a tipping scale

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Summary: She knew about Peter's sixth sense (the one that May called his Peter Tingle), but she hadn't really thought about the possibility of a seventh sense. One that was uniquely tuned in to her, apparently.


New York City was as predictable as a weather report which, on a sunny November evening, wasn't saying much. For the most part, Michelle could never be too sure what she would encounter on her daily commute from her apartment to her office, but there were some things she could swear by.

The little push-cart coffee stand she walked past every morning always had a line of at least three people, but sometimes there would be a man with blood on his face in the subway. On her way home, it took her exactly 27 minutes to walk from her desk to her apartment door, even if she had to cross the street on the other side because Spider-Man was taking up the entire sidewalk to tie up some robbers. These nights, it was up in the air as to whether Peter was bleeding when he eventually crawled through the window to their apartment or if he was relatively unscathed.

There were bits and pieces of her daily routine and New York City that would never change just like there were things like aliens and bloodied subway riders that added a bit of spice to it. There was exactly one thing, however, that Michelle could always, 100% rely on no matter how routine or strange her morning commute was: the seemingly chronic problem of night-time muggings.

She'd left the office late, which was more of an excuse than a defense. By the time she'd turned the lock and slipped the keys (given to her by her boss so he could leave early) into her bag, the sun was gone and it was closer to seven o'clock than it was to six, the time she'd told Peter she'd actually be getting home.

Michelle could do nothing if not multitask, though, so as she jogged down the stairs and pulled her coat around her tighter, she pressed on Peter's contact to let him know she was finally on her way home.

The phone rang once before she was met with the sound of rushing wind followed Peter's excited cry of "MJ! Hi! Hello!" that told her all she needed to know.

"You're out already?" She tried not to sound too disappointed, but she'd had a long day and she'd been looking forward to having dinner with Peter before he left for the evening.

"I know and I'm so sorry," Peter said over the wind, "I just―I figured I could go out early since you'd be back late and then I'd be home early, you know?"

She couldn't stop the soft smile that crept onto her face. Even though she was tired and she'd missed Peter more than should be possible for just a single day, she did appreciate the thought of an early night in. When they'd first started dating years ago, she hadn't anticipated just how big of an influence his patrol schedule would have on her sleeping habits.

"It's alright," she assured him, "I'm only just now leaving, so it was probably a good plan."

She could hear him grinning as he said, "Yeah? See, sometimes I have good ideas."

With a laugh, she agreed and crossed the street as the light changed. The walk home would be 27 minutes (if she was lucky) and the apartment would be empty, so she humored Peter when he launched into an argument about how he really did have good ideas and "Not just about patrol, MJ. About real life things too."

"I want examples, Parker," she said, biting back a laugh when he started listing them off.

His voice over her phone kept her company for three blocks before he broke off to help a lady with her bag down the subway stairs. When his chatter was once again directed at her, it took her a second to realize it.

"Em?"

"Sorry?" She shook her head, scurrying across a crosswalk as the stoplight changed from red to green.

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