Author's Note:

MJ's been enjoying a wealth of female friendships in this fic, but this chapter is 100% quality Peter time. (Although, I have to give you a semi-spoiler that I just finished writing a really great female friendship chapter for her with a character who has not yet appeared in the story at this point. Guesses? Hopes? Demands that will likely go unfulfilled?)

XVII

So, what's the protocol for initiating sexting?

That was the text Peter had sent her. MJ had gotten up before eight this morning and it had already been on her spy-phone when she turned it on. Her face had grown hot and her heart had pounded with anxious excitement, but she hadn't been able to respond then. Instead, she'd left her boyfriend hanging while she moved distractedly through her morning routine and went to volunteer at the hospital. That phone was her connection to Peter and she didn't like to carry it around with her; she carried his message though, in her head, for the entire morning. She took long pauses during her sketches to ensure her Night Pad impulses couldn't take over and make her drawings unfit for children's eyes. By the time MJ was heading back home, her daydreams were superseding reality.

He'd sent it early. Had Peter woken up thinking about her? Had Peter woken up hard thinking about her? MJ was wearing her Giants cap disguise, but she was sitting towards the rear of the bus and there were only a few other people on board, so she dropped the hat into her lap and pulled her hair into a ponytail before putting it back on. It was boiling outside, the bus's air conditioning kicking on and off unpredictably, and this line of thinking was warming her even more, from the inside out.

Had Peter written and rewritten the single text, worrying about his phrasing? Was he scared that she'd changed her mind since they talked about it last night? Was his wording so formal because he was really feeling the opposite―needy and undone? Jesus. MJ flapped the neck of her shirt away from her body, trying to generate airflow. When she hadn't replied, what had he thought then? She'd told him her schedule at the hospital, so he'd have realized where she was when she didn't text back all morning. Had he taken steps without her? Had he researched sexting to prepare for her eventual response? (Would there be a log of it for Tony to tease him mercilessly about, or would FRIDAY be cool about this?) Or was it a different set of steps that Peter had taken? Had he unfurled his own imaginary conversation between the two of them? Would the real MJ's sexts be able to live up to whatever this fantasy version of her had come up with? When she accepted that, whatever her boyfriend might've thought of, he'd then probably taken it beyond thought and gotten himself off to this made-up exchange, she shuddered and decided to get off the bus and walk the rest of the way home.

Her mom was at work (MJ'd had enough presence of mind to find June, who was just starting her shift, before she left the hospital), so MJ barreled straight for her bedroom and spy-phone the second she entered the apartment. She turned the phone on again (she'd been paranoid that it would make some kind of weird noise and her mom would find and see Peter's text). Giving it a minute to receive any additional texts Peter might've sent since this morning, MJ peeled off her sweaty t-shirt and left it on the floor. She unbuttoned her baggy jean shorts and let them fall where she stood. No other texts arrived, so MJ scooped up the phone and texted her boyfriend.

I'm standing in my bedroom in my underwear and I've been thinking about nothing but you for hours.

How's that? she tagged on.

There was a huge thrill in having sent that, in the fact that they were gonna do this and she'd been the one to start it. MJ kicked her shorts away and paced, tapping the phone against her sternum. It buzzed and she halted to check it.

Good afternoon to you too, Peter'd replied.

Oh. He was being normal. Should she try to backtrack? Ugh, but she wanted to do this!

I guess it's just me who's wound up about this now.

Not exactly, he texted back. I was reading Lord of the Flies on the ceiling when I got your text and I kinda fell.

Fell off the ceiling?!

Yeah, but that doesn't matter. What were you thinking about?

About your stupid text, MJ fired off, then winced. This was supposed to be sexy. They'd both moved on from the early days where her calling him an idiot was the only form of flirting she could manage. I mean, she added, I was wondering what prompted it. You sent it pretty early.

I woke up with you in my head. I can't remember what happened in my dream last night, just that you were in it, so I woke up and I had to be close to you somehow.

I'm sorry I couldn't get back to you right away.

I understand. So that's all you were thinking? Just curious about why I texted this morning?

MJ snorted a laugh. Peter clearly needed zero time to forgive her for not responding; his mind was already on the task at hand. She guessed saying that thing about standing here in her underwear was quite an effective hook.

And, she explained, feeling heat climb her neck, if you did anything without me.

Maybe. But did you just wonder that or did you picture some different possibilities? Because I know you. You like to get to the bottom of things.

Sounds like you answered your own question.

If you don't correct me, I'm going to think you were picturing me... Can I say this next part?

Yes, MJ immediately replied. She kept shifting where she stood. Please.

I think you pictured me getting myself off while thinking about you and it turned you on so much you had to go home and take all your clothes off.

Well, not all of them.

Would you? Peter requested.

What difference does it make to you? You can't see me.

I just want to know that you're naked. Her heart surged in her chest at his words. I couldn't draw somebody from memory like you can, but I can still picture you.

MJ took a deep breath.

Ok.

Awesome. I just locked my door.

She laughed, light and hysterical. Reaching back below her shoulder blades, she unhooked her bra, then shook it down her arms.

I took my bra off, MJ updated him. Underwear next.

Peter didn't respond in the time it took her to shed the last of her clothes and she frowned at her phone.

Is this ok? she checked.

Yeah, sorry, I was trapped in my jeans.

MJ laughed louder this time, at his honesty. Then, her breath snagged as it hit her that he was undressing too.

So far so good, right? Peter wanted to know.

Yeah, I think we're better at this than you are at taking your own pants off. I'd help you, she offered. Anxiously waiting for his response, she pinched her lip between her index finger and thumb, releasing the second his text appeared on her screen.

God, yes. You could do mine and then I'd do yours. In front of your mirror, maybe.

Did you like that?

Yes. Because of how much you liked it. It feels good to know about something you like, so I can do that for you.

Always so helpful, Spider-Man.

Fuck! See? When you tease me with that? That's why I need to have things I can do back to you.

Things you can do TO me? Not 'for' me? MJ grinned as she sat cross-legged on her floor, back against the dresser with the mirror he'd referred to.

Both?

If you're waiting for me to argue, I'm not going to. The thought of you doing things TO me is... She couldn't find the words to finish that sentence, so she sent it as it was.

...is making me hard? her boyfriend completed.

MJ drew in a long breath, staring at her phone.

Almost immediately, he followed the last text with, Is this too fast?

No, she typed quickly, not wanting him to worry. Keep going. Are you going to... MJ lifted her thumb from the screen as she considered whether or not she could really finish the question. Fuck it. This was Peter, and he was clearly into it. She typed again. ...touch yourself?

Already am.

Jesus. She leaned forward, bracing her elbows on her knees as she read and reread and reread and reread her boyfriend's message. She was too jittery to join him in enjoying this physically; the high of unraveling him with her words was intense.

Do you wish it was me? MJ asked. Because I do.

I always wish it was you.

Really?

Always close my eyes and lie to myself that it's your hand on me. Can't remember the last time I did this and it wasn't you.

I wish we'd had longer in private on your birthday. I know I made you be careful with your good clothes, but I swear, Peter, I wanted to rip your shirt open and lick your chest as if it was covered in frosting from your cake. She waited, but he didn't interrupt, so she continued, breathing heavily at her own thoughts and slumping against the dresser. I wanted to shove your pants down and blow you like you blew out those candles. I'm supposed to get to spoil you on your birthday, you know?

Fuck, what else?

I know you'd let me be on top for as long as I want, but I bet you want it the way it was that last time at your apartment too, she gambled. Quick and rough on the living room floor. Don't tell me you don't want it like that, Spider-Man, MJ challenged. She was drunk on newfound sexting power. I felt it for days.

FUCK

Her hands shook. She set her phone on the floor next to her leg and rubbed her trembling fingers briskly forward and back over her knees. She really doubted that had been a negative 'fuck,' but still, this was their first shot at this and―

You're incredible. INCREDIBLE. I came. FUCK. You were really in my head.

MJ exhaled massively in relief as she scooped her phone up and walked to her bed, falling face-down onto the cool cotton sheets.

I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, she told him, bunching up her pillow under her cheek and smiling into it.

God, that is way too dangerous. I can't even THINK. How am I going to do anything else ever?

Because you know how unimpressed I'll be if you fail your English class.

True. I wish you were in my arms.

Sap.

Only for you.

MJ rolled her eyes, but the look on her face was probably more pleased than she would've let Peter see if he'd really been with her.

You're really bad at acting single, she pointed out.

I'm not single, and neither are you. Ugh, sorry, that came out creepy and possessive, didn't it?

I'll excuse your creepy possessiveness for the rest of the day as long as you do the same for me.

Uh, I'd love it if you were possessive, and you're never creepy.

I told you I wanted to lick your chest like it had frosting all over it.

If that was you being creepy, I want more, Peter stated.

I definitely can't promise that it won't happen again.

No double negatives, my brain's too fuzzy.

MJ laughed softly, fondly.

Do you feel tided over? Until I see you again?

No. I'm coming.

But... you just came?

I'm coming there. Will you have dinner with me?

Smiling to herself, MJ rolled onto her back.

Of course, you dork, but is that a good idea?

It'll be fine, as long as you don't mind going out to get the food while I snoop around in your room.

I'll agree to the first thing, but you are NOT snooping in my room.

Just the sketchbook? Pleeeeease?

No way.

"There," MJ told Peter, slapping her copy of Lord of the Flies to his chest. "Pick up where you left off in yours."

"I didn't leave the compound to do homework!" he protested, turning to follow her out of her bedroom while she pulled on a thin sweatshirt and laced up her sneakers. He tossed the book aside.

"You could've come later after I'd already brought the food back."

"No, I wanted to see you."

She laughed and straightened up, grabbing her keys.

"Yeah, I got the urgency when you explained your outfit."

MJ gestured at him from head to toe. He told her he'd snuck out of the compound in his black Night Monkey getup (a dumb choice, in her opinion, since it was a hell of a lot less subtle before the sun had gone down; Peter had been pretty thoughtless in his haste), but once again, Romanoff had caught up to him on the highway. Also once again, instead of driving him back like she was probably supposed to, she'd assisted. Unfortunately, assistance meant assembling a disguise to get him from the sidewalk (where Romanoff had planned to drop him off) to the front door of the Jones apartment. MJ had opened the door to see her boyfriend standing there in track pants, a very tight black shirt that read 'STAFF' across the back, and most entertainingly, a fake mustache. But, like, a good fake mustache. Romanoff had gone undercover as a man with a mustache? Wow, she really was the best, MJ thought.

"You sure they won't be missing you?" she wondered, hesitating by the door. She wanted to do everything at once: stay with him, go get their dinner, be back already, have finished eating so she could sit on his lap and push him back into her bed.

"I have a feeling Ms. Romanoff will cover for me, but I don't know, I think everybody was busy anyway." Peter shrugged. "Mr. Stark was flying Pepper to an out-of-state doctor's appointment, May and Happy were having some kind of date night on a different level of the compound, and Dr. Banner was around, but if Ms. Romanoff tells him he's better off not interfering, he listens to her."

"Ok. I'm... really happy you came all this way."

Why the hell was honest affection making her shy when they'd done that earlier? She guessed it was that they were meeting face-to-face so soon after they'd sexted and, because that was still consuming her thoughts, she assumed it was doing the same to Peter. And if they were both thinking about it, well, it made her feel a weird mix of self-consciously vulnerable and uninhibited. It balanced out as a little bit shy.

"I would've come a lot farther to see you," Peter responded, grinning as he tugged her away from the door. "This is nothing."

"Don't be lame."

But she was smiling against his lips by then. They exchanged several close-mouthed kisses, eyelids drifting down, but not quite closing. Suddenly, Peter inhaled deeply through his nose and kissed her more adamantly as he hauled her against him. MJ bumped forward into him, then backwards into the door of the apartment as he walked her into it, hand sliding up under the back of her t-shirt. She moaned against his mouth in surprise. Fingers slipping on the material of his borrowed track pants, she pulled his hips against hers. Wow, these things didn't hide a thing, did they? Jeans kept his arousal more of a mystery unless she was looking right at his crotch, but through this flimsier material, she could feel him swelling and stiffening against her.

"Peter," she huffed as he pushed his face into her neck, making her tilt her head to the side, "I'm supposed to be getting dinner."

He kissed his way up to her ear, making her squirm.

"Do you have to?"

"Yes," MJ insisted, though it trailed into a laugh when he nosed against her ear. "I'm hungry and so are you. I heard your stomach growl before. You're going to set off car alarms."

Her boyfriend sighed and stepped back. She followed his hand with her eyes are he rubbed it roughly over his face. Usually, it would be a bad idea for her to study his hand like this, especially when she was trying to tap the breaks on their make-out session, but it was safer than looking down. If she looked down and saw the rigid shape of his cock through those track pants, she'd never leave. Or maybe she would, but not before a lengthy detour.

"But people can just turn off their car alarms," Peter suggested. It was a last ditch attempt and she grinned at him for making it.

"I'm doing this for the good of the community. You should understand that, Spider-Man."

He groaned as she nudged him back, hand on his stomach, enough to get out the door. She jogged down three flights of stairs; the downward momentum was just about the only thing stopping her from turning around and going straight back to him. After, MJ promised herself. Later.

She had her hair tucked down her back inside her sweatshirt, hood up. Her boyfriend's nearness made her want to be extra careful―if anyone picked today to follow her home, she'd be leading them right to Peter, so it was important to be inconspicuous. Staying apart now that he was in the city (and in her apartment) was difficult, but deciding what to do about dinner had been easy. Despite their best intentions, they'd never made it back to the Mexican food truck where they'd had one of their earliest dates. They were supposed to go back together, and at night, Peter'd said when he'd brought her there that first time. Oh well. They'd had a different sense of romance at the time, MJ reflected as she walked to the tucked-away spot where that truck always parked. Maybe they'd grown and, maybe, in spite of the circumstances, that wasn't a bad thing. A backdrop of strings of white lights was a nice touch, but they got all the atmosphere they needed just being together. Right now, that was the hardest thing to be. Together. But that was what MJ had, at least for the next couple of hours. She hurried.

The paper bag containing their food banged against her leg on the way home, but was still warm to the touch when she felt the side before unlocking the door to her apartment.

"Spidey, I'm home," she sing-songed. Not loudly, because she knew he'd pick it up no matter where he was in the apartment.

No, what was loud was the way she screamed right after she'd spoken, the door slamming shut behind her as she swatted it too hard in fright.

"Yeah," her mom acknowledged, staring across the room at MJ. "That's about how I sounded when I walked in and found your boyfriend reading Golden on the ceiling."

Peter waved from the couch, wearing a guilty, embarrassed smile.

"Golding," MJ muttered.

"Pardon?" June asked, cupping a hand to her ear. It was a gesture MJ had noticed her mom shared with May Parker, only when her mom did it, it was way more sarcastic.

"Golding wrote Lord of the Flies," she explained. "Golden was Memoirs of a Geisha."

"Well, thanks for setting me straight. Could you do that for this situation too? Because I'm almost positive you told me a month ago that you dumped Spider-Man on his ass."

"That's what you said?" Peter piped up. "Ouch."

MJ sighed and took their food to the kitchen table.

"Can we at least eat while we explain?"

"Only because I'm starving," June agreed, joining her and rifling through to see what her daughter had bought. "Did you get me anything?"

"Of course. Though I figured you'd be eating later."

"Grab the plates, would you, baby?" her mom requested. While MJ complied, June continued, "I'm sure you did, but I worked through my breaks today, then Nancy―you know her, nurse, lives a couple blocks east?―was leaving at the same time and offered me a ride."

"Oh, that's nice of her," Peter contributed, popping in to throw a napkin down next to each of their plates. MJ saw her mom shoot him a suspicious look.

"Did you kill that man?" June demanded. All three of them froze in place.

"No."

"Had to ask. Now eat your food before it gets cold."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Peter, what have I―"

"Yes, June."

"That's better. If I'm going to be harbouring an accused murderer for the evening, we're at least going to proceed on a first-name basis."

MJ wasn't surprised when her mom dropped the topic of Quentin Beck after that. Peter (as Spider-Man) had saved her from a mugging, so she had no trouble taking his side and calling J. Jonah Jameson all sorts of names that made her daughter smile around her enchilada. MJ did worry if June finding out her daughter had been dating an Avenger all that time would make things weird, but her mom took it in stride. There was no awkward request for an autograph or threat to keep his dangerous lifestyle away from her precious baby. June really just accepted it, but then, she had known Peter as a human being longer and better than anyone who'd just heard Spider-Man's real name on the news.

Maybe being able to judge what was precisely the right amount of information to have was something that came with maturity, because June seemed to recognize that they were approaching a point beyond which it was better for her to be ignorant. MJ lacked that ability to hold back if she was on the hunt for information. Her mother simply raised a hand to stop them when Peter began to reveal what was going on behind the scenes as more of the people who had his back were taking steps to clear this mess up.

"I don't want to know," June insisted. "I'm going to watch TV. I will be turning up the volume so as not to hear your discussion, which you may have in Michelle's bedroom." MJ started to look at Peter, but her mom's voice stopped her. "The door of which will remain fully open."

"I thought you trusted Spider-Man with your life," MJ teased.

"Do not make me embarrass you by saying what I don't trust him with," her mom advised.

With that, she left them alone and, after clearing the table and giving each other a look that seemed―to MJ―to say do you think her permission to be alone in the bedroom is a trap?, they proceeded there anyway. The relief of not having been walked in on earlier provided a certain amount of reassurance. Still, when MJ sat down on the edge of her bed and shoved her rumpled bedding aside for Peter, he took a step forward, then said, "Uh, I better stand."

"That's probably a good idea," she said slowly, "because after what happened against the door―"

He gave an awkward, end-of-his-rope laugh.

"Please. We can't go anywhere near talking about that or I'll..."

"Me too. Ok," MJ added, smirking at her boyfriend's exasperated expression, "sorry. I won't mention it."

They stared at each other and his body seemed to sway forward slightly. She perked up in response, straightening her back and tilting her chin up. Peter groaned and forcefully marched to a spot as far away as he could get while remaining opposite her to talk.

"I have good news," he blurted.

"That's great! Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Well, before we were... and before that we were, you know, texting..."

"Understood. Never mind. What's the news? What's up?"

"Progress," Peter began. He made an uncertain gesture with his hands, before he got his words rolling. "We figured out the footage was sent electronically. I mean, obviously, we always knew it'd been sent electronically, but now we know Beck did it himself. There was no one else on the bridge, besides me, until his body was retrieved."

"So, no loose end?"

"Right," he agreed, nodding rapidly.

"But, wait, isn't that potentially bad news? Like, you were definitely the last person to see him alive? That shit usually looks pretty damning, dork."

"But that's the thing," Peter insisted. He reached out his arms to emphasize his point and she wanted to jump into them, would in a minute if this really was good news once she'd examined it from every angle she could think of. (Sure, somebody else had probably already done that before getting Peter's hopes up, but an extra perspective was always a good thing. MJ didn't need superpowers or a billion dollars in the bank to be a valuable member of Team Peter.) "We can prove Beck was alive when I left him."

"How?"

"Karen! I didn't even know she did this, but I guess it's part of my suit's combat protocol that she, like, identify hostiles so she can do the best possible job of predicting my needs if I start fighting somebody."

"She identified Beck as a hostile?" MJ asked, checking that she was making the relevant deductions.

"Yeah, as soon as I fought through the drones and got in range of him. Karen tracked a ton of stuff―Beck's speed, the way he moved, and," Peter paused and she would've rolled her eyes at his dramatics if she wasn't so eager to hear him finish the sentence, "his vital signs."

"Oh my god. Oh my god, Peter."

MJ was up and off the bed, flinging herself forward into his arms just like she did on the day they'd been discussing. He hugged her tight. She felt the comforting weight of her black dahlia, hanging between them.

"This is it," she stated, kissing his cheek hard. When he didn't reply, she held his shoulders and sloped the upper half of her body away from him. "This is it, right?"

"Yeah," her boyfriend confirmed. "Yeah, it's all... This proves I didn't kill him." But he wasn't quite meeting her eye. MJ frowned and tilted her head until their gazes connected.

"Why aren't you excited?"

"Oh, Mr. Stark will probably take all the credit for clearing my name since he's the one who programmed―"

"Peter?"

He sighed and, gently, shifted his hands up from her hips so he could more loosely wrap his arms around her waist and hold her close. It worried her, but she folded her own arms around him and laid her head against his as she waited for whatever he'd tell her. When he did speak, it was soft and right by her ear. Like he could keep the words small and just between the two of them.

"It's proof, but if I use it, I officially confirm that I'm Spider-Man. We lose the option of playing that off as a random accusation, which wouldn't have been easy, but apparently, somebody's been working on that for me too, in case we wanted to go that route."

"You keep saying 'we'," MJ pointed out. "I'm grateful that you have so many people helping you, but..." Her arms tightened protectively around him. "...what do you want to happen?"

"It has to happen like this though," Peter said, voice almost whining with agitation.

She knew the tone, it was the sound of her boyfriend thinking he was trapped, that his choices weren't his own. It was bad enough when his enemies made him feel that way; she wasn't letting him feel pressured by his friends.

"I'm sure they could find another way to prove―"

"But not a better one," he said, stepping back from her slightly. "Not one this easy or, honestly, this true. Fury might be able to come up with some kind of crazy alibi for me or cause of death for Beck, but I don't wanna lie."

"I don't want you to have to lie either," MJ assured him. She felt for his hands and linked her fingers through his behind her back. "Is that what it comes down to? You lie about what happened and it protects your identity, or you tell the truth and everyone knows you're Spider-Man?"

"Pretty much."

She thought for a minute while his eyes seemed to rest on her face.

"They already think you're Spider-Man, and a killer."

"Yep."

"I don't know what kind of super-spy spin-doctoring Fury would do, but I'm an informed consumer of news media and a skeptic..."

"Right?" he encouraged, eyebrows lifting.

MJ held his eyes in a serious stare.

"If I didn't know you and suddenly you were all over my TV and the internet for being an Avenger and a murderer, I'd be incredibly suspicious if both of those announcements just dissolved into nothing. I don't think you can go from that kind of notoriety back to being Peter Parker. Someone will always wonder."

"And at first, a lot of people would probably wonder."

"Probably," she agreed.

"So, most likely, people would be more willing to accept that I was at least one of those things than neither of them."

"I really can't see you claiming to have killed Mysterio, but then, I don't see you holding a big press conference and being all 'I am Spider-Man' either."

"You mean like Tony did?"

MJ smirked in confirmation, but Peter deflated.

"M, what should I do?"

"Kiss me." That got him to smile. He didn't do what she'd suggested though. "I don't know what you should do," she said. "I'm not going to push you to confirm this big secret to the world if you aren't sure. However, I know that you're going to do the right thing."

"Which thing's the right thing again?"

"Whatever you end up doing, obviously. In the meantime, kiss me."

She thought he might spring forward to kiss her, quick and playful, so when he moved closer in a measured, deliberate way, it made her swallow and her breath come short. Barely brushing, Peter traced her nose with his, his gaze lowered to her mouth.

"I love you," he whispered. MJ could only nod in reply as his hands skated up her back, catching below her shoulder blades to press her near.

His mouth was light on hers at first, but she couldn't stand it. MJ took his face in both hands and sealed their lips together, feeling the slip and then the tug as Peter responded. She worked her mouth more roughly against his, getting teeth, getting a little tongue, until his plunged into her mouth and set her heart plummeting before it soared again. Panting, they broke apart, but MJ still held him, running her fingers down his cheeks to find his jaw. Their foreheads rested together and the words came.

"I love you too."

Author's Note:

Equal parts sexting and existential dread, just the way we like it!

Reality hits like a ton of bricks (ew, accidental near-rhyme) in next week's chapter. Luckily, MJ won't have to handle this latest minor disaster on her own.

To be continued...