It's been a shitty day.

Sandman royally kicked his ass before Peter managed to wash him down the sewer; Jonah docked his pay for not delivering anything that could be used against Spidey; he probably failed his bio test today; Aunt May has pneumonia and keeps trying to get out of bed anyway.

So he takes some ibuprofen and goes to a bar to get hammered.

He's about two drinks in when he hears a girl saying loudly, "Listen, dick, back off."

"C'mon, baby," a clearly drunk guy slurs. Peter turns his head and sees some muscle-head in a wife-beater pressing a gorgeous redhead into the bar. He keeps tryign tpo reahc out and touch her, and she keeps squirming away from his hands.

"I said to fuck off," She bites out.

"C'mon, you don't dress like that for no reason," he purrs.

Peter's up and walking towards this dickbag before he even realizes it.

But before he gets there, the girl pours her drink over the guys head, and when he's sputtering, punches him a good one in the jaw.

"I dress like this because I want to, asshole," she says, pushing him off her.

For a second, he's on his ass on the floor, gaping. Then he barrels up, fists clenched. "Bitch!" The guy yells, and Peter yells, "Hey!" and when he turns his head, decks him in the nose. He feels the bone crunch; he was so mad he forgot to soften his blow.

"What the fuck?" The guy yelps.

"I don't like how you're talking to the lady, man," Peter says softly. "Why don't you get going before I reiterate my point?"

"Fuck you both," the guy hisses, getting up and stalking out of the bar. The bartender comes over and glares. "You gonna make any more trouble, boy?"

"No sir, he won't," the girl says, smiling brightly at him. The big, muscly, tattooed guy softens and says, "Can I get you another drink, miss?"

"Yep, and one of whatever my friend here is having," she says, clapping him on the shoulder. He nods, and then the girl turns to Peter.

"Hi," she says pleasantly. "Hi," Peter replies.

She sticks out her hand. "I'm Mary Jane, but most people call me MJ."

"I'm Peter," he says, shaking her hand. Their finger clasp and linger together as their eyes catch.

"I appreciate the help, but I didn't really need it," she says. "I'm a waitress, I know how grabby assholes work."

"I know," Peter says. "I just don't like guys like that."

"You and me both," she agrees. "You wanna have a drink with me?"

"Definitely," he says.

They do't actually drink all that much, because they're too busy talking. MJ is a waitress during the day, an aspiring actress, and taking night classes at ESU. She lives in Queens, too. Her favorite movie is Breakfast at Tiffany's and her favorite book is 1984. As much as he learns, he's telling her back about himself.

He's just told her about his goofy science nerd days, leaving both of them in laughter, when she leans forward and kisses him. He can't help but tangle his hands in her hair and press her closer, and when she finally pulls away, all he can get out is, "Wow."

She smirks. "Face it Tiger, you just hit the jackpot."

Today wasn't so bad after all.