the golden rule — peter parker
part one (?) peter parker x fem!reader, brand new day an unexpected visit from spider-man distracts you from your typical routine of arguing with your noisy upstairs neighbors in your head. (3.1k wc)
notes: fluff, upstairs neighbor peter, nursing him back to health, descriptions of injuries / self-administered stitches
It didn’t take long for you to get tired of the nightly noise from the apartment above you. The constant whirring of some sort of machine, the conversations between a (you presumed) young man and older woman, not to mention the bumps and thumps. When you first moved in it was easy to ignore. Hell, you’d put up with a noisy neighbor if the rent stayed as low as it was, but now you were a seasoned enough tenant that you felt like you could complain. The thought was tempting, especially on noisy nights. You’d play out the confrontation fantasy in your head. A braver you would knock on the door, the asshole would answer, and you’d get to chew him out. He’d be rude enough that you wouldn’t feel guilty about it but he would ultimately retreat and never make a noise again. This scenario played out almost every night in your head while you laid in bed with little variations based on the noise level. Sometimes it involved a firm slap to the face. Other times, when his voice sounded weak over the whizzing of whatever he was doing up there, you felt softer. You’d show up and say something gentle like, “hey, do you mind being a little quieter? It’s almost 2 in the morning.” It wasn’t like you were trying to sleep yourself, you often stayed up late into the night doing whatever you pleased. In some ways, it was nice to have some sort of not-so-silent companion. Weirdly enough it made you feel less alone in the big city. Maybe you were being too sentimental over someone who had no idea who you were, but pretending that there was a real camaraderie between two night owls meant something to you.
Some nights even made you worry, the silent nights. Nights where your mystery neighbor would suddenly slam his window, run the shower, then presumably go to sleep. Maybe he is sneaking out and that lady is his mom, you often wondered, but he doesn’t sound that young. You hadn’t run into either of them as far as you knew so there was no way of telling. Tonight was one of those silent nights that made you wish for the safety of a complete stranger. Well, maybe not a complete stranger, he was your neighbor and make-believe kindred spirit. You couldn’t help but stay awake a little longer than you typically would, waiting for that window to slam and signify his safe return.
All of these thoughts were freely flowing through your mind as you poured another mug full of tea. There were some candles and low-light lamps illuminating your space while the news quietly played from the TV. It was a calming night, the only piece needing to complete the puzzle was that window slam. Call it neighborly concern or call it obsession, but you couldn’t relax until you heard it. Maybe I should talk to my therapist about that. I definitely have an empathy problem—
Your thoughts were interrupted by a loud thud. This wasn’t from the apartment above you, instead it came from eerily close by. Like, a few feet away close. Instinctually you ducked below your kitchen island, your blood rushing to your ears amplifying the sound of your own heartbeat. After a moment of panic, you foraged as quietly as your could in your drawer and fished out the largest butcher knife you could. Okay, okay, you got this. You are not going to die. Nobody is willing to die for the shit I’ve got in here, just go scare them off. Slowly you tiptoed to your bedroom, your mug now abandoned on the kitchen floor. You hugged the walls all the way to your open bedroom door. While the rest of your apartment was lit, your bedroom was pitch black, the perfect lighting for a burglar to hide in. Perfect.
With a rush of bravery you jumped out from behind the doorframe and flicked on the overhead light, shouting, “Whoever the hell is in my apartment get out now!” Your shaky hands held the knife out in front of you like you were afraid of it. The room flooded with light, revealing a sight you couldn’t have imagined in your wildest imagination. Standing in the middle of your bedroom was Spider-man, donned in his red and blue suit. He whipped around to face you immediately and threw his hands out in defense.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry, I did not mean to break into your apartment, I was- uh, trying to, you know what? It doesn’t matter, I’m gonna let myself out, I am so so sorry, please don’t scream.” His words tumbled out almost incoherently, his arms waving around wildly as he spoke. The knife slipped from your hand as you stood with your jaw agape. However as soon as he made his way to the window, you snapped back to your senses. With him turned to the side you could see long, dark gashes along his ribs. The closer you looked you could see they were littered all over his body and face.
“Wait, wait! Holy shit, are you alright?” He froze at that, panic taking over once again.
“I’m fine, all in a day’s work, or night’s work, whatever. Have a great one, by the way, goodbye!” When he tried to move, a wince ripped through him. You took this as your signal to march in between him and your open window.
“No, please, just wait a second. You break into my apartment looking like you just got dragged through hell. You obviously aren’t alright. Just, take a second, alright?” He turned to face you again, stilling as he considered your words. Silently, you turned away and started walking to the living room. After a moment you could hear his feet padding behind you. Your heart was still thumping out of your chest but at least you were in control of this moment. When the two of you finally got to the living room you pointed to the small but cozy living room.
“Wait just a second so I know you aren’t losing your mind. Just- just lay down on the couch,” you called out while you rushed over to your small linen cabinet to grab some towels for him to lay on. No way were you letting him stain your couch, you saved up good money for that thing. After gathering up as many as you could possibly spare to lose you began laying them out in layers over the fabric. However Spider-man didn’t budge, instead opting to awkwardly shift his weight from one foot to the other from the corner of the room.
After a moment he finally spoke up, “Are you really sure? I can take care of myself pretty well, this isn’t nearly the worst I’ve been roughed up before.” That stunned you again, a wave of sadness washing over you. You looked over your shoulder at him with a somber expression as you struggled to find the right words. It was hard to imagine that the man who protected your city day and night, no matter how big or small the threat was, going back to an empty home and patching himself up alone. You felt your heart shatter. It had to be lonely. It wasn’t fair. You let the silence simmer a moment longer.
“Well, not tonight you aren’t.” You meant to sound more authoritative but it came out too gentle, like a loving scold. Your hands smoothed over the towels with finality to ensure they were laying as flat and comfortably as possible before you moved out of the way. He hesitated one last time before finally giving in. His back hit the couch with a sharp exhale, his muscles melting into the springs as he situated. You started making your way to the kitchen when he called out to you again.
“Thank you… random lady whose apartment I broke into.” A little laugh slipped from you. Despite his condition he still could crack a joke, that was the Spider-man everyone knew and loved. Or, thought they knew, at least. Retrieving your mug from the floor along with a clean one for Spider-man you poured more fresh tea out and began searching for your first aid and sewing kits.
“You can thank me after I finish maiming you with a sewing needle… sorry you couldn’t stumble into some nurse’s apartment or something.” After gathering all the supplies you made your way back to the couch, pulling a chair up so you could sit beside his reclined figure. He sat up a bit when you did and nervously scanned over your kit. Instead of paying his caution any mind you shoved the mug into his hand.
Again, he started rambling.
“Listen, I’m really thankful for the tea and the couch but I seriously cannot let you patch me up. I mean, these wounds aren’t really the type you can sew up, not most of them at least. Plus, I heal super quick. Double-plus, I can’t let you see me, like at all.” Your hand met your forehead, pensively rubbing over your forehead.
“How about… you can fix yourself up if I just turn around while your mask is up? Maybe I could just get you some ibuprofen and an ice pack?” He let out a breathy laugh at that and nodded softly.
“Yeah, that’d be really great.”
“How about a snack?”
The fridge light poured into your kitchen as your eyes scanned through every possible option you could provide. What do you make for a local superhero who is bleeding out on your couch? From the living room you could hear the sharp hisses of someone repeatedly shoving a curved sewing needle into themselves, a noise you never wanted to hear again in your life. As that sound registered in your mind you suddenly became aware of how ridiculous this situation was.
“So, how often do you stumble into random people’s apartments?” You began pulling out ingredients for a turkey sandwich and ignored the urge to turn around and face him.
“Well this is sort of a one and done thing for me. I think I got a concussion or something, I was just swinging and… thought I was at my place, I guess.” While you weren’t paying any attention to the TV but you became aware of it when it went quiet.
“Sorry, I had to turn it off. Only thing worse than having your ass beat is watching the view from a helicopter.” It was your turn to laugh now as you finished assembling the sandwich. Then, you started packing ice into a plastic grocery bag and twisting it tightly.
“Alright, let me know when I can turn around.” After some scuffling he finally replied, “You’re good!” When you turned around he was back to his reclined position, a pile of bloody needles and thread laid out neatly on a towel.
“Jesus, that’s brutal.” He shook his head with a chuckle, you could only imagine what his expression was under the mask. Despite not being able to see his face you imagined it was handsome. There was no way someone that brave, athletic, and clearly fit wasn’t hot too. The thought made a warmth rise in your cheeks. You had always been a fan of Spider-man, even entertained thoughts of a moment like this. He didn’t have to know that, of course.
You handed him the plate which he took in his lap while he reached for the ice pack. Quickly, you pulled it out of his reach.
“Nuh-uh. You are not eating that sandwich with one hand on my couch. You eat it, I’ll hold the bag.” Deep inside you knew you just wanted to be close to him for as long as you could.
He snickered and shook his head, “You seriously are protective over this couch, lady. And no way, you’re forgetting my golden rule.” You huffed back.
“Treat others as you’d like to be treated? Isn’t that what I’m doing right now? And I have a name, ya’know.”
“I mean seeing my fa-” He froze. “Wow, I really look like an ass right now, don’t I? What is your name?”
“But that’s not fair though, right? You don’t get to know my name if I can’t know yours. That’s my golden rule.”
“Well then who am I gonna write my long-winded thank you card to? Just ‘beautiful lady who fed and pampered me?’” You could practically hear the smirk in his voice while your face grew even hotter. Instead of indulging any further you pressed the ice pack against his mask, taking a twisted pride in the hiss that came as a result. You stood above him and turned your face towards the ceiling without explanation, the implication serving its purpose. After a brief pause you could hear the shifting of his mask and feel the sensation of him chewing.
In between bites he spoke up, “I’m trusting you a lot right now, you know.”
“I’ve only known you for about thirty minutes, it’s a wonder someone hasn’t exposed you already.” He swallowed before replying.
“Well if everyone I met made me a sandwich and a towel bed I’d probably be in a bit more trouble.” Again, your mind drifted to the underlying tragedy of the situation. He probably had nobody, when was the last time someone helped him? Under the cold compress you could feel him reach past your body to retrieve his mug and take a long sip before adding, “I should probably break into more strangers’ houses.”
“Or maybe you could just knock next time.” He was quiet after that, instead focusing on each bite as he absorbed your words. It’d been a long time since he had spent time with anyone who cared about him, much less let himself be taken care of. Selfishly he wanted to prolong it as long as he could. When the final bite of his meal was gone he considered pretending to still be eating or just keep sipping his tea as slowly as possible to prolong the moment, but he knew that wasn’t right. He had already intruded enough, he was just glad you didn’t try using that knife on him or immediately kick him out. With great restraint he put the plate on the table, his arm grazing your thigh. The contact sizzled for a moment, sending a wave of electricity through your body. You could feel him pulling his mask back down but neither of you said a word. Instead, you just looked down at him. His head slowly turned up to face you as well as he slowly clasped one hand over yours, gently applying more pressure. It wasn’t an invitation to take the ice pack from you, rather a silent expression of his gratitude and a plea for you to stay just as you were. You could feel the warmth of his hand through the cool fabric of his gloves, a sensation that made your heart race. He felt it too, the smallness of your hand under his gloved one. He closed his eyes briefly, imagining what it might have felt like if he wasn’t wearing it. What it would have been like if he met you on the elevator as Peter Parker. It was true that he was concussed, but it wasn’t like he had ended up very far from home. Replaying the memory of him swinging into your window, he could see it clearly now. He had only missed his own bedroom by one floor. Both of you stayed like that for a while longer before he spoke again.
“I should probably go, I think.” You didn’t say a word, just pulled back your hand and made space for him to stand. Now that he had moved you could see the amount of blood on the towels but it didn’t cross your mind to worry about the couch. Something inside of you turned over, another wave of sadness washing over you. You would miss him, you were sure of it. You wondered where he would go. Did Spider-man have somewhere to call home tonight or would he go back out on the streets, fighting off whatever went bump in the night? He stood slowly with a groan, his free hand finding a sore spot on the small of his back. Leading the way, you guided him back to the window. It seemed right to have him leave the way he came. He took a long look around your room now that you weren’t threatening to stab him, taking note of the piles of pillows and duvets. Maybe in another world he could sleep on a bed like that next to a girl like you. He had always wondered who his neighbors were, it was hard to imagine that you had been right below him all along. When he finally got to the open windowsill he stilled for a moment, committing you to memory one final time.
“Are you sure you can’t tell me your name?” He couldn’t help himself. Sure, he knew he couldn’t return the favor, but he wanted to give it one last try. He wanted something to hold on to after tonight. You shrugged at him with a teasing shake of your head.
“You know the rules, Spider-man.” There was a pause. He didn’t want this to end, but like everything else good in his life, it had to. Slowly he lowered himself onto your fire escape.
“I guess this is goodnight then.” Your lips tugged into a frown at that. You didn’t want him to go. If you had it your way he would have slept on your couch, woken up and eaten breakfast, maybe washed himself off, anything that could relieve him for even one moment. Unbeknownst to you, he could sense that from you. Thankfully you didn’t press the offer, he wasn’t sure he could say no.
“Thank you so, so much,” he said with a softness akin to a whisper.
“Thank you, for everything you do.” Even through the mask you could tell he was smiling. Then just like that he was gone, the whizzing of webs pulling him out into the night. A deep breath left you as you stood in your now empty room. Unable to do anything else with yourself, you made your rounds through your apartment to turn off the lights. You would deal with the couch and the plates and the mugs in the morning. For now you just needed to rest.
Pulling your covers over yourself, you let yourself mull over every question that crossed your mind. Was there more danger waiting for him? Did he ever get lonely? It seemed that way to you. Your eyes couldn’t stay open another moment, but just before you teetered off the edge of sleep, you heard a familiar slam. At least he was home safe.
