Author's Note:

Created for Day 4 of Spideychelle Week 2019 on Tumblr!

Today's prompt: Fake Dating

MJ reads the paper.

Oh, what, she's supposed to be above reading the paper because print is dead and the internet offers both more news (stories and outlets) and faster access to it? Tough. She still reads it because her dad still gets it. He's had a subscription since he graduated college and thought reading the Times―tucking it under his arm and flipping through the pages while he rode the subway―was a more accurate measure of adulthood than owning a car. (They still don't have a car, by the way. MJ is never going to learn to drive. Ugh.)

The appeal that drew her to it, at the age of four, was the occasional editorial cartoon, utterly beyond her comprehension. These days, she's a little more interested in the articles on domestic politics, but hey, people are allowed to evolve.

So if you're her, you're MJ, you're living in New York and you're paying attention, you're going to notice the Avengers. Notice shit like violent attacks and streets covered in rubble―although, that's basically the city at rush hour during construction season. She's noticing other things though, Avengers voicing opinions, reviving a feeling of civic interest, pride, and responsibility. She's noticing the tide turning; citizens less interested in blaming superheroes for unscheduled demolition in Manhattan and more interested in who does Hawkeye's tattooing or which karaoke bar Thor can most likely be found at on a Friday night.

And the Avengers' relationships. New Yorkers are feeding on (super-)human interest stories with their faces so close to the pages they just about rub all the ink off with their noses.

It's a terrible thing to know this, to be as observant as MJ is, tracking these changing attitudes and becoming an accidental expert on the path to good PR for the biologically, magically, genetically, or otherwise enhanced. Reading the paper is what gets her in trouble―sooner, rather than later―when Spider-Man starts hanging around.

Technically, he's always hanging (that web shit is strong stuff, by the looks of it), and he's always around. MJ figured out ages ago that Queens is his home base. Still, their borough's just big enough and just crowded enough that she'd never encountered him in person until a few months ago. Now she sees him all. The. Time. He says coincidence, she says to-mah-to, and it really is him saying that because they're officially on speaking terms. It's an improvement to their interactions, mutually decided upon after Spider-Man scared the bejesus out of her when she was standing on her apartment's balcony one day, glanced over the edge, and saw him crawling up the wall.

The deal became that if he was going to drop by, he better be obvious about it. This led to a routine MJ is loath to describe with the word 'charming,' but which may or may not involve her going out to the balcony or chilling by the open window of her bedroom on Saturday mornings, after her parents have left to run errands, and offering Spider-Man a glass of orange juice while they chat and she shares her paper with him. He likes the arts section. She likes watching him read it, sticking to the wall outside her window, the posters for whatever's in theatres appearing upside down.

He joked one time about them catching a Saturday matinee together. She's pretty sure he was joking.

The deal evolves as the weeks go by. MJ's apartment is less of a rest stop between crime-fighting gigs and more of a superhero counselling centre with only one client. Not that Spider-Man is looking to her, a high school student, to mend whatever trauma led to him donning a formfitting red costume and babysitting an entire city, but she's sure giving him a lot of advice lately.

It's just… life stuff, really, and MJ doesn't know where he sees authority when he looks at her, yawning in her jammies as she passes his juice through the open window, but he seems to listen. Maybe her dad was right about the paper; it's possible that reading it makes her appear wise.

But it makes her act like a damn idiot in a crisis.

She's heading to a guidance appointment one Wednesday (it's junior year and MJ is getting some assistance with scouting out colleges) and the halls are empty; she was given permission to leave class five minutes early. When she turns the corner towards the guidance room, there's Spider-Man. Just standing there. Middle of the hallway. MJ drops a textbook and it strikes the ground with a deafening slap.

This is her comfortable weekend companion, the hero of Queens. She adjusted to understanding that Spider-Man can be both, but there doesn't seem to be any room in her mind for him to also exist midmorning at Midtown Tech.

He's staring back at her (she can tell―the aperture of the white eyes on his mask has expanded in shock), arms held away from his body sort of comically, and MJ's trying to recall if she's ever seen him upright before when the jarring old-school bell rings and students flood from the door of every classroom.

Spider-Man bounds towards her, grabs her book from the floor, pushes it to her chest until she grips it, and says, "I know what to do."

Everyone's starting to make sounds of surprise, recognizing the Avenger in their midst, but even though MJ knows Spider-Man is kind of a hero of the people, he's not acknowledging them at all. In fact, he's wrapping his arms around her, and her eyes―boy oh boy―are wide. There's just one thing on her mind besides what his suit feels like against the backs of her hands…

She's praying that Peter isn't seeing this.

"I'll swing by your apartment later," Spider-Man promises, speaking quietly near her ear.

He puts another little squeeze into the hug before stepping back. Reeling, MJ watches him give their audience a polite wave as he walks backwards in the direction of the nearest exit.

"Sorry, guys," he tells the gathered crowd. "Uh, duty calls. I just wanted to stop by and see my girlfriend."

Heads are swivelling to stare at MJ even before she drops the book for the second time.

"How?" she demands of him that evening, pacing tightly on the balcony while her parents laugh along to a sitcom in the living room. "How could that be you 'knowing what to do'?!"

"I was doing what you said," Spider-Man says defensively. He's pacing too, along the balcony's two-inch-wide railing. (She's too mad to be worried.)

"Excuse me? We're putting this on me? When was I an active part of that plan, while I was holding that stupid textbook or while my arms were pinned because you were hugging me? I'd really like to know."

"W-well, it's what you said about public perception of the Avengers."

"Specifics!"

"Like Iron Man," he argues, lowering his voice after how she snapped. "People like hearing about him and Pepper Potts."

"And have you always modeled yourself after Tony Stark, or is this sudden, public relationship announcement your first foray?"

They stare at each other for a minute, Spider-Man balancing and MJ looking up at him―which is kind of weird after they hugged today and she realized he's shorter than she is. She sighs, regretting her harsh words.

"I'm sorry," she offers. "I know what you did was thoughtless―"

"Well―"

"―ill-advised―"

"Literally your advice."

"―and, frankly, moronic―"

"Hey."

"―but I get it, you panicked―"

"I had it under control."

"―so I forgive you."

"Oh. Well, thanks."

"Now, come down here so I don't have to keep resisting the urge to shove you off that railing."

Once Spider-Man flips down (she's already forgiven him―what, does he think he's getting bonus points for landing the dismount?), MJ crosses her arms and gives that red mask of his a stern look.

"Still not thrilled, huh?"

"Good guess," she says dryly.

"I might be missing something here, but… why? I mean, I didn't think I did anything to embarrass you. Did I hurt you somehow?"

MJ shrugs and stares at her slippers.

"People saw."

There's a pause.

"…We already knew that." His tone is almost clueless enough to make her apprehensive that this is the guy she and the rest of Queens have protecting them.

"I don't know if… if a certain person saw."

She's blushing hard to admit even this much of a crush and she'd be mortified if she wasn't making her confession to this socially illiterate superhero.

"Boyfriend?" Spider-Man asks. MJ glances up to see him leaning extremely un-casually against the wall, arms folded a little less tensely than hers.

"You sound skeptical," she accuses.

"You've never mentioned him."

MJ glares for a few seconds before backing down.

"No, he's not my boyfriend. And you didn't know that either because we only ever talk about you."

"I don't have a girlfriend," Spider-Man immediately offers, like he's trying to even things up.

Groaning, she lets her shoulders slump.

"You do now."

"Yeah, I guess it's pretty unlikely that nobody took a picture."

"Safe to assume the students of a school called Midtown Tech are tech-savvy enough to work a cellphone camera. By the way," MJ adds, narrowing her eyes at him, "why were you there?"

"Oh, um, gas leak in one of the Chemistry labs. They dispatch the fire department for that kind of thing and I hate for emergency services to get tied up if I can fix it myself."

"Huh. I had no idea gas leaks were in your repertoire. Thought muggers and bicycle thieves were more your beat."

She's teasing him pretty lightly considering he definitely just lied to her. It's fine, she'll wait to crack him until he's forgotten all about visiting her school.

Spider-Man swings his arms nervously.

"If it's a community problem, I'm on it. I'm just a friendly―"

"―neighbourhood Spider-Man," MJ finishes. "Yeah, I've heard the tagline. And you're also my fake boyfriend until we figure out a way for you to tactfully dump me."

He takes an excited step towards her.

"I know wha―"

She cuts him off with a swiftly raised hand.

"Don't even say it."

This fic is going to go exactly like Affinity War, in that I still don't plan out my writing and have no idea where this is going. Also, with AW, I'd written ten chapters before posting the first one. The chapter you've just read was supposed to be a one-shot, written for a challenge, sooooooooo this is all there is atm.

Hang in there. I'll get my sea legs.