𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤

A Long Day

Parings → Dad! Peter Parker x Mom! Reader

Warnings → Exhaustion, parental stress, mild frustration, brief argument, soft comfort

Summary → After a rough patrol and an exhausting day with their tantrum-throwing son, Peter and Y/n find comfort in each other.

          ｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆  ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

You were in the kitchen, stirring the pot of soup while keeping an ear out for the tiny tornado that was your five-year-old son, Ben. He had been in a mood all day—whining, crying, throwing little tantrums over everything. He didn't want to wear socks. He didn't want to eat his lunch. He didn’t want to nap but then got mad when he was tired.

It was one of those days.

You loved Ben more than anything, but today had tested your patience in ways you didn’t think possible. Right now, he was sitting on the couch, huffing dramatically because you wouldn’t let him have cookies before dinner.

You exhaled and rubbed your temples, just as you heard the familiar thwip of webbing outside.

Peter.

You turned just in time to see your husband climb through the living room window, his mask already off. His brown curls were damp with sweat, a few strands clinging to his forehead. His suit was torn in places, bruises already forming along his arms and jaw.

You could see the exhaustion written all over his face.

“Hey,” you said softly.

Peter didn’t say a word. He just walked straight toward you and pulled you into his arms, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

You immediately wrapped your arms around him, rubbing soothing circles into his back. His body was tense, his breaths uneven.

"Rough patrol?" you murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple.

Peter just nodded, his grip tightening around you. He wasn't usually this quiet when he came home—normally, he would greet Ben first, then come to you with a tired but happy smile. But tonight was different.

You pulled back slightly, cupping his face in your hands. "Go take a warm shower, love. I’ll have dinner ready in a few minutes."

Peter sighed, leaned forward to press a slow, lingering kiss against your lips, then whispered, "I love you," before disappearing into the bathroom.

---

Fifteen minutes later, all three of you were at the dinner table. Peter looked much better, though you could tell his muscles were still sore from the way he winced when he reached for his water glass. His damp curls stuck to his forehead, and he had on his usual post-shower attire—sweatpants and an old T-shirt.

You placed a bowl of soup and a small plate of vegetables in front of Ben, but before you could even sit down, he pushed his plate away and whined.

"I don't like this!"

You took a deep breath. Stay calm. "Ben, sweetheart, you liked this yesterday."

"Well, I don’t like it today!" His voice was rising, his little fists pounding against the table.

Peter, who had been rubbing his temples, sighed deeply. "Buddy, please—"

Ben wasn't listening. He whined louder, his eyes brimming with frustrated tears. "I want chicken nuggets!"

"Okay, okay," you said, forcing a patient smile. "I'll make you some after we finish eating, alright?"

But Ben just kept whining, his voice getting more and more shrill. You could feel your own exhaustion creeping up, your patience thinning.

Peter, who had been silent this whole time, suddenly snapped.

"Ben." His voice was sharp, firm.

Ben instantly went quiet.

Peter’s jaw clenched, his voice tired but serious. "Eat your food. You’ve exhausted your mom enough today."

Ben shrank in his seat, suddenly quiet, his tiny hands gripping the edge of the table. He picked up his spoon and slowly started eating.

You sat there, stunned.

Peter rarely raised his voice—especially at Ben. He was usually the soft, goofy, fun dad, the one who could make Ben laugh even when he was on the verge of tears. But tonight, you could see how truly exhausted he was. His eyes were red-rimmed, his shoulders tense.

Without a word, you got up and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his side. You pressed a soft kiss to his temple, rubbing gentle circles on his shoulder.

"Hey," you whispered, "it's okay. Calm down."

Peter sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned into your touch. "I'm sorry," he murmured. He turned to Ben, who was still quietly eating his soup. "I shouldn’t have yelled, bud. I’m just really tired."

Ben looked up at him with big, round eyes. His voice was small when he said, "I'm sorry, Daddy."

Peter sighed and reached out, ruffling Ben’s messy brown curls—the same curls he inherited from Peter. "It's okay, buddy. Just... try to listen to Mommy, alright?"

Ben nodded, and the rest of dinner passed in silence.

---

Once Ben was tucked into bed, you finally slipped into your own room. You grabbed one of Peter’s oversized shirts, pulled on a pair of soft cotton shorts, and climbed into bed with a relieved sigh.

Peter came in a few moments later, running a tired hand through his curls. He had stripped down to just his boxers, and as soon as he saw you with your arms open, he collapsed onto you.

Like, full-body weight, arms wrapped around you like a koala, his face buried in your chest.

You huffed out a laugh, running your fingers through his curls. "Peter, I love you, but I also like being able to breathe."

He just hummed sleepily, snuggling even closer.

"Talk to me," you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. "I know something happened during patrol."

Peter let out a long, heavy sigh. "I lost them."

Your brows furrowed. "Lost who?"

"The guys I was chasing. They were robbing a store in Queens, and I almost had them, but they got away. I—I don’t know, I just wasn’t fast enough today." His voice was thick with frustration. "And then I got home, and you were exhausted, and Ben was throwing a fit, and I just—I snapped."

You tightened your hold on him. "Peter, you can’t do everything. You’re not a machine. You were exhausted, and Ben was having a rough day. It’s okay."

Peter groaned, nuzzling further into your warmth. "I still feel like an ass for yelling at him."

"You apologized," you reminded him. "And he understood. He loves you, Pete. He’s not gonna hold it against you forever."

Peter was quiet for a moment. Then, his arms tightened around you. "How do you always make me feel better?"

You smiled, pressing another kiss to his forehead. "Because I love you. And I know how much you beat yourself up over things you can’t control."

Peter exhaled, finally relaxing completely.

"I love you too," he whispered.

A moment of silence passed before he mumbled, "I'm still not moving. You’re stuck with me like this forever."

You chuckled, stroking his back. "I think I can live with that."

And just like that, Peter finally let himself rest.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗