Peter could look at his decision either way. Either he was going
completely out of his mind or he had chosen the right thing to do. He was
hoping it was the second one.
Everything had made itself right, except for great loses. A madman had been put to rest, Aunt May was out of danger (with a replaced wall) Peter still resides with Harry, yet has no clue that he's living with the man that killed his maniac father and Mary Jane had gotten an apartment only two blocks away from Peter and Harry's apartment.
And tonight was the night Peter would tell her. He had left her at the gravesite, by Uncle Ben the day of Norman Osborn's funeral, but all his fear of the next villain using his loved ones against him had made him stiff-lipped into telling her the truth. Peter loved her. She confessed in loving him back, but there was one factor in the equation that still kept him from her…Spider-man.
And tonight was the night…
Peter slowly slithered on his primary-colored identity and looking at his own reflection in the mirror one more time, he slipped the flexible mask of scarlet over his head. He went over to his window and perched himself on the ledge. Taking a deep breath, he shot out gossamer webbing and slung himself around skyscrapers, sighing all the way.
Peter was sitting on the edge of the rooftop, staring down, across the way into Mary Jane's bedroom. Her light was shining through wan curtains that framed French doors leading out onto a balcony that was just one of a single row of balconies on that building.
Mary Jane appeared to be tidying up before bed, since it was like…1:30a.m. She waddled around, seemingly tired. Peter kept watching until he noticed her rummaging through her top drawer, pulling out some pajamas. M.J. threw them on the bed and began to take off her shirt…
Peter immediately snapped his head away but began to slowly turn back. He turned just in time to see her huddle up under the covers and switch off the light.
'It's time,' Peter thought while the rest off his mind was going haywire. He shot webbing down and thank God she had the top balcony or else he would have slammed right into the one above hers.
He planted his feet out and landed softly just above the door. Peter snapped free of the webbing and landed as softly as a cat right in front of her balcony door. Well, at least he had landed like a cat but he had completely and accidentally dragged his hands on the glass of the doors, causing an odd squeaking/scratching noise to admit from underneath.
Peter cursed himself for being so fumbled but he accused his mind for making him act so for his mind was going a light-year per second. Once the light of her bedroom flicked on, he cursed out loud, back-flipped and landed on the cement railing of the balcony.
But he was too late, for Mary Jane had opened the double doors and greeted him, "Hey…what are you doing here?" not at all unkindly but most curiously.
He was in a crouching position, hands planted between his feet. The slight breeze pulled on the drapes and tugged them outside, lapping at M.J's feet and dancing around her body. Her claret hair was a little longer now, and swept across her pale skin of her collarbone.
"Beautiful," Spider-man thought but realized he had said it softly instead. MJ heard.
She flushed considerably but not as greatly as Peter was beneath his confinements of his mask. "Why, thank you for the compliment, Spider-man, but you have yet to answer as to why you're here."
He stood up, walking along the thick, cement railing of the Mediterranean-looking balcony. Spider-man graced slowly to the corner, as if he were gathering his thoughts. He stood at the corner, but didn't turn, just stood there, staring down at the twinkling street, then tilted his head up towards the darkness. "Lovely…aren't they?"
"Huh? Oh…the stars." M.J. grasped as to what he was talking about.
"Yeah…but not as lovely as the star I barely see anymore…yet she's the brightest of them all," Spider-man said almost incoherently, but she heard.
"So you've seen the posters, huh?" Mary Jane said almost ashamed.
"No, actually…I saw the show…" he said, trying not to hint at all of who he is.
"Oh really! Which night?" she sounded over-ecstatic.
"Tuesday…" Spider-man answered without thinking.
"I remember that night. I was having such a bad day, tripping on the stage and all, but everyone I knew showed up," Mary Jane spoke with a brilliant smile, "Harry Osborn, May Parker, her nephew Peter Parker…do you know any of them?"
He paused, thinking of what he should say. "Yeah. I fought Harry's father…the Green Goblin." While he spoke he did a left-handed half- cartwheel into a handstand. He brought his feet slowly and gracefully through his steel arms until he could sit on the railing, facing M.J.
"What about May Parker…and Peter? Do you know him Spider-man?"
"Don't call me Spider-man," he mumbled with absolutely no emotion, it was as if he wasn't even there.
"Then what do you want me to call you?" she asked somewhat seductively, taking a stride towards his legs.
"Call me P…" he immediately stopped himself, hung his head and came back to reality, "Do you trust me?" He covered it as much as possible.
She looked at him in confusion and tilted her head like a cocker spaniel. "Yes, of course I would trust you…you only saved my life." As if she was thanking him again, she placed her gentle hands on his knees, stepping in closer, placing herself between his legs.
Peter visibly flinched and audibly gasped. He finally found his voice, "Then if you trust me…" he wrapped his arms around her tightly and leaned backwards, sliding off the balcony ledge, taking her with him…
Everything had made itself right, except for great loses. A madman had been put to rest, Aunt May was out of danger (with a replaced wall) Peter still resides with Harry, yet has no clue that he's living with the man that killed his maniac father and Mary Jane had gotten an apartment only two blocks away from Peter and Harry's apartment.
And tonight was the night Peter would tell her. He had left her at the gravesite, by Uncle Ben the day of Norman Osborn's funeral, but all his fear of the next villain using his loved ones against him had made him stiff-lipped into telling her the truth. Peter loved her. She confessed in loving him back, but there was one factor in the equation that still kept him from her…Spider-man.
And tonight was the night…
Peter slowly slithered on his primary-colored identity and looking at his own reflection in the mirror one more time, he slipped the flexible mask of scarlet over his head. He went over to his window and perched himself on the ledge. Taking a deep breath, he shot out gossamer webbing and slung himself around skyscrapers, sighing all the way.
Peter was sitting on the edge of the rooftop, staring down, across the way into Mary Jane's bedroom. Her light was shining through wan curtains that framed French doors leading out onto a balcony that was just one of a single row of balconies on that building.
Mary Jane appeared to be tidying up before bed, since it was like…1:30a.m. She waddled around, seemingly tired. Peter kept watching until he noticed her rummaging through her top drawer, pulling out some pajamas. M.J. threw them on the bed and began to take off her shirt…
Peter immediately snapped his head away but began to slowly turn back. He turned just in time to see her huddle up under the covers and switch off the light.
'It's time,' Peter thought while the rest off his mind was going haywire. He shot webbing down and thank God she had the top balcony or else he would have slammed right into the one above hers.
He planted his feet out and landed softly just above the door. Peter snapped free of the webbing and landed as softly as a cat right in front of her balcony door. Well, at least he had landed like a cat but he had completely and accidentally dragged his hands on the glass of the doors, causing an odd squeaking/scratching noise to admit from underneath.
Peter cursed himself for being so fumbled but he accused his mind for making him act so for his mind was going a light-year per second. Once the light of her bedroom flicked on, he cursed out loud, back-flipped and landed on the cement railing of the balcony.
But he was too late, for Mary Jane had opened the double doors and greeted him, "Hey…what are you doing here?" not at all unkindly but most curiously.
He was in a crouching position, hands planted between his feet. The slight breeze pulled on the drapes and tugged them outside, lapping at M.J's feet and dancing around her body. Her claret hair was a little longer now, and swept across her pale skin of her collarbone.
"Beautiful," Spider-man thought but realized he had said it softly instead. MJ heard.
She flushed considerably but not as greatly as Peter was beneath his confinements of his mask. "Why, thank you for the compliment, Spider-man, but you have yet to answer as to why you're here."
He stood up, walking along the thick, cement railing of the Mediterranean-looking balcony. Spider-man graced slowly to the corner, as if he were gathering his thoughts. He stood at the corner, but didn't turn, just stood there, staring down at the twinkling street, then tilted his head up towards the darkness. "Lovely…aren't they?"
"Huh? Oh…the stars." M.J. grasped as to what he was talking about.
"Yeah…but not as lovely as the star I barely see anymore…yet she's the brightest of them all," Spider-man said almost incoherently, but she heard.
"So you've seen the posters, huh?" Mary Jane said almost ashamed.
"No, actually…I saw the show…" he said, trying not to hint at all of who he is.
"Oh really! Which night?" she sounded over-ecstatic.
"Tuesday…" Spider-man answered without thinking.
"I remember that night. I was having such a bad day, tripping on the stage and all, but everyone I knew showed up," Mary Jane spoke with a brilliant smile, "Harry Osborn, May Parker, her nephew Peter Parker…do you know any of them?"
He paused, thinking of what he should say. "Yeah. I fought Harry's father…the Green Goblin." While he spoke he did a left-handed half- cartwheel into a handstand. He brought his feet slowly and gracefully through his steel arms until he could sit on the railing, facing M.J.
"What about May Parker…and Peter? Do you know him Spider-man?"
"Don't call me Spider-man," he mumbled with absolutely no emotion, it was as if he wasn't even there.
"Then what do you want me to call you?" she asked somewhat seductively, taking a stride towards his legs.
"Call me P…" he immediately stopped himself, hung his head and came back to reality, "Do you trust me?" He covered it as much as possible.
She looked at him in confusion and tilted her head like a cocker spaniel. "Yes, of course I would trust you…you only saved my life." As if she was thanking him again, she placed her gentle hands on his knees, stepping in closer, placing herself between his legs.
Peter visibly flinched and audibly gasped. He finally found his voice, "Then if you trust me…" he wrapped his arms around her tightly and leaned backwards, sliding off the balcony ledge, taking her with him…