Keepsake
Peter’s still limping.
That’s the first thing MJ notices when Peter’s finally ushered into the windowless room that she and Ned have been hanging out in for two? three hours? – someone took their phones away when they arrived, so it’s not like they have any idea what time it is anymore.
First, she and Ned had confirmed to each other that this sucked and neither of them were actually scared, but totally understood the precaution in scooping the two them up and rushing them away to some facility upstate. Whose facility? Unclear. Avengers? SHIELD? Other non-specific government? All MJ knows is that Pepper Potts herself had assured them that they would be safe and that they were free to go at any time (when MJ asked directly, remembering her activist training) but that she hoped they’d stay until further precautions could be taken for their safety.
The suckiness of the entire situation noted and agreed upon, Ned and MJ then whipped straight into full-on conspiracy mode, rehashing their Europe trip and psychoanalyzing dead Mysterio.
“But is he really? Dead, I mean?” MJ had said, jabbing her finger at Ned. “Do we know? Was there a body?”
“Yeah…” Ned had shifted his eyes a little. “Peter said…well, he said he was dead. I didn’t ask for details. I thought it was sorta insensitive to ask how he knew. Besides, he doesn’t need to be alive to be a problem. You know that. He had help. Like the guy who just came after you?”
That’s the unlucky moment that Peter chooses to finally show up.
“What guy?” he asks. “Someone came after you?” Peter’s in normal clothes – well, not his suit at least – black t-shirt and black sweatpants, so probably not his own clothes. Institutional. Is there a storeroom of Avengers gear somewhere? Sweatpants in every size? MJ wouldn’t mind getting in on some of that.
There’s some dude with Peter who’s wearing sunglasses even though they’re indoors in a windowless room. His suit bulges unattractively around his gun. After opening the door for Peter, he now stands watching them. Or rolling his eyes. Hard to tell behind those mirrored lenses.
“You’re limping,” MJ says to Peter. It changes the subject, but moreover, it’s true. How long had it been since he’d been injured? It had only been what? A day since London? Had they really only arrived back home that very same morning? Was he going to catch a break at any point in the near future?
But Ned’s already hugging Peter, pushing past MJ to envelop Peter.
Sunglasses dude lays their phones on the table. “They’re clean,” he grunts and then tactfully retreats, leaving the three of them alone.
They barely notice.
“I’m so, so sorry,” Peter says into Ned’s shoulder. “I didn’t want them to extract you, but Ms. Potts said that we had to, that we couldn’t be sure that you’d be safe, so when she put it like that, it was scary, so I didn’t argue. May is here too, but she’s basically just yelling at people.”
“We can yell at people too,” MJ offers. She says it mostly to make Peter smile, but also to steal his attention away from Ned. Peter looks at her over Ned’s shoulder and straightens up, his hands going to his non-existent pockets. Should they hug? MJ wants to hug him, wants to be as easy with him as Ned is, but doesn’t quite know how to make it happen. Her hands twitch. She could just…reach out. He’s right there.
“Someone came after you?” he repeats.
MJ lets her hands fall back to her side and narrows her eyes. “You’re limping.”
Ned looks from Peter to MJ. “Okay, well. I’m gonna go over here for a sec. Let me know when it’s okay to come back.” He slouches to the gray couch, grabbing his phone, and fishes around in his pocket for his earbuds. Peter and MJ watch until Ned’s plugged in, then turn back to each other with indrawn breath.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“I was really scared for you, when I left you. After… I’m glad that you got somewhere safe,” Peter says.
“Yeah, I ran home. I hopped the first subway and then…” Well, that was the part she was trying to avoid talking about.
“And then?”
Fuck it. “After I got off at my stop, some guy tried to push me onto the tracks. It might have been just some crazy, but I don’t think so. It might have been an ally of Mysterio, but I can’t think how he could have found me so fast…” MJ closes her eyes and tries to remember his face. “Anyways, I already got debriefed. Or I debriefed someone? Either way, I told someone official here and they’re on it. Whoever they are,” she waves her hands vaguely at the last part. Like, where are they, anyways?
“MJ.” His hands are on her arms and his eyes are wild. Shit. She’s very into truth-telling, and he would have found out anyways, but if she’d waited, then maybe she could have bought herself a few more minutes to be here. Right here. To be this close to him. Better to rip off that band-aid, right? Better to not tease herself with more of what she was going to have to give up.
Peter pulls her into a crushing hug. “Omigod, MJ. I can’t even…that’s…I’m so sorry”
MJ tries to shrug but is trapped by his arms. Wow, is he strong. No choice but to just relax into the hug. “I’m fine. Totally fine. I’m here and I’m fine.” She hesitates and then, “It’s not your fault.”
“I know, I know. But…” He breathes into her hair. “I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, you said that already.” MJ wishes she could enjoy this. As hugs go, it’s pretty stellar. But there’s something she can sense on its way. An inbound mood-killer. An ending opening up its jaws to swallow this moment and all future ones like it.
“But I really, really am. I – we – I shouldn’t have – “ Peter can’t pick an opening.
“What do you want, Peter?” MJ hears the harshness in her voice but can’t help herself. Don’t draw this out, MJ. Get it over with.
“I want…I want… I shouldn’t…. I should make you go. If anything happens to you, I just couldn’t… You can’t get hurt because of me.”
“What do you want?” she asks again. She doesn’t say that this is a very boring conversation. So unoriginal. She could already imagine the hurt in his eyes. Not helpful. So, she repeats herself.
“I want you to be safe,” he says, words muffled by her hair.
And there it is. MJ lets the words burst out of her. After all, she’s been expecting this. “Have you seen the world we live in? Aliens and collapsing construction cranes and subway accidents. I take a risk every time I step out onto the street. I’ve died at least once already that I know of, and so have you. And you can’t save me from all of that. What. Do. You. Want?”
He pulls back, and Peter’s eyes finally meet hers again. She steels herself. Here it comes. “I want…I want to keep you. Can’t I…can’t I just keep you?”
For the first time since starting this conversation, MJ thinks maybe she doesn’t know how it will end. She blinks quickly. Once. Twice. Okay, it’s not like her eyes are suddenly blurry or something. Nope.
“Keep me?” she echoes.
“I know I shouldn’t, but –”
MJ wakes up to what Peter is saying. “Yes. Please. Keep me. That’s what I want, too.” Don’t break up with me.Don’t break up with me. Don’t break up with me.
His smile twists. “Really? Even after –”
“– Yes –”
“– Okay, but I don’t think you really know what might happen. It might get bad. Worse.”
“Have you met me? Do you think I care?” She spits out the words.
“Do you? Care, I mean?” He says softly. He takes a step forward, closing the distance that had opened up between them, and leans in. They’re nose to nose, forehead to forehead.
They just breathe for a little while MJ works up her courage. This is easier when she doesn’t have to look at him. “Yes,” she says, equally softly. “I care. I want to keep you, too.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
“It’s decided.”
“Yep. A done deal.”
There’s more silence. They breathe. Together.
Then Ned says, “You guys. You guys are adorable.”
“Shut up, Ned.” Peter and MJ say in unison.
“Awwww. I’m rooting for you guys. Is there a snack bar here, Peter?” Maybe he senses that MJ’s thoughts have turned murderous. Maybe he just realized how hard he was third-wheeling it. Instead of waiting for a response beyond Peter’s deep sigh and shrug, Ned hightails it out of there, leaving them alone.
“I love Ned,” Peter says, as the door closes behind him. “But sometimes…”
“Sometimes?”
Peter’s finger traces the chain over her collarbone and finds the remnants of the black dahlia. “You’re still wearing it,” he says, a bit wonderingly.
MJ doesn’t say, duh, I haven’t changed my clothes since you saw me last, she just says, “Of course, I am. It’s very me.”
“Very you.” Peter nods. Then MJ feels his muscles tense under her hands. Uh, oh. She tightens her grip on him just as Peter takes a step back.
Instead of a rehash of their previous conversation that she’s already bracing herself to have, Peter says, “Do you, uh, want to sit down? On the couch.” And he fucking blushes. Wow.
MJ pretends she doesn’t notice but takes the hint. “Sure. More comfy. Less drama.” She takes his hand and draws him down next to her, cuddling him as close as she can. They really haven’t solved anything. All of Peter’s problems are there right outside the door, waiting to fuck up everything he cares about.
They slide together like they fit, and MJ discovers that Peter tastes just as good as he did before his life was destroyed.
***
Sunglasses dude busts in on them not long after.
To his credit, Peter doesn’t act embarrassed at being caught wrapped around his girlfriend.
Girlfriend.
MJ realizes that her internal voice had gone there without pause. Okay, so Peter hadn’t broken up with her, but really? Girlfriend? What was this? 1954?
They stand up, more or less gracefully and Peter slides his hands down her arms. “I gotta go. Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she says, very inadequately, but what can you really say to reassure someone in such a moment? We’ll foil those dastardly supervillains and their diabolical plans? Maybe, if no one was listening in, she could get that out with a straight face. She hesitates and then hugs Peter. Tightly.
And then he’s gone.
Again.
****
After a few minutes, Ned returns with a giant soda and some nachos. “Can you believe that they have really quality hot cheese in this place?” he says, throwing himself down on the couch.
MJ waits a moment and then gingerly sits down at the opposite end of the couch. Ned offers the nachos. MJ accepts.
“Awww, I was so sure he was going to break up with you,” Ned says.
“Same, Ned. Same,” MJ says. She waits for his reaction but realizes she hadn’t been pointed enough. “I mean. I thought he was gonna kick you to the curb.”
“What?” Ned squawks through a mouthful of chips. He tries to chew while choking on his outrage. “You really think he would have dumped me over this? We’ve been friends for years. Longer than –” Longer than he’s known you.
“Why would he cut me loose and not you? It’s not like I’d be in any more danger that you would be by staying friends with him. I mean, how many times have you nearly died because of Peter’s bullshit?" Cool it, MJ, she says to herself, hearing the cruel edge in her own voice. She’s about to take out her feelings on Ned, lash out at him because he’s nearby. Peter’s gone, leaving her with this roiling mass in her gut that has nothing to with the nachos.
“Uh, well…” Ned flails.
“Right?”
“Not that many….and I’ve totally saved him, too. Like, did you ever hear about how I totally kept him from getting fried that time the Vulture’s goon came after him at school?” Ned switches to smug.
“You mean at Homecoming when the school buses all got vandalized?”
“Yep. So…”
“So, you’re an asset and I’m a liability?”
“Noooo…. but….”
“But what?”
Ned shrugs. “Peter wouldn’t do that. Not to me. And I guess not to you either, now. You’re in the club. FOS and all that. For life.”
“I’m beginning to get what that means.” MJ lets one hand creep up to her collar to finger the remains of the black dahlia necklace. It’s still warm.
“Peter really likes you,” Ned says. “Like, really really likes you.”
“Yeah, I get that.” And now she really really does. The scariest thing she could imagine before they all left on their Europe trip was having put into words how she felt about Peter Parker. And now? More frightening than being pursued by killer drones, than nearly falling onto the tracks in front of an oncoming express train, or swinging hundreds of feet above the pavement? Realizing that Peter Parker, good person extraordinaire, wasn’t going to nobly break up with her to keep her safe – that he wanted her enough to override the knee-jerk nobility that kept him saving people from burning buildings and malfunctioning elevators.
The realization is terrifying.
MJ can absolutely handle it.
“Pass me some more nachos, wouldja?” MJ slides closer to Ned. “So, how do you think that jackhole Jameson got that video?”
“Well…” Ned begins. “Here’s what I think…”
The End