Chapter Text
Peter winced as he made the arduous climb up seven flights of stairs to his apartment. Even with his advanced healing factor, the pain from his wounds would probably last for a couple of weeks at least. Far from ideal, but he really had no right to complain. He’s up and walking around not even a week after taking a fifty-caliber round to the back. Something that would’ve turned your average person into a pile of bolognese sauce with a generous helping of meatballs.
He shook that gruesome thought from his head as fast as it appeared. What the hell kind of visual was that? Those pain meds must not have fully worn off yet.
When he finally reached the door to his “penthouse suite”, he hesitated at the knob with the key in hand. The entire walk here, his mind had been preoccupied with fantasies about flopping on the bed and sleeping for a day straight. Away from all the noise and commotion of the world in his own private domain, just for a little while. However, now that he had finally reached his destination, the idea of being alone was suddenly much less appealing.
Peter stared down at the last few remaining green paint chips which jutted out from the door’s surface before curving upward, as if they were beckoning him inside.
That was as close as he’d get to a welcome home, he supposed.
He placed the key in the keyhole.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He did have E.V. And Tobey, the cellar spider that hung out in the corner of his kitchen near the window. He’d have to make sure to find an extra big fly to toss in his web to make up for the long absence.
He turned the knob and pushed the door open.
The smell of food cooking was the first thing that greeted him. He blinked past the aroma of meat, some of which had definitely burnt, and tomato to see a redheaded girl sitting at his kitchen table. A stray spaghetti noodle hanging from her mouth as she looked up at him in surprise.
Jean Grey.
Peter slowly closed the door behind him and blinked a few times. He was worried now. Just how much of those happy pills had they dosed him with? He’d imagine quite a bit to overcome his body’s naturally high drug resistance. Had they overdone it? Maybe he should’ve stayed in the hospital longer.
Jean slurped up the noodle before awkwardly waving at him, “Welcome back, Peter. I…uh made some spaghetti.”
“Are you real?” Peter asked, staring blankly at her like he’d been struck dumb.
A concerned look passed over Jean’s face,” Uhh…yeah. Are you sure you shouldn’t still be in the hospital right now? You sound a little loopy.”
“I thought you left the city.”
“I did. Well, for a little while. But then…” she paused a moment, clearly trying to figure out how to word what she wanted to say next. “Okay, I’ll just be honest. I was worried about you. You shouldn’t be all by yourself right after you almost died. And after what you did for me…it really is the least I could do.”
Peter kept staring at her dumbly.
Jean swallowed nervously before rising from her seat, “I can go, though. I totally get if you want to be alone right now.”
“No, it’s fine,” Peter quickly interjected, causing Jean to stiffen in surprise. “It’s not like you have anywhere to go. And I don’t want you wandering the streets right now either. Not when Damage Control is looking for you.”
“I can manage,” Jean replied.
“I’d rather you not test your luck. Besides, having company is a welcome change,” Peter said, smiling.
Jean smiled back, relief obvious on her face despite her attempt to mask it.
Peter glanced down at the massive bowl of spaghetti centered on the table, and his mouth immediately began to water. The only food he’d eaten over the past week came in the form of sludge shoved down his throat through a plastic tube. It might’ve been enough had he been a regular human, but his accelerated metabolism meant that his body had basically been coasting off the bare minimum of tasteless nutrients.
Jean snorted, “Just hurry up and start eating already. You look like a starving wild animal.”
“Yes mam,” he said matter-of-factly before plopping himself down at the table and dropping a mountain of noodles and meat onto a plate. “Didn’t take you for a chef.”
“I’m not. Spaghetti’s all I know how to make. And I barely managed that if you couldn’t tell from the burnt meat smell in the air.”
“Tastes fine to me,” he said, already having mauled half the plate.
Jean shook her head, “Of course you’re saying that. The only food that was in this apartment when I got here was ramen noodles, instant rice, protein powder, and a rotisserie chicken.”
Peter rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, “Yeah, I go through a whole chicken every two days at least. Takes a lot to fuel daily street brawling with supervillains.”
Jean shook your head, an amused smile creeping over her face, “You’re such a caricature of a 20-something bachelor; it’s insane.”
“Bite me,” Peter replied playfully before he continued wolfing down the rest of the spaghetti. He expected a snappy comeback from the redhead but was surprised when he received none. He glanced up and saw Jean simply staring at him, an unreadable expression on her face.
Peter wiped his mouth with a napkin and rose to take his plate to the sink. The sudden movement and flexing of his abdomen caused a jolt of pain to shoot through his body, and he involuntarily winced.
“Are you okay?” Jean asked as she quickly rose from her own seat and walked over to him. “Here, I’ll get the dishes; you just need to rest.”
“No, I’m fine,” Peter waved her off, “Just a little cramp is all. I can handle washing a plate.”
Jean rolled her eyes and suddenly the plate and utensils lifted from Peter’s hands and glided through the air before gently placing themselves in the basin of his sink.
“Oh shit, I actually forgot you could just do that,” Peter chuckled.
“Yeah, I can. Now get your ass to bed already,” Jean placed two hands on his back as if she were going to shove him, but she opted to gently push him towards the bedroom instead, “I don’t need you popping your stitches open and bleeding out again.”
“Yes, mother.” Peter wanted to protest more. Stay up and ask her more questions, like how exactly she got back to NYC or how their shared living arrangements are supposed to work. But his gut full of spaghetti was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Fatigue now had full control of his body.
He flopped on his bed and let the fatigue sink through his tissue and down to the marrow of his bones. It didn’t even take a full minute for Peter to be sound asleep.
****
Peter wasn’t sure how long he slept for, but when he awoke it was pitch black outside. He blinked his eyes slowly. Thanks to his spider abilities, he did have naturally enhanced night vision compared to your average person, but it still required some time to adjust to near total darkness. His eyes lazily trailed across his room before freezing.
There was a silhouette in the doorway to his bedroom.
His heart instantly began to race, and he nearly leapt to the ceiling in anticipation for a fight before the fog of sleep lifted from his mind.
It was Jean. Of course it was Jean. Despite only being able to see an outline of her form, he could still make out her trademark messy bun. He waited for her to say or do something, but she just continued to stand in the doorway, staring at him.
He decided to break the silence, “Uh… hey, Jean.”
Jean’s form stiffened, taking a few moments to reply. “Hey, Peter,” she replied breathily before lapsing into silence again.
“What’s up?” Peter asked, starting to feel a little weirded out.
“I heard you making noises in your sleep. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Oh, yeah I’m fine. I appreciate you checking up on me, though,” Peter replied, eyes flicking awkwardly around the room before continuing, “How long have you been…watching me?”
“For a few minutes,” she paused. “Peter, would it be alright if I slept in here tonight?”
He froze in shock for a moment before a sudden realization hit him, “Oh shit, I didn’t figure out somewhere for you to sleep. Were you just sleeping on the couch?” He began to get up, “Here you can have the bed, I’ll take the couch.”
“No, no,” Jean hastily interrupted, “You’re staying in the bed, goofball. You’re the one recovering from a life-threatening injury. I just…wanted to be here with you.”
“In the bed?” Peter asked.
“Yes, in the bed,” Jean said, “If that’s okay with you.”
“Sure, that’s fine,” Peter said, thankful that the darkness was concealing the blush he knew was spreading over his face, “There’s plenty of room.”
“I know this sounds weird, but I just wanted to be here in case you needed anything. Being unable to see you at all while you were in the hospital…it really bothered me. Especially since I was the reason you were there in the first place.”
Peter smiled, “Technically, Frank’s bullet was the reason I was there.”
“A bullet meant for me,” Jean said as she gently pulled up the covers on the other side of the bed and slid beneath them. “Don’t downplay what you did for me. Any other person would’ve let that bullet hit its mark without a second thought. Especially if I had done to them what I did to you.”
Peter glanced over at the girl across the bed from him. She was close enough now that he could make out her wide blue eyes staring directly at him.
“It’s 3 in the morning. Way too early for flattery,” Peter smirked.
“It’s not flattery,” Jean snapped, nearly causing Peter to jump. “You don’t love yourself enough, Peter.”
Peter opened his mouth then closed it again. He really had no clue how to respond to this.
“You don’t deserve to be alone either,” Jean said.
Peter swallowed. Another adjustment of his eyes told him the distance between them had shortened during the conversation. They were less than a foot apart now, staring at each other.
“Well, it’s a good thing I’ve got a new roommate now,” Peter awkwardly chuckled, lying back down and facing the ceiling.
“You do,” came Jean’s breathy reply.
Out of the corner of Peter’s eye, he could still see Jean staring at him. Her head resting on the pillow, a slight smile on her face.