Chapter Text
Michelle Jones.
Even just saying her name in his head made Peter’s heartbeat quicken.
It was cliche, but it was hard not to be when it came to his best friend. MJ was incredibly funny; sarcastic and witty with a dry sense of humor that could always make May snort in amusement. She was loyal, an incredible friend who would stick by your side, whether it was through midterms or an alien invasion. MJ was smart, too, beyond smart, and determined. She had literally designed her own double major at Empire State, a pre-med biology/scientific illustration major that she absolutely excelled at. Every time she started talking about her research on brain tissue, the “Peter is a lovesick idiot” group chat Gwen had started was full of the candids his shithead friends had sent of him staring at MJ like, well, like a lovesick idiot. In his defense, when MJ got excited, she would beam, and her eyes would light up like they were full of stars. MJ was beautiful, and every time she winked at him or absent-mindedly played with the ends of one of her braids while she was focusing, Peter had to remind himself not to break whatever he was holding in his hand at that moment.
MJ was––well, simply put, MJ was too wonderful to just describe with mere adjectives. Peter had never really been that good with words. (After all, Miles was the one who wrote poetry and performed at poetry slams.)
So it was normal, really, for Peter to see MJ’s contact pop up on his phone when she texted him, the little mj <3 making his heart stop. Maybe the <3 was a bit premature, since they weren’t actually together. His confession to her on the roof hadn’t gone all that great, as far as love confessions went, considering he was in a literal hellhole of depression and disordered eating. Admittedly, he hadn’t actually said the words ‘I like you’, but it had been obvious enough for MJ to realize what he was saying. It had been a no, but Peter thought that maybe, just maybe, MJ had meant no, not yet .
So every time he saw a notification of a message from her, yeah, he got all “lovesick”, sue him. (Johnny was one to talk, considering how gleeful he had been last week when Ned had canceled a date to hang out with him instead.) But this time was different.
He was in line at the coffee shop on campus and had asked her if she wanted any coffee, and she had just sent back a shrugging emoji. MJ never used emojis, unless she was truly upset and didn’t feel like typing anything out. He stared down at the message, mind quickly going over all of their interactions in the past week. It had been normal, all things considering. The entire group had gone to her apartment on Tuesday for a movie night, and Gwen had spilled popcorn all over the place during a jump scare, but MJ had just rolled her eyes and handed her a dustpan. She had told Ned and Peter when they met up on Wednesday morning that she had aced her inorganic chemistry exam, and she had mentioned to Miles and Peter yesterday that she was visiting home this weekend for the twins’ birthday party. She had been excited to see her family, a small little smile on her face that had caused Peter to snap his pen in half as he was working on his physics homework.
Something had to have happened in the past twenty-four hours to make MJ upset, and it clearly was something big to make her send that message.
“Spidey?” Peter’s head shot up at the name in a panic, but before he could fully freak out about his secret identity being blown, he made eye contact with Nadia, the smirking barista in front of him. Of fucking course. “I know you have a busy schedule and all, photographing your friend, but it’s your turn.” She gestured to the several empty feet in front of him, making his face burn. He hadn’t meant to hold up the line behind him.
“Last time I checked, my name was Peter,” he muttered, ignoring the Cheshire-like grin Nadia gave him. “Which I know you know, considering we literally share a class.”
“I’m already fluent in Mandarin, Spidey. I have a lot of time to kill,” she shrugged, already grabbing an iced cup to make his usual.
“And you’re still spending that time trying to convince the class I’m Spiderman? Well, one of them, anyway,” Peter asked, hoping that he sounded sarcastic enough to make the possibility of him being Spiderman seem ludicrous.
“You’re the one who shared that you photograph him on the first day,” she said, shrugging and handing the cup to another barista behind the bar. “I just think it’s funny that the two of you have never been seen in the same place at the same time.”
“Not true, I was there taking photos for the Bugle on National Spider-Team Day,” he argued, feeling the back of his neck start to sweat. Nadia stared at him, eyes slightly squinting.
“I’m sure you were,” she said casually, after several tense moments of silence. “The usual for Michelle?”
“No, uh, actually can you make her a medium chai latte? With oat milk, please?” Nadia’s left eyebrow rose just the slightest bit. After telling Johnny about previous interactions with Nadia, he had said that she must have a sixth sense for when things weren’t alright. Peter had rolled his eyes, but in moments like this, he couldn't help but agree.
“Trouble in paradise? Did you do something?” She grabbed a hot cup and started marking the milk substitution with a blood-red sharpie.
“Um...no? What paradise, exactly?” Nadia’s eyes flicked back up to his, a positively chaotic glint in them. Peter swore to whatever gods could be out there, if yet another person started giving him shit for his incredibly obvious crush, he was going to go full rogue.
“Y’know, the only time she’s ordered this before, she looked like she had been crying. It was right before Halloween,” she mused, putting the cup down and putting in the order details on the till.
“Why would you assume I was the one who made her that upset?” It was a fair assumption, considering how Peter had isolated himself from all his friends, gotten stabbed and refused to call Tony, almost bleeding out in the process, and been knee-deep in a breakdown. But it wasn’t like Nadia knew about all that. At least, he hoped Nadia didn’t know about that.
“Mmm, just something about you, I think. Anyway, Spidey, you can just put your chip in to pay,” she said, nodding her chin towards the register. “I’ll make this extra special for you, don’t you worry.”
“Oh, I’m suddenly so calm, thank you very much,” Peter muttered under his breath, paying for the drinks and wincing at the price. May had raised him to be frugal, and the extra cost for the chai physically pained him, but MJ was upset, and he knew the chai would help.
He moved to the side after paying, staring back at his phone again while he waited. MJ hadn’t sent any other messages, but he hadn’t been expecting her to. Still, he couldn’t help but hope to see anything other than that emoji.
“Spidey!” Peter rolled his eyes as Nadia handed two drinks over the bar. MJ’s drink was burning hot, but the heat felt nice through his gloves. December in New York was brutal on a spider-person. “Hope you can cheer Michelle up, otherwise just know I’ll kick your ass,” Nadia chirped, winking in response to the glare he gave her. Peter wasn’t ever really sure when Nadia was joking, but he wouldn’t be shocked if she was serious this time. After all, part of the reason MJ liked their barista was that Nadia had punched a sexist kid in one of their labs. Add to the fact that he had always gotten the vibe that Nadia never really liked him, he figured it would be best to leave for the library, as soon as possible.
“I’ll see you in class, Nadia,” Peter sighed, turning away with her laughter loud behind him. He pushed the door open with his hip, quickly dodging to avoid a pale, cranky-looking man who was walking into the shop. He was able to stop himself from spilling the drinks, but just barely.
Speedwalking, he tried to pull his jacket tighter around him with both drinks in his hands, the cold making him start to shiver violently. Thank god for his stickiness, or else the cups would have fallen for sure. Reaching the doors of the library, Peter dashed inside, thanking the universe for the blasting heat. MJ always complained it was too warm in the library, but it was one of the few buildings that he didn’t have to wear a jacket in.
If MJ was in their usual spot, she would be on the third floor. Peter headed to the elevator, groaning when he saw the maintenance sign on the door.
“Are you absolutely kidding me,” he muttered, eyes flicking to the stairs. He didn’t want to keep MJ waiting, but Dr. Kershaw, the head librarian, had basically threatened him and Ned sophomore year that if she saw them running on the stairs again, they’d be banned permanently from the library. He climbed up the stairs, taking them one at a time and pointedly staring at Dr. Kershaw, who was sorting books behind the check-out counter.
By the time Peter got up to the third floor, the chai had thankfully cooled down to a temperature that wouldn’t burn MJ’s tongue, but when he went to their usual table, MJ was nowhere to be found. He could hear a few people talking, the sound of keys being pressed and pencils against paper, but he couldn’t hear MJ.
Placing his stuff down on the table, he looked at MJ’s seat, her bag leaning against the leg of her chair and her notebooks scattered across the table. Her laptop was next to her sketchbook, open but the screen black. Peter’s eyebrows furrowed, staring down in confusion. MJ never left her sketchbook in plain sight; if she was out of her apartment, it was by her side. Peter’s heart race immediately jumped, but he forced himself to stay calm. Thankfully, MJ had never been kidnapped before over him, and if she was going to be kidnapped, he doubted that she would be taken in the middle of a library with a dozen other people on the same floor.
Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he called MJ, waiting for the telltale buzz of her phone so he could find her. His ears pricked up when he heard it, and he followed the sound to the back corner of the stacks, right next to books of nature poetry, if he remembered correctly. He stopped at the front of the bookshelves, peering back to see the slumped shape of MJ with her arms wrapped tightly around her legs. From here, he could pick up the faintest sound of wheezing. She squeezed her legs tighter when he took a step closer, clearly noticing his presence.
“MJ? It’s me. Peter, I mean. I guess you’d know that, considering you know my voice and all, but are you okay?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Peter cringed. Of course she wasn’t okay. Goodbye Spiderman, hello Captain Obvious.
“I’m not even going to ask how you found me, but I'm fine,” MJ said, the lie obvious even if Peter couldn’t hear her heartbeat. Which he totally could, though it was going so fast that he had almost missed the faint skip it had made when she lied to him. Still, he wasn’t going to call MJ out on it. He’d had his own share of not okay days, and it had always annoyed him to no end to be forced to open up about something he wasn’t ready to discuss.
“Okay. That’s good, I guess. Can I come back there and sit with you?” MJ didn’t say anything, but she did shrug, and Peter took that as permission to join her. He walked down and sat across from her, trying not to stare at his clearly upset friend. MJ’s eyes looked panicked, and he could tell she was biting down on the inside of her cheek.
“You’re a photographer, you know. If you take a picture, it will last longer,” MJ said, her voice shaky as she tried to smirk at her friend. Despite the situation, and the worry that was creeping up Peter’s stomach and throat, he snorted at the comment. It was typical of MJ to try and lighten the mood, to act like everything was fine in an attempt to distract herself from what was bothering her. He’d seen it before, when Harry had died and when her mom had started chemo. That especially had made MJ a private person with her grief; when her dad was at the hospital, it had been up to MJ to look after her younger siblings, even though she was little more than a child herself. She hadn’t wanted them to see her so upset, so that she trusted Peter enough to let him witness it wasn’t lost on him.
“And here I was thinking you hated my job at the Bugle,” Peter said, trying to match her sarcasm. “Have your feelings suddenly changed?” He understood that need for privacy, and the last thing he wanted to do was push her to talk when she didn’t want to. He would give her the out if she wanted it.
“Oh, I still hate it. Jameson is an asshole to you. Still, I’d be a bad friend to not recognize that you’re a pretty good photographer, especially considering how you get your photos,” MJ retorted, the wheezing noise and the panicked look in her eyes fading just the slightest bit.
“You’re going to make me blush,” Peter teased, seeing a small, genuine smile appear on MJ’s face. Okay, it was just the corner of her lips tilting up, but small victories were still victories.
“Not my fault you turn such a pretty pink, Parker,” MJ teased back, and that did actually make his face heat up a little, the warmth in her voice making his stomach twist in a very pleasurable way.
No! Focus! He reminded himself, willing any thoughts that weren’t about helping MJ feel better out of his head.
“I got you a chai,” he said casually, noticing the slight widening of her eyes. “Nadia said she made it extra special for you.” MJ’s mouth opened slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but then she stopped, taking a deep breath.
“When you say extra special, did she spit it in?” Peter rolled his eyes, the image of Nadia’s sharp grin popping up in his head.
“If Nadia was going to spit in anyone’s drink, trust me, MJ, it would be mine,” he sighed. “Do you want me to bring it back here?” MJ shook her head, instead pushing herself up before offering a hand to Peter.
“Nah, I don’t want anyone to take our table. Or my stuff. C’mon, let’s go.” Peter wasn’t sure whether or not to believe her, but he took the offered hand, his stomach lurching again when he felt her soft, warm palm. She must have just put on hand lotion, he realized, the strong smell of eucalyptus hitting his nose. “You alright? You’re scrunching your face up,” MJ explained, gesturing to her own face. Peter could feel his ears burn, and just muttered something under his breath.
No way was he going to tell MJ when she was upset that she smelled pretty. Yeah, it was true, and okay, he didn’t think she’d be weirded out (or at least, not that much), but there was a time and a place for a comment like that.
Luckily, MJ said nothing more, but when they got back to their table and she saw her laptop, she paused. It was only momentarily, but Peter heard her breath hitch again, the sound sharp in his ears. Her heartbeat went haywire, and that’s when Peter realized what was going on. At least, he was fairly certain he knew, though he certainly wasn’t the one going to medical school.
He was, however, an expert in panic attacks, and if he was right, MJ was right in the middle of one; one that had to be pretty bad to send MJ running and leaving her sketchbook behind.
MJ moved as if to pull out her chair, but Peter reached out his hand, tentatively touching her elbow. She turned her head over her shoulder to look at him, an eyebrow arching up in confusion.
“You just have your two lectures today, right?” Peter asked, already formulating a plan in his head. MJ nodded, and her eyes flicked down to his hand. Oh. It was still on her elbow. Feeling his face burn, he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and tried to give her a big grin.
“And are you doing anything important in those lectures?”
“Just exam prep, but I’m not too worried about either of those exams, honestly. I’m going to work on some sketches during the first lecture, actually.” Perfect.
“No you’re not,” Peter said nonchalantly, going to his side of the table and picking up his bag.
“I'm not, am I?” MJ asked, crossing her arms and looking at him with what he was willing to bet was fondness in her eyes. Or maybe it was the crush talking.
“Mhm. You and I are going to Brooklyn.”
“Brooklyn? Why are we going there?” Peter just shrugged, wrapping his scarf around his neck and passing MJ her chai.
“Oh, you’ll see. Now c’mon, put your coat on, it’s freezing out.” MJ looked at him for a second before pulling on her jacket and packing her things up.
“Fine, keep your secrets, then,” she quoted, taking off the lid of the chai, no doubt to check for spit or whatever surprise Nadia had left in it.
“Lord of the Rings? Now that’s hot,” Peter responded, hoping that his voice didn’t sound as lovesick as their friends said it was. In his defense, though, it was hot. MJ snorted, and his stomach dropped for a second, thinking that she was about to call him out, but then she showed him the chai.
Nadia had sprinkled cinnamon into the shape of a heart on top of the foam.
He was literally going to squash her like a wasp.