Chapter Text
Soulmates were rare. Exceptionally rare. They were the stuff that popped up in magazines in the checkout line. Or in the newest romance movie. Not something you saw in real life. Nobody really paid them any mind. Most people just dated as normal, and some couples even got fake soulmate tattoos when they got married. Granted, their words probably sounded more romantic than the average real soul mark was. Not that anyone could really tell the difference between a soul mark and a tattoo. The only real indicator was the words themselves. You could usually tell because nobody's first words to someone were ever, “You are even more attractive than I Imagined.” that would be ridiculous. Right?
All the romance books and movies that Peter watched made it seem like getting a soul mark was something that made the world stop. Something that you could feel in your very heart. Like fireworks igniting in your bloodstream and some equally creative metaphors. It wasn’t something that could just happen without you knowing, right? You couldn’t just go weeks without noticing its appearance. A whole tattoo on your body going unnoticed for weeks was ridiculous.
The soul marks in the movies always appeared on people's arms or in some obviously noticeable places. Not a fucking tramp stamp, right?
Right? That was all Peter could think as he inspected his new soul mark in the bathroom of the Daily Bugle. He hadn’t even been the one to notice it. His boss did. How fucking humiliating was that?
He had been bending over to refill the printer with more paper when Jameson cleared his throat and said.
“Wear a longer shirt next time you come in. That tramp stamp isn’t doing the Bugle’s reputation any favors.”
“Tramp stamp?” Peter stuttered out.
“I know you’ve got your other job,” Jameson cleared his throat again, Waving his hand in some obscure motion, clearly trying to imply something. “But we keep it professional around here.”
Peter went scarlet. “Got it, sir.” he managed to mutter, finishing with the printer and then rushed to lock himself in the single-stall bathroom. He tried to maneuver himself in front of the tiny mirror so he could see what the hell Jameson was talking about.
He learned two things that day.
One, Jameson thought Peter was a sex worker or some equally risque job in his spare time.
And two, Peter had a soulmate. He now had the words “I am so fucking turned on right now.” permanently inked above his ass.
And just his Parker luck, he could not, for the life of him, remember who had said that.