Spider-Man Imagines

Cinnamon | Peter Parker (TH)

so my aunt is getting induced tonight & that means i'm at the hospital all night without any sleep (let's hope either she has the baby sort of quickly or there's a coffee machine in the vending areas haha) --- but i will probably write another imagine rather soon.

anyway, this is just some peter fluff to balance out the amount of angst i've written lately :-)

prompt 10 requested by spookyparker

//

It was a very chilly Saturday and you were, happy and relaxed, hanging out with your boyfriend all day.

Peter was mostly focusing on the television, running his fingers through your hair while you had your head propped up against his leg, your own legs draped over the ends of the sofa and a mystery novel in your hands.

As the television show went in commercial, Peter leaned his head back against the couch and looked down at you. His fingers lightly brushed through your hair as he watched you read.

You caught him looking. "What? Do you want me to move?" you asked, going to close your book.

"No, no," he said, eyebrows pulling together. "No, I don't want you to move. I-I mean, you can if you want, but this is nice." His hands went back to playing with your hair.

"This is nice," you agreed, smiling at him.

"Sorry I was staring," he said. His eyes followed the trail of his hand as he slipped it down the side of your face, cupping your cheek before stroking the skin. "You're just really pretty and it distracted me."

You turned your head towards him and captured his hand, giving his palm a quick kiss before you flipped over on your stomach and propped your arm up on your hand, looking at him with big eyes.

"I love you," you said happily, "but you're a giant sap and it grosses me out, Peter Parker."

"I love you more," he replied, laughing at the joke, his hand falling to your back.

You propped your book on his leg and used him as a table as you read on in your book. He paid all of his attention to the television now, where a favorite episode of The Office came on.

Twenty minutes into it, Peter tapped you on the shoulder.

"Babe," he said, "let's run out and grab some coffee."

"Huh?"

"Let's go find a cafe," he insisted, eyes bright.

"Where did this idea come from?" you asked. "I mean, I love it, of course, but huh?"

"I don't know, I thought about taking you to one yesterday at school when you were complaining about not being able to make a good pumpkin spice latte at home, and we aren't really doing anything, so," he paused, shrugging, "why not?"

You grinned. "Okay!"

"Okay!" he said, equally as excited.

You got off the couch and ran to the front door, grabbing your boots and slipping them on. Peter grabbed his Midtown sweater, glanced at you, and handed it to you. You blushed and smiled, slipping it on over your thin t-shirt. He always fave you his sweatshirt (and to be sure he did, you would purposefully forget to bring one).

He ran to his room and grabbed a grey sweatshirt and slipped it on over the science t-shirt he had on. Shaking his head, he fixed his hair and made sure he had his wallet.