Wrong number :/~~Spider-Man

Llama

Too much noise

A kick to the rib brought him back.

"You have one more chance, tough guy, where is my ticket out of here?!?" The man pressed the pistol against Peter's head, applying pressure to his already stressed brain.

Police sirens rang in the distance, a grin spreading across Peter's bloody lips.

A breathy laugh rung into his voice as he spoke "right there, you asshole".

The stranger, distracted, lowered the gun a tiny bit.

A loud crack and a scream following directed some of the closer officers to Peter and the lawbreaker.

Or.. more accurately, just the lawbreaker now.

Peter was gone out the window.

The crook had snapped his ankle, hoping to stop him from running or fighting back so he could get a clear shot. Almost like he forgot that Peter- I mean SpiderMan wasn't really relying on his legs at the moment. While it didn't stop Peter from crying out in pain, his body moved faster than his mind, a fist landing directly into the man's face. He used his arms and hoisted himself out the window, needing to get home. Fast.

Police could handle a man who had been knocked unconscious, and Peter could handle a broken (or sprained, he wasn't ready to check yet) ankle for a little while.

One thing he couldn't handle though, was tomorrow.

That's gonna be fun..

Still, Peter had promised, and he was going to go through with it. He just needed to take a pit stop on his way home..

Okay so yeah, maybe it was a little weird that he knew where MJ lived, even if he's never been invited to her house. And yeah, also probably the fact that he knew which window was to her room, but there was a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why, he's not a creep. Just dropping stuff on during sick days when she's not in the room, relying on the dizziness or uncaring vibe to allow her not to question it. Not weird, like I said.

Peter was too out of it to entirely know what he was doing, %82 of his mind led him here because "free medical care" and "MJ knows stuff". The other %18 definitely not being "MJ MJ MJ MJ MJ MJ" on repeat in his head like dance monkey.

Welp, too late to go back now. He was using one hand above her window to carry himself, the rest of him just hanging limp. Dragging his arm up, he knocked on the glass.

MJ was laying on her floor, switching back and fourth between a conversation on discord and making a colored version of the newly discovered King of Wakanda's powered fursona, as she and her internet friend liked to call it.

A knock on her window made her jump. She was on the second story?? Why would anyone climb up there just to talk to her??

Pretending like she didn't hear, MJ's eyes traced her room for the closest thing she could use as a defense. Her swords were above the window, so that was out of question, and her dad's gun was downstairs. No trained weapons then. She could grab a couple pencils and hope she remembered pressure points from a karate class she took, but that be too risky.

The knocking came again, and she knew she couldn't ignore it without looking suspicious. MJ turned around.

Spiderman, mask half off, was at her window. Her window.

Rushing from her spot, she ran over and fumbled with the locks, he didn't look like he could stand. She was correct. The second he entered the room, Spiderman allowed himself to collapse on the floor.