.
.
Peter doesn't wanna be here.
Nope.
Horses freak him out. They're not like cats.
(Peter likes cats. He understands cat behavior, and horses don't make any sense to him. They are gigantic and they kick.)
One of the riding instructors leads out a horse with a piece of rope. It's got a shiny pale coat with brown spots. When the horse tosses its head, softly snorting, Peter lurches backwards as far as possible. Nope, nope. Nope nope nope.
He bumps into MJ standing right behind him and putting a hand on Peter's shoulder.
"They can smell fear," she whispers into Peter's ear, probably smirking.
Peter whines.
Mr. Harrington clears his throat, appearing out of nowhere from the direction of the nearby Port-A-Potty, and everybody else takes that as a sign to wander towards the fenced-off area. "Peter, it's just a horse," he insists. "You're not in any danger."
"I know, I know! I know!" Peter mumbles, rubbing the sides of his face. "It's just… it's really big."
Flash laughs, poking his head into the conversation.
"My cousin's sister heard about a guy who got his skull crushed while falling off his horse. It kicked him on the way down."
Peter's color completely drains. His eyes widen.
"You know what story I heard about, Mr. Thompson?" Mr. Harrington announces, narrowing his eyes behind his glasses. "You being in afternoon detention tomorrow when we return to Midtown. I'm afraid this story, however, has some basis to it."
Flash's mean-spirited expression drops.
He scuttles off.
Mr. Harrington turns back to a visibly horrorstruck Peter, clapping his back. "Listen, Peter, you'll be fine. Getting nervous while trying something new is completely natural," he says, then hesitating. "Remember to fall anywhere but on your skull, okay?"
"I'll… I'll get right on that, Mr. Harrington."
Peter slumps, trudging begrudgingly after everyone else. Ned waves him over towards the grassy field, clipping on one of the riding helmets under his chin. "Dude, you know you could have just faked sick and got out of this, right?" Ned points out.
"Why didn't you, Ned?"
"I tried!"
Peter groans. "Aunt May knows I don't get sick. I'm screwed."
"Honestly, if you were this freaked about horse—" Ned cuts himself off, peering at his best friend staring curiously at MJ off on her own. She crouches in the dirt, examining a rock between her skinny, brown fingers. It's not a particularly interesting rock; after another minute or two, MJ tosses it aside. "—of course," Ned says with a long, knowing sigh, shaking his head.
Peter's dopey grin fades when the other boy marches away.
"Hey, that rhymed!"
.
.
Mr. Harrington (unhelpfully) quizzes his students about classical mechanics between the riding instructor's very important safety talk. Peter understands they're on this field trip to "apply the laws of motion" into something supposedly tremendously fun.
He's dreading what they mean by the fun part.
Flash yells out something with a smile, motioning to the grassy field. Some of Peter's classmates look around. "Hey, you!" the riding instructor demands, taking off his cowboy hat to gesture angrily with it. "You there! Stay in the riding ring! No galloping!"
Peter's jaw drops.
Not far, MJ rides her own horse through the dandelions, leaning forward from her saddle and her knees tensing. It's graceful. She slows, half-circling when Mr. Harrington shouts MJ's full name, tightening her reins and making an amused 'oops' face.
Ned whistles as if impressed.
"Damn."
"Yeah, she's…" Peter breathes, his heart racing wildly like her gallop.
Dread immediately fills him.
"We're not gonna learn that, are we?"
.
.
These jeans are way too tight. Peter uncomfortably shifts.
(Aunt May shrank them last week, by accident. She told Peter to wear them for horseback riding since Google said so.)
"Now throw your leg over Juniper, Peter," Mr. Harrington encourages him, giving out a hand to help Peter up on his saddle if he needs it. Two of the instructors, one holding Juniper's reins impatiently and the other supervising the teenagers, roll their eyes.
"Can I skip this part…?"
"This is an important life lesson about overcoming your fears. Take a deep breath."
Mr. Harrington exaggerates his inhale, and Peter finds himself doing the same. The worst part is not knowing if all of these goosebumps are his spider-sense warning Peter to not get on the horse, or Peter's own anxiety.
Peter hitches himself up on a stirrup like he was instructed, lifting up and awkwardly throwing his leg over.
Shit.
Oh, shit.
Juniper whinnies, panicking.
Peter yelps loudly, also panicking, flailing and clinging onto the top of the saddle. "No! No! Stop!" Logic flies out of Peter's brain as she charges from the adults, heading for the walled-off area of the riding ring. A chorus of screams echo out.
That's when Peter hears more galloping.
MJ flies to his side, reaching out and snatching onto the reins flapping uselessly. She yanks, teeth gritting, easing Juniper's head to turn and making them all circle and slow before almost hitting the wall. Peter hears more screams, but relieved.
He shakily dismounts, with MJ holding onto his upper arm to keep him upright. Her dark eyes concerned.
"You okay?"
"… I mighta peed myself," Peter says faintly.
At this, MJ wrinkles her nose. Her laugh is raspy-soft, and the prettiest thing ever, and Peter always wants to hear it.
.
.
They drape Peter in a shock blanket, or rather it's a dusty wool blanket that smells like hay. Very itchy on Peter's skin.
He's told to remain sitting down, given a bag of plain potato chips and a juice box. Peter doesn't touch either, but thanks them. His body is fine. He's Spider-Man. MJ volunteers to sit with him instead of their school chaperone while Mr. Harrington makes a call to the principal.
Peter hangs his head, humiliated.
"Can I get some?" MJ nods to the apple juice, and Peter blink up at her owlishly. Before he can answer, she pops in the straw.
"… How did you know horseback riding?"
MJ sips noisily, taking her time to enjoy the cool juice. "We used to visit my uncle and his wife a lot when I was a kid," she says, wiping off her mouth with the back of her hand. "He owned horses and took me riding. After he died, we stopped visiting."
Uncle.
Peter's heart clenches.
"I'm sorry, MJ."
"It was a long time ago. No worries." MJ finally gazes over him, her lips softening apart. "C'mon. Let's get out of here."
Peter frowns. "But—"
"I said come on, Peter Parker." She grasps Peter's wrist, rising to her feet and looking satisfied when Peter follows. "Where did you get those jeans, by the way?" MJ murmurs. "Your butt looks nice—not that I was looking at your butt. That would be weird."
Peter goes flustered and flushed, stammering.
"I-I, uh…"
"You still haven't thank me for saving you, you know," she adds, tilting up an eyebrow wryly. Peter feels like he's short-circuiting with MJ's warm fingers cradling his. "If you try to kiss me though… I will probably have to knock you on your nice butt."
"Uh…" Peter scrambles for the juice box, like a peace offering. He smiles sheepishly. "Do… uh, do you want the rest of this?"
MJ eyes him, unable to keep down her own smile.
"Yeah, sure."
She accepts it, walking off towards the grassy dandelion field with Peter's hand in hers.
Peter wants to be here.
As long as it's somewhere with MJ.
.
.