♚𝕻𝖊𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖐𝖊𝖗 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖙𝖘

Cold Hands

The sun was high in the sky. There was a gentle breeze blowing through the streets of New York City. The smell of burgers and hot dogs filled the air as Peter and I wandered down the street together. We were heading towards our favorite cafe that just so happened to be in the middle of the busiest part of the city. It was where we always spent our days off during summer. Either that or Peter was busy with either OSCORP, being Spider-man or working at the newspaper. I would sometimes sit there alone, watching the world pass by while drinking some coffee or tea and typing away on my laptop. Peter was in the middle of tinkering with his camera. He was mumbling about how he hated when it broke and how he needed a new one. I was attempting to listen to him, enjoying his little mutterings before I realised something. The lack of warmth in my hands. The lack of warmth that has always been there ever since I was kid. And Peter's bare neck. I smile to myself before leaning up and placing my hand onto the back of his neck, making sure that he felt the cold that I was feeling. "Bloody hell, (Y/N)!" Peter jumps away from me. "Your hands are freezing," He lets go of his camera, leaving it to hand by the strap around his neck. He slips my hands into his. He holds them between them, rubbing them together to spark some form of warmth. "Why are they so cold? It's the middle of summer!" I shrug my shoulders, enjoying the warmth that he was spending through my hands. "They're always cold. I thought you knew that?" "I do," He rubs my hands. "But I thought that was just in winter not all the freaking time!" I laugh at him as he continues to add some heat to my ice cold hands. People walk by us. People barge into us. Some even give us strange looks. A few elder couples mutter to one and other about how they remember being just like this, about how their hands are always cold and their partner used to do that. There are a few scowls and bitter murmurs added to the mix. "Admit it: you love the fact that I have cold hands just so you can hold them all the time." I joke. "Well, you know the saying," He smiles. "Cold hands means a warm heart." "You have a pretty warm heart too, Peter." I smile back at him. Peter leans closer to me, his hands still wrapped around mine. He sets his lips onto mine. It sparks a new kind of warmth throughout my body. A heat fills my cheeks as we stand in the middle of the street, hands clasped together. He releases my hands and cups my face, pulling me closer into him. I can feel his fingers lacing their way into my hair. We finally pull apart, staring at each other. I am met with his big brown eyes smiling down on me. He pecks my lips one more time before lacing his hand into mine and shoving it into his pocket to resume our walk to our favorite cafe.