Starkly in Love- A Spiderman x Reader

Chapter 3: Trust Me

The bus ride to D.C was a blur of me giddily staring out the bus window, 10-minute naps on Peter's shoulder and vice versa, and shaking Peter awake everytime anything semi-interesting happened. It's not that I had never traveled before, it's just that I've never traveled in a bus full of high-schoolers on some tacky field trip. It felt good to feel almost normal and to not be in an insanely expensive vehicle.

We only just had time to drop off our luggage for our 3-day trip before we were rushed off to the first monument. It was nothing I hadn't seen before, but I hadn't seen it surrounded by other kids my age.

The tour guide was droning on about its historical meaning, why it was built, and what we could learn about it. There were a few kids jotting down notes- they would probably be tested on this later- but the majority of us were messing around or not paying attention. We were about to move on, but a security guard came over and whispered something to one of the chaperones.

Nodding, the chaperone turned to us. "We've just been informed that there is an armed robbery occurring in a nearby by building, so for everyone's safety they are locking down the building. There is nothing to worry about, the police are on their way."

Peter's hand almost instantly shot up. "Mr. Barnes, may I use the restroom."

Mr. Barnes rolled his eyes. "Poor time, Mr. Parker, but you may."

Peter nodded quickly and booked it out of the room. I glanced over at a mutual friend of ours, Ned, who just shrugged and went back to whatever portable video game he had smuggled in. I didn't trust his shrug.

* * * * *

About 2 hours past before the building was opened, and Peter was nowhere to be seen.

"Ned," I nudged him as we eagerly left, "Do you have any clue where Peter is?"

He gave me that same untrustworthy shrug.

"Oh come on, you're his best friend and you have no clue?"

"Maybe he just caught up in another exhibit, you know how he is with history stuff. Besides, they have an Avengers exhibit here."

"For 2 hours?" I asked skeptically.

"I don't know, maybe it was really interesting," Ned brushed it off.

"Well if he's dead I'm suing you."

"What-?" He started, but I was already boring the bus and ignoring him.

I spent the whole trip back to the hotel checking my text conversation with Peter, refreshing, and checking again. Pushing past everyone else to be the first off, I hurried up to the suite that, no doubt, my father had a hand in, and we shared.

The key card suddenly decided not to work, so it took me a few tries and creative cursing to push open the door.

"Peter?!" I called as I scanned the almost apartment, "You better be in here and not dead or I'm going to kill you!"

"In here," His tired-sounding voice called from the two-bed bedroom.

I hurried into the room and stopped short. "Holy Tony Stark, Peter."

He was sitting on one of the beds, shirt off, with cuts and bruises on his torso and arms.

"You used your father's name in vain," he pointed out.

"Shut up, that's not the elephant in the room here," I shot back, plopping down beside him and taking one of his mysteriously bruised arms in my hand, "Why the heck do you look like you just got in some epic battle."

He started to speak but I cut him off. "And why did I not see you for the two hours everyone was locked up in a museum with an armed robbery occurring next door?"

"Which question do you want to be answered more?" He asked, a small smile on his face.

I sighed in frustration and dropped his arm. "Let me get my first aid kit and in that time you can decide if you want to corporate with me."

"You sound like a mother," Peter called after me.

I ignored his last stupid observation almost involuntarily as my head was swelling with theories as to why Peter looked like he'd been beaten up. And why did it happen during a robbery? I pushed back into the room with the first aid kit I carried with me everywhere out of habit; a habit I'd made because of my dad's crime-fighting hobby. I'd also rechrieved a glass of water while I was out and I set it down on a nearby nightstand before sitting back down beside Peter.

"Turn around," I said.

"Bossy are we?" Peter smirked at me as I opened the kit.

"Do you want me to clean you up or do you want to sleep in a pool of your own blood?"

Peter turned his back obediently toward me. "That's what I thought," I muttered. I opened a tube of Neosporin and picked up a warm, wet towel I had also grabbed

"This'll sting a little," I warned quietly, gently dabbing the crusted blood away. I heard him suck in his breath, but he was quiet and still otherwise. It took me only a few minutes to sufficiently clean and bandage his back, and a few more to do the same to his arms and torso. I obviously couldn't do anything about the spattering of bruises on his upper body and presumably on his legs.

"Peter," I said quietly.

"Hm?" he hummed.

"Do you really trust me?"

"What makes you think that I don't?" Peter asked, confusion clear in his voice.

"The fact that you won't tell me what happened to you and why."

"(Y/N)," he reached out and lightly touched my shoulder, "I wish I could, but I really can't."

"Can't or won't," I asked quietly, looking down.

"Can't," He said firmly, moving his hand to my cheek, "(Y/N), please look at me."

It took me a few seconds to decided whether or not to comply, but I did.

"Please, trust me on this." I could hear how much he wanted me to believe him in his voice. Even his chocolate brown eyes begged me.

I shook my head a little. "It's not that I don't want to, I just- I can't-" I took a deep breath-"How can I live with not knowing how this happens to you, this time and every other time you've shown up with mysterious bruises on your face."

"Please," he just repeated meekly.

I sighed and leaned a little into his hand resting lightly on my cheek. "Fine."

"Really?" His face light up.

"Only if you swear not to get killed doing whatever you're doing," I smiled a little.

"I swear it," he said excitedly, "Trust me."