╭ ╮
━━━━ " 📂 "
𝘼 𝙋 𝙊 𝘾 𝘼 𝙇 𝙔 𝙋 𝙎 𝙀
╰ ╯
"HI THIS IS PETER... PARKER, IF YOU DIDN'T KNOW. PLEASE LEAVE A MESSAGE."
The tone vibrated through MJ's ear, loud in comparison to the change in volume between the entrance to the Oscorp building and the streets of New York outside. It was later than she had anticipated, but when the interns had left there was far more cleaning up and eventually, it was far later than expected. Peter had returned after twenty minutes like promised and she had taken Rodrigo's pass in exchange for her own, sending him towards the cafeteria and joining him in a very rushed coffee ten minutes later. Since then, they hadn't spoken, despite her promise to call him in regards to the next day,
However now, as Margot finally got the chance to leave the building and begin to make her way home in the late evening, darkness having already fallen, she finally got the chance. There was a slim possibility that Peter would still be awake - he had been the other night - but MJ couldn't say she wasn't surprised that all she got was his voicemail. And she didn't mind.
"Hi." MJ began. "Er - sorry it's so late, I've been busy all day and I'm only just getting off now. I'm pretty sure the maximum time for a voicemail is three minutes so I'll talk, and you don't necessarily have to listen, however I'll speak and if I need more time I'll call you again."
She took a deep breath, apologising to someone she very almost crashed into before continuing. "Anyways. Personally, I think glasses are an incredibly worthwhile disguise, couldn't spit you a mile away, Rodrigo. I didn't know you wore them - but they're cute, you should wear them more often. And speaking of Rodrigo, I managed to remedy your little case of identity theft." Another crowd was served around, horns blaring as several others jaywalked.
Instead of heading down to her usual station, MJ decided to walk towards the next one along; it gave her more time to walk and talk. Or at least, talk to Peter's voicemail.
"I called around, made sure that he wasn't so shaken up by the security guards." She said, relaying back the details of the majority of her extra work that evening. "He's actually quite nice. Anyway, Dr. Connors agreed to give him some credit for the cafeteria and he'll be back next Saturday." Her boss had seemed a little saddened when they spoke, almost somewhat angry, but he hadn't hesitated with her ideas.
"I think I still have a little time left.. but I don't have much else to say so call me when you get this.. hopefully I'll be awake but if not, you know what to do." MJ came to a stop outside the second station, fiddling with the bottom of her shirt. "I really want to see you tomorrow Pete, properly. So call me, okay?"
She had only a few seconds left, but she wouldn't be cut off, and instead closed her phone and began to descend down into the platforms of the New York subway, once again making minimal use of her pass as she skipped over the barriers and got on the next train heading in the direction of the outer borough. Her eyelids were lulling as she clutched the silver pole that stretched up the metal cage, as if magnetised down towards her cheeks, but eventually she reached her station and walking slowly through the dark streets, she made her way home.
John was watching another documentary when she opened the door, and for once... it didn't seem to be as though MJ was the one taking care of them. Jack was in bed, smiling in his sleep when she came in and checked on him, palm smoothing his dark hair against his head. Her dad had poured her a small glass of red wine when she got back, offered her a couple sips as she sat beside him whilst the documentary played. It was on whales this time, and whether that was a contributing factor to her eventual blip into a state of utter exhaustion or not, it took her no less than half an hour to fall asleep there.
She slept blissfully, unaware of her surroundings or position on the sofa, and she must have looked too peaceful to wake for a mere phone call. Because when she awoke the next morning, Jack quietly eating his bowl of cereal by her feet with the TV on one of the lowest volumes and several built lego structures balanced on her chest, MJ's first instinct was the check the time, which is where she found messages from Gwen about the previous day, one from Missy Kallenback about meeting up for her to help with arranging yearbook-related actions, one from Dr. Connors congratulating her on fixing the 'Rodrigo mishap' as it come to be known as well as thanking her for her help.
And below that, several missed-call notifications and follow-up voicemails. All from the same person.
It appeared Peter and MJ only communicated through voicemails following the incident at Oscorp, and when she carefully extracted herself from under the blanket and lego and rushed to the bathroom, locking the door behind her and taking a seat atop of the toilet, she played the message.
And it was somewhat... concerning.
"Hi... MJ." That would be usual. Except he sounded too tired, almost drunk, almost like he had forgotten her name - and he dragged out the 'J' for so long it didn't sound like an actual letter anymore. "Sorry I missed your call." And that sounded perfectly normal. "Rodrigo? Yeah.. he's great, how's he doing?"
He sounded like he was on some kind of drugs. In the mirror opposite, MJ could see her brows furrow upon hearing it.
"I would love to see you. I miss you.. a lot. I think we should've talked, right? I mean we were such close friends - wow I'm hot." What followed was the sound of what was definitely a shirt being pulled off and dumped on the floor. MJ hated the blush that ran across her cheeks. "Yeah - woah. That's better. Listen - I miss you.. a lot. I think we should've talked, right?"
Again, confusing. He sounded drunk, he was clearly warm - perhaps feverish - and repeating his sentences. This couldn't be good. Very quickly, MJ was crossing the hallway and heading into her room, scrambling for a notepad and pen to write down the symptoms.
"Hey - I got off the train at Coney Island - and then I had to get another back home.. and I ran like ten blocks and then ate Aunt May's meatloaf.. and I hate meatloaf but this is the best meatloaf I've ever eaten." Peter continued to ramble, pushing Margot further and further into confusion. "Wait... I missed a bit. And I missed you - what was that beep - oh shit, hold on."
It just got more and more strange. Mere moments later and MJ couldn't wait any longer, so she began to play the second one.
"Right. MJ, hi. Sorry, had to put my shirt on again. And a sweater.. it's really cold in this house. Maybe it was the meatloaf - it was straight from the refrigerator. And I had ice cream.. and mac and cheese from the freezer. But.. like I was saying I missed a bit. I was on the train.. and then I was upside down. Like hanging from the ceilings.. and I ripped off a pole from the ground and knocked out two dudes. I caught a fly that was buzzing around. And I'm sweaty.. My hands are really sticky.. like they've been covered in glue. There was a spider web... attached to my neck. I think it fell on me.. there was a spider on the end though.. but that doesn't matter. I'm really hot. And I'm really warm. And hungry. And tired. Really.. really tired."
The second message was one long ramble, no interruptions between. And from the sounds of the ending, Peter had put all of his energy into it until he passed out.
After a moment of pondering, MJ had come to two conclusions. Either Peter was high on something, or he was coming down with a fever and having subsequent fever dreams. The latter was more likely; MJ knew Peter - she had seen him in school - and she had seen addicts, like the couple in the apartment on the floor below. Peter wasn't an addict. It wasn't drinking. Either drugs or fever dreams. And MJ thought it was fever dreams.
Which meant he was sick. And like she would do for any friend.. Margot was going to visit him. But first, she needed medicine and supplies.
But first she had to shower. She was still wearing the same clothes she had been in since the previous morning. Then she would go.
🕸
It took her a little while to get everything together, and even longer to remember exactly where she was going, but eventually MJ made her way down the semi-familiar street, coming to a stop in front of her old home and pausing. There was a flash of a memory in the forefront of her mind that made her feel a little sick.
Madeline Watson had been an enigma of a woman. Elegant - a trained dancer - who made scones and read books and painted her daughter's room every time her favourite colour changed. Who wrapped herself in woollen cardigans when she began to become more fragile and sat in the window seat as she watched her daughter hold onto the hands of the boy next door as she learnt how to ride his very first skateboard. She would patch both of them up if they fell, let Peter borrow her camera, sat with her daughter with bowls of pasta as they watched old ballet tapes.
Now.. the window seat was empty, and Margot swallowed harshly before moving towards the second house of interest, making her way up the stairs.
She knocked on the door with the golden '36' in curved letters across the glass, and MJ took a step back as she waited, fiddling with the strap of the bag slung over her shoulder, which had crashed into her hip so many times as she took the subway to her old neighbourhood. She still wondered why her dad had decided to move so far away, the street seemed to be rather friendly and overall, a whole lot better place to raise an inquisitive child than an apartment building.
The girl was still looking around when the sound of the door opening startled her, tucking dark hair behind her ear as she came to look at a woman she was familiar with somewhere in her memory. Aunt May, who looked so similar yet so distant to her last memories there. She was tired now, more worn by life.
"...Hello?" May asked.
MJ blinked, realising she hadn't actually said anything. "Oh - sorry. Um.. Peter left me a voicemail last night, said he was sick, so I brought him a couple things." She smiled, gesturing at the bag in her arms, hand reaching to pull down the oddly printed denim skirt and matching polo. May stared at her for a moment. "You probably have no idea who I am.. sorry again, it's just that I used to live here and it's all coming back.. sorry - I'm MJ Watson. We - me and my dad.. and my mom - we used to live-"
"Next door." May finished with a nod. "Yes, yes I remember. Margot-Juliet, right?" MJ confirmed it. "I had no idea that you and Peter were quite so close, please - come in."
"Thank you." MJ took the invitation and stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "We sat besides each other for years.. but it was only on Monday that we started talking again."
"Was it you that he stayed out to see on Wednesday?" May asked as she bustled around the kitchen. MJ felt almost awkward being there, despite her many previous visits. Perhaps the woman noticed how she was fiddling with her thumbs, twisting the strap of her bag around her fingers, because moments later she opened the refrigerator and out emerged a yellow-twinged jug. "Iced tea?" She asked.
"Yes please." Margot agreed - perhaps a little too eagerly because she swallowed and retracted slightly. "And yes, that was me... we went out for pizza.. um - he's been walking me to the train station." She added, just in case Mrs Parker was wondering just how Peter ended up being late. "We've had a lot to catch up on."
May nodded, pouring liquid into a glass. "I figured as much.. It's been six, seven years since I've heard him talking about you... And what about yesterday? He disappeared for hours yesterday."
"We weren't supposed to, actually." That was a bone that MJ was going to have to pick with Peter when he felt better. "We were supposed to see each other today. But yesterday he came to my work and.. we ate lunch together, you don't think he has food poisoning, do you? He was feeling pretty sick."
"I wasn't too sure what it was." May hummed, handing over the glass. "You should go check on him. He's in his room. Or should be. Maybe he'll be a little more honest when it comes to you." She ushered her towards the stairs. "Please tell me if he isn't."
"Of course." Margot nodded, climbing up the stairs without even thinking to ask which room was his. But it soon became obvious as she was faced with a small hallway with the four doors. One was ajar, revealing a neat bedroom with a double bed - the master bedroom. The double doors at the end of the hallway had to be a closet and after opening the second door to reveal a bathroom, she came to a stop in front of the last door.
Perhaps this was a little too personal for her to do. She didn't want to seem clingy or overly invasive. But they were supposed to see each other that day and he had came to Oscorp with no warning for something to do with his father, stolen someone else's name tag and then left her a very strange voicemail, so if Peter classed this as overly invasive, she had something to say of her own about his intrusions.
For the second time, MJ raised her hand in a fist and knocked, knuckles hitting the wood way harsher than she meant then to and she quickly retracted, rocking back on her heels as she waited, looking up as the door cracked open.
"MJ?" Peter stared at her, eyes wide behind his glasses. "I - er - just one minute." The door closed again and she took another step back, sipping her tea as she stared at a painting on the wall between the two doors. The door clicked open again, this time the background much brighter and Peter looking a little more awake, his glasses gone. "Hi, sorry, come in."
"Where did your glasses go?" She asked as she took a step inside, the glass being taken from her hand and placed down on the nightstand. At least that's what she thought Peter was doing, although he was turned for a rather long time and when he did turn back around, he looked vaguely disgruntled.
"Oh.. I took them off. I only really wear them at home." Peter had sat back down in his bed, looking more uncomfortable than anything as he tried to wipe his hands and subconsciously she wrapped her arms around her chest.
"They're cute, you should wear them more often. Sorry, I'm intruding." MJ swallowed, her words repeated from her call the previous night. "It's just that you left me a voicemail and you sounded sick so.. I brought you ginger and honey tea and chicken soup and garlic is supposed to be good for sick people so I picked some up from the pizza place down the street from my apartment, it should still be warm but unlike the tea and soup it isn't in a thermos and instead a takeaway box but here." She held out the plastic bag, very much aware she was rambling. "I raided the bathroom cabinet as well, so there's some medicine in there."
"Thanks." Peter had his glasses back on, reaching for the bag and taking it. "Wow - really, thanks... you said I left you a voicemail?"
"Yeah, um.." MJ took a seat on his desk chair, feet balanced on the edge of his bed frame. "I think I deleted it.. but you sounded almost drunk, or really tired. You were eating I think, saying about cold and then hot and then you hung up. You sounded feverish to the point of.. well insanity. So I figured I would just come by.. make sure you didn't die in the night."
"Oh. Shit - sorry. No, I remember calling you now. But I think I'm fine now." He pulled a hand through his hair, watching as MJ took in his room, coming to stop in front of the photos above his bed. They were a number of architecture-based shots, a few trees. Then one of a chess board, a girl smiling above it.
"That's.. me." MJ smiled, turning towards him. "Wow - they're amazing. Sorry - off topic. But you think you're fine?" She continued scanning the room for a moment, the old skateboards hanging above his bed taking a slight interest. "Well I didn't bring a thermometer with me, I assume your aunt has one, however.."
MJ moved suddenly, coming to sit beside where he sat, propped up with his pillow. Tentatively, she raised her hand to move his hair out of the way, laying her palm flat against his forehead. "You don't feel too hot, or particularly cold." She glanced down, meeting his eyes. "Sorry if I'm intruding here.. we were supposed to meet up today so I thought it might be okay, but now that I think about it, coming to your house is a little much."
"No - no." Peter shook his head, as her hands came to rest on her lap. The close proximities made him flush warm, his gaze into her eyes not wavering. "You're more than welcome. Really, I'm glad you're here. Really glad you came. If anything, I'm sorry that I couldn't properly take you out. You shouldn't spend your Sunday looking after me when you did the same thing yesterday after I.. broke into Oscorp."
"That's right, Rodrigo." MJ smiled, a small glimmer of confidence striking in her eyes. "If you weren't sick, I might have kissed you for the-"
"I don't think it's contagious." Peter interrupted her, sitting up a little more. He paused, watching as she laughed.
"You won't even let me tell you why?" She looked down at him, watched as he shook his head. "And you're sure it's not contagious."
"I'm pretty sure it was just a hot flush." Peter shrugged, trying his very hardest to play off the initial enthusiasm that had escaped him without warning. "Definitely sure."
"Well if you're definitely sure." She raised her eyebrows as he nodded again, hand placed on his cheek as she kissed him. It was brief, diffident, just in case he really was sick.
She was pretty. She was so pretty.
Peter was decisively not a fan of caution, and he threw all of his into the wind as he reached for her again, bringing their lips together with a vehement need, frenzied and tumultuous. Slowly, so slowly, they broke apart again, in such close proximity their noses brushed.
"If I get sick-"
"I'll nurse you back to health." Peter promised. "I'll even get one of those dresses." She was laughing again, head tilted back oh-so slightly as he stared. It seemed inevitable for him now. The more time they spent together the more he became completely infatuated and obsessed.
"Oh really." She raised an eyebrow, her lips pink from kissing him - kissing him - and she reached back to the bag she had deposited in his hands moments earlier. "I would love to see that. Now the tea and the soup is all for you.. but I'll have some of the garlic bread if you don't mind."
"Go ahead." Peter took the flask of the soup, switching the setting at the top of the portable cup so that he could sip it, watching as she carefully tore off parts of the garlic bread.
"How do you feel about Thai food?" MJ asked rather suddenly, tearing off another bit of bread and placing it by his mouth, the boy leaning forward just slightly to eat it. It was no surprise she had wanted some; it was amazing.
"I don't think I've ever had it." He has felt normal since she had entered the room, but with the blinds open and everything seeming like it was strongly enhanced, his senses were slowly overwhelming him. "Why?" Peter forced himself to ask, so glad that her focus was elsewhere as his gaze almost instinctively shot towards the chair at the end of his bed, where he could see the stupid spider crawling along.
"There's a place near my apartment. They do the best pad kaprao." Her eyes narrowed as she saw him staring into what seemed like midair. "Peter.. really, if you're feeling too sick I should go. At least take some medicine?"
"No - I'm fine. Just.. thinking." Peter nodded quickly, looking towards her again. His hand reached out quickly, curling around her cheek, pulling her close again. A kiss was pressed to her lips, then one more - and another. "Don't worry." He murmured, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I'm not contagious, really"
"You better not be." She smiled - such a pretty, pretty sight - and leant into his hand, the grin on her face unwittingly enticing. And despite the haze of overwhelmed senses and the effort he was putting in to not let whatever the hell was happening to him force him to spring out of bed and be attached to the ceiling once more, his spare hand reached for the bedside table, managing to find his phone.
MJ seemed to get the message, her expression changing only slightly at the sudden extraordinarily quick movements, not even having time to blink as he took the photo, staring down at the screen. "If anything I'd say this mysterious non-contagious illness is making you quicker than physically possible." She settled down on the bed in front of him. "You don't take many pictures of people."
"I don't?" Peter blinked, watching as she shook her head. "Do you think tea works in the same way as water when taking pills?" He had only just managed to let the phone go, using his leg as a lever to tug it from his hands, and now he was extracting the bottle of pain relief medicine from the bag.
"It should do, it's just a liquid, right?" MJ shifted a little, eyes widening slightly as he pulled her over his legs and onto the other side of his bed with no effort put in at all. "And no, you don't.. I didn't see any when I first came in anyways.. and I still don't see any now."
He swallowed a couple pills, tipping his head back with a mouthful of tea, quite aware of how unattractive he must look to her right now. "Do you know what the nine muses are?" He asked. The almost dazed, happy look hadn't left her eyes, even though she was curled up beside him on a small twin bed. She was sat there with him, not bothered about kissing him despite his illness. He knew she thought he had some fever, that his crazed voicemail had been a fever dream. However, what he didn't know was actually what had happened to him, and this was a perfect distraction.
"In Greek Mythology?" MJ tilted her head. "Yeah.. Calliope, Clio, Erato, Euterpe, Melpomene, Polyhymnia, Thalia, Terpsichore and Urania. Sources of inspiration for all of the arts and knowledge."
"Oh wow - you do know them." Peter paused for a moment, wondering if he was going too far. The idea of having a muse was something he had fixated on for a while, and otherwise found that his ability in taking portrait photos dwindled significantly in comparison to everything else. "Well.. I guess I was looking for one of those first. Not necessarily specifically for anything... just sort of someone who I felt.. or my feelings towards.. were similar to feeling that rush when you're really inspired by something and you have to do something with it or you'll go crazy, or something."
Margot stared at him for a moment, and he wondered if the cogs were whirring away within her clever mind. He wondered if it had clicked into place yet, exactly what he was saying. "You needed a muse." She spoke slowly, her fingers intertwined with his as he rose them up to his lips, pressing kisses to her knuckles. By now, the food was finished and the rest of the tea was sitting in the thermos on the nightstand. The ice cubes in her drink had melted.
"When I took pictures of people before.. I didn't think they looked right... almost that I wasn't taking them for the right reasons - nothing to do with the people I was taking pictures of, it was just me that wasn't happy with them." He murmured, feeling his hands begin to stick to the sheets again. He had no idea what was happening to him, but he felt significantly calmer than the night before. Peter paused. He could hear footsteps again. His eyes shot towards the spider crawling across the corner of his room, and he was shot back to the night before, when he pulled a strange arachnid from the back of his neck.
Things were clicking together in his mind, but nothing seemed more important to Peter than the smile flitting through the eyes of the girl sitting next to him as she looked up at him. "Yeah... I get that." MJ nodded slowly. She was less artistically inclined than she wished to be, but there was a thudding in her chest as she broke eye contact and her gaze dropped to her lap, focus on the plaid sheets she was sat on. She wondered if she was right.. but considering the photo on his phone and the several taken by Peter on Wednesday night - she had seen them, some were focused solely on her. Which was different.. but it felt good. Even after school, when he had been walking her to the station with no complaints at all, there had been clicks of his camera and shy smiles.
"So.." She said quietly, curling her arms around her stomach. "Is it one particular muse.. or is it a culmination of them all?"
"I never decided. But Calliope, I think. Epic poetry. Someone who's deserving of being the focus of epic poetry." Peter shrugged, gaze warm as his eyes landed on her.
"I hardly think I could be the focus of epic poetry." MJ spoke without thinking, cheeks flushing as she realised what she had said.
"MJ Watson." Peter's tone was teasing, but gentle. "Do you think you're my muse?" He asked, hands finding her waist and lifting her onto his lap. She didn't seem to care that he was potentially contagious, or the fact that all of a sudden another boundary had been crossed. Her forehead was leaning against his shoulder, pink-tinted cheeks hidden away. "Do you?"
"Possibly." She murmured. "It was just a stupid assumption.. I don't - I don't want to make things awkward or uncomfortable or..."
It was too late for things like that, and Peter held a smile as his hands left her waist and cupped her cheeks, lifting her chin and tucking hair behind her ears. "I'd write an epic poem about you." He insisted. "And I am really fucking bad at writing poetry."
Her averted gaze met his own for a moment, before his goal had been achieved and she began to laugh, shaking her head. "What would you write about?" She asked, hand covering her mouth in a new-found, more comfortable embarrassment. "I don't think there's much you can say about my job or-"
"I'll have plenty to say.. not in relation to Oscorp." Peter replied, several kisses pressed to her lips following. "I'd list them but.."
"Please don't." Margot quickly interrupted. "I don't think I could take it.. I'm awful at taking compliments, as you may have figured out." They were in much closer proximity now, one pair of hands clasped on their lap and Peter's continuously brushing hair back behind her ear, carefully carving a small, gentle path. MJ, slightly surprised, found her hand clutching at the bottom of his shirt.
"I know. It's awful. What if I want to tell you something but I can't?" Peter tilted his head. "Or what if I want to take photos of you. You're my muse."
"I'm.. I'm.. fine. I'm okay with academic-based ones.. like from my teachers or Dr. Connors, but-"
"It's just me, right?" Peter grinned, not minding it in the slightest. "That's fine. I don't mind.. I'll just find a way to tell you anyway. But you don't seem to care about telling me how good I look in glasses. And, I'Il think you'll find that I'm a very close second in the class."
"Joint second."
"Fine, I'll settle." He kissed her - he couldn't stop kissing her - and pulled back. "You're pretty - you're so pretty." The necklace hanging around her neck was the one he had gifted her, and it hadn't been taken off since he got it. In all honesty, Peter felt stupid. Excluding the mysterious illness that was seeming to become more and more like he had been bitten by one of the spiders in the odd circular room, Peter had never felt happier, and he had delayed the undeniably euphoric feeling that came from being with MJ. Not even solely in the relationship sense, but also in general. Nothing felt better than right then, despite his hands feeling sticky again and when he had lifted her up it had been far too high and way too quickly and he had to hurry to put her down.
It was something. He was sure he hadn't felt this strongly the previous day. Of course, the contentedness had been growing over the days but now - now it almost felt like he was going to explode. "You're so pretty, and so smart, and just.. amazing." Peter repeated the compliments over and over, relishing in the flush of pink that covered her cheeks. "And my Aunt May is right outside the door."
He had barely even realised that he had heard her footsteps - the stairs had a strip of carpet along the centre and usually cushioned any noise - but was proven right when a moment later when the door swung open and May was greeted by the sight of MJ Watson - the lovely, tiny, quiet MJ Watson who used to live next door who had disappeared from any mention for years - sat on her nephew's lap.
"I take it you're feeling okay, Peter." MJ shuffled backwards as May spoke, blush only deepening as she busied herself trying to smooth her skirt over her legs. "I was going to offer you both some lunch as it's getting near that time.. but it seems that's been taken care of."
"I could eat." Peter replied. "MJ, you want some food? I had some of the best meatloaf of my life yesterday." He paused. "I... don't like meatloaf."
"I was going to make sandwiches." May reassured. "You ate all the meatloaf.. and the mac and cheese."
"Right." Peter nodded. "Sandwiches sounds good.. um.. I should probably shower again and... change my clothes." He glanced towards MJ, who smiled.
"I think we've got some catching up to do, right?" May said. "MJ, I'll be down in the kitchen when you want to come down."
Margot nodded, about to get to her feet. "I'll just collect all my stuff, and I'll be down. I'll help with the sandwiches." She agreed, and Aunt May nodded before pulling the door too. "How the hell did you hear her coming?" MJ turned towards him, eyes wide.
"I have no idea." Peter shrugged, swinging his legs over the side of the bed as she stood up. He reached a hand out, pulling her down to kiss her again. "I'll be quick, I promise."
"You better not get me sick." MJ examined him for a moment. "Although you do look like you're feeling better."
"I feel better." He confirmed with a nod. "And if you do get sick, I'll happily nurse you back to health and personally apologise to several people - including Dr. Connors - for taking away their best student." He kissed her cheek as she stood up again, a content smile on his face watching until she pulled the door to a close.
He had crossed the room quicker than what he felt physically possible, barrelling into his desk chair and turning on his computer. The childhood picture of himself and MJ smiled back at him as he opened new tabs and he paused to change the wallpaper on his phone, before hurriedly trying to research the spider bite on the back of his neck. He found an image similar, but before he could find what spider exactly, the keys had stuck to his fingertips.
But there was no doubt about it. Peter had been bitten by one of those spiders in the Biocable lab at Oscorp. And under no circumstances could he tell MJ about it. She had asked him to not get in trouble, and so he would continue to make it seem that way.
However.. something strange was happening to him. And he'd have to find a new way to remedy it.
And get a new keyboard.