tom holland: a book of blurbs

•{cheese puff//p1}•

summary: Peter has this cat. a skinny little orange cat he rescued from a dark alleyway in Queens on a freezing snowy night. he didn't plan on having the animal for long. but before he knew it... he needed the darn feline more than he planned.

tw: soft. WAY too freaking soft. that's all. :))

(set after NWH when Peter is out living on his own, he's past his trauma, and living a mostly stable life)

~~

It had been a long, long day of patrolling the city for Peter. It seemed the days were just bleeding into each other. As if there wasn't a system of separate days with their own names and titles.

He guessed it just happened that way for him. He has the same schedule every day. There isn't really a change for him from one day to the next. No one to really hang out with.

Though he's begun an acquaintanceship with Happy, it's not the same. The energy just isn't there anymore. Not like it used to be. So he doesn't have too much motivation for relationships of any kind at the moment.

He's just now settling into a system of days that doesn't include him miserably sulking around his quiet apartment by himself.

Peter slid his bedroom window closed after he'd slipped inside it from the fire escape. With a heavy tug, his mask was off of his face, allowing his throbbing lungs access to better oxygen.

He wanted nothing other than to just rip his suit off and climb into bed for the night. He wasn't very hungry anyway so no real reason to stay up for dinner or anything.

Settling for a pair of basketball shorts for nightwear, he wandered into the kitchen for his last task of the day.

Feeding the stray cat he'd taken in from a dark alleyway one cold night. It's been snowing and below zero temperatures, he wouldn't be able to live with himself knowing he left a defenseless and hungry animal outside.

Plus, the skinny little orange cat reminded him of Delmar's cat. The animal became a sense of comfort and purpose for him right after... well... his entire life seemed to fall apart really.

The cat helped him ease back into a schedule. A healthy routine. Waking up in the morning at a decent time, spend a few hours in the gym down the street, grab groceries on the way home if he needed to, whip up a quick lunch, then head out for his patrols. Making sure to leave a full bowl of food and water for the cat.

Then, return home that evening, clean out the litter box, give the cat some TLC (which really benefitted Peter more than the cat if he's really being honest with himself), and refill his food and water bowls for the night. Leaving his door cracked open just in case the cat ever wanted to initiate any kind of overnight cuddle sessions.

It's all muscle memory at this point. He does it unknowingly, really. Doesn't really think too much of it. Same stuff every day, he guesses you really don't have to put too much thought into it.

Tonight, however, was different. Because the little orange ball of fur and green eyes seemed extra affectionate. As Peter was filling it's water bowl, it hopped up onto the kitchen counter and nuzzled against his muscled arm.

It also weaved in and out from around his ankles while Peter filled it's food bowls. When the exhausted hero decided to plop down on the couch for a while, the cat followed.

It trotted up to the couch, hopped up onto his lap, and curled up on his bare chest. It then started purring and closed it's eyes. Peter swore if cats could smile, this cat would have the biggest sleepy grin on it's face.

As Peter gently pet between the cat's ears, he felt a little guilty. He'd never given the cat a name. He couldn't really think of one. And at first, he'd been trying to convince himself that once he'd gotten himself out of his mental funk, he'd take the cat to the nearest humane society so it could get a "better home".

However, the hero just couldn't muster up enough courage to get rid of the poor animal. He'd grown attached to it without meaning to. The fluffy, orange little fur ball.

Peter was convinced there was something wrong with the feline. That he had to keep it until it started behaving like a normal cat. As far as he knew, cats weren't this affectionate.

Right?

He's known many cats in his life and most of them have been cranky and antisocial. It couldn't have been a coincidence that the cat he rescued just happened to be one of the sweet ones.

It's got some kind of mental issue. It... wouldn't be safe to send it off, right? And- and he didn't wanna put that kind of burden on the shelters either. They already had enough on their plates to deal with a mentally ill cat.

So he figured he'd make their jobs easier and take care of it for them. Right? Doing the shelters a favor.

Sure. Sure, Peter. Complete and total softie. An Avenger who has developed a deep and emotional connection to a freaking cat. Of all things.

A freaking cat.

Further proving his kind heart and gentle manners, Peter fell asleep on that couch. With the orange "fur ball" curled up and purring away on his chest. Soothing the exhausted hero right to sleep without him having a mere second to protest otherwise.