Chapter Seven: Cobwebs and Kisses

Harry Osborn was taking a bath. He had filled the old tub in his and Peter's tiny apartment with steaming water and gooey green bubble bath soap, and immersed himself in the heat. The doctor in the emergency room had recommended a bath as a muscle relaxant to soothe his bruises from the balcony attack, and it felt wonderful. He batted a few bubbles around and sank deeper into the tub.

Maybe the bath would clear his mind. Lately, he felt so lost. His dad was acting weird, even more distant and preoccupied than usual. Well, that was no surprise – most of his board of directors had been vaporized a couple of days ago. Norman Osborn was working hard, trying to manage everything on his own. What was he supposed to do, drop everything because Harry might have been seriously hurt? He was fine, he was all right.

Even MJ wasn't wasting time sympathizing with him. The thought of her spectacular rescue woke a sick, hurt feeling in his stomach. He felt that every time he heard the excited admiration in her voice when she mentioned Spider-Man. And she mentioned him a lot. Oh, she'd asked if Harry was OK, fussed over his band-aid for a second or two, and then gone right back to rhapsodizing over the vigilante who had rescued her. Was it Harry's fault he had been knocked unconscious? He frowned and sloshed around, letting the water slap lightly over his hands. He was starting to hate the mere sound of Spider-Man's name.

Then there was Peter. Harry scrubbed at his face. Sure, he should have told Pete about MJ, about them dating. But just because Peter liked her…he hadn't done anything wrong, asking MJ out. Pete hadn't yelled or anything – well, he wouldn't – but Harry almost wished he had. Then he could defend himself, point out that he'd been totally within his rights, hadn't done anything except ask out a girl that Peter didn't have the guts to date. But Peter had quietly accepted it, agreeing with Harry immediately. Now all his self-justifications were boiling around inside without anywhere to go or anyone to agree that he was a good guy, that he hadn't gone behind his best friend's back.

No matter how he looked at it, though, he kept coming back to the idea that he'd let Peter down. He'd disappointed him, just like he always disappointed his dad. He was beginning to suspect he was a disappointment to his girlfriend too, starting to wonder why she was even dating him. All of it made him feel lost. Who was he, really? Did he have anything to offer anyone? Everyone around him seemed to know exactly who they were and where they were going.

Face it, he thought bitterly, your dad's a great businessman, your best friend's a genius, and your girlfriend's a successful actress. You're the one with all the problems, and they don't need to listen to you whine. Harry dunked his head under the water, holding his breath, and surfaced again. The band-aid came off his cut and floated around. Harry stared at it morosely, flicking it back and forth with one finger. He remained sunk in thought until the water cooled, wallowing in his bath and his self-pity, completely unaware that everyone he loved was lying to him.

Norman Osborn was taking a break. There were reports and files spread over his desk, urgent matters needing his signature, memos calling for immediate action, lists of phone calls that had to be made. Since the death of the board members, his workload had skyrocketed. But he found it hard to concentrate. His mind would drift, long minutes ticking by while he stared into space. He knew, now. He knew how special he was. He'd spoken to the other one this morning, before leaving for work. The empty yellow eyes had met his while that rasping voice spoke to him, instructed him. He needed to get back, to hear the other one explain how it was all going to work out.

Spider-Man. Yes, Spider-Man had heard his offer. Such a glorious offer, too. That amazing creature would be his partner and his heir. They were two of a kind – extraordinary. It was what he'd always wanted. He'd forgotten, almost, that he had a son. The other one didn't think much of Harry. But Spider-Man could take what the Goblin had done, everything he'd built, and defend it. Rip all those mewling, helpless sheep out of the way of true greatness. Like him, Spider-Man had a true face, a real face, that made him unique. Norman frowned. What if Spider-Man didn't join him? He'd offered him the world, hadn't he? Of course he had. He needed to go home, talk to the other one again.

When he was home, hearing that voice, it all made sense. Here at the office, things got…fuzzy. Things got difficult. He stared blankly at the desk and picked up a pen, preparing to go back to work. But he couldn't make the page he was reading make sense. With a snarl, he shoved the mass of paperwork off the desk, sweeping it clean and hearing the clatter of paperweight and phone and pens hitting the floor with satisfaction. That was better.

Watching their director storm out of the building, the personnel of OsCorp exchanged looks. Everyone knew things were going downhill. Norman Osborn wasn't the leader he had been. Nothing came out of his office these days but vague memos – no decisions, no management. Nearly everyone was putting together a résumé and making new plans. If Norman Osborn was on the edge of a breakdown, it was better to be prepared.

Mary Jane was taking a deep breath. She had turned up for the callback, and done her best, but the job had been offered to another girl. She'd overslept and had one of those mornings – toast burned, out of hairspray, stubbed her toe, argued with her roommate. In the end, she'd been late to work, and then work had run late and she'd barely had time to change before running to the studio. Man, today had been bad. She was standing on a small stage facing a director now, and since the deep breath didn't seem to be enough, she counted to ten before she opened her mouth.

"Thank you." The smile felt more like a grimace, but it was the best she could do.

"You have potential, but you need to do some hard work if you want to be an actress. The community college offers acting lessons." The director was arrogant and dismissive, and MJ felt her throat get tight. She nodded and walked off as quickly as she could without actually running, until she was in the shadows backstage. Then she bent her head and shoved her palms into her eyes, fighting back tears. It was all too much.

She knew her audition hadn't been very good. She was worn out, tired from all the running around today, and the fight she'd had with Janeen before leaving for work had her keyed up and upset.

"Did you see the Bugle? Looks like Spider-Man's going to be arrested."

"No way." MJ grabbed the paper and scanned the shrieking headline and then the article. "No way. He is not working with the Green Goblin."

"If he did attack the editor, I don't blame him. That paper's done nothing except run Spider-Man down." Janeen leaned on the kitchen counter, crossing her arms.

"I don't believe he even did that. He's not," Mary Jane hesitated, looking for the right way to put it, "He's got a sense of humor. He wouldn't go after someone just for being a jerk."

"Says his girl." Janeen was staring at the wall, not looking at MJ.

"Oh, please. He saves a dozen people's lives a week." She watched Janeen picking at a nail, astonished by her barely hidden hostility. Then Janeen shrugged, and her mouth twitched into a smile.

"Sorry, MJ. It's – well, God. Sorry." She shrugged again and laughed nervously. "I'm really jealous, OK? You got to meet him, and since then, you talk like you know him. It gets on my nerves."

Hugging herself, Mary Jane sighed. "Right. Thanks for giving me a hard time. I wasn't having a bad day or anything. And it was such a blast, nearly dying."

"I said I was sorry."

"Look, I've got to get to work." Mary Jane grabbed her purse and her coat. Janeen ran up to her before she got to the door.

"MJ, wait." Janeen looked embarrassed. "I should've warned you, I get a crush on someone and my brains leak out my ears. I didn't mean to take it out on you."

"It's OK." MJ let Janeen pull her into a hug and then chuckled. "Hey, for all we know, you have met him. He could be anyone under that mask!"

"Sure, he's really my boss at the yoga studio. Gary's flexible, I never see him nights, and he's got cobwebs all over his apartment. Here I thought it was just because he never cleans house…"

They'd both laughed. She was glad she hadn't run out in the middle of the fight, but she'd been late to work. Then she'd run home to change, so that she could make this audition. And completely bomb. She dropped her hands and slowly gathered up her possessions, heading out into the wet night. Harry had promised her dinner, and she could stand being pampered for once. Not that it would be easy. Her relationship with Harry had been strained since the Unity Fair and Shawnee's comments about leading him on haunted her uncomfortably. As she walked out the door and down the front steps, she realized she was still holding the script for the audition scene. The director's condescending comment came back to her and she threw it angrily into a sidewalk trash can, before pulling her coat together against the cold.

"Hey, it's me again!"

The familiar voice brought MJ to a halt, and she turned to see Peter Parker jogging down the street toward her. "Hey!" Her face broke into her first genuine smile of the day.

"How was your audition?"

"How'd you know?" She hadn't told Harry. Since she'd already told him she was getting plenty of work, it would be odd to be excited over one audition – although she'd daydreamed about landing the part and telling Harry that she was going to be on TV. And it had never occurred to her to call Peter. But here he was, smiling at her.

"The hotline. Your mom, told my aunt, told me."

"So, you just came by?"

"I was in the neighborhood, needed to see a friendly face." He grinned apologetically. "I took two buses and a cab to get in the neighborhood, but – " MJ chuckled and thought that she was the one who needed to see a friendly face. Peter's open interest in how she was doing, his caring, made the rainy night suddenly seem fresh and welcoming rather than cold and inconvenient. "So how'd it go?"

The unhappiness of a moment before came back over her. "Oh. They said I needed acting lessons." She looked at his concerned face and was able to pull up a chuckle. "A soap opera said I needed acting lessons."

He laughed with her, and the humiliation and disappointment faded into the background. "Well, let me buy you a cheeseburger. The sky's the limit…up to seven dollars, and eighty-four cents."

Laughing and nodding, she confessed, "I'd like a cheeseburger." She really would like it, too. Why was it that she never spent any time with Peter, when talking to him always made her feel better? But she already had a date, and she had to let him know. "Oh, but I'm going out to dinner with Harry."

His face fell, and she asked him if he'd come with them. He was friends with both of them. Why couldn't they spend some time, the three of them together? But when he refused she wasn't surprised. She suspected that going out with Peter and Harry would be awkward. For the first time she wondered if Harry and Peter had talked about her, and what they said about her when she wasn't around. Peter had an odd way of being in sync with her thoughts – his next words answered her unspoken question and confirmed that Harry didn't feel comfortable discussing their relationship with his best friend.

"How's it going with…" She looked down, and he broke off. "Uh, never mind. That's none of my business."

"It's not?" She thought it over, searching Peter's face, and gave into the temptation to put him on the spot. "Why so interested?"

He blushed and began to stammer. "I – I'm not."

"You're not?" She let him know she wasn't buying it.

"Why would I be?"

"I don't know. Why would you be?" They both knew that he was, and why. Peter liked her. He always had, but for the first time she wondered what it would be like to date someone like him – someone who liked her, tacky waitress uniform and all, someone who showed up at her auditions and offered support, someone she could really talk to and didn't feel the need to impress.

She watched his face pass through a dozens different expressions before he replied lamely, "I don't know." She let it go. Maybe she was wrong, and he didn't feel more than friendship for her. It wasn't like she had a great track record with knowing how guys felt. And she didn't love him, right? It wasn't like she giggled over how cute he was or daydreamed about being seen with him, how great it would be to be his girl. No, this wasn't love. This was friendship, and it was sweet, ordinary and comfortable. She needed a good friend.

"Sorry you won't come with us," she said softly. He gave her that apologetic expression again, and lightning flashed overhead. She turned away, and looking over her shoulder said, "I better run, Tiger." She splashed off through the puddles filling the street before he could respond, cheeks burning, hoping he wasn't laughing too hard at the silly nickname. Tiger? Where did that come from? She couldn't stop smiling, feeling better than she had all day, even though the rain had begun to pour down. Wet, lighthearted, and late, she made one of the worst decisions in her life – she decided to cut through the back alleys to the bus stop.

Five minutes later, she realized that one moment of being stupid was going to cost her for the rest of her life. The men had surrounded her, hooting and calling, and although she fought as hard as she could there were just too many. One had a switchblade, and MJ was terrified, not knowing if she would end up dead or end up wishing she was dead. Thrown with her face against a brick wall in a filthy alley in the rain, she wished desperately for someone, anyone, to help her. Then she was free.

Spinning around, MJ peered hesitantly through the wet tails of her hair and saw four men being pulled across the street with webs held by a dark figure standing on the rooftops over the other side of the alley. He flipped easily down to the slick pavement as the thugs tumbled to a stop. They fought against their fate – as helpless as she had been a moment before – and two were thrown clear across the alley into the windows on either side of her. She flinched and covered her head automatically, although she was half convinced this was all a dream. Spider-Man knocked the four men unconscious within seconds. She walked toward him, and seeing her he dropped the last man and looked around anxiously for an escape, his wet hair dripping in what little light there was behind him. Wet hair? He's not wearing his mask. MJ ran toward him, calling for him to wait, but he spun gracefully and was gone.

Disappointed, Mary Jane pushed at her hair and glanced around, not expecting to find anything. He hadn't spoken a word, left her as though she was exactly what she'd told Janeen she was – one of dozens of people whose lives he'd saved.

"You have a knack for getting in trouble."

Spider-Man's voice came from right behind her, and she jumped. Turning and laughing, she looked into her rescuer's emotionless mask. He was, bizarrely, hanging upside down. "You have a knack for saving my life." High with relief and excitement, she teased, "I think I have a super-hero stalker."

"I was in the neighborhood." She could hear the self-deprecatory shrug in his voice, as if being there to save her was only to be expected. Looking at him, she could hardly believe he was real. For the second time in a week she had lost her life and he had handed it back to her as easily as some other good Samaritan might return a lost purse.

"You are – amazing," she said.

"Some people don't think so." There it was again, like his immediate flight to hide his face, a vulnerability that caught at her heart. The gratitude that welled through her told her that whatever people thought, this was a good man.

"But you are."

"Nice to have a fan."

"Do I get to say thank you this time?" MJ reached for his mask, not quite believing her own daring. But this couldn't be a coincidence, could it? Maybe he had been looking out for her. Maybe he knew, somehow, that she had needed him tonight. And he had stayed, stayed to speak to her, let her hear how much he too needed someone tonight.

"Wait." The command showed a trace of panic, but Spider-Man didn't move. Without words, Mary Jane knew – knew, as if their thoughts were perfectly synchronized – that he would let her unmask him. And she knew he understood that she wouldn't do it, wouldn't take that step for him, not until he was ready. Carefully, she tugged at the seam where his mask met his costume and pulled the soaked fabric down over his chin.

Leaning forward, she cradled his head in her hands and met his lips in a kiss that deepened instantly into something much more than a thank you. It was a communication more perfect than anything she'd every experienced, a giving and receiving of passion, recognition, joy, a discovery of another soul that left her stunned. At that moment, she knew that what they shared wasn't a dream, but more real than the rain, the cold, the night itself.

Trying not to break the connection, she stretched the red fabric back up, keeping their skin touching as long as possible before he disappeared once more behind his mask. In an instant, he shot upward into the sky, and she let him go. Once more she could feel the rain, and laughing she raised her face to the drops falling like diamonds.

A/N: I promised this to betty yesterday, but I was having trouble getting into my account. Also, not my best chapter ever...but it works great as a break from 'Boy.' :-D