There were four minutes left until the donut shop closed, but MJ couldn’t start cleaning up until after all the customers had vacated the premises - and she knew full well that Peter Parker had finished his small black coffee well over two hours ago. He’d been sitting in his usual spot by the bulletin board, brow furrowed in concentration as he bent over a thick textbook. A stray curl dangled over his forehead as he sighed and erased another answer he’d just scribbled down. MJ had to admit, it was kind of cute.
“So, are you gonna kick him out?” Ned stage-whispered over the counter. “We have tickets for the new Jordan Peele movie in thirty minutes.”
MJ sighed and swiped down the counter, brushing a few stray crumbs onto the floor. “I can’t for another four minutes, Ned. Besides, I feel kind of bad. He’s been stuck on that problem for five minutes now.”
“Why does he even come here to study anyways?” Ned asked. “This is a donut shop. But he only ever gets coffee.”
MJ studied the other boy again. His face was a perfect picture of someone in crisis; one that she might’ve drawn if she wasn’t minutes away from finishing her shift. It looked oddly like one she’d found in her sketchbook before, but she couldn’t remember the boy’s name for her life. “Maybe he finds your constant blabbering about Star Wars LEGOs soothing.”
“Who doesn’t want to hear about the new Mandalorian baby Yoda set?” Ned shot back, momentarily forgetting his gripe with Peter’s study habits in his offense. MJ laughed and walked over to Peter’s table, leaning over his shoulder to check out his textbook.
“Hey, just so you know we’re closing in a couple minutes,” she said, attempting what she hoped was a friendly smile when he jerked up to look at her with wide eyes and bright red cheeks. “And the answer’s seventy-two, by the way. You were forgetting a negative sign on the forty.”
“T-thanks,” he stammered, marking down the answer quickly and shoving the book shut. MJ noted the textbook title, “Studying for Your GED,” with a bit of surprise before he pushed it into his bag.
“Take your time,” she said, offering another smile. Ned looked at her imploringly, mouthing "Jordan Peele tickets" over the counter, but she just shook her head at him. “I’ll just be cleaning up back here.”
“Don’t worry, I should leave anyways,” Peter said, an embarrassed blush pinking his cheeks. “Have a good one.”
“You too,” she called back automatically, and Ned gave a little wave. The formality felt a little awkward in her mouth - Peter had only been coming in regularly for a few weeks, but there was something so familiar about him - but she brushed it off as she triumphantly switched the “open” sign to “closed.”
“Yes!” Ned pumped his fist. “Operation: Movie is a-go.”
“Don’t you think there’s something weird about that guy?” MJ mused as she began flipping chairs upside-down onto the tables.
Ned laughed. “Besides the fact he introduced himself by his first and last name the first time he ordered coffee? No, definitely not.”
“He can’t be any older than us, and he’s studying for his GED,” MJ noted. “What’s up with that? Is he a high-school dropout or something?”
“Wait, I’ll check his Instagram to see if he goes to high school around here,” Ned said, helpfully sitting at the counter while she finished putting up the chairs. “Peter Parker, right? That’s so weird. There’s like, no accounts under Peter Parker at all.”
“Maybe he’s not a social media guy,” MJ offered. She’d only posted on her own Instagram once or twice, anyways. Ned was already typing ‘Peter Parker’ into every search engine he could find, but to no avail. “He’s not on Facebook or Twitter, either. And Google has literally nothing to say on him. It’s like he doesn’t even exist!”
That piqued MJ’s interest, and she stopped wiping down the coffee machines for a moment to look over Ned’s shoulder at the blank page of search results. “Weird just gets weirder,” she said, thinking of the boy who’d started coming in nearly every day for the past three weeks - always when she was on shift - and who she sometimes caught staring absentmindedly in hers or Ned’s direction. “Hey, we can see Jordan Peele anytime. I want to know just who Peter Parker really is.”
* * *
Two more hours of research at Ned’s house turned up frustratingly little on Peter Parker. MJ had always loved enigmas, but this boy was basically invisible: he had no footprint on the Internet whatsoever, not even in birth records or eulogies. Ned did some light hacking into the various Queens high schools’ databases, but none of them had any record of a student by the same name.
MJ stared at their pathetically small bulletin board, which just had a piece of paper with the name “Peter Parker,” and a short description of his physical characteristics pinned on it. They didn’t even have a picture to go with the name. A knot of red yarn that Ned stole from his grandma’s knitting closet sat unused on the desk. “How the hell are we supposed to find this guy when he literally does not exist?” She wondered aloud.
“Maybe he’s an undocumented immigrant?” Ned mused. She shot him a disparaging look. “What, from like England or something? Maybe? Okay, well it’s at least worth writing down, isn’t it?”
MJ sighed and jotted down “undocumented immigrant” on a piece of paper. “That still doesn’t explain the complete lack of Internet records or social media.”
“Is it weird that we’re lowkey stalking a guy who just comes to get coffee at your place every week?” Ned asked. “Like, weird Stan gets a chocolate donut every day. And we don’t stalk him.”
MJ rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but we know weird Stan. If we wanted to, we could find him on Facebook. There’s something off about Peter Parker. I get this strange nostalgia whenever I look at him. My chest…hurts.”
“Ooh, someone’s got a crush,” Ned teased, but his momentary bravado faltered under the heat of her withering glare. “Now that you mention it, though, I kind of get the same feeling. And he always looks so sad, like he’s going to cry whenever he orders a coffee.”
“I would cry too if I were spending $5 a day on shitty black coffee,” MJ said, but she privately agreed. Peter seemed like he was perpetually on the verge of tears. Maybe it was just the GED studying, though.
“Okay, how about this. Next time Peter comes in, we should try to get some more info out of him. Like not enough to be creepy, but just to figure him out. Maybe he needs some friends,” Ned shrugged. “One time I saw him wearing a Star Wars shirt. That would be such a good icebreaker!”
“Deal,” MJ said, contemplating the board one last time before forcing her eyes away. “As long as you don’t open with the Star Wars.”
“Hey!”
* * *
Peter Parker broke his three-week study streak at MJ’s donut shop when he didn’t show up the next day, or the one after. When he finally did, two hours before MJ’s shift ended on a Friday night, he came in with a black hoodie pulled up over his face and a limp in his right leg.
“What can I get for you, Peter Parker?” MJ asked, even though he always ordered the same thing.
He smiled weakly at her, wincing when it stretched a split in his lower lip. “Can I - can I just get a small black - ”
“Coffee, yeah, I got it. Are you okay?” She asked, squinting into the shadows of his hoodie. She could’ve sworn she saw a black eye. From the other end of the counter, Ned perked up and looked over in their direction.
“Y-yeah,” he stammered, seemingly surprised that she’d noticed. “Apartment stairs, you know. It happens.” He attempted another smile, and MJ winced when it finally split the scab on his lip open and began to swell with fresh blood.
“Hold on. You need a band-aid for that, or something. I’ll get your coffee - Ned, can you grab the first-aid kit? It’s just behind the counter,” MJ said. “Peter, sit.”
Again, those tear-filled eyes, looking like he had just watched a small animal die. MJ’s heart fluttered. He slid painfully onto one of the counter stools as Ned scrambled for the kit.
“I don’t know if you’ve met. Peter Parker, this is my best friend from school - ” best friend tasted strange in her mouth, like there should’ve been someone else there too “ - Ned Leeds. Ned, Peter.”
“Nice to meet you, man,” Peter said, shaking his hand. Ned felt a phantom of muscle memory urge his hand into a fist, as though the handshake necessitated more parts, but he stopped himself before he could do anything potentially embarrassing. “You guys really don’t have to do this. People get mugged in New York all the time.”
MJ shot him a sharp look from where she was capping his coffee with a lid. “I thought you said it was apartment stairs.”
Peter’s eyes widened almost comically. “Right. That’s where the lip came from. I also - ” He laughed awkwardly and pulled off his hood. Ned and MJ gasped at the bright purple bruising all around his eye and neck, where they could almost see individual fingerprints pressed into his pale skin. “ - Had some bad luck on the way home the other day.”
“Shit!” Ned exclaimed.
“You should see the other guy,” Peter joked, wincing when the movement dripped more blood down his chin.
“That’s so badass, dude,” Ned said admiringly before MJ glared at him. “I mean, that totally sucks. Here’s, uh, I can crack this ice pack, for the uh, bruises, and here’s some neosporin for your lip.”
“Thank you,” Peter said, holding the ice pack gingerly against his eye.
MJ slid his coffee across the counter and leaned over, looking up close at his damaged face. Mentally she added, bruised face, horrible liar, to their bulletin board. Now was as good of a time as any to test the waters, she figured. “I can’t believe your parents let you walk here alone again after that.”
Peter visibly stiffened, his knuckles going white where they clenched the ice pack to his eye. “Yeah, they weren’t too happy about it,” he said lamely.
MJ almost felt bad for prying, but she could sense deep down that she was onto something. “They must be pleased you’re spending so much time studying here, though.”
Peter swallowed, which seemed visibly painful through the bruises around his neck. “Yeah,” he said quietly. MJ was sure that she’d never seen someone look so heartbroken, and a quick exchange of looks with Ned assured her he felt the same.
“How-how much do I owe you?” Peter said after a moment of silence.
“It’s on the house,” MJ said immediately. “As long as you promise not to get mugged again anytime soon. Otherwise, I’m charging you double for the emotional stress.”
Peter cracked a smile, the first genuine one of the day, and said, “Thanks, MJ. And thank you, Ned. See you guys soon.” He set down the ice pack, grabbed the coffee, and pulled his hood back up. Already, the bruising seemed less vivid than before. MJ blinked. One moment, he was in the donut shop, and the next he was gone.
“Huh,” Ned said, staring at Peter’s vacated stool. “That was freaking weird.”
“You’re telling me,” MJ replied, pointing to her nametag. “This says Michelle. How’d he know my name is MJ?”
* * *
Despite the lack of picture, or other basic identification information, Ned and MJ’s “Peter board” grew slowly over the next few days. "Mysterious bruises, mysterious bruises that heal exponentially fast, knows MJ’s name (potentially reverse stalking us???), weird about parents, young enough to still live with parents," and even "familiar tingle" appeared on the board in conjunction with each of their discoveries. After their first real conversation, Peter said hi to both MJ and Ned now and even once helped Ned troubleshoot a bug in his code.
(“Why’s he doing complex computer science when he’s still studying for his GED?” Ned asked later.)
Now, five days after the bruises encounter, Peter walked into the donut shop with a grimace on his face as he ordered a coffee from MJ and slid into a counter stool a few feet away from Ned. He pulled out his GED textbook and flipped to one of the practice tests in the back, worrying his lip between his teeth.
“Hey, Peter,” Ned called over, seemingly oblivious to the other boy’s intense concentration. “Do you like LEGOs?”
Peter’s head jerked up so fast that MJ thought he might get whiplash. “Y-yeah,” he said, surprised. There was something oddly hopeful in his voice that made MJ’s heart ache. “Why?”
“My mom said I could pick between two big sets for my birthday, but I can’t decide,” Ned said, turning his laptop to face Peter. “So do you think - Millennium Falcon or Death Star?”
“Don’t you already have the Death Star?” Peter said automatically, then flushed when both of them shot him stunned looks. “I mean, that’s the one, like, every Star Wars fan has, right?”
Ned frowned. “I think I used to have it, because I remember building it - ” Here MJ saw Peter’s eyes widen, saw him catch his breath “ - but I can’t remember what happened to it. I think I broke it, or left it at a friend’s house.”
Peter mustered a thin smile, but both of them could tell that for some reason, that hadn’t been the answer he was hoping for. “In that case, you should get the Death Star. I helped a friend build it once, and it was really cool.”
Ned nodded to himself, seeming satisfied with his response. “Yeah. I’ll get the Death Star. Thanks, man.”
Peter smiled again, but there was nothing behind it. “Anytime.”
“Are you nervous?” MJ asked.
His head shot up again. He had this deer-in-the-headlights look nearly every time they spoke to him that MJ found both concerning and adorable. “I mean for the test,” MJ clarified, gesturing to the open practice worksheet.
“Oh,” Peter said, looking embarrassed. “Yeah, I’m taking it in a few days. I’m trying to get all my testing done now so I can apply to start college in the spring semester.”
“All by yourself?” MJ asked, impressed. He didn’t seem to take it that way, though, because he bit his lip and looked down sadly at the workbook. “Yeah, all by myself,” he muttered.
Suddenly, an alarm blared through the donut shop, and the mechanized voice of the New York City supervillain alert announced, “Take cover in the nearest shelter. There is an ongoing threat to your safety. Take cover.”
Outside, people began screaming and rushing for the nearest doors. A flood of people started fighting to enter the donut shop.
“Shit!” Ned gasped.
“Come on,” MJ said, no-nonsense. She grabbed Ned and Peter’s arms and pulled them out of their seats. “Let’s go to the employees-only area. We can open the entrance to the downstairs storage room and get people down there.”
Peter shook his head, pulling out of her grip. “Get to safety,” he said firmly. He grabbed his bag and started heading for the door. Within moments, he disappeared in the flow of people coming from the other direction.
“Peter!” Ned yelled uselessly. He was already gone.
“What the hell was that?” MJ asked, fumbling to turn on the TV in the corner of the shop. “Ned, can you get people downstairs? I want to check what’s going on.”
The TV blared to life, and the flood of shouting and crying people quieted for a moment to see what was happening outside. A shaky aerial video of a large silver robot stalking through Times Square appeared on screen.
“It appears to be moving towards the former Avengers Tower,” the reporter announced over the video. “If you’re in its path, take immediate shelter - oh look! Spider-Man is here! He appears to be attacking the robot with his webs…”
Ned reappeared by MJ’s side. “The downstairs is open. We should get down there before there’s no more room,” he said.
“Hold on,” MJ murmured, eyes fixed on the red and blue blur swinging around the robot. Her heart hammered in her chest even though they weren’t in any immediate danger. “Oh no! Spidey has taken a hit…” The reporter said in the background.
“We gotta go,” Ned said urgently. MJ let him tug her in the direction of the downstairs store room, reluctantly tearing her eyes away from Spider-Man’s collapsed form on screen. Why did she suddenly have such a gut reaction to the local superhero’s safety? And where the hell was Peter Parker?
* * *
Despite his sudden disappearance the day before, Peter was back in the donut shop halfway through MJ’s shift the next day. There was a distinct lack of customers due to the robot scare, so Ned and MJ were huddled over his computer discussing Peter Parker when the boy himself walked in.
“Hey,” he said, scratching the back of his neck in an embarrassed way. He was wearing his hoodie again, and moved stiffly towards them. “I think I left my - uh, textbook here yesterday.”
MJ glared at him, and he seemed to shrink beneath her gaze. “No shit.” She pulled the fat textbook from under the counter and slammed it down in front of him. “What the hell were you thinking, Parker?”
Ned looked at her, surprised. Peter looked a little shocked too. “I’m sorry,” he offered lamely, seemingly unsure of what he was even apologizing for.
“You can’t just run away into danger,” MJ chastised him. “You didn’t even know what was going on! You could’ve gotten seriously hurt.” Even as she spoke, she wondered to herself, why the hell do I care? Why can’t I stop talking? Why am I so worried?
Peter seemed to be thinking the same thing - and there again were those puppy-dog eyes, so full of hope and near tears. “You’re right,” he said, looking at MJ intensely. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to help.”
Ned looked between them awkwardly, tapping his fingers against the counter. “Yeah, Peter. You missed the most epic game of Go Fish known to man.”
Peter laughed and sat down next to Ned, the closest he’d been to either of them since he first walked into the shop a month ago. “You’re probably lucky I wasn’t there, then. I’m a god at Go Fish.”
“You want a coffee, Peter?” MJ asked.
“Oh, no. I don’t like coffee,” he responded automatically. They both stared at him, and he flushed. “No, wait. I’ll have a small black coffee.”
“Ohhh-kay Parker,” MJ said slowly. “One glazed chocolate donut, coming right up.”
“That’s my favorite,” he said, surprised.
“I know,” she smirked. Except she didn’t, actually - the information had risen to her lips, unbidden, like a secret she was only just remembering. Now Peter had that intense, hopeful look on his face again, and she forced herself to look away before it could break her heart anymore.
“Peter,” she heard Ned say as she grabbed a donut from the case behind her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” the other boy said, sounding confused.
“There’s, uh,” Ned cleared his throat awkwardly, concern in his voice. “There’s a lot of blood on your shirt I think.”
MJ whipped around. Sure enough, a dark red stain spread around the side of Peter’s blue hoodie, half-hidden by its overly large folds. Peter looked down at himself as if surprised to see the blood there too. “I spilled gatorade on myself earlier,” he offered weakly.
“The stain is growing,” MJ said flatly. “Take your shirt off. What the hell happened?”
“N-no, I’m fine, seriously guys,” Peter laughed nervously, backing away from the stool where he’d just been sitting. “I just got hit with some flying debris from the robot yesterday - it was barely a scratch. I must’ve just ripped the scab.”
The two best friends stared at him disbelievingly. “How’d you get from Queens to Midtown that fast?” MJ demanded.
“When all public transportation is shut down during supervillain alarms,” Ned added helpfully.
Peter paled, his mouth opening and closing uncertainly as he tried to think of an excuse.
“Let us help you, Peter,” MJ pleaded.
He shook his head, eyes panicked and wild. “I gotta go,” he said, grabbing his bag and textbook and almost running out of the shop. The way he favored his right side was even more obvious now that they were watching him leave.
“Oh my God, MJ,” Ned said, his eyes wide. “What if he’s being like, abused or something? That would explain the weirdness about his parents, and his terrible excuses for injuries!”
“You should follow him,” MJ said suddenly. “I’ll meet up with you right after my shift. I can’t leave now or I’ll get fired.” Ned hesitated, starting to gather up his stuff. “No! Go, right now!” She urged, and he fled the store as fast as possible.
It must’ve only been five minutes, during which MJ rang up two more customers and fussed with the countertops, before Ned rushed back into the store. “MJ!” He said breathlessly. “You have to see this!”
“Where’s Peter?” She demanded, not making any move to leave the counter.
“You have to see this,” Ned repeated, shaking his head as though he couldn’t believe his own words.
MJ scoffed, sure that her friend was being over-dramatic as usual. “Well, my shift ends in ten minutes. Can it wait until then?”
Ned looked like he wanted to say no, but her admonishing glare silenced any protest on his end. “Fine,” he said finally, but he spent the entire ten minutes bouncing his knee, glancing anxiously towards the door as if it was going to disappear and refusing to say anything about what he’d seen. MJ was ready to pin him down and shake him by the time Sally arrived to relieve her, but she settled for a light shoulder punch as they rushed to check out what he’d seen. There, in the alleyway next to the donut shop, MJ saw something glinting in the shadows by the dumpster. Ned gestured to it excitedly, his eyes huge.
The two best friends stepped closer, and as her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she saw it. There was the cover of Peter’s glossy GED textbook, hanging out of his partially-zipped backpack ten feet above their heads. Where it was stuck to the brick wall with what could only be spiderwebs.
“What. The. Fuck,” MJ said.
“I know,” Ned shouted, practically bursting with excitement. “Peter Parker is Spider-Man!”
* * *
The next few hours were spent huddled around Ned’s “Peter” bulletin board, arguing and shouting over the boy’s true identity. They rewatched the reporter footage of yesterday’s Spider-Man vs. Evil Robot battle a hundred times – “There, look!” Ned pointed out. “Spider-Man gets hit with a laser in the same place Peter was bleeding today!” – and scoured hours of Spider-Man compilations on YouTube.
“Unless Spider-Man kidnapped Peter, or they’re just working together,” MJ offered another theory.
Ned gave her a look. “The evidence strongly points to no.”
“How could Spider-Man be a kid our age?!” MJ shouted in frustration. “It doesn’t make any sense. It still doesn’t explain how Peter Parker literally does not exist, anywhere.”
“Maybe he wiped the files so no one could track down his secret identity,” Ned said, wiggling his fingers at her.
“Still,” she said again. “No family, no friends, no address? How could he do this all…alone?”
Ned thought about that for a moment. He remembered encountering Spider-Man a few times - on their decathlon trip to DC, at their school homecoming dance, even working comms for him a few times. Still, the face behind the mask was frustratingly blank. How did he and Spider-Man even meet in the first place? How could he have worked so closely with Spider-Man and never even known his identity? And if Peter Parker really was Spider-Man, and they’d worked together before, why was he only just now appearing to Ned and MJ at the coffee shop?
“Something’s missing,” he said out loud. “We’ve both worked with Spider-Man. We were literally at the Statue of Liberty during his fight with the multi-dimensional supervillains. So why didn’t we know who he was before?”
MJ nodded, thinking it over for herself. Peter being Spider-Man fit perfectly in her mind, as though the information was just falling into a place it should’ve already occupied. “Maybe he erased his identity, but not just from the Internet,” she said.
Ned’s eyes widened. “You mean, like from our minds?” He gasped reverently. “Do spiders have mind-erasing powers?”
MJ almost didn’t believe it herself - but wouldn’t that explain Parker’s odd obsession with them? Those missing gaps in her memory, that aching feeling in her chest whenever she saw him? “There’s only one way to find out,” she said grimly. “We’re going to track him down and figure out the truth. Once and for all.”
* * *
It turns out, they did not have to track Peter very far. Two days later, during MJ’s next shift at the donut shop, he shuffled in and avoided eye contact as he ordered another small black coffee from Sally at the cash register. If he’d been watching them, he might’ve noticed Ned’s jaw on the floor before MJ lightly smacked him back into discretion.
Instead, he took his normal seat secluded in an alcove and pulled out the very textbook that had given away his identity, now spiderweb-free. Peter pointedly buried his face in the book and began scratching furiously at practice problems, avoiding looking at anyone else in the store.
“Hey, Sally,” MJ offered quietly. “I’ve got it from here. You can get lunch five minutes early.”
Her coworker smiled gratefully at her and disappeared behind the employees-only door, leaving just Ned, Peter, and MJ alone in the shop. MJ finished pouring Peter’s coffee and called, “Hey, Parker.”
His head whipped up, eyes so wide and surprised that she almost laughed. “Your coffee,” she elaborated, gesturing to the cup.
“O-oh, right,” he said, flushing bright red. “Of course.” He walked over to the counter and reached for the coffee, only for MJ to slide it out of his hand.
“What?” He just stared at her dumbfounded, like a kicked puppy. She almost felt bad for a moment.
“Who are you, Peter Parker?” She asked, and he looked like he was about to cry.
“Yeah,” Ned chimed in from his seat at the end of the counter. “Are you Spider-Man?”
“W-what?” Peter cried out, at the same time MJ said, “Are you fucking kidding me, Ned?”
“I’m not Spider-Man,” Peter blurted out as fast as he could.
“Bullshit,” Ned called over. “We saw your webbed backpack on the wall.”
Peter’s face was bright red. “S-someone grabbed it from me and ran. He must’ve stopped them, because he gave it back to me later.”
MJ paused, her heart nearly stopping when she realized they hadn’t even considered that possibility and they may have just accused a poor stranger of being Spider-Man. By the look on Ned’s face, he had just come to the same conclusion.
Peter continued to bluster, unaware of their silent conversation. “I mean, me, Spider-Man?” He let out a nervous laugh. “I’ve never even been in a fight before!”
MJ decided that if they were going to commit, they might as well go all the way. “Prove it, then,” she demanded. “If you’re not Spider-Man, then show us what’s inside your backpack.”
“My backpack?” Peter looked like he wanted to die.
She smirked, knowing she’d caught him. “Let’s see it.”
The bell on the door jingled, saving Peter from responding as three men entered the donut shop, muttering amongst themselves. “We’re not done here,” MJ whispered urgently before she stepped in front of the cash register to greet the newcomers.
Peter turned to look at Ned to see his reaction, but the other boy was fixated on the man lingering behind his two companions. His eyes were wide with horror. “He’s - he’s got a gun,” he whispered, but not quietly enough.
The man’s head snapped up, and he looked directly at Ned and Peter. “Shit,” he swore. He whipped the gun out from his waistband and pointed it at MJ. “Everybody, get the fuck down!”
Peter raised his hands and shoved Ned when he didn’t immediately do the same. The man with the gun turned to MJ, who was shaking behind the cash register. “Now sweetheart, you’re going to put all of that money in my briefcase here. I don’t want to miss a single penny.” He smiled at her, showing his teeth.
“You two, stay down,” one of the others barked at Peter and Ned. “If you cooperate, no one has to get hurt.”
MJ bit her lip to keep from crying as she pulled bills out of the register and placed them into the man’s briefcase. If any god is listening, she begged the universe, please let us be right. Let Peter Parker be Spider-Man. She spared a glance over at where the two boys were huddled on the ground and almost did a double-take when she saw Peter staring intensely at her.
Drop something, he mouthed. Now.
MJ’s hands were shaking so badly that she almost didn’t have to pretend to let three rolls of quarters crash onto the floor. As the man with the gun cursed, she bent down as fast as she could to pick them up -
Peter moved faster than could’ve been humanly possible, but in one swift movement he was off the floor, kicking the gun out of the man’s hand and simultaneously elbowing him in the face. The man swore again, clutching his bloody nose, and Peter took him out with another clean blow to the head and groin for good measure.
Another one of the goons grabbed him by the neck from behind, but Peter headbutted him so hard that he dropped like a stone. The other one fell to the ground with a swift blow to the shins and a kick in the side, and then Peter was leaning over the counter, his worried eyes finding MJ huddled on the floor.
“Thank God,” he breathed out, “You’re okay - ”
The gunshot was the loudest thing she’d ever heard. Peter’s face froze in surprise, his mouth still forming the rest of his sentence, before he staggered backwards and another shot rang out.
“Peter!” She heard Ned scream.
Suddenly there they were:
Memories flooded her mind, filling in gaps, settling into places that she hadn’t even known were missing until he was there again, and suddenly she couldn’t imagine them without him. Peter at the lunch table in Midtown. Peter taking her hand in Europe. Peter in the Spider-Man suit, torn and bloody, gripping her as hard as he could. Peter saying, “I’ll find you,” as light dawned on the Statue of Liberty.
“Peter Parker,” she whispered to herself. “Oh my fucking God.”
In the next moment, the gun was on the ground again, and the thug who’d staggered upright was back on the floor. But MJ was already on her feet, leaping over the counter at the same time Ned scrambled forward to catch Peter.
Who was falling.
Red blossomed from his side and arm where the bullets had hit him. MJ’s eyes filled with tears, and she sobbed, “I remember. I remember. Peter, you can’t die now. Please don’t leave me again.”
He looked at her, his eyes half-lidded as he smiled. “You…remember me? For real?”
“I do too,” Ned added as she nodded. “Don’t you ever do that to us again.”
“S-stay awake, Peter,” MJ said as she pressed on his side, holding back vomit as warm blood flowed through her fingers. “Help is coming. Just stay awake.”
“I’d do anything for you,” he murmured sleepily. His head lolled, and his eyes fluttered shut.
Red and blue lights flashed outside the donut shop. “Help us!” MJ screamed. “He needs an ambulance!”
Her hands were still red when they carried him out on a stretcher. They were still red when Ned gathered Peter’s backpack and ordered a police car to follow the ambulance to the hospital. They were red until a nurse guided her to a sink and massaged the blood out with warm water, held her hair away from her face as she vomited. “Peter’s going to be okay,” the nurse said reassuringly. “Thanks to you, MJ.”
Ned and MJ sat for hours in the waiting room, at some points spending minutes on end in silence, at others discussing their memories of Peter Parker.
“God, he was my best friend,” Ned said mournfully, tears filling his eyes again. “How could I just forget him? And after May died? He was - he was alone on Christmas.”
Just the thought of it made MJ want to throw up again. “Can we talk about this later, Ned?” She said quietly. “Please.”
They waited in silence some more. And waited.
Finally, a nurse came out, tapping at her clipboard. “Family of Peter Parker?” She called out.
Ned and MJ shot to their feet and ran over to her. “We’re here,” MJ said breathlessly.
The nurse looked skeptical. “You’re his family?”
“We’re all he has left,” Ned said.
She seemed to accept this. “Peter’s in stable condition, and he’s awake. Luckily the bullets missed anything major. He’s asking for Ned and MJ. If that’s you, he’s in room 215. Please try not to agitate him or move him in any way - his stitches are fresh, and we don’t want him losing any more blood.”
“Right,” MJ nodded, and then they were off before she could say any more. Room 215 was only a few doors down, and they burst in as fast as they could.
“Peter!” Ned said, rushing over to the bed. “Are you okay? How are you feeling? Howcouldyounottelluswhoyouwereagain?”
“I’m okay,” Peter answered, failing to hide a grimace. “What’s a few bullet holes? I’ve had worse.”
“If you weren’t bedridden, I would slap you right now,” MJ said, running her fingers through his sweaty curls. “How could you lie to us? For months?”
Peter looked down, his cheeks flushing in shame. “I-I thought you were better off without me. I mean, you got into MIT! You were happy. Everywhere I go, I just - hurt people,” he finished lamely.
“Shut up, Parker!” Both Ned and MJ shouted.
“You can’t honestly think we were better off without you,” Ned said. “You’re our best friend!”
“I told you I loved you,” MJ said, quieter.
“I love you, too,” Peter said, looking anguished. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. It’s been so hard this past month, not saying anything. I’m so sorry.”
“Hey, we figured it out, though,” Ned laughed. “You are Spider-Man!”
Peter smiled, embarrassed. “I guess I was a little sloppy, huh.”
“A little?!” Ned exclaimed. “I love the new suit though, man. So classic.”
“Speaking of Spider-Man,” Peter said awkwardly. MJ furrowed her eyebrows, already knowing she wasn’t going to like what he was about to say. “No one else really remembers Peter Parker, including insurance companies and the US government, so I have to get out of this hospital before they ask for my information.”
“You’re going to rip your stitches!” MJ admonished.
“All I need to do is sneak out the window,” Peter argued. “I’ll be careful! Just - you guys get my stuff, and I’ll meet you outside. We can go to my apartment.”
“You have your own apartment?” Ned marveled. “Wow, so cool!”
“Ned, can you grab his stuff?” MJ asked. “I’ll meet you outside in one sec.”
Their best friend nodded, realizing what she meant, and quickly left to track down another nurse. MJ turned to Peter, who stared up at her with those big brown eyes.
“I still wore the necklace,” she said.
“I know.”
“Even though I didn’t know what it meant, or who gave it to me.”
His eyes were bright with tears. “I know.”
“Don’t you ever do that to me again, Peter Parker,” she threatened, wiping away a furious tear from her cheek. “No matter how long it takes me to find out who you are, I always will. Every damn time.”
“I love you,” he said, cupping her cheek in his hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it before. All this time, that’s what I’ve regretted the most.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Parker,” she said, kissing him as long as she could, tasting the saltiness of their tears in her mouth. He held on even when she started to pull away, reveling in their touch again. “Now let’s break you out of this hospital.”