Chapter Text
MJ wasn’t really sure what she was trying to prove when she decided to take a microbiology course. Yes, she graduated from a STEM school (as valedictorian with honors, thank you very much) but college science courses like this were a whole other ballpark. Especially as a journalism major. But hey, she needed the STEM credit. That and her adorable (insufferable) boyfriend practically begged her to take the class with him.
And who was she to say no to Peter?
So that’s how she found herself on the floor of his dorm, notecards of test questions scattered about, trying with all her might to study for their first midterm. But something was keeping her from concentrating.
That something being her boyfriend, hacking up a lung.
Again, MJ wasn’t a STEM major, but if she were going for her Ph.D. she would bet he had a raging case of bronchitis. Not that the boy would ever admit to it.
“I can’t get sick MJ. It’s probably just some dust in the air.”
“Seriously Em, I just swallowed wrong that’s all.”
“My throat’s dry! I’m not sick!”
MJ had heard it all in the past few days, and she believed none of it.
She had seen Peter when he was ill, long before the spider bite. In fact, she had seen him sick a bunch of times, because pre-bite Peter was quite the sickly kid. She noted that this current “mystery cough” he had now was eerily similar to the one he had during their 6th-grade holiday choir concert, and he sounded a lot like he did in 8th grade when he could barely talk for their group presentation on The Outsiders.
Not that she took note of all the times he was sick. She wasn’t obsessed, just observant.
(She was a little obsessed).
But it doesn’t take an overly observant girlfriend to know that Peter should be in bed and resting right now. Especially when he could barely manage to catch a breath.
MJ tenses as she hears the deep chesty coughs come from where Peter sits studying at his desk. She holds her tongue, not wanting to poke the bear more than she already had. Peter would never and has never in his life gotten angry at Michelle, but the more she had pushed him to admit that he wasn’t feeling well, the more annoyed he was becoming. So she stayed quiet.
But Peter didn’t.
It seemed as time went on, Peter’s coughs became harsher, deeper, wetter even. MJ couldn’t help but grimace at the wheeze that was also now very evident in his breathing.
She glances up at him, his eyes glazed over with fever and his nose buried in micro-bio notes, seemingly unaware of the world around him and the virus raging in his lungs. MJ stifles a sigh, feeling fed up with her decision to keep quiet. She sets aside her flashcards and lays her head in her arms as she weighs her options.
She could continue to push and try to beg Peter to admit that he was unwell. But Michelle knew that would only lead to more defiance, so that was out of the question.
She could also simply force him to rest. She knew she had the capacity to get him into bed with just a look, but the idea of doing so made her feel uncomfortable. This was her boyfriend, not some animal she could just boss around.
Her feet kick in the air behind her as she continues to wrack her brain. She listens despairingly to Peter’s coughs as she thinks, and if she’s being honest, just the sound of his hacking was making her throat feel kinda scratchy too.
Wait. That could be something.
What if it wasn’t just Peter who wasn’t feeling their best?
MJ was known to be prone to migraines but hadn’t had one in a while thanks to a medication she had started. But what if, hypothetically, maybe she’d accidentally missed a dose?
MJ takes another glance at Peter, who was still zoned in on his own study guide, before making the first move in her grand plan.
She groans.
It isn’t too loud or overly painful sounding, but hopefully enough to warrant some alarm from her boyfriend.
And it has the desired effect, as out of the corner of her eye she sees Peter stop his studying and glance at her. Now, with his attention, she takes it up a notch. She groans slightly again, this time adding a wince and an eye rub.
She hears Peter make a soft concerned noise. Bingo.
He’s still looking at her, so she does her best to look just as rundown and sick as she can. It works.
“Em? You okay, babe?” Peter’s voice is gravely and nearly gone, but she can hear the worry in his tone. She’s got him right where she wants him.
She turns her head to answer him, her eyes squinting to make it seem as though the lights were making the headache worse.
“Hm? Oh, no yeah everything’s fine, Pete.” MJ’s voice is usually deeper and raspier than most, but she really cakes it on for this. Again, desired effect achieved.
“You really don’t sound great, Em. You sure?” His sentence is punctuated with a rough coughing fit, ironically enough. But even as the fit dies down his attention stays on MJ, who is now rubbing her temples like her life depended on it, both eyes squeezed together tightly.
When he sees her miserable demeanor he quickly (yet shakily) abandons his own work to sit on the floor beside her.
“Seriously, MJ.”
She looks up at him with pitiful eyes, time to really sell it Michelle. She sighs, “M-My head just kinda hurts…It’s nothing.” She caps her Oscar-worthy performance with another wince before burying her head back in her folded arms.
She feels his way too warm hand on her back as he rubs it in an attempt to comfort her.
He’s still buying it.
Maybe she should get a minor in theater performance?
“You sure? This doesn’t look like nothing.” He questions hoarsely. Now that he’s closer to her she can almost hear the crackling in his chest when he breathes. She had to get him to rest now or else this shit was going to get way worse.
“I-I think I may have forgotten my pill this morning. I can’t remember. I think I was just so anxious about the exam that- I don’t know…e-everything’s so fuzzy, Peter.” She says quietly, letting out a shaky breath just like she would if her head were actually pounding.
“Oh, Emmy.” He coos. “Come on, you need to lay down.”
“But the midterm-“
“Hey, the midterm can wait. You’ve been working hard, okay? Take some time to take care of yourself.”
Practice what you preach, Parker.
“Will you lay with me?” She asks, her voice uncharacteristically small as she looks up at him, eyes still scrunched in “pain” but full of emotion. She’s laying it on thick. The things she does for this boy.
“‘Course I will, Em.”
And jackpot. He bought it. What a sucker. At least he’s pretty!
MJ does a victory dance in her head as she lets him help her stand and climb onto his unmade twin bed. She waits for him to climb in and join her, but frowns when he turns and begins to to walk away. She quickly grabs his wrist and once again dons her best pitiful sick person face.
“Stay. Please.” She “begs”, which works again (of course). Peter’s face breaks into a sad smile.
“Just turning off the lights, Emmy. I’ll be right back, I promise.” He leans over and kisses her on the forehand, and she does her best not to think of all the germs he may have actually just passed onto her. She had him in the palm of her hand, she couldn’t break the illusion now.
For the full effect, she lets out a few pained groans here and there as he turns off the ceiling and desk lights in his room, leaving them under the glow of the spidey string lights she’d bought him as a dorm-warming gift.
He’s rather sluggish as he makes his way back and up onto his bed. MJ figures he’ll be out as soon as his feverish head hits the pillow. And she’s basically right, as he lets out a huge yawn as soon as he curls up next to her.
“Get some rest, Em.” He murmurs, already taking his own advice. “‘M right here if you need me.” He snuggles closer to her with a sigh, his arm wrapping around her torso and face pressing into the side of her shoulder. Only moments later soft snores are coming from his mouth.
“You too, dork.” She responds.
Mission accomplished, MJ thinks triumphantly.