Spideychelle one-shots

Dear Journal (Pt. 5)

MJ didn't exactly realise she was depressed. Then again, it wasn't a dramatic thing; but then again, when was it?

She just sort of fell into it, like one falls into bed, or out of an airplane when skydiving. She just let go. It wasn't unnormal, her doctor said. After an injury like hers... her body was young and healed quickly. But her mind remembered. 

He suggested a therapist. MJ went, but she didn't talk. She just sat there and drank tea and stared out the window at the rain. She kept it together for school (obviously, it would have to be the apocalypse for her to let her grades drop). She didn't mind school, really. Homework felt comfortable and safe. When she was doing work, she had a routine. She knew what was expected of her. She had her small friend group, and that was okay. She wasn't noticed by anyone else, so she didn't have to interact with anyone else. 

But of course, things have to change eventually - even comfortable routines, and being depressed (but in a full-of-denial sort of way) and even though MJ didn't think she needed anything new, she was wrong. Of course. 

But how was she to know that?

Peter

It had taken Peter longer than it probably should have to build up the courage to talk to MJ. As Spiderman, of course - he wasn't quite ready to have that conversation with her yet. 

He'd debated for a long time how to approach her - what to say, how to keep himself from messing it all up. 

He really didn't want to mess it all up. 

But eventually, he decided that he had to get down to it and just talk to her - and make sure that no one else was there. The news coverage was a little crazy and he honestly felt bad for it. He hadn't realized anyone had been filming, but of course, they had been. He didn't have any privacy these days, but it was hard to care anymore. He was used to it.

He just felt bad that MJ had gotten dragged into it. 

She was okay, though, he reassured himself. She was okay. 

Peter nervously touched his face, making sure once more that his mask was in place. Even though he could feel it against his skin, and he knew it was there, the idea of MJ finding out his identity made him so nervous that he'd checked it approximately five times since leaving the apartment.

He was worried that she would be disappointed when she found out. He didn't know how to tell her that who he was at school wasn't really him. The shyness and everything - that wasn't how he acted when he was Spiderman. That wasn't even how he acted when he was alone with Ned, or when he was at home with May. There were just so many rules at school, and roles people had to play - and somehow, his role had become shy, soft, nerdy boy. Most of that was true. But the shy part... wasn't. Peter was confident, sometimes to much. He was cocky and he liked to joke around. 

Somehow it was just harder to be that person at school. And he had no idea how MJ would take it. 

He took in a deep breath, then swung softly onto her windowsill and knocked on her window. 

She looked up from the book she was reading and gaped at him for a moment, eyes wide with shock. He smiled, widening his eyes so the expression would show up better through his mask. That was one of the downsides - communication was harder when you couldn't really use facial expressions. 

MJ stood up carefully, and Peter could see the bandages poking out from under her shirt. But she didn't seem to be in any pain, and she smiled at him with clear eyes. She pushed the window open, Peter leaning backwards so it didn't hit him.

"Hi," she said softly.

"Hey," he said, putting a hand out to balance himself. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," she said, moving out of the way. He swung down, feet hitting the carpet softly. She shuffled back to her bed, sitting down and fidgeting with the hair tie on her wrist.

"I'm glad - "

"Thank-you - " MJ blushed. "You go first."

"I'm glad you're okay," Peter said. "I was worried."

"I know. I mean, I've seen the videos. I mean - why do you care so much?" MJ burst out. "Also, thank - you for saving me. Again."

"First off, you're welcome. Again." Peter smiled. MJ just stared at the floor. "And secondly, I like you. And... I think maybe you like me too."

"What would make you think that?" MJ said defensively.

"I - well, funny story actually but I'm pretty sure I found your journal. It was enlightening, to say the least."

"You... found my journal." MJ crosses her arms over her chest, wincing when the movement pulls at her still-healing stitches. "And you read it?"

"I needed to find out whose it was," Peter pointed out, smiling. MJ sighed and turned, eyes meeting his.

"I suppose," she said guardedly. Peter waited, but that seemed to be all she had to say. He'd expected... Well, he didn't exactly know. But he'd expected more than this. 

"It's just that I don't even know anything about you," she blurts out, hands twisting at her sleeves. 

"I can't tell you who I am, MJ," he says, hoping she understands. "Not yet."

"I know," she says. "I know. I just wish..."

"Yeah," Peter says, completely understanding. 

Silence fills the room. Peter searches for something to say, something he can give her - some piece of information he can trust her with.

"I can trust you, right?" He looks at her, steady and slow.

"Yes," she says simply, voice certain.

"You cannot tell this to anyone, MJ. It..."

"I swear," she says. "I swear I won't."

"My father..." he says, trailing off. "I guess you could say I inherited this whole superhero thing from him."

MJ stares at him, clues like puzzle pieces fitting together in her head. "No," she says, eyes wide.

Peter smiles at her, not unkindly. "Yes," he says. "Yeah, MJ."

"Not..." she says, not wanting to say it out loud in case she's wrong. "Not Tony Stark?"

Peter nods. "The one and only Ironman," he says, and he can tell that she hears the trace of bitterness in his voice. So many secrets - sometimes it felt like secrets were his whole life. 

"Wow," she says, leaning back. "I mean - it makes so much sense."

"You're smart," he said. "I almost thought you would've already guessed."

"Yeah, well..." she says, trailing off, and Peter seems content to let the silence stretch. After a period where only the faint sounds of their breathing fill the air, Peter seems to start.

"It's late," he says, looking at something MJ can't see. "I should go."

"Yeah," she says. 

Peter pauses, gathers his courage. "Can - can I have your number? So we can text? Maybe... get to know each other a little better?"

MJ smiles. "I'd like that." She rips off a small piece of lined paper from one of her journals, writes her number on it in neat, dark ink. 

Peter takes it carefully, tucking it into his suit. He ducks his head, feeling bubbly and light and happy inside. 

"Goodnight, MJ," he says, opening the window again.

"Goodnight," she says, smiling. 

He pulls himself out of the window and swings away, allowing himself one last glance backwards, to where MJ stands, smiling, in the middle of her bedroom.

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