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Peter’s moving around far too loudly for the hour. MJ groans into her pillow, picking up Peter’s and throwing it in his general direction. He catches it, goddamn Peter tingle. She knows a losing battle when she sees one, so sits up in bed.
She hadn’t meant to spend the night in his apartment, it just sort of happened. They were tipsy, and it was Saturday. Peter had offered to walk (or swing- which she quickly declined) her home. She had pondered, but the most logical thing was just to spend the night. It didn’t have anything to do with his fluffy hair that seemed to stick up in all the right ways after she ran her hands through it, or how warm his comforter looked compared to the snowy early January weather outside the window. Definitely not.
“Why are you awake,” She asks, hugging the comforter to her chest because, shit, it’s freezing. And early. So early.
Peter still holding the pillow, turns and looks at her. His toothbrush is hanging out of his mouth and he’s not in a shirt, something MJ can’t help but ogle at just a little bit. He throws the pillow back at her. She does not catch it, living sans tingle. “Because it’s Sunday, which means tomorrow is Monday.” He says easily as if it’s anything like an answer.
“Yes,” MJ starts, confused. “Which means we should sleep forever because tomorrow we have to wake up early.”
“And you’ll have to go back to your apartment,” Peter groans, walking back into the bathroom. She hears him turn on the sink and spit into it. When he walks back out, he grabs a t-shirt from the floor. The fact that it’s MJ’s is neither here nor there. “Which means we should have the most fun today. So let’s go, Jones! Things to do! Places to be!”
“But it’s freezing,” She tries to frown, but her face betrays her. Peter stands at the foot of the bed in his boxers and her t-shirt that spells out love yourself in rainbow lettering, and it hugs his torso and arms in just the right places. She has to look away or else she’s sure her face would set on fire. She watches as he pulls on purple sweatpants and tucks them into his socks before jumping back into bed beside her.
“I’ll make you coffee,” He says, leaning up to kiss her cheek. She can’t help the blush that paints her cheeks as she lays back down. 2 years, and he still makes her feel like she’s 17 and flying when he asks to hold her hand.
“Can you give me a sweatshirt?” She asks, wrapping the blankets tighter around her shoulders. Peter kisses her nose, then her forehead then stands up. He grabs a hoodie off the floor and throws it at her before jumping out of the room. MJ laughs to herself as she and sits back up and pulls the Columbia sweatshirt over her head. She finds her socks on the ground next to the bed and pulls them on, too, before padding into the kitchen. Peter’s dancing with himself as he makes a pot of coffee. Peter’s playlist of 70’s music plays through the house. MJ comes up behind him and hooks her chin over his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his waist. He turns and wraps his arms around her waist.
“G’morning,” She mumbles into his neck, kissing it gently. She can feel his grin in the way his whole body relaxes and hugs her tighter.
“You’re incredible,” He says earnestly, grabbing her face so she’s eye to eye with him. She kisses the corner of his mouth as toast pops. He pulls away from her gently, and MJ relocates herself to the living room, wedging herself into the corner of the couch and curling herself under a blanket. From the window to the left, she can see that it’s beginning to snow. She hates taking the subway in the snow.
“What’s on?” Peter asks through a mouthful of toast. He’s precariously balancing a plate and two mugs in his hands, and MJ is quick to grab one of the mugs from him and set it on the coffee table. He sits down behind her on the couch, placing a leg on either side of her body.
“Nothing good, really,” MJ shrugs. “You know, since you woke us up at 7:45 on a Sunday.”
Peter laughs from behind her and leans down to kiss her curls. “We can go back to bed if you really want,” He says, tracing patterns into her shoulders. MJ smiles, though she knows he can’t see her face. She reaches for the 2nd piece of toast on the plate, the one with peanut butter instead of jelly, like Peter’s. She knows there’s a joke or metaphor in there somewhere, one that Peter could make if he paid attention or she could make if it wasn’t the asscrack of dawn.
“I don’t want to,” MJ says honestly, taking a bite of toast. Peter runs his hands down his arms and she leans her head back to look up at him, and he looks back down at her.
“She's got electric boots, a mohair suit, you know I read it in a magazine!” Peter sings in her face, off-key and loud. She can’t help but laugh. His breath smells like strawberry jam and mint toothpaste. Her boyfriend makes her coffee and sings her Elton John on snowy mornings and MJ doesn’t think life gets happier.
Suddenly, Peter is standing on the couch and pulling MJ up with him. He’s jumping. Swinging his hips and singing along to Elton John. MJ wishes she could run into his room and grab her phone to take a photo of him. He looks absolutely blissful. Her heart pangs for all he’s lost, all he’s gone through that can’t be changed. She admires his resilience. Envies it, really.
“I love you,” She says, tugging him so their chests are flush against each other. It’s 8 am on a Sunday and Peter’s out of breath from dancing on the couch. MJ laughs when Peter kisses her nose, which causes Peter to place kisses all across her face, and suddenly she’s reaching under his arm to tickle him. Peter yelps like a hurt puppy, and MJ almost feels sorry for him. Almost. She chases him through the kitchen and around the couch until she’s on one side and he’s on the other. Cat and Mouse.
“You know,” MJ starts, trying to reach across the couch to grab him. “For someone who wouldn’t die if a bullet hit their shoulder, you react awfully violently to being tickled,” Peter whines and looks at the ceiling helplessly. MJ sees her chance. She dashes around the couch to get him, but Peter’s too quick. He effortlessly jumps up onto the ceiling and MJ groans.
“Unfair.” She crosses her arms, looking up at him. He’s grinning like an idiot.
“We didn’t set rules,” Peter shrugs. He begins to shift back to the floor once they’ve both given up on their little game. MJ moves back to the couch. “Wait!” Peter calls. MJ whips her head to look at him. He’s standing on the ceiling like it’s normal. MJ supposes it is, for them. “Come over here,” He says. “I want to try something.”
So she walks back over to Peter. They’re almost eye to eye in this position, except Peter’s upsidedown.
“Can I kiss you like this?” He asks. His eyes have the same look they get when he asks May for extra cash or Ned for the rest of his fries. MJ laughs. “Oh come on, Em!” Peter urges. “How many people get to kiss upside down? Can we try it, please?”
MJ rolls her eyes, but cups his cheek anyway and pecks his lips. She doesn’t intend to do anything else, but Peter does, apparently. He’s coaxing her mouth open gently, and MJ really hopes his feet stay sticky. He tastes like strawberry jam and coffee he’d had earlier.
“Now get down, idiot” She says, pecking his lips one last time for good measure as he plops to the floor.