For 30+ Advance/Early chapters :p
atreon.com/ScoldeyJod
Peter walked back to campus under the bruised purple sky of a Sunday evening. The streets were quiet, holding the lazy, melancholic stillness that always precedes a new week. His stomach was full of his aunt's roast chicken, but his mind was a chaotic whirlwind of emotions.
The fading hickey on his neck felt like a branding iron. It was a secret, scarlet letter that broadcasted his profound, earth-shattering pleasures to a world of one: his Aunt May. Her teasing had been mortifying, but as he replayed the conversation, he found a strange, unfamiliar feeling blooming in his chest underneath the embarrassment: a quiet, stubborn pride. He was marked. He belonged to someone. And the thought of that someone, waiting just a few blocks away in her serene, orderly room, made his steps quicken.
He didn't even bother going to his own room first. He walked straight to 4J and knocked, a new, confident rhythm to the sound that he didn't possess just a few days ago.
When Diana opened the door, she was dressed in a comfortable-looking grey sweater and dark leggings, her hair piled loosely on top of her head in a messy, elegant knot. She was reading a thick, leather-bound book, and a pair of simple, elegant reading glasses were perched on her nose. The sight of her, looking so studiously domestic and soft, was so at odds with the wild, passionate warrior from the previous night that it made his head spin in the most pleasant way possible.
"Your fuel stores have been replenished?" she asked, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips as she set her book aside and removed her glasses.
"Yeah, about that," he said, stepping inside as she closed the door. The quiet click sealed them in. "We might have a problem with the... uh... system's field application."
Her eyebrow arched in question as she turned to face him fully. "A flaw in the methodology?"
"A flaw in the discretion," he corrected, his voice a nervous rush. "My aunt. She, uh, she noticed a... data point." He tilted his head, showing her the side of his neck where the dark, purplish mark stood out against his pale skin.
Diana moved closer, her academic curiosity piqued. She leaned in, her gaze analytical and intense, and examined the hickey. Her fingers, cool and gentle, traced the outline of the bruise, and a shiver traced its way down Peter's spine despite himself.
"Fascinating," she murmured, her voice a low purr. "A subdermal hematoma caused by localized suction. The capillaries have ruptured." She looked up, her deep blue eyes meeting his, and the scientific detachment vanished, replaced by a spark of pure, unadulterated mischief. "I was very thorough, wasn't I?"
Peter let out a shaky breath. "Thorough doesn't even begin to cover it, Di. My aunt knew exactly what it was. She teased me relentlessly."
A slow, triumphant smile spread across Diana's face. It was a look of possessive pride, a look that sent a fresh wave of heat straight to his core. "Good," she said simply. "It is important for your tribe to know you are well cared for."
He stared at her, a laugh bubbling up in his chest. "My tribe? It's just my aunt, Di. And she thinks I have a girlfriend, not a... a symbiotic partner in a data-collection phase." The words, which had once seemed like a clever, logical shield, now just sounded ridiculous and flimsy.
"Is that what I am to you, Peter?" she asked, her voice quiet, the playful demeanor gone, replaced by a raw, searching vulnerability that caught him completely off guard. "A partner for data collection?"
The question hung in the air between them, heavy and fragile. This was it. The moment the flimsy pretense of their arrangement finally had to shatter.
"No," he said, his own voice dropping to a whisper. He reached out, his hands coming up to cup her face, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. "You know you're not. This isn't a system, Diana. Not anymore. I don't know what this is, but I know it's not that."
"I find my own analysis... inconclusive," she admitted, her gaze locked with his, her honesty a palpable force. "The data points are contradictory. Our arrangement was designed to be a logical separation of physical need and emotional attachment. Yet... I find myself thinking of you when we are apart. I missed you while you were gone this afternoon. These are not logical responses."
"Welcome to the club," he breathed, a wide, relieved grin spreading across his face. "I've been a card-carrying member for weeks. Probably since the day you stopped me from face-planting in the quad."
He leaned in and kissed her. It was a kiss of profound relief, a kiss that said all the things they were too scared to articulate. It was a kiss that sealed the death of their "system" and marked the birth of something new, something terrifying and wonderful and real.
When they broke apart, the tension that had defined their interactions for so long had vanished, replaced by a warm, comfortable clarity.
"So what now?" he asked softly. "What's the new protocol?"
Diana considered this for a moment, her expression serious. "The new protocol," she said finally, "is that we stop trying to define it with inadequate terms. We stop hiding behind logic. We just... are." She took his hand, her fingers lacing with his. "And we are, for the moment, two students with a biophysics midterm in less than a week."
Peter groaned, but there was no real heat in it. "You're unbelievable. You pick now to actually want to study?"
"Clarity of mind," she said, squeezing his hand, "is essential. And my mind, for the first time in a long time, feels very clear."
And so they studied. They sat on the rug, side-by-side this time, their shoulders brushing. They kept their clothes on. But the intimacy was deeper, more profound than before. When he struggled with a concept, she would patiently explain it, her hand resting on his back. When she asked a question about a term, he would answer, his knee pressed against hers. It was a quiet, domestic scene, a comfortable partnership that felt more real and more lasting than any of the explosive passion that had come before.
The next morning, Peter woke before his alarm, a nervous, happy energy buzzing under his skin. He showered and dressed quickly, pulling on a light turtleneck sweater despite the mild autumn weather. As he stepped into the hallway, the door to 4J opened at the exact same moment.
Diana stood there, dressed for class, a small, secret smile on her lips. "Good morning, Peter."
"Morning," he said, his own grin wide and unrestrained.
She looked him up and down, her eyes lingering on his choice of attire. "A turtleneck? An interesting sartorial choice for a warm day."
"Well," he said, feeling a faint blush rise in his cheeks. "Some of us have... data points... to conceal from the general public."
Her laugh was a low, melodic sound that made his chest feel warm. "A wise precaution. Though I find I do not mind the world knowing."
They walked to the elevator together, falling into an easy, comfortable silence. The awkwardness was gone, the tension replaced by a humming, happy energy that seemed to exist in a bubble around them. This was their new normal.
As they stepped out of the dorm and into the bright, bustling morning of the campus, Diana reached over and, without breaking stride, took his hand. Her fingers laced with his, a simple, public gesture that was more shocking and more thrilling than anything they had done in the privacy of their rooms.
Peter looked at their joined hands, then at her. She was looking straight ahead, a serene, confident smile on her face. They were a "we." They were heading to class. And for the first time, walking through the crowded campus, Peter Parker didn't feel like he was hiding at all. He felt like he was finally, truly, home.
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