[ Maskless, Peter keeps a keen eye on the rest of the city from his rooftop perch. And then he spends the next few minutes pacing without purpose, the rest of his costume feeling like a traitorous second skin, like it betrayed him even if that isn't - it can't the case. His heart is beating a million miles per minute and he isn't sure whether he should be calling Ned up or calling his aunt, or avoiding them, or - no, no, no. Gwen will have answers. Gwen will know what to do.
So the moment he hears the familiar thiwp of webbing and her feet touch the roofing, he feels the heavy weight in his chest lift a little. It's enough for now.
He's quick to wrap his arms around her too, burying his face into the crook of her neck. ]
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So the moment he hears the familiar thiwp of webbing and her feet touch the roofing, he feels the heavy weight in his chest lift a little. It's enough for now.
He's quick to wrap his arms around her too, burying his face into the crook of her neck. ]
I'm so screwed, Gwen.