Open Up The Ocean

Chapter Two

Peter's stomach clenched, like hunger pains mixed with butterflies, it was a feeling so strange he couldn't quite understand it. His breath kept hitching in his throat, tripping over his tongue before stumbling into his lungs.

The air between them was so, so heavy. Each of them were engulfed in their own bubble, being weighed down by nothing but themselves. Peter felt that even if he really wanted too, he wouldn't be able to move an inch closer to her. If he did, his chest might split open from being pulled so tight.

With a gulp, he handed her a now clean plate. He went to grab another one to clean but was brought to a halt when he caught a glimpse of the drying rack. There was a smaller plate in the middle of two larger plates, with a bowl placed on top of them rather awkwardly.

"Uh- Michelle, can you fix the dishes, please?" He muttered, now grabbing another dirty plate.

"There's nothing wrong with it," She stated after a quick look at the dry dishes.

"The small plate is between the two big ones and the bowl looks like it's going to fall,"

"Who cares," Michelle scoffed.

"I do, can you just put them in order please," Peter pursed his lips.

"It literally doesn't matter Peter, they're going back in that bucket in like, five minutes,"

The boy clenched his jaw and tilted his head back, taking a deep breath before dropping the plate he was about to hand to MJ in the water. He flicked the water off his hands before leaning in front of Michelle to adjust the way the dishes had been stacked.

When they were placed in a way Peter was happy with, he grabbed the plate back out from the sink and handed it to Michelle. MJ was visibly annoyed, finding his little show rather pointless and irritating. She placed the small plate behind the bigger plates, just to throw off the organisation and spite him.

Peter sighed and closed his eyes. "MJ, please,"

"What," She snickered. "It's just a drying rack,"

"I don't care, can you just put it in the right place,"

"Why?"

"Because it's fucking annoying me, Michelle, that's why," Peter snapped, whipping his head to look at her, the air blowing out of his nose and reminding MJ of an angry calf.

"Alright, alright," Her eyes widened and she sighed, moving the plate.

"Thanks," Peter muttered.

The air between them now had bricks stacked miles high placed on top of it. Peter's jaw hurt from being clenched so hard, his teeth ground down to stumps. That, coupled with his stomach, made him want to fold in half and sink into the ground. The silence was more silent then it was before, it was deafening.

Peter realised he needed a haircut. A strand of hair fell in front of his face, tickling his nose as it swayed back and forth. He huffed, blowing air out of his mouth in an attempt to push the hair away. It flew forward but came right back. He couldn't use his hands because they were soaked in dirty water, he didn't feel like putting that on his face.

Michelle watched on in amusement as he used anything but his hand to try correct his hair. He went from using his breath to his shoulder to his elbow. She could feel him getting more and more annoyed, his body tensing and a low growl rumbling in his throat.

Eventually, he gave up, continuing to wash the dishes with even more hair in his face now. His face scrunched up every time the strands brushed his nose. Peter bit back a sigh but no longer needed too when MJ pushed them back gently.

Her hand ever so gently brushed the few curls back, her fingers going in slightly deeper to make sure his hair stayed put. Peter turned and looked at her, her eyes still focused on his hair before she brought her hand back down to her side. A delicate flush crept up his neck and onto his cheeks.

A touch so tender from Michelle felt so alien. Unnatural, almost. He was used to bumps, pushes and clearly, punches. Peter couldn't count the number of times he'd had an aggressive physical interaction with MJ, he'd assume one for every person in the world if he had too. An action like this, however, he could count that on one hand, with one finger.

"Thanks," Peter squeaked before clearing his throat. MJ shrugged and dried the last dish.

Neither said anything else as they cleaned up, putting the dishes in the bucket neatly and draining the sink. Peter grabbed the damp towel, attempting to dry his hands with it. He cringed at his soggy hands, hating the feeling he was so familiar with.

"Do you think Gwen made us do this so we would get out of the way?" Peter mused, walking next to Michelle with slow steps.

"Obviously," She scoffed, causing all the dishes to rattle.

"I don't want to walk back and have them be- doing stuff," Peter scratched the back of his neck and his voice went quiet.

"What? Sex?" MJ snickered.

"Yeah, whatever,"

"Oh c'mon, you can not be scared of the word sex,"

"I am not scared of it," Peter bluffed, the blush returning after only just fading.

"Say it,"

"Why,"

"Say it, Parker,"

"Why-" Peter was stopped by MJ standing in front of him, folding her arms over her chest and smiling annoyingly at him. "Michelle, C'mon,"

"Say it,"

"Alright, alright, fine," Peter looked around quickly to make sure no one was around before whispering. "Sex,"

"That's whispering," Michelle rolled her eyes. "Say it. Sex,"

"Sex," He spoke slightly louder.

"Sex," She overpowered him, once again. "Louder,"

"Sex,"

"Sex!"

"Michelle!" Peter's eyes widened and he looked around again. No one was around.

MJ laughed, shaking her head. "I don't get it, it's just a word. Get over it, virgin,"

"Don't pretend that you're not a virgin too," Peter rolled his eyes, beginning to walk back to the campsite.

"I'm not a virgin, I'm a half virgin,"

"What?"

"What,"

His brows knitted together and the hesitation radiated off him. Peter narrowed his eyes, thinking hard about what that could possibly mean. He never knew with MJ, she never joked but she never told the truth either. So what did that mean? Peter stopped his chain of thought before he opened a door he knew he would never be able to close.

"Anyway," Michelle spoke up. "There's nothing wrong with being a virgin. It's a stupid social construct made by men to demean women. You don't lose anything when you have sex for the first time and to think that's true only adds to the increasingly negative stigma around human sexuality,"

"So why do you claim to be a half virgin and also call me a virgin,"

"Because most people feel more comfortable with the label and I wasn't sure where you stood,"

"Oh, well, I dunno I've never really thought about it,"

"You don't really think, at all, Parker."