[for Mary Jane]

[daretodo]

I'm good at remembering birthdays. Not my own, maybe -- ah, who'm I trying to kid? Never my own -- but when it comes to the people I love, it's about the one normal thing I've proven myself somewhat reliable for, when I'm not detained by forces outside my control. It's been a busy week for those around me -- the Council's tied up in that new tunnel that Pepper discovered, Tony and Cap nearly died at the hand of a crazy ex-sidekick, the Island's been thrown into the confusion of widespread amnesia -- but it's no excuse to overlook Mary Jane's birthday, even if it is the deciding factor against throwing her a surprise party.

(One of them, at least. The other is that maybe I'm just itching for a little alone time. As far as I'm concerned, I've got three years' worth to make up for, and the last month's been kinda hectic.)

But just because I'm skimping out on the number of guests doesn't make me a cheapskate in other areas. Oh, no -- I've spent the past month squirreling away all her favorite movies from the shelf, which I left for her to find on the coffee table at home, the whole stack of 'em wrapped in a big red bow. In place of a card, I left her a detailed map of where to find me and when -- a copse of trees far away from prying eyes near one of the more quiet stretches of beach at sunset.

I'm waiting for her here right now, dressed sharply in a tailored blue suit, clean-shaven and freshly combed. There's a picnic supper sitting in the expansive web I spun high in the trees over my head, and I hold in my hands another bouquet, courtesy of the local florist. Butterflies flap around in my stomach as I wait for her to make her appearance, and even though there's no one here yet to see me, it's hard to wipe the smile from my face every time my thoughts turn her way. When I finally hear footsteps approaching, I straighten, instinctively smoothing a hand back over my head in a gesture that musses more than fixes.

"Good evening, madame-wow-zell," I say in a phony French accent, bowing deeply when I lay eyes on her. "I hear eet eez your birthday."

Comments

[thejackpot]

Truth be told, I wasn't expecting to celebrate my birthday this year. It's not that I expected Peter to forget— that's the funny thing about Peter, how he can't keep track of his own past or ongoing dates and milestones, but he remembers mine, he remembers May's, he remembers those of the people closest to him— but between the fact that I still feel displaced in time and the way the island's found itself in a great big mess between the amnesiacs and those still fighting off visions of their fears, it just... wasn't high on my list of priorities. Maybe I'd allow myself a little cake, ice cream, but it just feels like I can do a year without that big day. Probably.

Of course, that doesn't mean that I'm about to complain when I arrive home to find a pile of my favorite films laid out on the coffee table, nor does it stop me from dressing up in a green and orange halter top with a pleated fiery-orange skirt that barely stops above my knees. (Some dark red lace underneath it all, too.) Jungle colors, I guess, to celebrate the life we've got going here, which isn't always as bad as we sometimes tell ourselves. By the time I've finished pinning up my hair for the walk, I guess I've already forgiven myself for wanting to take an hour or two out of the day to celebrate.

I mean, I can't exactly help but smile when I happen across Pete at last, beaming from cheek to cheek at the web nestled in the upper branches of the trees, at his phony accent, everything.

"You might've heard right," I reply, affecting my own Southern belle accent as my hands clasp behind my back, shoulders rising coyly as I duck away from the sight of him, playing more than anything else. "Is this all for me? You really shouldn't have."

[daretodo]

"Ah, non, non, non, eet woz my pleh-zure!" I say, but God help me if I can keep a straight face. The corners of my mouth pull up in a wide, somewhat smug, grin, and I hold out the flowers for her to take even as I slip my free hand to her waist, sliding it to rest at the small of her back. She looks great, of course -- she always looks great -- wearing the kind of dress that'd stop traffic, if we had it. "For ze pretty lay-dee."

[thejackpot]

I let myself lean into Peter's hold, easily, my lips pulling into a pleased smile as I cradle the bouquet of flowers to my chest and wrap my free arm around the back of his waist. "The question now's if you're gonna be able to keep this up for the rest of the night," I grin, letting my brow wag as I continue with my accent— light though it is. "Because if this is meant to be a theme..."

I raise myself slightly onto my toes, pressing a kiss to Peter's lips, letting it remain chaste before slipping my tongue between his lips for a brief taste.

[daretodo]

I hum against her lips, letting my eyes slip shut as I deepen the kiss. There's no one around -- I don't have my spider-sense, but I've got the tech system I rigged up to replace it tucked away in the picnic basket above our heads, and I did a scan of the area before I came back down to wait for my lady love.

I didn't want to get interrupted.

A laugh bubbles out of my throat when I pull back, still smiling. "I think we should leave the accents to the experts," I tell her, sounding nothing less than my good ol' kid-from-Queens self.

[thejackpot]

"Probably," I agree, leaning forward to press my lips briefly against his throat where the laughter thrums. Throwing both of my arms over Peter's shoulders, I let out a little sigh. Maybe I'm still a little more caught on the events of the island than I'd like to be. It's pretty impossible to forget everything that's going on around us, even if I'm glad to have a bit of a refuge from it all.

Now I just have to hope that Peter's memories don't start leaking out during the night.

"I've really needed this," I tell him, pressing another peck to his lips. "Although I have to admit, I'm starting to wonder if we should be making back-up plans. In case the island decides to belatedly whammy us."

[daretodo]

"I already wrote a handful of letters, stashed them around the house-- for both of us," I admit, brows raised a little. The ones for myself are necessarily more detailed, but given the amount of damage an amnesiac me could do with the supplies in my workshop, I figured it was better to be safe than sorry. If there's one aspect of myself that's really had a chance to flourish in this environment, it's my knack for thinking ahead. Sure, I'm not exactly some master strategist or tactician, but having been around the block a few times, I have a decent idea of what's around the corner.

"Name, basic history, maps, list of folks we can trust. I was thinking of maybe getting a couple of pocket-sized notebooks that we could carry around, just in case it hits us when we're not at home. But that--" I cut myself short, lifting one arm to secure a webline to a steady branch, intent on getting us up to our dinner sooner rather than later. "--is not important."

[thejackpot]

"My husband, ever prepared to save the world," I marvel, hands pressed against his chest as I lean in one more time to press a quick peck to his lips, before shifting to wrap my arms around his waist as securely as I can. Of course, I can't help wondering how much any of that would really help, depending on just how far back we might relegate. Seeing certain people kick back entirely to their childhoods has been... quite the experience.

But, not what my mind's supposed to be focusing on, however fascinating and disturbing it may all be at once. So I clear my throat, nestling close again and staring up, first at Peter, then at the line, at the stretch of the web that awaits the both of us. "Think I'm ready," I tell him with a grin. Not that I'm ever against him sweeping me off my feet.

[daretodo]

"Hold on tight."

Habit forces out the warning, but it's not like she really needs it. If anyone's used to being carried like this, it's MJ, and the thought alone spurs on a wider smile as I work up the momentum needed to get us up from the ground and onto the web. It's a longer process than it would've been with my powers intact, granted -- a straight jump ain't gonna cut it -- but I've got enough practice at getting around my newish limitations that I manage the journey just fine, even if we do have to take a bit of scenic route.

...And even if I don't quite stick the landing. I drop us both onto the webbing unceremoniously, shouldering the fall so she doesn't have to, though it doesn't stop us from getting tangled. I get a flower in the eye and I cough out a breathless laugh as I stare up at her.

"That... could've gone better."

[thejackpot]

When you have a husband who frequently performs acts of daring like it's nothing at all, you come to appreciate the parts that don't fit together perfectly. Which isn't to say that I'm always peering Peter's way to see if he fails somehow— more that the moments like these, when he's relaxed enough to know that he can afford a bit of miscalculation, they become doubly precious. They come to show exactly how comfortable we're able to be with one another, our laughter mixing as much as our limbs do when we finally land on the web. I quickly roll myself on top of Peter, less because the clumsy landing throws us that way, and more because it's just fun to rest my chin on his chest.

"Probably," I agree with a soft huff of a laugh, shifting the bouquet slightly and inadvertently bumping a blossom against the tip of his nose. "Unless you were really hoping to properly stop and smell the roses. Which... you know, I can't say I'd argue heavily against the idea."

[daretodo]

I've missed this, these kind of quiet moments where everything just sort of falls into place, messy but somehow perfectly us in a way I'd have a hard time articulating to anyone else. I've missed her, an ache that's still not entirely satisfied despite the months we've been back together. There's just so much lost time to account for.

"I'd rather classify the roses," I say, wrinkling my nose a little when the petals brush up against me. "Though the flora's pretty standard for what you'd expect in this environment, really, save for the odd non-indigenous species. The fauna's more exotic. Case in point: Jurassic Park!"

[thejackpot]

"That just sounds so strict and harsh. Classify the roses. Like the world doesn't see enough judgment already," I joke, scrunching my expression up as I tug the flowers away from Peter's nose and nudge at the side with my own, coaxing another kiss out of him. It's the lazy things. The things we can do when we've got all the time in the world. (We never do, but sometimes it's easier to pretend.)

"Also, frankly, I think I'd prefer sticking with the roses than chasing after dinosaurs. Jurassic Park was supposed to be a lesson to us all as far as that goes, right? Not tempting fate for that one."

[daretodo]

"But it's fun," I say through a quick, sudden smile. It's easy enough to say here, of course, far from any danger. Even having come up against more than one dinosaur in my time -- I know, I know, my life is pretty strange -- it's hard to conjure up the terror so removed from the memory. I mean, it's dinosaurs. Any science geek worth his weight can't help but get excited about them.

That said, if Mr. Rex dropped in our romantic evening, I'd probably have a few choice words to say that didn't include reciting genus and species names.

"Hungry?"

[thejackpot]

"It's also terrifying," I reply, shooting a gaze briefly to the side in curious contemplation. "I think." It's pretty clear that if I ever end up dropped off in the dinosaur territory, I'd freak. I might keep calm enough on the outside to get through unscathed, but I'd be scared all the while. I can definitely see the draw of it, though— getting to see face-to-face all the things that we've only imagined otherwise. Proving or disproving theories.

Cool stuff, even if I wouldn't touch it.

Settling back next to Peter, I allow myself a teasing smirk as I lean forward to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Maybe," I reply softly, more as a tease than anything else.

[daretodo]

"Orrr we could keep going in this direction," I say, half under my breath, eyebrows lifting slightly. I get an arm around her waist, the other lifting to smooth away a few stray hairs. I smile up at her, quiet, then lift my head just enough to catch her mouth in another kiss.

"I mean, your birthday, your call, right?"

[thejackpot]

"Sound a bit more excited, why don't you?" I ask, still pressing against the softness of his lips for a second longer and taking minute breaths as I smooth the span of my palm over his side. Not long after, I pull away, not fighting the arm around my waist but still earning myself enough distance to look up in the eyes. I feel lucky. I feel lucky every day that I'm with him, although I know that Peter's pretty lucky too in certain ways.

After all, you have to admit— we make a good pair.

"I think," I say, glancing at Peter in consideration, then over at the food. "Well, what's for dinner? Because if it can wait..."

[daretodo]

"Mmn, no, definitely can't wait," I say, unable to resist. It's a bad line. It's a bad line, but it spills out of me before I have the chance to stop it, just like every other awful joke I'm known for making, and I flash her an unapologetically cheeky grin before moving to flip us over, settling my weight on top of hers instead, careful to brace myself enough on the webbing to not risk squishing her.

I mean, jeez, I can make her see actual stars right now, that seems worth taking advantage of.

[thejackpot]

After a short and perhaps undignified squeal of excitement— because turning over relatively quickly is no small thing when you're up at such a height, no matter how much you logically know that you'll be safe— I let myself fall to silence not long after, sighing instead and pleased as I glance up to meet Peter's gaze. This is probably the right call, though. Hungry though I may have been on the walk here, it's this time with Peter, no other interruptions in sight, that I appreciate having most.

"Well," I remark, laughing belatedly at his joke. "I guess it's forgivable if I start playing with my food, then."

[daretodo]

"Oh, it's more than forgivable," I tell her, like I'm some kind of authority on the subject. (I guess I kinda am.) My grin is quick, but the kiss I plant on her neck comes quicker.

"I'd say it's downright advisable."

[thejackpot]

"You are the expert," I breathe, eyes sliding to a close at the feel of his lips against my skin, my fingers brushing up the line of his back and leg hiking up until it threatens to wrap around his waist.

The fact that we're doing this on a web doesn't escape me, and I grin.

"Whose web is this now, huh?"

[daretodo]

Oh, that's- That's nice. This definitely trumps my idea of dinner under the stars. I sneak a hand along her waist, sliding it under her back both to provide some sturdier support and to keep her close, the other finding her thigh like a moth to the flame. Or maybe make that a fly to the web.

"How many Spider-Men do you know?"

[thejackpot]

"I only meant that I'm pretty sure I've taken control of the web. Captured the good spider himself..." I point out, letting my voice trail off into a small sigh, wrapping my legs fully around his waist to emphasize my point.

"Or would you disagree?"

[daretodo]

"Well," I say, bowing my head to brush a kiss to her neck. "You are my favorite Spider-Lady, so I'm surprisingly okay with that." Smiling as I pull back, I rest my forehead against hers, rolling my hips forward in a slow, steady press.

"You can capture me any day."

[thejackpot]

My breath grows momentarily faint. Wavers, in the wake of his touch, his words, in the little intimacies that we're able to share now with the stars, without anyone else knowing or seeing. I tilt my head just so, capturing his lips with my own and letting that linger too, his lip pulled between my teeth and only the barest of tugs— because I know it takes less than that for him to follow me.

Or me him.

"Fortunately, it looks like we've got that well under our belts already," I breathe, matching his weight as I let one hand reach up to meet his, letting the pad of my thumb sweep up, running across his fingers before brushing along the line of my wedding ring.

[daretodo]

"Marry me?"

It slips out on an exhale, but the question doesn't give me pause. She's magnetic, pulling me in with little more than a kiss, a look. We're as close to the stars as we can get around here without shooting off into space, but by God, if she isn't the best view I've seen.

"Again. Fifty more times. M'not picky, really."

[thejackpot]

It stops my heart. More than the first couple of times he asked, I have to admit, all those years ago, long before I came to terms with the fact that I had the greatest partner a girl could ever find right in front of me. And I let myself smile at the pounding in my chest, dipping down to press a slight kiss to his cheek.

"You know, I was thinking about asking if you wanted for us to renew our vows..." I grin, pulling back and resting my hands lightly on his chest.

[daretodo]

I grin so hard my face'll be sore for days. Given my history of marriage proposals -- all of them about as thought out as this one, if I'm honest -- I can't imagine what I would've done if she'd asked instead, my mind running through about half a dozen scenarios before I let out a quiet, almost delighted laugh.

"Were you gonna do the whole shebang? Get down on one knee?"

[thejackpot]

"And it wouldn't even have begun to even the score," I laugh, rolling my eyes for a second and looping my arms around Peter's neck, my heart straining against my chest in the process. "But yes, down on one knee. Maybe bring with me a bag of chocolate. Maybe pop the question on your birthday."

With a huff, I turn to lay down on my side. "Which, for future reference, might not be a good idea unless you're absolutely certain that the other person is going to say yes." I grin. "Limiting your options to only me, I'm afraid."

[daretodo]

"Chocolate's probably better than crackerjacks," I say, thoughtful, and half to myself -- though we're so close it doesn't really matter. Reaching over, I push a few strands of her hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger.

"As far as limitations go, though? I'm unsurprisingly okay with that."

I mean, Tony's not the marrying type, anyway.

Kidding. I'm kidding.