Chapter Text
So, on top of all that…
MJ has to get a job. ASAP status kind of urgent.
On one hand, she needs to start gaining some money for rent. The interviews were cute when her savings were brand new, but now it's starting to get into ‘stretching thin’ territory.
And on the other hand… she needs to get out of this damn apartment. Her mind is already railing with all sorts of complicated thoughts about her thing (oh so it's ‘a thing’ now?) with Peter, and like it was previously mentioned: he is always there.
Even when he's not!
The other day, she went to the kitchen to get a cup of water, and there was Ned talking non-stop with Peter as they played games together. He even made her say hi.
And there's a third secret reason why she wants something else to do, somewhere else to be. She just can't bring herself to truly say it.
But it hides behind the tiny purse on her lips whenever a notification pops up on her phone, and… it's just Paul.
And to absolutely no one’s surprise, this disappointment is immediately followed by a pinching sensation in her chest. It's no mystery what it means: she knows damn well who she wishes that notification belonged to.
“I don't love you… because I don't even know you”
She couldn’t remember ever saying something so hurtful to anyone. Had she known that the look in that man’s eyes, as it seemed like his very spirit deflated in front of her, would haunt her for countless nights to come, she wouldn't have held her gaze up to his.
A little too late for that, isn't it?
Anyways, back to the real world.
A promising interview had presented itself, and MJ wasn't about to waste it. It's a busy Tuesday morning in New York City, and the address she's been given is on the other side of town. It's easily over two hours on public transport.
Man, seriously?
It's fine. People wake up and do this all the time. Every day even. She’ll manage, like she always does.
She waves goodbye to Ned as she walks out, and he wishes her good luck.
“Let us know how it goes!”
Us…
MJ silently sighs on the hallway after closing the door behind her, as she is certain of who Ned means by “us”.
The train is fucking packed today, and MJ spends most of the journey standing up, griping a pole. The signal is terrible at some parts, so she resorts to listening to music, and one of her favorite hobbies: people-watching.
She's trying to come up with a background story for the big guy sitting two feet away from her, who's staring at his phone while tears are pooling on his eyes. His thick hairy eyebrows cover his eyes enough so that she can't tell the nature of his crying.
Are those tears of joy, or sadness?
Maybe pride?
What is he seeing on his phone?
Maybe he's yearning for someone he misses.
MJ’s odd train of thoughts is interrupted by the peculiar sound of webbing near her, coming from outside of the train.
She turns her head to the window, and effectively, there he is. It's Spider-man.
He's just arrived at the highest spot of a building nearby the trail MJ’s train is going through. Since this part of the journey is currently on an elevated railway, MJ is able to catch a pretty good glimpse of the masked vigilante, who just sat down on the edge of a rooftop.
It's quite the distance, but his very recognizable red and blue suit makes him stick out like a sore thumb.
MJ watches as Peter brings his hand to his face, pulling up his mask a little bit to reveal his mouth.
Is he… eating a sandwich?
She looks around, trying to figure out if the rest of the people on this train with her are also looking at Spider-man eating his lunch.
It seems like nobody is as interested.
MJ ignores the blush that's creeping up to her cheeks.
…….
“I’m sorry babe, I know I said I would pick you up after the interview but I didn't think it would take you so long!” Paul says to her on the phone.
Motherfuc—
“Are you serious? It's really pouring out here” MJ would swear she tried not to sound as mad as she is right now.
He fucking promised…
“I’m really sorry! Don't worry, I’ll make it up to you. How’s dinner tomorrow? Your place”.
Oh, for fuck's sake…
“Yeah, I don't know about that Paul. I kinda have to get home first.” Harsh. Man, whatever. Paul is silent for a beat. “We’ll see. Talk to you later, bye.”
MJ quickly hangs up the call. She knew nothing nice was gonna come out of her mouth if she kept talking to her boyfriend.
She is standing on the entrance of the office she's just come out of. She spent 3 hours waiting to be interviewed. Her phone battery is at 5%. Her clothes are definitely not water-proof, as it did not seem like it was gonna fucking rain when she stepped out.
She does not have many moves left.
What can she do now?
MJ calls Ned, who answers almost instantly, and tells him exactly where she is.
“Don't worry MJ, I’ll take care of it. Just stay there” Ned tells her, without really hearing her response. He's hung up already.
MJ takes a deep breath, and gets ready to wait.
…….
“So Ned tells me you're in need for a ride home?”
Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me…
MJ turns to her side, where she sees a masked red head poking out of the upper left corner of her line of sight. It's Spider-man himself, talking to her from an alley next to the building she's standing in the front of.
He is, understandably, completely drenched.
“You're one to talk!” She retorts, a little too loud for her liking.
The street in front of them is very busy, as the sun has unexpectedly given pass to an early nighttime because of the heavy rain that's relentlessly pouring still. There's a lot of noise surrounding them, as people are trying desperately to get home as soon as possible.
Peter, upside down, tilts his head a little at her comment.
“These days I got all I need at the tip of my wrists.” He says, smugly. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.”
“Peter,” she says quietly, looking around to make sure no one is listening to her conversation in the middle of a busy street with thee Spider-man, “it's really coming down”.
“Oh really? I hadn't really noticed” he answers, deadpan. MJ must’ve given him a very serious death-stare that he apparently found really amusing, because he continues: “Y’know, with the suit and all…” he finishes, as he starts to giggle a bit.
“Fuck you” she says. A beat passes, Peter doesn't answer that. Sigh. “I was hoping Ned would call me an Uber or something.”
“Well, I’m definitely something of a… something” Peter finishes, lamely. “That sounded better in my head.” He adds, embarrassed. “Anyways, I promise I’ll be fast. You’ll be home in no time.”
“Don't you think I’ll get sick if you swing us around the city with this rain?” She asks, trying to hide the fact that she's clearly not the biggest fan of web-swinging.
“It'll be like, five minutes tops.” Peter says, as he finally gets his feet on the ground. Jesus, doesn't he get dizzy? “Hop on” Peter extends a hand at her, leaving an opening to the side of his torso so she can hold on to it.
MJ hesitates momentarily. It's been a long day, and she really wants to get home. Her phone is at 1%. Plus, it's not like this is their first time doing this…
Screw it.
MJ gets closer, and follows Peter further into the alley. When they're far enough from possible onlookers, she wraps her arms around his neck, and he reciprocates by carefully but firmly grabbing her waist.
As he lifts his arm, getting ready to shoot a web, MJ follows her own muscle memory and proceeds to circle his hip with one of her legs.
Obviously, she was planning to lock that leg by the anckle with her other one as soon as they get in the air. However, when Peter sneaks a clothed hand on the crook where the back of her thigh meets the back of her knee, she realizes, mortified, that this is a bit much.
“That's it…” Peter whispers, with a bit of a rasp in this voice. The white goggles on his mask are pointing anywhere but her face, like he's avoiding looking right at her. “I got you.”
MJ doesn't get to reply anything, as Peter shoots a web, and finally gets them going.
…..
It takes approximately eight minutes for them to reach MJ and Ned's apartment.
Peter guides them to the fire espape that leads to MJ’s bedroom window. She hurriedly opens it, and walks through.
“Oh my God, I’m so fucking cold,” she blurts out, while she desperately searchs her room for a dry towel.
It's Peter who finds it first. He walks up to her, and wraps it around her shoulders, over her clothes and hair, like one would a cape.
“It's okay, just get in the shower and turn the heat on as hard as you can take it,” he says, and suddenly, freezes.
His hands are caught where her shoulders meet her arms, where he gently holds the towel. MJ instantly notices that something has shifted, but she can't tell what it is right away.
Not until she follows Peter’s gaze down her chest.
Seems like the combination of the cold rainy wheather, poorly timed outfit choice, and unexpected eight-minute web-swinging session has left her with a terribly predictable result.
Embarrassed, she crosses her arms in front of her, in a mildly successful attempt to cover herself.
Peter, who ever since they entered MJ’s room, had lifted his mask to reveal his mouth so that he could breathe better, visibly licks his lips before nervously biting the bottom one.
MJ is shocked by what a mask can truly conceal.
“So, um…” Peter coughs, breaking some of the tension that's built up, “I guess I’ll get going.” he finishes, pointing at the window they just entered through with a finger.
“Y-yeah, that’s…” she stutters, and pauses briefly to clear her throat. “That's fine Peter.”
Peter gives a sharp nod before pulling his mask all the way down, and heading to the fire escape. As he turns his head around one more time, MJ seizes the moment to say: “Thank you”.
“You're welcome MJ” he answers, the tone of his voice maybe too earnest for her to miss, even with the mask fully on. Then, without missing a beat, he shoots a web and swings away.
….
Later that night, when she gets out of her room to go and get some water to down a Paracetamol (because she did in fact catch a cold today), Ned greets her and excitedly asks how the interview went.
She purposefully ignores him, proceeds to bee-line right back to her room, and slams the door shut.
She also does not answer any of the messages Paul has sent her ever since they last spoke.
In her sleep, she dreams of a burning touch that ghosts down the back of her thighs.
It's probably just a fever.
……