Here's the follow up. Thank you for being patient with my stories. I understand what I want to do, now. More from my mulit-chapter soon. Please keep in mind that this is my first M-rated chapter, so reviews are kinda important, but do whatever you want.
Third person POV. Post-movie. AU.
And I know that putting in song lines is so incredibly cheesy, but I was like, wow, that is so true. Just go with it. (BTW, I absolutely LOVE Grease. Explanations further into the story.)
WARNING: Intense chapter. Lots of smut and pointless stuff and passion and buckets full of angst. Just so you know if you can't handle that stuff.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to The Amazing Spider-Man.
"They didn't agree on much. In fact, they didn't agree on anything. They fought all the time and challenged each other every day. But despite their differences, they had one important thing in common. They were crazy about each other."
-Nicholas Sparks, The Notebook
Eventually time effaces the Green Goblin incident. And not necessarily in a good way. The city is cleaned up, buildings are repaired, but the pipes are contaminated with rubble and chemicals, leaving half of Midtown's population grubby and disgusting. Norman Osborn - aka Green Goblin - has been thrown into the asylum, totaling OsCorp's employee count there to two, not to mention sullying OsCorp's reputation. They almost shut the whole thing down and laid off hundreds of people, if it wasn't for Tony Stark. But Gwen quit anyway, even when she was offered a permanent job by Tony Stark himself, because she can't handle science anymore and she most definitely can't handle that building anymore.
And was it mentioned that not only was the incident effaced, but the impacts were, too? Like Gwen's rescue and Peter's rendezvous back to her in that alley? Like their argument (well, her-screaming-at-him argument)? Like their - their kiss?
Well, it did. Time washed away all memories of Peter's lips on hers back in that dingy alley because she hasn't felt them since forever. Just when she thinks she can feel them again and smell his scent mixed with blood and sweat, just when her fingers curl around the reminiscence and cling tightly, it vanishes; swings out of her grip like her neighborhood's favorite hero. And it's all his fault.
It really, truly, honestly is.
If he wasn't so damn patriotic and unswerving to her father's dying wish-
But then she'd stumble over the words in her head and beg for an apology from Heaven above (she's sorry, Daddy, she's just so mad he's gone). If there even is a Heaven or a God. Because He sure as hell wasn't there for her when she needed Him to be. Says the absence of her male begetter.
But Peter Parker, founder of her anger and spite and producer of her ticket on an emotional roller-coaster- Why did he have to make their last kiss be their last kiss? She had thought it was the conductor of a long train of individual kisses to come, comforting her and finally bringing the peace that she damn well deserves, but instead it turned out to be the caboose. The end of the train of few kisses they've had - which has got to be the smallest train ever on the face of the planet.
But Peter Parker- Why is what you're doing so right yet oh, so wrong? Why is leaving her to herself and her life - strictly without him - so immaculate, yet so illicit? So moral, but so incorrect?
Her mind is free of guilt (it's not like they're coming close to disobeying her father's words), so that's a bonus. But her heart aches so badly, pounding against her chest and throbbing around the sides, making romance movies impossible to sit through (except for The Notebook - always The Notebook), and the Twilight Saga impossible to read (except for New Moon - always New Moon).
(But why she can tolerate only these two works of literature is probably due to the fact that both pathetic heroines are in states of depression because their everythings are gone - and they left by own will. Huh. Sounds kinda familiar.)
Peter effing Parker- Why'd you have to be her Noah? Or her Edward? Why'd you have to be the good boy and leave?
(She at least hopes a Lon or Jacob will be coming her way soon.)
Except that doesn't seem likely when people seem to be avoiding her in general; they turn their eyes down whenever they walk by her on campus or in the halls. They don't invite her to sit with them when they study in the library, or go for coffee. And these are people she's known since forever. She thinks maybe it's the fact that she's lost her father to a terrible accident and everyone at the whole school almost saw her die on live television. Maybe. Either way, she spends lunch alone or with Mary Jane who only shows up twice a week because her schedule is busy, busy, busy with auditions, darling. (Someone help her.) But MJ is her best friend, the first she's ever had and currently the only. Her other best friend left when her boyfriend of three days - three days - did.
He had been her best friend.
He really, truly, honestly had. They just...got each other. Complimented each other without having to say a thing. Completed each other without having to move a muscle. Basic facts.
But now he's gone. Has been gone for a good, solid three months. Not that she's counting. But she is, obviously just so she can use the number when he comes crawling back to her (cue the mental panicking for if he literally will crawl or not) and tells her what an idiotic ass-hole he's been and beseeches her to somehow take him back. (Because Peter Parker will come back sometime before hell freezes over.)
In the meantime, though, she's on the hunt for any guy who dares to make eye contact or even glance her way - she's on the hunt for her Lon or Jacob; she knows that the heroines use them in the end, but hey, at least she knows she's using them in the beginning.
So she tries it with Flash again because Mary Jane is so over him, and this time, it's not as bad. He makes her laugh while they sit at a cute diner, then teaches her how to throw a three-pointer on the court behind his house. When he invites her inside, she accepts. And they sit and talk on the couch because Flash has more feelings than people think he does and actually cares about his grades and actually cares about leaving not just a sports impact on the school for when he graduates.
And it's all too much for Gwen to take in and she hasn't had any affection from a guy or has hardly touched any guy or kissed any guy since him, so when Flash is talking about serving his country, she cuts him off - by pressing her lips to his because a kiss is something designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.
And oh, is he different but oh, does it feel nice. Calm, rock-hard lips, smooth to the touch. Alleviating all burdens she carries, but only for the moment. Because as soon as the first button of her blouse is undone, she remembers that it isn't him.
She lets Flash go on with it, anyway.
At school the next day, she's shaking in her boots and last night's memories are still fresh in her mind and fatigue is weighing on her so hard because she didn't sleep AT ALL and each step is painful to take with the dull throbbing still between her legs. And there are whispers everywhere she goes, chasing her down like an oddly muted pack of hungry wolves. But when Flash sidles up next to her after second hour, and takes her hand in his, everything's just a little better because she found her Jacob.
But maybe she should've picked someone else because not only does Peter not show any interest in Gwen's new suitor (except how would she know for sure if she never sees him?), but Mary Jane's avoiding her now, too. This is Mary Jane Watson, drama queen extraordinaire and also her best friend; so she should've known that of course MJ wasn't over Flash. She's never over any guy.
Gwen takes this in stride, though. MJ hasn't gone through one friend without doing something like this to them, shutting them out for a few days over a guy. At least until she gets her hands on a new one. So Gwen sits next to Flash at lunch that same day, and she finds it isn't actually awkward. They don't bring last night up (they're at school and she would still like to try to be decent), but instead talk about why in the world Gwen decided to ditch a job at Stark Expo and slum it for a job as a barista at a Starbucks three blocks up from her apartment. She laughs sincerely - twice.
He asks her out again, tonight; there's a movie about space playing at the old theater off of Broadway, and it's not the Star Wars kind. She tells him no - she has to watch her brothers tonight, but if it's still showing tomorrow, she'd love to.
Date two, round two.
This time in the back of his car because she's thinking about him and needs some kind of way to get to him. Even if it's not his body underneath hers.
By the next morning, she still hasn't slept and she feels a little dirty, both inside and out, but she imagined it was him. Him him him. And she still imagines it was him even when she gets to school at a very early hour because she couldn't stay in her house much longer; she hasn't been able to look her mother in the eyes ever since the first time. It's busy in the hallways now, students running around everywhere, and thoughts of him and her doing the things Flash and her were doing last night swim through her head and she's getting a little warm and she's rounding the corner because the bathroom seems like a good idea, but she collides headlong with someone and falls back. Rubbing her bruised head, she looks up.
A weird sensation washes over her body as soon as her eyes land on his tall, lanky form; something flares up inside of her, something close to what she felt mechanically with Flash last night, but it's mixed with the odd cooling sensation of her blood running cold at the sight of him standing there and so close-
But then she flushes a shade of guilty red because he certainly has to have heard the rumors by now, and she feels a little stupid because she never planned it to get this out of hand if she were ever to confront him again, and she most certainly can't look him in the eyes now.
And suddenly she's being helped up, but it's not by him because he's still standing straight up and gawking at her. When she looks up at whoever's holding her, she catches sight of Flash's stony, cold face. Flash is glaring at him like he wishes knives would fly out of his eyes, and it kind of looks like Peter wishes that, too. His mouth is open like he wants to say something but physically can't, and his eyes swivel back and forth between Flash and her.
She swallows forcefully and rights herself. Technically, she's Flash's now, not his. Flash took her – he's her first, and Peter's not, so, technically, there are no ties between them. (But of course there are, because they're Peter and Gwen – they were made for each other. What is she thinking?) The thought keeps her strong, face filled with stoicism as she joins Flash's glare directed at Peter.
Heels inappropriate for this kind of January weather (even if it is a warmer season, this year) click-click on the linoleum, heading straight for the three of them staring each other down: Flash's death glare to Peter, Peter's defensive looks back at him, but then also his confused glances towards Gwen, and Gwen's silently powerful, communicating scrutiny.
As much as she wills herself to believe that there is nothing between them anymore, she wants to yell at him that this is fake, a hoax. She did this because she needed someone and he wasn't there but Flash was. She wants to yell at him that she thinks about him when her and Flash fool around, and she wishes every second of every minute of every hour that she wasn't in the situation she's in now. And when he looks at her long enough where he might actually have gotten it, the heels come to a stop next to Peter, and there's a sudden ball of red hair hovering near his shoulder: MJ.
She practically throws herself onto him, arms wrapping around his one arm tightly, hand snaking down to lace his fingers with hers. Mary Jane gives a little purr and smiles up at him and the first word that bubbles up on her lips is Why?
Of all people they could be with...and it goes for the both of them.
But she was never his to start with, so she can't say anything.
However, revenge is just as sweet as it is a bitch, and Flash takes Gwen's hand, understanding the situation she's in, gives it a brief peck, than tugs her along to her first class.
They pass Peter and Mary Jane, noticing the look of hurt and irritation in MJ's eyes and the dead look in Peter's eyes. Revenge; does a heart good. Swelling with the prospect of getting back at Peter and MJ mixes with the deflating of realization that Peter has moved on - and to someone like Mary Jane; whatever chance they had left for them to be together...
Well, hell must've frozen over already.
Her and Flash have almost rounded the corner when Peter turns around, extracting his arm from Mary Jane's grip and reaching out to catch Gwen's hand. Flash, however, doesn't approve of any contact between the two of them because he jerks her out of his orbit. His fingers barely brush the back of her hand, but it's enough to make her heart leap into her throat, very similar to the way her heart chokes her whenever Flash kisses her, but very unlike the feelings behind it.
Flash kissing her (and other things) = scared, guilty anxiety. Peter brushing against her = hatred, passion, love, reminiscence, hatred, sadness, hatred, and love.
(Weird how it works out.)
Gwen whips her head around to look back at him, but as soon as those blue eyes reach his brown ones, she instantly regrets it. She's not the only one feeling hatred. His eyes are seething back at her, brown gone black with the speed of lightning and crackling with electricity fueled by abhorrence. Something inside her clicks, and she knows that he hadn't fully believed the rumors (but are they really rumors when they're true?) until now, until Flash's small form of affection. Her body twitches and she hunches over to protect herself, as if Peter's eyes are strong enough to cut through her and see straight into her soul.
She can almost hear his heart breaking over the shattering of her own – again.
His eyes finally release hers and make a bee-line for Flash's strong fingers wrapped around her thin arm. Probably on instinct, Flash tightens his grip and Gwen's arm starts tingling. Peter opens his mouth to say something, but Mary Jane yanks at his shoulder and he's forced around and Gwen uses this time to escape.
Except hiding in the bathroom won't work forever, and she's forced out of there as soon as the bell rings. And she can't hide from Flash forever. He comes to her apartment a little after dinner that evening, and when she sees it's him through the peep hole, Gwen opens the door slowly, her face a mask of solemnity.
And she tells him she wants to go to another movie, and he nods excitedly, and she grabs her coat and doesn't even call out a good-bye to her mother or siblings. In his sports car, she sits silently and watches out the window as icky sleet empties down on the streets and the buildings and every man-made creation New York houses. But when they pull to a stop in the nearest parking ramp, she pounces on him and they go for round three and round four following immediately after.
She bites her lip to stop herself from calling out his name.
They don't snuggle, or cuddle, or anything like that, but rather lay next to each other, breathing erratic and heavy. And then he turns his head to the side to look at her, and asks her if she's his girlfriend. Fighting back tears and swallowing sobs, she nods her head. And she feels so dirty so worthless so slutty for using Flash – who really is a nice guy – and using his body as a way to feel loved again, but not by Flash or anyone else, but by him, and she only achieves this by using imagination. (But she's never had much of that to begin with – Gwen's more of a practical girl.) She's really a terrible person, but he does that to her. His effect on her is so dominant, always leaving her breathless and wanting more and putty in his hands – if he'll even hold her. But the last time he held her was the night she almost died because of the Green Goblin.
And she's staring at Flash again as her mind clears up again and she's reminded that she's not Peter's; she's Flash's. So as his new girlfriend, he asks her to the Winter Formal because it's tomorrow night and what better way to show off the two of them and their new relationship?
An excuse pops into her head: sorry, I can't, I've got to help Dr. Connors on some research. But Dr. Connors is locked away in a cell next to Norman Osborn's and OsCorp is no more, thanks to Stark, and Gwen remembers that she hates science and can't stand it and wants nothing to do with it – especially cross-species.
(But then again, she wants everything to do with them.)
So she accepts and it's the first time he kisses her, really.
They clean themselves up and then he takes her dress shopping, insisting he pays, and she tells him he can't see the dress, and his smile is so big that she has to smile back because it feels natural and he's comforting even if he's a little big, a little controlling, and a little needy, and not him. But then guilt hits her with the force of a semi and there's a tear in her chest and a punch to the gut and she almost doubles over with the pain of it, but she grins and bears it and approaches the rack.
She picks the dress out blindly. All she knows is that it's a dark red and shows more skin than she intended to show, but who really cares? She tries, though, to make herself be excited for Flash and happy for Flash and tries to make herself see that Flash is good for her, but like Allie and Bella, her Noah and Edward is still sailing her brainwaves, constantly there in the back of her mind and the most she can do is put him at bay.
It's hard when he's yelling at her, calling her horrible names and saying terrible things.
Whore! he screams. I wanted you to be happy without me, I told you to do the right thing, and you go for Flash? That idiot? The guy who will never treat you right? You go with him just so you can get some because you can't have me?
She cringes and falls against the wall of her dressing room, silky dress slipping down her body and gently crumpling on the floor.
You slut! You bitch! I told you to be safe and to make the right decisions, and instead you give up science, a job at Stark Expo, your innocence, and you! Your virginity! I thought you could never possibly hit rock-bottom, but it's clear now that you've dug deeper than that.
The first sob rips open her lips, furling and snarling deep in her chest and burning her throat to ashes. She feels as if she inhaled flames.
"No," she whispers, but Mental Peter's voice attacks her again.
And don't think I'm going to help you this time. I'm done with you, Gwen Stacy. I'm not picking up Flash's leftovers. Maybe Mary Jane is the girl for me.
And when his voice dims away and she can finally control her tears and breathing, she understands that she needs to find a way out. She needs to leave everything before she's swallowed in and can't escape, shackled to her past and her present. Because if Peter will only be a part of her past and never her present or her future, she can't imagine life being pleasant. Or long. She hopes her daddy can forgive her for her actions someday.
At school the next day, she peeks around the edge of her locker to see Peter lean down and kiss Mary Jane. She expects it to be brief and dull, but instead Peter's arms snake around MJ's tight waist and her hands claw at his shoulders, pulling him closer, and Gwen goes slightly cross-eyed and feels like she's gunna hurl. She can see their mouth muscles contending with one another and it looks like Peter's really going at it and that funny feeling in her stomach is bubbling up her throat again.
She's about done looking at them when his eyes fly open but, he's still kissing MJ furiously, as if trashing her mouth is a release for some pent up anger. (But MJ's always loved a brooding guy, and it's not like Peter's violent to innocent people (because even though she doesn't want to believe it, MJ is innocent in this – or is she?) so Gwen doesn't worry about her friend.) Gwen halts from shutting her locker, eyes connecting with his and in that instant they turn black again, as if they died and the light ran off to someone else.
So he stares at her coldly and intensely while kissing another girl, and half of her wants to throw something at them and rip them apart and childishly call them sickos, and a quarter of her wants to run to Flash so he can make it all better, and another quarter of her just wants to run away, period. It'd just be so much easier.
(But Peter and Gwen were made for each other – they can't ever be apart – so she stays but the reason is still unknown to her.)
Flash picks her up at 7 that night, looking dapper in his suit. His tie is black because he didn't know what color her dress was – he swears he didn't peek at all – but the corsage he bears and the matching rose in his lapel are bursts of dark blue. She questions his choice of color (her dress and the corsage make up two colors that go together in an all too familiar way - come on, dark red and dark blue? why don't you just slap webs on her purse and call it a day?) and he says dark blue goes with anything, shrugging and smiling stupidly and it's almost like his stupid smile.
Swallowing a large lump in her throat, Gwen smiles mechanically and poses for pictures under her mom's request and then they're off to the school because the budgets have been low and they couldn't afford a nice place to eat because of the Lizard incident that ruined a good quarter of the school and created pricey construction to be done. Flash hopes that they'll have a nicer place for when they go to Spring Prom.
There are more pictures to be taken once they get to the school, some with Gwen's friends and some with Flash's friends (there was that one picture where she sat in between Flash and one of his cronies as they placed kisses on both of her cheeks – she nearly died of embarrassment), and then dinner is served immediately and they're seated at a table with none of Gwen's friends and all of Flash's and she's forced to sit next to Alicia Juers (bad choice). But the food's not bad, and Alicia actually is amusing to listen to as she drones on and on about the gossip of the school (apparently Michelle Ackerman did it with Grant Johnston – can you say wow?) and when the music starts up, the beat and the atmosphere are too intoxicating for her to fight and she gives in when Flash offers her his hand.
She's not a good dancer – trust her, she knows – but she still manages to plaster a smile to her face as she dances with Flash through the classics and One Direction and Katy Perry, but when Justin Timberlake's 'Sexy Back' tunes up, she turns and heads straight for the ladies room. (They might have sex, but she is not dancing sexy with him.)
And it's on her way to the bathroom when she spots them, in a corner of the gym, pressed against each other tightly and looking like neither will be coming up for air any time soon. She hopes he survives – and she doesn't.
While standing and staring, the first slow song begins and she feels just a tiny bit guilty for not being there with Flash:
Guess mine is not the first heart broken
My eyes are not the first to cry
I'm not the first to know
There's just no getting over you
You know I'm just a fool who's willing
To sit around and wait for you
But, baby, can't you see
There's nothing else for me to do?
I'm hopelessly devoted to you
Is it weird to think that she should join in, just like the cheesy cliché musicals? (Except she follows Glee like a hawk, so she shouldn't be saying anything when she's got a stash of posters of Mark Salling in her closet.)
Her heart feels like it got run over by a bulldozer, flattened to a pulp as she watches them struggle with each other over who's the more dominant. In the back of her mind, she thinks of why he's suddenly so…dark and aggressive. All he did was handle her with love and passion and tenderness, but it looks like he's throwing a fit inside of MJ's mouth. She should feel special that he's treating MJ like trash, but MJ is her friend, and she still can't get over the fact that Peter's kissing someone that someone's not her.
Nausea forces her to sprint as fast as her heels would let her to the bathroom where her meal comes up then goes back down as she flushes it in the toilet. Empty and exhausted, Gwen rinses her mouth out and fixes her makeup and fiddles with her hair done to perfection in a neat nest of blond curls pinned to her head like a crown sitting near the base of her neck. She looks at herself and someone else would say they see perfection, but all she sees is a disgusting, insignificant, selfish creature that's lost and alone but deserves no sympathy because this is what she gets for using a boy while loving, craving, hungering for another.
The song's not yet done when she reaches Flash again, and he gently pulls her onto the floor, holding her close and whispering "I'm glad you're my girlfriend." They rotate slowly, and she hopes the couples surrounding them are too preoccupied with each other to notice the tears that leak from between her eyelashes. When she finally looks up from Flash's now damp coat, she notices the couple in front of her.
Pretty girl in a pale pink dress that clashes impeccably with her red hair that curls down her back; a vision of radiance and magnificence that hurts Gwen to look at. Scruffy looking guy with the tousled but perfectly disheveled hair looking extremely uncomfortable yet flawless in his tuxedo. The girl's back is turned on her, and when she glances up at the boy, his eyes are suddenly boring into hers. Dark. Inexpressive.
"Peter," she whispers. The first thing she notices is how red his lips look, raw and slightly puffy from the heated kisses he exchanged with the girl he holds now. Flash stirs against her, but doesn't say anything.
And Gwen and Peter eye each other down, communicating silently though no words are really coming to mind as she looks into his eyes, until the song fades out and a new, faster one starts up. Peter and Mary Jane stay, Flash and Gwen leave.
He asks her if she's okay when they sit back down at their table. She replies that the room's just making her stuffy, so he leaves to get her something to drink. As soon as he's gone, she's scanning the crowd for Peter and MJ again, searching for the unkempt brunette towering over the fiery red-head. Gwen looks away quickly when she's sees them tongue wrestling again until Peter breaks away, a breathless, slightly disgusted look on his face and drags her away from the dance floor.
When Flash comes back, she takes the drink quickly and sucks it down, barely acknowledging the bitter taste to it that kind of says she might have just downed some alcohol. Then she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him close because if Peter Parker has no problem with displaying his physical relations with MJ, than she doesn't either. Inhaling sharply, she slaps her lips to Flash's.
It could be hours later, but when they pull away she says not too quietly that she wants the full experience and some people beside them turn to look at her, and Peter and MJ just so happen to be two of them. (Why are they suddenly everywhere?) But Gwen doesn't see.
Flash agrees quickly because even though he's a guy who cares, he's a guy - and a teenage one, at that - so he's always, always in the mood and if a girl offers, his first instinct is to accept. They plan to meet in the hallway outside of Mr. Sanders's Chemistry room five minutes from now, just enough time for Flash to find himself a condom. The sly smile on her face she braved for Flash slips away as soon as he departs, and she finds she's shaking again. But getting with Flash is the only thing that will calm her down, unfortunately; yeah, she's that desperate.
Gwen turns for the door but stops suddenly, shaking even heavier when she sees just how close Peter is to her (and shaking at the expression on his face - he looks murderous; she wonders why), then slips past the two of them and weaves through the crowd of people for the door. If she wants her peace, she'll get it, and screw it, she doesn't care how she gets it.
The hallway is dark, the overheads being shut off and the only source of light coming from the gym, but Gwen knows these halls like the periodic table of elements and finds her way to Mr. Sanders's door in no time at all. Windows in the hallway cast orange squares on the linoleum from the streetlamps outside and Gwen stares at them and tries to think about ways of escaping this messed up life but it's too good to let go of yet, even when it's so not her and so very wrong.
Footsteps break up her thoughts. (Flash's back with the condom. Great.) But the shadowy figure standing alone at the end of the hallway doesn't have the same frame as Flash. He's thinner, but not too thin, and maybe a bit shorter. And Flash certainly doesn't have as thick of hair as she's seeing now.
It clicks instantly, and she gasps a little, two pathetic sounds. Peter's here.
He comes towards her slowly, hands in the pockets of his pants, face still in the shadows, and Gwen's trembling not because she's scared of him, but because she's scared or what's to come. She doesn't know if she wants to hear what he has to say.
But Gwen Stacy is a strong woman; even if she's been stripped of all self-esteem, she damn well has all of her self-confidence. Standing up straighter, Gwen pushes a loose strand of hair from her eyes and frowns at him through the dark.
"Come to tell me the pros of abstinence?" she sneers, and he stops suddenly, but she plows on. "Or the cons of sex before marriage?"
He's silent and she rolls her eyes because he's just so stubborn and difficult and immature and absolutely perfect.
"I just wanted to make sure you're okay," he says so softly, so caringly, she feels like slapping him but she can't see his face so it makes trusting him harder. She laughs.
"You wanted to make sure I was okay? Why do you suddenly care if I'm okay or not now? Why not...oh, let's say 3 months ago? Or 4 months ago?"
She receives no reply.
"Okay," Gwen laughs again without humor, crossing her arms over her chest. "I see...but if you must know, I haven't been okay since last September. I haven't been right since my father died and my boyfriend...left me." Oh, shit, she didn't plan on crying tonight- "And then it got worse when I almost died then almost got my boyfriend back, but didn't. And now it's just gone downhill from there. And here I am, physically tied to a guy I want to love so much but can't because I'm too selfish and too absorbed in the one that got away. I gave my time to him, but I still can't love him. I gave my kisses to him, but I still can't love him. I gave my virginity to him, but I still can't love him." Peter exhales sharply, and Gwen looks up at what she thinks is his face. A sarcastic smile paints over her lips and morphs her face cruelly. "At least the fucking's good-"
He doesn't give her a chance to say anything before Peter lunges, hands shooting out to grab Gwen by the shoulders and push her into the wall. His face comes out of the shadows, livid and intrepid, and gives Gwen an inch of room from her own face. Their breaths mingle together for one hot moment while she heaves for air that was scared out of her by him and he sucks in pointlessly, breathlessly, anger making his breathing erratic.
There's a dull sting in her shoulder from it hitting something, but other than that she's fine. Perfect, really, because Peter is here and holding her and not a part of her imagination. Slowly, his hands remove themselves from her shoulders and are placed above her head against the wall, cornering her in but she can't think of a better position to be in, right now.
"Flash-" she begins because she's a strong girl and will hold on to her will and stubbornness. (But if this boy comes any closer, oh, she's done.)
"Clearing things up with Mary Jane," he murmurs quickly, his lips almost a swift vibration.
The air is so hot and so thick and electricity is being injected into her by the watts with each passing second they stand like this and she doesn't think she can handle his lips being so close to hers anymore without actually touching them- She belongs on his mouth in his mouth around his mouth because she wants to be his.
Flash long forgotten, Gwen opens her mouth to speak: "What're you waiting fo-?"
And his mouth is on hers. It's as easy as that.
But he's so much different this time; rough, demanding, forceful and controlling. He pries her mouth open with the quickest of moves from his soft lips, and his tongue strikes at hers like a cobra. She moans into his mouth as the familiar shape of it registers in her mind. Yes, this is surely where she belongs.
She forgets about Flash and MJ because they aren't important anymore. She has Peter and that's all she needs. And when Peter's hands slide down to pin hers to the wall above her, the same thrill of excitement and danger she got when she swung with Peter that one time courses through her, and an adrenaline rush fires up in her chest. Flames lick at her core as Peter's harsh, frantic lips move from her mouth and skim the curve of her jaw. His teeth graze the smooth skin gently, going down down down until he reaches a point on her neck that's the perfect place for his mark
And his mark she gets.
Her hips jolt up to meet his as soon as his teeth sink down on her skin. Chain reaction; he groans and presses his pelvis into hers forcefully and sucks even harder at her exposed neck. The pain somehow brings delight as his hips grind into hers and the skin under his mouth starts to swell and color, and when he's satisfied with his work, he releases her neck and glides his tongue over the coarse flesh he created. Another moan escapes her tight lips, but by this time she doesn't care. She wouldn't take this back for the world.
Peter's so new and so rough but it feels great and it feels passionate and it feels like them - just uncivil - and she's about to moan his name this time when one hand claps over her mouth, just as her eyes roll back. Peter starts another mark, teeth grazing then sinking in, and Gwen gets a little confused; it feels great but where is her say in this? She wants to kiss him - now.
"Peter," she tries saying through his hand, but his fingers dig into her cheeks, quieting her instantly.
"Shut. Up," he whispers between kisses peppering her neck.
And that's when she gets a little worried.
Peter may be different, but he'd never be this...controlling. Or abusive, if you want to call it that. (Because it's kinda leaning towards it.)
"Peter-" she tries again, wriggling beneath him to get his attention. This time, his head snaps up from her neck and he's staring at her so intensely. He removes his hand from her mouth and places it next to the hand holding the both of hers, coming ever closer to her.
"Is this what you want, Gwen?" he croaks at her lowly. "An emotionless way to throw yourself in the trash just to get a few moments of bliss?" He's almost panting into her mouth, and he licks his lips for a second. "Do you even care if you're treated right? Or is a good, pointless, fucking all you need?"
"Peter," Gwen blinks. "It's not like that - that's not what I meant-"
"Well, it looks like that, Gwen. And it doesn't help when half of the guys in the halls are telling stories about you going around and giving everyone a little joyride."
"Peter, I never-"
"Do you know how hard that was for me, hearing those things and trying not to believe them? But when I realized that you and Flash were real...Gwen, you nearly broke me."
His eyes swivel back and forth between hers and she wonders where the good boy had gone. What changed him? And if this is the only Peter she can have, she doesn't know if she wants him. Her Peter is far better than this one.
And then he's breathing too fast for his own good and she realizes he's about to cry. Her Peter is still here, he's just been hiding. Slowly, cautiously, she cranes her neck to lean forward and press her lips gently to his, but he groans and leans away, eyes hardening and teeth gnashing. A sinking feeling takes over and she knows that she's going to lose this. Maybe she should've let him go on with it, but something tells her he wouldn't have, because Peter's too good for that. So maybe she'll just have to go on.
"No, don't," she starts. "You can't, not after what I went through. Not after what you went through." She licks her lips in anticipation, coming as close as possible to him. His heavy breathing ceases when her mouth is close enough for him to poke his tongue out and taste. She could kiss him now, and he might kiss back, but she doesn't because she's good too. But a kiss that is never tasted is forever and ever wasted.1
"You want me to finish?" he whispers, his voice almost getting lost in the deserted hallway. Peter's hand comes up for his fingers to graze her cheek, and the old Gwen might have leaned into them and smiled at him gently. But she's not really her anymore and she wants something, so she grabs his fingers and brings them to her waist. They instantly curl around the silky fabric of her dress.
"Yes – I mean – no, not like this. I want you completely and to stay and to be with me again. But if all I'm going to get from you is tonight, then…I'll take it."
Her fingers grapples around to grab his other hand and place it on her waist, and she presses against him deliberately. Peter stares at her with his eyes half closed, impossible to read, but shining in the weak lighting from the street outside. His face maybe falls a bit, but he backs her up against the wall anyway, not saying anything so she doesn't say anything either.
He looks a little dead.
"You really want me that badly that you'll take whatever you can get?"
"You don't know the effect you have on...It's not that simple."
His eyes flash and open wide, staring her down so fiercely that a small part of her cowers, but she doesn't even blink and stares right back. And with a groan so soft she's not sure if it was real or not, Peter presses forward, attacking her lips with rushed, hot, open-mouthed kisses and she's recovering from shock and her eyes are rolling into the back of her head and she can't help thinking that yes, yes.
Gwen's hands tangle into his hair, tugging, pulling, but carrying him closer and closer, pushing him farther and farther, bringing him deeper and deeper. She feels him hard against the inside of her thigh and that's when she really assesses everything; this is happening. But why does it not feel right?
Oh, she knows why.
But it doesn't matter because Peter would never go back on her father's words anyway, even if they were in different situations, so she might as well enjoy it.
Peter's lips pass her mouth again, sticking to the trail they created earlier as they travel down her throat. He kisses his mark gently and Gwen sighs, then he lifts his head to look at her.
"You're always on my mind," he pants lightly. "I may not have you, but you're still my everything. But tonight…tonight you're mine."
And Gwen swears she might have just exploded right then and there at his words because she can't feel anything anymore and the only things supporting her from collapsing are Peter's hands and her heart's just as irregular as his breathing and her insides have twisted into a giant pretzel, because she's young and in love, and that's what young love does to you. A promise has been made for tonight: they'll have each other (because they're in love and anything else won't do), but then they'll forget because what they're doing is illegal because the world doesn't seem to want them together.
(But little do they know that Peter and Gwen were made for each other, and the world wants them together more than anything; it's just their stupid teenage pride getting in the way.)
And the unfairness of it brings small tears to her eyes and she gives a soft whimper, his lips a mere inch hovering over hers, and looks up at him pleadingly. "I love you."
She doesn't know what came over her, but all she knows is that something switched inside of him and he's holding her differently and looking at her differently and he's pulling away and she thinks he's leaving again, but this time, he pulls her with him.
"I know," he says softly, the first smile appearing on his lips in a long time as he secures her to him with his arms. "I love you, too."
And it's the first time he's said it and Gwen can't believe that they've come this far this fast. But it's okay with her. Peter tugs her closer (if that's even possible) and holds her like that as he guides her down the hallway and back into the gym. (He told her he wanted her to have as nice of a night he could give her - and that included finishing the dance.) Panic rushes through her as she thinks of Flash – and Mary Jane – but when everyone's awkward, pointed looks at them (and the marks on her neck) lead them to the middle of the gym, she drops the feeling as well as her jaw.
A small clearing has been made for MJ and Flash as the two hold themselves in positions similar to the ones Peter and MJ were holding themselves not so long ago. It explains the awkward looks. Another Grease song strikes up, one Gwen's always been fond of but the reason was always unsure.
There are worse things I could do
Than go with a boy or two
Even though the neighborhood thinks I'm trashy
And no good
I suppose it could be true
But there are worse things I could do
Someone in the large crowd of people coughs loudly, and MJ and Flash jump apart, faces flushed and warped slightly. They look embarrassedly around, not looking at anyone for more than a second, but when both of their eyes land on Gwen and Peter's arm wrapped around her, they freeze.
There's a moment of orderly silence – everyone knows of Peter's and Flash's rivalry, and Gwen's and Mary Jane's friendship. So what's going to happen? A fight? A verbal battle? Will people be taking sides? And who will ask for forgiveness? But it's very clear that MJ and Flash are the 'It' couple, almost made for each other as much as Gwen and Peter are made for each other; it's also very clear that the Parker kid was never over Gwen Stacy, even if he did break up with her, and Gwen's so devoted to him that it's hard picturing her with anyone else because everyone has to admit that Parker and Stacy together are like those last two puzzle pieces.
Necessary and completing.
But still it comes as a tidal wave of shock when Flash hooks his arm around MJ's waist and gives Peter a quick nod and Gwen a small, apologetic smile, and Peter tightens his grip on Gwen and offers a shy half smile towards MJ who accepts it and passes it on to Gwen. Gwen smiles back. They understand, just like everyone else. Everybody winds up kissing the wrong person goodnight.2
The tension dissipates and students start ambling onto the dance floor again. Flash and MJ run off somewhere and Peter and Gwen stay there silently, mulling over everything and probably pinching themselves to make sure this is real. Then Peter gently pulls Gwen in front of him and holds her close and spins on the spot because this is tonight and for tonight it's them.
I could hurt someone like me
Out of spite or jealousy
I don't steal and I don't lie
But I can feel and I cry
A fact I'll bet you never knew
But to cry in front of you,
That's the worst thing I could do
(The whole time she couldn't tell if his smiles were genuine or not.)
They leave the dance before most, hailing down a taxi and climbing in quickly because the air is so cold. Peter throws her address at the cabbie and sits back, turning his head to look at her. It's a little uncomfortable and it takes her a while to summon enough courage to look back at him because she doesn't know what will happen now or later or (here comes the shaking) in the morning.
She sits quietly, wondering if she should reach out and grab his hand or move away from him because it won't help her at all. Tonight is the night to live and then grieve and move on and grow up. Peter is her past and Gwen's never been one to dwell over that. (Yeah, just look at how nicely she got over her father's death – and him! And in such short time!)
By the time the cab pulls up in front of, she's gathering her dress in her fist and twisting it into knots and she knows her mother will be horrified and will ask just how on earth she got her dress to be like that, but Gwen could care less because this is awkward and this is sad and pathetic; they shouldn't have to resign to this, this should come naturally and without planning or compromising because he's the king of being spontaneous.
But the raging desire inside of her shuts those thoughts up because it wants something, and complaining and whining and wishing for spontaneous love-making because the both of them want to won't solve anything.
Damn it, though; she just loves him too much! So in the deserted lobby, she throws her arm out in front of him before he can reach the elevator – ignoring the animalistic side of her growling in protest – and takes his hand to get him to face her.
"Peter, we don't…I was being stupid and selfish. Maybe you should just – just go home."
And he looks at her so fiercely again that she's pretty sure she's burning on the inside and the animal side is rearing in anticipation but Gwen's a strong woman and holds her ground and stays true to her resolve. This is just unfair to the both of them; if they do this, they'll hurt even worse than they did before.
"I'm not doing this just for you."
"Well then, what are you doing it for?"
His eyes have probably lit her dress on fire now.
"I'm doing it for us."
She stumbles back on her heels but he catches her in time, face falling into one of extreme pain. He opens his mouth to talk but nothing comes out and he sits there gaping at her for a brief minute, jaw closing and opening as he struggles to talk coherently. She hopes whatever he has to say is good.
"Gwen, I can't – anymore, I can't…we…god, I need you. I'm sorry, I'm sorry that I – I wasn't there and then I kissed you and…ignored you." He gulps and her lips start quivering into a frown. A promise has been made tonight, but it's about to be broken. Because Peter and Gwen are made for each other – and to keep them apart is to kill love and take the joy from the world.
"But I said it before, you're my everything-" His deep metrical composition touches her heart so forcefully she gives a soft cry, even if it is one of the cheesiest things she's ever heard. He's awkward and far from charismatic, but he radiates a chemistry that only she can match so by that, they get each other. "And this will be hard, and we're going to have to work really hard. I guess that's why I was avoiding it in the first place…but it's worth it – you…you're worth it. It's what I want and – and it's what you want, and I'm just sorry I didn't give it to you earlier."
And he says it in her lobby, the most unromantic place in the world, the most unimportant, but suddenly it is because he said it in her lobby and above all, he said it. Peter Parker wants her back, and he came back apologizing – not crawling, but that's okay with her – and he came back wanting her so much and now they don't have to worry about what happens after and the hurt they'd have to endure when he would wake up before her and leave and she would wake up later and he wouldn't be there. Peter Parker wants her back, and that's all that matters.
The groan she releases is her war-cry, the start of the perennial battle between the two of them: push against pull to see who can bring the other closer, grip over grasp to see who can hold the other tighter, heave over huff to see who can kiss the other longer. And he strikes back immediately, all plans of action forgotten because they skipped the negotiations. They're done making promises:
This. Means. War.
But not here. The battle grounds are far from proper – unless they'd like to play dirty and scare the neighbors while they're at it. (Literally.) So she retreats, drawing her weapons and her aids with her, and wheezes out her demand all while trying to manage light-headedness:
Oh, upstairs. The possibilities.
The elevator doesn't come fast enough for the two of them, that hunk of junk piece of metal, so she takes his hand firmly and bursts through the exit and into the stair room. Twenty flights to go, but it doesn't seem to faze him. With a wild look, he hooks her arms around his neck and lifts her from the ground, letting her wriggle her way onto his back with surprising agility and ease.
"You better hold on tight, spider-monkey."
Remember: they're young and in love and teenagers – stupid, emotionally controversial teenagers – who have been to hell and back within hours plus, and never find as much peace as they do when they're with each other. So she throws her head back and laughs because she's the one who told him to watch Twilight in the first place. But Edward's quote fits, and it's perfect for him.
And the stairs rush past her as he hops a couple and sprints up a couple and skips a whole flight with a flick of his wrist and a flash of a biocable, and she's quickly growing impatient and because this is their night, dammit, but patience is only love waiting. And absence - or waiting in this case - makes the heart grow fonder.
(Except that's ridiculous because she's pretty sure she has no other love to spare to anyone because it's been taken hostage by him.)
He might have broken her front door - maybe - because she can't remember if her mom said she'd leave it unlocked or not when her and the boys would leave for Grandma's. (Gwen's mother is under the impression that she's staying at Mary Jane's; oh, Helen, never trust a teenager on her school dance night.) Which is a good thing because they'd have a lot of explaining to do if Gwen's mother was sitting at the kitchen table when the two of them busted in.
Peter drops her once they're inside and she falls to her butt and he laughs openly (and very loudly) at her expression, and the crazy thing is she can't help but laugh back. It dawns on her after they've had a laughing fit together and are currently raiding her father's old booze freezer that maybe they're a little drunk but were too serious to notice it before. That would explain all of his cheesy lines and her highly inappropriate behavior for the night.
But they're teenagers; does it have to be repeated again?
She eventually kicks off her heels and climbs onto the couch and starts jumping - on her mother's $7,000 couch - and he watches her with wide eyes from the chair across from her, his - second, third, fourth glass of tequila mixed with Kool-Aid (a creation made by Gwen) in hand. She's already downed her share.
This is their night to be young, wild, and free and themselves and with each other, but they both know that more of those are to come, now, and when the alcohol dissolves somewhat, the break is over, and the battle starts again. They end a laughing fit in silence - heavy, anticipated, heart-in-your-throat silence that scares and thrills you at the same time. She'd stay like that forever if he wasn't so addictive. Then the plans of attack start forming, and she meets his steady yet wobbly gaze and graces him with a soft smile.
It hits the breaking point, the silence boiling over into tiny explosions as they move towards each other at the same time, meeting in the middle and hovering over each other like a fly does to a web; teasing and intense and with a certain ulterior motive that drives the other insane with desire and lust. Their plans of attack match each other's, but it's soon clear that he gets the upper hand.
His hand swipes the loose hairs from her eyes, smoothing them back into her perfect updo which they both know will be destroyed within a matter of minutes. Her eyes close as the calloused skin touches her so gently, and she idly wonders why his hands are so rough when he always wears gloves. There's a brief meeting of eyes before she leans into him, her head resting on his shoulder, and her heart does a little flip and ricochets around a bit. His lips touch her hair, grazing the blonde strands with a sort of reverence only reserved for ones that are loved with the utmost unbridled passion, then slip down to the skin behind her ear and start his cautious exploration into enemy territory. Her breath comes out in a sharp puff as soon as he works his way down, nose gliding along her exposed neck. She holds on to his shoulders firmly to keep herself stable before she collapses with the zealous impatience of his kisses that leave her so warm and wanting more more more.
But as she grows accustomed to his lips leaving trails up and down her throat (and sometimes on her shoulders-), her breath levels and her heart rate levels and it's her move, now: the belt. Fingers tapping down his front, they finally find their destination, and ignoring his sharp intake of breath and the way his lips suddenly drove into her skin, she pulls it loose and snakes it out of the loops. He's so thin, they almost fall off him right then and there as they kneel on the ground, but Gwen supposes it must be that ass of his that keeps them on.
"Gwen," he says against her neck, but she shushes him.
"You're my everything, too."
He groans and then suddenly he's all over her neck, matching the fervor he had back in the hallway and there goes her breathing again. But her fingers don't fumble when they unbutton his pants and slowly slide the zipper down.
If she didn't notice him before, she does now.
He breaks away from her neck to look down between their two bodies, then back up with an expression that says he's really sorry, but doesn't quite know how to say it. She giggles and smiles and yanks his neck down so he can kiss her and she feels oddly buoyant and weightless because she did that to him.
Her fingers slide into the sides of his pants and she gently pushes them down and past his hips until they fall to the ground in a crumpled pile around his knees. She feels him bite his lip against her mouth and almost laughs again at how insecure he is; he shouldn't be, though. (Has he even seen his body lately?)
"My turn," he breathes when she ducks away from him, sly smile forming as her next move does, too. She closes her eyes and inhales deeply.
"You'll have to catch me first."
His eyes fly open, but she's already out of his arms and across the living room, scooping up his shoes, heading for the hallway and waving his belt behind her. There's a loud crash that tells her he probably fell when trying to get up due to the pants around his knees, followed by the sound of some scuttling of socked feet slipping on polished wood floors. Their hallway is long and Gwen's halfway down it when he emerges into it. She turns around to look back at him and wave his shoes at him, and he gets this playful look on his face before taking a running leap onto the wall and crawling along it faster than him running would be.
Gwen gives a shriek and tosses one of his shoes at him, scrambling to find the door to her room before he catches her, all while laughing hysterically at the sight of him in his briefs with his dress shirt untucked and his socks still on because he practically screams DORK, but with a side of sexy and suaveness. He crawls onto the ceiling and drops in front of her once she's backed against her bedroom door, smiling grimly as if asking for an apology. She just smirks back, looking up at him playfully through her eyelashes until a laugh bubbles up.
"You know, you kind of looked like Tom Cruise from 'Risky Business' for a minute there."
"That's what I was aiming for," he chuckles, leaning in to press her even further against the door while his hand searches for the doorknob. He grabs her waist and flings the door open when he finds it, and they stumble in awkwardly, laughing at themselves with their smiles so wide and their lips so frantic on each other's.
And they kiss and they kiss and they kiss until it's too much and the tension is too big and the room is too warm and filled with too much electricity. He places a hot, open-mouthed kiss in the dip between her collarbone, his teeth grazing and his lips sucking, and pushes down the thick straps to her dress.
"This dress nearly murdered me," he mutters sluggishly once his lips are back on hers and prying them open. Her tongue darts out to meet his in a caged fight, refusing to back down until he moans and gives in and grants her entrance.
"Sorry," she breathes back. "But I'm glad you like it."
He makes a noise in the back of his throat that sounds like a laugh cut off and swallowed by her, and she grins against his mouth.
After a few seconds of floundering - and growling - Peter takes a hold of the zipper and pulls it down, all the way down. And that's when things become serious again for the two of them, and they both release each other's mouths to look at the other clearly. Like his pants, her dress falls the ground slickly and crumples at her feet and she steps out of it quickly and kicks it unceremoniously to the side. His eyes let go of hers to look down (thank you dress for built-in support - no need for hard bra clasps to handle), and after a quick moment he looks back up at her gradually, smiling nervously with that cute pout of his. She smiles back and guides his hands to her hips to help push down the lacy pair of underwear she snatched from her drawer this morning and she can feel his fingers shaking greatly.
"You and me, Pete," she whispers, pressing her lips to his forcefully, but tenderly. He sighs so softly and brings her closer, backing her up until her calves hit the bed and they tumble onto it, sucking in breaths excitedly and crushing their lips together again.
The battle rages on.
Her neck and collarbone is worshiped by his mouth, her breasts peppered with a million tiny kisses; he massages her legs as he uses his lips to sign his name into the flesh of her stomach. She runs her hands up and down his back, sometimes stopping at his arms to squeeze and dig her nails into his biceps, especially when he kisses a there, there spot, and sometimes she squeezes him a little lower. Her fingers tangle into his hair many, many times (he's never had as many knots in his hair as he does now) and it's well past more than once that her bare hips come up to slap against his bare hips because he has long since removed his shirt, his socks, and his boxer briefs.
And when his fingers come oh, so close to her center, the fire in her core burns so powerfully, so hotly, so fiercely, she cries out and a tear leaks from her eye and she demands that he skip that (because she's never been one for that kind of foreplay - the original thing is just fine with her) and get inside of her right now.
And with a moan as soft as his touches, he hovers above her, just high enough where skin barely brushes skin, and kisses her passionately one last time, and she can't help but think how happy she is it's not Flash over her, it's Peter. Because you can't help who you love, you're not supposed to.3
And then he's near, right on the outskirts begging to come in and she kisses his neck and nods against his chest and then he's there and she's already seeing spots and the flames are getting higher and oh- She throws her head back because it feels so good, he feels so good, so perfect. He's shuddering and his arms are trembling and if she didn't know it's all because of ecstasy she might've thought he was having a seizure, it's that powerful.
They're no virgins to sex, but they are virgins to love-making, and the reality of it crashes on them as their physical bliss crashes on them and it tangles together just like their breathing: hot, passionate, love.
And when they empty and they come down from their high, they lie on their stomachs next to each other, smiling softly like maniacs and drinking each other in deeply, as if the both of them could never get enough. She reaches a weak hand up to trace a heart in the deep valley between his strong shoulder blades, and he almost purrs at her touch. Is it possible to want more already?
"What are you thinking about?" she whispers, and he reaches his hand up to stroke her cheek. She flushes at his touch, but leans in to it anyway.
"You really want to know?"
A quick nod.
Unfortunately, Peter's got a curfew - the strictest one his aunt has ever enforced on him, and of course he has his nightly rounds and duties - but Gwen nearly dies when he slides away from her and pulls on his pants and throws on his shirt, so she asks him if he can come with; she'd absolutely love to meet his aunt.
Gaping at her with a smile so big it has to hurt his cheeks, he nods and glances at the clock, telling her Aunt May's probably still awake. They might have a little explaining to do when his aunt sees that he left with one girl and came back with another, but Peter's talked to his aunt about Gwen before and if there's one thing his aunt will do is understand.
Gwen pins her hair up again and slides her dress on and Peter zips her up, lightly kissing the back of her neck, then drags her over to the window once she's got her coat and her shoes - and her purse, can't forget her purse (they have appearances to keep up) - and then they're falling off of her fire escape and she's screaming and he's laughing and screaming with her because it's twenty stories.
At Peter's, his aunt opens the door with her robe tied tight around her and her hair in a messy bun, gaping at the two of them with such curiosity and amazement, but a quick look from Peter signals her that this is what it is and how it's going to be, and although her first instinct is to scold him for meddling in love triangles, she smiles warmly and beckons them in because it's so cold.
They laugh, they talk, they eat pie, and they play scrabble well into the night and it's not until 3 when Aunt May looks at the clock and gasps.
"Gwen, you need to be home!"
They don't argue because it is a little weird trying to be normal with Aunt May after that mind-blowing experience – and a little awkward – so Peter calls a cab and helps Gwen get into it reluctantly. They don't kiss or hug because his aunt's watching and they still have some explaining to do because Aunt May was nice enough not to pry, but they hold eyes for a while, both clearly not outside in the cold and in a warm bedroom where their trembling isn't from goose bumps. Gwen bites her lips together, fighting down a smile, because she knows she'll see him tomorrow. And the next day, and the next day.
And as time progressed, they fought – a lot – mostly about her safety, his safety, and the imminent probability that someone would find out Peter's Spider-Man and would make the connection. They separated again because Gwen couldn't take it anymore; the lonely nights of endless worrying when things were terrible out on the streets and he wouldn't stop by her small dorm room until 4 in the morning just became unbearable, and he would always be irritated, sleep deprived, and emotionally drained. So she shoved him back out the window and slammed the window shut, almost waking her roommate.
It was only a matter of hours before she burst into his dorm room just as he was getting ready to go try and get her back.
"They didn't agree on much. In fact, they didn't agree on anything. They fought all the time and challenged each other every day. But despite their differences, they had one important thing in common. They were crazy about each other."4
They nearly kill each other each and every day with their worrying and their arguing and their very large and painful past.
But it doesn't matter that both of them broke each other's hearts and gave themselves away to the wrong people, because those things were only the consequences of them desperate and hungry for each other. But they've learned their lesson now. Her being the unreachable girl he can't have and him being the one that got away just doesn't work for them; so they're tied together, by some unnatural universal force because anything else is strictly immoral and wrong and not right. He needs to be the boy who sneaks in through her bedroom window, because she doesn't want anyone else to and she needs him to. And he needs to sneak in through her bedroom window, too.
Because she's his everything, and without her, he'd be nothing.
And this further proves that Gwen and Peter were made for each other because Mary Jane is a skank and-
Okay, anyway. Thanks for your patience. I'm working on the next chapter for NMFTTH. Update probably won't be for at least another week so I'm going to ask you guys to wait. Please. Thank you. And this has nothing to do with Twilight; I'm simply putting in allusions and making comparisons. I am not basing any of this plot off of Twilight or The Notebook, I was just using adding fluff and other stuff to detail the plot and have it relate to people more.
Any questions or comments? Don't be afraid to ask.
my love addiction
1st Quote: by Billie Holiday
2nd Quote: by Andy Warhol
3rd Quote: by Unknown
4th Quote: by Nicholas Sparks, The Notebook
p.s. Peter lost his virginity to Mary Jane. (YEAH I KNOW, RIGHT? (but why am I even saying this when I made that up myself?))