Spider-Man Imagines I

I'm Dreaming | Flash Thompson [TR]

Flash felt, for the first time since he was a young kid, that he could really enjoy Christmas. When he matured enough to see how screwed up his family really was, how they stood out from the families on the Christmas movies he watched alone on TV, he stopped liking the holiday.

When he was nine, his father got drunk off of holiday alcohol from a party and fought with his mom. His mom cried over an unfinished tray of cookies, flour all over her clothes, tears stains on her cheeks. Flash went to bed without putting out any cookies for Santa like he always did, and when he woke up, there weren't gifts for him, just an early wake up and kiss on the head from his mom as she left their apartment to stay with her sister for a week, leaving him behind with his hungover father.

He was bitter at even the thought of the holiday before you came around. You, who he had fallen in love with so quickly, who he was sure he would lay his life down for, who he strived to do better for each and every day, brought him joy in the holiday once again.

You liked to bring him Christmas cookies shaped like bells and candy canes and wear red sweaters to school. You told him the story of the three wise men following that bright star to find the tiny newborn king in the manger. You kissed him and told him it was okay to be upset at Christmas, it was okay if he asked you to back off, it was okay if he didn't want to celebrate.

But he saw and felt your joy and was hooked on it. He wanted to bring you that same kind of happiness, and inviting you over to decorate his home in Christmas decorations was the way to do it.

So he heaved a giant dusty box up the basement steps. The minute it dropped against the floor, you squealed, practically launching forward to open the flaps and dig in.

Flash smiled fondly, his heart only aching slightly as you pulled out a bag of his mom's cookie cutters. You grinned at them, then set them aside, pulling out a wreath and a small box of ornament hooks.

"Oh my gosh, babe, this stuff is awesome," you gushed, pulling out a snowflake shaped candle holder.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"And so dusty," you added. "You really haven't decorated in years, have you?"

He shook his head.

You sat back, looking sympathetic. "Baby, we don't have to decorate," you said.

"I want to," he said.

"Flash-"

"___, I-" He grabbed your hand and looked down, cupping both of his palms around it. "Look, I'm not gonna be perfect, okay? I'm not going to enjoy every moment of this, but... with you, I finally feel like Christmas isn't so bad, ya know? So let's decorate together and all that."

"Okay," you said. You stood up and walked around the box, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him on the mouth. "I'm happy for you, babe."

You put on some Christmas music and Flash got the fake tree up the basement steps, setting it up in the corner of the room close to the front door. While he put it together and fluffed it just as you instructed, you unraveled the lights.

Together, you both weaved the wires through the branches of the tree. You plugged it in and the tree lit up red and blue and orange and green, flickering and shining, and you stepped back to grin.

Flash hadn't seen a tree like that in nearly ten years. His lips parted and his eyes widened, glistened with tears as he remembered the feeling of his mom's hands against his, guiding his palms towards a branch to hook an ornament. He felt his heart squeeze.

You watched him, overcome by the love you had for the boy, and grabbed his hand. He held it tightly, partly aware of your grin and the sound of White Christmas playing.

You let go of him and went to grab two ornaments. You plucked two shiny silver orbs from the box and handed one to Flash, who smiled at you before you both reached up and placed the ornaments branches apart.

Two hours and three boxes of decorations later, you and Flash collapsed against the sofa, exhausted but pleased with how festive the living room looked.

"You know what I just realized?" he asked.

"What?"

"We have to take all this stuff down in, like, three weeks," he said. He turned his head towards you and shook his head. "That sucks."

You giggled, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Yeah," you agreed, "that part isn't fun. So just enjoy this moment of peace and Christmas decorations while you can."

"Peace? ___, honey, we have a whole box of outside decorations to put up," Flash said.

You scowled. You really didn't want to stand outside and freeze while Flash hung lights from the gutters. You didn't want to shove lawn ornaments into the layers of ice and snow while the wind threatened to blow you away.

"Uh..." You shook your head. "Let's just stay in and attempt to make some hot chocolate from scratch."

"Sounds good to me," Flash said.

He looked up countless recipes to find the best while you raided the cabinets for ingredients. You found everything you needed and even two cute mugs to use when it was all done.

The smell of chocolate soon filled the kitchen as you and Flash stood in front of the stove, melting bars of it in a pot on the stovetop. He read aloud all the extra stuff to put in to make it extra good.

"Cinnamon," he said, "ooh! And vanilla! Wait, can we add extra vanilla?"

"I think we're gonna over due it on sweetness," you said, as you added the tiniest bit splash extra of vanilla - just to see that grin of happiness on your boyfriend.

"You think?" he asked, but he sounded like he didn't care.

The chocolate melted and finished, and you spooned the milky brown liquid into mugs while Flash grabbed marshmallows and dropped them into the cups with a plop. You both grabbed one and sat down on the couch again, too eager to wait for the drink to cool.

You both sipped, burning your tongues but humming with delight as the sweetness melted across your tongue, sticky marshmallow on your lips.

"This is the best, babe," Flash said.

"Yeah, our recipe isn't so bad, huh?" You licked marshmallow off your top lip.

"I mostly meant this," he said, and he grabbed your hand. "Thank you for all of this."

You turned your head and smiled sweetly. "Aw, you're such sap, baby. You're welcome." You leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, the sound of I'll Be Home For Christmas making the atmosphere even more cozy.