[Third Person's POV]
Peter sat on the edge of the rooftop, high above the sleeping city. The skyscraper stretched so far into the night sky that it felt like he was perched on the edge of the universe. Below him, the city of New York pulsed with light and life, despite the late hour. Cars streamed down avenues in a never-ending flow of motion, their honking horns and hums of engines still audible even at this height.
Beside him, lounging comfortably with one leg crossed over the other, was Felicia. Between them sat a pizza box, acting as both a makeshift table and a divider. Peter had his Spider-Man mask rolled up just above his nose, exposing his mouth and chin as he reached in and grabbed a warm, cheesy slice.
Felicia grinned, cheeks puffed slightly as she chewed. "I stopped a robbery at the pizzeria earlier tonight, and the owner gave me this as a thank-you gift!" she said proudly, swaying side to side as if basking in the glory of her small but noble deed.
Peter chuckled, raising his slice in a mock toast. "Then here's to another crime prevented."
"Herehe, herehe!" Felicia mimicked playfully, lifting her half-eaten slice and clinking it against his like a champagne glass. Their shared laughter echoed faintly across the rooftop, dancing on the night breeze.
Silence fell between them soon after, not an awkward silence but a comfortable one—punctuated only by the soft sounds of chewing and the distant city noises below. Peter casually swung his feet over the edge, savoring the moment. But then Felicia's voice broke through, sharp and sudden.
"So… what's on your mind?"
Peter blinked and nearly choked on his food. "What?" he mumbled, mouth full.
Felicia rolled her eyes, her expression deadpan. "Oh, come on. You think I wouldn't notice? I'm your girlfriend. I know when something's weighing on you. You've got that weird quiet energy. Like you're here physically, but mentally? You're somewhere else entirely."
Peter's mask lenses blinked in confusion. "I'm fine…"
She sighed dramatically, pulling her knees up and resting her elbows on them. "You're really gonna make me explain it, huh? Look, you're not the kind of person who just takes breaks without a reason. You're always doing something—if it's not fighting crime, it's inventing something, or training someone, or going on some mission. It's rare to see you like this. Which tells me you needed to get out of your own head for a bit."
Peter frowned, brushing crumbs off his glove. "I take breaks…"
"Not since summer started, you haven't," Felicia scoffed. "Let's see—you're with Reed and Bruce working on some super-genius science project, like that semi-cure you made for Ben. Then there's you and Harry building gadgets out of vibranium, constantly upgrading your suit. Or helping the Fantastic Four manage their powers, or getting busy with the company"
She raised a finger with every example, ticking them off one by one. Then stuffed the crust of her slice into her mouth, her words now muffled as she continued.
"Plus, you still make time for us—you take each of us out on dates, help your aunt and uncle now that they're expecting, keep an eye on Aria since she got her body, go to your magic lessons, and still patrol the city like clockwork. And you're telling me you're fine?"
Peter looked over with a sheepish smile. "Okay, okay, I get it. I'm busy."
"I wasn't done yet," she said through a mouthful of crust. "I was running out of fingers, but I still had toes left."
Peter snorted and leaned back on his palms. "Fine. You caught me. I had something in my mind"
"Relationships work both ways, you know" Felicia said softly, her voice losing its teasing edge. "You're always there for us when we need to vent. Let us return the favor."
He hesitated, eyes dropping to the glowing streets below. "Alright… I was an accomplice to murder."
Felicia froze, nearly dropping her slice. "Wait—what?! That was not the direction I thought this was going. I figured you were gonna say you're overwhelmed or doubting yourself or something—not murder! What kind of emotional landmine did I just step on?!"
Peter let out a dry laugh. "I said that on purpose—to shock you. It's not as dramatic as it sounds, really. I'm probably overthinking everything. But... here's what happened."
He then began explaining everything—how he was contacted in his office by fury, how the attack unfolded, and the series of events that led to the rescue mission involving Tony. He left no detail out, his voice growing heavier with each word.
"And the thing is," Peter said finally, "I don't condone killing. I never have. But… I didn't stop it either. It happened right in front of me—to someone who deserved it—and I didn't lift a finger. I tell myself I'm different from the people I fight, but sometimes, I do worse. I leave the bad guys to suffer fates even death would be merciful compared to. And I don't feel bad about it. Not really. But then someone actually dies in front of me, and I feel… weird. Guilt, maybe. Or sympathy. I don't even know."
He groaned and ran a hand through his messy hair. "It's so hypocritical and contradictory. One moment I want to be the justice hero, the guy who always finds the better way. The next, I'm thinking like an antihero who takes justice into his own hands and doesn't lose sleep over it. How can I be both? How can I stand on one side and still act like I'm on the other?"
Felicia was quiet for a long moment. Then she sighed.
"Yeah… not gonna lie, I'm probably not the best person to unpack that kind of crisis with," she admitted, scratching the back of her head and grimacing. "Morality's not exactly my strong suit."
Peter gave her a small smile, appreciating the honesty.
"But," she added, leaning closer, "I do know you're a good person. And if you're questioning yourself this hard over all of it… that means your conscience still works just fine."
"You really are asking the wrong person for this," Felicia said, leaning back on her hands, gazing up at the cloudy night sky. "I'm not exactly a paragon of moral integrity who can just hand you the 'right answer' like a fortune cookie. I'm fifty-fifty when it comes to killing your enemies. I mean, I see the pros and cons of both sides, and honestly? In total confidence, if someone really deserved it… I wouldn't feel a shred of guilt for taking them out. Not even a little. I wouldn't lose sleep over it."
She turned to look at him, her expression uncharacteristically serious. "I admire you. You and the others who actually feel something. Maybe there's something broken in me, but the only thing I'd be worried about after something like that is the cleanup. The fallout. That's the only reason I hold back."
She shrugged, her voice growing softer. "So no, I can't really sympathize, because from where I'm standing, I don't see what's got you so worried. Honestly? You're overthinking this. So what if you're being a little hypocritical? Big deal. Look at me—I stopped a robbery at a pizza shop and they gave me a free pie. Wanna know what I'm really thinking?" She smirked. "Not that I hope they're safe and never get robbed again… but that someone hits a steakhouse next."
Peter snorted at that, a laugh catching in his throat. Felicia grinned at the sound, encouraged.
"I mean, I'm supposed to be some kind of hero, right? And yet here I am, low-key rooting for criminals to hit fancier restaurants just so I can snag a free meal. That's textbook hypocrisy. But am I a terrible person for it? No. I'm human. And I'd bet good money that even people not in our shoes contradict themselves every single day. Hell, these words exist for a reason—'hypocrite,' 'contradiction'—they wouldn't if we weren't all doing it. You're not the first to be a hypocrite or contradict yourself and you won't be the last."
She leaned forward again, tapping his chest with her finger. "In my opinion? Only a hypocrite can truly become a great hero. Because it means they understand both sides of the line. They know the cost of both mercy and ruthlessness. Someone who's too rigid, too committed to one side, can never really appreciate the complexities of the other. I know I'm rambling and probably sound like I've been watching too many late-night dramas, but… you get what I'm saying, right?"
She rested her hand gently on his shoulder, then pointed to herself with a proud grin. "And if you're still worried about being a hypocrite, don't be. Because trust me—There won't ever be a bigger hypocrite than me!!"
"…"
A few silent seconds passed, Peter staring at her with a slowly twitching smile as she awkwardly recoiled and cringed at her own words.
"Okay, yeah, that didn't sound nearly as cool out loud as it did in my head," she admitted, scratching her temple. "But seriously, what I meant to say is: be a hypocrite, contradict yourself, whatever. Just stop torturing yourself over it. This isn't some philosophical mountain you have to scale to find inner peace. You're making it heavier than it is."
She gave him a tender smile, one of the few rare genuine ones she reserves only for him. "You're not like me," she said gently. "I'm hypocritical because I'm selfish. I think about what benefits me. But when you contradict yourself, it's not out of selfishness—it's because you care. You're willing to go against everything you believe if it means showing mercy or understanding. You care about people—even those who might not deserve it. And that's what sets you apart. You care for people that don't deserve it but you care even more for people that do. It is why you weren't doing anything when they were being killed, it was out of sympathy, not for the terrorists but for Tony Stark and after what he went through. And that Sympathy is your greatest strength"
By the time she finished, their foreheads were pressed together. She held the back of his head, gently.
Peter smiled and leaned in, kissing her softly on the lips. "I love you, you know that?"
Felicia's cheeks flushed, her usual cocky smirk softening into something warm. "Heh. Looks like I was the right person for the job after all."
"Yeah… I feel better now. Thanks to you," Peter said, closing his eyes, still resting against her.
Felicia puffed her chest playfully. "Man, I've been hanging around you too much. I've got the hero speech locked down now."
"'There won't ever be a bigger hypocrite than me!!'" Peter quoted back mockingly, doing an exaggerated impersonation.
Her face turned a deeper red as she scowled. "Hey! Don't make me charge you for this therapy session. I won't hesitate!"
"I don't mind paying," Peter said, his voice lowering as he smirked. "You take installments? Because I've got a few… creative ways to settle the bill." He kissed her again, gently but with meaning. "So how much do I owe?"
Felicia blinked, then smiled slyly, her voice breathy. "Smooth, tiger. Real smooth. But hmm… I don't know. I do charge a lot, you know."
"With the quality of the service you're providing, I'm fine with starting payments early," he said, before scooping her up onto his lap, making her giggle uncontrollably.
She let herself melt into his arms, returning the kiss with passion, holding his face with both hands, her thumb stroking his cheek. As if she were grounding him. Reassuring him that everything was okay now.
Their last kiss lingered, slow and warm, the taste of pizza still fresh between them. As they parted, a single string of saliva broke between their lips.
"So," Peter said with a sly smile, "do you take tips?"
Felicia burst out laughing, unable to contain herself.
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