Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Fuck you."

She didn't know what made her more nauseous; the situation Peter put her in or how cliche it was that she was saying that while exiting his apartment building onto the down poured crusty side walks of Queens.

Peter looked genuinely sad.

That makes two of us buddy.

"MJ, I never meant to-" and he did that, that thing that made it so damn hard for MJ to hate him right now. His face contorted into a sad frown, his hair was mopped up due to the rain that was pouring on them, and his hand was holding onto her elbow tightly as if that was the only way to keep her there.

Good luck with that shit head.

"Never meant to what? Lie to my face for a year? Disappear with no excuses and leave me worried for hours? You made me feel so idiotic wondering where you were and now I feel even more fucking dumb. No, no you don't get to do that. You fucking asshole," she lets out a frustrated groan and continues, "if you just told me maybe I wouldn't be this-," she tries to think of word that would surmise how she felt right now but Peter's puppy face was distracting her, "this hurt I feel right now."

She didn't know if she or Peter was crying but it sure felt and looked like it. It could just be the rain.

"You know what sucks the most? I know you never meant to hurt me, if you could, I'd never be hurt. I just- I just don't get why you," and she pauses because she's out of breath and she hates that it's because she's crying.

"I- I just need to get away from you right now. I need space. Air, I need air. Just leave me alone." She removes her elbow from his hold and ran.

She was bumping into people and she didn't really know where she was going but, she knew she was going farther away from Peter so she was fine with her current 'running in the rain' situation.

Fuck him. Fuck him and his lies. Fuck being stood up. Fuck him and his pretty face. Fuck him for making me unable to really hate him. Fuck him for making me lov-.

She should have thought 'fuck the truck for hitting me.'

From one cliché to the next.

It would be her to get hit by a truck the weekend before her Lit test. It would just be her luck.

They say when death comes at your front door, life flashes through.

It was true, she guesses. When she got hit, she didn't feel anything. It was her body going into shock or something.

She did see everything. Every memory that included him.

Fucking him.

From their study dates to Acadec tournaments. From her waiting at the Thai restaurant for him to appear to her waiting at the library for two hours to receive a text telling her he's sorry. From his constant apologizes and gaveling to her always forgiving him but not without giving him the silent and middle finger treatment for a day.

She appreciated what her brain did. It made the oddly comforting feel of lying down on the dirty road with water pelting at her and blood pooling out of her better.

She opens her eyes to a white light. It's like the world loves to throw cliches at her. It's blinding. She waits a few minutes for the pure whiteness to stop burning her eyes.

Someone please turn that shit off.

She can feel a thin piece of fabric barely on her but yet, she feels warm.

When her eyes have adjusted, she looks around the room.

She knows she's not Ms. Popular so she's surprised to see a ton of balloons with cards and flowers of baby's breath, her favorite, and she sees her parents sitting down at the chairs in the corner. Oddly enough, there was also Peter fucking Parker.

He's holding onto her hand and she realizes that's why she feels so warm. He looks so, and she swears to whoever is up there to not let anyone know, cute. She doesn't understand why she thinks that.

He's literally not even that cute. At least right now. He's slobbering all over her blanket but he looked so at peace that she didn't have the heart to kick him on the face.

She also didn't move her hand out of his grasp. Only because she had no energy and not because she was fine with whatever he was doing. Of course not.

She wakes up again and he's still there.

She really wonders how the hell he smells that good if he hadn't even changed his shirt.

That has to defy the laws of like everything.

He's reading "Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth" and she swears she's never seen him so attractive.

That thought itself was so weird. She never thought of Peter like that. If he ever heard that she would-.

He looks up from his book and meets her eyes.

She swears she sees his eyes water. It could have just been the white ass light.

"MJ? Oh my fucking-. Shit, what-? Do you-?". He's frantic, asking her questions left and right, and all she could do was tilt her head to the right.

"Chill," she coughs a bit, "the fuck out dim wit. I'll be fucking fine once I get some water."

He points to the glass of water on the bed side table and she nods so he brings it over.

He raises it to her lips before she could even touch the glass and its way too intimate for her. Way too much.

Is this what acquaintances at school do once one acquaintance is in the hospital?

She gulps it all down and he looks so happy that she's just there. It's oddly nice and she can't think of a reason why it feels nice.

He's smiling at her and she wants to smile back. She doesn't, but she, for some unknown reason, wants to smile back.

Absolutely disgustingly weird.

He's smiling one minute and the next he's leaning into her and she can feel his minty breath on her and she suddenly can't breathe.

He kisses her. Not make out type of kissing but just kisses her. Like he misses her or something. She doesn't realize that she was kissing him back till she was out of breath.

It was weird.

She hadn't even brushed her teeth.

Peter Parker is hereby declared as disgusting. A good kisser, but disgusting.

She pushes his shoulders back and says, "Woah there dweeb. Just because I'm in a hospital bed and just because you stayed here for who knows how long does not mean you get to pull that shit on me."

She tried to say it as strongly as she could but she was just a bit out of breath.

Damn Caucasian boys who kiss their acquaintances when they're in the hospital.

"I know, shit, I'm so-," and he looks like he's about to cry and MJ just awkwardly pats his shoulder since she couldn't reach his back.

"Dude. Stop, all you did was stand me up at the library. We can just finish the history presentation later. I bet Mrs. B-".

"Wait, what," he looks at her, searching her and he makes this confused face that she wants to punch. Well, she wants to punch it and kiss it, but that doesn't even matter. She doesn't like it. Not one bit.

"You know! The project on the families of royalty in each country. Remember? Jesus, Parker, I'm the one in the hospital bed. Shouldn't you be the one-".

She stops when she notices the look on his face. He's turned absolutely pale and now she's worried.

"Um, Peter, what's-".

"MJ, that happened in November 2017 right?".

"Why are you saying 'happened' dumbass? Okay, I guess I missed what? Like a month of school at most? I can just-".

"MJ, that was a year ago."

"Shut the fuck up."

Dear Stupid Fucking Journal,

This is by far one of the lamest things I've ever done and I've been to Flash's Sweet Sixteen party so that's saying a lot.

Dr. Who Ha Fletcher said it would help with my recovery by writing down my day by day feelings.

I guess he didn't get the memo that I don't do silly little feelings. It's basically a fact that they ruin everything.

I would blame the stupid driver who ran me over for my current predicament, but, according to the gossip the nurses say when they think I'm asleep, he got a heart attack and still hasn't woken up.

I guess I'm the lucky one.

Lucky. What an odd word.

Peter uses that word a lot in his essays. He's so fortunate (not lucky) that I proofread his essays before he turns them in to Mrs. Tarb. He would be failing in that class and, if he did, where would that leave my Acadec team?

Speaking of PP, he won't stop looking at me. He keeps on visiting, like every damn day. You'd think that after realizing that someone of significance to you, I'm assuming since he kissed me, doesn't remember a year of their life, you would stop and take a breather somewhere else. Like, shouldn't that discourage him or make him leave me alone or some shit? But, no. Peter isn't like that. He's like a sad puppy who keeps on coming back. It's slightly calming, knowing he's there, and I truly don't know why. I want to know why.

It's odd, but today was also odd. I'm just hoping that Frank Ocean didn't release anything new while I was gone.

Chapter Text

Ned keeps on telling him that it's not his fault.

Hell, everyone does, from the doctors to MJ's parents to May. It doesn't change the fact that it clearly and painfully is.

He's fucking Spider- Man yet he couldn't save her from a sleepy truck driver. It would be just his luck that he was just in time to see it happen. He remembers waking up in MJ's suite sweaty after having a nightmare of a replay of the truck hitting her.

For some super powers he had, that was some superbly pathetic timing.

The doctors repeatedly told him that he was a hero. That she would have died if she wasn't brought in as quick and safely as she had been.

He doesn't feel all that heroic.

If MJ was awake and remembering the year they had together and wasn't probably cursing the living shit out of him, she'd talk all about his hero complex and how he can't save everyone.

How ironic.

"The human brain is," Dr. Fletcher pauses, "abstract to say the least. Due to MJ's accident, there was brain trauma and it is probable that she got her amnesia from there.

"Or, sometimes, the subconscious suppresses memories in order to numb the pain of said memories. Don't worry, it's not uncommon. The conscious manipulated by the subconscious can resort to memories being suppressed if said memories were too painful."

Peter visibly cringes.

He doesn't want to hear that he's the one that might be and probably is in charge of MJ's amnesia. He'd like to think he's not. He's not trying to be egoistic, MJ's the only one who gets to see that side of him; he's just looking at the obvious.

He liked to think that lying to a person that you love for basically a whole year isn't unforgivable or too life altering but, due to MJ's current situation, he'll have to rethink that opinion.

He wants to be anywhere but here at MJ's hospital suite with her parents as she sleeps.

Peter tries to keep calm but he can't.

He wanted to be mad. He just didn't know who to be mad at.

"How can we help MJ get her memory back?". He says it through gritted teeth because he's upset.

He asks Mr. Stark for the best neurologist, best team of nurses, best hospital, best surgeons, best anything for MJ and yet this happens to her. He knows he sounds and looks mad at the doctor, but he isn't.

Okay, maybe he was a little mad. He was mad at MJ's damn subconscious for deleting him.

He had a right to be mad at that damn subconscious, right? It was what made MJ forget all about the year they were best friends who turned not into lovers (MJ hated when Ned said that), but into a power couple; all she remembers is the beginning of their friendship and that was when he was still love sick on Liz after she had left. It was what made her forget the six months they were together. The six months that might have been too painful for her to remember.

It would be fate to erase MJ's memories of them together.

Peter truly felt like a dick. He probably was. But, still, the biggest dick had to be fate and life and all that shit.

Life wasn't fair.

"You can help her by just being there. If you do some habits that she's done in the past year that she has forgotten, it may revert some memories or at least aid her in getting back to normal. Also, be patient, as hard as it is on you, remember how hard it must be on her."

The doctor checks his watch and says, "I have to go but rest assured, MJ will be fine. These cases aren't common by any means but they're not unusual. Just help MJ out as much as you can and support her."

How the hell was Peter supposed to do that?

He decides he can do that by coming every day.

They don't talk. At least, he tries to, but she ends up giving him a dirty look or the middle finger so he is left silenced.

It's like the silent, middle- finger one day treatment turned into a week long purgatory.

It wasn't a happy or fun experience for either of them.

On the bright side, she was forced to converse with him when he brought in homework or when she was too weak to eat or drink by herself.

Although he was grateful there was a reason MJ had to talk to him, it hurt to see MJ unable to be independent. Only whoever the hell that was up there knew how much MJ loved her independence.

It was probably hurting like a motherfucker to have a broken wrist, five broken ribs, broken legs and have to depend on an ex- boyfriend who was technically still your boyfriend that you can't remember shit about.

He was very fortunate (MJ keeps on pressing him to stop using the word 'lucky' but he uses it sometimes to annoy her) that both of MJ's parents were attorneys that were busy all the time and trusted him to watch over her.

He did hear MJ complaining about how sexist it was but, her parents argued with her till they came to the conclusion that Peter was a good friend (they remembered not to add boy- in the beginning), that she needed someone there that wasn't the staff and, most importantly, that it wasn't sexist to think their daughter who was hit by a truck needs assistance.

He realizes that it has become hard for him to manage to tell the truth to MJ. He's so used to protecting her away from the truth that he doesn't really know how to do it without getting a panic attack.

Of course, lying to her parents about how his internship with Stark Corporations granted him this all payed for extravagant suite at the best hospital in all of New York was pretty hard, but he managed.

He didn't know how he was going to manage the situation at hand.

He still hadn't told MJ about them.

Well, at least the old them.

He's afraid to.

If he tells her about them it would be done.

Donzo.

Fin.

He didn't want it to be.

He liked to think that maybe he still has a chance. That maybe this MJ, without any memory of their time together that wasn't as just friends, may like him or at least begin to like him.

He thinks he has a chance.

She told him one time that she had liked him since the time he started liking Liz. Maybe, if he started doing all the things that she said was what caused her to like-.

"Hey, dipshit. Can you pass me my pencil, I dropped it." She's sitting on her hospital bed with uncombed hair and she's clutching this notebook that she's been writing in for an odd amount for these days yet, Peter can't help but be in awe of how beautiful she is. She says it while rolling her eyes and looking bored and yet he knows her.

He knows that rolling her eyes is her way of saying please. He knows that when she looks bored she really means is 'hurry up or I'll kick your ass then make out with you before your aunt barges into the apartment'. Of course, he thinks it would be just a little bit inappropriate to assume that the second half of that statement could still be held true today.

He passes it to her wordlessly but not without giving her a smile that she dismisses with a glare.

"Peter?" she hesitating asks. It's been only ten minutes since their last interaction so, he's shocked she's even acknowledging him.

"Yeah?" he spots a piece of hair that was in the way of her face and he was about to grab at it but, she puts it away before he can lift his hand off the hospital bed.

"Just answer me straight up okay," she nods her head and wills Peter to nod along. "I've just been noticing a shit ton of stuff and all of them lead to you."

"Like, what's up with this- this suite," and her eyes get bigger as she gestures to the entire room and all he can think about is how pretty she is. "-at this hospital. All these flowers all from you. You visiting me everyday. And not to mention what you," she points at Peter, "did when I first woke up." She's happy he has the decency to blush but that bastard also looked a bit smug.

She had this all planned out in her head. She knew she couldn't say how she knew he was holding her hand while she was sleeping. Obviously, MJ had brain cells and didn't ask about it because if she did, she would be exposed and it's time to expose Peter not herself. She was going to mention it but, to be honest, thinking about that moment still freaks her out so how was she possibly supposed to talk about it at all, especially to him.

She thinks it might be worse than the kiss. At least with the kiss it was somewhat logical to like it. They're teenagers with raging hormones, it would make sense. With hand holding, it was oddly enough a more intimate act and she hated how she genuinely liked that moment and that warm feeling that she got from it.

She asks the questions that she's dreaded hearing the answers to.

"Were we- were we like a thing? A couple? By the looks of everything, shit Peter, I think you may have been in love with me."

MJ doesn't look judgmental, she just looks curious. He wishes she looked judgmental, at least that would hurt less than the look that shows she doesn't remember an ounce of them or his mindless and very embarrassing love for her.

All Peter can think of is, well shit, sorry to burst your bubble MJ, but I *am in love with you.

Chapter Text

Dear Stupid Fucking Journal,

You know what, Dr. F might be onto something. This whole writing down feelings and whatever just might work. Just maybe.

It's really weird but I've been calling the me (the one who did all that stuff that I don't remember) "the other MJ" and I really want to think it's not weird and that I'm not going crazy.

There was enough crazy today since I confronted Peter about us.

It feels odd that it's not odd to think or talk or say that there is an us. I mean *was, not is.

Anyway, he didn't get to answer me back because Loser #2 showed up in perfect time.

He made some lame excuse about "calling his aunt to remind her to water his tomato plant" or some obviously dumb shit.

You'd think that after dating me he'd be better at lying.

Anyway, since he wouldn't answer I asked Ned.

Peter's mouth is hung open and MJ wants to snap it shut. Kiss it, maybe, but snap it shut, definitely. Not that she would admit it to anyone or write it down in that dang journal.

"Look, Peter, just answer the dam-".

Lucky for Peter, Ned enters. He bares her favorite taffies and her laptop so she's not entirely mad at him for ruining her interrogation.

Peter was over the moon to see him.

He jumps and says, "I have to remind May about the tomato garden we have. Um, to water it. To water our tomato garden is what I'm going to remind her about."

He quickly makes his way out but not before MJ glares at him and Peter gives her that smile that looks as though he's in awe of her.

Jesus. He's so cute. No, no, no *lame. He's so fucking lame.

Ned finds a spot and sits where Peter had been on guard at this whole week.

She gives her biggest frown and glare combination to Ned and she can tell it's working by the way Ned sweats a little bit.

"Um, hi, MJ," he looks around the room, "Wow, aren't you loved."

"It's funny you bring that up." Ned opens his mouth, looking like he's going to change the subject but MJ was too quick.

"I looked at each of these baby breath vases and I realized they're all sent by the one and only Loser Number One, Peter Parker. Fun fact, there's a vase for each day I was still in a coma and there's twenty- four baby breathes in each vase. Coincidence, or is it to signify the hours in a day? You tell me."

By then, Ned was sweating buckets and looking for exits but MJ continued.

"I also realized that I've been staying at this too lavish hospital suite that I know my parents could probably afford but are too stringy to ever think of letting me stay here. A lucky little coincidence is that on the side of the building it says that a big donor of this hospital is Stark Corporation. Guess a person who I know that works for Stark? Peter fucking Parker. Also, name the guy that hasn't left my side for this whole week. You guessed it, Peter Parker."

He laughs and says, "You should turn this into a shot game. Well actually a dose game where you get a fresh dose of morphine each time Peter Parker fits the bill."

MJ laughs drily then carries on with business.

"With all the things he does and all these weird coincidences, you know, it can make a girl, who, by the way, lacks a shit ton of memories, confused. So, since Peter won't enlighten me, you will. Were Peter and I like a thing?".

Ned looks uneasy.

"Um, MJ, I don't think it's my place to talk about. Plus, aren't we like on some rule thing where if we tell you something about the past it could actually cause more damage then good?".

"Shut up Ned. I already looked it up and I asked the doctor. He said it was fine."

Okay, so that was a lie but it was insignificant and basically harmless anyway.

"Look. I'm not going to say anything," MJ glares at him, "but, I will give you this, your laptop. I'm pretty sure this probably has something that can prove something about that to you."

He pushes the laptop her way and he starts ranting about how the flowers looking boring until he gets a call.

"Yeah, yeah, I know Flash. Shut up, he put me as the captain now so listen to me not her," at that MJ raises her eyebrows, "Okay, I'll give it to her," he offers the phone to MJ.

She raises an eyebrow and takes it.

"Hey MJ! We, the Acadec team, just want to say that we hope you have a good recovery and that we- do I have to say that? Yeah, I do? Shit. Anyway, we miss," and his voice gets an octave higher, "you."

Fun fact about MJ, her amnesia didn't take away her ability to smell bullshit.

"And please come back because Peter legit sucks ass without you. What you said is true. I guess you really are his lucky Acadec charm. Ow, Jesus Christ what was that for?". She can't make out the mumbling going on but she assumes it's someone saying how he can't say stuff like that to MJ.

"Ugh, shit. I'm sorry, jeez, I didn't know I wasn't supposed to bring that up!". He huffs into the phone and rants about their current predicament and how they plan on going to the next tournament, but MJ's too shocked to comprehend it.

Lucky Acadec charm? Her? For him? In this economy? Please, Parker wishes she was.

Ned left a few minutes later since he only meant to stay there for ten minutes then head back to school to do some Acadec practice. Her parents came in an hour after that with some lunch and they ate with her until they had to work on some case against Spider- Man or something so they had to go back to their firm.

MJ was left alone with her laptop.

She opened it up and put in her password and she was very thankful that other MJ didn't change it.

"NoOneCanBeHappyWhilePatriarchyRemains."

Some might think it's too long but she liked using things she could remember.

All the apps on it seemed the same. She did some internet surfing, listened to some music that other MJ downloaded, and looked through the saved photos.

Looking through those forsaken photos had to be the worst mistake she's ever made. Actually, second worse since stepping off the road and not checking if there were cars seemed like the current winner.

There were some new pictures here and there. Screenshots of some twitter drama and pictures of books that she probably read but can't remember reading.

She looked through her "MyLosers" folder. She's also very thankful that other MJ didn't change the password to anything else. She thought having the password "DweebsAndDreams" was a pretty clever one.

She remembered making it after she had way too many pictures of Peter, without him knowing obviously, and Ned and it was taking up all the space on her phone. It had a bunch of them either caught off guard, ugly snapchats, some without them knowing she took them, and some new ones that she's wishes she remembered taking.

Woah. Orange looks good on Peter.

Then she found this other folder.

She knew she shouldn't have clicked on it.

Nothing good can come out of an folder called "4MJsEyesOnly".

Chapter Text

Oh. My. 'Not God because who knows if there's a God' God.

Who the hell knew nerds like them could be this scandalous.

When she clicked on the folder, which she had no recollection of making, she was hesitant. Who wouldn't be, that folder sounded like it held some juicy shit.

Getting into the folder was tricky. She tried her birthday, her parent's birthdays, Peter or Ned's birthdays, favorite book titles and quotes, and some of her favorite slogans or phrases. None of them worked. She should've known when "MJlovesMJ" didn't work that something was incredibly wrong. She tried something that she really wished didn't work; "ILovePeterParker". She blesses and thanks the earth for letting that not be the password.

Unlucky for her and three hours of guessing later, the password was "PeterParker+MichelleJones4EVR".

She wanted to puke when the password was accepted. Was she under drugs when she made that password? Clearly, some demented love drugs.

But, wow. The photos on this folder really were meant for MJ's eyes only.

Jesus Christ, if someone found this folder she would be screwed.

There were pictures upon pictures of them doing... couple things.

There's a picture of them holding hands at the Brooklyn Bridge and she assumes that it's Ned who took it, a picture of them giving the middle finger to the White House after inauguration day, a selfie of them two in which Peter raises her lips to a smile, and some pictures of them together at the Women's March.

Her personal favorite was a picture of Peter falling in the snow and MJ laughing at him. She had to admit, she laughed at that one for a couple minutes.

But then there were the other pictures. There was one of them at Coney Island taking a kissing pic on top of the Ferris wheel. A picture of them going to Smorgasburg Brooklyn and sharing a sushirito. There was one with MJ wearing a bikini, which, by the looks of this picture alone, Peter greatly admired, and Peter wearing only trunks at some beach.

Damn, we look good.

She scrolled through some more pics, a lot of kissing pics, food dates, middle finger promises ("just like a pinky promise but with something extra"), protests, after Acadec tournaments, and concerts. She sees how happy she looks in those images and she wishes she could remember those memories and the feelings that she felt when those pictures were taken.

She shouldn't have kept on scrolling up.

Sweet motherfucker, the hell is this.

There's some rather explicit photos of them and she had to admit, she was equally mortified and oddly proud of them.

There were pictures of her at his place under the covers and she makes sure to look around the suite before continuing.

There's also these picture that are so beautiful. Maybe it's just her and she may be a little biased but to her they're wonderful.

There's three photos. One of him posing hilariously on her bed and he's wearing his boxers and has such fluffy ass hair that she just knows how it feels. The second was of her sitting at her desk in one of his black tees and it looks as though she's trying to cover the camera lens but, the small parts that do show her, show a very happy and laughing girl. The last one may be her favorite. It's just him shirtless in his pajama pants and her with his sweatshirt on taking a selfie together but yet she can almost feel the intimacy.

She exits out of those pictures quickly.

She really needed to call her mother now. She might need to attend some church.

She also needed to call whatever gym Peter had been going to because he looked mighty fine.

She keeps on scrolling because she's an idiot.

There's a collection of pictures and there is this picture that was haunting MJ now.

The collection is a bunch of pictures of MJ in some evening dress and Peter all dressed up in a tux. The picture that was really haunting MJ was of them two at what she assumes is at some dance. She bets it's the annual debutante ball she remembered her mom reminding her of her invitation to it.

It wasn't shocking that she went to it because the picture made it look like she was perfectly happy to attend. It was her sitting at this table in some evening dress and Peter's standing and crouching with his arms draped around her shoulders as she holds onto them. They both look so happy and so unmistakably together that MJ feels a sudden rush of jealousy.

Is it possible to be jealous of yourself? To be jealous of something that has happened to you but hasn't happened to you?

Dear Stupid Fucking Diary,

Is it possible to wake up and love someone?

I would like to know that.

I look through my old photos with him and I find myself wondering how that came to be. Peter and I, I mean.

You can't just fall for someone right? Love or whatever I felt or may possibly feel for him can't just happen out of no where, right? There must have been some slow burn shit until I got the balls to ask Peter out.

I would ask Peter how the hell he could get someone like me, but that little shit has been gone for approximately five hours and it's currently 9:00 PM and I (might) miss him. Just a bit.

Anyone would if a person was constantly there until they randomly weren't.

But, honestly, I'm not that upset that he hasn't comeback.

I'm more upset at how I have such ugly ass handwriting right now because of the damn news on the T.V.

On the news, there's politics drama, North Korea, and some celebrity divorce. The main coverage, and the reason I get shook every .2 seconds, is on some weird villain guy who's kept Spider- Man in some weird battle. I hope Spider- Man does us a good one and finally puts him back into space or something.

Anyway, back to the whole Peter thing. I plan on apologizing and maybe I might interrogate him a little bit more but I won't do it as-

"Jeez. Are you writing a novel?". From her peripheral view, she can tell that he's leaning on the door frame with his arms crossed and a slight smirk on his face. She looks up and glares at Peter.

Then she sees Peter's face.

"Um, 'jeez' me? Buddy, no offense, but it looks like you just went in the ring with Mayweather and we've all seen the fights and the domestic abuse report; he's fucking psychotic. But seriously, what the hell-," and right at that second Peter collapses at the door frame.

MJ screams.

Dear Stupid Fucking Journal,

Back to what I was saying, I plan on interrogating just a little bit more.

That blob of ink caused by that dumbass fainter passing out annoys the hell out of me and I've added Wite- Out to the grocery list that Peter always asks me to make.

Peter is continually sweet and it's genuinely confusing. It would be nice if he didn't seem that in love with me.

I feel like I'm in love with him. Am I in love with him? You can't possibly be in love with someone that quick? I mean, all I remember was having a tiny little infatuation on him and that's it.

Not love. Not that bullshit.

I sound and I probably am annoying. Like, my biggest problem is that a boy is too in love with me, yet people are literally out here starving to death or dying. How nice of little ol' me to complain.

Anyway, turns out I'm allowed to wheel my way through this hospital and I'll be released two days from now.

I'm currently writing this while at the bedside of my sweet soldier as he rests. Like, seriously.

If I could write down how he looks so beat up yet beautiful I would but, I don't have the time or energy and my hand is cramping.

Either way, I bet he'd get a kick off of me being the girl in the chair waiting for her significant other to awaken.

How sickeningly pathetic.

Chapter Text

Dear Stupid Fucking Diary,

When will Prince Parker wake up.

Okay, so what, he's been out for like two hours and laid ease, eye am bored.

Yes, I intentionally put 'eye' and not 'I' and 'laid ease' and not ladies.

I sound so bitchy and I'm not going to say I'm not.

Am I being selfish?

Maybe.

I need my answers and I need them now.

I've noticed that he looks like a little kid. I did not mean for that to sound as pedophilic as it does but I hope you, whatever this journal is, understands what I'm trying to say.

I think I always admired his genuine kid like nature that makes him always assume the best out of the worst.

He looks so unstressed and he looks so at peace when he sleeps that it makes me feel at peace.

There was this damn curl on his forehand that was really bugging me. I moved it away, being the good friend that I am, and his hand went up and held onto my wrist. I swear I have never been so quiet in my life as I was in those two minutes.

He held on for a little bit till I was able to slowly let him go. I don't want to admit it but I kind of missed the curl on his forehead.

I may or may not have moved it back.

He wakes up an hour later as she was falling asleep.

She's slouched over the uncomfortable leather chair that he's been on countless times and he can see the wheel chair parked near by.

She was moving around, trying to find a perfect spot without avail. He found it cute. She found her perfect spot ten minutes later and she fell asleep quickly.

He notices the hand she has left on the bed that was left palm side up. He links their hands together and she doesn't move for what seems forever, but, according to the clock, it was just two minutes.

She moves her hand away and Peter's never felt so cold.

"So, you're telling me that you fell and tripped on your way visiting me?". She raises her eyebrows at the bullshit story Peter was trying to pull on her. "And that's how you got the massive bruise on your eye, a cut on your lip, and a broken wrist?

"Speaking of broken, I could have sworn that your leg was broken but, it looks completely fine right now," Peter's eyes widen but MJ didn't even notice, "whatever, I think I had too many pills last night."

"That's what happened," and Peter winces but, she doesn't know if it's from physical pain or due to lying.

"Okay, sure Peter. Tell me what really happened when you can," she holds onto her IV and was about to roll her way out when she hears him.

"Yes."

She looks back at him and she sees him looking at his hands.

"'Yes'? Yes, what?".

"'Yes' to the question you were asking before. It was about, um, us."

Oh.

"Thanks for the assurance dimwit but, I already know." He opens his mouth to speak and MJ can just feel the words of blame on Ned about to pour out.

"I saw some," she pauses, "pictures of us."

"Pictures?" MJ was making her way back to his bed side now, "Really? Can I see?".

"No!". She lets out a little too much energy in her 'no' and Peter raises a brow.

She gives a neutral face and says, "Anyway, I bet you just loved that I was the girl waiting in the chair for her loved one to wake up," and she laughs and rolls her eyes, waiting for Peter to join in but he's frozen.

Did she just say loved one?

"I mean love like love. Not love love, you know what I mean," she rolls her eyes, "smartass."

"Yeah, I do." He gives a long sigh.

"Look, dweeb, I- I just want to ask. Were we in like love love, not just love?"

"I would like to think you were." He also mumbles, "and that maybe you still are," and at that MJ gives a stunned impression but, he goes on, "I know I am."

"It's so fucking weird. All I can remember is how I started liking you. I don't remember anything of our time," and at that she cringes, "together, yet I do feel something stronger than like. That's weird, right?"

"Really weird."

Also, really nice and cool and pleasant to hear, but, yeah, very weird too. It would be MJ to make the first move about them.

Again.

"Look, I don't want you to get your hopes up, I really don't. I just feel this thing," she throws her hands up in the air, exasperated, "and it's so awful and embarrassing and I don't know how the hell I've done this before. This is some stressful ass shit and I truly detest it and I hate how I actually don't detest it all that much."

She points at him and he can feel her pointer finger jabbing him square on the chest, "I swear to your Star Wars figurines, if this conversation leaves these doors you will die. Peter Parker, mark my words.

"But, anyway, I just, I know you're feeling discouraged at your current situation, hell, so am I, like I can't imagine loving someone who doesn't remember even a bit of my relationship." She sees the wince he makes and says, "Shit, that was too much. But, end of the story, I really think you shouldn't be. Discouraged, I mean, you shouldn't feel discouraged. I'm not saying we'll ever be like how we used to be but, I'd like to think we could be possibly be something new."

That smile, the smile that looked like it hurt like hell to do so since he had a cut as long as the Mississippi River on his upper lip, that one that he gave her, told her he wanted to too.

Dear Stupid Fucking Diary,

Peter Parker is a fucking romantic.

I almost pity myself for even writing that.

This guy really took me out on a picnic at Central Park where, according to him, he got the balls to ask me out on our second date.

Yes, I asked him out first.

Honestly, I'm not that surprised.

Anyway, he brought us some sandwiches and drinks from the reopened bodega and we talked about how nice the hospital was and how we should get private membership cards.

"You know, I still don't understand how the hell you got me a free stay at that hospital. That was sweet, but very much weird, dweeb. You must think I'm really gullible if you think I believe that Stark just let you rent a suite for two weeks for the sole reason of your 'internship'." She uses her fingers to make quotes when she says 'internship' and then takes a bite from her panini and laughs.

"When the truth comes out, let's hope it doesn't hurt."

Amen MJ, Peter thinks, amen.

"Well, that is the truth." Okay, sure, maybe him being kind of a part of the Avengers had a little bit to do with it.

"Hmmm, okay," she rolls her eyes and lays down on the blanket. She closes her eyes and Peter begins to worry if she's already super bored from their date that hasn't officially been considered a date.

"MJ? Um, MJ? M-".

"Shut the fuck up, loser. I'm trying to think."

He lays down and joins her. "Think of what?"

"I don't know. It ranges from 'How am I going to make up all my missed homework?' to 'Why is Flash still in Acadec?'," Peter laughs at that, "and to 'How do you continue a life that you don't recall the last year of?'".

Good questions, MJ.

"I think, knowing how smart and perceptive and excellent you are in everything, and no, I'm not biased, you really are excellent in everything, you'll know how. You're my Michelle Jones, you're MJ; you can do anything because you just can."

"Okay, that was sweet as shit up until you said 'my'. You dumbass, I am and I will always never be anyone's." She slapped his chest with her back hand without so much as opening an eyelid.

That's his 'but his in only a non- sexist or not upholding patriarchal ways' MJ.

Chapter Text

Dear Stupid Fucking Diary,

I am terribly sorry that your blank ass pages haven't been written in for two days.

Honestly, blame it on Peter.

Basically, he was really fidgety and nervous and he was creating a draft at my place from walking back and forth worrying his ass off so I told him to nicely stop.

Okay, so I might have said 'Can you stop that or else I'm going to shove your foot up your ass'.

That's honestly pretty nice.

Considering my standards of niceties.

He stopped and looked at me. Like, really looked at me.

I hate to admit it but, I think the only person I'm self- conscious in front of has to be Peter.

A big silence for my reputation.

Anyway, he just blurted out "Go on a date with me."

I wanted to say, "Fuck no," at least, deep down in my heart I did. Who was he to tell, no, command me to go on a date with him.

The absolute audacity.

Honestly, fuck him.

That's why I'm so confused as to why I said yes.

Unluckily for me, it's like I'm allergic to saying 'no' to this dumbass.

"So this is where you got the balls to kiss me?".

She looks around her. There's the usual cab driver who pretends not to listen to their conversation but we all know he can. There's the partition that's all fogged up from too much use and not enough cleaning. The seats' seams were coming undone and the windows had cloud stickers on them. The floor itself was slightly trashed with newspapers and an empty extra large McDonalds cup.

What a romantic sight.

"Hey! I see that judgy look on your face. Don't hate as you wait," she snorts at that, "And for your information, I worked very hard to find the exact cab we went on."

He points at the middle seat that both of them were, embarrassingly, too shy to sit at for the fear of actually making contact with one another.

MJ finds that ironic.

"That is where you sat," he points to the middle seat, "while I sat here," he points to where he's sitting.

"It was after Flash's Sweet 17 and we were on our way to this one wings place that you absolutely love-".

"Bonchon." She gives him a look that screams, "Are you the one suffering from amnesia?.

"You remembered!". He looked so happy that she remembered that she found it hard to keep her resolve on keeping this venture, date according to Peter, strictly at a PG rating with the absolute most she would allow would be hand holding.

"Well, duh, you've tasted their soy garlic wings. They're unforgettable."

"Exactly." He gives her that boyish smile that she realizes she doesn't hate all that much.

"That is where we're going right now."

Two hours later, two bellies full, and a half mile walk later they find themselves in front of this old building.

"Why the hell are you stopping us here? You do know the subway station is literally right around the corner right?"

He shrugs and points at the sign saying what school it was.

'The Nightingale- Bamford School'.

Oh my-.

"What the hell? We're Brooklyn born and bred, not upper east side. I swear, if you're about to tell me that we switched to this school or that we're anyway, shape or form, related to this school, I'll-". She's interrupted by his very, very not cute laughter. Absolutely ugly laughter.

Rude.

"Fuck you, Peter. You know I'm allergic to the idea of preppy private schools. Didn't we both attempt to watch Gossip Girl together before? Remember, I couldn't see for an hour because of rolling my eyes too much."

He shakes his head and says, "That was fun and you know it." She scoffs but he continues, "Remember, we also watched Corpse Bride afterwards? I never took you as a Corpse Bride girl."

"Shut up." She rolls her eyes and was about to turn to the subway station when he grabs her hand and tugs her to go to the opposite direction.

"Stop being stubborn, MJ," she hits him with her free hand on his chest and scoffs at that statement to which he snorts. "We're just here so I can show you something."

A half hour later after and after nine disastrous attempts of getting through the back gate, their tenth and only successful attempt led them to the entrance of a janitorial closet. After Peter regains his nerve to continue going, he leads them to the library.

"You haven't done this before? Lame." She uses a bobby pin from her pocket and her phone's flashlight to open the door to the library.

"MJ, sneaking into private property shouldn't be a bragging right." He looks around nervously as she wiggles the bobby pin through.

"Says the amateur."

The door opens.

"Hah." She gives him the middle finger and enters.

"So what was the point of this dweeb? Other than giving you a slight heart attack at the thought of actually trespassing." She passes by the tables, noticing how oddly calming it was to go into an empty and dark library with someone. She doesn't want to admit it's only calming because he's there.

"Over there." He points to the 'G' section of books.

He puts his hand on her back and leads her to that section.

Suddenly, it's all too warm in the freezing library.

"This school is where we went for preliminaries before nationals. Right after we won first place," she smiles at that, "I asked you to meet me here.

"So, you were super happy, you even high- fived Flash," she wrinkles her nose and he laughs, "I know. I had that reaction when you did that. Anyway, I thought we were both happy with how everything between us was going, four out of five of our previous dates had been successful, so I asked you to be my girlfriend."

"Oh."

"Uh huh."

"How did you react when I said yes?".

"Aren't you presumptuous?" he gives her a small smile. "Actually, you turned me down."

"I did?". She assumes she says it a bit too shocked since it makes Peter smile widen till there's the faintest dimple. To her discretion, it made her blush.

"You did."

"Shit, were you okay?".

"To be honest, I think I went into shock for a second but, you kissed me after you said that so I didn't think much of it afterwards."

"Wow. I'm-".

She tries to think a single reason as to why she would do that. Hell, she had an embarrassing ass infatuation and maybe crush on the guy during that time and she said 'no'?

"Wait, so we were never official?"

"No, we did become official. I asked you again on my birthday a week later and you finally said yes. I asked you why you said no then and you said," he laughs a bit, "and I quote, 'I don't know. It wasn't really romantic, Parker. At least put some damn finesse into asking a girl out, amateur.'"

"I'm so fucking cool."

"Yeah," he says that with a whisper and gives her, to no one's surprise, another big goofy ass smile.

If anyone else was there to witness it, it would be to everyone's surprise that MJ returned it.

Chapter Text

Dear Stupid Fucking Journal,

I might love him.

“Him” meaning Peter fucking- loser Parker.

Sorry, that was too quick of an update.

I’m really sorry for not writing in you for three weeks. I was busy.

Cotillion season is making me busy.

I know, shocking right?

Turns out cotillion season is coming in less than three months and mother almost passed out at the idea of me not attending. When she finally convinced me, with some book incentives, I decided I could go alone. I think she almost died at the thought of me going without a date.

Guess who, according to my mother, was my knight in shining armor and signed up to go with me, for, according to him, the third time?

I guess those pictures of him and I in fancy shit really did take place at a fancy place.

We have to go get dance lessons since his white ass can’t dance and I forgot all the official mannerisms and dances.

As cute as it sounds, it’s honestly a nightmare. Each Monday and Wednesday after school I have to go to rehearsals with Mr. Parker for three hours.

Constant contact.

Constant interaction.

Constant.

Yesturday, he took me to Bonchon after Acadec practice again and he was telling me some overused pick up line and it made him snort out milk.

First of all, gross.

Second of all, why am I not that disgusted?

God, that was so embarrassing on my part.

Have my standards really gotten low? Or, has it been adjusted for him?

Mother says when she fell in love with dad, she thought he couldn’t do anything unforgivable or disturbing.

After twenty- five years of marriage and one child, she still thinks that.

I’m, quite possibly, just maybe, starting to believe that too.

With Peter, not my dad, obviously.

Lately, no matter how hard I try, everything he does makes me more in maybe love with him.

I think this feeling I think I’m feeling is love. Maybe it’s just attraction.

But, can attraction really be this strong?

He could be ranting about some galactic space movie trope for hours on end or ditch me for five days yet somehow, someway, he has a way of making me feel okay. That no matter what I’ll be fine. He is like my personal loser like hero.

Sorry for that blotch of ink right there, I couldn’t stop laughing at the idea of him being my personal hero that I couldn’t control my pen. God, I’m so funny.

Anyway, I think maybe I’d still feel whatever this is for him no matter what.

Maybe.

It’s honestly nauseating.

“Shut up, you’re not allowed to sing my mans Frank Ocean till you get this simple step right.”

She sees him pointing at her singing some song from that orange album that she’s beginning to like.

Although, she’s been getting mixed feelings about it since it’s been giving her mixed emotions more on the, um, love side than she would have appreciated.

“Admit it, you love it when I sing Frank,” he says with, the audacity, a smirk.

Maybe.

“Whatever, let’s just get this dance step right before the Thai place closes. You owe me mango and sticky rice, Parker.”

He just laughs his annoying laugh and gets behind her.

“You are so lucky Mr. Martrice left due to a family emergency or else he’d be drilling you on your lack of form.”

“Oh, shut up.” Yet, when he says this, he looks as though he wants her to do anything but shut up.

“Okay it’s one step, two step then three spin. Got it?”.

She looks back to see him looking at the window.

“Peter, I swear on my motherfucking ass, if you don’t fucking pay attention, I will-“

“MJ, can I take a small break?” he's already reaching for his backpack and sweatshirt. Halfway across the room, almost to the door, he says, “I’ll be back soon. I just forgot that I have to-“.

She waves her hands at him to stop and wipes the sweat off her forehead.

“Peter, you’re a big ass dick for doing this but whatever. It looks like you’ll pee your pants if you don’t go so go. I need time to relax anyway, we've been at this for almost two hours."

She groans and says, "Plus, your feet are real motherfucking heavy each time they step on mine.”

She sits down near the window and exhales.

“MJ, I’m-“.

“I’m kidding," and she only says that because she absolutely hates the sad puppy face Peter always makes when he thinks he's done something wrong.

Not that he’s incorrect in thinking he’s wrong. Just that when he does that, he becomes more irresistible and that’s really not good, at least for her.

She throws her towel at him, "Go ahead and do whatever shady shit you gotta do. This is your fifth time ditching me out of no where. I gotta say, it seems like you either have A) a girlfriend," at that Peter adamantly shakes his head and says, “MJ, you know you’re the only girl I-“. She interrupts him by shushing him and saying, "or B) a second life."

Peter pales.

"Fair warning loser, I'm giving you two hours to meet me up at the Thai restaurant or else I will be disappointed."

“And you know how I hate to disappoint you.”

Yeah, I do.

He smiles.

“I’ll be back soon, okay? I-.” He’s at the door already and past the door, “I love you.”

And then the asshole leaves.

“Ma’am, you almost forgot your dessert.”

She was half way through the door but she came to a halt when she heard that.

She looks down and checks the paper bag with her take out.

Shit.

“I can’t believe I almost forgot my mango and sticky rice,” she says to the guy with an apologetic smile.

She whispers a profanity headed at Peter since his dumbass self made her off track and almost forget the dessert she was going to bring him.

Stupid Peter. Stupid fucking ‘I love you’s’. Stupid lame ass motherfu-.

“Thanks,” she looks for his name tag, “Mark, thank you Mark.”

“You’re welcome.”

He squints at her for a moment which causes MJ to raise an eyebrow. "What? Don't you know staring is rude?".

“I'm sorry, it's just that-" and continues to look at her and MJ does not appreciate it.

Who the hell does he think he is?

“Fuck off, weirdo.”

She was about to turn away when she heard, "Wait, wait. You’re Peter Parker’s girl, right?”.

She sighs.

“I am no one’s girl for your patriarchal information. We, um-“.

How do you say you’re in a relationship in which you’re both mutually in love but both have no balls to make a move?

“Let’s just say it’s complicated,” and she thinks, “Good word choice, amateur.”

“Anyway, mind your own business, Mark. Why do you care?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just take care of him, alright? His ass needs someone like you, you know? To be his other half and whatever.”

“Yeah, he does.”

There’s an awkward pause.

“Can you keep a secret?” he asks.

Actually no, but sure.

“Who am I going to hide this from Mark?”.

“Peter? Maybe?”. At that she sits down.

“You know, when you were in that coma, he bought mango and sticky rice everyday in hopes that the smell would wake you up. I guess it kinda, maybe worked.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“I heard in some cultures that mangos have the ability to summon love. Stupid, right?” he shakes his head and waved goodbye after hearing some lady, presumably his mom, yell at him to come back to the kitchen.

Not that stupid, Mark. Not that stupid.

Chapter Text

“On my great auntie’s grave, Parker. God, and I’m not even religious, I love you.”

“Is that so?” he says while eating a handful of popcorn.

“Oh, shut up shit face. You know what I mean.”

“No, no I-,” and before he could continue, MJ throws two popcorns perfectly into his mouth.

“What I mean is that you’re not that bad of a person to study with, Parker. I’ll only say this once so your ass better remember; I appreciate you and your brain for helping me maintain my A in AP Chemistry.”

She laughs and throws a Sour Patch at him.

“If you keep this up Jones, I’m afraid that I’ll have to take my services away,” he says as he swerves away from an invading Sour Patch.

“As if, you can’t help but want to help me Mr. Parker. No matter what. It’s your true weakness.”

“So, my kryptonite?”.

“Uh, huh,” she nods and highlights a word in the notebook filled with chemistry equations, “Face the music, Peter. I’m your kryptonite.”

She shrugs and walks away to get more popcorn and Sour Patch mix.

Yeah, you are.

“Are you cold?” he asks as he noticed it’s the second time she’s shivered in a thirty second period.

“No, I’m sweating,” she says as she squints at him.

“Duh, I’m cold. I blame it on your heater breaking during winter season.”

She’s stuck wearing a light long sleeve since she spilled tea on her original sweater. She’s fucking freezing.

She can’t help but remember how comfy all of Peter’s sweatshirts were, even Peter’s thin ass sweatshirts felt warmer than she could ever make up on her own.

She’s misses his sweatshirts.

It’s been a total of sixteen hours since she’s last worn one.

“I have some clean hoodies in my closet. Want me to go-,” and as he stands up to go, Aunt May is audibly yelling at him to set the table.

“You know what,” he says as he’s moving into the doorway out of the living room and into the kitchen, “just go and find whatever sweatshirt smells and fits the best.”

“Gotchu, Parker.”

She has two viable and respectable choices of Peter’s sweatshirts.

One, a black sweatshirt with the slogan “If Silver Surfer and Iron Man Ever Teamed Up, They Would Be ALLOYS” and the other being a navy hoodie with “Wookieleaks” and what she presumes to be Star Wars related characters on the back.

Suffice to say, she was still searching.

She had to go on the subway and see strangers in whatever sweatshirt or hoodie she picks so it had to be good.

And she planned on wearing it to school the next day, so there was that.

She sees a maroon hoodie with a blank front.

Weird. Peter loves puns on sweatshirts.

She turns the sweatshirt and sees the Stark Corporation’s logo.

Oh.

When she picks it up, after sniffing it to make sure it’s okay, she tosses the others to the side.

At least this one is acceptable.

Imagine her surprise when she lifts the sweatshirt and Spider Man’s mask comes out.

“Hey, MJ, did you find any-“.

Shit.

She tosses the mask under the Stark hoodie and puts it under her arm.

She makes some irregular yelp that resembles a thirsty hyena.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah. I found one.”

She meets Peter just as he was about to open the door to his room.

“You know what,” she says as she moves out of his way and towards the table in the living room to retrieve her stuff.

“I just forgot my mom wanted a mandatory dinner today. I-,” and she stops to look at his face.

He looks sad.

She hates when he makes that face.

But, not as much as she hates liars.

"I just want to say, for someone who's super lame like you, I really didn't expect this."

"Expect wha-?".

"Here you go," she says as she tosses him the mask and he stumbles to catch it, "next time, hide it better."

"Also," she says before she closes the door, "you're a horrible liar with, ironically, terrible hiding skills and a dick head. I expect a good explanation, Parker. Just don't talk to me till I want you to."

Before he can open his mouth again, she's left.

Dear Stupid Fucking Diary,

I’m-.

How do I explain this?

Hurt?

Wary?

Uncomfortable?

Oddly turned on?

Okay, yeah, the last one is weird but this is for my eyes only so it’s okay.

When one finds out that perhaps their unofficial significant other is part of, como se dice, fighting and crime battling work field, how should one react?

Also, another factor, how does one react when one’s parents are defending the city against the cons of the, um, significant other and significant other’s group.

What the hell, I can’t even read this shit.

How do I react to my unremembered boyfriend being Spider- Man, part of the fucking Avengers?

How am I supposed to react to my mother and father both defending the city against the damage of the Avenger’s, mostly Spider- Man’s (aka my kind of, maybe, sort of boyfriend), crime fighting in the city?

H- motherfucking- ow?

I am going to loose my fucking mind.

Did I know about this before the accident?

Is he not telling me because of my parent’s case?

Is he just being a protecting, warm, and loving little asshole?

There’s not even a doubt in my mind that he ‘accidentally’ took the mask or that it’s ‘not his’ so, if he dares to use that on me, I don’t know what I will do.

I just want to know why he would lie?

There’s definitely reasons as to why I, personally, in his shoes, wouldn’t. But still. A dick ass move.

Who repetitively lies to their person when said person has fucking amnesia.

This is absolute bullshit.

Chapter Text

"Fucking hell."

She would be shoved into a dark alley way, Italian take out all over the floor.

She would get the agitated robber who said, "You only have fucking five dollars," to which she raises her eyebrows at and thought, The motherfucking audacity.

The guy went on saying how he was going to kill her and, to be honest, she couldn't care less.

Okay, so she was a bit scared, but, truly, she knew nothing bad was going to happen to her.

She just knew.

Next thing she knows she sees the guy pull out a rather dull knife and then all she can see is red and blue and the taxis and tourists till she's on the rooftop of her building complex.

“Jesus. At least warn someone before you start groping them." She dusts off her pants and reclaims her crutches from his hands while trying to wobble to the nearest wall.

She rolls her eyes at his stunned face and open mouth.

"Close your mouth, dumbass, the moths might come inside."

"Shouldn't you be like, thanking me?".

Peter- Spider- Man- Parker.

"Um, hello?".

He looks at her, peering, as if she's the strange one.

No offense, but I'm not the one running around in tight ass spandex.

"Oh- yeah, whatever, thank you 'Mr. Spidey'."

Who the hell lies about being a fucking Avenger to your girlfriend who has amnesia?

Oh. My. God.

I talked to the avengers before? I swear, if I'm already friends with Black Panther and I don't remember, I think I'd just get amnesia again so I don't remember this.

She tries not to think of how to kill his ass. She decides that either kicking him with one of her crutches or to pushing him off the rooftop with her bare hands are the best solutions.

"It was no problem MJ- Mjam, ma'am."

She raises her eyebrows at that.

He takes off his mask and all MJ can think is, I miss him.

"Sorry it's Mr. Stark's policy on not letting anyone know our identity but you, um, already know." He scratches the back of his neck and taps his foot nervously.

All she does is raise her eyebrows again.

"Look, I hear some commotion on 23rd so I have to go but I really want to take to you so please tell me when you want me too."

He gives her those dang puppy eyes that she's whipped to.

"Maybe."

He smiles and kisses her forehead before he waves goodbye excitedly and trips on his way to the railing. He jumps off and she can see a blur of red and blue flashing through the streets.

Dear Stupid Fucking Journal,

Peter Parker, or should I say Spider- Man, is a fucking badass hero.

A hero, for sure, but a liar none of the less.

A stupid hero. That is his final name; a stupid ass hero.

Him being a hero makes it hard to remember he's stupid.

That's the only strategy I’ve used in order to keep my stamina in ignoring him for five days, two hours, and eleven minutes and counting.

A record according to Ned.

I don’t plan on breaking it anytime soon.

It hasn’t been too hard to do so. With school and cotillion practices cancelled due to snow, I’ve been living a casual five days without that loser.

Only thing raining on my loser- less parade is that I actually miss him.

I know he does too.

He won’t stop calling or texting me and he won’t stop making Ned call or text me too.

Lame.

You know what’s lamer than that?

Me.

Maybe, just maybe, I responded back to one of them.

It was only because I had too much apple cider and I was listening to some sad ass music.

11:24 PM
Peter Parker: Hey.

11:24 PM
Peter Parker: Hola.

11:24 PM
Peter Parker: You know, if I didn’t know better I’d think you’re ignoring me. Must be pretty hard since we have an IONIC(; bond.

11:32 PM
Peter Parker: You’re ignoring me. ):

11:45 PM
Peter Parker: MJ!!! Michelle Jonessss.

11:45 PM
Peter Parker: I really, REALLY, honestly just want to explain myself. I know I seem like a shitty guy, hell I'm supposed to be on a higher pedestal since I'm, I think, your boyfriend (can that be included in our forum too?). I am* a shitty guy but I'm a really good shitty guy who wants to explain a lot to you. Just let me.

11:45 PM
Peter Parker: SOOoOo, will you let me?

11:48 PM
Peter Parker: LOL, would it be bad if I texted you that I love you?

11:49 PM
Peter Parker: I love you.

12:13 AM
Michelle Jones: Shut up.

12:13 AM
Peter Parker: Yes, ma'am.

Dear Stupid Fucking Diary,

So, I’ve started to do some more sleuthing.

My parents are definitely trying to sue the avengers.

It’s nicknamed “The People Vs. Avengers” or some weird shit.

It’s actually pretty complicated.

Something about the physical properties and damages conceived due to the Avengers must be payed by the Avengers and not the tax payers.

Something relating to whistleblowers and amendments.

Also something about the right for the people to know who's behind the red and blue spandex since he's the only unnamed one.

This, my friend, is called dramatic irony.

Everyone from school has somehow managed to reach my number, I blame Flash, and has been texting me if I’ve seen the Avengers yet.

If I’ve ever seen Spider- Man.

I really wanted to redirect them to Peter but I’m smart and I know that I can’t be petty and stupid like that.

Oh, if only.

Somehow, with his Stark connections, he sent me a bouquet of peonies and some new poetry books.

All that came with it was a tiny post it note. I'm not going to say what was on it. I want it to be just my own knowledge.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get tingly.

Maybe I got too tingly.

I kind of invited him over after he said that.

He texted me back in less than ten seconds with a smiley face.

What a loser.

Just tell him what you know. Tell him that he sucks. Tell him that he-.

There's a knock on the window connecting to the balcony outside.

Look what the spider dragged in.

“Uh, hi,” he says sheepishly as he takes off his mask.

“Um," and all she can think is if she should go out or not.

She opens the sliding door and takes a step onto the concrete.

"Hello.”

He smiles and takes a step towards the door.

Red and blue look good on him.

Whoever made this suit really hated Parker's ass. There's some weird ass red blotch of-.

Oh. My. God.

And he also has a stab wound on his right side.

Christ.

She passes out.

Chapter Text

Dear Stupid Fucking Journal,

It’s been a while since I’ve written in you.

But, quick update: I’m very happy.

Since I’m feeling sentimental to this stupid fucking (wonderful) journal, not diary no matter how many times Peter protests, I’ll give a quick little explanation.

After I fainted and, fortunately and unfortunately, hit my head on my book shelf, I was taken to the same hospital as the last accident.

I’m pretty sure the staff there were done with me or Peter being there.

To say the back up story was wild would be an understatement.

Since the hospital staff saw it was Spider- Man not Peter that took me to the ER, he had to make some bogus story. He dropped my faint, literally, body to the ER, scrawled a little something on a notepad he, obviously, politely asks for and then leaves.

Somehow, according to a note left by the one and only man himself, Spider- Man was doing his late night patrols and saw MJ faint at her terrace so he carried her off.

~

“To Staff of This Hospital,

Hi! This girl is Michelle Jones. You might recognize her from a couple weeks back hehe. Anyway, I saw her faint while I was swinging around in order to catch this guy. Please (plz!) take good care of her and call her parents ASAP. Thanks in advance!

Sincerely,
Your friendly neighborhood Spider- Man

~

The lie ‘Spider- Man’ had to tell to cover up Peter being at the hospital before my parent’s was that “he was in the neighborhood.”

God, he’s so lame.

There were many good things to come out of me hitting my head.

One being that somehow I regained my memories. It wasn’t that big of a deal, to be honest. I was slowly getting them back the more I spent time with Peter anyway.

The downfall of regaining memories is regaining the memories you didn’t want to remember. The ones you wanted to store away.

It was harmless, really.

Peter is always late, even to his own house and MJ was just waiting in his room for him to come back after his internship.

It was his fault, honestly.

He knows MJ’s a snoop.

“And this is definely not cute,” as she throws the chemistry pun tshirt away, “and these sweatpants aren’t long enough.”

I knew I shouldn’t have brought my shit home.

After ten more minutes of searching and sniffing and making a clean and dirty pile, which, thankfully, with Peter being a boy with basic hygiene sense, MJ had a bigger clean pile than dirty pile.

And, she found her favorite all time Stark sweatshirt.

God bless his Stark internship.

Not to mention, she also found a piece of paper. It would have been uneventful, but it just had to be titled “Pros and Cons”.

It was a list of the pros and cons of telling MJ about being Spider- Man.

~

Pros:
- she’ll know the truth
- no more lying/ fake excuses
- I can go to her for clean up on bloody days (thank you @ first aid courses she took)
- Aunt May/ Ned won’t have to lie to MJ anymore
- she could finally meet Black Panther
- she could meet the Avengers
- She could think it’s extremely hot that I’m an Avenger

Cons:
- she could (probably not) tell someone my identity (via blogging, school news)
- she could be put in danger
- she would be stressed
- she’ll have to deliberately lie to her parents
- she could hate me and never talk to me ever
- she’ll get mad which can cause a) break up
- she could hate me for being Spider- Man
- she could think I’m too dangerous to be with

The con side was circled in red ink.

She lightly and carefully closed the door to the apartment.

She was going to slam it but Aunt May deserved better than that.

She had grabbed all her stuff and she was prepared to ignore Parker for infinity plus one.

She didn’t know how she was going to do that if she even used his lame math arguements in her head.

I deserve better.

Then why did it feel like she was leaving the best?

He doesn’t deserve me.

Maybe, but who does then?

Only one more flight of stairs.

He’s a repetitive liar.

Definitely true, but, did he want to lie?

I don’t love him.

Hah, funny, MJ.

She doesn’t have time to make a pros and cons list like Peter was able to. Maybe it’s because she’s able to organize her thoughts rationally without putting them on paper for their boyfriend or girlfriend to see.

But, maybe that’s just her.

Maybe, she just goes with her heart, odd, I know, rather than her own brain.

And look where that got her.

Maybe if she was paying more attention to where she was going she wouldn’t have run into him at his own complex’s lobby.

Of course that would happen to her.

“Hey, wait,” he says as he grabs one of her wrists.

“Why are you walking away and why so fast? We still have our study date, right? I’m only,” he looks at his phone and cringes, “an hour late. Sorry, shit I lost track of time at the internshi-.”

He sees the glare in her eyes and he’s confused.

Of course.

“Are you ok-,” he says as he looks at her intently.

“Ask your damn pros and cons list. You seem to be doing a lot of problem solving with that,” she says as she shrugs his arms off and walks off to the exit.

Rain. How fitting.

“MJ, I can-,” he says as he rushes over to her.

She stops and turns to him.

“What? ‘Explain yourself’? There’s nothing to ‘explain’, asshole. You’ve been making a shit ton of excuses as it is, you don’t need to do any more ‘explaining’.”

“MJ, just hear me out,” he says as calmly as he can. Although, he’s not feeling that calm at all.

It was pouring and he couldn’t really see her face through the pour.

He didn’t like that.

“No.”

And Peter swears the people at the sidewalk with them can hear his heart break.

“Fuck you.”

Chapter Text

Dear Stupid Fucking Journal,

(Continued but stopped midway because I took a nap break)

And when I remembered the previous fight and took into consideration the accident and the events afterwards, I decided to talk it over with him.

Nice and calm.

No yelling.

No anger.

LOL, I’m kidding. I ignored him and didn’t speak to him for a year.

Also, kidding.

I didn’t speak to him for four months.

MJ would be lying if she said ignoring him was easy.

They still had almost all the same subjects and extracurriculars together which made it genuinely impossible to not speak to him.

After the third day of not talking to him, Peter finally confronts MJ where she can’t hide; after Acadec practice.

“Hey, I’m sorry I couldn’t go to the hospital to visit you.”

She keeps on putting away her materials. She doesn’t know why she feels like crying or why her hands are shaking. That’s what lame people do and she’s not lame.

She can’t be.

“Hey,” he says as he grabs onto her wrist as she’s midway to packing her binder into her bag.

“We’re okay, right? I know we have to talk about, you know, that. I’m excited to talk about it.”

“We don’t have to, actually,” she says nonchalantly as she slips out of his grasp and moves to lock the door and turn off the lights.

“Wait. Really?” he asks incredulously as he jogs up to her.

“Yup,” and she pops the ‘p’ and speed walks to the exit.

Thank God I have long legs.

Peter quickly adjusts and maintains her speed.

Screw this mutant.

“I just really,” she turns to him, “really, don’t want to talk to you.”

“What do you-?”.

“Ask that dang pros and cons list, jackass. According to that, your friend since freshman year is too ‘suspicious’ to talk to so I am currently taking matters into my own hands.”

“So,” she gives him a sickly sweet smile, “fuck you.”

She waves one middle finger, she wanted to do two but she had books to carry, and leaves him dumbstruck on the sidewalk.

He sighs and jogs in front of her and talks to her while backpedaling.

“MJ, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“Mr. Stark told me to make pros and cons whenever I’m stuck on a decision. I- I meant it like possible scenarios, like you telling or someone using it behind your back is a possibility. I never thought you would actually ever-.”

“You know,” she says as she nears her own complex, “there’s another possible outcome that you’re so lucky to have guessed. Although, it’s not because of your little Spidey secret.”

“Um,” and he already know what’s going to happen but he’s fallen into the trap before he comprehended it, “like what?”

“Like, maybe, me being angry and never talking to you again.”

She slams the door in his face and refuses to hear his apologies.

Two months post confrontation.

MJ wasn’t having fun.

Like, any fun.

She wanted to rejoice in the fact that she let him go. She’s supposed to. Everyone, including Flash with his irrelevant opinions, said she was better off without him.

Yet, why did it feel the exact opposite.

This led to MJ spending the third Saturday at her house watching The Office, again.

She was perfectly content with just eating ten pounds of salt caramel gelato and binge watching. It would be a stupid obnoxious knock to halt her from wallowing in her sadness.

A knock on her window more specifically.

Wonder who that could be.

To her surprise, it’s not him.

Just a letter he left behind.

~

Dear MJ,

You hate me.

That sucks but it sucks harder that you don’t want to talk. I really want to talk to you, please?

Pleeaasseee?

I know what I did was total jack ass move. I burned it (you know the lists) and it’s not just for you, although it is mostly for you, but, for me too. Just tell me when you want to talk, okay?

I miss you.

It’s only been like two hours since we last talked, technically, but that was only so you could yell at me at Acadec. You haven’t talked talked to me in like two months. I feel more lame than I usually feel (lameness disease is spreading MJ) and awfully unhappy.

I think I’m unhappy because I miss my best friend (don’t tell Ned).

Love,
PP, Jackass, Dickass, Dick, Ass, Asshole, and etc.

~

Two more months.

“MJ. Just talk to him.”

“Now Ned, you know how much I hate being told what to do when I clearly don’t want to because I always don’t do it and make the other person irritated. So, do you want to get irritated?”

Ned sighs and shamefully says, “No.”

“Good, we’re on the same side then,” she switches from her AP U.S. history book to The Scarlet Letter and puts Ned on speaker phone.

“Okay let me just say that-“.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she laughs and says, “Stop trying to be slick and let it go already. I haven’t heard from you in forever since you’re taking care of that flu- ridden dweeb. I can’t visit you because I’m on house arrest and I can’t sneak out with my injures just yet.”

“Look,” he says to which she sighs and before she could interrupt, he continues and says, “He really wouldn’t mind one thing from you. A call, a message, a note, you could slap him and he’d be happy just to get noticed.”

MJ purses her lips and rolls her eyes.

“Tell him that that’s unhealthy and a personal problem that I can’t fix.”

“Seriously, MJ. Help the poor man out.”

“Well, since he made a list of reasons why or why not to continue lying to me and he stupidly decides to continue to lie to-“.

She hmms and says, “Yeah, I don’t think he’ll be getting any contact from me anytime soon. Tell him MJ already sent a ‘Get well soon’ card and that beggars can’t be choosers.”

“MJ-.”

“Just text him ‘LOL, MJ hates you,’” and you should be fine.”

“MJ, you don’t really hate him,” he says nervously.

“Trust me, I do.”

She doesn’t but he deserves that.

Then she hears his voice.

“Wait, you do? You actually hate me?” she hears him squeak out and his voice breaks at the word ‘hate’.

Why can’t these imbeciles think for themselves without my help?

“Hey, Peter. Funny talking to you again. I don’t remmeber asking to call you when I called for Ned. But anyway, yes, in fact I do hate you. You’re so-.”

Her window opens and MJ was about to scream for her life till a Spider- Man balloon slowly pops through.

Egoistic jerk.

She hates to admit it but the balloon was pretty cute.

She hears him leap off the roof to her balcony and she sees him slowly approach the open window. He takes off his mask and comes in with a sorry smile while pushing his hair back.

Rude. He knows that’s my weakness.

"Sorry if I scared you," he nervously laughs, "It was the webs."

She just raises an eyebrow without lifting her eyes off her book in response.

She's laying on her bed so screw anyone who thought she would get off her comfortable position.

“I’m sorry, MJ.” He says this while slowly entering her room.

“Go away,” she says as she flips another page of The Scarlet Letter.

“Come on, just listen-.”

She looks up and says, “Like how you listened to me?”. He makes a slight grimace but rebounds.

“No, and that's because I'm an idiot," to which she says under her breath, "Yeah, and?".

"- and you’re absolutely entitled to your own response."

She hmmms in response, agreeing.

"But, I know you’re also all about progress and second chances so maybe you could let me do that. Do that with you, I mean.”

“No. Nope. And no, I'm not even sorry.” She turns her back and opens her book to some random page.

“Okay. I get it. You can’t trust or like me right now,” she nods at that to which he grimaced again to, “but, I hope you know that I’ll be persistent. I don’t go down with a fight.”

Why is that so hot to hear?

“I can tell. I’ve seen your scars and seen you on the news, dumbass.”

She promptly hmphs and gets up from her bed to where he’s at near the window.

I have to do everything myself.

“I won’t stop till you want me to. Do you want me to stop doing this whole persistence thing?” he asks MJ.

There’s a minute of silence.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t the slightest bit sad without him.

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t want him to stay and let her argue with him.

She’d be lying if she said she wanted him to leave her alone and stop pestering her about them.

He makes a move to leave till MJ says, “We have a lot to discuss. I’ll probably be really angry with you and I’ll shit talk you and cry. You know how I hate to cry.”

“Yeah, I do. I hate to make you cry, you know.”

“Yeah, I do. You should work on that since you’re the only one capable of making me cry, dick,” she says as she lightly shoves him.

She looks at him and tilts her head to the side as she looks him straight in the eye.

“So, you really want to do that? Spend you Saturday night with me ranting, crying, and angrily conversing with you?”

“As long as it’s ‘with me’ then, yeah, I’m perfect with that. It’s better than going home with you being angry at me.”

She hates when he says stupid, sweet things like that.

“Stop saying sweet shit like that. That’s irritating and making my resolve hang loosely.”

He smiles and reaches for her hand.

“Good then.”

“Don’t get too smug, Parker. You need me, remember that.”

And I need you, too.

She didn’t like how soft she sounded when she said that. It only made Peter get that dumb soft look on his face.

“That, I do.”

He reached for her hand and she didn’t pull away.

Finally.

She did, to neautralize the sweetness of the moment, stomp on his foot, though.

He smiled through the pain and that only annoyed MJ more.

“You’re so weird. You actually like it when I kind of hurt you.”

“It’s my kink.”

“Gross. I’m usually not a kink shamer but I’m going to shame you for this.”

“I don’t know, MJ. Having you as my favorite kink isn’t a bad thing, is it really?”

No. It really wasn't.

Of course, when she told him the exact opposite, he just said, "Sure" and leaned down to kiss her.

"Not too fast Spidey," he raises a furrowed brow. She doesn't know why she wanted to fix it so badly.

"No offense, but you reek of lack of MJ, lameness and depression, and smell like the sun. You're so lucky I like you that I'll overlook it."

He agrees, he knows he's lucky.

So, he laughs and grabs her cheek, which she so loves when he does, and leans in.

Till Ned interrupts.

"Yo, not to be the buzzkill but how the hell do I get down from here, Peter?".

They both go to the window to give Ned the middle finger and laugh.

"Fuck ya'll. Without me you guys would be going around moping all over the city and now you two have the audacity to kiss while I'm stuck up here with the potential to get pooped on. I’ll have you two know-."

They close the window.

"So you guys are really just going to make out and leave me up here?".

There's no response. They're too busy to anyway.