#protective!peter

The bell above the café door jingled as Peter stepped inside, but the warmth of the space didn't reach him.

He shouldn't have been here. He shouldn't have followed you.

But he had.

And now, staring at the back of the coffee shop with his hands shoved in his hoodie pockets, Peter watched you laugh - really laugh - across the table from someone who wasn't him. Someone who didn't flake on plans, who didn't vanish for days at a time with nothing but a vague apology and bruised knuckles as an excuse.

You weren't his. He had no claim. He'd never said a word about how he felt. But as he watched you push your hair behind your ear and lean into conversation with a smile he hadn't seen in weeks, something burned in his chest.

Jealousy.

He didn't mean to interrupt - but the moment the guy got up for the restroom, Peter's feet were already moving.

"Didn't know you were seeing someone," he said, trying to sound casual as he approached your table.

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Peter? What are you doing here?"

"Just passing by." A lie. "Didn't realize you were dating."

Your expression shifted, wary. "I was on a date, yeah."

"And?" The question escaped before he could stop it.

You tilted your head. "And what?"

Peter rubbed the back of his neck, guilt already starting to gnaw at him. "You shouldn't be with him."

There was a pause.

"Excuse me?"

"He's not right for you," Peter said quickly, stumbling over his words. "You deserve-"

You cut him off with a quiet, disbelieving laugh. "Are you serious right now?"

"I know I don't have the right to say anything," Peter said, voice tight. "But seeing you with him - seeing anyone with you - I just..."

You crossed your arms. "You just what, Peter?"

He stared at you, heart racing. And then, with a breathless kind of courage, he took the leap.

"I love you."

The silence that followed was deafening.

You blinked. "You don't get to do this."

"What?"

"You don't get to ignore me for weeks, make me feel invisible, and then drop this on me the second I start moving on."

Peter stepped forward. "I didn't mean-"

"Do you even mean it?" you asked, your voice trembling. "Or do you just hate the idea of someone else loving me when you're too scared to?"

"I mean it," he whispered.

You searched his face for the truth. And when you found it - hidden behind guilt and fear and longing - you took a breath and said, "Then prove it."

Peter froze. "I - I don't know how."

"Then figure it out," you snapped. "Because I'm done playing guessing games. Either prove it, or I'm walking away."

Peter's voice cracked. "I know I've screwed up. I know I can't make this easy. But I love you. And I don't want to lose you."

"One condition," you said, your voice soft but stern. "If you want a second chance, you tell me the truth. No more disappearing, no more dodging questions. You want me? Be honest with me."

Peter hesitated - then nodded.

"I'm Spider-Man," he said, the words falling like stones.

You stared at him, stunned. "Peter - why didn't you tell me sooner? You think I can't take care of myself? I live in New York, I've been taking self-defense longer than I've had a driver's license."

He laughed, relieved and still breathless. "Okay, fair point. You're probably tougher than me."

You crossed your arms, but your expression softened. "So, what now?"

He smiled, tentative but hopeful. "Now? Now I take you on a date. And I start making up for every time I let you down."

A short while later, you sat together on a rooftop, sharing a stolen hotdog and the city skyline. The lights of New York shimmered below you, but Peter only had eyes for you.

"So," he asked, nudging your knee, "does this make up for some of the damage?"

You smiled, leaning into his side. "Almost."

He grinned. "Guess that means I've got some wooing to do."

Then, you teased, "Well, you could kiss me. That'd probably seal the deal."

Peter flushed, but leaned in anyway, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss that said all the things he never could. It was warm, tender, and real.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours. "That was definitely the icing on the cake. Do I get full points now?"

You laughed, your voice soft. "Yeah, Peter. Perfect date."

He beamed. "So... you're still up for dating your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man?"

You nodded. "Trust me, Pete. I'm right here."

Once Stiles had come to a pack meeting, hurt and still bleeding and shaking all over, and Scott had looked at him once, before he asked how he always managed to get himself into these situations.

Stiles almost wanted to laugh at that because he also got himself out of these situations since Scott didn’t seem to care enough to go look for Stiles and come to his rescue.

Peter had slinked up to him in the kitchen that day, stepped between Stiles and the pack in the living room and leaned in close.

“If you would let me, I would take care of whoever did this to you,” Peter whispered, gently stroking his fingertips over Stiles’ busted cheek, drawing the pain out in the process.

The offer was—tempting, to say the least. Scott never dealt with the people who had hurt Stiles. He promised to hunt them down and deal with them, to chase them out of town and make sure that they could never hurt anyone and especially Stiles ever again, on the scarce moments he realized Stiles had been hurt at all, but nothing ever happened.

Stiles had seen the hunters in town who had gotten their hands on Stiles this time, just days after they had kidnapped Stiles and beat the shit out of him before he managed to escape; days after Scott had promised to deal with them and it had thrown Stiles right into a panic attack.

When Stiles had confronted Scott about it, Scott had blinked his puppy eyes at him and promised him that he had talked to them, had made sure that they knew never to do anything like that ever again.

Stiles had stared at him for a few seconds, before he left, too worked up to even talk to Scott anymore.

Stiles had been taken two more times since that time, times Scott hadn’t even noticed that Stiles had been missing for more than half a day. It had been Stiles’ dad, both times, who came to Stiles’ rescue, using plain old police work to find him. Whereas the so-called true alpha couldn’t even be bothered to realize his best friend was missing, or god forbid, put his werewolf senses to some goddamn use.

And now, now Stiles was yet again beat and covered in his own blood, shaking so much he was afraid his knees would just give out on him. He had gotten himself out of the warehouse, after taking beatings for almost a day, and Scott had been nowhere in sight.

Which was the reason why Stiles was weakly knocking at Peter’s door right now. His place had been closest to where Stiles had been held, but he also still heard Peter’s low voice, felt his whispered promise against his skin, promising him to keep him safe, if only Stiles would let him.

And Stiles was ready to let him, now.

Peter opened the door quicker than Stiles had expected, too used to Scott taking his sweet time reacting to Stiles, and Peter’s eyes flared blue when he looked Stiles up and down.

“Who do I kill?” Peter calmly asked, but Stiles could hear the growl at the edges of his words, could still see the supernatural glow in his eyes, and Stiles just slumped forward, leaning against Peter’s chest, forehead pressed to the hollow of his throat.

Peter didn’t seem to care that Stiles got blood all over his nice shirt, and instead place a hand gently on the back of Stiles’ neck, drawing the pain out of him.

“I don’t know who they are,” Stiles whispered, desperation licking up his spine.

If Peter couldn’t find them, couldn’t keep Stiles safe, then Stiles wouldn’t know what to do. This had been his hope, always in the back of his head, that Peter could do what Scott hadn’t been able to do, and Stiles was quickly steering into a panic attack again, desperately gripping at Peter’s shirt.

“That’s alright, darling, shhh,” Peter soothed him. “I’m gonna find them anyway.”

Stiles trembled in his arms, too relieved by what Peter said, and Peter continued to soothe him.

“Do you want to stay here, or do you want to go home?” Peter carefully asked, and Stiles felt his breath hitch in his throat.

He imagined waiting here for Peter to come back, hurt and alone in an apartment he didn’t know, and Stiles couldn’t stand that thought.

“Home, I want to go home,” he pleaded, and Peter immediately bundled him up in one of his many designer jackets, steering him towards his car without any comment.

Stiles apparently drifted off during the ride, because he startled badly when Peter suddenly stopped the car in front of his house. Peter must have called his dad, too, because John was standing on the porch, clearly waiting for them.

“What happened?” he asked as he walked up to Stiles’ side of the car and he pulled Stiles close, inspecting his wounds before he looked over to Peter, who hadn’t stepped away from the car.

“Don’t know, don’t care, but I’m going to handle it” Peter replied, sliding back behind the wheel.

Stiles could feel how his dad sucked in a sharp breath and he tensed in his arms. His dad knew what Peter was going to do and if he disapproved of that, Stiles was sure he would just shatter right here on the porch. This was the first time someone had acted with the clear intent do finally do something and if his dad stopped Peter now, Stiles would just break down.

“Be careful,” John said in a normal tone, clearly counting on the fact that Peter could still hear him, and the easy acceptance brought tears to Stiles’ eyes.

“Come on, kiddo,” John said and gently steered Stiles towards the house and immediately into the bathroom.

John had been on a double shift, so it was no wonder he hadn’t noticed yet that Stiles had been missing, but Stiles and Scott were supposed to meet like five hours ago, and clearly Scott hadn’t thought it to be strange at all when Stiles hadn’t shown up. He hadn’t even thought to call Stiles’ dad and inquire where he was, despite Stiles’ more than horrible track record.

“I’m so sorry,” Stiles said on the stairs, breath catching in his throat again, and his dad hugged him tightly once they reached the bathroom.

“No reason to be,” he whispered, before he sat Stiles’ down on the toilet seat and got the things he needed to clean out Stiles’ wounds.

“Don’t you think you should go to the hospital?” John softly asked when he saw the dark bruises on Stiles’ chest but Stiles shook his head so hard his vision blurred.

“No! Melissa will tell Scott and he’ll be disappointed,” Stiles got out and John frowned at him.

“Kiddo, do you even realize how that sounds?” he asked but Stiles couldn’t talk about this, couldn’t think about this anymore.

He just wanted to feel safe, whished he would get enough down time between kidnappings for his injuries to fully heal up before new ones were being added for once, and he looked down at his hands.

“Can I go to bed?” he asked, and John immediately agreed, thank god.

“Sure. Come here, I’ll get you something soft to sleep in,” he said after he’d wrapped Stiles’ ribs.

His dad quickly got him settled into bed, but Stiles felt too tense, too strung up to sleep, expecting to toss and turn all night, but he woke up with a start when he heard voices outside of his room. It was still dark outside and his head was still throbbing painfully, so Stiles couldn’t have been asleep for very long.

“You couldn’t have cleaned up before dropping by?” Stiles heard his dad ask with a sigh.

“He needs to see it to believe,” Peter immediately replied, and Stiles sat up in his bed, leaning forward in anticipation of Peter coming into his room.

When he finally did, Stiles momentarily forgot how to breathe. Peter’s hands were caked with blood, going up almost to his forearms, and Stiles spotted blood on Peter’s expensive shirt as well. There was blood on his face too, and Stiles had seen enough crime shows, not to mention stole glances at his dad’s files, to know that it was an arterial spray he was looking at.

Peter stood perfectly still, letting Stiles look his fill and Stiles could feel the tears spilling over.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he brokenly whispered again and again, sob after sob rattling his frame and Peter was there, gathering him close.

Stiles didn’t even care about the blood, felt strangely relieved when he felt it stick to his own shirt, and he gripped Peter tightly, afraid to let him go again.

“You’re safe now,” Peter mumbled into his hair, stroking his hand up and down Stiles’ back.

Stiles continued to sob in Peter’s arms, and Peter never once made Stiles believe that it was an imposition on him. Stiles heard his father come in once, but he felt too warm and protected in Peter’s arms to care about that.

“Don’t let them take me again,” Stiles pleaded eventually, when his tears were all dried up.

“I can’t promise that, Stiles,” Peter softly told him, and Stiles felt small and helpless, fear gripping at his heart again. “But I promise that I will always come for you, that I will always find you. And I will always kill whoever dared to lay a hand on you,” Peter quickly went on, immediately promising him that.

Stiles squeezed him even tighter at that. Stiles knew that Peter would make good on his promise, too, unlike Scott who had brushed Stiles off again and again.

“Come on, sweetheart, it’s time to sleep,” Peter eventually said, and guided Stiles back down on his bed.

“Don’t leave,” Stiles whispered. “Don’t leave me.”

He wasn’t sure if he would feel safe without Peter, if he could still believe that the people who had hurt him were dead when Peter wasn’t there anymore to remind him, but Stiles shouldn’t have worried.

Peter only stepped away far enough to tug his shirt over his head, grabbing one Stiles’ dad obviously had left for hm, before he toed off his shoes and then stepped back to Stiles’ bed.

“You want me stay on the chair?” Peter asked, and it seemed like a sincere offer, too.

But it felt wrong, banning Peter to the chair, and so instead Stiles lifted his blanket, inviting Peter in, without actually saying it.

Peter didn’t hesitate at all, sliding under the covers before pulling Stiles close. Stiles easily went with the motion, fisting his hands into Peter’s shirt once more.

“Thank you,” Stiles whispered again, struggling with the gratitude that threatened to overwhelm him.

“For you, always,” Peter immediately replied, starting up a soothing rumbling in his chest that Stiles quickly fell asleep to, still lingering pains eased by Peter’s hand on his nape, black veins crawling up his arms.

Within a blink of an eye your location was filled with aliens, you were surrounded in seconds, you attempted to fight off as many as you could but it was no use, you were outnumbered and alone. 

They quickly over powered you, while you were screaming into your com that your location had been compromised and that you needed backup asap. You heard Steve shouting into the com that he was on his way, but by the time he arrived they were already gone, and you were laying on the ground, clutching your stomach in pain.

“Shit! Y/N! Are you okay?” Steve rushed over to you, eyes wide as he observed where there was a red stain. “Oh god… Y/N’s been hit!” Steve shouted into the com’s, his eyes filled with panic when he saw your face scrunch up in pain.

“We’re going to get you out of here Y/N, hold on.” Steve tried to comfort you, pressing his own hands on your stomach to try to help the bleeding stop.

Within a few moments Tony arrived, carefully scooping you up and flying back to the avengers tower, handing you over to the nurses who were already there ready to help you.

Tony watched you get carried off into the emergency room, before the doors shut, cutting off access. He knew you were strong, that you’d get through this, because you weren’t a quitter, you were a fighter.

It was now twelve hours later, the avengers were able to defeat the aliens, and were now in the tower waiting to hear the news about you. All their heads shot up when they heard footsteps approaching them.

“Well?” Clint asked, watching the nurse intently as she gave a soft smile.

“Y/N’s going to be just fine.” The nurse revealed, the entire room letting out a sigh of relief, especially Peter.

He was the one who felt the most grief of them all, he had promised you that he’d protect you, to be your partner, to be by your side no matter what, and what did he do? He left you.

“When can we see Y/N?” Peter blurted out, his voice small and quiet as the nurse looked at him, seeing his grief stricken face.

“You can visit now if you’d like.” She offered, and within seconds Peter was up and off to your room. He knocked a few times, earning a faint ‘come in’ before opening the door, his eyes landing on your frail figure.

“Peter.. Hey..” You smiled, as he approached your bed, a sad smile on his face as he took your hand in his. 

“I’m so so sorry Y/N, I-I shouldn’t have left you, if I hadn’t none of this.. none of this would have ever happened.” Peter vented out, his voice hoarse as he tried to hold back his tears.

“Hey.. Hey look at me Peter.. This would of happened either way, there was too many of them.. and honestly I’m glad it was only me there.. if something had happened to you too.. I don’t know what I’d of done.” You admitted, biting your lip as you looked up into his honey brown eyes.

He felt his face flush at you words, his heart beating a bit more rapidly than before. 

“I promise I’ll protect you from now on, no matter what.” 

A week has passed, you’ve healed a good amount in that period of time, still however shaken up about being stabbed, but at least you were able to maneuver your way around the tower. 

Peter on the other hand however hasn’t left your side, whether he was helping you walk down the hallway to get to a different room, helping carry your food to the table or the couch, helping carry your books, or just simply sitting in a room with some of the other avengers.

Today was no different, you were sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying some breakfast, Peter sitting beside you, shoveling some eggs into his mouth as you took a sip of your orange juice. Unfortunately for you the juice went down the wrong pipe, causing you to start coughing.

Peter’s eyes widened immediately, his head swinging to the side frantically as he tried to see what the issue was, he quickly started to pat your back lightly, telling you to try and take deep breaths. You did as he said and a few minutes later you were back to normal, a light blush on your cheeks.

A few hours later into the day you were cuddled up on one of the couches, Peter on the other end, you both were watching some movie on Netflix. You were so engrossed into the movie you didn’t even realize someone had walked into the kitchen. A loud noise erupted from within the area, startling you, causing Peter to jump up and comfort you, before investigating what caused the noise.

He rolled his eyes when he saw Thor and and Tony in the kitchen, apparently Thor had dropped a few pots onto the ground, while Tony criticized him for being so clumsy.

“You scared the life out of Y/N, be careful next time please.” Peter pleaded, looking between Tony and Thor.

“Oh you poor small human, you’re like those things that run around on four legs.. What are they called?” Thor questioned, rubbing his chin as he glanced at Tony.

“Puppies. They’re called puppies Thor.” Tony snorted, shaking his head as Thor’s eyes lit up, turning to face Peter.

“You’re the puppy always on guard protecting Y/N, following her around no matter where she goes, it’s cute.” Thor teased, causing Peter’s face to heat up a bit.

“I just want to make sure Y/N is safe at all times.” He defended, causing Tony to chuckle.

“We know bud, and you’re doing a great job.” Tony praised him, making him smile in satisfaction.

“You really think so?” He questioned, biting his lip slightly as he watched their focus go to something behind him, causing him to turn around to see you standing there, a small smile on your lips.

“Yeah, I think so.” You smiled, pulling him into a hug, causing his heart to race.