Tom Holland & Peter Parker Imagines & Preferences (book 2)

Kiss and makeup

YOU STORMED AFTER PETER, violently gesturing with your hands as you yelled, "Peter, what the hell! What the actual hell. That-that stupid fucking kamikaze mission of yours almost got you killed, and you're telling me I need to chill out? Chill out?! What the hell!"

"Y/N, we go over this all the time!" Peter countered, halting in his tracks when he reached the lab. "I'm Spider-Man. Okay? I have people who I need to keep safe. My aunt, my friends, you. I thought you of all people would understand what it's like, but you don't! You want to coddle me and treat me like a kid, but—"

"You are a kid, Peter! You're sixteen fucking years old! You're not an adult which means you're still a child," you lowered your voice, your tone still seething with anger. "And when Spider-Man gets himself killed, he won't be able to protect the people he loves. So stop acting like a dumbass and stop lying to me about your intentions."

With that, you sulked out of the lab with your arms folded firmly across your chest. You were practically fuming with rage, your hands trembling and bittersweet tears forming in your eyes. Arguing with Peter rained on your parade, and you never enjoyed it, especially with how frequent it was becoming. Yet, of course, it wouldn't really be a true relationship if you didn't have a few disagreements now and again. Seemingly, you always argued about the most ridiculous things, but by the end of those predicaments, you would be laughing and kissing, apologizing profusely for being so pointlessly upset with another. This one wasn't like the rest.

It was mostly due to the pressures of Peter's Spider-Man responsibilities becoming vaster and you being the daughter of a wealthy, billionaire-genius who happened to be Iron Man. Peter's safety was something you would constantly fret about next to your father's. It would drive you absolutely crazy how careless he could be sometimes. It was like he didn't think about the consequences of his actions. There had been too many close calls for your liking lately.

"Woah, Y/N. You're practically radiating teenage angst right now. You know that gets me nervous," Tony stopped his daughter in the hall, placing his hands on her shoulders. He rubbed them comfortingly through the material of her blouse. "Why the sour face, kiddo? Talk to me."

You huffed, dragging your hands across your eyes. "Just another fight with Peter."

Tony frowned. "Sorry, sweetheart. You guys will work it out. As much as I despise the fact you're snogging my prodigy, I still love you. You want me to talk to him?" He ran a hand down the length of your hair, tucking it snugly behind your pierced ear.

You shrugged. "I don't care. I'm just tired of him always putting a very realistic image on the whole 'self-sacrifice' aspect of the job. His skull is too thick sometimes for me to get through to him. It's whatever. I just need something to eat."

***

A few hours later, Peter was fiddling around in the kitchen, focused on the marble pattern of the countertop rather than his Chemistry homework. He couldn't stop thinking about you and the fight that you had. Lately, it seemed like you'd been arguing about everything. He knew that fights were inevitable when it came to the fundamentals of relationships, but he loved you. He didn't want to fight with you. He didn't want to break up with you. He didn't want to lose you. Ever.

Tony meandered in a couple minutes later, cracking open the fridge to whip out some cold pizza. He noticed Peter and the melancholy gleam in his eyes.

"Hey, Pete. What's wrong?" Tony asked, biting into the cold piece.

Peter shrugged, dismissing his feelings. "Nothing. Y/N and I just got into a fight."

"Yeah, it seems like fighting is the only thing you two do nowadays. I can hardly go back down to the lab anymore without you guys having a screaming match," he responded, watching the boy's sloppy posture deteriorate even further.