Spider-Man Imagines I

Keep Her Safe | Flash Thompson [TR]

And you were in danger simply by being near him.

He remembered the first time he had walked you home. It was sophomore year and you had come over to his house for a study session. It was the first time he'd ever held your hand. He loved the feeling of it so much he thought he would never let go.

As he walked you home, a man in dark clothes started to follow you. Flash knew it wasn't good; when is it ever good to see a guy stalk you at night?

"What do we do?" you'd asked, sidestepping closer to him. Your left arm pressed against his right and your free hand came around to clamp around the inside of his elbow. Your skin was clammy.

And he began to feel the overwhelming urge to keep you safe.

"Flash," you'd whimpered, hearing the man near you. "I'm scared."

"I'm going to keep you safe," he'd said seriously. "Now pull out your phone and dial 911. Don't hit send until he does something." He had pulled you in front of him slightly as you had dialed. "No matter what, you just call."

He had started to freak out. What was he even going to do? He had no idea.

But as the man got closer than before and you'd whirled around, a scream in your throat, Flash had turned around, the overwhelming thought of keep her safe! keep her safe! in his mind.

He'd swiftly punched the guy in the nose, his other hand locking around the wrist of a gloved hand that held a pocket knife. He'd slammed the man against a wall of a building and threw his head forward, knocking his forehead against the man's mouth and teeth.

While you'd talked on the phone, he'd held the man down, blood dripping down his head.

That night, he had to get three stitches across his forehead. It was all made bearable by you as you had sat next to him at the hospital, holding his hand with both of yours.

He was feeling very similar tonight. His mind was filled with keep her safe! keep her safe! and he knew he had to, no matter what that meant for him.

His doorbell rang and he forced himself up, his eyes burning and his throat aching with the words he was preparing himself to say.

He walked to the front door slowly, the sound of the doorbell chime on top of chime as you rapidly hit it. He grabbed the knob he hadn't bothered to lock and turned, yanking it open.

Your face filled with relief as he stepped inside the tiny space he allowed between the door and the frame. Your hand held your phone, 911 dialed on the screen.

Just like that night.

"Flash," you gasped, "oh my gosh, I thought something bad happened to you. I've been a nervous wreck for almost an hour! Where did you go? Why did you leave? Baby, what's been going on lately-" You stepped forward, hand going to the door to push it open.

He held it closed and looked at you with a hard expression. "Go home, ___," he said, voice trembling.

"What?" you breathed. "Flash, baby." Your eyes looked wet as you tried to look around him. "Is it your dad again? If it's your dad, baby, please let me in. I can help you. Get your stuff and come with me. We have a spare bedroom you can take-"

"It's not my dad, ___," he said. He nearly choked on his next sentence, the thought of putting any blame on you making him sick. "It's you."

You froze. "Why... why would you say that?" When he didn't answer and just cast his eyes to the ground, feeling them fill with tears, you started to cry. "Flash, baby, let me in. If I did something, help me know that it was so I can fix it. I'm so sorry if I overstepped any boundaries or seemed to be clingy, I'm just worried about you. Just let me in-"

"No," he snapped loudly. You jumped away from him. His blood burned and he began to slip away again. "No. I don't want you to come in."

He could practically feel you crumble. "You don't... want me?" you whimpered.

"No," he said. "I don't want you."

You took a step back, hopping off the porch. He fought against the will to grab you and never let you go, knowing quite well that he was just keeping you safe like he always wanted to do, like he always tried to.

But you didn't know as you looked at him, eyes filling with emotions he'd never seen before. He wasn't sure if you hated him or hated yourself or hated his dad or maybe all three, but he was breaking at the look of it.

And then, just like that, the hate melted into sadness and you looked away, running towards the end of his driveway, where no car was waiting to pick you up. You were going to walk home.

Keep her safe.

He silently prayed that Spider-Man would be out in Queens tonight to protect you, because Flash couldn't do much anymore. You were safer out there than you were near him, and that was all he ever wanted.

To keep you safe.