a/n: sleepy peter is the cutest thing ever and i wanted to capture that in fic form :)
it was nearly midnight when you started to notice peter’s eyelids practically begging to fall, his head was inching closer and closer to the surface of your desk. which, admittedly, was an adorable sight.
you were in your room, catching up on some studies alongside peter. the boy found every single excuse to be with you, and when you said that you didn’t have time to spare (due to your need to study), he came up with the perfect compromise. a study date.
though, by the time he’d come back from patrolling, it was already 10 pm, and naturally, he was exhausted. but you knew peter, therefore, you knew he was going to put up a fight rather than simply accepting defeat and falling asleep. he's stubborn like that, endearingly so.
“okaaay, that's enough for tonight.” you say softly, causing him to whip his head to your direction. that statement didn't apply to you, but the boy who's dog-tired beside you.
“no, no, no, no. i’m wide awake!” he shoots himself up, making you let out a small laugh, causing the tenseness of his body to disappear.
“i think you need some rest. c’mon, this can wait.” you stood up and gestured for him to go to your bed, but he shakes his head.
“‘m okay, really.” his attempt to assure you was failing, given that he was falling asleep as he said that very sentence.
“you’re so cute when you’re tired.” you smile at him, he returned it with a lazy smile and a continued attempt to answer a few practice questions on his worksheet. typically, experimental biophysics was like light work for peter. but right now, he looks like he can barely lift a pen.
regardless, you allow him to keep working. he'll fall asleep any second.
“talk to me? tell me about your day, that’ll help keep me up.” he asks, staying focused on his work.
“oh, okay then! after class, while you were out, i ended up coming over and talking to may, and she showed me a bunch of your baby photos, which, might i say, were so cute.”
“mhm…” his responses became increasingly incoherent as you continued talking about what may had told you. so lost in your story, you barely noticed when...
“so then, i asked may- oh, you’re asleep.” the boy had found a comfortable spot on your shoulder as you were talking and slowly began to drift off. you observed a small, barely there smile that he had as he slept. you found it increasingly difficult to move at all, in fear of him waking up, so you decided that it’d be good for you to get some rest as well.
you press a soft kiss on his cheek (and you may or may not have taken a quick photo of him, for your eyes only) before resting your head gently on his.
but, you felt him move ever so slightly, so you lift your head up, and so did he.
all he did was smile at you, and you did the same, right before he rubbed his eyes and rested himself onto your shoulder yet again.
work could wait, this, however, couldn’t.
a/n: hehehe, i hope you enjoyed reading! please feel free to send me any peter parker x reader requests :) AND PLEASE PLEASE REBLOG AND COMMENT ! genuinely the lovely comments and reblogs are the only things that keep me going on here :(
Summary: You had known Spiderman a lot longer than he had known you. Or at least, a lot longer than he can remember. When Strange's spell was done years ago, it left you with a life you didn't sign up for and a sacrifice you hadn't been ready to give. Over the years, you've kept your distance from Peter to preserve the balance of the multiverse but when a foe that Spiderman isn't prepared to face alone shows up, it becomes your turn to step in and nothing is easy to ignore when you are left to witness Peter's pining - but it's no longer for you.
Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, (I originally started this to be smutty but got really into the angsty vibe so this'll probably be a two part series), cursing, nudity, implications of being a horndog lol, 18+ recommended, M (the Arachnid is conveyed more as its own entity within Peter for this story)
Word Count: 7.2k
New York had been rampant with a new kind of terror recently; one damn near impossible to face head-on. A villain. The unseen kind. Jumping from body to body, mind to mind, memory to memory. Invading more than just a person's vessel but going so far as to expose their lifeforce to this parasite.
You had gotten the call from Yelena as soon as the first prison was attacked - successfully, anyway. Yelena didn't waste her time with 'petty potatoes' as she liked to say. She had too many objectives on her plate. Ranging from cleaning up loose ends to making sure The Void was constantly at bay. This wasn't a matter for her to distract herself with - especially knowing she was not fond of the rumors that had been whispered in the Undergrounds. She was done with mind control, didn't want to go within miles of being subjected to that kind of manipulation again.
However, this potato was concerning enough that she could spare time for a phone call.
"My friend!" Yelena shouted as you passed the threshold into the bathing chamber, your bags left with the front desk receptionist that you had grown familiar with in the past few years.
The smile tugged at your cheeks before you could help it. Not that you'd want to, Yelena had been one of your dearest friends for some time now and it was customary between the two of you to get together every so often and cause (mostly legal) havoc on the streets of the city.
"Yelena!" You greeted, already stripping down to your undergarments and leaving them a few steps away from the foot of the door. After all this time, you knew where you would meet her and still never wore a bathing suit under your clothes. You'd have to make a mental note to add a bikini after Yelena's contact name in your phone as a reminder to be better prepared.
You dipped your foot into the steaming water and retracted reflexively. The warmth was good for the muscles to relax but it always took you a second to adjust to the temperature. "If you made this water any hotter I'd be concerned you were conceived in hell," you murmured, your joke sliding right off the blonde Russian.
"Yes, well, I was raised in one," she quipped back and you splashed some water her way. "Please," she held both hands up, "respect office mannerisms,"
"I'm nearly naked, am I not? What other rules could you possibly have for anyone to follow?" You challenged, the teasing smirk on your face looking exaggerated now that the warmth of the pool was causing your cheeks to flush.
"No sass in my office. It throws off the fengshui,"
Your eyebrows raised in response and she shrugged, "I am not subject to my rules,"
You chuckled, the sound bouncing lightly off the walls around you, "Naturally,"
"You are a fast one my friend, I wasn't expecting your arrival until..." she pulled her hand up from the water, pantomiming a watch to check on her wrist as the door squeaked open behind you and your eyes darted towards the noise, ".. right now." she finished and plastered a mischievous smile onto her face. "Perfect timing!" Yelena hollered, her accent thickening, "We were just talking about you,"
Your eyes widened when they landed on the red and blue suit that halted at the door, his head cocked to the side when he saw your pile of clothes at his feet. Your gaze shot back to Yelena as she meticulously avoided your accusatory glare. Hell's heat would have nothing on the fire you were about to give her.
"I-I didn't mean to interrupt, I can step out if you're not ready." His hand shot up to cover his eyes and the other slowly pointed to the open door behind him, "Your receptionist let me in,"
Yelena chuckled, a kind of laugh you knew held innuendos beneath its surface and motioned him forward, "Yes, I know, she's amazing. Now, close the door, you are letting out all the steam,"
He clumsily tripped over your clothes and you instinctively sank lower into the water, suddenly feeling far more bare than you previously had. If you thought your cheeks were flush before, you would hate to know what you looked like now.
He kept his gaze glued to the floor as he stood in front of the stairs to get into the pool.
"Well," Yelena chided, "are you getting in or what?" her accent rose.
"L-Like this?" He motioned towards his suit and you death-glared Yelena again just because you knew he wouldn't see it.
"Of course not! The changing stalls are behind you, don't take too much time," she commanded.
"Yelena-" You hissed, venom viscous on your tongue.
A hand shot up to pause you mid-sentence, "Please (Y/N), the little spider boy needed help and you were the first one I thought of. It's not my fault you are the most fitting for the job,"
"So this was all tactical," you sneered back.
She shrugged her shoulders, "Some parts more than others,"
"Yelena, I don't think I can do-"
The squeal of the door unlocking paused your whisper and the sight before you made the water you were submerged in incomparable to the heat beginning to emanate from your core.
"Oh!" Spider-Man's goggles widened at the sight of the two of you, "H-Hi, (Y/N). I didn't think I'd see you for a while." His arm raised to scratch the back of his neck and your throat caught at his bare arm flexing with the movement.
"He thinks about you," Yelena not-so-subtly whispered and faced Spider-Man again, "Really? Even in here?" She questioned, the mask still in place on his head.
"Mask stays on," he responded, but oh how you wished it wouldn't.
It'd been years since the last time you saw his faint curls, or his nervous child-like smile. You wondered how much he'd matured, how his features might've adjusted with time or his mannerisms might've grown in confidence. Time can change a person like that, and so does magic. If only you weren't so immune to its affects, maybe that way the two of you could - no. You shook your head lightly at the memories. No. Don't do this to yourself, stay in control. The ache in your chest was drowned by your discipline, and your fantasies right down with it.
You took a deep breath and only dared to look back up at him when the water settled around the three of you.
"So, what can I do for you?" Yelena asked.
"So, there's been some break-ins recently and they're all coordinated efficiently, as if by one mind. Until... it isn't. It seems there's an effect that wears off on people once it hits another person. At first I thought it was mind-control but-" Peter shuddered, no doubt forcing a memory out of his thoughts, "But then it got to me. And I just knew it wasn't that. Almost like she was trying to feel me. Like..."
"Possession," Yelena sighed, almost bored with the story.
He nodded quickly, "Yeah like that! I was hoping you could tell me if you heard anything around the city or some secret intelligence you might have access to that I could take a look at,"
"I have been hearing things. Many things. But these are very small potato things," Ugh, Yelena. "I can only give you what I have and then assist no longer. I'm very busy with big potato stuff, like Avengers stuff,"
He flinched at that and you followed right alongside with him. Yelena couldn't know how she'd struck him just now, there had only been so much you could have told her at the time. Or that you would risk letting her know.
"Spider boy you are decades behind on information," Yelena continued.
"It's Spider-Man," He whispered in astound under his breath and you chuckled. His goggles darted to you, your quiet laugh echoing in his ears and stirring up something inside him. But it couldn't have come from him, he thought, it had to have come from whatever it was forming inside of him.
Yelena cocked her head to the side in wonder, her eyes blinking rapidly, "Are you sure?"
He nodded and that same giggle danced its way past your lips and straight to his chest. A dread bloomed shortly in its wake. He knew it wasn't him. He would never betray MJ like that. He loved her far too much and although she had absolutely no idea who he was, his heart and mind remained with her always.
Except for when it didn’t. And he hated every moment of it.
Your smile died and you cleared your throat to relax its tightening. Empathy, on your level, was entirely a curse. Especially around him. This is why you couldn’t be here.
Yelena was droning on about some information she had heard sprouting up from a few weeks ago but your attention was a prison to your mind and your breathing grew unsteady. Everything from before – the memories, the emotions, the life – was crawling its way up from your chest to your throat and pooling around your eyes.
I will not cry. I refuse to cry. I cannot think about him or me or us. There is no us. There can’t ever be an ‘us’ again.
And there it was again, the flood and its humorous drowning, already on its way to suffocate you. To bring everything that you’d buried for years back to its horizon. The surface of the pool began to thrum with the vibrations of your power, its leaking was palpable in the humidity around you.
Your eyes fixated on the water, its sudden and sharp but miniscule dancing to the rhythm of your tune. Disastrous and unorganized and just beneath your surface. You couldn’t pry your eyes away, you centered in on it but the harder you tried to focus the stronger its dancing became. No – not dancing. Pleading. Screaming.
You shot up out of the water and – “And that is why I have brought (Y/N) here,”
You blinked. “What?”
You felt their eyes on you, Yelena’s bored expression and Spidey’s curious one. Yelena huffed in annoyance, “Was no one paying attention to my hero speech just now?
“Sit,” Yelena ordered and you were unpleasantly reminded of how your clothes lay in a messy pile by the door. The water splashed when you dropped back into its warmth, your arms wrapped around the soaking bra on your chest to conceal yourself further. The heat in your cheeks migrated to the tips of your ears.
“Anyway,” Yelena muttered, “(Y/N) has some experience in this field. She’s more than adept to help you take down your tiny, unbothersome potato,”
“Well, I actually don’t think it’s tiny- it’s more like impending doom waiting to –”
“Is there anything else Spider-Boy? I’m not a fan of gloating, ya know?”
You quirked an eyebrow at that but snapped your attention back to Spider-Man at his next words.
“T-There is one more thing…”
And so he went on to ask if either of you knew about genetic suppression.
“Dr. Banner has a modifier attached to his forearm,” you chimed in, “I’ve seen it during his online lectures. It’s supposed to help keep the Hulk at bay. Maybe he could help clarify some things?” The sudden hope planted in your chest caught you by confusion. Hope? Why would that bring him hope? “Are… Are you okay, Pe-”
“Of course, he is fine! Look at him, pure muscle and no ugly feet. Better than most,” She roared, a warning look sent your way and you mentally thanked her for the interruption. “Now go. Fry your potato,”
~
You made extra sure he was not within hearing distance of the bathing room when you finally ripped a new one into Yelena. She was all smiles, of course.
“But did you notice how often he looked at you?” She teased, and as much as you wanted to let that lighten your spirits, it only dampened them further.
“You don’t know how he felt though… he was… disgusted.” You whimpered, the ghost of his feelings blooming in your chest again.
“He did not look very disgusted, at all. In fact, when you stood up like you were possessed, his hand went down to cover his -”
“That’s why he was disgusted. With himself.” Your voice cracked and Yelena sighed.
“I am sorry, (Y/N). But I really would not have bothered you with this if I did not think you were the best solution,”
You stared at her for a long while, her eyes soft and sincere, and you nodded once.
~
You were relieved that the next time you saw Spider-Man he was fully suited up. Not that it did much to hide his body though.
“How’d the conversation with Dr. Banner go?” You asked, your legs hanging over the edge of the rooftop while holding out your wrap to Spider-Man.
He did a double take at the offer but nodded reluctantly, lifting up his mask just enough that he could bite into the food before pulling it back down.
“Really good. I’ve got something in the works and I think I’m close to getting it right.” He swallowed the food and you stared at him as he watched the city below.
After a few quiet moments, you spoke up, “Can I ask you something?” His heart rate shot up.
He turned his attention towards you, “What is it?”
“You don’t have to answer this but there’s clearly a reason you’re asking about genetic suppression and going so far as to be ‘working on something’. Is everything okay? Like, with you?” You didn’t wear a mask when on-duty, so your expression was clear on your face for him to read.
You two sat there in silence for a minute, his goggles somehow flexing as if he were scanning your features. After a moment, he responded, “I’m not not okay.”
You chuckled lightly, “That doesn’t sound too reassuring,”
He echoed your laugh and shook his head, “I don’t know what’s going on. I’m not sure if this is a ‘season’ kind of thing, or if I’m changing into who or what I am now.” He returned his attention to the street, “It’s… it’s growing inside me. I just wake up in random spots all over the city, surrounded by my webs which, somehow, my body is now producing on its own.” He lifted a hand in front of his face in observation, twisting it around and examining it. “Look.” The glove was ripped off his hand and he exposed his wrist to you.
You quietly gasped at the anomaly on his wrist. There was a hole there, new and swollen like a fresh wound. You instinctively reached out, grazing your fingertips over the seam and froze at the whine that came from his lips.
“I-I’m sorry!” You flushed, pulling your hand back and awkwardly resting it at your side.
If you had been anybody else, you might’ve missed the miniscule way his body jerked towards you before hesitation took command. “No, i-it’s okay. Everything is fresh to me, like I’m learning how to be Spider-Man all over again but this time it’s like my senses are tuned in at the max capacity,”
You shifted your weight, swaying gently back and forth, “Sounds… painful,”
The crack in his voice caught you off guard, “It is. But what’s worse is it’s scary. Unpredictable. One minute I’m swinging solid through the city and the next, I’m diving face first into cement. But this-this device that I’m making, it should be strong enough to inhibit the hormonal imbalances that have been fluctuating recently.”
He’s not okay. Your poor Pete, he’s stifling himself in his solitude.
“You know, if you ever need someone to talk to about all this,” you waved your hand around in a grand gesture, “superhero stuff, you can always talk to me. What we do is tough and doing it alone is impossible. Even Yelena and I have girls’ night every so often, maybe you should come. Unwind, cause a little chaos. Be human. It’s important.” You sighed at the breeze that brushed along your cheek, “I don’t know where I would be if it wasn’t for her. We all need somebody. Humans are social creatures.”
He rejected the idea before it could settle between his ears, “Yeah, well, spiders aren’t,”
“You were you before you were a superhero,” you scolded, no longer tolerant of his pessimism, “You’d do well to remember that,”
“I’ve lost-”
“What the hell is that?” You startled, your finger pointing down at the literal tank crushing through the streets.
Spider-Man groaned, dragging his hands down his face in theatrics, “Frank,” He grumbled and shot down the side of the building with you hot on his tail – or web?
You caught yourself mid-stride, feeling your power wrap around your body like a protective sheath and lift you into the air, falling gracefully to keep up with Spidey. This feeling never got old, it was a sensation of freedom others only dreamed of experiencing and you savored every second of it. The mist of your magic emanated off you gently, its presence hardly visible but certainly palpable. You descended, quickly catching up to the freight train of a disaster that Frank was causing.
Peter landed on the hood of the vehicle when an explosion rang out and a missile launched him clear off the tank. Your hand flew out to catch him but your eyes widened when Peter gripped the missile and redirected its course, throwing it straight back into the floor of the van, missing you by a hair’s fraction. You whipped around when the automobile flipped over and you caught it instead, flipping it right-side up and gently placing it down on the street.
Frank gruffed and you flew up to him, checking the bleeding split on his forehead. It had taken a few different instances to have Frank comfortable enough with you that he would let you check on him after fights. He typically didn't let anyone near him but he had grown a soft spot for you, he had recognized your pain and let it be the connection between you two.
You didn’t have time to let the incredulity of what Peter had just done catch you off guard for a second. You had to stay focused and make sure Frank was good before moving on. Guessing by the never-ending streak of swear words though, you’d guess he was fine.
“Go home, Frank!” Spider-Man shouted, not once turning around to face the debris he left in his trail.
“And then this kid has the fucking nerve to throw my own rocket launcher back at me,” he bitched to himself and you wrapped your power around each weapon in the vehicle, disarming them in an instant.
“Then don’t have rocket launchers in your arsenal,” you chided, “easy fix.”
“That shits expensive!” He called to you when you bounded after Spider-Man.
“Sorry, Frank! You can put them back together at home!” You called behind yourself, never taking your eyes off the quickly disappearing red suit.
What was his problem? That was careless of him at best and fatal of him at worst. If you hadn’t caught the van mid-flip, the likelihood of the rest of Frank’s weapons going off could’ve killed anyone within a few miles radius. “What the hell is your problem?” You shouted inside his mind, knowing he was too far ahead to hear you even if you screamed at the top of your lungs.
The invasion in his head didn’t cause him to falter, he moved fluidly, the red of his suit vanishing before your eyes as he whipped around a corner. How was he moving so quickly? You’d never seen him move that fast before, or act so indignantly. This couldn’t be Peter – or Spider-Man, whatever they wanted to call him. Peter is careful and always in control, these were acts of carelessness you would’ve yelled at him for previously. Then it hit you, this couldn’t be Peter because it wasn’t. Whatever was happening, whatever recklessness he acted upon, it was the persona that he had been so concerned about earlier. And you had underestimated just how powerful it was.
“Wait for me! You need to calm down!” You yelled over the roaring wind whizzing past you. You didn’t know what could possibly have triggered the change so suddenly, he was just fine a second ago.
You whipped around the corner and stopped abruptly at the scene before you.
The Scorpion lay on the floor, his laughs reverberating through his chest at every blow Peter landed to his face. And he was just eating them up. No pain, no registration that Peter was now not Spider-Man but something different entirely.
You caught Peter’s next blow before it could land, his hand paused mid-air with your shimmer engulfing it.
“Aww, she’s cute, Peter. But that’s not MJ, now I see why your guilt’s eating you alive. I wouldn’t be able to resist that either,” he tsked, his eyes now landing on yours, “Let’s see what it feels like to be inside you,”
“Like hell,” Spider-Man growled, his fist breaking through the entrapment around it. You flinched at the sound the contact made.
Scorpion dodged his next attack, using his tail as leverage to gain some distance between them then shot the metal configuration back to Spidey in a meager attempt to land a blow. It was pathetic, a sorry excuse for an attack. You watched on, examining his fighting methods a little longer when something clicked for you as your power swirled around him, seeping into his skull.
Scorpion’s possessed.
And taunting Peter. The comment he made earlier at you, it wasn't sexual. It was literal, she wanted to get inside your head. The presence – this girl – knew Scorpion was no match. Her goal wasn’t to hurt Spider-Man, it was to break him from the inside out. She wanted him vulnerable and easier to control.
“Get the fuck out of my head!” She shouted at you and Peter grabbed its tail, whipping it around like he was a toy, throwing his body onto the hood of an incoming police car.
“Peter!” You shouted, your feet starting towards the injured officer in the vehicle. You ripped the door open before you reached it and threw your hands up, letting your essence morph into the car, quickly getting familiar with its design and resetting all the crushed parts until the cop inside could easily slide out.
You sighed in relief when a few other cars pulled up behind them, one of them being an ambulance whose medics immediately jumped into action.
“Did you call me Peter?” You froze at the nearness of his voice, the hairs on the back of your neck raising in warning.
A tight hand wrapped around your upper arm and you were dragged up into his webs, gripping onto him as he led you two away from the scene. He didn’t go far, landing on a rooftop near enough that if DeWolff needed the two of you, you’d be accessible.
“I knew you smelled familiar.” Peter circled you and you remained stunned like a deer in headlights. “Your scent, it drives him mad. Has for years. He’s so weak for you and he doesn’t even know why. But you do, don’t you?”
Your eyes darted around you, trying to land on anything to avoid looking at whatever was controlling Peter right now. He paced in front of you and those black pits for eyes caught your breath in your throat.
“Peter…” you choked, “What’s happening to you?”
“You!” He shouted back, spit flying from his mouth in a foaming anger. “You’re the witch that played with our head!”
“I-I’m not – I didn’t,” you started to defend.
“You did! Now look at us, what I have to deal with! He’s broken, weak!” His voice dropped with every insult.
You felt your power tingling on the tips of your fingers and let it do its own bidding. You felt as it slithered down to the ground to get closer to him, all you had to do was keep him distracted.
“You’re not weak, Pete. You were never weak!”
“Do not call us by that name!”
His brutal tone stopped your power in its track, only beginning again when you regained control of your breathing.
“What are you?” You interrogated, an accusing glare shot his way. His pacing made you nervous, not for your safety but for Peter. You had never seen him so crazed, and when he ripped the mask off, you gasped at the pitch black of his eyes. “Peter, what’s happening to you?”
He hurdled the mask towards the door of the roof, the material landing with a loud plop. Your hand shot out in instinct, your grip on his jaw tight, forcing him not to move so you could study him. His pain, it was all there in those eyes, in the way that the creases on his face hardened, in the tick of his jaw when you grabbed him. It oozed out of him, grimy and suffocating.
Peter’s hand wrapped around your wrist, a low groan emanating from him while his other hand held the back of your elbow. He let you observe him, do your studying. He wanted your eyes on him and him alone. If becoming a monster was what it took to get your attention, he’d do it 100x over. His hold on your arm tightened when he caught your scent, the fragrance tugging mercilessly at the part of his mind he knew had been tampered with. Then it was him with the deadly lock on your throat, slowly dragging you up into the air until your feet dangled and the tips of your shoes scraped along the loose gravel.
“What did you do to us?” He growled, those malignant sockets burrowing deep into your skull. He brought you down to his face, his turn to do the observing before taking a deep whiff of the air around you. “You still use the same perfume.” You croaked when the individual lines on the suit of his fingers dug so deep into your skin that they were distinguishable. “You know, when he passes by someone and they smell even remotely similar to you he stops in his tracks. And he never knows why.” Another whiff and the tremble that racked your body was not fear.
“It’s kind of a rarity how stupid he is. Naïve, for sure. Gullible, even. But the reactions he has when you’re around and he’s never once questioned why. He thinks he’s weak, betraying his precious –”
“Stop!” You shouted, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, “Just stop.”
“How long has it been for you?” He purred against your neck, inhaling deeply for a third time, “How long have you ached for us?”
Fuck.
He smirked at the sound you made in response. You wanted to answer, to let yourself have this one moment of weakness. The dam had been building for so long in your core and there was only so much you could do to subside the waters it held back at every thought of Peter. Of your Peter.
But this wasn’t your Peter.
“I could remind you.” Your body tensed at the sensation of his tongue dragging across your neck to the base of your ear, “Remind you how we feel. Or how deep we used to go. Because we did, right? You and him, there’s an attachment there like a bond and it just won’t fucking quit. It’s always there in the back of his mind just so persistent.”
You kicked out, planting both your feet on his abdomen and pushing off to release his hold from around your neck. You landed hard, your palms stinging with the loose gravel below and you flinched, a cough emitting from your dry mouth while you rubbed the reddening, tender flesh.
“How much do you know?” You questioned, your voice hoarse.
“Not enough but I’m a culmination of everything he’s trying to ignore about himself, and you’re in there. So, we’re gonna find out.” His shoulders broadened as he stepped towards you and your hand slowly raised in his direction.
“I’m sorry, Peter,” you whispered, “Sleep,” and the mist danced its way from your bleeding hand to engulf his body, the spell immediately overcoming him and cushioning his fall before he hit the ground. “You're not supposed to remember anything,”
~
“I can only block so many of them off before she finds someone else to jump to!” You shouted over the wind, Peter struggling to keep up with how fast you were flying.
You had met up with Spiderman after last nights events and quickly came to the conclusion that he had no recollection of what happened the night before. He spoke to you the way he normally did, with a hint of a stutter and insecurity riddled within. Not at all the way he sounded when he was speaking to you on the roof. There was a confidence, a fury, that emanated from his voice when the Arachnid had control of Peter. The signs were clearly distinguishable of who was in control today.
“We have to get to MJ, that’s who she’s going after!” He shouted back, his webs whizzing past you pulled taught as he threw his weight on them to swing.
You nearly halted, there’s no way you’d be able to meet her. Her name was hardly something you tolerated, much less seeing her in person. You couldn’t face the person that Peter chose to fixate on. To replace you with.
“She’s right up ahead!” Peter shouted, snapping your attention back to the present.
But she needed help, just like anybody else.
You slowed your pace slightly, the sting of the cold wind making your ears throb. Peter landed gracefully on a fire escape and threw the window open. You turned away when the air blew the curtain aside and made yourself busy with scouting the streets for any sign of the ‘Jumper’.
“You have to trust me!” Peter shouted from behind you and there was a pause right before he jumped out of the building with a curly-haired woman in his arms.
You weren’t expecting it to sting this bad. You knew it was going to hurt but the sudden weight in your chest sunk so deep you were too dense to lift yourself up into the sky. Like a rock sinking through the water… down… down… down until it was lost to the darkness of the sea. You were hardly unfamiliar with this feeling, you’ve actually grown accustomed to its presence always lingering - like a ghost someone would catch a glimpse of out of the corner of their eyes but had no proof of it actually happening. A haunting. That was the most accurate portrayal of your emotions.
You watched as he swung past, his concern so clearly etched onto his face even through his mask it was perceptible. He held her gently, considerate enough to show her tenderness while he relished the feel of her body against his again. You ignored the feeling of relief blooming in your chest – you knew it wasn’t yours. He loved her. Fuck. He loves her. More than anyone or anything. More than you. A cry left your lips against your wishes and the dam you’d spent so long constructing broke right along with your composure. Your chest tightened as you wailed, the sobs shuddering through your body and your tears salty on your tongue. You felt so stupid, so pathetic every time your cries rang in your ear. How could you let this happen? You should’ve talked to Dr. Strange and forced him to find an alternative or put up more of a fight when he pulled you aside to let you know what needed to be done. This wasn’t fair, you weren’t even the one to cast the spell and here you were dealing with its repercussions. But Dr. Strange had convinced you that was the price of being a hero: dealing with the consequences that no one else could.
This was why you couldn’t be here. Why you had left home so long ago and continued to fight the temptation to come back. Even at your get-togethers with Yelena, you were despondent whenever the thought that maybe – just maybe – Peter would walk into whatever bar you and Yelena had claimed for the night, his eyes would catch yours and he would just know.
The wind grew restless around you, windows along the fire escape cracking, a perfect reflection of your power finding a way out despite the resistance. When your knees gave out from under you, you jumped. The howling wind whipping past your face dried the tears almost instantly and when the ground approached too close for comfort, you caught yourself, snatching yourself jarringly in the air and rushing to catch up to Peter and get this the hell over with.
In all your grief, you never noticed the redhead on the street below you with her head cocked to the side or the tingle of her possession waiting patiently at the entrance of your mind.
Don’t think. Just do. Turn it off, turn everything inside all off. You wouldn’t live through the day if you had to face this situation any longer, wouldn’t breathe through the density of your decisions or your self-pity.
You landed hard on the roof, your presence echoing across the building but your power remained wrapped around you, ready to take off at any semblance of an unwanted emotion surfacing. When you saw them standing so close to each other you averted your gaze and crossed your arms over your chest, leaning against the neon ‘Silver’ sign as if you couldn’t be bothered.
You got to work on your spell as they conversed, trying your hardest to block Peter, and everything he was feeling, out. You leaned your head against the brick wall behind you and closed your eyes, letting the cool air fill your lungs to ground yourself back into the present. A warmth radiated from the tips of your fingers and you imagined MJ in your mind’s eye, bringing your hands up to touch the temples of her head when what felt like electricity tensed your entire body and Peter shouted when MJ’s body began to convulse as yours did.
You screamed, your head slowly lifting higher as you instinctively tried to break the current flowing through you until you pulled your spell away from her and you both dropped.
“You would interrupt their kiss,” MJ hissed when she caught her breath. “But come on, Peter? Really? True love’s kiss conquers all? She’d be disgusted,”
When she finally got up off the floor, MJ sauntered towards you and lifted your lolled head by your chin to stare into her eyes. “That’s some parlor trick you’ve got there,” she complimented, “Let’s see how you like mine,”
And the electricity was back, your mind just as resistant to entry as hers was. Her grip on your chin tightened, her body tensing with yours as she pushed harder to get past those walls your magic had wrapped defensively around your mind. You could feel her intrusion, her power similar to yours in the way it slithered along the fortress to find any cracks. And just like the windows you’d left in the fire escape, she found them. You convulsed harder, your throat croaking in resistance to the sensation.
“Give – in!” She yelled, her body shaking when she applied more pressure.
“Fu-ck y-you,”
The cracks in your defense deepened at the onslaught of strength she attacked with, her power stomping along the barriers of your mind until one of the deepest cracks finally gave way – and she was in.
Your convulsing stopped and you felt raw when the memories you’d dug so deep into the void were forced to the surface and with it, all the pain of the life you had to give up. You wrapped your hands around her throat, your body acting without direction in its own defense, an advantage provided to you by your magic.
MJ’s mouth gurgled as her intruder scoured your thoughts, your memories, your pain. It called to her, demanding to be addressed by you but desperate enough to be handled by anyone. And when the root memory associated with the lure made itself known, she brought it forth to the surface to add to her arsenal.
Her confusion, disbelief and even admiration bloomed in your chest all at once and you clutched it, using her emotions as a link between you two to find her center and shove her out. You moved in sync, your body and mind two separate forces with mirroring actions, lurching forward in attack. You threw her down onto her back, your grip tightening til she clawed at your bare wrist and drew blood.
“Get the fuck out of my head,” you growled, watching the mischief in her smile fade.
Your eyes widened when a wrapped around your wrist.
“Let her go,” Spider-Man warned and your eyes softened at the interference.
Let her go? Let her GO? Your gaze darted back to a satisfied looking MJ, Where the fuck was he a second ago for YOU?
Your eyes darkened and a dry chuckle came from MJ when you relaxed your hold.
“It’s not her,” He defended, noting the venom laced in your expression, “You know it’s not,”
“Let. Me. Go.” You spat, the walls you’d built over the years re-fortifying.
“You don’t think he’s done that enough?” She taunted from below you and your vision turned hot-fire white.
A new type of possession overcame you, not from her but absolutely from her doing. You erupted in power, burrowing it directly into MJ’s head, her screams ricocheting in your ears. “My turn,” unlike how she found a weak spot in your defenses, you created one in hers, “Show me where you’re hiding,” You locked onto her essence, the evidence of her power in MJ’s body and wrapped around it like a boa constrictor as she tried to retreat. Her presence changed its texture, turning slimy in an attempt to loosen itself from your hold. You could change forms too though, and you clawed into her like prey. The laugh that came from you was not altogether yours, “Uh-uh,” you amusedly chastised.
And then you went flying, knees and palms scratched open when you tried to catch yourself in the gravel.
“Stop!” Spider-Man shouted across the roof at you.
Chuckling, you stood back up on your feet and faced him, the gravel around you slowly levitating from your rising power, your magic an entity of its own.
MJ’s body got up off the floor and she defensively stood behind him. You cocked your head at the sight, your eyes never leaving her face.
“You’re a fucking coward. You’re hiding behind Strange’s spell,” She shouted. Peter’s head snapped in her direction.
“Shut the fuck up.” The neon sign you were leaning on before caved in, the bulbs inside shattering as it fell and you growled, “You wanted to feel my pain? Take it.” And shadows launched towards the two of them, the white mist now replaced by dark embers that wrapped around you.
“(Y/N), stop!” Spider-Man shouted.
“Actually, Peter, I think I’ve held back enough,” you responded, your exterior calm in complete opposition to the storm of magic raging. MJ’s body lurched at the onslaught and she fell to her knees with her head in her hands. Peter’s webs were flying towards you but the density of your raging power suspended the attack in the air, never allowing the threat into your vicinity. You glared daggers at him, your disgust growing at each attempt he made to break through the barricade to get to you. You raised your left hand up in the air, suspending him momentarily before pining him against an opposing wall to separate the two.
“(Y/N)! Don’t you dare fucking touch her!” His threat fell on deaf ears.
“Let me go!” MJ cried and you pushed deeper into her mind, scouring its alleys to find the redheaded coward.
“I think it’s time you’ve left now, Jean,” you muttered, her head snapped up at the mention of her name and you ripped her out of MJ’s mind, slamming an impenetrable barricade down around it that would allow no one entry again.
MJ, the real MJ, slumped down and you caught her in graceful hands, placing her down gently while the restraints against Peter retreated back into you.
“She’ll be fine,” you whispered, brushing her hair out of her face when you felt Peter’s presence behind you, “Jean won’t be able to touch her mind again,”
A tear slowly trickled down your face and you stood up, your gaze low. MJ rose into the air with you and you draped her into Peter’s open arms. “H-How did you do that?” He asked, his grip firming around her body.
You wiped away at the tear and cleared your throat, “It looks like you’ve got this under control -”
“-Under control? What are you talking abou-”
“- so I think it’d be best if you handled this alone.” You turned your back towards him and walked towards where you thought Yelena’s compound would be.
Gravel crunched under Spider-Man’s feet as he got to you, “I can’t do this without you. I’m not really sure what just happened but –”
“What happened,” you interjected, “was that you thought I would hurt her. What happened is that when I needed help you did nothing because it would mean you had to go up against MJ but when you thought I was hurting her, you stopped me multiple times.” You stated, your back still turned to him, “What happened is that you thought I would hurt an Innocent. You had no faith in me.” You shook your head, your vision blurring once again. You couldn’t blame him, you knew you couldn’t. He didn’t know who you were anymore, he only knew you by the few times you’d come across each other when helping around the city or fighting mutual threats. Even knowing this, your chest ached that he thought you would hurt someone. A vessel or not. Your intention wasn’t to hurt her but you had to scare Jean enough to make her think you would.
“How do you know my name?” He asked and you froze.
Time slowed down within you. Did you tell him? Jean did mention Dr. Strange’s spell and it would just be so easy to let him know the truth. You didn’t know how much longer you could live with watching Peter not be your Peter anymore. Not know you or your history together. Not be able to hold him, to smell him, to feel his warmth against you – inside you. Your body longed for him but your soul needed him in ways that couldn’t be ignored. It was destroying you and you’d tried for years to let go – to move on to something safer for everyone. You didn’t want this, you didn’t know you’d be sacrificing your soul when you’d agreed to Strange’s idea. You thought it’d be temporary. That, although yes, he’d forget about you, you could reintroduce yourself and start over, maybe even get back to how you were before this entire clusterfuck. But after months of trying and helping him on missions and coincidentally running into him on the street, his resistance to you never changed. His attention was elsewhere.
And all you had to do, right now in this very moment, was tell him the truth.
“S-She said it earlier,” your voice broke.
But who were you to potentially put the multiverse at risk again. And right along with that – Peter himself.
The hope blossoming in your chest died and your hand clawed at the sensation there.
“Her name is Jean Grey, she’s a telepath,” you offered the information up, “She’s going to hit the Department of Damage Control next. Be ready,”
“(Y/N),” Peter’s gentle voice rose from behind you and you turned to face him, not caring if he saw the way your tears flooded your cheeks. He stopped hesitantly, “T-Thank you. For saving MJ,”
Your lips pulled tight against each other and you nodded, “Goodbye Peter,”
Does someone have fics recommendations about Peter Parker x reader angst where he still love MJ so reader feel left behind or something like that pls ? I’m craving so angst 😫
ೃ༄* Warnings: angst, rebound, peter just doesn't really care.
ೃ༄* Random little blurb, thought of it when i was building some lego last week. part 2 of 'And my heart is full of doubt'
Edit: A lot of people are asking for a part 3, but idk what to do so I’m down for suggestions.
Taglist
“Ta-da!”
Peter looks up from his phone, curled up on the couch.
You’re standing in the doorway with a cardboard box held carefully in both hands, smiling so brightly that for a second, he almost feels guilty for not smiling back..
“It’s the new Star Wars Lego set!” You beam, and set it down in front of him on the coffee table and do a little dance. It’s more like jazz hands, but it’s adorably endearing, to some.
Peter just stares at the box. “Oh.” He says.
Your smile falters slightly. “I thought it might cheer you up.”
Peter glances at you, and sighs.
He’s exhausted. There’s a bruise blooming along his jaw, his lip is split, and he’s been sitting there for almost an hour trying not to make a fuss over his definitely broken rib.
You don't know any of that, though. You’re worried, but he won’t tell you anything. You keep asking if he’s okay, but he says he’s fine, that he’s just clumsy.
You just know your boyfriend has been miserable lately.
So you’d spent your day looking for something to cheer him up.
He’d mentioned the set in passing, a little comment as you walked past a store with the Lego completed in the window. But you remembered. You remembered and spent the last 6 weeks saving up for it, hoping to make him happy.
“Maybe tonight we could build it together?” You ask softly.
Peter looks back down at the box. “[Y/n], I don't really feel like doing Lego.” He sighs.
“Oh.” You nod, quickly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Right. Yeah. Of course.”
He winces with tired eyes. “I’m sorry.”
You shake your head with your eyebrows furrowed. “No, no, it’s okay.” You pick up the box again. “I can put it away.”
“Y/n, come on. You don't have to.” He huffs
You wave your hand in dismissal. “You don't want to build it, it’s okay. We can do it another night.” Your voice wavers.
Peter rubs his face. “Can we not do this right now?” He groans in frustration.
Your fingers tighten around the box. “…Do what?”
“This.”
You blink. “I was just trying to cheer you up.” You try to smile.
“I know, but sometimes I just—I want some of space, and quiet. Okay?”
“Oh…Yes-Yeah. Of course! I will uh…put this away, I guess. Sorry.” You say, giving him a tiny smile.
Peter watches you take the Lego set to your room, presumably to put it away like you said.
He sees the way your shoulders have risen to your ears and how tense they are. How nervous you look walking away.
He knows he should stop you and tell you it was sweet, that you didn't have to buy him anything, that he appreciates you. ‘Thank you, baby. I love it.’ He should say.
But his mind is somewhere else, with someone else. And you don't know that.
So you sit cross-legged on the floor that evening, completely unaware, carefully sorting the tiny Lego pieces into little piles.
And every so often, you glance toward Peter, scrolling through his phone.
“Look,” You say quietly, holding up a tiny little Lego R2-D2. “Isn't he cute?” You smile.
Peter barely looks up, humming in agreement.
Your smile wobbles, and you lower your hand into your lap, looking at the little figure.
You don’t even want to build anymore. The idea was that Peter would look over, think it looked fun, and would sit down and join you.
But he seems way too interested in scrolling on his phone. Looking at Ned’s instagram, again, unbeknownst to you.
So you just go back to building, quietly, all by yourself.
summary: you’ve always had this strange feeling that you'd loved someone before. you tried to ignore it because it was stupid. you'd never been in love before. you'd never even really liked anyone at all. until you moved into a new apartment and met your upstairs neighbor, peter parker, who somehow feels very familiar. you know he’s hiding something. and you’re determined to find out what.
tags/warnings: angst, fluff, no smut!!, no bnd spoilers, stalker reader, awkward peterrrrrrr, reader finds the note!!, hurt/comfort, reader is nosy. (did not realize how long this would be..)
♬.ᐟ - about you by the 1975
feeling strangely drawn to your upstairs neighbor was not on your bingo card.
it was stupid. ever since you met him in the elevator when you first moved into the building, there had been something strange about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. you still remembered the way he’d looked at you that first night. his eyes had widened the second the elevator doors opened, he’d just stood there staring at you with a completely blank expression. you’d even wondered if there was something on your face.
you’d tried to make the interaction less awkward, offering to press his floor for him when you noticed he hadn’t pushed a button yet. he’d mumbled something about the floor number, and you’d reached over and pressed it for him, only to spend the rest of the ride standing beside a complete stranger in the most uncomfortable silence imaginable.
when the elevator stopped at the fourth floor, he’d suddenly stepped out. you’d watched him walk away before looking at the number above the doors and realizing he didn’t even live there.
you’d almost laughed but you didn’t.
because when he’d turned around to look at you one last time before the doors closed, there was something in his expression that made you stop.
he looked sad.
you didn’t understand why. you’d never seen him before. at least, you didn’t think you had.
when you eventually saw him again, he introduced himself as peter. although, judging by the way he’d stumbled over the name and immediately looked away afterward, you weren’t entirely convinced he’d meant to say it. it almost seemed like he’d been about to give you a completely different name before changing his mind at the last second. you’d thought about asking him, but you figured it wasn’t your business. maybe he was just awkward. maybe he was one of those people who gets nervous around strangers.
either way, you let it go.
besides, you thought he was cute. which probably didn’t help. because after that, you started noticing him everywhere.
sometimes you’d see him in the hallway when you were coming home from work, his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie as he walked toward the stairs. other times you’d catch him leaving the building early in the morning, looking like he hadn’t slept at all. every time you saw him, you’d try to make conversation, mostly because you were trying to be friendly with your new neighbor.
“hey, peter,” you said when you saw him walking toward you one morning.
he looked up and immediately seemed surprised to see you, even though you lived in the same building and this wasn’t exactly the first time you’d run into each other. “oh, hey,” he said, giving you a small smile that looked a little forced. you were about to ask him how he was when you noticed the dark bruise along his cheek.
“oh my god, are you okay?” you asked, your eyes immediately going to the bruise.
he seemed to realize what you were looking at and quickly touched his cheek. “what? oh, yeah. yeah, i’m fine. it’s nothing.”
“that doesn’t look like nothing,” you said, looking at him a little closer. there was another small cut near his eyebrow that you hadn’t noticed at first, now you were wondering how many times he’d come home looking like this without you saying anything.
“no, it’s fine,” he insisted, giving you that awkward little smile again. “i mean, obviously the bruise isn’t fine because, you know, it’s a bruise, but i’m fine. completely fine.”
you couldn’t help but laugh a little at the way he was rambling. “what happened?”
he hesitated, his eyes shifting away from yours before he shrugged. “i fell.”
“you fell?”
“yeah.”
“on your face?”
he looked at you for a second before giving you an embarrassed smile. “yeah, well, it was more of a… full body situation.” he rubbed the back of his neck, clearly trying to think of a better explanation. “i’m kind of clumsy.”
you raised an eyebrow. “you’re really bad at lying, you know that?”
he froze for half a second before laughing nervously. “yeah, i’ve been told that.”
the way he said it made you wonder who else had told him that before.
you both stood there in silence for a moment, neither of you really knowing what to say next. you couldn’t help but stare at him, and he seemed to be doing the same thing, his eyes meeting yours before quickly dropping to the floor. there was something almost familiar about the way he looked at you, something you couldn’t explain, you wondered if maybe you were imagining it.
he glanced toward the stairs, then back at you, looking like he was debating whether he should say something.
“well, i should probably go,” he rocks back on his heels, suddenly seeming unsure of what to do with himself. “i have, uh… things.” and then he'd leave.
at first, you didn’t think anything of it.
then you realized he was doing it on purpose.
he’d take the stairs if you were waiting for the elevator. he’d suddenly become very interested in his phone whenever you walked into the lobby. once, you saw him coming down the hallway, noticed him notice you, and watched him turn around and walk back toward the stairs without saying a word. you’d stood there for a second, completely confused. what was his problem? you hadn’t done anything to him. if anything, you’d been trying to be nice.
but the more he avoided you, the more curious you became. there was something about him that drew you in, and you hated that you couldn’t explain what it was. sure, he was cute, and you weren’t going to pretend you hadn’t noticed that.
but it wasn’t just that.
there was something familiar about him.
you’d catch yourself thinking about him sometimes, trying to figure out why being around him made your chest feel strangely warm. like your body recognized something your mind couldn’t.
and that feeling wasn’t new.
you’d had it for years.
you’ve always had this strange feeling that you’ve loved someone before.
you’ve never really known how to explain it because every explanation sounded stupid the second you said it out loud. it wasn’t a memory, there was no specific person you could picture. it was more like a feeling you couldn’t explain, something that would come back whenever you were alone with your thoughts, especially on nights when you couldn’t sleep.
you knew what love was supposed to feel like. you’d watched your friends fall in love, listened to them talk about their first dates and first kisses, watched them become completely love crazy over people they’d met only a few months before. you’d seen it in movies and read about it in books, so you knew the feeling was real. you’d just never experienced it yourself. at least, not that you remembered. you’d never had a boyfriend. you’d never been in a serious relationship. you’d never even had that one person you couldn’t stop thinking about.
and yet, you knew you’d loved someone.
you knew it with a kind of certainty that made absolutely no sense. sometimes, you dreamed about them. you could never remember their face when you woke up, no matter how hard you tried. you’d lie there in the darkness, staring at your ceiling, trying to remember what your mind had shown you before it slowly faded away.
you never could.
all you ever remembered were pieces. warm hands wrapped around yours. the feeling of your head resting against someone’s shoulder while their fingers played with your hair. sometimes you’d remember the feeling of being held, and that was always the worst part.
because whoever they were, you had loved them.
you could feel it.
and every time you woke up, it felt like you’d lost someone. someone you couldn’t even prove had ever existed.
you’d tried explaining it to mj once. she’d listened to you for a few minutes before giving you the most confused look you’d ever seen.
“so you’re telling me you’ve never dated anyone, but you think you’re secretly in love with someone?”
you’d frowned. “when you say it like that, it sounds crazy.”
“because it is crazy.”
you’d thrown a pillow at her.
she’d laughed and told you that you were probably romanticizing some random dream you’d had. maybe she was right. eventually, you’d decided it was easier to believe that.
maybe it was another life. another universe. some version of you that had lived a completely different life and fallen in love with someone you would never meet.
it was stupid. you knew it was stupid, so you stopped talking about it.
you stopped trying to remember the face you could never see and the name you could never remember. you stopped wondering why you seemed to miss someone your life had never known.
until you met your upstairs neighbor, peter.
because somehow, the second you met him, that feeling you’d spent years trying to forget started coming back. you couldn’t figure out why. you couldn’t figure out why peter made you feel like you’d known him long before you’d ever stepped into that elevator.
you couldn’t figure out why he looked at you like he was afraid of something. and you definitely couldn’t figure out why, every time you got a little too close, he seemed desperate to get away from you.
but you were going to figure it out.
because if there was one thing you knew about your upstairs neighbor, it was that he was hiding something.
there was a reason he came home at three in the morning, usually looking exhausted and sometimes barely able to keep his eyes open. there was a reason you would wake up to loud bangs coming from his apartment, followed by the sound of something hitting the floor and, every once in a while, a muffled groan of pain that made you wonder if you should actually go upstairs and check on him.
there was a reason you kept seeing him with bruises scattered across his face and small cuts along his hands, and there was definitely a reason he always seemed to have some stupid excuse ready whenever you asked about them.
and you had a feeling whatever he was hiding had something to do with you.
it’s been a couple of days and you’ve learned your upstairs neighbor’s schedule. no, you’re not stalking him. well… maybe you are, but you prefer to think of it as being observant. you know what time he usually leaves his apartment in the morning, roughly what time he comes home, and you can always tell when he’s home because there’s almost always some kind of noise coming from above you. sometimes it’s a loud thump, and every once in a while you’ll hear something crash followed by what sounds like him swearing under his breath.
you’ve tired running into him again, for the past couple of days but he just keeps on avoiding you. you know he lives alone in the attic, too, with no roommate or anyone else coming in and out.
so today, you decide you’re going upstairs.
not because you’re nosy.
well maybe because you’re nosy. but mostly because you made cookies, and bringing them to your neighbor seems like a perfectly normal thing to do. definitely not an excuse to finally get him to talk to you for more than thirty seconds.
you stand outside his apartment holding the plate of cookies, questioning why this seemed like a good idea. you take a breath before knocking, waiting a few seconds for ran answer. nothing. you knock again, a little louder this time, and just as you were about to knock a third time, you hear something crash inside the apartment.
you immediately pull your hand back.
“hold up! ow— i’m coming!”
you hear hurried footsteps approaching the door, followed by another muffled cruse, and then the door swings open.
you freeze.
peter is standing in front of you looking like he wasn’t expecting anyone to show up, and judging by the fact that he’s only wearing a pair of boxers, you definitely picked the worst possible time to come over. your eyes widen before you quickly force yourself to look back at his face, although not before noticing the bruises scattered across his chest and arms.
there are more than there were the last time you saw him. your eyebrows pull together as you look at them, suddenly forgetting about the awkward situation you’re standing in. what the hell does this guy do to keep ending up covered in bruises?
peter, meanwhile seems to realize exactly what’s state he’s currently in. his eyes widen as he looks down at himself, and his entire face turned red. he immediately tried to hide behind the door, pulling it closer to himself while still keeping enough room to talk to you.
“uhm… what are you doing here?”
you hold up the plate between you, trying very hard not to look at anything else. “sorry, i just came to give you these. i made some cookies and figured you might want some.”
he looks at the cookies, then back at you, “you made cookies?” he asks, glancing down at them again before looking back at you.
you nod. “yeah.”
“for me?”
“well, technically, they’re for whoever lives up here.”
he gives you a confused look, and you can’t help but smile.
“which is you.”
“right.” he lets out a small laugh, shaking his head at himself. “yeah, i knew that. obviously. i just… wasn’t expecting cookies.”
“why not?”
“i don’t know.” he shrugs, looking down at the plate again. “i mean, people don’t usually bring their upstairs neighbors cookies. at least, not in my experience. maybe that’s normal. i don’t know. i’ve never really had an upstairs neighbor who made cookies before.”
you smile, trying not to laugh at how flustered he is. “are you going to take them, or are you just going to stand there?”
“no, yeah, definitely. sorry.” he reaches for the plate, suddenly seeming to realize how long he’s been making you stand there. “cookies. i love cookies. cookies are great. huge fan.”
you laugh softly. “good to know.”
he’s about to take the plate from you when you glance past him, trying to get a look inside his apartment. you don’t really see much before peter notices what you’re doing and immediately shifts his body, pulling the door a little closer behind him.
“okay…” you say slowly, letting the word drag out as you look between him and the apartment.
he gives you a nervous smile, he already knows he’s been caught doing something suspicious but is desperately hoping you won’t call him out on it.
“okay what?”
“what are you hiding?”
his smile drops for half a second. it’s quick, but you catch it. his eyes flick toward the inside of his apartment before returning to you, and suddenly he looks even more uncomfortable than he did a second ago. “nothing.”
you raise an eyebrow, unconvinced. “that was a very suspicious ‘nothing.’”
he clears his throat, glancing down at the cookies in your hands before looking back at you. “i think you’re reading way too much into this.”
“am i?”
“yeah.”
you glance at the door again before looking back at him. “because you literally moved in front of the door.”
he looks over his shoulder at the apartment, almost as if he’s checking to see whether you’re right. when he looks back at you, his expression is completely innocent.
“did i?”
“yes.”
“huh.” he pauses, pretending to think about it, his eyebrows pulling together as if he’s genuinely confused about how he ended up standing directly in your way. “weird.”
you stare at him for a second, waiting for him to explain himself. instead, he shifts his weight and gives you another nervous smile. “it’s just messy in there. i don’t want you to see it.”
you narrow your eyes at him, unconvinced. “your apartment really is that messy, huh?”
“yeah,” he says a little too quickly. “it’s, uh, really bad.”
“i don’t care if it’s messy.”
“no, you don’t understand.” he laughs nervously, glancing over his shoulder again before looking back at you. “it’s, like, really messy. i’m not being dramatic. it’s actually messy.”
“peter, i’m not asking to inspect your apartment.” you stare at him, completely unimpressed.
“good.” the word comes out way too quickly. he seems to realize how rude that sounded because his eyes widen slightly, and he immediately tries to recover.
“i mean good. because, you know, that would be weird. not that you would be weird for asking. i mean, you’re allowed to ask. obviously. it’s just…” he trails off.
you raise an eyebrow. “why are you acting so weird?”
he doesn’t answer you, neither of you says anything. you just stand there looking at each other, the hallway feels much quieter than it did a few seconds ago. peter seems to realize that he’s staring at you because he suddenly clears his throat and looks down at the cookies in your hands.
“so… cookies.”
you smile. “cookies.”
he reaches for the plate again, this time you let him take it. his fingers brush against yours as he pulls it from your hands, and the second they touch, something inside you shifts.
it’s quick, so quick that you’re not even sure it happened. a strange warmth spreads through your chest, followed by a sudden feeling of familiarity that makes you freeze. for a second, you’re not standing in the hallway of your apartment building anymore. you’re somewhere you can’t quite place, and all you can feel is someone’s hand wrapped around yours. then you blink, and it’s gone. you look down at your hand before slowly looking back at him.
peter is staring at you. his expression has completely changed. the nervous smile is gone. “you okay?” he asks quietly.
you stare at him for another second before nodding. “yeah. i just…” you pause, still trying to make sense of what you felt. “i don’t know. that was weird.”
it almost looks like he wants to ask what you mean, but instead, his gaze drops to the cookies in his hands
“well…” he clears his throat, forcing that awkward little smile back onto his face. “thanks for the cookies.”
you give him a small smile, still distracted by the strange feeling. “you’re welcome.”
he nods quickly. “okay. great. awesome.” he reaches for the door and starts closing it a little too quickly, but just before it shuts completely, you catch one last glimpse of his face. he has that same sad look on his face.
and then the door closes.
you stand there for a moment, staring at it.
you have no idea what just happened, but something about the whole interaction leaves you with the strange feeling that you were supposed to know him.
you finally let out a quiet sigh and turn around, only to look up and notice a giant spiderweb hanging in the corner of the hallway.
you stare at it for a second.
“ew.”
the wind blows, making you shiver as you look up at the sky, the cool air brushing against your face as you sit beside him on the rooftop. he shifts beside you before suddenly pointing toward the clouds, his arm brushing against yours as he tries to get your attention.
“that one looks like a bird,” he says, completely serious.
you follow where he’s pointing, squinting at the clouds for a few seconds before looking back at him with a confused expression. “no it doesn’t.”
“yes, it does.”
“it literally looks like a blob.”
“a bird-shaped blob.”
you shake your head, as you pull your knees closer to your chest, and he gives you an offended look like you’ve just insulted his entire family.
“you suck at this.”
“at what?”
“finding shapes in clouds.”
“okay, first of all, that’s not a skill,” he says, turning toward you with a small smile. “second of all, you’re just not seeing it.”
“because there is nothing to see.”
he looks back up at the sky, studying the cloud for another moment trying to see if he can somehow find a way to prove you wrong before finally looking back at you. “wow. okay. that’s actually kind of hurtful.”
you laugh again, and he can’t help but smile when he hears it. whatever you’d been arguing about seems to disappear completely, neither of you bothering to bring it up again. for a while, you just sit there together, your shoulders pressed against each other as you watch the city.
you lean your head against his shoulder, immediately, he rests his head gently against yours. his hand finds yours between you, his fingers slipping between yours. you look down at your hands, smiling to yourself as your thumb brushes against his.
for a while, you simply sit beside him, watching the city below, until he finally breaks the quiet.
“what do you think we’re gonna be like after high school?”
you lift your head slightly from his shoulder, turning toward him when you realize he’s actually looking at you instead of the city.
“what do you mean?”
“i don’t know.” he shrugs, his fingers starts tracing little circles against the back of your hand. “like… do you think we’ll still be together?”
you stare at him for a second, almost surprised that he’d even have to ask. a small smile pulls at the corner of your lips, squeezing his hand between yours.
“of course we will. when we get into MIT, we’ll move in together with mj and ned.”
“wow.” he looks genuinely impressed, although you can hear the teasing in his voice. “okay, that’s actually kind of terrifying.”
you nudge his shoulder with yours, trying not to laugh. “shut up. you know you’d love it.”
“i never said i wouldn’t.”
“good.”
“i mean, unless you get sick of me.”
his smile disappears almost immediately, and he turns toward you with an expression that makes you realize he’s actually taking the question seriously.
“why would i get sick of you?”
you shrug, picking at the sleeve of your sweater because now you don’t know what to do with your hands. “maybe you’ll get obsessed with saving the world and forget about me,” you tease, resting your head against his shoulder again.
he laughs under his breath, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “i would never.”
“never?”
“never.” the certainty in his voice makes you smile, before you can say anything else, he turns toward you and gently brushes a strand of hair away from your face.
he leans down, pressing a soft kiss against the top of your head before resting his cheek against your hair. you close your eyes, letting yourself sink against him as his hand remains wrapped around yours.
“promise?”
his fingers tighten around yours.
“promise.”
you sit straight up in bed, breathing heavily as your eyes dart around the dark room, your heart pounding so hard you can hear it in your ears. you don’t move, trying to figure out what you just saw. you slowly look around your apartment.
the rooftop. the one you, mj and ned used to go to all the time.
his hand in yours. his voice. the kiss against the top of your head.
you close your eyes, trying to picture his face, but the harder you try, the more it seems to disappear. you don’t understand why. you’ve had dreams about him before, but this one feels different.
it felt too real.
you stare at the ceiling, your fingers curling into the sheets as that heaviness settles over you again, the same feeling you’ve had every time you’ve woken up from one of these dreams. only this time, you can’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t a dream at all.
that somehow, you were remembering something you weren’t supposed to remember. you swallow, staring into the darkness as one thought keeps running through your head.
who the hell was he?
you sit there for another moment before finally whispering to yourself. “what the fuck was that?”
this is a bad idea. a very bad idea.
and, technically, it’s not your fault.
you just happened to see peter on your way out of the apartment building, standing across the street with his hood pulled over his head and his phone pressed against his ear. you weren’t planning on paying attention to him, but something in you was telling you to follow him.
and maybe you shouldn’t, because following your upstairs neighbor around the city is definitely not something a normal person does, but he’s been hiding something from you ever since you met him. so if he wasn’t going to tell you what was going on, then you might as well find out for yourself.
you slow down near the entrance, pretending to check your phone while watching him from the corner of your eye.
he looks suspicious. well, maybe he doesn’t. you’re probably just trying to find a reason to follow him because you’re already convinced he’s hiding something.
but you’ve already noticed how weird he’s been acting around you, how he always seems to be disappearing somewhere, how he comes home very late and covered in bruises, and how he nearly had a heart attack when you glanced inside his apartment.
there is definitely something going on with him.
you watch him end the call and slip his phone into his pocket before starting down the sidewalk.
you hesitate for a moment, watching him get farther away. you should probably just go home. you could turn around right now, go back upstairs, and forget you ever saw him. that would probably be the smart thing to do.
instead, you start walking after him.
“okay,” you mutter under your breath, keeping your distance. “this is fine.” it is definitely not fine.
you glance around to make sure nobody you know is watching before following him around the corner, trying your best to look like you just happened to be going in the same direction.
“i’m not stalking him,” you mutter to yourself, repeating the words over and over again.
you pause for a second before adding, “i’m investigating.” you nod to yourself, almost satisfied with that explanation.
that sounds better.
at least, it does in your head.
you keep walking, trying your best to look casual even though you’re very aware that you’re following your upstairs neighbor down the street. every few seconds, you glance ahead to make sure he’s still there, and then you quickly look away whenever he slows down, just in case he happens to turn around.
peter doesn’t seem to notice.
you’re actually starting to feel pretty confident about this whole thing until he suddenly stops. you immediately stop too, almost running into the back of a parked car because you weren’t expecting him to stop so quickly.
he looks around the street, and you quickly duck behind the car, pressing yourself against the side of it.
god, you probably look so stupid right now.
you stay there for a few seconds before slowly peeking over the hood. peter is still standing there. he checks his phone again, scrolling through something before looking up and scanning the street one more time.
you immediately duck back down.
“oh my god,” you whisper to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut for a second. “what am i doing?”
you slowly peek over the hood again, and this time peter starts walking.
you wait a few seconds before following him, keeping even more distance between you now because you’re starting to realize that you are probably the worst person in the world at following someone without looking suspicious.
he turns another corner, and you follow him.
then he turns again.
you follow him again.
at this point, you’re starting to wonder if he even knows where he’s going because you’ve been walking for what feels like forever, and you have absolutely no idea where you are anymore.
“where the fuck is he even going?” you mumble, watching him from farther down the sidewalk.
peter suddenly starts walking even faster.
you slow down for a second, confused by the sudden change, before picking up your pace again so you don’t lose him.
he’s practically speed walking now, and you have to take longer steps just to keep him in sight.
“seriously?”
you start wondering if maybe there’s somewhere important he needs to be, but there’s nothing around that seems like it would explain why he’s suddenly in such a hurry.
then he turns into an alley.
you stop for a second, staring at the entrance.
“an alley?”
you look around, confused. you look back toward where peter disappeared, debating whether you should actually follow him in there.
you probably shouldn’t.
you know that.
but at this point, you’ve already followed him around, so turning around now feels kind of pointless.
you sigh before walking into the alley. “this is how people die in horror movies,” you mutter under your breath, looking around as you walk. you turn the same corner peter had disappeared around, expecting to see him somewhere ahead of you.
instead, you’re met with a dead end.
you stop walking, staring at the brick wall in front of you before slowly looking around the rest of the alley.
“what?”
you take a few more steps forward, checking the area around you as if peter might somehow be hiding somewhere nearby. you look behind one of the dumpsters, even though you already know that would be stupid. there’s no way this grown man is hiding behind a dumpster. you straighten up and look around again, your eyebrows pulling together as the confusion starts to settle in.
he’s gone.
you turn around and look back toward the entrance of the alley, wondering if maybe he somehow walked past you without you noticing. but you were right behind him. you watched him turn into this alley. you know you did.
so where the hell did he go?
you look back toward the dead end, then up at the buildings surrounding you. your eyes move toward the fire escapes above you, you actually wonder if he somehow climbed one of them.
you immediately shake your head.
“okay, no.” you let out a quiet laugh to yourself, because there’s no way you’re actually standing in an alley trying to figure out how your upstairs neighbor just disappeared.
you run a hand through your hair, before finally sighing.
“i’m losing my fucking mind” you stand there for another moment, staring at the empty space where he should be, trying to make sense of what just happened. you came out here because you were convinced peter was hiding something. you just didn’t expect him to literally disappear.
‹𝟑.ᐟ
after stalking peter and getting absolutely no information because he somehow just randomly disappeared, you decide that maybe following people around the city isn’t exactly your strong suit.
you were going to go home. but instead of heading back to your apartment, you find yourself walking toward the rooftop that you, mj, and ned used to go to all the time.
you’re not really sure why you decided to come here.
well, you do. you had that dream.
you’ve been thinking about it ever since you woke up, and for some reason, standing here feels like the only thing that might help you figure out why the place feels so familiar.
you push open the door leading to the rooftop and step outside, the cool air immediately hitting your face. you take a slow breath as you look around, letting your eyes move across the buildings in the distance.
everything looks almost exactly the same.
even the old spot where you, mj, and ned used to sit whenever you wanted to get away from everyone. you smile a little at the memory, remembering how many nights the three of you had spent up here talking. you stare at it, almost expecting something to happen.
nothing does.
“great,” you mutter to yourself. “that was helpful.” then you notice someone sitting near the edge of the rooftop.
there’s a guy in a red and blue suit sitting on the ledge, looking out over the city it looks like he’s been there for a while.
spider-man.
of course you know who spider-man is. everyone does. you’ve seen him on the news more times than you can count, swinging through the city, stopping robberies, saving people, showing up whenever something goes wrong.
he’s saved you, mj, and ned and a couple of friends from highschool more than once. ned, especially, has always had this weird obsession with him. you’ve lost count of how many times he’s brought spider-man up in conversation. but you’ve never actually talk spider-man. and you definitely weren’t expecting to meet him tonight.
his head suddenly snaps toward you.
you freeze. neither of you says anything. you’re just standing there staring at each other, and you suddenly become very aware of how suspicious you probably look. you slowly raise your hands, almost like you’ve been caught doing something wrong. “oh, i’m sorry. i didn’t know anyone would be up here.”
spider-man immediately stands up, looking almost startled by your presence. “no, no! it’s okay,” he says quickly. “i was actually going to leave.”
you frown a little.
you don’t know why, but the idea of him leaving suddenly makes you feel weirdly disappointed. maybe because you came up here hoping the place would make you feel less confused, and now there’s someone here who might actually distract you from your own thoughts.
“you can stay,” you say, taking a few steps farther onto the rooftop. “i mean, if you want.”
spider-man pauses, almost like he wasn’t expecting you to say that.
“really?” the word comes out a little too quickly, and there’s something almost excited about the way he says it before he suddenly clears his throat, trying to sound more casual.
“i mean, yeah. sure. if you want me to.”
you smile slightly. “i don’t mind.”
you walk over and sit down in the middle of the rooftop, pulling your knees up slightly as you look out at the city. spider-man remains standing near the edge, and when you glance back at him, he looks like he has absolutely no idea what he’s supposed to do now.
it’s almost funny. this is spider-man. the guy who swings between buildings and fights criminals and saves people for a living, and apparently he has no idea where he’s supposed to sit when a girl tells him he can stay.
“you can sit, you know,” you tell him. “i’m not going to bite.”
“right.” he slowly walks over and sits down beside you, although he leaves a very noticeable amount of space between the two of you. you look at the empty space, then at him, then back at the empty space again. “you’re still really far away.”
he lets out a quiet breath that almost sounds like a laugh. “it’s okay. i like sitting right here. nice and comfy.”
you glance at him, trying not to laugh. there’s something ridiculous about watching spider-man sit several feet away from you like he’s afraid getting any closer might somehow be against the rules. “whatever you say, spider-man.”
he smiles underneath his mask.
neither of you says anything. surprisingly, it isn’t awkward. you just sit there beside each other, looking out at the city. cars pass every now and then, their headlights moving across the streets, and a siren sounds somewhere in the distance before fading away.
you pull your knees closer to yourself, resting your arms loosely around them. beside you, spider-man is unusually quiet. he keeps looking out at the city, but every once in a while, you catch him glancing in your direction. you don’t think much of it.
“do you, um… usually hang out here?”
you shake your head. “no, not really. the last time i was up here was during senior year of high school. it was kind of a spot for me and my friends. whenever we wanted to get away from everyone for a while, we’d come up here.”
spider-man tilts his head slightly. “your friends?”
“yeah.” you smile faintly. “mj and ned.”
his shoulders tense for the briefest second, and his gaze drops toward the ground. it’s so quick that you barely notice it, and even if you did, you’d have no idea what it meant.
“you know,” you continue, “my friend ned would totally freak out if he found out that i met you.”
spider-man’s attention immediately snaps back to you. “no he wouldn’t.” the answer comes out so naturally that you turn toward him.
“no, like, for real,” you say with a laugh. “he has this whole thing where he’s trying to figure out your identity.”
spider-man blinks. “he is?”
“yeah.” you shake your head, smiling. “he’s obsessed with you. it’s actually kind of ridiculous.”
spider-man can’t help the small laugh that escapes him. “really?”
“yes. it’s been going on forever.” you shift slightly, getting more comfortable against the rooftop.
“he even made an app.”
spider-man’s head turns toward you. “an app?”
“yeah.”
“yeah.” you grin. “spidey tracker.”
his entire posture changes. “he made spidey tracker?”
there’s so much genuine excitement in his voice that you immediately start laughing. “yes!”
“wait, he actually made that?”
“yes! it took him months to make, by the way.”
spider-man shakes his head, and there’s a smile in his voice when he says, “really?”
“really. he was so proud of it.” something in the way you say it makes his smile fade slightly. his eyes linger on you for a moment before he looks away, his fingers shifting against the concrete beside him.
“he sounds like a good friend.”
you look over at him. “he is.” your smile becomes softer. “they both are.”
he looks at you for a moment longer than he probably should.
“yeah,” he says quietly. “i bet they are.”
you don’t know why, but something about the way he says it makes your chest feel strangely tight. “he’s been obsessed with figuring out who you are forever. mostly because you’ve saved us a bunch of times.”
“me, mj, and ned.” you shrug. “you’ve saved all of us before. more than once, actually. there was this one time you saved me when i was pretty sure i was about to die,” you say with a small laugh, although you can’t remember all the details anymore. “and you’ve saved mj and ned too. that’s why ned is so obsessed with you. he thinks if he can figure out who you are, he can finally thank you face to face.”
“i guess we’re lucky,” you say quietly, smiling as you look toward the city. “you always seem to show up when we need you.”
he looks down for a moment, his fingers shifting against the rooftop. “yeah,” he says quietly. “small world.”
“very small,” you agree, completely unaware of the way his voice has changed.
another silence settles between you. a very comfortable one. for some reason, you become very aware of the fact that spider-man is sitting beside you.
you glance over at him. “uhm… spider-man?”
his head turns toward you immediately.
“yeah?” his voice is softer now, lower. there’s something strangely comforting about it, and you don’t know why. you hesitate, wondering if you’re about to say something you probably shouldn’t to a complete stranger.
“i know this might be weird because we only just met…” you let out a small, nervous laugh. “but i figure you probably know how to keep secrets considering the whole secret identity thing.”
he tilts his head slightly, watching you for a moment before shrugging. “yeah. that’s kind of the job.”
you look down at your hands, picking at the edge of your nail. “so…” you take a breath. “have you ever gotten that feeling where something feels familiar even though you know you’ve never experienced it before?”
he doesn’t answer immediately. you glance over. he’s looking at you. “what kind?”
you shrug slightly. “i don’t know. it’s hard to explain. sometimes i’ll be somewhere, or i’ll hear something, or i’ll see someone, and suddenly i get this feeling like…” you pause, searching for the right words. “like something is missing.”
his chest rises slowly beneath the suit. you continue before you can talk yourself out of it. “sometimes i feel like there’s supposed to be someone in my life.”
he goes quiet beside you, his body suddenly tense, but you don’t notice
“someone i should know.” your voice becomes quieter. “someone i should remember. sometimes i dream about things too,” you continue.
“dreams?” he repeats, tilting his head slightly, the word caught his attention.
“yeah.” you nod. “and when i wake up, i know they’re not really dreams.”
he studies you carefully. “what do you mean?”
you swallow. “they feel like memories.”
you can’t see his expression beneath the mask, but you notice the way his head dips slightly, like he doesn’t know where to look.
“what do you remember?” he asks. his voice is way more quieter now.
you think about it for a moment, trying to collect all the little pieces you’ve been carrying around since you started having these dreams.
“not much,” you admit. “that’s the problem.” you look toward the rooftop. “but i had a dream about this place.”
spider-man follows your gaze toward the rooftop, his head turning slightly as he looks around. “this rooftop?”
“yeah.” you nod, a small smile crossing your face. “there was someone with me.”
spider-man looks toward the skyline, forcing himself to breathe normally. “who?”
you shake your head. “i don’t know.” your voice drops. “i couldn’t see their face.”
his fingers curl slightly against the rooftop. “but you knew them?”
you look at him. “yeah.” you hesitate, trying to put something into words. “i think i did. i don’t know how to explain it. i just knew them. i knew what it felt like to be around them. i knew i trusted them. i think that’s why i came here,” you admit.
“because of the dream?”
you nod. “i thought maybe if i came back here, i’d remember like their face or something. maybe i’d see something and suddenly it’d all come back. but nothing happened.”
you shake your head, suddenly embarrassed by how much you’ve told him. “oh my god, i’m sorry. i probably sound completely insane right now.” you laugh awkwardly, cheeks warming as you look down.
“i’m sitting on a rooftop talking to spider-man about stupid memories that may or may not exist.” you cover your face for a second. “this is probably not how you expected your night to go.”
“no.” he pauses. “but… i’ve had weirder nights.”
you lower your hands, smiling. “really?”
“oh, definitely.”
you study him for a second, watching the way he sits there so casually despite the fact that you just told a complete stranger about the weirdest thing going on in your life. but talking to him doesn’t feel as awkward as it probably should. maybe it’s because you’ve been so caught up in your own head lately that having someone else to talk to feels nice.
“okay, good.” you smile, the embarrassment slowly fading. “because i really don’t want to drive you away.”
spider-man’s smile softens beneath the mask. “you’re not.”
you look at him for a moment, not really sure why the words make you feel a little better. there’s something about his voice that feels strangely familiar. it sounds like peter’s, but you push the thought away before you can get stuck on it again.
“especially since…” you pause, suddenly remembering why you were originally trying to find peter in the first place. “i think i’m already going to drive my upstairs neighbor away.”
spider-man’s head immediately turns toward you. “your upstairs neighbor?”
there’s a little too much interest in his voice, but you don’t notice. you just sigh, pulling your knees closer and resting your chin against them. “yeah. he’s weird.”
“weird how?”
“like… really weird.”
he tilts his head. “that’s not very specific.”
“okay, fine. he lies.”
he goes quiet for half a second. “he lies?”
“like all the time.” you shake your head. “and he’s terrible at it. like, i can literally tell when he’s lying because he starts talking way too much and then somehow makes whatever he’s saying even more suspicious.”
spider-man lets out a breath through his nose, his attention suddenly fixed on the floor. “maybe he’s just nervous.”
you narrow your eyes at him. “why are you defending him?”
“i’m not defending him.” he finally looks back at you, his hands coming up in surrender. “i’m just saying there could be a reason.”
“for being a terrible liar?”
he pauses, then gives a small shrug. “yeah. some people are just… really bad at it.”
you laugh softly. “well, he definitely is. like he’s always disappearing somewhere. he comes home late at night, sometimes when it’s basically morning, and he’s always covered in bruises.” you glance toward spider-man. “and it seems like he keeps hiding from me.”
“bruises?” he asks, his voice a little more curious now.
“yeah.” you nod. “all the time.”
he swallows beneath the mask, trying to think of literally anything that doesn’t sound suspicious. “well, maybe he’s like…” he pauses. “part of a gang or something.”
you turn toward him, completely caught off guard. “a gang?”
“yeah.” he nods a little too quickly. “you know. gangs.”
you stare at him for a second before laughing. “you’re serious?”
“yeah, it’s possible.” he shrugs, trying to make the idea sound a lot more reasonable than it actually is. “i’m just saying.”
“peter looks like the sweetest person ever,” you say, shaking your head. “i’d be surprised if he was in a “gang”.”
“right,” spider-man says quickly. “yeah. definitely. probably not a gang.” he pauses for a second before glancing at you. “so… what do you think about him?”
you look over. “peter?”
“yeah,” spider man says, a little too quickly.
“what do you mean?” you ask, confused by his sudden interest in what you think about peter.
he shrugs, trying to sound casual. “i don’t know… do you like peter?”
“i mean, as a friend,” he adds quickly. “obviously.”
“obviously?”
“yeah. obviously.” he nods, trying way too hard to make the question sound normal. “just wondering.”
you go quiet for a moment, your mind going back to peter before you quickly shake the thought away.
“yeah, i mean…” you start, already about to say more before you stop yourself. “yeah, but he keeps hiding from me, so…” you trail off, your eyes drifting away as you try to figure out what you were even going to say “there’s definitely something going on with him.”
spider-man stares at you, blinking once as if he’s trying to figure out what to say.
“shit.” your eyes widen when you glance toward the skyline and realize just how low the sun has gotten. the sky is starting to turn orange that means you’ve probably been sitting up here longer than you realized. “it’s getting late,” you say, pushing yourself to your feet and brushing the dust from the back of your pants.
spider-man stands a moment later, watching you as you straighten your clothes. you give him a small smile, suddenly feeling a little sad about leaving even though you’ve only known him for an hour or so.
“thank you for the talk, spider-man,” you say, looking up at him. “seriously.”
he gives you a small nod, but before you can turn toward the door, he speaks. “i can… i can take you home.”
you stop and look back at him. “you can?”
he shifts awkwardly, suddenly seeming nervous again. “yeah. i mean, if you want. i can swing you home. it’s probably faster than walking.”
you raise an eyebrow. “like… swing me home?”
he nods.
you glance toward the edge of the rooftop, then immediately look away. just thinking about being that high up makes your stomach twist. “i don’t do well with heights.”
“you’re afraid of heights?”
“very.” you give him a look. “like, extremely.”
he glances toward the edge of the building, then back at you. “you know, considering we’ve been sitting on a rooftop this entire time…”
“i know,” you say, slightly embarrassed. “i’m aware of the irony.”
he lets out a small laugh. “okay, but i promise i won’t drop you.”
you hesitate, looking at him carefully. “you promise?”
“promise.” he raises his hands slightly, like he’s trying to reassure you. “i do this all the time. you’ll be completely safe.”
you glance toward the edge again, then back at him. the idea of swinging through the city with spider-man sounds completely insane, but you trust him enough to consider it.
“okay…” you finally say. “but if you drop me, i’ll kill you myself, spider-man.”
his head immediately perks up. “woah, i wouldn’t want that happening!”
you point a finger at him, narrowing your eyes. “good. then don’t drop me.”
“exactly. see? we already have a plan.” he steps closer to you, you realize just how close he actually is. you can hear the quiet sound of his breathing through the mask, and you have to tilt your head back slightly to look at him. for someone who spends his nights fighting criminals, he seems strangely nervous standing this close to you.
“so…” you look between him and the edge of the rooftop. “what do i do?”
“what do you mean?”
“i’ve never done this before.” you gesture vaguely toward him. “i don’t exactly know how to… spider-man.”
he laughs softly. “okay. fair.” he steps a little closer, carefully reaching for your arms. “here. just put your arms around my neck like this.”
he gently guides your arms around his neck, making sure you’re comfortable before letting go. you immediately realize that this somehow doesn’t feel nearly as scary as you thought it would. before he can explain anything else, instinct takes over and you jump forward, wrapping your legs around his waist. the sudden movement catches him off guard, but he quickly adjusts, quickly placing his hands against your back to steady you.
“okay,” he says, sounding amused. “there you go. just hold on.”
you tighten your arms around his neck, suddenly very aware of how close you are to him. “are you sure you won’t drop me?”
“i promise.” there’s something about the way he says it that makes you believe him. his voice is calm now, completely different from the nervous way he was talking a few seconds ago, that makes your grip loosen just a little.
“okay,” you whisper. you barely have time to take a breath before he steps toward the edge.
your eyes immediately widen. “wait, spider-man, maybe we should—”
he jumps.
your stomach drops as the rooftop disappears beneath you, and you instinctively tighten your arms around his neck, burying your face against his shoulder as the wind rushes past you.
“OH MY GOD!”
a laugh slips out of spider-man, and before you can even process it, he’s laughing harder.
“i thought you said you trusted me!”
“i do!” you yell, holding onto him even tighter. “i just didn’t know you meant we were going to fucking jump!”
“that’s kind of the whole swinging thing.” you can hear the smile in his voice, and even with the fear currently taking over your body, you can’t help laughing too.
you try your hardest not to look down at the ground or anywhere else as spider-man swings you through the city, your arms still wrapped tightly around his neck. every time he shoots another web and launches the two of you toward the next building, your stomach flips, and you instinctively hold onto him a little tighter. you keep telling yourself that he knows what he’s doing, that he does this every night, that he literally promised he wouldn’t drop you, but that doesn’t stop your heart from racing.
eventually, though, you start to relax.
you slowly loosen your grip on him, your arms no longer wrapped so tightly around his shoulders. without thinking, you rest your head against the side of his neck, your cheek pressed against the warm fabric of his suit. you close your eyes, waiting for the fear to return, but it never does. for the first time since he pulled you off the ground, you feel completely safe.
his warmth is comforting. too comforting. you don’t know why, but the second you settle against him, something inside you shifts. you’ve been here before.
you stay where you are, listening to the sound of his breathing as he swings between the buildings, and suddenly the feeling from your dreams comes rushing back. you swallow, your fingers tightening slightly around the back of his neck. you can’t see the way his expression changes beneath his mask when he feels you relax against him.
until suddenly, your stomach drops again.
“wait.”
he immediately looks down at you, his grip tightening slightly around you as he swings. “what?”
you open your eyes, looking around for half a second before immediately squeezing them shut again. “i feel like i’m slipping.”
you tighten your arms around his neck, your legs instinctively squeezing around his waist even though he’s holding you securely.
“you’re not,” he says immediately, almost laughing because he knows exactly how secure you are. “i’ve got you.”
“are you sure?”
“yeah.”
“because i feel like i’m slipping.”
“you’re not slipping.” his voice is calm, almost reassuringly matter of fact. “i promise.”
you take a shaky breath, trying to convince yourself to believe him. “okay.”
“you’re okay.”
you nod against his shoulder, but you still don’t loosen your grip. “you’re really sure?”
“yes.” he laughs softly. “i promise you, if you were slipping, you’d know.”
“that is not comforting.”
“okay, bad choice of words.” despite yourself, you laugh, your face still pressed against his neck.
“just hold on to me,” he says, his voice becoming softer as he swings them toward the next building. “you don’t have to worry. i’ve got you.”
something about those words makes you go still.
“i’ve got you.”
you don’t know why, but they feel familiar. not just familiar in the way his voice does.
the wind is rushing past you, your arms are wrapped tightly around his neck, and your face is buried against his shoulder because you’re too scared to look down. you can feel yourself being pulled through the air, your stomach dropping every time he’s holding you swings from one building to another.
“i’ve got you.”
your eyes slowly open. you’re still in spider-man’s arms, still high above the city, still holding onto him so tightly that your fingers ache.
“you okay?” he asks, noticing how suddenly quiet you’ve become.
you swallow and nod, resting your head against his neck again. “yeah. i’m okay.”
he looks down at you again. “you sure?”
you nod again, forcing a small smile. “yeah.”
he doesn’t seem completely convinced, but he doesn’t push you either. instead, he adjusts his grip around you and swings toward the next building, keeping you tucked safely against him.
“just keep holding on.”
it wasn’t long before spider-man dropped you off at your apartment. luckily, you had left your window open, which made it easy enough for him to get you back inside without having to explain why a masked superhero was suddenly standing outside your building. you turn around after climbing through the window and look at him standing there awkwardly on the fire escape.
“you can come in, you know.”
he pauses. “are you sure?”
“yeah.” you step aside, giving him enough room to climb through the window. “unless you’re planning on just standing outside my apartment all night.”
“no, no. i can come in.” he quickly slips through the window, landing quietly on the floor before straightening himself. for some reason, seeing spider-man standing in the middle of your apartment feels much stranger than seeing him swinging between buildings.
he looks around your apartment, his head moving slowly as he takes everything in. his eyes linger on the little things scattered around the room, the pictures of you, mj and ned sitting on your shelves, the books stacked beside your couch, the random things you’ve collected over the years. there’s something almost nostalgic about the way he looks at everything.
“thank you, spider-man,” you say, your voice softer now that the two of you are standing in the quiet of your apartment. you pause for a second, suddenly feeling a little awkward yourself as you look at him. “you know, for bringing me home.”
he looks back at you, he doesn’t say anything. his eyes move over your face before dropping briefly to the floor. “yeah,” he finally says, giving a small nod. “of course. i mean, it’s not really a big deal.”
“still. you didn’t have to,” you say, your voice quieter this time.
there’s a long silence between you, neither of you really knowing what to say next. there’s something about him that feels strangely familiar, though you can’t put your finger on what it is. you’ve felt it before. it’s the same feeling you get around peter, like there’s something about him you’re supposed to remember, and now, standing in your apartment with spider man, you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve felt it with him too.
“well,” you say eventually, glancing around your apartment before looking back at him, “i guess this is where i say goodnight.”
spider-man nods, but he doesn’t move toward the window. neither do you. the silence stretches a little longer, you start wondering if maybe you’re making things awkward when suddenly he speaks. “y/n, i…” he stops himself.
you hum softly in response, tilting your head as you wait for him to finish. “what?”
he looks at you for a moment, almost like there are a hundred things he wants to say and he’s trying to figure out which one he’s actually allowed to.
“never mind.” he turns toward the window and takes a few steps, but before he can reach it, you reach out and gently grab his arm.
“wait.”
he stops immediately and looks down at your hand.
you almost let go, suddenly aware of how strange this probably is, but instead you look back up at him. “you can always come by here if you want,” you say, and you don’t really know why you’re saying it. maybe it’s because he brought you home. maybe it’s because you liked talking to him more than you expected.
“ned sometimes visits,” you continue, giving him a small smile. “and i think you would love him.”
he looks down at your hand still resting against his arm, he doesn’t say anything. something about the way he goes quiet makes you wonder if you’ve said something wrong.
then he slowly looks back at you. “yeah…” he says quietly, a small smile hidden somewhere beneath his mask. “maybe i will.”
you smile, finally letting go of his arm. “you should.”
another silence settles between you, but this one feels different. neither of you seems in a hurry to break it. you find yourself looking up at his mask, wondering what he actually looks like underneath it, wondering what kind of person is standing in your apartment right now. spider-man eventually glances toward the window.
“i should probably let you get some sleep,” he says, shifting slightly.
you smile. “probably.”
he nods, but doesn’t move right away.
“thank you again,” you say. “for tonight.”
“yeah.” his voice softens. “of course.” he finally turns toward the window, placing one hand against the frame. “goodnight, y/n.”
you give him a small wave “goodnight, spider-man.”
he gives you a small wave back before climbing through the window and stepping onto the fire escape. you watch as he shoots a web toward the building across from yours, his body quickly disappearing.
you stay by the window for another few seconds, watching the spot where he disappeared before finally closing it. you turn around, letting out a tired breath as you run a hand through your hair.
tonight was weird.
really weird.
you let out a quiet breath as you glance around your apartment. the room feels different now that he’s gone. you head toward your bedroom, still thinking about the conversation, replaying certain parts of it in your head. you make it halfway down the hallway before a thought catches you.
spider-man knew your name. you slow down, trying to remember when you actually told him. and then you remember something else.
he knew where you lived.
you never gave him your address. you never told him which building was yours, and you certainly never pointed out your apartment before he offered to take you home. you had simply climbed through the window, and somehow he had known exactly where to bring you.
you stand there for a moment, trying to piece it together.
spider-man knew your name.
he knew where you lived.
how the fuck does he know that?
‹𝟑.ᐟ
you spent all night you trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for why spider-man knew your name and where you lived, but nothing really makes sense. maybe he saw your name somewhere. maybe he’d been in your building before. maybe being spider man just means knowing things about people that you probably shouldn’t be able to know, although that doesn’t exactly explain how he knew your apartment.
or maybe he’s stalking you.
you immediately shake the thought away. he’s spider-man. why would he be stalking you of all people?
still, you can’t stop thinking about it.
and it doesn’t help that your mind keeps going back to peter. maybe it’s because, the more you think about your conversation with spider-man, the more you realize how much he reminded you of him.
you try to push the thought away.
there’s no way. maybe spider-man and peter are friends? you almost laugh at the idea.
actually, maybe that would explain some things. peter keeps coming back with bruises, he disappears all the time, and lately he’s been acting even stranger than usual. maybe he’s somehow involved with spider-man. maybe he’s like his sidekick or something.
okay, no. that’s stupid.
you’d spent half the night watching videos of spider-man, trying to figure out who he was and how he knew so much about you. every video showed the same thing. spider-man fighting alone.
still, you couldn’t let it go.
so you texted ned.
you asked if he’d found anything new about spider man’s identity, hoping maybe he’d found something that could explain how spider-man seemed to know you.
instead, ned sent you two names and a picture of them. you stared at the screen for a second before rolling your eyes.
yeah. definitely not.
you sigh, barely having time to put your phone down before a loud thump comes from upstairs.
peter. you stare at the ceiling for a second. he just got home. this early in the morning. again.
you know peter’s usual routine by now. you can usually tell when he’s home without even thinking about it, but last night had been different. there hadn’t been any footsteps above you. no loud thumps. nothing being dropped or dragged across the floor.
last night…
you didn’t hear anything. not once. your eyebrows pull together as you keep staring at the ceiling. was he not home last night? because if he was, you definitely would’ve heard him.
you spent hours going back and forth between peter and spider-man, trying to piece together things that probably had nothing to do with each other. every time you thought you had an explanation, another detail made you question it.
you glance toward the clock before remembering what day it is.
laundry day. you look down at the pile of clothes you’ve been ignoring and decide you might as well get it over with. you grab your laundry basket, toss in whatever clothes you can find, and head out of your apartment.
when you reach the elevator, you press the button and wait a few minutes before the doors finally open.
peter is already standing inside. he looks at you, then lets out a quiet, shaky breath.
bingo.
you step inside, standing beside him as you press the button for the lobby. the doors close, silence filled the elevator.
you glance at him, unable to hide the grin spreading across your face. “hello, peter.”
he shoves his hands into his pockets, looking anywhere but at you.
“going somewhere?” you ask, trying to sound casual despite the fact that you’re already mentally preparing a list of questions.
“yeah,” he says, glancing down at his feet. “just have some stuff to do.”
“right.” you nod before pausing. “what did you do last night? it seemed like you were gone all night.”
peter looks at you so quickly that you almost laugh.
“i mean, if you don’t mind me asking.” you shrug, trying to make it sound like you aren’t obviously fishing for information.
“nothing. i was…” he hesitates. “i was home all day.”
no, he wasn’t. you literally followed him yesterday. you watched him disappear in the middle of an alley, and now he’s standing here telling you he never left.
he’s definitely hiding something.
peter shifts beside you, suddenly looking even more uncomfortable. his thumb keeps tapping against the elevator button, pressing it again even though you’re already on your way down.
“do you know spider-man?” you ask. the question slips out before you can stop yourself. you turn your attention back toward the elevator doors, pretending to be interested in anything other than his reaction.
but you catch it from the corner of your eye.
peter’s head snaps toward you. his eyes flick toward you before he quickly looks back at the elevator doors. for a second, he just stares at them. “i… who?”
you blink, turning your head toward him. “spider-man.”
“yeah, i know who spider-man is.”
“i know.” you shift the laundry basket against your hip, watching him carefully. “i’m asking if you know him personally.”
peter lets out a quiet breath through his nose and looks down at the floor. “no.”
“you sure?”
“yeah.”
the answer comes a little too quickly, and you narrow your eyes at him. “you answered that really fast.”
“because i don’t know him.” he finally looks at you, his expression almost defensive. “why would i know spider-man?”
“i don’t know. that’s why i’m asking.”
he looks away again, his fingers fidgeting inside the pockets of his jacket. “well, i don’t.”
you study him for a moment, trying to decide whether you believe him. there’s something about the way he’s acting that feels off, but you can’t tell if it’s because he’s actually hiding something or if you’re just letting everything that happened with spider-man make you suspicious of everyone around you. then again, you were already suspicious of peter, so maybe you had a reason to be.
“have you ever met him?”
peter’s shoulders tense slightly at the question, and this time you definitely notice. “no.”
“never?”
“never.”
you stare at him for another second before looking toward the elevator doors. “seen him up close?”
“everyone’s seen spider man.”
you turn back toward him. “peter.”
he sighs, dragging a hand over his face. “what?”
“you know what i mean. have you ever actually talked to him?”
he hesitates. “no,” he finally says.
you keep your eyes on him, trying to figure out what exactly he’s so uncomfortable about. it isn’t like you’re asking him anything crazy. spider-man is practically the only thing anyone talks about lately, and yet peter looks like you’ve just asked him to hand over some huge secret.
“okay,” you say, letting the word stretch out slightly.
peter glances at you. “okay?”
“yeah.” you turn back toward the elevator doors, deciding not to push him anymore. at least not right now.
the elevator continues its slow descent, leaving you both standing in an awkward silence. you can feel him looking at you every now and then, but whenever you turn your head, he’s suddenly staring at the numbers above the doors.
there’s something definitely going on with him.
the elevator finally dings, and the doors slide open. peter steps out almost immediately, his pace a little quicker than it needs to be.
you follow after him, adjusting the laundry basket in your arms as you watch him walk ahead. “peter!”
he stops almost immediately, turning around to look at you. for a second, he looks like he’s bracing himself for another question, his expression still a little guarded from the conversation you just had.
instead, you smile. “did you like the cookies at least?”
the tension in his face eases, and a small smile pulls at his mouth. “yeah, i did.”
“good.” you adjust the laundry basket in your arms. “i could make you more sometime if you want.”
his expression softens “yeah,” he says, a little quieter. “i’d love that.” he gives you another small smile before turning around and continuing toward the lobby.
peter definitely knows about spiderman and you’re going to figure out why spider-man knows you.
‹𝟑.ᐟ
“you’re gonna forget who i am.” his hands cup your face, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears running down your cheeks.
“what are you talking about?” you ask, your voice shaking.
“it’s okay. i’m gonna come and find you. i’ll explain everything. i’ll make you remember me. it’ll be like none of this ever happened.”
you shake your head, tears spilling faster as you try to hold onto him. “but i don’t want that. i can’t… you know i don’t want that.”
“i know.” his voice cracks slightly. he leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. “i’m sorry, y/n. i’m so sorry.”
his hands stay against your cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the tears as if he can somehow make this hurt less.
“it’s going to be okay,” he whispers. “i’ll find you, okay?”
you look up at him through your tears. “you promise?”
“i promise.”
you reach up, placing your hand over his as you try to keep him there for just a little longer. “okay…” you whisper, your voice barely holding together. “because if you don’t, i’ll come find you myself. you know i will. i’ll find you, i swear i will.”
your voice breaks, and a sob escapes before you can stop it. “please don’t do this.”
he looks at you, his expression softening. his thumb brushes beneath your eye.
“i’m sorry.”
you shake your head, gripping onto him tighter.
“i love you, peter.”
you shoot upright in bed
your chest heaves as you gasp for air, your heart pounding against your ribs. you just sit there, staring into the darkness, still shaken by whatever you just dreamed about.
you had dreamed about him again.
you wipe at your cheek, only then realizing you’re crying. you look down at your fingers, almost confused by the tears. why are you crying?
then his name comes back to you.
peter. your stomach twists.
“i love you peter.” you say it quietly, testing how it sounds out loud.
you’ve been thinking about peter all night. you talked to him earlier. you questioned him about spider-man. you’ve been trying to figure out what he’s been hiding since the day you met him.
so maybe that’s why. maybe your brain just took everything you’ve been thinking about and shoved it into another one of your weird dreams. that makes sense. it should make sense. but there’s something about the way you said his name that bothers you. it didn’t feel like you were guessing. you knew it. you knew his name before you even woke up.
you wipe beneath your eyes again, taking a slow breath as you stare at the ceiling. “why peter?”
you don’t have an answer.
and the worst part is, somewhere deep down, you think you already know why.
you slip out of bed and slide your slippers on, still trying to process what just happened. your heart is finally starting to slow down. there’s a reason you said peter’s name in that dream. you know there is. maybe you’re finally getting close to whatever he’s been hiding from you all this time, and maybe the dreams have something to do with it. you don’t know how yet, but you’re going to find out.
you grab your phone from the nightstand and check the time.
2:00 a.m.
you stare at the screen for a second, wondering if you’ve completely lost your mind. you’re really about to go upstairs and confront peter in the middle of the night.
what are you even supposed to say?
hey, peter. you were in my dream, and i told you i loved you. wanna explain that?
you let out a quiet breath at the thought.
yeah. no.
maybe you could ask him about spider-man instead. except that sounds just as insane when you actually think about it. hey, peter, do you happen to know why a superhero who definitely doesn’t know me somehow knew my name and where i live?
you shake your head, slipping out of your apartment before you can talk yourself out of it.
the hallway is completely quiet as you walk toward the elevator. you press the button and wait, your fingers nervously picking at the edge of your nail while you try to figure out what you’re actually going to say once you see him.
you could ask him why he lied about being home last night. you could ask him why he got so weird when you mentioned spider-man. or you could just tell him about the dream and see what happens.
none of those options sound particularly normal.
the elevator finally arrives, and you step inside, pressing the button for his floor. as the doors close, you lean back against the wall and stare at the numbers above you, your stomach twisting the closer you get.
you’re not even sure what you’re expecting to find.
you just know that something is wrong.
when the elevator reaches his floor, the doors open and you step out into the quiet hallway. you walk toward peter’s apartment, slowing down when you get close enough to see his door.
you stop. the door is slightly open. you stare at it for a second, confused.
peter is usually careful about stuff like that. at least, you assume he is. especially after the way he acted the last time you tried looking inside his apartment.
you take another step closer and look through the small opening.
“peter?”
nothing.
you wait for a few seconds, listening for any movement from inside. maybe he’s asleep. maybe he left in a hurry. maybe he just forgot to close the door properly.
you knock lightly against it. “peter?” still nothing.
you suddenly feel nervous. what if something actually happened to him?
you immediately tell yourself you’re being dramatic, but the thought doesn’t go away. you stand there for another moment, debating whether you should just leave and come back in the morning.
but then you think about everything that’s happened lately.
the bruises. the lies. the way he disappeared. the way spider-man somehow knew your name. and now his apartment door is sitting open at two in the morning.
“okay,” you mumble, mostly to yourself. “i’m just checking.” you push the door open a little farther.
the apartment is dark and quiet, and you hesitate before stepping inside. the place is bigger than you expected, but it’s also messier than you imagined. there are clothes thrown over the back of a chair, books and papers scattered across the table, and random things left around like he never really has time to put anything away.
you slowly move farther inside, keeping your voice low.
“peter?” still nothing.
this is a bad idea. you know it is. but if peter is actually hurt somewhere in here, you’d rather find out than stand outside wondering if you should’ve done something.
you look around peter’s apartment, trying to see if he’s somewhere nearby, but there’s no sign of him. his place is bigger than yours, which honestly feels a little unfair. you walk farther inside, taking in the open space around you as you try to figure out where he could be.
your eyes eventually land on his desk.
there are papers scattered all over it, some folded over, others covered in handwriting and little sketches. his computer sits in the middle of everything, the screen completely dark.
you step closer, curiosity getting the better of you as you look over the mess. most of it doesn’t make much sense. there are random notes, numbers, diagrams, and things you can’t really make out from where you’re standing.
you reach toward one of the papers, picking it up to get a better look.
then you stop. your name is written across the top. you stare at it. “what the fuck…” you look back down at the paper, your eyes scanning over it again to make sure you’re actually seeing what you think you are.
your name. on peter’s desk. in his apartment. you grab the paper from the desk. it’s folded neatly in half, you hesitate. you know you shouldn’t read it.
it’s clearly something personal, something peter never meant for you to find. but your name is written across the front, and after everything that’s happened, there’s no way you’re just going to put it back.
you slowly unfold it. your eyes move across the first few lines.
hi. this is probably going to sound insane.
you don’t remember me.
i know you don’t. and i’m sorry. i know that’s probably the first thing you’re going to want an explanation for, so i’m going to try to explain everything.
we used to know each other. really know each other. you were my best friend, and then you became so much more than that.
and before you ask, no, this isn’t some weird joke. i wish it was.
something happened. something i couldn’t stop on my own, and the only way to fix it was to make everyone forget who i was.
you included.
i’m sorry.
i know that probably doesn’t make any sense. honestly, it barely makes sense to me either.
but i’m peter parker.
and i’m spider-man.
and i know you’ll believe me because you’ve always been really good at knowing when i’m lying. actually, that’s one of the things i miss most about you.
i wish i could tell you everything right now. i wish i could just walk up to you and explain everything and somehow make you remember me, but i don’t know if that’s fair to you.
so for now, i’m going to let you live your life.
you told me once that if i didn’t come find you and tell you everything, you’d find me yourself.
so if i don’t come find you, you better find me.
i mean it.
and if you don’t remember me when you see me, that’s okay. i don’t know if any of this will bring anything back. maybe it won’t.
but i had to try.
because the truth is…
i love you.
i don’t expect you to remember that.
i just hope that somewhere underneath everything you’ve forgotten, there’s still a part of you that remembers me.
and if there is, i hope it brings you back to me.
you stare at the last line for a long moment, barely breathing as the words sit there in front of you.
i love you.
your fingers tighten around the paper, and before you can stop them, tears begin slipping down your cheeks. one lands against the page, blurring the ink underneath it.
spider-man. he’s spider-man.
that’s why he knew your name. that’s why he knew where you lived. that’s why something about him felt so familiar.
it was peter.
you knew he was hiding something. you knew it. all this time, he had been right upstairs. you try to take a breath, but it catches in your throat.
you can’t breathe.
then you hear something behind you. you turn toward the window. a figure climbs inside, pulling himself through the open window with practiced ease before landing on the floor.
spider-man.
he straightens, already reaching up toward his mask.
then he sees you. he freezes. his hands stop. for a few seconds, neither of you says anything.
you just stare at him. your eyes burn as more tears slip down your face, and you watch the way his body goes completely still beneath the suit. even without seeing his face, you know exactly what he’s thinking.
he knows. you found out.
your voice comes out quieter than you expect. “take your mask off, peter.”
he doesn’t move.
“take it off.”
slowly, his hands move to the sides of the mask. he pulls it over his head. peter looks back at you. his hair is a mess, his face is still covered in bruises. but it’s his eyes that get you.
they’re already glassy.
you wipe at your cheeks, angry that you’re still crying in front of him. “why didn’t you tell me?”
peter’s lips part, but nothing comes out.
he takes a small step toward you. you immediately step back. the paper slips from your fingers and lands on the desk besides you.
“i—”
“four years, peter.”
he goes quiet, staring at you as the words seem to sink in.
“four years.” you shake your head, staring at him. the person standing in front of you is the same person you’ve been dreaming about all these years.
“i thought i was going crazy,” you say, your voice shaking as you wipe at your cheeks. “i’ve been having these dreams about someone for four years, peter. four years. i couldn’t see his face, i couldn’t remember who he was, but every time i woke up, i felt like i was missing someone.”
you look at him, your eyes moving over his face. “and i knew you were hiding something.”
peter’s expression shifts, his eyes dropping for a moment.
“i knew it. i kept trying to figure out what it was, and every time i got close, you’d change the subject or disappear or give me some horrible excuse.” you let out a shaky breath, glancing down at the letter still sitting on his desk.
“then i meet spider-man, and somehow he knows my name. he knows where i live. his voice sounds like you, and i kept thinking there was something weird about it.” you look back at him. “and then i tell you about the dreams. i literally tell you that i’m dreaming about someone i can’t remember, and you still don’t say anything.”
“i wanted to,” peter says quietly.
“i know.” you shake your head, wiping beneath your eyes again. “that’s why i’m not angry at you. well…” you pause, letting out a shaky breath. “okay. i’m a little angry.”
but even then, you know peter had a reason. you don’t remember everything yet. you don’t remember everything the two of you went through. but somewhere deep down, the part of you that once knew him still understands him. maybe that’s why you can’t bring yourself to stay angry with him for long.
“but i know you had a reason.” you stare at him for a moment. “i just don’t understand why you couldn’t tell me.”
peter takes a slow breath, looking down at the floor before finally meeting your eyes. “because you were happy.”
“after everything happened, i tried to find you,” he continues. “i wanted to tell you everything. i really did. but then i saw you with mj and ned, and you were happy. you were laughing, you were living your life, and…” he swallows. “i couldn’t do it.”
his voice gets quieter. “i’d already lost so much. and i was so close to losing you once. i couldn’t risk doing it again.”
“peter, you know that’s not your choice to make.”
he looks down. “i know.”
“i’m sorry,” he says. “i really am. i tried to stay away. i tried to just… live my life without you.” he lets out a shaky breath, his eyes beginning to fill again. “but i couldn’t.” his voice breaks on the last word.
you don’t think about it anymore. you just step closer until you’re standing right in front of him.
peter looks at you, his eyes red and glassy, almost like he’s still trying to convince himself you’re actually standing there. you lift your hand to his face, gently brushing your thumb beneath his eye. he leans into your touch without even thinking about it.
“it’s okay, peter.” you lean forward and press a soft kiss to the bridge of his nose. his eyes close for a second.
“i promised i’d find you myself, didn’t i?”
he lets out a small, broken laugh, and despite everything, you can’t help but laugh with him.
you rest your forehead against his, your hand moving to the back of his neck as you gently run your fingers through his hair. peter’s arms slowly wrap around you, pulling you closer like he’s still afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.
you close your eyes. for the first time, the person from your dreams isn’t some blurry figure you can never quite reach. he’s standing right in front of you, and you can finally see him.
you let out a shaky breath, your fingers still resting against his cheek. “i still don’t remember everything,” you admit quietly. “i don’t remember how we met. i don’t remember our first date or our first kiss or… any of that.”
peter’s eyes drop for a moment, and you can see the hurt cross his face before he tries to hide it. you don’t want him to think that means none of it matters to you.
“but i remember enough to know that i loved you.”
his eyes immediately meet yours.
you swallow, trying to explain something you don’t even completely understand yourself.
“the dreams…” you start, your voice softer. “they didn’t really tell me much. they were always just pieces. i’d remember a conversation, or being next to you, or hearing your voice, but everything else was always… gone.” you shake your head slightly.
“and i couldn’t understand why. i couldn’t understand why i kept dreaming about someone i couldn’t even remember.”
peter watches you quietly, his eyes never leaving yours.
“i don’t know if i’ll remember everything,” you admit. “maybe i will. maybe i won’t.” you pause, your thumb brushing gently across his cheek. “but i want you to tell me.”
peter blinks, his eyes staying on yours as he tries to process what you just said. “what?”
“everything.”
his expression softens, but there’s still something almost disbelieving in his eyes. “you really want to know?”
“i want to know how we met. i want to know what we were like. i want to know all the stupid things i probably forgot.” a small smile pulls at your lips through the tears. “i want to know what our first date was like. what you said when you asked me out. everything you remember.”
peter lets out a shaky breath, almost like he’s trying not to cry. “that’s a lot.”
“then you’ll have to talk a lot.”
a quiet laugh escapes him, and you can see the tension in his shoulders finally start to loosen.
“okay,” he whispers. “i can do that.” his arms tighten around you, pulling you a little closer.
“you’re not alone anymore, peter.”
his eyes meet yours, and there’s something so vulnerable in them that your chest aches. you reach up and gently touch his cheek again. peter closes his eyes for a second, leaning into your hand. when he opens them again.
“i missed you,” he whispers.
“i know.” you swallow, your fingers still resting against his cheek.
“no,” he says, shaking his head slightly. “i really missed you.”
you don’t know what to say to that. because you missed him too. maybe you never understood what that feeling was, but it had always been there. for four years, the feeling that someone was missing from your life. you never knew who it was.
now you do.
it was him.
peter looks down at you, his eyes moving across your face as if he still can’t believe you’re standing in front of him. you reach up and wipe away the tear that slips down his cheek.
“i’m here now,” you whisper. “and i’m not going anywhere.”
his lips part slightly, but he doesn’t say anything.
you lean forward and kiss him. peter doesn’t move. he just stands there, almost frozen. then his hand slowly comes up to your face, his fingers resting against your cheek as he kisses you back.
all those dreams you’ve spent years dismissing as weird or stupid don’t feel stupid anymore.
they were real.
the feelings were real. the person you could never remember was real. after spending all this time trying to figure out what peter was hiding, you actually found the answer. you can’t help but think that maybe all your snooping wasn’t such a terrible idea after all. because if you hadn’t gone upstairs, if you hadn’t walked into his apartment and found that letter…
you might still be wondering who you were dreaming about.
previous | stark!reader masterlist
summary: peter comes back into your life, desperate to remind you of what you used to have with him. you're equally as desperate to remember, but what happens when your past doesn't match your present? or in which peter returns to you. you're still unsure if you should welcome him or not, but he's already made his choice. you just have to make yours.
pairing: peter parker x reader, gn reader, stark! reader
content: reader is implied to have depression, reader is still a little mean, hurt, ANGST, yearning, SLOWBURN, far from home and no way home spoilers, no spoilers for bnd, no use of y/n, mx. is used, ANGST, brief throwing up mention, tony death mention, pepper + morgan feature, still not super proofread
word count: 9.6k words
a/n: PART TWO TO ABOUT YOU IS HERE!!! i hope you guys enjoy!! your sweet comments really inspired me to continue this fic, i was originally planning on it being a one shot! and thanks for 200 followers!! love yall :D
It’s been a few weeks since Spider-Man- since Peter - returned to you. You think you’ve felt every emotion humanly possible at this point. Happiness, grief, anger. Every feeling is only amplified by the years you didn’t even know were lost.
“What does it feel like?” Peter quietly asks you one day as you wait for the subway with him.
You stuff your hands into your hoodie pockets with a shrug, eyes focused on the skyline in front of you.
“I don’t know,” you answer him honestly. “It’s just…a lot to take in.”
Peter’s gaze falls at that, his head dropping.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and you sense the guilt in his voice.
“It’s okay,” you tell him, only half sure of yourself. You hoped he couldn’t tell.
You knew you had something with Peter. You knew that he knew that you knew. But he didn’t push for anything, didn’t expect anything out of you. Despite the night you’d spent crying in his arms, he still kept a respectable distance from you on the subway. The rare times he came to your apartment seeking your aid as Spider-Man, he wouldn’t overstay his welcome, quickly leaving with a murmured “thank you” as soon as you’d finished patching him up. And yet. You saw the way he looked at you. Those big, brown orbs staring at you like you’d hung the moon for him, like you were someone special. The same way he’d stared at you when you first met him on the subway platform.
Once when you were patching him up, you’d nearly stitched his skin in the wrong area because of his gaze.
“Sorry,” you mumble. “I think I get nervous when you stare at me like that.”
“‘S’okay,” Peter reassures you with a gentle smile, but you see the sag in his shoulders. He averts his eyes for the rest of your treatment for him and promptly swings out your window after.
A part of you is glad he cuts all his visits short. Another isn’t.
You were almost worried you felt too much for Peter. Feelings too big for your scattered memory with no origin to attach them to. Sometimes, at night, you’d press your palm against your fluttering heart, willing it to stop. It wouldn’t. It would only whisper one thing to you.
Peter.
It only got worse when you were with him. You felt like you were going to burst open every second you spent near him. Four long years of yearning for someone you didn’t even know you were yearning for can do that to you.
You and Peter try to figure out what you do and don’t remember about him, writing on the back of napkins with half-dead pens in the back of the shawarma restaurant. As it turns out, you remembered quite a lot. Just not him. You remembered Spider-Man, though only as your father’s ally and your occasional patient.
“Nothing about me?” Peter asks you as he underlines “Spider-Man” in fading black ink.
You shake your head, trying your best to dig into the crevices of your mind.
“Nope. Spider-Man was more like a…business partner to me, I think.”
Peter just nods his head at that, pursing his lips and rapidly tapping his pen on the table.
“But you left your window open for me. You waited.”
You remain silent for a moment. You didn’t have a rebuttal for that.
“I did.”
Peter just chuckles softly, like there was a joke you weren’t getting, as he annotates “business partner?” onto the napkin.
Somehow, you even remembered May. Though not in the way Peter thought you would.
“She was Happy’s girlfriend,” you bluntly respond through a bite of food as Peter shows you a photo of May proudly posing with other volunteers at F.E.A.S.T on his phone.
Peter can only gawk at you for a moment before he says anything back.
“She was my aunt,” he clarifies, and the hoarseness of his voice tells you all you need to know.
You chew on your bottom lip, looking for the right words to say.
“I understand how you feel,” is what you settle on, an image of Tony flashing through your mind.
Peter offers you a tight-lipped smile back.
“I know you do,” he affirms you with glassy eyes.
You realize he’s giving you that look again. Your heart whispers.
Peter.
After Tony’s passing, you felt like your whole world was turning upside down. You had tried to stay with your mom and new sister upstate for a little while. You hoped living in the place Tony had wanted you to return to would ease the pain burning through your soul. It didn’t. You thought a fresh start with Morgan would cheer you up. Instead, the young girl hid from you, whispering to Pepper and asking who you were.
“They’re your sibling, Morgan,” Pepper would tell her.
“Then where were they before?” Morgan would innocently ask back. “Why weren’t they here when Daddy was here?”
Those words stung like needles, another reminder of your lost time. You’d run to your room to hide, to scream into your pillow again, but it didn’t work like it used to. Not when your room was a perfect replica of your old one. A reminder of a life you couldn’t have back, no matter how much you wanted it. A picture of you at your kindergarten graduation with Tony giving you bunny ears sat on your nightstand. You flipped it over so you couldn’t see it anymore.
The worst of it, though, was when you argued with Pepper. It became a constant. You didn’t mean to, you didn’t want to, but every time you spoke to her it seemed your anger and sorrow and regret all leaked out at once. You’d said shit you didn’t mean, said shit that deep down, you did.
“You know, you’re turning into a real asshole,” Happy remarked to you as he sat on the porch with you one lazy summer day. “Just like your old man.”
You only shot him a glare, and Happy gave you a knowing look. You were just proving his point.
After a month of staying at the Eco-Compound, you decided to move back to the city. Even with everything you did, Pepper saw you off with tears in her eyes as Happy pulled out of the driveway. You knew you didn’t deserve it.
Happy dropped you off at your city apartment, and you expected reprieve from the arduous existence you had upstate. What you found was worse. A candle-lit memorial to Iron Man, to Tony, lay out in front of your apartment. Pictures of you and Tony together from magazines and paparazzi from all ages and times were displayed carefully like a shrine.
The Future, was written in red marker on a photo of a child you happily posing with Tony, matching Iron Man gauntlets on both your hands.
Your stomach churned, and you resisted the urge to trample the whole display. You ran into your apartment building without even saying goodbye to Happy, impatiently smashing the buttons in the elevator. When you arrived at your apartment, you sprinted to the bathroom and hurled in the toilet.
You lay helplessly in your bed that night, messily sprawled out on your tear-stained sheets. Eventually, the window in the main room of your apartment sounded as someone pried it open. You didn’t even have to look to see who it was.
“Hey,” Peter softly called to you in the doorway of your bedroom, donning the Iron-Spider armor. “Happy told me you were back in town.”
You didn’t answer, instead curling your body further into itself. You heard the clink of metal against your hardwood floor as Peter carefully approached you, sitting on the edge of your bed. Wordlessly, he reached for you, brushing his fingers along the contour of your cheek. You finally allowed yourself to look at him as he did, bloodshot eyes meeting his.
“Can’t sleep?” Peter questioned you hushedly.
You nodded.
“Wanna go for a swing?”
You nodded again.
That’s how you ended up with your arms tightly looped around Peter’s neck as he swung the two of you through New York, the night breeze against your face making you shiver. You opened your bleary eyes when Peter landed, blinking them back into focus. Looking around your surroundings, you saw the el train rumbling below and the city lights in the distance. You turned your head again and were met by the sight of an Iron Mural painted on the brick building next to the roof you were on. You almost wanted to laugh. Almost.
“This is what you took me to see?” you scoffed to Peter with crossed arms. Your throat was still dry from your crying.
“I come here to think,” Peter explained, sitting down on the edge of the roof. He patted the spot next to him, a silent invitation. You stubbornly ignored it.
“About Tony?” you asked quietly, sentimentalism betraying the cynicism you were trying to portray.
“About everything,” Peter answered you a little too harshly. He quickly apologized once he saw your concerned expression. “Sorry. I just-”
“-miss him?” you finished for him, kicking a pebble on the ground. “Yeah. Me too.”
After a beat of silence, you finally gave in and sat next to Peter. His pinky brushed against yours. You let it. And for a moment, you allowed yourself to be taken in by the sounds of the city. Of car alarms, of streetlamps buzzing, of distant shouts. Of Peter breathing softly next to you. The cacophonous symphony of your home.
“People want me to be the next Iron Man,” Peter broke the silence next to you, and you could tell his words had been hanging heavy on his mind. You remembered the way your father would speak of Peter. Highly, despite his complaints and claims of him hitting on you, which you always denied. You’d seen the news, too. You thought that the public was so credulous to any new idea. One look at a new hero in metal armor and they assume they’re the new Iron Man.
“Yeah, well, people want me to be the next Tony Stark,” you grumbled bitterly in response, the memory of the grim memorial in front of your building making you feel sick again. The feeling was quickly dampened by the feeling of Peter’s hand on top of yours.
“That makes two of us,” Peter decided, and you could only stare back at him, his brown eyes drowning you in affection and understanding.
If twin flames truly existed, you knew Peter was yours. Your complement, your perfect pair, the two of you forming a matching set, hearts bound together. Still, you found yourself diverging from him. Two crossing lines becoming parallel. Where he sought ambition and legacy, you searched for solace.
“What if…I don’t want to be like my dad?” you managed to croak out as Peter squeezed your hand with his.
“Why wouldn’t you be?” Peter questioned with restrained disbelief. “Your dad was amazing. And you’re just like him, you’re smart, you’re pretty-”
He quickly slapped a hand over his mouth. You snort at his slip-up.
“I’m pretty?” You leaned towards him with a teasing lilt.
Peter swallowed, and you saw his Adam’s apple bob, and nodded.
“Yeah, super.”
You felt your lips curl up, and it was only then that you realized you’d nearly forgotten what it was like to smile. Just for a moment, your grief melted away as you stole a precious moment with Peter. No more superheroes, no more paparazzi, no more memorials. Just you and him, holding hands on a rooftop in Queens, hearts bonded in an endless dance. You thought you’d remember it forever. You didn’t.
Despite yourself, you find yourself only getting more and more curious about your past with Peter as the weeks go by. You wanted to know why he put up with your jerkish attitude, why your heart involuntarily skipped around him, why he looked at you like that. You wanted to know everything. But you were too scared to ask. Scared that if you did, it would only reveal more missing parts of yourself, parts of a life that you’d never know again. Or even worse, you’d remember something you should have left forgotten.
Besides your lurking curiosity, you had gotten to know Peter better. He brought you to his apartment and showed you all the tech he’d been using as Spider-Man, from 3-D printers to advanced computers. Unfortunately, you were a Stark and had seen advanced technology most couldn’t even dream of.
(“This is small potato stuff,” you’d said without thinking. “What did you just say?” Peter asked you back, but you had already moved on in the conversation.)
You knew what days of the week he did his laundry, his bodega order. Sometimes you’d even have it ready for him when he came by your place. You knew the acne scars on his face, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled or laughed at something stupid you said. Unfortunately, or fortunately, you even knew what his abs looked like. You had let Peter use your shower after a patrol. As you waited for him on your bean bag, he’d come out of the bathroom, steam following him, and with only a towel hanging low on his hips.
“Your clothes didn’t fit me,” he’d said bashfully as he held the flimsy towel up with a muscular arm.
You could only gape at him for a minute, eyes roving over his chest and his abs, which you thought looked like a pack of those Hawaiian rolls Pepper liked to use when she barbecued. You always knew that Spider-Man was this…fit. You just didn’t expect the bulk-up that happened in the past few years. Once you discerned you were staring at Peter like a piece of eye candy (maybe you were no better than your father), you quickly stood up and dashed to your room before he could see how flustered you were getting.
Okay, so maybe you knew too much about him. But you couldn’t help yourself. Even without your forgotten memories with him, Peter was still the first friend you’d had in a while. You felt an unexplainable sense of comfort around him, all your walls crumbling down the moment you saw him walking towards you with a smile. Your occasional hangouts turned weekly, with him over at your apartment or you at his. You both use thinly veiled excuses to see each other, to steal another second of the other’s time.
“Needed help with my new suit design,” Peter had told you one time.
“Carry my groceries upstairs, I don’t wanna do it,” you’d said another.
Today, Peter’s explanation was that he needed to borrow your soldering iron for his new gadgets. Or something. You can’t recall what exactly it was. It didn’t matter. You ended up at his apartment nonetheless.
You’re mindlessly staring at one of Peter’s web-shooters as he works at his desk, turning it over in your hand and studying its design.
“Impressive design,” you compliment him honestly from your lounging position on his couch.
Peter glances at you over his shoulder.
“Thanks. But don’t mess with it too much- that one’s a prototype.”
“Right,” you pretend to listen as you slip the device onto your wrist. You can’t help yourself. Technology of this level would always be too tempting for you. You were a Stark, after all.
The web-shooter molds itself perfectly to your wrist, the metal contouring itself to a snug fit. With a grin, you flex your hand, studying the device in amazement. You close one eye and aim the shooter at Peter, snickering to yourself as you move your fingers into the gesture you’d seen him do before as Spider-Man.
Thwip!
You’ve webbed the back of his chair. Peter turns his head, unfazed.
“Knew you were gonna do that,” he clicks his tongue. “Can you let go now?”
You roll your eyes but relent, tugging your wrist back. The web doesn’t cut off, and it drags Peter away from his desk. You try tugging again. It’s the same result.
Peter turns back again, ready to lecture you on how to use his web-shooters.
“Look, you just have to tug your wrist back-”
“I am doing that, genius!” you stubbornly argue back.
“Well, clearly, not the right way,” he makes a flicking motion with his hand. “Like this.”
You grumble, feeling your temper bubble.
“Like this?” You mock Peter’s tone, dramatically throwing your entire arm back. Big mistake. The force is enough to send Peter flying back in his chair and crash into you on the couch. You squeeze your eyes shut at the impact. When you open them, you’re met by Peter, bent over you and gripping the back of the couch to stabilize himself. You feel your heart speed up and your face warm. It’s only worsened when you notice the veins bulging out of his forearms.
“Knew you were gonna do that too,” he huffs over you, and he’s so close you can feel his breath fan over you.
Never breaking his gaze from yours, Peter grabs your wrist, strong fingers slowly taking the web-shooter off. The action makes you shiver. He lingers for a moment too long above you before he shifts himself away.
You aren’t able to move for a moment, your whole body still in shock from whatever that was as your mind screams at you to snap out of it.
When you finally find it in yourself to sit up, you can tell Peter’s trying not to look at you. His face is full of a nostalgia and desire for something you weren’t privy to. He’s running his fingers over the prototype web-shooter like it’s the most interesting thing in the world, like he didn’t design it himself.
You just watch him for a moment, the air so still and static it made your chest feel fuzzy. You trace his face with your eyes, and you find yourself wondering why you can’t remember him, when he looked at you so tenderly, when he knew you so deeply.
“What were we, Peter?”
The question falls from your lips before you can stop yourself.
Peter finally faces you, a weak smile on his face that betrays the ache you know he’s hiding.
“I knew you were going to ask eventually,” he murmurs, placing the web-shooter to the side. “Just needed to know when you were ready.”
“You know, you’ve been saying that a lot lately,” you say, and the words come out just a bit too bitter. “That you know things about me, when I barely know anything about you. About us. It’s not fair, Peter.”
You spit with a rotten truth Peter knew he couldn’t deny. He rests his elbows on his knees, hands clasped, eyeing you hesitantly.
“Are you really ready to know?”
You nod slowly.
“I am. I think,” you reply with half-confidence.
“You think,” Peter repeats, and you nod again. He licks his lips. You can tell he’s still holding back.
“We were something,” you answer for him when he won’t. “Something special.”
Peter can only chuckle dryly at that.
“We were."
The sincerity in his confirmation makes your chest hurt.
“I want to know more, Peter,” you urge him, braving the gap between you two and scooting just a little closer. “I want to know more about us. About me.”
You wanted to fill the gap in your mind, find something to link your flurrying emotions to. And Peter had the answers.
“You…” Peter starts slowly, so hushed that you can barely hear it. “...were the most special, important person that I ever met. You still are. You know, ever since your dad introduced us, it was like- like something just clicked. And I just knew. I knew it was going to be you. You did, too.”
You listen to his devotional confession, heartbeat pounding in your ears.
“Your dad, though,” Peter chuckles, recalling a memory you no longer shared. “He hated us being together. Told me I was crossing a professional line by having his kid as my crush. I remember one time he grounded you for getting caught by the press with me. You still snuck out and came to me, though. Always did.”
That stirs something in your memory. You remember Tony setting you up on countless dates- even one with Harley- but they all failed. Then you remember. You were trying to make them fail. Like you were waiting for someone else. Someone special. Someone like Peter.
“Did we make it work?” you whisper, and you can feel the water pooling in your eyes.
Peter reluctantly shakes his head. You’re unable to stop the sharp, horrified gasp you let out.
“It wasn’t Tony’s fault,” he reassures you before your mind can run away on its own. “It was mine. And I have spent every day since then, trying to make it up to you.”
You hold your head in your hands, desperately trying to make sense of what Peter was telling you.
“So you made it up to me by erasing everyone’s memory of you,” you mutter coldly. “Including mine.”
“No, this was…different,” Peter explains, and you see the way his posture drops in shame. “I was too focused on myself. I got so caught up in being Spider-Man, in being a hero, that I forgot what was right in front of me. I forgot about the people who cared about me.”
He sniffs, wiping a stray tear from his cheek with the palm of his hand.
“I’m still working on it,” he confesses rawly, baring all his flaws for you. “Letting others in again, not being alone. It’s hard, but…when I saw you on that subway platform, I remembered how much you cared for me. How full you made my life. And that’s when I realized, I couldn’t let myself live without you.”
Peter peeks over at you through the corner of his eye, trying to gauge your reaction. You didn’t know what kind of expression you were making, but based on the long sigh he lets out, you know it isn’t good.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, wiping another tear away. “I know it’s a lot.”
You didn’t know how to feel. Confusion, joy, resentment? Peter’s declaration plunges you in a wave that only made you want to swim deeper, to discover more, even as your lungs filled and you gasped for air. You wanted to know who you used to be, how a person like Peter could devote himself to someone like you. You wanted a taste of the softness you used to have that Peter craved so much. You wanted to feel less like a ghost.
“Peter,” you call him with renewed determination, pulling his hand away from his face with yours. “I want to know more.”
Peter blinks at you in disbelief before you see the ease return to his face.
“Okay,” he breathes, a half-smile cracking onto his lips.
“I’ll tell you all you want,” he promises. “I’ll tell you everything.”
You feel the wave wash over you again. You feel the way it laps at your neck, head barely above water. But you let yourself become submerged. You wanted to know everything, even if you drowned.
The aftermath of Peter’s European summer school trip was a disaster. He’d almost blown up his class’s school bus, he gave Mr. Stark’s glasses to Quentin Beck, and worst of all, his identity had been revealed. And now, he was currently sitting in a Department of Damage Control interrogation room. At the time, he didn’t know the worst was yet to come.
Peter’s foot bounced restlessly as he mentally prepared himself for the questions he was about to be asked, about Mysterio, about Spider-Man, about E.D.I.T.H. He watched helplessly as May and MJ and Ned got pushed along by some DODC agents, yelling at him to not say anything without a lawyer.
Peter hung his head and thought about how he had messed up. How he’d just put everyone’s lives, everyone’s futures in danger. Then, through the thick glass of the interrogation room, he heard something familiar. Muffled, but familiar. He would know that voice anywhere. It was you.
“...Mx. Stark, please-”
“Let me talk to him. Or are you forgetting the history that my family has with Damage Control?”
Your confident voice reached Peter’s ears as he saw you approach the glass room he was trapped in. Your outfit was polished, posture perfect, your whole demeanor oozing power and dominance as you took control of the room like a true Stark.
“Five minutes is all you got,” Agent Cleary told you as agents unlocked the door separating you from Peter.
“Ten,” you countered, not even bothering to look back at him as you walked inside the interrogation room.
Peter could hardly believe his eyes as you entered. He almost thought you might’ve been another one of Beck’s illusions, though he knew it was impossible. He said your name aloud, reverently, as you sat across from him. He was about to add on that he missed you, that he thought about you during the whole Europe trip, but you spoke first.
“Peter,” you said, an unusual air of stoicism in your voice. “I’m going to get you out of this.”
Peter couldn’t help but let out a relieved smile at that. Of course you’d help him; you always would, no matter the situation.
“I’m getting you a lawyer,” you continued, folding your hands together. “I’m going to have Stark Industries investigate separately from Damage Control.”
Peter opened his mouth to thank you, but you raised a shushing finger.
“I’m not done,” you warned, and Peter finally sensed that something was wrong. “I’m going back upstate once this is all over.”
Peter furrowed his brow. Upstate? You hated being upstate. You always complained that the Eco-Compound was too quiet and too boring for your taste. That you preferred to stay in the city with him.
“W–why?” Peter questioned, trying to conceal his confusion.
You sighed and chewed on your lip, as if you didn’t want to say what came next.
“Peter,” you stated his name again. “I care for you. I really do. You’re so, so important to me, but…”
Peter watched with bated breath as you trailed off and stared off into space.
“But?”
Your eyes found him again, but the anguish he saw within them was something he didn’t recognize.
“You misused my father’s technology and nearly got half of Europe destroyed. You nearly got yourself killed,” you articulated slowly, as if you still didn’t believe the words yourself. “He trusted you with it, and you abused it. Why?”
The waver in your timbre made Peter’s stomach drop. He’d upset you.
“I…” Peter started, searching for any explanation. “I wanted to be like Tony. Like Iron Man. I wanted to be someone people could rely on, and I know I screwed up, and I know you’re mad at me, and I’m sorry.”
You firmly shook your head at that, lips pressed as you tried to hold back a choked sob.
“That’s not enough, Peter,” you insisted desperately. “What you did- it’s sending ripples through the world. I- I mean, you got May, and Happy, and MJ, and Ned in trouble with the DODC? All because you thought those stupid glasses would help you be like Tony?”
“I thought they would make me strong,” Peter quietly confessed, staring down at his lap.
“You thought they would make you different,” you corrected him.
“Don’t you want to be like your dad?” Peter contested with a bite and without thinking.
The glare you gave him in response was enough to shut him up.
“Don’t,” you warned scornfully. Peter heard you curse to yourself as you kept fighting off your crying eyes. “Don’t start with that.”
You rubbed a hand over your face, exhaling slowly until you felt yourself calm down enough to shakily speak.
“You’re already strong, Peter. Not because you’re Iron Man, not because you have superpowers. Because you’re you,” you whispered to Peter. “Why do you think I care so much, why do you think I do all of this for you?”
“I’m sorry,” Peter repeated to you, staring down at his lap, but he knew he wasn’t getting through.
The sound of Cleary knocking against the glass walls of the room drew both of your attentions away. “Two minutes,” he mouthed.
Without a word, you stood from your seat and pushed the chair in. Peter watched powerlessly as you did.
“W-wait,” he called for you when it seemed like you were for sure leaving him. “They said we have two more minutes.”
You gave Peter one last look, and he saw your pained expression as you placed your hand on the door handle.
“I know.”
Then you were gone.
Peter has been recounting precious moment after precious moment to you. You’d requested it, after all. He tells you about the time he snuck you into his high school because you’d demanded it, the time he had to rescue you from a frat party at Tony’s request. Sweet snippets in time that you wished you still held dear. And yet, every story of your supposed past left you unsatisfied, even more lost than before. It seems that you were becoming insatiable, searching for answers about yourself, about you and Peter, in every sentence he told you.
You knew that you cared for him so fiercely that whatever spell Dr. Strange cast on you nearly became null, but the why was still missing. It felt like an endless pit that you were desperate to fill. No matter how many lost moments in time Peter divulged to you, the pit just swallowed them up and became deeper, until you were staring into darkness again. You could pretend to enjoy Peter’s accounts of your forgotten memories all you wanted, but they only left you feeling hollow.
You do a good job of hiding your agony for a while, still smiling and keeping a chipper attitude whenever you see Peter. But as soon as he leaves, as soon as you’re alone, you feel the pitch black of your mind grow. You thought learning of your past would make everything better. But somehow, you feel emptier. Every recollection of your forgotten past serves as another reminder that you were half a person, had been half a person since you were snapped back to life. You see the way Peter’s eyes light up when he tells you yet another tale of your lives together, excitement and wistfulness filling his whole being. You feared he was remembering someone who didn’t exist anymore.
Some nights, you’d stare into the pit of your memory. It would stare right back, growing deeper and darker with every second you spent looking into it. You think it might just swallow you whole.
Currently, you sat with Peter in his apartment, waiting for his laundry to finish washing. The washer let out mechanical bumps and whirs, quietly rumbling as you lazily lay on the couch with Peter, your legs propped up on his lap. Somehow, you had gotten used to the casual intimacy the two of you shared. He’d fix the tags at the back of your shirts when they flipped up; you’d trace the line of his spine when you checked him for injuries. It’s a quiet, unspoken language between you and Peter, a rhythm only the two of you know. You wondered if this is how things used to be, how you used to be, all gentle touches and warm gestures.
You knew you weren’t like that anymore. You knew you’d grown harsh edges, an icy glare, and venomous words at the ready in case you needed them. Like a scared animal afraid of becoming prey, you protected yourself any way you could. And despite it all, Peter chose to stay with you. You still don’t understand why, not when he knew the old you.
“What’re you thinking about?” Peter calls to you, arm casually hanging over the back of the couch.
You pause picking at your nails to glance over at him and shrug,
“I don’t know,” you respond, and he breathes a smile.
“Liar.”
There’s a teasing lilt to his tone as he pokes your forehead.
“A good liar,” you try to rebut, and Peter’s smile only widens.
“What’re you thinking about?” he asks again.
The washer continues to softly work, clothes covered in bubbles spinning with a hum.
It seemed there was no hiding from Peter. He knew all your secrets, some you probably didn’t even know now, reading you like you were his favorite book.
“I’m…worried,” you murmur, eyes still focused on your nails.
You feel Peter’s weight shift on the couch as he leans closer to you.
“Worried about what?” he continues to pry, and you feel his fingers ghost over the nape of your neck.
“That I’m not the same person you remember me as,” you finally find the guts to admit. “That you’re eventually going to be disappointed by who I really am.”
Peter’s playful expression drops at that, concernment replacing it.
“Hey, hey,” Peter reaches out to push your hands down, to bring your focus to him. “What made you think that?”
You don’t meet his concerned eyes, lips pressed to a thin line.
“Was it me?”
Peter feels a familiar dread fill his stomach when you remain quiet. He whispers your name like a prayer as his knuckle brushes against your cheek, willing you to look at him. You do, and are met by that fond stare that made you hesitate, that made your heart whisper.
“I’m not spending all this time with you because I think you’re someone else,” Peter tries to explain to you. “You’re who you’ve always been. You’re smart, you’re pretty…”
Something in you finally cracks. The wave finally drowns you. You can’t even hear the rest of what you have to say, the sound of the washer rattling in your ears as your eyes go wide, shell-shocked.
“Peter,” you stammer, numb to Peter’s reasoning. “I- I don’t know where you’re getting this from. I’m not like that. Maybe I was, but not anymore. I changed.”
Peter tries to reach for you again. You pull your legs back from his lap, hugging them to your chest with a fierce shake of your head, a wordless refusal.
“I’m just the lazy child of a dead billionaire. I- I live in an apartment that my father paid for, and I treat it like shit. I just live off of whatever money my mom sends me every month because she knows I’m too miserable to take care of myself. I- I don’t have any friends. I just sit by myself all day, alone. And you’re saying I’m not different from how I used to be?” you choke. Your voice is guttural and strained as you speak.
Taking in a trembling breath, you press your fingers against the curve of your brow, hoping to self-soothe. Even with Peter’s attempts at comfort and your heart aching, you somehow find it within yourself to stand.
“I need to go, Peter.”
As soon as you step away from the couch, Peter is right there behind you, stopping you from leaving with a grab of your wrist.
“Don’t go. Not again,” he says lowly, and you see the look of deja vu in his eyes, which could only mean one thing. You’d left him before. “Please.”
You almost think he’s going to get on his knees and beg you to stay, as if he wasn’t already doing that.
“Peter,” you breathe his name, and you feel his grip on your wrist loosen. “I don’t remember what happened between us. I don’t.”
His gaze falls, sullen and scared. After a reluctant beat, you skim your free hand along his jaw, and he raises his head back to you.
“I just need some time to think. About this,” you gesture between the two of you. “It’s just so much. You make me feel so many different things, Peter.”
Good things, you almost add on, but you restrain yourself.
“And it’s not anything you did, okay? I guess…I still have some things I need to work on, too.”
When you echo his words from before, Peter drops your wrist.
“Okay,” he surrenders to you, but his hesitation is clear. “But promise me, you’ll come back. I don’t care what you end up deciding, just come back, please.”
You nod your head in agreement. The fear and pining and desperation on his face were enough to make you do so.
“I will,” you promise.
Slowly, he turns his head in your hand, pressing a featherlight kiss to your palm.
“Don’t forget,” he murmurs so tenderly against your skin that you quiver.
“I won’t.” you promise again, and Peter lets you go.
You gather your things slower than you should, and Peter watches you silently; the only sound filling the room is the hum of the washer. You spare him one last glance as you close his apartment door behind you, his brown eyes giving you that look again. It’s not until you shut the door behind you that you finally understand it.
It’s a look of love. A look of love for you.
You were still the first person Peter looked for as soon as the charges against him were dropped. As it turns out, the lawyer you’d hired for everyone was a really good lawyer (thanks, Matt!). He’d practiced an apology to you, in his head, in the mirror, and all the way to your apartment. He took the subway there, hoodie pulled over his brown curls. No point in risking getting spotted after everything.
After a long ride and a few near misses, he arrived at your apartment. He tried knocking on your door a few times before he realized. You already left. He scrambled for his phone in his pocket, hoping to text or call, anything to get you back, but a notification with your name on it caught his eye first. You’d left him a voicemail.
Peter took a deep breath, cautiously unlocking his phone and pressing play on the message. The sound of your voice crackled to life.
“Hi, Peter. I hope Matt got everything sorted with you. And I’m sorry about today. I think we need some time apart. I’m just- overwhelmed, I guess,” the static recording of your voice said. “I’m going to be upstate for a few weeks to help Mom sort everything out with the company- but I’ll be back, alright? We can talk when I come back. It’ll only be a few weeks tops, promise. I miss you already. Let me know how everything else goes, and remember that I’m going to be with you no matter what.”
The voicemail went quiet for a moment, and Peter nearly thought it was over before you spoke again.
“...I’m just going to say it. I love you, Peter. I’m sorry if I don’t show it well. And I love you because you’re Peter Parker, not anyone else,” Another pause. “Oh, god. I don’t know why I said all of this shit over voicemail. Um, we can also talk about this when I get back. But don’t forget, Peter. I love you because you’re you.”
The voicemail beeped, signaling it was over. Peter stood in front of your apartment door, taking your pre-recorded declaration in.
You loved him. Of course, a part of him already knew that, even if you never said it out loud. But hearing you actually say it- that made it real.
Peter went home in a trance, replaying your message over and over in his mind until he fell asleep. He dreamt of you that night. Of telling you that he loved you back, of fixing all of his mistakes. Of having you forgive him and give him that wide, toothy grin he’d come to adore. When he woke the next day, with helicopters swarming his apartment and news reporters banging on his door, he decided. He was going to make it up to you, any way he could. He was going to fix his mistakes.
But Peter didn’t know that his attempts at fixing his mistakes only made everything worse. He didn’t know that you leaving him in the interrogation room was the last he’d see of you for a while. He didn’t know that it’d take years until he got another chance to tell you he loved you back.
For some reason, you felt drawn to go back upstate. You knew being out of the bustle of the city would help you clear your mind, but you suspected something you’d forgotten was drawing you there too. Pepper was, of course, overjoyed. So was Morgan. When you called Pepper to tell her the news, she declared she’d get your room cleaned up and finally take out the good wine to share with you. Sweet, little Morgan also demanded wine, but Pepper had a heavy lecture for her instead.
You don’t have Happy drive you up to the Eco-Compound. You didn’t do that, not anymore. Instead, you opted to take a Greyhound, as most people did. You wanted to be like most people. As you stare out the bus window, you can’t help but think about Peter and the predicament you were in. You still couldn’t understand how he chose to stay with you. It perplexed you to no end.
You try to look in the pit of your memory again, wondering if you could find answers there. But this time, it’s not empty. You see something at the very bottom, flickering dimly like a baby bird flapping its wings.
You choose to ignore it, still too scared to give it a name.
Pepper and Morgan are already waiting for you at the Greyhound station as soon as you arrive. You’ve barely stepped off the bus before Morgan sprints over to you, wildly waving her arms and yelling your name. You grin and outstretch your arms for her to jump into, which she does happily.
“How’re you doing, Mo?” you ask Morgan as you lift her up and ruffle her hair.
“Missed you,” she replies, sticking her tongue out at you. “Mom says you need to come home more.”
You just laugh and shake your head at that, smoothing Morgan’s dark locks back into place.
“Yeah, well Mom says a lot of things, doesn’t she?”
“And Mom hears a lot of things too,” Pepper quips back as she approaches you and Morgan.
“Hi, Mom,” you greet her as she pulls you into a quick hug and kisses your forehead.
“It’s good to see you, hon,” Pepper sighs, lips curling into a smile. You can tell she’s scanning your face for any sign of dark circles or fatigue or anything that might indicate that something’s wrong. Once she’s confirmed that you seem okay for now, she nods to Morgan in your arms. “Morgan, wanna tell them what happened?”
Your sister brightens up at that. Grabbing her upper lip with her little fingers, she reveals the missing gap between her incisors.
“I lost another tooth!” she declares proudly. “The tooth fairy is going to bring me more money!”
You let out an intrigued hum as you set Morgan back down, and she immediately grabs your hand.
“What are you going to buy with your tooth fairy money?” you muse as you two follow behind Pepper to the car.
Morgan taps her chin, and you can see the gears in her brain turning. She eagerly tugs on your hoodie sleeve once she’s figured out an answer.
“Something that you like!” she excitedly declares, eyes lighting up like stars.
You furrow your brow at that.
“That’s nice, Mo, but you should pick something for yourself,” you correct her gently.
Morgan stubbornly shakes her head.
“Mom says you’re sad all the time. I’m going to buy something you like so you’ll be happy again.”
You feel yourself twitch at that. Kids just say the darndest things, don’t they? Your sister has always been a good listener. Maybe a bit too good, as it seemed she was now listening in on Pepper’s concerned phone calls to you.
“I’m just going to say I like what you like so you’ll get something for yourself,” you tease with a squeeze to Morgan’s hand.
She shakes her head again, this time with a pout.
“Mom, you have to tell her to pick out something for herself,” you tell Pepper as she unlocks the car.
“Mooom!” Morgan whines, now trying to tug free from your hand. “They’re being mean again!”
“Mom, seriously-”
“Mom! Can they go back-”
Pepper ignores both of you, wordlessly sliding into the driver’s seat.
It’s enough to silence you for now. You help buckle Morgan into her car seat, and she sticks her tongue out at you again with a kiddish “bleh!” You stick yours back out in response. Pepper tells the two of you to behave. You manage to do so for the drive up to the Eco-Compound, watching the trees fly in bright greens.
You help Pepper prepare dinner that night and reluctantly teach Morgan how to cut up vegetables when she isn’t looking. You quickly get busted, though, as Morgan starts crying about how cutting onions hurts her eyes as soon as her kiddie knife splits the bulb in half. Kiddie knife privileges get revoked for the night.
Dinner goes over without a hitch. Though one seat is left empty at the dining table, and you know who it should belong to. Pepper sets the table for Tony anyway. After dinner, an hour of helping Morgan beat the last boss fight in Super Mario Bros, and another hour of trying to convince Morgan to go to bed, it’s just you and Pepper, sipping wine by the fire. She’d saved your favorite for you. You watch with intent as the flames dance, spinning in brilliant reds and yellows.
Pepper calls your name, just loud enough over the crackle of the fireplace. You swing your head to look at her.
“What’s on your mind?” Pepper softly asks you.
“Nothing, Mom,” you lie.
Pepper hums in thought, her intuitive blue eyes ever knowing.
“You have that same look on your face that your father would always get when he didn't want to tell me something,” she muses, swirling the wine in her glass with a light chuckle. “The exact same.”
Of course your own mother could catch your bluff. You think the years she spent with your father helped, too. Deciding to be brave, you choose to lament some of your thoughts to her for once.
“Mom,” you whisper. “Why is it so scary when somebody cares about you?”
Pepper takes another sip of her wine.
“This about that new friend you were telling me about?”
You can’t resist the urge to roll your eyes as your face heats.
“Mom.”
“Just asking!” Pepper chuckles, raising her glass at you before returning to sincerity. “Did your dad ever tell you about the first time we danced together?”
You shake your head.
Pepper shakes her head with a smile, and you see the old memories resurfacing within her.
“It was so long ago. I was still his assistant back then, you know. We were at this gala, and he asked me to dance. And I was just terrified.”
You blinked at that.
“Weren’t you and Daddy madly in love?” you wonder aloud.
Pepper laughs again.
“That’s the Tony version of the story,” she sighs, taking another sip of wine. “Our relationship was much, much more complicated than that. You know, there were so many times I told him I didn’t think I could do it, or that we would work out. But your dad proved me wrong every time.”
Her reminiscing brings up old memories of your own. Ones with Peter. But not of your forgotten ones. Of your new ones. Your thoughts trickle back to Morgan’s comment from the morning.
Mom says you’re sad all the time.
Were you really that sad? You knew you certainly were before Peter came back to you. But now you had something to look forward to. Peter carrying your groceries for you, Peter making you laugh at his dumb jokes, Peter looking at you so sweetly. Peter coming back to you, no matter what.
Peter, Peter, Peter.
You think that maybe you weren’t so sad after all. Or maybe it was more complicated than that. Just like your parents.
Pepper watches as you stew in deep thought.
“You sure this isn’t about your new friend?”
You almost roll your eyes again.
“Mom,” you groan.
Pepper gives you a playful shrug.
“Just curious.”
The sound of the fireplace fills the space between you.
“Fine,” you admit after a brief pause. “It is.”
Pepper’s smile widens at that.
“I’m glad you found someone, honey,” she praises, clinking her glass against yours.
You look down bashfully, Peter flooding your mind again. Your mom was right. You’d found him, and he’d found you. Again, and again, and again, hearts bonded once more in that endless dance.
You return to the city a week later, Pepper kissing your face a dozen times and Morgan sobbing into your sleeve as you pulled up to the Greyhound station. When you arrive at your apartment building, you see the flash of red and blue that soars across the sky, just quick enough that you barely catch it. You don’t have to ask who it is.
When you open the door to your apartment, the first thing you do is crack your window open and sit on your bean bag. Waiting. Peter crawls in not even a minute later.
“Hi,” he hesitantly greets you with an awkward wave.
“Hi,” you greet him back with a curt nod.
Peter cautiously moves around you and the bean bag, opting to sit on the floor across from you instead. His curls shake loose as he rips his mask off.
“I brought you these,” he says, taking out a pack of Oreos from behind his back.
You take them and place them aside for now.
“How long were you waiting outside my apartment?” you ask him curiously.
Peter chews his lip, as if he knew his answer would displease you.
“A while.”
“Really?” you continue to prod, the faintest hint of amusement in your tone.
“Fine,” he concedes, throwing his arms up. “Every day, since you left.”
He looks away for a second, and you can see the hidden anxiety written on his face.
“I was scared you weren’t going to come back.”
His vulnerability makes your body ache with a pang.
“But I did, Peter,” you reassure him, and you’re tempted to move closer to him. “I came back.”
“You did.”
Another hesitation, this time from both of you, neither of you wanting to break the comfortable serenity of the air.
“I-”
“Look-”
You both interrupt each other; you both find yourselves laughing at the absurdity of it.
“You first,” you offer Peter with a wave of your hand.
Peter screws his eyes shut and takes in a deep breath, mentally preparing himself to tell you everything that’s been fluttering in his chest.
“You were right,” is what he starts with. You feel your breath hitch before he continues.
“You have changed. But that doesn’t mean that the old version of yourself isn’t still in you. You don’t see yourself the way I do- I wish you did. You’re so caring and funny and beautiful that it hurts. And- and I know that I’m a lot, that I bring a lot to the table and your life, but somehow you put up with me.”
He’s confessing to you so deeply that you think your heart might leap out of your body and into his strong arms. You think he just might make you cry again and again.
“I don’t care that you’ve changed, or that you think you’re not as good as before. I don’t care. I love every version of you, and I love you now. I’m sorry that I wasn’t clear enough sooner.”
It takes a minute of processing his words until you realize Peter’s moved closer to you, from the floor to between your legs on the bean bag, eyes so pleading and honest.
Instinctually, as if your body knew, as if your soul knew, you reach down to cup his face in your hands. Peter allows himself to lean into your touch this time.
“Peter,” you say his name quietly for the sake of saying it, curling it around your tongue as it grounds you. “I made my decision.”
“Yeah?” he whispers back, slowly pressing his forehead against yours. You let him. And then you say it.
“I-” you blink the forming tears away from your eyes with a trembling, excited breath. “I want to try again, Peter.”
Peter lets out a relieved laugh at your answer, placing his hands on top of yours.
“I want to keep putting up with you, Peter,” you find yourself smiling despite yourself, “I know that I loved you once. I want to try again.”
Peter looks like he’s going to explode from happiness, your admission making his cheeks glow. He can’t seem to stop grinning as he speaks.
“Well, that’s good, ‘cause-” he outstretches his arm away from you, thwipping a web through your window. When he pulls it back, there’s a bouquet made of your favorite flowers on the end. “-otherwise these would’ve gone to waste.”
You gasp his name in disbelief as he hands you the bouquet. You caress it delicately in your arms as you smell the blooms.
“What would you have done if I said no?” you pry with a tease as Peter rubs soothing circles into your thighs.
He shrugs.
“Go home and cry,” is his response. “Think about how I lost the best thing in my life, again.”
You hum at that and reach for the nape of his neck, pulling him closer.
“Well, I’m here now,” you whisper, and you can feel his warm breath tickling your lips. Peter stares down at them, then back to your eyes, then back down to your lips.
“Can I kiss you?” Peter blurts suddenly.
You answer by pressing your lips to his. The kiss is soft and slow and long overdue, full of years of longing that have finally, finally ended between your mouths. Peter curls his fingers into your hair, like he’s afraid of you disappearing, afraid of you becoming lost to him again.
You kiss him for as long as you can before you have to pull back and gasp for air, forehead still touching his.
“Did we ever do that before?” You can’t help but ask through a pant.
“No,” Peter chuckles sheepishly. “Never. First time.”
“Can we do it again?” you ask again, and Peter obliges, capturing your lips with his once again.
“Knew it was going to be you,” he whispers against you in between kisses. “It had to be you.”
With his mouth against yours, hands in your hair, flowers between your bodies, you finally believe Peter. You believed in his devotion to you, his love. You believed in everything. The feeling of his warm body against yours made you feel like you could rule the world.
Your kissing pauses when the sound of police sirens fires off somewhere outside your window. Peter reluctantly draws himself away, cursing about “fuckin’ New York” under his breath. He runs a frustrated hand through his curls, and you poke his cheek with your finger.
“Go,” you nod towards the window, towards the city that needed him as much as you did. “Spider-Man’s needed right now.”
With an unwilling grumble, Peter stands and pulls his mask back on. You follow him to the window, watch as he climbs onto your fire escape.
“I’ll come back to you,” he swears to you, lingering just a little longer than he should.
“I know you will,” you reply, and you meant it. You touch the base of his mask with your fingers, peeling it just enough over his mouth so you can give him one last, sweet kiss.
Peter can only stare at you for a moment, eyes full of affection as they’d always been, hidden behind his white lenses.
“I love you,” he declares firmly, resolute in his words. “Don’t forget.”
You smile at that as you pull his mask back down.
“I won’t.”
At your stated vow, Peter swings away, glancing over his shoulder one last time as he does. You watched him go, a new resolve in your heart.
You didn’t need your old memories to feel like you could fix yourself. What you had now, who you were now, was precious, forged out of every hardship and experience you’ve had, whether you still remembered or not.
You were ready. Ready to not be alone, to love Peter again. You know that no matter how hard you are on yourself or how hard it got, he would be there to remind you that he loves you, and you refused to forget this time.
He was yours, and you were his, hearts dancing together in an endless waltz, Peter’s words were memorized in the forefront of your mind. You swore that not even Dr. Strange could tear the two of you apart again. Even if he did, Peter would show you his true feelings. In a bag of Oreos, in sitting still while you stitched him up, in the way he chose you over and over, all of them screaming one thing.
I love you.
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summary: peter keeps returning to the last place he saw mj, but she's not there anymore.
pairing: peter parker x reader, (past) peter x mj
rating: T, angst, cuts/bruises, silent pining, his smile is life ruining (when you're trying to stay professional), blunt/standoffish!reader, fluff, peter is bad at flirting -- and at hiding his powers, references to bnd but nothing detailed, open-ending
wc: 1.2k
note: the sad wet puppy photo of bnd!peter has consumed me.
---
He stops by every morning, ordering a coffee with extra sugar and one donut -- whatever flavor you recommend for the day.
His eyes always drift to the back of the shop, searching the empty area before he pays, a small thanks murmured when you hand him the receipt.
You know who he's looking for. She used to work at the shop before she went off to college. Michelle. You were her replacement. An employee who doesn't have much of a future away from this neighborhood.
He has only asked you about her once. Your first day on the job, he walked in, hopeful eyes lowering with disappointment when he saw you behind the counter. He ordered a black coffee, hot. Just as he was moving to leave, he finally asked.
"Is MJ here?"
"MJ?"
"Oh, um, Michelle." He corrects himself, "She used to work here."
"Sorry. I'm the only one."
Every day since then, you've watched his hopeful expression fade. You don't know why he continues to come to the donut shop. The coffee is stale and the donuts are overpriced. And she's not coming back. It's always just you waiting for him in a ridiculous green uniform, asking him what he'd like when you already know the answer.
---
He tells you his name one day. It's only fair; you wear yours on your uniform every day.
He looks like a Peter, you decide.
He probably stops by for something familiar. The smell of the shop, the seasonal decorations on the front door… your uniform. Maybe even to see a friendly face.
Sometimes he walks in ready for a new day. Other times, he looks like he had to drag himself out of bed. You notice occasional bruises and shallow cuts scattered around his face, trailing down the collar of his shirt, and even then, he's there an hour after you open the shop. You keep your mouth shut whenever that happens.
They're usually gone the next day anyway.
He greets you by name now, offering whatever smile he can muster. He tells you he liked the apple fritter you warmed up for him the other day. It was chilly and he seemed to bring the cold in with him, curls windswept like he's been skydiving.
You don't say anything. You don't really engage in conversations with customers. And he's never tried to make small talk with you until now.
Even when you turn away to pick up the donut of the day, he continues talking, not bothered by the one-sided conversation he's carrying on his own.
He says something about how his aunt banned him from drinking caffeine for a while and how the coffee you make is the best stuff he's ever had. The blatantly false compliment has you tuning out his rambling as you warm up his donut. You know the coffee is shit, but you just serve what you're given. You pour the coffee, add cream and three packs of sugar.
When you place his food on the counter and ring up his order, you realize he's stopped talking. Instead, he's just looking at you. His eyes linger, carrying a strange look of recognition -- as if every day at this shop hasn't been the same as the last. There's nothing new to notice.
"What?"
He blinks.
"Nothing."
"You were saying something."
His mouth opens, then closes. "I was? Right. I was just… talking."
"Okay…" You eye him for a moment before pushing his items closer to him. "Your total is $4.50."
---
He misses a day.
Then a day turns into two.
And then a week.
It's a slow week…
---
Right before closing time, he shows up, soaked to the bone. Layers of clothes stick to him, but he doesn't seem to notice. He walks in like nothing happened.
Maybe he forgot an umbrella.
Then his eyes meet yours, tired and rimmed red.
Maybe he didn't want an umbrella.
He orders a coffee with a soft voice.
Just a coffee.
When you slide it across the counter, he reaches for it without saying anything, three dollars already in his other hand. His fingers curl around the paper cup, lingering there as though he's trying to absorb its warmth.
You take the bills and hand him back a quarter. His hand trembles slightly when your fingers accidentally brush against his calloused palm. He probably doesn't like to be touched.
He closes his hand around the coin, holding onto it for a moment before slipping it into a pocket. You try to hold yourself back, but the words leave your lips before you can stop yourself.
"You disappeared."
He pauses. "Yeah."
"You usually come every day."
"I know." His gaze drops to the coffee in his hands. He rubs his thumb over the paper sleeve, watching the cardboard darken beneath his damp fingers. "I had some stuff going on…"
Stuff. He clearly does not want to talk about it. You just nod, expecting him to leave it at that and walk right back into the storm.
But he doesn't.
"You noticed?" It's the first time he's spoken up this evening.
You frown, "You come here every morning."
"Yeah."
"So I noticed." You shrug. His mouth twitches, almost a smile. The expression leaves a strange warmth behind, one you immediately try to ignore. It's uncomfortable.
How can he smile when he looks a mess like that?
"I didn't think you paid attention."
"I don't." You insist.
"You just said you noticed."
"I notice everyone."
"Sure." He smiles properly this time, though it's tired and doesn't last long. When the last word settles between you, the brief warmth between you fades, leaving the shop quiet again.
Rain taps against the windows, softer now. His clothes are still dripping onto the floor, and his coffee is probably lukewarm at this point.
His eyes drift toward the back of the shop.
You follow his gaze.
Empty.
"It's just me again." You say softly.
"I know." He finally looks back, his eyes soft. "That's why I came."
You stare at him.
The words pool strangely around you. Suddenly, you're more aware that it's just the two of you in the store. Strangers who meet every day -- separated by a counter.
"You came for me?" You ask, trying to clarify.
He shifts, glancing down at the coffee between his hands. "I guess."
"You don't even know me."
"I know you." He defends lightly. "I know your name."
"Right, the name that's displayed on my uniform…?"
"You know what I order." He tries again.
You narrow your eyes at him, "I know what you order."
"See? I know things." He smiles faintly. You almost give into that smile. Almost. But you catch yourself.
It's good that he's okay -- that he's talking and smiling and looking at you. It's good because he's a loyal customer. He keeps coming back, even with the shitty, burnt coffee you serve him. He knows your name, and you know his. That's all.
You glance at the clock. The shop should've been closed 10 minutes ago.
"We're closing, Peter." You say, locking up the register for the night.
He pauses. It's the first time you've used his name since he gave it to you.
"Right." He watches you clean up and organize the counter, making no effort to hide that he's delaying his departure. When you catch him looking, he quickly stares down at his untouched coffee, trying to play it off. You hide a smile as you finally finish up your closing duties.
"So… I'll see you tomorrow?" He asks hesitantly.
"You usually do."
Despite your blunt words, his shoulders relax at your response.
