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Michelle Jones is known for many things. Her sarcasm and overall don’t-give-a-fuck attitude are probably the most popular. The ability to read books in a day or less might be next on the list. She’s also incredibly intelligent and observant enough she was mostly convinced the boy rushing around his hotel room is a superhero and hey, she isn’t wrong. However, she’s never been considered the best at respecting privacy.
She kinda just does what she wants, follows who she wants, sneaks around to get answers to questions that burn in her brain until she can’t think straight. She followed Peter, for example. So yeah, it’s probably not her finest trait but she can’t help it. At least she didn’t try to kill Brad.
Not that she has the full story, there’s definitely more to that and maybe when they have more time she’ll ask. Maybe she’ll ask all the questions bouncing around in her thoughts. Maybe she’ll be braver than she is now, standing awkwardly still in his room as he moves around in all directions. MJ wants to ignore the way her stomach flutters, she wants to tell herself she can’t be doing this.
Getting close to people was never part of her plan. Liking a boy was never the plan. Fuck, she doesn’t even know what the plan is but he’s talking and she’s answering and it feels...nice. It’s something she’s wanted for awhile. To just talk to him more, ask things, let him see that she’s not as weird as people say. Okay, so she is that weird but he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s a weirdo too.
She really tries to give him some privacy. When he pulls the shirt over his head without thinking and then stumbles to a stop and all she can see is his chest, abs...skin. Her face feels warm, her stomach tightens and she feels things. A lot of things. She’s not sure she can ever say she’s craved someone, till this moment but he’s staring and she’s staring and her hormones are a bit through the roof.
She really tries to turn away, but he’s going to strip in the same room she’s standing in and the heat settling in her stomach shifts lower. It’s new. It’s a foreign thing, to feel like you’re out of your body but feeling everything tenfold. Her skin is too hot, her thighs aching as she tries to stand completely still. She can do this. Just a boy. An almost naked boy.
An almost naked boy who she really freaking likes. Damn it. She can’t do it. She’s going to regret this and it’s going to ruin possibly everything but she can’t. In the beat of silence between the zipper of his pants sliding down and the rustle of fabric, MJ turns back around and closes the distance between them with two shaky steps.
“Fuck it.”
“MJ! What are-” And then her lips are against his, slightly off center, a little awkward but hey, she’s never really done this before. He’s her first kiss.
The thought has her jerking away before he can respond or push her away himself. She didn’t think this through. He’s wide eyed, impersonating a fish and she’s just about to apologize when he steps forward. Maybe she’s romanticizing but his arm wraps around her waist and it makes her stomach flop like a fish out of water. She has no idea why she’s stuck on fish right now either.
And then his lips are on hers and he’s the one initiating and every thought leaves her head. She’s just MJ, he’s just Peter. The boy with the soft eyes and cute smile and stupid swooshy hair that makes her nauseated in the best way. He cups her cheek, stumbling a beat of the kiss and it shouldn’t make her heart sing to know he’s just as new and awkward at this but it does.
They figure it out after a few seconds, when to move their lips, when to pull each other closer and how to touch in ways that make the entire experience even better. The arm banded around her is bare, his chest is bare and the second her fingertips rest against his neck and shoulder, MJ feels like she’s about to combust. Is that a thing? Can people die from kissing?
Then his mouth opens a little and she feels the heat of his sigh, the tip of his tongue swiping over her bottom lip and she lets him in. She’ll google it later but it certainly feels like she could erupt into a ball of fire. Maybe they’re a little sloppy, maybe her hands aren’t in the right places, maybe he’s holding her wrong, maybe they both exhale sorrys into each other’s mouths a few times. She doesn’t know but it feels pretty damn good and the heat burning low in her belly is enough to tell her this new found exploration is really working for her.
She flinches when her back presses against something solid. The wall. She hadn’t realized they were moving and her lungs burn for air. He mumbles her name against her lips, “MJ, we-”
“Yeah, yeah I know.” Every word has her mouth brushing his and she just wants to dive right back in but she knows this isn’t the best time. He has to go.
No matter how inviting the bed in the middle of the room looks or the thrill of being abroad with a boy she likes feels, there’s no way she’s about to strip in front of him or suggest they have sex. He’s too shy and she is too. They’re not quite there yet but her body really really wants her to be.
He’s glued to her front and she can feel everything. His abs, his breathing, the way his muscles flex and jump beneath her hands. He really wants to keep going too. She’s never been a victim of teenage hormones more than she is right now in this moment. It’s his fault. It’s all his stupid fault. He shouldn’t have just stripped his shirt off like that and she wouldn’t have kissed his stupid cute face.
“MJ, I really need to go.” She’s never been one for sappy parts in movies or books but he rubs his nose over hers and her knees go weak. For someone who fumbled his way through the second kiss just as nervously as she did, he’s feeling bold. “I’m sorry, I want to stay.”
“I didn’t mean to just...kiss you like that.” Except that’s exactly what she meant to do. She just didn’t think they’d end up making out and pressed to a wall.
The way his face falls tells her it was the wrong thing to say and she wants to kick herself. This is why she’s not good at personal relationships.
“Oh. Okay.” He’s too much of a gentleman for being a sixteen year old and she likes it anyway. When he tries to step back, she tries to hold on and maybe her hips press a little further into his. His fingers grip her hip suddenly and he exhales something that could definitely be a whine.
“I didn’t mean like that. I just meant I’m not really good at this. I’ve never kissed anyone.” She lets go of him, sliding her hands from his shoulders, down his chest. “I don’t really get close to people.”
“MJ, I really want to stay and have this conversation and kiss you again but-”
“The world needs saving and all that.” She gives him a smile and tries to stop glancing at his lips but they’re red, a little puffy, and she wonders what she’ll see when she looks in the mirror. “I get it.”
He steps back and she stops ogling him, this time when she turns around to let him undress, she waits. Her heart is still pounding. She might steal a couple glances over her shoulder but again, she’s never been great at the privacy thing. He’s dressed in what feels like seconds, telling her it’s all clear and she wants to joke but the words get stuck. That seems to happen a lot with him around.
She isn’t entirely prepared to see him in all black and she’s not at all ready for the way he smiles at her before sliding the mask on.
“You really do look very pretty, MJ.”
Ned shows up, interrupting the moment before she can reply but there’s time. Hopefully. It’s really going to suck if she came all this way, kissed the boy she’s liked for longer than she’s willing to admit, and somehow they die before getting to do it again.
“Don’t die.” It’s said with the shrug of a shoulder and tilt of her lips but he better freaking take that seriously.