2nd Person POV
"Peter Parker, I swear to god if you don't get out of that bathroom I . . . stop watching Star Wars with you!" It was the final straw, for the last hour you have been smacking the bathroom door and yelling at Peter. He wouldn't come out of the damn bathroom.
May asked you, his best friend, to take him to the dentist to get one of his wisdom teeth removed. And Peter wasn't for it. He knows and trusts you more than anyone, that's also why Aunt May told you to take him, and she's working all day.
"You wouldn't dare," Peter fought as soon as you threatened to stop watching Star Wars. For the past hour it was just food threats and tickle threats, but the appointment is in 20 minutes and you have to get him out now.
"I do dare, and in fact, I'll hide your Spider-Man suit!" you yell once again, and that's when the bathroom door shot open to an angry looking Peter.
Peter towered over you a good . . . four or five inches, making him look intimidating, but you know you have more power over him. "We leave now, you will not hide my suit, and we will watch Star Wars later today when I am in fact, not on drugs."
"Got it, Spidey," you say, booping his nose in the process before running off towards the apartment door.
Not even five minutes on the subway, Peter was already tapping his foot in nervousness.
"Quit it," you whispered over the tons of people.
"I just can't, my foot has a mind of its own," Peter whispers back in frustration.
You move your hand up the railing, meeting Peter's. You grab onto his hand, and his tapping stops.
Okay.
While that was cute in all, now you held onto both of this hands as you drag him into the dentist office. Constantly, Peter planted his feet into the sidewalk, preventing him from moving any closer to the building.
"Peter. Benjamin. Parker." You grit through your teeth, "get your ass in that office now or I will remove those teeth myself."
That threat got him going. Peter's eyes widened with horror, never seeing this side of you, and practically ran into the office. Peter sat in silence while you checked him in. He sat near a elderly woman, but looked a little horrified, as he watched The Good Dinosaur.
You sat down next to him, noticing his foot tapping against the floor again. So you grab one of his hands and saw the tapping stop.
"Peter Parker?" A young woman asks with a clipboard in her hand. Peter's head perks up with his heart racing. Your hand never left his as he dragged you back with him, mostly because he doesn't want to be alone.
The young woman, whose name is Cindy, sat Peter down in a dentist chair, looking frightened as ever. There is a big light above him, a bunch of medical tools he doesn't recognize, and a whole surgery about to happen to him right before his eyes. He wants to run.
But he didn't. Still, you held onto his hand, giving him little squeezes to reassure him you are still here.
The nerves got worse for him when the woman pulled out a rather large needle, his breath hitched. You began rubbing small circles on his knuckles, hoping it you calm him down, which is did a little until that woman kept talking.
"I'm sorry ma'am, but you will have to sit in he waiting room while we are taking out his wisdom teeth." She said as nicely as possible, which wasn't nice enough.
Peter clutched to you hand even more, digging his nails into your palm. He looked at you in a worried expression, but sadly, you shook your head.
"Yeah, I'll leave in a minute," you said, never taking your eyes off of Peter. You stood up from your seat and stood above Peter, not breaking the hand in hand contact. With your other hand, you massage the top of his head and kiss his temple. "Be the brave Spider-Man I know you are," you whisper against his forehead so only he could hear you.
Peter nods his head a tiny bit, prepping himself for the worse to come. And with that, you left him to pain and misery.
———
Just after finishing your next week's biology homework, a new voice called from the other side of the room. "Are you here for Mr. Peter Parker?"
"Uh, yeah, is it done?" you ask, stuffing the last bit of paper in your backpack.
The man nodded his head and motioned to follow him back. He led to back to where you left Peter in the first place and opened the door for you.
Peter laid on the dentist chair, sleeping in probably one of the most uncomfortable positions ever, with gazes in his mouth and a little bit of drool on his mouth. A little angel.
"Now when he wakes up," the man from before says, interrupting your thoughts, "he is going to be loopy from the medication we put him under. But I'm sure you can handle it." What is that supposed to mean? "There's extra gazes on the table for you to take so his other ones aren't so bloody, and you two are free to go whenever." The man left, closing the door almost all the way. Now for the fun to begin.
You sat there for about seven minutes playing Candy Crush and taking Snapchat photos of Peter (only sending them to May) and he finally woke up. At first, he couldn't get his eyes open, but he wiggled his hand around and his mouth moved a little.
You grabbed his hand, circling your thumb over his knuckle to signal you were here. Peter's senses kicked up instantly, he knows you are here, so he did his best to give you a cheery smile, but only ended up to be a droopy one.
"Hey, Petey, how are you feeling?" you ask as one of his eyes peek open. His droopy smile turns up a little more, but still looks floppy.
"Well," Peter drags out the word as his head falls slightly to the left, "Petey feels fine, he actually really wants some pie right now."
"What kind of pie?" you ask, trying not to laugh. "Apple pie? Pumpkin pie? How about Key Lime pie?"
Peter looks over at you, giving you a drunk sort of look. "Do I look that stupid to you? Actually don't answer that, but gurl, I want math pies. You know the 3.145965 number number more numbers. OH WAIT where's Y/N, oh lord where is she."
"Peter, honey, I'm right here, holding your hand," you tell him, squeezing his hand again.
The boy gave you a questionable look, "are you sure you're Y/N? Because you seem really pretty, like really pretty."
Your face flared up a bit, no, he's just on the funny drugs. "Peter, I'm still the same Y/N from before."
"No, but you seem like really pretty today, especially with your hair as loose and wavy and your ripped jeans just ARGH so beautiful." The way Peter gushed about you made you blush even more, but he's not himself, he's just, making things up.
You sigh, looking up at Peter, "how about I get you home, we can watch Star Wars, like I promised, and I can make you some food of your choice. How does that sound?"
Peter looked back at you in disbelief, "but I don't have a tongue, so how can I eat food?"
"You have a tongue."
His eyes widened with shock, just like he would when he sees a dog on the street. "No, but how could I! I don't feel it, and-and I'm tired. I'm just gonna take a small nap."
You laugh at his childish behavior, "Peter, you can sleep back at your apartment. But right now, I think I need to give you a new gauze or something, then we have to travel back on the subway."
"Noooo," Peter whines, "I want to sleep now. Why do cats get to sleep whenever they want and I don't!"
"Peter, you are a teenage boy not a cat," you giggle while reaching over to the counter to grab the gauzes. "Now I'm going to need you to take the gauzes out of your mouth, or just spit them out, and possibly put new ones in, I really don't want to stick my fingers in your mouth."
"I wouldn't really mind it," you hear Peter quietly mumble to himself. You lift up the small trash can next to the dentist chair and Peter slowly spits out the bloody pieces of cotton into the bucket. Gross. Peter holds out his hand, waiting for the gauzes, which you respectfully gave them to him. At first, he struggled a bit getting the cotton pieces into his mouth, resulting him into almost choking on the cotton. He gave you the biggest puppy dog eyes and sad face at the same time, trying to get you to help him.
"Peter, I don't want to touch your bloody mouth! And you cute eyes are not going to work on me," you said, looking away from the poor boy. A couple seconds pass in complete silence, or that Peter couldn't physically talk, but you peeled over at him, still giving you sad eyes. "Peter, I've cleaned your cuts, helped you out with bruises and black eyes, but this, this is just at the bottom of the list of things we don't ever talk about."
After a lot of struggling and some blood here and there, you finally led Peter out of the dentist office to go back to his apartment. Luckily, the subway had a lost less people than before, making it easier to control and monitor the boy.
Just when the two of you almost got back, something went wrong, or at least Peter caused it. On the elevator, you pushed level 8, and Peter touched everything else. So every time you guys went up a level, the elevator stopped completely, than it had to restart again. You were not happy while Peter was acting like a child through the entire "ride".
"Thank god May gave me the keys," you quietly mumble to yourself as you opened up the apartment door to the Parker residence. You led Peter the couch to sit on, but he just sadly sunk into it and fell off to the side. "You want anything, Peter? Soup, water, a blanket?"
Instead of an answer, Peter let out a whiny scream into a pillow.
"Sorry, didn't quite get that."
"That's because I screamed, but I want snuggles and Star Wars and-and stuff." Peter whines again.
He's not going to remember any of it, so do it now before you regret anything.
You left the living room to Peter's room to collect pajamas for Peter, blankets, Star Wars DVDs, and a pillow. When you returned to the living room, Peter sat there with a confused look on his face.
"Do you think that if I asked Mr. Stark for an internship, would be give it to me? Or will I have to fight him for it, because come on, I am the best Avenger on the team!" Peter exclaims, looking over at you for backup.
You shook your head, handing Peter his pajamas and set the pillow and blanket next to him. "You already are on the team, sort of, you never explained it well and I don't think Mr. Stark could either. But I am going to go grab some cookies from the kitchen and you better be in your pajamas when I'm back." You chuckle at yourself for sounding so much like a mom when you left him. There was shuffling sounds coming from the other room, and a little "ouch" coming from Peter.
"I'm good, I'm good, sort of!" He shouts in your direction. Peter laughs himself, causing himself to get into a giggle fit. You wander back to where you left Peter, who appears on the ground with only his pajama pants on. "Wah? It was too much work to get my shirt back on, and besides, I'm too hot." Peter says, striking a pose at the end of his protest.
You sat down on the ground next to Peter's head, since he didn't even bother getting up off the ground. You put in A New Hope into the DVD player and placed a blanket over your legs from being cold. Peter scooted towards you, laying his head down on your lap, wanting attention. It was purposeful for attention, he kept running his fingers up and down you leg and his head turned every so often to look at something new.
That was until you begun playing with his hair. Peter settled down almost immediately and fell asleep.
"My poor, poor little chipmunk boy."
I'm trying so hard to imagine an imagine for Christmas time, but I WONT STOP LISTENING TO THE GREATEST SHOWMAN ALBUM
besides, finals are coming up and I'm like
no thank you