LONELY HEARTS | ❝You don't have to be a hero, just like I don't have to be sad all the time, but sometimes fate works in strange ways and, well, here we are❞
PRE-CIVIL WAR → HOMECOMING | PETER PARKER
BOOK ONE IN THE HERO OF HEROES SERIES
Plot: tinke...
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IT TOOK DIANA A COMPLETE MONTH TO REALIZE THAT PETER PARKER AND THE SPIDER-MAN WERE TWO COMPLETELY DIFFERENT PEOPLE. NIGHT OR DAY, SHE WAS STILL THE SAME DIANA. Peter Parker ducked his head and had a shy smile and blushed whenever Diana or any of her friends complimented him. The Spider-Man made jokes and showed off. Even without the mask on, Diana could tell the difference between the two of them. She had asked him one night about herself and he had admitted that he couldn't tell the difference.
There was a prime example of the difference when she dragged him into a maintenance closet one lunch in February to discuss another matter concerning their late night rendezvous.
"This is the maintenance closet, Diana. This is the most cliche hiding place you could have chosen."
"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't take us to the Bahamas of hiding places. I'll remember to do that the next time a super powered teenager decides to show up on my fire escape."
Peter shook his head, smiling. It was the bright smile, the one that she had only ever seen late at night when he was sitting on her desk chair or on her bed.
"What's up, doc?" he asked, tilting his head.
She sighed. "Rosie's been onto us, I think. I-I mean, I don't know what she thinks, but—"
"Hey," he whispered, placing his hands on her shoulders, "She hasn't been home when I'm over, so no worries there. Have you been leaving the bandages out again, you said you only did that once."
"I did," she said, "That's another thing, I don't think I can keep stealing for her. Ever since that morning, she's been worried about me, I think she'll start searching soon. The new bed sheets every few days isn't helping much either, Peter."
He sighed, nodding. "You have a point, doc. Okay, are you telling me not to come over anymore, because I'll be fine—"
"Bugs," she whispered, grabbing his arms, "No way. Have you seen your injuries, you might need stitches if they get any worse. I'm just saying that we might need to figure out how to get supplies. My cash can only go so far and if I use my debit card..."
He hummed. "Point. Um...gosh, I dunno, doc. Does anyone owe you a favor? Okay, that sounds bad, I—"
"No, I get it," she said, "I'll figure something out, don't worry. Peter, are you sure no one's targeting you."
"Positive," he said, "I mean, it's been a month and I've only visited you six times, so it's not as if they're all that frequent."
She sighed and nodded. "Point. I'll figure it out, I just wanted to mention it to you."
He motioned to the cramped space they were standing in. "Great choice for a conference room."
She smacked his arm. "Get over it."
He laughed. "I'll see you later, doc, hopefully in a larger space."
She hummed, reaching for the doorknob. "Wow, Peter, I get it if you don't like me, there's no need to get rude about it."
