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Peter Parker feels sick. And there is no cure or pill or solution to the churning in his stomach. He is meeting his girlfriend’s family. It is her birthday, she reasons, when he nearly collapses at implication of her dinner invitation, and she wants her boyfriend to have dinner with her on her birthday. It isn’t a big deal, she reassures him, when he panics over which tie is the appropriate tie to wear to her house. Dinner with her family is just like dinner with May, she pecks his mouth, patiently.
But dinner with the Jones family is not like having dinner with May, Peter freaks out.
Michelle has met May. In the days before Peter Parker looked at Michelle Jones like she hung the stars in the sky, she was his friend. She came to his house and ate his food and casually corrected his math homework and helped May with the crossword. She is a familiar part of the Parker household. The fact that they are dating, according to May, is an evolution of their friendship. She does not “see MJ in a new light” now that she is dating her nephew. She is still MJ.
But Peter has not met any of Michelle’s family. He knows her mother is a doctor and works odd hours. He knows she has two older brothers, Mike and Nick. He knows that her parents are divorced, and she rarely sees her father because he travels a lot for work and is hardly ever home.
Dinner her family is decidedly not like them having dinner with May.
He is terrified to meet them all.
When he says as much, Michelle swipes a kiss on his cheek and quips, “Yeah, that’s probably smart.”
The blood drains from his face, “Probably smart? What is that supposed to mean?”
Michelle inspects two purple ties, leaving him in agonizing conversation limbo, and shoves the pattered one in his hands. “Look, my Mom is cool. She saves lives and shit. She’ll like you because I do, but my brothers are cavemen. They’ll think they need to protect me or something misguidedly chivalrous like that.”
Peter blanches, “And your Dad?”
“Oh, total shotgun on the front lawn type,” she shrugs. She talks about her father potentially shooting him with a shotgun as casually as ordering pizza. It disturbs him. And, honestly, is more than kind of hot. Michelle Jones is unflinching.
But she was always fearless.
When he told her he was Spider-Man, or more aptly when she told him that she already knew his secret, she did not react like he expected. Michelle merely squinted at him and quipped, “Its kind of obvious.” She was a steady, calming presence in his life. She was his best friend. She centered him.
He was growingly increasingly more in love with her every day. At seventeen, the breadth of his feelings for her was scary and exhilarating all at once. She could be his first love, his last love and every love in-between. The realization constantly bowls him over.
He wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans, “Maybe we should reschedule dinner.”
She shakes her head, “No. You can do this.” She takes the tie she chose from his hands and starts to tie it for him. He is incapable of doing anything beyond panicking. “They’re gonna love you,” she smooths his tie down.
“How do you know?” he worries his lip.
“Because I love you,” she replies. It is that simple.
He feels himself thaw and his insides bloom with affection. He wraps his arms around her waist and tugs her close. “I love you, too” he says before kissing her squarely on the mouth.
“Mm,” she hums when their lips part. Mischief dances in her eyes, “We’ve got a half hour until we need to leave.”
He raises his eyebrow, backing her up to the edge of his bed, “Is that right?”
She folds her hand in the patterned fabric of his tie. Michelle laments, “And I just tied this tie.”
Peter slants his mouth over hers, “Fuck the tie.”
They are late to dinner.
Peter smooths back his hair, which is thoroughly mused, on the stoop outside her apartment building. Beside him, Michelle affectionately rolls her eyes, “You look fine.”
“I look like we just rolled around on my bed for an hour,” he counters.
She winks at him. He bites back a smirk. His girlfriend is an absolute wonder. It takes all of his will power to not pull her into a deep kiss. He is glad for his restraint when one of her older brothers open the door to the brownstone.
The first thing Peter notices about her brother is he is tall. It shouldn’t surprise him because MJ is tall, too. The fact that her brother would tower over him should not be alarming. Peter gulps. In the doorway, he appraises Peter in a way that makes the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man feel very cowardly.
“I’m Peter,” he introduces himself, sticking his hand out to shake.
There is a noticeable hesitation before he clasps his hand, “I’m Mike.”
Michelle powers her way through her front door, blowing past her older brother, “Yeah, yeah. Mike meet Peter. Peter meet Mike. Mom!” She shouts.
A disjointed voice from the kitchen calls back, “In here!”
Peter is left standing on the stoop as Michelle disappears behind a door. Mike remains sturdy in the doorway and raises his eyebrow, “You’re shorter than I would’ve thought.”
He nods, “I, uh, get that a lot.”
Mercifully, Mike steps aside. Peter walks inside the Jones household and the door clicks shut behind him. He nervously touches his hair, again, checking that it is not standing up comically in any which way. Peter needs to make a good impression. He likes MJ. He likes MJ a lot. He would like to keep dating MJ, and so, it is vital he wins her family over.
Peter knows he is not the best at first impressions. He is the kind of guy that wins people over. He doesn’t ooze winning charm or have the dazzling sort of smile that endears him to people from the jump. He is awkward.
Another, equally tall guy, jogs down the stairs and joins Mike in the front room. The three boys all stare at each other. The newest addition snorts, “You have a hickey on your neck.” Peter’s hand flies to his neck to cover the purpling bruise he didn’t know his girlfriend left as a gift on his neck. Damn it, MJ, he internally groans. “Relax,” her brother pockets his hands, “MJ is a big girl. She can make her own decisions.”
Mike openly scowls, “Shut up, Junior.”
Junior rolls his eyes and in that moment Peter sees so much of MJ in him that it almost knocks him on his ass. He only manages to recover when Junior snipes, “Leave him be, Mike. The kid is already shitting bricks. Aren’t you, Parker?”
Peter nods.
“See? Shitting bricks. Come on, Parker,” Junior says, “Dinner’s ready.”
Dinner is lovely. Mrs. Jones is far less intimidating than both of her sons. She is tall, like the rest of her brood, but has a kind smile. She reminds him of May and it sets him at ease, especially when Mike seems to only be able to stare daggers at him.
He notices that their father has a seat at the table, but he is absent. Occasionally, Michelle looks over at the seat and her eyes flash with something painful. From the little she talks about home, he knows that she grew up with a mostly absent father. There were recitals, birthdays and holidays he missed. She says it doesn’t bother her, but whenever she talks about her Dad, Michelle folds herself into his arms and sniffles in the curve of his neck.
Michelle’s greatest pretend is that she doesn’t care. She cares more than most people he knows. She is a bleeding heart, and he loves her for it.
Halfway through dinner, she talks into her glass, “I thought he was coming tonight.”
The table gets quiet. Everyone around the table avoids looking at the empty chair. Her mother clears her throat, “He said he’d be here, baby. He’ll be here.”
“Sure,” she rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”
Mike lowers his fork, “Don’t do this, MJ.”
“I’m fine,” she lies. Peter grabs her hand under the table. She squeezes it back.
Her mother abruptly stands from her chair, “I’ll call him.”
“No, don’t bother—”
“I’ll call him,” her mother affirms.
Mrs. Jones tries to call her ex-husband twice. He doesn’t answer either time.
Dessert is a dismal affair. The table is quiet and he can see the beginnings of tears starting to prickle in his girlfriend’s eyes. Just when the table is too quiet, too tense, the front door flies open. He can hear someone wiping their boots in the entry hall, and everyone at the table stiffens.
Save Michelle. No, his girlfriend becomes the most casual, intentionally unbothered person in the room. She makes a wonderful actress. If he did not know her, he would have believed she couldn’t give two shits whether or not her father ever arrived.
He hears muffled cursing from the front room. “God damn, son of a—Monica! Mike better stop leaving these god damn shoes in front of the door.”
Mike shoves some dessert into his mouth. Junior chuckles.
Michelle’s father stomps in the room and Peter feels himself go into cardiac arrest. His heart thumbs loudly and stops.
Mrs. Jones rolls her eyes, “Fury, this isn’t your house. You don’t get a say where my son puts his god damn shoes.”
His eyes lock with Nick Fury, and Nick Fury narrows the one good eye he still has left. He is dead. That is the only explanation for the weird twilight zone turn of events because there is no way in hell that Michelle Jones, the girl he is in love with, is the daughter of Nick freakin’ Fury.
“Parker,” Fury snarls.
Michelle drops all pretense of looking uninterested in her father’s sudden appearance and turns to look at her boyfriend. “You know each other?” She shifts her gaze to her Dad. “Fury?” she asks, searching for answers.
Peter leaps up out of his chair. His napkin falls pathetically to the floor. He drops MJ’s hand. “Fury,” he gulps.
“Parker,” the Director of SHIELD repeats, louder.
“You know my Dad?” MJ says at the same time her mother asks, “How do you know, Peter?”
Fury seems to finally notice his audience and he starts to craft a lie. The look in his eye is threatening enough that Peter knows whatever the man says he is going to go along with, for his long term survival and safety. That is, of course, if Fury decides to let him live because, well, HE IS DATING HIS FREAKING DAUGHTER!
He breezes across the room and sits down. Peter joins him and retakes his seat. Michelle is squinting at him, and he suddenly remembers he had sex with MJ, gosh, three hours ago. Can Fury tell he fucked his daughter today?
Oh shit. He is going to die.
“Well,” Fury starts, loading his plate with some birthday cake. Peter does not like the way he is brandishing his knife. It makes his stomach nervous. “Peter was Tony Stark’s intern. I did cyber security for the Avengers, so I, uh, knew the kid in passing.”
Peter nearly snorts. Nick Fury is not a cyber security agent. He is the Director of SHIELD. He has seen Nick Fury make three grown men cry—at the same time. Cyber security is laughable.
Fury flashes the knife he is holding, “Right, Parker?”
Peter jerkily nods, “Yep. Absolutely.”
Michelle pinches his leg under the table. She knows he is Spider-Man. This conversation is not over. Not by a longshot.
Oh shit. He is so, so dead.
He cannot help himself. He asks MJ, “I thought your last name was Jones.”
Mrs. Jones replies, instead, “My last name is Jones, Peter.”
“Better than Fury,” MJ’s father mumbles. Peter looks over at him and immediately understands. It was a protective measure, naming his family Jones. No one will go looking for MJ if she is Michelle Jones. Michelle Jones is invisible, whereas Michelle Fury would have a target on her back.
Or, at least, she would have been invisible had she not started dating him.
Fury looks like he is thinking this, too. Peter lowers his eyes.
After dinner, Peter sees Fury try to talk to MJ. She is still hurt by his late arrival. He can see how she holds all of her anger and tension and disappointment in her shoulders. She makes a good show of not caring, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Whatever, Fury,” she says, before she stomps upstairs, dismissing her father. Peter makes to follow her, but Nick grabs him by the arm and tugs him into the empty living room.
He is alone with Nick Fury.
He is alone with Nick Fury and he is dating his daughter.
Peter feels faint. Fury rolls his eyes, “Relax, Parker. I’m not going to kill you. MJ would have my head.” The sentiment, somehow, does not make him feel any better. “Does she know?”
Peter does not play dumb. If Fury wants to cut straight to the chase, he will, too. “Yes.” He loves her. She is brilliant to boot. Michelle knows he is Spider-Man. He didn’t even have to tell her, she had figured it out. He remembers how startled he was in Prague when she had blurted it out.
Fury sighs, “God damn it, Parker.”
“What?” Peter’s voice cracks. “You really think I could keep it from her?”
“Yes,” he says flatly, and he sounds so much like MJ it momentarily freaks Peter out.
“Well, I didn’t tell her. She figured it out, so…”
“You can’t date my daughter.”
Peter stares at the older man. He terrifies him. He is mostly certain that Nick Fury knows fifty ways to kill him with his thumb alone. He is not the kind of man he ever wants to go toe-to-toe with in a fight. He is a hard ass.
He shakes his head, “No.” Fury looks genuinely surprised. Peter continues, “No, I love her.”
“Peter—”
“No, I love her, okay?” Peter Parker cuts Nick Fury off. It is one of the scariest things he has ever done, and he has fought Thanos. “No disrespect to you, Mr. Fury, sir, but the only reason I’m not going to date your daughter is because she doesn’t want to date me, too. And she does. So, uh,” he summons all of his courage and starts to inch backwards to the door. He trips over a side table. Fury narrows his eyes, exasperated, as Peter rights himself. Peter smooths his shirt down, “I’ll be going now.” He awkwardly adds, “You, uh, raised a wonderful woman, Mr. Fury.”
Michelle is waiting for him in her room. She is perched on the edge of her bed and she looks completely unmoved. So, he knows he is in deep shit. The deepest of shits.
“Hey,” he tries to smile.
She shakes her head, “Nuh uh.” Peter clicks the door shut behind him so they are truly alone. “You know my Dad?”
He flinches, “MJ—”
“No. No excuses. You know my Dad is not a question, Peter.”
“Its complicated,” he says. It is true.
She crosses her arms over her chest, “Enlighten me, then. Who is Fury, really?”
He almost lies. He nearly tries to shield her from the truth. But when MJ looks at him, every stupid time her eyes search his, he is completely lost. He would give her everything. He would give up everything for her. She is his kryptonite. He will not lie to her. “He’s the Director of SHIELD.”
If the news is catastrophic to her, he cannot tell. The only indication she is surprised is how she breathes out through her nose. “Okay,” she finally says, after a few moments of silence.
“Okay?”
She falls apart, “No.”
He rushes across the room and crushes her in a tight embrace. He holds her together as she fractures. He is going to be right here, he whispers to her as she sniffles. He isn’t going to leave her. Peter is not sure if it makes it better, but later, before she falls asleep in his arms, having completely tuckered herself out, she whispers, “Thank you.”
He is certain this is not over. There is a lot to discuss. He has a lot to figure out. Fury being MJ’s father makes things complicated.
But as he looks down at the sleeping girl in his arms, he doesn’t care about complicated. He will deal with complicated, so long as he gets to be with her.