Author's Note: Hello there, readers! I hope you're doing well. I'm back with another Spider-Man story, and this time, the main ship is with the one and only White Queen, Emma Frost. I've been wanting to make this story for a long time, but I never knew what the plot would be until now. I'm taking inspiration from the comics and many other things, but overall, this is my own created universe. With that being said, let's begin.
Diamond In The Sky
Intro Music: X-Men TAS 1992 Theme Song
Chapter 1: Matchmaker
The X-Mansion
BGM: X-Men TAS Theme - Chill Remix
The late afternoon sun filtered through the tall windows of the X-Mansion, casting elongated shadows across the polished floor of the East Wing. Within the quietude of her office, Emma Frost sat with perfect poise behind a mahogany desk, her white suit pristine as ever, as her blue eyes scanned over a stack of essays with the precision of a laser. Red ink flowed freely, striking through grammatical mishaps and passive voice like it was her personal vendetta.
She had never imagined herself here—teaching—of all things. There was a time when she would've scoffed at the idea. But here she was, years into her tenure as the Institute's English teacher, both revered and feared by her students in equal measure. In her own way, she'd found a place among the X-Men. It had taken time, trust, and no small amount of biting sarcasm, but somehow... they'd become her family. A dysfunctional, maddening, wonderful family.
Still, she liked her quiet moments. Order. Control. Grading papers gave her that.
A soft knock echoed on the doorframe. Emma didn't look up immediately—she never rewarded hesitation—but eventually lifted her eyes. Standing there, casual as always, was Jean Grey, her red hair pulled into a loose braid, her green eyes dancing with amusement.
"Don't you ever get tired of being predictable?" Jean asked with a smile.
Emma arched a brow. "Do you come here just to loiter in doorways or is there a point?"
Jean chuckled and stepped inside, arms crossed. "Some of us are heading out for a little while. A few drinks, maybe some bad karaoke. You should come."
Emma returned her attention to a particularly disastrous paragraph. "I'm busy."
Jean didn't budge. "That's what you always say."
"Because it's always true." Emma retorted.
Jean tilted her head, her tone softening. "It's okay to take a break once in a while. You know that, right?"
"I don't need a break," Emma said, still not looking up.
There was a pause. Jean sighed, but it wasn't one of defeat—more like the gentle exhale of someone trying to coax a stubborn cat off a high shelf. "Suit yourself."
She turned to leave, her footsteps light. But halfway out, something occurred to her. She pivoted, leaning back against the doorframe.
"Ya know, I wonder," Jean mused, tapping her chin, "if you'd be any different if you had a boyfriend."
Emma didn't miss a beat. "Please. I don't need a boyfriend."
Jean smirked. "No? Retired from relationship drama, have we?"
Emma finally looked up, eyes sharp and amused. "Yes. The day I stopped caring about Scott's indecisiveness was the day I found true inner peace."
Jean chuckled at that, a rare moment of mutual understanding between them. "Fair. But just… don't let the past keep writing your future. I think if you ever did open yourself up again, you'd have a line of men out the door."
That made Emma pause. Her pen hovered mid-air before she set it down and met Jean's gaze with a smirk. "Oh, please. Of course there'd be a line. I'd just rather not waste time sorting through them."
Jean gave a playful shrug. "All it takes is the right one. Someone who can keep you grounded."
Emma rolled her eyes with such elegant flair it could've been choreographed. "Well, when you stumble across the man capable of accomplishing that miracle, do let me know. I'll alert the Vatican."
Jean's grin widened just a touch. "Oh, I will."
She turned and left with a lightness in her step, already scheming. Names and faces flickered through her mind as she walked down the hallway. Most she dismissed instantly—too immature, too vain, too... fragile. But then, like a whispered telepathic epiphany, a name came to her.
And she smiled.
Back in the office, Emma leaned back in her chair and muttered to herself, "God, I hope she doesn't get any ideas."
But knowing Jean?
She definitely would.
New York City
BGM: Warbly Jets - Alive
Across the skyline of New York City, Spider-Man zipped through the golden haze of sunset, the wind whipping around him as he deftly navigated between buildings. In one hand, he held tight to a web-line, and in the other—a few paper bags filled with groceries, all of which were threatening to tip over with each swing.
"Okay," Peter muttered to himself, "milk, eggs, bread, frozen peas… did she say peanut butter or almond butter?"
His brow furrowed behind the mask. "Please let it be peanut. I am not going back to Trader Joe's on a Saturday."
Just then, the familiar buzz of his phone sounded in his suit. He swung to a nearby rooftop and landed with a soft thud, setting the groceries down carefully. He dug into one of the compartments in his suit and pulled out his phone, already expecting Aunt May's contact photo to pop up.
But it wasn't her.
"Huh?" Peter tilted his head. "Jean?"
Now that was unexpected.
He tapped to answer the call. "Hey Jean, uh… everything okay?"
"Hi, Peter," Jean's warm voice came through the line. "I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time."
Peter chuckled lightly. "Well, I'm in the middle of trying to get groceries back to Aunt May before the ice cream melts, but for you? I've got time."
Jean let out a quiet laugh. "Good to know."
There was a pause on her end. Then she asked, "Peter, are you… single?"
Peter blinked behind the mask. "Whoa. Uh. That's a twist."
He paused, processing the question. "Yes… I'm single, but… wait. Is everything okay with you and Scott?"
Jean laughed, soft and sincere. "Everything's fine with me and Scott. This isn't about me."
Peter narrowed his eyes, suddenly even more curious. "Then… what's going on?"
"Well," Jean said, stretching the word, "I'm sort of playing matchmaker at the moment. And I wanted to know if you'd be willing to go on a date."
Peter raised an eyebrow and laughed nervously. "A date? Like, an actual one? With a real person? Not one of your Danger Room projections or anything?"
"An actual date, Peter." assured Jean.
He scratched the back of his head and shifted his weight. "Okay… um, who's the lucky girl?"
Jean went quiet for a moment before saying, "Emma."
The rooftop suddenly felt ten degrees warmer.
"Emma?" Peter repeated, voice climbing in pitch. "Emma Frost?"
"That's the one." Jean confirmed.
Peter gave a small laugh, stunned. "Jean… I don't think I'm really her type. I mean, I'm more of the awkward, science-geek, cereal-for-dinner type, and Emma's… you know… intimidatingly gorgeous, terrifyingly smart, walks-into-a-room-and-silences-it type."
"That's nonsense," Jean said firmly. "You're a good guy, Peter. And don't let her exterior fool you. There's more to Emma than she lets people see. I think you two might surprise each other."
Peter paused, taking in Jean's words. "Okay, but… does she even know about this?"
Jean's smile was audible through the phone. "Not yet."
Peter blinked, and proceeded to exclaim, "Not yet?!"
"She will," Jean said sweetly. "Right now, I just need to know if you're in."
Peter hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck again. His mind was a swirl of questions, doubts, and the ghost of a grin. But… he would eventually give his answer.
"I mean… yeah. If she wants to go on a date with me, then… yeah, I'd go." Peter stated.
"Perfect," Jean replied, clearly satisfied. "Don't worry about a thing. I've got it all under control."
Peter, however, still had more questions. "Jean, wait, how exactly are you-"
"You'll show up at the X-Mansion tomorrow at seven. See you then!"
Before Peter could even respond to Jean's comment, the line went dead.
Peter stood there for a moment, the phone still pressed to his ear as he processed everything in silence for a moment.
"…Well," he muttered, staring into the skyline, "that was a thing."
He looked down at the bags at his feet. "Better not forget the peanut butter now."
With a resigned sigh, he picked up the groceries again and shot a web into the air.
As he soared back into the city's rhythm, he couldn't help but wonder: What would a date with Emma Frost even look like? And what the heck do you wear for something like that?
From the looks of it, he'll get his answers tomorrow.
The X-Mansion
BGM: Kingdom Hearts II - Lazy Afternoons
Morning sunlight poured into the X-Mansion's spacious kitchen, casting soft golden rays across the white marble countertops. Emma stood alone, coffee cup in hand, dressed in a silk robe that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent. She leaned against the counter, savoring the silence, the warmth of the mug, and the brief illusion that she might be left alone to enjoy both.
"Emma!"
The voice came from the hallway.
Emma sighed dramatically into her coffee before the cup even left her lips. "Of course," she muttered.
Jean stepped into the kitchen, barefoot and far too chipper for this hour. Emma didn't look up immediately. She didn't have to. She already knew exactly who it was. Instead, she took another sip of her drink with the air of someone preparing for psychological warfare.
"Tell me," Emma said dryly, still staring into her coffee, "are you determined to interrupt every one of my rare moments of peace, or is this a special occasion?"
Jean waved off the comment like she was swatting at a fly. "Oh, this interruption is for a very good reason."
Emma raised an eyebrow but didn't speak. The silence between them stretched just long enough for Jean to pick up on the unspoken cue: Get to the point.
With a sly smile forming, Jean leaned against the opposite counter. "I got you a date tonight."
The reaction was instant. Emma closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, remembering her previous conversation with Jean. "You do realize that I wasn't serious about you finding me a man, correct?"
Jean placed a hand over her chest, feigning shock. "You weren't serious? I had no idea."
Emma exhaled slowly, deliberately. She reopened her eyes and finally looked at Jean. There was irritation there, sure, but just beneath it, buried under layers of ice and sass, was a flicker of genuine curiosity.
"Fine," Emma said, taking a slow sip of her coffee. "Let's get this over with. Who, exactly, have you thrown me to?"
Jean grinned, clearly enjoying the buildup far too much. She paused, dramatic as ever, before finally saying, "Peter Parker."
Emma blinked.
Once.
Twice.
A third time.
"Peter Parker?" she repeated, like the words physically did not compute.
"Yep," Jean said cheerfully, grabbing a banana off the counter like this was the most casual matchmaking ever.
Of all the names Jean could've thrown at Emma, that one hadn't even made the list.
"Spider-Man?" Emma asked, like she needed even more clarification.
Jean chuckled, looking far too pleased with herself as she enjoyed The White Queen's reaction. "Yes, Emma."
Emma didn't respond immediately. She stared down into her coffee, now being deep in thought. On the surface, she and Peter couldn't have been more different.
And yet…
She remembered the one time she'd peeked into his mind sometime ago. What she saw there stayed with her. Pain wrapped in layers of humor. Loss masked behind responsibility. But most of all, a soul so painfully pure that it made her feel something she wasn't used to feeling.
Hope.
But, ya know, nobody will ever catch her actually admitting that.
Her silence stretched a beat too long, and Jean tilted her head. "Emma?"
Coming back to reality, Emma finally looked up. "What time is he supposed to be here?"
Jean smiled. "Seven. But don't be surprised if he's late. Peter has a… reputation."
Emma smirked at that. "If he is, I'll be sure to make it very clear that such behavior is unacceptable."
Jean laughed, clearly delighted. "So that means you're actually going?"
Emma gave a slow shrug, her expression deceptively casual. "Why not? I've gone on dates with worse men."
That was putting it very mildly.
Jean clapped her hands together in triumph. "Look at me—matchmaker extraordinaire."
Emma rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips curled just slightly. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Cupid. This isn't a fairy tale."
"No," Jean said, her voice playful but warm. "But it could be the beginning of something… interesting."
Emma didn't respond to that. She simply took another sip of her coffee and allowed herself to wonder, just for a moment, what kind of night Peter Parker might bring.
Hours Later…
The antique grandfather clock in the X-Mansion's hallway let out a low tick as the minute hand clicked past 7:20. Emma stood near the grand foyer with her arms crossed and her heels tapping against the polished hardwood floor like a slow metronome of disapproval. Her expression, poised and sharp, was enough to make even the bravest of X-Men think twice before approaching her.
Jean, leaning casually against the wall nearby, broke the tension with a slight smirk. "I did warn you. Peter's made 'fashionably late' into a lifestyle."
Emma cut her eyes over to her redheaded friend, her tone dry as ever. "He'd better have a good reason. Because right now, he's wasting my time."
Jean raised both brows and opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, the doorbell rang with a chime that echoed through the halls.
Emma didn't say anything. She simply turned on her heel and walked to the front door, her stride smooth and deliberate. She pulled it open…
And froze.
BGM: Spider-Man 2002 OST - Backyard Connection
There stood Peter in his full Spider-Man gear. Only this time, the suit wasn't in its usual form-fitting, crime-fighting perfection. It was singed at the edges, torn across one shoulder, and blackened around the torso. He smelled unmistakably of smoke. Embers and ash clung to him like reluctant passengers.
Emma blinked, eyes narrowing slightly as she took in the sight. She had opened the door ready to scold him into the ground for his tardiness, but now?
She tilted her head ever so slightly and asked in a calm, measured tone, "What happened?"
Peter scratched the back of his head, clearly sheepish. "So… there was this fire. Apartment complex in Hell's Kitchen. A bunch of people were still inside. I couldn't just, ya know, not help. And then there were these arsonist guys with flamethrowers, which felt a bit on the nose. Anyway, long story short: burning building, bad guys, and… I'm here now."
His voice trailed off into a quiet, sincere breath. "I'm really sorry I'm late, Emma. It wasn't supposed to be like this."
Emma stared at him, lips parted as if ready to say something harsh, but she didn't. Not this time.
Instead, her shoulders relaxed, and her tone softened. "It's fine."
Peter blinked, clearly surprised. "It is?"
Emma gave a slow nod, eyeing his burnt suit again. "Yes. Because even I'm not cold enough to scold a man for saving lives." Her voice was smooth as silk, but there was the faintest glimmer of warmth behind her eyes. "Are you alright?"
Peter, still stunned by the lack of verbal lashing, gave a small smile. "Yeah. A little crispy, but nothing serious."
Emma nodded once. Then a beat passed—just long enough for it to feel like the calm after a storm.
Trying to break the silence, Peter cleared his throat. "So… uh, is there anywhere you want to go for this date?"
Emma arched a brow and gave him a once-over. "Going out in public isn't exactly an option. You'd look ridiculous walking around in a half-burned costume."
Peter opened his mouth to counter, but paused as he caught a whiff of himself. "Okay, fair. I do look and smell like a fire pit."
Emma smirked. "Which is also unacceptable. I refuse to spend the evening with someone who smells like smoke."
Peter chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck again. "Right. Got it. Smell nice, wear clothes. Easy checklist."
Emma turned on her heel and gestured behind her. "Come in. We'll see if Logan has something you can wear once you're out of the shower."
"Logan?" Peter asked with a grimace, stepping inside. "Is… is that safe?"
Emma didn't look back, but the smirk on her face widened. "Not particularly. But I'm sure you can handle it. Just don't touch anything labeled 'private.' He's very territorial."
Peter nodded like a soldier accepting a dangerous mission. "Duly noted. I'll be quick."
He started jogging down the hall, but took a wrong turn at the first intersection.
Emma raised her voice slightly, not bothering to chase him. "Wrong way, Peter."
Peter skidded to a stop, laughed nervously, and spun on his heel. "I knew that. Just… testing your spatial awareness."
Emma crossed her arms again, still watching him with a faint look of amusement. "You're off to a terrible start."
Peter grinned as he dashed in the correct direction. "Good thing I'm good at recoveries."
She shook her head slightly but made no effort to hide the small, entertained smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
This date was already a mess.
But maybe, just maybe, it would be a fun mess.
Moments Later…
After what felt like an eternity under the spray of hot water, Peter finally stepped out of the shower. He wrapped a towel around his waist, taking in a deep breath and letting the clean scent of soap fill his lungs. It was a relief. He'd successfully scrubbed away the smell of smoke from his impromptu rescue operation, which was definitely an improvement.
He looked himself over in the bathroom mirror and sniffed his towel-clad body. "Ah, much better. No more smoke. Just… me."
He let out a satisfied sigh, turning his attention to the next task at hand: clothes. He glanced over at the clock. Seven-thirty. Emma would be expecting him soon, and while he felt much better, he still had a major wardrobe problem. He remembered Emma mentioning Logan's clothes. His mind flickered uneasily at the idea—Logan's clothes?
He paused for a moment, thinking about the Wolverine himself: the gruff, intimidating man with a temper as volatile as his claws. But then Peter shrugged, dismissing his nerves. What was the worst that could happen? Logan might yell at him. He could handle that, right?
Peter nodded to himself, firming his resolve. "Right. Let's do this."
He padded down the hallway, still wrapped in his towel, and knocked on Logan's door. "Uh, hey, Logan? You in there, buddy? I… need to borrow some clothes. I'll bring them back, promise."
No answer.
Peter stood there for a moment, pondering the situation. Logan's absence meant he could sneak in, grab something quickly, and get out before Wolverine came back. He felt a small sense of victory, as if the universe had given him a gift of timing.
Slowly, he turned the doorknob and eased the door open. To his relief, the room was empty. Logan's scent lingered in the air—smoky, like leather and old wood—but no Logan in sight. Peter stepped inside, silently congratulating himself on his boldness, and began to rummage through Logan's drawers.
Everything seemed to be going smoothly. He found a flannel shirt, a pair of jeans, and even some boots that he figured would fit him. He was just about to grab a jacket when-
SNIKT!
BGM: John Travolta & Olivia Newton John - You're The One That I Want
The unmistakable sound of claws being unsheathed hit the air, and Peter's Spider-Sense went haywire. His entire body froze, and his eyes widened. He spun around just in time to see Logan standing in the doorway, his claws fully extended, a low growl rumbling from his chest.
"Uh…" Peter raised a hand in an awkward wave, the other quickly clutching his towel. "Heyyy, Logan. Looking sharp. Real sharp."
Logan's expression twisted into something feral. He bared his teeth, his eyes narrowing into slits.
"YOU'RE DEAD, BUB!"
And then came the yell. A full, feral ROAR, as Logan lunged.
Peter's heart skipped a beat, and his instincts kicked in. He dove to the side, rolling across the floor to avoid Logan's claws by a hair's breadth. The whole scene was like a slow-motion action movie, only with the ridiculousness of Peter trying to keep his towel wrapped around him.
"Wait, wait, Logan! I can explain!" Peter yelped, his voice a mixture of confusion and desperation as he scrambled to his feet. He bolted out the door, his towel flying behind him like a battle-worn cape as he sprinted for dear life.
"YOU TOUCHED MY DRAWERS!" Logan exclaimed, his heavy footsteps right behind Peter as he slashed at him.
"IT WAS FOR LOVE!" Peter shouted back, barely avoiding a claw swipe aimed at the towel's knot.
Down the halls of the X-Mansion they went—one very shirtless Spider-Man fleeing a very enraged Canadian berserker.
By the time they burst into the lounge area, it had become a full-blown spectacle.
Storm looked up from her tea. "Is that…?"
"Yep," Cyclops said through a laugh, watching Peter skitter across the floor like a cartoon character. "He must've tried to borrow some of Logan's clothes."
Gambit leaned back in his chair, tossing popcorn into his mouth as if he were watching a movie. "Ten bucks says Logan doesn't catch him before he makes it to the Danger Room."
Rogue smirked, turning to Gambit while saying, "Raise it to twenty bucks, sugah."
Jean leaned forward on the couch with an amused smirk. "Peter's faster than he looks when he's in panic mode."
And Emma, seated elegantly on her chair, had an expression that was as cool as ever, but the corner of her mouth quirked up in amusement as she watched the chaos unfold before her.
Sometime Later…
Peter, now dressed in Logan's clothes, stood next to Emma, both of them now being outside the X-Mansion. He'd managed to escape Logan's wrath (for now), and he was grateful for that, but there was something about the situation that made him feel a little... out of his element. Maybe it was the way the clothes felt on him. Too big, a little rugged, or maybe it was the fact that his date was with Emma Frost.
"You know," Emma smirked, breaking him from his thoughts. "Watching you run from Logan like that was quite amusing."
Peter shot her a playful look, his voice half-serious and half-teasing. "It was terrifying. I don't know if you saw the claws, but yeah, I was definitely scared for my life."
Emma tilted her head slightly, her smirk never faltering. "You don't have to be terrified of Logan for the time being. But you'll have to be terrified of me tonight."
Peter let out a nervous laugh, but managed to recover quickly. "Oh, I'll manage. I've faced worse—usually in the form of giant robots or aliens. You, on the other hand... well, we'll see." His tone was light, but his eyes held a hint of curiosity.
Emma's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, amusement still dancing in them. "I hope you can keep up, Parker." she told him, pausing for a moment. "So," she asked, breaking their playful banter, "have you figured out where we're going?"
Peter nodded, watching Emma carefully. "I was hoping you'd have a plan, because if I'm being honest, I'm just along for the ride."
A small but genuine smile appeared on Emma's lips as she gave a short nod. "There's an exquisite restaurant in the city. They serve the best pasta you'll ever taste."
Peter nodded enthusiastically, but his mind was already racing with potential costs. He'd heard of places like that. The kind of restaurant that made your wallet feel like it was dying slowly. He tried not to let the thought show on his face, but he couldn't help the slight nervous flutter in his stomach. From what he knew about Emma, she had... expensive taste. He could practically hear the ka-ching of his bank account draining.
But he didn't want to look like a downer. Instead, he gave her a warm smile. "Sounds amazing. I'm looking forward to it."
Emma's smile widened just a fraction, and she nodded toward the garage. "Then follow me."
BGM: Sol Seppy - Nice Car
Peter nodded and walked with her to the garage, where she tapped her key fob. The garage door began to slowly rise, revealing a car that made Peter's jaw drop.
He blinked rapidly, momentarily losing his composure. "Wait, wait, wait. You have a Countach?"
The pristine white Lamborghini Countach LPI 800-4 gleamed under the garage lights, its sleek, aerodynamic body an absolute work of art. Peter had seen his fair share of fancy cars, but this? This was something else entirely. The car, or rather supercar, practically screamed luxury.
Emma's grin widened as she approached the car. "That's right. I'm a woman with impeccable style."
Peter stood rooted to the spot for a moment, eyes glued to the car as if it were some kind of exotic creature. Emma, unfazed, walked up to the driver's side and smoothly opened one of the scissor doors. She slid into the driver's seat, the door closing behind her with a soft, metallic thunk.
Peter took a second to collect himself before cautiously approaching the other side. He opened the door and climbed in, trying not to act too impressed, though it was hard not to be. He gazed around the immaculate interior, the leather seats, the dashboard, the gleaming console. It was like sitting in a luxury spaceship.
Once inside, he closed the door and looked over at Emma, shaking his head. "I've never felt more broke in my life."
Emma smirked as she started up the engine. It roared to life, the low rumble vibrating through the seat beneath them. "That's how people usually feel when they're around me."
Peter let out a small laugh, but then raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, I think I've figured that out." He then fastened his seatbelt and, as he did, muttered under his breath, "Don't crash, don't crash, don't crash…"
Emma caught his muttering and almost let out a chuckle, but she quickly regained her composure. "Buckle up, darling," she said, her voice taking on a slightly more serious tone as she shifted the car into gear. "It's going to be a wild ride."
Peter playfully saluted her. "Yes, ma'am."
With a slight smirk, Emma backed out of the garage, her driving skills as smooth and precise as one would expect from someone who owned a Lamborghini. The mansion slowly shrank in the rearview mirror as they pulled out onto the road, heading toward the city, where an evening of pasta and potential disaster awaited.
The Restaurant
BGM: Ratatouille - Main Theme
The restaurant glowed with a warm, golden ambiance—polished floors, chandeliers like crystal galaxies hanging overhead, and waiters that looked like they could've moonlighted as fashion models. Peter and Emma had just arrived, stepping out of the Countach like some glam couple from a James Bond movie. But while Emma carried herself with the elegance and confidence of royalty, Peter felt like the scrappy underdog who snuck into the royal ball.
He tried to brush off the thought. This was about spending time with Emma, not counting how many zeroes were on the menu.
The host guided them to a private table near the tall glass windows overlooking the city skyline. As they arrived, Peter quickly stepped around Emma and pulled out her chair for her, flashing a soft smile. Emma paused for a moment, genuinely surprised, and returned the smile with a small but appreciative nod. "Why thank you, Mr. Parker."
"No problem," Peter said smoothly, taking his own seat. Then, with a playful glint in his eye, he added, "Chivalry isn't dead, ya know."
Emma rolled her eyes, but her lips quirked upward. "How lucky I am that you're out here single-handedly keeping it alive."
Peter chuckled at that, flipping open the menu… and instantly regretted it.
His pupils practically dilated as he scanned the prices. He blinked. Blinked again. Blinked some more. Thirty-four dollars for breadsticks? He was pretty sure he felt his soul briefly leave his body. This was highway robbery, except it was actually legal.
Good ol' inflation.
Emma, on the other hand, glanced casually at her menu with the ease of someone browsing a catalog of familiar options. "Hmm... I'm thinking of the Champagne Shrimp and Pasta," she said aloud, more to herself than to Peter.
Peter's eyes flicked to the item. One hundred dollars. One hundred dollars.
He knew he was cooked.
Peter tried to keep his face from twitching. "Sounds... fancy," he said, swallowing the rising dread as he felt like he was going through an existential crisis.
Emma glanced at him. "What about you? Know what you're getting?"
Peter cleared his throat, buying time. "Still deciding... I mean, it all looks good, right? You can't go wrong."
She didn't seem to notice his inner panic. Thank God.
They hadn't even discussed who was paying. And Peter didn't want to bring it up now—it would kill the mood. Besides, he'd made up his mind: if someone's eating tonight, it's Emma. Pride might be a stubborn thing, but he wasn't about to let her foot the bill. Even if it meant a date with a tall glass of water and empty calories.
Just as he began calculating whether he had enough change in his pocket for an emergency granola bar, the waiter appeared.
"Are we ready to order?" he asked with a professional smile.
Emma, ever confident, nodded. "Yes. I'll have the Champagne Shrimp and Pasta. And a glass of white wine."
The waiter jotted it down, then looked at Peter.
Peter tried to smile like someone who wasn't currently facing the financial equivalent of a boss fight. "Uh, I'll just have some water for now. Still narrowing down my options."
The waiter nodded politely and stepped away.
Peter let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He would clear his throat, not wanting to think about his meal problems for tonight, and instead, shifted his attention to Emma. "Ahem. So, uh… how are things going at the X-Mansion?" he asked.
Emma turned back to him. "Surprisingly well," she replied. "I never imagined I'd end up there, especially as a teacher. But… I enjoy it. Teaching the younger mutants, guiding them. It feels... impactful. Like I'm finally doing something that matters."
Peter nodded slowly. "That's good to hear. It's not always easy, but it sounds like it suits you."
Emma nodded in return. "And you?" she asked, her tone softer now. "How's Peter Parker these days?"
He gave a small shrug. "Good, mostly. You know, the usual—balancing life, work, the occasional rooftop chase or interdimensional threat. Nothing too out of the ordinary. Just doing my best to take care of people."
Emma's gaze stayed on him for a moment longer than expected. "I hope you remember to take care of yourself, too."
Peter smiled, trying to brush it off. "I appreciate the concern, but I'm good. Really."
Emma raised a perfectly shaped brow. "Peter, I've read your mind before. I know what you carry. If anyone should be making more of an effort to care for themselves, it's you."
That caught him off guard. His expression softened, and for a moment, the lightness between them turned into something real. Something tangible. "Didn't know you cared that much," he said quietly.
Emma leaned back slightly, her voice gentler than usual. "Anyone in their right mind would care if they saw what I saw."
Peter blinked, his throat suddenly dry. Her words weren't just sympathy—they were understanding. He wasn't sure what to say, but he smiled. A small, grateful smile that came from somewhere deep.
Emma saw it and smiled in return—something genuine, without its usual layer of frost.
Just then, their waiter returned, placing the plate of Champagne Shrimp and Pasta in front of Emma, along with her white wine. He handed Peter his water.
Then he turned to Peter. "Have you decided, sir?"
Peter hesitated. He tried to remain composed on the outside, but he was dying in the inside. "Not yet, but I'll let you know when I choose something." Peter replied, and the waiter would give a curt nod before leaving.
However, Emma's eyes now locked onto Peter like a hawk, sensing something was wrong.
"What's going on?" she asked, her voice low but direct.
Peter sighed. The jig was up. There was no way out now.
"Alright," he muttered, "I wasn't going to say it, but... I can't afford to order anything. I only have enough to cover your food. And if anyone's gonna eat tonight, it should be you."
Emma stared at him, her expression being surprised, touched… and genuinely annoyed. "That," she said, voice sharp but not unkind, "is one of the most ridiculous things I've ever heard."
Before Peter could protest, she leaned in, eyes locked on his. "You're not starving yourself on a date with me. I'm paying. And don't argue, Parker. I'm not in the mood."
Peter opened his mouth, trying to protest, but she cut him off again. "Besides, you didn't ask me out. Jean is the one who wanted to play matchmaker. Technically, this is all her doing."
Peter paused, sighed in defeat, and held his hands up. "Okay, okay. You win." he told her, soon forming a smile. "Thanks, Emma. I mean that."
She waved it off like it was no big deal. "Don't mention it."
However, Peter wasn't done. "I'll make it up to you in the future, I promise." he told her sincerely.
Emma, who stared at Peter for a moment, shook her head. "Don't worry about that." she responded. Though, a part of her knew that Peter would try his hardest to repay her in some way, despite her words.
Then, in true Emma Frost fashion, she raised her hand, whistled softly, and snapped her fingers. The waiter turned at the sound, approaching promptly.
"Yes, miss?"
Emma pointed at Peter with a perfectly manicured nail. "He's ready to order."
Peter blinked as he was put right on the spot, but he would eventually get himself together. "I… uh, right. I'll take the Chicken Alfredo, please."
The waiter nodded and disappeared once more.
Peter turned back to Emma, grinning. "You really do have a way of controlling things."
Emma smirked. "It's one of my signature qualities."
Their conversation drifted into easier topics. Bad villains, weirder days, mutual friends, and the laughter between them came easier now. When Peter's Chicken Alfredo finally arrived, he dove in with more gratitude than he could express. Emma raised her wine glass slightly in his direction.
"To surviving Logan, awkward dates, and Jean's meddling," she said.
Peter raised his water in return, smiling. "And to not smelling like smoke anymore."
They clinked glasses—well, glass and water cup—and began eating, the tension between them gone, replaced by something warmer, something honest.
For the first time in the night, Peter didn't feel out of place. And neither did Emma.
END OF CHAPTER 1: MATCHMAKER
Spider-Man TAS 1994 - Ending Theme
Jean: I'm the greatest matchmaker of all time!
Emma: I want to disagree with you, but…
Jean: Is this your way of saying that you enjoyed your date with Peter?
Logan: That bub still hasn't given me back my clothes!
Peter: Well, time to run for my life again!
Author's Note: Alrighty, guys. How was that? I hope y'all enjoyed it. Until I update this story again, make sure to check out my other fics. But anyway, if you guys did enjoy it, then make sure to give this fic a FOLLOW and a FAVORITE! Don't forget to READ AND REVIEW! Stay safe out there, and I'll see y'all next time. Excelsior!