A Bad Idea (Spideychelle)

Ch. 21: That Ship Sailed Away

Peter POV

My phone started ringing pretty early in the morning. Like, sun's-just-starting-to-light-up-the-skyline early. I would've just declined the call if it weren't for a picture of Mr. Stark and I that popped up on my screen.

MJ squirmed next to me, stirring, so I quickly answered.

"Hey," I whispered.

"We need you at the base. Pronto."

"Why- what's- did something happen?"

"No, I'm calling you upstate at the asscrack of dawn over nothing. Yes, something happened. Can you be here by seven?"

I glanced at the time. "Yeah. Yeah, okay, I'll be there."

"Bring the suit. Get here safe, kid. I'll see you soon."

Click.

I started to get out of bed, but MJ was still wrapped around me, face scrunched in her sleep from being disturbed.

Gently, I pulled her arms away, but she slowly blinked her eyes open.

"Hey," I whispered, "go back to sleep."

"Where're you going?" she asked.

"Mr. Stark needs me at the compound. I'll see you at school tomorrow, okay?"

She nodded sleepily. "Mkay."

I got out of the bed and tucked her back in, watching her nuzzle into the pillow with a soft smile.

Every cell in my body wanted to get back into bed and kiss her and tell her how much I loved her, but I couldn't.

I had to go.

My hand lingered a moment on her shoulder before I remembered my deadline, and climbed out her window.

MJ POV

When I woke up, Peter was gone. I had a vague memory of him saying he'd see me tomorrow, but I figured it was a dream until I realized he probably had to go pretty early.

My phone buzzed on my desk, so I got up and checked it.

Dad: Your uncle and I are on our way.

Dad: I hope you're a little less hostile today.

I felt my chest seize up.

Me: understood.

I cleaned up around the apartment as quickly as possible, and got ready, taking a shower and putting on something I knew Uncle Antonio would like.

My skin crawled the whole time, and my stomach did Olympic-level flips, and all I wanted to do was call Peter and beg him to save me, somehow.

But he was busy. And this was my job. Clean. Play dress up. Mentally reorganize my art portfolio while Uncle Antonio does whatever he wants to me.

This is my job. This is my job. This is my job.

By the time the front door opened, I was sitting on the couch, hands folded in my lap, wearing a silk robe. The apartment was spotless.

"Hello, Michelle," Dad said, his voice ice cold. "Glad to see you've kept the place tidy."

I took in a breath as Uncle Antonio entered after him. "You clean up nice," he remarked, eyes on me rather than the apartment.

"Thank you."

"I'll be in my room, going over some paperwork." Dad shot me a look that screamed "behave yourself" as he left the room.