atypical

Peter was awoken by Gwen trying to burrow herself under his sleeping body. The weight of his body was the perfect amount of pressure onto hers when she needed to stim and she often demanded he lay on her without holding back any force. He groaned and felt her go still, knowing she was trying not to wake him.

“‘m s’rry,” she slurred sleepily, her voice small, “Needa squeeze.”

“‘Sokay, baby,” Peter murmured, rolling over so she could lay where he was before rolling back on top of her and wrapping his arms around her smaller frame, “I can give you a squeeze.”

“Mm,” Gwen hummed in appreciation, rubbing her hands along his bare back, “Th’nk you, love.”

That’s how lots of their days together began. Peter was a huge part of Gwen’s routine, even down to being involved in many of her most typical stims. The two had known each other since they were in diapers, and Peter had been there for Gwen after she’d been diagnosed with autism when they were only five years old. Peter’s parents had just died, and Gwen’s were stressed dealing with two baby boys and a disabled little girl. So, the two spent most of their time with May and Ben before the latter’s untimely demise. The Parkers had always been entirely accommodating to Gwen, never judging her for being different. Now, as adults living together as two fiances to be wed, Peter was just as caring when it came to Gwen.

Later, Gwen sat on the floor of the living room in just cotton shorts and a sports bra due to the unbearable summer heat as she picked at the breakfast she and Peter had just prepared. Her long blonde hair was sticking out in every direction with her hot pink noise dampening headphones jammed on top of her head without a care. Peter had accidentally dropped a ceramic bowl while he scrambled her eggs and the sound of the loud shatter had sent her close to the edge. Her slender fingers twitched and tapped at random surfaces like the side of her cup, the edge of her plate, the coaster on the coffee table, or the glass of the table itself. Eating was a very tough sensory experience for Gwen, almost every time. She has to be really hungry to just eat and not muck around with it before mustering the nerve to attempt stomaching it.

Peter watched on as he cleaned up the kitchen, knowing he could wait to eat and would still finish before Gwen. Tidying was something Gwen also struggled with. She wasn’t untidy by any means, cleaning up just overwhelmed her. 

“Babe,” Peter called out, making Gwen shovel a forkful of scrambled eggs and a bite of toast into her mouth quickly, “Can I get you anything?”

“No, ‘fank yoo,” Gwen choked around her mouthful of food before clearing her throat and swallowing, “Love it, thank you.”

”You’re welcome, my love,” he replied, finally digging into his own breakfast at the breakfast bar, “Just let me know if I can help you.”

Gwen hummed before hooting like an owl, so accurately that when Peter was half-asleep, that stim scared him the most. Now, he looked on at her fondly as her hooting continued and her hands began to flap before her fingers tense up again. 

“I’m gonna marry an owl,” Peter muttered into his eggs, “At least you don’t bring dead animals into the house.”

“Yuck,” Gwen stuck her tongue out before taking another bite of eggs and pushing her plate away, “No more.”

”Okay,” he nodded, walking over and inspecting what she’d left on the plate before nodding again and taking it from her, “Thank you, baby. You ate even more than I thought you would, nice job.”

“Nice job,” she echoed, giving him a thumbs up before getting up off the floor, “Gonna swing.”

“I don’t know, lover,” Peter called out after her as she began trotting up the stairs, setting down the plate before following her up, “You just ate. Maybe let your stomach settle first.”

Another thing Gwen did to stim was aerial yoga. In her aerial silks, it was very common to see his fiancee swinging and dancing from the ceiling. She’d been briefly into ballet as a kid but couldn’t handle the sensory experience of being a practicing ballerina. So, she was recommended to try aerial yoga and it was an incredible match. Gwen could spend all day in her silks, solely content from the compression of the swing and the feeling of free-hanging high up in the air. 

“No,” Gwen shook her head and Peter imagined she’d cross her arms over her chest if she didn’t need to keep one hand on the bannister as she ascended the stairs, “Gotta swing now.”

“How about we watch one Final Destination movie together, and then you can go for a swing?” he nearly begged, “I don’t think you want to clean vomit out of your swing, babe.”

”Urgh,” she grumbled, knowing he was right, so she stomped over to the guest room, “I’m starting the movie without you.”

“If it’s the fourth one, go ahead,” Peter returned with a smile, following behind her anyway, “That one sucks.”

“They all suck,” Gwen chuckled, her finger carding through the large collection of Blu Rays and DVDs on the massive bookcase in the guest room, “Let’s watch the Evil Dead remake instead.”

One of Gwen’s special interests was horror movies, good and bad, the bloodier the better. Slashers were preferred, given the greater volume of blood and guts, but she liked other subgenres as well. Peter had been indifferent to horror his entire life, even when Gwen loved watching old slashers when they were kids, but he loved Gwen. He’d sat through countless hours of movies that terrified him just for his favorite girl to be happy.

”As long as you hold me,” he grimaced, “That one is brutal.”

“Kay,” she nodded with a wide smile, pulling the Blu Ray off the shelf and popping it into the player on the entertainment center as Peter settled into the guest room’s bed, “So much blood!”

“Lots and lots of blood,” Peter affirmed with a nod, “Most blood ever, if I remember correctly.”

“Yes!” Gwen squealed with flappy hands again, “It still holds the record for most amount of fake blood used in a movie! That’s so cool!!”

“Yes, dear,” he chuckled at her excitement over a movie she’d seen hundreds of times, “Now come here, even the studio logos scare me.”

“Big baby,” she teased, taking her earmuffs off and flapping her hands some more as she rocked on her toes, “I need a squeeze!”

“C’mere then,” Peter whined, making grabby hands at her and smirking when she squealed again before crawling into the bed with him, “Can’t squeeze you from all the way over there, love.”

One thing that enriched their relationship was Gwen’s interest in Peter and her need to almost be suffocated with affection, she was the only one Peter felt could keep up with him as touch starved as he was. It was like Gwen fed off the physical contact with him, and Peter needed more affection than most. She settled into his lap, nuzzling her nose into his neck and kissing him there when she felt his heart rate skyrocket at the sound of the movie starting. Gwen continued to press kisses across the skin of his neck and jaw, her hands skating across the bare skin of his chest and abdomen. Peter never wore shirts at home, especially in the summer, and it sometimes drove Gwen wild even though she loved skin-to-skin contact.

Gwen hummed in content when Peter wrapped his hand around her wrist and squeezed tightly, his other arm wrapping snugly around her waist. Peter peppered kisses across her face and rocked her side to side in his lap. He reminisced on the day he’d proposed to her, a day he’d planned for at least ten years in advance. The couple were on vacation in Jamaica and Peter had taken Gwen to the beach. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the picture perfect day. But, he’d planned for that too. Gwen had had a meltdown the minute they got to the beach and was practically inconsolable for the entire day. She’d been distant from Peter, not wanting him to touch her or be too close to her in any capacity. Luckily, he had nothing but love and patience for her in his heart and was able to think on his feet, adapting with ease. By the time he’d fed Gwen and made sure she’d had plenty of time in the water and in the shade, she was feeling better as the sun started to set. 

She didn’t want a huge public spectacle, she’d always been clear about that. Plus, at the time, Peter didn’t think she’d do well with an audience. He also didn’t want her to feel pressured to react in any sort of way, he just wanted to marry her. As expected, Gwen had cried her eyes out when she registered the implication behind seeing him on one knee in the sand with a ring in hand. Her hands flapped so hard Peter could hear her wrists popping and she whined and moaned as she rocked back and forth on her sandy toes. She was so overwhelmed, it almost triggered another meltdown. Peter was quick to put the ring off to the side and make sure she was okay, carefully wiping her tears. Of course, Gwen quickly assured him she was accepting and needed to marry him the way she needed air. 

In the present, Gwen was toying with a small section of her hair with her eyes glued to the screen. Peter hid behind Gwen’s shoulder, kissing the bare skin there before snuggling into her back. His nose was buried in the crook of her neck from behind and he admired the ring on her finger before his eyes were scrunched shut. Gwen sat fully content in his lap, engrossed in the horror film like she hadn’t seen it a hundred times. She could practically recite the film from memory at this point, but she loved it so Peter didn’t make her feel bad about it. Whatever brought her joy, Peter had no issue with. He wrapped his arms around her middle and kissed her neck again before settling in the space between her neck and shoulder to enjoy the movie.

Later, he would tidy up the house while Gwen swung from her silks for a few hours. She’d stim vocally and spin around in her human-sized sock while Peter watched on fondly before getting to some research for his thesis. Gwen already got her PhD the year before they got engaged, having hyperfixated on her education after high school. Due to his intelligence, Peter wasn’t far behind. They’d get married after he got his doctorate and they’d talk to Gwen’s therapist about starting a family. Gwen was almost certain she wanted to be a mother but was unsure about how, so she wanted to talk to her team of doctors and specialists about it. No matter what conclusion they came to, Peter was excited for their future.