𝘛𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘞𝘦𝘣𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦

11. All To Myself

After Peter had breakfast with them, he had to go, saying he had college work to finish and errands to run.

He didn't actually want to leave but Peter also didn't want to overstay his welcome, not knowing that staying was exactly what the Avengers wanted him to do.

Breakfast was an... interesting ordeal. Everyone kept trying to feed him. Just when Peter thought he was finished since his plate was empty, pieces of fruit, a new waffle or pancake would suddenly appear. The smell was tempting and the taste was delicious; Sam and Scott were both amazing cooks so of course Peter couldn't resist another helping.

Peter likes food and his stomach is practically bottomless anyway, so he ate it all up happily, oblivious to the sets of eyes that lingered on his lips, especially his pink tongue whenever it darted out to lick and lap at the remaining syrup that stuck to his fingers.

The men inwardly swore.

Peter left in a rush- much to the Avengers' dismay. He needed to finish and print out his dissertation for Monday. His professor was very old school and couldn't work technology to save his life, much preferring all work to be kept in physical form. Of course there were still virtual backups, not that he ever used them or even knew how, for that matter.

After completing everything on his list, Peter had extra time to spare and is at loss for what to do. He's in his dorm room, laid out languidly on his bed with his shirt off, and it's times like this he really appreciates not having a roommate. How the whole situation happened was by chance- his roommate suddenly left after a week of moving in, completely disappeared with no notice, not even a goodbye. No one ever took his place, so Peter had the room to himself.

Pondering a little, it was quite strange, Peter realised. The guy was quiet and kept to himself. He didn't do much, and when they spoke to each other it was only small talk. Peter felt bad that he couldn't properly remember his name. Something beginning with a K? Or was it M?

Whenever Peter woke up in the dead of the night, the guy was on his laptop, tapping away on the keyboard at an impressive speed. His face was stone cold, expressionless like it always was, the glow of the computer screen lighting up the pitch black pupils of his eyes.

He remembered the first time it happened.

Peter yawned, eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. In the corner of the room, he saw his roommate wide awake. Was he up doing work?

"Hm?" In his blurry haze, Peter frowned. "Aren't you... aren't you g'nna go to sleep? What time even is it?"

The fingers that were darting quickly across the keyboard stilled, and the guy turned his head slightly to look at Peter.

"...don't worry about me." he said quietly. The webslinger could've sworn that his eyebrows furrowed for a split second, as though he was thinking about something. It was the only emotion his roommate had ever shown, and Peter doesn't know if he had imagined it in his sleepy state. "Go back to sleep, Peter."

After getting a reply, Peter hummed, obeying him. Even though something, there was something tugging at the back of his mind, he was unable to stop the pure fatigue that drowned him as his eyelids fell shut, and he slept undisturbed until morning.

Peter suddenly felt a chill all over his body. The guy hadn't done anything strange, so why was he unsettled? Like he's missing something...

Rolling onto his stomach, he goes into a group chat and presses the video call button. The phone rings for a while, until Ned and MJ's faces pop up on the screen.

Ned seems to be in his dorm room as well, propped up on his elbow on his bed and MJ is seated in a quiet café somewhere, a sketching book in her hand.