It Started With A Whisper ↬ | PETER PARKER x READER |

one || introduction

"Oh my god, Peter, your vision is terrible." You laugh as you push his glasses up the bridge of your nose, squinting your eyes as the living room swims before them through the strong prescription lenses.

Peter squints from his spot across from you on the couch, extending a grabby hand in your general direction as he cries out indignantly, rendered disabled at the loss of his glasses. "Hey, give them back!"

"Fine." You say while removing the thin black frames from your face and placing them back on his, smiling as his bright brown eyes focus on you once more. You bite my lip as you take in his features; his sharp jawline, his unruly left eyebrow and the light dusting of freckles that dance over the bridge of his nose. You tear your eyes away from his face and clear your throat, hoping to distract from the faint blush you feel creeping up by laying your head down on his legs that are dangling off the edge of the couch. "But only because looking through them any longer would give me a headache."

Peter stares down at you with a crooked smile as you extend your legs so you're lying perpendicular to each other. "Well I may not have perfect vision like you but at least I don't cry every time I start to laugh too hard."

Your jaw drops open playfully as you stare up at him with a gasp, your smile peeking through. "Well you.... you...." Your eyebrows furrow as you wrack your brain for a fault of his but come up completely empty. "Fuck, it really is only your eyesight. How are you so perfect?"

He laughs loudly, a nervous smile stretching over his lips as he turns slightly pink, muttering something under his breath that you don't quite catch. You cross your arms and try to act mad but it's futile as a smile creeps up on you. "Don't laugh, I was trying to insult you!"

You press your lips together to hide the smile but as soon as you make eye contact with Peter you both burst into laughter. Your body instinctively curls closer to him as you shake with laughter and his fingers lightly ghost the side of your head, brushing up against your hair. Your eyes prick up amongst the giggles and you sit up, trying to wipe away the small tears of joy before Peter can see them.

He notices immediately and sniggers, making your laughter increase and more tears emerge. You lean into him, resting your forehead on his chest to hide them. You both finally cool down and your breathing evens out, prompting you to lift your head back up.

Peter brings his hand up and cups your cheek lightly as he brushes away a stray tear with his thumb, and if your face wasn't already red from laughing so hard, your blush would be incredibly obvious. He rests his hand on you face for a lingering moment and you find yourself leaning into his touch.

He lets out a shaky breath when your eyes meet and for a second your mind wanders to other places where you could be more than best friends, but the tension is diffused when his hand falls back into his lap and he starts fiddling with his fingers.

"Out of all the times for those tears to show..." You joke, shaking your head lightly with a playful eye roll that makes both of you laugh. You lean back, sinking into the cushion behind you so you're sitting opposite Peter once again.

He looks up at you with a small smirk, nudging you playfully in the side. "Nah, I like them. Lets me know if you actually find my jokes funny or not."

You both chuckle at that and Peter opens his mouth to say something else when May pops out from the kitchen, dusting her hands off on her red apron and sending small puffs of flour in flurries through the air around her.

Her phone is wedged between her ear and shoulder as she listens to the person on the other side of the line. She turns to the two of you, pointing to the phone. "(Y/n), sweetheart, your dad wants you home."

"That would be my cue to leave. Thanks, May." You clamber off of the couch, collecting your textbooks and sweater that you've left around the living room and throwing them into your bag. You slip your shoes on and scamper back over to the couch where Peter is still seated, leaning over the back of it and kissing him on the cheek like you always do whenever you leave each other.

Swinging the Parker's front door open, you yell back into the apartment as you swing your bag over your shoulder, hefting it up with slight difficulty as it is loaded with so many books. "Bye Pete, see you tomorrow! Don't be late!"

"Bye, (Y/n)!" Peter calls from somewhere in the kitchen and you smile as you leave the threshold, shutting the door behind you.

Thankfully the walk home doesn't take a long time since your apartment building is just a few over from Peters. You wave to the doorman before walking out of the building and down the street, pulling your sweater over your chest tightly to shield yourself from the cool evening air.

You fiddle with your house keys as you stand at the end of the long, carpeted hallway, fitting them right into the lock and unlocking the door with a swift twist. You are immediately greeted with the smell of pizza when you walk in, setting your bag and keys down on the counter.

There's a message from your dad next to the pizza box, scrawled in his messy handwriting on a small orange Post-It.

Hey darling,
I had to catch an extra shift at work so I won't be home til late.
Enjoy the pizza, I hope I left you enough :)
I put your permission form and some extra cash on the dining table for your field trip tomorrow.
Have fun and make sure to tell me all about it.
Love,
Dad

You open the box to see half of the pizza left and you put three slices on a plate, bringing them with you to your room. You munch on a piece as you shed your sweater, letting it fall to your bedroom floor. You switch on the lamp on your bedside table, casting the room in a soft, golden glow.

Raking your fingers through your hair tiredly, you step over to your vanity and plug your phone into the charger, your eyes wandering to the pictures you've collected over the years, all stuck onto the edges of the large mirror.

One catches your eye more than the others; a picture of you and Peter hugging tightly on the playground, several baby teeth missing from your fierce 7-year-old smiles. Your hair is pulled into two pigtails while Peter is wearing an Iron-Man shirt and looking every bit as adorable as he does to this day.

Your heart warms at the sight and your mind drifts off to thoughts of the scrawny, nerdy boy you just left behind a few buildings over.

You brush a few fingers over the old photograph as your smile widens, so far over trying to hide that you are completely in love with your best friend.