Chapter 135: Holiday Special

Snow was falling as I walked briskly along in my coat.

My footsteps tapped out a faint rhythm, echoing in the dry, cold air.

The plastic bag I carried rustled as it swayed.

Here I am in New York, Queens.
It’s early morning, in the middle of winter.

My destination… yes, that rundown apartment.

Among the small row of mailboxes on the first floor, I peek at the one with the name “Peter Parker” written on it.

With practiced ease, I open the combination lock and collect the letters.
Tucking them under my arm, I head upstairs.

I walk down the slightly worn corridor.

…Looks like there are more empty rooms now.
Both apartments next to the one I’m heading to are vacant.

A deep breath.
I steady my breath and my throat, then ring the bell.

After a short, very short wait… clack, the door opens.

"Good morning, Michelle."

"Mm, morning."

There stood my boyfriend, Peter.
Without hesitation, he lets me in from the cold, and I take off my coat.

"I’ll take that."

"Thanks… mind if I put this in the fridge?"

"Of course."

I hand Peter my coat and carry the plastic bag over to the refrigerator.
Then, I open the bag.

Carrots, potatoes, onions… and more.
I sort through them, putting the drinks and such into the fridge.

"Alright, I’ll borrow your kitchen."

"Sure. Anything I can do to help?"

I set the vegetables down under the kitchen counter and tie on an apron.
…Time to start preparing dinner.

I had planned to do everything myself, but he’s right… Peter would want to help.

He’s the kind of person who wants to be useful… a softhearted guy.

I hand him a carrot and a peeler.

"Mm… in that case, could you peel these? Please?"

"Of course, leave it to me."

While Peter works on peeling, I start slicing up the peeled potatoes.
Knives… blades are what I’m good at.

With movements almost like a performance, I process the potatoes, then move on to the onions.

I cut up the meat I’d defrosted in advance—

"Michelle, I’m done… whoa."

"Thanks. Just leave them there."

"Uh, sure… did you already finish everything else?"

"Pretty much."

Peter blinked in surprise.
While he was peeling carrots, I had finished everything else.

Well, my handling is efficient… but that doesn’t mean I’m good at cooking.
The only thing I’m skilled with is knives.

I’ve spent most of my life handling them, so of course.

I coat the pot with a thin layer of oil and drop in the chopped vegetables.

Peter peers in at what I’m doing.
Our eyes meet the next instant.

"…Sorry, am I just getting in the way?"

"It’s fine. It’s fun doing things together."

Side by side, I occasionally direct Peter as we continue.

Water into the pot, skimming off the foam.
Beef goes in, simmering further.
A canned tomato mix from the store.

While it simmers, I prepare another dish.
I cut up the chicken, seasoning it with salt, pepper, and consommé.
With Peter helping with various things, I leave it ready to be grilled later.

By then, the pot has thickened nicely.
I taste a little, add a splash of water, then put the lid on.

"…Alright. This should be fine for now."

I put the seasoned chicken back in the fridge and take off my apron.
Grabbing a bottle of mineral water from the fridge, I drink as I sit down on a chair.

"Michelle, let’s take a short break."

"Mm… let’s."

I move to the sofa and relax.
When I turn on the TV… jingles play.

Today’s a bit of a special day. A holiday.
December 24th, Christmas Eve.

That’s why dinner tonight is special.
After finishing preparations, we planned to go out.

By the way, I was the one who suggested the dinner.
All year, I’d been honing my cooking skills.

I wanted to show the results to Peter.
…And also, I wanted to spend a little time as a proper couple, without worrying about anyone else’s eyes.

I lean against Peter while watching the Christmas special.
Even though it must be bothersome, he doesn’t complain once.
That makes me feel rather pleased.

Flipping the channel… The Daily Bugle is the same as always.
Well, no, J. Jonah Jameson is dressed as Santa.
But the news is the same as ever—
yelling angrily about a certain masked hero.

…Well, Peter probably doesn’t want to see that.
Pretending not to notice, I switch the channel.

After a little while, I glance at the clock.
The short hand points to eleven.

I shift my eyes to Peter.
Since my head is resting on his shoulder, I naturally end up looking up at him.

"…Should we head out soon?"

"Hm? Yeah, let’s go."

I put the pot into the fridge and slip on my coat.
Peter bundles up too, and we head out together.

…I’ve got on a coat, scarf, and gloves.

Honestly, I don’t need winter gear to survive—
I won’t die, even as a superhuman.
But still… cold is cold.

Peter and I walk down the hallway, glancing at the view outside.

Tiny, powder-like snowflakes drift slowly down from the sky.

"Oh, it was snowing? No wonder it felt cold… Michelle, were you alright this morning?"

"Mm, totally fine. It wasn’t coming down much then."

"That’s good, I’m glad."

Peter’s cheeks flushed as he smiled.
Whether from embarrassment, or the cold.
Probably both.

My heart skips a little at the sight, and I pull off one glove.
I tuck it into my pocket… but in this freezing weather, is there really any point in taking off just one?
Only one.

The answer: yes.

…Though, whether he notices or not is another matter—

Peter takes my hand.
The ungloved one.

His hand is warm and a bit rough, larger than mine, wrapping around it.

When I glance at him, he looks away slightly.

"…Peter."

"W-what is it?"

"You’ve learned how to understand a girl’s heart."

"Eh, really? You think so?"

I say it honestly, from the heart.
Back then, Gwen used to get angry with him.
But now, Peter’s ability to escort someone is impressive.

Because I trained him.
…Heh, I can’t help but feel proud.

"Fufun."

"…What’s up, Michelle?"

Oops, looks like my smug little snort slipped out.

"Nothing."

"…R-right, okay."

"That’s all."

Hand in hand, the two of us fooling around, we headed down the stairs.

Then, we strolled through the streets of New York.
The tiny snowflakes melted the instant they touched the ground, leaving nothing behind.

Even so, the city seemed a little whiter.
A White Christmas, as they call it.

…It seemed like there were more people out and about than usual.
Probably because it was the holidays.

Peter chatted idly with me.

"I wonder what everyone else is up to today… Michelle, do you know?"

"Harry’s at Oscorp’s Christmas party. But since he has to look after Gwen… or rather, Gwen barged in and now they’re going together."

"Huh… But, um… those two, are they dating…?"

"…Mm, it’s kind of a weird distance. They should just go out already."

"…Y-yeah, you’re right?"

"Hm? Why are you making that face, Peter?"

"W-well… I guess it doesn’t feel like someone else’s problem, you know?"

"You’re silly. You’re already dating me."

"…You might not remember, but it took a lot of twists and turns to get here."

I tilted my head.
Our small talk continued.

Peter chuckled wryly, then changed the subject.

"Then, what about Ned?"

"Mm. He hasn’t said anything. But Gwen was speculating."

"Speculating?"

"That Ned’s got a girlfriend now~"

"Huh? Really? Or is Gwen just making stuff up again?"

"…Mm. That’s why I only half believe it."

"Yeah, same… I mean, Ned doesn’t exactly have much chance to meet girls these days, and—"

"A dating app?"

"No way, not that."

"But one of my lawyer friends was trying to find a partner on a dating app."

"…There’s really a lawyer like that…?"

Our topic bounced around until we wandered into a café.
It’s one we often go to on dates, but today there was a plastic Christmas tree on display.

We had lunch together, then stepped back outside.
The hot cocoa I ordered was really delicious.

Peter paid.
I was going to, but he pointed out that I was already covering the dinner prep and cost tonight.
So, I let him.

Still, he’s a college student, and I’m a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent—a working adult.
Making him, a student, treat me felt kind of shameful.
I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty.

"…Tch."

Clenching my fist lightly, I walked out of the café.

"…What’s wrong, Michelle?"

"Nothing."

Lunchtime was over.
Now began our stroll time.

"Ah, snow’s landing on your shoulder, you’re all white there."

"Huh? …You’re right. A White Christmas sounds nice, but… snow can be annoying."

I brushed the snow from my shoulder, and Peter chuckled.

"That’s true… but I think I kind of like snow."

"Why?"

"Why, huh… I don’t know, it just feels special, you know?"

Maybe this wasn’t stroll time, but chatter time.

"Then what about rain, Peter?"

"Rain… I don’t like. Don’t have many good memories with it."

"I see."

Meaningless talk.
But for me, it was fun.

We passed a street performer dressed as Santa, then continued along Main Street.

We waited briefly at a bus stop, then hopped on one of the holiday-special buses running through New York.

Peter gave me the window seat, so I watched the city all dressed up for Christmas.

The light turned red, and the bus stopped.

Looking down, I saw a couple walking with their child.
In the child’s hand was a hero toy… a hard plushie of Iron Man.

The child’s eyes met mine.
I gave a little wave from inside the bus, and the kid waved back.

Leaving Queens behind, we arrived in Manhattan.

When we got off, the hustle and bustle hit immediately.

It was still New York City, but Manhattan had a different feel.
The sound of musicals drifted from the theaters.

Peter stretched, exhaling deeply.
His breath came out white in the cold.

"…Wow, feels like it’s been a while since I came here. Manhattan."

"Really?"

"Yeah, last time was… oh, wait, I came three days ago. Sorry, forgot."

"…And, what for?"

When I asked, Peter glanced around and lowered his voice.

"Well, you know how three days ago that building basement suddenly exploded? It was on the news… I went because of that."

"Mm, I see. That kind of thing."

"Yeah, exactly. But you know… it wasn’t as Peter Parker."

In other words—
as Spider-Man.

He helps people all over New York.
Not just Queens—of course he’d show up in Manhattan too.

"…But a basement explosion, S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t get a rescue request. Was it really that serious?"

"Eh, not that serious. Turns out it was an underground black-market auction for rich people. It blew up. There were some injuries, but apparently no one was seriously hurt."

"…Hmm?"

What exactly exploded?
If it was a black-market auction, maybe firearms?
Some kind of ignition triggered explosives?

If that’s the case, then somewhere in New York, there are armed gangs… or maybe terrorists—

"Oops, no good."

I pinched my own cheek, cutting off my thoughts.

"Eh? What’s wrong, Michelle?"

"Even though it’s our day off, I almost started thinking about work."

"Ah… I see. Sorry, I brought up something weird."

"It’s fine. I like how dedicated you are to helping people, Peter."

When I said that, Peter looked embarrassed, his eyes darting around.

"L…like, huh. Well, I like you too, Michelle."

"Mm, I know. Thanks."

I squeezed his hand tighter and lifted it slightly. Maybe because of the contact, Peter blushed again.

We strolled through Manhattan and entered a massive park. This was Central Park.

Christmas decorations lined the paths, enormous trees set up in rows. Even though the sun hadn’t set yet, the lights were already sparkling.

I let out a breath in admiration.

"Beautiful."

"Yeah. I guess it was worth coming here."

"Mm."

We kept walking hand in hand. The Christmas trees dusted lightly with snow looked like pieces of art, with the contrast of white, green, and the glowing lights.

We looked at each one as we passed. Red, green, and gold lights strung across them.

"Hehe…"

"…Something funny?"

"Peter, isn’t this such a stereotypical couple’s date?"

"Ah, yeah. You’re right… it really does feel like that."

"More than usual, right?"

We said such silly things. Talking about being “like” a couple or “seeming” like one… even though Peter and I are already lovers.

Well. At the core, both Peter and I are nerds. Our usual dates are things like practical shopping trips, or visiting museums and galleries. We don’t often go to these classic couple spots.

But today was special. Because today was a special holiday. I… no, we were in high spirits.

"But seeing Michelle actually enjoying this makes me really happy."

"Mm, well… When you suddenly said, 'Let’s go to Central Park for Christmas!' I was pretty surprised though."

"Ugh… so it really wasn’t like me, huh?"

"No, it wasn’t like you. But it wasn’t bad either. So──"

I tugged my scarf down and showed him my mouth. I gave him the smile I’d learned to do well over the past few years.

"Thank you, Peter."

I put my gratitude into words as much as I could. Narrowing my eyes, lifting the corners of my mouth.

"Getting to see so many new things with you like this makes me really happy."

I let go of the scarf and pulled it back up. Peter looked both happy and embarrassed as he gave a small smile.

"Yeah… I enjoy going to different places with you too, Michelle. So really, thank you."

"No, I’m the one who’s grateful."

"No, no, I am──"

"Nope. Absolutely, I’m the one who’s grateful."

It was him who had painted vivid colors onto those days of black and white that had no joyful memories. I wanted to show him all my gratitude──

"…Michelle, maybe we should stop. We’re sounding like a totally lovesick couple."

I blinked. …Ugh. True enough, the old couple sitting on a nearby bench were giving us warm, knowing smiles.

"…Tch, I let the mood carry me away. Central Park… what a fearsome place…"

"Ah—no, I mean… I feel like Michelle’s usually like this anyway…"

"Did you say something?"

"…N-no, nothing at all?"

We walked through Central Park, shoulders pressed together. Watching the brilliant lights, the street performers, the festive crowds.

Two hours passed like that.

Surrounded by shifting scenery, glowing arches, flickering lights──

"Mm… I’m bored."

At last, I let slip the most blunt words.

"Haha… yeah, I guess. Just staring at illuminations does get old…"

It looked like Peter was bored too. But thinking I was enjoying myself, he hadn’t said anything. Saying it out loud turned out fine after all.

Then I pointed toward a crowd.

"Peter, let’s go over there."

"…The skating rink?"

Yes, what I’d pointed to was a skating rink. Central Park had two large ones, and plenty of people were out on the ice.

"If we’re here, I want to try skating. It shows up in movies all the time, after all."

"…Y-yeah. I’ve never skated before though."

"…Scared?"

"A little."

"You stick to the sides of skyscraper windows all the time."

"Haha… that’s totally different, come on."

I tugged on the reluctant Peter and paid at the counter. Renting skates made it a little pricey, but… well, I was covering everything anyway, so it was fine.

Money should be spent on things like this. Experiences are priceless.

Watching Peter clutching the rink’s edge, trembling like a newborn fawn, I thought that to myself.

"Mi-Mi… Michelle… th-this…"

"It’s fine, it’s fine. Look, it’s easy."

I showed him by swaying left and right, then spinning lightly. The blades kicked up a dusting of snow, making it look almost theatrical as I glided.

…Maybe I got a little carried away. A guy from the couple next to us whistled, only to get headlocked by his girlfriend.

When I looked back at Peter, his cheeks were flushed… but he still looked like that newborn fawn.

"Michelle… you wouldn’t happen to have ice skating experience, would you…?"

"Huh? Nope, never really tried it."

"E-eh…?"

It was just my sense of balance. I’d fought close combat in tight spaces, stood on ropes, jumped and spun around on unstable footing. Dancing on ice with bladed shoes wasn’t much of a challenge compared to that.

By that logic, Peter should have good balance too. Once he got used to it, he’d skate just fine.

"Come on, Peter. If you’re about to fall, I’ll catch you."

"O-okay…"

He wobbled away from the rink’s edge, wandering—

"Ah."

At that rate he was going to fall. I immediately slid in front of him and caught him in my arms.

Squish.

…That was Peter’s arm. His elbow had pressed against my chest.

"S-sorry! I didn’t mean to…!"

Peter panicked, but with the unstable footing he couldn’t move away. His body stayed pressed against mine.

It was so awkward it almost made me laugh.

"I know. Don’t worry… I wouldn’t get mad even if it were on purpose."

I pulled his arm and guided him along the ice. Forward, sideways… dragging him across the rink.

"Wa—wait—!"

I spun him around, almost like dancing.

"Hold o—!"

I pivoted him on one foot, sweeping snow away as though we were performing.

"Wait, Michelle!"

"Mm, it’s fine."

And then, when I let go… Peter was standing on the ice by himself.

"…H-huh?"

"Hehe."

Peter had talent. He was always used to standing in cramped places, balancing on narrow spaces. He just hadn’t realized it until I forced him to.

"…So then, Peter. Let’s take it slow, together."

"O-okay…?"

With that confused look on his face, I took his hand and gently pulled him along.

And so, just like that—

We skated together until the sun began to set. By the end, Peter had gotten the hang of it. He wasn’t trembling like he had at first.

We glided around, relaxed and carefree.

Afterward, we returned the rented skates and picked up our things.

"That was fun, Peter."

"Yeah… at first I wasn’t sure how it’d go. You suddenly dragged me out there…"

"Mm, worrier?"

"No, I think that was just being realistic."

"Hehe, someone I respect once said: 'Sometimes you need to run before you can walk.'"

"…And who said that?"

"Iron Man. Tony Stark."

"…Yeah, figures. That sounds exactly like him."

We left Central Park as dusk settled in. The night illuminations shone even more brightly now.

Though honestly… I felt like I’d seen a year’s worth of lights today. The sense of wonder was wearing thin.

I stretched both arms up toward the sky and took a deep breath.

"Mm… still, I’m glad nothing happened today."

"…Y-yeah, true."

"Ah, sorry. I didn’t mean that as a jab, Peter…"

"No, I know… it’s just, you know, I’ve got bad luck? Always getting caught up in—"

Suddenly, an explosion went off behind us. And it was a pretty big one.

""……""

We exchanged silent looks. Both of us wore sour expressions, like we’d just bitten into something bitter.

"…Think it’s an incident?"

"…Yeah, definitely an incident."

I let out a sigh, then switched my focus.

Together, we headed toward the building where the explosion had gone off.

"Peter, what about your suit?"

"Sorry… I’m wearing it underneath."

"…Why are you apologizing?"

"Because… this was supposed to be a date—"

"It’s fine. Heroes don’t get holidays, I know that."

"…Sorry."

Peter pulled a plastic bag from his backpack. Inside were his web-shooters, gloves, and mask.

"I’ll hold onto your stuff."

"Thanks… Michelle, what about you?"

"I didn’t bring my suit, so I’ll help guide people out instead."

Peter strapped the web-shooters to his arms. Obviously, he couldn’t just put the mask on in public—he’d have to slip it on somewhere out of sight.

"…Michelle, I really am sorry."

"You don’t need to keep apologizing."

Step by step, we drew closer to the site. …That explosion was from chemical compounds. The smoke’s color wasn’t the same as a gas line.

No doubt—it was man-made. This was beyond police or rescue work. This was where a hero was needed.

I led Peter into a side alley.

"………"

Glancing at him as he prepared, looking guilty, I finally spoke.

"I’m not good at saying this, but…"

"Huh?"

"I… I fell for you, Peter, because you can’t ignore people in trouble, even now. That part of you… I love it."

"…Michelle."

"Your kindness, and even how you can’t take care of yourself sometimes—it’s all part of the person I love. So, no more apologizing."

"…R-right. Thanks, Michelle."

It was Christmas, and we were in the middle of a date. Watching him run straight into danger—of course I felt lonely.

Even so, I smiled as much as I could. So Peter wouldn’t be weighed down by guilt.

I pressed my hand to his chest, just above the red mask.

"Go on, Peter."

"…Yeah. I’ll be back."

Peter nodded, fired a web overhead, and swung away. I watched his figure grow smaller, then let out a quiet breath.

What I said just now was the truth. And yet… it was also pride. Pride in wanting to be the “understanding girlfriend.”

I must be hopelessly greedy. A little part of me sank into self-loathing.

In the original, Peter’s girlfriend MJ often got stood up because of his Spider-Man duties. It led to fights more than once.

I wasn’t MJ—Mary Jane. I was Michelle Jane. But even so, maybe it was my fate to be swept up in his misfortunes.

I wasn’t arrogant enough to think I could be a better girlfriend. But deep down, somewhere—

"…This isn’t the time for that."

I patted my cheeks lightly. The hand Peter had held earlier still felt faintly warm.

I didn’t have a mask here, but I still had something I could do. With great power comes great responsibility—those words applied to me too.

I turned toward the smoking building, ready to help guide people to safety.