Spider-Man Imagines I

Not When I've Got You | Peter Parker [TH]

"Where is he? Is he okay?" you screamed at your dad, throwing yourself forward.

Your dad, Tony Stark, was staring in front of a holographic screen. He had a camera connected to Peter's suit and knew that he was there when that thing appeared in the sky.

"Dad!" you screeched, clutching his arm. He turned his head and blinked at you, eyes full of deep concern and stress. "Dad, please tell me what is happening!"

"He's trying to stop it," he said, his voice slightly shaky.

Your breathing quickened. You grabbed one of the earpieces your dad made and put it in. It came to life with a series of beeps and you heard the crackling, whooshing sounds of the wind on Peter's side. On the screen, he grasped the hunk of metal and shook with it.

"Peter!" you cried out.

His head turned on he screen. "___?"

"Peter Parker, can you hear me?" you screamed. "Stop what you're doing! You're going to get yourself killed!"

Your dad leaned in, putting a hand on your shoulder. "Hey, kid, this is dangerous."

"I know."

"You could get killed, and I don't want-"

"I know what can happen, Mr. Stark," Peter said, yelling over the roaring wind. "I have to do this. I have to."

"Peter, please don't!" you cried out. "I can't lose you!"

"I have to, ___," he said. "I-I'll be okay."

"Pete-"

Your dad pulled you away from the screens. "You can do this, kid. Hold on tight."

"Dad!" you screamed. "No! He's getting too high, he - he can get killed up there on his own!"

Your dad looked at you sadly. "This kid is the only chance we have right now. I'm sorry, sweetheart."

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. "You can't do this, Daddy. You can't risk his life like it's nothing."

"I'm not risking his life, ___," he said, putting his hands on your shoulders. "I have the same faith in him that I have in you. He can do this."

You stared at him, lips pressing together, head shaking, eyes burning. You couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't capable of surviving this.

Anything could happen. He could fall to his death. He could run out of air. Something could go wrong or kill him and you wouldn't even be able to say goodbye-

Not that you ever wanted to say goodbye, especially now. He was too young and you were too young and there was so much you both wanted to do together and haven't yet-

"___?" his alarmed voice said, breaking through transmission. You turned to the screens and watched his body violently shake against the metal. He gasped out in pain. "___, babe-"

"I'm here!" you half shouted.

"I-" He stopped, grunted, and lifted his head towards the sky. "I'm sorry. I love you."

"Wha-"

He reached up with one hand, screaming against the pain of having to hold on with only five fingers. He grabbed the top of his mask and yanked it off of his head, cutting off the call with you and your dad. You yelled out but it was too late. He couldn't hear you, you couldn't hear him. His mask was fluttering down, down, down towards the Earth. He was gasping like it was hard to breathe and then it was over.

"Peter?" you asked softly, the screens cutting to static and then to black. "P-Peter... Peter!"

He was gone.

You couldn't see or hear him.

Was he safe? Was he alive?

You kept screaming for him even though you knew he couldn't hear it.

You screamed until your head was pounding and your lungs were aching. You felt your father's arms circle around you and help you to the floor.

You couldn't stop screaming.

...

When you woke up, you were in your bed. You sat up, memories flooding you almost instantly. Your dad was there, as he always was when you needed him. He hushed you gently and pushed you against the pillows, pulling your blanket up higher.

"You started to have a panic attack," he said, frowning. He got them, too. "Are you okay, honey?"

You nodded. "I think so."

He nodded too and found your hand under the blankets. He gave it a gentle squeeze and before you could ask, gave you the answer to the question that was on the tip of your tongue. "Peter is here," he said. "He stopped it. It being... whatever it was." He looked at the ceiling and sighed.

"He's okay?" you asked in a whisper.

He nodded. "And he's asking for you. Well - begging is a better way to put it. I told him to let you rest for a while but he's beyond annoying. He's just out there." He jerked his thumb to the cracked door. "Probably listening to our conversations..." He rolled his eyes. "Anyway, honey." He paused, so long that you started to worry. A new wrinkle formed on his forehead and he looked up at you seriously. "There's a war coming. A big one. And I don't know how it's going to end, but... I'm sending you to live with your mom in Ohio for a while."

"No," you whispered.

"I'm not arguing about this one," he said. "This is serious. If it wasn't, I would love to fight and scream and yell and all of that normal daddy-daughter stuff." He grinned and you smiled, too, a little laugh rising out of you. He squeezed your hand again. "But this... this is really serious. I'm sorry, honey."

"It's okay, Dad," you said. "I know you'll beat this. Whatever this is."

He smiled. "That's my girl," he said. He leaned in and kissed your forehead. "I'll send Peter in here to visit."

"Thank you."

He stood up off the bed and walked out. In the doorway, you saw him wave Peter inside and give him a gentle smile and a stern look. Peter hurried inside and almost gasped when he saw you.

"___," he said in relief. He walked over to you and sat on the bed, pulling you into his arms. He just held you for a minute.

"I was so scared for you," you whimpered.

"I made it," he said. "I'll always make it."

"You'd better remember that," you threatened lightly, and then more serious this time, pulling back to look at him: "Peter. There's a war coming."

He nodded. "I know."

"Are you scared?" you whispered.

He shook his head and cupped your face. "Not when I've got you. I wasn't scared up there, either. Not when I heard your voice. I can't be scared." He smiled. "Not when I've got you."