16390/Spider-Man Returns

Spider-Man Returns
Date of Scene:	27 June 2024
Location:	Gwen Stacy's Apartment, Wavecrest Gardens
Synopsis:	After six months apart without any contact, Gwen gets a text from Peter.
Cast of Characters:	Ghost Spider, Spider-Man

---

Ghost Spider has posed:
Let me tell you a story about the time Ghost-Spider was very nearly run over by a New York City bus...

It all started on a Thursday like any other. Gwen had set her alarm early (after staying up late), trying cram as many things as she could into an increasingly busy life that just couldn't seem to take even one more thing. In fact, _all_ of the things she had going were starting to stuffer.

She hadn't worked on her PhD thesis in weeks.

She'd turned down half of the modeling gigs her agent sent to her because she "didn't have time."

She was constantly either late or simply a no-show to band practice, which was (maybe) the _most_ acceptable of all of things, since Mary Jane was hardly ever there, anyway, and the band is freaking named after her. Also, they're all in their late twenties or early thirties, now, and it's really more of a hobby despite some pretty successful albums.

She manages to squeeze in some time at Alchemax, still, to keep up her credentials as a research officer, but she's already been warned that she can be replaced if she can't find the time.

She has a new guy in her life, now -- one who happens to live in a completely different city, happens to be Robin, and who has _no_ idea how she's going to find time to actually go visit him.

And on top of ALL of that, she's busy being Spider-Man. Or, at least, Spider-Man's replacement. Do you have ANY IDEA how many places Spider-Man is needed at one time? Like, she was busy, before, but without Peter? If she never slept, she'd still never get to all of the things.

So here she is, swinging through Manhattan -- the friendly neighborhood Ghost-Spider. She's all white hood fluttering in the wind, teal Chuck Taylors streaking with each arc, brown leather backpack on her back, and there's this car that's _totally_ out of control, swerving all over the place, up on the sidewalk, nearly hitting pedestrians.

She caught up to it and landed on the hood, and when she looked inside? It's a kid driving it!

"Hey, kid? Not a video game! I need you to hit the big pedal on the left, okay?!"

VROOOOOOOOOOM.

"Your other left! You know what... cover your eyes!"

*thwip-thwip*

With a couple of web-lines attached to the roof, Ghost-Spider jumps off the side of the car and then uses both hands to launch herself, feet first, through the passenger-side window.

Glass shatters, Gwen grabs the wheel with one hand, and with the other, she launches webbing at the brake pedal, sending the car screeching to a halt just before smashing into a crowded outdoor cafe.

"_Where_ are your parents?!"

Now the kid is crying.

"Ugh. Don't... I didn't... Don't cry..."

Those big mask-eyes of hers are so expressive, switching from anger to regret in an instant.

Just then, her phone dings, and she slips one hand into the pocket of her suit. "Hold on. We're going to find them. Don't _touch_ anything."

Just to be on the safe side, she *thwips* another glob of webbing over the brake and then gets out of the car.

She's walking around to the driver's side when she pulls that phone up and sees the text...

>> Peter: Hey. Need to talk to you, explain where I've been. You free to talk?

And she just.. keeps walking in a straight line, staring at her phone like her brain had suddenly been switched off. Those big eyes blink once, twice, three times.. and there's a faint tremble in her hand.

And then... BBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPP. The horn of a city bus blares. Its tires screech. And Ghost-Spider looks up like a bug that's about to be impaled on its windshield.

...

>> Gwen: Peter!!! Of course. Just tell me when and where.

Later, at Gwen's apartment, she's changed out of her costume. She has on jeans and a baggy t-shirt that reads "I'm not procrastinating, it's a side quest." Not exactly 'date' clothes, but there's something _so_ familiar about it.

They'd already been well past the point of trying to 'dress up' for each other when it wasn't a designated date, which... didn't really happen very often. Not outside of costum

Ghost Spider has posed:
...

>> Gwen: Peter!!! Of course. Just tell me when and where.

Later, at Gwen's apartment, she's changed out of her costume. She has on jeans and a baggy t-shirt that reads "I'm not procrastinating, it's a side quest." Not exactly 'date' clothes, but there's something _so_ familiar about it.

They'd already been well past the point of trying to 'dress up' for each other when it wasn't a designated date, which... didn't really happen very often. Not outside of costumes, when they could sneak away to a rooftop to share a sandwich from Katz's.

And while the thought had occurred to her that she should put some special effort in, given the state of things, that felt... kind of ridiculous. It sent a signal that she had just been waiting for him to talk to her again. Which, she had, for a long time. But, now there's Damian, and... she has no idea where Peter's head's at.

So, she tries not to pace. She busies herself with tidying up, which hasn't happened in far too long, picking a few stray pieces of clothing up off of the couch, the bed, the floor, and cramming them into a hamper.

Peter's key still works at the door, if that's what he decides to do, and the doors out to the balcony are left unlocked, as per usual.

Spider-Man has posed:
Peter ... hurt. A lot. He'd been through a very rough stretch, then he'd had to get Doctor Strange to dig most of the remaining crap out of his head, he'd had to go grovel for his job back - mutantophobia finally worked to his benefit, dammit - then take a whole bunch of Spider-Man pictures with broken frickin' ribs to send to JJJ to make him less-pissed off, then it was shower time, nice clothes - button-down and slacks, sleeves rolled up to mid-forearm - and then on his way over to Gwen's he stopped and bought flowers. His bank account screamed in agony but for this, it could suffer.

Given the circumstances, this was not a "Use your key and just walk in" situation. This was a "Knock politely, wait for her to answer the door, and hope she doesn't lead with her left." type situation.

Knock, knock, knock.

Ghost Spider has posed:
Knock, knock, knock?

Okay. That means something, right? That means they're friends, again. Which is what her text messages into the void had said. So, she shouldn't be surprised...

Or... disappointed.

Right?

Right.

She's checking herself in the mirror one last time, because even if she was trying to 'play it cool,' she couldn't help making those little, last minute adjustments to her hair, the lipstick at the corner of her mouth.. couldn't help fretting just a little.

And the seconds were ticking.

And she had to answer the door.

Why was fighting Rhino and Juggernaut at the same time less nerve-wracking than this?

Deep breath.

Hand on the door.

Deadbolt open.

And then she's pulling it open, and...

...her mouth falls open.

She just stares. And suddenly really, really regrets not putting on a dress.

"...Hi."

Spider-Man has posed:
In the small eternity between knocking and her answering the door, Peter felt like he had sweated out enough to refill the Atlantic - twice - and at the same time aged until he was keeping Aunt May company in the retirement BINGO game. When she opened the door, he gave her his best smile. Which to be fair right then wasn't all that good - the broken ribs really got in the way. He extended out the bouquet of actual used-to-grow-in the-ground dead foliage and noted that some of them were already looking a little ragged.

Damned Parker luck!

"Hi." he said back to her greeting, trying not to wince. "Figure we need to talk." he said sheepishly. "May I come in?" he sked, not wanting to intrude or push his luck.

He also spent a moment to just drink her in, lock her into his memory. God, it was so _good_ to see her again.

Ghost Spider has posed:
It's the little things that add up. And granted, dropping off the face of the earth was a pretty big tell, but the little things, too... the smile that's not quite right. His little, strained 'hi.'

Gwen's eyes flicker down him and back up again, less to take in the outfit this time (which she didn't at all disapprove of... they sort of made her regret she didn't drag him out in 'regular' clothes more often), and more to appraise his condition. No obvious bleeding. No broken limbs. If he was hurt, it was either really bad, or it _just_ happened. Gwen had gotten thrown a whole city block by Juggernaut, ended up crashing through the windshield of a car, and it hadn't taken her _that_ long to shrug it off.

She and Peter have known each other since college. Ten years, almost? They didn't even really _decide_ to start dating. It just sort of happened.

One day, he was taking pictures at one of her charity-event fashion shows.

Then Peter had retreated from everyone. The police had issued an arrest warrant for Spider-Man for the attempted assassination of the mayor (which was actually a shape shifter he foiled). The Jameson rhetoric had _really_ picked up, the entire city was hunting for Spider-Man, and yet Gwen was still there, by his side.

Then they were walking around Central Park in plain clothes at concert / political rally, keeping an eye on things together (and not wanting Spider-Man to be spotted at another political event, thus inciting mass hysteria). They ran into Gwen's dad, Captain Stacy, who was there on special detail and assumed they were dating before they even realized it.

And then... then it just kind of... happened.

They'd been dating without even realizing it, and once it dawned on them, it just made sense for Peter to come and go as he pleased. They both had weird hours, scarce time. If he could sneak in while she was asleep, if she could sneak in while _he_ was asleep, it was just that much more time they could have... another stolen opportunity to wake up together.

Those flowers, though.

Her throat tightens as she swallows, heat rising into the backs of her cheeks as her smile warms awkwardly, reaching out to take them. Tears sting the back of her eyes, and she takes a step back, brushing her hair behind her ears.

"Thank you. They're... beautiful."

She uses that second to dip her head to smell the bouquet while she waits for him to clear the entry so she can close the door behind him, and that's much more pleasant than trying to face him with those glassy, blue eyes.. at least until she can get _that_ under control again.

"Make... yourself at home."

Irony. Dry, mirthless humor, but somehow familiar and friendly rather than spiteful. This _was_ all but his home, even if they never formally discussed living together, either. There was a lot they didn't talk about. Including breaking up.

Spider-Man has posed:
Welp, she didn't lead with her left. That was good.

But the tears - that hurt more than any physical blow she could have struck. But hey, at least she liked the flowers! Or maybe she was allergic and that's why she was tearing up! Now he was just being stupid.

"I'm glad you like them." he said, and then made a very stiff beeline for her overstuffed recliner. The Sleep Chair, as he'd dubbed it more than once. Sinking into it, he winced and let out an audible grown as his broken ribs protested violently. Ahhh. He was never going to get out of this chair. He lived in this chair now. If he played his cards right maybe he could use his web shooter to grab food out of the fridge!

That was assuming, of course, that she didn't just violently kick him out for being a colossal asshat. "So." he said, then cleared his throat. "Boy, this is awkward. There's probably going to be an article in the Bugle soon about a mutant manifestation at ESU." he said awkwardly. "I kinda got caught up in it." he said. "Psi-talent. Strong one. Hit me right when I was trying to explain orbital shells to kids that wouldn't know an orbital shell if it bit them." he said. "By the time I broke the effect, it'd been weeks. Got Doc Strange to dig most of the residual effects out of my head but the kid also - and I still don't know how - managed to shatter the right side of my ribcage. Doc says it was sheer luck it didn't kill me." he blabbered.

Ghost Spider has posed:
Gwen was notorious for giving Peter the benefit of the doubt, because in the end, she didn't _really_ believe he had a malicious bone in his body. And that's part of what worked for them. She understood. She understood the late nights, the not being on time, the balancing work and costumed life, the stress of being two different people... mild-mannered academic and pun-shooting web-slinger. Or web-shooting pun-slinger. Whatever.

She understood because partially because she knew Peter and partially because she lived that life herself.

She could count on one hand the number people in her life that knew she was Ghost-Spider. Peter, Kevin, Angelica... and now Damian, who she had _never_ planned to tell. Not even her dad knew, and that didn't give her a lot of people to really be open with. Peter didn't have that many people, either. But, they'd had each other.

Until they didn't.

And that time suddenly torn apart had felt like an eternity. She'd been out of town, touring with the Mary Janes. Texting back and forth had gotten more sporadic. She'd chalked it up at first to the security and comfort of a stable relationship, not _having_ to check in that often. Peter had gotten busy with a new suit or something? And then... nothing.

It hurt.

A lot.

She hadn't been great at responding, either, and so after he dropped off the radar, she'd spent a _lot_ of time blaming herself for not being better at texting him. She hadn't heard of anyone 'taking down Spider-Man,' so it just seemed like... he didn't want to talk to her, anymore.

But here he is, now, walking in and flopping down in that chair like he'd woken up in it yesterday. Like no time had passed.

'Boy, this is awkward,' he'd said... _so_ casually.

As if this wasn't about to be a conversation about how Peter completely ghosted her, broke her heart, and left her alone in a city that still needed Spider-Man while he crawled into some fucking hole of self-pity where even she --

Instead of joining him in the living room, she went to the kitchen to get a vase down to put the flowers in, but there's a sudden clanking of glass as she slams it a little too hard on the counter, leaving the flowers on the counter next to it as she stalks back over to look at him, head tilted to the side to crane around so she could see his face before she even gets there.

"WHAT?"

Spider-Man has posed:
If he could have gotten out of the chair normally, he'd be in the kitchen by now. Instead, he was half-up, folded around his one side and trying to keep tears of pain out of his eyes. Finally, he gave up and sank back into the chair. "Yeah." he said, more than a bit awkwardly. "Just my luck, right? A late manifestation at ESU and it happens in _my_ class." he said with a sigh. "I got all your messages. Just couldn't look at them, couldn't check my phone, until I broke the control." he said. "And by rhat point I had to go _beg_ for my job back, because I'd missed, what, a month of classes? More? And I don't even want to think about Jamieson. Sent him a whole batch of new Spider-Man pictures to keep him satisfied." he addeed.

"You were my next stop. I haven't even called May yet." he confessed. And boy, now he had the guilt-weasels nibbling at his toes for _that_ decision.

"Also, got physically messed up _bad_." he said.

Ghost Spider has posed:
She'd been as prepared as she could be for how this was going to go.

She'd been ready for his, "Sorry, I was just going through some things," or "I know I should have texted you back."

She was hurt. She'd never be able to trust him again, not like she did before, but she'd been honest with her last text. Even if he was over their relationship and didn't have the guts to tell her, she didn't want to lose him as a friend.

She loved Peter too much to turn her back on him... to turn her back on him, like he turned his back on her.

But she wasn't prepared for _this_.

She wasn't prepared to hear that she'd been the one that abandoned him -- that left him to rot under mind control. That she hadn't looked hard enough. That she hadn't tried hard enough.

...That she hadn't even _waited_ long enough.

...That her first instinct had been to assume he left her, rather than combing every inch of the earth until she found him, and she'd been wrong.

There's horror in her eyes. Anger. _Rage_.

Rage at whoever took him from her. Rage at _herself_ for a million things she could have done differently. She never should have gone on tour. She never should have accepted silence as an answer. She should have had more faith in Peter, more value in herself, than to accept that being ghosted would be the end of their relationship. She should never have...

...oh God.

Damian.

In her face, it's like she's watching all of New York City crumble in slow motion. Maybe the whole world. The whole universe.

But there's Peter. And he's here. And he's in pain. And none of that matters. She'll pick up the pieces of all of that broken mess later, because right now, all she can do is go to that chair and set a hand on gently on his shoulder -- an encouragement for him to stay put with no real pressure behind it.

"What can I do? Do you need... ice? A heating pad?" That's stupid. Right? That's stupid.

Panic is rising in her eyes. Peter's hurt, and she has no idea what to do about it.

"...do you want to lie down? Are you sure you broke the control? Do I need to call Dr. Strange to help some more?" She doesn't know how to call Dr. Strange, but she looks ready to web-sling her way through the front door and drag the man to this apartment if she needs to.

Her hand is trembling.

Spider-Man has posed:
He just patted her hand on his shoulder in reassurance. "Hey. Unclench." he said with the old Parker smile, admittedly one tinged with more than a little pain. "Give me a couple of days and the ribs should be knit enough to let me more more naturally." he explained. "Just, after all the texts I'd missed, how you sounded in them, my poor voicemail box, I wanted to come see you right away. Make sure you were OK. New York's probably been going a little nuts without its Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man. So I guess a Friendly Neighborhood Ghost Spider will have to do. Just a few more days, babe, then I can put my footie pajamas back on and go remind the bad guys that actions have consequenca. I'm ... just a little sore right now. I'll be OK, just gonna take a bit to heal up." he said. "I'd like a bottle of water, if you've got one handy." he said.

A pause. "You know Strange, or is this Gwen on a rampage?" he joked. "Because if you're gonna rampage I'm gonna need some time to get out of the way. Maybe call Japan, see if their Godzilla-wranglers are free."

Ghost Spider has posed:
'Unclench,' he said.

Which meant he didn't crawl back here to die.

Which meant she could stop worrying about _that_ and let everything else that was building up pressure inside her skull finally pop.

Fury fills her eyes. Poor Peter. At least she lets him get through the whole thing before it all comes out like Old Faithful going off unexpectedly.

"Unclench?!"

Yeah. Here we go.

"I am _NOT_ OKAY. I haven't _been_ okay. NOTHING about this is okay. I thought you LEFT ME, Peter."

The very acute observer that knows Gwen particularly well might note that all of this rage she's suddenly screaming out is directed at herself, not at Peter, because even as she's doing it, she's stalking into the kitchen.

"And it TURNS OUT, not only am I AWFUL girlfriend, I let my BEST FRIEND and SPIDER-MAN rot under some MIND CONTROL..."

Fridge open. Water grabbed. Fridge door _slammed_ closed.

"...while _I_ just went around pretending that everything was FINE. And NOW..." She laughs darkly, just a faint edge of hysteria to it, as she comes back and shoves the water down at him. "_NOW_ the _first_ thing you do when you get back is call me GIANT LIZARD."

Arms cross her stomach. Her jaw clenches. Her eyes are _so_ full of emotion, glassy, struggling to put the whole house back back together while still inside the hurricane.

"...When I'm OBVIOUSLY more like King Kong."

Humor. Just a faint ray of humor that doesn't even touch her lips. But it's there in her eyes. In the softness that's hidden under everything. In the love that, in that moment, hurts as much as it helps.

"Because no. I don't know him. But I have to go get him and bring him here, I will. Him and Tony Stark and Captain Marvel and I'll bring the whole Avengers building here if I have to."

Beat. Her eyes shift to the side. Her voice quieter.

"I saw the one that shoots arrows the other day. At the MET. He... helped with Vulture."

Spider-Man has posed:
Peter opened his mouth and somehow - maybe it was the pain meds - the filter turned off.

"Right, because a giant hairy gorilla that, admittedly, could climb the Empire State Building is just what every woman wants to be compared to." he said teasingly. "Least Godzilla can spew radioactive fire breath and has a cool scream. Much cooler than monkey noises. Out of a gorilla." he pointed out, then picked up the water, uncapped it, and took a swallow.

"Next time I go visit the Spooky One, I'll bring you with me. Arrange an introduction. He's a good man. Little weird sometimes, but a good man." he said. "Adrian or his granddaughter?" he asked at the mention of the Vulture. "Tricksy old bastard and his grand-daughter's a handful as well." he pointed out. "Glad Hawkeye was there to help. If I could physically be Spider-Man right now, I would suit up and go help with whatever you need." he pointed out.

" I owe you, Gwen. Bunches and bunches. You stepped up when I couldn't be there. And that means a lot."

Ghost Spider has posed:
"You've never minded my -- "

Noises.

The quip was out of her mouth before she could stop it, and there's no such thing as a vocal backspace. Not without the ability to control time, anyway.

She won't look at him after that, just reaching up and rubbing the back of her neck. She still wasn't sitting down, either. Too much anxious energy. She's barefoot, and all of her weight is on the balls of her feet, like she could spring into action as Ghost-Spider in an instant. She's even standing like that.. the heel heel of one foot against the arch of the other. All long, lean, ballet dancer lines, even in that oversized t-shirt.

"Adrian..."

But it's the 'I owe you' that snaps her eyes back to him, alight with pain like a flaming sword had just been shoved through her chest.

"Don't."

Her arms squeeze a little tighter. Hug herself a little closer.

"Please... don't say that."

Spider-Man has posed:
Peter blushed as he realized what he'd said and where her brain went. "Nope." he said agreeably, knowing that there was no way he was to dig his way out of _that_ anytime soon. "Hey. Kamere. Ribs are out of commission but my hands work fine. And you look tense. Can't imagine why." he said teasingly, and then promptly wished for her verbal backspace key. "I mean, you've been real busy, I'm sure." he said, trying to cover for his gaffe. And dealing with his own stab of guilt for what he'd put her through.

Real smooth there, Parker.

Ghost Spider has posed:
If Peter's voice is the web-line that tries to snag her back to him, guilt is the anchor that roots her in place.

She shouldn't. She didn't deserve his hands anywhere near her. But it's _Peter_...

And he's hurt. It's not about her guilt. It's not about her unfaithfulness. It's not about the agony that's shredding her from the inside or the betrayal knows she committed. It's not about _her_.

He was the one that was kidnapped, mind controlled, beaten to a pulp. He was the one that had to go to Dr. Strange for help. He was the one that had been abandoned when he needed her most.

She huffs a little scoff at his 'can't imagine why,' after only a couple seconds of hesitation, she's moving back to him, her hand reaching out towards his. There's plenty of room on that big recliner. She's not a very large woman. She'd curled up in his lap and tucked in beside him before. But she doesn't try it.

"I'm so sorry."

And that sadness in her eyes runs _deep_.

"I am so... so sorry."

Spider-Man has posed:
He spent a moment to look into her eyes. There was something she wasn't telling him, but that was fine. She would keep his secrets to the grave, as he'd keep hers. Whatever was lurking in that head of hers, she could keep it. It'd come out or not in its own time. He waved off her apology with a gesture of one hand. Which he then used to take the one she's offering him.

"I should be apologizing to you. For the next few days, anyway, I live here now. I'll probably fart in your chair. Least I'm not bleeding on it this time." he said with as much of a grin as he could muster. "Mostly because it's deeply comfortable and with the ribs standing's gonna be a real bitch." he said. "So you may need to stock up on dino nuggies and Capri Sun." he teased. "I'm such a picky eater." he said.

She knew damned well he'd eat almost anything put in front of him if it was attractively plated.

"You look tense. May I?" he asked, squeezing her hand by way of a demonstration. Parker backrubs weren't the most polished things in the universe but he had phenomenal grip strength and enough sensitivity to knew when he was massaging out a tense muscle vs when he was crushing her clavicles or the like.

Ghost Spider has posed:
'I'll probably fart in your chair.'

Gwen's eyes close, and despite herself, she lets out a soft chuckle. "You can be _such_ a boy, sometimes," she muses.

And there it is, in her voice. Gwen. Gwen as if nothing had happened, as if they hadn't missed a day, an hour, a minute. Warm. Affectionate. Familiar.

"You're _thirty_ now. I'm not feeding you..."

Dino nuggies? The man suffered through months of mind control, and she couldn't get him dino nuggies and Capri Sun?

Those eyes open again and roll to the ceiling dramatically.

"You know what? Fine. I'll go get you dino nuggies and Capris Sun. _One_ box. And then I'm making you _real_ food, again. I'm not letting you go back to eating like a bachelor."

And that... that was the truth of it.

In the span of a few seconds, she'd not only ignored the 'threat' of him living here -- dismissing it out of hand as if it was still expected -- but she'd re-assumed her role as girlfriend, guardian against his self-destructive habits, without even trying. Without even raising it as a question.

Then there's that squeeze of her hand. That question. And her shoulders sag with a breath she blows out.

"Please."

And then she turned, settling tentatively to perch, practically weightless, on one of his thighs, like she was afraid anything more than holding his hand was going to be agony for him.

Spider-Man has posed:
Peter swallowed heavily for reasons that had nothing - OK, maybe a little - Fine. A lot to do with his ribcage. But pain and Peter were old friends and for the time being he could ignore it. There was a Gwen, right there, and she looked tense. Stiff. Uncomfortable.

Unacceptable.

She was trying not to put any weight - which she barely had, she was built on the whipcord lean model - on him. So he put his hands on her neck and began to gently probe for where the tension was. When he found it, he used his strength sparingly to try to amssage out the muscle tension, to get tendons to relax. If he could.

He was going to give it the ol' college try, that was for sure.

And then it hit him. She was going to keep him from eating _like a bachelor_.

Was that a hint? Was she angling for something?

Ghost Spider has posed:
Gwen lets her eyes slide closed as those hands settle on her shoulders and squeeze and rub, thumbs easily finding a slew of knots and bunched cords around both of her shoulder blades, up around the back of her neck... she carried it everywhere.

The weight of New York City. The whole place. All on her shoulders.

Add to that the weight of losing the man she loves.

Add to that the weight of realizing she'd betrayed the man she loves.

Add to that the weight of knowing that the next time she opens her mouth may be the last time he ever speaks to her again.

Those knots of bunched up stress move and deflate, drawing soft, familiar sounds of pleasure.

But there are so many of them.

He could do this for hours and not get them all.

He could do this for hours and she'd never ask him to stop.

But they didn't have hours.

Her conscience would never let her go hours.

It was already twisting her up almost to the point of nausea.

But then there's another knot gone, a deeper sag of her shoulders as the fog of relaxation really started to roll in, to tempt her to just keep her mouth shut, to close her eyes and lay back and pull a blanket over both of them...

"I have to tell you something." It's barely a whisper, her head lulling forward. It was better this way. She couldn't look him in the eye for this part. She wouldn't have to see the way he looked at her. The way it changed -- the way that affection and sometimes awe wilted to disgust.

"I thought you left me." The tension's back in her shoulders. Doubled. All of his work undone by a ripple of preparation to rise from his lap and let him go.

"It had been months..." Her heart is pounding so hard he can feel it through her whole torso.

"I met someone." She felt light-headed. "We..."

It's like a dream -- or a nightmare -- having to say these words to him. Words that, sixth months ago, she would have said were impossible. That there was _no_ scenario in which this would ever happen.

"We slept together."

And then the shaking is back. Just faintly. A tremor that's a little faster than her racing heartbeat.

"I didn't know..."

Spider-Man has posed:
Peter kept working on her knots on top of knots on top of knots as she spoke. It hurt, sure, but he had to take a moment to _think_. Work the logic, Parker. See it how she saw it. And from there - it made sense. "Okay." he said simply. offering hee the greatest gift he could possibly give her.

Acceptance.

"Do you want to go back to him?" he asked her, still working on the knots in her back. "You can, if you'd be happier there." he said softly. Simply. Trying not to choke on emotion. "All I want is your happiness. If you'd be happier there, well, that's just how it is. If not, then believe me, I have _zero_ problem with that." he said with a choked laugh. "You should do what's best for you." he reiterated softly.

Ghost Spider has posed:
Okay.

Okay, get off my lap and give me back the clothes I keep here?

Okay, you left me to rot while you were sleeping with another man?

Okay...............okay?

'Do you want to go back to him?'

Gwen whips her head around, her blue eyes fierce and _deadly_ serious. She couldn't believe it. She couldn't believe that he was still _touching_ her.

"Peter, I love you. I would never have done it, if I'd known the truth. I would have waited, if I thought there was a chance. Forever, if I had to. _You_ make me happy. _You_ are the man I love. _You_ and all of your nerdy, boyish, can't-remember-his-mask, eats-dino-nuggies-for-breakfast, constantly late, _stupidly_ and selflessly throws himself into the worst possible situations... _all_ of you."

Her jaw clenches, her nose scrunching.

Tears well instead of just glistening in her eyes, and she hates it. She hates crying. She's always _so_ full emotion -- when she's dancing, when she's swinging through town, when she's laughing, when she's playing in the band... _everything_ she does, she does with passion.

But she hates crying.

"You're what's best for me."

Spider-Man has posed:
He looked dead in her eyes. No laughs. No jokes. Serious Parker is serious.

"Now you know better." he told her.

Then, because words will just screw things up even more, he leans forward and kisses her. Hard.