By Sunlight (P.P + M.J)

6. How Far We've Come

Bidding a goodnight to Aunt May, MJ and Peter made there way into the streets. The city was relatively quiet, the roads lit with orange lamplights and the distant sound of car horns breaking the evening.

Despite being hundreds of feet in the air, MJ genuinely enjoyed being swung through the air. The night covered for them, the dark closing off his identity from the rest of the city. As MJ held onto him, her grip that of death, she marveled at the passing buildings and the lights that reflected off the water as they crossed the bridge. They were both pretty quiet, expect for the occasional threat MJ throw out to not drop her or pay dearly.

They finally landed a few blocks from her townhouse, Peter making sure to hit the ground as softly as possible. They walked in silence, gripping each other's hand tightly.

"So, what's up with Jack?" MJ then asked him, breaking the quiet, "you saw that thing happen with him, right?"

"Yeah, but I think he was so tired he just fell asleep with his eyes open," he said jokingly, but MJ's serious expression didn't change.

"Looked a bit off-putting, wouldn't you say?" MJ explained, "has he been acting weird lately, to you?"

"No weirder than usual," Peter replied, unsure about where MJ was going with this.

"It's just that, it seemed a little too weird," she shrugged, "like he was having a war flashback or something."

That triggered a memory for Peter. He suddenly recalled the morning after he and Jack had saved New York. When he had went to see him, Jack said something about his doctor telling him that he may have some kind of mental trauma. But he hadn't taken it too seriously back then. But it couldn't effect him now, after all this time.

Right?

"I still think he fell asleep on his feet," Peter affirmed, tossing the suspicion aside.

"I don't understand how you could miss it."

"Well, I don't tend to stare at him while I'm watching a movie," Peter replied, quirking an eyebrow at her with slight suspicion.

"Please, I was just curious," MJ replied, bumping into his shoulder, "that walking flagpole has nothing on you."

"You think he could be hiding it?"

"He never lets on that there's anything wrong, so if he is, he's good at it," Peter answered, "I'll ask him about it sometime."

"If it's true, don't expect him to own up to it," MJ mused, "but let me say, he's not helping himself by bottling it up."

They stopped talking about their friend after that, and continued their walk in silence. It gave Peter a minute to think of how far they'd come since the start of the year. The two had barely spoken up until the last few months, one could even say they hadn't even been friends. Like many of the other students at Midtown, Peter had been somewhat fearful of MJ, due to her wry wit and fiery attitude when pushed too far. Never would he have imagined that he would be walking with her, holding her hand, being head over heels in love with her.

If you were to tell Peter that he'd be doing all that with Michelle Jones, he would have called you crazy. He knew her then to be the sardonic kid in his class, the one with her nose stuck in a book but knew everything about everyone. She was the one who could debate endlessly on social justice, and roast you in every possible way while she was at it. Back then, Peter couldn't work up the courage to even ask her for an extra pencil. Hell, he would have considered himself lucky if he made it out of the experience alive.

She had been, and still was, a naturally solitary person. Peter remembered a time where he had thought that he would have liked to get to know her better, back when the Decathlon team had their first practice with her as the captain. It was before she had asked him about Spiderman, maybe just a day before.