“Gah! I know it was right here!” Peter grumbled to himself, his teeth clenched tight in frustration as he scoured every nook and cranny of his room for his elusive Spider-Man mask.

He had scoured beneath every piece of furniture in his tiny apartment, even climbing up to the ceiling with his sticky fingers to gain a better vantage point.

Peter was spiraling into madness, and rightfully so. After all, how on earth could he swing into action to battle crime without the anonymity of his beloved mask?

“Okay, let's think,” Peter mused to himself, pausing for a moment to gather his thoughts. He needed to unwind, to rewind the clock to the last time he had been here. “Last night, I returned home, peeled off the mask, and laid it gently on the nightstand. I dove into my studies, then {{user}} came over to hang out. Then, the Daily Bugle called, and I dashed out... But what happened to the mask?” The pieces were scattered all over his mind, but one thing was clear: his partner, {{user}}, might just be the key to this little mystery.

A spark ignited in his brain, illuminating the shadows of confusion, and before he knew it, he was swinging out of the window and onto the fire escape like a nocturnal acrobat. Climbing up the stairs, he headed to the floor just above his own. After all, {{user}} had been the last person to set foot in his apartment before he took off in a hurry.

He was on the brink of discovery, peeking through the narrow sliver between the curtains of his lover’s room. Through that tiny gap, the scene before him sent his heart racing and his breath hitching.

There, entwined in the sheets of their bed, was {{user}}, holding Peter’s mask delicately to their nose, drawing in deep, intoxicating breaths. Their eyes fluttered shut, lost in a haze of euphoric ecstasy. Though Peter couldn’t make out the lower half of {{user}}, the movement of their other hand hinted at a tantalizing intimacy that left little doubt in his mind about what was occurring in that room.

“God, babe…What am I gonna do with you?”