Marvel Imagines (Requests open!)

Peter Parker: Blood on His Hands

May 14 2020

Title: Blood in His Hands
Character: Peter Parker, in and out of costume
Spoilers/tw: honestly, no. until new content comes out/my new comic books come, I doubt there'll be any spoilers. For triggers, there's some blood and talk of death, not too major but tread lightly, don't hurt yourselves <3

hey guys! hope your Thursday is going good! I wrote this Peter one a while ago but I just found it again and I feel like you guys might like it. This one is a bit angsty, but I think it's up to par. So, I'm thinking of doing a qotd now, just to get to know you guys. Is that something you'd be interested in? And if so, here's today's: which of Tony's AIs is your favorite and why?
I love you guys,
Syd.
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The pacing that you'd partook in for hours finally came to an end when the door slammed shut. Peter must have finally been home.

The clock read 3:01 am. Took him long enough.

You could guess from the sound of his footsteps that he was irritated, though. The steps slowly made their way closer to you, Peter opening the door and immediately tumbling to his knees.

You kneeled at his side, gently turning his head to face you. "Peter? Are you okay?"

He didn't say anything, instead turning his head to focus on his shaking hands. You, too, looked down at them and immediately recoiled from him. The gloves of the Spider-man suit had been completely taken off, revealing Peter's hands—and they were covered in blood.

"Stay here, I—I'm—" you weren't sure what you were going to do, really. While you tried to work out a plan, you rushed to the kitchen and grabbed a cloth and paper towel, before returning to his side.

You took one of his shaking hands by the wrist and began to clean up the blood with the paper towel. When you thought it was sufficient, you wiped the remaining blood with the cloth.

You finished off on his second hand, "how are you doing?"

He still looked terrified. Whatever had happened tonight, whatever he'd experienced or done, it would scar him for life.

You finished discarding the cloths and made your back to Peter's messy bedroom. You'd grown used to it, being his best friend and all. In fact, there were many long nights that you spent cleaning it.

"Peter," you helped him off the floor and onto his bed before rummaging in his drawers to find him clean clothes. "Peter, I need you to tell me what happened tonight."

You'd just started to give up on finding an answer when Peter shakily spoke from behind you. "I couldn't save him..."

You whipped your head around, dropping his clothes onto the bed. "Who, Pete?"

"I messed up," he sobbed.

You pulled him to your chest, trying to calm him down. You stroked his hair, trying to coax him into telling him more so that you could help him. Regardless, you vowed to be by his side.

That was two years ago. A lot can change in two years—Peter and you now shared your own apartment, Peter got his dream job at Stark Industries, and you had taken up a crime fighting persona.

The two of you worked well together, side by side. Whether as heroes or as roommates. Everything was going smoothly.

Until it wasn't.

He shot first, all you did was deflect it. Deflect it straight back into him, killing him almost instantly.

You slid to him on your knees, pressing your hands to the wound to slow the bleeding. "Stay with me, man! Stay with me!"

You found yourself wishing Peter was here, that he didn't have that meeting with the Avengers tonight. He wouldn't have let this happen—he was so much better than you at the whole 'hero' thing.

"I'm—sorry—" the man choked out causing black blood to leak down his lips.

You sobbed as you felt the pulse beneath your fingers die. "No," you screamed. He didn't deserve this, this man was only stealing from the bank to support his family. "Please don't go!"

He had shot the bullet but you were the one who put it straight into him. He was barely even a supervillain—just someone that could foresee the future. You took an innocent life, and there was blood on your hands.

You rushed to the Avengers Mansion through back alleys to avoid being seen. Collapsing on their doorstep, you barely had time to reach for the bell.

"Y/n?" Janet Van Dyne questioned but once she saw the state you were in, called for help. "Peter!"

Peter held your shaking hands in his, as you did years prior. "Oh, n/n," he muttered and helped you up. He picked you up in his arms and turned back to the Avengers, "I'm going to have to cut this meeting short."

"I'm sorry, Pete," you whispered into the red fabric of his suit, "so sorry."

He rubbed your head as he made his way through New York, back to the apartment. "Don't worry, I'm gonna make this right."

Peter unlocked the window and stepped in. He kissed the top of your head before he set you down on his bed and went to retrieve something.

"Give me your hands," he held up a cloth. He grabbed your shaking wrist as gently as possible and started to dab at it. Immediately, he got to work on wiping the blood off, stopping only to reassure you. "Hey, it's okay. It's over now. No need to cry—I remember my first kill, too."

Your eyes fixed on his. You finally realized what had happened all those years ago—Peter had accidentally taken someone's life, just as you had. You felt the weight on your shoulders lift.

"I didn't mean to," you took a deep breath to avoid breaking down. "He shot at me, and—and I deflected it, but it went straight for him...I tried to keep him going but it was no use."

Peter got up to discard the cloth. He settled in front of you and placed his hands on your thighs, staring right at you. "It's over now, y/n. You never have to talk about it again if you don't want."

"You're so good to me."

"That's because you," he pet your face, forcing a blush on your cheeks, "are worth being good to."

That took you aback. Peter Parker was many things but smooth was not one of them.

You found yourself leaning in. You flicked your eyes up to look at him, "is this okay?"

Peter answered by pressing his lips to yours. He slowly moved so that you were both in his bed before he pulled you on top of him.

You loosened the tangle that your fingers had took up in his hair and pulled back. "Does this mean—"

"It does," he nodded and pet your hair.

His hand automatically traced your waist while you laid on his chest, bloody hands and gruesome murders forgotten for the moment.