Peter Parker Imagines

37. Excuse My French - Part Seven

A/N: why did I write so many parts of this I should've just made a separate book askdjaklsjdas. sorry again for the long wait, I had like 23289 essays and tests and midterms in the past couple weeks and they destroyed me. I have a ton of requests both here and one tumblr, not sure when I can get to the next ones, but I will do my best to get to them soon :D I hope you guys liked this series, only one more part left!

Warnings: Some Angst, Language

He's Spider-Man. He's Spider-Man. He's Spider-Man.

Those were the only words that managed to go through your brain as Peter landed on the ledge outside your window. He held you steady while your trembling fingers managed to pulled the window up, and go through.

You remembered your mother jokingly telling you that the windows were perfect for sneaking out at night, because she knew you would never do it - yet here you were, along with the guy you dated for like two minutes, who also happened to be a crime-fighting hero.

After the events of the last hour, all you wanted to do was give in to your exhaustion and anxiety and pass out for a few hours, but Peter promised an explanation and you needed one.

He hopped into your room a second after you did, ripping his mask off and shaking his head like a dog, which you might've found funny in any other circumstance. Instead you wrung your hands together and stood in the center of your room, trying to breathe through your nose evenly before you freaked out.

You knew New York wasn't the safest place in the world, that much was obvious, but you never actually thought you'd be caught up in a mess like you just had been. All you could think about was that man grabbing you, the things they said, if Peter hadn't been there-

"Are you okay?" Peter interrupted your thoughts with a tense tone, his hands hovering slightly like he wanted to hold you again like he had in the alley, but was afraid of your reaction.

"I don't know," you answered truthfully, bitting your lip, "I-I almost got hurt right now, and now I find out you're Spider-Man; I don't know."

Peter carefully sat at the end of your bed but you remained standing, trying not to tap your foot or fidget like you did when you got anxious. He wasn't saying anything yet, probably waiting for you to relax a bit, but how could you when he was wearing Spider-Man's outfit and it was like a bright headlight right in your face?

You needed a distraction, you needed answers, so you started from the beginning.

"So...when you got sick at the field trip-"

"Yeah," he ran a hand through his hair, the mask laying discarded on his lap while you paced in front of him. "One of the spiders escaped and bit me, and-and I guess it was a radioactive one since I have these powers now."

"You don't say," you muttered, your hands on your hips as you stared anywhere but him, which was really hard to do. "God, Peter. That was so long ago."

"Yeah," he repeated, tapping his fingers nervously on his thighs. "Are...are you mad?"

"Mad?" You scoffed, "I'm more relieved than mad. But also worried. Maybe a little mad, I guess. I don't know what to think."

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely, causing you to pause your pacing and look at him. "I'm really sorry, Y/N. You were the first person I wanted to tell, I swear."

You eyed him for a moment, "What?"

"Seriously," he stood up, taking your hands in his and causing your heart to skip a beat. He hadn't held your hand in months. "I was going to tell you what happened that night I was supposed to take you out."