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Peter walks into the coffee shop late, obviously. He’s only got to grab a coffee before heading to the Tower so he’s not particularly rushing. He sees her the second the door swings shut and he has to apologise to the person walking in behind him because he stopped moving. Love, at first sight, is not something he’s ever believed in but people can change their minds.
She’s sitting near the window and the light shines through her curly hair like she’s a quest in a video game. That means he should go up to her right? It’s basically the rules. If he wants to win that is. She doesn’t have anything in front of her, drinks included, which makes him think that maybe she’s waiting for someone? What if it’s him? He shakes his head because, why on earth would it be him?
Oh shit.
She looked up and straight at him. God, she’s stunning and he doesn’t know why he thought he’d ever have been able to go and say hi. She’s terrifying. She waves at him and what the fuck? He must look ridiculous because as he stumbles over to her like a giraffe learning to walk she bites her lip and smiles. He’s not making it out of this coffee shop alive.
He approaches her table, trying to slyly wipe his hand on his jeans so he can, what? Shake her hand? Is it an interview? Kiss her hand? Is she the Queen of fucking England? He wouldn’t be surprised to be fair. She stands up when he’s about to stop and attempt to form words but once again he’s taken aback. She’s as tall as him, maybe an inch taller if he could lift his eyes from her face long enough to look. But she’s wearing a silky looking black shirt and tight jeans and is dangerously pretty this close.
“Hey, Brad?” Well, there go his hopes and dreams. Sorry, May.
“Yeah - yes, hi.” What?! He reaches his hand out stiffly and she laughs at him again, but he can’t find it in himself to care. She has a beautiful smile.
“I’m MJ, it’s nice to meet you,” she says shaking his hand. If he takes a mental note that it fits perfectly in his that’s for him to know. He can be Brad for the next 70 years if it means talking to her.
“You, as well.” She gestures to the seat opposite her and he realises this might be his dream come true. Forget being Spiderman, forget graduating from MIT, forget it all. It’s whatever is happening here, with her, MJ.
“Are you okay?” she asks, elbow perched on the table with her head in her hand. She’s so fucking cute. His inner monologue is going to run out of ways to describe her soon. Shaking his head he realises she asked him a question,
“Yeah! Are you?” she hums in response and he’s giddy with excitement. “Would you like a drink? Or a cake or something? Or a drink and a cake? A sandwich? Are you hungry?”
“Brad-” dammit, he doesn’t like the way she says that name, maybe if he changed it via deed poll? “-calm down.” She rests her hand on his laying on the table, her thumb swipes back and forwards and he’s not sure why she’s telling him to calm down and then touching him.
“Sorry-” he says with a laugh, “-can I get you anything?” Just as he finishes a waiter comes over and he kicks himself when he realises it’s table service. She moves her hand away as he takes the menu and he misses her touch already. When he looks over at her, she’s looking at the menu but suppressing her smile with her teeth, and it’s easily one of his favourite things already.
He manages to stop staring at her for long enough to peruse the menu and orders a cajun chicken panini, curly fries, garlic bread and water. It’s only when he looks at her trying not to laugh again, that he remembers it’s barely lunchtime. And he ordered garlic bread. On what he assumes must be a date. Before he has the chance to segway out of it, she says that she’ll have the same, but with cold brew with sweet foam.
She must think he’s looking at her with confusion because she follows up when the waiter has left,
“It’s my treat drink.” he’s not confused at her drink order - he’s just mesmerised by her.
“Treat, huh?” he says in what he hopes she can identify at his pitiful attempt at flirting. She laughs loudly at him which suggests he’s not as sly as he thinks and he’s completely smitten.
“Yeah,” she says with a gleam in her eye. He likes it a lot.
“Are you not treating yourself? You ordered half the menu.”
He fakes gasps and puts his hand on his chest, “Are you body-shaming me, MJ? How dare you.-” she’s thrown her head back in laughter and his next words get caught in his throat when he sees the long expanse of her neck. Letting his eyes fall slightly he can see her collarbones through the opening of her shirt, and has that always been such an attractive part of someone? He can barely breathe.
“I don’t think I could body shame you if I tried.” And hello. He gets a small confidence boost from hearing her say that and from seeing the way she slowly dips her gaze to his arms and back. Okay, he gets a big boost, whatever.
“Oh yeah?” he says, attempting to funnel this new confidence into something he can work with. He goes to rest his forearms on the table and tense his biceps but she raises an eyebrow at him and he misses his mark, almost whacking his head in the process. Fuck, he wants to die. Maybe he could just stay down here and never lookup. He could walk out of the cafe like Quasimodo.
Her hand on his bicep pulls him out of his pity party and he looks up at her, trying too hard not to laugh and he can’t help but smile back at her.
“Are you okay for real this time?” she’s slightly leaning on the table to reach him and he mirrors her, arms making contact with the table this time. He nods, but he knows he’s blushing furiously.
“You’re adorable.”
“Adorable? That’s not what I’m going for here,” he says with a mock frown. Although she can call him whatever she wants.
“That’s not what I’m going for here,” she responds in what is an amazing rendition of his voice, and his facial expression. Her with furrowed eyebrows and a pout is too much and his heart is beating way too fast.
“You’re messing with me!” he knows he’s being pitiful but she’s so fucking cute he’ll do anything to make her laugh. Even act like a complete fool.
“Dork,” she says but her face is resting in her hand again and she hasn’t leant back. She glances up at the waiter putting their drinks down and says a genuine thankyou as she moves to stir her drink.
“So, how do you know Betty? Why hasn’t she set me up with you before?”
And dammit, who is Betty? Who is Brad ? Is he going to turn up? He should probably figure out how to tell her she got confused when he turned up. But she’s stirring her drink with a spoon and he watches as she scoops some of the foam up, flips the spoon over - huh it doesn’t move - and places it on her tongue to lick it off.
Her foot touching his calf under the table snaps him out of his blatant staring at her lips, and he glances up feeling incredibly embarrassed.
“Wanna try?” she says and he couldn’t be less shocked that she can put him to shame in the flirting game. He wants to say yes, wants to do something that makes her act anywhere near are stupid as him but he doesn’t think there’s any way for that to happen.
He goes to speak but is interrupted by,
“Michelle?” Michelle? Who is Michelle?
“Yeah?” MJ says to the rude person disrupting their- oh no. Oh no, he didn’t even get to eat his food. Will they put it in a takeaway box? Will he have to wait at the counter and watch MJ, Michelle go on a date with real Brad?
“I’m Brad-” he says with a smug smile “-I’m meant to be on a date with you?-” okay yeah he can see why he’s annoyed, but does he have to have such a tone?! “-Who’s this?” and he looks down at him. He looks to MJ and expects to find her fuming, but she seems to be trying to hide a laugh.
“Yeah, who are you?” she says with a glint in her eye which makes him turn to face her properly. He grabs the back of his neck because that’s what he does when he’s nervous, and right now he’s terrified.
“Peter,” he says with a small smile.
“He’s Peter,” she says to Brad.
Brad looks utterly confused and somewhat offended. He looks between them both again and says,
“But you’re mine and -” Ew.
“I’m, what ?” Oh, she’s mad. And she is beautiful when she’s mad. He’s not entirely sure there’s ever a time when she hasn’t been the most beautiful person in the room.
Brad puts his hands up placatingly and Peter watches as Michelle decides whether or not to call him out on his bullshit. She seemingly decides not to and he hopes he has the chance to ask her why.
“Sorry. Well, I’m here so-” he looks to Peter expectantly, like he should leave. What’s the etiquette here? He doesn’t want to go - he wants to spend the day, week, month, year talking to Michelle. But he did kind of interrupt? She was due to meet him. But she also hasn’t called him a creep or told him to fuck off. So he stays seated.
“Oh, we already ordered,” she says turning her body back to him, resting her chin on her hand again in a way that makes his insides flutter.
“Is this some joke?” and look, he feels bad, so he should explain the situation. But then he remembers he’d look like a total tool if he explained she thought he was her date because he was staring at her from across the coffee place. But he does feel like a bit of a jerk, so he goes to explain but is cut off by Brad.
“Seriously? You’d rather be on a date with him , than me?” And hey-
“Yeah.” Oh, okay - yeah, Brad.
She’s turned her body to look at him and apologetically says, “Sorry, this kind of just happened, and I wanna see what happens next-” she says that part looking over at him and he’s never wanted to kiss someone so badly.
He misses the way Brad storms out the coffee place, misses the waiter placing down his food, misses the way Michelle rolls her eyes at him fondly when he stutters out an apology. He sorts his plates and dumps the specific sauces on each one, trying to give himself some time to quit being so flustered.
When he glances up from his food to Michelle, again, she raises her eyebrow at him in question. For what he’s not sure. Why do you keep staring at me - I should have said yes to Brad? Why are you not talking?
“You’re really pretty.” he manages to splutter out.
“Therefore I have value?” Oh no. That’s not- his panic must be showing on his face, clearly, he can’t hide anything from her, because she follows up with,
“I’m messing with you-” and she bites her lip in what he’s figured out is an attempt to hide her smile “-thank you. You’re pretty too.”
“I gathered you thought that when you told Brad to fuck off.” He widens his eyes at his outburst, seemingly gathering confidence from somewhere but this was not where he wanted to use it. Her eyes widen a little bit like she’s taken aback but ultimately she ends up smiling without hiding anything. Fuck, she’s so beautiful.
“Sorry,” he says and she doesn’t seem shocked like she knew it was coming. Like she wanted him to bring up the fact he pretended to be someone else.
“I don’t- I just -” he smiles sheepishly at her “-I really wanted to come and talk to you and there is no chance I ever would have gotten the courage. But then you waved me over so it was like a sign right? Like-”
“What, like we’re meant to be?”
“Yeah,” he says a little too dreamily, oh shit. “No - I mean. Fuck-” but she’s smiling at him and he doesn’t want her to ever stop.
“Do you wanna go out with me again?” she says dipping one of her fries into his dollop of ketchup. He manages, barely, to bite back a groan as she licks her fingers clean, not taking her eyes off him.
“Yes. Please.” he’s proud of himself for getting a coherent sentence out, especially when she’s looking at him like that.
Smiling at her plate, she says, “What are you doing after this?” And he thinks about his plans for the day, he was supposed to go to the Tower and see Tony. He was meant to patrol for a little while later.
“Getting dinner with you?” he asks hopefully and she rolls her eyes at him again.
“We’re literally eating!” she picks up a bunch of fries, waves them at him and attempts to put them all in her mouth at once. Laughing heartily at her he rolls his eyes and crosses his arms across his chest.
“What do you wanna do?” he says, but she’s zoned out and he’s nervous that he’s pushed too far. Leaning forwards and successfully gets his forearms to make contact with the table.
“MJ?” she blinks and shakes her head, looking at him with confusion.
“Are you okay? We don’t have to do anything after this - honestly - I mean, I’d like too. But also, I don’t wanna freak you out so-”
“You’re really hot.”
“What?” he says is nowhere near a squeak.
She rolls her eyes at him again and this time it hits him somewhere lower.
“You’ve got insane arms and I was distracted-” oh. Oh . “-But yeah, I’ll get dinner with you. Or you know, something else that isn’t eating food,” she says mirroring his pose. He wants to kiss her, but he can’t figure out how to lean over the table without getting his food all over him. She doesn’t have that problem, leaning her hands on the table - eyes flicking to his lips then back up to his eyes in question - he meets her halfway.
It’s a quick kiss, they’re in a coffee shop after all. But it’s enough for him to know he wants to do this for a very long time. Before he can get his hand off the table and onto the back of her neck, she whispers “later.” Before pecking him again and sitting back down.
She looks the picture of nonchalance, and he feels like he looks like an utter mess. She winks at him and he huffs out a moan.
“Stop fucking with me,” he says lowly, leaning forwards on the table once more. Food borderline forgotten. Should they get to-go containers? If she looks at him like that again he might do something he regrets. Well, semi- regrets.
“But it’s fun,” she says resting her hand on his arm again.
“Wanna get out of here?” - “Shall we get this to go?” he beams at her and she rolls her eyes while getting the attention of the waiter. Her hand never leaves his arm and he intertwines their fingers. He knows he’s looking at her with far too much emotion for someone he’s known for thirty minutes tops but he doesn’t want to stop.
“Dork,” but she’s looking at him too, with much prettier heart eyes. He cannot wait to spend the rest of life - the day, the rest of the day - with her.