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raspberryparker · 6 years ago

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chocolate orange | five

Peter Parker x Fem!Omega!Reader — A/B/O Verse AU

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word count: 8,477 i apologize in advance summary: it’s finally over. but will they get to talk it out? warnings: see masterlist none, surprisingly (shocker, ik) this one’s just really soft (okay i lied, mentions of rut and heat but it’s not bad)

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BONUS PLAYLIST: spotify or apple music

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The night was a deep, velvety black. Peter stared out at it as if it was the first time he was seeing it, eyes wide with wonder. How long had it been?

It was night when he was brought there. He’d slept through most of it and his room didn’t have a window, so as his stomach dropped when the elevator began rising, it felt as if no time had passed at all. As if his entire rut had begun and ended in one single evening, though he knew that not to be the case.

The glass walls of the elevator allowed him to look out over the night sky. The buildings of New York glittered like stars below him. Like a galaxy all on its own. The stars above him, the real ones, looked like sugar crystals spilled over the darkness.

Maybe his rut had made him more sentimental.

There was no blasting music, no screeching guitar riffs or heavy drum beats when the elevator slid open. Not this time. Instead there was the gentle mechanical humming and whirring as Dum-E’s single arm moved to carefully put down a fresh, steaming mug of coffee on the tabletop. The same tabletop that Mr. Stark was sitting at. He was bleary-eyed and unshaven with his face in his hands, the fingers of one hand closing around the handle of the Iron Man mug at a snail’s pace, while the other came up to rub at his temples. Dum-E whirred as his arm tilted to the side almost curiously, Peter noted. As if he was wondering why Tony hadn’t made any sort of remark about the coffee as the man brought it to his pursed lips and took a loud, slurping sip.

He did have to admit that it was strange seeing him so quiet.

Peter swallowed down the dryness in his throat. Though before he had a chance to speak, he was interrupted.

“Peter.”

It was Bruce. He looked just as tired as Mr. Stark did, adjusting the sleeves of his white lab coat as he descended the steps and walked toward the boy. His hair was flattened against one side of his head, the way Peter’s did when he fell asleep at his desk doing homework after a long night of patrol. The creases under his eyes were shadowed by the dark evidence of a lack of sleep and Peter wondered for a moment if he was the reason the two men looked so exhausted.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asked.

Peter shrugged indifferently. “Like death.”

He really did. There was a certain kind of lethargy that clung to his body. He felt it all the way down to his bones, as if the marrow had been replaced by the heaviest substance on earth. Uranium, he thought offhandedly. He was surprised he had the mind to remember that.

When he awoke that day (if it even was during the day) he immediately felt that his rut was over. He felt… disgusting. The way he did immediately after getting himself off on any normal day, shamefully closing the private browsing tab on his phone and asking why the hell he just did that. Except it was heavier and more of an all over feeling. Peter had to lie on the bed with his head in his hands, groaning into a pillow as the memories of the past few days (he didn’t even know the exact number) came back to him. He regretted everything.

Apparently, F.R.I.D.A.Y. was also aware that his rut had ended. He suspected that Mr. Stark must have had her monitoring him because as soon as he stood to shower and clean himself of the mess of bodily fluids covering his skin that he didn’t even want to think about, her soft Irish lilt politely informed him that Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner were expecting him in the lab as soon as he was ready.

Even walking to the bathroom was a struggle, not to mention getting dressed or walking down the hall to the elevator.

So no, it wasn’t an exaggeration. He really felt like death.

“Ah, teenagers,” Tony said suddenly. “Always so melodramatic.”

Peter turned to watch him stand, the red and yellow mug still clutched in his grip as he offered the boy a soft smile.

“Cut him a break, Tony,” Bruce said.

“Only teasing,” Tony assured. “Seriously, kid. You okay now?”

“I think so,” Peter replied. He brought a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck as Mr. Stark approached him. “I don’t really know yet.”

Mr. Stark’s hand on his shoulder was a welcome weight, a grounding force that seemed to push his heels into the cold floor of the lab and for that he was grateful.

“I had F.R.I.D.A.Y. watching your vitals,” he said. “It looks like it’s over now. How long has it been, Doc?”

“Five days,” Bruce replied, already busying himself with a glass tablet as he turned back to head into the medbay. “That’s pretty average for a first rut. To be honest, I thought it’d be longer since you were so late.”

“So that’s… good?” Peter asked.

“It’s a good sign, yes,” Bruce said. “If you’re okay with it, I’d like to run some tests again. Just to see how you’re doing in there.”

“Yeah, sure.”

The medbay looked the same as the last time he’d been inside, down the to placement of the needle on the small table next to bed. Peter sat with his legs dangling over the side of it once again, looking away as Bruce poked and prodded at the crease of his elbow. He winced as he felt the pressure but it only lasted for a second. Bruce’s fingers felt cool against his arm as he rubbed over the spot inside his elbow where he’d taken blood, soothing the dull ache there.

“I’ll get these results back soon,” he assured him. “And do me a favour?”

Peter glanced over at him, watching as he moved some of the crimson blood he’d taken into a test tube.

“Drink some water. You lost a lot this week, you’re probably dehydrated right now.”

He nodded weakly.

He stepped back into the lab, pulling the sleeve of his hoodie back down over his arm. He stood next to Tony who had a pondering expression on his face as he looked at a hologram chart projected above him. Peter wasn’t even going to pretend he knew what it said.

Instead he turned to him shyly, pursing his lips before deciding to just bite the metaphorical bullet and ask.

“Hey, Mr. Stark?” God, he hated how whiny he sounded. He was eighteen years old, legally an adult and now socially too, considering he’d just presented, but he still sounded like a child. Tony hummed in response, not looking away from his chart. “How bad was it?”

“Not that bad,” Bruce said from somewhere behind him. “Don’t worry.”

Tony’s face took on an incredulous expression.

“Are you kidding me?” he exclaimed. “For a couple days there I was scared he’d destroy the whole room. It was expensive, you know.”

Peter winced.

Before he’d left for the lab, he had taken a moment to examine the room he’d been held in for the duration of his rut. And to say he was shocked would be the understatement of the century.

The sheets were ripped in multiple places, tatters of cotton fabric lying on the floor and big holes decorating the majority of it. Above the bed, he saw teeth marks in the wooden posts, scratches along the pale wall above the headboard. His mouth was still aching as he remembered it, his jaw throbbing from the force of his bites. His own arms were littered with bite marks, either from trying to stifle his noises or trying to keep his mouth occupied. He couldn’t remember. But it made him reach for something with long sleeves when he was getting dressed, not wanting Mr. Stark or Bruce to see the marks. There had been a lamp on the night table that illuminated the room, but he saw another on the floor by the door. It was broken into pieces with a bent lamp shade and a shattered bulb, shards of glass along the carpet glinting in the light.

He almost groaned out loud thinking about it.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“This is why I didn’t want to freak him out,” Bruce hissed, stepping around to the work surface on the other side of the hologram. “It’s okay, Peter. Ruts are unpredictable, especially the first one. What matters is you didn’t hurt yourself.”

Peter’s eyes widened, looking up at Bruce with a frightened expression.

“Th-that could have happened?”

“It’s rare,” the doctor went on, noting the distress that came through in the young boy’s scent. “But not impossible. And the longer one goes without presenting, the more likely it is. I had to make F.R.I.D.A.Y. keep an eye on you just to make sure but, other than the furniture, no serious damage was done.”

They fell silent again. Bruce was typing something on a glass tablet and Tony was still sipping his coffee loudly.

“I’m gonna have to ask you some questions,” Bruce said suddenly. “They’ll help with the tests, narrow down my results.”

Peter was unsure, still frightened and concerned about just what had happened during his time in that room. He glanced around nervously, eyes wide with panic.

“Pete, you gotta help the Doc out,” Tony was saying. His hand was on the boy’s shoulder again.

Peter sighed through his nose, nodding his head.

“Okay.”

“Great,” Bruce smiled. “Usually before a first rut or heat, the body gets ready for it by going into what we call a pseudo-rut a couple weeks before. It’s very similar; there’s feelings of arousal and desires to mate—”

Peter felt his cheeks redden, looking down at the floor in order to avoid eye contact. Though he’d just spent five days in a haze of arousal and sexual desires, it was still embarrassing.

“—but it only lasts for about a day, or at the most two. Do you remember anything like that?”

Oh, no.

Oh, God no.

Peter let out a groan, trying to hold back from hitting himself for being so utterly stupid. The day he’d gotten sick. May thought he had a fever but he was just… he…

“Yeah,” he sighed, a hand coming up over his eyes. “Two weeks ago. I didn’t… I didn’t know that’s what it was.”

“I didn’t think you would,” Bruce said.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Tony assured him. “You’re forgetting I went through all this shit too.”

“I guess.”

“Your aunt said that you called an Omega to the apartment,” Bruce continued. Peter felt his stomach drop at the thought. “Do you remember doing anything to court her?”

Peter shook his head. “No.”

What an idiot he’d been. He should have known. The way he acted, his feelings toward her, his confusion over the past couple weeks when it came to her; he should have seen it coming from a mile away.

“It’s okay,” Bruce smiled. “It could have been any subconscious effort. Did you… go out of your way to keep her safe? Do anything to subconsciously get her ready to be with you through your rut? Anything like that?”

“Uh,” Petter mumbled, playing with his fingers in his lap. “I guess? I… I’ve been walking her home every day, even though she lives ten blocks away from me. I got weirdly mad when our Alpha friend scented her and—”

He was silent for a moment.

“And what?”

It was Tony who asked. Peter hadn’t realized that the man had been leaning closer, listening intently to everything the boy had to say with his undivided attention.

“These past few days I’ve been giving her my lunch,” he admitted. His face felt hot with the blush that creeped over his cheeks.

Bruce hummed thoughtfully. “You were getting her ready.”

“For what?”

“To spend your rut with you,” he replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You were feeding her more so she’d have enough energy to last the week with little time to eat in between—”

“Yeah!” Peter interrupted, holding his hands up in front of his face as if to physically block the words from reaching him. “I think I got it.”

“Little late to be shy, Pete,” Tony chuckled. He stepped toward the table, picking up the tablet from the surface. “You know F.R.I.D.A.Y. records everything that happens in the tower.”

Peter’s eyes went comically wide, and his face paled quickly, the blush draining from his face in record time.

“Shall I,” Tony teased, a smirk on his face. “Play you an excerpt?”

“Give me that,” Bruce snapped, leaning over the table and snatching it out of the other man’s hand through the hologram. “He’s kidding, Peter. We wouldn’t invade your privacy like that.”

“Not like we’d have to,” Tony went on. “I thought I soundproofed that room. Clearly, it was not enough.”

The blush was back. Peter was pretty sure there was steam leaking from his ears with just how hot his face felt.

“Oh, God,” he muttered.

If there was any way he could sink into the metal grate along the floor, seep into the crevices of the wall and disappear, he would. He was blushing so red and hot that he was worried he’d start melting. Actually, worried wasn’t the word he’d use. More like hoping. Because at least then he wouldn’t have to listen to this.

“Tony, stop talking,” Bruce said firmly. “Look at him. Stop stressing him out.”

“Oh shit, sorry,” Tony winced. “Didn’t mean to break you, kid.”

“I-I’m fine,” Peter insisted. “Just overwhelmed.”

“I’d be worried if you weren’t,” Bruce assured him. “I got the results back and I think you’ll be pleased.”

With a quick tap against the tablet, Tony’s chart disappeared and was replaced by a bar graph not unlike the one Bruce showed him the first time he was in the lab. Except this time it looked different.

“What—”

“Remember your hormone levels? They’ve changed,” Bruce smiled.

He pointed at a tiny bar on the graph, the most minuscule sliver of colour against the blue of the hologram.

“That’s your Beta hormone,” he explained. “It’s at a pretty healthy level for a presented Alpha. Remember, everyone has all three. And this one here—” he pointed toward the one next to it, which was slightly taller. “—is your Omega hormone. It’s a bit above average but I expected this considering your previous circumstances. It’s not too much to cause any serious health problems, you should be able to continue living normally. But if anything happens, you come to me.”

Peter nodded though his eyes never left the third and final bar. It was huge. The first two looked like tiny specks compared to it. It was tall and looming and it seemed to tower over him.

“So that’s…” he began.

“Congratulations!” Tony exclaimed. Peter jumped. “You’re an Alpha! You got any party horns, Doc? Or some streamers? We gotta celebrate and all I have is this shitty coffee.”

Dum-E chirped from the corner.

“Yes, it’s your fault,” Tony said, setting the mug down on the counter and pointing an accusing finger at the robot. “Tastes like piss. But since you’re an adult now, Pete, how about we ditch the piss-coffee and have a drink like real men, eh? What say you?”

“How about,” Bruce interrupted. “He gets some water before he passes out and then goes home to his aunt? Or have you forgotten how many times I’ve had to answer her calls? She’s worried sick.”

“You,” Tony frowned. “Are a killjoy. But for once I agree with you.”

Peter couldn’t take his eyes away from the floor as Tony ushered him into the elevator.

“Go down to the kitchen and get some food in that little Alpha body of yours,” he said. “And we’ll have your stuff packed and ready whenever you are. Happy’ll drive you home whenever you want. Okay?”

“Okay,” Peter replied, turning to see Tony standing in the lab with his hands on his hips and a smile on his face.

“And don’t look so glum,” he said as the elevator doors began closing. “This is what you wanted, right?”

The doors shut before Peter could answer and the car began taking him down.

Was it really what he wanted?

When thinking about what lay ahead of him, he couldn’t stop the anxiety the fluttered from within his stomach.

Yes, he supposed. But that didn’t mean he was ready for it.

━━━━━━━━

“So you gonna tell me about it?”

She said nothing.

MJ sighed loudly and dramatically, prodding her knee with the front of her combat boot under the table.

“Come on, don’t play dumb,” she said. “That book’s upside down, anyway.”

Y/N frowned, allowing her eyes to focus on the lines of text in front of her eyes and to find that they were indeed upside down. She lowered the book, and her frown fell on MJ’s smug face. She shut the book, setting it down on the library table they were sitting at and resting an elbow on the surface, her fist propping up her chin. She gazed sleepily over at her friend, too tired to even acknowledge the fact that she had failed at avoiding conversation.

She’d been too preoccupied anyway. Too many thoughts. Too much to consider.

“So,” MJ said, the smug look not leaving her face. “What happened last week?”

“Early heat,” Y/N explained. “That’s all.”

She let her eyes flutter closed and took in the sounds of the library.

Quiet whispers to her right. The librarian’s shrill outcry when a student walked in with a drink. Typing on the old, clacking keyboards. Book pages flipping. She was close to falling asleep.

But MJ just wouldn’t let it go.

“So… you and Peter didn’t bond?” she asked.

Y/N’s eyes opened just a crack. MJ was blurry but she could still see the shit eating grin on her face.

“No,” she replied. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh come on, Y/N,” MJ insisted, she dropped her torso until she was level with the table, leaning across it as she extended her arms to reach for her friend. Cold fingers poked at Y/N’s elbow and she frowned. “I may be dumb but I’m not stupid. I wasn’t born yesterday. And I’m finding it pretty hard to believe that both you and Peter suddenly go M.I.A. for a week right after he was acting so weird around you.”

“What—”

“You’re so cute,” MJ said with a smile. “You think other people don’t notice things. A cute idiot. But if you’re gonna tell me that you and Peter both disappearing for a week right after he freaked out about me scenting you is a coincidence, then I’m going to have to call bullshit.”

“You know about that?” Y/N asked, suddenly sitting at attention.

Though her impromptu heat that she had absolutely no time to prepare for left her both physically and mentally drained and exhausted beyond recognition, she couldn’t believe that MJ had actually picked up on that.

“’Course,” she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “That backpack shit? I’ve never seen him so passive aggressive. And Christ, the smell. Every time he looked at me, the little shit would start smelling like Willy Wonka’s factory exploded. It wasn’t fun.”

“I’m sorry,” Y/N sighed. “It’s my fault.”

“No it’s not,” MJ assured her. She reached up, grabbing Y/N’s hand and gripping it tightly. She was still lying on the table so it was a difficult maneuver. “It was mine, if anything. I think that of all people, I should have known that he had a crush on you. I should have gone to Betty.”

“No, you’re okay. It’s just…” Y/N began. She brought her free hand up to rub at her eyes and pinch at her nose. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Okay,” MJ said, her expression turning serious.

“He—” she said, but felt the words catch in her throat. “He texted me, right? He wasn’t making any sense and then he stopped answering me. I thought he was dying so I went to go see him and when I got there…”

“He was rutting,” MJ nodded. “Yeah, I almost did that. Thank God my mom took my phone from me though or else Gwen would probably hate me.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Y/N said. “But yeah, he was rutting. Which was a huge shock to me because I never expected Peter to be an Alpha. Maybe a Beta, but before last week, I never thought that he’d… anyway. He triggered my heat early but May got me out of there. I just— I hate not knowing what would have happened if she hadn’t been there. Why did he text me? Me of all people. And he didn’t even bother to court me or anything before begging me to come help him. What was he thinking?”

“I feel like you should ask him that.”

“Yeah but he’s not here,” she continued. Her voice was laced with something akin to anger and she swallowed harshly in order to keep from raising her voice. “It’s been over a week. His rut should be over by now, right? I’ve been back at school for two days and I haven’t seen him once.”

“Maybe he’s hiding,” MJ said. She let their hands go and sat up straight again. “I did that. It’s not easy, you know. Presenting as Alpha.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Quit apologizing. I’m just saying. Peter’s really… gentle. I know what you mean about not understanding how he could be an Alpha. If I hadn’t smelled it on him last week I’d be just as shocked as you are. He’s too sweet to be an alpha, but people can’t help their biology. And I also get why he hasn’t come back yet. I thought the pack would hate me when I presented so I stayed home, but I got over it with help from them. So…”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” MJ said with a smile. “Maybe he needs just that. But not from the whole pack. Maybe he just needs reassurance from one person in particular.”

Y/N frowned to herself, startling when the final bell rang and students started packing their things up. She placed the book she had been using to ignore MJ in its place on the shelf beside their table. Swinging her backpack over her shoulder, she started walking out of the library and toward her locker as MJ fell into step beside her.

“Here, why don’t you call May?” MJ suggested. “You don’t have to talk to Peter but you can ask May how he’s doing. And based on what you told me, she’s probably worried about you, too.”

“I guess you’re right,” Y/N sighed.

“There’s no guessing involved, babe,” MJ smiled. “I’m always right, you’re just too weak to admit it.”

“Ha ha,” she replied sarcastically. “Don’t you have one of your dumb clubs to go to instead insulting me?”

“Yeah but insulting you is so much more fun,” she laughed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“See you.”

Without MJ, the walk through the hallway was unbearably quiet despite the constant buzz that came from the students bustling past her in all directions. She knew the commute home wasn’t going to be a pleasant one, but she squared her shoulders and set off toward her locker.

Peter wasn’t waiting for her like he usually was.

He wasn’t there to walk with her to the subway station.

He wasn’t there to keep her from falling over on the train each time it turned sharply.

Going home without him was so odd. It felt like something was missing, a part of her daily routine that had been so ingrained into her life those past two years that being without it just made her feel strange. She didn’t like it at all. But she’d been doing it for the last two days, and by now she was used to it.

Though that didn’t mean she had to be happy about it.

The train ride home was boring. Even though it was the New York subway, it was as if the whole city knew that something was wrong, because there weren’t any strange people to watch or anyone blasting music to take her mind off of things. No one had a dog in their bag that she could secretly pet, no one was dancing in the middle of the aisle, no one was doing anything remotely entertaining; so she just sat on the seat closest to the door and stared at her own reflection in the window opposite her. She looked miserable, but she felt it too, so it was fitting.

The air was cold and biting when she stepped out onto the street at her station. She shivered as the minuscule flakes of snow fell around her, not large enough to stick but persistent enough to make the atmosphere freeze around her. She crossed the street cautiously, careful not to slip on the black ice that clung to the asphalt, and stopped when she reached the other side.

Her phone was cold when her fingers closed around it inside her pocket.

Maybe MJ had been right. Maybe Peter needed her.

It took a moment for her to make up her mind, but she shook as she dialled the number for May’s cellphone.

She held it up to her ear as it rang.

The tables outside the small cafe just a few yards away from the intersection were empty given how cold it was outside, so she took advantage of them and sat down as she waited for May to pick up. The metal was frigid and she shivered unpleasantly.

“Hello?”

When she answered, May sounded tired. The usual enthusiasm that she gave when she answered the phone or greeted people was not there. Instead, there was the dull drone of her voice. It sounded like she hadn’t slept in days. And if that was the case then Y/N would not have been surprised.

“H-hi, May,” she stammered. “It’s Y/N.”

The change in demeanour from May, though it was just over the phone, was almost instantaneous.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” she exclaimed. “How are you? Are you feeling better? I’m so sorry about last week, if I’d have known, I never would have let him—”

“I’m okay, May,” she smiled. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” she assured. “But… I just wanted to call and ask how Peter’s doing. He hasn’t been coming to school and I—I got worried.”

“Oh,” May said. “He’s fine, sweetie. Just a little overwhelmed. We both are.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Y/N said. “Thanks. Just wanted to know for sure.”

“You sure you don’t wanna come see him?” May asked.

She froze on the spot, as if the cold from the seat under her had seeped into her bones and chilled her until she was motionless.

“What?”

“He’s been asking about you,” she said, and though Y/N couldn’t see it, she could hear the smile in May’s voice. “I’ve been trying to convince him to go back to school but he’s not listening to me. Maybe you can persuade him.”

“I-I don’t think that would be a good idea, May.”

Her heart was hammering away in her chest. She didn’t know why though.

“It would really help him,” she was saying. “Plus you two might be able to get some closure. He’s been beating himself up about calling you last week. He feels really bad.”

“May, I don’t think he wants to see me right now,” Y/N muttered. She glanced around as if worried someone was overhearing her but there was no one around except for the man sweeping snow away from his storefront across the street and the patrons of the cafe she was sitting in front of. At least no one had to witness her freaking out about something so mundane.

“I think you’re the only person he wants to see,” May said. “He won’t even let me in his room and he won’t come out to eat. I’m really worried about him. If not for him, then do it for me? You know how worried I get.”

“Is he really that bad?”

“Yeah,” May sighed. “He’s been sleeping for the past three days since his rut ended. But if you really think it’s a bad idea, I’ll let it go.”

Y/N was silent for a moment, watching as the man stopped sweeping to wave as one of his regulars entered the store. The cafe was radiating warmth and she wanted nothing more than to step inside and get herself a hot chocolate.

But Peter seemed to be in dire need.

“Okay,” she said finally. “I’m on my way.”

“Thank you,” May said. “Really. He’ll be happy and you get to put my mind at ease.”

“I’ll see you in a bit,” Y/N said.

“I’ll put the kettle on for you,” May smiled.

It had started snowing harder in the time it took her to end her phone call with May. And by the time she stood up and began walking toward Peter’s apartment building, the flakes were catching in her eyelashes as she tried to bury her chin into the collar of her sweater. She vaguely remembered leaving her jacket on May’s couch that day he called her over, so at least she’d be getting it back. It was far too cold out for an Omega.

And admittedly she was shaking as she placed one foot in front of the other, slowly making her way to where she was going.

But she wasn’t entirely certain it was because of the cold.

━━━━━━━━

She only had to knock once, her fist still raised when May opened the door. If she had thought that the woman sounded tired over the phone, then she had severely underestimated her.

May looked nothing short of exhausted.

The bags underneath her eyes, partially obscured behind her large glasses, were the first things that Y/N noticed. Dark crescent moons were etched in the soft skin there, proof she hadn’t had that much sleep during the last week or so. Her hair looked disheveled and she her eyes were heavy with a lack of sleep.

Y/N felt bad, and she smiled softly at her.

“Hi, May,” she greeted.

She was surprised when the woman pushed the door open and pulled her into her arms, a hand on the back of her head as she was squeezed in a tight embrace.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” May said with a sigh. “You had me worried for a while. Both of you did.”

“An early heat’s not gonna kill me,” Y/N laughed.

“I know, but I worry.”

“Yeah, I know.”

May let her go almost reluctantly, stepping back to allow her inside. The apartment smelled warm and inviting, and though it was barely there now, she could pick on the faintest traces of cocoa in the air. It seemed May hadn’t been exaggerating; it didn’t smell like Peter had spent any time out of his room at all.

Y/N smiled when she saw her jacket folded neatly on the couch. It looked like May had cleaned it for her, and her stomach flipped as she thought about why that might have been.

“Didn’t expect you so soon,” May was saying as she moved to the kitchen. “The water hasn’t even boiled yet so I can’t make you any tea.”

“I’m alright, May, thank you,” Y/N smile sheepishly. “Can… can I talk to Peter?”

May gave her a soft, gentle smile. A knowing one. Her expression softened and she nodded.

“I’ll tell him you’re here.”

Y/N followed slowly when May moved toward Peter’s bedroom door. She was only a few steps behind.

May rapped softly against the wood with her knuckles.

“Peter?” she called quietly. “Peter can I open the door?”

She was met with silence. Glancing over at Y/N and giving her an apologetic smile, she tried again.

“Peter, there’s someone here to—”

“I know.”

The response was so quiet that she thought she’d imagined it at first. Peter must have caught her scent the moment she stepped into the apartment. There was shuffling from inside his bedroom, a rustling of sheets as if he was getting out of bed, before he spoke again.

“You can let her in.”

May pushed the door open gently and motioned for Y/N to go in. She stepped toward the door and had to hold her breath at the scene she was met with.

Peter was sitting on the bottom bunk, the one he slept on, with both feet on the floor and looking like he’d spent the last three years rather than days of his life sleeping. His hair was sticking up in all directions, the giant shirt he wore was hanging off one shoulder and he wasn't wearing any pants. The blinds of his bedroom were shut, making it hard for her to make out the expression on his face.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

Sure, Peter looked like a mess, but the smell that began to seep into the hallway the second the door was opened almost knocked her off her feet.

It was different than she remembered. Before, Peter had smelled like hot chocolate on a cold winter’s day. Like a chocolate bar that had been left in the sun too long and melted. But as she breathed in sharply through her nose, she realized his presentation had done so much to his scent.

It was rich and molten. Gooey. It reminded her of lava cake. Like dark chocolate smoothed over fruit. The air was heavy with it, hot and swollen like a bubble. As thick as chocolate syrup. It made it difficult to breathe.

“I’ll be in the living room,” May muttered, shutting the door behind her.

Y/N didn’t know how long she was standing in the doorway of his room just looking at him. But he wasn’t looking at her.

No, Peter was staring at his hands as they gripped the bottom of his shirt.

“Hi.”

He didn’t respond right away. For a moment Y/N was afraid that he hadn’t heard her. But she saw the way he tensed at the sound of her voice and she knew that he had.

He was reluctant to meet her gaze.

“Hey.”

“Can I—” she began, but the words caught in her throat. She swallowed thickly and felt the warmth of melted chocolate slide down her throat. “Can I sit down?”

“Yeah.”

She moved at a snail’s pace, careful not to scare him away. It was better that way. She didn’t know how he was doing or what he was thinking.

Peter moved from his spot to lean against the wall at the head of his bed, legs crossing underneath him as Y/N took a seat on the mattress with her back leaning against the ladder that led up to the top bunk. Peter eyed her carefully as she adjusted herself. He didn’t dare move a muscle.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered then.

It caught her off guard, and when she looked up at him, he looked like he was about to cry. His eyes were glassy as he looked at his hands.

“Peter—”

“It’s all my fault,” he went on. “And I get it if you don’t wanna be friends with me anymore. It’d be weird after… after what happened. So if that’s what you came here to tell me, then I understand.”

“Peter,” she said gently. Her voice was heavy with sadness and it made him finally meet her gaze. “I came here to check on you because I’m worried about you.”

His brows furrowed. “Why?”

Y/N shook her head almost incredulously, giving a dull laugh as she glanced around his room.

“I haven’t seen you in a week,” she said. “You won’t return my calls or answer my texts. You haven’t been showing up to school. I thought something happened.”

“I’m fine,” Peter said.

“Clearly, you’re not,” she went on. “And what is this about not wanting to be friends anymore? Do you really think I’d do that to you?”

“I—”

“Peter, I’m here because I care about you,” she said with a sigh. “If I didn’t… I don’t know. I don’t know what would happen because I can’t imagine not caring about you.”

Peter was silent as he let his legs stretch across the bed. Since it was so small, his knee brushed against Y/N’s thigh and he sighed.

“Thanks,” he whispered.

They were silent for a moment longer. Y/N took the time to look more closely at her surroundings, noticing all of the things that were out of place. A few of the Star Wars LEGO sets that had once lined his shelves were shattered along the floor. She remembered how happy Peter had been when he completed them with Ned, while she and MJ sat at the dining table doing their homework. She thought of his boisterous laugh as he and Ned did their ridiculous handshake that she always secretly loved, and how he’d rush over and brush their homework away, ignoring MJ’s curses as he set the completed piece in the centre of the table like a trophy. He must have been really frustrated to break them like that. It hurt her to think about.

After a moment, she looked back over at Peter. He was looking at her, and she felt her cheeks redden.

There was one thing she wanted to ask him more than anything else. One thing in particular.

The words sat at the tip of her tongue and yet whenever she tried to ask it was like there was a spell on her preventing her from uttering them. But she was never going to get any closure if she didn’t ask him.

So she took a deep breath.

It tasted like campfire s’mores.

“Did you mean it?” she asked.

Peter looked away. He knew what she meant.

“Mean what?” he asked quietly.

“All those things you said,” she continued. “On the phone… in person… I just—I wanna know i-if it was just something you said in the moment because of your rut or if you—”

“Yeah.”

The silence that followed was so intense that she could hear her own heart beating out of control.

“Yeah, I meant it,” Peter said. “That’s why I… why I get it if you don’t want—”

“Really?” she asked.

The look in Peter’s eyes when he glanced up at her was one she’d never seen before. She thought she could read him based on his eyes, thought she knew him well enough to know what he was thinking, but this was foreign to her.

The dark irises were serious and sharp, seeming to look straight through her. They held an authority in them that she didn’t recognize, something that she took one look at and her mind begged her to submit.

Begged her to present herself.

She almost bared her throat at him.

“Yes,” he said sharply. “I meant it.”

It was obvious that he didn’t have control of his classification yet. Because here he was, staring an Omega down as his emotions got the better of him, and making her hold back a whimper. It was the most ‘Alpha’ display that she had ever seen come from him.

Y/N had to bite her tongue to keep from making a noise. Her eyes were wide in shock and surprise. Though that didn’t mean it was necessarily a bad thing.

Peter must have thought he was scaring her.

Because his eyes softened in an instant and his expression turned sad. Concerned. He held his hands out in front of him as if to show he meant her no harm.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry,” he said frantically. “I-I didn’t mean–”

With a groan, he brought his hands up to his face, pressing his palms over both eyes and and throwing his head back against the wall. It hit the plaster with a thud and Y/N grimaced at the sound of the impact.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Peter, it’s oka—”

“No, it’s not!”

She jumped at his outcry, though he hadn’t yelled. But he’d been so quiet before that she couldn’t help it. She wasn’t expecting it. He went on, his anger coming through in his scent. Y/N pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth and tasted charcoal.

“I-I shouldn’t have called you that day,” he stammered. His hands slip up to grip at his hair. “I triggered your heat early and you went through so much shit because of me. And I didn’t even fucking court you or anything and I’m such a dick for doing that do to you. And then…”

He trailed off, his voice quieting as he let go of his hair and brought his hands back to his lap, palms up and staring at his fingers.

“And then I use…” he began. “I use my stupid fucking status against you. I didn’t mean to but I-I don’t know how to control it yet. And I know I scared you, I know and I’m sorry. I just—”

This time, it was Peter’s turn to jump.

He flinched as warm fingers brushed against his own. He looked up at her so fast, she was afraid he would get whiplash.

Y/N’s arm was extended, reaching across the small space between them on the mattress and touching his fingertips gently. She was focused on his hand, not looking up at him, but Peter couldn’t take his eyes off her face.

He was completely and utterly stunned.

Y/N pressed the tip of her forefinger against the tip of his middle finger, just at the spot where his short nails ended. She watched as he flinched under her touch, the tendons in his fingers jumping slightly. But she waited until his hand relaxed. She waited for him.

And when he did, she moved her hand forward, brushing the length of her fingers against his. Her fingertips rested against the top of his palm and she tapped gently. His skin was warm and soft. She should hear him breathing heavily above her.

In one gentle, fluid motion, she moved both hands under his, cupping the back of his hands with her palms. She scooted closer to him on the bed so she didn’t have to reach so far and heard his breath catch. He was already doing better. He didn’t smell burnt anymore, just… sour. But sweet at the same time. He was nervous.

Y/N smiled softly at his hands.

She couldn’t remember how many times she wanted to do this. Touch him like this, hold his hands. She always thought they were pretty.

But holding them now, her fingers against the back of his wrist, was better than she could have imagined.

“What are you—”

“Be quiet for a second,” she whispered. Her hands slid up his arms until her thumbs were just below his wrists. “Let me do this.”

She could have sworn she heard him swallow nervously.

When she pressed the pad of her thumbs against his wrists, it was like he exploded.

She was surrounded by him. His scent. Completely and entirely and she didn’t want it any other way. Her thumb rubbed slow circles against his soft skin and she heard his breath stutter. He was already calming down. The sour note in his scent had dissipated and all she could smell was… him. It was almost peaceful. She watched as the scent gland in his wrist grew swollen from the attention.

And when his fingers brushed against her own scent gland, the knuckle of his forefinger dragging against the spot she mirrored, she almost cried.

He turned his hands over, carefully making her let go, before he looked up and into her eyes.

Was he… asking for permission?

Y/N almost laughed when she met his gaze.

Almost.

She would have if she wasn’t so busy taking him by the arm and leading his hand toward her free one. She moved her body along the mattress until she was sitting next to him, wrists aligned with Peter’s arm hovering over hers but not touching. Not yet.

She took a deep breath in through her mouth before she moved her hand up, letting them brush together.

This time she did laugh when they touched.

It was airy and gentle, full of relief. Her eyes clouded over but she was still smiling, still laughing down at their hands.

Peter’s fingers shook as they carefully came down to grip hers, pressing between them and squeezing tightly.

She couldn’t tell if it was real or not anymore.

Leaning against his shoulder and giving his hand a firm squeeze, she let out a sigh.

Peter had relaxed enough now, and she deemed it alright to keep talking.

“You’re not an idiot, Peter,” she said. The words were spoken like a whisper, because if she said them too loudly, she worried she’d break whatever veil of peace had settled over them for the moment. “You’re the smartest guy I know. And it’s not your fault, okay?”

Peter said nothing.

She glanced up at him then, and as she did, she saw the tear roll down his cheek as he looked down at their intertwined fingers.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. His lip quivered as he spoke.

And it was then that she decided she couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t take him torturing himself like this any longer.

When she let his hand go, he looked up at her with a worried expression, frightened he’d done something wrong. But his eyes grew wide when her hands came up to his face and he let himself be guided into a crouching position as she pressed his nose against her neck. Just under her jaw. Right against her scent gland.

“Please stop,” she muttered. “Please stop apologizing. It’s not your fault, Peter. Please listen to me.”

He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t dare to, not even as her fingers brushed through his hair, nails scratching softly at his scalp and then smoothing his curls down with her palm. He couldn’t bring himself to.

But he knew he couldn’t last like that forever.

He breathed in gently at first, testing the waters, and when the scent of her hit him, his eyes fluttered closed. He wondered why he’d ever tried to hold himself back.

The syrupy sweetness of her seemed to swallow him whole.

His arms came up around her waist but he didn’t remember moving them. He gripped her tightly and pulled her against him, trying to get as much of her as he could. She helped him in his scent-drunk state, parting her legs and kneeling on either side of his own. She tried to stay up but he wasn’t having it. No, Peter needed all of her.

With one firm tug against her, she straddled his lap, sitting on the tops of his thighs. He hadn’t let her go and he hadn’t stopped crying.

The tears were surprisingly warm against her neck.

She breathed in sharply, eyes flying open when she felt the first press of his lips against her throat. His nose continued to poke and prod at her scent gland, and he drank up the scent of her like a man parched. He was shaking underneath her.

“Peter—”

“Don’t leave me,” he muttered. “I take back what I said before, please don’t—”

“Hey,” she cooed. Her hands stopped their stroking of his hair and she moved to grip his cheeks, lifting him up to face her.

He moved reluctantly, not wanting to leave the source of her delicious scent, but he let himself be maneuvered nonetheless. When she met his eyes, they were teary and red.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she assured him.

His eyes went wide and Y/N felt her heart tug.

“Promise?” he whispered.

“I promise,” she smiled.

And that was it. Or at least, that’s all either of them remembered.

Because the next thing they knew, Peter had pushed himself up against her with her hands still on his cheeks and his lips were pressed flush against hers.

He was firm against her. Grounding. As if she would turn out to be a figment of his imagination if he was too gentle.

His lips were soft and warm against hers. They fit together like puzzle pieces. She belonged on his lap with her hands on his face, and Peter belonged underneath her, hands sliding up her back and pressing his lips against hers.

They pulled away for a moment, gasping for air. It appeared neither of them had breathed during the kiss, scared to shatter the moment.

But it was over now.

It had happened.

There were nothing more to hide.

This time it was Y/N who pushed toward him, hands squeezing his cheeks as she kissed his mouth again. It wasn’t like the one before. It wasn’t like those closed-mouth kisses that she’d seen so many times before, the kind you do when you’re in ninth grade and you’ve never kissed anyone before. No, this one was different.

They moved in time with one another, Peter’s body pressing into hers and breathing heavy through his nose. She tasted like clementines.

This kiss was different in the sense that it was faster, hotter; full of demanding bites along her bottom lip from Peter and her hands sliding into his hair and gripping the locks so tightly, she feared she’d scalp him. But he didn’t seem to care, because he groaned against her open mouth.

He pulled back after a moment, still panting and his hair even more disheveled than before, if that was possible.

There were no words exchanged between them.

Peter simply looked into her eyes a moment longer, cheeks red from both his tears and the kiss, before he hugged her tightly and pressed his head right under her chin.

Y/N laughed gently, her hands resuming their stroking along his hair.

“Stay with me,” he muttered, lips moving against her collarbone.

She laughed again, the wide smile never leaving her face.

“Well,” she said.

Peter could hear the happiness in her voice, and he almost growled against her chest in content. Almost.

“I made a promise, didn’t I?”

━━━━━━━━

A/N: i feel like this had to happen. next chapter will be the finale. and it will be.... a lot. just remember i love you.

read it on ao3 add yourself to my taglist! like my work? check out my commissions!

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