So, this chapter backtracks a little. Like, not all the way or anything, just back an unmentioned scene before the final part of Gwen's.

Disclaimer: don't own anything you recognize.

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Peter isn't sure how Mr. Stacy ends up in his kitchen the first Tuesday after school begins again. Aunt May's at work and the two of them are awkwardly alone, but because of the subject matter, he can't really complain.

"Gwen talked to me yesterday," he says, looking uncomfortable and he seems to take up more the room than this body really should. The issue of having a demanding personality, Peter supposes. "She...put up a pretty good argument."

Of course she would, captain of the debate team and all, definitely got a lot of practice with it. "So, you don't think it's a bad idea anymore?" he asks, sounding more hopeful than he wants to because he understands that it makes sense, that Mr. Stacy made the right call.

"She pointed out it's dangerous enough being my daughter." He doesn't seem particularly happy about it, and god, is Peter tired. This is the best news he's had in a long time, but he spent the entirety of the past two nights sleepless and active, so this isn't all that unexpected. Not that he minds - he's tired, but it's the good kind of tired. "There're guideline, though."

Guidelines are good with him. Being with someone shouldn't be such a big deal, he knows this, but he also acknowledges that he's head over heels for this girl and the past six weeks proved that there's not much he can do about that. "What are they?" he answers.

"First," Mr. Stacy says, "you never go near her at night unless something like the other day happens or she ends up in a situation. Second, don't make anything too obvious between you two. Third, try avoiding talking when you're out, your voice is pretty distinct. Fourth, if you come by during the day, don't swing in and please use the door. Fourth, just do me a favor and look out for her. She's right, my family's high risk enough. Is that clear?"

Simple, straight forward, but not really at all. There's a lot unsaid - that in actuality she might be safer as long as their careful, that he's more reckless than he realized, that Mr. Stacy is strangely worried about him getting hurt too. As someone who was always an observer, he's pretty good at picking up on things. Sure, the last bit he only notices because Gwen brought it up, but he gets everything else because he agrees with it. The rules are short but absolute, and even the exception seems like an order. Why exactly the man bothers to be worried is lost on him, but he guesses it has to do with the whole not wanting his to see his baby girl get hurt thing.

He smiles and sticks out his hand. "Deal, Mr. Stacy," he says and they shake. "And I'll try to keep an eye on the rest of your family too. Two's better than one, right?"

"Right," he says. "I have to head back to the station now, but you should try coming for dinner tomorrow if you're free."

It sounds like a peace offering. "Yeah, I'm free," he says because he almost always is. It's not exactly like he has friends, though lately it seems like Flash of all people is trying. "Eight like last time?"

"Yeah. Be a little early. And remember, Peter, use the normal people door."

He can't help it - he smiles. Despite their rocky start and the fact that Mr. Stacy was originally keeping him and Gwen apart, he's grown to like the guy. They exchange information when no one's around, separating the work so even the pettiest if crimes are taken care of. Peter's helped gather intel for a few big cases, too, calling it in as an anonymous tip even if it's totally illegal (then again, everything he does is), and discovered that he's pretty much a natural at the whole sneaking around thing. Since they started collaborating, the crime rate in the city's significantly dropped. It's something Peter feels proud of, really.

He walks the man to the door because he's trained to be polite by this point and the exchange an incredibly uncomfortable goodbye that ultimately ends with Peter half-skipping back up the stairs because, really, certain moments called for that level of stupidity.

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Gwen's waiting for him by his locker when he finally makes it to school the next day, clutching her books to her chest and glancing around nervously. He meant to get to her first but naturally some guy decided that seven in the morning was the perfect time to try and mug a middle aged lady trying to make it to the subway station, delaying his chance to meet up with his girlfriend (or whatever she is - he's not really sure at this point in time) by a whole ten minutes. She spots him before he can get to her, fighting his way through crowds of meandering freshman and other students caught up in said crowd, and she looked noticeably relieved.

"So," she says as he reaches her, "do you like homemade macaroni and cheese?"

He smiles, suddenly feeling more relaxed than he has in weeks because the sight of her happy tells him that, yeah, this is really going to happen. That something's going right. "Yeah," he answers, and gets his books from his locker. "Yeah. My mom used to make it when I was a kid. She always said Kraft was too unhealthy."

"Great." The warning bell rings and since the class is right down the hall, this makes it the first day in a while he won't be late. Hopefully this means he won't be late tonight, either. "So tonight at seven-thirty?"

"Your dad said to come a little early," he says, "so yeah, I guess."

The enter to class room right as the bell rings, and his English teacher's look of shock at him actually being on time just tops off a perfect morning.

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The thing about the Parkers is that they've never really had money, something that's never bothered him before despite going to a school in Midtown Manhattan. But right now, sitting at Gwen's dining room table in a grey hoodie he bought two years ago from Old Navy and jeans already a little worn at the knees, reality comes crashing down hard. He owns no nice clothes, lives in a house where he fixes everything with tools his uncle's had for longer than he can remember, and pays his cell phone data plan himself - a drastic difference from just about everything in this apartment. Mrs. Stacy and Aunt May are probably about the same age, but Gwen's mom looks about ten years younger, and five minutes ago he standing on a Persian rug that probably costs more than every electronic he owns combined.

Objectively, he knows this isn't something he should care about since it seems like none of them care. Subjectively, he does anyway. It doesn't help that he's finally connected the dots and sees that the plainness of the macaroni and cheese is for his benefit. That is, so he's actually eating something he recognizes.

"Are you too cold, Peter?" Mrs. Stacy asks him, obviously not caring about the disaster of last time's dinner because the look she has genuinely resembles something like affection. Howard and Simon, her brothers, are staring at him in way that blatantly reads, "You're back?" She continues, "Do you want me to turn up the heat?"

"No, I'm fine," he answers, hoping his natural awkwardness isn't as obvious as he feels it is. "Wearing the sweater's just - habit, I guess."

In actuality he's a little too warm if anything, but there's a pretty bad gash from from a knife of his arm that he stupidly let hit him only an hour before (that was the problem with winter; it got dark way too early and his nights lasted too long), and he doesn't want anyone at the table to see it. Coming up with a bullshit excuse sounds like too much work and he wants tonight to go well for not just his sake, but Gwen's too, and he doesn't want Mr. Stacy to take back his decision. Getting injured seems like a sure way to have the happen.

"Yeah," Gwen says, which means she must realize it's for an entirely difference reason, "it doesn't help that our school's heat is broken."

He adds, "Mr. Lutz officially nicknamed his classroom Siberia today."

"So a school of science can't fix its own technology problems?" Howard says, and Peter glances at Gwen before shrugging. Unfortunately, the heating being broken thing is true, and he's pretty sure that some of his classrooms are colder inside than outside the building is. What makes it worse is the vents are blowing out cold air rather than no air at all.

Somehow, this turns into a conversation that lasts longer than it should and translates to the fact that no one has any idea what else to talk about. Eventually it changes to Mr. Stacy's day at work, which is a thousand times more interesting, and he stays quiet unless spoken to. It should be uncomfortable but isn't.

Gwen brushing elbows with him every once in a while definitely helps.

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So this is short. Like annoyingly so, I know, but I've had one of those endless headaches that just refuses to go away. I hope this is good enough.