Chapter Text
As a general rule, MJ doesn't really like kids. They're grabby and they talk a lot and they haven't properly learned about the importance of personal hygiene, all things which are vaguely important to MJ, and not necessarily in that order.
MJ doesn't really like kids. But sometimes , sometimes even she can admit that there are exceptions to the rule. Exceptions like the gorgeous little boy playing with the Iron Man figure in the park.
It's not like MJ set out to get gross mushy feelings over some random kid at the park. She's not a creeper, she's just someone who likes to sketch out in the open air. But when the wind picks up and blows your paper away, and this cute little kid drops everything and runs after it for you… well. It's kind of hard not to pay attention then.
"Hey, miss?" says the kid. He's holding out the piece of paper that had blown away. "This is yours, right?"
MJ eyes him, but even she can admit that he looks too young to be some sort of con artist. She takes the drawing back.
"Thanks," she says, awkwardly. What the hell are you supposed to say to kids, anyway?
"That's okay! My dad says it's important to help other people."
His little toothy grin is really kind of cute. Should she say thank you again? Should she buy him an ice cream? It's not really acceptable for a stranger to buy a kid an ice cream, right?
"Um," MJ says. "Your shoelace is undone."
The kid seems entirely unfazed by this. "Oops! Hang on a sec." He kneels down to tie it, and MJ relaxes. Crisis averted.
Or so she thinks.
Instead, the kid hops up onto the bench next to her.
"So. What are you drawing?"
Who even is this kid? What kind of balls…
"The park," says MJ finally. "See that tree over there? When the lights shine through the branches at this time of day, it's kind of cool."
"Super cool," Cute Kid agrees, bobbing his head enthusiastically. "Hey, can I see?"
"Oh, uh, sure."
MJ hands it over, and the kid studies it carefully for a long time, legs swinging, fingers tapping on his knees. He can't seem to sit still, which is weirdly endearing. Dammit. She thinks she kind of likes him.
" Ultra cool," he declares after a moment.
MJ makes a split-second decision. "You know what? You can keep it. If you want."
"Really?"
"Really."
His eyes have grown so wide they're like twin little moons peeking out from behind his bed of curls. "Woah, thank you, Miss…"
"MJ."
"Miss MJ! I'll look after it, I promise."
She smiles at him. It's a tiny, tiny smile. But it's still there. "I know you will."
"Benji!"
Uh-oh. MJ and Cute Kid both know that tone means trouble . Sure enough, a guy rounds the corner with a worried expression. He's got the kid's (or Benji's , apparently) curly hair and big puppy-dog eyes, and if he was smiling, MJ's betting they'd have the same grin too, which… Oh, no. Cute Kid's got a Cute Dad.
"Dad!" Benji says brightly. "Look what Miss MJ gave me."
"You can't just go running off like that, kid, anything could—hey, that is kind of cool, actually," Cute Dad says, grabbing the sketch.
MJ can't help it. She snorts, just a little.
The guy's ears instantly pinken.
"Oh, uh, hey. Did you draw this? It's really good. And are you a serial killer? Because I'm trying to teach my son not to talk to strangers, so…"
"Telling you I'm not a serial killer is exactly the kind of thing a serial killer would say," MJ says, because apparently her mouth has no filter. "So I'll just say it's inconclusive."
The guy blinks. "Right."
Benji leans up on his toes. "Isn't she cool?" he whispers.
MJ is hit with another wave of affection for him, annoyingly.
"I am very cool," she agrees. "But also, I'm Michelle. Your son saved my sketch, so I guess now I'm kind of sworn under eternal oath to him, or whatever."
"Hi Michelle," says Benji's dad, who is still all blinky and kind of pink. Maybe his son stole all his charm genes. "I'm Peter, this is Benji."
"Nice to meet you," MJ says even though she doesn't fully mean it. It's just something people say when they feel kind of awkward. Like right now, for instance.
"Hey, uh, buddy, why don't you go ask Aunt May for ice cream? I'll hold onto your stuff for you."
Benji shrugs as Peter takes his backpack from him, but when he turns to MJ, his smile is big and goofy and ridiculously adorable.
"Stay cool, Miss MJ," he instructs, very seriously. Then he turns tail and runs off. A few steps away, MJ can see a pretty older woman take him by the hand and ruffle his hair with her other.
"Sorry about that," Peter says awkwardly. His hand runs through his hair. "You don't have to give him your art."
"Nah, it's cool," MJ says, surprising herself. "He's cute."
Peter seems surprised, but also immensely pleased by that statement.
"Yeah, well, I think so, but apparently I'm biased." MJ laughs a little, just to be polite, but it's awkward again. Peter rocks on his feet. "Okay, well, um, thanks for being so nice to my kid. It means a lot."
"He made it easy," she says. Gross. That was genuine , too. What's happening to her?
"Maybe I'll see you around, Michelle," Peter says.
She shrugs. "Maybe next time I'll be a big-shot artist, instead of just giving away my stuff for free."
Peter cracks a little grin. "Well, I'll take good care of this one, then. It could be worth a lot of money." He does a funny little half salute thing, MJ gives him a weird little aborted wave, and he jogs away.
It's a little weird, but it's over. At least now MJ has two pretty subject ideas for her next drawings.
Except it's not over.
MJ goes back to the park a couple of days later. Not because she wanted to see Benji and his cute dad again, but because the park is a great place for sketching. Or something like that.
But when she gets to her usual spot, there's somebody already sitting on the park bench. Actually, there are two someones. Two very familiar someones…
"MJ!" Benji says, eyes bright. He jumps off the bench, and Peter reaches out and catches the stuff flying out of his lap with surprising reflexes.
"Benji." MJ blinks several times to make sure she's not seeing things. "Hi. Are you stalking me?"
Benji scrunches up his nose. This time it's Peter who leaps off the bench like something's burned him.
"We're not stalking you," he says, real fast, Queens accent bleeding through. "Actually, we've been coming here for the last couple of days. Benji, you wanna show Michelle what you've been doing?"
"Right." Benji nods once, very seriously. Peter hands him a book, and Benji opens it up, very carefully, to pass it to MJ.
She runs her finger along the paper. It's a drawing, just like hers, of the light coming through the trees, except the lines are a bit wobbly and the colours bleed over each other occasionally.
"Benji," MJ says, feeling somewhere between deeply touched and deeply distressed. Does this kid's cuteness really know no bounds at all? How is anybody supposed to remain stoic when this happens? "Did you draw this?"
Benji swings shyly on his feet. "Do you like it?"
"I love it," MJ says, meaning it. "Do I get to keep it?
"I drew it for you."
Heart. Melting. MJ hates everything right now.
She fishes around in her pocket, draws out a pen, and kneels.
"Will you sign it for me?"
Benji writes B. PARKER down in shaky block letters on the corner. MJ glances up to check if that's okay with his dad, and she's momentarily taken aback by how soft his smile is. Sometimes MJ forgets the reactions you get from being a nice person. She blushes a little.
"Thanks, Miss MJ," Benji says. A little girl with springy curls starts to call his name at the playground, and MJ grins at him.
"Don't keep that girl waiting, kiddo," she tells him.
Benji looks startled. "Coming, Riley!" But just before he takes off, he looks up at her. "Will you stay so I can say goodbye?"
MJ shrugs. "Got nothing better to do."
Benji seems to accept that, because he grins, waves, and runs after the girl to the playground.
"Not a word of goodbye for me," Peter grumbles, and it takes her a minute to realise he's making a joke.
"I guess he likes me better," she says, and Peter beams, like he'd been afraid she wouldn't play along.
"Thanks," he says after a moment. He rubs the back of his neck. "Um, I mean, for what you did. He kind of idolises you."
"All I did was give him a drawing. He's cute, he deserved it."
"I know. But you really inspired him," says Peter. "After you gave him that drawing he tried to sell all his toys to buy colouring pencils and paper."
"A business entrepreneur," MJ says, pretending to be impressed. "Did it work?"
Peter laughs. "No. My aunt caught him doing it and we went shopping for him the next day."
Against MJ's better judgement, she smiles. "You're a good dad."
Peter goes all pink again, which might have been insanely annoying on anyone else. But it's kind of endearing on him.
"Thanks." They fall silent for a moment. MJ watches him carefully to see when he'll break. Peter kicks at the bench in his boyish sneakers and says, finally, "Um, is it cool if I hang around for a while?"
"You were here first," she reminds him. She's definitely not amused. Not even a little bit…
"Right! Dumb question. Sorry."
MJ ignores the urge to roll her eyes at him and instead takes a seat on the bench, fishing a pencil and her notebook from her backpack. Peter sits so far away from her on the bench that it's comical. MJ hides her smile in her notebook and scribbles something down.
"No drawing?" Peter blurts out before long.
"I'm kind of on the clock," MJ says. "Well. It's my lunch break. But sometimes it's easier to write outside, the old fashioned way, then staring at a computer screen until I go crazy."
"Write," Peter echoes. "So you're a…"
"Political journalist. Or trying to be."
"Wow." MJ glances over, but he seems genuinely impressed. "So you're kind of a superhero, huh?"
"Well, I'm no Spider-Man."
Peter chokes a little mid-laugh. "Um, nope, definitely not. But you know, Spider-Man's kind of overrated anyway."
She raises her eyebrows. "Not a fan?"
"I'm a fan! He's… cool. I guess. But I think Spider-Man gets more hype than he deserves. I mean, people act like he's sacrificing himself everyday out there, like he's this huge hero who never does anything wrong. But, you know, maybe Spider-Man is just a guy. I mean, if you had the kind of powers that Spider-Man does, wouldn't you do the same thing? Anyone would."
No , MJ thinks, studying Peter. Not anyone would. Not everyone would . Not everyone is, apparently, as selfless as Peter. Or Spider-Man. MJ's not sure she could even do it. If she had the chance.
"You're an interesting guy, Peter," she tells him. For some reason, it's like that's exactly what he wanted to hear. He smiles at her.
"Thanks, Michelle." A beat. "Can I ask you a question?"
"As long as you don't expect an answer," MJ says.
"Why are you Michelle to me, but MJ to my son?"
Oh. Well, that's a question she doesn't mind answering.
"My friends call me MJ."
Peter raises his eyebrows. His expression is kind of cheeky. "Oh, I see."
MJ snorts, and they're quiet for a while. She works in her notebook, and Peter watches Benji and some other kids run around and around the playground with endless amounts of energy, and after a little while, Peter's phone beeps.
"Crap," he says, which has got to be the cutest way anyone has ever sworn. "I've gotta go. Um, it was really nice meeting you, Michelle."
"Wait!" MJ says without thinking. Peter freezes, and she winces internally. "Um, I promised Benji I'd say goodbye."
Peter softens. "Benji!" he calls, and the kid comes scattering up. His shoelaces are untied again, and Peter ruffles his hair affectionately. "We're going, Ben. Wanna say goodbye to Michelle?"
Benji does better than just a goodbye. He leans forward and hugs MJ. Her child-hating heart thaws another couple of degrees, and she squeezes his shoulder.
"Thanks for the drawing, Benji."
"You're so cool," Benji whispers. Then, anxiously, "We're gonna see you again, right? You'll teach me how to draw?"
"Benji…" Peter says awkwardly.
"I'd love to," MJ says. Something insane about this kid is making her say yes, yes, anything, yes . It's annoying. But also kinda nice. She looks up at Peter, and they exchange a silent conversation. He sheepishly pulls his phone out, and she puts in her number.
"Saved under MJ," she tells him, and Peter's smile grows almost as wide as Benji's. "See you around."
"Bye, MJ!" Benji says, sliding his hand into Peter's and waving with the other.
"See you, MJ," Peter says, like he's testing the waters.
MJ rolls her eyes at them both and goes back to her notebook. Call it her stupid warm feelings, but she's suddenly feeling inspired.
HERO'S COMPLEX, OR GENUINE MOTIVATIONS?: THE MORAL COMPASS OF NEW YORK'S "SPIDER-MAN"
by Michelle Jones, for the Daily Bugle
"Kick-ass article, MJ," Liz says, for the thousandth time. Actually, it's getting a little obsessive. Liz has gone so far as to cut the article out and pin it on the fridge. Every time MJ wants milk she has to look at Spider-Man's web-slinging face.
"Well, my boss hated it," MJ says wryly.
"But the public love it!" Liz argues. "That's what matters. What inspired you, anyway? You never cared about Spider-Man before."
MJ snorts. "Yes, unlike someone else I know. Remember senior year, when you had that massive crush on him?"
"He has a cute voice," Liz defends. "Plus, he saves lives everyday. What's not to like?"
MJ rolls her eyes. "I haven't developed a crush on Spider-Man, Liz. Someone just said something about him that made me reevaluate."
"Who?"
"Who what?"
Liz gives her a knowing look. "You said someone said something to you, but you only willingly talk to like, three people. Who was it?"
MJ coughs a little. "Just this guy at the park."
"The park. You willingly talked to a stranger you met at the park?"
"And his son," MJ admits.
Liz's eyes widen. "Wow. Who are you and what have you done with my roommate, you monster?"
"Very funny, Liz."
Liz continues to stare calculatingly at MJ where she's trying to be nonchalant behind her laptop. It must not really be working, because Liz narrows her eyes.
"Is he cute? He must be cute, judging by your expression."
MJ scowls at her. "Did you not hear the part where he has a son?"
"Having a kid doesn't necessarily mean you're in a loving relationship," Liz says, and wow, don't they both know it. Shitty Parents Club, party of two, apparently.
Begrudgingly, MJ peers over her computer to stare down Liz.
"He has my number."
"Yes!" Liz beams. "I am so proud of you. Do you want me to put this achievement on the fridge too? Because I will."
MJ throws the TV remote at her, and the conversation is over. But MJ doesn't stop thinking about it.
She doesn't mean to, really. She's not obsessive or lonely and it doesn't take up her into life or anything. Just the tiniest little corner, occasionally. She'll glance at Benji's drawing and think about him and his dad. Or her phone will ding with an unknown number and she'll grab it a little too quickly.
But days pass, and there's no contact from Peter. Until she bumps into him at the most unlikely place possible.
"Jesus!" MJ says without meaning to. "What happened?"
Peter's eyes widen upon seeing her. He almost drops his bag, but then swoops and catches it with those amazing reflexes.
"Michelle! Um, I mean, MJ," he blurts out. "Hi! No, yeah, I'm really sorry I haven't been in touch, it's just been really busy and I—"
"Not that, idiot," MJ interrupts. "Your face. What happened to your face ?"
Peter's hand goes up gingerly to his jaw, where there's a motley of blue, purple and green splotches. He seems surprised, like he'd forgotten it was there.
"Oh, yeah. I… fell?"
"Is that a question?"
"No," Peter decides. "I fell. Down the stairs of my apartment."
MJ stares at him, and Peter seems to grow more and more nervous. Finally, she says, "Is Benji okay?"
He blinks. "What? Oh, no, yeah, he's fine. He wasn't with me when it happened. When, you know. I fell."
They stand there in the deli for a long time, while MJ tries to reconcile the fact that she happened to bump into Peter in this random corner of New York, and that he's got a bruise the shape of Australia on his face, for very shady reasons. Then, she makes a split second decision.
"Come on."
Peter jolts, but he's already following her out of Delmar's.
"What? Where are we going?"
"To get you some overpriced ice for your stupid face."
"Hey!" Peter says, indignant, which again, is frustratingly cute. She hates him. "I don't have a stupid face. And I don't need ice."
"Yes, you do. I've met you three times and I've deduced that you're a moron," she throws behind her shoulder. "As a concerned citizen, it's my duty to help morons. Especially when said moron has a kid relying on them."
"Michelle. Hey, MJ, come on." Peter tugs gently on her sleeve, and she finally stops, turns to face him. He's smiling at her. "I don't need ice, MJ."
"Your mouth is saying one thing, but your face is saying another. I don't really trust your mouth. No offence."
"Um, offence definitely taken," Peter says instantly, which makes her crack a little grin. "It''s worse than it looks, and I heal fast. I promise."
MJ hesitates. "I don't want Benji to see you like this."
Understanding dawns in Peter's eyes.
"He'll be okay. He knows how clumsy I am." MJ raises her eyebrows, and he gives her a sheepish look. "This kinda… happens a lot."
She crosses her arms. "Clumsy, huh?"
"So clumsy," he says gravely.
After a beat, MJ relents. "Okay, sure. Fine. I believe you. Just… watch out for yourself, okay? Benji's too cute to lose his dad."
"I will," Peter says immediately. "Hand on my heart."
"Good."
Peter bites his lip uncertainly, and MJ takes this as her cue to get out of here before things get weird and awkward, but it's already too late, because Peter speaks first.
"Hey, um, did you wanna come see Benji sometime? He's been asking after you."
He has? God, that child. MJ is really evaluating this whole hating-children thing.
"Oh yeah?"
Peter nods. "He's got some new drawings for you. Actually…" He goes digging in his pockets, and eventually he unfolds a crumpled piece of paper. FOR MISS MJ is scrawled at the top. Underneath is a picture of a raggedly drawn…
"Is that a spider?"
"Spider-horse hybrid," Peter informs her. "He thought you'd like it."
MJ laughs. "It's interesting. Do you just carry this around all day or…"
Yes . Another blush from Peter. MJ's killing it.
"I was planning on calling you. Really," Peter says. "Then I got nervous, and the drawing was supposed to be incentive, and then the stair thing happened…"
"Right," MJ says, amused. "The stair thing."
Peter rocks on his feet, just like Benji does. "Anyway. Um. What I was trying to say is… Benji's really getting into this whole drawing thing. And I was thinking… maybe you could come teach him a thing or two? I could pay you. Or not, if you think that's weird! And if you're busy, or you don't want to, that's also cool, and I totally get it, and—"
"Peter!" MJ interrupts. "Listen. I'm at the park on Wednesdays at three. I normally stay for a while, and I normally do some sketching. If you and Benji happened to be there at the same time…" She shrugs. "I wouldn't be opposed."
Peter breaks out into a cautious grin. "Really?"
"Really. And you know, sometimes, on Saturdays, when I have nothing on, I don't mind a little bit of company," MJ says slowly. She's trying not to laugh at his expression, because this is supposed to be cool. It's supposed to be slick. "And, you know, hypothetically, if someone had my number, and if that hypothetical person actually used it for once, I wouldn't be mad if that person rang up and asked to hang out sometime. As friends."
"Friends?" Peter asks, eyes bright.
MJ shoves her hair back behind her ear. "Hypothetically. But I mean, I called you a moron earlier, and you call me MJ, so. You know. It could be argued that we're already friends."
"I like having friends," Peter agrees. His phone beeps, and he winces. This guy must be all kinds of popular, the amount of times his phone goes off. "I—"
"Have to go? Yeah. Me too. But I'll see you around?" MJ asks. It's not like she's scared he'll say no; Peter looks like the kind of guy who'd rather fall down stairs than disappoint anyone. But this just isn't really the kind of thing she does. The friend thing. Making friends. Being nice . First the kid, now a friend. What is the world coming to?
"I'll see you Wednesday," Peter tells her.
She nods, and he takes off down the street. Just before he disappears into the NY bustle, she yells after him.
"Hey, Peter! Don't go falling down anymore stairs!"
Peter turns back, and MJ briefly makes out the way his face splits into a grin before he's swallowed up by taller people.
"See ya, MJ!"
Ridiculous. This whole thing is ridiculous. And MJ kind of doesn't mind.