Work Text:
After waiting for Peter to get back from whatever it was he needed to do for an hour, you get up and collect your books, making you way out of the library and to your car. Quickly making your way to your car, ready to relax at your place, you don’t notice anything amiss until you get to the spot you parked.
Where. The fUCK. Is my car. You look around, livid over the fact that some fucking stole your car when you spot the familiar shape of it a few parking spaces over. Your eyes widen in surprise and you make a mad dash for it. Eyes running over the exterior for anything unusual, happy that you don’t see anything major wrong with it, and you quickly make your way to the driver’s side and unlock your door. You dive in the second you get the door open to see if anything was stolen and see a note taped to the steering wheel.
Sorry for borrowing your car, I had to use it real quick. There’s no damage, and I promise nothing was stolen – your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man
More like friendly neighborhood jackass.
You take another, closer, look at the note, feeling like there was something familiar about it. After wracking your brain for an answer, you have a ridiculous thought. Is that Peter’s handwriting?
You set your backpack on your lap, opening it up to look for something that had Peter’s handwriting on it, knowing you had something with his handwriting in there. Letting out a shout of triumph, you take out an English paper of Peter’s that you had to go through for grammatical mistakes with him today and compare his handwriting with Spider-Man’s note.
After flipping back and forth between the two, you slowly lift your head and stare out the window; feeling like this was the last puzzle piece as everything clicked into place.
That little shit!
You shook your head in disbelief as you tried to comprehend the fact that your best friend was Spider-Man. It took you a minute to realize how long Spider-Man had been around, but when you did, you stomach dropped. Oh mY gOD. He became Spider-Man when he was fifteen!
You were going to have a serious talk with your friend, Peter Parker, when you saw him next.
--
A couple hours had passed since you found out Pete was Spider-Man and you spent those two hours thinking about everything Peter had gone through, finally stopping when the jerk decided to call you. After jumping from the sudden noise of your phone ringing, you picked it up, already knowing who it was.
“Hello, Peter. I hope you’re okay. I only waited for an hour and a half for you to at least text me, but it’s fine,” You say, voice layered with sarcasm. Of course, you now know why he had to, but were unable to not give him shit for it.
“Uh, yeah, I’m really sorry about that, Y/N. Something urgent came up. Listen, I was wondering if I could come by your place in like 20 minutes? I thought we could hangout since I had to cut our study session short earlier.”
“Have at it, dude, you know I have nothing else planned. I cannot wait to tell you what happened to me after you left.” Chuckling, you head to the kitchen to see if there’s anything good to eat in the kitchen.
“Oh, what happened? Are you okay?” Peter demands, thinking that something bad happened to you after you left.
“Pssh, I’m fine! I’ll tell you all the juicy details when you get here. Bye!” You hear Peter start to say something, but hang up, smirking, and set your phone down to look through your fridge. After a minute of searching, you grab some food and head to the couch, settling down with a sigh, and turn on the tv to find something you and Peter would want to watch while you wait for him to get to your place.
--
20 minutes later you’ve eaten your food and are dividing your attention between the screen and your phone, when you hear a knock at your door. You get up and open the door and find Peter lightly hoping from foot to foot with a worried expression.
“Hey, Peter! C’mon in you dork.” You slide to the side and smile at him as he walks in. You’ve barely closed the door when you feel a tug on your shirt. You glance over and raise an eyebrow at Peter, waiting for him to ask you a question.
“What happened?” He asks, nervously biting his lip. Your heart goes soft at the look he’s giving you and you can’t help but smile tenderly at him. You grab his hand and gently squeeze it before walking to the kitchen once again to get some water for the both of you. The innocence in that question both confused and amused you. Did he not realize you’d be upset, well amused now, about the car? You watched Peter’s expressions from the corner of your eye as you started talking, hoping his reactions would further prove your theory.
“Well, I had just gathered all my books and everything and headed to my car to head home, you know, as you do, but ended up having a heart attack because my car was not in the spot I parked it.” You weren’t disappointed. The second you mentioned your car Peter’s face went pale with panic.
You turn and fill the cups up with water as you continue telling your story.
“But, it’s okay!! After looking around the parking lot in disbelief for a few minutes, I realized my car was only a few parking spaces away from me! Which, thank God. My parents would’ve killed me. Anyway,” You say, turning towards his very fake nonchalant self, handing him his water, “So I get to my car, unlock it, and what do I see? A note from a very famous dude. Spider-Man, in fact. You know him, right?” You smirk, fighting to hold back laughter, as you watch Peter scramble for an answer. You don’t give him time, though, going for the final part that’ll blow his cover.
“You know, there was one thing dear old Spider-Man forgot to check. You see, it’s awesome that he left a note- I’m not sure why he’d take a car when he can swing from his webs- that’s just my opinion- but Spider-Man probably forgets from time to time that people can recognize things that they’ve continuously seen for, oh, I don’t know, a few years?” You stare at Peter with a shit eating grin, “And Peter, I recognized the handwriting. You might wanna look into printing them out? So people don’t recognize the handwriting?”
Peter stands there, eyes wide with shock, as he processes what you just said. It takes him a minute, but he shakes it off, already admitting defeat.
“You caught me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was Spider-Man, but I wanted-”
You stop the start of what you know would be a rambling mess by putting your cup on the counter and placing your hands on his shoulders, “Peter, it’s fine! I’m not mad. Well, I mean I was a bit miffed you didn’t tell me at first, but I’ve thought about it the entire two hours of knowing, and have come to realize you probably did it to protect me. Which is sweet as hell by the way.” Smiling softly at Peter, watching him slightly nod his head, showing that he understood, you wait until Peter’s body had lost some of the tension before dropping your hands.
“You want to go sit on the couch and see what’s on tv?” You ask, already knowing the answer. Peter nods and takes a sip of water, following you to the living room.
After about 30 minutes of watching some tv show you hear Peter ask:
“So…. Where do you think I could get notes like that printed?”