Chapter Text
Everyone’s first time is embarrassing.
Everyone’s first time is embarrassing.
Somehow, chanting it over and over doesn’t make this moment any less horrific.
“It wasn’t that bad, Pete,” MJ says, but she doesn’t take his arm, doesn’t press against his side like usual. Her cheeks are still tinged pink, just like they’d been in the throes of their make-out session, just before he eased her to the blanket, just before—
Before—
Peter moans. “Don’t try to make this better.” He swears everyone on the street is staring at them. They’re fully clothed now, and the blanket they’d brought for the occasion is stuffed inside the duffel bag over his shoulder. But somehow, despite all the hidden evidence, he's absolutely certain everyone knows what happened.
“It wasn’t that bad.” MJ pauses, cheeks flushing further, and amends, “I mean, it could have been worse.”
“How?”
Now she gets that glint in her eyes, the competitive one that means he’s about to lose, badly. “You could have been all floppy.”
Peter chokes. Literally chokes, right there on 5th Avenue.
“Hey. You asked,” MJ says, breezily.
If he didn’t love her so goddamn much, he’d throttle her. Well, maybe that was extreme. Maybe he'd just sob heavily, dramatically, until she admits she was wrong for mentioning floppiness and tells him how studly and handsome he is.
“Don’t say that,” he begs.
“Superstitious?” She blinks innocently. When he doesn’t laugh, she snickers and presses an awkward kiss to his cheek. Awkward because they’re currently walking back to campus, and she’s a foot shorter than him, and he’s still absolutely mortified about what happened.
On their first—their first—
Peter can feel the humiliation all the way to his toes.
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“Come on, MJ! You didn’t even…” But suddenly, now, he can’t finish. Ironic, isn’t it? Feels like the Scorpion’s poison, slamming into his chest, spreading like toxic ooze until he’s shriveling into a Peter-shaped smudge on the pavement.
Actually, that might be preferable to this.
MJ coughs, clearing her throat, but he suspects she’s covering another laugh. He shrinks under her gaze, her soothing tone, as she says, “Come on, Pete, I never expected you to last long.”
What?
What?
“What?!”
She rolls her eyes, seemingly oblivious to the dagger she just shoved in his heart. “Just because you’re—” her eyes roam the passers-by, and she quietly amends, “—you know… it doesn’t mean you’re not new to this. Everyone’s first time sucks.”
Maybe the Vulture could just like, flatten him right here in the middle of the sidewalk. Just crunch him through the concrete until they both slam into the sewers, until he’s so unconscious he might be dead, which means he’ll never have to finish this conversation.
“Your first time didn’t suck,” he mumbles.
Now she winces. “I… might have exaggerated Brent’s, ah, expertise.”
Peter perked up, eager for stories of her ex’s sexual failures. “Really?”
“Let’s just say he spent a whole lot of time plowing the sheets and totally missing the mark.” Now MJ’s blush rivals Peter’s, which makes him feel a lot better. “Worst part is, I was too embarrassed to tell him. So he finished like that, and I—went home.”
“No way.”
“Yep. Gotta say, this was preferable. At least I know I was helping,” MJ laughs, but it’s one of those laughs she does to save face, pretend like she’s a lot more comfortable in a situation than she actually is.
Good to know Peter’s not the only one melting into the ground.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “If we try again, I’ll—fix it.”
“Hang on. If we try again?”
Peter’s heart skips a beat. God, he loves her. “I meant, when…?”
“Much better.” Now MJ does press against his side, her hands circling his arm. “Maybe next time, though, don’t pick a secluded rooftop without checking for security cameras.”
Peter buries his head in his hands.