does whatever a spider can.

[spider-managing]

[xjackpot]

Mary Jane had been happy to lean into the kiss he’d returned against her cheek, humming in content before pressing another quick kiss directly beside the one she’d planted on his cheek upon arrival. She instinctively reached up with a manicured thumb to wipe away the smear of red that had been left behind by her lipstick, swiping across his skin a few times before the mark was cleared away. “...Probably more like fifteen minutes,” MJ said after a beat had passed, a soft smile tugging her lips upward as she slowly took a step back and out of his way to let him all of the way into the apartment. Would’ve been happy to stay right there (with a big ol’ kiss to welcome him home, just like once upon a time before everything had gotten so damned messy) after a too-long day that was going to turn into a potentially longer evening with more work to do…but that was complicated. Messy, complicated, not the time to think about that. “Ordered on the Uber home. I'm starving and started dreaming of Lombardi's somewhere around 2:15. So we are in a time crunch.” Mary Jane lightly tossed that phone in his direction with the damned application open, taking another drink from the wine bottle she was toting around. “You’ve always been smarter than me with literally everything. I have faith. To be fair, I’ve been working on this for the better part of the afternoon. Kept getting like, two steps in at the office and then busy and now it turns out I’m incapable.” She rolled her eyes, took another drink from that wine bottle, and dropped herself to sit on the oversized cream-colored loveseat off to the side in the living room of the apartment. “Don’t work too hard, I’m sure someone at the office can figure it out tomorrow.” Definitely should’ve just tasked one of her assistants to do it, but it was too late for that now and work-from-home had become an unfortunate day-to-day reality. Mary Jane had become a little too addicted to e-mail once her career had taken off, a little more addicted than usual when her career had shifted towards working for the UN and the e-mails were a little more important and didn’t have a manager skimming through them. “Sorry to bombard you the second you got home. I was preparing a warning text where I begged for help, but you beat me to it.” Another smile went his way, and Mary Jane offered the wine bottle up and over in his direction. “Your day was okay?”

[spider-managing]

Fifteen minutes? More than he usually got to save the world. Which this definitely was. He made a show of huffing about the timeline all the same, even as the warmth of his scrubbed-at cheek snuck a little higher, the start of a blush that'd rival MJ's absolutely signature lipstick if it got away from him. Which it definitely wouldn't. And totally didn't, lately. Especially when every time coming home really, really felt like coming home.

He caught the phone, anyway. Like only a spider could. If the spider was big enough to not get crushed on impact, obviously. "C'mon, I've had crunchier. And I'm not smarter with literally everything. Just nerd junk. That's, like, my ecological niche." MJ couldn't have forgot all the times he'd gone and made a total tool of himself tagging along to some red carpet or other, fumbling as the paparazzi grilled Mary Jane Watson's Plus One. The good old days.

Though, these days, they were - they were better than they could've been. Absolutely. By a lot. An unbelievable amount, actually. Peter scoffed that apology right away, tapping through menus and submenus. "Oh, yeah. Just okay. Better now, obviously." So much better. Better than he could easily string together and say, sentiments-wise. Not just because of the couch he'd slumped onto, gingerly, stretching out that beat-up spine of his. Man, that he was still feeling Spider-Man's first real run in with the Magistrate a week and some later - served him right, maybe. For all the jokes about how Gotham was exporting clowns, these days.

"Also, seriously. Are you kidding? As bombardments go, this was great. Really, really - really great. No shrapnel, even. The Queens judge gives it an eleven. Would be bombarded again. Anytime. And," he held the phone out, a victorious swap for the wine. "Done." World, saved. For now.

[soniatera]

[spideringaround]

miles for @spider-managing

"--and so I was helping out Ted at the autoshop since he had that hand injury and Ryan was sick today, but something wild happened while I was there," Miles was talking quickly, barely able to contain his excitement. He'd already sort of explained on the phone, and now he was holding a small canister of motor oil and waving his hands around emphatically as he spoke. "Watch this, watch this-"

A water bottle cap was sacrificed to the oil, a small quantity quickly (and a little messily) poured into the cap and the canister set aside. Miles hovered a finger over the cap and after a second, a spark of electricity ran from his hand to the liquid. He grinned at Peter and cracked his knuckles. "Watch!"

Miles picked up the cap and poured the oil over his open palm, then dropped the cap and held his other hand above the first. What should have been a simple mess.. wasn't. The oil hovered between his palms in a tiny sphere, Miles' eyes fixed on it with concentration.

[spider-managing]

The kids were gonna be alright. Or, at least, this kid, who'd come spidering across the skyline, right from work, to share some kinda guaranteed cool science stuff. Which was very alright with Peter, anyway. "I'm watching! I'm watching," he insisted, shoving his laptop away for after whatever Miles was setting up at MJ's kitchen table. Water bottle, okay. Motor oil, interesting. That now-familiar zappy thing crackling between his fingers, always awesome. And...

"Oh, wow," Peter tilted right over, eyes wide, level with all that bioelectricity in action. "What is happening there, look at that, it's like... it's..." his own fingers mirrored Miles', circling. Then he sat back, still beaming, wondering, pawing the nearest stress ball - a thinking ball, so he didn't have to waste any of those thoughts on figuring out what his hands should be doing - and giving it a knead.

"Okay, so. I'm having physics flashbacks. Are you having physics flashbacks? Physics and Electro. You ever had to deal with that guy? But it's a thing, like a famous experiment, one of those thes, you know? The Something Experiment. Pretty sure." Google time. Cracking that laptop back open, Peter minimized the post-processing he'd been doing in his shiny, workplace subscription copy of Photoshop and got down to keywords. "How is work? And school. And other work." Spider-Work, Creative Commons licensed. Not actually, but.

[spider-managing]

No, I can’t understand Tell me I'm mad, 'cuz in my head We work it out, turn this around And the stars do come out Yes, in my head Nothing's too hard We fight for us, and we never give up In my head So, is this really what you wanted? Do we get the chance to turn it around? 'Cuz no matter what I try I tried it But in my head...

[xjackpot]

@spider-managing

“ – So I got a new phone after I dropped mine the other day and I needed to re-set up the multi-factor authenticator thingy for work stuff, right? Okay, started that, and it’s telling me I forgot my password? I literally have it written down, but whatever, so I started the process to change that."

Mary Jane had started talking from the moment she’d opened the door to the Upper East Side penthouse, a bottle of wine in hand that she absolutely took a sip directly out of as she kicked the discarded Louboutins she'd left directly in the doorway out of the way. “So now it’s saying my new password cannot be my old password and it’s still telling me that my current password is not my password. I haven’t even gotten to touch the multi-factor crap yet and I am about to throw my computer off the balcony so please tell me you know how to do this." Because if not then, well a new laptop would be joining the new phone and everything would probably be twice as complicated. "Also hi, welcome home," said after another hefty glug of wine directly from the mouth of the bottle, stepping forward to plant a red-lipsticked-kiss right against his jaw. "I ordered pizza."

[spider-managing]

Jackpot.

What did it say, that the tension twisting up his spine just absolutely, totally, mostly, okay, just mostly, but a lot, an unbelievable lot, unraveled at the sound and sight of Mary Jane Watson? In an open doorway. Peter knew. He knew what it said. And what he wanted to say, now.

Just - not now, now. Instead, he bent right into that kiss, catching her, for a moment, or maybe two, a hand spread and solid against MJ's back. "Uh-huh, hey, hi," hi, home, he beamed, into the side of her neck. Despite... everything. All the everything. "Hi." A squeeze, and a kiss of his own, right there, against the softness of her cheek, and... Peter swayed back into kicking his shoes off. Over with those deadly heels. Easy as it'd be, to just - keep holding her. "I mean, I don't know if I know, but. Pizza. So I've got, like... twenty minutes, to figure it out?" Pizza meant Lombardi's, because MJ didn't have to settle for less, these days; she'd never deserved to. And you ate that hot.

(Speaking, or not, of which... wow, she was - how she always was. Beautiful. Crazy beautiful, swanning around this cityscape-view apartment, barefoot with her bottle. Man, the way this, staying, here, with her, again, kept hitting him like a ton of bricks. Which he'd been hit with, before. At least a ton. Wow...)

"Cool, cool, cool. Always do my best work under pressure. Gimme," Peter grabby-handsed for the phone, ducking out from under his messenger bag with a pop-crack of his neck that ran all the way down. He rolled his shoulder with another crunch, a wince, a huff. Oy. Then raised that hand again, ready, game.

[spider-managing]