𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤

Whining Spider

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → fluff, sickness

Summary →Peter gets sick despite his spider immunity and you take care of him through his stubbornness.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

Peter had always been so smug about his enhanced immune system. "I'm Spider-Man," he'd boast, puffing his chest out like a proud peacock. "I don't get sick like normal humans." He'd even teased you the last time you got a cold, saying it was a perk of being Spider-Man's girlfriend, but apparently, his cockiness had caught up with him.

Now, here he was, bundled under a mountain of blankets, nose red, face pale, and eyes glassy with fever. You were sitting beside him on the bed, your fingers lightly running through his messy curls, watching him sulk like a stubborn puppy.

"I'm not sick," Peter mumbled, sniffling pathetically and pulling the blanket tighter around him. His voice was hoarse, and he punctuated his sentence with a rough cough that had him wincing.

You raised an eyebrow. "Really? Not sick? Then why do you sound like you swallowed gravel?"

He pouted, turning his head to face you, his brown eyes watery. "I'm fine. It's just a little cold. My spider immunity will kick in any second now."

You couldn't help but laugh softly at his ridiculous denial. "Peter, you've had a fever all day. Your 'spider immunity' is taking its sweet time."

He groaned, letting his head fall back onto the pillow dramatically. "This is so unfair. I never get sick! I'm Spider-Man!"

"Yeah, well, even Spider-Men can catch a cold, apparently." You leaned down and pressed the back of your hand to his forehead. He was burning up, and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"I'm dying," Peter whined, grabbing your wrist and pulling your hand down to his chest like he needed you to anchor him.

You rolled your eyes, but your heart softened at the sight of him so vulnerable. "You're not dying, drama queen. You've got a cold."

"It feels like dying," he groaned, closing his eyes. "I can't breathe. My head feels like it's about to explode. You should kiss me. It might cure me."

You laughed, lightly swatting his arm. "Nice try, but I'm not falling for that one, Parker. You're staying wrapped in those blankets until your fever breaks."

Peter whined, pulling at the blankets. "But they're itchy. And I'm too hot now."

"That's because you have a fever, dummy," you replied, exasperated but smiling as you reached for the cool washcloth you'd prepared. Gently, you placed it on his forehead, and he sighed in relief, his eyes fluttering shut.

"Thanks," he muttered, sounding much more like the sweet boy you knew underneath all the bravado. His hand found yours, giving it a weak squeeze. "You're the best."

"I know," you teased, brushing a stray curl off his forehead. "Now stop being stubborn and rest. You'll feel better soon."

Peter grumbled something incoherent but didn't argue anymore, his tired eyes closing. You stayed by his side, watching as his breathing evened out, his hand still gripping yours.

Even if he was a stubborn, whiny mess, you wouldn't trade taking care of him for anything. He was your stubborn, whiny mess.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗