Peter had spent hours swinging across the city, scanning rooftops, alleys, construction sites—anywhere something big enough to hide a giant lizard might go.
Nothing.
The sun was already dipping low, painting the streets in gold, when he finally slowed, landing lightly on a streetlamp.
"Okay… either you're really good at hide and seek," he muttered, "or I'm really bad at it."
Just as he was about to head home—
Movement.
A girl running.
Fast.
Frantic.
Peter tilted his head, watching as she darted down the sidewalk, looking around like she'd lost something—or someone important.
Then she stopped.
Breathing hard.
Peter reacted instantly, flipping down from the light pole and hanging upside down in front of her.
"What seems to be the problem, citizen—?"
Gwen screamed.
Peter dropped immediately, hands up. "Okay! Okay—sorry—bad entrance—my fault."
She stumbled back, heart racing.
"I'm not here to hurt you," Peter said quickly. "I'm… you know—friendly neighborhood hero thing."
Gwen took a breath, trying to steady herself.
"…okay," she said, still shaken.
"What's going on?" Peter asked.
She hesitated, then rushed out, "Dr. Connors—he figured out a way to regrow lost limbs."
Peter blinked. "That's… actually amazing."
"I know," Gwen said, pacing slightly. "But I got sent home earlier, and when I came back to the lab, he was gone. He rushed out, and now he's not answering his phone. I went to his apartment—he's not there either."
Peter's expression shifted behind the mask.
"…the process," he said slowly. "It uses cross-species gene splicing, right? Reptilian DNA to trigger regenerative pathways?"
Gwen froze. "How do you know that?"
Peter rubbed the back of his neck slightly. "Because earlier today, I fought a giant lizard. And trust me—that was not Killer Croc."
Gwen's face went pale.
"…no. No, no, no—"
She started to spiral, breathing quickening.
Peter stepped forward and placed a hand gently on her shoulder.
"Hey—hey. Breathe. We can fix this."
She forced herself to focus. "Fix it? How do you fix that?!"
Peter thought for a second, his tone shifting—more focused, more analytical.
"Okay… if Connors used reptilian DNA to activate regeneration, then what we're seeing is probably an unstable genetic overwrite," he said. "The human genome's getting overridden by the reptile traits—physiology, behavior, everything."
Gwen stared at him.
"You're saying he's… turning into it permanently?"
"Not necessarily," Peter said quickly. "It depends on how the serum binds. If it's still active in his system, we might be able to reverse it."
"How?" she asked.
Peter started pacing now, thinking out loud.
"Alright—so the mutation's probably being driven by a dominant expression protein—something that's forcing the reptilian DNA to stay active. If we can isolate that protein and design an inhibitor—something that binds to it and shuts it down—we could stop the transformation."
Gwen blinked. "An inhibitor…"
"Yeah," Peter continued. "Like a retroviral counter-agent. Something that reintroduces his original human DNA as the dominant sequence again. Basically, we trick his body into remembering what it's supposed to be."
Gwen's mind started catching up.
"We'd need his original genetic baseline," she said. "And the serum's structure—"
"—to create a targeted antidote," Peter finished. "Exactly."
Gwen looked at him, a mix of shock and hope.
"…you're really smart."
Peter shrugged slightly. "I read."
She almost smiled—then refocused.
"We can do that at Oscorp," she said. "The equipment's there."
Peter nodded.
Peter looked down at himself—full suit, mask, everything—and shook his head slightly.
"…yeah, I am not walking into a lab dressed like this."
He glanced back at Gwen. "Better idea—you go ahead. I'll swing by in about an hour. Gives you time to set things up."
Gwen nodded quickly, already shifting into problem-solving mode. "50th floor. Cross-species division lab."
Peter pointed upward. "Nice view."
"I'll open a window and disable the cameras," she added. "You'll be able to get in without anyone noticing."
Peter gave her a thumbs-up. "Perfect."
Then, without another word, he fired a web and launched himself back into the city.
Mid-swing, Peter reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, dialing quickly.
"Hey, May—it's me," he said when she picked up. "I'm gonna be home late. Helping a friend with… some work."
May's voice came through, calm but caring. "Alright, Peter. Just be safe."
"I will."
"I'll see you when I get home."
"Yeah. See you."
He hung up, tucking the phone away as he swung between buildings.
Without really thinking about it, his path shifted.
Turned.
Guided more by instinct than intention.
Until—
He stopped.
Across the street, perched on a light pole, Peter looked toward a familiar house.
Flash's house.
Music blasted from inside. Lights flashed. Another party.
Peter's eyes narrowed slightly behind the mask as he focused—
And saw her.
MJ.
On the couch.
Laughing.
Close.
Too close.
Then—
Kissing Flash.
Peter didn't move.
Didn't say anything.
He just watched for a second longer.
Then—
He turned.
And swung away.
The city blurred again as Peter moved, faster this time.
Lower.
Focused.
He didn't stop. Didn't linger.
Just patrolled.
Letting time pass.
Letting his head clear.
By the time he circled back toward Oscorp, night had fully settled in.
The building stood tall, glass reflecting the city lights like a beacon.
Peter slowed as he approached, scanning the upper floors.
Then he saw it.
A small window.
Open.
He angled his swing—
Released—
And slipped cleanly through the opening.
Landing silently inside.
The lab was quiet except for the low hum of machines.
Peter pulled his mask up just enough to breathe easier as he stepped further inside. Screens glowed with data, DNA models slowly rotating in midair displays, and scattered notes showed just how fast everything had escalated.
"Gwen?" he called quietly.
"I'm here."
She stepped out from behind a workstation, already in a lab coat, her hair tied back, eyes focused but tired.
"You made it," she said.
"Window trick worked," Peter replied, glancing around. "Very spy-movie of you."
"No time for jokes," Gwen said, though there was a hint of relief in her voice. "I pulled Connors' research files. You were right—he used reptilian gene splicing to activate regenerative sequences."
Peter nodded, stepping up beside her. "Yeah… and now those sequences are overriding his human DNA."
Gwen tapped a few keys, bringing up a molecular model. A strand of DNA twisted on screen, sections highlighted in green.
"This is the serum," she said. "The reptilian genome is expressing at a dominant level. It's rewriting his physiology."
Peter leaned in, eyes scanning quickly. "Not just physiology… behavior too. Limbic system's probably getting hijacked—aggression, survival instincts."
Gwen nodded. "So how do we stop it?"
Peter grabbed a marker and started sketching on a nearby glass board.
"Okay, think of it like this," he said. "Right now, the reptile DNA is acting like a dominant signal—it's constantly telling his cells to stay in that state."
He drew two overlapping sequences.
"If we introduce a retroviral agent—something that carries his original human DNA markers—we can compete with that signal."
Gwen followed, already catching on. "So the virus binds to the altered cells and reintroduces the human baseline…"
"Exactly," Peter said. "But we need something to shut down the reptilian expression long enough for the human DNA to take over again."
Gwen turned back to the computer, typing quickly. "An inhibitor…"
"Yeah," Peter said. "A protein blocker. Something that targets the cross-species splice point—basically where the reptile DNA attached itself."
Gwen pulled up another dataset. "Here—Connors labeled a protein cluster as the 'catalytic bridge.' That might be it."
Peter pointed at the screen. "That's our target. If we design an inhibitor for that, we destabilize the mutation."
"And then the retrovirus restores him," Gwen finished.
They looked at each other.
The lab settled into a quieter rhythm as the cure continued synthesizing, a soft hum and blinking lights marking the progress.
Peter leaned back against a workstation, pulling out his phone while Gwen monitored the readouts.
"So… uh," he started, half-distracted, "on a scale from 'this is fine' to 'we're definitely getting fired,' where are we—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
His thumb froze on the screen.
The expression behind his mask shifted instantly.
"…oh."
Gwen glanced over. "What?"
Peter didn't answer.
He just stared at the image—MJ, clearly drunk, posing in a way that made his chest tighten for all the wrong reasons.
"…great," he muttered under his breath.
"What is it?" Gwen asked, stepping closer.
Peter sighed, louder this time, and tossed his phone onto the table. "Nothing. Just… stupid stuff."
Gwen picked it up anyway.
Her eyes scanned the screen.
The picture.
The context.
She looked back at Peter, who had already turned away, standing near the window with his arms crossed, staring out at the city.
He let out another breath, heavier this time.
"…she's my neighbor," he said quietly. "We've been friends since we were kids. Like… five years old."
Gwen stayed silent, listening.
"I've—" Peter hesitated, then pushed through it. "I've been in love with her since then."
He gave a small, humorless laugh.
"She just… doesn't see me like that."
Gwen's expression softened slightly, but she didn't interrupt.
"And now she's…" he gestured vaguely behind him. "Doing that. Drinking, going to parties, hanging around guys like Flash—"
His voice tightened.
"I don't know. I just… I don't want something bad to happen to her."
The words hung in the air.
Then—
Peter froze.
"…I just said all that out loud, didn't I?"
He turned quickly, hands coming up slightly. "Okay—forget that. Actually, just—erase that. Like, mentally. Completely forget—"
He stopped.
Gwen was smiling.
And for some reason—
That made Peter's heart skip.
"…what?" he asked, a little thrown off.
Gwen tilted her head slightly. "You're kind of terrible at keeping secrets."
Peter blinked. "I'm usually better than this."
"Are you?" she asked, amused.
"…no."
That got a small laugh out of her.
Then she glanced back at the phone, her expression softening.
"You care about her," Gwen said. "That's not a bad thing."
Peter looked down for a second.
"…doesn't really help, though."
"Maybe not," she admitted. "But it says a lot about you."
Peter looked back at her.
"…yeah?"
Gwen nodded.
"Yeah."
Then Gwen glanced back at the monitor.
"Hey," she said, pointing. "Cure's stabilizing."
Peter followed her gaze, grateful for the shift.
"…good," he said, pulling his mask fully back into place.
Peter carefully secured the vial inside his bag, making sure it wouldn't break mid-swing. The faint glow of the cure reflected in his lenses for a moment before he zipped it shut.
Gwen handed him a small slip of paper. "This is my address," she said. "If you cure him—or if something goes wrong—come find me."
Peter took it and nodded. "Got it."
Gwen hesitated, then added, "Be careful."
Peter gave a small, confident tilt of his head. "I'll try."
Then he stepped up to the window and launched himself back into the night.
The city blurred beneath him as he moved, faster now, more focused. He scanned rooftops, alleys, construction zones—
Then he thought about it.
Reptile.
Cold-blooded.
Dark. Damp.
"…sewers."
Peter changed direction mid-swing.
The smell hit first.
"Yep. Definitely the right place," he muttered as he dropped into the sewer tunnels.
Water dripped from above. The air was thick, heavy. Every sound echoed.
Peter crouched low, senses sharp.
Then—
A growl.
Deep.
Close.
Peter turned just in time—
The Lizard lunged.
Massive. Fast.
Claws slashed toward him—
Peter dodged, barely, rolling across the wet ground.
"Okay—still ugly!" he quipped, firing a web that splattered across the creature's chest.
The Lizard roared and tore through it like it was nothing.
Peter circled, trying to keep distance. "You know, we can fix this! I've got a cure—super science, very impressive—"
The Lizard didn't care.
It charged again.
Peter leapt up, sticking to the wall, then dropped down with a kick—
The creature barely flinched.
"Right. Tough crowd."
They clashed again—Peter dodging, weaving, landing quick hits that did little more than slow it down.
He reached for the vial—
Too slow.
The Lizard's claw raked across his chest.
"—AAH!"
Peter slammed into the tunnel wall, the impact knocking the air out of him. Pain flared across his torso, sharp and immediate.
The vial stayed intact—but just barely.
Peter pushed himself up, breathing hard.
"Okay… new plan…"
But the Lizard wasn't waiting.
With one final snarl, it turned and disappeared into the darkness, crashing through the tunnels and vanishing before Peter could follow.
"…and there it goes."
Peter leaned against the wall, hand pressed to his chest.
Blood.
Not good.
"…yeah, I'm gonna need help."
A few minutes later, Peter stumbled up from a manhole into a quiet street.
He didn't waste time.
He swung.
Not fast.
Not clean.
But enough.
When he reached Gwen's house, he landed awkwardly on the side of the building and tapped lightly on her window.
Gwen opened it almost immediately.
"Spider-Man?"
She saw the damage.
"Oh my God get in here!... now."
Peter didn't argue.
He climbed inside.
Her room was quiet, organized, a sharp contrast to everything else.
"Sit," she said, already grabbing supplies.
Peter lowered himself onto the edge of her bed, wincing slightly.
"I had it," he muttered. "I really did."
Gwen carefully cut away part of the suit, revealing the claw marks.
"…that's deep," she said, trying to stay calm.
"I've had worse," Peter said.
"You're lying."
"…yeah."
She started cleaning the wound, focused and precise.
Peter tensed at first, then slowly relaxed.
"…thanks," he said quietly.
Gwen didn't look up. "You don't have to thank me."
There was a pause.
Then—
Peter's head dipped slightly.
His breathing evened out.
"…Spider-Man?"
No response.
He'd passed out.
Gwen froze for a second, then gently steadied him so he wouldn't fall.
"…seriously?"
She sighed softly, brushing a bit of hair out of her face.
Then she looked at him.
Really looked at him.
There was only one thing left between her and the truth.
The mask.
She hesitated.
Just for a moment.
Then slowly—
She reached up—
And pulled it off.
Gwen's eyes widened slightly.
"…Peter?"
It made sense.
The voice.
The way he talked.
The science.
The concern.
She stared at him for a long second.
Then smiled softly.
"…of course it's you."
Peter's eyes snapped open.
He shot upright instantly—heart racing, senses firing all at once.
"…not my room."
He looked around quickly.
Different walls. Different desk. Different—
Then it hit him.
His mask.
"—oh no."
His hands went straight to his face.
Gone.
His eyes dropped to his chest.
His suit top was off, replaced with clean bandaging—and underneath, the deep claw wounds from before were already healed down to faint pink lines.
"…okay, that's new," he muttered.
Still sore.
But alive. And healing.
Then—
Movement behind him.
Peter turned.
Gwen.
Asleep on the bed.
For a second, everything just… paused.
Then Peter rubbed his face and let out a quiet groan.
"…you took my mask off, didn't you?"
Gwen stirred.
Then slowly opened her eyes.
"…you're loud," she said, sitting up slightly.
Peter pointed at his face. "My mask. Missing. That's usually a sign."
Gwen stood, walking over calmly like this wasn't a big deal at all.
"Relax," she said. "Your secret's safe with me."
Peter blinked. "…you're taking this way too well."
Gwen shrugged slightly. "You saved people. You came to me for help. You're not exactly a supervillain."
Peter opened his mouth to respond—
Then stopped.
Because now she was standing really close.
"…right," he said, a bit more awkward now.
Gwen studied him for a moment.
Then, very casually—
"I'd like to go on a date with you."
Peter froze.
"…what?"
"Tomorrow," she added, like that cleared everything up.
Peter's brain stopped working entirely.
"Tomorrow," he repeated.
Gwen smiled.
Then leaned in—
And kissed him on the cheek.
Peter's entire face turned bright red instantly.
"…uh—"
Words failed him.
Completely.
Gwen stepped back, clearly amused.
Peter, on the other hand, did the only thing his brain could manage.
He bolted.
Straight to the window.
"Okay—uh—I—yeah—okay—bye—!"
He climbed out in record time.
Gwen leaned out after him.
"I'll text you a time!"
Peter was already halfway across the street, swinging away.
"You better show up!" she called.
Gwen leaned back into her room, still smiling to herself—
—and froze.
Her mom was standing in the doorway.
Arms crossed.
That look already on her face.
Gwen's smile faltered. "…hi."
Her mom raised an eyebrow, then glanced toward the open window… then back at Gwen.
A slow, knowing smile spread across her face.
"I was just coming to check on you," she said casually, though her tone said she already knew everything.
Gwen's face turned red instantly. "Mom—"
Her mom held up a hand, already turning to leave. "Don't worry, I won't say anything."
She paused at the door, glancing back.
"But you might want to make sure your father never finds out you had a boy climbing through your window."
Gwen's eyes widened. "Mom!"
Her mom just smiled and walked off.
Gwen grabbed her pillow and threw it at the door. "Get out!"
The door shut just in time.
Gwen flopped back onto her bed, burying her face for a second before letting out a muffled laugh.
"…oh my God."
Meanwhile—
Peter landed lightly on his roof, slipping back through his window.
He changed quickly, tossing his suit aside and pulling on normal clothes.
Then—
He climbed right back out.
Dropped down.
And walked through the front door like a completely normal person.
"Hey, May," he called.
"In the kitchen!" she replied.
Peter stepped in and sat down at the table, grabbing a plate.
Dinner.
Normal.
Safe.
And yet—
He couldn't stop smiling.
May noticed immediately.
She set something down and looked at him carefully.
"…okay," she said. "What's going on?"
Peter tried to play it off. "What? Nothing."
"Peter," she said, not buying it for a second.
He cracked.
"…I have a date tomorrow."
May's face lit up instantly. "You do?!"
Peter nodded, still smiling.
"Well, that's wonderful!" she said. Then, with a knowing look, she added, "Is it finally with Mary Jane?"
Peter's smile faltered slightly at the name.
"…no," he said. "It's not MJ."
May tilted her head. "Oh?"
"Her name's Gwen," Peter said. "She's a lab assistant at Oscorp. She's… really smart. A year ahead of me, actually. When school starts, we'll be at the same school."
May smiled warmly. "She sounds lovely."
Peter nodded. "Yeah… she is."
May gave a small sigh. "Well, it's a shame it's not Mary Jane. I always thought you two would make such a cute couple."
Peter looked down slightly, that worry still lingering in the back of his mind.
"…yeah."
But then he looked back up.
"And I'm happy for you," May added quickly. "I can't wait to meet this Gwen."
Peter smiled again.
Peter's phone buzzed late that night.
Unknown Number:Pick me up at noon.
He stared at it for a second.
"…well, that's definitely Gwen."
A small smile crept in.
The rest of the night, he kept busy—repairing his suit, patching the torn fabric from the sewer fight, reinforcing the seams. It kept his hands occupied… and his mind from overthinking too much.
By noon the next day, Peter stood outside Gwen's building, holding a small bouquet of flowers.
He took a breath.
Knocked.
The door opened—
And Gwen's mom stood there, already smiling.
"Well," she said, eyeing him up and down, "this must be the boy climbing through my daughter's window."
Peter froze.
"…I—it's not—it didn't—"
She just smiled wider.
Then pointed at the flowers.
Peter blinked and quickly handed them over. "These are—for—uh—Gwen."
"Oh, I know," she said, amused.
Then she turned and called out loudly, "GWEN! YOUR BOYFRIEND'S HERE!"
Peter's enhanced hearing picked up a loud crash from somewhere inside.
"…that's a good sign, right?" he muttered.
A second later, Gwen appeared—
And Peter forgot how to breathe.
She looked… incredible.
Simple, but effortless.
He just stared.
Gwen noticed immediately. "What?"
Peter blinked, snapping out of it. "Nothing—uh—you look—good. Really good."
Gwen smirked slightly, then noticed the flowers in her mom's hand.
"Seriously, Peter? Who still buys flowers?"
Peter shrugged, recovering a bit. "I was raised that way. My uncle used to win my aunt over with them. Figured I'd give it a shot."
Gwen's expression softened just a little.
"…okay, that's actually kind of sweet."
As they stepped out into the hallway, Gwen's mom leaned out behind them.
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
"Mom!" Gwen groaned, face turning red as she tried to hide in her jacket.
Peter tried—and failed—not to laugh.
In the elevator, there was a brief silence.
Then Peter spoke.
"Okay, I have to ask this," he said. "It's been on my mind."
Gwen glanced at him. "What?"
"You're not going on a date with me just because I'm Spider-Man… right?"
Gwen stared at him.
Then laughed.
"Spider-Man is barely a known hero," she said. "When I met you at Oscorp, I thought you were cute."
Peter blinked. "…oh."
"Finding out you're Spider-Man didn't change that," she added. "If anything, I probably wouldn't have asked you out until school started."
She nudged him lightly. "You are going to Midtown High, right?"
Peter nodded quickly. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."
"…good."
He hesitated. "I didn't offend you or anything, did I?"
Gwen slipped her arm around his.
"You didn't."
They walked through the park, sunlight filtering through the trees.
"So," Gwen said, glancing at him, "how did you actually get your powers?"
Peter scratched the back of his head. "Honestly? Not a hundred percent sure. But… I got bitten by a spider. Same day as my field trip to Oscorp."
Gwen raised an eyebrow. "Of course you did."
Peter smiled slightly.
Then her expression shifted. "Were you scared? Of what you could do?"
Peter's smile faded.
"…yeah," he admitted.
They walked a few more steps before he continued.
"When my uncle died… I found the guy who did it. I almost—" he stopped, exhaling. "I almost killed him."
Gwen looked at him, serious now.
"But I didn't," Peter said. "I remembered what my uncle told me… with great power comes great responsibility."
He hesitated, then added, "Also… Batman was there."
Gwen stopped walking.
"…you're kidding."
Peter shook his head.
"You've met Batman?!" she said, eyes wide. "What's he like? What does he look like? Is he as scary as people say—?"
Peter laughed. "I didn't exactly get a full look. I was sitting on a gargoyle on the Empire State Building, and he just… appeared behind me."
Gwen stared at him like that was the coolest thing she'd ever heard.
"He told me I did the right thing," Peter said. "Not killing that guy."
Gwen shook her head, still amazed.
"…that's insane."
They kept walking, hands brushing—
Then slowly, naturally—
Intertwining.
Peter smiled slightly as he kept talking—
And then stopped.
Because someone stood in front of them.
MJ.
She looked between them, her expression tightening for just a split second before smoothing into a smile.
"Hey, Pete."
Peter froze slightly. "Hey."
Her eyes shifted to Gwen. "And…?"
Gwen stepped forward easily. "Gwen Stacy. I was one of the lab assistants who showed you guys around Oscorp."
MJ nodded slowly. "Right… yeah. I remember."
Gwen continued, still friendly. "I'll be an upperclassman when school starts—if you're going to Midtown."
MJ glanced at Peter again.
"…yeah. I am."
There was a pause.
A quiet, tense one.
Peter stood there between them—
Caught.
Not quite sure what to say next.
Peter shifted his weight awkwardly, the silence between them stretching just a little too long. The city noise filled the gaps—distant traffic, a barking dog, the hum of life going on around them—but none of it helped.
"So… uh," Peter rubbed the back of his neck, forcing a small smile, "what were you doing out here, MJ?"
Mary Jane hesitated.
She looked like she might brush it off—give one of her usual light, effortless answers—but instead, her expression faltered just slightly.
"I was just… going for a walk," she said, her voice softer than usual. "Trying to clear my head."
Peter frowned a little. "Something wrong?"
MJ let out a quiet breath, glancing away.
"Flash broke up with me," she said, then quickly waved it off like it didn't matter. "Because—well… never mind." She forced a smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I don't want to ruin your date."
Before Peter could respond, she turned and started walking away.
"MJ, wait—" he called after her.
But she didn't stop.
She didn't even look back.
Peter stood there for a second, watching her disappear down the street, something unsettled twisting in his chest. He didn't understand it—not fully—but it didn't feel right, just letting her walk off like that.
"…Sorry," he muttered, turning back to Gwen. "She's usually… a lot more talkative."
Gwen gave a small shrug, her expression calm—but her eyes lingered in the direction MJ had gone.
"It's fine," she said.
But in the quiet of her own thoughts, something clicked into place.
She likes him.
Not in a simple way. Not just friendly.
There was something else there… something MJ herself might not even fully understand.
Gwen didn't say anything.
Instead, she smiled lightly. "Come on. You were showing me something, remember?"
Peter blinked, then nodded quickly. "Right—yeah."
They started walking again, the tension easing as conversation picked back up. It didn't take long before they were laughing—talking about school, random things, anything that came to mind. With Gwen, things felt… easy.
Normal.
By the time they reached Peter's house, the earlier moment had faded—at least on the surface.
"Uh—do you wanna come in?" Peter asked, a little hesitant but hopeful. "My aunt's probably home. She wanted to meet you."
Gwen smiled. "Sure."
Peter opened the door and stepped inside.
"Aunt May? I'm home!"
No answer.
He frowned slightly, kicking off his shoes before heading toward the kitchen. Gwen followed, looking around curiously.
"She probably got called into work," Peter said after a moment, glancing at the empty space. "She picked up extra shifts at FEAST. Said she'd be back for dinner."
Gwen nodded, relaxed.
"So… tour guide?" she teased.
Peter grinned. "Yeah, uh—this way."
He led her upstairs to his room, pushing the door open with a bit of nervous energy.
It wasn't exactly clean—but it wasn't a disaster either. Organized chaos.
They sat, talked, laughed again—closer now, more comfortable in the privacy of the room. One joke turned into another, a shared glance lingering just a little longer than it should.
And then—
They leaned in.
It was clumsy at first. New. Unsure.
But it didn't stay that way for long.
Between quiet laughter and soft smiles, the distance between them disappeared entirely.
—
Across the street, Mary Jane pushed open her front door.
The TV flickered in the corner. The room smelled faintly of stale alcohol.
Her father sat slumped in his chair, passed out, an empty bottle loosely hanging from his hand.
MJ didn't even look at him.
She just walked past.
Up the stairs. Down the hall. Into her room.
The door clicked shut behind her.
She sat on her bed, staring down at her hands for a moment—quiet, still.
Then—
Movement caught her eye.
She glanced toward the window.
And froze.
Across the way, through the gap in the curtains, she could see into Peter's room.
Peter… and Gwen.
Laughing.
Close.
Happy.
Her chest tightened.
She didn't understand it—not really. There was no clear reason, no explanation she could grab onto—but the feeling was sharp and sudden all the same.
Before she could think about it too much—
She stood and shut the blinds.
Hard.
Then she turned away and dropped onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling, the silence pressing in.
—
Later, the front door to Peter's house opened quietly.
"Aunt May?" May Parker called out as she stepped inside, setting her things down.
No answer.
She frowned slightly, listening.
Then she heard it.
Laughter.
Soft. Faint.
Upstairs.
Her expression shifted—curious now—as she made her way up, each step slow and deliberate. The sound grew clearer the closer she got, until she stood just outside Peter's door.
Closed.
She didn't knock.
She opened it.
—and immediately froze.
"Peter!"
Peter jerked back like he'd been struck by lightning, eyes wide.
Gwen, equally startled, instinctively pressed herself against him, face flushed with embarrassment.
"Aunt May, I—"
"Downstairs. Now."
Her voice wasn't loud—but it didn't need to be.
Peter winced, nodding quickly. "Y-yes, ma'am…"
He carefully helped Gwen sit properly on the bed before stepping away, head lowered as he walked past his aunt and out into the hall.
May remained in the doorway for a moment, her gaze shifting to Gwen.
"And you too, young lady."
Gwen covered part of her face, mortified.
"…Yes, ma'am."
The mood in the house had changed completely
Once they were downstairs, the air felt heavy—like the whole house was holding its breath.
Aunt May stood near the phone, arms crossed, her expression firm but controlled. Peter hovered awkwardly near the stairs, while Gwen stood a step behind him, avoiding eye contact.
May turned her attention to Gwen.
"Dear," she said, voice calm but leaving no room for argument, "I'm going to need your home number."
Gwen hesitated.
Her fingers curled slightly at her sides. "I… it's really not—"
May's look sharpened—not cruel, but unmistakably serious.
Gwen swallowed.
"…Okay," she muttered, quietly giving the number.
May nodded once and walked over to the phone, dialing without hesitation.
The line rang.
Once. Twice.
Then it clicked.
"Hello?"
May straightened slightly. "Good evening. My name is May Parker. I believe I have your daughter, Gwen, here at my home."
There was a pause.
The voice on the other end shifted—deeper, sharper.
"This is Captain Stacy."
Gwen visibly stiffened.
May continued, composed. "I found her upstairs in my nephew's room. The door was shut, and she was sitting on his lap while they were… kissing."
Silence.
Then—
"I'll be there," he said, voice tight with anger.
The line went dead.
—
The wait felt endless.
Peter tried to say something—anything—but nothing came out right. Gwen stood off to the side, arms wrapped around herself, staring at the floor.
May remained calm, but watchful.
Minutes later, headlights swept across the front windows.
A car door slammed.
Then another.
Heavy footsteps approached the house.
The front door opened sharply—
—and Gwen's father stepped inside, his presence filling the room instantly. George Stacy looked exactly like what he was: a police captain, rigid posture, sharp eyes, and right now—
Furious.
Behind him, Gwen's mother followed quickly, concern written all over her face.
"Dad—" Gwen started.
"What were you thinking?!" he snapped, his voice booming through the house.
Peter flinched.
George's gaze snapped to him next.
"And you—Parker, right?" he stepped forward, anger barely contained. "You think it's appropriate to have my daughter alone in your room with the door shut?!"
"Sir, I—" Peter started, but his voice faltered.
"That's enough." His tone cut like a blade.
Gwen's mother stepped in quickly, placing a hand on his arm. "George—"
"No," he shook his head, jaw tight. "I just got off shift and I walk into this?"
"George," she said more firmly, holding his gaze. "Go sit in the car."
He blinked at her.
"I'm serious," she added. "You're not helping right now."
For a moment, it looked like he might argue.
Then he exhaled sharply through his nose, shooting one last glare at Peter before turning toward the door.
"I'll be outside," he said, voice still tense.
The door shut behind him.
Silence followed—but it was a different kind now. Less explosive. Still heavy.
Gwen's mother turned back to them, her expression firm but far calmer.
"Alright," she said. "Let's all sit down."
Aunt May nodded in agreement, gesturing toward the living room.
Peter and Gwen obeyed without a word, sitting side by side on the couch—but not nearly as close as before.
May and Gwen's mother sat across from them.
For a moment, neither adult spoke.
Then May folded her hands.
"You two are far too young to be engaging in that kind of behavior."
Peter's head snapped up, face instantly red. "Oh my God, Aunt May—we weren't having sex! We were just kissing!"
Gwen covered her face with both hands, mortified.
Her mother raised an eyebrow slightly. "Regardless," she said, calm but firm, "being alone behind closed doors like that sends a message. And it puts both of you in a situation you may not be ready for."
Peter sank back slightly, still flushed. "We weren't trying to—"
"I know," May said, softer now, but still serious. "But that doesn't mean it's okay."
Gwen slowly lowered her hands, her voice small. "…We didn't think it was that big of a deal."
Her mother's expression softened just a fraction.
"It feels like it isn't," she said. "Until it is."
The room went quiet again.
Two teenagers on one couch—embarrassed, overwhelmed, and suddenly very aware that things had just gotten a lot more complicated.
And outside—
A police captain sat in his car, gripping the steering wheel, waiting to cool down.
The silence lingered after Gwen's mother spoke, but this time it wasn't just awkward—it was thoughtful.
Aunt May leaned forward slightly, her tone firm but no longer sharp. "This isn't about punishing you," she said. "It's about making sure you understand what you're stepping into."
Gwen's mother nodded in agreement. "You're both young. Feelings move fast at your age, and it's easy to get caught up in the moment." She glanced between them. "That's how people end up in situations they're not ready for."
Peter shifted, rubbing his hands together. "We really weren't trying to do anything wrong."
"I believe you," she said gently. "But intention doesn't always matter as much as the situation itself."
May added, "So for now, things are going to change a bit."
Peter and Gwen both looked up at that.
"You won't be seeing each other alone," May continued. "Not for a while."
Gwen's shoulders dropped slightly.
"If you want to spend time together," Gwen's mother said, picking up where May left off, "it will be with one of us present. Here, or at our house. Doors open. No exceptions."
Peter let out a quiet breath, clearly not thrilled—but he nodded.
"…Okay."
Gwen hesitated, then nodded too. "Yeah… okay."
May gave them both a small, approving look. "Trust is something you earn. And right now, you've both shown you're not quite ready for that kind of privacy."
Another pause.
Not as heavy this time—but still serious.
Then Gwen's mother stood. "We should get going."
Gwen slowly got to her feet, avoiding Peter's eyes for just a second before glancing back at him. There was something there—embarrassment, sure, but also something softer. Something unspoken.
They moved toward the door.
Outside, George Stacy was already out of the car, arms crossed, watching the house like he expected trouble to walk out of it.
As Gwen stepped out, his expression tightened—but he didn't say anything this time.
Gwen's mother lingered just a moment longer in the doorway.
Peter hesitated… then spoke.
"Um—Mrs. Stacy?"
She turned back to him.
He rubbed the back of his neck again, glancing briefly past her—toward the driveway—before lowering his voice just a bit.
"Would it be… okay if I came over tomorrow?"
A beat.
Then, a little quieter—
"…After Mr. Stacy leaves?"
For a second, it looked like she might laugh.
Instead, she gave him a measured look—one that said she understood exactly what he was asking, and why.
"That depends," she said calmly.
Peter straightened slightly.
"On whether you're planning to follow the rules we just set."
"I am," he said quickly.
She studied him for another moment… then gave a small nod.
"You can come by," she said. "But not until the afternoon. And I'll be home."
Peter nodded just as fast. "Yes, ma'am."
Behind her, Gwen glanced back at him—this time with the faintest hint of a smile.
Her father cleared his throat sharply.
"That's enough," he muttered.
Gwen rolled her eyes slightly, but followed her parents toward the car.
The door closed.
A/N this is my second fanfic and my first time writing a couple scene let me know how i did please