A/N: I guess everyone is busy with their own writing this weekend... :) Thanks to the three of you:

Jenn1: I hope it's a "good" bad feeling you are getting. I wonder what your story idea is...?

Ziggybuttercup: Thanks. I hope you enjoy the train passengers' involvement as the story goes along.

Mark C: I enjoy reading your summaries of the chapter. It helps me confirm whether the reader has caught everything, and what things I need to make more clear.

Best Wishes

Chapter 6: Threads

"Do you like these flowers better than the ones we had picked out before?" Peter asked. The two of them sat at their kitchen table, making final decisions. They had met with their florist, Ms. Peters, earlier that afternoon. Luckily, Monday was a night off for both of them.

"Hmm?" Mary Jane was staring at him distractedly. She started and looked down at the page he was referring to. "Oh, yes, these are just a little nicer, don't you think?"

"I think so if you think so. You're the one who will be carrying them," he demurred.

"I think so, then."

Peter marked the page with a sticky note, then closed the binder. Beneath was a list of items for the caterer. They were having cake and hors d'oeuvres only. Peter had marked the ones he thought they could afford. "Which of these do you think we should get?"

She was not looking at the list. He looked up at her and found a goofy grin on her face. "Well?" Peter asked again.

She glanced down and picked up her pencil. "How about these?" She marked 5 or 6 items.

"Okay, are we going with white, chocolate or red velvet for the cake?"

"How about red velvet with blue icing?"

Peter looked up again at her, momentarily confused. Then he nudged her shoulder with his fist. "Oh, niiiice. Shall we add black webbing in licorice?"

MJ giggled. "And one of your action figures next to the bride."

"And then... ah, no, I can't top that." Peter cleared his throat, and looked at her askance. "What's up? Not in the mood? You want to deal with this later?"

Mary Jane smiled secretively, but said, "I'm sorry. I keep thinking about our meeting earlier." She took a breath and continued. "I'm thinking I'm glad I'm getting you off the market."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Didn't you notice how the florist looked at you? So intense, like she was memorizing every detail. And the way she hung on your every word. It was like I wasn't even there," MJ smirked.

"I, uh..." Peter blushed.

"I think she might have a crush on you, Peter Parker." Her smile was widening.

"What? No, she's married with kids - she had a picture of them on her desk." Is Mary Jane just yanking my chain?

"So? Plenty of married women fantasize about other men. Not that I will, of course. I already have my fantasy guy." She patted his hand, and stood up, starting to move away from the table.

"And who could ask for a more fantastic woman?" He stopped her by grasping her hand and kissing it gently. "Seriously, she was nice, but more like an older sister. She had a familiar air about her..." He had felt right at home with Ms. Peters, like she already had surmised everything they would need. He was lucky to have found her shop.

Peter stood up himself, and came around to MJ's side of the table. He threaded his arms through hers from behind, and placed his hands on her waist. "I know who has a crush on you," he whispered in her ear.

She swiveled in his arms and laced her hands behind his head. "I figured that one out ages ago." She kissed him tenderly.

Before they knew it, they were kissing more urgently, and moving toward the bedroom. Falling with her on top of the covers, Peter stopped for breath. "May 6th can't come soon enough."

"Do you think we'll make it through the reception?" she said, nuzzling his ear.

A year ago, when they had first become intimate, Peter and Mary Jane had made love passionately, as if they were trying to make up for lost time. Since then, they had learned to slow down and enjoy each other fully. Removing clothing became a languorous process.

They intended to use the night off wisely.

Harry sat down at his desk. It's time to check on MJ.

What he saw when the connection established turned his stomach. Though the picture was grainy, the sight and sounds of Peter and Mary Jane's 'activity' were enough to make him retch.

But oddly enough, he couldn't stop watching with a mix of fascination and anger. When he and Mary Jane had been together, she had hardly allowed him to kiss her, let alone touch her the way Peter was at this moment. His hand hovered over the touchpad.

Suddenly Peter's head pivoted, eyes focused directly toward the camera.

"What's wrong, Peter?" Mary Jane asked in a confused tone of voice.

He leapt out of bed, and came to stand before the tall dresser. "How long have we had this clock, MJ?"

Mary Jane pulled the sheets around her, nonplussed by the way he had broken off their lovemaking. "A couple of days now, why?"

"It's gone now, but for a few minutes, I felt a sense of danger coming from it. Where did you get it?"

"It was a gift from Louise." Mary Jane was still a little shaken.

He turned and looked at her intently. "She gave it to you directly?"

"No, it came in the mail…" MJ was starting to understand his unease.

Peter switched on the light, picked up the desk clock and started to pry off the back. "Forgive me, Louise," he apologized before the back splintered off onto the top of the dresser. Now that he could see inside, he noticed a bit of wiring spliced to the mechanism. Attached to this was a tiny pencil-eraser sized lens.

He tore it from the wiring and held it closer to the light for a minute as he examined it. "This was never a standard feature." He handed it to MJ.

"Is this a.. oh, my God," she blushed. "Do you think we were just being spied on?"

"The way I reacted to it? I would bet on it." His eyes narrowed in anger as he thought about what the spy had seen. "Who would do this? Are they after you or me?" He then sat on the bed beside her. "What could they have seen or heard?"

Mary Jane thought a minute. "Well, if you didn't notice it until just now, it must have only been turned on when you weren't home, right?"

"Most likely."

"I guess it might have recorded me sleeping, or changing clothes." She grimaced. She looked to the bedside table where she had laid a receipt. "Or any telephone calls." Picking up the scrap of paper, her face turned pale.

"Didn't you say the other night that you were investigating a fire? What street was it on again?"

"Lorraine Street. Why?"

MJ handed him the paper. It was a receipt for alterations on her wedding dress. He looked to the top of the slip: "Big Apple Cleaners, 56 Lorraine St."