Chapter Text
Peter was lying on the floor, feet propped on his bed while he stared up at the ceiling, watching the way the air conditioner made the little cobwebs near the light fixture wobble.
“I’m just saying,” MJ argued, “Scholarships aren’t guaranteed. You need a backup plan or you’re going to be stuck with a lifetime supply of debt in the form of student loans. And everyone knows those are just the government’s version of a Ponzi scheme.”
Ned sighed. “Maybe I could sell a kidney.”
Peter frowned. “Pretty sure you can’t sell a body part, dude. It’s illegal.”
“You can sell sperm,” MJ pointed out. Peter stopped frowning and the ceiling webs suddenly got a lot less interesting. Also, he was fairly certain MJ shouldn’t be allowed to say sperm that casually.
Not that he would tell her that.
“How much do they pay?” Ned asked.
And okay, they were talking about this. Cool.
MJ did a quick google search, quirked an eyebrow, and said, “About seventy bucks a pop.” She then looked at Peter. “How much did you say MIT’s tuition was?”
“Almost fifty thousand a semester.”
“Alright, divide that by seventy,” she typed a little more, “and that’s about 715 trips to the sperm bank.”
Ned shrugged. “Don’t judge, but I think that’s totally doable.”
“That’s just for one semester,” MJ clarified. “And that’s not counting room and board, book costs…all in all you’re talking about almost 2800 times a year.”
Peter tried not to blush when MJ looked down at him again and said, “That’s roughly once a day for seven and a half years or eight times a day every day for a year.”
“Still doable,” Ned whispered.
Peter rolled his eyes and sat up. “Dude, no. It’ll fall off.”
MJ made a little noise that might have been a snort, but she hid it and started clicking on links.
Then May, always punctual with her awkward timing, barged in, purse in one hand, keys in the other.
Peter looked at the computer screen where MJ had googled “sperm bank near me” and quickly slammed the laptop’s lid closed.
May narrowed her eyes. “Whatcha looking at?”
“Nothing,” Peter said with a tightlipped smile.
But not before Ned had time to panic and open his mouth. “…Porn.”
“Dude,” Peter moaned. “That is so much worse.”
May just blinked then turned to MJ. “Do I want to know?”
MJ shrugged. “It has to do with sperm.”
Peter finally understood how people could crave death.
May gave a heavy sigh, pulled her purse onto her shoulder and said, “Whatever. I’m going to the grocery store. You guys enjoy your porn.”
“It’s not porn!” Peter called after her as she turned to leave.
“Still don’t want to know!”
Peter just sighed and collapsed, falling back until his shoulders met the bed. “I hate both of you.”
“No you don’t,” Ned reminded him. “Besides, who else is going to help you figure out how to finance your higher education?”
“So far you’ve come up with selling a kidney and marathon sperm donations.” Peter leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “I think I’ll take my chances with student loans at this point.”
“If I had a dick, I’d totally do the sperm thing,” MJ said, somehow keeping a straight face the entire time. She opened the laptop again and resumed clicking.
“Pretty sure we’d all die if we had to jerk off eight times a day for a year.”
“I don’t know,” MJ taunted, “Judging by what I’m seeing in your internet history, you wouldn’t have a problem with it.”
Dear sweet, Death. Come hither.
He snatched his laptop back, focused anywhere that wasn’t MJ’s gleeful smirk, and tucked his computer beneath his bed. “What about blood?” he said, reaching for a topic that somehow didn’t involve his dick. “You can sell that right?”
“Yeah, but that’s limited,” Ned pointed out, and the traitorous bastard was laughing. “You can only donate so much so often.”
MJ, still smirking, pulled her phone out and resumed perusing the internet. “Besides, you can’t sell blood, Peter. You’re a mutant—“
“Not a mutant.”
“--and you already have a hard enough time keeping your blood on the inside as it is. I say you’re better off beating one out every now and then.”
“Don’t worry,” Ned sighed, grabbing the PlayStation controller from the desk. “He’s got that covered. Paid or not.”
“I still hate you both,” Peter reminded them.
“No you don’t.”
MJ pulled up another google search while Ned waited for the video game to load. Peter went back to looking at the little cobwebs on the ceiling.
Senior year was fast approaching. And yeah, he had the grades for scholarships, but so did a lot of other kids.
May did her best, but she did good to keep the rent paid. Which meant, despite Ned’s insistence that he ask Tony to pay for his college, Peter was pretty much on his own.
Well, except for Ned.
And MJ.
And her crazy get rich quick schemes.
“You guys could always sell pictures of your feet.”
“What?” Peter spluttered, leaning in to look over her shoulder so he could see her phone. “What site are you on?!”
“Craigslist,” she said, all nonchalant. “This one guy is willing to pay like fifteen bucks per picture.”
Ned frowned but then looked down at his mismatched socks, flexing his toes unnecessarily as his head tilted to the side, considering.
MJ just turned back to her phone. “I won’t judge you.”