Chapter Text
Peter hides the photos in a box, under a stack of books at the top of his closet.
That’s his master plan for forgetting Michelle, and it works about as well as catching a whale with a plastic bucket.
He wonders why he doesn’t come clean and tell Ned and the others as soon as possible, but something stops him every time—a passing car on the road, an incoming call in the hall, a bird…ah, blessing someone’s—Liz’s—new winter coat.
It drags on for most of the first few months in the year, and he psychs himself out—tells himself maybe it isn’t something to pursue, and argues that it wouldn’t be fair to Michelle.
Besides, she’s in a researching track—if she wanted to find him, she probably could. He dropped plenty of clues, and he definitely isn’t hiding.
So her not letting herself step into his life right now was probably a sign that she didn’t want him in hers.
…But then, some days, he wonders if it’s a reverse psychology deal going on here, and he’s supposed to find her .
And, annoyingly, those days always fall on group study hangouts at Liz and Betty’s dorm suite.
In the middle of a conversation.
That he should’ve been listening to.
“—aaaand, he’s definitely not with us,” Ned sighs, leaning over the edge of the bed to wave a hand in front of Peter’s face. “Earth to Peter—we need your vote, man.”
Blink. “Uhh…soda?”
“Soda and nuclear physics it is,” Liz says, jotting down a note as if the answer weren’t totally out of place.
“Funny,” Peter says.
“Head in the game, Parker,” she smirks, tapping her pen on her notebook. “But really: nuclear physics or anthropology?”
“I thought you were taking law?”
“For my sister,” Flash says.
“Why are we picking your sister’s future?”
“Because she just FaceTimed and asked us to.”
“Linguistic or gen?”
“Forensic.”
Peter shrugs, stares back down at his textbook and pretends to read. “I vote anthro.”
“Told you,” Flash says smugly to the rest of them, leaning back. “Even Parker thinks it’s solid.”
“Under normal circumstances I’d accept it, but he wasn’t exactly listening for all the nuanced arguments,” Betty says, rolling her eyes.
“You just think I’m incapable of a good idea, Brant.”
Betty grins, sickeningly sweet. “Glad you noticed, Thompson.”
“Civil,” Liz reminds them, a warning in her tone.
“Sorry,” they say in unison.
“Two for physics and four for anthro,” Ned announces, clacking away on his laptop. “Better tell her before the deadline tonight.”
“And—sent,” Flash says, locking his phone.
“Wait, why were there six votes?” Peter asks, quirking a brow.
“MJ,” Liz says, smirking. “See? You guys think alike, too.”
“Four of us voted anthro.”
“But only you two used quick deduction versus bullet points.”
Peter rolls his eyes, the memory of a girl and her steaming mug rushing forward. He grabs the TV remote and sets the channel to mind numbing house renovations and raises the volume.
“Smooth distraction attempt,” Liz sighs, crossing her arms. She sits back down in her little corner, silently gesturing for anyone else to take over.
“Pete, seriously, even Flash thinks you guys would hit it off,” Betty half-pleads, blocking the screen with her body tilting to the side. “One date.”
“You do?” is how Peter replies, brow raised high and gawking at Flash.
(Betty rolls her eyes, stealing the remote away and shutting off the TV.)
Flash shrugs, tips his head back, chugging his coffee. “Either you die from fear or fall in love.”
“So, about the same result,” Ned says, taking advantage of Peter’s blocked sightline.
“Eh.”
“You have nothing to lose,” Liz says, law books open on her lap and the floor around her. “She’s smart, responsible, and pretty.”
“Everything you wish you were,” Flash says, grinning and pointing at Peter.
Betty rolls her eyes. “Sometimes I forget you were an a—”
“We agreed not to call him that anymore,” Ned reminds her. “Or, y’know, we gotta pay him ten bucks.”
She points at Flash. “You are so lucky I prefer group integrity over petty squabbles.”
“We’re going to pretend that’s true,” Liz says, looking back down at her books.
“Liz!”
“Betty, you got into a debate with a professor last sem because of a misplaced adverb.”
“That’s on me, but it was finals, so it was also kinda not on me,” she says, raising her brows briefly. “MJ’s on my side.”
“MJ’s got a minor in English, of course she’s on your side.”
Huff, as Betty turns to Flash. “…Sorry.”
“Begrudging apology accepted,” Flash says, smirking.
“Don’t tempt fate, dude,” Ned says, concealing it in a yawn.
“Yeah, well, tell MJ I’m done with fate,” Peter says, stretching.
Betty raises a brow. “Someone’s been grumpy for a while.”
“I’m not grumpy,” he pouts.
“You’re not all there, either,” Liz says, crossing her arms.
“Been ditching Thursday night taco runs, too,” Flash frowns.
“And you said you didn’t miss him,” Ned snorts, turning to Peter. He scrunches his face. “But…yeah, man. Something’s up with you.”
“Just midterms,” Peter sighs. “Sorry I’ve been sucky.”
“Apology accepted,” Liz nods.
“Ditto,” Betty points.
“Double ditto!” Ned grins, folding paper.
“Pff. Whatever,” Flash snorts.
Peter rolls his eyes. “Gee, I feel so loved.”
Ned throws a paper plane his way. “You should!”
“Time check?” Liz calls, already back at her books. “I think my phone is under here, but there’s no way I’m moving.”
Flash taps his phone. “Almost three,” he says, looking up. “Time to call for pizza?”
“Oof— I gotta go,” Peter says, swinging on his backpack. “I got lab. See you guys later.”
“No fair!” Flash yells, groaning. “You’re just ditching the blind date talk!”
“Dude, you had this class last sem. You know it’s real.”
“But.”
Peter sighs, shoving his feet into his boots. “That’s just a bonus, okay?” He waves at the from the doorway, tossing a coat over himself haphazardly. “Don’t forget to drink water!”
“Don’t forget to double-check your liquids!” Liz and Ned yell back.
Click, as the door closes.
Ned turns to his friends, that years-long sigh of an old man escaping him as he hunches forward, moving his laptop to the side. He flops, head lolling to the side. “He’s bummed about something. I can tell.”
“Baby, watch that pen,” Betty says, pointing by his head. “Cap’s off--if you get my sheets stained, I swear--”
Jangling.
Liz tosses her head back, glaring at the ceiling. “…You’re joking.”
Click!
“What?” MJ says, walking into the room, backpack stuffed to the brim and bursting with books and loose papers. “No greeting? Did someone die?”
“You just missed Parker,” Betty groans, head in hand.
MJ snorts. “You have way too much homework to be matchmaking, B.” She nods at the boys. “Fellas. Thesis still running?”
“Workin’ out the kinks, but this thing is Flash-proof,” Ned says, grinning.
“Many ways to take that.”
“Don’t make it weird, MJ.”
“Edward, it’s like you don’t know me.”
“That would be a boring time,” Ned pouts, considering an alternate timeline.
“Amen to that,” Flash says, still staring at his laptop. “…And to hell with this,” he adds, flopping backwards on the floor and digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I hate running on empty.”
“You got eight hours last night,” Ned says with a straight face.
“Two hours short, Leeds.”
“Okay, grandpa.”
“Shape up, Thompson,” MJ says, claiming her spot by Betty’s bed—right where Peter had sat.
(If there is a collective inner groan, there is no outer one.)
Betty squints at her. “How’d you…how’d you manage to miss him? In the hallway? It’s like a yard wide.”
“I don’t know,” MJ shrugs. “Maybe he took the back way? Or the elevator?”
“Ugh.”
“You still use the stairs, huh?” Ned says, leaning back on his hands.
“After you guys got stuck in D.C.? I’d walk up a skyscraper,” MJ blanks, setting up shop with her papers.
“I wish your room wasn’t in a corner,” Flash says, sighing and facepalming.
Liz rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right.”
“You like our views and you know it,” Betty says.
“Better than our place,” Flash snorts.
“Sucks when the ‘rents stop giving you everything you ask for, huh?” MJ blanks.
“Hello, 911? I got a murder to report,” Ned snickers, high-fiving MJ.
“I hate you,” Flash says.
“Okay,” MJ says, grinning.
“I do!”
She cracks a book open, bookmarked page somewhere in the back half. Scritch, scratch of her pencil as she circles and underlines words and phrases every few sentences. “Sure.”
“Whatever,” Liz says, huffing in her little alcove. She rolls her eyes and looks at Flash. “She’s just deflecting.”
“Mhm,” MJ says, eyes on her book. “Glad you noticed.”
“Boring,” Betty says, plopping her cheek to her propped-up hand. “Back to work, I guess.”
MJ hums again.
Ned sighs, reloading a page. “You’re no fun.”