Work Text:
It is a common misconception that Peter Parker never shuts up. He does. On rare occasions, yes, but he does. On quiet mornings, when the air is still and he wakes to the sound of a small breakfast being cooked, and the smell of bitter coffee, sometimes he hears the quiet tones of Matt humming contently to himself. So he stays there, and rolls over onto his back, listening drowsily to a tune he cannot place, content and warm. Sometimes he wonders if it's a song that his mother used to sing to him, or a song whose lyrics kept him from missing his father so badly.
He never asks, the same way Matt never asks about his parents, or his uncle. It's a sore subject for both of them, that brings up too many memories, and too much guilt for either of them to shoulder. So maybe he'll never know about the song Matt hums in the mornings. And maybe the redhead will never volunteer the information. But still, Peter's content to just lie there in their bed, wondering quietly to himself just what makes his lover hum such an unrecognizable tune until his stomach pulls him out of bed, and forces him to start the day.