The rain pattered softly against our living room window, a gentle drumbeat to a quiet evening in. We were curled together on the couch, a thick, comfortable blanket over our legs, and a large, worn photo album spread open across our laps.“Look at this one,” MJ murmured, her finger tracing the edge of a faded photograph. It was us, years younger, faces smushed together outside a shawarma joint, laughing like fools. My hair was a mess, her vibrant red curls were escaping a beanie. “I think this was after you fought that guy made of bees.”

“Vultures, MJ. Vultures,” I corrected with a laugh, pulling her closer. “Though a bee guy would’ve been weirder.”

We flipped through the pages, a lifetime captured in glossy prints. Our awkward first date at the cheap Italian place. Our wedding day, me in a tux that felt like a costume, her in a stunning white gown, both of us crying happy tears. That time we tried to assemble IKEA furniture and ended up in a laughing fit on the floor.

“We’ve had a good life, Peter Parker,” she said softly, resting her head on my shoulder.

“The best,” I agreed, kissing her hair. “Even with all the… you know. Alien goo and megalomaniacs with octopus arms.”

She tilted her head up, her eyes sparkling with that familiar, mischief-making light. “Speaking of goo…” Her hand slid under my shirt, her fingers cool and gentle on my skin. “This has been a very sweet, very romantic trip down memory lane.”

“It has,” I said, my voice already dropping an octave.

“But I’m feeling a little… nostalgic for something a bit more recent,” she purred, her lips finding mine.

The kiss started soft, a continuation of the sweetness of the moment. But it quickly deepened, fueled by the electricity that always sparked between us. The photo album was gently pushed to the floor as we sank into the couch cushions, a tangle of limbs and shared breath.

Her hands were everywhere, and mine were on her, peeling away soft sleepwear until only the familiar sensation of the symbiote met my touch. It pulsed warmly under my fingers, responsive to her rising desire.

She broke the kiss, her eyes dark with want. “Peter…” she breathed. “Can I… you know. Her? Just for a little bit?”

I knew exactly who she meant. My stomach did a funny flip. “MJ, …