mary jane "mj" watson (justhitjackpot) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2013-11-26 08:02:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, mary jane "mj" watson (616), peter parker / spider-man (616) |
Who: MJ & Peter (616)
When: November 25th; nighttime (so you know, last night)
Where: Peter & MJ’s bedroom
What: MJ plays nurse. Uh, and it’s not for sexy fun times. Like, she legit pays nurse.
Rating: Nothing that Disney hasn’t done worse.
This window. This window. Any other time, it was dead silent. Ninja silent. It never made noise before tonight. So, of course, that meant it was overdue. SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-- Peter flinched. Part of it was the fact that his shoulder ached from a distinctly un-fun swing home from Oscorp’s backyard. Part of it was that pitchy screech that stopped once he’d gotten the window to his and MJ’s bedroom open enough to shimmy through. He turned around, knowing he had to finish this. MJ wouldn’t appreciate the cold draft all night after all. --EEEEEEEEAK. Great. Awesome. And the award for least stealthy super hero goes to the wiry guy in the red and blue. Peter almost groaned in reply; he caught himself, and sent a glance over to MJ, who, at this point, was probably wide awake. Ironically, it wasn't the noise that woke MJ. It was the chilly air that blew through the room that did it. A shiver ran its way through her until she pulled the blankets tighter around her shoulders and then kicked her feet out a few times to gather more blankets up around her feet. By then, the second squeak had finished, and MJ's eyes flew open. "Hope you didn't think that was sneaky, tiger," MJ called out into the room. There was no one else it could be. She rolled over onto her back, in the direction of that particular window. "You're gonna have to warm me up again." “I…” It wasn’t that this hadn’t happened before. The whole climb-in-a-window-after-getting-beat-up thing had been a common theme the last time they had lived together. Nothing said romantic evening like having your girlfriend tend to the wound that you got getting zapped by Electro, after all. But that was years ago, now. Sure, MJ had patched him up enough times since they’d let things settle into friendship, but that wasn’t exactly the same thing. “I don’t know if you, uh… really want that right now. Maybe after a shower.” He looked down. A dislocated shoulder with his arm webbed to his side was only part one. A few cuts and scrapes had decided to bleed annoyingly down his side. Ugh, he could feel it all wet and cold. Talk about an off night for a guy who’d been doing this for half his life. “Or two,” Peter added, and MJ could probably hear the apology in his voice -- that audible little flinch in his tone. Sometimes Mary Jane thought she had a sixth sense when it came to Peter and injuries. The tone, the weak joke -- whatever it was -- MJ knew that feeling. She sat up quickly, tossing her legs over the side of the bed and wobbling over toward his shadow in the dark. There was a squeaky floorboard that MJ managed to just hit hard enough that it creaked loudly in the night. "Okay, what happened?" she asked on her way. "Are you okay?" A half snort escaped Peter at the floorboard chiming in. Just wake the whole house between the two of them. Why not? He shook his head though, shaking the laugh itself off as he spotted MJ closing up the gap. He had his hands -- well, hand out and ready to place on her shoulder once she was near enough. “Yeah, I’m fine. Still talking, still got jokes -- but… er… okay, so I poked around Oscorp and something around Oscorp started poking back.” She probably could see the makeshift sling. Peter wasn’t hiding it, and the moon was still bright outside and filtering into their bedroom. He turned his eyes down and offered a small frown. “Best part was me completely whumping myself into submission by trying to flip off a fence that gave out. One of those nights, y’know? Keeps me humble. Also, ow.” "Aww, honey. Come sit down. Let me look at you." She shuffled Peter toward the bed, intending to turn on the small light on the nightstand to see what she could do. At least they had their own bathroom. If worse came to worse, she could insist they retreat into a room better prepared. The air was worrisome, but at least she'd dealt with a dislocated shoulder fairly recently in their history. With the light on -- and dim as it is -- everything looked somehow simultaneously worse and better. The blood looked darker, thicker, but she couldn't really make out the bruising. There was no mistaking the way his shoulder was sitting though. Like something wasn't quite right. "Did you poke Oscorp back? Did you beat him into submission?" “Can we go back a moment? I just had this idea that I could have said city pigeons all dramatically,” Peter half mumbled, letting MJ march him along to perch on the bed. “Or maybe I should have gone for something else because ‘let me look at you’ isn’t a half bad pick-up line. Very direct. I like it,” he kept on going, using his good arm to give her a thumbs-up. Not that the motormouth tactic ever worked, though. Peter leaned back a little; the light was soft on Mary Jane, outlining her red hair and the night shirt that she’d taken from his drawer. It was impossible to not be grateful for her, but there were these little pocket moments where it was front and center. “Nah, didn’t see Osborn himself. Things were quiet after a group of us rustled his operations up, but I think he’s getting brave again.” "Peter. Shhh." MJ rolled her eyes dramatically, but there was the hint of a smile on her face. She tapped her finger softly against his lips. "I've got better lines than that, and you know it." From there, her hand tipped under his chin and tilted his head to the side so she could get a good enough look at his face and the wounds on it. The costume was, of course, torn in a few places -- which meant there would be a lot of mending -- and then gingerly, she took a hold of his shoulder, wiggling her fingers to find exactly how the bones were resting against one another. There was no way around it; this was going to hurt no matter what. "I need to get my kit. Will you be okay by yourself for two minutes?" “Mmmhmm,” Peter murmured back, keeping his lips pinned together from where MJ had placed her finger. It wasn’t like his injuries were so bad, and, even if he wasn’t in love with having his arm reset in its proper place, at least MJ accepted all of this. It helped. No panic, no berating, no lying to anyone about what he’d been up to. “Promise I won’t pass out on you. It’s probably looking worse than it is,” he added, prodding at his side, which was a damp splotch of deep red. “Good thing I don’t wear white. Yeesh.” Probably looking worse than it is. Well, those weren't words to cheer about, for sure. Meant that Peter was covering up just how bad he was hurting. A flicker of concern crossed her face before she hurried to the bathroom to grab the medical kit she'd been building since she moved in. Since she started dating Peter again, really. Scratch that, since she arrived. When returned, she was full of optimism and made sure to keep her worry hidden. MJ sat down on the bed. It was only temporary, but she needed to be close to the injured shoulder to fix it. She'd only done this bit once before, and then she'd only seen it on television. "I feel like I should give you a kiss because of what I'm about to do to you." Peter turned his head to its side, fixing MJ with a crooked smile. “That’s one of the better pick-up lines, isn’t it?” But he gave her a nod, clenching his jaw and bracing for what had to be done. Short of ramming his shoulder into a wall and hoping that somehow worked, this was pretty much his best choice, after all. “Maybe save the kiss for after. Kinda think I could use the distraction after.” "You got it, tiger." But she still leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek, even if it was dirty and bloody. MJ turned, her leg hoisted onto the bed to tuck her knee under his arm. After pruning away the webbing, she took a hold of his arm at the elbow, then entwined her other hand's fingers with his. "Try not to -- " Before she finished, she pulled his arm upwards, 90 degrees, and away from the socket to line it up as she tugged. "-- yell." Spider-Man or not, having been socked in the face by villains for years and years or not -- it hurt. It hurt. Peter sucked in a choppy breath, eyes clenching shut as tried to keep the joint loose, not that he stupidly recoiled and MJ went along for the ride. But he felt it realign, and he gingerly loosened his hand from hers to lower the arm again. “Good as new,” he remarked, carefully testing out a small pivot of the shoulder before letting it down. “You,” he furthered, sending MJ a wobbly sort of smile that came with relief and a more bearable, duller ache, “are my favorite person. Should put that on your resume next to acting skills. Two for two with popping shoulders back into sockets.” MJ brushed a hand through his cold, but sweaty hair. At least that was done with, even if she could still see the hurt from the injury on his face. At least this way, he'd be back to normal soon enough. She gave him another kiss on the forehead before she plopped a handful of painkillers into his palm and nodded at the nightstand where a glass of water had been set out. She'd never understand how he could take that many, but she didn't need to. If it made him feel better, then that's all she needed to know. "Now take off your shirt so I can see what you did to yourself." “And my favorite supplier,” was quiet through a laugh. Peter could feel a set of bruises along his ribs, and they pinched and burned enough to make him sober up a little. He leaned over to the glass and only took half of what he’d been given; sure enough he’d feel worse later and dig back in just to get some sleep before work tomorrow, but there was always that attempt to ease off and try to weather it. The glass was placed back down so he could hoist the top of his costume off, first over his good arm, then his head, then the other arm. A silent prayer was said in that moment that the wounds wouldn’t be so bad. Sometimes it was a bloody mess for a little scrape. He peered down at his exposed abdomen. Yep, scratches were plenty and there was that pre-bruise state of redness as an overall theme. Nothing deep, nothing horrible. For MJ’s sake, it was a relief. She wasn’t complaining over this, but he could tell she worried as much as she accepted this as the turf that came with their relationship. “Could probably get in the shower and clean up first?” "Yeah, none of these look bad enough to need stitches or anything." MJ was still inspecting him as she replied, relieved that he wasn't more seriously injured than the shoulder. It'd probably take a few days to feel normal to him, but at least it was better than the shoulder and stitches in his side. And knowing Peter, he'd get sick as a dog, and refuse to stay home through it all. She shifted, turning to allow him to pass by her into the bathroom for that shower. "I'll get you something to wear while you get cleaned up, then I'll disinfect those scrapes and get you some hot chocolate to warm you up. No coffee this late at night." “But --” Peter stopped, halfway into crouching down to shove himself off the bed. “Well, okay. Hot chocolate’s okay,” he finished, ignoring the strain of his muscles as he stood up. He stooped back down, though, pressing a kiss against MJ’s temple and whispering, “Thank you.” It was way short of the mark, but it was still something. The creaky floorboard wailed as he moved to the bathroom. At that, Peter could only half turn back to her, shrugging with one shoulder and sending a hapless grin. MJ let out a breathy laugh at that and stepped into her slippers. She wasn't going anywhere out of this room without something on her feet to keep her warm. It took a few minutes, but she got the water warmed up, the cocoa mixed in and even found a few marshmallows. In another month, she could drop a candy cane in the cup for him too. She smiled to herself; Christmas. With May. And Peter. Even though she was groggy from being awoken in the middle of the night, she couldn't help the huge grin on her face as she inched her way carefully back to their room. |