#peter fic

His kisses send shivers down your spine and his ragged breathing against your neck gives you goosebumps. In fact, you could lie here all day long and just enjoy each and every single one of his tender touches, be it with his hands or his lips.

Unfortunately, you are not allowed to enjoy this moment much longer because Peter suddenly jumps up in surprise, his spider senses apparently striking, leaving you baffled.

"Oh shit."

You can't read the look on his face to get an idea of what's happening, but you don't have to because you can clearly hear the door to the apartment unlocking and opening in the next moment, his aunt coming in.

"Peter? I'm back!"

You look at each other in silence for a few seconds, your eyes wide, holding your breath. Then, all of a sudden, you free yourself from each other's grip, Peter almost tumbling off the bed in an attempt to stand up as silently as possible.

"What is your aunt doing here?! You said she wouldn't be back until this evening!", you hiss at him under your breath, getting up from his bed while pulling down your shirt, which has ridden up due to your rough make-out session.

"She shouldn't be back already!", Peter whisper-yells back, looking around his room, desperately searching for help. There really aren't many places for you to hide here. His closet is full of piles of clothes and his room is over all pretty cluttered. Not that it usually bothers you, but it is pretty inconvenient right now.

Because his aunt doesn't know about the two of you and you don't intend on her to find out. Especially not like this.

Once she knows, your father will know, and that is going to be a problem.

"Peter? Are you here?", May calls out through the apartment and when you hear footsteps approaching, Peter gently grabs your arms and frantically helps you hide under his bed. May opens the door just as Peter quickly drapes the blanket over the edge of the bed so that you are hidden. Quickly, you hold your breath and hope she can't hear your fast beating heart.

"M-May. What... Uhm, what are you doing here? Already?", Peter chuckles nervously, trying to act as innocent as possible while trying to cover his bare upper body with his arms. May's eyes narrow as she looks at him suspiciously. Her eyes wander around the room, sensing that something is off.

"Why are you not wearing a shirt?", she asks him, her brows furrowed. Peter opens his mouth, but because he has no idea what to say to explain himself, he closes it again. Then he opens it once more, but again can't think of a good excuse.

"You know what? I don't even want to know", she shakes her head, waving a towel around that she must have picked up from the kitchen on her way to his room. "Make sure you put something on though. Something presentable, preferably."

"S-Sure. Why, exactly?", Peter asks with uncertainty in his voice, shuffling to the right to pick up his shirt which was carelessly thrown onto the floor. While doing so, he makes sure that he's still right in front of the bed where you are trying to be as silent as possible. In one quick, smooth movement, Peter pulls his shirt over his head, hiding the obvious clues of what was happening in this room mere seconds ago.

"I invited the Starks for dinner."

"What?", you mumble under your breath at the same time as Peter says it out loud.

"Not quite the reaction I expected, to be honest", May chuckles, pulling a claw clip out of her hair so that her long brown hair falls over her shoulders. "You enjoyed your internship at Stark Industries with Mr. Stark so much and I thought I would be doing you a favour. His wife and daughter will be here, too. And that cute chief of security, Happy was his name?"

"Eww, May!", Peter turns away from her with disgust, shuddering at the thought that his aunt has a thing for Happy out of all people. Nevertheless, his gaze shortly wanders to the framed certificate on the wall that testifies his successful work with the Stark Industries Internship Program. Thank God Aunt May doesn't know that he actually flew to Germany and was involved in a conflict between the Avengers during this so-called 'internship'.

Even though you can't see his aunt from your - extremely uncomfortable - position under the bed, you can literally hear her roll her eyes.

"Do me a favour", she then proceeds, combing her fingers through her hair. "Be sweet to Y/N. She kinda has a crush on you."

Your whole face flushes at once and you almost start coughing, choking on air you inhaled too abruptly, but instead you cover your mouth with your hand.

"Really?", Peter asks with such feigned disbelief that it's extremely suspicious. His voice perfectly captures the satisfaction he's feeling right now and you just know that he currently has that smug smile on his face that you ever so often would like to wipe off.

"I had no idea", he adds to your misery, chuckling a bit under his breath.

"Of course you didn't. Boys never do", May announces with a laugh, teasing her nephew before finally leaving the room and closing the door shut behind her. Her footsteps move away and once he's sure the situation is safe, Peter immediately bursts into a fit of laughter.

"Shut up!", you say angrily and punch the bed from underneath to make him stop laughing. You sigh in defeat when he doesn't. You'd love nothing more than to stay under his mattress forever and never look at him again because everything about this situation is incredibly awkward and makes you want to disappear into thin air.

Peter's laughing face appears in front of you as he kneels down and pushes aside the blanket. The moment he sees you, an emotion darts across his face that you can't quite place, but it certainly has something to do with the intense blush on your cheeks.

"Didn't know you had a crush on me", he mocks you with a wink, trying his best to contain his laughter, and reaches for your hands to help you out.

"Didn't know you were such an idiot", you counter and can't help but let out a soft giggle from the cramped space underneath the bed before you let him free you.

As soon as you're standing upright again, you playfully punch him in the chest and adjust your top, which has slipped from all the action. It only takes him three seconds to pull you towards him by the wrist and kiss you hard, your face in his hands. You sink into him.

"No, but seriously, when did you develop this crush on me? I'd love to know", he murmurs against your lips with a smile, which only earns him a groan from your side. "If Aunt May knew what we did before-"

"I suppose we don't want neither her nor my parents to find out about us like this, so I suggest I get going", you interrupt him, placing your hands on his firm chest to push him away from you. Which is pretty hard since he doesn't want to let go of you just yet.

"I'm sure you'll look stunning at dinner", Peter smirks, his hands riding up your hips to lift up your shirt again. Immediately, you swat his hands away and turn to the window.

"Behave yourself", you roll your eyes with a smile, knowing full well he adores you in any piece of clothing. Or none.

Peter helps you open up the window, the soundscape of New York immediately entering the room. He steadies you while helping you out the window and then wraps his hands tightly around your waist before using one of his webs to gently lower the both of you into the alley outside his window.

Something you're very practiced in with the amount of times you had to sneak out of his room in the middle of the night.

"See you later, Spidey", you say and move to kiss his cheek, but he immediately goes for the full kiss, seemingly not getting enough of you. "And don't embarrass me again."

"I wouldn't think of it!", he answers in shock, as if it isn't something he absolutely loves to do, just to see your adorable reaction to it. You shake your head, smiling and waving as you walk to the main street.

"We still need to finish this!", Peter calls after you and sends another wave of heat to your head, your heart beating faster.

Then came college where working lives, studying life and social life became something that needed to be packed with long lasting memories that you could keep in a box and look at through photos and stories. 

Instead, you studied, you binged a lot of TV and movies during your down-time, you discovered the hardest task of being an adult was figuring out what to eat for every meal for the rest of your life, and you tried to wrap your head around the world you’d been thrown into. 

Time passed. People came and went. Stories were shared, but you could almost track it; the moment they realised you were too much. Too weird, too loud, too quiet, too stubborn, too stand-off-ish, too…much. 

Eventually, and not in an act of theatrics but rather in the slow, quiet kind of way, you stopped trying. 

You stopped trying to make friends, you stopped trying to see a conversation for more than what it was, you stopped trying to push yourself into people’s lives; it was a lot easier to push yourself out of their lives, than it was in. 

And, although it would seem lonely on paper, you made it work. 

You had your family; sure, you couldn’t tell them everything and sure, they couldn’t really keep a secret to themselves, but you had them. You had the characters that lived in the stories you read which, maybe was a little sadder in reality but, they didn’t judge you for being yourself. 

And, you had your dog. 

“Hey, baby,” you smiled brightly as you laid your coat on the hook beside the door and threw your keys onto the hallway table. Your dog, Lyra, was a fluffy golden retriever who spent most of her time sleeping on her back, surrounded by the comfort of your plethora of throws and blankets. 

Lyra sat at your feet, laying her head on your knees before jumping up and trying to lick your face. You laughed, happy to be home, finally. 

By the time morning rolled around and you’d leave for work, she’d hop back onto the sofa and roll onto her back the minute you’d put your coat on. 

“Badge!”

Despite working at Stark Industries for almost six years, Happy still managed to scare you most mornings. You held it up from the scanner to the window. He just nodded and motioned for you to carry on. 

After the morning meeting had concluded, you got straight to work. The recent projects had been focusing on software updates for the last two generation products. 

“Y/n, could you take a look at this for me?”

Peter appeared at the side of your desk, holding a grey tablet out to you. “Sure, what is it?”

“An old project of mine. Think it could work?”

You looked at Peter for a second, a little confused, before you looked over the work. “Uh, yea, sure. You’d probably need to change out the cell battery for something a little longer lasting- I think a couple people on the ninth floor have been successful in a couple things. Why are you asking me?”

Peter shrugged. “I needed a second opinion and you’re meant to be one of the best.”

“I…Why not ask further up?”

Peter smiled a little as he laughed and took back the tablet you handed him. “Because the only difference between this floor and them is the amount of ego in the room.”

That made you laugh. Then he panicked. “Don’t tell HR.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t. And I think they’d be on your side.”

Peter nodded in agreement. “Yeah, guess you’re right. Hey, uhh, I heard there’s gonna be a party after work on Friday?”

“There is?”

Peter chuckled a little. “Yeah, it’s been sought after for the last couple of months, I think. Will I see you there?”

Call it trauma, call it common sense, but you felt every past memory flash across your mind. 

Not being told. Being brought along by a friend. Finding out it wasn’t your scene. Finding out you were specifically wasn’t invited. The plus-one was just to help someone else feel less nervous. 

The pity invite. The fake invite. The actual invite that was cancelled because there was a better party someplace else. 

The atmosphere when you were around people that weren’t actually your friends. The atmosphere when you thought you were. 

“Oh, uh,” you sat back in your chair. “No, probably not.”

“Why not?”

“Just…” In previous times, saying ‘it wasn’t your scene’ didn’t stop people from judging or asking more questions. Questions you didn’t want to spend half an hour defending with answers that shouldn’t have to be said outloud. “Busy, that’s all.”

“Hot date?”

“No,” you shook your head. “Just busy. You have fun, though!”

Peter nodded. “Well, thanks for helping. See you round?”

You nodded. “See you round.”

Usually, that meant never. Or maybe once or twice a year max. 

But, in whatever moment of fate, it wasn’t. You saw Peter three more times that week. And when you tried to clock out early on Friday as others set up for the party which nobody had mentioned to you, other than Peter, he caught you in the elevator. 

“Do you have some time?”

“For what?”

“There’s something I’d like your opinion on.”

That was how you found yourself with an access badge pass to the fourteenth floor of the building, following Peter into his private lab. 

Inside, it was messier than you’d expected, but even you could find what you needed if you had to. 

“I was making modifications to Sam’s wings. Shuri sent me over the prints of her work and she trusted me with it, which is just…huge. But, it got me thinking about a couple of different things. Modifications, creations. And…”

Suddenly, Peter went off on a long ramble about different items that could be used for the team, arrow adjustments for Kate, weight distribution on shields and wings – just about everything. 

And, instead of being surprised by the amount of words he could say within sixty seconds, or the kind of cases he was talking about; the thing you were most shocked by was the fact that Peter trusted you enough to…ramble without breathing. 

To give you so much information within a few minutes without seemingly feeling self conscious. 

“And I’ve seen a lot of your work,” Peter told you. “So, I’m hoping you’ll say yes when I ask you to help.”

“You…” You raised an eyebrow. “You want me to…help?”

“Co-engineers. Collaborate on different technologies and creations.”

Peter told you a little more and, for the first time, you didn’t feel the fear of being around someone for all the working hours of the day. You could disappear into the quiet corners when you were in a room of forty or more. 

In a room of two, it was harder to hide. 

But it was work. 

It wasn’t friendship. 

It was a working relationship where conversations would find a difficult time searching for topics outside of work. 

So, you said yes. 

And for the next six weeks, you got used to having more working space, your own lab which connected to Peter’s via two glass sliding doors which could be shaded out if needed – but Peter rarely ever did. 

Mostly it was when he needed to test the lighting of a suit and needed a pitch black room in order to do so. 

The first thing Peter noticed about you, aside from your work ethic and strategic abilities was the fact you didn’t talk all that much. You’d smile and laugh and reply to things he said, but you didn’t talk much about anything other than the task at hand. 

Once or twice you made an off-handed comment about the traffic on the roads when you’d accidentally come running in late – only by two minutes – which let him know you drove to work and didn’t take the tube. 

But, other than that? He could read your file - his pass gave him access to it. But that felt wrong. 

And he couldn’t have been more thankful than when he accidentally ran into you outside the dog park and lake. 

“Peter?”

“Y/n?” Then he spotted your dog. “You have a dog.”

You smiled. “Yeah, this is Lyra. Lyra, this is Peter.”

Crouching down, Peter was handed a paw by Lyra before you told him he could pet her, though she’d probably just try and lick him to death. 

“Oh my god, you are so adorable. I didn’t know you had a dog,” Peter said. “How old is she?”

“Four,” you told him as she sat down. “An old neighbour of mine had six pups to sell and Lyra was one of them. Pretty sure she chose me, though.”

Peter smiled, turning his head a little and laughing as Lyra wagged her tail and continued to lick his cheek. “Lyra.”

“She’s okay,” he told you. “Thank you, Lyra.”

“What are you doing here?” You eventually asked him. 

“I was just about to grab a coffee from the cart across the park. They sell the best I’ve ever had.” Peter told you before he nodded across to it. “Actually, would you like to join me? That’s if you're not too busy?”

“Uhh,” you looked at Lyra. “No. That-that would be great, actually.”

Peter beamed. “Great. I, uh, I guess I’ll lead the way. So, you have a dog.”

You smiled. “I have a dog.”

“Anything else I should know about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know anything about you.”

“You haven’t read my file?” You questioned. 

“N…no?”

“You have access to it,” you pointed out. 

“How do you know-”

“Happy tested me for the first twelve months of my job. Level twenty five badge gives you clearance to view employee files.”

“I…didn’t know you knew that. But, I haven’t. It felt wrong.”

“Well,” you shrugged. “What do you want to know?”

You’d found, over the years, that telling people what they wanted to know was an easier and much more simple way of avoiding the answers you had to defend, as well as avoiding the topics that made people turn away from you thinking you were too intense, too loud and too much. 

“Okay, uhh,” Peter thought about it for a moment. “Ah, okay, easy one. What’s your coffee order?”

You told him – or rather, you told the barista. To which Peter also told them his before he paid. 

“Peter, you really didn’t-”

He shrugged with a smile as he placed his wallet back inside his pocket. “My treat, honestly.”

“Well…thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, what is your favourite colour?”

You chuckled, “Ooh, too far.”

Peter laughed subtly at getting your reference before he asked; “Seriously though?”

You told him and why he asked why, you told him why. It wasn’t anything profound. It was just a colour that made you feel happy. You asked him in return. 

“If I’m gonna be interrogated over colours, I want to know yours, too.”

He nodded. “Seems fair.”

He told you his and before you knew it, you’d both slipped into less interrogative questions to a natural conversation that, for once, wasn’t about work. 

It was nice, having a friendlier working relationship. You and Peter talked more whilst you worked. You found out about his life with his Aunt and how he came to work with the Avengers. He found out about how you’d accidentally discovered that your work in college had found its way across a lab tech’s desk at Stark Industries. 

“You’re a much better replacement,” Peter said. “Jack was an asshole.”

You chuckled a little. “Thanks.”

The first morning you brought in coffee as a surprise for Peter, you’d been nervous as hell. A billion questions swirled around your head. 

What if he doesn’t like coffee? No, he ordered one. And he’s drunk the shitty stuff from the ninth floor. What if his coffee order has changed? What if it’s wrong? What if, what if, what if?

“I, uh, I got you a coffee.”

“You did?” Peter, through the tired eyes, smiled. “Thank you.”

For a moment, your eyes scanned Peter’s face. Without thinking, you reached out and turned his chin lightly til he was looking at you. 

“Your eye,” you pointed out.

It was subtle, but there was a deeper semi circle just under it, blending into his cheek bone. 

“Oh,” Peter’s face flushed as he turned away. “It’s nothing.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing, just…ran into a wall.”

You stared at him. “Just ran into a wall?”

“Yep.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

For a moment, Peter thought you were seriously mad at him. You walked away in silence, dropped your bags and your coffee by your desk across the room and then you disappeared for at least two minutes. 

“Y/n?”

Suddenly, you came back inside holding an ice pack. “Here.”

“How many people know?” You asked Peter as he sat down with a small ‘thank you’ and held the ice pack against his cheek. 

“Know what?”

“That you’re Spider-Man?”

Peter internally panicked. “What?”

From his desk, you reached for the same newspaper you’d brought from the coffee shop. The headline read Spider-Man Saves Star-Boxer From Mugging: But gets punished for it

“They ran the story before print, this morning. And Happy seemed annoyed you didn’t have your badge. I put two and two together.”

“From a…black eye and a missing badge?”

You shrugged. “And a few other things.” 

You nodded over to the webbed cabinet at the back of the room. Vials for web-fluid that would deplete and regrow, without a single Avenger or person you didn’t already recognise coming to collect them. 

“But,” you added. “You don’t have to worry. The secret's safe with me.”

Peter’s smile was suppressed when he got an ache in his cheek. “Thanks.”

“I don’t know how your healing abilities work, but I can see if I can make something to help with the grazes.”

Peter looked at his forearms and his hands. Cuts and bruises healed, but even he suffered with dry skin which only slowed the healing process of smaller injuries. 

“With my senses, my skin’s sensitive to a lot of stuff.”

You nodded. “I can work with that.”

It took you less than thirty minutes to make a small concoction of balm. Rolling up a stool to sit beside him, you carefully applied it to the couple of grazes he had across his skin. 

“Stinging?”

He shook his head. “No. Thank you.”

You shrugged a little, twisting the lid onto the pot. “Don’t worry about it. Here, apply it when you feel like you need it.”

Peter took it as you laid it in his palm and, for a brief moment, he held your gaze on his own. “Thank you.”

Feeling awkward, you cleared your throat a little and rolled your stool back. “Like I said, don’t worry about it. If you ever need some more, I can make you some.”

Peter watched as you walked away, a little flustered but trying to act as normal as possible. 

By the time Peter caught a look of himself in the bathroom mirror a few hours later, his skin wasn’t just healed but it also looked as if he’d never been attacked by the harsh chemicals of the cleaning solution he’d used before he came to the lab. 

Your balm worked miracles. 

And more than once. 

As the weeks progressed, Peter kept his eye on you. He’d learned a few more things about you; the fact you hummed songs when you were busy but trying to keep yourself calm, that you always pushed your lunch hour to make the day seem less long, and then, in one rather saddening and angered moment, he found out why you were always ‘busy’ when things came up outside of work. 

It had been a long week of running tests and pulling tiny machines apart. So, when a group of the scientists from your previous floor walked past, chatting and laughing before knocking on the lab door, Peter was pleased to hear a party was going to be held a week later. 

“What do you say, Y/n?” Peter asked, turning to see you at your desk on the other side of the lab. “We could make an evening of it?”

You smiled for a moment, but before an answer could leave you, you heard one of the scientists quietly call Peter’s name. 

“There’s not a lot of room and the list is kinda selective, you know, so we can only let so many people know and-”

You saw Peter’s shoulders tense as he folded his arms across his chest. But that wasn’t the thing you focused on. 

You’d seen their faces the moment Peter had turned to you. You’d been through the whole scenario most of your life; if they didn’t look directly at you and ask you, you weren’t invited. 

“I thought you said-”

One of the other scientists cut in. “I guess we could extend the invite and-” 

Walking over, laying one of the Shield tech-pads on Peter’s desk for him to take a look at, you smiled in their direction. “It’s alright-”

“No, it’s not.” Peter cut in. 

But you spoke anyway. “Yes, it is. I’m busy next Friday anyway.”

“Doing what?” Peter turned to you and asked. 

He’d noticed something over the last few months and he was just a few moments from having his theory confirmed. 

“Lyra’s got an appointment at the vet’s for her three month check up,” you said, effortlessly. “Couldn’t find another time.”

The rest of the scientists smiled in relief, making their way out. 

“Guess we’ll see you there, Pete? Bye!”

As the room fell quiet, you headed back over to your desk. 

“Why do you do that?” Peter asked. 

“Do what?”

Peter turned, watching your every movement closely. “Lyra had her three month check up two weeks ago. I know that because Kate told me she saw you leaving the office when she was waiting to get Lucky checked.”

Oh, shit. 

“Why did you lie?”

With a deep breath, you spoke with a calm acceptance. “Because it’s just easier. This isn’t my first rodeo, Peter. I know where I’m not wanted. And, I also know when it’s just a pity invite. I’m not gonna force people to be friends with me.” 

Peter watched as you chuckled. You found your own story too funny for his liking. 

“Jesus,” you chuckled. “I live with myself 24/7. Nobody needs all of that.”

Peter was stunned to his core. 

“Who told you that?”

You looked at him. “Nobody had to tell me, Peter. I just…knew. Well, a few people told me when I was younger. But the older you get, the less people say it, but they do still show it. But you don’t have to worry! I’m used to it. Seriously.”

Peter didn’t know what to do first; sit down from the shock, hug you or call Kate and Yelena to hunt down whoever had convinced you that you weren’t wanted. 

“But-”

“Peter, please,” you said. “Please do not worry about me, or feel bad for me or anything like that. I like my life and, in all honesty, there’s a lot less drama that I have to deal with now.”

Peter, in his shocked state, had walked closer to you and taken a seat by your desk. “Drama?”

You looked at him, torn between two paths. One meant you changed the subject and accepted he, deep down, didn’t want to know, or at least, would listen to your story and realise he didn’t want to know. The second was to tell him and rip the band-aid off, and let him decide whether he actually wanted to know. 

A third diverged before you spoke; maybe he was genuinely curious…and even if it turned out he didn’t want to know, it gave him something to gossip about with his friends. 

Taking a short breath, you found yourself telling him the truth before you could make a definite decision. 

“I’ve not had a lot of friends in my life,” you told him. “Some of it is from a lack of trying, but some of it isn’t. And the few times I’ve had people I could call genuine friends…it turned sour pretty quickly. I’m either too much for people, or not enough. Usually, it’s the former.”

Peter just sat and listened. And, despite the growing pain in your chest as you continued to speak – the same pain that usually told you to stop talking before you crossed the line and ruined everything – you kept talking. 

“But it’s okay,” you cut in. “After the first couple times, I learned my lesson pretty quickly. And, even though they’re not my friends anymore, I still appreciate the friendship. After all, they helped teach me the difference between the kind of invites people get and what they actually mean, you know.” 

Peter’s brows furrowed. His senses were tingling that you were nervous, but on the outside you didn’t seem it. But, he wanted answers. 

“And what do they mean?”

You shrugged a little, thinking about them all and where to start. “Well, there’s…there’s the pity invite. That’s the invite you get when they forget you’ve been in the room or standing next to the person that is actually invited. There’s the invite that’s handed to you because someone else needs help or support. Most of the time, you get forgotten about or have to leave early because your friend has worked up enough courage.”

You thought for a moment before giving a few more examples; the non-invite invite, the spoken about but never acted on, the general invite that is secretly specific, the cancelled invite…

“And people have done this to you?”

You shifted on your feet a little. “Yeah, but, it’s not completely their fault. Like I said, I live with myself 24/7. I can get pretty annoying after a short while.”

Peter’s brows furrowed as he leaned back in shock. “I don’t find you annoying.”

“Because you don’t know much about me. Guaranteed if you did, you’d be secretly pushing me off to another engineer and within six months I’d be at the plywood desk in the corner of the sixth floor.”

Peter was stunned into silence. 

You chuckled a little, again. “But I wouldn’t blame you.”

Without another thought, Peter stood and hugged you which shocked you a little. 

“W…What is this for? Are you okay?” You asked Peter, carefully wrapping your arms around him. 

“Am I-” Peter took a small breath. “I’m okay. But I’m sorry that people have treated you like that.” Peter felt you shrug under him. “I swear to Thor, if you tell me ‘it’s alright’ or that you’re used to it, I’m gonna have Yelena hunt these people down.”

“Okay,” you said, a little quietly. 

Peter hugged you a little tighter and, despite his senses telling him you were trying to fight your own feelings, you leaned into the hug a little. 

It was brief, but he felt you pull back. Unknown to him, on the rare occasion you leaned into a hug to accept it, people tended to move away. 

But, feeling him hold on, you accepted the hug. 

“I’m sorry people made you feel like that.”

You didn’t know why, but your voice shook as you spoke. “Uhh, th-thanks.”

By the time you and Peter decided to go home, you didn’t know how to fully feel. It was the first time you really wondered if you felt okay without having someone who truly cared in your life. 

You tried to act normal for the next few days, thankful to have Friday night to think things over.

But that was short lived. 

Lyra barked as someone knocked on your apartment door, jumping from her spot on the sofa. 

“Alright, alright. Back up,” you told her as you got in front of your door and looked through the peep-hole. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked Peter as you opened the door. 

With a tired-ish smile, he held up the paper bag of take-out. “I’ve got twenty bucks worth of take-out and an entire weekend free. You’re probably sick of seeing my face and if you are you can just say, but if-”

Lyra behind you barked loudly and wagged her tail. So, with a smile at Peter, you held your door open a little more. “Come on in.”

What you thought was going to be a one-time thing, suddenly turned into a Friday night tradition and, slowly, Peter learned more about you as you felt comfortable enough to lower your walls and let him in. 

“You ever seen something like this before?” Kate asked Clint as they both stood outside Peter’s lab. 

Inside, for the last hour, Kate had been transfixed by how you and Peter worked together. Barely a word had to be said, but you both knew what the other was planning to do. 

Clint had nearly crashed into her in the hall, since she was just standing there, staring at the glass wall of the lab. 

Clint paused for a moment, lowering his clipboard as he watched you and Peter, along with Kate. 

Clint smiled. “Once.”

“Who?”

“Fitz and Simmons,” Clint told her. “They’re married now.”

Kate nodded. “I think that’s what’s gonna happen here.”

Clint watched you and Peter for a few more moments. The casual touches to waists to move the other out of the way for a moment, the dips under arms, the steady hands and considerate movements around one another. 

The brief looks when the other wasn’t looking, the positioning of items that the other would need before they know it, the easy access to each other's work, the smiles and memories being made in front of their very eyes. 

Clint nodded in agreement. “Yep.”

Kate was shocked, looking at Clint. “You agree with me? You just agreed with me? Oh, my god.” She followed him down the hallway. “You agreed with me! Yes!”

Meanwhile, inside the lab, you and Peter started talking about the movie plans for Friday night, very quickly finding yourselves in a debate over the best Back to the Future movie and whether or not m&ms in popcorn at the cinema is a good idea. 

Eventually, time moved on and park walks in the morning became a common occurrence between yourself and Peter with Lyra. Having Peter’s usual lunch order logged inside your brain, like your drink order was in his, became natural. 

Then, one evening after you’d called in sick at work, you’d opened the door to Peter, who had his Aunt May’s chicken and dumpling recipe in a washed take-out tub in his hands. 

Through tired eyes, your brain registered Peter was at your front door, but you were pretty sure you were still half-asleep. It wasn’t until his hand touched your head that you realised he was real. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Happy told me you’d called the front desk rather than HR. And when you didn’t text me, I figured you were probably worse than you’d told Happy.”

“That was Happy?” You asked, vaguely remembering talking to someone. 

Peter nodded, helping you through your apartment. “Yeah. Come on, let’s get you back to bed.”

You turned around. “Why are you here? I’m gonna get you sick.”

“Good thing that I have a great immune system. Perks of being bitten by a radioactive spider.”

You sighed. “So cool.”

“Come on.”

Peter got you back into bed, covering you up. “Stay there, I’ll go and take Lyra on a walk. Try and get some rest.”

You nodded, but you must have fallen straight to sleep because next thing you knew, you were opening your eyes to a fluffy golden ball hitting their tail against your bed as Peter carefully laid a tray on your bedside table. 

“Hey,” you said, groggily. “When did you get here?”

You recognised Peter’s smile. “A couple hours ago. I took Lyra for a walk, remember?”

You nodded. “Right.”

“You were fast asleep when we got back so I made a quick call to the pharmacy. Do you never get sick or something? You had, like, zero medicine.”

You nodded. “I’m not usually around a lot of people and I clean…”

You wanted to fall back to sleep, but Peter gently shook you awake. “Hey, come on, medicine first.”

Holding the glass of water with you, you took a drink of water to wash away the terrible taste of medication. “You don’t have to be here, you know.”

Peter looked at you. “It’s what friends do.”

“Still doesn’t mean you have to.”

“Maybe not,” he said. “But your track record of ‘friends’ isn't what I’d call friends. And you are my friend. And I care for you. So, I’m here to take care of you.”

Unable to say anything, and in your groggy state, you wanted to cry. But, keeping your emotions down, you reached out for him and hugged him. 

“Thank you.”

Peter smiled a little, “You don’t have to thank me. Just try and get some rest. I don’t think I live up to Lyra’s usual walking buddy.”

You chuckled a little as you laid down, patting the side of the bed letting Lyra jump up and lay beside you. 

“She loves you really.” 

Peter smiled, his eyes casting over both Lyra and your tired state. “I love her, too.”

Peter reached out, eventually, and pressed a kiss to your head for a moment. Though, you couldn’t be too sure. You were on the edge of consciousness and maybe already half-dreaming. 

“Get some rest, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

It took you three days to get over the flu. And Peter stayed with you the entire time. 

At least, you thought he did. 

He was there when you woke up and just before you went to sleep. You’d recognised a few different smells that drafted through your home, so somebody had been cooking. 

And when you finally found enough strength to have a shower and walk out of your bedroom, you found him and Lyra lying together on the sofa. 

“I think she’s found her new favourite human,” you smiled. 

Peter opened his eyes to see you standing, still tired looking but rested, as you gently squeezed a towel around your wet hair. “What? Oh. Well, I may have bought her love with cereal. Did you know she prefers them over treats?”

You chuckled. “I did. It’s a new thing she’s been doing.”

“I blame Kate,” Peter said as he stood up. “I don’t think Lucky’s seen normal dog food since she adopted him.”

You chuckled, again. “One afternoon with Kate and my dog comes back with a cereal addiction. I feel like I should be more worried.”

Peter smiled before finally reaching you and changing the subject. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, thanks. Did you…did you stay here the whole time?”

Peter nodded. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”

For a brief moment, your gaze locked onto his and rather than shuffling away awkwardly, you smiled. “Thank you.”

“I’ve, uh, I made some soup and a couple other things. Mrs Barton swears by this chicken and jalapeno soup…thing. I think I got the recipe right, so hopefully it isn’t too hot. And, uh, I made some dumplings. They’re from a box, though- did you know how sticky bread actually is to make? I should try using it as webfluid-” Peter chuckled, rambling. 

But you just smiled a little more before suddenly wrapping your arms around him. 

“What’s this for?” Peter asked, hugging you back without question. 

“This is for…” You thought about it for a moment. “For staying with me. And for being you. And…just because. And also because I can’t remember if I hugged you two days ago or if I dreamt about it.”

Peter chuckled, still holding you. “You did hug me, but this is nice.”

You smiled, hugging him a little tighter. 

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he said. 

“Me, too.”

Then, from the sofa, Lyra jumped up, putting both of her paws onto yours and Peter’s shoulders. 

A few weeks later, however, things started to change. 

Touches and looks became more noticeable, and so did the tension in the room. There was a bubble forming around yourself and Peter when you were in a room together and others were beginning to notice. 

And, though it wasn’t affecting your work, it was affecting your working relationship whether or not you and Peter wanted to admit it. 

The brief pauses when you got caught in each other's path stalled both of you. Neither of you knew which way to step or move. The subtle and unnoticed touches burned your skin, but you knew if he held on longer, it wouldn’t brand you but warm you. 

Then came the afternoon that changed it all. 

Peter had been on a field mission for two days and he’d been forced to go radio silent. He’d been on a couple before and your time in the lab was spent counting down the minutes until you could talk to him again. 

But something about this mission felt different. There was at least a small amount of communication between, if not you and Peter directly, a middle agent. 

But there had been nothing. 

Until you came off your lunch break and found him sitting at his desk, looking worn but safe. 

“Oh, my god.”

Dropping your coffee cup by one of the desks, you raced over to him, stopping short of hugging him in order to take in his injuries. 

A black eye that was slowly healing, a couple more bruises and cuts along his body and grazes against his knuckles. 

“Jesus, what happened? I’ll grab the-” As you were moving towards the cupboard behind him to reach for the healing balm you’d made, Peter pulled you back towards him and kissed you. 

He kissed you like he’d been waiting half a lifetime to find you. The way he held you let you know he wasn’t prepared to let you go, either. 

“Not that that…” You tried to steady yourself by holding onto him as the kiss stopped. “But what was that…”

“There’s a lot to explain but the…” Peter swallowed, thickly, holding onto you and pressing his forehead to yours as his eyes closed. “The first thing is that I have feelings for you. More than a friend should feel. I’ve been trying to shove them down but over the last two months and this mission…I don’t want to lock them away. And I think- well, I’m hoping I’m not deluding myself in saying this but I think you-”

Holding onto his face, tenderly, you pulled him in and kissed him again. “Yes, I feel the same.”

Peter smiled through relief. “Thank god.” Then he kissed you again. 

And again. 

And again. 

Until you, reluctantly, stopped him. “Before all that, though, you’ve gotta tell me what happened. Peter, you’ve got injuries all over you.”

Sitting down, still holding onto you, Peter sighed. “It was rough.”

As he kept his hands on your waist and hips, letting him know where he was, you reached for some healing balm and gently applied it as he talked you through everything. 

That evening, after talking everything over, you had Peter remove his t-shirt so you could take a closer look at his wounds. 

“They’re healing,” he told you, calmly, holding your hands against his bare skin and leaning his head against yours. 

“I’m glad you’re safe.”

Peter’s hand held the side of your head and tilted your chin up a little, and kissed you. 

By the time Peter went on another mission, not only did he come home safe – safer than he did when he first kissed you – but he also came back with another verbal surprise. 

“I love you,” he told you. 

You’d both been teetering on saying it for two weeks before Peter left for his mission with Yelena. But the minute he came through the front door, he kissed you and told you over and over again. 

“I love you, I love you, I am in love with you, I love you.”

You laughed a little as you kissed him back over and over again. 

BFFS - Alpha!Peter Parker x Omega!reader

He tried to get back out there after Tony’s passing, he really did, but at the first Iron Man tribute he admired on patrol, his body completely shut down and he swung back home, tears dampening the material of the mask.

So a lonely summer was what Peter submitted himself too, and he’s come to terms with it. He’s rewatched his favorite old shows, started binging some new ones. He’s taken apart and put together his lego death star four times now, each time faster than the last. But he’s been particularly fond of staring out the window. His apartment complex was quite close to the building besides his and he could look down into the backyard everyone had to share. Peter’s building had one as well, but since he was pretty sure he was the only person under 35 who lived there, it went unused.

Next door, there was always a different activity occurring in order for the patrons to beat the heat, and Peter often thought about how easy it would be for him to just go downstairs and introduce himself, and ask to join. It’d really be as simple as that and he’d meet some new people, get a free lunch and a chance to swim in the plastic pool they set up; maybe they’d laugh at his jokes and clap when he did flips, but it was all just a maybe, just in his imagination because his brain never let him wander to far before squandering the idea of getting close to someone again, for if history has taught Peter anything, it's that anything he gets close to, is not meant to stay for long and will be soon snatched away from him in the cruelest of ways.

And this thought is what resigns him to slink back behind his window and pout the day away, as he was doing now, vision blurring as he stared at nothing.

“Hey!”

Peter jumped, his eyes focusing on the target of whoever pelted his window and they landed on your form, slumped against your open windowsill, chin resting on your hand as you gazed back at him.

“Can I help you?” Peter bit back after lifting his window half way, his tone unconsciously laced with annoyance. He really didn’t even notice it anymore since that’s how he’s been speaking to everyone in his life for months now, but when you flinched at his tone, guilt started to creep up his spine.

Before he could ever begin to stumble out an apology, you cut him off “Yeah, is there a reason you stare into my room everyday?”

Peter's face flushed red and he opened and closed his mouth like a fish. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had spoken so bluntly towards him, and honestly, he liked it. He was getting tired of everyone walking on tiptoes around him, he just wanted things to go back to how they were, where he was just Peter Parker, your friendly neighborhood student.

“Or could you at least give me some money for some curtains if you just can’t give up the beautiful view of a concrete wall?”

“S-sorry, I- I didn’t even know you were there.”

Lie.

Peter knew you were there, he always knew when you were there.

Peter Parker isn’t a stalker, though! Sure, he’s gone through some fucked up shit on Earth and in space, so yeah, he wouldn’t call himself the most …sane person he knows, but he really wasn’t a creep. With your buildings being so close and your rooms directly across from one anothers, he was bound to notice you at some point.

And at some point he did. It was the first day of summer and Midtown let out at 12 instead of 3 to mark the occasion, so Peter had been mulling about in his room for quite some time already, thinking about how he heard all his classmates amazing summer plans and how the farthest he was going to go was probably the Thai restaurant down the street, and even that was a maybe. Peter sulked in silence until a couple hours later he heard a door slam closed, thumps from things being tossed on the ground, and a loud groan as he peeked through his windowsill at you who was currently flopped on the bed, window wide open without a care, scrolling on your phone.

At first, he was taken aback by your beauty, a small, small feeling of intrigue spiked his system, but it flew under the radar due to the seemingly everlasting dread that’s been weighing down on Peter's shoulders for months. But he couldn’t look away. You’d been doing nothing but looking at tiktoks mindlessly, occasionally cracking a half smile if a video was particularly amusing, but you still remained cemented to your mattress with no plans on moving anytime soon.

This brought comfort to Peter as he fished his phone out from the bottom of his bag and pulled up Ned’s messages and started to look through the media he sent him, almost two months worth of funny memes and videos that he hadn’t been bothered to look at, and he sat there along with you, aimlessly letting the time pass by. He enjoyed it, knowing he wasn’t really alone in his lazy and distracting behaviors because the pretty neighbor girl was doing just the same.

Ever since then, he’s just been …aware… of your coming and goings. He figured you had a summer job as every other day you were gone for a few hours, a solid shift. But on the days you were home, you also spent it mainly up in your room, every now and then, playing music from your record player, and if he was really lucky, you’d, unknowingly, give him a private concert as you sung out whichever niall horan or ariana grande song struck your fancy that day. He grew quite fond of the music, having added some of the regulars to his own playlist. And he enjoyed knowing you were right there, and he was right here; each of you living your lives, as uneventful as they may be, but you were together in some sort of way.

He’d never spoken to you, the ability of being able to just push his window up and call out to you at any time was what he liked, and each day he thought he’d do it but chickened out, and now it seemed like he’d have to make introductions whether he was ready or not.

“Mmm, right, so you haven’t seen me change or anything like that?” You asked and the content of your question and the inquisitive tone brought a flush to his cheeks.

“N-no! Of course not! I-I’d never do that, why would I even want to look at you? I mean! I don’t think you’re ugly or anything I… I just…”

Peter’s ramblings were cut off with your laugh as it bounced off the summer air and into his room. You were fully leaning out your open window now, and Peter had found himself in the same position, as if he was drawn to you.

“I was only joking with ya, but it's still nice to have the confirmation. I’m Y/N, your neighbor! Obviously.” You trailed off at the end, knowing that information was unnecessary since the boy next door obviously already knew that.

He was like no boy you’d ever seen before, only read about in books. He had a sweet disposition and inviting brown eyes that matched his soft chestnut hair. But he was built like a man, a strong jaw and strong arms. You’d seen him leaving his building everyday on your way to school, and when he’d get dropped off in a big black SUV during the late hours of the night, but he walked in the opposite direction or darted inside so fast,you never really got a chance to take him in.

“…Peter?” His tentative tone snapped you out of your daze and you realized he was introducing himself.

“Sorry, Peter! I- I… got distracted… by your… death star!” You let out, eyes focusing on the black and grey figure resting on his bed.

Peter felt his cheeks heat up as he moved to push it to the ground.

“That’s pretty cool! I finished the star wars series last summer.”

Peter’s eyes snapped up to yours and the friendly smile you were giving him along with the genuine interest in your tone seemed to break something inside him, snapped the band of hesitation that wrapped around his heart. “You did? For the first time?”

“Yeah! I know I’m like super late, but there’s like nine movies!”

Your laughs melded into one as you leaned out your respective windows and began talking about your favorite movie series. Peter was aware that this was unnatural for him. He had been more open to this stranger in the past few minutes than he had to his own Aunt in months and the same guilt from earlier crept up on him. But Peter was having a good time talking to you and he felt his insides turn in excitement when he realized you really had no idea who he was. He had a clean slate with you and he could make any first impression he wanted, well he hoped your first impression of him wasn’t that he was a peeping pervert, but we move, as MJ would say.

You were about to start telling Peter about this new dystopian novel you began reading when you heard a woman call out to him.

“Oh, that’s my Aunt May. She must be home from work. I- I should go say hello.” He explained, a sad look crossing his face that you didn’t quite understand.

You felt your own sadness wash over you, though. You didn’t want to stop talking to Peter either. “Yeah, of course!”

“But we can talk tomorrow right?” Peter asked, his tone laced with uncertainty.

“Oh well, I work double tomorrow… so I probably won’t be home ‘til late.” You said and the way the brown haired boys face visibly fell felt like a punch in the gut and you were scrambling for a reason to make him smile.

“B-but hey! I also get paid tomorrow so if you want, you can come over on saturday and we can have a movie night and we can order a shit ton of take out?”

“Come over to your place?” Peter asked, and he felt himsef involuntarily tense at the idea of leaving his room for the first time in weeks. It was safe in his room. But the pleading look on your face and hopefulness in your tone encouraged him to take the chance.

“I’d love to y/n.” Peter said with a soft smile and you smiled back shyly at him before closing your window and making your way out your room, making sure you were safe in the hall, away from his prying eyes to do a little happy dance.

Peter was unable to wipe the grin off his face as he walked out his room to greet his Aunt.

She heard his feet padding down the hall as she was setting out dinner, “Sorry its not ready yet, Petey, today’s been crazy, but I’ll get started now.” She rushed. Recently, she’s been hoping food’s the key to lift her poor nephews spirits, so each night she’ll either order or make something more fattening, cheesy, and delicious than the last.

“It’s alright May,” Peter let out easily as he turned the counter and placed a kiss on her cheek, “why don’t you let me cook tonight?”

May’s jaw dropped and she blinked a couple times. She could barely get two words out of Peter recently, and they were always either a meak thank you for dinner or an it was good when she asked about his day. She felt her eyes tear up at the slight sliver of her old Petey back.

“O-oh, really, you wanna cook?”

Peter ducked his head down at the ingredients in front of him to avoid looking in her eyes, his heart dropping at the glossiness that overtook them. He truly hadn’t realized how closed off he’d been. “Well, how about we do it together?” He began and the face splitting grin that spread across May’s face was all he needed to know he was taking a step in the right direction.

“G-good idea, honey. Can’t have the house burn down, can we?”

“Hey!”

May laughed and kissed Peter’s head as they began winding through the kitchen, making casual conversation. It was just like the old days, May thought. Before the wave of devastation drowned Peter as he lost a father figure, once again.

“So what did you do today, P? Do you know when Ned get’s back? I’m sure you’re both excited to see each other.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I am. I don’t know when he get’s back actually, but that’s okay-“

“I know you like your peace and quiet, I really do, but I do think it’ll be good for you to get out of the apartment for a little bit, see if Michelle is available. Oh! Or maybe that Lisa, Liz! I liked Liz, see if she’s available-“

“May! Its okay. I don’t need to hang out with Liz Allen,” Peter grumbled, “I- I made a new friend actually.”

May looked over at Peter in confusion since he hadn’t gone out or had anyone over in weeks, that she could remember; and Peter took her silence as an opportunity to continue.

“The neighbor.”

“Mrs. Wozniak?”

“No! Y/n, she lives in the next building over. And my room is right across from hers. We’re gonna hang out on saturday.”

“Oh?” May raised her brows at her nephew and bit back a smile, much to Peter’s chagrin. “Is she pretty?”

“And that’s relevant why?”

“I don’t know!!” May drawled and Peter just rolled his eyes and kept chopping the vegetables in front of him, the blush adorning his cheeks refusing to go down as he thought yes, yes she is.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

You yanked the door open as soon as you heard Peter’s knocks against it. He jumped back a bit, his arm still partially raised from when he knocked and you silently berated yourself for being so eager, but the spreading smile across his face made you feel not so bad.

“Oh, sorry, I was just-“

“It’s alright.” Peter replied with a soft smile, and you let yourself trace the golden flecks in his eyes before he cleared his throat, once again, snapping you out of a daze. You seemed to be in a dreamy state around him alot.

“Can I come in? I brought my Star Wars DVD collection by the way, I know you’ve seen them, but this one has the director's cut which I thought totally changed the course of the first trilogy!” Peter explained, rocking on the balls of his feet in excitement.

You bit your lip at the sight, his cuteness was rubbing off on you. “Yeah, that sounds great, but actually we aren’t gonna be watching in here.” You said, grabbing the bag of Chinese food and snacks and stepping out.

Peter’s face sputtered as you both walked to the stairs. He’d spent all day building up his courage to just go six feet from his building, there was no way he’d be able to go around the city with you for the fear of seeing something that’ll remind him of the avengers or crime.

“Y’alright?” You asked, noticing Peter’s stony silence as you walked down the last flight and made your way to the back gate.

“Yeah, sorry, I guess I’m just nervous. I haven’t really hung out with anyone new in a while, well, with anyone at all really.”

You smiled in sympathy, “I get you, I haven’t either. All my friends are out of town, so I’ve mostly just hung out in my room, too.”

“But you already knew that, don’t ya stalker?”

Peter rolled his eyes and shoved your arm as you laughed, glad you got his nerves out of his system. You unlocked the gate and lef Peter to the back garden.

“Woah..” Peter let out. There was a large white sheet hung up between two trees, and a projector set up on the table behind where a blanket lay, covered in a mess of pillows. The setting sun lit up by strung lightbulbs.

“You like? I figured since we both seemed to be home bodies, we could have the fun of the movie theatre, but here!”

Peter felt his heart swell at your words. You’d only known him for two days, and you already treated him with so much consideration and kindness. “I- I love it, y/n. This is amazing.”

He saw how you tucked your cheek into your shoulder in bashfulness and felt his spirits raise even higher. You were adorable.

“I’m glad you like it. I hope the projector works though, it took me forever to translate the instructions.”

Peter walked over to it and gave it a once over. “It seems fine to me, but I can always look at it if you want.”

“Oh yeah? You good with tech?”

“Good enough to get by. I needed it a lot while working with Mr. Stark” Peter began, forgetting that he wasn’t talking to an old friend.

“You worked with Tony Stark?!?”

“Oh.. oh yeah, only for a little! I was an intern.” He said quietly, beating himself up for even bringing up the topic of Tony. The last thing he wanted to do was cry in front of a pretty girl.

“Wow, that must’ve been amazing. You, you must miss him a lot then, huh?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled lifelessly. “Yeah I do.”

“But no matter, we’re here to have a good time right?”

“Yeah, yeah we are!” You grasped his hand and gave him a sympathetic squeeze -neither of you blind to the sparks that shot from the place your hands met- and got settled on the blanket.

Two and a half moves later, the sun had set and the two of you were sitting in the darkness, the only light coming from the flickering of the projector as the abandoned movie played. You and Peter were sitting cross legged, facing each other as he told you another story about working with the Avengers.

“Yeah, it was so crazy!! We were in this airport and he went from being like two inches tall to two hundred feet, it blew my mind. But it was okay though, because I had this idea-“

“Wait, wait, wait. You were there? Why?” You asked, loving every adventure filled anecdote he told you, but it wasn’t all adding up. For just an intern, he seemed incredibly close to Mr. Stark himself, but then again, you’d only known him for less than a week and you also wanted to go everywhere with him.

Peter worried his lip, thinking about how he could worm his way out of this one. Why would a teenage intern be at the Avengers civil war? He figured he could lie, or even just run away and buy black out curtains. Maybe he could convince Aunt May to switch rooms with him even. But you’d already brought so much light to his life in multiple aspects, and he thought, just maybe, you’d be able to bring light to that aspect of his life too.

“You know what, lemme just show you! Wait here, I’ll be back!”

Peter ran back down, his Chewbacca flash drive in hand, adrenaline running through his veins. He plugged it into your laptop and dug up a folder he hadn’t touched in almost eight months.

“What’s this?” You asked as he sat back down next to you.

“You’ll see.” He said, eyes glued to the screen in front of him.

A Film by Peter Parker, read the title as a compilation of videos featuring Peter, Happy, Aunt May, the Avengers, and Tony projected before you both.

Peter heard you gasp as the camera flashed to the suit, and saw, from the corner of his eye, how your head snapped towards his as he backspringed across the battleground. The film continued and neither of you could tear your eyes from the screen. Peter felt his eyes well up with tears as a scene with him and Tony talking to the camera began and he thought that watching this was a bad idea and he was about to turn around and turn it off when he felt your fingers intertwine with his.

He sucked in a sharp breath at the warmth you brought him and he squeezed back, his brain nearly malfunctioning at the speed in which he tried to memorize the feel of your hand in his. But his senses were overloaded as he picked up on your accelerated heartbeat.

The two of you continued to watch the video, neither moving even when it autostarted from the beginning, and this time you laughed outwardly at the funny parts, and asked him questions about why Happy didn’t seem to like him.

“What did you do to him Peter?”

“Nothing I swear!”

“Likely story.”

And he felt the steel blanket of grief fall off his shoulders. The feeling of intrigue and excitement for going back to life was no longer a small trail buried deep within him, but now a firecracker that ignited his insides and aurated off of him. Things were going to be alright, he was going to make it out this summer with more than just the memories from his bedroom, and he’d make it through whatever else life would throw at him, as long as he had you by his side.

Because you didn’t make his heart beat faster out of fear, you made him feel flustered and full of affection.

And you didn’t hold him roughly, with the intent to harm him; you held him delicately, and he could only wait to be able to hold your heart the same way.

You want it to stop right fucking now. But no matter how hard you try, it never leaves. It’s nagging, like a fly or a nat, and you want to rip your hair out in frustration. Your back hits a massive tree, head turning in different directions while you look for that comforting mop of brown curls. They’re nowhere in sight though, so you keep moving forward.

There’s blood on your shirt and hands, dirt covering your face and your once clean converse. Inhaling, your lungs are relieved with fresh oxygen, and your blood is pumping quickly, heart pounding against your ribcage consistently. It’s ringing in your eyes, constantly reminding you that you’re alone in this life. It only moves you forward, motivates you to find him.

You’ve been here before. You can feel it, in your gut and in your bones, that you’ve been in this predicament before and you know how this ends.

The way this ends though, is not how you want it to end. You want things to be your way for once — you want control over this. It’s ridiculous really, because nothing is ever truly in your control, but you want it anyways.

You’re in the familiar forest of some random part of New York. It’s a faint memory brought to life — this has already happened in your lifetime, except not with these people and these clothes and this knowledge. You’re cursed with this knowledge.

Emerging from the woods, you’re met with the front of a once comforting cabin. It’s dark and run down, but your dad’s car is parked in the driveway and you grip your chest with a sob. Spinning around, you find every clavicle and cranny, every groove and gap, searching for at least one person.

You near another path and your feet pick up, shoes hitting the dirt at an alarmingly fast rate. Just up ahead, in the moonlight, is the lake. Moonlight shines the night, reflecting the beauty of the moon. Just before the clearing of the lake is a fallen tree, laying in melancholy of old age and murder. You come to a slow, almost a stop, hesitant to see what lays beside the tree.

You mutter a “fuck” under your breath, body antsy with sweat and anxiety. Your palms are clammy, clenched at your sides, and the strings of your hoodie hit your chest at the last bouncy step. Damp with sweat, you take another step, a scream lodging in your throat, and suddenly you jolt awake, body upright in the dark room of your apartment. The curtains aren’t completely drawn, moonlight seeping through the cracks and lighting up parts of your heavy blanket at the hardwood floor.

You wipe at your forehead, sweat dampening your hand while another tear falls from your soft face. You glance around your bedroom before removing the covers hastily, feet hitting the cold floor with a wince, and suddenly, you’re weakly making your way out of the bedroom and towards the exit. You’re subconsciously navigating towards your roommate's room, the door shut in peace. You can hear nothing but the calming in’s and out’s of his breaths, and you stop and clutch your chest in a heaving breath, eyes flooded in salty tears.

Your hand grips the door handle and the wooden gate gives way, swinging open and nearly banging the wall behind it. Another step forward, you realize you’re shaking, and as the sweet boy in bed comes into your view, you exhale in relief.

“Y/N?” He’s rubbing at his eyes, sitting up slightly with a groggy voice. He’s fresh out of sleep, that fact present in the evidence: his voice, his demeanor, his body language. You almost feel bad, guilt rushing through you, but when you suck in a sniffled breath, he’s awakening faster than ever. “What happened? Is everything alright?”

You nod weakly, something that doesn’t convince either of you. He sits up further, the blanket falling to reveal his bare golden chest. Normally, you’d be flustered at the view, but you’re too caught up in your head to think of anything but getting his touch.

“What happened?” He tries again, feet softly padding over to you, arms reaching out cautiously, not wanting to overload you with questions and touches.

“Ni- nightmare.” You blink, reaching out for something stable to help you keep your stance in the room. Peter’s hands make contact with your skin, something that causes butterflies to erupt in your stomach. You release a breath, out of relief that he’s here, at your touch, and you don’t need to worry anymore.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“You were- you were there one minute an- and then you- you left me and I- I couldn’t find you-”

He stays quiet, realizing you’re about to have another breakdown. With permission, he pulls you into his embrace, arms wrapping around you protectively, while he kisses your forehead and then the top of your head.

“I’m right here, see?” He offers a smile, and you let out a teary chuckle, eyes glancing to his messily arranged curls and then to his abandoned blanket, and all over again, you feel bad.

“I’m sorry,” Peter pouts at your words, shaking his head.

“No, I’m- I’m glad you came to me. I know how bad nightmares are — I’m here for as long as you want me to be.”

“I don’t- I don’t want to leave you.”

Peter’s face softens, in infatuation and flattery. His big, puppy-dog brown eyes marvel your vulnerable form, and he offers a gentle smile, one you try to mirror.

“Wanna sleep with me?”

You nod again, and Peter’s sensual hands guide you to his bed. You slip under the covers, Peter laying beside you. Your head rests atop his chest, listening to his heartbeat while one of his hands squeezes yours in comfort.

You’re aware now that he’s still shirtless, and that you’re just his roommate, cuddling him after a nightmare. But he’s so sweet and adorable and gentle with you that you can’t help but want to confess your long suppressed feelings.

He hums against you, acknowledging that you’re still awake and making it known that he knows.

He whispers, soft and almost so quiet you wouldn’t be able to hear it had you not been so close to him. “Please tell me you’re alright.”

“I’m alright if you’re alright,” You squeeze his middle to comfort yourself, not just him. “I don’t want to lose you like that.”

“Like how?”

“Like how I did in my dream. You-” you swallow thickly, voice choking up. Peter’s hands move up and down your back, brain following his instincts for what he hopes is right. For someone who doesn’t have much experience in cuddling, he’s doing a really great job. “You just slipped from my hands.”

“I promise I’m not going to slip from you like that.” He interlocks your pinkies, smiling down at you even though you’re not looking. You hum, unsure of where to go from here. Peter’s heart is thumping against his chest harshly, so hard that he knows you can hear it with your ear to his skin. He tries no to focus on that, but instead your gentle fingertips that are drawing images into his skin, and your soft breaths and exhales, and your heartbeat, the one that’s kept him steady for so long. For a roommate, he’s done an awfully bad job at staying behind the line of boyfriend.

He can’t help it though. Not when there’s moments like these, or small breakfasts before class lectures, or late night pizza dates on Friday, or studying for finals and exams in your corner of the library.

He can’t help it when you look at him like that, with hopeful eyes, intimate eyes, vulnerable eyes. He can’t help it when he thinks there might be a sliver of a possibility of you reciprocating his very secretive feelings.

He can’t help it when all he wants to do is wake up next to you — in the middle of the night because of a nightmare, or in the morning when the sunshine hits your face in the way that makes you even more ethereal than before.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Why was it a nightmare?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why… why was losing me a nightmare?”

Your breathing comes to a quiet stop, breath hitched at the unexpected question. Peter’s quite sure his heart has stopped too, but alas, your whispered response hits him harder than anything has before.

“Because… because I like you and- and I like the way you make me feel.”

It’s quiet for a few beats, almost as if the prior events had never taken place and the apartment is filled with the once peaceful silence of sleep. But then, Peter whispers the words you’ve always wanted to hear.

“Y’know something?”

“Hm?” You encourage him to go on, curious and almost afraid of what he’s gonna say.

“I like the way you make me feel, too.” He clenches and unclenches his free hand, using it to stroke your cheek. “I like everything about you and I… I don’t know. I really like you.”

You hum, and suddenly, you feel the peace that everyone else feels in the night. Wrapped up in Peter and his blankets that smell just like him, you feel it almost as strongly as you feel the love you have for Peter — even if you don't know that it’s love.

“I guess we’re not roommates anymore?”

“What?” Panic fills you, eyes widening even in the dark. “What do you mean? Why? Wh-”

“I mean,” he stutters, clearing his throat nervously. “If we can be m-more than friends.”

“Do you want that?”

“I do,” he admits bashfully. “Do you?”

For once, you look up at him, fingers interlocking again. “I really do.”

You fall asleep like that: wrapped in the comfort of Peter and his bed, peace and serenity flooded through your veins. For the first time, you make it to the end of a different dream, one where he doesn’t slip from your hands.

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You chuckle, shrugging. "I like it, though there are some expensive shit here", you were trying your second dress, while she would drink the rest of her milkshake. Finding something to wear to some fancy Mr. Stark's dinner was proving to be one of the hardest things you had done in a week, which were something big itself, since you had so many stressing classes in college.

So you, Peter, Ned and MJ went to the mall that afternoon, looking for something for all of you to wear in that special night. Peter and Ned went to some store for man clothes, looking for a new suit or something, and you and MJ were now trying some dresses.

"What you think about this one?", you turn around, out of the trial room, staring at the mirror to take a better look. MJ raised her head to look at you, her bored face giving place to a tiny smile as she crosses her arm.

"This one is beautiful", she cocks her head to the side. "Specially if you want a certain someone to get a boner", she teases.

"What? MJ!", you shout, cheeks getting red at the thought of Peter getting a little too excited in the middle of a dinner with his 'coworkers'. "Is it that bold? I can change it, it's not even that pretty, I'm gonna find something else-"

"Hey, y/n, calm down", she giggles, shaking her head. "I'm joking, okay? It's beautiful, it's not bold. But you do look really pretty", she shrugs. "I mean, in the most strictly restrictive standard a society can set up for you to be, but... yeah, it still looks good".

You smile kindle at her statement and turn to take a last glance. "Okay, then that's it, this is the one".

You were about to step inside the cabinet again to change back into your clothes when you hear Peter and Ned's voices coming in your direction, as if they were quietly arguing.

"I'm not gonna wear that, Ned, it's fucking ridiculous-"

"Hey, you guys", you smile and wave, giggling at their clumsiness as they never stop on their track to talk to each other. "Found mine. What do you think?"

Peter snaps his head to the sound of your voice, his eyes meeting your body and his feet finally going to a stop. His hands are still in the air, dropping slowly while his mouth was agape and his jaw tensed. He swallowed hard before saying anything else.

"So... do you like it, Pete?", you were mostly worried about everyone's opinion after what MJ said. What if you made an appearance in a Tony Stark's dinner too dressed up or showing much more than you should? What if it wasn't elegant enough to attend to? You were Peter's girlfriend and you didn't want to embarrass both of you going with the wrong dress.

"It's... woah, I mean, it's beautiful", he said, voice husky as his eyes kept tracking your body. You titl your head to the side.

"You sure? You took too long to answer, I'm gonna search another-", you start to ramble, but then MJ coughed a little.

"Y/n, remember what I told you? So...", she hides the tiniest smile as he grabs her phone and book and gets up from her seat. "Ned, I didn't find anything yet. Mind helping me out?"

"What? No! I'm not good at this girl's stuff, and you're so hard to get to like anything. Aaand I need to help Peter, cause he didn't like his suit, he really needs my help-"

"Ned", MJ says sternly through gritted teeth. "Now".

Ned sighed loudly, but gave up nonetheless, following MJ down the hall to look through some other options.

You smile at them, as they disappear in the store, glancing back at Peter, who was still staring at your body. "Hey, weirdo", you giggle, and watch as his cheeks start to rise in pink.

"Oh, sorry, I... I was just thinking that you look really stunning, baby", he smiles, licking his lips briefly. "So, that's it? Is that the one?"

Peter, in fact, would be very pleased if that was your choice, but he couldn't deny the euphoria that passed through his body as soon as you shook your head and smirked. "Actually, I have a couple more dresses here. Wanna see me try?"

You have already discarded all the other ones as possible choices, but you knew how they still looked good on you. Seeing Peter wearing that grey sweatpants you loved so much made you want to tease him a little bit more. You knew how he looked with those whenever he was turned on.

"May I ask your help?", you say as you turn around, pointing to the ziper on your back, hiding your mischievous smile.

"Yeah, yeah, sure", he excitedly said, not losing a single second to touch you, fingers lingering over your skin as he helped you get undressed again. When he was done, you held the front of the dress and turned around again.