Peter Parker/Spider-Man Drabbles

136, 57, 104

136. "You had a nightmare, tell me what it was about so I can fix it."

57. "Don't talk anymore."

104. "...or we can chill in our underwear." 

WARNING: Mild swearing and descriptions of pain that could be triggers. 

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 I'm barefoot in luscious green grass on a cliff, looking out across the ocean. The water is light blue and the waves are calm. I wiggle my toes, my feet itching to take a step forward or push off the ground and dive. Someone calls to me and I turn around. I can't make out who they are, but they wave their arm, beckoning me to come over, so I take off running.

The ground beneath my feet slowly begins to change from grass to dirt, then from dirt to stones, from stone to sharp rocks, from sharp rocks to shards of glass, from shards of glass to needles, then from needles to flames. But, somehow, I'm still running. There's pain and agony with every step and I'm shouting and screaming in pain, but I can't stop. I try to will myself to jump, to launch myself out of the misery, but I can't. My feet are like magnets. Enough strength to separate from the ground, but only momentarily, then they're pulled back down.

Then all of a sudden, the ground dissappears and I start falling.

I wake up, but for a moment it still feels like I'm falling so I throw my arms out to catch myself.

"Motherfucker!"

"Oh my god! Peter! I'm so sorry!" I reach for him, but I can't see him in the darkness and my hand knocks into something hard.

"Fuck!"

I wince and pull my hand back quickly. "Sorry," I mumble.

"It's okay," Peter whispers and I feel his hand brush my side. I scoot closer to him and he wraps his arm around my waist.

As my eyes adjust to the light, I can see his other hand pressed firmly to his jaw. I must have knocked him in the teeth.

"I'm so sorry, baby," I whisper. "Do you need ice?"

"No," he groans quietly. "It's okay. I promise." He pulls me closer and I rest my head on his shoulder. "You had a nightmare?" I nod. "Tell me what it was about so I can fix it."

"I feel like I should be the one fixing you," I mutter. "God, I'm so stupid! I feel so bad! I'm so sorry, Peter!"

He laughs lightly. "Quit apologizing. I promise I'm okay. Are you okay? Tell me about your nightmare."

"It wasn't scary, exactly," I mumble. "It just hurt. Like, I could feel everything. I was in so much pain."

"I can fix that," Peter whispers and a second later, his lips are grazing my neck, leaving soft kisses on my skin.

"Peter, I-"

"Shhhhhhh..." he's so quiet, I can barely he him. "Don't talk anymore."

He kisses down my neck and I lean away as chills race up and down my spine. He pulls the neckline of my sweater down and plants light, gentle kisses on my shoulder and my partly exposed chest.

"Peter..."

"What did I say about not talking?" he laughs lightly. But, before he can go back to kissing my skin, I slide away from him and lean against the wall. He sighs, "Do you want to go back to sleep?"

I shake my head.

"Then maybe we should talk..."

I shake my head again.

"...or we can chill in our underwear."

I look up at him and we both laugh.

He reaches out for me and I take his hand in mine.

"You're safe here," he whispers. "Nothing's going to happen to you as long as I'm around. I promise."

He smiles at me and I return a slight smile.

"We don't have to sleep, or talk," he continues, "but, can I please hold you?"

I nod slowly and scooch over to him. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me onto his lap. I rest my head back on his shoulder and close my eyes.

He kisses my forehead. "Nothing and no one is going to harm you," he whispers. "Not now, not ever. I promise."