The heat with which Spider-Man kissed you was almost startling. It had been as if you two hadn’t seen each other in ages, which isn’t true since you had a date yesterday on top of the Pizza Hut nearby your place.
Spider-Man’s warm tongue glided over yours with not quite perfection but damn near good enough for you.
You had to pry yourself away from him after a few minutes and force him to talk.
“What’s wrong?” you asked, holding his hands.
Spider-Man rolled his mask down over his mouth again. “I guess you could say it’s been a rough night,” he admitted.
You smile apologetically. “How bad?”
“Not so bad. But when everything builds up you just have to find a way to take it out and beating up bad guys isn’t enough so-”
“So you take it out on me instead?” You conclude with a laugh. “Don’t worry,” you assure your boyfriend when he begins to fret over the choice of words. “Making out with you is really fun. But maybe things are building up because you don’t talk about it.”
Spider-Man groaned. “Here we go” he seemed to say.
“I’m being serious.”
“I know that you’re being serious,” Spider-Man responded. “That’s why I hate it.”
You pout and lean back against the low wall on the roof, looking down at the traffic and shadows and blinking lights. “If you don’t trust me, you can just say so,” you mumble.
“Y/n,” Spider-Man said softly. “I do trust you. It’s mostly myself I don’t trust. Nobody can know about-”
“About your secret,” you finish for him. “I know that! I know everything you’re going to say! Spider-Man isn’t a party trick, it’s not a game, you’ve told me all of it!”
Spider-Man sighed. You can see his face moving underneath the mask, most likely becoming pinched with frustration.
“I’ve never seen your face,” you finally say. The wind blows across your forehead. “I’ve let you seen most of me and yet you never let me see your face. Maybe I trust you too much.”
Spider-Man looked hurt. You looked hurt too probably. You felt hurt, coiling across your ribs and binding your arms and feet, making you claustrophobic despite being out in the open with pleasantly cool wind reminding you that you aren’t bound.
“I wish that I could,” Spider-Man whispered. “But I can’t.”
You nod. “I know.”
“Are you upset with me?”
You shivered. “I don’t know,” you admit, turning to look at him. “I’m upset in general. Upset and confused and torn.”
Spider-Man held his head in his hands. “You don’t deserve this, you know. Stupid dates on roof tops. Going out with someone you don’t even really know. Not being able to even say you have a boyfriend.”
“So? Are you saying we should break up?” you ask.
“Then what are you saying?”
“I don’t know,” he lamely replied. “I know that I don’t want to give you up. I want to be selfish and keep you so that I’m happy.”
“And what about my happiness?” you ask again.
Spider-Man took a deep breath. “What would make you happy?”
You clench your fists tightly. “I think you damn well know,” you snap, glaring at him hard. You look away quickly. “I’m going to sleep. I have a stupid chem test tomorrow and I would rather not fight with you.”
“Wait, a chem test tomorrow?” Spider-Man smacked his forehead. “A test tomorrow!” he exclaimed to himself. You stare in confusion. “Huh?”
“I-I forgot that you have school on Sundays!” he stuttered.
“Tomorrow is Friday,” you correct sharply. You don’t understand what he’s saying but you’ve become much to angry to bother asking what was wrong. “Goodnight.”
“Y/n, wait, are you going to leave without fixing this? Without fixing us?” Spider-Man took your hand to stop you, the way Romeo would try and stop Juliet.
You pulled it back. “The only one who can fix this is you, babe,” you say hoarsely. “Goodnight.”
You slump onto the sofa and sigh contently. The tension from today drained down your legs; school started early-as usual-and sucked-as usual-and Peter Parker slammed into you in the hallway, making you spill a peach cup down your hoodie. He stuttered and stumbled over himself to apologize and help. You could only take a breath and smile gently.
Peter’s pretty cute and dorky. In a lot of ways, he reminded you of your boyfriend. Your stupid boyfriend.
So you gently touched his shoulder and assured him that you weren’t mad. Then the morbid chemistry test came, and Peter sat down behind you. It’s such a strong thing to accuse someone of, and you definitely don’t want to outright accuse him, but you’re pretty sure that Peter cheated off your test. He kept staring at you the entire class. But he’s majorly smart and so goody-goody that you can’t picture Parker doing such a thing.
You made a mental note to get a peek at his score; if it’s the same then you might look into it more.
You tried really hard not to think about Spider-Man during school and now that you’re home, there’s nothing to distract you. Your mom is off at the store or at her office so you’re alone with thoughts.
Just as you considered eating ice cream straight from the carton the doorbell rang. You didn’t answer it. Besides, you’re alone, so what if you get kidnapped?
Of course it rang again, followed by impatient knocks. You stomped across and opened the door.
The last person you expected to be at your door stood right in front of you now. “Peter?”
He looked so relieved.
“How do you know where I live?” you ask, shifting uncomfortably on your legs.
“Y/n, I need to tell you something right now and I’m not going to chicken out or anything because you’re right! You need to be happy too. I trust you so much and I will protect you with my life.”
You stared wide eyed at Peter, who ranted on and on about things that didn’t make sense. “Are you alright?” you ask slowly. “I can call someone for you if you’d like. Uber okay? I have some cash you can bor-”
“I’m Spider-Man,” Peter blurted out.
“Haha…wait a second. What did you just say?”
“I…I said that I’m Spider-Man,” Peter said again, sounding more confident this time. “I’m Spider-Man and I’m sorry and I’m in love with you.”
You put a hand over your forehead as the floor begun to spin underneath you.
“Oh, shit,” Peter hissed when your eyes rolled back and you slunk to the floor. Peter caught you in time and sighed heavily to himself. “That went well.”