Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

February 14th, 2026 

She feels so heavy, like waking up from a nap you definitely shouldn’t have taken. Her mouth is thick, her eyes are laden. It’s so bright, her bedroom is never this bright. She fidgets looking for Peter’s arm, her morning routine. Has he gone on patrol already? He usually leaves a note and she can’t find one. Moving her arm around a bit more, there’s sudden pain in her shoulder and she breathes in sharply. 

“Michelle, baby, take it slowly” Is that her mum? Why is she here? What’s going on? Where’s Peter?

“Okay, easy does it, sweetheart. Just try and focus on one thing and it will be okay” Dad? Why does he sound so nervous? Is he crying? Where’s Peter?

Her eyes finally focus and flit around the room, Mum, Dad, May? Tony? 

Where is Peter?

She tries to speak but it doesn’t come out, how long was she asleep? Her mouth tastes horrible.

“Water, please.” She manages to gasp out. Her mum clasps her hands together and her eyes water, like she’s just managed to walk for the first time or something. 

Taking her eyes off of her mum’s she manages another look around the room, “am I in the hospital? Where’s Peter?” Her mum’s watery eyes turn hard and her dad looks murderous.

Tony speaks first, “Michelle. Do you remember anything at all?” Remember what? Why is everyone so scared? Where is Peter?

“Is Peter okay? Is he alive? Where is he?” She can hear herself getting frantic.

“He’s alive, sweetie.” May says heartbrokenly and holds onto Michelle’s hand. Okay, so that’s good. He’s alive. He’s probably asleep. Or in his own bed. That’s fine.

“He left.” She hears her Dad say, but she must have misheard him. Left where? Left her? As if. 

“What?” She’s calm, Peter wouldn’t leave her. Not while she’s in the hospital. He loves her. She loves him. They’re it for each other, she knows it. He reminds her every day. He shows her when he makes her lunch for her when he gets back from morning patrol; when he runs her a bath with bubbles on a Thursday because it’s the day she has her difficult client; when he gives her the runniest egg; when he tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s reading; when he rubs the back of her hand when there’s no other way to comfort her; when he tells her he loves her to Pluto and back. There’s no way-

“He’s gone.” May says. And when she looks at her, she realises it wasn’t a mistake. She can see the heartbreak she’s feeling in her eyes. 

“No. What- where- why? What’s going on? Where is he? No, he wouldn’t, he can’t-” She’s struggling to breathe and it hurts her chest in a whole new way. It burns. She can’t breathe. She can vaguely hear people telling her to calm down, her vision is blurry. Nothing makes sense. 

Where is Peter?

January 29th, 2026

MJ breathes heavily at the top of the stairs. Why she agreed to an apartment on the 7th floor she’ll never know (she does know, she’s desperately in love with a superhero who loves a skyline, so sue her). Obviously the lift decided to break on week two of their tenancy and hasn’t been fixed yet. It’s only been 208 weeks, she assumes the landlord is getting right on that. But it’s their’s, and it’s filled with so much love that she’s always smiling when she reaches the door. Chest heaving be damned. It’s her safe space. She fumbles for her keys and opens the door to see Peter sat on their couch, she smiles.

“Hey, honey, I’m home.” It’s their favourite thing to say to each other, and it makes her day every time he beats her home. “I made it up 7 whole flights of stairs without stopping because I wanna show you this.” She hangs her coat and takes off her shoes. Turning around, she notices Peter hasn’t moved. He always skips over to her when she comes home.

“Pete?” She walks over to the sofa and his head snaps to her like he hadn’t even noticed her coming home.

“Are you-”

“Do it.” She hears a voice say. Spinning around to try and locate the noise. Is someone in the apartment? Peter would have noticed that. Do what? Turning back to Peter, she can see his eyes intent on her, but there’s nothing she recognises in there. Are they tinted green? She doesn’t have his Spidey sense but she can sense the danger radiating off him, it’s okay, he’d never hurt her. She moves closer.

“Pete, what’s going on?” Raising a hand to place on his arm, he intercepts her wrist and holds her away. She barely recognises that it’s painful because she’s so confused. Something that feels a look like dread settles in her stomach. He’ll never forgive himself if he so much as bruises her wrist.

“Do it.” She hears again and realises it’s coming from an earpiece. He pulls her towards him by her wrist, from up this close she can see the green in his eyes and the paleness of his skin and her heart sinks. Peter would never hurt her. But she’s not sure this is her Peter anymore. Where is Peter?

She knows what is about to happen. She can see it in his the set of his jaw, in the way his eyes never leave hers, but there’s nothing there. She has no idea how to handle this. He’ll never forgive himself. Will he remember what he’s clearly about to do?

Will she survive it?

Will he?

She doesn’t have time to think about it anymore because he’s let go of her wrist, grabbed her by her upper arms and flung her into the wall. 

She sees stars, not the usual stars she sees when she’s with him. The stars she desperately wants to see now. She tries to talk, to scream, to say anything but she can’t catch her breath. Her back is throbbing, she’s pretty sure there’s something broken. Her heart, but a bone as well. She wants to call out, to release the pain in words, but she doesn’t want him to hear it for the rest of his life.

Her heart is broken. Maybe she should have let him leave her, right at the start. He said something bad was going to happen. She said she didn’t care, she was in this. But she never imagined this. She never thought it would be him that had to hurt her. She can’t think about what’s going to happen when he realises what’s happened. This is his worst nightmare, she knows that. He protects her and she protects him. They’re a team. If he ever returns to her Peter, she wants to spare him from those nightmares, if she can. So she tries not to make any noise.

He’s talking to someone through the earpiece, and she can’t hear him. She tries to reach her phone, she can call Tony, he can help her. She presses call and hopes for the best because Peter has turned around and he’s stalking towards her.

Before she knows it she’s pinned to the wall by her throat, her feet aren’t touching the ground and she’s terrified. He’s going to kill her. Her hands are scrambling for purchase on his wrists. There’s no way she can get out of it. So she does the only thing she can think of, she comforts him.

“Pete. Peter, listen to me.” His hand slowly tightens. “I love you, okay? I love you wholeheartedly. This isn’t you, I know that. I know that.” She licks her lips and readjusts her hands. She always thought she might have to listen to Peter’s last words, she never imagined she’d had to tell him goodbye herself. Not like this. 

“Look at me. It’s okay, I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt. It’s okay.” She can feel her tears soaking into the cuffs off his jumper, she rubs the back of his hand. “I love you.” She gasps out. She knows she hasn’t got long, a few seconds before she blacks out. She wonders if that will be it. If he’ll have to hurt anyone else. She should have warned someone. 

She thinks she can see something red in the distance, aiming for her window, but she hasn’t got the capacity to figure out what that might be. This is it for her, she knows this. She has to make it count. 

“I love you, to-” a breath “-to Pluto and back. I forgive you, okay. I forgive you.” And she closes her eyes. 

Where is Peter?

June 8th, 2029

She skips another song on Spotify, it reminds her too much of someone, but she can’t bring herself to delete it. She’s on her way to a date though, so playing songs that remind you of an ex, an ex that abandoned you, an ex you haven’t seen in 3 years, seems like a bad idea. 

She skips until she finds a song that makes her feel light, pockets her phone and carries on towards the restaurant. Should she have said yes, Brad could pick her up from the station? But then he knows the direction in which she lives, and she’s not sure she even wants to go on this second date, let alone a third. Betty had been adamant that they would get on and she needed to set them up. Michelle wasn’t born yesterday but also knows Betty wouldn’t let up, “Michelle you haven’t dated anyone since Peter-” a wince, but it’s fine “-Brad is really nice! He’s super cute.” MJ cut her off before she heard his entire resume, she heard the word ‘cute’ and sue her, she hasn’t had sex in a while, so she agrees to go. 

Date number one was fine. She’s going to another one because she realises it’s unfair to place so much pressure on a new relationship. She has no intention of becoming a girl who can’t have sustainable, healthy relationships because she got her heart obliterated years ago. Peter clearly didn’t think about her back then, so she’s not thinking about him now.

She probably should have been thinking about something, because as she snaps out of her daydream, she has a feeling she’s being followed. Not liked, stalked, but there are definitely a few men a little too close for comfort. She chances a look across the street to see if she can see reflections in the shop window. It’s difficult in the dark evening light, but she can see 3 men. Okay, not to panic, sure she’s in a heel, but they haven’t done anything. Maybe they’re just trying to get past. She checks for her pepper spray just in case, it is New York, and she’s more than aware that if anything bad happens, Spiderman hasn’t been seen in years. 

One of the men breaks away from the others and speeds up, he’s level with her now, and she does her best not to react, there’s an alley coming up, she knows this. She’s painfully aware. The other two remained behind her. What’s her game plan? Why did she wear heels? No, no, she’s not blaming herself. What is the game plan?

The man level with her walks into her and she stumbles slightly into the opening of the alley. Shit. 

“Hey lady, looking good. Where you going all dressed up? Is it for me?” Says gross man three. 

Gross man two has his mouth open to say something but doesn’t have a chance, someone dressed in all black has taken him down at the knees. Before the other two have even noticed what has happened, the stranger has Michelle in his arms and swings her away.

She’s screaming, ready to accost this creep for just grabbing her but -

Swings.

Surely not. He hasn’t been seen in years, it can’t be. She hasn’t seen him in years. 

They set her down gently on a nearby rooftop, she’s forgotten about her date. They take their hood down. He looks devastatingly like her Peter, but like he hasn’t slept in years. She knows it’s probably true. But fuck him, he left her. She could have helped. She finds she can’t speak. 

“Erm, hi.” Peter finally speaks. She turns to leave, she can’t do this. Then she remembers they’re on a fucking rooftop and she can’t get down. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she turns back. 

“Can you take me to Le Bernardin on 51st, please?” Calm, controlled. She won’t let him see how hurt she still is. He looks a little shocked, “What- yeah, yeah of course.” He opens his arms to her and she finds herself stuck once again. Clenching her jaw, she walks over to him, wraps her arms around his neck and waits for him to take off.

What she finds herself doing in breathing him in, she tightens her arms a minuscule amount, just because he’s there. He wraps his arms around her back tightly and buries his head in the crook of her neck. This is not what she meant, this is not what needs. Her body won’t listen to her and makes no move to move away from him. He breathes in and says ‘Em’ like he needs her to breathe, it sends shivers down her spine. 

It’s what she needs to snap out of it and remember. To remember the ways she needed him years ago. To remember the way her heart broke when May confirmed he’d gone. To remember the way she had to learn to sleep without him. To remember the way she cried over him. To remember the ways she pleaded throughout the night, to no one because he wasn’t there, to make the pain stop. 

She pushes back from him, he lets her go. She knows he has the strength to keep her there.

“Don’t touch me.” He immediately shrinks back, and she feels awful. 

“I- I didn’t mean it like that.” She can hear the urgency in her voice, she’s mad at him, she hates him, but she doesn’t want him to think she’s scared of him.

“I’m not - it’s not- ugh, I’m not scared of you. That’s not why I don’t want you to touch me. I just, I haven’t seen you in three years, Peter. Three years. No note, no call, nothing. You just, you left. You left me.” She knows she sounds devastated, she can’t find it herself to care. Cool and controlled Michelle has gone.

“I - I hurt you, Michelle. I couldn’t, I couldn’t stand it. I could have killed you.” Tears threaten to make their way down his face. 

She looks at him, dejected, heartbroken. “I forgave you before these wounds ever turned to scars Pete. I forgave you for that, it was never your fault. I can’t, I won’t forgive you for leaving me.”

“MJ.”

“It’s Michelle to you, Parker.”

“Michelle, please.”

“No,” Michelle said, not caring about the tears streaming down her face. Her hands trembled as she told him “You don’t abandon the people you love.”

“Em.”

Her heart beats faster at the nickname, she knows he must hear it too.

“Goodbye, Peter.”

She’ll take the fire escape, she can’t touch him again.

She never thought she'd get the answer to her question. Now she has, she wishes she didn't know.

Chapter Text

June 8th, 2029

“Wait, please, what do you mean? Did you not get my letters?”

She pauses with one foot hanging precariously off the edge and both hands on top of the wall. 

“What?” she replies, not moving back onto the roof. His eyes widen a little and his arms fidget like he wants to help her back up but won’t touch her. “What letters?”

“You know, the ones I sent you? Every week?”

“Clearly I don’t know what you’re talking about!” She replies annoyed, agitated and heartbroken. She’s still leaning on the roof and she shuffles a bit to get a better balance. She hears Peter gasp and then he’s next to her, hands hovering but not touching. 

“Can - can you come back up, please? Just away from the edge? I can go over there” He says pointing behind him. She hates that he thinks she’s scared of him. She hates how she hasn’t seen him in three years. She - she loves him.

Climbing back to flat ground, she sees Peter visibly relax. She’d think it was cute if she could think about anything other than the fact he’s right here. She’s never been this angry before, can feel herself starting to visibly shake with the fume. Spending three years attempting to get over someone while dealing with the trauma of being hurt, alone, can do that to you. 

“What do you want, Peter? Because surely you haven’t popped back up just to say ‘hi’? Surely you have a different reason to come to me, three years after you left me hooked up to ventilators in a hospital bed?” He flinches and she struggles to feel any remorse over the anger seeping out of her. She knows her words will hurt more than he physically hurt her, but he’s right here. She hammered the idea that he’d never be in front of her again out of her mind. She doesn’t trust him not to leave again at the drop of a hat, so she’s making the most of it. 

“Peter!” she shouts and sees him flinch again. 

“What do you want?” she needs him to answer before she runs away. Before she hides. Michelle Jones is a fighter in every sense of the word, but asking her to stand in front of the love of her life and keep this distance is too much. 

Peter, finally ending his apparent talking strike says “I - I just needed. I wasn’t going to - I was going to leave you alone. I came looking for you and saw you were clearly on your way to a date, you have those shoes on-” his gaze flickers to her strappy heels and she hates how her heart is clinging to the fact he remembers small things about her “-so I wasn’t going to stop. I promise, but then those guys. I had to get you out of there.  I know the last time you saw me I wasn’t - it wasn’t - you weren’t safe. But I need you to be.”

Instead of verbalising that she doesn’t need him anymore when she clearly does, she says, 

“I never got any letters.” his shocked face shows her that he’s not lying about writing them. Doesn’t quite answer why she never received them. 

“What - what - so you - you weren’t ignoring me?” Ignoring him? As if she didn’t spend an embarrassing amount of time desperate to speak to him. 

“No.” 

“Oh. That’s good I guess. Oh my God.” He looks pained, more so than he has the entire time they’ve been on the roof “You think I ignored you?! That I just left you?” She nods not trusting her voice to not break due to the pain in his eyes. She knows hers look the same. 

“Em, please. I would never.” He lets out a humourless laugh. “I guess you can’t trust that anymore. I said I’d never hurt you and - I. Michelle-” he starts, eyes boring into her in a way that’s too intense and she desperately misses “- please, I’m so sorry. I’ll never, never forgive myself for the way I hurt you. Or for the fact, you never received my letters. Or for the fact that we lost three years. But you have to know how sorry I am. How much I love-.”

“Don’t.” She says arms wrapping around herself to keep her heart from falling out of her chest. 

“Can you take me down? Please. I have a date.” She doesn’t mean to say it to make him hurt, she just needs to leave before she does something she’s not entirely sure she would regret. But the look on his face suggests she hurt him all the same. 

“Of course, whatever you want.” Opening his arms to her she quickly walks over before she loses her bottle and wraps her arms around his neck, hooking her chin over his shoulder. His arms are tight around his waist. She hates how safe she feels here. How safe she always felt with him. How she wishes he was here for the last three years so she could have told him that. 

The tears are free falling. 

She can feel him crying too and it hurts in a whole new way. 

“Ready?” she nods against his shoulder. She holds on impossibly tighter as she feels him move and scale down the building. Silently hoping it will take longer than it does as she feels her feet touch the floor. 

“We’re back now.” He says not letting go of her. She knows they’re on the ground, she can feel the ground underneath her feet as surely as she can feel her heart threatening to break again, knowing she needs to walk away from him. 

“Yeah,” she replies, loosening her arms and lifting her face so she can see the side of his face from her peripheral vision. “Thanks, for the lift and for - you know, saving me earlier,” she says while she drops her arms and takes a step back so she can properly see his face.

It’s a mistake. 

He looks broken. Like he hasn’t known true happiness in years, which she supposes is true. If he’s feeling anything like she has for the past 3 years. Knowing truly, that he would have felt worse, not that it was a competition or that anyone was winning. She always wants to protect him, so she goes to do the only thing she can think of and moves her face closer to his. He reacts immediately and moves the hands that never left her waist to her shoulders. It seems like he wants to move his hands further up, to touch her neck, but he won’t. She reasons that it would be too painful, for his hands to be near the last place he touched. And the way he touched it. 

“MJ” he breathes against her mouth, lips finding hers with superhuman precision. It’s just a feather-light touch and it’s the best feeling she’s had since he left. She opens her eyes and sees him already looking at her, fuck she misses him. But she can’t just - there’s more to say. She’s supposed to have moved on. So she backs away, he lets her go. She doesn’t see the way he sinks against the wall, clutching his chest. 

February 8th, 2026

He wakes up to the blinding light and promptly squeezes his eyes shut and groans. He moves his arm around searching for MJ, he feels a little stiff but that’s standard for post patrol. He can’t find her hand, so assumes she must have gotten up and is reading on the couch or something, so he strains his hearing to hear her tinkering around. He can’t hear anything over an annoying beeping, is his alarm going off? He tries to move into a sitting position but one of his arms seems to be dead weight. Dammit, did he get hurt yesterday? God, MJ is gonna strangle him. 

“Pete, easy there.” Tony? Is Tony in his bedroom? Oh no. Is he at the Tower? What’s going on? Where is Michelle? 

Opening his eyes fully he can see himself strapped up to a lot of machines, many of which he doesn’t recognise. Weird. He’s pretty well acquainted with the machines here. One thing he does notice is that his left arm is strapped to the bed with something he can’t decipher. Something is holding him down, and the worry floods his system. Where is Michelle? She’ll calm him down. 

Trying to speak, but nothing comes out. How long was he out for? MJ is gonna be so mad, she had such a big event at work. Looking around again he notices a lot of faces. Tony, May, Ned? Where is Michelle?

The second thing he notices is how worried and heartbroken everyone looks. They’ve only ever looked like that before when he accidentally hit Bucky too hard. 

Oh God, did he hurt someone? 

Where is Michelle?

Tony speaks first, “Hey bud, do you remember anything at all?” Racking his brain he realises he can’t. Huh. 

“Erm, no. Can you get Michelle for me please?” he says with a groan. “I’m pretty panicked so, er, I’m not sure if I’ll be thinking straight. But she calms me down. Can you get her for me please?” He knows she’ll be mad, but she wouldn’t stay away from him when he was hurt. She protects him. He protects her. It’s how they work. He looks down to his wrist and misses the grimaces of everyone in the room. 

“I hurt someone, didn’t I?” he says to his hospital sheets instead of their faces. Their lack of response tells him all he needs to know. But they weren’t like this before. Oh no, what if he hurt someone without powers? Pepper? May is here so he assumes not her. Oh, God, Happy?

“Who is it? I’m so sorry. What happened?” he says trying not to get frantic and scare anyone. 

“Can you please find Michelle for me? I need her, please. Tell her I’m sorry if I scared her. I dunno what happened.” he’s pleading now, he knows this. But no one is telling him anything. Who did he hurt? Where is Michelle?

“Pete,” May says, standing and walking over to him.

“Hi, May.”

“Hi sweetie, you feeling okay?” she says while smoothing his hair back from his face

Huffing out a laugh he replies, “Yeah - just - I wish, I wish someone would tell me what’s going on.”

“How badly hurt are they?” he says thinking he can get answers with a different tactic. 

“Coma.” May stutters out. Oh my God. His eyes immediately widen and fill with tears. 

“Medically induced. They stopped breathing for a while but, we don’t know how long, so it’s just to be safe. Cho thinks she’s going to wake up anytime now.” She? Oh God, he feels sick. It is Pepper, isn’t it? Did he hurt Pepper? How could he? 

“Sorry, I’m so- I don’t even - I’m so sorry-” he takes a deep breath, realising the only thing he needs right now is Michelle, even if he doesn’t deserve her “- please, please can you find Michelle?”

May’s eyes hold too much emotion so he looks to Ned, who’s crying, and then to Tony who shakes his head sadly. What? What’s going on? Why won’t-

“No.,” he says so quietly he’s not sure anyone heard him. His chest is caving in on him. It can’t be true, not her. Not MJ.

“No” a little louder, looking around the room desperately for someone to tell him this isn’t true. That he hasn’t hurt her. That she isn’t in a coma because of him. He’s meant to keep her safe .  

“Not her, please God tell me it’s not her.” He can hardly breathe, knows now why they strapped him down. It feels as though someone is pulling each and every organ from his body. His heart is falling through the floor. 

The last thing he can remember before being sedated is the image of her flashing through his mind. Finally remembering his worst nightmare, watching her slowly close her eyes as she tells him she loves him to Pluto and back, and then her wrists go limp. 

June 10th, 2029

She’s sitting on her couch and moping when it happens. The door-knocking startles her out of her daydreaming about what Peter is doing. Is he still in New York? Why did he come back after all this time? Why did he leave? 

Placing her now cold tea on the coffee table, she goes to answer the door. She receives the parcel that’s been left on the ground outside, shouts a ‘thank you’ to the overworked delivery guy who’s already sprinting down the stairs and moves back inside her apartment. She places the box on the sofa and takes her tea to the sink and watches as the tea spills down the sides of the basin. Sighing, she grabs a knife and wanders back over to the parcel, forgetting that she hasn’t ordered anything. 

What she sees when she opens the box hits her in the chest with such force she stumbles to sit down. There are at least 100 letters here, all with her name on the front in Peter’s messy scrawl. It intensifies the burning that has been sitting behind her eyes for days. She grabs a random letter and rips it open before she can stop herself. Luckily for her, it’s the first one. 

February 12th, 2026.

Em.

I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to put it into words. I’m not as good at that as you. I want Please, you have to understand, I never meant to hurt you.

When you get this I’ll be gone. It’s not because. I don’t want to leave you, please believe me. I never want to leave you. But he’s still out there. He needs to be gone before I can be anywhere near you. I can’t lose you, Michelle. The world needs you. I need you. I’ll come back okay, the second I can. Please believe me. Please, I love you. I’m so sorry. 

I’ll write again soon, I just needed to get this one sent so it’s with you when you wake up. Please wake up. 

I love you.

Peter.

There are tears stains all over the place, she can’t tell if they were there before she started reading. She immediately opens another one, and another until half of them are open on her couch and she can’t read through the tears streaming down her face.

There, in the letters, is everything she missed for the last three years. 

I love you. / I never want to be without you. / You haven’t responded and I understand, I’ll stop being so, clingy I guess. I won’t say it again, but I love you Michelle. / You wouldn’t have forgiven me for dying, I know you wouldn’t have. / I miss you. / You’re everything to me. You always have been. You always will be. / Whatever you want you can have it. / I’m coming home tomorrow, hope to see you. / I’ll never forgive myself.

She jumps off the couch with more energy than she’s had in weeks. She can’t remember the last time she felt like there was somewhere she needed to be. Jogging down the stairs she flies out her front door and hails a cab. Halfway to May’s apartment she realises, one, he might not be there, and two, she’s been in this outfit for 3 days.

She decides it doesn’t matter, she needs to see him. 

She walks up the stairs when she reaches May’s apartment, bypassing having to ring the bell because someone let her in at the door. She’s nervous. Not because she’s scared of him, but because she misses him more than she thinks she should. She still loves him, but she can’t just turn up and profess that to him when she hasn’t seen him in 3 years. She’s changed, she’s sure he’s changed. She just wants the chance to get to know him again, to show him that she trusts him again. She wants him to trust himself. 

She reaches May’s door before she has the chance to think about whether or not she should have called ahead, but she knocks anyway. She’s never been one to stray from a challenge. 

The door swings open and he’s there. In front of her, for the second time in 3 years. And she’s once again hit with the fact that he’s real, that she could touch him if she wanted. Like she’s desperately wanted to for the last 156 weeks. 

“Hi.”

“Hi.” he moves his hands like he wants to touch her, but lets them fall back to his sides. 

“I got your letters today.”

“Oh, that’s - I’m glad they turned up. Sorry, I can take them from you if you want? Or you can throw them away, whatever you want”

“I missed you.” She blurts out, and this time when his hands move, they go around her, holding her so tightly as if he’s trying to make sure she’s real. 

“I missed you so much Peter.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I missed you too” one hand moves up to cup the back of her neck and she buries her nose in the crook between his neck and his shoulder. She feels so safe here, with her arms bent at the elbow and folded between them. He smells the same and it fills a hole in her chest she forgot was there because she was so used to the ache. 

“I - I just missed one. I really needed you.” she feels him hug her closer, she knows he needed her too. 

“I know.” he says gently moving his hand up and down her back, “I’m here now, and I know - I know that’s not the same. I know I fucked up, I swear I was trying - I. Fuck, MJ, I’m so sorry.” 

She inhales deeply and says, “I know, I trust you.” She leans back so she can see his face, he’s already looking at her.

“I always trusted you, Peter. I just - God I wish I had gotten your letters you know. I would have been able to talk to you. We could have helped each other through this. I - I wanna go back, I don’t know how to be with you anymore. I spent the last three years assuming I never would be.” 

She watches his face fall at her words and she’s mad that she didn’t think of what to say on her way over. She’s never been one to lay all her cards on the table, but she’ll try, for him. Always for him. She moves her arms to be able to place her hands on his neck. 

“Not like that, not that I wouldn’t want to get to know again.” his answering smile takes her breath away, but she leans back as he leans in. His brows furrowed again as if he’s got the wrong end of the stick. It’s cute. 

“We’ve got a lot to talk about-” she pecks his lips quickly to get the worry to leave his face, it works “- I never want to do that again, okay?” He kisses her this time, deeper, slower, with more meaning. 

“Yes. Yeah, me too.” 

She rolls her eyes with a smile and says, “Let me in then, dork.”