"You will be a great hero someday."
That was the phrase you'd use a lot in Peter's times of weakness.
Whenever he'd been wounded in anyway, he found you there to console him; that phrase always making an appearance.
He remember the first time you'd ever told him those words; when his Uncle Ben had passed.
That night, he found himself shaking and drowning in tears and self-hatred. What happened to his Uncle had felt like it had been all his fault; all because of his abilities.
You, his best friend, of course knew about the abilities, and then, about the man's death. You showed up at the Parker apartment with red eyes, Peter remembered seeing you tearing up even more when you'd opened to door with your spare key, only to see May sobbing at the table, being asked questions by officers to find out who the killer had been.
He'd been curled up on the couch, ears ringing even more as he struggled to comprehend the words you spoke to him. His eyes were blurry with tears, barely able to put your face together as you crouched at his knees.
When the ringing had finally stopped, he heard you say, "Peter, honey, everything will be okay."
That only made him sob more. At the same time as not being able to believe his Uncle had been shot to his death, it felt so unfathomably real. It felt like he'd been the one shot right in the chest.
You spent that night over at the Parker residence, attempting to lull a hysteric Peter to sleep in your arms. He'd spent the night cuddled into your chest with one of your legs lightly slung over his hip to hold onto him. He remembered the way you'd stroked his hair, having your lips pressed to the side of his head most of night, you mumbling words of reassurance into his ear as he'd sob into your chest.
"I did this, it's all my fault," he attempted had attempted to dig his face even further into your chest, trying to hide from nothing, "What kind of hero am I if I can't save my own family?"
You lowered your mouth to his ear, quietly saying, "It's not your fault, sweetie. You didn't do anything."
"Exactly," He hiccuped, "I didn't do anything. I didn't try to save him. I didn't help. I didn't-,"
"Know." Your thumb stroked his brown hair, going to brush some pieces away from his forehead, "You didn't know it was happening."
You planted another loving kiss onto Peter head as you both fell into a silence, his arms tightening their hold on your waist.
You broke the silence when you said, "You will be a great hero someday."
You guided Peter's face upwards to look at you, "Believe me when I say it."
—
The second time he'd found himself in your arms, this time in your bedroom, was when he'd failed to save a little boy from the likes of death.
"His face," he's spoken as you stitched up a gash on his side, "He was so scared, Y/N."
You felt a tear drop onto your hand, making you look up to see Peter beginning to cry, and whispered, "He saw me," his voice turned louder as he sobbed, "He screamed for me to save him and I didn't! I didn't, and now he's dead!"
You lunged forward, grabbing onto the shaking boy and pulling him into a tight hug. You felt him calm down, saying helplessly, "He was so young."
Peter felt you release him from the hug, cup his face, and force him to look you in the eyes, "Peter, you are Spider-Man, you save people, you know that," he'd began to avert his gaze from you and being his head down, only to have you pull it up again, "But you seem to always forget that you're only one person. Peter, you cannot save everyone, and that is not your fault. You did the best you could."
"How do you know?" He'd cried, "You weren't even there!"
"Because I know you, and everyone knows Spider-Man," your thumb ran across his cheekbone, "But every time something like this happens you seem to only think of yourself as some kid playing dress up to save people, and you need to stop that; 'cause that's not what everybody else sees."
You pulled Peter into a hug, your lips touching grazing his ears as you spoke, "And I'm telling that little boy dressed in a costume that he will be a great hero someday. It's okay to not save everybody, and when he becomes that great hero, he'll realize it."
—
The third time he found himself in your console, on a special the hill the two of you shared, had been after a fight; where he'd killed an attacker.
"I promised myself I'd never kill when I started being Spider-Man," he stopped pacing to look at your alarmed face, breathing in when he said, "But when I saw him holding you with that gun, I-,"
He cut himself off as he looked down, saying in disbelief, "What have I done?"
"Peter," you moved forward, only to have him moved back just the same. You gave him a hurt look, only to have him say,
"I don't want to hurt you."
Peter remembered seeing your face morph into utter heartbreak that day. You'd felt bad that your best friend had thought he was so dangerous after the incident.
"You won't hurt me, honey," your head fell to the side as you spoke calmly, "You panicked. It's fine."
"No, it's not, Y/N!" Tears began to stream down his face, "I took someone's son from them. I took away someone's husband, someone's father. What if he had a nephew he had to take care of too?"
"Oh, Pete," you moved forward again, this time grabbing hold of one of his hands, "He was a bad man, killing many people. Not everyone you fight will just go to jail.
Your arm moved up to his bicep, squeezing affectionately, "You will be a great hero someday; only when you realize that not all bad people can just be beat up to be stopped."
—
The fact that you'd been there for Peter all those times when he needed you and more, made this time so very hard.
A huge fight had broken out between Peter and a villain, who called himself the Scorpion. Mayhem ensued when the Scorpion had began terrorizing innocents, attacking men and women in every direction, demanding for Spider-Man to come and battle him.
Unfortunately, you'd been present while he'd been battling the evil man. You ran around, pushing and directing others to safety, despite Peter's protests to get out of the streets and go somewhere safe.
You managed to dodge and and run from anything that came hurtling and swinging your way, until you couldn't.
You had had your back to the fight, running alongside two young children, guiding them to safety. You only managed to get close enough to building doors, shoving both the kids into the arms of bystanding adults, before getting a blow to the back.
You were launched several feet into the air, dropping back down onto the floor with a sickening crunch. Your mouth opened, letting out an agonizing scream of pain as your eyes filled with tears of fear. You attempted to move your head to face the fight, only for pain to shoot all through your entire body, letting out another shriek of pain.
Tears and tears of pain and fear continued to fall from your E/C eyes, calling out, more so screaming, for the only person you could think of, "Peter!"
Letting out another cry of pain, you screamed again, "Peter!"
Peter's attention moved from the Scorpion to the aircraft coming his way, along with the iron suit he knew all so well, before hearing his name being shouted.
His gaze moved quickly towards the source, only to find you a bloodied mess on the street, unable to move, and tears streaming.
His eyes widened, swinging to you as quick as he possibly could.
Peeling off his mask, his eyes filled with panic, grabbing onto you only to have you cry out in pain once again.
"It hurts, Peter," your head moved back as you continued to sob, "It hurts so much. Please, help."
"You'll be okay, I promise," Peter pressed his forehead to yours, "We'll make it out, okay? We'll be okay."
You felt his tears, that had begun to shed, drip onto your face, "I'm scared, Peter."
Peter reached his hand down and grabbed hold of yours, "I'm not going to let you go."
—
True to his word, he hadn't; although misfortunes came with the fact that you were still alive and breathing. As it turned, the central nerves in your spine had been struck, bounding you to a wheelchair for the rest of your life.
Of course, it took getting used to, on everyone's part than just your own.
Peter, though, had felt responsible for the whole thing. He found himself taking you to the Avengers Tower with him everyday when he trained, and back to his or your family apartments for dinner; never did he leave your side. Multiple times, you told him off for babying you at school; he even insisting on spoon feeding you your lunch during your first week back to school.
You had to admit, though, that the Avengers Tower was awesome.
You spent your time there in the training room, watching Peter either kick ass or get his ass kicked, doing your homework while at it.
But no matter how awesome it could be to be surrounded by the Avengers, you found yourself falling into a hole you never thought you would. Because of that, you couldn't be the same girl Peter once thought of as wise and insightful for helping him in his times of weakness. You scolded yourself for it, but couldn't do anything to change it.
There were days, like this one, where you'd go to the Avengers Tower and get a check up done by one of the best; Dr. Cho.
While you were placed on the bed, Peter sat beside you, speaking up solemnly, "Y/N," he took a breath, "I'm really sorry you have to keep doing this. I'm so sorry I couldn't help. I just-,"
"Peter," you gave him a small smile, "I'm fine. You saved a lot of people that day."
Your eyes stayed trained in front of you for a moment before you laughed lightly in disbelief, "Peter," you made the boy look you in the eyes, "You saved a lot of people, but some died. You beat up a lot of the Scorpion's men, but killed some of them. You're not beating yourself up over it. Peter, you didn't let me die, and you didn't know what was happening."
You smiled, laughing even more in joy, "Peter Parker, you are a great hero."
Peter looked at you in disbelief, your words ceasing to amaze him.
"Ahem," Dr. Cho cleared her throat before smiling lightly, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'm going to need you to leave the room, Peter."
"Oh, uh," he gave you one last glance before moving to the door, "Yeah, yeah. I'll just be outside, Y/N."
Walking out, he found Tony Stark waiting at the side of the door, startling him, "Mr. - Mr. Stark, what're you - what're you doing here?"
"Oh, me?" He gestured to himself knowingly, "Oh, I just came to check up on you and your little girlfriend."
Peter rolled his eyes, blushing a furious red while mumbling, "She's not my girlfriend."
"You say that now."
"Look," Peter sighed, "No disrespect, sir, but is this all you came to talk about?"
"No," Tony's eyes shifted to the door behind Peter, nodding at it, "We all have a reason to fight, and a reason to give up fighting; sometimes it's the same reason for both. If you want to give up fighting, then I don't blame you. Just say the word."
Peter laughed lightly, "Nah, I don't think I'll ever give up fighting; I'm too stubborn for that."
Tony raised his eyebrows, "Now, is that why you fight."
Peter shook his head, "For Y/-,"
He cut himself off from saying your name, realizing that maybe that wasn't the whole reason he did what he did. He realized that he fought for everything you taught him. He fights for more than just one person. He can't stop every death, but he'll sure as hell try his best. He can't always just beat up the bad guys to get them to stop, but he'll have to live with it.
He fights because he wants to prove to that part of himself that thinks he's just a little boy playing dress up that he'll be a great hero someday,
"To be a hero."
