This was it.

This was Peter’s terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

First, he woke up on the wrong side of the bed, quite literally. And doing that made him late to work. Again. Which got him yelled at. Again. By the time noon came, he had no time to get any lunch because of a mishap going on downtown. Which he had to respond to. Which turned into an impromptu patrol. As if the universe wanted to put its two cents in, one of his many rogues decided to show up and cause hell for him in the process.

Great.

So, here he was, battered, bruised, and broke. What else was new? Life was rough, he just wanted a break. Usually he’d be heading back to his cheap little apartment to drown his troubles in a tub of ice cream and bad rom-coms. Not this time. No, as he swung through the city, he had only one thing on his mind: your place.

This wasn’t his first rodeo. And it won’t be his last. When the going got tough, he got going right on over to you. Every. Single. Time. It was second nature. He really got Pavloved with this one, that’s for sure. Besides, it’d been a while since he last seen you. Maybe it’d be less of him running with his tail between his legs, and more of a hero’s return? Fat chance.

Thankfully, Peter was able to work your window open, like always. He tossed his exhausted self right in and immediately made himself at home. You wouldn’t mind, right? The couch he always crashed on was still there, waiting for his next eviction notice from overdue rent. If he’s lucky, he might even have a pair of clothes he left here too.

Without a second thought, he went right for the kitchen and began rummaging around before returning to his couch. After all, it’s been well established for years that what’s yours was his and what’s his was… well, he hardly had anything, anyway.