MTA Ch10 - Human (Patreon)

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More Than AmazingChapter 10 - Human

Peter had gotten up early in the morning, although May already had him beat at that point. After a quick shower and breakfast, he had started to prepare for his day while pulling up his phone and shooting a text to his favorite redhead.

Peter: Hey, u getting ready for today?

MJ: Ugh, yeah. Wish I could've slept in some more.

Peter: What, wish u had more beauty sleep?

MJ: Like I need it! :P

He chuckled a bit at her reply, before grabbing his bag from his closet and pulling his shirt over his head while still typing with one hand.

Peter: Yeah, you're right, you probably don't need it.

Peter: Did u bring anything for today?

Peter: I went shopping around yesterday.

He waited for a while, but she seemed to be taking her time to reply. In the meantime, Peter opened up his bag and began packing it.

May soon walked into his room, already ready to tackle the day.

“Are you almost done getting everything?” May asked Peter.

“Yeah, I'm just finishing up. Just gimme a sec.” Peter spoke back as he stuffed the bag with an assortment of clothes he had purchased the day before. However, they were not in his size, and were instead fitted for a boy a few years younger.

“We aren't even sure if he'll show up.” He couldn't help but express his uncertainty to his aunt.

“Have faith, Peter, in that boy and yourselves.” May chided kindly, “You probably had a bigger impact on him than you expected.”

“…Well, I hope so.” Peter finished with a sigh.

He carefully placed the last item in the bag: a small box, sheathed in wrapping paper and topped with a small bow.

Peter smiled as he zipped up the bag.

Finally he looked up at May, and was startled by the expression on her face. She was looking at him with soft eyes, but with a smile so bright it deepened every crease around her eyes.

“…What?” Peter asked, baffled by the unexpected warmth.

“Nothing,” May said before walking over and pulling him into a sudden hug, “I'm just very proud of you, never forget that.”

“…Um,” he replied softly before losing himself in that same hug as he wrapped his arms around her.

𖢥𖢥𖢥

Mary Jane stared at the mirror. She'd been almost done getting ready when she suddenly decided to take much longer. She had raided her aunt's bathroom just before she was about to finish as well.

One moment she was placing her phone face down in sudden shyness and the next she was haphazardly lining her eyelashes in mascara.

Hopefully, Anna wouldn't blame her.

She paused, the mascara wand hovering an inch from her lashes.

What was she doing?

It was a soup kitchen. In an hour she'd probably be all sweaty while wearing a hairnet.

She did the other eye anyway, even going as far as flicking Anna's eyeliner at the end of her eyelid to give herself a subtle cat eye.

Then she went back and did the previous eye the same way.

After she was done she stepped back and looked at herself in the mirror. She thought she looked good, beautiful even, but she wasn't sure if that was her ego or her own self-delusion.

Everyone at school always complimented her for her looks, and she was proud of it—but she never went out of her way to do something like this. It was the other girls who bragged about makeup while she pretended to agree and went along with their words without care.

She didn't know what to feel.

She stared herself down and felt like a kid playing dress up. Because that's what she was at the end of the day. She felt silly and stupid and immature… yet she couldn't bring herself to wipe it off.

She had never experienced anything like it. What compliment had she not heard before? They had never affected her, to her they were all superficial and fake anyways.

Her mother used to play dress up, and her father would shower her with smiles and compliments. It never stopped him from yelling at her in a drunken rage later that same day.

But here she was, doing the same thing. Just Peter's nonchalant text about her not needing any beauty sleep left her face the color of her hair and her stumbling into the bathroom in a daze.

Ugh.

She didn't know if she liked him like… that. But, he was there for her when she was sad, and there for her when she was scared. They hadn't known each other long, but she felt like she could be herself around him. That was something wholly unfamiliar to her, yet something she was beginning to crave more with each passing moment.

He was kind and smart, and went against everything she knew about boys.

She admired him.

…And looking at the silly girl in the mirror identical to herself, she couldn't help but give her a shy smile.

Because a part of her just wanted him to admire her too.

She pulled her phone back over.

Peter: Did u bring anything for today?

Oh, right. The actual point of the morning.

MJ: Sorry, was getting ready

MJ: Not really… was I supposed to??

The reply came almost instantly, like he'd been staring at his screen.

Peter: No no, it's fine! I just got some stuff for Joey

Peter: hopefully for when he shows up

She read it twice.

Because of course he did.

She was still smiling down at her phone when a knock sounded against the open bathroom door.

“You're up early.” Anna leaned on the frame, coffee in hand, hair still a mess. Her eyes drifted to MJ's face and stopped there.

A long pause.

“…Is that my mascara?”

MJ froze. “I-It's—for the soup kitchen.”

“Mm-hm.”

“It IS!” She spouted out with a blush, blatantly lying.

“I didn't say anything.” Anna didn't bat an eyelash as she set her mug on the counter, plucked a tissue from a box at the side, and tilted MJ's chin up with one finger. “Hold still. You smudged it a bit.”

MJ held still, glaring at the ceiling while her aunt dabbed at the corner of her eye. Anna didn't ask a single question, even though it was probably easy for her to guess.

That somehow made it more embarrassing.

“There's my beautiful niece.” Anna stepped back, looked her over once, and smiled—small and warm and definitely too knowing. “Have fun at the soup kitchen and tell Peter hello for me.”

MJ grabbed her bag and fled.

𖢥𖢥𖢥

Peter was sitting in the passenger seat of the car when MJ came hurrying down the front steps, bag clutched to her chest.

He lifted a hand to wave, but was forced to pause due to how quickly she arrived.

She yanked the back door open and slid in before he could finish the motion, ducking her head as she buckled her seatbelt.

“…You alright, MJ?” he asked hesitantly.

She looked up at him shyly. “S-sorry. Yeah, I'm fine—just in a rush.”

He smiled softly. “It's alright.”

“Morning, Mary Jane,” May said warmly, glancing back at her in the rearview mirror.

“Morning, Mrs. Parker. Thanks for picking me up.”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Peter turned back around to face the front, and May pulled away from the curb.

It was a minute or two before he glanced back again. He'd meant to ask something, maybe something about Joey. He couldn't remember, because the morning light was coming in through her window, and something about her looked… different.

He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Her eyes, maybe? They looked bigger somehow. Brighter? Sharper at the corners.

Oh. Oh.

MJ caught him staring. “What?”

“Nothing.” Peter spoke quickly as he shifted his head away from her, not daring to look closer.

MJ sank down in her seat, face burning, and stared very hard out the window.

The silence stretched for an entire block.

“M-my aunt wanted me to tell you hi!” MJ suddenly spoke up to fill the awkward silence.

He didn't know if it helped.

“Oh! Uh—tell her I said hi back,” Peter replied just as awkwardly, a beat too late, and facing the windshield.

“I will.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

May's hands tightened on the steering wheel, as she struggled to hide the way her shoulders repeatedly shook.

When they finally pulled up outside the shelter, May was the first one out, already heading for the doors to sign them in.

Peter climbed out next, with his backpack slung over his shoulder, and opened MJ's door before she could reach for it.

As she stepped out past him, he leaned in just slightly and muttered mischievously, “Did I mention how pretty you look today?”

MJ almost tripped on the curb.

Peter laughed as he walked ahead.

𖢥𖢥𖢥

The morning disappeared in a blur.

By the time the doors officially opened, the line already stretched halfway down the block. Peter ended up on soup duty, while MJ worked the station beside him, handing out bread rolls and napkins with a smile.

May was everywhere at once, refilling cups and wiping tables, chatting with everyone like she'd known them for years.

But every time the front door swung open, Peter's head snapped up.

A man in a worn Mets jacket. An older woman leaning on a cane. Two guys who looked like brothers, laughing about something. Not a little mutant boy.

It made sense. After all, why would Joey come through the front door?

The backpack sat tucked beneath the counter by his feet. Peter kept nudging at it with his shoe anxiously as more time passed.

MJ noticed, but she didn't say anything. Between trays, she just bumped her shoulder lightly against his arm, and when he looked over, she gave him a small smile.

He'll come.

Peter smiled back.

By afternoon, the line had thinned to a trickle, and then to nothing.

Volunteers started stacking up the chairs. Someone dragged a mop bucket out from the back and began cleaning the floor. The big pot of soup was down to its last few inches, and one of the staff members had already flipped the sign on the door to CLOSED.

Peter was still behind the counter, wiping down the same spot for the fourth time.

When one of the staff members started collecting the volunteers' aprons, May intercepted her with a warm smile.

“Would it be alright if we stayed a little longer? We're waiting on someone.”

The woman hesitated, then nodded. May thanked her, walked back over, and immediately checked her watch anxiously.

MJ pulled off her hairnet and leaned against the counter beside Peter, shaking out her hair. She'd been watching the door all afternoon too, after all.

“It's kinda funny.” She huffed as she tilted her head at him. “You're the one who was most adamant at leaving him last time, and now you're the most nervous person here.”

“Leaving him there was the best choice there was,” he said quietly. “Didn't mean I liked it.”

MJ's teasing expression softened. She didn't push at his tone, she simply shifted closer until her shoulder pressed against his own in comfort.

The three of them waited.

The clock on the wall ticked past the hour. A volunteer shut off the lights over the far tables, leaving half the room in shadows. May checked her watch again, and for the first time maybe ever, Peter saw her shoulders sag, just a little.

Then, from the kitchen behind them, came a sound. Three soft knocks. Not from the front door, but from the back one—the heavy door that opened out into the alley.

All three of them quickly burst into motion. MJ reached the door first, however Peter first pulled May aside. She looked at him harshly as he did, but quickly softened as he explained his reasoning in a whisper into her ear, “Wait for us to talk to him first. I don't know how he'll react to you.”

May's grip tightened on his arm, but eventually she gave him a sharp nod and moved away.

MJ hadn't opened the door. She instead stood with her hand on the bar, glancing back at Peter, waiting.

He joined her, took a breath, and nodded.

She pushed it open.

Cold alley air rushed in, sharp with the smell of wet pavement and garbage. For a second, there was nothing. Just the dumpster, then something shifted in the shadow beside it.

Joey stepped out slowly, hood pulled low and hands jammed deep in his pockets. His eyes flicked past them and back into the alleyway, like he was ready to bolt at the first wrong move.

Then they landed on Peter and MJ and stayed there.

“…You guys are actually here,” he mumbled.

They caught each other's eyes, then answered together. “Of course. We promised, didn't we?”

His shoulders loosened, just barely.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, scuffing his shoe against the pavement. “Guess you did.”

Peter stepped aside, leaving the doorway open without hovering over it. “You wanna come in? It's warm, and there's still food.”

Before Joey could move, Peter added, “But before you come in, there's something you should know. My aunt's here too. Aunt May. She's the one who drove us and made sure we got to stay late today. She was the one who almost walked in on us last time.”

Joey's eyes snapped to the doorway behind them. His whole body tensed, weight shifting back toward the alley.

“She's not gonna do anything,” Peter said quickly, keeping his voice low and even. “She knows about you, and she wants to meet you, but only if you're okay with that. I didn't want you walking in and getting surprised.”

MJ crouched a little so she was closer to Joey's height. “She's really nice,” she added. “Like, really nice.”

Joey glanced at her, then back at the door, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“…The lady from last time?” he asked.

“That's right,” Peter said. “And if you'd rather not meet her, that's okay too. We can stay out here. I'll bring the food out, and it can just be the three of us. Your call.”

“…She knows?” he finally asked quietly. “About me?”

“She does,” Peter said. “And she still came.”

“…Okay,” he mumbled. “I'll come in.”

MJ eased the door open wider, and Joey slipped in behind them, slow and quiet.

May was standing by the sinks, where Peter had left her, hands folded in front of her. She didn't move toward him. She just smiled, warm and patient, like the kindest woman he had ever seen. Which, she probably was.

Joey stopped a few feet inside. His hand found the edge of Peter's sleeve and held on.

“…Hi,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“Hello, Joey.” May's voice was softer than Peter had ever heard it. “It's so nice to finally meet you properly. Are you hungry, sweetheart?”

Joey's stomach answered before he could. He ducked his head, embarrassed, and MJ had to bite her lip to keep from smiling.

May just smiled deeper. “Would you like some wheatcakes?”

Now, Peter was feeling hungry.

Twenty minutes later, the kitchen smelled like butter and syrup.

Joey sat on an overturned milk crate by the prep counter, his plate already wiped clean. Peter sat beside him with his own stack, having given up on pretending he wasn't hungry the second the first batch hit the plate. MJ sat on Peter's other side, chewing her food happily. Peter couldn't help but grin when he saw the flour stuck to her face from helping May in the kitchen.

He would warn her, but he thought it was too cute to get rid of so soon.

“How was it?” May asked, sliding one last wheatcake onto Joey's plate before he could protest.

Joey nodded, very seriously. “Really good.”

Then he glanced across the counter, looked over at MJ and then hesitated, before he eventually pointed at his own pale cheek while looking at her.

“You've got… stuff. On your face.”

MJ froze mid-bite at his words. She swiped at her cheek and came away with a streak of white flour. Her eyes narrowed and slowly slid to Peter.

He took a very large bite of his wheatcake.

“How long?” she demanded.

“...Hmm,” said Peter.

“Peter.”

He swallowed as his eyes darted to the side. “Since the start.”

MJ smacked his arm with a pout. “Hmph!”

Their antics drew a small laugh out of Joey, muffled into his plate. This caused them all to smile, and Peter soon wiped his hands on a napkin and reached under the counter for the backpack.

“Hey, Joey.” Peter spoke up, catching the boy's attention. Then he just held the bag out for him.

“Got you some stuff,” he said. “Clothes, mostly. I guessed on the sizes, so if anything doesn't fit, just tell me.”

Joey stared at the bag in utter confusion.

“…For me?” he asked, like there had to be some mistake.

“For you,” Peter said.

Slowly, almost cautiously in disbelief, Joey took the bag and unzipped it just enough to peek inside. Inside was an assortment of different clothes, including a new hoodie, jeans, socks, a jacket and more. He touched the hoodie with one finger, like he couldn't believe that it was real.

Then his fingers brushed against something tucked at the top: a box wrapped in paper and a small, slightly crushed bow.

He looked up at Peter.

“...A present?” He spoke with a choked, almost silent voice.

“Yeah… a present,” Peter said, rubbing the back of his neck. “You don't have to open it now. Or you can. Whatever you want.”

Joey didn't say anything for a long moment. He just pulled the backpack into his lap and hugged it to his chest tightly.

“…Nobody's ever gotten me a present before,” he said quietly.

The three of them felt their hearts break at his words. May pressed a hand to her mouth with tears in her eyes, while MJ looked down at her plate, blinking rapidly.

Peter swallowed past the lump in his throat and nudged Joey's shoulder gently with his own.

“Well,” he said. “Now somebody has.”

“…Thanks,” Joey whispered.

MJ quietly wiped at the corner of her eye, smearing flour and mascara together across her cheek. Then she threw her arms around Joey and pulled him into her chest.

May joined soon after.

Peter caught Joey's beady red eyes, now brimming with tears, and just gave him a kind smile.

𖢥𖢥𖢥

The tunnels were never truly quiet.

Water dripped somewhere in the dark. Pipes groaned overhead, and every few minutes a train rumbled past far above, shaking dust loose from the ceiling. But in the little alcove Joey had claimed as his own, tucked behind a rusted maintenance ladder and lit by a single stubby candle, it was as close to quiet as it ever got.

He'd rushed straight home from the shelter, ignoring the other Morlocks' surprised looks.

He sat cross-legged on his blanket, wearing the new hoodie. It was a little too big, but he didn't care. It was warm, and it smelled brand new. It was a smell completely foreign to him.

The present sat in his lap.

He'd carried it the whole way back without opening it. He wanted it to be a surprise.

“Joey has box?”

He looked up. Leech was crouched at the edge of the alcove, big round eyes reflecting the candlelight, and pale green fingers curled around the ladder rung. It was always obvious when Leech approached.

It was something all the Morlocks felt differently. Joey felt it in his bones. It was why most of them avoided him, it was jarring to feel yourself suddenly losing all of your power.

Sometimes Joey would drag Leech along with him towards a reflective piece of metal just so he could look at his other self in envy and disbelief.

“Yeah,” Joey said. “It's a present.”

Leech tilted his head. “What is present?”

Joey thought about it for a moment, unsure. “It's… when someone gets you something. Just because. You don't have to do anything for it.”

Leech's eyes went even wider. He shuffled closer and plopped down beside him on the blanket, staring at the box like it might do something.

“Who give?”

“…Some very nice people,” Joey said quietly.

“Open?” Leech asked. “Leech want see.”

Joey nodded.

He picked carefully at the tape so he wouldn't rip the paper. He wanted to keep it. Leech watched, with excitement in his eyes. Finally, the paper came free, and Joey lifted the lid.

He forgot how to breathe for a second.

A large painted and mechanical raptor stared back at him. It was what he imagined his keychain would be while playing alone in his candlelit room.

It wasn't one of the cheap plastic ones from the dollar store bins, with paint rubbing off and seams down the middle. It was the type of toy he would only be able to see through display windows when he would sneak off in the dead of night.

It was big, almost as long as his forearm, with a mottled green-and-brown body, sharp little teeth, and claws curved like hooks. When he lifted it out, its legs moved. Its arms moved. Its jaw opened and closed. Every joint shifted with a satisfying little click.

There was a button on its side, and Joey immediately pressed it down. The raptor suddenly screeched, loud and sharp, with the sound bouncing down the tunnel.

Leech yelped and toppled backward off the blanket.

Joey abruptly burst out laughing, a laugh he didn't even know he could still let out. Leech sat up, blinking widely in confusion. Then he started giggling too, high and squeaky, while clutching his stomach.

“Again!” Leech demanded. “Do again!”

Joey pressed it again and again and again. Over and over. Leech shrieked with delight. Somewhere down the tunnel, someone yelled at them to keep it down, which only made them laugh harder.

When they finally calmed down, Joey held the raptor up in the candlelight, turning it slowly, watching the shadows of its claws stretch across the wall.

“It is cool,” Leech said reverently. “Very, very cool.”

“Yeah,” Joey whispered. “It is.”

He hugged it against his chest the same way he'd hugged the backpack earlier. Very tightly. Then he noticed how the toy was grasped in his now much darker toned hand. It was especially clear to see alongside eyes no longer filled with vision refracted in red.

At that moment he didn't feel like a mutant, or a Morlock hiding in a filthy tunnel.

He felt like a human.

Author’s Notes:

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