Michelle wished she'd kissed Peter when she'd had the chance yesterday. Unfortunately, she'd waited too long and the moment grew awkward. After that, they'd found the kitchen together. Peter told her about his restriction to only soft foods and Michelle steered him away from Wong's forbidden pudding cups. Instead, she'd cooked him a can of soup pilfered from the cabinet.
Now Michelle stood in front of the Sanctum Sanctorum. She clutched a container of the best chicken noodle soup from the Jewish deli down the street. She'd called out sick from work, much to the chagrin of her boss, but she needed to see Peter again. With a deep breath, she knocked on the large door.
No answer.
She knocked again. And again, louder this time.
Finally, it opened for her with an ominous creak. Master Strange stood before her. "Why is there so much knocking on this door lately? And where the hell are all the acolytes?" he complained. Then his eyes landed on her. "Oh, it's you."
"Hello, sir," she greeted him, attempting to keep the nervousness out of her voice. "I'm here to see Peter. I brought him soup." She held up the container.
"Good. He's eaten just about everything in the kitchen, and I've had to listen to Wong bitching about his lost pudding cups. I'm sending him home today."
"Already?" Peter hadn't looked quite well enough to be alone when she'd seen him yesterday.
"Kid's a fast healer. Probably accounts for that appetite. Anyway, he won't tell me where he's living. I know I'm not exactly the friendliest guy."
Michelle snorted. "What? You?" She felt a little guilty at the involuntary sarcasm injected in her words.
Strange rolled his eyes. "Can it. The kid likes you so I'm sending you home with him, whether he likes it or not. Then I need you to let me know if it's as bad as I think." Strange paused. "I think Peter is very alone."
Sadness welled up inside Michelle to hear Strange's suspicions. She thought about Peter coming into the donut shop, how he seemed to savor their interactions even through his awkwardness. Could that small amount of socialization be all he had?
"Okay, I'm in," Michelle told him.
"Good." Strange lead her through the maze of hallways to Peter's room. He knocked on the door. "You got a visitor, kid."
The door flung open to reveal Peter. Wearing jeans and a red shirt, he smiled brightly when he saw her. He stood up straight now, no longer hunched. All the color had come back into his face and the bruising around his eye could barely be seen. If Michelle hadn't seen him yesterday, she wouldn't have known he'd almost died two days earlier.
"MJ, hi!"
She smiled back at him.
"MJ brought you soup," Strange informed him.
Michelle held up the container again.
Peter licked his lips. "Thank you! I'm starving." He took the container, pulled off the lid and drank half the contents in one gulp. "That's delicious!"
Michelle giggled.
Strange shook his head. "I know it takes a lot of calories to heal but I've got to get you out if here before you start eating the walls."
"Yes, sir. I'm feeling much better after my...accident. Thank you so much for everything." Peter turned to Michelle. "Thanks again for the soup. I promise I'll be back to see you at the donut shop very soon."
"Oh, no, Peter. MJ's taking you home."
"What?!" Peter balked. "You really don't need to do that. I'm okay now," he told her, an edge of panic in his voice.
Michelle wondered if he lived in some kind of secret lair.
"It's her or me taking you home," Strange gave him an ultimatum. The wizard's piercing eyes did not leave room for argument.
"Her," Peter said quickly, then half-smiled, half-grimaced at her.
Peter didn't really have anything to pack up except a backpack. As Michelle got her coat on, she saw Strange slip him some money. Peter tried to refuse it but Strange wouldn't take no for an answer. The wizard wasn't the kind of guy to argue with.
On the subway, they sat in awkward silence for a few minutes. This antsy feeling made her need to talk to him so she blurted out the first thing that came into her head. "Have you seen the new Star Wars show?"
He shook his head. "I don't own a TV."
Michelle wanted to facepalm. Of course Spider-Man had better things to do than watch TV! "Sorry," she mumbled.
"Actually, I really would like to watch it. I used to watch stuff like that with my friends, but..." He shook his head as if that line of thinking hurt. "Maybe you could tell me about it?" He looked at her with such longing that it made her stomach flip over.
"Okay." She launched into the story. He listened intently, even when she went off into tangents and had to backtrack to plot points she forgot. He prompted her to keep going even as he guided her off the subway, down three blocks in a pretty suspicious neighborhood and then finally finishing in front of a crumbling, old brick building.
Peter cleared his throat nervously as he fished a set of keys out of his pocket. He unlocked the front door. The lobby just inside might have been nice once but it had fallen into disrepair. Half the bulbs were busted, giving it a dark, shadowy feel. Cracked tiles littered the floor and cobwebs floated heavy in the corners.
"I should grab my mail."
As he pulled out too much junk mail from one of the rusted metal boxes, an elderly woman in slippers shuffled into the room.
"Hello, Peter," she said in a raspy voice that spoke of too many cigarettes in her lifetime.
"Hello, Mrs. G," Peter greeted her as he fumbled to close the little door with all the mail in his hand.
"Are you still working at the hardware store?"
Michelle filed that bit of information away in her head.
"I think so," Peter answered.
The old woman's cloudy eyes turned to Michelle, appraising her. "Glad to see Peter has at least one friend. I was worried he didn't have anyone."
"Don't worry, I'm going to fix that," Michelle told her as she put her hand on Peter's shoulder.
Peter blushed. "Well, nice seeing you, Mrs. G." He led Michelle to the stairs.
She waved to them as she shuffled to the mailboxes. "Toodalo, kids!"
As Michelle crossed the threshold into his third-floor, walk-up apartment, she worked hard to hold back tears. She took in the lack of furniture, the threadbare blanket as the only covering on his bed and the lack of most typical creature comforts.
Spider-Man lived in a slum. She never really thought about it before, but he didn't get paid for laying his life on the line to save others. Unlike rich Iron Man or godly Thor or scientist Bruce Banner, Spider-Man had no money or support system backing him up. He truly was alone. The realization made her want to burst out crying but she stayed strong for him.
"I know, it's pretty bad," he said, as if reading her mind. "It's just temporary, until I can get back on my feet. Hoping to get into college with some financial aid."
Michelle nodded, not trusting herself to speak yet.
Misinterpreting her silence for disgust, he said, "Um, thanks for bringing me home. You really do don't have to hang out or anything. I'm sure you've got stuff to do."
"Nope, I don't really have anything else I have to do." She took a step closer to him, not wanting to let another opportunity slip by again. Reaching out, she gently took his hand.
His eyes widened and he visibly gulped. "MJ..."
Before she lost her nerve, she stepped right into his space and pressed her lips against his.
His entire body tensed up, his lips frozen against hers. She almost broke the kiss, thinking he would back away from her, but then he relaxed. His lips softened and pressed back into her's as his free hand came up to cradle her head.
Bolts of electricity shot through Michelle's body as their lips moved against each other. They created such a delicious friction. The tip of her tongue licked at him, and he opened his mouth to allow her entry. Their tongues danced together inside.
With her senses turned up high, a deep part of her became aware again of the deja vu surrounding Peter. She'd kissed him like this before. She couldn't remember when or the circumstances surrounding that previous kiss, but her heart knew this wasn't their first time. She'd been craving to kiss him like this again, but hadn't fully realized it until now.
She didn't want to stop. She wrapped her arm around his waist and pulled her body flush against his.
He gasped against her mouth, their lips parting for a moment.
She giggled, drunk on love.
He smiled broadly. Fire flared in his eyes as he gazed at her.
Their lips met again. For a long while, they thought of nothing else but each other.
