“It’s simple,” MJ said, jabbing her joint at him to indicate she wanted him to take a puff. Peter waved it off, which MJ treated as a game, trying to prod through his defenses. “Women are naturally more compassionate than men. When we get superpowers, we use them to help people. Hence, we’re superheroes. Men get superpowers, rob banks, try to blow up New York, supervillains. Even those women who are selfish, most of them shape up after a little therapy. Femininity’s natural love and acceptance for all humanity shines through.”
Peter relented, snatching the joint from Mary Jane’s hand. “I’m pretty sure I saw you punch a guy in the dick seven times yesterday. It was on the news.”
“Doesn’t count, Deadpool. That guy is so annoying. We get it, chimichangas, it was funny the first one billion times…”
“We have chimichangas?” Gwen asked, coming through the door. As always, her bookbag thudded when it hit the floor, overburdened with loot from the New York Public Library.
“We have beer, chips, and pizza with pineapple that no one is energetic enough to pick off,” Peter reported.
“But we have beer,” Mary Jane added, twisting up with her superior agility to perch on the arm of the couch and return Gwen’s greeting kiss.
Peter conscientiously looked away, casting a look at his textbook that perhaps Gollum would’ve directed at the One Ring.
Gwen laughed sweetly as she slid down beside MJ. “Peter, you don’t have to look away when I kiss my girlfriend.”
Peter looked back at her, assuming that since she was talking, she couldn’t be kissing. “I just don’t want you guys to feel uncomfortable. You shouldn’t worry about being perved at in your own home.”
“But there wasn’t even tongue!” MJ retorted. “If you could get off on that peck, I would take it as a compliment.”