hey folks!! i know i’ve been a bit of a ghost just liking posts w the rare comment here and there but life has been a bit busy! i’m also preparing for the second installment of pinky’s quarterly recs and that takes a bit of time bc i want to give all authors the respect they deserve when it comes to their works but TRUST that once all that is sorted ya girl is back to her spidey!osc bullshit :P
CONTENT: strong-ish language??, mj is the queen of not sharing her true feelings, a one off comment about jumping off a building that doesn't happen, a cold hot dog, oh! and idiot best friends pining over each other but too fucking oblivious to do anything about it.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
so i peeked at the pole before time was up and saw the consensus, i will not be killing john lennon (gwen stacey) anytime soon, BUT KNOW that i have plans for evil with her, unfortunately (rip andrew garfield's spidey, you wouldve hated me).
ANYWAYYY i would say it worries me how much inspo i have right now to write for spidey!osc but im not gonna jinx it and i pray for the heaviest of creative rains to bless me the way i bless the rains down in africa. anyway, have fun with a segment of some lore drop!! oh another thing (can you tell this is me typing w a stream of consciousness as strong as the goddamn amazon during rainy season) i will not be chronologically posting lore, some stuff might be when they are teenagers and some stuff might be when they are 24 and everything in between.
SONGS TO LISTEN TO: hummingbird ; metro boomin and james blake | midnight city ; m83 | all the stars ; kendrick lamar & SZA | rocketeer ; far east movement ft. ryan tedder
wanna go stargazing?
It was 7:30 PM in New York City, in the peak of summer. And still, Oscar stared at the text, threw his shoes on, and made his way out of his home. His best friend had something on her mind; surely the city had enough heroes to cover until the sun went down.
He held the door handle at the specific 36-degree angle needed to properly open the door to the rooftop. As he stepped through, his eyes landed on her, resting her elbows on the ledge and looking south towards the skyline. Her clothes were light and breathable, and her hair suffered from the humidity of summer in the city. Her focus shifted from the horizon to the boy and the clicking of his sneakers on the ground.
MJ turned back around to the city, “We have a system, Piastri...”
Oscar grimaced as he stopped in his tracks. He quickly pulled out his phone and responded:
heard they’d be bright.
MJ's phone pinged. She slowly reached into her back pocket and pulled her phone out, reading Oscar’s text. She exhaled a laugh and slightly turned her head, “I didn’t think you’d be available.”
Oscar slowly approached the girl, taking his place next to her, just far enough away to feel the heat radiate from her body. “Why would you think that?”
MJ quirked her eyebrow and unlocked her phone, “Two days ago at 8:15, me: wanna go stargazing? You: They’re not out tonight. Four days ago, I said, 'Wanna go stargazing?' You replied with, ‘they’re not out tonight.’ The week before that? I asked you every evening and you replied with—”
“They’re not out tonight,” Oscar mumbled.
“Yeah, ‘they’re not out tonight’,” MJ sighed.
Oscar fixed his gaze upon the same skyline in the distance, the same one he swings through in the night, saving a random citizen here and stopping a runaway train there. It was easier to stare at the stability of it all instead of turning his head in the direction of the girl who consumed his mind, body, and soul. The quiet consumed their space for a few moments until he summoned a short burst of his courage from the tiny voice on his shoulder, “I’m sorry I haven’t been around often. Stella’s has just been booming this summer, and suddenly they need me for every delivery— And obviously in my downtime you’re at your summer intensives at NYU, so I’m usually studying Miss Stra— I mean Missus Balotelli’s APUSH material and—”
She finally looked at him and frowned, “Oscar.”
He turned to face her and looked into her piercing eyes, the same ones he looked for in his dreams when he had trouble sleeping, “Yeah?”
She broke eye contact first and looked at her feet as they suddenly became more interesting, “Look, you don’t owe me your time—”
“Yes, I do.”
“No, you don’t,” she countered.
“You’re literally my best friend. I do,” Oscar tried to finalize.
“Again, no, you don’t,” MJ stated, “I know we both are leading very busy lives at the moment, but it wouldn’t hurt to hear from you that you’re alive.”
Oscar froze at the mention of the word alive. Surely she doesn’t know I’m Spider-Man, right?
“Like, I would hate to find out from your mom that you overworked yourself from working at Stella’s and applying for the Webber Industries internship—”
“How do you know about that?”
“Shit,” MJ froze. She held her hands out in mercy, not to ask him for forgiveness but rather— “Hattie will kill me. Please don’t tell her I told you that she told me.”
Oscar lightly groaned and tipped his head back, “I won’t. I promise—”
“Swear on the Q?”
“Cross the tracks and hope to die,” he offers, “but I will find ways to fill her week with minor inconveniences.”
MJ let out a sigh of relief and giggled, a sound Oscar had quickly learned to treasure, “fingers crossed she doesn’t kill you.”
The conversation lulled into an awkward silence, one the pair hadn’t experienced since that fateful first day they met, and that worried Oscar. MJ always said what was on her mind, at least to him she did, so why was she so quiet now?
Her eyes were back on the skyscrapers in the distance, but Oscar noticed her hands were clutching the brick like a lifeline, and he could only come to one very obvious conclusion: something was eating at her. “What’s going on, MJ?”
Her hands gripped the ledge tighter for a split second before letting go and resting her elbows again. She remained quiet, a gentle and much-needed breeze sweeping in to cool the teenagers, blowing their hair softly and tussling any loose pieces out of place. Oscar’s hand ached to reach out and use his fingers to delicately place the unruly piece of hair behind her ear, when suddenly she turned and blurted, “I’m scared.”
Oscar snorted at the sudden admission, causing MJ to roll her eyes and turn her head back to the scenery, “MJ— wait— I didn’t mean to laugh. You just—”
“Just what, Oscar?” Her eyes were aflame, rendering the boy useless for a second.
“You just... You caught me off guard.” MJ raised an eyebrow before crossing her arms across her chest. As Oscar stood straighter to address his mistake, MJ noticed just how tall he had gotten: There’s no way I’m looking up at him right now, right?
“What exactly about that caught you off guard?”
“The girl who constantly shuts down Flash Thompson as if she’s folding clothes is scared.”
“He’s not that scary—”
“MJ, he doesn’t push you into a locker with his jockstrap that he uses after basketball practice,” Oscar sassed.
MJ scrunched her nose in disgust, and Oscar couldn’t help but think: cute.
“Yeah, well, therefore invalidating your previous point,” She argues, “He doesn’t shove me in lockers so—”
“That’s besides the point,” Oscar leaned his body against the ledge, his attention fully on her, “my best friend, the same girl who convinces me to partake in the craziest schemes, like sneaking into a Horner Corp lab to go look at a fat spider, or sneaking into Principal Wolff’s office to change everyone’s grade in Mr. Callahan’s class—”
“Allegedly!”
“Allegedly,” Oscar adds. He noticed that her gaze glossed over, so he softened his posture and lowered his voice, “But it seems that whatever you are scared of is giving you a real big fright, so what is it you’re scared of? Nothing your strong best friend can’t help you with.”
MJ scoffed, transitioning off into laughter. Oscar, for what appeared to be the millionth time that afternoon, was rendered speechless at her sounds of joy, even if it was directed at his ridiculous — albeit true, unbeknownst to her— statement. She had come down from her laughing fit and let a small smile settle on her face before turning her back to the view and leaning her back on the brick. She took a breath to speak before pausing. Oscar shimmied closer, their elbows touching. “It feels like it’s all happening so fast...”
Oscar cocked his head in confusion. MJ pushed herself off the edge of the building as she started to pace and shake her hands in exasperation, “It’s like— I can’t. Ugh! I just fucking can’t.”
Oscar walked up to her and placed his arms on her shoulders; warmth not caused by the setting sun consuming him, and if it weren’t for the glow of he sun, she probably would’ve noticed the pink hue dusted across his face and the tips of his ears, “Yes, you can. The fine line between being scared and being brave is doing the scary thing...”
MJ looked into his eyes, searching for her own truth in them. He just hoped she wouldn’t look far enough to see the masked vigilante ringing cathedral bells, shouting You need to go soon!
MJ took a deep breath and confessed, “Everything is going by so fast... Once summer ends, we’re going to be seniors in high school, and then the school year is going to go by in a breeze because we’ll be consumed by tests and school events and—”
“Breathe, MJ,” Oscar pacified.
“And there is no guarantee we all get into the same school or...”
“Or what?”
MJ cleared her throat, only to whisper into the space between them, as if simply speaking would be louder than the sirens sounding off in the streets below, “or the guarantee that we would all want to go to the same school...”
Oscar stiffened at her confession, “What do you mean?” All he can remember since joining the group is how hard Logan, Gwen, and MJ were trying to get into NYU. An effort he was pulled into the minute he stepped into the circle.
MJ gently brought her arms up to remove Oscar’s hands from her shoulders and took a step back, “I’ve been looking at other schools.”
“Like, what other schools? Like Pace? Columbia? Something upstate? An hour train ride away?”
MJ kicked at invisible dirt, “More like a six-hour flight away...”
Oscar’s jaw slightly dropped, “across the pond or across the country?”
“Across the country,” she admitted, “But! I was just looking—they’re backup schools, if anything. The dream is NYU with my three best friends, right?”
“Yeah, that’s the dream...” The thought of MJ being six hours away by air travel scrambled his mind more than he could have ever expected. The possibility, although very small (yet very real), of only seeing MJ during breaks that may or may not line up adequately enough for him to properly enjoy her presence terrified him now.
MJ’s voice brought him out of his thoughts, “You alright there, Osc?”
“Yeah—” he began as his phone went off with his patrol alarm. He quickly turned it off before looking up at MJ, “Sorry, Stella calls.”
MJ scrunched her nose in curiosity, “I thought you already worked a full shift today.”
Oscar scrambled for an excuse as he began to walk backwards to the rooftop door to open it, “I— yeah, but it doesn't hurt to work doubles. Help mum out, yknow?”
He extended his hand out in invitation to the young girl. MJ walks forward to reach for his hand, squeezing it once before letting go and walking through the open door, and if Oscar felt the tingles of the pressure of her hand for the next hour, he didn’t say a thing.
Once back on the fifth floor, Oscar walked MJ back to her door and stood by, memorizing her features as she fished her key out of her pocket. As soon as MJ opened the door and walked in, Oscar began to walk away, but MJ called out to him.
Oscar stopped in the middle of the hallway. “Yeah?”
“Thanks for coming to stargaze with me...”
“Anytime,” He offered, “I swear on the Q.”
MJ’s breath caught in her throat, “cross the tracks and hope to die?”
Oscar walked backwards to his own unit, marking an X over his heart. MJ beamed her thousand-watt smile, reserved for very few people, directly at him. He tripped over nothing, and MJ just laughed as she walked back into her apartment and closed the door behind her.
As soon as she disappeared, he ran back home. His mom was out at some work dinner, Mae was sleeping over at a friend's house, and Edie was babysitting for the young mom on the tenth floor. Hattie was the only person home. “Hattie, I’m going out!”
Hattie removed her headphones, “huh?”
Oscar popped his head out of the room, half of his body in the red and blue suit, “I said I’m going out, lie to mum for me, will you?”
“As long as you don’t die,” she acquiesced, “and bring me a hot dog, no relish.”
Oscar pulled on his mask and shouted as he threw himself through an open window, “gotcha!”
Hattie put her headphones back on and kept scrolling through her phone.
***
Oscar’s patrol through the city hadn’t been too bad for the night. A mugging here, an argument between two drivers there, and accidentally running into Daredevil, to which he promptly apologized for being in his territory.
As he swung back home with Hattie’s hot dog in hand, his enhanced vision picked up a person on the rooftop of his building. He stopped at a taller building a block away to get a better look, only to see MJ leaning against the ledge again, crossing her arms to find a little bit of warmth in the surprisingly chilly night.
Oscar shot a web and softly landed on the ledge, but MJ was in her own head, “You should have brought a sweater.”
MJ whipped her body in his direction and let out a shriek.
Oscar held out his arms, trying to show her he meant no harm, not that he could ever hurt her if circumstances demanded it. “Whoa, sorry— I— I didn’t mean to scare you!”
“You’re— you’re—holy shit.”
“Actually, they call me Spider-Man,” Oscar joked.
MJ had to take a couple of deep breaths before she spoke up again, “I wasn’t gonna jump, if that’s what you were thinking.”
“I wasn’t,” Oscar began, “but now I am...”
MJ let out an exhale that sounded like a laugh, but her face returned to her RBF, the expression reserved for people she doesn’t know.
“So, what are you doing up here?”
MJ crossed her arms and avoided his gaze, “Nothing important.”
Oscar takes a seat on the ledge, his legs dangling over the edge, “Can’t be nothing if you’re on a rooftop at like, four in the morning.”
MJ let out a long exhale, “You’re just a stranger behind the mask. You don’t really care.”
Oscar’s chest tightened, “Yeah, I guess I am a stranger behind the mask... But when it’s on, I’m just your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”
She let out a noncommittal hum, “I’ll tell you why I’m out here if you tell me why you have a hot dog in your hand.”
He looks down at his hand, carefully craddling Hattie’s hot dog, “Uh, I owe... a friend.”
“The idea of Spider-Man standing and purchasing a hot dog at a cart is hilarious,” She delivers with the most deadpan voice.
Oscar had forgotten how scary MJ could be with people she didn’t know, “Yet, you’re not laughing.”
“I am laughing,” she debated, “but on the inside.”
“Right,” he began, “I told you about my hot dog, now tell me why you’re out here in the cold.”
And it felt like the conversation they had hours ago, in the same spot, “I’m scared.”
Oscar perked up at the words and turned so he was sitting on the inside part of the ledge, facing MJ, “Why?”
She let out a shaky breath and began to speak, “I think I’m losing my best friend.”
Oscar could only hope that his body language remained neutral as he panicked on the inside, “and why do you think that?”
“He’s been so distant lately,” she winced as she admitted her troubles, “and he doesn’t owe me his time, but I feel like he isn’t telling me everything, like he’s lying to me. Sometimes it feels like there’s a joke he’s told that everyone but me is in on, and I feel left out. Like, he’s my best friend and I’d like to think I’m his, too. I mean, we tell each other everything, but lately I feel like he is avoiding me. Is that dumb, Spider-Man? For me to feel this way?”
Oscar placed Hattie’s hot dog next to him and picked his knees up to tuck them under his chin, “No. not at all. He sounds like an idiot.”
MJ narrowed her eyes at him, “He’s not. He’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. I just— I wonder if he’s trying to ghost me so that he doesn’t have to be my friend anymore...”
“That’s not true at all,” Oscar stands quickly, scaring MJ, “Sorry. It’s just— it sounds like he has a lot on his plate and he doesn’t wanna drag you into it.”
“He wouldn’t be dragging me into anything,” she says, “He’s my best friend. It’s what I signed up for.”
Oscar had to take a minute to gather his bearings. He never felt more blessed than to have a best friend who was a ride-or-die kind of person, like MJ, and the latter option scared him. Anyone who had found out about his hero persona was because he was too careless, and too many people knew: His sisters, Logan, and Mark Webber. He couldn’t entwine the best thing that had happened in his life into his nocturnal activities.
“I don’t know what to do, Spider-Man,” she confessed.
Oscar took a deep breath and a deep breath out and spoke, “I think everyone carries things differently. Just because he’s being an idiot doesn’t mean he wants to stop being your friend. Just have patience; some things people have to deal with on their own, but that doesn’t mean they won’t need a support system. It’s up to him if he wants to open up or not, and don’t hold it against the guy if he doesn’t; some things are hard to come clean about.”
The corner of MJ’s lip raised a fraction, “I know. I just want to make sure he’s okay.”
Oscar smiled softly behind the mask, “Trust me. He’s doing better than you can ever imagine.”
“Thanks, Spider-Man.”
“You can call me Spidey, that’s what my friends call me,” he said.
“Oh,” teased MJ, “we’re friends now?”
“If you want,” he played along.
“Thanks, Spidey,” MJ whispered, “You should get going, I’m sure your friend doesn’t want a cold hot dog.”
“Oh!” he realized, “yeah! Shit.”
“Thanks again, Spidey,” MJ said as she walked away.
“Hey,” Oscar called out, stopping MJ in her path, “for what it’s worth, anyone would be lucky to have a friend that cares like you do.”
MJ's eyes started to water. Sure, she knew that, her friends said it all the time, but to hear someone with an outside perspective say it? It felt validating, “Thank you.”
Oscar watched MJ disappear back into the building and sat for another two seconds before crawling down to his bedroom window. He opened the window and saw Hattie sitting on the floor with her headphones on, this time with her laptop open, typing. He nudged her leg with his foot as he took off his mask, handing over the cold hot dog.
“Sorry, it’s cold.”
“A hot dog is a hot dog; this is a win in my eyes,” Hattie accepted, “what happened, anyway? I thought you said you were gonna be home in five minutes.”
“...I made a new friend.”
let me know if you would like to be tagged in future installments of F.N.A.!
hard debating whether to write some lore building between mj!reader and oscar ORRR writing gwen's death and all surrounding it. either way, i have ideas for both.
Is it possible to get a Lando Norris request where he is in a secret relationship but he gets caught out kissing her before a race
hello anon!
first and foremost, thank you for your request! unfortunately, because my mind runs a million miles per hour, i am -- at the moment-- only dedicating myself to anything friendly neighborhood aussie related.
but mayhaps one day i shall open up to all kinds of requests :)
one of many installments in my Friendly Neighborhood Aussie series!
PAIRING: spidey!oscar piastri x mj!reader
WORDS: 8.1 K
CONTENT: mentions of death, vivid descriptions of pain, the horrible mixing of different kinds of spider-man cannons and my imagination to create my perfect spidey world for oscar, and refusing to proof read because it is my armageddon and i will be dying on this hill
AUTHOR'S NOTE: yeah, idk lmaooo. we needed more spidey!osc and unfortunately for me and fortunately for you I have a problem where i need to write incessantly and fill the void. on the other hand i didn't add too much f1 into the universe, simply because i couldn't be bothered. also a big thanks to via and el, two people on this godforsaken site who also love to indulge in some spidey!osc.
ONE
Oscar was a punctual boy. At least, he had been back in Melbourne. But this was New York City. Here, the claws of tardiness didn’t discriminate between sinners and saints. Unfortunately, they grabbed Oscar tightly on his first day officially attending Tribeca Tech.
A myriad of incidents happened between 5:45 AM and 7 AM:
The poor boy slept through his alarm. In his defense, he spent the night before catching up on work assigned during the summer. But moving with his family halfway across the world and acting as an impromptu babysitter for his mom, who worked overtime to secure their small, two-bedroom, rent-controlled apartment in Spanish Harlem, left him little time for anything else. There was hardly any chance to get work done before his first day of school. Hattie had to launch a pillow at his face to wake him up.
His mom left early for her new job at Webber Industries. The night before, she said she wanted to make a good impression. She then reminded Oscar he’d need to help his sisters get ready, make breakfast, and drop them off and pick them up from school. Oscar just gave a non-committal 'mhm' and waved his hand in acknowledgment. In reality, all he wanted was to curse out Isaac Newton for discovering calculus. Somewhere between the string of curses and burning the midnight oil on the living room floor, he forgot the task entirely.
Mae accidentally spilled her yogurt on Oscar’s uniform. 'Sorry, Osc,' she said. 'Don’t worry about it, Mae.' He had to rummage through their tightly packed closet, which held all his and his sister’s belongings, to find a spare shirt. It took him fifteen minutes to find the embroidered dress shirt. By the time he buttoned it, the crisp lines were obvious, and it was too late to take it off and iron it.
As he rushed all the girls out and down the hall to the stairs, two men appeared with what looked like the world’s largest couch. After a minute of searching for a way through, he sent the girls through the small space between the men’s legs. He threw his backpack to his sisters on the other side. Then he sucked in his stomach as much as he could to let the behemoth couch and its carriers pass.
He almost ate pavement on his way to catching the bus to take his sisters to their school. Edie could only look at him and say, “I think you need to tie your shoelaces.”
Morning traffic in the city for everyone commuting anywhere below 92nd Street in Manhattan. Oscar thought it would be easier to avoid once he dropped his sisters off and went underground. It was on this day that he made the mental note to never again underestimate the chaos of the city on a Monday morning.
After dropping the girls off, he made his way to the nearest train station. The goddamn Q going downtown. The delays on the track and the usual evil spirit of the MTA having it out for everyone has consumed his soul, including: the confusing transfer at Times Square and 42nd, the occasional mutter to himself that he should have run the route a day or two earlier, and almost taking the uptown train instead of the downtown one. The pushing of bodies around him, people who didn’t care because they also had somewhere to be, the full glory of the New York City experience almost became too much for the young boy until his eyes landed on the building with big Times New Roman lettering reading: TRIBECA TECH.
He ran up the steps and pushed the doors open with all the momentum from his sprint, and then made a beeline for the main office, accidentally knocking a girl down in the process. Without even glancing back, he simply shouted, “Sorry!” and kept making his way over.
When he made his way to the front desk, he slammed his hands down and panted, “Piastri!”
The middle-aged woman with slicked-back hair and a bejeweled apple brooch on her blazer simply stated, “You’re late.”
“Yes, I know, but-”
“Piastri?” She interrupted.
“Mhm. From Aust-”
“New kid?”
“Yeah,” he exhaled, trying to get his heart rate back to normal.
“You missed your escort,” she commented, “She was just in here.”
“And, I’m so sorry about that...” his eyes darted around her workspace and landed on a plaque that read- “Missus Anderson.”
“It’s the first day-”
Oscar was starting to lose his patience, “Yeah-”
“You can’t be making a habit of this-”
“Heard,” he answered with finality, but Mrs. Anderson didn’t pick up on it.
“Is this going to be an everyday thing— what did you say your name was again?” She asked as she reached for a tardy slip.
“Piastri.”
“That’s a... name, alright,” she wearily mentioned as she wrote Piastri on the tardy slip.
“Well, it’s Oscar actually-”
She quickly yanks back the slip before he can fully grasp it, “Well, why didn't you say that?”
Oscar threw his arms up in exasperation and opened his mouth to answer when the principal came out of his office, in tow was a blond with a bolt buzzed into the side of his hair, and his gaze cast down, “It’s the first day of school, Flash. Please, let’s not have a repeat of the eighth grade.”
Oscar chose the wrong moment to be quiet and observant because when the boy looked up, he simply sneered, “What are you looking at?”
The poor Aussie opened his mouth, but no response came out, leaving him looking like a goldfish in the presence of sharks. Flash grinned, “They let just about anyone in this school now.”
Flash walked out of the office and back to what Oscar assumed was his first class of the day, when he felt a clasp on his shoulder and turned around to the tall principal, “Oscar Piastri? With the Senna Foundation, correct?”
If anyone asked Oscar in that very moment, or even in the future, if he was going to shit himself standing next to a man who had about a whole foot on his height, he would say no, that he absolutely kept it together. It was one of the few things in life he would lie about.
Oscar nodded, “Yes, sir.”
“I’m Principal Wolff,” he began, “and you’re late.”
Oscar groaned.
***
“Miss Strauss, this is Oscar Piastri.”
All Oscar wanted in that very moment was for the earth to swallow him whole and spit him back out in Melbourne, where all his old friends were, where everything was comfortable, and where he didn’t feel like a complete outsider—
“No way,” oh, he really wanted out now. Was this New York magic working its worst on him? Was this his initiation to truly becoming a city kid? It had to be right? because there was no way Flash Thompson was sitting in the back right corner with a smug grin, chewing on the end of his pen like it was Oscar’s hopes and dreams.
“Oh! Oscar, you’re from th-” Miss Strauss was swiftly cut off by Principal Wolff.
“From Australia. He travelled a long way to be here. Please give him a warm welcome to Tribeca Tech and New York City.”
Miss Strauss immediately understood the tone and adjusted her posture, “Right! Yes! Welcome, Oscar. You can take the empty seat next to— Has anyone seen MJ?”
Toto speaks up, “She’s-”
“Right here,” responded a voice from behind the tall man, and the whole class, including Miss Strauss, yelped.
A girl, who looks vaguely familiar to Oscar, stands in the doorway with an icepack in her hands.
“MJ,” Strauss begins, “where have you been?”
“New kid was late and I was walking back to class when I got steamrolled...” She trails as she and everyone else's eyes slowly land on Oscar.
He grimaced, “Sorry. I was late.”
TWO
His first day at Tribeca Tech was nothing short of horrible. Come to find out, almost no one had done the agonizing math homework he spent the night before trying to complete. Then, he forgot his lunch money on the counter at home, so he went most of the half hour without eating until one of the lunch ladies felt bad and snuck him an apple. Last but not least, Flash had picked him out of the crowd and practically signed his social life’s death certificate, set to expire until they graduated, maybe even after that. The worst part of it all? It all happened in front of the girl he knocked over and her friends. MJ simply watched on, with what he learned from other classmates was her signature RBF.
They quickly defended her character, saying that she was a truly kind girl and extremely intelligent. She just didn’t really waste her facial expressions on people who weren’t Gwen Stacey or Logan Sargeant. So when the final bell of the day rang, and he tried to apologize, she had already made her way out of their physics class and was sandwiched between the two blondes.
Oscar, feeling that this was going to be the next four years at T-Tech, slumped to the subway station in resignation. He purposefully counted the grates on the street so that he didn’t have to go home and recount to his mom and sisters how horrible—
His sisters. He forgot he had to pick up his sisters. His mom was going to kill him. And for the nth time that day, he was chasing after public transportation.
He could see the train pulling up, but his student MTA card was sitting at the bottom of his book bag, and with his supercomputer brain and the flickering train arrival announcement board overhead, the next train wouldn't come for another thirty minutes, which would make him forty minutes late to pick up his sisters. So he did what he saw another kid doing at Times Square Station, and he attempted to jump the turnstile. Attempted. His gangly, early teenage limbs got caught, and he ate pavement. Again. As the train pulled away.
“Mum’s going to kill me,” he muttered to himself, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.
“Not if you kill yourself first.”
Oscar’s eyes opened in surprise to see a pair of black Chucks with frilly socks, attached to them the infamous RBF of the one and only MJ.
“You should get up off the floor,” She said, “This is New York, someone has definitely pissed or taken a crap there.”
Oscar scrambled to get up to his feet and dusted himself off before holding them out in disgust. MJ pulled her bag off her shoulder and reached into the smallest pocket, pulling out a clear bottle. “Hands, please.”
He cautiously offered his hands out to her. Two pumps on his hands and two for her. They rub their hands and disperse the alcohol in their own hands, silently. A scent catches Oscar’s senses as he lifts his hands up to his nose, “Mm, smells like watermelon.”
MJ’s eyes pierce him as she flatly responds, “It’s the best scent. Besides cucumber.”
Oscar just nods in agreement. He never cared about the importance of scents, but if one of the smartest girls at school says it is, it must be right.
“So why is your mum gonna kill you?” She asks, highlighting his accent.
Oscar scrunches his nose, “I was supposed to pick up my sisters from school today, but I don’t know if you can tell, but I didn’t exactly have the best first day of school today-”
“And that was going to make you late because...?”
Oscar chewed on the inside of his cheek to contemplate whether he should tell the girl he had knocked over on his first few seconds on campus the truth; she could turn around and tell Flash the ins and outs of their less-than-intimate subway station conversation... “I wanted to take my time and wallow on the way home while listening to sad house music and reflect on my day.”
Her infamous stoic face dropped as she raised her eyebrow in concern, “sad... house music?”
Oscar scrunches his nose and cocks his head back in offense, “I just told you I was going to be sad on my way home, and all you latch onto is sad house music?”
She lets out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh, “I’m sorry, it’s just— sad house music? Really?”
Oscar rolls his eyes and walks over to the platform, a second pair of footsteps behind him.
“I’m sorry, really I am—”
The tired boy stops in his tracks and takes a breath. She sounds really sincere... “I know— I just—”
“You had a really long day, I get it. Been there.”
He turns to her and sees the slump in her shoulders before she quickly readjusts herself into a straighter posture. He straightens his own posture, not to challenge her, but to join her in whatever silent battle she had going on in her own day that warranted her to relate to him. They stayed like that for a bit until eventually the silence did get awkward in that early teen, I-just-met-you-at-school-we’re-not-cool-like-that, kind of way.
“So, uh, you going uptown?” He attempts.
“Mhm.”
“Cool.”
“Yep,” She pops.
Both young and stupid, they turn their bodies towards the platform in their silence and wait in it for twenty minutes until their train comes. They get in the same car and stand on opposite ends.
***
When he gets off to transfer, he notices she does as well. He notices how she seamlessly weaves between the bustle of people, how she minds their space as she minds her own. A practiced art, a mastered science, a way of life he has only come to complain about, coming to life in a girl who makes fun of sad house music. He isn’t intentionally following her, but it just happened that he needed to take the same train home. She did not get the unspoken memo, “Are you following me?”
“I— no—”
“Just because I offered hand sanitizer and said sorry doesn’t make us best friends, man.”
“No, I would never. I just—” how was he going to defend himself and tell her it was his way home? Maybe that way, Piastri, you certified idiot, “It’s just—”
“Just what, Piastri?” Her face was flushing with... embarrassment?
“This is my way home. Well, to pick up my sisters and then go home.” Oscar had to take deep breaths and hope she believed him.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s all good.”
She shook her head and waved her hands in apology, “No, it’s not. I almost yelled at you in public and called you a creep—”
“What?!”
“But I didn’t!” She smiled. She actually smiled at him; she’s finding this funny. Oscar realized he liked the way she smiled; it was crooked, and the left side of her upper lip curled up further than the right, and—
“Nope. You did not. Thank you.”
He must’ve been staring at her smile too long before she dropped her face, but not back into the RBF she was known for, but into a face that was soft and attentive, “You’re welcome.”
The usual evil spirit of the MTA decided in that moment to write these teens into their soot-covered stars and granted the timely arrival of an uptown Q train. When they walked on, they decided to stand on the same side; not exactly next to each other, but a little over arm's reach away.
As the stops went by, the car became empty, so when Oscar’s stop arrived, he dreaded getting off and leaving her alone. But he had three little sisters to pick up, and he was already horrifically late. As he stepped out of the car, he looked back and saw her take a deep breath; the doors of the car closed, and the train sped away, Oscar’s eyes following it until it disappeared into the dark tunnels.
***
“You’re late.” That tone alone told Oscar that Hattie was definitely going to heckle him for the rest of his life— probably a month if we’re being honest — and that his mom was definitely going to find out that he was forty minutes late.
So he could really give two shits about how he responded, he was in deep shit anyway, “Yeah, I know, Hattie. I’m here now.”
“Mum is going to kill you,” adds Mae as he grabs her hand to cross the street.
“Well, if that’s the case, then that means Hattie is in charge now.”
Edie and Mae start to cry in complaints and scheme on how to defend Oscar from his death sentence.
***
As the Piastri siblings hop off the bus and begin the short trek home, their conversation shifts from the tardy firstborn to how their first day of school went. Oscar lets the younger ones go first because he knows they have the most to say, and they might be able to delay his retelling of how he has become the biggest loser in the family. God himself must have smiled a little too late upon Oscar’s day, because by the time it’s his turn to talk about his day, they arrive at the door if their apartment complex, except there was a familiar head of hair banging her head against the door mumbling repeatedly to herself that she’s an idiot and that her mom is going to kill her.
Oscar is nothing if not an opportunist, “Not if you kill yourself first.”
MJ quickly whips her around and looks surprised at the sight of Oscar Piastri, not to mention the very real gaggle of Piastri girls surrounding him as well.
“I-”
“So why is your mom going to kill you?” Oscar attributed his sass and confidence in the moment to the fact that he was surrounded by the people who sass him the most; said sass masters were watching the interaction go down with very observant eyes.
She takes a second to breathe in before looking at him, “I forgot to put the building key on my set, and no one is home to buzz me in. Like, the super isn’t even in right now.”
“That sucks,” Oscar says as he fishes out his keys.
“Well, what about you? What’re you doing here?”
He moves toward her, the closing distance forcing her to back away from the door. He places the key inside and twists it with ease to unlock the door, “I’m going home after having picked up my sisters.”
He holds the door open, and the girls go through. MJ is still frozen in her place as the girls begin to walk up the stairs. “Well?” Oscar began, “Are you going to wait for the super or are you gonna come in?”
MJ quickly walks in and looks back at Oscar walking in after her. She extends her arm, “You first.”
“I thought ladies first?” He joked.
“I’m wearing a skirt.”
“Oh. Right. I didn’t mean—”
“I know— I figured—”
“Yeah, sorry.”
“No worries.”
“Okay.”
The Piastri sisters couldn't help but watch the mess their brother had gotten himself into from the floor above. As Oscar made his way up the stairs, he made faces at his sisters in the vain of shut up and don’t say anything stupid. While he tried to control the potential chaos in front of him, MJ noticed they kept walking as much as she did.
“Oscar, what floor do you live on?”
“Fifth. Unit 5.” He adds, “You?”
“Fifth. Unit 1.”
Oscar stops in his tracks, coincidentally, on the fifth floor. His sisters are already ahead of him, walking to their door, “Well, nice to meet you, neighbor.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” she says as she stops in front of her door, the big 1 on it behind her, while she fetches her key from her wrist lanyard. “See you tomorrow? Well, if your mom doesn’t kill you.”
“Yeah, if my mum doesn’t kill me.”
“Okay...” She opens her mouth to say something else, but instead she opens her door and disappears inside. He stays in place for three seconds before Hattie yells down the hallway to let them in.
Oscar runs over and opens the door slowly, mentally preparing for his mom’s disappointment, and lets the girls in. Edie lingers at his side a bit, “She’s pretty.”
THREE
Oscar was never late again for two years, since that first day at Tribeca Tech. No matter how many times Flash pushed him into a locker, the late nights he and MJ spent in each other's living rooms studying for a test they were going to ace, regardless, or even Hattie taking forever in the only bathroom in the unit. Yet today, he was experiencing the most vivid déjà vu known to man.
He slept through his alarm. His mom was at work, Mae spilled yogurt on him and he had to change shirts, all while navigating the malevolence of the MTA.
All while MJ stood in front of the school, phone in hand, waiting for her best friend, “Where are you?”
Oscar, now sixteen, runs through the Times Square Station with his phone up to his ear, “I’m on my way, I swear—”
“Oscar, I can only stall for so long. The buses are gonna leave—”
“I’ll meet you at Horner Corp, then. I’ll just take a different train, I’m at Times Square—”
MJ lets out an exasperated sigh, “Who am I gonna sit with?”
Oscar comes to a screeching halt, “MJ, are you really asking me about a bus seating chart right now?”
“Yes!”
“Sit with Logan or Gwen!” He offers.
“I can’t. Gwen is sitting with Peter, and Logan lives by Horner Corp, so he decided to walk.”
Oscar pinches his nose, “MJ, you’re literally the most popular girl in school aside from Gwen and Liz; everyone wants to sit next to you.”
“But I don’t want to sit next to just anyone...” She breathes. For the two years he’d known MJ, Oscar had never known her to panic over small details; in fact, it was quite the opposite - she was the problem solver for small details.
“MJ, is everything okay?”
She exhales into the phone receiver, creating a crunchy noise on Oscar’s end, “I just have a weird feeling about today.”
“Like, Meatloaf Monday weird,” He gauged, “or like seeing-Mark-Webber-drop-a-hot-dog-onto-the-floor-and-trying-to-pick-it-up-to-throw-it-in-the-trash-but-he’s-in-his-Iron-Man-suit-so-he-can't-really-bend-down-and-pick-it-up-without-looking-clunky weird?”
MJ quirked her eyebrow, “Osc, that’s very specific.”
“Central Park can be a lawless place sometimes,” He countered. “Anyway, get on the bus. I’ll see you there. I promise.”
“Swear on the Q line?”
Oscar lets out a long breath, “That’s invoking higher powers we have no control over.”
“Swear on it, Piastri.”
“I’m so going to regret this,” he spins in a small circle, trying to rationalize his next words, “okay, I swear on the Q.”
“Okey dokey!” MJ chirps, “See you soon!”
***
Maybe swearing on the Q line was a good omen for Oscar.
He arrived at Horner Corp ten minutes before everyone else, and he even got himself a hot chocolate from the cart on the corner of the street. He waited on the steps of the laboratory as the buses rolled up and started to unload teenagers in their school uniforms. Then, from the third bus down the row, he saw them. Gwen was animatedly talking to Liz, while MJ had a quieter conversation with Peter.
Peter Parker. The same Peter Parker that he has been academically competing against. Flash calls them the Battle of the Brains, points for alliteration, I guess. But also the same Peter Parker that blushes whenever MJ is mentioned. The same Peter Parker who lives in the same building as MJ and him, and who has a very lovely Uncle and Aunt who, unfortunately, are pushing the MJ and Peter agenda. But Oscar could not care less, there is nothing he could care less about in fact! It’s why he doesn’t care that his heart has forgotten to beat in a lub-dub manner when MJ spots him from far away, or when she begins to smile brightly and wave her arm erratically, or when she turns to Peter to dismiss herself and run-skip over to Oscar. He definitely does not smile when he sees Peter looking dejected.
She skids to a stop in front of him and holds out her hands like a fish, and he returns the gesture, initiating their secret handshake that Hattie made them create. At first, they did it to appease Hattie, but now it was an unironic, friendly greeting, and most definitely not a scheme by Hattie Piastri herself to let her brother have an excuse to touch his best friend’s hands.
“G’day mate.”
Oscar groans and offers his cup to the girl, “You know you can ask for a sip of my hot chocolate like a normal person, right?”
MJ takes off the lid and smells the warmth of the chocolate wafting into the cool early October air, “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”
Oscar simply smiles at her as she takes a swig of his drink. He tries not to get too lost in his thoughts when he feels a stinging clap on his back, “Piastri! It’s unfortunate you made it, I thought I’d have MJ all to myself today.”
Before Oscar can speak up, MJ opens her mouth to reveal her most monotonous voice, “Flash, careful with your next words, I have a steaming cup of hot chocolate in my hands that I would hate to go to waste.”
Flash laughs and walks off, “I’ll impress you one day, MJ.”
“Doubt it, buddy!”
Just as MJ is reaching for another sip, Oscar swoops in and takes his cup back and takes a drink, “Hey! I was gonna take another sip!”
“You don’t get to put my drink in a hostage situation and bluff about her life.”
MJ raises an eyebrow and smirks, “Oh, so it’s a her, now?”
“Do not start with me, MJ.”
“Or what, Piastri?” She challenged.
Oscar narrowed his eyes, scanning his brain for a punishment befitting of threatening the livelihood of his beloved drink and for teasing the use of pronouns for said drink. Finally, he comes up with a sentence worthy enough to make her jokingly back off, “I’ll remind everyone what MJ actually stands for.”
“You wouldn’t!” MJ gasps.
Oscar simply states, “Don’t test me,” as he takes another sip of his hot chocolate.
“You are an evil, evil man, Oscar Piastri.”
Oscar smirks, “only for you.”
MJ tips her head back and cackles. Oscar forces himself to look away before someone notices the way he looks at her, as if she were the only option ever.
“Alright, everyone, gather around!” Miss Strauss, soon to be Mrs. Balotelli, waved everyone over to her while she stood on a higher step, “We have been asked— Richard, pay attention please— We have been asked to place you all into smaller groups to facilitate tours for today. Please be on your best behavior, Horner Corp only opens all their doors to the general public once a year, and it is a great opportunity to be near scientists and ask them questions, and maybe even network!”
MJ groaned under her breath, and Oscar exhaled a single laugh.
“Okay!” Miss Strauss clapped, “Arrange yourselves in groups of around five, please!”
MJ, Oscar, Gwen, and Logan naturally gravitated toward each other, the group of four having been solidified two years ago. It was the natural order of things, two boys, two girls, all best of friends with each other, no one else— “Hey, Peter!”
Oscar whips his head over to look at MJ, who paid him no mind and waved over the bumbling boy.
“Me?” he pointed to himself.
MJ joyfully stated, “Yeah, who else?” All while Oscar muttered it under his breath.
Peter walked over with a pep in his step, “You don’t have to, really—”
Oscar is about to agree when MJ cuts him off, “Well, it’s us or Flash, so take your pick...”
The group looked over at the blonde, who had gone through a massive growth spurt during the summer break, the kind that made nerds like Peter terrified. “Good point,” Peter countered.
As much as Oscar didn’t want Parker in the group, he wasn’t a monster. After all, Flash is a common obstacle that they have both had to navigate for the past couple of years.
***
The inside of the Horner Corp lobby was clean and precise. Flooded with adults walking with purpose to areas behind a door activated with a key card. Oscar’s observations are cut short when he hears the playing of a tape recorder next to him, “October fourth, Twenty-Seventeen. Horner Corp lobby, it’s clean and sterile, and I see a door I want to go behind.”
Oscar reaches over to pause the device, “If you’re going to commit a crime, maybe don't record yourself to provide evidence?”
“That’s only if I get caught,” MJ rationalizes, “Besides, Horner Corp has been said to engage in shady biomechanic business—”
“Allegedly,” Oscar cuts off, “you need to get off of Reddit.”
“This source wasn’t off of Reddit, Oscar,” She lowers her voice, “I met with an NYU intern who got fired from a research project with Doctor Connor. She said that in the end, almost everyone was dismissed from the project. Those who weren’t have gone MIA.”
“I don’t know MJ...” Oscar was never one to try and get into trouble, but he wasn’t exactly a saint, especially when it was a scheme MJ was involved in, “I don’t wanna get kicked out and have Principal Wolff up our asses.”
“I’ll go with you,” Peter piped up.
MJ grinned, “Seriously?”
“Yeah, why not?” Peter shoved his hands in his pockets. “What’s the worst that can happen?”
“Expulsion, a permanent ban from this building, a lecture from Miss Strauss about burning professional bridges? In that order,” Oscar reasoned, “Besides, MJ, didn't you say you had a bad feeling about today?”
MJ chewed the inside of her cheek and crossed her arms, “Yeah, but... I’m curious. Aren’t you, Oscar?”
Oscar walked over to the nearest trash can to toss his cup, “Curiosity killed the cat, MJ.”
Peter took a step closer to MJ, “But satisfaction brought it back...”
MJ flashed a grin at Peter once again before turning her sights on Oscar. “See, Osc? Someone is in the sleuthing spirit!”
MJ turned to the blondes and told them they would be right back!
So between the inquisitive nature of his best friend and her newfound affinity for the curious boy next to her, Oscar had no choice but to accompany them, and that is how they ended up behind the door. A feat in and of itself, how three teenagers managed to get past armored security or steal a key card from an unsuspecting scientist was beyond even their own comprehension, but once past the door, they got to business. MJ, per usual, was leading the charge.
“How do you know where you’re going?” Peter asked.
MJ kept her eyes on the ceiling as she navigated through the corridors, “I’ve spent the past month studying the floor plans of this building—”
Oscar pulled MJ by her waist and Peter by his collar into a dark corner. Just as MJ was about to open her mouth and argue, Oscar clamped his hand over her mouth. A beat later, a guard walked right past where they had previously stood. Once the coast was clear, Oscar removed his hand from her mouth. “That was close.”
“Too close,” Peter added, “maybe we should just head back.”
“Are you crazy?” MJ’s hands flailed about as she took a good look at Peter, “We are so close to finding something, anything...Don’t tell me you’re sacred now, Peter.”
Peter looks over at Oscar and pleads, “Dude, you gotta convince her this is crazy.”
Oscar crosses his arms and leans against the wall, “I told you it was a bad idea from the start, and I don’t half ass schemes. You in or not?”
Peter felt betrayed in that moment; the one person he expected to be reasonable this whole time was going along with the crazy antics of the most popular girl in school. He’s also her best friend, he narrated to himself.
“Fine.”
“Perfect,” She said, her smile almost stretching as big as the Cheshire Cat. As soon as MJ finished her words, a hissing noise came from their right. Once again, they took their hiding spots, peering over the wall as much as they could, only to see Christian Horner himself and Doctor Curtis Connor walking out and down the hallway. As soon as they disappeared, MJ sprinted towards the closing doors, with Oscar and Peter hot on her heels. Peter barely made it in as MJ grabbed his collar and pulled him, the momentum causing him to stumble over her a bit and crash into the glass behind them. A shifting sound took place, but slipped past the ears of the teenagers.
“Sorry.”
MJ straightened herself up and swiped imaginary dust off herself, “Don’t sweat it.”
Oscar looked around the dark room; only the soft lighting from the shelving illuminated the space, barely. Oscar noticed several glass cases with big red Xs over their plaques. He felt the wall until he reached a light switch. The sight they were met with rendered the inquisitive bunch speechless.
Images of spiders. Everywhere. And suddenly, a very real and very big one was crawling on Peter’s neck.
“Peter...”
Peter stiffened at MJ’s tone, “Yeah?”
“Don’t move, mate.” Oscar cautiously held his hand out and let the spider walk onto his palm, “gotcha.”
Peter was sweating, “Holy shit. Thanks, man— How are you doing that?”
“Doing what?” Oscar asked. His hands occasionally overlapped, creating a never-ending walkway for the spider in his hands. Peter pointed at his hands in shock, disgust, and awe.
“I’m from Australia,” He said, his full focus on the spider now. Oscar noticed how it didn’t exactly look like any spider he had seen before. It was bulbous, with a blue chrome-shifting body and a bold red stripe running down its back. “These guys tend to be small, so when they get startled, they look for something bigger to protect them.”
“It’s freaky.”
“It’s nature, Peter. Wouldn't you want someone to defend you when you can’t defend yourself?”
Oscar’s counter had Peter crossing his arms and MJ looking away.
It was silent for another minute, Oscar playing with the spider in his hands, Peter looking anywhere but at the arachnid, and MJ trying to make sense of the crossed-out plaques, until her watch went off: “shit, we have to meet in the front lobby in five minutes for the scientists' panel.”
“You guys, go ahead,” Oscar, still entranced with the spider in his hands, “I’m gonna see where I can safely put this guy back.”
MJ fidgeted with her recorder in her hand, a newer habit she had accumulated. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, go ahead, just make sure you don’t get caught.”
Peter grabs MJ’s hand and leads her out, a gesture not lost on Oscar, “Okay, we’ll see you outside.”
MJ and Peter disappear behind the sliding door, and Oscar turns back around to place the spider back down. He leans over what he assumes to be its broken enclosure, the same one MJ had bumped into, courtesy of Peter, just a couple of minutes ago. As he leans his hand inside to let the spider walk off, he notices an alarming number of huge spools of silk sitting in the case. He quickly retracts his hand with the spider back to himself, “They oughta clean your space, mate.”
With his free hand, he moves as many silk casings as he can; the spider, seeming to enjoy the view, leans over as well. It’s when Oscar realizes the casings are too big to be flies, and he straightens his posture and looks around at the other cases. empty cases.
“Hey, man, you didn't— you didnt eat those other spiders, did you?” The eight-legged creature simply stared back at him, almost daring the accusation to go further, “You know what, little buddy, how about you just go back to your home, yeah?”
Oscar tried never to panic, but when he had a huge spider in his hand that had eaten the rest of its compatriots, simply being from Australia wasn't enough to keep the worry from washing over him. But the spider wasn’t walking off his hand; it wasn’t even moving. Oscar started shaking his hand over the enclosure, a last-ditch effort to get the thing back home, “C’mon, man. Go home.”
He shook harder, and that’s when he felt it. All of it. searing pain in the palm of his hand, hot and white and furious. He crouched to his knees, holding his hand to his chest for what felt like hours. With sweat dripping from his brow, dry heaving, and struggling to breathe, Oscar picks himself up and notices the once big spider in his palm was still latching on, but it looked drained and shriveled. Surrounding the bite mark? a chrome shifting bruise. He rips the spider off with little to no effort, the small animal practically turning to dust in his fingers. He pants before quickly exiting and navigating his way out of the lab and back to the panel being held in the conference hall on the first floor.
In his heavy and disoriented state, he accidentally slams the door open, where hundreds of his peers, upperclassmen and underclassmen alike, Dr Curtis Conner, Christian Horner, and Principal Wolff all immediately direct their looks at him. He straightens himself up and tries to walk as calmly as possible to the empty seat in front of MJ. She removes her jacket so he can take a seat, and everyone directs their eyes back to the front, where Horner and Connor are talking about some protein-strengthening breakthrough brought by a spider’s web.
MJ leaned over the stressed boy’s shoulder and whispered, “You’re late! Where were you?”
Oscar turns his hand to explain when he realizes there is no bruise, no scar from the bite, and there isn’t even a tenderness where he thought the bite might have been, “Um, bathroom issues.”
“Sorry to hear that, man,” Peter whispers. Oscar whips his head to see him sitting next to MJ. Oscar turns back around and groans as he sinks into his seat.
FOUR
Oscar was a punctual boy. At least, he had been back in Melbourne. But this was New York City. Here, the claws of tardiness didn’t discriminate between sinners and saints. Unfortunately, they grabbed Oscar tightly on his last day at Tribeca Tech.
Yet this wasn’t the fault of sleeping through an alarm or his youngest sister spilling yogurt on his school uniform, but the attempted robbery of a bank on the Upper East Side. Oscar was halfway into his graduation gown when the radio scanner went off in his ear buds, “Shit.” He took a quick look at his watch before rationalizing that yes, he should have enough time to stop said robbery and make it to graduation on time.
Oscar grabs his backpack in a rush and heads out the door, but not before Nicole stops him, “And where are you going in such a rush?”
Oscar stops in his tracks, “To, uh, MJ’s”
“I thought MJ said she was leaving early to help with last-minute setup,” Oscar had never wanted more than to sling a web at Hattie’s mouth than in this moment.
“Yes! Exactly, that is what I am going to go do. I am going to go... help.” He said as he made sure his mask was in his backpack. Hattie narrowed her eyes but dropped the subject.
“Okay, I guess we’ll see you there then?” added Nicole.
Oscar walked over and kissed his mom’s forehead, “Yeah, mum. I’ll see you there.”
“Please don’t be late, Osc,” She pleaded.
Oscar let out a nonchalant laugh, “I won’t. I promise.”
As soon as the door slammed behind him, Edie swallowed her last spoonful of cereal, “Liar.”
***
Now, granted, it wasn’t easy being Spider-Man. But swinging through the streets of New York City was definitely therapeutic for the young hero. A swing cut short due to how fast he was swinging, the crew would kill him if he was late for graduation, and MJ herself would skin him slowly. When he approached the bank, he flipped and webbed Captain Stacey and his squad to their cars.
Oscar’s perfectly practiced American accent slipped out of his mouth like honey, “Mornin’ Captain Stacey, fine day to be stoppin’ crime, isn’t it?”
All he heard was the loud shout of his girlfriend’s dad. A small twinge of hurt settled in his chest before being replaced by the fact that he knows Captain Stacey loves Oscar Piastri, and that was enough for him.
Inside the bank, five men in ski masks held civilians at gunpoint with burlap sacks in their hands. “What, did you guys get your outfit inspiration from a Batman comic?”
The men turned to face Oscar, “Spider-Man!”
“Robbers! Now that we’ve all introduced ourselves, can we wrap this up? I got places to be—”
Shots were fired at Oscar, who leaped out of the way and stuck himself to the ceiling and crawled toward an uncovered exit, opening it and silently guiding the hostages out. “I thought we were friends!”
“No friends! Only enemies,” yells one of the men.
Oscar drops his voice, “If you say so...”
Outside, backup for the NYPD had arrived and started working on releasing Captain Stacey’s crew from their cars, “Quickly, we gotta get these guys, and I gotta be on time for my daughter's graduation!”
“We’re trying, sir!”
“Well, try harder!”
Oscar had taken three of the five men down and wrapped them in webs, then snuck up behind the remaining two and slowly lowered himself behind them.
“Where is he?” one whispered. As Oscar was about to open his mouth to come out with a smart response, his phone rang in his pocket. Both remaining assailants turned and started to shoot at him as he quickly pulled himself out of harm's way and answered his phone, “Hey!”
MJ paced the steps outside the graduation hall, “Oscar, where the hell are you?”
“I’m most definitely,” he said, dodging a bullet, “on my way over!”
“Oscar, was that a gunshot?”
Oscar had had enough of the thieves wasting time and slung two webs and used his body to knock them out cold, “No. I’m by some tracks.”
“Well, hurry up. I can only distract Gwen for so long before she starts worrying.”
He sighs and walks away from the mess towards the front door when he sees half of the NYPD making their way over. Oscar runs towards the back exit, where all the hostages were being helped by EMTs, and slings away, picking up his backpack with a flick to the ledge of nearby scaffolding. a chorus of Thank you, Spider-Man ringing in the air.
Oscar never ran a marathon on purpose, but if he ever did, he’d imagine that the swing from the Upper East Side into Tribeca in under thirty minutes was the same type of exhaustion he’d feel. Lowering himself into an alley and changing in record time, he ran into the hall just as students were walking in formation to Pomp and Circumstance. He took his place in front of MJ and looked back to shoot a wink at Gwen, who giggled next to Logan.
“You’re late,” MJ quietly announced.
Oscar looked back and walked backwards to address her, “Am I though?”
MJ rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, “Where were you anyway, Piastri?”
“On the tracks,” He offered.
MJ scrunched her nose as he turned back around, “Swear on the Q?”
Oscar accidentally dropped the smile from his face before shaking his head to reset, “I swear on it.”
THE ONE TIME HE WASN'T
The crown of the Statue of Liberty was usually a beautiful sight, especially during the summer when sunsets bled a deep orange, casting a golden glow over the city. MJ wishes she could enjoy the view under better circumstances, instead of being held hostage by the Red Bull.
He was hoisting her by the back of her clothes, twenty feet above the crown. She was trying hard not to flail so that she wouldn’t slip from the grasp of one of Spider-Man’s villains. But she didn’t hold out any hope for the red and blue as she felt herself slipping from Red Bull’s grasp.
Just as she was about to lose all faith, a voice from behind Red Bull spoke up, “Put her down, Red.”
MJ wanted to smile; her savior radiated warmth with his presence, literally. Lando Norris, the Human Torch, was hovering behind the Red Bull, his arms out and ready to catch the 24-year-old woman.
“Where is Spider-Man?” Red Bull hissed.
“He’s late,” Lando pointed out, like it was a normal occurrence, “You got me instead, mate.”
“No Spider-Man, no deal.”
As soon as the last syllable left the flying bull’s mouth, he released MJ.
Lando tried going after her, but he was rammed in the chest and dragged away by Red Bull’s hoverboard. All Lando could do was yell with his arms reaching out to a woman who was quickly about to become acquainted with the pedestal of the Lady Liberty.
MJ sobbed and started screaming on her way down, arms and legs grasping at the air around, praying that somehow this could become a dream, that maybe she would wake up in the Piastri’s living room. It was Sunday, maybe Nicole would make her favorite for dinner. She dreams about what would have been if she had admitted to Oscar about how she felt, instead of letting her fear of the future get in the way, if she had just told Gwen that yes, she did like Oscar a lot, then maybe she would die with absolutely no regrets instead of one.
But maybe when she reached the ground, she would see Gwen, in the place where kind people go after they die. She would tell her the truth and promise to be a better friend. She closed her eyes and accepted the end. She could only hope she got to that special place.
The concrete was soft, and falling felt sideways, and... swing-like?
MJ opened her eyes to meet the white lenses of her savior, “Spider-Man,” she choked.
“That’s me,” He sighed in relief, tears threatening to spill.
“The Torch said you were going to be late,” She sobbed as he softly landed on the pedestal and placed her on her feet.
“Yeah. I’m sorry.”
She pulled him into a crushing hug, “You’re here.”
Oscar took MJ into his arms and held her for a few more moments before reluctantly peeling away, “I gotta help Lando, but I’ll be back. Stay hidden, MJ.”
Oscar swung away, and MJ stood dumbfounded, “How does he know my name?”
***
For the second time that night, Spider-Man softly placed MJ down on the pavement. This time, in front of her apartment complex, a block away from where she grew up running around with Oscar and his sisters. Lando was not far behind, extinguishing his flame as he stepped up next to the hero.
“Do you need help walking inside?”
“No, thank you,” MJ said, shoving her hands in her pockets. “I think I just need to be with myself for a bit.”
Lando and Oscar shared a look before the latter spoke up, “Please don’t hesitate to ask for help if it gets to be too much.”
“Okay...”
MJ stayed quiet, but she didn’t move a single inch. Her fingers twitched with adrenaline, and the fact that she almost became a headline for the Daily Bugle. Lando shifted his foot when she spoke up, “My best friend... Gwen Stacey.”
Oscar stiffened, “What about her?”
“She died. The same way I almost did tonight,” she took a deep breath before continuing, “and you caught her. But it was too late. Do you remember that?”
How could he? He held Gwen in his arms for hours until Logan and Peter found him hunched over, all while MJ watched from the top of the tower. All because Oscar prioritized MJ’s safety before his own girlfriend's, “yes.”
MJ walked up to Oscar and held his masked face in her hands, “I think she’d feel happy that you could do for someone else what you couldn't do for her.” And with that final sentence, she kissed his cheek before moving on and doing the same for Lando, “Thank you.”
MJ disappeared into her building, and all Oscar could do was stand still. Lando softly clapped a hand on his shoulder, “Go home, Oscar,” he whispered, “You’ve earned it.”
I have thoughts. so many. but I'll keep it short. oh my god the cameos are perfect and the characterization is just effortlessly good. as someone who is used to second pronoun work, i alwasy get thrown off by 'she', but this worked so well. your honour i LOVE THEM. also not the gwen death wait i actually wasn't ready i can't deal with this. i amsosososo excited for more you do not understand. i will forever indulge in some spidey osc!!! papa me want more movie.. so beautifully done and a true pleasure to read.
via omg i want all the thoughts hand em over djzjsjs but seriously thank you so much you and el are now literally at fault —in the best way possible— for more to come.
one of many installments in my Friendly Neighborhood Aussie series!
PAIRING: spidey!oscar piastri x mj!reader
WORDS: 8.1 K
CONTENT: mentions of death, vivid descriptions of pain, the horrible mixing of different kinds of spider-man cannons and my imagination to create my perfect spidey world for oscar, and refusing to proof read because it is my armageddon and i will be dying on this hill
AUTHOR'S NOTE: yeah, idk lmaooo. we needed more spidey!osc and unfortunately for me and fortunately for you I have a problem where i need to write incessantly and fill the void. on the other hand i didn't add too much f1 into the universe, simply because i couldn't be bothered. also a big thanks to via and el, two people on this godforsaken site who also love to indulge in some spidey!osc.
ONE
Oscar was a punctual boy. At least, he had been back in Melbourne. But this was New York City. Here, the claws of tardiness didn’t discriminate between sinners and saints. Unfortunately, they grabbed Oscar tightly on his first day officially attending Tribeca Tech.
A myriad of incidents happened between 5:45 AM and 7 AM:
The poor boy slept through his alarm. In his defense, he spent the night before catching up on work assigned during the summer. But moving with his family halfway across the world and acting as an impromptu babysitter for his mom, who worked overtime to secure their small, two-bedroom, rent-controlled apartment in Spanish Harlem, left him little time for anything else. There was hardly any chance to get work done before his first day of school. Hattie had to launch a pillow at his face to wake him up.
His mom left early for her new job at Webber Industries. The night before, she said she wanted to make a good impression. She then reminded Oscar he’d need to help his sisters get ready, make breakfast, and drop them off and pick them up from school. Oscar just gave a non-committal 'mhm' and waved his hand in acknowledgment. In reality, all he wanted was to curse out Isaac Newton for discovering calculus. Somewhere between the string of curses and burning the midnight oil on the living room floor, he forgot the task entirely.
Mae accidentally spilled her yogurt on Oscar’s uniform. 'Sorry, Osc,' she said. 'Don’t worry about it, Mae.' He had to rummage through their tightly packed closet, which held all his and his sister’s belongings, to find a spare shirt. It took him fifteen minutes to find the embroidered dress shirt. By the time he buttoned it, the crisp lines were obvious, and it was too late to take it off and iron it.
As he rushed all the girls out and down the hall to the stairs, two men appeared with what looked like the world’s largest couch. After a minute of searching for a way through, he sent the girls through the small space between the men’s legs. He threw his backpack to his sisters on the other side. Then he sucked in his stomach as much as he could to let the behemoth couch and its carriers pass.
He almost ate pavement on his way to catching the bus to take his sisters to their school. Edie could only look at him and say, “I think you need to tie your shoelaces.”
Morning traffic in the city for everyone commuting anywhere below 92nd Street in Manhattan. Oscar thought it would be easier to avoid once he dropped his sisters off and went underground. It was on this day that he made the mental note to never again underestimate the chaos of the city on a Monday morning.
After dropping the girls off, he made his way to the nearest train station. The goddamn Q going downtown. The delays on the track and the usual evil spirit of the MTA having it out for everyone has consumed his soul, including: the confusing transfer at Times Square and 42nd, the occasional mutter to himself that he should have run the route a day or two earlier, and almost taking the uptown train instead of the downtown one. The pushing of bodies around him, people who didn’t care because they also had somewhere to be, the full glory of the New York City experience almost became too much for the young boy until his eyes landed on the building with big Times New Roman lettering reading: TRIBECA TECH.
He ran up the steps and pushed the doors open with all the momentum from his sprint, and then made a beeline for the main office, accidentally knocking a girl down in the process. Without even glancing back, he simply shouted, “Sorry!” and kept making his way over.
When he made his way to the front desk, he slammed his hands down and panted, “Piastri!”
The middle-aged woman with slicked-back hair and a bejeweled apple brooch on her blazer simply stated, “You’re late.”
“Yes, I know, but-”
“Piastri?” She interrupted.
“Mhm. From Aust-”
“New kid?”
“Yeah,” he exhaled, trying to get his heart rate back to normal.
“You missed your escort,” she commented, “She was just in here.”
“And, I’m so sorry about that...” his eyes darted around her workspace and landed on a plaque that read- “Missus Anderson.”
“It’s the first day-”
Oscar was starting to lose his patience, “Yeah-”
“You can’t be making a habit of this-”
“Heard,” he answered with finality, but Mrs. Anderson didn’t pick up on it.
“Is this going to be an everyday thing— what did you say your name was again?” She asked as she reached for a tardy slip.
“Piastri.”
“That’s a... name, alright,” she wearily mentioned as she wrote Piastri on the tardy slip.
“Well, it’s Oscar actually-”
She quickly yanks back the slip before he can fully grasp it, “Well, why didn't you say that?”
Oscar threw his arms up in exasperation and opened his mouth to answer when the principal came out of his office, in tow was a blond with a bolt buzzed into the side of his hair, and his gaze cast down, “It’s the first day of school, Flash. Please, let’s not have a repeat of the eighth grade.”
Oscar chose the wrong moment to be quiet and observant because when the boy looked up, he simply sneered, “What are you looking at?”
The poor Aussie opened his mouth, but no response came out, leaving him looking like a goldfish in the presence of sharks. Flash grinned, “They let just about anyone in this school now.”
Flash walked out of the office and back to what Oscar assumed was his first class of the day, when he felt a clasp on his shoulder and turned around to the tall principal, “Oscar Piastri? With the Senna Foundation, correct?”
If anyone asked Oscar in that very moment, or even in the future, if he was going to shit himself standing next to a man who had about a whole foot on his height, he would say no, that he absolutely kept it together. It was one of the few things in life he would lie about.
Oscar nodded, “Yes, sir.”
“I’m Principal Wolff,” he began, “and you’re late.”
Oscar groaned.
***
“Miss Strauss, this is Oscar Piastri.”
All Oscar wanted in that very moment was for the earth to swallow him whole and spit him back out in Melbourne, where all his old friends were, where everything was comfortable, and where he didn’t feel like a complete outsider—
“No way,” oh, he really wanted out now. Was this New York magic working its worst on him? Was this his initiation to truly becoming a city kid? It had to be right? because there was no way Flash Thompson was sitting in the back right corner with a smug grin, chewing on the end of his pen like it was Oscar’s hopes and dreams.
“Oh! Oscar, you’re from th-” Miss Strauss was swiftly cut off by Principal Wolff.
“From Australia. He travelled a long way to be here. Please give him a warm welcome to Tribeca Tech and New York City.”
Miss Strauss immediately understood the tone and adjusted her posture, “Right! Yes! Welcome, Oscar. You can take the empty seat next to— Has anyone seen MJ?”
Toto speaks up, “She’s-”
“Right here,” responded a voice from behind the tall man, and the whole class, including Miss Strauss, yelped.
A girl, who looks vaguely familiar to Oscar, stands in the doorway with an icepack in her hands.
“MJ,” Strauss begins, “where have you been?”
“New kid was late and I was walking back to class when I got steamrolled...” She trails as she and everyone else's eyes slowly land on Oscar.
He grimaced, “Sorry. I was late.”
TWO
His first day at Tribeca Tech was nothing short of horrible. Come to find out, almost no one had done the agonizing math homework he spent the night before trying to complete. Then, he forgot his lunch money on the counter at home, so he went most of the half hour without eating until one of the lunch ladies felt bad and snuck him an apple. Last but not least, Flash had picked him out of the crowd and practically signed his social life’s death certificate, set to expire until they graduated, maybe even after that. The worst part of it all? It all happened in front of the girl he knocked over and her friends. MJ simply watched on, with what he learned from other classmates was her signature RBF.
They quickly defended her character, saying that she was a truly kind girl and extremely intelligent. She just didn’t really waste her facial expressions on people who weren’t Gwen Stacey or Logan Sargeant. So when the final bell of the day rang, and he tried to apologize, she had already made her way out of their physics class and was sandwiched between the two blondes.
Oscar, feeling that this was going to be the next four years at T-Tech, slumped to the subway station in resignation. He purposefully counted the grates on the street so that he didn’t have to go home and recount to his mom and sisters how horrible—
His sisters. He forgot he had to pick up his sisters. His mom was going to kill him. And for the nth time that day, he was chasing after public transportation.
He could see the train pulling up, but his student MTA card was sitting at the bottom of his book bag, and with his supercomputer brain and the flickering train arrival announcement board overhead, the next train wouldn't come for another thirty minutes, which would make him forty minutes late to pick up his sisters. So he did what he saw another kid doing at Times Square Station, and he attempted to jump the turnstile. Attempted. His gangly, early teenage limbs got caught, and he ate pavement. Again. As the train pulled away.
“Mum’s going to kill me,” he muttered to himself, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.
“Not if you kill yourself first.”
Oscar’s eyes opened in surprise to see a pair of black Chucks with frilly socks, attached to them the infamous RBF of the one and only MJ.
“You should get up off the floor,” She said, “This is New York, someone has definitely pissed or taken a crap there.”
Oscar scrambled to get up to his feet and dusted himself off before holding them out in disgust. MJ pulled her bag off her shoulder and reached into the smallest pocket, pulling out a clear bottle. “Hands, please.”
He cautiously offered his hands out to her. Two pumps on his hands and two for her. They rub their hands and disperse the alcohol in their own hands, silently. A scent catches Oscar’s senses as he lifts his hands up to his nose, “Mm, smells like watermelon.”
MJ’s eyes pierce him as she flatly responds, “It’s the best scent. Besides cucumber.”
Oscar just nods in agreement. He never cared about the importance of scents, but if one of the smartest girls at school says it is, it must be right.
“So why is your mum gonna kill you?” She asks, highlighting his accent.
Oscar scrunches his nose, “I was supposed to pick up my sisters from school today, but I don’t know if you can tell, but I didn’t exactly have the best first day of school today-”
“And that was going to make you late because...?”
Oscar chewed on the inside of his cheek to contemplate whether he should tell the girl he had knocked over on his first few seconds on campus the truth; she could turn around and tell Flash the ins and outs of their less-than-intimate subway station conversation... “I wanted to take my time and wallow on the way home while listening to sad house music and reflect on my day.”
Her infamous stoic face dropped as she raised her eyebrow in concern, “sad... house music?”
Oscar scrunches his nose and cocks his head back in offense, “I just told you I was going to be sad on my way home, and all you latch onto is sad house music?”
She lets out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh, “I’m sorry, it’s just— sad house music? Really?”
Oscar rolls his eyes and walks over to the platform, a second pair of footsteps behind him.
“I’m sorry, really I am—”
The tired boy stops in his tracks and takes a breath. She sounds really sincere... “I know— I just—”
“You had a really long day, I get it. Been there.”
He turns to her and sees the slump in her shoulders before she quickly readjusts herself into a straighter posture. He straightens his own posture, not to challenge her, but to join her in whatever silent battle she had going on in her own day that warranted her to relate to him. They stayed like that for a bit until eventually the silence did get awkward in that early teen, I-just-met-you-at-school-we’re-not-cool-like-that, kind of way.
“So, uh, you going uptown?” He attempts.
“Mhm.”
“Cool.”
“Yep,” She pops.
Both young and stupid, they turn their bodies towards the platform in their silence and wait in it for twenty minutes until their train comes. They get in the same car and stand on opposite ends.
***
When he gets off to transfer, he notices she does as well. He notices how she seamlessly weaves between the bustle of people, how she minds their space as she minds her own. A practiced art, a mastered science, a way of life he has only come to complain about, coming to life in a girl who makes fun of sad house music. He isn’t intentionally following her, but it just happened that he needed to take the same train home. She did not get the unspoken memo, “Are you following me?”
“I— no—”
“Just because I offered hand sanitizer and said sorry doesn’t make us best friends, man.”
“No, I would never. I just—” how was he going to defend himself and tell her it was his way home? Maybe that way, Piastri, you certified idiot, “It’s just—”
“Just what, Piastri?” Her face was flushing with... embarrassment?
“This is my way home. Well, to pick up my sisters and then go home.” Oscar had to take deep breaths and hope she believed him.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s all good.”
She shook her head and waved her hands in apology, “No, it’s not. I almost yelled at you in public and called you a creep—”
“What?!”
“But I didn’t!” She smiled. She actually smiled at him; she’s finding this funny. Oscar realized he liked the way she smiled; it was crooked, and the left side of her upper lip curled up further than the right, and—
“Nope. You did not. Thank you.”
He must’ve been staring at her smile too long before she dropped her face, but not back into the RBF she was known for, but into a face that was soft and attentive, “You’re welcome.”
The usual evil spirit of the MTA decided in that moment to write these teens into their soot-covered stars and granted the timely arrival of an uptown Q train. When they walked on, they decided to stand on the same side; not exactly next to each other, but a little over arm's reach away.
As the stops went by, the car became empty, so when Oscar’s stop arrived, he dreaded getting off and leaving her alone. But he had three little sisters to pick up, and he was already horrifically late. As he stepped out of the car, he looked back and saw her take a deep breath; the doors of the car closed, and the train sped away, Oscar’s eyes following it until it disappeared into the dark tunnels.
***
“You’re late.” That tone alone told Oscar that Hattie was definitely going to heckle him for the rest of his life— probably a month if we’re being honest — and that his mom was definitely going to find out that he was forty minutes late.
So he could really give two shits about how he responded, he was in deep shit anyway, “Yeah, I know, Hattie. I’m here now.”
“Mum is going to kill you,” adds Mae as he grabs her hand to cross the street.
“Well, if that’s the case, then that means Hattie is in charge now.”
Edie and Mae start to cry in complaints and scheme on how to defend Oscar from his death sentence.
***
As the Piastri siblings hop off the bus and begin the short trek home, their conversation shifts from the tardy firstborn to how their first day of school went. Oscar lets the younger ones go first because he knows they have the most to say, and they might be able to delay his retelling of how he has become the biggest loser in the family. God himself must have smiled a little too late upon Oscar’s day, because by the time it’s his turn to talk about his day, they arrive at the door if their apartment complex, except there was a familiar head of hair banging her head against the door mumbling repeatedly to herself that she’s an idiot and that her mom is going to kill her.
Oscar is nothing if not an opportunist, “Not if you kill yourself first.”
MJ quickly whips her around and looks surprised at the sight of Oscar Piastri, not to mention the very real gaggle of Piastri girls surrounding him as well.
“I-”
“So why is your mom going to kill you?” Oscar attributed his sass and confidence in the moment to the fact that he was surrounded by the people who sass him the most; said sass masters were watching the interaction go down with very observant eyes.
She takes a second to breathe in before looking at him, “I forgot to put the building key on my set, and no one is home to buzz me in. Like, the super isn’t even in right now.”
“That sucks,” Oscar says as he fishes out his keys.
“Well, what about you? What’re you doing here?”
He moves toward her, the closing distance forcing her to back away from the door. He places the key inside and twists it with ease to unlock the door, “I’m going home after having picked up my sisters.”
He holds the door open, and the girls go through. MJ is still frozen in her place as the girls begin to walk up the stairs. “Well?” Oscar began, “Are you going to wait for the super or are you gonna come in?”
MJ quickly walks in and looks back at Oscar walking in after her. She extends her arm, “You first.”
“I thought ladies first?” He joked.
“I’m wearing a skirt.”
“Oh. Right. I didn’t mean—”
“I know— I figured—”
“Yeah, sorry.”
“No worries.”
“Okay.”
The Piastri sisters couldn't help but watch the mess their brother had gotten himself into from the floor above. As Oscar made his way up the stairs, he made faces at his sisters in the vain of shut up and don’t say anything stupid. While he tried to control the potential chaos in front of him, MJ noticed they kept walking as much as she did.
“Oscar, what floor do you live on?”
“Fifth. Unit 5.” He adds, “You?”
“Fifth. Unit 1.”
Oscar stops in his tracks, coincidentally, on the fifth floor. His sisters are already ahead of him, walking to their door, “Well, nice to meet you, neighbor.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” she says as she stops in front of her door, the big 1 on it behind her, while she fetches her key from her wrist lanyard. “See you tomorrow? Well, if your mom doesn’t kill you.”
“Yeah, if my mum doesn’t kill me.”
“Okay...” She opens her mouth to say something else, but instead she opens her door and disappears inside. He stays in place for three seconds before Hattie yells down the hallway to let them in.
Oscar runs over and opens the door slowly, mentally preparing for his mom’s disappointment, and lets the girls in. Edie lingers at his side a bit, “She’s pretty.”
THREE
Oscar was never late again for two years, since that first day at Tribeca Tech. No matter how many times Flash pushed him into a locker, the late nights he and MJ spent in each other's living rooms studying for a test they were going to ace, regardless, or even Hattie taking forever in the only bathroom in the unit. Yet today, he was experiencing the most vivid déjà vu known to man.
He slept through his alarm. His mom was at work, Mae spilled yogurt on him and he had to change shirts, all while navigating the malevolence of the MTA.
All while MJ stood in front of the school, phone in hand, waiting for her best friend, “Where are you?”
Oscar, now sixteen, runs through the Times Square Station with his phone up to his ear, “I’m on my way, I swear—”
“Oscar, I can only stall for so long. The buses are gonna leave—”
“I’ll meet you at Horner Corp, then. I’ll just take a different train, I’m at Times Square—”
MJ lets out an exasperated sigh, “Who am I gonna sit with?”
Oscar comes to a screeching halt, “MJ, are you really asking me about a bus seating chart right now?”
“Yes!”
“Sit with Logan or Gwen!” He offers.
“I can’t. Gwen is sitting with Peter, and Logan lives by Horner Corp, so he decided to walk.”
Oscar pinches his nose, “MJ, you’re literally the most popular girl in school aside from Gwen and Liz; everyone wants to sit next to you.”
“But I don’t want to sit next to just anyone...” She breathes. For the two years he’d known MJ, Oscar had never known her to panic over small details; in fact, it was quite the opposite - she was the problem solver for small details.
“MJ, is everything okay?”
She exhales into the phone receiver, creating a crunchy noise on Oscar’s end, “I just have a weird feeling about today.”
“Like, Meatloaf Monday weird,” He gauged, “or like seeing-Mark-Webber-drop-a-hot-dog-onto-the-floor-and-trying-to-pick-it-up-to-throw-it-in-the-trash-but-he’s-in-his-Iron-Man-suit-so-he-can't-really-bend-down-and-pick-it-up-without-looking-clunky weird?”
MJ quirked her eyebrow, “Osc, that’s very specific.”
“Central Park can be a lawless place sometimes,” He countered. “Anyway, get on the bus. I’ll see you there. I promise.”
“Swear on the Q line?”
Oscar lets out a long breath, “That’s invoking higher powers we have no control over.”
“Swear on it, Piastri.”
“I’m so going to regret this,” he spins in a small circle, trying to rationalize his next words, “okay, I swear on the Q.”
“Okey dokey!” MJ chirps, “See you soon!”
***
Maybe swearing on the Q line was a good omen for Oscar.
He arrived at Horner Corp ten minutes before everyone else, and he even got himself a hot chocolate from the cart on the corner of the street. He waited on the steps of the laboratory as the buses rolled up and started to unload teenagers in their school uniforms. Then, from the third bus down the row, he saw them. Gwen was animatedly talking to Liz, while MJ had a quieter conversation with Peter.
Peter Parker. The same Peter Parker that he has been academically competing against. Flash calls them the Battle of the Brains, points for alliteration, I guess. But also the same Peter Parker that blushes whenever MJ is mentioned. The same Peter Parker who lives in the same building as MJ and him, and who has a very lovely Uncle and Aunt who, unfortunately, are pushing the MJ and Peter agenda. But Oscar could not care less, there is nothing he could care less about in fact! It’s why he doesn’t care that his heart has forgotten to beat in a lub-dub manner when MJ spots him from far away, or when she begins to smile brightly and wave her arm erratically, or when she turns to Peter to dismiss herself and run-skip over to Oscar. He definitely does not smile when he sees Peter looking dejected.
She skids to a stop in front of him and holds out her hands like a fish, and he returns the gesture, initiating their secret handshake that Hattie made them create. At first, they did it to appease Hattie, but now it was an unironic, friendly greeting, and most definitely not a scheme by Hattie Piastri herself to let her brother have an excuse to touch his best friend’s hands.
“G’day mate.”
Oscar groans and offers his cup to the girl, “You know you can ask for a sip of my hot chocolate like a normal person, right?”
MJ takes off the lid and smells the warmth of the chocolate wafting into the cool early October air, “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”
Oscar simply smiles at her as she takes a swig of his drink. He tries not to get too lost in his thoughts when he feels a stinging clap on his back, “Piastri! It’s unfortunate you made it, I thought I’d have MJ all to myself today.”
Before Oscar can speak up, MJ opens her mouth to reveal her most monotonous voice, “Flash, careful with your next words, I have a steaming cup of hot chocolate in my hands that I would hate to go to waste.”
Flash laughs and walks off, “I’ll impress you one day, MJ.”
“Doubt it, buddy!”
Just as MJ is reaching for another sip, Oscar swoops in and takes his cup back and takes a drink, “Hey! I was gonna take another sip!”
“You don’t get to put my drink in a hostage situation and bluff about her life.”
MJ raises an eyebrow and smirks, “Oh, so it’s a her, now?”
“Do not start with me, MJ.”
“Or what, Piastri?” She challenged.
Oscar narrowed his eyes, scanning his brain for a punishment befitting of threatening the livelihood of his beloved drink and for teasing the use of pronouns for said drink. Finally, he comes up with a sentence worthy enough to make her jokingly back off, “I’ll remind everyone what MJ actually stands for.”
“You wouldn’t!” MJ gasps.
Oscar simply states, “Don’t test me,” as he takes another sip of his hot chocolate.
“You are an evil, evil man, Oscar Piastri.”
Oscar smirks, “only for you.”
MJ tips her head back and cackles. Oscar forces himself to look away before someone notices the way he looks at her, as if she were the only option ever.
“Alright, everyone, gather around!” Miss Strauss, soon to be Mrs. Balotelli, waved everyone over to her while she stood on a higher step, “We have been asked— Richard, pay attention please— We have been asked to place you all into smaller groups to facilitate tours for today. Please be on your best behavior, Horner Corp only opens all their doors to the general public once a year, and it is a great opportunity to be near scientists and ask them questions, and maybe even network!”
MJ groaned under her breath, and Oscar exhaled a single laugh.
“Okay!” Miss Strauss clapped, “Arrange yourselves in groups of around five, please!”
MJ, Oscar, Gwen, and Logan naturally gravitated toward each other, the group of four having been solidified two years ago. It was the natural order of things, two boys, two girls, all best of friends with each other, no one else— “Hey, Peter!”
Oscar whips his head over to look at MJ, who paid him no mind and waved over the bumbling boy.
“Me?” he pointed to himself.
MJ joyfully stated, “Yeah, who else?” All while Oscar muttered it under his breath.
Peter walked over with a pep in his step, “You don’t have to, really—”
Oscar is about to agree when MJ cuts him off, “Well, it’s us or Flash, so take your pick...”
The group looked over at the blonde, who had gone through a massive growth spurt during the summer break, the kind that made nerds like Peter terrified. “Good point,” Peter countered.
As much as Oscar didn’t want Parker in the group, he wasn’t a monster. After all, Flash is a common obstacle that they have both had to navigate for the past couple of years.
***
The inside of the Horner Corp lobby was clean and precise. Flooded with adults walking with purpose to areas behind a door activated with a key card. Oscar’s observations are cut short when he hears the playing of a tape recorder next to him, “October fourth, Twenty-Seventeen. Horner Corp lobby, it’s clean and sterile, and I see a door I want to go behind.”
Oscar reaches over to pause the device, “If you’re going to commit a crime, maybe don't record yourself to provide evidence?”
“That’s only if I get caught,” MJ rationalizes, “Besides, Horner Corp has been said to engage in shady biomechanic business—”
“Allegedly,” Oscar cuts off, “you need to get off of Reddit.”
“This source wasn’t off of Reddit, Oscar,” She lowers her voice, “I met with an NYU intern who got fired from a research project with Doctor Connor. She said that in the end, almost everyone was dismissed from the project. Those who weren’t have gone MIA.”
“I don’t know MJ...” Oscar was never one to try and get into trouble, but he wasn’t exactly a saint, especially when it was a scheme MJ was involved in, “I don’t wanna get kicked out and have Principal Wolff up our asses.”
“I’ll go with you,” Peter piped up.
MJ grinned, “Seriously?”
“Yeah, why not?” Peter shoved his hands in his pockets. “What’s the worst that can happen?”
“Expulsion, a permanent ban from this building, a lecture from Miss Strauss about burning professional bridges? In that order,” Oscar reasoned, “Besides, MJ, didn't you say you had a bad feeling about today?”
MJ chewed the inside of her cheek and crossed her arms, “Yeah, but... I’m curious. Aren’t you, Oscar?”
Oscar walked over to the nearest trash can to toss his cup, “Curiosity killed the cat, MJ.”
Peter took a step closer to MJ, “But satisfaction brought it back...”
MJ flashed a grin at Peter once again before turning her sights on Oscar. “See, Osc? Someone is in the sleuthing spirit!”
MJ turned to the blondes and told them they would be right back!
So between the inquisitive nature of his best friend and her newfound affinity for the curious boy next to her, Oscar had no choice but to accompany them, and that is how they ended up behind the door. A feat in and of itself, how three teenagers managed to get past armored security or steal a key card from an unsuspecting scientist was beyond even their own comprehension, but once past the door, they got to business. MJ, per usual, was leading the charge.
“How do you know where you’re going?” Peter asked.
MJ kept her eyes on the ceiling as she navigated through the corridors, “I’ve spent the past month studying the floor plans of this building—”
Oscar pulled MJ by her waist and Peter by his collar into a dark corner. Just as MJ was about to open her mouth and argue, Oscar clamped his hand over her mouth. A beat later, a guard walked right past where they had previously stood. Once the coast was clear, Oscar removed his hand from her mouth. “That was close.”
“Too close,” Peter added, “maybe we should just head back.”
“Are you crazy?” MJ’s hands flailed about as she took a good look at Peter, “We are so close to finding something, anything...Don’t tell me you’re sacred now, Peter.”
Peter looks over at Oscar and pleads, “Dude, you gotta convince her this is crazy.”
Oscar crosses his arms and leans against the wall, “I told you it was a bad idea from the start, and I don’t half ass schemes. You in or not?”
Peter felt betrayed in that moment; the one person he expected to be reasonable this whole time was going along with the crazy antics of the most popular girl in school. He’s also her best friend, he narrated to himself.
“Fine.”
“Perfect,” She said, her smile almost stretching as big as the Cheshire Cat. As soon as MJ finished her words, a hissing noise came from their right. Once again, they took their hiding spots, peering over the wall as much as they could, only to see Christian Horner himself and Doctor Curtis Connor walking out and down the hallway. As soon as they disappeared, MJ sprinted towards the closing doors, with Oscar and Peter hot on her heels. Peter barely made it in as MJ grabbed his collar and pulled him, the momentum causing him to stumble over her a bit and crash into the glass behind them. A shifting sound took place, but slipped past the ears of the teenagers.
“Sorry.”
MJ straightened herself up and swiped imaginary dust off herself, “Don’t sweat it.”
Oscar looked around the dark room; only the soft lighting from the shelving illuminated the space, barely. Oscar noticed several glass cases with big red Xs over their plaques. He felt the wall until he reached a light switch. The sight they were met with rendered the inquisitive bunch speechless.
Images of spiders. Everywhere. And suddenly, a very real and very big one was crawling on Peter’s neck.
“Peter...”
Peter stiffened at MJ’s tone, “Yeah?”
“Don’t move, mate.” Oscar cautiously held his hand out and let the spider walk onto his palm, “gotcha.”
Peter was sweating, “Holy shit. Thanks, man— How are you doing that?”
“Doing what?” Oscar asked. His hands occasionally overlapped, creating a never-ending walkway for the spider in his hands. Peter pointed at his hands in shock, disgust, and awe.
“I’m from Australia,” He said, his full focus on the spider now. Oscar noticed how it didn’t exactly look like any spider he had seen before. It was bulbous, with a blue chrome-shifting body and a bold red stripe running down its back. “These guys tend to be small, so when they get startled, they look for something bigger to protect them.”
“It’s freaky.”
“It’s nature, Peter. Wouldn't you want someone to defend you when you can’t defend yourself?”
Oscar’s counter had Peter crossing his arms and MJ looking away.
It was silent for another minute, Oscar playing with the spider in his hands, Peter looking anywhere but at the arachnid, and MJ trying to make sense of the crossed-out plaques, until her watch went off: “shit, we have to meet in the front lobby in five minutes for the scientists' panel.”
“You guys, go ahead,” Oscar, still entranced with the spider in his hands, “I’m gonna see where I can safely put this guy back.”
MJ fidgeted with her recorder in her hand, a newer habit she had accumulated. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, go ahead, just make sure you don’t get caught.”
Peter grabs MJ’s hand and leads her out, a gesture not lost on Oscar, “Okay, we’ll see you outside.”
MJ and Peter disappear behind the sliding door, and Oscar turns back around to place the spider back down. He leans over what he assumes to be its broken enclosure, the same one MJ had bumped into, courtesy of Peter, just a couple of minutes ago. As he leans his hand inside to let the spider walk off, he notices an alarming number of huge spools of silk sitting in the case. He quickly retracts his hand with the spider back to himself, “They oughta clean your space, mate.”
With his free hand, he moves as many silk casings as he can; the spider, seeming to enjoy the view, leans over as well. It’s when Oscar realizes the casings are too big to be flies, and he straightens his posture and looks around at the other cases. empty cases.
“Hey, man, you didn't— you didnt eat those other spiders, did you?” The eight-legged creature simply stared back at him, almost daring the accusation to go further, “You know what, little buddy, how about you just go back to your home, yeah?”
Oscar tried never to panic, but when he had a huge spider in his hand that had eaten the rest of its compatriots, simply being from Australia wasn't enough to keep the worry from washing over him. But the spider wasn’t walking off his hand; it wasn’t even moving. Oscar started shaking his hand over the enclosure, a last-ditch effort to get the thing back home, “C’mon, man. Go home.”
He shook harder, and that’s when he felt it. All of it. searing pain in the palm of his hand, hot and white and furious. He crouched to his knees, holding his hand to his chest for what felt like hours. With sweat dripping from his brow, dry heaving, and struggling to breathe, Oscar picks himself up and notices the once big spider in his palm was still latching on, but it looked drained and shriveled. Surrounding the bite mark? a chrome shifting bruise. He rips the spider off with little to no effort, the small animal practically turning to dust in his fingers. He pants before quickly exiting and navigating his way out of the lab and back to the panel being held in the conference hall on the first floor.
In his heavy and disoriented state, he accidentally slams the door open, where hundreds of his peers, upperclassmen and underclassmen alike, Dr Curtis Conner, Christian Horner, and Principal Wolff all immediately direct their looks at him. He straightens himself up and tries to walk as calmly as possible to the empty seat in front of MJ. She removes her jacket so he can take a seat, and everyone directs their eyes back to the front, where Horner and Connor are talking about some protein-strengthening breakthrough brought by a spider’s web.
MJ leaned over the stressed boy’s shoulder and whispered, “You’re late! Where were you?”
Oscar turns his hand to explain when he realizes there is no bruise, no scar from the bite, and there isn’t even a tenderness where he thought the bite might have been, “Um, bathroom issues.”
“Sorry to hear that, man,” Peter whispers. Oscar whips his head to see him sitting next to MJ. Oscar turns back around and groans as he sinks into his seat.
FOUR
Oscar was a punctual boy. At least, he had been back in Melbourne. But this was New York City. Here, the claws of tardiness didn’t discriminate between sinners and saints. Unfortunately, they grabbed Oscar tightly on his last day at Tribeca Tech.
Yet this wasn’t the fault of sleeping through an alarm or his youngest sister spilling yogurt on his school uniform, but the attempted robbery of a bank on the Upper East Side. Oscar was halfway into his graduation gown when the radio scanner went off in his ear buds, “Shit.” He took a quick look at his watch before rationalizing that yes, he should have enough time to stop said robbery and make it to graduation on time.
Oscar grabs his backpack in a rush and heads out the door, but not before Nicole stops him, “And where are you going in such a rush?”
Oscar stops in his tracks, “To, uh, MJ’s”
“I thought MJ said she was leaving early to help with last-minute setup,” Oscar had never wanted more than to sling a web at Hattie’s mouth than in this moment.
“Yes! Exactly, that is what I am going to go do. I am going to go... help.” He said as he made sure his mask was in his backpack. Hattie narrowed her eyes but dropped the subject.
“Okay, I guess we’ll see you there then?” added Nicole.
Oscar walked over and kissed his mom’s forehead, “Yeah, mum. I’ll see you there.”
“Please don’t be late, Osc,” She pleaded.
Oscar let out a nonchalant laugh, “I won’t. I promise.”
As soon as the door slammed behind him, Edie swallowed her last spoonful of cereal, “Liar.”
***
Now, granted, it wasn’t easy being Spider-Man. But swinging through the streets of New York City was definitely therapeutic for the young hero. A swing cut short due to how fast he was swinging, the crew would kill him if he was late for graduation, and MJ herself would skin him slowly. When he approached the bank, he flipped and webbed Captain Stacey and his squad to their cars.
Oscar’s perfectly practiced American accent slipped out of his mouth like honey, “Mornin’ Captain Stacey, fine day to be stoppin’ crime, isn’t it?”
All he heard was the loud shout of his girlfriend’s dad. A small twinge of hurt settled in his chest before being replaced by the fact that he knows Captain Stacey loves Oscar Piastri, and that was enough for him.
Inside the bank, five men in ski masks held civilians at gunpoint with burlap sacks in their hands. “What, did you guys get your outfit inspiration from a Batman comic?”
The men turned to face Oscar, “Spider-Man!”
“Robbers! Now that we’ve all introduced ourselves, can we wrap this up? I got places to be—”
Shots were fired at Oscar, who leaped out of the way and stuck himself to the ceiling and crawled toward an uncovered exit, opening it and silently guiding the hostages out. “I thought we were friends!”
“No friends! Only enemies,” yells one of the men.
Oscar drops his voice, “If you say so...”
Outside, backup for the NYPD had arrived and started working on releasing Captain Stacey’s crew from their cars, “Quickly, we gotta get these guys, and I gotta be on time for my daughter's graduation!”
“We’re trying, sir!”
“Well, try harder!”
Oscar had taken three of the five men down and wrapped them in webs, then snuck up behind the remaining two and slowly lowered himself behind them.
“Where is he?” one whispered. As Oscar was about to open his mouth to come out with a smart response, his phone rang in his pocket. Both remaining assailants turned and started to shoot at him as he quickly pulled himself out of harm's way and answered his phone, “Hey!”
MJ paced the steps outside the graduation hall, “Oscar, where the hell are you?”
“I’m most definitely,” he said, dodging a bullet, “on my way over!”
“Oscar, was that a gunshot?”
Oscar had had enough of the thieves wasting time and slung two webs and used his body to knock them out cold, “No. I’m by some tracks.”
“Well, hurry up. I can only distract Gwen for so long before she starts worrying.”
He sighs and walks away from the mess towards the front door when he sees half of the NYPD making their way over. Oscar runs towards the back exit, where all the hostages were being helped by EMTs, and slings away, picking up his backpack with a flick to the ledge of nearby scaffolding. a chorus of Thank you, Spider-Man ringing in the air.
Oscar never ran a marathon on purpose, but if he ever did, he’d imagine that the swing from the Upper East Side into Tribeca in under thirty minutes was the same type of exhaustion he’d feel. Lowering himself into an alley and changing in record time, he ran into the hall just as students were walking in formation to Pomp and Circumstance. He took his place in front of MJ and looked back to shoot a wink at Gwen, who giggled next to Logan.
“You’re late,” MJ quietly announced.
Oscar looked back and walked backwards to address her, “Am I though?”
MJ rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, “Where were you anyway, Piastri?”
“On the tracks,” He offered.
MJ scrunched her nose as he turned back around, “Swear on the Q?”
Oscar accidentally dropped the smile from his face before shaking his head to reset, “I swear on it.”
THE ONE TIME HE WASN'T
The crown of the Statue of Liberty was usually a beautiful sight, especially during the summer when sunsets bled a deep orange, casting a golden glow over the city. MJ wishes she could enjoy the view under better circumstances, instead of being held hostage by the Red Bull.
He was hoisting her by the back of her clothes, twenty feet above the crown. She was trying hard not to flail so that she wouldn’t slip from the grasp of one of Spider-Man’s villains. But she didn’t hold out any hope for the red and blue as she felt herself slipping from Red Bull’s grasp.
Just as she was about to lose all faith, a voice from behind Red Bull spoke up, “Put her down, Red.”
MJ wanted to smile; her savior radiated warmth with his presence, literally. Lando Norris, the Human Torch, was hovering behind the Red Bull, his arms out and ready to catch the 24-year-old woman.
“Where is Spider-Man?” Red Bull hissed.
“He’s late,” Lando pointed out, like it was a normal occurrence, “You got me instead, mate.”
“No Spider-Man, no deal.”
As soon as the last syllable left the flying bull’s mouth, he released MJ.
Lando tried going after her, but he was rammed in the chest and dragged away by Red Bull’s hoverboard. All Lando could do was yell with his arms reaching out to a woman who was quickly about to become acquainted with the pedestal of the Lady Liberty.
MJ sobbed and started screaming on her way down, arms and legs grasping at the air around, praying that somehow this could become a dream, that maybe she would wake up in the Piastri’s living room. It was Sunday, maybe Nicole would make her favorite for dinner. She dreams about what would have been if she had admitted to Oscar about how she felt, instead of letting her fear of the future get in the way, if she had just told Gwen that yes, she did like Oscar a lot, then maybe she would die with absolutely no regrets instead of one.
But maybe when she reached the ground, she would see Gwen, in the place where kind people go after they die. She would tell her the truth and promise to be a better friend. She closed her eyes and accepted the end. She could only hope she got to that special place.
The concrete was soft, and falling felt sideways, and... swing-like?
MJ opened her eyes to meet the white lenses of her savior, “Spider-Man,” she choked.
“That’s me,” He sighed in relief, tears threatening to spill.
“The Torch said you were going to be late,” She sobbed as he softly landed on the pedestal and placed her on her feet.
“Yeah. I’m sorry.”
She pulled him into a crushing hug, “You’re here.”
Oscar took MJ into his arms and held her for a few more moments before reluctantly peeling away, “I gotta help Lando, but I’ll be back. Stay hidden, MJ.”
Oscar swung away, and MJ stood dumbfounded, “How does he know my name?”
***
For the second time that night, Spider-Man softly placed MJ down on the pavement. This time, in front of her apartment complex, a block away from where she grew up running around with Oscar and his sisters. Lando was not far behind, extinguishing his flame as he stepped up next to the hero.
“Do you need help walking inside?”
“No, thank you,” MJ said, shoving her hands in her pockets. “I think I just need to be with myself for a bit.”
Lando and Oscar shared a look before the latter spoke up, “Please don’t hesitate to ask for help if it gets to be too much.”
“Okay...”
MJ stayed quiet, but she didn’t move a single inch. Her fingers twitched with adrenaline, and the fact that she almost became a headline for the Daily Bugle. Lando shifted his foot when she spoke up, “My best friend... Gwen Stacey.”
Oscar stiffened, “What about her?”
“She died. The same way I almost did tonight,” she took a deep breath before continuing, “and you caught her. But it was too late. Do you remember that?”
How could he? He held Gwen in his arms for hours until Logan and Peter found him hunched over, all while MJ watched from the top of the tower. All because Oscar prioritized MJ’s safety before his own girlfriend's, “yes.”
MJ walked up to Oscar and held his masked face in her hands, “I think she’d feel happy that you could do for someone else what you couldn't do for her.” And with that final sentence, she kissed his cheek before moving on and doing the same for Lando, “Thank you.”
MJ disappeared into her building, and all Oscar could do was stand still. Lando softly clapped a hand on his shoulder, “Go home, Oscar,” he whispered, “You’ve earned it.”
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