Spider-Man/Peter Parker One-Shots

(HC) The Price of Heroics [Part 2]

"How do you manage to not work a single day and have so much money?" you asked, dreading going into work and hoping if you made small talk, it wouldn't come so fast. Peter looked up from his laptop, smiling sadly. You already regretted asking before he said a word.

"Life insurance," was all he uttered before emotion stopped him and he looked down.

"Oh honey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-" You reached towards him but stopped, unsure of how to offer sympathy. It was a weird position to be put in, where you wanted extra bad to help but also knowing you had a fat unrequited crush on the kid meant you didn't want to overstep your bounds by accident. It wasn't like you were good at it to begin with, blunt well wishes were your specialty, but that didn't feel appropriate right now.

"It's okay." He wiped at his eyes, snapping his laptop shut and sweeping his books into his bag. "Is it alright if I come with you?" Whether because he already planned on it or you bringing up bad memories was the reason, you jumped to say yes.

"Of course. MJ will be there too, so you'll have double the reason." You winked, bending down to tie your shoes and adjust your green and pink uniform. It wasn't the most comfortable but it wasn't like the boss cared about anything but appearance. Pretty pastels on cute girls meant more money for him; the outfits could be uncomfortable as sin for all he cared.

Peter's eyes seemed to light up at the mention of MJ. It still felt like a stab through the stomach, but hey, you'd come to terms with it. "You know, you should grow a pair and ask her out."

"What?" he gaped, swiping at his backpack strap to grab it and missing a couple times. "I couldn't, I- well that- I couldn't-" You laughed, ruffling his hair despite his protests.

"I won't take it too personally that you like someone else. I know not everyone wants a strong, independent, slightly psychotic girlfriend." Your tone was joking, but you were partially serious. He sputtered that you were a great girl friend, you were his only friend sure but that didn't make you any less of a great friend, all while you checked the knife on your thigh. All set.

"You ready to go?" you asked, slipping your phone into your pocket and putting your hand on the front door knob.

"Yes ma'am." You swung the door open and let him leave before locking it behind you. You traced your finger along his back as you passed him, seeing his eyes pop and face turn red as you did. You grinned, making sure to keep your head facing forward so he couldn't see. Sure he didn't like you, but that didn't mean you wouldn't keep trying to make him blush. Red was a good color on him. Speaking of red...

"How's your job going?" you asked, raising a completely casual eyebrow at him.

"I don't have a job," he said in a 'we just went over this' voice.

"The red and blue one?"

"Oh! It's, uh, fine." He shrugged, hands on his backpack straps like a kindergartner. He wasn't used to people asking about it, let alone knowing about it anymore.

"Cool, cool. You wanna explain why you scared me coming home last night?" His face turned red. Last night you were passed out in your bed, and he lost his backpack (again) which had his key in it. He knocked rather aggressively at the door because he claimed he didn't want anyone seeing him in his suit, but at the time you thought he was trying to kidnap and murder you. So you threw open the door and held your knife to his throat, or at least you tried to but seeing as he has a sixth sense or whatever, he dodged and you nearly went flying over the railing down 3 floors. He caught you, thankfully, but you were still dealing with the adrenaline craze long afterwards as he apologized over and over again.

"I'm sorry," he said, it still not sounding like actual words due to how many times he'd said it. "I'll replace the backpack, and the key!"

"Honey, can you not bring your backpack with you when you go out fighting crime? Or does your outfit not have any pockets?"