𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤

In The Closet

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → fluff

Summary → Peter sneaks into your room, almost gets caught by your mom.

          ｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆  ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

Peter stumbles through your window, his clumsy ass nearly crashing into your desk. You wince at the loud noise, and before you can even register it, he trips over a pile of books on your floor, sending them tumbling in all directions.

"Oh my god, Peter!" You whisper harshly, trying to shush him as you rush to his side.

"Sorry!" He mumbles, eyes wide with embarrassment as he struggles to untangle himself from your blankets that he somehow managed to get wrapped in. "It’s dark in here! You have too much stuff!"

Before you can scold him, you hear footsteps approaching your door. Your heart races, panic surging through you. "Oh no. My mom."

Peter freezes, eyes widening even more. His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, as if he’s trying to say something but has no idea what. You frantically look around the room for a place to hide him.

The closet. It’s your only option.

"Get in!" You hiss, pulling him up by the arm and shoving him toward the closet.

He hesitates for a second, looking at the cramped space, but there’s no time for second thoughts. The sound of your mom’s knock echoes through your room.

"Honey? Are you okay in there?" Your mom’s voice is muffled but concerned.

Peter’s eyes are pleading as you push him inside the closet and shut the door, trying to act casual as you hop onto your bed. You shove some of the fallen books under your blanket, hoping it looks like you’ve just been clumsy.

The door creaks open, and your mom steps inside, her eyes scanning the room. "I thought I heard a noise. Everything alright?"

You flash her a nervous smile, hoping she doesn’t notice your racing heart or the fact that Peter Parker, your Spider-Man boyfriend, is literally hiding in your closet.

"Uh, yeah, everything’s fine, Mom," you say, doing your best to sound casual. "I just, um, tripped over some books. You know, silly clumsy me."

Your mom raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it at first. She walks a little further into the room, her eyes landing on the pile of books on the floor. She frowns slightly, but it doesn’t seem like she’s going to investigate any further. You inwardly sigh in relief.

"Well, just be careful, okay? I don’t want you hurting yourself," she says, walking over to you. She bends down, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. "Goodnight, sweetie."

"Goodnight, Mom," you respond, watching her head toward the door.

You feel the tension drain from your body as she finally shuts the door behind her. For a moment, you just sit there, waiting to make sure she doesn’t come back. The room is quiet now, save for your own breathing and the faint sound of Peter shifting awkwardly in the closet.

Once you’re sure the coast is clear, you tiptoe to the closet and slowly open the door. Peter tumbles out, looking slightly disheveled but otherwise fine. His face is bright red, and he’s clutching his chest as if he’d been holding his breath the entire time.

"That was close," he whispers, glancing toward the door as if your mom might burst back in at any moment.

"You think?" You whisper back, a mixture of frustration and amusement in your voice. "What were you doing? I thought you were supposed to be stealthy."

"I am!" Peter protests, but his cheeks flush even more. "Usually. But I’ve been fighting crime all night, and I was just... I don’t know. A little off my game."

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help but smile at him. There’s something so endearing about the way he’s trying to defend himself, even though you both know he messed up. You sigh, walking back to your bed and plopping down.

"Well, next time you decide to sneak in, maybe try not to destroy my room in the process."

Peter chuckles softly, his signature crooked smile spreading across his face. "I’ll try my best, but no promises."

He sits down beside you on the bed, his hand brushing against yours. It’s such a simple touch, but it sends a wave of warmth through you. Even when he’s a total disaster, there’s something about Peter that makes you feel safe and comfortable, like he’s the one person you can truly be yourself around.

"Thanks for not, you know, ratting me out to your mom," he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "That would’ve been... awkward."

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "No kidding. I don’t even want to think about how that conversation would’ve gone."

There’s a brief silence, and you both glance toward the window, the soft glow of streetlights filtering through the curtains. The night feels quiet and still now, as if the world outside has finally settled down.

"So... what were you doing sneaking in here anyway?" You ask, raising an eyebrow at him. "You usually text first."

Peter’s smile falters for a moment, and he looks down at his hands. "I don’t know. I just... I wanted to see you. It’s been a long night, and... I just needed to be with you. Is that okay?"

Your heart softens at his words, and any lingering frustration melts away. Of course, it’s okay. You can’t even imagine how hard it must be for him, balancing his life as Peter Parker and his responsibilities as Spider-Man. Sometimes, he just needs a break from all of that, and you’re glad he feels like he can come to you when he needs to unwind.

"Yeah, it’s okay," you say softly, reaching out to take his hand in yours. "You can come over whenever you want to, Peter. Just... maybe work on your landing."

He laughs quietly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he leans in, resting his forehead against yours. His breath is warm against your skin, and for a moment, the world feels like it’s shrunk down to just the two of you, sitting here in the soft glow of your bedroom.

"I’ll work on it," he promises, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You smile, your eyes meeting his. There’s a softness in his gaze, something tender and unspoken that makes your heart flutter. Even after everything—the late-night patrols, the near-misses, the constant danger—he’s still Peter. He’s still the boy who trips over your books and hides in your closet when your mom comes knocking.

And you wouldn’t trade that for anything.

"Come here," you murmur, tugging gently on his hand.

Peter shifts closer, wrapping his arms around you as you rest your head against his chest. His heartbeat is steady, and the warmth of his embrace makes you feel safe, like nothing in the world can touch you right now. You close your eyes, letting the sound of his breathing lull you into a sense of calm.

For now, everything is perfect. Just you, Peter, and the quiet of the night.

"You know," Peter whispers after a moment, "I could get used to this."

"Used to what?" You ask, your voice muffled against his chest.

"Sneaking in, almost getting caught, hiding in your closet... It’s all part of the thrill," he jokes, though you can hear the smile in his voice.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "You’re such a dork, Parker."

"Yeah," he agrees, tightening his hold on you. "But you love me anyway."

And he’s right. You do.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗