It's December, and things are finally starting to pull together.
College has just wrapped up for the holidays, so instead of having to slog your way through hours of studying a day, you've had ample opportunity to catch up on the important things in life: friends, sleep and baking so many Christmas cookies that your apartment now permanently smells of sweet cinnamon. Work is also going well: your part-time job at a local café has just been rewarded with a convenient pay-rise and special holiday bonus, so you've got some extra money rolling around your bank account. Your social life has been thriving after making some incredible friends on your course and growing closer to your co-workers, and things with Peter have also been incredible- no, truly spectacular.
Ever since your near-death experience, things have shifted. Instead of being worried over when the feelings of love will come to you, you've just relaxed and enjoyed your boyfriend's company. Holiday season with the brown-eyed man is all you could ever ask for, and so far, it's shaping up pretty damned well.
So it's the 24th of December, and you're walking home with heavy bags weighing down your arms. The last-minute Christmas shop was brilliantly rewarding, and now all you need to do is wrap up some presents before sleeping and then heading to Peter's in the morning to celebrate with him. You find yourself humming a happy tune as you turn the corner to the final block, your head happily swimming as a result of a warm mulled wine, but feel your jaw slacken when your eyes fall on the scene in front of you:
Your apartment building is surrounded by fire engines, with deep dangerous flames licking the walls. Billowing smoke fills the sky, painting the blue a dark smoggy black, and the air is full of screams and sirens.
A deep gasp rumbles up your throat as you quickly jog forward, eyes wide as you take in the carnage. The busy sounds of phones ringing and people crying and sirens whirring send you into a daze as you watch people being escorted out of the building, and a quick glance up confirms that the fire has spread to your floor. Hell, you think you can even see smoke flooding out of the flat beside yours.
"Ma'am, I'm going to have to get you to move back." There's a weight on your shoulder as a firefighter gently moves you back, and you realise you've drifted across a big white line printed on the ground. You mutter a quick apology and scoot back, your hand drifting for your phone. You pull it out of your pocket and glance down at the screen, shivering as you see the messages of worry sent from half your contacts.
MJ: Girl!!! Please tell me you're not in that building!!!
May: Building on fire!! Hope you're still out shopping but if u aren't please be safe xxxxx
Peter: Pretty sure you'll still be out but let me know please
Peter: Gonna go get involved
Peter: Will come find you after
Legs weak, you sit down on a bench and quickly respond to the messages, tears blurring your eyes. You watch as the fire is brought under control, and manage to catch a glimpse of the familiar blue and grey suit swinging around, but even that isn't enough to shift the weight from your heart.
People begin to clear as you wait it out, not having anywhere else to go. You see your landlord talking with a camera crew, explaining how it'd been a gas leak and a lit candle that had caused the fire to start a floor above your place, and how he was grateful no human casualties had occurred. That being said, the structural integrity of the building was severely weakened, so there was no chance it would be fit for human habitation any time soon.
You can't help but cry a little. That apartment had been yours for half a year; it'd been your first place - an apartment you'd come to know as home - and the fact that it now lays in ruin along with all your earthly possessions is difficult to stomach. Everything you love was up there: important things, like photos of you with your loved ones, books and clothes you'd owned your whole life, but also smaller, more sentimental items, like your favourite pair of pyjamas and your special reindeer cookie cutters.
"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.
You sit back on the chair and feel your shoulders relax.
Peter's beside you, scrolling through his phone as the light from the screen illuminates his face, giving it a weird eerie glow. But still his features are sharp, and you find your mind wandering as a sudden trip down memory lane hits you.
You remember the first time you heard his voice, all those months ago, when you'd been mugged and he'd stopped to help you. You remember the way your hand had tingled as he'd helped to pull you off the ground, and how you'd felt your heart finally wake after an eternity of silent slumber. Those excited butterflies are still alive now, still present in your heart whenever you feel his touch on your skin.
And then that first date. The meeting in the coffee shop, and the way you'd had to wait in anxious torment for your soulmate to turn up. That surprise when he'd come and revealed himself to you, and trusted you with his most important secret. Then the way your relationship had spun into life following that: all the dates and important moments: gaining orange, green, purple and pink, and feeling like your life was finally pulling together.
And after that, the rockier patches. Feeling like you couldn't give him what he needed, but him understanding and waiting for you. The pressure to reciprocate everything fading away, replaced by care and relaxation. And that awful, terrible night when you almost died, only for Peter to pull through and save you. Then everything since: the further intertwinement of your hearts, the budding feelings starting to grow into something more, something deeper, and the knowing in your bones that your world is almost complete.
Peter isn't your life, but he makes it brighter. You weren't half a person before him, and you know if anything ever goes wrong and you end up alone, you won't be half a person without him. He is your soulmate, he is your perfect match, and he complements you like no other, but he not your entire world. He is just the part of it that makes everything else worth it.
He makes the mornings worth rolling out of bed for, and the long days of studying rewarding when you settle into his arms afterwards. His warm body and gentle words and soft caresses set you on fire, and you don't think you'll ever be able to get enough.
He is it. He is your soulmate. He is The One. And...
"Mistletoe," he mumbles suddenly. He picks the branch off the table and grins slyly back at you, waving it in the air just above your heads. "Gotta kiss me now, baby."
You swallow down the lump in your throat as you grin. "No complaints over here," you say, trying to keep your voice even. You lean in, gloved fingers pressing to his cheeks as you kiss him deeply, feeling his own tangle into your hair as he makes a happy sound of contentment. You kiss and kiss and kiss until everything seems to blur away, and when you finally pull back, his fingers push a strand of hair from your face and that's when you know.
You love him.
God, you love him with everything you have.
And red doesn't roll across your world, because it won't until you say the words and he says them back, but in the moment you don't care. All you know is that you're looking at him, eyes meeting the sparkling depths of brown you've grown so familiar with, and you're thanking every cosmic entity in existence for bringing you both together.
"Are you okay?" He mumbles quietly. You hands drift down from his face and settle on your lap, only to be picked up by his fingers.
"Yeah." The smile that spreads over your face makes your cheeks ache.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Because I-"
Suddenly the fireworks are shooting off into the sky, and you curse lowly as you're interrupted. A flicker of annoyance finds his face too, but that soon fades when he catches your eye and beckons you closer. You move to him, straddling his lap, and your hands wrap around his shoulders as you watch the sky burst with light around you, lit up by almost every colour.
The moment is special, and despite having your tongue dying to spill the three words you feel so strongly, you enjoy the show. It'd be hard not to, really, with Peter's lips stealing quick kisses every few seconds. You nestle into him, being held completely, and you watch through half-closed eyes as his face becomes covered in different hues: yellows and oranges and pinks, greens and blues and purples. His brown eyes sparkle in the light, and you realise you've never been more in love with anyone in your life.
The sounds fade out after about five minutes, and it's time. You sit up, still straddling him, and let your hands rest on each of his shoulders as you peer at him nervously.
"Pete," you begin, suddenly unsure about how to say it. "I, uh, I need to tell you something."
His eyes round with concern as his head tilts to the side. "What's wrong?" He asks, hand settling on your cheek, fingers caressing your cheekbones. "Baby?"
But then the fog clears, and you know exactly what needs to be said.
"Before I met you, I didn't know what having a soulmate would be like. I thought maybe it'd feel forced, or wrong, or- or weird to have someone just like me. But I was completely wrong about all of that, because you... You aren't like me at all." You pause to contemplate your words, grinning a little. "You are the most selfless person I know. But you're also incredibly stubborn, and grouchy in the mornings, and get insanely worked up over shows I don't watch." His lips fold into a pout, and you giggle quietly. "But it's all endearing, and I love all those things about you. What I'm trying to say is that you came into my life and turned in completely upside down. It's not every day you get your phone returned by a superhero, let alone one that turns out to be your soulmate, but there isn't a moment goes by that I'm not happy that that guy decided to try and mug me. Because I- I, uh."
It's hard to talk with his eyes watching you like that, glistening with emotion. And it takes his free hand linking with yours and squeezing your palm for you to find the words to finish.
"I love you, Peter Parker. I'm in love with you."
And then you're reaching up to brush away a tear from his cheek, your heartbeat ringing in your ears as you wait for his response, needing more than his widening smile.
"I love you too, Y/N," he returns, blinking slowly. "I love you so much."
And it's at that point that the firework show returns with the big finale: a series of deep reddish hues painting the sky as it lights with deep explosions, the sounds barely making a dent compared to the sparks racing through your body. Because his mouth is on yours, and despite knowing the brightest colour of them all is blooming over the sky behind you, all you care about is Peter.
When the show dies down and the kissing ends, it's just you and Peter, tucked away on his balcony, your bodies intertwined. And something feels different inside your heart; it finally feels free, finally beating properly, finally warm and healthy and bright. And it's all down to him.
It's been an adventure, getting to know him. And whilst you were wholly content with your life in black and white, now that you've gained all the colours - now that your life is alight with the vibrant colours of the rainbow - everything is better. Like the delicate bud of a flower, meeting Peter has caused your life to bloom.
"Move in with me," he asks quietly. "Please. I'd love to have you here." He nods along to his own words, the loose curly strands of his hair shifting in the light midnight breeze.
You nod immediately, no hesitation to be found. "Okay," you reply. Your cheeks quirk into a new smile as you fix your arms around his head, hugging his neck gently. "I love you."
His lips touch your forehead, "I love you." Then your left cheek, "I love you." And the right, "I love you." And your eyelids, and nose, and chin, "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you." And then your mouth.
You're the one to mumble it against his lips, grinning as your heart warms in your chest. "I love you."
FINIS.