Thursday., October 31. HALLOWEEN.
Aunt May opened the door, and blinked. Peter stood on the stoop in a black turtleneck, black suit jacket, and black slacks. He smiled at her.
"Peter, where's your costume?" she said with a smile as he strolled in and she shut the door.
He wordlessly reached into his jacket and pulled out a pair of plastic Groucho Marx glasses, with the nose and the furry eyebrows on a plastic frame. With a gesture he snapped them open and slipped them on. "I don't DO costumes," he said. "And not nearly with your fancy touch."
She blushed. "Do you like it?" she asked, turning sideways. She wore a pink dress, a ribbon in her hair, and little fairy wings made of unbent clothes hangers and pantyhose, spray painted.
"Fabulous," Peter said, years of practice helping him contain his laughter behind a fond smile. "Now, since you got apples for the little squirts that will be trick or treating tonight, I thought I'd go out and get them some candy, something to spoil their dinner and exasperate their parents." Peter grinned.
"Oh, fine," Aunt May said. "Don't be long. I expect them to start coming around six." She frowned. "It's rush hour, you know."
"Trust me, I'm a pro," Peter said. "I'll be back before you know I'm gone."
"I do have tootsie rolls," Aunt May said, a bit worried. "Do children still like tootsie rolls?"
"Oh yeah," Peter chuckled. "I have an ulterior motive. Whatever we don't hand out I get to keep."
"Ah," she said, nodding sagely. "You shouldn't eat a lot of candy, Peter. It isn't good for you."
"I brush twice a day and floss daily and, believe me," he said, "I get my exercise. I'll be back in a minute, you won't even miss me." And he was gone.
She sighed and smiled, then started bundling her candy into gauze wrappers for each trick-or-treater. She wondered what kind of costumes would show up on her stoop tonight.
xXx
The door creaked open and the attractive blonde in a bunny suit smiled. "Harry! MJ!" she said. "Glad you could make it."
"Wouldn't miss it," Mary Jane said as she breezed past. "So how are we doing so far, Gwen?" she asked.
"Pretty good?" Gwen shrugged. Her nose was painted pink, and rays of whiskers were drawn on her face with eyeliner. Her hair was arranged around the base of the bunny ear headband, and she was in a pink leotard with a white puff of a tail.
"Quit staring," Mary Jane said as she prodded Harry. He looked at her, amused, his strap-on horns poking up out of his hair. He swept his plastic cloak up, tucking his nose into the crook of his elbow, and glared at her over his cloak-wrapped arm.
"But I am lust and evil incarnate! And I have a plastic pitchfork!" He poked her with his pitchfork and she squeaked, and they headed into the living room.
"Halo's crooked, hon," Harry noted absently, though that wasn't what caught his eye about her sheer white angel outfit. She shrugged.
"Let it ride," she said with a sly smile. "Hey people, we're here, so things can get started." She smiled brilliantly at the couple on the couch. "Hey, Tandy, how you doin?" she asked.
The platinum blonde smiled at her from the couch. "I'm an elf," she said, tossing her long flowing hair back and smiling. She wore a leather vest laced up the front, tights, boots, Vulcan rubber ears. "He's my Ringwraith," she added, pointing at a skinny black kid sitting on the couch next to her holding a glass of punch and draped in a black sheet. He started, grinned, then grabbed at his makeshift hood and managed to pull it up over his head.
"I'm s-s-ccary," he said, wiggling the fingers of his free hand. She rolled her eyes and jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.
"Cut it out before you make everybody scream and drop their drinks," she said.
"D-dd-don't I g-get a s-s-ss-scythe?" he said.
"Ringwraith," she said patiently. "Not Death."
"Right, I kn-n-new that," he said.
"That's good, Ty-ty-eye eye rone," boomed a voice from the doorway to the music room. A tall square shouldered man filled the doorframe. "Long as you know what you're dressed up as."
"Hey Flash, how's it going?" Harry said. "What are you? Towelboy?"
"Scuse me," Flash said, striking a pose. "I am Hercules!"
"Ah," Harry said, nodding sagely. Mary Jane half restrained her grin.
"L-ll-looks l-like a sh-h-eet to me," Tyrone commented.
"Difference between your sheet and my sheet?" Flash replied. "I make this look good."
"Now cut it out, you two," Gwen said, breezing in past the new arrivals. "We've got the food all set up in the kitchen. Flash, your laurels are loose." Gwen fussed with the fake ivy in Flash's curly copper hair.
"There's a quotable quote," Harry muttered, and he and Mary Jane laughed as they found their way to the kitchen.
"Hey, MJ," Gwen asked, catching up. "Where's Peter?"
xXx
Peter's senses unreeled before him as he moved. He hit the 5:15 bus downtown just right, then he found all the holes in the crowd to get into the Wal-Mart with uncanny speed for a casual mover. He hit all the right candy displays, his senses auto-calculating tax, quantity discounts, and values without him asking it to. Then he was in precisely the shortest and thinnest line.
The harried clerk checked his purchases out, then Peter was absently looking across the crowd as he slapped down precise change. To the penny. Including tax. The clerk smiled and blinked, and he scooped up his purchases and was on the move.
"Maybe this is my new squirreling," he murmured to himself as he slid right into the bus as it pulled up to the curb, dropping exact change into the machine at the front. "Maybe this is how grownups do it." His smile broadened. "Can't wait to do taxes this year."
He looked out the window, thoughtful. "Maybe," he murmured to himself, "this is better than squirreling." He pretended that some part of him did not ache with loss at the thought.
xXx
"Dad, can you handle the door?" Gwen said over her shoulder.
"Elementary, my dear Gwendie," He said, standing tall and thin in his greatcoat with his deerstalker hat. He lit up his pipe, the long curved Victorian one he normally kept on the mantle. He smiled at her fondly and headed over to the door to manage the influx of college kids. The doorbell rang steadily with more partiers.
"I even convinced him to bust out his old magnifying glass he used to use when he was on the force," Gwen said with a smile at Mary Jane. "Thanks for helping out."
"Only so much testosterone you can handle in one sitting," Mary Jane said with a devious grin. They heard Harry's rapid, high laugh as he scored in the male pecking order establishing itself in the living room. "All that flexing and growling. It's only interesting if I'm at the center of it."
Gwen handed her a knife and the peanut butter as she started cutting up more celery stalks. "You're the sort who got men to kill each other in rapier duels in the middle ages," Gwen said.
"Takes all kinds, Miss Needlepoint While My Hubby Gets His Head Chopped Off in the Crusades."
"A bit early yet to work out next year's costumes," Gwen pointed out archly. "So how's Harry treating you these days?"
"Like a princess because he values his life," Mary Jane said as though stating the obvious. "And the lummox?"
"That's not very nice. I don't call Harry Pixie Boy."
"True. How about Flash Thompson then?" Mary Jane said, not in the least rebuked.
"Predictable," Gwen said, "and trustworthy and reliable."
"Ooh," Mary Jane said, squinting and pursing her lips. "Sounds like Gwendie is looking for the Parker Antidote."
"Now, come on," Gwen said, not looking up from cutting the celery. "Let's leave Peter out of this."
"Did you invite him? You know, Peter?" Mary Jane said, blithely ignoring the words and the sentiment behind them.
"Yes," Gwen said. "He didn't reply, but… you know Peter. Never know when he might show up."
"Don't hold your breath," Mary Jane said wryly. "I think Peter, I think shallow, flaky, jerk," she said thoughtfully.
"If only," Gwen said, something bitter in her voice. Mary Jane raised her eyebrows.
"If only what?" she said.
Gwen glanced at her, then stared back down at the carefully cut celery. "If only he was shallow and flaky, and just a jerk. That would have been okay."
"Pervert?" Mary Jane asked, lifting one eyebrow even higher.
"MJ!" Gwen said, her face flushing. "No!" She glanced around, then returned to her task. "No, nothing like that. But he's not shallow. There's something else going on with him. Something deep and dark. Something murky. Something dangerous." She shook her head. "He works overtime to hide some secret, and I never found out what it was. That's why I had to leave him. I couldn't share him with… with whatever he's hiding. I couldn't compete with his secrets and I didn't feel like I should have to," she said simply.
"I never saw any of that," Mary Jane said dismissively.
"You never loved him, either," Gwen pointed out dryly.
For just a moment, the thought gave Mary Jane pause.
xXx
Peter strolled down the sidewalk, effortlessly weaving through the crowd. Then he hesitated, his step faltering. Something. Something out of place. He followed his instinct and glanced into the book store across the street.
The guy standing at the checkout desk was wearing a ski mask.
Peter turned to fully stare through the window. This was not a prank.
For a moment his senses flashed alive, his blood raced, he felt his muscles and joints loosen and prepare to hurl him into action. But he had no mesh.
And let's face it, whatever the spider ghost may be, Peter Parker is no hero.
"Thanks," he muttered.
Not going to get involved with crimes in progress, his thoughts reminded him.
Angle, trajectory, through the window and a quick spurt of web, situation over.
"No," he managed through gritted teeth.
No?
"Gotta get my mesh," he hissed, and he turned and sprinted for the bus stop that would drop him off five blocks from Aunt May's house.
Somewhere, forlorn, a thought echoed in the back of his mind.
It's going to be too late.