It’s Complicated
Peter Parker x Reader
Summary: Loving Peter Parker is literally killing you, and if that’s not bad enough, you also have to put up with Spider-Man asking for dating advice during missions.
Contains: throwing up, arguments, hanahaki (but my only understanding of it is from other fanfics so bear with me), reader is an avenger with unspecified powers (I think…I don’t actually remember), rivals to lovers, kind of fake dating, peter is in love with you and you’re in love with peter but you do NOT like that Spider-Menace
@thceseus ignore the fact that it took me like…a month to write this :) but it’s finally done <3
NOT PROOFREAD
It was supposed to be an easy mission. Supposed to be.
Unfortunately, nothing is ever easy when Spider-Man is around. At least, not for you.
Whether it’s webbing up a bad guy right before you can knock them out, rewriting your reports whenever he deems them incoherent, or offering to pick up pizza for team dinners, he’s always trying to upstage you.
His latest crime? Pushing you out the third floor window of an abandoned warehouse, just so he could download a file instead of you.
Honestly, you’d feel bad for the guy and his debilitating need for approval, if he wasn’t such a jerk about it.
“Need a lift?”
You fight the urge to roll your eyes as he lowers himself down beside you. He’s upside down, as always, but still seems to be looking down at you.
“Just go away.” You’re stuck to the wall, a thin web holds your shoulders against it. Stupid spiders and their stupid webs and stupid—
“I’m not leaving you here.”
“Really? You had no problem shoving me out a window.” You huff, wanting nothing more than to smack off that stupid smile that you know he’s hiding under his mask.
He gulps and you fight the urge to stare at the way his throat moves, the imprint of his Adam’s apple bobbing beneath the fabric. His weight shifts as he reaches to rip the webs off you.
“No, wait—”
“Relax, I’m not going to let you fall.” His voice is softer now, dropping the teasing tone it held earlier. Your throat tightens.
Coughing suddenly, your head falls forwards, smacking into his shoulder as he wraps his arm around you.
He’s flipped over now, finally right side up as he holds you. His other hand rubs slow circles on your back, the eyes of his mask narrowing as you continue to cough.
“Are you dying?” The thinly veiled concern in his voice is missed by you as you scoff.
“Ha ha.” You push away slightly, wanting to put as much distance between the two of you as possible. “You wish.”
He freezes, arm tightening around your waist as his voice drops an octave. “I don’t want you to die.”
Your eyebrows shoot up, a dumbfounded grin tugging at your lips. “Yeah, obviously. You’re a superhero, you don’t want anyone to die.”
“That’s not true.” He grumbles, keeping a grip on you as he lowers the both of you to the ground.
“Really?!” You can barely contain your enthusiasm. The Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man wants someone dead? Shocking. Appalling. Intriguing. “Who?”
He pulls away as soon as your feet hit the ground, putting several meters of distance between the two of you as he takes off for the Quinjet.
“C’mon, Spidey! Tell me!” You chase after him.
He grumbles something under his breath as he darts between trees. Unfortunately for him, you’re much faster than he is.
Quickly tackling him to the ground, or at least—that’s what you try to do. Instead, he doesn’t budge as you slam into him, which leaves you clinging to him as he stands frozen in the middle of the clearing.
“Are you guys done? Some of us have jobs to get back to.” Coulson snaps at you, making you lunge away from your former victim, your cheeks warming.
Spider-Man stares at you, lenses wide as you stomp away from him.
“This isn’t over.” You whisper, knocking your shoulder against his as he catches up.
He rubs his neck sheepishly, watching you walk to the back of the ship.
As the jet takes off, his eyes trail back towards you. You’ve fallen asleep, cheek smushed against the side of the seat as you breathe heavily.
Maybe you have asthma.
Not that you’d tell him if you did.
His stomach flips, fingers drumming against his leg as he thinks back to earlier.
He doesn’t think you even realized the way you clung to him outside the building, the way your fingers clenched in his suit. His skin itches where you’d held him, missing the feeling of your warmth against him.
And anyways, it’s not like he wanted to push you out the window, but there was some kind of gas leaking from the vents. He’s immune to most toxins by now, but you—he doesn’t even want to think about it.
Is that why you were coughing? He’ll have to make sure you get checked by medical before going home.
He groans, covering his face as he sinks into the seat.
You’re going to be even more upset with him if he insists you be treated when you’re fine.
This wouldn’t be the first time he’s overstepped—as you vehemently argued last time.
It’s not the end of the world if you get upset, after all, you’re always mad at him.
He stares at you, watching the rise and fall of your chest as you sleep.
You’re a superhero, you can protect yourself. He knows that. He just…worries. And you shouldn’t need to protect yourself if he’s there to protect you, right?
—
Your lungs burn as you dry heave over the toilet.
You can’t breathe.
Maybe Spider-Man was right—maybe you should’ve gone to the medbay when you got back.
Nothing is coming out as you cough, leaning helplessly against the bathtub. It cools you down slightly, a fever slick against your skin.
Your suit has long since been torn off, too much of a hassle when you feel this sick.
Your throat burns, full of something that you can’t remove. It scratches along your esophagus as it comes up.
Blood splatters against the porcelain.
Your eyes widen as you cough more—which only brings up more blood.
Wiping the sweat from your palms onto your thighs, you try to focus.
Stay calm, stay calm.
You can’t.
It’s hard to be calm when you’re gasping for air, desperate for just one breath.
It finally comes after one last cough, but it doesn’t bring any relief. Only dread—as you watch the blood stained petals fall into the water.
You really should’ve gone to the medbay.
—
He’s sleeping beside you, his body fully slumped over onto his books that lay scattered across the table.
He’s snoring almost painfully loud in the otherwise quiet library. Every few minutes, a couple scowls will be thrown your way and a librarian will shush you before moving on.
Every time, you have to fight the urge to wake Peter up. But you don’t.
He looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks.
That alone makes the discomfort of everyone’s glares worthwhile.
He shifts beside you, humming softly as he sleeps. Your fingers reach out, seemingly of their own accord, and brush his hair away from his eyes.
“Awww,” you startle at the voice, snapping your head over to see a girl from your Econ class as she coos at you, “you two are so cute together.”
She smiles widely as you stammer.
“Oh, uh…I’m, we’re—”
“Thanks.”
Your stomach drops as Peter sits up, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You meet his gaze. He winks.
Your stomach sinks, this cannot be good.
“How long have you been together?”
He looks at you, eyebrows furrowing as he pretends to think. “Oh, a couple months now.”
You don’t hear the rest of the conversation, too focused on his grin to hear it. The ringing in your ears drowns out anything you would’ve heard anyways.
“Peter.” You hiss, too stunned to say anything else once he turns to you, the girl long gone.
He smiles sheepishly, the arm that was around you now falling limp at his side. You hate how much you miss the feeling.
“Sorry,” he rubs his neck, “I just thought it was funny.”
“Yeah, lying to a girl about us dating. That’s really funny.”
His cheeks burn as you scowl at him. The redness spreads the longer you stare.
“Okay, yeah, not that funny. But it’s fine. It’s just a harmless joke.”
—
Step 1: Kill Peter Parker
The marker squeaks as you write on the whiteboard. Peter groans as he buries his head in your pillow, attempting to avoid your glare.
It’s been two days since that day in the library, when he decided he just had to open his mouth and say the two of you are dating.
His stomach flips at the idea, pulse quickening slightly. He’s grateful you don’t have superhearing, so you can’t hear the way his heart races every time he sees you. Or talks to you. Or thinks about you.
Yeah, he’s doomed.
“Peter, I’m serious.”
“I am too!” He tries, finally peering up at you. You’re pouting, lips jutted out just enough for the shine of your lipstick to catch the light. He’s going to die in this room.
Not the worst place to die, surrounded by the smell of your perfume as he lays on your bed.
“Peter.”
He repeats your name back, swinging his legs over the side of your bed so he’s sitting.
“Literally everyone we know on campus has been messaging me about our secret relationship.” You whisper the last part, eyes wide as you gesture.
His cheeks grow redder as you continue, pacing across your room.
“I’ve been tagged in at least 57 different posts of pictures of us! Everyone is claiming they knew something was happening between us!”
His face pales, feeling the sudden urge to vomit. He hopes his feelings haven’t been that obvious. But he can’t help the sick feeling of satisfaction about the pictures.
Good. Maybe now everyone will back off.
He hasn’t spent the past two years scaring off any guy that comes within ten feet of you for nothing.
Maybe that’s wrong, but come on, he can’t be a hero all the time. He’ll deal with the guilt later—if the feeling ever catches up to him.
An idea forms in the back of his head, forcing its way to the front. He’s a genius.
He hops off the bed, snatching the marker from your hand.
You gape at him, spluttering as you reach for it. He’s bats your hand away, fixing your board.
Step 1: Date Peter Parker
“You’re insane.” You finally land on, after several more moments of spluttering.
He turns to you, fully convinced that this is his chance to win you over, and his is going to take it.
“Look, everyone thinks we’re dating anyways, right? Just keep up the ruse. This way, you don’t have to worry about going to parties alone or that guy in your civics class.”
“How do you know about that guy—”
He waves you off. “I’ll buy you dinner, flowers, show you how you should actually be treated.”
You open your mouth, finally able to get a word in. “Seriously, Peter? You’re still upset about that?”
He scowls at the floor, the memory of your senior year of high school still makes his blood boil.
“Brad Davis is a loser and you never should’ve gone out with him.”
“Peter!” You gasp, holding back a laugh.
“Look, it’s nothing serious.” He redirects. “At least it’ll be fun, right? Just casual fun.”
He mumbles the last part, more as an attempt to calm his nerves than anything.
“Casual fun?” You blink at him, eyes narrowing slightly.
“Casual fun.” He repeats, holding his hand out for you to shake. You grip his hand and he can’t tell whose palm is sweating. He hopes it’s not his.
And just like that, a plan was formed.
Casual. He can do this.
—
Peter Parker has never been casual about anything ever.
You were skeptical at first, and you still are.
But there’s no way you could pass up dating Peter, no way!
Even if it isn’t real.
But what if it could be? What if this is your chance to prove how good you’d be for him?
That’s why you agreed, anyways, to show him how good of a couple you’d make.
Even still, you’re not sure why Peter’s doing this. Casual fun? Casual is not a word in his vocabulary—a fact you’ve known for years, ever since he insisted you help him build an arc reactor for the science fair.
“What’re you thinking about?” Natasha peers at you skeptically, studying you. You pay her no mind.
“Peter.” You answer absentmindedly, still trying to figure him out. Your chest burns but you pay it no mind, having grown use to the feeling over the past few weeks.
She grins, lips curling with mischief as she leans in. Her hands clasp in front of her as she invades your space.
“Oh, right. I heard about that…your boyfriend.”
You finally look at her, heart dropping into your stomach. If Nat knows, then Stark knows. And if Stark knows, everyone knows.
“What?”
“Peter Parker? Brown hair, stupid science tshirts.”You should’ve seen this coming. Peter always talks about his Stark internship. You can’t think of any reason why he’d have to meet the Avengers though. Maybe just in passing?
“They’re not stupid.” You huff, feeling inclined to defend him even if he’s not here.
“Uh huh.” She hums, glancing behind you. You follow her gaze.
Steve leans in the doorway, eyebrows pinched together. “You have a boyfriend? When do we get to meet him?”
“Never.”
Nat snickers beside you, laughing harder as Cap pulls up a chair.
“We have to meet him.”
“No, you don’t.” You argue, attempting to wave them off dismissively. “It’s nothing serious. Casual, even.”
“Nothing serious? Casual? I don’t think you’ve been casual about anything ever.” Steve frowns.
You groan, throwing your arms in the air. You just can’t win with these people. “I can be casual!”
“Then introduce us.” Natasha’s grin widens as she leans back, crossing her arms. It sets your skin ablaze, the challenge evident in her tone.
“That is the opposite of casual!” You snap, stomping out of the room. You just hope you don’t run into Spider-Man on your way out.
—
“Hold this.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Please, hold this.” He stresses the word, growing impatient. The entire building is on lockdown, some alarm must’ve been tripped when the rest of the team entered.
“Sure, no problem.” You grin, accepting the disarmed bomb he hands you.
“You’re the worst teammate ever.” He grumbles, turning back to the computer that should—hopefully—disarm the remaining explosives lining the building. Then you’d just have to hope Stark does his part in un-locking down the building.
“You’re the worst teammate ever.” You mock, turning the bomb over in your hands. “At least I’m helping.”
“You are not helping. You’re just annoying me.”
“Well, you’re annoying me too.”
“At least I’m helping.” He spits your words back at you, making you roll your eyes.
“Whatever.” You hum, glancing around the room before looking at him. His shoulders are tense, foot tapping impatiently against the tired floors. “What’s got you in a mood, anyways? You know, aside from being trapped in close proximity to your arch nemesis.”
“You’re not my arch nemesis.” He scoffs.
“You’re mine.”
He rolls his eyes, accepting that this is a losing battle. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s obviously something, if it’s got you this worked up about it.”
“Why do you care anyways?”
“I care, because I’d rather not have my teammate losing focus in the field.”
“Right, of course that’s what you care about.”
“Duh.” You deadpan before softening. “Seriously, though. What’s up?”
“I’m supposed to go on a date later.”
Okay, you were not expecting that.
“Who would want to date you?”
He groans, casting an annoyed glance back at you before shaking his head. “Not helping.”
“Sorry. Go on.”
He huffs, “That’s part of the problem, anyways. She’s…well, she’s perfect. She’s smart and funny and cool. And way out of my league.”
“Isn’t everyone?”
“Can you just listen?”
“Yeah, sorry.”
“She’s amazing and I’m…me. And I mess things up. All the time. I don’t want to mess this up with her. I don’t even know if she feels the same.”
Your heart drops hearing that. But you ignore it. The last thing he wants is your pity—that’s the last thing you want too.
“How do I convince her I’m worth it?” He sighs, casting you another look—one that you can’t read—before mumbling, “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”
You sit beside him, sighing. “As the world’s leading authority on unreciprocated feelings, just go for it. Tell her everything you told me. That she’s smart and funny and cool. And way out of your league.” He groans as you laugh, nudging his shoulder. “Just treat her like you love her. If she’s worth it—she’ll feel the same. If not, that sucks.”
He’s quiet for a minute, considering your words, before he looks at you. “What do you mean you’re the leading authority on unreciprocated feelings?”
Oh, just that every time you think about him, you start coughing up blood and flowers.
“There’s this guy—I love him so much it makes me sick. Literally.” You don’t even know why you’re telling him this. Maybe it was something about the impending doom. Or maybe you’re just scared.
He looks at you, face unchanging. Not that you’d know, since he’s wearing a mask that covers the entirety of it. “For what it’s worth, I can’t imagine him not loving you back.”
The weight in your chest shifts, easing slightly.
“What?”
“You’re…” He groans, head dropping backwards, “Don’t make me say it.”
“Say what?”
“You’re great. I mean, you’re an Avenger!”
“So are you.” You argue, heart racing.
“Yeah, but you’ve been an Avenger. And you have super cool powers.”
“Aren’t you literally part spider?”
“Shush.” He hushes you, “Anyways, you’re super cool and whoever he is, he’s just some guy.”
“He’s not just some guy, though.”
“Compared to you, I think anyone would be just some guy. He’d have to be pretty amazing to compare.”
A beat passes. Then another as you stare at each other.
“Wow.”
He groans, standing up. But this time, he offers you a hand. You take it, ignoring the way your fingers burn as they brush against his. “I know, I know. You don’t need to mention it.”
“Who knew Spider-Man has such strong opinions about me?” You laugh, making his face burn even more. “Wow.”
He huffs at you, “I’m leaving now.”
“Uh huh. Have fun on your date, Spidey!” You tease.
For once, being stuck with Spider-Man for a mission didn’t seem so bad. In fact, it felt a lot like how hanging out with Peter does.
Ironically, you also have to get ready for a date.
—
Something is wrong with you. Something is very very wrong with you, but Peter can’t quite place it.
Every couple minutes, you have a coughing fit. He’s started timing them—seven minutes apart. Then they started getting closer. Five minutes. Three minutes.
Then you excused yourself, rushing towards the bathroom. He wanted to give you privacy, but every passing minute, the dread in his stomach weighed heavier.
“Are you okay?” Knocking on the bathroom door, he listens for your answer.
“Go away, Peter. I’ll be out in a—” You don’t finish your sentence, instead, a choked garble fills the space.
He knocks again, worry gripping him like a vice. “Are you okay?” He repeats, pressing his forehead against the door.
You must be really sick. Like really really sick, if you’re throwing up and coughing. Gross.
“I’m coming in.” He doesn’t wait for an answer as he pushes through the door. It’s unlocked, which makes his job easier.
You’re knelt over the toilet, grumbling something about stupid boys. He doesn’t know what stupid boy you’re upset about, but he doesn’t like them.
Oh, wait.
“Sorry. Are you okay?” Stupid question, Peter. A girl’s throwing up repeatedly and you’re asking if she’s okay?
Idiot.
“Go away.” You moan, coughing again. Red splatters paint the toilet bowl. You move to conceal the sight with your body but Peter has already seen it.
“What—” He stammers, horrified by the sight. “Is that blood?”
Yeah, he should not be allowed to be Spider-Man anymore. Worst detective ever.
“It’s fine.” You mumble, attempting to wave him off, but he isn’t having it.
“It’s not fine! You need to see a doctor.” His hands are freezing against your skin as he pulls you up. You’re burning. “Come on.”
“Peter,” you mumble, attempting to turn away from him, “I’m fine. Just go back to the table. I’ll be out in a minute.”
You seem awfully calm about this. What if you’re in shock? Oh no. What if you die?!
His stomach twists as he tightens his grip on you. “We’re going to see a doctor. You need help.”
“Quit manhandling me.”
“I’m not, I’m sorry, I just—” He freezes, guilt settling in his chest as he loosens his grip. “You’re sick, really sick. You need to see a doctor, please let me take you to see a doctor.”
You can barely look at him, just being this close makes the urge to throw up worse. “Okay.” You relent, letting him lead you towards the door.
You don’t make it very far before you’re pulling away, rushing back to the toilet.
You really didn’t want him to see this.
Petals soaked in blood scatter from your lips, one by one, falling into the porcelain bowl.
Your vision blurs as the pressure in your head worsens. Do not pass out, do not pass out.
Soon, you’re coughing up an entire dead carnation. It falls on the toilet seat, staring at you.
“What the—”
—
You wake up in a familiar room, surrounded by several of the Avengers.
“What—?” You can barely speak, an oxygen mask covers your mouth, blocking any sound from coming out coherently.
“How long?” Stark pulls the mask from your face. You’re expecting air to fill your lungs but it doesn’t, instead you feel like your getting punched repeatedly in the chest, the wind knocked out of you.
You reach for the mask again, holding it tight to your face as you take a couple breaths.
He repeats his question after a moment, looking at you expectantly.
“What?” You ask, brows furrowed.
He grabs a rolling cart with a screen on top of it. There’s an MRI of what you assume is your lungs on it. Flowers and vines are intertwined, taking up at least a third of the organ.
“You’re dying.”
“Stark—”
“Tony!”
Your other teammates finally decide to speak up, attempting to stop him from worrying you further.
Nat brushes a finger over your cheek, “What he means is, why didn’t you say anything?”
“It’s—I don’t know.” You can’t breathe, but this time you’re not sure if it’s from the flowers or the interrogation. Probably both. “Where’s Peter?” You look around, wracking your brain for what happened.
“I kicked the kid out when he started yelling at the doctors. Figured he needed a nap.”
“But—” You relax into your hospital bed.
“But nothing.” He glowers at you. “Why aren’t you getting better?”
“What do you mean?”
“You and Peter? You’re dating. So why aren’t you getting better?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“I’m not being stupid!” You argue, heart monitor beeping frantically as your patience wavers.
“Really? I think hiding an illness like this is stupid. Every time you go in the field, you’re endangering yourself and all your teammates. That’s stupid.”
“Tony—” Steve places himself in between the two of you as your monitor beeps rapidly.
You hadn’t thought about it like that. If something had happened to the team because of you…
Your stomach twists. You need to get out of here. You need to leave. You need to—
“I’m sorry.” You whisper. Nobody can hear you, at least none of the fully human members of the team can.
A nurse comes in, ushering everyone out as you cough. You hate the emptiness of the room, suddenly feeling much more alone.
A couple doctors rush in after her, filling the space back up again as your vision darkens once more.
—
Two days. You’ve been in the hospital for two days.
Stark insisted he has the best doctors working on your care but he can’t help but feel like it’s not enough.
Peter has taken to pacing outside the medbay, ignoring the annoyed looks he gets from some of the medics. He deserves it, he’s sure, after yelling at them.
But he was worried about you! Especially when you passed out.
He had to carry you out the back door and then swing you to the tower without waking you up.
Then he wasn’t sure if you should’ve been swinging like that, never mind his secret identity, what if he hurt you more?
His chest tightens.
“Kid, go home.” Stark finally leaves your room, arms crossed. “She’s sleeping. I’m sure you can talk to her when she wakes up.”
“Why isn’t she getting better?”
Tony frowns at him, his own worry evident. “She’s really sick.” He settles on his words, regretting them as soon as the air in the room grows heavier.
“But we’re—” Peter stammers, heart pounding in his chest. “She’s can’t die.”
“I hope not.”
“No, she can’t.” He stresses, “I can’t live with that, I won’t.”
“Then fix this.”
Stark leaves him to worry on his own, continuing to pace.
They’d told him about your affliction. Rare, life threatening. He couldn’t focus on the rest of their speech after he heard about your prognosis.
Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you tell him?
“There’s this guy—I love him so much it makes me sick. Literally.” He thinks back to that mission, the words ringing in his ears.
Are you? No. You can’t be. You would’ve told him.
Then again, he hasn’t told you about being Spider-Man.
His thoughts race as he thinks of all the missed hangouts, unread messages, unexplained bruises.
He’s an idiot. How could he not have seen it before?
Dread settles in his bones at a sudden realization. If you don’t get better, if you die—he’s going to lose you both.
—
“Peter. Stop pacing, you’re stressing me out.”
“I’m stressing you out?! You’re dying!”
“Yes, and stress isn’t good for me right now.” You roll your eyes, arms crossing as he rips at his hair.
His eye is literally twitching.
“Are you on drugs?” You ask, peering up at him skeptically.
He finally stops pacing to gape at you. “What?!” You raise an eyebrow and he splutters. “No! I’m not on drugs. Just…realizing I don’t know you at all. Or maybe I know you completely?” He groans, slumping into the chair beside your bed.
“What are you talking about?” He’s giving you a headache, the throbbing behind your eyes worsening with every unexplained sentence.
“You’re—” He huffs, shaking his head before stating your Super Hero identity. “You’re her?”
“What?!” You squawk. Of everything he could’ve said, that was the least expected.
“You’re an Avenger.” He states plainly, an almost annoyed expression pinching his face.
“How do you know that?” There’s no use denying it. You’re certain having the Avengers rotate in and out of your hospital room would’ve given it away earlier.
If not, the pile of flowers, cards and games from them that are stacked messily on your bedside table would’ve.
“I love him so much it makes me sick.” He quotes your words at you.
“You’re Spider-Man?!”
“What? No!” He groans, covering his face with his arms. “Yes, maybe. That’s not important right now.”
“That is very important! My best friend is Spider-Man. I can’t believe you’d keep that from me!”
“I can’t believe you’d keep this from me!” He shouts back.
Your heart monitor ticks upwards, beeping steadily as your heart rate quickens.
Hopefully you can pass it off as being mad at him and not the fact that he looks really good like this. Jaw clenched, eyes dark. His hair has gotten longer, falling into his eyeline. You want to brush the curls away, but you don’t.
“Peter.”
“No.”
“What do you mean no?”
“You can’t just say my name like that and expect everything to be fine.” He huffs, crossing his arms and looking away.”
“Like what?” You press, growing more exasperated with word.
“Like that!” He gestures at you, effectively clearing up none of your confusion.
You raise an eyebrow and he groans, gripping his hair tightly before looking back at you.
“Like you’re flirting with me or something, I don’t know!”
“Flirting with you?!” You cough, trying to cover it with a laugh.
But he doesn’t miss it, jumping up to pat your back as your cough worsens. His face sets in a worried line as the bucket he shoves in front of your face fills with petals.
“Ew.” You murmur, leaning back into his chest once you’ve finished coughing.
His heart races at the feeling, at having you this close, and for the first time he’s grateful he’s not the one hooked up to the heart monitor.
“Peter.”
“Hmm.”
“Did you want me to be flirting with you?”
“I don’t know.” He mumbles, cheeks turning redder, if that’s even possible.
“Oh, okay.” You start to pull away but his arms wrap around your waist, tugging you closer.
“That’s not what I meant. Of course I wanted you to be flirting with me. I just…I don’t know.”
“Oh.”
He groans, face dropping into the crook of your neck. Your perfume is gone now, only small hints of your body wash are left. He breathes you in, the familiar scent relaxes him slightly. The feeling doesn’t last.
“Why aren’t you getting better?”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re…well, I had hoped, I mean…”
“That I’m in love with you?”
He tenses at your words, shoulders locking up. You laugh shallowly, not bothering to turn to look at him, you can’t.
He wishes you would, though.
“Yeah.” He breathes out. “Tell me you’re in love with me.”
“Peter, this isn’t funny.”
“I’m not making fun of you. I’m in love with you.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am!”
“No, Peter. You’re not. Don’t try to convince me that you love me, just so I’ll get better. I can’t do that, Peter. Don’t do that to me.” Your voice breaks at the end, hands shaking in your lap. You hove them beneath your thighs, hoping he won’t see.
“I am!” He stands up, pacing again as he grows frustrated. “I’m in love with you! I’ve always been in love with you.”
“Peter…”
“No, let me say this! I’ve been falling in love with you since the day I met you. And I’ve loved you every day since then. Even when you tripped on my science project and destroyed it. Even when you refused to answer my texts after I missed movie night—that I’m now realizing you also had to miss.”
He frowns slightly, looking at you as if he’s seeing you for the first time. “I love you. All of you. Even when you threw me into a group of Hydra soldiers. Even when I pushed you out the window.”
You stare at him, eyes wide as he kneels in front of you, clasping your hands in his.
“Even now, knowing that this won’t be enough to save you.”
“Peter…”
“I don’t know who the other guy is, or what he did to deserve your love, but I need you to know that if it was me, I’d never let you doubt that I love you for another second.” His head falls, pressing his face into your thigh as he pleads with you.
“Peter, there is no other guy. It’s just you, it’s always been you. I love you.”
His eyes widen as he looks up at you, scanning your face. You smile softly, brushing a lick of hair out of his eyes. He can’t take them off you, not even to blink.
“You love me?”
“I’ve been in love with you since you punched Brad Davis at prom. But probably longer than that.”
“Awesome.”
“Peter, this is serious!”
“I am serious! That’s awesome! I got to punch my arch nemesis and make you fall in love with me in one night? That’s pretty awesome.”
“You’re such a dork.” You scoff, shaking your head.
His grin widens as gets up from the ground, setting beside you on the hospital bed.
“You love me?” He asks again, eyes locked in on yours.
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I love you.”
“Again.” He mumbles, lips pressing kisses against your collarbone as he pushes you down into the mattress.
“I love you.”
“Again.”
“Peter.” Your voice takes on a warning tone, a shiver running down your spine.
“Say it.” He insists, smiling wolfishly.
Your fingers tangle in his hair as he settles over you. “I love you, Peter Parker.”
He groans, forehead dropping against yours. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear that.”
“I think I might have an idea.” You tease, pulling his mouth down to meet yours. His lips curl up against your own as he’s unable to fight the grin taking over his face.
Finally.
