Spider-Man Imagines I

It's Magical | Peter Parker [TH]

"I'm bored," you declared, scowling. You looked over at your best friend, prompting him to save you.

"How?" Peter asked, shoving popcorn into his mouth, eyes glued to the TV screen where Revenge of the Sith was playing. He gestured to it with a hand full of popcorn. "You're watching easily one of the best Star Wars films made so far."

"Peter," you whined, throwing your arms up and dropping them like a toddler. "We've seen this movie a dozen times already! And if you really cared about entertaining me at all, you would have turned on Rogue One!"

He rolled his eyes and reached over, hitting pause on the remote. The movie stopped, lightsabers freezing mid hit. "Okay, jeez," he said. "We can watch Rogue One."

"No," you said, grabbing his wrist before he could get up. "Let's go outside."

"Are you kidding? It's freezing!"

"So? Peter, the park will be practically empty and we'll have it all to ourselves, plus we can go out to eat pizza! I'll buy. Just please come with me."

He groaned, dropping his head back. Truth was, life as Spider-Man had been hectic. Mr. Stark believed only the worst was coming and they should all be ready, but Peter had no idea what the worst was or how to be ready. He had looked forward to a nice, relaxing movie day with you, his best friend and crush, since he had no idea how many days Peter Parker had left before leaving to fight a war he may never come back from.

You sighed. "Fine, I'll go on my own! But if I'm kidnapped, it's on you, Spider-Man." You slid towards the end of the sofa and snatched your shoes. Peter touched your arm, pointing as his own shoes. You smirked as you grabbed them and tossed them to him.

"Just don't joke about that again," he said seriously. As Spider-Man, he did everything in his power to ensure your safety in particular. And maybe, he thought, that job was on Peter Parker's shoulders as well.

"I was just joking," you scoffed. He ignored you, slipping on his shoes quietly. You elbowed him. "Hey. I'm sorry."

He turned his head, big brown eyes blinking at you. You frowned, your lips parting to ask what you always did when he was sad. It was the same when Ben died, the same when Mr. Stark took away his suit.

"Peter, what's going on with you?"

He leaned in, arms snaking around your torso, crushing you against him. He buried his face in your hair and held on tight, unwilling to let you go.

Your hands went to his back and gingerly laid there. "Peter, you're starting to scare me."

"I just need you to be okay," he breathed.

"I am okay."

"I know," he said. He gave you one quick squeeze and pulled back, smiling softly. He tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear, prompting a smile out of you. "I know."

"Are you okay?" you asked.

"I'm fine," he said. He stood up and held out his hand. "Come on, let's go play outside."

You laughed like a kid, feeling giddy as you slid your fingers between his and stood up off the couch.

Once you both were bundled up in layers, you walked outside, made the trip to Central Park, and started a walk in the grey, blustery evening.

"You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?" you asked, a couple of steps behind Peter, who was rushing ahead to slide on patches of ice like he was skating.

His shoes skidded across the ice, heels digging into the ground. He stopped, planting his feet firmly and turned to glance at you. "Of course."

"Are you lying to me?" you asked.

"No," he said. "Why do you look so worried?"

"Because... I don't know," you admitted. "I just... sometimes the things you say, the way you react... it makes me think you're dying or something. And I can't lose you."

He sighed. "I'm sorry, ___," he said. "I don't mean to worry you, but I'll be okay."

You smiled at him, only to have your boot step on a sheet of ice. You gasped as your feet slid forward and the rest of you remained put, arms coming out of your pockets to flail.

Peter launched forward to catch you, hands on your elbows, chest pushing against your side. He helped stand you up. "Anyway, it's me that should worry about you. If you're not careful, you may just break all the bones in your body simply by walking."

You laughed. "Yeah, you're right."

You both walked on, Peter a little closer now, shoulder nudging yours every now and then. You stared at your feet to make sure you didn't walk directly on a patch of ice. Then a snowflake fluttered into your vision.

Excitedly, you glanced up, stopping fast, gasping. Peter looked alarmed as his head snapped around to see what you were gawking at. It didn't take long for him to notice the chunky snowflakes gently catching the breeze.

"It's magical," you said, beaming.

You pulled out your phone and snapped pictures of the trees, then a picture of Peter grinning at you, snow in his hair and all, and then a selfie of both of you together, squinting against the flakes.

"I'm so posting these," you said, scrolling through the pictures.

He grinned at you, unable to look away from the chunks of white that got caught in your hair and eyelashes. It somehow made you prettier, which he assumed to be impossible.

You finished posting the picture and looked up to see him looking. You gave him a weird look. "What? Is my face frostbitten or something?"

"No," he said, blushing, "you have snow in your hair and it's pretty."

You ducked your head, grinning, blushing, and found his hand. He looked at you fondly as you walked on, head down, head leaning against his shoulder.

Peter felt beyond happy. No matter what happened in the future, he could deal with it, because he had this moment with the best girl he knew, and this moment was enough.