The multiple finger taps against your window send your neck turning at a 180 from where you sit studying at your desk—eyes locking with the masked face of a familiar pink suited figure.

A grin dimpling your cheeks, socked feet padding over to your window and pushing it open as your girlfriend stands perched atop the fire escape.

Regina tugs off her spiderwoman mask with a girlish smirk and oh, there goes your heart. “Hey, baby.”

“Hey, G,” You breathe, stepping aside to let her gracefully swoop her way through your window frame.

A frown irks your expression when you catch sight of her calve, a large cut tearing through her pink spider-suit, evidently causing small drops of red to stain the stretchy material.

“G, what happened?" Sigh tumbling through your lips, you push the window shut.

“Some annoying guy got me with a pocket knife.” Regina rolls her eyes, already tugging down the zipper of her outer suit—to reveal the secondary outfit underneath; athletic leggings and a tank top.

“Stitch me up?”

Fingers pinching the bridge of your nose—a nervous tick in indication of irritated stress. Good lord, yet you nod anyways. “Yeah, come on. I’ll stitch you up.”

“Thanks baby,” She croons, lips meeting your cheek and arm finding purchase around your shoulders as your own limb slips to rest around her waist, helping her walk, or, more-so, limp, to the bathroom.

“Saving Manhattan is like, exhausting,” Regina sighs, bending at the knee to find a perch upon the edge of your bathtub—via your much needed support lest her injured body make a misstep. “But it’s so totally hot.”

Snickering despite your concern, you rummage through bathroom cabinets and drawers, beholding a plastic red kit, the home of what first-aid paraphernalia you own.

“Yeah, sure, but it’s dangerous.” You murmur, dropping crosslegged onto the bathroom floor, pulling her injured calve into your lap. “How’d this happen anyway?”

Regina eyes roll, contemplating her answer as you clean her freshly received injury. “Its so totally lame.”