#older!peter

The snow had been falling constantly for the past two days, locking you up in the small apartment and forcing them to cancel on the plans they had made with a couple of friends. The light coming from the windows was dim but blindingly white, almost blue, an evident result of the blanket of fresh snow that spread in front of the building. Small icicles were starting to form on the windows and you had watched the snowflakes dancing their way down on the floor with more attention than you probably should have. Outside, the temperature was pretty low but inside, the warmth was comfortable, thanks to the fire Peter had been working on in the old fireplace.

You had spent your first day separate, but still together, each at your own task whether it was watching series on Netflix, reading a book, cooking or taking a hot bath. No need to get outside, Peter didn’t have much work to do during the handful of days that led to Christmas but he still had gone out the evening before, slipping through the window that overlooked the fire escape, before he realized it was way too cold and every surface he usually stuck on was now slippery with frost. New York could survive without him for a couple of days. There was no way any undesired event would crash the festivities and even if it happened, he would be ready, as always. You, on the other hand, were appreciating a much-deserved break from work.

But on the second day, pacing the floor of the apartment like a lunatic, ended up with Peter crashing on the sofa, whining that he was bored. So you now were both snuggled up underneath a thick throw blanket; you, lying on top of him and him, his arms tight around your waist, his chin resting on the top of your skull.

 “There’s only one blanket”, he had pouted, a few hours ago. “I think we’ll have to squeeze together.”

“As if that was bothering you”, you have rolled your eyes up, before tiptoeing your way up to steal a kiss.

 Shadows were waltzing underneath his eyes, his long eyelashes resting almost on top of his cheeks casting dark tracks with the way the flames in the fireplace were flickering around. Peter was always comfortably warm, but the wood burning and the blanket he had laid on your bodies made it even more delicious to bask in, especially when you saw the state of the streets beneath your eighth-floor apartment. His breathing was calmer than usual and with the way you were lying, all you could see was the tip of his nose, which might have been the most adorable thing you’ve seen, ever. Sometimes, he would mumble a few gibberish words that you wouldn’t understand at all, some whispers that you wouldn’t necessarily care about, as long as you could hear them. Understanding them seemed too much efforts. Peter had been pretty much asleep for most of the afternoon, anyway, but hearing them meant he was here, with you, on the Christmas’ Eve day. Everyone deserved Love during the holidays but you couldn’t help thinking that maybe you two deserved a little bit more. You two had had it rough this year, you realized. You knew what you were getting into when you moved in together, but you lost count of the number of times you held your breath when you saw him walk through the front door, covered in bruises, cuts, limping and on verge of tears. You had cried your fair share of tears watching the news broadcasting the umpteenth battle he had thrown himself into. You deserved to have him against you, safe and sound, for Christmas. This had been your Christmas wish and it had been made real, thanks to the snowfall. You had thanked every God you knew (which turned out to be more than you initially thought back when you were little, but an impromptu meeting with the God of Thunder had made you look at things in a new found perspective) when you had opened the curtains in the living room, discovering the snow-covered trees on each side of your street, in the middle of Queens.

At some point, you felt Peter’s nose tracing circles on your scalp, relaxing you more than you could ever imagine. It felt like your entire body was sweating of the stress you had felt ever since last January. In his sleep, he tightened his hold on you and you hummed your approval, rubbing your cheek on the soft sweatshirt he had chose to slip into that morning, enjoying his smell, which, for once, wasn’t tainted by rubbing alcohol. His natural scent was intoxicating and without very much realizing it, your head had rolled a bit further on his shoulder, so your nose could slip in the crook of his neck, as he pulled the blanket back up, after it slipped from your shoulders. Your tangled legs settled in between his and all four of your feet, covered by thick socks, were rubbing against each other every time one of you would move an inch. Just like the early days, your bodies felt like perfect matching puzzle pieces, that finally got to find their other part after years of laying at the bottom of the box. For a second, you envisioned another catastrophe happening to New York. If the building was to crumble down on you both, at least you’d die happy in his arms and that’s all you could ever hope for.

 You knew yourself to be strong and independent. You knew you were determined and not easily scared, but as you laid there in Peter’s arms, his fingers slipping in your newly bright red hair, you felt more delicate than ever, afraid to move and break yourself. You smiled a little, feeling him drop a kiss in his hair, taking a huge breath and appreciating the smell of your shampoo, smiling in your very red hair. You could only imagine what he was thinking about. A few days, he came back home to red droplets all over the floor of the apartment. He was just back from a patrol and he felt his heart physically shatter at his feet, imagining the worst. The gory scene he found in the bathroom almost made him cry: there were huge red streaks at the bottom of the bathtub, where the water supposed to clean everything had forgotten to erase what happened completely. His voice had broken down in his throat when he had called your name in a frenzy, already sure you were hurt or worse. But he had found you back in your shared bedroom, your hair bright red like his suit, in an old shirt of his with holes everywhere that you had found in his drawers. You had grinned at him, first, but you eventually saw his face, you had instantly worried. He had rubbed his teary eyes and laughed his anxiety away pretty quickly, the nerves turning into certain relief. He loved the color. He nerded out on the fact that you now looked like an anime character that you never heard of but that he apparently loved.

 Peter’s lips found their ways to your forehead and they stayed there, barely touching your skin. It was so rare to have some time to spend with you that he wanted to fully enjoy it. With a bit of luck, New York would stay quiet until the 26th and he could truly celebrate Christmas. It would be his first since a long time, your first with him not being called on duty. He really wanted it. You really wanted it too. You had a pretty special gift for him, something you hadn’t really planned on getting him but you were ecstatic to give him. You twisted a little bit underneath the blanket, sliding your whole body upward to kiss him on the forehead too, just like he had done. It made him laugh and it made you smile. You loved hearing him giggle. You hadn’t heard that sound an awful lot, these past few months.. The last time was back in June, when after a tough patrol and a couple of nights watching people get hurt, Peter realized that he didn’t want to spend another day without making sure you were his and he was yours. He dropped on his bruised knee in the middle of Central Park, with a ring he had bought from a pawn shop because it was pretty much all he could afford. He hadn’t thought much about it. He just wanted to make sure you both knew you belonged to each other. It had made the trick. You never got the ring off, even in the shower. You slept with it. You loved the tiny rock on it, even though it wasn’t a diamond, even though it was green and not white. You loved the ring and you loved him and you loved your life together.

 “You never have enough”, he smiled, sliding his arms to rest around your shoulders.

“You’re never here, I’d like to enjoy it while you’re mine and only mine”, you sighed.

 You never asked Peter to drop the patrols or the missions. You knew this was his thing, to protect the city, and you knew his work was necessary. But sometimes, you caught yourself hoping that he would hang the suit up for good, someday. Sometimes, you wished you had met another Peter, from another dimension, one who didn’t have to tumble his way down the fire escape in the middle of dinner or one who didn’t come home hurt and devastated. A Peter you didn’t have to patch up, needle and thread in hand, in the middle of the kitchen, at two a.m. A Peter you didn’t have to hold back together after a particularly difficult mission. A Peter you didn’t have to watch on the news.

A Peter you didn’t have to share with the rest of New York.

 But your Peter was unique and you wouldn’t have traded him for the world. You loved the little scar underneath his chin. You learned to appreciate the red streaks on his skin, that hadn’t healed completely yet. You knew the little white patch on his shoulder and how he got it, which left you a complete mess thinking that somebody had done that to him but also that he had willingly thrown himself in the way. You had let your fingertips trace the bruises on his skin that hadn’t gone away yet. All of that made you recognize the person you were holding now; your little treasure.

 So while you had him with you, you would enjoy every second and keep on dreaming of a world where finally, your fiancé wouldn’t have to apologize every time he would have to slip out through the window, leaving you with a tight heart and alone, in front of a plate that would turn cold without him.

 “Are you cold?” he whispered, when he felt you tremble just the slightest bit. Damn his super senses.

“I’m not”, you assured.

“What is it, then?”

 The frown on his forehead was adorable, but you found yourself smoothing it with the tip of your index, rubbing it away, like you would clean a spot on a table.

 “I’m okay, don’t worry”, you smiled.

“You know you can tell me everything, right?”

“Peter, we’ve been together for almost six years now. I think if I wasn’t sure I could come to you with anything, I wouldn’t have agreed to marry you”, you snorted.

“Then what is it?”

“Okay”, you sighed. “Don’t freak out, okay?”

 Peter swallowed the lump in his throat. But he knew that he could trust you. And to hear you say “marry you” left him lost in his feelings. He might have super senses, but you knew him pretty well too.

Without a word, you took his fingers between yours, dragging them from your shoulders to your chest, then your stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps on their path. When you found the hem of his sweatshirt that you had “borrowed” from his stack of clothing littered all across the bedroom floor, you sneaked your entwined hands on your skin and left his hand there, slipping his fingers out of your grasp. The naughty smirk he had come to hang on his lips turned into a confused pout, which left you more amused than stressed. You hadn’t really imagined to tell him now, but you suddenly felt like it was the right time and the right place. You didn’t need anything else.

 “It’s all yours”, you breathed out, back to your hiding spot in his neck.

“I know you’re all mine, baby”, he frowned.

“I’m not talking about that baby, Pete.”

 For a smart guy, it took him quite a while to figure out. But to watch the realization paint on his face reassured you in the fact that it was the best way to break the news. You found out a couple of weeks ago, when you counted on your fingers and came to the conclusion that you were late. The fact that you found yourself alone for several nights in a row persuaded you to take a test. The result had been written out clearly and without any opportunity to mistake this.

 “Please say something”, you begged him, sitting up on his hips after several minutes of him looking at you with a completely gape mouth, looking more like a fish than your fiancé.

 The smile that came to his face was enough, when he finally wrapped his mind around it. You watched his eyes fill up with happy tears and enough love to conquer the world. Your little superhero sure looked pretty small, drowning in that blanket, his hand still resting on the warm skin of your stomach. Was there really any word he could have said to match the pure emotion you could see on his face?

 “I’ll protect you both with my life”, he finally vowed. “I’ll make their world a safe space for the little one. I promise you won’t have to worry about him, or her, Y/N.”

“Babe.. This is something we both have to work on. You’re not on your own for this mission. I’ll be your partner on this one.”

“I can’t wait, then”, he grinned.

 And after seeing walk out so many times, you were excited to say that neither could you.

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