#spideychelleweek2k19

[you-guys--are-losers]

Spideychelle Week: Day Two!

//Here we go again, folks! So, we’ve made it to day two: Meet the Family! I wasn’t sure what to do about this one, so I sort of decided to do a five + one fic? @spideychelleweek, thanks for the mega-creative prompts! I never would’ve written anything like this on my own.

Okay, if I’m going to be totally honest, this fic ended up meaning a lot more to me than I was expecting it to. I would love to know your guys’ thoughts on it, because somehow it taught me a lot about this pairing that means the world to me.

Summary: Sometimes, family takes a different form than you are expecting… And sometimes, it means all the more for that. 

Characters: Michelle Jones x Peter Parker, May Parker, Ned Leeds, Tony Stark, Happy Hogan, Ben Parker

Word Count: 13,096 (holy HECC this was not supposed to be this long)

Warnings: Angst, liberal amounts of Gen Z humor, awkwardness, trigger warning: death in the family, dead parents, grief

5 times michelle meet speter’s family, and 1 time she already has

i.

The first time that MJ meets May Parker is following the fiasco in D.C., when May is the first adult to the bus and shoves her way through the rest to fold Peter up in her arms.

It’s not that the rest of the parents aren’t concerned. In fact, as MJ leans against the side of the bus, she decides she has never seen a group of people reveal their worry in so many different ways. Ned’s mom and dad immediately usher him into the car, not letting him get a word in edgewise as they explain how worried they were when they heard. Ned’s mother doesn’t release his arm until he asks her to so that he can get in the car. Cindy Moon’s father bursts into tears while clutching onto her stepdad’s arm, causing the girl to appear mortified. Still, Cindy isn’t able to refrain from kissing her fathers on the cheek, and when she walks back to the bus stop with him she is holding their hands. Abe’s parents show up with a thermos of his favorite soup, and they can’t seem to stop looking to make sure he’s really there as they make their way back to the car. Obviously, all of these people really care about their children, and many of them were worried sick.

What makes May Parker different is the way that she clings to Peter Parker like he is her whole world and the way that he holds her in return. Each is all the other has in the world, and they know it without question.

MJ can’t look away, just for a second, as she leans into the metal paneling on the side of the school bus. The cold bites into her back, but MJ is grateful for the distraction from the two of them that gives her a reason to avert her gaze, look straight ahead. Theirs is not a moment meant for her to witness, and that should be enough reason for her to mind her own business.

For a few minutes, that is remarkably easy. MJ fixes her gaze on the darkened school building, marveling over the way it looks like an empty carcass at night, without any students to fill it. Something feels wrong about it existing here, at night, at a time when it serves no purpose. Liminal space.

That’s the space MJ feels like she’s occupying right about now.

“It’s Michelle, right?”

The sound of May Parker’s voice breaks MJ out of her thoughts, causing her head to snap in the direction of May and Peter. The former currently has her arm wrapped around the latter, but her dark eyes seem to pierce into MJ from behind her dark-rimmed glasses. Peter is looking at her, too, and his stupid puppy eyes see much more than MJ wants them to, thank you very much. It’s not like those eyes are the reason her heart is speeding up or anything.

“Um, yeah,” MJ replies, keeping her voice cool, calm.

“She’s on decathlon, too,” Peter explains, offering MJ a sheepish grin as he glances between her and May.

“Were you up there, too?” May asks, her eyes large as they fix on MJ.

MJ glances at Peter, who seems to pick up on her discomfort and offers her an apologetic shrug. Her eyes drift back to May before she answers. “No, I wasn’t.” MJ looks down at the ground, lightly kicking a pebble with the toe of her shoe rather than looking into the earnest eyes of May Parker. “I was actually on the ground when it happened. I talked to Spiderman, though. Before he got everyone down and did a quick tape-and-glue fix on a piece of dubious history.”

“Dubious?” Peter echoes.

“It was built by slaves, Parker,” MJ hums, glancing up at him with a raised eyebrow.

Peter’s own eyebrows leap up in search of his hairline as his eyes widen, and MJ can tell he’s struggling to find something to say. May saves him the trouble, however.

“That must have been hard.” The woman’s words cause MJ to glance back at her, which she immediately regrets. May’s big, dark eyes have the same soulful, searching quality as her nephew’s, and it feels like they are sifting through her as she continues, compassionately. “Being on the ground, while all of your friends were in danger up in the Monument.”

For a minute, something aches in the back of MJ’s throat. Back in the hotel that night, she had had a moment of panic by the elevator, watching everyone pile in again and then go up while she remained behind to take the stairs. For just a minute, she had wanted to shout after them, wanted them to get off and stay on the ground where it was safe. And, as she stood in the stairwell by herself, MJ had needed to fight to keep her breathing steady, to calm her racing heart.

“Um… Yeah,” is all that MJ manages as she stares back at May, and for just a moment, her eyes sting. “Yeah. It was.”

May’s gaze softens, and MJ thinks that Peter’s might, too. May’s gaze travels over the dissipating crowd of parents, then back to MJ. “Do you have a ride home, hon?” she questions, tucking a strand of her long, brown hair behind her ears with swift fingers. “If you need us to, we can swing you by your house. What’s your address?”

“My brother’s on his way, actually,” MJ responds quickly, her gaze dropping to her feet again. Come on, MJ… The two have enough to worry about without her, and she shouldn’t have said anything in the first place. Still, she feels guilty turning May down so abruptly, and she can’t stop herself from saying, “Thanks.”

Across the lot, a battered compact car pulls in, nearly colliding with Flash’s dad’s SUV on the way out. The blaring of horns causes all three of them to turn instinctively to the vehicles, and MJ’s eyes seize upon the small vehicle.

“Judging by the driving, that’s my ride,” MJ hums, standing up straight from where she was leaning on the bus. “But, um… Have a good night.”

MJ turns to walk to the car, but she is not quick enough to hear May’s quiet question to Peter. “Why haven’t I met her before? She seems sweet.”

“I’ve told you about her, she’s the one who won the competition for us,” Peter responds quietly as the pair turns. “Yeah… She’s great.”

“Well, she’s coming over for dinner sometime.”

“May-”

The rest is cut off by the squealing of tires in front of her, then the rolling down of a window. Her brother’s head sticks out, and he extends an arm. “Are you gonna get in?” he snaps, running a hand through his hair and raising an eyebrow.

MJ crosses the front of the car without a word, rolling her eyes. She yanks open the door to the backseat and tosses her bag in, not bothering with care since the crumpled-up dirty clothes will probably cushion the few souvenirs she got, anyway.

MJ has barely plopped into the front seat when her brother floors it, speeding through the school parking lot in his constant race against absolutely no one, in which the prize is a night in a jail cell. “Just keep speeding,” MJ comments, pulling out her phone and unlocking it in a swipe of her finger. “Otherwise, your terrible personality might finally catch up to you.”

“You’re the worst,” her brother grunts, not taking his eyes off the road as he swerves past some poor, unfortunate soul, ignoring the blaring of a horn.

“Yeah, whatever,” MJ remarks serenely, her eyes locked on the cracked screen but not really seeing.

“You’re the worst,” his voice repeats again in her brain. Before the words can sink in, however, another set of voices pipes up in the quiet of MJ’s brain.

“She seems sweet.”

“Yeah, she’s great.”

ii.

There’s a difference between “knowing of” someone and actually meeting them, and MJ becomes intimately acquainted with this difference during an afternoon shop class a month or so after the trip.

It’s coincidental, really; Peter doesn’t show up for class that day, leaving Ned alone in his workstation in front of MJ’s. He doesn’t seem fazed, but though MJ has her own suspicions about Ned’s indifference on the issue, the moment doesn’t lend her the time to explore them.

Instead, the moment offers her something infinitely better: the opportunity to watch Ned Leeds struggle to figure out what Peter was doing on their project and getting more and more frustrated as he goes.

MJ does not take her eyes off of her own project, but she can’t repress the amusement that shoots through her every time she hears a bang of frustration on the countertop in front of her, and every little sigh and mumbled exclamation only increases her mirth. MJ allows it to go on for about fifteen minutes of the class before she finally speaks up.

“Having fun, Leeds?”

Ned glances back at MJ, who is continuing on one of the sketched plans in her notes. He lets out a frustrated breath, then looks down at his work again. “A real blast,” he responds sarcastically, reaching to try a different tool. He’s currently struggling to undo a part of the project, hoping to remove some of the framework Peter did so that he can continue in a way he understands. “Look, I’ve just had a day, okay? I don’t need-”

“Use a 6-point wrench,” MJ interrupts, not looking up. Still, though her pencil is on the paper, she is not sketching anything. “The 12-point you’re using on that bolt is slipping because it’s not the right one, and you’re gonna probably have to use a new bolt. It might be stripped now.”

Ned’s head snaps up to stare at her, and for a moment, MJ can feel his eyes burning into her forehead as he struggles to figure out whether or not MJ is screwing with him. She does not look up. Instead, she continues sketching out the plans for her small, metal sculpture, allowing herself to be soothed by the soft scratching of the pencil in the middle of a storm of banging and hammering.

After a moment of staring, Ned slowly sets down his wrench and picks up the one she suggested after a moment of searching. Surely enough, the bolt is out not thirty seconds later, and MJ does look up this time. It is stripped, and she can’t keep a small, dry grin from sliding onto her lips. “See?”

Ned looks from the screw, to her, to the screw again. After a moment’s hesitation, a sheepish smile does cross his mouth. “Yeah, okay,” he admits. “Not gonna lie, I thought that you were telling me that so I’d, like, smack myself in the face with it or something.”

“Tempting,” MJ admits, raising an eyebrow. “But no. It’s just less fun to watch you struggle without your other half, so I figured the least I could do was help.”

Ned winces slightly at the mention of Peter, glancing over his shoulder as if he is expecting backup behind him. After finding no one, he swallows and turns back to face her. “Um, yeah,” he says slowly. “Peter, uh, wasn’t feeling great today. Said something about headaches. Really bad ones, y’know? He was all… Green and stuff. Kinda like he was gonna barf.”

“Flattering,” MJ hums, turning back to her plans. Still, a little amusement sneaks into her voice as she adds, “Glad I could help.”

For a moment, there is quiet between them. MJ is expecting Ned to go back to work, but the telltale banging of metal tools doesn’t resume. Instead, there is a moment of silence, and it stretches on so long that MJ can’t keep herself from looking up.

When she does, she finds Ned staring at her still in contemplation. MJ arches a brow, tipping her head slightly to the side. “I know I’m attractive, Leeds, but I didn’t expect you to fall for me so fast. If you’re going to announce your undying love for me, I regret to inform you I’m promised to another-”

“You’re smart.” Ned interrupts her with a tone so declarative that, for a moment, MJ isn’t sure what to say.

“I know,” she finally responds, her voice as calm and factual, and there isn’t any pride in it as she tries to figure out his angle. “What’s your point?”

“I need help with this,” Ned replies, gesturing to the metal framework on the table in front of him. “I’m great with coding, but this is not computers. And Peter’s gone, so I don’t have anyone to tell me how to do it.”

“I do love telling people what to do,” MJ agrees, nodding sagely. She glances at her project, then back at him. “But I hardly know what you guys are working on.”

“We’re trying to make an industrial shelving unit for May. It doesn’t need to be perfect, because she’s kind of a more abstract kind of person.” Ned gives her a hopeful look, gesturing to it. “Look, you know what you’re doing. It’s just one day.”

MJ considers the idea for a moment. Her project can probably wait until next week, it’s true. But she’s never done anything like this.   

“I’ll do it,” MJ finally responds, closing her notebook. Ned’s face lights up, but MJ holds up a finger. “But I don’t want to talk. I can’t hear anything over the noise anyway, and it stresses me out when I’m not sure what you’re saying.”

Ned nods quickly. “Deal,” he promises, moving to the other side of the table so that there’s room for her. MJ moves over by him, and she can’t help but be slightly comforted by the ordered chaos of the workstation. There’s Ned’s plan, all in his writing with some scribbled notes in Parker’s untidy scrawl. As her eyes scan the various tools, she can see that Peter has a way he likes things, and it makes sense to her in a strange, instinctive way.

MJ picks up a fresh bolt and the 6-point, offering Ned a quick nod and a little smirk. “Let’s do it,” she decides, beginning to put the bolt back into place. “You can get to work on disassembling that rod across from me. It’ll be more stable if it’s enforced differently.”

After that, they settle into a rhythm. It’s easy, natural, and effortless as the various tools rise and fall, creating clanging and crashing that sounds to MJ like the pounding of a robotic heartbeat. They don’t talk, but there’s no need. After a few minutes, the pair relaxes into a joint pace that MJ loses herself in. She doesn’t need Ned to explain what he’s doing; just one glance at him is enough to understand what his next goal is and to help her work around it. He doesn’t question, doesn’t talk, doesn’t do anything but work with her. Every once in a while, when they make eye contact by accident, MJ makes a face and he mimics it in response, and then MJ goes back to work with a little bit of warmth in her stomach that is comfortable and at ease

It’s easier to understand Ned Leeds than she thought.

The class period flies by, and before MJ knows it, the bell is ringing. They have made great progress on the shelving, but MJ can’t keep away the disappointment as she glances up at Ned. “Well, I guess that’s it,” she mumbles, beginning to put away the wrench. “I’ll see you later, dweeb.”

MJ is about to turn to grab her bag when Ned says, “Wait.” His voice is slightly flustered as MJ turns to face him, her eyes meeting his.

“What?” she asks, glancing at the door. “Look, I have to go.”

“I know,” Ned says hastily. “It’s just…” He pauses, glancing at their work, then her again. “Maybe you could keep helping us. Even when Peter gets back. I mean, we’ve gotten more done today than we have all semester.”

MJ’s lips quirk up at the corners in response to that. “That’s because whenever you and Parker are over here you host your own private nerd conference instead of actually working.” Ned grins then, shrugging.

MJ considers him for one more moment. On the one hand, this is a really bad idea… Her feelings regarding a certain loser with brown, curly hair are complicated and useless, and this will just create more confusion.

On the other hand, her feelings for a tall, whiz-kid hacker with no metalworking abilities are beginning to resemble something like friendship.

“Someone has to keep you dweebs focused,” she finally answers nonchalantly. “I guess I can babysit.”

“Yes!” Ned exclaims, pumping his fist as his face lights up. “Dude, this is gonna be great. You and Peter can do the assembly, and I can focus more on the plan. I had an idea for the top, to give it a little decoration so it fits in with the rest of May’s furniture-”

“You can write it down and bring it to the next dork convention,” MJ replies, turning to gather her things. “But for now, I have to go to Chem.”

“It’s cool, I can walk with you!” Ned replies from behind her.

“Fine. But we’re keeping the shop talk to a minimum. Well, shop class talk.” MJ makes an effort to sound slightly annoyed, but she can’t keep a smile from darting across her lips as she puts the rest of her supplies in her bag.

By the time she turns around to join the tall boy in the nerdy hoodie that says “Paladin” in the NASA logo, MJ has composed her face. Her normal mask of indifference may be plastered on her face, but there is a warmth thrumming in her belly that she is too afraid to identify. Because if she’s wrong… An unrequited desire for friendship would hurt too much.

Still, as she listens to the dork beside her rant with enthusiasm all the way to class, something tells her that her not only is her feeling correct, but that maybe, just maybe, it is returned by Ned Leeds.

iii.

MJ is used to being treated like an adult by now. She’s been working since the second she turned fourteen, and her dad is rarely home, so she mostly has to fend for herself. Her brother occasionally acts as her ride, but that’s about as much help as she gets from her family, and she’s perfectly fine that way. It’s what she’s used to: no special treatment.

So, when someone treats MJ like a kid, it’s hard for her to forget.

Ever since she joined the pair of losers at their station for shop class, she’s found herself growing closer and closer to them and their friendship. It helps that they all have nearly the same schedules, being on the advanced tracks in the same grade. It also helps that, though she doesn’t flaunt it, MJ is perfectly fluent in geek.

Their friendship blossoms in a few months, filled with after-school sandwiches, Friday-night binge marathons, and package after package of sour gummy worms. Soon, she is at Peter’s house almost as much as Ned is, and she’s affectionately referred to by Ned’s parents as “that girl with the t-shirts.”

Sure, at first it’s a little weird… Especially because of the feelings MJ can’t sort out towards Peter Parker. Somehow, being around him is impossibly easy and extremely difficult. He is a total dweeb, and he is conscientious, and he is quirky, and he has puppy eyes that she has to work really, really hard to ignore. But at the same time, she loves the way it feels to be around Ned and Peter, binging Netflix in the living room with way too much sugar. Sure, every once in a while she has to tap out so the two best friends can have a moment, but she doesn’t mind sitting and drawing with some time to herself for a while. And this friendship, the newfound proximity she has with the two biggest nerds she knows… It’s not worth risking over a weird tingling in her stomach. Besides, there’s something else involving Peter Parker that occupies her thoughts the more she gets to know them, and it’s a bit harder to ignore.

It only takes a few more weeks for MJ to be absolutely certain that Peter is Spiderman and Ned is involved. Between the hasty excuses on Ned’s part and the suspicious absences on Peter’s, she is convinced about a month in. This is only further confirmed by the little project she finds by Peter’s chem workstation when she accidentally opens the wrong drawer. Still, MJ doesn’t push it. As far as Peter is concerned, all she knows about is the Stark internship, and that is the way it’s going to stay… For now.

However, being friends with Spiderman makes it hard to completely avoid the more exciting side of Peter’s life, even from the sidelines. There are a lot of canceled hangouts, a lot of abrupt ends to facetimes, and a lot of conversations between Peter and Ned that are quickly hushed when she enters the room. But none of that is a direct interaction with the nighttime vigilante routine of her best friends… At least, not until one afternoon in the summer, when she is spending the day at Ned’s house with him and with Peter.

The morning is spent in the living room, with Firefly playing for their third time through the series. MJ is drawing in her favorite chair, while Peter and Ned share the couch and the coffee table to work on their latest LEGO model. The plan is to stay all afternoon and pop in a pizza for dinner, then go to a movie together later in the evening.

“How’s the drawing coming?” Peter asks lazily, taking his time as he sets a small, flat LEGO that resembles paneling on the model of a hobbit-hole.

“Not well,” MJ replies, not looking up as her pencil scratches the paper. “You two are too relaxed for me to draw you in crisis, so I’m out of my usual genre.”

Ned lets out a soft huff of amusement as he studies the manual. “You could always do something to put us in crisis,” he suggests breezily. “You could smash it, or maybe cancel our tickets to the movie?”

MJ feigns a moment of consideration, looking up her paper for a moment.“Nah, too mundane,” MJ decides, shaking her head slightly. “I need something good, like a sudden onset of a heart attack or a death in the family.”

“You could always go all Lizzie Borden on Ned’s parents,” Peter suggests. “If you’re lucky, that’ll give us a heart attack, too, and you’ll have it made.” Peter glances at Ned, grinning slightly. “You wouldn’t mind, would you?”

Ned appears to mull it over. He comes to a decision quickly, nodding reasonably. “If it’s for a good cause,” he responds likely. “Ah, the things we do for art.”

“You don’t do shit for art, Leeds,” MJ replies.

“I’m hurt. You know that I’m particularly proud of my stick figures.”

There is a ringing of the doorbell, and Ned glances over his shoulder. “Should you get that?” Peter questions, but Ned shakes his head.

“No, my mom will. It’s probably just a delivery or something,” he responds.

“You just don’t want to abandon your nerd project,” MJ remarks serenely from the chair.

“Bilbo needs a place to live, MJ. We can’t just leave him homeless.”

Before MJ can come up with a reply, Ned’s mother peeps her head through the doorway. Her eyes are slightly wide as she gestures to the hall behind her. “Peter, someone is here for you. I think he said he’s your ride.” As soon as she is done, she returns to the kitchen where she was sitting at her desk, working.

“Your ride?” Ned repeats. “Dude, we’re here for like four more hours.”

Peter, however, is focusing on a text that seems to have just come through to his phone. His eyes are wide, and for a moment MJ doesn’t think that he heard his best friend speak at all. After a few seconds of silence, it seems to set in that he’s supposed to respond. Peter’s head snaps up.

“Um– um, yeah. Right. Uh, look, guys, I just got a text from the people at the internship. I’m gonna have to go.” His words are a jumble, tumbling out of his mouth too slowly, then too quickly, then too slowly again.

Ned immediately seems to catch on, offering Peter a brisk nod. MJ can barely keep from rolling her eyes.

Honestly. If these losers really wanted to keep her from figuring it out, Ned would have least feigned a moment of disappointment or confusion.

“Lame,” MJ comments. Peter’s eyebrows shoot up defensively, but MJ doesn’t give him a chance to protest. “Bailing on us for Tony Stark. Really, Parker? It’s not like he’s Bilbo Baggins.”

Once Peter has picked up on the fact that MJ is joking, his whole body relaxes. “I mean, they’re about the same height,” he reasons, furrowing his brow slightly even as he makes his absent comment. When he realizes what he has implied, Peter’s eyes widen. “I never said that. I’ll deny it.”

“Too bad, Parker. Already got it committed to memory.”

“And the government probably got it through your phone,” Ned adds, grinning as well.

MJ glances at the rectangle that is jutting out of Peter’s pocket. “It’s a Stark Industries phone, Parker. I bet he’s nuking your apartment complex right now.”

“Draining your college fund?” Ned suggests.

“Having you charged with slander.”

“Confiscating all of the gummy worms in Delmar’s.”

“Outlawing nerdy graphic t-shirts.”

“Okay, not fair. You know I wear those-” Before Ned can finish protesting, however, there’s someone in the doorway who lets out a cough.

“Hey, kid, get a move on. I’ve been waiting.” The voice is gruff, and it causes Peter, MJ, and Ned all to swivel their heads to face it.

In the doorway stands a man that MJ has never seen before. He is rather shorter than most other men, a little stout, and he wears a crisp suit that elevates his importance as he stands beneath the Leeds’ “Home Sweet Home” sign. Though Ned tries to hide it, MJ can tell that he recognizes the man by the way he sits up a little straighter, realizes the change he has made, and attempts to amend it. Peter, however, fixes the man with a significant look, clearly trying to wish him from the room.

In response, the newcomer arches a single eyebrow, unimpressed. “You’re the one who took your time. Come on, you’re needed.”

“Needed?” MJ queries, turning to look at Peter now. Everyone’s eyes jump from Mr. Tuxedo to her, but she doesn’t seem the least bit unnerved by the sudden attention. “You’re my ride, Parker.”

Peter groans softly, slapping his forehead with his palm. “Right,” he mumbles, shooting her an apologetic look before turning to Ned. “Is there any way your mom can-”

“Dad has the car,” Ned interrupts solemnly, causing Peter to wince.

“It’s fine,” MJ hums serenely, turning to her notebook. “I’ll just teleport.” Still, in her head, she’s running over the logistics. It’s really not Peter’s fault. He couldn’t predict danger in the city, so it’s not an intentional problem on his part. She can probably coerce her brother into picking her up, albeit several hours later than planned, but she’s sure that she can threaten Leeds into letting her stay…

The train of thought is interrupted by the newcomer, who grunts, “I’ll take you home, kid.”

MJ’s gaze jumps to his, and she arches an eyebrow. “Just to clarify,” she drawls, “you want me, an underage girl with the build of a stick bug, to get in the car with you, a grown man I have never seen in my life?”

She’s not trying to be difficult– just sarcastic, really. Her tone betrays that, at least to the two dweebs who know her well. Peter glances between her, then the man, then to her again before he speaks.

“Okay, so this is Happy. He’s… My supervisor, for the internship. He helps to drive me and stuff sometimes. And we both know you took self-defense and have enough pepper spray on your keychain to blind a man.”

“I’m not your chauffeur, kid,” the man points out.

MJ arches an eyebrow now, leaning forward slightly. “Wait. So, you’re driving this loser around for your job, but you’re not a chauffeur?” Her tone is genuinely inquisitive, not provocative.

The man’s eyes dart to her, and for a moment she could swear amusement flickers through them. “It happens every once in a while. But I’m the brains behind this operation. Like he said, I manage. I do most of the hands-on supervision.”

“For Stark?” MJ questions, tipping her head to the side slightly. “You don’t have nearly enough gray hair to be doing that.”

The man straightens up slightly, and MJ thinks he might puff out his chest a little. For a moment, he studies her, then he points at her and turns to Peter. “I like this one,” he decides, waving the finger vaguely in MJ’s direction. “Take notes, kid. It wouldn’t kill you to be a little charming every once in a while.”

Ned nearly chokes as he turns to MJ, eyes wide as saucers. “Charming?” he splutters, causing MJ to smirk slightly.

“Watch it, Leeds,” she remarks. “That hobbit hole looks awfully breakable.”

“You wouldn’t,” Ned says lowly, eyes narrowing.

“Oh, but I would.”

“Okay, we’re done screwing around,” Peter interrupts, glancing at his phone, then Happy again. “MJ, are you cool coming with?”

MJ is the one who studies Happy this time, and she thinks she sees a little bit of warm mirth in his eyes as she does so. “Mm… Alright,” she decides. “I can just walk home if you’re okay dropping me off a few blocks from home.”

“See? Courteous, too,” Happy informs Peter as he turns around. “Get your stuff. Wheels up in two minutes.”

“Wait, on a plane?” Peter blurts.

Happy shoots an exasperated look over his shoulder. “No, kid. It’s just the car.” With that, he’s gone.

MJ has already started gathering her things, and she shoves them all into her bag before she slings it over her shoulder. “Later, Leeds. Stay stupid.” Ned salutes her with his middle finger as she walks into the hallway with Peter on her heels.

MJ walks briskly towards the door, focused on getting in the car. She can tell that Peter, however, is studying her from behind in a way that makes her skin tingle. “A picture lasts longer, Parker,” she points out as she reaches the door, holding it open for him. Chivalry isn’t dead, right?

“Sorry, sorry,” Peter stammers as they walk onto the Leed’s steps. “It’s just…”

For some reason, the vague language Peter uses makes MJ’s heart skip. “Just what?” she presses slowly.

Peter shakes his head behind her, and MJ ignores her pounding heart. “I think he likes you.”

As Peter comes into step with her, MJ touches her palm to her chest over her heart. “Ouch. You don’t have to sound so surprised, Parker. You know I’m a people person.”

Peter snorts softly, shaking his head. “No, no! I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, half-defensively. “It’s just… He doesn’t really get along well with most people.”

MJ offers Peter a slight grin, though it is a bit more muted than it was before. “Well, I guess it’s just my magnetic personality.” Still, though, something in her chest tightens at that thought.

Happy likes her.

MJ isn’t used to being the first choice, isn’t used to being a favorite. And, as much as she adores her close friend (and maybe is attracted to him, not that that’s a thing or anything), she is definitely not used to being preferred over Peter. This doesn’t mean she takes pleasure in it: anyone who wouldn’t pick Peter’s heart of gold and nerdy, earnest sweetness must be crazy. He’s the best person she knows.

And still, a little voice in her head whispers, Happy seems to prefer you to him, at least on a surface level.

It’s this MJ thinks about as she climbs in the car, and once Peter is strapped in next to her, the car starts moving. In order to prevent thinking about the fact that their arms are brushing, MJ takes out her sketchbook and gets to work, letting the scratching of the pencil and the task of proportions, highlights, and shading distract her.

“Alright, kid,” Happy says from the front. “We’ve got a bit of a… Situation at the lab. There’s been an issue with a project if you know what I mean.”

MJ doesn’t have to look at Peter to imagine the expression he is making in his confused silence. Furrowed brow, eyes narrowed slightly, lips pursed… She could sketch it from memory if she needed to.

“Um, which one?” Peter asks slowly. “Can you be a little more specific?”

“It’s the one involving the pyrotechnics. There was an issue with the flammability,” Happy replies smoothly.

Peter is silent again, and a bit of amusement flickers through MJ. “Um…” Peter finally endeavors, “what’s the specific cause, exactly?”

Happy is about to respond when MJ jumps in. “He’s talking about the explosion at the chemical plant on Merrick,” she hums, working on a particularly precise bit of line work. “Your bug skills should come in handy.”

MJ glances up, and she finds Happy fixing Peter with a fierce glare. “Seriously, kid? You told her?”

Peter, beside MJ, is ashen. “I-I didn’t!” he stammers, turning to face her with wide eyes. “I swear, I didn’t!”

“He didn’t,” MJ agrees, shutting her sketchbook placidly and setting it on her lap. “I figured it out in D.C.”

Peter’s eyes bug out now, and MJ wonders if he’s going to burst a vein with how red his face is. “D.C.?” Peter repeats. “That was… MJ, that was months ago!”

“I’m observant,” she explains coolly. “And you suck at secrets, loser. Seriously, be glad that no one in high school cares enough about other peoples’ lives to figure it out.”

For a moment, there is dead silence in the car as Peter stares at MJ, blinking repeatedly. After it’s stretched on for a while, a soft huff of amusement finally leaves Happy.

“Yeah, alright, kid. I like this one.”

At that moment, Happy pulls the car up on Merrick road, making it easy for Peter to hop out. “Make sure you change somewhere they can’t see you. And don’t lose the backpack.”

“I-I won’t,” Peter stammers, though he is still looking at MJ. For a moment, her face heats up. He doesn’t look upset… In fact, he looks impressed. MJ wouldn’t ever admit it, but she likes it when he looks at her that way.

“I’ll see you later, I guess,” he finally says lamely.

“Yeah, yeah,” MJ hums, opening her sketchbook once more. “Don’t get your face melted off, please. I need your notes from the day of Chem I missed.”

“I’ll send them tonight,” Peter finally says. He offers her a grin and MJ relaxes slightly. That’s better.

Peter hops out of the car, and for a moment, both MJ and Happy watch him disappear into the crowd around the building. When he is out of sight, Happy begins driving again, and all is silent except for the scratching of the pencil.

“MJ, right?” Happy finally says, breaking the silence. MJ glances into the rearview mirror to find his eyes fixed on her.

“Yeah,” she says, offering him a nod.

“Where am I gonna drop you?”

MJ glances out the window. “Make a left here,” she instructs.

Happy does so, but he is nearly rear-ended by a hotheaded older man driving behind them who doesn’t want to let him in. After the tense clutching of the wheel and swearing has subsided, ended by a bird subtly flipped out the window in hopes that MJ wouldn’t see, Happy begins to speak.

“So, how do you know the kid?”

“Peter?” MJ asks, and when Happy nods, she considers the question. “Well, I got to know Ned first. And he and Peter are a package, so I got two best friends for the price of one.”

“Best friends,” Happy muses, turning his eyes back to the road.

“You tell them I said that, I tell them that you listen to K-pop when Peter’s not in the car.”

“Point taken,” Happy affirms as he turns. “Where next?”

“Left again,” MJ directs, glancing out the window. “So, you work with Stark?”

“I manage a lot of his projects, yeah,” Happy confirms. “The kid is one of them.”

“Your favorite,” MJ notes.

“What?” he huffs, glancing in the mirror. “Nah, he’s a pain.”

“You like him,” she simply observes. “You two have rapport, even if he annoys you.”

For a moment, Happy is silent. Then, he admits, “He’s a good kid.” More silence. “You tell him I said that about him, I tell him what you said.”

“Deal,” MJ agrees. They lapse into a bit of silence, with MJ directing Happy until the van is in another part of the city. It is significantly dingier, and as the sun lowers, Happy frowns slightly.

“Where do you live?” he questions, casting a glance on an alleyway that is dark and dingy.

“You can drop me here,” MJ replies with a shrug, sensing his wariness. “I can get home on foot from here.”

Happy shakes his head, glancing back at her. “No,” he says firmly. “Where’s your building?”

For a moment, MJ’s face flushes. This is not a part of her life she was planning to share with someone she just met, and she debates not telling him. Finally, she says, “Take a right.” Happy obeys, and for a while they are silent.

“I’m not going to tell them,” Happy finally says. “And I’m not judging you, kiddo. You seem like you have a good head on your shoulders.”

MJ relaxes slightly, though she is careful not to let him see it. “You can stop,” she finally says instead of replying, pointing to a dingy apartment complex on their left. Happy obeys, and the car comes to a halt.

For a moment, the two sit in silence, and something prevents MJ from getting out of the car. She realizes what it is when Happy says, “Bye, kid. You stay safe.”

For a moment, she lingers, and then there is a ripping of paper from her notebook that causes Happy to turn. Rather than replying, MJ shoves a paper in his hands. Happy studies it. On the paper is a likeness of him, the way he appeared when he was gesturing in her direction.

When he turns to face the backseat, there is warmth in his eyes. “Sappy,” he comments, gesturing to the picture.”

“‘Stay safe,’” MJ reminds him in a deepened voice, pointing out that he, too, had shown her a softer side.

Happy rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t seem upset. “Go on. I don’t want any more kids in my car today.”

MJ offers him a smirk, and she obeys, getting up and slamming the door shut. When she turns, though, she doesn’t miss Happy tucking the drawing behind his visor before driving away, leaving her staring after him with a warm tingling in her chest.

iv.

The nature of the friendship changes quickly over the months that follow MJ’s reveal that she knows Peter’s secret.

It’s definitely not a negative change. In fact, MJ loves it, though she keeps this fact to herself. She wouldn’t want the dweeb squad to get big heads… And, more importantly, MJ has always been a little bit wary of scaring them off. Now that they are so deep into the friendship, she has finally been forced to acknowledge the fact that she needs them. She needs them to get through Chem and basically every other class she has with Flash, she needs them to encourage her when she feels like her creative energy has run dry or she is just too tired for the day.

But if she needs them, she has something to lose… So they don’t get to know, then, how important they are to her.

Still, she can’t keep a little enjoyment from seeping through, and it only makes the nerds let her in further. She begins to participate in their midnight escapades, providing a much-needed voice of reason (and often sarcasm) that definitely minimizes the amount of bruises Peter sports as he walks through his day.

She also begins to participate in the various testings of Peter’s ability, some of which actually serve a purpose, such as increasing the damage he does, and others that simply satisfy their curiosity. How long can Peter hang upside down before A) the webbing breaks B) all the blood rushes to his head and forces him to stop, or C) they get too bored to continue? The answer is C, and the time limit is three and a half hours and forty-two seconds. What about webbing? How strong is it, exactly. Answer: Strong enough to hold up at LEAST four cars in the junkyard, and the answer is inconclusive because they couldn’t find a way to attach another car to the strands without creating a new one. It’s not really all that useful, but it’s fun, and MJ is more than happy to geek out with them over it, though she does it much less conspicuously than the other two.

She also, however, becomes witness to more conversations that are unlike any she has had with them before. The name-dropping that occurs is a slight shock at first, especially when names such as T’Challa, Pepper Potts, and Shuri come up. MJ has to make sure they can’t tell that she’s fangirling overhearing the names of her heroes being used so casually.

The most common one, however, is Tony Stark. It’s natural, really– they begin to spend a lot of time in his labs, manufacturing for the suit, so of course he comes up more and more. They rarely see him at first, however. He’s a busy man, and Peter makes sure to bring them to the labs at times when they won’t inconvenience the tycoon. However, they’re bound to run into him sometime, and sure enough, it happens on a day that MJ isn’t expecting it.

On that particular day, MJ is working to see if she can improve the elasticity of the web fluid and see if she can make it a better, more powerful conductor for the taser webs. Peter and Ned were initially working with her, but they got distracted with a little bit of coding in Peter’s suit that could be ordered more efficiently. It was only after they altered it that they realized WHY Stark had put it that way in the first place, so almost immediately after the alteration process, they were forced to undo it and start over.

“You know, you guys could just do yourselves a favor next time and ask,” MJ suggests as she sloshes around some of the newest batch of experimental fluid in a beaker.

“But if we did that,” Peter retorts, not looking up from his computer, “we wouldn’t have all the fun of trying to remember what the heck it looked like in the first place.”

MJ lets out an amused huff. “You didn’t save it?”

“No,” Ned responds, flipping through a few tabs on his laptop. “We thought we were right.”

“Well, when I was little I thought that I would be all grown-up when I was sixteen. Sometimes, you gotta come to terms with the fact that reality is disappointing.”

“Sometimes, you have to come to terms with the fact that your friend is a smartass,” Ned comments, causing MJ to shoot him a sweet smile.

“A smartass whose new web fluid is going to taser you into oblivion.”

“Oh, heckers no,” Ned shoots. “I am not being a test subject.”

“You’re the tallest. It makes the most sense for you to be,” MJ points out.

Ned is debating this in his mind, looking for another possible solution when the doors to the lab whoosh open behind them. Peter and Ned turn in their chairs, but MJ doesn’t bother. Normally, when someone comes through, it is just a shipment of new parts or something of the sort.

This time, though, a voice announces the presence of something different. “Hey, kid, why did I get an alert from Karen that you deleted a chunk of my code?”

MJ recognizes the voice immediately. It’s one she’s heard on TV a million times, the voice that accompanies a third of the ads the hears every day. Sure enough, when MJ swivels around in her chair, she finds herself facing Tony Stark while wearing a pair of safety goggles, gloves, and a smock and coat.

Peter winces, running a hand through his curly hair. “We thought we saw a way we could phrase it,” he says slowly. “Keyword being ‘thought.’”

Peter’s eyes fix on Stark, but MJ is pretty sure her other best friend has gone nonverbal. A little smirk grows on her lips as she looks at Ned, who appears on the verge of passing out.

Stark glances at Ned, and amusement crosses his face, too. However, it is of the fonder sort as he offers Ned a wave. “Hey, kid. Nice to meet you, Underoos has told me a lot about you.”

Peter blanches. “I thought we were done with that name.”

Tony spares Peter a quick glance. “We’re never done with that name,” he corrects, before his eyes find MJ. “Who’s this, your girlfriend?” The question isn’t mocking or accusatory, it’s genuine. MJ’s heart skips a beat, but she is quickly distracted from this by the mortified look on Peter’s face that is both amusing and endearing.

“Nah, I’m his lover,” she corrects, watching Peter’s face carefully in hopes of adding to the embarrassment. “We’ve agreed to keep things strictly physical between us. I don’t do attachment.”

Peter’s face goes even redder then, and MJ’s smirk widens. When she glances back at Stark, however, she finds a grin that nearly matches her own. “You hit the jackpot, kid,” he comments to Peter, causing her friend to shake his head vehemently.

“I-I… Um, no. Nope. No.” MJ tries not to let the emphasis he puts on that sting, even though she knows she set him up for it. “I mean, not that she’s not a catch– MJ, you’re a catch, I never said you weren’t. Not in a creepy way, though, uh-”

“Loser, stop talking,” MJ instructs. “I’m screwing with you.” Still, something does seem to glow in her chest when he says that. So he does think she’s a catch? Now that’s something she can live with.

Stark turns to examine her, and MJ doesn’t shy away. Instead, she meets his gaze evenly as his eyes scan her face, then the work on the table behind her. He approaches, and MJ moves the papers so they’re more visible to him. For a moment, Stark studies them.

“Hmm,” he muses, running a finger down one of her chemical models. “Experimenting with the conductivity?”

“Yeah, for the taser webs,” she replies. “I’m looking for a way to do that without compromising the elasticity. I’d like to improve it if I can.”

Stark is quiet for a moment as he examines the newest batch. “It’s good work,” he decides after a moment, nodding with approval. “If you want, I have a few stations for testing voltage you can use.”

“Thank God,” Ned mumbles, and MJ can’t bite back a grin.

“Thanks,” she says, offering Stark a nod. He looks into her eyes for a moment, and the two are quiet. She is the first to break the silence. “Is it true that you’ve turned your energies toward nuclear disarmament?”

Peter’s eyes widen. “MJ-”

“Yep,” Tony interrupts. “Just came back from a trip where I met with several ambassadors to discuss it.”

“And how are your factories powered?”

“Stark Industries went green several years ago. We work mostly through solar panels now.”

“What are you doing to give back?”

“Scholarships and internships favoring the underprivileged areas of cities nationwide, largely. We have many different programs working on decreasing poverty and increasing opportunities, as well as many global outreaches. We also have an extensive grant program, if you want a place on the list.”

“Thanks, but no. I don’t need it as much as some other people.”

For a moment, the two are silent, sizing each other up. Peter and Ned don’t look away.

Then, Tony nods in approval, breaking into a smile. “She’s out of your league, Pete,” Tony informs Peter as he turns to walk to Ned’s laptop.

MJ feels like she’s passed some sort of test, and the feeling of victory sends her spirits soaring. Ned moves aside and offers the computer to Stark, who has the code repaired in a matter of seconds. “There you go. If you want to focus your energy on something that needs fixing, I have some kinks I’m trying to work through on a stealth suit I’m developing for you, kid. You guys can take a look at that; the laptop’s on my workstation.”

Peter perks up immediately, and his eyes shine. “Really? Thanks, Mr. Stark! We’ll get as much done as we can.”

“I expect solid work from you, Parker,” Tony replies, but the words aren’t strict. Instead, MJ can’t help but feel like she’s watching a father entrust something to a child, not unlike when her dad gave her brother his first watch for his seventeenth birthday. Her brother broke it a week later, but something tells MJ this won’t be the case with Peter.

With that, Stark leaves the lab, leaving them alone to their work. An hour or so later, MJ discovers a few flaws in her formula that were made early on– a rookie mistake caused by MJ plotting ahead as she worked rather than focusing on the task at hand. She is sure that Stark spotted it moments after looking at her formula. Rather than being embarrassed, however, MJ finds pleasure filling her belly as she fixes the mistakes.

He let her find them… He let her learn. He saw through her mistakes and decided that she would be smart enough to learn from them rather than let them hinder her, and that is a greater compliment than handing her the answer on a silver platter ever would be.

Even if it was just for a moment, Tony Stark was her teacher… And something about that lights a fire under her seat as she continues on with more fervor than ever.

v.

“What is it, loser? You realize it’s, like, five-thirty in the morning-”

“MJ?”

As soon as Peter’s voice reaches her from the other end of the phone, she can tell that something is wrong.

His voice doesn’t hold any of the characteristic markers of Sleepy Peter™, which tells MJ that either he got up ridiculously early or he hasn’t slept at all. The tension in his voice, coupled with the slight tremor she perceives, is enough to suggest the latter.

MJ rubs her eyes with one hand, sitting up in bed. She pulls her comforter up to her chest to keep away the early morning chill, pulling the phone closer to her ear. “What is it, Parker?” Her voice is careful but firm as she listens for an answer.

“I just…” Across the phone line, the voice trails off, and something about it causes MJ’s heart to crack. It is exhausted, but not in the way that one gets from lack of sleep. It speaks to a weariness of the soul that makes MJ want to lift the burden causing it. “I need you to be here, please.”

MJ glances across her wall, mind whirring. “Of course,” she says. “But why…” Her eyes come to rest on a calendar, and when she realizes what the date is, goosebumps rise on her arm.

Of course.

“He died about an hour ago, didn’t he?” MJ murmurs carefully, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. “A year ago.”

There is silence from the other end of the line, and MJ knows she is right.

“I’ll be over there in half an hour.”

Before MJ can hang up, however, Peter speaks again. “Wait,” he says, and MJ obeys, not saying a word. Across the line, she can hear him draw in a breath, and then he says something she isn’t expecting. “Can you be at the Museum of the Moving Image in an hour?”

MJ furrows her brow as she stares at her wall. She is quiet for a moment, but when she finally speaks, she says, “I’ll meet you there.”

“Thanks, MJ.” Before she can say anything else, there is a click and the line goes dead.

True to her word, MJ is sitting on the steps of the museum in an hour’s time. Her sketchbook is out and open in her lap, and there is a pencil in her hand, but she can’t seem to get anything down on the paper, no matter how hard she tries. The lines and shading doesn’t come out right, and so after a while, MJ gives up and turns to people watching.

About fifteen minutes after she arrives there, just when she thinks that Peter isn’t going to show, he does.

To preface: MJ does find Peter Parker attractive, as much as she hates to admit it. It isn’t fair, so she tries to squash the feelings, but that only ever seems to make them grow, so she’s done pretending her best friend isn’t eye candy. He’s got the sweetest eyes she’s ever seen, a mess of rather endearing curls, and in general a dynamic, energetic face that is always so sweet, so earnest.

That said, Peter looks like hell.

There are bags under the chocolate irises that she’s so familiar with, and those soulful eyes are devoid of their usual warm energy. Peter’s face is drawn and pale, and there is something sallow in his complexion as MJ takes it in. His whole posture, too, is altered; if MJ was capable of drawing him at the moment, she would sketch him slouching forward, as if there was a heavy load on his shoulders.

“Sorry I’m late,” Peter mumbles as he approaches, stopping short of her. He leaves a little distance between them as he keeps his eyes fixed on the ground, nudging a stray candy wrapper with his foot. “I… I had trouble getting off the subway.”

MJ nods, not making him explain. She understands, and she doesn’t want to push him. Instead, she leans forward and plucks the candy wrapper from the ground, crumpling it and tossing it into a trashcan at the foot of the stairs as she examines him unabashedly.

“I get it,” she hums. “You don’t have to apologize.” MJ glances around them, however, and she pauses to think about her next question before she phrases it. “I’m not complaining about being here, you know I love this place. But why today?”

Peter swallows and finally looks up at her, and the slightly hollow look in her friend’s eyes causes a pang in MJ’s heart. He runs a hand through his limp curls and glances at the building, then back at her.

“He loved it here,” he finally says. “He was a photographer. He used to bring me here, when I was little, and when he died…” A laugh bubbles out of Peter, but it’s empty, hollow, and mirthless. It only widens the tear in MJ’s heart further. “I don’t know if it’s legal, but May and I spread his ashes by the bench we used to sit at.”

MJ glances in the direction Peter points, and she feels as if she is melting as she looks back at Peter. For a moment, he is silent, and then MJ is standing, tucking the book under her arm and sticking her pencil behind her ear.

“Come on, Parker,” she says simply, tugging on his arm and sliding her own through it. Peter stiffens as she begins to walk.

“What?”

“Come on.” MJ doesn’t elaborate, but she begins to lead him in the direction of the bench. For a moment, his whole body tenses and MJ thinks he is going to balk. But he doesn’t. Instead, he steps closer, his arm shaking slightly against her as she leads him to the bench. She is the first to sit, and after a moment, he follows.

At first, they sit in silence, Peter’s arm brushing against her elbow as he struggles to take a deep breath. When he lets it out, an impulse strikes MJ, and she can’t resist it. Her hand reaches for his, enveloping his square, clammy hand in her own long, slender feelings. Her complicated feelings for Peter are the farthest thing from her mind as she laces her fingers with his, giving his hand a comforting squeeze. There is nothing romantic about it– this is pure support, pure empathy for a friend that MJ can’t imagine her life without.

Peter takes a shuddering breath as he looks out over the street, watching the people passing by. MJ follows his gaze, allowing the silence to envelop them until Peter feels the need to speak again.

“I just can’t shake the feeling,” he murmurs breathily, “that he’s gonna fade. They don’t remember him… They never knew him. It’s just me and May now, and if I forget one bit of him, there’s a fifty percent chance it’s gone forever.”

MJ nods, mulling it over for a moment as she watches the people pass. “You’re not wrong,” she admits. Her voice is calm, declarative as she finds herself lightly rubbing a circle with her thumb on the back of his hand, soothing. “But maybe they don’t need to know him for him to be remembered and understood.”

Peter shoots her a questioning glance, and that’s all that she needs to see to know she should forge ahead.

“Maybe they’ll never meet him in person. But he’s responsible for who you are.” Peter’s hand tightens around her own slightly, clinging to it like it is the only thing keeping him from vanishing into a vapor and being lost above the crowd forever. “You are shaped by your memories of him. HIs voice is what taught you to be who you are, what taught you how to be good. His face is the one that showed you who you wanted to be, and it’s what you’re working for whenever you make the right choice, even when it’s hard. Even when it involves running into a burning building in your spandex and scaring us shitless.”

A laugh leaves Peter again, and though it is fractured, this time there is some warmth in it, and Peter gives her hand a squeeze. She raises her eyes to him, and his eyes don’t leave her face as he continues.

“Maybe every time you’re Peter Parker for someone,  you remember him for them. And maybe, by showing them who he was, that’s what keeps him alive. That’s what keeps him here, what carries on his purpose. And I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t sound like a person who’s out of reach forever.”

MJ doesn’t miss the quick droplet of moisture that streaks down Peter’s cheek, even when he brushes it away with his thumb with his spare hand. The hand around MJ’s own is clinging so tightly that it hurts a bit, but not enough for MJ to say anything. Even if her hand was crushed to pieces, she wouldn’t let go for the world right now.

For a minute, neither says anything. They don’t need to; Peter’s hand is telling her everything she needs to know, coupled with the growing warmth in her chest. She doesn’t know what the feeling is, not at first. It’s not a crush, it’s not friendship… It’s something entirely different, something that makes Peter feel like a magnet. She realizes that what she is feeling is pure, simple attachment– sacrificial, pure, and strong, and the easiest thing she’s ever let herself feel.

It washes over MJ so powerfully that for a moment, she feels like it might brim over. Before it can, however, Peter turns and rests his other hand on the bench, running a finger on the wrought iron handle.

“Thank you,” he breathes. “Thank you, MJ. Thank you from both of us.”

… + i.

They don’t talk about the events of that day– not officially, anyway, and not with each other. But something from there on out marks a definitive shift in MJ’s relationships with Peter and his family, which MJ has learned does not just consist of May, but also of Ned, Happy, and Tony.

May keeps up with her promise of having MJ over for dinner, and she finds herself being welcomed at least once a week for dinner, sometimes twice. Ned is there sometimes, and when he is, the shenanigans are increased tenfold. When he’s not, though, it’s not uncomfortable. May seems comfortable with MJ, and MJ, in turn, is surprised how easy it is to be around May. If the conversation lapses, she can always make a request for embarrassing Peter stories. May is always more than happy to indulge MJ, and for this reason, the conversations rarely run dry.

When they do, it isn’t a problem. Though May is a very dynamic personality, MJ recognizes a fellow introvert when she sees one. When things quiet down, May has no issue turning on a movie, which they all watch while MJ alternates between sketching the characters in their awkward moments and providing assistance on whatever LEGO model Peter is working on.

MJ and Ned, too, hang on their own whenever Peter is on a mission. Sitting in the shared anxiety of knowing their best friend is in dangers is not fun, but sharing the burden seems to be a relief for Ned. She can’t imagine what it was like shouldering it alone, so MJ is more than willing to chill in either Ned’s or Peter’s bedroom, working with Ned to help Peter as each searches for ways to distract the other. It becomes almost a competition, which MJ thinks is the best way it could possibly turn out.

Occasionally, they end up in the labs, where Stark has learned to expect them. Happy, though he always grumbles, is often happy to give them a ride, and Stark drops in every once in a while. Sometimes, it’s to work on a project he has going, which MJ and Ned are more than willing to help with as sounding boards for ideas. A few times, MJ or Ned even suggests a possibility Tony hasn’t explored yet. Though he’s portrayed by the media as having a big ego, Stark is more than willing to accept the suggestions and criticism of others, which initially surprises MJ. She learns, though, after some time, that Stark is a very different person individually.

Though she won’t admit it to herself, MJ enjoys it; all of it. She enjoys being a part of something, enjoys being essential, enjoys being the best support she can be and, in turn, being supported. She tries to tell herself it’s for practical reasons: it’s efficient, it is mutually beneficial, it is productive. It has nothing, she tells herself, to do with the warmth in her chest that only increases in frequency the longer she stays with these people.

Nothing, nothing at all.

Still, MJ hasn’t thought about how her biological family could impact this new, makeshift group of people that she has assimilated with. The two worlds aren’t ones that even exist on the same plane in her mind, and she doesn’t realize the oversight– not until it’s too late.

It happens on a night at the end of the summer. She’s not really sure what causes it– did she start the argument with her father or he with her? Either way, her brother takes the other side, and it heats up quickly. It’s a battle of words: her father advances, she parries. He feints one way, then cuts the other with a double-edged accusation, and she’s forced to make a quick concession one way in order to meet his other blow. The dance is dangerous, it’s painful, and it hurts her mind more than anything. Just when she thinks she might have the upper hand, her brother joins in, and then it is two on one. MJ is driven back, back, back, until her back is against the door and before she knows it, she’s turned onto the streets at night.

It’s cold, and MJ’s only wearing a light jacket and a pair of loose, cotton sweats. She’s only wearing her battered old tennis shoes, and the falling rain soaks into them almost immediately. For a moment, MJ stands on her doorstep. She doesn’t need to try the knob to know it’s locked, and the helplessness washes over her in a wave so powerful, her knees feel weak.

She doesn’t know what to do, for a moment. This hasn’t happened in months, and she’s so used to going it alone. But the exhaustion of it all drains the little energy she has, and the cold rain bites to the core as she walks down the steps, no destination in mind.

Her feet carry her on, on, until MJ is on a street corner she doesn’t recognize, in the dark, as the rain pours down around her. MJ doesn’t realize how truly sketchy the part of the city she’s in is until she trips over an uneven square in the sidewalk, snapping out in her thoughts. It’s dark, she’s cold, and she doesn’t have anything on her except her phone in her back pocket.

The cold only begins to affect her then. MJ can’t keep the shivers back anymore, and her cold hair, plastered to her face, refuses to stay out of her eyes for more than twenty seconds at most. Each step is getting heavier, too. It is then that MJ fishes her phone out of her soggy sweats, and MJ doesn’t realize what number she’s dialed until it’s already ringing.

“MJ!” Peter greets. She can hear May’s voice in the background, and Ned’s, and immediately she regrets calling. They’re doing something, they’re together, and they’re having a good night. They don’t need her problems at the moment. “What’s up?”

“Uh, hey, dweeb,” MJ replies. Though she tries, she can’t keep a strained note out of her voice. “You know what? Nevermind. I forgot why I called.”

Before she can hang up, though, Peter says, “Wait.” For some reason, as soon as he says it, MJ is practically forced to obey. She can’t hang up the phone, can’t say anything, can barely keep the lump in her throat from choking her. “What’s wrong?”

It takes a moment, as well as all of MJ’s willpower, for her to summon the ability to speak. When she does, her voice is breathless and slightly pained. “Nothing,” she breathes, her hand shaking on the phone. “I just… I got in a fight with my dad. It’s not a big deal.”

“Is it raining where you are?” Peter says slowly. MJ swears under her breath. Damn his super-hearing, damn everything about the compassionate bug boy on the other end of the phone. “Wait… MJ, you’re not outside, are you?”

“I’ve gotta go,” MJ stammers in a strangled gasp. She’s freezing, and it’s all too much, and the panic is almost overwhelming.

“No,” Peter says quickly. “Nope, no. Where are you?”

MJ wants to deny him the information, but as her eyes find the signs, the words leave her mouth without permission. “I’m on 75th and 4th.”

“I”m on my way,” Peter says without hesitation. “Don’t move.” Then he hangs up, and MJ is left gripping a slick phone in the light of a streetlamp.

It could have been minutes or hours– MJ isn’t sure. All she knows is that it feels like an eternity before she sees a familiar sleek, black car covered in droplets pulling up on the curb next to her. The door opens immediately, and Peter is the first one out.

He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes widen when he sees her. Wordlessly, Peter shrugs off his jacket and slings it over her shoulders. MJ stiffens at first, but it’s dry, and it’s warm. It doesn’t push the chill away, but it’s something. He gestures to the car, and she gives him a pointed look before sliding inside. It’s all she can muster, and the little bit of dignity she has left to salvage with her dripping hair and thin clothing. Once she is safely inside, Peter slides in next to her, and the door is shut.

Happy’s eyes lock on her immediately from where he’s sitting in the front. “You look like you just got waterboarded,” he comments. However, the sarcastic tone of his voice does not match his body language. His eyes are filled with concern, and they flit back to her every so often. Immediately, Happy turns the heat all the way up and sets it to blast in the back.

“I did. I ran into a few HYDRA agents, they wanted to know where you hid your life. When I told them you didn’t have one, they didn’t believe me that you spend your nights driving around a bunch of teens.” It wasn’t well-crafted, and it wasn’t kind. But MJ was freezing and exhausted, and she needed to retain every bit of normalcy she could.

Happy snorts in amusement, offering her a wry smile. “Nice.”

“Thank you.” MJ attempts to return the smile, but she can tell that it more closely resembles a grimace.

“I should’ve brought towels,” Peter sighs, glancing at her. “Sorry.”

“You should be, Parker,” MJ replies. “How rude of you to upend your night in order to track down your soaking wet friend in a sketchy part of the city. Real freaking selfish.”

Happy snorts again up front, and Peter gives her a look. “Not funny.”

“A little funny,” MJ corrects. “It wouldn’t be funny if you weren’t so perfect.” She wouldn’t say it under any other circumstances, and Peter’s eyes widen slightly in surprise. However, he doesn’t address it, probably tacking it up to the cold and exhaustion. Thank the gods of caffeine and chocolate.

“I’m sorry I’m dripping all over your car.” Her apology comes after a few minutes of silence. It’s quiet, though not pitiful. It’s just a simple admittance.

“I cart the kid around all the time. You are not even close to the messiest thing I’ve had in my car.”

“Hey,” Peter protests.

“One day, that big head is gonna damage my ceilings.”

Of course, Peter’s the humblest person MJ knows, and so she lets out a huff of amusement this time. Happy seems satisfied as he pulls up to Peter’s apartment building. “Take care, kiddo,” he says as he gestures to the door. “Mr. Stark wanted me to say hello.”

MJ nods, letting out a breath. “Tell him I said he should be more creative with his greetings. That’s bland, even for an adult.” It’s not her best comeback, but as MJ steps out of the car, it’s all she’s got. Peter follows by her side as they walk to the building. They are silent as they walk up the stairs and knock on the door, saying nothing until the door bursts open.

May is standing there, peering at MJ from behind a pair of glasses anxiously. She immediately ushers MJ inside, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. “Oh, hon, you must be so cold,” she frets. “Peter, grab her some pajamas, alright? We’re gonna get you a warm shower.”

“I’m fine-”

“I’m not taking no for an answer, young lady.”

Ned is seated on the couch, and when he looks up at MJ, his eyes hold concern. She shoots him a look, and he immediately arranges his face into a stoic expression. “Right. Uh… Who let you in?” he asks, searching for a quip. MJ doesn’t respond; she’s too tired. Instead, she offers him a bittersweet, twisted grin before allowing May to usher her into the bathroom.

MJ isn’t sure how long she stands under the faucet, letting the hot water run over her skin. She still feels chilled to the bone. Right now, everything feels so heavy… She has interrupted their lives, all of them. This wasn’t supposed to be how their night looked, and it’s her fault. Something about the fact that she knows she caused them inconvenience stings, and no matter how much water soothes her skin it doesn’t erase the ache.

When MJ gets out, she takes her time drying off. Peter left a pair of his pajama pants and his Midtown hoodie outside the door, which she takes. Her wet clothes are bundled and wrapped in her towel, and though the pants are a bit too short, the dry clothing does admittedly feel incredible.

Finally, when she can stall no longer, MJ leaves the bathroom. She is expecting to see Ned and May, but instead, the only one there is Peter. He’s perched behind the kitchen counter as the kettle brews, and his eyes find her immediately.

“May went to bed, and Ned headed home for the night,” Peter explains, taking the kettle off and pouring it into a mug with her favorite tea, chamomile, all ready. “Here.”

MJ hesitates, but then she walks to the counter and takes the mug. For a minute, she clutches it, not caring that it’s so hot it burns her hands. The silence stretches on for a while, and Peter sips his own tea, peppermint.

The words come when MJ is least expecting them. “You guys suck you know?” She clutches the mug tighter, and she doesn’t flinch as her hands cry out for a little relief. 

“You let me interrupt everything you’re doing, end a perfectly good night way too early, and then you drive all the way across the city to get me? How the hell am I supposed to top that? By growing my own superpowers, billionaire mentor, an awesome aunt, best friend, and even freaking supervisor?”

Peter offers her a little, sad grin. “Keep going,” he instructs.

He doesn’t have to say it twice.

“You have had the… The best family. But this shit doesn’t happen to me, Parker! I don’t get the awesome friends and the great aunt and a mentor and someone to check up on me, and I don’t get an incredible uncle…”

As soon as she realizes what she is saying, she trails off, eyes widening. “Oh.” The reality of what she’s said hits her, and hard. 

“Oh, no. Crap. I… I’m sorry, Peter. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Peter doesn’t react, though. Instead, he offers her a slightly lopsided smile. “I know you didn’t,” he murmurs. For a minute, it’s silent, and shame washes over MJ.

“Right,” she mumbles as she tries to process it. “Right.” She sets down the tea suddenly. “I’m just gonna, um… I’m gonna go call my dad.”

“Wait, MJ.” Before she can turn, Peter reaches out and takes her hand, the same way she did for him. “Stop.” MJ freezes, silent.  She can’t say anything, can’t move. She can’t do anything but listen.

“You’re wrong.” She blinks, her cheeks flushing, but he barrels right on.

“You’re wrong. Because you know what? You do get them, all of those things.” She can’t breathe; it feels like someone has knocked the wind out of her. But Peter keeps going.

“May loves you. Ned and I wouldn’t be able to do anything without you, and you know it. You’ve said it a hundred times. And Happy? Happy thinks you’re great. Do you know the length of his list of people he would have driven to pick up in the pouring rain? It’s three people. Two of them were in that car and the other one writes his paycheck. And Mr. Stark thinks you’re brilliant. And you’re the one who says that every time I choose good, I’m showing Ben to you. So you get all of those people, MJ. They’re yours, too.”

MJ shakes her head vehemently. Her throat aches from a lump, and something stings her eyes. “I can’t, Peter,” she stammers. “They’re your family.”

He fixes her with a stare so intense she thinks she might melt. The next words he says make her knees weak.

“So are you.”

MJ isn’t sure when the tears happen. When they do, though, she knows she’s not going to be able to stop them. Peter doesn’t freak out, doesn’t act out of pity, doesn’t try to comfort her. Instead, he says, “Do you want the top bunk?”

“Yeah,” she replies after a moment, swiping at her eyes. “Yeah. And these aren’t tears. My soul is leaving my body through osmosis. I need to find another human skin to inhabit.”

Peter offers her a grin. “How about we do that in the morning?”

The little smile MJ offers in return is a bit watery, but it’s fierce, too, glowing with a warmth that radiates through her whole body. Right now, in the kitchen that smells like mint and chamomile, the cold and the fight and all of the barriers melt away. It’s just her, and it’s just him… And whatever else they are, first, they’re family. That’s something that nothing can take away.

“Fine. But don’t blame me if I choose the human in the bunk below me.”

“I’m fine with that, then I can chill out of my body for a while.”

They begin to walk to his room, and MJ can’t help but hold tight to his hand.

“Nah. I’d absorb your soul and banish you to a parallel world. Probably one where the plants are the superior species and humans are subservient.”

“Oh, nevermind. Can I suggest Ned as a preferable alternative?”

[tomato-hollandaise]

“My friends call me MJ”

Michelle Jones Aesthetic

(x)

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Alright on Paper Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: T (for now) Word count: 1699 Chapter: 1/?

Spideychelle Week Day 4: Fake Dating

Summary: Reading the newspaper has taught MJ a lot about the Avengers' relationships. Doesn't mean she wants to be in one.

Or, MJ fake-dates Spider-Man, but won't commit because she has a crush on Peter Parker.

MJ reads the paper.

Oh, what, she’s supposed to be above reading the paper because print is dead and the internet offers both more news (stories and outlets) and faster access to it? Tough. She still reads it because her dad still gets it. He’s had a subscription since he graduated college and thought reading the Times―tucking it under his arm and flipping through the pages while he rode the subway―was a more accurate measure of adulthood than owning a car. (They still don’t have a car, by the way. MJ is never going to learn to drive. Ugh.)

The appeal that drew her to it, at the age of four, was the occasional editorial cartoon, utterly beyond her comprehension. These days, she’s a little more interested in the articles on domestic politics, but hey, people are allowed to evolve.

So if you’re her, you’re MJ, you’re living in New York and you’re paying attention, you’re going to notice the Avengers. Notice shit like violent attacks and streets covered in rubble―although, that’s basically the city at rush hour during construction season. She’s noticing other things though, Avengers voicing opinions, reviving a feeling of civic interest, pride, and responsibility. She’s noticing the tide turning; citizens less interested in blaming superheroes for unscheduled demolition in Manhattan and more interested in who does Hawkeye’s tattooing or which karaoke bar Thor can most likely be found at on a Friday night.

And the Avengers’ relationships. New Yorkers are feeding on (super-)human interest stories with their faces so close to the pages they just about rub all the ink off with their noses.

It’s a terrible thing to know this, to be as observant as MJ is, tracking these changing attitudes and becoming an accidental expert on the path to good PR for the biologically, magically, genetically, or otherwise enhanced. Reading the paper is what gets her in trouble―sooner, rather than later―when Spider-Man starts hanging around.

Technically, he’s always hanging (that web shit is strong stuff, by the looks of it), and he’s always around. MJ figured out ages ago that Queens is his home base. Still, their borough’s just big enough and just crowded enough that she’d never encountered him in person until a few months ago. Now she sees him all. The. Time. He says coincidence, she says to-mah-to, and it really is him saying that because they’re officially on speaking terms. It’s an improvement to their interactions, mutually decided upon after Spider-Man scared the bejesus out of her when she was standing on her apartment’s balcony one day, glanced over the edge, and saw him crawling up the wall.

The deal became that if he was going to drop by, he better be obvious about it. This led to a routine MJ is loath to describe with the word ‘charming,’ but which may or may not involve her going out to the balcony or chilling by the open window of her bedroom on Saturday mornings, after her parents have left to run errands, and offering Spider-Man a glass of orange juice while they chat and she shares her paper with him. He likes the arts section. She likes watching him read it, sticking to the wall outside her window, the posters for whatever’s in theatres appearing upside down.

He joked one time about them catching a Saturday matinee together. She’s pretty sure he was joking.

The deal evolves as the weeks go by. MJ’s apartment is less of a rest stop between crime-fighting gigs and more of a superhero counselling centre with only one client. Not that Spider-Man is looking to her, a high school student, to mend whatever trauma led to him donning a formfitting red costume and babysitting an entire city, but she’s sure giving him a lot of advice lately.

It’s just… life stuff, really, and MJ doesn’t know where he sees authority when he looks at her, yawning in her jammies as she passes his juice through the open window, but he seems to listen. Maybe her dad was right about the paper; it’s possible that reading it makes her appear wise.

But it makes her act like a damn idiot in a crisis.

She’s heading to a guidance appointment one Wednesday (it’s junior year and MJ is getting some assistance with scouting out colleges) and the halls are empty; she was given permission to leave class five minutes early. When she turns the corner towards the guidance room, there’s Spider-Man. Just standing there. Middle of the hallway. MJ drops a textbook and it strikes the ground with a deafening slap.

This is her comfortable weekend companion, the hero of Queens. She adjusted to understanding that Spider-Man can be both, but there doesn’t seem to be any room in her mind for him to also exist midmorning at Midtown Tech.

He’s staring back at her (she can tell―the aperture of the white eyes on his mask has expanded in shock), arms held away from his body sort of comically, and MJ’s trying to recall if she’s ever seen him upright before when the jarring old-school bell rings and students flood from the door of every classroom.

Spider-Man bounds towards her, grabs her book from the floor, pushes it to her chest until she grips it, and says, “I know what to do.”

Everyone’s starting to make sounds of surprise, recognizing the Avenger in their midst, but even though MJ knows Spider-Man is kind of a hero of the people, he’s not acknowledging them at all. In fact, he’s wrapping his arms around her, and her eyes―boy oh boy―are wide. There’s just one thing on her mind besides what his suit feels like against the backs of her hands…

She’s praying that Peter isn’t seeing this.

“I’ll swing by your apartment later,” Spider-Man promises, speaking quietly near her ear.

He puts another little squeeze into the hug before stepping back. Reeling, MJ watches him give their audience a polite wave as he walks backwards in the direction of the nearest exit.

“Sorry, guys,” he tells the gathered crowd. “Uh, duty calls. I just wanted to stop by and see my girlfriend.”

Heads are swivelling to stare at MJ even before she drops the book for the second time.

\\\

“How?” she demands of him that evening, pacing tightly on the balcony while her parents laugh along to a sitcom in the living room. “How could that be you ‘knowing what to do’?!”

“I was doing what you said,” Spider-Man says defensively. He’s pacing too, along the balcony’s two-inch-wide railing. (She’s too mad to be worried.)

“Excuse me? We’re putting this on me? When was I an active part of that plan, while I was holding that stupid textbook or while my arms were pinned because you were hugging me? I’d really like to know.”

“W-well, it’s what you said about public perception of the Avengers.”

“Specifics!”

“Like Iron Man,” he argues, lowering his voice after how she snapped. “People like hearing about him and Pepper Potts.”

“And have you always modeled yourself after Tony Stark, or is this sudden, public relationship announcement your first foray?”

They stare at each other for a minute, Spider-Man balancing and MJ looking up at him―which is kind of weird after they hugged today and she realized he’s shorter than she is. She sighs, regretting her harsh words.

“I’m sorry,” she offers. “I know what you did was thoughtless―”

“Well―”

“―ill-advised―”

“Literally your advice.”

“―and, frankly, moronic―”

“Hey.”

“―but I get it, you panicked―”

“I had it under control.”

“―so I forgive you.”

“Oh. Well, thanks.”

“Now, come down here so I don’t have to keep resisting the urge to shove you off that railing.”

Once Spider-Man flips down (she’s already forgiven him―what, does he think he’s getting bonus points for landing the dismount?), MJ crosses her arms and gives that red mask of his a stern look.

“Still not thrilled, huh?”

“Good guess,” she says dryly.

“I might be missing something here, but… why? I mean, I didn’t think I did anything to embarrass you. Did I hurt you somehow?”

MJ shrugs and stares at her slippers.

“People saw.”

There’s a pause.

“…We already knew that.” His tone is almost clueless enough to make her apprehensive that this is the guy she and the rest of Queens have protecting them.

“I don’t know if… if a certain person saw.”

She’s blushing hard to admit even this much of a crush and she’d be mortified if she wasn’t making her confession to this socially illiterate superhero.

“Boyfriend?” Spider-Man asks. MJ glances up to see him leaning extremely un-casually against the wall, arms folded a little less tensely than hers.

“You sound skeptical,” she accuses.

“You’ve never mentioned him.”

MJ glares for a few seconds before backing down.

“No, he’s not my boyfriend. And you didn’t know that either because we only ever talk about you.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Spider-Man immediately offers, like he’s trying to even things up.

Groaning, she lets her shoulders slump.

“You do now.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s pretty unlikely that nobody took a picture.”

“Safe to assume the students of a school called Midtown Tech are tech-savvy enough to work a cellphone camera. By the way,” MJ adds, narrowing her eyes at him, “why were you there?”

“Oh, um, gas leak in one of the Chemistry labs. They dispatch the fire department for that kind of thing and I hate for emergency services to get tied up if I can fix it myself.”

“Huh. I had no idea gas leaks were in your repertoire. Thought muggers and bicycle thieves were more your beat.”

She’s teasing him pretty lightly considering he definitely just lied to her. It’s fine, she’ll wait to crack him until he’s forgotten all about visiting her school.

Spider-Man swings his arms nervously.

“If it’s a community problem, I’m on it. I’m just a friendly―”

“―neighbourhood Spider-Man,” MJ finishes. “Yeah, I’ve heard the tagline. And you’re also my fake boyfriend until we figure out a way for you to tactfully dump me.”

He takes an excited step towards her.

“I know wha―”

She cuts him off with a swiftly raised hand.

“Don’t even say it.”

[bellsmj]

bad liar

summary: peter parker wasn’t the best at keeping secrets. god knows how the world hasn’t figured out he’s spider-man. but his relationship with michelle jones was something he tried hard to keep it just between themselves.

or

5 times people find out about their relationship + 1 time no one does.

characters: michelle jones x peter parker, steve rogers, may parker, ned leeds, roger harrington, flash thompson, tony stark, sam wilson, bucky barnes, wanda maximoff

prompt: secret relationship (spideychelle week - day 1)

word count: 1,666

warnings: language, implicit sexual behavior

I.

it all started with a kiss. their first kiss in general and as a couple. in their defense, ned had left them alone for way too long and they’re 16 year olds with raging hormones and a gigantic crush on each other.

they were on the roof of the avengers’ compound, looking at the few stars on the sky, a bit too cliché for michelle if you ask her, their hands were touching, peter put his hand on top of hers and she was mad.

“peter parker, if you kiss me right now, i’ll never forgive you.” so, obviously, that’s what he did. and she did forgive him, the many kisses they shared after that proved it.

that same night, they decided to keep that relationship a secret. with the whole spider-man thing, he didn’t think it was the safest for people to know.

of course, someone finds out the next morning.

see, the thing is, peter was never late for superhero stuff, so, steve rogers knocking on his door at 9 AM because he was late for the practice they had scheduled the night before wasn’t that weird.

his eyes still bleed whenever he remembers what he saw when he opened the door. michelle wasn’t a shy girl, like, at all. she was very confident in herself and her body. but steve finding their naked bodies tangled in each other wasn’t how any one of them wanted to start their morning.

the teens begged him not to tell everyone and he, more than anyone, understood what they felt. he promised he wouldn’t tell anyone and walked away. thankfully, he kept his word.

needless to say, they were way more careful since then.

II.

they had been dating for four long months and only steve knew. well, steve and this really nice lady who owned mj’s favorite book store.

as much as it was nice that people didn’t know, it also sucked because they couldn’t do any couple-like things in public, which had its good side, since michelle couldn’t keep her hands off him when they were alone. who knew she was so touchy.

they were on peter’s couch, may was at work and after was going to her friend’s house upstate and ned had a family dinner, meaning they had the apartment for themselves.

they were watching a random movie that was playing when they turned on the tv. that is until michelle started kissing his neck. she found a spot, worked on it until she felt it was red enough, then made her way up to his lips.

they were making out on the couch until they heard may’s voice, “peter? are you home? i forgot my bag and keys when i left for work this morning.” they immediately pulled back and peter’s eyes widened, pointing to his room and telling mj to hide. “peter?” she says again.

“u-uh, yeah! i’m here, may!” he makes sure michelle is there with the door locked before he goes open the door.

“took you long enough, i have to hurry, melissa is waiting for me downstairs.... what’s that on your neck, peter?” she says, with her bag already on her arm and her hands on her waist.

“uhh, it’s an a... a rash?” he stumbles over his words. “hm, sure it is. wear condoms. bye, peter. bye, michelle,” she yells. “may!” he says sheepishly, but she had already closed the door behind her.

when she got home on sunday and he asked her how she knew it was michelle, her answer was, “i didn’t, that was a guess. but now that you told me, what’s going on between you two?”

III.

it was hard keeping it a secret, but with ned it was the worst. he was with them almost 24/7 and mj had no idea how peter still hadn’t blabbed about it.

michelle was making her way to the library when she heard him behind her. she bit her lip and walked into the next empty alley she saw.

she heard him drop behind her and turned around, meeting his masked face.

“hi, spider-man,” she smiles and pulls his mask up so that she could kiss him.

“hey, babe,” he says when they pull away. “how many times do i have to tell you that pet names don’t work for us, loser?”

“sorry, m-“ “MJ?” they hear ned’s voice coming out from a pocket on the suit. “shit. h-hi, ned. what’s up?” peter grabs his phone looking apologetic.

“you two? how long?” ned said and it was michelle’s turn to stumble over her words, “u-uh, five... five months?”

“FIVE MONTHS?”

IV.

mister harrington decided that the decathlon team needed some “bonding time”. or “bullshit” in michelle’s words. so, before their weekly wednesday practice they went out to dinner (minus flash. they meticulously planned it so it’d happen the week he was traveling). mj really wasn’t having it.

as soon as they got there michelle yelped, “ow, mister harrington i just tripped and i think i twisted my ankle.” she was supporting all her weight on peter, who, surprisingly, understood her little act. “oh, yeah. i think she’ll have to head back. i’ll help her,” he said and picked her up.

“peter parker, put me down right now,” she said, under her breath, but keeping the fake look of pain on her face. “but-“ harrington started.

“bye! see you guys back at school,” peter said and started walking away.

when they got back at school they went straight to the auditorium. they put the tables and the stand in their places, which took them only 10 minutes with the whole “peter has super strength” thing.

michelle sat on top of one of the tables and peter stood in front of her, his hands on her hips.

“nice little act you did there,” he says, with what michelle calls his stupid smile on his face. “why, thank you.” his smile grows and she kisses it off his face.

the team wasn’t supposed to come back for another half hour, so you can imagine their faces when they’re interrupted by gasps and mister harrington yelling at everybody.

V.

if you go to midtown high, then you’ve probably went to, or at least heard about, flash’s parties. a bunch of drunk teenagers in a huge house isn’t really a good idea, so that’s why it happened at least twice a month.

peter was never a big fan of parties, well, not since the bite, his senses got too overwhelmed, but michelle begged him to go, something about “people watching”. so, may dropped them off at 10 PM, giving her nephew money to call an uber.

the music could be heard houses away and, as expected, when they got inside half of the people were already drunk.

they grabbed a drink for themselves and hung out at the living room until michelle whispered something about it being “too boring” and grabbed her boyfriend’s hand and dragged him upstairs.

she opened the first unlocked door she found and kicked out a couple mid-kiss. “we’re gonna do better use of the room anyways,” she tells peter. “if i learned one thing from coming to all of these parties is that flash has every streaming service available on his tv.”

she jumps on the bed, peter following close behind and grabs the remote, “have you ever cried at a party?” “well, when i was-“ “that was a rhetorical question, we’re watching this is us.”

and yes, they did end up crying. and peter was terrified because michelle did not cry in any circumstances. so, he just pulled her closer and kissed her forehead. he truly was scared.

another episode started and neither of them said anything until halfway into the episode when mj paused it. “you saw me cry and you didn’t faint, i’m shocked.” he laughed, “i’m also shocked, to be honest.” she smiled and kissed him. which was the perfect moment for someone to burst through the door.

“MY EYES.” the person yelled, and they immediately recognized flash’s voice.

+1

they were careful around everybody but the avengers. peter would make long calls in the kitchen first thing in the morning and they wouldn’t even bat an eye.

at this point, they wanted them to find out.

peter called her babe during their calls, no one said a thing. he’d be next to bucky and sam and would text her a bunch of hearts, nothing. one day, he showed up with a bunch of hickeys on his neck and no one mentioned it, which was absurd to peter.

later that day, he went up to steve “hey, do they not care that i’m dating someone or are they just dumb?” steve laughed, “kid, for superheroes, they can be very inattentive. but why not tell them if you want them to know so badly?”

that’s what he decides to do the next time he goes to the compound. tony was developing some sort of emergency protocol for his suit, something only may and ned could access.

they’re all at the kitchen when the couple gets there. peter pulls tony aside and asks, “hey, could you add michelle to the protocol? since we’re dating and all.” tony gasped, “dating?”

“remind me again why did i chose to tell the most dramatic of them.” peter says under his breath to michelle. her nervous smile grows and she answers tony, “yeah, we’re dating.”

sam is the next to hear it. “yo, bucky, did you hear this? the kid is dating the girl kid who always comes here.”

wanda, who’s next to bucky lifts up her head and smiles, “are you really?" “yeah,” mj chuckles.

peter smiles at the mess those grown ass adults were making because he was dating someone. he’d have to be ten times more careful now, but it felt good to have people knowing it.

mj squeezes his hand reassuringly and smiles. peter smiles back and kisses her cheek.

all was well.

[spideychelleforever]

@spideychelleweek Day 2: Meeting the Parents

Peter is happily assuring May that nothing is wrong, he’s okay, and that he’s sorry she worried so much. He tells her he was never in the Washington Monument, but it does little to pacify her because she’s a good mother and worries to death about her boy.

Around them, kids are chattering with their parents and hugging it out. Almost everyone’s parents dropped everything and hauled ass to DC to take their children home.

But MJ’s couldn’t.

MJ has the best parents in the world. They’re loving, supportive, proud of the daughter they’ve raised and how hard-working she is. But while she learned from their example of hard work, the good that came from her being inspired by their hard work comes with the bad that is their busy work schedule.

MJ’s parents are surgeons, regularly pulling long shifts at the hospital. Now that MJ is older and doesn’t need constant supervision, they feel more comfortable spending more nights at the hospital working, knowing their daughter can take care of herself. Nonetheless, usually one of them will run home and cook something for MJ to eat when she gets home from school, so that their baby girl doesn’t have to run to get burgers every night they’re working. And on their days off, they genuinely do spend as much time with their daughter as time can allow.

And MJ accepts that about her parents. She admires them so much for finding the time to raise a child and also be some of the best doctors in the country. Long ago she accepted the reality of their workload and hours, so she’s not bothered when she can’t see them. It makes her appreciate the time she does have with them, and she appreciates that they have never waivered in their love for her.

That being said, she knew they wouldn’t come to DC with the other parents. Sudden trips like this are a no-no for how busy they are, and she wasn’t in the Monument anyway, so who cares?

Well. Seeing the others reuniting with their parents does tug at her heartstrings a little. So she does what she usually does when she’s upset - she thinks about something she likes. Or rather, someone she really, really likes.

Seeing him being hugged by his aunt melts MJ’s heart. It made her happy to see Peter was being raised by such a loving woman, and it made her happier to see Peter smile as he melted into a hug from her.

But then her heart broke a little again, knowing her parents wouldn’t be giving her the same hug. Knowing that Peter would never be in her arms-ugh, she thought, get a grip, your friends nearly died, there’s more important things than a stupid sweet smart boy.

Peter and May parted from each other’s embrace and smiled and laughed a little. Then, as if by somehow reading her mind, Peter turned to where MJ was leaning against a bus. MJ would’ve jumped out of her skin because she had Peter’s attention... and it wasn’t something she seemed to have often. She wanted to savor it, but when Peter looked at her, he didn’t have that gorgeous, brilliant smile on his face that she’d fallen in love with. His eyes, while far from cold, weren’t as warm as they were a second ago hugging his aunt. He wasn’t looking at her like he looked at Ned. Or Liz, she thought bitterly.

And MJ knew why. All she did was tease him, out of her misguided desire to talk to him, play with him, get his attention... yet all she did was make fun of him and call him a loser. MJ’s face remained placid, but inside something was sinking rapidly as she understood why Peter was looking at her like he was.

They weren’t friends.

It made her want to throw up, the realization that she’d been pushing him away. But why would he ever be close to her? She was antisocial and snarky. She didn’t deserve someone as warm and perfect as Peter... let alone as a boyfriend. Was she deliberately setting herself up for failure so she could stay where it was safe, and long for him from afar? Because if that had been her master plan, to get with him by sabotaging any chances with him, well, mission accomplished? And that mission accomplished was breaking her poor little lovesick heart.

As quick as it came, it left. Peter turned his attention away as he and May began to leave for her car. Once they were a few steps away, MJ couldn’t stop herself from hanging her head.

“Who was that, hun?” May asked as she walked next to her nephew.

“Oh, that was Michelle, she’s part of the team and all,” Peter said, a bit nonchalantly.

“Was she in the elevator too?” May asked.

“No, I saw her outside, she’d been saying for a while that she didn’t want to celebrate something built by slaves,” Peter shrugged.

“Smart girl,” May murmured, more than a little impressed. “Well, I wonder where her parents are?” She pondered, looking around.

When May turned her gaze back to MJ, she caught something only a mother can catch - or rather, something only a mother can catch by their developed skills of reading between the lines. She saw MJ watching Peter before she quickly whipped her head away when May had turned back to her.

May deliberated. She’d seemed so glum and stoic when she was up close to her. And then she caught her gazing at Peter while they walked away. And the quick way she whipped her head away. It all gave her a pretty good inkling of what was going on, but then her parental instincts returned as she realized MJ was alone.

“Where do you think her parents are?” May asked curiously, not taking her eyes off the young girl. Peter didn’t know, but now that May mentioned it, MJ was the only student around without a family reuniting with her.

A pregnant pause. Then May turned back to Peter, and said “let’s go check on her, make sure she’ll be alright.” Peter nodded, a bit confused, but followed his aunt back to MJ.

“Hi, you’re Michelle, right?” May asked gently as she walked back up to MJ, who seemed surprised the older woman was speaking to her. “Um, yes ma’am,” MJ answered politely, her eyes going a little wide when they flickered towards Peter.

May noticed, but flashed MJ a warm smile. “I’m May, Peter’s aunt,” gesturing to her nephew beside her. “I noticed you were by yourself, are your parents on their way?”

MJ forced a polite grimace. “No, they’re... they’re busy working. They do important surgeries and they’re not really... able to do last minute things. Like this,” she fumbled.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” May apologized. The gentle way MJ mentioned her parents assured her that they certainly weren’t deadbeats or anything, at least. “Do you need a ride home?”

Peter got a bit shook hearing that. Michelle?! Riding home to New York with them?! It was gonna be so... awkward.... he didn’t exactly know Michelle so what could he say to her? What could they say to her?

“Oh,” MJ said, a little taken aback. Ignoring the part of her that was thrilled at the prospect of spending so much time almost entirely alone with Peter, she was... touched, and felt... happy? Happy that May, a complete stranger, was offering to take her home in lieu of her parents? It was... odd. But... sweet. Sweet is good.

“Um, yeah, sure... thank you Miss Parker..” MJ said, breathing a little easier. “That’s so kind of you. I’ll just text my folks and let them know.”

“Okay hun,” May smiled. After a few minutes had passed, MJ’s parents had given her the green light, and they were off to May’s car. “Now we’re in for a little drive, so you kids want some food?”

“Yeah, I’m starved,” Peter said, desperate to try to make some conversation. While he didn’t think MJ would start calling him a loser in front of his aunt, he was still on edge.

“I’m down for whatever,” MJ said, “Thank you ma’am.”

May decided to grab them some chicken sandwiches from a drive-thru so that they could get home quicker. She rejected MJ’s attempt to pay for her food, causing MJ to profusely thank the older woman for her generosity.

Peter looked at MJ curiously. Granted, he never thought MJ was disrespectful to adults or anything, but it was still so odd to see her so nice and humble for once - and so soft, too.

For the remainder of the trip, May ended up talking to MJ about social justice and the like, and Peter was surprised to see her so animated and passionate. It was.. it was kinda cute, oddly. May and MJ impressed each other and made Peter feel like an uneducated idiot. But he kinda liked it too? Peter loved knowing there was more for him to learn, and learning that MJ was so much smarter than him... that was kind of interesting.

Finally, May arrived back in New York, and no sooner had she pulled up to MJ’s house did MJ’s parents come running out the door to embrace their baby girl. MJ couldn’t stop herself from shedding a tear as she tightly held her parents, grateful that she got to see them again. After the reunion, MJ’s parents came and greeted May and Peter, thanking the former for driving their daughter all the way home. And soon May and MJ’s parents were hitting it off. Both of MJ’s parents were impressed upon hearing May was just as socially woke as their daughter. Compliments were passed around; May complimented MJ’s mother’s hair, and MJ’s mother complimented May’s looks in general.

While the parents had a rousing discussion, Peter and MJ were a few feet away.

MJ shyly looked at Peter. “Hey. So um... thanks.”

“Oh-Oh, for what, Michelle?”

“For.. taking me home.”

“Oh, no, that was May!” Peter smiled.

“Well, yeah, she drove, but you helped too.” MJ hid a smile as best she could.

“I did?” Peter asked curiously.

And he wasn’t prepared to see MJ turn to him with a soft, calm smile. “Yeah. You did.”

They stared at each other, not sure what to do.

That’s when MJ’s mother cleared her throat.

The pair looked at the three parents who had turned their attention to them, sizing them up. The three then exchanged looks and something unsaid went between them all.

Then they smiled, and went into a round of goodbyes and thank-you’s.

When MJ told Peter, “bye, dork,” and Peter responded with a shy, “bye, Michelle,” the three parents shot each other another exchange of looks, this time punctuated by smiles.

*This is a draft I’ve been working on for months based on deleted shots of MJ sadly watching Peter reunite with May after the Washington Monument incident! Spideychelle Week finally gave me an opportunity to finish it! Anyway, I’m going to dedicate this to dear @spideychelle , one of the best new Spideychelle content producers around!*

Tagging: my crush @you-guys--are-losers @spiderman-homecomeme @spideychelle @spideyxchelle @spideychelle-romanogers @peterjonesparker @suplosers @lovely-iris-west-allen @acastleintheair @wandrlust-stark @sodafizzyart

[spiderman-homecomeme]

Day Two - Remember Me

AN: Y’all we made it!! I’m so excited to share this one with you guys and to see what our talented fandom has done! Here is my contribution to day two! It’s all kinds of sappy, soft, sweet, sad (peep the title) and just emotional in general, and I hope you guys enjoy it. <3

Again, thank you @spideychelleweek for making this all possible!

Prompt: Meet the Family

Here is some 2.9k odd of fluff and hurt/comfort! 

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“Listen, I know you’re a huge nerd and everything, but..." Michelle’s voice holds a teasing, slightly judgmental edge as she struggles to hold three DVDs in one hand, hastily catching one as it falls out of her grasp. “Do you really need more than one copy of The Force Awakens?”

“Okay, first of all,” Peter starts, defensively holding one finger up, “One of those is Ned’s.”

MJ blinks slowly.

“Second of all, May bought me one as a random gift after I’d already pre-ordered it, and I couldn’t just… you know, give it back,” He reasons. “So, yeah. To answer your question: I do need three different copies.” Peter turns his attention back to organizing the box of various electronics hastily thrown together by past-Peter.

MJ still seems less than impressed with that explanation. “Okay. Why?”

“Well,” Peter shrugs, mouth pulling into a slight frown. “What if I lose one?”

When she doesn’t respond, Peter glances up, not surprised to find her staring blankly at him, her expression as impassive as it’s ever been.

He relents, letting her toss one of the three into the “give away” bin before promising to give the second back to Ned.

MJ, out of the kindness of her own heart— or out of boredom, either one— has been helping Peter, in her own words, “get his shit together,” for most of the afternoon. Too many times has she tripped over a stray book, his backpack, a hoodie or even a lone pair of boxers on the floor of his bedroom; times where she’s been unable to find the spare iPhone charger through all the spare papers, pens, and God knows what else in that mess he calls a “stuff drawer.”

Now, none of this is to say that Peter is the messiest person in the world, per se. He can be a relatively tidy person when he needs to be; his room is never littered with trash or the general grossness that comes with some teenage bedrooms.

But...

The cluttered state of Peter’s room is often a reflection of his own mind.

Which is why Michelle is there.

Plus, she’d seen one episode of Tidying Up with Marie Kondo one day when she was home sick from school, and with her room already pretty damn organized-- if she could say so herself-- she has to have some kind of outlet.

So, in a way, they’re really helping each other.

“Oh, hey,” Peter’s voice cuts through her internal monologue, his attention drawn to an ancient— by today’s standards, at least— video camera at the bottom of his second ‘random tech’ box. “Uncle Ben’s camera!”

For a moment, MJ’s ready to go into full-on Comfort Peter in the Best Way She Can Mode at the mere mention of his late Uncle, and she’s trying to decide whether she should do a full or half-hug when his fond, distant smile stops her.

“Wow, really?” She inquires cautiously, craning her neck slightly to get a better look at the artifact. “What’s on it?”

Again, Peter shrugs, flipping the screen open as he examines the device. “I dunno. Old home movies. Probably embarrassing videos of me.”

And he immediately regrets that last part, not having to see the cheshire grin that stretches across her features and the playful quirk of her brow to know that they’re there.

His shoulders sag as he rolls his eyes, fighting back a smile. “You don’t wanna watch any, do you?”

“Um, of course I do.” Her brows furrow as she glances side-to-side. “Are you kidding?”

“It’s not even charged, though.”

“So charge it.”

A beat of silence passes between them.

“Okay, fine,” Peter gives in, though he seems to be far from annoyed, searching for the charging cable near the bottom of the tangle of wires.

MJ cracks another smile at him before continuing to sort through his DVD collection.

--

The old camera feels strange in Peter’s hand, heavier than today’s technology, screen casting a faint blue light as it turns on for what may be the first time in a decade. He’s surprised they’ve even been able to charge it, judging by how old this thing is.

MJ sits on the bed beside him, head resting against his, watching as he navigates the almost laughably ancient menu, an audible, very dated beep-click sounding at every push of a button.

Neither of them know what to expect as Peter clicks “play” on the first video.

The screen flickers slightly, the lens focusing on what they assume to be the old dining room. A man and a woman are setting the table, chuckling quietly to themselves as they joke with one another. They continue to chat idly as they place the plates and cups down, the context of the conversation lost.

They’re at first only vaguely recognizable to MJ, but the feeling is fleeting, the realization almost instantly dawning on her when she sees the mop of curly brown hair and dark eyes on the man, the cheery smile on the woman’s face.

Richard and Mary Parker.

The date at the bottom of the screen reads: August 4th, 2005, 6:07 PM

Her eyes pass a quick glance to the boy next to her, gauging his reaction. There’s a faint, barely-there grin pulling at the corner of his mouth as he watches his parents interact, neither of them paying any attention to the person filming.

“I wanna help!” A tiny voice sounds from behind the camera, and the view shifts quickly, showing a much younger Peter bounding into the room, napkins in his tiny hands.

Mary turns, beaming as she talks to her son, crouching down to show him how to fold the napkins.

MJ feels herself mirroring the expression on his mother’s face.

Peter is still silent beside her, and she can only wonder how he’s truly feeling as they both watch. While she has certainly experienced loss in her near seventeen years of being on this earth, she’s never gone through the pain of losing a parent, much less two biological and one emotional.

“My mom and dad,” Peter finally speaks, as if introducing them to her, his voice quiet.

Under normal circumstances, she might tease him for pulling a Captain Obvious, but she refrains.

She hums in acknowledgement.

“It’s crazy…” He starts, eyes never straying from the screen. “I— I don’t really remember much of them, you know? They… Well, they died when I was really little, so I didn’t really get a chance to make very many memories with them, and everything I did remember I kinda forgot. But—” He pauses, a fond smile playing on his lips. “Hearing their voices… Even though it’s not really something I actually remember… It’s almost like… like it all comes back. Like, it’s so clear, you know?”

It’s said that the the voice is usually the first to go, the first thing one forgets about someone else after they’ve gone. And the more she thinks about it, the more MJ realizes just how true it is. She remembers, very specifically, the last time she heard her grandfather’s voice, but it had been so long since then. In that moment, right then and there, she can just barely recall it in her memory.

She knows, however, that if she were to hear it in a recording— or in this case, a home video— she’d remember once again.

Memories are funny like that, she guesses.

“Yeah,” she nods, gently knocking his shoulder with hers. “I get it.”

The video goes on, with the cameraman— who Michelle can only assume at this point to be Uncle Ben— having moved to the kitchen.

A younger Aunt May stands in the room, poring over a recipe on the counter. “Damn, May,” MJ jokes appreciatively, laughing as Peter gives her a playful shove.

“Don’t even!”

The lens zooms in on May’s face, and she turns, an exasperated grin breaking across her features as she rolls her eyes. She swats at the man behind the camera with a dish towel.

“Hey, how ‘bout you put that dang thing away and make yourself useful around here!” May teases, her eyes sparkling as an immature-for-his-age giggle is heard from the cameraman.

The video ends as the screen pans down, the next playing with only a second in between.

The date reads: August 7th, 2005, 3:36 PM

“Whatcha got there, Pete?”

This time, Aunt May’s voice can be heard from behind the camera, the smile in her tone infectious as the little boy beams up at her through a mop of curly brown hair. A slightly-too-big cowboy hat sits on top of his head. He proudly holds up the pinto hobby horse, jumping with excitement.

“It’s a horsey!”

Aunt May oo’s and aw’s. “What’s the horsey’s name?”

Little Peter pats the neck of the toy with semi-gentle, reverent hands. “Shunshine!”

“Shunshine?” MJ asks incredulously, doing absolutely nothing to hide the snort that had escaped.

MJ can hardly blame the kid though; she’s pushing seventeen and she still has trouble with consonant digraphs every once in a while.

“Hey!” Peter laughs along with her, though there was no stopping the red tint that settled over his features. “It’s a great name!”

“Very creative.”

“Shut up.”

Their joined laughter fades as the next few videos play, falling into a comfortable silence as the old Parker living room shows up on the screen. Red and blue streamers adorn the walls, dozens of balloons in the same shades touch the ceiling, a comically large Happy Birthday! is strewn across the banister.

The date reads: August 10th, 2005, 4:14 PM

The camera circles the room, showing off the decorations, before finally landing on the birthday boy himself.

“What’s your name, sir?”

A new voice full of mirth and humor asks from behind the lens; his father.

Young Peter looks up, a toothy grin stretched across his chubby face. “Peter Benjamin Parker,” he answers, emphasizing each word with a firm nod.

“And how old are you today?” His mother asks, tone laced with hushed excitement.

The boy smiles again, eyes wide, holding up four fingers.

“Four years old!” Both of his parents gasp-cheer.

August 10th, 2005, 5:23 PM

The birthday cake is simple; funfetti with chocolate frosting and red and blue sprinkles, a giant “four” candle placed in the center. Peter wiggles in his chair, eyes wide with wonder as he watches his mother light the wick.

“Are you ready, Peter?” She asks him, and he nods happily.

Happy Birthday is sung as it should be; full of enthusiasm, each singer being in a different key by the end of the song, cheers filling the room as the candle is blown out.

His mother plants a loving kiss on top of his head before smoothing down his unruly curls.

August 10th, 2005, 6:16 PM

The lens briefly goes in and out of focus, showing young Peter as he sits among torn wrapping paper and discarded boxes, his mouth stretched into a toothy smile as he looks at his presents. He jumps up, running around the room to give everyone an enthusiastic hug, thanking them over and over again for the toys.

August 10th, 2005, 7:02 PM

“Happy Birthday, Pete!” His family cheers in a happy chorus.

Peter responds with an excited, “Thank you!”

Aunt May briefly glances up, flashing a smile at her husband behind the camera, before looking back at the young boy in her lap. Her arms surround him in a loose, but loving embrace.

“Did you have a good day?” May asks.

Peter’s answer is an excited nod, followed by an appreciative hum.

Though the snippets of this past life are brief, they’re still able to elicit a familiar warmth from within present day Peter, and he huffs out a quiet chuckle at the way his younger self babbles on and on about how cool his brand new cowboy boots are.

And it’s infectious, as MJ feels the stirrings of the same, incandescent feeling.

The next clip starts from a whole new perspective, it seems.

Seeing as now they’re much closer to the ground, and the excited giggling coming from behind the lens, it seems as if young Peter, at some point, had gotten a hold of Ben’s camera.

August 12th, 2005, 5:50 PM

The view is shaky as the little boy darts throughout the apartment, pausing every few feet to film one of his relatives— though he only gets their legs in the shot; he’s only just pushing 3’1”, after all.

“Whatcha doin’, Pete?”

A new voice can be heard as a pair of work boots come to a stop in front of the boy, one they hadn’t heard yet.

Michelle can feel Peter freeze at the sound, and she glances at him through the corner of her eye; his gaze is still trained on the small screen, his smile tightening.

Uncle Ben himself crouches down, his tall body barely fitting into the frame, the top of his head partially cut off. A broad smile is stretched across his kind face, green eyes looking over the lens and at the boy holding the recorder.

“Filming,” young Peter says simply.

“I can see that! Got anything good yet?”

The camera moves as the boy nods proudly. “Uh-huh. Just like you!”

“Just like me?”

“Yeah! Are you proud?” Though the word comes out more, “poud.”

“Of course,” Ben chuckles gently, reaching over to ruffle the boy’s hair, eyes crinkling as his smile widens. “I’ll always be proud of you, bud.”

The video pauses, the screen frozen on the happy scene.

Present-day Peter hasn’t relaxed, his lips pressing together into a thin line, releasing a weighted breath as his thumb hovers over the play button.

MJ’s stomach churns with a new sense of guilt. “We don’t have to watch anymore… if you don’t want to.”

He nods quietly, slowly closing the screen, gripping the camera in his hands, knuckles nearly turning white at the pressure. Michelle sits, arms folding across her chest as she faces the internal struggle of what to say next, still unable to shake the unease festering in her gut.

“It’s just—” Peter starts, his voice cutting off. He sniffs again, glancing away as he preemptively wipes at the corner of his eye. “Hearing him again… his voice… seeing him actually talk...” He shakes his head. “It just— It got to me, I guess…” He trails off, his gaze still trained on the wall in front of them.

MJ places a hand on top of his, watching his face as he continues to speak.

“And I thought I was… good now? I don’t know. I mean,” he swallows, trying his best to keep his voice even. “I know that you never really forget them, that you never really move on… And everyone always tells you that it’ll get easier but it doesn’t... But, I guess I just thought that I was actually doing better. That it really had gotten easier. Maybe I was the exception... I stopped thinking about him every second… I had some voicemails— that he’d left me, before he… you know… but I’d never listened to them, I guess… because I was too afraid. Of what? I don’t know...”

She gives his hand a comforting squeeze, her own heart pounding in her ears.

“Like, I know that it makes sense that I don’t really remember what my parents sound like, their voices. ‘Cause, you know, I didn’t get the chance to. But I never—” His voice is caught in his throat, the shakiness making it harder and harder to speak. He finally turns to look at her, bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes clouded with tears.

“I never thought I’d forget his.”

At that, without a second thought, she opens her arms, and he falls into them easily. She wraps him in a warm embrace, his face burrowing under her chin. He doesn’t weep, tears falling silently instead as she rubs soothing circles on his back.

And she doesn’t know how long she holds him like that, how long they sit there. No words are exchanged between them, though none are really needed.

“Sorry… For making you watch that,” MJ’s voice is nearly inaudible as she mumbles into his hair. “I shouldn’t have pressured you.”

“No, uh—” This time, he shakes his head, the quiet sniffle between words not going unnoticed. “No. No, it’s okay,” he reassures her, finally pulling back, though he still stays in her arms. “It’s actually really nice… seeing my parents. Seeing Ben. I’m not gonna say that it’s like they never left... But it’s like they’re still with me, he’s still with me, in a way.” His lips quirk into a sad smile, his hand reaching up to wipe at his eyes again. “And… I’m glad you got to see them.”

Michelle finds herself easily returning his bittersweet expression.

While she’d never had the chance to meet his parents, from the short clips she saw, she could tell that they loved each other and that they truly loved their son. She’d also never properly met Uncle Ben, only seeing him in passing as he’d pick up Peter from middle school, or come to decathlon meets in their Freshman year. It wasn’t much, only snippets of their actual lives, but even the smallest glimpse made her feel closer to Peter, to his family.

It was a feeling she’d treasure for years to come.

Perhaps in a more emotionally stable state, she’d make fun of herself for being so cliche, so dramatic. But at this point, right in this moment, she didn’t care.

Her lips press together into a small, faint smile as she takes his hand in hers again.

“I’m glad I got to see them, too.”

[spideyxchelle]

spideychelle week | 2019 | day one, secret relationship 

ao3

She has an uncommonly long neck, Peter offhandedly thinks. He notices all kinds of dumb, arbitrary things about Michelle Jones, but here, in gym class, his mind wanders and fixates on the most peculiar things. Her neck isn’t something he usually gives much thought. Yet, as MJ stretches her arms up over her head across the gymnasium, his eyes traitorously wander down the length of her nape and further.

She has lovely collarbones, too, which he can barely see through the cotton fabric of their school-issued gym shirt. There isn’t really much about her that he isn’t outrageously fond of, to be perfectly honest.

He isn’t sure how there was ever a time when he wasn’t completely obsessed with her. He was dumber then, at sixteen. He knows a lot more about the world now. Being seventeen (and one absolutely disastrous space mission that resulted in a five year snap) has changed a lot about him.

The Peter before was the Peter that liked girls at a distance. The Peter before was the guy that mooned over a girl and every time said girl talked to him, he completely and utterly shut down, like a broken computer.

The Peter now isn’t really sure how much time he has left. There is expedience to everything he does, everything he risks, because he knows, with certainty, that he is not guaranteed tomorrow. He learned that lesson the hard way.

MJ drops her arms back to her sides and spots him watching her. He quirks a smile. She returns it. His heart does a stupid somersault.

Ned thumbs him on the shoulder, drawing his attention back to the task at hand. “What?” he shakes his head free of MJ-related-cobwebs.

His best friend puts effort into not smiling. Peter is thankful for small mercies. Ned jerks his head up to the rope lamely hanging above them. “You wanna go first?”

Peter nods, “Yeah. Yeah, sure.” He glances back at MJ who is watching him, observing. Peter works extra hard to hulk up the rope. After all, strictly speaking, he doesn’t have any super powers.

read the rest on ao3

[unspokenfaith]

Let’s Break Up....For Real

Pairing: Peter Parker/Michelle Jones Rating: T Word Count: 2197 Prompt: Fake Relationship (Spideychelle Week Day 4) Summary: Brad seems to be taking every shot with MJ on the school trip, until she rejects him in the most unexpected way. Peter really can’t complain though, not when he’s finally getting everything he ever wanted—even almost forgetting it isn’t real.

AO3

Spilling his perfectly scooped cone of gelato on to the sidewalk was the least of Peter’s concerns. The slight disappointment was only mildly distracting when his attention was entirely devoted to Brad talking MJ up in line. Brad, and his absurdly flawless ability to weasel his way into MJ’s line of vision at the drop of a dime.

Peter hated that he was so intimidated by him, especially since MJ was no more Brad’s than she was his to be jealous over. No matter how many times he told himself that, it never stopped the sharp discomfort in the pit of his stomach.

It’s not even that Brad was doing anything wrong. Peter was no different—finding every chance he could get to strike up a conversation with her, to get her alone, to tell her….That didn’t mean he was going to quit being angry about it.

He watched as Brad handed MJ a cone before taking one for himself. He did not just buy her gelato.

Peter didn’t even realize that his cone was broken into pieces on the table until Ned came and sat down across from him, pointing it out. “Uh, Peter?”

“Sorry,” was all he said, gathering all of the pieces into a pile, then turning to look back at the ice cream line.

“Peter, this has to stop,” Ned said, taking a bite of his own gelato. “Just go over there and talk to her. Join the conversation.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Ned asked.

“Because….look at them. He has it all figured out.”

“Who cares what he’s doing? Don’t you want to know how MJ feels?”

Peter sighed, knowing Ned was right. Brad wasn’t standing between him and MJ. He was.

MJ and Brad walked over towards the tables, easily in earshot now.

“Quick! Act natural,” Peter said quietly.

“I am?” Ned continued eating his gelato. It was times like these that Peter wished he had his suit on. He could’ve used one of the gadgets to...No. That wouldn’t be right. He’d have to stick with eavesdropping like a normal person.

“Do you want to sit here?” Brad asked, gesturing to the table next to Peter and Ned.

“Uh, sure,” MJ said.

She met Peter’s eye for a second. Half a second, and the soft smile on her face made his insides do backflips. He looked away quickly, the smile on her face contagious, and scratched the back of his head.

“Did you see that?” Peter whispered excitedly.

“See what?” Ned asked.

“She smiled at me.” His heart was racing, and the warmth in his chest spread to his face.

“Peter, you’re really bad at acting natural.”

“Thanks, Ned,” he mumbled.

Momentarily distracted, Peter turned his attention back to Brad and MJ’s conversation. Something about a movie...No, a book. Brad was talking her up on one of MJ’s favorite discussions. It was an admirable move.

“I think they have a bookstore not that far from here. I saw it on the way over here,” Brad said.

“Oh, really? I must’ve missed it.” MJ looked back in the direction they all walked from, as though the bookstore were visible from her seat.

“I can take you there after we’re done if you want to check it out.” The smile on Brad’s face made Peter want to “accidentally” spill his gelato, too. Maybe if he wasn’t looking…

MJ blinked in surprise. “Oh, I, uh…”

“We don’t have to—”

“I have a boyfriend!” she blurted out, causing Peter to turn around completely in his chair to face them. Ned nearly choked on his gelato.

That was probably the last answer Brad was expecting. “Oh...MJ, I had no idea.”

She wasn’t even looking at him. “It’s okay.”

“Who is it? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“It’s, uh, it’s…” MJ looked around, her eyes falling on Peter yet again. He was still trying to process what she just revealed when she said clearly, with a bold resolve, “Peter.”

His jaw dropped, and at the same time Ned kicked his shin under the table. She couldn’t have just…

“Peter’s my boyfriend,” MJ repeated. She smiled, giving Peter a look with her eyes darting back and forth between him and Brad.

When he finally caught on to what was happening, he closed his mouth and stood up so fast that his chair fell over.

“Yeah, that’s me. MJ’s boyfriend.” Peter laughed nervously. Ned was hiding his face in his hands.

Brad’s eyes widened, and a small, sadistic part of Peter could not be more pleased with this sudden turn of events.

“Peter? Peter’s your boyfriend? And you guys didn’t tell anyone?”

“Well…” MJ looked at Peter, both of them trying to reach the same answer.

“We just thought with the team and all...we didn’t want things to be weird,” MJ settled on. Peter nodded vigorously, while Brad eyed the two of them.

“Huh. You guys don’t act like you’re together,” he said.

Peter swallowed the lump in his throat as MJ stood up and came over to him. She took his hand with both of hers, causing his skin to tickle, and rested her head on his shoulder. Whatever possessed MJ to do this, he was perfectly happy not to question it.

“Well, that’s the whole point of it being a secret, right?” MJ beamed, squeezing Peter’s hand.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, we’re sorry we kept it from you guys for so long.”

Brad didn’t seem entirely convinced, and Peter couldn’t blame him. His perplexity that this was actually happening—well, sort of—didn’t make him the best actor.

“Well, congrats, guys.” Brad left the table to throw out the rest of his ice cream. Peter almost felt bad for him, too. He was in his position not five minutes ago.

MJ turned on him. “Look, before you say anything. I’m sorry, okay? I panicked and didn’t know what else to do. Brad’s nice and all, but I’m not interested and he just can’t seem to take a hint. It was the only thing I could think of to do. I—”

“Woah, you don’t have to explain. I get it.” He was slightly distracted by the I’m not interested part, and doing his best not to get too ahead of himself.

“Cool, so you’re okay with going along with this for the rest of the trip?”

That snapped Peter back into reality. “Wait, what?!”

“Just until we go home. Then we can pretend we broke up or something. Brad will cool off by then, and I don’t see him as much in school anyway.”

“Only to the end of the trip?” Disappointment seeped into his voice, but he wasn’t sure why. They weren’t really dating, after all. There was nothing to lose.

“Yes,” MJ said. “So you’ll do it?”

Before allowing himself a sensible amount of time to think about it, Peter answered firmly, “Okay, I’ll do it.”

******

Once they got beyond the initial shock, the other team members seemed to be buying Peter and MJ dating, no thanks to Peter. He’s lucky MJ was a surprisingly good actress. Anyone would think she was actually into him. Even Peter caught himself forgetting it was all pretend. It wasn’t until they came back to the hotel at night, when he laid in bed—still reeling from the feeling of MJ’s hand in his, the tickle of her hair on his face when she would whisper in his ear—that he was confronted with the disappointment of reality all over again. For now at least, it would have to do.

“Peter, are you listening?”

Ned’s voice broke him out of his thoughts.

“Hmm, what?”

He sighed. “Dude, have you even been watching the movie?”

Peter turned his attention to TV where The Force Awakens was playing. They watched it all the time, but never got tired of it. Since it was the only Star Wars movie in the free film category, it was the logical thing to do before going to sleep every night.

“Sorry. I’m just...thinking,” Peter said.

“Let me guess, MJ?”

Peter fell back on his bed, throwing his arms out. “It’s just...I feel like I’m not doing this right.”

“Doing what?” Ned asked.

“This whole dating thing. I feel like I’m screwing everything up.”

Ned stared at him blankly. “Peter, you do remember you’re not actually dating MJ, right?”

“Yeah...yeah, I know. I just….it feels like I am, and there’s all this pressure. I feel like I’m not doing enough.”

“Dude, you’ve lost it.”

Peter sighed, grabbing a pillow and holding it over his face. “I just really like her, Ned. I don’t know what to do,” he said in a muffled voice.

“Well, you could just...I don’t know….ask her out for real. You know? Your original plan for this trip.”

He thought about MJ and the way she threw her head back, laughing at a joke Peter didn’t actually make, her soft gaze, the feeling of her cheek on his hand when he brushed the piece of hair that hung down the side of her face. It all felt real, but it didn’t matter if her feelings weren’t. And he wanted real with MJ.

Peter hoisted himself up from the bed and walked toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Ned asked.

“To break up with MJ.”

As he closed the door behind him, Ned yelled, “Okay, but I’m not pausing the movie.”

He looked both ways, checking for Mr. Harrington, who always made rounds to all the rooms before retiring to his own. Everyone knew what the “rounds” were really for, and Peter was breaking his only rule.

Once he was sure the coast was clear, he walked down the hallway to MJ and Betty’s room, stopping in front of the door.

Just do it, Peter.

He took a deep breath as he raised his arm, nearly jumping out of his skin when the door opened itself. MJ stood on the other side, and also jumped at the sight of Peter.

“Okay, dude, you have to knock next time.” MJ threw a glance back at Betty, who was already sound asleep, then turned back to Peter, whispering, “What are you doing here?”

“Can I talk to you?” he asked. “Please?”

She studied his face for a moment before stepping out of the room and closing the door. “Let’s go. I was heading to the vending machine anyway.”

They walked in silence to the end of the hallway, then turned into the small room—more like a closet really—with the vending and ice machines. MJ looked down the hallway again before closing the door.

“What’s up?”

“I….Well….” Peter might have been distracted by how little space and light there was, but he tried to pull himself together.

“You want to break up,” MJ said.

“What? How did you know?”

She shrugged. “I figured the whole fake dating thing would get old really quick. And it did. It’s so tiring.”

Peter laughed anxiously. He’d be lying if that didn’t sting, but it shouldn’t. It’s not real.

“I shouldn’t have put that on you in the first place. It was a lot to ask, you know, making someone pretend to like you.”

He had to say something now.

“MJ, I…”

“Look, you really don’t have to explain. No hard feelings or anything. It was fun, but it wasn’t real.” He thought he caught a twinge of disappointment in her voice, but it was probably his imagination.

“What if it was?” Peter blurted out. MJ tilted her head, but he kept going. “I mean, not the actual dating part. But the...you know…”

The door burst open, Peter and MJ whipping their heads around to find Brad standing there, frozen.

“Oh, damn, sorry guys, I just wanted to get—”

Whatever Brad was going to say went unfinished, because without so much as a warning, MJ grabbed Peter by the shirt, pulling him to her and kissing him. Really kissing him. His face was burning, but he felt like he was floating. It might’ve been a second, or twenty—Peter couldn’t tell, and he didn’t really care—when they pulled apart.

“And….never mind,” Brad said, disappearing down the hallway.

“Well, that was a close one,” MJ said, straightening her shirt.

Peter was completely breathless, staring at her in awe.

“I figured one last hurrah before the break up,” she stated. “You could’ve acted less surprised, but otherwise I thought it was good.”

When his brain was functioning again, he realized MJ didn’t really have to do that. There was no point, not when they were “broken up,” and Brad was just there looking for a midnight snack.

“Well...goodnight, I guess,” MJ said before turning towards the door.

“MJ, wait!”

She looked back at him. “What?”

“What if we….didn’t break up….for real?”

After he said it, he knew it made no sense, but he was hoping she would understand anyway.

But she smiled. That breathtaking smile. “Yeah...yeah, I would like that.”

He caught her blushing before she turned down the hallway, and he held on to that, because it was real.

[tirsu]

Day one - Secret Relationship

               ✎ ✎ ✎ 

There was a knock on the door. And then a voice.

”Michelle darling, are you there?”

MJ looked frightened ”Oh shit. It’s my ma!”

”Your mum? You said your parents wouldn't be home today.” Peter sat up.

”That was the plan! ”MJ jumped out of her bed. ”She can’t get to know that you’re here! Shit, she and pa doesn’t even know I’ve a boyfriend!”

She grabbed Peter by his hands and pulled him up from the bed. Peter was bemused as MJ pushed him towards her wardrobe.

”Go there and be quiet!” MJ said and tried to push Peter into the wardrobe.

”But…” Peter tried to say.

”Pete! Please, just go there!” MJ interrupted her boyfriend

”Yes. I’ll, but MJ…” Peter tried again.

”Shh! Don’t say anything at all!” MJ plead, pushed him into the wardrobe and closed the door.

Peter stood there quietly for a moment before mumbling to himself. ”… but you’re wearing my T-shirt and shorts…”

*********

If there’s mistakes (and typos), please tell me. English isn’t my native language. I’ll fix them (later).

[agentbarton12]

Spideychelle Week 2019 Masterlist

collection of my contribution to spideychelleweek2k19

meet the family au (day 2)

hogwarts au (day 3)

fantasy au (day 7)

[petermj-week]

Only a couple more days until Spideychelle week begins!

On Tumblr, make sure to tag your fanwork as #SpideychelleWeek2k19 within the first five tags so I can find and reblog it over here. If I don't reblog it within a day that means I haven't seen it (Tumblr glitch) in which case you should send me a message, @ the blog, and I'll make sure to reblog it.

On AO3, we have a collection for you to share your fanworks to. Make sure to share to the 2019 sub collection and not the parent collection.

[you-guys--are-losers]

Spideychelle Week: Day Six!

//Second to last day, fam! Thanks to @spideychelleweek for the week of incredible creativity and stepping out of our comfort zones, because I was initially nervous about writing this and now I am SO ready. You guys down for this crap? Because guess what: today is College AU day! 

I wrote one of these before, but we’re gonna try another, and I’m going to use a prompt this time! I’m using a prompt from @veronicabunchwrites again, and this time it’s from their lovely list of college aus!

So, the prompt I’m using is this: “I post an ad looking for someone to be my model for my art project and the interviewing process has been a little awkward until you answer it.” I changed it a bit, just because I’m not comfortable writing someone fully nude, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do a little bit of spicy writing. ;)

Summary: MJ is having a hard time finding a model, so when Peter Parker volunteers to do it for her, MJ is extremely grateful. She’s known him since they went to high school together, so it shouldn’t be too hard, right? 

But as soon as MJ sees those abs, she realizes that nothing about this is going to be easy for her. 

Characters: Michelle Jones x Peter Parker

Word Count: 4,399

Warnings: Sexual tension, college-age stupidity, nervous quips, partial nudity

Sculpted

Screw this,” MJ mutters, shoving her phone away from her and leaning her head back on their couch with a groan.

One of her hands rises to her forehead, shoving her hair back from her face in a frustrated movement as she closes her eyes. “I’m dropping out of art school. I guess I’m gonna have to settle for the lame shit you losers are doing.” 

“You mean computer programming?” Ned hums from the futon across their apartment, not looking up from his laptop. “Yeah, sounds reasonable. I mean, it’s kind of a fallback, major, but, y’know…”

“We both know that after some of the modifications I made to the Bugsuit, I would have no problem getting a scholarship,” MJ points out, still not opening her eyes. In any other setting, with any other group of people, she knows it would sound conceited. But her loser roommates know that she’s screwing with them, and more importantly, they know she’s right. 

“What is it this time?” Peter pipes up, and MJ’s eyes open as he returns from the kitchen with the industrial-sized bag of gummy worms they’ve been working on for a week. “Shading? Digital perspectives? Visualizing a room layout?” He plops down on the other end of the couch, swiping the remote from between them and quickly switching the show from the later seasons of Parks and Rec to The Office. It’s been a running feud between roommates the past few weeks, but MJ is too irritated with her work to even acknowledge it tonight. 

“No,” MJ responds morosely, leaning across the couch to steal a few of the sour, sugary gummies from the bag before she settles back in to explain. “It’s not even the art. It’s the prep, which is not the part I was expecting to have trouble with.” 

“What are you working on?” Ned asks, eyes seizing upon Creed and Meredith as he asks the question. “Is it another of those digital ones? I like those.” 

“No, this one’s an oil painting,” MJ answers, leaning her head on the armrest as she allows herself to sink into the show. “But it’s supposed to be a figure drawing partially in the nude, and-”

Ned’s eyes widen across the room, and a strangled cough of alarm escapes his throat as he whirls to look at her. MJ doesn’t have to look across the couch to know Peter is doing the same-- the sound of the gummy worm bag dropping to the floor more than confirms it for her. 

“It’s just a waist-up of a male model, you testosterone-fuelled monkeys,” MJ remarks simply, taking advantage of the moment to steal the remote Peter has just set down. The two stop staring at her like she has just sprouted another set of arms as she switches the show to Parks and Rec again, and Ned lets out a slow whistle in relief. “Well, if I could find one, anyway.” 

“What do you mean?” Peter says slowly. 

MJ lets out a puff of air through her nose as she settles down again, allowing the beautiful sight of Amy Poehler in a lime-green pantsuit to relax her. Yes… That’s better. Leslie Knope is all that MJ will ever need to calm down. 

“I can’t get anyone to pose for me,” she replies after a moment, letting her eyes close again as she explains. “I need someone with fairly defined chest muscles, since we’re supposed to be working on the shading of human muscle. You’d think it would be easy to find someone with all of the guys I see in the gym every morning, so I put up an ad on the bulletin board asking if anyone was interested.” 

“Oh, yeah, I think I saw that,” Ned says slowly. “Betty pointed it out on the way back from pilates.” 

“You’re doing pilates with Betty?” Peter asks incredulously. “Dude, I don’t even know what that is.” 

“Pilates is what you do when you love someone,” Ned replies sagely, causing MJ to let out a soft groan. 

“Gross,” she comments. “I’d think that you’d be fine without the gym, considering the amount of tonsil tennis you two play. You’re practically Serena and Venus.” 

Peter draws in a sharp breath, and a sudden outburst of coughing fit ensues as Peter nearly inhales a gummy worm. Between the sounds of their best friend hacking up a lung, Ned’s eyes narrow, and he shoots her a look. “Continue with your story about how you’re trying to get a guy half-naked, then.” 

“Gladly.” 

After Peter is no longer in danger of asphyxiating, MJ lays out her dilemma. “The problem is that I can’t get anyone who’s serious about it. All of the messages I’ve been getting have been assholes who think I’m looking for a hookup. Please… Like this is some high schooler’s YA story.” 

“I mean, it does sound kind of sexual,” Ned points out. “I think the words ‘nude model’ will do that for you, even if it’s just above the waist.”

Peter lets out a final sigh as he catches his breath, closing the bag of gummy worms. MJ tries to feel bad that she may have killed his gummy worm craving for the evening, but really, she’s just glad there’s more left for her. She’s expecting him to make some comment about how none of them checked to see if he would be okay, and she is already preparing her comeback (“Please, Parker. We know we don’t have to worry about your super-esophagus.”) when he says something that catches her completely off-guard.

“I mean… I could do it.” 

MJ’s eyes fly open, and both MJ and Ned turn to him in shock. Peter’s eyes widen as he finds himself the object of both of their attention at once, and he raises his hands defensively. “What?” he stammers. “I’ve got muscles!” 

“I know,” Ned says, speaking up before MJ has to, “but that’s just… Weird. I think MJ wants to draw, like, a statue-bod kinda guy.” 

Peter’s cheeks heat up, and he looks slightly miffed now. “I can lift a bus, in case you forgot,” he points out, his tone slightly flustered. “And-and I held a ferry boat together.” 

“For, like, two seconds,” Ned muses. 

Before Peter can fire back, however, the unthinkable word drops from MJ’s lips: 

“Okay.” 

Both of them turn to her this time, and now she is the focus of shocked attention. Her cheeks heat up, and MJ turns to the TV, fixing her eyes on the screen and praying they take it for nonchalance.

“What did you just say?” Ned stammers. 

“I said he can do it,” MJ replies, forcing any breathiness out of her voice. “This thing is due in two weeks, I need a model yesterday. And if I don’t have to deal with guys sliding into my DMs and getting my hopes up, that’s a bonus.” 

For a minute, things are quiet. Then, finally, Peter says, “Okay. When do we start?” 

MJ glances away from the TV and makes eye contact with Peter, trying not to notice his bright red ears and the slight catch in his voice. For a minute, she nearly forgets to answer his question. “You can show up to the studios on Friday at four, if that works. Um, unless it doesn’t. I could also do Saturday, or Sunday… Or, um, Monday, right. Because that’s what comes next-” 

“No, uh, Friday works,” Peter interrupts, running a hand through his hair. They both look away at the same time, and for a second silence stretches out as they vehemently avoid looking at one another. MJ tries to focus on the beautiful goddess that is Leslie Knope, but after about thirty seconds she finally gets up. 

“I’m gonna head to bed early,” she decides, not looking at either of them as she chucks the remote at Ned. It narrowly misses his head, and Ned fumbles with it for a moment before catching it. This gives MJ the time she needs to make a quick exit, and then her bedroom door shuts behind her, and she is alone. 

In the dim light of her room, MJ quickly changes into a pair of sweats and a loose t-shirt, trying not to think about what just happened. Nothing happened, she reminds herself as she slides under the covers of her bed, shoving her head onto her pillow. I have a model. That’s it. 

It’s not weird; it shouldn’t be. They’ve been friends since high school, and MJ has seen him in that stupid suit enough times to know that his muscles are developed. It’s not anything uncomfortable. 

But still, the voice in her head whispers, you’ve never had to focus exclusively on the abs. And the pecs. And the obliques, and the- MJ shuts that train of thought down with a frustrated groan. 

Whatever. Peter is attractive; she’s known that since high school. It’s not new, and it’s not weird to admit it. It would be weirder if she denied it. She’s not blind; I mean, she’d expect him to admit she’s attractive, too, because she knows she is. It’s just objective truth. 

Why, then, does the idea of him admitting that fill her with tingly warmth? 

No, nope. Bed. It’s bedtime. MJ repeats it over and over again in her head, Bed time, bed time, for the better part of ten minutes. 

When she finally falls asleep, MJ dreams of brush strokes and blending and oil paint sliding across her skin, of painting on a canvas of freckles and stretch marks and dimples as fingers massage pigment into the contours of her body, making it permanent. 

-

Friday comes with a vengeance, seeming to hurtle into existence a million times faster than any day has before. 

It probably helps that, over the course of the week, MJ forces herself to think of anything but Friday. She focuses herself on schoolwork, social life, and her two best friends, who luckily make everything return to normal the morning after the decision has been made. 

The project fades into Ned’s distant memory, and Peter doesn’t bring it up at all over the course of the week’s antics. In fact, with how little they even mention school, MJ wouldn’t have been surprised if Peter forgets to even show up. 

But, sure enough, 2:00 finds MJ in her favorite studio in the building, and 2:03 brings Peter Parker into the room. He finds MJ there, with a canvas on an easel, setting up her paints and her pallet. Across from the canvas is an old sofa, something that she found in the back of the studio and figured would serve their purposes. The windows of the studio are open to let in natural light, and the sofa is positioned beneath a skylight in a way that will allow her to paint him with lighting from the angle she wants. 

“Um, hi,” he greets her, offering her a grin. The smile relaxes MJ because it is familiar. It is dorky and earnest and slightly sheepish, and all of those things are so Peter that she knows this will be alright. 

“‘Sup, loser,” she greets, nodding in his direction before returning to her pallet. She’s wearing old painting clothes, and her hair is pulled back into a messy sort of ponytail that will keep it out of her face while she works. She has a habit of getting herself a little bit streaked with paint when she’s not paying attention, and it’s a pain to get out of her hair. 

Peter begins to walk around the room, studying the various tools and the setup. MJ has to keep herself from subtly observing him as he does it, even though she wants to take in the endearing wonder written on his face. 

“This place is cool,” he comments, his voice relaxed and curious as he studies a posing chart hanging on the wall behind her. “Do you come here a lot?” 

“For most of my projects, yeah,” MJ hums. “It’s my favorite studio, so I may or may not have started a rumor that someone died in here so it’s always available.” 

Peter snorts in amusement behind her, and though MJ isn’t looking, she can’t keep away a grin now. “Why didn’t you ask the ghost to pose for you?” he asks. 

“Well, it was an axe murder, so that might be a bit messy.” 

Peter laughs for real this time, and then for a moment, they lapse into a comfortable silence. Peter watches as MJ begins mixing her highlight, and then he queries, “So… How do you wanna do this?” 

MJ is careful to control her urge to stiffen. Right… This is why they’re both here. It’s no big deal. 

“Um, right,” she breathes, glancing at him for a moment before returning to the pallet. “So you can, uh, take your shirt off.” 

“You’re not gonna buy me dinner first?” Peter jokes. His cheeks are pink, however, and his voice is slightly constricted as he pulls his shirt off, and MJ hears the fabric drop to the floor. It takes all of the self-control in her body to refrain from looking. 

“Nah, not unless you want the cold paella in my bag,” she hums. “I think it’s from, like, yesterday.” 

“I’ll pass,” Peter comments, and MJ grins. For a second, she forgets about her situation and looks up. 

Craaaaap. 

To preface: MJ knew that Peter was kind of jacked. She has seen the muscles through the suit before, has seen them in action on Youtube videos, whatever. She is supposed to be prepared. 

She is most certainly not. Nothing could prepare her for this. 

Her eyes find it immediately: Peter Parker’s muscular chest, standing before her in all its glory. His jeans ride slightly low on his hips, meaning that the ‘v’ of his abdomen is what catches her eye first, more defined than it was on any of the example sketches. She hurriedly drags her eyes away from that, up higher, but that isn’t any better. If she looks there, she has to focus on the clearly defined abs that are staring her in the face, begging her to touch them to see if they’re as firm as they look. It doesn’t get any less defined as her eyes travel up his body, to defined pecs and muscular arms that cause her to swallow, quickly looking anywhere else. 

Finally, her eyes find his face. Peter’s cheeks are pink, but his gaze is awfully intense as it meets her own, causing her heart to pound faster than it already was. 

“I- Uh- Um, right,” MJ stammers, forcing her eyes to give him a quick once-over as if she was only examining them from an artistic standpoint. “Alright. Yep, that’ll do.” In her own ears, her voice sounds an octave too high as she begins to mix the colors on the pallet, not looking up. “You can, uh, sit on the couch, I’ll tell you how to position yourself-” 

“MJ.” 

Peter’s voice interrupts her, and MJ can barely breathe as she looks up. When she does, he’s grinning sheepishly. “Shouldn’t I get oiled up first?” 

It’s a bad joke, but it causes MJ to laugh anyway. She’s grateful to think about something, anything other than the muscles that seem to be calling her name, the ones she’s somehow going to have to depict without being blinded by all of their splendor.

“Shut up, loser,” she instructs as she continues mixing. “If you keep talking, I’m gonna charge you a commission fee.”

“I’m the one doing this for you,” he points out playfully as he takes a seat on the sofa. “It’s not like I want to hang this in my room.” 

“Why not? It’ll be a tasteful layout. We’ll do some pin-up poses.” MJ examines him, and for a moment, she thinks maybe she can do this. “Alright. I want you to turn a little to your right, but keep your legs straight. Then flex for me.” She’s got this. 

Peter obeys her, and MJ’s blood rushes to her head. 

Nope. Nope. She does not got this. 

After he’s in place, MJ busies herself with getting music playing on her phone. She needs something, anything to occupy her mind as she does this. “Sunflower” by Post Malone starts playing, and almost immediately, MJ relaxes. She looks up, and this time, she manages to keep her cool as she studies the shade of his skin tone. Sure, she’s never gonna be able to unsee this, but for now, she can do it. 

After she’s mixed the paint, they settle into a rhythm, and then MJ loses herself in the work. She is completely focused on the art: the colors, the blending, the highlights, how she wants to do the shadow. Each stroke is precise, intentional… Everything is exactly where she wants it, and every step is clear to her. 

Sure, the muscles are rather lovely. But as long as she steels herself before looking up, she manages to keep herself from drooling over them for as long as it takes her to make a quick assessment and return to the work. 

The muscles are a new variable, something she hasn’t had to battle with before. But the work? The work she knows, the work she understands. Its beat is one she has heard a million times, and it carries her along with ease. 

An hour or so passes, with the silence stretching on comfortably. Every so often, Peter warns her that he has a muscle cramp, and MJ watches carefully so that she can guide him back to the position after he’s adjusted a bit. Peter is a good model. Sure, he has to move a bit more than most of the people they’ve painted in studies, but he also doesn’t complain. He just follows her direction, letting his eyes wander the room or sometimes close as he soaks in the sun. 

And, every so often, MJ wonders if she can feel those eyes on her. 

It’s about half an hour in when MJ looks up from her canvas, really looks, for the first time since she posed him. There are flecks of paint all over her fingers and upper arm from where she carefully used a nail to remove an excess of pain, or just from when she forgot about the pallet in her hand while adjusting the canvas and supplies as the light changed. Her hair is determined to escape from her ponytail, it seems, and it hovers on the edge of her vision in several curly tendrils that she ignores. She knows she makes faces while she’s concentrating, and between the paint on her clothes, hands, and a spot by her temple where she brushed away some hair, the stiffness of her body and neck, and the mess of her hair, MJ knows she looks disheveled. 

That’s why, when she looks up and find him studying her like he’s been studying the beautiful prints of art on the walls, she stops still. 

His eyes, when they meet hers, hold the warmth that makes them Peter’s, but they also hold something else. Whatever it is in insistent, piercing as it works its way to her through their shared gaze, and penetrating as it seems to search her from head to toe. 

Whatever it is takes her breath away. 

MJ draws in a sharp breath, and her sudden change of posture causes Peter to stiffen, too. His eyes go wide upon the realization that he has been caught staring. However, he doesn’t look away. After balking for a moment, his gaze actually becomes more intense, almost as though he is determined to prove himself. 

MJ sets down her brush, and Peter’s eyes track her motion expectantly as she turns to look back at him again. 

“Peter,” she finally says, her tone tight and controlled. 

“Yeah?” Something earnest enters his eyes, then his voice, too, as he waits for her to respond. 

“You moved.” 

When he realizes what she means, his face falls for a fraction of a second before he becomes composed again. “O-oh, right. Um, let me just-” He attempts to take up his former position, and MJ busies herself comparing it with the likeness on canvas in order to ignore the warmth in her cheeks. After looking from his position, to the painting, and then back to him again, MJ shakes her had. 

“Not quite,” she says slowly. “You need to twist more at the waist.” 

Peter attempts to angle his body more to the side, but he still is twisting his upper body more than his lower body. MJ watches, then shakes her head again, biting her lip. “Nah, it’s more-- here.” 

MJ sets her pallet on the floor and strides over to the sofa. She is painfully, painfully aware of the amount of Peter’s bare skin in front of her, bright in the golden sun, but she struggles to ignore it as she sits on the ground in front of him and raises her hand to hover in front of his abs. 

“You need to twist more here,” she says, gesturing to the muscles. 

He’s already moving, however, so rather than her gesture hovering in front of him, her loose hand crashes into his muscles. MJ’s eyes widen as her the palm of her hand presses against his lower abdomen, and her whole body stiffens for a moment before she can register that she should pull back. The muscles are warm beneath her fingertips, solid and firmer than she could have imagined. 

“MJ-” 

She pulls her hand back immediately, but a sinking feeling enters her chest as she realizes what happened. Her paint-covered fingertips have left smears of paint across his skin, the highlight that MJ was attempting to scrape off her knife with a nail before she looked up. The paint clings to him, and instinctively, MJ reaches out to brush it away. 

All she succeeds in doing is rubbing it in further with fingertips that dance across his skin. MJ can barely breathe, and her head is spinning as she tries again, only making it worse. “Shit, Parker, I’m sorry,” she stammers, shaking her head. The loose curls go flying, and a few brush against his skin from where she is seated. “I forgot about it, let me get-” 

“MJ.” 

Slowly, MJ raises her eyes to his, her breath caught in her throat. 

Peter is staring down at her, his lips slightly parted as his eyes scan her countenance. His cheeks are crimson, and he still looks like her loser as he blinks several times, taking a sharp breath as his eyes explore her face. There is awe in his eyes, and a hesitant gleam, as he looks down at her. She can’t look away, can’t breathe, can’t even move her paint-covered hand from where it lingers on his abs. 

Peter opens his mouth to speak, then closes it. His hand finds her other hand, one with streaks of wet paint on the palm where she was testing colors. The paint transfers from her hand to his as he links their fingers together, and she exhales as their fingers lace into a lattice. 

“You have paint all over you, now,” she breathes, blinking once, then twice. 

Peter swallows, his eyes not moving. He looks as if he regrets even having to blink as he drinks in her eyes. “Then…” His voice falters, and so Peter swallows and tries again in a voice that is slightly raspy, catching in his throat. 

“Then what’s the harm in a little bit more?” 

Before she knows it, MJ is standing, and Peter’s hand in hers helps guide her to her feet. She does not let go of his hand. The fingers on his skin dance across his lower chest experimentally as she looks into his eyes, leaving little trails of pale pink in their wake. Her eyes don’t leave his, and his skin is warm underneath her fingers as her hand travels greedily up his chest, taking its sweet time. Peter’s eyes flutter shut and he leans into th contact, breath hitching whenever her touch grows heavier.

Finally, after she has explored his chest in detail, her arm snakes around his neck. Her hand plows a path through his hair, lightly tugging on the curls to bring him closer to her as she leans down slightly. Her lips crash into his, then, and their linked hands rise as Peter tugs his free to cup her face. Paint kisses her cheekbone as Peter caresses it with a thumb, and her other hand is happy to join the first in flecking his brown locks with pink and white. His other hand impatiently pulls her hair free of the ponytail, causing her to hum against his lips, tipping her head so that their lips fit together more closely. 

For one slow, delicious moment, MJ drinks him in, and he does the same for her. The kiss is insistent and intense, and more than anything, it’s an exploration. Her lips learn the dance of his own soft ones, and his hand traces the contours of her face, blazing its own line of highlight across her cheek and down her jaw. 

Finally, when they both need to come up for air, MJ breaks the kiss apart. Her breath comes in greedy gasps, drinking in the air of the studio as the golden light sinks into their skin, turning the shadows longer. The paint is cool and prickly on her skin as it begins to draw, and a smile crosses MJ’s swollen lips as she drinks in the strange sensation, eyes closed. 

“Told you you should’ve oiled me up.” 

Peter’s cheeky comment causes a laugh to leave MJ’s lips, closely followed by an insistent hum and she dives in for more. 

Maybe she has a project she should be working on… But, then, MJ has found a new canvas, and one that she much prefers. After all, Peter Parker really is a masterpiece… And MJ looks forward to studying every shadow, every contour, and every new perspective of her best friend in detail with her artist’s eye. 

After all, painting may be rewarding, but in the warmth of the studio, MJ decides that when it comes to Peter Parker, she prefers being the canvas to being the artist.

[tomato-hollandaise]

Spideychelle Classic Hollywood AU

[forasecondtherewedwon]

On the Subject of Your Subject Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: E/NSFW Word count: 5717

Spideychelle Week Day 6: College AU

Summary: MJ's spending her summer taking yet another art class, but it's not about the college credit, it's about the practice. She's considering how to fix a sketch when she overhears some classmates discussing their work. While the work might be their own, MJ hears enough to know that the subject most certainly is not. It's time for this art studio wallflower to stake a claim on Spider-Man.

MJ was very observant. It was one of the two things that had remained constant as time went by (faster all the time, she swore)―the other being the boyfriend she’d had since her junior year of high school. Right now, she was hoping it was the observing thing that was going to eventually get her a job. Oh, she was sure that the boyfriend could get her a job if she asked, but it would almost definitely require crippling overtime, a wardrobe full of metal, and a readiness to go starry-eyed with hero-worship at the mention of the name ‘Tony Stark.’ Or at least that was the cue she was getting from him. The boyfriend. Peter.

But the job, yeah. So, what she was doing didn’t exactly look like laying the foundation for steady employment right now, like, per say, but between the three years of college still ahead of her, bursaries, and some additional bankrolling from her mother the doctor, MJ was going to use art school to turn her detention caricatures into a career.

Something she’d observed since starting college was that not everybody wanted to be there. MJ found it totally disturbing (if not occasionally warranting a pity laugh) that so many people either barely showed up for classes or only showed up; in her opinion, the former were fledgling adults still acting like children and the latter were today’s youth already clocking in and out like weary middle-aged suits.

Meanwhile, she couldn’t get enough. Couldn’t get enough studio time. Couldn’t get enough of her ideas on paper. Enough charcoal under her fingernails. Enough standing behind a canvas until her feet ached, or curved with feral possessiveness around a drawing pad on her lap. Enough lines drawn and redrawn and redrawn and redrawn and redrawn.

So MJ had completed year one (her mom bought a very fancy cake that they ate with their feet up on the coffee table at home, using forks which neither of them could absolutely confirm were clean, since between an on-call doctor’s schedule and a student’s, nobody had exactly been on top of loading and emptying the dishwasher) and enrolled in a summer class. It was figure drawing, which, yes, she’d already taken as it was a mandatory class―arguably the class upon which all other art classes depended―but while figure drawing had finished with MJ, MJ had not finished with figure drawing. She felt that it was impossible to overlearn the basics, plus the professor she’d had the first time around had been a dick. In fact, MJ believed that there had not been a bigger dick known to humankind since Michelangelo got up close and personal with David.

The summer prof was a marked improvement. Less ego, more encouragement. More understanding, less likely to make MJ want to flip her easel and ram one of its legs up their… Warhol. And with fewer students enrolled during the warmer months, there were fewer classes running, and therefore more studio time, which she took gleeful advantage of, with a territorial staking-out of the best spot in the room and the nasty glare she sent towards people who were too friendly. She was gleeful on the inside.

Was that boyfriend mopey about her choosing the art life instead of spending her summer with him? Absolutely not. Peter had his own thing going on (this was how MJ downplayed the daily saving of lives). Besides, they found ways to see each other. Like how she bought the famous Spider-Man a hot dog in Central Park after he turned one end of the skipping ropes for a couple of kids playing Double Dutch. Or how he scared the bejesus out of her while she was painting alone in the studio and glanced around to see what was throwing a shadow on her canvas (just a dork waving at her through the window―a window on the fourth floor).

They had to be careful when Peter was in the suit; it wasn’t really safe for any of those freaks (‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes,’ or whatever) to make potentially skulking bad guys aware that they had less-than-super friends, kids, girlfriends, etc. Lucky for Peter, MJ was incredibly good at careful. It was worth it for the rest of the time that they got to be together without the suit.

The suit wasn’t her problem at the moment though. There was no article of clothing (pioneered by Tony Stark or otherwise) that was her problem. Actually, the lack of clothes was the problem, because she was hesitating, hand hovering over a nude sketch that she wanted to fix. MJ squinted. She just couldn’t see how. A trio of bohemians across the room sent up giggles like scattered pigeons and MJ closed her eyes in irritation. She opened them and stared at the sketch. Yeah, maybe she could stand to watch something else for a while.

With a little subtle angling, she created a line of sight to the other girls. Looked like two of them were clustered around the easel of the third. They were teasing her. Ah, but this particular student―MJ had observed―liked to be teased. It wasn’t the common mocking of the scholarship kid or the uninventive, elementary school, lunch money shakedown. It was that sunny, sticky teasing that left extroverts flushed from all the attention. Yuck.

MJ watched the three friends, studied their postures and dynamic. Everything was food for art. Reading their body language might help her sort out her difficulties with this sketch. She assessed them with her ears as well as her eyes; art might have been a largely visual experience for the viewer, but for her, shaping a piece in ways that could never be understood in the passing sweep of a gaze, it was multisensory. Peter might have taught her a little something about that. He claimed that she had her own enhancements, even without the super-biology.

From their words and the giddy pitch, it was obvious that they were tackling the same type of project that MJ was: a nude. She directed her face downward, towards her page, as she rolled her eyes. Art models were just people, not porn stars. Students at this level should really understand that, MJ felt. Giggling over a bared breast or the muscular indent of a man’s ass was amateurish.

She rolled her shoulders, trying to shrug off the judgement. Ok, maybe these three were inelegant twerps, but who said twerps couldn’t be art? If Dalí could find inspiration in a loaf of bread, then MJ could see how she progressed with a vapid, unoriginal muse. As long as her own work didn’t turn out derivative, the girls could present as clichéd a scene of immaturity as they pleased. MJ listened harder and let her grip loosen on her pencil. The lines would come when she was ready.

“You didn’t,” Girl One insisted.

“Of course she didn’t.” Ooh, bit more of a petty tone from Girl Two. “She just wants the attention. She can’t get the grades, so she’s hoping to cause enough of a scandal that her work is noticed and somebody pays big bucks for it. Who gives a fuck about a degree when some dude drops a million and puts you on the map?”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not that big of a deal,” said The Artist Herself. MJ blinked a few times in case any of that false modesty was airborne, keeping her eyes free of the irritants her ears couldn’t help but admit.

“Everyone’s going to freak,” Girl One squealed effervescently.

“Are you sure I shouldn’t stay quiet instead? Just keep this piece for myself or… maybe give it to him?”

“You can’t! This would be, like, a cultural phenomenon.”

Don’t get ahead of yourselves, MJ thought wryly.

Girl Two snorted, earning her a moment of approval from the observer.

“But no one’s even going to know it’s him,” the skeptic argued.

MJ frowned. All of their models this term had been female. Sure, it was reasonable that the artist could’ve had someone else pose for her―either professionally or casually (though MJ didn’t have that kind of relationship with any of her friends)―but it sounded like the girl’s plan A was to submit her piece as part of her coursework. That didn’t add up. Their instructor preferred that the students work from the same subject, one that the professor themselves was familiar with so that they could properly assess the fidelity of the rendering.

“They’ll know by the title,” The Artist Herself asserted.

“You’ll still have to give him a face, Mel.”

“It’s kind of avant-garde this way though, right?” Girl One’s comment was plenty chipper.

“It’s a copout,” Girl Two stated. “If you really slept with him and you’re prepared to tell the tale, you can’t just call the thing ‘Spider-Man in Repose’ and leave it at that.”

They carried on with their playful chatter, but MJ’s hearing had fuzzed out. What they were saying―that this art bitch had nailed her dork of a boyfriend―was impossible. She didn’t need to endorse the ridiculous claim by actually asking Peter if it was true. No, MJ wasn’t heartbroken or confused, she was angry. Didn’t they, any one of them, consider Spider-Man’s privacy? The respect he had earned as a public figure? He wasn’t just a mask, or a picture of that mask on a souvenir t-shirt. This would be libel if Spider-Man’s real identity was known to the general public. Little kids needed to see their hero on the morning news helping old ladies across the street and rescuing animals from burning buildings, not as the subject in some horny coed’s mediocrity.

“―it seriously. This is probably the only case where people are more interested in seeing a celebrity’s face than his dick.”

The pencil fell from MJ’s fingers and she didn’t pick it up, more focused on controlling her expression so she’d look unaffected if any of them glanced over.

“Sandra, stop,” Girl One twittered.

MJ supported the sentiment, if not the tone of voice. She lifted her foot and deliberately stomped on the end of her pencil, snapping the point. Uh oh, it looked like she’d have to go to the supply room to find a sharpener. It was located through a door half a dozen feet behind the other girls. Convenient for sneaking a look at whatever was on that canvas, which would enable her to come up with a tailored plan to fix this.

She began with a loud sigh and a forlorn look at her broken pencil. Again, not trying to be quiet, she pushed her sketch aside and crossed the room. The girls were still talking. Maybe they hadn’t forgotten MJ was there. Maybe they were crossing their fingers that she was a shit-stirrer. A patient zero for the gossip they were hoping to benefit from spreading. She circled around them and darted into the supply room, swinging the door only partially shut while she rattled a box of pencils before coaxing as much noise as possible out of the most ancient-looking sharpener she could find.

“Would you do him again?” Girl One asked.

“If she says no,” Girl Two cut in, “then she’s definitely making it up. Who the hell would hit-it-and-quit-it with Spider-Man? Especially if he’s that ripped under the suit.”

MJ crept to the threshold and looked in their direction. The Artist Herself shifted from one foot to the other, contemplating her own work, and MJ finally got a look at the unfinished painting. In its technical aspects, it was fine. Not accomplished, not garbage. So, better than she’d been expecting. It just wasn’t Peter. Even without a face, it wasn’t Peter. Peter was ripped―not that these people knew that, or ever would―but this wasn’t his body as she’d come to know it. Which was extremely well.

Grinning, MJ hurried back to her sketchbook and flipped it shut. Watching the girls from a different angle had made her consider a new approach to her block with her work in progress, but that wasn’t what propelled her out of the studio. She had an amazing idea.

\\\

“I don’t see how this solves the problem,” Peter said. “It still generates Spider-Man gossip.”

“But if it involves me, no one will believe it,” MJ emphasized, grabbing his shoulder. “I’m background noise in that studio. I’m furniture, Peter. I’ve never tried to be the center of attention and we can use that.”

He narrowed his eyes, but she could see the trust in them, like always.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. You’re just confused because this is a plan and those are foreign to you.” She gave him a sad smile and released his shoulder with a consoling squeeze.

“Hey―what? I-I plan,” he said defensively, crossing his arms over his chest. Yep, this was the body of her Spider-Man, not that generic canvas Adonis.

“You’re impulsive and adaptable. You can think on your feet in the middle of a fight, but, babe, you don’t plan.”

“But what about―”

“Peter.”

“There was that time I―”

“Peter.”

He sighed.

“Ok, when are we gonna do this?”

\\\

The research was really only two steps: showing up on campus at different times to learn when The Artist Herself (and co.) normally arrived, and figuring out how to unlatch one of the large studio windows. Both of these elements fit extremely easily into MJ’s schedule.

The friends’ interest in the Spider-Man portrait seemed to rise and fall and rise again; frequently, they actually worked on their own pieces instead of gossiping. Ok, instead of only gossiping. They still gossiped. Whenever it wasn’t about the unfathomably unrealistic Spider-Man affair, MJ drowned them out with headphones and made progress on her sketch.

She gave it a week―the recon―because that was a standard length of time and the mission felt more scientific that way. Ugh, these were Peter’s words. Her head was full of Avengers vernacular these days, all mixed up with a spectrum of graphite hardnesses and the names of a couple dozen French landscape painters. That was how MJ really knew her body wasn’t going to one day reject Peter like a mismatched blood donation. He’d become part of her mental vocabulary, and that was her sanctuary.

She hustled him through the propped-open window and into her physical sanctuary, the studio, on a Friday. Midmorning and the light was clear and white. The room would transform around 4:30pm when a hot afternoon glow inflamed the space through westward-facing glass, but this earlier, crisper light was good for a lot of things. Uniform illumination across textured sheets of watercolour paper. Fidelity of oil paint colours roughly blended and scraped with a palette knife. Minimal shadows cast as Peter’s feet, saran-wrapped into his Spidey suit, landed on the wood floor. With heavier footfalls, thanks to her black combat boots, MJ led him to the supply room and shut them in.

“Cutting it a little close,” she complained, glancing at her watch.

“I was on my way,” Peter said, gesturing widely (what kept MJ calm was the knowledge that his superhuman agility would make sure he caught anything he knocked over before it hit the ground), “and then there was this guy trying to grand theft auto a flour truck out in front of this bakery.” He pointed like the bakery was hiding just across the room behind the industrial-sized jugs of linseed oil. Peter deflated, mind snapped swiftly into the present. “Long story short, the bakery owner promised me free bagels if you wanna go after.”

MJ nodded, trying to tame her fond smirk. She would’ve loved him just as much if his biology had been totally garden-variety, but Peter in the suit―eyes of his mask widening as he relayed his latest crime bust―was adorable.

“After.”

“Ok… ok, great.”

Peter attempted to lean casually into a stack of collapsed easels, which squeaked loudly across the floor, threatening a noisy topple, before he jerked upright and steadied them. The way he’d never gotten calmer about her saying yes to a date was pretty adorable too.

“So, when are they―”

MJ heard the door to the studio bang open and slapped a hand across the mouth area of her boyfriend’s mask. Her palm didn’t actually obstruct his words, but the action silenced him. He tensed at her side as they tilted their heads, listening. A more minor part of the mission―dammit, plan―had been for MJ to make sure there were enough easels, brushes, and various other tools of the trade out on and around the counter that spanned one wall of the studio; the last thing she and Peter needed was an unsuspecting audience member striding into the supply room. Oh, those girls would know they were in here, but it wasn’t going to be by accident.

“You don’t think they’ll leave when they hear us?”

MJ shivered―Peter’s lips were right against her ear. She hadn’t heard him peel up his mask and lean in. Turning her head slightly, she tried to respond just as softly.

“Not these three. They’re shamelessly curious.”

“You’re sure?”

God, her face was getting hot. He was just talking to her. Talking at a whisper. Fine, it was kinda sexy, though there were things besides his last-second questioning of her brilliant plan that she’d rather have heard in that voice.

“You didn’t see the painting,” MJ reminded him.

“Yeah, there’s that,” Peter allowed.

They waited a few minutes longer, enduring the insignificant chatter and grating laughter coming from the studio. MJ tried to keep as still as Peter. Gradually, the human sounds lessened and were replaced by the glop of a brush through too much paint, the hiss of that same brush across a taut canvas. She looked at him and nodded.

“We’re starting?” he murmured.

MJ turn away from the door and smacked the center of his chest, turning the Spidey suit into a slack mass that Peter reflexively caught in his elbows before it could fall all the way down. She raised her eyebrows. Peter let the suit drop.

“This isn’t very romantic,” he complained quietly, yanking his feet free and piling the suit on the lid of a large tub of gesso.

“Yeah, well, we can’t exactly do this with the suit on.”

“The mask?”

MJ assessed his face, everything below his nose uncovered.

“I think half-off is fine, in case they barge in. The lower part of your face isn’t very distinctive.”

She twisted towards the door once more. At this point, they were supposed to be past discussion. Peter really didn’t understand the concept of planning something in advance, even when they had planned this in advance.

“Again with the lack of romance,” he griped, suddenly pressed up right behind her. Immediately, MJ’s heart was pounding more fiercely.

“Trying to be practical, nerd.”

Her voice didn’t come out overly stern, not with Peter’s hands touching down very lightly on her hips.

“But what do I always say when we order pizza and you try to get me to choose between bacon and ham?”

“You don’t need that much meat on a pizza. It’s high in sodium.”

His sigh ruffled the hair hanging in a loose ponytail against the back of her neck.

“No, that’s what you always say. What do I say?”

Pressing her palm to the door, MJ let her eyes slide closed. One of Peter’s hands had ducked under the hem of her shirt. She felt the side of his thumb skim her abdomen.

“That you prefer both,” she replied.

He made a low agreeing noise, flattened his palm against her for a second, then rotated his hand to unbutton her jeans. There was a surge within her. Peter always turned her on, but this was a fresh excitement. Subtly, MJ pressed her hips forward. She heard him breathe harder. His other hand moved from her hip to grasp the waist of her jeans while he unzipped them. She could feel it. She could feel him behind her, rising and thickening. Dipping his hands into her undone jeans, Peter nosed her hair out of the way to kiss her for the first time since they’d entered the room, on the side of her neck.

“I think I prefer both too,” she said.

She felt his teeth as he smiled and pushed against his crotch in response. His groan was abbreviated to a grunt when he clamped his mouth shut; the clench of Peter’s jaw bumped her throat. MJ grinned to herself and rolled into him again. There wasn’t any hesitancy as his fingers pried the thin elastic edge of her underwear away from her skin and plunged one hand beneath it. She gasped aloud and the fact that they were doing this for a reason came back to her. That didn’t mean being overheard had to be the only reason.

Because MJ knew it was one of Peter’s weaknesses, she grasped his wrist, slowly smoothing her hand down to lay flat on the back of his, and urged it further. He panted, kissing her neck, more loosely this time. Reaching up and back with her other hand, she toyed with the little flick of hair at back of his neck, right where it started to curl if he went too long between haircuts―exposed below the peeled up mask. With a shudder, Peter stroked a finger through her increasing arousal. Her hand tensed on his. A subtle widening of her stance wouldn’t be quite so subtle to the guy whose super-senses allowed him to notice the tiniest details even when distracted, but so be it. It wasn’t like he didn’t already know how she wanted him to touch her.

She turned her head, disengaging Peter’s before bringing him back just as quickly with a thorough kiss. Continuously, MJ’s fingers stroked his hairline. Goosebumps spread across the back of his neck.

“Let me know,” she said in a teasing voice, pausing to lick his lower lip, “if I’m being too romantic.”

Peter’s lips smiled against hers.

“And you tell me…” His mouth remained open, questioning almost, as he traced her opening with the tip of his finger. MJ exhaled roughly. “…if I get too practical.”

With that, Peter withdrew his hand (she would not admit to actually fucking whimpering in disappointment), grabbed her hips, and spun her, forcing her back against the door. The resultant thud was followed by confused-sounding voices from their prey in the studio. Exhilarated more than panicked, MJ looked her boyfriend sternly in the eyes of his mask.

“We need to make more noise, now, before they come to investigate,” she murmured.

Appearing to barely make contact with his fist, Peter forced another thump out of the door. MJ rolled her eyes, heartrate dropping.

“Not like that. They’ll just think somebody’s locked in here.”

“Like what then?”

“Like… sex-type noises,” she said, gesturing vaguely before folding her arms around his neck, fingers back to playing with his hair.

The only problem with Peter’s improvising was that he didn’t give her enough time to check him out―wearing nothing but his boxers and folded-up mask―before he did it. He just stepped close and snatched the jeans and underwear down her legs, then cupped his hand between them. MJ panted in surprise and reawakened desire. It wasn’t loud enough. They both knew it.

Necessity was supposed to be the mother of invention, but she figured the smirk on Peter’s face right before he stroked his finger inside her was necessity’s other child. MJ sighed in pleasure and paired it with a look that said, about time, nerd. Though he dug in deeper, he would only curl his finger slightly, making her hips wriggle and, consequently, bump against the door.

Shit, there were footsteps heading their way. Peter had it handled―MJ flushed retroactively at her mental double-entendre―pressing another finger into her and hooking both firmly. She let out a genuine wail.

From the other side of the door, a hysterical giggle.

MJ didn’t care what they said, just that the girls stayed in the studio―that was vital. Rather than straining to hear the specific words constructing the scandalized tone, she pulled Peter closer. Running a palm down his chest, she had him faintly trembling before she suddenly grasped his erection through his boxers. He groaned loudly enough to send a prickle down MJ’s spine. Now the listeners would know there were two people in here, instead of a lone pervert masturbating to the sight of uniformly sharpened coloured pencils. (She did enjoy being surrounded by beautiful new art supplies, just not in a way that made her want to go American Pie on them.)

Biting lightly along Peter’s jaw (so maybe she thought the lower part of his face was more special and alluring than she’d implied), MJ released her hold on him, only to sneak her hand inside his boxers and grasp him properly. He was hot and pulsing in her palm, breath muggy on the side of her face. It intensified her pleasure. She stroked him, steady and torturous, and eased down on his fingers as Peter continued his own motions.

“You’re getting me so wet, Spider-Man,” MJ breathed.

Peter tilted his head away.

“Louder,” he said.

She kissed him before taking a good look at his parted lips and the pink of his cheeks, delicate as a watercolour wash. Peter interrupted her study.

“They should hear you say it,” he prompted, glancing down to where he fingered her. “So they know you’re in here with him. Me.”

Gradually, still grinding down on his hand as he kept a fixed momentum, MJ grinned.

“Would it really be for their benefit, or yours?”

Peter looked up immediately. His gaze slid from one of her eyes to the other. Suddenly, he jabbed his fingers more insistently. MJ gasped and automatically squeezed her fist, making her boyfriend lurch closer.

“Let me see you for a minute,” she said. It stopped being a request as she pushed his mask up herself.

He raised his free hand, trailing the backs of his fingers across her cheek, then slapped his palm to the door, making it (and her heart) jump. Biting down on her lip, she tempered and tenderized her excited smile.

“Just say it,” Peter demanded, brown eyes molten.

Letting her head tip back and hit the door, MJ repeated herself at a much higher volume. That got the girls in the studio talking again.

“Better?” she asked Peter, looking him square in the eye. He shook his head.

“I didn’t like that one either.”

His thumb went to her clit and she rubbed while he held still, fingers unmoving inside her.

“Suggestions?”

MJ was trying for nonchalant. The truth was that she couldn’t manage a full sentence, not at the moment, not while a tingle like static charge was building, climbing her body from the location of Peter’s thumb. He gave her a kind, very normal, Peter sort of smile.

“Say it to me.”

Locking eyes with him, MJ rotated her wrist, caressing up and down his length. She saw his jaw clench.

“You’re getting me so wet, Spider-Man.”

Peter exhaled evenly.

“Condom?”

“Front pocket.”

First, his hand went from the door into his boxers, gently unwrapping her fingers from his dick with an expression of great sacrifice on his face. Continuing to gaze back at her, Peter pushed his boxers off and nudged them away with the side of his foot. MJ lowered her eyes to sweep his body, but when they came back up, she discovered he hadn’t quit looking at her. With another trust-inspiring smile, he knelt. Dextrous fingers retrieved the condom from her jeans. Peter kissed her hip, her inner thigh, before helping her out of her boots and clothing the rest of the way. Only her thin t-shirt stayed on, and he could probably feel her nipples through that, especially when he straightened up and lifted her by the backs of her thighs. MJ’s hand met his against her leg and she took charge of the condom, opening it and then unrolling it on him.

“Already feels good,” Peter told her. She kissed him for a lengthy minute in exchange for his honesty. And for his desire for her, currently standing rigid between them. “M,” he whispered fervently as their mouths parted.

Her inner thighs clamped to his hips as she shifted, angling herself. Ready. He was careful not to hide his grin as he tugged the mask back down over his eyes and nose. Peter’s expression became focused as he followed her guiding hand, delving into her. Already too worked up to receive him slowly, MJ used her legs to draw him all the way in, although it stopped her breath. When she inhaled, the sound in her ears was of someone surfacing from a deep dive.

“Spider-Man,” MJ said, loud, clear, hungry.

Peter thrust.

“Oh, Jesus,” she gasped, though she’d only ever found religion in paintings; angels―good and terrible―in unearthly detail, or obscured by heavenly backlighting.

Her boyfriend spoke to her like mindreading was part of his lunchbox assortment of superpowers.

“How would you paint me,” Peter asked, begging while he commanded. Another thrust, deeper. She clung to his shoulders.

“Haloed,” MJ panted.

Surging forward, he kissed her messily. She did nothing to bring order to the kiss, tongue twisting and tumbling with Peter’s, moaning lustfully into his mouth. He rocked his hips even harder when MJ clawed her fingers into his hair beneath the mask and took a good grip. She didn’t know anymore if they were noisy, couldn’t count how many times his driving thrusts tested the strength of the door. Every breath shaky, MJ rolled what felt like her entire body. She sweat―the room’s circulation was poor and the day must have been getting hotter―and Peter’s hand smoothed greedily over her hip and up to her waist, under her t-shirt.

His other hand supported her, the grip on her leg soft yet strong, and MJ was confident, throwing her hips down onto his, caught by a solid prod and the best feeling in the world. Peter bucked faster and her hand clamped to the back of his neck, the other sticky on his shoulder. Formless, desperate sounds left her mouth, giving up on the kiss, and convinced her boyfriend to reach between her legs and manipulate her clit in tight circles.

“Spide… Spi… Sp…”

MJ climaxed, yanking Peter’s torso to hers, and squeezing her eyes shut. Things were blurry, even inside her head. Holding tight to thighs that felt only distantly like her own, Peter strove through a final handful of thrusts, ending in a completion that heaved MJ’s limp body into the door one last time. They waited it out, the calming. She wanted to tell him that he was her hero for not having weak human arms, which might have been worn out by the sex and set her bare ass down on the supply room floor (ew), but she prioritized breathing. There would be other opportunities to make the nerd blush.

Peter exhaled forcefully after a little bit.

“Are you good? Do you wanna stand?” He pulled back, swiping hair away from her face. Damn ponytail had been too loose.

“Yeah.”

MJ’s feet touched the floor and she stepped around Peter. That was when her legs forgot how to be legs and she tripped over a massive roll of bubble wrap. The jolt woke her up, but it was Peter’s quick hands that caught her.

“Now I’m good,” she said, a little giddy.

“Ok.”

Peter’s hands backed off, but his arms stayed extended towards her.

“Relax.” Her voice probably wasn’t sarcastic enough to hide how sweet she thought he was being. “If I need rescuing while I put my pants on, you’ll be the first to know.”

They dressed quickly―meaning MJ did her best, skipping her socks (they went into her pocket), while Peter stood there, already in his full Spider-Man suit. Yeah, if her outfit was a single sausage casing, she’d be fast too. She assumed the condom had made it into the large trash can, alongside pencil shavings and her classmates’ scrapped ideas.

“Show off,” she mumbled.

“Hey, I don’t want to keep the bakery guy waiting. I have a lot of respect for the schedule of a man who wants to give me free bagels.”

MJ couldn’t see the smirk on his face since he’d pulled the mask down, but she could hear it.

“Yeah, yeah. Go out the window and I’ll meet you two blocks down, like we planned.”

Peter nodded and she let him hold the door for her as they stepped out into the studio. Looked like the audience had hung around. Applause would’ve been nice, MJ couldn’t lie.

“Until next time,” she told Spider-Man, ignoring the others for a moment.

He did a lame little salute that she was definitely never going to let him do again before bounding to the window and scrambling out. Maybe it was smoother than a scramble, but she was suffering from the lameness of the salute.

“How’s the painting going?” she asked The Artist in a tone of colossal disinterest once Spider-Man was out of sight.

Before the girl could answer―or maybe she couldn’t, all three of them did look pretty stunned―MJ strolled to the far end of the studio and collected her sketchbook and pencils, tucking them into her bag. The trio continued to stare at her as she leisurely returned and circled behind them to scrutinize the artwork for herself.

“Huh,” she said, and headed for the door.

One of them―Girl Two, if her memory served―managed a few words.

“Was that…?”

MJ turned back to them, adjusting her bag on her shoulder.

“Yeah.”

With a ridiculous feeling of power, she approached them again and pointed at the painting of so-called ‘Spider-Man.’ Her finger made a circle in the air in front of not-Peter’s crotch.

“You haven’t been generous enough here,” she critiqued. “I’d drop his name from the title, if I were you. The inaccuracy gives the whole thing away. Not that any of you will ever get the chance to see for yourselves.”

This time MJ didn’t pause on her way out, just called back, “Have a super weekend,” and let the door bang behind her.

[bellsmj]

are you a secret i’m holding in

this is like 3ish days late but when i last wrote something this long for another fandom it took me a year so i’d say this is pretty good lol still don’t have a computer i’m so sorry for the length

summary: mj loves her dad. but she hates that he hates spider-man — who happens to be her best friend.

characters: michelle jones x peter parker, may parker, j. j. jameson, sam wilson, olivia jones (original character), happy hogan.

prompt: fake dating (spideychelle week - day 4)

word count: 3,332

warnings: language, a bit angsty?

when michelle found out that her dad was invited to the first annual avengers’ ball, she freaked out. not because she was jealous, but because she was scared for her best friend.

j. j. jameson, the editor-in-chief at the daily bugle, hated spider-man. and her best friend happened to be spider-man. well, peter had never told her that’s him, but she knew. also, she couldn’t be mad since she was also hiding something from him.

but that invitation changed everything.

after the war, everyone, including the avengers, realized many things, but enjoying their time while they still have it was something that stood out. so, they organized the ball and invited old “enemies”.

“oh, you found the invitations, chelley. do you want to come with?” “sorry?” she said, distracted.

“the ball. would you like to come with?” the girl’s eyes widened and she stammered, “o-oh, i’m already going with my friend..... boy. my boyfriend.”

“your boyfriend? since when do you have a boyfriend, michelle? and how is he going to the ball?” he inquired.

“uh, it’s p-peter. i’ve told you about him,” she replied. “he used to have an internship with tony stark. i guess he really liked him,” she chuckled.

“peter? you never talked about him.” he said with a scowl. “parker? his uncle has sold a few pictures to the bugle.”

“ah, the parker kid. i-“ “i’m actually late to meet him. see you next week, dad.” she interrupted.

“isn’t your mom supposed to pick you up later?” “i forgot to tell her. bye,” she replied, already walking out the door with her phone glued to her ear.

“come on, parker, pick up.”

“em? what’s up?” he said, cheerfully. “are you home? actually, i don’t care if you’re not, go to your house right now, we need to talk.” “bu-“ “be there in 15, loser.” she hung up and sprinted to the subway station.

she got to the door of the parker’s apartment out of breath. when she was about to knock, peter came up behind her, and seeing her state, didn’t say anything, just unlocked the door. she dropped her bag on the floor and went straight to his room, knowing he was right behind her, and dropped down on the bottom bunk.

“you wanna explain what’s happening? i mean, i don’t mind, uh, being with you but that was really out of the blue. even for you.” he said with a stupid smile never leaving his face. she sat down and looked up to his eyes.

“i know you’re spider-man,” she stated. “ohh,” he said, his face dropping. “and my dad is j. j. jameson.” “oh,” his face hardened and he looked away.

“i’m sorry i never told you. i just.... i wanted to protect you.” she looked for his eyes, “please say something.” he looked at her, his face still serious.

“i never told you i’m spider-man. it’s okay. i’m sorry too.” she sighed, “you don’t have to be sorry. i wish you had told me, it wasn’t my secret to know.” he smiled tightly, “you’re clever, mj. i’d be surprised if you didn’t know.” “i’m really, really sorry.” her smile matched his, “i know you’re not mad, but still.”

he sat down next to her and after a few seconds put his hand on her knee. “em, you’re my best friend. i was planning on telling you, i promise. you don’t have to be sorry, i’m really happy that you know.” their smiles matched again, but this time, it was a real one.

she got up, letting his hand drop and now pacing around his room. “so, anyways, i told you all of this for a reason. and i think i fucked up. big time,” she smiled nervously.

“ok... what did you do?” he narrowed his eyes. “you’re going to the avengers’ ball, right?” he nodded. “good, ok. as spider-man, the superhero or as peter parker, the old intern slash tony stark’s protégée?”

peter looked down, his feet toying with the carpet. “i haven’t really been able to put on the suit since... you know. too many memories.” he looked back up, a look of despair on his face. “peter parker then.” she knew how hard it was for him to tell her that, so she didn’t mention it when she continued in one breath, “peter parker, ok, awesome, because i may or may not have told my dad that we’re dating and going to the ball together.” he instantly blushed, his eyes looking like they were about to pop out its sockets. “uh, da-dating? and going to the ball? together?” she smiled sheepishly, “yes, and i know that’s kinda shitty, and if you had to invite someone it probably wouldn’t be me anyways, and there’s the whole dating thing. but, it’s my dad, peter. i’m just scared of what can happen if i’m not there, and going with him just wasn’t an option.”

he ducks down and pulls a box from underneath his bed, rummaging through it until he pulls out two golden envelopes, similar to the ones she found at her dad’s. “actually, i was gonna invite you. and tell you i’m spider-man. you kinda ruined my thing here,” he laughed, “but, still, do you wanna go to the ball with me?” she gaped at him, “are you serious?”

“of course i am. there isn’t, uh, there isn’t anyone else i’d rather go with than you, em.” she smiled, her eyes lighting up, “i’d love to.”

they had the ball situation figured out, but that didn’t calm mj in the slightest. she had told her dad they were dating, and well, they weren’t.

so, the next day after school, when they were supposed to studying, they were having a very awkward discussion, instead.

“you could, just, you know,” she mumbled. “no, i don’t, mj.” she sighed and slid down the couch closer to him, grabbing his hand and interlocking their fingers. “do this. you could, do this, i mean.” they avoided eye contact, not taking their eyes off their hands. “oh, uh. ok.” he started tracing lines on the back of her hand with his thumb, which made both their ears redden. “y-yeah, you can do... that,” she faltered.

they looked up, letting a smile appear across both of their faces.

they were more fucked than they thought.

mj had broken the news to him on sunday, the ball was friday, and she didn’t have a dress. something peter had graciously reminded her of on thursday.

“hey, what color is your dress? may said that my handkerchief has to match it or something, we’re gonna go buy it after school.” michelle looked up from her book slowly, a look of panic on her face. “you forgot to buy a dress, didn’t you?” he asked. she nodded as slowly as she lifted up her head. “shit. i can just go with you and may? my mom has a late shift. we’d have to stop by my house first, though.”

“i was so happy when peter told me you two are dating, mj. he has been talking about you non-stop for years and-“ “aunt may!” he looked at the younger woman through the rearview mirror, both of their faces red.

they had decided to run with the lie, telling may and michelle’s mom that they were dating, and only ned knew the truth. they were gonna fight after the ball and break up. easy.

“yeah, may, i’m really happy too.” she says, her eyes not leaving his.

“well, we’re here. you two be quick, we’re in a tight schedule.” michelle smiled, and when she was about to open her door, peter did it for her.

“you don’t have to shit like this, loser,” she reprimanded, closing the door and grabbing the boy’s hand. “of course i do, it’s what ben used to do with may,” he said cheerfully, and she really didn’t know how to reply, so just she started dragging him up the stairs.

“oh, yeah, are you ready to meet my mom as my boyfriend?” she said as they stopped in front of her door. “she’s home?” the boy replied, his voice getting higher. she rolled her eyes and opened the door, yelling for her mom.

“hi, chelley, the money is on the counter,” ms. jones happily informed her daughter. “peter! it’s so nice to see you,” she opened her arms, going in for a hug. “it’s great to see you too, ms. jones.”

“how many times did i tell you to call me olivia, peter?” she said, pulling away from the hug. “sorry, olivia,” he smiled sheepishly. “oh, i’m so happy you two are finally together! i always knew it’d happen.”

michelle came up behind her mom and interrupted the conversation, “sorry, mom, we have to go. i’ll see you tomorrow when you get back from work, right?” “i’ll be here when you come back from school,” she replied, caressing mj’s hair. they quickly hugged and they were out the door.

“finally together?” he laughed. “talking about me non-stop for years?” he shrugged, “got me there.”

they had been walking through the mall for what it felt like an eternity to mj, but only an hour had passed.

“i want dark colors, loser, stop pushing the yellow on me,” she said for, what it felt like, the billionth time. “how about this one then?” it was red and black. the colors of spider-man’s latest suit. “i-it’s beautiful,” her eyes gleamed. “but don’t you think it’s a bit, i don’t know, dangerous? with my dad and all?” she whispered.

“trust me, em. it’s perfect.”

the next day, michelle’s mom was at home as promised, what she hadn’t told her is that she wouldn’t be home to help her get ready, and mj was sort of, kinda, really mad because “it was the whole point, mom! i don’t know how to do any of these... things.”

“sorry, sweetie. but i’ve talked to may! she said you could go get ready there.” mj narrowed her eyes, “you what?”

“what? the groom can’t see the bride before the wedding?” she rolled her eyes, “i’m only going because i truly have no idea how to do anything, mother.”

she got to peter’s holding her dress, heels, and the little makeup she owned. peter opened the door and whispered “sorry” before pecking her cheek, her ears reddening. he made me blush with a peck on the cheek, what the fuck, she thought, but settled for just saying the last part, “wha-“. “mj! come on in, dear. we only have 2 hours,” may interrupted. “only?” she mouthed at peter, who half-shrugged and smiled at the girl.

“look at you all dolled up,” may smiled with a hand on her hip. “not to brag, but damn, i did a great job,” she says, leaving the room. michelle laughs to herself and turns around, seeing herself for the first time. “wow,” she whispers. “yeah, wow,” peter said from behind her, as stunned as the girl. she smiled at him through the mirror and turned around, looking him up and down.

“you look really pretty,” he says. “and therefore i have value?” she replies, smiling slightly. “no! no, that’s not what i meant at all, i was just-“, he quavered. “i’m messing with you,” the girl chuckles, “thank you.” “you’re welcome.” they both have smiles on their faces now. “you look pretty, too.” the boy doesn’t have time to answer before may comes back in her room rushing them out for pictures before happy — she assumes he’s his driver? — gets there.

“just do prom poses, i guess,” may said with a frown and continued, “i don’t know how you’d pose for a ball.” they did what may told them to without complaints until, “ok, now kiss.” and of course peter was the one to get paralyzed. mj turned towards him in their half-hug-situation and put her other arm around him, whispering in his ear, “we’re dating, remember?”, before putting one of her hands on his face and kissing him, her heels made her a good 3 or 4 inches taller than the boy, so she leaned down a bit. his lips were soft, as expected. not that she had been thinking about it.

it was a short kiss, probably only 5 seconds, but when they separated their chests rose and fell with rapid breaths. the situation could’ve easily gotten very awkward if it wasn’t for petter getting a text from happy saying he had arrived.

may followed the two downstairs, hugging them and telling them to “send a lot of pictures. take one with shuri, and tell her to come over soon, ok?” “yeah, yeah, bye, aunt may!” “oh, sam and bucky, too!” she yells as they close the car door. “i’ll introduce you to all of them once we get there. we’re gonna be a couple of hours early anyways.” she nods and turns to face happy. “so, do you work for peter?” “i work with peter, not for peter,” he grunts.

they arrive at the venue and the place is empty, as peter predicted. they show their invitations at the front door and get in. the place is beautifully decorated with red and gold everything, an homage to peter’s old mentor. she saw his eyes starting to water and grabbed his hand, interlocking their fingers like they had practiced that day at his apartment, but instead, this time it felt real.

“come on, dweeb, i want to meet the avengers.” he smiles at her and pulls her upstairs until they reach a big room, this one filled with people. all heads turn to them and they look really happy to see him. some yell his name, others just smile, but she can see he’s adored by his work family. she felt like an outsider.

they walked together, peter introducing her to all these people who she only ever saw on tv.

“oh, em, this is shuri. i’m pretty sure may likes her more than she likes me.”

“don’t tell peter but may has said she likes me more than him, too,” the two girls laugh, “i’m michelle. or just mj.”

“oh, you’re mj! peter has told me all about you! and he never shuts up, so don’t doubt it.” “has he, now?” she glances at him, his arm tightening against her waist.

“i think that’s enough, for some reason i feel like until the end of the night you two could have a plan to get me killed, and i’m not risking anything.” he narrows his eyes and the other two just roll their eyes.

peter and michelle were going to tell sam what was going on. after everything that happened, the new captain america was in charge of the compound, and if jameson tried anything, they wanted him to know.

“sam, i need to talk to you,” peter approaches him, his face was serious, something the older man rarely saw. he didn’t say anything, just took them to an adjacent room and closed the door behind them. “my father is j. j. jameson,” mj blurted. “ok. that’s your girlfriend, kid?”

he looked up at her, “yeah. she is.” “and what do you want me to do about it?”

“why the fuck did you invite him in the first place? my dad is remorseless. he doesn’t care that spider-man got snapped for five years and came back to his mentor dying.”

“i’m sorry,” sam responded sincerely. “i wouldn’t have invited him if i knew about all of this, i just really want all of this to end.”

“yeah, i understand that. i just don’t think this was the best approach, that’s all.”

“if he asks about spider-man just tell him that you heard he’s still not making public appearances, ok kid? kids?” they nodded and sam left.

it had been an hour since the ball started when mj’s dad arrived. there was an aura of superiority around him that she never liked. she loved her dad. she hated his work persona.

she inches closer to peter, who idly held her waist. “my dad is here. pretend we’re crazy in love and hilarious,” she whispers in his ear and rests her head on his temple, laughing. peter joins in and turns around to kiss her forehead. his lips are warm on her skin, and he leaves the spot where he kissed tingling.

“hello, michelle.” she stiffens on peter’s hold and looks ahead to the source of the voice. “hi, dad,” her lips seal in a tight line as she gives him a quick hug, then goes back to peter’s arms. “hello, mister jameson, it’s nice to meet you. i’m peter parker,” the boy says, extending his hand for a non-reciprocated handshake. he drops his hand back to his side and smiles, matching mj. “yeah, parker,” the older man said distracted, looking around them.

“spider-man is not here, dad. if that’s what you’re looking for,” she said harshly. “i’ve heard he’s still not making public appearances, sir,” peter completes.

“i wasn’t looking for him,” he huffed.

“yes, you were,” mj says exasperated. “would you please give it a rest? that kid has suffered enough, he doesn’t need you being all over him.” her face is flushed in anger, and she pulls peter away without even glancing at her father.

she struts through the room, not stopping until they reach the garden on the back.

“how do you deal with this?” she says in a tired manner, as if she had asked that question to many people many times. “i didn’t. tony would usually tell me what to do or he’d solve it himself,” he responds with a small smile.

“i’m sorry my dad is such a dick.”

“i’m not gonna deny that because you’d know i’m lying,” he chuckles. “but, even though he has made my life hell, he also gave me one of the people i love the most, i can’t be mad at that.” she looks up at him, “we’re really not about to do this at a fucking garden, parker. what’s next? i’ll lose my glass slipper?”

“where do you wanna do this, then?” “literally a rooftop would be better than this.”

he scratches his neck and looks around before inching closer to her, “can i just-?” he grabs her waist, “sorry, i’ll just- get your leg here and uh-“ he hoists her up on his lap with one arm — she thought it was impressive (though she’ll deny it until death) — and shoots a web to the roof of the venue, swinging them up until where he could and then crawling the rest up.

there’s comfortable silence for a couple of minutes before michelle breaks it. “ok, we can do this now,” she laughs. “you love me?”

“i do, yeah.” “nice.”

he looks at her, who has a blank look on her face and chuckles, “yeah, nice.”

there’s silence again. this time is less comfortable, but at least it was shorter.

“i love you too, you know?” “you do, huh?” “yeah, weirdo.”

“nice,” he slides over closer to her.

“cool,” she still hasn’t looked at peter, but turns her body to him.

“great,” he grabs her waist with one hand and lifts up her chin with the other.

“amazi-“ he closes the gap between them, slamming their lips together.

it wasn’t like the kiss they had in front of may for a camera. it was hot and heavy. her hands roamed around his back and shoulders and they tried to pull each other closer together, as if it was possible. they pull away, breathless, and smile at each other.

“hey, em?” “yes,” she murmurs. “i’m spider-man.” her smile grows even more. “also, do you wanna go to the avengers’ ball with me?”

she laughs, throwing her head back, “was your original idea just a plan to get in my pants?” he smiles sheepishly, “maybe. did it work?”

“maybe.” she kisses him again, her dad long forgotten.

[spideychelleforever]

MJ: What is it with you about Spider-Man?

Flash: What is it with you about Parker?

MJ: *sweating* SHUT UP

Peter: ? :O

Tagging: my crush @you-guys--are-losers @spiderman-homecomeme @peterjonesparker @suplosers @spideychelle @spideyxchelle @spideychelle-romanogers @lovely-iris-west-allen @wandrlust-stark @acastleintheair @here-be-spideychelle @sodafizzyart @spideychelleweek