Bloom - Peter Parker

Red: Love

"Y/N."

You glance up, quickly startling and standing when you see Peter, sans suit, frowning sadly at you. His arms wrap around you as you cry into his chest, sniffing loudly as your tears fall into the front of his warm hoodie. His grip on your back tightens as his lips grace your forehead, soft words slipping from his mouth as he tries to comfort you.

You pull back after a few moments, rubbing at your sore eyes as you realise night has fallen and you're absolutely freezing.

"I'm sorry," you mutter, fingers pressing over the marks of your sadness soaked into the front of his shirt. You look up, gaze wobbling as Peter shakes his head in dismissal.

"Don't worry about it," he whispers. His hand moves down and fingers slide into yours as gently he starts to guide you down the street, movements soft and gradual. Your eyes tear away from the sight of your charred building as you drift into his side, still sniffling but less than before. "Let's go home."

———

Peter's good to you. He really is.

You get back to his a little after nine, and he immediately bundles you up in so many blankets you get a little scared of suffocating. He then digs out some of your spare clothes and fetches his fluffiest towel, and pushes you off into the shower after a quick peck of your forehead.

The hot water shakes you from your daze, and by the time you're snuggling into your sweats and one of his hoodies, you're feeling significantly better. Acceptance washes over you: your apartment might be gone, but at least you still have a place to go to, and you know you'll receive some kind of financial compensation, so all isn't lost after all. And anyway: it's Christmas tomorrow. There are far more important things to focus on.

You pad out into Peter's living room, thankful that he lives alone, and find yourself grinning when you see him peering into his oven, deep lines creasing his forehead.

"What are you doing?" You call out, causing him to jump a foot in the air before spinning around, cheeks flushed.

"Trying to bake cookies," he replies, muttering somewhat. His attention returns to the oven as a timer beeps, and he grabs the gloves before opening it and pulling out a tray of blackened biscuits. "Well shit."

You creep over, peering down at the charred cookies as you laugh. "They look a bit burnt, Pete," you tease, noting how one looks like it's been on fire.

"Shut up," he whines. He closes the oven door noisily and pouts, thin lower lip curling over. "Was just trying to do something nice for you."

Your grin of amusement melts into one of gratitude as you lean up and kiss him quickly, enjoying the brief union of your lips. "I appreciate it very much," you say, voice quiet. His arms settle around your torso as he hugs you closely. "Maybe we should go with hot chocolate instead."

———

You end up on his sofa, cuddled together beneath an Iron Man blanket as you force him to watch Love Actually for the fifteenth time this month. He doesn't seem to mind; instead lets you cry and cards his fingers through your hair, a gentle reminder that he's there for you. Once the film is over, you wrap up some presents together as plans for tomorrow are finalised.

Finally, he leads you out onto his balcony, lights a few candles, and you sit around his outdoor table as you wait for midnight. Peter lives in an area renowned for holiday celebrations and has assured you that the park beside his building shoots off fireworks as the 24th slips into the 25th, so you wait there together for the clock to tick down.