𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎 𝟏𝟎𝟏. ( 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘬𝘪 )

𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍. the one where peter gets the bagels

˚ ༘ ✶ ₊ ˚. ི CHAPTER 7.
࿐           ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵖᵉᵗᵉʳ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃᵍᵉˡˢ

        "HELLO?" Peter grumbled, staying laying down in his bed as he pressed the answer button on his cell phone. Pieces of his hair sticking up in multiple directions, and strangely enough, his Spider-Man suit boots still on his feet underneath the covers. He assummed he'd forgotten to take them off last night when he got home, the clock ticking around 2 a.m. Maybe he'd stayed at Stiles' too long, though it wasn't like Stiles exactly kicked him out either ( technically he'd invited him to stay the night, since conversation had just seemed to flow so easily ).

      A laugh echoed across the line. "You answered this time! Yes! Nice, okay. Um— right, so... um."

     "Stiles! Give me the phone. God!" The voice of Lydia entered the line, Stiles' sputtering cutting out as Lydia's voice became clearer. "Hey Peter, Lydia here. So, we're decoding and Stiles here thinks you can help. So you need to get here, now."

       Peter eyebrows lifted, a bit afraid of the tone in her voice, and sliding out of bed as she spoke, ripping off the boots and hopping over ( and almost eating carpet ) to underneath one of his ceiling tiles and tossing the boots up into it and sliding it closed in a hurry. "Decoding what exactly?"

      "The deadpool." Lydia deadpanned. "Hurry it up, Parker. Stiles is getting antsy from seperation anxiety over here."

      Peter blushed, ripping off his pajama Beacon Hills Cyclone's shirt with a single hand and snatching one of his iconic science pun shirts along with a plaid button up to go over it. "O— okay. um, I'm getting dressed and I'll be there. Do I pick up like breakfast or something?" He rambled, his nervous habit of doing so kicking in as he felt immensely included in the secret pack things.

        "Yes!" Stiles' voice echoed through the line, faint but still there. Peter nodded, shoving his wallet into his book bag and throwing it over his shoulder.

        "Okay, I'll— I'll see you in like, ten minutes. maybe fifteen, I'm not great at estimating time." Peter spoke, hopping around his room, trying to balance as he pulled on his sneakers and headed towards his bedroom door. The duo across the line agreed, hanging up and leaving Peter to his own.

         Peter jogged into the kitchen to find Aunt May, her figure leaned onto the counter and typing onto her computer, her focus half on that and half on stirring the coffee in her mug. Her head lifted to see the rushing Peter, her eyebrows lifting. "Hey, Pete. Is there a fire?"