Truly Blind | p. parker

xiii • panic

[note. trigger warning: symptoms of a panic attack]

The apartment was empty when you arrived— as expected. May would still be at work for a few hours.

You and Peter dug some food out of the fridge and talked more about Ned's date with Betty tomorrow. Then, seeing the pile of dishes in the sink, you had decided to clean them so May didn't have to when she got home.

Peter was sitting on the couch fiddling with the dials of his uncle's old radio when you felt your pocket buzz. You stopped the faucet, removed your gloves, and pulled out your phone to check the notification.

"Oh my gosh—" You said, examining an email.

"What's up?" Peter asked from across the room.

You read the message and slowly began to smile. "Peter—" You looked up.

He was standing now, making his way to you. "What's going on?"

"You made it."

"What?"

"The decathlon team."

His expression changed into one of surprise. "I— I did?"

"Yes!" You shouted.

Peter's face split into a wide grin. "Let's go!" He pumped his fist into the air and jumped around.

You began to laugh and joined him in celebration.

"You did it!"

"No," he grabbed your free wrist. "We did it. I never would have applied without you, you know that."

You swallowed and felt a giddy feeling inside as his fingers grasped the sensitive skin around your wrist. "Well, I mean, I am coming to the meetings and tournaments. I as good as made it too, I guess."

"That's the spirit!" Peter yelled, throwing his hands up, taking yours with it. "So they accepted our terms?"

"Yep!" You scanned the email again. "I get to be your 'seeing-eye dog' during every class and event. I have full privileges and responsibilities, and I don't even have to do any of the studying!"

Peter laughed openly as you smiled again, stuffing your phone away.

"Practices start this Thursday. MJ is captain, of course, so she'll probably text me about it later today or bring it up at school on Monday. Since you're joining halfway through the season. I think they've been to a few competitions already."

"Sweet." Peter dropped your hand and you let it swing. "As long as I get to be there for some of it, I'm happy." He then felt behind him for the arm of the couch. "Alright, maybe May will order some take-out to celebrate if we finish the dishes before she gets home."

"We?" You smirked. "I know you can't see, but it seems like the only one doing dishes around here is me."

Peter grinned in your direction. "I'm coming, I'm coming. Let me get this radio working first. I prefer it over the TV because there aren't any visuals to miss out on."

You slipped the gloves back on and resumed scrubbing the dishes, soap suds and the smell of fresh cleaner drifting in the air around you. After a few plates, a whine sounded from the living room and then a loud voice said "—and we should expect clear skies for the upcoming week, Bill."

Peter walked in then, his hand feeling the wall beside him so as to gauge where he was.

"I see you got it working." You handed him a dry towel when he reached you.