Hey guys. I am sorry to have been kept you guys waiting, but I have finally regained my inspiration and motivation for this fic! I personally think it's coming along pretty well, even if it is coming along slowly. Thank you guys so much for all the reviews! I've noticed a few guests have written reviews and if you guys end up coming back to this story, I have a few things in store regarding Peter and MJ :P

Alright, well enough of my ramblings. Thanks to everyone that is still sticking around and favouriting, following and reviewing. Your patience is amazing and I really appreciate it.

*** NOTE: I haven't seen Avengers Endgame yet (I know, I'm really late to the party XD) So if you guys do decide to review, can we try to keep spoilers nonexistent? I'd really appreciate it!***

Chapter 6

The following Thursday was stressful for Peter. Not only did he have a physics test, but May also had made him an appointment to see his old therapist: Dr. Fitzpatrick. Peter bitterly bit into his apple as the thought crossed his mind once again. He was having a really hard time distracting himself from it. It was lunch time and his friends were gathered around, cramming for the exam next period, and here Peter was, stuck in an endless loop of impending doom as he imagined every possible scenario of walking into that office later that evening. He had hated those therapy sessions from the very beginning with a burning passion. He hated how he always felt uncomfortable and oddly exposed when he sat across from the older man. Being someone who hid a lot of things from people, he didn't quite enjoy Dr. Fitzpatrick's eyes boring into him, trying to extract his deepest thoughts and emotions through simple, but heavily loaded questions. Peter always felt paranoid that he would say too much, or that his therapist knew more than he let on. It always put the fifteen-year-old at unease.

Peter hopelessly looked around for a distraction, his eyes landing on the teenager sitting across from him hunched over her physics notes. MJ had barely touched her lunch since they had sat down. Her eyes were constantly glued to the pages in front of her, her lips moving as she read the words in a hushed voice. Her hair was pulled back into her usual ponytail, but a few curls hung to frame her face. Peter felt a small smile creep onto his face before he took another bite of his apple and he shifted his gaze before she could catch him staring.

Ned, however, was watching him carefully. Once Peter and him made eye contact, Ned gave him a weird look but didn't mention anything about it. "You know, MJ, if you aren't going to eat your mozzarella sticks, I can take them off your hands."

MJ jumped slightly when Ned addressed her before absentmindedly pushing her tray towards the two of them. Ned happily helped himself to a mozzarella stick before nudging Peter and nodding to the concentrated girl in front of them, trying to get him to say something.

"Hey MJ… Why are you so… you know, worked up over this test?" Peter asked somewhat awkwardly, taking a mozzarella stick for himself as well.

"I just want to make sure I know everything," She mumbled, not even looking up at them while she spoke.

"Yeah, but it's not like you to—"

That struck a nerve and MJ looked up, her eyes narrowed. "I've been hanging out with you guys for a month. You guys don't know me." She snapped, cutting Peter off.

Peter let his mouth drop, bringing his hand up to his heart as if she had shot him. "Ouch..." He winced, trying to be funny.

MJ just let out a soft sigh before letting her shoulders slump. "I'm sorry… It's just… this week has been stupid."

"Yeah… I feel that," Peter mumbled sympathetically. Ever since Sunday, his aunt had been hovering worse than ever. She was constantly checking in on him and overfeeding him as if he were a pet fish she almost killed on accident. While it was appreciated, and Peter knew she was doing it out of love, as a fifteen-year-old boy he really needed some time away from it all. It honestly made him want to crawl back into the Spider-suit and swing away from everything… But… not yet.

"At least you're good at physics," MJ grumbled.

"You're head of the decathlon team. What are you talking about?" Ned interjected, staring at her like she had ten heads.

"Yeah. And you're normally so calm and collected about school," Peter added.

MJ huffed in annoyance. "Guys... Love what you're trying to do but stop." And with that, she stood, grabbed her stuff and stormed off without another word.

"MJ—" Peter started to stand, but Ned stopped him.

"Dude. Let her go," Ned said, although he was also frowning at her sudden exit. "She clearly doesn't want to talk to us right now."

Peter slunk back down on the bench, sighing. "I just want to make sure she's okay."

"She's Michelle Jones. If she's not okay, she'll be okay in a bit." Ned shrugged. Peter's frown deepened. He didn't like that logic.

"So… when did you start liking MJ?" Ned asked out of nowhere.

"What?!" Peter's head whipped over so he could gawk at Ned.

"Come on man. You're all googley eyed over her," Ned said with a soft chuckle.

"What?! No, I'm not!" Peter exclaimed, feeling his ears get hot.

Ned only laughed in response.

"Dude! Seriously, I don't like MJ like that." Peter started, but Ned gave him a knowing look.

"Okay… Whatever you say, Pete." Ned smirked, finishing eating.

"I don't like her," Peter whined again, but Ned just laughed in response again.

Soon enough, lunch was over. The bell rang, and students began to head back to their classes. Peter sighed, dumping his tray before swiping a free apple from the lunch counter and heading toward the room where his physics test was being conducted. As he walked into the classroom, he seen MJ in the back. Her nose was still buried in her notes, trying to get in some last-minute cramming. Peter took a deep breath before starting back. It felt weird to walk to the back of the class, as he always took a seat in the middle of the room. MJ looked up at sensing Peter walking toward her, and they made eye contact. Peter cleared his throat, laying the apple on the corner of her desk. She glanced down at it, before looking up at him with a raised brow.

"You didn't eat any lunch," Peter said sheepishly, giving a weak shrug. "I just thought… maybe you'd want something."

She didn't say anything, which made Peter fidget nervously. "Well, I better get back to my seat… before the test starts... uh, yeah. Okay. Good luck!"

He walked back up to his desk, feeling incredibly awkward. He slid into his seat, keeping his eyes to the front. He knew if he looked back at MJ, it would make things even more awkward. And if he looked back at Ned, Ned would be smiling like an idiot, taking his act of kindness as more evidence that he liked her more than friends. Peter took out his pencils and calculator, situating them on his desk as his thoughts wandered. Yeah, he liked MJ. But that didn't mean he liked liked her. Guys and girls could be friends. He didn't quite understand why Ned would insinuate he liked her more than friends. Friends laugh at each other's jokes and help each other with homework and studying. And friends hang out and text all the time. And friends even notice when their other friend is attractive, but that didn't mean he was attracted to MJ. Ned needed to get his head out of his ass.

Peter huffed a little, taking the exam handed to him and handing the rest of the pile back down the row. His eyes quickly glanced over to MJ, and his lips twitched upwards into a small smile as he seen her taking a bite out of the apple that he procured for her. He turned back around in his seat, letting his mind clear and beginning to focus on the paper in front of him.

Peter finished the exam relatively early. Physics always had been a breeze for him, even though he liked chemistry more. The rest of the afternoon was a blur, and suddenly the bell was ringing, dismissing him for the day. Although the physics test was over, Peter couldn't help but feel on edge. He did not want to go see Dr. Fitzpatrick. It wasn't that Dr. Fitzpatrick wasn't a good counsellor; the man was astounding at his job. The problem, however, was that the man was astounding at his job. Peter would go into the room with a feeling of dread to sit down in a comfy chair with a psychotherapist that would make Peter feel like his problems were the only problems that mattered in the world. And Dr. Fitzpatrick always knew that Peter was holding back, and Peter absolutely hated that about him. He hated that Dr. Fitzpatrick could read people so easily. Dr. Fitzpatrick always let him lead the sessions, but it made Peter uneasy because he could tell that Dr. Fitzpatrick knew Peter wasn't always telling the truth. It made him feel like he only had this illusion of control.

As Peter let his thoughts roam about the uncomfortable experience that was attending therapy sessions his aunt couldn't afford, his stomach twisted into even more knots. He knew his anxiety had increased tenfold since the Vulture incident and he was almost sure Dr. Fitzpatrick would be able to smell it off him like a hound before he even got into the room. Peter shifted from foot to foot and watched with bated breath as the city bus pulled up and stopped right in front of him. He slowly exhaled in time with the doors opening and hopped on, paying the fare and seating himself in the first empty seat he could find. He sighed as he sat down, glancing out the window as the bus slowly started to move forward on its journey. His eyes flickered to the school doors being opened, a familiar face appearing through them: MJ. Her hair was still tied back into that messy ponytail, curls framing her face perfectly. Peter could almost swear that she was crying, but he couldn't quite be sure as she was looking towards the ground. Peter's body turned as he tried to keep watching MJ while the bus took off. His frown deepened and he hauled out his phone, his fingers hovering over MJ's contact. He leaned back in his seat, opening the texting application for her. What… would he even say?

Hey. I seen you crying, and I wanted to make sure you were okay? No. No, he couldn't type that. That would make him seem like a huge creep. God, why was he overthinking this so much? He quickly typed a new message before hitting send.

"Hey. Hope physics didn't kick your ass too hard. :P" – Peter

Peter reread the message. Was that too insensitive to say? If she was crying, could it have been because of the physics exam? God, he made a mistake. She would never want to talk to him again. God, can he delete text messages? Peter peeked back down at his phone, his hopes falling as he read the word "delivered" under the message. It's too late now. He closed his eyes, resting his head against the window. He tried to listen to the sounds of the city in a weak attempt to distract himself. He could hear all the sounds of the city as the bus drove through the streets. The traffic. The quiet murmurs of people on the streets. Dogs barking. He tried to think of anything else instead of his stupid appointment and the paranoia of losing a valuable friendship because of a text message that was meant to be harmless. He's clearly overthinking things, right? But then why didn't she reply? Peter sighed, opening his eyes. He pressed the home button on his phone, staring down at his screensaver. No notifications. He shook his head, diverting his attention to the busyness of New York outside his window. He spent the rest of the ride trying to keep his brain occupied from the unsettling ideas derailing his train of thought.

It didn't take much longer for the bus to arrive in the area of the city that Peter needed to get off. He tugged on the string, alerting the bus driver to stop and hopped out of the vehicle after calling out a thanks to the driver. Not enough people thank bus drivers in this city, Peter thought to himself as he headed in the direction of the clinic. His anxiety started to set in once again. He hadn't seen Dr. Fitzpatrick in months. He was supposed to be making progress, but he didn't think he had. In fact, things had only seemed to have gotten worse for him, but he didn't really want to disclose this to a stranger in a comfy armchair. He made his way up the steps, hesitating at the door. He hauled out his phone, checking to see if MJ had messaged back one last time.

No new messages.

Dr. Fitzpatrick's room looked exactly as Peter remembered it. The walls were still their glum shade of blue, the hardwood floor the same dark mahogany it had been when Peter had walked in here just seven months ago. Dr. Fitzpatrick looked up from his desk, smiling at him.

"Peter! Great, just in time! Take a seat!" He exclaimed enthusiastically while he gestured to the navy couch just a few feet away from his desk, the matching arm chair directly across from it. Peter tried to relax his shoulders, wiping his sweaty palms into his jeans as he crossed the room. He knew the second he sat, Dr. Fitzpatrick would get up from behind his desk and move to the armchair in an attempt to make the situation more casual and relaxing. But Peter was anything but relaxed.

"You seem a bit tense, rough day?" Dr. Fitzpatrick asked, doing exactly as Peter suspected as he got comfy on the couch. The man moved to sit in the chair, his black notebook in one hand and his thermos in the other. He took a small sip from the thermos, waiting for Peter to answer.

"It's been okay. Physics exam," Peter explained with a weak chuckle, although deep down he knew the knots in his stomach had nothing to do with physics.

"Awe, physics." Dr. Fitzpatrick said with an approving nod. A few beats of silence past between them before Dr. Fitzpatrick spoke again.

"So, why did you want to see me today, Peter?" He asked, shifting around in his chair to become the laidback listener he always seemed to be. His gaze was serious, making Peter shift his eyes to the floor.

"To be honest, I didn't want to," Peter admitted, making eye contact briefly. "My aunt insisted that I come."

"Your aunt really cares about you," Dr. Fitzpatrick noted, and Peter nodded in agreement.

"She really does," Peter said, a slight sigh escaping.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Dr. Fitzpatrick stated with a tilt of his head.

"It's not a bad thing."

"You don't sound convinced, Peter."

"I just know these sessions are useless and a waste of time and money," Peter couldn't help but blurt out, biting his lip once he realized his outburst. "No offense."

"None taken." Dr. Fitzpatrick said with a tight smile, scribbling down on his notepad. Peter had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

"Well, you're here. And I am here. It's only for an hour. Why don't we make the best out of it?" Dr. Fitzpatrick suggested, giving Peter a more genuine smile. Peter nodded slowly. It would be a complete waste of money to sit here for an hour and have a staring contest with this man.

"Is there anything you want to talk about? Anything bothering you?" Dr. Fitzpatrick prompted.

"Not… really."

"You hesitated. Come on, Peter. You already know everything that happens in this room stays between me and you. Patient confidentiality, remember?" Dr. Fitzpatrick tried another smile, but Peter was making it hard to lighten the mood even a little. After a bit more silence, Dr. Fitzpatrick sighed himself and adjusted his glasses on his nose.

"How are things with your aunt?" Dr. Fitzpatrick blatantly asked. Peter looked away.

"They're okay. I know she's really worried about me," Peter said softly.

"You have suffered a tragic lost in your family. Grief can be a very long, difficult process," Dr. Fitzpatrick said with an affirmative nod. "It makes sense for your aunt to be worried."

"Yeah, but I'm grown, you know?" Peter tried to explain.

"You're fifteen Peter. Am I correct?"

"You are… But I'm not a kid. I can take care of myself. My aunt spends so much time babying me that she's not looking after herself." Peter stated bitterly.

"Maybe that is how your aunt copes. Grief takes many forms, maybe concerning herself with you keeps her mind occupied."

"Yeah. But it's not fair! I try so hard to make things easier for her and she just turns around and makes things complicated for the both of us. She stresses herself out way too much when it comes to me, and I mean… I get why, but I don't know…"

"When people say they don't know… they often do know." Dr. Fitzpatrick gives Peter a sheepish grin, scribbling notes.

Peter sighed loudly, "I don't know how to say it."

"Do you want to say it?" Dr. Fitzpatrick asked.

"I mean… I have to say stuff, don't I?"

"You don't have to talk about anything you don't want to talk about, Peter. You're in control here."

Peter sighed again, keeping his mouth shut as he tried to think of a way out of this conversation.

"Why isn't it fair?" Dr. Fitzpatrick prompted again after Peter had been quiet for too long.

"Why isn't what fair?" Peter asked, visibly irritated.

"Why isn't your aunt worrying about you fair?" Dr. Fitzpatrick clarified.

Peter bit his lip. "It's not fair that she is always worried. She doesn't deserve to be worried all the time."

"And you feel responsible for that?" Dr. Fitzpatrick asked.

"What? No! Well, I mean. Sort of…"

"Why?"

"Because… I cause so much of her worrying even though I'm trying not to. I try to do my best in school… I try to keep myself occupied and out of her hair… and I've been keeping myself out of trouble… and she's still worrying."

"Well, her worrying shows she cares about you. She is your guardian after all… and the death of your uncle was hard on both of you… are you sure you don't want to talk about that?" Dr. Fitzpatrick asked.

"No." Peter stated bluntly. "I don't want to talk about that."

"Understandable. You're in control. We don't have to…" Dr. Fitzpatrick repeated, giving Peter a knowing nod.

"So, a lot of this conversation has been focussed on your aunt… not you." Dr. Fitzpatrick mentioned after reviewing his notes.

"Yeah, I guess."

"How're you feeling, Peter?"

"I'm fine."

"I get the feeling you've been saying that a lot."

"I have."

"Are you really fine?"

"Yep."

"Okay… Nothing new or interesting going on?"

"Not really."

"No exciting trips? No new girlfriends? Boyfriends? Friends in general?"

"Nope. Nothing new."

Dr. Fitzpatrick almost looked disappointed. "Peter, why do you never want to talk about anything?"

"Why do you always insist we talk about things?" Peter snapped back.

"I'm a psychotherapist. It is my job," Dr. Fitzpatrick hit him with another sheepish grin, one that Peter did not return.

"I think it would be good for you to talk about some things. Get them off your chest. It's not good to bottle everything up, you know?"

"I have heard that a few times."

"Peter." Dr. Fitzpatrick stared at him seriously. "Do you really want to waste your time here avoiding my questions?"

"I'd rather not be here. Period."

Dr. Fitzpatrick took a few more notes before glancing up at the teenager sitting across from him. "The door is right there if you want to leave and end early."

Peter stared at the door, but he could already hear his Aunt May screaming at him for leaving early. Therapy wasn't cheap and his aunt forked out a great deal of cash for him to be here.

"I don't know how talking about things is going to help me…" Peter admitted quietly.

"Why don't you give it a try? You're in control of the conversation, Peter. You don't have to feel obligated to tell me everything. You can even start with something small and we can work from there." Dr. Fitzpatrick said gently, staring at Peter with softened eyes.

"That makes it sound like you're expecting me to come back." Peter snorted.

"Only if you want to," Dr. Fitzpatrick nodded. "So, let's begin?"

Peter slowly began to open up to Dr. Fitzpatrick. He talked about uncle Ben and aunt May and what life had been like six months ago, casually forgetting to mention the spider bite and his not-so-newfound powers. He reminisced mostly, talking about the good memories and slowly moving into how much he missed his Uncle Ben.

"I have nightmares sometimes," Peter admitted quietly.

"Of your uncle Ben?" Dr. Fitzpatrick asked, seeming incredibly intrigued.

"Yeah, sometimes. I can't help but imagine the situation."

"Your uncle died from a breaking and entering?"

"Yeah…" Peter stared down at his hands. "It's hard to talk about… or think about…"

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to…" Dr. Fitzpatrick repeated once more, but Peter could feel the therapist's energy enveloping the room; Dr. Fitzpatrick was excited for this breakthrough. But the feeling put Peter at unease. He said too much during this session, hadn't he? The feeling of being exposed made Peter put up his walls again.

"I think we should stop here." Peter managed to squeak out. His voice sounded pathetically weak to his own ears and he forced a smile for the man staring at him from only a few feet away.

Dr. Fitzpatrick nodded slowly, his face falling in disappointment as he glanced down at his watch to check the time. "Well, we do only have five minutes left. Not really much time to unpack anything else…"

Peter nodded in agreement, starting to stand from the couch. He couldn't get out of that room fast enough. "Thank you for listening, Dr. Fitzpatrick!"

Dr. Fitzpatrick rose from his armchair too, shaking Peter's hand before he headed to his desk. Peter was almost out the door when he heard the therapist speak up again.

"Peter, before you go…" He rooted around in a drawer before hauling out some sheets and handing them to Peter, "I do recommend you trying some of these techniques when you're feeling sad or anxious… Not all of them work. It differs from person to person, but I think they could be beneficial."

Peter slowly took the worksheets, mumbling a small thank you. Dr. Fitzpatrick smiled widely before opening the door for Peter. "I do hope I'll be seeing you again, Mr. Parker. May I ask if this was helpful at all?"

Peter bit his lip, feeling like he was under a microscope the way Dr. Fitzpatrick was staring at him. "Yes, Doc. It was a bit helpful," Peter admitted quietly, trying to maintain eye contact to seem entirely truthful. "Sorry about being so hard to get along with."

"It's nothing," Dr. Fitzpatrick chuckled. "Take care of yourself now, Mr. Parker."

Peter finished up his goodbyes with the therapist before heading out once again. Once he made it out of the building, he started down the street and tried to understand the emotions he was experiencing. Honestly, he was feeling a bit better. It was hard to talk to people about his uncle Ben without getting sympathetic smiles and unhelpful comments. So, he didn't really talk about him. But that didn't mean Peter didn't miss him or that he didn't want to talk about him. And it was nice to be able to finally confide in someone that he was having nightmares. He just wished that someone wasn't a middle-aged man with a PhD in psychology that charged an arm and a leg per session. He sighed, starting to head back to the bus stop so he could get home. He took out his phone, just to check the time, and was delighted to see a message in his notifications:

"The only thing that got its ass kicked today was that stupid exam. I don't want to look at my physics textbook for the rest of my life :(" – MJ

Peter laughed quietly to himself, noticing MJ had sent that message about a half hour ago. He quickly texted back.

"That bad, huh?" – Peter

Peter made it to the bus stop, pocketing his phone when he felt the vibration of it against his leg. He slipped it back out to check the new message.

"Bearable. Hey, weird request, but do you want to grab a milkshake with me? It's been a rough day and it'd be nice to sit and talk with a friend for awhile" – MJ

Peter felt his heart flutter. He texted back as fast as he possibly could.

"Yeah! Sure, where do you want to meet?" - Peter

And scene. I know it's not action filled and probably not the best thing to post after going AWOL for months, but it is what it is. Hopefully you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!