Work Text:
The first time Peter Parker was hospitalized from injuries he’d sustained at his “night job”, he’d been 18. Nights were quick and the days were long as he fumbled his way through the first semester of college before deciding to drop out completely. The pizza shops, bodegas, and neighborhood cats were intimately acquainted with his wealth of time and lack of money. In the beginning, he’d bounced between jobs, 24 hour eateries that put up with his tardiness and horrible habit of missing busy work shifts and showing up whenever it worked for him. So there were risks and sleepless nights and an outright provocation and desire to go up against something that would brighten any part of the daily doldrum that was his life. It didn’t take long before the trouble he’d courted greeted him at his metaphorical front door.
When he woke, it was Aunt May’s wet eyes that met his gaze. He knew she was there. He could hear the way she choked over prayers from her childhood that promised piousness in exchange for the protection of her son. Whether they listened or not, Peter opened his eyes three days after being slammed into concrete so hard that his brain shut down to focus on healing him quicker. He let out a sigh that punished him with stabbing pains in his ribs. Then he promised he’d be more careful. Promised that he’d reenroll at ESU. Swore that it wouldn’t happen again. He meant those words. And yet, it only took one instance of public resilience to bring out the craziest of villains who all wanted a chance in the ring with Spider-Man.
Peter was careful but he ended up in someone’s medical care more often than he should have and ten times more than he ever told Aunt May. Things changed as he got older and slower. His back ached and he stopped going in for the big shots. Still, a decade later, he found himself opening his eyes to florescent lights and the smell of disinfectant.
MJ was with him this time. Her auburn hair pulled back in a bundle of messy curls. Peter knew from one look at her that she hadn’t spend her days crying over him like May. It might’ve been worse than that. Her face was drawn like she wanted to and couldn’t. Maybe she wanted to and wouldn’t.
“Hi.” Peter croaked, feeling the way his tongue heaved with effort to make way for the greeting he could barely breathe out. “I’m sorry.”
MJ shook her head, blinking three times in quick succession before pulling in a deep breath and rolling her eyes towards his.
“Don’t apologize for someone trying to kill you.” Her voice was thin and quiet like she’d been trying to whisper. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“How long have I been out?” Peter lifted his hand from the bed in an effort to summon her closer.
He let out a puff of frustration at how little he could move it. MJ knew what he wanted and came to sit at the edge of his bed, wrapping his cold hand in both of her warm ones. As his vision cleared, he realized they were in a hotel.
“Not long, it’s Thursday.” Peter turned his head so quickly a whimper escaped from between his lips before he could register the pain in his neck. “You hit you head. That’s why the lights are off. They’re worried about the side effects of a concussion.”
“I feel fine.”
“You have the strongest pain killer in the world being poured into your veins.” MJ retorted, her tone dry and matter of fact.
“Your premiere is tonight. I was supposed to go. It’s your first premiere.”
MJ turned the hand she was holding and intertwined their fingers, shrugging as she watched him watch her. “It’s important to you and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for worrying you and really sorry that I’m can’t be there.”
“I know you didn’t mean to…and even if you can’t be there, you can still watch…and I’ll know you’re watching.”
Peter’s lip barely parted to speak when the door creaked open and a head popped in. Nikki. MJ’s right hand and publicist, a new addition to the team to mix up some of the old blood. MJ brought her in after her career started to stagnate and Peter’s protests that she was doing just fine were met with annoyed stares and a reiteration of why Nikki was necessary. The Brooklyn native knew everything there was to know about New York and used it to her clients advantage. Although MJ complained about the amount of ‘weird ass YouTube shows’ she’d made an appearance on since Nikki joined the team, being the internet’s darling came with perks. Namely directors who could see that her talent matched her beauty and personality. It was simultaneously years in the making and instantaneous. She was always MJ. Now she was Mary Jane and Peter swung by her face countless times a night as he swung through Manhattan. He first lead role and he was missing it. The only reason Nikki would be here was to take her away.
“Hey, good to see you up, Peter. I have to steal Mary Jane for the evening.” She didn’t even pretend that she was sorry to say it. One thing he liked about her. “We’re already running behind on hair and makeup, MJ. The entire team is set up in the living room and ready to get you out of here. We’ve only got about three hours until we need to be there and who knows what it’s going to look like trying to get 3 blocks away at that hour."
MJ looked quickly between the two of them and down at her hand intertwined with Peter’s.
“Can you tell everyone thank you for coming and I’ll be there in a moment. We’ll go simple tonight. We don’t have time to straighten my hair so we’ll have to figure something out with the curls.”
The woman gave one sharp nod before closing the door on her way out.
“For the record, I like when your hair is curly.” Peter stated as MJ stood to gather her phone and tablet. Michelle Jones, the girl he fell in love with, loved her curls and rarely straightened them. Mary Jane came home one day with deep red hair, straightened down her back. Nikki is an image architect. MJ repeated when he asked questions about the drastic change. “But if you have time, maybe for brand recognition you should pull it back so it looks straight? Maybe a few curls in the front.”
MJ threw her head back in laughter and turned to face him.
“You’ve been listening in on my calls. 'Brand recognition' my ass.” She giggled as she came back to the bed to stand next to him. “You’re probably right. We’ll see.”
She leaned down to kiss him softly on the lips and Peter could hear the way she breathed in sharply as she pulled away, immediately stilling her face to protect whatever emotion rose to the surface.
“I’m sorry I have to go.” MJ continued.
“Don’t be sorry, it’s my fault. And don’t worry. It’s all over your face.”
She rolled her eyes but kissed him one more time, whispering her love against his lips. Then she was gone and he could finally let the aches and pains and their meds drag him under.
When Peter woke again, Aunt May was sitting in the chair MJ had occupied. The projector was on and the red carpet was front and center.
“I’m up.” Peter groaned, checking his IV to make sure there was still medication flowing. “Did I miss her?”
“I would’ve woken you.” May answered, turning to look at him. “The rest of the cast is there, though, so she should be pulling up soon. You see how Harry Osborn is lingering, doing longer interviews? He’s waiting for her so they can take photos together.”
“Since when do you know so much about how red carpets are run?”
“Since Club Watson requires it.”
Mary Jane’s official unofficial fan page that May had started as a joking sign of support, amassed twenty thousand followers just from May’s faithful tweets about whatever new video or photo the fans should go like. His eyes zeroed in on the laptop open on the chair’s armrest but he said nothing and turned his attention to the grating voices of the red carpet presenters. When MJ suggested the account be deleted, lest fans trace May back to Peter’s night job, Nikki lost her mind at the mere thought and it was never brought up again.
“Were you here when she left?”
“Yeah, she took a few photos in the service elevator to post when she hits the carpet. Some video walking the hall. You’ll love it.”
It was an understatement. When she stepped onto the carpet he was even more sorry he wasn’t there. They’d apparently had time to straighten her hair so it fell down, a sheet of red across the expanse of her uncovered back. When she turned, it felt like his brain was trying to outgrow his skull. It took him a moment to remember the first concussion when the doctor told him even thinking would hinder his progress. He didn’t care. The front of her dress lent itself to a subtle recreation of her favorite suit of his. The red and black sequins shimmered under the lights as she turned and strutted to different end of the carpets so the fighting photogs could get their shots.
When she finally stopped for interviews, he could feel himself stop breathing. When she sat on his bed, hand in his, he could see the anxiety and fear in her eyes. It was clear as day on the projected image of her. She looked bored but Peter knew that was a façade to hide the rest of her from the cameras. He let out a deep breath when MJ finally stepped away from the cameras and locked eyes with his aunt.
"You think she did okay?" He asked, fiddling with the medicine pump at his side. He idly wondered how much this all must cost.
"She did fine. She's nervous and she's worried about you." She lifted an eyebrow at him before turning back to her computer. "Try to sleep please."
“Okay…I’m gonna press this button for extra meds…” He held it up and grimaced at his Aunt May’s chuckle. “Please tell MJ I love her and she was beautiful and the dress was amazing and I’m so so sorry and I love her-“
“Peter.” May stopped him before he could continue. “I will tell her you woke up to see her and that you can’t wait to be conscious to tell her your thoughts all by yourself.”
May stood and walked to the bed, tucking the blanket around him. She kissed his head and whispered ‘I love you’ to his drifting body. He fell asleep to the sound of her fingers steadily tapping the keys on her laptop and thoughts of the love of his life.
When he opened his eyes again MJ was curled in the bed with him, her face free of make up and her hair braided down her back. Sometimes they joked that coming home after engagements she needed to take Mary Jane off and it looked like she’d done exactly that and crawled right into his covers to sleep. She was awake now, though. He could tell from her breathing and the tighting of her hold on him as he stirred back to life. The projector was still on but the volume was low and he could also tell she was listening. A panel of four women sat around a table discussing the premiere the night before with a video of MJ walking the carpet behind them. Her arm moved slightly and the room filled with discussion about the premiere.
“I just think, you know, these girls, they get a little bit of money and a little bit of attention and all of a sudden they’re above all of it.”
“Glo, I don’t think that’s fair. Mary Jane Watson has climbed the ranks and we’ve been climbing with her. From her modeling days, to theater, I think she was just nervous.”
“Listen, I’ve been in this business a long time. It doesn’t matter how much you think you know these girls, you don’t. All of that personality is their job. Take them off a set and they’re vapid. Just dull. You take a pretty girl and put her in a pretty dress and put her in front of a camera and people love it. If she can read, you put her in a movie. But these girls today are vapid! Boring! Uninspired!”
“Alright, I’m done with that.” Peter mumbled, taking the controller from her hand and turning the projector off. “Em, none of that stuff matters. I know people will love the movie and they love you. You’re the draw.”
MJ shook her head and placed her chin on his chest. Avoiding the leg that he kept forgetting was plastered and heavy under the covers.
“It’s okay. I’m okay.” She ran a hand down the left side his face, brushing her thumb across his lips to bring her hand to a rest at his ear. “I tried…it just wasn’t how I imagined it. I wanted you there with me and…I was worried. I don’t want you to feel bad but…I wanted to be home with you.”
“I’m sorry you couldn’t enjoy your night.” Peter swallowed, unsure of to respond. “Next time will be better?”
“Yeah, maybe next time.” She chuffed like he thought she would. “Today, I’d like to stay in bed with you. Just rest.”
“With that attitude you’re never beating the vapid allegations.”
Peter couldn’t help but laugh as she pressed a finger into a healing bruise on his side. Then he was still as she sat up to press a kiss to his lips. He basked in the warmth of her body against his and promised himself once more he’d do better.