Work Text:
There’s nothing like love in the universe, nothing even close, and Peter has always believed in it--thrown himself heart first into every relationship and this time he was so...sure.
He’s hurt-- no, that’s an understatement. He’s crushed.
And he’s not sure if he feels this way because he didn’t see it coming, or because apparently everyone else had. He’s not sure if it’s because of the rejection or because the people he loves and trusts didn’t stop him from walking off this cliff. Didn’t warn him about the jagged rocks and shattered spirits that lay at the bottom.
“We do not keep inklings to ourselves, Ned! C’mon, it’s in the goddamned best friend handbook,” Peter breathes out roughly, gripping the banister of the wooden bridge they’re standing on just a little tighter.
Ned pauses a moment before he turns to Peter, as serious as he’s ever been, “I’ve never had an inkling before, dude. I didn’t know what to do with it.”
Against his wishes Peter cracks a smile, reaching for his phone to see that MJ had texted him letting him know she was at the airport, just like he asked.
It’s cliche to say that in this moment it just clicks for Peter, but he glances at Ned, meeting already knowing eyes as he sighs, “I gotta stop MJ, huh?”
“Well, if it’s in the goddamned handbook…”
Michelle might never get used to waking up in a penthouse suite, but she doesn’t feel as out of sorts as she had after her first night here.
Now as she glances around at all the overly opulent decor, she can see more than just excess. She has memories in this space that make it feel homier than it has ever tried to be.
Squinting against the sun, she fumbles the nightstand until she can grab her phone, seeing that she has 5 missed calls and a voicemail.
All from Peter. The smile on her face at the sound of his voice is beyond her control, but it fades slightly as she listens to the whole message.
“ MJ, call me as soon as you get this. I have...uh-big news, I guess.”
“I guess,” she repeats in her head. It’s an odd way to end a message if you have good news, so she figures there might’ve been a hiccup with Peter’s big plan.
She presses the button to save the voicemail, setting her phone back on the nightstand and making a mental note to stop by Peter’s shop on her way to work today.
A flower shop on Valentine’s day is the last place she’d ever be on purpose, but if she has to be there for her best friend, then so be it.
She doesn’t have long to mull over her plan to cheer Peter up before Harry is slipping out of the bathroom, shirt half buttoned and a sly smile on his lips as he eyes her.
Now maybe last night she’d been planning to get dressed while he showered, but the hungry way he rakes over her exposed legs makes her think this might be better so she pushes her luck.
“Couldn’t somebody else do it?” she asks, sounding almost bored, and even though this thing between them is still new, Harry knows her better than that. Michelle doesn’t ask about things she doesn’t care about. “How important is this meeting if it’s in Connecticut?”
She sits up slightly to rest on her elbows as Harry continues getting ready, but not without shooting her a sympathetic look in the mirror.
“I’m only gonna be gone for tonight,” he deflects, dodging her question about the details of his meeting as he ties his tie in the mirror.
“I know, but it’s Valentine’s Day…”
And let’s be clear, Michelle has never been one to go all out on this day. It’s not important to her, the holiday itself, she just wants to reserve the right to be cynical about said holiday with her boyfriend if she chooses to.
She doesn’t need the fancy dinners (today or any day) and she doesn’t need the manufactured romance either. Michelle is a firm believer that every day with the right person is special, no matter how you spend it.
She thinks inexplicably of Peter again, but doesn’t dwell on it as Harry crosses over to her then, leaning in for a short kiss that Michelle immediately tries to push further.
“Mmm,” he hums, pulling back,”that’s what happens when your name is on the letterhead. Gotta show face sometimes.”
She must still look unimpressed because Harry pulls out his phone and types for a minute or two until she hears a chime on her own phone.
“I made a reservation for you and a friend at Phlsh Pho-ward, that new fusion pho restaurant downtown. You can take, uh- Brittany--”
“Betty.”
“Yes! Of course, Betty. Figured it might make up for me having to work to give you a chance to try somewhere you normally…”
Michelle squints at him and he quickly amends, “...somewhere new.”
She elects to leave out that she’s already been because she knows the owner. Flash is a lot sometimes, but he’s a friend, and she and Cindy had gone to support him on opening night.
“Nice save. You almost went all morning without sounding like a pretentious asshole,” she teases, tugging him into a slow kiss, “Truly an accomplishment.”
She’s not joking and he knows it, but there’s an affection seeping into her sarcasm so he just kisses her again.
“Yes, I’m still in rehabilitation,” Harry mumbles against her lips, stealing one last kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
It’s barely 3:00pm and already this day has taken Peter up, down, and sideways. And now? Now he’s sprinting into Penn Station in his bright pink shirt and praying against all reason that he’s not too late.
He rushes over to the ticket counter, first one he sees, panting, “Hi! I need your first ticket on the Northeast Regional Rail.”
Now that he’s come as far as he can without a ticket, Peter can pause and take in the teller behind the counter.
“You’re gonna come up to me, no ‘good afternoon’ and just start spouting off, just like that?” the man gruffs,”Anyways, this counter is for oversized items.”
Peter freezes a little bit terrified as he glances down to read the man’s name tag, “ Happy .”
Uh, Peter disagrees.
“You sell tickets though, right?” He hedges, watching the departure board with rapt attention.
“This counter is for oversized items,” Happy repeats, pointing over Peter’s shoulder where he can see a long line forming, “ that counter is for oversized people.”
Time is running out and Peter would normally never behave this way, but it’s MJ . It’s MJ and she’s so so important to him and he has to get to her so he grabs the trash can next to him and hoists it up onto the counter with a heavy thud.
“Here’s my luggage.”
He sees Happy’s eye twitch before he leans down to grab his own tiny trash can to place next to it, “Now it’s a matched set,” he snarks, running a hand over his face. “Look kid, I’m swiftly approaching 50 and I still wear a bright blue shirt to work. Don’t rattle my chain, alright?”
Some of that urgency bleeds out of him as he pulls the can back down to the ground and Happy does the same.
“Hey, I’m sorry, man. I- fuck , I’m really sorry, okay?” Peter squeezes his eyes shut briefly, struggling to put words to the swell of emotion growing in his chest. “It’s just that...there’s this girl, right?”
Happy snorts, “Oh don't tell me, that'll take the fun out of guessing. Let's see, this is gonna be a tough one,” he says, pressing his index fingers into his temples. “There's a very pretty girl and she's about to get on a big fast train and if you don't stop her, she'll never know how you really feel.”
Peter stutters, opening his mouth a couple times but not speaking. He doesn’t notice the way Happy has started typing while he waits for him to sort out his words. Eventually he settles on, “Not exactly.”
“Mmm, what am I missing?”
“You’re missing that if she gets on that train, then she’s gonna find out the hard way that the guy that she thinks she's in love with is a spineless lying creep! And it’s-”
He pauses to chuckle darkly, tugging at his hair with red rimmed eyes, “I told her to go, ya know? And she-” Peter breaks off and Happy glances up from the computer briefly.
“That’s no good.”
If he wasn’t so preoccupied, Peter probably would have heard the smile in his voice, seen it in his eyes.
“No, it’s no good. And I can't let that happen. Because-because this girl? She is great! She's like…” He struggles to put a name to the way MJ makes him feel. She’s been his best friend for so long now, he can’t even describe it. Her presence alone has the power to brighten even his darkest moments and that’s when he knows.
MJ yanks open the back door of Month of May flower shop and nearly runs right into one of the delivery guys.
“Whoa! So sorry!” she tells him, but he’s in such a rush he barely slows down to say “no problem.”
At the last minute she shouts after him, “Is Peter here or is he on a run?” and the guy calls back “Yeah he’s in there…” just as he turns the corner.
Once she’s inside, she can see that the shop is definitely reaching a faster pace than normal, but the florists still look up as she passes, greeting her like the honorary employee she is with how much time she spends here.
“Hey, Michelle!” echoes from all corners and she does her best to at least make eye contact with everyone even if they’re not close enough to talk.
“Hey you guys,” she says as she gets to the table just inside the back room door, “how was last night? I bet it was brutal, huh?”
Patrice, one of the florists who reminds Michelle so much of her own mother, stops working to glare at her playfully, colorful floral tape stuck to her wrists and fingers, “We’ve been up all night.”
“Capitalism,” MJ frowns in sympathy as she heads into the front, but not without a few more, “hey’s” and “hello’s” as she passes.
“Wow, everyone is here today…” she muses as she finally makes it into the main room of the shop and hears Betty’s authoritative voice speaking over the crowd.
“Whose child- WHOSE CHILD IS THIS?!” Betty is helping a little boy no older than 7 down from standing on the counter when a woman looking frazzled approaches and takes his hand. “Oh good, there’s your mother,” she sighs, turning to see Michelle hiding her smile in her hand.
“Hey, Betty,” she says, heading over to the checkout and fingering an arrangement of neon yellow roses waiting to be picked up. “Uh, whoa. These are...yellow. How-”
Betty levels her with a disbelieving look then, “you know and I know that he doesn’t tell us how he does any of...” she waves in the general direction of the flowers, “...this. Annnnd before you ask, Peter’s in the cafe helping out since the pastries were late this morning.”
Michelles tuts at that, “Yeah, okay. I think he might be having a rough morning,” she explains, already weaving through the crowd towards the pastry counter.
“Hey, Pete. I got your message…” She doesn’t wanna pressure him so she leaves it open like that, giving him the space to talk about it or not.
“Yeah?” Peter stares at her for a beat, smiling, almost as if waiting for something that doesn’t come. “What happened? You’re being weirder than usual.”
“Well it sounded almost like he…” Michelle searches for the gentlest way to phrase it, really hoping Peter just puts her out of her misery. “...like he said…”
“Yes-- he said yes,” Peter tells her and MJ does her best to school the shock out of her features. But Peter knows her as well as anyone so he scoffs, “Why doesn’t anyone have any confidence in me?” going back to restocking the pastries.
“Hey, my bad. It’s shocking to me that any of my friends are old enough to get married-” Michelle reaches out to touch his arm then, stopping him until he focuses on her.
“-And also that anyone has agreed to marry you, specifically.” Peter swats at her and they both crack up, MJ composing herself enough to add quietly, “Congratulations, Pete. I’m happy for you.”
Peter walks around to greet her properly then, wrapping his arms around her waist and squeezing. Michelle burrows into his shoulder, holding onto him until Peter taps her hip twice and steps back.
“How are things with you? And uh-” Peter teases. He “forgets” Harry’s name every time they talk and Michelle might be more annoyed about it if she didn’t find it hilarious given that he’s Harry Osborn of all people.
That and because it’s Peter. She doesn’t think she could ever be mad at him if she tried.
Unfortunately she’s told him as much on nights when they swap out the beers for whiskey, and so Peter takes advantage of the perks available to those safely adrift in the harbor of Michelle’s good graces.
Fuuuuull advantage.
Ignoring him, MJ answers honestly as she watches Peter begin stripping and wrapping roses.
“Harry is fine. I guess? I don’t know. I’m nervous? He’s just the first mostly decent guy I’ve dated and I’m so tired of dating, ya know?”
“Mostly decent, eh?” He takes a moment to watch her, smiling still when he asks her, “Is it going well or is it just not going poorly.”
“I could ask you the same question.”
It’s an offhand comment and a bit more honest than she’d meant to be about her opinions on Peter’s choice in life partner so she quickly backtracks, “But why am I asking you. You’re so settled down you’re sedimentary. So fucking unfair.”
“Hey, MJ, if you wanted me to take you out you had your chance,” he goads her, flashing her that brilliant smile and with just a twinkle of heat behind the way he exaggeratedly checks her out.
“Why would I want that when I so clearly despise you,” she deadpans, tossing a handful of fallen petals in his general direction.
“Okay, okay I give. I’m happy for you too,” he says, eyes burning into hers. “So when do I get to meet prince ch-charming?” he asks, complete with cash register sound effects and waggling eyebrows. “I bet you guys have something super bougie planned tonight, right?”
Michelle purses her lips, a futile attempt at staving off her laughter as she says, “I fully regret teaching you that word.”
“We all have to live with our choices, MJ.”
“Well, you’re wrong. I don’t have a single plan today. So there.” She says, pulling a face at him for good measure. “Harry had a business meeting in Connecticut this afternoon, so he’ll be back in the morning. We’re just gonna facetime, I think?”
And here’s the thing-- MJ knows Peter. She knows how much he loves love and so the next thing he says shouldn’t surprise her as much as it does.
“You know what? You should go up there and surprise him.”
She laughs it off more out of nerves than anything else, but when Peter meets her gaze steadily, silently challenging her to take the leap, he can see the moment she starts to consider it.
“You really think I should go?”
And Peter? He knows MJ too and so he hears the quiet vulnerability in that question, the real question underneath it (would he even want to see me?) and so he reaches out, brushing his fingers along the inside of her wrist before he takes her hand in his.
“Yeah,” he grins, “It’s Valentine’s Day. You don’t think you just do.”
“She’s like sunshine.”
He thinks about all the times that she’d come over and complain about watching Star Wars again , but would sit with him and add commentary anyways because she knows he only pulls it out when he’s thinking of Ben. He thinks of how when she’d hugged him after his first big break up, it was the first time he’d felt like things might be okay again.
He thinks about how no matter what happened, if he ends his day drinking a beer on his fire escape with her, then all he remembers when he goes to bed is that good found feeling. The sound of her easy laughter, the feel of his shoulder bumping hers.
“Everything is better when she's there,” he says with quiet but firm conviction, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. “I can't stand the idea of some jerk hurting her, I just can't. I can't.”
His arms are folded on the counter and he leans his head against them, trying to take deep breaths. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s cried in public but he’d been on a good streak. He’d prefer not to break it today even if, all things considered (considered things being how he got dumped 2 hours ago), he could probably manage a pass this time.
“Take it easy.” Peter startles slightly when he feels a tap on his shoulder, not having seen Happy cross from behind the counter. “Here, this’ll get you to any platform in the place.”
Peter takes the ticket delicately, feeling the smile grow as Happy claps him on the back again, “She’s like sunshine, huh?”
“Yeah,” he breathes, eyes bright with renewed hope and purpose as he reaches for his wallet. His head snaps up when Happy reaches to hold his hands still, and he watches the man with wide eyes.
“Well in that case, it’s on me,” and he sees Happy smile for the first time. “Go on,” he urges with a jerk of his head, and Peter rocks back on his heels with a bright peal of laughter.
“Thanks, man!” he rushes, as he seems to remember the time and starts jogging away, but he pauses a yard or two away and turns back for a moment of sincerity. “Really. Thank you.” and then he’s gone.
Peter glances up at the sound of the shop bell ringing, smile growing freely at the person he sees in front of him.
“Hey, you,” he says, coming around the counter again to meet him. He kisses Johnny’s cheek before he turns to face the rest of the shop, “Hey everyone say hello to my hot fiancé!”
Johnny rolls his eyes, but basks in the attention just like Peter knew he would. “I love the sound of applause in the morning. Especially if it’s for me.”
“Yeah that’s not the only sound you love in the morning,” Peter mumbles, leaning in to kiss him lightly. “What brings you by? You just missed MJ.”
“Tragic,” he smarts and Peter chooses to ignore the sarcastic tone as Johnny rifles through his bag and pulls out what looks like, oh- it’s Peter’s wallet. “Someone, forgot this on their way out,” he teases, handing it over and Peter’s ready to quip right back until he looks down to take the wallet.
“Looks like you forgot something too,” it’s all Peter can do to keep his tone light and playful. “That’s one empty hand you got there…”
“Oh.” It isn’t lost on Peter that Johnny looks more caught than apologetic, even if it’s the second emotion that he tries to sell. “I’m so sorry, Pete. I just...engaged on Valentine’s Day?”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“I just didn’t want people mobbing me over it today.”
Which Peter acknowledges would be a reasonable explanation for anyone but Johnny Storm.
He even starts to say as much until something tells him to let it go. He wouldn’t call it a sixth sense, but it’s...something and so he settles for leaning across the table one more time for a kiss.
“Yeah, of course. I understand,” Peter tells him, but Johnny doesn’t seem sold, so he takes it even further just to drive the point home. “We can start being hand passive aggressive tomorrow,” he jokes, holding out his left hand in various exaggerated poses.
Johnny seems to relax then, stepping in for a long hug before he makes his way out of the shop. When Johnny steps back he gives Peter’s arm a squeeze and there’s something in his eyes that unsettles Peter-- He wonders why it feels like goodbye.
“I saw you on TV today.”
Peter turns at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, too excited to keep from asking, “On WKNY? We’re famous everybody!” He calls out across the store, grinning when his employees all hoot and holler with him.
The man laughs, “Yeah, that’s why I’m here. I take it, you're the owner?”
Peter leads him over to the checkout counter, “Yeah, I started it to honor my aunt who raised me. She always loved flowers so much. Her name was May.”
“That’s a beautiful story. I know a little something about family business too, haha.” Before Peter can ask, he continues, “so here’s the thing. I have to be on a train to Connecticut in an hour, any chance you can help me skip this line? I’ll tip well,” he says, discreetly placing a crisp $100 in the tip jar.
And see, Peter hates people like this, who throw their money around and expect everyone to treat them differently because of it. But his team works hard and they deserve to be spoiled so he sucks it up and smiles tightly, “Yeah, of course. Owner’s privileges right? I’m Peter, by the way.”
“Harry. Harry Osborn,” he offers, shaking Peter’s hand obliviously. “I knew you’d understand. Thank you.” Peter is too stunned to say much, not even sure if he wants to introduce himself fully at this point.
The man in front of him is so far removed from the kind of person he pictures MJ with that it’s a little jarring to realize that this is that person.
Harry must take Peter’s silence for a cue because he jumps right into ordering, “So uh- I’ll need two arrangements, long stem roses- the whole thing.” He glances around quickly before leaning in closer, ”And I’m sure that I can count on your...discretion?”
If Peter were more in control of himself he’d play dumb-- pretend that he doesn’t understand the meaningful look Harry’s giving him, make him say it.
Instead he nods slowly, never breaking eye contact as he answers, “Discretion. Of course.”
“MJ!” Peter finally sees her standing on the edge of the platform. She’s wrapped up in her favorite scarf and hat, the ones he’d given her for Christmas last year and she startles at the sight of him rushing up to her.
“Peter? Wha-”
“MJ,” he breathes again, once he’s come to a stop in front of her. She shakes her head at him and Peter’s struck by how beautiful, how MJ she looks with her curls bouncing where they halo around her face under her beanie. “I found you.”
“Uh, yeah? Cause I told you exactly where I’d be, probably.” She laughs then, nose scrunched up, “What are you doing here, Pete?”
Just then the sound of a train whistle breaks through the noise of the crowd and he sees the lights of her train coming down the tunnel. He’s running out of time so he just-
“It’s Harry.” Michelle takes a step back from him then, squints at him like he’d just told her VPNs were a waste of time to download.
(She’s got strong opinions on government surveillance.)
“What are you talking about, Peter?”
And this? This is the part that Peter takes no joy in. He can see the insecurity, the doubt swirling in her eyes even as she tries to fight it.
“I- He came in and ordered flowers today, for you...and for some woman in SoHo named Felicia. Ned just dropped off his order to her and-”
“Well did he say they were for his two girlfriends? Or did you jump to conclusions like always?”
“MJ…” and it might be the soft way he regards her, the way he steps into her then, takes her hand and holds it in both of his that undoes her. “He didn’t have to say. It was...pretty obvious.”
And Michelle has to look away from him then, even as he keeps hold of her fingers in his, while she processes this information. Downloads it and files it away while she tries to make sense of what seemed so clear this morning.
Harry was a good boyfriend. Never clingy and always willing to give her the space she needed when she needed it. Michelle has never been with someone who understood her need for alone time as well as Harry. Never been with someone who was not threatened to learn that sometimes “alone” for her meant “alone with Peter.”
Was Harry great, or was he just uninterested? Never jealous because he had other options?
It was so easy to just go with the flow when Harry was so willing to do the same and was so unbothered by her friendship with Peter. And if she were honest with herself, it’s that last bit that really sold her on Harry.
Because Peter is non-negotiable. He’s her person and he’s her best friend and she’s been with too many guys who let their egos and average below the belt endowments force her to choose between them.
“Please don’t do this, Peter. I- things with Harry good,” she tells him, eyes squeezed shut, though she’s not sure who she’s trying to convince more. “This always happens. Please don’t make me do this. Not you.”
She’s always chosen Peter, but here on this platform being jostled this way and that as her fellow passengers scramble to board the train, she begins to wonder.
“He’s seeing someone else, MJ. How can you-”
Michelle breaks away from him then, “No, how can you , Peter? You show up here with no actual proof and you expect me to just-” she laughs bitterly, “You know what? It doesn’t matter.”
MJ gathers up her duffle and adjusts the strap in silence until Peter whispers,”You know it’s the truth.”
And somewhere inside, she knows and probably has known for longer than she’d be willing to admit, but somehow she never wanted to ask just in case that same scrutiny turned back to her. To her friendship with Peter. As stupid as she pretends to be, she knows what she and Peter are doing is too far gone to be just friendly, but he’s engaged and-
“Do you think Johnny and I are meant for each other?”
The question throws her, and she can feel the flush in her cheeks at the realization that she needs to lie. Suddenly MJ is very interested in her boots scuffing against the concrete. “I don’t see what that has to do with--”
“Just tell me. Do you?” Peter cuts her off again, a fierceness in his gaze that warms her up until the truth pours out of her like warm honey.
“I- I don’t see it but if you love him and he loves you then-”
“That’s what I’m doing here, MJ. No one had the guts to tell me that I was walking straight into a fire, (he pauses to let the pun settle over her even now), and that Johnny wasn’t-”
“He left you, didn’t he?”
“Today.”
“Did he say why?”
Peter looks away from her then, clenching his jaw and swallowing against the emotion he can feel crawling up the back of his throat. “I found him packing. I don’t even think he planned to say goodbye…”
“ Oh, Peter …” her hand cradles his cheek and she ignores the way her heart flutters when he leans into it and brings his hands up to rest at her waist, as she hugs him tight.
Peter exhales against her neck, pulling her even closer until the light between their bodies disappears and she can feel the beat of his heart against her own.
This is where her friendship with Peter has always been the hardest because it isn’t fair. It isn’t fair for him to touch her like that, to hold her close in the way she’s always wanted, but not mean it.
“You’ve found something wrong with all the guys I’ve dated so far and I just believe you because you’re you and-...I just can’t do this anymore, Peter,” she whispers, steeling herself when she hears the last boarding call.
When she pulls back, she gives him a sad smile and takes her first step toward the train. “I’m going to see Harry.”
He doesn’t know why he does it-- trims the flowers before he tosses them over the railing and into the water below, but he reckons it’s because even the unwanted blooms deserve the same attention as the rest.
It’s somewhat of a tradition. Ever since he was younger, whenever Ben would bring home flowers for May, once they’d reached the end of their vase life, she’d bring Peter up to this old walking bridge and they’d take turns throwing them into the water.
She always told him that even things that are well worn can still surprise you with new beauty. He remembers the way the flowers with all their imperfections had looked wilted in the vase, but somehow vibrant and beautiful floating down the little stream.
“Hi.”
Peter doesn't startle, doesn’t wonder how she knew where to find him because she’s MJ and she’s always seen him.
He wants to spend 50 years apologizing for taking so long to see her too.
When he turns to look at her, he can see the resignation in her eyes, and he knows that she knows the truth now.
“I’m sorry.”
MJ laughs lightly then, darting her gaze down towards the floating flowers with a quiet, “ yeah.” And Peter never wanted this. He can see the hurt that Michelle is trying to bury, but there’s more to it than that.
He can see it in the way she won’t meet his eyes, in the way she wraps her arms around herself as she gazes out over the water.
It’s more complex than just sadness over a breakup. It’s more weathered than just the sting of fresh heartbreak. For the first time he can see how he’s been a source of disappointment for her and he resolves in that moment to do something about it.
“You know, I used to take these,” he gestures to the box on the ground next to him, “the flowers no one wants and make new arrangements and leave them on random doorsteps with a note that says ‘somebody out there loves you.”
MJ finally faces him then, but it’s Peter’s turn to hide in plain sight, too focused on trimming the flower in his hands. “ Yeah, and I always wondered how they might feel if they found out it was me, ya know? Would they want me to be the one who loved them…”
It’s quiet between them then, no other noise except the gentle lapping of the waves beneath them. Michelle shivers in the crisp February air as she thinks about the man next to her.
Peter. Her best friend. The one she always wants to see at the end of her days. The person who never fails to bring a smile to her face no matter what. The feel of his arms around her, how seen and cared for she feels when he holds her.
“I would,” she offers, one foot out on the ledge and hoping that Peter takes that step with her. “I would want that.”
And finally, finally he looks at her then, brown eyes swirling with so many emotions that she couldn’t even begin to try to name them all, but most present is a warmth, a love that she’s been waiting for since the day they met if feels like.
Her breath catches when Peter leans into her, finding her own body drawn to him instantly, nuzzling her nose to his cheek as their breaths mingle, lips just brushing before Peter pulls back.
His hands come up to her waist, with as much care and gentleness as the moment demands. It’s a little overwhelming how well she fits in his arms, how right it feels to have beneath his hands, open and willing to be touched by him.
“I can’t believe I’m about to kiss my best friend.”
MJ gets her hands up into his hair in that way she’s never admitted to wanting out loud and can’t help teasing him even as her eyes linger on his lips, “Oh, what makes you think I’m gonna kiss you?” Peter smirks then, considering her in a way that sends heat pooling low in her belly.
Well this is new, she thinks.
He leans in to peck her mouth then, just once, so fleeting she’s not sure if she’s just imagined it. And he stays close when they part, breathing into the space between them before kissing her more soundly, “I had an inkling.”