Chapter Text
To Spider-Man,
Actually, I thought about it again, and I think this letter is better addressed to you, Peter. Peter Parker.
I haven’t seen you around lately. But I have a feeling I know what you’ve been doing, and maybe, if it’s within my right, I want to say that I know what you’re feeling too.
I don’t know how to start this, so I guess I can start with the truth. When I found out you were Spider-Man… everything sort of… clicked into place? If that even makes sense. Peter, what I’m trying to say is that everything made a lot more sense—to learn that you, yes, Peter, you! were the selfless superhero keeping the city safe.
And don’t get me wrong, that’s super cool and all! To know that my upstairs neighbor is Spider-Man. But don’t let Spider-Man get in the way of being Peter Parker too. Because I like Peter Parker infinitely more than I like Spider-Man. Just thought you should know that.
The last thing I want is to scare you away, so that’s why I’m giving you space to do whatever it is you need to do. But please, Peter—please don’t go where I can’t follow.
I just want you to know that if the world ever feels too heavy on your shoulders, then I would gladly help you carry it.
So I’ll wait here, at our spot at the cafe or in my room, with my curtains drawn, or in the lobby of our shitty apartment that's always threatening to fall apart. You can take your time.
I’ll wait. I'll wait forever, if you’d let me.
I don’t even know when or if you’ll get this letter, but if you ever get the chance to read it, you know where to find me :)))
With love,
Lara Jean
P.S. Feel free to knock any time!
P.P.S. Seriously, I mean it.
Peter’s lips are becoming sore as he grins like an idiot when he reaches the end of her letter for what must be the thousandth time now. Even with her firm letter paper, it’s crumpled and definitely worn, threatening to fall apart at the creases and folds.
Peter doesn’t carry a lot (or anything) with him when he's Spider-Man, but this slip of paper is the single exception.
It’s around noon, it’s a little chilly out, there are patches of snow on the ground, and he’s doing one last patrol before he has to leave.
When he hears the alarm bells of a jewelry store two streets down, he knows he made the right decision, whooping as he swings towards the place.
“Hey guys,” he offers the thieves a wave before shooting his webs and trapping one of them to the glass display.
“Oh, come on!” The man groans as his accomplice takes off running.
Spider-Man sighs, “Really?”
Then he swings after the runaway and comes back with him, balled up in a cocoon of his webs in one hand and the bag of stolen goods in the other.
When he looks between them both again, his eyes widen in recognition—they’re the same burglars from last year.
Then he laughs, “Don’t do this again, please? Especially when it’s around the holidays.” He swings Burglar 2, the one in the cocoon, around as they wait for the cops.
“Or what?” he challenges, then laughs. “It’s not part of the holiday spirit?”
“I won’t be around to stop you. Actually—“ He glances at the wall clock in the store. “I’ve got a flight to catch soon.” Then he freezes, realizing he shouldn’t have admitted that.
What was taking the cops so long?
Burglar 1’s eyebrows furrow together, and he says, “I thought you didn’t have a life, Spider-Man.”
He laughs. “W-Well. That was then. And this is now.”
Thankfully, finally, he hears sirens in the distance. “And that’s my cue.” He uses his webs to bundle them up together, making sure they’re extra secure before he leaves them alone with the civilians.
And for good measure, he kicks their weapons far, far away from them.
“Anyways. Gotta go bye—flying to Portland to meet my girlfriend’s family,” he waves as he runs out in a mad dash. “Wish me luck!”
He swings straight to the airport. Grabs flowers for her on the way. Spots her pink backpack and bright yellow suitcase at their departure terminal immediately.
She turns around when she senses him coming, and smiles, “Peter, hey.”
And Peter Parker stops asking Lara Jean Song Covey for permission to kiss her.