Outnumbered

“Sorry it’s so late,” Peter says when MJ picks up the phone. It’s nearly one in the morning New York time, but she made him promise to call him when he got home from JPL.

“It’s okay,” she says, yawning. “I mean, my boyfriend works at NASA now, so…”

“Boyfriend, huh?” Peter asks, laughing softly.

“Is that okay?”

“Uh, more than okay,” Peter assures her. It comes out shaky, his heart suddenly racing. “A-as long as you’re okay with it.”

“Of course it is, Loser,” she jokes. “I’m the one who said it first.”

He thinks he hears another yawn, but isn’t sure. “Did I wake you?” She doesn’t answer right away, which makes him feel a sudden pang of guilt. “I woke you up when I called, didn’t I?”

She gives an audible yawn this time. “Maybe?”

He sighs, embarrassed. “I should let you sleep, MJ. Shouldn’t have called so late.”

“I asked you to call,” she says, voice much more awake and direct. “Because I want to hear all about NASA. All of the unclassified stuff, anyway.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start.” He puts his phone on speaker and runs his hands through his hair as he leans back against the pillows on his guest bed. “It was…”

“Exhilarating?”

“More like…overwhelming,” Peter jokes. “Tony introduced us and the framework of the design, but then he kind of pulled back and had me detail everything for the team. Speaking to a room of engineers is not easy. I’m not even sure they could understand a word I was saying. My mouth got so dry that my tongue was, like, sticking to the roof of my mouth, and I had to keep drinking those little glasses of water they put out on the table. By the end, the table was filled. And I was sweating through my dress shirt, so I couldn’t even take my suit jacket off until we got back into the car. I guess I don’t do that well under pressure.”

“Hey, you’re charismatic and genuine, which is important. No one likes to feel like they’re sitting through a sales pitch. I’m sure they were just as nervous as you were.”

He shrugs. “I mean, they were impressed, and we finalized the contracts, so I guess that’s good news.”

“So then, it was good? Overall?”

“Honestly? It was like…a dream. A good dream.”

“Plan B,” MJ adds.

Peter gives a small laugh. “Yeah. I guess Plan B isn’t sucking so much after all, though I still feel like this could’ve been part of Plan A, you know?”

“Doesn’t make what you did today any less important or meaningful.”

“True,” he echoes, sighing. “I guess I just had a weird morning, and I was kind of terrified it was a bad omen or something.”

“Weird morning?”

“I…I dropped a vial of insulin on the floor before breakfast.”

“Oof.”

Peter sighs, rubbing his face. “Yeah.”

“Does Tony know?”

“Yeah, and he wasn’t even mad, which I guess I expected because money isn’t an issue for him. But all I could think about was how May wouldn’t be able to afford all of this. I wouldn’t have a pump or Dexcom. I’d be doing finger pricks and shots. Which…sometimes I wish I could ditch the technology and just do that, but…I don’t know. Sometimes I get really scared, even with the tech. It’s kind of saved me a few times. I hate that it has, but I’m also really thankful. It’s hard to explain. I’m…I’m not making any sense…”

“It makes a lot of sense, Peter. It’s just not something other people really have to think about is all.”

“No, it’s not. But I’m glad I got that out, because it’s been chewing me up all day. I still feel really awful about it.” His pump flashes a reminder that the battery is dying, which prompts him to grab a charger from his backpack. He rolls onto his side to plug the pump into an outlet on the nightstand. “Enough about me. What’d you do today?”

“Cleaned out my closet. Mom’s on a cleaning kick lately. Found a pair of rollerblades I forgot I have. When you get home, we should take on the city. Maybe we could take Morgan out for the day.”

Peter smiles. “Sounds good.”

“Oh, and I found a really great art exhibit that I think you’d like. It’s near Chelsea Market.”

“Art?” He makes a face she can’t see.

“Trust me. You’ll see what I mean when we get there.”

“Okay,” he says, laughing. “I trust you.”

“So,” she says, yawning. “What else do you have going on tonight?”

“Just…charging my pancreas.”

She gives the most MJ huff imaginable, and Peter feels that familiar flutter fill his chest. He loves everything about her, from the way she looks at the world to her one-of-a-kind reactions to the things he says. Being with MJ, even just talking with her, makes him feel like a different version of himself.

They just…fit.

He’s never really fit with anyone before, at least not with anyone except Ned.

“You crack me up, Parker,” she says, letting out a snort that has Peter cracking up.

They chat until MJ falls asleep, Peter hanging up when he, too, can’t manage to keep his eyes open any longer.

x

Peter’s waiting on the corner of the 70th street exit for the Q when he feels someone collide with him from behind. Their arms wrap around his waist, a giggle giving their identity away.

It’s MJ.

“You couldn’t handle three whole days without me?” Peter teases, turning to face her. He can’t keep from grinning like an idiot, from pulling her close and giving her a tight hug and a kiss on her cheek.

Truth be told, he’s not exactly sure how to do this. He’s never had a girlfriend before, doesn’t want to do anything that makes her feel uncomfortable.

She’s got her hair up in a neat but fluffy bun, is wearing a floral skirt and shirt that says evidence + ethics in script. Her hands move to her hips as she smirks. “You’re not gonna give me a real kiss?”

“I-I…” he stammers, MJ pulling him close again, their lips hovering inches from each other.

“This okay?” she whispers. He can hear the nerves in her voice, knows now that she’s just as excited and terrified about all of this as he is.

“MJ, this is 100% okay,” he whispers, his smile wide.

She kisses him slowly, pulls back after and laughs nervously. “I was excited to see you because I wanted to give you that. After the other night. You know, after we…decided to go out.”

Peter reaches for her hand, electricity shooting up his arm when hers connects with his, her fingers threading through his. He blushes as they start walking toward Children’s for their support group meeting. “Sorry, I’m so nervous right now. Y-you’re…amazing, MJ, and I’m just…Peter.”

MJ’s elbow brushes against his. “I make you nervous?”

“Y-yeah.”

“B-but in a good way,“ he explains.

“You make me nervous, too. Because you’re Peter. Wouldn’t want you to be anyone else.”

“Sure,” he jokes with a laugh and a roll of his eyes.

“Oh, come on,” she presses playfully. “Theres gotta be something you like about yourself.”

“Not really.”

She stops him on the sidewalk. “What’s this about? You don’t like who you are?”

He’s never been asked that before, at least not so directly.

Is he supposed to know who he is?

Does MJ know who she is?

Does she like who she is?

Dumb question, Peter, he thinks. Of course she does.

He shrugs, unsure of how to answer. He thought everyone their age thought of themselves this way.

A couple is about to pass them, so MJ pulls him gently over to the side against a building.

“Hey,” she’s saying softly, a hand on his shoulder. “You are amazing, too, Peter. The NASA stuff? You’re making history! And you’re the only person on our decathlon team who can handle physics questions. You’re really great with Morgan. She looks up to you so much. And Tony would hang the freaking moon for you if you asked him to. I haven’t met May yet, but I already know that she’s proud of you. I don’t know how anybody couldn’t be. I love that you’re ‘just Peter,’ though I’d argue the ‘just’ is unnecessary. There’s nothing boring about you.”

Peter bites his lip, looks away. He’s angry that her question has thrown him off and ruined the mood from a few minutes ago. She’s said some really sweet things about it, but it’s like they won’t stick, won’t solidify in his mind and make him feel good. Why does he keep getting like this, all moody when things are actually going well?

There’s nothing actually wrong, so why does he feel like his Spidey senses and emotions are always dialed up to 10?

“Did something happen in Cali?”

“No, Cali was perfect. Just forget it. I’m…being stupid.” He signals that they should start walking again, watches her hesitate before she follows him.

“You couldn’t be stupid if you tried, Peter.”

Except he does do stupid things. Like forget to connect his pump after a shower. And load the dishwasher when he’s promised Pepper. And drop $300 vials of insulin on tile floors in a rush. His impulsivity used to impact minor things, like forgetting to get a test signed or taking chicken out of the freezer to defrost, but now it’s diabetes stuff and the consequences are different.

One stupid move and he feels like shit for hours.

He doesn’t get to be on autopilot anymore and make mistakes. It’s exhausting.

He could bring this up in group, how he also feels like he’s not allowed to mess up even though Tony and May have been mostly supportive about his fuck ups.

Mostly being the key word.

There was the broken pump fiasco and the fight about Dexcom. And his A1C. May was hiding her concern after Peter’s last appointment, probably thought Peter couldn’t tell, but his Spidey senses react to tone and body language and he knows her too well.

It’s not helpful.

He could bring all of this up in group. Well, all of it except for the Spiderman stuff, but he won’t. He’s going to keep his mouth shut like he promised himself last meeting.

“If it’s on your mind later, you can share it with me. If you want,” MJ offers, squeezing his hand.

“Thanks,” he says, squeezing back.

X

When everyone’s put on their name tags and found their seats, Joyce puts a website link and code up on the projection screen in the conference room. “Don’t put your names. Just an answer. Be as honest or as vague as you’d like. If you want to type a litany, go for it. One word is fine, too.”

Peter pulls his phone out and puts the information into his web app. A question pops up on his screen.

What’s been on your mind?

Everything.

Everything is on Peter’s mind.

He’s sure that if FRIDAY could read his mind this past week alone, she’d have a full-length novel of just diabetes-related thoughts.

180 extra decisions a day.

Can you be grateful and angry at the same time, Peter wonders? Is that a thing? It feels like it doesn’t make sense, so he scraps it and types I feel like I’m not allowed to make mistakes anymore. It’s the truth. That, and Joyce promised they didn’t have to put their names on their submissions.

He’s half keeping his promise to keep quiet this meeting, arguing with himself that he’s not actually speaking so it’s fine.

The projection screen comes alive with anonymous responses.

“I started posting my site changes on TikTok because it makes me happy. I guess I’ve made it on peoples’ For You Page which is good because they ask questions and I can educate them. It’s more for me than anyone else. When I need a break I just delete the app for a bit. Sometimes social media gets a little overwhelming.”

“I don’t want to be here.”

“When I complain, my parents get all it could be worse and then I just feel worse. I don’t think they know how to help so they just throw be positive at me. What does that phrase even mean? Can someone tell me because I’m hella confused.”

“I’ve always believed everything happens for a reason and it’s taken me a while but I’m really thankful for the journey diabetes has put me on. I’ve learned a lot about myself. I know this really sucks sometimes, but I don’t find it that hard most days and I guess I just don’t always understand why other people are so devastated by it? It makes it really hard to be in diabetes group sometimes. I’ve found a little niche on Insta where other teens post about their diabetes. I mostly follow accounts where their perspective aligns with mine, so I’m not completely alone, but it’s still kind of lonely.”

“Missed my diahomies. It’s good to be back.”

“I keep having these moments where I realize that other people don’t inject themselves multiple times a day with something that could kill them if they take too little or too much. Most days, I just do this on autopilot, but then it just hits me that people go their entire lives not having to do any of this and it feels really unfair.”

“I turned Dexcom Share off so my parents can’t see my numbers and I feel like I can finally breathe.”

“You ever just like do your diabetes things while you’re frustrated and angry? Like you know you have to do it, so you override the emotional stuff because it has to get done? I think that’s taking a toll on me. My friends are just like take a break then, but I can’t just take a break. I laughed at one of them when they said that and then they got mad at me, which made me look angry and so now they think I’m just like angry about diabetes which I am but…it’s not that simple? That’s what makes this really hard sometimes. Having to be numb to do the things when you don’t want to do them or not getting to act angry or upset when you are. I’m scared that my friends will think I’m depressed when I’m just being honest about what this is like for me.”

“I know that people at school won’t understand if they find out and I think that’s why I’ve been keeping it to myself. I feel like two completely different people sometimes.”

“I’m in a good place right now and I don’t want to jinx it.”

“Anyone else feeling like yeetus the diabeetus lately?”

Peter covers a laugh when he reads the last one. He thinks back to the night he came home low after patrol, when Tony commented that Morgan’s berry juice had less sugar in it and Peter had responded with, “Wouldn’t want her to get diabetes.” He remembers Tony frowning, how he’d chastised Peter for going there even though Peter thought it was hilarious. It wouldn’t have been funny at all if it had come from someone who wasn’t diabetic but he likes that there’s someone else here who uses humor to laugh about this shitty disease.

“An eclectic collection of responses,” Joyce comments.

“I second the yeetus the diabeetus one,” a guy across the room says. Peter can’t make out his name tag, since there are a lot more people here this time, but he smiles anyway.

“Facts,” Marcos adds, laughing.

As people start to discuss some of the other responses, Joyce moderating, Peter finds himself wondering which one is MJs.

That, along with what happened on their way to group, is on his mind when the meeting ends. He rips his name tag off as they enter the elevator and feels relief. He likes the group, he does, but it’s still…new. Awkward. Emotionally overwhelming at times.

The way they discuss things at group is such a stark difference from the way it’s discussed at home.

“Starbucks?” MJ asks when they’re outside, even though they’re already walking toward it.

Peter nods.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Go for it.”

“Do you only go to group because I’m there?”

“I mean,” he starts, licking his lips as he tries to pull his thoughts together. “I like that you’re there, obviously, because I really like you, but I’ve also been going because sometimes it’s the only place where I feel like people get it without me having to say anything. Don’t get me wrong, Joyce is a lot to handle and I’m not a fan of some of the people there. Some of the discussions are overwhelming sometimes. But I just like…being there?”

“You don’t really say much, is all. I figured maybe you felt like I was forcing you and I didn’t want it to feel like that.”

Peter shrugs. “I don’t know, group’s a weird subject for me. I think it’s because May and Tony had that ultimatum and I’m still not completely sure how I feel about everything. I’m like a giant ball of anxiety about diabetes still and I’m slowly unraveling it as best I can.”

“I can understand that.”

“I think when I’m honest about how I feel about everything, I’m better at figuring it out,” he admits. “Even if it doesn’t make everyone else around me feel better.”

“Tony’s still giving you a hard time? I thought you guys talked after that day at the pool.”

“That’s the thing,” Peter says, sighing. “He hasn’t been angry or anything, but he can be so…over the top sometimes. Like, him and May have my Dexcom numbers 24/7, which means they can see what I see on my pump in real-time. They don’t yell when I’m high but they text me relentlessly asking me if I bolused and I just know they’re upset. I hate feeling like I’m failing when I’m doing the best I can. And I know it’s because they’re worried, but it doesn’t matter. Sometimes the anxiety of going high is enough to make me want to turn off Dex Share so they can’t see any of my numbers and I don’t have to feel as bad about it.”

“Have you done it?”

“No. But sometimes I want to so badly. Just for a break. Even though I know I’ll get in trouble. That probably makes zero sense-“

“It makes a lot of sense, Peter. You want control, or rather, to feel in control. Sometimes we burn out. Dexcom was getting too expensive, but I also wanted a break. The constant numbers and arrows started giving me really bad anxiety. And then I’d start thinking there were good and bad numbers and that those numbers defined me as a person, even though I knew they didn’t. I get it, Peter. This shit is complicated and confusing, but your feelings about it are real and valid.”

He reaches for her hand and squeezes it, thankful that someone else gets it. It doesn’t fix everything, and it doesn’t make it all magically feel better, but it helps.

After they order their food and drinks at Starbucks, Peter unclips his pump to bolus, frowning when he sees the screen. “Sensor error. I’m so fucking sick of this shit,” he whispers. “I’m literally ready to rip my Dexcom off and just be done with it forever.” As if on cue, a text from Tony comes through about him having no Dexcom data. Peter replies, knowing that if he doesn’t explain, he’ll have to deal with Tony later. “It says it should be back up within the next three hours,” Peter texts.

“Do you have your meter?” MJ asks, just as Tony texts Peter the exact same thing.

“No, and Tony’s gonna end up yelling at me about that, too. He’s always on me about having backup everything and I just…” he trails with his phone in his hand, realizing his voice is rising and that people are looking over at him. “I’m sorry,” he whispers to MJ, holding back sudden tears. “I’m just really frustrated right now.”

“It’s okay, I have extra lancets,” she says, digging through her backpack. “You can use my meter.” She hands her kit over and Peter takes it. “There’s alcohol wipes inside.”

“Thanks,” he says quietly. “I’m gonna go use the bathroom.”

“I’ll grab our food and drinks and meet you outside, okay? Take your time.”

Peter’s gone for longer than he expects to be, but he’s happy that she doesn’t comment on it when he comes outside. He unzips her backpack to put her kit back and pulls their snacks out while MJ holds their drinks.

“Did you want to walk to the park?” she finally asks, and Peter just nods because he’s on the verge of crying after Tony’s barrage of texts about him not having his meter and he’s not sure why he’s reacting to this so badly. His blood sugar was 98 when he checked and he’s already bolused for the Starbucks. As they walk, he thinks about how things are completely fine, and yet… “Peter?”

“Hmm?” he manages, realizing that they’ve reached the park. It means they’ve walked for blocks in silence, Peter lost in his head and emotions. She doesn’t seem angry about it, but he feels kind of guilty. Today is their first day together since they’ve agreed to start going out, and he knows he’s ruining it.

“I know you’re not okay and it’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it, but I’m also happy to listen.”

“I’m…I…I don’t know,” he says quietly, tears streaming down his face as he stops on the sidewalk. He uses his arm to wipe his tears away, but they return. “I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s not a big deal. What happened isn’t even a big deal. One second I’m okay and then the next I-I can’t stop fucking crying about e-everything…”

He hates that he’s having a breakdown just outside of Central Park in front of his girlfriend and everyone else milling about but he doesn’t know how to make it stop. His breath is coming in short pants and he can’t get himself to sit on the curb or put down the ice cold drink in his hand. He’s frozen, eyes squeezed shut because he doesn’t want this to be happening, doesn’t understand why this keeps happening when nothing is even wrong…

Peter can feel that time has passed, is stuck in a daze when he opens his eyes and sees MJ looking back at him. They’re on a bench in the park, covered by the shade of some trees. He doesn’t remember walking here, sitting down. “Hey,” she says, her fingertips brushing his hand. “You back with me?”

“MJ, I’m so sorry, I-I…I completely…”

“You went low. You were awake but out of it. That’s probably why you got so upset before. Your body knew you were dropping. I got you to drink your drink, but you fought me a little. Do you want to test?”

With a shaky hand, he reaches for his drink and takes a sip, realizes a moment later that he’s bolused but forgotten about his snack. That, and they’ve walked a few blocks to get here. “Shit. How long has it been since we left Starbucks?” He feels tears pricking again, finds the cake pop he ordered from his backpack and shoves the whole thing into his mouth, forcing himself to chew. “This is really embarrassing,” he says, mouth full.

“You’re not embarrassing me,” she assures him as she goes through her backpack. “We go low. It happens. You must be really sensitive to the heat and exercise. Some people are.”

“This is not how I wanted today to go,” he says, taking MJ’s kit and going through the motions of testing. He’s glad MJ has individual lancets. They’re kind of cute, if a lancet could even be considered cute. The meter beeps. 67 appears.

“We’ll sit for a bit, wait for you to come up.”

Peter sighs. “I feel like shit.”

“Do you want me to call Happy? See if he can-”

“No! Tony can not know about this!” Peter argues. “I’ll be okay, I just need to sit. I just…need to not have to worry about what Tony is going to say.” He puts his head in his hands. “This is…so embarrassing. I can’t believe I cried like that…in front of you…”

“I don’t care that you cried in front of me, Peter. I really don’t.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re MJ and you’re the absolute best and you’re trying to be nice to me.”

“This is not just me being nice. I’m being honest with you. Why don’t you believe me when I say that?”

He can hear in her voice how she’s getting slightly irritated, is trying to hide it just like Tony does. It doesn’t help that he’s still low and coming up, irritated and feeling gross because his face is wet with tears.

“I should go,” Peter says, grabbing his backpack. Everything is too much, feels too heavy, like it might suffocate him if he doesn’t get away from it all.

“What? No, Peter, you’re-“

“I’m fine, MJ!” he yells, turning to face her. “I don’t need you to babysit me!”

“I’m not babysitting you! I’m trying to be a good friend and you’re being a complete asshole right now! I’ve been patient, Peter. And understanding. But all you’ve done today is yell at me and tell me that I’m lying to you even though I’ve never lied to you! Is this because you’re low?”

“Wow. Really?”

“What?”

“I would think that you of all people would know what a cheap shot that is!”

He goes to walk away because processing what she’s said hurts too much, is too true and he knows it, but she grabs his half-open backpack, which falls from his arm, the contents spilling out on the pavement.

They both kneel down, his hand going for the fabric of his Spidey suit before MJ’s can get there.

He’s too late.