[for Selina]

I’m still riding the adrenaline rush from a training session with Cap as I make my way back home. My t-shirt’s bunched into a ball in my hand, and I tip my face up to meet the sun through the trees. I wouldn’t say no to some rain to cool off, but the sky above me is clear.

Figures. When you want it to rain, there’s not a drop to be found.

I stop on the spot, taking in a deep breath — smelling the flowers, so to speak. When I look back ahead and see who’s coming down the boardwalk, my stomach flips, then drops out. There’s no room for a hasty exit, so I stand my ground, holding my empty hand palm out in a mocking gesture of surrender.

“I swear I’m not following you,” I tell one Selina Kyle. “It’s a free boardwalk.”

[for Steve]

I’m faster these days. Not as fast as I used to be, of course, that’d be impossible. But I’ve been at these training sessions long enough, now, that I can actually keep up with Captain America. When we get down to the sparring, it’s more of a dance.

A really fast, really dangerous dance.

I live for these sessions. It’s an excuse to step outside of my head and live in my body for a while. I don’t have to think or pretend I’m a person. I just have to make sure I get the hell out of the way when Steve’s battering ram of an arm comes rushing towards my face. I don’t even try to make conversation. Spider-Man’s running commentary has no place here. It’s not about trying to reconnect to some past superhero glory. It’s about making sure Peter Parker can keep his cool in polite society. Sometimes I wonder if he isn’t as much a mask as my more colorful alter-ego.

I probably need serious therapy.

Today, though, today’s different. I’m pushing myself harder than normal, taking risks I don’t usually take. I’m not fighting for the release, I’m fighting for the distraction. I almost miss Cap’s next jab, and I block it long enough to step back, throwing my hands up into a T shape. I’m breathing hard, sweat dripping into my eyes.

“Give me a second.”