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After having your soulmate trapped behind the wall of a memory spell for four years, you learn to not take the little things for granted. Michelle Jones-Watson made a promise to herself to treasure any little moment she could get with Peter Parker, no matter how “insignificant”. No matter if he was even awake or not.
At this moment, he was not. After Spider-Man spent the better part of a day shutting down an underground bioweapon manufacturer, he fell fast asleep as soon as he flopped on their now shared bed, forgoing their nightly pillow talk and kisses in favour of boarding the first train to dreamland. Not that MJ minded, in fact she was pleased he was actually managing to get some sleep after insomnia and nightmares kept him up for several nights in a row.
So, she snuggled up in their bed donning a raggedy Spider-Man shirt from the Goodwill down the street, she stared at her boyfriend, mapping every little detail of his face in case she ever had to work to remember again. The drool unceremoniously leaking from his soft pink lips as he snored, the way his lashes rested so peacefully against his subtly freckled cheeks, his mess of curls that desperately needed a shampoo spread against his pillow. She reached a hand out and softly mapped up his jawline with her pointer finger, treating him as if he were porcelain as to not wake her personal Sleeping Beauty. She noticed he was slightly warmer than usual, and more clammy, but she shut down any worries quickly. She figured he had essentially just done the equivalent of a six hour workout, no need to fret or spiral. She stopped when she reached his curls, resting a hand in them as her own eyes started to droop.
“Good night, Peter.” She said beneath a yawn, knowing he couldn’t hear her but still not wanting to go without saying it when their relationship had proven to be as fragile as glass in the hands of the toddler that is the universe. As she let her hand drop, she closed her eyes with a delicate smile dancing on her face. “I love you.”
—--------------
Why was it suddenly so freezing?
MJ felt her body curl up into itself involuntarily, using her own body heat for warmth after the sudden lack-thereof woke her up. She reached out to pull the blanket back over her, only to find nothing where it once covered her. “The hell…”
She used her arm to prop herself up as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, looking around the room to catch a lump next to her in bed.
A lump named Peter who was hogging the blankets.
She let out a sigh, allowing herself to be annoyed as she reached to her side to grab her share of the duvet. “Pete, you hog-”
All annoyance quickly drained from her as she heard a soft whimper from underneath the blankets, quickly replaced with heavy concern. “Peter?” She reached over slowly when he let out another whimper, this one bordering on a groan. She slowly pulled the blanket down, ever so slightly to check on him. And her stomach flipped.
Even with only the moon and city lights illuminating their bedroom, she could tell how deathly pale he looked and could map out circles under his eyes.
“Shit.” MJ muttered to herself as she rushed out of bed, turning on her lamp as she rounded the bed to his side to get a better look at him.
She kneeled in front of him and pulled the blankets even more off him, not even realizing she was gently shushing him as he continued to whimper. With the better lighting she could very clearly see how unwell Peter was. He was about 10 shades lighter than he usually was, with a bluish green tint to his skin. A thick layer of sweat covered his body, despite him starting to shiver at the loss of the blanket, making his curls stick to his forehead. She brought her hand to his face, “Fuck!” and had to quickly draw back at the sheer heat that was radiating off him. In his sleep, Peter went to grab the duvet to cover himself up again, and she caught his wrist.
His wrist.
That’s when she saw his wrist.
Now that he had organic webs, he also had a little hole in his wrists. An opening that was prime for infection. And boy, was it ever infected. She couldn’t suppress a gag at the sight of it; ooze leaking that was decidedly not web fluid, red inflammation around the hole that was somehow even hotter to the touch than the rest of his fever ridden body, small bumps surrounding it with a greenish tint in colour… to put it bluntly, it looked disgusting.
But more importantly, it looked deeply worrying and concerning.
So, despite her stomach begging her not to, MJ checked his other wrist, and sure enough there was a matching infection festering in his left arm, too.
If his symptoms and presentation were anything to go by, Peter needed medical attention. Now.
The only issue was, she couldn’t simply call an ambulance. With a problem like this, his identity would be uncovered in mere seconds, and they did not need that mess again. Not when they resumed their version of normalcy not even a year ago.
She remembered Yelena saying something about rehiring Helen Cho to be a live-in doctor at the New Avengers tower, letting her and Peter know that they can come to the Medbay whenever necessary since only Cho was trained to handle enhanced medical issues.
So, at 3am, that's where she and Peter had to go.
“Peter.” She gave him a gentle nudge, and only got a weak groan in response. “Peter!” She tried a little louder, a little less gentle, still nothing. All her attempts to rouse him were proving fruitless, and actually only seeming to distress him as his whimpers increased.
To put it bluntly, he wasn’t waking up.
“Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” She stood up quickly enough that she herself was lightheaded, hands grabbing at her scalp as she paced their tiny bedroom, refusing to take her eyes off Peter who was now openly trembling in his sleep. She didn’t know what to do, only that leaving him like this was not an option.
MJ took a deep breath to compose herself, looking at her sleeping boyfriend shake and shiver in their bed, sweating all over their freshly washed sheets. “Okay. Okay I guess we’re doing this.”
There was no way she was strong enough for this plan, but she would be damned if she didn’t at least try. She braced herself as she approached him, gently placing her arms under his back and knees, careful not to jostle Peter too much as her own groans fell out of her lips as she lifted him into a bridal carry. Once he was in her arms, head lolling gracelessly onto her shoulder, she took a few pants.
Fuck he was heavy.
Getting him to her car would be difficult, but not impossible.
MJ spared a look to the man in her arms, his face furrowed into a grimace as more whimpers escaped him. Tears were starting to fall from his squeezed-shut eyes now. It was heartbreaking.
She shushed him again, as if she were soothing a sick animal. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay I’m here.” She spoke more softly than she thought she had the capacity to, with a gentleness exclusively reserved for Peter Parker. She leaned down and kissed his sweaty forehead, feeling the nauseating heat against her lips and face. It wasn’t comfortable for her, but she knew how badly he needed that comfort.
MJ began to walk, suddenly a little grateful that Peter’s PTSD doesn’t allow for him to sleep with the door closed as she walked him through the frame. It wasn’t a graceful stride by any means, not with a dead weight in her arms, but they were moving. That’s the main thing. And even if she wasn’t necessarily graceful, she was careful. Every accidental jostle made Peter cry out in his sleep, pulling at her heart strings and causing her own set of tears to well in her eyes. But she pushed on, knowing it was a necessary evil, simultaneously taking her time yet rushing out of the apartment.
It was going relatively smoothly, until the elevator.
The extra movement of the button pressing and the motion of the elevator itself irritated Peter’s already nauseous stomach, and about five seconds after they started moving… he threw up. Everywhere. All over the elevator… and all over MJ.
“Oh shit! Fuck!’ MJ quietly exclaimed under her breath, moving to get Peter in a better position in her arms. At this point she honestly couldn’t care less about the vomit that covered her body, and just felt concern for her boyfriend. She continued to whisper reassurances to him as he let it all out. “It’s okay, it’s okay baby. Don’t- don’t choke.”
It took about five gags and an entire elevator ride for the contents of Peter’s stomach to be expelled, and as the pair left the elevator she was well aware of how pathetic they looked. Peter looked like death, shaking like a freshly fallen autumn leaf in her hold as she tried to bury himself into her. And MJ didn’t look much better, covered in vomit that didn’t belong to her and bone deep exhaustion visible in her demeanor. But she kept her head up, ignoring the concerned gaze the night shift front desk worker shot the duo as she informed her of the clean up that was needed. Her mind was one track at the best of times, and now all of her neurons were screaming at her to get Peter medical attention.
MJ walked out into the parking garage, still careful of her precious cargo sleeping restlessly in her hold despite him becoming heavier by the second. The breeze felt like heaven to her, a much needed relief from the absolute heat radiating off of Peter. But her relief didn’t last long as she felt a new wave of goosebumps cover his body, the cool air making him feel even colder despite his rapidly increasing body temperature, groans falling from his mouth as he shook harder and more tears escaping his eyes. “It’s okay, Peter. I’m taking you to Cho.”
MJ cursed their relative poverty as she walked to their assigned parking spot furthest from the door, and did her best to get him into the backseat with one hand. She impressed even herself with how gently she managed to lay him across the backseat, given the circumstances. She spared him one last sad look, looking over his wrists in particular to make sure no vomit got around the area, and was pleased to see only her clothes and hair were so lucky. She watched with a clenched heart as Peter curled in on himself, teeth chattering and whimpers increasing as she leaned over to buckle him in. “It’s okay, sweetheart.” She kissed his forehead despite the objective grossness of their states. “I’m getting you help.”
Leaving his side even just to go to the front seat felt like torture, but with a sigh she closed the backdoor and climbed in the front seat of their little beater of a Honda Civic. She buckled herself in, not caring about the mess, and spared one last look to her suffering partner in the backseat. She gave him a reassuring smile, more for herself than anything, and set off towards the tower.
He is going to be okay. She told herself. He has to be.
After everything they had already been through, she would accept no less.
—--------------
Peter felt hazy, lost in a semi-conscious dreamlike state that is only achievable through substance use or a high fever, and considering Tony hasn’t ascended from the heavens to give him the lecture of his life, he had to assume it was the latter.
He had no idea what was going on, just that he felt like ass.
He was freezing and shivering, yet covered in more sweat than he felt was humanly possible. He felt his heart rabbiting in at all his pulse points, easily going 200bpm. His stomach felt like it was doing backflips, but he felt too far away from his body to even register it. But the big thing was the pain pain pain from his wrists. They felt like they were on fire, and any small touch sent fire throughout his body limbs.
Distantly, he knew it had something to do with the learning curve of caring for a whole new fucking orifice in his arms and not really doing what he needed to to care for them, but everything felt too out of focus for him to deal with that.
The only thing that felt in focus, was his pain, and the feeling of a comforting presence. He distantly heard loving reassurances, promises of help. Felt a warm body holding his, smelling of jasmine and vanilla body butter, a smell that brought him much comfort.
He wasn’t there enough to register who it is that was holding him, but he knew he felt safe in their arms.
He trusted that nothing bad would happen to him, not while they were around.
He felt protected with this person, he felt loved.
So, he allowed them to manoeuvre him. Even when he realized he was making some kind of mess, he didn’t feel scared or judged. Only cared for, only loved.
So, he put his full trust in them as he floated in this dreamscape.
He knew they would help.
—--------------
It was a blur when MJ arrived at the tower, all she remembers is a grouchy Yelena who sprung into action as soon as she saw the boy in her arms, calling Cho and everything becoming a flurry.
“It’s okay.” She remembers a calm Cho telling her. She recalls protectively strengthening her hold on Peter once the doctor tried to take him, a knee jerk response with the fire she felt burning inside of her about him. “I’ve got him now.”
She remembers Bob guiding her to the bathroom for a much needed shower. She remembers coming out to the pristine waiting room and seeing a very worried Ned Leeds and Happy Hogan there. She doesn’t remember making any phone calls, so she figured someone else did that for her.
She remembers anxiously waiting for news with the only two living people who understood her love for Peter Parker. She remembers the relief when Helen came in and said that Peter would be okay, he would just need to be kept for a few days on IV antibiotics to flush his system. She remembers seemingly gliding into his room, the one Tony Stark assigned to an accident prone teenager years ago, and seeing Peter Parker. At first her heart clenched, seeing him look younger than his 25 years against the milk white blankets, tubes covering his body. But then relief flooded her when she realized how much better a mere few hours made him look, colour already returning to his face.
MJ plopped in the chair next to him, still exhausted from the ordeal but now feeling like she can rest, like she can breathe knowing he will be okay. She reached over and carded her fingers through his hair again with a sigh, making a decision she might hear from Cho about in the near future and climbing into Peter’s hospital bed with him. She rested her head on his rest, feeling his now stable heartbeat against her cheek. She felt his warmth, still much too warm but coming down slowly. She noticed his bandaged wrists, relieved they were covered and nothing could get in anymore. She sighed again, snuggling into him, and her heart soared. You see, Peter Parker developed much more spider-traits after his mutation, one of them being something he would never admit to. Now that he was safe and felt the presence of someone he loved, Peter Parker was purring. Like a cat, deep and gentle. Full of love.
MJ smiled to herself, cuddling further and already planning out a conversation about web hole hygiene and playfully eye rolling at this being her life. But right now, she needs some sleep.
“Good night, Peter.” She said with a yawn. “I love you.”
She was met with another purr.