A/N — Keep in mind this is the Andrew Garfield version of Spider-Man that I had invisioned. Just so you know the character I was trying to potray.
You relax on your olive-green sofa, which was all you could afford at the time. In your small one-bedroom apartment, that is all you can afford here in this expensive city. All you know is that you’re finally on your own. You were hoping to get an apartment to room in with someone, but didn’t have the time to since your mom was moving to Wisconsin soon.
At least the neighbor’s weren’t too loud. But sometimes you’d get the strong smell of fragrance like perfume or air fresheners. The best part of this tiny apartment is the small balcony that can overlook the city. You’re on the tenth floor, but you can still see a lot from there.
You brush the lock of your [h/c] hair behind your ear and get of from the sofa, staring at your phone screen. Your BFF, Lindsey, has been texting you all day about a robbery. All your BFF knows is that you know Spider-Man, so she was concerned, as always.
She has always been obsessed with Spider-Man and she attempted so many times to get his identity out of you. But out of loyalty for Peter, you’d never say. You make your way to the balcony and prepare for the winds to welcome you out on the balcony. You lean on the chilled rail and read the recent text Lindsey has sent.
“Spidey is in pursuit of the robbers. Aren’t you worried?”
She always asks that. You grin and reply. “Not a bit. He’ll be fine.”
You look down to see police sirens running down a street nearby and see a red dot slicing between buildings. You smile as you watch him chase after the running cars. They turn down a street and disappear behind a building.
Being with Peter means you have to be patient with him. He can’t always be there on time because of this. Which you do not mind. Saving someone’s life is more worth the fifteen to forty minute delays on hanging out.
After a few minutes of letting the breeze help drown you in your thoughts, you push away from the railing and walk back inside. Closing your glass slide-door. You flip on the TV to the news and see that Peter has once again stopped the criminals. And as usual he leaves as fast as he came to the rescue.
You flip off the TV and slide your phone into your back-pocket of your jeans and head to the kitchen to get something to drink. You feel kind of parched. You take out the famous lemonade you have always made and began to pour some in a glass.
Just then a thunk comes from the slide-door. You stop pouring the lemonade and place the pitcher down. What was that? You thought. Could’ve been a bird again. You look at the door and see nothing.
Curiosity gets the better of you and you walk to the slide-door. You open it slowly peeking your head out the door. No sign of birds or anything. You pull yourself back in and shut the door. That was strange. You walk back to the counter in your kitchen and your glass that was half-full of lemonade is gone. Only a few drops left.
You thought that maybe you could have thought that you managed to pour some, but you distinctly remember pouring some in the glass. You shrug it off and begin to pour some more in the glass again.
You open the fridge and put the pitcher on the top rack. You turn around and your glass of lemonade is gone. You place your hands on your hips in deep thought. Then a grin tugged at the corner of your lips.
“Hey Peter. Need lunch?” You say opening the fridge once again to get the lemonade back out. You hear a small footstep enter the kitchen, sounds as though whoever it was, was trying to be quiet.
You spin on your heels and see Peter with his messy hair like always and a toothy grin he always wears when he first sees you. He has a small cut on his lower lip, but it will heal. And that missing glass of lemonade in his hand.
“Sure.” He puts his arm on your waist and pulls you into his side and gives you a small squeeze.
You do the same and open the fridge door again. “Turkey or chicken?” You asked taking out the different lunch meats. He shoots a web at the turkey and places it on the counter. He takes out the bread and shoots a web at that mayo in the fridge.
You shrug, since this is normal. But it’s still amazing to see him use his webbing device at work. You finish making your sandwich after he exits the kitchen with his. As fast as the things were pulled out, you put them back. You walk to Peter who is currently taking a seat on the couch. You take a seat next to him and lean on him.
“How was the chase?” You asked casually. You take a bite of your sandwich, awaiting Peter’s response.
“Same old, same old.” He says with a shrug as he stares at his sandwich.
You and Peter eat the rest of your sandwiches in silence. and then you lay your head on his lap afterwards, looking up at him as he strokes your hair. “So, ‘same old, same old’ huh?” You say smiling.
He grins and says. “Yeah. Same thing, different day, similar situation.” You grab his hand that’s been rest on your stomach and rub his hand absent-mindedly. “What about you?”
You think about this and thought that your day was pretty boring. “I did absolutely nothing. Except search for a few colleges.” You say with a small frown.
“Well, that isn’t nothing.” He says giving you a sincere look. You prop yourself up on your elbows.
“Hm, I guess so.” You say giving him a small grin. “C’mere.” You say to him. He cocks his head to the side slightly and moves down. You grab the side of his face gently, allowing yourself to balance on your elbow and plant a small kiss on his lips.
You both retreat for a second, he looks into your soft [e/c] eyes and gives you a small grin before going back for more. You love how passionate he is and how he knows what you want by looking at him. He’s always been that way with you.
“I love you.” Peter said when you break way the kiss.
You give him a surprising look since he has never said this to you. You smile and finally find yourself saying. “I love you too.” You’ve never been so sure in your life that you love someone. But Peter… Peter is someone else. Someone who you could love and know that you’ll be loved in return.