The response to this fic continues to be absolutely amazing - I'm so happy so many people are so eager for the next chapter every time I post a new one! It's a wonderful way to have your work appreciated, so believe me when I say - thank you to everybody who's made an effort to check it out!

For songs, try Stoppin' the Love by KT Tunstall and Life is a Rollercoaster by Ronan Keating. Also Smile by Lily Allen, if you need an extra one to listen to if you're a slower reader.

There's a little surprise at the end of this, so enjoy!

Since the ridiculous events of Friday night, Michelle's mind felt like it was tumbling around in a washing machine. She wasn't quite sure what to take as the truth anymore, especially now that she'd discovered some ridiculous hoodie of Parker's, and jumped to about a thousand other ridiculous conclusions as to what it might mean.

The Saturday morning she woke up early, and set off for the library, she became mildly aware of the fact that everything surrounding the idiot was becoming more and more centred around her. Maybe, yet again, she was being fanciful about it, but maybe she was being what she was also ridiculously good at:

Observant.

All the evidence had been stacking up against Parker for near a whole year, and even if she had been as observant as a brick, it didn't take a genius to figure out something freaky was going on with him.

Dropping clubs and skipping class. Constantly talking in hushed whispers when Ned was around. Making up lame excuses for every stupid thing he did, every time he didn't turn up for something he should've been there for.

Then, to more observant people, the other things as well. His change in shape. The difference in how he walked. The drastic 180 in how he conducted himself. He'd been awkward and nerdy, sure, but now he was skittish and cautious – more nervous around people.

He was keeping a secret.

That much was obvious.

But as she walked down the main avenue, towards the library, bag tucked against her leg, for once wearing a straight, white t-shirt and dark denim jeans, her brown cardigan tied around her waist, book in hand, she began to wonder if maybe she was only concocting these theories because she really was just obsessed with him. It seemed a more plausible excuse than the one staring her in the face.

Slipping in through the library doors, flashing the assistant a rare smile, she took a seat in the back, marvelling at the sweeping windows and bookcases, feeling like she'd escaped to some paradise lost, able to think quietly, without all the traffic clogging her thoughts.

She pulled out her English essay, taking a quick glance over the notes she had so far. Parker had often passed his over to her and vice versa, and she could pick out his print writing, like something copied from the text in a comic book. It was easily very different from her own small, loopy handwriting, but it was so quirky - so him - it made her smile a little.

He'd written strange things in the margins – mostly cheeky question marks in groups of three, as if to question her authority on the subject. One comment caught her eye: 'he's caught in a trap of power' that made her pause for thought.

Maybe Parker was better at this than she was giving him credit for.

She didn't deny he had intelligence – smarts that kept him on his toes. No matter what Flash did in any of the science subjects, Parker flew past him with relative ease, able to pluck the answer out of thin air, even if he'd slept through the entire class.

In English, he was mostly a quiet figure – but when asked, he made a point that made her head whip up. Something about the characterization, or a question about setting.

He kept surprising her, and it made her mind flash to all her memories of him in the past.

The scrawny boy in 6th grade who cried when his new sweater was laughed at. The boy in 8th grade who got shit thrown at him for wearing glasses.

Michelle remembered every moment. All the sweaters, and geeky comments, and strange looks, and every single time she saw him getting bullied and never did a thing about it.

She grimaced, staring at his handwriting, remembering the way he'd looked. Comfortable, and at peace, an easy smile on his face as he'd questioned her and made points and sat cross-legged on his chair, hair a mess and hands tapping on his knee as he bit his lip in thought. The boy who'd probably wasn't as weedy and skinny as she'd thought. The boy who laughed like he didn't care who heard him, and who made weird faces at offhand comments.

The boy who seemed to be carrying her heart away with him, no idea how easily he'd captured it with just one smile.

Michelle sighed, opening up her book at where she'd left off. If she kept thinking about it, she'd only make it worse. The boy had infected her – made himself too present in her mind for her to forget him now.

She silently fumed over how easily she'd let herself go.

She pretended she didn't notice how often her eyes traced his writing, side by side with hers.

Several hours later, the mid -afternoon had swooped in, and Michelle decided to make a point of going for coffee – a daily ritual when she went to the library every Saturday. As much as the smell of books intoxicated her senses, and made her feel like she could rest easy wherever she was, coffee helped keep her alert, and it was one of the few modern 'trends' that she could see herself participating in.

Her walk down to the coffee shop was uneventful; the walk out was not so much.

With everything that happened these days, coming across robberies or explosions, or some other petty crime taking place outside the nearest shop - like some morbid pantomime - made for a rather laid-back attitude. It became second nature.

Michelle sometimes found herself enthralled, with the dozens of others, as she watched Spider-Man swing by, dropping in to save the day.

Some days she thought it was all just a stunt and something only idiots got mesmerized by.

Other days she was never anywhere nearby and she secretly felt deflated for having missed the action.

She never claimed to be a simple person.

This particular afternoon, at a quarter past four, two men had burst into a bank, armed and with masks over their faces, yelling at the assistants to hand over everything. Michelle watched on, nibbling at her lip as she took a sip of her coffee, before deciding, possibly stupidly, to get closer to the action.

She also never claimed to be a careful person.

Dashing across the road, still too far away to be in any danger, she watched on among others as the people in the bank began throwing out the money, guns not yet pulled but most certainly in their belts. She took another sip of her coffee.

Any minute now.

She watched, only mildly enthused, as a blur of red and blue swung in, landing at the entrance to the bank, turning around in time to see the gathering crowd.

"It's gonna be fine!" he shouted, before jumping in, beginning his usual drill.

A thought flashed across Michelle's mind, as her relaxed stance froze, hand diving into her bag as she shifted around for her book.

It wasn't there. She'd left it in the library, inherently thinking she'd picked it up, just like she did every Saturday once she left the library.

Mind whirring, heart thumping with the new wash of adrenaline pumping through her veins, she shoved through the people crowded around her, trying desperately to push past, back in the direction of the library.

What the hell had she been doing that she'd forgotten it? Honestly, her head was gone these days.

She could hear shouts behind her, followed by a crash, but she didn't turn to look, too focussed on her book.

That'd cost 15 dollars, hardback and all. Alright, so maybe she couldn't decide if 'Far From the Madding Crowd' needed to be a hardback (the paperback was probably just as good), but it'd been one of her mum's favourite stories as a girl, and she'd promised her feverishly that it'd be one of the best she'd read yet.

And it was just sitting in there, for any idiot to pick up.

Just as she was about to reach the library doors, someone shoved past her. He was heavy set, broad shoulders –

One of the men from the bank robbery.

"Get outta the way!" he snapped, pushing her to the ground, as he stormed past her, his gun now drawn.

Michelle clambered to her feet.

"Asshole!" she shrieked back at him, flipping him the proudest middle finger she could.

Another shout was heard from behind her, Michelle turning just in time to see one man webbed to the side of the bank, the money fluttering to the ground. Spider-Man was outside again, staring in the direction of the other man, eyes narrowed.

He webbed past her, dragging the other guy back by a web, before clamping his hands to the ground with more of the synthetic silk, landing nimbly on his feet, dusting off his hands.

"Seriously, don't run with the money, dude! It's way more obvious that you're a thief,"

He turned, ready to stroll past Michelle, until he caught sight of her, standing defensively as she watched him.

"Michelle?!" he exclaimed, as the people dispersed, cop sirens blaring in the background, probably on their way round to the block.

"Um, yeah – imagine meeting you here, Spider-Butt,"

He rushed over to her, staring at her cheek.

It was only now that she felt the slight stinging pain on her face, realizing it'd been scabbed when she'd fallen, most likely on the rough sidewalk beneath her.

"You're hurt!" he cried, hand instinctively reaching out to brush her cheek. She backed away, opening the library doors.

"Whatever. I've had period pains worse than that. I left my book," She dipped into the library again, leaving him stranded on the curb, quite speechless at her comment. He'd never had cause to think about that level of pain, and certainly had never planned to. He saw her head of explosive curls disappear round the corner, in search of her supposedly missing book.

Michelle thundered up the stairs, half-running, half-walking back to her desk, relief washing over her as she saw it still sitting there, untouched from where she'd left it. She practically dived on top of it, shoving it into her bag as she went back the way she'd came, heart slowing down to a more normal pace.

Her brain was finally catching up with her again, now realizing that she'd just told Spider-Man about her period pains.

Michelle huffed out air, smoothing her hands down on her jeans.

Probably not her finest moment.

Other things kept floating to the forefront of her mind, but she wilfully ignored them. Now was not the time for her hare-brained theories.

Slipping back out onto the sidewalk, the crowd had dispersed, the men being packed into the back of a police car as the officers took statements from the witnesses. It looked like some had been more badly injured than she'd thought – perhaps she wasn't as observant about some things as she claimed.

Was this city ever going to calm down?

Just as she was about to start making her way home, Spider-Man dropped down in front of her, tilting his head slightly.

"Uh, hey again," he didn't sound as casual as he probably wanted to. Michelle folded her arms, watching as his eyes narrowed and widened respectively, trying to get the right look for talking to her. She quirked an eyebrow.

"So, what – what are you doing here?"

"Some light reading,"

A moment of silence.

"Oh – right."

More silence.

"Well, look – I got to go home for said light reading, so I'm gonna go –"

He hastened to step in front of her, blocking her path.

"Hey, I could, you know – take you home. I mean, if you want to! It's just a suggestion –"

Michelle tapped her foot against the ground, considering, as she avoided his gaze. Considering said theories, did she really trust him as much as she had done in the past? If what she thought might be the truth, then maybe she ought to run in the other direction.

She paused her foot, studying the cracks in the stones, trying to concentrate on her breathing.

Overthinking everything, as usual. Way to go, Michelle.

"I don't know – why would you ask?"

She stared at him, straight on. She still managed to be just a bit taller than him, but the gap was narrowing. He could look her straight in the face as it was.

She frowned. Someone else she knew had grown about that much too.

Stop it, Michelle. Christ.

"Uh-" He seemed to be having trouble with an answer. Michelle sniffed.

"Yeah, alright. But if you drop me, I'm personally going to kick you in the balls, and then maybe write a short story about it, and present it to my class,"

His eyes had widened considerably, all awkwardness gone from his voice.

"Please don't do that – Christ, that's harsh-"

"Yeah, whatever – are we going?"

He looked shocked, almost, at her blunt reply, but then again, it was still hard to tell under the mask. She'd read so many theories about him – age, race; if he was maybe a bug-mutant, humanoid in form but insect-like in face. Or perhaps an extremely chipper alien.

Or maybe, as Michelle was beginning to believe, an extremely chipper high schooler in her class.

She'd already noted that yes, she'd been crushing on Spider-Man before she'd found the hoodie. The saving people thing was quite an attractive quality, and he had seemed so genuinely kind. Michelle liked kind in people – it made them seem so vulnerable, but in such a way that made them achingly human.

Forgive her if she was reading too much poetry at any given moment.

Maya Angelou had that way about her.

But yes, that had been her life before she'd found that stupid hoodie.

It wasn't even the biggest issue.

The biggest issue was that maybe, if any of the ridiculous theories she had were true, then it was that he'd never thought to tell her.

She pushed the thought from her mind. It was just a feeling – a theory that she only indulged because it meant that, maybe, her crush was paying more attention to her than she knew he was.

Michelle hated her head sometimes. She hated it so, so much.

Spider-Man shifted on his feet, offering his hand.

She took it skeptically, keeping an eyebrow raised for aesthetics.

They webbed up to the top of the library, overlooking the rest of the city. The warm sunshine beat down on her, as the traffic continued to speed past, yellow taxis, low hanging electricity cables, clouds lazy as they stretched across the sky, almost golden in their haze. So much of the day was still left, the sun determined to stay where it was for as long as it could.

She kind of felt like that too, sometimes.

Michelle breathed in once, just as he turned to her, eyes now a more normal size. He seemed to be slightly on edge, like he knew she didn't trust him for whatever reason, and now, she began to realize exactly what she agreed to.

"You know, you don't need to keep trying to save me. I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself,"

"I don't doubt it," he laughed, staring out at the skyline in front of him. Queens was visible from here, like an extension of the main city.

Man, she loved this place.

"Alright, shoot," she said, looping her bag across her shoulder, to prevent it from falling away to the city streets below.

He took one glance at her, a smile almost visible beneath the mask.

"Uh, OK – you sure?"

"You asked, dumb ass,"

"Oh, right – yeah, I did. Right,"

He took her by the waist, preparing to shoot for the next building.

"I swear, if you drop me-"

"I'm not gonna drop, you, seriously!" he laughed, webbing to the wall, before running and jumping from the building, swooping down into the city below, and suddenly, Michelle Jones began to realize what people meant when they said their stomach jumped into their mouth.

Like, properly.

Every time she felt like they'd plummet to their death, he webbed to the next building, and the next, the giant arcs making her hair fly back from her face and her skin feel like she'd dived head-first into ice cold water. She could feel the sounds of the city zoning in and out of her ears, as they continued round the blocks, nearing her house.

She'd forgotten when she'd looped her arms around his neck, holding on for dear life, but it wasn't a bad thing. She was still surprised by how secure his arms felt; by how safe she felt near him. Even as they dropped death-defying metres down into the city below, she knew he was already making his way forward again.

"You're actually not half-bad at this," Michelle shouted over the noise of the traffic as they made a particularly low dip, zipping back up to the nearest building.

Spider-Man laughed.

"Yeah, I – it takes a bit of practice. This is only my second time with someone else,"

Michelle slapped his chest in irritation.

"Idiot. Should've said something. I could die and I would totally sue you for it,"

"How could you? You'd be in the ground,"

"Whatever, Spider-Butt. I have my ways,"

He snorted at that.

"Uh-huh. Cool,"

They finally swung down onto the roof of her apartment, sliding down the web as he deposited her through the window, Michelle clambering in unceremoniously.

Some way to get home.

She turned back to him, as he hung upside down, looking a little sheepish. He had this super annoying habit of scratching his nape every time he was even marginally nervous, but Michelle had to admit: one afternoon and already the evidence was becoming impossible to ignore.

Dammit, Parker. It just had to be you, didn't it?

"Well," he said, laughing. Michelle frowned heavily, taking a breath.

She knew it was him. She just did. The voice, the height, the nervous ticks, the way he laughed, how he stood. Everything about him – it just screamed Peter Parker back at her.

She felt stupid for having tried to pretend otherwise.

She felt stupid for not having guessed quicker.

She stared at him, beginning to piece it all together.

The Washington Monument. That had been him, clambering up the walls, speed unparalled.

The Vulture. That had been him, trying to stop the destructive maniac from getting away with using alien technology.

That had been him. Swinging around on a thin as thin web, hurling himself into danger every day of the week, saving friends, strangers, and all citizens alike.

Trying to make the world so much better.

Trying to be a much better person than maybe anyone had ever asked him to be.

Michelle sighed, running a hand through her mess of curls.

"Stay there. Don't even twitch,"

She swept into the kitchen, pulling out a chocolate bar from the cupboard, realizing it was Parker's favourite: fruit and nut.

Weird.

She ran back to her bedroom, laughing a little when she saw him hanging on, as she had asked, fiddling with his web-shooters, as he turned in lazy circles on the web, his feet alone keeping him suspended.

Heck. They really had been muscles she'd caught a flash of yesterday.

She swallowed carefully.

"Take it," she said, thrusting the chocolate bar into his face, making him pause his fiddling, staring between her and the chocolate.

"Wait, it – is that for me? What, but I – I don't –"

"Stop blabbering or you're not getting it at all," she snapped, swiping her curls from her face, tucking her hands under her armpits, feeling a lot more conscious than she ever had done of any situation.

He carefully took it in his gloved hand, turning it over in his hand. He gasped.

"Ah, man, fruit and nut! I love that! How the hell did you –"

His words were cut off as Michelle leaned out the window, swiping a chaste kiss on his cheek as quickly as she dared, ducking back out before he could even register it.

"Thanks for not being a dickhead. Now get out of here, loser. You're blocking my world view,"

Spider-Man seemed to have lost all ability to speak, instead stuttering out what sounded like an attempt at a frantic 'thank you', struggling to keep his grip on the web.

"What – what was that for?" he squeaked, tucking the bar into his belt.

Michelle didn't answer, replying with a wave of her hand.

'Shoo', it said.

He took the meaning.

She walked slowly over to her window again, watching as he swung off.

Damn it.

That was Peter Parker.

Of course it was.

Life just wasn't fair.

For anybody who's wondering if I have any kind of playlist for this, the answer is yes.

I've complied a list of songs on Spotify, that I think reflect the story, Peter, MJ, Spider-Man, the craziness of love and life, or perhaps just a song that I liked, and was listening to it as I wrote some chapter. Who can remember - certainly not me.

The link's available here for anybody curious: user/ingenioussprite/playlist/3Loo3xZLxZ46i1PoqewpoC

Give it a shuffle - see what comes up.

The cover credit goes to oreosmunroe on tumblr. Her character aesthetics are gorgeous.

Thanks again to those of you who have been leaving reviews and kudos! It's a joy to read them.