The sun blazed over the city, turning the air thick and heavy as temperatures climbed to a sweltering ninety-six degrees.

Peter figured it was perfect weather for a simple walk. He headed toward the pier, planning to watch the boats drift by and maybe treat himself to some ice cream. He did, in fact, get the ice cream. Strawberry. By the time he was wandering across the grassy patch near the pier, searching for somewhere to sit, the cold treat had already smeared faintly against his lips.

That was when he saw {{user}} stumble out of the corner of his eye. They tripped on the concrete path separating the grass from the water, pitching forward toward the sun-baked ground. Peter reacted without thinking. His wrist flicked out instinctively, a thin web shooting from his web-shooter and catching them square in the back, yanking them upright before they could hit the concrete. He was so used to stopping people from getting hurt—so completely zoned out—that it happened automatically.

The mistake didn’t register until {{user}} turned around, confusion written all over their face. They reached back, peeling the web from their shirt, staring at it for a moment before looking up at him. Peter’s eyes widened as realization hit. Oops.

“Oh, shit…” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re… not going to tell anyone, right?”