Murphy's Law «•Peter Parker x Y/N •»

A Torn Bouquet Of Roses

Rays of sunlight shot through the clouds, the evening air settling in to New York. It chilled Peter, and his panic only quickened. Peter swung through the skyline, already twenty minutes late for his date with Liz. He practiced his apology, scanning over any word that could trip him.

His webs swung him around and over various buildings, each of them thousands of metres above the ground. The roads ran along side him, citizens of New York swarmed the sidewalks.

Swinging patterns were very important. For speed, Peter would let himself dip and dive through the air. Right now, Peter looked like a dolphin, as he plunged downwards before finally throwing himself back upwards. However, Peter never liked the upwards part.

Speed gathering, in the quite far distance, Peter saw the twinkle of the theatre lights peek over the buildings. Hope rebuilding and spirits rising, Peter got a sudden burst of energy. It lasted for about two minutes, the pure adrenaline driving him through.

Until, his lungs started to give in, and he slowly lost control of his breath. He tried to gently brake himself to a stop, but the momentum would not allow him. The speed his feet were carrying him made him look a cartoon character, the puffs of dust behind his feet identical to those on his TV.

Peter was gradually able to stop, and he swung himself to a crouch on the edge of a roof. It was a turquoise, mildly rotted roof. It groaned underneath him, disorienting his footwork. He slowly stood up, careful to not fall through. Beckoning his breath back, Peter took his short moment to do a quick crime check.

Bikes being stolen? None here.
Stores being robbed? Not on this street.
Drugs being dealt? For once, no.

For his final check, Peter gave a quick surgery of the people that swarmed the streets. Scanning over the crowd, his heart dropped. In the middle of the road, Y/N's bag lay in front of a stampede of cars. He watched as she struggled to push against the crowd that crossed the road.

Peter could see the sparkle of the cinema's lights just a few blocks away. His shoulders slumped, and he swung down.
Traffic lights flashed, the amber light making Y/N's desperate struggle more harsh. A barricade of arms, legs and torso blocked her from the limp bag.

Like a diver, Peter plummeted down in to the road. Scooping up her bag, he could hear the car's engines revving, ready to ram him over. Throwing her bag to the sidewalk, it scraped against the concrete.
As he swung off, the wind picked up behind him, the cars rushing underneath him.

A second to late and he would have been crushed. Peter didn't realise this, rather his mind was overcome with stress.

"Please still be there, please still be there." He murmured to himself, a small echo of thanks from Y/N trailing him.

Finally arriving at the theatre, he dove in to the alleyway. Tearing off his suit, he replaced it with a plain white shirt. It hung around his wrists, May said he would eventually grow in to it.
Hastily buttoning it up, he tore open his hidden bag.

Crumpled, a bouquet of torn roses lay defeated at the bottom of the bag. Many petals ripped off, and piled at the corners of his already messy bag. Peter pulled it out, groaning as it wilted to the side. Telling himself to just push through it, he placed it down beside him. Shaking his head, he continued digging through the bag.

A black tie lay untidily at the bottom, and with a grumble of confusion, he picked up the two ends. After some frustration, he fiddled with it around his collar until it hung messily on his shirt. By the time he was done, the moon hung in the clouded sky. As soon as he was done, he raced out of the grimy crevice of the street.