Mary Jane steadied herself, then sat down on the bed and looked at the boy she had grown up with.
"Don't bother explaining, Peter. Whenever you lie, your left hand starts squeezing the knuckles on your right. Uncle Ben told me that little secret years ago."
Like a detective who had finally seen through a suspect's disguise, she delivered the verdict with total confidence.
Peter stopped moving at once, standing there like a kid who had been caught doing something wrong.
"After that fever, you stopped wearing glasses, and suddenly you looked like you belonged on the cover of a fitness magazine," MJ went on, laying out her reasoning point by point. "So the masked vigilante swinging around New York and beating up bad guys... that's really you?"
Peter nodded.
"It's me. We got bitten by altered spiders in Oscorp's lab. Not just me. Gwen and Cindy too. That's how we ended up forming the team. I didn't want to tell you because it's dangerous. Those gangs, those killers... if they found out who I was, they'd come after you."
"And you're not worried I'll tell the whole world?" MJ raised an eyebrow, looking at the idiot in front of her who had hidden all this to protect her. "Or tell Uncle Ben and Aunt May?"
"Uncle Ben already knows. As for you..." Peter sagged back against the door behind him. By the end of the sentence, his voice had gone quiet, his eyes full of disappointment. "If you're scared and want to stay away from me... I'd understand."
What he feared most was losing this girl.
But the distance he'd braced himself for never came.
Mary Jane suddenly stood and walked right up to him. There was a light in her eyes now, something Peter had never seen before.
It wasn't fear.
It wasn't worship.
It was passion, lit from within.
"Scared? Peter, after all these years, do you really not know me?" MJ took a deep breath. Her hands were trembling, but not from fear. She was excited. "Do you know what my heart felt like during those ten seconds, when I pinned you to the door and fooled Aunt May?"
She pressed a hand against her chest.
"It was pounding."
"That feeling, standing right on the edge of disaster. That feeling of bluffing your way through with performance and lies. Peter, it was incredible. You all have powers. You get to wear masks and play heroes under them. I don't have powers... but I realized I have a talent of my own."
Her eyes grew brighter and brighter until she finally grabbed Peter by the wrist.
"I don't want to just stand behind you. I don't want to sit in school and watch the rest of you live these huge, dramatic lives. I want in too."
"I want to be an actress. I want Broadway. I want Hollywood. You use superpowers to change the world, then I'm going to use my acting to conquer it."
Peter looked at the girl glowing in front of him.
For one moment, he thought Mary Jane looked brighter than any superhero ever could.
Downstairs, in the living room—
Clark leaned back on the couch with a glass of juice and a plate of cookies, listening to everything on the second floor with super-hearing.
On his face was the deeply satisfied smile of an old father watching a child find their path.
He could feel fate shifting.
Mary Jane, who so often ended up reduced to someone's attachment or someone's hostage, had found her own dream, her own arc, at last.
Go fly, Clark thought, genuinely happy for her.
The next morning, Clark woke the way he usually did.
With the sun in his face.
Downstairs in the dining room, Eddie had already begun his day. He had gotten up early, cut both the front and back lawns, and somehow still had time to help make breakfast. When Ben and May came down, they were both caught off guard.
But Eddie wasn't the only extra person at the table that morning.
Mary Jane was there too.
And sitting next to her, with his head lowered, was Peter.
MJ had clearly made an effort today. She was already bright and pretty, but now that she had a goal, she seemed to glow with even more life.
"Peter, could you pass me the salt, sweetheart?" she asked, dragging out the last word on purpose just to tease him.
"Oh! Yeah! Sure! Right away!" Peter jerked like he'd been electrocuted. The memory of MJ hauling him out of bed that morning was still fresh, so he scrambled to pass the salt, nearly knocking over his own glass of water in the process.
"Do... do you need the pepper too?"
"No." MJ leaned closer and dropped her voice so only he could hear. "You're already spicy enough."
Her eyes flicked, just for a moment, toward his abs.
"Cough, cough, cough!"
Peter immediately choked on his bread and started coughing so hard his whole face turned scarlet.
Across from them, Clark calmly worked through his extra-large breakfast.
But inside his head, the little theater had already started.
The little devil, dressed like a movie director with a megaphone, burst into hysterical laughter.
See? This is what happens when the secret gets out! Peter's family status has collapsed overnight. He is now MJ's personal scene partner and puppet on strings. Excellent work, girl. Keep him off balance.
The little angel rubbed its forehead helplessly.
At least MJ didn't tell anyone. Honestly, this looks less like a problem and more like their weird little love language. We should stay out of young people's romance.
Clark reluctantly agreed with that.
This was... some kind of very specific chemistry between the two of them.
Best to just watch and stay out of it.
"Clark, since you're done eating, can you do me a favor?" May leaned out from the kitchen. "I was going to make beef stew tonight, but I just realized we're out of my special black pepper sauce. Could you run down to the grocery on the corner and grab two bottles for me?"
"No problem, Mom. I've got it."
Clark grabbed the jacket hanging over the back of his chair, slipped it on, and headed out the front door.
The morning air was clean and cool. Hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, Clark made his way leisurely toward the corner store, enjoying the quiet.
Then, as he passed an appliance shop, every television in the window suddenly cut away from the regular morning news feed and switched to an emergency broadcast.
"Breaking news! Breaking news! This is Channel Ten Los Angeles with a live report!"
The reporter on the screen was shouting.
"On the highway outside the Stark Industries campus in Los Angeles, two armored metal figures are engaged in an active battle! One of them is enormous and was just seen lifting a passenger car! Police weapons are having no effect whatsoever! This looks like something out of a science-fiction disaster movie!"
Clark stopped in front of the window and looked up at the screens.
The footage was messy and unstable, but he recognized both combatants immediately.
Iron Monger.
And the Mark III.
"Stark..." Clark narrowed his eyes and looked into the distance.
The battle instantly came into view.
"Tony! You ungrateful little bastard! I built Stark Industries! You think that toy suit of yours can stop me?!" Obadiah Stane roared from inside the Iron Monger armor.
But beyond the sound of two rich men smashing fortunes together, Clark heard something else.
Something he couldn't ignore.
The desperate screams of civilians caught in the crossfire.
The cries of children trapped inside an overturned school bus.
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