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MJ was about ready to give whoever had the audacity to disturb her nap a black eye. Unfortunately, grunting and ignoring them wasn’t working. Upon having her arm prodded, MJ bolted upright with a glare, a “What?” working its way from the back of her throat. The boy that had been looming over her shoulder not seconds ago took a few steps back, hands raised in surrender at the irritation clearly etched on her face. Meeting his gaze, she softened. He was familiar, but she couldn’t seem to place him. Calmer, she repeated her statement, crossing her legs in her (at this point, very uncomfortable) chair.
Clearing his throat, he responded, “It’s 11. The library’s closing.”
Oh. Suddenly MJ felt guilty for snapping at him. She quickly stood to gather her things, pausing when he made no move to leave.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Peter. Parker. Peter Parker. That’s my name.” He took a small step forward, picking one of her books up. “We have Lit together. Michelle, right?”
MJ took the novel from his now outstretched hand, giving him a slow once over before narrowing her eyes. Deciding that he was trustworthy, she nodded. “Yeah, but you can call me MJ.”
“Well, MJ, if you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing at the library this late on a Friday night?”
MJ just rolled her eyes as she slung her bag over her shoulder. She started for the exit, but Peter jogged after her, a small smile pulling at his lips.
She slowed down for him, but if asked, she’d never admit it.
“If you must know, Liz, my roommate, sexiled me. Without giving me any sort of warning, unless you count a scrunchie on our doorknob as a warning. Apparently, her boyfriend decided to drop by.”
“Yikes. That’s not very considerate of her.”
“No shit,” MJ deadpanned.
By now, they’d made it out of the double doors and were halfway across the quad.
“So, are you planning on following me for the rest of the night, or...?”
“What? No!” Peter fumbled over his words. “I just–” He took a deep breath. “I just thought I’d walk you to wherever you’re going. You know, because it’s late and you’re by yourself and–”
MJ cut him off with a laugh. He was a total dork. She would’ve let him ramble on, but putting the poor guy out of his misery seemed like the right thing to do. Plus she found it kind of annoying (not really, she totally thought it was endearing).
Collecting himself, he started again.
“So, what’s your major?”
“Really? That’s what we’re gonna do? Small talk?” MJ raised an eyebrow.
“Hey,” he said, putting his hands up. “We have the time, why not?” he continued, shoving his hands back into his pockets.
“Art. You?”
“Mechanical engineering.”
MJ snorted. Figures. He had the conversational skills of a nerd.
“Why art?”
“Sketching was basically the only thing that got me through school. I can’t imagine doing anything else with my life.” Peter nodded in understanding, and MJ echoed, “And you? Why mechanical engineering? Isn’t that basically suicide for your GPA?”
“I’ve never seen it like that I guess,” he replied with a shrug. “In high school, I ended up landing a longterm internship with Tony Stark, and I just fell in love with it over time.”
MJ let out a low whistle. She had to admit, that was pretty impressive. Peter simply smirked at her speechlessness.
The two continued on in silence for a few more minutes, until he turned to her.
“Where are we going anyway? I’m assuming we’re not going back to your room. Voyeurism doesn’t really seem like your thing.”
Peter was gaining confidence, and she was thankful for the darkness as it veiled her heated cheeks. Wanting to knock him down a peg, she quipped back, “Bold of you to assume what I’m into.”
This time, she smirked at his silence.
As they walked, she took him in. He was an inch or two taller than her (which was honestly impressive), and pale in that way most engineering majors were. However, he was surprisingly muscular. She couldn’t help but admire the way his shirt stretched over his chest and shoulders, and she suddenly got the urge to sketch him, to commit every cord of muscle to paper. His face, though, was what drew her in most. He had dark curls that weren’t quite unruly like hers, yet they still slumped over his forehead as if he’d spent the last couple hours running his fingers through them. An almost exact match in color, they complimented his eyes well, which exuded kindness and an overall harmless puppy vibe.
“You know, you didn’t answer my question.”
MJ just pointed to a dorm building that stood about 200 feet in front of them.
“Do you have a friend you’re gonna stay with or something?” he questioned, eyebrows creasing together.
“Not exactly... I was just planning on crashing in our lounge,” MJ muttered with a sheepish expression, toying with the strings of her hoodie. “Liz’ll probably text me soon anyway with an all clear.”
“Why don’t you just hang out with me instead then? I would feel better knowing I didn’t leave you alone here. N-Not that you can’t take care of yourself or anything, because I totally don’t doubt that you can. But I’m pretty sure if I did, my Aunt May would somehow find out and kill me.”
A beat of silence passed.
“What about your roommate?” she questioned.
“Well, Ned, my best friend, was going to room with me, but he got off of the waitlist for Stanford pretty last minute, so I didn’t really have time to figure out a new roommate. So I’m in a single. It’s just me.”
MJ wasn’t really sure if that made his offer sound better or worse, but she did know that a bed would definitely be more comfortable than the ratty old couch in her dorm lounge. Who knows what had happened on that couch? After contemplating her options for a few minutes, she shrugged, replying with an unsure “I guess that’d be okay.”
Thankfully, the walk to Peter’s dorm was a short one. After a long day of classes and a never-ending studio session, MJ wanted nothing more than to flop into a bed (Peter’s, apparently) and relax. Unfortunately, while his dorm was close by, he lived on the fifth floor. And there was no elevator. By now, it was nearly midnight, and as she dragged her feet up each step, the strap of her bag sagged off of her shoulder more and more.
“Please tell me we’re almost there,” MJ groaned, not keeping track of how many flights of stairs they’d climbed. So she wasn’t exactly the most active person on the planet, sue her.
Peter chuckled and led them off at the next landing. His room was at the end of his hall, and MJ slumped against the nearest wall as he unlocked the door.
MJ had always prided herself on being an observant person (more so than average, at least), so walking into his room, she took everything in. She found that you could tell a lot about a person by their room. The first thing that she noticed was that it felt comfortable. It wasn’t as messy as she thought it would be considering he was an 18 year old boy, but he wasn’t a neat freak by any means either. His desk was scattered with papers and pencils, a sleek desktop sitting in the center and a hoodie thrown over the back of his chair. His shelves were filled with books, both for school and leisure. Surprisingly, among the science fiction, MJ spotted some classics and modern lit. Small figurines were littered about, as well as what appeared to be a lego death star. His walls were covered in movie posters, most notable were various star wars posters, and pictures of who she assumed were his friends. MJ stood before his nightstand, staring at the picture she found sitting there. It was of a slightly younger Peter laughing with an older woman. She appeared to be in her early forties, and she had long dark hair that flowed down her back. Her eyes were squeezed shut behind thick rimmed glasses, her open mouth lifted in a smile. She was beautiful. By the time MJ had realized that Peter was still there and that she’d been staring at the photograph long enough for it to have been creepy, it was too late. Just as she opened her mouth to apologize for being weird, Peter cut her off.
“That’s my aunt May. The one I mentioned earlier.”
Oh.
“Are you two close?” MJ inquired, vaguely motioning towards the photo.
“Uh... Yeah. We are. She’s pretty much the only family I have left, so...” He trailed off.
Oh.
Not wanting to pry, MJ thought of how she could quickly change the topic without making things awkward, but Peter continued, the inquisitive expression on her face having given her curiosity away.
“My parents died when I was really young. I didn’t have any other family to go to, so May and my uncle Ben ended up taking me in.”
Peter’s mouth curved into a small smile at MJ’s conflicted expression.
“You don’t have to tell me any of this, you know,” she breathed out.
Peter nodded. “I know. But I want to.”
Unsure of what to do, MJ sat on the edge of his bed. No one had ever confided in her like this.
“I don’t really remember them much. I got used to living with May and Ben, and I was really happy with them. One day when I was fourteen, I got a call from May. He was dead. He’d been murdered by some burglar. So since then, it’s just been May and I.”
MJ said the one thing that came to her mind, despite knowing how lame it was: “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he replied, joining her on the bed. “I’m really happy I have May. She’s the best.”
She could tell how much May meant to Peter. A sudden wave of affection for him, for this random dork that she’d basically met today, hit her. He didn’t deserve all the shit he’d had to endure at such a young age. She wouldn’t wish something like this on her worst enemy.
“When I was seven, my dad left me and my mom.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, but she continued anyway. “I haven’t heard from him since. He was a total asshat. To both of us. He and my mom would fight all the time, and he’d hurt her. Sometimes he’d hurt me too. So I guess it was for the best. But without the extra money, my mom had to pick up extra shifts at the hospital so I never got to see her much either, which sucked.”
“I’m sorry.”
This time, MJ was the one whispering “Don’t be” with a small smile.
At half-past midnight, MJ’s phone buzzed.
“This better be Liz.”
And it was. Except she’d texted not to tell MJ she could come back to her room, but to warn her not to return until morning. MJ let out a groan of frustration, turning away from her phone as she drew her legs to her body.
“What did she say?” he asked, shifting to face her.
“That I basically shouldn’t go back to our room any time soon unless I want an eyeful of her boyfriend’s bare ass.”
“Looks like you’re stuck with me then,” he commented, barely suppressing a laugh at her misfortune.
Rolling her eyes, MJ gave his shoulder a teasing shove, but quickly huffed in annoyance when he didn’t budge. Not even a little bit. He could’ve at least pretended for her sake. Then again, she appreciated that he hadn’t.
“Newton’s third law doesn’t apply to me,” he sang, cracking a proud smile.
“Yeah?” MJ sneered. “You sure about that?”
Mouth halfway open and ready with a witty response, he promptly took a pillow to the face.
He paused, eyes wide in shock as MJ smirked at him. Before she could whack him again, he countered with the pillow nearest to him, eyes glinting with amusement. She let out a squeak as he caught her on the chin in her attempt at dodging his blow, losing her balance and falling onto her back in the process. Pillow still in hand, he leaned forward to pull her up with his other. However, in true MJ fashion, instead of letting him help her up, she yanked him down, knocking the pillow out of his grasp. MJ grinned triumphantly, right up until he lost his balance and fell over her, quickly bracing his hands on either side of her head.
They stayed like that–noses inches apart, chests rising and falling together, eyes unblinking–until Peter scrambled off of her, fumbling for words.
“Um, sorry, um... A-are you okay? I didn’t mean to-I didn’t squish you or anything, did I?” he stuttered out, redness creeping up his neck like a vine.
Sitting up, MJ gave him a small smile. He was adorable when he was flustered.
“Nah, you’re good. It was my fault, don’t worry about it.”
Nodding, Peter cleared his throat and returned the smile.
“Since you’re here for the night, do you wanna change? And maybe watch something?”
Despite the fact that she was exhausted, MJ didn’t yet want to face figuring out their sleeping situation. It was going to be an awkward conversation, and she was in no mood to deal with awkward right now. So she just agreed.
While Peter rummaged through his closet, MJ zoned out as she watched his muscles shift under his shirt, realizing too late that he was trying to get her attention.
“Are these okay?” he asked, holding up a T-shirt and sweats.
He tossed the clothes to her when she nodded, pointing her towards the bathroom.
The shirt, which (unfortunately) upon closer inspection was emblazoned with a giant yellow taxi cab and ‘I survived my trip to NYC’, hung off her narrow frame, hitting the tops of her thighs. As expected, his sweats were also a little large, so she tightened the drawstring as much as she could and rolled the waistband down so it wouldn’t slip.
Walking back into the room, MJ was greeted with the sight of Peter, changed into an equally ridiculous shirt, already settled into the left side of the bed (thank god, she did not want to be pressed against the wall), laptop perched on his thighs.
She padded over and slid in after him, his comforter cool against her skin where the shirt had ridden up.
“Nice shirt,” he commented, eyes raking over her, his mouth turned up in a goofy smile.
“I’d hope so. It is yours,” she played along. “But why do you even have it? You live here.”
“It’s a long story,” he replied, the expression on his face unreadable.
He seemed almost... sensitive? about the subject, so she dropped it, going for his laptop. He had Netflix open, so she scrolled until she found a show that looked interesting enough and clicked play. Settling in, MJ placed the laptop between them so it was balanced on both of their thighs.
Halfway through their second episode of Parks and Rec, MJ officially gave up on trying to watch. She could feel the warmth radiating from Peter’s side, which was nearly pressed against hers, and his hand was right there, resting on his thigh. So close that she could reach out with her pinky and loop it with his. Would his skin be calloused from working with his hands?
MJ shifted in an attempt at distracting herself from her unwanted thoughts of Peter, but all she ended up doing was bumping his shoulder in the process. His shoulder that she had the overwhelming urge to lay her head on and fall asleep.
Noticing her fidgeting, Peter paused the show and turned to her.
“Are you uncomfortable?”
“Yeah,” she lied. “My neck’s just getting a bit sore.”
Peter stayed silent for a second, as if contemplating something. Then, without warning, he slipped his arm over her shoulders, fitting his bicep behind the slope of her neck, supporting it. Oh he was slick . To make matters worse, he had a small smug expression plastered over his face, head tilted back and gazing at her out of the corners of his eyes in that way that boys did. You know, when they’re satisfied. Or when they see through you. Oh god. He totally knew she was into him.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, reaching over to hit the spacebar.
By the beginning of the third episode, MJ’s eyelids started to droop. The light brush of his fingertips against her shoulder coupled with his woodsy scent was slowly lulling her to sleep. Closing her eyes, she finally let her temple gently fall to his shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t be bothered, but also not really caring if he was. She needed sleep, goddamnit.
If he minded, he didn’t seem to show it.
When MJ woke, it was early, probably around 7 she guessed. She and Peter had slid down the bed in their sleep, heads now resting more comfortably on their pillows. Well, his was. He still had his left arm around her and under her neck. How had it not gone numb?
His laptop, she noticed, was no longer in their laps, or even on the bed at all for that matter. For a moment she worried that it had fallen during the night, but there it was, sitting on the nightstand near her head. He must’ve moved it somehow after she’d passed out. How he had managed to do so without waking her was beyond her. He’d also pulled their blanket up to cover her, and she felt a small piece of her melt at the thought.
She could hear the steady pounding of his heartbeat from where her head was pressed against his chest, and his warmth was threatening to send her back to sleep.
Before she could, she gingerly untangled her legs from his and slid out of his grasp. Once she was up, she moved the blanket back over him and crept over to her bag. He looked so peaceful, eyelashes brushing against his cheekbones. She wanted to brush his curls away from his face, but she couldn't. MJ felt cold without his presence, but she still had a roommate to go annoy and scold after all.
When Peter woke, the sun was already high in the sky, casting a warm glow about his room. Much to his disappointment, he was alone. He wondered what the previous night had meant to her, if anything at all. Why had she left?
Sitting up, he found a small piece of paper on his nightstand.
On it was what he presumed to be her phone number, and a quickly scrawled out See you in Lit.
He simply picked up his phone and smiled.