Chapter Text
“And so, my fellow graduates—” MJ squints as she lifts her eyes up to glance at the crowd, the hot summer sun beating down on her face—“I won’t take up any more of your time.”
She clears her throat as she continues. “But I will say this,” she says, turning to the last page of her speech—an action that echoes the way today feels, like the last page in a book, the last line in a story—“go out there and do your best. Or your absolute worst, I don’t really care.”
She smiles when she hears the muted chuckle ripple through the crowd.
“Either way, have fun doing it. Try to make the world a little better along the way. Thank you and congratulations, class of 2008,” she ends, swallowing with relief as she stacks up the papers of her speech and prepares to leave the podium.
“Woo! Yeah!”
MJ’s head jolts up, her brows furrowing at the sudden outburst from amidst the crowd. She tilts her head to the side, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips when her narrowed eyes land on that guy she was on the decathlon team with in freshman year. He’s standing up from his seat, cheering and clapping for her like she just finished accepting an Oscar, not giving an overlong valedictorian speech.
Peter Parker. They hardly spoke when they were in decathlon—he was more interested in her friend, Liz. After Liz left school, Peter dropped out of decathlon, and now MJ picks and chooses when she can be bothered to say a quick ‘hi’ when she brushes past him in the hall.
She only really remembers his name because she hears it being yelled by teachers every time he bursts into class twenty minutes late. He’s an educator’s nightmare. (Peter Parker remains the only kid in Midtown history to receive a detention while in detention—which MJ has to admit she finds a little impressive. Especially since his GPA is second only to her own.)
Peter claps with the full force of his hands and soon enough the applause catches on, trickling in like the pitter patter of rain, getting fuller and heavier as more hands join in.
MJ feels her cheeks get impossibly hotter as she ducks her head and smiles, walking swiftly off the podium and going to take her seat.
“Thank you, Miss Watson,” Mr Nguyen says as he takes her place on stage, his lips too close to the microphone and causing a shrill feedback sound to reverberate through the open air. “That was a wonderful speech. Now, next on the agenda…”
His voice trails off into obscurity when MJ chances a glance over her right shoulder and sees Peter grinning at her from four rows behind. She can only see half of his face—the other half being covered by the cap of the person sitting in front of him—but she doesn’t miss the way he winks at her like a fool. She snorts out a laugh, shaking her head and rolling her eyes as she faces forward.
As she zones back in on Mr Nguyen’s voice she tries to ignore the weird, barely noticeable fluttering in her stomach.
Graduation ceremonies are way too long. By the time the speeches are done and all the names are called and the thing is finally coming to an end, MJ’s surprised no one has passed out from heatstroke.
And then there’s the pictures. Endless, countless amounts of pictures while MJ poses with a rolled up piece of blank paper that’s supposed to resemble a real high school diploma. It’s so hot that she’s sweating around the rim of her cap, and she can almost hear the static of her edges curling up from the moisture, ruining the silk press that she’d let Gayle talk her into getting.
“Okay, Pumpkin, now one with your sister,” her dad says, lowering the camera from his face and nudging Gayle over.
MJ sighs, shifting on her feet as Gayle makes her way over to stand beside her. She rolls her eyes as her sister lets out a predictable tut, reaching up to attempt to smooth down the edges of MJ’s hair with the pads of her fingers.
In the corner of her eye she catches sight of Peter, flushed and rolling his own eyes the same way MJ had just rolled hers as the woman she vaguely knows to be his aunt is currently licking her thumb and using it to smooth out his eyebrows for his pictures.
MJ snorts out a quiet laugh, her lips pursing as she watches him in the distance, lifting a hand to shield his face from any more touch ups.
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing.”
Gayle glances in Peter’s direction, her lips twitching up into a smirk. “That your little boyfriend or something?” she teases.
MJ scowls at her. “No. I barely know the guy.” And it’s the truth, but unfortunately that simple fact doesn’t do much for the way MJ feels her cheeks heat up.
Gayle’s smirk turns into a full grin. “Then explain why you’re blushing.”
“Because it’s like a million degrees out here, damn,” MJ complains, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead.
“Don’t do that, Mimi, you’ll mess up your brows.”
MJ sucks in a breath, her eyes widening when she sees Flash walk by, a lifeline on legs. “Oh, look, there’s my friend. I’m just gonna…” she trails off, jabbing her thumb in Flash’s direction as she begins to walk across the grass to get to him, not waiting to hear whatever protest her sister or parents might put up.
She nods upwards at Flash when he glances up from his phone and catches her eye. “Loser,” she greets.
“Dickwad.” He nods back at her. “Happy last day in this hellhole.”
MJ smirks. “Right back at you.” She glances around, a crease settling between her brows when she notices something. “Your…your parents around?” she asks, keeping her tone light.
Flash clears his throat, flushing as he shakes his head. “Nah. Told them not to come. These things are fucking useless anyway.”
MJ nods slowly, a little pinch in her chest as they pointedly avoid each other’s gaze so as not to acknowledge the fact that he knows that she knows he’s lying.
“Totally useless,” she agrees. “But, um, you wanna maybe come eat with us?” She gestures over to where her family is waiting for her. “I’m not sure where we’re going but…I think it’ll at least be somewhere better than Olive Garden.”
Flash seems to consider it for just a fraction of a second before quickly shaking his head. “Nah, it’s cool,” he replies. “But, er, you’re still coming to the party tonight right?”
MJ gives him a lopsided smile as she begins to slowly step backwards. “A cesspool of freshly graduated high schoolers looking to sow all their wild oats before heading off to college?” she says with fake enthusiasm. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Never have I ever…” Betty hums, “used someone else’s toothbrush.”
Peter and Ned both bring their cups of too-strong punch up to their lips.
Betty’s eyes widen, her lips curling downwards at the corners. “Gross!” she spits. “You’ve both used someone else’s toothbrush? Who’s?”
Peter shrugs, snorting out a laugh when he and Ned wordlessly point at each other in tandem.
“Ugh.” Betty shakes her head. “You’re literally an old married couple. I can’t.”
Peter tips his head back against the kitchen cabinet and laughs. He’s sitting on the marble counter in Flash’s second kitchen. (He has no clue why anyone needs a second kitchen. The kitchen in his and May’s apartment is a quarter of this size and also attached to the living room, and it works just fine. Granted, neither of them really actually cook in it.)
The bass of the loud music vibrates beneath him as the alcohol buzzes through his veins. It’s his fourth time drinking in his life, and he’s had more to drink in the short space of time that he’s been here than he ever has before. And while the effect of the alcohol is different for him than it is for regular people—slower to kick in, quicker to fade—the thrill of it hasn’t quite worn off yet.
Ned laughs, knocking his elbow against Peter’s knee. “All right, hubby, your turn.”
“Okay,” Peter chuckles, thinking of a statement that’s perfectly tailored to target Betty (who is too much of a goody-two-shoes to have barely drank at all since they started playing this game). “Er…never have I ever…blocked the toilet at my ex boyfriend’s house and blamed it on his grandma.”
Betty turns white as a sheet as she looks up at him with parted lips. “Oh my—”
“What the fuck?” Ned frowns, turning to her with a disgusted look on his face. “That was you?”
“That was supposed to be a secret ,” Betty hisses in Peter’s direction. “Ned, I’m sorry, I panicked!”
“Dude! We had to call a fucking plumber!”
Peter cackles as he watches the two of them go back and forth, sipping at his drink and swinging his legs gleefully back and forward.
Until his eyes catch the silhouette at the entrance to the kitchen and his movements pause.
He blinks, drowning out the sounds of his friends’ voices as MJ Watson trails into the kitchen, making a beeline for the punch bowl. He’d known she was here, caught glimpses of her from across the room and heard Flash call her name once or twice, but this is the first time he’s seeing her here in such close proximity.
And she looks stunning. A short black skirt paired with a t-shirt touting the name of some band or artists that Peter has never heard of, her usual curly hair straight today, touching the middle of her back as she flicks at it with long fingers.
He can’t take his eyes off her. It’s weird because they’ve somehow managed to get through the entirety of their high school existence without ever becoming more than casual hallway greeters—with the odd whispered request to borrow a pen in chemistry class. But recently he’s started noticing her more, started wondering if she notices him at all.
He’s not sure if it’s a crush. Sure, she’s hot, but mainly he thinks he just finds her interesting. And he kind of feels like today is the last day he can do anything about it.
He tosses back the rest of his drink and hops down off of the counter. “Gonna get a refill,” he says, patting Ned on the shoulder as he weaves his way through the people crammed into the kitchen to get to the punch bowl.
His fingers brush against MJ’s as they both reach for the ladle at the same time.
“Oh, sorry—”
“No, my bad—”
“Let me—” he nods toward her empty cup— “get that for you.”
“Oh,” she says, holding it out to him as he scoops up a healthy serving of punch for her, “thank you.”
“No worries.” Peter smiles, filling her cup until she stops him, then moving onto his own. She waits, lingering beside him as he does and he takes his time with it, somehow feeling like maybe it’ll make her stick around longer. “Loved your speech,” he says after a moment, bringing his cup up to his lips.
MJ gives him a half-smile, nodding her head as she gazes at him with soft brown eyes. “I gathered.”
Something about the way she’s looking at him makes Peter’s face feel hot. Or maybe it’s just the alcohol. Either way, he takes another quick sip of his drink.
“Plans for college?” he asks after a moment of silence filled only by the sound of T-Pain’s auto-tuned voice booming through the house.
MJ leans back on the kitchen counter, clutching her cup to her chest. “MIT.”
Peter feels a little pang in his chest. The same one he feels every time he hears Ned mention Boston. He plasters on a smile, nodding once. “Same as Ned.”
“So I’ve heard,” MJ replies, her gaze fixed on his. “What about you?”
Peter shrugs, running the pads of his fingers up and down the grooves on his cup. “ESU.”
“Nice. Any idea what you wanna major in?”
“Thinking robotics. You?”
“Psychology.” A beat. “In short.”
Peter smiles, a puff of breath escaping his nose as he takes half a step closer to her. “And in long?”
MJ lets out a quiet laugh, flicking her hair back off her shoulder. “Brain and Cognitive—”
“Cognitive Sciences,” Peter finishes for her, nodding his head. “Yeah. That’s…that’s really cool.”
MJ hums inquisitively. “You’ve looked into MIT?”
“Thought about it.”
“But?”
But…when it came down to it Peter simply couldn’t see himself leaving the city. He’d had all these grandiose plans, to still be Spider-Man over in Boston, to just pick up his life and transport it over there and keep on living like nothing had changed.
But he’d soon realised that the ties that bind him to New York aren’t dissolvable like the webs he shoots from his wrists. The things holding him down in New York—May, Spider-Man, his responsibilities, his memories—they’re so strong that he’s realised he can’t escape them without leaving bits and pieces of himself behind.
No matter how much he wants to follow Ned to MIT.
He gives her a tight-lipped smile, and hopes it doesn’t look as sad as it feels. “New York’s my home,” he says simply.
“Well, you won’t be alone,” MJ says after a moment of studying him, presumably coming to the conclusion that being lonely here is what he’s afraid of. “Flash is going to ESU, too.”
Peter scoffs. “Pretty sure Flash hates me. The only reason I’m still at this party is because he was already half drunk when I got here and mistook me for Jimmy Landon.”
MJ tilts her head to the side. “Jimmy Landon, the kid who transferred out of Midtown like eight months ago?”
“Yep.”
“Huh.” She narrows her eyes at him. “Actually, I think I see the resemblance.”
Peter blinks at her blankly. “He was like five-foot-nothing with blond hair and green eyes.”
“Huh,” MJ repeats, her frown deepening. “I don’t know, maybe you both just have the same vibe.”
“I’ve been told I have a ‘drowned rat’ quality.”
MJ clicks her fingers. “Exactly.”
Peter lifts a middle finger in front of her face as she laughs, a smile spreading across his lips.
“Besides,” she continues, “Flash doesn’t hate you. Actually, he’s probably just a dick to you because he thinks you’re cool.”
“Mmm.” Peter raises a brow as he brings his cup to his lips. “He pulls my pigtails because he likes me? Not very progressive of you.”
MJ rolls her eyes, huffing out a laugh, and only when he feels the gentle touch of her breath against his upper lip does he realise that the space between them has been slowly decreasing.
“I’m just saying,” she shrugs, “he’s…softer than he seems.”
Peter doesn’t have the capacity to stop and think about what that might mean right now, but he files the statement away for later. “Maybe.”
Silence hovers between them for a moment before MJ takes a breath to speak. “Anyway—”
Peter winces at the way her tone signifies an end to their conversation.
“—I’m…sure you’ll do great at ESU,” she finishes.
Peter nods quickly, swallowing. “Yeah, er, you too. At MIT. They’re lucky to have you. I mean, you’re objectively the smartest person in school so…”
MJ smiles, a soft laugh escaping her as she shakes her head. “Thanks.” She takes a slow step backwards, raises her red cup to him. “Happy graduation day, Peter Parker.”
He raises his cup back to her, tilting his head. “Happy graduation day.” And then she’s leaving, weaving her way through the crowd and Peter’s mouth moves before his brain can catch up. “Hey, er, MJ?” he calls after her.
She turns back around. He doesn’t know what he had intended to say. All he knows is that she’s walking away and he really, really doesn’t want her to.
“Yeah?”
Face-to-face with her again his mind suddenly goes blank. He panics for a moment, wracks his brain for something to say, and in a hurry, pulls some random fact out of his ass just to impress her. Or at least make her laugh. (Or, if he’s lucky, both.)
“You know, it’s not just graduation day today.”
MJ narrows her eyes at him. “What else is it?”
“World UFO day,” he says—a fact some six year old had excitedly told Spider-Man when he’d been on patrol this morning.
She snorts out a laugh, brows drawing together. “Thank you…for the most useless piece of information I’ve gotten all day,” she replies without bite.
Peter grins. “Anytime.” He takes a slow step towards her, his gaze dropping to her lips as he shrugs his shoulder. “I guess all that’s left for us to decide now is how we commemorate this really special occasion.”
MJ drums her fingers against the side of her plastic cup. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
MJ doesn’t know how this happened. It most definitely was not on her bingo card for tonight. But somehow she’s holed up in Flash’s bedroom, underneath Peter Parker, the bass from the speakers vibrating the walls as he sucks a hickey into her neck and leaves delicate half-moons in her waist with his fingers.
They’d talked some more, had another couple drinks in honour of World UFO Day (which she still hasn’t told him she’s pretty sure is actually next month), and when he’d leaned in and kissed her, his lips were so warm and sweet that she couldn’t bring herself to pull back even if she’d wanted to.
And good thing—because she definitely hadn’t wanted to. Gentle but insistent kisses had turned to making out, and the making out had soon turned heated, and the heat had led them to scour the too-big house for somewhere, anywhere they could get their hands on each other without an audience of drunken revellers.
“This okay?” he pants against her skin as he lifts her skirt a little.
MJ nods quickly, swallows as her fingers thread their way into his hair. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s fine. It’s good.”
They’re not even doing anything yet. Not really. Just semi-drunken, heated kissing with wandering hands. But every time his skin touches hers it feels a little electric.
His hands are surer than Brad’s—the only point of comparison she has—but still hesitant as they roam her body. She’s heard about him and a couple other people from school, knows that he’s done this before, but it’s comforting to know that he maybe hasn’t done it that much, not so much to make her feel out of her depth.
Peter pulls back from her persistent kisses to look down at her, his brown eyes glazed and wide in the dark as his fingers find the edge of her underwear. “Is this—”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s—” she’s interrupted by the sudden sound of the door handle shaking across the room, and when Peter springs off of her she hears the jangle of his undone belt buckle and wonders when she’d done that.
“Yo, why is this door locked?”
“Shit,” MJ breathes, eyes wide when she hears Flash’s voice from the other side of the door.
Peter snorts out a laugh, hopping up from the bed and redoing his belt as MJ follows his lead and attempts to right herself.
“Whoever’s in there, you better not be getting fucking nasty in my bed!”
“Stop!” MJ hisses, reaching over to slap Peter on the arm when she hears him cackling like a child. But she’s laughing too, despite herself and the situation she’s unwittingly found herself in—something about the air around Peter makes her feel like she’s high.
MJ smooths down her hair, Peter reaching out to help her but doing more harm than good. She bats his hands away, rolling her eyes at the lopsided smile he gives her before straightening her skirt and making her way to the door.
Peter bolts as soon as she unlocks and opens it, running down the hall and round the corner so fast she actually sees the wind he generates blow Flash’s hair back.
MJ clears her throat, leaning against the doorframe with a smile, aiming for casual. “Hey Flash, how’s it going?”
“Really?” Flash says incredulously, pointing in the direction that Peter had just escaped in. “Penis Parker?”
“What?” MJ shrugs innocently. “I was just trying to find out why you call him that.”
Flash’s mouth falls open, but before he can say anything else Peter reappears clutching her purse, just long enough to grab MJ by the hand and pull her away with him.
“Sorry!” MJ calls over her shoulder as she sprints to keep up. “Important business to tend to!”
“MJ!”
She laughs giddily, ignoring Flash’s voice calling after her as Peter leads her through the house. There’s really no reason to be running, but they’re still a little drunk and it’s really fun, and MJ couldn’t care less about how stupid they must look.
“Well,” she chokes out once they’re out in the driveway, breathless and giggling, “he’s never gonna let me live that down.”
Peter laughs heartily, shaking his head. “My bad.”
Silence settles between them once the laughter tapers off, and the way Peter’s looking at her makes MJ’s heart race.
“Um,” she breathes, “well, on that note I should really—”
“Come back to my place?” Peter bursts, taking a quick step closer to her. His eyes are wide and hopeful as his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. “My aunt’s not home and…maybe we can finish what we started? I’d…” he lets out a soft breath, offers her a nervous smile, “I’d really like to finish what we started.”
And MJ is tempted. It’s officially her first night of freedom, she’s still a little wired, the warm summer air is sweet and so, it seems, is Peter (she has a feeling that he might be even sweeter in bed), but—
But. Reason takes hold of her, much to her own disappointment. She’s sobering, and the buzz from Flash’s bedroom has simmered, and it occurs to her that sleeping with Peter Parker tonight is probably a bad idea. She doesn’t know him well—at all, really—but she’s always gotten the sense that he’s…complicated. Which, objectively, isn’t a problem, but for MJ it feels like a non-starter, given the fact that she often feels like her own life is already complicated enough.
It’s almost midnight. And while she’s sure Flash’s party won’t be ending any time soon, she’s about ready to call it a night, knowing that her parents will be waiting up for her (even though they’d said they wouldn’t).
MJ lets out a quiet breath that mingles with the soft summer-night breeze. “Um—”
Peter shakes his head immediately, saving her the trouble of having to find the words to turn him down. “That’s… It’s okay.”
And he must be a good actor because MJ doesn’t catch a glimpse of disappointment on his face as he smiles at her. She’s about to hit him back with something teasing, like I know it’s okay, but he looks so soft and sincere that she takes pity on him.
MJ nods. “Thanks.”
“Can I walk you home at least?” he asks. “I’m not trying to…” he shakes his head again, “I mean, it’s late—”
“I’m a big girl.” MJ smiles, eyes narrowed as she takes a step backwards. “But thanks for your offer.”
Peter nods. “Anytime.”
“Good luck at ESU,” she says, really just for the sake of having something to say.
“Good luck at MIT.”
“Thanks,” MJ replies. And there isn’t much else to say but for some reason her feet don’t want to move. She takes a second, just to commit this moment to memory for no reason other than it just…feels nice. Then, after a moment, and with a last smile, she turns around and begins to walk away.
Peter stays where he is, watches her go—she knows that because she doesn’t hear him move an inch—and it feels like he’s waiting for something. What, she doesn’t know, but for some reason she finds herself turning her head back over her shoulder and saying, “Keep in touch, Parker.”
She’s aware he doesn’t have her number, she doesn’t have his, and the link of mutual friends they share is tenuous at best, but despite all that, he smiles at her, nods his head and says, “I will.”
And she believes him somehow, her smile spreading as she turns around and starts to make her way home.