Boys like Boys|| Peter Parker

.28.

It was risky. The enitire day had been risky, but Oliver wasn't able to stop himself. 

Spider-man may as well be the first thing making him feel somewhat normal, although Oliver had no idea what Normal meant any more. Spidey had a way of distracting him until he forgot all about his worries. 

The nightmares had turned into dreams, and Oliver wasn't sure which ones were worse. Stupid crush, invading his dreams without his permission. 

But with distraction comes sloppiness. 

Hundreds of eyes on him. It would be hard to distinguish which ones were strangers and which meant harm. Maybe it was his overactive imagination, but then again, the last time he had felt like this was moments before he was attacked by Bucky, a year ago. 

"Fuck" He cursed, giving up on sleep. He threw off his blanket, sitting up on the "bed". It had been months since he last slept peacefully, now he could rarely get a couple hours of sleep, that too plagued by nightmares. 

He buried his face in his hands, drawing his legs closer. 

Oliver took a deep breath. 

Inhale. 

Exhale. 

And then another. 

Inhale.

Exhale. 

And another. And one more. Until he felt the beating of his heart grow steady. 

Then, as if he had been planning for it all along, he jumped up. First the windows, made sure they were locked, then he drew the curtains. 

"Tape, tape, tape, tape" 

He muttered to himself. 

He moved through the apartment with ease for someone standing in darkness. He had the entire layout memorised, as well as where all his stuff was, so there was really no need to  turn on the lights. 

Finally, he got what he was looking for, a roll of duct tape. He jumped over an armchair, right by the windows again. Newspapers were strewn by his feet, he could feel the paper on his bare feet. Oliver bent over, taking multiple sheets of newspaper in hand and starting to carefully tape it to the windows, allowing nothing to be seen through them.

Maybe he was just being paranoid. But better safe than sorry. 

After that, he moved to the door. Tape to the edges, that way he would know if anyone ever came in. 

He turned around, his mind racing with paranoia. But then he turned  to the door again. Making sure it was locked, he moved to the bedroom. 

Knife under the pillow, gun under the mattress. He wasn't content until he had made sure every weapon in the apartment was exactly where he knew it was. 

And even then, something still seemed off. 

He couldn't go back to sleep now, so he just made do with starting with his day as early as 3 in the morning. 

.....

The woman gathered her hair in her hands, slowly and carefully, making sure all her hair was secure. She twisted it all into a bun and made sure it wouldn't unravel. 

Lowering her eye to the scope of her gun, she peered through it. It was set to look through the window of an apartment on the fifth floor. The last time she had looked through it, she hadn't seen much. But now, she spotted a flurry of activity. 

Someone was inside, and they were moving fast. 

She sighed in dissapointment. 

The woman liked to think she trained her better. A year out of the academy and here she was... slipping. This wasn't how she was trained to be... How could she be so stupid? And to think the girl had everything the woman wanted. How does someone undeserving end up with such extraordinary gifts?

There was once a time when the woman felt some sort of pride at being the girl's teacher. Best in her class, not that there was anyone else alive from her class. Not to mention the time she bested young women older than her with more training. 

And here she was, her face shown for a split second in the moonlight. Scared. Then she was gone, the windows covered with newspaper, and probably curtains after that, blocking the inside of the apartment completely from view. 

Madam Petrova took a shaky breath. 

She wouldn't let Alyssa out of her grasp again.