Okay wtf. I think I may have literally lost the ability to accurately name chapters. Oh well.

"Y/n," Peter groaned, throwing his head back. "For the last time, I'll be careful! Jesus Christ. I mean, I do this every night, why don't you trust me?"

You shot your husband of two months a glance. He was sitting, knees spread on one end of the sofa, while you sat on the other, legs curled underneath you, a fuzzy blanket shielding you from any chills.

"I trust you," you mumbled unconvincingly, looking down at your hands.

"No, you really don't! I mean, nothing's changed! And yet you're all on edge about a fucking nightly patrol?" Peter's harsh words made you flinch.

But you knew that something had changed. That six hours ago, you took your third pregnancy test, coming up positive.

The first two had as well, but you were aching to start a family, and didn't want to get your hopes up.

Peter was just as eager as you were, but you didn't know how to tell him. Earlier, you'd thought it was easy. 'Pete, I'm pregnant'. But the minute he walked in the door, smiling at you, you froze. Deciding to delay it till tomorrow, you bit your lip, only pleading with him that he'd take good care on his nightly patrol.

"I'm just- please be careful," you reiterated, as he rolled his eyes.

"Nah, I think I'll go out and try and get killed thanks," he said sarcastically. "What is your deal today? You know, you've been acting weird since I got home."

"Yeah, well you've been acting like a dick since this conversation started."

"A what?" He looked at you with wide eyes.

"A dick Peter, you've been acting like a dick. I don't get it, why can't you just understand that I'm only concerned for your well being?"

"Because I'm sick of you acting like I'm incapable!"

"I don't think you're incapable Pete! I just wish you'd listen to me!"

"You know what Y/n, now I'm sick of listening to you. I have to go now." He huffed, pushing himself off the couch.

"Where are you going?" You screamed after him as he shuffled over to your bedroom.

"Out," he muttered, suddenly in his suit. Walking past you without the faintest goodbye, he climbed out the window to the fire escape.

The familiar whoosh of his webshooters told you that he was gone.

Sighing to yourself, you continued your evening alone.

Peter stumbled into your bedroom well past three in the morning. His mask was lifted up on his face as high as his tired arms could muster.

"Y/n... Y/n," He croaked, collapsing in a heap on the carpet next to the bed.

"Mhmm," you stirred in your sleep, barely fazed by Peter's presence.

"Y/n, help," he repeated louder, reaching up with all his strength to shake your arm.

"Wha- Peter?" You asked groggily, turning on the lamp next to you. "Oh my God!" You screamed, seeing your husband's dark red blood soak through his lighter coloured suit. "What happened?"

"Bad guys... too many pocket knives... kinda got stabbed... a few times..." he groaned, rolling over.

Ignoring the way his blood stained the cream carpet, you tore his mask off, revealing a flushed Peter.

Pressing the metallic spider, his suit went baggy, allowing you to shake it off his limp body.

"Oh my G..." you trailed off, looking at his scarred body. Three large thrashes adorned the front of his torso, seeping red.

Bruises were marked along his shoulders and pecs, from where he must have been thrown to the ground. Your jaw slacked at the sight. Clutching your stomach, you heaved, feeling the sudden urge to puke.

"I'll get the uh- the first aid box," you gagged, looking away from the sight.

Coming back with the necessary equipment, you grimaced. Taking out a Cotten ball and some rubbing alcohol, your hand hovered around one of the wounds.

"This is gonna sting a bit." You warned as you began to dab at the blood.

Peter clenched his teeth, grinding them back and forth.

"Here," you mumbled, handing him a leather belt that was scattered on the floor.

He bit down on it, hard, while you continued to clean his upper body. Tears began to pool in his eyes as you dug in deeper, attempting to clean the inside.

A pang of sympathy shot through your body. Your heart told you to feel bad for the man you loved who was currently in so, so much pain. But your mind said it was his fault. That he was probably being reckless just to spite you.

Your heart led you though, and you placed a tender hand on his cheek, stroking it lightly.

"It's gonna be okay baby," you whispered, "I'm almost done."

He grunted through the belt, reaching up to hold your hand against his cheek, making it stay there.

With your free hand, you focused on treating the rest of his body.

When you finished, a few deep gashes remained, but weren't still bleeding, so you cleaned up, knowing that they would heal themselves.

Handing Peter some pain meds, you told him, "Take these, it'll make it hurt less.", before climbing into bed.

He took them dry, standing up and limping towards you. Going over to his side, he pulled the covers back.

"Wait..." you told him, turning around. "Can you not sleep in here tonight?"

"You don't want me to sleep in here?" He repeated hoarsely, looking at you in the dim lighting of the room.

"No... I mean, I'm still kinda mad at you Peter."

"Then why did you help me?"

"Because you're my husband. And I love you. And no matter how much of a jerk you are, it pains me to see you so hurt. Not because I had forgotten about earlier." You explained.

"You know what? Fine, I'll leave," he grumbled angrily, "But you know, I could've died tonight."

"And whose fault would that've been?" You asked annoyed with your husband's inability to take blame.

Peter only scoffed at this, and slammed the door shut behind him.

You woke a few hours later, with the nausea that had become routine by this point. Hopping out of bed, you ran out of the bedroom, scurrying into the bathroom.

You saw all of your dinner being deposited into the bowl in front of you, gagging again at the sight.

Suddenly, you felt your hair being pulled back off your shoulders, and you looked up to see a tired Peter, dressed in nothing but his red checkered boxers, squatting behind you. Glancing down at his stomach, you noticed that his abs, though beautifully toned, were clear of any wound. It didn't even look like it had been scratched.

"Feeling sick?" He yawned, and you wiped a bit of puke from the corner of your mouth.

"Y-Yeah... I thought you were mad at me," you said uneasily. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because you're my wife. And I love you. And no matter how long you can hold a grudge, it pains me to see you hurt," he smiled at you, repeating the words you had spoken to him earlier that morning. Pressing a light kiss to your temple, he hummed lightly in your ear.

"Peter-"

"I'm sorry about earlier. You were only looking out for my safety, and, well, turns out when I don't listen to you it doesn't end up too well," he chuckled. "You're right, I was being a dick, and I should've been more understanding to the fact that you needed some time alone."

"Peter, wait," you cut him off, turning around in your seat so that you were facing him. Tapping the ground in front of you, he took your cue, and sat down crisscrossed. "I haven't been completely honest with you... the reason why I was so worried about your safety last night was... I found out I'm pregnant," you said, the last word barely coming out any louder than a whisper.

"What?" He choked, face turning paper white.

"I found out yesterday, and I didn't know how to tell you so I didn't and then all these scenarios kept running through my mind. Like what it Peter dies out there before he even gets to meet his child. And what if I have to be a single mother in New York City, then what am I gonna do? Not to mention that losing you- losing you..." you trailed off, crying hysterically.

Peter stood up, pulling you after him. "Shhh, shhh," he whispered in you ear, wrapping his strong arms around you. "You're not gonna lose me okay?"

"But you don't kn-"

"Yes I do," he cut you off again, pressing a finger faintly to your lips.

"I just love you so much," you whimpered, laying your head on his chest.

"I love you too," he murmured, before lifting his head up. "Wait- I'M GONNA BE A DAD!"

Eh kinda crappy ending but oh well what to do what to do.