Work Text:
Meeting Peter had been a happy coincidence.
Red was all you could see while the photographs became from white pristine paper into an unknown image. Some were already hanging from the thread up your head while you waited. Fortunately enough you had chosen a moonless night to work on your photos at college. So when the door swung open there was no risk of ruining your work.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Thought it was empty.” A voice said at your back.
“It’s alright, I’m almost done.”
The person stood beside you, eyes scanning your work and you turned to him just in time to see a smile appear on his lips.
“Those are great shots.” He nodded with his head at the photo that was already developing in the transparent liquid. “I was there that night too, they’re a powerhouse.”
The Strokes had an unexpected gig on Wednesday and you had the fortune to get tickets and stand right in the press area to snap a few photos of them. You were really happy with what you got. It made you fill up with pride to hear someone else appreciate what you captured.
“They totally are, you took photos too?” you asked, turning to him, fully looking at the tall boy by your side.
He seemed quite familiar now that you noticed.
“No, a friend got us tickets, just went to have a good time.” He shrugged, putting his backpack on the floor with a thud. “What’s your favorite song of theirs?”
He hadn’t stopped smiling at you. He started to put all his things out on top of the table. His camera, strap still on, the rolls of film and his phone. The screen was crashed and the edges of it battered, it had personality just like him; with his jumper and his tousled hair as if he had run just to make it there in time, as if he knew you could be leaving soon and didn’t want to miss you.
Of course you wanted to pretend that was the reason for his sudden rush a moment ago.
“Well, I’d say the classics of course, YOLO and Welcome to Japan are just gems but I guess from their last album I really enjoyed Ode to The Mets . What about you?”
And it started a full on conversation on your favorite The Strokes ’ songs, it was easy to talk to him about music, about art, about playlists and pastries. With each word exchanged you could feel him getting closer to you, arms brushing, laughs shared, eyes making excessive staring, heart beats speeding and hands sweating.
The boy finished hanging his photos, you could see friends laughing, dogs and incredible landscapes of the city. He had a good eye you wanted to tell him but he beat you to it with a new thought.
Casually, he leaned his side on the desk, arms crossed over his chest, pushing his biceps out, yeah you noticed.
“They are doing another show in Brooklyn tomorrow… I got an extra ticket if you… you know… if you wanted to go… I could—we could meet there… I don’t know.” He said eyes going from your face to the rest of the room.
You weren’t sure how but you could notice his whole face going one or two shades darker. It was hard to see under the red lights but the invitation made you feel funny inside, matching with all the rest of your body reactions during the half an hour you’ve been there. You balanced the options; he was sweet, and he was nervous and you were nervous too and you had nothing to lose really.
“Sure, I’d love that.”
And he beamed, his shoulders relaxed and his eyes twinkled. “Great! Cool, so it’s in Brooklyn Steel. There's a subway nearby. If you live in Manhattan I could wait for you there or outside the venue, you tell me, it’s your choice.”
“I mean you can come pick me up, I live in Greenwich… and if you like we could have dinner before.” You felt your heartbeat in your throat.
“Oh…Yeah! Yeah sure, of course I know a pizza place, if you like Pizza of course.”
You chuckled. “I do love pizza, so it’s a date?”
His whole body filled with air and sudden pride. “It’s a date!”
“Cool,”
“Cool…. by the way my name is Peter Parker.”
He laughed, extending his palm, which got your smaller one wrapped perfectly.
You told him your name. “Great to meet you Peter Parker.” and he grinned boyishly.
Orange wasn’t a color you often found yourself leaning towards, it never meant much to you, but it had been six months since you and Peter started to date in a very serious way. So you wanted the day to mean something, an unconscious choice, that was being expressed in an orange outfit, you tried it on and unexpectedly it looked good on you.
Still the color meant nothing much, nothing until he said: “I love you.”
His lips were on the shell of your ear as you waited in line to get some gelato. Peter had his arms wrapped around your middle, he squeezed you a little tighter as his words reached your ear getting seared in your brain, the moment was typical almost ordinary, but it was golden hour and the sunbeams were casting a film of orange peachy tone, your heart somersaulted, belly twisted, and your lips turned upwards in the widest smile you’ve ever given to anyone.
“I love you too,” you responded, turning in his arms, and you kissed Peter on his soft lips, he tasted like honey and something completely Peter’s.
The sunset was upon you. Cherry and choco-mint gelato flavored kisses. Peter left a peck on your forehead as he turned up to the sky while you walked down the busy streets of New York, a grin on his cold lips.
“Look, you match the sky.” He pointed.
Furrowing your eyebrows you looked up as peachy skies started to turn slightly bluish on the far end. Peter gave a light tug to the fabric covering your ribs.
You indeed were matching the clouds and the day. From that moment on, orange made you reminisce about the first ‘I love yous’.
Meaning was found in color.
One night as the tv showed the film ‘Big Fish’ Peter found you crying on the couch to the scene where Ewan McGregor’s character had finally found the girl he loved and showed her how much she meant to him by flooding the outside of her house with flowers. The most beautiful act of love you’ve seen in a movie.
You gasped when on your birthday the rooftop of your building was covered in yellow flowers, they probably weren’t as many as the movie had but you loved how the variety of them left a scent of sweetness and freshness in the air as Peter settled a picnic in the middle of the improvised garden, daffodils, roses, daisies, you weren’t even sure how may of them were there but you loved it.
“Over here,” With a flourish he showed you the path to the picnic and you followed him, fingers intertwined.
“Peter Parker you shouldn’t have,” hands on your chest and inevitably your nose tingled, your eyes watering.
Peter gave you a sweet smile.“Of course I have to! It’s your birthday honey, you deserve all the nice, most beautiful things there are in the world and I know the quantity of flowers isn’t near as the ones in the movie but the budget’s a bit tight this week.”
His face went a bit pink as you sat down the plaid tablecloth.
Your heart squeezed. Reaching for his hand, his attention fully on you.
“I love it, everything, even the mismatched set of plates and the fact that you are wearing the most horrible pair of socks I’ve seen.”
Yes, they were also yellow, they had tiny bright green cars printed on them. You snorted as Peter sent you a sharp look.
“What!? These are my good luck socks, I wore them when I met you, that has to mean something.” He smirked, “They're special.”
“That doesn’t mean they are pretty nor cool.”
Peter scoffed, he threw a napkin at your face, “I’ll let it pass because it’s your day. And I love you and respect you too much to start an argument over my styling choices.”
Another snort on your behalf and you didn’t see it coming but Peter launched against you. You both laid on the cloth as Peter held his weight on his elbows to not crush you. Kissing the tip of your nose, then kissing your lips. Soft lips over smiles and low chuckles.
“Happy birthday, baby.”
“Thank you for being the absolute best.”
And all you saw was Peter’s chocolate eyes, the light freckles forming on his nose thanks to the summer time and a halo of yellow all around you.
Peter had been so scared, literally he thought of cancelling last minute but a talk with May served him well. He loved you and he needed to show a bit of support, especially knowing your family would be there and this was the first Christmas you two spent together.
You two took the subway all the way to Queens. Your mom’s side of the family had this pretty lovely house with a huge garden and one of the biggest kitchens Peter has set foot on.
Peter wasn’t into Christmas but knowing it meant so much for you he made an effort, besides he wanted the rest of your family to like him, to love him if possible. So when your cousin asked you both to babysit littler Tommy while she put her new born baby to sleep, Peter couldn’t say no, and there you three were in the middle of the kitchen decorating gingerbread cookies with the five year old Tommy who had found a liking for Peter very quickly.
Maybe he could feel his spidey senses too, kids had that kind of ability too sometimes, to predict stuff and shit. Well, Peter read that once so maybe it was true.
Sitting on the kitchen island Peter handed little Tommy a cookie as you put different color frostings on display for them to start their artsy gourmet pieces.
Peter went for something that made him feel too clever, you’ve known for a while anyway.
Red and blue, black lines, white eyes.
“A Spider-Man cookie, really Peter?” your voice was a bit judge-y but Peter saw your smile as you shook your head, and it made him chuckle. “Smartass.”
“Well… It made you smile. But it’s not just a Spider-Man cookie, it’s a Christmas Spidey, right Tommy?”
You laughed as Peter showed Tommy his Spidey-cookie, a Santa hat badly shaped on top of the masked hero. Tommy let out that childish giggle that made the both of you beam at the kid.
“See, Tommy boy appreciates my art, you should do the same, baby.”
Rolling your eyes Peter smirked and continued on decorating cookies with the little boy in front of him.
It warmed your heart seeing Peter getting along with kids, it made you think of the future, and in that moment the thought of a little Peter didn’t sound so bizarre.
“Can someone bring the little bunny I left in the car?!” you heard your cousin call, and just as an instinct you turned to Peter.
“Go ahead, we have it under control right ,Tom?” the kid probably didn’t know what you were talking about but he still gave you a nod.
So Peter saw you leave the kitchen.
At some point during the decorating session, Peter needed the color green to complete his Christmas tree cookie. He only found green frosting inside a transparent plastic bag. With a shrug he took it between his palms.
“It can’t be that hard right Tommy.” The kid with those big doe eyes, grinned at him.
“Do it!” Tommy squealed.
Peter laughed and started doing the edges of this tree.
But the doorbell rang, Tommy jumped in his spot startled, Kiki the dog started barking, everything happened within the same five seconds and Peter– with incredibly enhanced reflexes put a little too much pressure on the bag.
The next thing he and Tommy saw was green , green splashed everywhere in the kitchen specially Tommy’s face and Peter’s shirt.
“Oh,” Peter said in awe.
“Uh oh, you are in trouble!” Tommy said singsonging, pointing at Peter’s shirt. And a second later he started maniacally laughing.
Peter couldn’t help but laugh too. This was definitely not the way he wanted to impress your family but at least Tommy knew how to lighten the mood.
Steps were heard as the two boys in the kitchen cackled louder while they licked their green fingers.
You appeared on the threshold, agape as you saw the explosion of color, snorting you went ahead to try and help the little kid, who only laughed harder at your face.
That was a moment in time that your family always reminded Peter of. Peter felt like he belonged right there and then when everyone made fun of him and Tommy’s green face.
Coney Island was shining prettily against the darkness of the night, Peter had texted you four times to meet him there. He went to check near the cotton candy stand, you weren’t there.
He had been working his ass off for Jonah the whole week, so now that he had free time, he wanted to do something different and fun with you, and what could be more fun than going to Coney Island and getting on those rattly dubious carnival rides?
The carousel was packed with parents and screaming kids, as loud music blasted all around, you weren’t there either, so he kept on walking. A man with a bunch of blue balloons was falling asleep on his spot near a trash can.
Peter’s brain had an idea. He brought a balloon and wrapped it on his wrist. Took his phone out of his jeans and snapped a quick selfie.
Sent it to you instantly.
I’m the guy with the blue balloon. Hurry up baby I’m starving :(
Two seconds later his hand buzzed and there you were, another selfie you had a blue balloon too.
Matching, now let’s see who finds the other first.
Loser buys dinner.
Peter smirked, he had missed you so much the whole day.
Deal. You are so gonna lose,
Forgot I got enhanced sight x
Too much talking Parker
we’ll see about that.
Peter loved a good challenge, and meaning he was getting free food and probably a bunch of kisses was enough incentive for him to start looking.
Five minutes and Peter decided to cheat a little. Hopping on the ferris wheel had been the worst idea ever, his eyes tried to focus on blue balloons but the colorful lights caused the opposite effect, overstimulation to his poor eyes, Peter felt dizzy.
When his ride ended, shoulders slumped, and a defeated sigh escaped him but it didn’t matter. He ran to your arms. Balloons tangling between one another, and Peter didn’t care if he had to buy dinner, he was just so happy to see you there.
“I won!” you grinned, as Peter’s hands found place on the side of your face.
“Yeah I let you.”
“Nah, I saw when you went in there,” you smiled, as he caressed your cheeks with his thumbs.
Peter leaned in to kiss you, it was sweet and full of love.
“I sabotaged myself with those lights, so yeah I let you,” you rolled your eyes and Peter chuckled. “Come on, let’s get rid of these,” he punched his balloon, hitting your face with it.
“Hey!”
He snorted, and kissed your forehead, “Sorry.”
“Just because you are buying dinner, but let’s keep them. This was a good idea to find each other in the crowd.”
“Blue Balloons seem to be better than GPS, right?”
Peter tried to put his arm over your shoulders but the threads of the balloons were too twisted, thread tugged at your wrist wrong, you yelped and Peter grunted.
“Not very practical when I want to hold you closer.” Peter quivered his brows, but neither made the effort to unravel the knots of ribbon.
You simply intertwined your hands and walked down Coney Island ready to eat your weight on hotdogs.
“But baby my love my everything, this is so cool! I can go to work, get there faster, pick you up. We can drive to visit May, your mom! We can go on a weekend trip!”
Your face was a mix of fear and curiosity. The bright motorcycle was parked just outside your apartment building, it was indigo blue and it sparkled when the sun hit the paint. You couldn’t lie to yourself, it was a pretty motorcycle, however…
“But it’s dangerous!”
“But it’s convenient!” Peter put out a helmet from his backpack. “Look, I even bought you one! Come on, let's have a little ride, it’ll be fun.”
“Peter-“
“Don’t Peter me, c’mon”
With his doe eyes Peter persuaded you to do the unimaginable. You hated when he swung you places, the momentum of the web slinging made you want to vomit and you didn’t enjoy fast rides so this felt like a mixture of both things. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably as you put the helmet on.
“Hold onto me, if I go too fast let me know, okay?”
Your hands surrounded his waist, you weren’t too sure about the motorcycle but you trusted Peter with your life, so you nodded against his back.
“I got you baby.”
The roar distracted you from the sudden movement, eyes closed tightly you felt Peter’s abs clench when he made a sharp turn or when he had to make a stop.
“You okay?”
“I guess… so far,”
“It isn’t that bad, try to enjoy it.”
You both were speaking loud to hear the other through the helmets, but Peter could sense your shaky hands against his stomach and the way you tensed your body on the curves.
But a few minutes later you started to loosen your grip on his body. Your eyes wandered as you moved between the city… Some streets were less trafficked than others but it was nice to feel the wind and the passing by colors. You didn’t even notice when Peter added a bit of velocity, you were immersed in the sensations.
The Brooklyn bridge was ahead, the view of Manhattan was breathtaking at the hour, some street lights were already turning on but the sky still reflected itself on the skyscrapers, mirroring the view.
“Move in with me?”
“What?”
You weren’t able to hear him because of the wind and the helmet.
“That you should move in with me!” Peter shouted.
“What movie?”
“For fucks sake,”
Peter mumbled as he came to a stop. His motorcycle roared still, but the noise was a lot less. Taking the helmet off, he turned around and took yours too.
“I said… move in with me”
Your eyes grew big, a little shocked, “Oh,”
“I mean we already spend pretty much all the time together so I thought… um, never mind, it was just an idea.”
You grabbed his shoulder, “I’d love to. I was just surprised you asked me all of a sudden. But yeah, let’s do it!”
Peter felt relief and a wave of euphoria. He hopped off the motorcycle, helmets hanging from the handlebars. He nestled your face between his hands, kissing you deeply, he smelt like sun, leather and spandex, with a touch of lemon thanks to his shampoo.
“I have everything planned, we can move my desk to the other room and we can make that an office for when you work from home, we definitely need to throw out my mattress, yours is way bigger and more comfy. Oh and we could get a dog, you like dogs I like dogs so why not.”
You were beaming at your boyfriend as he kept on rambling about the new accommodations of the apartment, what breed of dog and if he even had to buy new cutlery.
“It’s alright, we can figure that out later.” The wind swirled around you and it all felt right. Even the oh so horrible motorcycle felt less wrong, like it had to be part of your trip or this decision. “We can also get rid of this indigo monstrosity too,”
Peter furrowed his brow, “I just bought it, come on, it's so cool.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. “It is not, it’s dangerous and you won’t even use it.”
“Oh I definitely will, I look so hot on it.”
Rolling your eyes you gave him a good reason to not like the motorcycle, “that’s why I don’t want it, people will be looking at my boyfriend a little too much.”
Peter smirked, “oh so you agree I look extra hot on the motorcycle, huh. Knew you liked it, kinky.”
“Oh shut up!”
“You love me, don’t try to deny it.”
You grunted, but a smile slipped on your lips. Peter took the helmet and was about to put it on your head again.
“Love you.” He kissed your forehead sliding the plastic thing, he gave the top of it two knocks, making your head rattle.
“Ouch.”
“Oops,” he put his on and there you were again on the road back to Peter’s apartment, your new home.
Lazy Sunday, as Peter liked to call them. They were pretty much that, after a long night of patrolling, he finally slept until his body couldn’t stand being in bed.
There had been five months since you moved in with him and he couldn’t be happier. You threw a party a month after you were settled in. May made meatloaf as if an army was about to arrive at the apartment, you and he had to eat that for two weeks straight until the last bit disappeared.
Peter didn’t want to see or hear the meatloaf again, like ever in his life.
So lazy Sundays for him consisted of sleeping, working on his laptop, kissing you as many times as he could, washing dishes and watching basketball games. Sometimes he would change a burned out light bulb or fix the sink’s pressure but that day Peter decided to do laundry, it was his turn so he put everything in trying to finish the task as fast as possible.
When you came back from the bakery, with a fresh baguette and a slice of lemon pound cake for Peter, he went into the kitchen to prepare milkshakes at noon.
“We should wait until after lunch time, Peter,” you pointed as you put the dishes in place.
Peter grunted, “we can have early dinner instead, come on you love my strawberry milkshakes.”
And with pouty lips and twinkly doe eyes how could you say no to Peter Parker.
“Fine… but I want mine to be extra creamy!”
“Your wish is my command, baby”
He kissed the top of your head and started to work.
Two hours later Peter was trying to fix some of the coloring and contrast of his photos to send to The Bugle. Kendrick Lamar played through his laptop speakers as he nodded along.
“PETER!”
And Peter flinched on his spot, he sank deeper on the couch, pretending he hadn’t heard you shout his name. Kendrick did a good job trying to make this more believable.
“PETER!”
Shit shit shit
Peter was panicking, he didn’t even know what he had done to get that tone from you, but he wasn’t risking it.
Maybe that was a bad move on his behalf, because when you appeared in the living room with puckered lips and flared nostrils he feared for his life. Not literally but he knew something was coming down.
“What did you do to the washing machine?” you asked him, pretending you were totally chill, calm, but it was obvious you were about to lose it.
“Uh… fabric softener?”
“What else?” your brow cocked and Peter wasn’t sure what his answer should be.
“I—um… clothes…” you sigh didn’t help him solve the puzzle, “listen honey, I don’t know what happened, I just did what I saw you doing, what May taught me.”
Peter half shrugged.
Crossing your arms over your chest you pivoted on your spot, “come see what happened.”
Peter winced, knowing that whatever it was was worse than he imagined.
The little room where the washing machine and the dryer machine were, had all the clothes on display just for him to see. Peter’s eyes widened.
“Oh.” he said. Hands on both sides of his hip bones.
“Yeah oh , now what are we gonna do?”
“I… don’t know, baby.”
Your eyes turned to him, seeing his whole face contracting as he tried his best to not laugh.
“Don’t dare laugh Parker, this isn’t funny, those right there were my best pair of shorts!”
But Peter couldn’t hold it, he snorted and started laughing, until tears were forming on the corner of his eyes. Immediately afterwards you let yourself get involved in the same stupid feeling.
The clothes were violet , not lilac or pink, bright violet. Peter’s suit was the only cloth item that remained in its true colors, red and blue.
“I shouldn’t have done that.” Peter was trying to stop laughing but the more he looked at the scene the funnier it became.
“Yeah you shouldn’t have, but you did it.” a little smile tugged at your lips, “at least you’ll have to use violet shirts too, and socks, I mean you wear those horrible yellow socks anyway so I don’t think that would be an issue for you.”
“Oh, not this again,” Peter was grinning, “but yeah right, I don’t care about the socks, violet isn’t my color tho, but it’s what I deserve.”
“Next time wash the damn suit alone”
“I will…” Peter saw you collecting the clothes, his whole body—even when he felt a pang of guilt for the damage he cause—felt alive, happy and eased, this was the most mundane thing that could’ve happened to him today and he was almost grateful for it, because he loved having moments like that with you. Homey, normal and funny.
He loved spending life with you, no matter what happened or what color his underwear was, his life was technicolor since you were in it.
“Did I tell you the same happened to me a couple years back, I told May I washed the American flag, just so she wouldn’t suspect of me being Spider-Man…”
Peter said this between laughs, reminiscing of the past.
“And why didn’t you put it in the washing machine alone..”
“I forgot… I’ll buy you another pair of shorts I promise!”
“Ugh, shut up Peter!”
Black was all you saw, lying in bed next to Peter as the rain pelted on the windows. His chest was pressed to your back, you being the little spoon.
Peter kissed the back of your neck as his arms wrapped your middle, putting you as near as your bodies could ever be.
You didn’t need light nor words to express how much you cared for him or him for you, it was all in the actions, in the deep breaths he took to inhale your shampoo scent and the still lingering perfume notes on your skin.
It was in the way he made tiny little circles on your stomach, his hands finding a way under your shirt and his lips brushing the skin of your shoulder. You felt his heartbeat at your back and you smiled, Peter made you smile when he was falling asleep and all of a sudden he jumped on his spot, that feeling of falling off the bed when you are getting swallowed by sleepiness.
He grunted and snuggled against you.
Of course he felt your belly wiggle with the silent laugh, but Peter didn’t care his lips only turned upwards, enjoying just the feeling of you between his arms. Your hands found his, fingers tracing the shape of his fingers and the edges of his hand, his trapped yours and it made you giggle, his index and thumb found the new addition in your ring finger.
In the darkness everything felt more personal, this was a reminder of what the future held for you two, secret actions no one needed to know, so you twisted to face Peter as he fixed himself to let you.
The pitch black room wasn’t an impediment, on the contrary it gave you permission to brush your knuckles over Peter’s jaw where a stubble was forming. Your lips found his naturally, Peter was almost out but he let you kiss him, only his hand giving your hip a light squeeze.
Rain was the soundtrack you fell asleep to. Peter your comfort, and darkness, the witness of little moments of joy and love.
White were the balloons, the tablecloths and your wedding attire.
The flowers decorating the space were yellow, they had to be.
Seeing Peter dressed in black with his bowtie and teary eyes at the altar, all you could think of was how fortunate you were, how much you loved him and how happy your life became the moment you saw him under red lights.
Forever promises were made, with more I love yous than one could dare to count, and a bunch of kisses once they let you kiss one another.
“I’ll forever be here for you, you are the joy of my life, the light, the sun, the stars, the moon, my compass and my reason to be who I am.” Peter kept on whispering even after the ceremony. With each word your heart grew a size, you couldn’t believe you felt this strongly about someone.
First dance with Baby I’m Yours by the Arctic Monkeys in the background felt like the right call. Peter made you twirl and you sang to him, as he hid his face on your neck, kissing it lightly.
You saw your mom and May crying at some point; little Tommy became the ring bearer and was even more fascinated by Peter when for his birthday he got a lego collection of none other than Spider-Man.
Cake was lemon sponge and they served strawberry milkshakes along with other alcoholic beverages. Peter and you danced until your feet couldn’t take one more step.
“I love you!”
“No, love you more!”
“Lies,”
“I asked you out, remember? I have dibs.” Peter pinched your nose.
“But I accepted, so I have the last word.”
Peter rolled his eyes, pressed his forehead on yours, eyes connecting with your own. He leaned in, eyes fluttered shut and there; lips collided with so much care, love and softness you could feel fireworks inside you, colorful, fiery, bright and alive.
Loving Peter Parker was like every single one of the colors, everything merging together, forming a rainbow inside your heart.