Chapter Text
Thursday March 7th, 2019. 10:33am, during AP biology with Ms. Ward. This was the exact date, time, and location that Peter Parker realised he liked Michelle Jones as more than just a friend. He almost fell out of his chair at this revelation, and he was pretty sure his skin tone went from “average white boy,” to “ripe tomato.”
Before Liz Allen (AKA: his former crush/fellow academic decathlon member/maybe ex-girlfriend/Peter doesn’t really know, okay?) moved away to Oregon following her criminal father’s incarceration, Michelle Jones (or, MJ, as her friends were told to call her) was just the casual, quick-witted, sharp-tongued classmate who sketched at the back of the room quietly, save for a few smart remarks usually against the dipwad known as Flash Thompson. But after Liz left, things changed. It was like Peter was no longer trapped in his “Liz bubble” (as Ned called it), and he actually began to notice what was going on around him. More specifically, he began to notice Michelle.
Not in a creepy way, no, not at all. He just, without even realising, started to observe small things about her; like the way she kinda bit her bottom lip when she was thinking (it happened a lot). Or how she usually wore her hair in a low ponytail, always leaving a curly strand loose and hanging against the side of her face. Or how she repeatedly had to tuck that same long strand of curly hair behind her ear during decathlon practice. Or how she always sat across from Peter and Ned at lunch, exactly three chairs away; no more, no less. Or how every day she drank the same kind of tea; David’s brand earl grey (Peter had seen the little tag hanging out, and he just happened to read it)
Honestly, his list of observations could go on and on. And it was on this exact day that he suddenly realised he had never really made observations like this about Liz. Sure, he had made mental notes about how pretty she was, or how fast she could correct someone’s wrong answer at a decath meeting, but his brain never went into extreme detail-mode like it did with Michelle. With her, he could describe every single part of her that he found pretty, or exactly how fast she could correct someone’s wrong answer.
He sighed, propping his head up on his closed fist as he stared off into space, lost in thought. He was hopeless; MJ would never like him back. She was so cool, and mysterious, and smart, and gorgeous, and, well, he was just plain-old Peter-
“-Parker!” A loud voice jolted him out of his thoughts, again almost sending him falling out of his chair. He frantically looked up at the source of the voice, his teacher, and followed her finger which was pointed at the board. A few calculations were scrawled out, and below it was an empty line, waiting for his answer. He knew that if he wasn’t distracted by MJ, he would have easily been able to answer the question. But since she was currently totally wrapped up in his thoughts, he couldn’t even speak. He stared at the board in silence.
Ms. Ward sighed. “Focus, please, Peter,” she looked around the class quickly, scanning the few raised hands. “Flash,” she decided.
Peter internally groaned as Flash quickly shot him a smug look before -correctly- answering the question. He slumped down on the desk, head resting on his folded arms, before a small object came whizzing from behind him, and hit the back of his head. He sat up, turning to look at the weapon now seated on his chair; a crumpled-up piece of sketchbook paper. He turned his gaze up to see the culprit, Michelle, sitting in the back corner of the room with a small half-snarky grin on her face.
Peter gave a "what was that for?" Gesture, and Michelle promptly held up her sketchbook, which read in large letters, “pay attention, dummy.”
Peter rolled his eyes, turning back around to face the front, once again resting his head on his arms. He blushed profusely the rest of the period at his inability to get Michelle’s smile off his mind.
When the bell rang, he quickly grabbed his stuff and raced out of class.
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By the time lunch rolled around, he had mostly forgotten about his encounter with MJ. That is until he joined Ned at their usual table in the cafeteria and realised she wasn’t in her normal spot. This was weird; she was always at the table before Peter. He casually glanced around as he sat down beside Ned.
“Hey… do you know where Michelle is?” He asked, as normal as his half-functioning brain would allow him.
Ned shrugged as he chewed his sandwich. “Dunno. Why?”
“Just wondering,” he replied quickly, shrugging, looking down at his lunch tray. As he stared down at the godawful cafeteria food, he felt the urge to tell someone his feelings.
“I think I like her,” he blurted out. He looked up to see Ned’s reaction, which would have been comical if Peter wasn’t so nervous. His mouth hung open, and he stared at Peter with wide eyes, as if the words that just came out of his friend’s mouth were impossible.
“You like MJ?!” Ned whisper-shouted in shock. Peter quickly shushed him, looking around to make sure no one had heard. He turned back to face Ned, moving closer.
“Yes, Ned," he paused, and sighed before continuing. "I like MJ,” he admitted, the blush returning back to his face.
“But… why?” Ned exclaimed.”Like I mean I guess she’s okay-looking, but, like, she’s kind of mean and scary, and she someti-mmph!” Peter flung a hand in front of his friend’s mouth to cease him from talking, because MJ had entered the cafeteria and was swiftly heading towards their table.
Ned got the hint and shut up, so Peter slowly took his hand away from his face. As MJ approached, the strangest thing happened; she sat down directly in front of Peter. This never happened. Although she had become better friends with Ned and Peter over the past few months, she still refused to sit with them. Until now?
“‘Sup, dorks,” she said, with a deadpan tone as she dropped her bag on the ground with a loud thud, settling into her chair.
“Hey, MJ!” Both Ned and Peter managed to blurt out at the same time. They looked at each other, then back at Michelle.
She eyed both of them suspiciously, confused by their simultaneous and overly-cheerful greetings. “Okaay, what’s going on?”
“Why are you sitting here?” Ned blurted out, ignoring her question and replying with his own.
She rolled her eyes, sighing, seeming to forget her concern. “God, is this a crime? Am I not allowed to sit here? What is this, “Mean Girls?”” She quipped, an annoyed look on her face, as if she was about to get up and leave.
“No no no,” Peter frantically responded, willing her to stay. “You can sit where you want,” he added, reassuringly.
“I know that,” MJ replied coolly, settling back down and taking a sip of her tea. She was silent for a moment before adding. “I forgot my book today, that’s all,” she shrugged. “Decided I might actually get some entertainment from a conversation with you nerds,”
“Don’t you hear our conversation every day?” Ned asked, confused.
“Observing a conversation and actually taking part in one are two completely different things, Leeds,” she answered.
Ned rolled his eyes and took another bite of his sandwich, muttering something between “don’t call me that,” and “whatever.”
Seeming satisfied with her end of the conversation, MJ took another sip of tea, before turning her blank gaze to Peter. “Are you coming to decathlon practice today?” She asked.
This wasn’t just a random question; with his secret spider-business, Peter often flaked off practices, giving lame excuses such as “May needs help with something,”or “I have to go… Stark internship,” to which MJ always replied with a slightly disappointed “whatever,” and an eye roll.
Of course, MJ didn’t know that Peter was Spider-man. The only people who knew other than The Avengers were Ned and Aunt May, who both found out completely by accident. He couldn’t let anyone else find out. Especially not her.
He suddenly became aware that MJ was giving him a concerned look, as he hadn’t responded to her question yet.
“Oh, uh, yeah I’ll be there,” he quickly stammered, an embarrassed blush forming on his face. 'Dammit', he thought, willing his cheeks to return to a normal colour.
She gave a curt nod. “Good,” she responded, either not noticing or not caring about Peter’s now bright-red face. “We’ll need you even more now that the finals will be coming up soon… so don’t flake,” she muttered, and Peter was pretty sure that he had just received a compliment from Michelle Jones.
She seemed to realise that, coughing and standing up. “See you later, nerds,” she said quickly, before grabbing her backpack, turning on her heel and swiftly exiting the cafeteria.
Peter and Ned sat in silence for a few moments, before Ned spoke up.
“What just happened?” He asked.
“I have no idea,” Peter replied breathlessly, his face still flushed. Ned smirked.
“Dude, you really like her,”
“Shut up, Ned.”
-------------------------------------------
“Well, I guess you all know it’s getting closer to the finals, and Midtown is going to take home the trophy again,” MJ was declaring, standing behind the small wooden podium at academic decathlon practice. It was after school and Peter had kept his promise, showing up right on time, which was rewarded by a small smile of approval from MJ. A genuine, not-mocking smile. From Michelle Jones. The girl who called him a loser every day and refused to wear anything other than black or grey and flipped him off when he jokingly called her sweet that one time (bad idea).
“Anyway, I’m sure you’re all waiting to hear where we will be going this year, and Mr. Harrington has given me the honour of telling you.” She continued, glancing over at the teacher standing near the door. He gave her a slightly-nervous nod, and she turned back to face her teammates. She opened her mouth to continue, but before she could, Flash’s loud voice interrupted from the back of the classroom.
“Wait, drumroll please!” He shouted, and proceeded to drum his fingers on the desk in front of him. When he got no response, he looked up, dumbfounded, laughing awkwardly. “What, nothing?”
Peter rolled his eyes, turning his gaze back to MJ who sighed, as if she was doing a mental face-palm.
“We’re going to Paris,” she announced, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation.
The room suddenly erupted with whoops and cheers, most of the students clapping in celebration. Ned gave Peter a side bro-hug.
“We’re going to Paris, France, baby!” He exclaimed loudly with a fist-punch to the air.
Peter laughed, clapping along with the others. He glanced over at MJ, who actually had a slight smile on her face, like she was too happy to contain it. When her gaze landed on Peter, he gave a stupid grin in response, and she looked away, almost embarrassed.
“Alright,” MJ shouted over the noise, and Ned gave a loud whistle to quiet everyone down. She gave him a slight nod of appreciation in response before continuing. “Now, that doesn’t mean we can go sightseeing and eating french food all day. We’re there for a competition, which means we have to leave plenty of room for practising our stuff. Got it?”
The room grew louder again with murmurs of agreement. MJ gave a satisfied nod. “Good. Now, if we really want to win this thing, we have to practice longer and harder than ever. I’m scheduling two extra practices on weeknights now, and each will be a half-hour longer than usual.”
There were no complaints, so she continued her somewhat-motivational speech. Suddenly, a quiet buzz came from Peter’s pocket. He reached in, grabbing his phone, and saw a notification; it was a text from Tony Stark.
/Tony (Iron Man) :D : Hey kid, call me. We need to talk./
Peter cursed at his boss’s inconvenient timing. At the one practice he tells MJ he won’t miss, of course Tony urgently needs to speak with him.
/At decath practice. Will call you when it’s over. Sorry!/
Peter read over the text quickly and hit send, turning his notifications off, when a voice suddenly made him jump. “Peter,” MJ called out, her voice slightly annoyed. As he looked up, he saw her arms were crossed in front of her chest, and she was staring him down, an intense look on her face, one eyebrow cocked. “If I’m boring you, let’s get this practice going, then; when was the Eiffel Tower built, and what is it made of?” She drilled, her focused gaze never leaving Peter’s.
Peter sighed. Of course she’d choose a Paris-themed question. Thankfully, Aunt May had recently become obsessed with France architecture and culture, meaning she had often sat down with him on the couch, shoving parisian history books in his face until the information had been pretty much burned into his brain.
“Uh, construction started on January 28th, 1887. It’s made of latticed wrought iron,” he answered certainly, smiling. MJ’s eyes narrowed.
“What purpose was it built for?” She pressed.
“1889 World’s Fair,”
“Why is it made of latticed wrought iron?”
“It’s incredibly strong, but also very light.”
MJ blew a strand of hair away from her face, her level gaze still locked with Peter’s.
She stayed silent.
“Is this interrogation over?” He asked, jokingly.
“I guess,” she replied, unsatisfied. “Just stay focused, loser.” She looked down at her notes, giving a sigh. “Alright, any questions?”
Peter turned as he watched Flash’s hand shoot up in the air. “Yep?” MJ prompted, turning to face him, flipping the hair out of her face to give him an expecting glance.
“Are you and Peter gonna be flirting in Paris too? Or is that strictly for practice?” He asked with a smirk, his question receiving a few small laughs from the rest of his teammates. Peter blushed for the third time that day, but he managed to look up and see MJ’s reaction. She had tilted her head up, giving Flash a blank stare. She gave him a sickeningly sweet smile as she lifted a hand and proceeded to flip him off.
The students gave a collected, “oooooh,” laughing at Flash’s shocked face. Peter blushed harder, smiling as he stared down at his shoes; MJ hadn’t answered Flash’s question, meaning she hadn’t denied that they were flirting.
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“Alright, guys, even though the Finals aren’t for another few weeks, we’ll need plenty of time to prepare. Try to make every practice, or I’ll kick your knees in,” MJ had finished the practice exactly two hours later, wrapping it up about as motivational as she could get. As everyone began standing up to leave, Mr. Harrington quickly walked up to the podium as well.
“Um, yes, very helpful, Michelle,” he responded, and MJ replied with a small nod as she reached down to grab her bag. “Please bring your trip forms in asap. If you don’t; you’re not coming,” he continued. “And I won’t be having any stowaways. Not again.” He finished darkly, staring off somewhere in the distance, before stepping off the podium and wandering away.
Peter gave a confused glance, but said nothing. Their teacher was weird; everyone knew that. It wasn’t really something anyone questioned anymore.
“See ya tomorrow, Pete,” Ned said as he passed by. Peter smiled and gave a nod of farewell, but not before they did their bro-handshake.
As Peter reached down to zip up his bag and sling it over his shoulder, he sensed footsteps approaching. He turned to see MJ coming towards him, her hands gripping the straps of her bag where they hung off her shoulders and dug under her arms.
“You’re coming to Finals, right?” She asked, her gaze once again resting intensely on his.
“Yeah, no, of course,” Peter responded, meeting her gaze. “Wouldn’t miss it for anything,” he added.
“Okay, dork,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I just don’t want you bailing like you did in D.C. that last time. We really could’ve used you,”
Peter blinked. “But you gave the final answer and won,” he replied.
She snorted. “Thanks, but I didn’t win on my own,” she said, her dark brown eyes moving up again to look at Peter. She brushed the strand of hair away from her face. “So, just, promise me you’ll make it?” She said it casually, like she was trying to quickly wrap up the conversation. But Peter could see the genuine hope in her eyes, and, was that… worry?
When stunned Peter didn’t answer right away, she scoffed again. “Look, Parker, it’s just, I have a lot of stuff going on right now, and the one good thing that I have is being the head of this team. I need to make sure that it’s going to be good. Got it?” She glanced up at him and her eyes scanned his in a way they never had before; she looked almost desperate. She turned her gaze back to the ground, and scoffed, shaking her head. “God, I don’t know why I told you all that. That was stupid”
“No,” Peter blurted out, slightly at a volume he knew was too loud because MJ kind of flinched.
“I, uh, I understand,” he continued at a lower volume, internally cringing at his outburst. But he was telling the truth; often when things got overwhelming with schoolwork, or helping May not be overwhelmed, or dealing with his, um, newfound crush on MJ, he felt the only thing he could truly control was going out and being your friendly, neighbourhood Spider-man. “And, MJ, I promise. I’ll be there.” He gave a small, reassuring, smile. Her gaze softened, but she rolled her eyes.
“God, okay, you don’t need to gush,” Mj snorted. She coughed, clearing her throat. “But thanks.”
“Yeah, no problem,” he replied quietly.
MJ gave him a small smile before glancing down at her phone. “Shit,” she whispered, shoving it in her back pocket. “I gotta go,” she swiftly turned around, taking quick strides away from Peter towards the door.
“See you tomorrow, loser,” she called over her shoulder as she left the classroom
“Bye,” Peter replied.
But she was already gone.