Work Text:
Putting out a missing person report for my boyfriend. Description as follows: cute white guy, mid 20s, brown hair, brown eyes, average height, above average build (like way above average). If you’ve seen him, contact this number.
Peter huffs out a laugh at the text that pops up on his phone. It’s nearly 8 pm, and it’s the first time she’s reached out all day, and he knows that’s his own fault. He’s been cagey, not answering every text she’s sent or sometimes taking hours to if he did. He knows she doesn’t deserve it.
He's been found. You can cancel the report
Finishing patrol, on my way home now
Then he adds: Way above average, huh?
It doesn’t take long for her reply: I’m already on my way.
—
It’s Saturday night, and he hasn’t seen her since Tuesday morning. She left after work that night to head upstate to spend Thanksgiving with her sister. Peter spent it alone, which her and Ned both felt really badly about even though he begged them not to. Peter didn’t complain, and he also didn’t accept either of their invitations to spend it with their families. They both denied it when he joked about pity invites, but he knows it was partially the truth; it’s not exactly easy to rationalize who he is to those close to them, who don't remember him. There's history between them that no one else is privy to, and they have to be careful what they say around people who aren't in their little bubble. It’s complicated, and it’s something they're still working on a year later. He understands.
So MJ and Ned left the city to see their families, and Peter spent the night swinging around just for something to do before going home to a quiet apartment and a microwave dinner. Then he slept practically all day Friday.
It was hard to not fall back into the headspace he’d been in for the years before, even though so much had changed – he had texts pinging on his phone from their group chat, and a Facetime call from MJ before she went to sleep where she fondly detailed about all of the games her nieces forced her to play before their meal. Things he didn't have then, wouldn't have even dreamed of ever getting back. He has so much to be thankful for now, but it hasn’t been the easiest to rewire his brain into believing it’s permanent.
He knows he’s been withdrawn the past few days, and he knows MJ has noticed, too. The holiday season has always been the hardest for him, ever since May died, his best friends forgot who he was, and he was left to pick up the pieces alone. He hasn't told her, leaving her in the dark where she doesn't belong. She left back to the city late this afternoon, and it seems immediately headed to him.
Peter is just climbing through the window as MJ is walking through the door. He’d moved out of the asbestos-ridden attic he was inhabiting six months ago and into a more respectable apartment, as Ned had called it. It was only a few blocks away from where Ned and MJ were living, and he’d given them both a key in case of emergency.
He didn’t tell them the emergency would likely be him bleeding out on his bedroom floor, but he thinks they got the idea.
Then, Peter and MJ had been on the precipice of something neither wanted to put a name to just yet. Her memories of him had slowly but surely started to trickle back into her consciousness in the few months before that. It wasn’t all there yet, but it was enough. Nearly two months later, when she kissed him again for the first time, she’d quietly told him that she’d wanted to since even before the gaps in her memory had started to fill. He'd told her he loved her then. He'd sworn to himself he'd allow her to say it first this time around, if that time ever came, but he couldn't help it. She had echoed his words before he could even finish saying them.
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Peter says as he takes his mask off, latching the window closed. Understatement of the century. It’s been bitterly cold the past few days, and MJ is bundled up head to toe, her curls peeking out from under her beanie that looks suspiciously like his.
“I brought you dinner,” MJ says, pulling a Tupperware container out of her bag and placing it on the counter. She walks up and gives him a quick kiss, wrinkling her nose as she pulls back. “You smell like a sewer.”
“It’s ‘cause I was in one, if you can believe it.”
“Unfortunately, I can.” She grimaces, and it makes him laugh. “Go take a shower, I’ll heat up your food.”
He knows it’s nothing short of a miracle that this woman is standing in front of him, in his apartment, wanting to take care of him. The idea of it is something he would barely even let himself think about a few years ago, and now it’s his reality. Unreal.
“I really missed you.” He means it. He’s gotten too used to MJ being in his constant orbit. This is the longest they’ve gone without seeing each other since they started dating again three months ago, and even before that they’d at least hang out every few days with Ned. He almost wants to laugh at himself, at the absurdity of it all; a few days is nothing compared to the years he spent without her.
But that's not his life anymore.
“Alright, loverboy.” MJ rolls her eyes, but she can’t even hide the fondness in her voice. “It was barely four days.”
“Practically a lifetime,” Peter argues, which makes MJ smile. Mission accomplished.
Then she pulls him closer, tells him quietly like it's a secret, “I missed you, too.”
She takes her hat off, runs her hand through her auburn curls. Her cheeks and nose are reddened from the wind outside, and the corners of her mouth are lifting up into the kind of smile he knows she reserves for only him. “You look really cute.”
“Thank you,” MJ says sincerely, patting him once on the chest. “But flattery isn’t going to get you out of showering.”
“Come on,” Peter whines, wrapping his arms around her waist. She quirks an eyebrow at him. Like he said: cute. “I’m tired.”
“Even more reason to get it over with so you can go to sleep, then,” MJ points out. She gives him a tap on his butt, says, “Go.”
“If you think that’s convincing me to get away from you-”
“Peter.”
“Fiiiine.” He sighs dramatically. He doesn’t really mind showering, because the truth is he does feel disgusting. He just likes to poke at her, the same way does at him; judging by the smirk he can tell she’s trying hard to conceal, she’s anything but annoyed by it.
“Make it quick,” MJ says, squeezing his hip. “I haven’t seen my boyfriend in four whole days.”
Peter grins. “I knew you liked me.”
“Just a little,” MJ says breezily as she turns to walk back into the kitchen, if you could even call it that with how tiny it is. “I have to tell you though, Pete, the smell is moving the needle in the other direction.”
“I’m going, I’m going.” It must not be as off-putting as she says, because when he walks back over to her she lets him lean in and kiss her cheek. “Be right back.”
—
Ten minutes later, Peter is freshly showered sitting on the couch he’d found on the side of the street a week after he moved in here. He’d had Ned pretend to help him carry it inside to keep up pretenses in case any of his neighbors saw. MJ watched on in amusement.
Now she sits next to him, looking on her laptop for something to watch while they eat. He knows she’s likely going to end up picking a documentary of some sort, and his eyes want to close at the thought. Not that he doesn’t enjoy them, especially when it’s something that interests her, but he wasn’t kidding earlier – he is tired. He’s had an emotionally draining few days, but he can't expect her to know that, because he hasn’t told her.
He takes another bite of the vegetable pasta she brought over. The first time she had cooked for him, she’d explained that she started doing it in college as a stress reliever. She said she wasn’t the best at it, and she could only make simple meals, but she enjoyed it and liked doing it for others. Peter had to swallow his tears around a bite of chili, because it was the first time someone had cooked something for him since May. “This is really good. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Someone’s gotta take care of Spider-Man,” MJ kids, turning towards him. She lays her head on the cushion behind her, smiling gently. He knows it’s not really a joke to her. She’s worried about him, but she’s not pressing the issue yet. MJ is giving him the space to get there himself first.
Peter rests his hand on the back of her neck, squeezing affectionately. “Well, I’m glad it’s you.”
MJ’s eyes soften in the way he’s grown accustomed to when they’re looking into his. She leans forward, presses her lips to his tenderly. She pulls away before he can deepen it. “Finish your dinner.”
They're forty minutes into a documentary about a former British spy, his head in her lap and his eyes heavy, when he asks, “Are you staying?”
“If you want me to,” MJ declares, as if she doesn’t already know his answer. Though maybe she doesn't, considering the way he's been acting.
“Of course I want you to,” Peter tells her.
She moves her hand into his hair, and his eyes close on reflex. “Then I’ll stay.”
—
MJ is laying next to him in his bed, in one of his stupid science pun t-shirts he still has from high school. He’d kept them when he moved, and then moved again, and again, because they had reminded him of a simpler time. A better time. He didn’t wear them much, but there they sat at the bottom of his drawer. He’s glad he did, because now the girl he loves is wearing one, and it feels full circle in a way that forms a lump in his throat that he tries his best to swallow down.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” MJ asks him, like he’s been waiting for her to.
Peter sighs. “Not really. But probably should, huh?”
She touches his arm, says, “This is kind of what girlfriends are for. In case you forgot.”
Peter chuckles, which makes her own mouth stretch into a smile. “What, to dump my trauma on?”
The joke falls flat. MJ doesn’t laugh, and she isn’t really smiling anymore, either. She shakes her head. “Peter…”
“I know,” he says, frustrated with himself. “Sorry. I don’t know why this is so hard for me.”
“It's okay, it's okay. I'm not trying to pressure you,” MJ says, trying to calm him down, get him out of his head. “I just... I want to be here for you. Through everything, even the hard stuff. But I want you to want to share it with me.”
“I do,” Peter tries to reassure her, and it really is the truth. He wishes it was as easy as it sounds. It's been long enough that he should be used to people caring about him, asking what's wrong and actually wanting to know the answer, but he isn't quite there yet. "I promise I do.”
The city lights peaking in through the blinds reflect on her face, a bit of brightness in the dark. Her eyes shine, but he thinks that’s for another reason. Over the past year, she has been nothing but patient, kind, forgiving. She has given him more grace than he ever deserved or ever would have hoped for. All she’s asking for in return is for him to be honest.
“This time of year is really hard for me,” Peter starts, and he forces himself to look in her eyes even though every instinct is screaming at him to look away. She was already back in his life this time last year, but in a different way; it had only been a few months since she found out the truth, and Ned’s memories had started returning while hers hadn’t yet. He and Ned were focused on rebuilding their friendship, while him and MJ were just trying to find their footing around each other. He wasn’t willing to dump this on them then, and it was harder for them to notice him pulling back when they were just getting used to him being around again. “May’s anniversary, the holidays… I always struggle. It was like this last year, too. I just didn't tell you guys.”
MJ nods, biting her lip to stop it from quivering. He hates seeing her cry, especially when he's the one making her do it. It's happened more times than he wants to admit.
“I guess being alone the past few days has triggered something. And I’m not saying it’s your fault, or blaming you, or anything. I don’t want you to think that.”
“I know,” MJ says quietly.
“I should be able to spend a few days by myself without being sent into a fucking tailspin. I have you, and Ned, and my life is so much better than it was a few years ago. I’m so much happier. But sometimes… sometimes my mind tricks me into believing I’m going to lose it all again,” Peter admits, and he doesn’t even realize he’s started crying until he feels MJ wipe a tear.
MJ scoots closer, so close that her nose is practically touching his. She holds his face in her hands, promises, “I’m not going anywhere.”
Peter nods, and he hopes with everything in him that it’s the truth. He doesn’t think he could survive losing her again. He barely survived it the first time. “I’m sorry that I’ve been distant. I’m an idiot, honestly, because just talking to you would have helped.”
“Well, I could have told you that,” MJ says wetly, but she’s smiling, too. She's his whole heart.
“I’m trying to work through it. To be better.”
MJ rubs her thumb across his cheek, tells him softly, “You're the best person I know.”
Peter leans forward and kisses her. She is much more than he deserves. She wouldn’t agree, would fight tooth and nail to convince him he's wrong. She’s done it before, more than once.
“You make everything better,” Peter whispers against her lips, and she attaches them again before pulling back just an inch. “I really, really love you, MJ.”
“I love you, too,” she tells him, unwavering, despite the tears in her eyes. “So much. We’re gonna get through it together, okay?”
Peter nods, and he tries his best to let himself believe her.