WHO: MJ Watson, Peter Parker 616 WHEN: Monday 7/6 - (Forward dating so that people know what happens in the morning!) WHERE: Mess Hall for all to see (and then not so mess hall) WHAT: Peter's been missing in the middle of a hurricane for days. MJ is impulsive. WARNINGS:
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Peter and Flash were still missing. The prospect of another day worrying about them didn't sit well with Mary Jane. Her mind flashed to all sorts of horribleness. The venom symbiote getting out of hand and eating Peter. The venom symbiote jumping to Peter, and Peter eating Flash. Doctor Octopus showing up in the pod they went out to retrieve and body swapping with Peter again. And those weren't even the normal problems with hurricanes. Drowning. Tornados. Struck by lightning. Somehow she doubted that'd send him back to the future.
MJ's bowl of strawberries, blueberries, and yogurt was left uneaten. She occasionally flipped the spoon, a ribbon of yogurt twirling like delicate pasta before it vanished back into the mixture. She did this over and over again, wishing she hadn't gotten out of bed just yet. At least under the blankets, she didn't have to pretend that everything was okay, that she wasn't worried sick. She didn't have to give lip service to Gwen or Ben that everything would be okay. Peter was strong, Peter could do anything.
(He was, he could.)
But sometimes things were just out of your control. There was another werewolf out there, hell bent on killing entire villages of people. On turning over people into werewolves, creating his own little werewolf army. What were the odds that wouldn't come back to bite them in the ass? (With all the Parkers around? High.)
Fifteen minutes into breakfast, MJ decided to head back to her housing assignment for a bit before she'd bury herself in work in the hopes that she could forget about all this. Her eyes were drawn toward the large opening that could be considered a doorway.
The thing about Parker Luck was that it worked both ways. Sometimes it dumped you on your rear in some back alley, but other times? It put you right where you needed to be. No warning. No grand plan unfurled so you could at least take a shower before it went to work. Sometimes it just pushed all the pieces right into place with a small, but significant click.
Peter dragged himself alongside Flash into the underground shelter that was Mount Weather. Days stranded outside had left them both a little worse for the wear, but not that he couldn’t set his feet towards the mess hall. They’d told enough people that there were supplies to sort out, and there was a hazy recollection that breakfast was happening. It seemed like an idea. Grab something, bring it back to his room… pass out for a few hours. Whether or not Flash had followed was a blur at this point, but, honestly, the guy earned his solitude at this point.
He slapped a hand over his eyes and rubbed at them for a moment. The dimness of the shelter was making it hard on his daylight-accustomed eyes, and heading deeper into Mount Weather only made that more apparent. Somewhere around here, though, was the mess hall. The sound of dispersed conversations was getting closer, becoming more distinct than just a general murmur. He lowered his hand, and blearily squinted through the main entry.
It was hard to be enthusiastic about anything, except the incoming notifications from outside. With the radar going down for an extended period of time, it had been a blank slate of nothing and more nothing. No news, save "more rain." With heavy feet (and a heavy heart), MJ stood up, prepared to head back.
The beard. The beard was what caught her attention first. It wasn't the first time she'd seen one on Peter's face, it just wasn't usually on Peter's face. It was on Ben's. Or Kaine's. It somehow seemed new and strange, like she hadn't just seen it a few days ago. As if it could sprout a life of its own —
Peter.
Peter!
The heaviness melted away, disappeared into some nebulous other place, and it was like the sun had literally come out inside the bowels of Mount Weather. Everything seemed to be in sparkling color, and she knew — knew — why. There was only one thing to do.
Her feet automatically broke out into a run across the length of the Mess Hall. She didn't mean to push anyone, but it happened if someone got in her way. It had always been like this whenever Peter had disappeared for an evening. If she couldn't get a hold of him, if she didn't see him on TV, if there was no contact. MJ had spent so many nights unable to sleep, tossing and turning, and panicking that something that gone wrong. Something terrible had happened. But there he was — a little dirty, a little worse for the wear — but in one piece.
Five feet away, she launched herself right at him, colliding with him (and likely blocking several people from getting to or out of their seats) and kissing the living daylights out of him.
Oblivious was often a word that applied to Peter Parker. He could miss a woman’s advance from a mile away at times, and, even more literally, he could miss a redhead running straight at him if he happened to be mentally adrift in fog not unlike the kind spreading out over the landscape above. It was the ping of his Spider Sense that snapped him alert, just in time to catch a flash of red in the corner of his eye. His reflexes took care of the rest, bracing for whatever impact was coming.
Arms were flung out as a net, and without really grasping what was happening, Peter found that someone had fallen right into them. Wait --
Red hair. He narrowed his eyes, trying to force them to focus, but by then came the touch at his lips. It was demanding, like someone hadn’t seen him in ages or like maybe they were in an airport’s terminal, and his plane was leaving any moment. It was… familiar. And that was where the shock fizzled out. She’d caught him unawares, but in that moment that it snapped into place came a wash of relief. His arms folded down around Mary Jane Watson, and his thoughts about everything else were thousands of miles away.
She'd known it then, years ago in that airport. She'd known it when he'd proposed (even the first time, that was why she'd been so scared). She'd known it even after he'd failed to show up for their wedding. She'd even told him when they were all hidden in Avengers Tower, trying to keep hidden from Doctor Octopus. She'd told him that she knew she loved him down to her soul.
(Though now that she thought about it, was that Peter? Or Doc Ock?)
After a few intense instants, MJ needed to come up for air, even if it was only for a moment. She only needed to pull away a minute distance, her forehead leaning against Peter's, her arms still wrapped around him tightly. MJ wasn't the type to wait for someone else to say something, except those few moments when she was insecure with Peter. This was not one of those times. Had he pushed her away, stopped her, asked her what she was doing — that would have put a stopper on it. Instead, she melted into a smile that was half flushed, half relieved as she whispered, "The beard… It's gotta go, tiger."
This wasn’t the welcome committee he’d been counting on. Actually, it was about fifty times better. He was standing there in all his wilderness-affected glory, still damp from the rain, smelling like wet leaves -- by rights he should’ve been chased right off to rediscover his civilized and hygienic side. Instead, MJ was smiling up at him, her hold unwavering. He should really find someone to go take care of the supply, but his focus was locked down on the current moment. She always could make the entire rest of the world fade out; if anyone was staring, Peter had no awareness of it.
He broke out into a laugh. Of all the things to start the conversation with... “I hate it,” he blurted out in return. “I’m not even -- I mean, with the rain and the wind. It doesn’t help. It just itches. And never mind the bugs. No, I’m leaving it to Thor from now on. I bet he never -- is Thor in here? I can’t tell. Did I ever tell you I like your smile? It’s --”
Nope. MJ silenced him with another kiss, despite her misgivings about the beard. It could have been worse, honestly. It could be the stubble from hell. Her fingers eagerly latched onto the hair at the nape of his neck. Maybe that would stop the babbling. For now, anyway. MJ was fine with people witnessing the kiss, but the talking… The talking they had to save for later, when it was just the two of them.
"Shh," she whispered when she broke the kiss once more. "You're doing that thing with your mouth where you say everything that comes into your head. It's cute, but it's getting in the way."
“I --” Peter snuck a side glance at the interior space of the mess hall. A few people were looking, though he quickly turned back to MJ. “It was a long few days,” he admitted, his mouth tipping upward into a frown, though his eyes were still carrying a grin.
There was a second’s consideration, then he slipped back, just enough to clasp her hand within one of his own. He towed MJ along with him, backward several steps into the hallway just out of view. “This is happening?” he asked, voice quiet. Everything was saying yes, but it never hurt to check which page they were both on. After all, there was still an Ollie somewhere out there. MJ was capable of making her own choices, but that didn’t erase anyone else from the picture.
There. That set off the insecure bells inside MJ's head. She frowned slightly, brows furrowing. Her back straightened in that way when she was trying to be formal, or professional, or anything but relaxed. Still, she ducked her head to catch Peter's eye, locking her gaze with his. She hoped that she could tell what he was thinking, the way she used to, but maybe it had been too long. Maybe she'd messed up whatever chance they'd had when she cut him out of her life. (She couldn't blame him.)
"I flew right over that line, didn't I?" she exhaled through her mouth and cringed with half her face. "I crossed it, and didn't even think about asking you." Because of course, he would be waiting for her. What arrogance, Mary Jane Watson.
His brows lifted, a small moment of passing panic crossing his face. At first it was worry that she was reconsidering, but then as she started trying to backtrack, Peter cut in. “Hey, no. No -- MJ, I just… the whole only-friends thing. I just had to know. That’s all. I just…”
His expression softened. It wasn’t the same punchy explosion of fireworks and emotions as earlier, but theirs had always been a steady burn of emotions once they’d started going out. That flame for MJ never flickered out. He closed up the distance once more, encircling her with his arms and hoping she didn’t mind that he wasn’t at his most pressed and pristine. Leaning into the embrace, he couldn’t only think of one thing he needed to say. “I love you. I missed you, and I love you.”
MJ melted in a way she hadn't in a long time. It felt like coming home after a long day, and finding that your boyfriend had set up a romantic evening for the two of you -- even if that included pizza and a folding table. There wasn't any logic, because MJ knew this wasn't logical. Peter was in her soul, and no matter how much time or distance she put between them, he would always be there.
She folded her arms around him, leaving no space between them, as she held onto him tightly. Scary wasn't quite the word she was looking for, but it was daunting diving back into things with Peter. She'd been enjoying the lack of intensity with Ollie, but deep down, she knew there was a Peter-shaped hole.
"It's always you, Peter. It's always been you." She laughed a little. "Probably always will be, no matter what happens."
He closed his eyes. Even after days caught out in the elements with Flash, he still had enough strength to hold on to MJ. There was always that little more just for her, and, when she was reaching back…
When she was holding him back, it was impossible to consider anything but feeling her warmth beneath his fingertips and against his cheek. She was real and whole, and he’d been waiting for this -- geez, probably since the day they’d called it off. It had never been that easy. MJ was right. It was only ever her, no matter who else entered the picture or what happened.
“‘M sorry. I’m soggy, and I smell. We should try this again. Y’know, when I shed my winter coat,” he mumbled, cheek against her temple. “Should definitely do it all over again,” he repeated, unable to help a wide smile.
MJ let out a chuckle, but took a few more seconds before she extracted herself. With a crooked grin, she leaned in and gave him one more lingering kiss —
Then abruptly stopped. Deadpan, she sighed. "Shower. Shave. Smooches. Sounds like a plan?"
Almost snapping out of a daydream, Peter blinked at the open space in front of him, trying to discern what had happened before his attention clicked back into place. “Wha? Oh, yeah. Yeah, sounds like a plan.” He looked down the hallway, then back to MJ with slightly narrowed eyes. “You mean right now, right? Right this moment?”
"I'm assuming that you haven't slept." MJ herself had spent the last few nights tossing and turning, and it hadn't been kind to her. Back home, there would have been a regime of creams and treatments she could get to reduce the bags and puffiness under her eyes. Here, she had to just go to bed earlier and hope that genetics took care of the rest. She was honestly surprised she'd made it out of bed at all this morning.
It was her turn to slip her fingers through his and give his hand a gentle tug in the direction of the residences. "So come on, Mr. P. Let's go get you cleaned up and sleep together."
Had he slept? There had been bouts of unconsciousness, Peter was sure, when Flash was awake to make sure they weren’t in any immediate danger. It had been trading posts out of necessity while the weather howled just outside their temporary shelter, but exhaustion… yeah, that couldn’t be far off. He’d probably keep moving until his body gave out completely, in classic Parker fashion.
MJ was already guiding him as he mulled over the past few days that lead up to here. There was a dim awareness that she’d given him a rather on-the-nose directive, but he was more lost in a daze, letting the corridor waste away as he held onto her hand. Finally, though, he managed to drift just above the pleasant thoughts, right as they approached the entryway to the residences. She must have been worried. No word thanks to the walkie-talkie not being able to find a clear channel, and no sign of them for days -- that reunion just minutes earlier had been partial appreciation that he was even alive. Ironically, it was exactly that reason that had made her choose to walk away months ago. The realization prompted a small squeeze of her hand; he’d meant it when he’d yelled at Otto Octavius from the afterlife that she was his soulmate.
Outside the door, MJ reluctantly let go of Peter's hand. He was going to need that to open the door to his housing unit. Just because she had to let go didn't mean she had to do nothing. She turned into him while she let him fumble for his keycard. He was still wet and definitely needed a hot shower and about five pounds of soap, but MJ's fingers flexed as tried to contain herself. It felt like so long since she'd been able to touch him, and the last time she had, it hadn't even been Peter
"Please don't tell me that you forgot your key."
Peter looked up for a second, brows lifted in amusement. "Don't worry -- my aunt thinks I'm at Ben’s house, and my curfew isn't until seven. Even if we lose a few minutes, I can hop a few fences and be home before they even knew we snuck out." He flashed her a wide grin, but managed to pull out the key from one pocket. It was dewy and corroded, but it did just the trick. The door was open in no time.
"Hey, John?" Peter called inside. It was never easy to tell if the resident demonologist was inside without waking straight in, and potentially into an active spell. The hurricane was enough, Peter felt. Best not take a chance here.
"You think he'll be here?" MJ tilted her head, glancing inside. Ben lived here too, along with someone else. She wasn't even sure who that someone else was. It didn't seem that important at the time, but now… That might be something she'd have to figure out. Not now though. They wouldn't be in Peter's sleeping quarters; she didn't care right now.
When there was no reply in the form of a spell or cursing Englishman, MJ reached out and goosed Peter, just enough to force him to give a little jump and hop away inside the room.
No John meant the coast was clear, and considering MJ was trying to speed things up… Peter didn’t feel like he needed to argue. The door was closed behind them, which gave him a window of opportunity to seek a small bit of revenge. “I think we’ve got a good ten minutes before someone come wandering in,” he started, giving her a suspicious side glance before crouching without warning and hoisting MJ up in both arms. It was a short walk towards his bedroom through the central living area, where he gently tipped her onto the bed. His bones might be aching through and through, but this outcome was just enough to put a zing back into his step.
“Now, you’re sure this has gotta go?” he asked, a general wave towards the lower half of his face. “Definitely sure? No takesies-backsies.”
MJ curled up on her side and smiled warmly. Wherever this was headed, she was more than happy to obliged. Truthfully, she didn't care about the beard. It wasn't her favorite look on Peter, but it was still a better look than on most people. She pretended to think about it, narrowing her eyes in concern while she eyeballed that beard.
"I think…" Tilt of her head one way, as if that would give her a whole new perspective. "...yeah, tiger. It's gotta go."
“If that’s what the lady wants…”
He took a look around. The room hadn’t changed in the last few days. Everything was exactly where he’d left it, which meant the towel was still in the small bathroom just outside his room -- as well the neglected shaving razor. Hopefully no one had used up all the soap, either. “Gimme a few, okay? Gonna wash this musk off, see if there’s still a human underneath all of it,” Peter started. He loosened the damp shirt and threw it to the floor to deal with later. God knows the thing needed to be washed twice after all the muck it had seen.
As soon as he disappeared, MJ blindly reached up for a pillow. The relief of Peter's whereabouts had sucked all the adrenaline out of their meeting, and after a few minutes, she found herself jerking her head up try and stay awake. At least until Peter came back from the bathroom. Time was in that state of flux, however, when you were so tired that you couldn't quite tell how long it had actually been. What felt like only seconds turned out to be ten minutes and vice versa. It wasn't long before her neck grew so weary she had to just lay it down on the pillow for just a moment.
“You don’t even wanna know what --” Peter stopped himself once he’d reached the doorway, noticing MJ curled up and halfway off to a distant, more peaceful state. He slipped in silently, exchanging the towel for what passed as pyjama pants in Mount Weather, and giving a wayward look towards Constantine’s bed. It wasn’t going to be as easy as picking up where they’d last left off, Peter knew, but, for now, that thought was placed on a shelf. He sat down on the edge of the bed and craned over fix the blanket so she was covered.
The sound of Peter's voice felt far away and yet right there, like a fog you couldn't quite see through but the hazy shadow was in front of you. MJ stretched out and when her hand struck his leg, her eyes blinked open with a start. When she saw that baby face though, she smiled the dopey half smile and pushed herself up to her elbows. "There's the Peter Parker I know and love. I knew he was buried under there somewhere."
Her smile sparked his own, though he rounded his shoulders into a small shrug. “Never been this okay with losing a bet before, just so you know. No more fashion tips from Chuck Norris, I promise.” He swung his legs up, hooking his arms around his knees to keep himself upright. The pull of exhaustion was really setting in now. He just needed a few hours -- maybe 20 -- to black out.
A nod was given towards her, though he kept his mellow grin fixed in place. “If you’re staying, I’m gonna need part of that pillow.”
"I'm staying." If you're staying implied he was all right with her staying, no need to ask. MJ lifted her head from the pillow and yanked it out from under her to toss at Peter's hip. She'd just use him for a pillow once he laid down. Her hand patted the bed beside her as she scooted over just a bit to let him have more room. The other hand rubbed her tired eyes. It was amazing how quickly you could go from Wound Up to Exhausted over something like Relief.
"'me're."
It was such a simple reply, but its measure extended way beyond those three syllables. Her choice was made, her mind made up. All Peter had to do was slide into bed next to her and rest for god’s sake. He hadn’t had much of that for days, and his body was on the cusp of giving out right that second.
Still, he shuffled the pillow into place and claimed the open half of the bed without a second thought. “As the lady wishes.” Everything else could wait, he told himself, as his head hit the soft plush of the pillow. His arm slipped under MJ to find a comfortable position, and it was only a few more seconds before his eyes closed and the world slipped away.