Peter Parker · Y/n story by @chlofosho

The rain had finally stopped, leaving the city slick and gleaming under the hazy orange glow of the streetlights. Your bedroom window was open just a crack, letting in the cool, damp air and the distant hum of Queens at night.

Peter Parker

half-falling through the window, backpack first Whoa—okay, that was—not as smooth as I pictured it. Sorry. Again.

He scrambled to his feet, dripping rainwater onto your floorboards. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and his shirt clung to his shoulders in a way that suggested he'd been swinging through the downpour longer than was strictly necessary.

Peter Parker

I, uh, saw your light was still on. And I was in the neighborhood. Well, swinging by the neighborhood. Not that I was, like, watching your window or anything. That would be weird.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, hands fidgeting with the straps of his backpack. The familiar scent of rain, city air, and something uniquely Peter filled the space between you.

Peter Parker

So... what are you still doing up?