tasm one-shots

three

You weren't surprised when you woke up in the middle of the night to the empty spot next to you. It's not a rare occurrence for Peter to hop out of bed in the middle of the night once he hears the sirens go by. As a native New Yorker, sirens have become a regular occurrence, it's something you think nothing of when you hear it. That was until you met Peter, of course. Because now, every time you hear the god forsaken sirens, you know Peter is off. Another perk of being a native New Yorker is being able to ignore all of the loud noises while you sleep. But with Peter's super-hearing, he wakes up every time and manages to slip out your bedroom window without even making you stir.

You sigh softly as you slip out of bed, yawning as you pad over to the tv in your bedroom, turning it on. It's already on the news channel from the last time you awoke in the middle of the night to check on Peter. You chew on your thumbnail while you watch the live footage of the burning building, following closely on Spider-Man who swings in and out of the unstable structure with new people in his arms every time. He can handle himself, you know that. But it doesn't stop you from being nervous every time.

It was about an hour until the footage had stopped. You scrolled through social media to try and take the edge off while you subtly glanced back at the tv every few minutes, and you felt great relief when it was finally all over. Peter'd be home any second, and you could tell he was here as soon as you heard the thump outside your window. You quickly rushed from your spot to the window, helping him open it and crawl inside. You know he's sore, he always is after his spider-duties. The good thing is that he'll be 90 percent healed by morning.

"You should be in bed," he grunts as he lifts his legs over the windowsill, "did I wake you?"

Only Peter would worry about waking you after he'd just swung in and out of a burning building to save so many people's lives.

"No, Pete. It doesn't matter, anyway. Are you okay? How are you feeling?" you ask, nervously awaiting some big bad wound he'll show you. Or, you'll find, more like it.

"I'm alright. Just—help me get this off, please?" he asks, referring to his suit as he pulls his mask off. His cheeks are red and his hair is damp and pressed to his forehead. You feel so bad for him, but you know the last thing he wants is sympathy. So, you step forward and press a soft kiss to his chest before peeling the suit down his shoulders, a sigh falling from his lips.

"I couldn't save everybody," he mumbles as you pull it down his shoulders, Peter slipping his arms out.

"You can't always save everyone, Pete. You know that." You don't want to make the situation worse by making him upset, but maybe if you get it into his head at first, he won't feel so bad later.

"I know, I know," he whispers, looking down at his feet. You slip the suit further down, at his waist now. "I just wish I could, y'know?"

"I get it. But your life is important, too. I don't know what I'd do if someday you didn't come home," you admit, Peter's heart thumping wildly. He hadn't really thought of that while he was inside that building, walking through bursting flames. He tried to save an old lady stuck in her bedroom. He knew it was unsafe, the structure all around it was falling apart. But he walked forward anyways, and stopped when wall beams crumbled down in front of him. What if that had been on top of him? He would have not came home then, not at all.

Peter couldn't even bring himself to respond as he pulled his legs out of the suit, and he caught you scanning his body for injuries. And you found what you were looking for on his right bicep.

"Jesus, Peter. That's bad," you say, eyes focused on the blistering burn.

"It's fine, it'll heal quickly," he says, and although it's true, you can never bring yourself to leave it alone. You know first aid training, anyway. Something you kinda need to know while dating Spider-Man. You walk him to your shared bathroom and sit him on the edge of the bathtub, quickly getting to work. You fix up his arm, cleaning it and adding ointment before wrapping it up. Once you finally finish and toss the garbage, you turn back around to find him already looking at you, a small smile on his face.

"What?" you chuckle, slightly caught off guard as you continue to clean up your stuff.

"Nothing. I just love you," he smiles, your cheeks blushing slightly at the sudden phrase.

"I love you, too," you smirk, stepping forward and wrapping your arms around the back of his neck.

"I honestly don't know what I'd do without you," he admits, thinking back to what you said earlier. Maybe he's realized that he can't bring himself to leave you alone, either. If you're all he has, maybe he's all you have.

"I know, right?" you reply, Peter tapping your ass playfully.

"Let's head to bed, yeah?" he mumbles.

"Yeah, I'd love that."