Marvel Imagines

In The Dark | Peter P.

A/N: lol i was definitely in a mood when I was writing this, bear with me

"(Y/N)?" I heard my name being called softly, and then Peter opened my door. The two of us were at Stark Tower. We were both in the middle of watching a movie together an hour ago, but I excused myself when I felt my mood shift. I'd been overcome with this... overwhelming sadness, and I didn't want it to show. So I left, not even making an excuse, and holed up in my room.

I guess he caught on.

"Are you okay? You just... Left." Peter said, and without even turning around, I knew he was still standing in the hallway with the door half closed in front of him.

"Peter, you can come in." I spoke up, and he did just that. It was totally dark in my room; I didn't bother to turn on any lights.

"You never leave in the middle of a movie. Not to mention, you didn't say anything of substance when you left." His voice sounded far away, and I knew that he was now standing just inside the door. "You don't have to tell me anything specific, but tell me what's wrong."

"I don't even know." I whispered, turning to look at him. Even through the darkness, the few lights reflecting through the window illuminated his skin. "I just got really upset. My heart's kind of heavy, honestly, and I want to be alone but I also want you to stay." Peter hesitated, and I heard him take a step forward.

"So what do you want me to do?" He asked, clearly confused. Not that I blame him.

"Sit with me." I replied simply. No strings attached, no heartfelt answer. No tears, which even surprised me. Just a simple request.

He complied, padding over to where I was sitting on the floor and joining me. I was sitting with one leg extended and the other foot flat on the ground, so he sat cross legged.

"Anything else?" Peter asked, but not in a snarky way. He sounded genuinely concerned, as if he really was just asking is there was anything else I wanted him to do.

Instead of replying, I moved to sit a bit closer to him and rested my head on his shoulder. He didn't move away, nor did he say anything, so I didn't know what he was thinking. What I did know was that I heard him sigh lighty, and the hand that hasn't woven itself around my back was now absently messing with my hair. My own finger was tracing patterns on his knee, which was the closest thing to my hand when it felt the need to move.

It took me a few minutes before I registered that our hands were moving in sync; every time I looped my finger over his knee and started a pattern, his finger twirled a strand of my hair twice, slowly. It was a small gesture, most likely unintentional, but its unobtrusive existence made me realize why I wanted Peter to stay.

He didn't do many things involving me with fanfare or noise. He didn't have to. People at the tower were always obsessing over one thing or another- if it wasn't my powers, it was some other unexplainable talent that I had that could be useful. Peter didn't do that, not even when he first met me. He didn't ask what I could do, which would inevitably lead to what I could do for him. Instead, he slowly found out who I was as a person underneath the hero and connected with me.

That's what I loved about Peter- the connection. And I told him so.

"The connection?" He asked, whispering. He didn't need to be quiet, but he and I both seemed to share the respect for the unstable hours of silence during nighttime.

"You didn't connect with the facade. You didn't try and connect to the hero side of me, and I like to think that its because you knew better. You connected with me as a human being, without my suit on." I whispered back, finding that admitting that was surprisingly easy.

"Well of course," Peter said, causing me to pause in my drawing a flower on his knee."You did the same for me."