#peter parker x mj

how great is it that the marvel/spider-man fandom predicted mj’s personality so well?? i felt like i already knew the character because of all the stuff ive seen made from fans, it made me so happy.

i love my awkward activist so much.

CH.7—Dealing With It

Part 7 of the ‘Stuck On You’ series

—

You stood in front of Peter’s dorm room, heart thumping. You were face-to-face with the blocky and rather boring exterior of his door, though aside from the minimal amount of, well, anything, you felt a tremendous amount of heaviness in your chest. Still, you couldn’t help but notice how plain his door was, just in contrast to the others in the hall. There was hardly anything on it except for a small dry erase board. On it, in slightly uneven and overly blocky letters wrote, ‘Ned & Peter’s room’. Good Lord, they could use some re-decorating.

And you were standing there for a not-so-bad reason. As far as bad reasons go.

Because for some reason, up until practically 2:00AM you could not, for the life of you, get yourself to send the text to Peter telling him to meet you. It felt near impossible after all the crap you’d put him through, first the ghosting and… Well, that was it, but it was not fun to be ghosted. You knew all the thoughts that could swarm through your mind when it happened, hell, it could be worse than awful.

So maybe trying to make this up would work. Michelle said he wasn’t likely to take it out on you. Whatever that meant, though her advice tended to be sounder than most others. That was about as far as that conversation went, even when you pressed her for more information. But she didn’t budge. Said it was better for you to find out yourself. In person.

So that’s what you were doing. Or starting to do. At 2:15AM last night.

Writing a letter to Peter about some of what had been going on: the awkward feelings, family shit you’d put away for such a long time, you never thought it’d be a problem. How it was your fault and you were sorry, but thought it’d be good to talk it out. Maybe make it up to him. You could talk to Peter, right?

Of course, this was all entirely condensed after about forty minutes of rewriting and crumbling up pieces of paper out of the back of your biology notebook. All the notes were online, anyway.

And it went something like this:

Hey Peter, I want to start out this message with an apology. I’ve been acting really weird lately, I know. It’s just some personal stuff I’ve been trying to deal with, and while it doesn’t involve you, it’s been affecting how I think about you.

If possible, I’d like to start things over again. Explain to you what’s been going on, and maybe we can talk over The Hobbit, pt. 2, even though I know you said it’s 'nothing like the Lord of the Rings’. Text me if you’d be down. Please don’t be mad. Y/n

Okay, so not too bad… Right?

You slipped the note underneath his door, hoping that this archaic version of communication was a better choice than texting. It was sort of romantic, wasn’t it? Not that it necessarily needed to be, just that it added a bit of a personal touch. Showed you actually cared about making it up to him.

Once the note was under the door, you didn’t hesitate to head back down the hall back to you room. It was already awkward enough for your to watch people read your notes, and even more so just at the thought of Peter reading your letter at all.

The door behind you couldn’t slam shut fast enough. You went straight to your desk and opened your biology textbook to the chapter reading from last class. But despite your incessant staring at the charts of taxonomic rank and skimming through the paragraphs, your mind was hardly processing the information you read.

—

Peter’s hand fidgeted on the edge of the study table, fitting the intensity of his burning stare into the cold tile floor. He wasn’t in his room, he was in the science building on the other side of campus. He honestly felt a bit odd coming back to his dorm room on the daily when a pretty big aspect of his reason for being social there was practically nonexistent for the time being.

He didn’t count himself as the type to avoid things, at least not on purpose. But oftentimes he knew he could get anxious when thinking about about confrontations. And right now, his anxiety was through the roof, causing his leg to continuously shake as he stood, leaned up against one of the tables in a study room.

MJ was there, too, watching calmly from her chair as her friend Peter turn into what was basically the definition of a 'nervous wreck.’ The whiteboard was scribbled all over from him and MJ’s study session—while she wasn’t studying science, general education classes were a pain in the ass for her. She had apparently decided on the exact math that she found out all too late she didn’t have the brain for. Physics. In other words, she’d slept through the first two weeks not understanding the fundamentals of the class until it was past the drop class deadline.

So when Peter had asked her, just out of the blue one day, if she needed help with studying for any classes, the answer was obvious—Abso-fucking-lutely.

But it was obvious he was no longer focusing on the lesson, and for all his efforts in trying to illustrate the algebraic equations on a giant board that seemed to just as equally match her sense of dread for the next quiz, it was clear he was bombing it in his personal life. And not in the good way.

“Okay, buddy. Talk.” MJ decided this was better to get it over with.

Peter let out a long breath, hands moving to clasp in his lap while his leg stayed in motion. “It’s kind of a weird, long story.”

When she gave him a look of unmistakable dry sarcasm, he sighed. “Okay, so the other day I was doing my usual business, like not business, but you know, uh, like as—” he made a web-slinging hand, “—and there were these guys that were in an alleyway and I was on the roof of Brownstone with Cindy and—”

MJ looked at him with a frown as she interjected, “Okay, whoa, slow down. First, I meant 'talk’ as in not driving yourself insane. You’re almost making me have anxiety, and second, you mean Cindy from high school?”

He nodded. “Yeah, and these guys were trailing y/n, so I was going after them, and I fought this guy with a knife—”

“That explains the bandage,” she noted with a nod towards his taped-up hand. She’d been wondering about that.

“Right, yes,” Peter acknowledged then continued, “And… Okay, so I followed her and I fought a guy with a knife, but then the guy with the knife had friends, so I got her out of there, and we were back in her apartment and she told me not to leave cause of my hand, so I didn’t, and basically I think she said she liked me, but then also kissed me, but like, not me, and I honestly just have no clue what’s going on since she hasn’t been talking to me.” He finally finished with a deep breath.

MJ took a second to process that information before she nodded nonchalantly. “Yup. Sounds about right.”

He ran both hands over his face slowly. “Michelle, I’m just not too sure—”

“Don’t call me Michelle,” she said seriously.

“Okay, uh… MJ?” That name sounded weird to say, too.

She paused before responding. That was weird for her to hear as well. “No, you’re right just say Michelle. I’m also half bullshitting you. Sorry, continue.”

Peter bit his cheek. “I’m just not too sure if I’m just crazy for still liking her, or if this just shouldn’t work out…” He looked to her for help as his voice trailed off.

She stared at him curiously. “Why do you say 'shouldn’t?” “Because…” He hesitated. “Maybe this is just… Too much to work out?” “Which part? The whole Spider-man thing, or you guys not talking?” “Both.” “Peter,” MJ started, “You’ve known her for how long?” “Uh… I don’t know. Since last fall.” “Right. And when did these issues start coming up?” She looked at him with a piercing gaze.

He fidgeted slightly under it. “A few weeks ago… I think.” “Uh huh. It’s been about a month, don’t worry, and a month is a long time to be in conflict with someone,” Michelle said sympathetically. “And aside from the fact that I’ve known her since freshman year and she’s my roommate, aside from the fact that I know she’s a good person,” she continued, “She does have some things to work through that I hate to see cause they’re difficult. But to be honest… Maybe you shouldn’t ask her out.”

That was not the advice he was expecting. At all. Peter stared at her for a moment, stunned.

“And before you say, 'Why Michelle? Can’t I just ask out a girl I like?’ my answer is, yes you can, but it’d probably benefit both of you if it happened after you’ve dealt with your respective issues,” Michelle stated as-a-matter-of-factly.

He thought about that for a minute before his expression turned to a frown. “Wait, a second… You said 'your respective issues.’”

She just shrugged, as if there was nothing wrong with that statement.

“What are my 'respective issues?’” Peter asked a little incredulously, standing up with his arms folded.

Michelle just looked at him up and down and let out a laugh. And when he didn’t respond, looking genuinely puzzled, she decided his self-awareness needed some work. “Peter, here’s a prompt: name some things good about yourself.”

He hesitated a moment before answering. “Uh… I mean, I think I’m… Not like, unfunny, I’m good at solving problems, I try to take care of myself and I care for my friends.” “Okay, good. Now name some bad things about yourself.” Silence.

“You see the problem here?” MJ asked, eyebrow raised. “Believe me, you’ve also got issues, and if I didn’t know you better, you’d probably appear almost nearly perfect.”

The moment of silence after that caused MJ’s face to turn slightly red. “But continuing with the point,” she said quickly. “And I’m going to be kind of brutally honest.”

Peter nodded. He was fine with that. “Go ahead.” “You have a tendency to drop people at the first sign of a problem,” she stated flatly.

He blinked, facial expression a mix of anticipation and confusion. “When—” “You want me to drop some examples, as awkward as it’s going to be, right now?” “I mean, yeah,” he replied, because in all his past relationships he didn’t feel like that was ever an issue.

“Prom night,” she said. “You left me at the restaurant after I said I thought Peter Jackson’s films used too much CGI.” Peter scoffed, discomfort creeping into him. “There was a robber outside.” “He stole a half a salad and breadsticks from Olive Garden,” Michelle sighed. “Those things are free, Peter.” She paused. “Or were.”

Peter rolled his eyes impatiently. “Okay, any other examples?” “Yeah. Family dinner, two years ago.” “I went to that.” Right? “No, you didn’t. You faked being sick because my grandma made fun of you,” she laughed.

He let out a breath. “Your grandmother is kind of mean, okay? And a little scary.” “'Cause she called you chicken legs?” “Yeah, that too. Like I get the whole thing about not skipping leg day, alright?”

MJ rolled her eyes. “Last example I’m going to give: my birthday. In June.” She sighed, eyes glancing to the corner of the room.

Peter looked up, his annoyance lifting from his expression. He searched her face, and realized she genuinely seemed to carry some regret. There was a hint of sadness to her stare.

Her eyes shifted back to him. “We got into a big argument the day before, and you didn’t show up.”

If he was feeling at all antagonistic or any tension towards her, it was now gone. There was a softness to her gaze, and this was the side of Michelle that Peter had, back in high school, well… Fallen in love with.

He broke off eye contact, a sense of guilt creeping in. “I’m really sorry about that, Michelle,” he murmured.

He remembered being angry then, and in the heat of the argument, forgotten what day it was the next day. Things were building up. She hadn’t talked to him for a long time after, so Peter had just assumed that things were over and that was that.

“It’s cool,” she responded, a sense of resignation to her tone. “Not like I haven’t had good birthdays since, so it’s fine.”

While he wasn’t looking directly at her, he thought he could see her bring her sleeve up to her eye momentarily. He also knew she wouldn’t feel great if he tried to console her. He wasn’t sure if he’d want it from himself either. How could he have been such an asshole then?

“Bottom line,” Michelle continued with a breath, and her eyes brought them back together. “I think you both have got some things to work on.” He could see that. “But if you didn’t wait, like let’s say you realize, 'Wow, I really do like her’, then… I would just say, honestly commit.”

Peter felt himself nod, and he got what she was saying to him. “Look, Michelle, if there’s something I can do, just… Let me know.” He said this earnestly.

She shrugged easily enough, a flash of her usual self showing briefly. “An apology is enough. And I think you’ve got someone else to be obsessing over now,” she smirked.

He had to smile, a weight being lifted from the room. “Ha ha, very funny.”

Outside the building, the clock on campus began to ring. Peter turned his wrist over to check the time. 6:00PM. He looked to Michelle, who was packing up her notebook into her bag. “Hey, uh. Ned and I were going to pick up some food, if you want to come.”

She glanced at him, shrugged. “Sure. What kind of food?” “We’re not sure yet. Haven’t decided.” “You want to get Five Guy’s?” An eyebrow raised suggestively.

Ah yes, the amazingly greasy king of the burger chains.

Peter smiled. “Sure.”

They left the building, passing through the crosswalk and to the bus stop where Ned waited, headphones in. Michelle pulled his headphones off and whispered in his ear, “Guess who.”

He jumped and turned around, eyes flicking between the two. He must’ve felt uneasy from the easy expressions they had on their face. He smiled in response, “Hey, MJ!” Before quickly pulling Peter aside as they started walking, whispering fiercely in his ear. “What happened between you two?!”

Peter pushed him off, straightening the straps of his backpack. “Nothing, dude. We just talked.” “'Just talked?’ Yeah, right dude, I told you she—”

Michelle suddenly came up behind them, an arm on either side. Silence ensued. “No, don’t quit talking now. Genuinely curious on how much you’ve missed me in your loser friend group.”

Ned started to jab back, and as the they chattered back and forth, Peter felt an old sense of high school come back to them. And he grinned.

—

Back at the dorm, you looked at your alarm clock sitting by your bed. 11:00PM.

Flopping over on your stomach, you checked your phone for text messages. Nothing from Peter. Or Michelle. You’d texted her, asking if she wanted to have a girl’s movie night. Nada. You had to wonder whether or not Peter had gotten your letter, but more than that, you had a sinking feeling debating whether or not he’d even accept it.

And after a few more minutes of lying on your bed in silence, you began to feel stupid for writing one in the first place. He usually came back early to do something with Ned. Or you. And you’d hardly heard that much noise in the hallway of passerbys.

You sighed. You were definitely overthinking it. And the thing was, who’s to say that Peter even still felt the same about you? You’d given him plenty of reasons to back off, and there’s the possibility that he maybe just finally did.

Either way, you needed your mind off of this.

Sifting through your phone apps, you go through each folder and see if there was anything that would interest you. There wasn’t really any games you felt like playing, and you had a lot of those. Then, thumb finding its way to the next page, you spotted a familiar flame-colored icon. Opening the app, you hadn’t been on there in ages, although looking at the different profiles you’d matched with on there, you couldn’t really remember why.

You went through the profiles that showed up, swiping left, left again, before seeing a profile that perked your interest. He had a neat haircut with a smooth fade. He had a somewhat similar build as Peter, though if possible, a little slimmer.

Miles Morales. 18. 20 miles away.

He had pretty sweet outfits as well. Lots of bright colors, definitely more of a streetwear look.

You started to swipe right, then decided against it. From last year’s experience, hooking up with freshman guys was a bad memory too many. You felt yourself cringe at the memories and the all-too-many bad decisions. Moving on.

As you continued to swipe, a middle-aged man showed up. You forgot you must’ve changed your settings. He had graying hair, but surprisingly it wasn’t unattractive. You tapped on his profile and looked through his photos. They were decent quality, not the old phone camera pics you’d expected. His body had a semi-muscular outline for his age, like he could have worked in construction or something similar. Something about his expression seemed warm and inviting.

Adrian. 44. 5 miles away. 'Looking for someone to connect with, share a drink. Not looking for long-term, just a fun night out.’

Sounded distracting enough. You tentatively swiped right, and it came up a match. Feeling a sense of anticipation, you were deciding on whether you should message him, when even more surprisingly, he sent you one first.

>Hey, hon. :) You look stunning

A small smile forming on your face, you replied back.

Thanks. You, too <3

He seemed to respond pretty quickly, an easy conversation going back and forth.

>You a college student?

Yeah, I am.

>How’s that going for you?

Pretty good :) Although it could be going better

>Why’s that?

You paused for a moment.

Just some boy problems

>Adrian is typing… >Any advice you might want from an old man?

No thanks. Just figured it’s pretty typical complicated bs :P

>Haha, figures. >You want to come over now?

Y/n is typing… Sure, why not?

>Great! My address is [insert number/street]. I can come pick you up

Thanks. :) I’m at [insert hall].

You got up and left your phone on the bed, a pit of anticipation in your stomach. Though, in the back of your mind, you felt some small part of you want to hold back, more of you was desperate to get out of the suffocating coffin that was your room.

About half an hour later, you decided on a white tank, cuffed jeans, and a black bomber jacket that used to be your dad’s. Just a thin layer of lip balm later, and you were ready to go. As you left your room, you had your phone, dorm keys, and a small can of pepper spray disguised as pink lipstick. It was one of those impulse purchases on Amazon that actually had gotten you out of a couple of hairy situations before.

Pushing through the doors of your hall, you felt the cool early-spring air hit your face. About twenty feet away, you could see his car along the side of the road leading off campus. He got out, wearing a worn leather jacket and greeted you with a smile. You quickly got into his car and asked if you could turn the radio on. He obliged.

As he pulled out onto the road, you put the window down and breathed out, hoping that some switch of pace could change things for the better.

Ned: Come on, Peter! If you don’t tell MJ how you feel, she’s going to leave you and then you’re gonna have to play chess by yourself!

Peter: Jokes on you because I already play chess by myself!

Ned:Dude…