a/n: I feel like I haven’t written on here in a while, but was in the mood to write something little. Hope you enjoy :)
synopsis: peter comes back to you after a late night of parole, slight angst and fluff ensues.
warnings: some brief mentions of injury
The crisp air that managed to escape from beneath your window made its way to where you sat up in bed, and you shifted beneath your multiple blankets. ‘Should I close it?...No, keep it open for Peter.’ You thought to yourself, rather lacking sureness. ‘He’ll be back soon.’ You continued to ruminate in thought after having been staring at your phone for over an hour. You’d been switching between the same 3 apps to mindlessly distract yourself. It was an attempt to ward off sleep, in the hope of seeing your boyfriend after a late night of paroling. You hadn’t seen him before bed in over a week, and you made him promise to get back home earlier. Although, he usually had difficulty keeping promises.
You huffed, defeated. Sleep began to lull you into its grasp. You checked your phone for any messages from Peter, (and there were none), so you placed it on your bedside table. You then comfortably laid back, prepared to fall within the realm of sleep. That is, until you heard a brisk ‘swoop’ sound outside, followed by a light ‘thud’ sound against the floorboards indoors. As usual, he climbed through the window.
You briskly sat up in bed, quick to switch on the lamp.
‘Jeez!’ Peter yelped. Still clad in his spidey-suit. His suit’s spider-like eyes twitched, adjusting to the sudden light.
“Peter...it’s two thirty, love,” You sighed. Peter’s demeanor changed, and you could tell just by his posture that he was already ridden with guilt.
“I know, I know,” he said, removing his bodysuit, yet simultaneously trying not to pull off his mask. “There were just ‘lotta bad guys tonight.”
You let out a ‘humph’ sorta sound, as you eyed Pete getting ready for bed. You couldn’t help but feel a little upset still, regardless of his nightly hero duties.
“I’m really in the mood for cuddles right now, though,” Peter whispered, clambering underneath the covers, in only his boxers. And— his mask.
“Peter?” You asked, the two of you sitting up facing one another in bed. “Your mask?”
“Oh, right.” He peeled off the lower half of his spidey face, uncovering his chin, lips, and a part of his nose.
Taking your response as an invitation, Peter lent in for a kiss, and in surprise, you dodged it.
“Uh, Pete, I kinda wanna see, you know, your whole face.” You said on the verge of laughter.
You faltered at his stillness, and almost could’ve sworn he gulped. Your eyes shifted into a look of concern. “Pete-“ you started.
Bringing your hands up to his face, his body tensing underneath your touch, you delicately peeled the material upwards, unmasking your boyfriend. Gasping, and stopping at the sight of his eyes. Peter’s eyes were tightly shut, one eye particularly battered and bruised. He gently opened them, a guilty smile plastered across his face, and he reluctantly removed his mask entirely. Revealing a gash at the top of his head and minor cuts across the rest of his features.
“Peter!!!” You whispered harshly, and clambered on top of him. Legs clung around his waist, you brought your hands to his face and inspected his few injuries. The main one being his massive black eye. Peter half-heartedly chuckled, yet winced as you ran your fingers across his injuries. And, as you gently grazed your thumb across a long cut.
“Argh, Pete,” you said gruffly in exasperation, and jumped off your boyfriend, rushing off to grab his usual needed medical equipment. You returned shortly, ointments and bandages in hand, “Peter, you know I don’t like doing this stuff,” you sighed. Collecting the various items beside you as you sat on his lap once more. He placed his hands at your waist in an attempt to balance you.
“I know, lovie, but you know why I can’t go to medical professionals— they’re gonna want to know how the hell I ended up like this.”
“Yeah, but couldn’t you go to Mr. Stark or something?” You pouted.
“Nope, wanted to come straight home to you, love,” Peter smiled, as you placed some ointments on his wounds. “Plus, I made a promise.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t care about a stupid promise over your health, Pete. This is some serious shit, and I’m barely medical skilled.” You whispered, whilst dabbing the ointment across his wounds, “—I’m just worried about you, Peter.”
“Don’t worry y/n, I’ve got some pretty sick Spidey senses for this stuff, and I’ve got my best girl. Now kiss me better.”
You rolled your eyes, but pecked each (now) bandaged cut.
