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You sit at your usual lunch spot, a narrow café tucked between two brick buildings in Midtown, the kind that smells like toasted bread and burnt espresso no matter the hour. Your break is short, but this table feels like a pocket of calm you fiercely protect.
Your boyfriend, Zayne sits to your right, long legs tucked awkwardly beneath the small table, still in his hospital scrubs with a dark coat thrown over them. He looks tired in that quiet, dignified way, dark circles under his eyes, mouth relaxed only now that he’s not on call. Across from you, also your boyfriend, Caleb slouches comfortably, one boot nudging your foot playfully, camera bag resting against his shin like a loyal dog. His brown hair is a mess as usual, like he’s run his hands through it a dozen times already today.
Rarely does Zayne manage to join you both like this, even with the hospital close by and the warmth curling in your chest says you’re not going to waste a second of it.
“Boss really wants me to get in some pictures of Spider-Man,” you sigh, stirring your drink until the ice clinks softly. You take a sip, eyes flicking between them. “I fear the paper doesn’t care for my local posts anymore.” Your mouth twists wryly. “I fear you’ve raised the standards with your Spider-Man pictures, Caleb.”
Caleb freezes mid-bite, half a bagel dangling from his fingers. He frowns. “Hey-no! Your work is just as important.” He shakes his head. “And no way should you be out there during fights.” His brows knit together as he runs a hand through his messy hair, worry flashing plainly across his face. “Better to stay with the local stories.” He hesitates, then softens. “Maybe you can take some of my shots and claim them? I’d be okay with that.”
Zayne lifts his cup, dark eyes narrowing slightly over the rim of his chocolate mocha. You try not to giggle at the slight cream still on his lips. “Caleb,” he says evenly, “you know as well as I do they’d figure out the photos were yours.” His gaze sharpens, a doctor’s stare honed by too many late nights and bad news. “And you’re the one lecturing about safety, as if you aren’t out there dangling off rooftops for those pictures.”
Caleb snorts, a crooked smile breaking through as he leans back. “Hey, not all of us can be smart doctors making bank.”
Zayne rolls his eyes, lips twitching despite himself. “Both of you don’t need to be working this hard. My job pays well enough.”
“Ha,” Caleb shoots back, pointing at him with his bagel. “Says Mister Works-Himself-Into-the-Ground.”
You lift a hand, cutting in before they can spiral. “It’s fine. I’ll figure something out.” You glance at Caleb, one brow raised, curiosity sparkling. “Besides, I doubt I could find Spider-Man as easily as you do.” You lean closer, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “Did you plant a tracker on him or something? Honestly, I don’t know how you do it.”
Zayne’s expression shifts, thoughtful, amused, as he looks at you. “I think they’re friends,” he says casually, lips curving into a smirk. “We may have competition, my love. Superman might be after his heart.”
You laugh, the sound bright and unguarded, earning a glance from the table nearby.
Caleb just sighs, rubbing his face with both hands before peeking at you through his fingers. “I hate both of you,” he mutters, fond, resigned, and very much unconvincing, before taking another bite of his food as the city hums on outside.
After a flurry of hugs and quick kisses goodbye, the rest of the afternoon passes quietly. Almost too quietly.
-
By the time the sun begins to dip behind the buildings, painting the windows gold and orange, you’re seated at a small table near the front of a cozy restaurant that’s been open for years. The place smells like garlic and frying oil, warm and familiar. This is your kind of story local culture, small businesses, people trying to survive in a city that never slows down. You love it… and that makes the knot in your chest tighter, knowing these articles don’t get the same attention anymore.
The owner sits across from you, hands folded around a mug, smiling politely while you skim your notes. Your pen taps once against the page.
You glance at your phone.
The trio group chat.
From an hour ago.
Zayne: Heading home early tonight.
Caleb: gasp does that mean Zayne’s place tonight? Cuddles?
Zayne: You’re sleeping on the sofa.
Caleb: :(
A soft smile pulls at your lips before you can stop it. You tuck the phone away and lift your eyes to the owner again, professional mask sliding back into place.
“With the ever-changing life of the city—”
White.
A blinding flash tears through your vision. Then sound, shattering glass, a deep boom that rattles your bones. The world tilts violently and you’re thrown from your chair.
You hit the floor hard.
Your ears ring like someone slammed cymbals beside your head. Sharp pain stabs through your palms as you try to push up, glass embedded in your skin. Your shoulder screams in protest. Smoke and dust choke the air.
Then everything goes black.
When your vision returns, it’s blurry and dim. Your throat tightens as you groan, trying to breathe through the smoke. Heat licks at your skin. Flames crawl up the far wall, hungry and bright.
Panic hits second.
You drag yourself upright, legs trembling. Your heart pounds painfully in your chest. Whatever happened… it happened outside. But staying here means burning alive. You stagger toward what used to be the door.
A strong hand grips your arm.
“Are you okay?”
A firefighter. His face is streaked with soot, eyes wide behind his mask. You nod weakly, words refusing to come. He guides you out, your weight sagging against him as your knees threaten to buckle.
Outside is chaos.
Car horns scream. Sirens wail. People shout and cry. The noise feels distant, muffled, like you’re underwater. Police have someone in cuffs, someone unfamiliar. Another villain, maybe. The street is littered with debris and broken glass.
Then you see him.
Spider-Man stands a few yards away, speaking with an officer. His mask tilts as if he’s scanning the crowd.
Your heart sinks. Of course. The one time you see him in person… and your camera is probably melting inside a burning restaurant.
Medical personnel surround you, voices overlapping.
“Can you tell me your name?”
“Any dizziness?”
“Where does it hurt?”
You answer by nodding, too dazed to form proper sentences. Your eyes drift back to Spider-Man.
He looks at you.
The second your gazes meet, his body stiffens. His hands curl slowly into fists at his sides. He takes one step toward you, then stops himself.
You look down quickly, suddenly aware of your hands. Blood streaked across your palms, glass, mixed with dust and ash.
“Is everyone out of the building?”
Your breath catches.
Caleb’s voice.
You lift your head, heart pounding, scanning the crowd.
Spider-Man is now speaking to the firefighter who rescued you. His posture… the way he stands… the way his head tilts when he listens…
It hits you all at once.
The photos.
How he always found Spider-Man.The timing. The excuses.
Your vision swims.
Caleb…
Caleb is Spider-Man.
The realization makes your knees go weak. The world spins sharply and you start to collapse—
Strong arms catch you around the waist, pulling you back upright. Your last clear sound is his voice, the worry in his voice clearer than your own thoughts.
“Pipsqu— ma’ma, are you okay?”
And then everything goes dark again.
-
Voices drift through the darkness before you can open your eyes.
“Caleb, calm down.”
Zayne’s voice is low and steady, the same tone he uses with panicked patients. “She’s okay now.”
“How can you say that?” Caleb’s words trip over each other, raw with fear. “Zayne, she was there. How long was she in that building next to me and I had no idea? I was outside fighting and she was—”
“Caleb, my love.” Zayne cuts in gently. “You cannot be everywhere at once. As much as you try.” A pause. “But you must tell her everything. If you don’t… I will. You’ve hidden this for too long.”
That hurts more than the pounding in your skull.
He knew too?
For how long?
Were you the only one left in the dark?
Your lashes flutter open, light stabbing at your eyes. You groan softly.
“I—” your voice comes out dry and cracked. “I’m surprised I didn’t realize it sooner…” You squint at the ceiling. “…idiots.”
“Oh thank God,” Caleb breathes.
Zayne leans into view first. He’s still in his white coat, tie loosened, dark circles under his eyes. He looks exhausted, but relieved. His hands gently cradle your bandaged ones, thumbs brushing over the gauze.
“Ah, you’re awake,” he says softly. “How do you feel?”
Your vision clears enough to make out Caleb behind him, hovering like a nervous shadow. His shoulders are hunched, curls messy, eyes red like he’s been rubbing them too much.
“As good as you’d expect,” you groan, trying to sit up.
Zayne immediately helps you, sliding an arm behind your back. You catch the way his jaw tightens, the way his eyes flick over you like he’s checking every injury twice.
He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Don’t scare us like that.”
“Get over here, asshole,” Zayne calls without looking back.
Caleb moves instantly, dropping to his knees beside the bed. He looks… small somehow. Like a scolded puppy. There are tears in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Pipsqueak,” he blurts. “For everything. This is all my fault.”
His words tumble out as he leans his head against the mattress, still staring up at you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.
“You’re an idiot,” you say flatly. “This was not your fault.”
You turn your head toward Zayne. “And you’re an idiot too. How long have you both known while I’ve been in the dark?”
You try to stay angry, but Zayne’s tired eyes and Caleb’s devastated face drain the fire right out of you.
“Since Caleb first got his powers,” Zayne admits with a long sigh. “He showed up on my doorstep convinced he was dying.”
A laugh slips out of you despite everything.
You look at Caleb. He’s pouting now, cheeks faintly pink.
“Hey,” he protests, “it was scary! You start hearing flies in the next room and suddenly you’re breaking furniture by accident!”
“Oh, poor baby,” you tease weakly. “Suddenly super strong and practically invincible.”
Zayne chuckles softly and kisses you again, this time on the lips. “I’m just glad you’re okay. He’s been driving me insane all night.”
You snort. “As if you don’t love that.”
Your gaze slides back to Caleb. He’s still staring at your hands, jaw tight. You lift one carefully and tap his cheek with your bandaged fingers.
“And you,” you say, catching his eyes. “I am mad at you for hiding this from me.”
He flinches.
Then you smirk.
“So that means I get extra kisses.”
His eyes widen. “W-what?”
“And,” you add suddenly, “a date night. All three of us. On a rooftop.” You glance between them. “Think you can hold us both up, Spider-Man?”
For a second, they just stare.
Then Zayne laughs.
Caleb laughs.
You laugh.
The tension finally breaks, warm and light in the sterile hospital room, the fear easing into something familiar again love, teasing, and the quiet promise that nothing is secret anymore
-
The summer night air is cool against your skin as you sit on the rooftop, back resting against a wall. You’re higher than any normal civilian would ever be, the city stretching endlessly below, windows glowing like scattered stars, traffic moving in slow rivers of light. Somewhere far off, a siren wails, but up here it feels distant, unimportant.
Caleb and Zayne sit pressed against you, one on each side. Their heads rest on your shoulders, the faint weight of them grounding and warm. Empty ice cream cups sit near your feet, spoons abandoned after the last bites. The scent of sugar and strawberries lingers in the air.
“Seems much more peaceful up here, huh?” Caleb says, tilting his head slightly so his hair brush your neck. His voice is softer than usual, awe tucked into it. “I tried to get Zayne up here before, but he refused.” He lets out a short laugh. “Yet it only took you one second and he caved.” He clicks his tongue. “Favoritism.”
You laugh, the sound carried away by the breeze. “All you had to do was involve sweets.”
Zayne exhales through his nose, a small, fond smile tugging at his lips as he stares out over the skyline. The green of his eyes intensifying as they reflect the lights. “I just wanted it to be all of us up here,” he says simply. “No secrets.”
Caleb snorts. “Uh-huh, suuure,” he says, drawing the word out as he nudges closer. He nuzzles into your neck, cheek warm against your skin.
You turn toward him, lifting both hands to cup his face. His teasing grin falters, eyes widening for half a second before softening. The city lights reflect faintly in them as you look at him.
“Thank you,” you say quietly.
You kiss him, gentle, lingering. He smiles when you pull back, all sheepish and bright.
Then you turn to Zayne, mirroring the gesture. Your hands frame his face, thumbs brushing the faint shadows beneath his eyes.
“Thank you,” you say again, and kiss him too.
They both taste like strawberry ice cream and summer air.
“My little heroes,” you murmur, looping your arms around both of their shoulders and tugging them closer until they’re squished against your sides.
Caleb lets out a muffled protest-laugh. “Hey hey, careful, I’m fragile.”
Zayne hums softly, leaning into you without complaint.
Above you, the sky is deep and dark, the stars barely visible through the city glow. Below you, New York never sleeps.
But for this moment on a rooftop, it feels like the world finally slowed down just for the three of you