Work Text:
(1)
The lecture hall buzzed with the usual energy that came with early morning classes. MJ himself feels himself fighting the urge to doze off. The instructor is busy with her lecture and MJ feels himself writing down notes and following along, but he’s not really following along. His brain is moving on autopilot and he feels like he's stuck in some daze. God, he hates this class. MJ has nothing against the instructor at all, and he’s sure if this class took place at any other time he’d find it enjoyable, but early mornings are just not his thing.
The noisy rustling and stumbling down the aisles brings MJ back into focus as he turns around in his seat, spotting the one and only Peter Parker. His hair is a mess, sticking up in every direction and MJ can’t help but think that it kinda looks cute on him, but that’s besides the point. His backpack is hanging off one shoulder, his shirt is wrinkled to shit underneath the jacket that hangs off him, and a cup of what MJ assumes is coffee sloshes around and spills droplets onto his hand, causing him to curse under his breath. MJ watches his eyes scan the room before meeting his, making a beeline over to the seat MJ saved for him.
“You’re late. Again. How many times is that now just this week?” MJ teases, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, whatever,” Peter mutters. “Did I miss much? And morning, MJ.”
“Nah, but you can look at my notes later. What’s up with you? Rough morning?” MJ asks, concern leaking into his tone.
Peter lets out a breath, taking a glance at himself. “Something like that.”
MJ nods absentmindedly, “Something like that..” He hums. The two delve into quietness, focusing on the instructor for a few minutes before MJ speaks up again. “On a serious note, though, you’d tell me if something was up, right? ‘Cause you been showing up lookin’ like complete shit for almost a week now.” He sees Peter’s adam apple bob as he swallows.
“I uh..it was really just a rough morning, woke up late and all that jazz,” Peter tells him, keeping his voice casual. MJ pauses, pen pausing on his notebook, the ink steadily beginning to bleed into the sheet. It’s clear of how unconvinced he is by the sheepish look that passes over Peter’s face.
“You ain’t lying to me, right, Parker? ‘Cause you know I can tell.” Peter huffs out a small, nervous laugh. He rubs the back of his neck, “I know, ‘s scary how well you read people..but uh, really, mornings are just hard for me.”
“Mm.” MJ stares at him for a second longer before focusing back on his notebook. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Peter briefly exhale in what could be relief, and MJ knows he’s lying. He knows, but he doesn’t have it in him to press right now.
It’s fine, though, MJ doubts this’ll be the last time he’ll notice something about the mystery that is Peter Parker.
(2)
The knocking starts as a loud, persistent thud that manages to drag MJ out of his sleep. He chooses to ignore it at first, maybe it was some drunk partygoer who has the wrong dorm.
He smothers his face in his pillow, trying to let sleep take him again.
The knocking comes again, duller and slower this time. MJ groans, quickly becoming irritated, and as he looks at the digital clock that blaringly reads 3:06 AM on his nightstand, that irritation slowly begins to turn into anger because why is anyone awake at this hour?
Three more knocks.
MJ mumbles something under his breath, stumbling out of bed and shuffling out of his room. He’s in nothing but his basketball shorts and he really can’t be bothered to pull on a shirt right now. The floorboards creak quietly under his feet and he sees his roommate’s door crack open, a soft yellow light flooding the hallway. Drew, his roommate, pops his head out, his eyes half-lidded. “Who’s at the door?” He mumbles, clearly being woken up because of it.
“Dunno, but go back to sleep, man. I got it.” MJ murmurs, reaching the front door. As he unlocks the door, he feels that irritation swell in his chest but everything drops back down to a simmer once he opens the door.
“Parker?
Peter stands in the hallway, his fist flopping back down to his side. His hair clings to his forehead, coated with sweat. The flimsy t-shirt he’s wearing is darkened at the side that MJ can guess is either more sweat or, worst-case, blood. Peter’s eyes meet his and MJ can see just how unfocused and glassy they are.
“Hey, MJ,” he says quietly.
All of his irritation vanishes immediately. Peter sways dangerously in front of him and he grabs his arm, steadying him and guiding him inside. “Jesus—what the fuck—?” Peter doesn’t argue, doesn’t joke or make up some awkward excuse, he just lets MJ take control. He pulls the door shut and locks it before taking Peter to his room where he sinks down onto the bed, his body becoming boneless as all the strength drains out of him.
MJ feels…scared. Seeing Peter so…not-Peter made fear flood through his veins and settle deep inside his bones. Sure, he’d seen Peter exhausted and burnt out on occasion, but he still cracked jokes and insisted he was fine. He saw none of that now.
“Hey,” MJ says quietly, crouching down in front of him. “Can you look at me? Please?” Peter’s head moves and his eyes are directed on him, but MJ has no idea what’s going on in his head, if he’s really even seeing him right now. Up close, MJ can see dried tear stains on his cheeks and a cut that’s already coagulated and crusted up on his jaw. His breathing is labored and uneven, and MJ doesn’t know if that’s because of the underlying extent of his injuries or not. Carefully, MJ peels the blood soaked fabric of his shirt up, revealing a gash along his ribcage, and he feels his gut twist. “‘Kay, just..sit tight. Don’t move.” MJ forces out, trying to keep his voice steady as he rises back up, heading straight for the bathroom. First-aid kit, warm water, towels. He isn’t sure how bad his actual injury is but it didn’t look too bad, not seeming deep enough to need stitches, but what would MJ know? He’s not a fucking doctor. When he returns to his room, supplies in hand, Peter is still in the same spot he left him, hunched over slightly with his head in his hands. Upon hearing MJ’s return, his head darts up and MJ can see a wetter, glossier sheen to his eyes. Peter instantly deflates, his head falling back into his hands.
“Hey,” MJ says softly, setting the supplies down on his nightstand and sitting next to him. “Scoot up. Think you can take your shirt off?” Peter gives a small nod, doing so and letting out a sharp noise of pain. He pushes himself up further onto the bed, turning and facing MJ. He ignores the fact that his shoes, which he’s now realizing have mud dried on them and currently leaving flakes, are on his bed.
MJ wets the clean towel and presses it as gently as he can against the gash. Peter flinches and lets out a hiss but doesn’t pull away. “Sorry, I know.” MJ apologizes.
The silence stretches, weighing heavy on the both of them. Normal Peter would be rambling right now, making up excuses and deflecting anything and everything MJ would throw at him. MJ doesn’t pry, just settles in the silence and continues to fix him up. He uses gauze to wrap up his side before moving on to clean up the blood on his jaw. MJ notices how Peter’s head tips forward little by little, his eyes drooping even more. He places a bandaid on his jaw, letting out a sigh of relief.
“There. You with me?”
Peter gives a small nod, his eyes flickering shut for a moment. “Don’t fall asleep just yet,” MJ murmurs, putting the towel and gauze roll back onto the nightstand. He helps Peter take his shoes off, chucking them across the room before brushing off the flecks of mud on his bed. He heads over to his dresser and pulls out a random shirt, handing it to Peter who puts it on.
“...Thanks,” he says quietly, finally meeting his eyes and actually looking present.
MJ shrugs, “It’s whatever, man. You’re my boy, so..don’t mention it.”
A moment passes and neither of them speak.
“You can sleep in my bed. And take your jeans off—”
“...Most people take me to dinner first.” A laugh is forced from MJ’s chest and he catches the faintest glimpse of a smile on Peter’s face. That’s the Peter he knows.
“Fuck off, man. Just—lay down, ‘kay? And scoot over.” MJ says, moving to push the covers back and getting under them alongside Peter who does the same.
A minute barely passes before Peter is asleep. MJ lingers for a second, watching the fall and rise of Peter’s chest and how for once tonight, he looks peaceful.
There’ll be time for questions later. What mattered was that he’s safe, and for now, that was enough.
(3)
The city was way too loud sometimes.
MJ has his hands burrowed into the pockets of his hoodie as he walks down the block. His headphones are on, but he isn’t listening to anything, simply there to minimize the loudness and for the aesthetic.
It’s been such a long day. Been about..almost a month since Peter showed up on his doorstep broken and tired. For the first few days, it was the only thing circling his brain. MJ chose against asking questions about what happened, even though he still desperately wanted to know, but Peter had just…he had looked so tired and had gotten a far away look in his eyes when MJ was about to ask—he looked as if he was gonna shut down and MJ just..he didn’t think he could stomach that again.
MJ exhales, curling his fists in his hoodie pockets, crossing the street and trying to tune out the sound of cars honking and people shouting. He just..didn’t understand. Didn’t get how someone like Peter could get injured that badly. The fact that he wasn’t able to come up with some extravagant excuse meant it was really bad, right? The more he thinks about it, the more upset he gets.
He stops as he turns the corner, frowning as more noise bled through his headphones. It starts as raised voices, varying in pitch, but MJ doesn’t pay it any mind again because, well, that was usual. People fought a lot.
The moment he steps foot in front of the convenience store though, his body freezes. There’s 4 figures inside, including a guy behind the counter. And between the other 3—one of them has a gun. Shit.
Now, MJ isn’t stupid. And there’s also the fact that this isn’t really his problem. Also, who the fuck robs any place at 10:45 in the fucking morning? If MJ was a robber, and that’s a very big if, he’d want to do shit like that at night, right? That’s besides the point though. If the circumstances were different, like maybe no gun was involved, and there weren’t 3 masked figures, then yeah, MJ maybe would’ve stepped in. But those aren’t the circumstances today so…he’ll probably call it in and let someone else take over.
Just as he takes a step back, a whoosh sound rings out and a flash of red and blue drops down from somewhere, planting right between the store and MJ.
MJ is..speechless, because holy shit is that Spider-Man?
The man in front of him straightens out, rolling his shoulders. “Um.” MJ says bluntly, causing Spider-Man to turn towards him. It seems like he pauses for a second and it doesn’t help that MJ can’t get a read on him.
“Oh—Hey!” Spider-Man said, instantly focusing. “Hey. Uh—you might wanna, like, get outta here?”
MJ raised an eyebrow, gesturing towards the store. “Yeah? Kinda figured that out already. Not like I was gonna go in there.”
Spider-Man nods along, “Right, yeah! Yeah, you definitely don’t wanna go in there.”
MJ crosses his arms across his chest, “Really? No shit, man. Think I’m stupid?” He asks, teasingly. The man immediately shakes his head. “No! No, not at all, man. You look very…intellectual, so..uh..”
And that’s interesting. His voice takes on a softer tone and a crash sounds out throughout the store, gaining Spider-Man’s attention, giving MJ the chance to study him for a second.
He’d never met Spider-Man before. Up close he’s more..human, or whatever that means. Like he’s an actual person under the suit. An awkward guy under the suit, to be exact. It felt..familiar.
“So...danger happens and you’re drawn in like a moth to a flame? You just..drop in like nothing?” MJ asks. Spider-Man glances back at him. “Uh—Yeah, basically! I just—was the little drop-down cool or should I like, add a flip? Maybe a twirl?”
MJ snorts, and…why does he…kinda remind him of someone? The awkward rambling, the way he talks too fast, the stupid little joke that always makes him laugh coming from somebody else, and despite his voice being muffled and forcibly pitched higher, MJ knows there's something familiar about him.
But—No, that’d be ridiculous. Plausible, but no, that’d be ridiculous.
“You good?” Spider-Man asked, “Kinda zoned out on me for a bit!”
MJ coughs, “Shouldn’t you be stopping the robbery?”
He instantly straightens up, nodding rapidly before quickly locking in and getting to action. MJ turns around, his steps fastening as he blends in with the crowd of people heading away from the store.
There’s shouts and the sound of webbing but MJ doesn’t look back.
His brain is still focused on his voice. His entire demeanor. That…familiar, comforting energy that surrounded Spider-Man.
But it didn’t mean anything. It probably didn’t mean anything, and MJ shouldn’t focus on it too much because Peter? Possibly being Spider-Man of all people?
No way. Definitely not.
Still—the thought settles deep in the back of his brain.
(4)
There’s an insistent buzzing and vibrating against wood, loud in the quietness of MJ’s room.
He groans under his blanket, realizing that it’s of course, his phone. He blindly reaches for it, wincing and squinting at the extremely bright screen that lights up his face.
Peter 📸
He glances at the digital clock next: 12:38 AM.
MJ still swipes to answer. “Parker, man,” MJ says, his voice rough due to being woken up. “You realize what time it is, right? I swear if this is about homework I—”
“Hey. Sorry, um.” Peter’s voice is quiet and soft, no hints of amusement and he isn’t rambling out apologies. It’s quiet on his side, way too quiet.
MJ sit’s up a little, feeling the sleep drain out of his body in an instant. “Hey.” There’s a pause and he can hear Peter softly breathing on the other side. It isn’t labored or stuttering like before, which MJ takes as a good sign.
“You good?” MJ asks, his voice softer, void of any previous irritation.
Another pause. Then—
“Mhm. Yeah, sorry, I’m—I’m okay.” He lets out a small breath. MJ eases back into bed, still unconvinced but not as wary. “‘Course you are. You always call me at…12:40 AM when you’re doing fine.”
There’s a faint huff—almost sounding like a laugh—on the other side. “Okay, jokester. But I am fine, just..I just couldn’t sleep.” Peter insists.
“Rightt..” MJ drawls, running a hand down his face. “So you thought, ‘I bet MJ would just love to also be awake right now.’” Another huff of laughter. “Sorry. Really.”
“Nah, ‘s all cool. I know you wouldn’t call me this late if somethin’ wasn’t up.” MJ murmurs. There’s another brief pause and MJ waits, doesn’t press. He knew that if he waited long enough Peter would eventually fill that silence.
“...just got a lot of things to worry about right now,” Peter finally admits, sighing in defeat. MJ stares up at his ceiling, humming in acknowledgement. “What things?” There’s a small sliver of a second where MJ can tell that Peter hesitates to say something, but he quickly bounces back.
“Exams.” He blurts out. “A lot to handle.”
A good cover up for whatever he was really going to say, MJ will give him that. It’s vague, but relatable. “Midterms don’t start for another…three weeks. Why you stressin’ now?”
Peter groans and MJ can hear him flop down onto his own bed. “I’m aware, it’s just..I dunno, I feel like I’m falling behind and that I’ll just..I’ll somehow forget to study one thing ‘cause I’ll focus too much on another and…and everything's just gonna fall apart.”
“You ain’t gon’ mess it up, man,” MJ says.
“How do you know that?” Peter says, his voice sounding stressed to hell.
“‘Cause you got me in your corner. I’ll help you study more ‘n all that shit. I’ll make sure you cover everything”
Peter doesn’t respond right away.
“Plus, you’re quite literally the smartest dude I know.” Peter scoffs on the other end but MJ keeps going. “Sure, you’re late to class, a lot, and sometimes you miss class altogether, but you still put in effort to catch up. I never see you slack off, you ace everything. You ain’t giving yourself enough credit.”
Silence.
“...doesn’t feel like I do enough.”
MJ feels his chest tighten, and Peter continues. “I feel like I’m just…carrying too much at once. And then I try to focus on one thing and everything else just gets out of hand, and then…and then someone ends up getting hurt—er, not hurt, um…affected. Like, with studying, I feel like I’m wasting your time if I end up failing because…well, you always help me and I don’t always get it, y’know? That’s gotta be exhausting.” MJ frowns, squinting at his ceiling. It was obvious that Peter wasn’t just talking about exams, and a certain figure in red and blue came to the front of his mind. He quickly shakes that thought away though.
“...I just don’t want you to hate me.” And that sounds heavier than it should be. Peter sucks in a sharp breath and MJ can tell that he most likely didn’t mean to say that.
“When I first met you, in that one history class, the first thing I thought was ‘this nigga is weird.’” That gains a reaction, a little offended protest to which MJ instantly cuts off. “You’d ask to borrow pens and never returned them, and when I refused to give you any more, you…you looked at me with those stupid, puppy dog eyes and nerdy glasses, and I just gave in. Then there were the non-stop fun facts from you every time we learned something new. It was stupidly endearing though, so I never complained. They also helped me remember shit easily.” MJ’s tone softens as he continues. “And, eventually, you stopped being that weird guy in class and started being…Peter. I mean, you’re still weird, don’t get me wrong. But in a good way. In a way that I could never hate. You’re my best friend, man. I don’t think anything you say or do could make me hate you.”
The line goes quiet. There’s so much more he wants to say—like when he started seeing Peter as more than a friend—but he doesn’t because he feels like Peter might go into shock, and he doesn’t know where Peter stands on matters like that.
Then—
“...’m really glad I met you.”
MJ blinks, momentarily caught off guard. He feels his heart warm as he huffs out a breath. “Yeah, whatever. Go to sleep now, Parker. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Peter lets out a chuckle, “‘Kay.”
The line clicks and goes silent a second later, leaving MJ alone with his thoughts. He eventually sets his phone back down on his nightstand. As he settles back down and closes his eyes, a thought lingers. Spider-Man. It seemed…more reasonable now after this call, but MJ knows he can’t push, on the off-chance that he’s entirely wrong or that Peter might freak out and run.
But MJ knows he’ll be ready for whatever it is that Peter’s going to confess.
(5)
MJ wakes up late on the one day he has an exam. And it’s not late as in, ‘Oh, I can still make it if I just rush,’ no, not at all. His alarm on his phone ends up not going off because apparently, his phone fucking hates him, and the alarm set on his digital clock chose to malfunction today of all days. The sunlight beaming into his face is what eventually gets him up. He ends up waking up at 10:27. His class, which is an hour and a half, starts at 8:00. MJ knows that today is going to suck.
He’ll have to email his professor, explain everything, and request a make-up day which thankfully his professor offers once throughout the quarter.
There’s no texts or calls from Peter at all, so he assumes he’s caught up with his own thing.
He lays in bed for a second longer, staring at the ceiling. Laying in bed all day isn’t an option but it’s what he so desperately wants to do. With a groan, he gets out of bed, stretching to shake off any remainders of sleep. At least he had no other plans for today…
MJ goes to throw on a random hoodie and toes on his shoes. Now, he could head to the campus library and review his notes. He stuffs his phone into his jean pockets, throwing his bag over his shoulder as he leaves his dorm.
His headphones are on again, music low as he approaches the library on campus. The library is mostly empty, save for a few random people scattered around. MJ stops in front of the elevator, pressing the button and waiting.
The doors slide open with a soft ding and MJ steps in, hitting the button for the second floor of the library. There was rarely anyone up there, and judging by how little people there were on the first floor, he doubts there’ll be much on the second. The elevator doors slide shut and he pulls out his phone while he waits andd…zero signal. Cool. He stuffs his phone back into his pocket tilting his head back with a sigh. For about four seconds the elevator rumbles lowly as it moves before coming to an abrupt stop.
There’s a loud bang above him followed by the sound of metal creaking, something heavy sounding…
“This is such bullshit…I knew I shoulda just taken the stairs,” MJ mutters under his breath, backing up until his body hits the wall. Then—the elevator jerks hard and MJ’s body lurches forward, his stomach dropping as the elevator drops a few inches before stopping with a violent jolt. The lights dimmed before flickering slightly, and MJ tries to act like his heart didn’t just fall to his ass. He presses the emergency button, waits, then hits it again once nothing happens.
And—okay, MJ isn’t the biggest fan of small spaces. He doesn’t hate them, he just…doesn’t love them. But it’s cool. For now, at least. With the assumption that the elevator doesn’t just…completely break and drop, and MJ gets trapped underneath all the rubble and inevitably dies, and hey, maybe he shouldn’t even think this scenario into existence.
Another crash sounds out from above and then the ceiling caves in, metal tearing open with a sharp screech as a blur of red and blue drops through the opening. MJ flinches back, raising his arm to shield his face as debris flies across the room.
Spider-Man drops into the elevator, straightening back up quickly as his attention turns to MJ. “Are you hurt?” He asks, stepping forward a bit, his hands hovering awkwardly by his sides as if he wants to reach out. His voice is obviously pitched higher like last time, and MJ can hear just how forced it is. MJ stares at him for a second before shaking his head, “I’m good. All good.”
“Okay, awesome, uh so…little backstory, parts of this building are like, under construction right now, and I guess they forgot to put out signs and shit so people know not to use the elevators, so…” Spider-Man trails off. MJ nods along, “...so I’m just insanely unlucky.”
Spider-Man chuckles a bit, glancing back up at the ceiling that’s been busted through. “Alright, so, I’m gonna get you out, ‘kay? Before it fully collapses.” MJ nods as Spider-Man steps closer.
“Can you hold onto me? Don’t worry, I can carry you,” He says, and MJ raises an eyebrow. “Calling me fat?” Spider-Man lets out an incredulous sound, waving his hands in front of him. “No, no—not at all, I’m just saying! ‘Cause I know like, my body doesn’t look all that built so I didn’t want you to doubt me or-”
MJ lets out a small laugh, “I’m fuckin’ with you, man.”
He pauses. “Right, right! I’m just gonna—” He steps closer to MJ, sliding an arm around his waist—grip sturdy and firm, just like someone else’s. MJ doesn’t flinch, he instead reaches up and grips onto his shoulders. “Hold on, yeah?” Spider-Man says. Just as he’s about to pull them out, he freezes.
“Oh—hey, um—” Spider-Man seems to hesitate for a second before continuing. “What’s..uh, what’s your name? In case we run into each other again, y’know? Well—hopefully not because this is the second time you’ve been in danger but—” He rambles, MJ’s chest tightening at the familiarity of it.
“It’s Michael. But everyone calls me MJ.”
A pause.
“MJ,” He says softly, and…Oh. MJ feels his chest warm as he feels tingles—more like tiny fireworks—explode throughout his bones—that tingle he gets in his bones whenever Peter says his name in that tone. Peter, who's had to of said his name about a hundred times, who seemed to have reserved a special way of saying it just for MJ. Peter, who held a familiar softness when speaking to him. Everything is suddenly put into perspective, and MJ feels like he can’t breathe. This wasn’t something he could just push to the back of his mind and ignore, not anymore, now that he knows. He can just feel it deep inside that this is his Peter.
Before he knows it, a web shoots upward, and in a smooth and fast motion, Spider-Man pulls them through to the top. MJ holds on tighter than necessary, but he doesn’t say anything about it. They reach the top quickly, the two of them landing on the opening of the shaft and onto solid floor.
“You okay?” Spider-Man asks softly.
MJ doesn’t know what to say, but he knows he has to respond. He lets out a shaky breath, “Yep. All good.”
Spider-Man shifts around awkwardly, seemingly not sure of what he should do now. “Good. That’s um, good that you’re good. Anyways, I should…get outta here. Danger calls and all that, right?”
“Yeah. Thanks, man.” Spider-Man nods, stepping back and about to leave, before pausing. “Stay safe, MJ,” he says softly,
MJ doesn’t watch as he disappears, too focused on the realization dawning on him. He didn’t need proof anymore, didn’t need to see him without the mask, or a big confession, because he knows now.
And everything leading up to this moment makes perfect sense.
+ (1)
Midterms are finally over and Peter still hasn’t said anything. Not that MJ’s gonna bring it up either, or that he expected Peter to admit to it. He probably still thinks he’s completely clueless, that he’s doing an excellent job at keeping it a secret.
MJ can be patient though, even though it’s practically killing him.
They’re in Peter’s dorm relaxing now that the stress has been momentarily lifted off the both of them. His roommate is gone and won’t be home for the rest of the day. His TV plays quietly in the background, set on some random movie that neither are paying any attention to. Peter’s sprawled out on the ground, back resting against the couch. MJ’s sitting right behind him on the couch, not really focusing on anything in particular. Except for the fact that Peter keeps squirming around and trying to catch glances at him.
It doesn’t take long for MJ to finally let out a sigh and question him.
“What’s up?” MJ asks and Peter freezes like he's been caught doing something he isn’t supposed to be doing. He turns around on the floor to face him. “Huh?”
“You’re acting weird. Matter fact, you been weird all day. Way more..fidgety than usual.” He says. Peter scoffs and looks like he’s about to protest before MJ throws him a look.
He rubs the back of his neck, huffing out a breath.
“...what’s wrong?” MJ asks, his voice softer. There’s a few moments of silence before Peter speaks up.
“Um…there’s something I gotta tell you.”
MJ feels his heart immediately skyrocket. Finally. He struggles to keep his face calm even though his skin itches in anticipation. “Yeah? What’s up?”
They fall into silence again and MJ doesn’t press, just lets him take as long as he needs. Peter exhales shakily. “So…I’ve been hiding something from you. A..uh, pretty big something.” He says, and MJ fights back the urge to raise an eyebrow and say, “No shit.”
“I really didn’t want to hide it,” Peter continues, “I—I didn’t want you to see me differently and I wasn’t sure how to tell you, how you’d react. I thought that…if I just shoved it down deep enough, deflected, didn’t say anything, it’d be fine and…and you wouldn’t suspect anything, but it’s gotten to a point where I—I can’t hide it anymore and—”
“Peter.”
He freezes, and MJ lets out a huff of laughter. “I been knew.”
Then, silence. Peter’s mouth hangs open in disbelief as he blinks at him. “You…what?”
“You ain’t exactly subtle, y’know.”
“So you did suspect it. I thought I was doing a pretty good job..I mean, I was really really careful,” Peter complains weakly. His face is a mix between relieved and horrified, like he doesn’t know if he should bolt or stay.
“When were you gonna tell me? ‘S not like I would’ve been mad or anything. I know you had your reasons for hiding it, so…not like I’m gonna hold it against you. The terrible lying and excuses are a whole different story though.” MJ says casually and Peter looks sheepish as he chuckles.
“I didn’t wanna mess anything up between us. You’re…you’re too important to me to risk that.” MJ feels a smile pull at his lips and warmth rising to his cheeks.
Peter looks so…vulnerable and terrified as he continues, exhaling shakily. “You’re so important to me, MJ. I just need you to know that. I…I wasn’t sure if you’d feel the same way, I’m still not sure, and I didn’t want to scare you off or ruin the way things are now with my stupid crush—” MJ freezes because…what? Did Peter just say—
“Crush? What? What crush? Feel the same about what?”
Peter looks just as confused as he does, tilting his head. “...the crush on—wait, what do you think I’ve been confessing?”
“Nigga, I thought you were talkin’ ‘bout you being fucking Spider-Man.” Peter gasps in shock, his hands immediately flying up to cover his mouth. “Spider-Man? How did—no, no I’m not uh, Spider-Man, I mean, have you seen me? I’m not—No—”
MJ shakes his head, a frown forming on his face. “Wait—go back, you got a crush on me? You like like me?”
“Actually—just ignore everything I said, why do you think I’m, like, Spider-Man?” Peter asks indecorously, and MJ is so confused now because Peter actually likes him.
“Why wouldn’t I? I mean, you obviously force a fake voice, but all your manners and little quirks are the same. The rambling, the awkwardness, the way you say my name—Y’know I take notice of you, right, Peter?”
“The way I say your name?” Peter chokes, his face steadily flushing red. “Yeah. Despite the whole…spandex suit ‘n shit, you have the same tone, same…way of saying my name. That’s when I realized.” MJ says softly.
Peter sits there tense and in shock as a beat passes. Its probably dawning on him that he can’t lie his way out of this one or continuously deny anything anymore. He practically deflates as he sighs and stares up at MJ with the most pathetic look ever. “I thought I was being really subtle. I knew I shouldn’t have asked for your name, but I knew if we ever ran into each other again I’d end up slipping up.” He groans.
They fall back into silence, MJ letting Peter mope for a bit. His brain is really only focused on one thing. How did he find out that Peter is Spider-Man before finding out that he has a fucking crush on him? MJ still can’t believe it because, well, for starters, it didn’t seem like Peter ever saw him in a more than friendly way. Not that he was actively looking for any difference like that, MJ was too busy focused on finding out if his suspicions were correct. Blinking himself back to the present, he finds that Peter’s eyes are on him.
MJ crosses his arms, “So…you have a crush. On me.”
Peter immediately groans, “I was sorta hoping we’d just…ignore all of that.”
“Spill your guts, Parker.”
He drags a hand across his face as he hesitates before speaking. “I like you. Like, a lot, MJ. I was afraid that if I said anything you’d…I dunno, hate me, and I didn’t wanna risk that.” His voice is quiet and it shakes slightly. MJ can see the fear written in his eyes, like he genuinely thinks that MJ could hate him for something like this.
For a second, he’s silent, thinking over what to say.
“I like you, too. I have, for…a really long time. You realize I don’t do the same shit for everyone, right? I’m not close with anyone else like I am with you.” Peter stares at him, his brain visibly buffering as he tries to come up with words to say.
“I—well you always act like that—like you! And you also have, like, no actual friends. Besides your roommate and me, so how was I meant to know?” Peter protests weakly and MJ rolls his eyes.
“Fuck you, I don’t need friends, and well, duh, but its clear—at least to me—that I act differently with you,” MJ says. “I guess I’m just too subtle. Maybe you should start taking notes.” He says, knowing damn well that Peter was subtle in his own way with hiding his crush.
A choked, little noise comes out from Peter as he stares up at him, clearly unsure of what to do. MJ didn’t think this day would go like this.
“...you aren’t…freaked out or anything? That I’m—” Peter hesitates for a second, his voice shaky. “—Spider-Man? You still like me?”
And…MJ can clearly tell that Peter is pulling at the barest threads, trying to find some flaw in himself because he doesn’t actually believe that MJ likes him back.
“What’s there not to like?” Peter doesn’t respond to that.
Another pause, then, “...so, now what?” Peter asks quietly.
“I was thinking…we go out. We can—we will — talk later.”
Peter blinks. “Right now? Together?”
MJ tilts his head, raising an eyebrow, “Got any other plans?” Peter instantly shakes his head, his face lighting up within seconds as a big grin tugs at his lips. “No, no, not at all! I-yeah, we should go out together.” MJ looks down, trying to hide his own smile.
“Yeah, together.”