Title: I'll keep your memory
Prompt: 11 / "I almost lost you" kiss
Characters/Pairings: MJ/Peter
A/N: Spoilers for the No Way Home. You've been warned.
For Mage, a belated Valentine's! It's kinda fluffy and that's about all I can attribute to it. I like writing Peter rambling, it's ridiculously easy.
Summary: The first thing MJ did when she remembered was grab Peter's collar and drag him down for a kiss. The second thing, hit him. The third, plan so this would never happen again.
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The first thing MJ did when she remembered was grab Peter's collar and drag him down for a kiss. Their teeth clanked, noses bumped, and she almost fell backwards until he grabbed the coffee-shop counter to keep their balance. She had never cared for romance and all its trappings before she'd met Peter. Losing her memory had done little to change that and she felt awkward as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing him close.
Everything about her seemed gangly, like she was a still-growing teenager and not a first-year university student. Her skin was hot, her sight blurry, and she ignored Peter's muffled complaints as she kept him in place.
Eventually, though, her baser needs demanded attention and MJ pulled away to breathe. If she had any doubts on Peter's feelings, his flustered, red face told her that he was still the same boy she'd said goodbye to all those months ago.
"MJ," Peter mumbled breathlessly, his eyes bright. His arms caged her as he gripped the coffee counter tightly, keeping them from tumbling onto it. She was grateful he'd waited to break the magic until after she'd closed up the shop.
If her boss caught her like this, she'd be fired. Especially if her boss caught her next action.
The second thing MJ did was hit Peter.
"Ow!" Peter yelped, springing back and rubbing his head. He stared at her balefully. "What was that for?"
MJ glared at him. Marching forward, she grabbed one of his hands, keeping it tightly secure in her own so he couldn't runaway or disappear from her memories again. "You can't be serious," she growled.
Peter flinched, though he didn't recoil. His hand lay limp in her own. "Oh. Right. Uh. I guess I deserve this."
She narrowed her eyes. "You guess."
He averted his gaze and hung his head. For a spider-man, he looked and behaved more like a puppy. "Bad choice of words. I'm sorry." He squeezed her hand, his head bowing even more. "I'm really sorry, MJ."
Fury welled within her, though MJ couldn't pinpoint the source. She was just angry. At Peter. Even more than the stupid magician or the egomaniacal villains or even that obsessive journalist, she was angry at Peter. Jabbing her free finger at his chest, she bit out, "You promised you'd come for us."
And he had broken that promise.
It bothered her more than she understood.
Peter jerked his head up. Desperately, he refuted, "I did! I came!"
Vaguely, MJ remembered getting her acceptance letter, remembered serving coffee to the most awkward boy in existence. She remembered the strange sense of emptiness when he'd left, a gnawing feeling that she hadn't been able to erase till now. Her glare grew more pronounced. "You know that's not what I meant."
"I…" Peter fidgeted, unable to deny it. "I just…"
She tightened her grip on his hand. "You just what?"
Peter ran a hand though his hair. His shoulders hunched and he looked more and more like the boy she'd known in school and not the hero he'd become. "Everything's really dangerous and you didn't remember me and…what was I supposed to say? 'Hi, I'm your friend, but you don't remember me because I kinda don't exist anymore. Also, your life is in danger if we meet.'?"
"Yes!" MJ jabbed his chest again, in the exact same spot. "You could have said all of that."
"You would have looked at me like I was crazy!" Peter disagreed weakly, shaking his head. "You'd have called the cops or something."
"That's a me problem. You should have still tried," MJ snapped, frustration boiling over. She was a cynic. She always had been. It was better to be prepared for the worst than hope for the best, and yet something about Peter made her want to believe. And for a second, as she'd slipped unconscious, she had believed.
The one time she'd hoped she was wrong, she had been right.
Her sight grew blurry but she refused to wipe her tears. "You should have tried."
"I—shit, MJ, are you crying?" Peter panicked, his hand reaching for her face automatically. His thumb brushed a tear before he dropped his hand and started patting his pocket for a tissue. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry MJ, I was wrong." He apologized like it was a mantra, his movements growing more frantic by the second. Giving up on the tissue, he nervously wiped her eyes with his sleeve. "I won't do it again. Please don't cry. I'm really, really sorry."
"Don't," she mumbled. Beneath the welling sadness was the flickers of anger. His apologies just made it worse.
"Oh." He dropped his hand again. "Sorry."
"That's not what I want to hear!" MJ gritted her teeth. Then again, what could he say when she didn't even know what she wanted from him? Her emotions were a mess. If it was just the abandonment issues, she could handle it.
No, what was worse was the strange sense of guilt growing within her. She had spent her days missing him, even if she hadn't realized it. And it would be one thing if she had felt that constantly, but she hadn't. She'd gone to work, gone to class, hung out with Ned and watched movies, as though it had all been normal. She'd done her homework, watched superheroes on the news, and if she'd ever felt anything was missing in her life, it was just a small feeling every now and then. Only when she saw something ridiculous or did something cool, only when she wanted to share and picked up her phone but didn't know who she wanted to text.
And that was just her. Had anyone else sensed someone was missing? Happy didn't recognize him, Ned didn't remember him—Peter's aunt had died, his entire existence gone, and he'd had no one to turn to. No one to grieve with. No one to comfort him.
He'd spent the last few months alone.
If it hadn't been for another bout of magic, would she have died without knowing? If Peter had died fighting, would no one know who the boy behind the mask was?
It frustrated her. It angered her.
Above all, it scared her. This could happen again. MJ trembled at the realization. It could happen again.
"MJ?" Peter asked hesitantly, noticing her silence. Lightly, he tapped her shoulder. "Are you feeling sick? Is it the magic? Maybe there's an after—"
She jerked her head up, interrupting his panicked ramble. Without her noticing, his hand had slipped out of hers and it left her feeling adrift. MJ grabbed both of his hands, grounding herself in reality once more. "You're a fucking idiot," she stated softly.
"Huh?" He stiffened at the unexpected response.
Now that she had a grip on everything, she felt calm. This was just another problem. She was really good at solving problems. "You're never doing this again," she ordered.
Surprised, Peter shook his head. "Never." He paused. "I mean…"
"What?" She clenched his hands tighter. Maybe she should get him one of those child leashes.
"It's…I mean, I didn't expect this to happen the first time either and…" Peter smiled weakly. Unable to withdraw, he looked everywhere but her. "It's just, you know, a lot of things happen and the universe is at stake and I don't really know what I'm doing so I mess up and—"
"Ok, Ok, I got it," MJ cut him off, a headache forming. They lived in a world that defied physics and the dead came to life. There were few guarantees. "If you ever do this again, you will come to me. You will make me remember." Fiercely, she commanded, "Swear it."
Now he looked at her. She couldn't read his expression. He nodded. "I swear."
"Good." That wouldn't be enough. MJ was a cynic and she'd discovered once again just how the worst could happen. She couldn't trust him. She knew better. When she got home, she'd have to put together a backup plan. Maybe get some evidence in her notebook and her computer and even a safe. Could magic remove a tattoo of his name?
But that was for later. For now, she let the relief sink into her bones.
"Good," she repeated, letting of his hands and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She pulled him close and gently rested her forehead against his. Closing her eyes, MJ breathed him in, listening to his own shallow breaths, his pounding heart. The anger hadn't left. Even now, she didn't know where to put it or even what to call it.
But this was a start.