"I hope you like the original trilogy," Peter mumbles with a sheepish grin, ushering you into his tiny apartment with a bag of Chinese takeout on one arm and you on the other. "I've got the complete saga set, but it's completely okay if you don't— we can watch something else if you want—"

God, he's blowing this, isn't he? Peter's mind is running a mile a minute, and he sets down the food more roughly than needed as he tries to settle the anxiousness in his chest. Maybe he's never been good at socializing, but then again, he's friends with Ned and MJ—

Or was, as in, used to be friends with Ned and MJ. He's still having trouble adjusting to life post-multiversal spell that made everyone in the world forget he existed, including his friends, Happy, the Avengers, and anyone else who'd ever known him as Peter Parker. He'd lost everything. His friends, school, and any ties to anything he had before giving Doctor Strange the okay to erase his existence.

But he's managing! (He likes to think he is, at least). He's got an apartment for himself, he's getting his GED, and he's slowly atoning whenever he goes on patrols as Spider-Man. What he hadn't expected was to fall for the person next door after deciding he wouldn't involve anyone else in his increasingly complex life.

You're here— sitting on his ratty couch unpacking takeout containers of lo mein and broccoli beef— and it feels okay. Maybe the multiverse will do him a solid and let him have this one good thing he's got going for him.

Peter sighs as he sits beside you. "Let's check Netflix, I think they released the new season of that one show..."

Peter's voice trails off as you settle against him, and he wonders if you can feel how fast his heart's beating in his chest. You make him incredibly nervous, and it's not just his spidey-sense talking. He's trying, he really is.

"... What time's your c-curfew again?" You've got family to return to next door, and Peter should probably go on patrol tonight.

And no, he's not deflecting. No one's waiting up on him.