escape , peter parker

𝟬𝟵 comfort person

chapter 9 !
comfort person ...

"I'M—I'M SORRY," I choked out, "I didn't know where else to go."

He instantly knew what happened. His eyes flickered from confusion to anger to hate to softness.

"Listen to me, Y/N." Peter says, getting leveled with me. "Never apologize for anything like this, okay?"

I nod, feeling the tightness in my neck as I do.

He reaches toward me and I move back slightly.

"I'm sorry." He says, pulling his hand back.

"No, no. I didn't mean that. I know that you would never—" I say, reaching back out for his hand.

He pulls me inside and shuts and locks the door behind me. "My aunt is out of town for a couple days, you can stay here as long as you need to, okay?"

"Is she going to be mad if she finds out?" I ask nervously.

"No." Peter reassures me. "She would be more than happy to have you here anytime you need help—or ever."

"Okay." I let my guard down slightly, allowing myself to be somewhat comfortable with Peter.

"Do you want to sleep on the couch or on the bed? The couch extends into a bed, but I have to admit it's not the comfiest so I can take the couch."

"No." I respond firmly. "It's your place. I'll sleep on the couch."

He agrees with so much ease as if I was an antique teapot that could crack at any time.

He helps me extend it into a bed and I lay down on it while he grabs a big blanket for me. I take it gratefully and he goes to the kitchen, bringing back soup ten minutes later when he comes back.

"Thank you," I say, sitting up to take the bowl. "You don't have to do all this, though. I'm okay, really."

"It only feels right." He says, looking at me. We stay silent for a moment, neither of us knowing what to say. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Instinctively, I rub my neck. He watches my hand as I do so. "Maybe tomorrow."

He nods, understanding completely. I finish my soup within a few minutes, appreciating how it soothed my sore throat. I set the empty bowl on the coffee table and lay back, pulling the covers up to my chin.

I can still feel his unyielding presence on the couch next to me. I know he's watching me carefully as if anything, even the wrong gust of wind, could kill me right now.

"Peter?" I mumble, my words muffled by the blanket next to my mouth.

"Yes?"

"Could you lay with me...?" I feel selfish asking this, but it feels so right at the same time.

He pauses for a moment. "Oh, um, yeah. Sure."

He stands up and walks over to me. He lifts the blanket up, cold air hitting my back instead of the soft, warm blanket, and crawls underneath it with me. He reaches for a pillow and puts it under his head, facing my back, and places his right arm across my waist. He tries to get comfortable by closing the distance between us.