Peter Parker Imagines 🕷

Lethal Love Part 2

He sat, and sat, and sat. The cold air didn't bother him as it nipped at his skin, the noise around him was just a dull echo. All he was concentrating on was the image replaying in his head of you leaving him alone on the patio. He re-imagined it so many times, each one consisting of him chasing after you as soon as you left, but it was all in his head.
Peter was hardly present during classes, he ridiculed himself for letting his feelings get the best of him so badly. He couldn't help it, you were there, everywhere he went,
"Are you ever going to tell me how it went with y/n the other night?" Ned asked his friend, as they walked the streets of Queens,
"I don't really feel like talking about it," Peter told him,
"You haven't mentioned her once since that day, you've been so mopey, and every time she sees you, she turns and walks the other way. What is going on?"
Peter sighed, shaking his head, "I didn't end up telling her how I feel, instead, I told her that I was spider-man," he whispered the last part.
Ned's eyes widened, "You mean you hadn't told her that either?"
"Shh-shh! Not until that night. I always thought that I'd tell her once we were together. Or never, never was a safer option for her,"
"She's your best friend, there was no way you could've kept it from her forever,"
Peter formed a thin line with his lips as his frustration flooded back, "I just want to talk to her again, be in the same room, ask her how her day went,"
You crossed your arms over your chest attempting to gather more warmth underneath your hoodie as you made your trek home. The late evening breeze began picking up more than you anticipated when you made your way to the library. The walk in the dark has never bothered you, you've done it many times before, but this time was different.
This time your thoughts wondered to Peter, and if he was sitting on a rooftop, watching over head as his alter ego.
Guilt sat heavy in your heart thinking back to how you left him so abruptly when he confessed his secret. But you were hurt, and confused. How could your very own best friend keep something so big from you so easily? Is there anything else he's keeping from you?
"Maybe I'm overreacting," you realized, mumbling into the fabric of your sweater,
"He's still a little shit,"
You slowed your pace as three men several meters ahead of you, caught your attention. You moved closer to the side of building where the shadows were cast heavier as you observed their interaction.
"I told you, you'll get the tech when it's ready, it's not ready yet," one of them spoke sternly to the others who flanked him on both sides, keeping him between them and a building. He stood shorter than the men in front of him, though his stance didn't seem to indicate that he wasn't intimidated by them.
"You had a deadline, and you didn't follow through. You don't get to run off scot-free, Gage" the brooding man shoved 'Gage" by the shoulder, sending him back against the brick wall. The third man, who has remained silent, reached in his jacket and pulled out a sleek black object that your mind quickly identified as a hand gun.
Sure it could've been something else, and it was just your paranoia taking over your mind, but you weren't interested in sticking around to find out.
You skidded off back down the street, heart beating out of your rib cage,
"Hey!"
Stupidly enough, you quickly shot a glance over your shoulder to see you had caught the attention of the three men,
"Stop her," one of them barked to the man with the gun.
Peter landed steadily, kicking up dirt and dust built up on the roof before pulling his mask off and crouching near the edge. Patrol had been quiet for the first time in a couple of days, which he didn't mind. It meant no one was in danger or getting hurt.
He stood up, looking down at the mask in his hands, ready to put it back on and head home, but the hair standing up on the back of his neck stopped him abruptly. His breathing picked up as he felt pricking underneath his skin, his muscles contracting. His senses had never picked up like this before, so he dreaded whatever was about to happen.
Two gun shots sounded off, one after another. A bullet whizzed pasted your shoulder, ringing off a street lamp, encouraging you to run faster around the corner. Your eyes ran wild looking for anything that you could behind or an alley way that could bring you out on a different street.
With no luck, you look over your shoulder once more in time to see the man chasing after you being kicked over by a flying blue and red figure,
"Spider-man," you whispered, coming to a stop to watch the scene unfold.
He shot a web, trapping the weapon to the ground. The man chasing you staggered to his feet groaning loudly. Before he could take another step Spider-Man webbed him securely to the wall behind him.
You stood panting, the cold air tickling your throat. You kept your eyes on Spider-Man as he turned to you and matched your silence. He looked you up and down as best he could from his distance, and relaxed when he noticed you weren't showing any signs of taking a bullet,
"Are you alright?" he finally asked.
You nodded your head, "There's, there's two more guys around the corner," you told him.
Peter looked at the corner of the street behind him and back to you, weighing out his options of staying with you and catching any other bad guys,
"Right, um, stay here,"
As he disappeared behind the buildings, you ran home.
Your room was dark, the only sound being your breathing as you slumped against your closed door. You felt surprisingly calm for someone who's just been shot at, twice in fact. This lead you to wonder if Peter's ever been in the line of fire, or suffered from significant injuries. You hated the thought of him in pain and not being able to help him through it.
A dark figure appeared in your window and gripped the bottom that was left open a crack, pulled it open the rest of the way,
"For the love of god just take me, I give up," you said dramatically, throwing your hands in the air. Is there anything else that could happen tonight?
"It's just me," Peter said ripping his mask off as he awkwardly made it in to your room,
"Look, I really need to talk to you," he began,
"Peter," you interrupted him,
"I've been thinking about the other night and what I said, and, and what I meant to say-"
"Pete,"
"I didn't mean to tell you about Spider-Man, well I was gonna tell you soon but what I really wanted to say was-"
"Peter it's okay," you stopped him, "It's alright, I understand,"
He batted his brown doe eyes at you, keeping his distance,
"No, it wasn't just that y/n. I like you, like a lot, way more than normal friends like each other," he paused,
"I love you, y/n,"
He crept closer to you, in slow, quiet baby steps, as if anything else would send you running off and never acknowledge him again. He wrung his mask tight between his fingers, trying to ease his nerves. 
You waited silently and impatiently, like he was oxygen, and you were about to break the surface of the deepest ocean. Toes curling with anticipation, every step made you suddenly crave him more.
The air around each of you was thick, almost suffocating as you both waited, waited to see if this exhilarating, fuzzy feeling was just a hoax, a faulty truth. But when Peter caught the glisten in your eyes that showed more than just the warm inviting of your irises, his heart caught a fever, warming his veins and sending shivers to his spine. He couldn't help but smile. It's real.
You closed the distance between you, embracing him and catching his soft lips with yours.
In that moment, Peter forgot how to breath. His chested ached with happiness and relief as he held you as close as he could.
You slowly broke the kiss, but didn't pull away as you rested your forehead against his,
"Thank god," he whispered, making you both chuckle.