Chapter Text
MJ doesn’t bring it up until the evening.
New York was on her side today, laying down everything she needs for this particular proposal to go over well. Criminals apparently weren’t immune to March’s maddening lethargy because they cranked their usual activities down a notch, leaving the Spider-Men with a dead patrol. Around seven, Peter texted her, “congrats your bf is currently the first spider to ever discover possibly lethal levels of boredom” with a skull emoji and several yawning emojis.
MJ didn’t get this far in her career by ignoring opportunities when they’re staring at her in the inconspicuous form of gray message bubbles. She sees and she conquers, level of exertion varying on the prize. It’s a philosophy that serves her well in journalism, where integrity is a dying value and reporters like her are condescended to as shiny-eyed optimists.
Anyone who dismisses MJ as naïve usually regrets it.
She made it from writer and editorial assistant to associate editor within less than a year. Her promotion to editor has never been an if, but a when, though the wait has started to grate at her nerves.
And with her new, insufferable boss that can’t see nuance or a reporter with actual chops from the seat of his high horse, well…she needs an edge.
So she texted Peter back, “if the city’s disappointing you that much, come keep me company while I finish up my work.”
She sent him a selfie of her eyes crinkled in a smile over the rim of her Spider-Man mug; she grabbed it on a whim from one of those tourist shops near Times Square with her boyfriend’s design plastered all over cheap merch. Along with the plushie she keeps her on couch. Peter has grumbled about licensing issues when he’s seen them, but she usually catches his fond smile anyway.
She sipped slowly from her tea, watching those typing bubbles pop up a few minutes later, until his answer slid through.
Checked in with Miles first. He’s good. As usual.
Swinging home now. Love you.
It’s eight-fifteen when MJ firmly reminds herself that she has no reason left to delay this. Peter’s relaxing beside her on their bed, an arm behind his head, and the physics research journal he has a monthly print subscription to is propped up on his knee. It’s his favorite way to kill time until she wraps up a draft or transcribes interview notes. He doesn’t interrupt her unless she prods him for his opinion on something–a line, a lead that may prove to be faulty, which quote to use and which to scrap.
She shuts her laptop and watches his eyes trail up to her curiously.
“All caught up?”
“For now.” She sets it aside on her nightstand and tames a smile when Peter immediately does the same with the journal. “Not everyday you’re home this early, Tiger. The rest of it can wait ‘till the morning.”
MJ cups his jaw and kisses him, inhaling his sweet sigh. She swings a leg over his thighs and he predictably glides his palms over hers, squeezing the soft flesh. Her favorite night gown gets rucked up toward her hips, which, overkill on MJ’s part? Maybe. Peter gets just as starry-eyed when she’s lounging in her leggings and the Bugle hoodie that got handed out last December in lieu of actual raises. But sue her, she’s feeling good tonight, so she shimmied into something extra.
“You know how I mentioned,” she pipes up, while Peter presses kisses down her neck, “that my job usually hands out promotions around this time of year? And everything I do this month matters, like, three times as much?”
“Mhm.” His hand snakes over the nape of her neck and he tips her jaw with his thumb. She giggles when he playfully nips her. “And I said I’d have the champagne ready for when they make you editor.”
“Right. Buuuut ever since Jonah took over, that promotion’s not the guarantee it was a few months ago. He changes the goalpost like every week. And I’m starting to think he’s trying to screw me out of what I’ve earned by setting these stupid standards.”
He sighs sympathetically into her skin, making her pleasantly shiver. She’s asked Peter for advice more times than she count since Jonah bought The Daily Bugle, being that her boyfriend used to take photos for the asshole and miraculously survived to tell the tale. He told her it’s a never-ending war with Jonah, to pick her battles wisely and save herself the stress, but that attitude leans dangerously close to passivity and MJ has realized that won’t cut it anymore. Not if she’s going to snag what’s rightfully hers come this spring.
“Feel like I need to take some responsibility for my biggest fan, since I’m eighty-percent of the reason his blood pressure’s dangerously high. Sorry he’s taking it out on the paper, MJ.” Peter nuzzles into her neck and she smiles, wrapping her arms around him. “But you know what they say about broken clocks.”
“They should get tossed in the trash where they belong?” she snarks.
He laughs hard, leaning back to face her. “They’re right twice a day. But if you’re planning something sinister for Jonah, don’t tell me. Spider-Man needs to have plausible deniability.” He runs his fingers through her hair and idly twirls a piece around his index finger. “What I’m saying is, Jonah’s got his flaws. And he’s pretty loud about them. But somewhere in that narrow mind is common sense–enough to have gotten him this far, at least.” His voice softens and MJ leans closer, part of her always ready to chase the comfort. “He may have bought the Bugle on an ego trip of insane proportions, but he does want it to succeed. And that can’t happen without you. You are getting that promotion, MJ.”
No amount of sweet reassurances are going to deter MJ from making the proposal that she’s been mulling over all day, but still, it does make her all warm and fuzzy. Feelings that only Peter Parker can manage to ignite on a hellish Monday, assuming he’s not off tangling with one of his villains. And even then, he can usually squeeze in a charming text or the occasional mid-swing (or mid-combat, which MJ has fruitlessly chastised him for) phone call.
She captures his mouth in an impassioned kiss again, because she loves him and he’s completely right about one thing. MJ is getting that promotion. And she’s surer now that her plan isn’t going to fail.
When she pulls away, his cheeks are flushed and his hazel eyes sparkle like someone just plucked him out of a perfect dream.
Well. Good a time as any to go in for the kill.
“The thing is,” MJ says slowly, “I need some sort of insurance. Which might not be fair but–“ She shrugs. “It’s how Jonah operates. And I’m playing the long game, Parker. All the way to editor-in-chief.” She brushes an eyelash off Peter’s cheekbone. “So…I could use Spider-Man’s help.”
“MJ.” He knits his brows together with mock sternness. “We’ve been over this. I’m not a hitman.”
She rolls her eyes. “And even though I’m a personal believer that there are some values you should sacrifice for your girlfriend, I made my peace with it.” Peter snorts as she plays along and a smile curves along her mouth. “No codes will be broken for this, Pete. I just…need a favor. If you’re up for it.”
“Anything,” he tells her immediately. “Throwing a wrench in another crime ring and need me to knock some heads together? Or are we strictly talking stealthy retrieval of evidence, ‘cause I can do that, too. Whew, I’m actually excited. We haven’t partnered up in a while, huh? Been rusty on that front since Symkaria.”
MJ tries not to wince at the mention of their stay in Symkaria. It won’t ever be an experience that she regrets, but…the outcome wasn’t what she expected. And maybe it wasn’t fair to have expectations at all. But for MJ, part of becoming a full-time journalist was leaning into that ceaseless itch to know the world beyond her bubble, to tell the stories that are at risk of getting stomped under biased headlines and wads of money meant to make things–people–vanish.
To be a voice that people can trust.
It was all she ever wanted. And after weeks of shadowing Silver Sable and interviewing Symkarians who have had their entire lives upended by a civil war that the world had been all-too-contently ignoring, of writing in every scrap of free time she could salvage in an active war zone, she believed that was it. She was finally making a difference in the ways that monumentally mattered to her.
Then her publisher churned out her book on an uneventful Tuesday without any fanfare. Just a bland post on their social media accounts. Not even a single event booked by the indifferent PR team, with whom MJ hoped she might find her way into panels where she could speak to people face-to-face. Connect beyond the boundaries of written text and tell them anything they wanted to know about the war, about the importance of not looking away.
Instead, MJ sold fourteen copies of Perilous: A Journey Into War-Torn Symkaria. Three of which she found in Peter’s possession. One had been displayed on his shelf and the other two MJ found tucked away in his closet. She could never bring herself to mention to him that she’d seen the extras.
Turns out MJ is destined for the traditional route if she wants to make a difference.
And she’ll be damned if J. Jonah Jameson is the one to kick her off the promised path.
“Be grateful New York hasn’t had any destabilizing threats since Roxxon and the Underground,” she tells Peter. “I’ve been able to keep my good friend tucked away for a while.”
He smirks. “Your Sable stingray?”
“Mhm. Poor thing’s been in my purse so long, probably does need a test drive.” MJ curls her fingers over Peter’s shoulders. “But not now. Actually, you can keep the webs tucked away too.”
His eyes narrow. “A favor that doesn’t require my web shooters or my fists? Sure you don’t just need Peter Parker’s help?”
“Your impressive powers of science and photography are super attractive, Tiger, but helpful?” MJ scrunches her face thoughtfully and Peter dramatically scoffs. “Not if I’m going to get promoted.”
“The suspense is officially killing me. Like, I’m on my last dying breath. Break it down for me, Watson.”
Heeeere goes nothing.
“I need you to agree to an exclusive interview with Jameson.”
Peter blinks at her. Then he starts cackling. MJ purses her mouth. She honestly expected this reaction but didn’t anticipate how awkward it’s going to be to have to sit through it. She certainly wishes this was a joke but when has life ever been that kind?
“That was, like–“ He gasps for air, then threads his fingers through her hair and pulls her in to fondly kiss her forehead. “The longest set-up for a joke ever. How’d you keep a straight face?”
“Oh, y’know, it was pretty easy.” She clears her throat. “Considering I’m not joking.”
They stare at each other. MJ feels a pang of sympathy when the realization kicks in for him like a rude neighbor, and Peter’s smile vanishes. Now, he looks horrified.
“MJ…”
“It won’t be any more than a hour,” she tries to mend the nightmare scenario but it’s like putting band-aids on a bullet wound. “Maybe even less. And I’d obviously demand to be in the room, so no one’s throwing you to the wolves. Although is Jonah a wolf? Or is he just a temperamental chihuahua with more bark than its bite?”
“MJ.” Peter groans. “You’re serious?”
“I am, Pete,” she says apologetically. “Look, his podcast’s ratings have been down this month and he’s blown his freaking lid about it. Then his assistant, Jared, planted the interview idea in his head and at first Jonah was insisting he doesn’t give city-wide menaces platforms for their agenda, or whatever. But within a couple hours, he came around to it because guess what? People would tune in and he knows it. And I mean, he hasn’t shut up about it since last week.”
“You have that promotion in the bag, MJ. His podcast no longer topping the listening charts isn’t your problem. You’re amazing at your job. What else could he want?”
“A lot, Peter. So. Much. The guy is a borderline dictator. And this isn’t that different from you giving him your Spidey photos, is it?”
He sighs. “I stopped giving him those photos because when Electro killed a bunch of cops, Spider-Man got blamed.”
“I know,” MJ murmurs, rubbing his shoulder when she feels him tense at the memory. “And when I said I wasn’t throwing you to the wolves, I meant it. To be honest, Pete, I kinda think we both get what we want here.”
A reluctant smile twitches at Peter’s mouth. He’s always her first pair of ears when she needs to run through a practiced pitch, and even as she’s proposing something entirely antithetical to his relaxing night off patrol, that familiar admiration is present in his eyes. MJ’s heart thumps hard in response.
“Annnnd what do I get from being screamed at by New York’s angriest?”
“The satisfaction of a comeback. For God’s sake, Peter, his show is set to autoplay in your suit. You’ve heard every shitty way he twists the things you do for New York and you’ve never, not once, thought about how you might defend yourself?”
“Sure I have. In, like, the shower. Not for an audience of thousands.”
“Make that the hundreds of thousands, if Jared’s projections are accurate.”
His head falls against her shoulder and he mumbles “ohmygod” miserably into her bare skin. MJ scratches at his scalp the way he likes and decides to let the offer simmer a bit. She’s pretty much said her piece for now, and judging by the way her boyfriend starts to loosen up again, resuming the slow glide of his hands over her nightgown, she won’t need to say any more.
When he sits up again, he looks thoughtful. Tentatively so, but the consideration is there and it’s on MJ to turn it into something fruitful.
“If I do this, that promotion’s yours, right? He won’t pull a Jonah and rip the rug out from under you?”
“He can try.” She shrugs. “But I’m pretty persuasive.”
Whether it means sneaking into an auto-shop owned by a formerly bulletproof criminal overlord or past a heavily armed private miltia, MJ crosses bridges when she gets to them. If Jonah, for some reason, tries to blow it apart, she’ll suit up in her climbing gear and burrow forward the hard way. The asshole will find out he’s the least, absolute bottom of the barrel, of the threats she’s dealt with.
Peter smiles slightly. “And you promise you’ll be in the room with me?”
She plants a kiss on his cheek. “For every entertaining minute of it.”
“And when you eventually make editor-in-chief, you’ll bar Jonah from the Bugle and podcast mics for life?”
“First thing on the to-do list, Pete.”
He chuckles and the sound’s laced with nerves. “Okay. Fine. So we’re clear, I’m doing this out of love.”
MJ beams. “For Triple-J?”
“Who else? He’s my sunshine.”