Without Even Trying, a spider-man fanfic

Title: Without Even Trying
Author: Contagious Sunshine
Pairings: Harry/Mary Jane
Rating: PG-13
Summary: 'It's fulfilling and regretful all in the same moment.' Mary Jane and Harry have started something that they're not sure they can handle.
A/N: This actually began as an add-on to an EP I recently made for the same pairing, I just sort of expanded it a bit. You can find the EP on my icon journal: abcdefghicons livejournal. I wrote most of the parts while listening to certain songs just so I could get some emotion. Also, the fic takes place during SM3 and leads up to the end. Basically, it's a 'deleted scenes' sort of thing. SPOILER WARNING.
Disclaimer: I don't own it. Stan Lee does.

He invites her out for coffee one day, calling her early one Saturday morning. She accepts (even though she'd much rather go back to sleep) because she hasn't seen him insuch a long time and it was so nice to hear his voice again.

When she gets to the small cafe near his penthouse, he wraps her in his arms and she laughs at his forwardness. He doesn't bring up Peter at all in the conversation and she never mentions him (frankly, she doesn't see the need to). They discuss other things: her upcoming show, how lonely he gets, and how he was glad she agreed to his offer. He pays for her coffee and the slice of apple pie that she couldn't resist getting when she saw a picture of it in the window. She thanks him and he smiles, replying with a 'No problem' They part and he tells her that he'll call her so that they could do this again.

She would like that very much.

It's Thursday and he's in that state of mind when you're asleep but not really, when his phones rings.

He stumbles out of bed and answers with a groggy 'Hello?' because it's late and he's thinking who in their right mind would call him at 1 o' clock in the morning on a fucking Thursday. When she replies, he can't help but smile at the sound of her voice and he asks her what's up. She sounds worn and defeated and he can tell something's wrong.

"MJ? What's wrong?"

There's a pause. "It's raining."

"I can see that."

"I'm scared." Her voice is small and he starts to laugh because that's the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard her say and soon she starts to laugh with him. Her laugh is infectious and it crawls beneath his skin but he doesn't mind because he actually likes the feeling. He realizes how he's missed her laugh.

A few moments later, they manage to stop and he's lying down on his bed with a smile on his face, staring out the window at the rain.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

He smiles. "No problem."

It's their third outing (is that what one would call it? she's not so sure) and she still hasn't brought up Peter or her relationship with Peter and he hasn't bothered to ask. She doesn't want him to.

They're sitting in the park beneath a large tree and he bought her a powdered donut from some shop on the way here and she's currently eating it happily, offering him some which he politely declines. "Watching my figure," he states and she slaps him playfully on the arm. He grins and she notices how nice his smile is and she finds herself blushing.

"MJ? You got a little something..." he gestures towards her cheek and she hurries to wipe it off.

"Crap." He laughs.

"Here, let me do it for you."

He reaches for her face, gently brushing the powder from her cheek, letting his hand linger there for a second too long. She stares at him and his eyes meet hers and she finds that it's getting hard for her to breathe and she's not sure where this is going.

Just then, a duck in the lake lets out a loud call and they both realize what's happening and quickly pull away from one another. He lets out a nervous laugh and she says something about suddenly not feeling well and she runs off before he has a chance to reply.

She doesn't turn back.

He's not sure why he kisses her while they're sitting in his kitchen discussing his horrible attempt at a play. Maybe it was the omelet, or that they had been twisting earlier, or that she was the only one that seemed to understand him, or maybe it was even the fact that she was Peter's girlfriend. Honestly, he's not sure why he does it but he does.

It's fulfilling and regretful all in the same moment. He shouldn't be doing this but he wants to and she does to because she has her hand on his neck, drawing him closer, and he can't help but kiss her back. He's missed this, missed her kiss, missed her.

It's over as soon as it began and she's gone as fast as she came. He sits in the kitchen for a good twenty minutes after she leaves with his head in his hands, thinking 'What have I done?' Bernard comes in twice to check on him but he tells Bernard to leave him alone and the old man agrees. He just wants to sit here and think.

(She tasted like strawberries.)

She's not sure what she's gotten herself into.

She walks hurriedly from his apartment and her mind is running at triple the pace it usually is and her heart is pounding in her chest (she's not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing, she wants to say bad but she has a feeling that she would just be lying). She needs to think but she can't. She feels dizzy, she has to sit down, and so she stumbles into a small coffee shop and sits in the back and takes deep breaths.

She tries to make sense of what just happened in the confines of that kitchen but all she draws are blanks and she keeps thinking about Peter, dear sweet Peter. It was a mistake, a horrible, horrible mistake and she tells herself that if Peter finds out, he'll forgive her. He always has. But it wasn't like she kissed some random guy on the street. She kissed his best friend. And in the back of her mind, she knows that she wanted to all along. Oh dear lord, what has she done?

She kissed him.

She leaves the shop after an hour and fifteen minutes and manages to get to her apartment just as her answering machine goes off and Peter's voice fills the wide space. She smiles. She has to talk to him, she needs to talk to him. She has to apologize to Peter for blowing this whole fame thing out of the water.

She reaches for the phone just as a hand reaches for her throat.

He smirks as he watches the scene unfold on the bridge. This whole thing is a game for him, an amusing game, and she just happens to be a pawn that he's dragging around the board. He knows that what he's doing is wrong (breaking up two people who are very obviously in love with one another is a big feat to take on) but that voice in the back of his head that sounds strangely like his father tells him that it's alright, it's all part of the plan. 'Attack Peter's heart,' it had said, 'Attack MJ,' and that's what he was doing. He was tearing his best friend from the one girl that loved him.

And that, that made him smile.

She walks by him and he applauds. She turns, throwing death glares at him and for a second he feels the need to apologize, to tell her to go back to Peter and set things right. But it passes and he merely smiles.

"Bravo," he tells her.

He can see the look of disgust on her face when she turns to walk away in the opposite direction of him, a loose strand of red hair blowing in the breeze.

She knows it's him flying out there on the glider next to Spider-Man as she clings to the yellow taxi for dear life.

She also knows that one of them isn't going to survive this battle.

She knows that it's going to be him.

He lays there on the steel platform, his breath coming out in ragged coughs and his head is throbbing. He doesn't remember getting hit, doesn't remember falling, he just remembers the sound of her scream in his ears as she hurried to reach where he lie.

She kneels besides him and he looks up. Her hair falls loosely around her face like a red halo and he smiles at her, even though his chest is on fire and all he wants to do is close his eyes and sleep for a long time. She takes his head and puts him in her lap and he can see the tears in her eyes and the pain etched onto her face.

"How are you doing?" she asks.

"I've been better," he softly replies with a forced chuckle. "Mychest hurts."

Her eyes flicker to his chest and then back to his face. She can't hide the shock and he sighs. "It's that bad, huh?"

She merely nods and a tear falls from her chin and onto his cheek. They're silent. He can hear the sound of pipes clanging together overhead and the roar of the crowd down below but he remains focused on her. He has to.

"I'm sorry Harry," she whispers. "I'm sorry for everything."

He's confused. He's the one who should be apologizing, begging for her forgiveness for being a selfish jerk and taking advantage of her. Instead he grabs her hand and squeezes it for reassurance that she's really here and it's not just a side-affect of, you know, dying.

"MJ?"

Her eyes meet his. "Yeah?"

Peter's coming now; he heard him land a distance away.

"Thanks."

She smiles even though she'd much rather cry. She whispers, "No problem."

He smiles.

Fin.

Review, please.