Imagine If You Assembled The Avengers: Volume 2

Christmas Can't Wait (Parker x reader)

"Ugh," you groaned quietly, since the sound of even your own voice only made your head pound even more. You had been on the couch with your head buried under pillows and blankets to try to shield yourself from the sun that wouldn't take the hint to leave you alone, and from the sounds of families running through the halls of your apartment building as they met for Christmas traditions. It was like the universe and world around you had no idea of your suffering, and you couldn't help but feel put out. When a gentle knock sounded on your door, it echoed through the room like a sledgehammer striking, and you couldn't believe the audacity of whoever was on the other side of it.

"Go away."

"(Y/N)?"

"Parker?"

"Um...yeah?" he answered through the door, almost too quietly. "We were supposed to meet up today to exchange gifts, remember?"

"Aw, crap," you whined, tossing the heavy blankets away with a weak effort. "Alright, hold on." With a shuffling gait you made your way to the door, your eyes barely open, reaching your destination only to lean against the wall enough to free a hand to open the locks. "There, come on in."

"Hey, did you...forget...dang, (Y/N), you look awful," he greeted, only to meet your scowl that made him take a step back. "Are you sick?"

"It's just a headache," you waved off dismissively, turning back to your makeshift bed on the couch, "but still, talk a little quieter, would ya?"

Peter simply nodded and closed the door with a soft push and a grimace when it made even the slightest sound as it latched tight. He stood still for a moment and watched you climb back under your blankets, looking down at the gift in his hands and wondering if it would be better to reschedule your annual gift exchange for another day. The two of you had been doing this on Christmas for as many years as he could remember, and even though he enjoyed the tradition being on Christmas day, it wasn't nearly as important if you couldn't enjoy it with him.

"We can do this tomorrow, (Y/N)," he offered, still at the door, "I'm sorry you don't feel well."

"Get your butt over here, Pete, we're doing this."

"Yes, ma'am...okay..." he agreed without argument, hurrying to sit on the floor next to you. "I don't mean to sound like a jerk, but you really do look awful. Anything I can do to help?"

"Just grab your gift, over there," you pointed towards the tree, waiting for him to retrieve it. You huffed and shook your head when he chose the easier route, slinging a web to snatch the small box, bringing it quickly into his hands. "Showoff."

"Well, yeah. Mr. Stark gave me another upgrade, so my accuracy is ridiculous."

"Sure, but you ripped the paper."

"Sweet!" he laughed with an excited clap of his hands. "Then I get to go first!"

You pulled the blankets over your head again with a low growl, your head pounding with the resounding snap that his clapping had echoed through it. "Fine, go first, just stop with the noise, alright?"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" he apologized in an urgent whisper, raising up onto his knees at your side and placing a gentle hand on your back. "Seriously, (Y/N), we can do this tomorrow. Let's just work on getting you to feel better, okay?" He stood and made his way to your kitchen, taking very deliberate care to open and close your cupboards and drawers as gently as possible as he searched for anything that could help. "Tea? Soup?"

"No, thanks. I've already tried everything. Just come sit down."

"Okay." Peter again took his place next to you, this time reaching just under the edge of the blanket until he found your hand, holding it with a rub of his thumb over the top as he watched you. He studied every curve and line of your face as if it were the first time he was seeing it; he felt terrible to see you like this, and he felt helpless when there was nothing that he could think of to make it better. When you opened one eye just slightly to look back, he quickly turned away.

"You're staring. Do I really look that bad?"

"Not at all...no..." he said with a clearing of his throat, now sounding a bit nervous to you. "Okay, so let's do this." He pulled his hand away and took his gift, opening it with a slow carefulness that had you ready to scream at him to just do it. The tearing of the paper was like torture in your head. Once he had it finally opened, he gasped at the sight, taking the key from the box and holding it out in front of him as he stared. "Is this to your apartment?"

"Yeah," you nodded coyly, "I don't like you running off to Stark every time you need to lay low. I'd rather you come here where I can keep an eye on you. If you go home with one more black eye, May's never gonna let you see the light of day again."

"You have a point there."

"She's going to catch on that the 'Steve from Brooklyn' excuse that you keep using isn't true anymore."

"Hey, it had a good run," he scoffed, "I thought it was pretty good for an excuse on the fly." Pete sat with a lopsided smile for a moment, taking a deep breath and setting the gift on a nearby table. "Thank you, (Y/N), I appreciate it. I love y-...it..." He recovered quickly and stood, pushing your feet aside so that he could sit on the couch next to you, lying your legs over his lap and shifting the blankets to cover you both. "Alright, your turn!"

You took the small box from his hands as he eagerly pushed it into them, with so much force that you almost dropped it. "Settle down, Spiderboy, I've got it."

Peter waited with his breath held tight in his chest, worried that you would hate the gift that he had chosen for you, and that this would be the moment when everything would change between you. He began to second-guess his choice and considered grabbing it back and leaping from the window to get away, but before he could make the effort to move, you held the gold necklace in your hand, the delicate web-shaped charm swaying slightly in your grasp.

"This is adorable," you smiled, "thank you, Pete. I love it."

"I love you."

"You...you what?"

His eyes shot open wide at his blunder, matching the gape of his mouth as he tried to back away, only to find himself trapped at the end of your couch and under your legs when they shifted to hold him in place. "I mean...I love...that you love it...is what...is what I meant..."

"Pete."

"I didn't mean...what I wanted to say..."

"I love you, too, you idiot. Your eloquence is just so irresistible."

"That sounds like something Mr. Stark would say," he blurted out, immediately realizing that he shouldn't have by the look on your face.

"Pete, I'm gonna need you to decide if you're dating Tony or me, because if his name keeps coming up as much as it has been lately, I'll make the decision for you."

"You?" he asked, with too much inflection as a question. "You. Definitely you. That wasn't a question, I swear. Totally you. I do feel some weird dad-like feelings about Tony, sure...but I don't love the guy...per se...so yeah...you."

Now completely done and wanting to return to sleep and quiet rather than to listen to him try to dig himself out of this hole he had fallen into, you buried yourself deep under your blankets again, much to his panic.

"(Y/N)? Come on, you know that I suck at this stuff...I could never love Mr. Stark like I do you...that sounded worse...I'm sorry..." he stammered, unable to recover. "Stuff like this is why you have a headache, isn't it? (Y/N)?"