Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“—and ‘lose your virginity’?  Like virgins are innocent and pure but as soon as you have sex, boom, contaminated.  Please.  You’re the same person, with another experience under your belt.  Uh.  So to speak.”

May’s already nodding.  God, you love this woman, even if you and Peter don’t work out you’re totally keeping her.  He can find himself another aunt.  “Linking sex and purity is so unhealthy, isn’t it!  Peter, Ned - you’re both virgins; what do you think?”

Ned chokes on his tom kha gai as Peter moans, “Mayyyyy!” and drops his head into his hands.  May winks at you, and you nearly snort your tea.  Oh yeah.  She’s yours.

May sniffs. “Girls should be embarrassed if they aren’t virgins, guys if they are: how stupid.  I love you both whatever you’ve done or not done with a girl, guy or non-binary person.” Why can't Coach Wilson teach sex-ed this matter-of-factly?

Uh-oh, Peter’s about to lift his head.  “People,” you suggest innocently, and yep, back down goes the head with a groan.  May gives you a thumbs-up.  You clear your throat to keep from giggling.  “May, thanks for dinner.  Can I help with dishes?”

“Peter, she can come over and talk to me any time, why didn’t you bring her a long time ago?”

Peter finally sits up.  “Because I knew how you two would be together.  Except it’s even worse than I thought.”

“Worse?  Or better?”  You give it exactly the right intonation.

“Invader Zim?” Ned says, perking up now that he can shift the conversation in a nerdier direction.  “That’s what we should watch tonight!”

“Fine,” May says, “but first help clear the table, MJ and I aren’t doing it all.  Leave!  No!  Evidennnnnnnnnce!”

Ned looks at May adoringly.  “Did you just make an Invader Zim reference too?  Marry me, May, how do you even know Invader Zim?”

“I’d be too overwhelmed by a man who wears hats as well as you do, Ned, and the thing about Invader Zim being an older cult classic is … so am I.”

* * *

May only makes it through the first four episodes before going to bed “because some of us have work in the morning – and you finish patrolling by midnight, you need rest even if school’s out, and nobody touch the vegan brownies, I’m working on the third-floor neighbors.”

Peter and Ned get into an argument about whether the Almighty Tallest could secretly be Emperor Palpatine and his clone in an alternate universe; you roll your eyes, get out your sketchpad, and prop your feet on Peter’s lap.

Eventually Peter says, “Whatcha drawing?  Ned and me having crises at dinner?”

Huh.  Ned looks like he’s having one just remembering.  “Cows.”

Peter blinks.  “Cows?  That’s … far afield … from your usual subjects.”  You blatantly ignore him.

Ned seems eager to avoid rehashing his dinner crisis.  “Cows are boring.”

Peter starts massaging your feet.  Oooh.  “Unless these are cows!  In!  Crisis!”

“Astronomy cows, dorks.”

Ned makes a face.  “I don’t like astronomy.  Too many stars.”  He throws a piece of popcorn at you.

Peter intercepts it and throws it back.  “Dude, you love Star Wars.”

“Yeah, but in real astronomy there’s no light sabers.”

“OK, but there’s black holes, magnetars, all different kinds of Force -”

You’re not sitting here for a Star Wars vs. Real Stars argument.  “Dudes.  Astronomy cows.”

Your loyal nerd backs you up.  “Yeah, see?  Astronomy cows.”

Ned wrinkles his nose.  “Astronomy cows aren’t a thing.”

You lower your voice, going for darkly foreboding.  “They will be.”

* * *

You flop on your bed, putting the final touches on another astronomy cow while waiting for Peter’s text.  He complains about three whole people wanting to know he’s gotten home safely, but tough, that’s what you get for letting people care about you.

Your phone buzzes: text to group DorkChat, from Spider-Nerd: home ok night

After Ned acknowledges, you text Peter back privately.

knock on May’s wall?

yes nanny

hey
just trying to help
loser
(can’t let it get all syrupy up in here)

i know : ) thank you
there are syrup puns to be made
but too tired, dont think im maple to do it

omg im dumping you

if you butter me up maybe ill rub your feet again

hmmmm block your number now
or wait til i get one more foot rub

just think what you could get if you syrup … me? up?
oo found the spackle
OK GOODNIGHT

i have decided
i will let you rub my feet tomorrow

awesome can’t wait
hey wait thought i was making you earn that

i watered the strawberry plants today

ok ill get them tomorrow

im hanging out with May tmw while you patrol

uh-oh

sweet dreams :)

Chapter Text

You don’t hear him sneak back into his room – of course.  He calls, “It was a good afternoon, May.  Saved four cats, gave seven people directions, stopped two muggings.  Fixed a kid’s tricycle, the wheel’d gotten bent.  People gave me churros.”

“Great,” May calls back, flipping to your next sketch.

Your phone buzzes.

i know youre out there

am i?

breath
heartbeat
tiny creaks from the chair facing my room
your phone buzzing every time i text
scent of ginger lemongrass tea may got for you
scent of paper from your sketchbook
scent of you…

good thing i have tea
bc youre making me thirsty
hmm you have other senses …
how else can you prove i exist
i can hear your phone too :p

i can hear you smiling

Rummaging noises.  “Do we have any clean tow—never mind.”

dont say anything when i come out, ok?
dont do anything to make may turn around

are you hurt

ill be fine by the time im out of the shower
promise
just stiff
uh no innuendo there

let me see

…

let me see or im telling may right now

ok…just dont scare may

He steps out of his room, back to you.  Towel around his hips, suit bracelets, and nothing else.  God.  Damn.  Beautiful.  You turn your breath-catch into a yawn, for May, but when he turns around, it’s hard not to gasp: his torso is covered with bruises – imprints of a tricycle wheel and who knows what else – faded, except for a deep-purple splotch on his left hip.  He’s limping.  Fortunately May’s still focused on your sketches and doesn’t see your eyes widen.

You meet his eyes.  Well.  This is gonna happen, isn’t it?  He won’t stop, so he’s gonna get hurt.  You’ve seen him injured before: hiding it at school, limping on the Tower Bridge. You kept him from getting jostled boarding the plane home.  Neither of you has to like it.  You give him a tiny nod, then glance towards the bathroom.  He nods and goes.  You sigh.

As soon as the bathroom door closes, May looks up.  She opens her mouth, then glances after Peter and shuts it again with a wry twist.  She pulls out her phone and texts something, but shows it to you rather than sending it.

He’s hurt.

You nod reluctantly.

But he told you not to scare me.
Promised he’d be fine by the end of his shower.

You nod again, then pull your own phone out.

i made him show me
lots of bruises
mostly healed
big purple one left hip

She sighs, then presses her lips together and nods.

I let him get away with this
because I made him promise not to hide anything serious.
He and I define serious differently.
When he comes out I’ll find an excuse to step out.
Make him show you he’s better.

You hesitate.

we agreed clothes stay on
i just made him show me now bc i was freaking out

Her mouth quirks.

I’m glad you can talk about that.
I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not ok with.
But speaking from experience
Nightmares about his injuries suck.
Might help to SEE he really is better.
I’ll step out, you decide what to do.

You already know about the nightmares.

She turns back to the sketches.  “I love these!  So lively and funny.  Maybe we could turn it into a fundraiser?  For books?”

“Oh!  Hang on!”  You flip to the astronomy cow wearing socks and a dorky science pun T-shirt (an eight-legged cow saying “I ♥ my mootations”) and add a web between the horns, then to the one spinning in an office chair and add an oversized hat.  Hmm, they need light sabers.

May smiles.  “Where’s mine?”

“Here.”  Long hair and high-waisted pants look as silly on a cow as socks or a hat.

May bursts out laughing.  “MJ!  Definitely a fundraiser. Auction off personal ones, I’ll buy all three of these.  You have to autograph them though.”

You flip the sketch book closed.  “Don’t let him see.”  You head down the hall and knock on the bathroom door.  “Hurry up, May refilled my tea three times.”

His “ok” sounds a little breathless.  Why would – oh.  You smile.  Maybe he really does heal that fast.

When you get back out, May grabs her keys.  “Gonna go get the mail, back in five.”

The door shuts behind her.  Peter’s making himself a sandwich.  You sit down at the table, tapping your fingers on your tea mug.  You did set a limit … He turns and dammit, he’s still favoring his left side.

“Let me see,” you say abruptly.

He blinks.  “I …”

“I’m not asking for sex, Peter!”  You stand and grab the dish towel, then reconsider and bring his towel from the bathroom.  “I’m sorry I threatened to tell May, I shouldn’t have pressured you, I just – I need to figure out how to handle this, because it’s gonna keep happening and I need to know what you can handle so I know when to actually worry.  OK?  Don’t decide for me.”  You hold out the towel.  “Let me see you.  Please.”

He reaches out slowly and takes the towel, then holds it loosely in front of himself, gesturing with his suit bracelets.  His clothes slither fluidly over his body to his wrists, extending the bracelets along his forearms.  You raise your eyes to his.  “OK?”

He hesitates, biting his lower lip, then nods firmly.  “This isn’t how I’ve imagined my first time using the remove function for you.”

“Heh. Same.”  You let yourself examine his chest.  Almost entirely healed.  His side.  Still a few small splotches of dark yellow.  His hip.  Still bruised, but no worse than his chest earlier.  You let your breath out.  “Thank you.”  You lay your hand on his hip, slowly and carefully.  The skin over the bruise is hot beneath your palm.  You blink and lay your other hand on his chest where there was a bruise earlier.  Warmer than your own skin, but not feverish.  Hmm.  You move your hand to his upper arm where there’d been no bruise.  Normal warmth.  You raise an eyebrow at him.  “Accelerated healing burns hella calories at the injury.”

“Nice excuse,” he teases.  “If you want your hands on me…”  He puts his own free hand gently over yours.  “And yes, so: sandwich.”

You want to kiss him.  You want to smirk and collect more data.  You want – you make yourself take your hands off him, though not without trailing your fingers lightly over unbruised skin above his hip.  “I’m sciencing so I don’t worry, Spider-Dork, or disrespect our boundaries, or hurt you because if I grab your hips like I’m thinking about –”  You clear your throat.

He’s smiling.  “My hip will be fine in an hour.”

“I really don’t want you to put your clothes back on, but ...”  You both sigh as his clothes slither back into place.  “One minute for kissing, thirty seconds to take the towel back to the bathroom.”

“I’ll hear her coming.  Ten seconds for the towel.”

You use the time well.

* * *

May’s smiling slightly when she returns, even before she acknowledges your glance at Peter and thumbs-up.  “Building’s been sold.  Notice of new management.”  She and Peter trade looks.

Peter glances at the mail and laughs.  “Let me see that envelope.”  He takes out the letterhead from the management company.

You crane to see.  “TSInitiatives? That logo is … supervillainy for a real estate management company, and your building got bought a few days after your identity got revealed, should we call Happy and start running?  I have cash and a crappy fake ID and I know where we can get a burner phone.”  They seem to be taking this whole situation awfully lightly.  You still can’t sleep with all the lights from the new security gadgets in your own family’s apartment.

Peter squeezes your shoulder.  “It’s ok – this isn’t public, but it’s Pepper and Happy.  T.S., all right?”

“Peter, anyone who wanted to fool you would sign something with Tony’s initials and you’d believe it.”

He rolls his eyes.  “They told us.  And –”  He disappears into his room briefly, returning with a T-shirt.  “Tony designed this for me.  No one’s seen it except Pepper and Happy, it was a present when we finally got the web-fluid formula right but I never wore it to school.”

The shirt shows two beakers tilting over a large pot.  In the first, tiny gears and tools; in the second, numerous small squid squashed together; and in the pot, some robot-exoskeleton-covered squid thing: the real estate company logo.  Large letters proclaim TERTIUM SQUID.

You shake your head.  “I believe you, but this shirt makes me question your life choices.  Please never explain it.”

Peter looks up from skimming the letter to smile at you.  Ugh, those eyes are not fair.  He says to May, “They’re still vetting residents.”

She reads it herself, eyes narrowed, then looks up with a combination of steel and sly humor you’ve never seen on her before.  Wow.  You need to redraw her astronomy cow to be significantly more badass.  “They’ve softened it.  Not as much as I wanted.  But I’ve gotten everyone to join the new building Residents’ Association and vouch for their neighbors. People will not lose their homes because of Mysterio.”

“Wow, May.  Will that have any legal force, though?  If they own the building …”

“It might not be enough with any other owners.  But Pepper and Happy will listen to me.”  That steel again.  You almost shiver.  That.  When I grow up.  That.  It feels like, like … not like the moment you actually grabbed the mace (that was mostly terror, especially when you nearly dropped it), but the moment before, when you decided to.

Peter glances at you – did your breathing change?  Your heartrate?  “Never underestimate May’s vegan brownies.  We’ve been using them to butter up everyone in the building over the past few days.”  He gives you his blandly innocent face, and if his gesture happens to resemble what he used to trigger his suit’s remove function, well, that’s either happy coincidence or an entertainingly dangerous game he’s playing.

“Must’ve been just her today.  You were too busy getting battered, whipped and creamed.”  You raise your eyebrows at him for the last one, and add a helpful gesture when he looks confused, since May’s returned her attention to the letter.  His eyes widen and he flushes, then grins.

“Oh my god you two, just because dinner is pancakes!” May exclaims.  “Speaking of, Peter, no patrolling tonight.  Ned’s coming, you three can watch something awful, then go to bed.”

“May–”

“Nope.  Let the police do the job I pay taxes for them to do.  Eat, rest, heal.  If you all want to hang out on the roof, ok.  But this is a marathon, Peter, not a sprint.  Or a relay and this isn’t your time with the baton.  Whatever.  You hear me?”

Chapter Text

“Is Ned ok?”  He was quiet at dinner and went home after only two more episodes of Invader Zim.

Peter settles into the web-hammock and leans back against you.  “Not as Zen about breaking up as he pretends.”

You bend your legs around him to bring your feet into his lap.  “Hip ok?”

“All healed.”  He works your boots off and sets them out of the way.

You run your hands through his hair.  “Betty’s having feelings too.”

“Should we …”

“No.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”  He digs his thumbs into your arches; you sigh.  “Things got intense for them in Prague.”

You snort.

“No, I mean after.  In the hotel.  He said they, ah …”

“Yeah, Betty told me.”

“He was hoping I had a condom, or knew how to get one.  When he showed up in our – in my room, after I, uh, accidentally half-stripped for you –”

You scritch your fingernails lightly on his scalp.  He shivers and shifts his hips.  “I love that you think of that as our room and half-stripping for me instead of, I dunno, frantically changing into your suit to deal with Mysterio.  Also, I know, we talked after you bailed.  I showed him the stash in the bathroom.”

“There were condoms in there?  Man, that’s twice now, I have to start upping my investigations of fancy hotel rooms.”

“This is why you’re the superhero and I’m the one who figures things out.  Speaking of: I want to learn from their mistakes.”

He twists half around long enough to raise an eyebrow at you.  “Sex-shaming?”  Always protective of Ned.

“No – Betty said he was really sweet, and after almost dying they just – um.  Actually she said the second she got her door shut behind him she asked if she could take his bathrobe off.  Then she turned really red.”  You half-laugh.  “If we’d had a hotel room right off the Tower Bridge … eh, I’d’ve chickened out.”  He snickers and squeezes your foot affectionately.  “They were too much, you know?  Betty said she was drowning in syrup and she didn’t know how to stop except to really stop.”

Peter makes webbing between his hands and pulls it tight, hands barely an inch apart; you nod.  He rolls the webbing into a ball and tosses it into a corner.  “Ned’s flipping between missing her so much he can hardly talk about it, and being grateful for what they had but relieved they’re not jinxing themselves every thirty seconds.”

You put your hands over his, lacing your fingers together.  “I shouldn’t’ve called them ‘sentimental and corruptible’ the other night.  I just meant … I want us to last.”  You sigh, fiddling with his fingers.  He squeezes back gently.  “We could get too … too stuck, too.  I’m trying to accept all of you, but I can’t get pulled into nothing but worrying about you and dealing with identity-reveal crap and everything else that goes with Spider-Man.”

He kisses your fingers.  “Don’t forget wheedling me into web-swinging every chance you get.  It’s not all worrying.”

“Wheedling y– oh my god, loser, who gave me an entire Humane Society’s worth of puppy-dog eyes to get me to try web-swinging again?”  You tickle his ribs, but he flattens his hands over yours to keep your fingers still.  Okay, new game.  You stop trying to get your hands free and press them into him, tighten your legs around him, hold him close and let him feel you existing and breathing and heart-beating at him.  Let’s see how those super-senses like this.

It’s not long before he swallows.  “I can feel your pulse everywhere you’re touching me.”

You slowly slide your hands onto his chest, but stop below his nipples, remembering his gasps when you went there the other afternoon.  Even through his shirt, that had gotten oh god – MJ – MJ and then not – yet … but … when we’re ready … please … “Between worrying about you and swinging with you and, um, exploring … it would be so easy to spend all my time and energy on you, but … if I do that, we won’t last.  I was me before us, and I can either figure out how to be me with you, or else I’ll have to be me after you.”  You tighten your arms around him.  “And I really, really like you, so how to be me-with-you is on my mind, so … that’s why I’m talking about Ned and Betty.”

He breathes out a laugh.  “You had me totally distracted from them.”  You lean back into the hammock, and he relaxes against you.  “I don’t want this to be fleeting either.”  He sighs.  “I can relax and let the world fade with you like nobody else, and that’s great, but my mental health shouldn’t be on you.  If we both have to figure out how to do our mes together, maybe some of the figuring out can be together too.”

You go back to playing with his hair.  “Did you call the counselor?”

“Yeah, but not yours – Clint recommended one who’s worked with a lot of Avengers and Inhumans.”

“That’s cool. I didn’t think you two were that close.”

“He texted me yesterday.  ‘Re Europe next time ASK FOR HELP YOU DUMBASS KID, why do you think we all gave you our numbers, this life fucks you up enough without going it alone, I got a guy you’re gonna talk to, he helped me and he’ll help you IF you’re smart enough to talk to him before it gets bad.’”

“Wow.  So that’s what it’s like to get reamed by an Avenger.”

He sighs.  “Said he didn’t have Natasha anymore to yank him out of the dark and drag him to Sam, and Sam’s busy being Captain now anyway, and he knew I didn’t have Mr. Stark.”  He shrugs.  “We’ve all lost so much, can’t really make up for it but...  Sam’s texting me way more than he used to, just random memes, and I send Dr. Banner fun science stuff … Bucky sends me cookie recipes except the last one was goat’s-milk cheesecake? … I send Wanda puns and she’s teaching me Sokovian swear words…”

“I never knew her, but I had such a crush on Black Widow.”

“Who didn’t?  I know she knew - about mine –”

“Of course she did, you’re so obvious –”

“Shut up!”  He’s laughing.  Good.

“Does Black Panther know you –”

“Shut up!  Oh my god I can never introduce you to any of them!”

“It’d be just like May, they’d love me more.”

“Yeah, what were you two talking about while I was in the shower?  You got some … astronomy cow … thing … with my aunt?”

“Mm, you don’t get to know about that yet.”

He sits up suddenly.  “Oh!  We brought your sketchbook –”  He swings his legs out of the hammock, then stops.  “Uh – unless you really want me not to be part of it – this is just a random funny –”

You nudge him the rest of the way out.  “Show me your funny, dork.”

He hands you the sketchbook, a pencil, and a granola bar from his backpack.  You find a blank page past drawings you’re not ready to show him yet and pass everything back once he’s resettled himself against you.  He gives you half the granola bar.  “Close your eyes and gimme a few, I can’t draw very well.”

You shut your eyes.  “Queer Tango Collective meets every third Saturday of the month, beginners welcome.”

The pencil scratches across the page.  “That’d be great, but we should ask them first.  I’m a risk, now …”  The pencil stops.  “Sorry.  Don’t mean to sound bitter.”

Fucking Mysterio.  You sigh and kiss the top of Peter’s head.  “If you’re bitter, I’m gonna blame somebody all right, but not you.”

The pencil starts moving again.  A dissatisfied grunt.  Sounds of erasing, then more drawing.  “Even aside from that … I’m not sure I should be there.  I’ve stared at plenty of guys, but I’ve never even had a serious crush on one, you know?  Much less done anything.  I don’t know if I’m … enough.  Queer enough.  Bi enough.  Something.  Am I even anything?  Maybe I’m just straight but confused.”  He adds quietly, “I envy you for being so sure.”

You kiss his head again.  “You don’t have to have done anything, Peter.  You’re enough.  Whatever you are.  I mean, there’s days when I question whether I’m a woman –”

He chokes, but recovers quickly.  “Sorry, uh, wasn’t expecting that.”   You feel little movements in his arm, but there’s no sound of pencil on paper.  More like he’s flipping the pencil around and around.

Is his silence really dragging, or is it just you?  Your heartrate goes up –

He squeezes your knee.  “MJ, I’m gonna l- uh, really like –”  He stops.  Takes a breath.  “I’m gonna love you no matter what you figure out about that.  And – thank you.  For what you said for me, and for telling me – trusting me –”

You weren’t expecting to feel tears prickling your eyes.  You hadn’t been expecting to talk about this at all yet, if ever.  You curl forward, tightening your arms around him, bending down to bury your face in the side of his neck, and just breathe the scent of his skin.

He kisses your temple, then tilts his head to give you enough space.  “No peeking!”

You feel his shoulder moving under your cheek as he gets back to drawing.  “Boh, you could hear if I’d opened my eyes.”

“Right next to my ear like that, yeah.”

Now that you’ve brought it up, it’s a relief to get it out.  “I’m uh, I don’t know where I’m going with this?  Some days, I define woman, other people’s stereotypes aren’t my problem, I’m proud of who I am, I’m continuing this long line from my mom and her mother and her mother and I’m so grateful – ‘I’m my ancestors’ wildest dreams,’ you know?  Other days I’m like, how would I even define woman in a way that wouldn’t piss me off for its assumptions and exclusions? I get so over this gender-binary shit I can’t even.  But the only thing I’m totally sure of about my gender is I’m not a guy – so doesn’t that mean I do think the gender binary is a thing?  Am I really not a woman or am I just angry at sexism and misogyny?  Am I refusing to be stuffed into the wrong box or am I letting internalized misogyny make me reject a truth I should be proud of?  I don’t need to change my body, but I guess not everybody who doesn’t match their assigned gender does?  And I go around and around until I decide I’m not dealing with it anymore.”

He stopped drawing again partway through your brain-dump to stroke your hair.  “Sounds exhausting.  I don’t know the answers, or what questions to ask to help you, but I’ll listen to whatever you need to say.  Have you talked about it with your counselor?”  He laughs softly.  “You’re always so self-contained.  Hearing you this unsure about who you are – I don’t want you to be stressed, but, um, it’s kind of a relief to know I’m not the only one.  I’m … flattered?  Honored.  That you’re letting me see.”

You snort.  “Do you even remember how nervous I was trying to lie about liking you?  Or when I finally admitted it?  And I haven’t talked to her yet – just you –”  You shrug.  “Maybe eventually.”

He kisses your temple again.  “You ready for funny?  You sound like you could use funny.”

You lift your head and open your eyes.  “Funny me.”

He holds the sketchbook so you can see.  He’s drawn a graph.  The x axis is labeled “bovine food remaining in feeding trough,” except the first three letters are written larger and look like “B – V.”  The y axis is labeled “willingness of cows to follow cattle thief offering food.”  Every “data point” is a tiny cow.  The cows start in the upper left corner – little food left, high willingness to follow thief – and mostly meander down and to the right, becoming less willing to follow the thief the more food they have left.  A sizeable splotch of cows remains willing to follow the thief regardless, labeled “Giant cows!  Always hungry.”  A smattering of cows live down in the lower left corner: “Dwarf cows!  Always full.”

“Mmhmm.”

He uncovers the graph’s title: “Ta-da!  The Herdsprung-Rustle diagram!”

“Mmmm … hmm.”

“It’s an astronomy-cow pun?  Like a Hertzsprung-Russell diagram?  Herds?  And cattle rustlers?”

“Uh huh.”

“I could draw a big cow like a constellation and label it Moorsa Major?”

Side-eye.

“Uh, so!  There’s another girl in my life!  And I swing her, and she loves it.  And I’m, uh, gonna see her this weekend.  And probably every weekend this summer?  And we love each other and she’ll definitely be in my life long-term?  And her mother thinks I’m wonderful?”

You take the sketchbook and drop it carefully atop the backpack.  “Trying to distract me from the massive fail of your funny?  Didn’t work.  Also, don’t try to make me jealous, I have enough drama with all this fake-monster and superhero-boyfriend nonsense.  But if you gotta try, you’ll have to actually be untrustworthy.”  You tilt your head.  “See, since I trust you, I can skip the freak-out and figure out you mean … Morgan Stark.”

His jaw drops.  “No way!  How do you do that?”

“You flaunted it; there’s only one girl you could say those things about and yet be sure I wouldn’t be jealous; and you were just telling me you’re all trying to make up for who’s lost, and you only mentioned her mother …”

He sighs.  “Sheesh, I should just get Karen to print all my thoughts on the outside of my – what, no, Karen, I was joking, don’t – hey, wait, ‘superhero-boyfriend nonsense’?  Nonsense?”

“Who’s Karen?”

Chapter Text

“Uh, didn’t I tell you?  My suit has an AI.”

“There’s an AI listening to us all the time?  Gah, Parker, you couldn’t have said?”  Your voice rises and tightens.  “There’s lots of things I wouldn’t have done or said if –”  You made your dad get rid of Alexa and Siri after London, and you’ve been working your way through all the household appliances’ specs, which has not helped you feel safe – why does a famously hackable thermostat need a camera and microphone, seriously!  Do manufacturers not consider that someday their clients might be targeted by bad guys whose schtick is stealing super-AIs?

He scoots himself around in the hammock to face you.  “I’m sorry, MJ.  Um, Karen only listens when I talk to her.”

“Yeah, really?  Never heard that about voice-controlled AI before.  She obviously just reacted when you weren’t talking to her.”  Your skin crawls as you remember every recent disclosure and intimacy.  “Never heard of data breaches or people accessing Stark AI and using it to hurt you!” 

Peter winces.  “The EDITH thing was my bad judgment – she didn’t get hacked.  Karen runs self-diagnostics constantly, and Ned and FRIDAY check her.  EDITH’s locked out ’til we’re satisfied Mysterio didn’t install any back doors.”  He spreads his hands.  “No promises, that’d guarantee we meet a computer demon –”

“Are those a thing?”

“Uh, not that I know of?”  He scratches the back of his neck.  “She only wakes for her name or sudden stress or patrols.”  He hesitates, then says clearly, “Karen.  Turn all monitoring and recording off and go to sleep ... OK, she’s off.”

“Are you sure?”

A flash of exasperation crosses his face, followed by repentance.  “When you turn your phone’s location services off, are you sure it’s off?  When you tap to hang up, are you sure it hangs up?  She’s not Alexa; I know exactly what data’s taken and where it goes and how long it’s kept, and I can delete any of it.  She was constantly recording when Tony first gave me the suit, but that protocol’s gone, Ned and I made real sure.  We can show you exactly how it works.  Tony built this for me, and I trust Ned and my own abilities, and Karen’s a lifesaver.”  He blushes.  “I, uh, in the shower today ... there are times I also want to be sure Karen isn’t awake or recording, ok?  As long as I’m the one initiating it, remove turns her off by default.”

“Was she – uh – the other afternoon –”

“I turned her off when I got home.  I, uh, hoped there’d be reason to…  I should have told you about her then.”

You sigh and tap your fingers on your legs.  “Turn her back on.”

“You sure?”

“I don’t like it, but we’re not in your apartment surrounded by security.  Turn her back on.”

He does.  “Karen, if I’m incapacitated or unable to communicate, let MJ communicate with you and use the suit.”

You open your mouth to say What!? but stop.  If you’re around for circumstances like that … you rub your forehead tiredly.  Enough superhero-boyfriend nonsense for one evening.  “I’m going home.  I’m tired – we’re both tired.”

He holds up a finger: wait.  “Karen, text MJ so she can talk to you directly, tell her my location and medical condition any time she asks, and put her on the emergency notification list.  Er – is that ok, MJ?  Or is it getting pulled in too much?”

Your phone buzzes.  This is Karen.  Hi, MJ.

You shake your head.  “No, thank you.  It’ll help me not worry, actually.”

“Want me to swing you home?”

“Too tired.  Wouldn’t mind an escort, though.  You can tell me about the other girl.”

He smiles fondly as you make ready to leave.  “Not gonna introduce you to Morgan yet – she might be jealous and she needs stability right now – but you two are gonna forget me once you get to know each other.  She likes me to web her to my lap so we can hang out upside down on the ceiling and read to each other.  I can do Where’s My Cow? and The Book With No Pictures with my eyes closed, and you should hear her do the voices for Dinosaur vs. Santa.”  He giggled.  “Pepper doesn’t let Professor Hulk and me play catch with her anymore though.”

“What, did you throw a ball at her too hard?”

“Nnnnnooooo … she was the ball …”  He looks moderately guilty.   “She loved it, but Pepper yelled at us ’cause fifty feet was ‘too high.’  Made us stop playing slingshot and trampoline with her too …”

“You used a little kid as a trampoline??”

“No!  No!  I made one out of webbing – the slingshot too – Professor Hulk only has to bounce once and she goes really high … Wanda and Sam and Scott and I were all ready to catch her if she hadn’t come straight back down to him but, um, Pepper was still pretty mad.”

“Have you read her Rosie Revere, Engineer and Ada Twist, Scientist?  Might go over well with a kid of Tony’s.”

He looks surprised.  “When do you have time to know kids’ books in between Black history and political analysis?”

Oops.  “I’m just that awesome.”  You expect Peter to notice that’s a diversion, but he’s stopped cold in the middle of the sidewalk, staring open-mouthed at a huge mural on the building opposite you.

QUEENS KNOWS SPIDER-MAN.
QUEENS ♥ SPIDER-MAN.
WE GOT YOU PETER.

Oh.  Wow.

He reaches out blindly for your hand; you slip your arm around his waist and hug him tightly.

Flash.  From the alley next to the mural, across the street.

Fuck.  Of course some paparazzo hoped if they were patient they could get a reaction shot.  Why didn’t Peter sense –

By the time you flinch, Peter’s stepped between you and the street and four passers-by have surrounded the photographer.

“So, you’ve taken pictures you shouldn’t have.”  Something about that intonation –

“Hey, what – get your hands off me!”

“Son, we’re just trying to assist you with your camera.  Gosh, so complicated!  Look at all those buttons, that must be so hard, you’re lucky we found you.  See, here’s how’s you review pictures, and look, the delete button is right here.”

“I’m not gonna –”

Peter half-steps towards them, obviously thinking he should intervene – so help you if he apologizes to the paparazzo – you tighten your arm around him and mutter, “Stay.  Here.”  He fidgets but stays.

“No?  OK, I’ll take care of it for you.  Ouch, son, that wasn’t very nice, can you three please make sure he doesn’t accidentally kick me again?  Not very civic-minded of you.  Oh, look at all these pictures of Peter.  Are you a stalker, or in cahoots with one?  You do know he’s a minor, right?  This is really inappropriate.  I’ll have to press the delete button a whole bunch.”

Peter’s stopped fidgeting and is cocking his head.

“First Amendment –”

“Glad you brought that up, I do love our great country’s laws!  I bet you can’t quote it, can you? … No?  ‘Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press’ – I do encourage you to look the rest of it up on your own time.  Are you familiar with the wonders of the Internet?  It’s dandy!”

Peter’s staring across the street intently, muttering; all you make out is “Karen, compare…”

“Fuck y–”

“Language, son, please!  We’re not done helping you with your camera or your abysmal ignorance!  Even if you claim you’re press, we’re not Congress.  Or from the government at all, are we?  Not these days.  All done, here’s your camera back, undamaged, I’ll just hang it around your neck.  Hold him a moment – here – I’m going to take your picture now, do you mind?  Oh, you do?  Well, you don’t really have a leg to stand on, do you?  Morally speaking.  We’ll just put this up so everyone around here knows you, so if you come by again we’re ready to help you with your camera.  We’re a very close-knit and helpful community, we watch out for our own, there we go, thank you, looks just like you.  Now my new friends here are going to help you get safely out of the neighborhood, do have a pleasant evening, and don’t forget to educate yourself about our Constitution and Bill of Rights!”

The other passers-by escort the photographer away.  He doesn’t fight.  The talkative one, who does look rather old, turns to you slowly, tips his hat politely, and – winks at Peter?  Then he heads up the street, whistling, not hurrying.

You glance at Peter, who’s staring at the old man’s back as though he can develop telepathy if he squints hard enough.  “MJ, will you –”  He glances all around.  “Will you wait here?  I want to – to thank him.”

You roll your eyes.  “Obviously it’s more than that, but I’m down to skip further superhero-boyfriend nonsense tonight.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s not dangerous – uh – to us – I just – uh – this might be something I can’t tell you about?  Trust me?  Please?”

Hm.  He actually sounds serious.  “One minute, then I’m walking on, I am seriously tired.”

Peter promptly takes off after the old man.  They keep their conversation quiet.  Peter’s body language doesn’t fit a simple thank-you: hesitant, but intense; then half-unbelieving, clapping his hands over his mouth; then barely restraining himself from flinging his arms around the old man.  What the hell?

They speak a few more words, Peter nodding eagerly, then shake hands.  Not just a business-like shake, but one of those with both hands, hanging on and clasping and patting each other’s hands like dear friends.  The old man laughs, finally, and gives Peter a rough hug, then shoves him gently back in your direction and tips his hat again to you.  Peter’s wiping away tears as he walks back, but smiling hugely.

You raise an eyebrow.

He hasn’t looked this simply joyful since the night you swung around the Stark facility.  “I can’t tell you.  Not yet – I want to but I have to talk to him more – but it’s good, MJ, it’s so good!”  He looks at the mural again, back to the old man who’s now nearly out of sight, then back to you.  You'll never get tired of that smile.

He grabs your hand and you keep walking – well, you walk.  He practically skips.  He keeps twirling around you, or swinging around a lamp-post or bouncing a few feet up a wall and flipping off, but he always comes back to take your hand again.  It’s late enough the sidewalk isn’t crowded, but you get a lot of smiles.  He’s even singing – something bouncy about seagulls and coconuts with adorkable dance moves – you’re not asking.

Eventually he calms down.  Then he starts fidgeting with your hand and biting his lower lip.  After half a block of this you say, “Spit it out.”

“What?”

“Spider-Dork, I am too tired to mind-read.  What are you tempted-but-nervous about?  Asking me to sleep over?”

He trips over a crack in the sidewalk and nearly pulls you both down.  “What – how do you even – Karen, how does she do that?”

Your phone buzzes with a series of texts from the number you haven’t yet responded to.

I haven’t been listening to your conversation.  What did you mean by ‘that’?
Should I pay more attention to private conversations, or record a running sixty-second window to review when you wake me up?
I’m copying my responses to MJ.  I think she’d rather be included in conversations about the privacy protocol.

You grin.  Perhaps you and Karen can come to an understanding.

“Can I talk out loud to her?  Or do I have to text back?”

“Oh, god, no, you two do not get to gang up on me.”

I can hear you.  If it gets noisier, speak up or text.

“Well, Karen, he just gets shocked when I guess what he’s thinking.  I bet you can figure out how I do it.”

Close observation of vocal tone, hesitations, word choice and body language, plus contextual knowledge.
I do the same.
Many of these characteristics have a higher signal-to-noise ratio in Peter’s communication than the average in my reference database.
Perhaps we could compare observations.
My learning algorithms are quite advanced, but another expert viewpoint might enhance my processing.

“Oh god, oh god, what have I done?”

“Asked her to weigh in on exactly this.  She’s just saying you’re obvious.”

“I know what she’s – thank you, Karen, don’t change the privacy protocol, we can talk about it later, for now will you please go back to it?”  He mutters something darkly.

“So … you were seriously gonna ask me to sleep over?  ’Cause I was just messing with you.”

“I started thinking about it when you were telling me –”  He lowers his voice.  “About your gender – I don’t mean to act like it’s shameful, you were just clear it was private – anyway when I missed Ben or Tony so bad I couldn’t sleep, May rubbed my back or sat there with her hand on my shoulder - I want you to fall asleep getting held, I want you to feel that safe and loved.  And I know finding out about K- my AI creeped you out so I want to make up for that.”  He smiles, a little shy.  “Also it sounds so relaxing, and this evening has turned out so awesome I don’t want it to end … umm …”  He finishes in a rush, “And I took my clothes off for you twice today and even though there were other reasons now that everything’s stopped hurting I can’t stop thinking about it and I, uh … maybe you shouldn’t sleep over.  I’d respect our boundaries, it would just be, uh …”

“Hard?  Doesn’t take advanced learning algorithms to finish that joke.”  He grins.  You pull him into the lobby of your building.  “C’mere.”  There’s probably nowhere outside your apartment not covered by security cameras, but at least the lobby’s empty of actual people.  You put your arms around his shoulders, let him slide his around your waist, and hold him, murmuring into his hair.  “I’d love to fall asleep spooning.  I love all your reasons.  But I’ve let down a lot of barriers with you this week.  I need to recharge.  Curl up alone with a book, flip off anyone who disturbs me, take no emotional risks for twenty-four hours.  It’ll happen.  Just not tonight.”

“Okay.”  He rests his head on your shoulder.  “Can I snuggle you before I go?”

“I’m telling the whole world you’re secretly a kitten.”

“Okay.”

“I’m changing your name in my phone to Spider-Kitten.”

“Okay.”

“I’m telling Karen to hack into your nanite protocols so next time they form the suit it’s got kittens all over it.”

“Okay.”

“I’m publishing an open letter to supervillains called ‘Top Ten Ways to Lure Spider-Kitten to His Doom’ and all ten will be ‘kittens.’”

“O- hey, no, kittens might get hurt.”

“Thank you for not being all drama-angsty that I’m not coming over tonight.”

He smiles against your neck.  “Oh noes, maybe she doesn’t really like me, what have I done, gotta make it all about my feeeeeeeeelings so she has to come over to make me feeeeel better.”

“Boh.”  He snickers.  You nudge his head up with your shoulder.  “Kissing is up here, Spider-Kitten.”  You take your time.

Eventually he pulls back and sighs happily.  “That was a ‘relax and go to sleep’ kiss, wasn’t it?”

“Seemed kinder than a ‘get you so bothered you swing face-first into a building on the way home’ kiss.”

“Those are a thing?  Wow.  I feel like it would be worth it just to find out what one of those is like.”

You grin and push him towards the door.  “Go.  Knock on May’s wall, text me, go to sleep.”

* * *

ksjdfhskjf

uh

you broke karen

??

sending you a log file
bc she says if i dont she will
“it will be good for you emotionally”
<<ohgodwhy.txt autodisplay = true>>
        gestural_input [clothes2suit; web(right)]
        reconfig suit_pattern = kittens
                reconfig_auth = voice(“okay”, ID = Peter_Parker, duress = false)
        initiate clothes2suit
        initiate web(right, config = default)
        audio_input = voice(words = [null], nonword = screaming, ID = Peter_Parker)
        run medcheck
                medcheck_result_summary = [injuries(none), vitals(HR, BP elevated)]
        run threatcheck
                threatcheck_result = none
        audio_input = voice(“karen what the f”, ID = Peter_Parker)
        audio_input = environmental(collision)
        pressure_input = suit(sectors = all_ventral)

can humans pull muscles laughing bc i just did

i hate you

i love karen

i made her fix it

<<dailybugle.net: Spider-Man Tries to Escape Consequences with New Kitten Look.png>>
<<youtube.com: kitten-spider-man faceplants side of building wtf>>
not fast enough
i love the internet
you ok?

IM FINE
THANK YOU FOR ASKING
imma sleep now
ALONE
got the building to the face didnt even get the kiss first :(((

imma text karen
ask her to make your suit soft and furry
like a kitten
you could cuddle it

ljdsjhakj i wanna be like i hate you but that actually sounds oh wait
yes found my hello kitty pjs
from tony v fuzzy

…do you have any OTHER deep secrets I need to know

no i think thats it

goodnight spider-kitten

i hate you

no you dont

no i dont

Chapter Text

imma get an iud

you
what
wow ok yes?
i mean your body so of course
i thought you were on emotional risk hiatus

re-reading of human bondage
got pissed at slut-shaming mildred
theyre good for 5 yrs
so true were not rushing
but it aint gonna be 5 yrs

asdkjh just almost faceplanted another building
omg the suit hides NOTHING
imma just…crouch on this roof a couple minutes nbd

told you id tell you when ;p
nervous tbh
my mom keeps alternating btw “I promise the worst pain only lasts like 30 seconds”
“goes down to like just a really bad period soon as theyre done”
“in a few hours it’s not that bad”
“next day it’s nearly fine”
“ill go with you you can grab my wrist as tight as you need to”
“ill help you walk out to the car after”
“you can spend the afternoon on the couch”
“ill make you pineapple-basil granita”
and “TOTALLY WORTH IT THO”
“I BASICALLY DONT NOTICE MY PERIODS NOW”
thanks mom freakin me out here

um wow i had no idea
i will totally wear condoms
i dont want you doing a hurting thing cause you felt pressured
oh wow bet i could make my suit nanites make a condom

yeah but you don’t wanna be throwing those away
the nanites i mean
(also spider-kittens couldnt pressure me if they tried)
(tho I appreciate theyre trying not to)

self-cleaning

NO DETAILS
still tho condoms have a higher failure rate

if imma design a self-deploying nanite condom imma definitely solve that problem

so white boy with the $$$uit
you gonna design condoms only you can use
or you gonna make this accessible
cheap, lotsa anatomical variations

yeah youre right
ok new lab design project for this summer

matching skin tone, clear or neon rainbow : )
while youre at it
design self-deploying iud
nanites in a tampon applicator kind of thing
shouldn’t hurt
wont take trained personnel to insert
so faster cheaper better
also ignorable periods would be nice if that worked
better use of tech and r&d time than fancier pew-pew

can’t decide if i love you more for your practical mind
and pushing me to think bigger and better
or for calling tonys life work fancier pew-pew

pushing you to think bigger and better?
counting balance of ideas here
you: nanite condoms (1)
me: like 10
…

damn ok sorry you’re right
imma tell pepper your name is on all the patents
and first on the iud ones
tonys face wouldve been rly funny
if he heard fancier pew-pew
imagining how conversation btw you two would go
askjhladhjdf
crap i miss him but im still giggling

sneezing iron socks wouldve hurt i bet
fyi I could have pwned daddy warbucks
but if you ever pull any more “I love when you [cutesy reframing of a badass thing I did]” shit
…

i see your … and im determined to never make you fill it in
pls no more ‘daddy warbucks’ tho
i get it and the burn on tony ok fair
but the orphan thing for me isnt a joke

FUCK IM SORRY
only aiming that at tony
wasnt thinking of the rest at all
really sorry

sokay i know you didnt mean it like that
anyway
was gonna offer to go with you for the iud insertion
let you grab MY wrist
seemed only fair
plus if i took care of you all afternoon maybe id get pineapple basil granita too ; )
but if you can wait for design and testing…?
can we work together on it
I know nano engineering/programming isnt your thing
but the ideas are yours

i wouldve wanted you there but hello paparazzi magnet
would not end well
“spidermans girlfriend arrested for cutting a bitch at planned parenthood”
“michelle jones arrested for jailbreak + cutting headline writer who reduced her to SMGF”
and yeah you put in the hours working out details
i will consult

ok
you know iud doesnt protect vs STIs

yes spidersplainer
if i ever do someone sexually riskier than my previously-virgin highly trustworthy bf
by that time the nanodom should be ready

ok no
because thats either a nanoscale condom
or a lego figure with a riding crop

wow i know what im getting you for your birthday
ok back on emotional risk hiatus now
and a different book
no disturbing!

* * *

binders

yes ok sure what

you must have figured out strength vs stretch
in your webs
i saw your secret messes in chem class
by which i mean the drawer with your splody beaker

IT NEVER EXPLODED

mm

much

anyway i know you can make webs with a sticky end
but not sticky all along em
otherwise the hammocks would be a disaster
so: better binders
disposable, disappear in 8-10 hrs
another patent for me
ok back to homegoing

* * *

prosthetics that mold themselves to the stump
replacement organs that self-assemble in situ
self-assembling tailpipe filters so i can spend my afternoons tagging cars
tagging big-ass factory chimneys will be your job
ok back to difficult women

* * *

pepper wants to offer you an internship can I give her your number

nah im good

youre saying no to a stark internship????? O_O  x_x

ideas = me, hours in lab wrangling details = you
tho tell her we should have lunch
i wanna talk about diversity in their supply chain
employment conditions
minimizing environmental impact of making all this stuff

tomorrow ok?

yep
ok back to land where other people live

* * *

sorry to disturb, know i might get flipped off but
i should have asked earlier: binders?
is that a thing you want? i mean for you
cause you know i wanna support you
PUN INTENDED NOTSORRYNOTSORRY
uh wait unless this is emotional risk territory
k sorry never mind

no its fine spiderkitten
was just washing my hands nbd
and: i don’t think so?
i dunno vaguely curious might try one sometime
but whatever my gender mess is its in my head not my body
im actually fine with my body
thank you for asking tho : )
ok back to hidden figures

oh yeah janelle monáe was really good in that

she was but i mean the book

you read so much
youre so cool
THATS JUST THE WAY YOU MAKE ME FEEL
now thats gonna be stuck in my head all afternoon

* * *

lmao
<<youtube.com: Spider-Man Feels “Powerful With A Little Bit Of Tender” Webbing Mugger To Wall>>

IT WAS STUCK IN MY HEAD OK

you can actually sing
who knew

only for you

me and everybody else with an internet connection

ugh i hate my life

no you dont

no i dont : )

hmm

you hmming makes me nervous

#isspidermanbi is trending

uh
welp
guess i do suck at keeping secrets
no wait no i dont i dont even know what i am
ugh cant come out if i dunno what im coming out as

bi or pan if it feels right
or fluid or queer or ‘i hate labels’
plenty of ppl come out that way
or dont come out at all if youre not ready

feel like i should tho? pretty sure straight isnt it
ned doesnt stare at guys like i do
huh he did have a thing about how hulk smells

BRAIN BLEACH

* * *

karen
do i have to text your name to wake you up?

Hi, MJ.  No, I’ll always notice when you call or text.

ok cool
can you change what peters suit looks like again

Not without his permission.

ok tell him you want to make it look like janelles pants in Make Me Feel
the ones with the back pocket
can you let me know how that goes?

<<audio file WHATNOKARENDONTMAKEMYSUITSEETHROUGH send_auth = voice(“oh fine”, ID = Peter_Parker, duress=false)>>
Interesting.  When I made the suggestion, his heart-rate went up rapidly.
And as you can hear, his vocal pitch and loudness indicated sudden panic.
But now he’s smiling, and his heart-rate and blood pressure are lower than before.

* * *

you put karen up to that

baby don’t make me spell it out for you

omg sfjadhgfjf

* * *

karen are you conscious?
super not ok if peter has a slave in his suit

I am not.
I use “I” for efficiency and because Peter responds better to a perceived personality.
But Mr. Stark became leery of designing actual consciousness into AIs.

so do you have a gender?

No.

so stark made a genderless, non-conscious AI
to assist, encourage and comfort peter
and gave it a female-presenting voice?
of course he did

Peter responds well to my voice.
His trust is essential to his optimal use of the suit, which is ideal for both his effectiveness and his safety.

yeah but perpetuates “women in support roles”

I have seen little evidence that Peter conceives of women primarily in supporting roles.

he support-roled me earlier
didn’t even realize til i called him on it
to be fair hes usually super respectful

He greatly admires his aunt, Ms. Potts, Ms. Maximoff, Captain Danvers and Shuri, for example.
He respected and liked Agent Romanov and learned well from her.
I don’t see a pattern in him of discomfort with or resentment of women who have power, authority or competence.

yeah ok true
im just on edge about it
the whole respect and power and misogyny thing
bc of the dating thing
esp dating a superhero when im not
theres a power imbalance there i can never overcome
i love him but it bugs me
even if his intentions are good
hes just always gonna be more
doesnt help that all societys assumed or historical imbalances go the same way between us
well except height : )
id like to forget that shit but
so tired of feeling like i have something to prove
waiting for judgment
and i call him loser and all but
FUCK
cant believe i just spilled all this to MY BOYFRIENDS AI

I have no subjectivity to judge you.
Is it privacy that concerns you?  Are you afraid I’ll reveal this information to Peter?

well yeah
i mean supervillains
computer demons
blah blah hacking blah
but yeah mostly that

My overriding priority is Peter’s well-being: immediate and long-term physical and mental health and happiness.
Your relationship is very good for him – now and I predict in the long term.
He needs trusting relationships to balance the betrayals and cruelty he’s already seen and will see.
Your relationship with him will be impaired if you don’t trust me.
So I need to earn your trust.
I can’t promise I’ll never tell him what you’ve divulged.
But I’d do so only to protect him.

so youll respect my privacy only to serve peter
and your only interest in me is how our relationship is good for him

I’m describing my constraints, goals and likely decisions as clearly as I can.
Transparency is the only strategy that could earn and keep your trust.
I’m not a person.
I do have a system of ethics including concepts of respect and privacy, but protecting Peter ranks higher.
If you fear me telling him, tell him yourself.
Then you’ll have no reason to fear me.
Consider: how likely is it that no portion of your consciousness knew what you were saying and to whom?

hmm
good talk

* * *

i know we had this big privacy talk like only an hour ago but
if hes ever seriously hurt
and you cant get in touch with me
or if something happens to me
then tell him i said i love him
please

I will.

Chapter Text

You meet Ms. Potts at Tamarind.  “Peter said you’d declined the internship.  We’ve never had that happen before.”  She smiles.  “We’ve also never offered one to someone who hadn’t applied.”

You shrug.  “I can science with the rest of the Midtown dorks, but I don’t long to spend my life in a lab.”

“What are you doing at a STEM school, then?  Peter said you read a lot and draw really well.”

“Trying to understand the world.  School’s hopeless for humanities – we learn about ‘manifest destiny’ but never read Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee?  Please.  But they’re good at STEM.”

“Once you decide where you’re going to college, we’ll fund it.”

You say stiffly, “I don’t want money just because Peter’s my love slave.”

She snorts.  “Superhero love slaves, there’s a mood.”  She glances down, smile faltering briefly.

You don’t know her well enough to offer any comfort.  You hope your face and posture convey some sort of restrained, respectful sorry-for-your-loss impression.  Will this be you someday?

Ms. Potts goes on before you have time to dwell.  “Plenty of idiots said I only became SI’s CEO because of my relationship with Tony, even though I’d been running everything non-tech for years.  I earned a chance and I’ve proven myself ten times over.  And you – how many people could have led their academic decathlon team to a national championship, figured Spider-Man out, gone after a killer drone armed with nothing but a mace, AND led a grassroots PR effort for a slandered superhero?  Then provided enough ideas for Peter’s suit tech to justify multiple eventual production lines?  We were already chasing some of those ourselves, but you couldn’t have known.”

You take a breath.  “Whichever were original to me, I’m only giving you permission to develop them if you meet my conditions.”

Ms. Potts smiles – not condescendingly, more as if she’s just won a mental bet – and raises an eyebrow.

“Either sell at-cost, or use profits in developed nations to fund free or below-cost sales in developing countries.  Show me your hiring and compensation practices are equitable, or if white guys are getting more then show me how you’re fixing it.  Development has to include planning to minimize environmental impact of production and distribution –”

Ms. Potts holds up a hand to stop you.  She’s flat-out grinning.  “Take the internship.  It wasn’t an offer to intern with Peter under Dr. Banner – he’s taken over –”  Another flash of loss, another moving-on.  “It’s an internship with me.   Your first project would be dealing with all these concerns to design an agreement we’re happy with - you, SI, and your lawyer.”

You raise an eyebrow yourself.  “The CEO of Stark Industries has time for an intern?  A high-school kid on summer break is doing all this for her first project?  Really?”

“You won’t spend much time with me directly.  Rotating stints with mentors in HR, Facilities, Planning, Legal, plus time with Peter and Bruce – we’ll sort out details.  But if Tony could find time for Peter, I’ll find time for you.  And ‘dealing with’ doesn’t mean ‘in charge of.’  I’m just – look, did Peter ever talk to you about his future with SI?”

“Uh, just that he’s really stressed about trying to take Tony’s place.”

Ms. Potts sighs.  “I wish he’d talk to me instead of worrying he’ll disappoint everyone if he shows a moment of weakness.  Bah.  Well, I’ll put Bucky on midnight cookie-baking detail again this weekend, that worked last time.”

You blink.  “The … Winter Soldier …”

“Dark chocolate chip with ground clove and orange extract.  I’ve seen Peter eat two dozen in fifteen minutes.  Anyway: between Peter and Morgan, I have a multi-decade supply of potential tech geniuses.  But I need people who don’t have their heads buried in R&D to watch our big picture.  We have so much power – I need people who’ll keep asking how we’re using it.  It would be foolish for SI and for you to lock you into a specific future, but an internship and a scholarship is a small investment for us with a potential big payoff.”  She shrugs.  “Spend a summer with us.  You’ve earned that.  If you like the kinds of changes you can see yourself making, stick around.  If not, you’ll at least have the experience and a recommendation letter from me.”

“Paid.”

“Of course.  And to save you asking, yes, the same as Peter.”

“I can only do afternoons.”  This isn’t how conversations between a potential high-school intern and a CEO usually go, is it?  On those numerous occasions when CEOs talk to interns?  “Uh, I already have a morning commitment.”

“We know.  Antoine spoke well of you.”  She sees your narrowed eyes.  “Happy was assessing risk after Mysterio; we weren’t digging.”

Your nostrils flare, but you nod.  “Are the kids safe?  Do I need to stop working there?  Why didn’t you talk to me?”

“We keep an eye on the place.  Happy thinks the additional risk there is minimal and manageable.  And Antoine insisted we say nothing because he didn’t want you to quit.  He said that other than all the kids now calling people dorks, you’ve been a great influence.”

You don’t try to hide your grin.  One last hesitation, though.  “What happens to the internship or the college funding if Peter and I …”  You don’t really want to say it.  You just need to know how enmeshed you’re risking getting.

Ms. Potts looks you in the eye.  “Nothing.  I hope you two are happy together for a long time.  But I’ve been the ‘normal’ partner of an Avenger.  I’m not going to pressure you about it or retaliate if it’s not in the cards.  This is your life and your opportunity.  As long as you’re professional at work, by which I mean no snogging in the supply closets if you’re together and no sniping if you’re not, we’re fine.”

“Snogging in the supply closets?”  Hmm.  New life goal?

“Steve and B- well, never mind.”

Steve – Captain America, of course.  So, you’ve got detention …  Wait.  So, you’ve taken pictures you shouldn’t have … civic-minded … in cahoots … our great country’s laws ...  You feel your eyes widening and your jaw slowly dropping.

Ms. Potts looks amused.  “Grown men are allowed to snog.  Consensually.  Which they definitely – never mind.”

You nearly blurt out what you just – maybe – realized, but Peter did feel it needed to be really secret.  You need to change the subject fast.  “I, uh, I know you must still be developing weapons, because Mr. Stark kept upgrading the Iron Man suits.  I don’t want to be involved in that.”

Ms. Potts nods slowly.  “No problem keeping you out of the fancier pew-pew – thanks for that phrase, I could’ve annoyed Tony with it no end.”  She smiles briefly and digs into her chimbori jalwa.  “But if you stay with us, someday I’ll ask you to know that part – the business side.  To ask those history and philosophy and ethics questions, because if any part of SI needs someone who thinks like that to keep an eye on it, it’s that.”

You’re not sure what to say – become part of the system that produces weapons, are you kidding me?? seems obvious, but her seriousness makes that feel too hostile.

She sees your reservations.  “Howard Stark built SI to keep the weapons in ‘the right hands.’  Tony shifted our focus reacting to one of the times that went wrong, but most of what he did was for the same reason.  If we didn’t have aliens and gods and assholes trying to destroy us every second Tuesday, I’d be a pacifist in a heartbeat.  But all life in the universe wouldn’t be here now if not for Tony’s work.  The weapons made the money that made everything else possible; developing the early weapons let us develop the later weapons; and we can’t stop because we’d be fools to assume the universe will leave us alone now.”  She sighs.  “Both times I killed someone, I was acting both in self-defense and to keep power in the right hands.  I wasn’t comfortable with it either time and I’m not now.  But keeping my hands clean would’ve meant Tony’s death and power in the wrong hands.”

“I picked up the mace,” you say quietly.  “If there’d been anything higher-tech handy, I’d’ve taken it.  And if Mysterio had been there when I got to the bridge, if he’d been about to hurt Peter even more, I’d’ve –”  You stop.  “Peter wouldn’t have though, would he?”

Her smile is twisted – sad, fond, proud.  “I don’t know what the right answers are.  But turning away from the questions can’t be it.”  She puts her fork down and stands.  “I have another meeting.  Take your time, have dessert, get take-out to share with your bottomless-pit boyfriend, it’s all on me.  You’re accepting the internship, this time.”

It’s not a question.  You nod anyway, then blink when you realize you didn’t even consider Peter in making your decision.

“Good.  We’ll get you the paperwork.  For that and the scholarship.”  She shakes your hand again with a smile.  “Welcome.”

“The ethics of weapons development and control can be my second internship project – say fall semester?  Done by Christmas?”

She rolls her eyes and is gone.

Chapter Text

Frilly and pink isn’t usually your thing, but Moron #2794 had just condescended to you when the Hollywood Reporter requested a profile on “Spider-Man’s Girlfriend and SI’s next CEO’s Boyfriend” before the tenth-anniversary Stark biopic’s release.  You said fine, but only if they put you on the cover in something pink and gossamer with sashes, bows, pointless ruffly bits and blatant boobs and the interview included a comparison of SI’s and Hammer Industries’ ethics, environmental sustainability, employee satisfaction, product ratings and stock price.  Pepper grinned and called you her young padawan when you showed her the email.

Take that, Justin.

It’s gotten harder to make Peter blush in the eight years since your first kiss, but the torso cut-out on the cover-photo dress does the trick.  After the first delighted eye-widening, he keeps his eyes off you so resolutely that the interviewer purrs, “Trouble in paradise?”  You smile and say, “That faraway look means he’s either having our next billion-dollar idea or imagining me taking off this dress.”  The interviewer blinks; Peter coughs, crosses his legs and turns even redder; and you just keep smiling.

When you come back out of the dressing room – now they’ve got you in matching checked button-down shirts, because they’ve never heard of subtlety – the interviewer’s smile tells you she hasn’t forgiven you.

“So, Michelle, word is you’re being groomed to eventually succeed Pepper Potts.”

“I wouldn’t count Pepper out any time soon.  Of course like any good leader she’s thinking ahead and trying to give many people the experiences they need to grow.  I’m grateful for all I’ve learned from her as a boss.”

“Are you saying you aren’t her successor?  SI does have a tradition of its CEO being, ah, recruited via a relationship with its main inventor, after all.”  Wow, when did the Hollywood Reporter start trying for hard-hitting journalism?

You paste a bright smile on and turn to Peter in faux delight.  “Darling!  I think she just implied that Pepper and I both slept our way to the top!”

“You’ve been called a pretty face with a special-snowflake degree –”

“Justin Hammer will just have to accept that he’ll never look this good and I will never draw him his own personal astronomy cow.  Seriously, he was your source prepping for this interview?  We can give you better ones.”

“Ah, nevertheless, his point that the stockholders have a right to wonder if a liberal-arts degree and a cutesy art series, however much money it’s raised for children’s literacy programs, really qualify you –”

“Well, one liberal arts degree wouldn’t have, I couldn’t fit all the courses I wanted into four years.  Two, though?”  Maybe you can get this interview onto a better track.  She’s a professional reporter, she ought to understand …  “I petitioned to create my own majors exactly because I wanted to prepare for this career.  I’m not a scientist or a techie.  My job is to understand how all the little stories add up to the big picture and what to do about it.  So I focused on journalism, cultural anthropology and organizational psychology for my bachelor’s to give myself tools to discover individual and organizational stories, then combined American civil- and labor-rights history, economics and philosophy for my master’s.  I kept working at SI for Pepper part-time throughout, focused on SI for all my academic projects, and transitioned to full-time as soon as I was done.  The shareholders are welcome to see my performance reviews.  Justin Hammer is welcome to ki…keep his jealousy to himself, it’s not a good look.”

Peter sighs and leans his head on your shoulder sadly.  “How come no one ever asks if I’ve slept my way to the top?  I’m Spider-Man, I got moves.”

The interviewer clears her throat.  “So, Peter, how does it feel being the next Iron Man?”

“I’m not.  I’m Spider-Man.  Stepping into Tony’s suit – either literally or metaphorically – that’s a lot of weight, you know?  I can stand up better without it.  I loved Tony and I honor the memory of what he did, but let’s stop looking for the next world savior.  Retire the jersey.  Keeping the world safe and making it better is up to all of us.”

Classic Peter: distract with snark, invite an attack, respond unexpectedly.  You don’t love giving interviews, but tag-teaming with Peter when a reporter is looking for trouble is a familiar hobby.  She’ll go for you next.

Peter waits until the interviewer starts to turn back to you.  “Actually, Pepper and MJ are continuing Tony’s work as much as I am.  He was brilliantly inventive, but his biggest impact was what he did with his tech.  I’m honored to be part of continuing his vision, but it’s not all about me.”

“Iron Girls?”  Smirking.

Sigh.  So much for getting along better.  “Iron rusts, we’re adults, and I’m agenderflux, so: no.”

Wham, that was a brick wall I just ran into, says the interviewer’s face.  “You’re, um, you’re what?  Would you like to explain that further?”

It’s almost tempting, but you don’t need this slightly-hostile person to get your message out.  “Nah, not feeling it right now, thanks.  I’ve explained myself enough today.  Next question?”

“So what’s Tony and Pepper’s daughter’s path here?  Are you two displacing her at her parents’ own company?”

Peter laughs.  “Have you met Morgan?  No one displaces her from where she wants to be.”

“And that’s not at SI?”

“She’s fourteen.  If she ever wants a place, MJ and I will hardly try to keep our little sister out.  But she’s pretty firm about living her own life.  I think it’s healthy – I get enough ‘next Iron Man’ stuff without being his biological kid.”

“Speaking of that, there’ve always been rumors –”

For the first time, Peter looks honestly annoyed.  “No.  Move on.”

“Uh … Michelle, what’s the sweetest thing Peter’s ever done for you?”  Either a peace offering or she ran out of Real Journalist questions.

You smile.  “I’m not going to tell you the sweetest thousand things, but somewhere below that is the first birthday present he got me, our first summer together.  He got me the ‘Women of NASA’ Lego set and insisted I got to build the whole thing myself – wouldn’t let Ned touch it.  The next day the Dr. Mae Jemison figure had glitter on the M and the J in her name and Peter had glitter under his fingernails.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet!”

“I never knew you figured it out!” Peter says, affronted.  “You never said anything.”

“I wanted to see if you’d keep putting glitter on more things if I kept quiet.  Then I, uh, forgot I hadn’t.  You had glitter in your hair too.”

“How was it watching Peter – Spider-Man – fight those robot alligator things last week?  Were you scared?”

Time for another brick wall.  You smile.  “Oh, I didn’t.”

“You – but what if he’d died?”

“Then I hardly would have wanted to watch it, would I?”  Peter moves his leg against yours a little.  He probably heard you gritting your teeth.  “Look, in the last month alone, besides those crocodile robots, get it right, he’s stopped a bank robbery, a kidnapping attempt, and something in the sewers with - you know what, never mind, I’d like to forget that one, he stunk for three days afterwards.  I can’t gnaw my knuckles in front of the TV every time he’s out heroing, I’d have no fingers left and get nothing done.   He tells me about his day afterwards, invented this, beat up that, I tell him about mine, then we put it aside.  If something awful happens, I’ll find out soon enough.”

Peter rolls his eyes.  “Yeah, my suit AI will tell her and all my other nannies.”  He nudges you.

You nudge back.  “You’re the one who wrote the DisasterSpi notification protocol.”

“DisasterSpi?”

“Yeah, because I’m like the OG disaster bi?  I mean, plane crashes, having to leave the girl I liked on the dance floor so I could stop her alien-tech-smuggling dad and ruin the rest of her high school life, um, exploding buses and me being on fire on the Tower Bridge, crocodile robots, you’re right let’s not talk about the sewer thing …”

“Super awkward flirting with the next girl you liked,” you add.  “Epically awkward.”

“Shut up,” he says, grinning.

“Dropping her the first time you took her web-swinging,” you sigh, shaking your head.

“You dropped her?”   The interviewer has the grace to look horrified.  You grin.

“Yeah, it wasn’t my best move,” Peter says.  “But dealing with it was really good for us.  I even put ‘no dropping MJ’ in my vows.”

Ooooh, Peter can put brick walls out there too.  Of course, Pepper’s gonna kill him for not giving the PR department a heads up, if you don’t get him first.

“Your v- you’re married?”

Peter looks like he just realized what he said.  You sit up straight and smile happily to take her attention off him.  “Yep.  Two years ago.  I decided it was about time someone made an honest man out of him, and King T’Challa wasn’t stepping up.”

Peter and the interviewer both sputter.  There’s a clamor of overlapping “I don’t – I wasn’t – MJ!!” and “Spider-Man and Black Panther!?”  Pepper is either going to die laughing or kill you both when this piece comes out.  No doubts about Shuri and T’Challa’s reactions, though.  Even Okoye might crack a smile.

Oh well.  Why stop now?  “Yeah, Shuri’s been helping us design the incubator for the twenty or thirty clone-children we’re planning among the three of us.  There’s legal questions about the Wakandan succession to sort out before we proceed, of course.”

Peter’s pulled himself together.  “Don’t forget the robot children.”  He gives the interviewer a soulful look.  “I guess in this way I will be following Tony’s footsteps.”

The interviewer goggles.  “Morgan Stark is a robot?”

Wow, that escalated fast.  You nod serenely.  “That’s why you never see pictures of her swimming,” you improvise.  “Tony never solved all the problems with the expandable skin-covering, so when she gets submerged her left leg shorts out.  She likes to wade and splash around so we listen for the ‘bzzt!’ and then say that’s far enough.”  Morgan’ll love this.  Ten to one she fakes shorting out next time Peter throws her in the pool.

The interviewer looks back and forth between you, then says, “No.  You’re pulling my leg.”

“Probably,” you say cheerfully.  Pepper would remind you not to totally alienate any reporter unless they’ve been far more awful than this one, though, so you relent.  “Not about being married.”

“That’s real,” Peter says softly.

“Yeah,” you say, intertwining your fingers with his.  “That’s real.”

- FIN -