TASM Peter Parker Imagines

Char

Peter Parker feels like he can hear his own death approaching. There's some sound playing in the back of his mind, some general feeling of unease that just won't leave him. Peter has no idea how to explain it, or even why a collection of nothings are filling him with so much paranoia, but he can't shake the feeling, no matter how hard he tries.

His days feel longer, his nights shorter and less restful. True, that might be because Peter's been throwing himself into his nightly Spider-Man patrols with a renewed vengeance, as if going out even more will stop whatever thing he keeps sensing, but still. The problem doesn't go away.

Now, he feels battered and beaten, sick of trying to protect everything from something he doesn't even know exists. He knew being Spider-Man would be hard, but it's his responsibility. It's a shame that he seems to have about a thousand other responsibilities as well.

At the moment, Peter is doing his best to not fall asleep in calculus, although that seems to be a greater task than taking down even the most notorious thugs and criminals in New York. He really does need to pay attention, but it's just so hard, not unlike the desk that is refusing to act as a good pillow for him.

A whisper cuts through Peter's sleep-deprived haze.

"Hey, Peter? Are you okay?"

He glances over to see Y/N L/N, his best friend in the entire cosmos. She's staring at him with that same cute wrinkle in her brow that she only gets in times of extreme confusion, or when he's acting strangely. Peter has a feeling that it's the latter right now.

So, he flashes a weary thumbs up, doing his best to pull himself together long enough to get through the day. "Just peachy. How are you?"

Y/N arches an eyebrow. "You look like death itself."

Peter grimaces. "If you wanted to hurt me, you could have just said that my math notes were wrong or something. No need to target my face."

Y/N rolls her eyes. "I'm not targeting you, just pointing out the obvious. When was the last time you got more than four hours of sleep?"

Peter holds up a hand. "Legally, I don't have to answer that. It's not my fault, though. I keep feeling like something is wrong, and I can't seem to rest until I figure out what that something is."

Y/N's eyes widen in excitement. "Is it because of your, you know-"

She breaks off to wiggle her fingers in a vaguely insectoid movement, alluding to beetles and spidery legs alike, before continuing.

"-your spider-thing?"

Peter groans. He ended up telling Y/N about his alter ego as Spider-Man a while back, he couldn't help it. Y/N's his best friend, there was no way he could keep something like that from her. It's been nice, too, to have someone who'll come up with alibis on the fly for why Peter is suddenly missing from class or study groups, someone who can patch him up when he shows up at her window unannounced and covered in blood.

On times like this, though, he almost regrets it (in a joking way, of course). He's glad Y/N wasn't dead serious about the whole thing, that she won't start asking him ethical questions about which people he decides to save and how he's willing to wear the mask and try to go around the police, but it would be nice if she could be a little serious about it, too.

"The spider-thing?"

Y/N grins, sensing that she's irritated him. "You know what I mean. Are you having dreams of large quantities of spiders, or red and blue suits?"

Peter gives her an unamused look. "You know I can't control spiders, we've been over this way too many times. And my suit is nice, so don't even come for it."