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“You’re joking.”
“I’m not ,” Peter argues, Michelle raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “I’m serious, MJ.”
“You’re really telling me that you, you , can handle spicy food?” She asks incredulously, looking at him up and down. Peter snorts, rolling his eyes as she continues, “I’ve seen you choke on lemon water.”
“That’s because there was a seed in it,” Peter says, winking at her as they fold their clothes. Michelle squints at him as he tries–and fails– to fold his hoodie together in a way that made any kind of sense. “I’m actually really good with spicy food.”
“How?” Michelle asks, not believing him for a second. It’d been a joke between her and Ned that Peter was a human garbage disposal, eating any and everything in sight regardless of whether or not it was actually edible or not.
To Michelle's knowledge, she can’t think of a time when it involved anything remotely spicy– also vividly remembering the times where Peter seemingly choked on the amount of pepper that Flash used on one of his meals from one of their group potlucks during college.
“May used to order Thai food like, all the time, MJ,” Peter says with a laugh, completely absorbed now in the task of folding the clothes– incorrectly– Michelle watching in amusement.
“It’s supposed to go the other way,” she points out, Peter’s eyes shifting from the pants in his hands, to her and then back to the pants.
“What if this is just a new way of doing things? Ever thought about that?” He says with a wink before leaning in for a kiss, pressing a sweet one to her cheek as she laughs.
“You should be glad you’re cute.”
“The cutest,” Peter jokes as he turns his attention back to the clothes in front of them, Michelle’s mind a thousand miles away.
“Spicy food though? Really?” she asks, Peter laughing to himself as he shakes his head.
“MJ, come on. Don’t you know by now that I am very, very aware of my own shortcomings? I know what I’m capable of and what I’m not. You asked the question and I answered it. Why is this so hard to believe?”
“Because you’re–” Michelle begins then stops, Peter having been with her long enough to have immediately understood where her mind was going as he grins.
“Before you finish that sentence, remember that I am also the white boy that you decided to be with. You live with me. Remember that,” he teases, Michelle playfully rolling her eyes as she nudges him with her elbow.
“New plan, we’re breaking up. Get out,” she says without any heat to it, Peter laughing as she smiles.
“I don’t know, MJ. Maybe I should take that seriously. Here I am, telling you the truth of who I am–”
“Yeah, okay –”
“And here you are, not believing me. If I say I can handle spicy food, why can’t you trust me and believe that I can?”
“Because I’ve also seen what happens when you say you can ‘handle’ things,” she says pointedly, Peter immediately catching her meaning.
“Okay but handling Scorpion and Rhino tag teaming and something like a– a chicken wing are entirely different things,” Peter argues back, taking the last shirt from the pile.
I’m going to have to refold all of this , she thinks to herself in amusement, watching as Peter folds up her shirt in a way that’s going to absolutely leave wrinkles.
“I’m not saying I don’t believe you–”
“Kinda sounds like you’re saying that,” Peter says as he puts the incorrectly folded shirt in a pile, turning to face her as she laughs.
“I’m just saying that historically, you’re maybe not the best person to believe when it comes to situations. Especially when it comes to actually being honest with your capabilities.”
“My own girlfriend, disbelieving. I’m hurt, MJ. Hurt ,” he says with a wink and with a tone of voice that tells her that he’s anything but, leaning forward to kiss her on the lips.
Michelle laughs into it, turning her head as he starts to kiss along her neck.
“Peter, we have to finish folding clothes.”
“I know I folded them wrong,” he says against her neck, breath hot and making Michelle’s stomach flip from the way he brings his nose across, pressing another kiss at the sensitive point right between her jaw and neck, “you’re gonna want to redo them anyway.”
“So why did you keep doing it?” She asks with a laugh, turning to face him as he slowly pushes her down on the pile of clean– incorrectly– folded clothes.
“Cause then I’d have an excuse to do this,” he says with a grin, kissing her slowly as Michelle melts into it– sighing as his hands reach for her shirt, kissing down the length of her.
“Don’t try and change the subject,” she says, breathless as she stares up at the ceiling.
Peter doesn’t respond, putting his mouth to good use in another way.
It becomes something of a joke between the two of them after that.
Peter, repeatedly joking that he could handle spicy food.
Michelle, disbelieving in every sense of the word.
She took to watching him like a hawk anytime they would order out, knowing that he was aware of what she was doing, and yet seemingly refusing to try and prove her wrong.
“I don’t know, MJ,” Ned said once as they sipped their drinks, watching as Peter and Flash got into an argument about functional hierarchy of gundams. “He’s been able to eat my mom’s food without any issue all our lives.”
“Okay, yeah. Sure. But can you tell me honestly that she doesn’t just change her recipe anytime May and Peter went over?” Michelle asks, watching as Ned seems to think about that.
He purses his lips, tilting his head to the side as he thinks before saying, “You know… I can’t really tell you. I mean, it’s always good.”
“Of course,” Michelle says with a hand wave, Ned tapping a finger against his glass.
“But I don’t… actually know if she changes the spice level. I’ve never thought to ask?” Ned says, now seemingly doubting himself as Michelle nods.
“You see what I mean? Like, I know my dad changes the spice level for when we come over because of May and Peter because, well–”
“Yeah,” Ned says with a nod.
“But him saying that he can just– just handle spicy food? And never actually ordering it? I call bullshit, Leeds.”
“Well, you know what we could always do,” Ned says with another head tilt, holding his drink with both hands.
“Dare him to do it in front of Flash?” She asks with a smirk, Ned laughing as they both look over to the two of them– still deep in their argument, Michelle laughing to herself from how animated Peter was getting about it.
“Or just finally make him put up or shut up,” Michelle says, shrugging as she brings her drink to her lips.
“Think he’s just avoiding it now on purpose,” Ned jokes, taking a sip of his own drink as Michelle swallows down her own– bringing her drink back down on the countertop.
Her eyes are on Peter, catching him as he glances over to her and smiles– winking once more before he goes back to arguing with Flash, a confirmation that he not only could hear what her and Ned were talking about but was absolutely doing it on purpose.
Michelle smirks, a plan formulating in her mind.
You’re on .
“What’s this I hear about a bet?” Tony Stark asks as Michelle lifts her attention up from her sketchbook, the quiet of the lakehouse giving her the kind of time and space that she needed to complete her studio art final.
In the abstract at least, considering Tony Stark’s penchant for putting his nose into business where it doesn’t belong.
“There’s no bet,” Michelle can hear Peter say from across the room, smirking as she looks between Tony and Peter– trailing behind him with a sheen of grease across his cheek.
“What the hell are you two doing?” She asks incredulously, watching in amusement as Tony and Peter share a look.
“Nothing. What are you doing? Don’t worry about it,” Peter says a little too quickly, Michelle making a mental note to ask FRIDAY just what they were getting into later. “And don’t listen to him either.”
Peter nudges at Tony’s shoulder, glaring at him which just makes Michelle more intrigued– putting her pencil down and looking at Tony expectantly.
“I don’t mean to get into any kind of lover’s quarrel–”
“Yes you do,” Peter grumbles under his breath, Michelle letting out a huff of laughter as Tony rolls his eyes.
“But I hear from this one over here that you’ve got a little friendly wager going on,” he says, wiping his hands on his jeans as Michelle’s gaze shifts between the two of them.
“Not a wager or a bet. I just don’t believe him,” Michelle says, raising an eyebrow and looking back to Peter.
“You see what I mean? Mistrust, from my own girlfriend,” Peter says with a dramatic sigh, Tony rolling his eyes again as he looks back to Michelle.
“For what it’s worth, I’ve never seen him eat anything spicier than a German hot dog,” Tony explains, Michelle laughing at Peter’s squawks in the background.
“Tony!”
“What?” Tony exclaims, looking back to Peter. “You’re seemingly committed to this lie you’ve concocted in your head. Might as well tell it like it is.”
“Why does no one believe me?” Peter asks tiredly, Michelle hearing the scuffling of feet up above her– a signal that Morgan and Pepper were likely on their way down.
“I’d believe you if you ever actually showed any proof and Pete,” Michelle says, giving him a look before picking her pencil back up, “there’s never been any.”
“I don’t have to prove anything to any of you,” Peter says dismissively, something that just makes Tony and Michelle laugh.
“Okay kid, whatever you say.”
“I don’t !”
“Yeah, yeah, I believe you,” Tony jokes, winking at Michelle before he goes to stand– wrangling Peter into the kitchen.
Michelle looks up, seeing the mischievous look in Peter’s eyes.
He’s going down , she thinks as she smiles– turning her attention back to the sketch in her hand and to the plan that she’s been thinking about for weeks now.
“You know,” Peter says, staring at the set up in front of him. “I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this.”
“You said you liked spicy food,” Michelle says as she opens up another carton, feeling Peter’s eyes on her. “We’re done with finals. You don’t have to be anywhere tomorrow. It’s now or never.”
She pauses, looking back to him. “Unless you don’t want to.”
“Oh I want to,” Peter says, smirking as his eyes travel over the array of food that’s in front of him. “Ever since Tony heard, he hasn’t shut up about it.”
“Your fault for bringing it up,” she says as she smirks and grabs the grocery bag that she also bought– taking out even more things that makes Peter laugh.
“What?” She asks, as she lays out the Pepto Bismol and variety of milks that she brought out– Peter chuckling to himself as his gaze shifts from the stuff and back up to her.
“You really don’t believe me, huh?” He asks, Michelle giving him a look.
“No, I don’t. And you’ve said you’re okay with all of this,” she says, waving a hand out to all the food that’s in front of him. “But I’m also not going to have you suffering or whatever so,” she picks up some Pepto Bismol. “The minute it gets too much, you’re taking shots of this.”
“I won’t need it,” Peter argues, grabbing some chopsticks. “But good to know you’re looking out for me.”
Michelle laughs, rethinking now the wisdom of this decision– despite how much planning has gone into it.
Michelle doesn’t believe him– the longevity of the bet lasting as long as it has becoming something of an inside joke for everyone in their inner circle. The idea of surprising him with spicy food seemed cruel at best, thinking that if there was any situation where they were going to prove herself right once and for all– it was going to be on equal terms.
Those equal terms being Peter, fully aware and cognizant of what was going on, eating as much spicy food as he could handle.
The conflicting aromas of the food in front of her– from a mixture of the usual Thai, Indian and Chinese places that they usually went to, with the caveat of getting their usual orders at the spiciest level that they offered– made her stomach twist.
Whether that was from anticipation or anxiety of how stubborn her boyfriend actually is, Michelle didn’t know.
“Okay, I’m going to ask you one more time, just to be sure,” she says, Peter laughing as Michelle begins.
“MJ–”
“You don’t have to do this,” she says affirmatively, Peter sobering up a little and smiling at her as he meets her eyes.
“You don’t believe me.”
“No,” Michelle says, not bothering to lie but caring more for him than any kind of stupid bet, “but that’s not worth you destroying your digestive system.”
Peter smiles again, a love in his eyes that makes her feel at home– right when it shifts to mischief as he says, “The only thing that’s gonna be destroyed is your ego.”
“Bullshit, let’s go,” she says with a laugh, sitting down in front of him as Peter laughs– twirling a chopstick in his hands.
“Which one should I go for first?”
“Whichever you want. It’s your funeral,” she says, smirking as Peter seems to contemplate his options.
He makes a show of it, totally showing off for the audience of one– before taking a piece of pork and popping it into his mouth.
Michelle watches, waiting for any kind of signal or sign– that he’s about to break or maybe break into a sweat– only for Peter to chew his food and then swallow it down.
“Is that new? I like that,” Peter says nonchalantly, picking out some more food.
The next twenty minutes are– to put it bluntly– some of the most surprising of her life. It had been a feature of her life with Peter Parker to know to expect the unexpected.
Seeing Peter demolish a variety of the spiciest, hottest food that even she wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole while barely breaking a sweat ranked now right at the top of the list.
Michelle watches in complete disbelief, hand still hovering towards the milk or the Pepto Bismol, as Peter devours everything that’s in front of him– complete with running commentary and joking along with her as if it was any other kind of meal.
Michelle offers him milk, water, anything to help him before eventually stopping– watching in total amazement as he seems to not need it at all. He doesn’t even seem to break a sweat, Michelle completely taken aback at how much he’s able to handle without seemingly having any problem.
“How are you doing this?” She asks, Peter snickering to himself as he finishes off some pork vindaloo.
“I told you, MJ,” he says before popping into his mouth, Michelle feeling the shock on her face as he chews then swallows. “I like spicy food.”
“But– this– Peter …”
She trails off, looking at the empty food containers in front of them and feeling, for the first time in her life, speechless.
“I know I don’t look it,” Peter says as sighs, sitting back in his chair and seemingly being full. “But I can handle it.”
“It’s not just that–” Michelle is quick to say only to stop herself– not quick enough since Peter seems to perk up at that.
“Wait… why did you think that I couldn’t handle all of this?”
Michelle chews the inside of her cheek, debating within herself if she wants to say the truth before finally admitting, “I read that spiders get irritated with cayenne pepper.”
A beat.
Peter blinks at her, once, twice before bursting out laughing– Michelle joining him despite herself.
“You’re joking ,” Peter says with a laugh, loud and boisterous and making Michelle feel giddy from the inside out.
“I’m not,” she says with a grin.
“All this, for weeks ,” Peter says, tears in his eyes not from the spicy food but from laughing so hard– grabbing his napkin and wiping them away, “because of spiders ?”
Michelle grins, shrugging her shoulders.
“What do you think, Spider- Man ?”
Peter laughs and laughs and laughs.
Michelle can’t help but join him.