Work Text:
“I think you should set up a Grindr.”
Peter choked on his vodka sprite.
“I’m sorry?” He asked incredulously once he had stopped hacking like a dying cat.
MJ raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.
“A Grindr.” She said slowly, enunciating like he was a toddler. “The gayer Tinder.”
Ned snorted, but shoved more onion rings in his mouth when Peter glared at him.
“No, I got that part. I’m just slightly confused why you’re suggesting I get on a fucking dating app.”
MJ shrugged, and reached over to steal one of his fries, ignoring his offended yelp.
“You haven’t gotten laid in months, Parker,” she pointed her (stolen) fry at him, and his jaw dropped, even more offended. “I’m trying to help you out here.”
Ned’s eyes were wide now, and he was glancing back and forth between them like they were a very exciting, slightly more bitchy tennis match.
“Helping me out is not putting me on Grindr, MJ!”
“Sure it is. Have you seen yourself? You’d get offers within minutes.”
He gaped at her, mouth opening and closing.
“That’s- I- what?”
She rolled her eyes at him exasperatedly.
“You’re, like, the most stereotypical bottom ever.” MJ motioned to his outfit. “You’re wearing a flannel with your tight jeans and fucking Converse, Peter. I don’t know how you haven’t found someone to hook up with already.”
Ned snickered into his drink. Peter kicked him under the table.
“Well, maybe I don’t want to hook up with someone.” He muttered grumpily. “You ever think of that? Huh?”
She gave him a deadpan look.
“No.”
He sighed, rubbing his eyes.
That was…fair, he guessed.
“Also, isn’t it a little weird to you that you’re the one trying to set me up right now?”
As soon as he said it, Peter immediately wanted to crawl into a hole and die a very, very quick death.
By the terrified look Ned was sending him, the feeling was mutual.
MJ wasn’t swayed.
“Why? Because we fucked once?”
He shrunk a little lower in his seat.
“Yes?” He said meekly.
She stared at him for a moment.
“That was months ago.”
Peter nodded awkwardly.
“Right.”
“It was a one time thing.”
“Yep.”
“And I have a girlfriend now.”
“Uhuh.”
She gave him another look.
“So this matters…how?”
He shook his head slowly, pursing his lips at his (regrettably) nearly-empty drink.
“No, you’re right, it doesn’t.” He squeaked, clearing his throat.
She nodded.
“Great. So glad we brought that up. Can we move on now?”
Ned made a pained sound.
“Oh, yeah, for sure.”
MJ rolled her eyes again.
“Anyway.” She said, abruptly changing subjects and reminding Peter of the stupid conversation they were having to begin with before he tried to divert it with something more stupid. “Grindr.”
“No.” He countered.
“Yes.”
“It’s not happening.”
“Peter, name one good reason-“
“Dating apps are stupid!”
“Have you ever tried one?”
“I- You-“ He sputtered, arms flailing wildly. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“So no, then.” MJ concluded, leaning back in her chair.
Ned made a face of agreement.
“That’s besides the point!”
“That is literally your whole point.”
Peter opened his mouth to argue, but she glared at him. Sighing, he slumped down in his chair.
“I don’t want to be on a dating app.” He grumbled.
MJ eyed him with an appraising look. Peter tried to subtly sink further to avoid eye contact.
“If you try Grindr, I’ll sit through the first Star Wars trilogy with you guys.” She said finally.
Both Peter and Ned’s mouths dropped open, openly shocked.
“That’s cheating.” He whispered, staring at her.
“Bro, you have to take that.” Ned hissed, aghast. “She’s never going to offer that again!”
MJ sat back in her seat, stirring her drink smugly.
“I-“ Peter said, unsure.
Ned leaned towards him, grabbing his arm.
“Peter,” he whispered urgently, “I’m going to need you to take this one for the team, okay?”
He stared at him.
“For the team.” Ned hissed.
He looked back at MJ.
She sipped her drink innocently.
Peter sighed.
“You’ll watch the whole trilogy?”
She nodded.
“No complaining?”
“Minimal complaining,” she corrected.
He exchanged a look with Ned, who nodded vigorously.
Peter groaned quietly, rubbing his temples.
“Get me another fucking drink,” he muttered under his breath.
MJ smirked victoriously.
~
“Okay, okay, okay,” Peter groused. “Now you guys are just being mean.”
Ned was laughing so hard he was nearly out of his chair, and part of Peter spitefully hoped he fell.
MJ was laughing, too, but Peter was a little bit more scared of her, so he hoped she did not fall out of her seat.
“5’8?” Ned wheezed, holding his side.
Peter flicked his paper straw wrapper at his head.
“I am 5’8!”
Ned wheezed again.
“I’m sorry,” MJ drawled. “Have you suddenly grown two inches without us noticing?”
Peter flipped her off.
“I’m writing 5’8,” he said decisively.
Ned looked like he was on the verge of tears.
“Right, okay, what’s my chosen career?”
MJ swirled her drink thoughtfully.
“Mm. You’re a chemist.”
“That’s not bad-“
“Web Design.” Ned interrupted.
Peter deleted the beginnings of ‘Chemist’, and instead replaced it with ‘Web Designer’, nodding rapidly.
“Atta boy, Nedward.”
MJ sighed.
“Web design? Really?”
They both shot her identical looks of disbelief.
“MJ, it’s genius-“
“I’m mad at him and I think it’s funny-“
“How could he not put that-“
“Where is your creativity, I mean, c’mon-“
She rolled her eyes again, and motioned for another round.
~
“Where am I located?” Peter mumbled. “I dunno, where I am?”
MJ threw a fry at him.
“Queens, dumbass.”
“Right, right, right.” Peter nodded, dutifully typing it into the slot.
Ned, who was reading over his shoulder, suddenly gasped excitedly.
“No, put, like,” he floundered for a moment. “Texas, or something.”
Peter blinked at him.
“What? Why?”
Ned gestured dramatically, almost knocking two different drinks over.
“So you can get a guy with a Southern accent!” He exclaimed, the ‘duh’ heavily implied.
MJ didn’t look up from drawing on her napkin.
“Why would Peter want-“
Peter deleted the ‘Queens’.
~
“Texas is, like, full of guns, though.” Peter mused. “And I’m, like, Spider-Man.”
Ned nodded sagely.
“Not Texas,” he agreed.
MJ rubbed her eyes.
“You’re both idiots.” She muttered.
They ignored her, instead staring at each other.
“Georgia?” Ned suggested.
Peter wrinkled his nose.
“They’ve got peaches, and peaches feel weird.”
He shuddered.
“Alabama?”
They locked eyes, and immediately broke down into giggles.
“Alabama,” Peter choked.
“Sweet home Alabama,” Ned cackled.
MJ got up to get another drink.
~
“What else is southern?” Peter wondered.
Ned hummed as he tied his paper wrapping around Peter’s wrist like a friendship bracelet.
“Louisiana?”
He shook his head.
“No, they have alligators.” He made a face. “And I don’t want someone who’s around alligators.”
“That’s fair.”
~
Ned started laughing again, leaning against Peter’s side.
“What about- what about Tennessee?” He giggled.
MJ squinted at them.
“Why?” She asked slowly.
Ned’s giggles increased, and Peter patted his head gently.
“Because- because you’re the only ten I see!”
Peter snorts so loud the couple at the neighboring table looks over, concerned, as he gleefully types in ‘Tennessee’ to his location bar.
“You have to be more specific,” MJ said, staring hazily into her drink like it would reveal all of its secrets to her.
He and Ned give her twin looks of disbelief, and then give each other looks.
“Nah,” Peter decides.
“Don’t think so.” Ned agrees.
She muttered something under her breath about idiotic dumbasses.
Ned began singing the chorus of ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ again.
~
“Hey, Peter?” Ned whispered.
“Yeah?” He whispered back.
“I love you.”
Peter grinned dopily.
“Aw, buddy, I love you too.”
His best friend glanced up at him, eyebrows drawn together.
“Promise you won’t love your hot Southern boyfriend more than me?”
Peter smooshed Ned’s cheeks, and pulled him closer, so that their noses were gently pressed together.
“Never,” he whispered fervently.
Ned’s face relaxed, and he smiled, hugging Peter’s middle tightly. Peter hugged him back, leaning against him as he used him as a pillow.
Across the table, MJ groaned, rubbing her temples.
“I’m calling all of us a fucking Uber.”
~
Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.
Peter grunted, hand slapping aimlessly at his nightstand, fumbling when he finally managed to find his phone.
He swiped blindly, eyes still shut tightly, until the noise stopped.
“Fuck me,” he groaned, and then winced at the rough sound of his own voice.
And this, kids, is why we don’t let MJ talk us into doing stupid shit, he thought bitterly as the pounding that had began as a dull numbness in the back of his head turned into a rhythmic drumming behind his eyelids.
His phone buzzed again in his hand.
Peter slowly peeled one eye open, biting back a whimper at the throb the sudden light brought, and glanced at the notification.
He froze.
You have a new message! the screen informed him cheerfully, flashing the Grindr icon.
“Oh, no.” He whispered, horrified with his drunk self.
He tapped it reluctantly.
Peter grimaced. He had, indeed, received a new message.
In fact, he had received seven new messages, all from men throughout Tennessee.
Peter slapped a hand over his eyes, praying desperately to whoever might be listening to make it disappear.
He waited twenty seconds.
He looked back.
There were still seven unread messages.
He was going to kill MJ.
Peter sighed, and began systematically going through and deleting the threads, only replying to some of them.
He made it through the first six, but when he got to the last one, he paused, thumb poised above the ‘delete’ button.
He bit the inside of his cheek, internally debating, before rolling his eyes (and then mentally slapping himself, because shit, that hurt).
“YOLO,” he muttered, and clicked on the guy’s profile.
Harley Keener, it read at the top, with a ‘Mechanic’ printed slightly below it.
Peter shrugged, and scrolled a little further.
Harley had added four pictures to his page, and after a moment’s hesitation, Peter tapped the first one.
A tall, lanky blonde man (presumably Harley) was standing in the middle of the frame, leaning against a motorcycle, with his hands carelessly shoved in his pockets, and bored look on his face. He had one eyebrow raised, like he was daring the cameraman to come any closer.
He was, unfortunately, very attractive, and not at all the deterrent Peter needed to delete this app.
He moved to the next picture.
Harley was slightly younger in this photo, with his arms crossed defiantly and a smirk dancing across his lips. Next to him was a slightly younger girl, who had the same blue eyes and slightly-wavy-slightly-curly blonde hair.
Peter clicked to the right, and-
“Huh.” He said intelligently.
Harley wasn’t looking at the camera in the picture, but he was shirtless, and Peter was very, very bisexual.
He cleared his throat, and opened the last one.
It was of a small house, with a tree-swing and rundown steps. Harley was sitting on the porch, clearly not aware of the picture being taken. His head was thrown back in laughter, posture loose and open.
Peter swallowed.
With a slightly-shaky finger, he went back to the chat.
At 3:47AM, Harley had typed, ‘i like the tshirts’, referencing Peter’s infamous chemistry pun t-shirts.
Peter bit his lip, and slowly typed back.
‘thanks. i like the motorcycle.’