Peter
The shower burns horribly, but Peter knows it’s necessary. He feels disgusting. He stands with his back under the spray until the water isn’t tinged red with blood anymore. He washes his hair twice before it feels clean. He scrubs everywhere he can reach with soap until his skin is pink. He has to sit down on the side of the tub a couple of times. He hasn’t eaten or slept in too long and he’s getting a little dizzy.
Once he’s finished, he gets out of the shower to find the softest towels he’s ever felt in his life and a set of very soft clothes that Peter is assuming belong to Mr. Stark. He dries and puts on the clothes very gingerly, before making it back out into the room and pretty much collapsing on top of the bed. He needs to lay down for a few minutes before trying to get back out to the living room.
Despite the hunger, he doesn’t even really know if he wants to go back out into the living room. What’s going to happen when he does? Mr. Stark has made it very clear he doesn’t want to be Peter’s father. He said it straight to his face. The only reason he’s in the tower right now is either pity from the humiliating state the man found him in earlier, or some kind of sense of obligation. Either way, its not going to last for very long. Mr. Stark will surely get tired of him living here soon and ship him off somewhere else, not that Peter would really blame him. He knows he’s a disappointment.
He’s so anxious. He has no idea how much longer he has here and he has no idea where he can even go. He’s not going back into foster care, that’s for sure. Maybe Ned will be back from vacation by then and he can bounce between his and MJ houses for a while. That’ll give him some time to form a better plan.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Peter awakens suddenly to a dark room, breathing heavily. He looks around in a panic, but he can’t see anything. Oh fuck, he’s still in the closet. He never got out. He’s trapped. He scrambles back, trying to escape his fate, when his back hits something soft. Pillows.
His breathing starts to slow again as he remembers what happened. His dad came and got him out, and now he’s in a bedroom at the tower. He didn’t mean to fall asleep though. His eyes start to adjust to the room and he can see now that the lights have been turned off and the curtains drawn. He looks down at his lap and sees a soft fleece blanket over his legs that he doesn’t remember having before he fell asleep.
“Friday?” He asks to the empty room.
“Yes, Peter?” Her calming voice comes from all around him.
“What time is it?” He asks, still sounding groggy from his nap.
“It is 6:12 in the evening. Boss requested I pass on the message that there is food for you in the kitchen whenever you are ready.”
Peter nods, rubbing his eyes. He’s still afraid of what’s going to happen, but his hunger is outweighing all other things right now, and whatever is being made in the kitchen smells amazing.
He opens the door a crack and peeks out. He peers down the hall into the kitchen where there’s a pot on the stove. He can’t see his dad, but he can hear his heartbeat in the room. He shuffles down the hallway out into the living area, where his dad is sitting on the couch with one of his holographic screens in front of him, lost in thought.
It takes him a second before he notices Peter standing there, but when he does, he immediately swipes away what he was doing and stands up. “Hey, kiddo. How are you feeling?” He asks anxiously as he hurries to Peter’s side.
“A little better now.” Peter responds. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep earlier.”
“Hey, no apologies.” Mr. Stark says sternly. “I’m glad you got some sleep. Are you hungry?”
Peter nods. “Starving. Whatever is in the kitchen smells really good.”
Mr. Stark looks like he’s going to reach out towards Peter to put an arm around him, but then changes his mind and just waves him towards the kitchen instead.
“Come on over. I’ll get you a bowl.”
Peter goes to his usual place at the island and his dad puts a glass of water and a steaming bowl of soup in front of him. Peter wastes no time before digging in. He hasn’t eaten in so long, and the soup is amazing. It’s exactly what he needs right now. He didn’t realize how fast he must be scarfing down the food until he practically senses his dad smirking at him from across the island.
“I’m glad you like my cooking so much.” The man says with a smug smile. Peter doesn’t have it in him right now to make some kind of snarky comment back, but he’s happy to see that his dad does. It dissolves some of the tension he was feeling.
He just nods his agreement. “It’s delicious, Mr. Stark. Thank you for making it.”
“No problem, kid.” Mr. Stark replies, scooping himself a bowl. “It was my mothers, um…your grandmothers…recipe.” The man trails off uncomfortably. The tension that Peter was feeling is immediately back in full force and hits him like a wall. Mr. Stark just acknowledged that Peter is his kid, which is good he supposes? But he also sounded super awkward and uncomfortable about it. Should he respond? It’s already been an awkwardly long time. He should probably say something.
“Um, yeah. It’s,uh, really good.”
Peter internally curses himself. Why did he say it like that? Just be normal.
His dad just nods in acknowledgement, not saying anything.
The silence continues through their entire meal, the only sound being the scraping of spoons against the bowls. As soon as Peter is finished, he jumps at the chance to put his dishes away and get out of there.
“Mr. Stark?” He asks cleaning his throat. The man looks up at him expectantly. “Can I go to bed early? I’m still pretty tired from…you know.”
A look of relief flashes across the man’s face, which honestly makes Peter feel worse. Is he really that unwelcome here?
“Of course, kiddo. You can do whatever you want, don’t have to ask me permission. Let me know if you need anything though, okay?”
“Yeah, okay. Thanks.” Peter responds, trying not to rush out of there as quickly as he wants to. Once he’s finally back in the bedroom with the door closed, he can finally let out the breath he feels like he’s been holding since they started dinner.
He sinks to the floor up against the door, letting the back of his head hit the wood with a thud. That was so awkward and horrible and is this just the way things are going to be now? He misses the way things were before. Things were really really good, and then he had to go and ruin it all.
He shakes his head to himself. No sense in dwelling on it now. It’s not like he can go back and change things. He just has to take everything as it comes and try to be okay in the end. That’s what he’s always done, and that’s what he’s planning on doing again.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
When he wakes up again, it’s thankfully not from another nightmare. It’s from his growling stomach. He climbs out of the extremely comfortable bed and peers out the window. The view really is amazing. They’re so high up and he can see so much of the city. It’s dark outside so he can see all the lights shining below. He’s not sure what time it is exactly, but it looks late.
His stomach growls again. His body must be working extra hard to heal him, with all the food and sleep it’s demanding. Mr. Stark has always told him he’s welcome to any food in his kitchen, so he hopes that rule hasn’t changed with the recent developments.
He listens at his door and is thankful there’s nothing but silence on the other end. His dad must be asleep, or maybe in the lab depending on what time it is. He opens the door a crack and slips out into the darkness. Friday turns the lights in the kitchen on low automatically as he approaches and he goes straight for the fridge. Hopefully there’s something in here other than the rest of that soup. It was delicious, but he doesn’t think he can stomach the reminder of the whole grandmother incident.
When he opens the door, he surprised to see a container with a note with his name on it. He pulls it out so he can see it better. He can see the container contains a couple of sandwiches, and the note reads:
“Peter,
In case you get hungry for a midnight snack.”
Peter suddenly feels a swell of emotions inside of him. He can’t remember the last time someone went out of their way to make sure he eats enough or wrote him a little note about something, and it makes him so pissed off and the world. He tries really hard to just be thankful and accepting of everything that happens to him, because he knows other people have it way worse, but why does he have to be so close to everything he wants and know he doesn’t get to have it? He doesn’t want to want this kind of thing so badly. He shouldn’t need it. It’s not even important, and he’s a teenager. But he does, despite everything. He wants someone to pack him food with little notes, and come to all his stupid school functions, and to hug him and tell him they love him when he goes to bed every night. He feels his eyes start to well up and he immediately cuts off this line of thinking, wiping away the tears. He takes his container of food back to the room and forces himself to think of anything else than these stupid selfish desires he has. Before he goes to sleep though, he takes the note off the lid and puts it in the drawer of his nightstand for safe keeping.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
The next time he wakes up in the guest room at Stark Tower, there’s sunlight streaming through the window and he actually feels well rested for the first time in days. He spends a few minutes in bed, convinced he’s never been this comfortable in his entire life, before having to get up to use the bathroom.
After he’s finished, he catches his own gaze in the mirror which he was very purposefully ignoring yesterday. He looks pretty bad, but he’s sure he looks better than before. His face is thin and he still has dark circles under his eyes. He pulls up his shirt and is really pleasantly surprised by how healed everything is. The lashes on his back have completely closed and the bruises encircling his ribcage have faded from a deep purple to a pale yellow-brown color. He stretches out a bit and finds he’s still a bit sore, but nothing that will hold him back from anything. He should be completely fine by tomorrow if he had to guess. It’s amazing what some real food and sleep will do for you.
Speaking of food, he’s not sure what time it is, but his stomach is demanding another meal. He goes to his bedroom door to complete his new routine of listening through the wood to see if his dad is out there, and he can here the man in the living room pacing around and talking. He doesn’t sound happy.
He doesn’t hear another voice, so Peter is assuming he’s on the phone and doesn’t have a visitor. It should be fine if he goes out there to get some food and then he can continue hiding out in the bedroom. He cracks the door and slips out into the hallway.
“I’ve told you already, you won’t be allowed in until I say so. I’m not a man you want to test the patience of, especially not right now.” He hears coming from the other room. Mr. Stark sounds really pissed.
“Oh is that right?” The man asks, sarcasm dripping out of every word. “Where were you last time then? When he was with those people literally torturing him for an entire year? Or the two years before that when he was with abusive families too? Don’t think I’ve forgotten your role in this. You’re lucky I don’t have you included in the case for child endangerment.”
There’s a pause as the person on the other end is speaking. Is Mr. Stark talking to his case worker? Thats the only person he can think of. He continues down the hallway until he can see the man furiously pacing back and forth through the living room, surrounded by what appear to be shopping bags.
“I’ll send you everything you need, everything I told you I would. Is that not enough for you people?”
There’s another pause before his dad lets out a frustrated sigh, running his hand not on the phone through his hair in a stressed fashion. “Fine. 30 minutes max though, got it?”
Mr. Stark glances up and finally sees Peter standing there, waiting at the corner to the hallway.
“Hey look, I need to go. I’ll be in touch.” He tells the person on the phone really quickly before hanging up and shoving it back into his pocket. He looks up to Peter with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Morning, Underoos. How’d you sleep?” He asks, closing the distance between them and ushering Peter towards the kitchen.
“Oh, uh, fine.” Peter responds quietly. “The bed is really comfortable.”
“I’m glad you like it.” Mr. Stark replies. “Can I make you some breakfast?”
“That’s okay.” Peter rushes to say. “I can make my own.” The last thing he wants is to be a bother. Mr. Stark just gives him a disapproving look.
“You’re not making your own breakfast.” He says. “You’re injured. Besides, I haven’t eaten yet either.”
Peter reluctantly sits down and waits patiently for his food. A few minutes later, Mr. Stark slides a plate with an omelet on it in front of him and a glass of orange juice.
He takes a few bites by the time Mr. Stark slides into the stool next to his and starts eating his own.
“Thank you for making me breakfast. It’s really good.” He says quietly, not wanting the meal to fall into the awkward silence of the last meal they shared.
“I figured I better make omelets instead of trying to repeat the incident with the pancakes a few months ago.” The man says, clearly trying to ease up the mood in the room. Peter has been focusing on something else though.
“Who were you talking to on the phone earlier?” He asks hesitantly, not sure if his questioning will be welcome.
Mr. Stark doesn’t seem angry at him asking, though. He just shakes his head and continues eating his omelet. “That was nothing you need to worry about, kid.”
Well that did not answer his question. Maybe he needs to take a more direct approach.
“Was that my case worker?” He asks again.
Mr. Stark grimaces. “Yeah, it was.” He answers, but doesn’t elaborate.
“What did she want?” Peter prods further, wondering why Mr. Stark is trying to keep this from him.
“She’s insisting on coming here tomorrow to see you.” The man answers, and Peter’s appetite is gone instantly.
This is it, he thinks. He thought he would have more time, but Miss Rachel is coming here tomorrow to take him away again. She’s going to try to force him into a new foster family. He can’t linger on the disappointment he’s feeling. He’s not going back to foster care, ever. He can’t go through that again. If she’s coming tomorrow, then he’ll just have to be gone by then.
“How are you feeling today?” Mr. Stark cuts off his train of thought. “Healed up any?”
Peter shoves another bite of food in his mouth and nods. He pulls his shirt up so the man can see for himself.
Mr. Stark was in the middle of taking a sip of his coffee when he glances over and sees Peter’s torso, and he immediately starts choking and coughing on his drink. It takes him a minute to get over it, and when he does, he’s still looking at Peter with a horrified expression.
“Yeah, looks much better today.” He chokes out, but he really doesn’t look like he believes that.
“It feels much better today.” Peter replies truthfully.
Mr. Stark looks down at the rest of his omelet after that, but he must decide he’s not hungry anymore because he gets up and throws the rest of it away. Peter is finished so he passes the man his plate when he reaches for it.
“Come with me over here.” Mr. Stark tells him when the dishes are done, motioning towards the living room. “I got a surprise for you.”
Peter scrunched up his forehead in confusion, but he gets up to follow the man anyway. A surprise? For him?
Mr. Stark leads him over to the shopping bags and picks one up, dropping it into Peter’s arms.
“I had these delivered for you this morning.” He says. “Go on, open them up.”
Peter looks at them warily before opening the bag and pulling out it’s contents. This one just has a few packs of socks and underwear. Mr. Stark glances over his shoulder.
“Oh, that’s a boring one. Still important though. Look through some others.”
Peter puts the bag down and picks up another. This one has a few different T-shirts with silly science jokes on them like the one he has now that May and Ben got for him that he loves so much. He keeps digging through bags, and he has an entire new wardrobe in here, and not a small one either. Some of the bags are labeled from more expensive places too.
He’s speechless for a moment.
“Do you like any of it?” Mr. Stark asks him, noticing his silence. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, since, well, I’m guessing you haven’t been clothes shopping in a long time. I just got you stuff to get you started, but we can get different things if you don’t like any of it.”
“Mr. Stark, I-I can’t accept all this. It must’ve been so expensive.” Peter stammers out, still staring at the huge pile of bags at his feet.
Mr. Stark scoffs. “Pete, I’m literally a billionaire. This is just pocket change to me. Just keep it. Unless you hate it. Then, I don’t know, give it to charity or something. But it’s all yours to do with what you will.”
“Wow.” Peter says, almost unintentionally. It just slipped out. “I don’t know what to…thank you.” He looks up at the man. Mr. Stark is just standing there looking very uncomfortable at Peter’s gratitude.
“It was really nothing, kid. It’s the least I could do. Why don’t you take all this back to your room?”
“Yeah, I should, uh, shower anyway.” Peter says, trying to come up with an excuse on the spot. He needs to get away for a few minutes.
He grabs all the bags and hurries back to the bedroom that he’ll only get for one more night, dropping the bags on the floor and shutting the door behind him.
Why would Mr. Stark do all of this? Does he feel guilty about sending Peter back to foster care tomorrow? He clearly doesn’t know that no foster kid is even allowed to take this many clothes with them.
He doesn’t bother putting them away since he’s leaving tonight anyway. He’ll take a few things with him, whatever will fit in his backpack, but the rest Mr. Stark can return and get his money back once Peter is gone.
He does take his shower like he says he will, a long one, to make up for the fact that he doesn’t know when or where he’ll get another. When he gets out, he sorts through the bags and gets some new underwear, really soft jogger sweatpants, and a T-shirt that says “the physics is theoretical but the fun is real.” It’s super nerdy, but he supposes he is a nerd so it’s okay.
He gets his backpack out and empties it completely. If he’s going on the run, he needs to only take the essentials. He packs a toothbrush, toothpaste, and deodorant from the bathroom, his phone after he turns it off, May and Ben’s wedding rings, and a picture of his family at May and ben’s wedding. Them and his mom side by side, little baby Peter in her arms. Then he starts packing as many clothes as will fit. He makes sure to include socks and underwear, a few shirts (shirt and long sleeve), a pair of jeans, a couple pairs of shorts, and some jackets. It’s warm now, but he doesn’t know what’s going to happen to him by winter. Better to be prepared. He’s thankful Mr. Stark got him a new backpack a couple months ago, because his other one never would’ve survived this trip.
When he’s done, he hides the bag under his bed and looks at things on his bed that came out of the backpack that are never going back in. His spider suit and the credit card that Mr. Stark gave him. His two life lines for the past 9 months he’s pretty sure. They can’t come with him. The credit card would do nothing except attract thieves since he wouldn’t be able to use it, and the spider suit Peter desperately wants to bring, but it’s another way that Mr. Stark can easily track him down. He can’t have that. The man will make him come back so he can go to another foster home.
He puts them both on the dresser so they’ll be found later. He takes a deep breath, steels himself against whatever else happens today, and leaves the bedroom behind. He just needs to make it through the rest of the day with his father without letting him in on the plan, and he’ll leave in the middle of the night when it’s safe.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
By the end of the day when it’s finally an appropriate time to make the excuse that he’s going to be, he slips back into the bedroom for the last time, shutting the door behind him. He gets out his phone and turns it on one more time before he leaves. He’ll keep it off after this so Mr. Stark can’t use it to track him, but he still wants it for emergencies.
He opens MJs contact and hits call, hoping desperately that she answers. After a few rings, he hears her voice on the other line.
“Hey, Peter. What’s up?” She asks. He can hear concern in her voice. It’s not typical of him to call her at all, let alone this late. They mostly text.
“Hey MJ.” He replies, trying his best not to sound as nervous as he feels. “Listen, I have a favor to ask. A big favor. So feel free to say no, because I totally understand-“
“Shut up, loser.” She interrupts him, but her voice sounds fond and teasing, not angry. “Just tell me what it is and I’ll tell you if I can help.”
“I need a place to stay.” Peter blurts out. “I can’t stay where I’m at right now. I don’t think I ever will be able to again. I would have gone to Ned but he doesn’t get back from vacation until Wednesday.”
After a second when he doesn’t hear her reply, he opens his mouth to take back the request. He knows it’s really a lot to ask, but MJ speaks before he gets a chance.
“Of course you can stay here. Come in through the fire escape. It’s the third window from the left on the fourth floor of the building. I’ll leave it open for you. You remember where the building is?”
Peter is so overcome with relief that he can barely get out his answer. “Uh yeah, I remember the building. I’ll see you soon. And MJ? Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
“I think i do.” Is her quiet reply. “See you soon, loser. Stay safe.” Then she hangs up. Third window from the left on the fourth floor. Got it.
He throws on a black hoodie from his new clothes pile, grabs his backpack out from under the bed, and takes a look around. He hasn’t been in this room yet, but the tower has been like a second home to him since the beginning of the year. He has no idea when he’ll get to come back, if ever. And his dad…
No, he can’t think about his dad right now. The man doesn’t want him, and that’s all he needs to know. He clenches his jaw and forces himself to go through with his plan. He opens the window and lets himself drop into the darkness below.
He doesn’t have a mask on him, so he keeps his hood pulled up over his face as he webs a wall and quickly lowers himself to the ground. It’s not super late, so there are still plenty of people around. His spider sense is quiet, though, so he’s pretty confident he wasn’t seen. He drops down into an alley next to the tower and sets off towards Queens. He knows the way well from all his trips from his school to the tower. It takes him a while on foot, but he finally makes it to MJs building. He can see the open window from here. He scampers up the fire escape and peeks in the open window, knocking on it at the same time.
Her face appears from the other side of the room.
“Peter!” She whispers, and grabs at his arm to pull him inside. She sticks her head out the window and looks all around to make sure no one saw before closing it again. Then, she turns around and throws her arms around his shoulders. He’s so shocked he barely has enough time to reciprocate the hug before she’s pulling back suddenly and stepping away from him.
“Are you okay?” She asks worriedly. “What happened?”
Peter feels his face flush at all the attention. He hopes she doesn’t notice.
“Uh, y-yeah. I’m fine.” Cursing himself for stuttering. Why does he always sound like such a loser around her?
“Do you want to talk about what happened?” She asks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Wow she’s pretty when she does that. She’s looking at him expectantly. Oh yeah, she asked him a question. He clears his throat and tries to get over himself.
“Uh it’s kind of complicated.” He says sheepishly, running his hand over the back of his head.
“Was it your foster parents? Were they…you know.” She trails off with a half shrug. Peter had never spoken to her about this before, but he just gets the feeling that she understands.
“Uh, yeah.” He answers, looking away. “They’re going to jail, I think.”
“Oh.” She says quietly, still mostly whispering through the quiet room. “That’s good.”
“…yeah. I guess it is.” He responds.
“So if they’re in jail now, then why are you here?” She asks kindly. “Not that I don’t want you here, I’m just curious I guess. You don’t have to tell me.”
“No, it’s fine.” He cuts her off. “My case worker is moving me to a new home tomorrow and I just…I couldn’t do it, MJ. I can’t do that again.”
She nods her head like a decision has been made. “Okay. Okay, you can stay here as long as you need. As long as we can keep it a secret from my dad. And when Ned gets back from Florida I’m sure he’ll say the same thing. You can go back and forth so you’re not caught.”
Peter breathes out a sigh of relief as he feels the tension start to leave his body. He doesn’t have to live on the streets. Not right now at least.
“Thank you, MJ. Really. Thank you.” He says, pouring as much gratitude into his words as he possibly can.
Her cheeks get a little pink at his words. “You’d do the same for me I’m sure.”
“I would.” He agrees with a nod.
They stand there a moment across from each other, just looking at each other.
“I’m gonna go, uh, get some extra blankets from the closet. We can make you a bed on the floor.” MJ announces suddenly, as if she just realized what they were doing and was embarrassed.
“Right, right.” Peter agrees, also backing away from that weird moment. Thanks.”
She comes back a moment later, arms full of fluffy blankets and pillows. She drops everything on the floor and locks the door behind her.
“Just in case my dad, like, tries to come in or something. He doesn’t usually, but just in case.”
They spend the next few minutes building Peter a bed on the floor next to MJ’s. By the time they’re done and Peter is comfortably laying his pile of pillows and blankets, it’s getting really late.
“Hey, Peter?” MJ asks from above him, in the comfort of her own bed.
“Yeah, MJ?” He responds.
“I was just thinking…did you tell Stark about what happened? I bet he would let you stay with him.”
Peter’s whole body tenses at the reminder. He doesn’t blame MJ for bringing it up, but it still hurts all the same. “Yeah, he knows.” He replies, trying not to sound too bitter. “He was the one who found out.”
“Oh.” She replies, surprised. “And he didn’t offer to take you in? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not the man’s biggest fan, but it’s obvious he really cares about you.”
Peter shrugs, even though he knows she can’t see him in the dark of the room. “It’s really complicated. Maybe he would’ve, but I did something to him. I lied and broke his trust. Now I don’t know if he’ll be able to forgive me.”
MJ reaches over and turns on her bedside lamp for just a little bit of light, and she leans over the side to look at him. “Peter, I saw you two that day of the party. Not only did he throw you an entire party for making it through one semester of high school, but it was so obvious that he loves you. There’s no way you did something completely unforgivable.”
He sighs. Of course she doesn’t understand this part of what he’s going through. Literally no one can. Who else is the secret son of a billionaire super hero who accidentally hid it from him for half a year?
“I can’t explain it, MJ, but I ruined things with him. I can never go back there.”
She rolls his eyes at him. “Oh please. What did you do that’s so bad?”
“I really can’t tell you. I can’t tell anyone. Ned is the only one who knows.” He insists.
“Peter, you’re sleeping on my floor while I hide you from CPS. Don’t you think we’re past this?” She asks teasingly with no real anger behind it, but it gets Peter thinking. She’s probably right. They probably are past this. And Ned isn’t here to tell him how to fix things. Maybe MJ could help. She’s super smart after all. He really is tired though, and this would be a long conversation. There have already been enough truths that have come out tonight.
“Can I tell you in the morning?” He asks.
She smirks, knowing she’s won. “Of course. You can tell me over breakfast. My dad leaves for work early. Try to get some sleep.” She tells him. She reaches over to her table again and turns off the lamp with a click. He really should get some sleep. He’s going to need it.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
Peter is not surprised when instead of getting the sleep he wanted, he actually just dozed on and off until MJ woke up. He supposed he better get used to it since this is just the way life is going to be from now on.
MJ gets up slowly. She goes out to the hall bathroom to shower, and when she comes back she announces that her dad is gone and Peter can come use the bathroom too if he wants. He doesn’t shower. He doesn’t really feel like he needs to yet, but he does brush his teeth and take another look at his torso in the mirror. He can barely tell anything happened anymore. There are just a few little spots here and there. He yanks his shirt back down and goes back out to MJ. He still owes her an explanation and he’s positive she hasn’t forgotten about that.
When he leaves the bathroom, he follows the noises he hears to the kitchen. MJ is pouring them bowls of cereal and putting them at the kitchen table across from each other.
“So,” she says as soon as he sits down. “Explain your thing with Stark.”
“Geez, impatient.” Peter replies sarcastically.
MJ rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “You’ve had me waiting all night, loser. That’s plenty patient.”
Peter shrugs. “Yeah, you’re right.”
Peter has had the whole night to think things over to, and he’s decided that he’s sure telling MJ is the right thing to do. She’s one of his best friends and she deserves to know too. He doesn’t want her finding out later and thinking he didn’t trust her or something. Of course he does. He really doesn’t want to talk about it right now, but MJ is worth it.
“Okay, MJ. I’m going to tell you something because I trust you and I think you deserve to know, but it’s something that absolutely has to stay a secret, okay?”
He waits for her nod before continuing. “Literally only two people know, Ned and Mr. Stark…and colonel Rhodes but that’s irrelevant. I really want to tell you…yeah. I’m just going to tell you. MJ, I-“
“Am Spider-Man”
“Am Tony Stark’s son.”
“What?!” They both exclaim at once, Peter dropping his spoon full of cereal and neither one of them pay any attention as it clatters across the ground
“You’re Tony Stark’s actual kid?!” MJ asks loudly, standing up from the table.
“You think I’m Spider-Man?!” Peter replies, standing up as well.
“Well, aren’t you?” MJ asks accusingly, getting flustered. “I’ve been watching you for, like, a while now, and I thought it was pretty obvious, but maybe I was wrong.” She says, eyes growing wide. “You’re really Tony Stark’s son? Like no joke you’re being 100% serious right now because it’s not funny.”
“No I’m not joking, MJ.”
“Because I was like 67% sure you were Spider-Man but this just makes so much sense.”
“What makes sense?” Peter asks with huff.
“You being Stark’s son.” She replies. “Everything suspicious about you. The bodyguard that picks you up, the super secret internship that you lie about how you got, the fact that you personally know one of the richest men on the planet. Not that you’re not smart enough to have the internship, I know you are, it’s just, what are the chances that Tony Stark notice some random high schooler he has no connection to?”
Peter scoffs. “The internship is totally real!” He exclaims, kind of offended that even MJ didn’t believe him. “I didn’t tell Mr. Stark that I was his son until last week. This is the whole problem. I knew and he didn’t.”
MJ gets a confused look on her face again. “Soo…you are Spider-Man?”
“What?” Peter exclaims. “I’m not Spider-Man!”
“Well if Stark didn’t know you were his son until last week then all the shady stuff that made me think you were Spider-Man in the first place still applies.” She accuses.
“That’s just ridiculous.” He says scoffing, but his voice raises about an octave despite his efforts to remain calm. “I’m not Spider-Man.”
All of a sudden, MJs phone starts ringing loudly from the kitchen table. Without losing eye contact with Peter, she shuffles over and grabs it before glancing down at the name. Her eyes widen and she shows the phone screen to Peter.
Tony Stark.
“Why is your dad calling me, Peter?” She demands.
“Because I was with him yesterday and then I ran off last night without telling him where I was going.” Peter blurts out.
“What the fuck, Peter?!” She yells. “You ran away from Tony Stark?!”
“Yes! Okay? And he can’t know I’m here! Please!” He practically begs.
“Fine, you want me to owe you another favor? Then I want the truth. Are you Spider-Man yes or no?” She waves the ringing phone in front of his face.
“Yes! I’m spider-man!”
“…what?! You’re serious?!” She yells back, turning away to pace around for a second.
“Answer the phone and tell him I’m not here!” Peter hisses at her like he’s afraid Mr. Stark will be able to hear him before she even answers the phone, which Peter isn’t entirely sure he can’t do.
Still with wide, panicking eyes, MJ swipes the phone open and puts it on speaker.