Peter Parker and Spider-Man are the same person, but they live in different worlds.

Spider-Man is the one who swings through the city and helps people and fights bad guys, who knows the Avengers, who can lift a truck with his bare hands. Peter is the normal high school kid in academic decathlon, the physics nerd, terrible at gym and kind of a loser. Pretty much a nobody.

But a lot of times, the lines blur.

Peter Parker should be at least a little winded after running up to Gwen's place like this, should take the steps to her door in a one-two-three instead of a single bound. He should not have a spider-emblazoned suit on underneath a button down shirt and jeans or webshooters hidden under long sleeves, even if it was faster than changing wholesale on his way over.

But when Gwen opens the door, he's not thinking about any of that.

"Hi, Gwen." He doesn't bother trying to hide his own smile, though he does look abashed at her mock-disappointment. "Sorry, yeah, there was just -- " he waves a hand in the direction of somewhere back there "just -- there was a thing, and it was, like, huge, and I had to take a detour, it was crazy."

Then, he adds, "You look really pretty." Because it has to be said.