Chapter Text
“It’s heartless.”
That’s a fact that Michelle can agree on as she absently stabs at her salad, occasionally casting Ned glances and refusing to look at Peter as he finishes explaining his plan to them—his plan to bring Liz to Homecoming, if only because her father is somehow involved in the illegal weapons dealing.
“Well, I don’t know if I would go that far,” Peter says with a gulp, but if he’s going to look at her for any help, he’s not getting jackshit. Because, point blank, Ned is right. It’s heartless. “Come on, I mean, I can stop all of this, and hasn’t that been the goal? Besides, I think Liz knows it’s just as friends…?”
“Right, but even a friend wouldn’t go behind another friend’s back just to get close to their villainous father,” Ned says flatly. Yet again, another truthful blow.
Michelle feels like she could dissect the multitude of reasons why he’s being shitty, some of which will reflect very much on her feelings, but she won’t. Instead she remains quiet and finishes her lunch, ignoring the occasional glances Peter will shoot at her, like he’s asking for her to look at him.
“What do you think, MJ?” he finally cracks out, rubbing the back of his neck, and what is she supposed to say to that? That his plan is the dumbest thing she’s ever heard?
“Your plan is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Michelle says, staring down at her salad with her lips thinly pressed together. “Like, not only are you using Liz, but you’re…”
When she trails off, swallowing some unknown lump in her throat and ignoring Ned’s eyes on her because she knows what he’s thinking. She wasn’t hoping, but she was open to the possibility, and now she might as well just forget about it.
“Do you have any other ideas?” he tries, like he can suddenly take an eraser to the damage he just did.
“Probably. But, you know, you didn’t bother asking that before running off, so good luck with plan A,” Michelle tells him with a shake of her head, standing up to throw her half-eaten lunch away. She hates wasting food, and yet her appetite has suddenly gone out the window.
She doesn’t make it very far though, Peter jumping up from his seat to snag her arm before she can leave the cafeteria. His eyes are wild and desperate and they make her heart shrivel just a little bit, and she hates that right now because how dare he?
He tugs her off to the side and she complies—not because she wants to, but because she doesn’t feel like shouting at him when they’re standing in the middle of the cafeteria. Surely that would get the entire student body’s attention.
“What do you want?” she asks evenly.
Peter waits for a moment, shifting from one foot to the other as he fidgets with his sleeves. A hand rakes its way through his hair before he exhales, defeated. “I was going to ask you to Homecoming.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“Yes, I was,” he says, and it’s strained, like he wants her to believe him, but why should she when he jumped at the first chance to ask someone else. “I was going to ask you as soon as I figured out how to stop tripping over my words around you. And I got a purple tie to match…just in case you said yes. I...I wanted to ask you.”
Michelle waits a beat, scrutinizing his expression as it remains uncharacteristically frozen, as if he just opened his heart to her in the most obstructed way possible because she can’t tell how he really feels in this moment.
“Why are you telling me this? After asking Liz, you tell me now that you wanted to go with me?” Michelle scoffs, knowing he’s not doing it to be cruel, but it kind of feels that way because they’re clearly not going to go together now. “For what, Peter?”
“I…I don’t know. Because I…”
Michelle waits a beat, but when it’s clear that Peter can’t seem to get the words out, she sucks her cheeks in and shoots him a small smile fueled by hurt that spikes in intensity because after all this time and everything they’ve been through, he still can’t even tell her. “Well, I’ll save you the ‘what could’ve been’ and say that I would have told you no anyway.”
It’s a lie, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him any more than anything she just said, and she walks out of the cafeteria with the feeling of his hand on her arm still lingering like a ghost.
“I could just not go,” Michelle says flatly as she rests her head in her mother’s lap, the two of them sprawled out on the couch in front of the television. And maybe she spilled her heart out to her mom, leaving a few details undisclosed, and maybe she’s told that high school boys aren’t worth it anyway.
Her father happened to pop in at the wrong time—or right, depending on who’s speaking—very loudly declaring that he never liked that Peter Parker kid in the first place. It makes her laugh, even if it comes out weak and dies off quickly because she does like that Peter Parker kid. She likes him in a way that makes it feel like it was inevitable, that she wouldn’t have been able to help it even if she tried.
And maybe he likes her back, but Michelle figures she’ll most likely never know because he’ll never tell her. All she got was some half-assed excuse that he wanted to take her to the dance, and that’s more of a consolation prize than anything.
It feels kind of silly altogether that she’s over here moping when she knows what’s about to go down that night, Liz’s father about to be taken out or whatever the hell he plans to do. But everyone deserves to be able to wallow in self-pity from time to time.
“It’s up to you, but I think you should go,” her mother hums, smoothing a hand through Michelle’s hair. “Because that purple dress looked beautiful on you and it’s always fun to blow your peers’ socks off. Plus, you can always go with friends, right?”
“Yeah,” Michelle mutters quietly, sitting up if only to rest her head on her mom’s shoulder. Going with her friends was always a contingency plan, but she’d assumed that would be if none of them had dates. “Ned and I could carpool, probably.”
“Perfect.” Her mom clasps her hands together, a smile stretching across her face. “Do you want me to help you get ready?”
Michelle shrugs, like sure, why not . So she goes upstairs and shoots Ned a quick text about him coming over to carpool before changing into the purple floor-length dress that’s been hanging in her closet, probably collecting dust.
When her mother said she’d help her get ready, what she really meant was that she’d snap over a dozen pictures of her by the time Michelle finished clipping her hair back, letting her curls spill over her shoulders.
“You look absolutely stunning,” her mother tells her with a soft smile, smoothing down a stray curl and cupping Michelle’s face between two hands, dropping a kiss to her head. “And I know you think it’s just a dance, but it’s your first one, so have a good time with your friends, okay?”
“Yeah, I will,” Michelle says, nodding and staring down at the ground, wondering if this is how it will be if she goes to prom senior year. She hopes she’ll at least feel a little better about it. “Thanks.”
When they hear the car horn honk outside, Michelle blows out a breath and slips her shoes on, but she doesn’t make it out the door before her father snaps a picture of her—half-blurred and no smile, but he calls it perfect anyway and shoots her two thumbs’ up.
“Hey, MJ,” Ned greets with a grin, donning what looks to be a brand new hat and a suit. He looks good and his Lola gives them both approving smiles from the front seat. “You look nice.”
“Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself. Nice hat,” she replies with a small smirk, nudging him with her elbow, and he chuckles before they sit in relative silence for the rest of the ride there. Neither of them bring up the elephant in the room, the empty seat in between them.
By the time they make it to Homecoming, Michelle is determined to at least have a fun night because she thinks she deserves it after everything. So she sets herself up by the food table and hangs out with Abe and Cindy and Ned, and then Flash shows up in his father’s car with a date she’s never seen before. He catches her eye and gives an exaggerated wink, which has her snorting.
“Hey, you all wanna take a group photo for my Insta? I’ve got a selfie stick,” Flash suggests, wiggling his brows, and everyone in their group starts clustering around him. “Um…let’s say ‘winners’ on the count of three. One, two…”
Michelle merely smiles with her lips pressed together, flashing her middle finger at the last minute as the picture is taken. And Flash insists that they take another, so they do, but she personally likes the first one the best.
“We should dance,” Ned eventually speaks up after a moment, looking at Michelle, and before she can even begin to decline, he’s dragging her onto the dance floor whilst they play some generic pop song that’s on the radio far too often. “Come on, MJ!”
“Yeah, for sure,” Michelle murmurs, not moving at all and instead pulling out her phone to take a video of Ned dancing in case she ever needs it for future reference. “This is so fun.”
“You’re not even dancing!”
“Aren’t I?” She merely raises an eyebrow before putting her phone away as a slow song starts to play. “Hey, you know what, you should ask her to dance.”
“Who?”
“Betty Brant,” Michelle says nonchalantly, Ned shooting her a look that screams shut up . But she’s not blind, never missing a beat when she would see her friend casting lingering looks at the morning news, the way his gaze would stick to Betty when her and Liz were setting up for Homecoming around the school.
“Please, she probably came with someone,” Ned says with a quiet laugh, waving it off, and Michelle looks over at Betty standing alone by the punch bowl before shrugging. “I didn’t think you noticed.”
“As if I wouldn’t. I might not have mentioned anything about it, but you know…eye for an eye,” she tells him with a shrug, thinking about how Ned had always seemed to know how she felt towards Peter and never said anything. She could say that about a lot of people, and she supposes she should be grateful—lest she somehow embarrass herself by being the one that falls too hard.
“Hey, you know…” And she can tell Ned is going to give her some speech about Peter judging on just his facial expressions alone, but her attention is caught on someone else walking through the door at the moment.
“Liz?” Michelle asks as she walks towards them with a very pretty red dress on, hair clipped half-up, and looking stunning as ever. “Hey. Where’s…your date? I mean, didn’t you come with—?”
“Peter? No. It’s kind of funny, honestly. He showed up at my front door and had this corsage that didn’t even match my dress,” Liz says with a small smile, a shake of her head, unbothered. “So I figured it wasn’t going to be for me. But it took him a little longer to clarify that, and he spent, like, three minutes apologizing.”
“Not shocked,” Ned remarks in the background with a resounding cough, looking up at the ceiling.
“I don’t know if my dad intimidated him or what, but I figured we were just going to go as friends anyway because it’s so obvious…” Liz hesitates before grabbing Michelle’s hand and tugging her onto the dance floor, pulling her arms around her neck so they remain close. “That he has feelings for someone else.”
“If he does, he’s never told me,” Michelle says with a shrug, biting her lower lip to tamp down any hopeful feelings that are starting to resurface again. She doesn’t need them right now.
“Well, maybe he will,” Liz simply replies with a knowing smile, ducking her head in a little as Michelle’s hands squeeze her waist lightly. “As much as I think red and purple go together, there’s probably someone here who matches you far better.”
“Don’t do this to me, Liz,” she groans, dropping her forehead to her shoulder briefly.
“Too late, babe.” Liz spins Michelle around so that she can get a clear view of Peter standing by the entrance with a terrified expression on his face, quite frankly. But it seems to relax upon seeing her, something peaceful, something content settling in his eyes, a quiet exhale escaping his mouth.
He doesn’t move for a good ten seconds, stuck there with his lips parted slightly and hands clutching the boxed corsage with white knuckles. But then he finally takes a stride forward and another and another until they’re standing face to face.
“Hi,” he says softly, swallowing, gaze roving all over her face. “You look so…god, MJ. You’re beautiful. I can’t even...”
“Thank you,” Michelle says with a small smile, looking down because it’s easier than looking him in the eyes, but her heart will continue to pound no matter what she does. “You look…beautiful, too.”
“Thank you.” Peter rubs the back of his neck as if that’ll take away from the blush coloring his cheeks. “I didn’t end up going through with the…plan, by the way. You guys were right…so I’m not here with Liz.”
“I figured…since I just got a whole slow dance in with her before you even managed to get here. Fashionably late, per usual,” she jokes lightly, and he laughs a little, biting the inside of his cheek.
“I, uh, know that I didn’t ask you to Hoco and you said you wouldn’t go with me anyway, but since we’re both here…do you think you’d wanna…”
“Yes.”
“Yes, like you want to…dance with me?” Peter asks with hopeful eyes, and she simply nods because yes , she really does. And he smiles, relieved, dipping his chin and holding the corsage out, if only to offer it to her. “This was always meant for you, by the way.”
“It matches your tie,” Michelle comments with a small smirk, Peter grinning and taking her by the hand. There’s not a slow song playing at the moment, but that’s the way they dance—slowly, relaxed, in each other’s arms. She ignores the way their friends are blatantly staring at them and snickering because yeah, okay, they were never subtle.
“I’m sorry for…well, a lot of things,” he begins to mumble against the crook of her neck, palms skimming her back. “I should’ve just asked you to Homecoming instead of coming up with that stupid plan because you’re the only one I want to be here with. Even if you would’ve said no, I think I still…”
“I lied…earlier. I would’ve said yes,” she clarifies with a small smile, not that he can see it because they’re swaying so closely. Probably a good thing because he can’t see her blush either.
“Oh,” he exhales with wide eyes, pulling back slightly just so she can see his face, the way he wets his lips. “Well, I’m glad we’re here together anyway.”
“Yeah, me too,” Michelle says, biting her lower lip as she looks down. “You’re not as bad of a dancer as I thought you’d be.”
Peter laughs a little, dropping his head back on her shoulder to muffle a groan. “May helped me practice. She said I needed it.”
“She’s always right.”
They continue dancing without really moving at all, so Michelle chalks it up to just hugging with a bit of hip swaying, but it’s nice. It’s really nice, and she thinks maybe he feels that way too judging on the way his hands tighten around her waist, nose brushing the junction between her neck and shoulder.
“I’m sorry that I continuously put you through shit, Em,” he finally whispers, his throat bobbing when he looks at her again, eyes a little dewy, and they find themselves stopping their dance altogether. “It’s not…I don’t want that for you because I know you deserve better than that. I just feel like…if you ever want an out because it becomes too much, I won’t hold it against you. Ever.”
“Please.” Michelle withholds an eye roll in favor of taking a risk, cupping his jaw. “It’s you and me, okay? For as long as we want. I’m not going to back out of this if you’re not.”
“I’m not if you’re not,” he echoes with a breathless little laugh, leaning into her touch. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for ages, actually…and I guess I should also apologize for taking so long…”
“You weren’t lying when you said that you’re sorry for a lot of things,” she comments lightly, feeling her heartbeat spike a beat and wondering if he can hear it too, but before Peter can get another word out, her attention is caught on a familiar face lurking by the gymnasium doors. He catches her gaze and doesn’t falter, just holds it, lips stretching into a smile that’s more detached than anything. “Pete...”
“MJ,” Peter hums, not following her line of sight clearly—not until she pinches his elbow and he yelps. “Hey! What—”
“Is Toomes just upset you did his daughter dirty or is he here for another reason? Answer quickly,” Michelle tells him urgently, and Peter’s face falls faster than the words come out.
“He’s here? I mean, he, uh…he was asking me all these questions when I was over there about the party and Washington. I thought he was gonna smoke me when I backed out of taking Liz, but I don’t think it’s because he knows I’m…”
“I mean, come on. Toomes isn’t exactly…dumb,” she utters quietly. “And you’re not exactly good at keeping secrets, so maybe he just put the pieces together.”
“So you think he knows?”
“To be on the safe side, I want to say…yeah. Definitely.” Michelle strains her neck to see if she can still spot him, but to no avail. “I don’t know where he’s gone, but him being here couldn’t have been for nothing, right?”
Peter swallows, keeping a firm grip on her hand as he starts to walk towards the exit doors. “Did he see us?”
“We made eye contact.” Michelle hesitates, already knowing what’s coming and slowing to a halt so that Peter stops as well, looking back at her. “I know you’re going to have to go.”
“I’m so sorry,” he begins to say, brows creasing with that typical torn expression she’s so used to by now, but she merely shakes her head, gives him a small smile. She knows why she hasn’t backed out of this yet, knows that she’d rather be someone he can come home to, a constant in his life.
“I’ve already forgiven you for everything you needed to apologize for. This isn’t that.” She looks around the gym and sees Ned staring at them with an expectant look on his face. “Ned and I will be around here to help you out. But only if you do all the heavy lifting.”
“Okay,” Peter says with a small laugh at her teasing tone, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah, will do. As long as you guys stay out of trouble.”
“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Michelle says with a roll of her eyes, shoving him lightly towards the door, but he stops her quickly by draping his tie around her neck with a soft smile.
“I’ll come back just to get that later, if you don’t mind.” And to top it all off, Peter plants a brief yet warm kiss to her cheek before running out of the gym with a hasty, flustered ‘bye!’ , giving her feelings that just about rival their time in Washington when their places were switched.
When she eventually turns back to Ned, she sees him wearing a pleased expression, and it’s nice that she feels like she can finally return it.
“Takeoff in nine minutes.” A beat passes. “Hello? Hello? Who is this?”
“Uh, Mr. Happy, it’s Ned,” Ned feebly says, staring at the computer screen he just popped up on. He gives a little wave before clearing his throat. “I’m an associate of Peter Parker and have something very important to tell you—”
“You gotta be shitting me,” Happy mutters before the screen goes black, and Michelle scoffs in the background, uncrossing her arms and taking the seat to Ned’s right.
“You know what. Should’ve expected that,” Ned says matter-of-factly, clicking his pen up and down against the tabletop. “Damn. Guess we’re on our own.”
Michelle purses her lips before ringing Peter up and putting him on speaker when he answers immediately, the wind whistling through the phone. She can tell he’s swinging, most likely still trailing Toomes’ car.
“You still doing okay?” she asks, looking at the computer to see if they can tell where Peter is now by tracking his phone. “That suit holding up?”
“Yeah. Yeah, you made it surprisingly durable, so thanks,” Peter replies breathlessly, releasing a little yelp when he undoubtedly almost swings into something. “The extra padding is super—super helpful.”
“Try not to wreck yourself now. Oh, and by the way, Happy was not helpful. Like, at all. But we’re pretty sure he’s getting on a flight or something,” Michelle informs him, her free hand tugging aimlessly at the tie hanging from her neck. “He was surrounded by a bunch of boxes.”
“Oh, god. It’s moving day…and Toomes is stopping in an old industrial park in Brooklyn. He’s gonna rob that plane,” Peter realizes in a frantic panic, swinging faster. “I gotta…hurry up and stop him.”
“Please be careful.”
“I will, I promise. Keep trying to get through to Happy, yeah?” The sound of feet thudding against the ground sounds through the speakers before he speaks again. “I’ll let you guys know when this whole thing is over.”
Michelle leans back in her seat when the call ends just like that, looking over at Ned who seems just as stressed as she feels. He looks like he’s about to say something, probably to be comforting, but then the lights to the computer lab flicker on and Ms. Warren is standing right there in the doorway.
“What are you two doing here? There’s a dance,” she reminds them, crossing her arms over her chest, and Michelle opens her mouth, even begins to speak.
“Sorry, we were just—”
“Looking at porn,” Ned finishes, his tone more awkward and uncertain than anything she’s ever heard, and Warren looks at them, unimpressed—to match Michelle’s expression, really.
“Do I need to send you two home?”
“Yeah, you do. Um, sorry,” Michelle quickly says, shooting Ned a look that reads zip it , grabbing him by the arm and pulling him out of the computer lab. “I know your Lola’s expecting you, so I’ll call you when I get home? And we can just…wait it out, I guess.”
“I hate waiting,” Ned groans, and in this case, she can’t help but agree. And yet, there’s nothing else they can do other than to keep trying Happy. “I hope Liz is going to be okay after all of this…”
“Yeah,” Michelle utters, chewing the inside of her cheek. She’ll most likely find herself talking to her tomorrow, just to check if she’s alright. “Me, too.”
When she’s eventually dropped back off at her house by Ned’s grandmother, her parents are still awake, sitting in the living room with the television on—Seinfeld reruns. Her mother looks up and offers a tired smile.
“Hi, honey. How was the dance? Did you have a good time?” she asks amidst a yawn.
“Any dirty work I need to fulfill for you, Meesh?” her father asks with a half laugh, cracking his knuckles in a faux-menacing manner, and she snaps her mouth shut with a smile, shaking her head. “You sure?”
“Positive, Dad, but—haha, thanks,” Michelle says quickly as she kicks off her shoes. “I’m, uh, pretty tired, so I’m going to head up to bed. See you in the morning and I’ll tell you about it then.”
“We’ll hold you to that, sweetheart,” her mom calls out after her when she’s already pounding up the steps, ready to strip and change into pajamas.
Jasmine’s lazily lounging on her bed as she undresses whilst also casually keeping up with the news. Nothing of too much relevancy, but she calls Ned anyway and sits at her desk, chin resting in her hands. They wait like that for about another hour before she realizes that he’s fallen asleep, snoring on the keyboard.
Michelle sighs and turns off her computer but doesn’t want to go to sleep, lest she miss something important. So she lies down in bed and scrolls aimlessly on her phone just for anything to keep her awake.
Eventually, just as her eyelids are failing her and she’s about to doze off, a headline flashes across her screen that reads ‘Explosion at Coney Island as private plane crash lands on the beach’. And, well, that doesn’t send much hope into her system.
She calls Peter and no answer, so she contemplates calling Ned back, but her nerves are running on such high alert that she doesn’t end up doing that and instead stares at her ceiling for ten more minutes.
Until she hears a knock at her window.
Scrambling out of bed and nearly tripping over her own feet, Michelle opens the window to reveal a soot-covered, ragged but still very much alive Peter Parker. She exhales a breath she didn’t realize she was holding and tilts her head slightly.
“I’m not letting you in until you shower.”
“You’re so mean to me, MJ,” Peter replies with an exaggerated groan but then he grips his abdomen and coughs, and she pulls him inside immediately anyway. “Ouch—”
“Shit, sorry—”
“It—it’s okay. My ribs…and the rest of my entire body are just a little bruised is all. No big deal.” He falls onto her bed like a ragdoll, ripped suit and all, and she sits down next to him, unsure of what to do. He ends up settling his head in her lap, eyes half-closed. “Can I stay here?”
“I’m sure May’s going to wonder where you are eventually,” Michelle begins to say, raising an eyebrow, but he makes a muffled sound and shakes his head. Well, as much as he can with it in her lap.
“No, can I just stay…” He gestures to her lap, the way he’s situated with his head resting on her thigh. “Here? With you…for a little while.”
“Yeah. Of course.” She bites her lower lip and doesn’t know what to do with her hands, so she plants them firmly on the bed and remains silent. She almost thinks he’s fallen asleep on her due to the long lasting quiet, but then he finally speaks again.
“Toomes is alive, but the police are taking care of him. The plane went down and I couldn’t just let him—you know…but there was an explosion and I think Coney Island’s gonna be closed for a while,” he says all in one breath, cracking an eye open to look up at her.
“That’s good. You did good,” Michelle tells him quietly, bringing her left hand to his head, combing her fingers through his matted hair, and he smiles a little bit with a dazed look on his face.
“He also dropped a parking garage on me.”
“See…you didn’t need to tell me that,” she says with a flat tone while her other hand finds his cheek, grateful that he’s okay and in one piece. “I’m glad you made it out of that though.”
“Yeah, me too,” Peter hums tiredly, his gaze half-lidded and floating around her room like he’s in a dream. It lands on her closet doors where her dress is hanging, his purple tie draped over the knobs, and a stupid grin appears on his face. “Hey, that’s mine.”
“Did you hit your head too?”
“Ha, ha, no. Not this time,” he mumbles, sitting up halfway so that their noses are an inch apart at most, and it makes her heart skip a beat. He can definitely hear that, judging on the way he smiles. “I’m just surprised you kept it.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not like I would’ve given it to Ned. You needed a reason to come here, anyway,” Michelle reminds him with a shrug, and his eyes dip briefly to her lips before meeting her gaze once again.
“You’re the reason I came here,” Peter says quietly, and she releases a soft laugh, biting the inside of her cheek. “MJ, you’re…”
“What?” she asks, dropping her head slightly, hair tumbling into her face, and his hand comes up to tuck it behind her ear, lingering. “Don’t make me wait another year to hear what you’re really thinking.”
Peter inhales sharply, his throat bobbing as he swallows, before he closes his eyes as well as the distance between them. He kisses her softly, clumsily, thumb brushing her cheekbone, and it’s enough of a reassurance for her that what she’s been feeling all this time hasn’t just been one-sided.
Their noses bump and an almost helpless sound escapes the back of his throat when she presses her lips to his once again, only stopping once for a breath of air. He sits up fully so that he can take her face in both hands, kissing her in a way that feels like it’s been built up for years.
“Sorry,” he breathes when they part after a moment, lashes dipping, foreheads resting together. “If that was bad. I’ve never really done that before…but I wanted it to be with you.”
“Is that so?” she hums with a smile that cracks across her face, inevitably, him being the entire source of the warmth in her chest right now.
Peter releases a shaky exhale, looking down and tangling their fingers together. “I really like you, MJ. For so long now, and I should’ve said it sooner, but I wasn’t sure if you…”
“I do. I mean, if it wasn’t clear by now…I really like you, too,” Michelle tells him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she grins. And his eyes meet hers, crinkling at the corners, like he loves the sound of that, like it’s something to be really happy about.
“That—that’s great,” he whispers, smiling and dropping his forehead against her shoulder so she gets a face full of his hair. And that’s before he tightly wraps his arms around her waist, releasing an overdramatic groan as he brings her down with him against the mattress so they’re lying face-to-face. “I’m so tired.”
“Oh, do you want to go—”
“Can I kiss you again?” Peter rushes out instead, flustered, and she blinks at him before biting back a laugh and saying go for it . So he does, sliding his palm up her neck, his lips finding hers so quickly that it feels as if they could’ve been doing this for ages and no one would know a difference, least of all them.
“Hey, Meesh, did you want me to call in—” Her father’s voice stops mid sentence, the door creaking open, while Michelle breaks away from Peter and squeezes her eyes shut. She can’t exactly push him off the bed this time when they’re tangled together the way they are. “Oh, no. No, nope. You , get the hell out of here.”
“Oh, god, I’m so sorry, sir,” Peter rambles, already moving off the bed, and she’s about to tell him that’s not the best idea because his torn suit is now in full view, and well. Her father puts the clues together rather quickly. It shows plain as day on his face. “Ah…shit.”
“Shit is right,” her father says slowly, giving him a once over before looking at Michelle with an expression that reads what the hell have you gotten yourself into .
“He threatened me,” Peter whispers in a frantic voice as he follows her down the hall to her locker, and Michelle simply rolls her eyes because that’s a bit of an exaggeration.
“He didn’t…threaten you. He just…” Michelle trails off and figures she can just leave that sentence open-ended for Peter’s head to fill in himself. “Anyway, he doesn’t hate you, so stop worrying about that.”
“That’s like telling me to shut up,” he continues with a snort, and she heartily agrees to that while shoving books into her locker. “I just don’t feel like getting murdered by your dad anytime soon, that’s all.”
“Don’t break my heart and you’ll be fine,” she jokes, and Peter swallows, nodding his head.
“I’ll try my hardest.”
“That’s all I’m asking,” Michelle hums, tilting her head slightly to see his pout turn into a smile, which then turns into him leaning forward for a kiss because, as it appears, Peter really likes kissing her. Which is nice.
“Woah, what did I miss?” Ned’s voice rings out from behind them, and when Michelle turns around, she sees the absolute gobsmacked expression on his face. But there’s a hint of finally, you idiots . “I was gonna talk about the whole thing with Toomes, but I’d much rather speak on the fact that it took you guys ages— ”
“Okay, okay, shh,” Peter rushes out, but Michelle’s attention is drawn over to Liz—who’s cleaning out everything from her locker. And her heart sinks somewhere in her chest.
“I’ll be back,” she tells them absently, already on her way over to Liz who straightens up upon seeing her coming. “Hey. Um, are you…”
“Leaving? Yeah. I mean, I’m sure you’ve heard since everyone watches the news,” Liz exhales shakily, offering a weak smile. “But there’s not much I can do about it, so we’re going to Oregon.”
“I was going to ask if you were okay,” Michelle says, biting the inside of her cheek to temper the sadness she feels at the idea of Liz leaving. They’re friends, after all.
“I…I guess? Yeah, I…” Liz shrugs, her face falling, so Michelle brings her into a hug, feeling the way tears seep into the fabric of her shirt. “God, sorry, I shouldn’t be this…emotional about it, but…”
“No, I get it,” she murmurs, squeezing her tighter for a moment before they pull apart. “I’m gonna miss you, so…keep in touch?”
“I will.” Liz wipes her face with the back of her hand and manages a more genuine smile this time. “And I’m glad to see that you and Peter are…in a good place now. Good luck with everything, Michelle.”
“Thanks,” Michelle breathes with a small nod, shoving her hands in her pockets as Liz collects her last box. They exchange one more look before she starts walking off to meet up with her mother, and they leave the school together.
“She’s not coming back?” Peter asks, appearing next to her with a deeply set frown on his face.
“She’s moving to Oregon.”
“That sucks,” he mumbles, rubbing at his temple, probably thinking up a way for it to be his fault, but it’s only her father’s fault. And they all know it.
The rest of the day is rather uneventful, other than the fact that Michelle gets promoted to AcaDec captain, much to her own surprise. But Liz recommended her, which makes her feel both honored and saddened at the reminder. She finishes the meeting by saying, “All my friends call me MJ.”
The whole team are her friends, really, and Michelle catches Peter’s smile at her, the way he’s pleased that Ben’s nickname for her continues to make its rounds. Her heart aches, but more so in a good way now rather than a bad way as time continues to pass.
“Oh, hey. You’re late.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” Peter apologizes, tumbling inside her bedroom with the suit that Stark had kindly returned to him just the other day—along with an offer to stay upstate with the rest of the Avengers. But he said thanks, but no thanks , if only because protecting the little guy will always come before standing with the big leagues. It’s a nice sentiment, at least.
“Don’t say sorry. I was honestly hoping you wouldn’t show up at all,” Michelle tells him with a shrug, and he gives her a mock-offended look through the mask. “You know I'm going to hate this.”
“You might not hate it?”
“Whatever you say.” Michelle wraps her arms around his neck, legs around his waist, and Peter makes a muffled squeaking sound from inside his mask before securing her tightly to him. “If you let me go—”
“I promise I’ll never let you go,” he tells her seriously, but his grin is practically audible in his voice. She simply rolls her eyes and ducks her face into the crook of his neck as he clambers back out the window and onto the bit of their roof that’s flat. “You ready?”
“Not real—”
Michelle screams the second he jumps off the ledge, immediately squeezing her eyes shut, her stomach swooping more than it had the first time they kissed. It’s really not fair how he’s whooping like this is a blast, but whatever. It’s fine, completely.
“Having fun yet?” Peter shouts over the wind, and she can’t even bring herself to open her eyes, lest she catch a bug in them or something. So she shakes her head yes—a lie, probably—and holds on tighter.
“I can’t believe—” Michelle feels her stomach drop as he releases another web and she almost swallows her tongue. “That you do this all the time.”
“It’s better with you here,” he laughs.
“Shut up ,” she grunts, only for her to feel his grip slipping from her waist as he quite literally swings her above his head before they’re freefalling back down. She hopes she burst his eardrums with the shriek she let out honestly, because what the hell . “Peter!”
“I’m sorry, I had to,” he wheezes, and by the time they land on the fire escape to his apartment, she wonders what she did to deserve this. Either way, she climbs into his bedroom, ignoring his laughs. “Haha, please don’t be mad at me.”
“Too late.”
“MJ,” Peter drawls out, endearing as he pulls his mask to reveal his soft smile. He takes her hands, bringing her a bit closer so that their noses brush and she can see all of the freckles lightly dusting his face. “Forgive me?”
“Maybe in one to two business days,” she settles on, and he grins, leaning in to kiss her. It’s gentle, becoming familiar, and she can feel the smooth fabric of the suit as his hand comes up to cup her jaw. “Consider yourself lucky, Parker.”
“Yeah. I’ve really hit the jackpot here,” he utters earnestly, eyes flicking across her face, and she smiles as he kisses her again, arms wrapping around her waist.
“Hey, Pete, do you have any laundry—” May’s voice rings out, the door swinging open because they really haven’t learned how to lock them, and his eyes widen in panic as her sentence abruptly cuts off. “What the f—”
“Not again,” Peter exhales, dropping his forehead to rest against Michelle’s as she bites back a laugh.
“Karma.”