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The rain hadn’t stopped since last night, it thinned into drizzle at some points and thickened until it was torrential, drenching everything in its path at others. New York didn’t suit the rain very well with almost every building having one leak or another and the usual grime on the street transformed into a borderline nuclear sludge that tarnished everything it touched.
Safe to say MJ had stayed at home the past few days, now she had a blanket wrapped around her as she sat, knees up on the soft couch with Ned.
He had put on some trashy romcoms from the 2000s that she secretly loved, but would never openly admit even though Ned already knew. By the time they were onto their third he had dozed off, 27 Dresses played quietly on the small TV in front of them. Ned was snoring so loudly MJ nearly missed it when her phone went off. She checked the caller id: Spider-man.
Shit, what had Peter gotten himself into this time. MJ tried to ignore just how much her hands shook as she answered.
Whenever he called it usually came up as Peter followed by a bunch of flower emojis much to his dismay, and she knew whenever Peter called through E.V. while in his suit it would always default to Spider-man.
“Hey MJ, sorry to wake you. This is a random question but do you have a big mirror and a first aid kit at your place?” Peter's voice was slightly strained across the phone and she could hear the rain thundering around him.
“Um, yes I have both, hang on one second” she held the phone against her ear with her shoulder, extracting herself from her spot on the couch as quietly as possible, leaving Ned somehow snoring even louder. After locating the first aid kit that was for some reason buried in the back of the Tupperware cabinet she made it to her room putting him on speaker. Even though she already knew the answer she asked, “Are you okay?”
“Not exactly, can I pop round for like half an hour? I can't see how bad my back is and I think I need to stitch it up.” a mixture of rain, wind, and the sound of Peter swinging across New York muffled his words, MJ could only really hear the first bit and quickly connected the dots between, bad, back, and stitches before responding.
“Oh my god, Pe-Spider-Man,” she groaned, equally exasperated and concerned, “yeah, yes come over, be careful!”
“You're a life saver, See you.” The line went dead leaving MJ more panicked than before, contemplating the fact that this was the first time he was asking for help, and more importantly how he hadn't gotten himself killed sooner. After pacing the room for a few minutes, she grabbed two glasses of water from the kitchen, a towel from the bathroom, opened the window, and tried to quickly organise the absolute mess of her desk, as if Peter would care with the state he was in.
Spider-Man hobbled through her bedroom window sopping wet about five minutes later and after shutting it, he removed the mask leaving her all alone with Peter Parker.
“We need to stop meeting like this,” Peter started, a weak attempt calming her fears .
“we can start joking after you’re not about to bleed on my rug”
“Fine, if you say so.” Peter stated his eyes scanning the room for the first-aid kit only to realise MJ was holding it.
With a burst of courage he kissed her cheek in thanks as she passed it to him, things had been changing between them since she stayed over at his and neither of them had objected.
“Was that okay?” He questioned, the two of them blushing.
“Yes, yes it was, but it would be better if you actually put the damned thing to use”
He opened it on the desk, scanning the contents to make sure he had everything he needed, poorly concealing his confusion on why two civilians had such a large first-aid kit in the first place.
“You can stay, I don't mind.”
“Really?”
“I’m sure, plus what if I pass out?”
“You’re serious?” her eyes widened.
“No” Peter chuckled lightly yet winced while trying to remove the suit, the movement of his arms pulling at the wound, he paused for a moment, “Sorry, can you help me?”
MJ found the invisible zipper on the back, she pulled it down letting the top half of the suit fall around his waist.
The gash stretched from his left shoulder down to the bottom of his ribs on the right, it wasn’t life threateningly deep, thank god, but the sheer size of it scared her.
“Fuck.” She dragged out, the smile slipping from her face.
“That doesn’t sound good, Em.”
“Have a look for yourself.”
Peter twisted around seeing the cut skin in the mirror. He tried to ignore how mottled his skin was with scars, how the scar from the gunshot stood out, the skin still loud and red even weeks later. He prayed that just for today MJ would brush past it, he could feel her gaze on his back, she didn't say anything and Peter was grateful. Not to push it, but if anything she should be proud of him for actually reaching out.
After failing in his attempt to clean the wound himself he groaned at the realisation MJ was going to have to help. She was going to despise this, so much to the point where he might have to start calling her Michelle again.
“You’re gonna hate me so bad for this, but did you ever have dreams of being a doctor?”
“No, do I look like the type of person who wants to deal with people every day?”
“Well now might be your chance to try it out.”
“What are you on about, Peter?” MJ really wasn’t a fan of where this conversation was going.
“E.V. will talk you through it if you wear the mask,” he hesitated before asking, “but can you stitch me up?
There was a deep breath, a raised eyebrow, before she spoke again, “You owe me big time.”
“Hey, I’m letting you wear the mask, people would kill for that!”
“And yet here I am trying to keep you alive.” MJ rolled her eyes
“I’m not dying, you’re being dramatic.”
“We can change that, I could let you bleed out.”
“You would never.” Peter gasped theatrically, hand over his heart,
“You’re right I wouldn’t.” She pulled the mask on and Peter only melted a little at the sight, so what if blamed his stumble to the bed on blood loss?
MJ had thrown a towel down to keep the soaking suit from ruining the sheets. He lay down against it, listening to the rustle of MJ unwrapping an antiseptic wipe only wincing slightly as she cleaned the wound. He could feel the smallest tremor in her hands as she worked.
E.V. directed her on how to prepare the needle through the speakers by her ears the screen overlay highlighting the position of where each stitch should go.
“You’re lucky I care about you this much, I wouldn’t stitch up just anyone.”
Peter only hummed in response, his jaw clenched trying to hide his pain, for once he succeeded as MJ was too focused.
She remembered back when she was fifteen and had to get stitches in her finger after slicing it open cooking in HomeEc. She remembered it hurt like a bitch and yet Peter had barely moved as MJ repeatedly stabbed him with the needle.
The sensation of piercing his skin made her want to gag but she pushed it down, Peter pushed through everything to protect the city, to protect her. She could get over whatever this was to save him.
Somehow E.V. registered her distress, the stitch guide paused as the automated voice offered to talk her through some breathing exercises. MJ accepted faster than she’d like to admit but Peter had asked her to do this she had to get it done properly without her never interfering.
It felt like hours had gone by when in reality only 30 minutes had passed before MJ tied the final knot, she pulled the mask off, her face flushed as she set it on the table.
“What’s the verdict, doc?”
“You’re expected to make a full recovery.” She gave him a lopsided grin, “ but let me get a first-aid qualification before you book again”
“Thanks, Em. I should probably get going now, get out of your hair and all that.” He looked up at her from his place on the bed but didn’t move an inch.
“Look, if you move too much by swinging you’re gonna break your stitches, and you don’t exactly have the clothes on you to walk home as Peter Parker. And E.V. said you should rest for at least 12 hours.” Her face hardened for a second, before softening at his response.
“Oh, Come on, you're putting the robot against me.” Peter tried to sound annoyed but the smile on his face foiled his efforts.
She arched an eyebrow at him, shaking her head affectionately, “You have to believe me, and you can’t ignore her instructions: you literally created her.”
“If you wanted me to say all you had to do was ask.” he said slyly.
“Can you stay then, Peter?”
He exhaled, no longer taunting, “Only if I’m not a bother.”
“I promise you you’re far from it.” She leant down pressing a kiss to his hair. “Here, borrow these, it's not like you’re taller than me.”
She passed him a pair of her joggers and an old over-sized sleep shirt that had a Little Women quote along the front, before turning around to give some privacy.
“I’m ready, what do you think?” he asked, gesturing to himself while grinning.
“Suits you,” she took in the outfit, both blushing as she laughed.
“I’m going to interpret that as a compliment, so thank you, Em.”
She crossed the room to her side of the bed, climbing under the sheets, as Peter tried to get comfortable, his back forcing him to lie down weirdly.
“You okay?” she whispered, switching the light off next to her.
As can be, better now thanks to you, Em.”
A small smile graced her lips as she faced him, “My pleasure, now goodnight, Peter. Sleep well.”
He reached out for once, holding her hand, “Sweet dreams, Em,” and for someone with enhanced senses he was out like a light sooner than later, their hands still intertwined.
At some point during the night Peter had let go of her and his mind’s creations had taken over, MJ was woken up by his tossing and turning. She switched the lights on, only then taking in the sheen of sweat coating his face, the way his face was scrunched in the sort of pain that wasn't physical, like his heart had been torn from his body in the name of love.
Peter whispered her name, and at that moment MJ knew she had to wake up, she shook him by the shoulders gently, it took a few tries but he was soon awake, gasping for breath as he wiped the tears from his eyes.
“Hey, are you back with me?” MJ asked.
“Nightmare, I told you they happened.” Peter stammered out.
She nodded and MJ went to reassure him but her plans changed once she saw how Peter was staring at her again, confused, detached, almost dazed.
“You’ve got that look in your eye again.” She said hesitantly. How could she not notice the way his eyes were almost glazed over, like he was watching life on film as if it had already passed him by.
“Huh?” was his only response.
“You know, the one where you’re trying to figure out if I'm real?”
“Are you?” he breathed out disbelief, lacing his tone in fear. He was almost frozen in place and only then did MJ think back to her possession. There wasn’t much to remember seeing as Jean Gray had somehow locked her out of her own brain but she tried to put herself in Peter’s shoes, tried to imagine the feeling of reuniting with a loved one only to realise it's a trap.
Moments passed, only Peter’s laboured breaths filled the room as she tried to figure out a way she could prove that the real MJ, his new MJ, was truly there for him.
She gently placed her hand between them on the sheets an arm’s length away from his hand, whispering in the calmest voice she could muster in the moment.
“Hold my hand so you can feel that it’s me,” Peter, still hesitant, didn't move an inch, so she pressed on, “Go ahead, touch me.”
MJ couldn’t have possibly anticipated the reaction that came out of him. How he scrambled away from her, half falling off the bed, ignoring the shooting pain from his back in the process.
MJ really couldn’t have expected how quickly he tried to detach himself from the situation, the pure coldness of his voice.
“Shut up.”
“Shit. Peter, what did I do? I’m sorry,” she tried to reach over and comfort him but Peter only backed away further into the corner.
“Jean, get the fuck away from us. Please just let her go.” His voice rose with an anger MJ had only heard aimed at villains.
It scared her and even without spider senses she could hear the signature creak of the couch that sounded when someone moved too much in the living room. A sign Ned was waking up.
Fuck, this wasn’t a mess anymore it was a whole shitshow.
“I- what.” MJ’s voice was shaking now, mind racing trying to figure out how to calm him down. When Peter said he had nightmares she blindly thought she understood, she didn't have the time to dwell on how wrong she was.
“I promised I would be there for you anytime, but this is twisted, Jean.” He spat out.
“Peter.” She noticed the way his shoulder shook and fists clenched by his side as he tried not to reach out and cave into the illusion. He didn’t even turn around and it broke her heart.
“No, what could you possibly have to say to me?” Peter Parker had disappeared now, his eyes weren’t black but the hope and sparkle in his eyes were long gone.
“It's just me MJ, she-” MJ spits it out with venom aimed at both Jean and herself. How did she mess this up so spectacularly, “-must have said something similar, I’m sorry, I didn't know.”
That made him turn around.
Now, Peter couldn't just ask her to say something only MJ would know about him, because Jean had access to everything. He had to go against everything he’d learnt over the past four years alone.
He had to trust her.
He ran his hand through his hair, it was more than a mess now, strands sticking in every direction, the pain in his back was searing as he turned to face her properly. She stood next to the bed, her own tears running down her face, eyes struck with second-hand pain as she held herself tightly.
The door creaked open a few seconds later Ned standing, jaw dropped worry etched to his face, trying to make sense of the situation. MJ’s eyes widened, shaking her head at him in an attempt to telepathically communicate that they’d talk later. Somehow Ned understood quietly shutting the door behind him.
“I’m- God, I should go.” Peter said dejectedly and MJ’s tears only fell harder.
“Come here.” MJ asked just as quietly, her voice breaking.
Time seemed to slow down as Peter shyly crossed the room, almost reluctantly, like he was at war with himself on whether he deserved her comfort. MJ would forever be grateful that the side of trust won out that night as he reached her, raising a hand up to hold her face ever so softly.
His own tears hadn't ceased but that didn’t stop him from wiping hers away, he kissed her cheek, his lips ghosting her skin with such uncertainty still unable to comprehend the possibility this was his MJ. Not the one of his memories but the one he was slowly getting to know again, the MJ where he could tell where the boundaries between friends and more were blurring like ink on wet paper.
“Em, I.”
“It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice like medicine calmed him.
MJ leaned into his hand before pulling him into the tightest hug she could. At any other time this would have pushed Peter over the edge with his heightened senses but tonight, after whatever that was, the pressure grounded him, it reminded him that she was real.
That she was MJ because no one else had even the smallest ability of making him feel as safe as he did with her.
MJ let go partly, to spin him around, lifting up the back of his shirt up to check the stitches, it was a miracle they were all intact. She led him to bed again and they left the bedside lamp on after that.
MJ held him as they laid down, her arms wrapped around his torso mindful of the stitches as his head rested on her chest, the sound of her heartbeat grounding him in the safe haven they’d created. She carded her hands through his hair, taming it slightly now that it was finally dry, the repetitive motion forced her to relax, yet the events still looped on in her mind.
“You scared me, it wasn’t you’re fault but that was fucking terrifying Peter” her voice was small, vulnerable and lacking its usual punch, yet the words still touched him.
“I know.” he paused, crestfallen, “I’m sorry, how can I make things better?”
“You can stay.”
He answered immediately, “Okay.”
Peter only slept a few hours that night, he groaned as the first whispers of morning light flooded through the window. Strange, the rain must have cleared at some point throughout the night he hadn’t heard it stop. MJ was fast asleep next to him, the furrow in her brow had vanished and she looked at peace.
Finally.
He’d never meant to scare her, the thought of leaving now barely crossed Peter’s mind, he always tried his best to honour his promises and he wouldn’t stop now. The daylight offered his racing thoughts some comfort as he settled down again, forcing his eyes to close.
He'd wake up later on in the day, ready to put the weight of the world back on his shoulders, but for now, in the hushed hours between day and night he would soon be asleep like the rest of New York City. Next to the real MJ, next to the one person he trusted with more than his life.