SUMMARY:Peter wholeheartedly regrets not coming back to Y/N’s apartment and tries his best to stay away for her sake. She continues to think of him as her career begins to take off. Spiderman sees her during a battle and has to make a deal for her safety.
Peter laid on his bed, staring mindlessly at the noisy fan that clicked away above him as he tried to fall asleep. He’d probably watched it spin around hundreds or thousands of times every night, trying to rid his mind of her. She lingered in his every waking thought and visited during his dreams.
“Jesus Christ,” He whispered, rubbing his hands on his face in aggravation. “Okay, stupid multiverse-god-thing. Very funny. She’s the one, I get it! Just let me sleep..”
He found himself thinking of her eyes and the way they darted around aimlessly as she talked as if they were following her train of thought. He thought about her voice and the way it got raspy as the night progressed and her drowsiness with it. He accidentally caused a small explosion at the lab earlier in the day because his mind was on her. Her plump lips; the way they moved when she spoke or, god, when she smiled.
He flipped onto his stomach and groaned into his pillow with frustration.
He wanted nothing more than to wait for her to return to the apartment and take him to her favorite diner in the city on that day. He felt his heart sink when he felt the familiar tingle, knowing he’d have to leave her stranded to chase after his newest enemy. He didn’t have time to leave a note. He had a responsibility to protect the innocent; it normally came with the cost of hurting or losing someone he loved. As much as he hated to admit it, as bad as he wanted her, he needed to stay away.
Butboy did he want her. His mind wouldn’t let him simply forget about the destiny written by the fates; the story of Spiderman and MJ, an inevitable romance that spanned through multiple universes, his being no exception. He wanted her to take him to the diner. He wanted to walk her home and kiss her sweetly before making plans for a second date. He wanted to fall for her. At times, he wanted to ignore his power and abandon his responsibility all in hopes of living a domestic and happy life with this woman.
But alas, the world didn’t stop turning for him; not in his darkest times, much less in the hopeful ones. Duty called. The Collector continued to wreak havoc on the city of New York, and Peter had no other option but to fight. Yet, he couldn’t help but wonder how she reacted when she arrived home.
Little did he know that after her meeting, she’d gone through the effort of ordering two of her usual coffee for the man who had painted the everlasting, smitten grin on her lips. She had gone through her day with a coy smile, anticipating and craving his presence. She rushed home, opening her apartment door to be greeted by a soul-shattering silence.
No number, no address, no way to contact the perfect man she had woken up next to only a few hours prior. She’d searched every room, hoping the sinking feeling in her stomach would be replaced by the warm one she’d felt that same morning but there was nothing but her usual empty and silent apartment. Her smile faded and eyes blurred, left with no other option but to drink both coffees and move on with the day.
It had been almost two weeks now since their interaction. He’d seen her at the scenes of The Collector’s attacks, observing Spider-man’s every move and defending him mercilessly in her New York Times column; The Daily Herald. He’d make it a point to pick it up every morning on his way to work and read it on the train ride. Her words were piercing and revolutionary, changing the minds of thousands of citizens a day. It seemed that as time carried on, Peter noticed more and more pedestrians reading and talking about her articles.
He sighed, looking at the clock. Sleep now weighed heavily on his lids as his thoughts slowed to a single image; her. Y/N was engraved into his mind; he saw her vividly every time his eyes fluttered shut. And with that, he slowly drifted into a restless slumber, unaware that she laid under the same sky with the same striking memory replaying on a loop in her own mind.
———
The city had been quieter than usual; everyone hid away in the safety of their own home in fear of being caught in The Collector’s terrorizing paralysis. Tourists mostly steered clear of New York, and those who had the privilege of working from home rarely dared to leave their apartments. The attacks were more frequent and deadly. declining in morality at the villain’s mind declined in its strange illness.
Y/N mindlessly stared at the pedestrians who rushed past the cafe window. She was meant to be writing the next day’s article. Though it was a seemingly impossible task with the endless daydreams and memories of the night spent with a perfect stranger. She’d never quite managed to rid her mind of him completely.
She rarely remembered her dreams yet couldn’t seem to forget the one she woke from that same morning. His warm brown eyes, his soft chuckle, the tint of his blushing cheeks, the shape of his lips, the way he said her name- it was all the same.
The beginnings of rain snapped her out of her thoughts. She smiled as it began to sprinkle the fast-paced crowd outside, watching as some children held their arms up and stuck their tongues out before being ushered off by their parents. For a split second, it felt like the same city again; bustling with life and noise. It felt like home again.
The moment was interrupted by a loud crash, and suddenly the sweet scene from just seconds before melted into disarray. The same kids she watched happily embrace the rain were now being pulled into buildings by their mothers. A crowd of people ran down the street in blind chaos, screaming so loud that the windows rattled.
“‘Scuse me! Comin’ through!” She heard someone yell before seeing the familiar red vigilante sprint past the window. He shot a web and launched himself forward, sending him out of sight.
The Collector, she thought as she closed her laptop and quickly stuffed it in her bag before running outside. She only caught a small glimpse of the battle before it moved out of sight, it seemed that the enemy kept developing new weapons; this time it was a motorcycle that sped effortlessly between crowds and buildings. She followed the screams and ran against the swarm of panicked pedestrians, paying little mind to the mayhem.
She kept seeing glimpses of red turn corners, missing the majority of the action. She sprinted at full speed at this point, knowing damn well the danger she was putting herself in but putting the thought aside for the opportunity to write about a first-hand Spiderman experience. The adrenaline kept her legs moving and thoughts silenced for a few more minutes before she finally slowed down.
She turned another corner, only to see a frozen congregation of people that looked like something from a River Styx painting. She stopped in her tracks, backing behind a wall before deciding on whether or not to proceed. Then she saw it; Spiderman holding the watch in his hand as The Collector yanked at the makeshift web cuffs on his wrists to no avail. The motorcycle was dangling to the building above.
“Oh, my sweet boy,” The older man chuckled, shooting his foe a bone-chilling grin. “This would’ve all been over by now if you killed me when you had the chance.”
“It could’ve been prevented if you would’ve just listened to me,” Spiderman spoke up, breathing heavily with anger and despair. “The cure wasn’t worth the madness. The old you would’ve preferred death over the man you’ve become.”
“Kill me,“ He purred, smiling like the Cheshire cat. “Or I will personally see to your loved ones’ deaths. Starting with that old-“
A web suddenly covered his mouth. The Collector’s eyes widened before he squirmed around and screamed.
“What was that? Starting with who?” Spiderman asked, stepping closer to his muffled words and cupping his ear. “Just a little louder, man. I can’t quite understand you.”
He fumbled a bit with the watch for a moment as the wailing sirens grew closer. The silence burst into screams and the sounds of a stampede, civilians running every which way. Y/N could no longer hear the conversation but watched as Spiderman walked up to the man and whispered something in his ear, causing The Collector to fall still. She dared to step out from behind the wall, trying to hear what was being said.
It was no use trying to run against the roaring crowd. She felt people slam into her and shove her out of the way as she attempted to approach her targets. The sirens grew deafening as she halted to a stop, giving up any chance of getting close before the cops ushered her away.
The masked man looked to his left to see the cop cars begin to swarm in. That’s when he saw her. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of the woman standing amid the paranoid mob that ran against her. He dared not look for too long, not wanting to give any hint of recognition.
“Well, that’s my cue,” Spiderman nodded toward the cops before shooting a web up towards a nearby skyscraper. “I meant what I said. Behave.”
“Wait!” Y/N stepped forward only to see him fly into the sky once again. “I-.. And you’re gone. Great.”
“Out of the way!” The cops called as they shoved people away from the man in web constraints.
“How many times have we told you that you can’t be at these scenes, Y/L/N?” A familiar cop barked, grabbing at her shoulders to pull her away. She turned to see that it was the chief of police, an old friend of her father’s. “It’s dangerous. You can get a quote later.”
“Chief Johnson, it’s part of-“
“Your job, yeah, yeah, I’ve heard your spiel before. It’s my job to clear the premises so get the fuck out of here!” He rolled his eyes, shoving her towards the cop cars. She looked back at The Collector as a cop recited his rights and cuffed him. “MJ! Go!”
“Fine! I’m gone,” She held up her hands defensively before turning on her heels. “Damn, who pissed in your fucking cereal this morning?”
“Don’t you have something better to write about?” He called after her. She stopped in her tracks. “He’s a menace to society!”
“He hasn’t killed anyone so what does that make you?” She asked, shrugging with her hands before turning to leave.
Y/N rolled her eyes as she turned the corner. She hated cops, but specifically the ones on Johnson’s crew. He used to be someone she was fond of until she found out about all of the injustice and corruption that he and his coworkers partook in.
“Fucking pig.”
———
After returning to the cafe, Y/N spent the next few hours writing and perfecting the article, making sure to explain the events that unfolded only hours before. She lost track of time, only leaving when the barista informed her that they’d be closing soon.
The streets were bustling with people celebrating the newfound freedom that came from The Collector’s imprisonment. She smiled at the lively crowds that gathered in the East Village, giggling at the people who decided to sport Spiderman masks. New York City was restored to its buoyant state.
She took the usual train home and walked a few blocks towards her apartment, opting to take a shortcut through the same alley she’d found Peter in.
The city’s sounds were muffled in the dark space; it was instead filled with the echo of her footsteps bouncing off of the dirty walls and rusty trash cans. She walked for a few minutes before realizing that she heard a second pair of footsteps behind hers. Taking a quick glance over her shoulder, she noticed the silhouette of a familiar skintight bodysuit.
“You’re that Daily Herald journalist,” The voice from earlier spoke. “Y/L/N, right?”
“Depends,” She adjusted her backpack as she turned to face him. “Who’s asking?”
She heard a breathy chuckle before he walked into the light, showing off his brilliant red suit.
“Just figured I’d say thank you. Before your column, most people saw me as a threat. But tonight.. I’ve never seen so many-”
“Fans?” She suggested.
“Well, I was going to say Spidermen in one place,” He chuckled once more. “But I like the sound of fans a lot better.”
She smiled. “Well, it’s no problem. I’m just writing the truth. It’s part of the job.”
“Is it part of the job to follow me around too?” He questioned.
“Oh, that? No, that’s just for fun,” She deadpanned before laughing. The man chuckled. “So did you really go through the trouble of finding out where I live just to thank me and ask if I was following you around?”
“Actually no. My main purpose of coming out here was to tell you to be careful,” He continued, making her furrow her brows. “Look, I don’t want you getting hurt on my behalf. Stop following me, alright?”
“And lose my job? Pass. But I appreciate the concern,” She turned to leave before a web blocked her path.
“I’m serious. Just-.. Be more careful. There have been lesser-known journalists that have died for less. If I see you in the middle of a fight again, I’ll have to web you to a wall or something,” He said sternly, making her smile.
“Web me to a wall?! No, please, Spiderman! I promise to stop following you around!” She cried out sarcastically. “How was that?”
“How was the acting or comedic presentation?”
“Both.”
“It was god awful,” He answered nonchalantly, making her chuckle. “What do I have to do to get you to stop following me?”
“Meet me here every night and tell me about your battles.”
“No way,” He protested. “Do you have any idea how much danger I put you in just by visiting tonight?”
She narrowed her eyes in thought before pulling her backpack off of her shoulder and taking out a small business card.
“Email me then,” She said, holding out the card. He looked down at her hand. “I can’t afford to lose this job. So it’s either this or I keep following you around.”
“You want me to report back to you after every battle?” He grumbled, looking back at her. She raised her brows, waving the card. He hesitantly took it. “Even the nightly patrols?”
“You do nightly patrols?” Her eyes widened. “I didn’t know that. But, yeah, that’d be ideal. If you can’t get around to it though, I’d settle for a weekly update.”
“Okay, deal,” He said after a brief moment of consideration. “You sure it won’t cause any tension between you and a boyfriend?”
“I’m sure he won’t mind, considering he’s nonexistent,” She smiled again before shrugging, choosing to ignore the inquisitive, flirtatious tone. “Currently too busy being caught up on someone I met once to fall for somebody new.”
Peter felt his breath hitch in his throat at the confession. She was talking about him. Not only that, but she rejected what she thought was another man because she liked him. He felt a hot blush graze his cheeks, grateful for the opportunity to be able to hide behind a mask as he heard that, and simply nodded.
“But I should probably get inside to finish up tomorrow’s story,” She continued. “If you could email me at least every Thursday so I have the weekend to work on an article, that’d be great.”
“Will do,” He said, not quite being able to wipe the smile off of his masked face as he watched her sling her backpack on again.
“Nice to finally meet you, Spidey,” She said before walking off, turning back to flash him that heart-melting smile before disappearing behind the corner. “I expect to hear about today’s fight!”
———
Peter smiled as he read the morning paper, reading a direct quote from the email he’d sent the previous night. He had to go to four different places to finally get The Times; the entirety of New York seemed to be carrying around, reading or talking about The Daily Herald.
“Hey, man,” His favorite coworker greeted as he walked into the laboratory’s downstairs cafeteria. “Ah, catching up on The Daily Herald, I see?”
“Hey. Yeah, me and everyone else it seems like,” Peter said, looking around at the people holding their phones or the paper, all reading or talking about the previous day’s events.
“Crazy fight, huh?” Caleb continued with a big grin, setting down his lunch and mimicking Spider-man’s web shooting stance. “I saw it in person! He was all Wa Pow and Ha Ya!”
“You didn’t see it, did you?”
“Not even a glimpse,” He smirked, taking his usual seat in front of him. “But that article was crazy, dude. Reading it made it feel like I was there. I think she even incorporated a Wa Pow in there and everything.”
“I see you didn’t skip out on your Adderall this morning,” Peter chuckled.
“Oh, fuck off,” Caleb laughed, before looking around at their coworkers in the cafeteria. “Feels like I stepped into some weird time portal. I don’t remember the last time I saw so many newspapers in one room.”
“Hey, I have a favor to ask,” Peter said, setting down the paper next to him and earning a hummed response from his friend. “You think you can cover for me for the rest of the day? There’s this girl that I really like and I found out that she-“
“If I say yes, will you spare me your love life details? I don’t need to know about another one of your casual hookups,” He sighed. Peter chuckled; he rarely ever had hookups. It was mostly an excuse to get out of work or other activities to go fight crime.
“It’s not a hookup, actually,” He corrected, making his friend’s jaw drop dramatically.
“You mean my horniest friend decided to put his trashy whore days behind him? Did you like suddenly become religious?” Caleb asked. “Oh my god… Are you dying?”
“What? No, I’m not dying,” Peter rolled his eyes. “Remember that girl I told you about? The one that patched me up after I got jumped?”
He might’ve stretched the truth a little on that too.
“Shut up. You’re actually gonna go back?” Grey leaned in, soaking in the gossip. “I knew you would! Yeah, I’ll cover for you. We’re waiting on a shipment so they’ll probably let us off early anyway.”
“Oh, dude, I owe you one!” Peter grinned before frantically gathering his things into his bag. “I could kiss you!”
Peter practically ran out of the building after he changed into his suit. He shot a web to a nearby skyscraper before launching himself into the air and heading towards the East Village. He stopped only a few blocks away from her building to change his clothes before walking up the familiar streets. He passed a small flower stand, leaving a twenty as he grabbed a set of purple flowers. “Keep the change!”
He finally made his way up to her apartment building, catching the door as someone exited and walking up the stairs to the fourth floor, stopping at the third apartment on the left.
This was it.
He took a deep breath, preparing something to say before he raised his hand up to her door to knock, only to be greeted with it flying open and a gasp.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” Y/N yelped, holding her hand to her heart. She looked up at the man standing before her with a smile, holding the flowers up. Her features softly melted into an expression of amused disbelief. “.. Peter?”
“Hi,” He greeted softly.
“What are you doing here?” She furrowed her brows, a hint of a smile teasing at the corners of her lips. “Wait- how’d you get up here?”
“Caught the door as someone was leaving,” He pointed behind him, looking into her Y/E/C eyes that danced back and forth between his own. “Can I come in?”
“I, uh.. Yeah, yeah, come in,” She stepped aside, granting him access. “I only have about twenty minutes though, I have to catch a meeting.”
“Yeah, okay,” He nodded, looking into her ever-moving eyes.
“So… did you come here for something or..?” She shifted her weight uncomfortably in the silence.
“Yeah, I just.. Y/N, I’m so sorry for leaving that day,” He began, making her eyebrows raise in surprise. “Look, I know you must think I’m a dick for the way I left. I feel like a dick for leaving you hanging without so much as an explanation. And I’ll gladly give you one if you want, but I just wanted to apologize. Oh, and these are for you.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” She laughed as he handed them to her, lifting them up to her nose and taking in their scent. “I love lavender. Thank you. Let me put them in water, I’ll be right back. Make yourself comfortable.”
He smiled and nodded before she walked away. He felt a shift in the way she looked and spoke to him. Not that he blamed her for it, he’d probably have his walls up too after his little disappearing stunt, but it was kind of heartbreaking to see the once warm and present gaze now a little colder and more distant. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, hoping he didn’t fuck things up past repair.
He took in the apartment, noticing the guitar that now sat outside of its case. She got a new set of candles and a different couch, but everything else remained the same. The warm scent of vanilla wafted through the air and the posters hung happily in their places. He took a seat on the couch as she came back into the room with two glasses of water.
“Thanks,” He smiled at her graciousness. She looked at him as if she was skeptical it was all a dream; he looked at her as if he never wanted to wake up.
“It’s comfy, isn’t it?” Y/N asked, taking a seat next to him and putting down her glass on the sturdy coffee table before shifting to look at him.
“Yeah. I like the green,” He asked, looking down at the velvet couch. “Does this one get stuck too?”
“No, that’s kind of the point of a new couch,” She teased. “That’s more of a DIY project called ‘my friends are drunk idiots’. I donated that old thing.”
“Ah,” He smiled before looking up at her. “Bummer.”
She raised her brows, giggling slightly at his flirtatious comment before looking over his shoulder at the clock. Her face fell slightly as her eyes settled on his once again.
“What?” He asked, following her gaze. “You have to leave?”
“I should leave soon, yeah. I have this important meeting with my boss. I should probably get my stuff together,” She pursed her lips, placing a sympathetic hand on his wrist and getting up.
“Oh, yeah,” He nodded, hiding his disappointment as he stood up. “No problem. I can just-”
“Peter, can I ask you a question?” She blurted out, turning towards him.
“Yeah, of course,” He nodded, sensing the shift of tone.
“What changed?” Her own disappointment was on display now.
“What changed? What do you mean?” He tilted his head slightly.
“Why are you here?” She furrowed her brows, watching as he took a deep breath. “I mean it’s been two weeks. Why today?”
“Honestly? I-.. I can’t stop thinking about you,” He admitted, chuckling nervously. “And I’ve tried to stop but.. Y/N, you’re the first thing on my mind when I wake up. I can’t get the thought of you out of my head throughout the day either; wondering what you’re doing or if you’re staying safe. I pick up The Times every morning to read your column. Hell, I can barely sleep knowing that your apartment is only a few stops away from mine. I guess I realized that maybe the reason I couldn’t stop thinking about you is because I don’t wanna stop. I just had to see you again.”
She smiled at his sweet confession and his nervous demeanor. He moved his hands frantically as he spoke, running them through his hair when he stumbled on words, his voice gently and nervously pleading for her forgiveness. “Yeah?”
“Mhm,” He responded softly, glancing down to her lips quickly before looking back into her eyes. He swore he could melt on the spot when she looked at him like that.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you either,” She took a step forward, making him let out a breathy chuckle of relief and excitement.
“Yeah?” He asked.
“Mhm,” She hummed slowly.
“And why’s that?” He took another step forward, closing the distance between them. His eyes locked onto her upturned lips.
“I think you know why,” She said softly, feeling him place his hand on her left hip.
“Maybe,” He whispered, now only mere centimeters from her face. She felt his hot breath rhythmically hit her top lip. “But I wanna hear you say it.”
“I like you, Peter,” She breathed, biting her lip. His name has never sounded so sweet. He smiled and pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear before caressing her cheek. When his eyes made their way back to hers, he couldn’t hold himself back any longer; he leaned down and kissed her.
She was intoxicating. Her lips were softer than he imagined, and they moved in perfect harmony with his own, fitting flawlessly like the last piece of a puzzle. He felt her smile into the kiss before pulling him in closer to deepen it.
Never in his life had he felt a kiss like this one. The passion was electric, sending shock waves down his spine. He never believed in soulmates, not even after hearing the other Peter Parkers talk about their MJs, not even after he met his own. But this. This kiss, this moment, this woman; it all began to disprove his personal belief system.
He never believed in fate or destiny, but he wanted nothing more than for this, her, to be written in his future. It was no coincidence that in every realm of the universe, they were meant to find each other. He finally understood the gravitational pull she had on his mind; no matter how badly he fought against it, it was written in the stars. It was now beyond him.
“Mm, I really.. need to go,” She giggled in between kisses, only to be pulled back in by the delightfully dazed man she was entangled to. “Peter.. I’m serious.”
“Okay, okay,” He smiled dreamily as he pulled away. “Wait, one more.”
He leaned down and gently kissed her before they laughed against each other’s lips.
“What time are you free tonight?” He murmured, placing his forehead against her own.
“Well, unless Spiderman decides to get into some mischief, 7:00,” She smiled.
“I’ll personally see to it that he doesn’t,” He half-joked, making her chuckle as she pulled away to grab her purse. “Can I take you out to dinner?”
“Depends,” She smirked, opening her door. He followed behind her and walked towards the elevator. “Where were you thinking?”
“Either my favorite place or yours,” He responded as she pressed the button to go down. She smiled as he pulled her in by the hips. “What’re you up for? Chinese or that diner you were telling me about?”
“Chinese actually sounds heavenly,” She threw her head back in desire, making him laugh.
“Chinese it is,” He nodded as the elevator door opened. She hesitantly pulled away before he gently grabbed her wrist and guided her back into him, kissing her softly one final time. “I’ll be here at 7:00.”
“It’s a date,” She smiled before they walked out of the building and went their separate ways, smiling like idiots with a seemingly everlasting blush that lingered on their cheeks for the rest of the afternoon.
SUMMARY: Takes place after Peter returned from the multiverse. Though he survived New City’s newest villain, he felt the weight of the life claimed. In the midst of a breakdown, he meets a young woman who offers her assistance.
TW: none really? cursing
WORD COUNT: 6500
The only sound down the dark alleyway was that of an offbeat pair of footsteps. They echoed as he limped home in the soft, cool Autumn wind. Having survived the battle meant nothing to him knowing that someone didn’t get so lucky. His thoughts circulated like a storm in his mind; quick, loud, unavoidable. So much so that the typical New York City ambience was drowned out by his anxiety ridden mind and the sound of his limp.
His ribs throbbed from the bleeding gash that now decorated them. A deep breath sat at the forefront of his mind, teasing him with the relief of the mindful action. It was, however, impossible with the injuries to his chest and the impending panic attack that loomed above him.
A child was the newest victim of New York’s newest enemy. The city named him The Collector, seeing as he always took something from his victims. He used a device on his wrist to freeze everyone around him. Everyone except for Peter. He watched as he grabbed a little boy. He watched the fear of his mother, terrorized by the sight, forced to watch because of the temporary paralysis. Peter fought. And he failed.
It had been years since anyone has terrorized the city in this way. It had been years since he needed to suit up for anything other than his nightly patrol. Even then, he only needed to fight off common criminals and saving the people of New York. Not long after Gwen died, the city’s overwhelming chaos and villains did too.
He missed those days.
He missed her.
Tap tap… Tap tap… Tap tap…
The soft sound of his limp was deafening. It sounded like a line from a dreary blank verse poem; one of war, loss, and heartbreak. It was evidence of the failed mission. He grunted, trying desperately to correct the limp to no avail.
The sounded echoed is his mind. It was a sick reminder of the night’s previous events; of the fact that his best effort no longer being as effective as it once was.
His thoughts now swelled like the dark clouds of a storm; the wind deafening. His surroundings disappeared into the anxiety induced tunnel vision. He finally let out a frustrated scream as he fell to his knees. He felt the weight of the child’s life, the weight of the mother’s scream fall onto him. He openly sobbed at the bitter memory.
In the midst of his cries, he failed to hear the woman above him open up her window and step onto the fire escape.
“Are you okay?” She spoke up hesitantly. He looked up to see her climbing down the fire escape. He wiped his tears as she landed on the floor and walked over to him. She looked at the broken man in front of her and looked down in concern; his eyes refused to meet her own. “Should I call an ambulance?”
“No,” He grumbled. “I can’t afford to go to the hospital. I’m fine. It looked worse than it is.”
A silence fell upon the two of them. He was grateful he changed into his regular clothes beforehand, not wanting to be seen in this state as Spiderman. The adrenaline that aided him in the process was now completely drained from his body.
She shifted and grabbed her backpack to pull something out. He kept his gaze on her hands, skeptical of the stranger before him.
She smiled, handing him a bottle of water. He furrowed his brows and looked up. That’s when he caught a glimpse of her beautiful features. Her warm gaze felt like the sun after a weeklong storm; relieving, happy, bright. His breath hitched out of sheer surprise; her beauty was unique and magnetic. He looked down at the bottle and gently grabbed it from her hand.
“I’d offer you an alcoholic drink but you don’t look like you’re in any condition to handle dehydration,” She continued to speak softly, as if trying not to spook him. He sensed a genuine kindness. “I worked as a CNA to get me through college. I’m pretty good with stitches if you want me to-”
“Didn’t your mom never teach you not to talk to strangers?” Peter mumbled as he opened the bottle to take a sip. He wanted nothing more than to be left alone, regardless of how melodic her voice was or how sweet her doe eyed gaze was.
“She didn’t get the chance to,” The stranger shrugged. This caught his attention; he slowly lowered the bottle from his lips as she continued to talk. “She died when I when I was young. My dad, on the other hand, taught me several lessons. Keeping my ass off of the New York City concrete was one of them. You would not believe the amount of times I’ve seen someone puke in that exact spot.”
His face twisted up in disgust as he looked down. Sure enough, the patch of pavement he sat on was stained a questionable color. She giggled and extended her arm towards him to help me up.
“Gross,” He muttered, as he took her hand. “Ignorance is bliss sometimes. Thank you for that.”
“It got you off the floor, didn’t it?” She smirked. He smiled halfheartedly and shrugged. “Um.. so I’m sure your mom taught you not to go home with a stranger, but can I take you up to my apartment and patch you up?”
He hesitated, looking into her eyes. It was too dark to see exactly what color they were but light enough to see the concern on her face. He sighed before nodding. She perked up slightly before reaching for his arm. She began slowly lifting it to wrap around her shoulder, wanting to ease his limp as his crutch.
“Wait, wait,” He said quickly. She froze, looking at him with wide eyes. “Other side, I don’t think I can lift this arm.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” She winced, moving to his other side. She repeated the motion, and let him share his weight in order to walk him into the building and the old elevator. They walked in silence until they reached the fourth floor. The elevator dinged and she guided him to the third apartment on the left. He watched as she fumbled with your keys a bit before finally opening the door. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
He looked around at his surroundings. The apartment was small but it was charming nonetheless. She had candles burning on the coffee table and vintage art covering the walls. He heard a soft tune playing from the record player in the corner of the room and recognized it; it was as if the lyrics were on the top of his tongue. The quaint ambience of the living room was relaxing. He was surprised he hasn’t felt a sense of danger. If anything, his senses were telling him the opposite; this felt like a safe haven.
He watched as she paced around her apartment, gathering different little medical tools into a bag until she finally plopped down on the sturdy coffee table in front of him.
“I’m gonna cut your shirt off,” She said nonchalantly. His brows furrowed uncomfortably. “You bled through it so I’m assuming I should start there. Or you can lift your arms up to take it off yourself. But I assume that’s not an option so..”
She picked up the scissors and snipped at the air with a facetious smile. He fought back one of his own. Her sweet demeanor was a nice change of pace; it was rare in this city. He hated to admit it to himself, especially after the awful events that happened not even an hour before, but he was utterly intrigued by this woman. She was unlike anyone he’s ever met before.
He pressed his tongue against his cheek, accepting the challenge. She raised her brows and sat back, knowing that it would be nearly impossible to do with the amount of blood on his shirt. He went to lift his arms and hissed in pain, clenching his eyes. When he opened them, he caught her already looking him in the eye with an amused smile.
“You must really like that shirt,” She teased, making him smile slightly. Something about the way she said that reminded him of Gwen. “Do I have your permission to cut it off now?“
He nodded and she got to work. He watched as she cut away carefully. Once she successfully peeled his shirt off, he noticed a small blush arise on her cheeks at the sight of him. He couldn’t help but smile, raising his eyebrows when she looked up at him. She cleared her throat with a small smile of her own before turning away to grab the small medical bag beside her.
Peter found it hard to look away. She wasn’t trying to flirt, but the subconscious coy smile that decorated her features made her irresistible. She played her embarrassment off well, making him even doubt the hint of attraction she just displayed.
“This is going to hurt a little bit,” Her eyes finally met his again. He nodded.
“I think I can candle a little bit of- FUCKEN HELL OW?!” He hissed as the alcohol hit his gash. She scrunched her nose and muttered an apology. “A little bit?!”
“Ahh, I know, I know. I’m sorry! Almost done,” She squinted her eyes with sympathy before finishing off disinfecting the wound to the best of her ability. He sighed in relief when he saw her lean back, watching as she dug through the small bag again.
The woman gathered the materials needed to stitch up the wound, feeling his gaze burn into her as she picked out the respective instruments. She looked up to see that his warm, brown eyes danced all over her face. It was as if he would be forced to draw her features from memory. She couldn’t recall the last time someone had looked at her like that.
“Stop that,” She ordered, looking at him through her eyelashes for a split second before she adjusted herself near the wound. She steadied to hands to begin the procedure.
“Stop what?” He chuckled. His laugh was soft and boyish, making her chuckle and look up at him.
“The staring,” She said as sternly as she could, not quite being able to shake the same coy smile from earlier.
“Ah. I’m sorry,” Peter grinned, looking up. She chuckled at his exaggerated movement before positioning herself once again. She took a breath, glancing up only to catch his eyes on her. He attempted to play it off by looking away.
“I’m serious! I can’t focus with you looking at me like that,” She shook her head, not bothering to move from the perfect position she attained.
“Yeah, no, that was my bad. Sorry,” He drew in his bottom lip in an attempt to stop smiling. His eyes began roaming the room once again, taking in details he hadn’t spotted on first glance. The wall opposite of him was decorated neatly with several small posters; her favorite bands and artists. His lips parted at the sight, taken aback at the similarity in his own music taste. He began listening to the music playing from your record player, it was something he’d never heard before but right up his ally. “I like this song. Who’s playing?”
“Oh, uh, my old band. I played guitar for them throughout high school and part of college. What you’re hearing is our third album I think,” She recalled nonchalantly. He looked at her with wide eyes. “Wait, stop moving. I’m almost done.”
“You expect me not to move after you told me that you’re in a band? That’s so cool!” Peter beamed, making her giggle. “What did you play?”
“Guitar,” She mumbled as she focused on the project at hand. She paused every once and a while to look up and him and further explain. He found himself longing for those beautiful eyes to meet his when she looked back at his ribs; missing them the way one would miss water in a state of dehydration. “We never went anywhere with it though. It kinda just for shits and giggles. We’d play at nightclubs and small venues. But we all hated the idea of becoming famous so we kept it pretty lowkey. I’d hate to be in the public eye. Seems like a lot of pressure.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” He mumbled, making a face. He knew all too well how much pressure it could be. “Did you ever sing?”
“Sometimes,” She mindlessly shared as she finished up the stitches. “Every blue moon, our lead singer would get sick so I’d step in. But I’ve always hated singing in front of people. I honestly don’t know how he did it. He was damn good at it too. He had this personality that completely captivated the audience and this voice that gave us the most unique edge.”
“I can hear that,” He nodded, listening to the soft rock play in the background. A comfortable silence fell upon the two as they listened to the song.
“All done,” She perked up, tossing the tools into a plastic bag. “Are your legs alright? No cuts?”
“You want me to take off my pants too?” Peter raised his brow, making her fumble with the bag in her hand.
“What? No! I mean, not like that. I wouldn’t ask you to-.. You want to borrow a shirt? Let me get you a shirt,” She stuttered, getting up and rushing off as quickly as she spoke. He refrained from laughing as he watched her disappear into what he assumed was her room. “Is a t-shirt alright?!” She called after a moment.
“Yeah, that’s fine!” He spoke up, admiring the room once more. There was a beautiful tapestry to his left and a small TV in front of it. He saw two guitar cases on the floor and smiled at the thought of her playing the instruments inside of them. In front of him, the coffee table was scattered with guitar picks, strings, and music that she’d been writing.
He felt his body healing already; one of the perks of a radioactive spider bite. He leaned forward, wincing a bit as he reached for a piece of music. He couldn’t understand the notes but he found himself in awe of the lyrics. It was about war, loss, and heartbreak. He blinked away the shock, sensing her standing at the doorway.
“I’m not nearly as musical as I seem,” Her soft voice commented, walking towards him to hand him a black t-shirt. He smiled and gently took the shirt from her hands, grazing them ever so slightly as he did. She paused for a second, trying to conceal the fact that her head was spinning at the touch. “I, uh, had one of my old bandmates come over this morning. We were just messing around with this stuff. Before today, I actually hadn’t played in like.. Pft, eight months now?”
“And here I was thinking you were cool,” He teased, making her let out a breathy chuckle. He carefully put on the oversized t-shirt, only now seeing a familiar yellow smiley face. “Okay, I revoke that comment. You like Nirvana?”
“My dad was a big fan of theirs. He actually went to so many of their shows that Kurt knew him by name,” She chuckled. “So when my mom got pregnant, my dad asked the band what my middle name should be. The story goes that they all sat in silence for a minute, watching my dad take a drag off a joint they were all sharing in an alleyway. Then Kurt smiled and said Mary Jane. So my name’s Y/N Mary Jane Y/L/N.”
“M-Mary Jane?” Peter’s breath got caught in his throat. You furrowed your brows.
“Yeah?” You chuckled, taking a seat in front of him again. “My stage name was MJ because I thought it was much cooler than Y/N.“
“Huh,” He mumbled. His mind began racing with thoughts; the experience he had in the multiverse and the other Peters’ lovers. If she was MJ- his MJ, it’d explain the spark; the magnetic and unavoidable chemistry between the two. That would explain why her personality felt like it was made for his and why her presence felt so safe. They were meant for one another; in this life and millions before, during, and after.
“You’ve got a cut on your brow,” Y/N squinted, leaning in to look at the cut. His breath hitched in his throat once more; the faint scent of her shampoo wafted past him. “Want me to start there or on your leg? Because I think your knee is bleeding.“
“I-..” He muttered. How was he supposed to act knowing he was meant to be hers? How was he meant to act casually knowing that a future was already decided on by the fates? His mind raced at the speed of light; far too fast for him to utter a sentence, let alone keep up a conversation. It wasn’t until he saw Y/N’s head tilt slightly that he realized he was gawking. “Legs.”
“Yeah, I can do..” She trailed off. “Are you okay? Do you have a concussion?”
Before he got the chance to respond, she was flashing a small light at his eyes to check.
“I’m fine,” He chuckled.
“What’s your name?” She questioned skeptically as she put the light down.
“Peter,” He smiled. “Peter Parker.”
“What year were you born?”
“1995.”
“Where are you from, Peter Parker?”
“Queens. Want my social security while we’re at it?” He responded, making her roll her eyes.
His name never sounded so sweet before. He liked the way her lips moved as she said his name, it was as if she couldn’t say it without a smile. He especially liked the way her voice slightly jumped up in pitch when she said the first syllable of each word; Peter Parker.
“Okay, smart ass,” She shook her head, putting away the small collection of medical equipment. “You want my help or not?”
“Yes!” He said a little too quickly. Though she only glanced up for a split second, he still spotted the smug look that now painted her face. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m in rapid fire interrogation mode.”
“Right,” She dragged out the word, making him blush slightly as he let out another small chuckle. “Okay, wanna take off your pants so I can have a look at that knee?”
Peter licked his lips, holding back another audacious remark. He began to unbutton his jeans, pausing when he realized Y/N didn’t bother to go to the next room. He simply raised his brows. She looked up from cleaning up the area surrounding her.
“What? Want me to cover my eyes?” She smiled, placing her delicate hands on her face to hide behind them. He chuckled before taking off his shoes and pants, throwing them onto his bag when he was done. He looked down at his underwear and silently thanked his past self for deciding to wear a pair of boxer briefs under his suit today.
“Damn, Parker. Are you taking off your pants or sewing new ones?“ Y/N groaned, slouching for that she could rest her elbows on her thighs.
“I’m done, I’m done,” He chuckled as he sat back down in front of her. She peaked behind her fingers before looking down at his knee. A deep scrape adorned Peter’s leg, a bruise already teasing at the surface around it.
“Shit,” She whispered before looking up at him. “You really got the shit beaten out of you, huh?”
“You have no idea,” He chuckled dryly, looking down. She got the memo and changed the subject.
“This isn’t as bad as your ribs. I think we might be able to get away with cleaning it and wrapping it in gauze,” She said before moving on. Just as the sensation of the alcohol burned into the wound, she found herself empathetically scrunching her nose at the sound of Peter’s groan. “I know, I know. That’s the worst of it, I promise. It’s been a while since I’ve had to do this for someone outside of the hospital setting. I used to have to patch my brother up all of the time as kids. I know a thing or two about patching up the underdog.”
“What makes you think I’m the underdog?” Peter smiled. She giggled softly as she reached back for something. He paid no mind to the object in her small hands; he was utterly captivated by the way she spoke and carried on conversation. Something about it all felt so familiar to him.
“I don’t know,” She shrugged, placing the gauze onto the wound carefully. He noticed the fact that she no longer minded his gaze. In fact, she looked up with every other word to catch glimpse of it. “You don’t give me bad guy vibes.”
“Oh yeah?” He chuckled. “What if I told you was the baddest of all guys?”
“I’d call bullshit,” She deadpanned and motioned over to his backpack with her head. “Bad guys don’t decorate their backpacks with enamel pins.”
“Oh,” He felt his cheeks warm at sight of the SK8R CAT pin he’d recently added to the small collection of dorky pins that adorned the old bag. She let out a breathy chuckle at his reaction. Dear god, that laugh was intoxicating.
“So why’d you stop playing guitar?” He asked lightheartedly, expecting the woman in front of him to light up at the chance to talk about her obvious passion. Much to his surprise, her face fell and hands paused. It took her aback. “Oh shit. I don’t mean to pry-“
“No, no, it’s fine,” She responded quickly before flashing him a small smile. “I just wasn’t expecting the question is all.. Uh, my brother was our lead singer and he died last year. He got into this huge car crash on the way back from my college graduation. After that, the band unanimously decided to put those days behind us. It just wasn’t the same without his vocals, you know? We played one last time at our drummer and bassist’s wedding.”
“I’m so sorry,” He muttered after a moment of silence. He watched Y/N shrug, keeping her eyes down as she finished up the wrapping. “I mean I don’t think I can really relate to the pain of losing a sibling but losing people you love is just..”
“Fucking awful, huh?” She finished, smiling softly as she finally looked back into his eyes. He raised his brows and nodded. “It’s like your whole world crashes and burns yet everyone still goes on. You hate how the real world just continues and refuses to stop to grieve with you. Then you grow to appreciate it being one constant in your life; the city. The sirens and yelling have become this sort of.. comforting white noise that I can’t sleep without? I don’t know.”
“Yeah, no, I actually get that,” He sighed, readjusting slowly into the couch. “I lost both of my parents as a kid and went to live with my aunt and uncle. I got into an argument with them as a teenager and Uncle Ben went looking for me. He got killed that night. Right in front of me actually. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten over it had it not been for my girlfriend.”
“Jesus Christ..” She breathed, feeling her heart sink at the confession. “Peter, I am so sorry. I can’t even imagine.”
“Oh, it was almost ten years ago now. Gwen really helped me process the pain,” He shrugged. “It really helps to have a support system.”
“Is Gwen available for weekly coffee talks?” She smiled. “She sounds incredible.”
“She really was,” He responded softly. Her lips parted, feeling a sinking feeling in her stomach once again. She placed a reassuring hand on his own and squeezed. It took him aback, her touch.
“I’m sorry,” She whispered. She didn’t let her hand linger for too long to his dismay. Though her hands were cold, her touch warmed him to the bone. It was soothing. The fact that she reached for his hand wasn’t what surprised him; it was the comfort that came with it. “Tell you what, let me clean your face up a bit and then I’ll make us some tea. Nothing like trauma dumping over a cup of chamomile tea.”
“Deal,” He nodded, still thinking about the electric touch.
He normally felt a pang of guilt at the thought of moving on from Gwen, shutting down any feeling towards another person. In his past relationships, it was a mental block that ultimately resulted in a breakup. Maybe it was the fact that she would’ve liked Y/N or that it was simply meant to be; but he didn’t feel anything other than a sense of comfort at the thought of being with the woman in front of him.
He couldn’t believe how organic her touch felt or how naturally their personalities blended with one another. Peter could practically felt the universe pushing them together. He was utterly captivated by this woman; the way she spoke, the way she moved. All he wanted was to get to know her in her entirety. He knew this longing all too well. He felt it with Gwen, but it was different with her.
“Ow!” He hissed as she pressed a small alcohol wipe into his brow. “What happened to a warning?”
“I didn’t think you needed one if you literally saw me coming at you with this wipe,” Y/N giggled.
It was only then he realized how close she was. He could feel her warm breath on his nose as she hovered above him. It was electric, the chemistry. Judging by the way her eyes kept wandering to his own, she felt it too.
“All done,” She smiled, pulling away to collect her small mess. He watched intently as she quickly cleaned up before finally getting up to go to the kitchen. “Chamomile alright?”
“Yeah, um, yeah that sounds great actually,” He smiled. “Do you need help with anything?”
“No, I just need you to sit still and heal,” She responded. He lost sight of her as she disappeared behind a wall. “Do you wanna stay the night? This couch pulls out and it’s pretty comfortable. I’d hate to see you walk home in your condition.”
“Oh, I don’t want to overstay my welcome,” He shook his head before grunting as he got up, disobeying her orders; Peter found himself drawn to her. Greater forces were working and it felt as if he had no control over his body. It longed to be in her presence.
“I thought I told you to sit,” Y/N chuckled as she looked over her shoulder to see his silhouette in the doorway. She paused what she was doing to continue the conversation. “And you wouldn’t be. Your welcome expires at 8:00 AM. I have a meeting.”
“A meeting,” He repeated, leaning against the cursed wall that separated them only moment before. “Sounds very professional.”
“It is!” She grinned proudly, turning back around to continue making the promises tea. “I’m a journalist. My boss put me on this Spiderman project a while back.”
“Oh?” Peter asked cautiously. He’d been so caught up in her world that he’d forgotten his reality.
“I’m actually really excited,” She admitted, turning to look at him every so often. “The Daily Bugle has been spreading hate on Spiderman and convincing people that he’s some menace to society. I mean it would take an actual idiot not to see that he’s a hero. Anyways, I have a New York Times column called The Daily Herald dedicated to debunk everything Jameson says.“
“You’re kidding,” Peter deadpanned. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly was not that. It must’ve been a universal MJ trait, rooting for Spiderman.
“Ew, don’t tell me you actually side with that asshole!” She scrunched her nose, making him laugh at the irony.
“No! No! Not at all, I’m just shocked. That’s a pretty cool job is all,” He responded. “What’s the meeting about tomorrow?”
“He saved a little boy today. Everyone thought he was dead but the kiddo pulled through. He’s expected to make a full recovery. I’m interviewing his mother,” Y/N said casually as she grabbed the tea from her cabinet.
“He survived?!” Peter pushed off of the wall with wide eyes.
“Yeah,” She said, turning around to look at him. His tone demanded her attention. “I was shocked too. He-”
“Wait, I’m sorry. The little boy that was held in the air and thrown to the side by The Collector? That kid is the one who survived?!” He questioned, taking a step forward in excitement.
“That’s the one,” She said slowly, narrowing her eyes at his urgent curiosity. She caught a glimpse of his grin before he turned around to go lean on the wall again. A smile of relief. A smile of someone who knew the child.. or of someone who tried to save him. “Huh..”
“What?” He asked, seeing her face change into one of deep thought.
“Oh, nothing,” She pushed the thought away. It was crazy. This dorky, sweet man couldn’t be.. “Just.. It’s nothing. Can you please just go sit down? I don’t know if those stitches can withstand all of this excitement.”
He nodded slowly, wondering what just went through her mind. He hesitated before walking back to the couch. It was only a few moments later that MJ walked in with two cups of tea. He smiled at the one in her left hand.
“Careful, it’s hot,” She mumbled, setting his cup on the table. His eyebrows shot up at the Spiderman mug that was placed in front of him.
“You even have Spiderman merch?” He giggled, picking up the mug to further examine it.
“Okay, before I look like some obsessed fan, let me explain,” She laughed, blushing at his playfulness. “My best friend bought me that when I scored the job. Stop laughing! I mean it’s a small chunky cartoon version of Spiderman! Isn’t it cute?”
“Very cute,” He chuckled, not taking his eyes off of her as she relentlessly defended the cup in his hand. She smiled as she sat down with a mug that read WE ARE HAPPY TO SERVE YOU. “Is there a story behind that mug too?”
“I went to this diner with my brother a couple years ago and said they had cute cups so the idiot decided to steal one,” She smiled, looking at the cup. “Best diner in the city! I’ll have to take you there sometime.”
Peter looked down and chuckled softly. She said it so casually, as if they hadn’t just met an hour prior. The sense of familiarity was mutual. She smiled as she set her brother’s mug down before turning her body to face Peter.
“Thanks for letting me stay the night,” He mirrored her motions. “It’s not every day that I’m exposed to a kindness. It seems like a rarity in this city.”
“Yeah, the people here kinda suck,” She said nonchalantly. Another laugh escaped from his lips. “But it can be nice though. There’s this sense of anonymity, you know? You’re just a number and you can be whoever you want to be.”
“Yeah, definitely. Lonely but nice at times,” He nodded.
“God, it can be so fucking lonely,” She breathed out.
The two got lost in an organic conversation, talking as though they were lifelong friends. She spoke fondly of her childhood, giggling at the memories of her rambunctious brother. He spoke of his adolescence, recalling simpler times with his uncle and Gwen. They kept the chat platonic; besides the teasing and longing looks.
He liked making her blush. It arose to her cheeks the same way the morning sun set; slowly, subtly at first and then all at once. She covered her face with her hands and giggled when she felt it coming on, which baffled Peter. He couldn’t fathom why she would hide such a beautiful face.
The tea was long gone by the time she finally glanced over her shoulder to look at the time. “Oh my god. It’s a lot later that I thought it was. I should probably set up this couch for you.“
“Here, let me help,” Peter offered, getting up to follow through with the promise.
“No, no, no,” She frowned, grabbing his shoulders to gently move him out of the way. It was the first time he stood up straight; he was taller than she imagined. “You just stand here. I don’t want you to tear your stitches that I worked oh-so hard on.”
“Yes ma’am,” He tried to match her stern tone. She playfully rolled her eyes before methodically placing the couch cushions in the corner of the room. He watched her intently with soft eyes. She entranced him with the way she moved. Everything from how her hips swayed to how she gripped the cushions; he observed with eager attention, similar to the way one does when they watch their favorite movie for the first time. He almost didn’t realize that she was struggling to open the futon. “Y/N. You sure you don’t need help?”
She looked up and huffed in defeat, her hair strung amuck.
“So, here’s the thing,” Y/N sighed, standing back up. “I kind of forgot that my friends broke this thing last weekend. I’ve been meaning to get it fixed, but it won’t open. Just take my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“I’m not taking your bed,” He grinned at the absurdity. “I’ll take the couch if you fold it back up.”
“Right. Um,” She hesitated, looking back down at the couch. “I’ll just..”
“You can’t get it to fold up again, can you?”
“Peter, please. Do I look like a complete imbecile? I’ve got this all under control,” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Take the bed. I’ll get this sorted out.”
“I’ll take the bed if you sort it all out in front of me,” He smirked. She pursed her lips.
“Okay! So I can’t get it to fold up again,” She groaned. “I forgot it took three of us to push it back into place last time. I’ll take the floor.”
“No way!” He laughed again.
“Okay.. Then we can sleep together,” She sighed, only realizing how that sounded at the sound of his chuckle. “You know what I mean! Like share the same bed.”
“I’m okay with that,” He responded, feeling his heart speed up at the simple thought of falling asleep next to you.
“Okay,” She nodded, hesitating to walk him to her room. “You’re not like.. secretly a pervert, are you?”
“What?!” Peter laughed. “No, of course not!”
“Okay, I didn’t think so but I just had to ask,” She giggled, walking towards her room. He followed close behind, stopping in his tracks when she paused in the doorway. “Wanna borrow some pajama pants? Or do you prefer to sleep in those tighty whiteys?”
Peter looked down at his white boxer briefs, his jaw dropping offensively. She laughed as she turned back around again and walked towards a small dresser.
“These are not tighty whiteys!” He argued as he followed her into the room. It was incredibly small, but charming nevertheless. She had a bookshelf filled with old books and decorated the walls with vintage paintings. A soft white light lit up the room, giving the room a golden glow. He was surprised at how at home he felt in her apartment. Or maybe it was just the fact that she was there.
“That’s exactly what someone in tighty whiteys would say,” She teased, digging through your closet before tossing him a pair of Star Wars pant bottoms.
“I don’t know what’s worse; tighty whiteys or Star Wars pajamas,” He bit back playfully, slipping into the soft pants. They were obviously meant for men, far too big for her to wear. He hadn’t even thought of the idea that she might be taken; maybe these belonged to a boyfriend. He refrained from asking the question, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.
“So admit it? They’re tighty whiteys?” She laughed, grabbing an old t-shirt and shorts. “And don’t blame me for the nerdy PJs. My brother left them here for whenever he needed to stay the night. He was such a geek. I mean the man was super into math and science and Star Wars.”
“What’s wrong with math and science and Star Wars?” Peter raised a brow as she walked towards the door. She smiled.
“Math is hard. Science is complicated. And Star Wars is beyond bo-“
“Please don’t finish that sentence with boring. You’re actually breaking my heart right now,” He frowned, making her throw her head back in laughter.
“Be right back,” She replied, disappearing behind the door. Peter decided to lie down under the sheets. Once he got comfortable, he looked around at the paintings, admiring the beauty in them. She didn’t strike him as a romantic but the art said otherwise. Quite a few of them were of couples doing mundane things such as walking in the park holding hands or dancing in the kitchen.
“What are you smiling about?” She asked, coming back in wearing the clothes that previously dangled from her arm. He looked over at her for a moment before motioning to the pictures with his head. “Oh, they’re really cool right? I like to go thrifting for vintage pieces. My latest purchase was that old film camera on my bookshelves. I’ve been meaning to fix up for a while now.”
“I might be able to fix it up for you,” He offered as she walked to the other side of the bed. “I love messing with old cameras actually.”
“I might actually have to take you up on that,” She yawned, getting under the covers. Peter bit his lip, resisting the urge to smile. This moment somehow felt like it could be in one of her paintings; a seemingly mundane moment shared by two strangers. One of which was allowing himself to fall for the woman next to him. “Anyways, I’m gonna turn off the light. Feel free to stay as long as you want tomorrow. If you’re not busy, maybe we can grab lunch after my meeting?”
She sounded nervous, as if she had been pondering asking him that for a while. Planning out how to word it and when to say it. He looked over and smiled.
“Only if it’s at that diner you were talking about earlier,” He agreed, speaking in a soft voice. She grinned.
✍ Summary: Your Peter’s best friend. So, when he almost loses you - it’s dejavu. | 2.7k
Warning: NO WAY HOME SPOILERS
Finding yourself in a whole new version of New York with your best friend, Peter Parker, was confusing enough.
But whoever thought that it was a good idea to add some magical portal with two teenagers who seemed to be calling out to your best friend - obviously was crazy.
“Should we go to them?” Peter asked, nodding towards the portal with the two teenagers.
You looked at him, “Peter, as your best friend, you know that I often commend you for your brilliance, but this is seriously one of the dumbest ideas you’ve had.”
