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I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.
MJ closes the book and sighs sharply. Why does every single book Betty gives her have to have something to do love or romance or whatever related crap?
She should've known better to read this. It's all Betty's fault, who had said, "C'mon, Chelley, give it go! I promise that it doesn't have anything to do with love, and here MJ is, reading the book which is literally titled 100 Love Sonnets (she hadn't seen the cover).
She's in her small apartment right now, and at a loss of what to do now. She could read one of her novels from her large bookshelf, but that would be reading it again for the hundredth time.
Her phone chirps with a notification. It's a text from Peter Parker, her roommate and one of her most valued friends.
hey mj
i'm coming back early today
not much crime out here lol
MJ rolls her eyes, but the corners of her lips quirk up. Oh, and by the way, Peter's Spider-Man.
She texts back, you better not be expecting me to cook and get take-out from delmar's then.
The phone buzzes again after a millisecond.
but ur cooking rocks
I'm not your personal chef, Parker
fine fine fine i'll get 2 subs
meet you back home then?? :)
you're such a dork
i've heard
She smiles at her phone. And the immediately stops herself. Hello, MJ? Don't you remember your promise to yourself that you absolutely cannot crush on anyone, especially your best friend? A part of her brain chides.
I'm not crushing on him, the other part replies begrudgingly. (Ha.)
The window opens after a minute and Spider-Man slips in, a bag of Delmar's take-out in his hand. MJ quickly stuffs the book away.
"Hey," he says, and pulling his mask off to reveal a disheveled Peter. His hair is tousled and his cheeks are rosy from the cold air of Queens. He smiles.
MJ's feels butterflies. But hey, that's totally normal, right? Right? Because every person would feel slightly faint at the sight of Peter's smile. It's so warm and perfect and beautiful, revealing pearly whites and dimples, and eye-crinkling and- okay, she should stop.
He's so pretty.
"Hey," she echoes, snatching that thought and stuffing it in a corner of her head because she can't currently throw it away. MJ is not attracted to Peter "The Smile" Parker in any way.
Or so she insists.
Peter tosses the mask from the living room into a laundry basket. Bulls-eye. He runs a hand through his hair.
Dammit. MJ's looks away quickly.
"Brought the goods," he says, and MJ nods.
"Cool. So how was- how was patrol? Was there really no drama and stuff?"
Peter shrugs and sits beside her, setting the bag down on the coffee table. "Not really. " He scrunches up his nose, and MJ swallows. "Well, there was one dumbass who tried to steal gas from a car."
MJ snorts. "Huh. That's gotta be one of dumbest things anyone has ever attempted."
"Exactly." Peter sighs. "I just wish I could be doing something more top-notch, y'know? Like the rest of the Avengers."
"You fought a purple alien guy in outer space. And helped to save the world. That isn't 'top-notch'?"
Peter's bottom lip is caught in his teeth. "That was only once."
"Oh, and you stopped a bird dude from stealing the Avenger's goods and destroyed a crazy fishbowl guy who tried to fool the world," MJ deadpans.
He laughs, and MJ's chest has this warm, tingling sensation. Ugh.
After they settle, and Peter's changed into sweatpants and a black Nike shirt that looks too damn tight on him, MJ's curled up on the side of the couch a biting into a delicious sub. Peter's sitting on the opposite side.
"Let's watch something," he says after a moment of eating.
"Watch what?"
"Uh... let's just, y'know what, let's just watch Harry Potter."
MJ groans, tilting her head so it leans against the backrest. "We've watched that at least five times."
"Not Prisoner of Azkaban, we've only watched that... what, three times?" Peter counters.
"Fine," MJ relents.
Peter turns the TV on and presses play.
The iconic, daunting Hedwig’s Theme plays, and the screen is dark and cloudy.
But MJ doesn’t really notice.
She glances sideways at Peter, who’s eyes are glued to the screen, popping a slice of tomato into his mouth and sucking the sauce off his fingers.
Oh, Peter’s mouth.
MJ turns back to the screen, her cheeks flaming. Did he notice? Probably not, right?
They watch Harry Potter for thirty minutes and then suddenly Peter groans.
“What?” MJ asks, startled.
“I just remembered; I still have bio homework left to do.” He scrubs a hand over his face.
“I can help you.”
What the f-
Both are shocked at the statement that just came out of MJ’s mouth.
Peter tilts his head slightly, and he looks so ridiculously CUTE. “Wait, really?”
MJ scurries to find a logical and reasonable response. “‘Cause, um, y’know. I also have an essay to revise. And, uh, you might fail. And I wouldn’t really want that.
Peter’s parted mouth curves into a small grin. “Really?”
“Yeah, you idiot, we’re friends.”
“Mm-hmm,” he says slowly, and MJ turns the TV off.
Their apartment is just a few blocks away from the uni building, and it’s small, but cozy. One bathroom, a kitchen connected to the dining and living room, and three bedrooms. And why are Peter and MJ sharing an apartment? Well, it’s a long story that involves Ned Leeds and Betty Brant wanting to share a place together.
Betty’s practically renovated the house, knowing that neither Peter nor MJ would bother too, hanging strips of fairy lights in the corners, and plaid bean bags in the living room with a fuzzy carpet in front of the TV.
MJ has to admit, she’s rather fond of the decorations.
The third bedroom is changed into a study room, composed of colorful LED lights and desks with computers on top.
MJ follows Peter to the room, her heart pounding, and she brings her book along with her, careful not to reveal the cover.
Peter dumps his green spiral homework notebook and biology textbook on his desk and sits down, flipping through the pages and tapping his pen against his chin, lost in thought.
MJ settles in her desk, and reviews the essay she’s written on her Docs for Language Arts, skimming through it and checking if there are any mistakes.
“‘A synthesized knowledge of science may have observations which can be qualitative and…,’” Peter reads aloud. “It’s deductive, right? Qualitive and deductive.”
MJ hums. “Probably.”
“‘Nissl’s granules are associated with…’…wait, what the heck is Nissl?”
MJ sighs. “Do you ever pay attention in class, Peter?”
Peter looks affronted. “Of course I have!”
MJ snorts skeptically. “Nissl substance is a reticulum of channels within neurons.”
“Ohhh, yeah, right!” Peter’s eyes light up and he scribbles something in his journal.
MJ’s done. No mistakes in grammar or spelling. (There wouldn’t be any, because Docs has autocorrect. Ha.)
She leans back in her chair and picks up her book. Nothing else to do.
A few minutes pass by.
Peter closes his notebook and says triumphantly, “I’m done! I’ll probably ace the upcoming biology exam.”
And he probably will, like the nerdy dork he is, but MJ won’t admit it any time soon. “Whatever you say, I guess.”
Peter rests his hands against MJ’s seat, peering at the page she’s reading, and MJ blushes furiously as she slams it shut and puts it facedown onto her lap.
“What?” Peter’s voice is amused. “What’re you reading that makes you so embarrassed?”
“I’m not embarrassed,” MJ replies, her face still hot. “I just don’t really appreciate people sneaking up on me.”
“Em-jay,” Peter teases, his voice light and playful. “What are you reading?”
“Shut up.”
“C’mon.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“No.”
“What if I snatch it from your room after you’ve fallen asleep?”
MJ turns her head around and glares at him. “What if I was sleeping naked?”
Peter’s eyes are blown wide and his cheeks fill up with color, his mouth parted. Shit.
“Wh-Wha- no, I- sorry, I shouldn’t have-”
MJ rolls her eyes and gets up from the chair, the book pressed between her arms and her chest. “I’m going to go to sleep. It’s eleven already.”
“Uh, okay.”
MJ reaches for the door, and right when she slips through it, she hears Peter say softly, “Good night.”
Is it just her imagination or is Peter’s voice lower than usual?
“Night,” she says back.
────────•────────
Damn, it’s fucking cold.
MJ’s heater for the room isn’t working, so she’s lying in the middle of her queen-sized bed, tangled up in her sheets and tossing and turning.
She shivers.
There’s two options; either sleep on the couch or go to Peter’s room. And she would rather die than to sleep with him for the night.
Or maybe not. Maybe sleeping with him wouldn’t be as bad…
Shut up, MJ. He doesn't want to sleep with you, stupid.
So MJ takes her pillow and blanket and gets out of her room, and settles on the small couch. She’s almost done arranging the stuff when she hears the door to Peter’s room opening.
“MJ?”
Her heart almost stops.
“Uh- y-yeah?”
And then Peter appears in the tiny hallway, wearing sweatpants yet-
Fucking shirtless.
Like, half-naked, so MJ can see his chest. And he’s jacked. As in, chiseled muscles and broad planes and six-pack type of jacked.
Ohhhh fuck.
"What are you doing?"
His voice is low and husky from sleep. He rubs his eyes.
"Uh, I'm... sleeping. On the, uh, the couch." God, it's like she can't even string two words together.
He squints in the light. "Huh?"
"My, uh, my heater broke, so, um, yeah. It's- it's really, c-cold in there so..." MJ curses herself eternally.
Peter frowns, and MJ's knees feel wobbly. "So you're sleeping on the couch?"
MJ nods. It's not like she can form words anyways, so.
"Sleep in my room."
MJ's eyes widen. "Wh-what?"
"Sleep in my room," he repeats, and she can see his cheeks dusting with pink. "Since- uh, y'know, I'm not letting you sleep on the shitty couch."
"What- what about you?" MJ asks, and her whole body feels hot. Dammit.
"We'll sleep together," Peter says, and then his eyes widen on what he said and he scrambles to explain himself. "Uh, I take that back, that was- a, um, bad choice of words. I mean, you'll have half and I'll have half. Half and half. Because that would be totally awkward if, uh-"
He's babbling now.
"Okay, okay," MJ interrupts. "Fine."
She follows him into his room.
It's warm in there.
"So, um, I'll take the left side. If that's okay," Peter mumbles.
"Right. Okay."
They both slip into the bed and the warm covers, and god, the pillow MJ's lying on smells like his hair.
She inhales. And then winces, because for sure Peter has heard it.
It smells like sparkling cider shampoo, though.
“Night,” Peter whispers into the darkness.
She can feel his warm aura, his nervous presence, and she replies quietly, "Yeah."
How can she fall asleep?
────────•────────
It's somewhere between two to three AM, and she can hear Peter's soft, even breathing. Of course he doesn't snore, the pretty boy.
MJ shifts as quietly as possible to the other side, and her breathing hitches.
His face is outlined by the soft, azure glow of the moonlight penetrating through the window, highlighted at his soft yet somewhat sharp features, from his model-worthy jawline that can cut diamonds to the hollow base of his throat.
Aaand, of course, he's still not wearing a shirt, so her gaze trails down to his chest.
Shit, she thinks for the hundredth time.
She always knew Peter was fit because of Spider-Man, but sh didn't know her best friend was built like a fucking Greek God.
She falls asleep a few minutes later, just listening to his breathing like it's a lullaby.
────────•────────
She wakes up at nine.
Peter's still sleeping peacefully. How is it fair that he looks so, so pretty?
MJ checks her phone. There's a few notifications from Betty.
Hiii Chelley <3
How's it going with Pete
She sighs, gets out of the warm, Peter-smelling bed only the slightest bit reluctantly and as quietly as possible.
She wraps a jacket around her and texts Betty back.
hey
fine
I need to tell you something
Betty texts back a few seconds later.
what's up??
I slept with Peter last night
A minute passes before Betty replies with a bunch of jumbled letters.
asdjkfjkfdglsfajskhdfka
YOU DID
WHAT
OMG
OH MY FUCKING GOD
And MJ regrets her choice of words instantly. Betty usually never curses. Shit.
ok actually bad choice of words
YOU SLEPT WITH PETER?!?!?!?!?! AGAHgdsjkd
no NO not in THAT WAY
BUT IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU <3 <3 ACKKK
MJ sighs.
No, listen
my heater broke so we shared his bed
ABSOLUTELY NOTHING ELSE HAPPENED
Aw
kk
I
Um
I think I like him? kinda
Another pause filled with tension.
OFC YOU DO
MJ
IM YOUR BFF
HONESTLY WHO WOULD NOT FALL IN LOVE WITH HIM
WHAT?
no, I have NO IDEA what you're talking about betty
tmrw. starbucks at 21 avenue. 11 am. not taking no for an answer.
Ugh
fine
see you tomorrow~
hate you
also I hate your book
I dunno what you're talking about tbh
bye <3
bye x
MJ rubs her face.
Tomorrow's gonna suck.
────────•────────
Peter wakes at nine-thirty.
He's put on a stupid science pun shirt, which is a relief, because if he is still bare-chested MJ would never be able to string two words together, and his hair is tousled.
MJ takes in the sight of his sleepy state and she looks away back to 100 Love Sonnets, making sure to cover the title with her hand.
He yawns, and then as he sees MJ on the bean bags, his face turns slightly pink. "Uh, hi."
"Hey."
"You, um, you had a good sleep?"
She chews on her bottom lip, finally lifting her gaze toward Peter's eyes. She's never noticed that the exact shade of them are gingerbread brown. "Yes, I did, actually. Thanks."
Peter does that annoyingly adorable thing when he's confused, tilting his head slightly and frowning. "For what."
"For... um, for letting me sleep in your bed. Because, my, uh. Heater broke. So, yeah." MJ curses herself.
Peter's eyes soften. "Anytime, Em."
She frantically looks for something to talk about, because this is as awkward as hell. "I think I'm gonna call an HVAC today so they'll come and fix it."
"Right. Okay. Cool."
She stands up, completely forgetting about the book, brushing past Peter, and the little contact they have makes MJ have whooping sensation like she's on a rollercoaster.
"For breakfast?" she questions, opening the fridge and browsing for something to cook.
"Anything's fine. Your cooking rocks, after all." He leans against the counter, scrutinizing every move she does.
She rolls her eyes, despite how her heart is skipping a beat, and takes out a carton of frozen hash-browns. "Ha."
After cooking, she sets down two plates of hash-browns and fried eggs. "Bon appetit. Or something."
Peter laughs.
────────•────────
It's dark already. The HVAC came in the afternoon, so MJ's AC is all fixed. (To her minor disappointment.)
And Peter's left for patrol. Therefore, MJ's in the study room, taking notes for Law, and listening to classical music.
She gets a text.
It's Peter.
MJ
i'm really sorry
i probably won't come back 2nite
Mr. Stark called me @ patrol and told me that morgan needs babysitting
and pepper has to go to a meeting and Mr. Stark has hero stuff
MJ frowns.
why you?
what do u mean??
aren't there other avengers capable of babysitting?
well the only avengers that are free are black widow and cap, but tony doesn't trust cap for some reason, and morgan's afraid of black widow
i don't really blame her to be honest
but yeah
and she loves me sooo
MJ feels a small smile growing on her face. Of course Tony Stark's daughter loves Peter. How could anyone not? She types out, what if I come? but then hurries to delete it when she accidently presses send.
Shit, she thinks to herself.
sure!!
i'll come pick u up :)
────────•────────
And now, somehow, she's swinging off on Peter's back, clutching to his suit for her dear life and screaming at the top of his lungs as she buries her head on his shoulder. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! WHAT THE F- I AM NEVER AGREEING TO THIS AGAIN!"
After a few thrillingly horrifying minutes of swinging, they land on the floor, and MJ's breathing fast. She immediately disentangles herself from him, her head spinning slightly.
"You alright?" She literally hears the grin in his voice.
"No," MJ scowls. "I am never doing this again."
Peter gives her an apologetic shrug. "Sorry."
She follows him, and her eyes widen as she takes in the Avengers Facility.
Woah.
"It really is something, isn't it?" Peter grins.
He presses the buzzer and takes his mask off.
"Hello?" a tinny voice comes through the speaker.
"Hey, uh, it's Peter. Parker. Spider-Man," Peter says.
"Peter!" MJ knows it's a woman's voice. "Hi, kid, just a second."
The modernistic high-tech glass doors open with a click, and Peter takes his mask off.
The inside is basically what MJ's expected, wide and spacious, with futuristic designs and whites and greys.
She can't believe she's in the FUCKING AVENGERS HQ.
A woman with blonde hair and smiling eyes beams as she sees Peter and hugs him, MJ hovering awkwardly in the background. "Hey, kid, how are you holding on? How's May?"
"Hi, Mrs. Potts. I'm fine. She's alright." Peter smiles charmingly at her.
Pepper Potts glances at MJ. "And who's this you've brought?"
"Hi. I'm Michelle Jones," MJ says, in a rush to introduce herself, because this is Pepper freaking Potts, a badass woman, also the wife of Iron Man.
Pepper's face breaks into a smile again. "MJ! It's so nice to finally meet you. Peter's been talking about you a lot."
Peter flushes, but Pepper doesn't seem to notice. "You go changed, Pete, and I'll show you guys to Morgan."
────────•────────
Morgan's an amazing kid.
MJ knows she would be cool, especially because she's the daughter of a billionaire genius and a badass businesswoman, but Morgan's cooler than she expected.
At the age of eight, she has the cutest face and brown hair, and when MJ first meets her, Morgan's working on some sort of hologram.
"Morgan, Peter's here," Pepper says.
Morgan immediately looks up and she grins radiantly and throws herself into Peter's arms. "Pete!" she squeals excitedly.
Peter smiles and ruffles her hair. "Hey, kiddo."
"Morgan, I'm going to go to a meeting for two hours, okay? Listen to Peter and MJ," Pepper asserts as she presses a kiss on the top of Morgan and leaves.
Morgan looks wide-eyed at MJ. And then she giggles, her hands covering her mouth.
"What?" Peter asks, confused.
"So you're MJ! Are you the girl Peter's been talking about-?" she asks, the corners of her lips pinching adorably.
Peter frantically corrects Morgan, his ears red, and putting a hand on her mouth and making MJ voice muffled. "Morgan's saying nonsense. I have not been talking about MJ so much."
"Yes, you have!"
MJ manages to give a tight lipped smile, ignoring the hotness in her face.
He's just talking about you because you're his best friend, MJ scolds herself. Don't get your hopes up.
────────•────────
"So, uh, wanna have another study sesh?" Peter asks after they've went back home. They've both changed into comfortable clothes.
MJ snorts. "Sure. Why not."
So now they're in the study room, MJ feeling slightly bored by her book and flitting her eyes to Peter.
God, he's so pretty.
His eyes dart from the textbook to his journal, and his head is lowered so a brown curl droops down from his forehead. His dorky T-shirt is hiked up slightly so it reveals- his stupid perfect six-pack, damn.
The soft glow of the lamp outlines his sharp, perfect jawline to his pretty boy features.
MJ looks back down, biting the inside of her cheek.
She's crushing so hard on Peter. A nerd. A dork. A really hot, cute, awkward, pretty guy.
"Hey, MJ?" Peter's soft voice breaks into her thoughts.
Her cheeks heat up. "What?"
"I don't really get this question."
"So?"
Peter's lips form a small, knowing grin. "C'mon, smartypants, help your friend out."
MJ sighs and stands up, because how on earth could she not? She leans behind his chair. "Which one?"
Peter gestures toward question number two. He's frowning, and it's the cutest thing she's ever seen, his brown furrowing and his bottom lip stick out just a tiny bit. God, MJ, focus on the dumb question.
"'The largest contiguous empire in history is...'" she reads aloud. Peter tilts his head backwards to gaze up at her.
"Well..." MJ coughs. God, you know this one. But in her defense, Peter's hair smells really good. "...it's the Mongol Empire, probably."
"Really?" Peter asks, biting his bottom lip. "Isn't it the Russian Empire?"
"The Russian Empire is the second largest," she says flatly.
"Ohhh, okay. Thanks, MJ!" He gives her a smile that makes her knees feel wobbly. Shit.
────────•────────
The next morning.
It's 10:38, and MJ's brushed her frizzy curls into a bun, ignoring the stubborn front strands that always spill out, and she's changed into a crimson sweater over a white collared shirt, and worn-out jeans. She's just about to swing her purse over her shoulder when-
"Morning."
She turns around, startled, to see Peter, filling a Spider-Man mug MJ bought him last Christmas as a joke with milk. He smiles slightly at her expression. "Sorry."
"Whatever. Um, I have a date with Betty, so I'm gonna be back at eleven-ish. If that's okay." She can't believe she's asking permission. What the actual heck.
It's probably because the fact that his sleep-mussed state is adorable.
There's some hints of caramel in it, MJ just realizes.
"Right. Cool. Sure." Peter lifts the mug to his lips, still looking at her, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
Peter's mouth.
"You look really pretty, by the way," Peter says, and his brown eyes are soft but somehow intense.
MJ feels her cheeks flush, and Peter's are too, but she tilts her chin. "Meaning that I have value?"
Peter smirks, and the way he smirks is unbelievable, biting the bottom of his lip and raising his eyebrows. "That's not gonna work, you know."
MJ's lips quirk up. "Anyways, I'd better head off. See you, dork."
Before she slips through the doorway, she hears him say softly, "Have fun, MJ."
Snowflakes are sprinkling against the sidewalk as MJ strolls down to the crowded downtown of Queens, white sprinkles on the stained beige. MJ opens the door to Starbucks.
The warm aroma of spices and cacao beans makes an electric current rush down MJ's spine, and a thrill of heart flows over her. She spots Betty, who's looking as cute as usual in a blue sweater vest and a beanie against her blonde hair.
Betty brightens and she gushes, "Hey, Chelley!"
MJ sighs and the corners of her lips quirk up affectionately. "Hi."
Betty wraps MJ in a hug, even though it's only been three days since they saw each other.
Michelle settles down on the cushioned seat opposite of her best friend, and Betty pushes a Starbucks mug towards her.
"Thanks," MJ says, taking a sip. It's a cappucino.
"No problem," Betty says sweetly, and she gives MJ a look that reads, "you have two seconds before I rampage you with questions myself."
Michelle sighs, setting her mug down and presses her lips together. "What do you want to know?"
"Everything."
MJ shifts slightly, her elbows pressed against the table, and explains everything as elaborately as possible.
There's a long pause with the background noises of glasses clinking and murmurs of people in the cafe before Betty asks, "How do you feel about him?"
MJ swallows and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Her face grows hot. "I already told you."
"No, you didn't," Betty quips. "Is it a crush, or are you, like, in love. There's a big difference, you know."
In love. MJ considers it. How she laughs at his stupid science puns, how she blushes when they have any physical contact, how she knows he would do anything for her to smile, and how she feels butterflies at that fact.
"I dunno."
"Well, you like him, of course," Betty determines, and then sucks the straw to her drink before continuing, "And he obviously likes you back."
MJ almost chokes on her own spit. "I- what? What? Hold on, Peter doesn't- he doesn't like me! That's- that's just ridiculous!"
Betty gives MJ a half-disbelieving, half-confused look, and when MJ doesn't that she's joking or whatever, Betty bursts into a fit of giggles.
And then she sighs, which actually takes MJ aback, because MJ's usually the one who does that. "Em, you clueless dumbass!"
"What?" MJ is shocked.
"I honestly cannot believe you, for God's sake! It's so darn obvious! That boy is over the freaking moon for you, okay? Like puppy-eyed and starstruck for you."
"But- what? Why?"
"For a sarcastic genius, you really are dumb sometimes." Betty rolls her eyes (again, MJ's taken aback and slightly offended). "Chelle, haven you seen yourself? You're beautiful, smart, kinda dark to be honest, cynical, caring, actually a sweet girl who'd do anything for her friends, amazing, cool, and I could go on for ages. Honestly, why would he not like you?"
Color flood's MJ's cheeks and she's too shocked to respond because of the sickly sweet, giddy, tingling, warm and fuzzy feeling in her body right now, along with both parts of her brain, the sober and the lovesick, screaming, HE LIKES ME BACK HE FUCKING LIKES ME BACK WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK!!!!!!!!!
"Oh," she manages to splutter out. "Oh."
Betty checks the time. "Oh gosh, it's eleven-thirty already. I gotta be back at forty since Ned is absolutely uncapable of cooking."
She only vaguely snorts hears herself snort. Like nerd like nerd.
MJ stands up along with her friend, shaking slightly as they hug again.
"Let me know when you make out with him," Betty says, flashing her a sweet grin, and winking as she walks through the door.
MJ blushes furiously and nods. "Um, right. Bye."
She trudges absentmindedly back up to her apartment, a barely drank cup of coffee in her hand and gripping the strap of her purse. Peter Parker likes her back. And then suddenly a hysterical laugh bubbles up her throat as she thinks on how fucking oblivious they've been. The poor pigeons fly away, startled. Poor Ned and Betty.
A small, cheesy, shit-eating smile she can't suppress stretches her lips and she's so happy.
Butterflies.
She opens the door to her apartment, feeling somewhat nervous yet happy kind of nervous. Which doesn't make sense at all.
Jeez, where did the cool, conceited MJ go? she thinks happily to herself.
She's surprised to see Peter bustling behind the kitchen counter, and it actually smells good.
Peter glances up from chopping something, and smiles sheepishly for the hundredth time. MJ resists the urge to just screw it all and kiss him. "Oh, hey, MJ."
The way he says her name is just so- argh. So warmly and soft and gentle and-
"Hey," she replies, hanging her bag up and taking her coat off. She plops down on the couch. Get your shit together, Jones-Watson. "You're cooking?"
"Um, yeah." He shrugs, a gesture which shouldn't be so damn adorable. "Thought I'd, uh, make something for a change? Or at least try to."
She walks over and watched him dumping a board of sliced potatoes into a boiling pot full of what looks like soup.
"That actually looks good," MJ comments. "For a guy like you." She stirs it with a ladle and brings some up to her lips to taste. She catches him swallowing.
Peter snorts.
It's maybe a little too salty, but just the right amount of pepper and spices. It's good.
"Y'know, that tastes-," she scrunches up her nose playfully, and pretends to consider. "-not all that bad."
"That's quite the compliment from you, thanks," he replies, grinning, and takes the ladle from her to try it himself.
Her heart skips a beat. Her mouth was just on it...
"Go on a date with me," she blurts out to her own horror, and Peter chokes.
"What?" Peter asks, his voice cracking. His cheeks are blooming with pink and his lovely brown eyes are wide.
MJ shakes her head, her cheeks flaming, and ignoring the ache and disappointment she felt in her chest, a horrible sensation. So Betty was wrong. She should've known, of course Peter doesn't like her in that way. He's hot and pretty and the sweetest guy ever and she's just MJ. Cynical, sarcastic, poor little Michelle Jones-Watson. "Nothing, I- I'm gonna go to my room." She says this with a little more force and coldness than she'd intended to.
"Wait," Peter calls hastily, and MJ stops in her tracks. Her eyes are burning. Ugh.
"Yeah, of course I'll go on a date with you," Peter says breathlessly, and he laughs a little. "God, I felt like I was gonna die. You didn't give me a chance to process your words, Em."
Everything comes back again, all the butterflies and the giddy-ness and the shit-eating smile.
"Oh," MJ breathes, turning to look at him again. His cheeks match hers, stained with pink. "Okay. Cool."
"Cool," Peter echoes.
"So, tomorrow, then?" she asks, trying to keep the happiness from showing in her voice.
"Right. Sure."
"Okay then."
She practically skips back to her room.
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The next morning, she debates on what to wear. God, she's never been this way. She's always never caring about what other people think about her. Oh well. It's one of the weird things that happen when you fall in love with someone.
Fall in love.
She finally resides with graphic long sleeved tee, and faded jeans, along with Doc Martens. No makeup. Never bothered to put it on. Just a bit of lip balm to keep her lips unchapped.
They meet in the living room. (Ha.)
He's looking effortlessly pretty, in a grey hoodie under a jean jacket, and corduroy pants. His hair is touseled.
"Hey," Peter says breathlessly, running a hand through the mess of curls. "You- you look really nice."
"You're not so bad either," MJ quips, despite the fact that she's trying to resist a cheesy smile, her cheeks warm for the billionth time.
They walk in a comfortable silence towards the Juniper Valley park. The air is chilly , the sky is a white-grey, and there's a blanket of thick white covering the grass.
MJ shivers. She should've worn a coat.
"Are you cold?" Peter asks, looking slightly nervous. He's so ridiculously nice.
"N-no, I'm fine."
Peter rolls his eyes and shrugs off his navy jacket, and covering it over MJ's shoulders. She instantly feels warm.
MJ inhales. His shampoo lingers everywhere, doesn't it?
Shoving her arms through the sleeves, she mumbles, "Thanks, dork."
His eyes soften, and she automatically memorizes every shade of brown in his irises. "Anything for you, MJ."
The fire in her belly rises and burns. So, she scoops up some slushy snow, balls it up, and throws it at Peter, and it splatters all over his hoodie.
She laughs hysterically as Peter Parker. the rookie Avenger, splutters at the white splat, and fixes MJ with a playful glare, his bottom lip sticking out in an illegally cute pout.
"I bet you can't aim for me since you're such a softie," MJ teases. Peter's eyes are suddenly challenging, and he grins breathtakingly, his bottom lip caught in his teeth.
"That's a bold thing to say to Spider-Man, Jones."
MJ responds by hurtling another snowball at him, but this time, he catches it with insane reflexes, and throws it back to MJ, who's laugh turns into a shriek as it hits (softly) onto her jeans. Peter grins triumphantly triumphantly, but it slips off his face when MJ throws another ball towards him, and he ducks, but not quickly enough. There's powdery snow all over his hair. Which was a mistake, because he looks even more adorable, if that's possible.
He scowls mockingly and retaliates, but MJ very nearly ducks, so it hits the bench behind her.
She's so cheerful and feeling so corny when she realizes there's a big smile on her face.
Aaaand then she trips. And falls. On Peter
Shit? is what she thinks vaguely.
He's caught off-guard, and his arms instinctively wrap around her as they tumble to the ground.
Oh great, now MJ's literally on top of him, with not even a scratch.
She's blushing furiously. "Sorry," she breathes.
A laugh bubbles out from Peter, and then she hears his breathing catch when their eyes meet.
He's so pretty as always, his hair sprinkled with white, and his stupid fucking jawline even more prominent now, glistened with melted snow.
"I really like you," she blurts out.
He blushes, and he whispers back faintly, "I really like you, too."
Butterflies.
Again.
She literally stops breathing as she feels his arms tighten around her, and she leans in. He's impossibly close, and her eyes lower to his parted lips. Peter swallows, eyes flicking from her eyes to her mouth.
She sucks in a breath, and kisses him.
And when Peter kisses her back, shit, it's like fireworks have erupted in MJ's stomach. God, who knew that Peter Parker can kiss like this? His lips slot against hers, and she bites back a sigh, her hands threading through his slightly damp curls.
They finally break apart, and she's breathless. His eyes are wide and his cheeks are dusted with pink. "Wow. That was- uh, wow." He stumbles through words.
MJ groans and rolls off him, barely noticing the cold against her back, her cheeks aching from smiling so much. "Dork."
"Your dork," he replies, and her heart preforms Olympic-worthy dangerous acrobatics in her ribcage as he laces his perfect, long fingers through hers.
She shifts her head to gaze at him, and smiles as she agrees. "My dork."
"Can you, uh, can you be my girlfriend?" His voice trails off.
She grins slyly. "I don't date younger guys."
"Except for this younger guy," he says cheekily, and sneaks another peck on her lips.
She smiles so hard that she thinks her cheeks are going to split.
"So?" he asks.
She shrugs playfully. "Mayyyy-be."
"C'mon," he whines, giving her those goddamn puppy eyes, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips. "I cross my heart that I'll be the best guy ever."
"You already are," she mutters, and tugs him forward to kiss him again.
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prologue
MJ rereads that sentence from 100 Love Sonnets with Peter, who's a little flustered at the book. "'I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.'"
"Sounds like us," Peter mumbles, and nuzzles his cheek onto her neck. "Also, should we babysit Morgan more?"
"Definitely," she replies.
She's so lucky to have this guy.
────────•────────
I made out with peter all afternoon
FINALLY FOR GOD'S SAKE!!! IM SO HAPPY <333 ;)
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Ned
dude
ummmmmm
i dunno how to say this but
mj and i are dating??
wait, what? so yall weren't dating before?
?????? WTF DO U MEAN BY THAT
oop um
nothing?
Im really happy for u dude!!! :D