Peter Parker Imagines

39. Excuse My French - Part Eight

A/N: well thank god this didn't go over eight parts lmao! I hope you guys liked this series and thanks to everyone who helped fixed my mistakes in translating and writing in french! my next series will be a soulmate au but I'm hoping to post a few oneshots before :D thanks again for waiting so long, hopefully with winter break coming I should have more time!

Warnings: Angst, Language, Feels

Peter really couldn't believe how much of an idiot he had been lately.

All he thought about as he swung after the sirens was your face when he said you were important to him. He had watched as your nose scrunched up like it did when you were either offended by something or completely baffled.

I have not felt like I was important to you in a while.

Idiot. Idiot.

And then the look on your face when he had to leave. The disappointment was bad but mostly the fact that you didn't look mad that he had to leave, you looked like you had expected to be let down. He had been so distracted lately that he hadn't even realized he was shutting you out so much. 

He knew he put distance up, he knew he had put up a wall between you two since the day Ben was killed, but he thought you would want that after he ended it. But now it evolved into something that was clearly hurting you, which was the last thing he wanted, but obviously he messed up somewhere.

"Idiot," he muttered it out loud this time, shooting another web and getting closer to the sirens. He could see the police cars now, trying to look ahead to whatever they were going towards. Whatever it was, he hoped it wouldn't take long.

He wanted to get back to you as soon as he could.

Reading wasn't helping you get distracted.

All you wanted was one moment where you weren't thinking about Peter - where you weren't wondering if he was hurt, or if he was already done fighting bad guys and decided not to come back, or if he had simply forgotten, or-

An urgent tapping made you jolt, dropping your book and losing your page. You didn't care, just tossing the book on a chair as you jumped up from your bed, staring wide-eyed at the window.

"If you took a picture, it'd last longer," Peter said jokingly, but his voice was strained. You didn't need a medical degree to tell that he was seriously messed up - the cuts along his mask-free face were enough to show that much.

You hurried to open the window, glad you left it unlocked - that lock always seemed to budge - and immediately he fell against you, causing you to let out a gasp of surprise as you tried not to fall over under his weight.

"Idiot," you muttered, helping him ease down onto your bed. He chuckled to himself when he remembered calling himself that earlier, ignoring the strange look you gave him when he did. You rushed to get a first aid kit that your mother had luckily tucked into a cabinet in your bathroom, then came and sat on the bed next to Peter.

"Why did you come back?" You asked as you fumbled with the first aid kit, your hands shaking despite you trying not to. 

"You didn't want me to?" He asked with a slight groan, hoping the hurt in his tone wasn't obvious.

"Well, I said you could come back so we could talk, but I didn't mean if you were gonna bleed out on my bed," you grumbled, finally managing to get some supplied out.