AUTHOR'S NOTE: So sorry for the lack of update! We are shooting for one update a week but real life issues on my end (apartment flooding and no fun work-related things) postponed everything. Hopefully we should be back on schedule now. Thank you so much for all the kind reviews and for your patience. You guys are seriously the best.
Peter Parker
voiced by melanie
Peter hasn't seen MJ in a little over a week and it feels weird after so many days in a row of walking her home. He tells himself that it had only been to make sure she was getting home safely, and it's obvious now that the thugs have gotten the hint. He tells himself he can always swing by to check on her when he's doing patrols at night so physically walking her home isn't really necessary.
The reality is that he's just too stubborn to admit that he's been avoiding her.
Yes, they were friends once. But sitting back on her couch, MJ's head against his chest as she dozed off, it was just way too easy to let himself feel things that he shouldn't. He could pretend that everything was simple, the way it was before. The reality now is that nothing in his life is simple anymore. Not with his mask in his backpack, and the police scanner on his desk. He's already learned the lesson of inviting personal leisure into this life. He won't let himself need that lesson again.
He tries not to see blonde hair, falling further and further from his reach.
Still, he can't argue with the part of himself that misses seeing MJ. Their quick banter back and forth, the way she would smile at him with that devious glint in her emerald eyes when she was teasing, how she was the only one who had no problem calling him out when he was wrong, and enjoyed doing it just as much. Aunt May used to laugh at them, say they fought like cats and dogs sometimes, both too headstrong for their own good. He misses that, too.
Peter can blame that entire train of thought for why he's walking into the diner that morning, if anyone asks. Even if in reality, he does have an excuse. Aunt May is picking up a shift there, so he can say he's just visiting like he always used to, coming to snag a donut and grab a free cup of coffee. If he doesn't think about it too hard, it doesn't sound totally pathetic. Not at all. It doesn't sound like he's making up whatever possible excuse he can just to see her, even for a split second.
The look Aunt May gives him when he comes shuffling in, swinging his bag over one of the stools at the counter, is happy but also a little knowing.
"Don't you have school today?" she asks, eyebrows raised as she refills the two cups of soda on her tray.
"What, I can't visit my favorite Aunt between lectures?" Peter responds with an easy grin, and then, "I just got back. All learned up." He taps a finger to his temple to accentuate his point and Aunt May smiles and shakes her head at him as she heads back to one of her tables.
The truth is, he's missed a few classes over the last week and he's got a pile of projects to do on his desk at home. It's just hard to focus on those things when his nights have been spent swinging around the city looking for a man with metal wings whose favorite past times seem to be robbing banks and injuring innocent civilians. It's becoming a juggling act that he's not very good at.
Peter's thoughts are cut short when the bell above the diner door chimes. Reflexively he turns to see who's coming in and before he realizes who it is, he's locking eyes with MJ. Her expression at seeing him is hard to read but he'd place it somewhere between surprise and annoyance. She flicks her braided hair over her shoulder and walks behind the counter like he's not even there.
Touche.
"Hi," Peter says, before he can stop himself, watching her rummage behind the counter for her uniform.
"Hi," MJ responds back, tying her apron around her miniature waist a little rougher than usual and he's definitely not imagining the shortness in her tone.
"How've you been?"
MJ gives him a look that he can't quite decipher. He finds himself wishing desperately that could know her like he used to. "Fantastic," she deadpans.
Peter deflates a little as she walks away, sinking back in his chair. After a beat, he reaches forward to grab a chocolate chip muffin out of the display case on the counter and Aunt May smacks his hand away as she passes by. Her look is chastising and Peter is pretty sure this is not his day.
He spends another hour or so there, keeping Aunt May company. Eventually with enough guilt-tripping, she gives in and sneaks him a donut and a hot chocolate. While he sips it, he tries not to watch MJ while she works, wondering if she's mad at him or if he's just over-thinking everything. After the third time she meets his eyes from across the room, he decides it's time to leave before he embarrasses himself any further.
He passes MJ on his way out, but she doesn't seem to notice and he doesn't say good-bye.
Peter had been waiting almost a week for anything on the Vulture to come through on his police scanner. He's on the other side of the city when the call finally comes in: a bank heist that's left two security guards seriously injured and an escape attempt that's tearing up the Roosevelt Island Bridge.
When he gets there, he's immediately surrounded by chaos. He doesn't see the Vulture anywhere, all that's left is a path of destruction and he spends a good ten minutes swinging in and out of stopped traffic, helping people to safety.
A section of the bridge is severely damaged; a large delivery truck having smashed through the side leaving a gaping hole where a handful of beams should have been. As he swings by, he sees a mini-van teetering over the edge and lands just in time to shoot a web at the hood before it topples over the side. He tries to keep himself steady, shooting another web across the road onto a rail that looks sturdy enough to hold it.
Almost immediately, the rail breaks away from the pavement. His body falls forward with nothing to hold the weight of the van and he slams into an exposed bit of concrete and cables. A jagged piece of metal punctures through his arm, a big enough gash that any normal person would need several sets of stitches. Peter barely winces, too focused on keeping himself steady.
His eyes snap up and there's a girl standing next to where the rail had been. She's young, can't be more than 20 years old, and the look on her face is one of pure terror. Peter can't get to her in time, he knows it as the edge of the bridge she's standing on begins to crumble, but it doesn't keep him from trying. He shoots a web from his right wrist, his left still holding up the mini-van as it continues to slide slowly over the edge.
As he looks down, he sees faces inside the van, a young boy eyes wide while his sister cries beside him. Their mother is as white as a sheet behind the wheel, frozen in fear and he knows he can't let them go. They're depending on him and if he swings to save the girl now, none of them will make it.
It all happens in seconds.
The web from his right wrist is off target and hits a guard rail, the girl topples over the edge and all he sees is a halo of auburn hair before she's out of his line of sight. There's so much going on, people shouting and running to get out of the fray, but her scream still seems to echo in his ears.
He realizes it's the first time in over a year that he's lost someone he should have been able to save. An image of Gwen falling flashes in his mind, the second time in two days, and he feels nauseousness overtake him.
Peter forces the thoughts away. He needs to stay focused on securing the van and getting the passengers to safety. He pulls them up, slow and steady until they're back on solid ground. The little boy clings to him when he's finally lifted to the pavement and his mother is hysterically repeating the words "thank you" over and over in a frantic mantra.
Everything else is a blur. The police get to the scene and do their best to evacuate the bridge. An officer comes running up, frazzled and out of breath. Peter is exhausted, mentally and physically, too exhausted to be snarky as Spider-man usually would. "There was a girl. She fell over the edge," he shouts over the sirens. "See if you can find her." The officer nods and immediately does as he's told, sprinting off into the distance. For once the police seem thankful for his assistance instead of shooting at his back.
Peter can almost see the Bugle headline now. 'Spider-man causes bridge chaos; NYPD aids his escape'.
He wants to focus on finding the Vulture and his cronies but after a quick sweep of the area, he knows they are long gone. He sees a group of officers scouring the river banks looking for anyone who may have fallen and survived. There are boats coming in from the distance to search the water. Too many people are being loaded into ambulances as Peter swings over them and he just doesn't have it in him to stick around.
Suddenly out of the corner of his vision, Peter sees a figure dressed in black who immediately takes to the sky. At first he thinks it's the Vulture, until he realizes the figure isn't flying, it's swinging. On the ground where the figure once was, the girl from the bridge is standing. He makes his way down to her, thinking for a brief second that his eyes might be playing tricks on him.
She is clearly shaken but very much alive when he lands at her side.
"Are you okay?" he asks, holding out on arm to steady her. The girl looks fine, not a scratch on her that Peter can see. He can't express how relieved he is to see her, this stranger he was sure couldn't be saved.
"She caught me," the girls says, sounding far away, almost as if she still can't believe it happened. "And she said to tell you 'you're welcome'."
It's one o'clock in the morning before Peter is able to head for home. His head is spinning, half thinking about ways he can get one step ahead of the Vulture and half thinking about the mysterious figure and where she came from. If it's even a she. The girl from the bridge hadn't made much sense and Peter was more inclined to get her to an ambulance for a check-up after her free-fall than stand around asking her a bunch of questions.
Still, he'd like to know where all these people are coming from. He'd make a joke about the circus being in town but he can't exactly talk when he's the one who seems to have started the trend.
Peter sighs, running a hand through his hair and he doesn't even react when he pulls it away and there's blood left behind on his fingertips. His whole body aches, he's got a pretty nasty gash on his arm too, one that only finally just stopped bleeding, so what's another head wound?
He's already back in his street clothes, suit tucked safely away in his backpack when he gets to his street. It's so late, he doesn't expect to hear shouting as he passes Mary Jane's house and it stops him in his tracks.
"This place is a sty! I work all day just to come home to this shit?"
Peter hears the shattering of glass, a vase or maybe a dish breaking.
"Dad, it's the middle of the night. Everyone can hear you-"
"Let them hear me! They should know what an ungrateful bitch I've got living in this house."
Peter has heard them fighting before, more times than he can count, but standing there now, every muscle in his body tenses. He has to force himself to remain calm, not to accidentally crush the plank of wooden fence beneath his hands. Mary Jane's voice when she responds, even muffled through the house, is strong. She sounds like an adult talking to a child, not her age at all and without an ounce of fear.
"Don't you dare call me that. You've been at the bar since 3 o'clock this afternoon. I've been at work, waiting tables so maybe our electricity won't get shut off for the third month in a row. Don't even start with me. Don't."
Her father doesn't even let her finish her sentence before he's shouting again, more glass is breaking and Peter is standing there stupidly when MJ comes running out of the house. The door slams behind her.
Their eyes meet almost immediately and he sees a flash of what he guesses is embarrassment before her resolve takes over.
"How long have you been standing there?"
"Uh..." he trails off, racking his brain for any response that doesn't equate to 'I've been eavesdropping outside your house for the last fifteen minutes and I'd like to punch your dad in the face'. He falters before speaking again. "I just got home," he says lamely.
MJ looks upset and he doesn't know if it's at him, her father, the situation or a combination of all three. She walks towards him like she's ready to give him a piece of her mind, sure and quick steps with her chin strong and jutted out. When they were younger, he always found it funny when she went off on him. She'd be accusing him of cheating as the banker in Monopoly, red face, red hair, like a firecracker ready to explode, and he'd be trying so hard not to crack up that it only made her angrier at him. This time though, he's not laughing.
She stops in front of him and all at once her expression completely changes.
"You're... bleeding," she says, green eyes snapping up to meet his. She looks so worried, all traces of her previous anger having drained from her face. Internally, he flinches.
"I'm fine." He answers quickly, keeping his tone light while he tries to wipe away the blood from his forehead with the back of his sleeve, as pointless as that is now. MJ stands up on her tip-toes to get a better look at the cut and for a brief second, leans on his arm for support. Peter winces before he can stop himself. 'Definitely not all the way healed yet.' MJ moves her hand away like she's been burned.
"You are so not fine." She says it accusingly, and he knows the flare is stemming from how frightened she is. And though he's injured, he finds himself wanting to protect her instead of the other way around.
"I was skateboarding, fell down the half pipe. Not a big deal."
For a second, Peter thinks she's just going to accept his excuse and move on but then he remembers who he's talking to.
Her expression is incredulous when she responds. "Okay well, it's two o'clock in the morning and you don't even have your skateboard."
Peter looks away, shaking his head. He's not good at lying, never has been. Since becoming Spider-man he's had to do it so often that he barely thinks about it anymore but usually that's just to Aunt May and she rarely tends to question him. He appreciates that when making up elaborate stories is still not something he likes doing.
"Maybe I fell down some stairs," Peter finally says, reciting the same words she'd said to him in his kitchen over a week ago. "You know, clumsy me."
Mary Jane crosses her arms over her chest, purses her lips but says nothing. To his credit, he does his best to look innocent.
They fall into a silence after that. Peter wonders what she's thinking about. Her house has fallen quiet, her father probably passed out somewhere inside, and all he hears is the sound of a car honking in the distance.
"I've been looking at apartments in the city," Peter says finally, completely changing the subject. He leans against the fence, fiddling with the zipper on his jacket so he has something to do with his hands. "If you ever need a place to crash..."
He looks over at her and is bothered again that he can't quite read her expression. "Your couch is always open?" she asks and smiles a little.
"If I can afford a couch. Might be the floor for a few months "
She makes a face at that, crinkling up her nose like she's fighting the urge to laugh. Peter tries to keep her talking until he's sure it's okay for her to go inside. She tells him about the audition she went to earlier in the week and he tells her more about his job at the Bugle. She picks on him for his J. Jonah Jameson impression and he pretends to be offended while she laughs at him. It feels good to talk to her again and he's glad that she lets the earlier subject drop - though he does let her wordlessly examine his face with her fingertips, gently urging him to clean himself up before they part ways.
Peter doesn't want to have to lie to her but if he's learned anything in the last few years it's that the truth can hurt more than a lie. And that, more than ever, he needs to keep MJ at a safe distance.