All Of Me (Peter Parker x Reader)

Chapter 5

"Peter..."

"..."

"Pete,"

"..."

"Peter?"

"Mmmm,"

"PETER! WAKE THE HELL UP!"

"Ahhh!"

Peter jolted awake, his brown eyes shooting open. His body went into complete alert mode. His arms flew out from their place under his pillow as his body twisted to its side. His hand connected with the ceiling, steadying himself.

"What?! What's wrong?!" he exclaimed. Peter's senses went into overdrive at the loud screaming voice, his mind connecting loudness with danger. His head snapping left and right, his enhanced sight scanning the room for something, that might be a source of danger as his hearing strained to listen for anything indicating a threat. But there was nothing. As his senses calmed down, he took in the familiar surroundings of his room, and May standing before his bunk, looking up at him with annoyed eyes.

"Cut the crap Peter," Aunt May said, squaring her gaze on her nephew. "It's me. Now get up, you're going to be late for school," she said, walking out of the room.

Peter watched through squinted eyes as she left his room, closing the door behind her so he could get changed for school.

"Ugh," he groaned, falling back down onto his top bunk. The brown haired boy brought his hands up to his face, each hand rubbing the eye it covered. "It's too early to start school..." he muttered stubbornly, his brain starting to shut down as he placed his head down on his pillow.

"I don't care! Get dressed. Now," Aunt May scolded through the door.

Peter groaned loudly at her, his tired eyes closing shut.

"But May-"

"Now,"

Peter rolled his eyes but listened to her none the less. Placing his hands firmly against his ceiling, almost as if to push the bords forward. But after a few seconds, his fingers began to feel as if they were merging with the material. Peter gave his hands a small tug, but they wouldn't budge from their spot. Perfect, he thought. Peter then swung his legs over the side railings of his bunk and scooted himself off of the bed, his hands still sticking to the ceiling. His body hung from it, his feet nearly half a foot from the floor. His head looked up at his hands and felt like they retracted from the ceiling, and he landed on his feet with a thump. He changed as quickly as he could, not wanting to upset May, and walked out of his room.

May watched as he emerged from the hallway and into the small area between the living room and kitchen, his eyes droopy from being woken up so abruptly.

"Good morning," she said from her place behind the counter. She looked over at the toaster, where two pieces of toast played inside, the red hot metal casting a warm glow from it. Her coffee sat in front of her as she stood, watching the morning news on the TV in the living room.

"Morn'n," Peter grumbled, his arms stretching above his head of messy chocolate curls. His arms lowered slowly, walking in the kitchen and right to the fridge.

"I have toast waiting for you in the toaster, Pete," May told him, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Thanks, Aunt May," he replied, opening the fridge door and reaching for a jug of orange juice. He twisted the lid open, lifting it up to his lips before tipping his head back and chugging it straight from the nozzle.

"You better not be drinking it straight from the container," May snapped, causing Peter to nearly spit a mouthful back into the jug. Though May would be amused to see that, she was equally happy as she heard him calmly put it away back in the fridge.