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The first time Peter Parker came to their apartment, MJ hadn’t known who he was.
Maynard had been a weird name, but she’d had more pressing matters to deal with. Ned, for his gentle prodding on getting a job and not so subtly reminding her of their shared rent. Adel, who didn’t understand her hesitancy in getting the right kind of job. Lila, who later puked in her bathroom that almost made her gag as she was cleaning up.
Peter Parker wasn’t ever a thought in her mind.
The second time Peter Parker came to their apartment, it wasn’t as Peter Parker but as Spider-Man– sketching him and Ned playing with a LEGO set and hearing his soft apology for doing something she’d had no memory of. It was weird having him there, but wasn’t at the same time– you really do look like best friends– watching him as he left out of the window in a hurry and kicking herself for sharing his name as he did.
The third time Peter Parker came to their apartment, it was as Peter Parker– fully recovered from a gunshot wound that should’ve killed him and with an overjoyed Ned Leeds behind him– also fully recovered but in a different way.
MJ stopped counting the times he came over after that.
It was an adjustment, awkward and made her a little hesitant to try and figure out how to handle the specter of Peter Parker and more, herself. Unlike Ned, she hadn’t had any memories returned to her– no matter how much time they’ve spent together, no magical touch that sparked something in her when she’d passed him a plate of food or when Peter handed her the remote back as he and Ned finished up playing a video game.
There was a part of her– small, fleeting– that wondered if maybe that it wasn’t just physical touch but something meaningful, wondering if they were to kiss again and for her to actually be present in her own body if that would mean something– only to dismiss that as fairy tale bullshit.
From what Ned’s told her, he and Peter had been friends since middle school– the handshake that had unlocked a lifetime's worth of memories being something deeply embedded between the two of them and had seemingly broken through whatever magic that maybe already existed within Ned himself.
From what Ned told her and from Peter– who awkwardly but plainly answered any question that she had– they hadn’t dated very long before everything went to shit, and had even less time together before he’d erased everything between them. Maybe there was something to the length of time or to the impression she got from Peter that even in loving her, they hadn’t really been close. Physically, at least.
She isn’t caught up on the thermodynamics of magical bullshit but she knows enough physics, enough about probabilities and impossibilities and theoretical concepts that if Ned was able to find his memories back to Peter through a handshake– that maybe there was a way for her to get her own back.
Not that MJ was looking for that.
It feels ironic now to think of what she told Ned at that party– waiting for something great– without knowing what it could be. It feels silly to think it’s about a guy much less her not-quite-ex-that’s-also-a-superhero-that-erased-her-memory-of-their-entire-relationship as something she was waiting for because that flew in the face of everything she stood for.
At the same, it was hard to not not think that maybe that feeling came from something beyond the post-grad blues.
You’ll figure it out, babe Adel had said over and over until it started to grate– the relationship running its course for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with Peter Parker and also did, if she was completely honest with herself.
MJ is nothing if not honest.
How could she explain to the man who already believed her to be withholding that she was also withholding the truth of who Peter Parker is– not just the fact that he wears a mask but the way he and Ned instantly seemed to click as if they’d known each other for years.
How could she explain to the man who was beautiful and kind and smart but also fully aware of the way that Peter stared at her and that she stared back not because she loved him or liked him or really even knew him but was now a part of her life like the weather and taxes and the slow collapse of society under the weight of capitalism.
Peter was there and that meant something to her, much less Ned but what she didn’t know, with Adel being unable to reconcile how completely uninterested she was in defining how.
It took you months to go out with me but it took a week to invite him over? He’d asked once, a signal for her that the relationship was already over and maybe, already had been before they’d ever had their last fight.
Adel wasn’t a bad guy and he also wasn’t wrong– it did confound her, how easy she was able to let Peter Parker back into her life and not solely because of Ned. Adel might not be the guy for her for right now, but that didn’t mean that Peter was that for her. She didn’t know him well enough, no matter what memories they had previously shared.
A negative didn’t beget a positive. People cannot be replaced.
The presence of Peter Parker in her life– back in her life, in a way– was just another addition.
“You should have my number.”
“Huh?” Peter asks, looking mildly surprised before recovering. “I mean, I don’t have to–”
“It makes more sense,” she says, already reaching her hand to take his phone. He gives it to her without question, MJ smirking.
“Figures you and Ned would have the same phone,” she says as she types in her number, saving her contact before snapping a picture for the photo. She doesn’t miss the way Peter stares at her as she does, just as she doesn’t miss the way he recovers– getting better and better about not doing that anymore.
It wasn’t awkward, for her at least– but she can tell it pained him sometimes, as if he’s remembering something that past her had done. She doesn’t find it useful to ask him about it, so she doesn’t– handing the phone back to him.
“Next time, just let me know you’re coming over instead of hanging outside the door. Or, window, I guess,” she says, frowning as she looks over to the fire escape. “I should start locking that.”
“You should,” Peter says, closing his phone and smiling softly at her. “There’s a lot of weirdos out there.”
“Freaks that just dress up in spandex and climb into people’s windows?”
“Or just hang out on the fire escape for an hour,” he says with a grin, MJ laughing as he continues.
“Yeah, real weirdo shit,” Peter says, smiling brightly at her.
MJ ignores the way her stomach flips at that.
Peter texts her, the next time that he plans to come over– saying that Ned had originally planned for a game night.
She replies, saying she’ll be out– though doesn’t tell him it’s a date– and for them to have fun.
When she comes home from the date that probably would’ve been better as an email, he and Ned are still gaming.
“How’d it go?” Ned asks, vaguely probably to avoid Peter’s feelings but she can tell from the way he looks up from the screen that Peter– Spider-Man, memory holder, and also, not an idiot– knows what she was out for.
“I’m here, aren’t I?” She deadpans, Peter snorting as she looks over in amusement.
“Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all before turning his attention back to the screen.
“I’m not,” she says, more casual than she means– ignoring the way she feels Peter’s eyes on her as she walks towards her bedroom.
After a while, MJ finds, it gets easier to text Peter. About when he’ll be at the apartment sure, but then about other things. The weather. A news article about mysterious activity upstate. A question about an old restaurant that he’d taken Ned to.
Each time it gets easier and each time MJ wonders about the younger version of her and their relationship. How easy– or not, it seems from the way Ned tells it– this hadn’t been. She wants to know how it felt, but she can’t ask Peter– not because he wouldn’t tell her but because he wouldn’t know how she’d been feeling on the inside. Maybe he would but that seems too far-fetched, to think of a version of herself who had ever revealed the innermost parts of what she thinks or feels.
Maybe the version of her that Peter had known was that person or maybe she wasn’t, but MJ couldn’t really do anything about that. All she had was the person that she is now– in the present, four and a half years of life and experiences and quickly realizing from the way Ned would talk about him that Peter had grown just as much in that time too.
It should be weird, but isn’t– texting back and forth where sometimes, MJ thinks they might actually be friends.
MJ: [picture of an egg]
Peter: it kinda looks like Ned.
MJ: no literally
MJ: wanna come over?
“And then Nate dog–”
“Why do you call him Nate dog?”
“That’s a separate story–”
“He was so fucking drunk that he–”
“I wanna hear the Nate dog story–”
“It’s really not worth the–”
“I’m telling the story!”
MJ watches as Spider-Man gets slammed into the side of the building again, the immediate gifs that seemed to pop up making her both laugh and maybe a little concerned as she pulls out her phone.
MJ: Do you need me to bring you anything?
Almost immediately, she gets his reply.
Peter: no its okay i’m good
Peter: thanks tho
She lets it slide, despite how much she winces with every loop of the gif– pacing around the apartment. It had looked bad but she also can recognize he knows more about this kind of thing than she does, Ned texting the group to let them know that he’s going to be working late after MJ had already ordered enough pizza to feed their entire floor– namely, enough to feed Peter.
She swipes out of Ned’s text, opens up the one to Peter.
MJ: wanna come over?
She stares at the text bubbles, watching as they stop. Start. Stop, then start again before he replies.
Peter: Yes pls
Tap. Tap. Tap.
MJ startles, hearing muffled laughter from beyond the window as she turns— frowning as she stands from her desk.
“You know,” she says as she lifts up the window, making space for Peter to step inside. “We do have a door.”
“You do, yeah, but there wasn’t a place for me to— ah, shit—“ Peter says as he stumbles in, ripping off his mask and putting a hand to his side as he makes a beeline towards Ned’s bathroom.
“Are you— bleeding? What the hell?” MJ asks, quickly shutting the window and walking after Peter who is limping forward.
“It’s fine,” he says, with a less than steady hand wave. “Promise, just really need to clean it—“
“Shit, Peter that looks—“
“It’s fine, MJ, really—“
“It’s not fine, it’s—“
“Oh hey guys,” Ned says, coming out of his bathroom as they walk into his bedroom— watching as Ned takes in Peter, hand still pressed to his side and MJ behind him, feeling incredibly out of place in her own apartment. “Dude.”
“Yeah, can I use your—“ Peter says, going to move past Ned and presumably stitch himself together or whatever else Spider-Man does when he’s actively bleeding but Ned stops him— putting his hands up.
“Ooh yeah, you do not want to go in there right now. I ate some of Sam’s lunch today and it was—“ Ned waves a hand in front of his face, MJ making a face.
“I thought we established that you should stop swapping lunch with Sam,” MJ says as Peter waves his hand.
“It’s fine, I’ve seen worse shit. Literal shit, actually, one time I had to crawl through the sewers after—“
“You are not going to stitch yourself together in there,” Ned says, putting his hands out.
“Use mine,” MJ says, Peter still limping as he sighs.
“I don’t want to stain your sink.”
“You were gonna stain my sink?” Ned exclaims as MJ laughs.
“It’s fine.”
Peter looks at her meaningfully but MJ ignores it– moving aside and waving her hand towards the door.
“Come on, let’s go.”
Peter limps back, MJ noticing the way he looks at her out of the corner of his eye and choosing to ignore the way her stomach flips as he does.
Peter: Ned says you hate bok choy
MJ: Ned is a fucking liar
MJ: do not believe him
Peter: why does he think you hate bok choy
MJ: it’s a long story
MJ: i’ll tell you tonight
Peter: you better
“This is stupid,” Ned says, MJ stifling back a laugh.
“I told you it was scary,” she says as the music gets predictably creepier– Ned leaning back into his spot on the couch. Peter’s between them, as he usually is now– whether by choice or a habit that she doesn’t remember, MJ doesn’t know.
“It’s not that it’s scary,” Peter says, MJ giving him a look. “It’s the music. It’s like, biologically impossible to avoid getting freaked out at it.”
“Don’t you have like a spider-sense?”
“A Peter-Tingle,” Ned offers, MJ laughing.
“A Peter what?” She asks, as Peter grimaces– laughing as he goes to explain when the music shifts, an easy jump scare that had they been paying attention, maybe it wouldn’t have affected them.
It’s instinct.
Ned yelps, leaning back. Peter jumps back, surprised and MJ latches on to Peter, closing her eyes and burrowing her head into his shoulder like she had when he’d swung her across the city away from Frank’s.
She realizes what she’s done when Peter tenses, then relaxes– MJ looking up and meeting his eyes.
She lets him go, heart racing she tells herself it’s from the movie as Ned starts swearing under his breath– reaching for the remote.
“I’ve had enough of this shit. Let’s just watch some bake off or something.”
“Yeah, okay,” Peter says, blowing air out of his mouth as MJ leans back.
Her heart is still racing.
She tries not to think about what that means.
MJ: I actually really like this job
MJ: well, as much as anyone can like a job
Peter: ik what you mean
Peter: i’m still not sure i should keep going to FEAST
Peter: it’s just been hard
MJ: i know you will make the right choice
MJ: you always do
“What’s going on?” Ned asks, squinting at her over his coffee.
“What do you mean?” MJ replies, avoiding the way he’s looking at her as she packs her lunch.
“You and Peter,” he says, as if that answers anything. “Something’s up.”
“Nothing’s up. We’re friends,” she says and it sounds like a lie even as she says it. She doesn’t remember dating Peter much less being friends with him before but she knows they’re dancing around something now that goes beyond friendship.
He texts her and she texts back. She talks to him, sometimes on the phone– first about Ned, then about Spider-Man and then about each other.
He comes over every time she asks– sometimes, to hang out with the three of them and sometimes, just the two of them– to have dinner or to watch a movie and more often than not, in need of being stitched up.
He uses her bathroom and he brings them food and they talk about her day and it all becomes so normal that she forgets that he’s carrying some version of her that doesn’t exist until she starts to notice that the way he looks at her has changed.
Seeing her– not a younger, different version– smiling and laughing and so fully present.
Without even trying, he’s become her friend. Or so she says.
“Uh huh,” Ned replies, sounding just as skeptical as she is at her own label as he sips his coffee. “Right.”
“Ignoring you now.”
“You usually do.”
“Have a terrible day at work!”
“You too, sweetie.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“Do you still think about it? Her?”
Peter wraps his arms around his knees, looking out over the city. They’re on the fire escape, Ned having just stepped out to grab some more beer.
“Not as much.”
“I still don’t remember,” she says, without any heat to it.
“I know,” Peter replies, softly smiling. “It’s okay.”
He looks over and she can see it again– the way he sees her– that makes her believe him.
MJ: maintenance guy is here.
Peter: water still out?
MJ: yeah
Peter: wanna come over?
MJ: yeah :)
“Are you sure this is–”
“Kiss me,” she says and he does just that, pulling her closer to him as MJ moves over him.
She’d expected it when he texted– fuck Ned, she knows he’s placed a bet on when this would happen– but it’s somehow better than she thought, Peter’s tongue slipping into her mouth as she settles over his hips.
“MJ,” he whispers into her mouth, hand shifting into her hair as she slowly grinds her hips down.
Some part of her wonders if that other version of her– whoever she’d been– had ever gotten to do this before, with him. She hadn’t ever asked and now, doesn’t care to– the reality of having Peter’s hands on her ass and his tongue in her mouth far better than any memory she could ever conjure up.
It’s chemistry, electric– two bodies in motion as he slips off his shirt, as she takes off her bra.
Peter kisses her and it feels so right that all she can do is kiss him back– hands and tongue and sighs that turn into pulling each other close until there’s nothing left between them.
“I love you,” he says, as he rocks into her– MJ sighing as she pulls him in.
“I love you too,” she replies, hands across his back and burrowing her head into his neck.
It’s afterward, sweaty and breathing hard– still tangled together in his sheets– that he asks the question she’d been expecting.
“Was that okay?”
MJ snorts, turning to face him.
“Not–” he laughs, facing her. “I mean, the other part.”
“The ‘I love you’?” She asks directly, because that’s all she’s ever been.
“Yeah,” Peter replies, eyes searching her face.
“You meant it,” she says– not a question, but a statement– bringing a hand up to his face– Peter’s eyes closing as she traces her fingers down his cheek.
“Yes.”
“Me too.”
When Peter opens his eyes, he looks right into hers– soft and sweet and so fully present.
He loves her.
MJ didn’t need her old memories back to prove it.
She has new ones.