As you pulled out your phone and found his number in your contacts list, you walked down the busy sidewalk, looking at the sky above you, watching as it darkened; the wind beginning to shift, blowing a few loose pieces of hair into your face. You remembered vaguely hearing something about a line of severe storms set to blow through over the weekend. The people around you began to hustle, picking up the pace as the first sound of rumbling from overhead disturbed the air.
After four rings, he picked up, "Hello?" You couldn't help but to smile at the sound of his voice.
"Hey, Peter, what time do you want me to head over?" Another clap of thunder sounded above you, the wind beginning to really whip up; you dodged a swirling clump of trash as it tore past you along the curb. You spat a particularly irritating chunk of hair from between your lips.
"It sounds like it's getting pretty bad out there," his voice was full of concern, "why don't you just come over now?"
Before you could answer him, a vibrant and rather large bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, the resounding thunder that followed rumbling through your chest. As unsettling as it was to be outside, you loved when the weather was like this.
"How close are you? I'm heading outside to find you."
"No, no, Peter..." He had hung up. It was just a storm. You only had a few more blocks to go before you reached his apartment.
The clouds above you were an ominous shade of gray, only just beginning to release some of their contents; the heavy droplets weighing down your eyelashes as you picked up the pace. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a flash of red and blue.
The dork had actually put on his suit to swing in and save you from the rain.
It was now pouring. It was impressive as to how quickly the busy streets had cleared of nearly everyone.
You stopped and watched as he spotted your pathetically, wet, and baggy figure; his graceful, self-assuredness as he moved through the air was something you would never get tired of seeing. You loved when he allowed himself to feel confident.
You let out a laugh as he swung down and swooped you up into his arms; he laughed with you as the two of you swung from building to building before landing on the roof of his apartment building. The two of you peeling away from each other with slight difficulty; that suit had to be uncomfortable when wet.
"Oh, Spider-man," you ran your hands down his arms before joining your hands together and putting them under your chin, batting your eyelashes, "my hero!"
You didn't need to see his face to know that he was rolling his eyes at you, "Hey now, I was afraid you were going to melt." The back of your hand playfully batted at his shoulder as he opened the door to the stairs. He had a bag waiting for him tucked away in the corner of the stairwell; he quickly pulled out a pair of pants and a long sleeve shirt, throwing them over his suit, peeling his mask off before giving you a grin.
"Hello."
"Hi."
He grabbed his bag, throwing it over one of his shoulders as he offered his other hand out to you. You took it, loosely linking a few of your fingers together with his as he led you to his door.
Immediately you noticed the distinct lack of one of your favorite people, "Where is May?"
He dropped his bag on the floor by his bed, going over to his closet to pull out a pair of shorts and a sweater, offering them to you. "I thought I mentioned she was visiting an old high school friend this weekend. She's in Jersey."
He began to strip, your cheeks lighting up as you quickly turned around. You heard him hopping around as he struggled to get his suit off. You waited until you heard him hanging it up in his closet to turn around to face him again.
You were impressed with your self-control.
"Oh." It had been a long time since the two of you had been completely alone. You had been friends for as long as you could remember. Things had gotten complicated as the two of you matured. He was attractive. You were attractive. You cared for one another. It was a problem.
He sensed your nervousness, tilting his head in your direction with a raised brow, continuing to dig through his closet for a sweater to put on himself. "Is that OK?"
A problem for you anyway.
"Yeah, yeah," you tried to sound as calm about it as you could, "it's just that I kind of told my mom I was staying here tonight." He pulled your favorite sweater of his over his torso. You stood fiddling with the clothes he had given you, passing the ball of fabric between both hands.
"May knows you're here," his voice tinged with humor, "she even ordered us some food, it's in the fridge." You nodded your head, looking towards the ground.
Peter walked over to you, his hands reaching out to yours, stilling the clothes you had yet to stop playing around with. "I'll sleep on the couch, you can sleep in here if it really bothers you that much, OK?"
"Always so chivalrous, Parker."
"I don't know that I would go that far."
"Sure thing, Spider-man." He grinned at you, turning back to his backpack and pulling out his history textbook; you had a project that needed finishing over the weekend. You stepped out of his bedroom and into the bathroom to get yourself changed into dry clothes.
Standing in front of the mirror, you couldn't help but notice the flush in your cheeks, how your damp hair was slightly curled at the ends; how small you looked in his sweater. You would be lying to yourself if you were to pretend you hadn't noticed how much Peter had grown almost overnight when it had happened. The first thing you had noticed were his shoulders.
Satisfied with your appearance, you headed back into his room; the darkness of the clouds from outside broken up by the frequent flashes of lightning; flashes that lit up the best parts of his face as he looked at you. You could feel the flush on your cheeks deepening as his gaze lingered.
"I should offer you my sweaters more often," he said softly, patting the chair next to him that he had pulled in from the kitchen. He had set out the food May had ordered; two forks and a few napkins ready to go, textbook open, and a blank document ready in word.
By the time you had finished eating and had returned the leftovers to the fridge, the storm had worsened and the power had gone out. It was nearly pitch black in the apartment. The sound of his textbook closing frightening you a bit as it closed in tandem with the thunder outside.
"Well, at least we got a little bit of work done," you spoke in his general direction, the lightening highlighting his form, confirming that he had still not moved. The wind outside was now howling.
"Do you have any candles?" You heard him get up and leave the room. His vision was much better than yours in the dark; one of the many perks to his being a super hero. He returned with a single lit candle, setting it down on his bedside table.
"How's that?"
"Smells like cinnamon."
In the dim light, you could see that he had settled on his bed, one leg hanging off the side, an arm draped lazily across the top of his pillow, eyes closed; long lashes resting on his cheeks. You sat there observing him, taking in what you could see.
"I like the way you smell in the rain." His confession startled you a bit, catching you off guard and making you laugh.
"What?"
"I like the way you look in the rain, too." You looked down at your hands in your lap, weaving them together, tugging on each finger. Your heart was fluttering. You looked up to see him looking at you.
"Come over here." You didn't think it was possible for your heart to beat any faster. When did his confidence begin to stay with him out of his suit?
"Peter..." You were afraid of where this was going. Thrilled, excited, but terrified. You knew that he liked you, but never would have imagined that either one of you would ever work up the courage to allow for those feelings to grow. Was that what this was? Or was the weather outside playing with your nerves?
No. It was all him. He made you nervous when he looked at you through his lashes like that.
He gave you an encouraging grin; the flame of the candle reflecting in his already twinkling eyes had you caught. You crossed the room, your body hovering over his for a moment as you settled yourself next to him on his bed.
You took comfort in knowing you were affecting him in the same ways he was you; both of your hearts were racing, you could almost hear it over the sound of the rain pummeling into the window. Maybe he had used up all of that confidence with his admissions.
Your hand found his; you held your breath waiting for his reaction. He wove his fingers through yours, giving them a light squeeze. For a moment, you both held your breath, looking up at the ceiling, listening to the world outside.
He took in a deep breath and then pulled your joined hands up to his lips, the warmth of him dancing across your fingers, a ticklish sensation making its way down your arm as his lips closed over your knuckles.
You turned to each other then, breathing heavy, your eyes on his lips, his eyes on yours; neither one of you aware of the proximity closing in, neither one of you aware of the magnetic force that was pulling you together.
"Peter..."
And then he was everywhere. He invaded all of your senses the moment your lips met. The warmth of him, the shared warmth; the heat building as your lips worked with his.
Breath catching as you nibbled on his lower lip.
His hands found their way into your hair, fingers tight, down your neck, your waist, and then back into your hair, hand clenching as you did the same to his. He pulled your head back gently, his mouth working the sensitive spots of your neck; your fingers digging into his shoulder blades.
Your hips met with his and then you were melting.
What was it about the dark that brought people together?
What was it about insecurity that ripped people apart?
As one of his hands found its way under the sweater you wore, fingertips grazing the bottom of your breast, the questions in your mind won out over the feel of him.
One hand found purchase on his chest, gently tapping at him, asking for him to wait without pushing him from you. You didn't want the heat of him gone from you. His hands went right to your face, holding your chin between his hands; fingers brushing a few wild hairs from your eyes.
"What's wrong?" His normally thin lips were plumped and red, his cheeks flushed, his eyes wide, his breath coming out needy and wanting. The slightly less confused part of you giddy at having affected him in such a way.
"Is this real? Are we really doing this?" Your voice barely above a whisper. He furrowed his brows at that, not quite understanding what you were getting at.
"Of course it's real." His thumb traced over the outline of your lips.
"When the storm passes..."
"It will be real then, too."
"When the sun rises?"
"Of course."
"OK."
His lips brush across your forehead, and you smile up at him as he pulls your form into his, tucking your head into his chest and wrapping his arms around you.
"You are the only person that I'm really sure of." You lift your head to press a kiss to the underside of his chin, and his arms tighten around you slightly. For a moment, you listen to his racing heart, counting the beats as it slows.
"So, do I still have to go sleep on the couch?"
