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another late night. peter swings from web to web, taking in the cold air of new york as the breeze chills his skin right through his spider-man suit. it had been a long, exhausting day. but the fatigue dissipates at the thought of coming home to you. buildings fly by, blending into a blurry landscape of scattered bright flecks among the dark horizon.
eventually, his bedroom window comes into view, left open just a crack for him. peter flexes his wrist, shooting a web to catapult himself through the frame with practiced ease. on the nightstand, the digital clock blinks to midnight. he’s made it. it’s august 10th.
he slides the window shut, muting the cool winds of queens. instantly, the room wraps him in a quiet tranquility only associated with you. his gaze softens as it lands on the bed. you’re carelessly sprawled under the covers, completely buried in one of his oversized midtown high hoodies. no matter how many times he comes home to find you in his room—your room, since you've moved in—his heart does a quiet, happy flip.
he plops his bag on the floor, and the soft thud catches your attention.
"peter?" the way you sleepily coo his name falls from your tongue like a spell. a sudden timid warmth creeps up peter's neck. he feels like a criminal being caught red handed, rather than a boy coming home to his person. he carefully treads to the side of the bed, dropping to his knees to be closer to you.
"uh-huh?" he hums, his voice barely above a whisper.
your arm lazily emerges from out of the plush covers and tugs weakly at his synthetic suit. "'wanna see your face." you mumble and squint your eyes at him with a pout of disapproval due to seeing spider-man, rather than peter parker.
peter gladly obliges, slipping off his mask in one swift motion, his brown curls tossed free. the familiar article is left strewn across the floor, waiting to be tidied up later, because all that matters now is the careless, lazy smile tugging at your lips. finally, eye to eye.
"happy birthday, peter." the words spill from your lips as gentle as can be. in the same instant, your fingers card through his hair, gaining purchase on his brown curls to draw his face closer to yours. assuming you're leaning in to kiss him, peter expectantly closes his eyes and parts his lips—but all he's met with is a quiet giggle, warm against his cheek.
oh. embarrassing.
you clear your throat to stifle your laughter. "pfft, sorry petey. that—that's just too cute." peter furrows his brows, though a flush paints his cheeks. he isn't annoyed—far from it. whenever you get giggly because he's done something you find endearing that he finds embarrassing, it completely undoes him. he loves the way you look at him whenever he nerds out, laughing under your breath only after he's finished talking.
"uh-huh," he grumbles, letting his forehead face-plant directly into the soft mattress in front of you. with how delirious he is from exhaustion, he could honestly fall asleep like this—on the floor.
but then, you press a soft, lingering kiss to the crown of his head. the gentle touch snaps him out of his faux moping. peter flicks his head up, brown eyes wide and staring into yours.
"now you kiss me?" he pouts, brows furrowed in a childlike manner.
your smile widens. "yup. for motivation, so you can change n' get in bed with me."
get in bed with you. that's certainly motivating.
peter is struck with a newfound sense of urgency. trying to be as quick as possible, though stumbling through his fatigue, he scrambles to the dresser. he shuffles through the drawers, snagging a random pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, which sports a graphic from your favorite film. as he wrestles to get his suit off, he catches you watching him with that frustratingly fond look of yours. it makes his hands clumsy. the shirt gets momentarily stuck on his head, and his foot tangles in the leg of his sweatpants. he wants to blame it on his fried brain, because it's too embarrassing to admit that is the sort of effect you have on him.
finally dressed in soft cotton, peter walks back over and stands by the edge of the mattress. a spark of mischief shines in his eyes, causing an expression of mock suspicion to cross your face.
"don't you dare," you scold gently. "i mean it, peter."
you don’t mean it at all. he can tell by the way the corners of your mouth curve up, and by the fact that you’re already lifting the heavy comforter, inviting him in.
and so, accepting the invitation, peter flops directly on top of you. he sinks into your space, his weight and muscle serving as a weighted blanket. though really, it's a massive weight that might crush your bones—but the first option is far more romantic.
a soft huff of air leaves your lungs at the impact. "shithead…" you murmur, "told you not to… heavy as hell…" the rest of what you say becomes indiscernible to peter, your dramatics cut off by the peppering of lazy kisses on his face.
as you pull the blankets securely over the both of you, your arms snake around his back, sliding under his shirt to rest against the warm skin of his waist. peter melts. he's always loved your unspoken honesty—the way your body language gives away what you're thinking when you feign annoyance. peter embraces you tighter.
but with his head nuzzled safely in the crook of your neck, a realization dawns upon him.
"were you waiting for me?" peter asks softly, his warm breath fanning against your neck.
all he gets is a withdrawn grumble against his hair.
you were waiting for him. probably just to be the first person to wish him a happy birthday. the thought brings upon a sudden, overwhelming wave of affection. peter considers himself lucky that you cant see the pink heating his face. ultimately, he decides against teasing you, and instead plants a kiss on your neck, burying his burning face even deeper in its curve. god, he loves you.
"you totally were." he whispers into your skin. the comment isn't a vaunt, but rather a quiet reassurance for his own heart.
and despite your coy behavior from before, you let out a susurrated, "mhm."
peter closes his eyes, his breathing falling in line with the gentle, steady rhythm of yours. he was finally home. and when he woke up, you'd make him fall in love all over again.
surely with you, next year's birthday will be just as perfect.