Peter Parker Imagines

Butterfly Kisses PT.2

You'd finished your biggest feat yet- restoring an old beat up car. Months and months of greasy palms, frustrated yelling and scouring every junkyard you could- and you'd finally done it.You'd turned this old hunk of junk, into a smooth running car, and you couldn't be happier- at least that's what you'd first thought. When you took it for a little joy ride to Peter's apartment- he made your happiness grow tenfold. The look of awe on his face was incredibly sweet. He'd remembered what it had first looked like when you got it from a fellow mechanic friend. He remembered how many hours you spent in their shop, how many times he had to force you to take a break so you wouldn't burn yourself out.

He was so incredibly proud and in complete awe of you. The skill you had was amazing. Your determination was unmatched and- god, he just adored you.

He especially adored how you'd thought of him first. Of all the people you could have chosen to take a first joy ride in your restored car, you chose him. He loved that infinitely. Loved that he was that important to you.

"You can control the radio while I drive.", you told him.

Old as the car was, you made sure it had a nice sound system. For all the work you put into it, you were damn well gonna blast whatever music you so chose, and you'd be damned if you used cheap old speakers to do so. Plus- you probably would've exploded if you blew out your speakers within the first day of having this sucker up and running.

Peter was more than happy to have control of the music- hell, he was more than happy to sit in the passengers seat and watch you drive. As long as he was with you, he didn't care what he was doing.

As you started up the car, he started going through the stations, not looking for anything in particular. Anything to fill up the silence- anything that might have you singing sweetly or bobbing your head- which surprisingly, you did no matter what station he turned to. Spanish station?

"Y se formó la gozadera, Miami me lo confirmo. Ay el arroz con habichuela, Puerto Rico me lo regaló.**", you sang along, still humming the song when it was over.

English Pop?

"Everything I do, I do it with a passion. If I gotta be a bitch, I'mma be a bad one."

Alternative?

"Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who dares to dream.."

Rap?

"Don't Don't play with her, don't be dishonest. Still not understanding this logic.."

After a few more songs, Peter stopped messing with the radio. He let out a soft and sweet little laugh, looking at you with warm eyes, "How come you know the words to every single song on the radio?"

You smiled softly, glancing at him as you stopped at a red light, "Babe. I've been in and out of that shop for months, working on this car. I needed something to listen to other than the noises of my tools. The radio was my only option- not that I'm complaining, you know I love music."

"That I do.", he replies, still smiling, "But seriously? Every song that's come on, you know the words to. Every station, english or spanish."

"Is it a problem?"

"No, but it's giving me a challenge."

"A challenge?", you ask, driving as the light turned green.

"Bet I can find a song you don't know.", he taunted.

You smirked, "Try me."

Long story short, he couldn't find a single song you didn't know- at least not this time. However, he promised one day he would- and from that, it would grow into a game you both loved to play- but that's a story for another time. For now, you enjoyed the music playing through the speakers of one of your big accomplishments. You savored this moment- this little bit of paradise in this empty parking lot you'd pulled into. Your boyfriends lips pressed softly against yours, filling you up with sweet butterflies and overall happiness. Soft sweet and warm- just as Peter had always been.

**"And the happiness was formed, Miami confirmed it to me. And the rice with beans, Puerto Rico gave it to me."