a/n: posting this a little earlier than planned because it's finished and I figured why hold it off from you guys? this has genuinely been one of my favorite series (I know I say that for like every series don't @ me) and I'm glad a lot of you liked it! I have lots of plans for new works and to finish some requests - next is another soulmate au (sorry not sorry) but I have no idea when I can update again. hopefully soon!
also, I have watched endgame a couple days ago but please remember that a lot of people haven't seen it yet. please don't spoil the movie - don't put anything in the comments for the sake of those who can't see it for a while. thanks! hope you guys enjoy the movie and this chapter!
reminder: my requests are closed!
warnings: language, angst, mentions of drinking, death mentions/allusions, blood/slightly graphic? only slightly, ptsd/anxiety, 👀, harry who?
Peter woke up to a bottle of advil and cup of water by his bed, and a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach that wasn't just nausea.
He didn't drink very often, and it usually took a lot for him to get drunk because his powers fought against it. But it was possible, and he proved that only once before when he and Ned were being stupid and wanted to test it out.
Now he did it for the second time, and he really wished he hadn't.
You didn't leave any trace that you were there except for the advil and water, which brought some anxiety to his stomach. He wanted to call and make sure you got home alright, he knew you had been drinking too and the thought of you wandering back alone made him feel even more sick.
But he stumbled out of his room to see one of his blankets draped over the back of the couch and relaxed a little. You must've slept on the couch and left this morning. His chest tightened at that, wondering if you stayed because you didn't want to go home alone and drunk, or maybe...you wanted to make sure he was okay until the morning.
He scrapped that thought quickly, highly doubting it was the latter. You probably hated him, especially after that stupid stunt he pulled last night.
He felt sick again as soon as he remembered. Why was he so stupid?
Instead of dwelling on that he went to his room to grab his phone, knowing that he should at least thank you. The amount of messages you had sent from the last two months made him more annoyed at himself, but it wasn't like he could change it now.
thanks for bringing me home
He bit his lip as he sent it, deciding to type out another text.
i'm sorry
With a sigh he rubbed his chin and grabbed the glass of water, chugging it to try and get the gross taste of alcohol out of his mouth before deciding it would be best to just brush his teeth.
You didn't reply right away, which he had expected. He knew you were a quick replier but that was different now - he had left you on read for months, he would've been stupid to expect you to reply right away, or even at all.
To his surprise his phone dinged and he scrambled to finishing brushing his teeth and grabbed it, sighing in disappointment when he realized it was just a text from MJ.
His annoyed expression turned confused when he saw what she sent, though.
don't be stupid then, loser, just be honest with her. also i'm not your therapist why don't you text ned about this. and drink some water you sound fucked
With a little panic he went to see what he texted her before, realizing he must have messaged her while he was drunk. He was surprised she could even understand half of the things he sent, considering there were a ton of typo's and sentences that made no sense. Except for one.
I really rally like her but Im scared i messed it up
He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, the nauseous feeling coming back. Apparently drunk Peter had a way easier time admitting how he felt than sober Peter. He went back to MJ's text and chuckled a little, shaking his head at her bluntness.
He could always count on her to tell it to him straight without caring if his feelings were hurt.
He was shaking as MJ cleaned up his knuckles, trying to get him to unclench his fist a little. She had been startled when he showed up at her window covered in blood with red rimmed eyes and the mask clenched between his fists, but he was able to say what happened despite how much it hurt, and she decided her first priority was to help him.
Grieving could be pushed until later.
"Why did you come to me?" She asked quietly, staring up at him with slight concern in her eyes.
"I don't want Ned or May to see this," he croaked out, "They'd-they'd be so disappointed."
"But you didn't-"
"No, I didn't kill him, but I wanted to, I-I almost did. I easily could have," Peter bit his lip to stop it from trembling, "MJ, she was just lying there-"
"Don't," MJ said firmly, though Peter could hear a little shake in her voice. She was her best friend, too. "I can't hear that Peter, and you shouldn't dwell on it, it'll just make you feel worse."
He went silent as she continued to clean up his bloodied hands, the sight of them making him angrier. He never hurt anyone with the intent that he did tonight, and he wished he felt more guilty about it.
How could he not feel guilty about hunting down her murderer?
"So...he's gonna live?" She asked after a moment, wrapping the bandages carefully around his hands.
"Yeah. I think he'll be in the hospital a while before jail but...yeah," Peter held his other hand up while she moved to get another bandage.
"You did the right thing," she replied, "I know it doesn't feel like it but...you did. Killing him wouldn't have brought her back."
This is why he chose to come to MJ instead of May or Ned, not only because they were so clear in their expressions that he would know right away if they were disappointed (which they would inevitably be) - he knew MJ would tell it to him straight, even if it hurt to hear.
"Thank you," he replied quietly, shutting his eyes while she finished cleaning his cuts.
She nodded and finished wrapping the bandage, cutting the end with some scissors and taping it on. "Do her parents know?"
Peter swallowed, wishing he could get rid of the looks on her parents faces when he showed up as Spider-Man to deliver the news. "Yeah, they went to the hospital last I knew but...but she was already..."
MJ sniffed a little, quickly wiping her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Peter."
"Yeah...I am too."
"I can't believe she's gone," she said quietly, sitting on her bed next to him. "It doesn't feel real."
"I'm sorry I told you like this," Peter muttered but she quickly shook her head, taking one of his hands in hers.
"I'd rather hear it from you than in the news or a phone call," she sighed, "And I'm glad you came to me for help. We're gonna get through this, Peter. You and me and Ned and all of us."
He squeezed her hand a little, "Yeah...we'll get through it."
He wished he could believe that.
His phone went off again and he snapped out of it, clicking the new text from you.
don't worry about it.
No smiley face, no goofy emojis. His heart hurt a little at that, but he knew he deserved it.
He deserved a lot worse than that.
-
And I...I really missed you
Once you slept and took several pain killers and drank probably a gallon of water, you let yourself wonder why the hell you were letting those words bother you so much.
You didn't really have to wonder why they bothered you, but you did wonder why you were still letting him affect you like this. And you were really wondered why he bothered saying those words to you, and especially why the hell he would kiss you right after.
You weren't a blackout drinker and it was easy to remember how it felt to have Peter kiss you, even if it was just for a few seconds. And it was nice. You hated that, you hated that you still wanted to be with him even though he was treating you like this.
It was obvious that you deserved better than that, and you knew it, too.
But that didn't mean you were gonna get over it so easily. You knew Peter was a nice guy but he clearly had a lot going on to where he was hurting you and that wasn't okay.
You jumped a little when your phone buzzed, your roommate grumbling something before turning over and going back to sleep. With a grimace you opened your messages and was shocked to see who decided to finally text you.
thanks for bringing me home
You frowned when you read Peter's text, barely having time to blink before he sent another one.
i'm sorry
He had apologized twice now, technically. You weren't sure if he was apologizing for kissing you, or for you having to bring his drunk ass home, or everything that he's done in the past few months that has hurt you.
Either way, it wasn't enough to make you feel any better. If he was going to give you a sincere, actual apology, then maybe you would be able to accept it. And if he was going to explain himself with valid reasons for why he hurt you, you might even forgive him.
Might.
You put your phone back down and frowned, deciding to get ready for the day and make him wait a little for you to respond. Like you even knew what you were gonna respond with anyway.
Your roommate got up too and muttered something about how annoying your phone sounds were and how she couldn't wait to go home tonight, before grabbing her bag and rushing out the door. You were a little happy that she had left and decided to reply to Peter's text before jumping in the shower.
You sent the text quickly and grabbed your hairbrush, yanking it through your hair while glancing at your phone a few times.
If he replied, you would be pretty surprised. You didn't have any clue what he would possibly say, since your text was pretty straight forward and not really something to continue a conversation on. Part of you hoped he would send something back anyway, but you quickly scolded yourself for thinking that.
It was past time to get over that stupid boy and your hopes that he might come around and change. If he did then whatever, you weren't going to sit around and wait for him.
With a sigh you shoved your phone away, grabbing your books and deciding to put some time to finishing your work before the weekend. The weather was great and you wanted to get out and take some pictures, maybe even dragging Harry along, but you didn't want to do that until you finished your work for your classes.
It seemed like it was going to be a long day.
-
"There's strange activity a few blocks away according to police comms," Karen said through the mask, "Go right."
"Thanks," Peter sighed through his nose, shooting a web in the right direction and moving with it, trying to go faster.
The day had been boring, he could barely remember much of what he did. He drank a ton of water as MJ suggested, still feeling shitty as he did his rounds. After a while he just went back to his apartment to take a nap and decided to do a late night patrol later on, so here he was.
When he got to the scene he tensed, noticing it was a bunch of men arguing - a large duffle was in the middle, making him more alert.
He hated coming across drug deals - they hit a little too close to home.
"Shut up or you're gonna attract unwanted attention!" One of the guys yelled, making Peter roll his eyes.
He observed the scene, noticing several men surrounding the bag and waving their arms around while arguing. A couple people stood some feet back from the two main guys arguing, but he noticed only the two had guns on their hips. The rest seemed unarmed, or they had knives tucked away and hidden. Easy enough.
He jumped down in the middle, making several of the guys jump back in surprise. He quickly disarmed the two main guys and shot webs on their hands before turning to the rest.
"Hey guys," he said, crossing his arms, "Oh sorry, am I interrupting?"
"Get out of here, or she gets it," one of them said angrily, yanking out and pointing a gun at someone he didn't notice before, a few feet behind most of them.
Peter froze when he realized it was you.
"Y/N?" He whispered, taking a few slow steps forward.
What the hell were you doing here? You were just standing there with a scared look on your face, shaking your head at him. Something wasn't right but he didn't have time to figure out why.
"Watch it, Spidey," the guy threatened, holding the gun up to you again while you shut your eyes. "Actually, this shit isn't worth it."
"Hey don't, don't shoot her," Peter struggled to say, feeling like he was speaking through jello, but the guy raised his gun with intent this time. "Don't!"
It felt like a repeat of when he saw Ben die and when Tony was killed and when he watched her get shot. He couldn't move fast enough and suddenly a shot rang out and you crumpled to the ground while the shooter and his men ran off.
"No no no," Peter scrambled forward and dropped to his knees next to you, "No, you're fine, Y/N you're fine."
"It's okay," you said quietly, your eyes not quite focusing on him as you coughed, and Peter felt sick seeing some blood trickle out of your mouth. "It's okay."
"I'm sorry, I can-we can go to the hospital," he insisted, going to put his arms underneath you and pick you up but you winced, weakly shoving his arms away. "Y/N, please, you can't-you can't do this."
"I'm sorry," you mumbled, and Peter felt panic as you shut your eyes.
"No, don't-don't shut your eyes, come on," he freaked out, gripping your arms and shaking you a bit, but you didn't move. "Y/N, don't do this to me, I can't-"
He jolted up and found himself stuck to the ceiling, his blanket falling off of him and back to the bed below. He was in his room, in his pajamas, covered in sweat and his chest feeling tight with anxiety. He never went back to patrol because he didn't wake up from the nap he decided to take.
It was a dream.
His body relaxed a little and he fell back to the bed, trying to focus his on breathing. Nightmares weren't a new thing to him. He'd had them ever since Ben died and even more so since she died, he was used to calming himself down.
But not this time. Something felt different, and he wasn't sure if the reason was because it was his first nightmare about you dying, or the fact that the hair on the back of his arms and neck was still standing up straight, like something might actually be wrong.
He flopped his head over to look at the clock, seeing that it was nearly two in the morning. There was no reason you'd be out this late, much less at a drug deal. That was just ridiculous, he should have realized he was dreaming when it happened.
But it felt so real.
Without hesitating he got back up and rushed to grab his suit, deciding he couldn't wait and see if the anxiety would go away.
-
You bit your lip a little as you stared at the equation in front of you, not exactly sure how to proceed. The subject your teacher was going through this week was difficult and you weren't sure if you were doing it right.
It was nearly two in the morning and you were determined to get it finished before the weekend, so you didn't mind staying awake agonizing over it, even though you were exhausted.
Your phone was a foot away from you, and you almost contemplated grabbing it to text someone in your class for help, or even Peter, despite the late hour. But a loud bang made you jump and drop your pencil, whipping around.
The window shuddered a little as you stared at it wide eyed, seeing Spider-Man perched on the ledge with a hand up on the glass, the eyes of his mask squinted. After a second he reached a hand up and yanked the mask off, showing Peter's bright red face and even worse, tears brimming in his eyes.
You got up without hesitation and went to the window, yanking it open.
"Peter?" You hissed out in confusion as he climbed in, really glad that your roommate had gone home for the night.
He pulled you into a hug, and you could feel his body shaking from how tight he was holding you. You wrapped an arm around his waist and the other went up to his hair, eyebrows knit in confusion as you hugged him back.
"Hey, what - what happened, are you okay? Are you hurt?" There was no panic in your voice, no anger or questions about him being Spider-Man, no shock or surprise. Just concern.
Was he really surprised that you already knew he was Spider-Man?
"You're okay," his voice cracked as he said it, making you a little more confused as he held you closer to him, burying his face in your neck.
"Yeah, I'm-I'm fine," you confirmed, knitting your eyebrows, "Why wouldn't I be?"
You tensed a little when he brought his head up and looked you in the face, like he was looking to see if you were really there.
"I had a dream," he said carefully, like he was almost trying to convince himself that it was a dream. You were looking at him like he was a crazy person but he didn't care, he just held your face in his hands, finally relaxing now that he could see you were okay.
"Okay?" You replied, still sounding concerned. "Um, do you-want to talk about it or..? What's going on?"
Instead of responding he put his forehead to yours, shutting his eyes and trying to make his heart rate go down a little. You were here, you were fine, you were alive - that should be enough for him to calm down.
Peter really should have been given an idiot of the year award.
He wasn't sure if it was because he was so relieved you were okay, or because you looked adorable in your pajamas with messed up hair and tired eyes, or because the moment felt way more intimate to him than it probably actually was. But either way he made yet another stupid decision and closed the gap between your lips.
You weren't as caught of guard this time - for one you were sober and for another you saw him look at your lips and had an idea of what he was about to do next. But you didn't bother stopping him, even though you probably should have.
This was a lot different from the first kiss. You weren't drunk so it wasn't as messy but it was a little more desperate, and you could feel it in how tight he gripped you to him, like he was trying to get as close as possible.
It was almost like you were letting yourself forget every shitty thing he had done while your lips moved together, noses bumping a few times and one of his hands moving to your hair to bring you closer. But you were sober this time, and even though it felt nice, you knew that it wasn't right.
With a little hesitation, you put your hands on his shoulders and held him there while you moved back, not letting him follow your lips.
The only sound was both of you trying to catch your breath, Peter's hands still holding your face like he was afraid to let go while yours gripped his shoulders, though you weren't sure if it was to hold him back or because you just wanted to be touching him in some way.
"I'm sorry," he breathed out, and you tried not to roll your eyes.
"I'm so confused," you said a little breathlessly, trying to resist the urge to lean into him again. Instead you stepped out his grip, not looking at the rejected look on his face as he let his hands fall to his sides.
"I'm sorry," he repeated, shutting his eyes and sighing through his nose. "I shouldn't have done that again, I just-"
"Yeah, you shouldn't have," you agreed a little harshly, trying to ignore the stinging in your eyes as you sat on your bed. "You can't just treat me like you have been and then show up saying you had some-some dream and then kiss me out of nowhere again and not explain anything."
"I'm scared, Y/N," his voice sounded so hurt, it made your anger fade a little at the pain in his voice. "I'm scared that as soon as I let you in, you'll leave."
"Peter..." your voice trailed off, his expression pained, "I didn't plan on leaving."
"Maybe not intentionally," his eyes were tinged red when he met your gaze, "I can't lose you like I lost her. I can't do it again."
You had no idea who he was talking about, but you always had a feeling Peter was hiding something from you, more like someone. The girl from the pictures on his wall.
With a sigh you patted the spot next to you and he sat down quickly, not leaving much space between you. You let him put his head on your shoulder and you brought a hand up to his hair, trying to calm him down a little. It seemed like he was on the verge of breaking down before he even came in your room, and you needed him to calm down if he was going to explain anything.
"You need to start being honest with me, Pete," you said softly, running your fingers through his hair and noticing how he closed his eyes and relaxed at your touch. "I want to know what's causing this or I can't let you drag me around. It's not fair to either of us."
It went silent for a moment while he gathered his thoughts, focusing on the feeling of your hands in his hair comforting him. He didn't deserve you and he knew that, but opening up was hard, even if it was to someone he knew would accept him.
"How long have you known I was Spider-Man?" He asked after a second, and you were a little annoyed that he ignored what you just said, but you decided to go along with it.
"Since you saved me that day I was being stupid," you moved your fingers over the little spider emblem on his chest, pretending you didn't notice him shudder a little at your touch. "You have a pretty distinguishable voice, Parker."
His lips lifted a little at that, "You really knew that whole time and didn't say anything?"
"I can keep my mouth shut sometimes," you said in a defensive tone while he shook his head, "And honestly I was worried it would scare you off if you knew that I knew. It didn't really matter in the end though, did it?"
He frowned at that, his hand moving up and catching yours, holding it against him. "I don't want to scare you off, either. Which is why I've been so closed off."
"You can trust me, Peter," you promised, squeezing his hand.
"I know I can," he chuckled a little, but his smile dropped quickly. "I'm just scared."
"Tell me why, then."
He stared at you for a moment, taking in your messy bun and tired eyes and slightly chapped lips. Lips that he had kissed when he probably shouldn't have, or at least should have asked before doing, but he couldn't change that now. But he could change his problem of keeping things under a tight lid, and just open up for once.
Your thumb brushed over the back of his hand and he relaxed, knowing that he needed to talk about it. For both of your sakes.
"My parents died when I was really young, I don't-I don't really remember them much," he licked his lips, trying to ignore the feeling of you watching him while he spoke. "May and my uncle Ben raised me, but about a week after I got these powers, Ben was killed. And for a really long time I blamed myself for it, I still kind of do, but...it had gotten easier.
"And then it was better for a while, I had Tony and he was a great mentor, but then..." Peter clenched his jaw a little, and you took his hand in yours to encourage him to go on. "I only got through it because of May and...and her."
"Her?" You asked softly, drawing circles on the back of his hand to relax him a little.
"I never felt that way about anyone," he said quietly, his eyes squeezing shut, "I never thought losing someone could hurt more but I was right there and she died right in front of me and I didn't do anything-"
"Hey," you cut him off, knowing him rambling on was just going to make it worse, "Peter."
"I let it happen-"
"It wasn't your fault," you said firmly, not having any idea of the situation but still knowing it was true. He started shaking his head but you put your hands on his face, cupping his cheeks and making him look at you. "Listen to me. It wasn't your fault."
"You don't know-"
"I know you, Peter Parker," you ran your thumb over his cheeks, catching some of the tears starting to fall from his eyes. "I know you and I know it wasn't your fault."
He shut his eyes again and leaned forward, his head on your shoulder as he choked out a sob, making your heart ache. You hugged him to you, finally starting to understand why he did all of that. This was the first time he ever really opened up to you and now you were getting why it took so long.
"It's okay," you whispered, pressing a kiss to his hair while his arms snaked around your waist and held you tighter. "Peter, it's okay."
"I never felt that way about anyone," he repeated in a teary voice, his breath warm against your neck. "Not until I met you."
Him admitting how he felt about you made your heart skip a beat, but the sniffling sound he was making made it clear he was still hurting and you didn't think this was the right time for that conversation.
"We don't have to talk about that right now," you ran your fingers through his hair, biting your lip.
"We should," he replied, pulling back so he could look you in the eyes. This time he put his hand on your cheek, holding you as gently as he had that night when he was wasted. "It was so hard to do that to you and I shouldn't have. I should have given you an explanation instead of running like a coward. And I should not have kissed you when I was drunk or even just now when you still didn't know everything and...I'm sorry, I'm just so sorry."
"Peter, I know you know how I feel about you," you admitted, his eyes tightening a bit at your words, "I'm sorry that you went through losing people that close to you, and I understand why you would be scared to be close with someone again. You're right, you shouldn't have done that to me, not like that. But you were scared and I understand that, so...I forgive you, okay?"
"Just like that?" He asked quietly.
"You might need to work for it a little," you bit your lip to keep from smiling, and the look on his face told you he got that you were teasing.
"I can do that," he promised, bringing his forehead to yours. "Is it alright if I kiss you?"
"Now you ask?" You teased again, but he didn't reply this time, instead bringing his lips to yours for the third time.
It was a lot softer than the last two times. His hand had travelled to hold your waist and the other went to the back of your neck, snaking up toward your hair. And you held his face in your hands, trying not to smile as he moved his lips against yours.
You pulled away only to push him on his back, making him laugh while you went over him and muffled his chuckles with another kiss. He brought both hands to your waist and pulled you closer against him, humming against your mouth while you ran your fingers through his hair, making it even messier than usual from the mask.
"Are these Avengers themed bedsheets?" Peter mumbled against your lips, making you sigh and pull back.
"Mood killer," you accused, hands on his chest while you caught your breath. He just grinned and moved his hands from your waist to grab yours, holding one against his chest before bringing the other to his lips, kissing your knuckles.
You knew deep down that this boy was a romantic.
"That's how I thought kissing you the first time would have been like, not when I was drunk and fucked up," he breathed out, making you smile a little. "I'm sorry for messing it up."
"You didn't mess anything up," you pushed his hair back, taking in his slightly happier expression. "And you've thought about kissing me before?"
The blush rising across his cheeks made your little jab worth it, and he just rolled his eyes and brought his lips to yours again, fighting the urge to smile.
"Maybe a couple times."
okay so I know there's an author's note at the front but I know a lot of y'all don't read them lmao so remember DON'T POST SPOILERS!