Spider-Man Imagines I

Where Are You Christmas? | Peter Parker [TH]

You frowned. "I... I-I won't be much fun," you admitted. You ducked your head down and tucked and let your hair fall around your face like a curtain. "It's still hard."

"That's okay," he assured you. "You can be as un-fun as you wanna be. No matter how boring you are, you're still my best friend."

You couldn't help but smile at him - at least a little bit. "Okay," you decided, "I'll come."

He half-gasped with happiness and leaned in, hooking an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. He hugged you quickly.

"I promise," he said, lips close to your ear, "it's gonna be great." He pulled back, gave your arm am awkward pat, and turned back towards his tray.

You took a deep breath through your smile.

...

Peter was up bright and early Christmas morning, a big plate of pancakes on the table. As soon as he had set the plate down in the center of the table, there was a knock on the door.

"I got it!" he exclaimed, sliding on sock feet out of the kitchen and running to the front door. He pulled it open, catching his breath and fixing the strand of hair in front of his eyes at the same time. He saw you, dressed in a sweater dress and leggings, hair pinned out of your face, arm full of small gifts. "Hey, Merry Christmas!"

Somewhere in the kitchen, Aunt May echoed him. "Merry Christmas!"

"Hi," you said. "Merry Christmas." You blushed as you came inside of the apartment. He closed the door and took the gifts from your hands.

"You didn't have to do all of this," Peter said. He put the gifts under the tree.

"I did," you said. You stepped out of your boots and smiled.

"Well, you're great," he said, feeling weirdly confident with himself. "You look great, too."

"Oh, thanks," you replied. You took a deep breath. "It smells good in here."

"That's because we made Christmas pancakes!" he said.

"Christmas pancakes?"

"Uh-huh." He waved you towards the kitchen and grabbed you a plate. He put a couple of pancakes on it and then grabbed the can of whipped cream. He sprayed a large dollop on the center and then grabbed a tub of red and green sprinkles. He dusted the pancake with them and handed it to you. "There! Christmas."

You smiled. "Um, wow. Festive."

Aunt May placed two cartons on the table. "We have eggnog and milk," she said. "Help yourself! Oh crap - I think I just burned these pancakes-"

After Aunt May tossed the blackened pancakes out of the window (sending them soaring seven stories down) and left it cracked open to air out, everyone sat down and shoveled Christmas pancakes into their mouths.

The kitchen was smokey and hot, and the air smelled weird, and the eggnog and pancakes combined hurt your stomach, but you laughed. You smiled and laughed at everything Peter said. May was funny, too; telling stories of her Black Friday adventures, telling Peter to slow down after his sixth pancake.

And Peter, you noticed, kept glancing at you.

He knew how fragile you were. He knew how careful you acted, how guarded you were. Every family tradition you were introduced to was a reminder that yours ended long ago.

After breakfast came presents, and Peter had you open one of yours first. A handbag, new book, and stocking full of candy from May and a couple of comic books from Peter came first, then they exchanged gifts. After that, Peter handed you a box.

"I had it specially ordered," he said proudly. Then he shyed away. "I, uh, hope you like it."

It was from him - a graphic t-shirt of your favorite movie super villain. You grinned and thanked him, holding it to your chest. "Oh my gosh!"

"You like it?"

"Peter, I love it," you said.

"You - you do?" He scratched the top of his head. "I-I got the size right and everything?"

"Yes," you said, reaching over and grabbing his hand. "It's perfect." You squeezed his fingers. "You've made all of this perfect."

"All of it?" he asked. He smiled.

You tugged on his hand, inviting him to move from the floor in front of the couch to the cushion beside you. He did, fingers twisting to intertwine with yours.

"You made everything so perfect, Peter Parker," you said. Your eyes were full of tears. "I couldn't ask for a better Christmas. Thank you so much."

He smiled softly and nuzzled his head in the dip of your neck, cuddling close with you and falling in love with you as the Christmas morning went on.

When May wasn't looking, you gave him a kiss on the lips as a proper thank you.