#and since my own scent is successful in relaxing me I can't help but to wish that I could also use it to take care of others better

[omegapheromone]

Sometimes my own scent is so strong I can taste it in the back of my mouth, not in an unpleasant way though because it's actually fairly light and floral-sweet so it just feels like a flower gardern in full bloom on a summer afternoon while you're sitting in the shade and enjoying herbal tea. To me my own scent is comforting and familiar and soothing and it's kind of a shame I can't use it to calm others in the same way it relaxes and eases my mind if that makes sense. Because I wish I could? Just use it to make everyone feel content and less stressed-out if that makes sense.

[mjonesing]

I’ll be waiting for you (when you come home)

Rating: M / Words: 10,678 / AO3 / Series Tags: friends to lovers, found family Warnings: mild sexual content, mild drug use Summary: "What are you talking about?" Michelle continues in that horrible voice that might only be detectable by bats or dogs. "Why would I sleep with Peter?"

Ned barks out a laugh, but when she doesn't respond he turns to look at her again. "Oh come on, don't play dumb, it doesn't suit you." Michelle raises her eyebrows and he laughs again. "Are you trying to say you don't actually - Oh my God. You don't know."

"Know what, Ned?"

Ned's smile fades away and he drops the pizza slice in favour of sitting beside her. He gently pries the blanket from around her face until he can see her clearly, and only when he has her full attention does he say, "You two are unequivocally, disgustingly, idiotically butt-crazy for each other."

"...Butt-crazy."

"That seems to be the adjective I went for and I stand by it." ——— Or; For Michelle, Ned and Peter are her family. She returns after a year of working all over the world with a secret to spill, but there’s another hidden truth about to come to light that could ruin everything - at least, that’s what she thinks. Ned just wants them to get it over with already.

The apartment is dark and empty when Michelle barges in, so she throws her keys and bags to one side of the entryway and goes straight to the kitchen, grabbing several brown bottles from the top shelf of the fridge. She settles into the secondhand sofa with a content sigh, the familiar scent of dust and smoke and mint bodywash easing the tension from her shoulders. Her ten hour flight had been full of too much noise, too much turbulence and not enough sleep, but her inevitable success in London still buzzes in her veins.

There are only two ways to relax in times like these.

And one of those is walking through the door.

Michelle tilts her beer bottle towards Ned in greeting, her feet kicked up on his coffee table as she slouches into the well-worn couch cushions. "'Sup, loser."

"MJ! I thought you weren’t gonna be town for another few days?" Ned dumps his backpack next to her suitcase, bumps her fist with his, and falls into the armchair on her left, snatching her drink to take a swig. She takes it back with an affected growl, nudging an unopened bottle towards him with her foot.

"My meeting got pushed back until Tuesday, figured I'd come see my boys. How's life?"

"Aw, I knew you loved us." Ned presses a palm to his chest and smiles dreamily before responding to her question. "It's good, we got the funding for our project approved today. Thanks again for your help with our power issue."

She waves a hand towards him. "What can I say, doing everyone else's job is my job."

Ned snorts and uncaps his own beer with a hiss. "How's that going? Last time we spoke you were in China, right?"

"And I've since been to Korea, New Zealand and was just in London."

"In a week?"

Michelle shrugs. "Pepper keeps me busy." Ned stares at her and she shifts, discomfort crawling under her skin. "What?"

Her friend doesn't answer right away, just watches her a few seconds longer before a frown creases his brow. "You happy?"

Despite herself, she hesitates, the secret she's been keeping gnawing at her conscience. It lasts only the length of an exhale, but Ned seems to find something in it, because when she nods, he leans forward, like he would when he quizzed her over video calls during her college finals.

"Where's your partner in crime at, anyway?" she asks in an attempt to derail him. Ned's frown deepens but he takes the bait anyway, taking a long gulp of his beer before answering.

"He got held up but he promised to bring back dinner. I should let him know you're here, actually, so he brings you something. I assume you haven't had eaten?" Ned gets up as he speaks, searching out his phone from his bag.

"Only the shit they serve on the plane."

"First class can't be that bad."

Michelle goes to flip him off when Peter Parker stumbles into the apartment, one arm weighed down with Indian takeout, the other with three binders overflowing with papers displaying the eye-catching Stark Industries header. He's got his phone pressed to his ear with his shoulder and is rambling on about something mundane when he catches sight of the middle finger she's inadvertently greeted him with.

"Em!" He blindly thrusts the contents of his arms at Ned - who promptly drops all of it - and whispers a hurried goodbye to his Aunt May as he nearly sprints across the small space to reach her, laughing breathlessly as she bolts out of her seat to escape his arms.

"Peter, if you're going to insist on trying to hug me every time I come over, I will officially cut all ties."

He catches her easily, holding her around the waist with his impressive strength. She struggles for about half a second before letting the hug happen, returning the gesture with a brief press of her forehead to his shoulder, arms trapped at her side. He smells a little sweaty but still inevitably the same as he had a decade ago, when they'd all been sixteen and awkward and trying to navigate their way through the early stages of friendship. Now, Peter doesn't hesitate to tug at the long braid holding her hair back, and she responds by shoving him so he falls dramatically over the arm of couch. He pokes his tongue out at her and she smirks, walking into the kitchen as Ned finishes clearing up the mess Peter had left behind.

"There better be a vegetarian option in this bag, or I'm getting you fired." Michelle fetches three plates because one day she'll teach these boys not to eat like savages. Ned grabs the takeout bag, reclaiming his spot on the armchair with a pleased hum.

"I didn't know you were going to be here!" Peter protests. "Next time give us a little warning!"

Michelle kicks weakly at his legs until he stops hogging all of the space, holding a dish out to Ned until he rolls his eyes and accepts it, piling food on with unmatched enthusiasm. Plucking the bag from Peter's fingertips, she pulls out her favourite paneer and a smug grin threatens to overtake her face.

"He orders it every time," Ned says around a mouthful of poppadum.

"Aw, Petey! I'm touched."

"It's not for you," he says petulantly, making grabby motions at the food.

"If it's not for you, why order it? Ned is lactose intolerant and you hate spinach." Michelle raises an eyebrow at him until he slumps back in his seat, arms crossed with a little huff while Ned laughs at him. Peter's cheeks flush a pleasant pink and she pushes the bag into his chest to avoid looking at it.

"So how was London?" Ned asks, and Michelle begins to regale them with tales of her successful coercion of the British government - she was granted permission for her latest idea to expand the Stark Foundation's reach globally - how her hotel room had been bigger than the boys' apartment and the sharp telling off she had given Pepper for wasting good money on such extravagance, until their bellies are full and Peter has tidied up their mess, falling back into the seat beside her.

Ned wiggles his eyebrows at her. "Did you see Nathan?"

Michelle sighs and opens her third beer, passing it to Peter when he grunts around his mouthful of cauliflower and grabbing herself another. "Nathan has spent the past few months exploring monogamy for the first time, but I did find Jenny in a cute little pub."

Ned's eyes sparkle with excitement, always so keen to live vicariously through her global escapades. "And how was Jenny?"

"Pleasant." Michelle shrugs, eager to get off the topic of her various - ahem - contacts. "The better question is how you and Betty are doing?"

Peter answers despite Ned's forlorn pout speaking volumes. "They're off again."

Michelle stretches an arm out to pat her friend's hand. "That sucks, dude."

"I told him to ask Jo out from accounting who always plays with her hair when he talks to her, but no…"

Ned looks at her pointedly so she punches Peter on the arm, probably hurting herself more than him but he rubs the spot anyway. Turning her attention back to the boy on her left, she curls her legs up and tucks her cold toes under Peter's thigh. "You need to explore your options a bit; see who's out there."

"Yes, we get it, Miss I-Have-Booty-Calls-In-Every-City." Ned pulls at a drawer in the coffee table and pulls out the collectors tin she had gifted him years ago, shaking the contents at them until both Michelle and Peter nod. "I just thought things would be better for us, now she's back in New York."

"Which lasted all of two weeks before they were back to arguing every other night," Peter finishes, pulling himself off the couch and holding his hands out towards her. Michelle lets him pull her up and their hand hold lingers, making his cheeks flush again. He rushes to tug the giant threadbare tartan blanket from the wicker basket on the bottom shelf of the bookcase.

It's the only piece of furniture she owns these days, full to bursting of the hardbacks that she couldn't bring herself to leave anywhere but here, with her best friends who will look after them with almost as much care as she would if she had her own home base. The bottom of the bookcase is taken up by three drawers; two that hold various clothing items she's taken to leaving here, and the bottom a mess of sketchbooks, charcoal and trinkets she's collected since beginning her worldwide travels.

As the trio move to the fire escape she swipes a thick pair of socks and a sketchpad. Michelle settles into the space her boys leave in between them because after all this time, they know just how chilly she gets, even in the late spring evenings. Peter stretches the blanket across their laps and Ned presses the joint between his lips to light it. Michelle watches the smoke curl up into the clear night, eagerly accepting when Ned holds it out to her.

She feels the familiar burn in her lungs as she inhales and leans back against the rough brick exterior behind them, releasing her breath slowly and letting Peter pry the joint from her hands.

"I've missed this," she whispers into the comfortable silence, voice barely carrying over the non-stop bustle of city life. Ned leans his head on her shoulder and she feels him nod. She knows that they catch the real meaning of her words. She's missed them, more so than usual, like there was an empty space in her chest for the past four months that only now feels full again.

Before she'd accepted this job and uprooted her life, Michelle had lived with her boys in an apartment too small for three after they'd all returned from college. Ned and Peter had been snapped up by Stark Industries almost instantly, but Michelle had been a harder sell, memories of what the company had once been still so fresh in her mind. Instead, she had drifted from one place to another, never content with what she found.

It hadn't been until that fateful Christmas Eve, when Peter finally coerced Michelle into attending the Stark holiday party with him, that she'd finally seen when it had become.

Since Tony Stark's death, Pepper Potts had taken his legacy and infused it in everything they did, steadily building upon it until it had become a key source for good in a world that was barely over the effects of the Snap. A glass of champagne with Pepper had morphed into an informal interview and suddenly the first plane ticket was being pressed into her hands. As her calendar quickly filled, the three of them chose to give up the apartment and the boys moved somewhere the two could better afford, an open invitation for her to stay there whenever she was nearby.

For the first time in her life she was truly independent, a heavy amount of trust instilled in her from the get go because, "any friend of Ned and Peter's is worth it all."

Now, as she sits between them and sketches the sliver of New York skyline she can see from their perch, she feels the familiar stirrings of regret.

Hearing them catch her up on even the most minor of events in their lives gives her a green knot in her gut that feels a little like nausea. She pinches the joint from Ned and takes several hits to try to squash the feeling, trying not to frown as they laugh over a 'you had to be there to find it funny' moment.

It's not the first time she's considered what she really left behind since that night in Peter's room last January. It had all seemed worth it a year ago, but now, as her secret looms ever closer to being spilled, she wonders how they'll react.

One of her charcoal strokes goes askew and she huffs loudly, ripping the page out and smashing it down into a ball.

The boys fall into an uneasy quiet.

"You okay, Em?" Peter covers her shaky hands with one of his own, his touch burning against her cold skin.

"Why wouldn't I be?" She closes her eyes and lets her head rest atop Ned's. "I'm with my boys."

***

An hour and a hot shower later, she feels more like herself. Her head feels like it's stuffed with cotton balls and the thrumming under her skin has subsided, and she takes her time to massage lotion over her skin, the boys yelling at whatever videogame they're playing a comforting soundtrack. She dresses herself in an old pair of leggings and a sweatshirt she pinched from the top of the laundry pile, waiting to be folded and put away. The familiar smell of their favourite laundry detergent relaxes her until she realises how dead on her feet she is; she’d only managed three hours of sleep the night before,not nearly enough to contend with the perpetual state of jetlag she lives in.

When she finally enters the living room again, the boys have paused their game to give into a serious case of the munchies. Watching them bicker over the best type of cookie brings a sweet smile to her face. The couch has already been pulled out and made up, with a small mountain of pillows just the way she likes looking particularly inviting.

Michelle clears her throat to get their attention. "You're both wrong. The best type of cookie will always be chocolate chip, end of discussion. And please stop spraying crumbs all over my bed, nerds."

Peter slides the bag of nachos off her bed and into his lap, where he's taken up residence on the floor by the pillow mountain. Ned swipes the remote as he climbs back into the armchair, leaving Michelle plenty of space to stretch out across the Spiderman sheets they had given Peter for his birthday a few years ago. She strokes a hand over the cotton until she finds the small burn. Ned had created it the last time they smoked indoors, thus creating the need for the blanket now reserved for their drug fuelled moments outdoors. Her fond smile returns and when she looks up Peter is watching her thoughtfully.

"What're you looking at, loser?"

"Nothing." Peter shakes his head and glances away, then reaches towards her cheek. His fingertips brush over her skin and make the air leave her lungs in one heavy breath. The blush is back, and she idly wonders if the skin would feel as warm as it looks if she just reached out and -

She blinks. Peter retracts his hand.

"Uh, you had an eyelash."

She blinks again. Peter doesn't look away.

"Are you guys done? Shall I wait to put the movie on until you've finished your moment?" Ned has a sly smirk that she wants to slap away, clearing her throat again as she settles into her pillows and Peter turns his red cheeks towards the screen.

Michelle is unsurprised to see they've chosen Star Wars - the perfect movie to send her off. She falls asleep to the whirring sounds of lightsabers in battle and the gentle whoosh of Peter's breath.

***

Movement stirs her from her sleep the next morning, and she opens her eyes to the sight of Spiderman slipping in the window they had clambered through last night. She can hear Ned's gentle snores coming from the armchair, and when she shifts she realises someone had covered her with a soft blanket. Karen must alert him to the sound because when she glances back to the window, two white eyes are fixed on her, one of his feet still on the fire escape.

"I think swinging while under the influence is still considered illegal," she says, voice thick with sleep, rubbing her dry eyes.

A gloved hand reaches up and reveals Peter, his hair flat from the confines of the mask. In her tired state, the desire to fluff it back up flits across her brain. "Don't tell Ned," he whispers as he soundlessly steps further into the room, "But I metabolise it so quickly that it only affects me for about twenty minutes."

Michelle scrunches her nose is confusion. "So why do you do it?"

He's close enough now that she catches the unmistakable scent of burning building. "Dialling my senses from eleven to ten for even twenty minutes is still twenty minutes of reprieve."

Leaning up on her elbows, she's surprised this has never occurred to her. Considering she'd figured out his web-slinging secret within months of getting to know him, she finds herself embarrassed at her ignorance.

"Oh." Peter offers her an easy smile and continues towards his room. Her foggy brain still processing the realisation, she slips out from the warmth of the blanket and follows him. By the time she gets there, the suit lies in a heap on the floor and Peter has a microfibre towel thrown over his shoulder, hiding most of his chest.

"I didn't know it bothered you that much," she says. She forces her eyes to remain on his face and not on the view of a nearly-naked Peter that she's intruding on.

"It's not that big of a deal." Peter shrugs, crossing his arms. "It was difficult, at first, but I've been living with it for twelve years now."

Michelle twists her hands in the sleeves of the sweatshirt. "Is it all of your senses?"

"Yup. All six."

"I always assumed it was just that… extra sense."

Peter averts his eyes to the lightswitch on the wall beside her. She realises that her position in the doorway is blocking him and she stumbles back a step, but Peter doesn't move, instead choosing to explain to settle her ever curious mind.

"I think that's part of it, yeah. But I'm just more sensitive to things in general. Smells and tastes and, uh, touch."

Her lips part in surprise as something suddenly clicks. "Oh. So, that night…"

"We don't need to talk about that," he says quickly, suddenly very interested in the worn carpet at her feet.

"Sorry," she mutters, still lost in her thoughts. She shakes her head to clear it. Clearly the lack of sleep has loosened her tongue, which she definitely needs to get a handle on. "Sorry, you want to shower and -"

"Do you…" There's something in Peter's gaze as it settles on her again that makes her antsy, like the energy that had vibrated through her on the plane yesterday. "Do you need the bathroom first?"

She frowns. She doesn't think that was the question he'd intended to ask, but he's back to that spot of carpet so she shakes her head and gives him a quick smile, returning to the make-shift bed where her body warmth has quickly cooled. She crawls under the Spiderman sheets and pulls them right up to her chin, reciting the periodic table until she finally succumbs to sleep once more.

***

The next time she wakes up she's alone, a text from Ned informing her they're at work and there's fresh bagels next to her kettle. She startles at the time - nearly two in the afternoon - and makes herself busy preparing a very late breakfast. When it’s done she settles back into her bed with her laptop. She passes an hour quickly, responding to emails and updating her calendar with the rescheduled flight to Japan in two days time. By the time four o'clock rolls around and someone is unlocking the front door, she's forty minutes deep into a video meeting with Pepper. She sees Peter walk into frame behind her, leaning over the back of the sofa with an arm around her shoulders as he grins at the woman who is like family to him.

"Hey, look at this, two of my favourite women," he says, waving at Pepper. The older woman tries to give him an unimpressed look at his interruption, but as with everyone who knows Peter, can't resist returning his smile.

"Hello, Peter. How are you doing?"

"Great now you've let us have Em back for a bit." Michelle watches his eyes sparkle with humour even on the webcam.

"Well don't let me intrude too much on your limited time," Pepper says graciously, delicately brushing her golden hair from her face. "Are you and May still joining us for lunch next weekend?"

"And turn down the excuse to see Happy get flustered around my aunt?" Michelle chuckles at the thought. Peter nudges her with his shoulder. "Of course we'll be there."

"Excellent. Well Michelle, if you can send me your preliminary outline by tonight I should be able to get everything sorted for you in time for your flight." Michelle nods and the call quickly ends. Peter hops over the back of the sofa as she closes down her laptop and checks her phone for notifications. There's a text from Kira that she quickly closes, making a mental note to let her know she'll be in Japan later than scheduled, but Peter's sitting so close he sees it.

"Who's Kira?" he asks with too much nonchalance.

"A friend," she replies airily.

Peter scoffs. "You only have two friends, and they both live at this address."

"I have plenty of friends!"

"Booty calls don't count."

Michelle's jaw snaps shut and Peter huffs out a laugh.

"Aren't you supposed to be at work?" she asks instead, shuffling away from him so she has space to turn her body better. Her feet press against his knee and he pulls them over his lap. Resting her elbow against the back of the sofa, her head against the heel of her hand, she watches him study the dark purple paint on her toes. His hand is still a warm presence on her ankle, thumb running absently over the lump of bone.

"Pepper arranged it so I could get out early most days to do patrol for a few hours. There was an unfortunate incident two months ago that involves me being asleep at my desk, a small fire, and a six million dollar invention being destroyed."

His hand trails lower and he presses his fingers into the tired muscles of her foot, working them in circular motions. Her eyes close at the feeling and he chuckles quietly.

"Is this really how stressed you are?" he mutters. "No wonder you have so many booty calls."

Michelle shoves weakly at his shoulder. "I'm not stressed, I'm jetlagged. And booty calls are great, you should try it sometime."

Peter pushes a little harder into her arch and she fights back the moan working its way up her throat.

"So who's your east coast booty call?"

She sighs, melting at the magic his fingers create until she's resting her cheek on his shoulder. "I don't have one. When I'm here, I spend all my time with you."

Peter's hum vibrates through his chest. "Are you sure you're okay? You're being… Nice."

"I'm always nice," she mumbles into the soft fabric of his shirt. She thinks about what he said this morning, about his heightened senses, and if that makes it difficult to wear certain fabrics. "Aren't you supposed to be patrolling?"

"Yes," he says reluctantly, "but I don't really want to."

She tilts her head up so her chin rests against him, her nose almost brushing his jaw. "How come?"

"Because when you're here, I want to spend all my time with you."

That soft pink flush is back and her fingers itch to sketch him like this, calm and settled and a little bit vulnerable. Her eyes trace the lines of his face like pencil strokes; the sharp cut of his jawbone, the curve of his cheek, the sweep of his nose. From this close she thinks she could count every eyelash and how they reflect in the shine of his eye, and can see the impossible complexities of his dark irises, no longer just brown, but shades of gold and bronze and dark chocolate.

His lips part and she realises he's holding his breath. Without permission, she sees her fingers dance feather soft over the curl of his chin.

The air vibrates with something unspoken. Michelle marvels at the unfamiliar territory they've stumbled into. She's felt this before, just once. The cold winter's night unable to penetrate the warmth between them, his eyes making her feel like someone completely new, no longer just his friend, but something… Different. Something new and exciting. She remembers how he'd touched her and she'd become untethered from reality, so much more than a collection of organs and arteries and tissue.

She'd closed her eyes and flown.

Now she watches him teeter on that knife's edge, a war raging in that incredible mind of his, his hand flexing at her knee, like he's trying to hold himself back, trying to deny himself.

She wants to push his hand higher. She wants to weave their fingers together and feel his pulse race. She wants -

She feels the grinding of his teeth under her touch, and she remembers what came next.

"You should go," she says, her voice cracking as the words rush out of her mouth.

Peter nods stiffly. She can't help but watch him collect himself, and then he's gone, his bedroom door closing the only indication he was ever there.

***

Ned comes home just before eight to see Michelle exiting the bathroom, her hair and body wrapped in fluffy blue towels. He holds up two pizza boxes with an excitable grin.

"I was going to treat you to what I'm sure would be your first home cooked meal of the year, but then I got held up and there's no way I'm trusting Peter to not burn down the entire complex, so I got us pizza instead - with the promise of your absolute favourite tomorrow instead." Ned glances around. "Where is Peter?"

Michelle tries very hard to seem less affected than she actually is. "Uh, I don't know. He left for patrol hours ago, didn't say when he'd be back."

"He's not usually out this long, especially when y-" Ned frowns then rolls his shoulders back. "Oh well, more pizza for us!"

Her smile is tight at best. "I'll get dressed and then be with you."

Ned nods to acknowledge her but he's already staring at his phone, likely calling his roommate for an update. She shuffles to the corner her suitcase is stuffed into, contents spilling out onto the floor. She grabs the first set of clothing she deems comfortable enough and dashes back into the steamy room, not quite quick enough to miss the beginning of Ned's call.

"Dude, where are you? MJ said you'd gone out ages ago but - Wait, what -"

She closes the door and opens her phone to play whatever music will cover any trace of the call. Their moment earlier is still on constant replay through her head, ruining her concentration to the point of having to tell Pepper she needed more time for her outline.

Her chest feels weird and like she's on the brink of a panic attack.

Which… This is exactly why Michelle Jones Does Not Like Feelings.

Because here is the horrible, shoved-down-so-deep-inside-it-was-seemingly-deleted-from-existence truth:

When Michelle was sixteen and didn't know any better - before she discovered the life-altering benefits of true friendship… She had a bit of a crush on Peter Parker.

Before the Snap, she had been suspicious of him. Something about him was… Off, and it was within the realms of her annoyingly inquisitive nature to discover why. So she watched, and she analysed, and she examined, and somewhere along the way her curiosity became interest.

After the Snap, however, life was a hellish landscape that took up a lot of energy. Five years had passed by in an apparent blink of her eye, and there was a lot going on. But when school began for the returning fifty percent a couple of months later, Michelle had walked into a place that was achingly familiar yet completely different. She felt more like a ghost in that moment than any other since her return from the dead.

But no one looked more affected than Peter.

No one could hold a candle to the pain he was so clearly suffering.

Michelle took comfort in returning to her watch over the boy that floated through life. Cataloguing his new behaviours, his nervous ticks and indications of mental anguish, was perhaps the one thing in her life that hadn't changed. And as the weeks ticked by, she came to a very simple conclusion.

The blipped had forgotten.

Peter remembered.

He stared at his hands a lot. He couldn't stomach foods that were red. He tapped his foot a lot, gingerly, like testing the ground beneath him. He perpetually looked like he needed to sleep for at least a week, and he made a swift exit any time Tony Stark was mentioned. He didn't skip classes any more, but was never really present either. The blipped had special group sessions to encourage an open dialogue as they adjusted back, and Peter never said a word, staring at something no one else could see. Any time Mr Harrington had put on his 'helpful' video catch-ups, Peter would stumble out of the room, Ned hot on his heels.

Mr Harrington stopped the videos, after the first few sessions.

They were all relieved, but Peter just watched his hands.

Once Michelle figured out that part of his issue was grieving, she formulated her plan. It was simple, and it was a little bit painful, but she figured it might just be worth it. So one day at lunch, instead of sitting five seats away, she fell into the chair beside him and threw a packet of crackers into the empty space that should house his lunch. The two boys just stared at her as she hid herself in the pages of a book, and when no one moved for several minutes, she nudged the packet closer to him.

"I'm not leaving until they're gone."

After a very awkward period of silence - in which she snuck glances as the two friends wordlessly communicated over this sudden development - Peter gingerly ripped open the gift and nibbled on the edge of a cracker. After a few small bites, she reached into her bag and pulled out the peanut butter smoothie she had noticed he particularly enjoyed pre-Snap.

"Bottom's up," she instructed, leaving the safety of her book to watch him. Peter looked back but it was like he looked through her. She took the opportunity to study the bags under his eyes up close, take in the downward slant of his lips, how his skin seemed almost translucent under the fluorescent lights. He was a shadow of the boy who had stolen her attention all those months ago, but Michelle made a promise in that moment that the universe would not win. The world was a cruel and horrible place that took and took and took, but it would not take Peter.

She would save him. He was too important to let fade away.

The Battle of the Crackers lasted four days. On that last day, a warm Friday afternoon, Peter finished the packet and half the smoothie. He had turned to her when he was done, and she thought he might tell her she could fuck off now. But instead, his eyes were focused on her. He was looking at her. Like he was waiting for… Something.

She had nodded. Instructed him to get some goddamn sleep. And turned back to her book.

The meals developed over the next few weeks until one day she placed a greens-only salad in front of him and he didn't even blink, just settled into eating it. Ned had gaped and mouthed a thank you. She had shrugged and pulled out a sharpie and drawn two dots on Peter's right hand, followed by a curved line. After circling her work, she added eight lines, until a cute little spider sat in the space below his pale knuckles, smiling up at them.

When the salad was finished, Michelle looked up from the artwork she had been scrawling on Ned's wrist, geometric shapes with no real pattern that Ned gasped and marvelled at anyway.

"My mom died, while we were gone," she told them, voice quiet and matter of fact. Ned had hidden his gasp behind his hands and Peter had stared at her like he was suddenly seeing her a human being for the first time. "There was an accident, and she died, and it sucks. She was the only family I had, but she's gone now."

She looked away because she didn't want their pity. Her confession had been purely to reassure Peter that he was not alone - that she understood - but suddenly she wanted to hit rewind, to take back every little word so the two boys she had grown so fond of wouldn't look at her from now on as the little orphan, all alone in the world.

She was about to walk away.

But a hand had clasped her own, and she'd looked at the black ink wrapped around the owner's wrist as he said, "We can be your family now, if you'd like."

A spider smiled up at her from the little pile they made.

And in the end, as those first few hesitant minutes of something new morphed into years side by side, what had begun as a mission to save Peter had instead become something that saved them all. Those two boys really did become her family; with Thanksgivings at the Leed's household and Christmas at the Parker’s; with movie nights and endless study sessions and learning how to be a Friend of Spiderman; with every laugh and tear and drop of blood.

She chose family over her crush. She would choose family every time for those two.

Michelle catches sight of herself in the bathroom and is surprised to see a tear slipping down her cheek.

They'd toed the line once a year ago, and Peter had rejected her.

She had thought she knew better now, but maybe… What if she's ruined everything for a second of weakness?

She leaves the bathroom with a heavy heart and a plagued mind. Ned is settled into his armchair, an open pizza box balancing on the end of her bed, and doesn't say anything as she climbs into the mess of sheets and blanket, her hair still damp and twisting into ringlets around her face. He doesn't say anything when she ignores the pizza in favour of the glass of gin he's prepared for her. He doesn't say anything when she finishes it in three steady gulps, crawling out of her cocoon to pad into the kitchen and collect the open bottle of tequila she'd seen hidden away earlier in the day, when her life was still perfect.

He does say something when she chooses to forgo the glass and take a shot straight from the bottle.

"I've got one best friend telling me he's caught up with a mission for Fury - that is definitely a lie because I heard May in the background - and I've got another best friend who seems to be collapsing in on herself like a dying star." Ned pauses for dramatic effect until Michelle glares at him from her hideaway. "What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Yeah he said that too, but I don't believe either of you. What, did you sleep with him?"

"What?" Michelle squeaks. "No! Why would you even -"

"Ah, so you didn't sleep with him. I see the issue." Ned nods as if the discussion is finished and reaches for another slice of pizza, turning his attention to the TV.

"What are you talking about?" Michelle continues in that horrible voice that might only be detectable by bats or dogs. "Why would I sleep with Peter?"

Ned barks out a laugh, but when she doesn't respond he turns to look at her again. "Oh come on, don't play dumb, it doesn't suit you." Michelle raises her eyebrows and he laughs again. "Are you trying to say you don't actually - Oh my God. You don't know."

"Know what?"

Ned's smile fades away and he drops the pizza slice in favour of sitting beside her. He gently pries the blanket from around her face until he can see her clearly, and only when he has her full attention does he say, "You two are unequivocally, disgustingly, idiotically butt-crazy for each other."

"...Butt-crazy."

"That seems to be the adjective I went for and I stand by it."

Michelle blinks as the declaration settles over her. "By butt-crazy you mean -"

"-I do."

"So I -"

"-yes-"

"And he -"

"-yes."

Michelle holds herself together for all of three seconds before bursting into a fit of laughter. "Yeah, okay. Whatever you need to tell yourself."

Ned sighs, rubbing at his face. "I don't know why you both seem to find this so funny."

That sobers her quickly. "You talked to Peter about this?"

"Yes."

"Recently?"

"On several occasions, but yes, I brought it up yesterday."

Michelle throws her hands into the air, her armour of sheets no longer required. "Well no wonder he was so weird! You made him paranoid! Ugh, finally this all makes sense."

"MJ," Ned says in admonishment. She waves him off.

"Come on, let's pick a movie. I'm starving."

***

She almost forgets about it.

Ned retires to bed with a heavy sigh at midnight, and Michelle unearths her laptop to finish the outline she'd been unable to focus on earlier. It's done in under an hour and sent it to Pepper with a giddy flourish. She checks in online for her flight and replies to any crucial emails, then goes over her presentation for her trip. She chats with Shuri, who she's been working closely with as part of the Foundation's new upcoming initiative. She reads a few chapters of a random book from her shelves, then tries another when it fails to catch her attention. She drags out her favourite sketchpad, the smallest one tucked at the back of her drawer, and finds a loose piece of charcoal to sketch with. Nothing in particular comes to mind so she lets her hand create what it wishes, the side of her hand smudging over her work as marks scatter across the page.

It isn't until the moon is hidden behind the night's clouds, the roar of the city settled into a more timid purr, that she realises what she has drawn.

There's no obvious characteristics yet, no real defining features, but there on the page is the unmistakable image of Peter's face in profile, just like she'd wanted to sketch in the moment she so wishes to forget.

Michelle abruptly closes the book and pushes it away, watching it skitter across the hardwood floor until it slips under her bed.

She stares blankly at the darkness it had disappeared into for a moment before pulling herself up to pick it up, reaching around blindly until her fingers grasp the thick pages. When she retrieves it, the sketchpad has fallen open to a forgotten creation, dated two years ago. Scratched into the page with pencil is a smile, toothy and cheeky and strikingly familiar.

She turns the page. Their old, tiny kitchen is alive with the makings of the only thing he's allowed to cook. Slender hands frozen in time preparing to flip the pancake.

Next page. Bruising mottles one side of the dozing face, but the other half, pressed into her old pillow cases, she would know anywhere.

Beside it, the backs of two boys, lit only by the game they play on the screen.

Next page. A boy hangs upside down from the branches of a tree in the middle of Central Park.

A tangle of hands, young and innocent, the drawing of a happy spider perched on top.

The collar of her denim jacket hiding a smile, a pair of eyes squinting with the force of it.

Tears burn behind her eyes as she stares down at the undeniable proof that she had unwittingly collected for herself.

"Fuck," she whispers. "No, fuck, this can't -"

"Em?"

The book clatters back to the floor as she jumps, a scream ready to rip from her lungs until arms wrap around her and smother the sound with a gloved hand.

"Shh, Em, it's me. Don't wake up Ned, you know how grumpy he gets."

Michelle remains stiff in his grasp but lets the panic at his disruption subside. Peter cautiously lets her go and when she turns around to face him, she instead finds those stupid mechanical eyes that hide him away.

"Peter," she says, too dumbfounded from the revelation still ripping through her to think of anything else to say.

"Hey," he says, voice a little muffled from the fabric stretched across his face. "You okay? I didn't mean to scare you."

"I'm… Yeah."

The eyes narrow at her. "You sure? You must have been pretty deep in thought to not hear me trip over your suitcase."

They both realise at the same time that he's still holding her. He snaps his arms back to his side, forcing his focus somewhere else. "I think you dropped this -"

Michelle snatches the offending object from his grasp before he's even straightened back up. "Thanks."

"Uh, you're welcome." Peter fidgets and she's overcome with the need to know what he's thinking, to see the emotions that are always so etched into his face. If Ned was right about her, could he be right about this? What if they have always been dancing around this; a dance Michelle hadn't even realised she was performing until it was laid bare for her, a decade of memories culminating in this one undeniable fact?

She's unequivocally, disgustingly, idiotically butt-crazy for him.

She steps closer and reaches for the edges of his mask.

She needs to see.

She needs to know.

Peter stays perfectly still, lets her curl up the fabric until his mouth is free. "Em," he exhales, and for the first time she hears the undercurrent of want in the way he says her name. "What are you doing?"

"I want to see you," she whispers.

She eases it over his nose and a second later she sees his dark eyes, their focus torn between her own and her lips. When the mask is completely off, she indulges herself in running her fingers through his flattened curls. His responding touch trembles against her hip, his breath warm against her exposed skin.

Her palm slides down his neck, traces the collar of the suit, before creating a path down his chest.

"Em," he says again, and this time it's desperate.

Has it always been so obvious? She thought she knew every iteration of his smile, the meaning behind every twitch and crinkle of his face. How had she missed the adoration in his eyes, the awed way he watches her? Now she can see it she remembers a thousand moments where she'd overlooked it, so ignorant of what was right in front of her the whole time.

She presses the spider emblem and his suit sags around him. Peter lets it fall so her hand instead lies over his heart, it's beat quick and strong. She delights in the moment of knowing what comes next, confusion still curling his features. It's cute, how he's now so clearly a goner that doesn't realise she's right there with him, and she can't resist teasing him for a few seconds longer.

"I want to feel you," she tells him, and he blindly follows her lead, kicking himself free until he stands before her in just his boxers. His hand on her hip is more sure this time, a finger tip slipping under the hem of her shirt to light a fire against her bare skin.

"Tell me this is real," she whispers, their chests brushing. "Tell me you feel it too."

"Fuck, Em, this better be real or -"

She surges forward the last few inches and then he's kissing her, and she's kissing him, hungry and urgent and electric. His arms wrap around her back and she grips his jaw as though she can somehow ground herself in this moment, biting into the cushion of his bottom lip as he gasps for breath. He presses impossibly closer to her until his hands grip her thighs and wrap her around him, his mouth never straying from hers.

She moans breathlessly as her back hits the nearest wall, her tongue gliding against his. She's consumed by him, his scent a heady mixture of sweat and coconut shampoo, his touch scorching her until she's sure there's nothing left of her but the fire he has created. His hands slide up her ribs and she presses her hips into his. Peter breaks away from her mouth to groan at the sensation, and she jumps at the opportunity to do it again, licking a delicious trail down his neck.

He moans right into her ear and she knows right then this only ends one way.

"Bedroom," she demands as he steals another kiss from her. Peter wraps a strong arm around her waist and carries her with far too much ease, and while in most scenarios she'd insist she could use her own legs thank you very much, right now she's happy to tug at his hair and bite into the skin of his shoulder, pressing her tongue against the mark to soothe the pain as Peter stumbles over his own feet.

"You'll be pissed if I drop you," he mutters as he carries her across the threshold.

"So don't drop me." She brushes her lips across his skin until she finds his pulse point, then sucks until she's sure she's marked her territory.

"Are you really trying to give me hickies?" Peter laughs breathlessly, struggling to close the door as she works her hardest to distract him. "What are you, a horny teenager?"

"I'm definitely horny," she says, and he laughs again, pressing her against the door to finish shutting it. "Besides, they'll be gone in five minutes. Why not have a little fun with it?"

Peter opens his mouth to snap back his retort, but then she finds a particularly sensitive spot on the other side of his neck and he just whines as she grazes her teeth over her new favourite spot.

Peter lets go of her waist in favour of sliding his hands up his shirt and cupping her breasts, his thumbs stroking down her cleavage. She doubles down and tugs his face back to her, licking into his mouth as he swallows the gentle sound that escapes her when he brushes over her nipples.

"All's fair," he quips against her lips, and she's furious that he dare bring Shakespeare into this until he rolls his hips and she feels the hard stroke of his arousal between her legs. He tugs her shirt off and glances at the ball of fabric in his hand. "Is this mine?"

(It is.)

She shrugs. "Is it?"

"I've been looking for this since Christmas." Michelle tries to resume their fun but he dodges her touch. "Do you also have the blue one with the stripes on the sleeves?"

(That's definitely in her suitcase.)

"Maybe."

"And the purple one Ned got me for my birthday?"

(100%.)

"Is this really that important to you?"

"What about the black one with the R2-D2 pocket?"

"Uh - no, actually, I don't have that one."

"But you have the rest of them?"

Michelle huffs and lets her legs drop from around his waist. "Is this really that important right now?"

"Finding out your best friend is a thief is very important." Peter presses a hand into the wood beside her head. "Why?"

"Because they're stupidly soft and therefore great to sleep in," she admits, startled by her lack of filter when he's staring at her like this. "Are you good, now? Can we go back to ruining the friendship?"

It had been a joke, but the flicker of fear that passes over his face sobers her to what is really happening. Before his mind can obsess, she kisses him softly, coaxing him back to her with every caress of her lips. He relaxes into her arms and she ushers him further into the room until the back of his knees hit the edge of his mattress. Confidence seemingly restored, he spins her around so quickly she doesn't know what's happened until he's hovering above her, his pupils blown as he takes in the sight of her, half naked on his expensive sheets. She reaches up to tug him back to her but his quick hands trap them above her head, something heavy settling back over him.

"Em," he starts, his wrecked voice turning her on despite the pause. "I really, really want this, fuck you have no idea how much I want this, but -"

"Don't say but." She wriggles her fingers but he holds her firm, so she wraps her legs back around him. "I know how that brain works, and you don't need to overthink this one. It's so simple that I don't know how it took this long, but it is. It's you and me, Peter. This was inevitable."

"Inevitable," he echoes, a smile dancing at the corner of his lips. "I like that."

She grins. "I like that, too."

There's still a tension in his jaw though, and she wants him to let go so she can ease it away, let him relax into her, but knows this is important to him, that he needs to work the problem until he reaches the inevitable conclusion that had settled in her the moment she realised how she felt about him.

"Talk to me," she begs when he's quiet for too long.

Peter stutters out a breath and she strokes his thigh with her foot to help soothe him.

"When we were sixteen, we all made a promise. We've been a family - through everything - and this, us, is the only thing I've ever felt that threatens that. You're my best friend and I can't lose that, Em. I won't lose you. You mean everything to me and we're at this point of no return that will change everything, and I'm… I'm scared. What if this goes wrong? It could be tomorrow, or next week, maybe in a year or two, but… What if we don't work?"

"Peter," she says with all her heart, "We're still family. No matter what."

"And what if we're moving too fast?" he continues without acknowledging her, "I haven't seen you in four months and suddenly you're here and now you're naked and gorgeous and I've dreamt of this moment over and over and instead of touching you in any of the million ways I've wanted to touch you I'm just here babbling and ruining everything and -"

Michelle forces herself up until she can silence him with a kiss, quick and clunky but it makes him release her all the same, so she presses her lips to him more meaningfully this time, trying to channel everything she can into the soft slide of their skin. When she feels his heartrate steady she lets herself break away, vulnerability swimming in her eyes as she implores with him.

"I've been falling for you for ten years, Peter. Nothing about this feels rushed or wrong; it's perfect, okay? So if you like, we can lie here and fall asleep, or we can lie here and talk, or you can fuck me until we wake up everyone in the goddamn state. As long as I'm with you, I don't care."

Peter presses a sloppy kiss against her cheek. "You're so cheesy when you're horny."

She smiles and cups his cheeks. "Just with you."

"Just with me."

She chuckles at the dopey look on his face. "Apparently my one and only weakness is a guy with very comfortable clothing who moonlights as a neighbourhood superhero."

Peter grins. "We're inevitable."

"If you tell Ned I said that, I'm breaking up with you."

Peter bumps her nose with his own. "Nope, that's impossible. See, we're inevitable."

"That's it. Sex privileges are permanently revoked."

Peter laughs and it sounds like the most beautiful song in the world.

She crosses her legs and arms and glares at him until he muffles his humour in her neck. "You're the worst."

Peter pulls back, the ghost of his smile still on his lips. "Just in case it wasn't obvious, I'm ridiculously in love with you."

"I'm butt-crazy for you too." He quirks an eyebrow at her and she sighs. "It's something Ned said, doesn't matter."

"Ugh, Ned. He's going to be so smug." Peter's face distorts in disgust and she pushes it away from her fondly. When his smile is back, she links her hands behind his neck and sighs contently.

"I love you." Michelle wraps her legs around his waist and pulls him so he's pressed flush against her. Peter kisses her in delight. "Stupidly, against my better judgement -"

"Don't ruin it," he says as he rolls his eyes.

"- Truly horrifying levels of adoration, that kind of in love with you."

Peter groans, pressing his face into her collarbone. "I think you broke me."

"That's fine, I prefer being on top anyway."

***

"That was incredible." Michelle listens to his lungs expand, her body still feeling too much like jelly to attempt leaving the position she had fallen onto him in when her final orgasm has rippled through her. "That was… I can't believe we just did that."

"You have officially ruined all my booty calls."

Peter chuckles. "Do you want to break the news to Kira or should I?"

"Fuck." She rests her chin against his chest to look at him. "For a while there I forgot about the outside world."

"Sorry for popping the bubble," he mutters sincerely. "What are we gonna do?"

"I have to be in on a plane to Japan in twenty four hours, and then I'm going to Wakanda for a week to meet Shuri and work out the final details of our first event, and then there's Germany and Hungary and Brazil -"

"That sounds like a long time."

Michelle sighs, rolling onto the mattress beside him and letting him curl around her, his hand warm on the bare skin of her stomach.

She remembers that night, how he had been the one to hold her close, how he had wiped at her tears and pressed their foreheads together, his touch alone enough to keep her safe from the chill settling over the city as it caressed her skin.

"Are you going to ask me to stay?"

"No."

She remembers how they clung to each other, and Peter had whispered things into her hair that she wasn't ready to hear, and how she'd wanted him then, fierce and desperate to have as much of him as he'd give to her, if only for a night, as if it would somehow stop her from missing him when she left the next day.

"You didn't ask me to stay, that night."

Peter pauses. "Would you have?"

"For you?" Michelle strokes her hand down his back. "I'd do anything for you."

She remembers how the heater had never worked properly in her room, and how she'd pretended that was why she slipped into Peter's room late that night, stepping over the packed boxes and dodging the ones yet to be filled. He'd already been awake, watching her tip toe to the edge of his bed until she'd noticed his gaze.

"Can't sleep?" he'd asked.

"It's too cold," she'd replied. And Peter had let her slip under the sheets and press her cold toes against his ankles, and they'd talked around how when daylight broke, she would be getting on a plane and he would be moving to a new apartment without her. The distance had slowly decreased until she'd yawned and been able to tilt her head to press against his chest. He had pulled her closer, holding her as she cried silently for the life she was giving up.

"I couldn't ask you to give up your dream job. Not then and not now."

She remembers how exhaustion slowly gave way for desire that crackled in the impossible distance between them, how she had wanted to overdose on the way his gentle touch made her want to taste his skin and press him between her thighs.

She remembers how he'd hesitated, how he'd shaken his head and blamed the moment on the high levels of emotion they were all going through.

Her chest aches with how much she loves him, for choosing her over them, for letting her spread her wings and find the good in the world she needed to experience after the pain of her first sixteen years.

"You could come with me," she says, knowing it's not true.

Peter pulls her down for a lingering kiss. "Or we can just wait."

"I won’t be home for months."

"And we've been dealing with that just fine for a year now. Just because we've expanded the list of things we do together doesn't mean it has to change everything. We're still Peter and MJ."

"We can talk all the time."

"We can."

"I can teach you the thrill of phone sex."

Peter grunts. "I should have known you'd love that. You're so bossy."

She laughs, but suddenly stops when she remembers the secret she's been withholding.

"What is it?" he asks, and she hesitates.

"I need to tell you something, but I can't without…" Michelle slips out his arms and leans over the headboard to bang her fist into the wall.

"What are you doing? Mrs Rodriguez is going to kill us!"

"I need Ned here, too!"

Before he can stop her she does it again, over and over until Ned stumbles into the room, bleary eyed and unimpressed.

"Guys, it is 4 in the morning. If there's no immediate threat, why are you waking me up? He straightens. "Oh my God, is someone dying? I just came in with the worst energy -"

"No, Ned, don't be stupid,' she says dismissively, waving the hand not holding the sheet over her chest. She clears her throat and continues, "I just… I have something to tell you and I want you both here. I was going to wait until everything is finalised but you guys are my family, and -"

Ned rubs his eyes and frowns. "MJ, are you naked?"

"Yes, Ned. Would you come over here so I can be all mushy and hold your hand please."

"Why are you naked?" Ned asks in confusion as he walks towards them, perching on the end of the bed. Peter watches him with amusement, whispers a countdown from five until -

Ned suddenly wakes up, glancing between a naked Michelle and the smug smile on Peter's face. "Did you guys sleep together?"

"Yes, but that's not important. I want to tell you -"

"I'm sorry, come again?"

"Later, I'm sure, but -"

"You guys slept together and that's not important?" Michelle grabs his hand and blurts it out, if only to stop his rambling.

"I got a promotion, and I'm moving home!"

Peter's eyes bug as he asks, "Are you serious?", but it's drowned out by Ned saying, "I've been waiting for you guys to stop dicking around for years and that's not - Wait, WHAT?!"

Michelle squeezes their hands, grinning as they stare at her, dumbfounded. "Pepper's really impressed with all my work and wants me to help head up the new initiative when it starts up in the summer. I'm still going to have to travel but I get to be based somewhere - I'm gonna have an office and -"

She's cut off by Ned leaping over to wrap them in a tight hug, sobbing happily. "You're coming home!"

"I'm coming home!" she cries ecstatically.

He jumps back, hands above his head. "Ew, you stink of sex."

"Ned, priorities," Peter admonishes. "Em, I can't believe this! I thought you were doing your dream job? Are you sure about this?"

Ned jumps from the bed. "Are you kidding me? This is the best day of my life! MJ is moving home and you guys finally slept together! We need to celebrate this! You guys get dressed and - please, dear lord shower - I'm gonna get the drinks!"

"You have work in four hours!" Michelle calls as he rushes from the room.

"Pepper can fire me, I don't care." Ned's voice echoes into the room as she hears the clattering of glasses. "She's bringing you home!"

She turns to Peter, her expression one of cautious optimism. "Well I know Ned's happy. What about you?"

Peter leans forward and kisses her, stroking his thumb over her cheek bone. "I'm so happy, Em, really, I just… I don't want you to be compromising your dream for -"

Michelle rolls her eyes. "This has been in the works since just after Christmas, Peter - it has nothing to do with us. And I'll still be doing my dream job, but I'll get to spend more time with you and Ned, and May and the Leeds'; be back with my family again, you know? When I'm away I'm so busy that I don't notice, but every time I come back I realise all the things I'm missing, and I don't want to miss so many of the little things that I start to miss the big things too."

"This is what you want?" he checks, and she nods. "And this, us, is what you want?"

"I thought that was pretty obvious from the love declarations and fantastic sex." She kisses him softly, slowly, heat building between them again as his hands begin to explore, until there's a smash and she pulls away reluctantly, looking towards the bedroom door. "Come on, we have a ton to celebrate."

Peter drops a quick kiss to her lips before dragging himself out of bed and grabbing some clothes, both of them getting dressed quickly. They join Ned in the kitchen, the remains of a wine glass in the dustpan beside him but three more filled with the champagne left over from New Years.

Ned holds up his glass in a toast. "Congratulations on taking your next step in world domination. You deserve everything, and we love you. To MJ!"

"To MJ," Peter repeats, lifting his glass. They all take a sip, the bubbles popping pleasantly on her tongue, and Michelle holds up her glass again.

"I love you both, so much. Thank you for being my family for the past ten years, for your relentless belief in me, and for looking after my things while I flew the nest. I wouldn't be who I am without you, so for as much as this victory is mine, it is also yours. So a toast to me, and my boys!"

"To MJ and her boys!" they cheer, and Ned wraps his arm around her waist in a hug, Peter's fingers tangled with her own.

"You know, there's one big decision left to make," Ned says as they bask in the glow of home.

"How to warn everyone that Em is gonna be their boss?" Peter asks.

"Where I'm gonna live?" she guesses.

"No." Ned looks between them, his brow furrowed in deep thought. "Which side of the alter am I gonna stand on? Am I best man or maid of - Ow! That hurt!"