Based on a fanfiction story by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1), "Someone To Watch Over Me".

Probably the weirdest Spider-Man fanfic I've written so far, but it was fun. If you enjoy, I'd appreciate a line or two of review! Thank you so much for reading and showing your support!

Note: I do take requests for Spider-Man stories, PM me for details!


"I just want you here tonight,

Holding on to me so tight.

What more can I do?

Oh, baby, all I want for Christmas is you."

Mary Jane sang along with the radio as she slid the casserole out of the oven, switching it out for a pan of unbaked cookies. She was rather nervous about those cookies… Aunt May had given her the confidential recipe and well, considering that Aunt May was pretty much the best cook in the world, MJ was afraid that her reproductions wouldn't come out right. She wasn't a bad cook herself, but when it came to Aunt May's cookies, well, it was a different matter entirely.

"You'd better turn out," she paused her singing to admonish the cookies. "Cause you know Peter'll never tell me if you didn't. He'll just say that you're delicious, no matter what. He's a sweetheart, that's for sure, and I have a feeling it'd kill him to insult my cookies." She laughed softly as she turned to set the table. It was no more than three steps from the oven to the table, the kitchen was so ridiculously tiny. But Mary Jane hardly noticed… it was just right for two. She joined the radio again in the last words of the song as she laid out the plates and silverware.

"Oh, I just want you for my own,

More than you could ever know.

Make my wish come true,

Oh, baby, all I want for Christmas is you."

His timing couldn't have been more perfect. As the last few notes of the song faded away, MJ heard a thump on the balcony outside the living room's french doors and smiled. She paused long enough to take the cookies from the oven, noting with satisfaction that they both looked and smelled perfect, before running eagerly into the living room to open the door. For a moment, she frowned in confusion, certain she had heard him and yet seeing nothing. Then she glanced to the balcony floor and her stomach turned. He lay huddled on the ground, nearly motionless and almost hidden in the snowdrift that had built up on the balcony.

"Peter? Are you okay?" MJ dropped to her knees in the snow, shaking his shoulder. He turned his head and looked up at her through the blank silver-white eyepieces of his mask.

"Hey… MJ…" his voice sounded slurred.

"What's wrong? Tell me what's wrong, Tiger!" MJ's voice heightened with alarm as she tore his mask off. His face was deathly pale, his lips blue, his eyelids drooping.

"I'm… I'm fine…" his voice trailed off and he dropped his head into the snow.

"Don't you give me that, Tiger," MJ lifted his head, her heart pounding wildly. He had never acted this way before. "You're not fine. Now c'mon. Get inside before you freeze to death."

He managed, with her help, to struggle to his feet and stumbled inside, falling to the floor just inside the door.

"Aw, c'mon." MJ groaned, kneeling again at his side. "Couldn't you at least get to the couch before collapsing? You know I can barely move you… you're too darn heavy." He laughed faintly and shook his head. She noticed that he was clutching his stomach as if it hurt and she bit her lip, worried.

"Seriously, Peter, what's wrong? What happened today?"

"Jus'... hard fight… maybe… maybe internal injuries…" he mumbled. MJ pulled his hand away from his side, pressing gently on his stomach and ribs.

"Where?"

"Everywhere…"

"Who was it?" Mary Jane knew it had to be another one of those terrifying monsters… no ordinary criminal could do this to him. "Peter!" she shouted his name frantically as he closed his eyes. "Peter! Who was it?"

"Dunno. I… I'm okay…"

"Peter, you have to tell me what happened. You need help. I… I need to know what to do!" In frustration, she shook him and then instantly regretted it. She didn't want to hurt him any more.

" S'alright, MJ," he mumbled, not opening his eyes. " 'M jus'... tired…"

"When are you ever this tired!" MJ threw up her hands, half-angry at him.

"Need t'sleep… 'm really tired, MJ… tired…"

"Don't you move," MJ warned him, jumping to her feet, although her warning was barely necessary. He lay practically motionless. She stepped swiftly across the room into the bedroom where she kept her desk. Tossing aside the diary and piles of papers, she grabbed her laptop and hurried back to the living room. She was glad to see that he had moved, dragging a blanket from the couch and wrapping himself in it like a cocoon. But he looked practically lifeless now, except that he was shivering violently. MJ sank down cross-legged beside him, flipping the laptop open and typing rapid searches into google. Hypothermia was the first thing she thought of. She scanned the list of symptoms, ticking them off mentally. Shivering. Exhaustion. Confusion. Memory loss. Slurred speech. Drowsiness. He had every one of them.

Setting the laptop aside, she bent down to press her cheek to his forehead. It was cool… almost clammy. His breathing was even, deep and slow. Well, that was different, she realized as she glanced back at the laptop. People suffering from hypothermia tended to breathe shallow. But his heart beat was slow. Way too slow. She felt an icy chill running down her spine. What could she do? He had told her that under no circumstances was she ever to take him to a hospital. It was too dangerous. Especially because of his spinnerets… they would be sure to be noticed. And in a weakened condition like this… anything could happen. Arrest or imprisonment? Perhaps even… MJ shuddered at the thought… perhaps they would want him for scientific research. No. Absolutely not. A hospital was completely out of the question. She would take care of him herself… somehow.

But he wouldn't wake up. She tried everything… gently shaking him, trying to make him sit up, even shouting his name. He didn't stir. She focused all of her efforts on warming him up. He had never, never felt so cold and it frightened her. Somehow she managed to get him out of the suit and into warm, dry clothes, checking him for injuries as she did. Aside from a few minor cuts and bruises, he seemed fine. Unless, of course, there really were internal injuries.

Calling to mind everything she could possibly remember from her first aid training, Mary Jane covered her husband in blankets. She even ran across the hall to the shared laundry room, throwing a few in the dryer to warm them up as much as possible.

"Come on, Tiger," she whispered, her voice trembling as she cradled his head in her lap. "Wake up for me. Just a little bit. Please!"

The floor was cold and she sighed in frustration. He should be in bed. But getting him from the living room floor all the way to the bedroom sounded a near impossible task. He wasn't a big man, but he made up for it in incredibly dense muscle weight. She was strong for her size, but nowhere near strong enough to lift him. And so she dragged him. Bending over, she gripped him under his arms, barely moving him a few inches. Grunting, tugging, pulling, pushing, she made her painfully slow way across the room, afraid to hurt him. When at last she made it into the bedroom, she glanced up at the bed and groaned. It suddenly seemed such a long way from the floor. Blinking back tears of frustration, she pulled him up so he was sitting and slowly dragged his body onto the bed. She dropped him more than once and had to start over, her muscles screaming at her in protest. She all but collapsed in relief when she finally got him on the bed, wondering vaguely how long it must have taken her.

"I don't know what else to do, Tiger," she shrugged, staring at him in frightened worry. "All I really can do is keep you warm and watch your breathing. And you're breathing so… so slowly…"

Praying silently, she climbed into bed beside him, pressing her body against his and wrapping her arms around his torso, her head against his chest, in hopes of adding warmth. She had heaped every blanket they owned on the bed and to her, the warmth was almost stifling.

She barely slept that night, hovering between sleep and wakefulness in a kind of nervous, restless panic. He never even moved. She lay there for hours, just staring at him, counting his breaths. They were shallower than they had been at first, but not slower. She laid her hand on his heart, feeling the heartbeat, counting the beats in a minute. It was less than forty. The time between each heartbeat felt like an aching eternity.

Morning came at last, and still there was no change. Disentangling herself from the blankets, MJ stumbled wearily into the kitchen to find the cold, stale casserole still sitting on the half-set table. The cookies were on the stovetop, stuck to the pan. The oven was still on. Rolling her eyes, she switched the oven off, scraped up a handful of the cookies and went to retrieve her laptop. Afraid to leave him for long, she returned to the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed as she researched hypothermia. If the cookies turned out, she never knew. She ate them, mindlessly, never tasting them at all. The search results were all the same. Keep the victim warm, monitor breathing, use warm, dry compresses… somehow, though, this was different. She glanced at the clock and felt her heart constrict. Thirteen hours… he had been unconscious for thirteen hours.

A coma. That had to be it. He must be in a coma. How, she had no idea. What even caused a coma? Hastily typing it in, she scanned the results. Closed eyes. Pupils not responding to light. No response of limbs, no response to painful stimuli, except for reflex movements. Irregular breathing.

"Well, your breathing isn't irregular, so I guess that's good," MJ sighed. "I'm gonna check your eyes. Man, this has got to be the weirdest thing I've ever done." Lifting his eyelids, she shone a flashlight into each eye in turn. Couldn't be a coma. His pupils were dilating normally. He stirred as she let go, his eyelids fluttering as he groaned. It was faint… but she heard it and felt a tiny bit of relief. She checked his heartbeat again, finding it unchanged. And his temperature… why hadn't she thought of taking his temperature? The result scared her more than anything ever had. Only eighty-two degrees. Eighty-two! How on earth was he still alive?

Mary Jane lost all track of time that day. She left the apartment only once, and only for a fast trip to the corner store for hot water bottles. She lay them on his bare chest, wrapping him in blankets she had warmed in the dryer. It was all she could think of doing. In vain she researched, finding no better methods to keep someone warm. His temperature only climbed a couple of degrees, not coming anywhere near normal. His heart rate stayed the same. But he kept on breathing… miraculously, showing no signs of dying.

Exhausted by noon, Mary Jane curled up on the bed next to her husband's motionless form, resting her head on his chest. He looked so peaceful lying there… as if nothing was wrong. Wiping tears from her eyes, she gently brushed the tangled dark hair back from his forehead, running her hand along his cold cheek. He seemed almost to smile and her heart skipped a beat, gratefully. His lips were moving and she strained to hear.

"MJ…" he was barely whispering. "Love you…"

She lost all control then, bursting into tears. She let them fall as she took his head in her hands, shaking him almost savagely.

"Peter! Peter… wake up, please wake up! It's… it's been over twenty-four hours and I… I don't understand! I don't know what to do! What's wrong, Tiger? Why… why won't you wake up?" Nothing. No answer. No movement. She buried her face in his chest, her heart beating rapidly with fear. She couldn't explain it, and she was terrified. There was nothing… nothing she could do. A hospital was too dangerous. There was no one she could talk to, no one she could go to for help. No one else in the entire world except she herself knew who Spider-Man was. And this time, the burden was almost too hard to carry.

"What is this?" she whispered. "Is this a Spider-Man thing?" And just like that, an inspiration hit her. Spiders. Sitting bolt upright, she reached once again for the laptop and typed in a few words. She had her answer immediately and she stared at her husband in wonder and bewilderment.

"Hibernating," she murmured, shaking her head in amazement. "You… you're hibernating, Pete." Suddenly weak with relief, she began to laugh hysterically, the tears still streaming down her cheeks. This was ridiculous… such a situation she'd never dreamed of being possible… not in her most bizarre nightmares. "Good grief, Peter Parker, why in heaven's name didn't you tell me this could happen? Or… or didn't you know? And why even am I talking to you, since I'm pretty darn sure you haven't heard a word I've said."

Wearily, she let her head fall back on the pillow, wiping away tears. She had no idea what to expect from here on out, but thank the Lord he wasn't dying of hypothermia or in a coma. Feeling as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, she let herself sleep.

When she woke, it was dark out. Long past suppertime. Peter still hadn't stirred.

"How long you gonna sleep, Tiger?" she whispered, caressing his face in the moonlight that shone through the bedroom window. "I'm getting kind of lonely. It's been nearly thirty hours now… this… this is crazy."

On the table beside her bed, her cellphone rang and she picked it up to glance at the screen. When she realized who was calling, her heart sank. The director. She had completely forgotten that night's performance.

"Hello, Mary Jane Parker," she spoke feebly as she answered the call.

"PARKER!" the director roared angrily into the other end, causing MJ to wince and pull the phone from her ear. "Where in heaven's name have you BEEN, girl? I've been trying to get hold of you ALL DAY LONG. Even sent someone over to your apartment and no one answered the door. I put Emma on the evening show, but she wasn't prepared. Why didn't you show? Or at least give us some notice?"

"I… I'm sorry," MJ faltered, raking her mind for a plausible excuse. What on earth could she say? I couldn't come to work because my husband's hibernating like a spider and I thought he was in a coma?

"Something came up."

"Oh, it had better be good, Parker. Who's died?"

"No one…" MJ's voice trailed off as she glanced at her sleeping husband. "Pete's sick and I… was afraid to leave him…"

"So you just ghost us? No explanation, no excuse? Why didn't you just tell me?"

"I'm sorry," MJ apologized again. "Really, I am. I just was so busy I… forgot to contact you. Won't happen again, I promise."

"It better not happen again!" the director sounded less angry, slightly pacified. "So. You up for tomorrow night?"

"I… don't know…" MJ answered truthfully. "I'll.. let you know… Can Emma just keep covering for me until I can come back?"

"Alright, fine. Hope your husband gets better soon," the director spoke almost kindly. "He must be pretty awful sick."

"Yeah…" MJ sighed, not knowing what else to say. It was a mercy she didn't have to. Letting the phone fall to the floor, she turned back to the sleeping form by her side and wrapped her arms around him. She wasn't tired anymore… but she hated to leave him. Might as well stay here by his side until he woke up again.

oOo

"Soooo…" MJ plopped down on her side of the bed, cell phone in hand. "Day three of hibernation, Tiger. It's… yeah, it's really quiet around here. J. Jonah himself just called and nearly chewed my ear off, demanding to know where you are. Had to hold the phone away from my ear. He says Spider-Man's in hiding and he wants you to find out where he is…" she laughed and tossed the phone aside. "I just told him you were sick. Should've told him earlier… he wanted to scream at you himself but… don't think that would do you any good. Ain't nothing waking you up."

A knock on the door interrupted MJ's monologue and she jumped up, startled. Good grief, the last thing she wanted was company. Her hair was sticking up in all directions, the kitchen was piled with dirty dishes, plus that dratted old casserole, Peter's suit still lay on the living room floor along with a few blankets that she decided she didn't need strewn across the room. And to top it all off, here was her husband, hibernating. Well, MJ was nothing if not good at improvisation and pulling it together quick. She was used to crazy situations by now. In less than thirty seconds, she had raced through the living room, gathering up blankets and the Spider-Man suit, stashed them in the closet, and shut the bedroom door. Running her fingers through her tangled hair, she took a deep breath and opened the door. Seeing Aunt May standing there gave her an odd mixture of relief and sudden anxiety.

"Mary Jane! Haven't heard from you or Peter in a while… so I brought some cookies over," she smiled as she handed MJ a cookie tin. The old-fashioned kind with a scene of ice-skaters on a frozen pond with the backdrop of a church steeple and scattered evergreen trees in the snow. Aunt May was well-stocked with such things. MJ accepted the cookies hesitantly, with a wan smile. Aunt May would certainly be asking about Peter. "Oh, and I wanted to make sure you're able to come over for Christmas dinner," Aunt May continued as she stepped inside at MJ's silent invitation and seated herself primly on the couch. "I'm already planning the menu."

"Yeah," MJ laughed faintly. "We can't wait." Inwardly, she counted up the weeks till Christmas. Only three. How long did spiders hibernate anyway?

"So, is Peter out working?" Aunt May was glancing around the room expectantly. MJ shrugged.

"He's… uh… he's not feeling too well right now…" she could feel the blood rushing to her face as she said it. Was there really any logical way to explain this? And really, she had no idea how he was feeling. She hadn't got a word out of him in over seventy-two hours, except for a few mumbles, when she shook him hard enough.

"Oh dear," Aunt May's brow furrowed. "I should've brought some chicken soup… Maybe I'll bring some over later." MJ didn't dare to refuse. She supposed she could eat the soup herself. She realized then that she hadn't exactly eaten more than cookies, frozen cheesecake, and ice cream in the past three days. Not a good idea. "Is he in bed? I hope you're making sure he takes care of himself properly. That boy is far too reckless with his health."

"Yeah," MJ grinned. "He's in bed. He's… uh… he's sleeping."

How she kept a straight face until Aunt May left, Mary Jane was never quite sure. Especially when Aunt May said to make sure Peter got plenty of sleep.

"Sure, you're getting plenty of sleep," she told her unconscious husband later as she finished off Aunt May's cookies. "Hours and hours of it. I, on the other hand…" She sighed and stared at the cookie container. There weren't nearly enough to get her through the day.

oOo

By day five, Mary Jane was a wreck. She had strongly considered appearing on stage that night, but gave up, not feeling like actually leaving the apartment. Too much work. She'd have to shower and change and put on make-up and maybe eat something more substantial than junk food. She hadn't rehearsed or practiced in days and she didn't even want to know how her singing voice would sound after all the ice cream she'd eaten. And all that tv left her feeling spacey and zoned-out. She had finally unplugged the stupid thing and was now lying on her stomach on the bed, idly paging through old scripts. She hadn't the remotest clue what to do with Peter. He seemed fine, if you ignored the shallow breathing, the slow heart rate, and the incredibly low body temperature. But she had convinced herself that this was normal… sort of… and tried not to worry. It still frightened her, though, when she realized it had been over 120 hours since he had eaten or drank anything. What if he starved to death or dehydrated?

With an impatient gesture, MJ swept aside the pile of scripts and they fluttered to the ground, scattering over the room.

"Ugh!" she buried her face into the mattress with a cry of frustration. "Bored… I'm bored… I'm so wretchedly miserable…" The phone was ringing, but she ignored it. The last thing she wanted to do right now was deal with another human being. She'd fended off what seemed like an army of them in the past few days… Aunt May, J. Jonah, Robbie Robertson, Flash and Betty, her director, a slew of acting friends… and besides all that was the news. Everyone wondering why Spider-Man hadn't shown up anywhere in five days. Why all the hype? Five days wasn't that long, was it?

"Yes," MJ groaned aloud in answer to her thoughts. "Five days is an eternity. And… I. Don't. Know. What. To. Do." Rising to her knees, she bent over her husband's motionless form, taking his head in her hands. "Oh, c'mon, Pete. You can't be this tired, can you? When are you going to wake up?" There was no answer. But MJ hadn't been expecting any. "How long is this going to last anyway?" She felt sudden panic creeping over her. "No… no… not all winter… are you going to sleep all winter? Peter… how could you do this to me?" Her voice rose to a frantic pitch and she shook him roughly. "Just wake up! I'm tired… tired of you being like this. It's like… it's like you're dead or something!" Bursting into tears, she sank back down, letting her head fall on his chest. "Come back to me, Tiger."

He stirred slightly, his hand finding hers beneath the blankets. She grabbed on to it desperately, her heart pounding. She felt a sudden burst of hope when he responded to the pressure of her hand, gripping hers in return. He sighed sleepily, but grew silent again, his hand falling limply.

oOo

"Alright, hear me out," MJ sighed. "We're on day six of hibernation and this is getting creepy weird. I researched and… this is bad… because apparently spiders can hibernate for months. But, on the good side of this, I've never seen you disappear for more than a few weeks or so at a time. That being said, this is the first year we've been married, so I really don't know what to expect, but yeah. Like I said. You've never been gone all winter long. In fact, we've spent every Christmas together that I can remember. And Christmas is in less than three weeks. So. D'ya think you can come back to life now, Tiger? At least make it soon. I've run out of cookies and I need to get back to work. And I really don't feel like going to work right now…"

She glanced at the clock and groaned. Eleven o'clock at night. Her circadian rhythm… or whatever it was Peter called it, he was the one with all the scientific terms… but whatever it was must be way off. This had been the weirdest week of her entire life. It felt like the worst week of her life for the time being, but she refused to say so, calling to mind the terrible battles she'd witnessed. At least Peter was safe. But it certainly was weird. She wasn't eating right or even sleeping at the right times. Now it was the middle of the night and she was wide awake. But she'd slept all through the afternoon. And there wasn't anything to do… not like she felt like doing anything.

"Bored, bored, bored, bored…" she muttered, staring up at the ceiling. "We're a mess, Tiger, y'know that? Both of us." The minutes ticked by, turning into hours. MJ almost felt relieved to realize she was getting tired. With a sigh, she rolled over, pressing herself against her husband. He still felt so cold.

"C'mon, Tiger," she murmured, wrapping her arms around him. "I miss you. I miss you so much…"

oOo

"So. We are on Day Seven." Mary Jane lay on her stomach, propping her head up in her hands and staring noncommittally at the wall. "How's the Spider holding up? Fine, just fine. He just sleeps and sleeps and sleeps. How's MJ holding up? Well, that's to be determined. She watches tv and eats junk food and paces and wards off unwanted phone calls and visitors. She skips work because frankly, she's a mess and doesn't feel like leaving the apartment. Also, she's afraid to leave the Spider, just in case something crazy happens. She worries about her waistline and she worries about the Spider, and she worries about Aunt May, and she worries about her position in the play, and she worries about Christmas. Also, she is bored. Very, very, very bored and sick to death of talking to herself. And more than anything, she sits here and watches the Spider sleep. And sleep. And sleep. And sleep… and she wonders if he's ever gonna wake up again."

Peter stirred, shifting slightly and she grinned halfway.

"I wonder…" she said slowly, staring at him sideways. "If this is like Sleeping Beauty. Maybe all he needs is a kiss." Sitting up, she bent over him and pressed her lips to his. She shook her head as she pulled away, laughing softly.

"Okay, never mind. I guess you're no sleeping beauty. Although you look adorable… even though you're pale as a ghost and your hair's a mess. But then… when has your hair ever not been a mess?" She ruffled his hair affectionately, settling down beside him to press her cheek against his. "Sure hope you wake up soon," she murmured, reaching under the covers to squeeze his hand. "It's getting lonelier every day."

"MJ…" he mumbled sleepily, coming almost to the verge of consciousness for a moment. "MJ… love you…" He slipped back into deep unconsciousness again and she sighed. She hadn't expected him to wake up… there'd been too many close calls in the past week for her to hope anymore.

"Love you too, Tiger," she whispered, a single tear running down her cheek.

oOo

The days kept slipping by without any change. Mary Jane felt rather listless and depressed as she waited, staring at the snow piling up outside, listening to Christmas music, ignoring the unopened boxes of decorations in the corner of the living room. She refused to decorate without Peter… not on their first Christmas together. If he didn't wake up in time, well then, she just wouldn't have decorations at all.

J. Jonah called again on the eighth day, in an absolute rage over the disappearance of both Peter and Spider-Man, implying they were involved in some sort of a conspiracy. MJ stifled a smile as she listened to his ranting, glancing over at Peter, still sleeping. She only replied that he still wasn't feeling well and she'd let Jameson know when he was up to coming back. Having called a couple of times with unsatisfactory results, Robbie Robertson showed up at the apartment early on the tenth day, accompanied by Flash and Betty. All three were worried, but MJ noticed that only two were full of questions. Robbie hung back, not prying, not saying much of anything. But the sympathetic smile he gave MJ before they left made her wonder. He knew, didn't he?

oOo

"Let's see," Mary Jane sighed as she ticked the days off mentally. "It's been eleven, twelve, thirteen…" her shoulders slumped. "Thirteen days." She picked up the newspaper and scanned the headline.

"Spider-Man Vanishes, Crime Wave Sweeps City."

The article was nothing. Only ranting on Jameson's part. MJ was convinced the man was crazy. When Spider-Man was around, he hated him. And when Spider-Man was gone, he hit on him for not being there to do his duty. Whatever. MJ crumpled the newspaper and tossed it into the garbage.

She couldn't spend another minute in this apartment, or she'd go crazy. She snatched up her purse from the counter, shrugging into her coat and pulling the apartment keys out of her pocket. Before she left, she knelt beside the bed, laying a hand on Peter's shoulder.

"I'm going out, Tiger," she told him softly. "I think you're gonna be okay. I'll be back soon, I promise." She pressed a kiss to his forehead, her heart warming when he smiled in his sleep.

She came home later that evening loaded down with groceries that she felt sure she wouldn't need. She had intended to go Christmas shopping, but that wasn't any fun alone. Anyway, she already had the most important presents, so why bother? She had checked the mailbox too, something she hadn't done in days. It had overflowed and there was a large bag of mail in the office of the apartment. The landlord was rather annoyed, but MJ was relieved when he didn't ask any questions.

By the fourteenth day, MJ went back to work. But her performance was less than stellar, knowing that Peter wouldn't be waiting for her when she got back to her dressing room. She was relieved that it was the last performance before the Christmas break. The cast Christmas party was that night and it was the event of the year. But MJ gathered up her things and trudged home alone, ignoring her friends' insistence that she come along and take part in the festivities.

"Bring Peter!" Emma told her. "There'll be dancing!"

Mary Jane just shrugged her off and said he still wasn't feeling well enough to go out.

Tomorrow was the first day of Christmas week. Thinking back to Christmases of years past, MJ remembered spending this week with Peter. He had been around last year… and the year before that… and the year before that one, they hadn't been in a relationship. But, of course, they had still spent Christmas day together at Aunt May's. Surely… surely he'd be awake for Christmas! But she wouldn't get her hopes up.

That night was a hard one for Mary Jane. The endless days of silence and worry were taking their toll on her. As she crept into the apartment, half-frozen from her walk home, it crossed her mind that she should've taken a taxi, but she wasn't thinking straight. And maybe the walk had done her good. Shivering, she shed her coat and tossed her purse aside, not caring where it landed.

He was still sleeping. But of course! What else would he be doing? MJ struggled with her thoughts of frustration and anger as she tried to cope with her new normal. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. Shivering, she slipped under the blankets and cuddled up against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I just want you here tonight," she whispered, quoting the Christmas song she had sung so happily on a day that already seemed an eternity away. "Holding on to me so tight. What more can I do? Oh, baby, all I want for Christmas is you."

He shifted in his sleep, turning towards her, and she gasped in astonishment as he pulled her into his arms. Although he had moved every once in a while, he had never responded this much. She felt her heartbeat quickening as she returned his embrace.

"Peter?" She spoke his name tentatively, her voice trembling. She hardly dared hope for an answer, but…

"Mmm?"

She caught her breath at his answer. He had actually answered her… though it wasn't much… maybe… maybe…

"Peter!"

"S'mthing wrong, MJ?"

She sat bolt upright, fumbling for the light switch. He blinked up at her, frowning, and she slumped back, relief spreading through her entire body.

"You… you're awake," she said softly, laughing a bit.

"Yeah." He stretched and yawned, acting as if nothing at all out of the ordinary had happened. "How long was it?"

"Fifteen days," MJ whispered, her eyes wide and filled with tears. "Peter Parker, why in heaven's name didn't you tell me about this?" Her voice rose and she wasn't sure if she was angry or only slightly panicked. "You scared me half to death! I thought you had hypothermia or were in a coma or something. Do you realize what I've been through the past couple of weeks? Not knowing if you were going to be out for weeks or months or who knows how long!"

"MJ…"

"Do you realize that your temperature was only eighty-two degrees?" she continued, not giving him a chance to finish. "Eighty-two degrees, Peter! And your heart was beating less than forty times a minute. For fifteen days. Fifteen days!"

"I'm… I'm sorry, MJ…"

But she interrupted him again, collapsing on his chest with a sob of relief. For the next several minutes, neither had a chance to speak. MJ felt wildly hysterical, sobbing and laughing all at the same time. Peter held her close, waiting for the storm to pass. When at last she calmed down, he tried to explain again, but she silenced him with a kiss.

"It's okay, Tiger," she whispered as she pulled away. "I know. I know… you're Spider-Man and weird things happen."

"Doesn't always," he murmured, resting his forehead against hers. "Sometimes I skip it and sometimes it's only a few days. And then there's times that it's longer… and it can happen more than once in a year. Coldest times of the year, usually. But I can never count on it. Sorry I didn't tell you."

"Well, now I know. Just glad you woke up in time for Christmas week. D'ya know how much I missed you, Tiger? Or… should I call you Spider?" She pressed her lips to his again.

"Call me whatever you want, just don't call me late for dinner," He disentangled himself from the blankets as she released his lips. "I'm starving. Like ravenously starving. If I don't get something to eat soon, I'll slip into a coma for real this time."

"Don't you dare," MJ warned him. "No more sleeping except at night time. Understand?"

"Got it. Hey MJ, how's the city?"

"City's still standing, Tiger," she grinned. "But they're demanding your return."

"Don't worry," he called from the kitchen. "I won't keep 'em waiting long! Just as soon as I empty the fridge…"

"Go get 'em, Tiger!" MJ laughed.