#tuofd

There was no good morning text waiting for you when you woke up.  Peter didn’t greet you outside your dorm with coffee that had way too much cream and sugar (which was how he knew you liked it) and useless facts about different types of bacteria.  He didn’t walk you to your classes or sit next to you in lectures or compare notes in the library on your breaks.  He didn’t scribble illegible questions on cue cards to help you study for biology, and he didn’t give you the tiny smile that was basically just the corner of his mouth lifting up the smallest bit when you got the answer right. He didn’t give you anything.

Peter was actively avoiding you.  Before your last conversation, he had already stopped coming to your study group, and only saw you once a day to keep up the charade that you two were dating.  But now, he didn’t even try to pretend.  He went back to sitting on the opposite side of the lecture hall.  He didn’t say hi to you if you passed each other on campus.  He wouldn’t even look at you.

In some ways, you understood.  And in some ways, you hated him for it.

When you had confessed your feelings, Peter had confessed that he was in love with you. But he said it because he didn’t believe you were telling the truth. You had done such a great job of convincing yourself that you didn’t have feelings for Peter, that you had convinced him, too. In the month that had passed since you last spoke, you had felt every emotion under the sun.  You cycled through hurt and anger and sadness like you cycled through the days of the week.  Now, though, all you felt was emptiness.

You missed him.

 “Well, this is just sad.”

You turned your head to see Sadie walking into the student lounge, her suitcase in hand. With a sigh, she sat down next to you and pulled your legs onto her lap.

“Shouldn’t you have left for the airport already?  Your flight leaves in a couple hours.” You fiddled with your fingers as you tried to keep your face neutral.  You didn’t want Sadie to know that you were thinking about Peter again.

“I’ll be fine. I wanted to check on you one last time before I go.” Sadie rubbed your leg and smiled at you. “Are you sure you don’t want to come home with me for Christmas break?  My mom would love to meet you.  And I have lots of single cousins.  Only half of them are over thirty.”

You smiled back at her as you shook your head. “Thanks, Sadie, but no.  I’ve never had Christmas in New York before; it should be fun.”

“Normally, I’d agree with you, but Christmas in New York is only fun when you’re with friends and family.  Not when you’re all alone in a dorm.” Sadie rolled her eyes. “Didn’t you see Home Alone 2? It was way worse than the first one! You don’t want to be Home Alone 2, Y/N.”

“Well, seeing as how I’m not eleven, and I don’t have two escaped convicts after me, I think I’m safe.”

Sadie groaned. “You know what I mean.  Why didn’t you want to go home for Christmas?”

You gave her a look. “I told you, Sadie.  The flight to Seattle is over six hours long, it’s snowy and cold—”

“It’s snowy and cold here, too.”

“—and I want to be alone.  Being alone isn’t that bad.”

“Being alone? No.  But being lonely…” Sadie tilted her head to the side. “That’s pretty terrible.”

You looked away from her. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m not lonely, then.”

“Oh, cut the bullshit, Y/N.” Sadie rolled her eyes again and waited until you looked back at her before continuing. “I know you.  Ever since Peter broke up with you—”

“It was a mutual decision—”

“—ever since then, you’ve been moping.  I know you’re sad.  You’re allowed to be sad.  But you’re not allowed to spend Christmas holed up in your dorm around your tiny plant with one decoration on it like it’s the goddamn Charlie Brown Christmas tree, and tell me everything’s okay!”

You blew out a short gust of air. “Wow.  How long have you been holding that in for?”

Sadie cracked a smile. “Two weeks.  I’ve been trying to give you space.”

“Listen, Sadie, I’m fine.  I promise.  Cross my heart.” You reached out and grabbed your friend’s hand to squeeze it tight. “I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”

“I know, I just—”

“—Worry about me. But you don’t need to.” You smiled and pulled your hand away. “However, you do need to worry about missing your flight. I don’t want your mother to hate me before she even meets me.”

Sadie pushed your legs off of her lap and stood up. “Fine.  Now give me a hug before I go.”

You stood up and hugged her tight, burying your face in her neck. “I put your gift in your suitcase last night.  Don’t open it before Christmas.”

“And I’ve hidden your gift somewhere in your dorm.  Don’t find it before Christmas.”

You laughed and squeezed her one last time before pulling away. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Sadie pressed a kiss to your cheek before she grabbed her suitcase and began walking out of the student lounge.

“Have fun in Iowa!” You called after her.

She replied without even turning around. “You know I won’t!”

You watched Sadie leave before you sat back down on the couch, your smile dropping from your face. Truthfully, you weren’t all that excited to stay on campus alone for Christmas.  But you weren’t in a very Christmas-like mood, and you knew that going back home or going to Iowa with Sadie would only bring down everyone around you.  It was better to be alone in your emotions, you decided.  Maybe by the time the New Year rolled around, you would feel a bit better.

 Your days passed uneventfully as the countdown to Christmas got smaller and smaller.  By the time December twenty-third rolled around, there were only a handful of people left on campus.  Snow was falling heavily every moment of the day, and walking around the courtyards of Columbia felt like walking through another world. It was silent and secluded, every sound muffled by the blanket of snow, every footprint you left gone in a matter of minutes.

Despite telling Sadie that you were staying to experience New York at Christmas, you had yet to venture off campus into the bustling city.  But it was the day before Christmas Eve, and you figured that you had to go eventually so you wouldn’t have to lie to her.  

Bundled in your warmest clothes, the knit scarf your mother mailed you a week earlier (“New York is freezing, Y/N!  I see it all over the news, and you insist on walking everywhere—”), and your snow boots, you set off into the city to see the tree at Rockefeller Center.  Last year, you hadn’t gotten the chance to go see it before you flew home for the holidays; this year was the perfect opportunity.

Although it was cold, you didn’t mind walking to Rockefeller.  It had been a while since you had been out in the city, and you had forgotten how much you loved it.  Once you reached the Center, flooded with families and people of all ages, the feeling of affection only grew.  Despite the chill of the snow, you felt a warmth growing inside you as you watched the children skate beneath the glow of the tree.  Even after you left Rockefeller Center a half hour later, that warmth still burned inside you, and the glow of the tree still illuminated your mind.  

And it stayed like that until you ran into Peter on your way back to Columbia.

As in, literally ran into him.  The snow began to fall heavier and heavier, and the sidewalks were full of people trying to get home before a blizzard started.  In the rush of people, you stumbled and slammed into the person in front of you who had been walking the other way.

“Sorry, I—”

“No, no, it’s—Y/N?”

Your eyes widened as you registered the voice you were hearing.  Looking up from the ground, you saw a bundled up and slightly disheveled Peter, his hands full of shopping bags, his expression mimicking yours.

“Oh—h-hi.” You took a deep breath and forced a smile. “How…how are you?”

“I’m…what are you doing here?  Why didn’t you go home for Christmas?” Peter adjusted his grip on his bags.  Despite his curious tone, his eyes were having trouble meeting yours.

And yours were doing the same.

“I-I’d never had Christmas in New York before.  It seemed…fun.”

“Did Sadie stay behind too?”

You shook your head. “No, she went back to Iowa.  She left last week.”

“Oh…” Peter drifted off awkwardly as conversation stalled. “That’s—”

“Peter!” A middle aged woman broke through the crowd and laid a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I thought I lost you!  Keep up, slow poke.” She smiled affectionately at him before looking over at you. “Who’s this?”

“Um, May, this is my…” Peter cleared his throat. “This is Y/N.  Y/N, this is my Aunt May.”

“Hi.” You gave a small smile and wave, and May did the same.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” She squeezed Peter’s shoulder. “Peter’s told me so much—”

“May, Jesus,” Peter closed his eyes and sighed. “You can’t just—”

“No, it’s okay. Listen, I, um,” You bit your lip and wrapped your scarf around yourself tighter, eager to get away from the awkward encounter. “I’d better go.  It’s getting dark and I still have a few blocks to go before Columbia—”

“Wait, you’re not staying with friends?” Peter’s brow furrowed in confusion. “You’re on campus by yourself?”

“Yes?”

“That’s where you’re spending Christmas?” A look of concern came over May’s face.

You nodded quickly. “Yeah, it’s nice and quiet and—”

“And lonely! You can’t be alone on Christmas!” May said. “You should come for Christmas at our apartment.”

Your eyes widened and you began to shake your head frantically. “Oh, no, I couldn’t—”

“Yes, you could! We do a little Christmas Eve get together with a few of Peter’s friends, and then a nice Christmas dinner.  I’d love to add another!”

“May,” Peter’s jaw was locked tight. “She doesn’t want to—”

“Hush.” May gave Peter a stern look. “No one should be alone during the holidays.  What do you say, sweetheart?  Come over around 6:30 tomorrow?”

“Um, okay.” You smiled nervously at May and avoided eye contact with Peter. “I’ll...I’ll be there.”

“Wonderful!” May gave you a big smile. “Peter will text you the address!  And don’t worry about bringing anything.  Just come over and we’ll take care of everything.”

“T-thanks, I—”

“May, come on, we should let Y/N get back to her dorm before the snow gets worse.” Peter glanced at you quickly before turning towards his aunt.

“Alright, Y/N, we’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Yeah.  It was nice meeting you, May.  Peter,” You waited until the boy had turned around to face you again. “It was…good seeing you again.”

Peter nodded, his mouth set in a firm line. “You too.”

Before either of you could say another word, you turned around and began heading back to your dorm.  Although you desperately wanted to, you stopped yourself from turning around until you felt Peter’s burning gaze leave your back.  When you did finally glance back, he was gone.

Really, all you and Peter did was fight.  You had never gotten along, even in the (frankly, much too short for comfort) time you knew him before you knew he was Spider-Man.  You argued about him not trusting you with his secret, about being forced to spend time together to ensure you didn’t tell anyone, and about Peter blurting out that you two were dating in a moment of panic.  The only time you weren’t fighting was when the two of you had sex.

And now you weren’t anything.  After you refused to talk about your hookup last Saturday, Peter had barely spoken to you. There were brief hellos and kisses on cheeks in the hallways to avoid suspicion, and the occasional walk back to your dorm, but in the six days since you refused to talk, Peter had said approximately sixteen words to you.

On one hand, you liked it.  You hated confrontation and discussing feelings, and usually you would be ecstatic to avoid talking to Peter, especially about those topics.  On the other hand, you were lonely.  You were shocked to find that you missed Peter’s companionship, after growing accustomed to it in the last month.  And you felt so guilty for not talking to him; you had never intended to hurt Peter with your actions.  And now you were hurting, for reasons you couldn’t quite place.

“Y/N?” Sadie waved her hand in front of your face. “Did you hear me?”

“Sorry, what?” You shook your head. “I’m sorry, Sadie, I zoned out.  What did you say?”

“I asked if you and Peter had a fight.  You’ve barely been around each other the past week.”

You sighed. “I…I don’t know.  We’ve hardly talked.”

Sadie’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Really?  But you were all over each other for so long!  What was the last thing you said to each other before this week?”

You knew you couldn’t tell Sadie about you and Peter having sex without telling her everything else. “I don’t remember.  Normal stuff.”

“Huh.” Sadie opened the door to the frozen yogurt shop and walked inside with you. “Well, I’m sorry, babe.  It’s never fun when you’re fighting with your significant other.”

You sighed and grabbed a paper bowl before heading to the frozen yogurt dispensers. “Yeah. It’s really not.”

 Of course, you debated if you should be the one to approach Peter.  Maybe if you went and apologized, everything could go back to normal. Normal, as in, properly fake dating and hanging out all the time to prevent anyone from finding out Peter was an Avenger.  That kind of normal.

Except every time you thought about it, you decided against it.  You hadn’t done anything wrong; Peter was the one who was acting like a child and ignoring you.  If he wanted to fix it, then he could be the one to do it.  You couldn’t care less.

And telling yourself that almost worked.  The more you repeated it, the more you halfway believed it.  But half of a half doesn’t equal a whole, and you could never quite convince yourself enough for it to count.

 With you refusing to talk to Peter before he talked to you, another week passed quickly.  You were seeing each other less and less, until you barely saw him once a day.  Sadie could tell the radio silence was getting under your skin, but every time she asked if you wanted to talk about it, you declined.  The only person you wanted to talk to about Peter’s silence was Peter.

“If you’re so desperate to talk to him,” Sadie stirred her straw around in her drink, mixing the whipped cream in with everything else. “Then just talk to him.  It’s not that hard, Y/N.”

You leaned forward in your seat as you picked up your coffee cup, glancing around the packed coffee shop as you did so to avoid Sadie’s eyes. “I shouldn’t have to talk to him. He’s the one avoiding me.”

“Peter doesn’t seem like the type to ignore someone without reason.” Sadie gave you a look. “Maybe you did something to hurt his feelings.  You can be kind of oblivious about that kind of stuff sometimes.”

“Hey!”

“What?  It’s true!” Sadie pointed at you with her straw before licking the whipped cream off it. “Look, you’re my friend and I love you, and I love your drive, but sometimes you’re so focused on succeeding and being the best that you don’t notice the feelings of those around you. It’s entirely possible that you did something to hurt Peter.”

You wanted to argue, but you knew that Sadie was right.  Sometimes you were oblivious to how others felt.  You weren’t the greatest at picking up social cues and detecting emotions if someone didn’t outright tell you what they were feeling.  Maybe Peter was a lot more hurt over you not wanting to talk about the two of you having sex than you thought.

“So you think I should talk to him?”

“I think you should do what you know is right.” Sadie smiled at you. “Call him, Y/N.  Text him.  Send him a carrier pigeon.  Just communicate that you want to talk and that you’re—”

Sadie’s eyes went out of focus as something behind your head caught her attention.

“What is it, Sadie?” You turned around as she pointed to the TV the coffee shop had displayed on the wall behind your head.

“—taking place just down the street from Columbia University.” The news caster spoke as clips of some sort of explosion played beside her. “The motive behind the attack is unclear, as well as how many people are involved.  As of right now, there are three known perpetrators, who are being pursued by Spider-Man.  Let’s go to our live footage of the event.”

The TV cut to shots of a bank down the street from Columbia on fire.  There were civilians all around, as well as fire trucks and cop cars.  One shot was moving, following the path of Spider-Man as he chased after a large truck that you guessed was being used by the people who blew up the bank.

From outside, you could hear sirens coming closer and closer.  You and Sadie stood up and rushed outside, as did other customers of the coffee shop.  You could see the truck rounding the corner and continuing down the street toward you, and Spider-Man swinging above it.  Peter swinging above it.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as one of the criminals leaned out of the truck window and began shooting at Peter.  He was able to use his webbing to dodge each one, but with each bullet, he got closer and closer to being hit.

Despite having to focus on dodging bullets, Peter (you couldn’t think of him as Spider-Man, even with the mask and the suit on.  It was still Peter to you.) was still able shoot a large web in front of the truck.  It didn’t look like it would be enough at first, but once it was shot, the web expanded to cover the entire end of the street. The truck was going so fast that it wasn’t able to slam on the breaks, and it crashed into the web.

The force of the crash, however, did some damage.  One of the trees that the web was attached to became uprooted.  You didn’t notice until you were being pulled out of the way by someone as a large tree trunk fell right where you had been standing.  When you looked up, Peter’s masked face was staring down at you.

He was holding you close in his arms, tight to his chest, with one hand on your upper back and the other hand on your lower back.  Even through his suit, you could feel the heat of his hands, just like you had felt it on the night you had sex.

Cop cars were pulling up around you to arrest the perpetrators, and so many people were screaming, but Peter kept holding you as tight as he possibly could. “A-are you okay?”

You nodded your head quickly. “Yeah.  Yeah, I-I’m fine. Are you—?”

Your question was cut off by the crowd screaming louder as one of the criminals broke free from the officers, firing shots towards Peter before making a run for it.  One of the bullets almost hit your back, but Peter pulled you out of its path by turning his body and letting it hit his arm instead.

You screamed loudly as blood began to fall, camouflaging in with the red of his suit. Peter cursed in pain, letting go of you and shooting a web in the air before swinging off without another word.

Sadie rushed to you, words of concern and tears of anxiety pouring out of her.  Despite seeing her lips moving, however, you couldn’t process anything she was saying.  None of her words made sense to you, and the only thing you could hear, on an endless loop, was Peter’s voice asking if you were okay, shaking as he did so. The only thing you could see was blood dripping from his arm as he took the bullet that was destined to hit you.

 You stayed in your haze as Sadie led you to be checked out by paramedics, and didn’t come out of it until she took you back to your dorm.  Even then, you couldn’t think of anything except checking on Peter.  You had to make sure he was okay.  You had to know he didn’t get seriously injured because of you.

You had to make sure. You just had to.

But Sadie wouldn’t leave you alone, and you couldn’t explain your sudden need to talk to your fake boyfriend that you were supposed to be fighting with.  Instead, you sat through what seemed like endless hours of Netflix marathons and discussions of what happened and what could have happened, until Sadie finally went to leave at eleven that night.

“Call me, okay? If you need anything.  Nothing is too dumb to call about.”

“Okay, Sadie. Thank you.”

Sadie hugged you tightly and planted a kiss on your cheek. “I love you, Y/N.  I’m glad you’re safe.”

“I love you, too. Text me when you’re back at your dorm.”

Sadie nodded and you shut the door tightly behind her before pulling out your phone and checking it one last time.  

All day, you’d been checking for a call or text from Peter.  You didn’t expect much, really, just something to let you know that he was alright.  That he had made it home after that heist.  That he wasn’t permanently injured because he took a literal bullet for you.

That fact was hard to wrap your head around.  Peter had let himself be shot in order to protect you.  Instead of pushing you out of the way, onto the broken cement ground, he turned your bodies so you would be safe, and he would be injured.  It was almost as if he would’ve rather had himself be gravely hurt, if it meant you would be in no pain at all.

Except you were in pain.  Knowing that Peter did that for you?  It hurt. It hurt in ways you couldn’t even describe.  And it awakened emotions in you that you didn’t know you had.

Because for the last week, you hadn’t been feeling annoyance or anger towards Peter as much as you wanted to.  Instead, you missed him.  You missed his stupid questions and his dumb jokes.  You missed him walking slightly faster than you between classes, so that you had to half walk and half jog to keep up with him.  You missed the face he made while doing calculations in his head, the way he stuck his tongue out in concentration while reading long passages in your textbooks, and the way he ran his hands through his hair in frustration when he was stuck on an equation.  You missed him rolling his eyes at your questions about his powers, and the partially annoyed but more amused voice he would give cryptic answers in.  You missed him bringing you coffee and pastries to your study sessions, and arguing over who got to eat the last donut.  You missed him always letting you have it.

You missed the way your fingers brushed when he passed you test tubes in chemistry.  You missed the faint smell of mint and coconut that always seemed to follow him.  You missed smelling it on your sweater after he walked you home.  You missed the texts letting you know that he was home safe, and sending him ones to let him know you were safe, too.

You missed being his friend.  You missed being more than his friend.

You missed Peter.

With a sigh, you pulled a hoodie over your head and slipped your phone in your pocket, along with your key card.  If Peter refused to call you, then you were going to find him.

 It was pouring rain as you ran across campus to his building.  The feeling of symmetry did not go unnoticed by you as you remembered the only other time you had ever gone to Peter’s dorm.

Except this is different, you told yourself as you wrapped your hoodie around you tighter.  This is…checking on a friend.  Just a friend.

This time, with it being so late, no one was hanging around in the hallways to talk to you or tease you about being “the girl Peter had finally locked down.” Shivering, you quickly made your way to Peter’s dorm and knocked fast and hard.

“Just a second!” Peter’s voice called from inside his room.

You exhaled hard and locked your jaw before knocking again, this time louder and more forceful.

“Jesus Christ, Alan, I told you it was just a bruise!  Don’t—” Peter tore his door open with an annoyed look on his face.  The moment he saw you, however, his face went completely blank.

You were sure your face was the same.  You took in Peter’s appearance quickly as he did the same to you as all the anger in your body was replaced with concern.  He had multiple scratches along his collarbones and cheeks, with a nasty bruise along his jaw.  He wore grey sweatpants and a navy blue long sleeved t-shirt that gave the illusion that he was fine, but you could tell he was injured by the way he held his arm against his body.

“Y/N,” Peter gaped at you for a moment before his face became more guarded. “What—what are you doing here?”

Anger flooded back into you. “Are you kidding me?  What do you mean, what am I doing here?  You haven’t answered any of my calls, or my texts, and—”

“Jesus, keep your voice down!” Peter glanced down the hallway as your voice got louder and louder. “It’s late!”

“Yeah, I’m well fucking aware!” You snapped, crossing your arms in front of you. “I’ve been worried sick all day, trying to see if that bullet seriously hurt you—”

“For fuck’s sake—come in,” Peter opened his door wider and motioned for you to come inside, glancing around the hallway and shutting the door behind you.

It was hard to find somewhere to look.  Everywhere in Peter’s dorm reminded you of the hookup you had, which was the exact opposite of what you needed at the moment.  Finally, you settled on Peter’s face, even though that wasn’t much better.

Peter ran his hands through his hair roughly. “So what do you want?”

“What do I—?  I want to know you’re okay, you asshole!” You shivered again and pulled your soaked hoodie closer. “You took a fucking bullet for me and then ghosted me.  What was I supposed to do, just forget that?”

“Well, why the fuck not?” Peter raised an eyebrow. “You said you wanted to forget everything else that happened between us.  Why should this be any different?”

“This isn’t some dumb hookup, Parker, this is you saving my life!”

“And I’m getting kind of tired of doing that, so maybe try to stay out of danger once in a while!” Peter snapped, going to his dresser drawer and pulling out a Columbia hoodie before tossing it at you. “Here.  You look like you’re freezing.”

You grab the hoodie and pull off your own and tossing it to the ground.  Peter glanced at you as you pulled his hoodie on, and you went red when you realized that you were wearing the same bra you had worn when you had sex.

“I don’t go looking for danger, you know.” You replied hotly, pulling your hair out of the collar of the hoodie to cover your blush. “I’m not trying to make your life miserable.”

“Y/N,” Peter sighed, rubbing his eyes. “You don’t make my life miserable.  I just—you don’t exactly make it easy.”

“Okay, you have no right to say that to me!” You said incredulously. “After everything—”

“You mean after I saved your ass twice? I have every right—”

“I didn’t want to be in your life, remember?  I wanted to get our assignment at Thatcher State Park done, and then be done with you. But instead, I found out you’re Spider-Man, and you decided to stalk me—”

“I didn’t stalk you!”

“—and then tell everyone that we were dating!  So you don’t get to say that I make your life harder, because that’s your own damn fault!” You yelled, pushing your wet hair out of your face.

“Well I—you didn’t make this pleasant, you know!” Peter’s voice increased in volume to match yours. “For a month, you—”

“I didn’t make this pleasant?” You raised your eyebrows and laughed once without humour. “I’m sorry that I’ve been such a burden to you, Parker, while I was doing my best to keep your fucking secret!”

“I didn’t say you were a burden, Y/N—”

“I’ve been going out of my mind for two weeks, wondering what I did to piss you off and how to make things go back to the way they were, but maybe I should’ve just let it go.  Obviously, me caring about you is a burden, so—” You turned towards the door to go and Peter grabbed your arm.

“Y/N, wait—fuck!” Peter let go of you quickly and cradled his arm again. “Shit, that stings—”

You turned around as Peter rolled his sleeve up and grabbed a bandage off his desk.  Although his arm had begun healing since he’d been wounded (you assumed accelerated healing was part of the whole Spidey package), it was only halfway done.  Peter unraveled the old bandage, revealing the poorly stitched up bullet wound.  It wasn’t bleeding any longer, but Peter’s movement had torn a couple stitches, and the skin was pulling apart again.

“Let me—”

“I got it, Y/N, it’s fine—”

“Parker, please.” You sighed and walked towards him. “Just…stop being stubborn for one minute.”

Peter sighed but nodded and handed you the bandage.

You sat him down on the bed—you tried not to think of the last time you had been on (in) his bed—and began to wind the new bandages around his arm.

“Who stitched you up?” You asked after a moment.

“Me.”

“So that’s why it looks like a kid with a ‘my first sewing kit’ did it?”

“Fuck off.” Peter squeezed his eyes shut as you wrapped the bandage tighter. “I don’t need you to do this, you know.”

“I want to.”

“Why?” Peter opened his eyes and stared at you. “You didn’t even want to talk to me two weeks ago. What’s so different now?”

“Nothing, Parker, I just—”

“Don’t tell me it’s nothing.  I’m not an idiot.  What’s so different now?”

You exhaled angrily and looked up at him. “Why is it so difficult to believe that I care about you?”

“Because you didn’t before.” Peter’s reply was clipped and short, his voice hard.

“That’s not true.”

“Of course it is.”

“These last two weeks have been the hardest in a long time.  Do you know why?” You looked Peter in the eyes but he shook his head. “Because I didn’t have you there to get me through them.  I’ve gotten used to you in my life, Parker, okay?  You’re a complete idiot sometimes, and you talk way too much about stupid shit, and you’re so fucking annoying, and—and I’ve missed that. I’ve missed you.  I’ve missed us.”

Peter’s mouth was slightly open as he listened to you talk.

“And I-I’m sorry I didn’t want to talk about the sex after it happened.” You were never this honest with anyone, but you couldn’t stop the words from pouring from your mouth. “I just—I wanted to deny that there were any feelings involved, which was dumb, but I’m dumb, especially when it comes to emotional shit like this, and—I’m sorry, Peter.  I’m sorry.”

Your voice sounded unfamiliar as you confessed to Peter, and you realized that, for the first time, you called Peter by his first name.

Peter continued to stare at you for a moment before he finally spoke. “So—so you’re saying you have feelings for me?”

You sighed and finished bandaging his arm. “Yeah.  Yeah, I think I do.”

Peter’s jaw tightened as he nodded. “Right.  You know, Y/N, if you want to find a fuck buddy, you’re going to have to look somewhere else.”

You blinked and let go of his arm. “If I—excuse me?”

“I’m not just here for you to use.” Peter’s voice was hard and when he looked at you, his eyes mimicked his voice.

“I don’t want to—how could you even say that to me?” You leaned away from him in shock.

“Because I know you! Because you’ve been annoyed with me for the past month!  The only time you tolerated me was when we fucked.  And yeah, it was good.  Like, really good.” Peter’s cheeked tinted red a bit, as did his ears. “But like you said, I’m a complete idiot, and I went and fell in love with you, and I can’t do this to myself.”

“Wait,” You shook your head and blinked. “Wait, you—you love me?”

“Yeah.  And I know you don’t love me back, and you won’t love me back, and that’s fine.  But I know you.  So—so don’t pretend that you feel things for me when you don’t because that—” Peter squeezed his eyes shut and got up from his bed. “Honestly, Y/N?  That may fucking kill me.”

You sat on his bed in shock, not quite sure what to say.

Peter loved you. You.  He was in love with you.  He wanted you.  

But he didn’t want you.

“I—” You fumbled around your words, trying to find the right ones. “I don’t—Parker—”

“Back to the surname.” Peter laughed at a joke you didn’t see. “Look, Y/N, you should go.  Before I do something I’ll regret, like kiss you or fuck you again.”

“Peter—”

“We both know that won’t end well.”

You bit your lip and stood up, walking to the door.  Opening it, you looked back at Peter one last time.  He was watching you go with a tense look on his face.

“I, um,” You tucked your hair behind your ears. “I guess we go back to the way things were, then? Before—before the field trip?”

Peter nodded tightly, jaw still locked. “Yeah.  Back to the way things were.”

“So we’re in agreement.”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” You step out of the door. “I’ll see you around, Peter.  Sometime.”

Peter didn’t respond before you closed the door.  Then you wrapped his hoodie around you tighter, and began walking back to your dorm alone.

For the past month, you had had this weird pseudo-friendship with him.  You didn’t particularly like him, he didn’t particularly like you, and you were nervous about accidentally spilling his Spider-Man secret twenty four/seven, but at least you knew where you stood.  When he said that you two were dating, it changed things.  And when you slept with him, it changed things again.  You had no idea how to act around him now; how would you look him in the eye after everything that you two had done?  And, even more concerning, how would you look him in the eye now that you knew just how good he was at pleasuring you?

Because that was the problem.  If Peter had been mediocre or barely halfway decent at sex, you could’ve forgotten about it. You really could have.  But somehow, between being a straight A student and an Avenger, he had also found time to become really good at sex, and honestly?  It wasn’t fair.  There was a pyramid of ideal qualities that you looked for in a guy, with the three points being smart, kind hearted, and good in bed, but so far, any guy who you had applied the pyramid test to had fallen prey to what you and your friends called the Bermuda Triangle of Boyfriends Bind.  Any guy who you were interested in never fulfilled all three categories.  While a boy could be smart and good in bed, he was a dick personality-wise.  If he was kind and intelligent, he seemed to be unaware of how a vagina actually worked.  You never actually thought that you would find someone who checked every box at once, or that it would be someone you couldn’t actually stand.

It was a bind, indeed.

 Eventually, you drifted off to sleep, but it was a restless one that left you feeling worse when your alarm went off the next morning.  You slapped it off and groaned, tearing off your covers before you realized that it was the weekend.  You had planned to use the day to study and catch up on readings, but you decided that your GPA could handle you sleeping in for a little bit.  Climbing back into bed, you closed your eyes and pulled the blanket tight around you, trying to get a little bit more rest.

By the time you made it out of bed, showered, and got dressed, it was early afternoon.  Dressed in your comfiest leggings, sweater, jacket, and running shoes, you grabbed your book bag and wallet before locking your dorm behind you.  You needed to study today, and obsessing over a guy was not going to stop you.

The air was crisp but bright as you walked to your favourite coffee shop just off campus. It was a little windy, and you pushed hair out of your face as the breeze whipped it into your eyes.  Taking refuge inside the shop, you blew onto your hands to warm them up as you walked up to the barista and placed your order. The shop was crowded, full of students cramming before exams, couples on coffee dates, and friends catching up. After receiving your drink and your sandwich, you were lucky to grab the last free table at the back of the shop, sitting down and spreading your notes onto the table.

Once you were comfortably positioned, with your notes covering the table just right, you began. Reading over notes and working on practice calculation sheets, you ate your lunch and enjoyed your coffee without paying any attention to the atmosphere around you.  You didn’t even look up from your table until an hour had passed, and it was just your luck that when you did look up, you made eye contact with Peter.

His hair was blown around his head wildly, his cheeks were flushed, and he was flexing his fingers to warm them up.  Distracted by the realization that his hair was infuriatingly similar to how it looked when you ran your fingers through it last night, you almost didn’t notice the curly haired girl he walked in with.

Peter was laughing at something she said as he peeled off his jacket, and kept smiling as he ordered the two of them drinks at the counter.  It wasn’t until he made eye contact with you that the smile froze on his face.

The girl with him followed his line of sight and made eye contact with you.  Her gaze flickered between you and Peter for a moment before she whispered something to him.  Peter whispered something back as he accepted the drinks the barista passed to him, and he passed the second to the girl.

You forced yourself to smile at the pair as they began to approach you.

“Y/N,” Peter gave a small wave. “Hey.  How are you?”

“I’m—I’m good,” You nodded, fidgeting with your pen as you spoke. “How, um, how are you?”

“Good, good.” Peter mimicked your nodding, and kept mimicking it as you waited for him to introduce the girl with him.

After a moment, she cleared her throat. “Peter?”

“Oh, right, yeah, uh, Y/N, this is my friend, Michelle.  She’s visiting from Princeton for the weekend.” Peter gestured to the curly haired girl. “Michelle, this is Y/N, my, um—”

“Fake girlfriend who you revealed your biggest secret to and then banged, right,” Michelle sat down in a chair across from you and motioned for Peter to do the same. “You can call me MJ.”

Peter’s eyes widened dramatically, as did your own, and your mouth dropped open so fast you were surprised it didn’t make a noise.

“Parker, oh my god, what the fuck?” You asked, burying your face in your hands. “You told her?”

“No, no, I didn’t!” Peter’s head continued shaking frantically. “Okay, well, I—I told her about the secret thing and the fake girlfriend thing, but I most definitely did not share the fact that we made—had sex.”

“You didn’t need to,” Michelle shrugged and took a sip of her drink. “When I knocked on your door this morning, you had post sex eyes.”

“Post sex eyes?” You questioned, curiosity getting the better of you.

“After Peter sleeps with someone, he gets this hazy look in his eyes, like he can’t focus on anything.” Michelle smirked. “He kind of looks high?  It’s pretty entertaining, honestly.”

“I do not have ‘post sex eyes!’” Peter protested weakly.

MJ scoffed. “Peter, please.  The morning after you lost your virginity, your eyes were so hazy that you couldn’t focus on anything.  Two days later you told the girl you loved her and that you wanted to move to a farm upstate and raise puppies with her.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Two days?”

Peter blushed before glancing around the crowded coffee shop. “I—she was the first girl that ever sucked me off, okay?  I was seventeen.  It was an emotional moment.”

“That’s true, actually,” Michelle nodded. “You cried for days when she wasn’t very responsive to the farm and puppies idea.”

“Really?” You grinned before taking a sip of your drink. “Days?”

“How did you—? Ned told you, didn’t he?” Peter grimaced, sighing and sipping his drink.

“Oh yeah,” Michelle laughed. “I’m surprised Y/N is the first one outside of our group to find out you’re Spider-Man.”

“MJ, lower your voice!” Peter glanced around again. “Jesus!”

“Okay, well, as much as I’ve loved hearing about Parker’s embarrassing sexual escapades,” You began gathering up your notes. “I have a lab report to finish.  See you in Biology, Parker.  And it was really nice meeting you, Michelle.”

You stood up and slipped your bag over your shoulder before finishing off your drink.  Peter nodded at you as a goodbye, but Michelle stood up as well, her drink still in her hand.

“Hey, Y/N, can I…?” Michelle motioned to the drink station with her head, pushing her hair out of her eyes.  You nodded and followed her over to the counter where she opened a few sugar packets and began pouring them in her coffee.

“What’s up?” You asked curiously.  You were aware of Peter watching the two of you, and his eyes on your back made you feel nervous.

“I just—I know I make fun of Peter a lot, right, but he’s, you know, he’s my best friend.  And I know I don’t know you super—you seem great, really, but—Peter’s been through a lot.” Michelle toyed with the wrappers of the torn sugar packets. “I’m just…worried, you know?  About how this whole…fake dating thing is going to affect him.”

“I didn’t—”

“I know you didn’t start that, but—Peter’s never known when to quit.  He thinks he can make things right with everyone and protect everyone, and—and he can’t.  It’s not possible.” Michelle stirred her coffee before adding more sugar. “He needs someone looking out for him just because it’s him, not because they feel obligated to.”

“I don’t…I’m not really sure what you’re trying to say,” You said slowly, confusion tinging your words.

Michelle sighed. “If you’re not here for Peter because you genuinely care about him…then maybe you shouldn’t be here for him at all.”

You stared at Michelle, not sure of what to say.  You watched as she stirred the coffee again and took a sip.

“Ugh, nasty.” Michelle wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Way too sweet.  Sugar is gross, but whatever.  I needed an excuse to talk to you.  Anyways, see you around.  Hopefully.”

You watched as Michelle turned around and walked back to the table.  Peter’s eyes were still on you when he said something to her; you could only assume he was asking about what you two discussed.

Tossing your empty cup in the garbage, you turned around and left the coffee shop.

 While the library usually provided you with a quiet place to work on assignments and think, it didn’t do much for you when you wanted to stop thinking.  Michelle’s words kept running through your mind, an endless loop of concern that you couldn’t shut off.

You wanted to shut it off.

You knew she was right.  Despite your efforts, you’d come to know Peter fairly well over the last month. You knew he would never quit anything if he could help it, especially if he thought he was protecting someone. But did he have anyone protecting him? Was there anyone who was watching his back?  Anyone who was staying up at night, waiting for the text that would let them know that Peter was back in his dorm in one piece?  Anyone who had a first-aid kit ready if the text came and he wasn’t?

“If you’re not here for Peter because you genuinely care about him…then maybe you shouldn’t be here for him at all.”

Did you genuinely care about him?  He was a nuisance, sure, but a nuisance you seemed stuck with.  It would be rude not to care about him (at least, that’s what you told yourself).

And the fact of the matter was that, even without the added drama of sleeping with a superhero, you had never been good at this part.  The after.  The facing of the consequences of a one night stand that you couldn’t get away from. The emotions.

You dropped your pen and pressed a hand to your forehead.  Emotions should be the farthest thing from your mind when thinking about Peter.  There were no emotions.  There was annoyance and, after last night, lust.  But nothing else.  There couldn’t be anything else.  You couldn’t let there be anything else.

But if there wasn’t anything else, then why was there an ache in your chest when you saw Peter enter the café with a girl?  Why did the thought of him touching anyone else the way he had touched you the night before ignite a flame of envy in your stomach?  Why were you over-analyzing every event of the last twenty-four hours like you were the defense lawyer in the trial of your mind versus your heart?

And why were you losing?

A tap on your shoulder pulled you out of your thoughts.  You jumped, dropping the pen you had been twirling around in your hand and looking up at the librarian standing over you.

“So sorry to bother you, hon, but I’m afraid we’re closing.” She smiled warmly down at you.

“Closing—?  What time is it?” You said, a disbelieving frown forming on your face.

“About five to ten.” She smiled again. “You get back to your dorm safe, alright?  Campus security is there to walk you if you need it.”

“Right. Thanks.” You gave a tired nod and began to pack your things up before you slipped your bag over your shoulder and exited the library.

When you reached the outside, you were halfway shocked to see that the librarian was right.  It was pitch black, with barely a star in the sky visible through the clouds.  You had wasted the entire afternoon and evening in the library, with nothing to show for it except more problems, more questions, a half finished lab report, and a headache.

Wind rustled the trees above you, whipping your hair into your face.  You tightened your jacket around you and looked around in the darkness; with no moonlight and the path to your dorm running through the pitch black forest, you were contemplating walking back inside to get security when a voice from behind you spoke up.

“Need an escort?”

You turned around to see Peter leaning up against the pillars of the library, his hands tucked in his pockets and his jacket buttoned up to his neck.  His hair, which was usually slicked back, was being blown into his eyes, and his mouth was turned up at the corners.

“No, it’s okay, I—I can get security.  It’s fine.” You pushed your hair out of your face (unsuccessfully) and forced a smile. “Really.”

“You’d take some middle aged, balding security guy over an Avenger?” Peter raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, well, the middle aged, balding security guy hasn’t seen me naked.” You huffed. “Look, Parker, can you drop the whole surveillance thing for one night?  I just—I need some time to think, and—”

“Y/N.” The corners of Peter’s mouth settled into a straight line as he sighed. “I just want to make sure you get home safe.  That’s it. I swear, I—I’m not going to try anything.  We don’t even have to talk about it.  But I—I can’t go back to my dorm if I don’t know you’re safe and sound in yours.”

You bit your lip. “Fine.  But only because I don’t want to be murdered.”

Peter walked over to you and the two of you began making your way back to your residence building.  It was about a fifteen minute walk, which meant that you ran through your small topics (the windy weather and the bio test next week) in about eighty-three seconds. After that, an awkward silence filled the air as you trekked down the path, with Peter being careful to keep a foot of distance between you at all times.

With five minutes to go, Peter broke the silence.  

“Okay.” He kicked a rock down the path in front of you. “I know I said we don’t have to talk about it.  But—but can we talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about?” You kept your gaze glued firmly on the darkness in front of you.

“Um.  A lot.” Peter’s voice was short and clipped, like he was trying to maintain composure. “We had sex, Y/N.  I think that kind of complicates the whole ‘hating each other’ thing we had going on.”

“And talking about it complicates it more.” You rubbed a hand over your tired eyes. “So let’s just drop it, okay?”

“Right. Right.” Peter nodded to himself as his voice hardened over. “Because it was just sex.”

“Right.”

“It meant nothing.”

“Exactly.”

“Just sex between two non-friends who are fake dating.”

“Now you’re getting it.” As you reached your building, you pulled out your key card from your backpack. “Thanks for the escort home.”

“Could I walk you up?” Peter gestured towards the door. “You know, make sure you make it in okay.”

“I, um, I don’t think that’d be a good idea, Parker.” You swiped your key card through the door and pulled it open. “Maybe we should just…call it a night.”

“Yeah.  Yeah, you’re right.  My bad.” Peter gave you a smile that looked more forced than it usually was. “Um, have a good sleep.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, or around.” You nodded to Peter, trying your best not to meet his eyes.

“Or…around.” Peter echoed your words softly.  You could feel his gaze glued to you.

You stepped into the building and closed the door behind you, sliding down it once it had clicked shut.  The wood was cold against your back as you laid your head in your hands and pulled your knees to your chest.

Thoughts raced through your head, a million words flooding all at once, but only one came to your lips.  One word that summed up everything that you were feeling.

“Fuck.”