Work Text:
Sunday Night Dishes
There aren’t a lot of things that make Peter Parker a good roommate. He’s loud and clumsy and disorganized. He goes out all the time and comes back in the dead of night – MJ’s pretty sure she’s figured out why but that’s another subject –, which always wakes her up. He’s always late when they make plans, or when he has a class before noon, and he always leaves his empty Doritos bag on the couch after a movie marathon with Ned. He forgets to open the window after taking a shower every. single. time., and now there’s mold in one of the top corners of their bathroom – although, he did say he would clean that up since it’s definitely his fault and not hers or Ned’s.
MJ has to give it to him though, he always does his dishes. That’s one good point, she guesses. She’s particularly glad that’s the case, especially right now. It’s the middle of summer, Ned is away on vacation with his family in Hawaii, so it’s just her and Peter. They decided to keep the apartment for the summer because it was easier that way, and yes at first MJ got a little wary at the idea because Peter kind of is a terrible roommate, with Ned usually balancing his awfulness out because he’s the best. Without Ned in the equation, she was pretty sure they would crash and burn in a matter of days, or even hours really.
And yet, after a couple of days, Peter and her somehow managed to settle in a sort of routine, and as surprising as it sounds, it’s been mostly okay. One week and a half in, one more week to go, and MJ has to admit it, her summer is not as terrible as she thought it would be. She found a job in a bookstore a couple of blocks from home to keep up with rent, and it’s been a great experience. Peter brings her lunch every day when he wakes up and before he goes to his work at the Daily Bugle, and every night she cooks and he does the dishes before going out – to do some Spider-Man things, or at least that’s what she’s been suspecting him to do for a little while now.
(She tried mentioning it once in passing, and he got so red and confused it definitely was a confirmation in itself, despite the fact that he denied it all. It’s okay she figures, they’re all entitled to have secrets in life, even red and blue spandex ones.)
They usually do their own dishes when Ned is around, but without even talking about it they kinda changed that when Ned left for Hawaii. She cooks, and he does the dishes. She likes it, it suits her, and it seems to suit him too, so that’s great.
Peter Parker has a very specific routine when it comes to doing the dishes. At first MJ always retreated back to her room after they’d finished eating, but these days she’s finding herself lingering in the common area, sitting on one of the wonky bar stool and scrolling on her laptop, or settling on the couch with a book. The couch offers the best overall view, but from the bar stool she can see his forearms and hands, which is nice too.
(She figures it’s okay to check him out every now and then, after all only a blind nun wouldn’t notice how freaking ripped that dork is. She’s not blind, and she’s not a nun, so there’s that.)
Every night, after they’re done eating, Peter grabs their plates and sets them on the small counter. Then he proceeds to empty the sink from the rest of the dishes they used during the day to set them on the counter as well. After that he grabs his phone and puts on the most random playlist of all time. He told her once – after she’d made fun of him – that it consisted of all his favorite songs, no matter the genre, and that is why it can switch from Hakuna Matata to Metallica’s Enter Sandman the next minute.
(He told her that she would get used to it too, and she had retorted that it was impossible. Fast forward six months, now when it comes to Parker’s playlist her favorite game is to try and guess what the next song is gonna be – although that’s definitely not something she would ever admit out loud to him. She’s pretty good at this game though.)
Tonight it starts with Coldplay’s Til Kingdom Come. MJ can feel his amused gaze roaming her face when she starts humming it absentmindedly. “Told you you’d get used to it,” he points out smugly, and she rolls her eyes, not even looking up from her laptop.
“Get to work, Parker.”
It’s Sunday, which means a lot more dishes than usual. She made pancakes for breakfast this morning, and cookies this afternoon. Sometimes a sort of cooking frenzy takes over her for some reason. Peter never complains. They didn’t even order take out today, eating some leftovers from last night’s homemade fajitas for lunch, and a nice ratatouille for dinner. Now that she thinks about it, they’ve been ordering less and less food these past few weeks. That’s alright though, she likes to cook, and he likes to help out when she gets bored of peeling and cutting vegetables.
They’re a good team.
Wow, now that’s a sentence she never thought she’d say one day.
From above her laptop screen, MJ catches him wiggle his stupid perfect butt in rhythm as he grabs the sponge, and she bites down a smile because of how ridiculous that dork is. She tries to focus on the article she’s been reading, but it proves itself difficult somehow.
Once Peter’s done emptying the sink and putting his music on, he fills a bowl with hot water and soap and starts working on the dishes. He’s weirdly organized when it comes to dishes for someone whose room’s never been tidied since they moved in almost a year ago. First he grabs the plates, emptying the rests of food in the bin before roughly rinsing them and setting them in the sink. Then he rinses the bowls, mugs and glasses, and then the cutlery.
(He always keeps the pans and pots for the end. She suspects it’s because he doesn’t like doing them, but she’s not sure. She’s not gonna ask him because then he would realize she pays attention to what he’s doing and she’s not too keen on him knowing that.)
Once he’s rinsed off everything, he pours soap on the sponge and washes everything, starting with the spoons and ending with the plates. She asked him once why he didn’t wash whatever comes first like normal people do, and he told her he hated people who do that because they’re also the ones who keep the water running while doing the dishes and that’s not good for the planet. She’d called him a responsible weirdo after that, and he’d laughed.
(And she may or may not have put in an effort to use less water after that particular rant of his.)
The funniest part of Peter’s dishes routine though is how he keeps singing and dancing the entire time. He’s not a great singer at all, but what annoyed her a lot at first has now become almost endearing to MJ, somehow. She’s not entirely sure how that happened. From where she sits, she can see him wiggle and use the sponge as a mic every now and then, and she has to battle herself to keep an even face despite how hilarious she finds it all.
It’s never boring to watch Peter do the dishes.
(Another sentence she never thought she’d say one day.)
Sum 41’s What We’re All About goes on, and she snorts when she sees him happily bounce up on his toes a couple of times. He turns his face to look at her, and for some reason her heart jumps in her chest. He’s smirking, his eyes glinting in amusement, and there’s a colony of soap bubbles perched on one of his eyebrows. He looks as ridiculous as ever, but for some reason the only thing she wants to do at this very instant is reach out and wipe the bubbles off. Her fingers twitch and she averts her gaze instantly, astonished.
W hat was that?
She finds her gaze wandering back to him after another minute of fruitless attempt to focus on her article. She thinks to herself she might just be tired. Today’s been particularly hot, and it was her turn to clean the apartment so she’s a little sore. That’s probably just it. She slides off of her stool and heads to the fridge to get the Brita out. She then nudges Peter in the ribs to reach for the cupboard above him where they keep the glasses. He groans and moves sideways, hands covered in soap bubbles.
“You threw off my groove,” he complains in a fairly good Kuzco impression, and she sticks her tongue at him before pouring herself a glass of cold water. She can feel his gaze on her and she likes it. Realizing that makes her a little giddy and she puts back the Brita in the fridge and rushes back to her laptop, cheeks a little hot. Peter is back at singing like an idiot – Post Malone’s Sunflower, of which for some reason he only knows a few words here and there and sings gibberish the rest of the time.
MJ just sits there, a little conflicted. Her gaze moves back to observing Peter as he works his way through rinsing everything and setting it to dry. When she’s in charge of the dishes she always dry them with a cloth afterwards because she doesn’t trust their wonky dish rack.Peter on the other hand is especially good at balancing everything so that it dries nice and quick and doesn’t fall. She doesn’t know what his secret is. Is it a super-hero thing? Sometimes she kind of wishes he would let her in on that big part of his life. She thinks he doesn’t suspect that she knows – which honestly is kind of an insult to her intelligence and observation skills really, because he’s everything but discreet when it comes to it, and so is Ned. Still, it would be nice to be a part of it.
She’s a little surprised by her own train of thoughts. She would never have thought when she moved in with the two nerds that she would want to be a part of anything with them. Not that she has anything against nerds in general, it’s just that she appreciates being alone more. Or at least that’s what she thought. But then again, here she is, enduring Peter’s horrible rendition of Back in Black when she could be alone and at peace in her room. How did this happen?
“Oh damn it!”
MJ looks up to see Peter stepping back from the sink, a large water stain on his blue t-shirt. She can’t help her snort and Peter pouts like the cute dork he is. “I hate washing the pots,” he grumbles, pulling the wet fabric away from his skin. When MJ snickers he glances at her with a frown, but his eyes are playful when he speaks again: “Is it okay if I…?” He mimics the act of taking his shirt off, and MJ’s mind goes blank. She must have nodded without even realizing it because Peter takes it off with a sigh, hanging it on the oven’s handle for it to dry off. Then he goes back to his dishes and his singing, leaving MJ with a brain filled with a lot of erratic thoughts.
That’s too much, she thinks. Too much skin, too much muscle, too much confusing emotions rushing through her at the sight of her stupid roommate without a shirt. She’s torn between just running back to her room and ignoring everything, or staying there and owning to what she’s feeling and has been feeling for a little while now. It’s terrifying really, but she doesn’t think she can deny it much longer now.
Third possibility: blatantly ignore it all and laugh it off. She’s deeply aware of the fact that it’s a poor defense mechanism, but that’s all she can muster right now apparently. She coughs a ‘show off’ and Peter glances at her with an affronted face that makes her smirk.
“Hey, I asked first!” he complains, but even from where she is she can see the corners of his mouth slightly perking up.
“You did that on purpose,” MJ retorts, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at him, and to her greatest surprise Peter actually blushes hard. “Wait, did you… do it on purpose?” The quiet, hesitant hope in her voice is so blatantly obvious to her she can feel her own cheeks redden too. Luckily though Peter seems lost in whatever mortifying thought he’s having because he doesn’t seem to notice.
“No, nuh-uh, nope, absolutely not,” he stammers, going to grab the last pan in the sink and turning on the water to rinse it. He puts it under the jet, but too close and it splashes around again, drenching him in water. A few droplets even reach MJ and she grabs her laptop and holds it above her head to not get it soaked.
“You idiot!” she shrieks as Peter messily turns off the water, dropping the pan in the sink with a loud clang.
“I’m so sorry!” he exclaims, grabbing the dish cloth to wipe the water away from the counter so she can put down her laptop. “MJ I’m really sorry I’m –”
She waves him off, setting her laptop down and doubling up from a crazy fit of giggles. Peter stares at her in shock for a second, and then from her teary-from-laughter eyes she sees his eyes light up as he starts laughing too. They laugh together for a minute, and honestly it feels amazing. Then MJ is shaking her head without being able to get rid of her smile.
“Alright, I take back what I said,” she tells him, “you probably didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Ah yes, I’m probably just that stupid,” Peter agrees, but his eyes are playful and somehow it makes MJ doubt the entire thing all over again.
Why is he making her so confused? Ugh. She kind of knows why, but she doesn’t want to dwell on it because it might prove itself to be quite problematic really. What would happen if they start to be more than roommates but then it doesn’t work out? She doesn’t want to have to move out of the apartment. She loves her room, and it’s well situated, and alright yes she admits it,she likes living with Ned and Peter. It’s fun. It’s different. It’s exciting, and unexpected things happen all the time, keeping her on her toes.
“Alright, I’m done now,” Peter says, and she snaps out of her thoughts to realize he’s turned his music off and is now staring at her from behind the bar. She stares back, trying not to glance down at his stupid chest. “Do you… wanna watch a movie together maybe?” he asks after a minute, tracing the edge of the counter with his thumb, not looking directly at her.
“K.”
Peter looks up with pleasantly surprised eyes as she closes her laptop, but she acts like she doesn’t care and gets down of her bar stool to head towards the couch. Internally, she’s absolutely freaking out, but she successfully keeps it to herself. There’s nothing weird about watching a movie with your hot roommate on a Sunday night, right? Damn it she’s getting confused again, that adjective was not supposed to describe Parker, more like the especially warm summer day they’ve had today, obviously. Oh well.
MJ sits down on the couch, ignoring her pounding heart. She hears Peter fumble in the kitchen while she looks for the remote, and she intently keeps her gaze on the black screen of the TV when he walks up to the couch and sets down two glasses and a bowl of chips on the coffee table. It doesn’t go unnoticed that he’s still not wearing a shirt, but MJ doesn’t comment on it because honestly she doesn’t think she’d be able to align two words if she tried to speak anyway.
That’s right, keep the illusion of blatant indifference running.
Peter quietly sits on the couch, and MJ doesn’t even dare to move. She’s never thought much about it before, but suddenly their couch seems especially minuscule and like they’re a lot closer to each other than they should be. Then again, it’s not weird to sit next to her roommate to watch TV right? Nah. She’s doing great. She’s got this.
“You’re not gonna ask me to put a shirt on?”
Damn it. Peter’s voice is teasing, and she prays to Thor or anyone really that he doesn’t notice the goosebumps raising on her arms. She cannot blame it on anything really, since it’s a thousand degrees in here anyway. She wonders if he has any idea what he’s doing to her or not. She would have thought probably not, but then again there’s something different about him tonight, and really it’s as terrifying as it is exciting, she thinks.
MJ gives him a side-eye, seizing the amusement in his eyes, his slightly pink cheekbones, his somehow nervous smirk, and then the pleasant sight of his naked torso. This is fine. She’s got this. “Meh.” She shrugs with that, turning the TV on like it’s nothing, like her heart isn’t pounding in her chest and her skin isn’t one million degrees just because he’s sitting next to her looking like that.
And it’s fine right? She can watch TV with her half-naked smart super-hero-on-the-side sweet dork of a roommate right? That’s a thing.
Yes, that’s definitely a thing real platonic roommates do. Everything’s fine.
She’s got this.