[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

[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.