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Cage McKnight is a raging asshole.
At least in MJ's eyes, and if the deadpan, tired and frustrated expressions that are accompanied by crossed arms and tight jaws are anything to go by, a lot of the crew agree with her.
His title of ‘visionary’ is a misnomer that has only served to further inflate an exaggerated ego. The only vision he has is directed towards his own reflection as he lists of all the awards he intends to get for this project that he has not put nearly enough effort into.
Of course Mallorie who’s practically been leading the shoot alongside her other PA duties will not get the credit she deserves, nor will she get any accolades in the way Cage will for the garbage pile that this movie is.
Cage is playing in a system that favours men like him. However, people like MJ and Mallorie are playing it too. If they grit their teeth and suffer through this shoot then they can both use his name for the stepping stool that he is, turning the ass into something as pointless and inanimate as his script is.
Cage McKnight is a raging asshole. MJ loathes him and all he stands for. The only consolation for working with him, is that shortly all his film will be is just another line on her resume, and soon enough, it won’t even be the reason people remember her.
That’s a kind of vindication that can keep her going with every dull word that falls from her lip.
Not everyone can say the same thing. Some people get tired of putting in double the work for less than half the credit while the likes of Cage McKnight hide away at craft services. Some people let their work speak for them in other ways than just continuing on and bettering their career. Some people want revenge.
Production had already been delayed multiple times because of Cage’s incompetence. Today, it seemed like it would finally be shut down.
It’s hard to continue filming when the wall of your studio has been ripped out. The culprit follows, some old employee of Cage’s who’d decided to show his worth in a different kind of way.
If he weren’t using it for nefarious purposes that messed with her already excruciating day, the whole mega robot thing might be quite impressive, MJ thinks to herself, scrambling back with a hand on the scruff of a PA’s neck who was frozen in place.
“Give me your phone.” She demands of the guy who is stumbling over his own feet as MJ continues to pull him back from the rubble that is falling from the roof.
The robot takes a step into the studio. Loud, mechanical and maniacal laughter echoing out from it’s speakers.
“Now!” MJ presses again. The urgency in her voice startles the kid and a phone is being pressed into her hand before he turns and starts sprinting away.
She isn’t far behind, fumbling as she tries to dial.
Strange how for years she couldn’t even remember the person on the other end of the phone, couldn’t have told anyone his name or what he looked like just left with a feeling and a hole in her memory where he’d once been.
Now, it’s second nature to reach for him. Ways to contact him drilled into her mind for his comfort. Promises whispered to each other in the early days of a shaky friendship that were needed to relay the foundations of them.
At one point she’d thought Peter overcautious. Time and time again, he’s been proven right for his worry. Time and time again, she’s reached out to him even when she could handle it herself- transparency and trust.
“Hello?” His confused voice asks. She doesn’t have time to worry about how tired he sounds when a claw from the machine cuts a little too close to her side, attempting to make a grab for her.
“Robot at the studio.” She pants out. Her lungs are aching. The warehouse they’d been calling home for the last few weeks had always seemed too small when it came to their stunts – the ceiling feeling too close to her head when she was up on the rigs, the floor feeling like it arrived too soon each time she was dropped.
Now, as she’s sprinting across it, she realises it’s expanse.
“MJ?” Peter asks, concern dripping in his voice and replacing the confusion.
“Help. Now. Please.” She huffs out, ducking behind a wall to try and catch her breath. “He’s got Cage. Someone’s going to get hurt.”
“Get out of there.” She can hear rustling and him jumping across something, probably trying to hop into the suit.
“I’m trying.”
“I’m on my way.”
The sound of the wind fills her ears. The sound of mechanics hissing behind her follows it. She needs to move again.
“Stay safe, get out of there. I’m gonna handle this.”
Once upon a time she might have been frustrated that he was effectively cutting her out of this all, pushing her away from the very danger that she had dragged him into. Not because she had any dire need to throw herself into a fight she had no place in, but because the decisions Peter made for her was a sore spot.
MJ had grown a lot in their time apart, but healing that sore spot from when they were teenagers had left them all acting a little immature at times.
Now they know better.
He doesn’t phrase it as a question, but it is. He’s asking her to trust him. He’s asking her to help by keeping his head clear.
“Stay safe.” MJ echoes back to him before hanging up.
Neither of them will be able to focus if they can hear the other.
It’s Sunday, and the only day in the last two weeks that she and Peter have managed to find time in their schedule that hasn’t been interrupted by a last minute audition call, ADR sessions, classes needing a teacher or another attack on the city.
They’re making the most out of it by trying to have a relatively normal date.
Only relatively because it includes getting coffee before reaching heights in the city through less normal means.
However, whether it’s his luck or hers, they get interrupted once again.
“Miss Watson, Miss Watson!” Someone shouts, racing in between the crowds of the street and eagerly shoving a phone into her face.
“I'm not going to address you if you keep putting that camera so close to my face. Let’s show some respect now.” MJ replies firmly. The pap took a definitive step back. “Thank you. As a prize for showing basic courtesy, ask away.”
The guy at least has the decency to look sheepish. He must be new at this.
“Who’s with you today?” He asks, jerking his head over her shoulder.
MJ knows exactly who is there, but she’s surprised that the pap has taken note of him.
Peter has an uncanny ability to disappear almost immediately once he’s clocked a camera. He recognizes its a part of her life now, and hasn’t made a single complaint about the attention she’ll occasionally get on the streets, but he has no interest in drawing any of it to himself.
She also thinks that there’s some lingering feelings about this kind of invasion of privacy leftover from senior year. Peter’s been through this cycle. No one remembers but MJ, Ned and him – how he’d gone from the most famous boy in the world to fading completely from all their eyes.
They never felt the need to discuss this before. They were just friends, and people would treat him the same way they treat Ned or Flash. They’ve not made an announcement or told anyone aside from the people who need to know, but things are different now.
They should probably talk about it.
This is slowly becoming more and more a staple in her life. One she’d prefer to live without if she could, but it looks as though on her current trajectory, she won’t have much of a choice.
This is a part of his life he doesn’t want to look back to. The pressures that it had brought upon him resulting in irreparable fissures.
She doesn’t want to be a reminder of that pain anymore than he had wanted to be a cause of it for her.
She also doesn’t want to deny what they’ve got. It’s theirs and theirs alone, MJ doesn’t want to be known for her relationships. It’ll come. It always does – she’ll be asked about her love life and people will have their opinions.
She’s proud of them though, and proud of where they’ve come from. Finding a way that they can have this with all the questions is important.
They should talk about it.
They don’t have time to right now, and she doesn’t know how to form the words even if they were alone.
“My bodyguard.” MJ lies, looking forward and continuing on with her walk.
It might not be the best move, she could have just claimed he was a friend, but this is a silent way to tell Peter that regardless of the mess that they’ve got to wade through, there’s still a secret joint history there.
Theirs, just theirs.
Behind her, she can hear Peter snort. For now the message has been received.
Over the course of the next few months Peter gets a lot of new jobs.
After they’re spotted in a grocery store by a fan he’s hired as her chef – MJ fires him when he nearly burns her apartment down trying to make dumplings from scratch.
Peter loses someone – a contact in the police department. He’d told her that the guy’s kid had given him a knock-off Spider-Man watch as a present so that ‘he’d always have a hero with him’.
Her neighbour spots him hanging by her window and crawling in – MJ tells her that Spider-Man is just a fan. They both know she’s lying, but she’s not worried about that one getting out.
He gets labelled as her driver when a talk show host pulls up a photo of her watching on as Johnny Storm and Peter attempt to fix her car’s engine. The focus of the conversation was mostly on her apparently rumoured relationship with Johnny, who she only knew through Peter’s connection to him, but they ask about the ‘cute brunette’ anyway – She fires Peter before the episode even airs. He can’t legally drive her anywhere.
Peter never says a word of it.
They should talk about it, but MJ doesn’t want to mess with a good thing.
For every ridiculous title she gives to him, held together by a small amount of truth, she gets to go home to the reality of the situation. She gets to wrap herself up in him and ignore the issue for a little longer.
She knows that they should talk about it.
Peter knows it too.
It’s only so long before someone connects the dots and realises that this man cannot be the jack of all trades that she says he is. Someone will get a little too close, and then they’ll be thrown back to the thing that had torn them apart in the first place and taken them years to get back from.
They’re in her kitchen when they finally talk about it.
Peter biding his time by crowding her against the counter.
“You know Spider-Man isn’t a mercenary, right? He can’t be hired out by private holdings, even big name celebrities like MJ Watson can buy him.” He asks.
“Good thing I wasn’t with Spider-Man then, huh?” She replies, dragging the peeler down. Peter laughs into her neck.
“And you hate when I cook.”
“I don’t hate it, I just enjoy doing it myself.”
“And driving?”
“Peter, you don’t have a license.” MJ sighs, putting everything down to turn in his arms.
“Thank you.” Peter whispers, nosing along her jaw while MJ tries to get a hold of her breathing. The words are barely audible and in-between his lips and his hands, MJ is struggling to process what he’s really trying to say with them.
This is what they do. They have big conversations through moments like this. They’re good at this part. They always have been.
It was easier for them to fall into this part of things again when they first decided to ‘try’ again. They didn’t talk about the things they should have, instead chasing the silence away with bodies pressed against walls.
It wasn’t until they had to address the next part of things did they realise it wasn’t entirely sustainable for them.
“What?”
Peter doesn’t reply, instead continuing on with his path down her neck. Against her better judgement, she gently pushes at him.
They should talk about it.
They’re so close to doing just that.
Peter sighs, his breath tickling her as he tips his head, forehead resting against her collarbone.
MJ waits.
He sighs again.
One beat.
Then another.
He lifts his head and looks at her. His eyes blown wide, excited and eager to get back to what they were doing but under it all – worry.
“You don’t have to say anything about me. I don’t need to be anyone out there... Honestly, I don’t think I can be.”
MJ doesn’t say anything, letting Peter continue, but he takes her silence to mean something else, quickly back tracking on himself.
“N-Not like that. I don’t think I can do the whole attention thing again. Not yet.” He swallows. “I know that this is different, and I know what happened last time wasn’t-... I’m not ready for so many people to know my name again, you know?”
He looks at her.
Peter looks so much younger than he is. He’s not just her boyfriend, but a man who understands so much what it’s like to have every part of their life under scrutiny – who had then sacrificed that very name just to protect the same people who’d been talking about him.
“You’re okay with them saying whatever they want? You’re okay with me saying nothing about you?” MJ asks, needing to clarify what it is that he’s saying.
Peter’s worry softens, smiling at her and bringing his hand up from her waist to her cheek.
“What happens out there, isn’t what’s happening in here, right?”
MJ nods, warmth spreading across her cheeks. She smiles and his broadens in response.
“Anyone they say you’re dating isn’t going to compare to you.” He says, leaning down and keeping his lips a breath away from hers. “I mean, I’m already the least interesting thing about you. So, I don’t really care if I’m a nobody, and you’re dating Johnny or if I’m your valet. I don’t care so long as you come home to me.”
“That’s my line.” MJ grins, leaning up and kissing him, bringing her hand up to tangle into his hair.
“I’m borrowing it.” Peter murmurs against her mouth.