mary jane "mj" watson (justhitjackpot) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2014-09-05 21:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, mary jane "mj" watson (616), peter parker / spider-man (616) |
Who: Peter & MJ (616)
When: 9/2/14
Where: Their loft apartment
What: MJ is feeling Peter-deprived and clingy. Peter gets clinged. Surprise! You have super powers, darling!
Rating: For these two? PG.
At least familiarity was setting in. Or maybe it was just the familiarity of the things they’d unpacked and set up in the apartment that was doing it. Either way, life in the apartment nestled over Parker’s had started to feel closer to normal. The NYC buzz below was white noise more or less -- a sort of comforting hum with the intermittent cab driver leaning on his horn like traffic would apologize and stop existing. And just as that ever melodious BEEEEEEP cut off, Peter hopped out of the bedroom. Literally hopped while tugging on one of the boots to his red and blue ensemble for the night. “Hey, MJ?” he called towards the open kitchen. Two hops later, the boot slide up and into place. He straightened up and hooked his mask from off his shoulder, where it had been draped. “MJ?” he tried again. Clearing the counter revealed her seated at the table on the other side, likely running through some pre-opening work for the club. “Taking another night shift,” he explained with a gesture towards the Spider-Man suit that clearly made the statement in bolder font. An apologetic smile followed, as was the Parker way. There were some things that Mary Jane Watson really hated about herself. The most pressing thing was that she absolutely loved Peter Parker, couldn't live without him and Spider-Man was a part of him. But goddamnit if sometimes, when the world might be ending, she'd like him to spend it with her. What if whatever they did to try and fix it didn't work? MJ would be stuck wherever she was when the end came, scared and alone. She was proud of Peter, no doubt about that, and she often encouraged him to put on the mask, but sometimes… Like tonight, actually. Having been torn from Mayday, and knowing they both needed to occupy their time with busy didn't quite make the flare of jealousy any easier to push down. He'd spend the whole night of the damn day the bright light went off somewhere else. Protecting other people, comforting other people. She really thought things were going to be different here. He'd said… MJ barely looked up from her paperwork, but her expression wasn't hidden at all. Her eyes were unblinking because she knew that if she gave in and blinked just once, she'd do it again and again until she either cried or looked like she was going to. She wanted to appear resolute, strong, able to handle this. As soon as he left, she'd go grab a pillow, scream into it, and probably fall asleep. There was no club tonight; it was closed on Monday and Tuesday evenings. Tonight should have been family dinner. Instead, everyone had picked up extra patrols, she assumed. And the Parker way also happened to be not bailing when things clearly weren’t okay. Two golden rules: don’t go to bed angry, and don’t hop out the window without remembering that every goodbye could be final. Peter looked towards the door that lead out to the rooftop deck, then back to MJ. Duality sucked. It wasn’t always this hard to balance both sides of his life, and she had always fit into both of them, but the last month hadn’t been kind in the least. And, honestly, it was hard to be away from her, same as he knew she had to deal with him bounding off to deal with god-knows-what. “Soon as we figure this out and find what that white event was really about, I’m back here. It’s gotta give up answers, and the whole team’s on it,” he tried. The words felt hollow, and she probably knew this was beyond his ability to promise anything. He crossed to her side at the table, leaning down and planting a kiss atop her head. “Be back fast as I can.” Always with the I'll be back. One day, he wasn't going to be, and while she knew that sitting here sulking wasn't going to do anything but fill her with regret one day, MJ still did it anyway. She tried not to lean against him, tried not to slip her hand over his wrist, tried not to grab onto him and just hold on until the urge to leave her had passed. In her imagination, he picked her up and held her. He stayed. "Don't go, Peter. Please?" In reality, something very bizarre was happening as she hopped to her feet and hugged him. It took a few seconds before it obeyed, but those seconds went by fast. Her hair had taken on a life of its own. It grew and weaved itself around Peter's back, his arms, his neck like a twisting vine that desperately needed a trellis to support it. It was all familiar territory at first. Peter let his arms come down around her, but they had stopped about midway. He tried again, but something was coiling around him. Like webbing? Instinct was to turn and see if Ben or Kaine had turned up. Brothers, right? Brothers. And his eyes found red, instead. Red hair, winding around his wrists, up his arms. It was at his neck, and that prompted what might have been the least heroic noise to come out of his mouth. It wasn’t unlike a balloon deflating, really. A little squeaky. A little constrained. Peter’s eyes lit up, went wide, and stared straight ahead. He froze on the spot. To the credit of all Parker ancestors, he didn’t actually whimper. That wasn't quite the reply she was hoping for. MJ sighed, intending to flop back down in her seat and pretend she never tried to beg him to stay. But, that was a moot point because pulling away from him wasn't going to happen. For a second, just one little second, she -- like Peter -- thought it was webbing. Ha ha, very funny Peter, now let me go so you can let me go so I can go pout in a corner. Her head, unfortunately, could only move a few inches before tendrils of red hair waggled in her direction as if they were waving at her. It took her another moment or two to realize that it was her hair wiggling. "What the -- Peter… what's going on?" He kept staring, but that was mostly because the strands of red had encircled his mouth. Not that he had words, but not being able to flex his blabber muscles almost made his brows lift higher in worry? Panic. Not outright panic, but panic enough. He’d known MJ for years and years and then more years after that, and never had she grabbed him with her hair. That was the kinda thing you admitted to your super-powered husband, right? Slowly, Peter shook his head as much as he could. His arms were still held out, too entangled for him to risk putting down. “Mrph?!” "I don't -- I'm not -- I don't know how this is happening or what to do!" MJ didn't mean to turn shrill, but hey, when your hair had a life of its own and was slowly enveloping your husband, she thought it was excusable. Understandable even. Even with her head attached to her hair which was attached to Peter, MJ could stand up whole. That shouldn't be possible. She had long hair, but it wasn't this long, and it never had the ability to wave. Her hand flailed as she tried to smack her hair down, hoping it would help. "Stop it! You're going to suffocate him!" Because talking to your hair might really help. And lo and behold, it did… well, something. The lock around Peter’s mouth retreated enough to reveal what was the best approximation of shock and awe. If not for the pinkish hue of his skin, he could probably pull off a convincing zombie as far as the facial region and arms-forward hobbling went. “I’m never ordering hot dogs from that cart by Bryant Park again,” was the first thing that came to mind. This could be bad hot dog levels of tripping? “Are we awake right now? How is -- what did -- you… this is so weird.” MJ had a flash of annoyance; Peter always made light of almost everything serious. MJ nearly drowned him in her hair, and not in the funny, MJ, your hair is everywhere way. Not in the MJ, I found your hair in my buttcrack after a shower way. She'd even take a Ugh, MJ. Your hair's in my soup over this. She could stand up now without having to lean over at all. "Where's the scissors? There has to be a way to stop this!" Her hair coiled around his legs and pulled them together. MJ managed to catch him before he lost his balance and toppled over. Save the red hair, they might have looked as if MJ was taking him for a dip. “What if you-OUUAAWHOA,” spilled out of Peter’s mouth as the binding of his legs set him off balance. His arms tried to regain some of it, but, ultimately, only MJ stopped the collapse before it started. And somehow this had just turned into the weirdest dance he’d ever been part of in his life. He looked up at MJ, expression so entirely lost now that his jaw was hanging open. But he shook himself back to his senses as best he could. Clearly him freaking would keep her freaking, and wasn’t improving much of anything. “Breathe -- I don’t know! Breathe deep. Think about shampoo and a nice hot shower.” He was sure his weight was going to end up pulling her down soon enough, which made him try his best to get his footing back so he could get some spider-traction going. Actually, if MJ was in her right mind and not panicking over her hair having a life of its own, she'd have found this situation incredibly hilarious. She probably would have cracked a joke about having Peter right where she wanted him. Dipped him further. Made out with him. But she didn't have weird hair, so this was cause for alarm. She took Peter's advice though. To breathe. To calm down. It wasn't undoing as fast it begin, but MJ could see that calming herself was helping. Oh man, that meant she really was controlling it. She watched it loosen up enough that Peter might be able to actually move inside his red-headed web of hair. "I don't know -- why is this happening?" she whispered, as if that would keep her calm. "My hair's never done this before!" The slack was enough to get his footing and get back to a vaguely upright position. Peter carefully tried to get one hand free after that. His mind was whirring with what could’ve happened… The White Event. People all around were reporting being able to do things they could never have done before. Peter’s eyes traveled slowly, slowly up from he was working his wrist out of tangles of red, to MJ’s eyes. “Baby, where were you during that White Event? The bright light thing?” "What do you mean?" She'd been out on the balcony, reading and sunbathing, It had been a really nice day for it. Even the bright white light hadn't scared her away, though she'd gotten up to check her phone and the news. She hadn't been convinced at first that she what she thought she had. Nothing actually happened, just the bright light. All the stuff that happened was because people couldn't see. MJ began to tug on the hair still wrapped around his wrist, dropping her gaze because she couldn't bear to look in Peter's eyes. She wasn't sure what he was going to tell her. "I -- I was out on the balcony." Peter wished he had the easy answer, but there was way too much he didn’t know about what that flash of light had done. Maybe this was the least of it for MJ, and… they would just have to get used to… whatever this was? His mouth squiggled into a funny sort of shape. “Reports’re all over saying people uh… people got powers from it. So…” So this was going to be a whole journey of discovery, Peter realized. “I mean, we can go to my lab and I can check you over. But you feel okay?” he tried, peering underneath and trying to catch MJ’s focus again. "You mean aside from my hair shrinking back up into my head? Just F-Y-I? It feels really weird." Did she wanna be checked over like an experiment? Poked and prodded only to find out she was dying because of some stupid super white light? No, but it would probably ease their minds either way. MJ swallowed in a dry mouth as she looked down into Peter's face. MJ let out a sigh, and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Yeah, I guess we can go to the lab. Just… promise me no cold instruments." “I swearsies,” Peter returned, offering his best go at a reassuring smile. It was easier to focus on that than the retreating cascade of red hair, anyway. And for good measure, he snuck up under her and in the sort of contortion that only a Spider-Man could pull off, gave her a quick smooch on the mouth. “You know I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you,” he added, a bit more quietly. “We’ll figure this out.” MJ rested her hand against the side of his face. He was the only one who could say such a cheesy thing and get away with it around her. She leaned forward and gave him her own quick kiss before she user her thumb to wipe the lipstick from his mouth. "I'm not sure I should be out walking with my hair like this. What if someone runs over my hair and I end up crushing their car?" “If I figured out how to deal with my powers and didn’t completely wreck the house -- or half of Queens -- you’re gonna be fine,” Peter told her, his smile sliding in favor of one side as she wiped at his mouth. “Seriously, have you met me? The world dumped super strength on a teenager and we’ll never know how that didn’t backfire like crazy. You…” He rested a gloved hand on the side of her face, mirroring MJ’s own gesture. “You’ve got this. We’ll walk over to the lab, nice ‘n casual-like. Get you back here to open the club, and the others can cover me on patrol. Sounds like a plan?” |