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Peter didn't knock.
He never did.
Your bedroom window creaked open before you could even look up from your book.
"You know," you said, putting your book down on your bed and rolling over to look at him, "most people use doors."
Peter swung one leg over the windowsill before the other, landing on your bedroom floor with practiced ease.
"Most people aren't avoiding Mrs. Alvarez downstairs."
You chuckled. "She likes you."
"She likes Spider-Man," he said, pulling his mask off and running a hand through his messy hair. "Peter Parker still owes her twelve dollars."
You rolled your eyes. This guy never had any money.
He's lucky he's cute.
"Well, Peter, maybe it's about time you paid her the twelve dollars back."
He stared at you in disbelief, brows raised in genuine offense, like he couldn't believe you insinuated he had twelve dollars to spare.
"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that. Now, where are my spare clothes?" he asked, walking around your room and opening drawers like he was the one that owned them.
"They're dirty, Peter."
You looked at him.
"You know, from the last time you were here? Which was less than twenty-four hours ago?"
But he didn't care. He went into your closet, pulled out a pair of your sweatpants and a shirt, and started taking his costume off.
Your eyes lingered for a second too long, following the way the suit peeled away from his shoulders and down his torso, muscles shifting underneath his skin as he tugged the fabric off. Heat rushed to your face, and you whipped around so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash.
"A warning next time?!"
You felt the mattress dip and turned around again, this time to a fully clothed Peter.
"Oops."
Peter flopped down beside you like he owned the place, stealing half your blanket in the process. You shot him an unimpressed look, earning nothing but an unapologetic grin as he reached for the remote before you could. Within seconds he had made himself comfortable, one leg thrown over yours as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
This is how most of your evenings went by. It was cozy. It was nice. It was comfortable. There was no other way you'd rather spend it, which was starting to worry you a bit. You liked it a bit too much. But you weren't going to worry about that, that wasn't a path you were going to take. Everything was perfect the way it was, and you were not going to ruin that.
This was Peter after all. The same Peter who stole your food any chance he got. The same Peter who kept leaving his socks laying around your place. You couldn't have these thoughts about Peter. You wouldn't.
----
You were asleep. It was 4 AM after all. A perfectly normal time to sleep, unless you were Spider-Man.
You got startled awake by a loud bang on your window, which believe it or not, you did lock at night. You shot up from your bed, disoriented, and walked towards your window. It was Peter. Of course.
You unlocked your window, opening it when Peter fell inside. Suddenly you were wide awake, filled with worry. He was wounded. Bad.
You quickly closed your window again, and rushed to his side.
"Peter? Peter what happened?"
He groaned.
"Sorry..." he mumbled, voice strained. "'M getting blood on your carpet."
He tried to laugh, but the sound barely made it past his lips before it dissolved into a rough cough, his shoulders tensing from the effort.
"Peter, fuck the carpet. Are you okay? Stay here I'm getting my first aid kit. And take your suit off."
When you came back with the kit, you saw he had only taken his mask off. God he looked rough, blood dripping from various places on his face. You'd seen him beaten up before, but never this bad. Your heart hurt for him
Peter tried to push himself up.
His arms shook almost immediately, and his face twisted in pain before he could hide it.
"Peter."
"I'm fine."
You stared at him.
He gave you a weak smile.
"You're terrible at lying."
"Yeah, I've heard that one before."
You sighed, moving closer, dropping the first aid kit for a moment and slipping an arm around him before he could argue. He leaned into you more than he probably meant to, and you tried not to think about how much he trusted you. How natural it felt to hold him.
He was Spider-Man to everyone else.
To you, he was just Peter.
"Careful," you whispered.
You helped him sit on your chair, grabbing the hem of his suit.
"You're taking this off."
Peter looked at you, a flash of something in his eyes which you couldn't read.
"That sounded threatening."
"Good."
A small smile tugged at his lips.
Your fingers hooked beneath the torn fabric, carefully peeling it away from his shoulders. Every inch was slow, every movement deliberate, afraid that one careless tug would reopen a wound. Every now and then he sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth, muscles tightening beneath your hands before relaxing again, and every time he hissed, your stomach tightened.
It tightened with worry, knowing the danger he continuously put himself in, but also with something else. Something that got spurred on the more skin got revealed. Something that got spurred on every time he groaned. You shook it off.
When you finally got the suit all the way off, you grabbed the first aid kit and started cleaning his wounds, ignoring how his moans and groans made you feel, focusing on taking care of him.
His head dipped forward every few seconds, eyelids growing heavier until they almost closed completely before he forced them back open again. It looked like staying awake took more effort than fighting whatever had done this to him.
"Okay now turn around, I gotta get your back too."
For once, he didn't argue. He pushed himself to his feet with a quiet grunt, one hand gripping the back of the chair for support before lowering himself onto it backwards, resting his forearms across the backrest while you moved behind him. You gasped. There was a nasty slash across his back, which definitely required some stitches.
"Oh Peter..."
"You should see the other guy."
"Peter! This is no laughing matter!" you exclaim, though he did amuse you a little bit.
"Sorry Y/N, my deepest sincerest apologies."
You chuckled. He chuckled too.
Your eyes zeroed in on his wound again.
"Prepare yourself, this is going to sting."
You started stitching him up, which became harder and harder as it went on.
He was a whimpering, groaning mess, every sharp inhale and quiet sound making your hands hesitate for just a fraction of a second before forcing yourself to keep stitching. You clenched your jaw, willing yourself to focus on the wound instead of the way every noise seemed to settle somewhere deep in your stomach.
Your breathing gradually grew heavier. You didn't notice, but Peter certainly did.
His brow furrowed for a moment, thinking the sight of his injuries had finally gotten to you. Then his expression shifted, eyes widening ever so slightly as realization settled in. He could sense your arousal, which woke his up as well. His underwear started tightening up. It didn't help that that was the only article of clothing he was wearing.
You continued stitching him up, oblivious to the fact that you were in the same boat. The noises he was making stopped being about the discomfort, but you didn't know that. You didn't realize your hands were setting his skin on fire.
You tied off the final stitch and let out a slow breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding.
"There, all done."
Peter didn't move. He looked even more tense than he did when he initially collapsed into your room.
"Peter? Are you okay? You want me to get you some clothes?" you asked as you put your hand on his shoulder. That made him jump up, turning to face you for a second before remembering his predicament. He immediately whipped around, turning his back to you again.
"Uh y- yeah can you go get me something to wear please. And can you maybe get me something to eat too?" he stuttered out.
His skittish behavior confused you, but then again, he was never really normal. And he'd had a rough night.
"Of course, I'll be right back."
Once you left the room, Peter's hand immediately went down to his groin. He let out a moan he'd been holding in. He tried to readjust himself, but there was no hiding it.
"What the fuck am I going to do?" he whispered to himself. He had to get rid of the problem before you returned. But no matter how hard he willed his boner to go down, it didn't budge. Which left him with two options. He could face you with a hard on, which could turn awkward really quick. Or, he could rub one out real quick.
He really didn't want to face you with a boner.
So he picked the obvious choice. He knew he could be quick. He always finished quickly when thinking about you, and now that he knew you reciprocated some kind of attraction it would only be easier for him.
He sat down on the chair again, ears focused on any sign of you coming back. He slid his hand in his briefs, grabbing his dick. One stroke in and he was already feeling pure bliss.
After a couple of strokes, he picked up the pace. He didn't have the time to drag it out. He furrowed his brows, soft noises of pleasure leaving his mouth as he chased his release. He completely lost himself in his pleasure, fisting his dick like there was no tomorrow.
He was reminiscing about what happened just moments ago, how he could sense your arousal, how your breath hitched in your throat. He imagined what it would be like to finally be with you, hold you, fuck you. He wanted to fuck you senseless, fuck your snarky attitude away and watch you lose control.
His head was cloudy with arousal, which is why he didn't hear your footsteps approaching until it was too late.
You opened the door to your room, clothes in one hand and a bowl of instant ramen in your other.
You froze. Peter froze. Time froze.
The sight before you left you speechless. It was the last thing you had expected to walk into, but you didn't mind it one bit.
You dropped what you were holding, which resulted in a broken bowl, a floor covered in ramen, and boiling hot water splashing over you.
"FUCK!" you exclaimed in pain. Why did you have to do that?
Peter shot up instantly, chair scraping against the floor.
"Y/N!"
The panic in his voice snapped you out of your shock.
Before you could even look down properly, he was already there, grabbing the towel from your desk and pushing the broken bowl away from your feet.
"Don't move."
"I'm fine-"
"You're not fine, you just got boiling water spilled on you."
His voice was firm, but his hands were gentle as he carefully grabbed your wrist and looked over your skin, checking for any serious burns. Hands that were touching something else just seconds ago.
"Peter, seriously, I'm okay."
"No, you need to rinse that with lukewarm water now."
"I'm fine, really."
"Please don't be stubborn."
You opened your mouth to argue, but stopped when you saw his expression.
He looked like a wounded little puppy. It pulled at your heartstrings.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly.
You frowned. "For what?"
His eyes flickered away for a second.
"For... all of that."
The tips of his ears turned red.
"I didn't mean for you to see that. I didn't mean to make things weird. I just-"
"Peter."
He stopped.
"You don't have to apologize."
"But I do."
"No, you don't."
He looked at you like he wanted to argue, but then he glanced back at the mess on the floor and sighed.
"Okay. Fine. But I am sorry about the ramen."
"Which you're going to clean up by the way."
And he did. Still in just his underwear, which you were now painfully aware of.
Your eyes flickered down for just a second, and noticed he hadn't gone completely soft yet. This was driving you crazy. You needed a second to breathe.
So you went to the bathroom, and told Peter it was to rinse your arms.
It was okay. It was all going to be okay. He didn't mean for you to see it. You can pretend it didn't affect you. You weren't going to think about it.
You composed yourself, and went back to your room, just to see that he had left. The mess had been taken care of, his Spider-Man suit was gone, and the window was open.
You closed your window again, and tried to go back to bed. But you couldn't sleep. The scene from earlier kept replaying in your mind, over and over and over again.
Before you knew it, you were touching yourself, fantasizing about the two of you together. And little did you know he was doing the same exact thing.
----
You hadn't heard from Peter in days.
At first, you figured he just needed some time.
The whole situation had been... mortifying.
For both of you.
Every time you thought about it, you could still feel the heat rushing to your face, remembering the way both of you had frozen, neither of you knowing what to say or where to look. It had been awkward and embarrassing and completely ridiculous.
You'd texted him anyway.
'You alive?'
Nothing.
You stared at the message for longer than you wanted to admit, watching the little screen stay painfully unchanged before eventually tossing your phone aside.
A few hours later, you tried again.
'If you're avoiding me, you're a coward.'
Still nothing.
By the fifth day, annoyance had started creeping in.
Alongside some concern.
You wanted to yell at him for disappearing without a word.
You wanted to make sure he wasn't lying unconscious in some alley somewhere.
Knowing Peter, both were equally possible.
Every evening, your eyes drifted to your bedroom window without thinking.
You'd look up whenever you heard a noise outside, half expecting to see him sitting there with that stupid smile on his face, ready with some excuse about why he had disappeared.
But the window stayed closed.
No tapping on the glass. No sarcastic comments. No Peter rummaging through your drawers for "his" clothes.
Just silence.
You hated it.
So you decided to get a little drunk.
You stumbled into your home, kicking your shoes off somewhere near the entrance before making your way upstairs. Somehow, despite your blurry vision and the way the hallway seemed to move slightly around you, you managed not to trip.
You opened your bedroom door, and for a brief second your heart lifted, stupidly hoping that maybe he would be there.
But the room was empty.
You sighed, closed the door and dropped yourself on your bed.
God, you were wasted.
So you decided to call him. And surprisingly, he picked up.
"Peter? What the hell Peter where have you been." you slurred your words, emotions heightened because of the alcohol in your system.
"I'm sorry Y/N... Are you okay?"
"NO!" you exclaimed, rolling onto your back and staring up at the ceiling. "You've completely abandoned me, Peter. How could I be o- okay? You suck."
You heard him let out a quiet sigh, but there was no annoyance in it. Just worry.
"Y/N are you drunk? Are you at home?"
"What does it matter?" you mumbled. "You don't care about me."
"That's not true."
"I thought you were dead, Peter." Your voice became quieter. "And then I find out you're alive and you're just ignoring me because you suck."
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "But please tell me you're safe at home right now."
You frowned slightly.
"Why don't you come check."
"Y/N..." After a brief pause you could hear him sigh on the other end of the phone.
"Why? Are you not my friend anymore? Why can't you come see me?"
"You're drunk, we should be having this conversation when you're sober."
"No Peter, I want to talk about it now."
"Y/N, I can't, it feels wrong."
"Talk to me. Please. Why are you avoiding me."
"I've been so embarrassed."
"That can't be all. You're not just avoiding me because you're embarrassed. Tell me the real reason."
A pause. You could feel his hesitation through the phone.
"Because I can't stop thinking about fucking you." he confessed.
Your breath hitched in your throat. Did you just hear that correctly? It felt like your body sobered up in a second.
"...so then come over and fuck me."
Did you really just say that?
You heard him clear his throat on the other end of the line, with some muffled background noise.
"You are drunk. I'm not going to take advantage of you."
"Peter I've been touching myself to you every night since I saw you like that in my room."
"...fuck Y/N you can't just say that." he groaned, some more ruffling going on in the background.
"Are you touching yourself?"
He went quiet.
"Are you?"
"Maybe. I'm sorry." he admitted.
"Peter I need you to come over."
"Y/N please, just wait for me one more day. I can't when you've been drinking."
You sighed. Damn you, alcohol.
"Promise me you'll come tomorrow."
"I promise."
"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow then."
"See you tomorrow."
----
You had been waiting all day, yet there was still no sign of peter. Not even a text message. You knew he was just late, but something inside of you still nagged at you.
Peter was always late.
It wasn't new.
Late to movies. Late to picnics. Late to basically every plan you had ever made with him.
But did he really have to be this late today? After everything?
You knew he would come though. He promised. And Peter Parker didn't break promises.
At least, he didn't break promises to you.
You looked at your phone again.
Nothing.
Maybe he changed his mind?
Maybe he woke up this morning and regretted everything. Maybe he realized what he had said, what you had said, and decided that pretending nothing happened was easier.
Which was stupid. It was a stupid thought that you knew couldn't be right.
Because Peter was many things.
A mess? Absolutely.
A terrible liar? Definitely.
A guy who couldn't keep his fucking socks off your floor? Unfortunately.
But cruel?
Never.
More moments passed when a soft creak suddenly cut through the room.
Your entire body froze.
The window slid open slowly. He stepped inside and took his mask off.
There he was.
Peter.
Except he didn't look like the Peter who usually climbed through your window with a stupid joke ready and a snack in his hand.
He looked nervous.
"You're late," you said, unable to stop yourself from letting the frustration slip into your voice.
Peter's expression tightened slightly, like he knew he deserved that.
"Yeah. I know."
"Like, really late."
"I know."
"Peter."
"I know," he repeated, quieter this time.
The fact that he didn't try to defend himself made some of your anger disappear. Normally, Peter would have immediately started rambling, explaining every little detail and somehow making the whole situation even more confusing than it already was.
Instead, he just looked down, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
"I wasn't avoiding you."
You swallowed.
"That's what you did last time."
"I know," he sighed, "I was trying to figure out how to do this right," he admitted quietly.
You frowned.
"Do what right?"
Peter looked up at you then, and for once, Peter Parker looked completely lost.
"I don't know," he admitted quietly. "Everything."
The room fell quiet.
"I don't want to mess this up."
Your expression softened.
"Peter..."
"No, I mean it." He stepped closer, careful, like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to. "You're the one person I don't want to lose."
The way he said that was a problem.
Because he said it like losing you was a possibility.
"You idiot," you whispered.
A small, confused smile tugged at his lips.
"That's usually not a good sign."
"It isn't."
He looked nervous again.
"You disappeared for days because you were scared."
"Yeah."
"And now you're late because you were scared."
"...yeah."
You sighed.
"Peter Parker, you are so dumb."
A real smile appeared this time.
"That sounds about right."
You looked at him for a moment. Really looked at him. Took in every detail, his cute face, disheveled hair. How toned he looked in his suit...
"Come here," you said.
His face perked up, a flicker of hope and disbelief crossing his face because he had spent days convincing himself that maybe he had ruined everything.
Then he stepped forward.
And you kissed him.
His hands immediately found your face, holding it like he was scared you were going to slip away. Your hands held onto his forearms, slowly sliding up to his biceps. Wow. He was so jacked.
His tongue pushed past your lips, exploring every single inch of your mouth. He kissed like he had been starved for the past couple of centuries, and you did not mind it even the tiniest bit.
Your hands moved from his arms to his neck, trying to pull him even closer. His hands slowly trailed down from your face to your waist, pulling your hips into his. He pressed his dick against you, letting you feel just how hard he was for you. You couldn't help but moan.
You needed him. Now.
And he understood.
He started moving you to your bed, briefly breaking the kiss, pushing you down on it and climbing on top of you. His lips quickly found yours again, desperate, as he was grinding his body into yours. Your body felt like it was about to explode.
You grabbed any body part of his your hands could find, shoulder, back, butt. You were barely in control of what you were doing, and that's exactly how he wanted you.
He started leaving a trail of kisses, going from your lips, to your jaw, down to your neck. You were getting too hot. Clothes had to be shed, immediately.
It's like he could read your mind, because the next moment he was taking off your shirt. He groaned when he saw you weren't wearing a bra.
"Are you trying to kill me?"
But before you could reply, his mouth latched onto your nipple. He started kissing, licking, sucking, biting. His hand slowly trailed down your stomach, moving down until he stopped at the waistband of your sweats. He hooked his fingers under the waistband, looking up at your face to see if he could find any doubt on there. When he didn't find any, he pulled your sweatpants down to your ankles with one swift movement.
You quickly kicked the sweats all the way off, now only wearing your panties.
His hand moved back up, as he started rubbing your pussy through your damp panties.
You had never felt this good before in your life. You felt like you were on another planet and all he had done was rub his hand against your vagina. Lewd noises were coming out of your mouth, noises you couldn't even recognize.
He moved his mouth away from your breasts, moving his head back to look at you. He wore an almost pained expression, so turned on by how you were reacting to him.
His hand moved away for a second, and you immediately whined at the loss. He chuckled.
"Be patient."
God, you had never been this turned on before.
His hand found you again, this time going underneath your panties. He wanted to tease you for a bit, but he was too eager to please you, to be inside of you.
He slipped a finger inside you, quickly adding a second one once he felt how wet and ready you were.
"You're so wet for me..." he groaned, pumping his fingers inside of you. He was watching your face intensely, loving how you looked completely out of control. He wasn't used to you being like this, you normally have the upper hand.
You really were a mess. Panting, moaning, shaking, speaking incomprehensibly.
"P- Please... mmm Peter- Please."
"I told you to be patient."
His hand left you again, this time to pull your panties to the side. He lowered his face to your pussy, staring at your face as he carefully licked your slit. Your face told him everything he needed to know. He started eating you out like it was his favorite past time, not giving you a single moment to catch your breath. He brought his hand up to your pussy again, finger-fucking you as he sucked on your clit.
"Ah! Peter-"
You felt a familiar pressure build up in your abdomen. It was approaching quickly, which he could tell.
"Come for me Y/N." he groaned.
And you did. It felt like it lasted for minutes, the feeling completely taking over your body.
But before you had any time to come down from your high, something inside of him snapped.
He pulled his fingers out of you, ripping your panties open and throwing them on the floor. He was out of his costume in record time, boxer briefs following suit.
You felt like you were being pulled back to consciousness for a second, seeing him naked in all of his glory. Your eyes trailed from his face, to his muscular upper body, down to his dick. Wow. He was big. And he curved upwards. Could it even get any better?
You swore you saw him blush, his confidence resolving for a split second, before he was pouncing on you again.
He climbed on top of you again, spreading your legs and lining his dick up with your pussy. He looked you in the eyes, like he wanted you to confirm you still wanted this. You grabbed his head, pulled it to yours, and kissed him again. That was enough for him.
He slowly started pushing into you, pulling away from the kiss and watching your face for any sign of discomfort. You could feel his dick stretching you, filling you up in the most delicious way. You wanted more, more, more and more.
You wrapped your legs around him and pulled him in quicker, making him bottom out. You moaned in unison, finally physically connected with the person you had been connected to emotionally forever. You stayed like that for a second, both taking it all in, placing quiet kisses on each other's bodies.
Until he picked up the pace. He started fucking you good, hard, rough, and you saw a side of peter you never had before.
He grabbed your legs, putting them over his shoulders so he could fuck you deeper. He fucked you from an angle that made you cry out, trying to shove your face into your pillow.
He grabbed your face roughly, snapping it back towards him.
"You're going to look at me as I fuck you. Is that clear?"
You moaned in response, not being able to get any words out. But that's not what he wanted.
He fucked you with slow but hard thrusts, hitting the spot with every single thrust.
"Use your words Y/N, or did you forget how to speak?"
"Yes Peter- Ah- I understand!" you were able to exclaim, as he fucked your brains out of you.
You kept your eyes on him as he kept fucking you like this, which felt like an impossible task as the pleasure was overwhelming you, when he suddenly flipped you around with one swift movement.
He put you on all fours, quickly finding his way inside of you again and fucking you into the mattress.
He grabbed your hips, pulling you back into his thrusts with such power you felt like you were going to be split into two.
You couldn't hold yourself up with your arms anymore, collapsing down onto your chest. He grabbed your head with one hand, other one still pulling your hips back, and pushed it into the pillow as he picked up the pace.
The noises you were making were inhumane. If you weren't so fucked out, you would probably be embarrassed.
The sound of your bodies slapping together combined with the noises you were both making was vulgar, the room filled with the noise of sex, and you both loved it.
His hand stopped applying pressure to your head, allowing you to move your head sideways to breathe. He pet your hair for a second, quickly scanning your face, a sweet gesture that made your heart melt even though you were being fucked within an inch of your life.
"Yeah? You like this? Have you ever been fucked like this before?"
"A- Ah- Never!" tears started welling up in your eyes, as you cried out in pleasure.
"Who does your pussy belong to now?" he asked, combining his question with a particular hard thrust.
"You! To you!"
"Such a good girl for me."
You could feel your second orgasm coming close, pussy starting to clench around his dick as it approached. He could tell you were getting there again, flipping you around once more so he could look in your face as you came.
He fucked you like there was no tomorrow, hitting that sweet spot inside of you with every thrust like he had already known your body beforehand. It's like you were made for each other.
As your orgasm approached, his climax approached as well. You could tell by a slight stutter in his hips, the way he started moaning, the furrow in his brows. It was enough to push you over the edge.
As you started coming undone, he kissed you, and it made you feel all fuzzy inside. Your orgasm was so intense you felt like you blacked out for a minute. Once you returned from cloud nine, you could feel him coming too, releasing his sperm inside of you. Every time you felt like you couldn't feel any better, he found a way to prove you wrong.
He laid there on top of you for a second, kissing every square inch of your face. He was glowing. You had never seen him this happy before.
When the time came to pull out, he did so slowly, watching his sperm leak out of you. It made him feel a sense of pride.
He laid down next to you, pulling your head on his chest. You could hear his heart racing. It made yours flutter.
"Was that okay? Was I too rough? I'm sorry if it wa-" you cut him off and looked at him.
"Peter that was perfect. It was the best sex of my life."
You could see his face flushing a little, the Peter you knew coming back to the surface.
"It was for me too. But not just because of the physical aspect..."
"Do you mean because I'm so amazing and lovely?"
He was quiet for a bit, the pace of his heart picking up again.
"I mean... uh.. sex is just better when you love the person." he blurted out, hesitancy clear on his face.
Your heart felt like it was about to explode. Oh he was just so fucking cute.
"Are you trying to tell me that you love me, Peter Parker?"
"...maybe."
"Then tell me."
He looked at you, face lighting up when he saw the joyful look on your face.
"I love you Y/N."
The words were quiet, almost like he was afraid they would disappear if he said them too loudly.
You smiled, feeling something warm settle in your chest.
"I love you too, Peter Parker."
You stared at him for a moment, still trying to process the fact that Peter Parker, the same idiot who climbed through your window without knocking and stole your leftovers every chance he got, had just confessed his love to you.
"You know you still owe Mrs. Alvarez twelve dollars, right?"
Peter blinked.
"That’s your takeaway?"
"Yes."
"After everything that just happened?"
"Especially after everything that just happened."
He laughed, shaking his head, pulling you closer.
"You’re unbelievable."
"You love me."
A smile tugged at his lips.
"Yeah," he whispered. "I really do."
You smiled back, because after everything, Peter Parker was still Peter Parker.
And you wouldn’t have him any other way.