Peter Parker Imagines

Gravity

Gravity

***

You didn't expect there to be this many guards.

The amount of black-clad, heavily-armed, and well-trained soldiers chasing after you could probably fill a stadium, you think as your feet pound against the sleek floors of the hallways, searching for a way out.

The bio-weapon is tucked neatly in the bag slung around your shoulder. It's a simple retrieval mission, get in, acquire the weapon, get out. But you start to think maybe you've bitten off a little more than you can chew. As a bullet whizzes directly towards where your head was seconds before, you grit your teeth and run harder.

They're everywhere, and closing fast. Yet another hallway leads to a dead end, and you curse, ducking into a nearby door and shutting it softly behind you. "Where the hell are you?" you hiss into your comm link.

"The cops just picked up the ringleader," comes Peter's swift reply. "He'll be behind bars soon. I'm coming."

You bite your lip. "Hurry. I can't get out; they've got all the exits blocked."

"Air vents?"

"Sealed, all of them. Peter," you breathe, and for just a moment, the fear creeps into your voice, "there's too many of them. I can't take them all."

There's a slow exhale on the other end, and you can picture the tiny downturn of his lips, the way he fidgets with his hands when he's nervous. "Listen to me, just sit tight, okay? The police are on there way, and I'll be there in a bit."

You pause for a moment, listening to the thundering of footsteps. "I don't think waiting is an option." Silence replies, and you take a deep breath. "Meet me on the northeast side of the building, okay? Three minutes. Be ready."

"What? What are you-"

"Three minutes, Peter. Just trust me."

You hear him sigh, and there's a long hesitation. "Okay."

Your fingers are shaking ever so slightly as they set a timer on your watch. You open the door, just a crack, barely enough to see out of. The hall looks empty. Holding your breath, you push it further and slip out, barely making a sound.

You slip into a rhythmic jog, keeping your footfalls muffled while sticking close to the walls. When you stop, across from you is a floor-to-ceiling window, orange light from the sinking sun streaming in and making the room glow. There's two halls spreading out from here, but both of them lead to locked doors. You take a deep breath and glance through the glass. You're standing on the fifth floor, the concrete sidewalk looking merciless beneath you. The elevator's shut down, the stairs blocked. There's no other way out.

Maybe this isn't one of your best ideas. Just a second off in timing could leave you splattered on the pavement or overwhelmed by guards. But there's not much of a choice right now. Two minutes, fourteen seconds. Your heart thumps uncomfortably as you watch seconds tick down, waiting. You're nervous, but Peter always has your back, you remind yourself. Even before he got his powers, he was your hero. He'll catch me. He always does.

You hear the attacker before he pulls the trigger, ducking out of the way as his bullet hits the glass behind you. As a web of cracks blooms from the hole, you throw yourself at the man, easily swiping his gun and knocking him to the floor. Fortunately, he doesn't get back up, but a fresh wave of soldiers streams into the room. Peter's still a full minute out.

For a few more seconds, you can stand your ground. You hold them off fairly well, except they just keep coming, like some multiplying hydra; every time you take out one soldier, four take its place. You're backed further and further against the glass. Swallowing hard, you eye the street below you nervously. Your timer's still ticking down from twelve, but right about now, you don't have many options.

"Peter?" you say, and, without waiting for a reply, "I love you."

Glass explodes from the window as you throw yourself through it. You're falling, spiraling towards the ground, a helpless victim of gravity. You can't even hear the scream rip from your throat, don't even feel the glass slicing your skin. Adrenaline rushes through you. The air is all-consuming as you cut through it, the concrete getting closer and closer.

You're vaguely aware of onlookers staring from the ground at the body falling from the sky. Your body, soon to be nothing more than a splatter on the pavement. He'll come, you tell yourself, screwing your eyes shut and letting your heart race at the speed of sound as fear washes over you. He'll catch me.

He'll always catch me.

And then he's there. Suddenly, you're pressed against his chest, with his heartbeat in your ears alongside your own, and he's the only real thing in the world. You're in his arms, you're in Peter's arms, and here, you're safe. You let yourself breathe again.

He's yelling something, but it's lost to the roar of the wind and the rush of blood in your head. You're low enough to brush the tops of cars if you point your toes, and it hits you how close you came. But you're alive. You're with him.

Peter touches down neatly on the sidewalk, clinging to you for a long moment before yanking you into an alley, away from clicking cell phones and prying eyes. He pulls off his mask, revealing pale cheeks and wide, terrified eyes beneath them. "What were you thinking?" he yells, his hands clutching yours tightly enough to make his knuckles go white, even now. "Jumping out a freaking window? I thought...God, Y/N, I thought I was gonna lose you." He pulls you close again, your body curving into his as he presses his head against your shoulder. "If I had been even a second later-"

"You weren't," you say softly.

"But I could've been."

"Peter," you pull back, tilting his chin upwards with your hand and wrapping your arms around his neck, "I'm okay. You saved me. I knew you'd catch me." You look at him, his deep brown eyes finally locking on yours. "You always catch me."

He lets out a little breath of laughter, running his hand through your hair, and it brings a smile to your face. "I swear, if you scare me like that again..." he warns.

You smirk. "You'll what? Ground me?" Grinning, you slip the bag over your head and dangle it in front of him. "I got the weapon, Webhead."

A smile eases its way onto his face as he swipes it out of your hands. "After we return this to the police, you're buying me a coffee as an apology" he announces, slipping on his mask. "And a biscotti. I think I deserve it."

"Pig," you say with a snort, playfully bumping your shoulder into his.

Peter laughs and grabs your waist, letting you hook your arms around his neck. "I'm glad you're okay," he whispers softly, letting out a small breath as he launches a web at the rooftop and swings into the sky. "And I love you, too."

***

--> a/n: let's hear it for the first fic in this little collection of imagines! *confetti cannons*. i hope you enjoyed this one. if you have any requests, feel free to send them in here or to my tumblr inbox (rainbowgraffiti), where most of my fics should be cross-posted. thanks for reading! more is on the way soon. :)) ~umana