The White Pallax (Peter Parker x Reader)

XI - The Opposite

You pace back and forth across the living room, gnawing on your thumb nail. Every four seconds your eyes stray back to the TV screen. It's been over an hour, and the news has stopped reporting on the stickup. Peter should be back by now. What if something happened to him? Fuck. Fuck. A myriad of horrible scenarios plague your mind. You take a deep breath. He's fucking Spiderman. He's fine.

But he's also just a kid.

Just as you're considering calling Tony to check up on him, Peter bursts through the door. You can't decide whether to kiss him or kick him. In the end you just throw your arms around him and hug him tighter than you ever have. Hesitantly, he hugs you back.

"God Peter I was so worried about you!" When you pull away, you punch him in the shoulder. "Where were you?!"

He rubs his arm, raising a quizzical eyebrow. "I told you. Had to pick up something for May."

You cross your arms. Annoyance buzzes in your veins. Liar. Just tell me. Tell me and I won't be mad. "Really? Where is it, then?"

"Whoa, what's with the interrogation?" Peter mimics your stance. "Don't you trust me?"

You rolls your eyes and sigh heavily. "Of course I trust you Peter. My issue is whether or not you trust me."

"Yes, Y/N! I trust you more than most people!"

You anger brims, ready to boil over. "So why won't you tell me, then?"

Peter throws his backpack to the chair. It lands with such force the chair moves a little bit. Almost as if he has inhuman strength. "Tell you what?"

Finally, you explode, throwing your hands up in the air. "That you're Spiderman, joder!"

His jaw drops and he stares wide eyed at you before trying to recover, but the pause is too long. It only confirms what you suspected. "What? No- no I'm not that, er him, I'm not-"

"I knew it!" You punch Peter again. "I knew it! Peter you're Spiderman? That's so fucking awesome!"

He does a double take, as if you'd just slapped him in the face. "What? I thought you were mad?"

"I am mad!"

"But you -"

"Just because it's the most amazing thing literally ever, does not mean I'm not angry with you for not telling me!" You concede, a bit confused yourself. But you're going to keep up with the whole fury facade. Keep him on his toes. He needs that every once in a while. Peter Parker, not his alter ego.

"I'm sorry! I didn't want to put you in danger."

You snort, storming over to the kitchen. "I think we're well past that. Association with Tony Stark had me in that boat ages ago."

Hunger gnaws at your stomach as you slam a bowl down on the counter. Being enraged always ended up making you hungry. So you pour your second bowl of cereal for the night. At this rate, you're going to finish off the entire box before midnight. Peter sits down next to you at the table as you angrily chew. Neither of you speak again until you're finished.

"Do you hate me?" He ventures.

That just throws another log onto your fire of anger. "Don't be ridiculous Peter! Quite the opposite!"

A small smile tugs at his lips. God you hate it when he does that. It just melts away all your rage towards him. It hardly seems fair that he can do that. "The opposite?"

Time slows down. You realize what you just said. No going back on it now. No way to smoothly recover from that, not in the emotional state you're in. Suddenly, you don't care that you just got him back. You have to know. And then you make an impulse decision.

You grab Peter's collar and pull him towards you. Sparing no hesitation, you press your lips against his in a hard kiss. In surprise, his lips part. You take the chance to open yours and lock your lips with his even tighter. Your eyes close, savoring the heated moment.

When you break apart, you're still gripping his shirt, your hands balled into fists, bunching the fabric. There's still barely any space between you, and you stare into his eyes. There's so much wonder there. So much joy. Comfort.

"I love you, dumbass," you whisper.

Energy sparks in the tiny gap between you. For an eternal moment, he says nothing. Then he puts a hand on your head and draws you in for another. His fingers tangle through your hair and yours through his in a deep passionate kiss. Your tongue locks with his and you can't help a smile.

Finally, he pulls away. Something like love glints in his eyes. "Te quiero también."

It's terrible pronunciation. But you don't care. He loves you.

A/N - Yo, sorry this one is a bit short! Hope you guys are enjoying this story. A quick note about "joder." It's like my favorite Spanish swearword and generally it means fuck but it can also mean literally anything else. As with pretty much every other swearword. They're all so versatile. I could call you a prick three different ways. God I love Spanish.