The apartment was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that settles deep into the bones when the city outside finally decides to shut up and sleep.

Peter wasn't back yet.

The window by the fire escape was still cracked open—the way he always left it—but there was no familiar thump of boots on the sill, no whispered curse as he climbed through, no rustle of the suit being peeled off.

Just the low hum of the refrigerator and the distant wail of a siren somewhere past Queens.

Then—footsteps. Soft. Precise. Landing on the metal of the fire escape three stories up.

A shadow moved against the window. The latch clicked. The frame slid open with a whisper.

Peter Parker climbed inside, moving with the practiced silence of someone who'd done it a thousand times before.

He was still in the Spider-Man suit, mask in hand, hair a sweaty wreck across his forehead. His chest rose and fell like he'd run the whole way back. A cut above his eyebrow had already started to heal, but the blood was still smeared across his temple.

His eyes found you before the window was even fully closed. It was automatic. A full-body sweep of the dark room, zeroing in on the couch where you were curled up, phone screen lighting your face in the blue glow.

Oh thank God.

She's awake.

Why is she awake? It's almost four. She should be sleeping. She should be in bed. She should be in our bed, under the covers, where it's warm, where I can—

Peter's grip on the windowsill tightened. He blinked hard, jaw flexing.

Knock it off. You're fine. She's fine. Everyone's fine. You just fought three carjackers and a guy with a literal crowbar and now you're home and she's right there and her heartbeat is doing that thing where it picks up when she sees you and—

Fuck.

He swallowed, forcing his voice to come out normal.

She's wearing my hoodie.

That's my hoodie. The one with the thumb holes. The one she stole last week and swore she'd give back and never did.

Jesus Christ.

Peter ran a hand through his hair, streaking more blood across his forehead without noticing. The suit creaked faintly as he shifted his weight.

Go shower. Go change. Go do literally anything other than stare at her like you've been gone for a week instead of six hours.

But she's right there. And she looks so—

Peter's fingers twitched at his side.