Healing // p.p.

pinecovewoods:

Obviously, when Peter Parker gets bit by a spider and then develops freaking superpowers, he has to tell someone.

The first person that comes to mind is Ned, but that boy can’t keep his mouth shut for a million dollars and this is something that needs remain a secret.

The next person that pops into his head is Y/N, causing a smile to appear on his face. Yeah, he’ll tell her.

When he does, she’s not as surprised as he thought she would be.

“I knew as soon as I saw the videos on youtube,” she smiles, “when he – you – started cheering for yourself and did the whole flip thing I knew it was you.”

Peter’s mouth forms into an impressed half smile as he sits on her bed.

“Maybe I can help you,” Y/N says, “patch you up when you get injured, I’m half way decent at basic medical stuff and I can study up a bit more.”

“Really?” He smiles again. “That would be great.”

And so she does, every bruise and scrape gets some sort of attention from her and as the weeks progress she becomes well versed in any medical procedures he might need.

It’s usually just cuts and bruises, a couple of cut lips and black eyes here and there. Things progressively get worse, she has to start reading up on setting broken bones and even stitching up deep cuts.

She still remembers the first time he comes to her window with broken fingers, Peter almost biting through the pillow she gave him to keep him muffled as she fixes him up.

“What did you do, punch a brick wall or something?” She asks in a whisper, handing him a glass of water and some pain pills.

“Yeah,” he groans lowly, “something like that.”

“They’ll heal, but it’s gonna hurt for a while,” she shakes her head, smoothing his hair back off his forehead, “you need to be more careful mister.”

He smiles, nodding his head.

“I’ll do my best,” he replies, “you’re gonna be a good nurse someday.”

“Oh please,” Y/N rolls her eyes, “I already am.”

“How’s your hand?” She asks a few days later during a chem lab, a hint of a smile on her face.

“Healing,” he replies, shrugging, “at least it’s my left.”

“What’d you tell May?” Y/N asks.

“That I fell down the stairs,” he says with a light laugh, “she told me that I need to learn to walk again.”

“You should probably come up with a better excuse.”

It’s cliché really, the way he fell for her. They’ve been best friends for nearly ten years and it takes superpowers and fighting bad guys for him to realize that she’s everything he wants in a girlfriend. The way she cares about him, the way she fusses over every scrape he could possibly get on a day to day basis, the way she’s so accepting of everything he does as Spiderman.

God how could I have not realized how perfect she is?

A few months later Y/N’s reading is interrupted by a knock on the window, a bloody and bruised Peter kneeling on the fire escape.

“Oh my god Peter,” she breathes after she opens the panel, helping him inside as painlessly as she can.

“Are your parents home?” He asks through a groan, practically falling onto the bed.

Y/N shakes her head, grabbing her first aid kit out of her closet.

“Business trip, til Monday,” she replies, sitting next to him.

“Good,” he replies, throwing his mask onto the floor, “‘cause I don’t think I’ll be able to stay quiet tonight.”

“Can you get your suit off?” She questions, digging through her supplies for anything she deems necessary.

Peter nods, pressing the middle of his suit to expand it and sliding it down his body.

“If you wanted to see me shirtless you could’ve just asked,” he tries to joke, “I would’ve happily obliged.”

“Only you could make jokes at a time like this,” she shakes her head, pulling a stethoscope she bought about a month and a half into helping Peter, rubbing the end with her hand, “this is gonna be cold but I need to know if your ribs are broken or not.”

The warning barely helps, he still hisses loudly when she presses the end to his chest, pain shooting through his body as he fists her sheets in his hands.

“I know, I know,” she whispers, swallowing, “I’m sorry. How deep can you breathe in?”

Peter sucks in a breath, stopping when the pain becomes unbearable.

“Good good,” Y/N smiles, moving the device off his chest and back onto the table, nodding, “if anything, they’re bruised, not broken. And your lungs aren’t hurt, that’s another good thing. What else is bad?”

“My shoulder,” he replies through gritted teeth, “it kills.”

“Okay,” she nods, using her fingers to probe the area, stopping as soon as Peter practically yells out in pain.

She nods again, her suspicions confirmed.

“Dislocated,” she says, biting down on her lip in contemplation, “how are your legs?”

“What?” He furrows his eyebrows. “Sore, but okay, why?”

“I need a better angle,” Y/N replies, straddling his legs with hers on either side of his.

If he hadn’t been in so much pain he probably would’ve died from the position they were now in. The girl pulls her hair up into a pony tail, taking in a deep breath.

“This is gonna hurt Pete,” she says, swallowing roughly, “like a lot. But I need to relocate it or else it could get a whole lot worse.”

Peter nods, already squeezing his eyes shut as she places her hands on his shoulder.

She’s pretty sure people all the way in New Jersey can hear his scream as she fixed his shoulder, her hands running through his hair to help calm him down.

“That was good, you did so good,” she whispers, tilting his face towards hers as she smiles, “I’m so proud of you.”

Peter gives her as much of a smile as he can muster, the pain lessening a bit. He watches as she not so subtly wipes away a tear, his eyebrows furrowing in concern.

“Why are you crying angel?” He asks quietly, the pet name rolling off of his tongue before he can catch it.

“I’m okay,” the girl says quietly, pushing his hair off of his forehead.

She brings her hand up to clean off the blood coming from one of his smaller cuts, and its then that Peter sees the shakiness running through her body.

Peter pulls her arm down, staring at her with worry.

“Y/N,” he says, “angel, please, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I,” her breath hitches, trying to stop herself from crying, “I hate seeing you hurt, Peter. I know I said I would help you with your injuries and I don’t want to stop doing that but I just…seeing you like this, god it kills me.”

Peter pulls her into his chest, cradling the girl and ignoring the pain as her head rests against him.

“I know it’s scary,” he says quietly, “I know that it was bad today, but I saved someone’s life, and to me that’s worth it,” he strokes the girl’s hair comfortingly, trying his best to resist the urge to kiss her, “I’m sorry I dragged you into this, I’m sorry that I can’t be a better superhero and that I have to come to you for this stu-”

“No, no,” she cuts him off, shaking her head, “you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to apologize. Never, ever apologize for doing things like this, you got it?”

Peter swallows, nodding his head as he stares at the girl still sitting on his lap. Suddenly, a switch flips, and he can’t hold himself back.

He places his fingers under her chin, deciding that if she shows the slightest bit of hesitation he’ll stop but until then he’s going for it. He leans in, and, unbeknownst to him, she does the same. Their lips press against each others soon enough, Peter swearing that his chest is going to break from the inside out with how hard his heart is beating at the feeling. It’s as if time slows, Peter cupping Y/N’s cheek as they kiss.

This is happening, oh my god this is actually happening.

The teens pull apart, but only barely, faces still close together as they breath heavy.

“Hey,” she whispers breathlessly.

“Hi,” he replies the same way, barely keeping his eyes off of her lips.

She kisses him again, this time it’s her hand on his face and he’s left following her lead, not that he’s complaining.

“Sorry,” the girl says as she pulls back, “couldn’t help myself.”

“You never have to be sorry about kissing me,” he shakes his head, “literally never.”

“You know this isn’t gonna help me not worry about you,” Y/N says, running her fingers gently through the front of his hair, “might even make it worse.”

“Don’t care,” he mumbles, “the pain is worth it if I have you to come home to.”

Peter swears he’s never seen her face more red than after those words came out of his mouth.

“Oh god I must be killing your ribs,” she rushes, pushing herself up off the boys chest.

“Nuh uh, you’re not leaving,” he says, pulling her back into the original position with his chin now on top of her head, “I can feel myself healing already.”

“Peter, you’re in pain.”

“I’d rather be in pain a little longer if it means I get to have you here in my arms.”