Spider-Man has been robbed.

The irony isn't lost on Peter. In fact, he laughs a little, staring down at his mattress with one hand threaded through his hair and the other tap-tapping at his hip. After all, what kind of ballsy crook had the guts to break into Spider-Man's apartment and steal, arguably, one of his most beloved possessions.

To be fair, they hadn't stolen the entire bed. Not the frame or the mattress, at least. Just the blankets, pillows, and sheets, so 85% of what made it likable. Patrol hadn't taken particularly long today. With temperatures dropping the way they were, no crook worth their two cents would be caught dead breaking into a store so late at night. Stupidly, Peter assumed the same for bed thieves.

Broken into apartments weren't uncommon, but this was the second time in Peter's life that its happened to him. (He didn't like to think about the first time, as he technically hadn't been there and the night Uncle Ben was killed put a distant ache in his chest.)

It was dark when he'd stumbled back into his apartment at 2 AM. Even though the night had been dull - aside from a small warehouse fire - his body was achy from the cold and his toes freezing. He was tired, so he hadn't bothered turning the lights on, and used his spider-sense as his personal brand of echo-location to find the bedroom. Like a man returning to the arms of his lover, he expected to be embraced by the warm blankets and fluffed pillows, only to fall face-first onto a barren mattress.

It took a couple moments of confused patting before he figured out what was wrong here. A quick switch of the light revealed the true horror.

Now, Peter stood at the end of the bed, scratching his forehead and wondering why bad things happened to good people. Had he pissed off an old ancient god by trespassing on a sacred parking lot, and it was now seeking revenge? Did the universe simply enjoy taking the things he loved? They'd taken his weighted blanket too. That had been a gift.

"Stupid bed thieves...taking my stuff...those blankets were cotton...my pillows, gosh the pillows..." he bemoaned under his breath as he tracked down the boot he'd hazardously kicked off after climbing through the window. Inside it, he fished out his phone and debated on whether or not he should call the cops as he checked the door. The lock had been shimmied open, because like an idiot, he hadn't checked the other two locks before he went patrolling.

"Wade's never going to let me hear the end of this," Peter sighed, swinging the door chain side to side before sliding it into place, and doing the same to the other two Wade insisted on installing.

"It's about safety," Wade had said, taking the heavy duty padlock and deadbolt out of the plastic shopping bag and holding them up like he expected Peter to start applauding.

"I'm Spider-Man and you're Deadpool," Peter had reminded him, unimpressed. "This is no Stark Tower, but how dangerous do you expect it to be."

"Not for us, Petey," Wade placed a ginger hand on the gun he always kept holstered on his person, "It's for my babies. What if some looney-bin waltzed in here and kidnapped them? Straight outta the closet like a couple of repressed gay children. If we're going to live together, we've gotta have failsafes. Gotta have a plan of action."

Plan of action they had, fail it did. Actually, on that thought, Peter strode back to the room to check on said closet as he brought up Wade's number and put the phone to his ear. He checked Wade's weapon stash - surprisingly untouched - and set to examining the rest of the bedroom by the time the ringing stopped and he was left to voicemail.

As expected.

"Hey Wade. So, you're not going to believe what just happened. We've been robbed. I know, I know, very exciting. I - uh, okay I swear if you tease me about this I'm buying nothing but taco's from the resturant you hate, for the next month. I forgot to lock the door before I left, so...this one might be on me. Umm, I don't think anything but the blankets and pillows were stolen," Peter checked his laptop and Wade's gaming device to make sure, "Yeah, they didn't even take your new system. Leave it to New York to rob you of your bed instead of the actually valuable stuff. Probably not going to call the police though. Everything's a mess, and I just got home from patrol, and I don't want to explain all the guns in my closet. Maybe we can go bed-shopping when you get back," he paused in the doorway of the bedroom, leaning against the frame and running a tired hand through his hair.

"Um, yeah, that's all really. Helped stop a fire today. It was small, but I'm going to smell like smoke the rest of the week. Hope you're having better luck at your end of the world. Call me when you can. I know how funny you'll find it that Spider-Man was robbed in his own home. I...I miss you. The TV isn't as good of a conversationalist as I remember. I...yeah, so...I love you. Bye."

He ended the message and closed his eyes. Another added to the pile of voicemails he was leaving in his wake. Did he sound as clingy as he felt? Gosh, it was so pathetic. Wade takes one job on the other side of the world, and Peter can't stop calling for more than 5 minutes. And they used to think Wade was the clingy one. If Peter sat at his window and pretended he could see the sunset past the buildings, he could be mistaken for some poor sap waiting for their lover to return from the war.

Peter sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Wade was so far underground, he wouldn't even get these messages until he was topside again. Which was probably for the best. Peter didn't want to distract him, because he knew Wade would answer the phone every time he called.

Still, this job was taking longer than either of them expected. It was supposed to be a month, maybe two, tops. But it's been almost three, and Peter would be worried if he didn't keep nagging SHIELD and receiving exasperated messages claiming that everything is fine and that the mission is delicate, and if you keep calling, Spider-Man, we're going to do something super shady and bad because we're a super organization and making people disappear is easy for us.

What was worse, only a handful of people knew about his relationship with Wade, so Peter couldn't even bemoan to anyone within earshot. Sometimes, he hated that they'd agreed to keep their relationship on the down low from the media, and most people for that matter. (If Peter had to hear one more well-meaning 'friend' express their opinion on his dating life, he was going to backflip off the Brooklyn Bridge). Sometime's a guy just needs to bitch and moan about missing his boyfriend.

Groaning, Peter did, as he turned back into the room and actually put forth the effort of stripping out of his Spider-Man suit. He didn't bother with pajamas, just grabbed the extra blanket from the hallway closet, switched off the light, and burritoed himself on the mattress. It wasn't the same high-quality blankets they had - mostly for Wade because of his sensitive skin - but Peter felt like a pampered ninny for missing their silky softness.

It was going to be a bitch replacing that weighted blanket.

But these things happened. It's New York. It'd be strange if he wasn't robbed at least once in his life. Chalk it up as a new experience and check it off the list.

"Later," Peter mumbled to himself, squirming to find the most comfortable spot and drifting.

He was almost asleep when his spider-sense hummed and he lifted his head, squinting at the darkness. It wasn't an alarming tingle, or even a moderately high one. Just a tickle over his skull that he could've easily ignored.

But there was nothing there, and as quickly as it had come, it was gone again. Maybe it was bedbugs. He'd always been careful not to let those buggers back into his life, not since the last infested apartment he had. He'd have to check the mattress in the morning to make sure it was clean.

He snorted as he wiggled back into the blanket. Hopefully the stolen blankets had bedbugs. That robber was going to be in for one hell of a surprise.

With that happy thought, Peter was fast asleep in minutes.

{LINE BREAK}

Mary Jane has a riot when she finds out. Where Peter found it ironically funny, MJ declared it the single greatest joke the universe could've played on him. What was funnier than a superhero getting robbed? A vigilante who spent his free time stopping robbers and thugs. It went against the natural order of things. Like a cat chasing a dog up a tree.

Peter blankly sipped at his drink as she bent over the table wheezing, making their silverware jump as she slapped the palm of her hand against the top.

"Oh, that it is too good," she chortled, running a hand over the top of her hair to get the red curls out of her face, "And they stole your bed?"

"Everything but the bedframe and mattress," Peter said, which invoked another round of laughter that he waited out by starting on the sandwich left by the waiter. When she finally composed herself again, smoothing down her shirt and sipping at her lemonade to keep her amusement tamed, Peter continued, "Decided not to call the cops. Was still in costume and I didn't want to deal with hiding all my gear. Wade still needs to find a better place to store his 'toys' too, so that would've been hell to explain."

"So, you're just letting them get away with your stuff?" MJ clarified, digging into her own food.

"Blankets can be replaced," Peter shrugged, "At least it wasn't anything important. I've just got to remember to lock the door before I leave."

"Heroism has made you compliant," MJ sagely nodded, and Peter nudged her leg with his shoe. But he couldn't exactly disagree. He's been Spider-Man for a while now - almost 10 years. Petty crime and home robberies didn't seem like something that could happen to him. He's busted enough of them to feel like it was the kind of thing he could prevent. What a good job he was doing in thatdepartment.

It was a blow to his superhero pride, but better now when it was just a couple of blankets than, say, the TV, or his laptop, or dare he say his Spider-Man gear. Lesson learned, universe. Superhero or not, he was not above petty crime happening at his own doorstep.

"Mm, so did you tell Wade?" she asked around a large bite of salad.

"Left him a voicemail."

"Still not returning your calls then? It's been a while."

Peter shrugged, pretending he hadn't thought about it, "We both knew this mission was going to take a while, so I really shouldn't be surprised."

MJ's smile was sharp as a sharks and equally accusing as she pointed her fork at him, "You miiisss him."

"Real mature."

"You liiiiike him."

Peter sniffed and turned up his nose, "I don't know what you're talking about and you'll never be able to prove it in court."

She laughed and shook her head, "Seriously though, Peter. I can tell how much you miss him. Your eyebrows scrunch up really sad and you make a puppy-dog face whenever you bring up the job."

His face screwed up and he set down his sandwich, "I do not make a puppy-dog face."

"The cutest puppy-dog face. Big round eyes, sad little lips, if you quiver them a little and point them toward the guy behind the counter, I'm sure you could get a free donut."

Peter scoffed and shoved his sandwich into his mouth to avoid the frankly belittling conversation, but MJ wasn't one to give up to easily. Her expression softened and she dropped a hand on top of his, squeezing gently.

"Hey, it's alright. Honestly, I think it's really great that you found someone like Wade. Aunt May and I were starting to get a little worried there."

Peter shot her an alarmed look, "Worried about what? My single status?"

"No, just...how lonely you were. Before Wade, you were distancing yourself and you hardly ever came around anymore, and you weren't returning calls, and you just," she took a small breath, "I just...think it's great that you found someone like Wade. I'm glad you're not so alone anymore. Especially," she dropped her voice, "when you're being your stickier self."

"Please never refer to it as my 'stickier' self ever again."

Her grin was wry, "Nope, patented by Wade and used exclusively among us all. Deal with it."

Peter rolled his eyes, but turned his hands up so he could squeeze her back, "Thanks...I think. I'll admit I do kind of miss having him around. A lot. It's a lot quieter with him gone. I'm not as funny as I used to be without someone to bounce quips off of."

"Oh sweetie," MJ gave him a sad smile, "You were never funny to begin with."

"Ouch. Anymore kicks while I'm down? Maybe a blow to my pride? A few knocks at my self-esteem. The floor is yours."

"Nah, that's just another Monday for you. Besides, if we don't hurry and eat I'm going to be late and you're going to have to pay for both our meals when I'm forced to run out of here early."

"MJ I can pay for our meals, I'm not -" he patted his pockets, and slowly stopped. He patted them again more frantically, and dug into his backpack muttering small curses under his breath. "I swear I put my wallet in here. I swear."

MJ looked anything but surprised. Once upon a time she may have even been annoyed, but right now she looked only amused. "Don't worry about it. There's always a high chance you'll forget your wallet, so I carry extra cash on me. Just in case. Lunch is on me."

"I swear I'll pay you back."

"Invite me over for dinner once Wade is back and we'll call it even. That guy makes the best garlic bread I've ever tasted. Besides, that way we can both tease you about leaving the door unlocked, and I can get my monthly dose of the Parker soap opera."

"Hey, you like the soap opera."

"Only when I'm not dangling from bridges or hitting villains over the head with a bat."

Peter puffed out his cheeks with an expression that could only be described as conceding agreement, "Fair enough. I'll plan something with him as soon as he gets back."

She winked and dug into her salad. As they ate, Peter fiddled with his napkin, lips pursing,. His eyes were glued to the table and he nudged at his fork meekly as he asked, "I didn't...I didn't really distance myself, did I? I mean, I probably did, but I didn't mean to. I mean, I might've meant to in the beginning, but you guys know that I wouldn't abandon you right?"

MJ looked him over carefully, "Yeah, we know," she said, "You just have an annoying habit of getting caught up in your stickier side," Peter's nose wrinkled, "and you do flake a lot. You also tend to get really caught up in your own head and it's a pain in the ass to get you back out."

"Okay, okay, I get it. Thank you."

"But we know you don't mean any harm by it, Peter. We just wish you would come around more often. Aunt May misses you."

"I'm visiting her tomorrow."

"Good, do that more often."

"I will. I'll try. I promise."

MJ nodded her approval.

The rest of their lunch was filled with work talk and meaningless gossip, until the hour was up and they gave their farewells. They walked down the street together and Peter waited with MJ for her cab, before making his way to the subway to catch a train back to the Daily Bugle. He considered web-swinging there, but being the crisp beginnings of December, the temperature was on a spiraling descent and the winds were getting particularly nippy. Not unlike a little dog biting at your heels.

He'd subject himself to the icy winds tonight during patrol, but for now he huddled onto one of the subway seats, squished between a man and his kid and a middle-aged woman with a briefcase. The warmth made up for the lack of personal space.

Only, 10 minutes went by when his spider-sense tingled and he sat up straighter. Across from him, there was a teenager slumped in their seat, a pair of headphones perched over her head as she mindlessly bopped her foot to whatever tune she was listening to. She glanced over at him and smiled. His spider-sense tingled again. Then she was back to looking down at her phone.

Peter leaned back in his seat, glancing around the car as if anyone else might've picked up strange vibes from their non-existent danger senses. He didn't think they did. There was nothing incriminating about this girl. Nothing that suggested she was dangerous. She didn't even have a backpack, so he could cross bomber off the list. For the rest of the ride, she didn't look at him, and when the train pulled up to the next station, she filed out with the next group of people and was gone before Peter could figure out what set him off.

But, just as the doors closed, through the grimy window, she looked back at him and smiled. Then the train was moving and she was gone.

Behold! My NaNoWriMo project. I'll be spending this month updating this story every few days. It's something that's been cooking up in my brain for a while now and I'm excited to finally share it! I'm late in posting it on Wattpad so be prepared for a spam of chapters. 

Hope you enjoy!