They told Ned. Even though Michelle insisted it was nothing (for Peter's sanity), they agreed that telling Ned was necessary. On the off chance that he was followed as well, they could at least warn him beforehand. As far as he was aware, however, he hadn't been followed at all that week.

Despite being followed by Jelly Man, classes continued as usual on Monday. Peter grumbled and by the time Michelle actually left for her morning class, he had checked the front door an uncountable amount of times.

"Call me, okay?" he murmured, snagging her hand before she could slip past him. "If anything weird happens at all."

"I will," she promised with a roll of her eyes. "Now let me go to class."

He did, but not without several more protests and offers to go with her.

Fortunately, Jelly Man did not make a reappearance. Michelle kept an eye out all day, but nothing was out of the ordinary. Even Tuesday passed without incident. When Wednesday passed without so much as a whisper of Jelly Man, Peter finally stopped grumbling.

"It was probably just a creepy old guy," Michelle said, combing her fingers through his hair.

Tucked away in Peter's room and huddled on his bed, Jelly Man was far from worrying her. With Peter's head buried in her chest and his arms wrapped around her as he dozed, she could easily believe it had just been a weirdo who wanted her number.

When Thursday rolled around, though, she was unfortunately proven wrong.

Jelly Man was parked beside her when she left the library late Thursday afternoon. At first glance, she hadn't thought anything about it. After a second look, however, she recognized him and stifled a curse.

He followed her. As soon as she started her car and pulled out of the university parking lot, his car was behind hers.

Cambridge wasn't nearly as big as New York and as such, it was more difficult to lose a tail. After ten minutes with no success, she reached for her phone to call Peter.

"Peter, I swear to god," she said when he didn't pick up, "answer your phone. He's back, okay? The guy from the store."

She turned down an unfamiliar street and took a quick left, only for Jelly Man's car to appear behind her a second later.

"This is me calling you," she said into her phone, "so you better call me back."

She hung up in favor of speeding through the neighborhood. Rather than park her car outside their home like usual, she ditched it a few houses down and sprinted into the house. Slamming the door behind her, she flicked the lock and tried calling Peter again.

When he didn't pick up, she cursed loudly and darted over to the garage door to lock it as well.

"If you don't call me in five minutes," she warned his voicemail, "I'm calling Stark. And you know how much I love doing that, Peter, so call me back, goddammit."

As she pressed the button to hang up, she darted up the stairs towards Peter's room. She knew where his suit was stored and she also knew that Stark was much more likely to answer a call from it than from her own cell.

With Jelly Man sitting in his car just out front, Michelle didn't want to wait five minutes before calling. The doors might be locked, but their house had a large front window that could easily be broken if Jelly Man was determined enough.

She had hardly pushed open the door to Peter's room when her eyes landed on a man rifling through his dresser.

The sound of the door opening was enough to draw his attention and before Michelle could slam it shut, he turned a gun on her. Her breath caught in her throat and she moved to step out of the room, but something blocked her path. Glancing behind her, Michelle turned to see a second man in the doorway and Ned's bedroom door now wide open.

"Any chance I can convince you that you're at the wrong house?" she asked, glancing between the two men. "No one interesting here, just three college―"

Doorway Man reached forward and smothered her words with a rag to her mouth, something that Michelle found both incredibly annoying and rude. Whatever he'd put on the rag, though, was more effective than any type of chloroform Michelle had read about because before the thought had even fully crossed her mind, she slumped forward and lost all train of thought.

* * * * *

Peter didn't like pop quizzes, but he liked voicemail messages even less. It was unfortunate he had both today. He got fewer voicemails than pop quizzes, but on the few chances he did, they never brought good news. Seeing two missed calls and two left voicemails from MJ, however, struck more fear into his heart than he would have expected.

He called her back without listening to either message. When she didn't answer, he tried again before finally listening to the messages she had left.

With a slew of curses, Peter raced to pull Ned away from Betty without much of an explanation.

"What the hell, man?" Ned whined, nearly tripping as Peter dragged him towards their car. "We were in the mid―"

"Someone followed MJ home." Peter let go of Ned and all but dove into the driver's seat. "She isn't answering her phone."

"Oh, shit," Ned muttered, scrambling to fasten his seatbelt and Peter raced out of the parking lot.

They arrived home in record time. The car had barely even turned off before Peter plowed through the front door, accidentally pulling it from its hinges in his race to find MJ.

"MJ!" he yelled, setting the door against the wall. "Em!"

He shot up the stairs, but even before he looked in any of their rooms, he knew they'd be empty. Despite his own heart thumping loudly in his ears, he couldn't hear MJ's. Aside from Ned's breathing and fretful searching downstairs, the house was silent.

"MJ, come on," he whispered, throwing open her bedroom door. Empty.

In a panic, he checked Ned's bedroom next door. Also empty. As he reached to check in his room, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled and his stomach dropped. Anxiety crawled across his chest, fuzzing his thoughts as he twisted the doorknob and peered into his empty room.

Empty, but not undisturbed like MJ's and Ned's rooms had been.

His dresser had been rifled through and after a quick check, Peter sighed in relief when he spotted his suit still buried inside. Unfortunately, that was only a small reassurance.

On the floor, MJ's phone had been kicked under his desk, the screen cracked. He could pick up on a faint, yet unfamiliar cologne and knew she hadn't just been followed home but followed inside. Up to his room, even.

If she'd been in his room when someone attacked, she had to have been going for his suit. It would explain why his drawer was open, but even in a panic, she wouldn't have tossed his clothes around. She knew exactly where he kept it and wouldn't have made a mess, which meant whoever had been after her had to have been the one looking for the suit.

"Hey," Ned said, stopping in his doorway, "I know this probably isn't ideal, but FRIDAY must have told Mr. Stark about your speeding, because―well..."

He moved aside and Tony stepped into view, arms folded across his chest and looking fully prepared to scold Peter for getting home in seven minutes instead of fifteen. When he saw Peter with MJ's cracked phone in his hand and his disastrous dresser, however, his expression changed.

"Hey, kid," he said carefully, glancing between Peter and his disorganized dresser. "FRIDAY said something happened, so how 'bout you give me the rundown, yeah?"

"MJ." Peter's voice cracked and his vision began to blur a bit as he said, "Someone took MJ."