You Me, A Place To Be

𝐧𝐞𝐮𝐟 | 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

Peter gets back down the kitchen to make two bowls of cereal. Inhales, exhaling with a sigh. "Fuck," He cusses under his breath. He leans forward, bracing his forearms on the counter.

He wonders if Y/N's already asleep or, maybe, if she's wide awake because of her thoughts. Peter feels frustrated, and it isn't even because he has to tell his heart to calm down because he most definitely isn't knocking on the bedroom door, now. It's because he wants to do it. There is a child that needs to be fed and hugged.

He opens his eyes. This is what he's feeling after a single night around her. He wonders how the fuck this friendship thing is going to work when he can't stand to look at her without having the urge to pull her in, call her his again.

It's easier when he admits it to himself. It's way easier to do so when he's sleepy and still a bit high - on weed and on a long night with Y/N.
Peter hates how he loses himself around her. It was like this when he first kissed her, it continues to be like this however many years later. When he closes his eyes again, he thinks of her - which isn't new, of course. However, he thinks of her lips. Peter wonders if the reason why he craves Y/N's skin on his so much is because the last time wasn't enough. He wonders if the feeling would wear off if he did it again.
He isn't doing it again.

Shit.

"Get your shit together and make some damn cereal." He mutters under his breath, reaching for two bowls and it hits him how tired he actually is. Fuck, he needs to sleep.

Peter thinks of her eyes. He doesn't know why, though, he can't seem to picture Y/EC. Instead, he finds himself thinking of fluttering eyelashes, watery eyes, furrowed eyebrows.

Fuck. Peter doesn't usually feel horny when he's making cereal

And this time he shakes it off, but Y/N still gets under his skin. And he feels guilty because she's probably sleeping in the upstairs while Peter's thinking about having her in his bed, body over her's, her warm breath on Peter's neck, her calling out his name. "Shit." Peter cusses again, frustrated.

And the thing is Peter doesn't want to just say "Fuck it all" And upstairs to her, he knows he needs to care for himself, knows the shit he's been through. But it's just fucking hard when he knows - by personal experience - that Y/N sleeps naked. It started after she moved to Paris.
Peter feels himself growing hard. God, he hates himself.

He wonders if Y/N's thought of him this way.

Peter misses her skin.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He repeats, like it's a mantra, and rubs the palms of his hands against his eyes.
Peter isn't giving in.

"Nells, I'm gonna go take a quick shower, then we can have breaky, is that alright?" Peter asks.
"Okay." She says still snuggled in the knitted blanket.

He doesn't give it another thought before he goes to his bathroom and takes a cold shower. It's freezing - and he hates it -, but it's enough to keep his mind off her.

When Peter gets to the kitchen he finally makes cereal and calls Ned's mom to come pick up Nellie for a couple hours and she is over in no time taking the little girl.

Peter goes upstairs, lays in his bed, he pictures the sleeping figure he woke up to a few hours ago. Before he falls asleep, he quietly wishes Y/N wasn't a room away, but in his arms, instead hug his pillow tightly. It isn't her, but if he prays hard enough, maybe he'll dream it is.
💐