You grew up heavily sheltered. First it was your strict parent then Peter took it upon himself to overtake that role. It wasn’t that you were dumb in any way, you always did well academically but you were a bit naive when it came to certain situations. There was no need for you to be able to realize if a classmate was trying to flirt with you if they were juveniles in Peter’s eyes.
Peter had to work harder in the beginning on steering you away, but it eventually got easier when all of the classmates were aware of exactly how far he would go to prevent it. Hurting you was of course worse than any flirting, and Flash Thompson was the first to learn what the consequences would be.
One second you were walking next to Peter to his apartment for your weekly sleepover trying to convince Peter to watch your favourite movie, and the next you were being shoved to the ground by Flash Thompson. You grunted as you barely managed to catch yourself with your hands. You repositioned yourself to be sitting, glaring up at the bully.
The fact that Flash felt comfortable laying a finger on you, let alone actually hurt you was completely unacceptable to Peter. The solution was not hard to think of, if Flash was using his hand in an inappropriate way it only seemed fair to break it.
Once that was taken care of, he ignored the sounds of pain behind him and focused on you. Kneeling down beside you, he held your hands in his. “Oh honey, got a bit scraped huh? I’ll fix you up as soon as we get to my apartment.” You sniffed, both from the pain in your hands and the shock from what you just witnessed.
You weren’t sure exactly how much force and strength was needed to break someone’s wrist but you were sure that with how scrawny Peter was it shouldn’t have been possible. It should’ve terrified you and the logical response would be to distance yourself from Peter but while you were scared it only worked in the opposite way. Your mind was stuck on what could happen to you if Peter ever wasn’t there to protect you. So, when Peter tried to stand up you panicked thinking he was going to leave. You clutched the end of his sleeve, pleading “No, don’t go-i. Peter-“. You didn’t have to beg for long before Peter was shushing you and lifting you to carry. He tapped your legs twice until you got the hint to wrap them around him. You felt his hand start to rub your back as he started to walk, smiling to himself when he heard you sigh with relief and practically shove your face in his neck. The two of you stayed that way for the rest of the twenty-minute walk home, your relationship shifting from that moment.