Reading Castle in the Air to out loud to my housemates (pt. 2/2)
Picking up in Chapter 14-ish:
The djinn: "He first ordered me to steal a certain moving castle belonging to a wizard in this land of Ingary."
Housemate #1: "Oh my. Howl is furious right now." Me: "Yes, yes he is."
The genie is afraid of heights! I had forgotten about that detail. I don't think the housemates picked up on it mwahaha.
(I'm actually a bit frustrated now, because I feel certain that it came up in HMC that Howl is afraid of heights, and now I can't find where that was.)
Also the carpet being so smug that Abdullah is complimenting it while the genie is just wailing irately over both heights and having to listen to Abdullah flatter the carpet is just… it's them. It's very obvious that it's them.
All right, time to finish the rest of the book in one night, because Stuff Is Happening now.
Lettie: *realizes that Midnight is Sophie*. The housemates: "What?!!"
The housemates: "But that means Howl is Whippersnapper!" Me: *actually stops reading for like three minutes laughing uncontrollably*
The housemates: "Oh no, Abdullah's going to try to help with the wards and stuff is going to go wrong."
Sophie: "I have no idea where Howl is." The housemates: "What?!"
The housemates: "Wait, Michael must be Whippersnapper!" Sophie: *immediately clarifies that Michael left before the djinn showed up*. The housemates: *audible confusion*
*magic mirrors show Morgan*. The housemates: "They had a baby?!"
It honestly is interesting, though, because technically the reader has no proof and no reason to assume that Sophie and Howl had a kid between HMC and Castle, aside from the starting assumption that Whippersnapper is in fact Midnight's kitten. I hadn't thought of it but I can see why the housemates got tripped up on that.
Sophie basically scolds the air into letting them breathe properly on the way up to the castle and it's such a Sophie thing to do. Also it reminds me of a post about some old rain-spell that was basically scolding the clouds and about that being a Sophie-esque thing and I need to find that post and reblog it.
Sophie and Howl both hate heights. This is deeply entertaining xD
Sophie's ongoing commentary on which parts of the castle used to be the bathroom, or the broom cupboard, or something else, is just too much fun. The housemates seem to think so as well :D
There is so much screaming in the last few chapters and it is so much fun to read aloud but also my voice is probably going to regret it tomorrow.
After Flower-in-the-Night convinces the djinns to send the cook and his dog to Valeria:
Both housemates: "Wait!"
Housemate #2: "It's Howl!"
Housemate #1: "What? No, it's the squid maker guy!"
(Housemate #2 just really wants Howl back. Frankly I don't blame her.)
"Abdullah thought the metal pulley noise Sophie used to make as Midnight was actually nicer than the noise she was making now." Housemate #2: *promptly starts imitating an angry cat*
Sophie: *talks the curtains into being soundproof*
And she thinks she's not a powerful witch? She basically can make anything true just by saying that it is true.
So, all of the relationships in this books are literally love at first sight, aside from the already established ones like Howl and Sophie. And that's a little… I need to not actually stop and think about that, because if I do I'll inevitably get frustrated about unrealistic relationships. So. Not thinking about that, the soldier/Justin and Beatrice are pretty cute, and I appreciate that, even in what's basically a "love at first sight" trope, they fell for each other's characters and not their appearances. It's refreshing.
The Princess of High Norland hires Jamal! *giggles in Has Read House of Many Ways*
Flower: "And how many young ladies have you kissed by now?" Housemates: "Of course her thoughts would be so simple."
Flower-in-the-Night is extremely dramatic. That is all I will say on that. But I kind of relate, honestly.
Jamal: *patting Abdullah on the head and calling him "good dog"*. The housemates: *dying laughing*
The climax has so much going on. If I thought HMC had a convoluted climax I was wrong. Castle is much more chaotic.
"Finally [Hasruel] folded his great wings and became a dog himself." The housemates die laughing, and I have to stop reading the book to catch my breath, because I barely got through that paragraph.
Just. The dog. Jamal's dog. We love him. He is an excellent dog, even if he bites everyone (because he bites everyone).
It's interesting to see Abdullah's progression from fully adhering to the manners of Zanzib, to the point where he kicks Jamal to shut him up without a second thought.
*not me pinching my nose to more accurately do Hasruel's lines after he gets his nose bitten*
The neices. I do not know what to do with the neices. I am kind of exasperated by them.
"I like them much better than princesses. Why didn't I collect fat ladies instead?" Okay, someone's going to come after me for this, but this is funny.
Sophie: "Hello. My name is Sophie Hatter. You stole my husband. Prepare to die."
Sophie is just on an entire vengeful streak after she gets un-cat-ified, and it's kind of hilarious.
Sophie: *mentions Howl*. The genie: *starts making a fuss*. The housemates: *audible screams of excitement*
It's Howl!!!
The housemates are just as "what, you didn't realize?" as Sophie is.
Housemate #2: "Man, Howl was a useless genie! Sophie must be furious with him, actively sabotaging his own rescue. Why is she not yelling at him?" Me: "First: this is Howl; what did you expect? Second: you think she's not going to yell at him? This is Sophie."
Howl, holding Morgan: "My word, he's ugly!" Both housemates: "Howl!"
But also I love how nonchalant he is about his kid. I mean, he knew Morgan existed. He probably knew who Sophie and Morgan were as soon as they showed up as Midnight and Whippersnapper. He's had time to get used to the idea. So now he's just casually holding a baby while confronting a djinn. Which I love, for whatever reason.
And now, yes, my dear housemates. Back when you realized the moving castle had been stolen and said that Howl must be furious, you were absolutely correct. Why did you think the genie wanted to ruin everyone's lives?
Howl: "Calcifer must be here somewhere." The housemates: *scream Calcifer's name right along with Howl (and me)*
The carpet: *moves*. Housemate #1's eyes turn to literal saucers because she realizes: "Of course! No wonder he only responded to flattery!"
Howl and Calcifer immediately start quarrelling and, I mean, they've been quarrelling the entire book. And it's hilarious.
*a ton of foreign ambassadors show up*. The housemates: "How did they get there?" Me: "Y'know, I actually don't know that one…"
"'Do you know me?' Howl asked. Abdullah bowed. 'At least as well as you know me.' 'That's what I was afraid of,' Howl said ruefully." Another grand moment of getting the housemates to crack up.
*the Sultan has a fifty-foot stake for Abdullah*. The housemates: "Oh, he increased it by ten feet!"
Housemates think Sophie's responsible for the ever-blooming bluebell wood at Abdullah and Flower's house. I'm inclined to agree.
In conclusion, the housemates were delighted by the book, and I was delighted by the entire experience of reading it out loud. We're going to start House of Many Ways now :D
Wait I almost forgot!
(You can't change my mind on this one)
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Florence - Chapter One
You and Peter Parker are former childhood best friends. As next door neighbours, you and him spent a great deal of time together, either at school, playing video games, or during your yearly summer vacations at Florence, Italy. But after you drifted away from him- you both went to different colleges, and you figured you wouldn't need to bother him anymore with your unrequited crush that you had never spoken of but clearly showed symptoms of- things are very awkward. It's even more so when you receive an invitation to Harry and MJ's destination wedding, located at Florence, of course.
former childhood friends to friends to lovers, mutual pining, loads of flashbacks to Florence vacations and other things, flirting, fluff and angst and eventual smut
no use of y/n, your father is Logan Howlett and you go by your last name
Masterlist | Next Chapter
It’s raining outside.
Just moments before, as you decided to go check out your mailbox, it was a hot, sunny day. Typical for June 15th- a normal, almost sunny day. Of course, technically you’re in the last days of spring, so a downpour of rain started as you were opening your mailbox.
“Aw, fucking- damn it!” You stuff the mail under your shirt, and begin running across the sidewalk.
Your hair is drenched in seconds- your shirt, too, is pretty damp- and when you’re finally at your porch, you can see so many puddles of water accumulated at your street. Weather is just crazy in New York.
One second later, you realize that you’ve left your mailbox open, and your keys are still in the keyhole of the box, so now you’re running yet again, down the street, rain making you totally wet and you know for a fact you’re going to have to change out of your clothes. You shut the mailbox door, grab your keys, and run back.
When you finally make it to your door, you’re sweating, soaked, and totally embarrassed.
May Parker- your sweet, older neighbour- is at her own porch, and she waves at you.
“Hey, Lettie. Going for an afternoon walk?” She asks, but really, she’s teasing, and you shrug. You haven’t been on the best of the terms with the Parkers lately.
“Just getting mail.” You pick up the envelopes, and quickly scan through them.
Bills, dentist appointment reminder, flyers full of coupons… baby clothing catalogue? I’m not pregnant. You think to yourself. But you see that it’s listed to M. Parker- it’s obviously for your neighbour.
“Hey, May.” You stroll over to her porch, and hand her the baby clothing catalogue. “For… you?”
“Well, not for me like that, if that’s what you’re thinking.” May laughs, and flips through it. “Loads of women come to FEAST either pregnant or with babies- and I can’t always count on donations to help them, y’know?” She says it all matter-of-fact like, but you feel bad.
You used to donate at FEAST. You even used to volunteer there, around ten years ago when you were still in high school.
Things are different now, though.
You sift through the rest of your mail, feeling too uncomfortable to just let May stand here on her own. You wonder why she’s just out- sometimes she’s drinking tea, just chilling- but she’s very clearly waiting for something.
A very, very ornate envelope is on the front of your pile, and you pick it up gingerly.
What is this? One of those charity scams where the envelope looks really prestigious, so you’re motivated to donate? You wonder, but it dawns on you slowly.
Ivory white paper.
Silky to the touch.
Rococo imprints and detailing.
Oh no… You open it up, knowing exactly what this has to be. A wedding invitation?
You’re at the age where tons of your peers are getting married. Just last year, Gwen finally married Miles in a very nice, close friends only, cozy sort of wedding. And it’s not that you feel lonely, exactly- maybe it’s just that the pressure is finally weighing in a little.
You don’t think you have to get married. You are a feminist, something you can thank your dear old dad, Logan Howlett, for, since he has never been one to pressure you on this. In fact, he has always been the first to say that you don’t need a man and you especially don’t need one of those “punk-ass kids walking around today, like they own the damn planet.”
You know that’s true. Kind of, anyways. But you still feel like you are missing out on something, like the magical, perfect ending to a story that is marriage, that everyone always talks about. Feeling left behind.
Maybe you are lonely in a different way. Maybe it feels like your peers are moving on into different stages of their life, because that is what’s happening.
Still, no need to panic. You’re just having a momentary lapse in judgement- it’s fine.
The invitation reads, in gorgeous swoopy gold lettering that has yourself smiling despite yourself:
Mary Jane “MJ” Watson and Harold Theopolis “Harry” Osborn Will be Wedded On July 21st, 2023 In Florence, Italy At the Florence Cathedral
Accommodations will be provided.
A two-week long stay will be arranged prior to your visit, with maids and chefs attending to your every need. More details will be sent soon.
Your smile drops.
You love Harry and MJ. You always knew that Harry would go all out for getting married, like he does for most things, and especially for MJ, a girl that he loves more than he loves custom cufflinks from Tiffany’s.
It doesn’t hurt that MJ is gorgeous- she’s a stunning, 5’10 model with killer longs legs and a lithe, small waist that puts her on the cover of every magazine easily. Surprisingly natural cherry-red hair that pours off her head in the most silky, straight long curtain.
But what really matters, as you always remind yourself before you get too caught up in admiring MJ’s looks and comparing yourself to her, is that MJ is a sweetheart. She always has been- always asks you how you’re doing and if you need anything, even if she herself is busy. MJ is the one who managed to soften Harry’s heart after he had a devastating fight with his father back in high school, when he was in his me-against-the-world phase.
You just wonder why they had to pick Florence, of all the places to go. Why not Tokyo, or Berlin, or Dubai? Why the one place where all your childhood memories with Peter Parker seem to reside, and just the thought of him makes your heart vaguely ache?
May sees what you’re looking at, and smiles widely. “Oh, Isn’t this great? Your childhood friends are finally getting hitched!”
You smile softly. “Yeah… and in Florence, too.”
May nods excitedly. “It’ll be just like back then, when you two were little. Peter’s on his way here- he’s just being picked up by Ben from New Jersey.”
You nod, but you’re not really listening. You didn’t even know Peter was in New Jersey- you’ve been avoiding talking to him for at least a year now. The last message he sent to you was “hey, howlett, you okay?” after not receiving a response for a week.
It’s awkward. You’ve ghosted him, and now you’re on his front porch. Before you can leave, Ben’s car is pulling up onto the driveway.
It’s too bad, you think. You’re easily flustered by confrontation- and it doesn’t help when Peter technically never did anything wrong.
You and your stupid feelings.
Ben exits the car, and pulls Peter’s suitcase out of the trunk. Peter himself wanders out, his tall, long body stretching outwards. He’s always been a lot taller than you.
He looks tired. Eyebags are heavy, and he’s got a bit of a slouch going on. There’s a bit of scruffy stubble adorning his jaw, and it’s either because he was too tired to shave it, or he was going for a bit of a look.
But Peter’s eyes instantly brighten when he sees you, and you feel that same ache again, that despite your poor treatment of him, he still looks at you with kindness.
“Howlett.” He leans forward to fist bump you, just like you always greeted each other, and to your surprise, you fist bump him back.
“Peter.” You give him a small, fond smile, and even if you know you’re faking it- that you’re trying not to grimace- Peter doesn’t let on that he knows that.
/
Logan has been drinking his morning coffee for the last four hours. It’s noon, but that’s how he likes it sometimes. Slow, boring sips as he stares out the window.
He wonders what’s taking you so damn long. He just wants to see if Charles has sent out the school schedules in the mail yet- so he knows for sure what grade he’s teaching this year.
Elementary school is shitty, he knows. Snot-nosed kids can be their own worst enemies, or they can start fighting each other, and even worse, teachers like him have to be on top of it all the time.
You always laugh when he tells you. “War never changes, kiddo.”
He’s just hoping it’s at least fifth grade. Ten year olds are smarter than the world gives them credit for.
You were even smarter than that, though. You and Pete- the two smartest kids in the neighbourhood- would always mutually read your library books together, and insist on extra homework, and even go to the mathematics club together. And if you weren’t doing that, you’d both be chasing each other around the playground, completely oblivious to the beginnings of a crush.
As Logan thinks about Peter and how you both used to be best buds, until something happened and you forever refused to talk about it with him, his eyes narrow as he sees you on the Parker porch. You don’t usually fraternize with neighbours- you’re too busy doing your remote coding job, typically spending hours cooped up in your room until Logan pesters you to get sunlight- so it’s a little suspicious.
Until, of course, he watches as your face reddens and Peter Parker himself walks up to you. Logan has a little smirk on his face- he was never going to push you to deal with Pete, he’s just glad that the universe had it’s own little goals in mind.
It seems kind of crazy just how old you are. To Logan, at least, it feels like just yesterday, rather than twenty something years ago, that you were in kindergarten and he was picking you up excitedly, wanting to remember what school was like from the perspective from a kid.
And then just two years later, the Parkers moved in next door. Peter was in your second grade class, and you two were inseparable. Peter and Howlett- you hate going by your first name, so everyone calls you either Howlett, or some alternative of that like Lettie or Howl- anyways, Logan has always thought it was you and Pete against the world.
That was the year that the Florence summer vacations began.
/
You’re having a flashback as May, Ben and Peter allow you to sit down in their home. May has set down a cup of tea for you- you’re grateful to have something to sip on as you try to avoid conversation.
You’re nine years old again, in a stripy swimsuit, and you’re playing on the sandy beaches of Italy with Peter, who’s eagerly licking a popsicle. Sand grains are sticking to his elbows, hands, and the back of his neck. You’re instructing him on how to help you correctly make the sandcastle, and Peter is eagerly listening, forever your willing best friend, doing whatever you’ll say.
The sunshine is bright- maybe a little too much for your dad- and he picks you up, slathering you in sunscreen as you hiss and shriek at him.
“Put me down, Dad- this is embarrassing-!”
“Settle down, ya little wolverine- just some sun protection.” Your dad leaves a dab of sunscreen around the corner of your mouth as he sets you back down, and Peter giggles.
“Hey, look, Howlett- you still got some sunscreen on your mouth.” He snorts, and then falls over laughing when you glare at him.
“You need sun protection too, Parker!” And you charge towards him, letting the last bits of sunscreen that haven’t quite melted into your skin, transfer onto his.
Peter yells as he tries to keep you away, but you’re too fast for him. Your arms clamber around him- but Peter is still a bit taller so he tries to lift you away from him- and the next thing you know you’ve both fallen over the sandcastle, with a very soft thump.
You’re on top of Peter, which is disconcerting on it’s own considering these new warm feelings you keep having for him, but what’s really confusing you is the soft, squishy thing against your mouth.
You open your eyes and see that Peter’s lips are connected to your own, in the most accidental, chaste kiss. It’s an embrace that shocks you, because you know what that is, what that means- and you pull yourself away, and Peter stands up in shock too. Your heads bump together for a second as you stumble in confusion, the warm, fuzzy feelings exploding tenfold.
Peter immediately says that he’s sorry. And you’re okay with that, because you don’t really know what this all means, and you’re not exactly ready for all that. You’re just glad your dad didn’t see- he probably would’ve freaked.
You come back to yourself in the present. That moment makes you grow numb, because you had always considered that your first kiss, until things changed for the worst. This is why you don’t really talk to Peter anymore- he’s not an ex, he’s just a complicated person for you.
Even MJ knows that. Inside the envelope was a second card, handwritten in her perfect script:
Dearest Howlett-ie, the best girl in the whole world,
I am so excited to see you in Italy! I know, by the way. I tried to talk Harry out of it but apparently he got a really good deal with arranging the wedding in the Florence Cathedral. But if it feels hard for you, I understand.
I promise it won’t be that bad, because we’re staying at the Villa Cetinale. It’s a really pretty house- and it’s in Siena, so it’s not quite Florence, although it is next to it.
I have a big ask. Will you be my maid of honour? I’ve always dreamt that you’d be by my side for the wedding, because I love you and you’re like my sister. If not that, at least a bridesmaid. I won’t hear a no from you on that!
I hope you’re doing okay (don’t let coding be your entire life, please!) and I’m gonna make sure the situation with Peter isn’t awkward. Don’t even worry about it- I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t have to interact with him.
At this point in the letter, you genuinely wanted to laugh. You’re already sitting next to him at his house, and May is talking all about the wedding, so Peter knows. An interaction is imminent.
It’s also insanely childish of you to expect him not to talk to you, when again, he’s not an ex boyfriend, and even then, you have been amicable with your ex boyfriend. And you shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t have to expect MJ to cater to you on her wedding day.
Also, although I would miss you, I understand if you want to go back home early after the wedding. You probably have important work to do, like you always do. I hope to hear from you soon!
Love, MJ
It’s the sweetest message ever, and it’s so MJ, and you can’t let her do any of this for you. Because you’re a Howlett, and your dad didn’t raise a damn quitter, and you love MJ. You have been best friends since she was in your and Peter’s sixth grade science class, and that was where all the trouble began for you.
“Did you hear me, Peter?” May shakes his shoulder, and the movement causes the two of you to lean towards each other on the sofa.
Peter stiffens, and then shakes his head. He doesn’t exactly pull away- and this is why you hate him sometimes.
Why couldn’t he just be more succinct in his rejection of you? This weird wishy washy, I like being next to you, but I will never see you like that, is exactly why you ended up trying to leave him alone.
You suppose that it’s because you never openly told him that you liked him, and his rejection is just implied- up in the air, but you have assumed it based on the facts- and that he’s still a friendly person. But friendship, just friendship, from someone you know you still love hurts a lot.
“Harry’s been calling the house. He says you wouldn’t pick up your cellphone. He wants you to be his best man, Peter.” May says, and Peter blinks slowly.
He yawns loudly, stretching his arms, and the gentlest touch from his forearm to yours has you nearly reeling.
“Really? Me?” Peter sounds mildly confused. “There’s not some billionaire tech heir he’d rather ask?”
“Oh, stop that.” Ben interjects, looking wise as ever as he leans against his own seat. “I admit the boy has changed a lot, maybe for the worse-”
“Lavish partying? No class consciousness?” Peter scoffs. “I’d say.”
“Anyways, he’s still your friend. One of your closest.” Ben drinks his own coffee. “You’d be the one to change him, at least.”
“At his wedding? I don’t know, Uncle Ben.” Peter sighs. “Okay, fine. Only because you’re right that he’s my friend and I want to see him get married.”
“I wonder who the maid of honour is.” May stares at her fingernails, and despite the growing embarrassment inside of you, you answer.
“MJ asked me to do it.” You mumble, but May claps excitedly.
“Aw, that’s wonderful! You two will look perfect next to each other.” May seems totally oblivious to how you want to sink into the cushions of the couch under you.
Peter nods. “It makes sense. We are neighbours… and best friends.”
Why does it feel like the whole universe is against you today? You have nothing to say to his reply, so you just nod.
/
Telling your dad is so not fun when he spends the whole time laughing.
“So you won’t tell me why you hate Pete- but now you’re gonna be spending hours with him?” Logan slaps his knee, tears coming out of his eyes. “It’s just perfect.”
The word perfect echoes in your mind a few times, and you ignore the urge to claw your dad’s eyes out. It’s not that anyone means any harm- it’s that even you thought you and Peter were perfect, clearly meant to be, and that sadly wasn’t the case.
It’s just a reminder of how you lead yourself on.
“Never mind, Dad.” You scowl at him as he hoots with laughter about how you should just tell Pete. That you supposedly want him.
You don't- at least, not anymore- and you run upstairs to your room and flop angrily onto the bed.
Then, you gather your hair into a floppy bun/ponytail/scrunchie and start cleaning. It's stress relief, yes, but it's also because your room has accumulated a lot of trash, and it's pissing you off.
You put on your headphones, blast some music, and throw things into a garbage bag, including several diet cans of Coke, a wrapper for a Jamaican beef patty, and coffee cups.
Your phone starts ringing. It's MJ wanting to video call- and you prop your phone up on your desk before answering.
/
Peter is so, so tired.
The first thing he wanted to do when he got home was to sleep. He already knew about the wedding- Harry asked him on how to propose to MJ ages ago.
But of course he could not just rest when he got home- May had to go on and on about how being best man means getting beauty sleep, so he would look good in all the pictures.
But he didn’t expect to have to talk about all this wedding stuff so much today. It’s only going to get worse, he knows- it’s a month and a week away, and in wedding time that might as well be five minutes.
Even worse- he sees that you’re still not in the right mood to talk to him. Peter, as smart as he is, has no idea what he did wrong, and it’s only out of respect to you that he doesn’t just throttle you and ask for the answer.
He has never considered you not his best friend, and the fact that you might as well be pulling away from him now, possibly forever, makes him feel sick to his stomach. How can he rectify the issue when he doesn’t know what it is?
He’s been lying on his bed, throwing a tennis ball up at his ceiling, and then catching it. The repetitive motion usually allows Peter to turn the cogs and gears in his mind, but… Dr. Octavius had him working days and nights for the last six months, so Peter’s head just isn’t in the right space.
He thinks about the timeline, as he often does.
Peter met you in second grade at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. In Ms. Grey’s class- she was a pretty redhead, and Peter would often wistfully think about marrying her in the way that a second grader has a crush on their teacher- until, of course, he and you witnessed Logan and her in a very passionate embrace at a school dance, sometime in the fourth grade.
Peter shudders.
Then around… the summer break where you were both nine years old, you headed to Florence, Italy. Just you, Logan, (not your mom as that was a touchy subject for everyone, and to this day, Peter has no idea who your mom even is), Aunt May, Uncle Ben, and Peter. It was really special- vacations were not something Logan or May or Ben could typically afford- but it was a seasonal package offered from Logan’s teaching job, and it included all five potential members of a family.
Logan and Ben were drinking buddies, and they liked playing poker together, much to the chagrin of May, but she would sometimes join in too. Peter was- is- your best friend, and so it seemed obvious to Logan that the five of you should go.
And every year, every summer break, from the ages of nine to just eighteen, you would go to Florence together. As you went every year, traditions would be formed, bonds would be stronger, and everyone would feel relaxed as the Italian sunsets warmed your bodies and minds.
Peter has many fond memories from those times. You and him would always sit next to each other on the plane, and watch movies for the whole duration for the flight, even if Logan would tell you guys that you needed to sleep at some point.
Then, because the bus taking you to Florence would drive from the Naples airport to your hotel there- you would always get Neapolitan pizza, and split it together. And there was always basil-mint gelato to be had, too.
Then, there would be swimming on the lovely, warm beaches of Italy, and maybe some sightseeing- there’s a lot of gorgeous, religious art there. You also loved walking down the cobblestone streets of Florence with Peter- chasing random things that caught your eyes, and taking loads of pictures. He wasn’t religious at all, but he enjoyed visiting the churches by your side. You also went out of your way to hike a lot, through Italy’s marvelous architecture and fields. You visited a winery, even though when you went, you were both a little too young to officially drink, but Logan let you guys have a sip anyways.
Peter smiles to himself. One of his favourite memories was the year you both were thirteen- starting out into the world of teenagers- and you had just started your period. It was not a good time for you, and you were clearly very grumpy about it. He gave you a heating pad, and pain medication, and didn’t go swimming until your period was over, so you could go together. You had been so happy when he told you that- and you hugged him so tight, he’s been chasing that feeling ever since.
When you began high school, you brought all your textbooks and things with you on the trip that year- even though Logan, May and Ben called you a bunch of nerds- and studied for your exams together. Peter was glad to have you as a study buddy, because Harry slacked a lot and Peter didn’t want that kind of behaviour influencing him. MJ was pretty good at studying, too, but if Harry asked her to go out, she was the type to just give up.
There was that really sweet time that you and Peter went to the aquarium and watched a group of baby turtles swim together. And you bought a pair of turtle keychains- it’s still dangling off of his work bag.
There was also that absolutely hilarious time that Peter heard you screaming in your motel room- you both must’ve been 15 at that point- and he leapt in there to see you coming out of the bathroom, still in your first bikini. Peter tried not to be a creep about this- but he was a nerdy 15 year old and it was difficult to avert his eyes from any young, budding, almost developed-woman- and he stared at you, face reddening, before you stammered out about a large spider in the bathroom. It was quite large, and he managed to catch it and get rid of it.
Peter remembers that you grabbed his arm in relief, and then let go, stuttering about how you needed to change your clothes, and he tried not to freak out over that mental image at the time. He snorts about it now- what a silly young kid he used to be.
He wonders why he still feels like one. Isn’t he twenty-six years old? How does he fix things?
You began to pull away, around eleventh and twelfth grade. It became easier for you to say that you were busy with something, and Peter was not the type to really push you back then. You started ignoring his calls- and his pestering about whether or not you wanted to go get pizza, like you usually always did on Saturdays. Did you even still like Neapolitan style pizza?
The last time he really remembered that you had a good time with him was the last trip to Florence- in the summer break at the end of twelfth grade- and after that, Logan no longer received the benefits for the trip, and you two were both on your way to university, anyways.
Peter sighs. He went to Empire State- and you, NYU. And that was where you guys began to drift quite quickly. People get busy, of course, and university took up everyone’s time. He just never thought you would let go of him like that. He misses you, a lot, to the point where he’s had dreams in which you’re just around him again, smiling.
Peter doesn’t know if he’ll get over this.
He throws the tennis ball again. It lands in his laundry bin, in front of the window, and when he goes up to get it- he can see you across from him, through your room window, wildly gesticulating to someone on your phone.
Peter bites his lip, and then snickers to himself. It’s always funny to see you get pissed- you get the same enraged look in your eyes that Logan gets, too- and you run your hands through your hair a lot, making you look kind of like a banshee.
He thinks on what you could be talking about. But Peter has never been a lip reader- so he decides to lie back down on his bed and give you some privacy.
/
“I don’t think he likes me. I would’ve known by now if he really, truly did, MJ.” You groan in exasperation, but the redhead on your phone screen is barely listening.
“Babe. Listen to me- that boy just doesn’t know what he wants. He barely knows how to exist- you think he would be able to figure out that he likes you?” She laughs, her long nails tapping at the screen as she types a message to the catering service she was telling you about.
“But… he just sees me as his best friend.” You sigh, and then shake your head, feeling rustled. “Maybe sometimes that’s all it has to be? Not everything male-and-female needs to become a relationship… I should just be happy being his friend.”
“Okay. As long as you’re actually happy with that, Lettie.” She gives you a knowing look. “I’m sorry, by the way. I didn’t know Harry picked him as his best man- he told me it was going to be some tech dude, but I guess he changed his mind.”
“It’s fine. Not everything needs to accommodate me.” You shake it off. “Where are you right now, anyways? Looks very sci-fi, neon lights, hologrammy?”
“Ah.” MJ switches to the back camera and shows off some fashion show, and based on the French writing on the signs behind you, it’s definitely in Paris somewhere. “You know. Model rehearsal stuff.”
“I really don’t.” You snort, pulling back a strand of your hair. “I live a very non glamorous life, you know.”
“Well, soon you won’t be!” MJ turns the camera back to herself, and someone out of your view is calling “Mary Jane, Mary Jane-”. She motions to them, that she’s on break.
“You’re gonna have the time of your life at the wedding. I promise. We’ll do all those things we’ve been saying we’d do since… five years ago.” MJ laughs as you giggle yourself. Adulthood is a pain. You plan to see your friends and only really manage to do it once a year.
“Okay, fine. I guess I’ll drink like crazy, and dance half-naked at a club.” You roll your eyes, and MJ nods eagerly.
“That’s my girl!” MJ claps her hands. “Okay, listen. This fashion show will be done by this Saturday- I can take a redeye flight and make it there by Sunday morning. Then we can go bridesmaid dress shop- oh!”
MJ gasps loudly, and you start for a moment, before remembering she’s just… like that.
“Are you still going to be my maid of honour?” She looks at you with those big, green-blue doe eyes, and you really cannot say no to her. You already wanted to be her maid of honour, anyways.
“Yeah. Duh.” You sniff, as if you’re upset she would even ask the question. “It’s gotta be me.”
“I know, right?” MJ beams. “Okay. So we have an appointment at the boutique at 2 PM- I’ll send you the address, okay? I’ll try to meet you at your place first and we can go together! I’ve already gone with the others.”
“Alright.” You agree with her. “Who else are your bridesmaids?”
“Betty, my sister, and Gwen.” MJ thinks it over, and then nods. “Yup. I know what you’re thinking: ‘no models?’”
“Guilty.”
“I did ask my close model friends, but truth be told: models are competitive as hell, and everyone wants to book more shows.” MJ sighs, defeat overcoming her. “I don’t blame them, they’d rather just not have bridesmaid duties taking up their time, I guess.”
“MJ…” You frown.
“No, no, it’s fine.” She puts on the same bright cheery smile, but her eyes still look sad, and you can tell she’s faking it a little. “I only want my closest friends by my side, anyways. I’m still inviting some, uh, influential people- Kitty Pryde, Elektra, Wanda Maximoff, Bucky Barnes, Natalia Romanov- you know, just the typical gang.”
You don’t know, but you just nod. You’re sure these models are all super hot- super gorgeous- and the idea of being a maid of honour in front of them kind of has your stomach turning. You wonder if you could lose some weight before the wedding, or if that’s a toxic thought to have.
MJ herself is stunning- but you’re sure she has a really intense diet and exercise regimen that she follows. Her body has always been toned and perfect- you, on the other hand, are a total homebody who doesn’t try very hard. You’re not sure how great you’ll look next to her.
You’ve always been just a tiny bit jealous. Even though you know it’s not her fault, it’s just the way the situation happens to be. She’s always been pretty- and you know that’s not all the value is to a person- but MJ is also a sweet, kind girl.
The feeling of being inadequate romantically comes to you again. Maybe you’re just not marriage material like MJ so clearly is.
MJ suddenly looks up towards something you can’t see, and nods at someone. “I gotta go. I’ll text you later?”
“Yeah, of course.” You state, and MJ hangs up before you can say bye.
/
Bridesmaid dress shopping goes okay.
MJ hugs you tightly when you see her- and it’s enough that you forget about some of your prior insecurities. She squeezes your face, and you smile up at her, glad that she still feels as loving as ever.
Even Logan gives her a smile and a “congrats” when he sees her. Then, it’s off to the boutique.
MJ has you try on several silk dresses, all in a gorgeous forest green colour, and she’s equally ecstatic for every single one you try. It’s a little embarrassing- is she just cheering you on because she’s your friend?- but the designer she invited agrees that you look awesome in everything.
You’re a little shy, and unsure of how to say thanks. You have never thought you were all that- just the plain girl next door, honestly.
In the end, you pick a sweetheart neckline, the bodice and torso are fitted down to your thighs, then flaring out in a loose mermaid style skirt with lace detailing. It’s very pretty- and MJ picks up the bill, before you can even say a thing about paying for it yourself.
“Thank you, Kurt!” She blows a kiss at him- he’s going to send it to the place you’re staying at in Florence for you.
“I’m really not used to all this… excessive stuff.” You snort as MJ leads you out of the boutique, on your way to some sandwich place for lunch.
“Well, get used to it. Har is literally doing the most-” She raises her hands super high so you get a sense of what she means. “And even if it rests poorly on your conscience, I told him whatever we spend on the wedding, we’ll spend twice as much on donations, charity and philanthropy.”
You raise your eyebrows. “Damn, MJ! That’s a lot of money. You guys must be loaded.”
She shrugs. “I got into investing when I first made my big bucks modelling, and Harry is… well, you know. An Osborn and all that.”
“So is the wedding spending an excuse to donate as much as possible?” You sit down at the outer patio of the cafe, and MJ lifts up her sunglasses on to her head, her long red hair wafting away in the sunshine.
She gives you a knowing look, with her classic wine-colour stained lips coming into a large, wide smile. “You got it.”
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