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tldrthor · 5 months ago

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Come find me - peter parker x avenger!female!reader

Part two to promises, oceans deep // we both did the best we could do underneath the same moon, and in different galaxies // based on the song 'Peter' by Taylor Swift

Summary: you thought you would get over him, but you never did. It takes getting hurt, and Cap looking out for you, for you to finally get your head straight.

Author's notes: I ignore a lot of post-endgame stuff. Steve never left, Wanda isn't evil, Peter was never forgotten. I've left reader and Peter's ages semi-ambiguous, so you can decide for yourself what age you think is appropriate!

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You said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me.

Peter opened his eyes slowly, the light streaming in from the window attacking them. He must have fallen asleep without closing the curtains last night. As he came to, he realised what day it was. And a chill ran through his body.

"Peter!" May called. "Peter, get up! We're going to be late!" She rushed into the room, her nose curling up in disgust at presumably, the smell of depressed teenage boy. "God, we have to open a window in here. It's toxic."

He huffed, and rolled away from her. "May, I don't want to go." He had spoken about this with her already. He knew that Ned and MJ were going, but he didn't want to. He couldn't go, when she wasn't going to be there.

"Is it because of (y/n)?" May's voice was soft, gentle. Like she was talking to a scared, little animal. He hated the pity laced in her words. "I'm sorry she's not going to be there sweetheart, you know she's got a lot going on with rebuilding the Avengers."

You said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me.

He swallowed, sadness crossing his face, but May didn't see it. "She's avoiding me, anyways."

Words from the mouths of babes, promises, oceans deep. But never to keep. Oh, never to keep.

May didn't say anything to Peter, but she thought it was for the best. She knew how devastating it was, for both of you, to come back to see one of you had kept moving, while the other stayed in place. She saw, in the few weeks following the battle at the compound, how you looked like you was going to be sick every time you were around Peter.

She saw how you barely talked, barely smiled, barely did anything.

She hadn't been around for the five long years between the snaps, but from what she talked about with Captain Rogers, you had taken the losses particularly badly.

Snapping back to the present, she looked at Peter and wondered if you would ever find your way back to one another. She made a mental note to ask Steve how you were doing when she saw him later.

"Let's go, come on." She held his shoulder and gave it a shake. "Your parent's would've killed me if I ever let you skip your graduation."

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The day was a blur. MJ and Ned gave him a hug on arrival, knowing that he didn't want to be here. All he could feel was the loss sitting heavy on his chest. Tony wasn't here. Natasha wasn't here. His parents weren't here. Uncle Ben. You.

There were photos and smiles and drinks. He forced himself to get through it, for May, if nothing else.

Steve gave him a big hug as soon as he saw him, knowing that he was a poor replacement for who Peter really wanted to see. "Hey! Congratulations, Pete!" He gave him a signature pat on the shoulder as Peter muttered a 'thanks, cap' back at him. Steve continued; "(y/n) sends her regards, she's sorry she couldn't come."

Peter bitterly thought that Steve was just telling him what he wanted to hear. He knew that if you wanted to be here, you would have made it happen. He wanted to be mad... but he knew this day would be too painful for you, too.

I won't confess that I waited, but I let the lamp burn. As the men masqueraded, I hoped you'd return.

At dinner, he was distracted. MJ and Ned were talking about the latest political news -- MJ talked about some senators voting record, while Ned relayed funny memes he had found on instagram about her. This obviously descended into chaos.

Peter was more interested in the conversation going on at the other end of the table, between May and Steve.

"So tell me, how is (y/n)?" May asked, looking at your guardian.

He looked almost... resigned. He breathed out, worry lines creasing his forehead. Peter could nearly feel the worry radiating off of him. "She's doing... okay. She's throwing herself into work at the moment, somewhere in Europe. It's all tightly under wraps, but she's an amazing agent these days."

May smiled, weakly. She knew that an avenger 'throwing themselves into work' was a worrying symptom of an emotional storm. She could see it in her own kid.

"Well, tell her we were asking for her when you talk to her next."

"I will. Thanks, May."

Peter had to know more. It was like a burning, aching in his chest. He watched as Steve silently ate his pasta, something - you - on his mind. He knew Steve hadn't said everything to May. Peter longed for the days where he would've known what you were up to.

"Pete, will you tell him to not infantilise politicians!" MJ finally snapped him out of it. Ned laughed at her outburst.

Peter snapped his head back to them. "Yeah, yeah. Ned, it's like... not good for democracy. Or whatever." He felt bad actually, because it was a good point. He just didn't have the energy to back her up right now.

"Ugh! They are employed for us." She groaned.

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Peter's back was aching. He stretched it out, trying to power through the ache that came with changing position. Shit, he looked at the clock. It was 3am, and he had been sitting working on this assignment for way, way longer than he anticipated.

Just as he stood up to get ready for bed, his phone flashed, illuminating the room.

"What. the. hell." He said to no one. It was a text from you. God, he hadn't even seen you in more than a year now. Whenever you returned from the top-secret missions you were sent on, you were always mysteriously busy whenever Pete was free, or around. He knew you stayed at Cap's new townhouse in Brooklyn with him, but every time Peter went around, you had always just left. And every single time, Steve gave him a pitying smile while informing him that you had really urgent business to return to, but you were really sorry to miss him.

Are you up?

The text message read. Peter felt like he went through all the stages of grief reading it. He opened it immediately, cursing and praying to Jesus that he didn't have read receipts on. He hurriedly swiped off the message app when the typing bubble came up again.

Not a booty call, I promise.

He almost laughed at that. Almost.

Yeah, are you okay? He replied.

As soon as he had sent it, there was a tap tap tap at the window. He froze for a moment, his heart beat reaching an almost crescendo.

And then, he was moving.

He ripped back the curtain, threw open the window. And there you were. Hunched in the darkness of the fire escape, in a way that immediately, Peter knew something was wrong.

"(y/n)? What are you doing - are you hurt?" He watched as you moved at a near snail's pace from the way you were uncomfortably slumped on the fire escape to enter his room.

The light barely lit up the soft, painful smile as you looked up at him. "Hi, Pete." There was almost a slur in your words. Peter's eyebrows knitted together in both confusion and concern. His arms found your waist as he supported you in moving in through the window and to his bed.

Once you were settled, he strode across the room and flicked the small lamp on. He did not like what he saw.

Although your suit was black, he could tell that it was nearly soaked through with blood. Your nose was trickling blood steadily, and there was a large patch of crimson next to your ear, on your hairline. The skin he could see was littered with bruises even where it wasn't streaked with blood.

"Shit, (y/n)." He dove under his bed, to where he kept the first aid stuff from when he went out patrolling. He ran his hands through it, quickly finding suture material and bandages.

Thank god he had restocked recently, or you could've been in serious trouble. To be honest, you were in trouble either way.

He tried to triage your wounds. From what he could tell, the gash on your side that you were holding seemed to be where a lot of the blood on your torso was coming from. "You're, uhh... going to have to take off your suit, so I can see the damage."

He flushed as he said it. And he swore that he could see your face getting warmer, too. But he was so preoccupied on, you know, not letting you die, that he didn't properly register it.

"Sure, yeah." You reached your arm around to the zip, but as you moved your wounds screamed in pain. You hissed through your teeth and swore, quietly. You were all too aware that May was probably sleeping in the room next door, and you had to be quiet.

Peter reached out, "Let me help," He spoke under his breath. He unzipped you and you slowly shuffled off your suit, wearing some gym shorts and a sports bra underneath.

With the suit off, Peter could see exactly the kind of state you were in. Not only from the fight you had obviously been in, but you also looked unhealthy, almost weak. He remembered a you that always looked so strong, sturdy. This wasn't the person he was seeing in front of him now.

There were scars that were recent but clearly had begun to heal, there was bruises over every part of your body. The biggest gash on your side oozed thick, maroon blood. Looking at your face, he could see that your cheekbones were nearly hollow, your eyes sunken, and the bags under them unmistakeable.

Nothing like the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed teenager he used to love.

"What happened?" He looked into your eyes as he began to tend to the wounds. Which was difficult, considering you were more wound than human at this point. He cleaned up around you gash, and then muttered 'this is going to hurt' as he began to exhibit the skills you had learned from Steve's mandatory 'basic field medicine' course a few years back.

"Ow, fuck." You mumbled, your voice strained. "I got into a fight."

"Well, yeah. I had actually figured that one out." He didn't look at you for concentrating on stitching. "A little more explanation would be good."

You breathed out slowly through the pain. "Okay, I got into a big fight."

He rolled his eyes. He clearly wasn't going to get very much information from you.

"Was it a mission?" He asked.

"No, it was - jesus." You cursed once again. It was really hard to talk while someone was continuously piercing a needle into your abdomen. "Extracurricular, you could say."

He looked up. "(y/n), this doesn't look like just a quick neighbourhood patrol." He knew you were keeping information from him because you thought he wouldn't approve.

"Why did you come here?"

You broke his eye contact. "I was nearby, and Brooklyn is a hell of a trek when you can't swing through the city." He nodded, it was a logical answer. He would always welcome you here, no matter what happened between you guys personally. He was glad you seemed to know that. "And... Cap can't know about this."

Peter's concern seemed to grow with everything you said, and you could clearly see it on his face.

"Please, Peter... He's worried already, I know it. And he's semi-retired, he deserves to rest without worrying about me." You pleaded.

He was slow to accept what you were saying. "But he's practically your dad, (y/n), he raised you. You don't think he would want to know that you're injured? Badly injured, might I add. I don't think this is even something our medical training can cover..."

You raised an eyebrow. "So, you tell Aunt May every time you get hurt?"

"Well, I've not been hurt as badly as you have."

"And if you were, you would tell her?"

He broke eye contact, and looked away. You didn't have to acknowledge out loud that he knew you were right.

With your feet on the ground, tell me all that you learned. 'Cause loves never lost when perspective is earned.

The silence that hung in the air was an awkward one. It suddenly caught up to you both, what was happening. Sitting in your shorts and sports bra, on the boy you used to date's bed. The same boy you had successfully managed to avoid for the best part of a year -- with the exception of Steve's christmas party last year. Just thinking about the awkward, heart-achy small talk made a shiver roll down your spine.

"Do you want to stay here?"

The question felt loaded. Want? Need? The lines were blurred.

"If... that's okay? I can't go back to Steve's like this."

He nodded. "You know you're always welcome here. You take the bottom bunk, obviously.” He smiled.

These bunk beds used to annoy the hell out of the both of you. You just wanted to sleep wrapped in each other’s arms, but May and Cap had insisted that if you were going to stay round, it had to be bunk beds. And the door had to stay open.

The nostalgia made your eyes sting. It didn’t take a lot to do that these days, to be fair.

Peter jumped into the top bunk, and switched the light off. “Goodnight, (y/n).” He whispered, softly, to the darkness.

“Night, Pete.” You muttered in return.

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That night was the best sleep you’ve had since… hell, you couldn’t even remember when. It was probably the blood loss, or…

No, it was definitely the blood loss. For sure.

A sweet scent caught your attention as you adjusted your eyes to the sunlight filtering through the moth-eaten curtains. And the noise… music, clanging of pots, mumbling.

You checked your phone. “Well, shit.”

7.24am. 38 missed calls from “Cap 🦅🫡”.

There were texts as well.

2am: Everything okay? When should I expect you back?

2.24am: Sweetheart?

3.46am: (y/n), I’m getting worried, what’s going on?

4am: Okay, stop playing now. Call me.

6am: You’re in big trouble if this isn’t an emergency, kid.

Shit, shit, shit.

You jolted up, immediately letting out a yelp of pain as you remembered exactly why you were here in the first place. Fuck.

You pressed your hand to your stomach, with a little blood coming away with your hand. Shoddy workmanship, you laughed. You would have to sort it later.

Pulling on your suit from yesterday - thankfully, the blood stains blended in with the dark material - you realised getting home inconspicuously wasn’t going to be super easy. You listened to whatever was going on in the kitchen, the music that you recognised from when you and Peter were together. It all felt so familiar. Too familiar.

And you said you’d come and get me but you were 25, and the shelf life of those fantasies had expired. Lost to the lost boys chapter of your life, Forgive me Peter, please know that I tried to hold on, to the days where you were mine.

You weren’t proud of it, but you opened the window, and climbed out.

You didn’t see Peter’s face fall when he returned to the room, with a stack of pancakes in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. You didn’t see him stare at the smiley face made of whipped cream, mutter “I’m an idiot” and throw the stack away.

You didn’t see the tears fall.

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The aches and pains that pulsed through your body only grew worse the closer you got to Cap’s house. Climbing the stairs felt like a mammoth task, but as you got to the top and put your key in, the door opened -

He was mad mad. You stood in a sort of pseudo-staring contest for what felt like a long time, unsure whether or not it would be appropriate to look away. His eyebrows were furrowed further than you had ever seen, bags under his eyes larger than they had been for a long time.

“Get inside.” He borderline hissed at you. You didn’t respond, just walked. Slowly, subconsciously covering your bleeding side with your arm.

As you walked into the living room, familiar voices greeted you.

“What time do you call this?” Bucky stood by the fireplace, his arms crossed.

Sam sat on the couch in front of him, nursing a cup of coffee. Coffee so strong, you could smell it from the other side of the room. “You look like shit.”

You looked down. “Sorry, guys. I didn’t mean to worry anyone.”

Steve put a firm hand on your shoulder. Still wordless. He pushed you towards the couch, and then down onto it.

He sat next to Sam on the one opposite, Bucky moving to sit on the other side of him. It felt like a judging panel. You supposed that’s exactly what it was.

“Explain.” Steve started. His gaze not becoming any kinder as he looked at you.

“I was with a friend-” You started.

“Which one?” Steve asked, pointedly.

You swallowed. “Um,”

“You’re lying, (y/n).” He folded his arms and leaned back. “I phoned all of your friends, you weren’t with any of them. You said to Sam after training yesterday that you were heading straight home, and here you waltz in nearly 12 hours later. Tell the truth.”

“Fine.” You sighed. You knew he was telling the truth, there was no point trying to call his bluff. “I was at Peter’s.”

You watched every one of them raise an eyebrow at the same time, nearly comedically timed. Steve sat forward in his seat.

“Parker’s? Why?” He tilted his head at you. You were glad that the anger seemed to have somewhat subsided, but you weren’t in the clear yet.

You swallowed. “I, uh…”

Sam started laughing. “Oh my god, (y/n)… you dog!” He looked at Bucky and Steve, who painfully slowly caught on to what he was referring to.

“No! No, no. No. Not that, it wasn’t like that.” You felt the heat in your cheeks and prayed that it wasn’t showing to them too, although something in Sam’s gleeful expression, Steve’s embarrassed blush and Bucky’s quiet enjoyment of the situation suggested otherwise.

“(y/n), I’m at a loss right now.” Steve shook his head. “I don’t understand. Lately, you’ve been disappearing, being secretive - I mean, last I heard you didn’t want to be around Pete at all. And now you stayed at his with no explanation whatsoever, when we were all out looking for you last night?”

Your heart sank, thinking of them worried and out on the streets looking for you. You never could lie to them for long - you should just come clean.

You gave a big sigh. “I got hurt while trying to stop a robbery in Queens, and I didn’t know where else to go.”

With that, they all sat up straight. Grim expressions replaced the more relaxed ones that you had fought so hard to keep.

“Hurt? Where?” Steve immediately stood up from his spot and marched over to your couch, scanning you over with his eyes.

You pulled your hand away from the side, where it had stayed for the duration of this interrogation. It was covered in blood.

All three men immediately jumped into action upon seeing the blood. "Woah!" Sam shouted, running for the extensive medical kit Steve kept in the kitchen.

Steve knitted his eyebrows together while putting his arm around you, looking into your eyes, presumably looking for any sort of concussion or mental delay. "You've been sitting here bleeding this whole time?" He sighed, and then sort of mumbled under his breath, "What is going on with you?"

Bucky grabbed a can of coke from the fridge and brought it over to you. "Drink it, you need sugar." You could tell from his tone that he was annoyed.

"Thanks, Buck." You whispered in return.

You watched your adoptive father's worried expression as he looked at the wounds you had sustained, and the haphazard stitches that Peter had put in last night (and the blood coming through them where they hadn't been done properly).

He fixed you, properly, and bandaged the stitches just to be sure. Sam and Bucky hand him things, making jokes occasionally that you smile at, but it does nothing to improve the cloudy look in Steve's eyes.

"Guys, can you give us a second." He ushers Bucky and Sam out of the room. Sam gets up and leads Bucky away, who still looked furious. You knew he probably wasn't this pissed off at you, and rather the people who had hurt you, but you couldn't be entirely sure. Once you're alone, Cap comes and sits next to you on the couch. "Do you have wounds anywhere else?"

You shake your head. "Just bruises and minor cuts, nothing big."

"Okay," He pursed his lips. "Let's talk then."

You avoided meeting his eyes.

"Tell me what's going on, in there." He tapped the side of your head, just like he used to do when you were a teenager at the Compound upstate. Before everyone came back.

You sighed. "I feel like an asshole." He put a friendly hand on your shoulder. "I'm really sorry for worrying you, and Sam and Bucky. I'm trying not to do that, at all. That's why I didn't come back last night."

He sighs. "Sweetheart, you should never be worrying about me. It's my job to worry about you." He puts a loving arm round your shoulder.

He took a second, considering what he was going to say before continuing, "You've not been the same since the Blip, and I know it's hard. But you have to start living again." It was nothing he hadn't said before.

"But I don't really... have anything other than work. Keeping people safe."

"Hey, hey. That's not true. You have us. You know we're your family."

"Yeah, no... I know. But I just... my friends were all blipped, and Peter..." You felt a tear spring to your eye. It had been a while since you had cried about it. "I've not felt normal since they left, and then when they came back... and I was so much older."

He rubbed your back as he watched a single tear fall.

"(y/n), Peter is older now, too. And I know he never got over you, either... why don't you talk to him?"

"I think I might have burned the bridge, Cap. I snuck out the window this morning while I think he was making breakfast."

He gave you a disapproving look that made you feel like a child being scolded. "That's not very nice, kid. I think you should chat to him."

"Yeah, I guess so." You moved to get up from the couch, but sat right back down when a shooting pain radiated up nearly your entire body. "Shit."

"Hey, hey! Sit down!" Steve pushed you back down. "On second thoughts, why don't you invite him and May round for dinner? You're not going anywhere, kid."

"Yeah, that sounds better." You laughed, meekly. "Although I have to shower..."

"I'll call Wanda to help you out with that." His quick, embarrassed tone made you laugh.

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"Hey, there she is!" Sam shouted as you walked back into the kitchen where they were diligently making dinner. Wanda walked past you to the fridge, pulling out a soda. "How are you feeling?" He asked.

"Better, thanks Sam." He nodded in approval at your response.

"You look better, you know that. You looked like death warmed up earlier, and that's not even an exaggeration." You rolled your eyes at him, "You've even managed to dress nice for the occasion! It's been a while since I've seen you in anything but sweats." You pushed his shoulder, stopping the incessant chatter.

Bucky threw an arm around your shoulder. "You're a chip off the old block, y'know. Just like Stevie." You watched as it was Steve's turn to roll his eyes at his friend's antics.

The doorbell rang through the house, ending the moment. Your heart thudded in your chest, a wave of nausea overtaking your stomach. "That'll be May and Peter, I'll grab the door." Steve gave you a knowing look, like he could read your mind. "Are you going to be okay?"

You nodded, slowly, taking deep breaths. Wanda slung her arms over your shoulder, whispering "you're going to be just fine." She pressed a kiss to your cheek.

"Hi, Steve," May Parker's soothing voice carried through to the kitchen. All four of you remaining in the kitchen wandered through the hall to meet your guests.

When May's eyes fell to you, you could swear there was a tear in them. But it was gone almost as quick as you could tell. "Oh my darling girl," She wrapped you in a hug, squeezing tight. It kind of hurt, but you were desperate to not let it show. You needed this. "It's been far too long, we've missed you so much."

"I know May, I'm sorry I haven't dropped by." You apologised as she dropped the hug. She put a loving hand on your face, and smiled sweetly.

"Don't be silly, sweetie. You have nothing to apologise for." Unfortunately, she didn't know the half of what you had to apologise for.

As it came to your turn to greet Peter, your heart pounded. The others ruffled his hair, lightly bullied him over how dressed up he was. It was only a shirt and sweater, you didn't really see the problem. But Bucky and Sam were always on the lookout for ways to playfully get under spiderboy's skin.

"I think you look nice." You blurted out, almost involuntarily. Bucky and Sam smirked at your outburst, and you suddenly realised that maybe they weren't goading Peter, they were goading you.

"Uh, thanks... you look better," As it came out of his mouth, he realised that he was alluding to something you had asked him not to tell them. "Oh, um, I mean like good, you look good."

You laughed a little. "It's okay, Pete. I told them, we're good."

Steve interrupted, a firm hand on Peter's shoulder. "So, Pete. I hear you've been aiding my daughter to keep secrets from me." Peter gulped at his words. "Relax, kid. I'm just messing. Although we definitely have to improve your stitching skills because that was sloppy."

May stood, confused. "Peter, do you want to catch me up to speed here?"

"Sorry, May." Steve said. "I'll explain what these rascals have been up to." He linked arms with her and wandered towards the dining room with everyone else following. Leaving you and Peter standing in the hallway.

You finally flung your arms around Peter. "You told them?" He asked, at least a modicum of relief behind his words.

You nod. "I kind of had to, they had been out last night looking for me. I felt bad." You swallowed, and realised this was a good time to apologise. "Thank you for helping me out last night, I don't know what I would have done without you."

His arm raised to the back of his neck, as he looked away from you. "Hey, no problem. Anytime."

"I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye."

"It's... alright, (y/n). You had to get home, I understand."

"No, Peter. It was shitty of me to do that to you. I'm sorry."

He smiled, his hand moving towards yours. When he got there, he wrapped yours in his, and gave a loving squeeze. It was the most romantic contact you had had since... well, since him. You were surprised that it felt so normal.

"Let's get dinner." He whispered. You nodded in agreement.

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You said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me.

Dinner was as dinner usually is. It was delicious, clearly Steve had been cooking a lot since he took a step back from the Avengers. Sam and Bucky argued while Wanda, Steve and May talked a lot about current events. You and Peter chatted mostly about what your friends were up to, and what your plans were.

"I'm thinking of going full-time with the avengers." Peter revealed. Your eyes widened, knowing that when you were younger, that's all you had both wanted. To be fighting alongside each other, permanently.

"Peter, that's amazing!" You breathed out. "But what about college, didn't you want to go to MIT?"

"Nah," He smiled. "Changed my mind. Don't think I could do avenging and college at the same time. Plus, Tony left a bunch of science stuff behind for me to finish off, so I would have my own lab at the new facility anyway."

You couldn't help the wide grin that adorned your features. "When would you move?"

"I could move anytime. Are you um, planning to go to the new facility?" He asked.

"Yeah, I was hoping to split my time between here and there." You looked over at Steve, talking with May. He didn't need you here. You knew he would love for you to stay, but he would be just fine without you. Plus, he was only semi retired. He'd probably be at the new facility more than you. "I know Bucky and Sam are going over there full-time, that's why they're crashing here for now."

"Oh, great." He sarcastically rolled his eyes and laughed.

Your conversation was interrupted by Bucky shouting over to you, "Hey, kid! Tell everyone about the time you tripped yourself up and accidentally caught the bad guy."

"Bucky, stop telling everyone about that!"

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"Hey, do you want to go swinging?" Peter whispered, as everyone started clearing plates.

You eyed Cap nervously, knowing that you couldn't leave without telling him, again. Not after your heart to heart earlier. There was no way he would let you swing with Peter, not with as many stitches as you had.

"Maybe just a walk?" You mentioned to Peter. He glanced down at your side, where he had seen the wound last night, and agreed.

You both got up, clearing your dishes as you went. "You ask him." You whispered to Peter while the older avengers and May were still in conversation.

"What? No, you ask him." He harshly whispered back. You rolled your eyes.

"Hey, Cap?" You got the attention of everyone still at the dining table.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Would it be okay if Peter and I went on a walk?"

"Of course, honey. But no swinging," he sternly looked at Peter. "and wear a jacket, it's cold out there."

"Aye aye, cap'n." You saluted him playfully, walking out of the room and waving to everyone. You would see them when you got back, anyways.

What you didn't hear was Steve asking Sam for Redwing to follow you, at a distance. Just in case.

You threw on a jacket and a scarf, opening the door once Peter had done the same. It was cold. It was that kind of biting, painful cold that really settled into your bones.

The walk was mostly silent at first, the street sounds filling the gap. You gasped quietly as Peter snaked his hand into yours as you wandered. The warmth was very nice, but the implication made your heart do double time.

"Where do you want to go?" He broke the silence.

Truthfully, you had no idea. You had absolutely no direction in your brain as your thoughts were smothered by the fact that you were together, holding hands.

"I don't mind, really." You responded.

"I know a place... but it requires climbing, is that okay?" He asked, once again his eyes wandering to where your wound was healing, under your clothes.

"Yeah, that's fine. Where is it?"

He walked with you for a little while longer. Once you reached a taller building, he motioned for you to hop onto his back, as you used to do.

"Be careful," You whispered in his ear. Your hot breath so close to him made his hair stand on end, goosebumps sticking up all over his skin.

He swallowed. "I've got you, don't worry."

And so, he climbed. It was quick, he was stronger now than you remembered. You felt his back muscles tense and relax under you as he flexed out his arms to pull you both up.

He set you down carefully once you got to the top, showing you the view. You wondered how he had found these places, how he always had the most extraordinary little pockets of New York that he reserved, just for you.

"It's gorgeous." You sighed, contentedly.

You could feel his eyes on you. You could tell exactly what he was thinking, without even seeing his face. His hand wrapped itself in yours, as you pulled your jacket and scarf closer around you.

"Are you cold?"

Before you could even respond, his jacket was wrapped around your shoulders. You smiled at his chivalry, drawing the jacket around you and appreciating the extra protection against the elements.

"(y/n), can we talk?" You felt his eyes on you again. You nodded at him, unable to find words as your blood pumped ferociously around your body. "I want to try again..."

Your eyes widened at his confession.

"I mean it," He continued. "I've never... I've never stopped loving you. I've spent years trying to move on, but I haven't. There's no one like you in the world. No one."

His hand lefts yours, and found your cheek. His eyes wandered over every freckle, every scar, every bruise he could see. "You are so beautiful."

You were at a loss for what to say. You had craved these words since the moment you left Clint's farm that day. You could barely hear anything anymore, as the moment melted away to just you, and him.

And so, you did what you had wanted to do for so long.

You kissed him.

As your lips connected, it took a second for him to even register what was happening. But once he did, the passion, the emotion you felt in that moment was like nothing you had ever experienced. His hands tangled in your hair, desperately drawing you towards him.

This wasn't like to loving kisses you used to pepper over each other's lips. This was need, it was animalistic. It was war and anger and heat. It was love.

When you both finally pulled away, your breath was ragged. You placed your forehead on his, your hot breath tickling each other's faces.

"I've never stopped thinking of you, Peter." You admitted. "Not for a second. I've always regretted walking away from you, hurting you like that." You screwed your eyes shut, the pain of the memories a little too much to bear.

He raised your face until your eyes met his. "It wasn't your fault. I left you behind in the snap, and you spent five years mourning me. I never blamed you for what came after, (y/n). Never."

His words soothed the pain in your chest. You had always wondered.

"I want to start fresh with you. I want to go on dates and get to know you, as you are now. I want to be normal kids..." He stroked your cheek with his thumb.

"I want that too, Pete."

He pressed another kiss to your lips, this one short and sweet. "Good," He looked into your eyes, a mischievous glint in them. "Then we should probably get you home, we've got an early start tomorrow."

You raised your eyebrow in questioning.

"I'm taking you for breakfast, sunshine."

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