Chapter 7

Peter knew you were on your way to his apartment. He'd been swinging around town, doing a general patrol, checking in on this Jamie girl in case there was anything new (there wasn't), when he spotted you leaving the club and marching down the street. He could hear the anger in your huffing breaths, your feet stomping almost in time with your thudding heart, and he wondered what had happened. Once he realised you were marching towards his place, he quickly swung to his window, and rushed to rid himself of his suit, throwing on some different clothes as he heard you knocking on the door.

Now, he was standing in front of you, trying to control his heavy breathing, and waiting for you to say something.

"I'm sorry. I know it's late." You said.

"It's no problem!" He squeaked, moving to the side and letting you in. You walked through the door and heard him shut it behind you. "You...have you been out?"

You turned to face him, and saw him looking you up and down. You looked down at yourself, realising that he was taking in your shorter than normal fitted dress and black heels, the straps snaking around your ankles. You looked back at him and saw a little pink on his cheeks.

"Yeah, with ..." You trailed off as you realised what you were so angry about, what you'd come here for. "Do you have anything to drink?" You asked, but heading to his kitchen before he could even respond. He always kept some beers in the fridge, and you grabbed one, taking the Millenium Falcon bottle opener off the front of the fridge and opened it. Peter watched in silence as you gulped half the bottle down.

"Is something wrong?" He finally asked as you took the bottle from your lips to take a deep breath.

"Ha! Is something wrong, isn't that the question?" You scoffed, running a hand through your hair. "Adam's an asshole. That's what's wrong."

"What did he do?" He asked, concern clouding his face as he walked towards you.

"He's just an asshole. Has he always been an asshole? Did I just not notice it before all this?!" Your voice was getting louder as you spoke, but you did nothing to stop it. "I thought we were having a nice night, for once just having fun, then he went and...UGH!"

You walked around Peter to his sofa, falling onto it and drinking more of your beer. He followed you, sitting carefully beside you, turning his body so that he was facing you. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back.

"I'm sorry for barging in." You whispered once you had collected yourself a little. Then you had to open your eyes as your head started swimming a little from the drinks. "I just...he said some things that were so unlike him, and I just didn't expect it. His friends didn't either!" You said as you shifted around until you were cross legged and facing him as well. "They were just like 'what is going on' and I didn't know what else to do other than leave!"

"What did he say?"

"It doesn't matter." You waved your hand in the air, and felt your body sway a little from the movement. "What matters is that Adam doesn't say those things, ever! Not to me, not to my face anyway. But apparently he does a lot of things not to my face lately so-"

Peter suddenly grabbed your face, making you focus on him. You blinked a couple of times.

It reminded you of the car. He was so close. Your eyes roamed over his face, his freckles, the scar on his eyebrow, his wide eyes so full of worry, his really nice lips wrapping around his words as he spoke.

"What did he say to you?" He repeated, fully aware of your drunk eyes on him, but needing to know what Adam did. You licked your dry lips before answering.

"He said 'don't be a slut'." You whispered.

Peter felt the anger flash through him.

"I was talking to other people and I guess he thought that meant-"

"No, Luka." He interrupted. "No one should ever call you that, ever. Regardless of what they thought."

"I think he was drunk and-"

"You're drunk, and you're not calling me a slut, are you?"

You knew he said it to make a point, but the idea of Peter being a slut made you giggle. Loudly. He frowned.

"I'm sorry." You stuttered as you continued to giggle. "I don't think you could ever be a slut."

"Thanks? I think."

"I mean, maybe, I don't know your dating history. But I haven't seen you with anyone since I've known you."

Peter swallowed. There was a reason for that. And the reason was sitting right in front of him at that very moment. He took his hands off your face when he realised that he was still holding you. They felt very clammy all of a sudden.

"Do you date?" You asked.

"What?"

"Do you date? I haven't seen you date. Maybe you're just very secretive." You winked ludicrously at him, and he breathed in slowly.

"I've dated."

"Who? Why haven't I met them?" You said, excitedly trying to get more information on your friend, leaning forward and resting your hand on his legs.

"I ...haven't dated ...recently." He explained, slowly prising your hands off his thighs. He couldn't handle you this close, drunk, and touching him.

"Why? You're gorgeous! You should be dating everyone!" You cried out, gripping his hands, not noticing that he had been trying to remove them from his legs. "I think if I didn't have a boyfriend, I'd wanna date you." You added in a whisper.

Peter's mouth went dry instantly.

"You know what, maybe we should. I'll dump Adam, we'll start dating, it'll be great! We'll just talk about comic books and Star Wars and make pancakes and shit!" Your eyes lit up as you rambled, while Peter's body was frozen in panic. He knew that this was just drunk chat, that you weren't actually suggesting this, but he didn't know how to stop you, and part of him was screaming for him not to stop you.

"Luka I, that's very nice but-"

"But nothing, I will make cookies too." You grinned, before leaning closer to him. "And we can just make out, and eat snacks, and not worry about anything else."

Jesus fucking christ, he thought.

He gently put his hands on your shoulders and pushed you back a little.

"Luka I think you need to go to sleep." He muttered, ignoring your eyes looking down at his lips, ignoring you pout after you processed what he said, your lips framed by the dark blush lipstick you'd chosen to wear. "Come on, you can have my bed."

"Easy tiger, I know I said we should date but you have to wait for the sex!" You scoffed in a teasing manner as he helped you stand up. You batted his hands off you, laughing to yourself as you did, and sauntered off to his bedroom as if you owned the place. Peter grabbed you a glass of water then followed loosely behind you, trying his damn hardest not to replay what you'd just proposed to him. He watched you plonk yourself on his bed, your legs crossed over with an expectant look on your face. He put the glass on the bedside table, went to his drawers and grabbed a Tshirt for you, and walked back over to you, holding it out.

"Did I make you feel uncomfortable Mr Parker?" You said quietly, realising that he was being a bit weird with you. He sighed.

"It's fine, you just need to go to bed, okay?"

"It's not fine. You're my friend and I don't want you to be angry with me too." You said, taking the Tshirt but not moving to put it on. Peter bit his bottom lip, then crouched down in front of you, reaching up to brush your hair away from your face.

"I'm not angry. Just not used to my drunk friends suggesting we make out." He said.

It was true. He just didn't add the fact that it weirded him out because that's exactly what he wanted to do with you. You smiled a little.

"Now," He continued. "Get undressed Sugar." He added, trying to ease the tension a bit.

"NOOO!" You whined, falling back onto the bed. "I thought you'd forgotten about that!" He laughed back at you, and went to his bedroom door. He said goodnight to you, waiting until he saw you start to sit up and manoeuvre the Tshirt in your hand to find the front, then he closed the door behind him as he left the room.

He numbly walked to his sofa, sitting heavily onto it, and put his face in his hands.

Holy fuck.