Chapter Text
Glancing at the clock, Mary Jane Watson swirls the mascara wand in the tube before painting her lashes darker. The bus is coming in twenty minutes, and as always, she is perfectly on time. She zips her makeup bag shut and bounds downstairs for a filling fat-free breakfast. Then at exactly six minutes before the bus will arrive at the stop, she shoulders her backpack, reapplies her lip gloss and flips her hair, and heads out the door.
She sits at her usual spot at the front of the bus, and pulls her biology homework out of her bag. People wave at her as they file past her, and she gives a closed mouth smile in return: friendly but not too friendly. She plans to spend the ride going over each question for the third time, making sure she will maintain her perfect GPA.
…
Meanwhile, Peter B. Parker wakes up with a start, realizing he has shut off his alarm in his sleep. Again. He scrambles out of bed, pulling on the clothes he wore yesterday, barely having time to see if they pass the smell test. He grabs his worn backpack and exits his room. Downstairs, his Aunt May is just turning to leave for work.
“Peter! I thought you had already left!” she says, eyes wide with alarm. “You’re gonna miss the bus!”
“I know, I know, I know.” He grabs a bagel and stuffs it into his bag, then he grabs another and stuffs it into his mouth. He takes a bite, then pulls it from his mouth to give Aunt May a hurried kiss on the cheek. “Love you!” he says with his mouth full, and they both leave the house together. Just as Aunt May turns to lock the door, Peter remembers his biology homework… sitting on his desk in his room. He tears past a frazzled Aunt May, and races up the stairs. He pokes his head and one arm into his room and shoots a web out to snatch the papers.
“I got the door! You go!” He yells as he runs back down the stairs, trying to rip the webbing off his homework without tearing the pages. After locking the door, he runs down the sidewalk towards the bus stop, picking up speed and going slightly too fast for a normal high school boy. Hopefully no one notices.
He reaches the bus just as it’s about to pull away from the curb.
“Again, Peter?” the bus driver asks, exasperated, opening the doors again.
“Sorry about that, sir,” Peter says, pretending to be out of breath. He surveys the crowded bus, searching for a seat.
“Sit,” the bus driver says forcefully, “down.”
Peter slams his butt down in the first seat available.
…
Mary Jane looks up, disturbed, as a tall boy falls into the seat next to hers. She scoots towards the window, hoping he’ll take that as a sign to sit somewhere else. He does not. She ruffles her papers and clears her throat, returning to her careful scanning of her answers.
She successfully loses herself in biology for a while, but then the boy next to her is rifling noisily through his bag. Annoyed, she turns to stare him down and sees him pull a bagel out. Without a bag or even a napkin wrapped around it. Disgusting. She can’t even watch him eat it. But her concentration is broken, so she carefully places her homework in a folder and back in her bag.
When the bus arrives, she closely follows the boy off the bus, then cuts around him as soon as she can, flipping her shiny hair. Her group of friends begins clustering around her, coming together from different buses, and they pour through the school doors. Mary Jane makes a quick stop at her locker to drop off a few books, then heads to English class. Sitting in the front row, she takes perfect, color-coded notes that she knows the entire class will ask for later. But she only lets her friends copy them, secretly knowing that it makes the school compete for a position in her group.
At lunch, Mary Jane sits as a queen bee in the midst of her hive, activity and conversation buzzing around her. She takes out her carb-free salad and begins eating, rinsing the greens down with cool sips of water. She interjects frequently, commenting on stories, telling everyone “how it really happened,” and laughing at the appropriate times, but no one is engaging her personally. But she is the center of it all.
As she throws her head back slightly with a hearty laugh, her eye catches someone familiar coming into the cafeteria, picking him easily out of the crowd. The bagel boy from the bus. He’s clearly out of place. So much so that she’s surprised she has never noticed him before. But she can’t stop noticing him now. Her eyes follow him across the room as he picks a table against the wall, propping his feet up on the chairs across from him. He pulls a bag of potato chips from his backpack and settles in, hunching over something small in front of him. He tinkers with it, using what she guesses are tiny screwdrivers and tools, while simultaneously stuffing his face.
“Mary Jane!”
She lets herself be pulled back into the conversation again, glancing back only once before she leaves the cafeteria, but the boy is already gone.
…
After the instance on the bus, Peter keeps a low profile for the day, which isn’t hard to do because no one notices him anyway. He goes to his classes, hands in his homework, and spends lunch fixing a malfunctioning web shooter in the corner. His head is in the clouds, as usual, going over fighting tactics and city maps in his mind. When school lets out, he’s deciding which city sector to visit: the one with the recently broken-in bank or the one with the gang that likes to stir up trouble on weekends. He rounds the corner, walking fast, hands on his backpack straps, then stops short. Ahead, he sees the red headed girl from the bus leaning against the brick wall, cigarette in her hand. She lets out a long breath, the cloud of smoke spinning its way into the sky. He decides to turn away before she sees him; he didn’t get the friendliest vibe off her as she glared at him and cut him off that morning.
“Hey Mary,” a low voice calls. Peter backs around the corner, but stays to listen. He tells himself he’s just making sure she’s alright.
“It’s Mary Jane,” the girl corrects, her voice neither happy nor irritated. She just sounds flat.
“Yeah. You coming to the party tonight at Mike’s? It’s supposed to be sick. You know he’s loaded.”
“Of course I’m coming.”
“You wanna go with me?” His voice grows a little louder, letting Peter know he’s drawing closer to her.
“Um,” Mary Jane laughs a little, sounding strained in contrast to her bored tone. “You know what, Aaron? I usually just go by myself. No one to keep track of that way.” She laughs again.
“Come on. Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be going alone to that kind of thing.”
Peter tenses his fist, peeking around the corner.
“No, I’m good. Thanks though.” She pushes herself off the wall and turns to walk away. The boy grabs her arm to keep her from leaving.
Within an second, Peter’s there. “Back off, man,” he warns.
Aaron releases her, startled, but recovers quickly. “Mind your business!” he spits. Mary Jane stumbles back, wide eyes darting between both boys. They stand in a faceoff, Peter slowly circling until he’s in front of Mary Jane. He will fight if he has to. After a long tense moment, Aaron mutters “whatever,” and stalks off.
Peter turns around, surprised to see anger written in her face instead of gratitude.
“Were you following me?” she asks, narrowing her eyes.
“Uh, no! I just happened to be walking by—”
“And happened to hear the entire conversation and come swooping in at the right moment?”
“It wasn’t a very long conversation,” he points out.
She doesn’t say anything and flicks her cigarette to the ground.
“See you at Mike’s party?” He suddenly decides where to be tonight.
“Don’t count on it, Tiger,” she scoffs, walking around him and disappearing around the corner.
Did that mean she wasn’t going or…?
…
She would be lying if she said that encounter with Aaron didn’t rattle her, but if she didn’t go to the party, it would be letting him win. So Mary Jane takes her time changing clothes, curling the bottoms of her long hair, and redoing her make-up for a night out. By the time she’s ready to leave, she’s feeling calmer. She calls a goodbye to her mother, who has long since stopped trying to dissuade her lifestyle.
It wasn’t that she didn’t listen to her mother—she did, sometimes. This was simply her way to escape the shaky ground of her family’s home life. Her older sister Gayle had her ballet, and Mary Jane had her social life. Friends, parties, and smoking. Being adored as the center of attention: a position that she never held at home.
As she arrives at Mike’s huge house, already full of light and loud music, she catches up with a girlfriend or two, and they walk inside together. Mike stands at the door, already stupid drunk, greeting guests as they enter and laughing too loudly. Mary Jane feels the room pulse around her with life, bodies, and music. Already, someone shoves a beer bottle into her hand, and she sips it, careful not to set it down anywhere. She addresses her friends and acquaintances with smiles and quick conversations as she makes her way around the house, being sure to greet everyone and take note of who’s here. She winks suggestively at boys and feels their stare on her as she walks away.
Mary Jane has never had a boyfriend, and everyone knows it. But that doesn’t mean she hasn’t had her fair share of messing around. Everyone knows that too. The boys she kisses and flirts with know it’s usually a one-time thing, and she loves it that way. No strings attached, she’s free to do whatever she wants with whoever she wants. That’s the thing about a reputation. Once you establish it and maintain it, it does the work for you. Only occasional boys like Aaron will act like they deserve something from her.
Somewhere along the way, she picks up a cigarette and puffs on it as she makes her way outside to the poolside. Dozens of people are already in the water, drenching their clothes and slowly losing them. She joins the dancing, spinning and freeing herself. The strings of lights hung up over their heads sway in the breeze, making it seem as if they’re dancing too. As she whips around, now standing too closely to the pool’s edge, she catches the eye of a familiar figure. She groans, stilling, and then goes to confront him before he can sneak up on her again.
Stomping over, she shoves his arm, which feels more solid than she expected. “What are you doing here?”
Bagel Boy smiles innocently. “What do you mean? Enjoying a party, same as you.”
“You’re following me.”
“I swear I am not.” He holds his hands up. Someone hands him a drink, which he sniffs then sets down.
She narrows her eyes at him. “You never go to these things. Trust me, I would know.”
“What? You keep tabs on everyone in the school?”
“You really don’t know who I am, do you? This school,” she circles her finger, “revolves around me. And if you knew anything about me at all, you would know to never go after me. I don’t go for guys like you.”
He flinches back a moment, and she feels almost bad. But she has a reputation to maintain, and this is how she does it.
“Right. Okay, sorry about that.” He turns to leave. “But just so you know, I wasn’t ‘going after you,’ I was just making sure you’re okay.”
She stares after him, long after he’s melted back into the crowd. Has she ever met a guy who didn’t want something from her?
…
Peter walks away, winding through the huge house, dodging drunk people and dancing couples. He’s not sure what he was hoping to accomplish here. Mary Jane is right, of course. He never goes to these things. His idea of a night out is swinging around the city, saving people or just watching out for crime. He stuffs his fists into his pockets, walking quicker and avoiding eye contact.
“...Mary Jane will go out with me. Just wait and see. I know she’s here tonight, and before you know it, another bedroom door upstairs will be closed.”
Peter swings his head around and sees Aaron, walking with a bunch of his friends, bragging.
This is not your place. She doesn’t want your help.
But Peter finds himself changing course and following the small group through the crowd back to the poolside. He tails them silently, dodging clusters of people and staying out of their sight. He bursts outside just as Aaron slides up to Mary Jane, taking her drink out of her hand and bringing an arm around to slip around her waist. She turns stubbornly from him, leaving her drink with him. Same as Peter, she probably doesn’t trust him not to slip something in it. Aaron whispers something in her ear, and she looks at him with so much venom, Peter winces. She raises her hand to slap him, but Aaron grabs it and laughs loudly, trying to cover up her resistance.
Before Peter can stop himself, his feet have carried him right to them. Mary Jane doesn’t even notice him yet, still struggling with Aaron, trying to wrench her arm free. But Aaron is stronger than her and begins to drag her away. Either nobody else notices because they’re too drunk, or they don’t want to get involved.
She’s going to hate me.
Peter lays a heavy hand on Aarons shoulder, bringing their attention to him at last. “Get off of her.”
Aaron uses his other arm to bat him off. “Walk away. I swear, if you don’t leave now, you will regret it.”
Peter stands his ground, heart racing with anticipation of a good fight. Poor kid doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into.
“Let go of her,” Peter says calmly. Having selected his new target, Aaron frees her. Mary Jane gasps, massaging her arm while staring wide-eyed at Peter. He just nods at her and beckons for her to step back.
Aaron lunges for Peter, but he sidesteps him, drawing him away from Mary Jane and the rest of the crowd who has finally figured out what’s going on. Aaron lunges again, fists swinging. Peter dodges easily.
“Come on, let’s not get into it,” Peter says.
“You asked for it!” Aaron runs at him, but Peter darts nimbly away. “STOP RUNNING AWAY AND FIGHT ME.”
Peter takes a deep breath and smiles. Then he kicks out, sweeping Aaron’s legs out from under him. The other boy lands hard, gasping. Red-faced and swearing, he gets up, and they start to circle each other. The pounding music is still going, but no one’s dancing anymore. Aaron swings at him, and Peter blocks it, then punches him in the nose. Bright red blood drips down his face, and Aaron roars, getting angrier and angrier. They engage again, Peter striking him down over and over. Fighting a high school boy is a walk in the park for Peter, but he has to allow himself to be hit to avoid excess attention. A blow to the stomach knocks him down, and he lays on the pavement for a moment. What am I doing? I need to end this. He stands up and grabs the other boy’s shirt, raising him off his feet. Aaron struggles, kicking and punching, a few strikes meeting their target. Peter takes no notice, dragging him across the patio to the pool and dropping him in. A huge splash goes up, and the partygoers shriek in laughter and excitement. Aaron comes up, sputtering, but he knows he’s beaten.
Peter nods at him once and walks away. People come up to him, patting his back and asking him questions, but he waves them away. He goes to Mary Jane, standing shaken in the corner of the yard.
“Are you okay?” he asks, careful not to come too close.
“Why did you do that?” She folds her arms tightly, hugging herself. She doesn’t sound as angry as he thought she’d be.
“Not everyone stands by as a guy mistreats a girl.”
“Most do.”
They stare at each other for a moment, and Peter self consciously runs his hand through his hair.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again.
She nods. “And you…um?”
“Peter. Peter Parker. I’m great.”
“Thank you, Peter.” She speaks softly, a harsh contrast to her tone with him twenty minutes ago.
Nodding again, he leaves her alone. His heart is pounding, but not because of the fight he just won.
…