Chapter Thirty-Two: To Be Or Not To Be

Peter stopped at the front door, staring into the teardrop-shaped room, his heartbeat an alive and determined creature trying to claw its way out of his throat. He could hear the clattering of dishes from the kitchen and inwardly cringed. Annabelle was awake...and she knew that he had ditched her. Peter could not imagine how she felt that morning - awaking to empty sheets after opening her home, and her bed, to him.

Just imagining the hurt that he may have caused her made Peter want to run as far away as possible, but his Uncle Ben had always told him that if he built up the guts to do something, anything, then he'd better make sure he had enough leftover to face the consequences of that something. It usually meant having a tummy ache after drinking too much milk before bed, but it was probably applicable in this situation as well.

Peter took a shaky breath and finally closed the door behind him. His walk into the kitchen was slow, almost like a shuffle, and when he finally reached the paint-splattered counter he saw Annabelle draped in a loose-fitting shirt (coloured like a giant rainbow) and baggy sweatpants. She had just finished cutting a few slices of cheese from a block, throwing it into a giant bowl already filled with chopped apples.

Peter tried not to look too disgusted at the sight of it, but no matter how many times Belle insisted that he eat some, he couldn't stand this diabolical combination.

Annabelle turned and smiled at him, "Oh, hey Pete."

"H-Hey..." He stammered, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. "Sorry about the whole...disappearing thing."

There was an audible 'crunch' as Annabelle stuffed a piece of apple and cheese into her mouth. Despite her mouth being relatively full, and the food mostly in chewed within, she opened her mouth to reply, "What?"

"I kinda left without saying anything, and I know that's really not cool but-"

"It's fine, dude." Annabelle interrupted with a raised eyebrow. It was clear that she didn't find anything offensive about his vanishing act.

Peter was so surprised by this nonchalant reaction that he almost choked on his own spit. "I-It is?"

Annabelle finally chewed the food in her mouth and swallowed it before replying, "Uh, yeah. Why wouldn't it be?"

"Well...most people wouldn't like waking up to see that the guy they spent the night with just...l-left."

Annabelle piled more fruit into her mouth, finally enough to slightly garble her speech. "Most people are stupid. I figured you had a class."

Peter's forehead wrinkled. "Yeah...?" He replied with an uncertain and high-pitched murmur. "Yeah...I did," he repeated, at least trying to sound like he believed it himself.

"Cool. Betcha it was boring," she joked.

Peter bit his bottom lip inconspicuously. Could fighting an army of upside-down aliens be considered boring? Probably not for any normal person, but for him it was just another weird encounter in a sea of strangeness. Peter forced himself to nod, "Yeah, I suppose it was."

Annabelle offered the bowl to Peter and he did his best not to look disgusted. It was true that Peter had spent most of the last few years starving in an empty apartment, but even he had his limits. Apparently apples and cheese sandwiched together was one of them. He couldn't exactly say that though, not if Annabelle liked it. So, he opted for picking out a small slice of apple by itself, but it had already been contaminated by the cheese - tiny bits of cheddar had stuck itself to the white centre and transferred its flavour onto the apple. Peter threw it into his mouth and held his breath, trying to dull the taste coating his tongue.

"My main concern," Annabelle began, jumping onto one of the bright yellow stools tucked behind the counter, "is that you'll start acting all weird on me after last night."

"M-Me? Weird?" Peter gulped down the apple carcass that had trapped itself in his throat. "N-Nah, I'm good."

"Great, well then we can forget that it ever happened," she grinned at him as if she hadn't just crushed all of his hopes in her pen-marked fingers, but then added, "unless that's not what you want."

Peter knew what he wanted to say, but often times what he wanted to say and what he needed to say got into violent brawls. He wanted to tell Annabelle that last night had been beyond anything that he had dared to dream. He wanted to tell her that she was weird and clumsy and extremely difficult to understand, and that she was the highlight of every single day...but he needed to say that this was just a one time deal. The closer that she became to him, the dearer he held her in his heart, the more danger she would be in.

He had the words planned out in his head, but every time he tried to move them past his lips they fell into silence. Thankfully, Annabelle seemed to notice his dilemma and broke the tense quiet that pushed down on Peter like a falling building, "I suppose dating Spider-Man comes with its own set of risks though, so I understand your hesitation."

Peter's entire face drained of colour. "Wh-What? I told you, I'm not Spider-Man!"

"Oh, right, you're a 'cosplayer' that doesn't attend conventions and sells fake pictures to the press. Sorry, I forgot." Annabelle replied, trying her best not to appear too smug. "Either way, Pete, it doesn't matter. I like you. I like you as a friend, I like you as a bed buddy, and I like you as a partner. I don't really care about anything beyond that. We can be a couple, we can be friends, or we can be an occasional hook-up. I'm fine with any of it."

At this stage Parker's face was redder than the coke cans sitting next to the sink (ready to be recycled for ten cents each). He hadn't been expecting such an open array of options, but Belle always had a way of surprising him.

"It's up to you, Pete," Annabelle continued, gesturing to him with a piece of cheese between her fingers, "it's not official until you say so, until then I'm not fussed about where you go or who you're with."

There was nothing Peter Parker wanted more than to flail his arms about and scream 'No! I don't want anyone else!' but he knew that it was a dangerous urge. One that should be ignored at all costs. Instead, he simply nodded his agreement and inwardly cursed his own indecisiveness.

"Cool." Belle said, tucking the bowl into the fridge for later and (much to Peter's shock) pulled off her shirt. "You up for another round?"

Peter choked on nothing but air, coughing and splattering spit as he stared wide-eyed at her bra (painted like two watermelons). "I-I...I mean...what? Y-You're sure?"

Annabelle chucked her shirt over the kitchen counter in a messy heap, and it crumbled onto the floor next to the couch. "Wouldn't suggest it if I wasn't. Besides, you're a lot better in bed than I expected."

Peter wasn't entirely certain whether he should be flattered or insulted by her observation. He was glad she enjoyed her time with him as much as he did with her...but why had she assumed that he'd be a bad lover? Scratch that, why did everyone assume that? Well, they hadn't always been wrong but he had vastly improved over the years. "Yeah...my ex-girlfriend's were always kind of...particular about that stuff."

"Maybe I should thank them." Despite the small chuckle that rippled through her throat, Peter got the distinct feeling that she was serious. He could already imagine the preppy girl skipping up to Mary Jane and enveloping her in a hug, congratulating and thanking her on training Peter on female pleasure.

Peter's entire face flushed, "Please don't..."