Work Text:
MJ sees around a dozen, if not more, on her average day at her two-bit crappy coffee shop job. She hardly recognises them, if they come in more than once a week. She does, however, remember a brown-haired, brown doe-eyed boy, around her age who orders the same thing every time. Their conversations start: "Hello Mr Parker Peter, will it be the usual again?" An inside joke they share. Peter laughed. "You know me so well Michelle." Then he takes his black coffee, sits by the window, and stares out onto the street.
~1: Black Dhalia~
MJ didn't like to brand herself as a gruesome person. If only for the reason that it put people off of getting drinks at the cafe, then for personal reasons.
She wasn't a gruesome person. She just liked gruesome stories and myths. One of her favourites ever was The Black Dahlia.
The story goes: On the morning of January 15, 1947, a mother taking her child for a walk in a Los Angeles neighbourhood stumbled upon a gruesome sight: the body of a young naked woman sliced clean in half at the waist.
The body was just a few feet from the sidewalk and posed in such a way that the mother reportedly thought it was a mannequin at first glance. Despite the extensive mutilation and cuts on the body, there wasn’t a drop of blood at the scene, indicating that the young woman had been killed elsewhere. The ensuing investigation was led by the L.A. Police Department. The FBI was asked to help, and it quickly identified the body—just 56 minutes, in fact, after getting blurred fingerprints via “Soundphoto” (a primitive fax machine used by news services) from Los Angeles.
The young woman turned out to be a 22-year-old Hollywood hopeful named Elizabeth Short—later dubbed the “Black Dahlia” by the press for her rumoured penchant for sheer black clothes and the Blue Dahlia movie out at that time.
The fact that so much time had passed since she was tragically killed, her killer is most likely dead now, and actually got away with murder. Nobody ever found out who they were, and never will. She was killed 75 years ago, and it's very unlikely that the murderer is still alive.
But because of her fond love for this particular case (again, not a gruesome person) she had her Black Dahlia necklace around her neck all day, every day. MJ could never really remember where she got it from, or who she got it from, but there was a faint... something... in the back of her mind of somebody handing it to her, a sweaty large man saying somebody had gifted it to her.
But aside from that, very few people knew about the Black Dahlia legend in as much detail as MJ did... not even Ned. Save for one customer. The customer who came in every single day without fail and ordered the same black coffee each time.
"Hey Peter, the usual again?" She asked, already grabbing his pink icing ringed doughnut. He chuckled from behind the counter. "Yup," She pressed the command into the coffee machine and stood awkwardly waiting for the ancient thing to fill the cup up. When she turned around to hand him the fresh (and quite frankly gross) drink, he nodded to her necklace. "The Black Dahlia," He said. MJ grabbed it in between her fingers. "Yeah, how'd you know?" She asked. He shrugged, "An old friend of mine was really into it," She smiled a little, feeling her heart go a little bit fuzzy. "They must be an interesting person to be around," She smiled at him. He snorted, "For lack of better words, she was," MJ frowned a little. "Was?" She asked. Peter "mm-hmm" ed with a mouth full of coffee. He swallowed and MJ winced.
It had only just come from the machine, how hot was that? "Yeah, we just don't speak anymore... kinda drifted apart, which sucks," MJ scrunched her nose, "Well, if you drifted apart, then she wasn't a good friend then. Good friends shouldn't drift," He shrugged his shoulder in an "oh well" gesture.
"What happened to your necklace by the way? I don't think it should have cracks and splits in it," He asked. MJ fumbled for words for a moment, taken off guard by the sudden change in conversation. Peter's eyes widened and he began to stutter, "If uh if you don't mind me asking?" She shook her head, "No, it's fine. I um... I don't know. I remember some sweaty old guy handing it to me saying somebody had bought it for me, but it was broken. I remember sitting with whoever gave it to me and glueing it together," Upon closer inspection at Peter's eyes, MJ realised with a start they were shiny... as if he wanted to cry. "You good there Parker? A bit too hot for ya?" She teased, wiping down the surface. He chuckled and shook his head. "You guys drift apart as well?" He asked. With a frown, MJ tried to answer... but she couldn't. "Um... to be honest, I can't remember anything..." She frowned.
Peter waved his hand, "It's no worry, I was just being nosy. Anyway, you have a good one, I've gotta study at the library," And he left.
~2: Library injuries and café Deja Vu's~
The next time Peter came in, MJ instantly thought about calling someone... a doctor or whoever deals with injuries.
He'd last come in on Monday and didn't come back until Friday... looking far worse for wear.
MJ had been busy refilling the coffee pots and restacking some of the chewing gums when the door had slammed open with the bell chiming as it usually does. Cue Ned (her best friend) gasping loudly and stuttering out Peter's name. As he came up to her desk, MJ noticed his black eye, split lip and slight graze on his cheek. "What the hell happened to you, Parker!?" She asked, reaching for some bandaids. He shrugged with a small smirk, which vanished with a wince as it pulled on the split. "Ya gotta love muggers," He joked, ordering his usual black coffee and some of the bandaids. "Wait, when the hell did you get mugged?" Ned asked from his table. Peter turned to face him, and MJ noticed, with an arm around his ribs. "Monday night, I only felt like I wasn't dying this morning, so I came to get my usual." MJ pushed the cup over. "Thanks," He said. He limped over to one of the lower to the ground tables with a whine and a harsh exhale of breath. Had MJ not been paying full attention, she wouldn't have heard.
Something about this felt very Deja Vu-y to her. She couldn't place her finger on it, but MJ was so very sure that she'd been in this situation before... or of one very similar.
The boy, MJ knew that much, was whimpering softly in the library. MJ didn't approach him, instead chose to watch from nearby. His arm was wrapped tightly around his abdomen, and the other massaged his head. She watched with concern and nearly offered some of her migraine pain killers when a larger boy placed a hand on the other's shoulder. Ned. MJ realised with a shock. Ned picked up the other boy's bag and helped him out of the library.
MJ had no idea how long she was daydreaming for, but when she finally came to, Peter was shakily lifting himself from the chair. He usually stayed for at least an hour, if not 2 or more. He limped out, arm still around his ribs, left foot slightly behind as if it was broken. "Same thing tomorrow?" She called. Peter turned back with a frown and wince. "Huh?" He asked. MJ cleared her throat. "Same drink tomorrow?" She asked again. Peter smiled as best as he could with the split. "Sure thing,"
~3: Sensory overload and Deja Vu~
When MJ came in for her shift, Ned was already there watching the Rise of Skywalker, the newest Star Wars film, and so was her regular, Peter. Except, today, he was tucked into the furthest corner away from everyone, not speaking. He had his usual black coffee and remnants of his pink icing doughnut, but was staring intently at a book and jotting down stuff on a notepad. MJ, for some reason, made a mental note to keep an eye on him. Something felt very off, like something bad was going to happen. She mouthed to Ned to come over. "Is it me, or is there an awkward air around him today?" She mumbled. Now, it may have only been a trick of her mind, but she swore Peter flinched as if she'd struck him. Ned shrugged. "I have no idea, he was already here before me today," MJ frowned, "Hasn't he moved then?" Again, her friend shrugged. "I dunno. He's not taken his eyes off of his books if that's what you're asking." MJ sighed and shook her head, "Go back to your nerdy stuff now Neddy, I need to work." Ned mimicked her but continued watching Rey and Kylo Ren fight.
What? Sure, MJ liked gruesome murder mysteries, but Rey was hot and cool.
She decided, that after another hour of Peter not moving from his table, to get him a black coffee in the house. Again, while she was making the drink, she noticed him flinch as if she'd thrown the damn stone age machine at him. She grabbed the cup, pressed the lid on and walked it over to his table. When he didn't lift his head from the books, MJ gently placed it down and tapped on the table. Peter flinched and looked up, squinting. "You good there Peter? You're not looking so hot," She commented with a frown. "Um... yeah I'm um... fine... thanks," He replied, looking back down. MJ didn't like it, but she left for behind the counter again anyway.
Until she heard soft crying around ten minutes later. Save for Ned and BB8, the shop was empty, which left only one person left. MJ instantly walked over, part of it being her job, part of it being she felt obligated to. She flicked Ned's ear as she walked by, prompting the other boy to follow.
"Peter? You ok?" She asked quietly. He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. "Do you get migraines?" She asked. Peter shook his head again. He brought his hands up to his temples and pushed on them. MJ turned to Ned, "I don't know what to do, Ned." The older boy frowned before clicking his fingers. "Ya know Lea is autistic?" He asked. Had the situation not been so foreign to her, MJ would have snorted. "Yeah," She replied. "Well, when she's overwhelmed, sometimes she has meltdowns. They're basically really really bad sensory overloads," MJ stared, not quite following. "They are??" She asked, feeling more concern for her regular as he whined quietly, pressing his hands onto his ears and almost folding in half. "Essentially, everything is turned up to 11. The lights are too bright, the sounds are too loud, the colours are too bright, the smells are too strong. Usually, she pukes as well, which I'm really hoping he doesn't do," MJ nodded slowly. "And how do you deal with them?" She asked.
Unfortunately, before anyone could say anything else, Peter leant over and threw up on the floor that MJ had only cleaned at the start of her shift. Ned jumped back with a squeak, while MJ darted to grab the cleaning bucket. Thankfully, he'd stopped until he saw the bucket and continued throwing up... a lot. MJ debated calling 911 at just how pale he'd gone in a matter of seconds. He dropped his head back on the table, tears streaming down his face. "Ned?" MJ asked. She turned to look at him.
Ned was rummaging in his bag. "Everyone in the family has an eye mask and a pair of headphones for her in case she has an episode while we're out. Maybe these will help?" He said, grabbing a black eye mask and thick headphones out. He handed the headphones to MJ and placed the eye mask on Peter's head. She could see he relaxed a little, but when she placed the headphones on, he practically deflated. "Sensory overload," Ned confirmed. "Lea is the same,"
The pair stood in awkward silence for a moment before Ned spoke up: "I'll grab the mop,"
And suddenly, MJ was thrown into a memory.
She was helping somebody in the bathroom. They were vomiting, and crying at the same time. She couldn't identify who, or any voices, but she vividly remembers stroking their back and pressing a damp cloth to their very hot head. She remembers placing some... like... industrial headphones on and an eye mask. She had to catch whoever it was she was helping, as they dropped like their strings had been cut. She held this person until Ned arrived and helped her carry them to her bed, where they put them on the bed and turned out the bedroom lights.
"I'm sorry," A slurring voice snapped her back to reality. "Hmm?" She replied. She caught sight of Peter's hand waving in no particular area, his eyes still covered by the eye mask. "Um... I think I puked and I'm so sorry," He mumbled. MJ shook her head, then remembered that he couldn't see her. "It's fine, honestly. Ironically, I've had to deal with lots of puke in this cafe, you're not the first, and I doubt you'll be the last." Peter huffed out a laugh, and for some reason, MJ found it attractive. BAD MJ.
"I promise I won't do it again," He smiled a little, still not seeing her. MJ smiled as well, knowing full well he couldn't see her. "It's no problem, honestly." She stood there for a moment. "Do you live nearby? I can get Ned to help you home?" She offered. "I would as well, but I'm not allowed to leave until my shift is over in two hours,"
Peter hesitated, and MJ could see it in his shoulders. "Um... I think I'll wait until the world isn't spinning and I feel like I'm gonna die," MJ snorted. "Ok loser,"
And MJ almost fell over with the familiarity of the word that hit her like a truck.
~4: Boot casts and Decathalon~
MJ liked to think she and her regular, Peter, were friends. He came in often enough, almost daily, and always sat near with Ned. Sure, he didn’t always speak to her, but he was nearby.
Especially after their bonding on the Black Dahlia, his (more than likely) broken ribs and his sensory overload a few weeks ago. And there was something... something compelling about him. MJ could tell she knew him, but she could never work it out. Sometimes, the way he glanced at her from under his curly hair made her heart flutter, or when he snorted over his coffee and inhaled some through his nose, or even when he silently studied for his GED in the back of the cafe, not speaking to anyone.
And, as such, when he stumbled in on crutches with a boot cast on, MJ worried. "What's happened to you this time? Mugged again?" She asked nonchalantly. Peter laughed. "No, just some evil stairs." MJ raised an eyebrow. "You tripped down some stairs?" She asked. Peter scrunched his nose and shook his hand. "Kinda. I fell up them initially, then fell back down them." MJ ooohed. "Sounds painful," She hissed. "Yup, t'was. Especially since I can't have painkillers." Clearly, upon realising what he'd said, Peter's eyes widened. "What do you mean you can't have painkillers? You allergic or something?" She asked, cleaning a cup dry. Peter nodded. "Yeah, it's... I don't even know, I'm just really sensitive to certain easy to get painkillers. So I just don't use them," MJ frowned. "Any?" He shook his head. "Nope. The pain and anaphylactic shock that'd follow would be far worse. I once had an anaphylactic shock from Paracetamol and it was horrific. I like... had a seizure and everything,"
As he limped away, MJ carrying his usual from behind, she was suddenly thrown into another memory.
"Ned, where is he? He's late again," MJ could be heard moaning. "Coming, you'll see. He literally got out of bed for this today, so be nice." Ned warned. MJ frowned, "What?" She asked. She probably asked a bit harsher than she needed to, as Ned stared wide-eyed. MJ took in a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I'm just stressed about this decathlon... it's one of the most important ones, Ned." She apologised. Ned smiled, "Don't worry man. You're a cool captain and we haven't lost yet." The two stood in silence outside of the meeting area for a bit. "Ned, I'm gonna have to head in and quiz the others. Just come in when he gets here, if he gets here before Christmas," MJ didn't wait for any excuses, and headed inside.
Around ten minutes later, the door was abruptly pushed open, forcing through a blast of crisp October air. Somebody... MJ couldn't tell who, but somebody was limping on crutches with his left foot in a boot cast. "What the hell happened to you?" She asked from the table. "Oh, ya know... stairs are my worst enemy," The guy joked, wincing as he limped over. He dropped into his chair with a painfilled sigh. "Thanks, man," He said to Ned, grabbing his backpack. "You good? You need any killers?" MJ asked quietly. The guy shook his head, "They don't work on me," And MJ continued bullying and quizzing the other members of acadec.
"Huh?" She asked. MJ was distantly aware that Peter was staring at her. "I asked if you were ok... you kinda spaced out there," He asked in concern. MJ put his black coffee down. "Yeah, just tired. Hollar if you need anything," She called as she made her way back to the counter.
As she was cleaning, a sharp pain shot through her head. Something about Peter was very very familiar.
And she was gonna work it out.
~5: Hot memories and vanilla scents~ *Lil lemony*
MJ was feeling a little airy that day anyway, so it was no surprise when she was thrown into another memory when her regular walked by. This was one of the times he didn't say anything and opted to sit in the corner studying for his GED. As he walked by (with his goddamn heart-melting smile) the scent of vanilla wafted into MJ's senses, throwing her into another memory.
MJ was sitting on somebody's bed. She remembered the strong smell of vanilla and aftershave, so it was a boy's room. She could vaguely hear a shower running, then turning off. "I missed you today." The mystery boy said, sitting down. MJ couldn't identify his face, but they clearly knew each other well, as he'd only just walked out of the bathroom, clad in a fluffy towel, and she was fine with it. "Where were you before lunch?" He asked when memory MJ didn't respond. "I um... just doing some acadec planning," She responded sheepishly. MJ felt 2 fingers lift her chin, and she lifted her head. She stared into Mystery boy's eyes, that was staring back. They drifted down to her lips then back up again. He began leaning in, and so did she. MJ closed her eyes and felt hot, but clean, breath hit her face.
Then, she felt soft lips. She leaned in, putting one hand on his chest, while his hand went onto her cheek and his other around her waist. Suddenly, MJ was pulled forwards and onto her side. She squeaked in surprise and felt Mystery boy's lips tighten. MJ opened her eyes and saw him smiling. She did too. MJ closed her eyes again and felt the bed shift. His elbows were on either side of her now, keeping him upright over MJ's body to passionately kiss her. She wrapped her legs around his torso and jerked to the left, both of them falling on their sides, laughing. MJ and Mystery boy both pulled away and smiled. He put his nose to MJ's, a gesture that she knew was familiar. "We should do that again sometime. I love you so much, MJ."
"I love you too P-" and the memory cut out before she could hear who it was.
~The time she remembered: Spiderman comes in for help~ *TW: guns and shooting*
MJ was a Spider-Man supporter. She liked how he helped the local guys, and occasionally beat the really big baddies. Usually, it was some thug that wanted to rob jewellery, or a homeless person after money, or even somebody who just wanted to hurt others.
But when it was happening to her, MJ suddenly held very high doubts about the superhero. A man in a black hoodie and sunglasses on had walked in, not addressing anyone, or looking at anything. MJ instantly marked him down as a suspicious person. She passed a note in the form of a tissue to her co-worker, a very muscly 6 foot tall 27-year-old, and he nodded.
She continued serving the steady flow of customers, smiling when her regular walked in... well... stumbled in, but at this point, the occasional stumble didn't faze her anymore. Well, it did, but it wasn't a horrific shock anymore. MJ highly suspected he was being abused, but she couldn't actually approach him with her theory just yet. Sure, the bruises and occasional limp was a massive indicator of it, whenever she tried movements that would ordinarily trigger someone, he wasn't bothered. There was one person, near the start of her job, who flinched and had a panic attack when MJ dropped a cup of hot chocolate on the floor next to them.
A perfect example.
MJ handed Peter his doughnut and hot coffee with their trademark sarcastic greeting of:
"Miss me again loser?" Cue his snort, "Nope, but I do miss the doughnut,"
MJ watched as Peter hovered for a minute, looking for a place to sit. His gaze landed on the suspicious man MJ spotted minutes earlier. He frowned but didn't say anything. Instead, he sat near the front this time, opting to gaze out of the window onto the streets with a deep frown. It was as if he was waiting for something to happen. Maybe he picked up on the sketchy vibes as well.
Her theory was only confirmed when she came back from the bathroom and felt cold metal on her neck. She swallowed, terrified. "Now," the sketchy man from earlier growled, "You are gonna get me all the cash outta here. Or imma decorate the place with your blood. Clear?" MJ felt too scared to move. The gun was pushed harder into her neck. "Now," He growled. MJ moved robotically, steadily walking to the checkout machine. The man stayed in the shadows, the gun shining in the light. MJ pressed the button open.
Whether it was a sudden hunch or whether it was just luck, when the machine pinged open, MJ watched as her usual lift his head and frown in her direction. MJ tried her very best to convey her message. While sifting through the till to make herself look busy, she darted her eyes left and back at Peter. He followed her gaze, his frown never leaving his face. Then, he stood up and walked over. "Play along," He mumbled quietly. "Is it possible for me to have another coffee? This one is bitter and cold," He asked. MJ caught on quickly. "Um... sure, I just need to pop on back to grab the beans then."
She grabbed his cup and walked off to the back. "What the fuck are you doing? Get the money," The robber hissed in her face. "I need to sort my customer out, or he'll get suspicious and call the police," MJ retorted calmly. The robber grit his teeth. "Hurry up then, I'm getting impatient."
"Is my coffee done yet?" Peter yelled. MJ was surprised to hear the frustrated tone in his voice. Maybe he should go into acting.
"Um yeah, just pressing the beans down!" That was the code sentence she'd established with her other coworker earlier in the day. She caught his head rise from where he was cleaning down a table. Mark (her coworker) put the cloth down and walk over to the back. "Michelle, a customer is waiting!" He called, sliding under the counter.
MJ felt the gun press into her head. "Whoa, what's going on here?" Mark asked. He held his hands up in surrender. "I want the money, this doesn't concern you, pretty boy." The robber hissed. "It kinda does, seeing as you've got a gun held up to my coworker," Mark argued.
The man fired.
The shot rang loudly in MJ's ears, and Mark hit the ground with a loud thump. The customers that were in the shop screamed and ran out, the bell on the door ringing frantically as it was pushed open again and again.
Then, someone shot out from over the machine and shot a web?
Spider-Man, MJ realised with a shock. She was dropped from her hold onto the floor. Her hands landed in something wet, but she chose not to look, if only for her own mental sanity. She tried to crawl away, but somebody grabbed her foot. MJ screamed and kicked back. The robber swore at her and tried to grab her ankle again.
"Oh no, you don't!" Spider-Man shouted. "Yoink!" He yelled and the grip on MJ's foot was abruptly taken away. She stood up on shaky legs. Another shot rang out. MJ yelled and ducked down, covering her head. Another strangled yell followed, and she prayed that it was the robber. A loud thump shook her to the core.
The cafe was silent.
MJ forced herself to look around. Mark was dead on the floor, (if the discolouration of the once white tiles was anything to go by) the gun the robber had tried to use was near the fridge, and he was out cold on the floor, tied down by webs.
"MJ? You ok?" Somebody asked her. MJ didn't... couldn't say anything. She let the mystery person lead her into the stock room and sit her down. Their hands touched her face, asking if she could answer. Was she hurt? Did she bang her head? Did he hurt her?
MJ shook her head. "No... no, I'm fine," She answered hoarsely. MJ forced herself back to the present and stared into the familiar chocolate brown eyes of her regular. "So... you're Spider-Man?" She asked.
Then, as if she hadn't just been terrorized within an inch of her life, her head exploded in pain.
Memories rushed by.
Makeouts in her bedroom, in the boys bedroom.
Joking in Venice.
Helping beat a bad guy in London.
The Black Dahlia necklace being given to her.
Washington.
The statue of Liberty.
Spider-Man.
Peter.
"MJ, shit, are you ok??" She felt lightheaded. "MJ answer me," She looked into his eyes. "Yeah... I'm ok," Peter's hands hovered near her cheeks, and MJ wanted nothing more than for him to touch her... to hold her. "Are you sure?" He asked again. MJ decided to act on her feelings. She leant in and kissed him. She felt him feeling surprised, but he didn't pull away. When MJ pulled back, Peter was staring at her. "Um... I remember," She breathlessly spoke. Peter's eyes widened. "You weren't supposed to, I should have stayed away, damn it!" He exclaimed, frustrated. MJ frowned. "I thought you'd be safer if you didn't know me," He whispered. "You grieved May alone, Pete. You spent Christmas alone. You need someone in your corner," MJ gently spoke. She saw how he flinched when she mentioned May. "Plus, who's gonna patch you up when you get stabbed or fix your dislocated shoulder?" She teased. Peter huffed a laugh. "That reminds me, I think I was shot,"
And MJ never felt more comfortable.