Earlier this day Peter texted you, something about a fight with his aunt and not being able to save somebody. You immediately demanded him to come over, not wanting him to hurt alone in his room.

You were the only one to know that he was Spiderman, besides Stark and Happy of course. So you laid on your bed waiting for him to come here, leaving the window open.

It took him longer than usual, too many thoughts on his mind, you assumed.
First came his backpack through the window, then he followed.

"Hey, Peter", you greeted him.
No answer. One look at his face told you he really wasn't feeling good.

Instead of talking you just opened your arms, you weren't good at talking anyways.
Peter let himself drop into your open arms, resting his head on your chest.

It didn't take long, until you noticed a change in his breathing. It was shorter, quicker. He was crying silently.
Gently you rubbed circles over his back and stroked his neck.

After a few minutes his breathing seemed to even out again and it only took another few minutes for him to fall asleep.
You on the other hand stayed awake, watching over him. But mostly because you didn't want to miss a single moment, banning every thought from your mind so you could take in this moment and never forget it.
You knew his scent would be prominent in your room for days, reminding you of the feeling of Peter laying in your arms.

Softly you rubbed your thumb over his shoulder, his response was a content sigh. Smiling in his sleep, he tightened his grip around your torso.

Everytime you seemed to calm him down made you proud. At least someone appreciated you.