Archive of Our Own

“Stop staring at me, loser.”

“Sorry ba—Michelle. Sorry, Michelle,” Peter says, ducking his head quickly.

She furrows her brows.

What did he almost call me? “I thought I was ‘MJ’?”

“Ah—yeah. MJ. Sorry. Again.”

The news plays another clip of Spider-Man (along with an assortment of other Avengers) serving Sokovian citizens food. His suit’s eyes articulate into what looks like a smiling pair of eyes, and he waves at the passing cameraman.

Ned points excitedly at the clip, tapping MJ’s side incessantly with his feet. “There’s our boy!”

“Peter Benjamin Parker,” MJ says with a sleepy lilt, sinking into the couch, “don’t forget us when you’re a big-shot international superhero, aight?”

Peter laughs, adjusting himself so he could hug her tighter. “Michelle Jones, you’re dumb.”

“You wanna say that again?” she threatens weakly, nudging him with her elbow as she leans into him.

Ned swipes and taps frantically at his phone for a second, then leans back on the armrest. “Rolling! Feel free to dig your own grave, dude.”

“You’re dumb,” Peter repeats, placing his head on her shoulder. “I’ll never forget you two.” He sticks his tongue out at the camera. “Don’t forget me.”

MJ chuckles, eyes drooping. “Kinda hard to, when you smother me at first sight every day.”

“No do-overs in life, MJ,” Ned laughs, locking his phone and putting it away.

Ned huddles by Peter as usual, but his whispers don’t reach her ears, which is new.

When did he learn subtlety? MJ thinks, hunching over her book.

(When she woke up, there was a marker by the last chapter, and it annoys her to no end that she could be on to a different novel by now if she could just remember.)

“Hey, MJ,” Ned says with uncharacteristically low-energy, “wanna come over later and watch something fun?”

She knows they’re supposed to be her close friends (best friends, if she listened to what Sally and Cindy had to say), but all she knows-knows is Peter’s Spider-Man and Ned helps sometimes. She quirks a brow but doesn’t look up. “Like?”

“The Last Jedi?”

“That isn’t fun.”

“You loved it, you thought it was cheesy,” Peter mumbles, stuffing his face into his hands.

Defeat.

“I don’t…” she starts, frowning.

Did that come out already? Wasn’t it premiering later this year?

Being mentally stuck in sophomore year sucked.

“I don’t remember it,” she says finally, “and I don’t know why I’d say that.”

“Because,” she hears Peter groan, and finds him digging the heels of his palms over his brow ridge and eyes.

(He’s been doing that a lot the last couple of days, and Ned tells her he hasn’t been sleeping well since she got cleared to go back to school.)

He groans again. “You had fun wi—”

“—ith us,” Ned cuts in a little forcefully, and oh.

Okay.

They’re hiding something.

“...Sorry,” she says, even though it feels wrong to say.

Peter furrows his brows in concern, and puts his hands back on the table. “It’s—hey, it’s okay, I’m sorry, I just…”

“So our first date is Star Wars?”

Peter squeezes her hand. “Don’t pretend you don’t love Star Wars, MJ, that’s when you suck at lying.”

“Yeah, well, it’s definitely more enjoyable with you, dumbass,” she smirks, kissing his cheek. For fun.

“...I just, um, forgot, that you like to pretend you hate geek stuff,” Peter laughs shakily.

MJ squints at him. “How do you kn—oh. Right. Friends.”

Friends who I just barely remember hanging out with.

Amnesia sucks.

Ned nods carefully, glancing at Peter. “Yup. Friends.”

“Friends,” Peter repeats, smiling warmly at her.

MJ feels her cheeks warm against her will, and she raises her book abruptly.

What?

The hell?

Is this?

...I am not getting a crush on this idiot.

Not while I can’t remember 70% of our interactions.

“Oh!” she hears Ned say, and it brings her back. “Almost forgot.”

A sleek, black phone enters her view, blocking the exact paragraph she was on. She lowers the book again.

“Your new phone!” he says, grinning ear to ear. “Should be unbreakable.”

“Like the old Nokia’s?” she jokes, and huh, that’s familiar.

“Toss it at the wall, loser.”

“Toss or throw?”

“Dude, who cares! ‘Super-strength VS Nokia 3310: Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story’!”

“1) We’re not calling it that. 2) We can’t show this to the public, Ned.”

“Not with that attitude, MJ.”

“Probably better,” he replies, tapping at the logo on the back. “Because, you know.”

MJ turns the device over, and is greeted by the logo of a ¾-facing, roaring...leopard? Panther? “...I don’t, but okay.”

Ned frowns. “You don’t remember her, either?” He turns to Peter, high-key distressed. “She doesn’t remember her! This is gonna be hell.”

“They’ll get to meet again, at least?” Peter shrugs unhelpfully.

(If his awkward smile makes MJ think about Things That Shouldn’t Be In Her Brain, she doesn’t flinch.)

“That’s the ‘hell’ part, dude.”

“Probably,” Peter replies, turning to MJ. “You have a doctor’s appointment on Saturday, right?”

She’s still getting used to the two of them knowing her schedule by heart, and it’s still freaking her out a little bit, but: “Yeah?”

He grins. “Sweet. Wanna go upstate after? Time to re-meet your best friend.”

MJ frowns, ignoring her sped-up heartbeat. “I thought you two were my best friends? What’s the truth here?”

“We are,” Ned complains, lying on the table over his crossed arms. “I am,” he adds, squinting pointedly at Peter, “but there’s a fourth. She’s not here a lot, though.”

MJ pulls out a pen, and writes something on a spare napkin. She slides it to them.

Superhero stuff?

Ned and Peter nod once, simultaneously.

She smirks.

This was gonna be fun.

...Now, if she could just chill with the palpitations...

“She” turns out to be Princess Shuri.

Of Wakanda.

MJ Jones is best friends with Princess Shuri of Wakanda.

“...You’re messing with me,” MJ deadpans, staring at the royal. She points to the two boys on either side of her. “You managed to blackmail her—somehow—to mess with me.”

“I’m a busy woman,” Shuri says, smirking. “I could leave, if you would like that.”

“I’m—no, wait. Seriously?” MJ asks, tilting her head. “I just—I feel like I’d remember being tight with the kid genius who invented most of her country’s new tech.”

Shuri frowns. “I’m nineteen.”

MJ shrugs. “I have amnesia.”

“She hasn’t really changed,” Shuri says, nudging Peter. “You must be glad, eh, Parker? She could’ve had a whole personality makeover.”

Peter coughs in response.

(MJ thinks she hears him say something like Wouldn’t matter to me, but she’s not sure, because, again, he’s somehow learned subtlety.)

“Or a Scottish accent,” Ned quips.

Shuri quirks a brow.

“Read it once,” he shrugs, turning back to MJ. “So yeah. MJ, Shuri. Shuri, your favorite American.”

“I thought I was your favorite American?” a voice says from above them.

“Hey, Tony,” Shuri waves, then gestures to all of them. “Technically, you are all my favorite Americans. Because diplomacy.”

“That’s political, and boring,” Tony says, frowning.

She shrugs. “I promised my brother.”

“The King is also both of those things, Shu,” he replies, then notices MJ. He raises his arms like he’s Gatsby at a party. “Look who’s up and melting steel! Good afternoon, Sunshine.”

Peter’s eyes widen, and he turns to Tony before MJ can make a comment about being talked down to. “Tony, she’s—she doesn’t remember you,” he says, gesturing vaguely. “So the—you know.”

“Oh.”

“What’s up, Sunshine?”

“Stick it where it don’t,” MJ smirks. “The usual, Tony. 'Sup?”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” Tony says, pursing his lips, “welcome for the second-first-time, then, Michelle.”

“Uh. Thanks...Mr. Stark?” MJ says carefully.

Tony balks.

“...Tony.”

“There she is!” he says, snapping his fingers. “Deadpan as ever.”

“Is he always this dramatic in real life?” she asks, squinting at Iron Man’s alter ego.

“Yes,” Peter says.

“Pretty much,” Ned says.

“It’s good to have you semi-back,” Shuri says, slinging an arm over MJ’s shoulder. “But yeah.”

Tony pouts. “I like to think I’m more, but I’m holding back for MJ—Michelle’s sake.”

“What, I’m close with you, too?” MJ asks, eyes wide. “What the hell?”

“More like you wiggled your sarcastic self into my presence—uninvited—multiple times, and helped free some old friends of mine, but sure, I’d say we’re reasonably close,” the billionaire replies, before motioning to Peter with his folded shades. “We share custody, in case you forgot that, too.”

“TONY!” Peter, Shuri, and Ned yell simultaneously, with varying levels of guilt and I’m so sorry, he isn’t housebroken yet written on their faces.

He shrugs. “What? She’s smart, she’ll—”

“—Tony. I. Need to talk. To you. In the lab,” Shuri grinds out, glaring at him and nodding in the direction of the Science Wing.

To his credit, Tony looks adequately apologetic and terrified. “Yes. That. Meeting. I’ll see you there, Princess.”

He salutes and trudges towards the back of the hall, his footsteps disappearing from hearing.

Shuri turns to MJ, bowing exaggeratedly and smiling sweetly. “Excuse me, I have some business to attend to.”

“Yeah, uh,” MJ starts, frowning, “that sounds like you’re making something up so you don’t have to expla—”

“Bye, Jones!” Shuri yells, already halfway into the tunneled hall.

“Bye? I guess?” MJ replies, turning to her boys. “What was that ab…”

Huh.

Her boys.

That. That’s familiar.

"How are my boys doin’?” MJ asks, gliding over on her skates.

“Wobbly,” Peter frowns hilariously, grabbing the sides of the rink. “Really, really wobbly.”

“Weak,” she teases.

Ned taps her shoulder, and skates to a spot near the middle, spinning on one foot.

“Dude!” MJ laughs with raised arms, abandoning her boyfriend. “What! That was lit!”

“Ned’s a cheater! He’s been skating since he was a baby!” Peter yells from the walls, knees shaking.

“Don’t sulk, babe, it makes you look like more of a loser than usual,” she says, before turning to Ned and clapping approvingly. “Look at you—all smooth and Olympic-worthy.”  

“Thank you, thank you!” Ned bows to the non-existent audience, sending flying air-kisses their way. “I’m here all evening!”

“Our time’s up in ten.”

“—I’m here for the next ten minutes! Unless someone wants to pay for my next hour!”

“Goofball,” MJ laughs, shaking her head.

“Uh, you okay, MJ?” Ned asks, steadying her arm.

When did she stumble?

Peter stays mostly at arm’s length, but catches her other elbow with a firm grip. “Breathe.”

“Something tells me you’ve done this before,” she jokes.

Or tries to.

(She’s close enough this time; he mutters Not on this side of it, and there it is—the tug, again.)

Peter helps her to the ground. “With me. One…”

In.

“Two…”

Hold.

“Three…”

Out.

“Good job, MJ,” he whispers, two feet too far.

“I’m not having a panic attack, Pete,” she replies, not unkindly.

“Peter? You okay?”

“I—” Inhale. “—will be.”

“C’mere.”

“What was it?” Ned asks softly.

Concerned.

MJ turns to Peter, squinting. “We went skating?”

He blinks. “Uh—yeah, we’ve gone. A couple times. Why?”

The word babe echoes in her head, and it’s messing with everything around her.

“No reason,” she coughs. “Just remembered something.”

Ned quirks a brow. “About skating?”

Something in his tone suggests knowing, or wanting to.

Something in it makes Peter twitch.

Something in it tells MJ she’s got an idea of what they’re hiding.

So she lies.

“Yeah,” she says, turning to Ned. “You did a spin thing. And I think Peter hugged the walls.”

“That’s great!” he exclaims. “That’s super great! You—”

“That was it, though.”

“...Oh.”

“Yeah, just. Snippets.” She says the last word with thick disappointment, and watches Peter’s reaction.

His tell hasn’t changed, she thinks with a small smile.

She watches him gulp, raise his hand and touch his temple, then pout.

Two years, and he hasn’t changed.

“That’s—” he starts, clearing his throat again, “—that’s great! And too bad, but—but mostly great.” Cough. “I’ll um, I’ll check on—” he juts a thumb toward the hallway Shuri’d disappeared through, “—those two. Before they put like, rockets on my suit or something, hah. Ahem.”

Ned doesn’t bother with a cover-up, content with squatting by her side as their friend leaves the room.

They go home in Ned’s car and try to jog her memory with So do you at least remember the time Peter got Doc Ock Chinese-wrappered on 6 ½ Ave? and Clint still thinks you’re the secret holder of the Soul Stone, you know and Wanda’s been asking if you’re up for a chess match and Ooh! Do you remember Sam? He gave you a ride once and you almost died!

“I feel like I’d rather...not remember that,” MJ says.

“But it was fun!” Ned says, merging onto the highway. “I’m pretty sure I’ve got a vid of it somewhere.”

“Dude, she didn’t know you recorded that,” Peter hisses.

“Oh. Shoot. You right.”

“Wow, I have terrible friends,” MJ blanks, reclining her seat.

Peter grins. “Missed hearing that.”

MJ wants to laugh, but there’s something earnest in the way he says it, so she settles for a disbelieving: “Really?”

“You have no idea,” he replies, breathless.

She spots Ned smile sadly from her peripheral view.

Peter sighs with exhaustion behind her, and something in her chest feels like a thousand knives decided to make their home there.

What was I to you? she thinks with increasing agitation, closing her eyes. What were we?

Nothing new (old?) returns to her on the way home.

And it’s frustrating, because all she can think of is a dopey smile and caring eyes and a laugh she doesn’t hear nearly enough.

“Thank you,” Peter says, leaning on her shoulder.

“For?” She keeps sketching Ned’s sleeping form on Peter’s desk, ink from the fountain pen he was using splashed around his chin and cheek.

“Nothing. Everything. Just...thank you. For being my friend.”

She laughs lightly because who is he to thank her? “Thank Ned.”

“I always thank Ned.”

“But?”

“But if you didn’t wanna come, you wouldn’t have. So—yawn—take the thank you, Gigantor.”

Ned watches MJ disappear into her house and frowns at his new seatmate. “And we’re still not telling her because…?”

“Because I don’t want her to like me just because I told her we were dating before the accident,” Peter says resolutely, lying down in the shotgun seat.

(He’s learned that taking naps whenever he can helps with the impulse control—the inherent frustration at someone’s memories taking their sweet time to return. He hasn’t slipped up as bad as the first few days, and that’s all he could ask for.)

Ned tsks. “Dude, you’re implying she’s the type of person who just accepts the status quo.”

“No, but it could confuse her, and if we get back together…” he exhales, “...if we get back together, I want it to be because she likes me, and without me guilting her with memories.”

“Okay,” Ned says, turning to him at a red light. “But you do realize I can’t talk to her about pretty much everything starting winter of last year, right?”

Peter frowns. “Sure you can.”

“Dude, we did almost everything together, except those dates you two went on, and I’m pretty sure there’ll be a reference to you being a Thing in anything else.”

“...I hate this.”

Green.

“Join the club,” Ned blanks, gunning the engine.

“When she wakes up, there’s a high chance her memories will be impaired.”

Peter holds her hand, the scars from the fire fading. “Permanently?”

“Temporarily, we think. Hard to tell until she’s awake,” the doctor replies, offering a sad smile. “But she’ll be whole otherwise. She’s lucky Spider-Man showed up when he did.” She nods at him and Ned, then excuses herself.

Ned puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Not your fault.”

“Man, it kinda is.”

“You didn’t set it on fire.”

“I didn’t get there fast enough.”

“You’ve been doing this too long to still think that’s a smart line of thought, dude.”

Peter smiles begrudgingly. “You’re getting way too good at stopping me from going down the rabbit hole.”

“Promised MJ.”

“Good incentive.”

“She’s scary.”

“True,” Peter says, leaning down to kiss MJ’s forehead. “When you wake up, I’ll still be your best friend.”

Ned sniffles behind him.

“You be whatever you want to be, got it?” he whispers. “Fall in love with whoever you want to. I don’t mind. Just be happy. Please, just...be happy.”

“And don’t forget I’m your fave,” Ned adds lightly, patting her head.

“Yeah,” Peter laughs, wiping away a tear with the back of his thumb. “Don’t forget Ned’s your fave.”

“Ned,” she stage-whispers after Peter leaves Decathlon practice the next day.

Ned gives her a You can use full volume, literally no one else is here look.

Don’t sass me, boy, she glares back.

He shrugs and walks over. “What’s up?”

“Don’t laugh,” she says seriously, glaring at him.

He quirks a brow.

She takes a deep breath. “I need to ask you something.”

“...Please don’t ask me out, that would be super weird,” Ned flatlines, scrunching up his face.

MJ glares harder, crossing her arms. “You’re not my type.” And “my type” keeps running away before I can ask him anything important.

“Oh, I know,” he replies immediately.

“What?”

“Ignore that,” he squeaks.

“I—whatever,” she says, waving a hand. “Listen. I’m—I hate this brain fog thing. And the fact that I’m captain but barely know the cards? That’s a real punch in the gut.”

“I could sub for you,” Ned offers.

“That would help, thanks.”

“No problem, MJ.”

“I feel like I didn’t earn graduation,” she says, slumping into a nearby chair. “This sucks.”

“I don’t know, dude, seems like a sweet deal to me.”

She frowns at him. “Leeds. Amnesia.”

“Jones,” he copies, “No finals.”

“Modified finals.”

“Still.”

“I can’t remember two years of my life.”

“That’s a sucky price, but,” Ned grins, raising a finger. “Consider: you get to experience stuff for the first time all over again.”

MJ huffs. “Like what?”

“Like your first time running point at The Chair, or setting up a prank with me, or setting up a prank with Shuri, or, I dunno, your first date with P—” his eyes widen. “Um. Or. Or not that.”

Her eyes widen. “With who?”

“‘Whom’.”

“...The point, Ned.”

“With someone...you like...out of your own free will…?” he squeaks in rising pitch.

And, because he’s a lucky sucker: his phone rings.

“GottagoMama’soutside,peace,loveyou,feelbetter!” he half-yells, running out the door.

youre not off the hook

y cant i be

why does everyone keep dodging when I have an ACTUAL question

maybe some things shouldnt b asked ykno

the hell kinda logic is that? I need answers about the last two years

n ull get em

but?

[Seen 23 minutes ago.]

She curses her old phone for not having a backup past a point she still remembers, and the bookstore for burning down while she was in it.

It’s making research harder, and she hates it, because she’s gotta deal with people she doesn’t remember talking to coming up to her at graduation to thank her for the study guides.

Study guides she and Peter had apparently compiled and passed around for Physics and English classes.

“When did we start doing that?” she asks after the ceremony.

“Last sem,” Ned says after sharing a look with Peter.

“It was your idea,” Peter adds, the faintest smile on his lips.

“I blame you for making me care more than usual.”

“...Is that a thank-you?”

“...No, it’s an I-love-you.”

Two weeks after graduation, May finds her alone on the couch, stretched out and sketching figures on ice and a blurry memory of dancing in a sea of people.

“Hey, sweetie—how are you feeling?” May says, plopping down on the armrest by her head. “The boys abandoned you?”

“Hi, May,” MJ replies, offering a one-sided smile. “Yeah, they went to pick up sandwiches.”

“Is that prom?” the older woman asks, pointing at the dancing.

MJ sits up, her eyebrows knitting together tightly. “On the right? I’m not sure. Might be. I keep catching glimpses of it when I dream.”

“You had a good time there.”

“Did I? Or are you making up false memories for me?”

May laughs. “I saw the videos Ned and Peter took. You actually danced, you know.”

“Would be nice if they showed them to me,” she mutters. “Every time I ask for something after January of last year, they act like I asked for the Declaration of Independence.”

“That can be stolen.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“‘Can’, hon. Not ‘should’.”

Sigh. “I feel like a dog getting promised a bone and finding kibble.”

“They’ve got their reasons.”

“Yeah, well,” MJ huffs, rubbing her temples. “It’s severely limiting the speed of my recovery.”

“You got out a month and a half ago, MJ. You don’t need to pressure yourse—”

“I already remember pretty much everything up until December.”

May blinks. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Everything?”

MJ squints. “Well…”

It feels like dust settling—blocks of black that she hasn’t filled completely, but knows the gist of.

No.

Not black.

Red.

And gold.

Not fire and fury—more like the painted sky, or fall leaves.

A feeling of home and comfort she can’t place or put a name to.

Hands holding hers.

Glances, snuck through crowds and silent spaces.

Someone is there, and she has a good guess, but it’s hard when no one wants to help you confirm it.

(The worst part, she realizes, is that she wants it to be true.

There is no one else she would rather have there, and she hopes, because pining is painful.)

She clears her throat. “I feel like I’m supposed to know how to act around certain people, but I can’t remember with whom, or why. And—May, I don’t know, I feel like there’s this family I’m a part of, but I’ve got this huge wall blocking me from them, and I just can’t—”

Someone’s laughing and someone’s hugging and someone’s handing her food and someone's taking her to protests and more, and more, and more…

And more, but she can’t see them.

They’re too far.

She balls her hands into fists, frowning. “—I can’t climb it.”

May puts an arm around her, rubbing her back consolingly.

“Sorry,” MJ says, leaning over. “I’m being stupid.”

“You’re not. Have you tried chipping at it?”

MJ laughs bitterly. “With what?”

May smooths her hair, fixing a loose strand. “With that genius brain of yours.”

“Peter’s the genius.”

May smiles, and something clicks. “You’ve said.”

Click. “Have I?”

“Ned, you’ve got to stop encouraging him,” she says.

Ned guffaws at the screens, advice ignored.

“Okay, geniuses, if we’re done testing the ability of web-fluid to mummify Tony’s new suit, there’s an actual, valid reason why we’re using Shuri’s new comms tonight…”

“A few times.”

Click. “That’s interesting.”

“Say it, Parker!” Shuri yells, catching the hero in a headlock. “Say it!”

“You’re—a smart—”

“Boy, eat your pride,” MJ smirks, tickling his feet.

“You’re a geNIUS—HAHAHA—MJ, STOP—”

“See?” she says to Shuri. “Even this idiot genius can accept his fate.”

“...You’ve started chipping?”

Click. “You could say that.”

“Stop kissing me in public, you’ll get us in trouble,” she mumbles.

“Stop kissing back, then,” he laughs, barely pulled away.

She pulls his mask back up and pushes his face. “Smartass.”

“Boy genius,” he corrects, the mask copying his wink. “Want a ride home?”

“Hell no. I don’t want you to drop me off on a random roof again because there’s a dude robbing someone at knifepoint.”

“One time,” he laughs, climbing away.

“Eight, dumbass!”

The sound of the door knob unlocking jolts her back to the present, and May watches her with curious eyes as she smooths her features over.

“Hey, May!” Peter says from the doorway. He’s got two sandwiches in one hand and keys in the other.

“‘i , M’uh!” Ned says, a sub already in his mouth.

May smiles, walking back to her room. “Hey, you two! Chew, Ned.”

He nods, chewing, and walks over to the kitchen to scavenge for a drink.

Peter walks up to MJ, handing over her order. “Here ya go. Veggie Special. Mr. Delmar’s been asking about you, by the way.”

She just stares at him.

“How many times are we gonna go over the order before we actually buy the food, ‘cause I’m this close to cannibalism.”

“You’re a vegetarian and an activist, I’m calling your bluff,” Ned says.

Peter knits his brows at the little notepad, trying to decipher his own hasty scrawl. “So three subs, one with cheese, tomatoes, and bell peppers, other one with everything veg on it plus extra cheese and spinach...”

He quirks a brow, trying to pass the sandwich again. “MJ? Hello?”

“Extra spinach?” she asks, and something in his posture falters.

“Ext—yeah, yes, definitely,” he replies, perplexed. “Um, and your iced tea.”

“No sugar?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, and she doesn’t notice she’s failing at looking stoic. “Just the way you like it.”

She takes the food and drink. “Apparently.”

Peter takes a seat beside her. “Yup.”

(He’s searching her eyes for that spark, and he’s greeted with a fireworks show.)

“You okay there, Pete?” MJ asks, wrenching her eyes away.

“Always am,” he says, chomping down on his sandwich.

(Her heart’s beating fast, and his ears are filled with its symphony.)

“Not when you picked me up,” she says impulsively, and there.

There, she sees it.

She sees them.

Tony reads her latest dissertation on the importance of literacy in developing areas, and signs the proposal beside it.

 May drives her to her interview in Massachusetts, and kisses her cheek as she leaves the car.

Shuri hands her a small clicker and when she presses it Peter’s pants balloon into a safety raft.

Ned clings to her tightly as the elevator takes off, and he hates this and she gets it, but there’s only one way in and out of this building, so they had no choice.

“Which time?” he asks, even though he doesn’t have to.

“There’s only the one.”

 Peter’s voice is louder than the licking flames, but there’s a creak and—nothing.

His lips twitch to a smile, and MJ’s gone.

The ghost of her dreams is real, and he’s a short, dorky eighteen-year-old with a bad attraction to danger and a worse one to her.

And man, does she love his heart, and his brain, and his extreme lack of self-preservation.

“What’s up, Sunshine?” Peter whispers, low enough for only her to hear.

His eyes, his eyes, his eyes.

‘What was I’? she thinks, laughing softly to herself. Why would I ask that?

Why would I need to?

“Tony,” she says into the mic, “he’s been copying you.”

Peter shrugs, arm still on her waist. “Guilty.”

She grins, her cheeks straining to contain it. “Stick it where it don’t.”

Peter cloaks her in a hug, and she can feel his heart thumping, breath hitching and shaking. His grip is firm, and somehow the softest she can remember in recent history.

Remember.

What an interesting word.

“Mmk, Peter, change your alignment to ‘Chaotic Dumbass’.”

“What! Why?!”

“You tried to flirt your way out of a deal with an eons-old political figure with True Sight. And rolled a Nat1.”

He waggles his brows. “What if I tickle the DM?”

“I have the power to kill you off, so think on that.”

Ned laughs like a maniac, saying, “Can I roll for how bad that burn was?”

“Hey, Peter,” she whispers, hugging the boy like the day he first swung her around town. Don't let go.

“Hey, MJ,” he whispers back, muffled by her hair.

“Hey, so, I don’t want you to freak out or anything...” he says, and she freezes.

“That’s the worst thing to tell someone if you don’t want them to freak out, nerd.”

“It’s not bad, I promise.”

“You said that last week, and then ten minutes later you showed up at my room with ten cuts across your limbs,” MJ says, eyeing him carefully. “You’re not about to go hug a human meat grinder again, are you?”

“No, but it kinda feels like it,” Peter laughs shakily. “‘Cause I’m kinda terrified.”

She puts her hands on his shoulders, and Aw, she cares, because her first reaction is always to help, even if she denies it. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“I love you.”

“Okay.”

“No, I’m in love with you.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t freak out,” he laughs, touching her cheek. “Please don’t freak out.”

“I won’t,” she whispers, kissing him.

It feels like the end of the world, because this is heaven.

This is home.

She shakes her head, laughing a little louder, and Ned turns around in the middle of his hunt for the ultimate soda.

MJ smiles at him, still clinging onto Peter. “Wassup, nerd-son?”

(She feels her boyfriend—boyfriend; is he still?—chuckle, and the shake in his throat as he keeps tears at bay.)

Ned’s eyes widen and crinkle, and a toothy grin creeps up on his face. “MJ?”

“You look stupid, stupid,” she laughs choppily, raising a hand to wave him over. “Get in here, Leeds.”

Ned does that thing where he’s too happy to make a witty retort, and his body decides making random movements with his arms and hands is an acceptable alternative.

MJ snorts, hiding under Peter’s shoulder, eyes alight.

Ned whoops, running over and crash-landing into his friends.

“If I stay, MJ stays,” he says, steel in his eyes. “And I’m staying, Pete.”

“Thanks, nerd-son,” MJ nods, crossing her arms and glaring at Peter. “And don’t argue with us—we’ll be careful.”

Peter sags. “You could die. Both of you.”

“The world’s already ending, loser. May’s not running, either.”

“We’re good at what we do, dude,” Ned says, an encouraging hand clamped to MJ’s shoulder.

MJ smirks. “Get going. And don’t die.”

“Hey, buddy!” Ned yells into the couch, sniffling as he drapes his arms over MJ and Peter. “You suck!”

“You’re an idiot,” MJ replies, stretching her arms out to hug him back.

“...Can Pete breathe?”

There is a bubble of laughter coming from her chest that is muffled by hair and arms and the couch cover. “Dunno. Don’t care.”

(Peter nods into her shoulder as an answer, and she knows it wouldn’t matter if she never remembered him and them—she's already been dragged back by his gravity, and if she lost him a hundred times, she’d find him a thousand.)

“Peter?” she says, his hand firmly in hers over the table.

“Hmm?”

They’re watching the line of students getting lunch, and Ned’s up talking to Betty about junior prom.

She tugs him, and he leans over the table with I’m short and this is a very uncomfortable position written all over his face.

She leans over to his ear, cupping a hand over it to block the world. “I love you, too.”

He falls onto the table, and she snickers as the entire cafeteria tries to figure out why Peter Parker, Physics Nerd has decided to take a swim in the day’s questionable heap of “mashed potatoes” and “mixed greens salad”.

They stay huddled on the couch until Peter finally taps out because Air—please—Ned, that’s my windpipe.

May catches the tail end of the group hug and she covers her smiling mouth with shaking hands, gladder than glad.

“How far did the wall go?” she asks, finally making her way to MJ’s side of the couch.

“Turns out the foundation was weak,” MJ replies, looking at her boys. “Toppled like Thanos.”

“I gotta call Shuri,” Ned laughs, his left side stamped with the couch texture. He gets up, tapping the couch twice to announce his departure.

“Tell her she’s a B-Grade cook for me,” MJ jokes, trying to calm the mess that is her emotional state.

(She feels Peter’s hand by hers and she’s not sure.)

“I’ll go—I’ll go get um, water,” Peter stammers, glancing up at his aunt.

“Peter, sweetheart, never assume, okay?”

The small boy smiles up with gapped teeth. “Yes, May! Promise!”

MJ regrets one thing this day, and that is keeping her hand back.

May drives her home because Peter gets a Spider-Man call in the middle of their movie marathon. It’s a false alarm, and she figures May’s car is a better option than the subway at midnight on Friday.

“I can take you guys home—”

“It’s gonna take you twenty minutes to get back, hon. It’s not a big deal,” May says aloud at the car’s speakers.

“I missed May’s company,” MJ says pointedly, facing the radio/steering wheel area.

“Well, okay…”

“Quit moping, Ned’s still at your place.”

“That’s—” Huff. “—Okay, drive safe.”

“Excuse you? Who swerves every time he thinks he sees a squirrel?”

“I don’t wanna kill an animal!”

“Dude, they’re always like, three yards from the street when you see them. Every time.”

“Spider-sense!”

Something on Peter’s end snarls, and he curses as he hits something.

“—Okay, I think you need to swing with no distractions,” May says, finger hovering over the End Call button. “See you soon, love you.”

Peter curses again, but the swoosh of wind resumes. “Sorry. Love you. Um. Both of you.”

MJ clears her throat. “Uh, yeah, love you. Don’t kill a cat on your way back.”

Click.

“So,” May says, and well, she’s quick on the uptake. “Wanna explain why you two are being weird?”

MJ would’ve said no, but it’s May, and lying to May is some form of self-inflicted hell, so: “I don’t want to pressure him or anything, I guess.”

“Well, I gotta say, you two being on the exact same wavelength is a little terrifying.”

“...What do you mean?”

“Sweetie,” May laughs, and it’s the remnant fog clearing in slow-mo. “Why do you think he didn’t tell you before?”

MJ wrinkles her nose. “Because he thinks I’m smart and would figure it out?”

“Well—yes, but, have you considered he maybe didn’t want you to start liking him back just because you were his girlfriend?”

“That’s…” MJ frowns, voice fading.

That’s very Peter.

“Hey, you’re awake!” a boy says, laughing. “Ned, look! MJ’s awake!”

She frowns. “Who?”

“You, duh,” Ned laughs.

Ned Leeds.

And the other boy—

Peter?

What’re Peter Parker and Ned Leeds doing in a hospital room?

“Uh…where am I? I can’t miss Chem finals—”

Everything’s fuzzy in her head, and something’s very wrong.

She knows, because Ned’s not smiling anymore, and he keeps glancing at Peter with increasing urgency.

Peter frowns, and something in his eyes goes dim. “MJ, we haven’t had Chem since sophomore year.”

May turns on the radio. A throwback station plays a 90’s classic and she hums along.

MJ purses her lips. “I’m still—I mean, I got a crush on him. Again, I guess, technically. Like, a really, really, really big crush.”

“It took me two weeks to fall in love with Ben,” May says, eyes crinkling.

“You think I fell in love.”

“Took you three weeks the first time.”

Squint.

“I can’t legally look over because I’m not at a light and don’t want to be a bad example,” May says carefully but quickly, “and I know you think I’m teasing, but really, MJ, you did. Maybe less.”

“That’s moving quick.”

“You remember it, though.”

“Yeah, but—”

“I think we both know the minute you started liking Peter as more than a close friend was the minute everything started going at hyperspeed.”

“Someone’s been listening to the the NASA podcasts I sent last year.”

“You have good taste,” May smiles. “In a lot of things.”

“And him?” MJ asks, picking at her nails.

“You’re kicking yourself for asking.”

“...Yeah, a bit.”

“So you have your answer?”

“I hope a lot, May,” MJ says, treading slowly. “I don’t act like it, but I do.”

“You’re a smart girl.”

“He’s a loyal guy.”

May grins, pulling over at her townhouse.

MJ’s lips keep twitching up,a smile appearing and disappearing every other moment. “Thanks for the ride. It was enlightening.”

May beckons her over, kissing her forehead in goodbye.

Habit.

“Glad to be of service, MJ.”

She drags Peter to the closest park the next day, and sits down on a bench with a chipped armrest and questionable dirt stains.

“Am I being interrogated?” he jokes.

“I need to know if you're still in love with me,” MJ blanks, her eyes the only things betraying emotion. “And if you still want to be.”

“That’s...a loaded question,” he says, tapping his foot.

“Very.”

“I am,” he starts, inching his hand towards hers. “But I don't know if you—”

“I’m still in love with you.”

“—I don’t know if you just think that because you remember, or because you are,” he finishes, hand a centimeter away.

Careful.

Waiting.

“You were a problem when I woke up,” MJ says, moving her hand onto his.

“Because I was too in-your-face?”

“Because you made me calm.”

“What do you mean? I can’t—I can’t have amnesia.” she frowns, searching the room for her parents. “Where—”

“They just went out for some food, M—Michelle,” Peter says, and Ned leaves the room to call someone on the phone.

His hand is on her arm and she scours her brain for a reason to be upset, but Peter’s nothing if not nice, so what does she do with that?

“You and Ned…”

“We’re kinda close with you." Pause. "Closer than you remember.”

She furrows her brows. “You’re Spider-Man?” she whispers, just in case.

He grins at that. “Oh, good.”

“Did…” This is a dumb question, Michelle. “Did you save me?”

She feels the hand on her arm twitch, jerking upwards involuntarily, but Peter manages to keep it by her elbow.

His grin drops. “Yeah,” he says softly, “I’m sorry for being late.”

“You can’t save everyone.”

But you, his eyes say. You, I should’ve.

Her heart thumps, but it feels like a calm in the storm.

And she doesn’t know why.

“You’ve said,” Peter says.

“In the letters,” MJ says, her mind at 100%, finally.

Black and white and cream and blue papers are all over Shuri’s office floor, and the four of them write and draw and laugh—there’s so much laughter—until T’Challa finally steps in to corral the teens for dinner.

“In the letters.”

“I’m good at figuring things out.”

“I know.”

“So trust me,” she says, leaning closer. “I love you. Again. Twice over. Thrice. Every time, Peter.”

His breath hitches. “Th-That’s, that’s a lot of times.”

“I’m aware, nerd.”

“I just want you to be happy.”

MJ touches his cheek, and it’s fire. “I’m happiest being with a loser who got into MIT early, going on drives with his aunt, debating plotlines with a guy in a chair, and hanging out with a princess who has way too much free time.”

“Can’t argue with that logic,” Peter says, tilting up to kiss her quickly.

“That was a lame kiss,” she exhales.

“Your face is red.”

“So’s yours.”

“I’m pretty sure you liked it.”

Squint. “I would like to order two more, just to make sure.”

He quirks a brow. “In public?”

“I mean,” she shrugs, “the only other person here right now is passed out drunk.”

“You sure you’re all back?” he jokes, checking her temperature. “...Yep, still hot.”

“That’s the blood rush. And heat transfer from you—and no, that doesn’t mean I think you’re hot, quit making that face.”

“Killjoy.”

She kisses him.

“—I take it back,” he mutters a minute later. “You’re fun.”

“Love has objectively made me make so many bad choices,” she whispers.

“PDA in a park without anyone around is barely PDA, MJ.”

“...You just want to claim that second order.”

Peter pouts. “My girlfriend for a year and a half hasn’t remembered me for almost two months and I’ve been heartbroken over it, but go off, I guess.”

“Love you,” she laughs, swooping down.

“I love you.” Kiss. “I love you.” Kiss. “I love you, Michelle Jones.”

Her nose wrinkles appreciatively, a breath away from his face. “Thanks.”

He hugs her close. “Welcome back,” he laughs into her hair.

She hugs him back. “I never really left.”

They tell Ned and Shuri the way they always do: not at all, with a dose of smooches, and a waterfall of sarcasm.

Because sometimes you forget the people you love.

And sometimes, they let you.

But if you’re lucky?

You get an elite squad of superheroes asking you to play Mario Party, and your friends’ parental figures dragging you to Eat—you’ve been staring at the blueprints for over five hours, and your friends?

Well, they don’t mind if you change a little, or change a lot.

They just want to see you past Okay, and a little over Happy.

Because love is giving.

(MJ smiles. Peter's napping on her lap, and Ned’s on the floor with Shuri, spitballing AI functionality for their new comms.)

And that’s all they ever give.