Overwhelmed- Spider-Man

Mall Date

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"Morning Tiger!"

Peter groans as the blinds fly open, glaring sunlight bursting through the area. Glancing across the cluttered room, he blinks harshly, waiting for his eyes to adjust enough to see the puff of bright red hair sitting a few feet from his face.

Grinning, MJ vainly tries to pull her morning hair out of her face, only succeeding in further tangling the knotted chunks of hair. He chuckles.

"Good morning to you too." Rolling her eyes, she collapses on the bed. "I'm hungry."

Despite the jokes about 'The Great Dumpling Catastrophe' or being more helpful outside the kitchen than in it, it's been well established that Peter does the cooking, and the past week has served up a variety of canned soup and takeout in his absence.

Whether it's out of an actual desire for food or a ploy to get him out of bed, MJ decided it's his turn to play chef.

"You're in luck." He grins. "I know a place that serves the best gourmet cereal."

Stuffing her face into the pillow, MJ whines amiably, mumbling something suspiciously similar to 'You're the worst'. He opts to ignore it, instead rambling on about the different flavours of cereal that he has no intention of actually making.

He's been out of commission for a week, the least he can do is make some food for the one keeping him alive while he sulked.

Reaching for a nearby cabinet, he watches MJ flop down on a chair, a smug expression growing on her face as she realizes he's making food from scratch and not a box.

Sliding the omelets onto their respective plates, Peter pushes them across the counter towards the seats. Grasping the plate like it's going to run away, MJ pats the seat next to her.

"So," MJ says, "Central Park. What are we gonna do?"

"I didn't know we had to plan something," He says, frowning.

"We don't. I just wanted to know if there was something you wanted to get done while we were out." MJ explains, scowling as a chunk of egg flips off her fork.

Shrugging, he scoops the yellow chunks onto my fork. The omelet is runny, not having sat on the burner for long enough since he was rushing.

Old habits die hard, he guesses.

Clinking the silverware against the plate, he continue to shovel subpar eggs into my mouth, defiantly ignoring the stifling silence.

MJ sighs, setting her plate in the sink. "You should probably go get ready."

Nodding, Peter places his plate next to hers, heading towards the guest bedroom.

Picking up a wad of clothes on the floor spreading away from the mound of laundry kicked into the corner, he throws it over his head, slipping a flannel over a t-shirt with a math pun on it. May bought it for him.

As a sickly feeling settles in his stomach, he starts to wonder if he's really up to go out anymore.

He takes a deep breath, trying to clear away the feeling and trudges over to the bathroom.