"Peter," I murmur, resting my head against his shoulder. "You'll be more careful, won't you?"

"Careful? Now where's the fun in that?" He laughs, adjusting the gauntlet with his webshooter.

I pull back. "Mr. Parker," I say sternly. "Peter Benjamin Parker. I fully expect your cooperation in this matter. I need you to make it back to me."

He squirms a little, takes off his hood, and squints at me against the assaulting backdrop of the setting sun.

"I'll always make it back to you." He makes the promise earnestly, warm, gloved hands slipping down to envelop mine. His dark eyes catch the sun, and it outlines a flash of copper in his unruly hair. His gaze is steady, intense, but he chooses to lighten the mood. "But c'mon, you sound like May."

"Be that as it May," I smirk, "You know I have your best interests at heart, Spider Boy."

He groans at the terribleness of the pun, but only has one comment. "Spider-man."

I look sideways at him and smile.

...