#sinisterspidey

“can i wear your suit, pretty please?”

“y/n, for the tenth time tonight, no.” peter huffs, hands clenching tighter around your thighs. huh. you don’t remember asking nine other times. “mr stark would kill me if i need to get another new suit this early in the year.”

pouting, you let your head hang on his broad shoulder. around ten minutes ago, while you were in the middle of throwing back one of many shots, your boyfriend had showed up, a heavy frown evident on his thin lips. gwen, your best friend, had screamed at the sight of peter and begun telling everyone around her the story of your and peter’s relationship. she had barely gotten halfway through before peter, face as red as your dress, grabbed you, and you ended up heaved on his back, too drunk to make the walk home without help.

“are you mad at me?” you sniff, tear-filled eyes staring at his side profile.

“i’m not exactly overjoyed you told gwen i cried during our first time and she recounted that in detail to a whole frat party,” peter grumbles, walking steadily down the pavement and towards your dorm with your weight draped over him as though you’re a feather. “but i’m not mad at you, baby.”

breathing a long sigh of relief, you smush your lips to his cheek in a messy kiss, “i love you so much, petey,” you whine, tears rolling down your face, “like so much. i’d—i’d love you if you were as short as that space squirrel, or green like dr banner, or—or if you turned into a spider on the full moon, or—”

you lose your train of thought as peter arrives in front of your dorm and you suddenly remember the brownies you bought earlier. as soon as he puts you down, you cling to his arm, your heeled ankles wiggling unsteadily on the floor.

peter twirls his arm around your waist and bringing you to his chest, laughing at the way you went from describing all the ways you’d still love him to babbling about craving sweets. with a swipe of your card, the both of you are safe in your dorm, and you fall onto the bed, giggling as you bounce.

“pete,” you sing-song, making grabby hands at him, and he obliges, sitting beside you, “i... i want brownies.”

“we’ll get your brownies, angel,” he reassures you, “just as soon as you help me get you in pyjamas, okay?”

his hands slide along your thigh and under the skirt of your dress, making a devilish grin spread across your face, and you push him onto his back. giggling, you throw a leg over him, peter looking up at you with a wide, shocked expression as you lean over to try and kiss him.

“babe,” he squeaks, pulling away from you, “what are you—wait—”

“petey,” you laugh, laying a drawn-out smooch on his cheek, “i’m—let me kiss you.”

he sits up, arms circling around your waist and drawing you close to his chest. “sweetheart, you’re really drunk. let me take care of you.”

“you’re gonna... take care of me...” you burst into giggles, wiggling his eyebrows at him suggestively. “i wanna take care of you too, baby.”

sighing, he stands up, still holding you in his arms as he walks to the bathroom. you busy yourself with planting open-mouthed kisses to his neck and jaw, fully amused with the rose shading his skin. peter sets you down next to the sink, jumping up when you instantly start swinging your legs in the air and almost kick him right between his own, completely unaware of your actions.

slowly, he brings the hem of your dress up, and you let him slip it over your head, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him into a kiss. he doesn’t let it evolve into more than a short peck, but drops a sweet kiss on your cheek to appease you. tired out from the alcohol, you’ve calmed down, letting him dress you in a loose shirt you stole from his wardrobe ages ago.

one hand holding yours, peter uses the other to take your makeup off, peppering kisses on your nose in between a few swipes of the cotton along your skin, and you clutch his sweater with your free hand. when your face is clean and your teeth are brushed, peter scoops you once more, smiling gently as you bury your visage in his neck, mumbling half-asleep nothings against him.

you melt into your mattress as soon as he places you on it, but your boyfriend takes his time finding a water bottle, advil and the box of brownies you’d been raving about earlier. whining at the empty space beside you, you kick your legs out under the blankets like a petulant child, but peter seems to have endless patience and even more endless adoration for you. he simply grins at your antics, reaching back to take his shirt off before he slides beside you.

like a moth to a flame, you’re on him in seconds, cheek squished against his bare chest. he cuddles you into his side, chin on top of your head, and you both sigh out at the same time.

“petey?” you mumble, eyes closed.

he hums in response, running his hand up and down your back lightly. “yes, sweetheart?”