Work Text:
"Fuck," Peter grumbled, holding the side of his head in his hands. Peter had just tried to pick up a stray monopoly piece when he got up from under the coffee table and jabbed his temple into its sharp corner.
"Peter!" Mj exclaimed, rushing to his side. Peter felt a flurry of chills climb up his spine as Mj's hand swiftly brushed against his arm. The small hairs on his arm raised, prickling her fingers. "Hey, hey, come with me," she said, roughly grabbing his arm and yanking him upwards. "Let's get you a band-aid," she murmured, gently taking his hands away from the cut. The cold air meeting it stung like a hot stove, but the shadow of Mj's hand made him feel as cold as a winter's night. Her delicate fingers hung over the cut, slightly curling into his hair.
Someone cleared their throat. "Hello? You guys gonna stay there or actually get said band-aid?"
"Oh, yeah, right. Sorry Paul," Mj replied. "Bathroom is this way, follow me," her hand still firmly attached to Peter's arm. Paul was Mj's boyfriend. She had met him in one of her classes at MIT, at a time when Peter was the furthest thing in her mind, nevermind him being there at all. He was one of the guys who if you passed them down the street, you would give them a second look but not in a way of interest — more so in a way of admiration. He had a way of carrying himself that Peter wish he could emulate. The way he dressed, his articulation, and the way he caught Mj's eye. The way he used to be able to do.
"Watch your step," Mj said, breaking the heavy silence that started taking stage. Peter winced, feeling his cut throb with each hitch of his heartbeat, which in Mj's presence, was quite often. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, his hand working before his mind as he swiped it away, once again interacting with his cut.
"Peter!" Mj exclaimed. "Stop touching it. Here," she said, grabbing a tissue. "Use this for now. And DON'T take it off until I tell you to." Peter stayed silent, simply applied pressure with the tissue and nodded in agreement. Peter slowly sat on the lid of the toilet seat, his elbows digging an imprint onto his knees.
He angled his head ever so slightly so that Mj was directly in his direct view. The warm lighting radiating from the overhead light made her hair look more auburn than usual, highlighting each and every independent curl. She looked as if Davinci himself had painstakingly taken the time to draw every intricate curve of her face, her lips slightly pouting as she looked for the magical box of band-aids. The chain around her neck glowed with the moonlight flowing through the open crack in the window. A slight breeze danced its way into the room, gently playing with her hair.
Damn you Paul, he thought.
"Finally," Mj sighed. "They were way up top, had to feel around for something box like."
Peter let out a giggle. A short one, but an audible one. His cheeks suddenly turned as red as his cut.
Mj gently put her hand on Peter's as she took away the blood soaked tissue. "You really did a number on yourself there, big guy." Mj threw the tissue in the small trashcan neighboring the toilet, and lowered herself to her knees.
"Mj, I, I don't think-"
"It's okay Peter, let me do this. Please," she said in an earnest voice, cutting him off. "Come closer," she whispered, the band-aid hanging on her finger like a limp caterpillar.
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.
"Come closer." As in close to him? Peter? The loser in her bathroom who basically tripped on air and headbutted a coffee table? Him?
He slowly hunched his back, so that his face was only a mere inches away from hers.
"Before I put the band-aid, I have to disinfect it," she stated, holding out a small bottle of rubbing alcohol. "It might sting a little, but you've been through worse. Right?" A wink was made in his direction.
"R-right," he mumbled, trying his best to hide his grimace.
After a year of nothing with the literal love of his life, the life he once knew, he was now at eye-level with her; him with every single memory they shared, cherishing what they had, and her with none whatsoever. How did his life come to this point of utter cruelty? Sure, it was his decision in the end, but it was either him or them, and Lord knows he would rather erase himself than let the people he cared about get an iota of pain inflicted upon them. If he had to live the rest of his life in pain knowing his loved ones were safe, it would have been a life well-lived.
"Okay, you ready?"
Peter nodded.
"You'll feel a small sting-" "
Fuck," he groaned. His hand traveled to her knee and gently squeezed it. His eyes reflexively shut firmly, his teeth grinding in pain.
"Hard part is done. I'm just gonna put the band-aid on and you're all good!"
Her thumb gently pressed at the beginning of his cut where he felt the band-aid being placed. He felt the shadow of her finger washing over him as she pressed the other side of the band-aid into his temple. Mj softly blew over the cut, her hand gingerly falling to meet his chin. Her thumb brushed over his cheek, giving him a rush so strong he thought he would pass out.
Before he could register what his hand was doing, he felt the coarse material of Mj's chain under his fingers, the material grazing his calloused fingertips. Looking down, his eyes jumped from her lips to an unusual charm attached to the chain. The charm he gave her. The Black Dahlia. The rhinestones positioned in the middle of the flower shined like the stars in a far away galaxy.
Mj noticed where Peter's eyes were taken to, and started to fiddle with the petals of the flower. "I, uh, I think you gave me this. Everything's a little fuzzy still, but I, I know it had to be you."
Peter looked up, his eyes meeting hers. The small speckles of chestnut surrounding her iris gently sparkled in the light. His hand made its way up her neck, slowly placing her hair behind her ear.
"Mj, I-"
Before he could finish his sentence, her forehead met his. Their noses collided, and their lips parted. "Shh," Mj whispered.
Every thought, every doubt, every fleeting inkling of envy slipped from his mind at once. The "I don't love you, I don't even know you" felt like a horrible nightmare long gone, and the Jean Gray fiasco was simply a fight fought in a blink of an eye. All he could feel was the pressure of Mj's lips against his, the smell of her coconut shampoo, and an ever-consuming feeling starting to take over him. He closed his eyes as Mj's eyelashes slightly tickled his nose. Peter kissed Mj like a man starved, like a wolf on the prowl, like a spider circling the prey stuck to its web.
All he ever wanted was to feel whole, and Mj made him feel human again. As if he was someone worth worrying about, someone who deserved an audience.
Unfortunately, Peter could feel his heartbeat in his ear. Literally. He felt each aching beat of his heart in his eardrum, and each one of his heavy breaths in his head. He knew he was getting overstimulated, but he couldn't stop. He had wanted this for so long and damn him if he'd let himself ruin the moment. That, however, didn't mean an unwanted figure couldn't ruin it for him.
One step. Another. Each one closer than the last, the unsteady floorboards creaking under the individual's weight.
Peter quickly pulled away, his hand still attached at Mj's neck. He could feel her pulse beat under his thumb.
Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump
A strong, steady rhythm, showing no inclination of nervousness or fear.
"Mj, I, I'm sorry. I-I have to go," Peter rambled, standing up at the speed of light and heading towards the window. "Tell Ned I forgot I had something to take care of ," he paused. "For work."
Mj, still kneeling down, looked at him in silence, mouth partly agape and lips slightly swollen.
"I'm so, so sorry Mj. I- I shouldn't have. I'm so sorry," he expressed, apologizing profusely. "I can't, I- I, I can't."
"Peter! Wait!" Mj said, scrambling to get to her feet. But by the time she looked up, he was already gone, the window exposing a bigger crack than before.
"Mj? You okay in there? You guys have been gone a while." It was Paul, his voice ringing in her ears.
"Yeah," Mj yelled. "I'm okay!"
The door's hinges creaked as she opened it. "Where's Peter?" Paul asked, tilting his head to have a better look of the bathroom.
"He, uh, he left!" she exclaimed. "Said he had a work thing to take care of."
"Oo-okay, well hope he gets that figured out," he said skeptically. "You gonna finish the game with us?"
"And miss a chance to beat your asses? Absolutely, you're on."
"Ned, watch out. She's back with a vengeance."
Mj ignored his statement and just sighed. She looked back at the window and saw a piece of Peter's webbing hanging from her windowsill.
What had they just done? And why did she do it?