Peter Parker One Shots

More Than A Fan

It's been three days.

Seventy-two hours since she'd wrapped her arms around him in their customary hug, the comforting smell of her shampoo clouding his senses and lulling him into the safety he only ever felt around her, breath puffing right over his heart. It was normal, and Peter never expected it to stop only hours later.

He kept on seeing her face in the rain where she'd caught him maskless under the awning of a shop he couldn't remember, hair stuck to her cheeks and neck, eyelashes lined with raindrops. She looked as delicate as a flower in the darkness, almost too stunning to be real, and Peter's guilt clashed with the need to get her someplace warm and dry.

"I need some time," she'd said, like a knife to his chest.

And then she walked away. Peter had never thought about how much he'd miss those hugs until she wasn't there to give them.

Three days.

Aunt May kept on asking him if he was alright when he came out of his room with darkness under his eyes and he always said yes because he knew how much she loved her and he couldn't bear to disappoint another woman in his life with how stupid he had been. She offered up a movie night complete with three bowls of popcorn anyway.

It was on the fourth day, when he'd just finished eating his breakfast, that his phone vibrated.

'Can you come over?' the text read, her name written at the top followed by the yellow heart that guaranteed he wasn't imagining it. She really wanted to see him.

He didn't even answer, rummaging through his closet for a sweater and barely having it over his head before charging downstairs and unhooking his bike from the rack. He completely zoned out on the ride over, going from muscle memory alone.

He was so scared that she was going to leave him. Maybe five months ago he would've been able to handle it; when she was just a girl with pretty eyes and a kickass sense of humor. When she was just his best friend who made his stomach feel weird, who for some reason he couldn't even see the same as he saw Ned even though they were both equally important to him.

Five months ago he could've taken the blow because hey, he'd lost friends before and it hurt for a while but he still had Ned and MJ and they'd do their best to help him forget about her. Five months ago he was helplessly oblivious to the fact that his feelings for her were in no way wholly platonic and that everything she did put hearts in his eyes.

Now, the thought of losing her made Peter feel like he would be blown into thousands of pieces and he wasn't going to let that happen. She was going to let him explain why he kept his identity from her for so long, and she was going to understand.

She was going to understand.

Peter's heart is thrashing around his chest, thumping with the beats of his knuckles against the wooden door as he knocks. It's warmer than he thought outside, or maybe that's just his body heating up from the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He balls the edge of his sleeve into his palm nervously, tapping his feet against the faded welcome! mat, feeling anything but.

The slight creak of the door as it opens sounds loud in his ears and he jumps, eyes darting to the figure in the frame and widening in turn. There she is, the crinkles at the edges of her eyes the first thing he sees and the large t-shirt she wears the second.

It's bright red, with a cartoon version of Spider-Man swinging across the front. His name is etched down the long sleeves swallowing her arms in bold letters and Peter almost has to squint with the sunlight reflecting off of the material.

"So, question," she starts casually, rocking on her feet - which are clad in socks that resemble that part of his suit flawlessly - and not at all appearing mad like Peter had expected and prepared for. "You wear boxers, right?"