Chapter Text
“I’ve got it memorized. There's no reason for me to freak out.”
MJ peers out the window of the car. The familiar sights of Manhattan pass by at a lazy pace as the driver navigates the traffic. That doesn’t make it any less overwhelming as she takes everything in through the tinted glass. The buildings stretch up higher than she can see from the car, no matter how much she cranes her neck. The constant stream of people tumbles like a cataract over sidewalks and crossings.
"Other than having human emotions, you mean," Liz counters on the other side of the phone. "You're nervous, MJ. It's natural."
"'Nervous' isn't in my programming."
"I forgot to tell you, I hacked into your database when you crashed on the night of your twenty-first."
"So that's how we became friends."
MJ notes the smile in Liz's voice as she continues. "Yep. You're enough of a lightweight that one shot knocks down your firewall. I'm just glad it was only you, me, and Zoha. That would've been hard for even me to spin." Though she would never admit it, the voice of her publicist and best-friend makes MJ feel better. It's something about her presence; it manages to be both warm and authoritative.
Liz Allan is a talent, there’s no denying that. She’s worked hard to become one of the best names in the business, and she's achieved it at a young age. But MJ knows better than anyone that being a young woman in entertainment is an uphill battle. The amount of stress Liz is under at any given moment is paralyzing, but she's so good at navigating it that MJ sees her counsel as more valuable than her PR work.
"Well, you're the only one who's managed that, so don't let it get out," MJ instructs. She hears a soft, weary laugh across the speaker.
MJ's eyes narrow, focusing on the power lines on either side of the street. "Enough about my glitches. How are you?"
It is quiet on the other end of the line, and MJ does not bother to fill it. Liz sighs in surrender, and MJ knows that she is lowering her own protective programming.
“I’m a bit flustered right now.” Her voice trails off. MJ can tell Liz doesn't want to discuss it.
“You have a right to be,” MJ replies with the hint of a grin on her lips. “Certain species of animals die when exposed to a quarter of the stress you’re under.”
Over the background noise of clicking keys on the other end of the phone, MJ can pick up on Liz’s amused hum. “Validation is nice,” she jokes over the other end of the phone. “Even when it’s… Whatever that was.”
“If you were a coral, you would be dead.”
“Charming,” comes Liz's dry remark.
MJ grins as her eyes catch on a billboard advertising the next upcoming movie she’s in, a psychological thriller. Liz has just finished with the film's press tour, which is one of the several reasons MJ’s publicist is so stressed. It was enough planning to fill up all the extra time in MJ’s schedule, so she can’t even imagine how much Liz has done.
“I’m ordering dinner for at my place tonight,” MJ decides. “We can work together, and it’ll either be a celebration or consolation meal."
“Sounds good to me,” Liz answers with a more cheerful note in her voice. “But you’ve got what they're looking for. If they don’t see it, then it’s their problem.”
“I know,” MJ says simply as her eyes glaze over. Her tone hints towards something more, and she knows that Liz picks up on it because she waits for MJ to continue. MJ takes a deep breath, pursing her lips.
“I thinking about how important this could be,” she admits, blinking once, then twice. “I’ve loved Austen for a long time. She made incredible strides for women in the world of literature, and I-"
"MJ."
Liz knows MJ better than that, and MJ sighs as her manager stops her method of deflection. MJ hesitates, choosing her words.
"This is about so much more than that. To a lot of people, this story is the epitome of romance. Do you know how groundbreaking it would be for them to see a black girl telling it?”
Liz lets out a sigh on the other end of the phone, and MJ hears a note of wistfulness in it. “I know,” MJ’s manager breathes, and MJ’s nerves crescendo in response to that simple admission. “I know. It would change the game. But I need you to know it’s not your job to single-handedly change decades of systemic racism."
“I-”
“MJ.” Liz’s voice is firm as she continues. “I’m not saying you don’t keep fighting. But you won't win if you are fighting yourself at the same time." The words are heavy, and MJ feels their weight as silence stretches between them. “Got it?”
“Copy,” MJ responds. She takes a deep breath as the car pulls up to the studio. MJ straightens up for a moment, closing her eyes and opening them. “Alright… I’m here. I’ll tell you how it went after."
“Break a leg,” Liz instructs. “Maybe two."
“Do they have to be mine? 'Cuz legs are legs, I could always pull a Tonya Harding-”
"MJ?"
"Yes?"
"If you break your legs before this tour, I will end your life," Liz says sweetly. The line clicks.
As soon as the phone is back in her lap, a horde of wasps swarms in her stomach. She wants this... She wants Elizabeth Bennet. MJ wants to be the one to show a new generation of young girls it's alright to be clever. To say no and to mean it. To speak boldly and look the way MJ does at the same time.
Liz is right. As MJ steps out of the car and thanks the driver, she is not running over what she knows in her mind. Instead, she forces all the thoughts from her mind as she strides towards the elevator.
MJ closes her eyes and singles in on a tangle of feelings.
Slipping away from a crowded gathering and letting herself fill an empty room down the hall, pressing against the edges in the silence. Slipping out into the dark of the night and counting the stars. Laughing with the breeze and naming the trees as she walks past them.
MJ reaches for Elizabeth, and she feels a breath of relief when she finds her.
As the elevator doors open, MJ feels the strange urge to laugh rising in her chest. She manages to keep her face composed as she strides towards the studio, but the corner of her lips quirks up. A quiet sort of confidence begins to spread through her at the thought of what is to come.
She is going to step onscreen and let go, and it will be up to them to sift through what she leaves behind.
It takes either a few moments or hours, after MJ has entered the studio, for the man behind the desk to get the last bit of information he needs. Once she has answered a few questions, he lightly taps the earpiece he is wearing and gestures for her to follow. MJ does so, the neat flats she is wearing quiet on the slick floor.
The next step of the journey is down a hall and through a few doorways. Then, MJ is there.
She recognizes the setup for the screen test: a green screen, a few cameras, and the place where she will stand and deliver the lines. She has already done a few tests with various performers for this casting.
But if this is the last one, she knows it will be with someone meant for Darcy. MJ has tested with potential Janes and Wickhams and even Carolines already, but not with any Darcy. Her brain has kept itself busy over the past few weeks trying to figure out why. She has narrowed it down to two options: either she is not seriously being considered for Lizzie, or they have already settled on their Darcy.
As soon as MJ's eyes find him, she knows it's the latter.
Her confidence is not shaken, but MJ's eyes widen in surprise for a moment. She knows that face, though no introductions took place. MJ knows this man because of her careful observation of his career, ever since they both attended NYU. MJ knows his talent, his passion, and of course his mentor. Any protegé of Tony Stark, Hollywood's biggest name, is bound to meet a certain level of stardom. Peter Parker most certainly has.
MJ releases a breath she didn't know she was holding as she steps into the frame with him. For a moment, she adjusts her posture and observes his appearance before her. The brown curls that are usually slicked back in interviews are free and a bit disheveled today. Earnest brown eyes peer at her, sizing her up in the same professional manner with a warm gleam in their depths.
He's a bit shorter than she is, and he is dressed in the same style as MJ. Both are wearing clothing a bit nicer than casual. He wears a white button-up with sleeves rolled up to his elbow, as well as dark pants and clean dress shoes. She is wearing a button-up as well, though hers is a pale cream with a vest over it, and her hair is loose.
After a moment, the man beside her takes a breath and offers her a genuine grin. "I... It's nice to meet you," he offers, sticking out a hand to shake. "My name is Peter, Peter Parker."
Michelle finds the urge to laugh returning for a different reason. It's almost... Endearing, that he would think to introduce himself. Of course she knows who he is; he's one of the biggest heart-throbs in film at the moment. She's met so many actors who assume she knows them, barely seeing her until after the test. They only see her as worthy of respect after she has given everything to her performance, and even then they see her as an asset. But his introduction speaks to humility MJ rarely sees in other actors.
"Michelle Jones," she replies, taking his hand to shake. It is square and warm in her own slender, cool fingers, and there is sturdiness to the shake MJ decides she likes.
"Of course. When I-" Before they can get far past introductions, there is gesturing from behind the camera and both fall silent.
"Rolling."
The transformation is immediate. The earnest, personable man who stood beside MJ a moment ago changes completely. His posture is different; the musculature of his face shifts. His eyes, when she turns to look into them, swim with emotions written into the scene both have memorized. Some feelings within his gaze are even more nuanced.
Something sparks in MJ's chest, an excited thrill that has her blood rushing and her pulse racing. Oh... He's good.
Time to match him, to let their minds tangle and their words chase each other like specters.
"Mr. Darcy."
The shocked gasp leaves involuntarily as she plays with stepping back. The muscles in her body hover over the decision for a moment before deciding against it. MJ straightens, blinking as her lips struggle with what to say.
"I can go no longer without thanking you for your kindness to my sister."
Across from her, Peter catches his breath. It is barely audible, but it is enough for MJ to notice. His lips part as he watches her speak.
"Ever since I have known of it, I... Have been anxious to offer you thanks. On behalf of my family." MJ allows a loose curl to slip from behind her ear, not bothering to tuck it away.
Her eyes will not leave him. She can tell by the way his gaze seems to drink in her own that his own eyes are not in danger of wavering.
The silence that stretches between them is not interrupted for a moment. When MJ continues, he hangs on each syllable.
"I know what mortification it must have cost you."
He takes a breath as though to speak, but she will not be silenced in her thanks. "Let me say this." The gratitude is sincere, of course, but there is something MJ is not saying still... Something Elizabeth is not saying.
When Peter speaks, it is in an accent so flawless and technical that MJ has to stop herself from reveling in it.
"Your family," he breathes, "owes me nothing. I thought only of you."
For a moment, he seems to face the same struggle she did only moments ago. However, he elects to take a step. MJ's breath catches in her own throat.
But this happens every time. It is a part of the struggle of acting. Making the decision to release control never gets any easier. But something deep and quiet whispers it will be worth it.
In response to her reaction, a conflicted expression crosses Peter's countenance. Frustrated confusion brims in his eyes, and it is so raw MJ can feel it as he struggles for words.
"You are too generous to trifle with me." The compliment he settles upon causes MJ to release the breath sharply. He continues in spite of it. "If your feelings are what they were last April, tell me so."
MJ's lips part as she struggles for breath. Part of it is Peter, part of it is the acting, and part of it is adrenaline surging through her as she remains frozen.
"My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever."
He closes the distance between them, and she feels the spark that can only come from their passion for this work colliding. Neither moves; neither looks away.
Her brown eyes get lost in his, and her loose curl drifts softly as he settles closer than they have ever stood.
His voice holds a slight, deep rasp that was not there before as his eyes roam her face, searching for something MJ knows he will find. "But if those feelings have changed..." His stare meets hers once more.
"I would have to tell you that you have bewitched me."
A shuddering breath leaves MJ. Her lips curl up into a careful, disbelieving smile as her eyes drift shut. She makes no attempt to hide the greed with which she drinks in his whispered words.
"Body, and soul, both are yours. And I never wish to be parted from you this day forward, because I-"
Her eyes open, piercing him to the core without a moment's notice. He reacts immediately, and the breathlessness in his voice pairs with the widening of his eyes as it tears itself from him.
"I love you."
For the first time since they began, MJ draws a deep breath. Her chest rises, and as it falls she closes her eyes once more to steel herself. They open again as she gathers herself up, and his gaze has not left her for an instant.
The ghost of a smile accompanies her soft hum. "Well, then."
Peter is an incredible actor. She can pinpoint the exact moment the hope enters his eyes, and it nearly freezes her once more.
Nearly.
She closes the distance between them. Her hands find his own, and his fingers lace with hers as if they have longed for this contact for months. Their tangled fingers press against his chest, and her eyes lift to his own.
Quiet joy, precise and technical beyond measure, glows from every line of his face. Admiration fills her, and it is admiration for Darcy and Peter both as their eyes travel each others' faces. It is reading, in a way... Drinking in the best part of a novel that is familiar to the reader, again and again and again.
Once each has a chance to drink in the other, MJ presses her forehead to his own. His eyes drift shut as he soaks in the contact, and with a soft laugh, hers do the same. Just for a moment, MJ breathes in Peter Parker and loses herself to his rhythm. She trusts him.
Her mind betrays her concentration. Has MJ ever trusted a scene partner this easily?
The moment envelops her, and then MJ's lips capture his own in a kiss.
He returns it immediately. They are not ordered to stop, and so both carefully explore one another's lips in a quiet, insistent kiss. Peter doesn't push her or ask for more. They both know this is for a scene, and so there is no testing of boundaries.
That does not mean Peter is not ardent as his lips speak against hers. One hand comes to cup her cheek, the other to tangle in her hair. MJ's own arms loop around his neck to bring him closer. His lips are soft, and his gentle caution erases any doubts MJ sometimes feels when confronted with an onscreen kiss.
They both feel the ending when it comes. Once they have pulled away, it is natural to resume the posture they had maintained before, foreheads touching. It is only once she hears the words from behind the camera that MJ's eyes flutter open.
When they do, Peter's eyes lock on her own with something shocked and earnest within them. That, coupled with his reddened lips, causes MJ to look away.
The business which follows is something MJ is more than familiar with. However, she is not as focused as she should be. MJ has learned a lot about Peter through acting with him, but this is perhaps the most interesting discovery.
Peter Parker is, without a doubt, an incredible kisser.
No. Nevermind that, MJ reminds herself as she leaves the building. Nevermind that she just experienced the most immediate click she has ever had with a fellow actor. That is a thought for a later date. Right now, there are more important things to think about.
Namely, the Thai food that has Liz's and MJ's names written on it.
"I got the call.”
Liz is silent on the other end of the line, holding her breath. "Okay. Okay."
"Yeah."
"Em, it's fine. There are a bunch of other jobs and a bunch of smarter directing teams. You've got a great body of work, and you-"
"I got the call a week ago."
"What?"
The confusion in Liz's voice causes MJ to grin, though her friend can't see it from where she stands with a screen to her ear in her living room.
"I wasn't allowed to tell you until today. Well, fifteen minutes from now, actually, but I figured my FBI agent wouldn't rat out our conversation over just fifteen-"
"MJ."
A laugh leaves her lips, one that is floating and filled with disbelief. "I got it."
"You got it?"
"Yeah!"
MJ can hear clattering on the other end of the phone as Liz leaps to her feet. "Oh, my God!”
"You know, you don't have to use my formal title.”
"I'm coming over. Now."
"What?"
"We're going to watch it hit the internet together!" Liz insists, and MJ hears the door to her apartment slam shut as the noise on the other end of the receiver echoes in a stairwell. "Please tell me you have-"
"Lemon ice for me and strawberry ice cream for you."
"O goddess divine, how you know me. Be there in ten."
"You live twenty minutes away."
"I meant what I said."
There is a click on the other end of the phone before the blissful sigh leaves MJ's lips. She begins to walk to the kitchen. It's ridiculous, but she knows she is beaming. She has repressed it all week-- why stop now?
It took a much shorter amount of time for them to contact her agent than it usually does. When MJ got the call a week ago, there was no one to tell the news to; she wasn't allowed. When the official announcement comes out in fifteen minutes everyone will know.
Waiting for Liz bores MJ faster than it should. MJ plops on the sofa a few minutes in, and her eyes find her phone. Instagram opens and MJ begins to scroll, pausing to like a few stray posts. Her eyes flicker to the clock on her phone. Liz is officially late-- it’s been another ten minutes, and it’s time.
Excitement surges through MJ, and she moves to her coffee table. Her agent sent a ribbon-wrapped copy of Pride and Prejudice on behalf of the director. The beautiful copy sits on the table, no matter how she longs to open it.
MJ snaps a picture of the novel on the table. When she posts it to her story, it is with the words, “Let’s start." written in white.
The buzzing begins almost immediately, and MJ mutes her phone.
A thought begins to itch at the back of her mind, but MJ shoves it to the side. After another five minutes of waiting for Liz and ignoring her phone, she is unable to resist. She shouldn't open Twitter-- that would be cheating. But maybe...
It doesn’t take long to find his profile. MJ barely types in the first two letters of his name before the profile shows up in the search results. There is a pink and orange halo surrounding the headshot of her co-star, and she pauses a moment before selecting it.
Immediately, the face of Peter Parker leaps onto her screen. MJ blinks as she realizes he is walking outside, his face awash with bright light. His face lurches in a repeated motion that follows the pattern of footsteps, and the angle of the camera is constantly shifting. MJ can’t keep a small smirk from her face.
He’s atrocious with a camera for a film actor, but somehow it’s a bit endearing.
“Hi, everybody! It’s me, Peter Parker, and, uh, well… I have some news for you!”
The introduction reminds MJ of the one he gave her, so earnest. His voice is as boyish and excitable as his face, and the image of an overeager puppy on a walk is called to mind as he walks through some park contained within her phone screen.
“So, I am so excited to announce the next project I’m going to be working on. Drumroll…” Peter takes a cheesy pause and a deep breath, and a little huff of amusement leaves MJ despite herself.
He's so... Him. MJ doesn't know anyone else in the industry who would be such a major dork on their social media, but she's starting to understand why he's amassed this following. For all his playful awkwardness, it feels authentic.
“I am going to be working on Pride and Prejudice," Peter informs the camera with a growing grin, "and I am going to be the Darcy to the incredible Michelle Jones’s Elizabeth !”
MJ catches her breath, though she isn't sure why. It's the first time she's heard her name attached to the project publicly, and well... The feeling is amazing.
It's also the first time she's heard him say her name, but that's completely unrelated.
“I’m so excited to get going on this film, and I already know you are gonna love this. I am honored to be working with such open-minded, powerful people, and the story will be beautiful.”
The sound of her door unlocking draws MJ from her phone, and her head shoots up. She suddenly feels caught in the act, even though she wasn't doing anything. MJ clears her throat and stands as she tries to shake off the feeling someone walked in on her in the middle of an unsavory internet search.
“Damn, I’m sorry," Liz groans, tossing her coat on a stool by the island in MJ's kitchen. "The traffic was awful. Did I miss it?"
“Only a little,” MJ replies, walking to her kitchen cabinets to grab two spoons, “but don’t worry. I promise the internet will be exploding long enough for us to get some good screenshots." Liz grins at MJ from across the island, and MJ has to suppress her own smile. "Ice cream's in the freezer."
By the time MJ has brought the spoons to her coffee table and grabbed them two blankets, Liz manages to find the ice cream and lemon ice. They settle into their normal positions on the couch the way they always do. MJ reaches for her tub of lemon ice while passing Liz a spoon. Liz snatches the utensil, pretending to consider whether to give the container to MJ.
“There’s no way you’re winning this time,” she declares as she gives up her frozen hostage. MJ immediately opens the top, scooping out the hardened layer of icy, frozen goodness on the top.
"Keep telling yourself that, Allan," MJ replies before she spoons the lemony frost onto her tongue. She lets it melt there as she pulls up Twitter on her phone. MJ is ready to devote herself to the task she and Liz have mastered: finding the most ridiculous Twitter handles in the online buzz about a new project.
Liz clicks her tongue as she begins searching as well. She's good; she only needs one hand to scroll and screenshot while the other brings the pink ice cream to her lips. MJ is more focused, eyes sharp as they search through the tweets. There are a lot of fun reactions. MJ likes several featuring her favorite GIFs as she searches for usernames like 'brony6969,' which is currently her frontrunner. Even more of the posts picture either her story, screenshotted, or still shots from Peter's Instagram Story. Some of them show his face paused in intentionally strange expressions, and MJ likes these too.
A few tweets cause her to pause in her scrolling. The slurs aren't anything she's unused to. They follow most of her projects in the beginning (and often throughout), and there's nothing she can do. As long as there are hatred and prejudice, there will be people begging for her to fail.
Well, she does love disappointing a few racists.
Peter Parker's voice playing next to her pulls MJ from her thoughts. MJ starts before realizing Liz is watching the Instagram story. She glances at her best friend with a raised brow. Liz sticks her tongue out at MJ from behind her phone before returning to the video, eyes scanning it. For a moment, MJ thinks she sees Liz's publicist look slide onto her face. MJ decides she is mistaken as her friend looks up at her with a playful smile.
“Aw, he’s a sweetheart,” she comments, and MJ can tell Liz means it. MJ is about to nod in agreement, but Liz's next question catches her off-guard.
“Any good chemistry?”
MJ blinks, but luckily years of sarcasm have equipped her with an auto-comeback feature. “Nah, we didn’t click. It’ll be fine, though, it’s not like anyone will be paying that much attention to our relationship.”
Liz lets out a noncommittal hum, turning back to her phone. MJ watches her start the video again, this time muted as she studies his face. “Good read?”
“Yeah.” MJ wants to leave it at that, but then Liz's keen eyes appear over the phone again. MJ realizes she needs to say more before Liz will let up on this particular topic. She isn't sure why she is so secretive about this, but that's a thought for later. “We read the second proposal.”
“You’re awfully quiet," Liz observes, leaning forward with her phone forgotten on her knee. "Was it that bad?”
“No! Um, no.” AutoComeback.exe is not working, and MJ curses it internally as she manages to regain her composure. Liz is getting a smug, sly grin that only increases MJ's frustration. “It was good.”
“Was it, now?” Liz arches a single eyebrow as she studies MJ like a lab creature in a terrarium.
“It was good onscreen chemistry, I mean,” MJ corrects herself, pleased she finally has managed to collect herself. “He’s good at his job, I’m good at mine”
“And did your job happen to be making out on camera?”
MJ sighs, shaking her head as she returns to her phone. If Liz is going to try to get her worked up, she can at least feign nonchalance. "You’re worse than the tabloids will be.”
The response she is expecting doesn't come. When MJ looks up over her phone, she finds Liz contemplating her. A surge of panicked, defensive confusion shoots through MJ. She narrows her eyes at her publicist. “What?”
“Nothing.” Very, very clearly not 'nothing.' Liz returns to her phone, but before MJ can get anything else out of her, Liz has moved on.
“Ooh, I’ve got ‘tit’ in binary over here.”
MJ swears and returns to her phone as Liz takes a screenshot. She will not lose this one; somehow, she knows owing Liz a favor at the moment would be disastrous.
“You want me to what?”
The words leave MJ’s lips before she can stop them as she stares at her laptop screen in disbelief.
From her current home in MJ's screen, Liz does not seem surprised by the outburst. In fact, her best friend and publicist is cool as she responds.
"It’s not just me, MJ.” Liz pushes up her glasses as she continues, arching a brow. “I’ve had several phone calls with Mr. Hogan, Peter’s manager, to discuss it. We both agree it would be mutually beneficial.”
MJ lets out a disbelieving laugh, running a hand through her hair, which is damp from a shower. She turns back to the screen. “I’m sorry, Liz. you know I would do anything in the world for you, but this-”
“--would happen to fall under our agreement of an owed favor,” Liz finishes for her, offering MJ an innocent smile. “Unless, of course, you found something to top 'Binary Boob?'”
MJ purses her lips as Liz mentions the lost competition. She knows Liz won't force her into this, even if it would compromise the sanctity of their pre-production tradition. Still, that would require MJ to have a legitimate reason. She's going to have to do some serious thinking to come up with a justification.
“How could he benefit from being in a relationship with me?” MJ presses. “He’s got any role he wants under his belt.”
“Not a relationship,” Liz corrects, “at least, not a real one. It’s pretending for the press." MJ lets out a breath, but Liz continues on.
"You’re both actors, and it’s been done before. Nothing completely insane. He’s got charm, but he could use a bit of press that makes him seem... Independent."
That is something MJ can't fight. It's smart, she realizes begrudgingly. Almost all of Peter's press has come from his mentor, Tony Stark... It would be good for him to be in the news for a reason other than that. MJ can understand the need for him to flesh himself out.
"And we both know it would bring good press to the movie," Liz adds, a prospect which causes MJ to bite her lip. "Plus, it might get you some attention from demographics you wouldn’t have gotten otherwise.”
“You mean his fangirls,” MJ remarks dryly. She lets out a breath, resting her head back against the sofa. “This sounds an awful lot like a soap opera.”
“Great, maybe after this you’ll star in one of those,” Liz replies without missing a beat. The soft huff of laughter that leaves MJ is not lost on her publicist, whose gaze softens.
“Look, hon. It’s just a few behind-the-scenes photos of you two looking cozy, a couple of red carpet walks together, maybe some interviews. You’re actors; it won’t be too difficult, and it won’t go behind closed doors. We’ll walk you through every step.”
“Because there’s nothing hotter than being wingmanned by a set of agents,” MJ teases. Liz seems to take her attempt at humor as a sign MJ won’t take too much work. It does take a bit of convincing, but Liz has her, and MJ knows her best friend knows it.
Liz understands that despite her protests, there isn’t anything MJ wouldn’t do for her career. Besides, MJ knows how many young girls see Peter Parker as someone unattainable, especially the ones that look like her. So why not show them that, even for a short time, it’s possible to be with someone, be an individual, and have the life of your dreams?
Not that Peter Parker is included in MJ’s dreams. That would be ridiculous.