Along Came A Spidey

CHAPTER 24

Warnings: ANGST. ANGST. ANGST. Mentions of nudity; this is NOT smut. Definitely boring.

You've been sitting in the bathtub for a while now, legs drawn up to your chest. You rest your forehead on your knees, and your toes curl, rubbing against the smooth fiberglass of the tub. With every passing second, the water loses its heat- it's lukewarm now. Relaxing? No, you couldn't call the bath that. Comforting? Hm, you supposed. It was something you'd do to calm yourself during the times Peter was away, battling God knows who.

Your stomach would knot and turn at the thought that Peter might not come home that night, but you don't want to think about that. So you focus on the water dripping from the faucet. 'Plink. Plink.' The ripples follow immediately, pulsing toward you in small waves.

You hear the front door rattle open. It's him, and you exhale deeply in relief. His voice rings loud and clear through your apartment, calling out your name. You respond croakily out of relief, shouting that you're in the tub.

In a few short moments, Peter is padding into the tiny bathroom, suit discarded somewhere in your flat. He joins you in the tub, slipping out of his briefs easily. But there are no words, just quiet.

It had been like that lately. Quiet- quiet and uncertain. You turn to face Peter, and you're taking in just how beaten and bruised he is. Purple splotches run up his ribcage. Scabs and small cuts litter his arms and chest. His hair is matted with sweat and grime, and dark circles ring his eyes.

At least we aren't fighting again, you think and chasten yourself for thinking that. You hadn't argued for a while....but then, it'd been a while since you two actually talked and laughed and been happy.

Peter's studying you, too. He's taking in the water droplets on your arms and the curve of your breasts, the shriveled skin of your fingertips from prolonged exposure to the bath water, your chapped lips, and tangled, damp hair.

Months. The two of you had been together for six months and yeah, in the long run it isn't long at all but for a high school relationship? Six months is a lot. Especially considering that most couple "cough" Ned and Betty "cough" break up every other week. Peter's starting to worry . What if you want more than this unpredictable life? He doesn't want to subject you to more nights like this. Anxious ones when you'd wait up for him, praying that he'd come home to you in one piece. Having panic attacks. Lonely ones when you'd roll over in bed and run your fingers over his pillow.

And Peter is immediately filled with regret. He never should have agreed  to move in with you, but he was selfish. He didn't stop and even consider for a second how this would work out. Peter was just proud he had saved up enough to live with the girl of his dreams, even if it was for a month and a half but the two of you were happy...at least he thought you were. You were happy, right? The question gnawed at the back of his mind incessantly.

Your voice cuts through the air, drawing Peter away from his troubling thoughts. You're beckoning him to stand up, so you can drain the now cold bath and turn on the shower. Under the steaming, hot water, Peter's aching muscles relax, and he breathes a deep sigh of relief.

 'When did we stop talking?' It's a question that runs through your mind day and night. You keep your eyes on Peter. He's lathering shampoo into his hair, scrubbing his arms and chest with the soap bar. Was he happy? You couldn't tell anymore. Maybe he wanted more than this mundane life. After all, he was a superhero. It must bore him to death to come home from an adrenaline-packed fight to a partner who spent most of her nights bent over textbooks and half-written essays for a high school she didn't care about to get into a college she knew she would hate.