Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel. I like Marvel though. That should be enough to protect me from a lawsuit, right? Right?
Warnings: Does fluff count as a hazardous material? I almost self- combusted from this chapter.
Triggers: None. Wait, no, that's a lie. You might laugh out loud or cover your eyes from the sheer sap here. You've been warned.
Navigating The Curve
By Juliette Lyst
Stand By Me
Yawning widely, Peter struggled to rub sleep out of his eyes. What did he think he was doing really? He must have started losing his mind. Painting jobs in the morning and now he was looking for jobs at night. He was trying to find a way to hustle to get just a little more cash. The situation in the bedroom was still as awkward as it had been the first night. Peter usually ended up slipping out of the bed to sleep on the floor in the room.
It appeared… that Jennifer was a hugger, a clingy hugger at that. She liked to press right up against him and squeeze. He needed a bed, true - but he was not so desperate for one that he was going to subject himself to bone-crushing hugs in the night. So far, he'd been able to substitute a firm pillow for his own body… but that left him no space at all in the bed. He also wondered if Jennifer had some extra sense to let her know when he tried to leave the room.
Twice now… Twice… Peter had tried to escape the room, only for Jennifer to whimper, roll over and ask him if he was alright. It was sweet, endearing even - but he realized that escape in the night was nigh. She'd gotten pretty clingy in the daytime too. Now, it seemed that he couldn't move anywhere in the apartment without her suddenly appearing.
Naps were a welcome escape for them both, but she kept creeping over to his side of the bed. To protect himself, Peter had intently formed a wall of pillows between them at one point once Jen was asleep. He might as well have made that barrier out of rice paper. As soon as the full length of his body hit the sheets, she was on top of him. He was increasingly uncomfortable, but wasn't sure how to tell her. He didn't want to hurt her feelings or irritate her.
He just wanted to know why she kept trying to hold him in her sleep. Peter could admit to himself that he was afraid of the answer.
Sitting up on the floor, he winced and rubbed a section of his left deltoid where a kernel of pain had settled in. Not as nimbly, he rolled himself up off the floor… picked up his covers and left them in a messily folded pile on the bed. Jennifer was sprawled out on her back, her mouth hanging open. Her covers were half on her body and half off. He gently pulled the covers back up to her chest and turned to head into the bathroom. It was time to get ready for work.
He woke up fully in the shower. The water at the start had been freezing cold, which was exactly what he needed. After stepping out of the shower, he dried himself off and wrapped a towel around his waist. Busily brushing his teeth - he was startled when the door opened.
Jennifer scurried in, dealing with a very full bladder. She was so distracted that she didn't realize he was there. In fact, she plopped down to sit with her eyes half closed. Thankfully, she'd worn an oversized t-shirt to bed. It protected her modesty.
Shaking off his shock, Peter resumed brushing his teeth. It was best if he didn't allow this predicament to distract him. There were more pressing issues he needed to deal with. Soon enough, he relaxed… mentally planning out how the day was going to go. When he went to gargle though, he was reminded that someone else was in the room.
"Oh no…" Jennifer's voice came out in a croak, uncertainty in her voice. "How long have you been here?" Jennifer was staring up at him from where she was seated, her eyes threatening to jump from the sockets.
Peter returned her stare with wide eyes as well. His hair was plastered to his forehead, still damp from the shower. He was
holding a small cup of mouthwash, having put part of it in his mouth. What was he supposed to say? He was also still swishing the mouthwash awkwardly. Spitting out the mint flavored cleaner into the sink, he opened his mouth a few times… unsure what to say. He wasn't the one who had barged into the bathroom, but he didn't want to bring that up. "Umm… A while." He blinked again, watching as Jennifer mirrored his actions.
She flinched, tugging her shirt further down between her legs. "Are you sure?" She looked like a deer caught in the headlights, having frozen in place. Her forehead and chest were flushing.
One of us has to move… Peter realized. With a sigh, he resumed gargling. The sooner he left, the sooner she could finish. He tossed the small paper cup into the trashcan, pausing because he had to maneuver around Jen's legs to get out of the bathroom. "Huh… Strange," he remarked, staring down at her.
"W-What?! What could be stranger than this?!" She felt her ears beginning to burn, as the blush spread.
He'd had to step so carefully - because she wasn't moving out of the way - that he found himself staring right down at her knees and toes. "I thought you wore underwear to bed."
That made her pull her legs back in reflex, and it made his exit from the bathroom a lot smoother.
"Parker!" she hollered, mortified.
He heard her howl as he returned to his make shift bed in the living room. Laundry for him had been easy before, as he didn't have many clothing items. Now though… He was going to have to go clothes shopping because his jeans had splotches of paint. It was an additional problem. Not only did he need a bed, but he needed a place to store his clothes. How was she going to feel about that?
"I'm going to fix us breakfast before I leave, Jen!" he called back to her.
When the small brunette finally left the bathroom, he was dressed for the day.
Her face was so red that he was concerned for her health.
"Are you feeling… okay?" He hazarded after she shakily found a seat in the small dining room. He noticed that she still only had the oversized shirt on, but held his tongue.
Lightly shaking her head, she buried her face in her hands. She had opted for silence, which was likely best for both of them.
Gently patting her back, Peter walked into the kitchen. "I'm going to whip up a quick breakfast for us today." He heard a noncommittal sound and got to work. It was nearly six in the morning by his watch so he needed to hurry. He knew that Jennifer typically had oatmeal when she was on her own, so he fixed it up and took a few minutes
to put together a large sandwich for her. It was the first container he slid into the fridge. Grunting softly, he twisted his upper body and felt a crunch that brought instant relief.
With the water now boiling, he put in enough oats for three servings, knowing that his smaller friend would need something that would stick to her. He quickly went to work cutting up fruit as the oatmeal cooked. Why did she have 'Old Fashioned' oats in the cabinet? He wanted so badly to inquired about that. Instant would have been a lot better.
Soon, he was serving up oatmeal with brown sugar and sliced up banana mixed in. She'd fallen asleep at the table and was no longer flushed. Had that been embarrassment or something else? Lightly shaking her, he placed the bowl next to her. "Breakfast is ready."
"Pete?" She asked, her voice cracking.
"Yes?" He took a seat next to her and gently nudged her again. "Go on and eat."
Almost automatically, she began eating. The only sound she made after that was a soft hum.
They finished their breakfast together in companionable silence. 2PM - Downtown
Peter wiped the sweat off his brow, hissing faintly as some sweat dripped into his eyes. His white baseball cap was liberally coated in paint as was his shirt and parts of his face. They were promised that the gig for this building would last two weeks. Fourteen days of guaranteed work were a dream for him. He'd been so used to only finding one day stints at a time. If he kept his boss happy, he would be brought along for other jobs too. The money was very good.
And because he was paid under the table… his boss always seemed to add a little more than he was owed. He supposed he saved the man a bundle on taxes. That was one small detail that he didn't mention to Jen. She'd be livid if she found out that he was working under such conditions.
Officially, Peter wasn't even on the man's payroll and as such wasn't covered under the insurance clause. It did bother the young hero that he wasn't insured if there were accidents, but he was hopeful that he could soon find someone who would grant him that. He didn't want Jennifer upset if something happened to him - and not have the support he promised.
"Look alive Hammer!"
The sudden call coincided with Peter's spider sense activating. He jumped to the side, and full a bucket of paint landed right where he'd been standing scant seconds later. Copious amount of the contents splashed out onto his sneakers and pants. He sighed. Certainly, now he needed to buy new jeans. There was no way he wanted to walk around in stained clothing.
"Sorry about that!"
He looked up at one of his coworkers, noticing how horrified the other man looked. He was older judging by both his graying hair and mullet. He was also on the burly side. The older man was hurrying down the ladder as quickly as he safely could and rushed over.
"You okay, man? I'm so sorry about that!" He reached for the handle on the bucket and lifted it up carefully. A good half of the contents must have spilled out.
The only thing affected were Peter's jeans. Grinning a bit, he shrugged. "Thanks for the head's up, Harold."
Harold nodded, his features showing how contrite he was. "Anything I can do to make it up to you?"
Not expecting that, Peter considered the offer for a moment. "Well… actually…"
4PM - Nearby Eatery
"Wow! You're right about these subs!" Peter and his coworker were seated inside a sub shop having a very early supper. Harold had certainly talked the place up after the near accident. Peter had just asked him for a place to grab dinner. A quick phone call and both of them had walked to the site. Peter had ordered a Philly cheesesteak sub, believing himself to be an expert on the taste. After all, he lived so close to Philadelphia before that it was nothing for him to go there for a quick bite. He didn't have that luxury now though.
"Best place in town." Harold smiled. His sub had double meat on it, as well as three sauces.
"I can't disagree with that." The young hero mused. Jen would really like it here. Wait… "That gives me an idea." Peter spoke up suddenly. Without explanation, he wrapped up the rest of his sandwich. Hopping up from his seat, he returned to the line to place another order. His right hand twitched, wishing that he'd had time to get a cellphone set up. Instead, he had a pager strapped to his hip. Currently, he was able to use local payphones to call Jen at the apartment to let her know where he was. This time though, he was flying blind. What sort of sub sandwich did she want? Jen doesn't seem to care as long as its edible these days. He thought with half a grin.
"Why are we back in line?" Harold asked, still eating his sub. He had followed the younger man back to the line. He was glad now that he hadn't fully unwrapped his food.
"Going to get something for Je - Err… For someone else." Peter lightly coughed, almost slipping. He wasn't sure if Jen wanted anyone to know that they lived together. What did it matter though, at the end of the day? Those same people were still going to talk, especially when the baby grew larger. He'd been smart enough so
far - to not point out the obvious to her.
"Oh, for your ah… friend?" Harold asked. "You should let him know about this place. We could meet again after work tomorrow for lunch together."
"Uh…" Peter felt his ears warm. He wasn't sure what to say in response to that. Tomorrow was Monday. Jen was supposed to be heading back to work. She'd been fretting about it with increasing regularity as time dragged on. Feeling a buzz at his side, he immediately pulled the pager off his hip and read the message on the screen. Saved by the bell! he thought with glee.
The message on the screen was a simple one. It read: 'Dinner? Want me to cook?'
Frowning at the screen, Peter felt uncertain of how to react to that. Jennifer hadn't offered to cook once since he'd moved in. He'd taken the lead in that regard.
It wasn't that he didn't trust her cooking, but he wondered why she was offering now.
Unaware, Harold casually read over Peter's shoulder. "Is that a pager?" His surprise was audible in his voice. "Didn't know people still used those."
Before Peter could respond, another message flit across the screen.
Baby wants sardines. Get some.'
Then, he was unable to even speak. He wasn't sure why she was asking for sardines. Two days prior, he'd popped open a can of tuna and had the misfortune of being too close to her. She'd thrown up on herself before she could even leave the table. Is she trying to test me with this? Sardines smelled even worse than fresh tuna out of the can did.
"Baby?" Harold interjected, cutting right through Peter's chain of thought. "You're having a baby? Is that why you got back in line?" For the Missus?
Peter never had a chance to reply as others in the line turned to him and began congratulating him. Some of them offered to let him go ahead of them in line. How could he say no to that? Once he was back at the front, he ordered a footlong meatball sub for Jen, with double meatballs and extra cheese. He was hoping she'd be full enough that she would fall asleep easily.
After Peter paid for the order, he looked over to Harold… feeling a bit apprehensive. "Ah… can I use your phone for a moment?" Thankfully, Harold handed it over to him without a whisper of complaint.
Peter quickly dialed Jen's number. He waited patiently, then heard a hesitant voice on the other end of the line. "Hey…" He nodded faintly in response to what he heard on the line. "Yes… I'm not sure why you want sardines. Was that a mistake?" He sincerely hoped it was. His face scrunched up after that. She's going to eat them and get so sick… Peter certainly didn't like it when she became violently ill. There was always a worry in the back of his mind - that she'd need
to be hospitalized again. That was the last thing he wanted to
happen.
Harold waited patiently, vaguely able to hear a feminine voice on the other end of the line.
"N-No. I have no problem stopping for that. I got you a sub though." Peter stopped talking abruptly hearing something down the line. "Meatballs." He laughed then at her response through the line. "I can bring it back for you and then hit the store. I don't want your food to get cold." Glancing to Harold, Peter noted growing amusement on the older man's face. "Yes." Peter replied to something she'd asked. "I'll get more chips too. Okay. I have to go. I'll see you in a bit." Hanging up, Peter handed back the phone. "Thank you so much."
Harold dipped his head. "No problem. I remember when my wife was pregnant with our first." He lightly clapped Peter on the shoulder. "Sometimes, it's best just to agree with what she wants."
"But…" Peter started to interrupt. He knew that Jennifer's stomach didn't like strong smells.
"No. Anything she wants. She gets," Harold's features darkened. "Anything."
Instead of trying to say anything, Peter nodded. He wasn't certain what had happened to cause that reaction. After a moment, he put the pager back on his hip and checked his watch. "I need to head back so I can catch the bus."
"Nonsense." Harold replied. "You need a ride?" Peter's brows rose to his hairline.
Jennifer's Apartment - 5PM
Clad in a long t-shirt and sweatpants, Jennifer was standing at the sink and cleaning dishes. She jumped a bit hearing the front door open.
"It's me!" Peter announced at the front door. Stepping out of the kitchen, Jennifer was drying her hands with a dish towel.
"How'd you get here so fast?" Her eyes rounded a little seeing that Peter wasn't alone.
Pointing a bit over his shoulder with his thumb, Peter grinned. "Harold gave me a ride."
The older man waved a bit. "Nice to meet you, miss! I'm heading home, Edgar!"
Nodding at that, Peter closed the door after the older man left. "I have returned, bearing sardines, chocolate chips… and a meat sub!" He laughed at the look on Jennifer's face, quickly handing the bag to her.
"Where did you guys go?" she asked, already tearing through the wrapping and stuffing her mouth with a big bite. She moaned at the explosion of taste on her tongue.
Peter stepped closer to her and gently pat her belly before walking into the kitchen. "Harold knew about this sub shop near the job. They had the best cheesesteak I've had since I was in New York." When Jen didn't respond, Peter turned around. He swallowed down a
laugh. She'd taken a seat at the table and was trying to politely shovel down her food. "Please remember to chew." He quipped, going into the fridge to get her a drink.
"Mmpfh." She replied, trying to work through another mouthful. "I'm sorry. It's so good though."
He set a tall glass of milk next to her and took a seat beside her. "It's fine." He lightly rubbed her back. "How was your day?"
Pausing as she ate, she sighed, lowering her eyes. She muttered something under her breath.
"Jen?" Peter lowered his head to try to obtain eye-contact. "Bad day?"
"My…" Her next words were purely gibberish. Her mouth wasn't even full, but her words were unintelligible.
"Jen?"
"… and they don't fit…" she finished. She seemed very upset about that - upset and embarrassed.
While her first few words were hard to understand, he more than picked up on the last part. He scratched the back of his head, looking at her as she resumed eating. Opting to remain silent for now, he pushed the glass of milk closer to her. Stretching a little, he hoped out of his seat again and retrieved the half of his sub left from earlier. Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, he returned to his seat and plopped down next to her. "Want to share?" He asked, as means to get her to open up.
Perking up some, Jennifer leaned over. "What do you have?"
Peter smiled at her and unwrapped the rest of his cheesesteak. "Got this earlier when I was out with Harold. Want me to cut off a bite for you to try?" At her enthusiastic nod, he popped up from his seat again. Maybe by accident he'd found another staple for them at dinner time. Locating a knife, he returned to his seat and sliced a healthy chunk out of his sub.
"Cut some of mine too." At his raised brow, she smiled. "We're sharing, right?"
Peter nodded and cut a piece of equal size off her sub as well. Picking up the portion he'd cut for himself, he bit in. "Mmm! Those are really good." He got a bit of sauce on the corner of his mouth while he was eating and quickly licked it off. He was puzzled at Jen's transfixed stare then. "Jen?"
She was silent, her gaze growing unfocussed. He gently nudged her in the shoulder. Blinking a little, she rubbed her eyes. "Huh?" He pushed the bite-sized cut over to her.
"Oh!" Scooping it up, she popped it into her mouth. Her eyes widened comically.
Peter struggled to hold back laughter. Jennifer was always so expressive… about everything. When it came to food though, her reactions were hilarious. "It's good, right?"
Her head bobbed enthusiastically. "I almost wish I had that one instead…" Then, she looked at the meatball sub. "But this is so good too."
Peter nodded lightly.
She waited until he had resumed eating before speaking again. "Pete?" She offered a faint smile when he looked at her. "Do you
think we can fix spaghetti tomorrow?"
Peter nodded quietly. He knew that they still had some leftovers from the night before. She plowed through pretty much everything whenever he cooked it for her. "Of course, Jenny."
She smiled at that.
"That's nice. I wanted to fix something that dad and I… used to make all the time." Melancholy filtered through her tone. "I really miss him, Pete." She took another healthy bite out of her sub. "He doeshen
eben no bout teh bobi." She said, through her mouthful. Finishing
her bite, she let out a small sigh. "Before I left, I didn't have time to tell him." No… she reminded herself. It wasn't that I didn't have time… but I never made the time to tell Dad.
What was she supposed to say exactly when he started asking her very 'Dad' related questions about the man in her life? When she'd run from California, she was running away from any probing questions as well.
Peter did a double take. Well… He thought with amusement. Jen was never one for table manners. Or rather… not around him. She was messy mostly when she was hungry. She was angry usually by the time they were able to catch a bite anywhere. At least that's how she was back home. "Well…" Peter hesitated a moment as he found himself the focus of her stare again. "I'm not exactly the best person to talk about… You know… Doing the right thing at the right time." Not to mention saying, but physically doing the right thing. Had he acted all those years ago, his uncle Ben would have never died. Instead, he'd been foolish and lazy. The guilt would follow him the rest of his life.
"It's okay," Jen replied, resting a hand on his arm. "I'm glad I can talk to you at all." Her brows pinched together. "And I don't mean you… specifically. Anyone." Moving her hand, she stared forlornly at her shuttered windows. "It's so dangerous for me to do anything." She bit her bottom lip. "I have to be careful." Her eyes narrowed. "Things
weren't always like this… To think - I used to think I was some hot- shot attorney." She scoffed at herself. "And here I am, unable to even protect myself."
"Jen… You still can. Just because you're here - it changes nothing." He watched as she set the sub down, leaning back in her seat.
"Sure, Peter." She lightly scratched her stomach. "Except I can't become the same lean, green, fighting machine." It felt good to air out her thoughts… really good. "I've been hiding out since I moved to this hole in the wall." She peered up at him. "Ever had to go on the run somewhere… for a really long time and felt just-" She gesticulated with her hands as she spoke… searching for the right word to use. "Felt just trapped?"
Peter hesitated a moment before he moved to respond. "Once, yes," he nodded affirmatively, noting her surprise. "Was gone for almost half a year." He scratched his chin then. "Didn't have access to a razor." He stated with a half grin. "Or a mirror."
"Where'd you go?" she had certainly wondered about what made him decide on growing a beard. It never occurred to her that he hadn't a choice in the matter. She leaned forward in her seat, resting her elbows on the table… the sub temporarily forgotten.
"Dutch country."
She looked so lost, not recognizing the location right away.
His grin widened. "It was really nice out there. Let me tell you all about it." He settled in his seat and described the area he'd lived in.
If she was alarmed to find out he'd lived in the woods, she made no mention of it.
Everything about being out there had appealed to him, the wide- open space… the fresh air. He even enjoyed the animals he interacted with on the Knott family farm.
She asked, as he knew she would… why had he left? His heart felt heavy as he described that long night, going with Caleb took him to Jonas' store. He noted how strange it was that he'd found a newspaper from way over in New York discarded outside the shop… the gunshots. How he'd had to flee for his life. All that comradery Peter had thought he'd developed with the family… the friendship and ties built - all of it destroyed in one night. He explained how he had to stay under the radar, the youth hostel he stayed in and how they always had plenty of dinner rolls.
Jennifer had laughed over his recollections of how the various housemates acted. She was intrigued when he spoke of his confrontation with Octavius. Something was off in what Peter was telling her. Her eyes narrowed a little as she continued to listen. It sounded as if something more had happened during their fight. She never remembered Octavius ever being in a wheelchair… making her question just how closely tied their universes were. Peter had told her that he was from a closely parallel universe. She wondered where the differences lie. The outwardly obvious ones were there for her to see. This Peter Parker had a beard and full head of hair. Her Peter Parker had kept himself shaved bald, including his eyebrows.
"… And then I ended up in that Applebee's. I'm still stunned that more of my costume didn't burn off in the fire." Peter shook his head at that. "How was I supposed to know that thing would burst into flames?" The device he referred to was the burnt helmet that he still carried on him.
"I'm amazed you didn't die from that fall Pete," Jennifer remarked. "It's not like you've got any gamma green juice pumping through your veins."
Peter waved off the concern lightly. "I've survived worse." He remembered encountering her overgrown cousin on more than one painful occasion. "Considering, a fall from so high doesn't hurt nearly as much." Sitting up straight, he nodded to her sub. "Want me to put that away for tomorrow?" Breakfast probably. Jennifer was certainly not wasteful with food.
She hesitated, staring at the sub. Her eyes were filled with longing. She wanted nothing more than to finish the second half of the footlong. But… "Uhh… Yeah. It might be for the best." She covered her eyes, pushing it away from herself. Her expression was pained.
"You don't want it, Jen?" Peter reached over to wrap the food back up, but hesitated. "What's wrong?" Worriedly, he rubbed her shoulder. "Are you feeling sick?" Even as he asked, he was trying to figure out how to return the food to the sub shop and get a refund. He also wondered how he was going to get her to a hospital. Rising out of his seat, he was about to grab his jacket when he felt a tug on his shirt. His attention abruptly jumped back to Jennifer.
She was looking at him through spread fingers. "No… It's nothing. Don't worry about it, Peter."
Plunking back down into his chair, he turned in the seat and leaned forward. "So what is the matter?" He frowned, watching as Jennifer shook her head. "I can't do anything to help if you don't talk to me." Is this how it's always going to be? He wondered worriedly. He wasn't the best when it came to communication to begin with. What was he going to do if he had to struggle and strain to extract information out of her?
"Peter… It's not exactly something that you can help me with." She was still leaning back in her seat. "It's… sweet that you'd offer, but you can't fix this."
Peter offered a sunny smile and voiced a challenge. "Try me."
Staring at him for a long moment, Jennifer got out of her seat. "Okay… Fine." She walked into her bedroom, but only partially closed the door. Once she was inside, she stepped to the side of the bed and scooped her jeans off the floor… grunting a little from the effort. Oh… How I miss my old body already. She thought with a grimace. Scrunching her face up at the image in her bedroom mirror, she pulled off her sweatpants and tossed them on the bed. Holding up her favorite pair of jeans, she twitched a little. She could already feel the burn behind her eyes forming before she began shoving her legs into the tight denim.
At first, everything was fine and smooth sailing. The struggle began right when the material reached her backside. She was able to pull the jeans all the way up, but there was an issue with her zipper. Staring down at her hands - partially obscured by the material of the t-shirt - she grit her teeth and pulled… and promptly gave up at the resistance. She had already tried every trick she knew to get them zipped earlier - short of greasing herself up to slide into them. Looking behind herself a moment, she noticed that her backside had grown fuller.
That was nothing compared to her midsection. The firm protuberance rising from her pubic bone was not going to be shifting in any direction… any time soon. With a deep exhale, she turned towards her door.
Peter was getting antsy where he sat. At least she didn't scream at me this time. He also hadn't been slapped since the 'ice cream' incident, which was good. Her sudden silence had worried him. So far, he'd seen Angry Jen, Hungry Jen, the upgraded version Hangry Jen, Weepy Jen and Sick Jen. He slowly had begun categorizing different titles to her moods in his head so that he'd avoid problems. So far, it had worked. Now, there was Mysterious Jen… which was causing him to shift uneasily now. When Jennifer finally stepped out of her room, he tilted his head.
Hands in her pockets, she stepped half way down the hall. "How do I look?"
Uncertain where she was going with her questions, Peter answered carefully. "Fine Jen. You look nice."
She did a half turn, showing off more of her backside in the jeans. "Really?" She was flattered at his words, but wasn't sure how he'd respond to what she wanted to show him next.
This time, Peter nodded. She really did look beautiful. When he'd been teamed up with her in his universe, he never had time to comment much on Jennifer's figure - which was stunning. She was far more likely to knock him into next week if he said anything at all. "Yes." he smiled lightly then. Maybe she was just fishing for compliments? He sincerely hoped that was the case. Maybe jitters about returning to work. Regardless, her uniform at Applebee's wasn't extensively regimented.
"Yeah… There's only one problem." Pulling her hands out of her pockets, Jennifer adjusted her stance to hold on to the material between her legs. Her left hand grasped the material of the pocket itself. "This…" She pulled up the long t-shirt with her right hand to reveal that her jeans weren't buttoned or zipped up at all.
Peter's mouth dropped open. He wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to be looking at. He did note that she was wearing red low-riding panties, thankfully. "Uhh… Jen…?" His confusion continued to mount as her expression towards him turned hostile. No… he thought with dismay. Angry Jen again! Since he almost assigned entirely different personas to her moods, it enhanced the fear suddenly seeping in. What did I do?! I didn't do anything!
"Look at this!" she yelped, walking right up to him. "I can't zip them up!" Holding up the material of her shirt with her teeth, she freed both hands to show him that there was a three-inch gap where the fabric was refusing to meet. Instead, he saw the bare skin of her belly.
Peter's jaw worked a little, and he swallowed hard as Jennifer closed the distance, leaving only a foot between their bodies.
Dropping the material of the shirt from her mouth, Jennifer spoke. "What am I supposed to do?! I don't have any other jeans!" Bigger jeans… she thought with a hiss. She didn't have any bigger clothing at all. She never needed them.
Meanwhile, Peter was wracking his brain to come up with a quick response and finally settled on what he hoped was best. He lifted her shirt again and studied the surface under her hands. "How are you and Chip feeling today?" He gently moved her hands out of the way and stretched his larger hand across her lower abdomen. Oh yeah. He thought, with realization. The baby has definitely gotten bigger.
Explosive reaction stymied; Jennifer's hands rested over his. "We feel fat today," she retorted. Worrying her bottom lip, she wondered what he was thinking. "We feel very fat… I feel…" Jennifer inhaled deeply and exhaled, her shoulders sagging. "Becca wanted to go out today for coffees." Noting Peter's scandalized stare, she snorted. "I wasn't going to get coffee. Probably a cookie. They have the best chocolate cookies there."
Wisely, Peter remained silent. It was not the time to bring up her issues with sugar.
"And… I went to get dressed. But… m-my jeans didn't fit!" She sniffed then, rubbing at her eyes with her right hand. "And I told Becca to go on without me… I told her I wasn't feeling well," she hung her head. "I was too embarrassed to tell her that I'd gotten too fat to fit in my jeans."
"You're fourteen weeks, Jen." Peter responded. He rested his hands on her hips, pulling her over. "Chip is growing. Remember what the doctor said?"
Caught off guard at his actions, Jennifer didn't respond right away. "Fourteen officially tomorrow, Pete." She reminded him softly. Her eyes rolled a little as she repeated what the doctor had told them. "He said 'you need rest, fluids and food'."
Peter rested his head against her stomach, right under her breasts. "Yes. So why are you so upset?" He tried to reason. "It's not you Jen. The baby's just growing like it's supposed to." He wasn't going to mention that part of her recent growth could have been related to her eating. He remembered the doctor pointing out that she was malnourished. He knew her body was just going back to normal. Her voracious appetite had just ensured it all happened a lot sooner.
"I hear you, Pete. It's just… I've never had to deal with this before." Her voice cracked without her meaning to, and he stared up at her. Every time she saw Peter looking up at her like that, or from any angle, she was painfully reminded of what she'd lost. This man… She had to remind herself. He is not my Peter. It was hard to convince herself of it. Not when he looked up at her like that. "Don't worry," she chirped, still sounding wobbly. "I'm not upset."
"Well that's good, right?" Leaning back a bit, he began rubbing her belly in circles. "Upset mama means upset Chip." Upset Chip means I don't get any sleep. Though he'd noticed a change in Jennifer's digestive exploits. She seemed to hold down her meals a lot better as of late, barring any noxious smells - like raw fish or meat.
Jennifer snorted. "I can't believe you call the baby that." She rolled her eyes. She began to unconsciously run her fingers through his hair.
"It's nicer than Yogi." Peter retorted. He still wasn't sure of Jennifer's suggestion for nicknames. "Or Pooh."
Now, Jennifer looked offended. "But you named it after food!" She shook her head at that.
"Only cause you keep stealing the chocolate chips." She pouted. "But they taste so good… in everything."
Peter held back a sigh. He had hoped she was only adding them to yogurt, but slowly the chocolate treats were being introduced to everything. Even her sandwiches. "But how am I supposed to make you chocolate chip cookies?" He felt the fingers in his hair halt a moment.
"Honesty Peter…" Jennifer said after a moment, this time
intentionally resuming her actions. "Even if I'm not fat right now, I will be if I keep eating your cooking."
Peter wisely kept his mouth shut. He'd noticed that her jeans were beginning to slip, but again… said nothing.
Both of them remained like that, enjoying each other's company.
"So…" Peter began after several minutes had passed. "Still worried about the sub?" He glanced up at her. "I know you're still hungry, Jen." He heard her laughter.
"You're smooth." She didn't seem angry with him. "Has anyone ever told you that, Mr. Parker?" Before he could respond, her eyes widened as she felt a sudden cold breeze. Extracting her fingers from his hair, she grasped behind herself… rewarded with the loud smack of naked flesh.
Startled, Peter moved his hand away from her belly. Noting the frustration on her face, he lifted her shirt again and looked behind her. "… Should I even ask why you're in a thong?" Both of her hands had slapped against her own backside as she scrambled to grab her wayward jeans.
"No… you may not, webhead," she responded through gritted teeth. She was already blushing in embarrassment.
"Though I shouldn't be that surprised." He continued, as if he hadn't heard her. "In your old costumes, I always wondered what could fit under there."
"What makes you think there was ever anything else there, Spider?" Her voice had dropped an octave. Intense frustration was mingling with humiliation, and it was proving a potent combination. "Eight ball, corner pocket…" Her voice had deepened further.
Pulling back when she growled at him, Peter looked up. It looked like she was about to - "No Jen!"
Main Universe Location, Undisclosed
Work work work… It was all he ever found himself doing these days. Pale hands rubbed against the bare skin of his head. ECHO was currently seated at his console. As soon as he finished one commission, he was already delving through half of a newer one. His field had never been one that could be considered 'fast pace' in the least. However, it was lucrative depending on who the assignment came from. It was a brand-new branch of orthotics he was moving into.
Slowly, over the last year, ECHO had taken on more and more jobs that delved into the medical realm. He was a little frustrated today though. Or was it night? Pausing where he held a digital sketchpad… he lifted his head and searched for the clock. The oddest thing… He thought, flustered. Is that clock has been in the same spot… and I never remember where it is. When he needed the thing, he needed a few minutes to locate it. Finding it fastened to the wall, he squinted and read the time. Ah… Three in the afternoon. Noting the time, he shrugged and returned to the sketchpad.
"What I need…" He grumbled. "Is a bigger screen to work with." Sitting next to him on the console was a medical textbook, flipped open to a diagram of the human eye. "Maybe that'll be my next project." Grip tightening on his stylus, he leaned back and squinted at the image on the tablet. A faint beacon over his second console began to blink steadily, but he didn't notice it right away. He zoomed into the image, drawing in additional details that he would need when he moved to the construction phase.
Amazing organ, this is… He had assumed that he understood how eyes worked. After all, he'd built them before… but those were for androids. Robots saw differently than human beings. His new
construction had to be able to connect to the occipital lobe at the back of the brain. It was supposed to help compensate for the diseased nerves that connected the brain to the patient's real eyes. Where do I go after this? Ears maybe? The idea was intriguing. However, he questioned just how effective medical science would go as far as the natural limits everyone had.
After all, he was unable to cure himself of the medical ailments that he suffered through daily. He sunk deeper into work, blearily noticing the beacon late. Stiffening, he dropped his stylus and leapt to the second console. Hitting a series of commands into the screen, he waited until it connected. He heard the dial tone ringing… but no response. Growing frustrated, he grabbed the speaker, squeezing
the button on the side. "Ashley!" His voice bellowed down the line. "Pick up!"
Seeing that beacon was a bad sign… an indication that she was in trouble.
She'd never intentionally activated the beacon before. ECHO froze where he sat.
"HAE!"
Ashley's Apartment
Feeling 'off' wasn't normal for the bot, but the gynoid knew that something was wrong. That morning, she'd called out work, citing illness. She hadn't wanted to, but until she knew what was wrong, she needed to stay in her apartment. The last thing that she needed was to suffer a hardware failure on the job.
The first problem that cropped up seemed to be a minor error in her overnight charger. The solution was simple, unplugging the charging port from the wall and testing her backup port. Concentrating on the task was difficult, as her energy reserves were lower than they should have been.
Instead of charging, she'd been draining her own battery. At 8am, she was already struggling to focus long enough to even get the port into the wall. She hissed as a brief spark came from the wall and hit her fingers. Pain was something she'd been programmed to understand as a safety precaution, but right now that addition was proving an annoyance.
By 10AM, the gynoid was even more frustrated. The secondary backup port wasn't working either. Or was it her? Her gaze was unfocussed as she staggered out of her closet, nearly tripping over both of her feet. She felt unease, was uncoordinated in her movements. A faint whirring noise began to sound in her head, and she wasn't sure what she could do.
She had no way to call ECHO. As a rule, they had to keep radio silence. Since she normally hurried right to him when there was a problem, she should have had no problem. Unfortunately, she was running for nearly two days without a charge. "Bat. Batteries. Stupid batteries," she choked. Her body had undergone major enhancements, but she didn't have a big enough power source to keep all of it running for longer than a day. She needed some way to charge her batteries up, otherwise she'd never make it back to him.
Los Angeles, California GLK - 6:45AM
Teeth grit, Jennifer paused typing on her keyboard for a moment. Yawning, she stretched in her office chair. "I need to stop doing this," she grumbled aloud. Even though many of her coworkers would think otherwise from watching her - she was absolutely not a workaholic. She just happened to be a person who worked… a lot.
For inhumanly long hours.
All the time.
But sure, she could tell herself she wasn't married to her job.
Whatever helped her sleep at night. When she got around to sleeping.
Leaning back in her seat after the stretch, she stared at the screen in front of her. The lines of text were just a bit blurry now. Grimacing, she plucked off her wide-frame glasses, lightly rubbing at the skin between her brows. Resting her elbows on the desk, she propped her head up on her right hand, grasping the glasses by the bridge with her free hand. "This won't do," she murmured.
She'd be doing herself a favor by getting some sleep, but this was a very difficult case. It had already proven itself to be far more complicated than she expected. The early enthusiasm she'd felt at first was slowly turning into despair.
She was normally fatigued, but this was something else entirely.
In the past three weeks, she had asked herself if it was possible to hand over the case to someone else. At least five times now. Each time she chastised herself for wondering… but the question still lingered in her mind.
What stopped her, however, was pride. It didn't feel good to give up before truly beginning. She'd taken on cases with far less warning than this one. Throwing her hands up in surrender actually felt worse than losing in court.
No… the real drag on her was how long it was taking to get all of the necessary information together. Her division did not deal in normal conflicts with regular humans.
When first presented, the case was one of negligence-leading to a multi-car collision. Considering she normally dealt with superheroes, she could easily recall many of her clients that might have been implicated in it. One of them in fact, reveled in bars nearly as hard as he hit. She'd already had problems with him threatening his 'victims' while she was in the middle of conversing with them in the same room.
Property damages, potentially lasting impacts on local wildlife and the terrain.
Domestic disputes.
Assault.
The list simply went on and on with them.
Along with both physical and emotional pain and suffering.
Imagine her surprise then, to see the name on this particular file. Which was what led her to her current position… sitting in front of her computer and wondering how things could have gone so wrong. She had multiple pages now, different accounts from various witnesses as to what they saw. Or heard.
Some of these people, she knew, would be easily dismissed. It wasn't always easy to separate the honest from the dishonest… especially when money was involved. The local police department had offered a monetary incentive for whomever called in with details that led to a conviction.
Then again… some of the accounts were obviously embellished. Do these people think that the longer their recollection - the more funds they'll receive?
A yawn escaped her then and pushing back from her desk, she plopped her glasses back on her face and headed to the lounge for a much-needed caffeine hit.
Jen was distracted. So much so that she walked right past the receptionist's desk before she realized she was heading in the wrong direction. Spinning around, she headed to the lounge and set the coffee machine up for the morning's offering. She measured nothing correctly and was sure that what she ended up accidentally making might easily double as battery acid.
Or forbidden jelly. It didn't matter… it all tasted disgusting now.
Still, she was back in her office and working an hour later, when she knew she was supposed to be resting. Recently, she'd been diagnosed with exhaustion in the hospital and was ordered to take the time to rest. She had… for the first three days, then got called back in. A knock on her door drew her from the monotony of punching information in, and she looked up from her screen. As she stared at the closed door, she frowning lightly. Who was it today? "Yes?" she called, letting the person outside know she was free.
"Mister Rogers is here to speak with you, ma'am!" the receptionist cheerily replied.
Pulling a face momentarily, Jennifer lightly rolled her eyes. Of course, he would come there. Unannounced. Schooling her features, she called back. "Please, send him in, Safia!"
A few moments later, the door opened and a blond-haired man strolled in. He was wearing normal civilian clothes and offered a very bright grin.
Jennifer bit her tongue, watching him saunter into her office. She sincerely hoped that he had a legitimate reason today. "Mister Rogers, what can I do for you today?" She sincerely hoped that it would be quick.
"Well, I…" here, he paused. It felt strange to have a friend addressing him like that. They were… friends… weren't they? Sitting down in the lone chair near her desk, he nervously rubbed his
sweaty palms against his jean clad thighs. "I w-wanted to know if…"
Inclining her head towards him, both brows raised, Jennifer waited as her client awkwardly explained himself.
"If, ahh… That's to say…" Frowning, and looking at his legs still, he took a deep breath and lifted his head. "Any updates?"
Trying not to grind her teeth at his reticence, Jennifer lifted her travel mug in response, swallowing a big mouthful of coffee. "Are you referring to your case, Mister Rogers?"
He nodded quickly, Adams apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. "I am."
Looking pained, Jennifer felt her shoulders sag. "Mister Rogers, your particular case has proven to be more - problematic than I
expected."
He frowned. "I'm awful sorry about that, Jen."
Sighing audibly, she waved his apology away. "No, it makes sense, after all," A faint frown crossed her lips. "Not every day I get to work with someone like you," as she spoke, her voice sounded pensive. "Never thought I would see you across the desk from me," she noted, then paused a moment. Pursing her lips, she continued. "Especially not for something like this."
His eyes widened, features becoming downcast.
She swallowed down her personal feelings about the man. It was safer. "The best thing I can say to you right now - Mister Rogers?" Jen hesitated at his reaction.
He seemed to be staring into space.
Pushing back from her desk, she stepped around it and clapped a hand on his left shoulder. She felt him jerk in reaction. "Steve… go home,"
He looked up at her.
Up close, she could see the strain on his face. "Get some rest, get refreshed. Whatever it is you do to relax. We can talk about this at a
later time."
Nodding quietly, he rose from his seat. "Thanks, Jen," He offered a weak smile. "For all your help."
Quietly, she nodded, dropped her hand and stepped to the side. Taking the hint, Steve walked to the door.
"Oh, and Steve?" Jennifer spoke up after turning her back to him. Her eyes were narrowed as she stared out the window.
He froze at the door. "Yeah?" he asked, looking over his shoulder.
"Next time… make an appointment!" Folding her arms, she didn't acknowledge him then. The sound of the door closing told her he was gone. Slowly, she released a breath she was unaware of holding. "And as for me," she spoke quietly. A bit irritable now, she stepped over to her computer and turned it off. Collecting her suitcase and mug, she decided to call it a day.
Early.
As she breezed past the receptionist's desk, she didn't say a thing. Startled, Safia spoke up. "Miss Walters?!"
Still refusing to respond, Jennifer headed out the building. Evening
Jennifer's Apartment
Lying curled up on her couch in a fluffy housecoat and watching the tube, Jen found herself channel surfing… again. As usual, nothing really good seemed to be on. Maybe all of the best shows are on in the morning? She was beginning to question that. "Is that why lawyers always have to work in the morning?" she asked herself, rhetorically. "To keep us distracted from sinking into our favorite shows?"
A moment later, she snorted, grinning.
Of course, Jen knew how inaccurate that statement was. She had so much paperwork to review and documents to work on that morning. She was fine earlier… but being interrupted by Steve just derailed her plans for the day.
Or maybe she just didn't want to deal with seeing him at all considering how stressful her workload was. Inhaling slowly, she tried to force her muscles to relax.
Curiously, her vision began to blur again. "Mm," she grunted, rubbing her eyes. "Maybe I just need to get back in bed…" Rising off the couch, she took a step, alarmed when the world around her began to tilt. Her vision began to darken.
She was unconscious before she hit the floor. Parallel Worlds - Parallel Lives (Alternate Universe) 5:30 AM - Jennifer's Apartment
"There's no need to fuss over everything." Jennifer whined as she watched Peter jumping around the kitchen. She struggled to stifle a yawn, rubbing her eyes with her palms. It was simply a crime against humanity to get up so early in the morning.
"I'm not!" Peter immediately replied, feeling defensive. "But you need snacks to hold you until lunch."
Dark brows shot up at that. "That's not lunch?" Jennifer queried. Her hands moved to rest on her hips as she surveyed the lunch bag Peter was stuffing. Stepping closer, she peeked inside. "Pete, I'm not going to be able to eat all of that."
Peter nodded faintly. "I know. I just want you to have some options. I'll be by for lunch. What time to you do normally go?"
"Around eleven when I have an early shift like this." The exchange would have been normal for many couples; however, nothing was normal about either of them.
The young hero nodded, memorizing the information. "We have breakfast sandwiches today." He revealed, pulling the two containers out of the fridge. He couldn't suppress a grin at Jennifer's incredulous stare. "What?"
"When…" She pinched the bridge of her nose. Jennifer hadn't seen those the night before. "When did you have time to make them?"
Peter turned to microwave the containers and lightly shrugged his shoulders. "I got up a bit earlier. Was a little hard to sleep last night." He found himself suddenly serving as a giant body pillow. She also moved around more than he had expected her to. Last night, he hadn't wanted to retreat to the floor and was determined to endure.
"I'm sorry." She was getting up two or three times at night for bathroom runs. Now that they were sharing a bed, she knew it was likely jarring for both of them. "I didn't know it was waking you up like that." Deep inside, she feared that had been the case. He hadn't been in her apartment two weeks, and she was somehow making his stay even more distressing.
Peter cleared his throat. "It's fine, Jen." Nothing good would come of it if he brought up their new arrangement. It had been difficult for her to ask him to even share the bed with her. Though, the move had been more for her own sense of comfort, his back had appreciated the break. So… what was as loss of a few hours of sleep between friends? The microwave beeped, and Peter popped the door open. "Breakfast is served." He handed Jen her container and both of them moved to the table to eat.
"I'll try to drink less at night," she piped up in a soft voice. "That way I don't get up as much." Even as she spoke, she was beginning to lick her lips.
Peter gave her a hard stare and shook his head. "No. You drink as much as you need. Both of you need the fluids." Getting up from his seat, he grabbed two bottles of water for them and sat down across from her. "Okay?" He offered the bottle to her, exhaling silently as she accepted the drink.
Peter hoped that these new insecurities weren't going to be commonplace with her now. When she first asked to share a bed, he had felt… exposed. He wasn't sure why, but something about this universe's Jen made him feel differently than the normally assured attorney he had worked with for so long. Jen never would have wanted me near her.
"F… Fine." Jennifer took the bottle and looked away. She ate her sandwich slowly. She didn't like this. She didn't want him uncomfortable either, but she was always thirsty. And she knew the baby was only going to put more pressure on her bladder as it grew.
As Peter silently watched, his friend's face was gradually growing red. Not wanting to make her more upset, he didn't bring attention to what he was seeing. Picking up his container, he stood. "I need to check the mirror and make sure that everything is neat for work. I'll be a few minutes."
Nothing was wrong with his dress, but he was giving Jennifer room to breathe. Though not voicing it, she was grateful for the reprieve. Shoulders shaking a little, Jen inhaled deeply and began eating at a more normal pace. It wouldn't help her if she went into work hungry. It was already going to be early when they arrived at her job.
Outside Jennifer's Apartment
Less than a half hour later the couple were leaving the apartment. Peter stepped out last and turned, locking the door before they left the building. His hand rested in the middle of her back as they walked. As they walked up the block to catch the bus, Jennifer was clutching her lunch bag and mumbling under her breath.
Peter ducked his head down and said something that made her laugh out loud.
Neither of them noticed the shadowy figure that stepped from the bushes next to the stairs to their apartment. Clad in a heavy, brown trench coat and wide brimmed hat… no distinguishable features could be easily seen - save the eyes.
Brown eyes focused on the couple as they put further distance between themselves and their observer.
To Be Continued…
Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I hope you're ready and amped for the next chapter! Cause I am… I'm totally prepared and know what will happen. I am a terrible liar… Sorry! Time to get back to the drawing board.
On A Personal Note: So… funny story. I was supposed to be back October 16th, last month. That didn't happen, but a lot of things have happened since my hiatus. I'm getting better sleep, or trying to. Trying to return to an exercise schedule.
I'm disappointed and frustrated. Had I maintained my posting schedule after returning (on time), I'd be up to chapter 9 instead of just chapter 6. One problem early on was getting the motivation to resume writing after the first week on hiatus. The very next day after I went on hiatus, I felt almost palpable relief.
Then, additional health issues reared their ugly heads.
Then I just… forgot the plot of my writing. Two weeks ago, I was struggling to get back into the stride of writing for this fiction. Normally, I'd leave myself notes for completing a chapter, but I hadn't this time… Assured that I would easily remember.
Nope. That's not how it works. Sorry if the next chapter seems a bit disjointed. I'm having to reread this fiction to remember where I was. Normally, that would be fine, except the previous five chapters combined are over 120 pages.
I'm going to attempt to squeeze out the next chapter of "Open Arms" for Saturday. We'll see how it goes. Thankfully those chapters are smaller than this one.
I love you all! Thank you so much for your patience! XXO ~J. Lyst
Additional Note: This chapter has been updated and revised from a previous version on February 5, 2023.
Reason: Typos, missing words, error correction. Probably missed some of it still. Also, I have some chapter add-ons and overhauls. Yes, stuff has been pulled out and stuff's been SHOVED in!
Additional Note To The Prior Notes: Once again, a last running edit… I hope. I don't plan to do this again. Date is December 10, 2023.