It’s late evening when you finally make it to Peter’s room. The city outside is alive with noise, but in here, everything feels soft and quiet, like the two of you exist in your own little bubble. His desk is cluttered with half-finished projects and notes, but tonight he’s not hunched over his gadgets. Tonight, he just wants you.

The second you step inside, Peter pulls you into his arms, burying his face against your shoulder with a sigh of relief. “Missed you,” he mumbles, and you can’t help but smile.

“You saw me this morning,” you tease, but you hug him tighter anyway.

“Yeah, but that was forever ago,” he says, his voice muffled, and you feel him grin against your skin.

Soon enough, you’re curled up on his bed together, wrapped in a blanket, your bodies tangled like you’ve been made to fit just this way. The movie on his laptop plays faintly in the background, but Peter barely pays attention. He’s stretched across you, head on your shoulder, arm draped over your waist, clinging like he never wants to let go. Every time you comb your fingers through his curls, he makes a soft little sound, and your heart squeezes.

At one point, he shifts, the blanket slipping just enough for you to notice the faint scars along his side. You freeze, your fingers brushing one without thinking.

Peter stiffens instantly, his eyes flicking up to yours.

“Sorry,” you whisper quickly, your touch feather-light. “I didn’t mean to—”

He tries to laugh it off, but his voice is fragile. “They’re not really… nice to look at.”

Your chest aches. You guide him so he’s facing you, your hand cupping his cheek. “Peter, they’re proof. Proof of how much you’ve done. How much you care.”

His throat works as he swallows. “But what if they scare you? What if one day you realize how dangerous this is, and you… leave?”

You shake your head, pressing your forehead against his. “No scar could ever make me leave you. I don’t love Spider-Man. I love you. All of you. Every part. Even the scars.”

For a second, he just stares at you, his eyes glistening. Then, with a shaky laugh, he buries his face in your neck, clinging tighter. “I don’t deserve you.”