Bloom - Peter Parker

Pink: The Beach House

Four months after meeting Peter, senior year is over and it's finally summer. You're free - free from school, from the routine of having to haul yourself out of bed every morning, and with a brand new presence in your life, you're sure this is going to be the best summer ever.

Luckily for you, you have an uncle who lives out on the coast and owns a beach house, a beach house which is conveniently going to be empty for two weeks whilst he goes over to Europe for a business trip. So, what better way to kick off the summer than taking Pete on an adventure of your own?

It'd taken convincing, of course. Peter doesn't take the responsibilities of Spider-Man lightly. But once Mr Stark had caught wind of your beggings, he'd intervened and jumped in with an order for Peter to 'go and live your life while you're still young, kid', so much to your happiness and surprise, you find yourself settling into your aeroplane seat in mid-June, Peter right beside you.

"Um, Y/N," he begins, nervously fiddling with the metal clip of his seatbelt. You glance over, stilling when you notice the nerves wobbling over his face.

"What's up?" You ask, reaching out instinctively to take his hand. Your fingers rub comforting patterns over the back of his palm as he hums, face screwed up.

"I've, uh, I've never been on an actual aeroplane before?" He squeaks. Then he clears his throat, voice deepening considerably as a dark blush tickles his cheeks. "I mean, I've been on tons of Quinjets, but they're completely different, and I guess I'm just nervous because I don't have my web-shooters, so, like, what if something bad happens?"

You take a moment to let his concerns sink in, a part of your heart aching for the nervous boy. You've bonded now, so every time he feels any kind of negative emotion, it's almost as if you can feel parts of it too.

"Nothing bad is going to happen," you murmur gently, rubbing your hand over his arm. His muscles flex and relax beneath your touch, a soft breath passing his lips as you squeeze him. "Everyone on this plane is trained. They know how to do their jobs: how to fly the plane, and make sure all the doors are secure, and ensure that we're all comfortable, not to mention all the people back on the ground who watch the skies and put us on a clear path! There are so many people looking out for us, Pete. You don't have to worry about anything happening."

His teeth brush his lower lip, but the nerves seem less. "Sorry," he murmurs, taking hold of your hand and bringing it to his mouth. A small, chaste kiss lands on your skin as he peers up at you, eyes wide and soft. "I'm seventeen, I shouldn't- Well, I guess this is all just new to me."

"What is?"

"Letting go of control." He hesitates. "I guess, when I have my suit on and I'm out in the city, it's always me doing the looking after. It's just weird to pack that all up and leave, y'know?"

You nod softly. "I get it," you say, voice soft. "I'm honoured you'd want to leave it all behind, even for a few weeks."

His voice is strong and warm when he says, "'Course I would. It's you."

Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, you feel your heart dissolve into warm goo in your chest. You lean over the seats and steal a quick kiss from his lips, your mouth throbbing happily as you look at him fondly.

"I like you so much, Pete," you say, before moving back into your seat. The strong grip he has on your hand tightens as he hums beside you.

It's barely begun, and you already know this is going to be a spectacular holiday.

———

Your uncle's beach house is beautiful.

Nestled away on the verge of a stunning beach town, it lords over a long, yellow beach. It stands on white stilts, and the slatted wooden boards that make up the perimeter are covered in green plants with purple flowers. The entire thing is stunning, and you quickly settle into it.