Re: log, marvel: pizza party at harry's
[Peter. The relief was plain on MJ's face, as expressive as it was, and the smile that followed after the peak of eyebrows was flooded with it, dazzling as it was. She stooped to set the pizza on the nearest flat surface, and shunned the smoothness, that weak wave. MJ could play it cool, but she wasn't going to do that now. She was so happy to see Peter—to see he looked the same, to see he acted like the same ol' Peter Parker, cute in a nerdy way, with his hoodie and his plain jeans.] Tiger—[She grinned her paparazzi grin (or what would be her paparazzi grin, one day,) and hurried to him on boots that squeaked across spotless marble floors.
She threw her arms around her friend. Because, no matter what Peter Parker he was, he was her friend. MJ squeezed, clinging hard, and moving to dip her fingers in the fringes of his brown hair at the nape of his neck.—He even smelled like her Peter. Or maybe that was the mingling scent of pizza.
Whatever.
She pulled back, but her smile went gobsmacked at the yellow and purple bruising on the boy's face. She touched his chin to turn his face, so she could look.] Yikes! [She sucked in air through her teeth, all sympathy, fingertips soft on his face.] Who got your lunch money this time, Parker?