Nine! 💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚
9. First sleepover
When Ned declares they’re having a sleepover, she wrinkles her nose because they’re teenagers not little kids. Technically, by law, they’re considered to be ‘adults’, though the older she gets, the less she feels like that’s a fair assessment of their capabilities.
But Peter has been gone for months, and sometimes when he thinks they aren’t paying attention, he stares at nothing at all, something they cannot see, with this haunted look in his eye that he pretends to know nothing about when she brings it up.
Plus there’s something about getting to sleep in the same room as him when he’s been goodness-knows-where for so long that sends a thrill up her spine. Sue her for being excited to get to spend time with her boyfriend under the cover of night. All they got was a few rushed kisses and his sweaty palm pressed against hers. They deserve a gentle new beginning.
May is so happy to have him back - is so used to the presence of her nephew’s best friend and girlfriend - that she makes the trip to the corner store in record time, returning with two paper bags full of processed carbs and too much sugar. The four of them camp out in the living room, a terrible stream of movies she can’t remember the names of flashing across their faces in technicolour. They spend too much of the evening talking about things lacking in importance, the topic of how they’ve each spent the time apart tiptoed around like a great work of art; complex and devastating and leaving them speechless.
She can’t stop touching him, either with a hand on his knee or her fingers tangled with his or her thigh pressed against his. There’s still a part of a her brain that is waiting to wake up from this beautiful nightmare - to take her back to Europe before Mysterio tore apart their world, or maybe before the Snap that taught them the importance of loving the people around you, because you never know how long you’ll long with them until it’s too late. Peter doesn’t seem to mind - in fact, he’s touching everyone in some way or another, a visceral representation of how much he had to give up.
May kisses them each on the tops of their heads before heading to bed. She leaves Peter for last, and when she finally finds it in herself to walk away, the blue light of the TV betrays the wetness that slips silently down her cheeks.
Ned falls asleep at 4am with his head in her lap, his soft snores warming the skin of her thighs. This is not a first time for them; they have spent countless nights since the reveal together, finding comfort in each other when everyone else tries to cast doubt. Michelle strokes her fingernails over his scalp and there’s a little huff of air that hits her cheek, and when she turns she sees Peter smiling with tears in his eyes. “I’m glad you weren’t alone,” is all he says, and there’s a thin rope of her restraint that snaps at the crack in the voice. She leans in and kisses him; not in any of the million ways she dreamed of, but in a way that is honest and sure and tastes like second chances.
When they finally drift to sleep, it is with his head on her shoulder and their hands grasped tight, the rising sun peaking through the window to reassure them that time continues to tick by; that they will heal and grow and learn. Hopefully, they will do it together. Having someone at their side sounds awfully nice right about now.
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