Chapter Text
Michelle could never put her finger on when it started, but it was undeniable: Peter Parker was a pen thief. The boy never had a writing utensil, no matter how many he seemed to beg, steal, or borrow from his hapless classmates.
“Hey, Michelle,” she heard him hiss from behind her. They were in Spanish class and supposed to be working on a grammar packet…. silently .
“What?” she whispered harshly back. No verbal response; instead, one of his hands was suddenly in her periphery, making a grasping motion, like he was a baby or something. She sighed. “Words, buddy, use your words.”
“Can I borrow a pen?” Peter was using that wheedling tone that MJ knew always worked on teachers and old ladies. “Pleeeeeaaaseee?”
Without turning around, Michelle tossed her pen behind her. He’ll probably catch it, too. Stupid crazy reflexes .
“Thanks, MJ!” Ugh. She could practically hear the goofy smile that was surely plastered across his face right now. It was ridiculously easy to make that kid happy; he was like a Golden Retriever puppy.
“That’s the 12th pen you’ve stolen from me….this week.” she snapped. “Next time you ask for one, I’m gonna staple it to your shirt.”
She heard Ned snort and Peter make a noise of indignation, but then, thankfully, it was back to blissful silence. The only problem? Now MJ couldn’t stop thinking about the pens: namely, why she kept giving them to Peter. Anyone else who asked would’ve gotten a “I don’t think so,” or maybe a derisive scoff, but when Peter came around? It was like she was throwing beads off a Mardi Gras float. Like Oprah when she does that giveaway episode. “You get a pen! And you get a pen! Anyone named Peter Parker gets a pen!” Strange, huh? Practically sickening, right?
She shook her head slightly, refocusing on the work in front of her. Who needs to analyze their own psyche when you can analyze the Spanish verb “to be?” But, in the back of her somewhat brilliant mind, a plan was forming. If Peter wants pens….well, who am I to deny him?
MJ decided to strike about a week later. Element of surprise, and what not (she had read Sun Tzu’s Art of War, she knew how to plan a strike on the enemy). Her locker was six down from Peter’s and she was standing right in front of it as soon as the bell rang. Peter was meandering down the hall from whatever class he had just had, talking animatedly with Ned. They’re definitely still arguing about which Indiana Jones movie is the best one….dorks . She pretended not to notice them, going through the motions of shoving all her books into her backpack.
“Yeah, okay, but the Last Crusade has it all! Nazis, a treasure map, the Holy Grail; it has Sean Connery, Ned! You can’t argue with that!” Peter was spinning the combination on his locker lock and Michelle was on the edge of her seat. Come on, Parker, come on!
Peter was yanking on the handle, still talking to Ned “We should watch it thi- what the hell?!”
He was caught off guard by the literal waterfall of ballpoint pens that was now cascading out of his locker. They clattered on the floor, rolling every which way, causing quite the scene in the hallway.
“Dude, did you do this?” Peter whined at Ned, who was doubled over in laughter.
“No, I-I swear!” He wheezed. Michelle decided that this was her cue.
“Hey, Peter,” she sauntered up to him, stepping carefully over the pens.
“Michelle, hi, I don’t rea-” he was flustered, trying to ignore the pens that were still trickling from his locker.
“I was just wondering,” she paused for effect. “Can I borrow a pen?”
Peter was opening and closing his mouth furiously, at an utter loss for words. “I...I….you...pens?”
“Dude!” Ned looked at MJ, awestruck. “Nice!” He held up a hand for a high-five and MJ only hesitated for a few seconds before smacking it.
“MJ!” Peter seemed to have gotten some of his steam back.
“Yes, Peter?” Michelle smiled sweetly, batting her eyes. Peter was staring at her, almost like he was measuring her up. What he did next surprised her. Peter bent down, grabbed one of the pens off the floor, and held it out to her.
“Here you go,” he smiled and God, MJ could feel her heart melting. She found herself taking the pen from his hand and muttering something about stupid pens and stupid boys. Michelle turned and walked down the hall, hoping that maybe she could outrun this feeling, outrun these butterflies in her stomach, when Peter called her name.
“MJ!”
“What?” she whipped around quickly, crossing her arms over her chest. Peter was grinning in that dopey, totally-Peter-Parker way.
“Still gonna take your pens,” he shrugged slightly, then giggled (yes, giggled ). MJ felt that kick in her chest that meant her heart was beating double-time so, instead of whipping out a snarky comment, she just flipped a double-bird and continued down the hall.
She was confused and Michelle Jones, professional know-it-all, did not like being confused. Peter Parker was confusing, with his floppy hair and his too-big t-shirts and his hands that were constantly grabbing for her pens. He should just fade into the rest of Midtown, another boy, another annoyance in MJ’s life. But he stood out. She didn’t know why. But nothing stumped Michelle Jones for too long, and she was positive that, in due time, she would figure out Peter Parker. I mean, how hard could it be?