Turn. Aim. Shoot.

You stashed your sniper, exchanging it for a short range pistol. Deciding it would be safer to find shelter then to stay out in the open, you began to run back to the house, keeping your pistol out and ready to fire at any assailants that might try to surprise you along the way. Then the door bell rang.

Finally.

You shot up from the couch, pausing the game, and setting down the controller. The harsh pang in your stomach eagerly pushing you towards the front door where your Kung Pao chicken would be waiting for you. You opened the door without looking, grabbing your purse from the stand next to the doorway.

"Just one moment." You said, one-handedly fishing for some cash to tip the delivery man, smiling when you found a five dollar bill hiding at the bottom. Then you looked up.

"Oh-" Your smile faded in confusion and disappointment. "You're not my Chinese food."

"Uh no, sorry."

Peter was standing in the door way looking a little awkward. You stood there for a moment, staring at him as he stared back, fighting the urge to close the door and pretend like this had never happened. What the hell was he doing here? Last you checked it had been nearly thirty days since he had last spoken to you. Thirty days since he had stomped all over your friendship and forced you out of his life. He had said it himself. He was done with you, he was finished. So what the hell was he playing at trying to come back now?

It was then that you remembered you no longer lived alone. Peter probably wasn't here to talk to you, he was here to see the other resident of this apartment. Maybe for something work related?

"Steve's not home right now but I can tell him you dropped by."

Your fingers were gripping tightly to the edge of the door, getting ready to close it, needing to close it. The wounds were still too fresh, to unhealed for you to risk keeping this door open any longer.

"I'm not here for Steve." Peter replied, peering past your shoulder to look down the hallway of your apartment. "Can I come in?"

You moved away from the entry way giving him space to walk through, not because you really wanted to. Frankly you just wanted him gone, but you figured somebody had to be the adult in this situation. He moved past you starting to walk down the hallway towards the living room. You shut the door behind him, taking a steadying and resigned breath and then following him down the hall.

Peter was looking around the apartment, taking everything in. He looked almost the same as he had the last time you had seen him. He had the same mess of curls, the same lopsided grin. The only difference was his eyes. The last you had seen them they were full of pure contempt, nothing but hostility towards you and anything having to do with you. Now the cold and frozen chocolate flecks had melted into a warmer and more inviting gaze, but you were hesitant to believe that was genuine. You waited quietly for him to say something.

"The place looks nice." He noted, then smiling at the paused screen on the television. "Level fifteen? I didn't think you'd made it that far yet, that must have taken you forever."

Apparently being the adult of the group was harder than you had thought it would be, for more reasons than one. It didn't seem fair for him to show up out of the blue like this. It felt even less fair for him to stand there and smile while he talked about video games, the activity that had practically solidified your supposed friendship, when that very friendship no longer existed. You wished you had known that the foundation you built with him had been made of quicksand. This was all too hot and cold and the mixed signals did nothing but raise your levels of annoyance tenfold. You picked up the controller, pressing the home button to shut off the console, and then did the same with the television.

"What are you doing here Peter?"

He rubbed at his eyes for a moment before shoving his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, shuffling his feet. The boy looked exhausted and nervous. You would have felt bad for him but the last words he had spoke to you were playing on loop in the back of your mind, like a broken record.

"(Y/n) I-" His voice cracked and he coughed slightly, clearing his throat before trying again. "I didn't like the way we left things."

You didn't respond, just watched as he fidgeted uncomfortably. An entire living room stood in between you and him, but even that wasn't enough space to contain to the resentment in your eyes, or the negativity that had been breeding in your heart ever since his words had infected it.

"I'm sorry about what I said that day."

You mean you're about telling me you were only pretending to be my friend this whole time or sorry about telling me to send a condolence card to the future godfather of my child?

"It was awful and I know I can't take it back. But I wish I could."

Thirty days. Thirty days you had been secretly hoping for this but every time the thought crossed your mind you had forced yourself to accept the fact that it was never going to happen. It was over and he wasn't coming back. And yet somehow, now it was happening. You had thought you would have felt relieved, pleased that the burden of having lost another best friend was eased from your mind. But you didn't feel any of those things, not at all.

"Honestly, I'm confused." You said, your voice colder than you had been expecting it would be. Your abdomen was still aching uncomfortably and you hugged your sweatshirt closer to your stomach in response to the soreness.

"You said it yourself, no need to pretend that you give shit, right? And here you are. Pretending." You hurled his own words back at him and he winced.

"I don't have anything else to give you Peter. I gave you my friendship and you threw it back in my face. Twice." You glared with such fierceness that you were surprised Peter didn't step back. It was as if all of the bitterness and every ounce of venom he had expelled from his system the day he tore your friendship to shreds with his bare hands had latched itself on to you.

"I already promised I'd never tell anyone that you're Spider-Man. What else could you possibly want from me? What's next, do you need me to sign an NDA or something? Because if that's what it's going to take to get you to leave me the hell alone then I'll sign them right now, just give me the damn papers."

When you were done you had hoped you would feel better, finally getting the chance to say all of the things you had been thinking. You had thought maybe speaking those thoughts into existence would help you to accept the state of things and move on. But it didn't. Instead you felt guilty and unclean. As if somehow you had stooped to his level, tarnishing and dirtying what was once pure, leaving it bruised and blemished. His head bobbed up and down, accepting the words dutifully in the way only someone who believed they truly deserved them would.

"I'm not excusing any of my actions, I'm just asking for a chance to explain." He stared at the floor for a moment, then looked back at you.

He knew from the look on your face you didn't care to hear what he had to say, that it wasn't right for him to get the chance to explain how he was feeling now when he hadn't given you the same right thirty days ago. You couldn't let yourself fall for this again, not when you knew how fragile your friendship had been. His promises were nothing but a silence, easily made and easily broken.

"Just hear me out, and if you still want me to leave after I will."

You nodded once, waiting for whatever words would slay you next. The sooner he dug whatever knife he had lodged in your back deeper, the sooner he would leave you alone to cope with your misery.

"I was such an idiot. I've done a lot of stupid things in my time but saying those things to you definitely tops that list."

That's the understatement of the year.

"When you left the tower I couldn't stop feeling guilty about lying to you. I knew how much you valued honestly and I lied to anyway, thinking I was protecting you somehow. I should have known that you were strong enough to handle the truth."

You nodded again, already having known and accepted this. Even if you weren't happy about the fact he had kept the contract a secret or that had lied to you when you asked if the only reason you were friends was because Tony had asked him to, you had moved past those things. It didn't feel fair to forgive Steve and not give Peter the same courtesy. But that wasn't why you were angry now and it didn't explain why he had said your friendship was only a means to an end, knowing how much it would hurt you, if that wasn't how he truly felt.

"Do you remember the night we talked after Steve asked you to move into the tower?" He asked looking hopeful. "You said that every time someone breaks your trust it shatters your heart, and each time you have to put it back together and pray it stays that way even though some of the pieces are missing or in the wrong place."

You nodded for a third time, slightly surprised and a little touched that he had remembered your words, carrying them with him in his mind or his pocket all of this time. That had been the night you had decided it was okay to be vulnerable with someone else after James had convinced you otherwise. That had been the night you had really connected with him.

"Well that's what it felt like when you left New York. I've had a lot of people leave my life. Each time someone goes it's that much harder to get myself back. My Dad, my Mom, my Uncle Ben..."

The way he stood there so casually, listing the people he had lost in his life like it was completely normal nearly collapsed my resolve against him in one gut-wrenching sentence. This alone made me realize how weak and how feeble the wall I had built between us must have been if he was so easily able to crumble it.

"I just-" He swallowed, his eyes looking distant and watery. "I couldn't stand to loose you too."

You were trying to listen but the pain had returned to your stomach. This time you weren't sure if it was because you were hungry or because of the way Peter's words were swirling dangerously close to your half-mended heart.

"When I found out you were back... I was so mad you had left for so long so I said things I knew would keep away because I thought it would hurt less to watch you leave again." He admitted, self-effacing and guilt-ridden.

"Oh my god."

"(Y/n)?"

"Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god."

You clutched at your abdomen. This time all you felt was pain. Shooting, stabbing, blinding pain. This wasn't hunger or mild cramps. It felt like a million hands were pulling your stomach in a million different directions, harshly yanking one way or the other, taking away your ability to think, to breathe.

"What's going on? Are you alright?" Peter said, taking a few quick steps in your direction, but you put your one arm out to stop him, the other clutching your stomach.

"Something's wrong. Something's wrong with the baby I- I can't" You struggled to get the words out, trying to replinish the air that had seemingly vanished from your lungs.

"(Y/n)?"

What was going on? Was your baby okay? This wasn't supposed to be happening right now, it was too soon. Tomorrow you would be eight months pregnant, but you were supposed to have another month. They had said you had nine months. Nine. Not eight.

Your mind instantly went to the one person you wanted to be by your side. Steve. You needed Steve. He'd know what to do, he'd know how to help. He'd know how to get the waves of panic to stop before they shut your entire body down. Before you collapsed entirely. You were moving towards the coffee table, moving around remotes, and glasses as you searched frantically for your lifeline.

"Shit, where's my phone?"

"(Y/n)." Peter blocked your path on your way to the couch. He was trying to get you to look at him, or maybe to talk him you didn't know. All you could think about was finding your cell, and Peter was repeatedly calling your name. You felt like a fly was buzzing around your head, refusing to give you space to think or focus.

"Get out of my way Peter." You swatted him out of the way as you started searching the couch. There was a flurry of flying blankets and pillows as you threw them across the room trying see if it have fallen into the cracks of the sofa. "Goddammit where is my freaking phone!"

You didn't even recognize the sound of your own voice, it having taken on some supersonic register you hadn't known was possible. Another cramp and another pull on your stomach had you wincing again. You shut your eyes tight, trying to force the feeling away.

"Hey." Peter's voice somehow found its way through the pain induced fog surrounding your mind, his arms landing on your shoulders, spinning you around to face him.

"You're going to be okay, the baby is going to be okay but we need to get you both to the hospital." He stated.

You tried to move away from him, still obsessed with the idea of finding your phone and calling Steve. Your whole life you had tried so desperately hard not to need anyone but in this moment you thought you would do anything for it to be Steve telling you everything was going to be okay. Hell you were so terrified by what you were feeling, you would sell a kidney just to see his face. When you went to step away and continue your search Peter's grip tightened on your shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"I know you don't like me much right now, I know you're scared and you want Steve to be here but he's not here. I'm here. And I'm going to get you both through this."

His eyes were staring into yours. You looked for signs of fear or dismay, any indication that he was experiencing the same emotions at the crippling and debilitating depth you were. But you didn't see them there. With the exception of the smallest hint of concern in his eyes, he looked strangely calm and confident. You guessed this was the super-hero in him, being able to stay focused in situations where stress was high. The sincerity in his voice and his unruffled composure somehow was able to penetrate the cloud of panic that had taken over, helping to calm you down slightly. Suddenly all of your thoughts began to spiral on overdrive in your mind, giving you complete clarity as you put the pieces together.

This was not the time to freak out, there was no time to freak out. You couldn't waste these potentially precious moments flipping out about finding Steve. Steve wasn't here but Peter was. Peter was going to get you through this, and you had to get through this and find out what was going on. You had to make sure your baby was okay. You had to get to the doctor.

Right. Priorities.

"We'll call Steve on the way there, I promise. Just let me help you." Peter said, assuredly.

You nodded in agreement, a quick show of relief flashing on his face before he snapped into action. Meanwhile you were still terrified and you guessed Peter could tell because he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, squeezing them gently. He made sure you had everything you needed to go to the hospital and then guided you out of your own apartment, muttering quiet and comforting words with every step.