1963-10-08 - Lost Time
Summary: Making up for lost time, Jen and Pete are ridiculously cute. Damn it.
Related: N/A
Theme Song: None
peter jennifer 

It's been something of a whirlwind since her return from Vienna, where she spent a week and a half. Not that the orderly, tidy apartment with its peculiar fusion of Scandinavian minimalism just coming into vogue and the solid furniture shows any signs of disorder. Maybe a maid service has something to do with the immaculate state or, as no doubt Peter is aware, Jen really just happens to be that organized. All the same, she stands in front of her kitchen with a perplexed look, peering at the contents of her open fridge. Her jade nose is wrinkled, her wild hair raked back from her crown by her long fingers.

Somewhere was a pie. A lovely delicious pie set rudely in the box to cool, instead of resting on the windowsill. Therein, no pie. No tin, either, only a hole in the space. Coffee is already brewed, and her unforgiving metabolism begs for everything up to a roasted aurochs, which probably accounts for why the cheese platter and crackers lie on the table beside several muffins, a dizzying array of fruits and sliced vegetables, and a 'get well soon' card arrangement beside flowers. Signatures? Lieber and Holliway, of course.

"Peter…? Did you see where the apple pie went?" Because the inestimable Menace of Manhattan would know. It's her phone call that invited him here anyways. She chews on her lower lip.

It's probably the first time in his life he's seen her in 'casual' wear… skin-tight jeans — they're going to be, at her height — and a button-down shirt halfway undone, slid off her shoulder to bare the strap of the cotton ribbed tank underneath. Very, very modern and Californian today; nothing at all in ten years.


It's weekend attire assuredly, suitable wear for when a couple just want to curl up together and relax. When he first arrived and gave her the news of what Black Panther did it seemed like a cause for a celebration. So that Friday night they stayed in, perhaps enjoyed some wine and each other, and now… for once, they're taking it easy. As evidenced by Peter Parker strolling out of the back rooms, pulling on his Midtown High T-shirt over his chest, wearing his oh so casual blue knit boxers and stifling a yawn with one hand.

"Didn't you eat it?" Peter asks, and to be fair there might be a fuzzy memory of such, but then again… "I don't think I did. But I did get a bit hungry there at one point." An evening with her does often burn a good amount of calories, to be entirely honest. But he smiles to her, blue eyes bright as he leans in the doorway to loo at her. No, he has no qualms about dating her even if she's stuck in her green form. Though it does tend to make them a bit more of a draw to the eye or the camera when they're out on the town.


"When would I have eaten it?" Jen scrubs her face with her hand, turning back to glance at this maddening, ill-starred young man who flipped her world right-side up. "I was asleep. At least most of the time." No need to point out her need for rest is nearly minimal, for whatever rest her body needs to heal is fractional and she hasn't stepped out of her green form except to squeeze into the shower that otherwise would be too tight a fit for comfort. "Are you suggesting I walked out fast asleep and ate a whole pie, plus the pan?"

There is a distinct glitter of warning in her glowing eyes, a shade of nuclear green.

The corner of her mouth is lifted in a wry, devious angle that portends yet more stiffness and more. "I thought we might go take a spin around Manhattan, make sure everything was going well. Due to stop in eventually at the Baxter Building and see those folks, but that can wait." The fridge door shut, she walks back to the table picks up an apple. This month's grocery bill is going to be hell, she knows it surely. "Murder. I cannot believe you capable of killing someone. Just…" Her eyes shut a moment and she sighs. "…murder, that's an intense charge. The moment someone accuses you of that, make sure to get word to me or one of the senior partners as fast as possible. Please? It's kept me up for days." So has an evil virus and, you know, being the green goddess and all.


"The FF thing is so awkward," Peter crawls up the nearby wall and then sits against it, the balls of his feet supporting his weight as he rests his hands on his knees. Turning his head to the side he watches her and smiles faintly, "They're good people, and I'd like to hang out with them more, but the whole… 'Oh you know Jen? Oh you know Peter? Oh you know Spidey?' thing could get super uncomfortable." He takes a deep breath and crinkles his nose.

But then he gets a slightly down-trodden look to his gaze as he looks aside, "Yeah. About that. I know I should have told you before hand. I was just…" He spreads his hands, "Freaking out a little. I felt like I had to handle it now now now. So I ran around digging up what I could about that Panther person and just… yeah."

Peter shakes his head as he looks back to her, "If it happens again I'll… jeez, I'll make sure you know what's up. Ok?"


Jennifer nods. "Hello, famous superheroes, did you know I am also a superhero? Actually, they do to an extent, but the discomfort would be outing your identity at large. 'Look, this is my favourite squeeze and I also spend hours in the evening with a suspiciously wise-cracking, charming guy too!'" Mimicry comes as she raises her voice to a high falsetto, clasping her hands together and tucking them against her cheekbone. Her cheeky grin fades back away. "Your privacy is a special thing. Mine flew out the window before I stepped foot on that cramped steel tube flung at Paris, then punted over the Atlantic."

She takes a bite out of the apple, which amounts to eating half of it, chewing thoughtfully. The juice glistens on her lips, giving them a plum finish. Then she pulls over one of the solid stools normally up to the counter, and climbs up on it. The reinforced metal groans, but takes her heavy weight easily enough. Gazing up at Peter, her nose wrinkles and erases some of the inherent nobility given by being a predator in an askew shirt. "Yeah. I heard about it and started panicking a bit, except panic and I don't mix well. I am glad I heard about it after the whole event with that weird businessman and someone trying to put a bullet in the back of my head. Actually more like three."


"What happened with that?" Peter reaches forward and snares the apple from Jen's hand, taking it for himself so presumptively and then taking a bite, albeit a smaller one. He chews for a time then hands the fruit back to her, smiling mischievously as he does so. "You mentioned it a little, but I thought you were just engaging in hyperbole."

Though it's fair that both of them often do kind of go a bit towards the exaggerated when relating their days. Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference. "You mean seriously someone tried to assassinate you? What is up with that? I mean… why? You don't even have like a rogue's gallery yet. Who doesn't like you?"

The whole very idea seems baffling to him.


"I went into Harlem looking for this bar and gym someone mentioned in Mutant Town. Bit ballsy of me, being…" She waves her hand up and down the length of her torso. "That was maybe the first day I felt brave enough to see if I could look normal and not feel next to death." The beat isn't missed as she considers the pun, her moss-green eyebrows rising.

Then she leans as far forward in the stool as she can without falling forward and kisses his cheek, unable to resist. "You're a horrible influence on me. As it happened the address was wrong or I ended up a few blocks too far south or west. This fellow thrown out of a building offered to help me find it, and while we were looking for the gym place, someone leaned out a window and shot at me. Maybe more than one person, definitely more than one shot. My escort hid behind a car, this poor woman was struck in the leg… It was awful. Someone was hurt because of me, and I don't even know why. Do they know I'm genetically altered? Do they have a beef with Bruce? Because we're white in Harlem? I have clients there—" Her voice is rising, the anger giving her another two inches in a heartbeat. Fully aware of the churning tide of emotions, she takes a long moment to stare at her bare feet, wiggling her toes.

IT's almost a minute before she speaks again. If he doesn't interrupt her, she breathes out a long, low sigh. "Got mad, jumped a building — I didn't… think I could do that, and took out the spotter. The shooter was getting away, it was a choice of availability. So there's some questioning to be done and that's kind of that. Because I was a lawyer, I guess. I'm representing people that other people fear, hate, don't want around. Black people, yellow people with quills, green people who float, lots. It's your choice if you want to back out, Parker. I'd understand."

It might kill her, but she would.


He'd been listening attentively, leaning forward and then smiling at the kiss. Peter hms, pursing his lips. He frowns a moment, and it's strange to be on this other side of the equation. Usually the people he dates are safe-ish from this sort of thing, not the ones taking the risks. That's his job. But Jen, she's out there making the world a better place too. Only makes sense someone would eventually take a shot at her.

But he frowns and gives a nod as she speaks of dealing with the spotter, then pursuing the shooter. He takes a breath and murmurs, "You're doing the best you can…"

But then she suddenly asks him if he wants to back out and that hits him with a wave of confusion, "What? No. No way. Are you crazy?" Peter smiles faintly then leans forward and grabs her hand with his, "What sort of jerk would I be if I bailed immediately after you had like… a brush with danger. I mean what kind of hypocrite? For the first time I can really empathize with what they felt. That fear and worry about another person who is in harm's way and there because of… well, them being special and choosing to do something for the world. No, Jen. I'm not gonna run off. I'm proud of you."

There's a beat, then he smiles faintly. "Besides, I'm lucky. You're mostly bullet proof."


Most people he dates do not possess the after-effects of lethal doses of gamma radiation, most of it still buried in her bloodstream, dancing around on crazy platelets. He takes risks, he probably survives. Jen takes risks and the city works department cries at the reign of potholes and battered utility lines. All is relative.

Peter's hand in hers gives her pause, and she looks up, green-tinted face darker around the cheeks in a distinct coloured mask that wasn't there before. Blushing in her usual form, normal. Here? Unheard of. Fingers then squeeze around his. "Peter, I'm serious. For just a minute, let me say it would be okay if you took the time to make sure this life is for you. Because this is my life, trying to change how society treats people who are different and therefore vulnerable." Her voice doesn't waver, the conviction bleeding through in every carefully chosen word. "Fighting for them in the courtroom — okay, let's be honest, in the records rooms and my office because no judge is going to let me anywhere near. And fighting on the rooftops and dirty old alleys. You take me to the best places on dates. I'm always willing to stand by you and that means letting you go to live your life, get your degree and be the person your Aunt May — and I — clearly think you will be. Because I'm proud of you too, and more than that, I care about you. A lot. That means letting you do what's best for you."

It hurts to talk. Her voice doesn't lie, nor do the sleek muscles rippling under her skin, the way she curls her toes around the rung of the stool starting to dent it. Hey, better not to notice. "So there's my minute being noble and sacrificial when I really don't want much to change about us. You keep doing what you do for the city and showing up on my windowsill in your jammies, offering me hotdogs like a deranged person." She grins a little. "Your foes are mine, and anyone trying to hurt you I'll turn into a fuzzy pretzel and mail to Wakanda by steamship," a feat, the country's landlocked.


"Wow this is just so…" Peter tilts his head to the side, "So surreal." His smile is gentle as he hops off of the wall and well, looks a little up into her eyes. "Jen…" Peter gives her hand a loving squeeze and takes a deep breath as he listens to her, letting her offer her side of things. It's so strange to him, to be on the receiving end of this dialogue for once. A shake of his head is given, then he looks down.

When he looks up his smile is amused, loving, filled with a warmth that she can feel in his touch. "Ya know how crazy this whole thing is, our shared life and all. The last two women I've cared about deeply, loved, well… I told them something so similar. Now I know how they must have felt."

He steps closer and brushes a hand over a small tendril of her hair in front of her eyes, then touches his lips to her brow before he murmurs, "I think I can handle the craziness with us and all. Just promise to be careful, ok?" And really, that's all he feels he can ask of her for now.


"Surreal?" A bite to her lip gives the distortion of a grin, a punctuation mark out of a puncture. He settles, and Jen reaches out her arms to enfold him in an embrace. Not standard, of course, but so little about the imbalance of height and size ight now is. "Yeah, I guess so. When you told me about everything, it framed it all. I know how it feels, and I know too what the burden is like. Also, the question of where my pie went remains a great mystery. We will have to search."

Her cheek touches his, and she brushes a kiss over his temple, returning the favour of brushing away her silken, dark hair. "I love you." See? She can say it. Not even blushing, she can. "Which makes me a little more volatile when someone pushes buttons around you so okay, we can deal with that. I promise, Peter, to be careful. And to stick by your side no matter what comes."

He can ask whatever he will. She's not afraid of much.


A sigh is given, as he lets loose some of that tension and slips into her arms, holding onto her as well and pulling her to him. Alright so the height difference makes it so that it's rather… comfortable for him to be there, and he laughs faintly to himself before he leans back and looks up at her. "I love you too, Jen." A pause then he shakes his head, "Just seriously… be safe."

And as he says that he stands up on his tip toes, grinning the while as he simultaneously pulls her down to him with his hands on the fabric of that shirt, drawing her into a kiss that has him lifting one foot to point his toe behind him in such lovely happiness.


It helps she sits on a stool and Peter stands, it helps they fit surprisingly well together despite the variations physically. Though when she flexes her legs and does finally take to the floor, being able to tuck him under her chin might be somewhat preposterous so she doesn't bother. Instead, Jen breathes a sound exactly akin to a lion rumbling deep in her throat. "I intend to be. It's not like reporters are banging down my door. Whether I walk down the street like this every day is going to require some calls. To the partners, Bruce, maybe the Four to see whether they're willing to lend any sort of social cover. They aren't exactly secret and if I happen to be their lawyer, it doesn't hurt either. Or the Stark Industries lawyer. Speaking of, I need to talk to Ms. Potts again about that. Maybe Mr. Stark can conjure up some clothes that survive me. I can't be unladylike. I'm a proper girl, at heart."

Then there's a kiss to be savored, stolen harshly, a bite to his inner lip thieved while he is busy kicking his foot back. "Mr. Parker." A warning of their pressed lips, the sweetness for the sting. "Keep that up and I will have you against that wall…"

Her hand over her ribcage speaks to that, even if she has a fierce grin that might give even a grumpy rhinoceros pause, and their temper is legendary.

Good thing he's a spider.

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