Days of Pretending
Chapter 7: The Giving
Lifelessly, exhausted, he clicked the key into place and swung the door open. He tossed the mail onto the table, hung up his jacket in the closet, and sat down to check the mail before realizing that somebody was sitting on the couch, watching, waiting.
"Mary Jane," he said with surprise, his eyes meeting her own.
"Hi, Peter," she replied softly with the smallest of smiles. She was not pleased.
"How did you get in here?" he asked, rising from his seat.
She held up a key. "Harry gave it to me a long time ago," she answered briefly in a voice that was not her own. Do you remember him, Peter? Do you remember I was with him once? Does that make you jealous? You look hurt. Will it make you remember next time? she thought bitterly, offended by the fact that he had not come to the movies two nights ago. She had waited for an hour, sitting in the New York City cold, watching the neon lights flash on the wetness on her cheeks. She had given up; James Bond would have to wait for them. Would it do her good to guilt him into coming next time?
The moment she saw the real detachment in his eyes, she wanted to take it back.
"Oh."
"You can have it back," she replied quickly, rising and stepping across the room to him. She dangled it in front of his eyes, the brass shining, the symbol bright like the sun.
"Keep it," he said, pushing it away. "I wanted to give you a key in the first place."
She nodded, putting it back in her pocket, hearing the familiar clinking. She generally liked its sound, the things it symbolized, and the entrance it gave her. It made her feel rotten inside, though, when she thought of how she had just used that same well-meaning key against Peter. Don't taunt him. Talk to him. That's why you're here.
"I missed you last night," she told him, biting her lip and meeting his eyes.
"I… I'm sorry. There was a robbery. I couldn't make it," Peter apologized with a frown, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking down.
Mary Jane folded her hands in front of her, scuffing a bare foot across the floor. "I was really upset when you didn't come. I had been waiting for you all day, and I… I don't know. It just really was… oh, I don't know. It hurt, that's all," she explained brokenly. I love you. But are you less committed than me? Why is this happening to us? Are we falling apart? The thought struck fear into her heart, a fear blacker than night and death.
"I'm really sorry, Mary Jane," he repeated, coming a step closer. "Please forgive me. Please try to understand. But there were all those people, and they were afraid, and I couldn't turn away from them." I can't cry. I can't cry. But I feel that there's nothing left for us. I can't read her eyes like I used to. Where's the light in them? He laid a hand on her shoulder, as if it might make her more compassionate.
A fear she was unfamiliar with latched on to her brain. She felt like screaming. So, was this the wall? Could she ever become the first thing in his life? Would she always be just the sideshow to Spider-man? He had warned her of this, but just then Mary Jane wasn't sure if she was ready for it still.
Mary Jane was angry. She was furious, in fact; she hated Spider-man and everything he was, because he took Peter away from her. It was almost traitorous, after all the superhero had done for her, but her heart rebelled and replied that she would have rather died than live in his shadow. A part of her thrashed in her fury, and another writhed in her paralysis, her terror. She could never let Spider-man drag Peter away.
"So you turned away from me instead?" she asked suddenly, meeting his eyes harshly. Immediately after she said it, she backed up, and Peter's hand fell from her shoulder. "I'm sorry. I… I never should have said it." She turned away, facing the wall, bracing her shaky hands against it. "It's just that-" she began, but she stopped, clenching her teeth. "It's just that I want more than you're willing to give."
"What, would you rather have let those people shiver there in fear and be robbed, maybe even murdered?" he asked in a slightly harsher voice, startled and horrified. Who are you, and what have you done with my Mary Jane? he asked himself. When did you grow cold, like me?
"No, no," she explained, resting her forehead on the wall. "I'm sorry," she reiterated, pounding her fist on the wall. Peter laid a hand on her back to comfort her, but Mary Jane whirled on him, her eyes teary.
"I warned you about this before everything," Peter reminded her in a chiding voice. "I told you about who I was, my goals, my responsibilities. You said you would accept that. Why can't you?"
"I don't know. What's wrong with me?" she asked herself, wiping her eyes. "I guess I'm just too selfish, wanting you all for myself."
Peter told her gently, "I don't think that I can belong all to one person. Part of me belongs to Aunt May, to Harry, to Spider-man, even." The name made her shiver. "It's not my fault, either. I get pulled in so many directions, and I want to go most to you, but I just can't, not when everyone else is pulling on me, too." The look reflected in his lover's eyes was not a happy one still. He bit his trembling lip and inched towards her a little more. "Please don't be angry with me. That doesn't mean I don't love you, Mary Jane, because I do love you."
Mary Jane looked up into his watery blue eyes and nodded, trying to hold back her tears. "I know. I love you, too," she whispered, holding out her arms to him and collapsing into his hold. She buried her face in his shoulder and wept for one very long minute while Peter ran his hands up and down her back, through the rich red hair that he loved so, shushing her with his soft voice. "Don't cry, Mary Jane," he cooed. "Please don't cry."
"I'm scared," she sniffled into his collar. "I'm scared of what's becoming of us."
"So am I," he said, feeling aloof. Were they not in charge of their own destinies? Wouldn't they be able to work it out if they wanted to? He denied it. He wanted to believe. "But, I think we can work things out. We're committed to each other. We want to work this out. Surely that's enough. We're in control of what happens here."
She didn't feel very in control, but she trusted Peter and nodded. She drew back her head to look up at his face, seeing the worry he held there for her in his eyes. Suddenly, in a blind passion, Mary Jane felt a longing for Peter. She loved him so much that it ached inside when he was gone, and just then, their bond was deeper yet weaker, and it only brought all of her emotions to the surface. Mary Jane knew that if she was going to lose him, she was going to make the best of what they had before it ended.
"I want to be in control," she told him, shifting under his gaze. "I don't want to lose what we have."
"Neither do I," Peter agreed. "We won't," he added determinedly. He was about to say something else, but giddy Mary Jane cut him off with a kiss, bringing her pink mouth onto his own swiftly and taking away all the breath he had saved to speak. He started to melt and drip as she softened him with her lips, molded him with her fingertips, hypnotized him with the sound of her breathing.
"Keep going," she whispered haphazardly into his ear before kissing it. "Keep talking. Tell me things," Mary Jane commanded, her lips dragging over his jaw. Her fingers jumped over the back of his neck. Peter found it very, very difficult to speak when she was doing things like that.
"We can… change what's happening-" Peter gasped brokenly. His rubber wrists disconnected with his hands, which slid down his lover's waist. "We don't have to… submit… to … anything." There was a pause. "I love you," he choked out choppily, abandoning his iron will. He was like jelly, completely raw and liquid. He broke the contact she had with his neck only to crash into her lips with undying fervor.
"Peter," she whispered into his mouth, "I'm not going anywhere." It was then that Peter realized that fantasy could become reality, that his morals were his own to choose, that he could break laws, even the ones he had set for himself.
"Then don't," he suggested, breaking their kiss. His eyes met hers with a need that made her breath hitch, made her certain of the steps she took. Her fingers walked across his chest to the collar of his shirt, tugging on the white buttons. Peter watched her move with a sort of enchanted look, captivated by her eyes and hands. Down the hands went, unsnapping more buttons as they went.
Peter did not give her time to remove the shirt before embracing her again, lips meeting. I know no bounds tonight, he thought, his hands roaming to places they did not understand. I cannot know bounds tonight.
Peter, she thought as inaudible sounds escaped her lips, let me take you away, right here, right now. I want to show you, know all of you inside… Her eyes met the red fabric. She had forgotten that he wore his Spider-man costume underneath his clothes. She did not like the way the spider on his chest stared back at her, the way it possessed him as it loomed directly over his heart. She met his eyes.
"Peter," she rasped, causing him to pause. "I want-" Her breath caught.
"What do you want from me?" he asked her coolly, nuzzling into her neck.
"Just for tonight, I want you. All of you," she begged, her knees weakening. "I want none of your attachments, only Peter Parker himself."
He looked up, suddenly sober. "I am all yours," he said, touching her cheek with the back of his hand. Mary Jane wanted to cry until she turned blue from sobbing. She wanted to laugh and to take his breath away. The emotions she felt were eternal, undying, passionate and alive. She had never felt so happy to be living. The feeling welled up inside of her like a blooming flower in the dark, so radiant and full of vibrancy.
She did not share him at all.
When I was younger and I knew that I loved you, Mary Jane, I never thought it would come to this. I never thought that I would find myself here tonight, holding you in my arms, belonging to you alone, thinking of nothing but the way you kiss, the way you look, the way you smile, the way you are. I never dreamed, even in my wildest, most drunken reveries that I could be loved by you.
Peter, I am stronger because of you. I am more complete because you take away from me. Use me more to your advantage, because, somehow, that fills me up.
I did not know that I had the ability to give myself to a person. Mary Jane, how is it that only you can claim me? What is it about you specifically that gives you the magic to unlock my heart and steal me away, the power to make me love you? When I kiss you, I think I can taste it, a distinct taste that is you.
Your heartbeat is just like mine. The rhythm is exactly the same, somehow. I can feel it echoing inside of my head and my wrists, every fiber of me. I can hear it when I put my head on your chest, when my skin is on your skin. Can you hear it, Peter?
I cannot believe that I waited for this. Why did I not just claim you the first time I saw you, when I was but a child? Years have been wasted, years when we could have been lying like this, watching the sunrise because we did not sleep because we lost ourselves to each other. I cannot believe that I waited to lose myself to you.
Peter, we will not end.
~~~
AN: Yeah, well, maybe I'm overly romantic. But you know you like it.
Yes, it's pretty risqué, pretty sensual. It was never intended to be that way. But at the end, I was listening to this really pretty Enya song ("May It Be" from the Lord of the Rings soundtrack), and Enya's music always makes me mushy inside, and things just happened to turn out all romantic. Cut me some slack here! It's not my fault!
I actually wrote this chapter prior to chapter 4. I jumped around a lot on this. I approve of my ending, but this is not the end of the story by any means! (I don' t think there is ever an end to Peter and MJ's relationship. After all, even if they break up, wouldn't they keep on loving each other and have a relationship mentally?) Review, please! I'm begging! This is a multi-chapter story. It ought to have more reviews than this.