Spider-Man Imagines I

Ring In The Season | Peter Parker [TH]

Originally, Peter thought it would be a pretty good idea to have his two closest friends over for movies and pizza, but then May found out he liked the only girl in his friend group, and then suddenly planned to decorate the apartment for Christmas, and now he was standing in the middle of their living room, tray of hot cocoa in his hands, while May answered the door.

"Hi, guys!" she greeted, stepping aside and letting them come in. As they shed their coats and boots and hats, she pressed her hands together in front of her chest. "We have a little change in plans here - we are going to decorate for Christmas!"

Ned pulled his scarf off his neck. "No pizza?"

"No, but there's hot cocoa," she said, adjusting her glasses.

Ned beamed. "I love hot cocoa!"

"Oh, good!" she said. "___?"

Peter finally looked at you and regretted it as soon as he did. You pulled your beanie off of your head, hair rising off of your head in static. His heart beat louder than anything in the room because you were just so pretty.

"Yeah, I love hot cocoa," you said. Your eyes met Peter's and you beamed. He smiled, eyes probably hazy as everything but you disappeared. You were here, you were real, you were his best friend, and all of that seemed very unreal.

Aunt May ran to Peter and grabbed two mugs of cocoa. She handed them out to his friends and everyone sat on the couches, sipping their drinks and telling Aunt May his wonderful they were (even though Peter knew she just poured a packet of cocoa mix in some boiling water). It was warm and cozy, and your arm was touching his as you lifted your mug to your lips.

"It'll be so nice to have you all to help us decorate," May said. She placed her hand on her heart. "Ben and I used to spend hours on this place. Peter, too, of course."

You smiled sadly, leaning against Peter as a form of silent support. This was his second Christmas without him. The pain was still very much real, and not as dull as it had been the previous year, when there was still shock.

"I love to decorate," you said happily. "But please tell me Peter has some handmade ornaments that kids make in elementary school. Like, is there a snowman made of clay holding a picture of him?"

Aunt May grinned. "Actually, yes-"

Peter gave them both pained looks. "We don't really have to do this-"

Aunt May got up, hushing her nephew. She disappeared into a stack of dusty cardboard boxes and then reappeared with two ornaments hanging off of her fingers.

"Not a snowman, but a Santa," she laughed, handing you a clump of pink and red clay, messily painted and looking like the worst Santa Clause ever made. "And here's a snowflake he cut out in first grade with a picture of himself in it!"

You took the second ornament from her and giggled. "Oh, Peter, you don't have teeth!"

He burned red. "Okay, I think that's enough-"

"Oh, Peter, stop," you said, elbowing him away as he tried to take the ornament from you. "You're still cute, even if you look like a pumpkin."

His mouth opened in shock. His head jerked around to look at May, who winked and gave him a knowing smile.

From that moment, the four ditched their empty mugs of cocoa and put up the tree. Ned and Peter wrapped it in lights while you and May hung ornaments. When you placed the picture of six year old Peter on the tree, you grinned at him, and he blushed.

Aunt May turned on one of her favorite Christmas CDs. Everyone danced with her during Rocking Around the Christmas Tree and Jingle Bell Rock.

When Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas played, May grabbed Ned and asked him to dance. He agreed, and they easily began to sway, laughing and joking, acting like everything was normal.

Peter was starting to break out into a sweat. Aunt May looked at him and gave him a look that said, go on and dance, winked again, and he turned red.

"Do you w-wanna, um-" He gestured to Ned and May and flailed his hand, making you snicker. "Um, uh, dance?"

You laughed. "Yeah, sure."

You took a step forward.

He did, too.

His hands found your waist and yours found his shoulders and your chest bumped his, your feet stepping on his, your lips mumbling apologies, and he smiled softly, laughed nervously, blushed deeply.

And then you swayed, with your eyes looking up into his and his looking down into yours. It was nothing more than awkward side steps, but it felt like a gentle ballroom dance, like one of the background characters during the dance scene of Cinderella.

You looked so happy and comfortable, and Peter grew confident. If he was just himself, no matter how awkward that meant he was to be, you would be fine. He would be fine.

"I like you," he admitted.

You grinned. "I was just hoping that you would say that."

"You were?"

"Are you kidding? It's all I've ever wanted," you laughed.

"Oh, good. 'Cause Aunt May did this all because she knew-"

You looked around, at the lights wrapped around the tree and the decorations and boxes surround everyone. The entire room felt warm and bright - it felt like Christmas.

"Ah. Well, I'm glad she did," you said, bringing your arms around his neck. Your eyes met his again.

"Yeah, me too," he admitted.

You laid your head on his chest, and he felt himself swell with love. He looked to May for reassurance and saw her grin and give him a thumbs up. Then she jerked her head to the right, where a tiny box labeled MISTLETOE in black Sharpie sat.

Peter understood what she meant. He shook his head quickly. He didn't been any more help. This right here was perfect enough; he wouldn't trade this moment for the world. For the first time in a long time, Christmas felt right.

He dropped his head down to rest his cheek against your hair.