summary: a record-breaking heat wave pushes you and peter inside to melt together. or, the one where you indulge yourself because the heat told you to.
wc: 1.3k, give or take.
warnings/tags: no beta we die like peter parker, no capitalizations i don't care, fem!reader, established friendship, reader is also a hero, reader does not know peter is spider-man(yet), the Vaguest mention of weed/being high, tagged as smut both for eventual smut and that they r very clearly about to Fuck, flirting, tension you can cut with a knife, gratuitous ogling by both parties.
a/n: hi! i feel crazy, so here we are. thinking of writing a pt. 2 to this/turning it into a little summer series? who knows, lmk if u want more. ok mwah bye <3
the stifling summer heat has melted into the entirety of the tri-state area; record-breaking temperatures for the past week have driven everyone inside, and you to peter parker’s doorstep.
“ what the hell, pete? you were supposed to have the better ac. i still feel like i’m fuckin’ dying. “
your friendship with peter started way back when you met him at ned’s … something party ( reason unclear. he got a new karaoke machine, maybe? ). you like to say you met him at the perfect time, right when you decided that maybe you shouldn’t keep yourself so lonely all the time; when you told him this he got this sad look in his eyes, took a long sip of his drink, and agreed as someone gave a very, very unique performance of total eclipse of the heart. from then on it kind of felt like a disservice to not stick on him like glue.
hence the complaining about the apartment he pays for ( you still have to spend time here too, dammit! ), “ no, but seriously. put the fan more on me. ”
peter only groans in response, lifting himself up from his place on the floor to tilt the fan; he’s speaking as he does, saying something something ‘heat rises, we’re on the top floor’ something something ‘unfair, i’m hot too, you know’, but you’re not really listening. your mouth feels dry ( and not just from that bowl you smoked on the balcony earlier ) when your eyes land on the way his stomach gets exposed as he leans forward. he’s all chiseled muscle and soft skin underneath a black tank top, so obscene you feel like you might faint, and suddenly your tank top and shorts feel like they’re burning you, too. you’ve always been attracted to peter, but the heavy-handed flirting you did with everyone else seemed to be hopeless yearning when it came to peter; naturally, you did your best to give it up, forgoing the persistent tension and settling for imagining him while you’re in bed with other men.
peter realizes you’re not responding to his joking jabs and turns back to look at you, head tilting to the side. “ you good? look like ya saw a ghost. “
“ just my own from your lack of cool air. play the movie, i need a distraction. ”
peter shrugs, though you can’t avoid the roll of his eyes. “ whatever ya say, princess. roll film. “
you snort, settling into his couch and shaking your head as if to ward away treacherous thoughts. maybe jurassic world can take away your turmoil.
it does, for the better part of an hour and a half. your eyes still flit down to peter every once in a while, sat below you against the couch. somewhere along the plot he’d asked if he could take his shirt off ( “ m’sorry, i don’t want it to be weird. this heat is no joke and i’m sweatin’ through this thing like —“ “a whore in church?” “not what i was gonna say.” ) and for the briefest moment, you forego atheism to wonder if a higher power is trying to fuck with you. especially when it seems like peter might as well be making a show of it, pulling the tank top up and over his head and showing off rippling muscles as he does. focus on the velociraptors, jesus. this is your friend.
“ pete, lemme have the popcorn. “ you whine a little bit from your very comfy position, sunk halfway into the couch and unwilling to move lest you feel your skin unsticking from the fabric.
peter shakes his head, eyes glued to the tv. “ nuh uh. come n’get it, m’too invested. c’mon, you can reach. “ he nods towards the bowl, just out of his reach and a hair closer to yours. boo.
you acquiesce, though not without your own grumbling on the way down [ ‘ seriously, you make me do everything. ’ ‘this is so unfair, you’re closer!' ]. maybe the heat just makes you crankier.
you can’t see peter as you reach out, but he can see you. too well, he thinks, his eyes traveling from where your fingertips touch the bowl up, up, up, past the length of your arm, up to your pretty, determined face, lips parted in concentration; farther up to your chest, honing in on your breasts rising from your intake of breath; even farther to see how your stomach tightens under that flimsy excuse for a shirt as you lean over. peter allows his gaze the privilege to travel, hoping you don’t notice even though he’s sure it doesn’t take that long to pick up a bowl of popcorn. your legs look so soft spread across his couch, and the entirety of your body’s got a slight sheen from the heat, glistening in the light from the golden hour outside. peter thinks he might die now.
“ earth to parker? where did you go? “
peter blinks and now you’re up in his face, waving a hand in front of his eyes and squinting suspiciously. you smell like vanilla and strawberries and sweat and it makes peter adjust himself so you can’t see how he’s thickening up in his sweats.
“ i just — you were kind of close so i wanted to make sure you didn’t fall, i’m sorry if it seemed like i was being weird — “
his sputtering fades into noise, kinda; you already know what he’s feeling, you’ve felt it this whole time. maybe it’s your fault you never considered maybe he did, too.
you remember you’re the bolder one of the two of you and decide it’s now or never. quickly you’re snaking off the couch and into his lap, the plush of your thighs settling on either side of his own and your arms coming up to loop around his neck. it’s so quick that peter has to wonder where you got to be so agile, able to catch him off guard without even trying. the thought floats away with all of his other ones that don’t involve you, brainspace taken up by the way you're looking at him, eyes half-lidded and hazy and needy.
“ shhh. remember when i said i needed a distraction, earlier?”
he nods, almost frantically, definitely earnestly. “ yeah …. “
“ think this might be a better one … “ you smile, hoping this won’t irreparably damage your friendship. part of you might not even care.
you surge forward, then, lips pressing against his firmly. your shoulders sag with relief from tension you didn’t even know you were holding, hands reaching out to grab his own and settle them on your waist.
you don’t pull away until you have to, air fighting to get in your lungs. you smile, then, leaning forward to press your forehead against his and give his lips another open-mouth kiss.
“ take me to your room. s’cooler in there. ”
“ do you care if the movie keeps playing? “
“ … yeah. i wanna come back where we left off after. “ as if you haven’t already seen it countless times.
“ knew it — come on. “ a strong arm encircles your waist, fingers tapping your thighs in a signal to wrap around him. peter lifts you then, one hand keeping you firmly in place while the other presses pause on the tv.
sex in a heatwave might be a little counterintuitive, but you really do think there are little better ways to pass the time. and when you feel peter’s length press against your core, hard and throbbing, you realize you probably won’t have to do much thinking at all soon, anyway.
"So I put birdfeeders out in the garden a couple days ago." They're a little dinky, put together by a man who's more attuned to text describing fictional attacks on a square of overpriced cardboard than any instruction manual, but they're passable. Sort of cute in their slightly wonky presentation. "Um... Tell me why it's attracted a ghost, though?"
