𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤

Steam and Squeals

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → Shower, nudity, teasing, whining Peter

Summary → Peter hates streaming hot showers but you love them.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

The bathroom was hazy, steam curling around the mirror and rolling off the tiles like some kind of spa-advertisement gone wrong. You were humming quietly under the rush of water, eyes closed, completely in your element.

Because honestly? Hot showers were your thing. You could spend forever standing there letting the water melt your muscles and burn your skin just a little.

But then-

"Babe?"

The voice cut through the steady patter of water. You cracked one eye open and peered through the fogged glass door. Peter Parker stood there in just his boxers, hair messy, bare feet planted awkwardly on the rug infront of the shower door. He looked about two seconds from bolting.

"Yeah?" You called, soap suds sliding down your arms.

"Can I-uh, can I join?" He asked, rubbing the back of his neck. His voice cracked a little, like he wasn't sure if you'd say yes.

You grinned immediately. "Sure! Come on in."

Sliding the glass door open just a sliver, you let the steam pour out. It billowed into the bathroom like you'd opened the gates of hell.

Peter instantly stumbled back, coughing dramatically. "Oh my god-it's like Mordor in there!" He waved his hand through the steam. "Baby, are you boiling yourself alive?!"

You rolled your eyes, lathering shampoo in your hair. "It's not that bad. A little hot water won't hurt you."

"Yes it will!" He pointed accusingly at the shower like it was your accomplice in a crime. "You're trying to slow-cook me. This is Spider-Man stew waiting to happen."

You laughed. "Oh please. Even if you did get burned a little, you heal fast."

Peter gave you a look of absolute betrayal. "Wow. So considerate. Truly touched by your concern for my wellbeing."

"Fineeeee," you sing-songed, twisting the knob a little until the water dropped a few degrees. "Better?"

Peter hesitated like he was negotiating with a villain. "Lukewarm. Please. I don't wanna turn into a roast chicken."

"Chicken," you muttered under your breath.

"I heard that!"

Smirking, you gestured. "Get in here before the water goes cold."

Peter sighed like he was about to face his greatest nemesis. He shimmied out of his boxers, tossed them dramatically on the floor, and stepped inside with the caution of someone entering enemy territory.

The second the water hit his chest, he flinched. "Still hot," he accused.

"It's fine!" You argued. "You're just weak."

"I am not weak. I just value my skin cells." But then he shuffled closer anyway, pressing his forehead against yours. His wet lashes blinked as a smile tugged at his lips.

"Hi," you whispered, grinning at how dorky he was.

"Hello, my hot water menace," he murmured, slipping his arms around your waist.

You laughed, resting your head against his shoulder. For a moment, everything was perfect-the water rushing, his chest warm against your back, his lips brushing your neck. Domestic bliss.

Until temptation hit.

You glanced at the shower knob. Then back at Peter, who had his eyes closed, clearly enjoying the moment. A little grin crept onto your face.

Just a tiny bit hotter...

Your fingers twisted the knob up.

The next second, Peter let out the loudest, most dramatic yelp. "AHH! It's lava! LAVA!!" He jerked back like he'd been electrocuted, smacking into the tiled wall.

"Peter!" You laughed so hard your stomach hurt.

"Are you trying to murder me?!" He shielded himself with his arms. "You-you sneak! You tricked me!"

"Relax, you big baby."

"I am not a baby," he whined, immediately stepping behind you and grabbing your waist like you were his human shield. "I'm just strategically avoiding second-degree burns."

You snorted. "Peter, come on, you wanted to shower together. That means actually showering."

"I am showering," he said stubbornly, peeking over your shoulder at the water stream like it was a shark. "You shower, I'll just... stand here. Behind you. Protected."

You tilted your head back against his shoulder, laughing. "You're hopeless."

"Hopelessly in love with you," he corrected instantly, kissing your damp cheek.

"Nice save."

"Thank you."

For the next few minutes, you washed your hair while Peter used you as cover, refusing to step into the direct spray. Anytime you moved, he moved with you, like some kind of clingy shadow.

"Peter, I can't rinse properly if you keep holding me hostage."

"I'm keeping us both safe."

"From water?"

"From boiling water," he emphasized. "There's a difference."

You turned suddenly, shoving him into the spray. He gasped dramatically, "AHHH-"

"See?" You teased, rinsing your hair quickly. "Not so bad."

"I'm dating a sadist," he mumbled, water dripping down his face.

"You love it."

"...Yeah, I kinda do," he admitted with a little smile, leaning forward to kiss you under the spray. The kiss turned soft, then playful, his hands skimming your sides while the water poured over both of you.

"Still think it's too hot?" You whispered against his lips.

He groaned. "Honestly? I can't even tell anymore. You're way hotter than the water."

You burst out laughing, shoving his shoulder. "That was the cheesiest thing you've ever said."

"Well, you're still smiling."

"I hate you."

"You love me."

You sighed, pressing your forehead to his. "Yeah. I really do."

And even though the water was still way too hot for Peter's taste, he didn't complain again. He just stayed there with you, dripping wet, arms around your waist, occasionally muttering under his breath about "the world's most dangerous shower."

But secretly? He wouldn't trade it for anything.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗