Parings → Peter Parker x Stark! Reader
Warnings → Twisted ankle, fluff, Peter being the sweetest anxious bean, some Stark sarcasm.
Summary → While getting ready for a mission that requires formal wear, Peter sees you in a dress for the first time, and then you take a tumble down the stairs.
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The mission was one of those weird ones that required a tux instead of a suit. Intel-gathering at a fancy gala, blending in, champagne instead of web fluid. Peter had been nervously straightening his bowtie for the last fifteen minutes, pacing the living room of Avengers Tower like he was on trial.
Then he heard the unmistakable soft click of heels on hardwood.
He turned toward the staircase, already smiling.
And then he saw you.
You were descending like some goddess of satin, the cobalt blue of your dress shimmering with each step. The metallic blue heels made you a few inches taller, your hair was pinned just enough to look elegant but not too formal, and your eyes locked with his the second you noticed him staring.
You smiled, small and bashful.
Peter stopped breathing.
“Wow,” he said, barely audible.
You smirked, teasing. “You clean up nice too, Parker.”
He opened his mouth to respond, some joke, something flirty but not too flirty because you were still new at this relationship, but the words never came.
Because your heel caught on the edge of the next step.
And you fell.
“Y/N!” Peter bolted.
Thankfully, you didn’t roll all the way down. It was one of those dramatic-but-not-disastrous falls, more shock and twisted ankle than serious injury. Still, Peter’s heart nearly exploded. You were curled near the landing, wincing as you sat up, dress pooled awkwardly around your legs.
He reached you in seconds, crouching beside you. “Are you okay? What hurts? Is it your back? Your ankle? Should I call someone? Oh my God, do we need a stretcher? ”
You blinked at him, dazed. “I think… I twisted my ankle.”
He didn’t even hesitate. One arm under your knees, the other behind your back, and suddenly you were in his arms, being bridal carried down the last few steps, the mission completely forgotten.
You were laughing softly. “Peter, I'm fine. Really.”
“You fell down the stairs, babe,” he said, breathless. “You launched yourself.”
“Not on purpose.”
“Well, obviously.”
He carried you to the couch like you were made of glass and gently set you down, grabbing a throw pillow to prop up your foot. “I’m gonna get ice. Don’t move.”
You saluted, trying not to giggle. “Yes, sir.”
He disappeared into the kitchen, and you could hear fridge opening, ice cubes clinking, a few muttered curses under his breath. He came back with a towel-wrapped ice pack and carefully pressed it to your ankle.
You winced. “Okay, okay—ow—yep, that’s cold.”
Peter looked like he was about to cry. “I’m sorry! Do you want me to—?”
“No, it’s good,” you said, taking a deep breath. “Thank you.”
His cheeks were pink. “You scared the crap out of me.”
“I scared myself,” you admitted. “But hey—at least I made an entrance.”
Peter barked out a laugh, then sat beside you, still looking worried. His fingers fidgeted on the edge of the couch. “I… um… I’ve never seen you in a dress before.”
You glanced down at the rumpled satin. “First and last time, maybe.”
“No—don’t say that.” He reached over, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek. “You looked… you look beautiful.”
You froze.
So did he.
And then, slowly, your fingers found his. He looked down at the way your hands fit together, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.
He leaned in, just slightly.
So did you.
That’s when Tony chose to walk in.
“Ahem,” came the familiar voice of your father. “She just fell down the stairs, Romeo. You can suck her face later.”
Peter jumped like he’d been electrocuted, immediately scooting an inch away from you on the couch.
You groaned. “Dad, really?”
Tony raised his hands, smirking. “I’m just saying. Maybe let her not have a head injury before the makeout session.”
Peter covered his face with one hand. “This is my nightmare.”
You were laughing now, ankle throbbing but heart warm. Because honestly? If this was how falling for Peter Parker felt, you’d do it all over again.
∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗
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