Dreams. They have been plaguing him for months now, ever since his encounter with the symbiote. At the time, the dreams were darkly pleasant, wonderfully pleasing and completely freeing. But he is rid of the symbiote now, and he does not want these dreams anymore. He is happy with Mary Jane and the life he is currently living, and all he wants is to have control over his thoughts once again.

This isn’t going to happen though. Night after night he falls into an uneasy sleep, only to wake hours later, drenched in sweat. He used to make noise, to groan and claw the sheets, but he can’t allow himself to do that anymore. It’s not fair to Mary Jane. They are his burden to shoulder, why should he interrupt her angelic slumber because of dreams brought on by a mistake he made? Peter eventually gains control of himself, of his subconscious tics, but he still feels guilty. The thing is… the dreams are amazing. They are completely unlike anything he can remember from his past, filled with lust and darkly erotic thoughts on his part. They begin the same; he is dressed in the symbiote suit, leaping from building to building, raw power coursing through his veins, fuelling him more than his blood ever possibly could. He always descends from the Empire State Building, and upon landing, his civilian clothes are in place over the suit. He feels drawn to the jazz club where MJ seeks employ, and he finds himself entering on a whim. And that’s when he sees her… she is a vision in black, her hair taking on all the colours of the spotlight, her laughter ringing out over the crowd of people. Radiance oozes off her, and the shy confidence in her smile is wildly attractive, and makes his breath catch in his throat every time. He whispers her to name to himself and the sound that rolls off his tongue echoes back to him, music to his ears.

“Gwen…”

A song begins to play in the background and his overwhelming want – need – to touch her, to caress her skin becomes too great. With the symbiote in control, he strides over to her and extends his hand, not asking her anything, simply knowing that she will dance with him. Hesitantly, she places her hand in his, and steps us from her table, the girls she is sitting with falling silent at her departure. In one swift move, their bodies are pressed close together, leaving nowhere for Gwen to look except straight into Peter’s eyes. The connection, the spark between them is instantaneous, and highly obvious to all spectators, including Mary Jane. Except this time around, Peter doesn’t know she’s there. He doesn’t even care who sees. Because this time, unlike last, he can’t blame the symbiote. He can deny, deny, deny, but in truth he knows that the man dancing a fiery dance with Gwen Stacy is Peter Parker, no one else. The symbiote has relinquished control, leaving Peter alone to act on his animal instincts.

The music picks up now, and soon they begin to spin, ‘round and ‘round, with Gwen clinging to Peter as if her life depends on it. He remembers that she clung to him like this once before. Remembers watching her freefall through the air, remembers propelling himself off falling debris, pushing himself harder, faster, praying that he can get to her in time. And he had. He had stopped her from falling then, and he will stop her from falling now, or ever again. As they move into a dip, Peter brings his face less than an inch away from hers. He wants to touch, to taste, to devour, to conquer. Tonight, she is his. But he doesn’t take her, not yet. He heightens the already fervent tension between them, pulling her deeper into their dance of death, twirling, dipping, pressing closer and closer. The chase is always the best part. Finally, the song ends and he moves into dip her once again. With their bodies in position, Peter makes his move. A tongue darts out to meet lips, pushing against them ever so slightly, silky smooth against the moist flesh. Once granted entrance inside the sweet haven, two tongues begin their intricate dance, mirroring the moves of their vessels only moments prior. Peter never recalls whose tongue actually makes the first bold move, but it doesn’t matter as the languid sweetness of the moment catches them both in its spell. Tongues that are normally used only to ask questions and speak about science are now erasing all past reservations either might have had about one another.

As lips part, eyes make real contact for the first time. Crystal clear blue meet a wild, animalistic grey, and as she holds him captive in her gaze, Peter can never help but realize just how feral Gwen’s eyes are. Each time he notices their true colour, he can’t believe how much they contrast her personality. Gwen is… Gwen. She’s bubbly, bright, cute in that girl-next-door type of way and always has something pleasant to say. When they had entered the club in real life, he hadn’t been lying about loving her little giggle. But her eyes reflect something else, a subtle darkness lurking beneath the calm surface. He likes it.

When Gwen finally sees fit to release her hold on his eyes, their bodies part, and the two begin to circle each other; predator and prey, prey and predator. Peter knows the roles they are playing, he just hasn’t figured out who is which yet. They keep at this seemingly forever, seeing as there is no sense of time in these dreams. When one makes a move, the other backs away; when one backs away, the other makes a move. It is a vicious circle, one that keeps them apart for far too long. Finally, Peter reaches out and manages to hold onto her arm. There is always an unintentional resistance on Gwen’s part at first, but she gives into her feelings and lets him pull her into him. They move in together for another kiss, but a voice interrupts what they so truly want.

“Peter, don’t do this. You love me.” It’s Mary Jane. “You’re not yourself. You must realize that. Get away from her.”

He looks from Mary Jane to Gwen, who has freed herself from his grasp by this time.

“Peter, leave her. Come with me. You love me,” MJ’s siren voice calls out.

He wants Gwen to say something, to fight for him, but when his eyes plead with her to break the silence between them, she only ever has one thing to say…

“I won’t fight for you Pete. You need to make this decision on your own. Look inside yourself and see what your heart wants.”

The line is clichéd, sure, but honestly, he isn’t sure what his heart wants. He is still wearing the symbiote suit, and it is still his excuse. In it, he can say that he is still not himself. Unless… He opens the top button of his shirt and glances underneath. What he sees shocks him. The symbiote is gone; in its place he sees a familiar red and blue. It’s done. He accepts it. He is just Peter Parker. He has been Peter Parker the whole time. And he knows it. He understands, comes to terms with the fact that the symbiote is really only a subterfuge, his easy way out, his cloak to hide beneath. His glance flickers to the blonde at his side, her eyes twinkling in the spotlight, and knows that this is what he wants, what his heart wants. He knows that he has actually wanted it for a long time, he was just too unsure to admit it. He takes a step back, towards Gwen, and places a protective – possessive – arm around her.

“You’re right, MJ. I do love you. Which is why I can’t choose you, because being with you means lying to you, and I can’t handle lying to another person I love. It’s Gwen, MJ. It’s been Gwen for long time. We were comfortable together; more importantly, I was comfortable, and much too afraid to admit to anyone that Gwen was the one, especially myself.”

With his heart suddenly weightless, free of the secret burden he’s been carrying for so long, he embraces Gwen in a way he never has before, and she hold him and comforts him and loves him. He is happy, for real, for the first time in a long time, and it is wonderful.

Something is not right though. His surroundings are beginning to blur and Gwen is suddenly on the other side of the room. He is being pulled, torn away from his new love. He is breathing too heavily now, screaming her name, fighting with all his might against the unseen force dragging him away.

This is how he wakes; drenched in sweat, panting, with her name on his lips. Where is she? What happened? He glances around, and makes out a sleeping form beside him. But there is red hair spilling out onto the pillow, not the familiar white-blonde he hopes to see. Red… Mary Jane… and then he remembers. He is still with Mary Jane, still living in his crap apartment, still just science buddies with Gwen. His dreams scare him because in them he is able to live out his fantasy, and they prove he is capable of abandoning a woman that has done nothing but love him. He wants Gwen, that much is certain now, but it doesn’t matter, not really. He has an obligation, one that puts others’ feelings ahead of his own at all times. But he can continue to dream, though. Continue to enter that jazz club night after night, to dance his dance with Gwen, tell MJ the truth and free himself of his obligations and burdens for just a little while. But sometimes, the burden of dreams themselves is that they can only remain dreams…