The rain dances on the window while the thunder drones in the sky. White sparks flare in the clouds for a millisecond before the gloom takes over once more.

Jazz music softens the atmosphere as people talk in low murmurs. Click click clack goes the buttons on a nearby laptop, scritch scritch goes the pen scribbling on paper. Ching! The register sings as it sputters and spits out a crispt receipt.

Breathing in the subtle scent of apple and cinnamon of the cafe, you tentatively sip your hot beverage, eyes lazily roaming the surroundings of watercolor paintings and the few slow motion pictures considered people.

Two women sit in the middle of the cafe, one with blazing red hair and the other with long carmel hair, all soft smiles and eyes gleaming. To the left is a man adorning a dark navy long sleeved sweater, fingers dancing on the keys of his laptop. His black raincoat drapes over the seat across, taking presence as his date. The cashier at the register wears a soft yellow wool sweater that contrasts against the long dark oak bar that lays before her.

The bell above the entryway tinkles, signaling that someone has entered the cozy warm cafe. Eyes dragging to the door, in walks in a teen dripping from the rain.

Chocolate curles plastered from the water, the teen shakes his head. Rain water sprays his surroundings, landing on the nearby tables and chairs.

Eyes following behind, the teen walks to the bar and orders, voice soft and trembling from the cold that brews outside.

Waiting for his hot beverage, he sits at small booth to the left, feet tucked together and hands rubbing together to create heat.

Winsome, the word appears in mind as you take in his apperance. Standing, you move up to the bar to place a few dollar bills into the tip jar. Turning back, you get a whiff of subtle flowers and rain as the teen approaches.

Eyes meeting for a brief moment, you find yourself blooming with warmth. Eyes down, you softly excuse yourself as you maneuver around the teen to exit the cafe, where you find yourself close to home in the brewing storm.

• ° • ° •

"Excuse me, miss? Miss, you gotta wake up."

Eyes fluttering, you're met with large white eyes. Taking in the person's apperance, you're met with the superhero in Queens.

"Miss, you're bleeding."

Oh.

He helps you sit against the brick wall, hands hovering just above your yellow raincoat that's now red and exposed to the falling rain. A lightning bolt strikes, and a flash of silver glimmers in the inside of your coat.

"Miss, you're still..."

Placing your hand onto his, you send him an assuring smile. "I'll be all right."

"...bleeding." He exhales, his shoulders relaxing as he gazes back at you. "May I ask what happened?"

You close your eyes, a small strained smile appearing on your lips. "Just a few people wanting to establish their dominance is all."

His wide eyes narrow at little at that. "On a rooftop?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

You were half telling the truth, they were a few people that you fought. The other half he wouldn't believe, like what kind of beings they were. Spider-Man has a pure soul, and you didn't want it to dim with the reality that you lived in.

Closing your coat, you sit up with a grimance at the twinge in your side, already beginning it's process to heal.

"May I at least take you home?"

"Please."

Not because you were incapable of doing it so yourself, but because you desperately wanted to be in the air again.

Helping you up with care and gentleness, he holds your arm as he walks you through the rain to the edge of the rooftop. He holds you firm against his side. With your legs around his waist, he shoots out a web and leaps off.

You relish the feeling of the rain and wind blowing against your skin, soaking up the experience to lock in a bottle to cherish for eternity.

Guiding him to the rooftop of your apartment building, you silently mourn the feeling of being in the air as your hands drag across his shoulders to rest at your sides. "Take care, Spider-Man."

"I should be saying that to you." He nods toward your already healed torso that's shielded away from his eyes. "You sure you're gonna be okay? That was a bit of blood."

You nod, blinking against the falling raindrops. "I'll be fine. Thank you."

Spider-Man nods, but hesitates at the edge of the rooftop, seeming wanting to stay. He does, he doesn't want to leave. Looking back, you give him a soft smile.

And that's all the assurance he needs as he forces himself to leap off the building.

• ° • ° •

"Peter."

Peter looks up from his backpack and freezes when he sees you standing beside the teacher.

"Peter?"

Peter directs his attention from you to the teacher. "Yeah?"

"I was wondering if you could catch up [Name] on what we've been working on for the last two weeks." It's more of a I'm-telling-you-to-do-this than anything else. She raises her eyebrow, and he really can't say no.

Not that he would want to anyway.

"Sure."

Peter shuffles a little in his seat as you settle down next to him. The teacher goes back to the front of the class as the bell rings.

"I'm Peter." Peter sticks out his hand on instinct when you turn to face him. And suddenly he wants to smack his forehead because you already know his name from the teacher. Just as he's about to drop his hand, you take it in yours, giving a small shake.

"Hello, Peter. I'm [Name]." Your lips twitch into a tiny smile. "But you already know that."

A small laugh trembles from Peter. "Yeah, and you know mine already, too."

Holding hands longer than what's socially acceptable, you both slowly draw your hands back.

Warmth travels up Peter's hand, so he turns back to face the front of the class and quietly clears his throat. Looking down at his notebook, he shuffles through his notes. "Okay, so what we've been learning is..."

• ° • ° •

"Is that her?"

"That's her."

"She's pretty."

"We share chemistry together."

Peter and Ned sit at the cafeteria table, chins on their respective hands.

"It was weird," Peter told Ned at his locker in the morning, a few minutes before the bell would ring for first period. "I saw her at the cafe, and an hour later she was at some random rooftop, bleeding from her abdomen." His brows pull together as he reorganizes his locker for the third time. "She seemed fine, from the moment she woke up to the moment I left her."

Ned waits patiently, knowing that Peter needs to gather his scattered thoughts.

"She didn't seem startled from her wound, like at all."

Ned scans the teenagers around him, taking note that no one is paying attention to them as usual. Better to be safe than sorry, so he lowers his voice and asks, "You think she's superhuman?"

"No." Peter shakes his head. "She was..."

Scanning Peter's features, Ned dawns on a knowing look. "You like her."

Peter stares at worn textbooks without acknowledging them. "I couldn't leave her, Ned. She assured me she was okay, but it physically was hard for me to jump off the roof." Peter turns to look at Ned, perhaps for help, perhaps for reassurance.

Peter found himself feeling content with the girl in his arms, finding himself drawn to her in ways that were unexplainable. He's never felt like this before, and as he and Ned look at one another in thought, they both wonder the same thing.

Could soulmates possibly exist?

"Hey nerds." MJ raps her knuckles against the cafeteria table, ripping their attention away from you to her. "Stare at her any longer, and she'll report a restraining order against the both of you."

"We weren't doing anything," Ned says.

"Staring at her creepily is." MJ rolls her eyes at them. "I get she's pretty, but please if I have to see you guys being weird again, I'll personally pluck your eyes out."

Ned looks down at his bag of chips, not wanting to be on MJ's bad side. After all, he appreciates the eyes that he has.

Peter yet again finds himself reluctantly moving his eyes away from you to look down at his milk carton.

• ° • ° •

"You know, it's dangerous to be out this late at night. Especially during a storm."

Wiping the bit of blood off your cheek, you turn away from the dumpster to face Spider-Man who is hanging upside down on a web.

"I personally love the storms."

Thunder rumbles and lightning crackles in the sky, lighting up the allyway for a few milliseconds before the only source of light is from a dim yellow fluorescent lightbulb that's bolted above a door that connects to a chinese restaurant.

"You can get sick."

"I hardly ever get sick."

Peter believes you. "Why are you in an ally, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Just had to take care of buisness is all."

A silent beat, and then: "Please tell me you aren't a drug dealer."

Your lips merely twich. "No."

Killing evil beings on the other hand wasn't much better.

His eyes narrow, and your stone expression gives nothing away, but your eyes gleam with amusement. "You're funny."

"So I've been told."

That's... a lie. But he couldn't care less. "You're quite aways from home."

Something flashes across your face, quick like a lightning strike. "You remember where I live?"

"I'm not a creep, I swear."

You smile in amusement. "I know, just merely startled was all."

Water gushes into the drain just off to the left beside you, dripping and sloshing away into the sewers. The yellow lightbulb flickers, glowing bright and then dim. The light reflects off your yellow raincoat, seeming to make it glow, as well as your wet hair. He inwardly notes that you look like a drowned kitten with a golden halo.

"You know, you should wear your hood when you're out in the rain."

Again you look startled, merely looking over your shoulder to your limp hood. "Oh."

How odd, he thinks. You seem startled at the smallest things. He hesitantly raises his arms, and watching carefully at your facial expressions, he reaches to lift your limp hood over your head.

Water cascades down your hood, and as you blink at him, all he can think about is how cute you look.

He's the one who gets startled when you grab the edges of his mask, and he quickly grasps your wrists firmly, but not unkindly. He searches your face, but all you do is wait, waiting for him to make the next move.

Croaking, he says, "I can't." He can't reveal his identity, no matter how much he wants to.

You merely shake your head. "I won't reveal much."

Adam's apple bobbing, he gently releases your hands. You wait a few more moments, and with his permission, you slowly roll down his mask until it reaches his nose.

"I'm a stranger," he whsipers, his senses dialed to an eleven. "We can't." Even if he really wants to.

A fond expression overtakes your features. "You have a bright soul, Spider-Man."

Slowly and yet suddenly, your lips are upon his, pressing softly.

His heart races, and yet it calms within the spans of seconds. It's awkward from his angle, but nonetheless perfect.

You smooch once, twice, and then you slowly pull away to roll up his mask. "Take me home?"

Gathering his senses, Peter flips to land on his feet. Pressing you against his side, you wrap your legs around his waist and inhale just as he shoots a web and lifts up against the wind and rain.

He smells of rain and flowers.

• ° • ° •

Peter sits in the red vinyl booth, sipping at his hot coffee, his muffin wrapper empty and crinkled, apple muffin long gone now.

Ching! Goes the register as it spits out a reciept for the cashier to collect. Scritch scritch goes the pencil on paper as the women writes in her journal. Click click clack goes the keyboard as the college student's fingers bounces off the keys.

I guess I'm falling in the same way,

'Cause I know after dark, I will want you here

I'm just like you boy,

We have so much to lose or the best to come

Peter enjoys the women's voice singing softly through the speakers. He doesn't know the artists, but he finds himself appreciating the music.

And by the way, it's a way that I haven't felt before,

I have to say, that I feel like I've never been so sure

Every few minutes, Peter glances up at his phone to look at the girl that kissed him in the allyway, the girl that he shares the same class with. And whenever their eyes meet, Peter shares a small smile before looking down at his screen, where he just randomly googled something, so it seemed as if he was looking at different articles.

Peter knows that she can't possibly know it was him as Spider-Man, but as she smiles at him with a twinkle in her eye, part of him thinks that somehow she knows it was him.

She couldn't possibly know, but he sort of wishes that she did.

He finds himself trying to gather the courage to get up and head over there. Yes, they've talked before, but only to catch up on chemistry. He wants to really talk to her, to get to know her.

As Spider-Man, he has the courage to do anything. As Peter Parker, well, that's another story.

Just as he gathers enough courage to move, she's already up and moving. She throws away her trash before dropping a few dollars in the tip jar, and with a few steps, she's out the door.

Don't let her go! A voice (that sounds suspiciously like Tony's) rings in his head. Peter stands abruptly, hip hitting the edge of the table as he rushes to throw away his muffin wrapper and disposable coffee cup. He sticks two dollars in the jar before heading for the door.

The bell tingles just as thunder rumbles in the sky. The rain pelts against his head, and he looks from the left to right to find her yellow raincoat.

She's down the block to his right, standing undernearth the bus stop that offers little shelter from the bellowing wind and rain.

He stuffs his hand in his rain jacket as he makes his way over to her, trying to seem non-threatening, which really takes no effort at all.

He stands underneath the bus stop, now only two feet away from her. He goes to speak, but the words get lodged in his throat, because he doesn't know what to say.

Hi, you know me as Peter Parker, but I'm also Spider-Man. You know, we kissed about a few days ago. I was thinking we could be friends?

Like that would go well.

He glances at her for a moment, and he becomes startled when she's already looking back at him.

"Hello, Peter."

An embarrassing noise escapes him, but all she does is lean against the glass and smiles at him. "Hi [Name]."

It falls quiet between them, the only sound that fills the silence is the drumming rain that beats above their heads against the glass.

"What are you doing out during a storm?" she asks. "Shouldn't you be heading home?"

"I'm waiting for the bus." He motions to the bus stop uselessly.

Her eyes gleam as she smiles. "The bus isn't coming until two hours from now."

His cheeks warm as he looks down where the sidewalk meets the street. "Oh." Trying to shake off his nerves, he looks back up at her. "What are you doing here?"

"Enjoying the storm," she says, dawning on a knowing look. "I personally love the storms."

His heart thumps, and suddenly the kiss that they shared flashes in his mind. She couldn't know, could she?

She smiles knowingly, and it ramps up the beating of his heart. He has to tell her the truth.

"Um, I... I-" He struggles, his thoughts scattering like paper in the wind.

He tries collecting his thoughts and his bouncing nerves, but his heart is beating too fast and his hands feel too hot inside his pockets. He pulls them out and exhales shakily, why is this happening now? The last time he was like this-

"Peter." She holds his bicep, giving a firm squeeze. Suddenly everything quiets; his nerves, his breathing, and his heart. He feels calm, as if someone sedated him.

She looks concern, but not overly so. And where her hand lays on his left bicep feels like a brand searing hot against his jacket. It tingles with warmth, and as she let's go it vanishes.

"How did you-" His words die on his tongue as she steps closer to him, eyes searching his.

"In due time, Peter," she whispers.

And in close promixity, Peter has the urge to press his lips to hers. But seeming to read his mind, she leans in and does so.

Thunder rolls and lightning crackles above them, the rain dances and bounces with glee as they hit the glass above.

Lips smooching, he tastes the mint gum that she had been chewing earlier.

And to you, he tastes of warm coffee and apple cinnamon.

Pulling away, Peter is breathless.

"Your soul is bright, Peter." And Peter knows that you know who he is. That you've known the whole time, and he honestly doesn't mind. "Come, Peter." Your hand slides down to tug at the edge of his sleeve. "There's much to talk about."

Pulling away, you walk out from underneath the bus stop and into the rain. After a considerate moment, you lift your hood to shield your head from the rain.

Peter smiles as he follows, pulling up his hood as well.

You send him a wink before facing forward to jump in a puddle.

Peter smiles as he follows, and together you hop, splash, and jump into puddles all the while sharing soft smiles and laughter.

Lightning crackles in the sky, lighting the earth with bright light. There are your shadows; Peter's hopping one with his hood falling off, and your's splashing in a puddle, two large appendages attached to your back.

The light vanishes, and the only sound left is both of your laughter concealed by the rain and thunder.