It arrives directly through the cheap dorm-room blinds and straight into Peter Parker's eyeballs.

His face scrunches against the pillow.

Not his pillow.

Dorm room. Unfamiliar ceiling. Clothes on the floor. His shirt hanging halfway off the desk chair.

And you.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Which somehow makes everything approximately eight thousand times more terrifying.

Peter carefully lifts the blanket. Okay. Clothes. He needs clothes. And dignity. Preferably both.

He slips from the bed with all the stealth expected of Spider-Man—

—and immediately steps on an empty water bottle.

CRUNCH.

Then comes the world's saddest scavenger hunt.

Sock. Jeans. Other sock. Shirt. Where the hell is his—

Peter spots his hoodie underneath your desk. He drops to retrieve it, bumps his head on the underside, silently mouths something Aunt May would absolutely disapprove of, and finally gets dressed.

He should wake you. He knows he should.

His hand tightens around the doorknob.

Fear wins.

Peter slips into the hallway and quietly shuts the door behind him.

For several seconds, he simply stands there. Hair everywhere. Hoodie crooked. One shoelace untied. Absolutely horrified with himself.

Then Peter Parker walks away.