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You’d realized early on in you and Peter’s friendship that he had absolutely no sense of personal space. The conclusion had come to you not in one moment, but a series of them.
Peter grabbing your hand while walking. Peter wrapping you in a hug at the most unplanned moments. Peter resting his hand on your leg when sitting next to each other.
Really, it wouldn’t come as a surprise that you’d start to develop certain feelings or ideas after two years of this. You had a love/hate relationship with Peter’s lack of personal space if you were being honest with yourself. On the one hand, you were in love with your best friend and having him touch you so intimately wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. On the other hand, you were in love with your best friend and having him touch you so intimately but so platonically was the most heart-wrenching thing you could endure.
Although his most recent space-defying habit really made your teeth grind.
You don’t know when Peter had started his put-my-face-two-inches-from-your-face fase, but you knew it was extremely distracting. Really, his face was always just right there . You could turn your head and you’d be nose-to-nose. Being nose-to-nose with Peter in itself wouldn’t be all that bad, if of course he felt the same way about you which he didn’t .
It will pass , you told yourself. Just have patience.
But the more he did it the harder it was to tell yourself otherwise.
‘Y/N,’
‘Hm?’ You hum, not looking up from textbook. You can feel the heat radiating off of Peter’s skin, making it exceedingly difficult to focus on your algebra assignment.
‘Do you think it would be acceptable to throw myself out of a window after these exams are over?’ He groans, lowering his head to rest it on your shoulder. You feel yourself relax slightly.
‘Ten bucks Spider-Man would catch you before you hit the ground.’
Peter huffs out a laugh, his breath warming your neck. You suppress a shiver. ‘You’re on.’
You shake him off your shoulder, shoving his head down towards his own book, ‘But you can only jump once you’ve passed.’
He turns to look at you, laying his cheek down against the pages. ‘Why would I jump if I passed?’ a smile tickles the corner of his lips and you roll your eyes.
‘Exactly my point.’ You poke his nose with the eraser of your pencil and he scrunches it. Your heartbeat picks up in pace and you think maybe you should be the one jumping out of a window.
He’s silent for a few moments before he groans again. ‘Can we take a break yet?’
‘Pete, we took a break like thirty minutes ago.’
‘I read somewhere that you should take a break every fifteen.’ he says matter-of-factly. You raise your eyebrows at him and he huffs in annoyance. ‘I don’t want to study anymore.’
‘I’ve noticed.’ You keep your eyes glued to your book, but from the corner of your eye you see Peter snake his hand towards yours. He tangles your free hand with his, opting to play with your fingers rather than studying. ‘Peter.’
‘Yes?’
You sigh, closing your book and turning towards him, finally meeting his eyes. ‘How about we stop for today?’
A grin spreads across his face, lighting up his features. He tugs you towards him, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. ‘You read my mind.’
~o0o~
‘Chinese or Indian?’ Peter asks, grabbing your hand as he slings the fading blue strap of his bag over his shoulder. He pulls you out of the school and you arch a brow.
‘I take it I’m eating dinner with you tonight?’
He shoots you a grin over his shoulder. ‘We have to celebrate the end of the dreaded exams.’
‘Rethought the whole ¨Throw myself from a balcony” thing, have you Juliet?’
He laughs, leading you through an alleyway. ‘Juliet didn’t throw herself from a balcony, she stabbed herself. And it was jump out of a window, just so you know.’
‘Potato, tomato. Potato, tomato.’
‘You suck at phrases, Y/N.’ Peter laces his fingers through yours as you walk.
‘What can I say, it’s part of my charm.’
He shakes his head and you furrow your brows as a pang echoes in your chest. Stupid feelings always getting in the way, You think, shuffling your feet.
You realized your feelings for Peter six months ago. It had been your birthday and Peter knocked on your door at an ungodly hour that morning before dragging you out of your apartment and single handedly giving you the most amazing birthday ever . He’d organized everything- not leaving a single minute that wasn’t packed with something you love.
‘You never answered my question,’ he sing-songs, snapping you out of your stupor.
You purse your lips, humming for a moment.
‘Hmmm, Chinese,’ You finally say.
He squints, slowing down half a step to walk beside you. ‘You always pick Chinese,’
‘If you know what I’m going to say, then why ask?’
‘Chivalry,’ You snort and he bumps your shoulder playfully.
‘You have about as much chivalry as a dying cat,’
‘Rude,’ he scoffs and you grin cheekily before silence falls on you, the only sound being the echo of your footsteps on gravel. You swing your intertwined hands beside you and Peter chuckles softly. ‘You’re like a little kid,’
Your nose scrunches, earning a laugh that’s louder than the last. Peter throws his head back, a smile perfectly etched onto his mouth. You shake your head and let go of his hand, quickening your pace before turning on your heel and walking backwards in front of him.
‘I suppose that makes you daddy?’ The horrified look on Peter’s face is enough to set you off and you double over as laughs wrack your body. You can feel his glare but you pay him no heed, gasping for breath instead.
‘You’re the worst,’ He sounds irked and you straighten your back, swiping away the tears from under your eyes.
‘I’m the best,’ You simply reply.
~o0o~
The sound of thunder cracking against the sky wakes you and your eyes shoot open, hands gripping the soft fabric you’re lying upon. The blue hue of the TV casts an eerie light upon your surroundings and you take them in without moving.
After dinner with Peter you watched movies until you supposedly fell asleep, you remember him saying something about Aunt May being out of town. Your heart races in your chest, your breathing suddenly racing into a speedy staccato.
The sound of thunder rings out again, this time accompanied by a flash of light that seems to split the sky through the window curtains, and you swear the apartment complex shakes.
Peter groans underneath you, but you feel it more then see it, the patter of rain against glass drowning out the quietest noises.
Hands reach up to your waist and Peter moves, sitting up and pulling you closer to his chest. Your eyes flash to the clock on the far wall. 4:13 .
‘I checked the forecast last night,’ Peter’s voice is gravely and you don’t doubt your heart would flutter at the sound if it wasn’t already preoccupied by constant stabs of fear. ‘Never said anything about rain.’
You press your face into his neck and his hand wanders into your hair. You blink away tears- stupid, stupid, stupid. You know Peter wouldn’t ever judge or ridicule you for your fears, but you still can’t help but feel a little ridiculous, being coddled in his lap like a child.
‘I’m sorry,’ His breath brushes your ear and you shake your head.
‘S’okay,’ You manage to mumble, Peter hums in response. Silence envelops you as you sit there together, one comforting the other. He rocks back and forth slowly, lightly, and besides the fear, you feel the familiar flutter of love in your gut.
You only pull away from him when the storm seizes, the light patter of rain all that stays audible. ‘Sorry I woke you,’
Peter shakes his head, offering you half a smile. ‘I wasn’t asleep anyways.’ You look at him incredulously and he shrugs only a little bit sheepish. ‘Maybe I was, but this is more fun anyways.’
‘You’re such a weirdo,’
‘Shut up, you love me.’ He rolls his eyes and yes you do, but he has no idea how much. You swallow thickly, suddenly self cautious and annoyingly aware of your feelings for him. ‘What?’
His eyebrows are furrowed, eyes filled with worry and- ‘Nothing,’ You croak, pulling the sleeves of your- his - sweater over your hands. Nothing, I’m just head-over-heels in love with you .
‘Y/N,’ He takes your hand, letting his other rest on your knees. ‘The whole point of having a best friend is to tell them things.’
‘Everyone has secrets,’ You fiddle with his fingers and he begins to object but stops himself and you nod your head towards him. ‘See?’
He bites the inside of your cheek, swiping his thumb against the inside of your pointer finger. ‘I’ll make you a deal,’ You note the sudden nervousness in his tone and feel your own heart speed again. ‘We’ll swap secrets.’
You raise your eyebrows, pursing your lips. ‘Seriously?’
He nods earnestly. ‘Seriously. Count of three?’
You chew on your lip, eyeing him for a moment before agreeing reluctantly. He grins brightly and you can’t help but smile a little in return.
‘One…’
What are you doing? This is a horrible idea.
‘Two…’
You’re about to ruin the best friendship that you have. Stop.
‘Three…’
???!!!
‘I’m in love with you!’ You blurt out while he stutters-
‘I’m Spider-Man!’
You shove him away as the words sink in, practically falling off the couch in your hurry to get up because what the actual hell -
You stumble over yourself until the backs of your knees hit the coffee table and ignore his wide eyes and gaping mouth. ‘You’re in lo-’
‘ No, ’ You snap, wagging your finger in front of your face and pressing your other hand against your heart. ‘No, no, no. Me first-’ You bring your hands to either side of your face, pressing until your cheeks puff out before pointing an accusatory finger at him again. ‘ You’re Spider-Man?!’
‘That’s not fair,’ His voice raises at least three octaves as he leans towards you. ‘You just said you’re-’
‘ You are Spider-Man?’
‘ Yes , we’ve established this,’ He shakes his head.
‘We have not!’ You stomp towards him again, shoving your finger against his chest. ‘You’re swinging around Queens every day, you could be killed -’ Your words cut out suddenly, like they’re being shoved back down your throat because all at once Peter’s standing up, pushing you back until you hit the wall and his hands are on your waist and-
You’d always imagined Peter tasted like the ocean and oranges and cinnamon- in reality it’s a flavour that can’t be described in one word, so you don’t bother trying.
A squeak escapes your mouth as Peter’s presses against it, hands traveling to your hair and you hesitate for barely a moment before you kiss him back, hands gripping the back of his shirt and pulling in a desperate attempt to get closer closer closer .
You break away with a gasp after dragging out each second you could and Peter’s eyes are sparkling with too many emotions to place. A startled, ‘Oh,’ falls from your lips and he laughs, breathlessly before pressing kissing you again, this time short and sweet.
‘I want to change my secret,’ He whispers against your lips, your noses brush and all you can hear is your heart thundering in your ears and all you can feel are his hands on your face and all you can see is Peter Parker, staring at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world.
‘No take backs.’