˚✧ Red ✧˚

Synopsis: After reading Peter’s letter and rejecting him, you invite him inside your apartment to talk

“Sorry about him. He’s just excited that you’re here.” You said once Ned left the apartment to get the food he’d ordered. You and Peter were alone once again, with you on the couch and him sitting on the floor. He was preoccupied by a Lego set Ned had put out, but you were still thinking out the letter you’d found. The letter that informed you that you and Peter were once together, but you had his existence entirely wiped from your memory.

“It’s all good. This is honestly the most fun I’ve had in years.” Peter told you as he fitted another two blocks together.

“Really? You don’t do Lego nights with your new friends?”

“No, no. I didn’t really make any. Not the kinds that like to build Lego’s, anyways. I’m pretty busy with Spiderman stuff.” He answered you. There was no self pity in his voice, but that only made you feel all the more guilty. The more you thought about what his last four years must’ve been like compared to yours, you wanted to break down into tears and hold him tight. You had to look away from him when your eyes began to water.

“That makes me sad.” You admitted as you discreetly dabbed at your eyes.

“What does?” He wondered.

“Thinking of you going through all of this alone. I mean, Ned and I had each other, but we didn’t even know that we had lost something. You really didn’t have anyone?”

“No, but it’s okay.” He assured you. “Don’t feel sad. I made the decision to have the spell cast. I knew what it would do.”

“I don’t know if I could have done something that selfless.” You shook your head and continued to dodge his gaze. Peter watched you and could tell you were emotional and trying to hide it from him, but he knew you too well. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel any kind of remorse for a decision he made.

“Yeah, well, I guess I’m just a better person than you.” He shrugged and watched your reaction carefully. Despite forgetting him, his sense of humor still worked on you. You cracked a smile and looked at him.

“You’re funny.” You told him. “That’s something I’ve learned about you so far. Selfless and funny.”

“And humble.” He added, making you smile again.

“Right, and humble.” You nodded. You watched him build the Lego set some more as the two of you sat in comfortable silence. Peter had a million things he wanted to say to you, but didn’t want to overwhelm you, so he kept quiet.

“Gentle, too.” You said after a beat of silence.

“Gentle?” He tilted his head.

“The way you held me when you swung me home.” You explained. “You kept me secure, but it still felt respectful of my space. And you swung us back so slowly and carefully. Even… even after what I had just said to you.”

Since he still had his mask on, you watched his body language carefully to see how he reacted to being reminded of you telling him you didn’t love him. You wanted to see if it was crushing him as much as it was crushing you, or if he was more understanding. But he was too hard to read.

“You know, you never really liked swinging with me.” Peter laughed softly. “It used to scare you, understandably so. That’s why I went so slow. I didn’t want to freak you out anymore than you probably already are. I know reading that letter must’ve been a lot.”

“I’m right, then.” You smiled coyly. “You are gentle. And considerate. That’s another thing I know about you now.”

“Collecting data on me, are you?” Peter asked, grateful that his mask was concealed the delighted smile he was wearing. After the heavy conversation you’d had after you discovered the letter, he was appreciating each shred of tenderness between the two of you.

“Wouldn’t you? If someone showed up at your door and said “hey, by the way, we were together, but I was wiped from your memory”, wouldn’t you want to learn everything about them to see why you once loved them?”

“Honestly, I don’t even know if I’d believe them.” Peter admitted. “I’m actually kinda surprised that you did. You’re usually pretty skeptical and like to see things for yourself. For all you know, I could be making this all up as a really elaborate way to ask you out.”

“I didn’t even think of that.” You realized. “I just automatically believed you when I read the letter.”

“Why do you think that was?” Peter wondered as he looked over at you.

“I don’t really know. I think it just made sense to me. All throughout college, I felt like there was something missing in my life. Nothing ever satisfied me - no job, no guy, no achievement, because I always felt like I was waiting for something more. So when I read your letter, it all made sense. I knew what I’d be waiting for was actually a who. And that’s you.”

Peter could do little to suppress the onset of hope growing within him that maybe you whole heartedly believing him meant a part of you remembered him. He was quiet for a minute and felt himself getting emotional once more. He couldn’t wipe his eyes since he still had his mask on, so he nodded his head and looked down.

Peter could feel your gaze all over him, but his voice was too shaky to speak. After being told by both you and Jean that you had no thoughts of him, it meant everything to him that some part of you had felt his absence.

“Well I very grateful that you believed me.” He said once he finally trusted his voice not to crack. You smiled sadly and then looked down at your lap. Peter watched you, feeling like there was something at the tip of your tongue that you’d been holding back for the entirety of the conversation.

“Hey, Peter?” You asked in a timid voice.

“Yeah?”

“I feel really bad about what I said to you before. About not loving you, I mean.” You admitted, still keeping your eyes down. Peter swallowed and looked away as well as he mentally prepared himself to have this conversation again.

“Oh, that’s…that’s okay.” He said kindly. “I don’t want you to worry about that, okay? Don’t feel bad. It’s….everything is okay.”

“None of this is okay.” You said tearfully. “That must’ve been really awful to hear after you waited so long to talk to me. I can’t stop thinking about your face when I said it. I keep replaying it in my mind.”

Peter didn’t say anything for a long time. Finally, he stood up from his spot on the floor and sat beside you on your couch. You watched him through tear stained eyelashes and moved over a little to be closer to him. Silently, Peter took a box of tissues off the end table and handed them to you.

“I really don’t want this to weigh on you.” He said finally. “What you said, it’s really okay. How could you love me? You don’t know me.”

“I think I just felt really angry in that moment. I remember you coming into the donut shop before I started school. I remember you holding that letter in your hand. You looked like you had something to tell me.” You recalled as you dried your eyes with your tissue.

“I wish I had just told you then.” Peter sighed. “I really do. I’m sorry I took that choice from you.”

You stared at him for a moment and wished you could pull his mask off and look into his eyes. You settled for the glimpse of them that you could get through the white of his mask, and found unexpected comfort in them.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner, Peter?” You whispered. “We could have been rebuilding this whole time. I could’ve been getting to know you this whole time. But now, I feel like you’ve been taken from me twice.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Was all he could say. You could tell he was crying too. You wiped your eyes again and then started to rip up the tissue to give your hands something to do.

“It’s strange. I don’t remember you, but I can still feel what a loss that is.” You said as if you were thinking out loud. As you looked into Peter’s eyes, he had never seen you look so lost. He decided you’d both gone long enough without connection and pulled off his mask.

“What are you doing? Put it back on. Ned could come back any minute.” You warned him as your head whipped to the door to see if Ned had returned.

“I don’t care.” Peter shook his head. “I have to tell you this.”

“Tell me what?” You asked as your eyes desperately searched his face to try and jog your memory.

“I am truly sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner. But you have to understand that it only came from a place of wanting to protect you.”

He paused as though he was carefully considering his next words. His knee was bouncing up and down, seemingly unbeknownst to him, so you put your hand on top of it. It stopped bouncing almost immediately and he instinctively put his hand on top of yours. He rubbed his thumb over your knuckles for just a second before remembering that you didn’t have that kind of relationship anymore. He quickly withdrew his hand and wiped his eyes.

“When I first went to give you the letter all those years ago, I had just come back from my aunts grave. I was carrying the weight of my lifestyle being the cause of her death. Seeing your face that day was the only thing that eased the pain. But then I saw that you still had a bandage on your face from helping me when I was fighting some people. You probably don’t remember that either.”

You reached up and touched the scar above your right eyebrow when you heard this. Something you’d always chalked up to being a birthmark or leftover scrape from childhood had been a connection to Peter this whole time.

“When I looked at you and heard how excited you were to go off to school, you seemed so peaceful.” Peter continued. “I couldn’t bring myself to tell you. I couldn’t complicate your life all over again and risk you getting killed for me.”

You chewed your bottom lip for a moment as you processed what he was saying. You could understand his reasoning to a point, but you still wished he had let you make the decision for yourself.

“Did I know you were Spiderman when we were together?” You asked him.

“Yeah. You figured it out.” He said with a soft laugh when he remembered the night you told him you knew his secret. You didn’t seemed pleased by that answer and frowned at him.

“But doesn’t that mean I already knew the risk? And was with you regardless?”

“You were.” He had to agree. “I guess it didn’t feel like a risk anymore after my aunt passed. It felt inevitable.”

You sighed and put your hand back on Peter’s knee. He looked into your eyes expecting residual anger, but they were only soft now.

“I understand why you did what you did. But I don’t want you to make decisions like that for me ever again, okay?” You said firmly but kindly.

“I won’t.” He nodded. “Never again. I promise.”

“Good. Because if I’m back in your life now, I need to be able to trust you.”

“You can. I’ll make it up to you.” He assured you. The faintest hint of a smile crept onto his face, so he looked down in attempt to hide it.

“What?” You wondered.

“I didn’t realize this meant you were officially back in my life.” He said in a quiet voice. You could hear a difference in his voice as he spoke, sounding much lighter than he had since he first reentered your life.

“Ned and I are, yeah.” You said simply, not understanding how desperately he needed to hear that.

“That’s, uh, that’s really great to hear.” He nodded and kept his head low so you wouldn’t see his misty eyes. He didn’t want you to see that he was all choked up over the mere fact you were someone he could talk to again.

“You could’ve heard it four years ago.” You said out the corner of his mouth. Peter let out a soft chuckle at that, making you smile as well. The atmosphere in the room finally felt a little less intense and you were able to smile at each other.

“Are you gonna remind me of that for the rest of our lives?” Peter asked you, secretly thrilled to have the beginning of some kind of inside joke with you. Inside jokes existed between people who meant something to each other, giving him hope that this would be the first of many between you.

“Almost definitely.” You assured him.

“I deserve that.” He shrugged. To his surprise, your smile fell and a very serious look crossed your face.

“You don’t deserve any of this.” You stated as you stared into his eyes. Peter blinked at the sudden candor from you and nodded his head to show you he heard you.

“I appreciate you saying that.” He said, voice quiet once again.

“I mean it, Peter.” You insisted. “No one should have ever had to go through what you’ve gone through. But you don’t have to go through it alone anymore. I’m here for you now. As long as you’re honest with me.”

“Since I’m being honest, there’s actually something else I have to tell you.”

“Oh God.” You sighed. “There’s more? What else could you possibly have to tell me?”

“You know how I came into your room the other day and told you someone bad was after you? And then we found out later that it was Jean?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“After I got you out of your apartment, we landed on a rooftop. I thought I had gotten us far enough away from Jean where she couldn’t get us, but I didn’t. She took you over at some point without me realizing. And she, uh, she kissed me.” Peter admitted. He’d been carrying the shame from the moment he’d realized it was Jean, and not you, who kissed him. In the spirit of rebuilding your relationship, he knew he had to be honest with you.

“Oh. I didn’t know that happened. Everything just sort of switched off after we left my apartment.” You frowned and tried to recall the moments between Peter rushing into your open window and you waking up in his arms on the sidewalk after Jean threw you off the rooftop.

“I assumed you didn’t know. But I wanted you to know that I kissed you back. Or, her back, I guess. But only because I thought it was you. I really thought we were safe from her up there. If I had known it wasn’t really you, I never would’ve kissed her back. Or, you back. I don’t know exactly. I just want you to know that I’m really sorry.”

“I appreciate you telling me that.” You smiled sadly at him. “And your apology. I’m pretty disgusted that she used my body like that, but I don’t blame you for it. I know you wouldn’t have kissed me if you knew the truth.”

“I wouldn’t. Ever. But I’m still sorry.”

“I forgive you, since you didn’t know. Plus, I’m sure we’ve kissed before, right?”

“Yeah.” Peter blushed. “We have.”

“I figured. That explains why I don’t remember my first kiss.” You said with a sad laugh. Peter could tell that bothered you but stayed silent to let you process it.

“Or my first time.” You realized. “Was that you, too?”

“Yeah, yeah that was me.” Peter said weakly. He was bright red now, but luckily, you weren’t looking at him.

“Damn. And here I thought I was a virgin.”

“Definitely not.” Peter mumbled.

“Definitely not?” You repeated through a laugh. “Damn, Spiderman. What were we getting up to?”

Before he could answer, he watched your face slowly drop into a frown. You slumped back on the couch and stared off into the distance but not at anything in particular.

“That’s actually hitting me pretty hard.” You confessed. “Those were two pivotal moments in my life and I have no memory of them. Or of being in love. Or, I’m sorry. Were we in love? How serious was our relationship? Your letter just said we were together.”

“Very serious and very much in love. We were that annoying couple that sat on the same side of the booth at restaurants.” He informed you. You smiled a little at that, but he could tell you were still grieving the loss of memories for those foundational moments in your life.

“Oh God. Really?” You asked in total disbelief, feeling unable to imagine yourself as one half of a couple that did that.

“Oh yes. And always holding hands. Even under the desk in class. People would make fun of us sometimes. But even when they did, you never let go of my hand.”

“I mean, that’s pretty sweet.” You admitted. “As long as we weren’t the kind of high school couple that would like bark at each other or make out to say goodbye if we had different classes.”

“No, no barking.” He chuckled. “Just holding hands. And you’d wear my debate club hoodie. You always said it was because it smelled like me, but I really think you just didn’t want to buy your own.”

“That sounds like me. I actually still have that. I thought it was mine.”

“It’s mine. My initials are on the tag.”

“Really?” Your eyes widened. “How did I not notice that? I did notice it smelled like cologne, though. But I thought that was because Ned had borrowed it or something.”

“Nope. All me.” Peter said proudly.

“What else?” You asked as you leaned your chin on your hands to look at him. You resembled a kid eagerly waiting to hear the next part of a storybook, and that made Peter eager to tell you.

“You’d come over every Friday and my aunt would make us some bizarre recipe she saw online. It was never good, and rarely edible, but you’d always pretend to like it. And then we’d sneak out and get McDonald’s.”

“May.” You recalled. “I could never remember how I knew her. Or why I spent so much time at a 50 year old woman’s home in my teens.”

“Yeah, May.” He smiled sadly. “We’d watch movies in your room a lot. You let me show you all my favorites. If you complimented something random about the movie after we watched it, I knew that meant you didn’t like it. Like, “the score was really powerful” or “the costumes were so detailed”. That’s when I’d think yep, she hated it.”

“Is that why I’ve seen all the Star Wars movies? That’s your doing?”

“Oh, yes.” He nodded. “That’s all me.”

“Keep going.” You said, thought it sounded more like a plead.

“You always had my back. Always. You don’t remember this, but before the spell, my identity got revealed to the world. You went down swinging for me anytime someone said something to me. Even though it was making things harder for you.”

“Harder how?”

“You got fired from your job. So did Ned. And neither of you got into MIT because you were linked to the “controversy” about me.” He explained.

“I can’t believe that happened. I don’t remember any of that.”

“It did. That’s part of the reason I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Which you’re sorry about.” You reminded him.

“Right, which I’m sorry about.” He nodded in agreement and cracked a smile at you keeping him in line. You frowned again and touched a gentle hand to Peter’s cheek, to which he instantly melted into.

“You gave up so much for Ned and I to have normal lives. And we had no idea for all this time.” You said in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course. I would do anything to protect you guys. Anything.”

“I can’t tell you how much I wish I had our memories.” You stayed in a hushed tone as you stroked his freckles with your thumb.

“I really wish you did too.” He said, voice beginning to waver as well. You gave him a teary smile and then wiped your eyes with the back of your hand.

“Listen, um, I know that I said before that I’m grateful for what you sacrificed for me, but that I don’t know you.”

“I remember.” Peter said quietly.

“But I’d like to.” You continued. Peter stared into your eyes for what felt like a really long time, unwilling to blindly trust that this was really you talking and not another trick.

“If that’s okay?” You added when he didn’t respond.

“Can I have four years to think about it?” He said finally, making you laugh through your tears and pull him into a hug. He hugged you back as tightly as he could and let himself trust that this was real. He buried your face in his shoulder, letting himself grow familiar with the new perfume you wore. You held him just as tightly, feeling your muscle memory kick it as you gripped the curls on the top of his head.

“No, you may not.” You said into his shoulder. “I think we’ve lost enough time.”

Tag List 🏷️

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A reason.

A flaw.

Some tiny, irritating characteristic that would justify the dislike they'd both somehow managed to develop before they'd even met.

They were more than ready to find some reason not to like each other. 

Neither had particularly appreciated the fact that the other man had become important to you.

That was the real problem. 

Something neither of them were particularly proud of. 

You had talked about Peter enough that Dennis already knew him in fragments.

Peter.

Your Peter.

The friend from New York.

The one who had apparently been there for you through everything.

The one whose name appeared on your phone more frequently than almost anyone else's.

The one you sometimes called after a particularly bad shift, even if you didn't have anything specific to say.

And Peter knew all about Dennis.

The farm.

The apartment.

The hospital.

The stories you told about him.

The meals he'd left in the fridge for you before shifts.

The way he'd apparently become your designated person for grocery shopping because you had once forgotten half your list and somehow come home with three different types of cheese.

Peter had listened.

He'd filed it away.

And neither man had particularly enjoyed the knowledge that there was someone else who knew you.

Someone else who got pieces of you that belonged to them.

So they'd arrived at dinner ready.

Ready to find something wrong.

Anything.

Peter waited for him to interrupt you.

He didn't.

Dennis waited for Peter to make some arrogant remark.

He didn't.

They waited for one another to say something irritating.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

It was infuriating.

Neither of them could pinpoint a single reason to dislike the other. 

Because Dennis couldn't seem to fault Peter.

He was funny.

Genuinely funny.

Not in the way Dennis had expected. He was also ridiculously intelligent, although Peter seemed to merely ramble on, before laughing awkwardly after realising he had gotten lost underneath a steady stream of jokes and terrible puns.

He listened.

He asked questions.

He remembered things.

He even helped Trinity clear the plates without being asked.

And Dennis could see it.

Could see immediately why you and Peter were so close.

Peter had this way of looking at you whenever you spoke.

Not staring.

Not even necessarily consciously.

Just–

Looking.

Like he was already listening before you'd finished the sentence. Like he was giving you his complete attention. His complete focus, just as you deserved.

And you did it too.

You turned toward him instinctively. You anticipated his reactions.

Sometimes he didn't even need to explain something before you understood.

A glance.

A raised eyebrow.

A tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth.

And you knew.

Dennis noticed.

Of course he noticed. He couldn’t help but notice…

But he couldn't exactly fault Peter for it.

Because Peter was–

Good.

And Peter had to admit that Dennis was, unfortunately, also good.

Calm.

Considerate.

Funny in a much quieter way. In a way that was far more incidental. 

The sort of person who noticed when your glass was empty and filled it without interrupting the conversation.

The sort of person who remembered that you hated mushrooms and quietly picked them out of your portion before you noticed.

Peter appreciated that.

He appreciated it far more than he wanted to.

By the time dinner was finished, the four of you were laughing.

Actually laughing.

You sat back in your chair, looking between the two men who had spent the better part of the last few weeks mentally preparing themselves for this encounter.

And you narrowed your eyes, "Why are you both being weird?"

Peter blinked, "We're not."

"I'm not being weird,” Dennis frowned. 

"You are."

"How?"

"I don't know. You're both being suspiciously polite,” you shrug, before glancing at Trinity to determine whether it was just you that was picking up on this strange vibe. 

Peter glanced at Dennis.

Dennis glanced at Peter.

And there it was.

A silent exchange.

You stared, "See! You're doing it!"

Peter immediately looked innocent.

Dennis picked up his glass.

You groaned. Whilst Trinity laughed from across the table, more than fully aware of the way Dennis felt about you–the way he had worried about Peter’s arrival. 

And somehow, against all odds–

The evening worked.

Just maybe the Summer would go smoothly, you smiled at the idea. Glad to see some of your closest friends get along. 

…

The adjustment was surprisingly easy. 

Easier than either of you had expected. 

Peter simply seemed to fit right into the rhythm of it all almost seamlessly. As though he had always been a part of it all. 

Chipping in, helping, whether it be picking up things from the store–washing the dishes or vacuuming. 

Movie nights became part of the routine. With picks ranging from Sci-Fi, to Action, and even a few feel good Rom-Coms. 

Meals shared amongst each other, swapping stories from the day. 

Dennis was able to get to know Peter, and Peter was able to learn more about Dennis. 

While neither might recognise each other as friends, just yet, they were certainly friendly. 

There were simply brief moments–small flickers of unease. 

Moments when Dennis would catch the comfortable relationship you and Peter had. The familiarity that brewed between you both. 

Something that Dennis couldn’t help but be envious of.  

He occasionally came home with some random little thing he'd found that he thought you'd like.

Dennis watched you light up over a particular pastry Peter had brought home one afternoon.

"How did you know I liked these?" You said with a bright smile, already taking a bite of the decadent cinnamon scroll, sighing in delight. 

"You mentioned it once,” he waved off the gesture as though it were nothing. 

You murmured out between bites, "That was like two months ago."

Peter shrugged, "Yeah?"

You stared at him before your eyes softened, warmed by his thoughtfulness. 

And Dennis.

Well he looked away.

Because–

Well.

That was nice.

Annoyingly nice. 

His chest clenching, squeezing uncomfortably from the way you looked at Peter. From the way Peter’s eyes met yours with that comfortable familiarity. With a tenderness. 

But there was another thing that Dennis had picked up on. Over the course of a few weeks Peter had been living with you both…

Dennis had noticed that Peter kept strange hours. Very strange hours.

There were nights when Dennis would wake up at two in the morning and hear the front door opening.

Peter would slip inside.

Quiet.

Careful.

Sometimes he'd walk a little strangely, as though trying to alleviate pressure off of his leg. 

Sometimes there'd be a bruise. Quickly dismissed as him being clumsy–walking into a door. 

Sometimes there’d be a cut on his cheek–only to be waved off as an accident whilst shaving.

And sometimes–

He'd just appear in the kitchen at three in the morning looking completely exhausted and proceed to eat half a loaf of bread like he hadn't seen food in a week.

Dennis had questions.

So many questions.

But Peter was private. 

Frantic, sometimes. A look of panic on his features before fading into one of sheepish awkwardness before he’d scurry back into his room, acting as though nothing had happened. 

There were phone calls he took outside.

Messages that made him suddenly leave.

Things he would refuse to explain. Or if he ever did explain it–it would be a little haphazard, a semblance of a hurried lie. 

And then there was the way you reacted.

Because you knew.

Dennis knew you knew.

He just didn't know what you knew.

Dennis notices the way you and Peter share glances–like some unknown secret tethered you both together. Like there was this strange understanding between you both. 

He would come into the living room and find you and Peter whispering over something.

He'd enter the kitchen and hear Peter say something like–"Do you think there’s a better way to improve the, you know?" 

And you'd immediately respond–your hands gesturing vaguely, "The thing with the–"

"The thing," Peter had nodded. 

"Well you could always add a little panel around there," you tried to explain, before cutting yourself short once you noticed Dennis enter the room.  

Dennis would stand there, brows knitting together in confusion,"...What thing?"

You'd look at Peter.

Peter would look at you.

And then you'd both say, "Nothing,” with a nervous smile. 

Dennis hated that word.

Nothing.

There was an entire universe of nothing happening between you both. An entire language.

Dennis felt out of the loop. 

Extremely so. 

Made even more clear whenever you and Peter would share or laugh over some inside joke, random references that were scarily specific.  

Stories that began halfway through because apparently Dennis was expected to understand the context through osmosis.

And then there were the moments where in the evening you’d simply throw your legs over Peter's lap while you were sitting on the couch.

Times when you’d rest your head against his shoulder.

Steal food from his plate.

Push his face away when he annoyed you. Or the way you’d snort whilst laughing at something Peter said. So free. Loud. 

And a completely unfiltered version of you.

Completely natural.

Completely effortless.

Like you'd been doing it forever.

And Dennis supposed you must have. And because of the growing discomfort in the pit of his stomach, the racing thoughts that couldn’t help but delve beyond what each action meant. 

Made Dennis turn away, because he didn't want to stare.

Didn't want to make it weird.

Didn’t want to make his jealousy obvious. 

He saw the closeness.

And, if he was being honest with himself, it scared him a little. Not because he thought you were secretly dating.

But because there was a history there that he couldn't compete with. Peter knew the version of you that existed before Pittsburgh.

Before Dennis.

Before the Pitt.

Peter knew New York.

He knew the people you'd left behind.

He knew the memories.

He knew the grief.

He knew you.

And Dennis–

Dennis was still learning.

Still figuring out which foods you liked. Still learning that when you said "I'm fine," in that particular tone, you absolutely weren't.

Still discovering the little things.

Still building something.

Piece by piece.

And unbeknownst to Dennis. 

Peter was doing the exact same thing.

Watching.

Learning.

Noticing.

Because Peter had his own realisation.

You and Dennis had become–

Fluid.

That was the word he'd use.

You moved around one another like you'd been doing it for years.

You knew which cereal he'd finished without looking.

He knew exactly which yoghurt you liked.

You'd go grocery shopping and come home with something he'd mentioned liking once.

Dennis would come home with your favourite chocolate because he'd noticed you'd had a bad shift.

Little things.

Small things.

The sort of things that didn't mean anything.

Except they did.

Peter saw it.

He'd be sitting on the couch watching you and Dennis argue about dinner, and he'd get this strange little feeling in his chest.

Because you'd found someone.

Someone here.

Someone who knew how to take care of you.

And Peter wanted to be happy about it.

He was happy about it.

Mostly.

Except sometimes–

Sometimes you would laugh at something Dennis said and Peter would feel that tiny, unpleasant tug somewhere beneath his ribs.

And he hated himself for it.

Because Dennis was good.

Dennis was really good.

Peter could see it.

And he could see the way Dennis looked at you.

Even if Dennis thought he was subtle.

He wasn't.

Not to Peter.

Peter knew what it looked like when someone was falling.

Because, unfortunately–

He knew exactly what it felt like.

Knew exactly what that feeling was that morphed each time Dennis looked at you. 

Because it was the very same thing that made Peter’s heart race each time your hands brushed his. 

Each time you laughed or smiled at something Peter did. 

Whenever your eyes crinkled. 

Or the way you’d ramble with a brightness in your eyes. 

He was simply reminded of all the ways his heart beat for you–so he was unsurprised to find that you had enthralled Dennis Whitaker the very same way. 

With all your endearing traits that simply made you, you.

He couldn’t fault Dennis for falling for you. 

Because Peter had done the very same thing. 

…

Things could only remain normal for so long. With the infrequent sightings of Spiderman across the local news outlets. 

It would only be a matter of time before Pittsburgh became the hyperfixation of certain villains. 

Of people wanting to take on Spiderman. 

And in the midst of an attack. 

From the moment you saw Spiderman swinging across the tv. You had grabbed your keys and headed straight to the ER far earlier than you were meant to, reports of injured civilians tallying up as the minutes passed. 

The details were still coming through when you arrived.

Something about flooding.

Structural damage.

Multiple injuries.

The ER was already filling.

You slipped into work mode almost immediately. Shoving your bag into your locker before delving straight into work. 

That was what you did. You compartmentalised to the extreme. 

It was simply how you handled working in such a high pressure environment. Work first–feelings later. 

Calm.

Collected.

Focused.

Even when everything around you was chaos.

Robby had barely finished assigning you a patient before you were moving. 

Vitals. History. Labs. Imaging.

You didn't stop.

You felt you couldn’t stop. 

But whilst working Dennis notices you're not quite yourself. 

Notices how you don’t compose yourself in the usual way. The slightest shift in your composure. 

Your eyes constantly flicking over to the nearby tv–hyperfixated on the news reports, as images of Spiderman amidst Pittsburgh floods the network. 

You’re normally so calm and collected amongst the chaotic ER. But now it feels as though you're distracted. 

Not enough to impede your work or judgement, but enough to be noticed by your colleagues, your friends…

Your eyes drift back towards the tv. 

The one mounted in the corner of the department.

News coverage.

Live footage.

Pittsburgh flooding.

Emergency crews.

People being evacuated.

And–

Spiderman.

Dennis’ eyes followed to land on your figure.

You were standing beside a patient's bed, listening to their lungs. But your eyes weren't entirely there. They kept flicking toward the screen.

Again.

And again.

And again.

At first Dennis assumed it was the attack.

Everyone was watching.

Everyone was concerned.

But then the footage changed.

Spiderman appeared on screen.

He was fighting. Fast. A blur of red and blue against the skyline. Moving with extreme agility, swinging between buildings. Strings of webs shooting out. 

As he scoops down to save civilians. To stop the cars being thrown through the sky. 

Dennis watched your face. And something changed.

Your entire body went still. 

Your breath hitched. Eyes widening from the sight. 

Spiderman was thrown.

Hard.

Into the side of a building. Straight through the walls. Disappearing in a cloud of debris. Vanished from view.

Your hand immediately went to your chest. 

Just for a second.

Fingers curling against your scrubs. Clutching as your heart raced. Your lip caught between your teeth. 

Dennis frowned.

You weren't listening to the patient anymore.

Not properly.

Your eyes were glued to the screen.

"Hey."

Jack elbows your side softly with a small furrow of his brow, concern laces his tone as he notes your distracted sight, “Get your head in the game, or go home,” he says with a firmness. 

Not to scold. 

But simply to check in. 

It was unusual for you to be so out of it. 

He watches you for a moment longer. Watches as you break your line of sight from the tv, before nodding, lips pulled thin, “I’m fine,” you breathed out a sigh of relief as Spiderman reappears on screen, before murmuring out, “Sorry”

He nods, a small pat on your back, “Good–c’mon,” he tilts his head. 

And you threw yourself back into the work.

But Dennis had seen it. Had seen the way your shoulders tensed. Had seen the way your fingers trembled slightly, the way they fidgeted with the edge of your shirt. 

And then–

The news anchor spoke. Words appearing at the bottom of the screen. 

Spideman was okay.

Apparently injured, but alive.

Safe.

The immediate danger had passed. Dennis watched your shoulders drop.

Actually drop.

The breath you hadn't realised you'd been holding escaped you.

And your hand slowly lowered from your chest.

Dennis’s brows dipped, furrowing in question as he watched you. 

You were worried.

Obviously.

Anyone would be worried.

Spiderman was a person. A hero. And you'd grown up in New York. You'd probably seen him before.

Maybe he'd saved someone you knew.

Maybe you'd watched him swing between buildings.

Maybe it was simply the strange sentimentality of seeing something familiar from home.

Dennis tried to explain it away.

Because that was easy.

That made sense.

You'd moved hours away from everything you knew.

You were watching your old city's hero on television.

Of course you'd feel something. Dennis tried to rationalise. Tried to find some semblance of reasoning. 

But Dennis couldn’t help but wonder whether it went a little further than that…

A little deeper than just concern. 

It felt like it hit a little closer to home…

Dennis had lived with you long enough now.

He knew what you looked like when you were worried.

He knew what you looked like when you were scared.

And that. 

That wasn't ordinary concern. 

It had been too visceral.

Too immediate.

Too personal.

He'd seen the way your entire body had reacted before your mind had caught up.

The way you'd clutched your chest. The way you'd stopped breathing. The way relief had visibly moved through you when Spiderman was declared safe.

Dennis' eyes narrowed slightly.

He didn't say anything.

Not then.

He wouldn't.

But later–

Later, when he was home hours after his shift had ended, just as yours was beginning. 

With Peter nowhere to be seen…

He could only assume he was safe-a message sent to the roommate group chat just a few hours ago saying he was staying back at the lab…

But something about that didn’t sit right with Dennis. 

Didn’t exactly settle with him as he found himself standing in the kitchen staring at nothing.

Thinking.

Spiderman.

Your reaction.

Peter's strange hours.

The bruises.

The frantic disappearing acts.

The secrecy.

The way Peter sometimes came home looking like he'd been hit by a truck.

Dennis' brow furrowed. His mind racing. Grasping at fragments of a puzzle he had no idea how to make. 

No. Absolutely not. That was ridiculous.

Peter was–

Peter.

Your friend.

Your roommate.

A nerd who once burnt a toaster.

A guy who couldn't be trusted within six feet of a kitchen appliance. 

Who Dennis had watched practically stumble into a doorframe and stub his toe…

Peter Parker was not–

Dennis’ thoughts came to a halt. As other realisations bleed into the forefront of his mind. 

Peter was weird.

He was absurdly strong sometimes. 

He had reflexes that were eerily accurate at times. Once catching a falling glass from across the kitchen without even looking.

Dennis had laughed about it.

Peter had laughed too, with a small sheepish smile, "Good reflexes."

Right.

Sure.

Dennis slowly rubbed his jaw, "No,” He said it aloud to the empty kitchen, "Absolutely not."

But the thought had already taken root.

And once it was there–

It was difficult to ignore.

Just as Dennis was about to turn in for the night, go to sleep. His eyes shoot over to your door. 

A clattering sound echoing out. A heavy thud reached his ears. 

“Hello?” Dennis calls out cautiously. Inching closer and closer to the door. 

He knew you weren’t there–knew you were currently in the ER working the night shift. Knew that there was no way that sound was you.

But if it wasn’t you…

Then who was it?

Grasping at the baseball bat you had insisted on keeping–Just in case! You had reasoned. Dennis approached the door, 

And in a fluid moment just as he grips the handle, he swings open the door. 

Arms poised and ready to swing. 

Until–

“Don’t swing!!” A panicked voice cries out. Arms outstretched, waving frantically. 

Dennis’ eyes widening at the sight–a suit of blue and bright red fills his vision. Bright white eyes staring back at him. 

Dennis’ fingers readjust on the bat. 

Brows creasing in concern. 

Tentative of the man before him. 

Why the fuck was Spiderman in his apartment?

Better yet–Why was he in your room?

The man clutches at his mask, before ripping it off. Tufts of brown hair unruly and messy, matted down from sweat. 

And then the eyes. 

“It’s me–I swear I’m not some random intruder!” he exclaims further. 

Dennis’ mouth falls open. The bat falling from his hands to land roughly on the floor. 

A loud thud coming from below followed by a shout–”Keep it down!”

Dennis and Peter instinctively call back apologetically, “Sorry Mrs Brown!” 

Before their eyes meet each other once more. 

Dennis’ mind, frantic from the information. Racing with thoughts. Piecing together every little interaction, every little detail. 

Peter’s hand slaps against his own forehead, rubbing at his temples, muttering to himself, “I forgot N/N had work tonight.”

Sighing, as his hand drops to his side. 

“Uh–” Peter offers a weak smile, “So–”

“You’re–” Dennis starts. 

Whilst Peter nods, “I’m–”

“Spiderman,” they say in unison. 

Peter rubs the side of his arm nervously, “Sorry–it’s not really the best ice breaker or easiest thing to mention” 

Dennis can’t help but be struck by the news. 

His mind trying to catch up with the influx of what this all meant. 

Caught up in the way you had reacted to the news. 

If Peter Parker really was Spiderman. 

Then the person who had reacted to that footage wasn't just his roommate.

Wasn't just his friend.

Wasn't just some girl who had moved hours away from New York and happened to be worried about a familiar hero.

You had reacted like someone watching someone they loved nearly die.

And Dennis didn't know what frightened him more.

The possibility that Peter Parker, his roommate, his romantic rival, was Spiderman. 

Or the possibility that you might love the web slinging hero.

Fucking shit. 

He knew there was something strange about him. 

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this part! The exploration into them being roommates, and how Peter and Dennis perceive each other-all while you're completely oblivious to their simmering contention over who you love. Also! Dennis now is in the know about Peter!!! 😳 can only imagine how he's feeling know that he knows Peter is that super strong and apparently one of your favourite heroes... He's got some stiff competition when it comes to winning your heart over. Let me know what you thought or if you'd like to be added to the taglist✨

Ok! the next part is going to explore a little more of Dennis and Peter talking-possibly airing out what's been unsaid for the last few weeks...And maybe you're pushed to make a few realisations too...

Read the Part 5: Something More here!

Comments, Reblogs and Likes are welcomed and appreciated 💕 If you enjoyed, consider checking out my Dennis Whitaker x Former Army Medic!ReaderTread Lightly Series Or check out my Dennis Whitaker Masterlist here

Which was perhaps a little ironic considering the amount of times you denied plucking their blooms from your neighbours garden…

No matter how many years passed. You always loved gardenias. 

And perhaps it was because they represented trust. 

A verb. 

A belief. 

An act.  

A promise. 

As humans we have an innate instinct to trust. 

As babies born into this world, we can do nothing but trust. 

Trust that you will be cared for. 

Trust you will be loved…

You start out in life. 

Trusting. 

It is one of the few things you can do at a young age. 

And so you hope that the trust sustains…

To trust one another. 

To trust that things will be ok. 

To trust that you will not be hurt…

But overtime. 

Your ability–your willingness to trust fractures with each time it is broken. With each action that tells you it was wrong to trust. 

Until eventually. 

You no longer trust easily—openly—instinctively. 

And whilst it is seen as self preservation. Mature. Rationale...

…Why is it that we see trust to be irrational? 

Naive...

Something to be given sparingly. 

And hard earned. 

Trust is not the issue. 

The issue is that others choose to break that trust. 

Abuse that trust. Time and time again. 

Until you are left simply questioning yourself…

Blaming yourself…For something that was simply an innate habit of yours. Something that you were born to do. 

Trust. 

Perhaps that was why you had gravitated towards paediatrics. 

Why you had followed a career in helping young children and babies, trying to simply preserve a little of their trust by doing all that you could to help.

By providing them a kind, gentle helping hand. 

But that didn't mean your trust came easily...

With each fractured promise, with each time someone broke your heart, broke your faith…With each time your trust had been rewarded with heart ache. 

A wall had begun to build. 

Heart hardening with each broken promise. With each let down. Your longing to see the best in people, shifted and morphed to become cynical. Doubting the words of promises. 

Choosing it to be easier to withhold your trust rather than have it shattered once more. 

But for the children, and toddlers, and babies, you would extend a little hope, a little faith. 

For them you would be a little kinder, a little softer–behave as though the world hadn’t hurt you, as though your heart wasn’t littered with scars yet to fully heal. 

At work, you would be Dr Daisy. With a calm and happy disposition, a gentle smile placed upon your lips, stickers and ribbons stuffed in your pockets waiting to be gifted. 

I will be your shoulder to cry on I will make you laugh if you need I will play the part if you say so Yeah, I'll be anybody but me

The heavy weight of your work stifled behind your smile. 

Buried deep within. 

Perhaps that was something you had recognised in Robby when you had first met him–had seen that same strained weight concealed beneath a dry wit. 

Perhaps. 

That was why you had placed your trust in him. 

One of the few people to have obtained your trust completely…

One of the few people you had let your guard slip around, for even just a fraction of a moment, you let the cracks of your persona bleed little by little into each interaction. 

Ever since the first moment you had met him. 

You couldn’t help but trust him. 

Trust that he would not be like the many that had hurt you before. 

Maybe it was due to the compassion he had shown the young girl you had been paged down to help. 

Maybe it was steady composure that held true–despite all the chaos, all the commotion, all the heartache, all the tough decisions, all the ruthlessness, all the sadness, the despair, the triumphs and pitfalls that were associated with the ER…

Robby remained a steady force to be reckoned with. 

A pillar of strength amidst the chaos. 

That’s the man you knew him to be, ever since you had met him all those months ago…

Until the fractures in his facade began to grow. Until who you had known him to be, started to shift. 

It was only then. 

Did you truly see who Robby was. Did you truly understand the depth of who he was. 

It was only then that you became acquainted with Michael. 

The multifaceted person, who carried with him the weight of the world, that very weight etched into his heart as a heavy toll unable to be shed. Unable to be lifted. 

Out of guilt. 

Out of honour. 

Out of some need to hold onto it all. 

For whatever reason, he simply couldn’t let go…

To tell you the truth, I'm a mess, I'm a fool You don't know that And you never will In my mind, it's instilled not to show that

You had heard whispers–had heard fragments of rumours. The day of Pittfest. The day you had been called into work, called into pedes–all hands on deck. The day that sirens cried out in the background. Cars careened into the bay. 

You had admitted as many of the children into your care as possible–and even then had taken to filling the halls. 

The hospital had been manic. 

And in the aftermath. In the lull. As it all came crashing down from the highs. 

You had caught wind. 

“Did you hear–Robby was seen on the floor–”

“–Slumped”

“Crying”

“Broken–”

The words blurred, the murmurs faded. 

The rumours, replaced with the next fixation. 

But they stayed with you. Permanently fixated in your mind. 

Each time you saw him. 

You couldn’t help but notice. 

How as the days turned into weeks, turned into months. 

You noticed. 

Noticed his curtness. His clipped tone. 

Not often, but often enough. 

I spend almost all of my time Feeling like I'm falling even further behind And I know I'm so good at seeming Like I'm not on the edge of a knife I'm the pretender, what can I tell ya? Designed to deceive So, tell me who you want me to be

“And why’re you gracing us with your presence, Angel?” Dana asked, eyes peering over her glasses, as she glanced over at you.

“Do I need a reason to be down here now? What if I just missed you?” you grinned. 

Her brows knit together in question, before dryly commenting, “Don’t think anyone comes down here willingly” 

You shrugged with a small laugh, before presenting the stacks of tupperware in hand, “Thought you guys could use a snack, a Mom came in with a bunch of homemade muffins, too many for us, so I thought I’d bring some down to you guys–lift the morale and what not”

Your eyes, without meaning to, scans the room. 

Searching. 

And with each passing face it lands on, your eyes dim ever so slightly. The smile on your face, fading little by little. 

She exaggeratedly nods her head in thanks, “Well I’m sure everyone will be grateful to see you here then,” before she offers a pointed look, “You’ll find him near the break room”

“Who–I’m not looking for anyone,” you stumbled out. 

Whether you meant to or not, your eyes instinctively searched for the attending that simply couldn’t stay still. 

Couldn’t stand by and do nothing. 

Couldn’t stop. 

…Because if he stopped…If Robby ever stopped–He never wanted to face what consequences that might bring…

She arched a brow, “Right–sure. Well when you see this person you’re definitely not looking for–can you remind him to eat something before he decides that being ‘hangry’ is his mood for the rest of the day,” she nudges you away not before snagging one of the muffins. 

As you walked through. 

Politely nodding, and smiling in greeting of all the familiar faces of the ER. 

You find him exactly where Dana had said. 

Had found him standing by one of the bays, hands moving instinctively as he sanitized them. Eyes trained on the patient, focused, Listening intently to Mohan as she recounts the details. 

His undivided attention. 

That was what he gave each and every one of his patients. Even with a million things on his mind. 

He always offered them his complete focus. 

It was something you admired. 

Something that could unfortunately be deemed a rarity in your job. 

As he turned, a small nod towards Mohan agreeing with her assessment, his eyes lifted, softening ever so slightly as they met yours. 

The crease in his brow, melts ever so slightly, a small quirk of his lip. 

“I don’t think anyone paged pedes?” He said with a small raise of his brow, whilst he walked over. 

“Sorry–I can just go and take these back upstairs then,” you said with a small teasing lilt, slightly lifting the stack of tupperware before slowly turning around. 

He holds out his hands, a shake of his head, “Let’s not be hasty–”

You laughed softly. 

That sound so bright, and bubbly like–melodic to Robby’s ears. A sound that can’t help but draw a smile to his face. 

He strides over to meet you, opening the staff room door helping you enter the room, your hands filled with the tupperware. 

“Dana said for me to tell you to eat something,” you said while passing him. 

As he followed over to help you. 

“Did she now?”

You nod, with a wolfish smile, and glint in your eye, “She might’ve called you hangry”

He huffed out a laugh. 

Laced with a depth, as it rumbled from his chest as though it fought to escape its confines–slipping through without meaning to. 

You look at him expectantly, “So have you?”

“Have I been what?” he tilted his head, arms folded over his chest. Leant back against the bench. 

“Been hangry?” you asked. 

He offered a shrug, scratching his beard, “Define hangry”

“Being a bitch because you denied yourself one of life’s greatest pleasures–eating,” you said dryly. Forcing him to crack another smile, a chuckle falling from his lips. 

You couldn’t help it if it mesmerised you just a little. 

Couldn’t help it if it brought a smile to your face. Made the weight on your chest feel a little lighter even as it squeezed. 

I can wear a million faces 'Cause I don't like the one underneath Always found it easy to fake it Yeah, I'll be anybody but me

With him, you would let your guard down a little. Would stop hiding behind your plastered smile. Your cheery persona. 

And I'll be Be my best impression of what you expect from me

Around him, you would let your walls break. Would let you crack before him. 

Because for some reason. 

You trusted him. 

Trusted him with who you were. In all its entirety. In all its complexities. 

You trusted him with the deepest parts of you. 

And for some reason. 

He trusted you as well. 

Allowed you to see the parts of himself he had worked so hard to deny. Worked so hard to hide. Worked so hard to bury deep within himself. 

As it all came crashing into the forefront of your relationship. In that fateful moment when you had come down to check on little Baby Jane Doe. 

In that fateful moment when your floodgates holding back your harshest emotions came pouring out. 

When you had lashed out. 

Feelings of hurt, of sadness, despair–all those pent up feelings–had poured out of you through strained tears and crackled cries. 

That moment when your storm of emotions came crashing against each other, strong willed and blurred by your own thoughts. 

Around each other. 

You no longer had to be so strong. 

No longer had to pretend. 

When you had laid yourself bare before him. Not even realising what that fracture in your resolution fully meant to Robby. What that break in your resolve meant for him to see. 

“I know what most people think, especially what the ED thinks about me. Like I’m sunshine and rainbows incarnate, and I know most of the other students and interns have nicknamed me Dr Daisy like it's a joke, for god’s sake Dana even calls me Angel!” You muttered out. “As if I’m perfect, but I’m not. And I know it’s ok to not be perfect. Impossible even.” 

What your words did to him. As they buried themselves deep inside his mind. Playing over and over again. 

“There is more to life than waiting for it to end Michael.” 

Those words echoing in his mind for weeks to come. 

All those times where you felt like kindred spirits. Now comes into focus. As you understand each other, in a way you had never known before. 

You had trusted him with your heart. 

As he had entrusted his own with you. 

The very foundations of your relationship. 

Was founded from your trust in one another. 

Perhaps that was why you had found it so easy to fall in love with him. Why you had fallen so quickly–so effortlessly. 

Despite any reservations. Any worries. Any creeping doubts. 

You had fallen in love with Michael. 

And had trusted him to keep your heart safe from heartache. Trusted that he would always be there for you, for little Jane, and for your baby on the way. 

Your family of three, turned into a family of four, before becoming a family of five. 

Cherished ever so dearly. 

And at its very heart. 

There was trust. 

Trust that you and Michael would be in this together. Would be there for each other. Through the challenges that life would throw your way. Trust that you would be your truest selves around each other. 

…

“That’s a nice bracelet, though I didn’t think flowers were your forte?” Garcia had commented with an arch of her brow, catching a glimpse of his woven bracelets that were revealed as he peeled his gloves off. 

His eyes followed her line of sight, as a small smile crawled upon his face. 

Upon his wrist were four delicately woven bracelets, varying shades of blues and greens all delicately tied together. And upon each one, a little charm hooked into each. 

Nothing overly eye-catching, nothing too distracting. 

Just simply there. 

He twists his wrist, the little metallic charms shine as it catches the light from above, “Can’t judge a book by its cover,” he shrugs, already starting to move onto the next task. 

Garcia only huffed a laugh. 

Cracking a grin, “It seems Dr Daisy is rubbing off on you.”

Dana comments from the hub, eyes peering over, “You should see him when she comes down–he becomes a doting mess”

“Dana–” Robby scolds lightly, brows knitting together. 

“It’s true,” she retorts, “You follow her around like bees to a flower”

Garcia’s shoulders begin to shake with barely contained laughter.

It was no secret to anyone in the ER. 

That their very own Dr Robby was well and truly head over heels for the cheery Dr Daisy from pediatrics. 

And, frankly, it was adorable.

Not that Robby would ever admit that.

The man could handle a crashing trauma patient without so much as blinking, could stare down an unruly patient twice his size and somehow make them reconsider their life choices.

But let Dr Daisy walk through those doors?

Suddenly, he was smiling.

Suddenly, his shoulders loosened.

Suddenly, he had somehow found himself hovering nearby with an excuse to check in on pediatrics despite having absolutely no clinical reason to be there.

And everyone knew why.

Because their love story had started years ago.

With a little baby Jane Doe.

With a Fourth of July that had changed the course of several lives.

A love that had blossomed in the most unforeseen way.

A choice that had led you and Michael to fall in love with one another. 

And, somehow, along the way, had led both of you to fall hopelessly in love with the little girl who had first brought you together.

Garcia’s gaze lands back towards Robby as she stifles a laugh, “Well–I never thought I’d see you become so smitten”

“Has he told you what the flowers all mean?” Princess interrupts, 

“No,” Garcia’s voice raises ever so slightly. Pitching up in amusement as she looks at Robby expectantly. 

The bracelets themselves are not particularly impressive.

The twine has softened with age, the colours faded ever so slightly from the countless days spent beneath hospital lights and countless washes of his hands.

The knots aren’t perfect.

The weaving is uneven in places.

One of the bracelets is visibly tighter than the others.

And the charms themselves are tiny.

Easy to overlook.

A daisy.

A gardenia.

Lavender.

Chamomile.

Little flowers that mean absolutely nothing to most people.

But to him?

They mean everything.

And as his eyes trace each tiny charm, he can’t help but let his annoyance soften. 

Let it fade.

Replaced with warmth.

With fondness.

With something dangerously close to sentimentality.

Because the bracelets were lovingly crafted.

Made on a rainy afternoon when going outside wasn’t an option.

…

The rain had started sometime around lunchtime.

Not the gentle kind, either.

The sort that hammered against the windows hard enough to make the glass rattle, turning the backyard into a muddy mess and forcing the children inside.

You had looked out the window.

Then at Jane.

Then at Noah.

Then at little Daisy sitting happily in her high chair, completely unconcerned with the weather.

“Well,” you sighed dramatically, “I suppose we’re trapped.”

Jane’s head snapped around, “Trapped?”

“Absolutely,” you affirmed. 

“Forever?” She pressed further. 

You pressed a hand to your chest, “I'm afraid so.”

Jane gasped.

Noah immediately looked concerned.

And you had to bite back a laugh, “Until the rain stops, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” Jane seemed considerably less distressed by that.

And, apparently, being trapped inside required an emergency activity.

So you had pulled out a couple of boxes from the cupboard.

String.

Twine.

Beads.

Little charms you had accumulated over the years. 

Anything you could find that would keep three children occupied for more than five consecutive minutes. Things you found that were handy to have when working in the pediatric department. 

It worked.

Mostly.

Jane was so thrilled at the idea, her little tongue poking out as her brows knitted in concentration, little fingers working diligently to make the perfect bracelet for her Dad. 

While Noah was doing his very best to braid the twine together. 

Taking his time while his big eyes repeatedly flickered between his hands and yours while you slowly explained how to loop one strand over another, “Like this?”

“Almost.”

“This?”

“Other way.”

His little face scrunched up, “Why is it so hard?”

You laughed softly, “Because you’re learning.”

Noah looked at you suspiciously.

You smiled innocently.

And then there was Daisy.

Your youngest.

Sitting in her high chair, kicking her little feet against the bottom as she watched everything happening around her.

Every now and then she would reach for the strings.

Or the charms.

Or, on one memorable occasion, Noah’s entire bracelet.

“No, no, no–Daisy,” you laughed, gently catching her hand before she could pull the entire thing apart.

She giggled.

You shook your head, “You are trouble.”

She smiled.

Completely unrepentant.

Eventually, you managed to gather enough materials to make something for her too.

One bracelet from you.

And one tiny bracelet you would make on Daisy’s behalf.

It was as you were threading the little beads that you noticed the flower charms.

Your fingers paused.

A tiny daisy.

You picked it up between your fingertips.

And something about it made you smile.

 A flower meaning hope. Joy. 

New beginnings. 

It seemed fitting.

More fitting than you would ever say aloud.

Because neither you nor Michael talked about that summer very often.

Not anymore.

Not because it didn't matter.

Because it mattered too much.

Had you not both opened up. Not let down your walls. 

Not allow yourselves to be vulnerable with each other. 

Had you not let the other person see all those parts you had spent years carefully hiding.

Your insecurities.

Your fears.

The things that hurt.

The things you were terrified would make the other person leave if they knew.

That summer could have ended very differently.

Michael could have walked away.

You could have pushed him away.

Your lives today could have been drastically different. 

So a daisy would be your perfect little charm to represent that. 

You reached for another.

A gardenia.

Trust.

Protection.

A flower for uncertain times.

Your thumb brushed gently over the tiny charm.

That one felt important too.

Because trust had been harder.

Trust had required more.

It had meant handing someone pieces of yourself and believing they wouldn't use them against you.

It had meant looking at Michael and believing, despite every instinct telling you otherwise, that he would stay.

You threaded the gardenia onto the bracelet.

And perhaps that was why you didn't notice Jane watching.

Until–

“What's that?”

You glanced over. Jane was staring at the charm.

“This?”

She nodded.

“A flower.”

“Can I have one?”

You smiled, “Of course.”

Jane immediately scooted closer.

Her little fingers began sorting through the charms with the seriousness of someone selecting a diamond for an engagement ring.

She rejected several.

Too big.

Too sparkly.

Wrong colour.

Until eventually–

“Lavender.”

“That’s a good choice, sweetie,” you smiled gently, helping her to attach it. 

She nods affirmatively, “Daddy always likes the lavender outside,” she refers to the bushes you have growing in the front yard. 

“That’s because it's calming,” you explain, your fingers intertwining with Daisy’s as she grasps at them. 

She raises a brow in question, tilting her head. 

“You know how Daddy and I work at the hospital”

“With Auntie Dana and Uncle Jack”

You nod, “Yes. Well sometimes at the hospital it can be very loud and chaotic–sort of like that moment in Tarzan when the gorillas make all that noise in the camp,” you try to explain. 

A thoughtful look crosses Jane’s face as she listens, “That part always makes Noah cover his ears,” she comments. 

“Right, that’s because it's very loud. But at the hospital Daddy and I can't cover our ears so sometimes that makes us a little unhappy–after a day at the hospital both Daddy and I sometimes need something to help us calm down. And for Daddy, smelling the lavender flowers helps him,” you say. 

Her eyes glance back down at the bracelet in her hands, now adorned with a little lavender charm, before looking back up at you. 

“Maybe this will help him stay calm at work.”

“Maybe–” you smile softly, warmed by her thoughtfulness, “I’m sure he’ll love it, because it's made by you.”

You feel a little tug on your clothes, your gaze is pulled towards Noah, “Can I put a flower on my bracelet for Dad?” 

“Sure you can,” your eyes soften. 

He picks out a  little charm resembling a daisy. 

“Nice choice–this one is also a calming flower known as chamomile”

 His lips widened into a smile. So sweet and innocent. 

That was how the afternoon carried on.

Smiling.

Laughing.

Helping little fingers thread beads and tie knots.

The bracelets weren't perfect.

But neither were they supposed to be.

They were made by little hands.

By children who loved their Dad so much they wanted to give him something he could carry with him.

Something that could remind him of home.

And eventually, just before eight that evening, the familiar sound of the front door opening echoes through the house.

Barely a minute passes before Jane is racing down the hallway, “Daddy!”

Michael barely has time to put his things down.

His arms open automatically.

Jane launches herself into them.

He catches her with an exhausted laugh, lifting her easily into his arms.

“Hi sweetheart,” eyes creased at their corners while his lips curved into a smile, “Have you been good for Mommy?”

The tiredness etched into his face is still there. The exhaustion in his shoulders. The long day lingering behind his eyes.

But then Jane wraps her arms around his neck.

And something changes.

His entire expression softens.

His lips curve into a smile.

Jane pulls back just enough to look him directly in the eye, nodding enthusiastically, “Of course!”

Michael snorts, “Of course?”

She nods enthusiastically, “Of course.”

“That's good,” He kisses her forehead, “What did you get up to today?” he asked, whilst walking through to the living room where you’re with Noah and Daisy. 

And that is the question that makes Jane’s entire face light up.Pure excitement bubbles from within her.

She wriggles until Michael has no choice but to put her down.

Then she's bounding towards the coffee table.

“Careful Janey,” he says softly, watching as she excitedly rushes over. 

Michael glances towards you.

You’re sitting with Noah and Daisy, watching the whole thing unfold. You offer him a helpless smile, “She’s been waiting all afternoon.”

“For what?”

Jane comes rushing back, And opens her hands, “I made this for you!”

Michael pauses.

His gaze drops.

A little bracelet.

Woven twine. Uneven in places. A tiny lavender charm hanging from it.

His expression softens, “That’s very cool.”

He crouches down, “Did you make this all by yourself?”

Jane pinches her fingers together, “Mommy helped a little bit.”

“A little bit?” You raise your brows.

Jane nods.

Michael looks at you.

You shrug, “I provided technical supervision.”

He huffs out a laugh, “Sure.”

He turns his attention back to Jane, “Well, you and Mommy did a great job.”

Noah immediately appears beside them.

And because apparently he has been waiting patiently for his own moment, he thrusts his bracelet forward, “For you!”

Michael’s smile grows, “Thank you, buddy.”

He takes it.

Then looks at both of them.

Something about the sight makes his chest ache.

Because they're so little.

Still so little.

And yet they're already making things for him.

Thinking about him when he's not there.

Trying to make his days easier.

He pulls them both into his arms.

A kiss lands on Jane’s head.

Then Noah's.

His voice has gone softer.

Smiling softly at them both, he takes the bracelets before wrapping them both into a hug, placing a kiss on both of their heads. 

“Thank you, they both look great,” he compliments, voice softening as he admires the little heartfelt gestures made by his kids. 

Before he could tuck them away, Jane insisted, “Aren’t you going to wear them?” while Noah nodded in agreement. Your soft laughter reached his ears, whilst you watched with amusement. 

Michael’s gaze dropped to the little bracelets, before holding his hand out, “Can you help me tie it?” 

She immediately begins working with the concentration of a surgeon.

Michael watches her.

And perhaps that is the moment.

The moment he realizes he'll never take them off.

Because he never could say no to his kids–especially when it came to Jane and her big round eyes that never failed to make his resolve melt. 

From that moment on, the bracelets you had made that day, never once came off his wrist. 

Not once.

…

And each time he glanced down at his wrist, at the little set of woven bracelets. He is reminded of the people he holds dearest to his heart. 

A flower for each of your kids. And a flower from you. 

A little token. A small gesture. 

A reminder of the family he cherishes. 

Of the love they have for him, and the love he has for them. 

“It’s just something my kids made for me,” Robby said. 

Garcia crossed her arms over her chest, with a small teasing grin, “Well aren’t you just a little softy–and here I thought Park was the biggest secret softy out there, turns out he might have some competition,” she laughed while Robby pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Don’t you have surgeries to attend to?” he asked dryly. 

She threw her hands up in mock defense, “Don’t think this is over, just cause I’m leaving,” she said whilst walking away.

And truthfully. 

Robby didn’t mind. 

He loved nothing more than to talk about his family. 

The one that had all begun, through an act of trust. 

…Dana leaned in a little as she murmured, “Now I distinctly remember Angel telling me you went a little misty eyed when she told you what the flowers all represented,” she teased. 

Robby snorted, before shooting her a look, “I know for a fact that you wear the bracelet that Jane made you” 

In Jane’s excitement since making Robby his bracelet. She had gone on to making Auntie Dana, Uncle Jack and plenty of other people little bracelets too. 

All of which, couldn’t say no to little Jane. The very sweet baby that was once found in the Pitt.  

Her mouth twists ever so slightly in vague defeat, before her gaze switches back to her work whilst she mutters, “You’ve got some pretty crafty kids Robinavitch”

He can’t help but laugh at her comment. 

That Summer, all those years ago, could’ve ended very differently. Could’ve led Michael down a very different path–a different road. 

Had it not been for you. 

For little Jane. 

Michael might not have been here at all. 

Might not have had the chance to have a family with you. 

Might not have had the chance to watch them grow, learn and become the funny little kids they are.

Might not have had the chance to love you. To spend every waking moment possible, reminding you that he loved you. 

Might not have learnt the true power in letting someone in. The power in letting down your walls. And finally not feeling alone. 

He might not have had a life with you. 

Had it not been for that moment when he turned his bike around, had shown up to your door ready to help. 

Because that was the thing about life.

Sometimes the biggest changes didn't come from grand gestures.

They came quietly.

Unexpectedly.

A door opening.

A hand reaching out.

A person deciding to stay.

Without that, Michael might not have known what true happiness felt like. 

What true unconditional love felt like…

And years later, as Michael stood beneath the fluorescent lights of the ER, his fingers absently brushing over the little woven bracelets on his wrist, he could still feel the weight of that choice.

Could still remember the life he might have had.

And the life he did.

The life he wouldn't trade for anything.

Because every little charm represented something.

A child.

A promise.

A memory.

A piece of you.

A piece of him.

A reminder that there had once been another road.

And he had chosen this one.

He had chosen you.

He had chosen Jane.

He had chosen the family that had grown from one impossible summer.

And every single day since–

He'd choose you all again.

…

By the time Michael’s shift finally ends, the ER has settled into that strange lull that never quite feels like peace.

Just quieter.

He finds you waiting near the doors, coat already on, bag slung over your shoulder.

Your eyes meet.

And immediately, some of the tension leaves his shoulders.

“Ready?” you ask.

“Always,” he smiles softly. 

You fall into step beside him as you make your way towards the exit, your shoulders brushing every few steps.

It isn't until you're halfway down the corridor that your fingers find his.

You slip your hand into his without thinking.

A familiar gesture.

One you've done a thousand times.

But then your thumb catches against something.

You glance down.

The bracelets.

Still there.

Faded and worn from years of being washed, tugged, slept in, worked in. Your fingers gently brush over the little charms.

The daisy.

The gardenia.

The lavender.

The chamomile.

Your thumb traces the tiny daisy. Then the gardenia. And your expression softens. Your heart warms by the sentiment behind each one. 

You look at him. Admiring his features beneath the moonlight sky. How despite the years, he only appears more handsome in your eyes. 

Your fingers curl around his wrist.

And Michael turns his hand, intertwining your fingers properly. 

“Come on,” he murmurs, “Let's go home.”

Home.

The word settles warmly between you.

You smile.

And together, hand in hand, you walk towards the doors.

Towards the car.

Towards Jane and Noah and Daisy.

Towards the house with lavender growing outside. Where beside it grows bushes of gardenia plants.

Towards the life neither of you could have imagined all those years ago.

And Michael looks down once more at the bracelets.

Then at you.

His smile softens.

Yeah, he thinks.

He'd choose this road every single time.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed my continuation of Paging Dr Daisy 🌼 In my mind I also picture that Robby gifted you a gardenia plant for your first anniversary. (Also while writing this I was very into Lewis Capaldi - I just love his music!!) I loved exploring this sweet little family once again! so wholesome (also the lil mention of Brendon being a secret softy could refer to pretty much any of my Brendon Park fics-I’m picturing Sugar & Spice or Hook, Line & Sinker). Let me know of what you thought of part 3, or even the story in general! ✨ Comments, Reblogs and Likes are welcomed and appreciated 💕 Feel free to find my Dr Robby x Wayne!Reader Rinse & Repeat Series Masterlist here 🩺 Or check out my main Masterlist here

It wasn’t necessarily what you were known to do…

Perhaps taking a few fights into your own hands. Turning to face the confrontation–when really you should’ve ran. 

Perhaps that was why you got along so well with the nightshift. 

Accustomed to a different sort of chaos. One that summered and bubbled in the quiet of the night, only to boil over in a split second. Dunked into the weirdest and wildest of situations. 

From those shifts that saw you and Parker trying to wrangle the drunks who insisted that they hadn’t had a single drop of alcohol…

Or that time where you and Shen had to calm down the man that had careened into the ER with a broken leg after trying to sneak into a concert–only to fall through the roof. You had to try your very best to stifle the laughter as he was covered head to toe in glitter. 

There were a few evenings–a lot of evenings. That saw you all in the midst of situations that would send any sane person’s heart rate soar. 

But the steady demeanours of Abbot and the nonchalant composure from Shen, helps balance the energy. 

Tempering the stress. 

Crus and his chill, assured energy. 

Parker’s reliability and sharp wit. Alongside Walsh’ quick thinking and confidence whenever she’d come down for a consult. 

Mateo’s lighthearted energy, whilst working efficiently. Lena’s warmth and caring nature. 

None of them took any bullshit. All of them were there for you whenever you needed them to be. 

All of them never failed to help you learn something new. All of them never failed to inspire you to be better. And all of them helped you feel supported in the crazy environment known as the Pitt. 

Despite the chaos the night would bring. 

They would remain calm and level headed…Perhaps not always with the healthiest of coping mechanisms. 

But to each their own. 

Then there were the quiet moments. 

The lulls in the night. 

Far and few between, there were moments of calm. 

And those moments saw the ‘weird and wild bunch’ to fall into strange conversations and debates to occupy their time. 

Just like tonight. 

You were still beaming from the news you had received early yesterday morning. Excitement bubbling within from the news that your friend Peter would be coming in a few weeks time. 

A smile upon your lips without much thought throughout your shift. 

Even after you spilled your coffee. Even after dealing with an asshole early onto the shift. Even after all the shit you had gone through so far. 

Nothing could rain on your parade. 

3:17 AM was peaceful for now. A short respite. And everyone was taking advantage of that. 

You had just poured yourself another cup of coffee, snacking on a few little cookies for a sugar hit. 

When you were drawn into a conversation. 

Shen and Parker were in the midst of a debate. One that had come about after seeing some news segment from New York. 

“Clealy Black Widow is the best,” Shen said whilst sipping on his 3rd iced coffee for the night, “She’d have to be to put up with all that bullshit” 

“Everyone on the Avenger’s team deals with the same bullshit?” Parker retorts. 

Shen shakes his head, “But she has to do that on top of dealing with the team–and you can’t tell me that they wouldn’t be a headache to be around” 

“And here I thought you would’ve picked Iron Man,” Parker comments, she snickers lightly before adding, “You know who Abbot would totally root for–”

“Captain America,” they say in sync. 

You laugh softly when you catch word of their conversation. Parker’s eyes darted to you, before dragging you into their conversation, “What about you L/N? Being from New York, surely you’ve got a favourite?” 

You purse your lips in thoughts, “I’m a little partial to Daredevil and Spiderman” 

Parker’s brow lifts in question, whilst Shen narrows his eyes slightly in intrigue. 

“Bias, how?” Parker probes. 

“Well I grew up in Daredevil’s territory–so it was always kind of nice knowing that someone was looking out for us,” you said, the memory of Matt popping up in your mind. 

“And Spiderman?” Shen asked. 

You shrug, “Well–he’s you know, the friendly neighbourhood Spiderman,” your words hold something more to it. 

Matoe slides into the conversation with a wiggle of his brows, “I have a feeling there’s more to this”

“No,” your voice raises ever so slightly, trying to find anything to take you away from the conversation. 

Parker’s mouth twists, eyes narrowing in on you, pointing a finger towards you in accusation, “See–your voice did that thing again where you’re clearly lying” 

Damn Parker and her acute observational skills.

“So don’t hold out on us now,” Mateo adds, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Well New York can be a bit of a small place you know–” you try to rationalise, their eyes peer at you expectantly, whilst you talk, “So he might’ve–I might’ve–”

“Might’ve what?” 

“Might’ve been saved by him…once or twice–”

“Seriously?”

“No way!” 

“Did he swing you around?” 

Their questions get thrown your way, curiosity getting the better of them. 

Mateo sighs, “This place must be a complete snore compared to NY, no swinging vigilantes here” 

“But that doesn’t mean this ER doesn’t keep me on my toes–” you add. 

And as if on cue. 

As if jinxed.

Abbot enters the conversation, a light sternness to his voice, “Parker, L/N, you’re with me–we’ve got an MVC, 3 minutes out”

You nod, already beginning to trail after him, when Parker asks, “So Abbot–who’s your favourite superhero?” 

For a moment he was quiet, as his brows knitted together. 

Before shrugging, “I guess if I’d have to pick it’d be Captain America”

As Parker passes Shen, they share a little high five, a small murmured, “Knew it,” whilst they grin. 

Abbot raises a brow towards you, while you shake your head, “You don’t wanna know”

He chuckles softly, while you all get back into work. 

…

Weeks go by. 

While you’ve been busy preparing the apartment. 

Trying your best to clear out your extra clothes that you had stored in the spare room. 

Trying to make room for Peter. Doing your best to make it comfortable. 

Shifting and shuffling furniture in the spare room, with the help of Dennis. 

There were many times that he’d find you in the spare room scrambling to try and assemble furniture you had gotten from IKEA. While Dennis stepped in to help you–despite his growing dislike for the man he had yet to meet. 

As the date drew closer, packages and deliveries would show up more and more frequently. Clothes, books and an assortment of other items would arrive. All stamped with the same return address and the same name. 

Peter Parker. 

Packages containing things he’d need during his stay with you. All in preparation for the Summer. 

Dennis couldn’t help but notice how you’d open each delivery with care, how you’d set it out in the spare room with careful consideration and thought. 

Despite knowing that was how you were–Despite knowing that you were considerate and meticulous by nature…

Dennis couldn’t help but overthink each action. 

And with each reminder of Peter. 

A discomfort grew in the pit of Dennis’ stomach at the thought of you putting so much care and thought into your friend simply staying for only 3 months. 

It was a fair assumption to say that Dennis was jealous…

But in those quiet moments. 

Those typical moments. 

When you’d both settle in to watch a movie or tv show together. Those moments where you’d fall asleep on his shoulder. 

Those moments where you’d join him on his visits to Amy’s farm. 

Those ordinary moments where you and Dennis would simply be in each other's company. 

The easy way you both seemed to get along. 

In those moments he could almost envision what a life spent with you would be like. 

For those moments–he could almost forget that the dynamic might change. 

Could almost forget that in just a few days…

Your best friend would be coming to stay. 

And Dennis hated how that thought managed to bring out the ugliness of his own thoughts–bring out the self doubt and worry…

Especially because it was over a person he had yet to meet. 

Without meaning to Dennis had grown to dislike Peter. 

Something that Trinity knew all too well whenever he would rant about it with her. The disgruntled energy only grew more and more as the date of Peter’s arrival drew closer. 

…

And then there was Peter. 

Now only days away from seeing you. 

He was in the midst of finalising his own preparations. 

Finishing his packing. 

“Dude, you’ll only be gone for like a few weeks–you don’t need to pack your whole apartment,” Ned says while gesturing around the room. 

“3 months Ned, I’ll be gone for 3 months,” Peter replied flatly, with an arched brow. 

Ned only waved him off, before asking, “And you really couldn’t find an internship here? What happened to Stark Industries?”

Peter remains silent. Biting his lip, trying to busy himself. 

Pretending he couldn’t hear Ned’s valid question. 

“...”

After a moment. 

Ned’s eyes narrow in on Peter, before gasping, “You picked one there on purpose!” 

Peter’s head shoots up with a shake of his head, “No! I don’t know–maybe–yes–no!, ughh” he drops his head in his hands with a groan. Eyes scrunched tightly, mind whirring. 

“You’ve got it bad dude,” Ned’s arms crossed over his chest, leaning back into his chair, “It’s been years–I thought you were over your crush on N/N?–especially after what happened on the Europe trip back in High School” 

Peter sighs, plopping onto his bed. Clothes strewn around him, in a mess of trying to figure out what to bring. 

“All I know is that the last few months hasn’t been the same without her”

“Really?” Ned questions, “Don’t you guys talk all the time?” 

“We did at the start, but you know she’s busy and I’m busy–with study,” Peter rambles on. 

Ned nods in understanding, before mimicking a little web shooting, “Oh yeah, and the thwip thwip” 

“Yeah, that,” Peter agrees. 

Ned tilts his head, “So what do you think is going to happen on this trip?”

“I don’t know,” Peter shrugs.

“What do you want to happen?” Ned probes a little further, leaning in slightly. 

Peter’s mouth twists in thought….What did he want?

He knew you were studying. He knew you were just beginning your residency…He knew you couldn’t just up and leave it–not without good reason…

And Peter…

He had no idea what would come from a long distance relationship–had no idea what would be in store for you both if you were to end up together. Not sure what a life like that would even look like.

All he knew was that he liked, loved you for as long as he could remember. And that those feelings had yet to fade. 

His mouth twists. 

A sourness settling into his thoughts. As he remembers just a tiny detail. A small fact you had mentioned…

“Peter,” Ned clicks his fingers, snapping him out of his daze, before huffing, “I still can’t believe you haven’t told her how you feel.”

“I’ve been a little busy–” Peter said defensively, moving to continue packing. 

Ned rolls his eyes, before replying, “Yes I know–between study and swinging you’ve been busy. But if being with Betty had taught me anything, it's that it's important to pick your summer loves carefully. And Y/N is not just someone to have as a simple summer fling–Especially because you’ve liked her for so long”

Peter groans in despair. Pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Was there anything you know? There, between you both?” Ned continues to ask. 

“…It felt like it but maybe that was just wishful thinking,” Peter sighs, his lips shifting into a frown” 

Ned clicks his tongue, “Damn man–I thought you told her before she left.”

“I couldn’t–She was chasing after her dream,” Peter sighed, before adding in quiet defeat, “And I didn't want to get in the way of that.”

“And now?” Ned lifted a brow.

“Now–Now I wish I told her just so that she knew…” Peter confessed, before his frown settled in deeper, “Did I mention she has a roommate?” 

“And?” Ned asks, unaware of the problem. 

Peter’s shoulders drop, eyes settled onto his open suitcase, “And he works with her, and I’m sure they’ve become good friends–”

Ned’s mouth forms in an oh in realisation, “Oh he’s a he”

“Yeah…”

“So this roommate of hers? What do you know?” Ned pulls open his laptop, ready and waiting to do some digging on his best friend’s behalf. 

As the hours pass, Peter flits around his room to continue packing, to let out his pent up energy. 

While Ned scavenges the internet for all he can about a certain Dennis Whitaker. 

“He’s from Broken Bow, Nebraska–so he’s a country boy–Oh he grew up on a farm”

“First in his family to go to college”

“Works at PTMC in the ER” 

Ned does his absolute best to find all he could about this mysterious roommate. 

And that is how Aunt May finds these two, with pizza boxes in hands, her brows raised as she looks at them both in confusion. 

Hunched over a laptop…stalking a random guy. 

…Totally normal.

“What are you boys doing?” She looks at them confusedly. 

Peter sits up frantically in a panic, “May! Uh–what are you doing here?” he laughs nervously. 

Her eyes narrow in on him, before sighing, placing the pizza boxes down on the desk, “Peter, I thought we talked about this–it’s normal to explore sexual–”

He shakes his head rapidly, waving his arms, “That’s not–that’s not what this is!” 

Ned agrees a little more calmly with a nod of his head. 

Her brows knit together, hand propped on her hip, “Ok–then what is it?” 

Peter’s mouth opens and shut–unsure of what to say. 

Until Ned simply breaks the ice. 

“Peter doesn’t know if he should tell Y/N if he likes her or not–and she has a roommate,” he twists the laptop around to show May, “This guy” 

She leans in, observing the picture for a moment, eyes flickering up to glance at her nephew. Lips pursed into a thin line. 

Leaning back she shrugs, “You’ll never know unless you tell her” 

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Ned agrees. 

Peter remarks, “I thought you said I should be over it”

Ned holds up a finger, “No, I said that Y/N is not a Summer fling sort of woman. Not like what Betty and I had, yes it was special and memorable, but– N/N deserves something real. You gotta commit to it, if you want it”

May smiles in agreement. 

Peter sighs, “You’ve been watching too many rom-coms”

“Sue me–it’s a great palate cleanser,” Ned shrugs. 

May places a hand on Peter’s shoulder a small squeeze in sympathy, “Don’t worry–I’m sure you’ll work it out when you’re there”

He nods, softly, his eyes shifting to land on his closet once more. 

“Ok–I just wanted to check on you both, and make sure you both ate,” May said, getting ready to leave. 

Peter turns to hug her, a muffled response, “Thanks Aunt May”

She nods with a smile, stepping back, before leaving the room. 

Then Peter’s eyes dart back to his closet, tugging his Spidersuit from its depths. He sighs as he holds it before him. 

He hesitates for a moment–unsure of whether to bring it or not. 

“What if there’s crime there?” Peter asks aloud. 

Ned nods, “Yeah–Cause Spiderman’s known to be in Pittsburgh” 

“Shut up,” Peter shakes his head, before he walks over to place his suit and web shooters, tucking it away into his bag. 

Ned simply shrugs, raising his hands in defense, “That’s cool–you know, become the friendly neighbourhood Spiderman of Pittsburgh,” before his eyes sparkle as he adds, “Ohh, maybe you can swing through the city with Y/N–she used to love doing that”

Peter’s lips soften into a smile at the memory. 

Those moments of swinging through the city, the sound of your laughter, the brightness of your smile. The way you’d cling to him, and squeal in excitement as it felt like flying through the air. 

Those were the memories Peter held close to his heart. 

“Yeah…” Peter said softly. 

He only hoped that your life in Pittsburgh wouldn’t change the relationship you and Peter had sustained through all these years…

The only change he was hoping for–being that you might love him in return…

… 

With Peter being only a few days away from arrival. 

The spare room, now all ready and waiting for him. 

You were practically brimming with excitement. 

Counting down the hours until he’d arrive. 

As your excitement grew. 

Dennis’ dread morphed into a bigger problem for himself. Plastering a fake smile each time you brought Peter up. Doing his best to conceal his growing dislike. 

Now with only 2 days to go. 

It was obvious to most of your colleagues. Especially as the date grew closer. 

In the midst of shift change, as handovers are made, the day shifters filter in while the night shifters get ready to leave. 

Mateo elbows your side, whilst you go over some notes. 

A wide smile plastered across your face–even humming a little happy tune. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile so much–” Mateo commented, with a raise of his brows, before jokingly commenting, “If you don’t dial it down, some of the patients might think you’ve escaped from the psych ward”

“Sorry, sorry,” you shake your head, but even then the smile doesn’t dim, “I’m just–My friend’s coming in a few days to stay over the Summer and I haven’t seen him since I left New York, so I’m a little excited”

Parker waltzes into the conversation, “And here I thought that the sleep deprivation was finally getting to you–”

“That’s not too far off,” You laughed at her words. 

“So who’s this friend?” Princess pries. 

You answer vaguely, “Just an old friend from school” 

Princess’ brows raise, wanting to pry a little further. 

Before you can indulge in her curiosity, Abbot pulls you onto a case, despite Robby’s insistence that the dayshift can handle it, Abbot only waves his friend off–insisting that it's still just before 7 AM, “Night shift territory,” he had jokingly commented. 

You fall into a steady rhythm falling in sync with your attending. 

Moving fluidly and with precision. 

Smile dampening only slightly, as it shifts into one of concentration. 

And just as you toss your gloves into the bin, wiping your hands with sanitizer. Jack elbows your side, with a raised brow as he jabs a finger towards the hub, “I think there’s someone here for you kid” 

And if Mateo, Princess and Parker thought your smile couldn’t be any wider–they’d be wrong. 

Peter stands by the desk, he shuffles as he waves a little awkwardly. 

Your eyes practically light up. 

Feet moving quickly, as Peter shifts to meet you halfway. 

A laugh bubbles out of you, as your arms wrap him in a tight hug, whilst he practically lifts  you up into the air. A look of pride upon his face, from seeing you in scrubs. 

Having caught a glimpse of you working so diligently just before. 

He was just so proud of you. 

So proud to see you actively chasing after your dream. 

Actively making them come true. 

He remembered back in high school when it was all simply hypothetical. Simply an idea you longed to come true. And now you were truly making it happen. 

Succeeding despite the pressure. 

He was so proud of you. And that pride seeped into his gaze whilst he looked up at you. 

You’re put back down on the ground, while you lightly punch him, “Oh my God, I thought you weren’t meant to be here until Thursday!” 

He shrugged, offering you a lopsided smile, “I wanted to surprise you” 

You laugh softly with a shake of your head, “Well–consider me surprised,” your eyes flicker up to settle on his hair. 

The brown strands, a tangled mess. 

And just out of habit–you reach up, fingers gently combing through his hair to try and fix it slightly, to tame the unruly strands. Just as you had done a thousand times before, after he’d slip out to save the city only to come back with very messy hair. 

“What’d you do this time–Walk into a tree?” you teased softly. A slight tenderness to your movements. 

And from across the room, Dennis’ gaze settles onto you. Eyes narrowing slightly. A frown settling onto his lips. 

“That’s so cute,” Victoria comments mindlessly, before clasping a hand to her mouth muttering out a soft, “Sorry,” as she looks at Dennis. 

Her words only further sink him into despair. 

As your hands pull back from his hair, your little bubble is quickly burst while your friends and colleagues circle you. 

Probing for information, all clambering over to meet the new guy. 

Your mysterious friend. 

“This is my friend Peter”

And in a second, he’s swarmed by your colleagues, Mateo, Princess and Perlah were quick to hone in on him, all greeting him, their motives made unaware to you, while you’re pushed aside slightly. 

Parker leans down slightly, elbowing you softly cracking a teasing grin, “He cute”

You simply fluster from her words, shaking your head, “Don’t know what you’re talking about” 

You duck away from her while you shuffle back closer to Peter. 

You grasp his arm, swatting them away, as you pull him beside you, “So Parker–meet Parker,” you grin. 

Parker’s arms cross over, as she looks him up and down, “And here I thought I was the only Parker in your life,” she jokes dryly. 

Peter sticks a hand out to her, “Call me Peter–nice to meet you”

His hand stays there for a moment. 

Before she grasps onto it with a firm shake, her steely gaze melts into a smile. 

“This is Shen, Crus, our very fabulous charge nurse Lena, as well as Dana, you just met Mateo, and this is–” you wave Jack over, “And this is Abbot, the very cool, badass attending I’ve told you about”

Jack arches a brow, looking at you, “You’re just trying to gain some brownie points”

“Maybe…” you smile cheekily. 

His eyes narrow, before shaking his head with a chuckle, “You’re lucky that works”

Grinning up at him, you continue to drag Peter to meet the other people you work alongside briefly, allowing Peter to place names to faces from the many stories you had shared with him. 

From Samira, to Mel, Cassie and Victoria, to having him meet Robby, Jesse and Donnie. And so many others. 

Before you come to a stop before Trinity and Dennis. 

“Ok Peter, this is Dennis and Trinity,” you gesture to them respectively. 

Peter smiles enthusiastically, a slight flicker–just a minute shift in his demeanour at the name Dennis…

So this was your roommate.

This was Peter’s roommate for the Summer…

He shakes Dennis’ hand. And whether it was imagined or not. Both of them feel a sense of tension between them both. Murmuring like a live wire in the background. 

Trinity’s arms cross over, her head tilts examining him, her energy remains a little standoffish. 

“So you’re Drowsy’s friend from New York?” 

Her tone makes Peter falter ever so slightly. 

His hand drops to his side, after he realises she won’t shake his hand. His gaze turns to you, in question, “Drowsy?” 

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, “It’s sort of stuck since I met Trinity in the hallway–She’s also my neighbour, so you’ll probably see her come into our apartment whether we like it or not,” you say a little pointedly. 

She snorts, before remarking, “I know you don’t mind,” her gaze turns back to Peter, before relenting and shaking his hand, she justified, “Only cause you’re a friend of Drowsy’s” 

“I really wish you’d stop calling me that,” you sighed. 

“Never,” she grinned with amusement in her eyes. The memory of you and her bumping into each other in the hallway comes to mind. 

When you simply couldn’t stop yawning, after having spent an all nighter unpacking, setting up your apartment whilst watching a movie marathon. 

Ever since then, the simple nickname Drowsy has stuck to you like glue. Following you from your apartment and well into the workplace, especially when Trinity had realised you also were working in PTMC’s ER. 

“So you’re here for an internship?” Dennis asks politely. Doing the best he can to sustain the smile on his face. 

Peter nods, “Yeah, there’s a researcher here doing some amazing studies into genetics and the impacts of radiation–”

You pat his back, “Ok–ok, we get it you’re smart,” you gently tease. 

His cheeks brighten, a heat crawling up his neck, before he stammers out in defense, scratching the back of his neck, “Not really–It’s you guys who’re really smart, the way you worked just before, it’s so impressive–I wouldn’t even know where to start,” he flattered you all. 

Despite you knowing full well that Peter could be very resourceful at times. 

You catch sight of the ER around you buzzing, and growing busier with each passing minute. 

Glancing at your watch, you note that your shift was well and truly over. 

“We should probably get going–let you guys get back to it, before I’m dragged into some unwanted overtime,” you say. 

While Peter nods in agreement. Trinity, already moving to pull Dennis away and get stuck into work. 

But his feet remain stuck, eyes trained onto you and Peter, unable to turn his gaze away. 

“I was thinking we could get some breakfast–or dinner in your case,” he suggests. 

You smile with a nod, “Sounds good”

An uncomfortable twist growing in the pit of Dennis’ stomach.

Disappearing for just a flickering second when you turn back to meet his gaze–a small wave, a flash of a smile, “See you later, Dennis” 

Your heart raced as Peter’s arm linked with yours, but as you turned back to wave goodbye to Dennis, your heart skipped a beat. 

Fucking hell–your mind freezes. 

Caught off guard by the way that just a glimpse of Dennis’ smile had made you feel…

Eyes darting back to meet Peter’s trying to shake away your thoughts–struggling to do so. 

As it spirals further into a state of confusion. 

…What the fuck was all that about?…

Just as you leave their view, ducking around the corner to grab your things from your locker, Trinity can’t help but give Dennis a sympathetic pat on the back. 

And across the room. 

Princess and Perlah share a look watching as you leave the ER arm linked with Peter. Eyes darting over to watch Dennis practically deflate.  

They murmur in Tagalog. 

“This might change a few bets…”

“You’re telling me–I had my money that Dennis would confess this week,” Princess groaned in dissatisfaction, “I had no idea he’d have competition!”

…

While you’re walking out of the ER. 

Your arm is still linked with Peter's, a bright grin still firmly planted on your face, whilst he holds your bag slung over his shoulder. 

He laughs softly. 

“Oh–” you raise your brows, “And what’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking about what you said a while ago,” he began. 

“And that was?..” you probe him to continue. 

“That your Attending Jack definitely has a similar energy to Frank”

You and he fall into a small round of laughter. 

Then your brows knit together in confusion, “Hang on–if you just came off the flight, where’s your bags?” 

He offers a sheepish grin, “I might’ve swung by your apartment…and slipped in through the window…” 

“Of course you did” 

You can’t help but smile at his antics. 

You had missed this. 

Had missed your best friend. 

And yet–

Your thoughts couldn’t help but be torn between Peter…and Dennis. 

Stranding you in the midst of a confusing train of thoughts. One you had never once considered before.

You had never noticed these feelings before–

Had never acknowledged the possibility of there being something there between you and Dennis. 

Had failed to acknowledge that there was still the possibility of something there between you and Peter….

This was going to be an interesting Summer…

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this part! Peter Parker has come to town and he's here for the Summer!! (Whether Dennis likes it or not). I loved exploring a little more of the dynamics of the night shift. As well as including Ned (He's just so funny, and I totally picture him having such sage advice for Peter) - tbh I'm picturing all of this take maybe 4-5 years post high school graduation, Peter's likely studying for his Masters or smth, just so it aligns with you being a med student/intern at the same level as Dennis (I'm not going too far into the nitty gritty details of it all) And having Peter's arrival totally throw the secret betting board regarding your love life out of whack. While Jack might not break all the rules in the name of justice, he can definitely bend them just a lil bit (just like the abortion situation in s1) so in my eyes he could potentially align with Frank Castle's sort of vibe...just a little -also sidetone, I definitely picture you being able to stand up to assholes during your shift, fuelled by the confidence of your peers and your history growing up in Hell's Kitchen. Let me know what you thought or if you'd like to be added to the taglist✨

Ok! the next part is going to delve into roommate life between Peter, Dennis and you...Dennis also learns a little more about Peter...A little more than he bargained for...

Read the Part 4: Something Strange here!

Comments, Reblogs and Likes are welcomed and appreciated 💕 If you enjoyed, consider checking out my Dennis Whitaker x Former Army Medic!ReaderTread Lightly Series Or check out my Dennis Whitaker Masterlist here

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The look on Trinity's face as she meets Peter for the first time, and the absolute despair in Dennis' eyes