Re: AMNH: Gwen & Pete
Admitting that Gwen had helped, even that he'd maybe kind of needed her help every now and then, would just make it even more impossible to keep her safe, but Peter wasn't the kind of lone wolf type who couldn't swallow not being able to do everything on his own. He hated other people being put in the line of fire because of him, yeah, but that was different. It wasn't about him not wanting help, it was about him not wanting anyone to get hurt. And she could argue with him all day long, but nothing was going to stop him from thinking that he'd gotten her killed. Carnage would go after her with or without him, he knew that this time around, but no way was he going to fail at saving her again. She didn't want to play it safe? Fine. But he wasn't being benched on this because he hadn't been around long enough or wasn't messed up enough, whatever.
Which he would totally insist on later. When she wasn't laughing behind her hand and nodding like she really would dare spread dumb rumors about him. Her laughter made it even harder to keep a straight face, and his narrow-eyed glare came off less scary and more comical than he'd intended. He knew he'd messed up with MJ, and he knew Gwen'd shoved him into the category of guys who'd always choose the redhead in the end. Maybe that would never change, even if MJ got with Flash or whoever else, and maybe he'd have to work a little harder at the just friends thing, but he kind of held out hope that he still had a chance... even though he didn't deserve one. But right, yeah, he was totally not expecting anything, because there were way too many variables for expectations.
Still, though, this was nice. Almost like old times, if he pushed everything else aside.
He knew he was terrible. Of course he was terrible. He had no idea what he was doing, and he flushed a little when she told him as much. "Terrible is such a strong word," he muttered, looking down at his feet like that might help him figure out how to do it right. But she was smiling, which couldn't be a bad thing, and he looked up as she moved closer. "More swaying," he echoed. "Okay." He slowed right down afterward, and maybe he shuffled a tiny bit closer but the waltzing definitely stopped. He got quiet, all of a sudden, and he didn't mean to stare, but where else was there to look but at her? "Better?" It came out as more of a whisper than he'd intended.