Ned had to leave shortly after that, so Peter and I switched to baking cookies. Somehow, he didn't mess it up. Listen, I can bake. Him? Ehm, he tries his best. But anyways, we made cookies and they didn't get burned. His table was kinda by a window and the moon was out. We were sitting on other sides of the table and the lights were off cuz who needs those.
I was looking at Peter. The top half of his head was shadowed so you could pretty much only see his mouth and the tip of his nose. He was taking bites of his cookie and telling me a story between bites. It looks so familiar. Where have I seen this before? I stare at his jawline and mouth and holy shit! Spiderman!
"Hey, odd question," I say.
"Ooh, nice," he smiles.
"Are you Spiderman?" I ask.
He pauses, his brain almost doing a reset.
"Wait, I'm sorry, even if you were you don't have to tell me. Oh, god, I'm sorry," I immediately regret asking.
"Hey, Y/N, it's okay. Don't worry. I trust you," he calms me down. I look up at him, confusion written on my face. "Yeah, I'm Spiderman," he tells me. I gasp.
"Oh no," I put my head back down. "I told you how hot you are. Gah!"
He just laughs at my misery.
I look back up. "Prove it. Prove your Spiderman," I tell him. He goes to his room and comes out with the mask.
"Wow," I say, once he puts it on.
"Can you do the web thing?" I wonder.
"Of course," he smiles, webbing my hand to the table. "Here let me grab the-" he cuts himself off. He pauses and tilts his head almost listening to something. "Hold on, I need to do this thing. I'll be back in like thirty minutes," he says, almost asking.
"Go!" I encourage him. I have my phone so time isn't really a concern.
I decide to text whoever I can and if no one responds, well, I have games.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Mr. Parker,
FanfictionA Peter Parker wrong Number "Hey, I'm bleeding to death! Send me the YouTube link on how to stitch a bullet wound." "Help me with my chemistry homework first."
