Following Threads
Following Threads
Vibrations caused by the booming speakers breathed life into Mary Jane as she danced through the crowded makeshift dance floor of a broadway star's studio apartment. It was amazing! The music guided her movements, causing everyone to take note of her. Of course, her short, reflective dress also helped to catch eyes.
And those eyes belonged to her people. To fellow actors and actresses that lived life every day to the fullest. To live the life of another person and see life through another set of eyes. Every day was a new perspective. A new life!
Everyone here was either an aspiring actor, a broadway star, or someone so well connected that Mary Jane was determined to make a lasting impression. This was her future, and if she could put on a convincing performance for all these trained thespians, she could easily make it her career and put on a good performance for her ex.
Mary Jane had been both relieved and unbearably morose that Peter hadn't come to class earlier that day. She had been dreading seeing Peter. The breakup with Mark had been easy, clean. Thanks in no small part due to the two feet of glass and corded phones they had to speak through. That level of separation did make things easier for Mary Jane, and the fact she would never run into Mark like she would Peter post-break up.
Her cringe never broke from the confines of her mind as she scolded herself for thinking that way about Mark. And even more for lingering on Peter. She had to keep up the facade of Mary Jane Watson, the life of the party and free agent! There was no room on this dance floor for ex-boyfriends, not when she was moving like this!
Mary Jane twirled and bounced to the beat of the drums. She recognized the modern pop song that flowed through her ears and gave life to the rest of her body. She made eye contact with a few men she'd never seen before and beckoned them to come dance with her.
One by one, they made their way over to her like moths to a flame, and one by one, she left them giddily happy. They were all as open as a screenplay to her, and she had her lines perfectly crafted to get her the reaction she wanted. A dazzling smile here, an inviting sway of her hips there, followed by a deliberately breathy line in their ear, had each young man as dumbfounded.
But, of course, as with any good show, it had to come to an end. And Mary Jane could tell when to pull away and move on to the next scene. The first time, she told her partner she had to get a drink just as he started to get a little too familiar with her. The second time, when things started to get a bit too aggressive for her tastes, she got out of it by bumping her hips roughly into her second partner's, sending him into the crowd.
Her current partner had been one she had caught eyeing her from the moment she walked through the door. She had felt his eyes on her the entire night. Though he hadn't really said anything to her, Mary Jane could see the desire hidden behind his closed-off expression. There was nothing exceptional about him, but that worried her all the same. Being looked at when she was on stage or dancing was one thing; having a pair of eyes follow you from the moment you stepped through the door was another. On the dance floor, she accepted the attention with open arms. That was her playground, where she controlled anything and everything.
The drums slowed down, going from the fast, Latin-esque rhythm to something smoother. Ugh, a couples dance?
Hands landed on her waist and tugged her forward. She would've smacked face-first into her partner's chest if she hadn't braced her hands against his chest. Mary Jane looked up at his cocky smirk. "Lady, I like the way you move!"
Mary Jane took a deep breath and fanned her face. "So do I, and this Dancing Queen needs something chilled!"
Her partner's face fell to the earth as she backed away from him and into the crowd. "But, the song just—"
"Oh, I'm sure you can find someone to dance with. With moves like yours, I'm sure you'll go through plenty!" Mary Jane called back, her dazzling smile never leaving her red face. It was actually hot in the apartment, and she did need to cool off and hear her thoughts. Some air on the balcony sounded like a good place to do both.
Mary Jane pushed and weaved her way through the party, snatching a bottle of water from the cooler. She'd taken extra care to avoid the alcohol that night. Out of sight, out of mind, she repeated in her head over and over.
Finally, she opened the door to the balcony, and the smooth rhythm gave way to the bustling New York City nightlife. Mary Jane took a deep breath as she watched the cars and pedestrians walk across, only it wasn't just the cars and pedestrians populating New York anymore. She looked out into the distance and watched as a fireball tore across the city, leaving a trail in the sky that spelled 'Hello New York!' To the left of the Human Torch, Mary Jane watched as the Quinjet rise and take off from Avengers Mansion.
Is Peter on that jet? Where are they off to? Mary Jane shook her head. "It's not your problem anymore," she reaffirmed. She'd said it before when Peter was a no-show for their class earlier and said it to herself every time she heard a siren go off in the distance. "He can take care of himself."
THWIP!
Her ears twitched, and before her brain could tell her no, Mary Jane leaned over the railing. A red blur zoomed across the city below her, and when she blinked, it was gone. The only proof of its existence was the strand of web attached to the building that was blowing in the wind.
Who is it this time? Hammerhead? Tombstone? That new Kingpin guy—no, stop, she scolded herself. "Out of sight, out of mind."
BZZZ! BZZZ! BZZZ!
Mary Jane reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out her phone; her eyes never left the strand of webbing down below her.
"What?"
"Well, that's a fine hello!"
Mary Jane shook her head. She recognized that dry, light-hearted voice. "Ben?"
"That's my name," Ben replied cheerfully, "you'll never wear it out!"
Mary Jane furrowed her brow, then looked up to the heavens, skeptical. "What are you doing?"
"Isn't that supposed to be my line?"
"Can you, for once, please just cut straight to the point?" Mary Jane asked bitingly.
"Can Miss Free Agent put some aloe vera on the third degree she just gave me?" he retorted.
Mary Jane took a breath. "Sorry, you just caught me at a bad time."
"Is there ever going to be a good time, now?" Ben asked, his voice surprisingly small.
Mary Jane furrowed her brow. "What are you talking about?"
"Well, I mean, you and Pete broke up."
Mary Jane felt her stomach sink into the subway.
"I know that talking to me can't be easy," Ben continued, his voice growing progressively smaller. "But I wanted to call anyway 'cause…well, you're my friend. I wanted to see if you were okay."
A lump formed in Mary Jane's throat. She won't deny she had been dreading this call from Ben. She honestly didn't know how she would react to hearing his voice, but now that she heard it, Mary Jane couldn't help but feel offended for Ben. "Look, Ben—and I mean this in the nicest way possible—but what does mine and Peter's break up have to do with you?"
"Uh, hello!? Clone of your current ex speaking to you," he responded as if the answer was extremely obvious.
It was that obvious note in his voice that made her so offended on his behalf! "Yeah, so?" Mary Jane bit back.
"Alright, alright!" Ben exclaimed. "Excuse me for not knowing what the proper etiquette is here! I'm barely a year old, for Christ's sake! How am I supposed to know all the ins and outs of the breakup protocols!"
Mary Jane narrowed her eyes at the exaggerated drama of Ben's voice. She could just picture the shit-eating grin on his face as he spoke. But he had no idea who he was messing with here! Mary Jane Watson didn't back down from a challenge. Especially not a Drama Queen Off!
"I suppose that's natural, considering you got all your social skills from Peter-let-me-date-a-girl-I'm-not-that-into-purely-because-she's-giving-me-attention-and-because-I'm-oblivious-to-the-girl-who's-been-in-love-with-me-since-the-seventh-grade-and-who-i-also-had-feelings-for-but-was-too-stupid-to-recognize-it-at-the-time-Parker," she said, her smirk sent waves of superiority down into the city below.
"Ah, see, there's a flaw in your logic there, my dear red-haired free agent," Ben quipped without so much as a beat of silence passing between them. "I'm already smarter than Pete for recognizing those feelings and acting on them immediately."
Mary Jane rolled her eyes. She forgot she was dealing with a man that had no shame and a healthy ego. Oddly enough, Mary Jane felt comfortable with losing this particular battle as she felt a smile grace her face. Not one of the smiles she had put on for show back on the dance floor. This was the first true smile she'd had since the day she left Peter's apartment. If the price for a moment of happiness was losing a Drama Queen Off to Ben Reilly, then it was one she was willing to pay.
"I've missed you," she whispered into the phone. And she meant it. Ben being on his 'Great Wandering,' as he called it, left a hole in their lives. It was remarkable how much Mary Jane found herself so attached to a friend she'd only made less than a year ago.
"Same," Ben replied. "How have you been holding up?"
"Oh please, like you haven't already heard everything from Gwen," Mary Jane scoffed.
"I've heard one side of what has to be a multilayered story," Ben said. "I love Gwen, but she was rather sparse on the details of your side. Pete, I get. You know, with the whole two peas in a pod thing. But you? I believe Gwen described her trying to talk to you about it as 'you know when the Road Runner runs into a painting on the wall, only for Wiley Coyote to run headfirst into a wall of bricks'"
"Descriptive," Mary Jane said, dryly.
"I learned from the best," Ben remarked. "Only she tends to be very tight-lipped about herself. Which, I know, not really one to talk considering…but what I do know is how great you feel after a good ol' fashioned confession!"
Mary Jane sighed. She knew it would probably be good for her if she talked to someone about her breakup, and Ben was off on his spirit quest. "Look, I just couldn't—it was a lot, okay."
"Is it because you thought you were a burden on his life?"
"How the fu—" Mary Jane's eyes narrowed. "You and Gwen really do share everything."
"Honesty is key," Ben said. "You know he doesn't think that, right? No matter what he may have said to you, he doesn't actually think that."
Mary Jane shook her head and leaned further over the railing. "This isn't about what he thinks or said, Ben. This is about what we haven't said to each other. This has been a long time coming. There's always been a wall between us, and I put it there from the moment we met."
"Why? What do you have to hide from him?" Ben asked.
Mary Jane didn't even notice it, but instantly a wall shot up between her and Ben. Brick by brick, it was building, and if Ben were here in front of her, she wouldn't be able to see him. "Stuff no one needs to know about," she said in a hushed voice. The wall was nearly finished.
"Okay."
The wall halted. "W-what?"
"Okay," Ben repeated.
Mary Jane's eyes widened. The wall wobbled, and a few bricks came loose, almost as if Ben was poking them out one by one. "You don't want to know?"
"I'm not gonna force you to tell me something you don't want to," Ben said. "MJ, I'm your friend. I will be there for you when you call on me. And if and when you decide to, my lips will be webbed tight afterward."
The wall between Mary Jane and Ben crumbled into a pile. All she had to do now was just take the steps forward. One day, she promised herself.
"Thanks, Ben," Mary Jane said. "Really."
"Anytime," he responded. "Now, if you don't mind any more prying, how did you get invited to a Broadway party?"
"Oh please, like Gwen didn't tell you who invited me already?" Mary Jane asked, leaning up from the railing and folding her free arm under her other.
"She actually didn't get to that part. You know how she gets when she gets worked up, some details slip through the cracks," he said, chuckling. "What are you doing there anyway?"
"Avoiding Brad mostly," Mary Jane said.
"That tool, who was your co-star?"
"Yeah, and he definitely wants party favors, but he's not going to get any," she said, casting a look back into the apartment. She couldn't see him in there through the mass of bodies, but she was prepared for him to pop out at any moment. "Though, I suppose I should at least give him a dance since his invite is what allowed me to have a chance to talk to other Broadway actors."
"Nah, fuck him," Ben said. "If he expected you to give him something other than showing up in return for an invite, then he didn't know who he was talking to. Tell me more about these other actors, though?"
And just like that, Mary Jane felt a small weight lift off of her shoulders. It was a piece of a larger whole, but it felt good nonetheless. Talking to someone without having to keep up the mask of Mary Jane Free Agent Watson felt nice. It's a wonder what fresh air will do for a gal.
Felicia wrapped herself in her leather jacket as she walked into the back door of The Bar With No Name. It had been nearly three months since her last visit to the bar, but her old contact was a creature of habit. He rarely changed his tune. He'd even left her several voicemails about potential jobs in that time, though she had never called him back.
As Felicia stepped into the bar, she felt several eyes land on her. Suspicious eyes looked her up and down as if they were trying to deduce if she was an easy mark.
No such luck, fellas, she thought dryly. Felicia strode past them to the table in the back where John Ladue sat counting cash. He was surrounded by a small haze of purple smoke, and Felicia coughed. She'd forgotten how much she hated that acrid smell.
John saw her before she could find her breath. His eyes lit up with greed, and he actually licked his lips. "My, my, as I live and breathe!" he called to her. He shifted his large mass out of the booth and rose with his arms outstretched. "It's been a time, Kitty Cat!"
He surged toward her, and Felicia saw the intent to hug and cringed. She dodged the hug and slid into the chair behind him.
"Where ya been?" he asked, folding his arms.
Felicia picked up a bill from one of the piles of cash and threaded it between her fingers. " Here and there," she answered coyly. "A trip to the Louvre, a cruise on the Rivera, a night in New Orleans with a few scoundrels."
"You ran amok the Thieves Guild, didn't ya," John said, taking a seat at the booth across from her.
"Maybe," she answered with a shrug. "Got boring, though, and that purple-eyed player nearly cleaned me out."
"Ah, that's why you haven't answered any of my calls," John said, leaning back in the booth. "Sounds like ol' Gambit had his way with ya."
"Other way 'round, Johnny," she said. "Unless you mean on the poker table. That is his domain. Speaking of your calls, though–"
"We in business!?" John said, rubbing his hands together. "Great, cause I got a score I know you–"
"I have my eyes set on a different score," Felicia said, placing the bill in her fingers back on top of John's pile. "Word on the street is that Hammerhead is moving something valuable. I'm betting you have the inside scoop on your old pal's movements."
"I think your time in the Bayou messed with your head, kitten," John retorted. His tone was a warning, but his eyes betrayed him. Her father had always said that a person's eyes always held their truth. Anyone could train their faces–their body–to hide their intentions, but their eyes could never be trained. In John's eyes, the glint of gold gave him away.
"There was a lot of smoke down south," Felicia admitted. "But I did learn where to place my bets, and you always love a good score. Hammy's been moving something that some dangerous bug wants. Whatever it is, has to be dangerously valuable."
John smiled. The gold glint in his eyes shone brightly. "Now that you mention it, I do have a few looky-loos eying what Hammerhead is moving. I even got a whisper on the next shipment."
Felicia leaned back in her chair, humming satisfactorily. "What's the catch?"
"I'm thinking a sixty-forty split," John said.
"Sixty-forty, really?" Felicia said, cocking her eyebrow at him.
"The Bookie has to get his cut. Far more dangerous for me to move this after you've stolen it," John said. He grabbed a stack of his bills and handed it to her. "This can cover whatever gear you need."
Felicia took the money from John. Spider wouldn't approve, but she wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. She was putting the money into a good cause. "What a gentleman."
John bowed his head.
Felicia pocketed the money and leaned toward John. "Now, when is the next shipment?"
Peter stuffed his mask into his back pocket as he walked through the threshold of his childhood home. He could smell Aunt May's wheat cakes the second the door opened.
"Shoes off, Peter!"
Peter stopped as he shut the door behind him. He looked down at the cubbies against the wall and saw a pair of bright blue sneakers. Instantly, he sighed as he kicked off his shoes. "Gwen, stop influencing my aunt!"
Gwen popped her head out of the kitchen. "If I were capable of that, you and I would be the ones cooking here."
"Gwen! Don't stop stirring!" Aunt May said briskly. Gwen's eyes widened, and she bolted back into the kitchen. Peter chuckled and walked into the kitchen. Aunt May bustled about the kitchen and peered at the oven while simultaneously mixing what looked like cranberry sauce in a large ceramic bowl as Gwen stirred the spaghetti.
"And how is the pretty lady?" Peter asked as he walked over to Aunt May and gave her a kiss on the cheek. He also tried sticking his finger in the cranberry sauce but whipped his hand back as Aunt May swatted his hand away with alarming speed. "Spry as ever," he remarked, rubbing his hand. "I'm gonna go set the table."
"Pete, can you text my dad and ask him if he's gonna make it tonight?" Gwen called out as Peter grabbed enough plates for five and headed for the dining table.
"Yeah, everything alright?" he asked. Peter set the plates down and started with the utensils.
"Just the usual," Gwen said, walking into the Dining Room to place the bowl of spaghetti down. "Apparently, there's a new Spider-Man out on the block."
Peter looked up from the plates to find Gwen with her arms crossed, casting him a look that screamed, 'you're in trouble.'
Peter furrowed his brow. What was with the death glare? He was on top of the situation. Well, Felicia was, but they agreed on the plan! "I heard about that," Peter said cautiously. He didn't really want to give up the jig to Aunt May. "Something in Hell's Kitchen with Daredevil."
"Oh, that crazy man," Aunt May said, walking into the dining room, holding the bowl of cranberry sauce and a platter of chicken and setting them down on the table. "Running around dressed as the devil? Though, I suppose he at least fits his area. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen certainly fits better than New York's Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man."
What is this? Beat up on Peter day!? Peter thought as he felt his aunt's approval for Daredevil sting him.
"Hey, at least Spidey tries to be nice to people!" he said, intending for his words to sound stronger, however, when he heard his voice, it sounded more like a complaint. He heard Gwen snicker next to him, and he shot her a glare of his own. That only made her smile and she stepped back into the kitchen. "I mean, look at Spidey's suit! It's bright, and it's colorful, it's friendly!"
"It's a little creepy, dear," Aunt May said, sitting down at the head of the table. "That mask with those eyes? They're just a little too bug-eyed."
"Daredevil has horns!" Peter exclaimed. "He literally modeled his look off of the devil!"
Gwen's laughter echoed from the kitchen, boiling Peter's blood. He opened his mouth to call her out–
DING DONG!
"Sweetie, can you get the door?"
Peter made a face and walked down the hall. He passed the door to the kitchen and stuck his tongue out at Gwen before opening the door.
"Hey, Pete." There stood Flash Thompson. He shifted his weight from side to side, with his hands stuffed awkwardly in his pockets.
"Hey, Flash," Peter said. The two stood still for a moment, not quite sure what to make of their current situation still. They had a moment earlier—their shared misery at the loss of their girlfriends—but neither really thought through what furthering that connection meant for them. Sure, senior year had been pretty chill between them. They had pretty much outgrown their old dynamic and had been rather neutral toward each other. Especially after Ben left during Christmas.
"Is that you, Dad?" Gwen shouted, walking out of the kitchen. "Oh, Flash!"
Gwen stared at Flash and Peter, her brow furrowing. "Hey, Gwen," Flash said slowly, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. Silence fell between the three college mates as none really knew what to say. What do you say to someone you never really clicked with in high school?
"Eugene? It's been too long!" Aunt May stood up from the table and stride down the hall. She pushed past Peter and enveloped Flash in a warm embrace.
Flash stiffened for a second before sinking into the old lady's arms. "Hi, Mrs. Parker."
Aunt May pulled away. "Oh please, you're a grown man now, dear. You can call me May, or Aunt May," she said. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
"Oh, uh…well, Pete invited me," Flash answered, rubbing the back of his neck again. He glanced at Peter, who shifted his weight from side to side.
Aunt May looked back at Peter with a proud smile. "Well, the more, the merrier. Come in!"
Flash crossed the threshold of the Parker home with the help of Aunt May. With every step the pair took, Peter felt the ice start to thaw. He closed the door and started toward the Dining Table.
"You didn't tell me you invited Flash," Gwen said, eying Peter with curiosity.
Peter shrugged. "I ran into him outside of class this morning. It just kind of happened."
"When you were late to class," Gwen said.
Peter looked at Gwen. The tone of her voice, it felt almost…accusatory. What the hell is up with her? "That's pretty standard for me."
"And why weren't you home last night?" The accusatory note in her voice became more apparent.
"Hunting down leads on our mysterious Spider-Powered killer," Peter retorted hotly. And getting into bed with Felicia! He felt his neck burn. "Believe it or not, I'd like to catch this guy."
"Then why aren't you out there right now?" Gwen asked, crossing her arms and hitting him with The Look.
Peter bit his lip in frustration. He hated that look, but he had learned to defend himself from it. "The superhero community is a pretty open club, and a lot of these guys owe me favors for taking the brunt of the media slander." Okay, so maybe not the most bulletproof of defenses. "They offered their services."
Gwen narrowed her eyes. "Did Felicia also offer her services?"
Peter's eye twitched. So that's what this was about. What did it matter that he is working with Felicia? And what is Gwen's problem with it? No, you know what? That's none of her business! He opened his mouth to retort–
"Hey, you two!" Aunt May's voice broke through the blanket of tension between the two roommates. "Don't be rude; the chicken and pasta is getting cold!"
Peter bolted for the table, subtly of course, and slid into a chair next to Aunt May. Gwen slid into the chair across from him, her eyes never leaving his face as they filled their plates. Peter avoided her gaze, choosing to be more interested in his chicken.
"I didn't know you and Peter were at the same college!" Aunt May's voice brought Peter back to the land of conversation. He looked up to see her giving him a pointed look, with Flash grinning good-naturedly.
"Yeah, well, we never really came across each other too much," Peter said. "A little hard to when we don't share many classes together. It's a big campus, after all."
"I'm surprised you two didn't cross paths sooner," Aunt May remarked.
Peter tilted his head. How would they have come across each other sooner? Oh, no…Aunt May knew about their double date, thanks to MJ talking about it to her before they left. Peter really did not want to talk about this.
"Why do you say that, Aunt May?" Flash asked, his face nearly a mirror of Peter's own dress and confusion.
"Well, Peter is Spider-Man's personal photographer," Aunt May said, "I would have thought you two would've seen each other at your Spidey Squad meetings."
Peter choked on his water. "The what Squad meetings!?" he gasped out.
Flash's face lit up with excitement. "The Spidey Squad!" he repeated. "It's something I started after graduation. Spidey is a hero, but you don't have to wear tights to do good. He's just our inspiration. We work out of the old Lincoln Youth Center, helping out the kids there."
"I thought they weren't big fans of Spidey down there?" Peter asked, remembering the last time he stepped foot near that center.
Flash nodded his head. "They aren't as picky as they used to be. Plus, Hobie wasn't wrong when he said that this Center was the only thing keeping some of these kids from the streets," he said. Silence fell over the table for a moment as the Midtown Alumni thought about their former classmate. He was set to be getting out of prison soon. "Spidey has his hands full, keeping us safe from all the criminals and supervillains in the city. Figured we could help pick up the slack. It's our city, too, after all. If we want to live in it, we may as well help make it a place worth living in. I think it's a way to show our appreciation for him and to give him the good press he deserves too!"
Peter blinked. Did he inspire all this? "Flash, that's…"
"That's amazing!" Gwen finished. "What do you do down there?"
"Just the usual non-profit stuff. A lot of encouraging these kids to follow their passions. I'm coaching a little football team; I even worked it out with Coach to let us use the Midtown field before they start practice!" Flash said, his excitement steadily growing with each word. "Sometimes we do a little pickup with them. The smiles on these kids' faces, man…it's not something I'll forget."
"Oh, I'm so proud of you, Eugene!" Aunt May said, placing her hand on Flash's.
He bowed his head, and then he looked at Peter. "There's actually something I wanted to ask you about, too."
Peter cocked his head to the side.
Flash folded his hands together. "Well, some of the kids there are kinda artsy and more…well, they're smarter than me," he admitted with a chuckle. "I-I was hoping you could come down when you had some free time and talk with the kids. You know, help them out on their homework and maybe even their artsy stuff?" Flash glanced at Gwen next to him and quickly turned to face her. "You too, Gwen! Let's, uh, let's just say we can use all the brains we can get down there."
Peter and Gwen looked at each other, then back to Flash. They knew they were both asking themselves the same question: what happened to Flash Thompson? Time away from high school really changed him, and Peter honestly wanted to see it in action.
"Yeah, absolutely, man!" Peter exclaimed.
"Of course, I'll be there!" Gwen said. "This actually would be a great way for me to get through to the kid at Brooklyn Visions I'm tutoring."
"Oh, I know that school," Aunt May said. "I remember George talking to Ben about it back before you all went to high school. I remember when you put your foot down on that notion." Aunt May shot Gwen a mischievous smile that Gwen returned.
"I have a feeling that Miles tried to do that too, but I don't know what happened," Gwen responded.
"What's the young man like?"
Gwen looked between Peter and Flash, and Peter was not a fan of the smirk on her face. It reminded him too much of when Ben had an idea. My brother is a terrible influence.
"He's a big Spider-Man fan," she said. "And I think he may be able to help us with your little artsy problem, Flash. No offense, Pete, but you're not exactly the most hip."
Peter furrowed his brow and scoffed. "I'm fly," he said, crossing his arms.
Silence fell across the table, and crickets sounded as Aunt May, Gwen, and Flash all stared at Peter. He held his chin up high, confident in his use of the slang, but as the crickets sounded louder throughout the house, Peter felt the cracks in his face start to form. Then, it all shattered as the smile broke through.
The tables erupted into laughter, and Peter looked at Flash. For once, he was laughing alongside his old high school bully. A bully that he inspired to be better, to help people. As he watched Aunt May, Gwen, and Flash continue laughing, Peter found himself glad that he listened to Felicia. This was a good night.