Chapter 7
Peter knew what it was like to have a gun shot go off right next to his head, he knew how Manhattan traffic sounded with his super hearing, and he would rather experience those things all over again than stand where he was. Michelle’s silence was deafening.
“MJ, are you mad? I would’ve told you earlier, it’s just… Well, you get it. No one can know.” He couldn’t read her. Even when he talked, it was like he was talking to a brick wall. “You have to say something,” Peter pleaded.
“I…” she started, “I don’t know what to say.” Her voice was a small whisper. He was shocked he even heard her.
Peter inched towards her. “I know how weird this is, MJ. And I know--trust me, I know--how dangerous it is, but I’m still here. You don’t have to worry about that. And I only told you because I trust you. Completely.”
Michelle, her eyes watery, made eye contact with Peter. She took a step back. She said, “You’re Spider-Man,” like it finally all clicked.
“Yeah, I am. Are you… okay with that?” He heard a car door slam, from a few miles away, but still anxiously pulled his mask halfway down. When he did, Michelle scoffed and distanced herself again.
“I feel like we just had this conversation last night,” she scowled, running her fingers through her hair. “God, Peter, I’m not okay with you almost getting killed every night! Why didn’t I just buy the wrestling excuse,” Michelle asked herself.
“But, I don’t get killed. You’ve seen me in action! You know how agile I am. I’ve never even been seriously injured.” As soon as those words left his mouth, she perked up.
Michelle pushed him in the chest. Hard enough to knock him backwards. “You got stabbed last night. I watched as you sewed yourself up. Don’t say you--”
“There isn’t even a scar there.” Peter showed her the hole on her suit where he had been bleeding from the night before. She leaned down, delicately moving her fingers across his skin. “I have healing powers, MJ. That’s why my bruises were always gone the next day.”
“I just thought you were really good at makeup.” Michelle stood up straight, narrowing her eyes. “The eyes on this mask is creeping me out.”
“Be serious. What do you think?”
She sniffed and took his arm, analyzing the fabric of his suit. “It- it’s very impressive,” she said The suit? His powers? Peter didn’t know. Michelle pressed the pressure point on his hand, making webs fly in the air. “Woah.”
“Not about the suit, MJ. Your opinion matters to me.”
“If I asked you to stop, would you?” Hesitantly, Peter shook his head no. “You are more committed to this than anything else in your life. More than school, more than m-- More than Ned.” She touched the spider on his chest, flinching when it waved to her.
“That’s not true,” he argued.
“I got dressed for a date. I know it wasn’t meant to be one, but I woke up yesterday morning and got ready for a date.” Michelle refused to look at him, just continued trailing her fingers across the crevasse of his suit. “And you put this on.”
“What are you saying, MJ?”
She looked up at him, finally, her eyes searching his suit’s goggles. “I’m saying-- God, I don’t know what I’m saying, Peter. I think that what you’re doing is heroic and brave but if you think that just because you’re agile, you can’t get killed, you’re a fucking idiot.”
“Of course I don’t think that, but--”
“You need to be careful. I am not going to be some kind of weeping little girl all the time because I’m so paranoid about why you’re not texting me back. And if I see one more gunshot or stab wound, I swear to god, Peter, I’ll beat your ass harder than those criminals did,” Michelle ranted frantically, backing Peter up as she pointed her finger into his chest.
“So you don’t hate me?” he asked. His hands gravitated to her hips and rested there, and he felt her relax. “I’d really like it if you didn’t hate me.”
Michelle put her hands on his shoulders instinctively. “I don’t hate you, Peter. You’re just an idiot, and I’m going to worry about you, so much.” She rested her head in the crook of his neck, and let out a long exhale.
If he’d said anything more, he probably would’ve ruined it. So, he closed his eyes and buried his head in her hair, pulling her as close to him as possible. Michelle smelled like him, obviously having slept in his bed the night before, in his space, but Peter hadn’t realized how much he enjoyed that.
“Peter, there’s something I need to tell you.” She pulled back, but her arms still hooked around his neck.
“Oh?” he gasped out. Maybe it was just his hormonal body, but he missed having her against him instantly.
“I-- I’m Mary.”
For the smallest of moments, Peter’s brain shut down. “Who?” he blurted. For a while now, Michelle had only been Michelle. Peter liked Michelle, not anyone else, and at five in the morning, he forgot that he once knew her under another name.
“Patrick,” she grimaced, as if saying the name hurt her. “Oh my god, I just got how you took all those photos. Luck my ass! Uh, anyways, I’m sorry for blocking you when I found out who you were. You see, at the time, I kind of hated you.”
“Oh.” He’d known that, but hearing it still hurt.
“You were my only friend for the longest time, so when I found out that you were Peter Parker, I freaked. And I shouldn’t have, because knowing you in real life is so much better than just online. I wish I’d figured that out earlier. I’m so glad you put up with my bullshit when we were put together as partners.”
The only reason that he’d ‘put up with her bullshit’ in the first place was because he knew. He knew that Michelle was actually a good and funny person underneath her rocky exterior, but was Peter supposed to fess up as well? He should’ve. That seemed like the perfect opportunity to. But… would she get mad at him? He was pushing his luck that morning, and if he said that, Michelle probably would’ve lost it.
Right?
“It’s okay, MJ,” Peter said. “Really.”
She grinned at him, going in for another hug. Hopefully, with more guilt on Peter’s shoulders, this one lasted for a while.
@spideyupdates: your fan account for me is so nice, mj. you're my biggest supporter
@spiidermfans: i am three seconds away from changing my layout to thor. watch your ass
She felt free.
Peter knew everything about her; he knew about her mom, he knew about her father and their relationship, and she finally told him about their prior relationship. Michelle only wished she saw his eyes when she admitted it, because she honestly couldn’t tell how shocked he was. Or, if he was shocked at all.
Nevertheless, Michelle had never had this experience before. She kept everything about herself bottled up until she exploded, but now that Peter was in her life, she finally felt safe enough to tell him how she felt. And good, did that feel good.
Peter being Spider-Man, though-- the stress might kill her. She didn’t want to cry over her phone every night because he wasn’t replying, but Michelle knew that’s what was going to happen. She didn’t want him to be hurt, in any capacity, but it was going to happen. Michelle imagined that, one day, Peter would crawl through her bedroom window, bloody, broken, almost blue due to lack of oxygen, and she wouldn’t know what to do. Thinking about it made her nauseous.
But, for now, Michelle was lying in Peter’s bed again. He went out to get breakfast--a couple donuts and two bottles of chocolate milk--and she covered her head with the blankets, trying to fit a small nap in before he got back. She was exhausted.
As soon as she drifted, though, Peter came back, and closed the door with extreme care. “May is still sleeping,” he whispered. “Shit, are you asleep?”
“No,” Michelle yawned, sitting up. He peeled his shoes off and laid next to her in his bed after planting the box of donuts at her feet. She reached forward, taking an apple fritter. “I love these,” she said, taking a bite of it.
“You’re welcome.” Peter took his own glazed donut, getting glaze on the top of his mouth.
“So,” Michelle started, “are you going to do this for the rest of your life? And I mean that in a non-judgmental kind of way.”
“As long as I can.” He took another bite. More glaze, now on his chin. “I’ll do it until my back gives out, and maybe even after that. I’ll fight gang members with my walker. What are you going to do with the rest of your life?”
Peter put his legs underneath the covers, and he audibly gasped when her foot starting toying with the edge of his sweatpants. “I don’t know. Maybe architecture. Maybe politics.”
“Architecture is pretty sweet,” he nodded along, and scooted closer to her.
She stuffed down another bite of apple fritter, chasing it down with a drink of chocolate milk. Michelle nervously laughed when she saw Peter watching her. “What? What’s up?”
“You’re a beautiful eater.” He grinned, and ate the last bit of his glazed donut.
“No one is a beautiful eater.”
“You are.”
She rolled her eyes, and reached forward with her hand. “Well, if I’m a beautiful eater, then you’re an ugly one.” Michelle cleared his face of glaze. “How do you even get it on your forehead? I thought Spider-Man was supposed to have grace in everything he did.”
Peter just shrugged, his eyes exploring her’s, his breath hot against her face. And with his chin in between her fingers, Michelle hesitantly brought his face closer to her’s. Their touched, their lips grazed just ever so lightly.
“I like you,” she murmured. That last thing, and Peter knew absolutely everything.
“I like you, too.”
She closed the minimal gap between them. Peter swiftly moved her so she was on her back, accidentally kicking the donut box off the bed and making Michelle drop her chocolate milk onto the floor. “I’ll clean it up later,” he said, brushing it off.
Michelle wrapped her legs around him, and let go of her one remaining bite of apple fritter to put her hands through his hair. His kisses were fast and tender, making every part of her body light on fire. And when his hands went underneath her shirt, but only worshiped the bend of her lower back--Michelle was going to lose it.
Things with Peter were rapidly escalating. Any other guy, and she would’ve already hit the panic button a million times. But, the way Peter was tracing her skin, the way his kisses were passionate and not just rough, the way he talked to her, Michelle would’ve been ready for anything.
He moved south, trailing kisses down her jaw and neck, each one igniting a new nerve Michelle didn’t know she had. Her body screamed for more, and she directed his hands up, and up, and--
“Wait, MJ,” he panted. “Let’s stop, okay?” His hands held onto her waist, and he nodded against her forehead.
“Why?” she asked, short of breath. She twirled his hair around her fingers.
“We just need to slow things down. I can’t ditch you at Coney Island and then do this.” He rolled off of her, laying on his side. She copied him to look him in the eyes.
“It’s fine, Peter,” she assured, leaning forward to kiss him again.
It was short, though. “MJ, I want to do the whole thing. The dating and, well this, but I just-- I need to slow down. Right now, mostly.”
“Oh, okay.” Michelle, then started laughing and widened her eyes. “Oh. Oh, okay. Yeah, let’s slow down. Didn’t think it’d happen that quickly, honestly. You need some self control.”
“Shut up!” he whispered. “You’re the first girl I’ve ever kissed, remember?”
She directed him to be flat on his back, and like the night before, she rested her head on his chest. “I remember. We can just fall back asleep. Or you can go on your phone, and I can sleep.” Peter let out an agreeing grunt.
“And Peter? I want to do the whole thing with you, too.”