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Peter pressed his face against your window, twisting himself at an angle to try and see whether or not you were sound asleep in your bed.

He could just barely make out the outline of your body beneath the sheets. He gritted his teeth, lowering his forehead to the window to mentally prepare himself to sneak in your room without waking you up.

Usually you'd wait up for him, but Peter didn't like how much your sleep schedule had suffered because of his late nights fighting crime. You thought you were hiding the dark circles and yawns well enough, but he quickly took notice.

He was able to convince you to go to bed without him, reassuring you that he'd be there when you woke—and he always was, but not without great struggle.

With a deep breath, he pressed his fingertips to the glass, applying just the right amount of pressure to slide it open. He paused when it creaked, his face scrunching as he waited for any sign that you’d woken up. When nothing came, he exhaled a shaky exhale and slid it fully open. 

He carefully climbed through, dropping to the floor as silently as he could, stilling to listen to your even breaths. He pulled off his mask with a sigh of relief when the cool air in your room met his flushed face. 

He was doing well peeling the suit off his body until his foot caught on the leg when he tried pulling it out. He stumbled forward, seconds away from falling when he shot a web out behind him, using the wall to catch himself.

His heart hammered hard in his chest as he pulled himself back up, cursing under his breath while kicking the suit away to the corner of your room. 

He tip-toed back to your bed, slowly pulling the covers back to slide in behind you. He laid still for a moment, his body stiff as he debated on whether or not he should slide closer to you. 

Eventually the scent of your intoxicating shampoo drew him in closer. He lifted his arm, subtly shifting over, inches away from slipping it around your waist.

Your head turned on the pillow, eyes wide and alert in the dark room.

“Welcome home.”

Peter flinched back with a surprised yelp, his hand instinctively darting out to release a powerful web that shot across the room, connecting with your dresser mirror with a loud crack! The glass shattered as shards trickled down to the table top.

Peter clutched a hand to his chest, gulping in deep breaths. “What the hell was that!”

“I hope you're gonna replace that,” you said, your voice calm in comparison to the chaos you'd just caused. 

He gave you a bewildered stare, his face illuminated only by the moonlight casting in from the window. “You’re awake?”

You nodded, turning on your side to face him fully. “I’ve been awake this whole time.”

“Oh…” He arched a confused brow at you. “Why didn't you say anything?”

You only shrugged with a playful smile growing on your lips. 

He scoffed, sinking back down to the sheets as his heart finally settled, the tension in his body melting into exasperation. “Well thank you, for the heart attack. And sorry for—um that…”

His voice trailed off when you leaned in closer to him with wide, careful, assessing eyes. Your fingers reached out to brush over the dark purple bruise below his eye. “This looks like it hurts,” you murmured with a frown.

Peter swallowed with a tiny nod, his heart that had calmed down picking back up under your attention. 

The corners of your lips turned up at how shy and nervous he still got with you. You leaned in to press a featherlight kiss to the bruise, so soft and careful, causing Peter’s eyes to flutter shut with a drawn out sigh of contentment. 

You kissed the scratch over his nose bridge next, then forehead, then his other cheek, and over the corner of his mouth. You peppered his whole face with tiny, healing kisses, each one relaxing his body until he was biting back his own giddy smile.

You giggled at the sight, your laughs growing louder when he slipped his arms around your body, flipping you over until you were laid out beneath him, cocooned in his warmth. He gave you a few short pecks that gradually slowed to a deep, languid kiss, his lips warm and slightly chapped against yours.

“Thank you,” he whispered, rubbing his nose against yours, voice clouded with exhaustion. “For staying up for me.”

You cradled his cheeks in your hands, your eyes sparkling as they stared deep in his. “This is my favorite part of the day.”

His cheeks heated under your palms, the pink flush barely visible in the low light. You couldn't resist kissing him again, your lips a magnet to his. 

You gently guided him down until his head was resting on your chest, his body settling over yours like a weighted blanket. You ran your hands through his already messy curls, scratching at his scalp. 

He nuzzled deeper into you with a loud, satisfied groan.

“And this,” he mumbled, his words slurring together, “Is my favorite part.”

You smirked, tugging lightly at the strands to draw out a breathy whine from him. “If only the world could see their Spiderman now.”

You waited for a witty response but were only met with his light exhales, followed by soft snores a few moments later. 

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