hot bread & croissants

“I got another one. You up for it?” He paused for a few seconds, listening to the response before adding, “I’ll get there first, just track me.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed on the fading glow as he equipped the infamous mask once again and ended the call, swinging off in the direction the explosion spawned from. He stealthily neared the site: one of New York’s many parking garages, and waited out the remaining time in the shadows, just outside the entrance, until his backup arrived.

--

It was a surprise to get a phone call from Spider-man, but everything was a surprise when it came from him nowadays. You’d only recently learned about his true identity: Peter Parker. Being a vigilante yourself, you two had met fighting a band of gangsters one night. He’d saved your life that day. Without his quick thinking, there would’ve been a bullet lodged into your brain.

Deciding to keep your identities secret from each other was a compromise necessary for protection but eventually trust got in between that. It was careless as much as it was reckless but that didn’t stop you two. He knew your name and you knew his. Many of your nights ended with you falling asleep wrapped in his arms, him admiring the way your eyelashes fluttered.

Still, the both of you reasoned to fight crime separately, unless extra help was needed, in order to preserve the working relationship that had developed. Peter didn’t want anyone to use you to get to him and you’d thought the same for him. The two of you would take every other night off, one always going out while the other took a rest day.

Tonight was an exception. Slipping off your couch, you paced back to your room and closed your door as lightly as you could, turning the handle just before it made contact with the frame to avoid the click of the lock. It was only a matter of minutes before you had transformed into your other persona. Similar to Peter’s suit, yours was thin and skintight to achieve quick and fluent movements, only you didn’t have a full face mask and yours wasn’t designed by Tony Stark. Your mask solely covered around your eyes but it still did the job of concealing your identity.

You strapped on your heat protectant gloves and zipped up a hoodie to hide your suit before sneaking out of your apartment. Luckily, your father was working late and your mother didn’t pay much attention. Thanks to a mishap at the wrong place at the wrong time with supernatural energy, science gifted you the ability to manipulate and partially create fire.

“Hey, mom? I’m going over to (friend’s name) to finish up our project.” You lied without waiting for a response.

Traffic was heavy tonight, the city lights blinding, but you managed to get to Peter quicker than expected. He’d given you access to the tracking device located inside his suit for cases like this. Alien tech was tricky to take down so he needed the backup.

It was dark now, the sunset fading as the moon woke up and the first stars appeared. “Hey.” You said simply, squeezing his shoulder. “What’s the plan?”

He turned and embraced you in a quick hug, greeting you. “Hey!” He smiled from under the mask, “I know there’s at least one alien gun, maybe two. Could be dangerous-actually y-yeah. It’s dangerous.” He seemed to be regretting calling you for help.

You smirked, folding your arms across your chest. “I’m always up for a challenge, Spidey. Don’t think I can handle danger?” You faked offence, stepping backwards.

His head tilted side to side in sarcasm. You could only imagine his eye roll. “I just get this vibe. Why would they be shooting their guns like this? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You pulled your mask from inside the sweatshirt pocket, right before you discarded the garment, and smoothed it over your face. “I got you and you got me. Don’t worry about it. We’ve done this before, remember?”

Just then, another explosion set off, emitting blue light once again. Residual waves of power spread from the source, forcing both of you backwards before Peter could respond.

“I know.” He checked his wrist web status.

“Okay, okay.” You said, becoming more serious. “You swing up there but stay hidden. Maybe I distract them and you can web the guns?” You improvised a plan. There wasn’t much time and you wanted to stop this childsplay as soon as possible. “Just don’t do what you did at the ferry again. We don’t need this car garage coming down on us.”

“That was one time! I got this.” Peter looked determined and he pressed a few buttons on his wrist. “Alright. You okay going up there?” He asked, stepping closer towards the building.

“Yeah, I got the stairs.”

--

Maybe it wasn’t the best of plans, but it would have to do. While you were weaving your way between the levels of the garage, Peter used the time to scope out the scene. He positioned himself on the outside of the building but in a place so he could see the level where the weapons were being fired. There were two men messing around with a few different guns, firing them at the walls of the garage, oblivious to the scene they were causing. To his surprise, they weren’t hurting anyone or holding someone hostage. Something’s off. Over the few months that Peter had experience with alien tech, the users usually had a motive. The gadgets were expensive and in most cases the risks outweighed the benefits.

“He here yet?” Another man appeared from the shadows. Peter instantly recognized him. This was one of Vulture’s original workers, one that got away months ago. Was he still selling weapons?

“I dunno boss. It’s only been like, ten minutes. Besides, these guns are sick. New designs?” The man looked to be in his late 20’s and didn’t seem to be too bright as he was handling the gun without care.

“These things are freaky, man.” The other commented, shooting a beam through a Ford truck, blasting a hole through the front door. It sizzled and sparked as smoke started pluming from the impact. The two chuckled giddily like they were getting away with something.

“Do you remember the plan?” He said with authority, ignoring the question. “We didn’t come here to have target practice, Marcel, Austin. Act like you care.” He spat.

Marcel, the man who had just shot the truck, spoke in defense, taking a few exaggerated steps closer towards him. “You think I don’t remember the plan? You think I don’t realize what shit I’m in? Why else would I agree to help your ass and risk mine?”

“Why? Why.” He repeated in disbelief, “That bug of a teenager ruined my life. Our lives. I had to sell all my shit in order to keep designing these weapons” He pulled out a smaller gun from his hoodie, waving it rudely in their faces. Were they talking about me? I’m not a bug dude!

Austin, the other man, mockingly nodded, “What’s in it for us?”

“Yeah. All you do is use us for your petty revenge plans. Remember Logan?” Marcel was referring to a previous job, Peter assumed. Probably one that went south.

“8 years! 8 years without a word from the feds or the Avengers and then that makeshift hero showed up and...well, you saw what happened to Vulture! It took some time but now I know how to ruin him.” He paced around angrily. Yep, they were definitely talking about him. This is a trap. Shit.

Peter quickly tried to find a way to alert you but he couldn’t move without the men noticing. Come on come on come on! There wasn’t anything he could do in time.

“Don’t you two remember how much you had before all this went down a few months ago?”

“We had Logan.” Austin hissed back.

--

It wasn’t too hard to locate where the commotion originated. Three men were fighting about something—not that you cared—and it was time to bring it to a close. They were on the 6th level and you’d taken the stairs so it took a bit to reach the men.

“Sorry to interrupt this family feud but...those weapons gotta go.” You confidently strode up from the stairwell, folding your arms, and facing the criminals. “You know those are illegal right?”

Marcel aimed his gun at you but their leader held up a hand to prevent him from striking. He grinned, “Now, what is a pretty girl like you doing out on a night like this?”

Your eyes shot daggers as you scoffed. “Oh, you know, just maybe, I’m here to take you fools down for those guns. Just a thought. You can’t shoot things off without someone noticing by the way.”

“Three against one isn’t that great of chances.” Austin spoke as a warning, his hand gripping his weapon.

“No Spider-man with you?”

“I’ll take that bet.” You eyed the smoking Ford in disappointment. “Someone’s gotta pay for that.” You taunted just for the fun of it.

“Shame.” He spoke, “Marcel! Now!”

As if on command, Peter swung in already focused on webbing Marcel’s weapon, while you evaded his blast and hurried over to take on Austin. It only took a second for the men to react; shots fired from the various alien guns filled the parking level as you and Peter dodged most of the attacks. The waves of power bouncing around were jostling but you balanced yourself as best you could.

Conjuring a ball of heat from your palms, you aimed it towards Austin’s hand and the gun which was now pointed at you; the metal from the gadget quickly heated up which forced him to drop the weapon. He grabbed his burned hand in agony, stumbling over his own feet.

“Bitch!” He yelled as you kicked the weapon towards Peter who was currently in the middle of trying to web Marcel. He webbed the contraption down to the concrete, making sure to leave some webbing clear of the barrel; he didn’t need another experience like the ferry.

The combat continued for another few minutes without any progress. Mostly, it was a continual cycle of dodging and shooting. Peter had performed a few flips during the action in attempt to get to a higher advantage point and you were searching for the other man who you assumed was the boss of Marcel and Austin. He wasn’t anywhere to be seen and there weren’t many cars in the lot besides the Ford and a smaller Toyota along with some maintenance vans. Where was he hiding? Did he flee? Austin charged towards you out of anger as he’d recovered from the shock of the burn. It took a while for your powers to warm back up again so you had learned hand-to-hand combat to make up for your disadvantage.

“Flare!” Peter called out your cover name. Peter was now using the destroyed Ford as a shield, periodically shooting webs towards Marcel. To his disadvantage, Marcel switched settings so the gun was acting as a shield. Peter’s webs weren’t helping him in the slightest.

“Yeah?” You called back, kicking behind Austin’s legs, bringing him down to his knees. Austin attempted to hit your face but you diverted his blow.

You finished Austin, successfully knocking him out, and turned to see what Peter needed help with. Rushing over to hide behind the truck where he was, you had another fire blast ready and waiting. He motioned for you to throw it under the vehicle where Marcel’s legs weren’t protected.

“You can’t hide forever!” He tisked, moving closer.

Peter held up three of his covered fingers, counting down. You nodded in a silent response. Once only one of his fingers remained, you rolled under the Ford and used the opportunity to hit Marcel’s knees. Simultaneously, Peter jumped over the truck and webbed the second gun down as well as Marcel. He was caught off guard and upset groans were filling the air.  

“Enough!” The third man reappeared, pointing his gun towards Peter and shooting. The turquoise blast startled the both of you as you were still focused on the previous victory. He was knocked back, his head slamming onto the concrete with a loud thud while the lightning-like lines of energy swarmed around him. Luckily, he was still moving. “This wasn't the plan!” He spat uselessly at his two unconscious men.

A piece inside of you tore open once you’d realized what happened. “Hey!” Immediately, you rushed over to the man, attempting to get a hit in but before you could succeed a web struck your arm, the momentum of the shot causing you to miss.

“What the hell, Spidey!” You yelled in frustration but another shot hit you again. Turning your attention to Peter, you had flames burning inside. He simply ignored your comments, attempting to hit you again.

You dodged his third attempt in shock, sliding to the right just in time. “What did you do to him?” You yelled towards the boss as you realized this wasn’t the Peter Parker you knew. He didn’t respond, only simply stepping out of Spider-man’s way and watching the scene unfold, smirking. “Hey! What did you do!?” You repeated.

Whoever was attacking you wasn’t your Peter, at least not at the moment.

“Just a little invention of mine. Nothing too special.” He finally responded.

The Toyota’s car alarm went off from behind you as Peter shot another web, missing. “Hey! Spider! Stop it, it’s me!” You cried out in desperation. How were you supposed to fight your other half, your partner? You dodged as many attacks as you could but soon Peter had you cornered. His powers and his suit were much stronger than yours as it was designed by Tony Stark. How could you beat that?

No matter the amount of times you called his name, no matter the amount of times you escaped his webs, he still pursued you. You were freaking out, panic was setting in, and you had no idea how to react. You’d lost the cocky confidence you displayed when fighting earlier. Now you were trapped and the only thing left to do was fight back.

“I-I’ll shoot!” You warned, manipulating another fireball, your arms outstretched in front of your face for protection.

He sauntered over, his head tilted to one side as he webbed your wrists to the wall in a split second before you could fire, not that you had the strength to fire at him anyways. You struggled, trying to twist your hands out from the sticky mess but it did no good. The durability of the webs were impressive. Damn it, Stark. You mentally cursed. Peter stopped right in front of you, his masked stare burning holes into your face.

“Stop for a moment, would you, Spider-man?” The boss came back into the picture, wiping down his gun with a cloth as if he couldn’t get any more comfortable. Peter stood still like a dog commanded to sit.

He towered over you with a gleam in his eyes. “I could make this stop you know. I just need some information.” He spoke, choosing his words carefully he added, “Who is Spider-man, really?”

A laugh bubbled over, making you crack a smile, giving you a boost of confidence. “Why don’t you take off his mask for yourself?”

As quick as your words left your mouth, the back of his hand left a burning mark on the side of your face. “I’m no idiot! Stark’s tech isn’t that easy to hijack!” He hissed as harshly as your face stung.

“Well apparently you can tell him what to do, so why don’t you tell him to take it off himself?” You desperately wanted to rub your cheek to soothe the pain. Your arms were starting to go numb from where they were bound above your head.

“Who is he?”

“You really wanna know?” Your voice was cracking, fear was slowly seeping in again, the coolness of the concrete consumed your remaining body heat.

He took a harsh step forward, a hand wrapped around your arm, his fingers digging in. You could already feel the bruises forming. “Yeah. Yeah, I do, Flare.”

“Go fuck yourself.” You whispered softly, voice breaking.

He whipped out a long blade, pointing it at you before handing it to Peter. Your stomach dropped from the fear and sudden realization of what was about to come. Your mind was scurrying to find a way out like a mouse trying to escape from a cat.

Peter played with the knife in his hands, running his gloved finger along the blade. He pressed the cool surface against your cheek but without enough force to break the skin. His mechanical eyes narrowed as his right forearm pressed against your collarbones to push you further into the wall. The pressure was immense. The fact that it was Peter fighting you made it a million times worse. This isn’t you, Peter. Come on! He was like a robot, soulless and unresponsive.

You longed to call out his true name aloud but you couldn’t risk it. You were heating up, beads of sweat were collecting at your hairline.

“Who is he?” He said a second time, enjoying watching you struggle.

You didn’t answer and in return the blade’s tip found its way to your jawline, dragging a thin stream of blood behind its path. You could feel Peter’s hot breath against your skin as he unconsciously followed orders.

Your hands started to burn, it was your body’s way of trying to protect you. Summoning another fireball, your palms started to melt through the webbing, allowing you to break free, knocking the knife out of Peter’s hands on your way down. Fed up, you used your charged hands to shoot a blast at the boss, hitting his right bicep. The flames bursted once they made contact. He laughed in surprise.

“Oh so she does fight back?” He commented, brushing the charred matter off.

“Stop this!” You screamed, trying to conjure enough energy for another hit. It was useless.

Dodging more webs coming from Peter and waiting for your fire to recharge, you managed to land a few blows on the man. He didn’t have any weapons as he’d given his knife to Peter and you assumed the gun was only for his sick and sadistic mind control. You were stronger than him, quicker than him, but with Peter trying to hurt you, it was impossible to take him down.

His gun clattered to the floor once you finally landed another blast, its impact echoing off the walls and pillars of the parking garage. Scrambling to reach it, you dove forward before anyone else could. There has to be some setting on it to undo this. The glowing orb inside of the metal casing was mesmerizing. Pastel lavenders and blues swirled together creating an oval of energy.

Peter charged towards you, forcing you to kick his legs out from under him at the last second. Guilt coursed through your veins.

You turned the gun on the man. “Turn. It. Off.”

“Or what?” He sassed back, unfazed by your threat.

Going on a whim, you forced your heat and energy onto the foreign orb. It was shaking you violently, but it seemed to be breaking down. Small fractures appeared on the surface, spreading quickly.

“I wouldn’t do that if--”

--

Everything was fuzzy. It was like he’d just woken up from a drug induced dream. His vision was hazy, clouded, and his ears were ringing from where he was positioned on the ground.

As if in slow motion, everything came rushing back. His image became crisp, sounds weren’t muted. A chunk of time had been stripped away from Peter’s consciousness. Then he remembered the pain occuring from the back of his head. He lifted his arm hesitantly, barely touching his head. He winced, feeling the tender spot.

The heat being forced onto the gun ultimately caused the device to explode, shattering the pillars of concrete. Dust and particles filled the air, inhibiting Peter’s sight. The building was coming down, car alarms going off, sirens wailing in the distance. Cracks in the foundation were getting deeper and small chunks of concrete were free falling from the levels above. The boy coughed and wheezed trying to gather his wits.

“Y/n.” He called, ignoring the dangers of using your real name.

He shifted his weight to his feet, steadying himself and peered through the rubble that was quickly gathering as each wasted second passed.

“K-Karen.”

“Yes?” The voice in his suit responded. “I’ve detected severe structural damage. Complete failure will occur in two minutes.”

Peter stumbled over his feet, “Find Y/n.” He inhaled sharply, his ribs were definitely bruised but all he cared about was you.

His sight was overridden as Karen used heat sensors and thermal vision to locate your inert body. Peter tried his best to maneuver his way through the concrete jungle. His dizziness was overbearing and as each fraction of time passed by, the building only became more and more unstable.

“Peter?” You rasped.

--

Your head ached and your body screamed for medical attention. Coming to your senses, you realized you were in a bed, Peter’s bed, with various blankets wrapped around you and a damp towel on your forehead to wake you up. You flinched, noticing Peter, and backed away out of temporary fear.

“You-”

He cut you off, “Shh, shh. I know. I know.” His face was pained, blood had dried around his lip and above his eyebrow.

“He-the gun-you.” You struggled form a proper sentence. “I thought you were gonna….”

“It’s my fault.” He interjected. “I should’ve been better. I let my guard down for one second and look what happened.” Peter sighed. He was still in his Spider-man suit, mask off with messy hair and puffy eyes. Had he been crying?

“Peter, it’s not your fault.”

“Then whose is it? Y/n, I hurt you tonight. Not the bad guy! I didn’t have possession of my own damn mind. I could’ve killed you!” He was shaking, his hands unable to stay still.

“But you didn’t. I handled it…” You trailed off, remembering what only happened hours before.

He stood up, pacing around the room nervously now. “Y/n, I cut this close to your neck.” He used his fingers as a reference to show the small amount of distance. “I-I should've been stronger.” He broke. “This is what I was scared of.”

“Peter, it's alright. We just have to learn how to handle alien tech. I think we both jumped into that situation too fast. It was a half-ass plan.” A small laugh escaped your lips.

You motioned for him to come nearer and you embraced him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your eyes pooled into his, capturing his attention. “I feel like a failure.” He admitted. “What if there’s a next time? What if I had used taser-webs? Or-or web grenades? Instant-kill mode? ”

“Hey, hey.” You calmed, “You didn’t. We’re lucky that guy didn’t know too much about your suit. We’ll be better next time. The both of us.” You reassured, enjoying his presence. He snaked his arms around your waist as you rested your head in the crook of his neck. Despite all of the fighting he did tonight he still smelled faintly of laundry detergent and fresh linen. You smiled into his suit.

“You didn’t fight back.” He whispered, tears threatening to leave his eyes.

“How could I?”

“Y-you didn’t fight back, Y/n. That’s what scares me. It-it wasn’t me in there--that man. You have to--I wouldn’t ever hurt you I promise-just…” He was lost for words. “I didn’t know this was possible.”

You left the comfort of his neck, looking back into his eyes. You wiped the blood off of his upper lip with the dampened towel. “Peter, as scared as I was, I knew I could find a way to get you back and I did. Some part of me knew. That gun is gone now.”

“What about the guy? We didn’t even get his name. He-he probably still knows how to make them!” He was panicking.

“Peter, look at me.” You said, gripping his shoulders. “We will heal and we will figure this out, but right now we just need to rest.” You pulled him down into the covers, your back pressed into his shallowly moving chest and stomach.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

“Shhh.” You closed your eyes and let the darkness consume you. Peter’s hands made their way around your waist again to hold you close in an apology. His lips found the soft skin of your neck, his hot breath fluttering from spot to spot creating a swirling sensation within you.

“Peter.” You said breathily, entranced by his motions.

He continued his way along your jawline and cheek, delicately placing more and more. “I’ll never let that happen again for as long as I live.”

Your eyes met for the third time and you begged for more of him. He obliged, leaning in to capture your lips. So much emotion was flooding throughout your body, yet you were unable to move. It was as if time stopped and all that mattered was him. Peter continued to place small and light kisses across your face and neck, both of you giggling and breathing heavy. The warmth of the blankets and Peter’s embrace was enough to fill you completely with bliss. The compassion of his lips melted your resistance to sleep and you were quickly fading.

His fingers danced across your forehead, gently brushing strands of hair away. “Peter?” You slowly whispered, not wanting the moment to end.

“Hm?” He hummed, peppering more kisses along your hairline.

“Thank you for saving me.”

“Always.”

--

P: Just tell me

Okay fine

Cheerios. Happy?

P: Were they the good Cheerios? Or the stupid bland ones no one likes.

The honey ones

You rolled your eyes

Peter this is so irrelevant

P: I just wanted to make sure you weren’t the type of person to eat grape nuts or something lame

Omfg

Were you really having this conversation right now?

P: Cereal choice is a deal breaker for me btw

I worry about you sometimes

When does class end?

You asked, changing the subject, still being cautious of your teacher’s watch.

P: 10:01 I think

P: Why?

Sighing, you searched through your backpack trying to find something. It was only 9:20. Even a piece of gum would suffice. Thanks to your luck, all you could find were crushed wrappers.

I’m gonna die if I don’t get food rn

Do u have gum

Jotting down some notes from the lecture, your stomach decided to perform another symphony of rumbles. You crossed your arms trying your best to conceal the racket. It failed. A few heads turned to locate the noise, making you shrink in unease.

Your eyes begged for help as you mouthed an exaggerated “so hungry” to Peter. A look of concern grabbed his face, his sandy brows furrowed together. Peter’s eyes flitted towards your instructor and back to you, making sure the coast was clear, before he rummaged through his backpack as quietly as he could.

P: I have a granola bar

Your hopes lifted as you typed back a response.

You’re a lifesaver

Wait. how are u gonna give it to me?

P: Damn

P: Yeah I can’t just get up and hand it to you that would look weird

Yeah um maybe you could throw it?

He looked up with wide eyes at you. “No!” he silently exclaimed, a suppressed laugh shaking his frame. You feigned a look of sorrow, using your finger to draw a fake tear coming from your eye.

Oh!

Go get a tissue and on your way back you can give it to me

You thought it was a good plan but as soon as you scanned the room, you realized there weren’t any tissues.

P: What kind of teacher doesn’t have tissues in allergy season??

Peter typed, annoyed.

UGHHhhhhh

An evil one

You determined.

Tapping your foot in anticipation you eyed the clock. Only five minutes had passed and there was still more than half the class left.

“L/n! Devices are to be put away during lectures. I will only say this once! That goes for everyone!” Your instructor snapped. Someone hasn’t had enough coffee. You blazed red in embarrassment and sunk back into your chair, arms folded across your chest. You didn’t reply to the instructor as your worried look was convincing enough that you wouldn’t grab your phone again.

Meanwhile, Peter was holding in another laugh. Although he did look concerned, the smug look on his face was obvious.

“Shut up!” You mouthed and rolled your eyes, writing down some more notes that you’d probably never look back on. Another gurgle erupted from your stomach, making you convulse and contort as nonchalantly as you could to get it to stop. Giving up, you put your head down on the table with your hands resting on the back of your neck. Tilting your head to the left, you stole a glance at the clock: 9:31. When. Will. This. Class. End. It’s like time just stops in this class what the hell.

Accepting hunger, you slowly rose back up and propped your head on your hand, jotting down some more notes.

You hadn’t been paying attention to Peter but apparently he took it upon himself to get up. This isn’t going to go well with an upset and caffeine deprived teacher. You shot him a warning stare but he ignored it, casually walking over to where you sat. Conveniently there was a door behind you so he could quickly make his escape. He was trying too hard to hide the granola bar up his sleeve it was comical. The class was confused as much as you were.

“Parker what do you think you’re doing?” The instructor flatly stated, implying that he should sit back down.

Peter froze, his eyes widened. “Uh-um, going to the restroom sir/miss.” The plan would’ve worked if your teacher hadn’t interrupted. He was going to walk by and drop it into your bag.

Your instructor’s eyes narrowed and he/she stopped writing on the whiteboard. “Can you afford to miss this very important lesson on rhetorical analysis? There will be a quiz on Friday.”

With that new piece of information the class groaned in unison.

Peter was lost for words, “Uh-I’m-,” and if it couldn’t get any worse, the granola bar slipped from his sleeve and fell onto the floor making as much noise as it possibly could.

Peter turned beet red and he placed a hand on the back of his neck in unease.

“Peter?” The instructor looked confused.

You and Peter locked eyes for a second, silently communicating and looking for a way out. You cracked the silence first.

“Okay, well you see, I was really hungry and stuff and I asked Peter if he had some food—which he did—so we kinda made a plan to get the granola bar over here without disrupting class—which failed—but that’s the reason I was on my phone so much and I was paying attention to the lecture I promise but—“ You blurted out all at once.

Your instructor cut you off mid sentence, irritated and amused at the same time. The class was also getting a kick out of it as photos of the granola bar were being posted on Snapchat you assumed. Why else would people be “secretly” taking pics. It was so obvious.

“Well this elaborate plan fell short and has taken up too much of my class time. If you couldn’t already tell I’m not in the mood for childish disruptions like this. Parker sit down. And L/n? Learn to control your hunger.” Your instructor had had enough and the whole class was silent as he scolded again.

Peter went to sit down but ignored the granola bar. So it just sat there, in the middle of the classroom as your annoyed instructor continued the pointless lesson. After what happened there was no way you would risk getting up to get it. Even if you had gotten the granola bar from Peter, the whole class would’ve watched you eat it as they too were now invested in the story.

We’re a failure

You quickly typed

P: I hate this

He replied

I feel like a box of grape nuts tbh

P: What do we do now?

He asked

I say we just leave it there. I can survive.

Maybe.

And with that, you vowed to always make time for breakfast.

Or, maybe you could just drop the class and never come back. Who knows.

----

“They press beans?”

“Well..sorta. There’s a whole lot more to it.”

“So you’re drinking bean juice?”

it didn't help that you couldn't stop laughing at his pain

mostly because he had foam on his lip

“What? Why are you laughing? What's so funny?” He'd panic a bit

“You've got a lil something on your lip”

he tried to use the sleeve of his sweater to wipe it off

yet he still couldn't find it

“Uh-nope. Peter-no. Ugh here.” you reached across the table

he'd get all annoyed about the incident

“You didn't have to get it for me.”

even though he disliked coffee, he'd still accompany you to your favorite shops

because he didn't want you to be alone

he cared for you too much

Peter would even pay for you sometimes

although he was kinda shocked the first time he saw the price

“Woah woah. Four dollars?” his eyes widened

yet he still handed over the cash plus a tip because of the sweet heart he is

“Peter you really don't have to pay every time”

“What kind of friend would I be if I didn't?”

it would be an argument every time you ordered

and if you won and paid for the drinks, hed slip some cash in your bag without you knowing

you’d text or call him later when you found it

“Peter.”

and hed smile all smugly even though you couldn’t see

study dates, hangouts, when you were feeling down

all we're perfect excuses to get a hot latte

Peter would go for a hot chocolate if he was feeling adventurous

maybe even some whipped cream on top

“Hey hey!! He's breaking out of his shell!”

he'd roll his eyes “Shut up”

one of your favorite shops had a pet cat too

Peter would make sure to give it some attention

“Someone's gotta look out for the little guy”

he could spend all day caring for a cat

but May refused to let him get one no matter how much he begged

so he’d never miss an after school session at that shop

just for the cat

“Y/n I think I love this cat. I don’t even know its name but I love it.”

on busy mornings Peter would make extra time to get you a morning pick-me-up

because he knew the stress of school was beating down on you

“Here’s a good luck charm for the quiz today!”

but in all honestly, Peter was the good luck charm

and if you had too, you’d give up coffee in a heartbeat for him

But, Peter had mentioned an internship so that could have occupied his time more than usual? Where does he intern though? Either way, you decided to not let it bother you, instead turning to make home on the plush couch in your living room. You knew Peter was a good student, or at least that what was what your peers said. He’d have a good reason.

To your left was a window looking out at the city buildings and streets. Your mom was working late tonight and your dad was on a business trip so you had the whole apartment to yourself. Always working. You sighed. The faint sound of traffic carried upwards into the area, more sirens than usual going off around the block. Typical New York crime on a Monday night. You mentally rolled your eyes.

Snuggling up with a thick maroon knit blanket and a mug of tea, you turned on the news to learn what the commotion was about.

5:02pm

“Just around the 12th avenue bridge multiple vehicles have been involved in an accident regarding a stolen Stark Industries transportation semi that has been hijacked by unknown personnel. Police and officials are doing their best to keep the situation contained. We at 7News advice you to stay inside and off the streets as the individuals inside the vehicle are heavily armed and have already injured 6 civilians…”

Dang, that sounds bad. What the hell is in that vehicle that they wanted? You wondered.

---

Shit. I was supposed to have (Y/n) over.

Peter barely had time to think as he was in the midst of running across a street that was packed with ongoing traffic, let alone send you a text. Angry drivers and taxis honked their horns, shouting and making rude gestures as they had to slam their brakes in order not to hit the masked teen. He was, after all, jaywalking in the middle of the street. Probably not the smartest move but...I could’ve stopped one if I had to. A wave of satisfaction washed over Peter as he realized his strength again: it never got old. Wait, I can stop a car. I can actually stop a moving car with my bare hands. He smiled under the suit.

Peter sprinted down 12th avenue’s sidewalk and up towards the bridge, the scene of the crash just ahead. Red and blue lights surrounded the accident and detour signs had been placed around the stretch of road. He rushed over, analyzing the area. Ambulances were already stationed and medics had started to help the victims. Three cars were involved in the crash he noticed. Allegedly the stolen Stark Industries truck had been tailgating, urging the car on as a means to get away faster. That’s what caused the crash.

“He started ramming into my bumper and at this point I was gettin’ pretty mad, you know, so I rolled down my window, makin’ a gesture, which I know I shouldn’t a’made, but you gotta understand he was ramming my back! An’ that’s when I felt somthin’ hit my hand.”

One of the victims was explaining how the crash started, showing Peter his hand as a medic finished wrapping it, the white fabric already a bit stained with crimson. “An’ then I span out of control. Thought I was gonna land in the lake.” He noted.

“I can’t move it now. I can move my arm, but not my hand.” He said, alarming Peter. “They don’t know what hit me.” The man continued, referring to the medics. “No evidence of a bullet. They think it’s gonna be paralyzed for a while.” He rambled on.

Peter stood there at the sidelines of the crash. He couldn’t muster up an idea. “That’s really weird. There’s nothing to prove what hit you? Nothing in your hand?”

“Goose egg, son.” The man sighed, completely unfazed about a teenager in a spandex suit interviewing him. Police started to make their way over to the man as they needed statements. Before they could ask Peter what he was doing there, he quietly excused himself and casually walked away towards the crash.

Taking the chance to explore the site, Peter slipped under the police tape and behind the crushed cars unnoticed, looking for something. Anything. There’s gotta be something. Come on.

He shuffled around pieces of broken glass and shredded metal and peered through the car windows. Peter didn’t know what they he was looking for but how on earth could something leave no evidence? Especially since it was something that was shot at someone, he assumed.

Peter was just about to give up searching around the crash to pursue looking for the runaway truck until something got caught in his peripheral vision. He turned on his heels, jogging over to the one of the totaled cars. This must be that guy’s car. Peter observed, referring to the man he was just talking to, as the bumper was crushed inwards and some of the tires were torn off. The drivers side mirror was missing from the vehicle but it wasn’t due to the fact that the car had rolled. It looked as if something had blown it off.

Where’s the mirror? Peter squatted down, running his fingers over where the mirror would be and scanning the car’s surroundings.

Peter closed his eyes, visualizing what could have happened. He walked over to where the tire skids were burned into the asphalt in a wavelike pattern, assuming they were from the car’s.

“..An’ then I span out of control. Thought I was gonna land in the lake.” Peter recalled.

The lake.

Okay okay. You got this Peter. You’re the Spider-man. He pumped himself up, deciding to go down into the water as he made his way over to the guard rails. He peered side to side, checking if anyone was watching. The crash blocked him from view to his right and there wasn’t any movement to his left. All clear.

Peter gingerly stepped up onto the railing, still holding on, and swung himself over to the other side. He glanced down at the rushing water. The breeze started to pick up, sending chills down Peter’s spine. He tightened his grip on the rusted guard rails.

Shooting a web, he attached it to the side of the bridge’s concrete, pulling on it to test the strength. Slowly, he inched his other hand away from the rail and put his trust into the web. He started lowering himself down at a reluctant pace. Checking the durability once more, Peter tugged at the web. You’re fine. It’s fine. People hang over the side of bridges all the time.

Descending downwards he was halfway there when his phone started buzzing uncontrollably, making him jolt in surprise.

What the?

---

5:20pm

Taking a sip of your tea you noticed that your phone lit up. Hoping it was from Peter, you urgently grabbed it. Just another news notification.

Still nestled in a blanket on the couch, you were getting impatient. 5:22 is close enough to 6 right? Yeah, okay. I’m just gonna call him. You decided. Internships don’t go this late. Not for students.

You found his contact and pressed call, holding up the phone to your ear waiting for an answer. It only took 7 rings for him to pick up.

You heard Peter clear his throat. “H-hey.” He spoke.

“Uh, hey.” You started, unsure of how to start the conversation. “So, it’s um past five. Weren’t we gonna finish the chem paper?”

“Oh. Sorry about that I got held up at the..the internship. Yeah the internship.” The sound of wind filled the phone, making it hard to hear him. Where is he?

“Where are you?”

“What do you mean? I’m at the internship. Avenger’s tower.” He sounded nervous.

“Are you outside or something? It sounds windy--wait Avengers Tower?”

“YeAH.” His voice quickly went up in a frenzy and you heard some muffled movement.

“Peter? You okay?”

“Yeah yeah! I’m good. Just slipped. I’m...outside on one of the balconies.”

Avengers Tower? Peter Parker interns at Avengers Tower? No wonder he has no time. To your surprise, anger wasn’t what filled you, it was concern. How does he manage all his homework and the internship? Even you weren’t finished with all your work, being in advanced classes just like Peter, the teachers piled it on every night. It was hard to imagine how much he must have.

“Okay, well I can finish the questions then if you’re still there. Who do you intern for?”

You heard some more movement on the line. “Peter?”

“Yeah.” He let out a deep breath of relief.

“I asked who you intern for.” You repeated.

“Uh. Tony Stark.”

“Woah seriously? That’s so cool!! What do you do?”

He seemed really distracted by something. “I can explain to you tomorrow?”

“Oh. Okay, sure. That works.” You put your attention towards the tv, bringing your knees up to your chest.

“...As the chase continues, NYPD have sent out backup towards the situation…” The screen panned an aerial view of the crash.

“Wow. Have you heard about the crash?” You asked, following along on the news story.

He coughed in surprise at your comment “Y-yeah. Why do you ask?”

“Well, you’re at Avengers Tower so I don’t know, I guess you might know more than me or the news right? There’s a runaway Stark truck.” You laughed a little, trying to cheer the situation up. He seemed uncomfortable.

“Oh, heh. Yeah…” Peter trailed off. “I heard-”

Suddenly his voice disappeared and you heard a weird crash. “Hello?” No answer. “Hello? Peter?” You called. The phone call beeped and ended. Well okay then.

“That was weird.” You commented to yourself, staring at the black screen.

---

“Peter, you’re an idiot. An actual idiot.” He said to himself, watching his phone fall down into the lake, sending ripples outwards once it hit the surface.

Just as Peter was lowering himself down towards the water you had called him...and he answered...as he was hanging halfway down the side of a bridge with nothing but a spider web for support.

“Why would you answer? You could have called back? YOU ALMOST FELL.” Peter continued scolding himself, webbing the tear in the web rope again for extra measure. It had ripped as he was declining towards the lake and of course he’d botched his words.

”YeAH.” He mocked himself, remembering the conversation and how just as the web snapped half-way he sorta fell. “You know it’s fine. Just tell (Y/n) that you’re Spider-man and this all would have gone well.”

“Oh hey, (Y/n)! Whats up? Yeah me too. Nothing much, just chilling. Hanging on a web halfway down a bridge over a lake trying to find a car mirror.”

He tilted his head back in frustration. He’d have to explain what happened to you tomorrow. “Yeah I tripped on the balcony at Avengers Tower and then I dropped my phone off the ledge.” Peter rolled his eyes. “Ned’s gonna get a kick out of this.”

Peter finally made it to the water. A determined red and blue reflection stared back at him. Alright. Back to business.

---

6:12pm

You decided to finish the chemistry worksheet since Peter was still busy with his internship. Retrieving your chem binder, you flipped through the pocket to find the lab papers, clicking your mechanical pencil you began the questions. They weren’t difficult at all, there was just quite a handful of them. Also, being invested in the story on the news didn’t help either as it distracted you. Emergency notifications kept popping up on your phone involving the incident and you were still tuned into 7News.

“..Just in: Officials have reported that the hijacked Stark Industries semi has crashed into one of New York’s finest jewelry shops and stole some of the merchandise. As of right now, we do not know how this relates to the heist. Luckily, with the help of Spider-man, police are closing in on the scene.”

Diamonds? Really? What does that have to do with anything? You sighed and returned to finish the assignments, still wrapped in the blanket that hung around your waist, hoping the situation would be resolved.

After a while, you finally clocked out around 11 and trudged off to your room, forgetting the day’s troubles when your head hit the pillow.

Part One  Part Three

she’d be ecstatic to see you again

so many sniffs and happy barks

“Tess, who is that?! Is that (Y/n)? Go give her some kisses!”

cuddles on the couch immediately after he gets settled in with flavored hot chocolate and your back pressed against his warm chest

his head resting on yours and his fingers dancing across your stomach

responding to snapchats and Tom kissing where your shoulder meets your neck to “show that you’re his”

Tessa nestled in between you two, trying to be apart of the action

so you take a quick pic and caption it “family photo” to post to your story

both of you casually scrolling through your social medias and showing each other cute posts

you see a picture of an apple pie

“could we?”

“I think YES”

sprinting to the kitchen together and ditching the hot chocolate

almost slipping because of the fuzzy socks

but don’t worry, Tom would have caught you

rummaging through the cabinets to find ingredients

struggling to reach the sugar on the top shelf

Tom getting it for you

“here ya go, sugar” he’d say as he grabs it

and then tease you for your height

trying to read off the recipe that's on your phone but Tom comes from behind and grabs your waist

he's a feisty baker

the hottest thing in the room isn't the preheated oven it's you

“you smell like autumn”

“Tom its pronounced fall”

“is not!”

“is too!”

“you’re wrong”

“nope”

“I’m Spider-man”

Tom insisting he mix the ingredients

but instead he ends up getting flour everywhere

and on Tessa too

which also ends up on his insta story

Tom deciding to put the baking session on insta live

“Tom what do we do if the pie actually ends up a failure? All your followers will have tuned in for nothing”

“even if that happens it won't be for nothing, darling because they'll get to see the experience” he says as he sprinkles a bit of flour in your hair

and that turns into a full on kitchen war

you threatening to crack an egg on his head

him spanking you lightly with a spatula

“TOM”

“(Y/N)” he copies back, poking your shoulder with the spatula as you fail to grab it out of his hands

“you’re too fast!”

“cause i'm Spider-man” he flips the camera and rolls his eyes for his followers

they go crazy in the comments

internally screaming crazy

because the two of you are the cutest couple in hollywood right now

you refusing to let him pour the mixture into the pan because he'd obviously spill it

“now as you can see, (y/n) insisted that I stay on the sidelines and not be apart of the fun”

“cause you’d spill it! I know you!”

Tom “accidentally” pushing your hand so you spill filling over the side

“TOM”

“and she thought I would spill it? Pfft.”

Tom making you wear an oven mitt when putting the pie in because he doesn't want you to burn yourself even though you've been baking all your life

he’s a very concerned boyfriend chef

Tom messing up the oven timer twice

“Hi, my name is Tom Holland and I can’t figure out how to work an oven timer” You mock.

“shut up”

“make me”

he makes a suggestive look towards his phone camera and tackle-hugs you so you can’t escape

and he’d tickle you relentlessly on the kitchen floor, pinning your arms above your head with an oven mitt

but during that quick movement his insta live accidentally ended

so the fandom gets another idea of what happened

and every media platform goes fanatic with screenshots and conspiracies within minutes

you surrendering and out of breath

Tom restarting his live while both of you are just laying on the floor together “So previously on the Tom and (Y/n) baking show..”

both of you smiling ear to ear

deciding to answer comments because the pie is baking and you two love interacting with your fans

“why are you two on the floor??” one viewer sends in

“why are we on the floor? good question! I’m sure you can assume why.” He winks.

“TOM!”

Harrison popping up on the insta live in the comments “GET A ROOM”

“well good day to you too, Harrison”

Tom handing you his phone because he had to stop Tessa from barking

“Hey guys! Wanna know some dirty secrets about Tom?” You joke.

floods of “YES” pool into the comments

but before you can dish out anything he comes back and sees them all

“why are they all yelling “YES” at me?”

“noooo reason ;)”

the pie finally is done baking

and the whole apartment smells like cinnamon and apples

“what the fuck (Y/n) how are you such a brilliant cook?”

because Tom is literally stunned at all your abilities

he finishes two slices of pie instantly

possibly burned his tongue

very likely he will have a stomach ache

but it's so worth it

“because I had you as a helper.”

“you’re adorable.”

the night getting colder and darker so you two make your way back to the couch to watch some movies

snuggling under one blanket together

you curled up against his chest, his arm around you

smelling his cologne and almost passing out from bliss, letting out a breathy “fuck”

Tom getting confused “Darling?”

“you’re just smell so damn good” you murmur softly into his chest

Tom getting all red and flustered

he doesn't know how to respond so he just kisses the top of your head and starts to mindlessly play with your hair

that soothes you so so much

“I wouldn’t want to spend the day with anyone else, love”