twenty-six

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⋆ twenty-six ⋆

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⋆ twenty-six ⋆


"YES!"

I groan as Peter jumps around excitedly at winning, spinning around and whooping at the top of his lungs at our thirteenth consecutive game of Mario Kart.

May's at work, having left earlier. It's been a week since the incident, since my realisation, but neither of those things have been brought up. I've not mentioned Spider-Man and neither has Peter, and I haven't seen Dad at all since our fight. All I know is that I've stopped my driving lessons, and that it was a waste of money.

"You know, I'm not counting it as you winning overall," I tell him with a huff, crossing my arms. "You won, then I won, then you won, then I won, and it continued on. You can't pause it at thirteen with a seven-six win after that pattern, it's statistically incorrect."

"Someone's hungry," he spies with a grin, which just makes me groan.

I just throw my arms out on the sofa, taking up all the space as I start to whine like a child. "I don't have the energy to get up and make myself a sandwich. It's too much. I'm going to explode."

"Eat the sandwich components without putting them together," he replies instead, promptly lifting one of my arms and sitting back down beside me, dropping my arm back onto his lap. I just stare at him quizzically. "Eat a handful of cheese and some sandwich meat. You don't need to make the sandwich."

"What."

He laughs, leaning over and kissing my forehead, but I just huff again and wipe my face. "I don't want a kiss. I want a sandwich."

"And the kitchen is ten steps to your right."

I turn to Peter Parker, rolling my eyes at him, then finally say, "Pickle sandwich?"

He grins. "That'd be awesome, thanks."

With that I hoist myself onto my feet, heading over to the kitchen as Peter laughs, and I grab the fillings and the bread, starting to make them. I glance back at Peter, about to ask something, only to see him with his lips pursed. He only does that when he's deep in thought about something. "What is it?"

Peter glances around at me, as if seeing me for the first time, then looks away again and pauses the game (that he started without me). "I, uh... I have to tell you something. It's sort of important, and I probably should've told you a while ago, but I knew you'd overreact so I've been putting it off, which probably wasn't the smartest thing–"

"Peter." I give him a pointed look, keeping calm on the outside, while on the inside I'm screaming IS HE GOING TO FINALLY TELL ME THAT HE'S SPIDER-MAN. I've not been in his room again since last Saturday, but I don't think he's noticed that I saw the photos. "I'll be fine. What's up? Are you okay?"

He bites his lip, then holds his hands out in my direction. "I'm using this as a wall, because I know exactly what's about to come. Okay, so, uh... I'm taking you to meet Mr Stark tomorrow."

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