Chapter Text
So, no, he didn’t always have the most well thought out plans. History had proven this to him, and millions of other people, time and time again - rough subject, we don’t need to go there - and yet he still hadn’t figured out how to be better about this. But he was really trying to be better about this. Yet when he saw you in the volunteer line at F.E.A.S.T. when he went to visit his Aunt May, he still figured out how to get himself into a situation with no light at the end of the tunnel.
He sat down and ran his fingers through his hair, conscious of the brunette mess that lay on top of his head. Wearing a mask all day really didn’t do his hair any favors, but neither would the wind-swept look from swinging through New York without one. He didn’t shave this morning. He was wearing a baggy jacket to cover the suit he always wore beneath, carrying his old tattered backpack and a pair of sweatpants. He probably should’ve gone for the jeans today. No, he definitely shouldn’t have worn the jeans today…he hadn’t done laundry in three weeks. The sweatpants were definitely the right decision.
But ultimately, he guessed he really couldn’t blame you for approaching him with a fresh, hot cup of coffee and a blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders and smiling, inviting him to stay as long as he needed. Peter Parker had experienced some seriously low lows - again, nothing we need to get into - but the beautiful woman standing in front of him, being the nicest a woman around his age had been to him in years, thinking he was homeless? Yeah, that was definitely making its way onto Peter’s list of lows - right up next to “still hasn’t fought an alien,” not that he thought he’d have any idea how to fight an alien. He’d only met two other Peter Parkers, but he was easily the least cool of the three, and if that trend continued he would, statistically, be one of the lamest in the multiverse.
He knew youth pastor Peter would hate this “negative self talk” if he could hear him now - but he needed the negative self talk. It helped to remind him that he wasn’t worth dying for.
He couldn’t find the words to speak to you, not when you were looking at him with those soft eyes, and so you left him with one last smile, walking back to fill more cups full of weak coffee. His eyes followed you to where you stood and he was more than happy to silently watch you for a while - only, you definitely now thought he was homeless, and you also probably thought he was deranged because he couldn’t even figure out how to say “thank you” to the pretty lady who’d handed him coffee. Great, Peter. You’re doing really great today.
May Parker (12:03 p.m):
Peter, I have meetings all day today! Let’s try lunch again tomorrow :)
Peter sighed as he stole a quick glance at his phone under the table. Great. Now he was here, you thought he was homeless, and he wasn’t going to get lunch out of all of this. It was shaping up to be a great Monday, and Peter was desperately wishing he could crawl back into his massively uncomfortable bed and go to sleep. Peter apologized to himself, noting that he was being pretty hard on himself today, and took a quick moment to tell himself that he was amazing…and all of the other shit the other Peter had told him to say. It didn’t work, but hey, the guy was kind of family, and he promised to be nicer to himself…and this was being nicer to himself, comparatively.
“Happy Wednesday,” your sweet voice greeted again, sliding a bowl of soup and what looked like a grilled cheese in front of Peter.
He knew he should speak up right then and tell you that he wasn’t homeless, that his name was Peter Parker and he was here to meet his aunt for lunch. Instead, all that came from his mouth was an almost unintelligible, “It’s…Monday.”
And you smiled at that, and Peter caught how your nose scrunched when you laughed, and suddenly he was perfectly fine with exactly how his day was going. He felt a familiar heat that had become a stranger to him rise in his cheeks and he ran his fingers through his hair again. You shook your head and responded to him, “It’s Wednesday. Are you a lost time traveler?”
There was that smile again, and Peter couldn’t help but release a deep breath. Great, you were funny, too, on top of being prettier than the view from the Empire, and he had no idea what to do with himself. Not that he ever really had any idea what to do with himself. “No, I’m…Peter,” was all he could stutter out, and he immediately kicked himself for telling you his real name. For someone who spent most of his time protecting a secret identity, you’d think he would be better about reflexively lying about his name. Apparently that wasn’t the case when your big, round eyes met his. Apparently you made him use even fewer brain cells than normal, which he definitely didn’t need help doing.
“Not a time traveler, just Peter who has his days confused. Welcome to Wednesday, Peter,” your voice was playful as you poured him more coffee, leaning across the table to do so. Peter picked out the smell of your perfume through everything else and he couldn’t help but breathe in deeply, hoping you didn’t catch the behavior from him. If you did, you chose to keep it to yourself. He couldn’t even fathom a worthy reply before you straightened back up, offering another warm smile as you looked into his big, brown eyes. “Let someone know if you need anything, time traveler.”
And thus began months of foolish behavior from Peter Benjamin Parker.
The remainder of Spring passed by in New York, and Peter would find his way into the building once a week (when he was certain Aunt May wouldn’t be there) to check for you. As the weeks turned to months and the air grew hotter Peter found his visits increasing, even taking risks that his aunt would see him in here one of these days. Peter had, at least, taken up the habit of dropping some cash in the donation box in secret to cover the food he’d been eating – and then some (but not much, because at the end of the day he was still broke).
Peter didn’t really care about the multiple risks he found himself taking to face you – he was enamored by you, you occupied his every thought, and the few hours he allowed himself to be in your presence per week had become the highlight of his weeks. Lately, he’d been spending a lot of time thinking of and acting out scenarios where he told you he found a job and apartment and was no longer homeless, or just told you the truth like you really deserved. The reality of his white lie faced him often and he found himself unable to go through with any of his plans, choosing instead to ignore the inevitable in favor of soaking in the time he did have with you – certain that one day the time would run out.
You, on the other hand, found yourself unable to ignore the warmth that regularly overcame you in his presence. Peter was often a mess, even now appearing in a heavy jacket and pair of jeans in the blistering July heat when he visited you. Peter was always easy to talk to, the conversation reaching a steady flow between the two of you within weeks that you were able to fall into with ease each time you were together again. Often it seemed as though he wouldn’t tell you enough about himself, but this wasn’t uncommon in F.E.A.S.T. and you dismissed it as protective behavior over his identity.
Still, it didn’t stop the two of you from getting to know one another on some level. Peter quickly learned things about you that you were willing to share – you were a couple of years younger than him, you were currently working on a law degree, you lived alone in an inherited-from-your-grandfather house in Queens, you were bad at video games, and your favorite candy was melted peanut butter m&ms. When Peter talked about himself, it only intrigued you more – it was clear he hadn’t had the happiest of lives but didn’t allow himself to dive into what caused it to be so.
You noticed, of course, when his visits increased in frequency – though you found yourself unable to complain, and equally unable to ask him why he was visiting more, unwilling to confirm that he wasn’t coming for you . As much as Peter had enjoyed his time spent with you, you were enjoying the time with him, and finding yourself waiting with desperate anticipation to see him again between visits.
Peter had missed his normal Monday visit this week, but you had passed off the fact with a shrug and a mental note to worry if he didn’t appear at all that week. By Friday when he hadn’t made an appearance you were truly worried, an uneasy feeling that was reflected by the way you were clearly thinking about anything else during the normal Friday afternoon team meeting. Little did you know that this lack of focus would cause your entire day – part of your current understanding of reality – to derail. It was a short conversation with your boss, but one that rang in your ears loudly – one that you’d likely never forget. She’s asked you if something was bothering you, and everything from there fell into place almost as fate willed it to be so.
“I’ve just…been worried about this…man that comes here. I usually see him on Mondays at lunch and he didn’t show, and then…I haven’t seen him in a week now. I just…” you trailed off, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “I’m worried, is all. It’s not like him to not show up.”
May Parker’s eyebrows pulled together to mirror your worry but she couldn’t hide the faint smile that pulled at her lips, her heart pulling at the sight of someone who truly cared for others in a way that made the world better. If it was within her power, she would help you find this man that had you so worried. “Have you gotten a name from this, I’m assuming cute, mystery man? Can you describe him?”
You knew your cheeks must be pink as you nodded, your bottom lip briefly pulling between your teeth before you tried to respond in a calmer, more even tone – it was silly of you to act like this over a man you really didn’t know. “Yes, of course, it’s been months. His name is Peter. He’s…taller than me and…lean, but muscular, and usually in a big jacket...no matter how hot it is. He’s brunette, and his hair is always a mess, and has big, brown eyes…and a canvas backpack, usually.”
The response was a genuine laughter coming from May Parker as she placed her hand over her heart. With a smile that knew too much she began scribbling a note down on her notepad, her eyes briefly glancing up to connect with yours. Her voice was still soothing as ever, but held a mischievous tone as she taunted you lightly. “Well, he is cute, but he isn’t homeless,” she began, tearing the paper off of the pad and handing it to you. “Your Peter sounds an awful lot like my nephew. Why don’t you run by his apartment there and check on him?”
The information washed over you like a tidal wave of pure embarrassment, realizing you had practically swooned over Peter in front of his aunt. You felt the burn at your cheeks and knew your eyes must be wide, and despite the clearly mortified look on your face, you tucked the written address into your pocket. “He’s not…he’s not homeless?”
The puzzled look on your face drew a small laugh from the older woman again, and she simply shook her head in response. Her tone teased a person who wasn’t present to defend himself. “He’s not homeless. Considering the food downstairs isn’t that great, I have a feeling he has another reason to, apparently, make regular visits here.”
It felt as if someone had drenched you in lava, the heat of embarrassment spreading across your features as you fought to find the appropriate words to say to your boss about her nephew. You found it within yourself to ask to be excused for the afternoon, which she obliged with a giggle and sent you on your way, calling after you to tell Peter hello from her when you saw him. To get to Peter’s apartment you had to sit through a couple of subway rides and a short walk, but the time was welcome for processing. Peter had spent months – four, to be exact – lying to you by pretending to be homeless. What kind of person did that?
The kind of person who didn’t know how to approach you in a healthy way.
That voice within had been around all afternoon now to remind you of the problematic behavior, and this time it elicited a soft sigh from your lips in concession. Winning was not enough for the internal battle raging within you, however – it needed to be much more difficult than it already was.
But still, he did it just to see me. May is right…the peanut butter sandwiches are not winning any culinary prizes.
You placed headphones over your ears to silence yourself for the rest of the walk to Peter’s building, hoping that you would be able to get inside and that there weren’t a million stairs to walk up. Luckily, fate worked in your favor to have you arriving at the same time another resident was entering the building, allowing you to slip in through the door with ease. Taking another look at the written address before tucking it back into your pocket you wandered decrepit halls and questionable stairs until you found yourself in front of unit 3101. Burying the budding mental battle in your mind, you took a deep breath before lightly knocking at the door.
“I put rent in your mailbox last ni-” his voice started from behind the door before it was open, the shock clearly written across his face at the sight of you on the other side of his door. The side of his face was discolored from healing bruises, and if your mind was any less calm than it currently was you’d have commented on that first – but your deafening mind demanded answers for the months of lies from this man.
“You are not homeless, Peter Parker,” you stated plainly. He couldn’t place the tone in your voice precisely, but he could tell enough to know it wasn’t complete anger. After months, he knew you better than that.”
“I mean…no, no. I’m not homeless, but…”
“If you wanted to spend time with me so badly, I could think of three better ways you could accomplish that,” your arms were still crossed and one of your eyebrows ticked up in genuine annoyance. You leaned against the door frame and attempted to glance around him into the apartment within, but Peter – feeling shy – blocked more of your view and cleared his throat.
No, he wasn’t homeless, but his apartment wasn’t exactly the Ritz.
“Only three better ways? I can think of at least five,” he quipped, somehow managing to cover the nervousness in his voice at how close you were leaning, at how the little details he normally didn’t get to appreciate leant to completing the perfect picture that was you. Despite the nerves that were burning beneath his skin, he leaned down and closer to you, lips ticking up in a smile at how your breath barely caught in your throat at his closeness.
“Fine, then do it,” you commanded in a quiet tone, your eyes seeking his again and holding your ground. His mouth opened to respond but his brain couldn’t catch up with the right words, and it quickly closed before the wrong thing came tumbling out. “You’ve been lying to me for a third of a year, Peter. You can make it up to me.”
“I’m so sorry,” came out quickly, the words matching the sincerity in his eyes. His false air of confidence evaporated as he considered the proper way to apologize to you. His hand twitched toward you at his side and you had to wonder where his instincts had told him to place it before being silenced by his over-thinking. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t…I didn’t want to lie to you. But you thought I was homeless the first day you saw me and I…I don’t know, I’m an idiot. I wanted to tell you, I just…”
“Shhhh,” came the quiet hush from you, your right hand reaching out to delicately rest against his arm, which was for once not covered by the long sleeves of a jacket. Peter caught the way your eyes quickly covered the span of his arms and torso, covered barely with a white undershirt, and felt the subtle dampening of your hand against his skin and your increased heart rate – he’d have to wear less sleeves around you more often. “Stop rambling. You’re supposed to be coming up with the perfect day.”
That shy and overly-excited smile you’d grown to cherish already spread across his face as he reached inside, grabbing a nicer-than-usual jacket to throw over his clothes before running his fingers through his messy hair – not that it helped. Locking the door behind him (not that he had anything inside worth protecting, save for his suit) he joined you in the hallway, shoving hands into his jeans pockets nervously.
“...how’d you figure out where I live?” he questioned, motioning for you to walk forward so the two of you could make your exit. You walked in front of him down the narrow hall, and turned your head to offer a playful smile as you spoke.
“Your aunt is my boss, Peter Parker. You couldn’t have possibly believed you’d get away with that forever?” your focus on toying with Peter and the way a deep blush crept over his cheeks combined with being placed in new surroundings had you nearly stepping off a set of stairs, only to be grabbed and pulled backward against him. As your back connected with his torso you released a deep breath, keenly aware that your heart was beating rapidly and your face was burning red – and of how his voice close to your ear sent a shiver down your spine.
“Careful,” he breathed out quietly, his hands overlapping on your stomach delicately as he held you around your waist. “They don’t clean the staircases in this place and I’d hate to look at your blood every time I come home.”
With a quiet laugh you wiggled free of his arms, shaking your head as you began your descent down the stairs, and Peter collected himself to follow you. It was easier for you to give the full response to his question when you didn’t have to look him in the eye. “I hadn’t seen you this week and I…was worried. When she realized I was talking about you, she gave me your address so I could check on you.”
He was glad your back was to him as you made your way through a final narrow hallway toward the front door, thankful you couldn’t see what was too wide of a smile cross his face. Still, your back to him couldn’t hide the amusement in his voice. “You were worried about me.”
Getting punched in the face by Wilson Fisk last weekend? Totally worth it.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Parker,” you quipped back to him as you opened the door, glancing back at him before rejoining the city. You really didn’t miss a beat. “I thought maybe you got lost time traveling again or something.”
The first of five destinations required the subway, which would become a trend throughout the day as Peter did anything he could to stretch out his time with you. It was endearing to see how he naturally stood closer to you in a public place like the subway, holding genuine conversation with you while his senses remained aware of everything around the two of you. You leaned closer to him to allow your conversation some privacy.
“Where are you taking me first?” you pondered aloud, soft eyes drifting up to his as that light smile found its way to your lips again. Once again something within Peter yearned to have you closer and his hand twitched toward you before he composed himself, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“I’m going to take you to the Museum of Natural History…first,” he smiled, shrugging his shoulders. The movement caused a strand of hair to fall over his forehead, which your eyes absent-mindedly drifted to. “This entire day will be ruined if you have bad taste in dinosaurs.”
A laugh fell from your lips as you shook your head, one of your hands reaching up to push the strand of hair back out of his face, thinking nothing of the movement. Peter, however, felt the air catch in his lungs at the tender action from you – funny how such a small movement to one person can mean everything to another.
“Don’t you laugh at me, I’m serious. I’ll take you home if you tell me your favorite dinosaur is something lame.”
Your mouth fell open in feign surprise as you pushed his shoulder lightly, laughing and shaking your head at his playfulness. Peter was often quiet, soft-spoken and serious around you, but now that the weight of one lie was off his shoulders and he felt like he could be honest about at least half of himself, he was immensely endearing – playful and charming, attentive and respectful. This version of Peter was definitely your favorite.
“We’ll just have to see if I pass your little test then, Mr. Parker,” you smiled, the dimples in your cheeks inviting Peter to kiss them, which he quickly elected to ignore. Returning your smile he crossed his arms over his chest, causing his muscles to flex in the tighter jacket – you weren’t shy about noticing, and he was sure to note that mentally.
You were actually the perfect museum partner – it came up frequently throughout your hours together walking the building. Peter loved watching your face light up at your favorite exhibits and enjoyed even more how your eyes would turn to him expectantly, awaiting whatever fact he had about the exhibit to come. By the time two hours had passed you found yourself tucked under his arm, leaning against his side as he rattled off another fact about the real Jurassic era.
You stayed under his arm as the two of you made your way back outside, Peter pulling you tighter against him as the two of you rejoined the busyness of the city. With a smile you turned to face him, eyes shining in the early evening golden glow. Peter wished he had brought his camera along to capture the moment, and this was not the first time he had done so during his time with you.
“That’s one down. Very educational, I think,” you smiled, teasing him with the reminder that this was as much a test for him as it was you. The light added a golden hue to his eyes and it was impossible to look away, though he offered no indication of wanting to do so. “What’s second on your list?”
He pulled you closer against his side before feigning a look around to gather his bearings before smiling and looking down at you again. “I have to get you my favorite pizza. It’ll definitely make our stomachs upset, but it’ll be so worth it.”
Another subway ride away to get Peter’s favorite pizza and the broken down walls between the two of you meant you were asking the deeper questions, genuinely curious about this person whose company you were already entranced by. Peter worked at a chemistry lab downtown part-time and did some freelance photography on the side, selling images to newspapers and news websites. He’d groaned when you’d stated that you had just graduated law school and would hopefully be licensed soon, saying it was unfair how amazing you were.
It had been years for you since someone had made you smile and blush this way. It had been even longer for Peter to allow himself to behave this way with someone, and while he knew he should stop while he was ahead, there was no force on Earth that could possibly keep him away from you now. You could make the decision to leave due to his selfishness later, anyway – he couldn’t be the one to pull away now.
Not when you ate pizza the way you did, without a care in the world how messy it was – like a real New Yorker. Peter found his heart swelling with pride and affection as he simply watched you take a first bite, giving him a puzzled look at his focused attention. Shaking his head he joined you in the meal, a comfortable silence falling over the two of you as you listened to the Yankees play on a quiet old tv behind the counter over another shared meal between the two of you – though this one was clearly far more meaningful than the others.
He was right – the stomach ache was almost immediate, and as a result the two of you found yourselves leaning against one another on one side of the booth, laying your heads back to recover from the overuse and consumption of cheese. Peter Parker, a lifelong Mets fan, could only congratulate you sternly when the Yankees won before pulling you out of the small pizza shop, telling the owner he’d see him soon.
The sun was going to set soon, and Peter had only completed two activities with you, and you couldn’t help but smile at the fact he was stretching out his time with you the best he could. His arm found its way around your shoulders again as he began to walk the sidewalk with you, inwardly wishing he could just swing the two of you through the city and over all of these people – but determined to keep up that particular lie for as long as the universe (multiverse?) would allow him.
“Okay…you’ve proven yourself a worthy museum companion. You have questionable taste in baseball teams, but you handled that pizza well…which is good, because I eat it at least twice a week,” he gave your shoulder a slight squeeze, enjoying the way you were once again soaking in his words, as if he ever had anything important to say. “We should make it on time to see my favorite view in the city at sunset for activity number three.”
Using a badge he normally used to sell photos to one of the many offices in the building, the two of you were soon on an old, long unused observation deck on the Empire State Building. Technically it wasn’t his favorite view – his favorite view was from the top – but this was close enough to share with you. As you’d yet to shy away from his increasing physical contact he stood behind you as the summer air started to cool, his arms wrapping around you to pull you back against him before his chin rested atop your head. He could get used to this different view if it meant you enjoyed it with him.
Your hands rested over his on your stomach as the sun disappeared, the time passing pleasantly as the two of you shared a moment that required no words to enjoy. When the golden rays were fully gone from sight he pulled you back into him tighter briefly before letting you go, greeting you with a sheepish smile as you turned to face him. Reaching a hand behind his head he rubbed the back of his neck nervously, breathing out deeply and unsure how to break the comfortable silence.
“That’s three down,” you finally spoke, your voice sweet and even a little breathless as your mind refused to move past how it felt to be wrapped up in his arms. Peter was observant in the physical change in you and inwardly felt a swell of pride, though he kept the information to himself so as to not embarrass you. The part of him that craved validation from you mixed with the part of him that was cherishing a true moment of happiness for the first time in so many years to create a sickness within him – a desperation to earn every bit of affection he wanted to take from you.
“Well, normally on a perfect day like today I would try to finish strong…so I’d come by to see if you were around F.E.A.S.T. Sometimes…you pull late nights,” the last part slipped out and luckily you didn’t seem inclined to ask him to elaborate how he knew that. “Seeing as you’re already here with me…maybe I could walk you home?”
You smiled at his clear nervousness at his fourth request for the day – at how such a truly innocent request could cause such a reaction in him. Once again rubbing the back of his neck as he awaited your response you caught him swallow hard, eyes looking anywhere but directly at you for fear of what the rejection would cause in him. To his relief, the rejection he expected, the rejection he probably deserved, didn’t come.
“I live in Hell’s Kitchen,” you stated softly, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you often did nervously. Peter caught the action and noted the skip to your heart, taking some solace in the fact he wasn’t the only one being crushed by nerves right now. “That’s a long way from Queens for you.”
“You said it was my choice in activities today,” he reminded, a playful smile spreading across his face again as he finally allowed his gaze to connect with yours again. A soft pink crept over your cheeks as you smiled, shaking your head at his dramatic choice of words. “I want to get you home safe for my next activity. It’s the most important one of the day.”
His sincerity caused the blush on your cheeks to deepen, finding yourself at a loss for words which was so seldom the case for you. Seizing the moment of silence his hand dropped from the back of his neck to reach out to pull you toward him, placing his arm around your shoulders as he began to work his way back to the streets with you. Between your bodies your fingertips brushed often, far too many times for it to be a coincidence before he finally captured your hand in his, lacing your fingers together for the remaining duration to your apartment. The feeling that passed between the two of you as you made your way home was so comfortable to fall into that you even found yourself taking a few unnecessary turns and the wrong train to prolong your time with him – which of course Peter knew and kept to himself.
It was an old building – dark, black trim, an old iron gate sprawling high above either of you that protected what could be considered a “yard” for the city. Peter felt much more embarrassed about the small glimpse into his home that you’d gotten earlier if even the outside of the building was this nice, and he found himself rubbing the back of his neck again as you unlocked the gate. He did not feel like he belonged in such a nice yard and wondered how bizarre the two of you must look – if anyone potentially witnessing the pairing was wondering for your safety.
“We made it all the way back to my place and you still have one activity left, Peter Parker,” you smiled, managing a playful tone though every cell in your body was screaming with anxiety. His big, bewitching brown eyes turned down through thick lashes to focus on you once more, a soft smile pulling at his lips as he leaned against the frame of the gate, the door swinging open under the light pressure. He was conscious of the rare quiet around the two of you on what seemed to be a tucked away street, choosing to lower his voice to what felt like the appropriate level. What resulted instead was a lower, whispered tone, a chill running down your spine again that Peter couldn’t ignore this time.
“I haven’t forgotten,” his trademark smirk was back on his lips as he leaned in closer to you, teasing your lips with a deep breath against them – whether intentional or not. “Why don’t we…get off the sidewalk?”
On cue with his words one of his hands reached for your hip, giving a gentle tug inward toward the gate to usher you inside. As you made your way to the porch he ensured the gate closed quietly before joining you, stopping your hand attempting to turn the key in the lock.
“As much as I’m sure your place is a million times better than mine…” he began, his hand tugging yours away from the door gently before he used the grasp to pull you closer, his free hand sliding to cup your face in his hand. You found yourself unable to resist melting into his touch, your eyes closing as you leaned into his soft touch. Despite being removed from the street now his voice was still so quiet, so only for you and you were keenly aware of the goosebumps he could certainly see on your skin. “I’m not asking to come inside tonight. I just want you to tell me you’ll see me again.”
There was a quiet anxiousness to his voice that you caught, an understanding smile reaching up into your eyes as you leaned closer to him, standing on your toes so your foreheads could connect in a quiet, tender moment. Feeling comfort at your clear desire to be close to him caused some of the fear to leave his body, his hold on you softening as his eyes closed like your own. It was quiet and gentle, and that was all it needed to be – all either of you wanted.
“I’ll see you again, Peter Parker,” you replied softly after what seemed like enough time had passed. Worried at losing your confidence if you could see how close he was you kept your eyes closed, unaware if his were open or not. “That was a given. You wasted your fifth choice…choose again.”
Your thumb barely brushed over his bottom lip and it set every fiber of his being alight, immediately closing the gap between the two of you to claim what he really wanted to end the evening with. As his lips connected with yours a quiet whine rang out in the night, neither of you quite certain which of you it had come from. The kiss between the two of you began to deepen and he found himself pinning you between his body and the bricks of the building, holding you as though he was worried you’d disappear into thin air. He begged silently with slow, intentional movements to slip his tongue into your mouth which you obliged, quietly moaning into his mouth and tasting the familiar saltiness of tears on his kiss.
It was the perfect end to what had turned out to be a top five day for Peter Parker, so of course he had to finish it out by crying while he kissed you.