Summary: Peter forgets your birthday, and does everything he can to make it up to you.
Content: angst, hurt/comfort, eventual fluff, no use of Y/N, kinda cheesy, use of nicknames “baby” and “honey”, readers age is unspecified but she’s old enough to have her own apartment, any variation of peter parker can be imagined for this but I did take inspiration from andrew garfields for one scene, lmk if i missed any!
Authors notes: wrote this in honour of my birthday today! Def something wrong with me since I decided to write an angsty fic for it but I hope you enjoy it as much I did writing it!
Word Count: 5.4k
It had been one of the most busiest days in New York City regarding crime, and that said a lot when it came from Peter Parker who had been Spider-Man for a while now. From the moment he had opened his eyes, he had been hearing the police constantly reporting all sorts of crimes on the police scanner he had modified on his phone.
He was lucky it was the weekend, which meant he didn't have to call in sick to work for the millionth time. They were starting to get suspicious of him now, and he knew he really couldn't afford to lose his job. Even as a superhero, he still struggled to make ends meet.
It was late at night by the time Peter returned to his apartment, finally being able to change out of his spandex suit he had been wearing all day. He took a long, warm shower, soothing the blooming bruises on his skin and washing his flattened hair. He left his small bathroom wearing only sweatpants, his towel draped around his neck as he flopped onto his bed, groaning as he relaxed his limbs for the first time that day.
He reached over to grab his phone on his bedside table, where he had accidentally left it before leaving to go defend the city from criminals. He had known it was a stupid thing to do, and he had intended to come back to his apartment to grab it multiple times during the day, but every time he had started to head back, he would see another kid walking onto the busy streets with no supervision, or another old lady who had her purse being stolen from her, and he simply had to go help them instead, further stalling the return to his apartment.
He frowned at his phone as the screen lit up, revealing multiple missed calls from you.
You, his beautiful, amazing girlfriend who he loved so much, who he thought was way too good for him, who he was lucky enough to have in his life. You had been dating for almost two years now, and without you, Peter's life surely would've been much more unbearable. He would have thought more about you today if he hadn't always been so occupied with fighting off multiple guys who had no chance on him, but there was always that sinking feeling in his stomach every time he was out being Spider-man, the feeling of missing you and craving your presence.
Peter grew concerned immediately upon seeing your missed calls, unlocking his phone to see that they had started at nine o'clock in the morning. It was now nearly eleven o'clock at night. His heart dropped, and he scrambled to call you back, pressing the phone to his ear as he swung his legs over to sit on the edge of his bed, one of his legs bouncing with anxiety.
His eyebrows drew together as the call went straight to voicemail, pulling the phone back to frown at the screen. Panic washed over him in a strong wave, horrible thoughts and scenarios racing through his mind.
Were you okay? Had something happened to you? Had you tried to call him, your superhero boyfriend whose identity you knew about, to come and save you because that was what he was supposed to? There had been so much crime happening today, and it could've reached you as well.
He swore to himself as he jumped to his feet, heart pounding in his chest as he ran over to grab his Spider-Man suit, about to pull down his sweatpants until he noticed the date on his phone.
The fucking date.
"No. No, no, no," Peter murmured, a different kind of panic rising in him as he rushed over to his cabinets, searching for a fresh shirt now.
He tossed his phone onto his bed, guilt immediately clawing at his chest as he threw on a T-shirt. He fell over while putting his shoes on hastily, his movements uncoordinated as he grabbed his keys and bolted out the door, locking it behind him.
He raced to the rooftop, and without caring if anyone saw him or not, he jumped from building to building without stopping, having to use his webs once to swing across the street, all with the intention of getting to your apartment building as quickly as possible.
He didn't waste time in barging through the door leading downstairs once he made it to the rooftop of your building, descending the stairs in a flash, his feet moving faster than his mind.
He panted heavily as he made it to your closed door, taking a moment to catch his breath before he knocked on it rapidly. He waited a minute with no response, and knocked again before saying your name, "it's me, Peter."
No response again, and the silence you gave him this time felt glaringly louder. Which, he knew you were on the other side of the door, because he could sense you thanks to his heightened senses.
He sighed, pressing his forehead against the door. "I'm so sorry, honey, can we please just talk? I just had this crazy day, and I know it doesn't make it right-"
Peter nearly fell forward when the door abruptly swung open, revealing your glowering figure with one hand on your hip.
"You're damn right it doesn't make it right, and don't you honey me," you snapped, and Peter swallowed, the guilt increasing tenfold as he took in your appearance.
Even though you radiated fury, he could still see your glassy, bloodshot eyes, the sadness that swirled in them, indicating that you had been crying. Peter's heart nearly shattered. He hated seeing you like this, especially since it was because of him now.
"I'm so sorry," he said sincerely, his voice on the verge of breaking. He reached out for you, "please-"
You slapped his hands away from you, your nostrils flaring. "You know, a text wouldn't have hurt. Just a little happy birthday would've made me feel good, and when you didn't say anything, I excused it. I thought, you are Spider-Man after all, the work never really stops for you. But we had plans, Peter, and for you to not even warn me was really shitty. No text, no call, nothing. I just sat there, waiting for you like an idiot, thinking that there was no way my own boyfriend would stand me up, but then he did. On my fucking birthday."
Peter felt like he had been slapped, and he deserved it. Your voice broke, and you looked away, seemingly hiding your teary eyes from him even though he had already seen it. His heart ached, and he so desperately wanted to pull you into his warms, to apologise profusely into your ear and kiss your forehead, to tell you how much he loved you and how much of an idiot he was.
But he knew you wouldn't allow it, not now. Not when he had hurt you so much.
"I feel horrible baby, I'm so sorry," Peter almost whispered, tears welling up in his own eyes. "It's not fair to you, not at all. I was out all day, and I accidentally left my phone in my apartment, and I had no opportunity to grab it, because everything else kept pulling me away. I know it's no excuse, but you at least deserve an explanation. I can't begin to tell you how sorry I really am."
"So you really couldn't just find a second to grab your phone and send me a quick text? If you had just told me how crazy it all was, I would have seen it coming! I would have made other plans!" You exclaimed. "But instead I wasted hours on my birthday I should've been celebrating, because I was waiting for you, all because you couldn't take a second out of your day to let me know what was happening."
Peter ran a hand through his hair, taking a step closer, now standing in your doorway. His chest tightened at the way you took a step back at the same time, as if he was poisonous.
"And I'm so sorry, I didn't want to do that to you. I didn't mean to, and I hate myself for it," he said, voice wound tight as he held back the urge to touch you, to wipe away the singular tear rolling down your cheek.
"Well, good job, Pete. Best birthday of my life," you said sarcastically, scoffing.
"Let me make it up to you. I'll take you out, I'll spend the rest of the night with you, I'll-"
"Barely any shops would be open by now, Peter! And there's only like an hour left of my birthday, so it doesn't even matter anymore!"
"Then I'll spend the whole day with you tomorrow, and I'll do whatever you want-"
"No," you said sharply, and he almost flinched. "I don't think I can be around you right now. I need space, Peter."
"No, please," Peter begged, his voice finally breaking. "Please let me fix this, let me make it up to you. I'll show you how sorry I am, I'll do anything."
"Then you'll leave me alone for as long as I need it. I'm not breaking up with you or anything, I just... I need space," you repeated, emphasising it.
Peter stared at you as if you had just told him the world was about to end, and you gently pushed back by his chest so that you could safely close your door.
"You're just too late, Peter," you said quietly, the anger now having seeped out of your features, and the look in your eyes nearly broke Peter as you slammed the door in his face.
Peter's chest heaved as he stared at the wood of your door, and he swore under his breath, forehead falling onto the door again as he closed his eyes.
"I love you," he whispered.
He didn't hear your voice again for the rest of the night.
***
You didn't speak to Peter a week afterwards, and in that meantime, he had been drowning in guilt.
It didn't matter how much he explained himself to you, it would still make what he had done terrible all the same. The thought of you sitting alone for hours, waiting for him and expecting him to show up all on your own birthday made him sick. Birthdays were meant to be spent celebrating with the people you loved, not waiting alone while being under the impression that your boyfriend would come pick you up for your plans, only to be stood up by him.
Peter had seriously hated being Spider-Man before, but nothing could compare to the loathing he had for his double life now. His superhero duties had caused him to miss out on your dates before, but in the past, he had never failed to call you beforehand to tell you with sadness how he couldn't come. He had never forgotten and actually stood you up before.
Peter didn't know where he would be without you. From the moment you had found out he was Spider-Man, you had been there ever since. You had stitched him up after bad fights, you had comforted him in his times of guilt when there were people he hadn't been able to save. You had never let him down, and now he had hurt you in return.
You had said that you weren't breaking up, that you only needed space, but Peter's heart hurt enough that it felt like that's what it had been, a break-up. He couldn't get the image of your heartbroken expression out of his head, couldn't forget your red rimmed eyes and the obvious implications that you had been crying because of him.
He wished he knew how to make it truly better, how to mend the pain he had caused you that day. But it was nothing that could be fixed with a simple kiss, he knew that. He had been the one who had brought up the plans to you, his idea to pick you up and give you the night of your life on your birthday. You had been so excited for it, asking him excitedly what you should wear and what exactly you were going to do.
And he had burned all of that down, with only himself to blame.
Peter obeyed your wishes with the distance; not coming over to your apartment to beg you to talk, resisting the urge to bump into you on your lunch break during the week just to plead with you once again. He could see you walking around the city sometimes as Spider-Man, and he would discreetly follow you — not because he was being creepy, but because he wanted to make sure you made it to your destination safely, and also because he missed you. You would probably kill him if you knew, so it was a good thing you never noticed him.
However, he still texted you even when you never answered. He would send through a simple hi, watching the screen to see if you would reply, if it would even show you typing. Sometimes he would say that he was sorry, that he missed you, and in his worst hours, he would tell you how much he loved you.
You left him on read every time.
He didn't dare try to call you. He knew that was another line that he wasn't supposed to cross, but it didn't mean he still didn't consider it.
Peter felt, and probably looked miserable as he walked through the streets of New York as a normal civilian. It was the weekend once again, meaning he had a day off work, and this time his day was quiet, the modified police scanner on his phone significantly quieter than last week. It pissed him off, because why couldn't it have been this quiet last week? Why had all of the criminals in New York decided to go crazy on your birthday?
He spotted the coffee shop he usually visited every weekend, weekends he would spend with you, hand laced with yours while you would walk through the streets together. You would pull him into the coffee shop which was your personal favourite, and after you took your order, you both liked to fight over who would pay for it. In the end, Peter would always end up winning, ruffling your hair and kissing your cheek to soothe the little irritated pout on your face that had no real bite to it.
He wondered if you had already collected your usual coffee today, without him.
As if summoning you, Peter halted in his tracks as lo and behold, you walked out of the shop, coffee cup in hand as the wind blew through your hair, framing you like you were a model.
Peter's heart skipped a beat, and it almost felt like he was seeing you for the first time again.
You took a sip of your coffee, and then turned your head towards him like you had sensed him. You locked eyes, and he watched the way your face fell, something sad passing over your face as you stared at him.
When you turned away, Peter couldn't stop himself from sprinting to you, all too easy to catch up to you with his impeccable speed thanks to the spider that had bit him. He called your name as he came to a halt behind you, and you stopped, your shoulders moving as if you were sighing before you slowly turned to him.
"Hey," was all he could say, slightly breathless.
"Hi," you said flatly, unimpressed.
He swallowed, already wanting to fall to his knees to prove how sorry he was, but you probably wouldn't appreciate that anyway.
"Can we talk?" He asked softly.
"Seems like we're talking right now," you said dryly.
"Right, yeah, well..." Peter scratched his neck. He hadn't expected to run into you today, but he had gone over the scenario multiple times in his mind, planning exactly what he would say. Now that he was actually face-to-face with you, his mind went blank, and he was at a complete loss. So he went for, "I miss you."
Something vulnerable flickered in your eyes, and you looked down as you said quietly, "yeah, I saw your texts."
"If you need more space, then I completely respect that, but this is killing me baby," Peter said desperately. "It's been a whole week without you, and I feel like shit. I know I deserve it, but not being around you is the worst. I just wanna make it up to you."
You still stared down at your feet as you said honestly, "I want you to make it up to me too, Peter, but I don't know how you can," you looked up, a sigh leaving you. "Maybe if it had been any ordinary day, I would've gotten over it by now, but on my birthday? I just can't forget that."
"I know, I know," he said understandingly. "It was so shitty of you, and you were right about it all, I should've at least told you I couldn't make it so that you could've figured out something else to do with your night instead of waiting for me. I hate that I disappointed you like that."
You took another sip of your coffee, your expression grim as you still didn't look at him.
"But we can take it step by step, yeah?" Peter suggested hopefully. "I'll do everything I can, I'll take you out on a million dates for that one night, and I'll buy you whatever you want even if it drains my savings."
He felt a flicker of triumph in his chest as the corners of your lips twitched upwards. He took a step forward, and you didn't push him back this time, finally looking at him.
"I'm so sorry for everything. For forgetting your birthday and standing you up," he said quietly, cupping one of your cheeks with his hand, gazing into your eyes. "I won't ever do that again, and I swear I'll make it up to you.”
Peter thought he had convinced you, but then your eyebrows furrowed, and you took a step back, his hand falling from your cheek.
"You fully forgot it?" You said in disbelief. "Like- you just woke up and didn't realise it was my birthday?"
Peter blinked. "Well- yeah. Didn't you know?"
You scoffed. "No, I didn't know! I thought you only forgot our date, not my actual birthday."
Peter's heart dropped. "If I had realised it was your birthday, I wouldn't have forgotten the date."
"Oh my god, I'm so stupid," you murmured, pressing a hand to your face.
Peter's mind raced with panic. Shit, shit, shit. Had he just made it even worse?
"You're not stupid, I am. I'm so sorry, I thought-"
"I should go," you said, dropping your hand and turning away from him, shaking your hand.
"No, wait!" Peter pleaded, grabbing your arm before you could continue. "Please, don't leave me hanging again."
You let out an incredulous laugh, yanking your arm away from him. "You want to talk about leaving people hanging? Because you seem to have become an expert on that."
Peter's heart flinched, your words a blow, worse than the ones he had received by every criminal in the city.
"From the moment I woke up, it was just nonstop, okay? I didn't have a moment to think, and it was so early in the morning when I had to get up. You know I'm not a morning person," Peter hastily explained. "It doesn't excuse it, but I- I didn't mean to, and I hate myself so much for it-”
"How could you forget?" You asked weakly, your pain written all over your face as you looked at him with teary eyes.
Peter opened his mouth, but he was unable to get anything out. You sniffled, turning your head and walking away from him, leaving him alone on the sidewalk surrounded by the bustle of civilians who had problems of their own.
And this time, he let you.
***
You were even more pissed at Peter, that was clear, and he wasn't sure if you would ever forgive him now, but he had found one loophole.
You hadn't exactly said yes to his hundredth offer of making it up to you, but this time, you hadn't said no either, and Peter would be damned if he let you go again without doing anything about it.
The first thing he did wasn't enough to make you forgive all of it, but hopefully sweet enough to make you smile. He started to deliver flowers to your apartment every single day.
He would wake up early in the morning, get dressed as Spider-Man, and buy your favourite flowers from the floral shop that always gave him a discount when he wore the mask. Then, in true Spider-Man fashion, would sneak into your apartment when you weren't there, and set down the flowers with a handwritten note.
He didn't care if it was too cheesy. In fact, he didn't care if you hated it, he didn't plan on stopping. It would be one of his ways to show you how sorry he was, and how determined he was to earn your forgiveness.
After a week of the flowers, he started bringing along your favourite foods as well. Before you had started dating, you had jokingly told him that the way to your heart was through your stomach, and even though that had been two years ago, he hadn't forgotten it. And the thing was with food, was that you could throw away the flowers every time, but you couldn't waste a necessity like food, especially if it was free.
Sometimes, he would neglect to attach the handwritten notes to the gifts, not because he forgot, but because he would run out of time. But then on other mornings, the notes would go from a cheesy little line to a full paragraph about all of the things he loved about you, from the way you got too easily mad over a game when he would beat you, to the way you took care of him after a long day of being Spider-Man.
And through all of this, you had never told him to stop. You never sent a text, or called him to demand that he stop with his antics, that it was getting too much. Peter knew you, and so he knew that if anything, you would have been enjoying all of it despite how much he had hurt you.
So he never stopped. He even looked forward to collecting all of his gifts for you, to getting a glimpse of your apartment every time he dropped them off, even if your absence always haunted him.
It was after three weeks of this that Peter decided to do a big gesture, something that would be a complete hit or miss. You hadn't told him to stop his antics, but you still weren't willingly talking to him, and he was desperate to hear your voice again.
There was also the present he had gotten for your birthday. The one he had bought before he had foolishly forgotten, before he had ruined what was supposed to be an amazing night for you. He needed you to know that he hadn't completely forgotten, that he had been truly set on going through with your plans.
The sun was starting to set when you were chilling in your apartment, lying in bed with a book in hand as the orange hues of the sky outside cast its golden reflection into your place. You felt completely and utterly relaxed, all problems having blissfully left your mind as you basked in the warmth of the light spilling through your windows while you got immersed into the world that your book had pulled you into.
That was until you felt your phone vibrate on your bedside table, breaking you from your trance, and you sighed, reaching over to grab it and see who it was.
Peter with a heart next to his name.
You blinked, not expecting the call to be from him out of all people. Sure, he had been dropping off gifts and sweet notes by your apartment everyday that you hated to admit made you blush and give you butterflies, but you thought he had taken the sign to leave you alone cellular wise.
You contemplated your next move, deciding whether the call would be worth it or not, and you thought about it for so long that your phone rang until it stopped, telling you then that you had a missed call. You sighed, feeling the pang of regret inside you for not having answered it, your decision too late.
Then it started to ring again, and your eyes widened, Peter’s name popping up on your phone once more. You waited ten seconds before picking up, slowly moving it to your ear.
“Hello?” You said tentatively, your heart rate already increasing.
“Hi,” said Peter softly, and you hate how easily your heart melted. As much as he had upset you, you missed him so much. “Sorry to bother you, I know I don’t usually call but… I have something important to show you.”
“Is everything okay?” You asked with genuine concern, thinking that this might’ve been one of his serious situations that he frequently faced being Spider-Man.
“Well, yes, but no, since we’re not talking,” said Peter sheepishly, and your lips twitched against your will. “I just… where are you?”
“In my apartment.”
“Great. Um, do you mind looking out the window?”
Your eyes narrowed with skepticism. “Why?”
“Just trust me,” he said, and the words made your heart do a complicated thing. He didn’t know that even though he had really hurt you, you’d still trust him with your life.
“Okay,” you said softly, marking your book page before closing it, climbing out of your bed as you kept the phone to the ear.
You walked over to the large window in your apartment that overlooked the Brooklyn Bridge sat on the East River, a view you had fallen in love with from the moment you had first walked into your apartment.
“Are you looking?” Peter’s voice asked.
“Yeah,” you said. “What am I looking for?”
You heard a small laugh on the other end of the phone. “Are you sure you’re looking hard enough?”
You frowned, about to give him a snappy response until you saw it.
The view of the Brooklyn Bridge in front of you was nothing ordinary as it usually was, not when thin webs were strung up with purpose, the silk of it glistening under the setting sun at certain angles. Your breath hitched as you read what words the webs spelled out.
I LOVE YOU.
“You see it now?” Peter asked, his voice barely registering as you struggled to process the sight in front of you.
“Peter… this was you?” You questioned quietly.
“Of course it was. You know anyone else who can produce webs like that?”
You laughed at the pride in his voice before you could help it, your chest tightening.
“I… that’s too much, Peter,” you said breathlessly. “You could get in trouble for that.”
“What are they gonna do, arrest Spider-Man? And you know how much the police already hate me anyway, what’s a bit of a vandalism?” Said Peter, and you smiled, shaking your head. His voice softened as he said, “can I… come see you? I wanna give you something.”
You bit the inside of your cheek. “Sure.”
It was only a minute later when Peter’s masked face appeared in front of your window, and you jumped, eyes widening at him.
“Jesus Christ,” you murmured, walking over to unlock a smaller window so that he could climb through, a routine he was used to now with the gifts he delivered to you every morning.
You hung up the call as Peter stood in front of you in your apartment, yanking his mask off as he stared at you, the love palpable in his eyes.
“Hey,” he said.
You smiled weakly. “Hey.”
You moved back over to gaze out at the new view Peter had set up for you, and he followed, his eyes never leaving you.
“I have your birthday gift,” said Peter, and you looked at him in surprise.
“This is my birthday gift?” You asked, gesturing to the bridge.
“No, that’s one of my many apology gifts. Your late birthday gift is in here,” said Peter, shrugging off his backpack and undoing the zip.
You watched in bewilderment as he dug into it, his hand seeming to search for a bit before he pulled a small, square box, dropping his bag.
“I was going to give this to you on our date, but then I was stupid enough to not show up, so here it is now,” said Peter softly, holding it out for you. When you only stared at him in shock, he urged you, “please take it.”
You hesitantly took the box from his hands, wary as you felt up the leather it was made of, and your heart sank as you wondered how much it had cost him.
“Peter-”
“Please just open it,” he pleaded, and you sighed, doing as he said and lifting the lid.
You gasped quietly upon seeing the shiny pearl pendant attached to the silver chain, laid out in the box in a way that told you already that this had come from somewhere important.
“It’s beautiful,” you breathed.
Peter smiled. “Yeah? That’s I thought it would go well with you.”
You bit your lip as heat rushed to your cheeks, sending him a look as you stroked the pearl. “Peter, how much did this cost? It’s clearly good quality, and I don’t want you-”
“Don’t worry about that, okay? I knew what I was doing when I bought this, and I don’t regret it,” said Peter firmly, taking a small step forward. There was a pause before he asked, “do you want help putting it on?”
You nodded slowly. “Yes please.”
You carefully took the necklace from the box, handing the delicate piece to Peter as you turned around, moving your hair aside. Your heart fluttered as his rough fingers brushed your neck, draping the chain around your neck as you lifted your hair to keep it out of the way while he worked the clasp, your skin hypersensitive to every caress of his fingers.
His hands slipped away from your neck once he was done, and you felt hollow without it , your skin burning for his touch that you had missed so dearly.
So you spun around, and grabbed his neck to pull him into a fierce kiss.
Peter froze for a moment before he eased into it, hands landing on your waist like muscle memory, and you sighed, relief washing over you as you pressed your lips into his. You poured all of your angry and hurt emotions into the kiss, the tension slowly leaving your body as you did so.
You were both breathless when you pulled away, and Peter kept his forehead on yours, caressing your cheek.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry.”
You pecked his lips once. “I forgive you, Peter. You’ve done more than enough to earn it.”
“I think I did what was required of me. I shouldn’t have done that to you,” said Peter, his eyes swimming with guilt as he gazed into your eyes.
You smiled at him. “You shouldn’t have, but you kept to your word by making it up to me. It’s in the past, and just as long as you never do anything like that again…”
“I won’t,” said Peter quickly.
You chuckled. “Then we’re all good. Thank you for not invalidating me that whole time.”
“Why would I when I was in the wrong?” Said Peter, genuinely confused, and your smile widened. Sometimes you couldn’t believe your boyfriend was real, so perfect in ways that made you almost sure you had made him up.
“I missed you,” you confessed.
Peter softly smiled, kissing your cheek. “I missed you too.”
NOTES: Peter + Reader are new parents, family fluff ft. the cutest baby.
REQUESTED BY: Anonymous.
NAVIGATION | FLUFFTOBER FEST | KO-FI
The field stretches out in soft gold and rust, dotted with pumpkins in every shape and size. The air smells faintly of hay and cinnamon, the ground soft with fallen leaves that crunch lightly underfoot. Peter is carrying Willow in his arms, her tiny hands clutching at his hoodie, cheeks flushed pink from the chill. She lets out a delighted noise as a gust of wind ruffles her curls, the sound of her laughter cutting through the quiet hum of families scattered around the patch.
“See that, lovely?” Peter says softly, pointing towards a particularly round pumpkin sitting a few feet away. “That’s the one. I can feel it. It’s got personality.”
You scoff, adjusting your scarf as you catch up to him. “Personality? It’s a pumpkin, Peter.”
He gives you a mock-offended look. “You can tell a lot from a pumpkin’s vibe. This one’s clearly outgoing, confident, maybe even photogenic.”
Willow squeals at the sound of his voice, tiny fingers reaching toward the pumpkin like she’s backing him up.
“See?” he says, grinning down at her. “Willow gets it.”
“She’s just excited because you’re excited,” you reply, amused.
Peter crouches down carefully, shifting Willow to his hip so she can touch the pumpkin. “Okay, team decision time. What do we think? Too orange? Not orange enough?”
You roll your eyes, smiling fondly. “It’s perfect. You’re ridiculous.”
“I prefer festively enthusiastic,” he says, brushing a leaf off Willow’s jacket. She pats the pumpkin with both hands, letting out a delighted babble of nonsense that makes you laugh outright.
“I think she’s chosen it for us,” you say.
Peter nods solemnly. “Well, she’s got good taste. Must take after her mom.”
Your cheeks warm slightly, and you pretend to study another pumpkin to hide the smile tugging at your mouth. “Smooth, Parker.”
He grins, unbothered. “I try.”
Willow suddenly leans forward, trying to grab a clump of leaves, and Peter adjusts his hold quickly, laughing under his breath. “You’re gonna eat that, aren’t you?” he murmurs to her. She giggles, looking utterly pleased with herself.
“Maybe we should let her pick a tiny one,” you suggest. “Her own pumpkin.”
Peter’s eyes light up instantly. “Her first pumpkin,” he says, like it’s a monumental occasion.
“She’s seven months old,” you tease, smiling. “She’s not going to remember this.”
“Maybe not,” he says, “but we will.”
That makes something soft settle in your chest. He’s crouched again, letting Willow pat the small pumpkins lined up along the path, her fingers brushing their cool surfaces, her face lit with wonder. Peter’s looking at her like she’s the only thing in the world that matters.
“She’s so small next to them,” you say quietly, stepping closer.
He glances up at you with that familiar, warm grin. “Yeah. But she’s definitely the cutest one here.”
You shake your head, smiling. “You’re biased.”
“Completely,” he admits.
Willow squeals again, waving her arms, and Peter laughs, leaning in to kiss the top of her head. “You’re having the best day, huh, sweetie?”
Her giggle is high and soft, her tiny hands clutching at his hoodie strings. You can’t help watching them for a moment, the way his expression softens completely around her. He’s always been a little restless, a little scattered, but with her in his arms, he looks entirely grounded.
“Do you ever think about how weird it is that we made a whole person?” you say, almost absently.
Peter turns to you, still smiling. “Every single day.”
“She’s basically a perfect combination of both of us.”
“Mostly you,” he says immediately. “She’s too cute to be mine.”
“She’s got your eyes,” you say softly. “That’s a pretty big contribution.”
He chuckles. “Alright, I’ll take partial credit.”
You find a spot on the edge of the patch where a wooden fence overlooks the orchard beyond, sunlight glinting through the turning leaves. Peter sits beside you, Willow still balanced easily on his lap. She’s babbling again, waving her arms at the trees like she’s trying to narrate something important.
“She’s going to be such a talker,” you say, resting your chin on your hand.
“She already is,” Peter replies, mock-serious. “We just don’t understand the language yet.”
“She’s probably telling you off for feeding her too much mashed banana.”
He gasps dramatically. “Excuse me, I am an excellent chef. She loves my mashed banana.”
“She made that exact same face when you said that as she does when she eats it,” you say, laughing.
Peter looks down at Willow, who’s sticking her tongue out and drooling happily. “What?” he asks her, pretending to pout. “After everything I’ve done for you?” She responds with a tiny, delighted laugh that makes him grin again. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
“Both of you are,” you say, leaning back slightly to take in the scene, the golden afternoon light, the soft hum of distant chatter, the sight of Peter holding your daughter like she’s the whole world. It’s one of those moments that feels ordinary and infinite all at once.
He catches you watching and smiles softly. “What?”
“Nothing,” you say, shaking your head. “Just… this is nice.”
“It is,” he says, voice quiet. “Really nice.”
A soft breeze moves through the field, carrying the smell of hay and apple cider. Willow yawns suddenly, her little face scrunching as she rubs her tiny fist over her eye. Peter glances at her, then at you. “Someone’s ready for a nap.”
“Someone had too much excitement,” you say gently, tucking the blanket around her shoulders.
“She takes after you,” he teases.
“She takes after you,” you counter. “Can’t sit still for five minutes.”
He chuckles softly, rocking her a little. “Guilty.”
The pumpkin patch has started to quiet as families drift toward the exit, their chosen pumpkins piled into wheelbarrows. You stand, brushing leaves from your jeans, and stretch. “We should probably grab ours before she falls asleep completely.”
Peter stands carefully, Willow still tucked against his chest. She’s already half-dozing, her head resting on his shoulder. “You get the big one, I’ll carry the important cargo,” he whispers, smiling.
“You mean the baby or the pumpkin?” you ask, deadpan.
He grins. “Both.”
You shake your head, laughing quietly as you pay for the pumpkins. Peter insists on carrying the larger one even though it’s awkward with Willow still dozing against him, determined to prove he can manage both. You let him, secretly amused at the sight.
The walk back to the car is lined with trees glowing orange and gold, leaves crunching underfoot. The sun’s lower now, soft light spilling across the fields. Peter’s still humming under his breath, some tuneless melody that makes Willow’s head bob gently against his shoulder.
“You’re such a sap,” you say quietly.
He looks over at you, smiling. “Yeah, but you love me anyway.”
“Unfortunately,” you tease.
“Lies,” he whispers, grinning.
You nudge him lightly with your shoulder. “You’re impossible.”
“Perfectly impossible,” he says, shifting the pumpkin under one arm. “Which is better than regular impossible.”
You laugh again, shaking your head. The car’s just ahead now, the soft glow of the setting sun turning everything gold. Willow’s fast asleep by the time you reach it, tiny fingers still curled around Peter’s hoodie string.
“She’s out,” you whisper.
He nods, looking down at her with an expression that’s all quiet awe. “Can you believe she’s ours?”
“Not really,” you say softly. “Feels like we borrowed her from someone much more responsible.”
He laughs under his breath. “Don’t say that, you’ll make her think her parents are unqualified.”
“She’ll figure that out eventually,” you whisper, smiling.
He chuckles again, leaning down to press a kiss to Willow’s forehead before gently buckling her into her seat. You watch him for a moment, your heart full in that quiet, aching way that only comes with love and gratitude all at once.
When he straightens, he turns to you, smiling that familiar, easy smile. “So,” he says, “pumpkin pie or roasted seeds when we get home?”
“Pie,” you answer immediately.
“Good,” he says, linking his fingers through yours as you walk around to the front. “We make a good team.”
You glance at him, smiling softly. “The best.”
The drive home is peaceful, the world outside washed in the fading colours of autumn. Willow sleeps quietly in the back seat, and Peter’s hand rests on yours over the console. The day hums gently in your chest, warm and golden, as if it’s something you’ll want to keep forever.
letting go is so easy until you’re folding your laundry or cooking or walking home at dusk or lying in bed trying to sleep or stuck at a party you didn’t really want to go to or or or
summary: during one of your weekly movies nights with the gang, peter has a nightmare and accidentally hits you while you try to wake him up, knocking you out cold.
wc: ~1.4k
cw: peter hits reader and it bruises, though this is more of a crack fic than anything! hope you think it's funny, i cracked myself up while writing it (hah)
masterlist and taglist!
long after the credits had rolled on the empire strikes back, you woke to the soft snoring of peter next to you on ned's bedroom floor. the clock on the dresser announced a tired 2:32am, and the only light that crept into the room flooded from the heat lamp of ned's aquarium tucked in the corner.
sitting up and rubbing your eyes to get a better sense of your surroundings, you look down towards the bedheaded brunette lying beside you, soft murmurs escaping his tired lips. you leaned down to try and hear him better, but the effort was fruitless. the mumbling seemed harmless — something you'd heard plenty of times before during your weekly movie nights, so you began to settle back into the warm blankets on your makeshift bed.
that was until you felt peter twitch against you, barely audible gasps accompanying each unconscious movement. you turned to look at him, noticing his trembling body. clearly, he was having a nightmare, you thought as you leaned closer and put a hand on his shoulder.
you shook him gently, his name forming into a whisper: "pete?"
he flinched as he heard his name, though he was definitely still dreaming. you watched as his face contorted into something of fear, and you shook him harder, raising your voice to a regular volume, despite the other two still sound asleep in the room.
"peter, wake up. hey, pete-" SMACK! peter responded to your touch with brutal force, eyes still innocently closed as he lunged forward and swung, a grunt falling from his lips as his unconscious self grew breathless. the contact against your skin stung his knuckles, the pain response immediately waking him up in time to watch your limp body fall back against the floor. though he hadn't even fully woken up, he felt a tingle through his body as he darted forward to catch your head before you hit the ground.
"(y/n)!" peter yelled as his system finally woke him up, panic flooding his senses.
he clung to the sides of your face, instinctively checking for a pulse as you lay completely motionless on the ground. he stared at you for a moment, then down at his throbbing hand and put the pieces together with wide eyes. "no, nonono, no, come on,"
peter shot a web towards the light switch, immediately flooding the once-sleepy ombionce with stark white adrenaline.
"i need you to wake up, (y/n). please." he tried to shake you again, getting a better look at the forming bruise on your jaw.
fuck.
the sound of his heavy breathing became drowned out with annoyed groans as ned and mj began to stir, waking up from the harshness of the overhead light.
"yo, could you not?" mj spat in peter's direction through squinted eyes.
ned slowly sat up from his bed, rubbing his eyes as he drifted between mj on his couch and peter hovering over you on the floor. "what's going on?"
"yeah, parker. you better have a good excuse for-"
"guys, she won't wake up,"
the pair stared back at peter with the same roused expression he had moments ago.
"i-i-i, i dont know. i think i... hit her...?" peter trailed off almost in a question, like he was hoping it wasn't the case.
"what?!" ned reacted immediately, jumping down to join peter on the floor and take his turn trying to shake you awake. mj sat up on the couch to get a better view of the situation, though, that was all the more concern she expressed.
ned's breathing grew even more erratic than peter's. "what the hell happened?!"
"i-i dont know! i was having a bad dream, and i was fighting sandman, a-and, she must have been awake, because she was sitting up, and then..." peter looked down to your unmoving grame and visibly cringed. "and then she wasn't."
mj gave a sharp snort at the admission, and both boys whipped around to give her horrified looks.
"what? it's kinda funny."
ned gave her a glare while peter began to panic again, reaching down to hold your limp hand. "ned, i don't know what to do."
"okay, okay. people pass out all the time; there's like, jobs centered around it. let me google it," he ran to unplug his phone, frantically typing as peter stayed by your side.
"is she breathing? shit, she's breathing, right? holy shit, peter, did you kill (y/n)?"
"what? no!"
ned shook his head slowly, pacing in front of his bed. "listen, dude. you know i'm your guy in the chair, but i am not going down for a non-spider-man related murder-"
"ned, she's not dead! how do i fix this?!" peter ran his hands through his hair in frustration.
"okay, okay!" he made his way back next to peter, a wikihow article pulled up on his phone. "it says to perform a sternum rub."
peter gave him a bewildered look. "you want me... to rub..."
"her chest!" ned exclaimed, proud he even knew where the sternum was.
"WHAT?!" peter nearly yelled back, only to be shushed by ned and earn another snort from mj. "ned, i just physically assaulted her, i am not adding sexual to the list too."
"no, dumbass," mj perked up. "you rub her with your fist on her sternum, on the center of her chest — above anything. you're trying to elicit a pain response, to wake her up."
peter looked like he was going to throw up. "i don't want to hurt her either! that's what caused this mess!"
mj rolled her eyes and shuffled back under the covers. "you guys are freaks, i'm going back to bed."
"no!" the boys shouted in unison.
"you have to help us! you come do it!" ned nearly pleaded, his eyes flickering between you and mj.
"i'm not the one who knocked her out! this entirely seems like a peter problem."
peter's face dropped to his hands, a frustrated groan rumbling deep from his chest. "it was an accident."
"your accident."
"mj!" ned yelled, a hand on peter's shoulder to help calm him down. "it's okay, pete. she'll be okay. you're spider-man, you save people all the time!"
"yeah, when they're still conscious!"
"guys?"
"i can see the headline now, spider-man hurts an innocent civilian: was this his motive all along?" mj gave in her best jj jameson voice.
"mj!" the boys shout at her again.
"um, guys?"
"one sec, (y/n)." ned responds, disappointed eyes still trained on mj.
everyone immediately whipped their heads around to see you slowly sitting up and touching your jaw, a wince falling from your lips as you grazed the bruised skin. peter was at your side the second he saw you awake, his hands covering your own and his eyes examining every inch of your face.
"oh my god, are you okay?!"
you rubbed your eyes harshly, the light only adding to your growing headache. "what's going on?"
"peter decked you." mj answered, the smirk evident in her voice.
"mj!" the boys scowled for who knows how many times that evening.
you looked towards the curly-haired boy with shock written on your features. "you... excuse me?"
the look of guilt peter gave you was enough of an answer. "okay. maybeihityouinthefacewhilesleepingandknockedyouout."
"oh?" you let out, more confused than anything.
"(y/n), i'm so sorry. i'm so so sorry, i was having a nightmare, and i-i don't know what came over me, i'm so sorry, you have to believe me." he rambled on.
mj cut him short, though. "i think this means you get to hit peter now."
"what?!" peter whipped towards her in shock, and it was ned's turn to offer a snort in response.
"i mean, it's only fair." mj shrugged.
"(y/n) is far more classy than that," ned said, almost in reassurance to peter.
"y-yeah, she doesn't stoop to your- OOF" peter was cut off as you swung as hard as you could at his right cheek. it was nothing in comparison to the villains he fought on a daily basis, and it definitely hurt your hand more than his face, but you smiled while craddling your now bruised knuckles as peter held his cheek in his palm with utter stupor radiating from the look he gave you.
Summary: Peter Parker x fe!Reader -> You have had feelings for Peter for...a long time. But, when you try to deny them, Peter begins to question what has changed between you both.
Disclaimer: Angsty fluff, friends to lovers, deny feelings, Kate and Yelena being the best roommates, Yelena has adopted Reader as a sister (and sticks up for her like one), yearning, she falls first, he falls harder. Peter crawls through her window, twice. Fluff, light swearing, not fully proof read.
“You’ve been moping around all day,” Yelena announced as she entered your room.
“No- I have not been moping.”
You tried your best to deny it, but if you were being honest with yourself, you hadn’t stopped moping since you stole one of Kate’s purple sweatshirts, changed your contacts for your glasses and perched yourself on the cream coloured desk chair in the corner of your room and opened up your laptop.
The entire doc had been empty for forty minutes.
Yelena sighed as she collapsed onto your bed just behind you, pulling one of your throw pillows to her chest.
“So, tell Auntie Yelena what happened?”
“Nothing happened. There’s nothing to tell. Absolutely nothing.”
“Okay, but,” Yelena began. “When you say it like that, it just tells me that you do have something to tell so…spill. What happened between you and Spider-Boy?”
You shook your head. “Nothing.”
“Y/n.”
“I’m not lying this time,” you told her. “Literally…nothing. I just…I don’t even know.”
Shutting your laptop, you moved towards your bed before scooting in beside her. She handed you your own pillow to hold.
“You know, sometimes it’s them. They’re never any good at finding things, men. Like, ever. You know I had to help Bob find his Ferris Buller DVD when it was, like, right there, in front of his face.”
You hummed. “Maybe, but…I think I’m just being an idiot.”
“A love sick idiot.”
You hit her on the arm, but she simply exclaimed, “What?! You know I’m right.”
“I know. But I don’t like it when you’re right.”
“Pshhh,” Yelena sounded. “You love it when I’m right and since I’m right all the time, it just means you love me all the time.”
“Shut up.”
“See, I’m right.”
“Yelena.”
“Okay, okay. Okay, fine. Besides the fact that I know I’m right, what else?”
You let out a heavy sigh as you slumped into your bed. “I don’t know.”
“Hey!” Kate’s voice called out as she knocked twice on the door before opening it. “I’m ordering pizza, anyone want- is that my sweatshirt?”
You looked down at yourself. “No.”
Kate just hummed. “I’m ordering pizza, want anything?”
Yelena nodded, “Oh, yes.”, before rattling off her order and then yours.
“How do you-”
“Because I’m always right.”
“What’s up with her?” Kate asked Yelena, in reference to you.
“Spider-Boy is still an idiot.”
“Ooh, I’ll get the drinks then, too.”
Kate disappeared and reappeared ten minutes later with three chilled beers and the information that the pizza guy was ten minutes out.
“So, what’s happened?”
“Besides she’s an idiot?”
You hit Yelena again before looking at Kate. “I saw him in the library today. I think he was on a date.”
“Well, who was the girl?” Kate asked.
“Stacey…someone. I don’t know. I’ve seen her around campus a couple times. And she’s gorgeous. Seriously.”
“So are you!” Kate exclaimed.
“Yeah!” Yelena agreed.
“But it’s more than that,” you added. “She’s smart-”
“So are you.”
“And she’s exactly his type-”
“So are you.”
“And she can definitely afford to wash her clothes every day rather than doing two loads a week at three in the morning because it’s the only time the stupid washer doesn’t crap out.”
Yelena and Kate fell silent. “Okay, maybe not that.”
“You only do laundry twice a week?” Yelena asked, but Kate simply gave her a look.
“But everything else,” Kate assured you. “Peter likes.”
“Not that you should change anything about you,” Yelena added. “Because…no. Never change. We love you as you are, and so should he.”
You could have cried. “Thanks, guys.”
“But is there anything we can do to help?”
You shook your head. “I don’t think so.”
“Well…”
Both yourself and Kate looked at Yelena.
“And, again, never change. But…” Yelena looked over your head. “You could, maybe, run a brush through your hair once in a while. It does kinda look like a birdsnest right now.”
“Yelena!”
Kate grimaced. “She is right.”
“Kate!”
Pulling your hair from the worn out bobble, you let the mess fall around your face and down your back.
“And maybe get a new hair-tie,” Yelena told you before looking at her wrist. “Here. Use this one.”
Taking it from her, you pulled your hair back into a messy knot at the back of your head.
“Besides Peter, how’s the doctorate going?”
You’d been doing Ph.D for the last three years. You were three months from your final deadline…ever. It had also been on your course that you had met Peter. As a part of your doctorate, you had to take on a couple of classes as a TA and in doing so, you shared an office with the other TA’s and a desk with Peter.
It wasn’t until after six months you both realised you worked in the same building outside of your classes. Although Peter was a part of the Avengers Initiative, you were a part of Shield’s. Which had been where you’d met Kate.
What had been a ten minute conversation quickly turned into a long lasting friendship to the point where you’d become the person to take over Yelena and Kate’s extra room.
“Almost finished. I just…needed a break today and…”
“Then you saw Stacey.”
“She’s so good for him,” you sighed. “I can’t even be mad about it.”
A moment later, the buzzer went off to the door.
“That’ll be the pizzas. Hold that thought.”
It wasn’t hard to do. You’d been holding it for close to three years.
Stacey and Peter ended up dating for six weeks. Six excruciating long weeks where you had to watch with a smile as they moved around you, too happy to even be considered the ‘honeymoon’ couple.
Two weeks after that, you sat in the library finishing up the last of your thesis. Barely anyone was in the library since it was two in the morning and also a weekend.
“Mind if I sit here?”
You looked up to find Peter, still handsome and as charming as ever, standing in front of your desk.
“Not at all,” you answered, if only to watch him smile a little tiredly before pulling out his chair. “What are you doing here?”
“Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d get some work done.”
You nodded. “With what laptop?”
Peter looked around him.
“Shit. Guess I’ll read then.”
What Peter didn’t want to admit was that he’d been out on patrol since eight in the evening and had swung past the library six times, if just to catch a glimpse of you. And once the clock struck one, he started to get worried.
You had a tendency to just keep working.
“Is that your thesis?”
You nodded and paused typing for a moment. “Yeah. Just the last couple hundred words then I can copy the reference list over.”
Peter smiled, “Cool.”
You gave him a short smile back before turning back to your work. The next hour of your life felt like the longest since…since the last time you’d seen Peter.
He stayed sitting across from you the entire time, reading. Every once in a while, you could feel his eyes on you and you’d look up. He’d smile and then turn back to his book like he hadn’t just given you a mini panic attack.
“I’ll walk you home,” Peter told you as he watched you say goodnight to him and walk away.
Placing the book back in a random place, he grabbed his jacket and jogged up to you. Inside, your heart was hammering against your chest. But, somehow, between the busy streets of bachelor parties, and the night skyline of the city, your nerves calmed.
Even when Peter pulled you into his side and held onto your hand so tight you were almost certain you’d still feel his hand around yours a week later.
“Thanks for walking me home,” you told him as you got outside of your apartment door. “I feel kinda bad, though. Who’s gonna walk you home?”
Peter shrugged. “Don’t worry about me. Just…get some sleep.”
You smiled briefly, unlocking the door and stepping inside. “Goodnight, Peter.”
From the top of the stairs, Peter smiled. “Goodnight, Y/n.”
The moment you locked the door and turned around, a lamp flicked on.
“Hello.”
You let out a quiet yelp. “Yelena.”
She chuckled. “I’ve always wanted to do that. So,” her personality changed from Bond Villain to excited roommate. “Who was that?”
“Peter. He walked me home.”
“Ooh, is this progress?”
You shook your head. “I doubt it.”
She flicked you on the back of the head. “You need to stop thinking like that.”
You shrugged. “It just…it wasn’t anything. He walked me home. But, I did finish my thesis, by the way.”
Down the hall, a door clicked open before Kate stuck her head out of the gap, squinting her eyes at the light. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, Kate. Go back to sleep.”
“Peter walked her home,” Yelena told her.
Kate opened her door wider and stepped out. “What?”
You looked at Yelena, “It wasn’t anything. He walked me home, we said goodnight. That was it.”
“Well, what did-” Kate yawned. “What did you talk about on the way home?”
“We didn’t have much time.”
Yelena’s eyes went wide but you quickly shook your head. “Apparently every groom decided that tonight would be his bachelor night. There wasn’t much time to talk aside from, “Watch out, puke.”.”
Yelena huffed. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Despite the night of nothing, it continued to play on your mind for another six weeks until you saw Peter again. And it wasn’t in the way you thought.
You’d been asleep on the sofa since six in the evening when you’d got back from work. Your thesis had been handed in two weeks ago, and, aside from work, you’d taken the time to rest.
Which, mostly, was to sleep.
Until one night a constant tapping at the fire-escape window woke you up.
At first, you figured it might have been a bout of hail from a storm that hadn’t been predicted on the news. Only, as you turned over, you felt your jeans relax away from your stomach the same way a new bra would. Then you groaned.
You’d fallen asleep in your clothes.
But the tapping continued.
Until you finally woke up and lifted your head from the sofa cushion to look at the window.
“Peter?”
Were you dreaming?
Looking down at your wrist, you tried to make out the time. Maybe a little after midnight.
Pulling the blanket from your body, you tiredly shuffled across the wooden floor to the window. It took a few tries, but you finally managed to unjam the window and let him in.
“What are you doing?” You asked him.
“Is Kate or Yelena here?”
You shook your head. “No. Last I checked, they’re on their way to Austrailia…or Asia…someplace beginning with A. Why- Holy shit, you’re bleeding.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks.” Peter managed to get out as he stood to his feet. But the moment he wobbled, you reached out to steady him.
“Okay, you need a hospital.”
“No,” he shook his head. “No hospital. And no Shield, before you say.”
You let out a small grunt. “Fine. But…would you let me patch you up?”
Peter looked down to you as you tried to steady him. And with a heavy breath, he finally nodded.
“Great, come on.”
Leading him across the room, you helped him into the bathroom before sitting him down on the edge of the tub.
“What happened?”
“Nothing major.”
“Nothing major, he says, as he’s bleeding in my bathroom,” you said, mostly to yourself as you rummaged for the first aid kit Kate had put together.
Finally finding it, you lifted it up and turned back to Peter, only to stall for a moment. Somehow he’d managed to remove his jacket and shirt in the time it took you to find the first aid kit.
He was built like every fictional character you’d ever read about.
Holy fuck.
“What?” Peter asked.
“Nothing,” you kicked yourself into gear again, kneeling on the floor so you were closer to the deepest wound that had scared his side. “Don’t you usually have a sense to avoid this happening?”
Peter hissed as you started to clean the wound. “Usually. But…there was a lot going on.”
“Do you want to tell me about it? Or do I have to wait for Monday’s report?”
Peter chuckled, but quickly hissed again when you cleaned the wound some more. “It wasn’t anything major. Just some idiots thinking they could break into a record store.”
“A record store?”
“Apparently there’s a vintage shipment coming in, or…came in, I guess.” Peter continued to explain as you cleaned his wound and patched it up as best as you could, knowing his body and abilities would take care of the rest.
However, you took a break when Peter huddled forward, gripping onto your shoulder in a shock of pain.
“I’ll get you some painkillers,” you told him, quietly.
Turning his head a little, he was barely an inch from you. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay.”
You shook your head. “Behind the abilities, you’re still human, Peter.”
Fifteen minutes, you were out of the bathroom and keeping a close eye on Peter as he sat down on the sofa, still in agony a little.
“Here,” you told him, holding out a mug of tea. “It’s not, like, an ancient brew or anything, but…it can’t hurt.”
“Thank you.”
Peter watched as you stepped over his legs with your own mug before you sat down on the other end of the sofa.
“You should get some sleep,” you told him. “It might help with the healing.”
Peter nodded. “I’ll be fine.”
“Peter-”
“Have you been avoiding me?”
You looked at him, a little stunned.
“What?”
“You avoid me in every hallway at work, I don’t see you at the library anyone. I know you’ve finished your thesis, but I had to find that out from Kate. You were meant to be on my training programme last week, then suddenly the servers get hacked and you’ve been switched to Natasha’s team…” Peter listed. “Are you avoiding me? Did I…have I done something?”
The look in his eyes was killing you. So, you shook your head.
“N-no.” You looked at the swirling drink in your mug. “I’ve not-”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
You sighed, closing your eyes. “Peter, it’s more than I can even put into words. But it’s not you.”
“But it’s got something to do with me, right?”
You just stared at him.
“Because if it didn’t, you wouldn’t have made eye-contact with me in an empty hallway and then ducked into a janitor's closet.”
“I wasn’t aware you saw that,” you admitted, a little embarrassed.
“I see everything you do,” Peter told you, almost like a confession. “I always have.”
“Peter, you don’t-”
“Don’t what?” He sat up, laying his mug on the table. “Don’t have to worry? Because I am-”
“Peter!” You cut him off. “Please. Just…trust me on this, it’s not you. It’s me, okay? It’s…it’s for my own peace of mind.”
Laying your own mug on the table, you stood. “You should get some sleep. I’ll grab some extra sheets.”
“What do you mean ‘peace of mind’?”
You tried to ignore the fact Peter was swiftly following you down the hallway and towards the linen closet.
“Nothing, just- forget I said anything and get some sleep. You know how to make your own bed, right?”
Peter nodded, catching the sheets you laid in his arms.
“Goodnight, Peter.”
“Y/n-”
“I said goodnight!”
The last sound he heard was the deafening click of your bedroom door as you shut it behind you.
“What the fuck am I doing?” You whispered to yourself once you were finally alone.
Somewhere between the worry about Peter and whatever fight had just occurred outside your bedroom door, you laid back from the edge of your bed and fell asleep, once more in your clothes.
“I made breakfast.”
When you’d woken up, still in your clothes from the day before, and heard nothing coming from the living room, you figured Peter was either still asleep or had left in the middle of the night. But, no.
He’d made breakfast, instead.
“I thought you might have left.”
Peter shook his head, pouring another mug of hot coffee. “Not yet. I still want to know why-”
“I’m not avoiding you.”
“Then talk to me,” Peter offered. “Please?”
“There’s nothing to talk about, Peter.”
“Yes, there is.”
“Thank you for the coffee, but there isn’t anything to talk about.”
Peter looked you over. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
Peter tried his best to believe your lie for as long as he could. But the more you started to avoid him, and the more you buried yourself into your work, the more he started to wonder why.
Why were you avoiding him? Had he really done something? You’d been friends, right? Maybe he grew a little distant with you in the last couple of months, but…that couldn’t have been it, right?
“Do you know why Y/n is avoiding me?” Peter asked as he caught up to Kate in the hallway.
She was, somehow, a worse liar than you. “Uh, no. No, why?”
“Kate.”
To her credit, Kate tried really hard not to break. But there was something about Peter that broke a part of her when she thought about lying to him.
“Look, it’s-” Kate looked everywhere in the hallway for help. Maybe Clint was still in the vents?
“It’s not my story to tell, just…be gentle with her, okay?”
Peter didn’t quite know what to do with that information, but he nodded anyway as he adjusted the strap on his shoulder.
“Always.”
Kate smiled a little but very quickly changed the subject onto a work problem she was having. But the information still played on Peter’s mind. And continued to do so until finally, one late evening when he’d worked over-time, he found you in your office.
“What are you still doing here?”
From behind your monitors, you looked up to find Peter standing in your office doorway before he walked inside. The building was mostly shut down and you both should have gone home hours ago.
“Yelena’s on a mission and Kate is, maybe, having a date stay over.” You told him. “I didn’t want to be in the way.”
“Want some company?”
In your tiredness, you managed to smile. “Love some.”
For the first time in months, it was like how it used to be between you both. Light conversation that didn’t send you into a complete and utter spin, quiet laughter and eventually comfortable silence that you didn’t have to worry over.
“Why don’t you come to mine? I’ve got a spare room and I’m pretty sure Kate left some pajamas at mine the last time she broke in.”
You sighed as you stood from your chair. “I told her she needs to stop doing that.”
Peter shrugged. “I don’t mind it. Mostly, she just uses my freezer to store extra pizza’s for Pizza Dog breakfast.”
You chuckled. “Of course she does.”
Like it was the most natural thing in the world, Peter took your hand in his after he’d helped you put your coat on and he led you down to the parking garage. Holding your door open for you, he closed it behind you and drove you in the direction of his apartment.
Just under forty minutes later, you were dressed in Kate’s pajamas which, funnily enough, consisted of your old undergrad sweatshirt and plain pajama bottoms you were pretty sure had been Clint’s at some point.
“I, uh, I washed the sheets last week and no-one has been in there so, they should be okay.” Peter told you as he stood by your bedroom door. “So…night, I guess.”
You smiled at him. “Night.”
With the awkward nod he gave you that you’d fallen for a few years ago, you watched him walk away and down the hallway to his room before he took one last glance at you and closed his door.
With his head against his door, he waited and listened to hear your door click, and once it did, he let out a long breath.
However, what peace he had over you finally talking to him again was swiftly disappearing when he woke in the morning to find a note from you, the pajamas left in a neat pile at the end of your made bed.
He didn’t see you, or hear from you, until later that evening when he got a grouped text from Yelena saying she was holding a movie night at the tower and everyone was to come.
Even then, you still tried to avoid him.
And for a while, it worked.
Until he’d had enough.
“In here,” Peter grabbed your arm when he finally found you on your own in the kitchen, popping the top of a beer bottle.
“Peter- What are you-”
The pantry door clicked shut behind Peter as he spun you both until he was the one blocking the exit. “Peter!”
“No,” Peter told you, pulling on the cord for the light so you could see him clearly. “No. We’re having this conversation. You’re avoiding me and I want to know why.”
“I’m not avoiding you.”
Although Peter didn’t know it, this time you hadn’t been avoiding him. Not intentionally, anyway. But first Kate needed help with her new string for her bow, then Yelena almost burnt the pizzas, then Scott was catching you up about everything Cassie was doing at college.
“Y/n, please,” Peter begged. “Please just tell me what I did. Because I’ve been racking my head for weeks and I can’t…I can’t think of what I’ve done. But please, if I have, I haven’t meant to hurt you-”
“I like you!” You yelled, a little frustrated, a little scared. “I like you, okay?! And I know it’s not the adult thing to avoid you but…seriously, Pete, you’re everywhere I go. And if you’re not, you’re still…there, in my mind. And while it feels nice to have, do you know how frustrating it is to know you’re falling for one of your friends but nothing is ever going to happen?!”
For the first time in months, it felt like you were able to breathe again.
“I was hoping if I managed to avoid you enough, the feelings would go away. Some silly work-crush that was being fueled by the main fact I saw you everyday.”
“And did it?”
You looked at him, puzzled. “Did…did it? Did it what?”
It was Peter’s turn to be frustrated. “Did it go away?”
“I don’t know.”
Both yourself and Peter knew it was a lie.
You sighed, “No. I just…I am sorry, Peter. And, I promise, I am trying my hardest to get rid of it-”
“Why?”
You laughed, “Why?”
He was deadly serious, crossing his arms across his chest. “Yes. Why?”
You couldn’t look at him. “Because…”
“Do you not want to like me?”
You scoffed, “No, Pete- look, it’s more complicated than that.”
“Then explain it to me. Surely someone as smart as you should be able to find the words.”
“Fuck you.”
“Very eloquent."
“Peter-”
He moved the same direction you did, blocking your exit. “I told you, we’re having this conversation. Why do you want to get rid of it?”
“Because…because of multiple reasons.” You finally gave in.
“Like?”
“Like…” You racked your brain to try and get it into order. “Like the fact we’re friends, and I like that more than I like the idea of you hating me for this. Like the fact we work together. Like the fact I’m not your type and I’m only causing myself more pain holding out hope. Like it’s wrong; see list above.”
“Do you have reasons why it might be wrong to get rid of it?”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Well…what reasons do you have?”
Peter shrugged. “That you’re wrong about not being my type.”
You laughed, rolling your eyes a little. Unbelieveable. “Peter.”
“I’m being serious.”
You shook your head. “No, I’m not. And that’s fine. I’ll get over it. I’ve got my girls. Look, you don’t have to feel sorry for me and worry that, pff, I’m gonna, like, I don’t know, end my life in some Shakespearean Tragedy-”
Your next monologue was cut off when Peter moved forward and your brain eventually registered that he was kissing you.
Your jaw cupped in his hands, the kiss ended but you kept your eyes closed. The room was spinning as you lowered yourself onto your feet.
“You are my type. In every way.”
Rolling your lips together, you savoured the kiss. “You’re just saying that.”
“What would it take for you to believe me?”
Your heart was hammering in your chest again. “Peter…” God, this was killing you. “Sooner or later, you’ll realise I’m not and we’ll still lose each other.”
Peter shook his head. “No. No, we won’t-”
You found enough courage to look at him. “Yes, we will.”
Looking to the floor, you ran your hand over Peter’s chest. His hand paused yours over his heart.
“I’ll find a way to prove it to you,” he whispered in the yellow light of the pantry.
But you merely held back a sob and tears. “Goodbye, Peter.”
Finally finding your exit, you rushed past whoever was standing by the kitchen sink and walked as far as your legs could carry you. Turns out, they could carry you down three flights of stairs towards the employee bathrooms far, far, far away from the kitchen pantry.
Meanwhile, Peter waited a few seconds before leaving himself, only to be greeted with an odd look from Hope.
“Do I want to know what-”
“I need your help.”
Turning her hip, Hope looked at his face before nodding. “Sure, kid. What is it?”
Less than forty eight hours later, Peter was being tossed onto a training mat by Yelena.
“What the hell were you thinking?!”
“I’m guessing she told you?”
Yelena shook her head. “She didn’t have to! What the hell did you do?”
“So she…hasn’t…told you?”
Peter ducked from the flying spear that barely missed him. Though, he did catch it. “Yelena-”
“Ah! No, no! You don’t get to use my name. Kate told you to be gentle! And now she won’t even come out of her room!”
Peter stalled. “What?”
Yelena shrugged. “That might be an exaggeration. But, still. She’s not herself. She gets up, she goes to work, she comes home, she’s way too quiet for my liking. And all because of you!”
Yelena threw another spear. And once Peter was in range, she dived on him, tackling him to the floor. Though he did have the advantage, the moment he was locked above her, she hit him as hard as she could in the ribs.
“And I know that that thought hurts more than most, because she’s moping over a guy.” Yelena added as Peter rolled onto his back, holding his side in pain.
“She’s a freaking doctor! And, although she is changing the world, she’s worried over some stupid, idiot, moron-”
“I think I get it,” Peter told her as he watched her rant as she walked away.
“No. I’m not done.” Yelena said. “Daft, foolish, brainless, stupid-”
“You said that one already,” Peter slowly crawled onto his front before sitting back on his calves.
“Man-boy.” Yelena added. “I like you, Peter. I really do. But she is one of my sisters now, and you don’t get away with hurting her.”
Peter nodded. “I know. And I am sorry. But I meant every word I said to her.”
Yelena crouched in front of him. “What did you say?”
“That she is my type. In every way. And that, I don’t know what it will take to prove it to her, but I will find a way.”
Yelena was silent for a long time before she finally stood up. “Shit! Do you really like her?”
Peter nodded. “I have done. For a long time.”
“You’re both idiots.”
“You’ve already mentioned that.”
“Fine, I’ll help.” Yelena said.
“I-I didn’t-” Peter shook his head. “I’ve already asked Hope.”
“Then you get both of us. Come on, Spider-Boy, get a shower. You’re sweaty and you smell.”
Finally catching his breath, Peter stood and followed Yelena out of the gym. “Yeah, okay.”
A full week after the Pantry Incident, you were huddled in your bedroom.
In all of the stress, you’d decided to re-paint, re-arrange and re-organise everything in your room. And, after the biggest Everything Shower of your life, you were laying on your bed in fresh pajamas, staring at your ceiling.
For a while, you tried to fall asleep. Listening to the rain hit your window helped calm your nerves, but still sleep wouldn’t help drown you out from the world.
As the city turned closer to its night life and your apartment became silent since both Kate and Yelena were out on missions, you started to hear more tapping. And through bleary eyes, you reached for your glasses before finding where the tapping was coming from.
“Peter?”
“Can you open the window? I’m, like, thirty seconds from falling down the drainpipe.”
Jumping up with the realisation the rain was growing heavier outside, you hurried over to your window and pushed it up to let him in.
“Let me get you a towel,” you told him as he was half way through your window.
You returned twenty seconds later with a fresh towel from the radiator and handed it over to him.
“What were you doing out there?”
“Oh, you know,” Peter covered his head with the towel and rubbed the water from his hair. “Figured it was a nice night for a swim.”
You looked his clothes over. “I think Yelena still has some of Natasha’s clothes here. They consist of, well, everyone’s really. I’m sure there’s some of Steve’s things or something. Just, give me a second.”
Rushing down the corridor and towards the linen closet, you rummaged for a box until you finally found it. It took five minutes, but you eventually found some items that you’d hope would fit him.
“You can use the bathroom. Throw your clothes out here and I’ll put them in the dryer.”
“You have a dryer?”
You nodded. “Yeah. The building finally got maintenance done so we were able to get two working machines in here.”
Peter smiled. “Sounds great.”
Once Peter’s clothes were outside of the bathroom door, you picked them up and threw them into the dryer. When he finally emerged, you tried to keep your breath steady.
“Better?”
“Much. Thank you.”
“Can…do you want some tea or something? Kate and Yelena are on missions but, you know, sometimes they finish early and-”
“I didn’t come here to see them. And tea would be nice, thank you.”
You nodded, a little awkwardly, and turned towards the kitchen. But the moment you did, you slightly regretted it because Peter blocked your only exit by leaning and bracing himself against the doorframe.
“So…why are you here?” You asked, forcing everything in you to keep moving around your kitchen rather than looking at him.
“To see you. And to talk.”
You forced a smile at him, briefly. “You don’t have to worry about me, Peter. I’m fine.”
Pushing himself from the door, Peter slowly strode over to you before pausing right beside you. Reaching out, he flicked the kettle on to let it start boiling.
You thought you’d already done that.
“Clearly.”
Turning to look at him, you finally let the question slip from your lips. “Why are you really here, Peter? Because after last week, I thought-”
“That I’d let you go?” Peter asked. “You should know you’re worth more to me than just one fight.”
You sighed, “I’m being serious, Peter-”
“And so am I,” Peter said. “I like you, too, Y/n. And no-” Peter cut off your interruption. “Not just as my friend, and not just as my co-worker, and not just as Yelena’s sister. I like you. All of you. Even the parts of you, you think nobody likes. I like all of you, Y/n.”
All you could do was look at him.
“And the fact that you think I wouldn’t is baffling to me,” Peter admitted. “Jesus, from that moment you sat down across from me in our office, I was gone for you. Completely. I just…I didn’t know it. You can call me an idiot for it. Yelena has many, many, many times.”
You chuckled.
“I hate that it took you trying to avoid me, for me to realise that. And I will spend the rest of my life finding ways to make that up to you. Even if you never go on a date with me, even if you hate me-”
“I could never hate you.”
“My point is,” Peter smiled. “I should have noticed earlier. And…I could have handled the Pantry Incident a little better.”
You shrugged. “So could I.”
Peter nodded slowly, hoping his next sentence wouldn’t send you running out of the apartment.
“So, now that we’re on the same page…would you let me take you out on a date? Just one,” Peter clarified. “For now. We take this thing one step at a time.”
Despite the fear, you nodded. “I’d like that.”
“And…if I wanted to kiss you-”
You already beat him to it.
Leaning up, you pulled him closer to you. And just as the kettle finished boiling, Peter lifted you onto the kitchen counter before he pulled you closer to the edge by your hips.
“God, I’ve been thinking about this all week,” Peter moaned as he broke the kiss for a moment.
Smiling, you felt him cup your jaw once more and kiss you again. And again, and again, and again.
hii may i request any sort of scenario with peter parker with a partner who's a bit bimbo at least with their interests bubbly, happy, loves to shop clothes, makeup, never seen without a pair of heels (okay maybe not all the time). but an elle woods type; witty and smart and often underestimated
i just lovee nerd bf x bimbo gf ty in advance !!
I've never written something like this so lets see how it goes! Sorry if it's not Elle Woods enough this is far out of my wheelhouse! Thank you for the request sorry it took a bit!
"Another late night baby?" You chuckled, closing the door behind you as you walked towards the messy desk that sat your exhausted boyfriend.
"An understatement." He sighed, looking over at you with a soft smile before almost dropping his head on the scattered papers in front of him.
A small chuckle filled the room as your heels clicked against the hardwood. Peter didn't raise his head as you sat on his bed, sliding the heels off with a content sigh. A smile grew on your face as you placed them next to his old sneakers, the stark difference between the two a nice balance in your mind.
You watched him for a moment, the way he was constantly erasing what he just wrote with increasing anger. Looking down you saw the crumbled pages beneath his feet, making you feel a bit sorry for the man.
"Anything I can do to help?" A genuine question, the brightness of your tone immediately bringing a smile to Peters face.
He sat up in his chair, turning his head towards you. You heard his back crack from the posture as he leaned back, a look of exhaustion hiding behind the adoring smile.
"No no." He muttered, eyes still on you in that way that made your heart beat just a bit faster. "Just can't figure out this dumb equation, I'll get there."
"Robots thing?" You whispered, walking towards him, allowing him to lean his forehead against your hip as you brought a comforting hand to his hair. You felt him nod, leaning most of himself into you at this point. "You were supposed to be having fun baby." He sighed in contentment as your nails scratched gently against his scalp.
"It is fun." Peter groaned, looking up at you. "Just keep getting the wrong values."
Looking down, you could finally see the complex numbers skating across the wrinkled papers, the erase marks coming close to forming a rip. There were countless attempts and combinations mixed together in an endless ramble, until.
"You wrote it down wrong cutie pie." You tried to hide your laugh, you truly did, but the way Peters eyes went wide forced it out.
"What?"
"The equation, it should be squared not doubled." Peters eyes followed your finger as you pointed to the exact miscalculation, the bright pink polish only showcasing the destroyed paper better.
Without hesitation he followed your direction, rewriting the problem with your fix. Within seconds he shot out of the chair, almost falling back with it as he launched towards you. His lips pressed against yours over and over with a hilarious amount of enthusiasm.
"How did you know that?" He whispered, leaning his forehead against yours with wide eyes.
"be sweet" — your door becomes a victim of your friends' roughhousing, leaving it broken the next morning. but it's alright, your friendly neighbor(hood) peter parker is here to help!
-> mcu!peter parker x gn!reader, fluff, a little suggestive, crack, boy-next-door trope, college!au, mentions of my ocs: finn & trevor (hehe), suggestive jokes, reader secretly checking out peter (but he knows), mentions of getting drunk (characters are all legal!), rough play fighting (reader isn't involved), swearing, mixed povs, cliché ending, word count: 2,060
[ 📀༉‧₊˚. ] — be sweet by japanese breakfast
🏷️ — tagging sweet sweet @illumoria !
You swear that if you did know, you would've stopped them.
Your friends came over last night, as a protest to keep you from being completely eaten by university. They’d reason that if you were to get eaten, at least let it be by an attractive fella—who knows what they’re doing—and not because of your tendency to be an overachiever.
They brought snacks, some booze, and their loud presence which soon brought you trouble and a visit from an angry neighbor. That’s when the party started dying down. Everyone was either tired, passed out, giggling because of a memory, or crying from an ex.
Apart from your two friends, Finn and Trevor. They’ve always been quite rowdy, but apparently having alcohol in their systems only intensified that. It started as just teasing. Finn said something about Trevor being so down bad for his girlfriend. Only for Trevor to hit him back with a comment about his long list of failed situationships, that he still cries over. Which escalated to light pushing, until they were full on roughhousing each other around your living room.
You tried to stop them, being the only one still sober enough to think properly, but that’s when you heard a body slam against a door. But you were also in the kitchen during that time, catching some air—because heaven knows how intoxicated your living room smelled like—and you had to rush to the small hallway leading to your front door, only to see your two friends laughing in a drunken haze with their limbs tangled. You sighed and scolded them back to the living room.
And they ended up falling asleep.
Which leads you to the next morning, currently.
Where you’re standing in front of your broken door, that one of your friends discovered won‘t open and close properly before they left. They offered to help out, each of them apologetic—especially your prime suspects—but you insisted. Since you didn't want to hold them back from their morning classes.
You let out an exhausted sigh, kneeling down to see that one of the hinges had broken down. Two of its screws have fallen out and it was somewhat bent the wrong way. “How hard did they hit my fucking door?” You whisper to yourself, examining the broken hinge. “I know they work out but what the fuck.” You add, shaking your head in disbelief.
If they secretly had super strength they’d tell you, right?
Apparently, past-you never bothered to buy a screw driver and neither did your parents. So, now you’re changing your clothes to go buy yourself one at a hardware store nearby. Because firstly, you’re stubborn and want to prove something to yourself. Secondly, you didn't want to bother your landlord to call someone to help you. And lastly, because you’re too scared of your landlord! He’s a scary guy, and you’re thankful your neighbor—from last night—didn't send a noise complaint to him straight away.
Just as you’re about to close your broken door, instinctively, you bump into your next door neighbor, Peter. Unfortunately, for your shame, he notices your failed attempt at closing your door and asks what happened.
“The door hinge is, uh, broken.” He raises a brow.
“How?” A question he would soon regret asking.
“Holy shit?!” Peter’s voice comes out high, the expression on his face reminding you of that one painting named The Scream. Although, his own is probably more in disbelief. “What were you doing last night? The Hulk?!” He points out the small dent on your door, that you didn't even notice until he said so. And now you feel even more suspicious of your friends.
“It wasn't me!”
“Then who!?” You don't exactly know why you’re suddenly whisper-yelling at each other, while crouching down by the door, but it somehow works for you both. “My friends! They came over. They got drunk, made a mess, and now this happened.” You point at the disaster, that was your door. Peter sighs, running a hand through his hair, probably regretting this even more now.
But little did you know that he’s been waiting for this moment his entire life. Well, not the broken door, but the opportunity to spend some time with you. Since you moved in, you’ve caught his attention. So, he’s been trying to up his game—his game being nervously meeting your gaze by the hallway, and greeting you awkwardly with a smile—and this was an opportunity he’d never miss.
“I’ll fix it for you.” He says, his tone so sure that you almost agree. But then you remember you actually don't have anything. No screws, no hinges, no screwdriver—especially that. “I don't have–” Peter cuts you off, smiling. “Its fine, I can just use my stuff. I’ll fix your door in no time.”
“What about the dent?”
“Uhm.. Maybe we’ll figure something out?”
You’re sitting next to Peter on the floor, watching him unscrew the broken hinge and passing him the new one. That he’d very kindly bought for you. And you feel kind of domestic right now. Like this is a normal occurrence for you both on a Thursday morning, while sipping a cup of coffee. Speaking of coffee, maybe you should make one.
It still is quite impressive that Peter just happens to know what to do. You didn't really peg him as the kind of guy that .. ‘fixes doors’. But you’re aware that he makes things. Or maybe invent's the right word? As you’ve heard him tinkering a few things in his apartment before. You don’t know what it is exactly though. But its always at night. And you sometimes pass by him in the hallways, always carrying some new invention. Which he says is for class, apparently. You never really thought of prying that much, though.
“You were partying last night?” Peter asks, his tone inquisitive, turning to you with his palm laid out.
“Yeah, I guess you could say. You didn’t hear us? We had Mike from 202 complaining.” You chuckle, embarrassed by the memory, passing him the screws.
No, Peter didn’t in fact know, because he was out swinging around the city, keeping watch of anyone in trouble, or the ones causing it. But he couldn’t tell you that, obviously. “No..” He trails off, turning back to your door. You raise a brow, tilting your head to look over his shoulder. You notice his brows furrowed, and you think it’s amusing how he looks so focused.
Huh, is it just you or has he always been this cute?
“I take it you weren’t home last night?” He responds with a hum and a nod, as he then reaches for something in his tool box, from your side. You scoot back, pushing it closer to him, and he gives you a small thank you. But your gaze just happens to drift on his rolled up sleeves and down to his biceps, and suddenly you’re telling yourself to calm down.
“Can I make you something?” You stand abruptly, catching his attention. “You don’t have t-” “Okay, that’s fine!” You’re sure Peter’s looking at you with that confused puppy expression of his but you can’t turn back. Not when you have the picture of his biceps engraved in your mind.
Checking out your cute neighbor’s a canon event for everyone, right?
You find yourself leaning on your kitchen counter, elbow down and chin propped on your palm, watching Peter as he finishes fixing your door. He’s not doing anything special, but somehow seeing him work—especially with his back turned towards you—is hiking up your dopamine levels. And now you’re in a constant battle with your mind.
Your coffee is left unattended, nursing it with your other hand, its warmth on your palm keeping you from going up to imagination land. Because where was Peter hiding all those back muscles? You shake your head, trying to physically push your thoughts away from you.
“I’m done here. Sorry, I can't fix the dent. I think these doors are just awfully gullible.” Peter wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, turning to you with a slight grin. And you’re surprised your knees didn't give up just then.
“Yeah, it’s okay. I mean it’s not that obvious.” You shrug, trying to force some semblance of composure to yourself. Peter hums, agreeing with you. “You’re right. You wouldn't even see it from here.” He picks up his tool box, heading towards your side. And you feel a shiver run up your spine. Peter notices it, staring briefly at you.
Actually, Peter is aware of what he’s doing and his effect on you. You aren't really that subtle, at least when it comes to him. But he likes having your attention on him, so he isn't that opposed to it. And there might’ve been instances where he was flexing his muscles, for you, on purpose. But you wouldn't know that of course!
“Thanks for helping me out, Peter.” You hear him chuckle, as he shakes his head, dismissively. “Uhm, let me see, you’ve said that about three times to me already.” He holds his fingers up, obviously teasing you. And you roll your eyes, hiding the grin on your face behind your cup.
“Just let me know if you need help with anything as well.” You watch him raise his brow, crossing his arms, as if pondering. And there goes your eyes drifting down to his arms again. Why did he have to roll up his sleeves? Matter of fact, why did his arms have to be so distracting?!
“Actually, I wanted to ask.” Peter finally speaks, cutting off your train of thoughts. “Yeah?” You ask, genuinely. He faces you, a little nervous.
“Do you, maybe, like legos?” Your eyes widen for a second, definitely taken a back. That wasn't exactly what you thought he’d ask you, but it was better. “I know, that’s a weird question. Actually, don't answer that!” Peter begins nervously rambling, waving his hands at you. But then you’re laughing, shaking your head.
“Not weird. Just surprising. And I do like legos, yes.” He pauses from that, his eyes searching your expression if you’re joking or not.
“Really?” You hum, reassuring him. And it’s as if a switch has been flipped inside his mind, Peter’s face beams and suddenly he’s back to being giddy again. “Okay, okay!” He says, giving you awkward two thumbs up. And you find yourself staring at him fondly.
“Do you want to build one with me? I was supposed to do it with my friend. But he’s got this like.. date.” He turns a little sheepish, but you nod your head. “I mean sure. Are you like.. asking me to hangout?” You face him this time, leaning against the counter. He turns even more coy, rubbing a hand behind his neck. “I.. kind of wanted it to be a date.” Peter’s voice turns small, as if he doesn't want you to hear it, bracing himself for rejection.
But you’re in too deep. In your mind, you can't believe your attractive neighbor just fixed your door for you, and even asked you to build legos with him as a date. Looks like you have to thank your friends for breaking your door.
“Alright, I’m in. I’m free this weekend.” Peter could feel his cheeks warming up. You’re just.. going to say yes like that? So casually? “Are you su– I mean, that’s great!” He reaches out to hold your arms, out of his own giddiness, and you let him albeit a little flustered by it.
“I’ll pick you up?”
“Peter, your apartment’s right next to mine..” He shakes his head.
“I’m going to take you out to eat first. Then we’ll build legos.” You nod your head, lips stretching into a smile, and his gaze flickers down for a moment before pulling away. You don't miss the implication of his stare—however—and your whole body heats up. Shying away, you change the topic.
“So.. Do you just go around fixing your neighbors’ doors?” He laughs, shaking his head.
“No. I’ve never fixed anyone's door willingly. But for you? I could do more than just that.”
