its 4am and my eyes cant seem to close

I’m building worlds so real, I feel it in my bones

[arachbite]

follow like a dog in the summer

pairing: tasm! Peter Parker x reader (any peter could work actually but i wrote this with tasm in mind) 2.5k words

summary: You spam Peter’s messages while he’s out, then feel horrible about it.

cw: mentions of a bruise (spider-man typical), kissing, mentions of the F.E.A.S.T. Charity May works at in the MCU/Insomniac games

🕸️๋࣭ ⭑༄—

New York in July is sweltering, the heat of the sun coming down and trapping itself amongst the busy bodies moving from place to place. Most people are outside because they have places to be, things to do, or because the cost of running the air conditioner on the whole day is higher than catching the free breeze.

Peter is outside because he, like the busy goers of New York, has a job to do that even the rising temperatures can’t stop. Crime doesn’t stop just cause it gets hot, thieves just steal wearing tank tops.

But you’re part of the group suffering the heat indoors. The window is thrown open, air blowing through every now and then but never enough to bring comfort. You could go outside, go to the park where the air is cooler and the world feels alive, but you don’t do that because walking to the park means enduring the sun and taking the subway means spending cash (and Peter wouldn’t approve of jumping the turnstiles). So you stay flopped on your bed, limbs listlessly sprawled out.

Beside you is your phone, still on and running hot from its own brightness. On the screen, a wall of texts from you to Peter. Like a one way glass. Frowning, you turn on your side and scroll through the jumble of words again.

You still coming over?

I made sandwiches

Cut the crusts so u don’t complain

Make sure u bring ur scientific calculator

Im gonna start studying without u then ur gonna be cooked

Jk but hurry or else i’ll fall asleep waiting for u

Im guessing you’re out

Doing… bug stuff

Wink wink! :-)

That’s ok!!!!

Just was curious

Let me know though if you need anything

Just checking on you

Making sure ur not dead or whatever

Sorry for spam lol

You shut your phone off and turn your face into the mattress groaning. You didn’t mean to say… so much. God, his notifications must be filled by your ramblings.

This wasn’t… you. You think.

You weren’t that kind of girlfriend. You don’t follow Peter like a dumb puppy, waiting with bated breath for a glance. Your stomach churns, chest tightening as the words tumble around the cavern of your mind.

But that wasn’t what this strange feeling was, feeling needy. No, you didn’t feel needy. You feel… selfish. Selfish for asking for so much from someone so selfless. He was out there risking his life, saving others, while you lazed about.

Peter was the most selfless person you knew, probably the most selfless person to ever walk this horribly unjust world. You’re upset for him, at the world for being so slanted that Peter needed to tilt it back with his own hands, and mostly upset at yourself that you could hardly stand three hours without him.

It was selfish, poking and preening at him, pulling his attention for your own comfort.

The room is silent aside from your breathing, then suddenly a little thwip! Its far off and if you weren’t so tuned in you’d have missed it.

But surely enough, he’s here.

Peter lands onto your fire escape and wastes no time crawling in and rolling onto your bedrooms floor. His breathing is steady but he was clearly exhausted. Lazily he shrugs his backpack off his shoulder and tosses it to his side on the floor.

“Hey sweetheart.” Peter greets, voice breathy. You pull yourself up and off the bed in half shock to look down at him. “Hey,” you reply.

Like second nature, your eyes are scanning his body for injuries and are pleased to find there are none.

At least until his spandex clad hands reach up and remove his mask, revealing a splotchy yellow patch blooming across the right side of his face. The horrid thing is placed just on top of his beautiful cheek and your entire face crumples.

“It’s nothing,” Peter says immediately, sitting up. You’ve already plopped yourself down to join him on the floor.

“Nothing else?” You ask and Peter nods, a small smile on his face. As if he should be thankful in this circumstance.

“Just this baby, nothing else,” Peter, much too kind and too honest, affirms and you relax slightly.

Your hands trail up and tilt his head to look at the forming bruise, and Peter the saint lets you. You’re sure he’d let you throw him off the fucking Brooklyn bridge if you wanted, because he was just that good. He was just that wonderful.

You want to smother him in kisses, want to go away for ever and never touch him again. You frown at the thought, and your chest tightens seeing him like this.

Peter notices, cause of course he does.

“It’ll heal in an hour or two I swear. No biggie,” Peter chides, voice light and airy like a breeze.

He brings his other hand up to cup your face instead, and leans in for a kiss but tou turn your face away, embarrassed.

Peters light grin drops l and now you’ve made things worse.

“Is this… is this because I didn’t reply to you?”

Immediately you pull away from him and stand up.

God, he must think you’re being so childish because in truth you perhaps were. But the strange feeling had rooted itself into you and now you cant let it go. You pad around his form and head for the door.

“I’ll get you an icepack for that.”

“Wait, hold on—“

In an instant Peter’s up and after you, following you down the hall.

You reach your kitchen, it was modest but always had some sort of ice pack ready for Peter. A thought lingers in your mind that maybe the icepacks mightve melted in the heat. You barely make it to the fridge before Peter’s right behind you.

“Is it that? I’m sorry. I wanted to, I promise. I was just a little occupied y’know. I meant to reply I really did—“

You turn to face him because he deserves that much, and his voice is so soft coming from a face so battered. It tears at your heart.

“It’s not that Peter, it’s not you.”

“Then what? Why are you upset sweetheart?”

For a beat you’re quiet as the words take their shape and Peter watches you patiently.

“I feel… bad.”

Peter blinks, mouth falling open and you can tell his brain is running through a million scenarios. “Like, how bad? Time of the month bad?”

Finally a smile bursts across your face and Peter’s posture relaxes almost immediately. Like a flower when the sun comes out from behind a cloud, all smiles and brightness. He laughs too.

“Peter—“

“What? If it’s that, that’s okay. I can give you space. I’m cool with that.”

“It’s not that,” you say, looking away sheepishly. “Bad like, selfish bad.” Peter’s brow furrows at your words.

“It’s just that… I felt so stupid. Waiting around for you, thinking about you, while you were outside in the middle of a fucking heatwave saving old ladies from burning buildings or whatever.”

“I did no such thing, I’d be more charred if I did” Peter adds but you shush him.

“It made me feel stupid. Like, how could I do that? Bother you for answers when I was sat at home. You save peoples lives. I’m…” you trail off, looking at the ceiling, the walls, the lint on the couch. Anywhere but at Peter.

“…I felt stupid.”

Peter turns on his heel abruptly, steps quick down the hall and back to your room.

You weren’t expecting that reaction.

Quickly you follow after him, stopping at the doorway. There he was, red and blue crouched by his backpack and hands swiping along his phone.

“Peter what are you—“

“This is what you think being selfish is?”

His voice is quick, sharp in the way that wasn’t angry but left no room to argue.

“Asking me where I was when I was late? Checking on me? Making sure I wasn’t dead?” Theres now almost a laugh to his words, like he couldn’t even fathom the concept you had been so stuck on.

“You remember I don’t like crusts on my sandwiches. That’s selfish to you?”

Peter looks up at you from his place on the floor, on his knees with his phone in his lap. He was bathed in the afternoons warm light, sun outlining his figure. The lighting made him seem like some battered angel, the sight made you weak in the knees.

“Compared to you I just thought—“

“Well don’t compare yourself to me. There’s probably some surgeon out there, or some therapist, who’d saved more lives than I have. But that doesn’t matter, doesn’t make me any less important, or take away from the people I do help. You aren’t selfish, farthest thing from it.”

Peter stands now, and the minute he’s up you surge forward.

You kiss him there because you believe him, because the genius that he was, made sense. At least you loved him enough to believe him, loved him enough to let that love guide the rest of your actions regardless. If Peter of all people thinks you’re good, then you must be.

You pull away from the kiss but Peter’s snaked his arms around you and placed one so softly to your cheek. He tugs you back and this time you let him. He doesn’t quite kiss you again, more so nuzzling himself into you as his other hand keeps you there. It feels maybe even more intimate than kissing, just to be close like that.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, “I was being stupid.”

“No you weren’t,” Peter replies half a whisper, “you’re perfect as you are, sweet girl.” He says and you smile, face scrunching and he giggles giddy. Like he was proud to get that from you.

“You know,” you say tilting your head into his hands, “you should probably change now. You must be hot.”

Peter gives you a funny look and you pull away from him, face falling flat.

“I mean temperature wise! From all the hero stuff and spandex wearing,” you grumble, walking around him and toward your still very open window. “You should be thankful we’re on the fourth floor and that nobody just saw me making out with Spider-Man.”

Peter shrugs. “Would’ve been worth it.”

“No it wouldn’t,” you reprimand. You tug the blinds down and as soon as you do Peter slinks out of his suit. “Shower?” He asks amongst the shuffling sounds.

“Yeah you need one.”

“No,” now it was his turn to refute with a grin to his voice, “I mean, shower with me?”

Peter’s half way out of his suit now and you avert your gaze. It’s nothing you haven’t seen, if anything you’ve seen more. He’s literally asking you to shower together, but still. Doesn’t matter how many times you’ve seen it nothing makes the sight of his toned abs ‘casual’ to a freak like you.

“It’ll save us the water bill, plus we get to cool off.” Peter says removing the last of himself from his suit, leaving him in a pair of shorts.

“That is a good point.”

“Yeah it is, come on bub.”

—

As always, Peter was right. It cooled you pff immensely. Stepping out of the shower was heavenly, the chill of the water making the room feel colder than it actually was.

Now you’re sat on the edge of the bed towel drying your hair as a shirtless Peter rifles through his stack of clean clothes for a shirt. He settles for a navy one with ‘I wear this shirt periodically’ written below an image of the periodic table. Its worn and has a tiny hole near the bottom but Peter still likes it well enough.

“You know that thing your aunt’s been doing?”

Peter hums as he slips his shirt on. “The yoga thing or the other thing?”

“The charity thing,” you snort at him. “The uhh… what was it called again?”

You stand and pad over to the dirty laundry basket in your room and drop your towel in. Now clothed too, Peter sits down on the bed and pretends to think. His hair was still wet and sat on his forehead in a way that made him look boyishly cute. The bruise from before was still there, darkening, but Peter reassured you it’ll be gone by morning. Hardly even felt it.

“The F.E.A.S.T. Center?”

“Yeah! That one.” You smile, stopping in front of him and slotting yourself nicely between his legs. Your hands loop around him to play with the hair at the nape of his neck and he sits lazily.

“I think I’ll head down there later, or tomorrow. I want to be helpful.”

Peter quirks a brow at you, as if in thought, but the look is quickly replaced by an easy expression. “That’s nice. Want me to give May a heads up?”

You nod your head and move to sit beside him. “Sure, but you don’t have to. She doesn’t need to babysit me.”

“Babysit? Honey, she’d be ecstatic to have you around.”

You feel the urge to lay down, but as your hair was still damp you opt to stay as you are and instead focus your gaze on Peter. “Okay, if you say so. Just let her know I’m interested in lending a hand. Anything. I can go after class most days if I’m not busy.”

Peter quiets for a moment as you look at him, he opens his mouth to say something but stops halfway. You watch him decide what to say, now being on the other end left to sit patiently.

“This doesn’t mean you’ll be texting me less, will it?”

You laugh and Peter looks so earnest you feel a little bad. He makes an exasperated sort of noise. “You’re laughing but I mean it! Cause y’know, you said—“

“I’ll still text you Peter. We’re still dating,” you coo and he pokes at your side, earning a small yelp from you. You settle again and continue, as Peter listens on.

“It’s just that, I hated that feeling of not doing anything. Hated just being someone who waited around. I realized while you were scrubbing my back in the shower that I should probably do something about it.”

Peter looks at you now and its difficult to describe the extent of his expression. It was soft, but careful. Thoughtful in how he presented himself.

“You were never selfish though, you know that right? I want you to understand that. You don’t have to prove a point of it— not that I don’t think you should volunteer! Just that, you shouldn’t just be doing it to prove something that’s already true.”

“I know,” you huff, looking away, but Peter tugs your hand into his and so your eyes meet once again.

“I just want to know I’m doing my best too. It’ll give me some peace of mind I think.” You admit. “Okay sweetheart. That’s good.” Peter says, satisfied. His thumb brushes over your hand absentmindedly.

“…but you’ll still text right?”

You burst out into another fit of laughter, pulling him closer so you could litter kisses along his face, although Peter’s brows remain furrowed.

“What? You may be a generous saint but I am not. I am allowed to be a little selfish.”

—

Ty for reading! Peter requests are open btw!