Marvel Imagines

     "(Y/N)?"

A familiar voice, followed by a familiar figure, dropped down in front of you as you were on your way home.

Your eyes widened as you rushed over to prop over the person. "Spider-Man?"

He laughed weakly, slumping against you completely, making your knees buckle.

"Are you alright?" you questioned worriedly, fingers fluttering over him uncertainly. Your hand came away drenched in blood, fresh, staining his outfit with a darker red.

"Oh my god, you're bleeding!" you exclaimed, propping him up against the wall, crouching down to examine his chest.

"You're seriously hurt," you informed him, rummaging in your bag for your nursing kit. He let out a groan of suppressed pain when you pressed a clean white bandage to it, at least to staunch the bleeding.

"I sort of gathered that by the pools of blood I'm leaving behind."

      When he collapsed, his legs giving out under him, you huffed, tugging at his arms futilely. "Spider-Man? Spider-Man! You need to stay awake! At least we can get you somewhere safe."

    You sighed when the only sound he made was a muffled grunt of pain, resting your hands on your hips and glancing around. "Okay, I think the only option is to get you to my house."

     He exhaled sharply before managing to limp a few steps with your help. You sighed again, shutting your eyes. It would be a long night.

****

     "Take your shirt - or suit - off." you ordered, soaking a towel in warm water and antiseptic.

      Despite his injuries, he weakly chuckled, slipping it off smoothly. You averted your eyes instinctively, hoping furiously that in the darkness, your blush would be undetectable.

      You cleared your throat, dabbing at one particularly nasty cut along his chest. The bleeding had mostly slowed, but he would most likely need stitches. Your fingers trailed along his lean, well defined abdomen, tracing the hard planes of his chest.

      He laughed, only to wince when it turned to pain. "Enjoying the view?"

      You flushed, glaring up at his mask. "Not really. Not when it's covered in cuts and bruises. I'm going to go get my nursing kit."

     He hummed in consent, slinging his arm across the back of the chair he was sitting in. You paused whilst rummaging for a needle, glancing back at him.

      "What do I call you?" you asked casually, "I mean, I can't just call you Spider-Man forever."

      "I got a secret identity to keep up, you know."

      You smiled as you walked back over, pouring more disinfectant on his wound. He grimaced as you began stitching the gash up, steadying his body with the other hand.

       "There," you said in satisfaction, leaning back. "I think I'll call you...Philip." you mused aloud. "Or maybe you sound more like a Michael."

      He caught your wrist as you turned away to fetch a clean towel, threading his ungloved fingers through yours. The smooth pads of his fingertips brushed against the pulse in your wrist, circling your hand.

      "Peter," he answered softly, "Call me Peter."