Ghost of You

t h i r t y - f o u r

*A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating, I've been insanely busy the past couple weeks. I love you all, and I hope you're all staying safe, happy and healthy <3*

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"Come on, Please? Just one more round!"

My chest was rising and falling rapidly, my back pressing into the floor of the mat below. Each of my legs were bent at uncomfortable angles, one arm was stretched above my head, and the other resting on my stomach as I struggled to catch my breath. My eyes were trained on the ceiling, tracing over the maze of giant tubes and pipes, or at least they had been until Peter's head popped into my view.

He was standing near the top of my head, peering over me so that his head was upside down. His face was bobbing up and down as he jumped excitedly, rocking back and forth between each of his feet. His arms were swinging loosely at his sides, each hand covered by a sleek black boxing glove. The grey dry-fit shirt he wore was fluttering slightly as he did his annoyingly energetic little routine, waiting for me to get up off the floor.

"I promise this'll be the last one, just one more go." He wined hopefully.

Even from this position I could tell he was giving me his best attempt at pleading, puppy-dog eyes. It might have worked too if he hadn't picked that moment to jump on my hair, which had been laying behind me in a ponytail. In his efforts to get me to resume training with him, he hadn't been paying close enough attention to his own feet. I could feel my hair yanked at the back of my head and I winced slightly at the painful tug.

"Oh crap, uh, that was an accident, I'm so sorry." He said quickly, scrambling around to the other side of me.

He ripped off one of his gloves and used his free hand to drag me up into a sitting position, my ankle monitor grating harshly against my skin as he did.

"It's alright." I sighed, rubbing gingerly at the back of my head. It was still stinging gingerly.

"I should have been paying more attention, I'm so sorry." He repeated, sounding slightly panicked. "Should I get you some ice? Or uh- maybe some water or something?"

"Really it's fine." I assured him, pulling the half-torn hair tie the rest of the way out and letting my hair fall onto my shoulders. "I had my head slammed into a wall once, a step on the hair is nothing in comparison."

His nervous expression relaxed slightly as I gave him a quick smile. He turned towards the edge of the boxing ring, taking off his other glove as he went. I watched as he grabbed my water bottle out of my bag and a gatorade from his, then he walked back, bent down and sat across from me. He grinned sheepishly, still looking a little guilty as he extended his arm out towards me, water bottle in hand.

"I really am sorry, Miss (Y/n)." He apologized for the third time. "I won't do that again, I swear. Sometimes I just get all hyper and I don't really think about what I'm doing."

"You're making me feel old, Peter." I sighed. "Just call me (Y/n)."

I had been trying to get him to stop calling me that for both of the past training sessions we'd had. So far I hadn't been successful in breaking that habit, although I think I finally understood why Tony got so annoyed when I kept referring to him Mr. Stark for so long. I would have suspected Tony had put Peter up to it, but Peter still called him Mr. Stark every chance he got so I knew it was just Peter being, well... Peter.

"Right, (Y/n), sorry." He replied, screwing the cap off his drink and taking a long sip of the dark blue liquid. The action left a blue circle around the top of his lips. I reached up to my own motioning that he had the drink still on his face. He seemed to get the message because he quickly mimicked me, wiping at his mouth furiously with the hem of his shirt, staining the grey with tinges of dark blue. I took a sip from my own bottle as he did, giving him a thumbs up after he looked at me questioningly, silently asking if the blue mark was still there.