#tasm!

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You didn’t want to go out that night.  

You had much preferred to stay at home and read your current novel of choice, but your fiancé, Harry, had insisted you accompany him to the circus performance across town. 

“Come on, sweetheart. You know the people will talk if they don’t see you by my side. And we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Harry says, crystal blue eyes so heavy on your back, you can feel them.

Your relationship with Harry was strictly business. One created for societal appearances and financial security. 

You didn’t quite detest it, however, because despite your affinity for fantasy books featuring great romances, you knew the difference between reality and fiction; True love didn’t exist. And Harry Osborn wasn’t a bad man. He bought you extravagant gifts, never treated you with disrespect, and he was a man of wealth and many prospects. He was the sole heir of the Osborn family business, one that remained successful to this day, and after the passing of his father, Harry became the richest man in all of New York. 

You were born from money as well, of course; however, your riches had run dry thanks to a business misfortune that led your father to relinquish his role in the family. 

Permanently. 

You were now the only one who could guarantee any form of security for you and your mother, and with the help of your good friend, Gwendolyn Stacy, a well-liked member of high society, you were introduced to Harry Osborn.

The first meeting wasn’t anything of romance either. After a walk in the Stacy estate gardens, he admitted why he was so interested in you.

“There’s a deep sadness in you. It’s in your eyes and the way you carry yourself.”

You nearly pause mid-step but keep your composure, an apology ready to be uttered. A sad girl would not make a desirable wife, you can almost hear your mother hiss.

As if he can tell your concern, he chuckled. “I like it. It's of comfort to me,” he reveals, an odd twinkle in his eyes.

You stare at him, expression unmoving, ignoring the sinking feeling in your chest.

It was an internal conflict that ended quite quickly when you realized that there was no point in dwelling on it at all; all that mattered was for Harry to want you, whether it be genuine or for more... peculiar reasons. As long as he asked for your hand, you were guaranteed a secure future, and that’s all you cared about. Plus, you admired his honesty, because honesty was one of the many qualities of a good man. 

And Harry was a good man. 

You didn’t mind that your marriage would be loveless or void of passion. In fact, it was easier that way. You could remain living in your own little world, just how you liked it. He even promised to let you read at all hours of the day as long as you allowed him to do what he liked most as well—Go out drinking with colleagues, smoke tobacco in the parlor room, casually entertain pretty women. Not anything too far, but just enough to be fun for him.

It was the deal you two had that made him beyond susceptible to marrying you. And in marrying you, he would take care of you. A good man takes care of his wife.

And Harry was a good man.

“You've become a very valuable asset, sweetheart,” he had told you after your walk, blue eyes squinting as he smirked, his left eye hidden behind his dark hair. 

You can imagine all the women who would absolutely die to have the Harry Osborn look at them like that. You were very lucky. There might have been no sweetness in the way he spoke to you, but there was also no aggression, like how your father would speak to your mother whenever she would come into his view. Throughout the walk, he honestly made you feel like you were a pet of some sort. Or another business deal. 

But you knew there were worse ways to feel. So when Gwen headed over to you once he left, asking giddily about how it went, you said, “He’s quite the gentleman. I think he plans to propose next week.”

Her big blue eyes widen. “And?” she questions.

You linger on her expression, noticing the excitement she can barely contain. Her hands fidget anxiously as she waits for your response, and you find it comical how she looks more giddy about your possible proposal than you are.

“I’m saying yes,” you confess, and Gwen immediately jumps up, taking you into a hug. “Oh my goodness, this is amazing! You’re getting engaged!” she squeals.

You try not to overthink your lack of excitement in comparison to her. You don’t dwell on how you feel nothing at all. Instead, you plan in your head what you’ll be wearing to the planned proposal and if you can make do with what you already have in your closet.

The proposal, as planned, arrives the following week. Harry invites you and half the city to a party at his luxurious estate, and after light appetizers and a champagne toast, he gets down on one knee and asks you the question you practiced answering in the mirror for days leading up to it.

“Yes, of course,” you say simply, a smile plastered on your face. 

Everyone around you erupts into cheers. Bottles pop, men clap each other on the back, women squeal with excitement, and you can hear your mother and Gwen sobbing happily. The sounds are loud, the celebration grandiose, yet it all fades into silence. The world slows around you, each movement unfolding in a blur as your vision softens. You almost fell numb to the ring being slid up your finger. 

It's gaudy and not even close to something you would have picked out, with a diamond so obnoxious, you're sure the money could have been spent feeding half the city. Harry stands up and snakes an arm around your waist, smiling as cameras pop up from the crowd, flashes blinding you completely as he pulls you closer to him.

“Take it in. As the future Mrs. Osborn, the world is your fucking oyster,” he whispers in your ear with a low chuckle, the kind that makes it clear he expects this level of admiration because everyone else exists a level beneath him. You ignore the sick feeling in your stomach and continue to smile.

The next day, that same smile is plastered on the front page of the Daily Bugle. 

You spent the next few weeks leading up to the wedding playing the part of 'perfect fiancé'. Attending social events with Harry, standing by him in support during public appearances, and most importantly, agreeing to whatever he requests. So, when Harry asks to go to the circus, you say yes despite not wanting to, because that would make him happy. And you knew that the key to a successful marriage was a happy husband. 

Anything else you craved, the books you spent hours devouring could give you. 

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The big red-and-white tent is an eyesore. There are strings of lights hung all around it, and crowds were walking in with a giddiness you couldn’t imagine exhibiting, but it was enjoyable to observe. Harry is chatting with his friend, Eugene ‘Flash’ Thompson, while his girlfriend, Elizabeth Allan, is clad by your side.

“Oooh, you’re so lucky. I overheard Flash talking with Harry, and he said that he’s planning on having your ceremony at the Met! Is that true?! Oh, you’re going to have the most romantic wedding the city has ever seen. You have to let me be your maid of honor; I could absolutely plan the best…”

You don’t remember anything else about the conversation because, like most times, you zone out and just watch the world around you: the kids running gleefully into the tent, couples holding hands and giggling, the man on a unicycle greeting people in. 

You’re grounded back to reality, though, when you reach your seats on a row of bleachers, and Harry tugs you into the seat next to him.

“I’m really hoping they have those freaks in the show. You know, like the bearded lady and the guy with lobster claws for hands,” Flash gushes obnoxiously, waving his hand over at a vendor walking his way.

Harry chuckles, passing the vendor a bill once he approaches, grabbing a box of popcorn and a bag of peanuts.

“You’re a freak yourself, Thompson, if you’re into those weirdos.” 

He passes the box of popcorn to you, and you take it, despite not wanting any, because you know Harry just intends for you to hold it for him. 

Suddenly, the lights dim and a single spotlight appears in the middle of the ring. A voice booms throughout the walls of the tent, and you can feel the nervous energy radiating off of everyone inside of it, anticipating the spectacle that’s to come.

“Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages, welcome to the greatest show on earth!” A strong, boisterous voice announces, and the audience goes wild in applause and cheers.

The energy is like this throughout the entire show: constant whooping and hollering at the clowns and lions, and stuntmen shooting out of cannons. It was all a sight to be seen, and even you were completely entranced. 

The lights dim once more as the previous act makes its way out of the center of the ring, and the announcer once again begins to speak. 

“And now, prepare to be completely astounded by our most amazing act yet. Ladies and gentlemen, I advise you to keep your eyes wide open, for you will not want to miss what will surely be the first time you have ever seen such a spectacle. Behold, a man and a spider combined as one!”

The audience cheers, Flash near you stomping his feet on the metal below you as he whoops and hollers. 

Your brows furrow, mind going through all the possibilities of this being possible. Was he a man with extra limbs? Extra eyes on his face? Capable of shooting webbing out of his-

“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you The Amazing Spider-Man!” 

A spotlight focuses on the top of the tent’s ceiling, and the whole crowd collectively gasps when they realize there’s someone there. The Amazing Spider-Man is clad in a blue and red suit with his hands and legs sticking to the top of the tent, causing a riot as he begins to crawl all around it. 

“No fucking way!” Flash shouts in disbelief, and Harry laughs, reaching over to slap him on the shoulder.

“There’s your freak, Thompson,” he says, but you try your best to ignore them as you’re completely captivated by this ‘Amazing Spider-Man’. 

Suddenly, Spider-Man stretches one of his hands out and shoots what looks like a web, attaching it to the other side of the ceiling. 

The audience goes crazy, and your eyes widen in astonishment as Spider-Man jumps and swings down at the crowd. 

He does this for a bit, doing flips and spins as he shoots web after web, swinging and diving down at the audience. Finally, he lands at the center of the ring, and the audience all stands up, including you, to give him a standing ovation. 

He bows, waving his hand before 

And that’s all you could think about as the show carried on: The Amazing Spider-Man who defied logic and did the impossible. It made your heart race, hands vibrating with excitement. You don’t understand why you’re feeling this way, never having been like this before, but when the show ends, a thrill stirs inside of you. Which is why, as you trail behind the group as everyone exits, your eyes immediately scan the crowd for the red and blue suit.

And as if the universe was curious about what the plot would entail if you did, you spot Spider-Man walking towards another tent in the distance. You don’t know what comes over you, certainly not logic, as you had a feeling that left your body as soon as he performed, but you quietly escape the group to pursue him. 

You quickly enter the tent, back against the fabric as you close your eyes and let out a deep breath you were keeping in. Once you open them, you take in your surroundings. There was a humble bed, a rack with men’s apparel, and a small dresser that had seen better days. On top of the dresser, there were photo frames, and you couldn’t stop yourself from grabbing one. The picture was that of an older woman with gray hair and kind eyes. You wondered who she was to this mysterious Spider-Man.

“Uh… can I help you?” a voice booms from above, and your head immediately snaps up with a jump.

There he was, Spider-Man hanging upside down from atop the ceiling. 

You gasp as he lowers himself towards you, big white eyes staring straight into yours. Up close, you can see the details of his suit: the black web details artfully crafted throughout it, the spider emblem displayed in the middle. Your heart races with a mix of fear and excitement. The Amazing Spider-Man was right in front of you, staring you down, yet you couldn’t find it within yourself to look away.

At this, you fiddle with your hands, cheeks warming up at the realization that you, in fact, had no solid reason for approaching him. 

“No, umm…a-actually, I just wanted to say that I very much enjoyed the show. Especially your act,” you state, and you're sure he can tell how flustered you are.

But even if he does, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, even with the mask covering his face, you can tell he seems taken aback. 

“Oh. Uhh…thanks. You know, I never had someone enjoy the show so much that they follow me home, but I'm flattered,” he says, and with a yank of his wrist, the web attached to the roof breaks off, and he flips to a standing, upright position.

Standing in front of you, you feel your breath hitch in your throat, realizing how tall and intimidating he seems. You try to keep your composure. 

“I’m sorry. I know that was very forward of me to do. I just…I honestly don’t know what’s come over me,” you say, realization washing over you. 

You just followed a strange man into his ‘room’. What is going on with you???

“I sincerely apologize. I…I’ll just….”

“Why did you?” he asks, eyes remaining on you, making you feel even smaller than you already felt. “Follow me, I mean. Did you want to see if I had spider eyes or extra limbs I'm hiding? Curious as to how much of a freak I am?” There’s something in his tone that throws you off. A mix of amusement and bitterness. 

You shake your head, fully embarrassed. “N-no. I…I just really liked your act. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I just wanted….” You pause, realizing you had no genuine idea what you intended to happen. For the first time ever, you just did something for no reason at all other than that you just wanted to. 

“I don’t know why I did it. I just…did,” you admit, and he studies you in silence. 

Just when you’re about to let out another apology and excuse yourself out of his tent, he suddenly steps closer to you, causing you to flinch lightly at his rapid movement. He doesn’t utter a word or a sound, his face hovering above yours as he stands just inches away from you. You feel your heart beating fast against your chest, and you're worried he can hear it too.

His masked face tilts slightly, as if he’s drinking you in fully. You should be afraid, you know it, but instead you feel…exhilarated. You hold your breath, waiting for whatever he says next.

“You sound like you make very rational decisions,” he finally says, catching you off guard, and you surprise yourself with a breathless laugh.

“Believe it or not, I normally do. I think the show just messed with my head,” you admit, and you feel a warmth in your chest when you hear him reciprocate the laughter.

“Yeah, this place can do that to you. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Miss…?” he says, and outstretches his hand towards you.

You stare at it for a moment before slipping your hand hesitantly into his, allowing him to give it a shake, and it’s something in his skin touching yours, despite it being completely covered by his suit, that sends shivers down your spine.

You reveal your name to him, which he repeats, and you feel a slight flutter in your chest at hearing his voice say it. He releases your hand from his grip, and you finally avert your eyes from his, knowing you probably look flushed.

“Are you here with your family or…?” 

You look back up at him, not expecting him to ask anything like that.

“Umm..I’m actually here with some friends. And, uh… my fiancé,” you admit, and you think you see his body stiffen.

“Fiancé, huh? I shouldn’t be surprised. A pretty girl like you? Makes sense you’d be spoken for,” he says, and you feel your face heat up.

What you’re feeling at this moment, this bashfulness and warmth that sends shockwaves throughout your entire body, is like nothing you’ve ever felt. It’s foreign, and it makes you nervous, but it also excites you.

This man excites you.

So you have to be pardoned when you make a complete fool of yourself and say:

“I don’t love him, though,” you confess before you even have a chance to realize what you’re saying. 

You immediately wish that the ground would swallow you whole, especially when you can almost feel him being completely thrown off. 

“I-I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I said that. That was completely inappropriate. My apologies, I will be going now…”

“You don’t?” he questions, and despite not being able to see his eyes, you once again can feel something coming off of them. Amusement? Curiosity? 

You process his question as your mouth opens and closes in a failed attempt to form coherent words. 

“I…”

The way he’s seemingly sizing you up now makes you want to run away. 

Oh, what a stupid fool you’ve made of yourself.

Spider-Man shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that. I was just not expecting that response, but I also know it’s not right of me to ask. We can just forget it happened and start over. Hi, I’m Spider-Man,”  he states and lifts his hand to you once again.

You stare at his hand for a moment, slightly hesitant, before a small smile forms on your lips.

“Thank you,” you say gratefully, taking his hand once again.

“I take it this is your first time seeing our show?” he asks, and you nod.

“It’s my first time seeing anything like this, actually. And I have to say, it’s the most thrilling I’ve ever felt,” you confess honestly.

He chuckles softly, finally stepping away from you to stand a comfortable distance.  “Really? Wow, then I’m honored. Although trust me when I tell you that, despite what the boss says, we’re far from the greatest show on earth.”

You giggle at this, surprising yourself with the sound. You can’t remember the last time you ‘giggled’. You didn’t even think you still could.

Suddenly, he pulls his wrist out, and with a thwip, a web shoots out and sticks to the wall of the tent behind him. You gasp as he swings towards it, staring up at him in awe as he lands, hands and feet sticking to it perfectly.

“See, that’s incredible! How do you do that?” you ask, and you feel a giant giddy smile take over your face.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I got bit by a spider not too long ago, and then I started being able to do things like this,” he confesses as he begins to crawl up towards the ceiling and then back down the wall behind you. 

You turn around, eyes fully glued to his every movement. “Amazing,” you say breathlessly, as he lands on his two feet in front of you once again. 

“That’s my name; don’t wear it out,” he jokes, and you laugh.

He’s funny. 

“Are you busy right now?” he asks suddenly. 

Your mouth forms a small ‘o’, suddenly remembering the group you came with. You turn around and slightly lift the fabric of the tent up so you can peep outside. Your eyes search the crowd, and you immediately spot Harry scanning the groups of people who are still exiting the tent. 

“Right. Your fiancé, huh?”

You look back at him, an apologetic expression on your face. 

“Yes. I…thank you for such an amazing show. Really, I think this will be the highlight of my life. I wish you much success, Spider-Man,” you say with a small smile, mustering up the gratitude you feel towards him.

But what you don’t know is that your eyes clearly betray the smile on your face, a sadness he notes immediately.

You turn around, and just as you’re about to exit the tent, you feel him gently pull your arm to turn towards him. 

“Please don’t feel any pressure to accept, but we’re actually going to be here all week. We have a contract to put on the show every night. And since you really enjoyed yourself, I think you should come back tomorrow so I can give you a tour. You know, meet everyone, find out some behind-the-scenes magic. Maybe even let you pet the elephants,” he suggests, and your eyes light up in excitement. 

“R-really?” you ask in awe, and he nods, responding with a simple “Absolutely.”

The sad look in your eyes immediately shifts to excitement, and it stirs butterflies in his chest. Despite having just met you, the light in your eyes and smile felt intoxicating. He wanted to drink it up as much as he could. 

So when you say yes to meeting him tomorrow, he’s ecstatic and promises to give you the best time of your life. You say your goodbyes, and he watches you run off to your fiancé, who looks less than pleased at you having disappeared.

He notices the way you shrink in place, and in his head, he replays your conversation and the sudden mention of not loving your fiancé. It was strange and disturbing, and anyone else would think it too forward, but he understood that you must have been feeling exasperated enough to have confessed that to a stranger like him.

Yet, something about you felt familiar. Like he knew you from beyond this moment. Like this was meant to happen, and he had been waiting for you to stumble into his tent all this time. 

He finally rips the mask off his face and sighs heavily, flopping onto his bed as he faces the top of the tent.

He’s here, right in front of you. You look into his mask lens, mouth open but speechless. What are you doing? You invited him, made him cookies, and now you’re clamming up? This wasn’t how you pictured it.

“Is that for me?” His voice is only slightly mocking as he asks the obvious question, but it's enough to get you out of your sudden nervous freak-out.

With a small sigh, you smile at him and stumble out a quick yes, holding up the cookies for him to take. He accepts the bag with a chipper thanks, then opens it as he moves smoothly down the wall to sit right next to you, his body sticking effortlessly to the brick. You hold your breath as he lifts his mask just enough to reveal the cutest set of lips you’ve ever seen, giving you a slight smirk when he notices you staring. Excitement and nerves make you nearly lose your balance by the window. Part of you had hoped he’d take off the whole mask, but you know that’s unrealistic. Cookies won’t earn you secret identity privileges, and maybe knowing who he really is would ruin the masked man fantasy anyway.

You pause, no, no, no, NO! You are not a web head! You do not fantasize about Spider-Man! During your inner turmoil, you catch him as he is biting off one of his gloves, tucking it away, and eating a cookie. Is it weird to be attracted to hands? Perhaps, but you will just keep it a secret as you memorize the veins of his hands.

Spider-Man scarves down more cookies, licking his fingers and sucks on the tips to make sure all the chocolate is gone… Holy shit… is this like superhero fourpay? Watching the masked hero flash his smile, reveal his sexy hands, then give you a show with his mouth sucking and his tongue… or perhaps you're a lonely pervert soon to be web head….

 This city is changing you.

In your haze of watching him, you can’t control the next sentence from your mouth: “Would you like to wash those down with some milk?” He pauses, surprised at your sudden invitation, before he leans in closer.​

“Don’t you know not to invite strange men into your apartment?”​

You lean in, getting closer to his face, your eyes lingering on his lips, “Well, when that man has saved you before, it makes you trust them…”

He chuckles as his hand moves up to tuck back a piece of unruly hair behind your ear. His hand is warm as it slightly brushes over your skin, and with how close he has gotten to you… You think that he might kiss you…

As you both lean towards each other, time seems to slow down. You try to control your breathing and focus on his lips, but just as you're about to close your eyes to kiss him, he suddenly puts his hand on top of your head and ruffles your hair instead.

What?​

He puts his glove back on and lowers his mask. “I uh… better not, still on duty…”

Your chest aches at the sudden distance between you. “Ah… r-right, right.”

With a nod and a quick thanks, he swings off into the cool city. You take your time to slink off to bed, roaming around your apartment, suddenly feeling incredibly lonely… have you really only made friends with your neighbor and the city's hero? Those two people you can’t typically consider close friends…

Your thoughts go back to Spider-Man…who he is… if you will see him again… learn more about him… and the biggest thing weighing on your mind, have you messed up by seeming to come onto him… and if he even noticed it…

Wednesday night is the slow night of the week. Typically, slower nights are your favorite… but today… Today, the slow atmosphere is forcing you to think about how badly your shameless little attempt at a kiss has led to Spidey not coming around. He hasn’t even left a note!

Groaning you drop your head onto the bar's counter, attempting to ignore its stickiness. Though you deserve the stickiness… You crossed the line and made the hero uncomfortable… UGH, they should kick you out of the city for your flop. 

Melissa, the saint, seems to notice your blight. She waddles over with a rag, nudging you to lift your head.

“Oh… I know that look…boy troubles?”

You look towards her with a frown, “What makes you think so?”

"Nobody puts their face on this counter unless they’re extremely drunk or having personal troubles. So tell me, are you having trouble with your neighbor again?”​

“No! No! Peter is great! He’s… well, he’s my only friend right now. But he's been busy with work lately, and well, there was this… other guy…”

A large squeal from Melissa not only startles you but also the others at the bar. Melissa grabs your hands, “ Not even two weeks here and you have a crush! I want details!” She then pulls you closer, forcing you to look into her eyes, “Seriously, don’t spare a detail.”

You nervously laugh. It’s not that you don’t want to open up, but how do you explain trying to kiss Spider-Man—then getting rejected so hard he’s stopped talking to you?

"Well, I met him in my first week here. He was so kind that I wanted to thank him. When I did, I tried to kiss him… and he basically rejected me. Now, I haven't heard from him."

Melissa shoulders slack “Have you thought that maybe he’s just shy?” - Spidey shy? Hmmm… he seems rather confident. Maybe even cocky…

“Not returning my kiss isn’t what bothers me most. It’s the silence—it feels like losing a friend, and I was already short on those.”

Melissa sighs, slumping down on the stool next to yours and rubbing her belly. "Man... that is an issue..."

A laugh bubbles up from your throat, breaking the tension, "Isn't this where you give me some mature wisdom?"

Gregory kicks open the back room with a box of bottles. “Here’s some wisdom: if that punk is too blind to see what he’s missing, you’re better off without him.” Greg unloads the box, and you quickly help—after all, it’s your job. "Plus, you're a nice girl, do you need friends? You have us, and I just hired a girl your age. She's green but hard-working. I want you to train her; maybe you two can be pals." Greg says casually, but the news has you beaming.

"Another girl! This is great! When does she start?"

Melissa chuckles at your enthusiasm. "Greg, I wanted it to be a surprise! But yes, she goes to university too. She starts tomorrow."

Thursday is usually another lax night, but now you're going to be training the new girl! even though you are still kinda new, but whatever! Another opportunity to make a friend—and a girl at that! Finally! If Greg and Melissa like her, she’s probably nice!

"Well, I am so excited to meet her! I hope we get along! What's her name?"

"Mary Jane, but she goes by MJ."​

Though classes usually drain you, today you’re fueled with excitement. A new friend in the city would be amazing. You hope MJ is nice, as things could get awkward otherwise. You shove in your key at your door, but before you can struggle with the lock, someone opens the door behind you.

"Hey, Cookie, how were classes?"-Cookie?

You turn to see Peter, grinning widely. You raise an eyebrow at him, "Cookie?"

"A nickname, it was that or Dough Wizard."

You lift a hand in mercy, "Cookie is fine... don't call me... Dough Wizard."

"Hm... you not liking it makes me want to call you more..."-typical...

Playfully, you roll your eyes before going back to struggling with your door, "Please tell me you didn't just lay around munching all day."

Peter shakes his head no before knocking on the frame. If you didn't know better, you could guess he's nervous. "Actually, I've been working on some pictures all day... Did you want to come take a look? I mean, I did say if you brought me cookies, I would let you snoop through."

Looking at his work! You have to get ready for work soon... but how could you pass this up? "I could come in and take a look, see if it's any good."

Peter just laughs you off before standing back and opening his door wide for you. At first, you're a bit nervous about going into his place. What if it's a total mess? Or even worse, it's cleaner than yours.

With your worries, you walk in and you're instantly met with a warm atmosphere and the pictures on the walls. One catches your eye—Peter in high school, standing next to a woman who might be his mother.

You don't realize you're staring at it until Peter is stepping closer. "That's me and my aunt May right around the time I graduated."

"It's very sweet. Do you get to see each other a lot?"

Peter smiles, "Yeah, I'm sure you will run into her eventually. We try to eat together at least every two weeks."

Peter leads you to his couch as he opens up his laptop. You think of how lucky he must be to have family so close,

"Maybe you could come eat with us one day... she's quite the cook." Peter couldn’t help the softness in his voice. It's a sweet, vulnerable side to him that you didn't think he had.

"If you wouldn't mind, I would love it. Nothing beats a home-cooked meal."

"Great! I'll let you know when the next time we meet is." Peter finally passes his laptop over to you. The angle of the shot seems impossible, but here it is right in front of you. You have seen Spider-Man more than once, but the pictures still captivate you.

"This can't be real, you have had to edit this."

Peter laughs, "I edit the colors for saturation, but I got lucky with the poses from Spidy."

"He's incredible..." You mutter, and Peter lifts an eyebrow with a smirk. You feel yourself flush from your slight slip. "I mean, the picture is incredible."

You try to laugh it off as you click to another amazing photo, but Peter just nudges you, "Hey, don't forget that I'm the one who makes him look so good."

He does look good... but sitting so close to Peter lets you sneak a peek at him, he looks really good to... Peter turns to you, catching you staring, and you're quick to tap to the next picture, trying to ignore how red you are.

Peter clears his voice before he says your name, but as you're turning to see what he wants to say, your alarm starts to beep.  Shit

You pop up for the door, "Damn, my alarm. I'm sorry, I have to go and get ready for work."

He seems down for a second before he's following you again, "Well, that's not fair."

You pause and turn to look at him, only to see he's once again super close. How does he do that with no noise?

"What's not fair?"

"Well, you got to see my job, wouldn't it only be fair that I see you at yours?"

Wait... he wants to see you at your job? That's what friends do... but tonight you're training the new girl, you won't be able to talk to him…

"Tonight I have training... but tomorrow?"

Peter smiles, and you feel your blood start to race, "Tomorrow then..."

Walking into the bar, it's dimly lit, just as you expected, and it's nice and not at all busy. Bad for tips but great for training!

After putting your stuff away in the back, you walk out and see Greg talking to a girl who looks around your age. This must be MJ! Take a deep breath and be cool!

With a smile, you're hoping it's not too wide, you walk up for an introduction. You're thankful, Greg sees you walking up and gives you a pre-introduction to your own greeting.

The first thing you notice about her is her deep crimson hair, and as she turns with a confident smile, you see her brilliant emerald eyes.

"Hey, I'm Mary, but everyone calls me Mj."

She seems so confident and cool! You manage to give your intro, hoping not to give away your excitement to potentially make a friend your age.

"So any questions before we get started?"

"Nope, I'm told you're the best, so I'm ready for the ropes!"

First, you show her the essentials and the shelf layout. Next, you ask about her knowledge, and you're pretty impressed by how much she knows for being new, but she teasingly jokes that she's been doing this enough to finally make a job of it. She might know more than you did when you started.

When she finally starts helping customers, she’s a natural, even to the regulars who can be a bit short on patience. Melissa makes her way down, and you manage to sneak over, leaving Mj on her own for the first time of the night.

"So, how is training?"

"Great! She's natural and really nice!

"Told you! I'm happy it seems to be working out." Melissa slides up closer with a mischievous smirk. "Onto other news... How are things in the romance department?"

You sigh, "No updates..."

"What about Mr. Grumpy Neighbour?"

"Oh no? Neighbor troubles?" Mj shocks both of you as she joins the conversation with a smile.

"Well, it was looking bad, but I think we are finally getting along. He actually might pop by Friday."

"Oh? A work day? Just make sure it isn't a distraction." Melissa nudges you.

"Just friends, I refuse to cross that line."

They both laugh.

"Well, it might be worth it if he's cute enough." Mj winks before walking to check the customers one more time. She's going to get along great here.

Turns out having more help does ease the workload, but it’s nice to have someone to communicate with to pass the time. It turns out you two have a lot in common, and she even told you all the dos and don'ts for surviving the city. She even planned a day to take you to all her favorite local spots! Thank God She got hired here; you might actually stand a chance here! And though Spidey didn't show up by the end of your shift, you didn't have to walk alone; you had a friend with you!

Friday night, and of course, it's completely packed. You're happy Mj has been such a fast learner because it's been great not having to constantly check up on her. The drinks are flowing, the tips are coming in, but you're still nervous... and Milessa notices…

She slides over to where you're currently mixing. "Don't worry... he will show..."

You let out a laugh, trying not to betray your inner thoughts, "I'm not. He either will or won't... It's nothing to me."

"Uh huh... and you have been watching the door for what reason then?"

"Well, we are kinda friends... if he comes in, I don't want to miss him."

"So what does your friend look like?"

"Kinda tall, brown hair that's always a mess... and the really nice brown eyes that you-"

As you're talking, you notice Melissa's grin getting wider, and you stop yourself before you get carried away. "Taller and nerdish with a dash of cockiness, so when you spot that, you've got him."

"Well, I don't know for sure, but I think your 'friend' has walked in..." She points you to the door before laughing and leaving you to scramble as Peter walks in.

When he sees you, he gives you a smile you just can't help but mimic; somehow, he squeezes in to meet you.

"Okay, what are you guys serving to make it this busy?"

You continue to pour for the people crowding, “We are just that good."

He eyes you suspiciously, "Sure you're not just over pouring?"

You playfully shrug, "Well, you will have to order something to find out."

Peter leans in closer to the bar, and you can catch a whiff of what smells like cologne. It makes you want to get closer to know for sure, but you hold back.

"Surprise me, let's see if you have that bartender sixth sense I've heard of?"

"You have never heard that, it's not a thing."

He just waves you off with a smile, "Of course it is now. Mix, shake, or whatever you do."

You take a minute, ignoring all the other patrons trying to get their orders. If you had to make Peter a drink, what would it be? It's definitely an on-the-spot order that is stumping you a little, and the fact that he's staring you down with an adorable smug grin right now is not making it any easier.

Then duh, it clicks.

A swig here, a tip there, and shake then serve, you slide him over a drink that he instantly catches.

"Manhattan, and not for what you're thinking, it's sharp and witty with a hint of sweetness. But only a touch."

Peter says nothing as he eyes the drink before taking a sip. You would never admit to saying you're looking forward to what he has to say, but you're dying to know!

He brings the drink down from his lips, and he gives you a serious stare. "That... was really good. Baking and bartending, now I need to see how you cook."

You scoff, "Me cook for you? No, you will cook for me... It's only fair."

"We might be able to work something out then."

You two get lost in conversation before a gruff voice startlingly interrupts you,

"So is this the friend I heard about?" Greg comes over, eyeing Peter with suspicion. You're quick to introduce the two; you can't help but want to laugh at how, even though Greg is your boss, he comes off as protective as he questions Peter.

During questioning, Greg asks about work, and when Peter says 'photographer,' Greg practically lights up. He slams his hand on the bar, startling everyone, "Do you do commissions?"

Peter turns to you for an answer, but you can only shrug. "Not generally, but I would be willing to."

It was the correct answer.

Naturally, you eventually move away from Peter, leaving him to take care of other customers. You would like nothing more than to just chat and hang out, but you are at work, and he's a friend; he must understand. And though you're busy, you're doing your best to pop over to his spot and chat and laugh before running off again. But when you turn, you see him and MJ sharing a laugh. As she slides a new glass over to him, you feel a slight ache watching them; you must have just missed topping him off…

Oh well... Maybe all three of you will be friends...

​

Tags:

“I’m just trying…” you muttered, humming softly as you attached a clip to it. “To see if it’s a conductor.”

Peter snorted as he came behind you, letting his arms wrap around your torso, softly pressing kisses to your temple. “Why do you need it as a conductor, baby?”

“To see if I can put its powers into something like a bracelet or something,” you muttered in response, heavily focused until it blitzed slightly. You gasped when it did so, and Peter jumped slightly as flickers of gold started to pour out through the ring, proceeding to sink down into some sort of ring-like portal.

“Son of a bit-”

Peter didn’t get to finish before you both fell down what seemed to be a portal like when Peter fell through one a few months ago and helped save another universe. Peter quickly uses his powers to shoot a web at you, pulling you into his chest and twisting so he makes impact with the floor instead of you.

He grunted as you looked around, inhaling as you sat up in his lap, letting your eyes trail the posters in the high apartment that seemed as though it cost more than all of Peter’s lab. “Where are we?”

Peter looks around, sighing thankfully. “Oh thank fuck.”

“What? Peter, where are we?” You asked as you slowly stood up, helping your boyfriend up as he softly kissed your head.

“We’re on the other Peter’s earth,” he mumbled into your hair, thankful that you were okay. “Remember I told you about him?”

You swallowed, about to nod before someone yelled.

“Peter 3!”

Your boyfriend pulled away, smiling when he saw the other brunette. “Peter 1!”

He was about to give your boyfriend a hug before he noticed you, his face immediately flushing. “Y/N?!”

Peter 3 paused, looking from Peter 1 from you to Peter. “You have a Y/N here?”

Peter 1 swallowed, nodding — he had literally just got off to the thought of you. Well, his you.

“Oh, you’re Peter 1!” You said as you stepped forward, offering your hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you! My Peter has told me all about you.”

Your Peter grinned when you called him ‘my Peter,’ watching as you stepped forward to greet the other Peter. Still, Peter 1 was shocked when you touched him, the firm shake of your hand making his jaw go slack.

“This must be Tony Stark’s empire you took over,” your Peter said as you stepped back, face scrunching slightly.

“Who’s Tony Stark?”

“His… dad, I believe,” your Peter said as you looked around. “We don’t have a Tony Stark. Or, a famous one at least.”

“Wait! Do they have Goblin?” You asked as you turned around, almost as though you needed to prepare before your Peter laughed as he walked over to you.

“You don’t have to worry, baby,” he whispered, softly kissing your lips as Peter 1 looked away, putting his hand over his groin area to try and hide himself from getting hard again. Your Peter noticed this, smiling as he pulled away and looked over at Peter 1.

“You mind if we crash here? Until we figure out how to get back,” he hummed as he softly brushed his hand down your back. “My darling girl was trying to put the ring’s power into some bracelets.”

Peter 1 nodded frantically. “Y-Yeah, of course,” he whispered, swallowing. “I’ll call Dr. Strange so he can get you both back.”

Your Peter grinned as you yawned into his chest. “Thanks, kid.”

Peter 1 was upset. Very upset.

For one, you were even nicer than he could ever imagine – and he hated it.

For two, you both were stuck here until the wall between the worlds were thin enough again.

For three, the walls in the Stark Tower were thin with his enhanced hearings. Very, very thin. So much so that he was jacking himself off everytime you both had sex, just like he was doing right now.

He knew you were on your third orgasm. Peter 3 had barely just came, and you were about to cum, but Peter 3 knew just what he was doing.

“Come on baby, come on… moan my name, moan my name baby,” he groaned, the squelching of your pussy bouncing off the walls. He could only imagine how wet you were, the wet thrusts matching his pace of Peter 1 pumping his cock.

He had came just as many times as you had, mainly because he was so desperate to fuck you. What kind of coincidence was it that Peter 3 and you were together?

The thought made him pump his fist faster. He couldn’t stop, he was so so desperate to feel you.

“P-Peter, Peter!” You wailed, sobbing as you threw your head back, the bed continuing to slam into the wall. “I-I’m going to cum!”

Your Peter laughed. “Aw baby, you’re such a good girl… keep moaning my name, moan our name…”

That made Peter 1s eyes fly open.

Oh, he truly knew what he was doing.

It didn’t take Peter 1 long to get up, not even covering his cock as he walked through the halls and banged on the door.

“Ah, took him long enough, my darling…”

“Fuck you!” Peter 1 yelled, not even waiting for Peter 3 to open the door because he knew damn well he wouldn’t pull out of you – because Peter 1 wouldn’t either – stepping inside and stripping his clothes.

“W-We had a bet,” you giggled tiredly, inhaling. “Peter already stretched me out from behind.”

So that’s where he was fucking you earlier.

And so, Peter 1 wasted no time walking toward the bed before your Peter fixed the position of both of you, pulling you into his lap, spreading your legs with his thighs. “Like hell I was going to let you fuck her pretty cunt.”

To be completely honest, Peter 1 would take whatever he could get.

So he kneeled behind you, slowly steadying himself before snapping his hips forward to push into your ass. A loud wail left your lips, your teasing finally biting you in the ass as both Peter’s slowly started to fuck into you in sync.

Peter 1s thrusts were a lot more unsteady, almost as though he was still questioning what was going on, but your Peter’s thrusts were strong and rough.

He looked so pretty under you, sweat dripping down his temple as Peter 1 slowly fucked you from behind, moaning loudly as he kissed your shoulder blade. He was starting to get rougher, and the fact that two men were fucking you at now very different paces made your mind blur as their hands roam your body.

At this point, you truly were just a toy for them – and they were determined to use you like that.

“Come on baby, does it feel too good that you’re silent? Huh? Make some fucking noise,” your Peter basically snarled as his teeth graze your jaw, but that’s truly what you were feeling – you felt so good that you could barely make any noise, only with your mouth agape.

A soft sob fell from your mouth as you finally gave into your pleasure, your mouth wide open as you started to groan loudly. Your stomach felt like it was being penetrated, but it didn’t hurt at all, or you didn’t register that it was hurting.

Their hands squeezed and groped your body, their lips kissing every inch of your skin as you let out another sob. “Fuck, fuck! I-I gotta cum, I need to cum, please let me cum!”

Both Peters basically laughed in unison, a groan falling from your Peter's lips.

“Cum. We have until that portal gets figured out to fuck you.”

I do not ever give consent to my work being published on other platforms or being translated at any point, even if it is a request. If my work is on any other platform, it’s without my permission. Your media consumption is not my responsiblity.

“That much caffeine could kill a horse,” Peter jokes as you pop the tab on your energy drink. Most days, you try to limit your caffeine, but you’ve been getting less than five hours of sleep for the past week and you’re nearing desperation. You feel sorry for Peter, the sweetest boy imaginable having to deal with you and all your irritability, but he still presses a kiss to your cheek as he leaves the kitchen.

“It’s like I’m cursed or something,” you complain after taking a long pull from your can, relishing in the carbonation. You’re sure Peter’s tired of your grousing, but he still listens to every grumble, nodding sympathetically at your exhaustion.

“Maybe we can watch a movie later, it’ll help you relax even if you don’t sleep,” he suggests, and you know how much this kills him, knowing you’re uncomfortable and tired and upset all the time and not being able to do anything about it. He’s suggested everything to you, going out and buying supplements and sleep aids and blackout curtains just to try and see if they help you sleep even an hour longer. It melts your heart every time, almost as much as it breaks your heart seeing his disappointed frown when you tell him it didn’t help. You’re just waiting for the crash, knowing that soon enough your body will lose its fight and you’ll sleep soundly for a few nights, only for the cycle to start all over again.

“I’ll stop and buy snacks on my way home,” you respond, if only to see the way his smile lights up his entire face. You always think he looks beautiful, whether he’s laughing or crying or anything in between, but something about his smile makes him ethereal, and you do your best to make him smile as much as possible with the selfish motivation of ogling him just for a moment.

When you finally make it to the end of the day, exhaustion weighing you down like a ton of bricks, you make sure to pick up Peter’s favorite snacks, almost certain he has one of your favorite movies all queued up for your return. Upon your return, you’re a little shocked at the way he’s transformed your living room into your own home theater, making good use of the blackout curtains he’d bought and piling your couch with more pillows and blankets than two people could possibly need. He’s lit candles all throughout the room, casting a warm glow and just enough light for you to see the takeout spread across the coffee table, which with the snacks you’d bought, is almost more food than necessary.

In the gentle glow, you see him waiting for you, bringing your favorite drink out from the kitchen. You’re sure your relief is palpable, certain he can see the way your shoulders relax and your breathing settles, just a bit, at how wonderfully relaxing he’s made your apartment and how excited you are to finally be home. You set the snacks down, arranging them on the coffee table to compliment the takeout, and Peter shakes his head when he sees the spread, as if you’re ridiculous for buying his favorites when he must have spent hours making the living room as comfortable as possible.

You’re vindicated when the opening credits to one of your favorite movies rolls, and sitting next to Peter under your mountain of blankets, eating your favorite food with your favorite boy by your side, you’re more relaxed than you’ve been in weeks. A few minutes in, with a full belly and tired feet, your eyes start to feel like lead, and it takes more energy than you have to keep them open. Despite the pile of pillows, your head slumps against Peter’s shoulder, and he’s far too caring, far too relieved to see you asleep, that he wouldn’t ever dare to move.

It’s an awkward angle, but he presses a kiss to your forehead anyway, sweet and featherlight in an attempt not to wake you. He winces when you stir, eyelids fluttering, but you settle quickly, and he resists the urge to sigh in relief, certain the movement would only wake you.

“there’s a guy?” you could practically hear your friend’s raised eyebrow but you continued your ramble, not stopping for her to elaborate on her thoughts.

“you know, i don’t really trust any guy to teach me anything.” you entered your apartment, placing the keys in the keyholder and kicking off your shoes, “they’re just not that good at teaching.”

“maybe he’s a cute guy?” she chuckled at the other end.

“it won’t matter if he’s not a good guy!” you sighed, plopping down at your couch, your legs instinctively going up as you placed them one over the other on the couch.

“what if he’s a really good guy.” your friend could not have sounded more suggestive and you almost wanted to gag at that comment.

“gwendolyne.” as you’d guessed, a whine sounded from the other side of the phone. she hated when anyone called her, her full name.

“it’s gwen for you. anyway, just give it a try and if you don’t like his way of teaching, then you can just ask for another coach.” she said and you thought it over. she was right, you could always ask for a different person to teach you.

“thanks, gwen.” you smiled, “okay, i have to go now but i’ll call you later.”

the next day you were on your way to the community club pool and even though you had hated waking up at 6 am, you were also a little excited– and nervous– to experience something new.

you entered the facility, carrying your swimming costume and other equipment in your tote bag. as the swimming pool came into view, your eyes searched for your trainer– he has to be around here somewhere.

“excuse me, miss?” the voice came from behind and you turned to find the source. your mouth parted to say something but no words came out. if anyone else was in your place, you thought, they would have had the same reaction. a gorgeously tanned guy, brown mop of hair swept across his forehead in a way that was messy but as if on purpose. and oh, he was not wearing a t-shirt.

his swim trunks hung from his waist perfectly, carved abs and a chiselled torso above that. you were almost mesmerised by just one look of him.

“um… you’re (y/n), right?” you noticed his tinted cheeks and snapped yourself out of your daydream.

“that’s me.” you answer, standing up straighter, “you must be mr. parker?”

“oh, call me peter, please.” he smiled at you and you were bound to give him one back, “why don’t you go and change and we’ll get started.”

“yes.” you nodded, quickly making your way to one of the changing rooms. your mind was racing with thoughts as you changed into the swim gear. he seemed in his early twenties, very close to your age but finding him attractive felt against your morals. you were supposed to have a professional relationship with him and if he was a good teacher, you would just suppress your feelings deeper inside you than the depth of this swimming pool.

“all ready.” you said, walking out from the changing room only to find peter was already in the swimming pool, his hair falling in front of his eyes as he emerged out of the pool. he pushed his hair back, away from his forehead, as it sat perfectly over his head.

“hey!” peter gave you a smile as you walked to the side of the pool where the pool ladder was situated, “you excited for your first lesson?”

“a little nervous.” you chuckled, telling him the truth for some reason. you should probably trust the guy if he was going to be the one who pulled you out in case you were drowning.

“hey. no need for that.” his voice was comforting as you climbed down into the pool, the water level reaching your chest, “just breathe… while your head is above water.”

“what?” you couldn’t help but chuckle at his little quip.

“sorry, that was a silly joke. anyway, let’s start with holding our breath underwater, alright?”

“you’re the boss” you smiled.

“okay, i’m not the kind of person to be all like, ‘i told you so’ but i told you so!” gwen exclaimed before you even finished your sentence.

“i was going to say he’s a good teacher!” you were back at your apartment and it was after you had breakfast that you received a call from gwen.

“and?” she waited for you to go on as if she already knew.

“and… he was kind of cute.”

“i knew it!” she cheered and you couldn’t help but laugh along with her, “you should totally kiss him.”

“i- he doesn’t even like me! i want to keep it professional.” you had said it with an affirmative tone but you doubted your own voice.

“maybe tomorrow?” you groaned at that.

“you’re mad. bye.” you chuckled.

“maybe tomorrow you can make out in the-” that was the last you heard of your friend’s voice before you cut the call.

the next day you made it to the pool on time. there was no sign of peter and you didn’t know whether you should get in the pool or not. you waited, sitting patiently on the bench near the pool until you caught sight of peter. he was carrying a bunch of equipment almost too much for a single person to carry.

you rushed up to him, “hey.” you said. he smiled when he saw you.

“sorry, i’m late.”

you just shook your head at his apology and held out your arms, “need some help?” him handing you a few of the kickboards and a few goggles.

the two of you carried those to the store room and placed the certain items in their assigned boxes. peter checked the time on his phone once you both were done, “we only have 40 minutes left, why don’t you go change and we’ll start right where we left yesterday?”

you gave him a nod and quickly went to change into your swimming clothes.

once the two of you were inside the pool, peter told you to hold onto the wall, “i need you to relax your body and hold your breath for as long as you can.”

you nodded and slid your pair of goggles over your eyes before doing as he told you. estimatedly 30 seconds later, your head was out of the water as you released your breath, standing beside your instructor.

“good! that was good. almost three seconds more than yesterday.” he gave you a grin and you chuckled, “now what i want you to do is breathe out through your nose slowly while you’re underwater.” he explained.

again you did as he said, pulling yourself up every time you needed a breath.

“don’t push your limits.” peter said once after you had tried to hold your breath for longer than 35 seconds, “my arm is right here in case you need to hold onto something.” a blush appeared over his cheeks as he realised what that must’ve sounded like, “you know! i-in case you need help.”

maybe it was you, reading in between the lines, but the chuckle he let out made him sound kind of nervous. you were definitely not going to tell gwen about this.

over the next two days, you continued to practice breath holding underwater until peter proposed you move on to the next step. as soon as you entered the pool that day, it was the first thing he said.

“leave the wall?” you gave him a look of uncertainty, “are you sure i’m ready for that?”

peter nodded simply and held out his hands for you to take, “here, i’ll help you.” you took his hands but he could probably notice your nervousness– which he didn’t need to know was partly because both your hands were in his– and hesitancy as he said, “just trust me, okay?”

“i trust you.” you replied before his sentence was even finished.

he smiled, pulling you away from the edge of the pool slightly, “i won’t leave your hands until you’re completely ready.” he smiled and guided you to relax your body and let it float just like you had been doing up until now. this time, however, it was peter’s skilled hands that you were holding instead of the dull wall.

he walked back, pulling you along the surface of the body as you let yourself float against the water. It was only a few seconds in that you pulled yourself up from the water, holding tightly onto peter’s hands, “s-sorry, i-” you expected him to be frustrated or scold you for not doing better. but he didn’t do any of that.

“you okay?” he squeezed your hands gently, “did you accidentally breathe in water? it happens when you’re a beginner.”

“i’m okay. i just thought i was going down instead of floating.” you chuckled a little awkwardly.

“oh! that means that you need to push your head further down. if your head is down, your legs will automatically float close to the surface.” he explained, all the while holding your hands and you nodded, letting him know that you were listening to him even though you were zoning out, a fluttering heart in your chest as you outlined his slightly wet curls.

thankfully you had understood the basic points of what he was trying to explain to you which made your session go smoothly from that point.

when the two of you were out of the pool and the kids had started filling in, you walked over to peter, who was standing with another guy and talking to him.

when you reached the two men chatting over whatever they were chatting over. the other guy nudged peter’s side with his elbow, giving him a smirk as soon as you reached there. He quickly turned, eyes slightly wide, “oh. hey (y/n)!” he seemed nervous again but the other guy cleared his throat before you could say anything, “right! (y/n), this is my friend ned. ned, (y/n).”

ned leeds. you’d read his name on the list of employees outside the community club office, just below peter’s name.

“i’ve heard a lot about you, (y/n).” ned gave you a smile, extending his hand for a handshake.

“oh?” you looked over at peter, shaking ned’s hand, but the brunette’s head was already turned towards his friend in what you could only assume a warning. it made you chuckle, “i teach the kids.” ned gave you a smile and you could tell why he was the one assigned to teach the kids. he seemed like the kind of person who was good at making people around him comfortable just with his presence.

“you wanted to say something?” peter was the one to ask after ned parted ways with the two of you to look after all the kids– there were way too many.

“i just wanted to ask whether i did well today…” you gave him a little smile.

“oh, you’re a natural.” he grinned back, “i was impressed!”

“yeah?” you asked, not really believing his words, even though a warmth covered your whole body. you felt a deep sense of accomplishment and the smile on your face increased tenfold.

“yeah.” he confirmed, a smile covering his own face.

“thank you.” you smiled, eyes staring into his beautiful brown ones, “you look nicer when i’m not wearing the goggles.”

peter looked at you, “w-what?”

was that a nervous ‘what’ or a disgusted ‘what’? god, had you messed up already? how could you have said that out loud? it was probably one of those stupid moments of confidence boost where you ended up telling an answer to the whole class in a very firm voice only to be told it was wrong.

you gave him a pursed smile, “uh.. i should get going. see you then.”

the look of stun was still written all over his face as you turned to leave, but you didn’t give him a chance to say something. you weren’t ready to face rejection from a guy you hadn’t even asked out. not that you were thinking about asking him out. for all you cared, you didn’t care at all.

you felt a small splash of water on your leg, wetting your jogging shoes. you let out an offended, “hey!” before you noticed the little girl leaning against the wall of the pool. you raised your eyebrows at her as she beckoned you closer with her little hand. you leaned forward in a squat position in front of her to let her say whatever it was she wanted, “hey kid, is everything alright?”

“i’m cassie.” she introduced herself before asking, “is he your boyfriend?”

even though peter could not be seen around anymore, you were certain whom she was referring to.

you chuckled and shook your head, “oh, no. he’s not my boyfriend.” yet you wanted to add but somehow refrained yourself from doing so.

“i think he is cute.” she gave you a challenging look, making you chuckle at her adorableness.

“hey, i’ll back off if you like him.” you promised, giving her a finger gun. she shrugged.

“if you really like him then, i can let you have him.” she said, her elbows holding onto the pavement that was beneath your feet.

“oh, really? that’s very sweet of you, cassie.” you smiled at her.

“but you have to buy me ice-cream.” she grinned before quickly turning away and swimming away at the sight of ned walking towards that side of the pool.

it was raining heavily the next day. you thought to call peter before going to the pool unannounced in case it was closed. you called him once at 6:23 am but his phone was busy. who could he be talking to this early in the morning?

he called you back at 6:24. you picked up after counting to five, not wanting to seem too desperate, “hello?”

“hey, (y/n).” you could hear the small smile he was holding on the other end, making you think if he had forgiven you for what you blurted out yesterday, “what’s up?”

“hey... peter, it’s raining pretty heavily, are you going to the swimming pool today?”

“oh, i’m already in! but i understand if you can’t make it today.” he stated and you nodded, realising after a moment that he couldn’t see you.

“yeah, i can’t today… and tomorrow’s sunday so i guess i’ll see you monday?” you asked.

“sounds good!” he said.

you held the phone close to your ears, not really knowing what else to say. you couldn’t think of anything as you silently heard all the background commotion on his end. he didn’t say anything either and for a moment the thought that he didn’t want to end the call either crossed your mind.

but you pushed that out of your head.

“i’m sorry about yesterday.” you finally spoke, “i shouldn’t say that to-”

“i appreciated it… it just came as a surprise.” he chuckled, “and you left too quickly.”

you couldn’t help the smile that covered your face after hearing his comment, “sorry about that.”

“hey, stop apologising already. maybe i can give you a compliment next time so that we’re even.”

it was your turn now to fall silent. your heart skipped three beats at once as he said that. despite that, you found yourself smiling, “sure, i don’t see why not.”

there was another beat of silence but peter decided to break it before it could get uncomfortable, “so, you busy?”

and so the conversation continued. you told him you were just looking out to the street where small water puddles had already formed. you told him that you loved the rain. he told you that he hated it since the time it rained so much on his birthday that he was stuck at school for five straight hours until his uncle ben came to pick him up.

it was almost an hour later when you had to excuse yourself from peter as your doorbell rang.

“i’ll see you monday!” he said before hanging up and you quickly made your way towards the door. whoever it was had rung the doorbell twenty times in five seconds.

so probably gwen.

“i cannot believe this!” was the first thing she said as she welcomed herself into your house. no ‘hello’s or ‘how are you’s, “a car went right past me and almost stained my lab coat!”

“um... good morning to you too?” you chuckled, watching her get comfortable over your couch as she removed her shoes. she was clearly going through a rough week, “what’s wrong?”

you sat over the couch and her head immediately rested on your lap, “i can’t smell any more chemicals. my brain will explode.” she complained as you ran your hand through her hair.

“you were at the lab all night again?”

“slept on the couch” she sighed and relaxed further, feeling your fingers thread through her hair comfortingly.

“maybe you should slee-”

“coffee.” she mumbled, “i need some coffee.”

getting up from the couch, she made her way into the familiar kitchen, the white tiles reflecting enough light for her to wince and squint her eyes.

“are you sure you should have coffee right now?” you asked, leaning against the counter as she pulled out her favourite coffee mug from your cupboard.

“yes.”

soon the two of you settled back onto the couch, this time with your respective coffee mugs as you talked about her work. then gwen decided to shift the conversation to you, “so how’s swimming going?”

“it’s alright.” you tried to hold back your smile but gwen kept staring at you, making you break out laughing.

“and how’s your sexy trainer?” she took a sip from her coffee unbothered whereas you almost choked on yours, coughing slightly, “come on, you can tell me.” she pushed a little.

“he’s alright.” you replied, trying to sound disinterested but who were you fooling. gwen knew you better than that.

“so, when are you asking him out?” once again you almost spat your coffee out, deciding to place the coffee mug on the coaster at your coffee table for good.

“okay, you need to stop. we’re just friends. he’s supposed to be my trainer, that’s all.” you rambled out and gwen gave you a look that told you to cut through all the bullshit, “and i like him.” you whined, falling against the armrest of your couch.

“ask. him. out.” your best friend said, emphasizing on each of her word.

“he doesn’t even-”

“how do you know! have you ever tried… oh, i don’t know, asking him out?”

you rolled your eyes at her stubbornness. it was a trait you simultaneously loved and hated about her, “i’m not doing that.”

“ask him out.”

“what if he has a girlf-”

“ask him out and he’ll tell you.”

“but what if he doesn’t want to-”

“ask him out!”

“gosh! gwen i can’t.” you shook your head, mostly to yourself.

“(y/n). come on. ask him out before someone else does.” gwen said, a soft look etched over her features despite being deeply sleep-deprived, “have faith in yourself.” she smiled

“i-i’ll see…” you gave her a smile back, feeling an ounce of confidence, “maybe i will ask him out.”

“now that’s my girl!” gwen grinned and threw her arms around you.

you spent your sunday taking gwen out to dinner and then shopping because she deserved the break and you knew the second monday’s first minute illuminated on the digital clock beside her bed, she would start worrying about working her ass off on her new project.

and you were right as she called you just as you were about to leave your house for your swimming class, complaining about the horrible coffee in the lab, “i would have picked up some on my way here but it was too early.” she groaned.

“maybe i can bring some over after swimming today?” you offered, locking the door to your apartment and throwing the keys into your bag.

“unless you’re too busy with your peter guy?” gwen snorted at the groan you let out at her comment, “you’re asking him out today.”

“yeah, yeah, yeah.” you dismissed and quickly added, “and i’m never too busy for you, you know that.”

“i know.” she said, making you smile. the two of you bid each other a goodbye once she had to get back to work.

you found peter sitting in the same spot you had waited for him that day as soon as you reached the pool. you quickly changed and walked back out, noticing that he was still busy scrolling through his phone. walking up to him, you tried to not look into his phone as he texted someone, “watcha doing?”

he jumped at your question, looking up at you with wide, brown eyes, “oh. you scared the crap out of me.” he chuckled, registering that you had asked him a question, “i was just texting my aunt… about groceries and stuff.”

“oh.” you said, your mouth forming an ‘o’ shape.

“so, you ready?” he asked and you nodded.

You climbed down the stairs of the pool ladder until your feet touched the tiled floor. Peter jumped in after you.

“i think it’s time we started kicking.” was the first thing he said, “i’ll show you how it’s done then you can do it too.” you nodded and watched as he dived inside, kicking the water with his legs as he slowly moved forward, leaving behind small splashes in his wake.

swimming back towards you quickly, he wiped back his hair from his forehead and you somehow forced yourself to not lend him a hand, “your turn!”

you gave him a smile, breaking out of your chain of thoughts, “okay then.” taking a deep breath you got ready to go underwater but peter’s hand wrapping around your wrist stopped you. you looked at him this time with slightly widened eyes, “uh…?”

“you’re not wearing your glasses.” he laughed and this time you were pretty sure that he seemed nervous as he held onto your wrist.

“oh.” you realised and pfft-ed at yourself, “silly me.”

he released your hand then but before you could do anything to adjust your goggles, his hands went up, fingers grabbing at the edge of the eyewear, gently propping it over your eyes carefully, “that okay?”

you weren’t quite sure if you’d noticed right but just before the glasses covered your eyes, a tint of pink covered his cheeks. or it could have been just your rose tinted goggles. damn uv protection.

“o-oh. yep.” you replied, feeling your cheeks heat up. he smiled sweetly at you and you almost wanted to grab his pretty face right there and kiss over those upturned lips of his. but you couldn’t. not like this.

“you okay?” he asked, looking slightly concerned but you quickly nodded, not feeding into his worries.

“yeah.” you dived in then, keeping your hands straight as you kicked your legs up and down. you remembered his advice for keeping your head low and you applied that. almost thirty to forty seconds later, you resurfaced and took a deep breath, “was that alright?”

“yeah! that was good for a first try!” he gave you an encouraging smile, “just let your waist move freely.”

“how?” you asked, a little confused.

“is it okay if i place my hands on your waist?” the question made you cough even though you were several inches away from water. peter’s hands raised in defence, “i don’t need to-”

“no, it’s fine!” you blurted out, feeling on fire which even the water surrounding you couldn’t put out, “you can.”

“okay, just do what you were doing, i’ll guide you.” he said, seeming as nervous as you were feeling.

you did as told and this time peter’s hands placed themselves on either side of your waist as you started kicking. he helped you with the movement, moving your waist a little in tandem with your legs.

after the hour was finally up and you had changed into your regular clothes, you found peter talking to ned and contemplated going up to him for all of fifteen seconds before deciding to go up to him.

you waited until ned was gone and walked in his direction, “peter?”

he immediately looked in your direction, “oh, hey… you’re leaving?”

“yeah. well, i actually… i needed to talk to you about something.” your heart was going to jump out of your chest. you couldn’t even meet his eyes, your gaze fixed upon the dusky floor.

“what is it, (y/n)?” you could feel his curious eyes over yourself.

“well, i… it’s kinda…” you waved your hands around, trying to find the right words to say until he disrupted you mid-sentence.

“is it about that compliment i owe you?” he said, letting out a small laugh. he was probably trying to lighten the mood but this was not helping your situation, “well, i’d say you’re really-”

“i kinda like you-” you shut yourself up after that, looking up to see his reaction. his face changed from one of shock to a confused one.

“wait, you-”

“i thought i would keep a professional relationship with you. but i… you’re just really pretty and it’s unfair!” you complained, not holding back now. this was your last chance. you considered he might not want you around here anymore.

“how is it unfair, exactly?” you looked up at him to catch his raised eyebrows, however, a small smile played over his lips.

“well, for starters i wish you would go out with me. but that’s-”

“yes.”

“what?” you were sure you looked like a raccoon caught red-handed stealing food.

“i wanna go out with you. afterall i do owe you a compliment.” he smiled, making you smile too.

“i might owe a little girl an ice-cream.”

———

“Babe can I come in?” you asked after knocking on his door. 

“Come in” 

You opened the door, entered the room, you closed it behind you. He turned his chair to face you, smiling tenderly. 

“What’s up baby?” he asked

“I miss you” you pout, walking up to him. He whispered come here, patting his thighs. You straddle him in his desk chair. His firm arms wrapped around your waist as you place your arms around his neck. 

Resting your head on his shoulder you ask him, “ Baby, are you done yet? I’m bored.”

He’s stroking his thumb on your hipbone, “Not yet baby. I’m almost done.” you leave small kisses around his neck and behind his ears begging him to hurry up and play with you. He whines into your ears, feeling his warm breath on your face, “You're not playing fair”

You laugh. He looks at you lovingly, drinking in your soft joyful laughter. He leaves a short sweet kiss on the tip of your nose. Looking up at his beautiful delicate brown eyes, your lips met in a gentle embrace that quickly turned into an intense heated battle. You grind in his lap, biting his bottom lip, he lets out a faint gasp. Your tongue meets his, deepening the kiss, and his hips jerk up. You can feel his hard cock grazing your heated center. Moaning, you slowly pulled away, breathing deeply into each other's faces. You move to suck and nibble on his right ear, and he whimpers weakly, groping your ass, and pushing you further into his tented crotch. You lick and suck on his neck down to where his shoulders meet leaving a wet trail. You push and roll your hips down into him savoring the sounds he makes.

“Don’t you miss this baby?” you teased. “Don’t you want to feel your wet pussy? It’s all yours to take, play with, and cum in. I miss your thick, heavy cock. Please play with me. Let me hear you” Peter groans deeply. He whines as you bend down to suck his nipples through his shirt.

“Fuck, baby…. You're gonna make me cum.” Peter cried out. You kiss him deeply and messily, grinding harder into his cock you feel it throbbing and twitching under you. You can feel your own panty wet and drenched, sticking to you.

“Baby, please keep rubbing me….please, please. I'm so close. Let me cum please.” he begged. You suck on his Adam's apple, grinding and moving your hips intensely on his cock. 

“Baby, I-” Peter mewled, throwing his head back. You feel him grope your ass forcefully, his hips jerking up in a powerful thrust as he cums. You hear him moan and whimper above you. Peter comes undone intensely, soiling his pants with cum. You smile at his dazed face proudly. You’re both breathing heavily after grinding and jerking on each other. Peter looks down at you smiling goofily. 

“I could take a break,” he said. You let out a loud, hearty laugh.

“Have what?” Peter called from the kitchen, finishing the last of the dishes in the sink. 

“A simple life like the women in Bridgeton.” You huffed, pausing the show and throwing the remote on the sofa. 

Peter turned off the running water and placed a final plate in the dishwasher, “You mean like when women were property to their husbands and had to dedicate their lives to their children?”

“Haha, very funny, Mr. feminist,” you remarked, rolling your eyes as you shoved Peter’s side as he sat down. “I’m serious, Peter.”

Peter rubbed his side as he sat up to look at you, “What seems so simple about Bridgerton? From watching it with you, if anything, courting seems way too complicated.”

“If you come from the wrong family, it is. But I want to be like them. Socializing and trying on beautiful dresses each day, and then dancing the night away when it’s all over,” you stated to Peter, pushing your hair further behind your face as Peter rested a gentle hand on your leg. 

Peter grinned, cupping your cheek in his hand, “Really?”

“Really.”

“Ok,” he stated before pushing his glasses further on his face and placing a quick pat on your leg. 

“Where are you-“

“I’ll be right back.”’

You pressed your back to the sofa for a few moments, quirking a brow as you listened to the movement from upstairs. A few clashes and banging of items would pass here and there before you heard Peter again.

“Got it!”

You turned around and watched as Peter rushed down the stairs, then smiled to himself as he held a small black duffel bag. 

“Now, the first thing is a little out of my reach, but I can help you with the second one.”

“What’s that?”

“My uncle's old record player. He gave it to me a while back, but I never got the chance to use it,” he explained as he pulled it and a few records out of the bag. “But you said you wanted to dance, so here it is.”

He placed the bag aside and put the player on the coffee table in front of him,” You ok?”

Your jaw gaped open, and you quickly closed it,” Ye-Yeah, I’m fine.”

“While I move this table, pick a song out of the bag.”

At last…

“I take back what I said.”

“Oh god, what this time?” Peter asked, cheek pressed into your own, slightly slurring his words as you both moved around the room.

…my love has come along.

You chuckled at yourself, arms wrapped behind and upwards on Peter’s back as you danced chest to chest, “Dancing like the Bridgerton’s takes too much effort.”

“I tried to tell you.”

“Whatever,” You laughed, both chuckling and swaying in unison. Peter moved his cheek from your own to your shoulder, leaving his arms around your waist as he pulled you in closer.

My lonely days are over.

“Peter?”

“Yes, Y/N?”

And life is like a song.

“This is one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.”

At last, the skies above are blue.

“It is?”

“Yes,” you stated, leaning in deeper to the lazy movements you both allowed your bodies to meld into one another. 

My heart was wrapped up in clover.

“And Peter?”

He laughed lightly, smiling from ear to ear as he felt the vibrations from the outside of your chest, “Yes, my love?”

“I want to know what sent you to me,” you stated, running your fingers through the ends of his hair. 

The night I looked at you.

As the pair pulled up the dusty, dirt path, the sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires could be heard from inside the car. Conversation had long since ceased, and the air had turned to one of apprehension, strangling the previous comfortable silence. Putting the car into park, Kat got out wordlessly to open the gate leading up to a rather quaint-looking farmhouse. 

“Are you finally gonna tell me where we are?” Peter asked slowly as she re-entered the car, pulling it up the driveway before stopping it once more and pulling the keys from the ignition. Kat leaned back in her seat, wincing slightly at Peter’s question.

“Remember when I told you about my dad living super far out?” She didn’t wait for an answer, and Peter didn’t provide one, sensing it was more of a statement than anything else. Exiting the car, the pair moved quickly towards the trunk, grabbing the necessary items before Kat led the way around the side of the home to what looked like a back entrance. Fishing a key from her pocket, she unlocked it before pushing her way inside and stopping in the middle of a rather rustic-looking kitchen. 

“Home sweet home,” mumbled the redhead as she began to move again, making her way down the hall to the left and up a set of stairs. Unaware of what else to do, Peter followed her into a room decorated for a little girl.

“Wow, I have to say I did not peg you for a horse girl,” Peter laughed, picking up one of the many figurines on the dresser. 

“Shut up,” Kat shot back, but her words held no venom.

The pair dropped their duffle bags and began to make their way downstairs. 

“So, where is your dad?” questioned Peter, looking around as though an older man with some strange resemblance to the girl before him might materialize out of thin air.

“With any luck, gone,” she muttered darkly in response as she reached the cabinet beside the fridge and began to root through it.

“You looking for something in particular?” 

“Nothing, I can’t find myself, Parker,” Kat sighed before pulling out a half-full bottle of vodka. “I don’t know about you, but I need a drink.” 

The redhead made quick work of the cap and did not even move to find herself a glass, electing instead to bring the bottle straight to her lips. She then offered it to Peter.

“Oh no, I can’t,” Peter reasoned, shaking his head. Kat simply lifted a questioning brow. 

“I can’t. I have you to think about.”

“What?”

“I’m here to protect you, I’m not sure now’s the time for me to get intoxicated.” Kat laughed. It was a hearty laugh, but there was a bitter tinge to it.

“If anyone’s been protecting anybody lately, it’s been me looking after you.”

“That’s not-”

“I’m sorry, did I not just take out that lizard guy? Twice?” Peter simply balked at her.

“Besides, we are miles away from the city, in the middle of the New York countryside. I think the universe will be alright if Spider-man does a couple of shots with me.”

“It’s not just that,” Peter sighed.

“Okay, so what is it?” Kat demanded.

“I’ve never- I’ve never really gotten drunk with somebody before,” he managed, though his voice was soft with embarrassment. The girl before him let out a strangled laugh.

“Not even at a party?”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I was not that cool in high school,” Peter smiled weakly, bringing a hand up to scratch nervously at the back of his neck.

“What about college?”

“I didn’t go,” he admitted, now fully unable to look her in the eyes. 

“Well, I suppose it's never too late to start a bad habit,” Kat shrugged, extending the bottle to Peter once more. And this time, he took it.

Two hours later, the pair sat together on the couch, an empty bottle of vodka between them. Peter felt distinctly that being drunk felt like watching a movie from the 70s; everything was warm and blurry. In the corner of his mind, he thought he could hear Kat snorting lightly at some joke he’d just made, but as he turned to face her, it was as though everything else had fallen away, and he was once again struck by just how beautiful she was. Her eyeliner, a relic of the morning, was smudged around her eyelids, and her hair bunched around her face in a messy halo. She was positively glowing, and Peter felt his skin begin to tint red as he lost himself in her smile.

Distantly, he registered that the radio show playing in the background had transitioned into a slower song, a thought Kat dragged to the forefront of his mind as she bounced to her feet.

“I love this song! Dance with me, Parker,” she smiled, extending her hand in his direction. Peter groaned loudly at the suggestion but placed his hand in hers regardless, allowing the smaller woman to pull him to his feet. Kat brought her arms up to his neck, lacing them around the back, but Peter only stood there stiffly. 

“You’re supposed to put your hands on my waist, not just stand there motionless, you freak,” she giggled, moving his hands to her hips before beginning to guide him around the living room with haphazard steps and a slight swaying motion. 

“You know you’re pretty cute when you’re not covered in spandex, saving the world,” she said, eyes unfocused as they shifted away from Peter’s gaze.

“Not a fan of the suit?” he asked, tone conveying his mock offense. 

“Oh, I used to think you were the cutest; I had your poster in my room and everything,” Kat let slip before her eyes grew wide, and her mouth formed a regretful ‘o’ at the information she had just let slip.

“And here I thought you were just a One Direction fangirl,” Peter teased, a grin making its way across his face.

“Shut up; I wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” she groaned, allowing her head to fall forward and hit his chest. 

“No, really, I’m curious; what was it about me that stole your heart? My witty banter or my charming personality?”

“Honestly, it was your cute butt,” Kat admitted, though her words were muffled as she spoke them into his chest.

“Wow.” Peter laughed, and Kat stole a glance up at him. 

“You can never tell anyone I said that,” she whispered, an embarrassed flush spreading its way across her skin. 

“Who would I tell anyway?” Peter whispered back, lowering his head so they were face to face. He would feel her breath as it fanned across his cheeks, hot and reeking of alcohol.

“I hate you,” she squeaked, but there wasn’t an ounce of truth to the words. 

Peter leaned in closer. Their noses brushed against one another. He watched her eyes flutter closed.

“You wish,” the half-hearted whisper seemed to echo between them, bouncing straight off his lips onto hers. Just an inch closer, he thought. Suddenly, Kat wrenched herself from his grip, and his half-lidded eyes flew open just in time to catch her throwing up all over his feet. 

“I am so sorry.” Kat had been spewing apologies for the last half hour, and now, as the two sat in front of the washing machine, simultaneously praying it might wash the vomit out of Peter’s Chuck Taylors was no different.

“God, I am so embarrassed; I’m usually very good at holding my alcohol. I know it probably doesn’t seem like it, but I’m serious-” 

“Kat, it's fine, really,” he assured her once more, though he was certain this attempt to calm her down would be just as futile as all the rest.

“Urgh, it is so not fine; I just threw up all over you.” She buried her face in her knees. 

“How about we just go to bed? I’m sure all of this will be far less disgusting after a good night of sleep,” Peter offered. 

“You’re probably right.” 

“I’m definitely right,” Peter replied, playfully nudging her shoulder with his own. 

Slowly, Kat rose to her feet before padding towards the door. She paused after noticing Peter was not following.

“You coming?”

“Nah, I’ll take the couch for tonight.”

“Alright, loser, whatever makes you happy.”

As he settled slowly onto the couch, Peter couldn’t help but ache for the soft lighting of the bedroom he’d shared with Kat. For the quiet sound of her half-snores and the warmth that inexplicably bloomed in his chest every time she turned to face him. Taking a deep breath, he turned in the direction of the couch’s back cushions, allowing himself to be lulled into an uneasy sleep by the distant clicking of a grandfather clock. 

To say he was jerked awake would be an understatement. The harsh jab on his back was easy enough to ignore the first time and even the second, but as he felt the cool end of an unknown object butt against his back a third time, he couldn’t help but roll over, if only in an attempt to brush it away. Struggling to peel his eyes open, it took him fifteen seconds longer than average to notice the shotgun pointed callously at his face. 

“Holy fuck.” Scrambling as far back as the couch would allow, he got his first look at his assailant. The man, probably nearing his sixties, had a firm scowl painted across his face and was eyeing Peter with all the caution and rage one might fix a piece of prey with. And yet, Peter also couldn’t help but register the sense of familiarity that befell him as his eyes scanned the face of this man he had supposedly never met. He looked a lot like-

“Kat!” He called up the stairs, eager to be relieved of the gun in his face. Before him, the man’s brow creased, but his gaze quickly darted away from Peter at the sound of footsteps on the staircase.

“Dad?” 

Peter supposed there had been few occasions in his life as awkward as having breakfast with the father-daughter combo sat at the table beside him. 

“So, Mr. Jennings-”

“It's Mr. Peterson.”

“Jennings is- was my mom's last name.”

Both spoke at the same time, their matching cold tones equally alarming.

“Right, er- Mr. Peterson, my name is, well actually, this is pretty funny, my name is Peter. Get it? Peter, Peterson?” He quickly trailed off as he found himself on the receiving of two nearly identical glares. 

“Anyways,” Kat began, her tone all business, “We were just about to pack up and go, so we’ll be out of your hair soon.” She cleared her throat, picking up her half-empty plate, and moving towards the sink. Peter watched as the older man’s features softened, gaze fixed on his daughter.

“Murph-” Peter barely caught the name that slipped past his lips before Kat slammed the plate in her hands down into the sink.

“I told you not to call me that!” Immediately, any previous traces of sincerity or wistfulness vanished from Mr. Peterson’s face. 

“Feed the chickens before you go.” The command was gruff and curt, a demand rather than a question.

“Whatever,” Kat rolled her eyes, moving quickly through the kitchen and out the door, pausing only momentarily to grasp the handle of a rusty tin bucket by the door.

“Good talk,” Peter muttered below his breath but quickly broke down into an awkward half-smile at the sight of Mr. Peterson’s intense glare. “Would you look at that? I think she forgot her jacket; why don’t I just go take that to her.” 

Standing quickly from the table, Peter reached out to the hooks beside the back door, grabbing his and Kat’s winter coats in one swift movement. 

As he arrived at the barn out back, he easily caught sight of Kat, half clutching her arm in the bare New York cold as she scattered feed across the ground for the group of all too-excited chickens.

“You forgot your coat, Murph,” he joked lightly, extending the rather lumpy piece of clothing to her.

“Oh fuck off, Peter,” she rolled her eyes but accepted the coat without argument. 

“God, it’s so dumb; I changed it legally years ago; he’s the only one who won’t just call me Kat,” she groaned, burying her face in her hands.

“Your name is Murph?”

“Murphy. Fucking old man's name. It was my grandpa’s, I think my dad thought if he wished hard enough, I’d come out a boy.” She snorted at the sentiment before turning to Peter, but he wasn’t listening. He wasn’t thinking about anything except MJ. His MJ who didn’t exist in Aunt May’s stupid Yellow Pages from forever ago, but it didn’t matter because it led him to Kat. Kat, who was passionate and funny and beautiful, and looking at him right now like he was insane (justifiable, of course, given his gawking). Kat, whose last name was Jennings, and whose first name, against all odds, was Murphy.