Spider-Man Imagines I

The Choices We Make (Part One) | Peter Parker [TH]

He decided on Aladdin because he knew that, with the good mood you were in, you were going to want to sing and he knew a lot of the songs from Aladdin (thanks to you).

As he pulled the movie out of it's spot he heard a crashing sound of glass down the hall. He whipped around, movie slipping from his fingers as his mind darted around possibilities.

Your parents were gone; your dad worked nights and your mom was staying with a friend of hers outside of the city. It was just you and Peter.

His spidey senses buzzed. Was it?

He ran out of the room, his bare feet hitting the ground rather loudly as he rushed down the hall and turned into the kitchen. He stopped just at the hard floor, where a few dozen shards of blue glass scattered. A broken bowl.

He looked up from the mess and saw you, eyes frozen and terrified and locked on one of the five men in your house. One of them, he realized, had a gun. Pointed at you.

He took a step forward, not caring about the glass, only knowing that he needed to get to you, to protect you.

The man snatched your arm, gripping you so tightly above the elbow that you yelped painfully. Peter stopped for half a second, watching as the man twisted your arm as if to spite him, forcing you to his chest. The gun rested just at your neck.

Peter's mind flashed red. "Get your hands off her-" Another step forward, pain in the heel of his foot.

"Not so fast, Spider-Boy."

The voice. He froze.

Norman Osborn stepped away from the fireplace in the living room where he was observing the rows of family photos. He smiled almost politely as he walked to the center of the kitchen, looking from you to Peter. The men with him followed suit, all holding guns.

"Now," he said. "Tell me, Peter, did you really think you could hide who you were from me?" He smiled. "How easy it was to follow Spider-Man and see him crawl into the window of a teenage girl. You even took your mask off for her, not bothering to close the curtains or check to see if you were being followed. Love makes you stupid, Mr. Parker, don't you agree?"

Peter didn't know what to do. His spidey senses were giving him a headache. He couldn't focus on one thing; his attention was on you, Norman, and the guns all at once. He needed his suit, but it was all the way back in your room. He needed to protect you.

How had he failed? How was he stupid enough to bring them right to you? How hadn't he known that they were on to him?

"Please," he said to the man with the gun pointed at you, hating that he had to resort to begging already. "You and I can solve this on our own, Mr. Osborn."

"Oh, and we will, Mr. Parker. We will be solving our little problem very soon. But you and your girlfriend will have to come with us." He nodded, frowning like it brought him great pain to do so.

"She's not coming," Peter said.

"She is," Norman insisted. He raised a hand.

At the movement, the man with the gun on you grabbed you by the arm and dragged you away from where you stood. Peter stepped forward, crunching glass beneath him, hand out to shoot a web.

Norman held up two hands to stop him. "Mr. Parker! There are five guns in this room and two web shooters on your wrists. Each of the guns are pointed at your girlfriend. Do you really think one of them won't go off if you try something?"

Peter dropped his hands. "Please," he half whispered. He looked pitiful, he knew it. "Don't hurt her, okay? She... she doesn't need to be a part of this. Just you and me, Mr. Osborn."