Peter fired another web as he continued his trip home. Ever since he and M.J. got married a few months prior, Peter had tried not to stay out quite so late on patrols as he used to. Tonight, however, it couldn't be helped. He had run across one of his least favorite enemies to deal with a few hours prior: Tombstone. In that time, Peter had engaged with the near invulnerable drug lord in a brutal fight in order to bust up the man's latest operation. He supposed he should consider himself lucky for only coming away with a few bruises, compared to previous encounters between them that ended with broken bones and concussions. However, what he lacked in broken things, he more than made up for in sheer exhaustion.
This was likely only enhanced by the fact that Peter had been working with his best friend since grade school, on a start up they had had in mind for years. Over the past several months, they had been working on ideas for a line of various technologies that would make living with disabilities easier. However, constant set backs, lack of idea progress and constant Spider-Man interruptions, the two of them were worn very thin. Earlier that day, after working 70+ hours a week for what felt like forever, the two had come to an agreement to take the upcoming week off, spend time with their families, and hopefully come back recharged and ready to go the following Monday.
Honestly, who Peter was going to was all that kept him from just collapsing on the side of a building and falling asleep then and there: Michelle Jones-Parker. He and M.J. had only been married for a few months so far, but it had been the best few months of his life. He hated that work and Spider-Man had taken him away from her so much, and it didn't help that when they were out and about, the media wanted to get any shots they could of Spider-Man and his wife out and about (thanks again Mysterio). Thankfully, M.J. was not one to want to go out much in the first place, so most of the time, the young couple had simply stayed home and enjoyed each other's company. A nice weekend of exactly that was just what Peter needed right now anyway.
Finally arriving at their apartment, Peter opened the window to their bedroom, but was surprised to not find M.J. already in bed. It wasn't a huge surprise that she was likely still awake, despite the fact that the clock read 3:13 A.M. Even during their high school days, she had frequently mentioned staying up late reading or watching a murder documentary, sometimes going to school on as little as an hour of sleep. Peter never understood how she managed, but it didn't hurt that the habit carried over into married life, as she was always awake when he got home, though usually sitting up against the bed rest.
Taking off his mask and discarding it near the closet, Peter walked out of the bedroom towards the living room. His spider-sense wasn't going off, so there was not likely to be any danger, which helped to put his mind at ease somewhat. He rounded the corner of the small hallway to find the living room empty, but a few steps more brought the kitchen into view, and that's where he found her, standing in the middle of it, holding a glass of water. However, his enhanced vision could tell even in the dark that she was clutching her stomach, which was never a good indicator.
"Hey Em," Peter said, greeting her with the affectionate nickname he had only started using since they were married. M.J. pretended to hate it at first, but it wasn't long before her smile became more obvious when he said it. "You okay?" he added, putting a gloved hand to her shoulder.
"I think so," M.J. replied, but she wasn't doing a very good job of hiding the grimace that kept coming on her face. "I think that pizza we had earlier isn't settling well though."
"You want to sit down on the couch for a moment?" he asked.
"No, I just need a..." M.J. doubled over before she could finish her reply, Peter grabbing hold of her on both sides now. She turned and looked at him, a mix of fight and pain in her eyes.
"Get me to the bathroom," she growled through the obvious pain in her stomach. Maintaining his gentle but firm hold on her sides, Peter guided her to their bathroom just down the hall, and as soon as they came over the toilet, M.J. doubled over, gripping the edge of the seat as she proceeded to unload a great deal of the contents of her stomach into it. Peter did his best to help in any small way he could, holding her hair out of the way with one hand and gently rubbing her back with the other. These gestures felt minuscule compared to how his wife was clearly suffering, and every new hurl pained him to witness more than the last one.
Finally, after several minutes, M.J. leaned back and sat down on the floor.
"Let me take your temperature real quick," Peter said, getting up and opening the cabinet in the bathroom where they kept the thermometer. He held it in front of her forehead, and it beeped back a number. "It's 101.3, so you have a fever, but not too bad of one," he said. "You want to go to the hospital?"
M.J. slowly shook her head; for as long as Peter could remember, she had hated hospitals. The situation wasn't made any easier by the fact they neither of them made a lot of money right now, between him working the start up and her working as a basement level reporter. However, both of them were usually healthy; Peter hadn't gotten sick since the day he had gained his powers, and M.J.'s vegetarian diet combined with her finally starting to exercise some helped to keep hospital visits to a minimum.
"Just...just help me up," M.J. said weakly. "I just need to get to bed."
"Uh no, I'm carrying you," he said. "You don't need to be exerting yourself right now, even a little."
"Peter..." she grumbled, but he wasn't having it, cradling her gently into his arms and scooping her off the floor. If she had been stronger, she probably would've put up more of a fight after that, but instead, Peter looked on as she simply closed her eyes and leaned her face into his shoulder. He walked into the bedroom, gently laying her down on the bed, tucking her in gently.
"I'm going to take a quick shower, then I'll be back," Peter said, putting on a smile for her even though her eyes were barely open to see it. "You need anything else before I do?"
M.J. just shook her head in response. Peter quickly grabbed his nightwear, hurried to the bathroom, showered and changed, then finally came back to the bedroom. M.J. appeared to be asleep, but he put a hand gently on her forehead to check on her fever. It didn't feel any warmer than it was earlier, so there was no cause for alarm. Making a mental note to not expect too much sleep that night, Peter got into bed and laid down, his last sight being of his wife as his eyes shut.
Peter's eyes opened slowly, seeing that his wife had hardly moved, despite having to get up a couple more times during the night. He slowly reached over to grab his phone off the table next to the bed, seeing that it was already 11:23 A.M. The last time they had had to get up was a little after 6, so at least they had gotten some rest.
Peter sat up, setting his feet on the floor of the bedroom. He thought back to his wife's ordeal last night, reflecting on how unusual it was for her to get sick. Since they had started dating almost 8 years ago, M.J. had gotten sick maybe twice. She was always careful about what she ate, constantly reading up on the latest and greatest vegetarian diets in order to keep her immune system in optimal condition, so what could've...
His phone buzzed, shaking him from his thoughts. He punched in the code to unlock it, seeing a news notification once he did. As soon as he saw the title, it apparently explained everything:
"Romaine Lettuce Recalled In NYC Area Due To E. Coli Infections."
Of course. In addition to pizza, the two of them had ate out at Qdoba a few days ago, and M.J. often had them pile on extra lettuce whenever they were there. No wonder she was having such a visceral reaction all of a sudden. While Peter's superhuman system had protected him, M.J.'s likely got ravaged.
It was at this time that his wife finally began to stir.
"Hey," Peter said, turning to her. "How are you feeling?"
"A little better," she said after a moment. Peter placed his hand on her forehead.
"You still feel pretty warm," Peter said. "Also, I was just reading about an E. Coli issue in the area, so I think we found the problem."
"Well," M.J. said, "at least both of us had already taken the next week off from work, since we both know we couldn't afford to do call in."
"Yeah," Peter replied. "You need anything?"
"Peter, you don't have to wait on me hand and foot," she said, shooting him a stern look.
"I thought that was my job as your husband anyway?" Peter teased.
"Well...I wouldn't say no to some water," she said. Taking that as his cue, Peter hurriedly went to the kitchen, bringing back a full glass of water and handing it to her.
"We need to make sure you drink plenty of that, as well as plenty of rest, so that means I got anything around the house," Peter said.
"Peter, I'm sick, not immobilized," M.J. said, trying to sit up but ultimately just laying back down. His wife was tenacious, but it seemed they had found one of the rare things in the world that could keep her down.
"Yeah, I can see that," Peter teased, before his tone turned more serious again. "Look, you don't have much in you, literally, after last night, so you need to rest until you can eat more and regather your strength."
"Fine," M.J. grumbled.
"Em," Peter said, sitting down on the bed next to her.
"I know it's usually you that gives this speech, but I just feel so guilty," she said. "We had planned to actually have some rare time to enjoy ourselves this week, and now we'll likely be spending the rest of the week with me in bed unable to do anything."
Peter brushed some of her brown curls out of her face, smiling down at her as he carefully thought through how to respond. He hated to see her going through this, and he understood how she felt. After all, he often returned home injured, some instances more severely than others, which always seemed to ruin the time the two of them had in his mind. However, she would always tell him that it didn't matter what they were doing, but that she still had him in her life in that moment. Underneath the tough, tenacious woman that the world saw, Peter could see a kind, compassionate but still steel willed person, with the biggest heart imaginable, underneath it all.
"You know what you would say to me if our positions were reversed?" Peter asked.
M.J. let out a small smile. "It doesn't matter what we're doing," she said.
"As long as, right now, we're in each other's lives," he finished. "The same is true right now. Look, let's just focus on getting you better, and go from there."
"Okay," she replied. Peter bent down, offering a gentle, reassuring kiss on her forehead.
Most of that week consisted of making sure M.J. drank water and resting as the two of them laid in bed a lot of the week. They watched a lot of M.J.'s favorite shows or movies, such as "I Survived," "Criminal Minds," and "Mulan." Peter had initially said he wouldn't got on patrol, saying she was his top priority, but M.J. wouldn't have it, insisting that he not neglect the city on her behalf. She finally convinced him, and he did a brief patrol each day, doing a quick once over of the city and quickly handling what little he came across. M.J's throwing up gradually got less and less as she started to be able to eat more and more, going from apple sauce and bananas to slightly more hardy foods. By Wednesday, she was finally moving around the apartment some, and was basically back to normal by Friday.
"Well, this wasn't how I expected the week to go," Peter said, reflecting back on things as they sat together on the couch in the living room, watching a documentary on the infamous Black Dahlia murder that spurred M.J.'s love for the flower, and thus the necklace that Peter had gifted her.
"No, but it was definitely memorable," his wife replied. "After all, I probably set the world record for puking, so we might want to call Guinness and make sure that goes on the record."
"You WOULD look at it that way," Peter said. He didn't even have to be looking at her for her words to elicit a smile from his lips at her comment.
"Seriously though, thank you," she replied.
"For what?" he said, turning towards her.
"For, you know, doing the whole 'in sickness and in health thing,' despite the fact that we technically left that out when we did our own vows," she said, looking up at him.
"I'm pretty sure that stuff is implied no matter what," Peter replied, looking back to the documentary. "Besides, what kind of a husband would I be if I just left my wife to deal with something like that on her own?"
"One that actually listens to her when she says she's fine," M.J. replied dryly. Peter turned to her, giving her a skeptical look.
"Are you complaining?" he said half-teasingly.
His wife smiled a bright smile at him. "Absolutely not," she said before pulling him into a deep kiss.
Now, one where the shoe is on the other foot and M.J. is the one sick!
Continuing to pray for you all! Stay safe and healthy!
"So they are no longer two, but one flesh." Matthew 19:1-6