Tom Holland and Peter Parker Imagines.

Late coming || PP

Word count: 1 566
Y/N/N - your nickname

Where's he? Is he okay? What if he is hurt? These questions were blowing up your mind last hours. It was three in the morning but you still hadn't got a text from Peter that he was at home.

Month ago Peter told you he was Spiderman. As you stopped freaking out from news you instated he called or texted you that he was safe at home. So he did it every time he went on patrol but today.

You texted and tried to call him several times but none of them were answered. You were freacking out like mad. Luckily, your parents weren't at home.

You didn't want to imagine what's with your best friend, but only the worst scenarios were popping out in your mind.

Suddenly, you heard a knock on your window, you sighed with relief knowing who it was, but it wasn't the time to relax.

You opened the window letting Parker in. Your eyes widened at the sight of Peter, he was standing near your bed with large spots of blood on his suit and mask in his hand while other was holding his bleeding side; bruises and scratches all over his face.

– Hey, – Peter cracked a smile.

– Oh my God, Peter! – you whined. – Lay on bed, I'm gonna take first aid kit, – you said heading to bathroom.

When you returned you found Peter lying on your bed shirtless. You ran up to him, took cotton pad out of it, pierced it in alcohol and started to clean up his wounds. He groaned and hissed every time cotton touched wounds and you shhed to calm him down. But, you guessed, it wasn't much help.

From time to time you glanced at your friend. The expression on his face was full of pain: eyes shut tight, bottom lip between teeth preventing from screaming. You couldn't look at him in this state; you wanted to take this pain away from him or, at least, share it, to somehow relieve his anguish.

When you finished with wounds on his upper body you realized that he needed stitches.

– Peter, you need stitches, we have to call an ambulance, I won't manage with them by myself.

– No, you can do it, – Parker grabbed your hand. – I believe in you.

– Peter...

– Y/N, please...

– Ok, – you sighed.

You took needle and threads. As you were about to start your hands were shaking. Peter noticed it and took your free hand in his you looked up at him, his eyes was full of softness despite the pain he felt.

– Everything will be ok, go, – he whispered.

You took a deep breath and began. In short pauses Peter caressed your shoulder, but the only who must comfort was you, not him. You were afraid to breathe while stitching him. You didn't want to hurt him more.

When you're done, you went to his face. Good, it needed just cleaning up. Whole process Parker was watching you, your concentrated face, the tip of tongue between your lips, tears in the corners of your eyes.

Tears. It broke his heart seeing them. At first, he didn't want to come at your place, he knew how you'd react, but there was no choice. And now he was watching the most important person, after May, almost crying. It was way painful than any punch he had gotten today. But there was one more reason he had come here.

You felt his gaze on your face. It was driving you crazy. He was staring at you with so much adoration, that you thought for a second your feelings were mutual. Soon you shook this thought off, no way Peter Parker felt the same to you as you to him. He always was kind, gentle and caring, but this meant nothing. It's the way all friends acted around each other.