Kiss My Heart, Heal My Soul

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Narrative: Michelle finally gets the task that those associated with the red and blue clad vigilante usually face: bandaging his wounds after a fight. But seeing the hurt boy at her side may just pull the strings of her heart.

Just a short oneshot of MJ helping Peter and these two dorks realizing their feelings for one another. (MJ knows but they're still just friends at this point)



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There were three things Michelle was made aware of when she became friends with Peter Parker: the first being he was Spider-Man; the second on the list was that there was no stopping him from his crime-fighting career so she may as well be at his side supporting him and joining what Ned labeled as the F.O.S (Friends of Spider-Man, despite the fact that that club only held two members with May Parker as an honorary inclusion); and dead last turned out to be that he was undeniably, indisputably, and without a doubt in her mind the most reckless person alive.

Whilst Peter had all the means to be a hero, altruistic and good-natured in every possible way, he still lacked a lot of things. Like training, discipline, and strategy. It was especially evident on days like these where he'd go up against his many foes such as Tombstone, and without any form of a plan. In Peter's reasoning, there was no logical plan or battle strategy when evil was let loose. He just needed to go out and stop it. Yet still, a half-assed idea of a plan would have been more reassuring for those that kept his secret.

Especially Michelle.

It was seeming to be a normal night for her when it all transpired.

She was sat on the chair behind her desk, nose deep into the pages of Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray. A literary masterpiece in Michelle's perspective. The quiet of her room and the warm cup of tea beside her setting a peaceful mood in the dead of night. And almost nothing could ruin it... or so she thought.

With her attention invested in the intricate words of the story, she hadn't noticed the figure swinging by from the distance growing closer and closer. Nor had she paid any mind to the yapping of the small black dog that occupied her bed, Oz.

"Ozzy," she called out, eyes still fixated on her book, "Shhh, it's too late for you to be barking like that. Other people are trying to sleep." She reprimanded him in a collected voice, even knowing he wouldn't respond back. Rather, Oz yapped even louder as he spotted the figure landing by the apartment.

"Oz!—"

Before Michelle could snap at her dog, hoping to calm him down, a heavy knock—more so bang—collided with her bedroom window. Michelle's body swiveled to the direction of the commotion, seeing a red and blue clad body falling to the floor of her fire escape.

"What the f—" Michelle yelped, jumping from her seat as Oz scurried to the window.

Michelle hopped up onto her feet, following after her four legged furry friend and pried open the window to reveal Queens' friendly-neighborhood-hero all battered, bruised, and cut up while heaving deeply from his place on the ground. Part of his upper body pinned to the railing of the fire escape whilst his lower half was spread on the floor.

"Peter," Michelle gasped at seeing his injured form, "What happened to you?!?"

"Oh hey, Em," he greeted her by the nickname he'd given, words becoming slurred and indicating a concussion developing. "I was just finishing up with Tombstone when he got the jump on me by bringing in more of his goons. Kinda big and ugly and completely unfair if ya ask me. But hey, I got 'em in the end! Just have some minor injuries, though. Nothing too bad."

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