Outnumbered

Tony offers to let Peter stay home from school the next morning, but Peter decides to go because it’s the last day. After the final bell, he finds MJ waiting at his locker. She’s in her jean jacket despite the heat, arms crossed over her chest. There’s sunlight coming from the doors down the hallway, illuminating the natural highlights in her hair. Peter wants to smile at how pretty she is, marvel at how looking at her has been causing some kind of weird but contented flutter in his chest for the last week or so, but his head is throbbing to the point where he’s a bit nauseous. He hates to think that he might have to cancel their hangout, that he has to decide in the next few minutes if he can tough it out or not.

Maybe he can hide it.

“Took you long enough,” she jokes, moving out of the way so that he can get to his lock, but when Peter doesn’t laugh back, she frowns. “Hey, everything okay?” She’s trying to catch his eyes, but he avoids hers on purpose as he begins to empty the few items left in his locker.

“I-I might just head home. It’s like a million degrees in here and my blood sugar’s been yo-yo-ing on repeat. I’m cranky and I don’t want to make you miserable. I’m not really much fun when it’s like this.” He feels terrible, canceling on her like this. He knows he should’ve texted her earlier in the day, given her a heads up, but he was hoping it’d magically improve, that his levels would stabilize like they usually do. They’re supposed to have a horror movie marathon at MJ’s to celebrate the start of summer, and he wants to go, has been looking forward to this since they made plans on Monday, but he can’t get his brain to figure out a way to make this any better than it already is.

“You’re self-deprecating right now and I won’t accept it. I don’t mind if you’re cranky. We can go to your house instead of mine if you’d like. Or we can reschedule. Up to you. Are you high or low?”

Peter grabs his last book and places it in his backpack. “I’ve been high all afternoon and it’s given me a headache from Hell.” He goes to double-back on saying he’s high, but MJ doesn’t seem phased by his terminology; sometimes he forgets that he doesn’t have to explain himself with her.

“High and starving?” she asks. “Or high and nauseous?”

Peter laughs softly, because this is something even Tony hasn’t picked up on, and it’s nice that someone is reading his mind. “High, starving, and nauseous. It’s the worst combination.”

She leans in closer to him and lowers her voice. “I thought maybe you had a shitty day. You seemed pretty wiped out in math and science. Not that we were doing much. You just seemed…quieter than usual. Figured you weren’t feeling great.”

He presses his head against the cool metal of his locker and closes his eyes. “Correction: Shitty night. It was like a rollercoaster that I couldn’t get off, which led to a shitty day. I didn’t want to stay home because then Tony wouldn’t have let me hang out, but now I feel even worse because it’s so hot in this building.”

MJ pulls a water bottle out of her backpack and hands it over. It’s plastic, unopened. She despises plastic water bottles, but they were giving them out for free during lunch today, so she’d grabbed one because of the heat.

“Thanks.” Peter takes a long sip out of desperation, knows he should’ve been guzzling water all day with how thirsty he’s been. He imagines his blood as a sugary sludge, slowly moving through his body.

His watch vibrates with a Dexcom alert mid-sip, which is startling and has him choking on the water.

“I hate this so much,” he complains when he’s done coughing. MJ holds the water bottle while he gives himself his fourth correction on his pump today. “I just want to go home and take a nap.”

“I won’t be mad if you do that, you know. You can cancel on me, Peter. I understand.”

And he wants to, he really wants to, because MJ 100% gets it and he’s feeling so cruddy, but his brain is telling him to push through it, even though he’ll definitely pay for it later.

He doesn’t want to go home because he doesn’t want to deal with Tony, would rather feel like this while hanging out with MJ than have Tony waking him repeatedly mid-nap to prick his fingers. He loves Tony and everything that he’s done to help and support him, but he needs a break. Room to breathe and figure this out on his own for a little bit. His watch says that he’s 263 with a slightly down arrow. High, but not as high as he woke up this morning. The water and insulin seem to be working, thankfully.

If he gets to MJ’s before Tony realizes he’s not on his way home, he might be able to make this work.

“You’re on the Lower East Side, right?” he asks, slamming his locker shut.

“East Village.”

“Close enough.”

MJ hands the water bottle back to Peter. “So…yes to my place?”

“Yeah,” he says with a happy sigh. “I’m feeling a little bit better.”

“You’re sure?” she asks, eyeing him.

“I’m sure.” He puts the water bottle in a side sleeve, slides his backpack on, and slips his hands into his pockets.

“You can nap if you want,” MJ offers. “When we get to my place, I mean. Or on the train ride. I won’t take it personally.”

“Are you telling me I look like shit?” he jokes.

“In the nicest way possible, yes,” she admits.

“Ouch,” he says playfully, putting a hand to his chest. “I appreciate the offer, though,” he says, laughing.

They head for the exit, Peter noticing that MJ doesn’t remove her jean jacket until they’re taking the steps down to the subway. He catches a glimpse of her Omnipod on her left arm as she shoves it into her backpack. He finds himself wanting to ask her why she hides it sometimes, but he doesn’t want to change the vibe, not when the alternative is going home.

“If you’re feeling better later, we can grab a slice in NoLIta. I know a place,” she says, swiping her MetroCard.

Peter chuckles and swipes on the turnstile next to her. “That’s such a New York thing to say.”

She smiles and licks her lips. “Which part?”

“NoLIta.” North of Little Italy.

The walk together toward the subway platform.

“Serious question,” she asks as they wait for the train. “Yea or nay to pineapples on pizza.”

“I mean, if you like it, why not? Yea, I guess? But only if that’s what you prefer? It’s not hurting anyone else…unless it’s like, the whole pie and you’re sharing…and yeah, I’m going way too deeply into this…”

“Perfect. We can still be friends, then. You had me for a second, there.”

“So, then you’re a pineapple pizza person?”

“Oh, no. No way. I just wanted to see your response. Are you?”

“Also not a pineapple pizza person,” he says, laughing. “Now I have a serious question.”

“Go for it.”

Peter grins. “Have you figured out the perfect way to bolus for pizza?”

She bursts out laughing, dimples appearing as she smiles wide. “Fuck no.”

X

MJ lets Peter rest his head on her shoulder the entire subway ride to her apartment. He likes that she offered, didn’t want to seem awkward or rude for imagining it. It’s not until she’s whispering his name, got a hand on his knee, that he realizes how deeply he must’ve been sleeping on the short ride. He hopes he wasn’t snoring; he tends to do that when he’s sleep deprived. They make it up and off of the train just before the doors close.

“This way,” she directs when they’re street level and Peter veers off in the wrong direction.

His watch vibrates with a high alert just as they’re walking into her building. He’s 227. A text from Tony appears on his watch a moment later. You’ve been high for a few hours, kiddo. You okay? You on your way home?

I’m okay. Coming down. At MJ’s. Might have dinner here, he texts on his phone.

“Still high?” she asks, but it doesn’t feel intrusive like Tony’s text.

He pulls his pump out to give another correction bolus of insulin. “Yup.”

“Still thirsty?” She unlocks the door and lets Peter in.

“So thirsty.”

She fills two glasses of ice water in the kitchen and gives a quick tour of her apartment. When they get to her room, she lets her backpack fall to the ground and offers Peter a seat at her desk. He gladly takes it.

His watch vibrates again.

“I hate when Dexcom is slow to catch up,” MJ comments, brushing her hair behind her ears.

“I know, right? I have a love/hate relationship with Dex. Like, I need it for my pump, and so that Tony and May have my numbers, but sometimes, it’s more anxiety than it’s worth.” Peter had briefly explained his home situation during their last hangout. He’d left out the Spiderman detail on purpose, had focused solely on how his guardian, Aunt May, had married Happy Hogan, Tony Stark’s director of security. He lied and said that that was how he got his internship at Stark Industries freshman year, explained that Tony and May were doing this weird kind of co-parenting thing that he didn’t want to get into, so he was living with the Starks to help out with Tony and Pepper’s five-year-old daughter, Morgan. MJ hadn’t asked too many questions, which Peter had been thankful for.

“You ever take a Dex or pump break?” she asks, curious. “Like, just doing fingersticks and injections for a few days?”

“Does my first week after diagnosis count?” he jokes, taking a sip of the water.

MJ laughs and shakes her head, but it’s not in jest. “No.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Tony and May probably wouldn’t let me have a break. They’re pretty involved with everything. To them, the tech makes it easier. Safer,” he says before taking another sip. “Like, I still…I still need Tony to help me with site changes. And lows. And May’s a nurse, so she sort of understands, but, it’s not the same as like…getting it, you know?” He blushes, instantly regretting that he’s admitted these things.

MJ’s belly down on her bed now, chin propped atop her folded hands. “I didn’t start doing my Omnipod changes completely by myself until last year. Back when we could afford it, I wore the older Dexcom G5. It hurt a lot more than the G6. My mom tried one once to see how bad it was and after that, my parents started to do my pod and Dex changes while I was sleeping. If I had to change one of them during the day, I would throw a fit. It was…it was a big issue for a while. I’m glad I got past that. It was absolute misery.”

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better about this, MJ.”

Her face changes, almost as if she’s taken offense to what he’s said. “I’m telling you this because it’s the truth. Why would I lie to you?”

He feels like an ass, bites his lip. “Sorry. I’m just kind of used to people…downplaying things that I know aren’t normal to make me feel like all of this is okay even though it’s not. Like I forgot to connect my pump after my shower last night and that’s why I was all over the place. I was expecting Tony to be pissed, but he shrugged it off, told me it happens all the time which is a complete lie and…I don’t know, I guess I don’t really trust that people are telling me the truth anymore. It’s like…like…”

“Like they’re trying to help but sometimes they make it a thousand times worse?”

“Oh my god, yes!” He puts the glass down on her desk. “Like with Tony…you know he got hurt in that battle with Thanos and all, so he gets some of what it’s been like because of his arm, but as much as our experiences overlap, there’s so much that doesn’t. And May can be so…clinical about everything. Tony micromanages carb counts and the algorithm on my pump, whereas May focuses on the bigger picture, like my A1C and my Dexcom data. Pepper, Tony’s wife, tries, and so does Happy, May’s new husband, but now they’re super gentle with me when they weren’t before and it’s weird. And Ned, he’s my best friend, was there for me when my Uncle Ben died in 8th grade, but sometimes I think he’s scared of me? Like I’m an emergency waiting to happen and I can tell every time we hang out. It’s been…exhausting. Like, this disease is a pain in the ass, but then so is everyone else because they’re trying so hard. Most days, it’s like the only person that doesn’t see me any differently is Morgan, and she’s only five.”

“And me.”

He chuckles. “You barely knew me before I showed up at group, MJ.”

“You seriously think you weren’t on my radar for the last three years? That’s hilarious, Parker. You’re smarter than that.”

He blushes, feels that familiar flutter in his chest. “So, you lied when you said you were just observant and not obsessed with me?” he asks, curious.

“Oh, at decathlon practice? That was just me being awkward. As per usual.” She snorts.

Peter laughs, looks over at this girl that he’s falling so freaking hard for. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

She holds up her arm to show her Omnipod.

“You thought I wouldn’t hang out with you because your pancreas sucks? For real?” he asks, confused.

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Middle school was…traumatic.” She gives him a sad grin.

“I think it is for everyone, but I can understand how all of this would make it that much worse. Were there catty and judgmental girls that gave you a hard time?”

“More like catty and judgmental everyone.”

“Is that why you don’t really hang out with people?” It sounds better than is that why you don’t have friends?

She sighs, which puffs up the stray hairs around her face. “I mean, it’s part of it, but I’ve always been kind of introverted. It doesn’t really bother me. But yeah, having friends kind of fell to the wayside when I got to Midtown, I guess.”

“I’d never ditch you because you have a cranky pancreas,” he says with a small laugh.

“Same,” she says, laughing back.

“What did Jacob from group call this?” Peter asks, thinking back. “Diabetes buddies?”

“Diabuddies.”

“It’s pretty punny.”

She laughs again. “See, this is why I like you, Parker.”

He blushes again, takes another sip of water from the glass to keep himself from grinning like an overeager idiot. He likes that she calls him Parker when she’s being funny and Peter when she’s being serious. It’s different. Adorable.

His watch vibrates again with yet another Dexcom alarm.

“I’m about ready to rip this damn thing out of my arm!”

“You can increase the time between repeat alarms,” she explains, putting her hand out for his phone. “It won’t affect Tony or May’s follow settings.”

“Wait, really?”

He hands his phone over and lets her adjust the settings. “How long between alarms do you want repeat alerts? It says 25 minutes in your settings. You trying to torture yourself?”

“Tony set it up. I didn’t even realize I could change it. Um, an hour?” he asks.

“Done.” She gives his phone back.

“T-thanks.”

“I have an idea,” MJ says, pulling out her own phone. She scrolls and picks a song before placing her phone on her desk. “I do this when my blood sugar is being stubborn and I want to come down.”

Peter makes a face as he recognizes “Catch My Breath” and asks, “You listen to Kelly Clarkson?” He holds back a laugh.

“Notice how you said that before she started singing,” MJ says, eyebrows lifting. “You know this song.” The smile on her face says she’s loving that she’s got something on him.

Peter blushes. “May used to be obsessed. She plays the same songs on repeat for hours!”

MJ sticks her tongue out in disgust. “Ew, that’s a thing?”

“Right?! I can’t stand it! Like, at least make a playlist or play a full album, start to finish. Shuffle’s fine, except for Hamilton. Ham on shuffle is a travesty!”

“Agreed,” she says, finding a place in the middle of the room and bouncing to the music as the tempo picks up. She’s moving her arms and hips in the corniest way possible. She does the Carlton dance from Fresh Prince and then the sprinkler. She’s being dorky on purpose, not even caring that Peter can see her.

That familiar flutter fills his chest.

At the first “catching my breath, letting it go,” she shimmies her shoulders and bobs her head as she exaggerates her singing. She glares at him as if she’s saying, “Come on!”

Peter shakes his head and laughs, backing away as he says, “MJ, no! I’ll look like a loser!”

“You’re already a loser!”

Peter scrunches his face, but he still can’t seem to get his happy grin to fall. He knows it’s because he’s with MJ, because she’s trying to cheer him up.

When it goes into the next verse, she slows down a bit, throwing her hands up one at a time. He feels silly standing there, so he does an awkward side-step to join. He feels like he’s at a school dance, trying to impress the girl he likes but failing miserably. This is about the time he’d go and get punch to avoid embarrassing himself.

“You’re not even trying!” she says, going into another bout of giggles. She grabs his hands in hers, jumps up and down as she sways her head, hair flying everywhere, and sings, “Catch my breath! No one can hold me back, I ain’t got time for that! Catch my breath! Won’t let ‘em get me down! It’s all so simple now!”

She stops, gets low, rising as she sings, “You helped me see the beauty in everything,” hitting the high note with her eyes closed, Peter’s eyes going wide, impressed. He smiles, starts jumping with her as the music builds again, letting his arms flail in time with the music. He finds himself remembering the lyrics, laughing at how good it feels to sing each line louder than the last. It doesn’t feel silly anymore, not even close.

It just feels good.

“Now that you know, this is my life!” he yells, laughing so hard his belly hurts. “I won’t be told what’s supposed to be right!”

Their erratic jumping is making everything on her bookshelves shake, feet pounding each time they hit the floor. He imagines the song blaring through her apartment, other tenants able to hear it floors up, but he doesn’t even care. It only makes him laugh harder. He pumps his arms, lets his whole body go. MJ pretends to sing into a microphone, bobbing her head like a turtle.

When the song ends, they both lean forward with their hands on their knees, grinning and panting.

“Still tired?” she asks, clearly out of breath, Peter unable to speak as his heart pounds in his chest. He shakes his head and laughs, runs his fingers through his hair.

When he can breathe somewhat normally, he stands up with his hands on his hips. “That felt…great.”

And somehow, MJ’s responding smile has convinced him that perhaps, if only for now, this temporary feeling of greatness is enough.