Xara's Guide To Befriending Superheroes (Not Clickbait):-
Rule 1: Call him a serial killer.
Rule 2: Blackmail him.
Rule 3: Be in love with his alter ego.
MCU!Peter Parker story.
Book [1] of the Paracosm series (but can also be read as a stand-alone).
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⋆ twenty-five ⋆
And suddenly he's kissing me.
And before I realise what's happening, I'm kissing him back.
We pull away after just a second, and it's another second before his eyes slowly flicker open, my lips parting in a perfect 'o' of surprise. He shifts, as if guilty of something, but I shake my head slightly. I'm not going to let him say something else about how he didn't mean that, because he might always make the action first, but it's me who gives it finality.
I lean forward, connecting our lips once more.
There's a difference between kissing someone because they are attractive and kissing someone because words can no longer express what you feel for the person. There's a difference between the kind of kiss you read in books and the kind of kiss I'm feeling now, the unexplainable kind that fills my lungs with the sweetest air I've ever known, but still leaving me so breathless.
And I realise that there's so much that I want. I want Peter Parker. I want him in every single version of himself. I want his strength, but I want his weakness. I want his confidence, but I want his shyness. I want his happiness, but I want his anger. I want every single bit of Peter Parker, to know him inside out. And it's a blessing to be worth his time, because he's not someone I deserve.
When we finally pull away, it takes me a second to gather myself, still stuck in a few moments prior. It's only when I blink hard that my surroundings finally sharpen in my sight, and I turn to see Peter Parker just staring at me in surprise.
"...Wow," he whispers, voice barely audible, and a second later my hand finally drops from his cheek. But he moves his from mine before grabbing my hand, and I smile before intertwining our fingers. There's nothing to say.
Until I interrupt the silent, whispering conspiratorially, "It was as the prophecy foretold."
In return he can't help but grin. "Blame the radioactive vegetables."
"Nah, the magical moonbeams are just gonna rat us out."
We both end up laughing before turning back to the stars, our only witnesses to what just took place, our only reminder that it's not just the two of us in the world. A distraction from our grief, from our troubles, because we know the cure will be each other.
"You know," he starts quietly, happily, "there's a constellation I really like. The Spider and the Web. It's like, the Spider represents unknown forces that interact and intervene with Earth when it thinks it should, and the Web is coincidence, or how someone always seems to be watching out for us, how they're shaping us into who we are. Someone out there put us together, made it coincidence that we met, because a lot of people don't find their happiness. I'm glad I found mine."
