Spider-Man Imagines I

Save Him, Save Her | Peter Parker [TH]

"Pete, we're out of chips," you said, tipping the bowl. Peter pushed himself off the floor and took it from you, brushing crumbs off his shirt.

"No worries," he said, "I'll get some more. Turn on the next movie?"

"Sure," you said. "Can we watch Toy Story?"

He smiled at you. "I mean, I guess."

You grinned triumphantly and hurried to the shelf of movies. Peter refilled the bowl with chips and came back, plopping down on the bed made of throw pillows and soft blankets. You sat on the couch and he scooted back so he was right next to your legs.

"After this," you said, as the blue sky and cloud wallpaper appeared on screen, "we should watch Monsters Inc."

...

Three hours later, Peter's eyes closed. He remembered seeing the scene of Monsters Inc when Mike and Sully were hiding in the bathroom stall, and then he was out.

He dreamed. It was a mix of Pixar movies and you all together, making it pretty much the best dream ever. He was barely aware that he had fallen asleep - and where he had fallen asleep.

In his dream, you were sitting in a movie theater beside him, watching Monsters Inc. He was trying not to overreact as you reached over and held his hand, resting your elbow on the arm of the seat between you and him. He was eating popcorn and candy - and then he started to realize that he couldn't swallow it.

His throat was dry and it ached. He coughed, trying to clear it. Was he choking? He coughed again, and looked at you. You weren't paying attention. He squeezed your hand.

You looked at him with grave concern. And then-

"Wake up, Spider-Man."

Peter's eyes popped open. He gasped, but he couldn't suck the air down his throat. He was becoming more aware of the ache in his chest, and the warmth of a hand tight around his throat.

"Wake up, Spider-Man," a man hissed. He smelled of cheap cologne and tobacco. Peter saw a glimmer in his dark eyes. The man was on top of him right where he had fallen asleep on the floor. Peter's eyes widened.

You were sprawled across the couch cushions above him, sleeping.

Oh gosh. If this man touched you-

If he touched Aunt May-

Peter wheezed. He struggled for breath, kicking and squirming, but the lack of oxygen coming in his brain was seriously effecting his powers.

"Now now, Spider-Man," the man whispered. He gave a sinister smile and reached up. Peter's eyes widened as the man trailed one finger down the side of your cheek softly. "We don't want to wake her up."

"Don't... touch her!" he managed, anger and fear and disgust all causing a ton of bile to get lodged in his closed-off throat.

The man laughed. Barely. "Spider-Man... I need to cooperate here," he said. He lifted his hand off of you and Peter saw you shift, turning onto your side. You hummed quietly, tucking your hand under your cheek, making his heart squeeze. You were so oblivious to the danger you were both in. "If you make a move to stop me, I'll kill her. Believe me when I tell you that I'll kill her."

He lifted his hand off of Peter's neck just as Peter was beginning to see stars. He gasped, sucking air into his raw throat, his chest burning with the effort. Puke was in his mouth now, but the man clamped a sweaty hand down on Peter's lips to quiet the sound, so he swallowed the pure acidic bile. He whimpered. He couldn't help it. He was scared and couldn't breathe and it was reminding him of Mr. Toomes buried him under all of that rubble-

The hand was lifted off of his lips. "What do you want?" he rasped.

"Your pal Tony Stark took some of my men's cargo and confiscated it. Some serious alien tech. Years of searching and digging for it and he takes it. And if you don't help me get it back, you'll regret it real fast. I'll-"

He didn't finish. He reached up to grab you again, but when his hand met nothing but warm cushions, he and Peter both looked up. Half a second later, something hit the man's head with a pang! and he fell on top of Peter, letting out a single groan before collapsing unconscious.

Peter squirmed and wiggled out from under the heavy weight. The man rolled over on the carpet and Peter hurriedly slid back, gasping. He looked up and saw you, a frying pan gripped in your hands. He stared at it, eyebrows together.

"Well," you said, out of breath, "it worked on Tangled."

He couldn't help it. Despite how badly his hands were shaking, he smiled. And then he got up and stepped towards you. He was so grateful that you were alive, that you had saved him.

And so he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you, pressing his lips so tight against your mouth. You tossed the frying pan onto the couch and placed your hands on top of his. He hummed against you before he pulled away, forehead against yours, eyes closed.

"Are you okay?" you asked.

"You saved me," he said, and again, lovingly, "you saved me. Yeah, I'm fine."

You pulled your head back and reached for his throat, rubbing your thumbs against the thin skin that was getting darker by the minute. He relaxed.

"I'll call the police," you said, "and I'll get you some ice to put on that. You wake up May and let her know what happened."

He nodded. Just as you pulled away, he reached for your hand, making you pause.

"___-" He wanted to say, I like you so much or I am in love with you or anything meaningful, but instead he managed a croak of, "Thank you."

And you beamed at him like he had just told you everything he had wanted to say.