when we read a book, we like to be entertained; that's primarily why we do read. But it's also nice when you come back from reading a book and you feel a little wiser. Now, I'm not being cocky; I wouldn't dare say this story would make anyone wiser save myself, because I'm learning not to be too overdramatic and to be open to suggestions. However, give a few seconds to thinking about this issue I'm presenting. (I sound like a theology teacher. Good heavens.)

I liked doing this especially from shy, naïve Peter's POV. Good heavens, I love writing about that boy. He's so diverse and fun to write about! Anyhow, review, please. I hope you liked this.

PS: Credit goes to my friend Lerm for assisting me in the balcony scene. Merci! (Isn't that French for thanks?)