Lyla's POV

"Lyla." I heard Peter whisper. I try to turn and look at him, but his arms are around me. He's dead asleep, so there's dead weight on me. I sigh. Then I attempt to wiggle out of his hold. But it doesn't work. I try to move his arms, but then remember that he's covered in wounds. "Lyla." He whispers again. I groan and attempt to fall back asleep.

Then, Peter jerks up. "Where am I?" He asks.

"You're at my place. Are you alright?" I ask.

He starts to rub his neck. "Ouch." He whispers. "Sorry."

"It's fine, Peter." I say as I get up from my bed.

"I mean, I remember everything that happened to me. Gwen and I breaking up. Me getting hurt. Your head." He walks in front of me and moves my mane of brown hair. "Does it hurt?"

I laugh. "Peter, your whole body is covered in cuts and scrapes and bruises. I have a small cut on my forehead, and you're more worried about that."

He sighs and removes his hand from my head. "I'm just not used to it."

"It's a simple cut, Peter. It'll heal by the end of the week."

He throws himself on my bed. "No! Not that. You, Lyla. I'm not used to you helping me. You knowing about the other part of me. Gwen, she always knew. She always took care of me." He started to ramble on.

So I sat next to him. Put my head on his shoulder. "Peter, you'll be fine."

"Lyla, I broke up with Gwen. She knows about-"

I place my finger on his lips. "If she truly loves you, she won't tell anyone." He nods.

"Lyla." He said.

"Hmmm?"

"Can you move your finger?"

I stare at him then notice that my finger was still there. I felt heat go up to my cheeks. And I just laugh it off.

"Lyla Marie Stark." He mutters. "You will be the death of me."

I smile. "Its a damn good thing it's a Saturday."

He smiles as well. "Can you take me home?"

I sigh.

"Just so I can get new clothes, Lyla."

I smile. "Let me go to your place. Get some clothes. And you just stay here and rest."

"Fine."


After saying goodbye to Peter's aunt, I walk out onto the exposed streets of New York. But as I walked out, I saw Gwen.

"Lyla!" She yelled.

I took a deep breath as I prepared for what hell was going to come from this. "Hello, Gwen."

She pushed me. "You told him."

I replanted my feet. "Told who what?"

"God damn you Lyla. I trusted you."

"You broke him." I spat. "If you loved him, you wouldn't have done that!"

"I didn't want to." She whispered.

"But you did. Now he knows. Gwen, I'm sorry. But I have to go."

I started to wave for a taxi.

"Is he with you?" She asks. She looks down at the ground.

"Yes." I say as a taxi pulls up the curb. "Goodbye, Gwen." I say.


I sigh as I go back to my apartment. I hear the sound of water boiling and bread baking. Peter Parker was one hell of a cook.

I inhale deeply. "What's this I smell?" I open to door all the way to see Clint and Nat sitting at my kitchen table.

"The smell you smell is" Peter said. "Why the fuck did you call your dad."

I sigh and put the backpack down. "I was worried, Peter!"

Nat and Clint sat there, just looking at the polka dotted coffee cups.

"Lyla, I'm fine." He continues. He found a shirt, thank god for that.

"Lyla, he handled himself nicely. Why did you call us?" Nat said.

"Because he's Peter!" I explain.

He looks at me then looks down and smiles.

"He's all I have here." I look at him. "He brings out a side of me that I didn't know existed."

"She's in love with him." I hear Clint whisper.

Peter heard it, too. He looked at me and smiled. But continued to stir whatever was in the sliver pot.

"Are you two going to stay for dinner?" I ask.

Nat looks at Clint. "Way to change subjects, Ly." She says.

"Yes, we will be. I'm a sucker for Mac and Cheese." Clint says.

Peter gets out the plates and serves us each some Mac and Cheese with garlic bread. I had a real meal with two assassins that didn't have to leave in the middle of it. Or talk about how far the guy's dead head blew.

This was nice. This was peaceful. This is not what I'm used to. But this is how it is. And I like like this.