home. | p.p. x reader | book three.

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Waking up the next morning was like a nightmare and a dream all at the same time. I am by no means a morning person, so any time I have to wake up before 10:00 am is a terrible start to the day. Mix that with a soreness in all of my limbs and a sharp pain in my ribs and you have the perfect cocktail for a morning of not wanting to get out of bed.

I was so dreary when I woke up that I barely noticed Peter was missing, just assuming that he'd gone home to get ready for school. It was almost a shock when I felt a hand rubbing up and down my arm about half an hour after I woke up. The only thing that could pull me out of the sleepy stupor I was in were the soft whispers I had been accustomed to on the days Peter came to wake me up, his hands practically tugging at my arm to get me out of bed.

"Peter, let me sleep, my alarm hasn't even gone off yet."
"Sweetheart, it already went off, I turned it off to let you sleep in a few more minutes."

That was what woke me up. I hated being late to anything, so the threat of even potentially being late was like a living breathing nightmare. I shot out of bed faster than I had ever moved in my life, stumbling around blindly while my eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden burst of morning light. After almost tripping on random pieces of tech and clothing that lay scattered on my bedroom floor, I was able to find a loose shirt and pair of pants laying on the back of my desk chair. Just as I was in the process of pulling on the pants, the sound of my alarm clock rang through the air. Peter's eyes widened in panic as he moved as fast as possible to turn it off.

"Are you kidding me Peter?!"
"I'm sorry! You just never wake up early and I wanted to get you out of bed."
I let out a sigh.
"One of these days I'm going to kill you." I just put my head in my hands, letting out an annoyed sigh as I put down the jacket currently in my right hand.
"Come on, you know you can't stay mad at me forever." Peter wrapped his hands around my waist, pulling me closer to him until our chests were touching. He looked down at me with that 'I can do whatever I want because I know you won't get tired of me' look, absolutely breaking the hard faced exterior I had on. With a small laugh and a smile I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling his head down to meet my lips. We stayed like that for a little longer than we should have, considering we would both be late if we continued. When we pulled apart, I put a hand on his chest and played with the hem of his suit.

"I can't, but I can kick you out of my apartment so you don't make both of us late." He gave me puppy dog eyes that could practically be compared to a pouting toddler who didn't get his way. I just let out another laugh and pushed him towards the window. "I'm serious. I don't want to be late on our last day so I will see you at school."
"But I wanna stayyyy."
"You don't have any clothes, Pete. I'm serious. Go home and get ready, will you?"
"Fine. But I'm getting really tired of only getting to hold you like this behind closed doors." The only response I gave was a sigh and an empathetic face. I took a few steps towards him until I was in arms length, wrapping my arms around his neck again and holding him close.
"I know, but we can't risk it, not when so many people seem to be trying to make their way out of the woodwork now that we brought everyone back."
"I know, I know. It's for the best, I'm sure of that. It just sucks."

I gave him a quick, comforting kiss as if to say 'it sucks for me, too.'
"I know. Now go, seriously, we'll both be late."
This time he finally listened when I told him to leave, flashing me a wide smile as he climbed through the window leading to my fire escape. Slipping his mask over his head and straightening out the neckline of his suit, he sent a wave goodbye my way and shot off.

After letting myself return back to reality for a moment, I set off on my morning routine. After finding a new outfit that wasn't just clothes thrown on my floor from a week before, I decided it would be best to take a shower in order to wash away the sweat from patrol the night before. My cuts and bruises had already faded for the most part, and even the ones that hadn't were nothing more than puckered skin or yellow splotches. The electrical burns were much harder to deal with, as every single movement around them or water running over them sent a burst of pain through my entire arm. After suffering under the hot water just long enough to do everything I needed to, I left the shower and finished getting ready.