So here we go - chapter one of this actually planned fic! Eleven chapters in all.

This chapter was seriously good fun to write - but Michelle's dialogue is hard because we've seen so little of her.

Please rectify this, Marvel.

For song recommendations, I have a few. Addicted to Progress by The Coronas, as a general theme for this fic; The City by Ed Sheeran, and Act My Age by Hoodie Allen. Also the first few tracks on the Spider-Man: Homecoming OST, like the Original theme and Academic Decommitment.

I'm really looking forward to writing the rest of this- I don't know how long it'll take or how often I'll be updating it, but bare with and stay tuned!

If you asked Michelle Jones what she thought of Peter Parker, she would have three opinions to give you.

A) that he was an insufferable Loser who seemed to be permanently ditching everything in sight; b) that he was so inherently ridiculous that it was actually painful to sit and watch him; c) she was crushing on him so hard it was giving her a headache.

Michelle wasn't sure how to decide to describe it – it had happened, and then it had never left.

Just like that.

Suddenly, Michelle had found herself sneaking glances at him as she read her book at the lunch table, 5 seats away, as he idly talked with Ned, a firm practitioner of hand-waving when he got particularly excited about the topic of interest.

She'd pushed it off as observant habit. That everybody she met and talked to were observed just as much as he was.

It was all lies. All of it.

She couldn't even remember when it happened, or how. Or why, even. Because Michelle did not fall into crushes quite so easily as other people did.

'Other people' generally denoted people she'd rather avoid when it could be helped, but obviously, her hormones had decided that Peter Parker did not fall into that vicinity, so instead had went absolutely nuts about the poor guy. It was a craziness that Michelle had taken great pains to disguise.

It had started off small, to say the least. A casual glance over a book one day, as him and Ned continued to rave about the new Star Wars film that had come out. They'd always been animated talkers, constantly flapping their arms about as character development got more of a look-in than it probably needed, and even though she'd seen it millions of times before, something had changed.

Her eyes had scanned over the usual elements – half-eaten lunches, bags slung on the floor, hands slumped in chins as they listened to the other intently as their limbs flailed about. She'd actually looked at him – his gelled hair, swept back neatly from his face. His wide smile, all teeth showing radiantly – one of those kids whose braces had done him more than a few favours. His checked shirt collar peeking up through a mid-blue jumper. The geekiness of it was undeniable – it was overtly so.

But in that moment – unfortunately exemplified by him casually running his hand through his hair, a seeming necessity for all teenage boys to do every five seconds – had suddenly looked horrifyingly attractive, and Michelle's brain had nosedived, head stuck back into her book, thoughts whirring.

Where the heck did that come from?!

From then on, things had not improved.

Everything he did had suddenly seemed attractive, from his gait – hands in pockets, unassuming and friendly – from his haircut, which hadn't changed in ages, so why did she suddenly like it so much?

Michelle had tried denying it to herself multiple times.

You're a loner. By choice. You don't need a crush. You don't need a guy.

Her hormones had yet to comply with that statement.

She'd even tried hating the guy. Telling herself he was dorky and childish and ridiculous. That he was actually two inches smaller than her. That he was way too much like a loser to even be attractive.

But no – even that hadn't worked.

She'd had to admit it to herself then.

She was officially crushing on Peter Parker, but that did not mean that it had to go anywhere.

Actually, Michelle would have gone so far as to say it wouldn't go anywhere, because she was determined it wouldn't. Full stop.

So far, that was working out OK. Ish.

As Homecoming had come and went, there had been a definite change in his behaviour. She'd noticed it almost immediately. Dropping from marching band and the robotics club. Then quitting Decathlon. It had all seemed a bit too strange for it to just be a coincidence. No one lost interest that quickly.

She'd had to claim those remarks as a casual observation as well.

She was not obsessed with him.

That was still not working, mind. No matter what she told herself, but nevertheless, life had to move on, so Michelle decided that her crush on Peter Parker would not affect her daily life.

She would remain indifferent.

She would be cool about it. The artsy sophomore who didn't give two hells about anyone or anything.

As the school day came to a close (again, Michelle pointedly avoiding Parker as much as she could avoid), slipping out alone wasn't hard. It had become more of a staple for Parker or Leeds to accompany her, one usually missing. That one was usually Parker, because of course, he had to already act weirder than he already did.

The April sunshine was beautiful as it was, streaming down from clear skies, the trees still in bright, green bloom, as she took the 7 train home, crowded in amongst the dozens of others, trying to read her latest book one-handed, as she held onto the pole in front of her, each stop making her nearly break her hand trying to keep the book steady. She didn't usually enjoy this route home, especially with so many people crowded in around her, but it wasn't so bad. Books always proved a very useful distraction from the things she'd rather not dwell on.

Like, for instance, the stupidly cute face of her classmate.

Biting her lip, furiously, Michelle stared at the page in an effort to top thinking about it.

Finding her stop, she departed the suffocating crowds on the train, only to dive into more of them as she headed towards the local library, the main city now in full sprawl before her. The skyscrapers of New York never ceased to amaze her, even though Queens wasn't exactly small either. Although she'd lived here all her life, she supposed that it never ceased to amaze because it never seemed real in the first place.

The cars and the people; the exhaust fumes and the restaurants and the trees on the street; the colours and the sounds and the back alleyways you came to know. It was everything she wanted it to be.

And lately, with that Spider-Man now swinging about the place, it had just become a whole lot more interesting.

But she loved the city anyway – even if it wasn't her actual home, she loved going to the heart of it. She loved being where the life was, even if she was generally introverted about it.

Walking down the pavement, glancing down at her book once to keep her page mentally marked, she only just looked up before someone swept past her, tugging her bag right off of her shoulder, dashing ahead to avoid giving her a look at their face.

"Hey! Miscreant! Give me my bag back!"

They had, however, long since gone, but that did not stop Michelle chasing after them.

She'd never been a sporty person really – always the book nerd who knew way more about the development of the English language than most. But that hadn't meant she couldn't run, or sprint, or jump, or throw a punch if she wanted to.

She had a temper, and was seriously stubborn, and sometimes, that was more than enough.

She made various attempts to vault the chairs that were scattered outside the cafes lined along the streets (who wanted to sip coffee by smoking traffic anyways?) but it mostly failed, tripping into them, so she abandoned that idea, instead just pushing through the throngs of people with considerable force, gaining more than a few curious looks as she kept the thief in her sights.

She looked strange of course – charging down the streets, her other book in hand, face set.

But to hell with it - damn him if he was stealing the money and three new novels stuffed into that satchel.

Books were not cheap, and Michelle was not rich, hence – Olympian Sprint through the streets of New York City.

She'd already passed the library she was hoping to stop at, but that didn't matter.

She'd already lost him. In amongst the hiving crowds, he'd dipped into some alleyway and she'd lost sight of the bugger, and all she had to speak for her great attempt at following him was a thrumming ribcage as she heaved, realizing that her lungs felt ready to explode.

Turns out running and shoving people did a serious number on your breathing rate.

Hands on hips, she took a breath, lifting her head to look up at the sky.

Well. This wasn't good.

Turning her head to the side, she wondered if she could maybe take some backalleys herself and catch up to him.

But that thought was quickly dismissed when a flash of red and blue caught her eye, dipping in behind a dumpster.

She knew those colours. By God, she'd seen them up close.

Charging down the alleyway (Michelle wasn't good at subtle – didn't ring so well with her whole scope on women being allowed to be loud and proud if they wanted to be), she had just about reached the dumpster when Spider-Man jumped out, looking about ready to vault up onto the nearest building, no doubt off to go swinging about Queens and the greater city in search of busting petty crime.

Instead, he fell on his butt.

He obviously looked shocked behind the mask – the eyes had widened considerably, staring up at her in mild concern.

"Heroic," Michelle said, by way of introduction.

Sarcasm made up for subtle not being her thing.

He jumped to his feet again, standing rather awkwardly as he waved his hands about.

"Whoa, whoa! Miche- I mean, uh, what are you doing here, miss?"

Michelle blinked, still holding the book she'd been carrying the entire time. It was hardly the best time to be holding The Catcher in the Rye – but hey, she could flip it in people's faces to try and invoke interest in good literature as she ran.

"Why are you lurking about in an alleyway?"

Spider-Man looked at her, clearly annoyed at the suggestion.

"I'm not lurking,"

"Mmmhmm," Michelle said, also showing she clearly didn't believe him. He continued to stand there, shifting his foot, before waving at her once.

"Well, I got to, uh – you know, save people, so I'm going,"

He made to shoot the first web of his ascent, but Michelle, an idea catching fire in her head, made to step in front of him.

"Hey, wait, where you going?"

He turned to look round at her, hand still poised to shoot.

"Up?" He tried, humorous tones denoting an attempt to try and defuse her curiosity.

It did the opposite.

"Uh, yeah sure; whatever. I need your help anyways,"

He pointed at his chest, voice pitching higher than usual.

"Me?"

Michelle squinted at him, furrowing her brow, more and more confused. That voice sounded so familiar somehow. The intonation, the pitch, the way he asked questions – the way he tried to crack jokes. There was something about it…

Michelle scratched it. She had a bag to find.

"Yeah - you. My bag got stolen, so – kinda want it back,"

He squinted at her, pausing for a moment. It still weirded her out a little – how unreal he looked. Not 'unreal' as in cool; 'unreal' as in couldn't-be-possible. He seemed too otherworldly – like he didn't fit into the background somehow. Like when you could tell a presenter was standing in front of a green screen. The suit was obviously a distraction– red and blue, webbed throughout, with the big eyes and the lack of mouth. It made him less of a person, more of a symbol – maybe that's why she was finding it harder to place a name to the voice she'd heard, like when you heard an actor's voice and the name seemed to escape you.

She didn't much like it when answers evaded her – she enjoyed the finding out too much.

Anyways. Bag.

"Oh. Right. Uh yeah – sure! I can find that," He made to move off to shoot the web again, but Michelle pulled him back.

"Hey, whoa – you don't even know what it looks like."

"Sure I do,"

"How exactly is that?" She couldn't keep the dry tone from her voice.

"Uh, well -" He seemed to realize too late that what he'd just said was impossible. How could he know what her bag looked like?

Damn, where had she heard that voice before?

"I just assumed it was a purse –thing,"

Oh nice recovery, dude, Michelle thought to herself, raising an eyebrow sceptically.

"Do I look like the kind of person who would carry a purse?"

"Uh – perhaps not,"

"Yeah, 'perhaps not'. C'mon – go fetch,"

"I'm not a dog!"

"Whatever. I'd like to get to the library before dinner, so like – can you just speed up the process real quick?"

"Yeah, yeah, fine, alright. You uh – go scout around for it,"

Michelle raised her other eyebrow in protest.

"I just ran nearly 4 blocks – that's enough exercise today,"

He narrowed his eyes at her. Man, that eye mechanism was weird.

"Seriously, dude?" He shot the web to the nearest wall, zipping up in an instant, clambering to the top with an agility she'd seen pushed to its limits way back at the Washington Monument.

"Where abouts did they head?"

She paused. She'd lost them through the crowds just up ahead from this alleyway, once you went back to the main street. Doubtful that they'd still be hanging around there.

"Try the next few blocks. You might need to swing back around though so – see ya,"

"See you where?" he asked as she headed back onto the main street, book hanging loosely in her hand. She turned to look up at the building behind, wrapping one arm across her front, the other dangling the book in mid-air.

"When you swing around," She left the alleyway, leaving Spidey to stare at her retreating back, as she turned right and disappeared behind the wall.

Sure is a strange one, he thought, as he vaulted to the next building, now in search of Michelle's bag.

Michelle continued to wander about in the same area, mind gnawing away at the idea that her books could be gone forever. She'd feigned cool indifference with Spider-Man the same way she did with everybody – a severe lack of interest portrayed by little facial movement – but there was always a story underneath.

Her books held an unknown yet sacred value to her – the first thing she'd think to rescue in the event of a fire. Even at fire drills in school, she'd always take her book with her, even if it wasn't an actual fire. That's how much they meant to her.

She continued to stroll, observing as she saw her current investigator zip about the place on his web, in search of the missing article. Even if she feigned disinterest in him as well (as she did many other things), she couldn't help but be amazed by his abilities. His strength, his agility, his speed. She couldn't imagine what kind of person would have such awesome powers (awesome in the sense of huge, not cool – she wasn't a fan of that overuse of the word) so haphazardly chucked at them. Had he been born with them? Was it an accident? Had he been experimenting or something? Was it all a happy mistake?

Who knew what the consequences of it were. He was as much of a mystery as she was.

She watched as he came swinging down to meet her, landing precariously atop a lamppost, hands in front of him like a dog. Huh.

"Well?" She made it sound as intimidating as she could manage.

"I didn't manage to find it," he made it sound like a child apologizing to their mother for being out too late.

"Look again,"

"Miss, it's not that easy! I gotta a whole -" he abruptly cut short as shouts were heard from their left, both their heads swinging round to catch sight of a 20-something man darting out from a shop, clearly stealing something.

Spider-Man jerked with his thumb to the incident.

"Look, I gotta go – there's other stuff –"

"Hey, whoa – you're not just leaving me here," Michelle pointed to the ground, face stern.

"I lost my bag, Spider-Butt –"

"Spider-Butt? That's what you're calling me?!"

She shook her head vigourously.

"You told me you'd find it,"

However, he'd already poised his hand again to shoot into the action.

"Look, I'll come back, OK? I – I promise, just – stay here, alright? I'll be back in a sec!"

He swung off, leaving her once again stranded in the street, growing more agitated by the minute.

So much for a superhero.

As Spider-Man swung into action, Peter had several thoughts on his mind as he swerved around the city, leaping and vaulting from building to building as he caught up with the shop-lifter. He hadn't thought that Michelle might come to him for help – certainly not so plaintively. In fact, he'd been sure she only tolerated him because she had to.

But then again – he had to keep telling himself this – most people didn't put two and two together, and figure out that he and Spider-Man were one in the same.

They probably thought he was just a lame dork anyways, not a crime – fighting superhero.

Well. Crime – fighting superhero in spandex.

Besides the point, he thought, as he landed in front of the thief, who skidded to a halt, clearly freaked by how quickly he'd caught up.

"Hey, can you answer a quick question for me?" He shot a web straight into his face, making him drop the phone he'd swiped in the store. He stumbled to the ground, just as Peter flicked the phone up into his hand by way of another web.

"Why'd you steal things you can't use? I mean – it's not like this'll work without a SIM card and stuff –"

The man tried to yell something at him, but he just ignored it.

"Look, I gotta get back to someone else, so just stay there, OK? Thanks, buddy!" He webbed the phone to the pavement, giving a quick wave to the bystanders – "Someone call the cops? Thanks!" – before swinging off again, now headed back to MJ.

He'd gotten fond of her nickname – sort of like an initiation into the mystery that was Michelle Jones. She'd been a loner, and a bookworm, and all kinds of strange – but she'd been like him. He'd known that. Even if she was hard to understand, or straight up blunt, she took a pride in who she was and couldn't give two shits about what people thought about her.

As he swung round to meet her, he could see the bland, unimpressed look on her face, but all it did was make him smile.

He felt like he was finally getting to know her.

Landing right down in front of her, Michelle got the acute sense that he'd been extra quick about that particular bust, namely because he was probably super wary of getting on her bad side. Few had yet the pleasure to turn that stone.

"I'm back!"

"Obviously."

"Soooo – your bag, right?" he pointed finger guns at her. She blinked once, raising an eyebrow, squinting. The classic combo.

"Yeah. Our first assignment, before you went off to bust other people for their crappy crimes,"

"I'll need a description,"

"Just take me with you, dumbass,"

He seemed a little offended by that – it was hard to tell. The eyes could only say so much.

"What – like, to the rooftops? I dunno -"

"Look, I need my bag - you need to keep doing what you're doing – I dunno what that is exactly; so, just take me with you, we'll get this sorted, I say bye,"

"You're very blunt for a girl, you know,"

"If you want to dig your grave, be my guest,"

He backed up instantly.

"I didn't mean -"

"Whatever, Spider-Butt, just find my bag,"

As he took her by the waist – highly uncomfortable, Michelle thought, but surprisingly secure – he griped, "I so wish you wouldn't call me that,"

As they swung, jumping from building to building, Michelle felt an exhilaration she'd never really felt before. Something like raging intrigue and pure adrenaline banged together in a bowl and whisked violently. It was everything at once, and it was pretty amazing too (she was inclined to use this overused word on this occasion).

They finally caught the guy – rifling through her bag, dumping the books on the pavement, as they dropped to the ground. They were in another backstreet (some fetish, Michelle mused – gross), as grimy and uncared for as the last. It smelled like garbage, it looked like garbage, and the man who'd stolen her bag didn't half fit in either.

Jumping down in front of him, Spider-Man stepped in front of her.

"Hey, is that yours? I didn't know you were into – uh -" Spider-Man tilted his head, reading the topmost title of the pile of dumped books.

"Bleak House?" He turned to Michelle, who was standing with her arms folded, peering curiously past him to see how much of her bag had been rifled through. She was not down with people rummaging through her stuff, books and all.

"You seriously read this stuff?" Spidey's comment was interrupted as the guy threw a punch, Spider-Man dodging his fist with a reflex agility. The guy stared in alarm.

"I knew it! You didn't look the bookish type – man, what a waste of time, dude,"

He'd him webbed to the wall in seconds.

Bending down to retrieve her bag and books, Spider-Man approached her again, tentatively handing them to her.

"One bag safely returned. If there's anything missing – I can pay for that. Uh – so, we good? Cause I got other people to be helping – you know, reppin' Queens and all,"

Michelle just stared at him, slowly taking her books back as she squinted at him. He was a lot more awkward than she remembered in Washington.

"Yeah, thanks."

There was a second of silence.

"Yeah, can you just go already?"

He snapped back into life, waving his hands noncommittally.

"Oh, yeah sure! No worries! And uh – have a nice day!" He webbed up to the nearest wall, just as Michelle called out,

"Yeah, you too, Spider-Butt,"

He was gone within an instant.

The next day at school, Michelle spent the majority of the day trying to once again avoid Parker, on the off chance that she might get more infatuated.

She was still determined that no such thing was happening – ever. But you know – hormones were nothing if not predictable.

One glance of that goofy smile or curly hair and she'd be right back where she'd started.

Lunch was worse – she still sat near both him and Ned, and they kept glancing at her, perhaps curious if she'd make the move to come and sit with them, not five seats away. However, if she was to perfect the whole 'I-still-think-you're-losers' image up, sitting with them would be a sure-fire way to sabotage that plan.

Michelle Jones was very, very stubborn about a lot of things.

As English rolled into the last slot of the day, Michelle seated right at the very back, her stack of books able to block out the figure of the teacher if she slumped low enough, could spot Parker two seats in front of her, Ned on his right. It was giving her an excellent vantage point of his shoulder blades, the muscles of his back contracting as he brought his shoulders together, staring up at the ceiling aimlessly. Perhaps she hadn't planned on staring at his back but hey – if there was a sight worth seeing, she wasn't going criticize.

She seized up as she realized what she'd actually just thought.

Cringing inwardly, she dipped her head, just as she saw Parker lean back in his chair, turning around in her direction. She got hit with another wave of warmth, as she caught sight of his curly hair (more tamed than usual), his checked shirt and yet another cotton jumper, today in dark navy, tight around his arms.

Hmmmm.

She really needed to stop thinking about this.

"MJ," he hissed, as the teacher's back was turned. Michelle scowled at him, clearly trying her best to look irritated with him. She could see it was working, as he raised an eyebrow, mouthing 'what?' back at her. She shrugged, scribbling her pen in illogical swirls in the corner of the margin. It meant not having to stare at his face, which was probably good. She didn't need him figuring out she thought he was attractive.

"Hey – I heard you got your bag stolen. You OK?"

Her head snapped up, narrowing her eyes considerably as she leant forward.

"You stalking me, Parker?"

His face froze, before the panic slipped in. It made him look like a rabbit caught in the headlights, brown eyes wide.

She kind of liked how he was intimidated by her. It meant she could keep her distance.

"What? No!" he hissed back, closing his eyes briefly in astonishment that she perhaps even thought that.

"Why would I do that?" He paused, looking more panicked by the minute. Michelle struggled not to smirk at his discomfort.

"I mean – why would anyone? It's creepy, man,"

"Not a far cry from you, Parker,"

He pursed his lips at that remark, breathing in once, taking a glance back at the front to make sure Mr Richards still wasn't looking.

"I was just trying to be nice! Seriously – are you OK?"

Michelle opened her mouth to answer, but Mr Richards took that opportunity to turn around, ready to address the class again, only to see Peter turned around in his chair.

He sighed once. "Peter Parker! Are you even listening back there?"

Peter scrambled round in his chair, looking about as guilty and innocent as one could simultaneously – i.e. not very well.

His face said innocent; his body language said guilty.

Michelle thought they both said cute.

She rolled her eyes to herself, snapping out of yet another daze.

This really, really had to stop.

"Uh – yep! Sorry sir," He smiled apologetically, making one last attempt to turn around to Michelle.

He mouthed,

You OK? another time, so Michelle did the best thing she could think of.

Flipping him a salutary middle finger, smirking, she stuck her head into Bleak House, trying to forcibly forget how sincere he'd looked.

She took one last glance.

He'd turned around again, but his shoulders were more slumped than usual.

Michelle frowned.

Why'd he care so much anyway?

Reviews and kudos are always appreciated! You lovely people never cease to amaze me.