Through the Window | Peter x Mj

Science

      To say Peter's idea didn't go according to plan would be a vast understatement. The after school Tuesday adventure never happened. The date he spent two hours going over with May to make sure everything was perfect, vanished right before his eyes. That was hours ago.  He doesn't know what time it is or how long it's been since he freed himself from the burning rubble. It's dark and everything hurts.

     All he knows is he needs to get to MJ, he needs to explain, to apologize. The taste of blood on his tongue makes his stomach churn. He manages to stumble and swing, taking short breaks to fall to his knees on various rooftops across Queens. He's just trying to make it to her. He has to.

Covered in sweat, soot, blood and who knows what else, with every inch of his body aching or stinging, he finally slaps a hand against the familiar window. He grips it, gloved fingers stiff and aching as he lifts. Left shoulder screaming in protest when he crawls through, Peter briefly catches a glimpse of her as she helps drag him in.

Of all the graceful entrances he's made, this is not one. He lands in a thump, hands and knees digging into her rug and he can hear her, the worry in her words as she drops next to him. The softness of her hands pressing and pulling and everything is too much.

"M'sorry." He rolls to his back and before he can tug the mask off, MJ does it for him. "Sorry...about the-"

"Shut up, just...shut up."

He does for a second, watching her as she leans over. He can feel her hands skating over the suit and see that her eyes are frantic, searching. This isn't the first time he's crawled into her room with various wounds but it's probably the first time he's this badly injured.

"MJ, I-"

"You're bleeding and I'm mad so you don't get to talk right now."

"Oh, is that why I feel like shit?" She doesn't laugh, her eyes narrow at him and Peter reaches up to brush his thumb over her cheek. "I'm okay. Your hair...looks nice."

"You're bleeding out on my rug and clearly delirious. Take the suit off." She's serious, too serious so he does. He taps the emblem on his chest, he lets her peel the fabric of it off and only groans when her fingers pass over the flesh that's scraped raw down his side. "Sorry, I'm so sorry. I know that hurt."

He doesn't want her to apologize but the world is a little fuzzy and he can't figure out the words he wants to tell her. He stays still, watching her eyes fill, watching her disappear and come back. He could watch her forever, the sleek line of her neck, the curve of her jaw, the focus furrowing her brow. Except he can't. He can't because his eyes keep closing and she keeps calling his name.

"Peter, I swear if you-" He gently tugs the end of the braid hanging over her shoulder and doesn't hear the rest.
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Michelle stands at the bathroom sink, rinsing the red and pink stained suds from her palms. This isn't exactly how she thought date night would turn out. She didn't really think she'd be stitching up her dumb superhero boyfriend while he's passed out on her floor. She reaches for the soap again, scrubs her hands one more time. There was so much blood.

Her lungs are burning, chest aching and raw with the thought of how this is different. This time it's different. This isn't a scrape, a puncture wound, or some bruised ribs. He's never passed out before, he's never barely made it through her window and just collapsed. She hurriedly dries her hands, swipes a rag over her face to erase the evidence of the tears she's shed and heads back to her bedroom without glancing in the mirror. MJ doesn't want to look at her reflection.

She watched the news, she saw everything. The moment the building collapsed, her heart had seized in her chest. She's never watching the news again when Peter is involved. It's too stressful. Sometimes it's just better to not know and to stay hopeful.