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Stiles has tried to tell you multiple times that he is Spider Man right into your face. Shamelessly.
Yet, you mistook his honesty as his usual nonsense jokes.
The first time he told you, you snorted your soda through your nose as you laughed at his perfectly serious face.
“I'm serious!” He exclaimed as you both stood in a crowded hallway. Yeah sure. Because Spider Man would casually just reveal his identity in a high school locker. “The webs, the crawling, the swinging—that was me! Your friendly neighborhood Spider Man!” He added in a shushed yell.
“Huh…or just my friendly neighbor.” You mocked, wiping the soda off your chin. “Whatever. I'll be late for history. See you at lunch.”
That was three months ago. Since then, Stiles had boldly dropped more wild hints. Maybe you wouldn't even call it hints the way he was so forward about it. But nothing seemed to have convinced you despite him showing off how he could stay on the hanging bars the longest during PE. Or how he would show up with mysterious bruises on his arms or faces, or cuts you don't even know if he staged or not.
Whatever it is, all you thought was that he was just being an attention seeker. And he did an amazing job because he did seek your attention, alright. And it was incredibly and annoyingly charming for most parts.
One time, he showed you a Spider Man themed shirt under his flannel, as if that would help his situation.
“You're dressing up as a 12 year old now?” You only commented which earned you a groan from him.
It became a routine. To convince you that he is Spider Man. And you have brushed him off repeatedly. “Stiles, come on. It was a good joke at first but—do you think I'd actually believe Spider Man would just say things like that? In a crowded hallway, Stiles.”
Well, yeah duh.
“I already like you, okay? If you're doing this for attention, then there. I said it.”
That led to him finally giving up and completely forget about even telling you he is the friendly neighborhood superhero. So, he just asked you out, like what he should've done ages ago instead of wasting his energy revealing an identity you have hard time believing in.
And you were down for it. Finally.
***
The date was simple. Movie.
It was in a cinema downtown that mostly plays reruns of some old films, few are new and it's those cheap second-run ones. He let you pick and he paid. Barbie. He groaned when he had to buy the tickets. He didn't mind paying for you. But he most certainly mind your choice of film.
“We're seriously watching a movie for girls? Isn't this all just dress up and girly things?” You ignored him as you entered the theater.
“I don't really mean to offend you, but look at me. Do I look like the type to enjoy watching a movie about girls?”
People who had come to see the film with enthusiasm turned to look at him with great offense, shooting him a frown, and you immediately had to sit him down in your designated chairs to avoid the attention Stiles was attracting.
“Stiles, if you don't shut your mouth right now I will leave before the trailers even finishes.”
“What—wait no no, I'm sorry!” He defended, earning a round of ‘shh’ from the crowd.
“Then watch your tone.” You said, shaking your head.
***
An hour into the movie and Barbie was talking to this lady on the bench, you heard a sniff. Then a stifle.
You looked to your left to see Stiles who had his arm across his chest, the other had his hand pressed on his mouth as he intently watched the scene. The light of the screen reflected his wet face, and he was trying every trick in the book to conceal it. He was ultimately failing.
You quietly reached for his arm then he turned to you, surprised.
“Oh, I'm not crying.” He immediately defended.
You shook your head amusedly at him, giving him a light squeeze.
“You're such an idiot.”
The theater was quiet. And Stiles was hiding his emotions.
You scoffed internally. Dress up and girly things my ass.
“I'm sorry for doubting you. This is really beautiful. Please hold my hand.”
This time you couldn't help but snort, turning to him incredulously. But you did reach for his hand.
***
You resumed watching the film, getting more comfortable with each other.
But as it was nearing its end, the screen had suddenly flickered, the audio got distorted.
First, smoke started appearing on the vents, then tiny debris rained. Then next thing you know, the ceiling was ripped open and an odd mechanical arm swept across the entire room until it landed on a fortunately empty space of the theater.
Stiles couldn't help but curse himself. You caught it.
“EVERYONE OUT!” Someone yelled, perhaps a security. But that doesn't matter anymore as you focused on getting out of there with Stiles.
“Come on, let's go!” You said worriedly, your hands moving to his arm as you pulled him out of there. But Stiles got heavier to drag when he literally just stopped and looked at the mech with an expression—sharp and focused.
“Stiles!”
He finally snapped, turning his head towards you. And for a second, his face softened. “Okay, listen to me. You're gonna go outside with everyone else. Stay there, go somewhere safe. Don't come back inside to look for me, okay? Don't.”
Your eyes widened, confused on what he's trying to do here. “Stiles, what are you—”
“Just do it! Please. And for the love of everything, don't get yourself into trouble.”
Before any protest or question could even leave your mouth, he pulled you closer for a quick kiss on your head, clumsy. “I'm sorry, I was really hoping this date would be normal. But you gotta trust me.”
And the next thing happened so fast as he pushed you on a crowd that's running away out of the theater, forcing you to move with them.
***
Outside, the whole street was in chaos. People were crying, sirens were wailing, and the thing that interrupted everything was continuously destroying wherever it goes. Its arms—you’ve counted five—were flailing like a drunk man’s arm.
Then a blue and red blur swung across the scene.
Spider Man.
You'd only ever see him in the news, never up close. And people watched in awe as he shot webs on what you concluded was a mechanical octopus. Or pentapus? Whatever, it's not really that important.
Your gaze followed Spider Man as well as he moved from one place to another like he was born in mid-air, consistently dodging each attack.
“Up here, buddy!” His voice rang, and it was weirdly so familiar. “Too early for causing a wreck, man. Don't you have any other hobbies? Because frankly this is kinda disastrous. No offense!”
Weirdly so very familiar.
The mech roared. Or maybe the pilot did, or whatever—why is that even important?
It swung one of its massive arms to Spider Man, but he cleverly redirected it somehow back to its head, yanking its wiring.
You should've ran to a safer place. You should've stayed back. But you should also look for Stiles. Because despite his very riddle-like advice, you were stupidly worried. He just vanished.
Later you only realized you've distanced yourself from the crowd who were safer in where they were. Your feet dragged you somewhere to find Stiles before your brain could even process what you were entirely doing.
Bad decision. Stupid decision. Why didn't you listen to Stiles again?
Something was already creaking. At a distance? No. Above.
You looked up, and a chunk of the cinema font was already attempting to fall right where you stood. It was about the size of a car, and it instantly overwhelmed you.
You couldn't think fast enough to run.
Then something slammed into your waist. Hard.
The world turned to blur in green and grays, like you were suddenly spun—and then you realized you were in the air. No. You were lifted in the air as wind roared into your ears.
“I SWEAR TO GOD,” a voice yelled near your ear. And then you realized what hit you was a strong solid arm wrapped around you securely. “IF YOU EVER DO ANY RECKLESS SHIT LIKE THAT AGAIN—” he continued as he swung from building to building.
You were in the arms of Spider Man.
“I SWEAR, I'M GONNA HAVE TO WEB YOU TO THE CEILING NEXT TIME AND LEAVE YOU THERE.”
“What—”
“NO, SHUT UP RIGHT NOW. SHUT UP. I'M WORRIED, OKAY?!”
“Excuse me?” You suddenly felt offended and confused. “What are you even—What are you talking about?! Do you have a problem with me, Spider Man?!”
“YES, I INFACT DO.”
Spider Man huffed. Then he proceeded cussing under his breath. Fluently. Creatively. In a way that's too uncannily familiar.
He swung you both to a nearby rooftop, with the landing a bit rough mostly on his part because he was holding you so well only until he knew your feet could safely touch the ground.
“You,” Spider Man pointed his index finger directly at your face. “You are the most reckless, terrifying, stressing person I've ever met. And I've fought a lizard guy. A LIZARD GUY!”
He started pacing around in front of you, muttering mostly to himself about you almost having it.
You wondered what's so uncanny about this as you watched him. Then it hit you
“You're Spider Man,” you whispered.
It finally hit you.
“NO I'M YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE—of course I'm Spider Man! That's what I've been telling you for months!”
His frustration was visible in his voice.
And then everything was no longer vague. The slope of his posture was familiar. From the way he was thrashing his arms around while he rambled, the way his voice had an oddly familiar tune and how he was muttering some creative nonsense that can be worth a classic novel.
“Stiles?”
He finally stopped pacing, his frantic gestures stopping as he froze, turning his masked head to you.
“Stiles.” You repeated, feeling more confident this time as you took one step forward.
Spider Man immediately pulled his mask off. Didn't think twice, revealing a really distressed Stiles Stilinski underneath.
His eyes were wide with worry, hair messy, face sweaty, but overall a soft expression as he looked at you.
“Surprise?” He said quietly in an almost sarcastic tune.
You only stared at him without saying anything, and this made him panic.
“Okay, maybe not surprising,” He quickly added. “But look—I know I should've told you properly sooner, but I tried, okay? But you always thought I was joking or something—which is fair, it's fine. I know I joke a lot, and I'm mostly stupid—but also, are you okay? Did I grab you too hard? Is your head okay? Your arm—”
“You almost died.”
“What?”
“Multiple times.” Your brows furrowed. “On the news—every week. You—” You looked back at his eyes, filled with worry, tenderness, and nervousness. “You are absolutely stupid, Stiles!”
Stiles managed to let out an amused scoff, then a lopsided grin slowly appeared on his face as he watched you. “I don't think you should worry about that at all. I'm Spider Man, you know?” It made his heart swell to know that you're concerned about him. “So are you mad about the date?”
“No. But I'm furious about you!” You hit him once on his chest, but not harshly. “All this time you were telling the truth and you never even bothered to actually prove that in a more logical way. You could've been killed a million different times in million different ways and I would never even had the chance to—” You cut yourself up, realizing where you're going with this.
“Say that you love me?” Stiles suggested, wriggling his brows at you teasingly.
“YES.”
He laughed then you hit him again. But he was quick to grab your wrist and pull you close to him. He hugged you. In a way where he managed to lift your feet from the ground and swoon you around.
Stiles could not explain how relieved he was. First, you finally realized that Spider Man is Stiles Stilinski—a huge thing for him for wanting to share his most vulnerable secret. Second, finding out the feeling was mutual. Nothing could have made him happier and stupidly be more in love.
He buried his face into your hair. “I'm sorry. I've been hoping this day would be perfect. Y’know…Just popcorn and a good movie while holding your hand.”
“I thought you said that movie was only for girls?”
“I think I say lot'a stupid things.”
He finally pulled away, holding the side of your arms with a serious expression. “But that thing you did back there? Not funny. Do not do that ever again.”
“Okay.”
His serious face was immediately washed off, displaying that classic grin.
“So… Cool, huh?”
You scoffed, shoving him by his chest.
He tilted his head, moving his hands on your waist. “Do you actually believe me now?”
You smiled back on how easy it was for him to change the mood. “I don't know. You might still have to prove it? Say something that only Stiles would know, Spider Man.”
“Okay,” He whispered, grinning. “I have massive c—”
You immediately hit him.
“Ow, what? I said I have a massive collection of Batman comics!” He laughed. “And I secretly listen to my dad's phone calls. And also, I was the one who broke the vending machine last year.
“I asked for proof, not crime confessions.”
He only shrugged.
Then more sirens wailed from a distance, indicating that the fight was still on-going, and that the pentapus thing was still destroying things. There was a loud crash.
“Shit, I have to go.” He said, putting his mask back on, but before he could pull it down fully,
“Oh, wait just a quick,” You started before pulling him down by the shoulders for a kiss—a messy, short, and last minute one. “Be safe, Spider Man.”
Stiles stared at you for a moment, starstruck. Like you just personally created a second sun on the spot.
“Cool,” He said, trailing off. “Uhm—Okay, I'm so gonna take you out on a second date.”
You laughed, and he planted a tender kiss on your forehead with his half down mask before pulling you closer by tugging your waist again with his arm.
“Alright, hold on tight.” He warned, fixing his mask.
“Promise not to drop me?”
“Not gonna happen.”