Chapter Text
It starts on a Tuesday morning. Already, she wonders if she should wrap some neon yellow caution tape around her head after nearly coming face to face with a cold slab of metal.
“Oh, my god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you were right there and trust me—I wouldn’t have nearly hit you with the locker door.” He closes it gently, wincing, before eyeing her with curiosity. “Hey, you’re Michelle, right?”
The boy with the Star Wars pins on his backpack doesn’t give her a chance to respond, already outstretching his hand for a high-five or a shake, an excited grin spreading that has surely stemmed from too much caffeine. He tells her that they’re assigned locker neighbors, and while she could’ve figured that out herself, she’s glad he’s the one who’s initiating conversation.
Reluctantly, Michelle slaps his palm with the barest amount of enthusiasm and a small smile, having not expected someone to be so chipper at seven in the morning. It feels unnatural but then again, she’s simply not a morning person.
She meets Ned on the first day of freshman year.
It’s purely a stroke of luck that his locker ended up being right next to hers, and she should consider herself lucky, knowing that she could’ve ended up with someone far worse. And it’s not even that Ned is bad, but it’s hard to keep up with the stream of small talk spewing from his mouth—especially since she barely knows the guy.
Michelle listens though, learns more about him in the next few minutes than she knows about most people. He’s a big Star Wars fan, obviously, and his Lola sent him off on his first day after having him take one of those corny first day of school photos. The type of photos that are meant to be memorable but only serve as embarrassing pieces of blackmail that your parents will hold over your head. She thinks when she looks back, she’ll remember her first day well and good without having to fake a smile in front of a camera.
“Do we have the same classes?” she asks, cutting him off and feeling bad about it afterwards, but he takes it in stride and pulls out his schedule to compare. They do. First, third, and seventh period. “So...I’ll see you?”
“For sure. See you, Michelle,” Ned tells her with a smile that makes her feel a little less tired, a little more confident about the rest of the day.
First period isn’t bad but it’s bland—exactly like you’d expect on the first day of school. She didn’t have high expectations to learn anything that week since students can’t be expected to read syllabi on their own, so she’s not too disappointed. The rest of her morning classes come and go without excitement.
Lunch rolls around and Michelle tries not to act offended when she finds Ned in the cafeteria and sees him looking for someone else before settling on her. She sits down anyway, tries to play it off and figures she can move if he asks. It’s fine—whatever.
“Do you mind if someone else comes to sit with us?” he asks instead, hesitant. “Only because, uh, since it’s the first day and we’re literally freshmen shit, I figured it would be nice...if we all had each other as like...friends.”
“I don’t care.” She really doesn’t.
“Okay, cool,” Ned says slowly before smiling again, offering her a carrot stick. She shakes her head no, him shrugging and starts talking about his classes for a while. She listens without much to add, poking at her lunch. Her sandwich is soft, soggy from being in the bag for so long, and it’s cold. It’s her own fault for packing a grilled cheese.
“Ned?” Another voice pipes up from not too far away, Michelle’s attention diverting to the other boy that’s starting to approach their section of the table. He smiles, almost shyly, and she scrutinizes his hair, framed glasses, and incredibly nerdy t-shirt about telekinesis. “Oh, hi. Sorry I’m late. I’m...Peter. Parker.”
Michelle stares at him blankly for a moment before looking back down at her lunch, feeling an odd bout of irritation swirl in her gut. He’s been in a few of her classes already. “I know.”
“Peter, Michelle. Michelle, Peter,” Ned tacks on.
She merely nods, returning to her food, and Peter hesitates for a moment with his eyes on her before nodding, sitting down next to Ned. They start talking about Star Wars, predictably, and she still doesn’t have anything to add to the conversation.
When lunch ends, they all go their separate ways, and the rest of her day is uneventful. By the time she gets home, she drops her bag on the floor of her bedroom and collapses face-first onto her bed, falling asleep until dinner—which is when she gets drilled about school.
The week in itself is long. She doesn’t go out of her way to do anything outside of schoolwork but entertains the idea of joining the academic decathlon team. Extracurriculars look good on college applications, her mom always says.
Ned continues to sit with her at lunch every day, even if Peter isn’t there because of some robotics club or band practice where he goes to eat, which is nice. And if she’s being completely honest, she likes it better when it’s just the two of them without Peter—he simply gets on her nerves.
But she enjoys Ned’s company and thinks that if this continued until the end of the year—hell, even to graduation—she wouldn’t be mad.
Outside of school, they start to have study sessions together, movie nights, afternoons spent walking Michelle’s dog around the block, and that’s when their friendship feels like it’s turning into something concrete.
“This is unnecessary.”
“It’s very necessary. Very, very, very necessary,” Ned tells her with a smirk, placing one lego on top of the other while she supports the structure. He told her they were building one of the Seven Wonders, but she thinks she’s been tricked when it starts looking suspiciously like the Death Star.
The first time he invites her over to his Lola’s house is to watch one of the Star Wars movies—shocker—because she’d never seen them before, never cared to. The movie wasn’t very good, but his Lola had made them lumpia , which was delicious, and they all talked for hours until Michelle’s mom came to pick her up.
Ned is great. Wonderful. He’s all she needs during freshman year when the only other thing she cares about right now is keeping up a good GPA and joining the decathlon team.
Except. There’s a day when Ned catches a cold and has to stay home, inevitably leaving Michelle alone at school. It was bound to happen at some point. She still has Peter, but that’s basically equivalent to being alone.
They're not friends.
“Hey, Michelle,” Peter says at lunch, one of the few times he’s shown, and well—she has to snort. Lucky her. She glances up from her reading, chewing her cheek, but he doesn’t offer anything more. Just awkwardly clears his throat and pushes his glasses up. Almost nervously. “Sorry. Uh, never mind.”
“No, spit it out.” She bookmarks her page before resting her elbows on the table, squinting. “What are you hiding, Peter?”
“What am I hiding?” He laughs, like full-on laughs, and she’s taken aback by the sound. It’s loud and abrupt and kind of sweet, but she ducks her head because he’s drawing attention. She thinks she should be embarrassed but is still trying to comprehend what she just heard. “God, sorry—”
“Stop apologizing.”
“Sorry,” Peter whispers, almost cheekily. She blinks at him before cracking a small smile, and he smiles back. It’s sweet, like his laugh, and she can’t quite decide whether that’s a good thing or not, so she stabs her lettuce leaves instead. “Do I annoy you?”
“What gives you that impression?” she drawls, and he rubs the back of his neck, faltering under her gaze. It’s kind of funny.
“You just don’t seem to like me is all.” He pauses, waiting for her to say something, maybe counteract his point, but when she just continues staring him hard in the face, he goes on rambling. “I’m sorry if I’ve done anything to you, but I don’t think I’ve even seen you around enough to have done something? I mean, obviously we all eat lunch together, but I’m only here half the time—”
“Okay, buddy. If you want me to be straight with you, yeah, you’re kinda annoying,” she says flatly, and he snaps his mouth closed. “But I don’t...not like you? Like you said, you’re not around enough for me to even have an opinion.”
“You still think I'm annoying,” he replies with a frown.
“Well, that’s a fact, not an opinion.” She pauses a moment, gauging the way his frown deepens before huffing because the kid is taking this too seriously. “Relax. I’m, like...messing with you. We’re good, Parker.”
“We’re good, Jones?” Peter eventually says, grinning slightly, and she shrugs. Her cheeks feel warm when she sees his eyes flitting across her face, but it’s the middle of November, so where’s her excuse now. “I was gonna say. My uncle tells me I’m a people-pleaser...meaning I’ll only get more annoying. If you said you didn’t like me, you’d be in for a big storm.”
“God, you’re the type who wants everyone to like them? I hate those people.” She nudges his foot under the table, Peter resting his cheek against his palm as he stares at her. “Does that mean I’m gonna hate you too?”
He chuckles a bit and presses his lips together. “I hope not. I think I’ve got a few redeeming qualities? Prepare yourself either way to find out.”
“Oh, I will.”
And she does. Tries , at least, to prepare for the impact that someone like Peter Parker could have on her. She had expected a disaster, a fallout that would result in what her first impressions told her—that they wouldn’t get along, or that they couldn’t be friends.
But then she starts to invite him on dog walks with her after they’re left alone yet again, Ned busy out of town to visit family in the Philippines, and when Peter somehow manages to keep her interest with conversation, makes her laugh and keeps her laughing, nudges her shoulder as if they’ve known each other for years, Michelle realizes oh .
Maybe hating him isn’t really the case at all.
It’s Peter’s turn to host movie night.
Michelle is aware that movie nights have started to become a regular thing, once upon a time just being her and Ned—and now including Peter. And despite her initial low-set expectations, her preference of being more one-on-one with her friends, it’s not too bad with the three of them.
They usually save them for Friday nights or weekends because they’re either busy with school or decathlon, but it’s winter break now. So they have all the time in the world to waste, and they’re eager.
She doesn’t remember when they began to alternate houses, but she figures that Ned’s Lola was probably getting tired of seeing their faces around her apartment all of the time and was far too nice to say anything about it.
Michelle has never been over to Peter’s apartment, but she knows he lives with his aunt and uncle. Almost everyone in school is aware of the fact—if only because Flash Thompson can’t seem to keep his mouth shut. It’s no secret.
“Oh, Michelle! It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’ve been hearing a lot about you, dear,” May says with a beam, immediately sweeping her into a hug, and it’s a warm one at that. She smells of honey and citrus and laundry detergent, a comforting combination that reminds her of her own mom.
“May, please,” Peter protests, and it’s that moment when Michelle’s glad she can’t see what his face looks like. If he starts blushing for no good reason, she probably would as well. Like some chain reaction that’s probably a science pun on one of his t-shirts.
Ben waltzes over, and the first thing she notices is how uncanny the resemblance is with his nephew, right down to the glasses. He offers his hand for a shake and smiles when she does, saying, “Strong grip.”
“My dad and I always used to arm wrestle,” Michelle replies with a small laugh and tries not to recount every time she’s lost because her pride won’t allow it. There were no such things as pity wins in their house.
“Oh, damn. I’ve done that with Peter a few times.” He lowers his voice. “Five to zero and counting.”
Peter makes a strangled groan in the background.
“Now, who are you trying to impress, hon?” May jokes, brings her husband over and lightly pecks him on the cheek, his grin an immediate, soft thing. “I’m sure Michelle has you beat by a long shot.”
“They’re always like this,” Peter tells her in a form of an apology, as if their warmth is something to be embarrassed about. She shrugs it off, smiling at the idea of their family and not saying a word when he stares at her like he wants to know what she’s thinking.
Ned arrives soon thereafter, and they go through another round of greetings and hugs before finally starting the movie. She somehow finds herself sandwiched in between the two of them, him already snoozing on her one shoulder while Peter is leaning against her other, blinking heavily like he might doze off next.
“Your aunt and uncle are really nice,” she eventually whispers to him because one, she doesn’t want him to fall asleep as well. And two, it’s the truth. He nudges her sock-covered foot with his own, smiling tiredly and removing his glasses to rub his eyes.
“I know.”
“You’ve got a good family.” And her voice is somehow quieter than her previous whisper, knowing it’s not meant for him to hear, but he probably does anyway. He would know what she means—he’s been over to her home before, and it’s fine. She loves her parents. It’s just not the same.
“You’re welcome to come over any time...if you’d like,” Peter replies back, blinking sleepily at her, and she tightens her smile. He doesn’t say anything more, drifting off to sleep with his cheek squished against her sweater and his curls tickling her nose. There’s no point in even attempting to pay attention to the movie now.
With both of them asleep, Michelle is left with her thoughts, which is relatively dangerous when they lead her to briefly wonder if this is what friendship is meant to be—acting as a place where her friends can come to rest after they’ve had long days, weeks, months. She thinks it would be nice to know if it would be reciprocated, but she can’t say she would trust them enough to let herself find out. Not yet, at least.
It’s interesting that they trust her in that way, though. She feels kind of nervous and her heart is pretty erratic in her chest when she thinks about it too hard, but she doesn’t want to wake either of them up by moving. So she wiggles her toes in her socks, flexes her fingers, stares at the ceiling and wonders if this doubt she has is aimed at them or herself.
Their movie night ends the next morning with pancakes and a group hug that has her flustered, so she leaves in a rush and tries not to contact them for the rest of winter break. She tells her parents that she’s dedicating the time to herself when they inevitably ask.
When Peter and Ned stop trying to reach out to her, she wonders if it’s the hassle of being friends with her that’s too much. The doubt continues, nearly sending her into a spiral even as she returns back to school after break.
But they’re there, waiting by her locker and wearing soft smiles, belated gifts in their arms and all. She doesn’t apologize for ignoring them, but they act as if she doesn’t need to explain anything at all.
Ned gives her a homemade t-shirt he had printed of her favorite bands, and Peter gives a vintage copy of the Black Dahlia book that he knows she loves so much. She’s almost brought to tears and it’s embarrassing, but they hug her and make her question if she’s been wrong about what friendship really is.
“Hey, stop that,” Michelle grumbles, outstretching a hand if only to push him off the couch that they’d managed to fit side by side on. He lands on the floor with a grunt, and she’d apologize if he didn’t immediately pull her down with him. “Okay, you know what, Parker—”
“I don’t really know anything,” he replies with a small smirk, taking his glasses off and placing them on the table. But the smirk disappears rather quickly, and he groans, rubbing his face. “Not even kidding. We’re meant to be studying for midterms, and I literally know nothing.”
“You know how to use ‘literally’ incorrectly, and that’s something,” she responds flatly, him rolling his eyes. Typical. She sits up, leaning back against the couch, and he sidles up next to her with a sigh, peering at her notes. “Okay, what do you need help with? Lit?”
“Maybe. Yes.” He blows out a breath, throwing his head back on the couch cushions. “If you would be so kind and help your friend out? Or we could, like, make it even. You help me with Lit, I’ll help you with chem.”
Michelle blinks at him indignantly, swiping a hand over her mouth. “What makes you think I need help with chem?”
“Nothing! I just—I thought...you know, we could just...exchange brain power, or something,” he replies in a small voice, rubbing the back of his neck, and she stares at him hard before cracking a minuscule smile.
“Cute. Alright, whatever. Down for it.”
“Cute?” Peter flushes, and she isn’t sure if he knows she’s not calling him cute, but then he bumps her shoulder, smiling something to himself, and she forgets to correct him. Every little action makes her heart speed up slightly, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s no big deal. Perfectly...normal. “Right back at ya.”
“I’m only studying with Ned from now on,” she blurts out, flustered with no second thoughts, and he freezes, buffering for a moment. But then his stance relaxes even though hers does not, Peter obviously assuming she’s messing with him yet again. And maybe she is—she wishes she knew.
“You love me.”
“I barely tolerate you.”
“That’s good enough for me,” he whispers and rests his chin on her shoulder to look at the textbook. She thinks this isn’t fair at all, and if she weren’t in his home, in his living room, she’d tell him to get out. But she is, so she keeps quiet and lets him stay where he’s at while hating the fact that her cheeks are too hot for February weather.
It’s embarrassing if she thinks about it for too long, the way she tends to over-analyze her relationships with other people. She feels the most self-conscious in that way, wondering how she’s perceived by everyone else.
Maybe that’s simply the epitome of being in high school, and if so, she’s already tired and looking forward to graduating—or at least growing up.
But if there’s one thing Michelle has been made sure of, it’s that she and Peter don’t have a normal friendship. It feels borderline everything but a friendship at this point—like they could be nemeses for all she knows. If his eyes weren’t so sweet towards her, she’d chalk it up to that and move on.
Sometimes, he becomes quieter around her and doesn’t offer much in the way of conversation, always snapping his mouth shut before even speaking a word. She shouldn’t be shocked at that—he’s never really been one to tell her what’s on his mind if it isn’t generic or surface-level.
But then she catches him staring every once in a while, and he always looks away as if he’s been burned. Sometimes when that happens, it feels as if she has been as well. And it’s been more frequent as of late, but she likes to tell herself that that’s just the way he is.
He teases her in the most irritating yet tender way, but they’re fifteen, so it’s not like it means anything. It’s not like the warmth in her cheeks is caused by anything more than a blood rush, a scientific explanation, and it’s definitely not like they’re anything more than what they are.
She just wishes she knew what that was.
“Have you trapped yourself in your own head again? You should talk to me,” Peter softly suggests, and she chews the inside of her cheek, shaking her head. She tells him there’s nothing to talk about, which is the truth, though he doesn’t seem to believe her.
“Focus, Parker. I’m helping you get that A,” Michelle says, using his shoulder this time, and he exhales quietly, resting his cheek against her hair.
“I...hate gym,” Ned groans to the ceiling, loud enough for Coach Wilson to shoot them a stern glare. He’s sheepish but doesn’t apologize, resting his hands on his knees as he stands bent over. Ten laps later, and they all feel like they’re gonna keel over because no one is in shape. “Shoulda opted out of this class.”
Theoretically, it shouldn’t be bad because their gym isn’t the biggest, but in practice after having not done physical activity until their second semester, it’s terribly exhausting and feels pointless.
“Too late now, Leeds!” Wilson calls from across the room, clicking and unclicking his pen against his clipboard. He dips the brim of his cap down over his eyes, voice only raising. “You too, Jones! I can tell what you’re thinking.”
“Glad to know,” Michelle exhales to herself, pulling her hair into an elastic and refraining from drawing herself in her sketchbook with two middle fingers up at this entire class. She plops down on one of the disgusting mats and lies on her back, knowing they’ve got sit-ups that she probably won’t do.
Peter suddenly drops down on the mat next to her, wheezing, and she sits back up—cross one off her sit-up count at least. He shakes his head, pounding his chest with a closed fist, breath coming out in spurts.
“Mic—Michelle, my—”
“Ned, you know where his inhaler is,” Michelle calls out, watching as he’s already running towards the boys’ locker room. She turns back to Peter and thinks he should be viable to opt out of gym class with asthma like his. “Okay...okay. Wilson hasn’t noticed yet, but we are getting you out of this class—”
“No, no—” He wheezes again, making grabby hands for the inhaler Ned runs in with, taking a puff before finally resting back on the mat. She almost thinks he has died with his eyes closed like that, but his breathing is steadier. “No, I can do this. I just...you know. Should probably keep this in my pocket.”
Michelle leans over him, her hair falling into his face, and he cracks an eye open. Smiles. She scoffs and lies next to him, Ned on his other side.
“You idiot.”
“Thanks, you guys,” Peter says, all gushy and overly saccharine, and she elbows him in the ribs. He wipes the sweat off his face with his t-shirt, groans louder when they hear Wilson reminding them that they’ve got thirty sit-ups to do. “You wanna do this as a team or something? Like, we each get a third of the count?”
“Yeah, okay,” Michelle sighs, rubbing her eyes before starting her sit-ups. She fixes her gaze on the ceiling but that’s before she feels pressure on her shoes, seeing Peter holding them for her. They’re almost nose-to-nose by the time she comes up, though she can’t really do anything about that or her racing heart due to the obvious exertion. Adrenaline. “Hi, there.”
“Hi. Keep up the good work, you grade-A athlete,” he teases, and she pokes at her cheek with her tongue. They take turns, Michelle holding Ned’s shoes and Ned holding Peter’s. It’s a system and it works, and she thinks she could tolerate gym class if it were always like this.
“I’ve kept your glasses in my bag. Safekeeping like you asked,” Michelle tells Peter after class, handing them back. He smiles and pops them back on, the thin brown frames accentuating his features—lashes, freckles, the usual. Not that she usually notices. Just an observation, super casual. “Don’t know how you survived gym class without them.”
Peter laughs, gripping the straps of his backpack as they make their way out the school doors to catch up with Ned, gym class being the last of the day. “Have you seen me? ‘Survived’ feels like an overstatement.”
“You’re here, aren’t you?” she says, and he ducks his head, hides his grin. “So, uh. Ben is the one taking us out, right? I know you said May has been volunteering more recently.”
“Yeah, Ben said we deserved a treat, and well. I’m certainly not one to tell him what we do or don’t deserve,” Peter hums, waving Ned over. “Hey, dude. Like, I know it’s winter and everything, but ice cream is made for every season, right?”
“Hell, yeah,” he cheers. “I feel kinda bad, though. My Lola gave me a bit of extra money that I can use to pay for mine—”
“No need, Ned,” his voice calls out from behind them, Michelle turning around to see Ben pulling up in his car with the windows down. It’s the dead of winter, and he’s clearly living on the edge. “My treat for you kids. You’ve all been working super hard lately, according to Pete that is…”
“And Pete would never lie,” Michelle drawls, receiving a pinch to her elbow. She smirks slightly, welcoming Ben’s warmth anyway as she climbs into his backseat with Ned. They manage small talk on the drive to the parlor, little things like True Crime podcasts and serial killers brought up.
And, well, she thinks it’s pretty cool that Ben is into the same things she is.
When ordering her ice cream, Michelle makes sure to get two scoops of cherry swirl minus the maraschino cherry. Ned gets dark chocolate raspberry with a drizzle of chocolate sauce, and the Parkers end up getting the same thing—vanilla. No contamination, no nuts. Allergies run in the family.
“No, but you’re so bad at air hockey,” Ned tells her in the middle of taking in a spoonful of ice cream. She rolls her eyes because obviously, he’s right, but debating who's the worst is not doing good things for her ego. “Remember that one time we went bowling and—”
“Listen, do you know how easy it is for those pucks to just fly off the table?” she replies indignantly, Ned’s smug expression meaning he’s taking that as a win. “Let’s not pretend you didn’t cheat—”
“Did someone say sore loser?”
“When did you guys go bowling?” Peter pipes up, a small smile on his face as he takes another bite of his vanilla, and she feels slightly bad that he wasn’t invited then. But it was before they were friends—back when she could stand him a little less than she does right now.
“Oh, way back in October. I just know Michelle still holds a grudge,” Ned explains with a chuckle, exchanging looks with the two of them. “We should go again. The three of us? Four—if you wanna come, Ben?”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude on the shenanigans,” Ben immediately says, holding his hands up, but he seems delighted at the exchange.
“Yeah, that would be cool,” Peter mumbles with a grin, and she meets his eyes, cheek resting in her palm. They exchange identical smiles, Michelle having to shovel some ice cream in her mouth moments later to temper the heat in her face. “So, um, are you guys going on that field trip in April? To Oscorp?”
“Yeah, bro,” Ned says with a dreamy sigh. “Super excited about it.”
“Nope,” Michelle drawls, stabbing at her half-melted dessert. “You?”
“Um, yeah. May and Ben already paid the ten dollars, which is stupidly expensive for a bus fare, but...yeah. I’m going,” he rambles, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “How come you aren’t?”
“I’m not really interested in feeding Oscorp any more money,” she says, knowing that’s where the ten dollars is really going, and presses her lips into a small smile. “Plus, I’ve been there already.”
“Oh—yeah, of course. That makes sense.” He bites his lower lip, and she does the same, refraining from kicking his leg under the table because she can feel it bumping into hers. “Well, I’ll send you pictures. I mean, Ned and I will. Just so you won’t be missing out on anything.”
“Thanks,” Michelle replies, not unkindly, and he nods, eager. She glances at his uncle, sees something significant in his expression that she’d just love to know the meaning behind. But it’s directed at Peter with a slight smirk, like ‘I’ve been in your shoes before, buddy’ kinda vibes. “I appreciate you.”
Peter flounders. That’s the only way to put it, him dropping his plastic spoon on the dirty tile, napkins fluttering everywhere. But he doesn’t react to any of that, his eyes stuck on her. “I appreciate you, too.”
The snow starts falling outside the parlor window, and it feels like winter truly, but she thinks she wouldn’t mind being stuck in a snow globe, frozen and looking in on moments like these again.
“Go to bed, Meesh. It’s almost midnight!”
Michelle glances towards the hallway before standing up from where she’s been sitting at her desk, toeing the door closed. She can hear her mom and dad talking in low voices downstairs, and she almost considers eavesdropping but decides against it, returning to her desk.
It’s cluttered with textbooks and loose sheets of notebook paper that contain absentminded sketches when she may or may not have been blanking in class. Her desk isn’t exactly the cleanest, but she knows where everything is and that’s all that really matters to her.
She clicks off her desk lamp, shrouding her bedroom in darkness save for the sliver of moonlight peeking out from behind her curtains, and falls into bed, not bothering to wait for either of her parents to come up.
Ten minutes of lying facedown on her pillow pass, Michelle eventually turning onto her back and pulling the comforter over her shoulders. She finds her mind wandering, spinning, her thoughts making her too dizzy yet not tired enough to fall asleep. Sometimes they get like that when she’s had a particularly busy day, and she usually ends up staring at the red glow of her clock as if it’ll do her any good.
There’s a scratching at her door before it cracks open, a blur of fur rushing in and she’s suddenly someone’s pillow, Jasmine snuffling in her ear. She sits up, lets the labradoodle lie across the opposite end of her bed while resisting the urge to push her off entirely.
They’ve had Jasmine since Michelle was small, barely any larger than she was, and now the girl is getting up there in her old lady years. She’s slower and has the luxury of sleeping in the sun more, but she’s still just as lovable, just as wonderful as she’s always been.
Michelle loves her more than anything.
She rests her head against Jasmine’s back and stares at the ceiling for a while until she hears her phone vibrate from under her pillow. Pulling it out, she sees the contact pic, a flash of someone’s familiar brown curls. That’s really all it takes for her to answer.
“It’s a school night,” she says flatly, her voice muffled against her dog’s fur as she flips the camera so it’s focused on Jasmine. There’s no doubt in her mind that Peter likes her dog more than her, which—fair. They’d really bonded during their dog walks. “Say hello to your fav.”
“Jasmine, love of my life,” Peter replies eagerly yet softly, like he’s exhausted. She wonders why he would’ve called her if that were the case, but all she can see is the light of his phone reflecting the top of his bunk bed. “I didn’t know if you’d answer or not.”
“I keep my phone under my pillow.”
“Oh.” Peter turns his camera around so she gets a good look at his untamed eyebrow, messy hair. “Sorry if I woke you then. I just called...I mean, I guess I don’t really know why. Can’t really sleep and my first thought was probably...wondering if you’re up.”
Michelle hums noncommittally, rolling off Jasmine and onto her back, resting her phone on the pillow beside her. “I can’t really sleep either, so we’re in the same boat there. You’re going to be exhausted tomorrow, though.”
“I can sleep during lunch or something,” he replies with a yawn, and she snorts. “S’fine. I like talking to you more than I like having a normal sleep schedule anyway.”
She wonders if it’s the sleep deprivation that makes him say things like that, as if it’s something of an everyday conversation—as if it’s a completely normal thing to tell her with no qualms—but she figures asking will only make it worse. They’re both tired. “How flattering. Do you remember when I couldn’t stand you?”
“You mean like five months ago? Last week? Yesterday?” Peter pauses, lowering his voice almost conspiratorially, and she has half a mind to end the call then and there because yet again, he’s teasing her. “Right now?”
“All of the above,” Michelle deadpans, and he muffled a laugh into his pillow. She thinks this is rather unfair that he gets to call her at ungodly hours and make her cheeks heat up like this. “Go to bed, Parker.”
“Keep talking to me, and maybe I’ll fall asleep,” he mumbles, and okay. She doesn’t know if that means he thinks she’s as dull as a doornail to talk to, or if her voice puts him to sleep. But she tells him about her day anyway, even though he was there. She talks about her morning, her evening, her family dinner that was quieter than this midnight conversation. And maybe she says too much, rambles on for too long.
But by the time she turns her screen towards her, she sees him with his eyes closed, his breathing steady, phone resting right near his face on the mattress. He looks peaceful sleeping in this way, and her lips curl into an unprecedented smile.
She really can’t remember what it was like when she couldn’t stand him.
“Do you think I should join the decathlon team next year?” Ned asks, serious, and she’s already nodding her head because they need more people. All of the senior members are leaving them this year, and Liz is set to be captain next year, so the more the merrier. “Gotta make my college applications look all fancy-schmancy.”
“You know, I bet you could probably put designing a website on there, too.” And before he can open his mouth, eyes a little wide, she smirks slightly and says, “I found it. Using your coding skills to track superhero activity? I mean. Sounds illegal, but you know. College apps might not think so.”
“One of these days,” he says slowly, squinting, hand squeezing his locker door. “I’m gonna find out how you know everything.”
“Watch and learn, Leeds. I’m not obsessed, I’ve just got eyes in the back of my—” She cuts herself off when arms come around her waist and she’s nearly tipped on her ass rather than lifted off the ground. “What the hell, Parker?”
“You know what, one of these days, I’ll be taller than you and that’ll actually work,” Peter exhales from behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder briefly, and she buffers for a solid ten seconds. “Hi, guys. Sorry I’m late. Ben and May just wanted to talk to me, and then I had to walk...and you know how it is.”
“Try to pick me up again, Peter, I dare you,” Michelle grumbles, and he laughs, thankfully giving up along the way.
“So what are we talking about?”
“The way Michelle knows everything.”
“Confirmed,” Peter says.
“Ned is joining the decathlon team next year, thank god,” she huffs as an abrupt change to the subject, tucking a curl behind her ear, and Peter’s expression goes thoughtful.
“Ooh. I’m already in band and robotics...but maybe I’d be able to make some time for AcaDec too. That sounds fun. It’s about the variety ,” Peter hums, and she rubs her lips together, pokes her cheek with her tongue.
“What instrument do you play in band? I don’t think I’ve ever asked,” Michelle says, finishing the thought off with ‘ or cared’ . But she’s curious, and he looks bashful at the fact that she suddenly does care now.
“Um. The saxophone.”
“The saxophone,” she repeats, delighted.
“Dude, he’s really good,” Ned pipes in, Michelle humming noncommittally. She nudges Peter with her elbow, and he’s blushing at the ground. “Pete, you should play for her sometime. Like, a private show.”
“Haha, I don’t know,” Peter stammers, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s exaggerating, obviously. Like, with my asthma and everything, I wouldn’t say I’m the best. But I like playing it, so there’s that.”
“I’m sure you’re amazing,” she tells him with a small smile, and he meets her eyes, a pretty flush coloring his cheeks. And, well, she’s doing nothing to help her own case, but whatever. At this point, she’ll take it. “I’d like to hear sometime? If that’s okay.”
Peter swallows, gauging her expression, and then he nods. “Yeah. Okay. Whatever you want.”
The weekend after their field trip to Oscorp is when she’s been promised a show, and it’s Friday—a whole week later—meaning she does indeed have patience for not nagging him beforehand. He said he wanted to plan and prepare and probably practice, as if it’s that big of a deal.
But at the moment, she’s alone at their lunch table, sorting decathlon practice cards while they’re probably on the bus or in the building at this point. She rests her cheek against her palm, exhaling, and then hears someone clear their throat from above her. She glances up to find Flash standing there, a tentative smile on his face despite his words.
“I’m assuming the two dweebs are on that field trip?”
“Yeah, they are,” she replies, squinting and watching him squirm slightly before looking back down at the card in her hand, not missing a beat. “Why are you asking?”
“I was wondering…” He hesitates, awkward, shifting from one foot to the other. “Look, all of my friends are on the trip, too. I don’t really want to be seen sitting alone, so do you mind if I just...join you?”
“Go for it,” Michelle concedes but reluctantly, only because it seems like he isn’t going to go away even if she doesn’t give him an answer. She could’ve said no. She probably should’ve said no, because now he’s talking to her, distracting her, but it’s not really that big of a deal. Until he clears his throat twice. “Flash. Do you mind?”
“Ah, come on, Michelle. Don’t lie, you probably already know those flashcards like the back of your hand. Besides, it’s not every day that you get to hear about—”
“Can I be honest?” She rests her elbows on the table, leaning forward, and he trails off about the car his dad already bought for him for his birthday...next year. “I’m sorry, but you need to find something other than...bragging rights to talk about in order for me to listen to you.”
“Geez, no need to rain on the parade,” he says with a quieter laugh, but he eventually falls silent. He must really not have anything else to talk about.
Michelle manages to get in at least a few more cards memorized before noticing that he’s just staring at her with this expression she can’t quite get a read on. She clears her throat, raises an eyebrow, sees the way he straightens in his seat.
“What?” she asks.
“Maybe this is a weird question. I know we’re not friends. You’re just being...decent, letting me sit here so we can be lonely together,” he begins, and she doesn’t think that’s a good way to start off a question. “What do you think...I would be good at? Like, honestly.”
It is a weird question, especially one to ask her. She doesn’t know Flash personally—doesn’t know him outside of school, and even then, he’s simply uncharacterized to her. She just doesn’t know him at all.
“I’m not sure. Do you have any hobbies?”
“Well, if I had hobbies, I wouldn’t be asking,” he says with a roll of his eyes, and she bristles slightly. He just gets on her nerves. “But you’re the one who told me I should find something else to talk about, so I’m just curious. Hit me.”
“I think you need to find a hobby. Try it out. I’m sure there’s someone or something out there that’ll give you an idea to be passionate about. Even if it’s just for fun,” she says, giving him a look and a small shrug. “Anything that steers away from the ‘trust fund baby’ talk, yeah?”
“That’s the only interesting thing about me.” And Flash says it like he’s joking, but she thinks he believes it, even if just a little, and her lips tug into a small frown. “Whatever. You’re probably right. I’ll find something fun, it’ll turn me into a chick magnet, and we’ll be golden.”
“I really do question how your brain operates most of the time.”
“Wouldn’t you like to know, Jones?” he says, winks at her, and then stands up to leave. She watches the back of his head before sighing, clicking and unclicking her pen against the table. Lunch is almost over at that point.
But of course, her friends have the worst timing. She’s in the middle of throwing her lunch away when her phone rings, that familiar head of curls taking up her entire screen. She falls back into her seat and answers the call, closing her eyes, saying, “You’ve reached Michelle Jones. She’s currently not on her phone right now, but please leave a message at the tone.”
There’s a beat of silence and then, “You’re annoying.”
“ You’re annoying. Calling me right as lunch is about to end,” she grumbles, him snickering as if it’s the funniest thing. “I do appreciate all of the pictures you’ve been clogging my phone with. Don’t know what any of them are.”
“Oh, I could explain if you wanted,” Peter replies enthusiastically. “You know chemistry and physics are my favorite, so this is...it’s really cool. Like, they’ve been taking us around the whole place and there’s a lot of stuff going on behind the scenes.”
“Like what?”
There’s some shuffling on his end, like he’s asking Ned a question. It takes a moment for him to say, “I didn’t get a picture, but I can show you? We finished with the tour and we’re all kinda just sitting here...I think Harrington went off with Mr. Dell somewhere.”
“You should probably stay with the group,” she tells him, bored, and he waves her off, saying that he is with part of his group—that being Ned. Just Ned. His phone is angled so that she gets a good look at his guest pass hanging from around his neck and refrains from rolling her eyes. “Pete, I don’t think I care about this as much as you do.”
“That’s because you haven’t seen it,” he replies in a hushed voice, muttering something to Ned about standing outside just in case. “Okay, I’m just gonna...take a peek. They left the door unlocked because I’m pretty sure this is for public viewing, anyway.”
“I don’t really…” Michelle trails off when Peter spins his camera around so that she gets to see a full range of spiders in terrariums. Her heart falls somewhere between her mouth and her throat. “Okay. You know I hate bugs.”
“They’re not bugs, they’re arachnids.”
“I’m gonna end the—oh, my god . Stop,” she exclaims when he zooms in on one of the cages. “You asshole.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, laughing a little, turning the camera around to face him again. “I’m sorry, I’ll let you hate spiders in peace.”
“Thank you,” Michelle responds pointedly, the bell ringing just then to signal the end of lunch. She stands up and starts gathering her things, only to glance back down at her phone to see his camera pointed straight at the ceiling. “Did you drop me? Peter.”
“Shit,” he curses in the background, and it’s muffled. There’s something akin to a crash before he appears in view again, picking his phone up off the floor. “Okay, spiders do not like high-pitched noises. Lived and learned. I’m gonna get sued.”
Michelle sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, already walking towards her next class. “What did you do?”
“The bell freaked them out and, like, one of them jumped and escaped in the room. I was gonna kill it, but then I figured I’m nice,” he explains, slightly breathless as he closes the door behind him. “So I picked it up—”
“Like an idiot.”
“Like an idiot . And—okay, it got me pretty good, but it’s safe and sound back in its stupid tank.” He wipes his brow with the back of his hand, and she grimaces at the bite mark between his thumb and forefinger. “I should probably, uh…”
“Go to the nurse?”
“Google home remedies,” Peter finishes, looking like a pale sheet of paper right about now. She opens her mouth to say something, but then her history teacher closes the classroom door. “You should probably…go.”
“I’ll visit later,” Michelle says, gnawing on her lower lip, but he gives her a small smile, shakes his head, tells her that he’s been practicing his saxophone for her—that she can come over tomorrow and no sooner. “If you say so…”
“Can’t wait,” he says with a weary smile before ending the call, leaving her unable to focus in class.