wedding bells, eventually ✦ peter parker
summary : peter has big plans for you and him, one day. hopefully.
word count : 1.9k
@radicalstars omg thank u for requesting i loved this !!
One of Peter’s earliest memories, the type of memory that was so grainy and vague you could hardly recall any of it except brief flashes of pictures with no words attached, was attending the wedding of Aunt May to Uncle Ben. He doesn’t remember it quite well, but from the pictures in her wedding photo album, he was the ring bearer and wore a little tux that May says he hated so much that he practically ripped the tie off him without undoing it after the ceremony was completed and it was time for the reception. He wished he could remember it more properly now, not just because it’d be another memory with Uncle Ben residing in it, but because as he grew up he developed an odd sort of fascination with weddings. It wasn’t necessarily because he had an intense desire to marry- though, after meeting you that had certainly changed- it was more because he thought it was a genuinely beautiful ceremony and just seeing two people unite under love that way made his heart actually quite happy. So, when he and May were invited to the wedding of the young couple that lived across the hall from them and thought that Peter and his aunt were the sweetest people ever, he was extremely excited.
So excited, in fact, that he bounded down the hallway less than thirty minutes after receiving the invitation outside the door, despite May telling him not to do that because it might be considered strange, and knocked on their door. He even implored them to allow him a plus one, the plus one being his love that he couldn’t possibly go to a wedding without. Since it was Peter and he had this adorably innocent, genuinely always happy way about him, they agreed almost immediately to his request of bringing you along.
He called you to ask if you could go on his way back to his apartment. He had left in such a hurry that the door was still ajar when he walked in with his phone pressed between his shoulder and his cheek as he pushed the door open and gave May a thumbs up and an enthusiastic smile. “So- so they just like said yes to me right away and I’m really happy about it and now I get to take you to a wedding so, can you come with me? I’d be so so happy if you could but if you can’t-”
May could hear you through the phone interrupting her nephew’s soliloquy loudly- “Peter! Peter, slow down babe, yeah I can come, you just have to give me a minute to answer-” Peter laughs all the way to his room, his phone still balancing precariously there on his shoulder while he carries a plate filled with way too many snacks into his bedroom, bumping the door closed with his heel. May smiles to herself while she returns his attention back to the show playing on the screen of their small television.
He knows it could be seen as impolite by someone who doesn’t know how startlingly courteous he is a boyfriend, and as a person, but Peter can’t help the low whistle that he performs when you approach him outside his apartment building the day of the wedding that he’s been chattering about on and off for a few weeks now. He giddily jogs over to you, intertwining his fingers through yours and giving a gentle squeeze. He brings your hand up to his lips and kisses your knuckles, pulling them away from his mouth so he can take a deep breath as he gazes at you in all your devastatingly wondrous beauty that sometimes he can’t even begin to comprehend. Overwhelming as it is at times to have an incredible, beautiful person such as yourself be as in love with him as he is with you, Peter counts himself as one of the most fortunate people in the universe.
He opens the car door for you, May already situated in the driver’s seat, and although Peter could ride shotgun if he wanted to since you insisted that you didn’t mind he counter-insists upon sitting beside you in the back. “Y/N, you look so pretty, Peter did you tell say that she looks pretty yet?” Peter casts a glance at May that’s somewhere between whining without actually making a noise and concealed anger, but he’s never really angry at May. He just wanted to be the first one to disclose how particularly gorgeous you appeared today.
“I was going to,” he mumbles as May starts the car. The way you smile at him is that of a shooting star now that he comes to think of it; slowly, mesmerizing, brilliant, blinding. There’s nothing he can do but smile back, though he’s sure his painfully shy- still so shy, after all these months- curling of the lips is not nearly as enamoring as yours. It is, in your opinion. “You- you look beautiful. You’re gonna outshine the bride.”
You bite your lip at that, doing a little head shake. You twist the ends of your hair around your finger. “Aw, Pete, she’s gonna look stunning, I don’t wanna even think about overshadowing anyone. It’s her day, you know?” Your hand curled around his, you lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek. “But thank you. You’re the best.” His face scrunches up much like a kitten when you kiss his other cheek, too. May has another secretive little smirk on her face as she adjusts her front mirrors, but you act like you don’t notice. You know she’ll tease you endlessly if she realizes that you noticed her watching, so the two of you have an unspoken agreement to never really address these situations save for a small comment about how much she loves you, and loves you with her nephew.
“Well no worries, ‘cause when you’re the bride at our wedding no one will ever even come close to outshining you.” May nearly slams on the breaks of her car just as you look back at Peter with eyes widened. He has a hand out in front of him on top of the headrest of May’s seat, alarmed as he says, “Woah, May, are you all right?” She turns back to you both with an embarrassed shrug before placing both hands on the wheel again. “Weird,” Peter mutters, his arm wrapping around your shoulder. He turns to stare out the window, as if he hadn’t just said what he did. As if you weren’t internally screaming because Peter Parker just admitted that he envisions himself marrying you one day and it scares the hell out of you but also, you’re so thrilled about the fact that the part of him that needs things meticulously planned out far in advanced has included you in his idea of a future? For his sake, for yours, you rest your head on his shoulder and pretend that what he said wasn’t a big deal. You’d talk about it later. Well, if he brought it up again.
Which he would. He was sitting there beside you tapping a rhythm with his foot and wondering if you had heard him, if you were just ignoring him because of embarrassment, if you really hadn’t heard him, or if you had understood what he had said and were no choosing to be silent because your version of a future didn’t include him the way he wanted it to oh so desperately. He kept tapping his foot. He made the decision to say it again later. It couldn’t hurt.
You’re in the middle of the ceremony when he whispers it again, but this time more casually so he can gauge a proper response from you, to see if it frightens you in the way he had been overanalyzing it in his brain. You, him, and May sit somewhere in the middle of the succession of white lawn chairs for the outside ceremony, and Peter’s arm hasn’t left your waist for more than a few seconds at a time to clap respectably at the right times and to stand when the bride came drifting down the aisle. He watches the groom’s lit with happiness face and then he watches your face, more serene but still glowing like usual. He leans in toward your ear as to not disturb other guests. “That’s gonna be me someday,” he whispers, eyes darting back toward the groom. Your hand finds his again.
“I’d expect nothing less,” you reply softly, following the movements of the bride as she takes her place in front of her soon to be husband, her beam so genuine and pure. Peter nods at your response, a bit disappointed before you say, “Who… who do you imagine being the, um, the bride?” You inquire, a note of hesitance in your voice indicating everything Peter needed to know.
You just needed the confirmation, which he was happy to give. “I was thinking you.” He knows it’s awfully rude of him to talk during a ceremony of this manner, but he can’t help it. “If that’s okay, of course. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
A carefully tucked away bubble of laughter rises up in your throat. You push the incessant thing back down for fear of being considered impolite, and Peter catches a glimpse at that adorable expression you make before you laugh anyway, so it’s almost like he heard the sound despite it not actually being audible. “Peter Parker, I would be honored.” He bounces a little in his seat, because when he’s overly excited it’s downright impossible for him to sit still, and he rests one hand on your cheek as you continue looking forward. He kisses the side of your face quickly then takes his hand and places it back in it’s proper position; gripping yours.
“I know it’s early but,” he pauses so he can listen to the vows being exchanged. It’s his favorite part of a wedding, even if he’s only been to two. Three, counting this one. He thinks about his vows to you would be eighty seven pages long, respectively. There’s no one he could downsize it. When the bride says her last few words, Peter continues, “I really really can’t wait for our wedding. I just know it’s gonna happen. And I’m so ready for it. Not, like, now obviously but you know, in a few years, when we’re still in love and we know more than ever that we have is permanent. I’m ready for that.”
You’re too lovesick to form a proper reply. You’re afraid that if you open your mouth, you’ll start crying. It wouldn’t seem too improper if you did; weddings often left guests teary eyed as they made their way to the reception. Either you’d cry, or you’d let out a loud squeal of joy and hug the life out of this boyfriend of yours that keeps saying the sweetest things to you. He leans further into you, his head tilted to rest against yours. “You’ll look so beautiful up there. More so than you do right now, if that’s even possible.” He sighs wistfully, then places his other hand on your knee reassuringly. When you’re flustered, you have a hard time forming a coherent sentence, so he understands why you’re not saying anything now. You’re saving the sweet words you always deliver for when you’re sitting back in Peter’s room in a few hours in your sweatpants and stretching out on his bed like its your own. “One day?” He looks to you for the confirmation.
You kiss his forehead, your lips lingering there for a second. His eyes close at your touch. “One day, for sure.”
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