The White Pallax (Peter Parker x Reader)

IV - What the hell is happening?!

When you awake, it's pitch. The only light emanates from the streets outside the apartment. The TV is off. You don't remember finishing the movie. Your head lies on Peter's shoulder and his rests on top of yours. He's snoring softly. You smile to yourself. This is the perfect moment.

You pull out your phone to find twelve missed calls from Tony Stark. And about forty thousand text messages. All of them saying things along the lines of where the hell are you and are you okay and one asking if you liked hot dogs better or the bun. You're not sure what that means, but you're almost positive he was drunk.

Mierda. You groan internally. Tony is going to kill you.

Slowly, you reach over and grab one of the couch pillows. You place it beneath Peter's head and quickly slip away. Thankfully his head only lolls a bit and he remains asleep. For a moment, you stare at him. When he sleeps, he's so peaceful. Almost more handsome than when he's awake. But this way you don't get to see his eyes. After standing in the middle of the living room like a creeper for a minute, you quietly slip out the door.

As you walk out of the apartment building, you shoot Peter a text.

Hey sorry I'm not there when you wake up. Don't worry, went home. Uncle freaked.

You turn a corner onto a dark street. An eerie feeling creeps up your spine.

Probably won't get your jacket back though. Guess we'll just have to hang out again :)

You tuck your phone back into the pocket of Peter's jacket. Chilly air tugs at your hair and nips your cheeks. You pull the jacket tighter around you. Your footsteps are seemingly the only sound in the strangely quiet city. Where are all the cars? The angry drivers? The drunken club goers? You swallow nervously. Something's off.

Subconsciously, you pick up your pace. And you swear, you swear you hear heavy footsteps behind you. You tell yourself that's okay. People can walk around at night in the city. You definitely should not be. But alas, here you are.

Finally, you reach the small apartment on the other side of Queens that you share with Tony. He sublet it years ago just after you were born in case you ever came to stay for an extended period of time. And now it's your home.

You insert the key and turn the lock. The door silently glides open. Knowing the layout of the apartment like the back of your hand, you don't dare turn on the light in case you wake Tony. Unfortunately, it doesn't seem to matter.

"It is three in the morning, Y/N!"

At the sound of your uncle's voice, you jump. He's sitting in a rolling chair your rolling chair, arms crossed. You find it vaguely comical that he would take the chair all the way from your room just to sit in the middle of the apartment like one of those parents in the movies. Comical, but annoying.

"You're really perceptive," you drawl, making for your bedroom. Tony stands and blocks your path. You huff and cross your arms. "What."

"I was worried!" He exclaims, running a hand through his hair, staring at your jacket. "Where were you?"

"Peter's. Time got away. Sorry."

"Wearing," Tony presses, raising a vindictive eyebrow, "his jacket?"

"Oh chill. It wasn't like that. Can I go to bed now?" You shove past him, but he grabs your elbow and spins you around. You take a deep breath in, ready for a fight with him, but he only pulls you into a hug.

"Just tell me next time, okay? I was so worried about you." He squeezes you tighter before letting you go. "Goodnight."

You trot to your room. "Goodnight."