Hey Guys!

FORTY SIX REVIEWS! Ya'll are crazy! Thank you soooo much!

Enjoy! Thoughts? :)

-Homey :D

Disclaimer: Peter Parker does not belong to me. If he did, he'd probably not be Spider-Man and all the comics would be about his fascinating relationships. Just sayin'.

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

She found herself saying yes, leading him inside, asking did he want anything to drink? His answer was no.

They sat on her couch, in her house, right next to each other.

Peter picked at some lint on his shirt. Silence enveloped them. Gwen grew impatient, tapping her foot against the carpet. When was the talking part going to happen? And, if not, could there maybe be a kissing part?

"I'm sorry about your Uncle," she said at last, hoping he didn't notice the fresh blush in her cheeks. "Really, truly sorry."

Peter looked down. "Yeah. About that. I wanted to thank you for…that day."

"I didn't do anything," Gwen said.

"I don't know…it felt like you did." Peter looked down. His face was drawn into a permanent frown, and his eyes were dark and lifeless. "It's not fair."

"No…" Gwen reached across the small space between them and put her hand on his shoulder. "It's not."

Peter looked at her hand. So similar to the time he had first talked to her. What was it? Two, three weeks ago? How did he feel like he'd known her for so long, when in reality they'd just started to talk?

Gwen slowly leaned away, drawing her hand back with her, unsure of what his silence meant. Had she just gone too far? Darn it, she had, hadn't she? Ugh.

"Thank you," he said at last. "For giving me the time of day. No one else does."

Gwen blinked back tears, surprised by the wave of emotion that suddenly overcame her. "I…I don't…"

Peter smiled at her. "But you don't have to do this. I know you're nice Gwen. You're just—you're really nice. And I appreciate that. I came here to say that I don't want sympathy. I don't want you to feel like you have to talk to me, and friend me on Facebook, and hang out with me just because you're nice."

Her lips parted in shock. Where was this coming from? Gwen grabbed the sides of her head, trying to get her thoughts in order.

Peter watched this unfold with a purse-lipped, half-formed smile. "Ah, I see."

She looked up at him, eyes blazing. "What exactly do you see, Peter? Hm? I'm trying…I'm trying to think of a way to get through to you, but you're shutting me out! You're not giving me time!"

"I'm tired of people pretending," he said, touching her shoulder.

"That doesn't even make any sense!" Gwen stood, abruptly furious. "Get out. Get out of here, out of my house, out of my life." She sniffed. "Just go."

He stood slowly, on unsteady feet. "I don't-"

"Please," Gwen begged. "Leave."

He headed toward the door, looking longingly over his shoulder at her. "But I didn't think…"

"Didn't think what? I'd take your stupid advice? Maybe I was just being nice because I felt bad for you! You bought this on yourself, Peter."

"Okay. Fair enough." He opened the door, pausing in the threshold to dig around in his pockets. "Wait. Wait a sec. I've got something-"

"I don't want it!"

"Here." He tossed a little square of something in her direction, but the draft from the open door caught it and it twirled to the floor.

"Well," he said. "That didn't go so well."

Gwen stifled a laugh. Here she was, hysterical, angry, and sad, all at one. Finally she bent over and let out a loud, obnoxious guffaw.

Peter barked a surprised laugh. "Wow…I didn't know girls could laugh like that."

She laughed again. Harder, this time. "I…don't…"

He stepped closer to her, shutting the door behind him. He bent over to retrieve the paper the same time she did, and they bumped heads.

"Ow…" Gwen groaned, sinking to the floor and giggling at the same time. "This is not going to work, is it?"

"We should try again."

"Okay."

They both leaned in, straining for the piece of paper. Gwen tilted her head back a little bit to see Peter looking at her. She leaned closer. He leaned closer. Their lips were only a couple inches apart…

The door creaked open and Captain Stacy came strutting in. Gwen leaped away from Peter, her skirt flying up around her to expose the girl-boxers underneath. Peter gaped. Captain Stacy sighed. Gwen wanted to die.

"Gwennie, you didn't tell me you'd be having…" He gave Peter a cold glare. "Friend over."

She stood, smoothing the skirt back down around her thighs. "Um. I didn't really know it myself."

"What is this?" He demanded, annoyed. "Some kind of…booty call?"

Peter flinched. Gwen swallowed heavily.

"Oh my god, Dad! Please! Don't even-"

"Well, you had your skirt hiked up around-"

"OH MY GOD, DAD."

"-your waist and he was leaning in and I figured-"

"PLEASE. Don't even."

"-that you were about to…"

"What?"

Gwen and Captain Stacy both turned to Peter, who was pushing himself up off the floor. "What did you think we were going to do?"

His nostrils flared. "To be perfectly honest, boy, I thought you two were-"

"I swear, Dad! If you say anything at all, I'm never going to speak to you again!"

The room went silent. Finally, Captain Stacy cleared his throat. "Right."

"And Peter is my friend, Dad." She stepped up beside him, folding her arms across his chest. "Peter Parker."

"Oh. Oh." He turned to him. "I'm sorry. I'm real sorry about this and your loss. Of course you wouldn't…I mean…you're a good boy, I've heard."

"Right." Peter nodded. "Good being the operative word."

"Exactly." Captain Stacy headed toward the kitchen. "Say bye, Gwennie. I need you to come help me make dinner."

She sighed, turning around. "Okay. Well, bye."

"Bye." Peter turned toward the door. "Are we, um, good?"

"Yeah." Gwen smiled. "We're good."

She waved at him until he disappeared around the corner, then turned around and started toward the kitchen. A flash of white caught her eye.

It was the paper he'd been trying to give her, turned facedown. Carefully, Gwen picked it up and flipped it over.

It was the picture he'd taken of her that day, the first time they'd talked. She was laughing at his pepperjack comment. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her nose was wrinkled, and her mouth was opened too wide. But she thought she'd never looked happier.

Peter was right. She was photogenic after all.