Peter Parker/Spider-Man Drabbles

155, 191, 213, 230

(prompts from the first list I posted)

Before I get started, I want to take a moment to thank this beautiful soul. She's one of my favorite people right now and you should all go follow her and talk to her and love her cause she's amazing and super gorgeous and so very nice and absolutely hilarious and I love her very much! Thank you for helping my lam ass write some lame stuff, but even more, thank you for being my friend! I love you! That is all. :)

"I need a place to stay."
"Stop being so cute."
"Here, take my blanket."
"Hold still."

WARNING: swearing (probably) and descriptions of patching up an injured person

...

It's a little past two in the morning when I wake up to the sound of someone knocking furiously on my front door.

I groan and slide out of bed.

"I'm coming!"

The knocking turns into banging as I grab my glasses and shove them on and slowly shuffle out of my bedroom.

I yawn. "I'm coming!"

The banging on the door grows even louder as I get closer to the door and I mentally and physically prepare myself to murder whoever's behind it.

"Jesus Christ!" I groan as I grab the doorknob, turn it, and yank open the door. "What the fuck do you-...Peter?!"

He's slouched against the door, his backpack hangs off his right shoulder. His clothes are tattered and dirty, his bottom lip is busted, his left eye is swollen, and there's a stream of blood slowly creeping down the left side of his forehead.

"Hi," he mumbles and smiles slightly. "I need a place to stay."

"Um...okay," I stammer and step aside. "Yeah, come...come on in."

He tries to stand up straighter, but starts to crumble.

I lunge forward and slip my arms under his. I sink slightly under his weight, but quickly get my footing. I pull Peter's right arm over my shoulders and wrap my left arm around his waist. I kick the door closed as I start backing into my apartment. I have to support most of Peter's weight as he struggles to lift his feet. Somehow I manage to help him over to the couch and he collapses onto it.

"Oh my god, Peter! What the hell happened to you?!"

"I got in a fight," he chuckles lightly, but his laugh turns into a cough. He squeezes his eyes shut and winces as he tries to get comfortable and lean back against one the armrests.

I run to the bathroom, grab my first-aid box, and hurry back. I set the large cardboard box on the floor beside the couch and drop to my knees. I rummage through it and find the alcohol prep pads, grab a handful, tear one off, and rip open the packaging.

"This is gonna sting," I warn.

"Just do it," Peter mumbles.

I clean the cut on his head first, since it's still bleeding. Peter winces and pulls away out of reflex.

"Hold still," I say sharply.

"I hate you," Peter says through gritted teeth.

Once it's clean, I grab a couple of butterfly clasps and close the gash.

"I don't think you'll need stitches, but we should keep a close eye on that and you have keep it clean.'

"No shit," Peter mutters.

"Hey," I snap at him playfully. "Don't sass me, mister. I don't have to help you."

He looks at me and smiles. "Thank you."

"That's much better," I smile slightly back.

I clean up the rest of his face and break a cool pack for his eye. He presses it to his head firmly as I examine the rest of his body.

"Are you gonna tell me what happened?" I ask as I clean his scraped hands.

"Nope."

"Are you going to tell me anything?"

"Nope."

I groan and he laughs lightly. Once I'm done with his hands, I work on a gash on his leg that I didn't notice before. It's deeper than the cut on his head, but I clean and bandage it well, so it should heal fine without stitches. Still...

"You should be in a hospital right now," I say quietly as I finish up with his leg.

"Probably," he nods. "But then my favorite nurse wouldn't get to take care of me."

"Stop being so cute. I'm being serious, Peter."

"So am I!" he laughs lightly and I shoot him a glare.

I clean up the mess and help him out of his dirty, blood-stained clothes and into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt.

"No, really Peter." I can feel myself starting to get upset, but I fight back the tears as I pull the t-shirt down over his head. Now is not the time to get emotional. "What if you get really, badly hurt?" I ask as I kneel down on the floor beside the couch. "What if you get knocked out or captured? What if you get killed? What are you going to do then?"

"Nothing," he shrugs. "I'd be dead."

I drop my head and bite my bottom lip hard, resisting the urge to smack him. "You know what I mean." I look back up at him and I can feel the tears prickling my eyes. I'm not sure if I can hold them back anymore. I'm not sure I want to.

Peter holds out his right hand. I take it in my left and he pulls me toward him. I climb onto the couch beside him, but he reaches out for me and pulls me onto his lap.

"Peter-"

"It's okay," he says quietly. "I'm okay." I look at him, my eyes starting to water. "I promise," he whispers and kisses my cheek softly.

We sit there for a few minutes. His arms wrapped around me and my head rested on his shoulder. I close my eyes and try to focus on the sound of his breathing and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the spice cabinet like smell of his hair. I don't want to forget him.

Ever.

"You should get some sleep," I whisper after a little while. I climb off him and walk back to my room, but I return quickly.

"Here," Peter looks up as I drape a blanket over him. "Take my blanket."

"What about you?"

I climb back onto the couch, lift up the blanket, and slide under it. "I'm staying right here," I smile. "Nothing you say or do could get me to leave your side."

He smiles. "I love you," he says quietly.

I lean forward, take his face in my hands, and press my lips gently to his forehead. I stay there for a moment then lean back and look into his rich brown eyes and smile. "I love you too, Spider-Man."

...

Oh goodness gracious! So much cheese and fluff!

I'm the worst with endings and I pick the most cliche way to wrap things up, but...who even cares???

Not me! :P

Hope you liked this! - Katy :P