Chapter Text
“What do you mean you don’t have it??”
It takes considerable effort for MJ not to roll her eyes at both the guy in front of her and the two guys on stage belting their hearts out. Off key and completely out of tune after the number of beers they’ve had, it’s definitely not her favorite sound.
Working at a karaoke bar is probably the furthest thing from what she thought she’d be doing to make money between classes and studying, but the nocturnal schedule fits in with how she likes to organize her time, leaving her shifts at 2am and working on school work until 6 or 7 before falling to a deathlike nap until her first class at 12pm.
She’s in class until 5 where she’ll squeeze in her evening study session with Betty on Tuesdays and Thursdays and then she’s grabbing dinner (and maybe another nap if she’s really tired) before heading back to the bar for her 9:30pm shift.
It’s an absolutely insane arrangement of time, and every morning when Mariah gets up and sees her sitting at their rickety dining table with a stack of books and a highlighter, she glares at her like she’s angry on her behalf about her sleep schedule.
Even after her roommate lovingly ( lovingly!) tells her to “go the fuck to bed, MJ” before shooing her away physically, she’s always back the next morning, hair piled up into a messy but sturdy knot on the top of her head and glasses slipping down her nose as she sips at a too strong cup of earl grey.
It’s a routine that relies on her very consistent albeit, eventful job at Eddie’s. And that is how she finds herself face to face with such fascinating people every night. Fascinating people like this mop of curly brown hair that’d been making eyes at her for the better part of an hour before he finally approached her booth asking to sing the most overdone over sung karaoke song known to man.
She hates to be the bearer of bad news, but she hates hearing this song even more than that, so…
“Nope,” she tells him, popping her “p” with extra gusto. “We don’t. And I assure you, it keeps me up at night.”
The guy, she doesn’t know his name yet cause he hasn’t signed up on her list, leans in a little closer, “Well I hope not all night,” he tells her, smirking in a way he has no right to since…well, he doesn’t really know her.
She chooses to ignore that bit in favor of sliding a brightly colored slip of paper across the counter to him.
“Here,” she says, giving him a closed lipped half smile, “drink away your sorrows over my lack of Journey with a free drink.”
“Oh, I didn’t need anything free, I swear,” He glances down at the voucher, half way through sliding it back towards her when she presses her fingers to it, stopping him.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s bar policy. Anytime we don’t have a song I get to pass out one of these and tell you to come back next week to redeem it and sing your song.”
And she hates the way his eyes crinkle, mischievous when he looks down and up again, sneakily checking her out as he reaches for the slip, pocketing it this time.
“But, how am I supposed to get my fix now ? You know, performing live gives me such a rush,” he teases and her nose crinkles with her effort to contain her snort of amusement.
“Did you just quote ‘Pitch Perfect’ to me?” And if she wasn’t already sure he had, the way his eyes sparkle with recognition gives it away.
“Yeah, I did. Most people don’t pick up that reference.”
“Okay well…” she trails off, figuring that if this boy wants to stand here and distract her (and he’s cute so he’s welcome to do so), then she should at least know his name.
“Parker,” he grins, too pleased with himself over the fact that she’s actually talking to him. “Peter Parker.”
He tells her his whole name like he’s some kind of James Bond wannabe and it’s too endearing for MJ to make fun of him, “Okay Parker, Peter Parker. Well I’m-”
“Michelle.”
“-not most people.”
The annoying part about Peter Parker is that MJ had no idea who he was just a couple weeks ago and suddenly she sees him everywhere.
In the courtyard outside her lit class, walking out of her favorite cafe while she waits at the stoplight across the street, he’s in her 2pm chemistry lecture. Sat in the very back row, raising his hand to answer every question even though MJ is sure she’s never seen him there before.
Peter never speaks to her, sometimes it seems like he doesn’t even see her and it makes her feel silly and sixteen again when her mind wonders whether he notices her at all.
He doesn’t come back to the bar the next week, not that she’s been looking for him.
Obviously not, but there’s no denying the way she perks up when she sees him slip in with a group of people she’s seen around campus.
His eyes flit over to her immediately and unlike her former high school self, she doesn’t shy away from the attention. She sees him say something to a guy with his arm around a pretty blonde girl, Ned she thinks is his name, and then he’s weaving his way through the drunk bodies to reach her.
Michelle grins then, leaning her forearms on the bar until she’s close enough to whisper and still be heard over the truly tragic cover of “The Real Slim Shady” the girl from her 4pm chem lab (which she has a sinking suspicion is also Peter’s 4pm chem lab) is butchering.
“Here to collect or just here to see me?” and for the first time Peter looks frazzled, even as he still holds her gaze. She respects it.
“Yeah,” He ruffles a hand through his hair, and MJ knows it’s a nervous tell just from the short time she’d been watching him throughout that first night.
“Which one?” Peter looks caught and it widens her grin until he can’t help but mirror her, chuckling lightly.
“To collect ,” he clarifies, even if the way he’s eyeing her makes her think it’s more likely a little bit of both. “And to make my debut.”
It’s Michelle’s turn to play coy as she reaches under the counter to retrieve another voucher,
Peter stares at it, a disbelieving laugh bubbling out as he does, “You’re kidding.”
“I’m so sorry to disappoint…”
“Are you? Sorry that is…” She shrugs then, a flighty little thing, and Peter’s back to grinning at her.
“Guess I’ll just have to come back…” He eyes her for a moment, gauging every minuscule change in her expression, tracking the flush spreading down her neck and across her collarbone.
It’s only a little embarrassing how breathless she sounds when she tells him, “guess so.”
Sometimes Mariah picks up shifts when she’s short on cash and MJ doesn’t mind at all seeing her roommate at work too. Today however she’s beginning to wonder if a little space might be good for both of them.
“Hey, am I gonna be accepting any ‘special’ drink tickets today, MJ?”
Fumbling the glass she’d been drying, Michelle turns to her, “I paid for one drink, Ry. And excuse me, who is currently helping you with your bar keep tasks?”
Mariah winks at her, “and we greatly appreciate it. But I wasn’t asking just to tease you, I’m serious. Should I be starting an ‘MJ tab’ for uh- oh, yes- Peter?”
The thing is, Michelle doesn’t know. Peter’s comings and goings are about as unpredictable as anything. He hadn’t been back to class since that first time she saw him and the couple of times she’s seen him around campus he’d looked…exhausted.
It isn’t until Mariah nudges her that she realizes how quiet she’s gotten. “Sorry,” she says, shaking out of her brain fog, “I don’t know if he’s coming.”
Mariah smirks, “That’s okay. I’m sure I’ll be able to scope him out. Don’t worry, your descriptions were very detailed and you’ve so helpfully provided me with a visual anyways.”
“What are you-”
“Oh you can’t possibly think that I didn’t see all your random boy sketches on the kitchen table the other day, can you? I had a feeling those were of him, but your face right now confirms so thanks.”
“That’s not-” Michelle is stunned speechless and her cheeks burn as she grapples for an explanation that will stop this knowing look she can see spreading across her roommate’s face.
Mariah steps over to her then, patting her cheek gently, “It’s okay. I won’t rat you out. I just wanna see this masterpiece up close. Cause if those drawings are doing him justice then-”
“And we’re done talking about this. Completely. Entirely. You’re done,” she tells her, already putting the last glass away and heading to the other side of the bar to set up her own station.
She’s right in the middle of reorganizing the song books when she notices that no one emptied the trash can under her station last night. It’s been known to happen from time to time since it’s just her in this little corner and so it’s not usually full.
After she ties up the bag she let’s Mariah know she’s heading out back to the dumpster for a minute and Mariah waves her off with her free hand.
Michelle has just pushed open the door when she hears it- a deep groan coming out from the other side of the dumpster. It’s muffled but distinctly human and she drops the bag when she sees the red and blue of a familiar suit.
From her vantage point, she can only see his legs, but she’d know that pattern anywhere. Really, as a native New Yorker, she’s always known there was a chance she’d run into him some day, meet him. She can’t say she thought it’d be under these particular circumstances.
Slowly so as not to spook him, she carefully makes her way around the dumpster to see him fully, check if he even wants her help. Nothing could have prepared her for this.
Because there on the ground is 100% Spider-man, clutching at his side where MJ can see thick, red, dribbling from beneath where he’s pressing his fingers. He’s not wearing the mask and when she finally meets his eyes, he has the nerve to smile at her.
“Oh, hey Michelle. Um-don’t freak out or anything, but do you guys have like…a band-aid. I’m pretty sure I got stabbed.”