#small hours

--prompt from @picklemafia

Skin scent, powdered nose, dusty starlight. Smoke filters through the windowsill,

turning the moon into a tangerine tainted with a sliver of sugar.

But there's nothing sweet in the small hours; anything which blesses me dissolves like snow;

anything bitter imbues into my roots like monsoons drenching an orchid until its violets dissolve into marigold.

In the indigo midnight; crystals convey my tired eyes; I'm singing a song from somebody who only walks on brambles

with ghostly feet. Morning will come, and I will cry, for the moonlight has not caressed me enough

Small Hours    -   Martin Gale.

Irish, b.  1949  -

summary: due to your nightly fire escape dates, new york’s friendly neighborhood spider-man has grown to be more to you than just a stranger but now you find out that he was never a stranger to begin with

pairing: peter parker x reader

word count: 979

warnings: just fluff

a/n: this is more of a blurb really but i’ve just been told that today’s spider-man day!! so this is in special honor of our sticky boy double p. enjoy x

small hours

noun [plural]; the first few hours after midnight and before dawn and sunrise

You sighed, head falling back to stare at the rusty metal above you. A gentle breeze carried the echoes of the city pass you and your shoulders slumped, muscles relaxing and head clearing. Sitting on the fire escape had that effect on you. It was nice to observe your surroundings from afar without actually seeing anything. Your window faced a tree, and beyond that, a bare brick wall—not really a sight to behold. But in a way, you liked depending on your other senses to paint the picture of your happenings outside this alley.

Glancing into your room that was lit up in purple lights, the clock on your wall read 3 a.m. and just on time, the person you’ve been waiting for landed on the metal railing with a soft thud. You didn’t need to look up to know it was him—nobody moved like him.

“You don’t ever sleep, do you?” The boyish voice scolded with the edge of amusement. Lifting your shoulder in a half shrug, you took in the sight of him sitting on the railing, legs swinging freely.

The chill of an empty bed woke Thomas just as the sky was turning from black to indigo. Confused, he stretched out his arm in search of his husband. His sleep-muddled mind had some trouble recalling exactly why he was alone in bed, but memories of the night crept back into his consciousness. He vaguely recalled the baby monitor crackling on the nightstand, the plaintive cries stirring Thomas into motion--but before he could draw himself out of bed, Richard had leaned over him from behind, kissed his cheek, and in a low voice, said, “Rest, love. I’ve got her.” And, evidently, Thomas had done just that. 

He dragged himself up now. That short conversation must have happened some time ago, hadn’t it? Thomas pulled in his dressing gown--comfortable, and no matter how much Richard teased him for it, Thomas knew his husband was glad to receive his own--and headed down the hall. 

Upon reaching the nursery, he stopped in the threshold, breathless. Richard dozed, lounging in the plush armchair in the corner, housecoat undone, chest exposed. Upon that chest he cradled Audrey. Their baby. Their daughter. Warmth bloomed within Thomas’ chest as he took in every detail of the scene. Dimly lit as it was, his little family was illuminated only by the soft, barely-there light of the creeping morning, and the glow of the moon-shaped nightlight beside the crib. Even slumbering, Richard held Audrey in a protective embrace; the little girl lay on her front, with one strong hand enveloping her back and shoulders and another under her bottom, keeping her secure. Her downy head was tucked under Richard’s chin. To Thomas, Richard looked like some sort of guardian angel. Certainly, if anyone was qualified, it was him. God knew he’d held Thomas just as lovingly, just as securely as he now held their daughter. 

When he finally did step into the room, he almost regretted it; Richard’s eyes opened, startled out of his light sleep. Thomas hurried with light footsteps to the side of the chair so that the wouldn’t have to speak above a whisper. He leaned down to kiss his husband sweetly on the lips as he knelt beside the chair. In a breath, he said, “I was wondering where you’d gone off to.”

Richard offered a sleepy smile. “I quite lost track of time, I’m afraid.” He carefully adjusted Audrey in his hold, and then set his thumb in motion, caressing her soft skin at her shoulder. His eyes met Thomas’ in the darkness. “Couldn’t bring myself to put her down.”

Thomas knew the feeling. He’d spent the whole of the last week floating on air, having finally brought their little girl home for good. As focused as he’d been on her, he’d not yet had much of a thought to spare for Richard; but he beheld him now, and he was glorious. Pride and unspeakable love swelled in him for the man he’d married, and the man with whom he now had a family. Knelt as he was, Thomas leaned his cheek against Richard’s shoulder and placed a hand atop his, joined over Audrey. 

Richard’s voice, low and gentle, hummed through the silence. “I love you. Both of you. So much.”

Speechless in his happiness, Thomas only breathed against the sting of tears and kissed the arm against which he leaned. He should, all things considered, try to get Richard back into bed for a decent rest. The man had work in a few hours, after all. At the very least, Thomas himself should probably start thinking about making breakfast for the both of them, if Richard was to stay as he was for as long as he could. 

But not yet. Here, with this man and this little girl, his world was perfect. 

Part 1 

Altars Altars - Small Hours

Home Normal