By Sunlight (P.P + M.J)

13. Talk Me Down

*MJ pov*

When MJ left the wall, she didn't really have a lot to think about. Sure, Gwen Stacy may have been talking to Peter, but MJ wasn't worried. Peter was a big boy and could handle himself. He was awkward and fumbling and she silently wished that Gwen wasn't into guys who were like that. Peter was MJ's nerd, whether anybody knew that or not.

She weaved through the people, seeing Ned by the food table. She gave him a tiny wave before noticing Jack standing apart from everyone. MJ had been slightly worried about him since they got off the elevator. He had been showing signs of anxiety during the walk and on the way up to the penthouse, and she feared that it would eventually lead up to another panic attack. But he seemed to be okay at the moment, probably feeling a little better since Mr.Osborn turned out to not be there. The werewolf had a red solo cup in his hand, arms crossed over his chest as he studied a wall of the penthouse. It was completely decked out with tribal masks, and she could tell how weird he found them by his furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips. But despite their creepiness, he couldn't stop staring. MJ joined him, and they stared at the wall together.

"They own like sixty of these things," Jack observed, and MJ glanced over at him, "I don't think I own sixty of anything."

He then paused, as if to think. He tipped his head to the side, musing, "flannel shirts. I own sixty flannel shirts."

"Woah, deja vu," MJ then said, shaking her head with wide eyes, "where have I heard that before?"

He shrugged, and a pop country song came on. Jack, being ever the singer, started to bob along with it but didn't sing, much to MJ's surprise. She waited for another second until she asked, " no singing, huh?"

"Do I look like a country singer to you?" He asked back, giving her a incredulous look followed by a smile. He then glanced upward slightly and froze, his blue eyes widening. MJ followed his gaze and saw the huge portrait of Norman Osborn hanging over the grand fireplace. He gasped slightly, taking a step back. MJ looked back at him and raised an eyebrow.

"You know it's not real, right?" She informed him. She hoped to god that he didn't say yes, because that would either be truly embarrassing or extremely worrying.

"It's so life-like," he practically whispered, his voice almost trembling.

She had no idea what to say to that, settling on, "just look away then."

He nodded slowly, taking a shaky breath. MJ shook her head, telling him he needed some fresh air before he passed out. He was indignant at the implication, but followed her anyway. She brought him to a window and opened it for him. She went back to the food table and grabbed a water bottle, thinking he needed good hydration than whatever soda he was drinking.

When she got back to him, he was leaning against the windowsill, taking deep breaths to regain his composure. She took the cup from his hand and replaced it with the water bottle. As he drank some of it, they both noticed Peter walking after Harry in the crowd, out onto the balcony. MJ couldn't see him out there, since her window was on the other side of the penthouse. Before she could wonder what they were talking about, Jack groaned into his hand, his palm over his eyes.

"This is great," Jack said as he draw his hand over his head, threading his fingers through his dark scarlet hair, now with a new stripe of orange, "my best friend is reconnecting with my worst enemy."

"Harry's not your enemy. His father is," MJ pointed out, trying to be fair, but Jack only groaned again.

"What difference does it make? If either one finds out who I am, I might as well take off and run," Jack said, hanging his head.