P.P. - Something Familiar

Ch. I

It has been years since Peter Parker's identity had been announced to the world by a counterfeit hero named Mysterio. Those few years felt like the longest in Peter's life, some nights he thought he would never see the day where he would be able to study at his dream college. As soon as he thought his life was calming down, that is when he met you, or more so, your Spider-heroine persona. Y/H/N is what she called herself, and with one confirming call from Nick Fury, Peter was more than happy to have you by his side.

The truth was, you knew Peter Parker before the turmoil of your recent spider bite. In fact, you have been admiring the handsome sophomore from your college's coffee shop for almost two whole school years now. You spent most of your time in the campus coffee shop, aimlessly sketching on a spread of your small sketchbook just hoping for a glance at Peter.

"She's at it again," you hear your friend whisper behind you in an attempt to make you jump, and so you fake a shoulder raise. Before your new found spidey-sense, you were a wreck: a klutz, nervous, anxious, you name it, you had it. Your gift of heightened sense was a blessing, but a curse. Especially your new heightened smell. You were not talking about passing by a city dumpster or walking through the urine filled city lines, but the real curse. Being able to smell Peter Parker from what seemed like miles away. He always smelled of his morning hazelnut cappuccino, clean laundry and an expensive cologne that you could only guess Tony Stark had gifted him years ago, and which he only wore on certain occasions. That occasion always seemed to be when you and Peter met up for your night patrols, or should you say, when Peter spends his nights with Y/H/N.

"And what could I possibly be doing," you asked, focusing on your sketchbook, your hand absentmindedly finding the ceramic coffee mug that sat in front of you. Raising it to your lips, you were surprised to find it empty, "damn," you whispered to yourself. You spoke to your friend with your signature, sarcastic tone. A tone which you lost as soon as you found Peter's company, falling into an embarrassed, stuttering mess. But when you were behind your mask, talking to Spider-Man was laced with new found confidence and flirting. You would be lying if you said you did not look forward to watching your classes breeze by in order to get to your rooftop dates with your masked crush.

"You're thinking about him," your friend teased, pushing a mug into your hands, making you smile, "He studies biophysics, just ask him for help in your intro bio class," your friend made asking your crush a simple question sound so easy.

"And why would an art major ask a biophysics major for help in a class they're being forced to take," you mumbled against the rim of your coffee, "that sounds like a disaster waiting to happen," you chuckled to yourself, "I hardly pay attention, I wouldn't even know any of the material if he said yes," you spoke over an oncoming migraine. Assuming it was from your lack of caffeine, you downed the rest of the coffee that sat in the white cup. Your preexisting, and crippling, caffeine addiction really helped with your late nights of crime fighting.

You were so distracted by your pounding head that you did not notice your friend smiling at someone who approached the counter behind you, "Y/N, I'm sure Peter would be glad to," she spoke, quite loudly, making you pick up your head, eyebrows furrowed.

"And what am I glad to do," Peter's voice filled your ears, making the hairs on your body stand on end. Now realizing your pounding headache was your spidey-sense warning you about Peter's close proximity. Until recently, Peter was the only Spider-Man, and there was a lot about both of your powers neither of you understood. Like Peter, you had heightened senses, and your powers were working overtime to tell you when he was near you.

You felt Peter rest a hand on the back of your chair, his hand brushing against the fabric of your button down shirt. The sudden contact made your heart beat rise, and you knew that Peter could sense it.

"Oh, Peter," Y/F/N smiled, "Y/N had to take an intro bio class this semester, since our department requires a few academic intro classes," her voice flowed so easily while talking to the handsome classmate, "and she'd be lost without some help, since it's almost finals," Y/F/N's smile widened as she noticed Peter's eyes always fell back towards you, "If you're free tonight, she really needs to start studying as soon as possible," Your eyes studied your sketchbook, your mug, anything besides Peter's chocolate, brown eyes. Studying the spread of your sketchbook, your heart stopped, finding a small sketch of Peter that sat on the bottom corner of the page. Quickly closing the sketchbook, you had no choice but to bring his gaze towards your eyes and hopefully not the small sketch of himself.

Turning your head, his eyes were waiting for you, "It is almost finals," you laughed nervously, "so I wouldn't be surprised if you were too busy to help me, you know," you heard your own words falling apart, "since you have finals and," you searched for anything to say besides the word Spider-Man, "crime," you felt your eyes squeeze shut as you mentally kicked yourself.

"Actually, helping you sounds like a lot of fun," Peter smiled, his eyes squinting. God, you loved how his eyes squinted when he smiled or laughed, "I can't predict crime, but I can try and predict what questions might be on your final," he joked and you wanted to laugh alongside your friend but he left you speechless, "I actually have to meet someone out tonight," a smile laced his words as you watched his eyes fall from your gaze.

You heard his heart rate increase and yours followed, realizing he was talking about you, or Y/H/N, "It's fine if you can't, really," you smiled softly, knowing no matter what you were seeing him tonight.

"You live off campus right," Peter questioned with a smile, it did not seem like he was waiting for an answer. Peter had seen you around off campus, around Manhattan, many times while he was patrolling the city. To be honest with himself, sometimes he swung by your apartment building to see if you were around. He would catch glimpses of you painting in your apartment from behind your white, floral lace curtains, "We can study at your apartment, that way you don't have to bring drag your books around the city,"

His smile was sweet and it made you weak at the knees, "Yeah," was all you could muster out as your head tried to wrap around how exactly he knew you lived off campus. You and Peter were definitely not strangers. Peter loved the arts and he showed up to as many opening receptions your campus's art gallery had. The two of you would make eye contact from across the gallery, peeking at each other around corners of the gallery's floating walls. Peter fascinated you long before you knew his name, which was now part of his hero identity, "Are you free at eight," you found yourself asking while still lost in your thoughts of him.

"Eight is perfect," Peter smiled, his words pulling your head out of the clouds and back down to earth, "You live across from that cemetery," he questioned almost confidently.

His question made your eyebrows furrow, a small smile crossed your lips, "You stalking me, Parker," finishing your sentence, you bit your tongue, you found yourself using Y/H/N's nickname for Peter, "Yeah that cemetery," you quickly muttered, unable to meet Peter's eyes, "I'll see you at eight," you attempted to speak over the sound of Peter's quickened heartbeat. You wanted to meet his gaze as he studied you, to look into his eyes, to look for a sliver of realization, but you could not.

Y/F/N's gaze bounced between the two of you. A thick cloud of nervousness filling the air, "Right," Peter nodded, not taking his eyes off of you, "I'll see you tonight, Y/N," he spoke before leaving your table. Your eyes followed him as he approached the counter, retrieving his hazelnut cappuccino in a to-go cup. Rubbing your temples, you threw your head back.

"What's up with you," Y/F/N asked, reaching across the table, she pushed on your shoulder, "he's going to be in your apartment," she smiled, "tonight, just the two of you," she watched as you gave her a fake smile.

"Yeah," you laughed, unable to tell her the real root of your worries, "I just, he," words passed through your lips as you thought of an excuse, "an art student who lives across from the cemetery, if he didn't already think I'm a freak, he'll sure as hell be skeptical now," your heartbeat quickened. How were you going to make sure Peter did not catch on to your secret identity?