Spiderman: Finding Home

Chapter 14

MJ'S POV

The sound of Peter snoring softly in her ear was what woke Michelle up the following morning. She couldn't remember falling asleep, but she felt better rested than she had in a while as she blinked her eyes open.

Michelle and Peter are facing each other, their arms around each other's waists with his head slightly tucked under hers; his warm breath skating across her shoulders. She considers pulling away, but she allows herself a few moments to simply relax as her mind begins to filter through the disaster that was yesterday. She expected to feel embarrassed about how emotional she had been, but the feeling never arose. She expected to feel anger towards her mother and David but even as it stirred awake in her chest, it did not feel overly overwhelming. She knew she'd have to get up and face the problems of the day soon, but she awarded herself a few moments to breath and just be.

Peter's snoring began to give way to shallow breathing as he began to stir awake. He let out a groan as he awoke, pulling away from her as he yawned and rubbed his eyes. Michelle chose just to watch him.

"Morning," his voice cracked from the night of rest as his head hit the pillow beside hers again.

"Morning," she returned softly before deciding to sit up.

Her hair was a mess. Usually, she ties it back before going to sleep but she didn't have the foresight last night. Her fingers absentmindedly beginning to untangle it as she peered around the apartment.

Last night she was a little too distracted to take in her surroundings properly, but the morning light enabled her to appraise the room thoughtfully.

She did not know much about Mrs Parker, but it made sense that she would be artistic. The walls were covered in a mix of photographs and different works of art including paintings and sketches. She noted a basket full of yarn and the corresponding knitting needles beside the TV and looked at the coffee table which was obviously hand-painted. On one of the legs, she spied two handprints, each signed with a name. The larger was May's. The smaller was Peter's. It must have been made a few years ago.

Her eyes were pulled back to Peter who was continually yawning.

"Did you sleep at all," her nose wrinkled. "What's wrong with you?"

"Sorry," he said bashfully as he also sat up, raking his fingers through his tousled hair like she was doing to hers. "I'm always a mess in the morning."

She wanted to say something snarky, but she was stopped when Peter hesitantly reached a hand towards her face.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, but he didn't move his hand. Instead, he leant forward to pluck something from her hair. She looked down to find some fluff and giggled. "I'm always getting shit stuck in my hair."

"I wonder why," he grinned at her, appraising her messy hair. "It's like a bird took up residence in there."

"Shut up," she shoved him a little but he just shrugged.

"I like it though."

She rolled her eyes, but her chest felt a little warmer and she gave him a short smile, not quite meeting his eyes.

"Thanks, Parker. You're on your own in that opinion."

She was suddenly aware of how close they were. They were both sitting up, facing each other. His knees were just about touch her own and thanks to his hair plucking, his hands pressed into the mattress on either side of her legs.

Holy shit.

He appeared to come to the same realisation as she did, warmth beginning to flush up his neck, turning his usual parlour into a rouge one. She fully expected him to pull away, but he didn't. He maintained eye contact with her, and she was determined not to be the first to break it. She was brave.