𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐗 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 - 𝟓

Red Brick Wall ❀

𝐀/𝐍 - All credit goes to the writer hollandsangel on Tumblr

https://www.tumblr.com/hollandsangel/693692420138926080/mei-and-i-were-day-dreaming-about-this-in-the-dms?source=share

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → none

Summary → Peter is much less coordinated than he likes to believe.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

It's just past dinner time, getting near to late evening as you lay atop your bed with a book held between your hands. Peter had texted you about twenty minutes ago that he was on his way, just in time to make your scheduled weekly date night. You'd left the window open for him, hoping to forgo any small talk between him and your roommates so you could selfishly get your boyfriend all to yourself.

Another few minutes pass, and you check your and Peter's text thread again,

Petey♡

be there in twenty !

You

okay, the window's open :)

Petey♡

love youuu

It has been over half an hour now, and you find yourself growing antsy as you indulge in the banter between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy as you wait for your friendly neighborhood doof.

Thud!

The sound is solid when it hits the wall by your open window, and you promptly sit up, book falling close in your lap.

"What the-" you start, quickly hopping off your bed to inspect what hit the side of your building. You assume it was one of the kids from the first floor trying to toss something at you and missing, but as you clamber from your bed, your suspicions are put to rest.

"Shit," a familiar voice curses, "Babe?" The voice twists into a groan.

"Peter!?" You gape, voice wrapped in astonishment.

All you can hear outside is a few muffled grunts as he tries to shift over to the window you so graciously left open as a point of entry for him. He looks ridiculous, wearing scuffed new balances and his signature khaki pants. His top half is accentuated by a tight white tee and his arms remain wrapped in a blue plaid button up, rolled to his elbows. It's a typical outfit for the mundane superhero, but he has his mask pulled down over his face, and he's dangling in front of you a web no doubt slung to the fire escape above you.

Standing in the middle of your bedroom with your arms hanging limply by your sides, you stare at your boyfriend curiously. He's wriggling relentlessly before you, trying to gain enough momentum to shift just a bit right and step along your windowsill. He's only using one hand, the other occupied by a small bunch of carnations with now broken stems, and his weight is offset by the undoubtedly heavy backpack slung over his opposite shoulder.

"Petey?" You call amidst his struggling, stepping closer slightly, "baby, do you need some help?"

He promptly shakes his head, a gruff, "no," coming out in another grunt, followed by an exasperated sigh when he finally gets a hold on something solid. "Oh my god," he pants, "that was embarrassing." Peter jumps down into your bedroom and peels his mask off. His face is flushed a deep red that follows from his cheeks to his neck and ears, a product of exertion and disconcertment.

As he regains himself, he straightens his shirt and- wait, is that your shirt? (Well technically his that you stole) you find yourself wondering- it doesn't matter, and you shake yourself of the thought. "Are you okay?" You step forward, arms extending to him as he drops his bag to your floor with what seems to be a sigh mingled with a groan, his fingers still wrapped tightly around the pretty flowers.

"Yeah, yeah I'm good," he nods, "I got you these, sorry they're...kinda broken now." His tone is so sheepish and endearing as he thrusts the small bundle forward.

Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you grin, "they're beautiful Pete, thank you." You gingerly take the flowers from him and lay them on your desk. "I'll grab a vase for them in a second, c'mere." You outstretch your arms to him and walk forward. He sags against your body when you're close enough, sighing heavily into your neck.

"M' glad you like 'em." He mumbles, wrapping you up tightly in his firm arms, "And I'm sorry I'm late, I stopped to grab them and then was in a rush...I can't believe I missed the window." He giggles, the sound falling perfectly into your neck, "my head hurts."

This evokes a hearty laugh from you, "I'll grab you some painkillers," but when you try to pull away, Peter pouts out a no and holds you a little tighter.

"Stay here."

You can't move from his strong hold, but you don't want to, so you wrap your arms just as tightly around his waist and lean up to kiss the scuff on his cheekbone, "is your mask torn?"

He turns his head so his cheek is resting on your shoulder, looking at his mask he'd dropped on the floor, "a little," he observes.

"You looked a little silly with just it on," you giggle, another pass of your lips to his cheek. "Makes me wanna kiss you all over your face," you gush.

"Yes." He says sternly, "yes, please do that."

So you do, until the pained scowl on his thin lips is replaced with a blinding grin and he's giggling at how ticklish your lips feel on his skin.

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