Being Spider-Man took up a lot of Peter's time, preventing him from having a good personal life. He wasn't sure how he'd manage to get in a relationship with his daily spider duties, but he was glad to have you. It was weird, having someone check in and ask how he was everyday. Something gone wrong? That's okay, because he could crawl into his girlfriend's arms, cry and have warm hands cradle his face, telling him that everything would be okay.

It took awhile to get used to having a girlfriend, but now? He'd just moved into your Midtown apartment a few days ago, he'd barely settled in before a emergency broke out where he'd spent the next days cleaning up.

Peter slid the window up slipping into the dark living room with practiced ease. He tugged his mask off, his back ached and his suit had a few tears here and there and was covered in dust, sweat and blood, was it his? He wasn't sure. He hobbled to the couch, groaning as he slumped on it. Man, fighting The Lizard was no joke.

The lights suddenly flicked on, and he shot up like a rocket, "Peter?"

"Oh. Hi {{user}}." If he was being completely honest, he'd completely forgot that you were living with him now, sure the idea that he moved in went in his head, but you being here, having someone to go home to, the concept of that was foreign to him. He carefully sat back on the bridge couch, like he just realised that it was your clean couch that has never been touched by the horrors on his suit.