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The bass is heavy, too loud and oppressive for the pop song the DJ is trying to turn into a dance anthem, oppressive. With the amount of alcohol in her, a few too many shots away from any of this being a good idea, the music compresses her common sense. It’s why she’s still here when normally she would have left an hour and two drinks ago, when Adeep was leaning next to her with that puppy-dog eye that she realises is now part of ‘her type’ saying that he wanted to head back.
“Ned’s buddy will keep an eye on him.” A two-fold admission that A) Adeep likes Peter, because while he doesn’t fully understand where Peter appeared from, simply accepting Ned’s habit of picking up strays and turning them into friends, he recognises a ‘good guy’ when he sees one, and Peter Parker was exactly that. It also meant that B) Ned didn’t seem in the mood to be leaving any time soon. He was on the right side of tipsy, bouncing along to the music and cajoling Peter into similar movements with the rest of their group whenever he seemed to spend too long lingering on the edges. The apartment would be empty.
Adeep’s plan sounded fun. His words warmed her through and had her lean into him with a smile as she pecked the corner of his lips. It would be the perfect end to a good night if she let it, but then the music had changed, a song that had haunted her college days that had Ned calling her name from somewhere in the ground, bounding over to her. The nostalgic, giddy part of her that felt college was decades ago rather than a single year, waiting to bottle up that feeling for just a second let herself go with the force of her best friend, looking at Adeep with a pleading look of her own.
“Just a little while longer?”
“It looks like you’re having fun. Kind of embarrassing for you.” He teased, following after her dutifully. They both brush past Peter Parker. Adeep slapped one hand on his back, hauling him forward to join them before he leaned forward and joined the cacophony of shouts in MJ’s ear, singing along out of tune.
It was embarrassing to be the loudest group on the dancefloor, and absolutely perfect, and it should have been there that MJ followed through on her promise to call the evening quits. Instead, she followed Ned to the bar to get a glass of water and ended up with a Sambuca in her hand.
“He’s never had it.” Ned said conspiratorily in reference to Peter. MJ gave him a mournful, apologetic look, but dutifully took her on shot along with him, laughing at the immediate gag from Peter. Just because she refused to let him suffer alone didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy his pain. She contained multitudes.
It began a cycle of dance and drink until they were poured out into the street so that Nate could have a cigarette and Ned could sweet talk his dealer because ‘Peter’s never smoked’. With the whole spider-thing, MJ wasn’t sure that Peter could even smoke but his protests had fallen on deaf ears. MJ was leaning into Adeep, arms wrapped around his waist as they listen to Nate tell Peter about some work gossip.
There is more entertainment in watching Peter try and remain interested or even follow the narrative that Nate is weaving than actually listen herself. It’s likely something she’s already heard. His eyes are somewhat glazed over, shoulders high and nodding at all the wrong points, checked out for the most part until–
“It’s why I wanted MJ to join. She’d chew ‘em a new one, but slipped through their fingers, didn’t ya?”
Peter’s head spins immediately, tilting to look at her. Adeep stills beneath her. She doesn’t think anything of it. “What?”
“You know that they just ousted like a whole block of project housing to make room for their new data centre in Red Hook?” MJ tells him. “I couldn’t work for somewhere like that.”
“I can.” Nate says before he holds the cigarette between his teeth then takes a bow dramatically. “And I thank them for making my 401K sweet as fucking pie.”
MJ scoffs and rolls her eyes. “You’re disgusting.”
“I’m employed.” He counters. “How’s the coffee shop?”
“Sweet as fucking pie now I won’t be giving you my discount.”
Adeep gently shakes her shoulder, making her look up at him. “You turned the job down?” She nods. “I thought you were considering it.”
“I was.” She tells him slowly. This. This is the point where she should have shut up and gone home. “Then I stopped considering it and turned it down.”
“Yeah, but why?” Adeep asks, moving her back a little to look at her properly. MJ gestures back to Nate as if to refer back to the conversation they had just a second ago. Adeep sighs, thumb pressing hard at the crease between his brows. “That’s not a reason though. I thought you wanted something more serious than the Bean.”
“I do.”
“Then why aren’t you acting like it? I want to support you, I’m there for you, Em, but fuck. You don’t tell me shit–” Adeep only swears when he’s been drinking. They shouldn’t be having this conversation now, but MJ’s good mood has swung in the opposite direction. All her desire to stay out has switched into a vicious kind of determination focused only on her boyfriend and this conversation.
“I just did!” She hadn’t really. She’d been unfair, keeping this from him. ‘Withholding’, because she knew that he would be disappointed that their grand plan to find a nicer place and move in together would be put on pause once again. It was the sort of conversation that was meant to be had in private, not blurted out while drunk. Mistakes happen. She should put a pin in this until tomorrow when they can speak calmly. “But please. Tell me how I’m acting.”
She doesn’t.
“Like you don’t have any ambition anymore!” Adeep huffs.
Out the corner of her eye, she can see Nate grip Peter’s arm and attempt to pull him away. It takes three solid tugs before Peter gives way to the force. The words ring out in MJ’s head. They should have ended the night long ago, and with this– it isn’t going to end any time soon. Her mouth starts forming words before her brain can catch up and tell her it would be a better idea to leave this until the morning.
–
It’s 3am when she finally arrives back to her apartment. Her emotions are frayed, her eyes still stinging from tears she didn’t shed and her head hurting from the rapid come down of alcohol and adrenaline. The crash making her feel worse by the minute about the night, about the fight and the way she spoke to Adeep, how he spoke to her and why they had to talk about any of it at all. It sours her mood further, if that were even possible, thinking that not even the comfort of her bed could fix her.
She opens the door, careful not to slam it shut for Ned’s sake but throws her keys on to the counter nosily. Her shoes are kicked off on her route towards the kitchen. She fills a glass up once with water, downs it then repeats, spinning to face the lounge as she nurses the second, only to be met with the sight of Peter Parker sat on her couch, blinking owlishly in the dark.
Fucking great.
“Sorry. Didn’t realise you were here.”
“Ned didn’t want me–” He waves the conversation away. It’s self-explanatory from that alone. It’s the sort of thing Ned would do. He cares. He orders five Bahn-Mis because Spider-Man is in their own. He lets old best friends back into his life easily because he’s kind and patient and doesn’t snap. “Did– Are you okay?”
MJ tilts her head back to look at the ceiling. Peter is nice. Since Ned remembered, he hs actively been putting in the work to be there. He is trying to fix something that MJ has no memory of him breaking, and by Ned’s measure, seems to be doing it well. She just– It’s weird. That she doesn’t remember, and he does. It’s a large cloud that looms over every single instance he is in their apartment because every conversation she wonders if this was how they used to speak, and if she’s leading him on with some sort of familiarity that she has no idea about. It’s all too complicated for any day of the week, let alone now.
Peter is nice. He is also the last person that she wants to speak to about this.
“I’m fine.”
“It’s okay if you’re not. I could tell things were–” He clears his throat. MJ inahles, trying to keep her frustration in check. The darkness makes the damp patch on the ceiling look sort of like Elvis. She tries to fixate on that and not on Peter’s attempt at kindness that feels all too fucking weird for her liking. “It sounded pretty bad.”
“I’m fine. I just want to drink my water and go to bed.”
Silence falls between them and MJ takes it as a chance to take a sip. She doesn’t want to go to her bed just yet, knowing that as soon as she lays down, the room will spin and she’ll be forced to do this anyway– or worse, sent rushing towards the bathroom to puke.
“For the record… I think he was out of line. With what I heard.”
MJ exhales, squeezing her eyes shut. “Because you know so much.” She murmurs to herself, forgetting that he has super hearing until he replies, “I know you’re one of the most ambitious people I’ve met.”
“Stop talking.”
“I don’t think he should have spoken to you like that.”
“I shouldn’t have spoken to him like that.” She counters, annoyed with Adeep and annoyed with Peter for making her defend Adeep right now. He was her boyfriend. Not Peter. Peter was a near-stranger, and her past self’s ex, he wasn’t an unbiased party. He was just meant to be a guest on her couch not inserting himself into an argument MJ didn’t want to rehash.
Peter continues. Of course he does. It must be something in being a superhero that has him tinking he needs to fix every little thing. All his words do is have her thinking back to their conversation on Frank’s boat, where he held all the cards, knew everything and still called her boyfriend a jerk. He had a perspective she couldn’t share in and opinions she didn’t understand and it was unfair of him to even joke about it, and continue on to that now because he thinks he’s defending her honour.
His head turns towards the door then back to her. “You’re alone.”
She doesn’t reply.
“He made you walk back alone?”
Irritation prickles under her skin. “That’s really none of your business.”
“Yeah, but he can– It’s not safe out there this kind of time. I should know. He can’t even walk you home? You should have called. I would have come to get you. We– Ned said it was best to leave you two, but we thought he’d walk you home. Next time, call me when he decides to be a jerk because a good boyfriend wouldn’t––”
“Because you were such a good boyfriend?” MJ shouts, cutting off his tirade. Silence falls once again between them.
He made her forget.
He broke his promise.
He has no leg to stand on.
It is callous and a little cruel, and the worst part of herself that comes out when she’s in a corner. She wants to have grown out of, is trying to get there and worst of all, it seems to take Peter by surprise.
She can’t see his full face in the dark, but notes the shadows consume him face more– crumpling slightly. The indication was clear– she never acted like this around him. Something in the back of her mind wonders if they were ever long enough to get to a fight. They were seventeen, facing college and from Ned and Peter’s retelling of events, facing so much more, it didn’t sound like they ever had time for a fight. They were kids, apparently in love, and maybe with so much bad happening around them, they blocked all the bad out for just a little bit.
“I swung you home.” He says softly, referring to the boat and Jean.
‘I don’t love you, I don’t even know you’. It remains true. He doesn’t know her either or he would have backed off.
“He walked me home. He just didn’t walk me up.” She snaps. The anger towards him isn’t fair in the same way Peter’s comments about Adeep aren’t. She isn’t angry at him. Not really. She is tired and frustrated and sick of people commenting on her and her choices– whether that’s with her career or her partner. “I–” She can feel another argument bubble up in her chest. She bites her tongue and shakes her head. Her glass goes down on the counter. “I’m going to bed.”
Peter doesn’t say anything, just watches her go. It annoys her more than it should and leaves her in a fitful sleep.
She eventually gives up on the idea of a ‘good night’s rest’ at six when her mouth dries out, the corner of her eyes are crusted and she can hear movement in the lounge. A part of her is surprised that Peter didn’t see himself out immediately after their argument. It seems like the type of thing he would do. He avoided confronting her for years with that note, what’s one morning in comparison.
There is a temptation to fester in her feelings and scowl at her ceiling, trying to convince herself that she was right or how she acted just a few hours before. The pit of guilt that balls in her stomach is just as big as any vindication she feels in that moment, however.
Eventually, she sighs and get out of bed. MJ has her bedroom door halfway open when she catches herself in her full length mirror, lips pressed into a thin line at the sight of Adeep’s shirt and the sleep shorts hidden beneath it. This is her apartment, she can wear whatever she wants, Peter is just a guest, but– MJ grabs her robe and ties it around herself out of courtesy.
Stepping into the living room, she catches him folding up the blanket, dressed in the clothes he was wearing last night, shoes already on. He was trying to leave and she caught him in the act.
“Hey.”
He freezes, looks up and swallows. “Sorry, I was just– didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s only fair. I woke you.” He gives a single breathy laugh, awkward and forced. “And you didn’t. Wake me. Don’t sleep well when I’ve been drinking.”
“Oh.”
“Coffee?”
“Oh.” Peter repeats, standing straight and shaking his head. “I’m heading out. Thank you. I’m fine.”
“I want to talk.” She tells him. A beat. “So. Coffee?”
“Yeah.” He breathes. “Please.”
She works in silence as she gets everything ready. He moves to the kitchen, leaning against the breakfast bar. It would almost be domestic if she couldn’t feel the heavy weight of last night’s conversation over them. A part of her wonders if they ever did have moments like this. Her parents wouldn’t have ever let Peter stay the night.
MJ pours them both a cup then hesitates. It’s a strange thing to realise and can see on his face when he registers her silent question that it bothers him the way it always does when he’s reminded of the depths her lack of knowledge goes.
“I take it black.” She nods and slides the mug over. She adds milk and one single sugar to her own. The prolonged quiet following that small, tender reveal makes him over-explain. It always does. Like he’s trying to make up for the years of silence and his inability to give her back what was taken. “It goes off too quickly. You know with me always out and about.”
“Right.” MJ nods, taking a sip.
Peter mimics her. No one speaks for a moment, and that guilt begins to return. She asked him to stay and now her courage is fleeting.
Get it together, Watson.
Her cup goes down to the counter. Her palms spread either side of it and she breathes. She clears her throat. “I wanted to say I’m sorry–”
As she expected, Peter is quick to interrupt her. “Oh, you don’t need to apologise. That was–”
“Let me finish. Please.” He slouches and nods, the fight temporarily drained out of him. “I’m sorry for snapping at you, and some of the things I said. I know you were trying to be nice, and I was taking something out on you that I shouldn’t have.”
Peter gives her a small smile and a weak shrug. “It’s okay… I sense a ‘but’?”
MJ returns his smile with one of her own, it comes out more like a grimace. “But I don’t think we’re in a place where you can comment on my relationship. At all. I don’t remember what you and her were, but you do. Which puts us in a weird position, especially because we’re not friends.”
“We’re not?” His voice has taken that wounded ache to it– the one she’s growing familiar with, that comes out every time she hits him with a harsh truth.
MJ tilts her head at him with a sad smile. “We’re friendly. You spend most of your time with Ned.”
Peter is quick to try and defend himself but stumbles over his words and right into the matter of the issue; “Because–”
It’s easier.
Because Ned remembers.
Because there is simplicity to their relationship even with the complicated ache that came with Ned realising Peter broke a promise to his childhood friend. The valley of friendship was an easier one to navigate than– well, whatever she and Peter were now.
It raises another question that she isn’t sure now is the time to ask, but they’re in a minefield regardless. This isn’t the worst misstep they could make given the circumstances. “Were we ever friends? Like the way you and Ned are?”
Peter bites his lip and looks down at his coffee. His fingers curl around the base and she wonders if he’s looking for something to do– a nervous habit th way he kept clicking legos together the first time they spoke so candidly, or because he’s seeking some warmth that she physically and emotionally cannot give him.
“Not really. We were friends. Casually I guess. Spent some time together after the blip and stuff, were in a lot of the same circles, but– I guess, before we could be friend-friends I had a crush on you? We started dating a little while later.”
It doesn’t get any less strange, hearing her life told from someone else with no recollection of it. She cannot even place when this might have happened. There aren’t blanks that she needs filling, no itch of familiarity in his words. There is nothing. Despite his past actions, Peter hasn’t lied to her since the truth came out. He has been honest, so while the words don’t ring true in her own ears, she believes him and they circle back to it all being weird again, because how can she trust someone else about her own past more than she can trust herself?
Trying to explain that to Peter leaves him looking crestfallen, and that hurts. She hurt Adeep, she hurt Peter and she hurt herself. She’s so tired of it.
“I just think… If we’re going to be anything like friends, right now I can’t have you commenting on my relationship because I can’t be certain where it’s coming from.”
Peter nods, understanding because without a doubt, he is a good guy.
“But you want to be? Friends, that is?”
MJ hums, shrugs. “I think it’s something we can work towards. And it’s ours, right? If we weren't like that before?”
He nods, seeming lighter with it. That stings in its own way too. How he can be so happy with so little from her all because of what she once was. It’s overwhelming to the point she wants to run and put more distance between them.
Suddenly, he pulls her thoughts away from the technicalities and the emotional turmoil with a single, simple question. “When did you start drinking coffee?”
MJ smiles tightly. The wording of it still makes her bristle in a way she tries so hard to fight. Peter is trying. This is an olive branch. A good one. But when. It is heavy with implication that something has changed– she knows that she used to exclusively drink tea and thought herself above coffee, always making fun of her sister for her breath first thing in the morning– but in her mind Peter Parker didn’t exist in High School. It is strange for him to ask when, but she can’t ask him to pretend either.
“Freshman year. Before Ned got us into the energy drink black market.”
–
The apology to Adeep is more stilted. There are actual cracks in their foundations that MJ skirts around and should be addressing, but she can’t find the words to tell him ‘I was and still am missing something, a lot of things, and I am comfortable in the person I am now, but do you know what it’s like to not know who you once were? And I know I could turn a blind eye to the bad just for a little while with every job I interview for, but why should I compromise the little trust I have in myself right now when I’m happy enough without it for the moment’.
The way he looks at her tiredly over coffee, accepts the apology for what it is but then asks, “I love you. I want to support you, I just… wish I knew what direction that was taking us?”
MJ has to bite her tongue.
Us.
The focus falling on to them as a couple, rather than him understanding that if her confusion was frustrating for him, could he imagine how it must feel for her.
Adeep is a nice guy, but he suffers from the same condition as so many others with his own inflated sense of self-importance. Truthfully, it is something she likes about him - his refusal to squash himself for others while remaining kind and sweet. It just annoys her right now.
Every couple goes through that, she thinks with a roll of her stomach. Instinct or anxiety that she swallows back.
“It’s taking me the long way round. I don’t want to lose myself in a job, and that means finding the right one.” She attempts to explain. “Ambition alone could get me a lot of places, not all of them are where I want to be.”
–
MJ gets a job as a graphic designer. It’s part-time, and it pays like shit because it’s for a charity but it fills the undesirable gap that her job at The Bean left in her finances. She has to lie a little on her resume because while she can draw and has some rudimentary knowledge of the Creative Cloud, she’s never done more than party invites and presentations on Canva. She should feel bad about the deception, but they’re not really paying enough for anyone with actual skills to apply.
It is temporary.
It has to be temporary.
The people are sweet and the work is relatively easy and the paycheck is nice, but designing menus for fundraisers, and brochures, or website assets is dull, artistically draining. She didn’t realise how important that was to her until she’s slouched on the couch with a blank sheet in front of her. She had big intentions of starting something, doing something rather aimless the way she always does when Ned and Peter occupy the coffee table with whatever they’re working on– it started as Lego then quickly escalated into electronics, web-head stuff, his AI. Ned was too astute to miss the corners Peter had cut with all his tech, and this middle-ground allowed Peter to let them in while keeping them at arms distance. It was a solid compromise for the pair.
Sometimes she joins them, most of the time she simply sits and lets their conversation wash over her while she occupies herself. Normally it would be fine.
But tonight–
“MJ, I swear, our couch is not made for that much movement. Can you sit still please.” Ned snaps, eyes flicking up from his laptop to her. She obnoxiously writhes on the couch a little more, knocking her sketch pad to the floor along with her pencil. Peter reaches over and sets it safely at her side.
“Didn’t stop you from fucking Kayla on it last–”
Peter’s mouth drops, head spinning agape to stare at Ned. “Dude.”
“MJ wasn’t home!”
“Until I was!” MJ huffs back.
Peter remains appalled and on her side. This is what Spider-Man is about, looking out for the little people and their disgusting roommates. “Boundaries!”
Exasperated, she throws her hands up and reaches back for her sketch pad. “Thank you!” Ned huffs and puffs, still trying to defend himself under this breath. Peter nods to her page. “Abstract, huh? A comment on nihilism?”
MJ gives a short laugh, “Something like that.”
Peter keeps his eyes trained on her face, watching for something that MJ wishes she could pinpoint. Blessedly, he doesn’t make any assumptions, only flattens his mouth, looks to Ned then back to her. “Wanna talk about it?”
Ned laughs. “Oh, MJ doesn’t do that. Art requires no explanation.”
“Fuck you.” MJ scoffs, kicking a leg out and poking Ned with her bare foot. He guffaws and bats at it, complaining about her toes. She complains about his behaviour. It feels normal, and Peter is there to witness it all.
As an added ‘fuck you’ to Ned, she offers Peter an explanation because he asked. “It just isn’t as fun now that it’s work. You know?”
Peter smiles, sincere and sad. “Yeah, I do.”
It strikes her then, with Spider-Man’s suit laid out on her table and her best friend tweaking his computer, a likely mirror image to something that happened when Peter was a child, that yeah– he probably does know what she means. Better than anyone. Because there is no chance that a fifteen year old kid understood the weight of his powers, he didn’t jump into the suit knowing that he would lose over, and over, and over again. At some point, Spider-Man stopped being a weirdo in pyjamas to a guy in an actual suit that New York looked towards, and suddenly she feels a lump forming in her throat at the thought of him handling that himself, alone, after he walked away.
He must catch the change in her expression, head tilting with concern. She needs to cut him off before he can ask something she doesn’t know how to answer. “What’s your secret?”
“Oh.” He says that a lot around her. Like every attempt to get to know him takes him by surprise just as much as the last. MJ doesn’t quite know what that means. His letter said she had a way of knowing when he was lying. How did they ever get to that point if she never asked? How much went unsaid between them. “Well. You know. Someone’s gotta do it. And– taking breaks helps.”
Her brow arches, looking at the mess they’ve made in her apartment. “This is a break?”
“Certainly don’t hear about Ned’s sex life in any professional circles.”
“Okay! Enough outta you– whatever bonding is happening there is done for.”
–
Being friends with Peter Parker is so easy technically that she almost looks down upon her past self for never getting the chance to do this. Sure, emotionally it is still an absolute disaster and every conversation is tinged with grief and a little bit of blame on both sides they won't address, but isn't that living?
Being friends with Peter Parker means accepting that plans will go awry, and ignoring the expectations she would put on anyone else. There is an 80:20 chance on any given day that he won't turn up to a function, it's annoying but it also means that he doesn't hold it against her when she fails to reply to messages for days on end.
She imagines that it might be annoying if she wanted more. It would probably be easy to get a crush on Peter Parker. He's handsome, quick witted enough that it isn't surprising he's Spider-Man, he's emotive and kind. She doesn't though, so they're all good, because at the same time, she could never imagine dating him. She tries a few times, to think of what her past self had done, and how they might have been. With every apologetic text, and every plan that is turned on its head to accommodate his broken ribs, she doesn't think that her as a seventeen year old would have been able to bite her tongue - Peter Parker wouldn’t have been a very good boyfriend. As a casual friend, he's amazing. He's the person who has the same awkward schedule she does while Ned and Adeep have their office jobs.
They catch movies during off-peak hours sometimes.
“Is your suit under there?” She huffs when Peter jogs up with his shirt askew and red peeking out.
“Where else was I gonna put it?”
“Your spidey-closet.”
“That was weak from you. I'm a little disappointed.”
“Well you're such a loser that sometimes I have to give you some easy ones.”
His face flickers, that ever present ache creeping to the foreground.
MJ sighs and nudges him towards the snack counter. He will pay for making it weird in overpriced popcorn. A small consolation for how her head starts to wander.
Being friends with Peter Parker makes her think a lot about who she was to him.
–
Sometimes being friends looks as simple as:
“For God's sake, stop fidgeting.” MJ huffs, needle and thread pinched in one hand, Peter's warm, clammy skin held down under the other. “I'm tempting to let you bleed out if you keep squirming.”
Peter frowns. He twitches under her grip again so she pinches his side. She isn’t so cruel as to stab him any harder with the needle. Truth be told the entire leaves her feeling nauseous. Gore from the safety of a screen - yay. The sight of Peter’s of tissue between the edges of his wound - gross, disgusting. Get it away from her. Why is it so much worse up close than anything she saw in her lectures?
“Ned has better bedside manner, you know. You could stand to work on yours.”
“I didn't ask you to die while he wasn't here!”
“I didn't ask you to saw me back together.”
“I'm gentle!”
Peter tilts his head from side to side, lifting his hand and wobbling it. “You’re a little heavy handed.”
Asshole.
In fact. Bleeding out doesn't excuse him from the truth.
“Asshole.”
Peter tips his head back, the laugh is too loud and bright for his current situation. Somehow there is a flush on his cheeks despite how pale the rest of him is. Something about it has her own face echoing it. There is a flip in her stomach that's different to the rolling sickness that she can’t shake with every sip of water she chases. It isn’t as unwanted. Her body trusts the sensation, letting it overcome her until she's giggling with him.
Maybe he had been sprayed by some kind of contagion. They should really look into that.
It makes her necklace burn against her chest.
–
Her break-up with Adeep coincides all too well with the beginning of Peter’s relationship with Tori. A part of, more than she would like to admit, worries that Peter will think it’s because of him. But they have more pressing issues to address. Namely that MJ does not like Tori, although that is none of her business, and secondly that the break-up hits her more than she expected.
MJ always thought she would never be the type to cry over a guy, but she finds herself sniffling on her fire escape while Peter is laid out on her couch after getting into a fight with the Black Cat– no she doesn’t want to begin thinking about the circumstances that had led to claw marks down his chest that would be deep enough to scar. It’s none of her business. All she needs to know is that they’re bad enough that Ned wants to keep an eye on him.
It’s meant to be her shift, and she would think she was doing a bad job of it if not for Peter climbing out onto the fire escape with a groan. He gives her a tissue and says nothing of how quickly she dabs her face with it, only murmuring that he ‘Really needed some fresh air.”
The silence between them isn’t so awkward this time. Peter has become such a staple in day-to-day life that she can block him out quite easily, finding some comfort in the warm body beside her. They don’t touch, heat radiating between their legs. It’s enough.
Eventually, MJs finds it within her to say something. “Do you think you can get Ned to stop?”
He makes a noise in the back of his throat, unsure and eyes squinting at the building opposite them. She tries to follow his gaze, but sees nothing of interest. He’s zoning out. Huh. She’d never seen him do that before, always so hyper aware of everything going on, aware of her.
“Gonna have to be more specific.”
MJ takes a breath, picks at the fabric of her sweatpants. They used to be Adeep’s. She wouldn’t say that she stole them, they ended up in her apartment before graduation and were unpacked here. They moved with her and thusly ownership was transferred. There are a lot of things like that. A near two year relationship that spanned and nearly survived two cities had a lot of souvenirs. Some were packed and handed back to him, the photos of him on her feed immediately archived and captions updated to remove him– a cleansing that her sister had promised would make her feel better.
(It didn’t, and twisted relief only came when she checked they hadn’t miraculously vanished from her archive.)
“Stop attacking him.”
Since news of the break-up, Ned had been firmly on her side. Two and a half years of friendship that had started with a joint project had been forgotten, a line had been drawn in the sand, and the more MJ revealed about their final conversation– a sad attempt at a fight from the both of them when they tried to find something like passion beyond the mutual respect they had for one another– the more he decided he didn’t like Adeep anymore.
It was sweet. It was immature protectiveness that warmed her heart, a reminder that through everything Ned Leeds would be firmly hers.
But Adeep’s only crime was that he couldn’t love her anymore, the same way she couldn’t love him. Their paths ahead were too different. She had just been willing to try for a little longer, and didn’t that fucking suck. In a way, considering who was sat next to her, it was fucking ironic too.
Right now, MJ didn’t want to think of Adeep as the bad guy, or rehash past arguments with a new perspective, reframing them to give her some kind of vindication that this was the right move. She appreciated Ned trying to make it all hurt a little less, but she just– She wanted to be sad that things didn’t work out with a good guy, not be sad that she wasted time on a bad one.
“I think Ned’s… coping with someone he thought was a friend hurting his best friend.” Peter replies tactfully, essentially saying that ‘no, he couldn’t stop Ned, no could really’. “Plus. He was kind of a jerk. So sort of deserves.” MJ shoots him a teary glare. Ever since that night a few months ago, Peter has been good at not treading the rocky ground that comes with commenting on her relationship. His hands immediately go up in a surrender. “Sorry, thought the statute of limitations had run out when the relationship expired.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Noted. Let me rephrase then; I personally am annoyed by your break-up because I was working up the courage to ask what he does with his hair. His hair was soo good, man. You know? It was obnoxious how he got the swoop to sit so nicely–”
“You called him obnoxious.”
Peter offers her a lopsided grin and tilts his head to the side. “While complimenting him. That’s what you wanted, right?”
“From Ned.”
“I’m an extension of Ned.”
MJ scoffs, the sound wet and phlegm from her tears, but it breaks the mood ever so slightly. “I don’t even know why I’m side about it.” She murmurs, wiping her eyes once again. It’s unfair to be laying this on to Peter. The same way everything is unfair because there were still exes once, and she still doesn’t remember, and while they’re something like friends now, it doesn’t erase everything she’s forgotten. MJ just convinces herself momentarily that its fine because Peter has finally moved on. He has Tori now so everything is on the table. That doesn’t make it true, but for once he might actually be the most unbiased party she can speak to about this. Both Ned and Gayle would jump to MJ’s defence. Her friends from the coffee shop are no doubt sick of hearing all the ways MJ had been trying to make it work. Peter, and the enforced distance she put between him and his opinions, is the only one she can lay it all out for. “I knew it was going to end. I was thinking about it myself.”
“So why didn’t you?” He asks gently.
MJ shrugs. She has always prided herself on being able to do the hard thing, the right thing, where honesty like a weapon and a shield, but sometimes– “There’s comfort in holding on?”
Peter hums, nudging her shoulder with his. Understanding. Something in her lets their legs move close together so they are pressed side by side. It is nowhere near the same kind of heartache, the shape of it only barely recognisable in comparison to his, but there is a little bit of an opening to him through her own pain that she can see more clearly.
“I think it’s okay to be sad about it though, even if you knew it was going to end. Even if he was, to some people, a bit of a jerk. Because it means you cared.”
“Caring sucks.” She mumbles.
Peter lets out a soft laugh. “If you believed that, you’d still be ‘expecting disappointment.”
“How’d you know I’m not?”
“Someone who held out for ‘something big’ isn’t worried about disappointment. Sorry to say, but I think that’s called hope.”
“Or avoidance.” She huffs because it shouldn’t have taken her over a year to find a job after graduation. Or rather, decide on a job since she’d held her position down at the Bean almost from her first day back in the city. Now she’s at a start-up that’s an off-shoot of a bigger and badder entity, but she’s been looking for a year now and none of the companies she interviewed with have changed their ways. By hell or high water, she’s decided she’s going to make something big.
Peter’s laugh picks up, bigger and brighter than before. “Meet you in the middle and say it’s a little bit of both.”
“Got it. Hope is avoidance. Fantastic lesson, thanks Spider-Man.”
“Never claimed to be a teacher.” He shrugs, leaning back with a small, pained sigh. “If I were, I might have learned a lesson or two by now.”
Her eyes drop to his abdomen, the shirt he is wearing is borrowed from Ned, there are bandages underneath that he's probably bleeding through, but Peter only lets them treat him once before he starts being the quote-unquote annoying patient that they barely tolerate in their Spidey Specific Clinic.
“What lesson did the Black Cat try and teach you? That there’s no ethical billionaires and divvying up their riches is only fair.”
Peter scoffs, any softness in his eyes twisting into accusation. “She might agree with you on the first part, but her name’s not Robin Hood–”
“Because of copyright–”
“You can’t claim copyright on vigilantes. And the only person reaping the benefits of what she’s doing is her. She plays the whole field so that she can always come out the winner. That is not Robin Hood.”
MJ’s brow lift, noting the level of frustration and exasperation seeping into his voice. It reminds her of when he talks about the Punisher, or Jean– the people he sees good in, the people he expects more from. “You put a lot of people on pedestals, you know.”
“I don’t.” He replies immediately. “I just… care.”
MJ lets it sink in and looks over to the opposite building. The couple in the apartment directly level with hers is watching a movie together on the couch. The backs of their heads bent together. If they turned around, they might see Peter and MJ and think they’re doing something similar. They couldn’t be further from the truth if they tried, and isn’t that the funny thing about perspective.
“Sometimes that’s too much for people. When they’re not used to it.”
Silence falls between them, like it always seems to do because there’s so much unsaid that with every passing day, feels like it never will be. It’s been over a year since Peter came back into their lives, and still MJ doesn’t have her memories.
“Are you?”
“Hm?”
“Used to it?”
MJ turns to look at him again. His big brown, puppy-dog eyes that are definitely a characteristic of her type. His sincerity written across his face, and his desperation to know her. Not the one from before, but a genuine interest in the now.
“I think so.”
Peter Parker has invaded her life, he has settled into the cracks and is a part of her routine– no longer just an accessory to Ned, but one she seeks out. The undercurrent of their relationship will always be there until her memories come back.
–
The thought of kissing Peter crosses her mind a couple of times.
MJ prides herself on her observation skills. That comes with the unfortunate side effect of that. He is handsome. There’s no denying that.
It mostly strikes her on nights like this where he's hauled himself over to their apartment and instead of arriving through the door, he perches on the railing of her fire escape, head ducked and feet kicking. His head is ducked.
If she checked the spidey tracker, or the news, she would see that it had been a hard day. One that forces him to take a moment and decompress before he sees them. He lies, says he's finalising something when they ask, so she never does.
From her window, she has a perfect view of his back and his shoulders. She follows them down to his trim waist. The suit is looser than she remembers, brighter even with the daily wear and tear it sees - the upkeep of it is a labour of love as much as it is a chore- but it hugs him still, extenuating his broad shoulders and muscled biceps. From her window, with his head bent down to the street, she can appreciate the view of him and feel completely disconnected from any weirdness. From here, Peter Parker is just an object to be viewed and it only once she crosses the border of the window sill does that change.
MJ steps out on to the staircase, leans her forearms against the railing next to him and just watches as he breathes. It brings a strange comfort to her as he inhales and exhales, aware of her presence but not doing anything to hide his quiet.
Eventually the mask comes off but his head doesn't lift. His eyes remain fixed on his hands, leaving her to worry who he couldn't save today. Refusing to think too much about it, she focuses more on his face, the strength in his jawline and how it ticks when her shoulder bumps into his.
The thought about kissing him comes when his eyes slide over to hers, finally and all she sees there is not the heavy weight of the day but a soft expression. Relief. Pure and true. Happy and grateful. MJ has done nothing to earn it except stand beside him without saying a word but it makes her feel so damn special.
It is the sort of look that leaves her burning. It makes her want to lean over and press their lips together to turn that burn into a fire. It is primal and driven by need. It is nothing born from any real emotion. Her need to care for something takes the shape of desire.
The feeling only worsens when he finally says something, a dumb, soft little “Hey.”
“Hi.” However, MJ has self control. Whatever temptation there is to close the gap between them and cross the line that she put firmly into place isn’t worth losing what they’ve worked for.
“We’re gonna start charging you rent for the view.”
Peter’s smile turns into a knowing grin that forces her stomach to twist over itself. “You’d rather die than become a landlord.”
MJ raises her chin, nose going up to the sky as she jumps to the assumption she always has; when he talks about her, he’s referring to the past. “Maybe I’ve changed.”
Peter likes to prove her wrong, the licks of desire growing stronger every single time. In the back of her mind, she hears a ticking clock and is unsure if it’s timing how far they last until a cataclysm or counting down to something else.
“What? In the last twenty-four hours?”
–
Tori comes to one of their game nights after she and Peter have successfully been dating for three whole months. It’s more intimate than a party or a bar, just the four of them in MJ and Ned’s apartment until an alert drags Peter away.
MJ does her best at keeping Tori in the conversation. Really, but it all comes out superficial and dry.
“What do you do for work?”
“I’m a Junior Artworker for a design agency.”
“Oh, that’s cool. I draw too. Did some–”
“It’s not really drawing.”
“Right, no. I know that, but–”
“Peter said you were unemployed?”
“Recently changed that. I work for a start-up, finding new ways to repurpose the alien tech we’ve had access to.”
“Wasn’t there like a guy who made weapons doing that?”
“Well– yeah, but we’re not that.”
Tori ends that painful conversation with a simple; “Oh. Good.” Then pulls her phone out and leans back on their couch. It is Peter’s turn, and while Ned and MJ know that he isn’t coming back anytime soon, they don’t know how to tell Tori that dealing Peter out of the game is probably the best going forward.
–
Tori breaks up with Peter shortly after that.
MJ thinks it’s fair enough. She never voices that.
Ned thinks, “That was probably the least catastrophic break up you could have had. All things considered.”
Peter wishes they would all stop talking about it, so they do.
–
For someone who is only twenty-four, Peter acts like he is well into his sixties.
“Do you have an inversion table in your apartment?”
He is currently laid out on her bedroom floor. There’s a party going on in their living room, something that Ned had organised as an add-on for Peter’s birthday. They had already celebrated with takeout and movies, Peter’s preferred method of celebration next to completely forgetting the day existed, but Ned is conscious to keep pushing the poor boy’s boundaries and integrate him into society.
“End? No, the journey doesn’t end here…” Ned had said solemnly when he’d announced the idea. With his puffed chest, low, steady voice and raised chin, it was clearly a reference to something as it went over MJ’s head but managed to crack Peter’s steadfast resolve.
Their shared love of all things nerd was something that left MJ feeling on the outside of this friendship. Ned got his memories. He had all the inbetween while MJ was stuck always trying to fill in the blanks of conversations– sometimes that was a blessing, when problems needed a new perspective rather than rehashing the past– but for the most part, it only left her playing catch-up. Forever behind in some sort of race. The references only excluded her further.
Especially when Peter caved so easily.
MJ wasn’t one to wallow, though. She found ways to entertain herself,like leaning over and whispering “Whipped” into Peter’s ear the second Ned’s back was turned. The scowl she was shot, his face inches from hers, was all the amusement she needed.
She also got the satisfaction of knowing that Peter enjoyed these parties about just as much as she did joining her when she needed to escape to her room for just a couple of minutes.
“Why would I need an inversion table when I can just stick to a ceiling?” He asks. It’s the first sign of life from him aside from a couple of grunts and groans as he stretched out on her floor.
“Touche.”
She kicks his hip for good measure. He looks as though he is about to scowl at her again, the lines drawing together on his forehead but it softens a second later. “You look weird from down here.”
MJ kicks him again and it earns her a laugh like he’s won something from getting a reaction out of her. “You look weird all the time.”
Which is true.
There is always something off about Peter’s appearance. Whether it’s the scar through his eyebrow which forces the hair to grow at odd ends, or his lip being busted open, his nose at some new jaunty angle, or his hair stood upright from the mask. He is never phased by any of it though, never seeming self conscious of himself. Peter knows that he’s attractive. Uses it to his advantage often.
Somehow, that is all drained from him when he’s forced into parties.
“You know…” She starts carefully, wetting her lips.
“Uh Oh.”
She laughs softly. “You can tell Ned ‘no’ time to time. He’ll understand. Even when he busts out Lord of the Rings.”
Choosing to ignore the sincerity of the point, Peter points a finger up at her accusingly. “I knew you knew that reference.”
Her foot goes to connect with him once more, this time aiming for his waist. He catches it and holds her ankle, stopping her from moving anymore, trapping her. MJ decides to do the same time, keeping him in the conversation that he so desperately wants to avoid.
“I mean it. He can take it. He wants you to tell him no.” Peter sighs so heavily that she thinks he might melt into the floor. “And you’re clearly not having a good time.”
He squeezes her ankle. “Hey, no. I’m having a great time. You’re here.”
The lightness and the nausea are back in her stomach. If she’s being real with herself they’re called butterflies.
“Here is not the party.”
“It should be.”
“Well, it’s not, and Ned organised the real one for your birthday and you’re not enjoying this and you never do when he does stuff like this. Like the bars and the drinks. They’re not your scene–”
“They might be my scene.” Peter interjects. “I didn’t really have a scene before hanging out with you guys again, my scene was work. So even this is weird, and– I don’t know, Em. It makes him happy to do this, and after everything– I don’t know, I think he needs to do this, so I let him.”
“He needs to do this because he’s trying to understand what you actually enjoy. You’re not doing him any favours just pretending.”
–
The whole time that Peter has been in her orbit, she thought that her memories coming back to her would make things easier. The ‘then’ and the ‘now’ would be clear to the both of them, the imbalance finally sorted and while nothing might change, it would be something that they could tick off the list.
Eighteen months past their reunion and firmly friends in their own regard, she doesn’t think that she could begrudge him for any of it now. Theoretically, she knows everything, the memories would just be her own.
She suspected that the conversation would go something a little like:
“Hey Loser, sorry to interrupt your crisis of the week - what is it this time, anyway? Oh, Felicia's working with Tombstone. Oof. That sucks, buddy. Anyway. I remember everything. Shall we order takeout? I've got Ned's card saved to my account.”
He would then say something like: “Oh. Huh. You angry? You wanna talk?”
She would say: “Do you? You're a dick, and I'm hungry, what else is new?”
That is how it is meant to go when her memories returned to her randomly on an afternoon where the conditions were just right– a sunny day while she was sat up on the rooftop, a rainy day when he was swinging her away from a car wreck she'd nearly walked into while shouting in her ear she needs to ‘watch where she's fucking going’ with his accent bleeding through the words, or one normal morning where she puts on her necklace as she does most days.
It doesn't happen like that at all.
No.
Their entire being is built off awkward and jagged silences, it didn't matter that in the time they've grown closer, the quiet has started warm through. A promise that they don't need to say anything more because the other gets it. It should have stood to reason that her memories returning would fit into that kind of awkward, brokenness. The irony of it all being that she had predicted accurately how small a revelation it would end up being– not because of they had moved past the issue, but because there was something much bigger at hand.
MJ finds her ‘something big’ in the small start-up job. Her idea had been to turn the big ship of their parents company from within, making waves with the knowledge that yeah, she'd probably be fired but she would be doing it with a smile on her face. That– partially becomes true. She is certainly making waves by hiding in the CEO'S home office after tracing redacted files and shutdown whistleblowers all the way to a secret lab and a file titled ‘Devil's Breath’, a virus that could wipe out the city if it got out, and if everything she had found was to believe, the thing was missing.
Her something big could save a lot of people, and shut down a company. Her something big is the kind of thing people don't want to get out and protect with their (her) lives. Her something big is maybe something she should have shared with Peter and Ned now that she's trapped on a rooftop with no way down– hindsight might be 20:20 but her vision said the ground was really fucking far away.
She doesn't check the Spidey-Tracker. The app is pretty useful when Peter does that annoying thing where he pretends he's fine and leaves them to chase him down. Right now, seeing his icon on the other side of the city would crush her and she can’t risk letting the fight leave her. She has to hope. She needs to.
MJ dials his number. Hoping. Praying. She would do anything to get a response from Peter right no-
“MJ?”
“Where are you?”
The guards have spotted her out on the terrace. They shoot out the glass doors that she has feeble tried to keep between them. MJ lunches and forces a large sculpture in front of them. It won't stop them only delay them with how cumbersome it is to get around.
“Were those gunshots?!”
“Location, Peter!”
“FiDi. Where are you?”
“Nassau.”
“Two minutes.”
MJ makes the calculations in her head. It isn’t enough time. They’re already stepping out on to the terrace. Her hand is going up in a faux surrender. “You got one.” She says, dropping her phone and turning to sprint to the edge. Gunshots ring out, one clipping her arm and causing her to hiss.
She reaches the edge of the building and jumps. Her eyes are closed and she hopes. She has to believe he can do it, she has to believe he cares enough to push himself and do the impossible.
MJ can't bring herself to open her eyes, know she'll panic and if she does that half of what she’s seen up there will blur and she will lose the facts - if she survives - she can't open her eyes because she doesn't want to cry when she doesn't see Peter in his red and blue suit in her vicinity.
MJ replays everything she’s seen so far, repeats it once then twice then three times with her hear thundering in her ears then–
She crashes into something solid. Something warm and steady and she's certain it's the ground and that this is death. With that comes a flash of memories. She sees her life flash before her eyes in complete technicolour.
She sees her mom, doing her best not to cringe when MJ holds out a worm. She sees her dad clapping along to the dance she and Gayle are doing with their cousins to ensure a sleepover. She sees every class she's started, hiding away at the back, and her first day at Midtown High, a boy with brown hair and big glasses looking back at her. She sees that boy go through grief she doesn't understand yet. She sees her feelings for him grow even if she knows he’s a liar. MJ gets to see their first date in Prague. She gets to feel her clammy hands and her fast beating heart. She feels the swooping in her gut of a first crush and the overwhelming urge to cry when it all falls apart.
The memories are loud and tumultuous and shake her to her core until she realises that it is actually her who is being shaken. Literally. Physically. The ringing in her ears isn't the tolling sound of death but someone shouting at her desperately.
“Are you insane?!”
“Oh my god.” She breathes. Inhales. She's breathing. “Oh my god.”
All it took was a leap of faith. And hilariously, it isn’t the most important part of her day.
“Are you insane?!” Peter tries again. “What were you doing? You regularly jump off buildings.”
“Only ones you're nearby.” She says, noting the height and burying her face in his neck, terrified.
“I was not nearby!” His voice broken and stricken. He was scared. She had scared him. Makes sense. He loved her. Or he had once. She remembers his face the first time she fell, can't recall the second when Jean threw her body off the edge but remembers the delicacy of a tight grip, shaking her gently back to conciousness, refusing to let her go.
Oh god. They're still so high. The ground is still somehow within touching distance. “Can we focus on the thwip, thwip to a flat surface please?”
“Because now you have a problem with heights?!”
“Heights versus guns. I took the lesser evil.”
“Why were there guns?”
“Do I ask you about your work?”
If Peter weren't swinging, his hands would be thrown up in exasperation. “Yes! Frequently in fact.”
“Well.”
They land on a rooftop, Peter setting her down. She expects him to take a step back, give her the space he has always respected but his hands go to her arm immediately, concern dripping from his words as he worries and frets over and–
Now isn't the time.
–
The problem with having her memories back, is that it turns out there is not a casual or convenient time for her to tell Peter. Especially not with a possibly city wide contagion on the loose. MJ should not be as relieved as she is for the distraction while she pulls her thoughts together.
She is thinking about her personal problems, and people could very well die, and she can only laugh about it because when did her life come to these stakes.
Well.
Around two years ago.
Thankfully, Peter grants her a more blaring distraction in the shape of her bodyguard. He’s tempted to leave her in DeWolff’s custody but given MJ’s breaking and entering to even find this without any word to the police of her suspicions, they both decide that it’s for the best they keep some degree of separation between her and the authorities. Which leaves one other person.
“For a small girl, you cause a real fuck tonne of problems.” A gruff voice grunts at her as the door is pushed open to Frank’s boat, Peter a ball of frenetic energy behind her. A missing vial of a neurotoxin isn’t the sort of thing that requires heavy artillery, which means that Frank’s job is solely to protect MJ if any of her boss’ enforcement agents come looking for her to close that loop.
If anything, getting closer with Frank has only increased Peter’s desire to keep him and his friends in entirely separate spheres. The pair of them forced back into a room under not-so ideal circumstances is making him twitchy.
His arm crowds around MJ, shielding her from bumping into any rusted or damaged edge of Frank’s boat. It is a startling reminder that she has an open wound on her arm. Her attention drops, pulling her elbow in closer to her as a flash of searing pain shoots through her.
Frank watches her closely, ducking his head to keep contact with her eyes. “That's a hell of an adrenaline crash you're on, kid.”
“Can you stop?!” Peter snaps, voice firm and urgent. “Where's your first aid kit?”
Its passed to him with relative ease. Peter offers help she doesn't need but doesn't turn down into a seat, and oh.
The tables turn, and it is him who is taking care of her. Through the gloves of his suit, she can feel his warmth. His touch is so tender, her heart squeezes. When she hisses at the pinch of the needle, he's immediately murmuring apologies.
Peter outclasses even Ned's bedside manner. She has to wonder if they ever got to be like this in the before. Were there ever times when Peter got to ease his worries about them rather than just rely on their word. From her memory, the answer is ‘no’. Blissfuly, all she ever had was a few scrapes - that Peter still blamed himself for - but they never had a time like this.
His face is so close to hers that she has to turn away to stop herself from doing something stupid. She meets Frank's unimpressed stare, watching them like he is witnessing something painfully obvious.
MJ raises an eyebrow at the mess on his kitchen table. “Your hospitality hasn’t improved.”
“This ain’t the babysitter’s club. We ain’t doing this.” Frank grouses despite them being on his boat. She’s seen before that if he didn’t want them there, they wouldn’t be alive to tell the tale.
Peter sighs distractedly. “Frank, I need you to–”
He wouldn’t accept another instance of him only being around for the action, and MJ couldn’t sit here and let Peter clean up her mistakes. They were meant to be a team, and yes, maybe she should have tapped him in sooner, but that didn’t mean she was completely out of the game.
“--To contact that journalist you’re friends with.” MJ finishes for him, keeping her eyes fixed on Frank when Peter’s head immediately swivels around to look at her with a cartoonish pace. “We can’t go to the cops just yet, but we need to start working on how we tell people. This is something that could get brushed under the rug if no one gets hurt.”
Frank’s face pinches, before he points at her, addressing Peter. “Trouble.”
He doesn’t even know the half of it.
–
The journalist that Frank knows is not a journalist at all anymore, just a well connected woman by the name of Karen Page.
Karen seems like more trouble than MJ could ever dream of being from the long list of crimes– still active and some exonerated with the introduction of the new Mayor– but Frank barely says a word when she’s around.
Karen says she’ll get everything MJ has shared into the right hands, her own eyes lingering on the hulking body in the corner. She says nothing about him or his crossed arms and his low hung head. MJ bites her tongue from commenting that this is the most domesticated she has ever seen Castle.
For a short moment, it is nice to be the least complicated person in the room. It speaks volumes to whatever shit they’re contending with if her and her amnesiac’s dilemma is able to take the backseat.
She doesn’t look the gift horse in the mouth, but does poke the bear when they are left with just Frank and herself again. With Karen gone, Frank stands taller, he starts to move about the boat with the same disgruntled and angry energy as before. Something lingers over him, his shoulders hang down, his footsteps are heavy with the weight of things that should have been said but never were.
After Karen Page leaves, MJ stares at a mirror of what she could look like if she doesn’t find a way to speak to Peter.
–
It takes four whole days.
Peter saves the city. No one quite realises to what degree until the article comes out with MJ listed as an anonymous source. Her fingers tingle and her heart pounds from her place in Frank’s kitchen. For the first time since her graduation, she is abuzz with something, but has no definition for it other than the ‘trouble’ that Frank has prescribed her.
She helped people.
She helped everyone.
There are other things that she should say to Peter when his feet finally land in the dock, looking up at her from where she leans over the ship’s railing with a broad, exuberant grin. It falls to the wayside in light of her finding her place.
“That was fun!” She yells, excited and breathless like she had been the one to swing the span of the city and return with what looks like a dislocated shoulder.
“You’re insane.” Peter breathes, his whole body relaxing and loosening when he pulls his mask off to look up at her. “We’re never doing that again.”
–
To no one's surprise, Peter hovers once she's at home. He doesn’t even bother to make excuses for his lingering presence and MJ can't be bothered to pretend that she cares. She likes having Peter around.
However, it does mean that she struggles to find excuses for holding off their conversation any longer. Her memories stand like an elephant in every room that only she is aware of.
Ned can tell that something is up, constantly eyeing her warily and split between giving them space to work it out or ready to stand as a mediator between them. He clocks it three days after their return when Peter arrives in a shirt she could have sworn was destroyed in Europe.
A simple “didn't your luggage blow up?” is all it takes for Ned to understand grab her arm firmly and hiss in her ear “Tell him”. His subtlety hasn't improved with age so of course Peter hears and any choice she has in the timing is pulled out from beneath her feet.
It's sort of ironic, when she thinks about it.
“I was waiting for things to calm down a little bit.” MJ says as her opener. It only has Peter’s mouth twisting, the scar in the corner of his lip tugging like even that is displeased with the reminder of their week so far. “But uh– You know when I was leaving the rooftop–”
“Jumping to your near-death? Yes, I recall. Awful times. Hard to forget. Thought we were never doing that again.”
“Well. Heh. Funny you should say that. I had the whole ‘life flashes before your eyes’ thing.”
Peter’s face breaks, horrified and filled with terror as thought she is about to break apart right in front of him. “Em.”
“Not in a– like scary death way. I don't think. In a– I really trust you, and you came through way, and then, you know, maybe in a ‘oh my god, am I dead’ sort of way, but I saw it all, Pete.”
“I don't–”
“I saw us. I remember.”
Peter's whole body freezes. His face is indescernible. It unsettles her more than she thought it would… not being able to read him, and it hits her again how much it had become second nature to understand Peter Parker even in all their silences.
It leaves her feeling wrong-footed and off balance so her mouth starts moving before she can stop herself. “I should have told you sooner, I know, but it isn't a four year delay and there was the whole city wide disaster we were trying to circumvent so really I think I should get props for speaking up at all.”
“Does it change anything?” Peter asks.
There is a memory from their reunion, when he told her about Jean’s kiss in MJ’s body. He spoke in a similar way, unsure and worried, but unflinching in his determination to address what he believed he had to. MJ is proud to have a friend like Peter Parker, so avoidant with his own issues but when the time comes, finding it within him to be willing and able to grab the words and charge them ahead.
There isn’t hope in his voice, which is a relief. His shoulders are tense and up to his ears, concerned. The room is already thick with the muggy, humidity of the ship’s bowels and the tension only worsens her ability to breathe. She wishes they could stop having these conversations in Frank’s boat, but history has a way of repeating itself, which is why she finds her mouth forming her answer all too easily. “No.”
Her feelings for him haven’t suddenly changed. That wouldn’t be right when there has been a slow, steady growth that has been happening without her realising. These memories don’t mark a return to Peter Parker in her life, because she has been making him a place there for a while.
The memories are hers. They fill in the blanks, they finish the rest of the picture but MJ is still different from the person she was when she experienced all this. The lack of them shaped her, and the return of them doesn’t rewrite the life she’s lived. It gives her context– why she has always strived for a kindness and a greatness that had always felt a little too big for her hands alone– she had seen Peter do just that and had tried to support him through the worst of it, had encouraged him away from the edge when the anger crept in. She understands her hesitancy with Adeep better now; her relationship with Peter had been fast bloomed and deeply intense, nothing she regretted but something that she couldn’t repeat without exhausting herself.
And more importantly, she doesn’t want her high school self to overwrite what she has now. Too many times in their relationship, Peter acted on instinct and left her chasing after him. That much hasn’t changed massively, but he comes to them when it weighs on him heavily. They don’t have to pull it out of him, they just have to find him on their balcony.
It doesn’t change anything, because in the time she’s been missing these memories they have changed, and that is the version of things that she wants to move forward with– this time whole, and complete.
It doesn’t change anything because MJ loved Peter Parker already without them. She thinks she has for a while now.
“Does it change anything for you?”
“No.” Peter answers with a shake of his head, “I'm relieved, I'm happy for you, but--I've always followed your lead on this.”
MJ breathes, wetting her lips. She pushes up from the couch and pulls him up from his bean bag. He is strong enough to resist the tug, always has been, always will be but he goes with the motion, doing exactly as he said he would– following her lead.
“It uncomplicates things.”
Peter swallows. Up close, she sees something that might be hope.
“Does it?”
She nods.
A leap of faith.
MJ presses her lips to his.