MJ
I guess that's why I'm a superhero. You know, because I'm so lazy.
Oh, definitely. Such a disappointment to society.... Sometimes I wonder how you look at yourself in the morning.
Oh, with adoration. I mean, because I love myself SO MUCH
MJ giggled, furtively checking to make sure no one was reading over her shoulder. It had been a week since they'd started texting, words between them flowing smoothly after the first awkward text (simply saying, 'hey') that she'd sent him.
She didn't know what she'd expected when he'd asked for her number. But she definitely hadn't thought it would be so easy.
Talking to Spiderman was like talking to someone she'd known her whole life. Somehow she'd never imagined it could be like this - like it was meant to be. This was saying something, because MJ didn't believe in soulmates.
She'd told told him this, late one night when they were talking about fate and destiny and the way the world works.
She'd typed it out, quickly, fingers rushing:
I don't believe in soulmates.
There had been a pause, then:
Maybe I can change your mind.
She'd frozen, breath caught in her chest, that tiny flicker of hope leaping - but then the moment had ended. She hadn't known what to say, had texted back something funny. Something meaningless.
But she still thought about it sometimes.
Maybe I can change your mind.
She knew that she didn't really know him. That, for some reason, he had taken an interest in her but he had all the cards. For all she knew, "he" could be 28 and a girl.
And MJ was very, very straight.
But for once in her life, she wasn't being stiflingly careful. For once in her life, she was letting herself have something that she wanted. And she wanted him.
She had been a little bit blindsided by the revelation he'd dropped on her the other night. Tony Stark's son - it explained so much. There'd always been rumours, of course - placed by corporate rivals and trashy gossip magazines. She'd never really believed them, though. But she believed him.
She found it harder than ever to concentrate on school. Between texting Spiderman and the intermittent ache from her wound, schoolwork wasn't often at the forefront of her mind.
Pulling herself together was becoming more and more important, though, as the Science Fair came closer and closer. It wouldn't be fair to Peter not to give it her absolute best; the State-Wide Science Fair was very prestigious, judged by scientists in the top of their fields, and attended by many, many university reps and other scientists and important people.
Winning could mean full-ride scholarships and never having to worry about your career again. It could mean finding a mentor that would stick with you for life.
Embarrassing yourself, however, could mean that your career was over. And no, MJ didn't think she was being over dramatic.
Which was how, one late evening, her and Peter were in the local library, bent over books and laptops, running on nothing but coffee and snacks from the small café. In the end, they had compromised; superheroes, like MJ had wanted, but something a little more... realistic.
They were recreating a superheroes origin. Running through the science, the tech - basically seeing if they could do it. How much of what made a superhero was chance and freak accident, and how much of it was actual, hard science.
Most of it was theoretical, of course, as they didn't have access to things like nuclear waste and billion dollar facilities.
But MJ had pushed for one thing - one superhero she wanted to focus on.
Spiderman.
Peter had seemed nervous. Unsure. And MJ couldn't blame him - this was a hard project, and they were attempting to invent things that had literally only been created by geniuses. Of course, their main focus was the spider-silk - could they replicate it? From footage of battles it was plain to see that Spiderman had. Originally, there appeared to have been some crude versions of the ones incorporated into the suit by Tony Stark. So they knew that it was purely made, not biological.
Peter had, by miracle or coincidence, managed to pull it off. He had made a substance - a primitive version of Spiderman's spider-silk - that, while MJ wouldn't trust her life to it, was truly impressive.
MJ had begun work on the web shooters, and had come up with a rough base that Peter had helped her refine. Then, she'd moved into production: she knew that one of the most important parts of the project was presentation.
They had to wow the judges. Confidence to the max and the graphs, pictures, holograms and tech prototypes to back that. It had to look pretty. It had to look like something out of a superhero movie. (It was something out of a superhero movie.)
Which was why MJ was busy hand-lettering a title board with their project name, while Peter glued poster board backed squares of paper to their project board.
"I feel like we're missing something," MJ said, more to herself than anything else. "We've got the spider-silk, I've written out a complete analysis of it's properties, uses and origins, I've compared it to real spider's silk, we have the web-shooters set up... I've written and rewritten our essay, and you've proof read it - Do you think - "
" - MJ," Peter interrupted, an exasperated but fond look on his face. "It's fine. We've gone over this hundreds of times. Our project is as close to perfect as it's ever gonna be."
"I guess..." MJ said, still not convinced. "We have gone over the checklist, right? Because we should at least once before we do it the final time."
"We've gone over the checklist AT LEAST three times," Peter said. "Come on, MJ, a guy has to sleep sometimes. I think my bed's forgotten that I exist."
Her eyes met his, and suddenly MJ was trying very hard not to think about Peter in his bed, sleeping... His hair would probably go all curly, and she would bet that he snored. But in a soft, cute way.
Blushing a little, she shook her head. Where had those thoughts come from? She didn't - she couldn't - like Peter. He was Peter.
She was just tired. She didn't actually... well.
"Yeah," MJ found herself saying. "Sleep does sound like a good idea."
Judging by Peter's face, he was just as surprised as she was. MJ wasn't exactly known for taking breaks, at least not when she was into a project. She tended to get a little... obsessive.
But she was clearly very, very, overtired if she was having those sorts of thoughts about Peter.
Better to get a good nights' sleep and start again in the morning.
The morning of the science fair dawned rainy and gray, as MJ (up at a truly ungodly hour) stood with the throng of nervous students waiting for the bus that would take them to the convention centre that hosted the State-Wide Science Fair every year.
MJ tapped her foot nervously. Everything they'd done... Months of work and all that stress (not to mention money) riding on this moment... It was almost to much to handle.
She nearly dropped the garbage bag-wrapped display board in her arms when Peter came up beside her suddenly, carrying a box piled high with materials.
"Hey, MJ," he said, looking just as tired as she felt.
"Hey." She shifted her load onto her hip, brushing rain drops out of her eyes. "Did you sleep well last night?"
"So so," he said, and smiled faintly. "You?"
"Oh, great," she said. Peter laughed.
Her sleep had been fragmented, bits and pieces of dreams swirling nonsensically around in her mind. She'd dreamt of darkness, of swirling lights and falling buildings and a voice calling her name. She'd had dreams like this ever since she'd been shot. A mild form of PTSD, and she was lucky it wasn't worse.
Something must have shown in her eyes, because Peter paled. MJ knew he had, misguidedly, felt guilty for what had happened to her. She wasn't sure why, but sometimes it was like that after an accident.
At first, he'd been weird and distant and she'd been angry, but then Ned had pulled her aside and explained how Peter felt guilty, felt like he should have been walking her home or something.
Which was a nice thought, even if MJ didn't need or want a protector. Still, she knew it had been hard for both Peter and Ned. It had shattered the illusion of safety and immortality they'd carried around with them before. Nothing like this had ever happened; nothing like this was ever supposed to.
MJ had always known it was different for her, her gender and the colour of her skin marking her as other. But it hadn't seemed as real before this. She knew that they had no proof that the shooter had targeted her because of her race, but she'd also heard what the police officers and the hospital staff had whispered. Knew why the police had closed the case so soon.
She knew that if it had been Peter who was shot, the police wouldn't have stopped until they'd found the shooter. And she knew that Peter knew it too, knew that it made him guilty. He always had such a black and white view of the world. Good guys and bad guys. In his mind, justice should always be fair, and he hated that it wasn't.
"I -" he stuttered.
"I'm fine, Peter," she said. She didn't have the energy to have this conversation again.
"Right," he said, looking uncertain. She smiled.
"We just have to do a really good job today, okay?"
"Sure thing, boss." He saluted jokingly, nearly dropping the box that represented months of their lives.
"Whoops," he said, catching it adeptly, then turned back to MJ and smiled. "See? I've got it all under control."
"Right." She shook her head.
The rumble of the bus as it crunched over the gravel parking lot cut their conversation off. MJ inhaled exhaust fumes and thought fondly of the day when school buses would just be a distant memory: she loved school, but being packed on a loud, smelly, germ-covered bus with a bunch of screaming teens was not her idea of a good time.
The drive was hazy, and MJ spent most of it going over her speaking points in her head. Beside her, Peter slept, cardboard box carefully balanced on his knees.
MJ stared out the window. The trees stood stark against the sky, a brisk breeze whipping the thin branches and sending the rain spattering sideways against the glass.
The air - as thick as it was inside the bus - felt still. Expectant. But as MJ drifted off into a hazy, uncertain sleep, she couldn't help but hope for more - hope that this time, everything would go to plan. This time, she wouldn't have to worry.
She didn't believe in God, but she sent a prayer up to whomever might be listening anyways.
Please, she begged. Please let this work.
Okay, okay - so I know that this is sort of a filler chapter. But I'm back now! Thankfully uneaten by bears! Or bugs, or anything else.
I hope it's pretty clear that I'm writing this fic based off of the newer Spiderman movies, with MJ being played by Zendaya. I don't think I really properly addressed the realities that MJ, as a black girl, would face after she was shot. I hope I did a better job of that in this chapter. I support Black Lives Matter, and I want my writing to reflect that.
Also, 11k views? 268 votes? You guys are totally amazing! I never even could've imagined this fic passing 10k. It's honestly incredible.
-Viwrit3r