A small distance away, he heard it. The desperate call for help. A frightened scream that had him swinging ad leaping towards the source.
Swinging high above town, Peter found solace in losing himself to his crime-fighting instincts. Being Spider-Man for only a few months, he became the symbol of neighbourhood safety and support. Where the Avengers acted to save the entire world, he worked to help the little people. He knew what he meant to those people. People, many like himself before he had all this strength and power.
"You know, Pete, with great power comes great responsibility." His mouth quivered into a small smile at that. His Uncle Ben, father figure for most of his life, guiding him – even from the grave. His wise words found him again and again, and Peter gladly accepted the aid.
Reaching his destination, he stopped to assess the scene. As his responsibility, he also knew not to rush into anything too quickly, heeding Mr Stark – Tony's advice. From his view on top of the adjacent roof, he could spot two hostiles in the corner store. One had the gun pointed at the owner's head while the other ordered the cashier to fill the duffel with the cash from the register, a knife aimed at the young man. A classic hold-up.
Flipping in, he declared his appearance.
"Hey guys." Albeit his upbeat and charming attempt at a witty entrance, he couldn't inject his usual humour into his words.
As if snapping out of his trance, his gaze went from the cash to the hero.
"Well, well. Isn't it our very own friendly, neighbourhood Spider-Man." He grinned, his now uncovered face staring back at Peter's. "Come to join the festivities, I see."
At that, the villain aimed his pistol at the hero and let it bang. Already expecting the conflict, Spider-Man flipped out of the way and shot his webs at the assailants, immobilising them both with minimum effort and a successful landing on the counter. Securing the bag of riches with another web, he swung it at the young man, who easily caught it.
"Thanks, Spider-Man. Good to be able to count on you around here." The owner gratefully declared, nodding at the young hero.
"Anytime, sir." Bowing graciously, he flipped to the door. "And call the cops on these guys. Those webs should be able to hold them long enough. Have a nice night."
With another backflip, Peter swung himself out of the store, and across town, until he reached the roof of his apartment, the very same one he shared with his aunt May. The one he shared with Uncle Ben until his death.
Landing safely on the roof, Peter walked to the edge before sitting down, dangling his legs off. Pulling out his phone, he looked at his wallpaper. A casual selfie of himself, with you pushing his cheeks together, making him look – as you'd say, "oh so adorable." Checking his call log, he spotted the 13 missed calls and 24 messages, all from you.
He sighed, letting the cool night air rush around him, carrying his discarded breath away. Gazing over the skyline of his neighbourhood, he ripped his mask off, groaning audibly into his hands. Letting his worries out, he spoke to the moon.
"What do I do?" He knew that Uncle Ben might've had the answers, if he was still around.
"I know my responsibility – to this place. The people. To Aunt May. My power allows me to change the world around me for the better. I know my obligation as Spider-Man, but as Peter Parker... I don't know how to balance this." Risking a glance at his phone again, he saw you. He could nearly hear what advice you'd give him.
"Just go for it, dumbass. The last thing you want is to regret not doing something rather than regret taking the chance. And anyway, there's a small chance that it could all work out anyway, so there is a silver lining." The advice would be confined to that, with a shady comment to follow. "You're always so morbid, oh holy Saint Peter." He giggled at that thought.
Heeding your imagined advice, Peter let himself drop off the roof and dramatically swing towards you.
~•~
Reaching your abode, Peter sat at the open window, watching you bustle around your room. Although it was late enough for the neighbourhood to be sleeping, he knew that your habits let you sleep at the ungodly hours of the morning. It seemed that his own hectic, heroic schedule now matched yours.
Admiring you, Peter let out a quiet sigh, which gratefully went unnoticed. You were clad in an oversized white shirt, which rippled against your figure whenever you moved. At one point, you reached up to pull your hair into a loose bun, which flashed Peter a glance at your black panties, which had him blushing and coughing.
Although his sigh went unnoticed, his loud cough and exhale had you whirring towards the window, which showed only the lights of Queens shining in the distance.
Your suspicions at the source of the noise had you looking out over the windowsill. Although you didn't notice Peter hiding just beneath your gaze, you did notice the webbing hanging down from the wall, which finally had you looking down.
"Spider-Man!" Your surprise was obvious as you helped him up from his awkward position on the exterior of your building and into your room.
He continued coughing as he tumbled into the room. He finally spoke as he found his composure and sat down on the bed.
"Well..." The awkward silence that ensued was short-lived, as you had many questions for the famed webslinger.
"So, first things first. What in the frickin' hell were you doing lurking around?" You stood before him, hands on your hips, determined for a straight answer.
"Listen, Y/N, I kinda... have something to explain."
Hands still on hips, you replied. "Go on. Otherwise I might just keep thinking you're a peeping Tom or something." You paused. " Honestly, that could've been more believable if I wasn't living on the 13th floor of this building, but anyways..." Your flourish indicated the end of your rambling. You caught the gaze of his slightly horrified eyes.
Shaking his head, he banished the thought. "Jesus, no. And who would risk that?" The awkwardness returned as Peter caught how that sounded. He stood.
"Not saying that you're not gorgeous enough for a peeping... No, um... You're not unattractive or anything but... Um... Well, 13 stories is a long way to go for a girl... Wait, that came out wrong... Um..." His stammered words had you screeching with laughter.
"Sorry, Spidey. It was just a joke. A bad joke. Kinda just my twisted, crazy sense of humour." He moved, allowing you to walk over and park yourself on your desk, now directly across from the stammering superhero.
"Okay... Well... I'm..." His last words were muffled as he spoke. He needn't have repeated himself though, as he carefully removed his mask.
"Peter." Your gasp filled the room.
You found yourself standing in front of him, close enough to reach for him. And push him. Hard.
"Really? So this is what you do?!" Stepping back, you inhaled deeply.
Your back faced him now, your mind racing and your heart aching.
"Who else knows?"
"No one." He rushed forward, his soft words reached your ears as his hands, still gloved, cupped your face. His eyes met yours, holding your attention in his multicoloured orbs of brown. "I didn't want the added burden, but I knew that if I did this, I would have to tell you."
You stared back. "Do what, Peter?" You moved a hand to hold his against your face.
"This."
You couldn't comprehend what was happening. It all hit you at once.
His breath hitting your face. You both moving closer together. The moonlight shining in, making his eyes brighter and glitter in the night. His covered hands bringing your lips closer.
His hair dipping down onto his forehead. Your breathing changing just before you made contact. Your lips meeting his. Softly, at first. Then, you breathe. You meet again. This time, his desperation making you feel his passion. You returning that passion with your hands. In his hair. On his jaw. On his neck. Pressing his shoulders. Travelling down his back. Sitting just above his rear.
Him meeting your desperation with his own ways. Pressing you against the desk. Back arching unforgivingly, but your ignorance towards it hides the discomfort. His hands in your hair, mussing it up from its previously brushed state. His hands cupping your face delicately, as if nothing matters more in that moment than you.
You break apart for the sweet relief of oxygen. Your lips still tingle, as if your kiss was as magical as you imagined. As if fireworks had gone off.
"Y/N..."
"Peter, you're crying."
Your observation proved correct. He'd stepped back, now against the wall, tears silently falling. You enveloped him in your arms, hoping you made him feel as protected as he made you in those previous moments.
"I'm okay, really." You both slid down the wall. Huddling and cuddling, he spoke, his voice just soft enough for the bitter breeze of the night to carry it.
"Uncle Ben died, and I feel like he burdened me. I know he didn't give me these abilities, but he was my guardian. I looked up to him. I always hoped he'd be proud of me. I guess I'll never know. I hope he was. But some of his greatest words before he died have led me to this point. He used to say, "with great power comes great responsibility". I never really took it to heart, you know? But since receiving such great power, I now have that great responsibility. To protect the people. To protect those I love. And I know that Spider-Man puts everyone else before himself, but I don't know if Peter Parker can do the same."
You turned, so moved by his utter trust of you. You cupped his head in your hands.
"Peter Parker, the martyr." You giggled at that, kissing his forehead.
"Peter, you need to know that you can't control anyone else's actions - only your own. I am honoured by you telling me, but don't be worried. I see how this is pressuring you to be the very best you can be, and I encourage that. But everyone needs someone. Family, friends... A confidant. So if you need anything, anything at all, you have me."
You pressed a kiss to his lips.
"You'll always have me."