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Gesturing for him to sit, you avoid taking deep breaths, not wanting the ache to worsen. The cuts on your back were stinging again too, probably from when you had fallen to your back when fighting Spider—when fighting Peter. You still couldn’t believe the two were one and the same. Everything was starting to make sense, and on the way here, you finally figured out when he had become the Spiderman too. When he finally stuck it to Flash in the gym, breaking the glass back of the basketball hoop. The Peter you knew before that day would have never done that.

Peter doesn’t sit, opting to stay by the window near the fire escape. He had no intention of leaving, wanting to know everything. Yet he couldn’t find it in himself to get any closer. Not while you wore that suit. “Was it the explosion at Oscorps four years ago?”

Nodding slowly, you stare out the window behind Peter, looking at the Oscorp building in the distance. There had been an explosion at the sister location near the Hudson river. You weren’t even supposed to be there, but your boss asked you to deliver files to the lead researcher and at the time, you weren’t one to say no to anyone, much less a superior. It was merely bad luck, but to everyone you were incredibly fortunate. To be the sole survivor with little injuries? A miracle. It was nauseating, how quickly everything was swept under the rug after. A hefty check made out in your name and you eventually went quiet too. You couldn’t afford to talk, and Oscorps’ lawyers knew that.

“You know my background, Peter. Money talks in this world.” Looking at your apartment, you note the luxuries you were able to buy. All thanks to your ability to teleport.

“So you decided to steal?”

“I decided to survive.”

“Oh, don’t give me that excuse. I saw the look on your face. You enjoyed it.”

“And so what if I did?” You abruptly stand up, ignoring the pain of your ribs. Your eyes still don’t meet his when you speak, “I’m human. We all have shitty desires—urges. Some of us follow through with it, others don’t.”

“At least make eye contact if you’re going to make a statement like that.”

Peter scoffs at you, making you clench your jaw. What you’ve done broke the law, many laws. You were well aware of that, but if he wanted you behind bars, he would have kept you busy until the cops came. Or he would have left, leaving you to find your own way back and inevitably wait until the police had a warrant out for your arrest. But instead, he escorted you back.

Slumping back in your seat, you involuntarily wince. The boy sitting across you shifts his posture, his face softening as he saw it. Leaning forward slightly, Peter clears his throat. “Are you hurt?”

“Why do you care?” Your voice comes out a little sharper than you like, most likely due to the pain you were in.

Peter ignores your comment, making his way towards you. “Where?”

You could feel Peter’s gaze on you as you kept your eyes closed, head tilted up towards the ceiling. “My ribs. And back. Volnov was able to get a few hits in and I fell through his glass table.”

“Let me see?”

“You want me to undress?” You ask jokingly, once again falling into Blink’s habit of deflecting.

“Oh shut it. Where’s your first-aid kit?”

“It’s in the bathroom, under the sink.” Pointing to the door at the end of the hall with your index finger, you gently press your other hand against your ribcage, easing the ache with pressure.

Peter is quick to come back, holding the kit in his hand. You move your hand away, not wanting him to see how badly you were hurt. The brunette in front of you pulls a stool out from the counter table in your kitchen. He tilts his head down towards it, a silent command for you to sit. Not having it in you to argue, you do as he says.

Sitting down, you remove the straps from your suit. Hesitating, you lift the top of your shirt carefully placing it on the floor. Averting your eyes, you can hear Peter let out a huff of annoyance. You weren’t sure if he was irritated by you getting yourself into messes, or how Volnov injured you. You didn’t have the courage to ask, neither of you speaking on your current relationship. Blink and Spiderman were one thing, Peter and (Y/n) another.

“I’m going to clean the wounds on your back, do you mind leaning forward a little?”

Nodding, you do as he asks. Resting your forearms on your knees, you let your head fall. Feeling a sting on your back, you curse under your breath. Peter is quick to apologize, working faster so you no longer had to endure the stinging. Well if he was angry with you, he was excellent at hiding it.

“You’re good.” Peter tells you, setting the antiseptic down on the counter. Grabbing the compression bandages from the kit, he makes his way towards you. Kneeling down in front of you, he clears your throat, causing you to lift your head up in reaction. Waving the bandages in front of you, you understand his silent message. Standing up slowly, Peter examines the large bruise on your ribs. His gloved hand gently grazes the injury, something stirring in his stomach.

“Not all of us can heal like you.” You comment, breaking the silence. His touch sent shivers down your back, but you were adamantly ignoring the feelings you had. Now that you knew each other's identities, there was no chance of saving this relationship. If there even was one to begin one. With Spiderman, he was your…you weren’t even sure. All you knew was that you liked it.

Peter doesn’t respond to your remark, his eyes only meeting yours. Holding one end of the bandage against your skin, he begins to wrap it around your waist. As he makes sure it’s secure, your hand reaches out, gripping his shoulder as you curse. He mutters another apology, wincing himself.

Looking up at him, you don’t remove your hand from his shoulder. Swallowing a lump in your throat, you find the courage to speak about what happened.

“We should talk.”

“Do you want to talk?”

The two of you speak at the same time, causing a murmur of apologies to escape both of your mouths for cutting off the other. Closing your eyes, you pull away to clean up the mess surrounding the two of you.

“You go first.” You tell Peter, your back facing him as you pack everything up.

He clears his throat, and you hear him shuffling. A small smile forms, reminding you of how he acted in high school when he arrived late to English. Zipping the kit, you finally face him. Back against the counter, you toy with the zipper while looking at him. Peter forces himself to make eye contact with you, not letting his eyes wander anywhere below your face.

“It’s about the vials at Oscorp—”

The hero stops, his attention flickering to your front door. You don’t hear it, but as the key enters the slot, you realize quickly, your roommate was home. Pushing the stool back into place, you and Peter make your way into your room down the other hall. The moment you close your door, the front door opens.

“(Y/n) are you home?” A soft voice comes out from the kitchen.

“Yeah! What are you doing here so early?” You ask, just opening the door wide enough to stick your head out.

“Oh, Nurse Ackerman let me go early. Apparently a few of the new nurses wanted to get in more hours.”

“Lucky you.”

“Right? Anyways, I brought food from that Thai restaurant we like on the corner. Do you want some?” A red-head appears around the corner, dawning navy scrubs and messy hair.

“I’m good, I just ate.” You lie with ease. “I was going to have a friend come over in a bit…”

“Oh.” The girl in front of you laughs, nodding understandingly as she gathers her food and puts the rest of the fridge. “I got you. I’ll just be blaring music in my room.” Waving goodnight, you close the door and wait for her music to play before speaking to Peter.

Pressing your back against the door, your shoulders relax once her music begins playing.

“That’s your roommate?”

“Yeah, her name’s M.J.” Setting the first-aid kit on your desk, you cross your arms. “I don’t see her often, but she’s super nice.”

“Does she know about your adventures?”

Rolling your eyes at his emphasis on adventures, you cross your arms. “Does Aunt May know about yours?”

The two of you stare down at one another, the tension building. Tossing your gloves at him, which he catches with ease, you look out your window. How you hated how Peter made you feel. Lines were blurring, and you couldn’t deal with that.

“The vials from Oscorp?” Peter asks again, drawing you out of your stupor.

“I don’t know about them.” He gives you a look, as if he didn’t entirely believe you. Eyes widening, you lift your hands in annoyance. “Honestly, I don’t! All I know is that there were rumors amongst staff about a break-in and something going missing. Whatever it was, I wanted no part of it. Everything was kept tightly under wraps, not even some of the higher-ups I work with were informed.”

Brown eyes stare you down, trying to decipher whether you were telling the truth or not.

“And why wouldn’t you want to get involved? That’s a lot of money.”

Scoffing, you give him a pointed look. “I’ve learned to not mess with corporations like Oscorp.”

“Right.” His sarcastic tone snaps something in you. Huffing, you stalk towards him, eyes narrowed.

“If you don’t believe me, why not use that Spidey sense of yours? Or your hearing?”

Peter doesn’t answer you, and you only antagonize him more.

“I can’t use it around you.”

Opening your mouth to give another remark, Peter stands up, effectively silencing you.

“I can’t use it around you because you distract me. You fill my senses and frankly, it’s irritating.”

You’re stunned at his confession, if you could call it that. His annoyance was throwing you off, but you were in the same boat. He looks down at you, and for once you realize how much taller he is than you. Gulping, you don’t break eye contact, refusing to back down. He inhales through his nose, his shoulders tensing slightly.

“It’s irritating.” He repeats.

“I could say the same about you.” You quip, a look of annoyance crossing your features.

Peter runs his fingers through his hair in exasperation, fighting his feelings as he looks at you. He had always wanted to ask you out in high school, and when he finally mustered up the courage, he had become Spiderman. Seeing you live life so brightly, he knew he couldn’t bring you into his mess. It was a heavy burden, and you didn’t deserve any of it. After the explosion at Oscorp, it only cemented his reasoning. He could survive being a friend, if he was even that to you. So long as he got to spend two hours in a class with you, he would accept it. As long as New York was safe, you were safe.

But then Blink appeared, and he was someone who drove him crazy. In a different way. The way you acted as your alias was strikingly different, but as he realized you were her, he could make the connections now. There were similarities, although very difficult to discern. When he had discovered you were Blink, he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to yell at you for your past actions, or kiss you in the heat of the moment. Frankly, when dressing your wounds, he was glad he did neither.

“What are you doing to me?” Peter’s voice was weak, his hands cupping your cheeks as he looked at you with soft eyes.

“Don’t blame—”

Desires.

“Just shut up."

Urges.

Staring into your eyes, feeling the softness of your skin, he presses his lips against yours. Your body relaxes against his, arms dropping from their crossed position. He steps back, hitting the back of his knees against your bed. The two of you fall and Peter is careful to make sure you don’t move too much and strain your ribs.

Breaking the kiss, the two of you quietly pant for air, foreheads pressed against one another. There are butterflies in your stomach and you feel tingles everywhere Peter has touched you. Gripping his suit, the two of you stare into each other's eyes. Never had you wanted to be a better person in this world. Not when it has scorned you so badly, leaving you backed into a corner.

Gaining your powers was a gift. You were no longer forced under the hand of those with power and money. For once, you could hit them as hard as life had hit you. But as you looked at Peter, your eyes searched for something negative. That he was manipulating, that it was all just a ploy to get you to tell him what he wanted, yet you saw nothing but adoration.

Kissing him once more, you cup his face as he tenderly places his hands on your hips.

“I’ll try and do better.”

It was a promise, and though you couldn’t guarantee you would be able to do a complete one-eighty right away. The least you could do was try and make New York a better place. To help those who weren’t gifted with an ability to fight against the corrupters of society.

And for Peter, as he finally got to hold you and no longer feel like he was miles away from you.

That’s all he could ask for.

Strange nods. You watch in silence, his hands hovering over yours until he begins pulling golden threads out from the palms of your hands. Symbols start to appear above them, expanding until they go purple. The once golden lines begin to splinter, appearing in various shades of purple. The sorcerer in front of you is quick to stop whatever he’s doing, his expressionless face leaving you to wonder in worry.

“Were you blipped?”

“No, I wasn’t. Why?”

“We’ve been noticing a lot more people with abilities since Thanos wiped half of the population and was brought back. It’s not a lot, but more than enough to draw concern. It was always going to be a possibility given that people were affected by the stones.”

“But I’m not one of those who disappeared.”

He starts the spell again, this time more cautiously. The golden strands appear once more, this time only circling around you.“I never said the people who blipped were the only ones with abilities. All of us were affected by the stones.”

“If we’re going with that theory, then why did my ‘ability’ show up so late?”

Again, purple begins to appear, though this time without the splintering. He continues, his pace going slower than before. “Certain events in our lives can trigger it. When did yours start appearing?”

“It was after the incident at the Statue of Liberty.” The memories of that day were foggy, though you simply chalked up to trauma until now. Your body was merely protecting you from the events that occurred that night. Every time you tried to think about it, to figure out what happened, the memories got more blurry. But now that you thought about it more deeply, perhaps it wasn’t purely trauma. 

No.

You were having dreams now, seeing someone you had never met before. Hearing a name that you could never remember when you woke up. And now, certain dreams became more vivid. You would be in New York, but not your New York. Your apartment complex would be gone in one. In another, no one knew of the Avengers, and in the most recent, people with superpowers didn’t exist. They were merely characters in comics and films. 

Dreams. That’s all they were. That is until you received a cut on your cheek from a window breaking near you. When you woke up, you felt a familiar sting on your cheek. You began to tread more carefully after that. 

“You’re entering different Earths.” Strange concludes, ending the spell. 

“I’m sorry, different Earths? Are you telling me the multiverse is real?” 

“Very real.” The levitating platform the both of you were on begins to descend. “Until I can figure out a way to subdue your abilities, whenever you appear on a different Earth, mind your business and keep your head down.”

“And (L/n)?” Strange calls as you reach for the door. 

“Yes?”

“For the sake of our universe, and every other one out there. Don’t attempt to use your abilities when awake.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. 

———

That night, you once again entered a different universe. 

This one was different, though something felt off. You had appeared at someone’s apartment, but not yours. Carefully making your way through the apartment, you make sure to avoid leaving any signs that you were there. Looking out into the night sky, you spot the familiar Empire State Building, but no Avengers Tower. No Stark Tower. Instead, you see the name “Oscorp Industries” decorating a building in green lights. The name sounded oddly familiar, tickling something in the back of your brain, but the harder you tried, the worse the headache. For that reason, you had long given up on trying to discern those memories.

Looking at the digital clock on the nightstand, you bite your lip as you note the time. You had no idea how long you would be here for. Time worked differently on each Earth. Your alarm would go off in eight hours. However, that meant little to you. For on one Earth, that was only a few minutes. Yet on another, it took an entire twenty-four hours. There was no consistency, and you had yet to learn how to take yourself back of your own will. 

Standing in the center of the small apartment, you gently sway back and forth, debating on whether you should leave the apartment or explore. You had yet to meet yourself in another universe, and you hoped to keep it that way. 

Doctor Strange did say to keep a low profile, and if you were honest, the man slightly intimidated you. Magic was not your thing. Science was. If he said to keep a low profile, you most certainly would.

Hearing a window slide open, you no longer have to debate. Running was your only option now. Placing your hand on the doorknob, you barely have the chance to turn it before hearing a familiar sound. Your hand was stuck on the knob, a web firmly keeping it there. Just your luck, you had broken into Spiderman’s apartment. 

“Listen—” You start talking first, anxiety getting the better of you. “This is all just a mistake. I entered the wrong apartment, you see.” 

You continue to ramble, turning your attention to the hero. As soon as you see the suit, you cut yourself off. It was different from Spiderman back in your New York. The spider at the front was more elongated, and the eyes of his mask were differently shaped. 

“(Y/n)?”

Well, shit. 

“Yes?” Your voice is timid, heart racing as you attempt to figure out the situation. Though your thoughts don’t get very far as you find yourself in someone’s embrace. Feeling the suit against your skin, you’re startled by the sudden action but not uncomfortable. Oddly, it felt familiar. The hero pulls away slightly, removing his mask so you can see one another. 

Meeting dark brown eyes, you stare at the face of Spiderman, well, a Spiderman. Images ran through your mind, some too fast for you to understand. Stealing Stark tech, going to Midtown High, helping three Spidermen. 

Stumbling slightly, the man in front of you holds you steady, keeping you from hitting the floor. His arms stay wrapped around your waist, face filled with worry as he wondered what was going on. Wincing, you bring your hand to your face, putting pressure against your forehead to ease the headache. It slowly subsides, and you’re able to get your bearings again. 

“Peter?” 

The two of you look at one another, your arms now gripping his biceps as everything begins to make sense. Strange’s spell had wiped your memory. Everyone’s memories. Feeling your heart deflate, you stare at the Peter in front of you. Would he recognize you as the (Y/n) from the other universe? Not his (Y/n) who had died?

“I thought I was Peter #3?” He’s joking, but you can tell by the way his voice cracks at the end that he was just as emotional. 

Laughing quietly, you pull him into an embrace. The both of you stay that way for a while, neither of you believing that the other was here. Slowly pulling away, the two of you sit down to properly catch up.

“How are you here?” 

“Remember the magician?” Peter nods, placing his mask on the table. You continue, telling him all the events that occurred and how that’s why you were older than Peter, M.J, and Ned. He had placed his hand on top of yours during that part, sensing your distraught. Clearing your throat, you continue, eyes flickering away from him as shyness comes over. You were sure he could hear your heart racing. 

“And so every night I’ve been jumping to different universes. I have no control, but I’m doing my best to stay safe. At least until Doctor Strange can help me control it.”

There’s a hopefulness in your voice. If you could control it, you could come and see Peter again. The two of you looked at one another, and you could see the hope in his eyes as well. Biting the inside of your cheek, you look out the window, seeing snowfall. 

“Do you want to go out for a swing?” Peter asks, voice shy.

“I’d love to.”

There was no telling when you would disappear and come back again, but for now, Peter would gladly enjoy the time he had with you. He had slipped on his mask, handing you a hoodie of his to hide your appearance before taking you outside. You never had the opportunity to do this before, but it was breathtaking. Not at first, though. Your stomach felt like it was in your throat at the beginning, but as the two of you stood at the top of the Empire State Building, fingers laced together, you didn’t regret a second of it. 

As the sun rose up, the scene in front of you flickered purple. Squeezing Peter’s fingers, he could tell what you were about to say. You were leaving. Turning your attention towards him, you smile.

“I’ll be back. I promise.” 

Removing one of the rings on your finger, you take his hand, placing it in his palm.

“See you soon, Peter.”

“Bye, (Y/n).”

The world ripples and you find yourself losing Peter’s warmth gradually before it disappears entirely. You know you’ve returned to your universe when you reappear on your bed, your alarm blaring next to you on your nightstand. Turning it off, you wrap yourself in your sheets as you stare out the window. There was no Oscorp, no Peter #3, but there was a Peter #1 who had no one right now. 

Until you could see the boy who had snatched your heart again, you would search for this universe’s Peter and remind him he was not alone. 

And meanwhile, the Peter in the other universe would gladly wait for your return. 

Happiness was not lost. 

"What'd I miss?" Hearing a familiar Queen's accent, you perk up, your heart ever so slightly skipping a beat. The seat next to yours is suddenly filled, and you look to your right to see Peter Parker looking over at you with a smile.

"Nothing important. The professor was just discussing how he'll be curving everyone's final grade depending on how we do on the final."

Peter clumsily sets his skateboard down near your feet, making a loud noise as he does so. You hold back a laugh as a few of your peers glance back, wondering what was going on. As soon as they notice it's Peter, they're quick to turn back around, used to his antics. Your eyes flicker back towards the professor, a small smile on your lips as you do.

Peter Parker. 

A person who brought you a sense of normalcy, some solace in your new life. Neither of you were close, despite having gone to high school together and coincidentally being in a few of the same classes at your university due to overlapping requisites to graduate. You couldn't really call him a friend, but he was familiar. He kept a part of you at bay, the one that appeared when you discovered you had abilities. The part of you that didn't regard others and only sought to satisfy their selfish desires. 

"Hey, do you want to study tomorrow for the final?" 

Looking at Peter, you allow yourself to briefly admire his fluffy brown hair, his warm eyes that were always so comforting. "Tomorrow? S-Sure."

You curse at yourself for stuttering, wishing you had your alter-ego's confidence. Thankfully, Peter doesn't acknowledge it, only smiling before turning his attention back to the lecture. For the rest of the two hours, you spend all your energy ignoring your anticipation for tonight. It was a different type of feeling, an excitement that came when you stole something that was considered impossible to do so. An excitement that you got when you saw—when you saw Spiderman. 

Peter quickly catches your attention again, murmuring an apology for distracting you. He explains that sometimes he has to abruptly cancel his plans. Aunt May would need him for something, sometimes picking her up from work so she wouldn't have to walk alone in the dark. 

Appreciating his love for his aunt, you nod understandingly. "It's not a problem. It is what it is, you know?"

———

As you appear on the roof of the Metropolitan Museum, a smirk appears on your lips as you see Spiderman lying in wait. Sneakily making your way towards him, you don't get the chance to wrap your arms around his neck, his hearing far too enhanced compared to yours. He's quick to hear you, the sound of you warping, your feet touching gravel, and the sound of your heart as you make your way closer. He envied you, how you could keep a steady heart rate near him when his raced when in close proximity to you.

"Well look who it is." You murmur softly, a teasing tone in your voice. "I didn't know you were a fan of art." 

Spiderman shakes his head, looking at you briefly before looking through the glass ceiling, tracking Volnov's henchmen as they move the exhibit's pieces in wooden crates. "I'm not, but it's suspicious that Volnov would be funding an art exhibit. Not sure if you met the guy, but he's not one for art. What about you? Here to steal some art?" 

It was a genuine question, you could tell from the shift in his posture. Crouching down next to him, you laugh. "Not tonight. I'm actually here to see what Volnov's up to, maybe meddle with his plans."

"You shouldn't, Blink." Spiderman whips his head towards you, his voice displaying concern. "These men are dangerous. You don't want to get involved—"

"I can handle myself, Spidey." You cut him off, grabbing him lightly by the chin as you stare at him. If only he knew what you did last night. "But thanks for the concern. It's cute." 

"So what's our plan?" Pressing your hand against the glass, you scan the area below, deciding on where it would be best to teleport.

"Our plan? There is no 'our' in this." You could just imagine the look on his face as he said that, the scoff under his breath as he attempted to argue the notion of you two ever working together.

Rolling your eyes, you give him a look. While he would never admit it, the two of you worked incredibly well together. Even when the both of you were known to work alone, and—you know—you being a villain, working together felt unnaturally natural. 

With a slight tilt of your head and eyes narrowed, you stare him down until he relents. He's first to share what he knows, you doing so after. Albeit, withholding some information to not incriminate yourself. Fixing your mask, you stand up, irises white as you focus on a location. 

"See you inside, Spidey." Blowing a kiss, you chuckle as you appear inside the museum. Hiding behind one of the large wooden crates, you examine your surroundings. Peering down the other entryways, you quickly do a headcount before peering up above you. 

"There's about fifteen to your right, and seventeen on your left. I only saw four behind me in the other room. You got that?" Looking up, you watch as the hero gives a thumbs up before disappearing from view, presumably to go find his own way in. 

Lucky bastard with his super hearing. 

Swiftly you move throughout the exhibit, disappearing and reappearing behind whatever you could to keep your cover. Slinking around a corner, you hear Volnov bark orders at his men, telling them to be careful when moving the cargo. Filled with annoyance at the man who had successfully left a bruise on you, your fingers tingle with anticipation, attention zeroing on him.

"I wouldn't if I were you." Your back is pressed against the wall, arms encasing you, preventing you from moving. "You're quick, but are you sure you can dodge a rain of bullets?"

Looking up at your captor, your shoulders relax as you realize it's Spiderman. Letting your head rest on the wall, you tighten your jaw. "Not sure, but I'm willing to test that theory." 

"Don't be so reckless."

You don't make a sarcastic retort, only tilting your head in the direction of Volnov and his men. The sooner Spiderman figured out what the cargo was and handled it, the sooner you could complete your goal. Making Volnov suffer. You and the hero make eye contact, counting down to three. He makes his grand reveal, calling everyone's attention and leaving you a window of opportunity to find out what was in those crates. 

You warp towards the crates as soon as you hear the sounds of grunts and webs being shot. Picking the largest one, you're quick in opening it. Furrowing your brow, you discover that there were copper sculptures. Touching them, you determine that they weren't made of what they appeared. They were hollow and far too light to be copper. Grabbing one from the top, you break it in half, revealing safely packed vials. Examining them more closely, you narrow your eyes as you realize where they came from. 

Oscorp Industries. 

There had been reports of stolen samples, though of what you never knew. Things were kept tightly under wraps, and you had forgotten the incident, deciding it was not your problem. Touching the crate, you build the energy to move multiple containers to a different location. 

"If any of them move, if you move so much as a muscle, a bullet goes in your head." A Russian accent comes from behind as the barrel of a gun is pressed against your head. 

"Ah, Volnov! I was wondering when you would show up." Your tone is joking, hiding your building anger towards the man and signaling Spiderman that you were in a minor predicament. "It's not polite to point weapons at friends' heads."

"Neither is it to steal from them, but you had no trouble doing that to me yesterday."

"Ah but that was yesterday, and today is today!" Slowly turning around, you make eye contact with the man. He was in his early fifties, dressed in a crisp suit and tie. He would have seemed like any ordinary businessman, at least, if his hands and necks weren't covered in tattoos. "Can't you forgive me?"

"Rot in hell, Blink."

"You first." 

Your light-hearted demeanor changes, a scowl replacing your smile as you reappear behind Volnov. The gun is ripped out of his hands, flung across the room before he is bound by Spiderman's webs. Kicking him behind the leg, so he drops to his knees, you're quick to check his pockets for anything else. 

"There are vials in the sculptures. They were just using the exhibit as a cover to move them to their next location." Brushing any loose hair strands away, you glance around to see the rest of Volnov's henchmen incapacitated. You were impressed, but you'd never admit it aloud to the hero. 

"Where are they from?" 

"Beats me," you lie. You bend down, forcing Volnov to smile by pulling at his cheeks, "But I bet our friend here would know." 

The man below murmurs a string of curses in his native tongue, and though you weren't fluent, you could get the gist of what he was saying. Rolling your eyes, you sway on the balls of your feet before quickly knocking him out. 

"What'd you do that for?" 

Peter was bewildered, not understanding why'd you do something like that all of a sudden. Tonight was different. You weren't your usual self. Of course, usual wasn't a word he would use to describe you, but given what happened, there was something off. You had a personal vendetta against Volnov.

"Just cause." 

Feeling the hero grab your wrist, you look down at where his hand was before looking back up at him. "This has to do with yesterday, right? Volnov mentioned that you stole from him. Is that true, Blink?" 

"No! Well—maybe. But it cancels out, doesn't it? It's not like I was stealing from good people, I was stealing from the Russian mafia." By your mannerisms, Peter could tell you weren't concerned at all. 

"You're going to get yourself hurt."

"Like I said, Spidey. I can take care of myself. Besides, when you're in this industry, getting hurt is kind of expected. It is what it is."

It is what it is.

Peter stiffens, his grasp on your wrist becoming tighter. It wasn't a common phrase, not in the city of New York. Yet there was one person, one individual, who had said it in high school and continued to do so well into college. When things went wrong, when plans didn't go according to plan. No matter the situation, they held it together, powering through as they understood that the world would not always be generous.

(Y/n) (L/n).

(Y/n) was someone who made him smile as Peter Parker, who had given him a reason to appreciate and understand why he kept his identity anonymous. From high school, he could remember you as the school's wallflower. He wasn't much different, still isn't, but at the very least, you were an active participant and didn't shy away from helping others. But after he met Blink, he was racked for guilt. For thinking of you and the villain he chased. How he admired both qualities in the two of you. 

And as he stood in front of Blink, he could now imagine your face behind the mask.

"You good, Spidey?" You ask, gently tugging your wrist. To no avail, he doesn't let go, only continuing to stare. 

Something felt wrong. You could feel it in your gut. His other hand slowly reaches for your face, and that's when you realize it. He was planning to take off your mask. "Something tells me you're not going to let me go so easily this time."

You're able to dodge it before it happens, warping away to the other side of the room as he uses his web shooter. "Come on, Spiderman. Talk to me."

The hero doesn't respond, only stalking towards you. You internally debate, wondering if you should just make a break for it or fight. Both options weren't great, but if he attempted to unmask you, you would do the same to him. 

Eyes flashing white, you use your ability to your advantage. He was quick, his reflexes and senses far advanced in comparison to you. Yet you knew what made him tick, how a giggle in his ear and a brush of your hand could make him stumble. It wasn't necessarily fair, but you didn't play by the rules. 

You appear, disappear, and then reappear. You had gotten a few solid punches and kicks in, all thanks to your suggestive comments when you could make them. But it didn't matter, not when he was so determined. As you reappear on his right, slightly behind, you feel his elbow dig into your left side, your injured left side. The pain reverberates throughout your body, causing you to falter and lose your focus. 

The hero wastes no time, turning his body towards you. You find yourself on the ground, hands pinned down by your side, as Spiderman hovers above you. Peter felt his heart pounding in his chest, and he could hear yours too. If he were right—no, he didn't want to be right. He could let this all go, live blissfully ignorant, and ignore all the signs. But that wasn't who he was. Running his finger along the edge of your mask, you feel his fingers brush the nape of your neck before unclasping it from the back of your head. 

Panic sets, your eyes wide as he takes his time in removing it. You sense him hesitating, and you quickly waste no time directing your attention to his mask. Never had you removed something so closely on a person, not like this. Anything could go wrong. You had seen what happened when you attempted to warp a living organism. 

Yet it worked, as your mask clattered to the side of you, and Spiderman's mask now in your clenched fist, your eyes met those of someone you would never dare to imagine. 

Peter Parker.