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idleimagines · 7 years ago

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Shower Situation (Pt. II)

Part I

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: some curse words here and there

Summary: In the aftermath of a particularly unexpected encounter, you and your neighbor meet up as promised, wherein you learn more than you asked for.

A/N: Here is the frequently requested second part. I apologize for how long this took, a portion of it had gotten deleted and I had to do it all over again. But anyways, enjoy!

Peter Parker broke his promise within twenty hours.

Okay, in all honesty, he didn’t mean to, but it just sort of slipped out. And it only slipped out to Ned--- who happened to be his best friend--- so did it really count? He’d like to think no, it didn’t.

He supposed he looked visibly anxious that day in school because Ned had asked him what was wrong. And Peter tried to veer away from his friend’s querying, he really did. But Ned was driving him up the wall, convinced that it had to do with Spider-man, and by lunchtime the prying had just become too incessant.

“Fine, Ned. Fine.” Peter groaned with finality, before lifting his head to survey the school cafeteria. Seeing that the coast was clear--- nobody appeared to be paying them any mind--- he turned back to his friend. “So yesterday, I kinda got... caught with the suit.”

“Dude!” Ned had all but shouted, eyes widening animatedly. “You got caught?! By who? By your Aunt? Aunt May? It was May, wasn’t it.”

This earned them a few odd stares from neighboring lunch tables, while Ned’s shin was met with Peter’s foot.

“Be a little louder, why don’t you,” he spoke through gritted teeth.

“Oww,” Ned whined, rubbing his shin. “That hurt.”

Sometimes Peter forgot how strong his powers had made him.

“My bad, dude,” he said in earnest. “And no, it wasn’t-- it wasn’t May...”

And it was then and there that Peter filled Ned in on the whole bathroom ‘scandal’--- which included, but was not limited to: you finding him in the Spidey suit, and him finding you... not dressed.

So technically yes, Peter broke his promise, which had been to never mention walking in on you.

But to be fair, it had been for contextual purposes, and contextual purposes only.

“(Y/n)?” Ned echoed. “Like your neighbor, (y/n)? Like the one you’ve been crushing on forever, (y/n)?”

“What?” Peter couldn’t help but scoff, making a face. God, he hoped nobody could hear them. “Ned, you know I’ve only ever liked Liz.”

“Ok, whatever you say Peter,” he replied, unconvinced. “Would you care to reminisce on that one time in the apartment elevator? Or when you bumped into her in the hallway? Or---”

“Ok, stop.”

“And now this can be added to the---”

“Shut up.”

Peter knew if he let Ned continue, his friend would rattle off the never-ending list of times Peter Parker was awkward and-or clumsy around you.

So his track record wasn’t great with you, or most girls for that matter. Whenever you were around, he happened to be especially inept. But that didn’t mean he was in love with you or anything. You were cute, was all.

“You’re missing the point, Ned. (Y/n) knows that I’m...” Peter subtly jerked his head, as if the gesture meant something. “You know.”

“So? It makes you look badass. Girls like that kind of thing.”

On that note, Ned was probably the least becoming person to tell him what girls liked. But once again, that wasn’t the point.

“What if she, like, tells someone? She’s gonna tell someone, I-I just have a feeling. And then everyone will know.”

Ned shrugged insouciantly, taking another bite out of his sandwich. Did he not understand the magnitude of the situation at hand?

“I still don’t get why it’s such a big deal to keep this ‘hero thing’ under the radar,” he said while chewing. “Well, I kinda do, but still. If I were you--”

Here we go again, thought Peter.

“--I would tell everyone. You know, be all like, ‘Hey guys, I’m Spider-man. Yeah, that’s right. Who’s the loser now, Flash?’ And then I would do a backflip or something and it would be really cool.”

"Ned, for the last time--”

“I know, I’m just saying.”

Peter turned back to his half-eaten sandwich. He didn’t have much of an appetite today, not with yesterday on his mind. The two of you had made vague plans to meet up, and a part of him wondered if ‘vague’ meant it wasn’t happening. Would that be a good thing? Maybe you’d be willing to forget about the entire ordeal.

Ok, that was unlikely.

But maybe you would just leave it alone. Never to be mentioned again. Would that be a good thing?

No, no. He had to talk to you. You did seem curious for an explanation, and he supposed he owed you that much after embarrassing you. Besides, he had to make sure you truly weren’t going to tell anyone.

The latter half of the school day came and went, and before you knew it, you were on the subway headed home. Hand latched around the pole grip, your mind wandered off, per usual whenever using public transportation.

Your date with Jason had gone well.

If you’d consider a conversationally silent two hours of rigidly sitting side-by-side, craning your necks to look up at the screen because there were no seats left except in the front of the theater a good thing, then it went great actually.

He was nice though, if a bit awkward, not that you had much of a problem with awkwardness. In fact, you didn’t have much of a right to pass judgment; you’d said and done some painfully awkward things yourself.

Speaking of which, you couldn’t even think about yesterday without externally grimacing. The entire movie date was spent like that; replaying the very moment in which the door had swung open and Peter stood there agape.

Moreover, you felt like you had intruded on some part of your neighbor’s life that you had no place intruding upon. Not that it had been in your control, really. But it felt wrong that you were asking for an explanation in concerns to his secret identity.

The two of you hadn't said anything beyond that, was it safe to assume Peter Parker didn’t want to meet up with you?

I wouldn’t if I were him.

But you wanted an explanation so badly. You still had so many questions and there was still so much confusion.

Did he always have those powers? And if not, then how did he get them? And what was the extent of them?

The subway came to a screeching halt, and you stepped off with a flood of passengers pushing past you. The walk back to your apartment was a short one, but it got you thinking of all the things you just had to ask him. You wanted to show Peter that you were cool and composed about it all, prove to him that you could keep a secret. But man, were you also curious.

Heading up the steps of the apartment complex, a part of you hoped you would see him. Sometimes the two of you bumped into one another while coming or going, to which those encounters were always brief but bumbling; never more than a few awkward words in greeting.

Disappointment admittedly welled up within you when that wasn’t the case. You had reached your door with no Peter in sight.

Hours passed and that disappointment intensified.

He doesn’t want to talk.

Could you blame him? No, not really. Maybe you had his number, but even so, it felt weird reaching out to him like that. ‘Hey, so when are we gonna meet up to talk about this superhero thing?’ Such an approach seemed rather tacky.

Well, maybe he was busy fighting crime. That was what Spider-man specialized in, after all. Maybe he was in the midst of foiling some great heist, or stopping a pair of assaulters, or---

A muffled knock sounded, making you jump at your desk. Turning away from the homework you had successfully avoided, your eyes flickered over to the half-opened window across your bedroom.

A tousled mop of brown poked up from behind the windowsill. Your chest tightened in momentary fear, and you briefly considered using your lamp as an impromptu weapon before the face came into view and you realized it was your neighbor.

Your neighbor who was somehow standing on your fire escape.

“Peter!” The exclamation was one more of disorientation than relief. “What-- How-- I could’ve been changing!”

His ears tinged pink, and you felt a twinge of guilt. Seeing you like that was obviously not his intent; he was here to talk. The thought made you happy. You spoke again to alleviate the awkwardness.

“Or stashing my super suit away. God forbid someone finds me out.” You punctuated the dumb joke with a smile, and Peter looked to you with an amused roll of the eyes.

“Very funny.”

Your previous nerves began to subside and you made a move to the window, pushing it up to open it wider.

“You climbed the wall?”

“That’s sorta my thing.”

“And you knew this was my room?”

“Well, yeah. But it-it’s only because I’m your neighbor. Not some stalker. That would be--” he coughed, “--that would be creepy. I’ve seen you on your fire escape before. Not intentionally or anything, but, uh, yeah.”

You inched closer to the window and realized he was wearing regular clothes; a blue sweater--- Or was it gray?--- thrown over a plaid button-up, and coupled with a pair of corduroys.

A Peter Parker outfit.

Not that you paid much attention to him, or his daily attire. Never.

“You’re lucky my window faces an alleyway,” you chastised the boy who climbed a wall to get here. “Otherwise--”

“I wouldn’t have done it otherwise.”

“Well, as much as I’d love to talk, I-I, um, don’t think my room is the best place to do it... My parents are home and I don’t want them getting the wrong idea.”

“I-I know.” He puckered his brow, the red creeping onto his cheeks. You’d noted by this point that flustered Peter was rather cute. “I was gonna suggest the roof actually.”

You’d been up here on occasion, but never routinely.

The apartment roof was basically a slab of tar, cluttered with exhaust ducts and vent pipes, as opposed to some lavishly furnished deck with an abundance of green life and lounge chairs. Hideous as it was, it did have its charms.

For instance, it offered an above average view of Queens that you couldn’t find on the city streets; you could even see Corona Park from here if you squinted hard enough.

Moreover, it rarely ever received visitors, consequently making it the perfect place to clear your head.

Or to learn the story behind your next-door-neighbor’s alter ego.

Peter was frankly surprised by how easy it was to explain everything to you. The radioactive spider, adjusting to his newfound powers, the whole shebang with the Avengers, Toomes and his weapon dealings, the Washington Monument escapade--- all that big stuff.

He refrained from mentioning things like Uncle Ben, and the sticky situation he got himself into with Liz. In the grand scheme of things though, he revealed much more than he thought he would.

And he was proud of himself for getting through it without fumbling for his words an excessive amount.

You sat on the ledge the whole time--- which made him a bit nervous--- silently absorbing the information, while giving a nod here and there. That was good, he supposed. You weren’t freaking out or growing giddy with excitement. No, you were contemplatively quiet.

“So... yeah,” he concluded his spiel with a loud exhalation. “That’s that, I guess.”

Looking to your face for any hint of judgement, amusement, satisfaction--- anything really--- he was met only with placidity. Silence fell over the two of you for what felt like several eternities. With agonizing slowness, you planted your feet back on the ground, turning around to face the city skyline, saying nothing.

Say something, say something, Peter silently pleaded, regretting everything in the span of seconds. This was a dumb idea, Peter. What did you get yourself into?

Looking over your shoulder, you regarded your stiff-appearing neighbor, and your chest swelled with this sudden feeling of unwonted adoration. Not necessarily because you were star-struck--- granted, the whole Spider-man thing was cool--- but you were met with this realization that Peter Parker was a good guy, a genuinely decent human being.

Finally, you gave a low whistle. Peter's shoulders seemed to sag in relief.

“Dang.” You couldn’t help but smile. “Does your aunt know?”

He threw his head back, releasing something halfway between a laugh and a groan. “God, no. She’d kill Mr. Stark and then me, probably.” You laughed with him, as he stepped closer to gaze at the skyline.

”And here, I thought you were just gonna give me the lowdown of your superpowers.”

I said too much, Peter thought again.

“Well, it-it’s just with everything that happened yester--” he said as you made a face at the mention, “--day... I figured you deserved a better explanation.”

“Ah.” You gave a tight-lipped laugh at the reminder, face flushed and failing to hide your chagrin. It made you look really cute for some reason. Well, maybe because you were really cute. That probably helped. “Man, I can’t even think about it without cringing. I’m sorry, Peter. It-- that must have been...”

“I didn’t mind.”

You quirked an eyebrow and Peter wanted to punch himself.

“I uh..! Didn’t mean it like that. I meant it like it wasn’t a big deal, not like I was turned on. Well, you're attractive, don’t get me wrong, but I wasn’t--” shut up, shut up, “oh god.”

You could feel your face flaming, but for reasons other than humiliation.

“You... you think I’m attractive?”

Peter was biting down on his knuckles, looking at anywhere but you. The air hung heavy in silence, save for the sound of the late-autumn wind and perpetual hubbub of the city streets below. He seemed to be swearing under his breath, while you stared at him with this burning persistence before he caught it and sighed in resignation.

“I mean if we’re being technical here,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “You’re-- yeah. Yeah.”

Peter--- to say the very, very least--- was dying of embarrassment.

This is what happens when you talk more than you should. Suddenly, Ned’s advice to simply say he was Spider-man and do “a backflip, or something” seemed a whole lot better of an idea than this. Yeah, a backflip would’ve sufficed.

He didn’t want to look at you, it was too weird. Peter tried fixing his eyes on the city.

“I mean, if we’re on the subject of admitting things,” you began, and he noticed you were rocking back and forth on your heels out of the corner of his eye, “I’ve always had a bit of a crush on you.”

He whipped his head around.

“What,” he spluttered, though the question came out flat.

He could have sworn he heard you wrong. You seemed flustered, but in a sweet way, not the uncomfortable-type way he had found you in before.

“I mean, yeah. I don’t want you to think I’m only saying that because I know you’re...” You made a silly web-shooting gesture instead of simply saying Spider-man. “But I admire the things you do. And the fact that you do it anonymously? That’s really cool of you.”

Peter felt himself blushing and brain short-circuiting, so nothing that came out of his mouth was particularly articulate.

“Pshh, I-- well, I’m not, it’s-- I-- you like me?”

He technically hadn’t let on any feelings of liking, which made you deflate a bit. But you were already neck-deep in this confession, so it was too late to take it back now.

“Yeah,” you said with an air laughter, amused by his wide eyed look. “I hope I didn't make this weird for you.”

You supposed it was too late to worry about whether or not you made things weird. You’d both been thrust into a weird situation to begin with.

“You-- you didn’t. I, I actually feel the same,” Peter smiled nervously. “About liking you, not, not the Spider-man stuff.”

“Oh,” he caught the pleasant lilt to your voice, “that’s nice.”

“Yeah, nice,” he echoed, and instantly regretted it. Be a little less uncool. Peter swallowed. “Listen though, (y/n). You’re gonna, uh, keep this all a secret, yeah?”

“You mean the liking me part?”

“Yes-- wait! No, I mean like the Spider-man part. Everything I told you before.”

“So,” you dragged out the syllable, stepping towards him, “everything after that doesn’t matter?”

“Yes. No. Well, it does I guess, but in terms of keeping it quiet-- not really.” He gave a shaky sigh. “But you promise not to say anything about...”

“My lips are sealed.” You noticed the way his eyes flickered down to your mouth when you said that. Daring to take a step closer, you looked up at him intently. “Do you trust me?”

“I... yes.”

It grew quiet.

His brown eyes almost looked gold, what with the way the setting sun casted light on them. The space between the two of you was small, and he seemed to be regarding you with the same subdued fervency as you had. There was a palpable tension, and a part of you told yourself to just kiss him, but it felt too sudden. Then again, this boy had just bared the last eight months of his life to you, how sudden could one kiss be?

You decided against it, lowering your eyes.

“Well, it’s getting late,” you said, disappointed in yourself for doing so. “I should probably head ba--”

With a burst of boldness--- and an inability to care about whether or not he’d regret this--- Peter lowered his head, pressing his lips to yours. You stumbled back a bit, and he caught your arm, holding you there for maybe a second or two, before pulling away and mumbling a quick apology.

He wasn’t entirely sorry though.

You blinked blearily back at him, in a bit of a daze. The kiss was soft and warm, and just like that, it was over.

Silence fell over the two of you. Finally, Peter gave a cough.

“I’ll see you around then? If you’re not busy, I mean. Maybe we could do something.”

“Right. Yeah.” You found yourself blushing. “I’d like that.”

He gave you a boyish, sloppy grin, and you could’ve sworn your heart stuttered. And with that, you made your leave.

Peter Parker decided to stay on the roof, just for a few minutes more. Assessing everything that just happened, he realized he was feeling good, great in fact. He liked you and trusted you and had just kissed you.

With the benefit of hindsight, he supposed that whole shower situation wasn’t so bad after all.

A/N: The last of this was written in a caffeinated daze, but I was determined to get it finished before going to bed. I also made it so that Aunt May still doesn’t know about Peter being Spider-man, even though this imagine is clearly post-homecoming. But anyways, thanks for reading! xx

Tags: @kidensdouble88

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #spider-man: homecoming #spider-man imagine #tom holland x reader #peter parker x you

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idleimagines · 7 years ago

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Shower Situation

Part II

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 2,643

Warnings: a bit of swearing, unintentional immodesty

Summary: A broken shower and upcoming date are why you find yourself knocking on your neighbor’s door. The situation goes awry, to say the least.

A/N: Geez, this was longer than I expected. But hey, I had fun writing it.

Your raised fist hung limply in front of the apartment door, still having made no attempt to knock. Every fiber of your being didn’t want to ask Peter Parker to use his shower. God, that was such an awkward request to make.

Sure, you knew each other, but this wasn’t the kind of thing to ask someone you shared a blearily defined acquaintanceship with. It was what you’d ask of best friends, or boyfriends.

But all things considered, he was your last resort. Your own shower still wasn’t functioning and you had a date tonight— one that you hoped would go well— and you bet the scoring-a-second-date success rate was low for those who didn’t shower for their first. In layman’s terms, you looked disheveled and were running out of options.

And so, you knocked. Halfheartedly, but it was a knock nonetheless.

Please be his aunt. Please be his aunt.

The door opened, and to your utmost relief, Mrs. Parker was the one on the other side.

“(Y/n), how are you?” She said with a warm smile, and for other reasons, you found yourself brightly smiling back. “How’s your mother?”

“I’m good, she’s good.” So as to avoid dallying with pointless pleasantries (you were in a bit of a time crunch), you decided to just cut to the chase. “Mrs. Parker, can I ask you a favor?”

“Of course, do you need to come in?”

“Heh, actually yes.” You felt awkward, but oddly comforted by the notion that this was nothing compared to how you’d feel if her nephew had answered the door. “Would I be able to, uh, use your shower? I- Mine’s been broken for a couple days now, and I feel bad asking, but I have a date tonight and, well, it’s been a while since my last shower.”

She gave you a sympathetic smile, and you felt your chest sag a bit in relief.

“Oh sure, sweetie. You could’ve asked sooner!” With a wave of a polished hand, Mrs. Parker gestured you into her apartment. You gratefully trailed behind. Glancing at her, it looked like she was dressed up, perhaps ready to go out? “Believe me, I understand the struggle of a broken shower.”

Stepping into the apartment, it occurred to you that you’d never been inside before. Well, not since you were a kid. It then occurred to you that the last time you’d been here, Mr. Parker was still alive. Suddenly, your mind wandered to the funeral and your clumsy show of condolences to a family you didn’t know very well, but well enough. You recalled how stiff and awkward you felt approaching a very stony Peter Parker, yet your ruth had been completely sincere.

Moreover, you now felt rude for not even asking Mrs. Parker how she was doing.

“I’m actually heading out now, but I’ll show you the bathroom,” she remarked, fissioning your train of thought.

“Thank you so much.” You said it gently.

She led you down the hall and into the bathroom, as you quickly realized this apartment was of a nearly identical layout to yours.

“Here you go. I assume the knob is the same as the one you have.”

You nodded and she briefly left before returning with a towel. You took it and thanked her again, because truly, you were grateful, and relieved to finally fix this dire need to shower.

“Do you need me to lock the apartment when I leave?” You offered, knowing she wouldn’t be home for it. Mrs. Parker gave a wave of the hand.

“No need. Peter hasn’t come home yet, so I’d just keep it unlocked.”

“He doesn’t have a key?”

“Actually, he lost our spare key,” she said with a huff before muttering, “which is probably somewhere with his fifth backpack.”

You poorly smothered your laughter with the towel she had given you. How in the world would he manage to lose five backpacks? It definitely made you feel better about your own, oftentimes inconvenient, forgetfulness. Mrs. Parker couldn’t help but laugh with you, even if her frustration about Peter was palpable.

“Well,” she said once the short-lived laughter had ebbed into awkward silence, “I’ll leave you to it.” She made her way out of the bathroom, before stopping in the doorway and turning back to you. “And if you see Peter on your way out, could you let him know that something stained his clothes when he did the wash? Everything turned up red and blue…”

“Sure thing, Mrs. Parker.”

Nice was an understatement in concerns to how it felt finally being under the warm spray of a shower. It felt therapeutic, invigorating. Perhaps that was being a bit dramatic, but hey, you know what they say about cleanliness.

It did disturb you (at least in the slightest) to know that this wasn’t your shower, and that you were standing naked in somebody else’s— that somebody being a boy you knew. And you were continually reminded of this by the unfamiliar smell of shampoo in your hair and the vinyl bathmat beneath your toes. Not that it mattered an awful lot; you were happy enough to get clean.

In fact, you spent more time than you normally would have in the shower, just because it felt so good. Roughly twenty minutes passed before you realized you were being regrettably wasteful. Bringing your hand to the shower knob with reluctance, you shut the water off.

Peter Parker all but stumbled over his windowsill and into his room in the aftermath of a rough run-in with a store burglar. The guy put up more of a fight than he had bargained for, and Spider-man had admittedly taken quite the blow. Still, the burglar didn’t get away, and in the end that was all Peter could really ask for.

His body ached everywhere though, he almost didn’t want to go into the bathroom to assess the damage.

With a groan, Peter tugged the mask off and tossed it somewhere by his bed. He pressed a hand to the spider on his chest, loosening the suit to a point of actual removability, and let it fall from his shoulders, hanging about his waist.

Luckily for him, Aunt May wasn’t home, making it easier to clean himself up without getting caught under fire of interrogation. (Which had happened before– he had covered it up with some bullshit along the lines of ‘gym class’.)

Even in his dimly lit bedroom, it looked like he was sporting quite a few dark blotches along his arms and chest. Not too bad. Poking one of them, he winced, and subsequently reconsidered. Ok, so a little bad. He knew the lighting of the bathroom would be a better show of his what-you’d-call injuries.

Stepping out of the shower, you grabbed the nearby towel and began to squeeze the water out of the ends of your hair.

You idly started to wonder what someone could be up to that would lead them to keep losing their backpack. Because surely Peter Parker had to be placing it in obscure places for such a thing to happen. It wasn’t like he would leave it at a friend’s house and simply… lose it. This then got you wondering what he was up to now, and if in fact it was something shady. You didn’t care enough to dwell on it though, and instead, your mind wandered to your upcoming date.

Jason had tersely asked you to the movies during fifth period, and you saw no reason in turning it down. You weren’t that close, and you had only sparingly shown interest in him prior, but dating wasn’t a bad thing to open yourself up to, yeah? Wasn’t there that quote about love— or liking, in your case— being found in unexpected places? Something like that…

You were torn away from your thoughts when the doorknob twisted with a horrifying suddenness, igniting a fear that had only taken the backburner until now. Never had your reflexes been so inhumanely quick, to which you brought the towel to cover the front of your body, just as the door had swung fully open.

“AH!”

You felt your face redden— no, felt it flame— and you couldn’t help but echo his cry of terror. In the doorway stood a blanched and understatedly startled Peter Parker.

“Wha-wha-what are… gah-” he brought a hand up to shield his eyes, “why are you… what thE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?”

When Aunt May told Peter that he would be home alone tonight, it was NATURAL to assume that he’d be home alone tonight! Oh god, you weren’t wearing clothes, this was so incredibly weird. Some part of him instinctually wanted to apologize for walking in on you, but the latter part wanted to know why the hell you were in his bathroom?!

Meanwhile, you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Somewhere amidst the humiliation and shock, you noticed he was bare from the waist up, making the moment all the more inexplicably flustering. But from the waist down…

No.

It couldn’t be.

You blinked rapidly, believing your eyes were beginning to fail you or something. But with every blink, he was still clad in that red and blue spandex’d attire hanging from his waist so casually. You recognized it from those videos on YouTube. And on the news. Peter, Peter is—

“Spider-man?!”

He dropped his hand.

“Wha–” Peter’s eyes went back and forth between his half-worn suit and your horrified expression, realization dawning on him. Shit, shit, shit. Shit. This was so not good. Your mouth was hanging open in that ‘O’ shape, and Peter knew this one would be hard to bullshit his way out of.

“It-it’s not what it looks like!”

“Really?” You clutched the towel closer to your chest, stepping back. “Really?! Because it looks like you’re Spider-man!”

“I’m not- I’m not Spider…” He looked like he was going to be sick. “This is a costume, I swear!”

“You-you’re covered in bruises... why else would you... I’m not an idiot!” And yet you felt overwhelmingly at a loss. It almost distracted you from the fact that you were wearing nothing but a towel in front of your neighbor. Almost. “You’re Spider-man! You! Peter Parker!”

“Sh! Shut up, shut up, shut up!” He begged amidst your incessant shouting, before switching tactics. In one swift movement, his hand had clasped itself over your mouth. “Somebody could hear you, (y/n)!”

“Hear me? Hear you!” Your voice was muffled. You grabbed ahold of his wrist to wrestle it away from you, but your efforts were futile, so you simply continued with the hand on your mouth. “You screamed when you walked in on me!”

“Because you’re the last person I’d expect to me in my-my…” He retracted his hand and let it fall back to his side, as you watched his eyes acknowledge your state of undress. Your own embarrassment stifled you once more. He reddened, averting his gaze to the floor. “You’re-you’re not supposed to be here!”

“My-my shower wasn’t working.” You took a steadying breath, in efforts to lower your voice. God, you wanted death. “Your aunt let me… I-I haven’t…” you swallowed thickly, “haven’t showered in a few days actually. She said you were out. I didn’t– I didn’t think you’d come back so soon.”

Your head was still reeling from this newfound knowledge about literally the most unsuspecting person you’d ever imagine to be Queen’s crime-fighting vigilante— your neighbor. And with the context of this, losing those backpacks and staining those clothes started to carry some weight of rationale.

“You’re Spider-man,” was all you could muster at this point, the words a breathy whisper.

“And you’re…” The word naked hung in the air, but Peter left the sentence static and unfinished— partly because the observation was redundant anyway, but also because he couldn’t say it without the word conjuring up more imaginative images. He stepped back, putting as much distance between the two of you that the confined bathroom allowed. Why was he still standing in here again?

Maybe because that expression of utter revelation was still slapped across your face, and he knew the situation couldn’t be amended with bullshit, or lack of honesty. So he sighed in resignation. Looked like yet another person would come to know the secret alter ego of Peter Parker.

“Ok, ok, (y/n). Come back tonight or something and I can explain everything, as long as you swear on your life to keep this a secret.”

“I… I can’t tonight.”

“You can’t?”

“I have… something.” For some reason, you didn’t feel awfully compelled to mention your date with Jason. Was it because you’d always found Peter a little cute? You tried to keep your eyes on his face, because his state of half-undress paired with the red-and-blue garb— which had been kicked off his legs at this point— weren’t helping you form coherent thoughts. “That’s why I needed to use your shower. Which, uh, yeah. Thanks for that.”

“Oh.” He straightened, looking a bit perplexed, as if he didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

“Maybe… tomorrow?” You tightened the cotton towel around your body. “If you’re not too busy with that hero stuff, I mean. An explanation would be cool.”

It might have been your imagination, but you could have sworn he perked up a bit.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah– I can– I can do that.” He nodded. “Just… Promise you won’t mention any of–” He bent down to pick up his suit, gesturing to it with the other hand. “–this? To anybody.”

“As long as your promise not to mention any of–” You mimicked his wave of the hand, gesturing to yourself. “–this.” It had been an attempt at lightening the mood, but it only seemed to make him blush harder, before giving a small cough.

Now would be a good time to leave, you chided yourself. You bent down to pick up your own pile of clothes, gathering them in your arms. You had originally intended to change back into them, but then again, you also hadn’t expected this shower session to be interrupted by Spider-man. Easily the most bizarre thing to ever happen to you.

He noticed you were making your leave and promptly stepped out of the way of the doorframe.

“You should, uh, keep that towel for now,” he commented, before grimacing at how dumb it sounded. You were doing that, obviously. Turning around in the hallway, you gave a soft, if awkward, laugh. He took in the way the droplets of water still clung to your skin, perhaps for a few seconds too long. Stop that, you seem like a total perv. Peter fixed his eyes back on your face. “I’m–I’m sorry for barging in on you, by the way.”

“I’m sorry for not giving you a heads up.” Well, he thought, that might be more Aunt May’s fault. He noticed the concern in your eyes when they wandered down to his chest. “Are you going to be okay? Those, uh, those are a lot of bruises.”

“I heal quickly,” he said with a shrug, but it probably didn’t come across as cavalier as he hoped.

You gave a nod and a tiny “ah.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Tomorrow,” you affirmed with a sheepish smile. And then in a swift and awkward motion, you turned on your heel, before hurriedly making your way down the hallway and out the door.

And despite the many ways Peter wanted to be mortified by the situation— what with finding you in his bathroom, his identity being compromised, and not knowing if he could wholly trust you— a small part of him couldn’t help but feel a bit slaphappy that you guys just made plans.

He always did find you pretty cute.

A/N - This was my first Peter Parker imagine, and I got a bit carried away if you couldn’t tell

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #spider-man: homecoming #spider-man imagine #tom holland x reader #peter parker x you

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