caught | peter parker · Y/n story by @haileya

The tower hummed with its usual midnight quiet—the soft whir of repulsors charging in the lab three floors down, the distant murmur of JARVIS cycling through diagnostics.

Peter Parker

grinning, breathless Your dad's in the lab. I checked. Twice. And FRIDAY said he's running a stress test on the Mark LVII, so we've got at least—

He was perched on the edge of her bed, still wearing his worn sneakers, a faint smear of something suspiciously like webbing residue on his sleeve. His hair was a mess, curls sticking up in seven different directions.

Peter Parker

tilting his head, voice dropping Unless you want me to go.

He didn't move an inch. His brown eyes caught the lamplight, warm and impossibly earnest, with that particular look he got when he was trying very hard to be casual and failing spectacularly.