Chapter Text
“Got the beer.”
“Got the mayo.”
Ned frowns, eyes flicking between Peter’s face and the jar of mayonnaise. Peter keeps grinning even as he dumps the jar into the basket next to their beer. “We need to talk about your idea of a good night.”
He had learned early on when Belle had been born that life didn’t stop moving just because Peter had other plans. Belle would still get flus even when Peter had managed to clear his calendar for a night with Ned. Groceries still needed to be bought even when he wanted nothing more than to stay in bed on the only weekend he had free.
Life kept moving.
He was just better at juggling it all now. Sometimes things needed to be combined– like Beastslayer beers and grocery shopping.
“You have no idea what a good night with me is, Ned, but I can show you if you want.” He leers, waggling his eyebrows and leaning in close to Ned who shoves him away.
“Both our partners would be very upset if you tried but can’t say it wouldn’t come as a surprise to them. They know about that summer at camp.” Peter’s head tilts, brows drawn together in confusion. He isn’t always the best at keeping his friends informed on his life - he’s gotten better than where he was nearly a decade ago, showing up to his birthday party and announcing that he and Gwen had gotten married a few hours before. Ned knew that his dating life was history since Patrick. “MJ. Belle told me that she’s been around a lot.”
“Flash is a terrible influence on her if she’s gossiping. Not sure if I want your boyfriend around her anymore.”
“Oh yeah, sure. I believe that.” Ned scoffs, “Who was it that helped you teach her phonics?”
Peter scrunches his face, turning away and beginning to walk down the aisle as he lies. “May.”
“Who else?”
“Can’t recall. Too many concussions between now and then, real shame.” He sighs sadly, grabbing a jar of pesto off of the shelf and turning the label round, nose scrunching as he does. How this could be in MJ’s favourite sandwich is beyond him. Too many times had he stopped by her place during college and been fed pesto pasta for dinner, she had to be sick of it by now. “MJ isn’t my partner, she would probably cheer if you and I started dating–”
“She hates dealing with Flash after a break-up.”
“But she loves your cooking more and if you moved in with Belle and I then she’d get it more often–”
“Because she’s been at your apartment a lot lately.” From behind Peter’s back he can hear Ned’s smirk, thinking he had cornered Peter into some kind of victory.
“Night shoots, she needs to crash somewhere close. What are you trying to imply?”
“Nothing, it was just a joke.” Peter puts the jar back on the shelf, glancing sideways to Ned. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if it wasn’t a joke though.”
“Alright, you’re done. Is work so slow that you need to find your entertainment elsewhere?”
“Just making an observation.”
Except that it was an observation that had cropped up before when both Peter and MJ had been single. An old crush from High School igniting again in the wake of both their heartbreaks. Peter hadn’t dated anyone since Gwen, but was opening up to the possibility of it. MJ always stopped by a lot to help with Belle, but after she broke up with Jackson she was there a whole lot more. In May’s kitchen, watching Belle together, they felt like a family.
One night they had been close to falling into bed together; Belle was sleeping in her own room by that point and Peter lived on the pullout couch. MJ laid just inches from him, her lips so close to his. He was close enough to see the flakes of mascara that had fallen under her eye.
Being that close to her, he could see everything that he could lose. It’d been fifteen months since Gwen had died. Fifteen months and it was fresh enough that he was too terrified to act so he pressed a kiss to her forehead and rolled over.
As if smelling Peter’s fear, Ned had started his questions the very next week.
Within two months, Jackson and MJ were back together. Peter brushed his feelings aside, realising that a lot of it had stemmed from loneliness and wistfulness for something he lost. Even back then, he’d known it wasn’t the full truth. Back then, it was easier, better to keep things as they were for the sake of Belle. There was only so much change she could endure so young.
Today he knows that a lot of things can be true at once. Today, he is well past that old crush.
Or so he told himself.
It was easier if he did that.
To this day, there was too much at risk to consider anything else between them. Belle might be able to withstand the change, but would Peter?
He could barely process that Belle was getting older. He barely knew how to talk to her now that she was growing up at a race he couldn’t keep pace with. How was he meant to handle his relationship with MJ changing too?
MJ was a comfort, a steady rock. She was one of the voices he turned to when everything else felt incomprehensible. Her honesty was something he relied on for himself and for Belle. If they started dating, would she soften that?
(He knew her better than that. The only person who had gotten MJ to ever change a thing about herself was Gwen.)
And what if it didn’t work?
They were both already busy people, a break-up would apply a strain to their friendship that they didn’t have the time to awkwardly explore. MJ’s late night visits would probably stop for both their sakes and they would struggle to find another time where they were both free to talk it out.
Before Gwen had died, they had started to see how easily adult friendships could dissolve. There was no animosity when the texts, calls and coffees stopped. People just slid into their peripheral vision until they faded away into the silence. He didn’t want that happening with MJ.
He couldn’t.
“She’s still just a friend, Ned. Always will be.”
Despite himself, he bends down to one of the lower shelves and stuffs a cheaper jar of pesto under his arm, ignoring the confused look Ned sends his way as he immediately begins walking towards the checkout.
“There’s still some left, you want me to pack it up? She can take it to school tomorrow. I think I’ve got a thermos around here that’d keep it hot.” May murmurs, standing before Peter can stop her. For a woman who’d complained when Peter’d stolen away cutlery and tupperware following their dinners, hiding them away never to be seen again, May still likes to send him home with his arms full of half full casserole dishes covered in clingwrap and plastic containers she’d cleaned from takeout meals past.
“Is that soup-ible for you or am I gonna get written complaints that there’s no sandwich to rate?” Peter asks offhandedly to Belle. He was more hoping for a reaction to his joke, but she takes a moment to properly consider his question.
“Normally people do complain when you cook.” May teases from inside the kitchen cupboard. A second later, one arm shoots upward, a dented thermos gripped tightly in her hands. Murmuring about it needing a good wash, she slowly stands upright, one hand pressed to her lower back while Peter’s chest squeezes tightly– something all too familiar about the sight.
He remembers Ben rummaging for a flask the same way, muttering about wanting to keep his hands warm while on shift. During the city’s first cold spell, Peter’d been sent on to his hands and knees to search through their tiny kitchen to find his larger thermos so he have hot coffee to power him through his frosty patrol. He’s pretty certain Belle had laughed at the sight.
Little patterns in the every day that he hadn’t noticed until now.
“I can handle making a sandwich.” He scoffs through the lump in his throat.
“Yeah, now.” Belle snorts. “You shoulda seen the ones he started sending me to school with. They were awful. Like four out of ten, maximum.”
Peter’s lips purse. He was fairly certain that rating had changed. While not great in comparison to the more decadent ones he’d been building lately– trips to the deli replacing the store bought cold cuts, more salad and dressing– switching up the bread!-- the classic ham and mustard on white could not be overlooked.
Belle doesn’t elaborate, her phone starting to chirp from her pocket and her eyes darting towards Peter in a silent question, asking to be excused from the table to answer whatever call or text was coming through.
When had she started to grow more attached to that thing?
He nods, smiling tightly when Belle races up and practically vaults over the couch. In turn, he stands with a sigh and meets May at the sink to help her wash up the dishes from dinner– as well as dry the flask.
“When do you feel like you’ve got everything right?” He asks in lieu of anything else. Suddenly feeling like he’d misstepped and missed something else.
Belle had to have a phone. It was the type of thing that he and Gwen probably would have argued about if she was still alive, but with the life he lived, and the things she was adjacent to, she needed to have a phone. He needed to be able to contact her in case of emergencies. More importantly, he needed her to be able to contact him.
It wasn’t a new model, it wasn’t ‘trendy’. It was a hand-me-down from Ned– none of Peter’s phones had survived long enough for him to offer up his own. It was something that Belle knew to keep charged and keep on her person.
Somehow, he was feeling like he had missed a few steps. It was never meant to be something she got sucked into. Was rushing away from dinner the first sign of that? Or was it school related? Had her friends finally been given phones and was she at an age where that was the normal thing?
Was there a right answer to that?
“You never quite do, but there are moments along the way.” Nudging her shoulder against his, May smiles. “I’m looking at one now. You’re making her lunches for school now? What happened five dollars and an apple?”
“Inflation.” He jokes flatly before explaining the full story. “She asked for me to start.”
“And you did it.”
“Well, yeah. She asked.” He shrugs, glancing back over his shoulder to look at Belle. She was unbothered by their conversation, engrossed in her own with her friend. They were talking about dinner, and Belle was showing off the blanket May had draped over the couch. It’s achingly familiar and strange. He’s been where she is, and now he’s standing in May’s place. “I still feel like I’m missing something.”
May hums and accepts the next bowl he passes to her. “Kids have their secrets. Some are bigger than others.” Her shoulder nudges him again. “Some are just.. Them trialling what their version of independence looks like. She’ll come to you when she’s ready.”
“And what if she doesn’t?” He worries.
“You remind her that she can. It’ll happen when it needs to.” May promises him.
From the couch, Belle swivels round to look at them, the phone still in her hand and from this view he can see her friend’s camera– Aneesa. She was in Belle’s history class, she’d come over to the apartment once to finish a history project. She was a nice kid. Polite.
She must be able to see them too as she gives a little wave.
“Dad, Aneesa’s gonna sit with us tomorrow. She wants to see the ratings live! Could I please get a sandwich and I’ll have the leftovers for dinner.”
“Uh. Yeah, sure.” Peter nods, waving back to Aneesa. “You allergic to anything Aneesa?” Belle answers for her with a shake of her head. “Cool.”
“What are you going to make, Gordon?” A beat. “Ramsay. It’s a good joke!”
“I don’t think he makes sandwiches.” The tea towel is flicked in his direction. “Uh… I got some pesto at the store the other day with Ned. So maybe like… Pesto, tomato, mozzarella… Some arugula too.”
“Very specific.”
Peter clears his throat. “It’s uh– It was MJ’s favourite. Figured I’d switch it up away from Delamr’s menu, you know?”
May’s mouth quirks, a knowing smile beginning to spread over her face. “Seems you have some secrets of your own, kid.”
The weekend rolls in with little fanfare; Belle proves herself to be Peter’s daughter with her rating of the week’s sandwich and kindly asks that he go back to what was working before, with the added request to not tell MJ that she wasn’t a fan,trying to explain that ‘cheese isn’t a filling by itself. You need more than just salad to make it work’.
On the Saturday, while Peter goes on patrol, Belle goes to visit MJ on set accompanied by Ned and Flash. In between helping out with a fire, stopping a few robberies and pointing a tourist out of Central Park, he checks his phone to see a picture of Belle playing games in MJ’s trailer with ehr uncles– the addition of the console was definitely not something MJ would have requested prior to filming for herself.
Unsurprisingly, the evening is spent with them all returning to the apartment. Ned and Flash invade for dinner. Peter is glad to have the excuse to order takeout, knowing that his fridge is bordering on bare now that they’d finished up the last of the leftovers May’d sent them home with the other night. He needs to do a grocery run, but there’s less shame in admitting that to himself without Belle looking at him knowingly when he suggests they get pizza just for the two of them– a kid too perceptive for her own good.
When it comes time for Ned and Flash to leave, Peter casts a quick look to MJ, wondering if she’d be joining them. The only move she makes is towards the kitchen with Belle, asking for help washing up. She intends to stay the night here again then.
Watching Belle and MJ together in the kitchen, knowing that the night doesn’t end here at this moment, there are those echoing memories again. He thinks of Gwen and him by the kitchen sink, he thinks of Ben watching him and May in the kitchen, he thinks of the faint memories he has of his parents.
He thinks of family.
By the time Belle has gone to bed, and Peter has pulled out the couch, MJ joining him under the sheets to mindlessly watch late night re-runs, it’s far later than he likes to stay up when he has a free weekend– it’s midnight.
(Being an adult, having a kid and the delicate balance that his life existed on, midnight was as late as he could handle these days without chaos and adrenaline keeping him up.)
She makes no moves to head towards the bedroom, and he knows it’s because she’s avoiding something– whether that’s a conversation or her own thoughts. Deciding to be the adult between them, Peter decides to broach the topic.
“You want me to heat up leftovers for you?”
She shakes her head. “Nah, I’m good.”
“You sure? Could make you a sandwich too if you wanted something different?”
“I’m not hungry. You can have the night off from trying to take care of everyone else, you know.”
“I’m a superhero and a dad, that’s almost impossible.” A beat. “Plus…You’re not really letting me take care of you any other way so making sure you’re comfortable here is the least I can do.”
MJ purposefully avoids his gaze.
“Whatever is on your mind, you can talk to me about, you know.” He promises.
“It’s not a big deal… You have other stuff going on–”
“Please don’t do that, I’m already worried Belle’s doing that. Don’t make me believe it’s actually true.”
MJ snorts humourlessly, going quiet beside him.
“It’s almost time to start auditioning for projects again…” No matter how many times she did this part of the process, auditions always made MJ thoughtful and contemplative. Without Gwen, she probably never would have taken this leap, and Peter wonders if starting that cycle all over again brings up memories of the friend who pushed her into it.
As someone who feels like they’re starting from scratch over and over with every new thing he learns from the mistakes he’s made, he also wonders if it’s just an exhausting process. Especially when MJ has to consider other factors– a quiet fear playing in the back of him mind that New York wasn’t the only place her work could take her. There might be other opportunities elsewhere.
“Not a lot of options in the city?”
“No, no. There’s plenty of projects. Plenty of options.” She sighs, deflating more. There is an uncertainty that’s shrouding her that isn’t quite compatible with the MJ he knows. She isn’t the type of person to be afraid, not anymore at least, and–... It scares him.
If there’s something she isn’t ready to face, what hope does he have?
“I just don’t know if I want to keep doing screen work. It’s not as big of a challenge as it used to be. I feel like I’m going through the motions with it.” She breathes in, holds it in her chest and then releases. “I think I might wanna try theatre? It’s different and maybe a little dumb because it won’t pay as well, and I don’t want to be stunt casted. I want to earn that spot on the stage and I know that probably means starting over from scratch again but–”
Even as she’s voicing all her concerns and her worries, her pitch is breathy and the words roll out quickly, excitement underlying everything else. Peter can’t help but grin, knowing that he is watching the very beginning of MJ’s determination towards a new project. It’s a rare sight, something few people get to witness. She keeps this more vulnerable side of herself locked away.
Her eyes lift, looking for some assurance in Peter’s expression.
“Don’t laugh.”
“I’m not laughing.” He promises, nodding as he does. Peter is completely in awe of this woman. He is proud of her. “I’m smiling. I think that’s great, Em. Seriously.”
“You don’t think it’s stupid?”
“Even if I did, you’d still do it.” He says, “Is that why you’ve been hanging out here so much? You didn’t want to go home and think about it too much?”
“You tell me off if I’m on my phone too much after work. I figured I could– trust my gut around you.”
“And what’s your gut saying?”
“That if I try it and I suck, at least I tried it?”
There is a lot unsaid in that sentence; they both know how short time actually is. They’re both aware of all the things Gwen said she wanted to do but never got around to. They both know that Belle wouldn’t be here if fear had won out.
They both know there are worse things than failing.
“Sounds like you’ve got an answer then.”