Author's Note:

This chapter puts Boyfri(endgame) over 50,000 words. Woo!

XVIII

MJ'd always kept the number of supplies she carried with her to the hospital low―just a sketchpad, a pencil, a sharpener. Sometimes a pen, but she'd smeared more than one drawing with the side of her hand by accident, so a pencil was preferable. One that was resistant to breakage, with graphite that wasn't too soft; she didn't want the point wearing down right away or any pen-like smudges. The thing with kids was that they liked colour. MJ had never been trying to produce a masterpiece every time she did a cartoonish portrait of one of the young patients, but she had considered them finished after handing them off to the child or their parent or guardian.

Today, a six-year-old informed her that the drawing wasn't complete. And proceeded to upend a plastic cup full of pencil crayons. Now, MJ was helping the girl fill it in like they were doing some kind of colouring book. Some of the parents and nurses found her a little unapproachable and sullen, she could tell. If they saw her like this, her reputation would be shot forever. Still, she traded the blue pencil crayon in her hand for a green one when the kid wanted to swap and she smiled the whole time, except when the two of them were being Very Serious Artists. The little girl had decided she was playing as Van Gogh after MJ conversationally mentioned his swirling skies and that charming anecdote about his ear. Oops. Sorry, parents. But hey, she figured, the kid was already in the hospital. If she was tough enough for that, she was tough enough for a colourful (no pun intended) art history lesson.

Nevertheless, MJ dodged the parents without making eye contact when she stepped out of the two-bed, semi-private hospital room to answer her phone. She'd checked the screen before leaving and seen Brad's name. (And rolled her eyes.) It was strange though, for him to be calling her, since they'd only texted before, and not much since he'd shown her around the Daily Bugle―it was possible that she'd been giving him short, discouraging answers on purpose―so curiosity won and MJ decided to pick up.

"What's up?" she asked, hoping he wasn't expecting any kind of apology for how she'd basically ignored him after using him to get to the Bugle's files (not that he knew about that or would ever find out).

"Hey, MJ," Brad said. His voice was hushed and rushed, making her frown as she leaned against the wall in the hallway. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"You are, but it's fine."

What? That was just honesty. Really, he should've valued that in their acquaintanceship.

"Oh, sorry, well, I saw your picture."

An innocent sentence, but she tensed immediately. There were so many possible meanings. A picture of her? A picture she'd drawn? Oh fuck, the Night Pad?! No, that was impossible. Still, she proceeded cautiously.

"What do you mean?"

"Someone, someone here, at the Bugle, took a photo of you. Two days ago."

Ok, that didn't mean anything to MJ… unless some asshole from school had snitched about her being Spider-Man's former girlfriend. If the paper was having a slow enough news day―meaning their 'Avenger Turned Cold-Blooded Killer' angle was wearing thin―they might have decided to branch out into probing into the lives of his friends and family. 'Known associates' was what they called them in the crime stories she'd lost her taste for since this started.

"On purpose? Why would they do that?"

"I didn't know at first, I was just walking past somebody's desk and looked down and saw this picture of you! But I asked and they said it was taken in front of Spider-Man's, I mean, Peter's apartment building."

"So, I was just walking past…?" She trailed off hopefully.

"You were going in. It was a series of shots. You clearly approach the building, open the door, and enter."

"Ah."

Shit. Now was a great time to come up with an excuse. Oddly, Brad didn't ask. Maybe he was working up to flirting with her and didn't want her to mention she'd been secretly continuing the relationship she was supposed to have ended over a month ago. If so, that was really fucking sleazy of him. Or, he just didn't give a shit about Peter (probable) and had no interest in anything involving him, including the apartment building. She had thought it had been weeks since the press had given up on finding Peter there. They'd been able to slip into the building early on. Videos had circulated online of reporters on the low end of the integrity scale banging on the Parkers' front door and receiving no answer. It had seemed like the news outlets had given it up as abandoned. All of them except the Bugle, apparently.

"I guess the guy here has been photographing everybody going in and out, day and night. I wouldn't have thought they'd have the resources to dedicate to that kind of a stakeout, but the paper's doing pretty well these days. Bunch of new interns."

"Destroying lives is good for business," MJ snarked. She widened her eyes, gripping her phone as she remembered this was not one of the people she could reasonably defend Peter to. A nurse passed her in the hallway and MJ gave a strained smile. "That's what capitalism's about, right?" she covered.

"Right." His I'm trying way too hard right now, can you tell? laugh was reassuring, as was the confirmation that the Bugle wasn't watching her specifically, just the building. "Were you visiting Peter?"

The question came out of nowhere. It was a valid one, one a reporter would definitely have asked her at the time if the newspaper had dispatched one alongside their photographer, but she felt thrown. She'd thought they were speaking as friends―that word seemed like an appropriate compromise between how she felt about their dynamic (neutral, with moments of despising him) and how she pessimistically assumed he did (having a crush on her).

"No."

It made MJ feel good, strong, to both protect Peter's whereabouts and give an honest response. It was the kind of thing he would've done, she thought.

"Sorry," Brad laughed. "Of course you weren't. Had to ask."

"You wouldn't happen to know what they're doing with the pictures, would you?"

"Well, I messed up a little."

I will tear your head from your neck and your neck from your shoulders, she thought, gritting her teeth as she braced for the worst. She tried to keep her voice level through the tension.

"How so?"

"The guy whose desk the shots were sitting on noticed me staring at them, so I had to say something."

"And that something was…?"

"I said you were my girlfriend. To cover for you," Brad hastily explained. MJ knocked the back of her head against the wall. "I know it was unfeminist of me to handle it that way, trying to come to your rescue."

"And to assume your credibility would carry more weight than mine," she pointed out.

"You weren't there to explain."

"They could've called me."

"You think so? You think they called Peter and said, 'Hey, we're thinking about outing you as Spider-Man, but if you deny it, we'll let the whole thing go'?" She refused to respond to that. Brad sighed loudly in evident frustration. "Listen, if they're not giving that courtesy to an Avenger, they're not going to give it to some girl in a random photo. I mean, not that you're just some gir―"

"Did it work? You… covering for me?" MJ said. She needed to cut him off. If she had to hear Brad tell her she wasn't 'just some girl,' she would puke in this hallway and feel terrible about it. Not about forcing Brad to overhear her puking, but because someone would be called to clean it up.

"Yeah. Yeah," he repeated, laughing in what sounded like disbelief. "They actually listened to me, listened to an intern. Probably the first time in recorded history, huh?"

"Seriously," she agreed.

She would give Brad this small validation in exchange for not fucking up. He hadn't exactly saved her ass, but he could've told everyone she was connected to Spider-Man, and he hadn't. This situation, with him, was something she had to deal with very carefully. She had to play nice. But… he'd told people she was his girlfriend. She wasn't prepared to play quite that nice. A silence grew between them and MJ knew how to fill it.

"I know it's super last-minute, but do you want to hang out today?"

"MJ, yes." She kept her groan internal. "I'm done at two. Burgers?"

"Burgers," she agreed. Burgers with a side of setting Brad straight about her not being his girlfriend.

MJ called Cindy to see if she was still willing and free to accompany her to the very-much-not-a-date with Brad that afternoon. She was. Apparently, that was the benefit of working for your parent for the summer: you could leave for things like 'friendship emergencies,' which was how Cindy told MJ she'd explained her hasty exit. On the phone, they discussed meeting up with Brad at 2:30―a stupid time to eat, as far as MJ was concerned, but she was not calling him back and making this a dinner thing. Dinner screamed date, so she was putting a metaphorical pillow over dinner's face and smothering it. It would be an intentionally awkward in-between time with Cindy there to be their intentionally awkward third wheel.

Cindy met MJ near the fast food place she and Brad had agreed on. They'd walk over together and have a little time to talk beforehand.

"Can I trash-talk him?" Cindy wondered as they stood in the shade against the side of a building. MJ rolled her eyes.

"Not to his face."

"Well that's no fun. I guess the next thing you're going to tell me is that subtle threats are off the table too."

"We have to be nice to Brad," MJ insisted, though she could hear the lack of enthusiasm in her own voice.

"Hey, it's technically nice if the threat is so subtle he doesn't pick up on it."

"Quit looking for loopholes. Brad might be..."

"Definitely," Cindy agreed before MJ could select an appropriate adjective.

"But he's still smart. He'll know you're threatening him or insulting him or whatever the half-baked plan is at this point."

"There's time to get it fully baked before we go over there," her friend said, perking up. "I love a tight deadline."

MJ looked at her. Cindy sighed.

"I'll be as nice as precedent dictates." It was a careful concession, so MJ narrowed her eyes.

"Precedent, as set by me," she instructed. "And I plan on being nice."

"Yeah, but is that gonna be, like, your MJ nice? Because you know you aren't the friendliest person."

They stared at each other―MJ's expression unimpressed and Cindy's eyes widening until she burst into laughter.

"I'm going to be the normal amount of nice that I would be to Brad at decathlon, without taking his potential crush into account," she clarified. "I need Brad to not hate me or want to get back at me for rejecting him."

"So, that means seducing him to gain his compliance is also off the table." MJ full-on glared at her and Cindy held up her palms. "Gotcha. Just checking."

"I think you and―" MJ lowered her voice. "―Romanoff would get along."

"Hey, whenever you wanna make that introduction, I'm there."

MJ opened her mouth to reply, but mentioning the spy had made her think of something. The other night. Peter's apartment. Romanoff raising her binoculars to look through the window. The stupid Bugle photographer must have been who she'd seen! And of course he would've seemed like a potential threat―lurking around Peter's building at night with a camera, probably at least partially hidden. Man, that idiot was lucky Romanoff had handled the situation defensively instead of offensively.

"What is it?" Cindy checked. "Time to meet Brad the Bad? Breaking Brad? Bradley―"

"Yeah, let's go. And please, no nicknames."

Cindy pouted, but consented, "Fine. But only because you specifically asked."

"That doesn't mean anything I didn't specifically ask for is ok." Her friend shrugged lightly. "No loopholes," MJ restated, and led the way to burgers and Brad.

The burgers couldn't have cared less about their entrance, but MJ witnessed Brad's expression rise and fall when he spotted her and then Cindy right behind. She hoped her face showed the mild interest of greeting rather than, 'yeah, that's right, Brad, I brought backup.' More than that, MJ hoped Cindy was proud of her for asking for help and not going in alone. Although, her friend had given her that advice in the context of dangerous situations. Brad wasn't one of those. He was just an annoying situation that required delicate treatment, like when a favourite pen rolled under the fridge and she had to summon a fucking legion of patience to fish it out again.

"Hey, man," she greeted when she and Cindy wound their way over to where he was rising from a chair.

She couldn't think of anything less romantic without veering into the realm of insults, which she had to avoid―on top of the established reasons to be nice―so that she didn't open the door for Cindy to verbally tear Brad a new one.

"Hey, MJ. Cindy." Brad directed his grinning mouth and disappointed eyes at each of them in turn. "I, uh, got this table," he said, gesturing at the narrow surface and pair of chairs beside him, "but I guess there isn't enough room for all three of us…"

"That's ok," Cindy chimed in before he could passive-aggressively uninvite her from his hangout with MJ. "We're here at kind of an off time. It's not that busy. How 'bout over there?"

She was already leading the way. Brad gave an awkward laugh and waved a hand for MJ to go ahead of him. She gave him a tight smile and turned her back on him as she followed Cindy, trying not to feel weirded out by Brad's presence behind her. At least he wasn't attempting to escort her with a hand on her lower back or anything like that.

Cindy shot her a look, then darted her gaze back to the line of stools at the booth that looked out on the sidewalk. She was clearly asking if MJ wanted her to position herself between her and Brad, really push this buffer thing as far as it would go. It was tempting, but MJ needed to be able to actually talk to him and if they didn't get this worked out today, she might have to see him again and the next time, she might not have Cindy. She jerked her head subtly and Cindy sat at the end, leaving the middle for MJ.

They took a few minutes to all gather their bearings, talking about summer vacation plans, work… anything but the massive Spider-Man questions hanging over the city: had he killed a man and where was he now?

"We should order," MJ decided for the three of them when it felt like the small talk was gasping for a break.

There was a brief negotiation of who should get up and who should save their seats, but Cindy determined it definitively when MJ and Brad rose, lifting and stretching her leg, then smacking it down across their two vacated stools. She beamed at them, sandaled foot wagging back and forth on Brad's stool.

"Go on. Chicken burger and fries, please," she requested of MJ.

"Drink?"

"Nah." Cindy unzipped her purse, but MJ shook her head.

She leaned in so Brad couldn't hear her and whispered, "You're doing me a favour here, remember?"

"If you're paying, maybe I do want a drink."

"Tough," MJ quipped, this time motioning for Brad to go ahead of her towards the counter.

"Fine, then get an extra straw because I'm having a sip of yours!"

Without looking back, MJ flipped her friend off, smiling to herself.

In line, Brad took another shot at behaving gentlemanly, trying to get her to order first. MJ held firm and thought more about having to find a way to confront him over the girlfriend thing in a few minutes instead of the overhead menu her eyes were unseeingly scanning. Brad remained quiet, standing off to the side, while she ordered for Cindy and herself. (Thank fuck he hadn't pulled something really uncomfortable, like trying to pay.) She got a double-cheeseburger and onion rings; they were the kind of side item that put guys off. Except Peter. Peter always bought her onion rings because he knew she loved them. Once, when his late-night Spidey shift had run him ragged and he stopped by her place instead of going straight home, he still showed up with a carton of onion rings he'd gotten for her on the way. No man could compete. MJ was pretty sure she was going to be with Peter forever, whenever forever showed up (sooner or later didn't matter―she was confident there was a right time on its way).

"Hey," Brad began when they were both waiting for their food, oversized cups of soda in hand, "I kinda thought today was gonna be―"

"Oh, well, yeah, I've barely seen Cindy this summer―" 'Barely' was a relative term and therefore not a lie, MJ told herself. "―so, I thought this could be like a mini decathlon reunion."

She gave him another closed-lipped smile like, yes, it's me, the first person who comes to mind when you ask yourself, 'Who lives to plan reunions?'

"Great idea," Brad commended her and, ouch, MJ could see the effort that was costing him. She shrugged in response and grabbed the tray of her and Cindy's food as soon as it was set down. Brad's had already arrived and he seemed reluctant as he picked it up and allowed their alone time to be abruptly concluded.

MJ was happy to walk ahead of him this time, anxious to return to her backup; Cindy slipped her foot off the stool and let both legs dangle as they approached. MJ gave her friend a gentle tug on her long ponytail to say hi again―also, to reassure herself of Cindy's supportive presence.

As the noises of unwrapping burgers were dying down, the supportive presence spoke, words startlingly blunt: "So, you told somebody MJ's your girlfriend?"

MJ gave her friend a castigating stare before whipping her head the other way to look at Brad. He'd paused with a French fry approaching his lips. He closed his mouth, swallowed nervously, then opened again and tossed the fry in like he was giving himself time to think while he chewed. MJ glanced at Cindy from the corner of her eye. She had her elbow on the ledge next to her chicken burger and was using it to brace herself as she leaned in Brad's direction (never mind MJ sitting between them) like she was playing Bad Cop and he was the suspect she was going to crack like an egg.

"I was trying to help," he finally said.

The fact that Brad had told someone MJ was his girlfriend was as much of the story as she'd related to Cindy before they met up with him. Her friend didn't know the whole thing yet―the pictures, the stakeout, the excuse for being inside Peter's building that MJ hadn't yet concocted―because MJ had assumed they'd be easing into this. Should've known better.

"Help who exactly?" Cindy probed, taking an aggressive bite of her burger after speaking.

Her words were heavy with the implication that Brad had said it to help himself. MJ happened to agree with that theory, but... why did their plan have to go out the window so quickly? Cindy might not have been insulting Brad, but she was interrogating him. That was clearly being hostile, not friendly!

Brad swung his gaze to MJ.

"How much of this story does she know?" he asked.

"Not as much as―"

"Hey," Cindy interrupted, snapping her fingers to regain Brad's attention, "'she' knows enough."

"This is not what we discussed," MJ hissed back at her. She was surprisingly glad when Brad put an end to Cindy's cross-examination.

"I didn't think MJ would want the pictures of her getting out," he told Cindy.

"What pictures? Who took pictures of her? You?"

Brad looked exasperated and turned to his food for solace. MJ swiveled to face her friend, absently gesturing with an onion ring in one hand.

"Some photographer Brad works with―"

"I don't really work with him," Brad clarified. "I'm just an int―"

"Can it," Cindy instructed, then smiled at MJ. "Continue."

"This photographer took pictures of me going into the building where Peter used to live and might've put them in the paper, so Brad tried to solve the problem―"

"I did solve the problem," he argued.

"―by saying I was his..." She clenched her teeth. "...girlfriend. So they wouldn't suspect me of, I don't know, being in cahoots with an accused murderer," MJ concluded with sludgy sarcasm.

Cindy laughed, then took a long sip of MJ's drink with the spare straw she'd brought her.

"What, you guys think MJ's, like, meeting up with Spider-Man to make secret murder plans?"

"I don't think it," Brad explained. He obviously didn't understand that it was too late to attempt to extricate himself from the villainous hive presence of the Bugle.

"She's just watching their apartment!" Cindy went on.

MJ closed her eyes and thought, Fuck.

"What?" Brad asked, setting his burger aside.

Peeking over at her friend, MJ watched Cindy realize she'd said too much. She'd gotten carried away by the superiority of knowing more than Brad, flaunting her knowledge. Her greatest strength on the decathlon team had just become, in MJ's extremely biased opinion, her greatest weakness during what was supposed to be a friendly chat.

"Peter and I aren't together," MJ blurted as she turned to Brad. "It's just that his aunt and I always got along, so when they went... somewhere, she left me a key, so I could, uh, keep an eye on her place."

Brad narrowed his eyes.

"You and Peter..."

"Broke up," she assured him. "We definitely broke up. Weeks ago."

"Not that she's ready to date anyone else yet," Cindy piped up. MJ glanced at her and her friend offered a wink, apparently congratulating herself for covering for her. That had kinda become the secondary issue now though.

"But you're keeping an eye on his apartment?"

"Well, the apartment belongs to his aunt," MJ said, "and yeah, I'm... vacuuming. And stuff."

'And stuff' meaning crawling morosely between Peter's empty sheets and making daring escapes with her pal, the Black Widow.

"You're vacuuming Spider-Man's apartment?" Brad asked in a harsh whisper, getting it half-correct. "You know how bad that would look if anybody found out?"

"They're not going to find out though, are they, Brad?" MJ checked. She met his stare with her own.

This was the tipping point; if he cared about her―as a person, not a prospective girlfriend―he'd drop this whole thing. If he didn't, this would be the moment that blackmail entered the conversation. If he did this for her, what would she do for him? Going that route seemed unlikely, with Cindy there as a witness (god, she was playing a lot of roles today, many of them straight from a cast of true crime characters), but Brad did hold something big over her. They were all intelligent enough to understand that.

Thankfully, Brad looked immediately offended. (Cindy was probably loving that, but MJ couldn't look away from Brad to check.)

"Of course not. I don't want to get you in trouble, or put you in danger. Oh my god, MJ," he said as she watched the potential consequences unfurl behind his eyes. "I definitely don't want you to be in danger after you already distanced yourself from Peter. For that very reason, am I right?"

Fuck you, Brad, MJ thought as she nodded slowly. This guy was so not getting a chair on the team next year.

"Right," he agreed, more with himself than her. Distractedly, he took a few more bites of his burger. MJ ate her onion rings, Cindy clattered the ice around in their soda―both of them waiting, it seemed to MJ, for the other shoe to drop. "I only want to protect you."

There was that fucking shoe.

Before MJ could do or say anything, Cindy slung an arm around her shoulders and smiled at Brad.

"Got it covered," she assured him. "I was born ready to protect my best friend from the assholes at the Daily Bugle."

"Yourself excluded from that group," MJ added after her friend had emphasized the exact opposite.

"Thanks," Brad said warily.

Cindy sighed loudly and removed her arm, returning to her food. MJ and Brad started eating again as well.

"Life was simpler before we all had jobs," Cindy stated.

MJ almost laughed at the idea of employment being the thing that had turned everything upside down that summer. Maybe that was what would've happened if Quentin Beck hadn't been a megalomaniac, and J. Jonah Jameson wasn't an immoral spaz, and Peter wasn't enhanced, and MJ hadn't fallen hard and fast in love with him. She couldn't change any of those things―some of them she definitely didn't want to change―but she understood her boyfriend's struggle between clearing his name as Spider-Man and having a life of his own as Peter. It'd really be something for him to be just another teenager with a summer job. In a parallel universe, maybe that dork's compulsion to save people was being put to use as a community pool lifeguard. MJ finished her onion rings, silently wishing the imaginary Other Peter all the best with his enviably uncomplicated life.

Author's Note:

I dunno about you, but I stan the hell outta loose-cannon, BadCop!Cindy.

Peter's back in the next chapter as he and MJ find new ways to be intimate over the phone... *eyebrow waggle*

To be continued...