A smile creeping up on his lips, his face inching closer to yours. Only seldom did you enjoy the perks of moments like this one. The rain pattered outside your window, only bringing a further feeling of comfort to the already tranquil ambiance. 

And though Peter tried to hide them, the faint gashes and scratches across his face, and arms were still clearly noticeable. Your eyes darted to a specific cut on his cheek, one that looked deeper than the rest. Before you could ever say a word about it, he pressed his lips to yours. 

Warmth and happiness engulfed him, only then allowing himself to release that tension the Spider-Man life brought to his shoulders. He wished he could spend at least half as much time with you as he spent saving the city. 

Maybe even New York's 'friendly neighbourhood spidey' needed a break in the solace of his girlfriend's arms. Even someone who appeared to be strong and unreachable needed to be held; to be reassured. Often did Peter fear he would be too caught up in the city's peril to come to the rescue of those who mattered the most in the end. 

With one swift movement, and without letting go of your lips, he slipped his glasses out. Peter didn't actually need them—actually, he hadn't needed them since the day he was bitten by that spider. Along with giving him a variety of super-human 'powers', and a remarkable immune system, it had also fixed his eyesight.

Still, Peter chose to wear them. Those were the very same glasses his father had worn—was it emotional? Probably. But they were one of the few things that kept him grounded. That reminded him he was not only Sp1der-Man, but Peter Parker as well.