Spideychelle one-shots

Three Times He Fell

The first time he fell, he was expecting it.

He was training at the Avengers Tower, going through a particularly difficult simulation with no extra web fluid.

He knew the moment he ran out, knew where the mats were and was prepared to curve his body for the impact with the floor.

The second time he fell was a mistake.

He'd messed up, shot his webs and jumped off a building to stop a mugger without checking to see if he had friends; one of them had sliced his webs. He'd tumbled into a dumpster, unscathed except for a few bruises and a slight limp that was gone by morning.

He knew better now than to shoot his webs without looking first, without checking the area; to be fair this was before he had Karen.

The third time, he fell in a very different (if not as inconvenient) way.

It was Thanksgiving. The leaves had fallen from the trees, crunching beneath his feet as he walked home from school. The air was crisp in his lungs, and he smiled, enjoying the fall air.

May got off of work early, which meant that they could celebrate Thanksgiving properly. This usually consisted of them attempting to cook, before messing something up terribly, giving up and ordering in a pizza.

The one thing they always had on Thanksgiving, though, was pumpkin pie, even if they had to buy it from a store. Peter loved pumpkin pie. 

This year was a good one; Peter got home to the smell of pumpkin pie wafting through the apartment. May popped her head up from the oven, smiling widely when she saw him.

"Good, your home! I think my pie worked this year. It's not burnt at least..." she trailed off, studying it. Peter had to admit that it looked and smelled amazing. He hoped that it tasted good too...he still remembered the one year May had accidentally used salt instead of sugar.

"Wow, this is impressive," he said, noting the perfectly baked pie and the fancy dress she was wearing. "Are you going somewhere?"

"We're going somewhere," she said. "We've been invited to dinner at the Jones'"

"At MJ's?" he asked, confused. "When did that happen?"

"Well, I ran into Mrs. Jones at the supermarket, and we got to talking...I just happened to tell her some stories of our cooking mishaps, and once she heard that we sometimes just gave up and got takeout, she insisted we come over to theirs." She placed the pie on a cooling rack, giving Peter a searching look. "Is that okay?"

"What? Oh...yeah! Sounds great," Peter managed, mind spinning.

MJ.

Michelle Jones was smart and pretty and brave, and sometimes, late at night when his thoughts spun out like stardust, Peter thought that maybe- just maybe- he might like her.

And in these fantasies, these late-night reveries, he thought that maybe- just maybe- she might like him back.

But she was smart and pretty and brave, and when he was being honest with himself, he didn't think he had much of a chance. Even if they were friends. Even if he sometimes caught her looking at him. And even if she always smiled at his jokes.

But if she knew he was Spiderman...

If she knew he was Spiderman, would she see him as a hero? Or would she only see the broken pieces of the boy he used to be lurking behind his eyes?

He dumped his backpack on the kitchen table, turning and heading for his room.

"Change into something nice, okay?" May is carefully wrapping up the pie. "We have to leave in fifteen minutes!"