#tfw you have to help Batman take care of a baby

[phantobats]

I think this is why Bats got all his Robins in toddler/pre-teen form.

Batman: Gotham Adventures #26

[hellofanimagination]

Hey, Baby I'm Not Your Superhuman (Except That I Am)

Prompt: “i accidentally fell asleep in the bookstore you work in cause i read so much au” More like Peter spends too much time trying to figure out a new formula for web fluid and falls asleep in the bookstore where y/n works

Warnings: Robbery, Mild Violence, Guns

Word Count: 3,250

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

A/N: tfw when a tiny fic turns into 7 pages lol

--

Bookstores are quiet and calm, easy going, no one ever yells or fights or steals, it’s a great place to work. Which is why you’re working at Homecoming Books to put yourself through nursing school, it’s easy and pays a good amount-mainly because you work long hours and you’re the only one who will actually show up on weekends. Of course there are the few oddball customers who make you question if all those things about bookstores are true; like that guy who comes in and hits on you while buying those awkward ‘steamy romance’ novels, or that group of kids who come in and move books around and talk too loudly and then leave their empty starbucks cups when they leave. However their are the best customers too, like that girl who comes in and discusses medicine with you late on Saturdays, or that really cute boy who reads almost three books every time he comes in and sits in the back area with the beanbags and leaves at closing. You don’t know why he spends sunday nights in the back of a bookstore when he could be home but you appreciate the company, even if you’ve never spoken more than three words.

It’s Sunday evening and there are a few people milling about-the family of three looking at picture books, the teenagers in the mystery section, and the seniors book club that meets in the reading area by the romance novels. And of course the cute boy, he’s slouched in a green beanbag with his nose in a book about science, he looks like he’s taking notes. You ring up a costumer and then make your way over to where he sits and he is taking notes, scribbling in a little notepad diagrams and equations, it looks like he’s doodling something about webs and spiders but he flips the page before you can get a good look. You make yourself look busy rearranging the section of expensive science textbooks that were donated by Stark Industries last month. You glance over and catch the cute boy looking at you, his eyes get wide and he shoves his face down into his book, you giggle and smile and see his face heat up.

You want to talk to him, ask his name at least, but your throat feels dry just looking at him so you keep your mouth shut. You steal glances though, of his gentle brown waves and his expressive eyes, how quickly he writes out equations, the way he bites at his lip when he messes up or is thinking hard. You want to ask what he’s working on, he looks about your age he could be going to school for a science field, maybe he’s a nerd with a job with someone like Tony Stark, maybe he’s just a guy who works at a coffee shop but loves math and science. Maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe...you want to know him. But you can’t pretend to have a reason to hang around him forever so you leave reluctantly and return to the front desk to find a tired looking girl with dark hair asking to buy an old classic book you remember reading in school. You ring her up and send her on her way after a little chit chat that she didn’t seem to care about at all.

You catch sight of the boy sometimes as you help other people and restock shelves, he doesn't move and after awhile you get worried about how still he is. The store closes in an hour when you finally get up the nerve to check up on him and your heart flutters when you find him sleeping soundly. He’s curled up still holding his notes, book fallen to the floor beside him, his face is so soft and beautiful as he breathes evenly. You wonder if he’s dreaming and you almost reach out to brush away his hair when you realize just how fucking weird that would be. You can feel your face heating up at the way he shifts and a sleepy mumble falls from his lips, how he curls a little tighter, trying to get comfortable on the beanbag. You should wake him, people aren’t allowed to sleep in the store after the age of 6, it’s actually part of your training to wake people up quietly, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. You smile softly and turn around, leaving him to catch up on his sleep.

People leave slowly as the time ticks to closing until it’s just you ringing up a mom and her 12 year old who’s bouncing up and down and babbling about the comic books she picked out. They’re good ones, Batman and Wonder Woman ones that you remember sharing with your siblings after finding them in your dad’s old stuff.

“Who’s your favorite superhero?” You ask the child and she grins, toothy and wide.

“Wonder Woman!” She gets a little loud but you don’t mind, letting her babble enthusiastically all about Wonder Woman and the Amazonians like she knows everything there is to know, you think maybe she does. When they leave you start restocking books and end up back where the cute boy is still sleeping. You had forgotten that you didn’t wake him, should you wake him now? You have to close and you can’t just lock him in here, he probably needs to get home anyway. There are books-science and math and one DC comic-sitting around him and you pick them up carefully, placing them on your cart to put away later. You kneel down beside him and your heart flutters again, eyes tracing the soft lines of his face and the slope of his nose, the sharp angle of his jaw and how his lashes are dark against his skin. You take a shaky breath and reach out, shaking his shoulder lightly and watching him stir, eyes fluttering open slowly.

He smiles the second he sees you and your heart pounds and you smile too. And then his eyes get wide and he bolts up straight, looking around a little frantically and then his dark eyes land back on you and he seems to relax. You reach out and touch his arm without think and his eyes get soft again.

“You fell asleep, I didn’t want to wake you but we’re closing.” You explain and he yawns, your mind supplies ‘cute’ and you try to shove that away but he really is cute.

“I am so sorry!” He blurts out, stumbling over himself to stand up and gather his notepad. You stand and smile and try not to blush when he looks at you.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

“I guess I was more exhausted then I thought,” He mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully.

“You should get home to rest, it’s late.” You watch him pack up his bag and you follow him to the door. “Hey, uh, what’s your name?” Your stomach twists as you ask and he smiles sleepily at you and your heart stops.

“Peter Parker,” You introduce yourself aswell and watch him leave, walking down the sidewalk and pulling up his hood against the darkening sky. It’s dangerous to walk alone in NYC but he’s already long gone before you can get up the nerve to ask to walk with him. You take a breath and close the door, heading over to put away books, count up the money and gather your things just as your roommates pulls up to pick you up. You lock up and slide into the passenger seat.

“How was your day?”

--

It’s Tuesday when Peter comes back and you’re hunched over the counter reading your notes for a test you have tomorrow morning. You don’t notice him come in until he’s leaning on the counter and smiling at you as you lift your head, you blush and grin and Peter smiles wider. You push aside your papers and take note of how he doesn’t look so tired but he has a bruise forming on his jaw and your smile drops. Did someone hurt him? You reach out without thinking and brush gentle fingers over the dark red mark, purple already starting to show in the center. He flinches but doesn’t pull away, let’s you touch.

“Did someone do this to you?” You ask and you see panic flare in his eyes for a brief moment. His answer fumbles out and your heart races.

“I got, uh, mugged, no big deal”

“No big deal!? Peter, are you okay? I have some ice in the back come here,” You grab his hand and drag him into the back room. There’s an old couch and a mini fridge as well as a coffee pot and boxes of books. You sit him on the couch as he tries to tell you it's okay and you don’t have to do this but you grab an ice pack from the freezer and sit beside him, placing it lightly over his bruise.

“Did you go to the police? Are you really okay? Oh my god, i can’t believe this happened.” You ramble, heart pounding and Peter just looks at you with eyes and his chest rising and falling out of sync.

“I just met you, why are you so worried?” He almost sounds in awe you could say.

“I-I um,” you pull away and leave the ice pack on the table before you. You shift away from Peter and it hits you just how weird you’re being. You just met him, you shouldn’t be caring for his wounds and asking him questions, you should have asked if he was okay and moved on. Somehow you know you couldn’t do that and you come up with something to say beside ‘i like you and I’m worried.’

“I’m a nurse, I guess I have that instinct.” You explain it softly and shrug. Peter seems to let everything show on his face and you can see that disappointment and then wonder. Maybe he wants you to care.

“A nurse? That’s really cool.”

“Well, I’m just in school,”

“Still!” Peter gets a spark in his eyes and he shifts closer to you so your legs are touching. “That's really cool, Y/N, being a nurse in training is something to proud of.” You blush and look away, picking at your nails.

“Thank you, Peter.” You sit in silence for a moment, just listening to each other breath. It’s not awkward like silence with a stranger should be and then Peter takes the ice pack from where you left it and holds it to his bruise.

“I have to go find a book, but thank you.” He smiles softly and you just watch him leave wondering if this is what having a crush is like. You haven’t had a crush in so long, head buried in books and school and work, you’d forgotten what a crush feels like. You take a stuttering breath before walking out and hiding from Peter behind the counter, hopelessly trying to study.

He practically runs out of the building an hour later, phone gripped in his hand and you can’t even call out his name before he’s vanished. What’s gotten into him?

--

It’s late the same day, you’re counting out the money and closing the register when the bell above the door rings and you look up to see a frightening pair of men much taller than you and dressed like they’ve been living on the bare minimum of life. Your stomach is in knots as they approach you and one pulls out a gun, you gasp softly and start to hate your manager for never installing a panic button.

“It’s a bookstore! Who robs a bookstore?”

“I don’t know but it's better to be safe than sorry.”

“I’ll think about it, y/n.”

“Give us the money and we’ll be on our way.” One of them speaks and you know you should do what he says, give him the cash and hopefully they’ll leave. But you’re frozen, you can’t move, can’t think. You just stare and they grow impatient, cocking the gun and aiming it at your head, your heart slams against your ribcage, you’re screaming at yourself to hand over the money but you just can’t move and when the guy starts shouting and shoving the gun at you you can’t hear him, blood rushing in your ears.

And then you hear the bell and you all look over to see a boy dressed in blue and red standing there. Spiderman, and the gun switches targets and your heart feels like it’s in your throat. Spiderman shoots a web and snatches the gun, sticking it to the wall with a glob of webs. You can’t breath and you can’t move and Spiderman is jumping around and throwing punches and shooting webs and the criminals try to keep up but they miss and Spiderman dodges and then they’re running out the door and down the street. Spiderman yells a witty one liner after them but you can’t hear it, you can’t think and you’re on the verge of a panic attack. You’re breathing rapidly, heart slamming in your chest, you feel caged inside of yourself and then Spiderman is looking at you and then he’s in front of you holding your hands and speaking.

Slowly slowly you try to breath but instead you sob and shake and struggle to get anything into your lungs, your heart racing like it’s trying to prove something. Maybe that it's a race car. You try to focus on what he’s saying, his hands squeezing yours tight and slowly slowly you latch onto his voice.

“Y/N,” He sounds calm, in control, but worried sick as well. You focus on the words and the tone and your heart starts to slow word by word. “They’re gone it's okay, I’m here don’t worry I won’t leave you. You’re okay, just focus on me, I’ve got you.” You squeeze his hands back and then he’s leading you into the back and sitting you on the couch. He sits with you and you just stare at him, breathing starting to sync with his as he breathes loudly and slowly.

“T-thank you.” You choke out, still shaking but breathing okay.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” He asks and you nod. Spiderman lets go of your hands and cups your face, brushing away your hair and you lean into the touch. “I’m so glad i was nearby, i was worried about you working late. I know you always do but the other stores nearby were robbed recently and, and, I-”

“How…?” Is spiderman a stalker? You quickly come up with a new idea before he can explain and you sigh. “You were surveying the area?” It makes sense, so many robberies in the area of course he would be on the look out and catch details of those who work around here.

“Y-yes, Sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you. I’m just observant.”

“Well, thank you.” he drops his hands and you clear your throat, feeling exhausted. He stands, seeming hesitant for a moment and then he’s all confidence and dorky superhero witty comments.

“Anytime, that’s what your friendly neighborhood spiderman is for!” He gives you a cheesy salute and says goodbye, telling you to get home safe, and then he’s gone and you call the cops about the gun.

There’s something about him...

--

Peter shows up the next day, rushing in and up to you. He must have heard about what had happened last night. He looks worried but then he smiles when he sees you, relaxing and you smile sweetly.

“Morning, Peter.”

“Morning, Y/N. You doing okay?” He asks and you nod and smile and your heart flutters thinking that he worries about you. “Oh, good, I was, uh, worried.” You reach out and squeeze his hand before turning and walking off to get back to work, feeling all the stress of last night melt away.

You work and Peter smiles at you from where he sits, scribbling notes and flipping through pages of a Stark textbook on something you can’t understand. He’s trying to solve something but you don’t ask what, you want to but you’re not sure he wants to tell you. Whatever he’s working on he keeps pretty close to his vest, almost like a secret. He stays late and he seems to watch the door just as often as you do, waiting for someone? Or is he worried too?

No one scary ever comes in, no criminals or gun wielding robbers, nothing, no one. And when it’s time to close and your roommate tells you they can’t give you a lift Peter offers to walk you home. He’s a little jumpy, well more cautious than jumpy and it makes you feel safe and looked out for. Peter is small but you can see the muscles under his shirt, he could take care of you. Listen, you’re not some damsel in distress but yes you’re terrified of the late night streets and you prefer having Peter beside you. Especially after last night.

“It’s only a few blocks,” You explain and he nods. You walk close together, bumping shoulders every once and awhile and you share shy smiles.

“I’m really glad I met you, Peter.” You say out of the blue, blushing under the night sky, and Peter’s eyes find yours as he smiles wide.

“I’m really glad I met you too.” He chuckles nervously and then his hand is linking with yours and you blush and he looks quickly to the floor. You squeeze his hand and he squeezes back and you both walk in silence for a while, just holding hands and letting the universe turn around you like you’re not part of it.

You reach your apartment building and you don’t want to let go of his hand and he doesn’t seem to want to either. You just stand there, holding hands and smiling nervously at each other, stars spinning and darkness getting darker, streets eerie but Peter a beacon of light when he smiles like he can’t help it.

“Thanks for walking me home, Peter.” You tell him, smiling softly.

“Anytime, that’s what I’m here for.” He giggles and you smile and he squeezes your hand before dropping it. You feel cold without his touch.

“How are you getting home? It’s late, It’s not safe.” You tell him and he shrugs.

“I’ll be okay, don’t worry about me.”

“Will you text me when you get home?” You ask and he nods, smiling and blushing when you put your number in his phone. “You better text me, Peter Parker.” You smile and he smiles and nods and pockets his phone. He seems to take a shaky breath and then he steps forward and kisses your cheek, quick and nervous and then he’s stepping back too far. You smile and he’s blushing and pointing behind him.

“I should go, I’ll, uh, see ya.” He speaks nervously and your heart is skipping beats just looking at him.

“Goodnight, Peter.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,”

And he’s gone, walking down the street and you watch him go until the eeriness of the night makes you turn and go inside. He texts you, saying he’s home and you save his number and send him a smiley face. Your heart is so full and light as you fall asleep.