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MJ swings his wet towel over his shoulder as he checks his phone in the process.
No response yet. So either Parker’s getting thrown about in an alley or his phone is dead—could be either knowing him.
He shouldn’t even care this much. For that brunette boy with his stupid glasses carrying around his stupid camera and having that stupid toothy grin that just makes MJ want to do stupid stupid things— this was all so stupid has he mentioned that?
Ever since Peter revealed that he was indeed Spider-Man as per MJ’s keen intuition, things have been shifting. This so-called dance they were doing around each other, the constant worrying, the hesitation in Peter’s eyes that MJ just wanted to grab his head and tell the other’s thoughts to shut up and make the move.
But he can’t. MJ couldn’t do that. Not to the city he knows and loves that needs Spider-Man more than he wants him. Spider-Man couldn’t belong to MJ, that can’t happen, but some small thought lingers that maybe, just maybe, he can have Peter Parker.
It’s stupid. All of it.
He falls into his desk chair, his laptop opened up with a paper he has due in a couple of days. A minute goes by of staring at the screen. Then another. And then another til MJ sighs and closes the laptop.
“Stupid fucking Parker,” he mutters as he swivels his chair maybe to stop his constant thinking. Thoughts can’t hit moving target right?
“Thinking of me?”
MJ almost falls out of the chair, hand on his chest as he looks toward where the voice was. Peter fucking Parker leaning on the brick wall of his very-open window that he swore he locked and he was dripping blood.
Wait.
“Peter, what the fuck.” MJ quickly gets out of his chair and within two steps he’s sitting on the window sill holding Peter’s shoulders as if the hero was going to fall apart.
“Should I use the front door next time?” Peter gives his stupid toothy smile except his mouth has blood dripping on the side and his lips are torn and bruised.
“Shut your fucking mouth, Parker.” MJ grabs his chin to tilt the man’s head to scan the injuries on his face. Nothing too life threatening and he can clearly still crack a joke.
“What happened?”
“I thought you told me to shut my mouth?” MJ doesn’t laugh and grips his chin a bit harder causing the hero to wince at the sudden harshness.
“Ah ah— sorry— I, uh Dr. Connors happened— he took some serum and it made him into some lizard that I fought in the sewers and it was actually a whole ordeal, well actually before the fight I did get your message and I knew you would kill me if I didn’t respond but the whole thing with Connors kind of turned out a bit longer than expected…” Peter trails off and looks askance to the side.
“I’m sorry, MJ, I didn’t want you to see me like this— this version of me where I lose a fight and I can’t do much to protect people besides shoot webs and pray to God it keeps someone stuck in there and I just—”
MJ cups his face and turns the man’s head to focus back on him.
“Peter,” he starts, watching how Peter’s eyes get larger with the reflection of himself staring back at him—as if MJ was his whole world. “You are anything but weak, you’re never that. You go out into the city every night in hopes of one day changing someone’s fate for the better.”
MJ leans in closer, their foreheads touching. “You try every day. You try your damn hardest to help anyone. You’re a hero— you’re my hero.”
Peter lets out a shaky breath as a hand comes up to caress MJ’s hand on his cheek. A tear falls from his eyes, subtle and slow, MJ wipes it away.
“Let me help you okay?”
Peter nods his head and MJ puts an arm under to help him stand up and limp to the bed. He falls down a bit clumsy and winces in pain as he scoots to sit straight against the headboard.
“Anything broken?”
“Maybe bruised?” Peter gestures to the zipped to the side of his top half and MJ gently undos it. The suit peels off and drops to the floor and MJ tries his best not to act so terrified at all of Peter’s wounds.
:”Damn, Parker, he did a number on you,” MJ mumbles low under his breath.
“Yeah, tell me about it.” The man fights the urge to roll his eyes and kneels beside the bed to grab something from underneath. His medicine box slides out and he goes back to sit on the edge.
“You’re prepared for this,” Peter says with slight curiosity looking at the fully-stocked medicine box.
“Dad used to put me in boxing and self-defense— had to tend to myself on rough days.” He opens up a pack of gauze and a wipe. Luckily, there were no deep wounds that needed stitching and he’s not so sure on how Peter heals with that weird spider ability of his.
“Used to?” Peter watches with rapt attention of MJ’s deft hands wiping the blood off his chest.
“Yeah, found out I liked other things than beating stuff up.”
“Like writing?” The hero glances at the messy array of papers on the other’s desk and back to him.
MJ lets out an amused huff, “yeah, like writing.”
“I saw what you put in the column for the school newspaper.”
“Parker, you take photos for the same newspaper, of course you’ve read it dumbass.”
Peter laughs, but stops shortly as his ribs look like they’re about to give up. “I know that, it’s just your writing is truly captivating even if you’re writing about how mundane the cafeteria food is. And you actually put effort into it even if it's just a school newspaper— seriously, this could be something real for you.”
“Okay, Shakespeare,” he shakes his head at the nonsense. Writing was just something he did on the side. It helps get his thoughts in place amongst the chaos in his head, it couldn’t be anything too serious for him.
MJ finishes up wiping almost all blood off Peter’s chest and his eyes trail down just for a second. Peter was ripped underneath that suit and all the baggy clothes he wore. Was this because of that damn spider? God, the man he wanted was right in front of him like this. He’d be a fool to not take this chance.
But he’s a fool and his hand stops just a mere millimeter away from touching down any further. Peter must’ve sensed his hesitation and immediately grabs his wrist from moving away.
“Parker.” MJ warns sternly as his wrist gets pulled in further, but Peter pays no attention to that. They’re in each other's spaces and all MJ wants to do is hold him—hold him tight and never let go.
“We can’t do this…” he softly says as he gazes down at the hero's lips, red and purple from the bruising.
“Why?’ His voice cracks in response like it hurts him. “MJ, you’re all I want.”
“Because—” MJ bites his lip in consideration before letting go. “This is your world… You’re Spider-Man for god’s sake.” And he’d be greedy if he had both Peter Parker and Spider-Man.
It’s Peter’s turn to caress MJ’s face and bring him in closer. “You’re a part of it too, MJ. You have been.”
Peter looks back at him and those goddamn eyes always make him weak. “When I was fighting Connors, I thought I wouldn’t make it— but I couldn’t fail there. I had to see you, I had to tell you how much you mean to me—”
The air punches out of MJ’s lungs and for once in his life, he takes what he wants. MJ pushes forward and captures Peter lips with his. It felt so right, so perfect, to be in this moment. MJ feels Peter’s hand holding his nape and kissing him ever deeper. Without thinking, he steadies his hand on the other’s shoulders and hears a small sound of pain that he quickly pulls away.
“Shit, sorry there, Tiger.” He fully takes in how Peter looks in front of him, all blush red from his chest to his face, his lips plump, his eyes hazy and unfocused—fuck, he looked so good here.
“Please, MJ.”
“You’re still hurt, Parker.”
“I’ll heal, trust me, I’ll heal fast,” and abruptly Peter grabs onto his waist and practically makes MJ straddle him. That damn super-strength of his easily picking him up like this, but he doesn’t mind as he tangles his fingers in those messy brown strands and pulls in for another kiss.
MJ is out of breath when Peter pulls away to kiss his neck and it honestly feels like his forbidden dreams. But he needs to have self-control here and not go any further with an injured person.
“Take me out on a date first, Peter.” And the other practically whines into the crook of his neck and that should have not made his stomach clench hearing that.
“Tonight?”
Silence follows and Peter sighs and lifts his head to kiss him softly. “When I’m healed?”
“That’s more like it.”