Baby Penguins and Popping Legs | p.b.p.
Pairing: college!Peter Parker x fem!reader
Excerpt: âPeter Parker, the lovely guy with a kind word for everyone, was alone. Even when he was with other people, he was alone. And it wasnât a normal loneliness, oh no: it came from within, the way monsters of the past did, ready to jump at his throat at the smallest display of weakness.â
Word Count: 8.977k
Warnings: English not being my first language, possible typos, fluff, a bit of angst, silly dialogues, throwing up (not graphical), NWH spoilers, Tom!Peter (aged up)
A/n: And here it is! My Valentine gift for you (one day late bc itâs me)! Written for @venomsilkâs Valentine Bingo~ thank you for giving me the occasion to write this đđđ I received Card 1 - SFW and I went with the third vertical row (college + bed sharing + meet ugly). Happy (belated) Valentineâs day to you all, and I hope you enjoy this!
Penguin Crush Masterlist
Peter Parker Masterlist
General Masterlist
You winked at Mira from across the over-crowded room. The guy she was talking to was completely mesmerized by her, and rightly so. She looked like a goddess, the accent of gold you had put above her eyeliner wing bringing out the little flecks in her eyes.
You raised your cup with a proud nod of your head: the poor girl deserved a break. And, in all honesty, you did, too. The latest group project had been â to say it nicely â an absolute fucking nightmare, with the two of you ending up doing all the work and the other three assholes making a fool of themselves in front of the whole class, because they couldnât even be bothered to take a quick look at the part of presentation that had been prepared for them â that you and Mira had prepared for them â, leaving you and your friend to pick up the pieces and save the situation.
So, even if you werenât that much of a social animal, you had accepted to go with her at the party in what was commonly known as the Osborn dorm.
Bringing the cup to your lips, you realized your drink â a sad and plain water because you were a sad and plain lightweight â was almost finished, so you made your way through the crowd, heading towards the kitchen and finding it surprisingly empty... except for one person, a guy with his back turned to the entrance.
Your heart leaped in your throat: you wouldâve recognized those curls anywhere, since you kept staring at them almost everyday in class.
Mira had mentioned that he might have been there tonight, and you wouldâve lied if youâd said that wasnât one of the main reasons that convinced you to go. And she knew you well enough to know that giving you that information from the very beginning would be a winning strategy.
You had no idea how, but Peter Parker seemed to sense your presence despite the music covering almost every other sound and he turned around so quickly you almost lost track of his movements. âOh!â, he gasped.
He was dressed in the same way he would dress everyday to attend class, with jeans and a plaid shirt over a t-shirt with a pun on it. Mira would occasionally make fun of them, but you found them cute. Today, it was an art one, with a pizza drawn like the Vitruvian Man. Your favourite so far, probably.
Peter ran a hand through his hair, trying, and failing, to push back the rebel lock that would always fall back on his forehead. âHi!â His rosy cheeks and nose told you that he had probably been drinking a bit, but overall he looked like he was doing okay.
âH-hi!â
âHi...â, he repeated, shooting you a breath-taking smile. âIâm Petââ That was all he managed to let out because, next thing you knew, he was hunched over, one hand on his knee and the other one resting on the wall, throwing up everything he had in his stomach.
âHoly shit!â You jumped back at the sudden turn of events, scared and a bit disgusted, but concern washed over you immediately after, so you rushed to his side to help him, grabbing his arm so that he wouldnât lose his balance. Your free hand went to support his forehead, moving the loose curls out of the way. âHow much did you drink?!â
To his credit, he did try to answer you, but he just couldnât, too busy pouring his soul out on the alcohol-stained floor.
You tried to keep calm, but deep down you were panicking, and it felt like being trampled by a bunch of runaway horses. However, you never let go of Peter, not even when your arms started to hurt, not even when, right after the vomiting stopped, he literally slouched on you with his eyes closed, in a way that made you fear he was about to faint.
You gasped, the unexpected weight of his body threatening to make you fall. âItâs okay, itâs okay...â, you said, talking to yourself more than to him. âYouâre okay, I got you.â
The poor guy just hummed against your ear and you sighed in relief: it wasnât much, but at least he wasnât unconscious.
âOkay, I must get you away from hereâ, you shouted, throwing his arm on your shoulders and wrapping yours around his torso, another completely unexpected detail distracting you for a spilt-second.
You had noticed his arms before, and Mira had spent an entire afternoon teasing you after hearing your first comment about them.
âYou bet heâs great at giving hugs?â
âWhat?â You muttered, purposely ignoring her knowing look, and instead focusing on getting her eyeliner done. âI wouldnât mind being cuddled by him.â
âHe does give off extremely cuddly Golden Retriever vibesâ, she conceded.
âSo whatâs wrong with me wanting to hug him?â
âNothing, sweetieâ, your friend said with a reassuring tone, looking at you like she was staring at a kitten. âItâs just... youâre so cuteâ, she gushed. âA hug is not the very first thing I think of when looking at a guyâs arms, you know?â
âIâm touch-starved, okay?â, you pouted.
âTouch... girl, youâre the perfect combination between a hedgehog and a porcupine that got high on a cactusâ, Mira countered. âYou despise the idea of people touching you.â To furthermore prove her point, she lightly pinched your hip, snickering when you flinched and scrunched your nose at her.
âMira! The eyeliner!â, you scolded her. Thankfully, she had caused no damage. âYou can be a real pain in the ass sometimes.â
She smirked, blowing you a kiss. âItâs part of my charm. But you see what I mean? Youâre worseââ
âYeah, yeah, I get it. Worse than my catâ, you cut her off. âBut I... I get the feeling it would make him blush and get all giggly...â, you explained, already starting to beam like an idiot as you pictured the scene in your mind. âI wanna make him blush and get all giggly...â
Mira clicked her tongue in fake annoyance, this time doing her best not to move too much. âOh God... spare me.â
But you were already getting lost in your daydream to care. âI wanna count his frecklesss!!!â, you whined. âAnd pinch his cheeks andââ
âGive him the best head of his life, I get it, I get it.â
... but there seemed to be something more because apparently, he wasnât as skinny as he looked, always covered with those sweaters and flannels that were too big for him...
Fuck, y/n! This is not the time!
You considered moving him to the garden, but it was freezing and you had no idea where his coat was. In his state, you knew he wouldnât have been of any help in trying to find it and you didnât want him to catch a cold. Plus, he probably needed to lay down, drink a lot of water and rest for a while.
So, you eventually guided him out of the kitchen and dragged him up the stairs, your yelled comforting words gradually lowering as the boomy music got more and more muffled, until they quieted down to soft whispers.
âTrust me, youâre gonna be fine, okay Peter?â, you mumbled encouragingly, rubbing his back in gentle motions, while you tried to find an empty room, the unequivocal moans alternated with loud snores not really making the task easier.
Peter sniffed the air a few times, like something was bothering him.
âYou need to stop for a second?â, you offered, apprehension lacing your tone.
He just nodded and you stopped helping him lean back against the wall.
âEverything okay?â
Peter scrunched up his nose, narrowing his gaze, those adorable little wrinkles that lived in your mind rent-free forming at the side of his eyes. âYou smell...â He stopped for a second, studying you attentively, like he was looking for the right adjective. â... weird.â
âW-well, Iââ
âI donât like it.â
You were absolutely taken aback by that, your mouth dropping open in embarrassment and dismay. What a lovely first interaction with your crush. That perfume... you had picked it out just for him... only for him to tell you that you stank. âOh...â
Fighting the urge to sniff your wrists to check how disastrous the situation was, you attempted a chuckle but it came out weak and dry. Right now, you just wanted to do the opposite and bawl your eyes out. âO-okay...â
Peter tilted his head to the side, a blissful smile on his lips as he closed his eyes and relaxed against the wall. But then he immediately jumped up, almost giving you a heart attack. âNonononono wait!â, he blabbered, grabbing your outstretched hands not to fall. âItâs your perfume, I meant your perfume!â, he rushed to explain, causing you to blink in confusion, wondering why he felt the need to specify that, because what else could âYou smell weird. I donât like itâ mean?
Oh God, was he implying that you smelled like you hadnât showered?
âItâs your perfume thatâs bad, your skin smells amazing!!!â, Peter yelled, distracting you from that trainwreck of thoughts.
âWhaâhow the fuck do you know how my skin smells?!â, you questioned. If his previous words had been confusing, you had no idea how to describe these new ones.
âI have a fifth sense!â, he whispered, tapping the tip of his nose.
You opened your mouth to reply â what exactly, you didnât know â but something, or rather someone, cut you off before you could even speak.
âDude, what kinda weird sex ritual is that supposed to be?â
Your head whipped in the direction of that voice, only to find Harry Osborn standing a few feet away from you, a cup in his hand and a shit-eating grin on his face.
âHe said sexâ, Peter giggled like a school-girl.
Harry ignored him. âAre you into this, y/n?â, he asked you mockingly. âAre you gonna chop his head off once youâre done?â
âYouâre not helping, Osbornâ, you hissed, but it didnât seem to impress him.
âWasnât trying toâ, he replied plainly, taking a sip of his drink. âHave fun with your weird sex.â
âSexâ, Peter repeated. âYes, I like sex. Sex is fun.â
âHeâs shit-faced!â, you pointed out with horrified indignation on behalf of the drunk boy next to you.
âI havenât done much of it, but Iâd love to do moreââ
Harry just shrugged. âA condition that never stopped me. Thatâs actually when I perform at my best.â
âSo, youâre telling me that you need to get into an altered state to know what a clit even is?â, you asked, venom dripping from your every word.
âI know what a clit is!â Peter announced proudly, and you just knew, even without looking at him, that he had that impossibly adorable expression he had whenever heâd give an answer in class. It went without saying that it was always the correct one. âAnd even where it is!â
Harry brought a hand to his chest, his smirk faltering a little. â... that hurt, y/n.â
âI can show you, if you wantââ
âGoodâ, you dead-panned, trying not to let your thoughts linger on what Peter just said. âNow, kindly fuck off if you canât help me.â
You faced him again and he was already staring at you with a dopey smile.
âFuck. You said fuckâ, he told you, like he was spilling a secret. âYou look cute when you say fuck.â
You were just about to say something, but, for the second time that night, Harry interrupted you. âLast room on the left.â
You gave him an interrogative look.
âItâs mineâ, he explained casually. âYouâre lucky, I changed the sheets this morning.â
You furrowed your brows. Harry wasnât a complete asshole, but he wasnât exactly the most generous person you knew either, so it was fair to say that that sudden kindness was taking you by surprise. âAnd where are you going to sleep?â
The grin reappeared on his lips and he ran a hand through his hair. âBold of you to assume I wanna sleep, lovie.â
You rolled your eyes at the pet-name as he began to make his way towards the stairs, but a sense of regret for your mean words caught up with you. You bit the inside of your cheek. âHarry...â, you called, then waited for him to turn around.
âMh?â
â... thank you.â
Harry winked, raising his cup at you and Peter. âCheers!â Then he downed what remained of his drink in one-go and resumed walking away.
âOkay...â Finally, you returned your full attention to Peter, who was looking at you expectantly like an excited puppy. And you noticed that, despite the support of the wall, he was still holding your wrist, his delicate touch on your skin making your cheeks and ears heat up.
But you got out of that moment, and reminded yourself what you were actually doing, so you guided him to Harryâs room, shutting the door behind you, the mess you found inside not being a surprise to you. But at least, the bed was made. Not in the best way, sure, but it was and it even looked clean.
A positive thing, right?
âCareful...â, you warned Peter, slowly helping him towards the bed. âHere you go... just sit down, okay?â
With a pained groan, he plopped down on the mattress, resting his elbows on his knees, shoulders and head sinking in exhaustion.
You stared at him for a moment, your hand itching to caress his curls, but you decided against it. âIâm gonna go get you some water.â
âNO!â, Peter screamed, scaring the shit out of you. He grabbed your wrists just like he had done before, giving you an imploring look. âDonât go! Itâs too dangerous!â
âPeterâ, you attempted to calm him. âIâll be back in a secondââ
The desperation in his eyes quickly turned into confusion. âHow do you know my name?!â And then, said confusion merged into panic. âShit!â, Peter yelped, his voice going up an octave. âHow did you find out?!â
âPeter, weâre in the same classââ
He shook his head frantically, closing his eyes when the motion gave him a headache. âIâm not Peter!â
You kept quiet for a while, not really knowing how to reply. â... okay?â
âIâm Spider-Man.â
âSure you areâ, you snorted.
Peterâs eyes shot open again, and holy shit did the boy look offended. âItâs true!â He made a motion with his right hand, pointing it towards the wall with his palm facing up, the gesture reminding you of the way to say âI love youâ in sign language. âLook! Psst! Psst! Psst!â
Nothing happened and he frowned, observing his naked wrist like there was something wrong with it. He tried with his other hand. Still nothing.
âShit, they donât work...â, he muttered in disappointment, then looked back at you. âBut I am Spider-Man, I swear!â
âAnything you say, PetâSpider-Manâ, you smiled, correcting yourself last-second.
âItâs fineâ, he slurred, returning your smile... but kinda overdoing it: the corners of his mouth raising so much that he almost closed his eyes. âYou can call me Peter. Just because I like youâ, he conceded, but suddenly brought his finger to his lips. âBut donât tell my Guy in the Chair.â
You solemnly traced an imaginary âxâ on our mouth. âI promise I wonât.â
âGoodâ, Peter nodded, positively impressed by your loyalty. âBecause he would be dead jealous.â
You bit down on your lip lightly, an idea you hadnât took into consideration forming in your mind at his words. âIs he your boyfriend?â, you asked cautiously.
âHe is... was my best friendâ, he specified, frowning a little, like something crossed his mind. But he dismissed it immediately. âBut I have to admit: he is cute.â
A wave of relief washed over you, even though it was not definitive. Sure, he had told you that he wasnât romantically involved with this guy, but he didnât go into the details. As far as you knew, there couldâve been someone else. But at the same time, him not saying anything else gave you a semblance of hope: maybe it meant that there wasnât anyone else? But then again, he was drunk enough to firmly believe he was Spider-Man, so...
âThe room is spinningâ, Peter pointed out, taking a look around and bringing you back to reality. âIs this your house? You have a spinning house?â
âYes, I designed it myself.â
âThatâs so cool!!!â
You scanned the room, hoping that Harry could have some unopened water bottle lying around. Lucky for you â maybe the universe was trying to help you, after all â, he did, and you immediately grabbed it, silently apologized to its owner, and offered it to Peter, who impressively downed it in one go. Not without thanking you first, of course: even drunk, he still conserved his polite manners.
Good. Hydration? Done. Now, a lot of rest.
âDo you want to lay down?â, you asked, taking the now empty bottle from his hands. âHereâ, you patted the mattress. âCâmon.â
âWait.â
âWhat is it?â
Peter tugged at the collar of his t-shirt, but when you didnât seem to understand, he explained what he meant. âI donât have my pajamas with me.â
âOh, itâs not a problemâ, you reassured him. âJust take off your shoes.â
He took a moment to process your suggestion, then simply did as you told him.
Surprised by how smoothly things were going, you went to throw away the bottle, but as soon as you turned around whatever you were planning to say next got reduced to an incoherent mixture of sounds. âWhat are you doing?!â
You had no idea how he couldâve done it so rapidly, but Peter had already removed his plaid shirt, which had been carelessly thrown on the chair, and he was just in the middle of finishing to do the same thing with his pants. âJeans are uncomfortable to sleep inâ, he stated, completely unfazed by your reaction, and by the fact that he was left in his t-shirt, underwear and socks. It was like he wasnât even realizing it.
You were left speechless until he pointed at your dress, no trace of malice in his voice. âThat looks pretty uncomfortable, too.â
Trying to overcome the embarrassment, you forced out a nervous laugh. âOh, it really isnâtâwhat the fuck?!â
He didnât. He fucking didnât.
His t-shirt was now covering your whole head like a bridal veil, the delicate scent of his cologne invading your nostrils...
You took it off to protest and immediately regretted doing it, the sight in front of you hitting you like a punch in the gut and making breath itch in your throat.
The young man in front of you looked like heâd literally just been carved out of a marble block. The dim light of the bedside lamp followed the well-defined shape of his broad shoulders, it traced the outline of his muscle onto the smooth skin, like a chisel moving on its own account to give life to a perfect Renaissance sculpture.
You gulped, totally absorbed in contemplation and Peter scooted back a little until he was sitting in the middle of the bed with his legs crossed. âYou can use it.â
âW-what for?â
âSleepingâ, he replied like it was obvious.
âI donât need toââ
âAre you leaving?â, he asked in all seriousness. Or at least, all the seriousness his drunk state could allow him.
Your answer, or rather lack of told him everything you needed to know. âWhy?â, he murmured weakly. âPlease, stay with me.â
Your hands clenched onto the soft fabric like it was a rope and you were about to fall into the void. âPeter, I really shouldnât...â, you tried to reason with him.
Your most rational part told you that it was probably the overabundance of alcohol in his system talking through him and causing all that sudden sadness... and yet there was something in his eyes. Something that silently captured yours, making its way into the deepest part of your soul and grabbing your heart in its hold.
It wasnât your first time seeing it: whenever he thought no one was paying attention to him, the light in his eyes would die out, eclipsed by a melancholy that made his happy façade crack. You did pay attention, though. You always did.
Peter Parker, the lovely guy with a kind word for everyone, was alone. Even when he was with other people, he was alone. And it wasnât a normal loneliness, oh no: it came from within, the way monsters of the past did, ready to jump at his throat at the smallest display of weakness.
His eyes watered with tears and he outstretched his hand for you to take. He looked lost, frightened even, as he repeated your name, voice barely louder than a whisper. âPlease.â
You sighed, giving in. â... okay.â
âYaaaaay!!!â, Peter exulted in a complete shift of emotions, throwing his hands up in the air and agitating them in every direction. âThis is the best party ever! Psst! Psst! Psst! Psst! Fuck, I really need to fix these things...â
âRightâ, you went along. âWhile you... fix themâ â whatever that means â âIâm gonna go change. Iâll be right back.â
Luckly, he didnât protest, so you grabbed your purse and locked yourself in the bathroom, leaning against the door as you stared at your reflection in the mirror.
What the Hell are you doing, y/n?
You took your sweet time in there, removing your make up, brushing your teeth â you thanked your past self for making the wise decision of always carrying make-up wipes and a travel toothbrush in your bag, just in case of emergency â, and washing your face as calmly as you could, like everything was perfectly fine.
Like your crush wasnât right on the other side of the door in just his underwear and socks, waiting for you to change into his shirt to sleep next to you, sharing the same bed.
Holy shit...
When you came back, tugging onto the hem of the shirt to make sure it covered you enough, you found Peter jumping onto the bed like a little kid, the difficulty of movement from before nowhere to be seen. âHa!â, he exclaimed, making poses and uncoordinated combat moves, his curls bouncing wildly at his every movement. âWho are you calling little kid now, huh, Mr. Falcon?!â
Itâs like watching a baby penguin tripping over his own feet...
He dodged another imaginary blow, then shoot another imaginary web at another imaginary enemy. âBet you werenât expecting that, Mr. Winter Soldier!â
God, I love this idiot.
âThis will teach you!â He was charging his new attack when he noticed you standing there by the door. âOh, you look so pretty!â
âThanks...â, you smiled shyly, leaving your dress on the chair, on top of Peterâs clothes, and placing your shoes on the floor. âAre you feeling any better?â
âYes! Iâm winning! Just like in Berlin!â, he announced proudly, but he stopped all at once, creases forming on his forehead as other memories returned to him. â... wait, I didnât win back then, did I? ... that fucking little wingy robot bitch yeeted me through the glass roof...â There was a bit of resentment in his voice, but his words made so little sense than they made maintaining a straight face extremely hard for you. âBut, hadnât it been for that, I wouldâve won!â
âI believe youâ, you nodded. âBut maybe itâs better if you lay down? For real, this time.â
âBut those two...â
âThey look pretty beaten-up to meâ, you finished his sentence, getting on the bed and standing next to him to lay a hand on his shoulder. âSee?â, you gestured, trying to sound convincing. âTheyâre retiring.â
âOh, youâre right...â, he agreed, then he raised his hand and...
Was he really making the âWhatever-You-Massive-Loserâ gesture from Camp Rock?
âSuck on that, you losers!â, Peter yelled, confirming your doubts. The overflowing enthusiasm took a toll on him, what little remained of his balance vanishing into thin air and his legs giving up under his weight.
âBe careful!â Moving on instinct to help him, you ended up meeting his same fate as you both fell back on the bed, your hands still holding his arm.
Peter didnât even bat an eye, still busy gloating about his victory. He seemed good.
And despite the initial fear, you were good, too. Thankfully, neither of you had hit the wall with your heads or any of your limbs, nor had you fallen off, so it had been harmless. But it was always better to be sure. âAre you okay?â
âHeroes never get hurtâ, he said, taking his eyes off of the ceiling to look at you and making finger guns. âAnd friendly neighbourhood super-heroes even less.â
âRight.â You let go of his arm, fixing your-his shirt to cover your thighs. âBecause youâre Spider-Man.â
He blinked a few times. âHow do you know?â
âI have a fifth sense that allows me to read mindsâ, you joked, tapping your temple to imitate him, but you doubted he would remember what he had told you in the hallway. And it turned out you were right: he didnât remember, your latest shocking revelation being the only thing dominating his thoughts.
âOh my God, really?â, he marvelled, covering his mouth with a hand. âWhat am I thinking now?â
âThat youâre Spider-Man.â
âNo way!!!â He got so excited that he sat up, mouth forming a perfect âOâ and eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. âYouâre really good!â
You prompted yourself up on your elbows, releasing a quiet giggle. âWhat can I say? Itâs a talent of mine.â
âYou should make a business out of itâ, Peter told you seriously.
Staring back at him with puckered lips, you fidgeted with your hands, mostly picking at your nails, to keep them busy from grabbing his face and pulling him in to cover his cheeks in kisses. âIâll keep that in mind.â
âBut please donât tell anyone, okay?â
âOkayâ, you confirmed.
âPinky promise?â, he asked you, offering you his little finger.
You sat up too and were about to cross your legs when you remembered what you were wearing, so you settled for resting your back against the headboard and interlocked your little finger with his. âPinky promise.â
âGreat.â His satisfied smile faded away as he tilted his head to the side, inspecting your hands. â... what are we promising?â
It took everything in you not to boop his adorable red nose and to keep a neutral face. âThat weâre going to sleep.â
âTogether???â, he gasped, cupping his own cheeks like he was afraid they could somehow run away. âLike hugging and holding hands?â, he suggested. âCan we hold hands? I wanna hold your hand.â
âThought you were supposed to be a spider?â, you reminded him.
Peter straightened his back and you couldnât have described it better than by comparing him with a Golden Retriever expecting to be petted. âI am a spider!â Even his expression made you think of that. Mira was always scarily accurate when creating her metaphors.
âI know, I knowâ, you playfully held your hands in front of you. âIt was a stupid joke, Spider-Man.â
âCall me Peterâ, he said, pointing at himself. âYou can call me Peter.â
âOkay, Peter.â
âPeter?â, he wondered, as if he wasnât the one who had mentioned that name in the first place. âPeter likes you.â
Your heart skipped a beat, but that tiny fragment of hope that sparked in your chest was just as rapidly eclipsed by the darkness of reason. Like youâd told Harry not even an hour ago, Peter was shit-faced. So shit-faced he couldâve told you anything.
Nice try, y/n, hereâs your friendly neighbourhood reality check.
âWell...â You lowered your gaze, tracing the lines on the palm of your hand like you always did before touching an important topic. âI like him, too.â
âNononoâ, he shook his head. âHe likes likes you. That poor boyâs whiiiiiipped.â He emphasized his last words by using his arm to draw an imaginary arc that you assumed was supposed to physically show you how much he was into you.
âIs he, now?â, you smirked, indulging in that daydream a bit.
You were convinced he didnât even know what he was talking about... but there was nothing wrong in words, right? Also, you liked the sound of his voice. You liked listening to him. Even if he was blabbering nonsensically.
Peter took a look around, making sure no one was eavesdropping, then leaned in and gestured you to do the same. âViolets are his favourite flowers because of youâ, he whispered in your ear. âBut donât tell him I told you.â
âYour secret is safe with me...â You stopped mid-sentence, wondering if you should really add what you were dying to add or if it would be better to just keep it to yourself. Then, mainly encouraged by the fact that the hungover was going to erase all of his memories anyway, you decided to let it out.
Even if it was just for tonight...
âI like like him, too, by the way.â
âYou do???â He pulled back with an incredulous yet ecstatic glint in his eyes, frantically moving his arms just like...
Just like a baby penguin.
âI doâ, you confirmed.
âNo. Shut. Up. Shut. Uuuup.â He stressed each word with an energetic slap on his thigh, then let himself fall back on the mattress, lying on his side with his cheek resting in his palm. âTell me more.â
âHe always has the right answer for everything and has a quirky eyebrow that is simply the cutest thing everâ, you began listing, mimicking his position. âHeâs so impossibly kind to everyone, to the point that itâs almost irritating how he never gets mad over anything.â
That particular detail made Peter cackle, the action being right on cue, considering what you were about to say next.
âAnd then he gets those tiny wrinkles at the side of his eyes when he smilesâ, you continued dreamily, enchanted by the reality of what you were describing happening in front of you.
âHe doesnât smile much, because heâs too busy blushing and pouting when heâs concentrating on something... but whenever he does...â, you recalled fondly. âI see sparks fly everywhere. I wish I could see him smile more.â
There it was again, that sadness cracking Peterâs carefree mask. Like every other time, it was there for a fleeting moment, yet, like every other time, it was enough for you to notice it. âHe doesnât have a lot of reasons to smile lately...â, he trailed off, his eyes seeing something else, something that wasnât there, his lips pressing into a hard like. Now, there wasnât just sadness, but a shadow of anger as well. The kind of anger people often address at themselves, caused by the firm belief of not having done enough. Of not being enough.
What happened to you, Peter Parker?
All of that slipped away when your face reappeared in Peterâs sight. The clouds of the past had tried to keep you from him failing miserably. âBut he smiles when he thinks of youâ, the boy said. âHe wants to bring you swinging around the city.â
âSwinging sounds quite funâ, you observed with a certain interest.
âOf course, you two will have to cover your faces because otherwise people will recognize youâ, he recommended.
âOf course.â
âIt would be dumb not to do that.â
âVery dumb.â
âAnd then...â Peter held his breath and made a pause for dramatic effect, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. âHe wants to find the highestest roof with the prettiestest view of the city and kiss you there as the sun sets.â
You both hated and loved that you could already picture it. âI like it. Itâs romantic.â
âAnd the kiss, I must tell you about the kiss!â, he urged.
âTell me about the kiss.â There wasnât a trace of irony in your tone, this time.
âHe wants it to be so perfect that your leg will pop! Just like it happened to Princess Amelia Mignonette Thermopolis Renaldi in...â He snapped his fingers repeatedly, frowning more and more at each snap, the title he was looking for running away from him and hiding in the deepest, most secluded corners of his mind with no intention to come out. â... what was it called?â, he finally gave up.
âIn The Princess Diaries.â
âYeah! That one!â He scoffed in annoyance. âNo one could ever remember something like that! Itâs so complicated!â
You raised an eyebrow. âBut remembering Princess Miaâs full name isnât?â
âIt would be high treason not toâ, Peter declared firmly.
âI suppose youâre rightâ, you agreed with a giggle, lying on your back, but still not dethatching your gaze from his.
âPeter likes you so much when you laugh, you know?â, he said, scooting closer and raising a hand up to your face.
You held your breath as his fingertips traced your features like gentle feathers: the baby hairs along your hairline, the curve of your brow, the bridge of your nose, you cheekbones, the line of your jaw, the shape of your mouth...
âHe wanted to sketch you on his notebook, but heâs shit at drawing, so he just gave up.â His voice was soft, even softer than his touches. âHarry Osborn saw it and said that it was too stalker-ish and that he should just grow a pair and talk to you.â
You licked your lips, feeling your mouth running dry. âMy friend Mira keeps telling me the same thing.â
âI know.â
âYou know?â
âSuper-hearingâ, he hummed, fingers brushing over the shell of your ear.
âOh... right.â You released a breathy chuckle, Peterâs simple gesture enough to threaten your sanity. âI keep forgetting who Iâm talking to.â
The confusion was back on Peterâs face, as he looked over his shoulder and craned his neck to check the room. âWho are you talking to?â
You pointed at his chest, careful not to touch him. âThe guy who stole my heartâ, you whispered, but he had no trouble hearing you.
You didnât exactly know what type of response you were expecting â to be completely honest â you had no clue about it. But, in contrast to his previous ones, Peterâs reaction was calmer... and yet, surprisingly stronger. His chocolate eyes went wide, shining like they had been filled with little diamonds, worthy rivals of his radiant smile.
âI could return it...â, he considered, resting his palm on your cheek, his face hovering over yours, the light coming from the little light on the nightstand filtering through his curls. He was enchanting. âIf you promise to return mine.â
âWe have a deal.â
âAnd a date?â
âAnd a date, of course.â
âI like the shape of your noseâ, he mumbled, bumping the tip of his nose against yours.
âThanksâ, you replied softly. âI like your left eyebrow.â
It happened fast, so fast it took you a while to understand what was going on, but next thing you knew, Peterâs lips were on yours.
It fell on you like a cascade of rose petals, mesmerizing and intoxicating, and your eyes fluttered shut on instinct as you melted, letting him kiss you. His hand was still cupping the side of your face, the rebel curl on his forehead tickling your skin.
That simple, innocent contact, no more than a peck, felt like floating in a pool of liquid golden light. As if it were endowed with a will of its own, one of your legs bended, effectively popping, the sparkles of countless fireworks spreading under the miles and miles of surface of your skin.
What the fuck are you doing, y/n?!
Peter pulled away, looking like he was on cloud nine, and flashed you a tender smile as a single tear slipped from his eye, gravity attracting it to the enflamed skin of your cheek. âCan you hold me?â, he asked.
Before you could do or say anything in response, his arms gave out, making him collapse on top of you and thus blocking half of your body under his, his head falling on your chest, your heart beating right against his ear. It was so loud you could hear it in your ears, but it didnât seem to bother him, soothing him like the sweetest lullaby.
Holy shit...
Struggling to process everything that just happened, everything that was happening right now, and trying not to think of what would happen once the night would be over, you didnât sleep a wink, with his warm skin glued to yours, his arms and legs unconsciously wrapping themselves around your frame and his face snuggling into your chest.
Peterâs soft snores and cute little sleeping noises kept you company for the entire night as you watched the hours go by through the gradually changing shades of colour of the ceiling, the only sensible action you had managed to do being outstretching your arm to turn off the light.
Peter Parker kissed me...
At one point, you dared to touch his hair, gently playing with those soft curls, following the rhythm of his breathing. It helped you and, slowly, you calmed down... but still couldnât fall asleep, afraid that everything would turn out to be just a dream.
... and my leg popped.
In that tiny dorm room, you lost track of time, a time that stopped and then started again, it speeded up and then slowed down, it skipped forward and jumped backwards, eventually flattening out, transforming into a calm, silent, yet vibrant personal solar system, its brightest star covering the majority of your body with his and you feeding off his warmth and light.
Iâm fucked...
ây/n?â
Your entire body stiffened as you returned to planet Earth and the dimension of time freed itself from your distortions.
You looked down, locking gazes with a very much awake and equally lost Peter who was staring at you.
âH-hey...â
The poor boy didnât reply, but he blushed violently when, thanks to the perspective, he realized he was touching your boobs. With his cheek, yes, but it was still touching.
With a loud gasp, he removed himself from over your body, crawling back and quickly standing up, panic and shame fighting on his face. âW-where... why are we... why am I... why are you...â, he blabbered, gesturing at himself, the room, you, the bed, anything he could think of. âWhat happened?â
âNothing!â, you rushed to deny, getting out of the bed, too, only on the opposite side. âNothing, you were drunk and I tried to help you and Harry Osborn let us use his roomâ, you explained, taking a few steps back with your hands raised, but then you felt the need to specify something else, just to make things clear. âTo rest, he let us use his room to rest.â
âB-but we were hugging...â, Peter argued weakly. He was about to add the âalmost naked on top of you wearing his shirtâ part, but decided against it. It wouldnât have been gentlemanly. Just like staring at your naked legs coming out of his shirt definitely wasnât gentlemanly.
âApparently, you get especially cuddly when youâre drunk...â It was supposed to lighten the mood, but the effect you were hoping for was nowhere to be seen.
It sounded better in my head.
â... b-but I promise, nothing happened.â
Peter took a look around, spotting his clothes and your dress on the chair, his shoes abandoned on the floor like heâd kicked them off in a rush, the sheets that looked like someone had been jumping on the mattress...
âNothing?â
âNothingâ, you confirmed.
âAre you sure?â
âPositive.â
You couldâve sworn you saw Peterâs eyes flicker to your chest for a moment.
âYouâre lying.â
âWait.â Your eyebrows knitted together, while you blinked at him. âHow do youââ
âOh God, oh shit! Youâre making that face!â, he cut you off, whining in dismay, and then, without even waiting your answer, he began walking back and forth, his restless hands now tugging at his messy curls, now slapping his cheeks, now rubbing the back of his neck. âYou always make that face when you donât wanna give bad news to peopleâ, he kept going, pointing a trembling finger at you.
He knew it wasnât nice, and that May wouldâve rightfully scolded him for such manners, but this situation was a fucking mess. He mightâve made a fucking mess. âLook at that cute little wrinkle between your eyebrows! Iâve done something bad to you, havenât I?â He was running miles by now, basically digging a trench in the floor with his nervous pacing.
âWhat?!â Understanding what he was implying, you shook your head so hard it almost hurt. âNo no no!â, you cried out, the shock caused by his words making you feel like youâd just got slapped across the face. âNo, Peter, absolutely not!â
He stopped abruptly, making you stumble back, his squinting eyes flashing to your chest and then to your face. âYour heart is racing.â
âHow do you know whatâs happening to my heart?!â
ây/n.â
A long, cold shiver ran down your spine, a Peter Parker youâd never seen before standing a few feet away from you. His back was straight, making him appear a bit taller, everything about his posture screaming authority.
Like a true super-hero.
âPlease, just tell me what happened.â
âUhm... uh... we talked.â
âAbout what?â
âThe weatherâ, you blurted out.
ây/n.â
You sighed, head sinking between your shoulders. This wasnât exactly how youâd imagined you would look back at your first kiss with him. âAbout the fact that... you like me.â Your voice was so low a breath of wind could have effortlessly covered it. âAnd then about our hypothetical first date. You have some cool ideas.â You dared to crack a smile while telling him that. âYou said that you want to bring me swinging around the city.â
âSwinging?â
âBecause youâre Spider-Man.â
âIâmââ To say that Peter straight up died and came back to life in less than the blink of an eye wouldnât have done justice to the turmoil happening inside of him because of your sentence.
He had told you his most unspeakable secret, the secret he had altered realities to restore... the one he had sacrificed everything for. It had taken him so long to recover and move on, to create a new life for himself, but he had made it.
And it had taken him even longer to allow himself to accept his feelings for the girl in his class. Feelings that had bloomed and blossomed in the frozen valley of his chest with the strength of a snowdrop. Only, it wasnât a snowdrop, it was a violet, the same you had gifted him a few months ago...
And now, he had ruined it all before it could have the chance to begin. He had put you at risk: he was already losing you, even though you werenât his to lose.
Well done, Peter Benjamin Parker, this is a record even for you.
But then he remembered something... something that made him want to face palm himself so hard it would leave the trace on his face and at the same time lifted his entire body, filling it with hope. He had told you about his alter-ego while being completely wasted. And then there was the tiny smile you had given him while saying it...
Maybe he was safe. Maybe you were safe.
And that was all that mattered.
âOh...â He masked his sigh of relief with a breathy laugh. âRight.â
Seeing him react like that gave you a little more confidence. âAnd that you want to find â and Iâm quoting you here â the highestest roof with the prettiestest view of the city and kiss me there the way they do in The Princess Diaries, as the sun setsâ, you resumed your description of the previous night. âYou know, with... the leg thingâ, you specified, unable to resist the temptation to re-enact the movement.
âThe popâ, he nodded, remembering how much May loved that movie and especially that sweet little detail. Peter had never wanted to admit it out loud, but it had grown on him, too. She wouldâve been proud of him using it as a pick-up line. âRomantic.â
âThatâs what I said.â
âThen what?â
âYou...â And now came the hard part. What was it that youâd just thought about confidence? âYou... kissed me.â
Peter choked on thin air, a strangled high-pitched shriek coming out of his throat. âI did what?!â
âBut I swear I didnât kiss you back!â, you hurried to reassure him. âYou fainted right after you did, and then I swear we just slept!â
âWe just slept?â
âYes.â
Once more, he looked at your chest and then at your face, in what had become a solidified pattern during this brief conversation. What in the World was wrong with your chest???
âYouâre lying againâ, he stated.
Unbeknownst to him, that sentence sorted the effect of a time machine on you, sending you back to the previous day, right before the party, on that first glorious lazy morning after weeks of pure Hell on Earth.
You carefully sipped your well deserved hot chocolate, observing Mira through the steam as you did so. âWho...â, you began timidly, still shielding part of your face behind the mug. âWho did you sayâs gonna be there?â
âJust ask me what you really wanna ask me, will you?â, she smirked, sly as a cat as she looked up from her latte.
You let out a sigh, aware that the cover was blown. â... fine. Is he gonna be there?â
âHe?! Girl, you can just say Peter Parker, yâknow?â, she laughed, her voice echoing off the walls of your cosy bedroom. âWhat?â, she asked, after noticing your deer-caught-in-headlights expression. âItâs not like the guy has super-hearing or something...â
âSometimes I think he doesâ, you muttered, only half-joking, thinking about how Peter Parker always seemed to be extra-aware of what was going on around him, despite his repeated attempts at hiding it...
âNahâ, Mira dismissed that hypothesis, waving her hand in front of your face, the way she would always do to help you erase worries from your mind.
That was a relax day: she wasnât going to let anything spoil it for her best-friend.
âYouâre just being paranoid because you have a crush on himâ, she affectionately nudged your shoulder with hers. âWe all get paranoids when we have a crush.â
You loved Mira to bits, and it was extremely rare for her to be wrong about something... but, coming back to the present, with Peter Parker still staring at you and expecting answers, and apparently aware of the rhythm of your heart, a tiny part of you started to think that this could be one of those few exceptions.
âUh...â You clenched and unclenched your fists, nails sinking into your palms each time. âYou slept. I couldnât.â
His determination seemed to back down, leaving the place to a genuine surprise. âYou stayed awake the whole night?â
Your blood turned to ice, a sharp contrast to the fire raging on your cheeks and temples. âI didnât do anything weird, I promise!â, you whimpered.
âI know you didnât.â Sensing your raising terror, Peter grabbed your shoulders, lightly squeezing them to help you calm down. The idea of hugging you crossed his mind, but he chased it away: it mightâve done worse and he didnât want to overwhelm you any further.
âI believe youâ, he said, repeating it as many times as you needed, until the furious beating in your chest returned to its normal pace, until your frail body stopped shaking. âI believe you.â
He led you towards the bed and made you sit there, afraid that your legs would betray you, and sat next to you, letting go of your shoulders only when you nodded reassuringly at him, silently telling him that you were okay. âAnd I know youâre a good person.â
You closed your eyes and took a couple of deep breaths, placing your cold hands on the sides of your burning face. âFuck, Iâm sorry...â, you chuckled humourlessly.
âNo. Iâm sorry.â
You turned to look at him with confusion written all over your face. âWhat for?â
âFor thisâ, Peter gestured between your bodies. âI didnât want to upset you... and for last night, too. I must have been... a handful.â
âOh no, itâs fineâ, you replied, shaking your head. âAre you feeling any better now?â
âYeah... thanks to you.â Just to flex a bit, he made a big a big show of touching the tip of his nose with his right index and the with his left one. It was a silly thing, but it managed to get a small laugh out of you, so he was proud of it.
âI did nothing, just brought you here and gave you some water... you recovered quite quickly, but you did it all by yourself.â
âPerks of being Spider-Man.â He looked at his shirt, a coy smile crawling its way onto his lips. âYou look cute in it.â
âI like the jokeâ, you smiled back, but it fell as soon as you realized that, in all likelihood, it was a polite way to ask you to return it. âRight, uh... Iâll go change and give it back to you.â
You stood up and began to make your way in direction of the bathroom, but an unexpected hand gently wrapping itself around your wrist halted your actions.
âWait...â, Peter spoke softly.
You sat down again when he tugged on your hand, fingers moving to interlock with yours. You let them. âWhat is it?â
âLast night I was...â He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. âI was absolutely shit-faced and I canât remember a thing... I want to apologize.â
âPeter, I told you, thereâs no needââ
âPlease, let me finishâ, he begged, giving your hand a light squeeze. âShit, I donât know how to say this...â
You waited patiently, letting him search for the right words.
âOh, fuck it, seize the moment, right? I like youâ, Peter rambled quickly. âLike like youâ, he clarified. âAnd Iâve liked liked you for a very long time. Ever since you complimented my shirt â you know, the Find x one â, making that joke about Charles Xavier wanting to know my location, and then offered me one of the violets youâd picked saying it was International Give Everyone You Meet a Flower Day.â
âOh God, thatâ, you let out with a pathetic sigh, covering your face with your hands as the painful memory resurfaced in your mind.
You wanted to be happy for what heâd just revealed to you, most importantly because he was sober now, but you also wanted to dig a hole in the ground and bury your head in it. Why did he have to bring that out?
âI was hoping youâd forget about it by now, it was so embarrassing!â, you confessed, voice getting muffled against your palms. âIt was probably one of the worst jokes Iâve ever made in my entire life. And I actually wanted to give you the whole bouquet and ask you out, you know? But then I panicked last second and came up with that stupid excuse.â
âI could kinda tell it was an excuse...â, he admitted. âY-you ran away and didnât give a single flower to anyone else. I couldnât even thank you. The joke was fun, though.â
âIt wasnât!â, you groaned. âProfessor X would have no problem finding out your location if he wanted to. It was so stupid!â
âIt was adorable.â Not without a few difficulties, he removed your hands from your face, holding them in his and placing them in his lap, fingers caressing your palm like he had seen you do so many times.
You kept your gaze fixed on them, feeling your heart melt.
âAnd yesterday night I... I actually wanted to talk to you and tell you all these things... but I made the mistake of following Harry Osbornâs advice about liquid courage and I ruined it.â
In the end, you found the strength to raise your head and dared to look at him again. âNever follow Harry Osbornâs advice unless youâre looking for trouble.â Another wise suggestion coming from Mira.
âRight...â, Peter agreed. âI had to learn it the hard way.â
A few minutes went by like that, in the calm of a silent room. The morning light filtered through the shading, casting a golden halo around Peterâs curls and transforming the brown in his irises into pure amber.
âBut I meant what I saidâ, he tentatively said, after a while. âAll of it. Iâd really love to take you on a date.â
âMinus the swinging part, right?â, you asked, faking a disappointed pout.
âIâm sure I can figure something else out...â, he replied smugly. âI-if you want to, of courseâ, he added, not wanting to put any pressure on you.
You tapped your chin. âWell, I happen to be free tonight.â
âJust one thing...â Cautiously, he scooted closer to you, until his hip was attached to yours, one of his hands moving up your arm, brushing your shoulder, and then the column of your throat. âSuppose that on said date I kissed you...â Grinning wickedly when you tilted your head back to accommodate him, he reached for your lips and caressed them with his fingertips. âWould you kiss me back?â
You hummed, delivering a feather-light peck on his thumb. âOnly if you promise itâll make my leg pop again.â
âWait, I made your leg pop?!.â
Part two -> here
A/n: If you got here, thank you so much for reading this! And again, a huge thank you to @venomsilk for giving me these prompts, I had so much fun writing this! Love you all, and see you next on... you-know-what pt.6 đđ
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Peter Parker taglist: @omegadumb42069 @spideyspeaches
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