Spider-Man Imagines I

Definition of Perfection (Part Four) | Peter Parker [TH]

"Peter Benjamin Parker, I don't even know where to start," May expressed angrily. She was using her hands a lot as she ranted, even though she was driving.

"May," Peter mumbled from the passengers seat as the light turned red.

She hit her brake too hard and smacked both hands on the wheel, huffing at him. She shook her head and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. "I mean, kiddo-" She sighed, stopped, and let her foot off the brake as the light turned green. "You punched Flash Thompson in the face. You shattered his entire nose."

Peter didn't say anything. May was shaking her head.

"I can't even imagine what this will cost," she said.

"I'll cover it all, May," he assured her. She shook her head, refusing to look at him. "I will. I'll use my birthday money and apply for a job at Delmar's. It'll be fine, okay?"

She didn't say anything. For the rest of the ride it was May and Peter and the radio, an eighties station playing softly from the speakers.

When she pulled up to their apartment building and put the car in park, she breathed heavy again. "Okay," she said, turning in her seat towards him. "Let me see your hand."

Peter lifted the ice pack that he didn't really need. His knuckles had heavy bruising, but it would be pretty much gone in a few hours. Still, it had bruised him. He must have really got him. Peter couldn't remember how hard his swing was; he just remembered being mad.

"Oh, kid," she sighed. "Why?"

"Why what?" He put the ice back.

"Why did you hit him? Was he making fun of you?"

"No," he said. "___."

She nodded once. "Ah."

"I'm sorry, May," he mumbled.

She leaned over and kissed his forehead, then climbed out of the car. Peter followed.

He was suspended from school for the rest of the week.

...

You stood next to Ned in the hallway, wringing your hands together.

"Suspended?" you asked. "Are you sure?"

He nodded. "Yup. Suspended for the rest of the week, and next week he has three hours of detention every day."

"Wow," you breathed, looking down at your fingers. You interlaced them and bit your lip.

Peter had punched Flash for you. He had taken up for you after you had fled the cafeteria. You couldn't wrap your head around it. Sure, Pete was your best friend - but he hit someone for you.

"I wish I had seen it," Ned said. He laughed. "I heard Flash cried. Like, full out bawled like a baby!"

You hit his chest. "Ned! This is serious. Peter got in trouble."

"Right, I get that," he said. "But wow, it sounded cool."

You sighed. "Ned..."

"He was protecting you, ___," he said. He gave you a sweet smile. "You should talk to him about it."

He was protecting you.

"I will," you said. "I'll go over to his place after seventh period." The warning bell rang and you walked around Ned to go to your next class.

"Oh - ___?"

You turned, stopping. "Yeah?"

"I would have punched him for you, too," he said. "I would punch any guy for you."

You smiled wide. "Really?"

He nodded.

"Thanks," you said. "I would do the same for you, too."

...

Aunt May answered the door when you knocked. She gave you a tight lipped smile and shook her head.

"Peter can't hang out today," she said. "He's grounded."

"Oh, I figured," you said. "I was wondering if I could talk to him? Just for a second."

"Sure," she said, stepping aside to let you in. "You can put your shoes there. He's in his room." You nodded, said thanks, and walked towards the hall. "And oh, leave the door open, please."

You ducked your head after nodding.

You approached Peter's closed door and knocked three times. From the other side of the door, he said, all muffled and soft, "May, I haven't cleaned yet. I promise I will before bed."

"No," you said. "It's, uh, ___."

A pause. Then, "Come in?"

You opened the door and smiled, seeing Peter laying on his stomach on the bottom bunk of his bed in sweats and an old Midtown t-shirt. He pushed himself up on his knees and sat on the side.

"Hey," he said, eyebrows furrowed.

You stepped in, remembering to leave the door open. You stood next to his dresser awkwardly. "Hi," you said.

"Uh, you can sit," he said, but his desk chair was covered in dirty clothes. "Oh, yikes- you can sit on the bed, actually. I'll get up." He stood up and let you sit down, scratching the back of his head as you looked down at you. "H-How are you? What are you doing here?"

"I'm good," you said. You smiled and nodded. "I'm good. You?"

"Great," he said, smiling. "I built a new computer from, like, nothing today." He gestured to the hunk of old, rusty technology on his desk.

"And yet you didn't clean your room," you teased.

"Ha-ha," he said. He rolled his eyes.

You laughed softly and then went quiet. "Ned told me what happened in the cafeteria."

"Yeah?" He wasn't look at you anymore. He kicked at the floor with his bare foot. "I'm sure it's gone all the way around the school already."

"Oh yeah," you said. You looked down at your hands, which you were wringing again. "Pete, I... thank you. For sticking up for me." His brown eyes looked at you and his chest swelled. "I don't know what I would do without you. And I know I acted a little weird yesterday, and I'm sorry... but you're a great guy, Pete. You're my best friend..."

Peter's smile disappeared and he deflated. He frowned and kicked at the carpet again. He was talking before he could make himself shut up.

"Uh, ___," he said, swallowing thickly, "I-I have something..." He scratched the back of his head again. "Something I gotta say." He looked back at you, and you were staring at him, hands pressed between your thighs, eyebrows pulled together.

And then he said it.