It's somewhere around one in the morning and Peter is fairly sure he's imagining the knocking at the door until it gets more insistent. He stumbles off the couch and swings the door open. "Yeah?" he asks blearily.
"Hi!" she says brightly, and he blinks. "I'm so sorry, I know it's late."
She's wearing a turquoise blue concoction of feathers and sequins that after it stops assaulting your eyes is kind of pretty. But highly out of place in this bland apartment complex hallway.
"I just got off work," she says, "And I'm locked out of my apartment."
"Are you 3B then?" he asks. "My roommate Harry told me you moved in."
"Yep, that's me! I can't find my key, and well, I thought about waking up the super for another, but I don't want to make him too mad yet. Then I remembered Harry told me to drop by if I ever needed anything. You must be Peter! He mentioned you. Is he here?"
Peter feels a distressing flash of jealousy that Harry's already impressed this girl. He didn't even leave him half a chance.
"Oh, yeah, I'm Mary Jane! People call me MJ."
"Nice to meet you, MJ," he says. "Come in. Um, do you want anything?"
"Oh, just to use your phone. Oh, gosh, will a locksmith be open?" She sits on the couch and starts to kick off her frighteningly high heels. It's remarkable she can walk with such grace in those.
"Probably not," Peter tells her.
She groans. "I guess I will have to wake up Mr. Zarkofski."
"You can sleep here," Peter offers without thinking. Oh, wonderful. A pretty face and he's already giving up his bed.
"Really! Thanks, Pete! Harry told me you were just a doll. Do you have a toothbrush I can borrow?"
He leads her to his bathroom. "They're under the sink. You can shower if you want. I'm sorry, I only have guy shampoo."
"I love guy shampoo," she winks. "Thanks, tiger." She pushes him out of his bathroom and he hears the water turn on. He waits until the water turns off again and knocks. She's started singing a jazzy show tune. She has a nice voice. "I'm leaving some pajamas out here for you," he calls. "I'll be in the living room."
She breaks off in the middle of a line and says, "Thanks, Petey. I'm almost done here."
She comes in the living a lot less sparkly and surprisingly just as dazzling, in his ESU sweatshirt and too wide across the hips flannel bottoms. She plops down on the couch next to him and leans back. "Ah, yes, this'll do nicely."
"You can have my bed," he offers. "It's cool."
"Nah, this is fabulous. Cozy."
"Really, you're our guest. I'd offer you Harry's bed, but who knows when he'll get in…"
"You're eager to get me in your bed, aren't you, tiger?" she teases, and he turns red, and she laughs.
"Guess chivalry isn't dead after all," she says, then stands up and stretches. "You coming?"
He sputters; she chuckles.
"Face it, tiger. Me in your bed? You just hit the jackpot. Have fun sleeping out here alone!" She prances into his room and leaps into his bed, the door slamming shut behind her.
Dammit. His pillow and favorite blanket are in here.
And judging from the floaty laugh from the other side of the door, she knows it just as well as he does.
Harry is going to be very surprised tomorrow morning, Peter thinks.