Work Text:
Week One
MJ dragged himself down the halls with the same prayer class that would be cancelled today, he had had the other day. He didn’t hate school; classes were a breeze for the most part, and he liked learning about politics. It was the early classes, the tedious walks, the people. He would've taken online courses if his mother and uncle weren't so adamant on the boy going in person.
“I appreciate your help, Unc, but I can learn this stuff online. Shit, might even learn faster that way.” MJ tried to convince him a year back while applying, phone pressed between his ear and shoulder while he typed up his essay.
“Your mother already agreed with me on this, you need to get out there and explore, man.” His uncle, Sam, spoke through the phone, “Try out that college experience.” “Don’t need it.”
“Michael.”
So there he was, dreading ever falling for his mother’s speech of encouragement and puppy dog eyes. Though he will admit, the change of scenery was nice. Big open campus with enough isolated spots to do homework in. Just as he turns a corner, music blasting in his headphones while mentally deciding what spot he could chill at today, something– or rather someone– crashes into him. They smack dead on, causing notebooks and somebody’s pair of glasses to clatter across the floor. It's too early for this. MJ momentarily considered walking back to his dorm and trying another day. He slid his headphones down to his neck, then bent down.
“My bad,” He apologized, but the words barely came out of his mouth before the strangers on the ground, too, making haste to get their things together. They mutter hurried apologies, ‘So sorry,’ ‘that’s on me,’ and ‘Here, let me help.’’ MJ scrunches his eyebrows. That voice sounded so familiar, like a distant dream that flies further away the more MJ thinks about it.
The voice threw him so off that he didn’t notice the quick speed the person worked at, already standing up with their coincidentally red notebook. MJ grabs the glasses, black and boxy.
“Sorry,” They repeated, calmer than before. “I ran into you; you had the right of way. I should've noticed you there, man."
MJ looks up at the stranger, ready to hand the glasses back, when his stomach does a plunge. His grip tightened. Big brown waves of hair, thick eyebrows, big brown eyes, and that typical stupid look on his face. The one where he gets awkward, and all he can do is just grin. His face felt like nostalgia to look at again, reminding MJ of the times he’d eyed him from afar.
MJ opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again, stupidly. For the first time in a long time, he's unsure of what to say here. He's still on the ground, glasses in his hands like he's proposing, and probably with a dumb look on his face. MJ feels like he’s gone stupid in the head; he probably looks stupid to Peter. He gets up without a struggle. He couldn't tell what was going on in Peter’s brain; the guy just looked at him curiously, like he was realising something too.
He’s got to say something, “Oh, it's you.” That came out wrong, “From high school.” He adds, trying not to sound vague. He hands the glasses to Peter, hoping that this interaction would end sooner before he made himself look any more dumb.
“Uh, yeah.” Peter says it as if he’s unsure, “Peter.” He takes the glasses without looking away from MJ. His fingers brush against MJ. Which sparks something in MJ he would prefer to ignore, “You're…”
“Michael, we had a biology class together”, MJ finished, “I went by MJ then.” Peter nodded as he had suddenly remembered. They stood there for a moment.
MJ couldn’t read the vibe. Peter looked at him like he was still curious about something. Like he had his own internal dialogue going on in his head while they stood there. Whatever it was, MJ wasn’t going to stick around for it; he was not risking tardiness for a pretty boy.
“So I got a 10 o’clock class…” He began.
“Right! Right, me too,” Peter chuckles awkwardly, shaking his head to himself. Some things never change about people, “I’m guessing it's something science related.”
“Actually,” MJ looks around the building like he's thoroughly examining it. “It might just be,” he replied, playful sarcasm evident in his tone.
“I got a class in here too,” MJ raises his eyebrows in fake surprise, “Chemistry in 204.” Peter checks his watch. “It’s actually in like, five minutes," he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
MJ cocked his head in curiosity. “You’re going the wrong way.” He replied.
“What?” Peter stuttered.
“The class is that way,” MJ points to the door behind him. Peter looks briefly, like the class just magically appeared, “I know because that's my class, never seen you in there.” MJ gets an idea, a smile curving along his lips, “Unless tryna sneak into classes.” He teased.
Peter’s reaction is immediate. He shook his head at the accusation, “I’m not-”
“Nah, I don’t know, it seems like you are. You waiting for someone in there?” He accused me with a playful but curious tone. Part of him wanted to know if there was someone. But just out of curiosity, of course. Nothing more…
Peter began to sputter, “What? No, no, of course not, I don’t–” But MJ cuts him off before he spiralled,
“I’m playing, man”, MJ chuckled, eyebrows raised “You good, Parker.” Peter scrunches his head and smiles too, like the joke isn’t landing all the way with him. It made MJ grin wider.
“Oh.” Peter chuckled awkwardly, “Okay.” He scratched his head for a moment. MJ could see the gears turning as Peter eyed him. Though he can't tell the expression Peter was trying to make.
“Well,” MJ nodded at the classroom, telling Peter to come with.
“Right.” Peter agreed, as if he had forgotten all about the class for a moment.
He tried to swallow down the butterflies flapping around his stomach as they walked. It was just some old jitters; meeting an old crush again does that. Talking to a cute boy does that. Inplus, it’s not like they’re going to be running into each other like that outside of class.
Before MJ could slip his headphones back on, Peter spoke up again, “I had to switch out my chem classes because of scheduling.” He explained quickly, “Just so you know.”
MJ nodded, “I assumed.”
“I was actually kinda upset about it but...” They both locked eyes. That’s when MJ noticed it. A soft glint, like a hand being offered his way, “At least I’ll have somebody I know in there.” His cadence warmed MJ up. He hummed, nervous that if he’d tried saying anything, his voice would crack.
Peter continues walking without a second thought, like he wasn’t pulling MJ back into his sphere. He could feel it now, falling back like he didn’t claw his way out last time. He’s just a pretty boy, MJ repeats in his head.
“Could we exchange numbers? We could study together or something.” Peter’s words do nothing to ease the feelings. Still, they swapped phones. For the rest of the class, MJ's eyes kept wandering back to his phone, waiting for it to light up with a message.
Week Two
MJ didn’t see Peter much outside of class, like how he expected, disappointedly. They had small conversations here and there. Peter would text him occasionally, ask him to double-check his chemistry work (which is always right) or send him a meme. While it may be a small sense of rejection coming up, MJ’s starting to grow a bit of suspicion surrounding it all.
Even if he only had one class with him, it seemed impossible for them not to have run into each other at least once on campus. Something even weirder, Peter seemed to disappear right after class. He’s checked hallways, stairwells, and even left early to see where Peter goes. He’ll admit it's a bit stalkerish, but it’s weird! Peter turns a corner, and then he’s just gone.
As the second weekend after bumping into Peter rolled around, MJ decided just to let it be. Maybe he’s just really fast or something. It wasn’t his business anyhow. He had more important things to tend to.
Every weekend, MJ had two options: stay on campus or go home. He always chose the ladder. He’ll probably only ever admit this on his deathbed, but he gets homesick a lot. His mom’s jokes, her cooking, his room, his gaming system. He got a bag packed and ready every time.
Just as he opens his door, he sees Peter. MJ almost jumped. This time, Peter’s not in a hurry to disappear behind a corner, nor does he have on much clothing. He froze just as his hand was on his doorknob, light spilling from the crack of the door. Since when did Peter stay right across from him? Maybe out of a terrible habit of analysing everything, or because he’s only in a towel, MJ’s eyes wandered down. He travelled down the shadow of wet, glistening abs and small healing bruises underneath fluorescent lights. Followed the prominent veins towards a catty and a tight grip on his towel. Seen the rim of boxers picking underneath.
It took him too long to redirect his eyes. Peter’s face splotched red with embarrassment. Steam’s still rolling off his shoulders. MJ usually finds it annoying when people walk around wet and in towels in the dormitory. The hallway carpet reeked of mildew from the wet bodies that dripped on it. But this sight made him care so much less about the carpets or the smell, hell, he might even support it now.
Peter stumbled, looking just as surprised as MJ was, “Oh, he– hey!” He readjusted his towel. Lord have mercy, “I didn’t know you roomed across from me.”
MJ fought to keep his eyes forward, even if he caught an unintentional flex of his muscles, “Yeah..” He murmured, silently swearing to himself that Peter’s eyes get bigger when he’s all soaked. “Me neither, didn’t think anybody even lived there, honestly.”
“Yeah, yeah…” Peter laughed awkwardly, shuffling a bit, "Well, it’s great that you do. I was actually meaning to talk to you.”
“Oh,” MJ shifted his weight, focusing on the conversation, “What’s up?” He’s playing it cool, he’s being normal, and he’s keeping as much eye contact as humanly possible. Even leans against his doorframe a bit.
“Would you wanna hang out today? I was gonna text you after class, but I got distracted with that monster thing downtown.”
MJ raised an eyebrow. Downtown wasn’t a quick drive from the campus. “You were there?”
Pete looked as if he said too much, “Yep!” His voice cracked, “I was uh getting my aunt some stuff.” He rushed to say, “You know, just hid until Spider-Man came around. He got the guy. Dropped off some stuff for my aunt. I went to my dorm. The end.”
MJ picked up on Peter’s awkward way of talking pretty quickly in high school. The short, meaningless conversations they had have always left dead air in their space. He used to find it cute, replaying the moments in his head foolishly. But this was new. He was starting to get the sense that Peter was lying to him, over forgetting to text him back. It was weird.
“You don’t have to lie, Parker.” MJ shrugs carelessly.
“No, no,” Peter immediately flushes, almost letting go of his towel to raise a hand in defence. (MJ’s heart dropped) but stopping himself.
“You forgot, that’s fine.” MJ did a quick turnaround to throw his bag bed, mind made up on how he was gonna spend his afternoon that day. “I still wanna hang out, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m not–” Peter stopped himself, accepting defeat with a low sigh, “I’ll get dressed.” He decided instead.
MJ smiles, “You do that.”
The moment Peter’s door closed, MJ relaxed, letting out a deep breath he didn’t know he was even holding. He drags a hand across his face and mulls over his new plans. Peter’s weird; he’s acting weird, acting secretive. Why does that make MJ so damn curious? I still wanna hang out. Just asking to be walked all over by this guy. A flash of Peter’s torso goes across his mind. He certainly wouldn’t mind Peter being on top of him.
He shook his head to release any of those thoughts and dipped back into his room, scared that Peter might see him through the peephole. His door closed with a soft click. He pressed his back against it and breathed. It’s just a hangout, he reminded himself. He’s just some pretty boy.
He opened his phone and clicked on his mother’s contact.
The two walk along campus, the sun crawling down along the horizon. Its departure is colored among the skies, rays of orange hues splash the dormitories and buildings and refract off the windows. If MJ could, he would write a thousand poems about the sky's transitions. How the sun and moon wake up and fall asleep right alongside them.
Golden hour was the prettiest to MJ, not just because his skin glowed in its dewy shine, but because its constant ending and reappearance reassured something deep in him. He decides he loves it more as he notices how the sun captures the honey in Peter’s eyes.
They’ve been strolling for a while, kicking rocks along their paths as they talk. And boy, can Peter talk. He rambled about an array of things, mouth running off about movies, shows, games– anything he liked, he talked about it. He got most of the references, even showing Peter some of the artwork he’s made about them. Others, he feigned ignorance just to hear Peter stumble through his words, occasionally commenting on the ‘newfound’ info. The more he talks, the more MJ starts to feel regretful for not talking to the guy sooner. They would’ve gotten along well. Maybe he knew that, maybe that made him more afraid to open up and try.
Something MJ said stopped Peter in the middle of his sentence, “You know,” He started a new one with a glint in his eye, “I didn’t know you liked all this stuff, nerdy stuff that is.”
MJ scoffs, surprised, “Okay,” He cocks his head in interest, “What makes you say that?”
“You used to call me a nerd all the time back in high school,” Peter replied without a hint of accusation in his voice.
MJ cringed at the words, suddenly flooded with memories. “My bad–”
“No, no, I didn’t mind it, not with you.” Not with you, sounded too sweet to MJ’s ears. “You made it sound like it was cool or something.” MJ’s face warmed. He didn’t know what to say to that, but before he could come up with anything, Peter was continuing, “Now I know why, it’s because you’re a big nerd too.”
“Nope.” MJ shuts down.
“You are.”
“Barely.”
“You just showed me your drawings of superheroes, which are amazing by the way.” MJ shrugged, like it wasn’t important. “And gotten like, half of the references I’ve made in this entire conversation.” He noted with a laugh, it danced in MJ’s head and threatened to float his body up higher than the sky itself.
“Those drawings could be for anatomy lessons, and knowing only half doesn’t make me a nerd.” MJ countered with a raised finger. There was no real point in arguing about it; neither cared about what made them nerdy or not now. But Peter enticed him to continue it, egging it on for banter.
Peter scoffed, “You’re clearly listening and understanding what I'm saying, though.” MJ's eyes flicker back to him, and he sees a prideful smile across his face. “Yeah?” A sly grin slowly began to grow on MJ’s face.
“Yeah.” Peter looked at him with a playfully determined look in his eyes to be right, “You understand my nerd-talk as clear as day.” MJ looked down and snorted, shaking his head.
“And how can you tell that?” His eyes locked on Peter’s when he looked back up. The words were less of a challenge, more of a test. MJ waited to see if Peter would make the right choice or not.
Peter didn’t falter, voice dropping low like it’s a secret, “'Cause I’ve seen you look at me like that before.” MJ’s heart dropped. Was he that obvious in high school? Is he that obvious now? A myriad of thoughts bounced around his brain while his heart was threatening to leave his chest because of that voice of his.
“What d’you mean?” MJ asks, feigning ignorance. He even tilts his head in curiosity to sell the part.
“Back in high school?” MJ’s heart plummets, “When we had that lab assignment, I could tell you were barely listening to that teacher explain the directions.”
He blinks; relief washes over him. “Oh. Yeah,” Thank the lord above, he even lets out a little laugh “I remember that...” MJ squints, “We weren’t partnered up for that.”
Peter’s face reddens, “Yeah, I know,” He says, that same awkwardness crawling back up his throat. “I just noticed cause you were really obvious about it,” Another lie. “especially compared to when I came over–”
MJ nodded with that visual in his head, “You asked for a pencil, yes, I remember that–”
“You get that look in your eyes when you’re paying attention to something.”
“You got all this from one small conversation?” MJ scrunched his eyebrows, but his smile stayed hung across his face.
“What can I say,” Peter sighs theatrically, “I’m a pretty observant guy.” MJ found himself chuckling, genuinely chuckling at Peter.
It’s not even that funny, he’s not even that funny, but something about Peter is making MJ more and more giddy. He ends up shaking his head at MJ’s chuckling, face burning with colours that blend with the setting skies. It went unnoticed by MJ.
They end up tiring their legs out somewhere along the way. The conversations quieted down with comfortable air swaying through one another. The walk ended on a bench below a watercolour sky dipping into the oceanic blues, the two sharing Peter’s earbuds.
Week Three
MJ and Peter started texting more. Way more. Their conversations ranged from updates on their favourite shows, squeezed in between complaints about their next-door neighbours and simple conversations about their day. Peter had this thing about telling MJ the smallest updates on his day or about finding things he thought were cool. Good morning texts attached with pictures of graffiti around the city and drawings hung up in the school’s art department, sometimes he’d even send pictures of himself.
One time, he responded to MJ’s ‘wyd’ with an image of himself sitting at his desk. Slouched, head resting on his hand as he looked up at the camera. His eyebrows were raised high above his glasses, and his lips were slowly curved into an awkward smile. MJ smiled at the image.
‘Studying :/’ he said, evident with the textbook splayed across his desk. He had this exhausted look on his face, but his eyes seemed warmed, like MJ’s text was a needed break from studying.
Curious, MJ looked behind him, just to know what his room looked like. His desk was pushed up against the wall, giving MJ a view of his bed and closet. There were posters of heroes and comic book characters on the walls, some he recognised, some he didn’t. His old skateboard (MJ was surprised that he still had it) was pushed up against his wall. It was just the ordinary styled dorm with a few hints of Peter around it.
Then something interesting. It was at the corner of his ear and rested on his bed in the background. MJ could barely make it out, but its colours, bright red and blue, contrasted the navy duvet. He didn’t jump to any conclusions about it. Could be regular clothes. Could be Spider-Man-themed merchandise. Peter was a nerdy guy. He made a mental note to ask Peter about his thoughts on the hero one day and saved the image.
For proof, no other reason, of course…
MJ slouched on the couch. Another weekend had rolled around, and he was back home for the moment. He had taken a break from playing 2k when he got a text from Peter. A picture of a rooftop, one of the puddles from the rainwater yesterday, made a misshapen heart. All he said was “Look at what I found.”
MJ liked the message, absentmindedly smiling at his phone.
“Who’s that?” The phone nearly flew out of MJ’s hands. He looked over his shoulder, his Uncle breathing forearms on the couch with that smirk on his face. He groaned, just all up in his business, “Sending you heart pictures and shit.”
MJ waved him off, “It’s not like that.” He dismissed, looking back at the image, “He’s from my old high school, he cool.” His uncle stayed quiet for a moment, but MJ could feel him analysing him. “We’re just friends,” he tacked on at the end.
“Friends don’t send each other pictures of hearts, Michael,” Sam muttered.
MJ rolled his eyes, “Don’t start.” But his Uncle was already trying to lean in close.
“Who is this Pete boy?” MJ sat up before Sam could see the profile picture any better. He dropped his phone face down onto the couch and gave the man a look.
“Not when that goofy ass smirk on your face.” His Uncle’s look only intensified. “Can we go back to the game now?” He asked, begging for this conversation to end.
Luckily for him, his Uncle relented, “Okay,” The smirk permanent on his face, picking up one of the controllers, “But if he is more than a friend–”
“Oh my god–”
“You gotta bring him around sometime.”
MJ shook his head like it was the worst idea he’s ever heard, “I’m done talking to you ‘bout this.” Though he mulled over the thought with a fuzzy feeling.
MJ came back to the dorms later than expected, having let time slip past him during his studying. He strolled down his hall with a bit of a patter in his heart. Knowing that Peter was just a knock away was starting to mess with his mind.
The number of times he’s checked the peephole in hopes of just catching Peter walking by was more than normal. He kept telling himself that he was just being spatially aware. What if it were some lunatic running down the halls or something? Each time, it’s been just another student hurrying to get to class, leaving him disappointed.
MJ glanced at Peter’s door right as he unlocked his. A part of him hoped for Peter to open the door, to notice that he had come back from home and try to make conversation. That, for some reason, Peter was still up this late, maybe studying in that same position as he was in the picture. It was wishful thinking, and it kept MJ lingering in the hall a bit longer.
After a minute or two, he turns back around, shaking his head at his own stupidity. Then–
Thud!
A loud muffled grunt slipped out from behind Peter’s door. MJ paused, hearing clutter hit the floor like he was struggling with something. The noises continued, bumps, huffing, more things clattering to the ground before MJ hears a thud again, this time it’s accompanied by a pained noise. He dropped his things and closed the door, shifting his full attention to Peter.
MJ abrasively knocked, “Pete!” The movement stopped. “Aye, you good?” Pure silence on the other end. He tried again, “Peter?”
“...Yeah, it’s me.” A soft noise comes from behind the door. It sounded harsh, like the words were hard to say, “I’m good! I’m good.” MJ highly doubted that.
He scrunched his eyebrows, “Doesn’t sound like it.” He pressed an ear against the door, “Do you need any help?”
Peter doesn’t respond. MJ’s almost concerned until he heard the sounds of hurried footsteps and something else. It’s almost like a slick noise, like a wet slingshot and soft splats. What in the hell could he be doing there?
The door swung open suddenly, and MJ immediately backed up, trying to look like he wasn’t eavesdropping. But by the look on Peter, that’d be the least of his concerns. He had a blooming bruise on his cheek, an angry red split over his nose, and his hair stuck up in weird places. His loose shirt revealed more than he may have realised; more bruising covered the hill of his left shoulder as he held his stomach. Peter was barely upright, shoulders curving inward.
His eyes lit up at the sight of MJ, like he was a sight for really sore eyes.
MJ’s eyes widened, “What happened?”
“Nothing…nothing just y’know…” Peter’s face screwed up before he hit the side of the door frame, failing to lean up against it and pushing his whole weight on it. His forehead pressed against the wood. He looked back at MJ. Mouth slightly agape, he awkwardly smiled and lightly shook his head, “Just fell down some stairs.”
“Stairs.” MJ deadpanned, “Did the stairs jump you?” He looked him up and down.
Peter nodded and tried to laugh before visibly regretting, “Looks like it, right? Did a really bad number on me.” He says it like he was trying to convince himself, “I just need to sleep it off. Speaking of, it’s really late–”
MJ stopped him before he could finish that sentence, “Peter, do I look stupid to you?”
“No!” His eyes widened, “No, no, of course not.” Breathless, he wheezed out a chuckle, trying to de-escalate, “MJ, please, I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.” Stubbornly, MJ moved into Peter’s space.
“I’m–” But MJ was already grabbing the man by his armpits. He practically went limp on him. His head fell to his shoulders, cheek pressed up against him.
MJ sucked in a deep breath, “You need to go to an ER–”
“No..” Peter muttered against his neck, his lips brushing against his skin. “No hospitals, I'm fine.” MJ shivered. “Please, M.”
MJ shook his head, goddamn it. Without much pushback, MJ dragged him deeper into the room. He took note of the things sprawled across his floor, stepping over books, pencils, and an alarm clock and moving Peter around to avoid certain things. He must’ve crashed into his desk. He was about to lay him down when he flinched, letting out a pained whine.
“Shit.” MJ mumbled, “Turn around, let’s get you on your stomach.” He touched his right shoulder, but Peter grabbed his arm and squeezed, silently telling him no.
Peter breathed, “Don’t wanna move.” The fragility of his voice sent a knife to MJ’s heart. He knows he shouldn’t have listened to Peter right now, but he did anyway. Hesitantly, he moved his hands off of him, focusing on something else instead.
Besides a bad bruise and a cut nose, Peter didn’t seem to have a concussion. MJ doesn’t really know, but decided not to linger on it anyway. Once Peter was knocked out, he was gonna take him to a hospital, or hell, maybe the nurse student who lived a few doors down. His eyes travelled down to Peter’s torso, and his arm was still hovering over that spot.
“Can I lift your shirt?” He asked, shaky hands already inching towards the hem of the fabric, “To assess the damage and decide whether or not I should take you to a hospital.”
Peter tensed, “No hospitals–”
“Peter.” MJ harshly interjected.
“Michael.” Peter weakly shot back, glaring at him with equal stubbornness.
MJ scoffed, “You ‘bout to piss me off.”
“I’ll lift the shirt if you agree not to take me to the hospital, no matter what you see.” MJ doesn’t like the ultimatum, but Peter looked like he’d give him hell if he tried taking him. He didn’t want to make the injuries worse.
Silently, MJ backed down again, letting Peter take the lead. His compliance seemed to relax the tension in Peter’s shoulders. He gave MJ a soft and empathetic look before moving his eyes away, like he was ashamed. MJ didn’t know how to feel about it, so he just watched instead. Slowly, Peter dragged his shirt up, the fabric unveiling discoloured skin.
There were no open wounds, thankfully, but he had some nasty bruising on him, worse than the one on his face. They looked like they were pushing out of him, yellow, purple, some just pure red. They were mainly at his sides, like someone was giving him quick and heavy jabs non-stop.
MJ sucked in his breath, cringing at it. They looked incredibly painful; he doesn’t even know how Peter was able to stand, let alone open the door. His eyes trailed back up at Peter again, but he didn't look at him. His eyes are pressed together tightly, as if he had revealed a big secret.
With hesitant and shaky hands, MJ lightly dragged a finger across one. The bruised man tightened, his breath hitched at the sensation, then grabbed MJ’s hand as a way to say stop. But instead of like before, he doesn’t grip him tightly at all, just holds it. His hands were rough, MJ hadn’t realised it until now.
Peter began to rub the back of his palms, like MJ was the one who needed soothing. It felt strangely intimate and spoke with words of reassurance and apologies. MJ watched it in fascination and slight fear of breaking away. He could feel Peter’s eyes on him, watching, waiting.
“Hold on.” MJ heard himself say, letting go. Peter made a pained expression. Maybe he moved away too quickly, “I’ll be right back.”
“Wait–” But MJ was already getting up and rushing out. The air felt lighter in the hallway, and his chest felt like he could breathe. Whatever that was, there was no time for it now.
He comes back in minutes, duffle bag in his hands with his keys smushed in between the bag and his palms. He set it down next to Peter’s legs, avoiding accidentally hitting him. Shit, he doesn’t even know how his legs look. He presses on anyway, searching deep in the bag.
“What are you…”
“I got something for it.” MJ said before pulling out a tube, “Helps with the bruising. I gotta get my cold press from the mini fridge.” He squeezed a generous amount into his hands.
Peter tilts his head, “Okay, nurse MJ,” he murmured. MJ side-eyed him, but Peter could see a smile peeking through, “I got Tylenol.”
“Where?” MJ carefully rubbed his hands over the bruising, but still Peter winced.
“On my desk,” Peter gritted, “I was about to take some before you knocked, actually.” MJ glanced at the desk, and the two pills sat idly.
MJ tuts, “No water?” Peter gave him a half-shrug and a smile. “You were just going to dry swallow two small-ass painkillers and call it a night?”
“I would've been fine.” MJ hated how casual and genuine Peter was talking, like any normal human could just sleep something this intense off. “Ow,” Peter grunted at a particularly hard rub.
“I should go harder,” MJ grumbled, lightening up his grasp. “Two pills and some sleep, that's some dumb shit.” He stopped to look at his progress; most of Peter’s torso was glistening from the heavy product. “Okay, how do you feel?”
“Alright,” Peter said, “It’s tingling.”
“That means it’s working.” MJ got up, rubbing the access off on his jeans, “I’m gonna go get the cold press.”
Peter smiled, “You do that.” He used the same words MJ told him a week prior.
MJ shook his head, then grabbed his duffle in keys, “Don’t die.” He said, leaving out. Air once again felt breathable, and he was left with his own thoughts.
He didn’t know what happened or how it did, but investigating the reasoning behind it wasn’t his main focus. The pained, pitiful state of Peter made his skin crawl; it reminded him too much of that time Flash broke his skateboard. He just walked along, watching Peter struggle to get back up. He’s not proud of that moment.
Maybe it was why he was so pushy now, silently trying to make amends for being a bystander last time. He dropped his duffel bag on his bed carelessly before flicking the lights on. Just as he did, though, Peter, as always, interrupted him. A loud slam echoes from behind him. He turned to see Peter’s door closed once again. Before he could even react to it, he got a notification. A text from Peter.
Week Four
MJ barely got any sleep that night. Peter stayed true to his promise, though he knocked on his door with a shy smile and quiet hey. He looked… refreshed. All while MJ had 911 ready on speed dial. It felt impossible, inhuman for Peter to recover that fast. Something tells MJ Peter knew that just by the way he was looking at him. A pleading glint in his eye, like he was asking MJ to let this thing go, don’t question it, don’t dig any further than the surface. He greeted him right back, and they walked to class, silently agreeing to ignore it.
Peter’s new strength and body didn’t make him invincible; he could barely get up last night, but now he was walking and talking like nothing ever happened. The bruise on his cheek was already fading away, and the cut was barely visible, especially underneath his glasses. But MJ didn’t say anything, just let Peter ramble on about something he wasn’t paying too much attention to.
For once, Peter didn’t go and disappear after class, at least not immediately. He caught up to MJ quickly, hands antsy as he walked with him.
“Hey.” He said again, nervously, “I wanted to apologise again, about last night.” MJ's grip on his satchel tightened.
“It’s fine, Parker.”
“It’s not, though. I scared the shit out of you, I could tell.” MJ frowned as Peter spoke lower. His eyes were full of guilt. MJ couldn’t stand to look at it. “And I didn’t mean to hurt you or concern you, really. I shouldn’t have opened the door–”
“Parker–”
“But I just wanted to see you,” MJ’s heart squeezed, “Which I know was stupid.” Peter steamrolled over MJ, the words spilling out of him before he could catch any of it, “You didn’t need to see me like that, I don’t ever want you to see me like that–”
MJ tried again, “Parker–”
“Don’t call me Parker.” MJ stopped walking, and Peter followed suit. The words came out harsher than intended; it’s evident on Peter’s face. MJ didn’t know he could look so apologetic.
Peter looked as if he was about to start, but then ran a hand through his hair. He took a heavy and hard breath like he was considering saying something. His head was running with a thousand things on his mind; he looked so lost in his own brain. Like he had a problem he couldn’t solve so easily. MJ watched him stand around, trying to think of something to say.
MJ didn’t like his anxious steps and nervous hands; he wanted him to calm down. But he also wanted to interrogate him, ask a million questions that might make his head explode. Peter spoke with such hurriedness, like he’d had this conversation before and wanted to avoid any prying questions.
“You’re my friend, MJ. I’m not Parker to you.” Peter finally spoke, hopeless, “Or at least, I hope I still am.” MJ softens his eyes at him.
“You are,” He assured, softly, “Just– I don’t get what happened last night, I don’t get how you’re standing in front of me right now.” Peter looks down, “And I know you won’t tell me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine, Peter.” MJ takes a deep breath, “I don’t know what you do outside of classes, but if it ends with you getting beat, I don’t think you should continue.” Peter bit his lip nervously.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re right.” But Peter doesn’t sound convinced at all. He drags a hand across his face, “I’ll stay out of trouble, I promise.” MJ believed him as much as Peter believed it himself. “Could we study together later this week? I’m kinda lost in class right now.” Another lie, one MJ doesn’t mind.
“Of course you are,” He smirked, “Too busy falling down stairs.” Peter’s face lit up, and they were back to normal again. Somewhat.
“Dude, you are such a liar.” MJ deadpanned, a smile easing on his face, “At this point, you’re not even trying to hide it!” He sat upright on Peter’s bed, back resting against a blank spot on his wall, chem book and pencil in hand.
It wasn’t even 30 minutes before MJ realised that Peter really didn’t need to study. He would've been pressed about it if he wasn't enjoying Peter's very much alive presence. As the day went on, he visibly livened up a bit more, now just glowing in front of MJ.
The questions died down in MJ’s head for once, just pleasantly indulging in the sight of him. Peter leaned up in his chair, wearing random graphic teeth and some plaid pyjamas. His hands behind his head and answered MJ’s every question with ease. He liked this look on Peter, confident and steady. It looked good on Peter, really good.
“I do need to study!” Peter exclaimed, sitting up, “It’s like double-checking if I’m right or not, extra safety.” MJ gave him an unconvinced look.
“You got all the flash cards right, and you aced both practice tests in the span of–” MJ checks his phone, “An hour. I think you’re good.”
Peter stuck out his bottom lip and pouted, genuinely pouted, “Just one more round of flash cards, in case I forget.” He pressed his hands together as a way to say please, widening his eyes. MJ has to stop himself from saying yes, for his own dignity.
He shook his head, more as a means to get the thoughts out of his head, “No, or you’ll overwork yourself and completely forget everything.” He argued, twirling his pencil around.
Peter slouched, huffing. “I don’t think that’s how that works.” MJ shrugged, closing his chemistry book as a means to say they’re done.
“It’s called burnout, and it’s scientific.” MJ explained, leaned his head back, his durag’s satin texture rubbing up against the wall, “You’re good, Peter.”
The man relented and stretched. His arms reached higher and higher, raising his shirt up and up and up… A silver of skin revealing itself. Something MJ quickly noticed about Peter's shirts, they were a bit too short on him sometimes.
He did not mind it. MJ would even say he was completely normal about it. He’s seen him shirtless before. His heart isn’t beating fast. The bruising once there healed like they were distant memories, just like the one on his face. Selfishly, he noticed the smallest hint of a happy trail leading down to–
“How about we switch?” Peter suddenly spoke,
MJ snapped out of his head, “Huh?”
Peter tilts his head, “Seats? I quiz you this time instead.”
MJ waved him off, face blooming as he began to collect his things “Nah, I’ve studied enough. Unlike you, I am confident in myself.”
Peter threw his head back and laughed, “Yeah, well, if I were as smart and cool as you, I wouldn’t worry either.”
MJ smirked, “You think I’m cool, Parker?”
“Peter and no shit,” Peter replied comfortably, “I’m pretty sure half of the school thought you were cool and mysterious.” Definitely not true with how much Flash tried to pick on him, especially when he joined the basketball team briefly, but Peter’s perception of him made him warm.
MJ chuckled, tilting his head down to avoid showing his blush, “My reputation precedes me.”
“I’m kinda surprised that you don’t have a girlfriend or anything.” MJ paused, Peter noticed it immediately, “Or unless you do? I just assumed you didn't because you never really talked about it.” Neither mentioned partners now that MJ thought of it.
He, like Peter, just assumed that he too was single. Peter talked about Gwen before, in their quietest of moments. Ever since, MJ’s been actively switching gears about the topic. Grief was a tricky thing; it doesn't ever fully go away. He could always see Peter mentally go somewhere else when he brought her up. It wasn’t his place to pry, he remembered Gwen from high school. She was full of life. He’s sure she left a hole Peter hasn't been able to fill yet fully. That's all to say, if Peter did have a girlfriend, he probably would've mentioned her by now.
“Nah, I don’t have a girlfriend,” MJ remarked, trying to sound casual. Hesitantly, he added, “Or boyfriend, been too busy with things.”
“Oh, oh.” MJ didn’t like that.
“Don’t be weird.”
“No! No, I’m not–” Peter sputtered, raising his hands, “I– I’m not homophobic, I just–” MJ cringed.
“You’re making it weirder.” He commented, shaking his head to get Peter to stop talking.
“Well–” Peter still tried again, face getting increasingly red. “Well, like–”
“Peter, it’s fine, really. You don’t need to go on a tangent about how Marsha P. Johnson is your idol.” MJ joked, trying to ease up some of the tension, even if he feels his stomach falling as he does. Peter deflated momentarily before sitting back up.
“Well,” He started, an awkward smile forming on his face, “She is an icon.” MJ snorted a laugh, rolling his eyes playfully.
“Wow, so ally of you to say,” MJ responded dryly. “We thank you for your support.” Peter gave a strained smile at that, fiddling with something in his hands before he looked down between soft chuckles.
“I wouldn’t really say I’m an ally…” He murmured. MJ stopped laughing, “NOT- Not saying I’m homophobic, again! Or like– hate the sin, love the sinner type of person. I’m–” Before he could finish, their phones went off.
They picked up his phone, alarm singing. An amber alert. Two fugitives were on the run after robbing a bank just a couple of blocks down from their area, and they've even taken a kid hostage.
“Jesus,” MJ muttered, “You reading this?” He glances at Peter to find a puzzled look on his face.
“Yeah,” Peter replied vacantly, sounding like he had an idea forming in his mind.
MJ dismissed the notification, knowing that Spiderman would probably be down there any second now and take care of those assholes. When he looked up again, Peter was shooting up out of his chair, gathering things together.
“Woah slow down, superhero”, MJ joked, but the name made Peter flinch, “No need to get all antsy, I’m sure Spiderman’s already got it handled.” But Peter was already moving like he was on a timer. He didn’t even bother to change his clothes, zipping up his jacket over his pyjamas.
Peter shook his head hastily, grabbing his bag, “Uh, no, no, I have to go check on my Aunt.”
“...The one who lives in Queens?” MJ spoke slowly, as if to ask Peter if that even made sense to himself. The man squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, like he’s said too much.
“No, yeah, yeah, she’s got this new boyfriend.” Lie. “And he lives in the area.” Another lie. “So she’s at his house right now, and I gotta– you know. Protect her in case anything happens.” MJ watched him scramble around his room silently.
He crossed his arms, “I’m sure her boyfriend can protect her, Parker–” Peter hopped on one foot as he tried to put a shoe on the other.
“Don’t call me Parker–”
MJ continued anyway, “I don’t think two dudes on the run are gonna stop by people’s houses.” Peter still didn’t slow down, leaving footsteps on the floor with how fast he was pacing around.
“Yeah, well, you never know.” Peter sighed, tumbling towards the door, panting.
He swung the door open and held himself upright with the doorframe, holding it with both hands. He glanced back when he heard MJ smack his teeth; that same apologetic look in his eyes came back.
“Just…don’t move, okay? I’ll be right back.” He was already out the door before MJ could say anything else, leaving him in his own silence.
MJ sat there, sitting in Peter’s bed, pencil in hand, phone in the other, and a lot on his mind. Peter Parker is not straight is the first thing that comes to mind. More importantly, he chided to himself, Peter Parker could be Spider-Man. Or MJ was overreacting. Or he wasn’t, and his crush was actually fucking Spider-Man. He groaned, rubbing the temples of his head. He sounded ridiculous.
Peter came back an hour later, sweaty and exhausted. He went on and on about running down to his Aunt boyfriend’s house and tripping on the way there. Which is why he’s holding his stomach again as he got gut-punched. MJ let him explain himself, ramble about his Aunt’s supposed boyfriend and let Peter push him out of his room with a short ‘Had a great time, see you tomorrow.’
Then, he checked the news, scoured for any reports about– he didn’t know some random dude trying to butt into one of Spiderman’s jobs. Nothing showed up.
“Spider-Man took down the two bank-robbing kidnappers last night. The money and robbers were found this morning stuck to the bank’s wall. The little girl they took hostage has been safely returned to her parents, all thanks to Spiderman.”
He stared at the report. Peter Parker was Spider-Man. Didn’t even sound right in his brain. He’s never met Spiderman, or Peter Parker as Spiderman, before, but he’s seen clips of him. He was always so smooth and quick to joke. It was strange to think Peter was there the whole time. No wonder why he was jacked now, the dude’s been swinging across buildings saving people every day.
He didn’t say anything to Peter about it; he didn’t feel there was a need. MJ got comfortable with letting Peter run off into the distance somewhere, pretending not to notice. One thing he couldn’t wrap his head around for sure was his ability to live a double life like that. School and crime-fighting? Sounds exhausting…
Week 5
Peter stopped disappearing after class altogether, opting to stick with MJ until they got to their dorms for extra time together. It did concern MJ a bit, the city safety and all in the back of his mind, like he was the one with the secret identity. But when he had knocked on Peter’s door only a few minutes after saying goodbye and got no answer, he found out his new escape strategy. And wished he hadn’t let Peter borrow the one pencil he had.
MJ lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, his hands underneath his head. He kinda liked how Peter worked him into his schedule. It signified to him how important he was to Peter. Even though he was a literal superhero, he still found time for MJ or at least tried to. It was sweet. As much as MJ tries to fight it, he is starting to fall for Peter a little bit. Even if the chances of being together were pretty slim, with him being a superhero and all. Though he didn't mind if it meant having Peter as a friend.
He smiled to himself. He’ll have to thank his mom and uncle for talking him out of taking online classes; he probably would’ve never run into Peter again.
MJ's phone pings, his smile widens, already knowing who it was. He thinks about saying ‘Texting on the clock?’ but backs out of it as he picks up his phone. He’ll let Peter come to him when he’s ready.
Pete: I have something Important to tell you.
His eyebrows furrowed, vague as hell but okay. MJ opened the message, tapping away at the screen.
His eyes widened. Guess he was ready now, then. MJ hummed understandingly. There was only so much lying and unexplained injuries he could have before the secret was out. He had to play it cool for Peter’s sake; he could hear his heart racing from here.
Speech bubbles appear, and MJ could already envision Peter sitting on a ledge somewhere, mentally trying to figure out what to say next.
MJ paused, heart, swopping. What. He echoed the same sentiments in text.
He stared at his screen, embarrassment and excitement rising in his chest. Of course, MJ was able to find out Peter Parker was Spider-Man before he was able to find out he had a crush on him. MJ would scold himself more about it if his heart wasn’t beating so fast at the question. So, does this mean you’ll be my boyfriend? His boyfriend, his boyfriend. A thousand thoughts were racking up in his brain. MJ didn’t even pay attention to Peter’s backtracking as he nervously asked the obvious.
MJ shook his head.
He squints at it "I'll talk to you in person, forget what I said earlier, gotta go bye."
MJ sighed and texted “A’ight” before dropping his phone over his chest, tapping his fingers on his phone case. Now he was supposed to wait there in anxiety ridden suspence as Peter probably chased some bad guy down a city block. He rubs his eyes with a tired hand. How did he not notice Peter’s feelings sooner?
MJ must’ve nodded off while waiting, cause when he woke up, his room was pitch black except for the small silver of moonlight peeking in from the windows. His phone, now at his side, was ringing. Must be Peter, He thought to himself, then groggily squirmed around in his bed and grabbed his phone.
He swiped right and pressed it against his ear, “Hello?”
“Hey,” Peter wheezed, voice muffled like he was underwater, “I’m here for that talk.” MJ shot up with a jolt of energy. He sounded just as weak and breathless as he did before. If they do ever get together, MJ doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to this.
He starts moving around his room, looking for anything health aid-related in the dark. “I’ll be right here.”
“No need.”
Before MJ could ask what Peter meant by that, he heard soft knocking at his window. He turned, and there Peter, well, Spider-Man, hanging off the building with his phone in one hand. MJ slowly lowered his phone. The moonlight outlined his shadow, softly illuminating the reds and blues in his suit. The same colour MJ saw on his bed a few days ago. He can’t stop his mouth from hanging ajar even though he knew. The sight was like reality finally crashing down. Peter Parker was Spider-Man.
“Holy shit,” MJ murmured. He was amazed. He finally understood why so many people got so godsmacked at the sight of Spider-Man in those YouTube videos. Even injured, barely hanging on, Peter was sticking to the goddamn wall like something out of a comic book.
“Uh, MJ?” He hears Peter’s quiet voice on his phone, snapping him out of it, “I don’t think we can talk like this.”
MJ blinked, then nodded, “Right, yeah, hol’on.” He threw his phone towards the bed and rushed towards the window. He began to push it up, the cold air rushing into his room with a slight chill on his forearms. The window stopped halfway, but Peter seemed unaffected by that part, at least MJ thinks he is. He couldn’t tell with the mask.
Peter motioned for him to step back, which MJ did, and tried to (heavy emphasis on tried) avoid the miscellaneous items on MJ’s desk. He flinched when he heard something drop, halfway in with his feet planted on the desk, and flinched again when something else fell to the ground too. Once his body was fully in the room, he sat down on the desk fully, back up against the half-open window that definitely doesn’t scare MJ at all.
Just by his posture, MJ could tell Peter was exhausted. So he wasn’t surprised to see tiredness in his eyes when he ripped off the mask. His hair was sticking up in different places just like before, sweat rolled down his face, and his mouth was fixed open as it gulped up the air in the room. His head rolled over to MJ’s direction when his eyes landed on him, hair sticking to the window pane.
Was it bad for MJ to think that Peter like this, panting and injured, staring at him like that, was kinda hot? Yes. He told himself before he could sit in that question.
“Hi.” Peter said breathlessly, “You uh–” He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to get up, stumbling, “Still got a cold pack?”
MJ caught him before he could do any more damage to his room, hands pressed against his shoulders comfortably. He started getting Deja Vu as Peter’s head found its way back to the space between MJ’s shoulder and neck.
“I don’t know,” MJ remarked, “Are you gonna run off before I can do anything with it?” To that, Peter chuckled, which was more a wheeze. His arms wrapped around MJ’s shoulders. Peter felt like he’d fall if he didn’t hold on, MJ felt like he’d float up away
“Don’t, my chest hurts.” Peter breathed out a chuckle, tickling the skin on MJ’s neck. “Sorry for that again, by the way.” He murmured, squeezing on tighter, “Didn’t want you feeling bad about me.”
“Made me feel worse, honestly,” MJ answered, just staring at the window Peter opened, “Thought you were gonna die or something. You know, I was thinking about dragging you to the hospital once you had gone to sleep.”
“That would be smart if I were human.” Peter hummed.
MJ squinted at that, looking down at Peter, his eyes closed. “You still are. For the most part.”
“For the half part.” Peter corrected with a rough sigh. MJ didn’t say anything to that, and they stayed quiet for a moment, just hearing cars drive by down below. He watched Peter; his face wasn’t bruised this time, but he did have a cut on his eyebrow, and he didn’t like how sleepy Peter was getting, even if he was half spider or whatever now.
“Uh, Peter.” With a smile, MJ shook his shoulders slightly as he repeated what Peter told him, “I don’t think we can talk like this.” The superhero snorted at that and dropped his arms. He drifted away from MJ, and just barely could he see a bit of redness glowing in his cheeks.
“Sorry.” Peter said again, with an awkward smile, “I’ll uh, lie myself down, no need for help this time.”
MJ stopped him with a light touch on his shoulder, “Not with that dirty ass suit on, I just washed my sheets.”
Peter groaned, letting MJ stand him back up, “I’m injured, man.” With Peter this close, he could see every detail of his face. He tried to ignore his own mental giddiness. So, does that mean you’ll be my boyfriend?
“Like you said last time, you’ll be fine.” MJ countered, patting the back of Peter’s suit for a zipper or something. The suit is tight, really tight. MJ’s pretty sure there was no shirt in between him and this suit, feeling muscle as he searched. Then he paused, “Do you have anything on under this thing?”
Peter flushed, offended, “Yes! I wear boxers with this! I’m not a prevert!” MJ cracked at the look on his face.
“I’m sorry!” He said, unable to hide his smile, continuing to search. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t swing over here with a second surprise.” He hears an overdramatic scoff.
“Okay, first off.” Peter swatted MJ's hands away and touched around. A large zip erupted from behind him, his arms carefully dragging it down. “I do not swing around the city butt naked under here, that’d be uncomfortable.” He let it go with the end of his sentence, beginning to shrug it off, his skin shining in the dark.
MJ eyed his shoulders. Just to check for bruises, of course.
He glanced back up at him, “Sounds like that’s from experience.”
“Second point,” Peter continued, playfully glaring at him, “Even if I did, I would’ve gone to my window first, then to you, especially since you’re making me do a striptease–”
MJ scoffed, “Don’t flatter yourself, Pete.” Peter shook his head and grabbed his shoulders. He began cautiously stepping out of the suit to avoid any pain, watching his movement.
“You say that, but you’re staring.” He murmured.
“I’m checking for bruises, dickhead.” MJ said, eyes watching Peter’s stomach go taunt when he makes a sudden move, “Who was the one who was confessing his feelings, again?”
Peter flushed, “Shut up.”
They fell into a short moment of silence as Peter finally flaps away the suit like it was the biggest inconvenience of his life at the moment. He let go of MJ’s shoulders and crawled into the bed like an old man. He grunted as his head hit the pillow, a mix of pain and relief covering his face.
MJ watched him for a moment. From what he could see, Peter’s body didn’t look like it had been used as a punching bag. A reassuring observation compared to how he looked before.
“I’ll get the cold pack.” Peter nodded silently at MJ’s words, watching him bend down over his fridge.
The tiny glow of light illuminated some of his room, revealing that a couple of his books and papers had fallen in Peter’s entrance. He made a mental note to clean it up in the morning as he grabbed the cold pack, solid with some frost.
“So, how did you find out I was Spider-Man?” Peter suddenly spoke, voice quieter than before. MJ shrugged, palming in the dark for a towel or fabric to wrap the cold pack in.
“I had some suspicion that something was weird about you when you would just disappear after class. Thought it was weird that I never saw you around campus, too,” MJ said, finally grabbing something that felt like a shirt. “But what really did it was that night you got ‘jumped by the stairs’. And of course, our study night.”
He heard Peter suck his teeth, cringing, “Yeah.” He drawled out as MJ wrapped the cold pack firmly, “My aunt said that I was never a good liar. I tried convincing her I was doing parkour in my free time when she caught me hanging upside down in my room.”
MJ laughed at that, “Yeah, lying isn’t your strong suit.” He smiled, handing the cold pack over to Peter and plopping down beside him, “But that isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”
“Kinda is when you got a secret identity to hide.” Peter grunted at the sharp coldness on his stomach, “I've had a lot of close calls before. I’m not really good at hiding things, I’ve noticed.”
“Once again, not the worst trait to have.” MJ replied, “And I think it’s good to let the important people in your life in on something as big as that.”
Peter shook his head, “Feels like it just ends up with them getting hurt at the end, though,” he sighed.
“Your Aunt May’s not hurt–” MJ countered.
“That’s not considering the future–”
“I'm not hurt.”
“Now look at who's flattering himself,” Peter murmured, like it wasn't true.
“Am I wrong though?” MJ challenged, looking Peter in the eye, “Am I not someone important to you?” The injured man stayed silent for a moment.
“..you are.” He spoke, voice so earnest it bleeds.
MJ considered his next words carefully, “Then how could you not let me know? If we got together, you'd know I'd want to be around you. Talk to you. Text you. Call you, anything.” The words came out too honest, but with the way Peter was looking at him, MJ was willing to spill his heart out for once.
His words seemed to stun Peter out of a response momentarily.
“I'd just say I was busy.” He argued weakly.
MJ shook his head, “That’d be lying, and you know that I’d know.” Peter sighed, “Pete, I like you cause you're yourself. Earnest and smart. You care a lot, a little bit too much, but I don't really give a shit cause you–” MJ sighed, “You make that look cool. And it'd hurt me if you ever lied to me.”
Peter stays silent, and for a moment, MJ thinks he's said the wrong thing. He had that look in his face again, turning gears and all that.
Then he said, “You like me too.”
MJ scoffed, “Yeah, yeah, I like you too.”
“I was saying that more as a statement than a question, but nice to hear it from your mouth.” A big and warm smile spread across Peter’s face.
“Did you pay attention to anything else I just said?” MJ scolded lightly.
“Yes,” Cautiously, Peter got up, “And I...” he stopped, then tried again, “I don't know M. I just– I'm scared for you, and I don't want this.” He emphasised his body with a hand, “to fuck it up.”
“It won't.”
“You don't know that.”
“It won't," MJ repeated, grabbing his hand, “Cause we'll make sure it won't.” Peter smiled, “There's this really cool thing, I don't know if you've heard it before, called communication.”
Peter rolled his eyes, “Shut up.”
“Its innovative really–”
“I’m going to get up and put on my suit for the sole purpose of fucking your sheets.” Peter threatened.
MJ raised his arms, “I'm just trynna put you onto something new.” Peter side-eyed him, ghost of a smile on his lips.
They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment. Then–
“I'm sorry, how did you notice that I was Spider-Man but not the fact that I liked you?”
“Keep talking, and I'll kick you out”
Bonus
