Spider-Man Imagines I

Our Memories | Peter Parker [TH]

Peter Parker currently loathed himself.

He had a whole list of reasons to hate himself, from failing English II to getting in his first big fight with May last week, but the top of it all, the icing on the cake, the cherry and whipped cream and chopped nuts and hot fudge of the sundae, was his huge crush on his best friend.

He was stupidly in love with the girl he had grown up to know. You had been his best friends for years, really. It was hard to believe you'd been hanging out in his bedroom since you were six. And now, with his sixteenth birthday quickly approaching, he had to wonder how long he had been in love with you.

Maybe it was the first time he saw you with makeup on and you looked grown up, even though you were eleven. Maybe it was the first time he held your hand in public and you got all nervous. Maybe it was the first time he saved you, when you and your aunt were trapped under a semi after a car accident.

There were so many times he thought - maybe. Maybe that was the moment you became the entire world, not just part of it.

It was impossible to say, really.

It was three days before a Christmas and he was sitting on your couch, Ned on the floor at his feet, Michelle curled up on the window sill. Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer played on the tv. You were making peppermint tea for everyone.

Peter hadn't been able to stop staring at you. You had your hair pulled up and your face was free of makeup. The sweater you wore was big and made you look soft. He wasn't the kind of guy to pick out the physical things he liked about girls (or the one girl he loved) because he realized that loving someone went so far beyond physical stuff. He loved you for you. It was just a plus that you happened to be breathtakingly gorgeous.

You brought everyone their mugs of tea and then sat down next to Peter, sitting cross legged on the cushion. You smacked your palms against your legs and grinned.

"Present time?" you asked.

"Please," Ned said, already reaching for the wrapped gifts under the tree.

Michelle went first. She tore into three packages (one from you, one from Peter, and one from Ned) and ended up with a spiral-bound sketch book, charcoal pencils, and watercolor paints. Her eyes gleamed even though she didn't really smile.

And you - wow, Peter thought, you beamed wide enough for the three of them.

Ned went next. He tore into a giant package and found a set of Legos that included twelve-thousand Star Wars Legos, the pack including Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia Organa. It was from all three of his friends, and you, Michelle, and Peter each received a giant hug from him.

You were next. You giggled uncontrollably as you opened a box and found a pair of high top boots from Michelle. By the squeal you let out, it was clear you liked them. You got a set of collectable action figures from your favorite movie from Ned (which you loved) and, from Peter, a gift basket filled with everything you loved.

A journal. A set of glitter pens. An action figure of Princess Leia, who he swore you reminded him of. Several bars of your favorite candy. A stuffed dog. A new mug and a pack of hot chocolate and mini marshmallows.

"Peter," you half whispered, "this is the most amazing basket I've ever gotten. Thank you." You set the gift aside and leaned over to wrap your arms around him.

His face was probably red.

"Peter's turn!" you exclaimed.

He smiled as three wrapped gifts were thrust into his hands. He opened one from Michelle - a framed picture of him pouting in detention (he rolled his eyes at that one). From Ned, he got a popcorn bucket filled with three different flavors and a box set of Harry Potter movies.

And from you -

He was so nervous as he tore into the paper -

He caught a glimpse of your giddy face and felt his heart skip a beat -

He was left with a box.

He opened it.

Wow, you were so pretty-

In his hands was a slick black scrapbook. His eyebrows furrowed as he lifted the cover. The crinkling sound of plastic was all he could hear as he saw his name written at the top of the page.

To Peter -

thank you for all the moments we've had.

♡ ____

He turned the page. It was filled with snapshots your parents or May or Ben must have taken when you were young. It was you two in the kiddy pool, floaties on your arms and waists, you two at a pizzeria, crust and cheese stuffed in your cheeks so they puffed out and a string of mozzarella hanging out of his lips, you two hugging one another and grinning, toys scattered around behind you.

The next page was elementary school. Pictures of you and Peter together after school concerts, pictures of you and him after his first band concert, pictures of you on the first day of third and fourth grade.

Then came middle school, with awkward looking pictures of you both at Thanskgiving one year, Peter with glasses and braces, his hair too short and his body too lanky. Pictures of you and him with your arms around one another before a school dance. A picture of you asleep next to him on a towel at the beach.

"You've been quiet," Ned said, leaning close to see. "What is it?"

He turned the book away from him before turning to the final section. His heart skipped a beat as he saw you as how you looked now.

There was a picture of you dressed up for a Christmas party and him wearing a Santa hat, of you and him at his fifteenth birthday party, of you and him in front of a poster on the opening night of Star Wars: The Force Awakens.

Then, there were the pictures you took. A selfie of you and him in the snow, the day there was a blizzard and he got snowed in at your house. A picture of him holding an armful of Doritos in the store, the camera close to your face as you had taken it. The embarrassing pictures of one another taken on Snapchat.

And with all of it, pieces of memories. Packets of red pepper flakes from the pizzeria. Movie ticket stubs. Ribbons from your hair on the night of the dance. Tattoos you'd both gotten out of the gumball machine simply out of boredom.

"Dude, what is it?"

"They're our memories," you said.

Peter looked up from the book. You were watching him nervously, your lip tucked between your rows of teeth.

"Dude-"

Peter moved the scrapbook to the coffee table and his body shot forward eagerly. One hand landed on the back of the couch and the other cupped your face as he dove right in and kissed you.

Ned gasped and Michelle groaned and you kissed back, eyes closing, heart thumping loud enough for Peter to hear.

He kissed you with all of the passion and love he could muster (which was a lot) and then kissed you a little longer after that. He pulled away and looked down at you, I love you threatening to fall out of his lips.

"Whoa," Ned said, "Pete got two presents. A scrapbook and a girlfriend." Michelle smiled.

Peter wanted to hit him and tell him to shut up, but he wanted to kiss you more. And so he did just that.