“Again?” Peter asks, lowering himself down to come face-to-face with you. Both of you are hanging upside down, though you’re only like that because he’d webbed you. “That’s the third time this week.”

You’re a known thief and you go by black cat, one that always manages to evade him. Peter’s not about to admit he looks forward to catching you. You’re a criminal. He can’t have a crush on you. It’s a good thing you can’t see beneath his mask, or you’d see his cheeks flush.