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imaginexmeintheuniverse · 8 years ago

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Just a Pretty Face

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: Steamy kissing? So much fluff you’ve been warned

Word Count: 12, 175

Summary: Reader is Peter Parker’s best friend and realizes they are hopelessly in love with him while sifting through all the milestones in the relationship.

Masterlist

A/N: This is my very first fic! I know it’s really long; I may or may not have gotten carried away. It’s mostly a series of memories leading to the point I guess? I read this over before posting it and cringed for my life but here goes nothing! I am a science student, not a writer so please forgive its crappiness. I hope you enjoy it!

I learned early on in life that being a female I’d have to face many more challenges than any male whether it was in a school setting, career or even buying a god-damned car. My mother told me that even something so mundane like buying car would be another challenge to face with sexist stereotypes. When a man walks into a dealership he is asked what kind of car he is looking for; the specs and all. When a woman walks into a dealership she is asked what color she’s looking for.

This being said, let it be known that I was always told how pretty I was growing up; relatives gushing over the ribbons in my hair, how I’d break a lot of hearts and assuming I’d want to be a princess when I grew up (aka implying that I would marry rich as if I didn’t have any career goals). My mother always made sure that I never let any of that get to me, hence teaching me that life will be tougher on me than any male specimen I will encounter. With all this being said, I decided to retract into my shell; throw myself into my studies and hide any evidence of outer beauty. I was tired of never being taken seriously, being told I was too pretty to be smart, teachers thought I was cheating off the kid next to me in class, but the worst was the way some people took the long way to get to class out of fear of running into my friends and I.

I knew being popular meant having an intimidating and glorified image but I didn’t realize until the beginning of sophomore how bad it was. I won’t get into the details right now but it was enough to smack me with a reality check like I should’ve had a V8. Always being the more quiet and reserved one in my group of friends it wasn’t too hard for me to alienate myself. After some much needed introspection, I realized that I lost my way and the people I called my friends didn’t really know me and everything was on the surface; shallow. I did a complete 180 on my previous reputation; from being part of the crowd who is envied and at the center of high school attention and gossip, to completely forgotten, as though I had never existed. This is exactly what I wanted.

I took drastic measures to disappear: I started by tackling that fear-of-missing-out attitude, hence the realization that my friends were all fake. The constant pressure of having to go to every party and cheerleading practice where we were the center of attention was exhausting. I missed dancing but sometimes I managed to catch the school dance studio empty and still took a few classes. Bless New York for being one of the dance capitals. The hardest was having to sacrifice my style. Not that I threw all my clothes out or stopped taking care of my hygiene, I simply just wore comfortable clothes to school. No more cute dresses or flashy outfits that are fully accessorized. I let my hair grow long, it didn’t really bother me since I always had it up in a ponytail or messy bun or covered with a hat. I never wore much makeup other than for special occasions like school dances or cheerleading purposes so it wasn’t that big of a hit to take. I hid any trace that I could be an “it” girl or cared what people thought of me.

It didn’t even take that long for me to stop being pestered to go to practices, parties or after-school mall hang outs. It’s been two years since then, it’s senior year now and I just have to stick it through so I can get out of the revolving shit hole that is high school. Macey was the only one who still talked to me from my old group, we’ve been friends since the second grade and she was the only one who really knew me. We didn’t hang out often, but when we did nothing between us ever changed.

So how does an adorable dork like Peter Parker come into all this? We were friends when we were kids and only lived a few blocks away from each other’s apartment buildings, not to mention my mother and his aunt were high school friends. We used to spend a lot of time together, almost best friends you could say, but come middle school and social hierarchies, we drifted I guess. With my transformation, came sort of a renewed friendship that awkwardly formed as we got to know each other all over again when I joined the mathletes and robotics club.

I supposed it could be classified as “going full nerd” although to be perfectly candid, I genuinely have always been interested in all that stuff and Peter and I have grown close through late nights of studying and binging on both food that was bound to one day give us heart attacks and whatever TV show we were currently into. We were both awkward at social interaction in general but our conversations had this natural flow and we’d always have something to talk about. When we didn’t there was a comfortable silence.

I am almost certain he had somewhat of a crush on me when our weird friendship started but I didn’t think much of it, since it would either disappear over time like my image of beauty or if it was real he would probably say something about it. Peter is without a doubt the cutest, however he clearly had a thing for Liz Allan. Who could blame him? She was popular, super pretty and kind; her mere existence could attract anyone.

Something did change with Peter during sophomore year, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, it’s as though he had this new found confidence. He probably never realized that I noticed he had grown into a more muscular stature, he was insanely strong and his reflexes were lighting fast. Whether it was our friendship reaching a certain level of comfort or the on-going internship he had with Tony Stark, it did him a lot of good. Of course he was still nervous and geeky Peter, that would never change.

“Have you been going to the gym or something?” I had playfully squeezed his arm.

“W-what are you talking about?!” he flinched away from me and all I could do was giggle at how red his cheeks got.

“I bet Liz will think that you’re a total hottie now,” I sang as I lean on him and fan at my face dramatically.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he pouted.

For some reason he’d still let himself be pushed around by the Neanderthals at school. I knew it was all an act because he didn’t hide his quick reflexes when we were alone or if some object came hurling at me he’d catch it. Like the other day, we were walking past an open basketball court on the way to his apartment and I saw the ball heading straight for my face but I froze. I would’ve probably had some sort of a minor concussion if it weren’t for Peter.

There have also been other episodes of strange behavior like bailing on me early when we’d go out, turning the volume low when we’d listen to music and always being so tired during our night hang outs. He was always the first one to fall asleep but I just assumed it was because he’s a sleepy child whereas I barely slept at all unless it was at Peter’s home, snuggled up to his side. The worst was seeing him with random bruises or scratches, which he refused to talk about. This worried me to no end. So I did my best and tried to treat his wounds whenever I caught them.

I guess he kind of was my best friend and I was his but was sort of an unspoken thing until I bluntly asked him around the summer of sophomore year when we were having our third Star Wars Marathon. I just straight up asked him around 3am while we shared a blanket. Despite it being extreme sweat-inducing temperatures during the day, that night was rather chilly and the small waste bin was filled with wrappers from junk food we had devoured. “Peter, am I your best friend?” I simply asked.

“Huh, wha- ehm I-” he said groggily. He had trouble keeping his eyes open, and here I was wide awake shooting out this question out of nowhere. Side note: I have my bouts of insomnia which he is aware of, so it didn’t surprise him that I was talking to him even though he was clearly falling asleep.

“Because you’re my best friend,” he sat up and rubbed his eyes awake as I realized how ridiculous I must sound, “d-don’t worry about hurting my feelings or anything, I uh, just wanted you to know.” I mentally slapped myself for sounding like a complete imbecile. Surprise, surprise I’m not really one to subtly hint nor am I one to “beat around the bush”.

“Yeah,” he simply stated. I had to do a double take because I was too busy mentally scolding myself. This kind of stuff means a lot to me considering I didn’t really have any true friends other than Macey so having someone who I could mutually call a best friend is a huge deal for me. Peter is the only person I trust to know all of me, all of my quirks and insecurities. I stared at him wide-eyed, so he continued, “well, I thought you already knew. Now, shhhhh, sleep is good.” With that, Peter closed his eyes, tightened the arm that was wrapped around my shoulders and sank us down to a more comfortable position. He stroked my hair absent-mindedly with his other hand and I somehow managed to fall asleep to the sounds of the Death Star being blown up.

When I say he’s my best friend, I mean no sugar coating, we have a cute friendship with cuddles and deep talks about life but it’s way more than that; it’s real. We fight, not often though and besides we couldn’t go more than two days without talking to each other and I can actually talk to him about real problems. We tell each other everything from daily embarrassments to the kind of cereal we ate for breakfast. Or at least I thought we did. Peter is the only person I trust completely because he is good. It’s a short reason but even though I knew he was hiding something from me, I trusted he had a good reason and it was what he knew to be the right thing to do.

I definitely was not shy about letting him know when it was that time of the month and I was especially not to be messed with. I kept my dancing to myself for as long as I could, but it didn’t take long before he found out.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a dance recital this weekend!” he had looked at me in total disbelief and I looked at him in wide-eyed shock, “Hell, why didn’t you tell me you still dance! I had to find out from Aunt May. Why. Didn’t. You. Tell. Me,” he was shaking me by my shoulders.

Oh mom, you did not…

“Because, it’s not a big deal,” I mimicked him by shaking his shoulders, “and you so don’t have to come.”

“Too late,” he said with a smirk, “your mom got us tickets.”

“I’m gonna-” as my hands were retreating into fist alongside my body, he trapped me in a bear hug before I could stomp away. He wouldn’t let me go until the frown slipped off my face and I gave into his hug.

Our friendship was slow at first, getting to know each other all over again. But once we did we got comfortable real quick. I don’t know exactly which moment specifically fast forwarded all that, it could’ve been his aunt inviting my family over for dinner when she found out he and I were friends again. The timing was really bad because it was during midterms (which we totally aced, just gonna throw that in) so Peter and I spent most of the night studying in his room, but he still took the time to play video games to entertain my little sister. Despite the dread of exams hanging over my head, the scene gave me nice warmth; my sister totally wrecking him at Mario Kart with his aunt and my mother catching up and conversing like they were still in high school.

It could’ve also been our first sleepover (not counting the ones we’d have as kids). It was my turn to choose what marathon and I chose Star Trek, much to Peter’s chagrin.

“You’ve never watched The Next Generation?”

“There’s no way will it be better than Star Wars.”

“You are ridiculous!” I utter as I slip the disc in.

A few hours in I could tell he was enjoying himself, so I nudge at his ribcage and look up to him with a pleased grin.

“Star Wars is still better,” he mutters.

Thus started a four-hour long debate with no resolution. It resulted with us on opposite ends of the couch, cross-armed and not talking to each other. That went on for a while with both of us stealing glances to check if the other was close to cracking. Over the span of an episode we ended up inching our way back, meeting each other halfway; literally but not figuratively. That debate is still not resolved to this day. We eventually fell asleep curled up together and my mom wasn’t going to wake us up to send him home that late.

From there, we slept over at each other’s homes whenever and got really close. When we’d hang out he’d always have an arm around my shoulder while marathoning and I’d curl into his side. We’ve fallen asleep countless times with my head nuzzled in the crook of his neck and his head resting on mine. Whenever we’d go places together in the outside world, I’d jump onto his back and we’d always hug each other for pictures and selfies.

All the physical affections were isolated incidents the first few times but became natural overtime. So we never stopped and it rose exponentially from there. We were so close that I wasn’t even surprised when I’d come home from a dance class to find him already studying in my room with the books already laid out on my bed, but for some reason he was still jumpy sometimes when I’d be waiting for him in his room. It goes without saying that there was evidence of our friendship all over our rooms; his hoodie slung over the back of my desk chair, my baseball cap hanging off his lamp, his biology text book laying on my night table, the list goes on, at that point we gave up on trying to return each other’s stuff.

Eventually, we got so close that from an outside perception we could easily be mistaken as a couple. There have been a few incidents where we studied really late and mistakenly wore each other’s clothes to school.

“Hey Peter, isn’t that hoodie a little short for you?”

“Did your mathlete shirt somehow grow in the laundry?”

We stared at each other wide eyed in embarrassing realization for a few seconds before laughing at our predicament. It wasn’t super obvious since my new wardrobe was basically the same as his. Except sometimes he was better dressed like when he wore button down shirts or nice sweaters. I usually just wore cardigans or hoodies over a loose t-shirt with a pair of jeans or leggings and sneakers. There was this one time where Peter found all my old clothes, which I didn’t have the heart to throw out, and asked me why I never wore them. I told him what I was wearing was just more comfortable. This was before we got as close as we are now but the subject never came up again, so I never told him why I had my change of heart.

Aside from having the other person’s crap all over our rooms, there was the previously mentioned physical aspect to our relationship. Most of these occurrences were accidents at first but soon became habits. Definitely never doing any of this at school, but when going out and in our natural home habitats, we started holding hands, giving each other quick pecks and I started to walk with my arms enveloping one of his around the elbow while smushing my face on his shoulder.

Peter had been wanting to see the dance center I take lessons at so I took him to Manhattan where it was located. Being used to walking the streets downtown, I’m an expert jaywalker, but Peter being the good boy he is, liked to wait for the lights to give the go.

“Come on, there are six seconds left! We can make it if we sprint!” I tugged at his arm.

“Not happening, Y/N, we won’t ma- gah!”

He stumbled a bit as I grabbed his hand and dragged us across the street with oncoming traffic. He looked totally petrified, probably thinking I was going to get us both killed. He was probably about to lecture me about why I shouldn’t jaywalk when I cut him off, “See? one second to spare we’re fine!”

I continued to lead the way down the side walk when I suddenly realized we were holding hands. I became really self-conscious about it and stayed quiet the rest of the way but he didn’t let go until it was time for me to attend the class.

The second time we held hands, Peter took me to the Metropolitan Museum of Art for my seventeenth birthday because I had been dying to go ever since I missed the school field trip due to being sick, which also ruined my perfect attendance record (I’m still sour about that). We were waiting in line for the pyramid exhibit and he had gotten a call from his aunt but I was so excited when it was our turn that I caught his wrist to pull him out of his daze. When he took a step forward, my hand slid down to his hand. He stiffened at first, making me all self-conscious again and my cheeks flamed up. Thinking he was probably freaked out by it, I started to loosen my grip but he simply laced his fingers through mine and continued walking.

That day was also the first time he kissed me (don’t get the wrong idea here kids). If it were up to me I would’ve spent the entire day there till closing time but Peter insisted we had to go back to my apartment, Aunt May saying there was some sort of emergency. Little did I know, while Peter took me to the Met, my mother and May had been setting up a surprise party back at home. I didn’t see anyone when I first walked through the door, so I made my way to the kitchen with Peter in tow.

“Mom, I’m home! What’s the emerge-”

“Surprise!”

I’m not a huge fan of surprises, but this was pretty great. Being a total spazz however, my hand quickly left Peter’s and went up to rub my forehead where I had smacked it on the kitchen doorframe. The pain subsidized quickly after seeing my family, Macey and May with their hands thrown up in the air over the table that was covered with decorations and food, including a cake that my sister baked. The party wouldn’t have been complete without my sister shoving my face in the cake immediately after I blew out the candles. Macey had to leave early, thus, I opened the presents with a face full of cake and icing. Not before making sure everyone else had icing on their faces as well. When it was Peter’s turn, I side hugged him and just full on smashed the side of my face on his. After opening Macey’s gift and thanking her, I walked her to the door to say good bye. I was happily surprised that Macey and Peter got along well during the party. While we alone, she not-so-subtly asked if he and I were secretly dating.

“Am I imagining things, or were you guys holding hands when you walked in?”

“What?! No,” I panicked. She raised an eyebrow, to tell me she wasn’t buying any of the bullshit I was selling, “I mean yes, but, it’s not what you think.”

“You guys are totally dating! Why didn’t you tell me?!” she gushed.

“We-we are not!” I yell-whispered as I took her outside and close the door behind me.

A shit-eating grin spread across her face, “Oh really? So you wouldn’t mind if he took someone else to prom next year?”

“Well, that’s kind of far away to even start thinking about, isn’t it?” Peter and I usually skipped out on the school dances, but I hadn’t really thought about prom. My mom would have my head on a stake if I didn’t go to prom. I figured Peter and I would go together but not together.

“That’s interesting, because I heard that after breaking up with her douche bag boyfriend, Liz is looking for a really nice guy. One who could clean up nicely in a suit. Particularly an adorable geek who’s had his eye on her since freshman year,” she drawled on, “of course she won’t make the first move, but if you’re telling me that you are 100% fine with it, I’ll tell her to go for it. She would never go for someone’s boyfriend, she’s not a man-stealer.”

“He is not my boyfriend!” I denied, “And everyone has had their eye on her since freshman year; she’s Liz Allan!”

“Whatever you say,” she sang, “don’t worry, I won’t give Liz the green card just yet.”

There was no way I was going to convince her so I rolled my eyes and hugged her goodbye before returning inside to open the rest of the gifts and eating cake. My mother sister and May had cleaned their faces already but Peter still had some icing on the side of his cheek and my face was still a complete mess.

I went to the bathroom with Peter, handed him a facecloth and wiped myself clean. I started laughing when I noticed that he kept missing a spot under his jaw even though he was standing right in front of the mirror.

“What’s so funny?”

“You keep missing it,” I giggled. I took a step towards him and pointed at the spot, which was utterly hopeless, so he handed me the cloth. I hesitated for a moment when I realized how close we were standing. Normally it wouldn’t bother me; I was used to Ned teasing us, but for some reason Macey’s words kept running through my head. I had to do something to fend off the awkwardness in my head and licked the icing off his jaw. Clearly not having thought it through, I didn’t mean for it to be sexy or anything. He jumped back in shock and I couldn’t help but bursting out in laughter.

He open and closed his mouth a few time to protest against what I had done, but I guess he couldn’t find the words so he picked me up and swung me around. As he put me back down I knocked my head on the towel rack in the same area as earlier and winced. Peter being Peter, became a nervous wreck and apologized profusely whilst wrapping his arms around my head and rubbing the small bump that started to swell. I continued to laugh.

“Okay now you must be delirious.”

“It doesn’t hurt that bad Pete,” I mustered out in between giggles.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you need ice,” he planted a quick kiss on the bump and I freeze. Before he could start nervously rambling, I slipped my arms around his waist and buried my face in his chest.

“Thanks for today,” I mumbled into his shirt.

“Any time,” he whispered as he rested his chin on my head. We stayed like that until my mom called us for clean up.

From there on out everything just kind of flowed.

Which brings us to present day along with the crippling realization that I had fallen for my best friend. Typical, I know. I don’t know when it happened or when I started noticing, but it just hit me like a ton of bricks as we speak.

After the rush of winter semester midterms and University applications, here we are lying on Peter’s bed listening to music. He’s sitting with his back against the headboard, bobbing his head and fiddling with my hair while my head rests on his lap and I drum my fingers on his stomach. I hate admit it as much as Peter hates to admit how much he secretly enjoys romcoms, but they weren’t kidding when they said all that crap about the love songs making sense. Maybe not “making sense” so much as having something, or someone, to relate it to.

Ever since my birthday this summer, what Macey said has been stuck in my brain. I have been repressing the hell out of it and it’s all crashing down on me now. I’m having one of those rewind moments where I’m tracing my steps back through the past few months to see where I let myself fall like a penguin trying to fly. I’m tracking how all the things we always do make me feel, for lack of a better word: different. My breath stuttered whenever he’d give me peck on my temple before running off, my heart raced whenever he took my hand, I’d get goose bumps when he traced random patterns on my back or arms. I found myself having an overall feeling of extra-lovely warmth that wasn’t there before when he was around and felt cold after he was gone.

“You okay?” as he asks this I realize that I stopped drumming and he must have noticed. Good thing he can’t hear how much my heart rate spiked, because I can hear it pounding in my ears.

“Y-yeah,” I manage to stammer out and remember what Macey said, “So, who are you taking to prom?” I see the tip of his ears turn pink.

“Well, ehm.. I haven’t really thought about it.”

This sends me into a nervous ramble, “Really? It’s in a couple of months and most people already have a date. Haven’t you noticed all the prom-posals around school?”

“Not real-”

“And most girls already have their dresses picked out.”

“Do you have your dress? Or a date?” his question stops me dead in my tracks.

“W-well no, and no, but um,” my rambling continues, “don’t wait too long to ask someone, or else someone else might ask them first,” I can’t stop my downwards spiral, “I heard from Macey that Liz doesn’t have a date yet, you should totally ask her.”

Oh my lord I’m a train wreck.

“Y-you think I should go with her? Would she even say yes to someone like me?”

“Yeah. Yes. You should. Macey also said Liz was kind of interested, in a way that I would interpret her saying yes to you. But um, you know, maybe you should talk to her first.”

It’s like I can see myself in the train wreck I’ve made of myself.

“I don’t think it’s going to happen,” he mutters.

“Oh come on, Peter, you’ve been ogling Liz forever,” I roll my eyes.

“You’re serious about this? What are you going to do for a date?” he takes a serious tone.

I sit up and face him, “Yes you are asking her. Stop being a chicken. As for the other matter, I don’t need a date.”

Can I please unsay all this?

“Oh, so you don’t need a date but I do?”

“Why are you pushing this? You’re infatuated with her, I don’t see the problem here!” my voice raises.

“The problem is,” he stops and clenches his fists.

I let out an impatient huff. I don’t know why I’m acting like this, it’s like I can’t stop it. Peter is always so patient with me and I’m usually just as patient but there’s so much going on my mind right now.

“Never mind,” he looks away.

“No, say it,” I press him.

“No! It doesn’t matter.”

I stand up and snap, “Stop lying to me! We’re not supposed to lie to each other. You always leave abruptly or cancel our plans last minute and then you look like you got the absolute crap beaten out of you the next day, and I doubt Tony Stark has you doing all those things as part of an internship,” I start packing my things into my backpack. I know I’m being unreasonable and suddenly changing the subject to be angry at something completely different, yet I can’t stop it at this point.

“Wait! I-I can explain,” he stands up frantically, placing a hand on my shoulder and turns me around to face him.

“What?”

“I, I” he opens and closes his mouth as if to say something, perhaps the truth. I guess I won’t know, because instead he looks down at his feet and says no louder than a whisper, “I can’t.”

The sound of his voice cracking paired up with the overwhelming amount of emotions, I can feel the sting of tears pricking at the back of my eyelids.

I will not cry. Not here, not now.

I swallow back the tears and coldly shrug his hand off my shoulder as I slip on the straps of my backpack. I only stop for a second to see Peter frozen, looking at me through his long eyelashes whilst his head still faces downwards. The sight makes my heart break. All I want to do is rush over to him, bury my face into his chest and tell him that I understand and forgive him, but I can’t. So I leave, closing his room door behind me.

It must have taken him a moment to process since we rarely fight. Ss I press the elevator button, I hear his front door burst open and Peter calls after me. He soon catches up, stopping right next to me to catch his breath. I plaster a stoic look on my face and stare at the unopened elevator doors, hoping he can’t hear how loud my heart is pounding.

“Look at me,” he pleads, turning me to face him with a hand on my shoulder like he did before. I refuse to meet those big brown eyes of his, knowing I’ll crack if I do. Instead I look down at the tips of our shoes that are only inches apart. “Please just trust me,” he pleads, bending down and angling his neck so his face is in front of mine. “Please.”

He’s got me trapped in his gaze and I follow it up as he straightens himself. I suddenly take notice of how our noses almost touch and how much I want to close the distance between us as the “ding” of the elevator drags me back to reality.

I shake my head, eyes closed to fight the tears and barely whisper, “I can’t,” my voice just as sad as his was when he said the same thing earlier.

I catch a glimpse of Peter through the closing elevator doors. He stands there frozen, staring at his hand as though I’d burned it. The tears spill out as soon as the doors close and I immediately wipe at them furiously so there’s no trace left when I get out.

This night will go down in the history of my life as one of the worst, my insomnia seems to be kicked into hyper drive because all I can do is replay the two seconds of the closing elevator doors. Laying on my own bed, I stare at the glowing stars on my ceiling but all I see are Peter’s soft features contorted in pain. Part of me wants to call him and tell him everything will be okay but the other part is hurt that he doesn’t care about our friendship enough to tell me what the hell is going on with him. That part of me also feels guilty. What kind of best friend am I that the kindest soul I’ve ever met can’t trust me.

Peter has been there for me throughout all of my now less frequent, but used to be almost daily anxiety attacks. It might seem out of character for him to be the calm and collected one, since in public he appears to be the awkward, bumbling geek. In reality, he was the one who made me feel safe; my rock. I can count on my hands the amount of times I’ve cried in the time that I’ve known Peter and he was there for all of them. Even a strong, independent young woman such as myself has moments of weakness. He was always able to calm me with his soft voice and soothing gestures.

The first time Peter witnessed one of my attacks was at school. We had barely started hanging out, mostly studying in the library and I had just started eating with him and Ned at their lunch table. It was the hands down one the most stressful days in my high school career with a test in every class and an oral presentation during last period was the awful cherry on the panic sundae.

I was re-reading my notes in front of Peter who was sitting with his chin resting on his fist with his elbow on the table. I was halfway through my speech and noticed he was staring right at me, or right through me. I turned around to see Liz Allen giggling wither her friends behind me and chuckled when I turned back to Peter who seemed to have snapped out of his daze, “Earth to Casanova Parker.”

He realized who I was referring to, “What?! No- It’s not-”

“You mean you weren’t just staring at Liz Allen?” I purposely said a little too loud for Peter’s comfort.

“Shhhhh! N-no-”

“Of course not,” I smirked, “now will you please time me, I was ten seconds over when I practiced last night and I am not letting that get in the way of my perfect term grade. Honestly, public speaking terrifies me and was my weakness. I did well in language classes up until it was time for presentations.

As our short break was coming to an end, the fear of speaking in front of people and the sleep-deprivation along with all the information crammed into my brain was getting to me.

"Are you okay?” Peter asked as he looked down at the index cards shaking in my hands.

“Y-yes, yeah I’ll be fine,” I stammered, “I think I just need to go to the bathroom to breathe a bit.”

I made my way to the bathroom with Peter following close behind, clearly not buying my crap about being fine. I tried to keep it together until I could get to the bathroom but I sprinted through the last hallway and flung the door open so fast it slammed against the wall. My hands started shaking uncontrollably and I felt the horrible familiar tightening around my chest that made my breaths short and ragged. Thanks to the warning bell, the bathroom was empty leaving the echoes of my unsteady breathing to be the only noise. I sank down behind the door, not caring if it hit me if someone came in, with my back against the wall and my head resting on my knees. Like most of my anxiety attacks, I felt like I was going to die. I tried to steady my breathing with no avail and started to panic more when the bell rang meaning I was late for class. My vision became blurred by tears welling up and my throat ran dry while tried to hold back a sob. Hearing everything but nothing at once, I felt like m head was going to explode so. After what could’ve been either a few minutes or an hour Peter burst in the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

“Where are you?!” he frantically looked through all the stalls before noticing my disheveled figure sitting in fetal position on the floor.

He tossed his bag and books on the floor and knelt down, placing a hand on my knee. I jolted up in surprise but relaxed a bit when I saw who it was. Up until then Peter usually got all nervous and didn’t know what he was doing, but this is when I first saw the side of him that would later become my rock. He only hesitated for a moment after seeing what a wreck I was; random hairs had been pulled out of my ponytail and my face was a mess of tears and redness.

“I want you to look at me,” he requested in the softest voice I’ve ever heard as he took my hands which were balled up into fists with my nails dug into my palms, “breathe with me okay?”

It’s like I was brought back down to Earth when I looked into his eyes and became conscious of what I must look like, which kicked it up to hyperventilation. “Slow down, just take a breath when I do,” he started to take deep breaths and I tried to follow. I started to relax, my grip loosened and my breaths only had a slight hiccup. When I became more stable he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me up to my feet. As soon as he began to pull away though, my knees wobbled and I collapsed into him. He didn’t even miss a step, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and rubbing slow circles on my shoulder with his thumb while I had my face pressed to his chest.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled into his shirt.

He pulled away, holding me steady by my shoulders, “What was that?”

“I’m sorry, I ruined your shirt.”

“Don’t be-” he stopped and peered down, “does that hurt?”

“Does what hurt?” I followed his gaze down and saw my bloody palms with little crescent shaped gashes. “I didn’t even realize,” I started to choke up out of shame. His hands slid down my arms to cup around the backs of my hands.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he curled his grasp around my wrists, careful not to crush my hands and led me to the sinks.

I was still in a bit a daze, so I let him guide me around and stayed silent as he rinsed off my palms and wrapped them up. Apparently he keep bandages in his backpack but I didn’t question it. His hands lingered, keeping my hands nested in one of his as the other traced over my palm.

Reality suddenly came crashing down on me as I started ramble nervously, “My presentation! Oh no, Mr. Matthews is so not going to let me off the hook on this! I’m going to fail, I’ll be booted off the dean’s list, my-”

I was silenced by Peter gently grabbing my shoulders, “Everything is going to be okay, I’ll take care of it.”

Peter scooped up my books, ignoring my protests and explained the situation to the teacher. Mr. Matthews was surprisingly understanding, but didn’t want to shift the presentation schedule around. That’s when Peter stepped up and volunteered to switch presentation slots with me even though he had another day.

“No Peter, you can’t,” I insisted. I wasn’t going to let him go, he was probably just as scared of public speaking as I was.

“It’s only a day. Besides, I finished my speech last week,” he assured me. Before I could tell him to sit back down, he went up and gave his speech.

It was then that it dawned on me how special Peter was. He swallowed his own fear and anxious feelings to make sure that I didn’t completely break down. There was something about him; something heroic.

I’m totally exhausted and barely made it through the week. It already took a lot of energy to avoid Peter considering he’s in most of my classes and extracurricular activities. Of course the universe couldn’t let me get away in peace though.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?” Liz surprises me as I’m closing my locker.

This is exactly what I need right now.

I definitely don’t hate Liz, in fact I do like her and we used to talk since we were in the same crowd, but like everyone save Macey, I haven’t spoken to her since sophomore year. “What’s up?”

She looks around to make sure the hallway is clear of any potential eavesdroppers, “Do you think Peter would want to take me to prom?” when I don’t answer she continues, “Sorry, it’s just that Macey said I should ask you since you’re best friends with him.”

“Uh, well-”

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry, he’s probably taking you right? I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes, I just think him and I would get along well, but if you two are-”

“No!” I cut her off, putting my hands up for emphasis, “No, were not dating or anything. In fact, I think he would love to go with you. He’s just too shy to ask.”

What the hell is wrong with me?!

“Oh, great!” her eyes brighten with excitement, “There he is right now, I’ll go talk to him. Thank you so much!”

I look back to see Peter walking towards us with an awkward wave. Naturally I bolt, but not before Liz pulls me into a quick and awkward hug.

“Peter! Just the man I was looking for,” she bounds over to him.

“Oh uh- Liz! H-hey!” I hear Peter fumble for his words in the distance. I don’t dare look back while I make my escape to the dance studio.

Despite the fact that I hadn’t slept at all last night, I know that I sure as hell won’t be able to sleep now. Much like Chandler suggested, I dance my troubles away. I’m a little sloppy and slow due to pure exhaustion, but it’s lifting a weight of my shoulders. I’m finishing off with stretches to make sure I won’t be sore later when I hear to studio doors open. Peter walks in with his hands shoved in his pockets and all I can do is stare at him as I continue stretching.

“Mind if I stretch with you?” I don’t say anything in response and go back to stretching. He sets his bag down next to mine and sits next to me, copying my movements. I’ll never understand how he became so flexible. After a few minutes, Peter decides to break the uncomfortable silence, “Liz asked me if I was going to prom with anyone.”

“She asked you to prom?” I say nonchalantly.

“Well, sort of. She kind of asked me to ask her to prom,” he scratches his head, “like strongly suggested that if I asked her she would want to go with me.” When I don’t respond he continues, “So I guess I’m actually going to prom with Liz Allen. Unbelievable. We’re, um, also going on a date soon.”

My movements stutter only for a split second when he tells me this. It’s like I’ve been hit by a ton of bricks. I finally speak up, “A date, huh? Sounds like you’re pretty serious about her.”

“W-well, you know, were just going to- Hey wait! Where are you going?”

I can’t take it. I want Peter to be happy but right now I’m hurting and for me to be okay, and for us to go back to the way we were I can’t be around him right now. Once I’m over him everything will be okay.

Who am I kidding, I’m not getting over him.

He rushes over to where I’m pulling my sweater over my head and getting ready to go home. He picks up my bag before I can, but I’m so not in the mood for this right now, “Peter, give me my bag.”

“No.”

“Give. Me. My. Bag.” I try to sound threatening but my tone falters near the end.

“No,” he repeats softly, “not until I know you’re okay. Did you sleep at all last night?”

“I’m fine,” I reach out to snatch my bag but he moves his arm out of my reach. Damn his reflexes.

“You,” he knits his eyebrows in worry, “are not fine. Don’t even try to lie, I can see the dark circles under your eyes,” I notice the dark circles that rest under his own eyes and I know he didn’t sleep either, “and I need to know that we are okay.”

We stay there, eyes locked, breathing being the only audible sound. Until I can’t stand it anymore. I want my best friend back. I know he wouldn’t dare touch me in fear of me pushing him away again, so the call is mine to make. I crash into him so hard, practically leaping to wrap my arms around his neck. He stumbles back a bit in shock, then drops my bag to the ground to snake his arms around my waist, holding me up so that the tips of my toes barely touch the ground and buries his face in the crook of my neck.

“Gross, Peter. I’m all sweaty,” I mumble into his shoulder.

“Don’t care,” he tightens his arms, “are we still on for Friday night movie marathon at my place?”

“Duh,” I lightly shove him playfully, “don’t be silly.”

Today was Peter’s date with Liz. I spent the last week or so since Peter and I made up slowly distancing myself from him, meaning I haven’t been sleeping much. I blamed it on university applications. He is probably out with her right now, meanwhile I have an interview for a summer internship at Stark Industries. I’m hoping it will continue when I’m at NYU next year since the location is convenient being close to home and all. Peter probably forgot about it since he helped me with my application a while ago.

I dug through my old wardrobe and matched a navy summer dress with a light grey cardigan. I admire my the perfection of my neat bun in the mirror after tucking in a few flyaway strands. I wanted to look nice for the interview and enjoy the warm weather. I’m pretty sure the interview went really well, and I might end up working alongside Peter during the summer. I walk out of the building with a sense of confidence when I bump into someone.

“Peter?” he looks just as surprised to see me here.

“What are you-” an expression of realization crosses his face, “Oh right! How was the interview? I bet you did great! You look…” he looks me up and down.

“What? Is my hair messed up? Do I have something in my-”

“No! Not at all! You look,” I swear his cheeks get a little bit of a blush, “wow. I-I mean good- you look good.”

This in turn makes my cheeks turn bright pink. “Thanks Pete,” I giggle. I suddenly remember his date, “aren’t you supposed to be out with Liz right now?”

“Uh, yeah,” he runs a hand through his hair, “it was earlier, but um, it ended.”

“Oh, alright. You wanna hang out? Did Mr. Stark call you in for something important?”

“Yeah, but if you don’t mind waiting it shouldn’t be long,” he smiles.

With a smile and nod I walk over the cafe across the street.

I’m just about finished my cup when Peter waves at me through the window. I can’t help but smile at how cute he looks in his two-toned short-sleeved button down and simple blue jeans. “We kind of match.”

Looks down at his outfit, then back to me, “Yeah we do,” he chuckles, slinging an arm around my shoulders.

“I know you’re my biggest fan and all, but you’ve got to stop copying me,” I laugh as I hand him the coffee I got him. He presses a hand to his chest in mock-hurt before taking the cup and thanking me. I hadn’t really noticed before how toned his arms had become since he usually wore sweaters or cardigans over his t-shirts.

“I forgot,” he slides his hand into his pocket as I loop my arm around his elbow, “Aunt May is out of town for the weekend so I have to go grocery shopping. It was last minute, so she didn’t have time to go.”

“Sure I’ll go with you. Maybe I should also supervise your cooking since it didn’t go so well last time,” I poke at him.

“It wasn’t that bad…”

All I do is look up at him with my eyebrows raised and an offended expression take over his face.

“The muffins didn’t turn out that bad,” he tries to reason.

“You’re lucky the fire department wasn’t called,” I smirk.

“Yeah, well,” he searches for a comeback while tossing his empty cup in a nearby trash bin. He can’t seem to find a reply so he settles on pinching my cheek with his free hand.

“Hey!” I can feel my cheeks turn red from the pinch. Possibly also from the contact.

“You,” he grins, “are adorable with a blush on those soft cheeks of yours.”

I stick my tongue out at him as his fingers release their grasp and he throws his head back, laughing in triumph. Are we flirting? Peter Parker flirting with me. We’re best friends; we tease each other all the time. I’m probably over thinking it because of my feelings so I push the thought to the back of my head.

We both laugh the rest of the way to the subway station and listen to music off my phone while we wait. We sit in the same position we were walking in; his hands in his pockets with my arms loosely looped around one of his, but my head rests on his shoulder and our legs are pressed together. I find myself staring off into space. I probably wouldn’t have noticed that the subway had arrived if it weren’t for Peter sliding his hand out of his pocket and taking my hand, tugging me along.

We take our seats still connected by our hands and earphones. I lean into him to resume the way we were sitting before, this time with our intertwined hands resting on his lap. He strokes up and down my thumb with his, the soothing gesture making my eyelids feel heavy. I could be imagining things, but I swear I felt him press a soft kiss to my hair line as I doze off.

I wake up to Peter gently squeezing my hand and softly repeating my name, “Y/N. We get off on the next stop.”

I lift my head off his shoulder and blush when I realize I had fallen asleep. I look up at Peter who tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear and turn to face an elderly woman with kind eyes beaming at me.

“This is my new friend, Ruth,” Peter gestures towards her.

I introduce myself to her and shake her hand before Peter and I stand up to exit the cart, having arrived at our stop. She bids us a lovely day on our way out.

“What was that all about?” I ask Peter as we walk through the automated doors of the local grocery store.

“Made a new friend,” he smiles, “she kept me company while you were being a sleepy head.”

“Sorry,” I chuckle, “haven’t been getting much of break from my old friend, insomnia.”

“So, where do we start?”

Face him with a big grin on my face, “Grab a cart.”

Grocery shopping with Peter is a blast. I’m surprised we didn’t get caught fooling around with the grocery cart, taking turns pushing each other and running through the aisles. His aunt left him some money and a shopping list for some food items with a bit of extra cash for some goodies of our choosing.

Once we had calmed down a bit and actually started collecting the food, I see one of the girls I dance with is shopping with her mother. She smiles and motions for me over.

“Be right back,” I let go of Peter’s hand and make my way to go greet her.

After a quick exchange of hugs and after I’ve introduced myself to her mother, she immediately leans in closer to me and gushes, “Is that your boyfriend? You didn’t tell me you had such a cute guy in your life. You guys are so adorable!”

My face must have turned into the same color as the tomatoes her mother was picking out, “Oh, oh, Peter? He’s not my- We’re just-”

“The cutest thing ever?!” She hadn’t seen Peter yet since she was new to the group but all the other girls had talked about the pair of us, constantly teasing me. “And he’s coming over right now!”

My face somehow turns a few shades darker when I spin around to see Peter approaching with the cart. While I’m too flustered to properly process what’s going on, she sticks a hand out and introduces herself. They make small talk for a few minutes, Peter shoving his hands in and out his pockets and occasionally running a hand through his hair out of sheer awkwardness. Her mother calls her over a few aisles and she bids us goodbye, walking away giggling.

“I think we have everything,” I say, hoping my face has returned to a normal color. Peter and I stroll over to check out and walk over to his apartment.

Cooking with Peter turns into a huge mess since neither of us quite know what we’re doing. “We have two of the highest GPA’s in the area, I’m sure we can figure this out,” I try to reassure him as I nearly sliced my thumb off two seconds ago. I generally don’t spend much time in the kitchen other than eating, but I know how to bake pretty well. Which is why I decided to let Peter take care of the cooking while I bake cupcakes. Okay, well more like he laid out all the ingredients for me and would not let me near the knife again.

Peter is horrible at baking considering he nearly burned down the kitchen last time, but not a bad cook. Actually, the food he prepared is surprisingly decent.

“So your date? How was it?”

“Good,” he smiles and then quickly changes the subject, “How’s my cooking?”

“Not bad Parker,” I grin.

“You’re too kind,” he chuckles sarcastically.

Finishing that off and cleaning up, it’s time to ice the cupcakes. I’m not as great of a pastry chef as my little sister, but I still like to get artsy with the decorating. We decorate in a comfortable silence, quietly passing the tubes of different colored frosting back and forth. I finish off my fourth cupcake, add it to the plate of decorated pastries and realize that mine are the only ones there. I glance over to see Peter attempt to draw something that just ends up looking like a blob.

“Having some trouble there champ?”

“No,” his brow creases in frustration as he struggles to squeeze the icing out of the bag.

I chuckle, “You don’t need to squish the bag so hard,” I lean over and place my hands over his, “relax a little.” He hesitates for a moment before letting me loosen his grip and apply a light pressure to the bag, “See? Just go with the flow.”

I let go and watch him finish cupcake. It looks like a blob surrounded by smaller blobs. “What is that supposed to be?”

He looks at me incredulously, “It’s a heart.”

“And what are those?” I motion to the little blobs.

“They’re little hearts,” he scratches his head.

I laugh as he sets his cupcake next all my other ones with a pouty face. I grab my tube and dab some icing on his nose in an attempt to wipe the frown off his face. He looks at the pink dollop cross-eyed which only makes me laugh more. He wipes it off his nose with a finger and tries to bop it on mine. I push his hand and he ends up smearing it across my cheek instead.

“This means war, Parker,” I giggle while spattering icing of every color all over his face. He does nothing to stop me and ends up looking like a rainbow threw up on his face. “Ah yes, my greatest masterpiece,” I sigh, licking the icing off my fingers. I’m about to swab some off his cheek when he grabs my wrist and pulls me into a hug, squishing his face to my cheek. “Peter!” I yelp as try to wiggle out of his clutches.

“Oh good,” he pulls back to admire his work, “I didn’t get any on your dress.”

“Meh,” I shrug indifferently, “I have other clothes here anyways.”

“But I like your dress. You look really nice today,” I blush from the compliment which sends him into a nervous ramble, “ I remember you used to dress like that before and I know you still keep all those clothes at the back of your closet, how come you never wear any of it?” I look down remembering I never told him about any of this, “I-it’s just that I was wondering because- It’s not that you don’t always look nice- I think you always look great- I just always thought you hated wearing dresses or something-” he takes a deep breath, “Sorry I’m babbling-”

“It’s fine,” I look up to him, “I’ve ever told you about it.”

I lean back with an elbow on the counter and tell him my reasons for ditching my old friends and style. “I love wearing both my old style and whatever I wear now, but no one takes you seriously; I’m just another pretty face otherwise.” Peter stays quiet and lets me go on, “That’s why I always have my hair up and wear clothes that drown out my form, I’m tired of being cat-called in the streets or being groped at parties; I definitely don’t miss any of those,” I laugh a bit at the last part, averting my eyes in an effort to combat the awkwardness I felt in confessing all this. “I know it sounds ridiculous-”

“Not at all,” he interjects. He takes a long step towards me and I tilt my head up realizing that we stand less than a foot away from each other, “Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?”

“I didn’t think you’d understand the first time you asked about it,” I notice that he’s slowly inching closer, “I guess it just never came up again.” He’s leaning down, our noses are barely two inches apart. He probably doesn’t even notice. “We should probably finish decorating the cupcakes and clean this up, or finals will be the least of your worries,” I awkwardly laugh and busy myself with the cupcakes. He hesitantly goes back to decorating.

After his third cupcake, Peter gives up on icing. He watches me from across the counter with both his elbows on the counter top and his face in between his hands. “If you’re just going to watch me, maybe you should clean yourself up,” I giggle, the dried frosting on my face cracking. He laughs at this and disappears to the bathroom.

Peter comes back just as I’m adding the final touches on the last cupcake with a wash cloth in one hand. I barely notice that he’s wiping my cheek, being concentrated on the marble design I’m trying to achieve. I can’t help but let out a giggle as I place the last cupcake on the platter; seeing the obvious difference between my work and Peter’s. I offer him one the cupcakes I made and he devours it almost immediately, “This is the best cupcake I’ve ever had,” he gestures to me, “you need one too.”

I take a moment to observe the options and settle on the first cupcake Peter decorated. I flash him a cheeky grin as I show him my choice before eating it.

We clean up the mess we’ve made in the kitchen and settle down on the couch with the cupcakes among other sweets covering the coffee table and a movie playing on the television.

“About earlier,” Peter breaks the silence, “you said you had to hide your beauty for people to take you seriously-”

“I didn’t say I was beautiful,” I stop him, hoping I hadn’t come off as that vain.

“No, but,” he pauses for a moment, “you shouldn’t care what people think. You have one of the highest grade point averages in the school, you’re incredibly talented and you should be able to do all that and be confident regardless of your appearance.”

All I can do is stare at him. Say something. I can feel the heat rising up to my cheeks.

He scoots closer to me, “I noticed you dressed differently, but it didn’t even occur to me that you were trying to hide your beauty because-” he stops short to take a deep breath, “Because I think you are always beautiful.”

My face feels like it’s on fire. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” I look away and cover my cheeks with my hands.

“No,” his hand reaches up to gently tug elastic off my head, letting my hair cascade down in loose waves created by my bun. I let my hands drop from my face to my sides and study his face as he tucks a strand of loose hair behind my ear. “Your hair’s gotten so long,” he says quietly while sliding his finger all the way down the strand of hair as though to measure how long it is.

I am totally frozen. Shit.

He raises his hand back up to push more hair that has fallen over my face. His hand slowly comes to a halt, cupping the side of my face. He scans my features, “I’m not just saying that.”

I try to resist the urge but our faces are so close I let my gaze quickly diverge to his lips and then to my shaking hand. I’m so far gone, my heart is pounding in my chest and I try to steady my shaking hand by balling it up. Peter sees this and takes my hand in his free one. My hand relaxes almost instantly. My eyes barely have time to look back up at him before I feel him press his lips on mine. It’s quick, but gentle. He pulls back and releases his hold when he sees that my eyes are wide in shock.

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-” he turns back to face the TV and curses himself out, “Shit! I’m such an idiot,” he mutters under his breath, burying his head in his hands.

There are so many feelings circulating within me, the most prominent one being joy and I can’t contain a giggle when I acknowledge the possibility that he might feel the same way I do. Hearing me, it’s his turn to widen his eyes and become totally confused. Feeling a rush of confidence, I reach out, grab the collar of his shirt and slowly pull him back up to brush my lips over his.

He starts to ask, “What are you-” I cut him off with a kiss. A long one.

It takes him a moment to react. He kisses me back and he puts his hands on either side of my face. Shakily at first, but they steady and become firm as he deepens the kiss. I pull back to catch my breath and rest my forehead against his. I peek up to see his eyes are still closed and a slow breath escapes his slightly parted lips. “Wow,” he sighs, opening his eyes. I let out a small laugh as I snake my arms around his neck.

He slides his warm hands slide down my neck where he pauses to push my hair off my shoulders, proceeding to smooth it down until he reaches the small of my back and pulls me closer. Just as he tilts his head and closes his eyes to kiss me again, I remember that he was just out with the most sought after girl in the school earlier today. “Peter,” I draw my face away from his a few inches, “what about Liz?”

His eyes fly open, “Oh right,” I start to pull back but he holds me firmly in place, “I told her I couldn’t date her or go to prom with her.”

“Why? You’ve had your eye on her for so long,” I ask wandering why he’d ever want me over her.

“But you’re the one I care about,” his grip loosens to give the option to back away, “a lot.” His eyes lower as if he expects me to leave. Fat chance.

I jolt forward, crashing my lips into his. He moans out of surprise at first, then tightens his arms around me. I move my legs onto his lap so that we can somehow be even closer than before, our torsos fully pressed together. I let my fingers roam through his hair and deepen the kiss. Things get heated but remain mellow and soft at the same time.

Eventually, we need to take a breather. Peter leans back into the couch, pulling me with him by my waist. I lay my head on his shoulder and plant a quick kiss on the crook of his neck before nuzzling into it. He brings a hand up to stroke my hair as he softly presses his lips to my forehead.

“I really like your hair,” he whispers, “you should leave it down more often.”

“Maybe I’ll start wearing clothes that don’t always look like pajamas as well,” I murmur into his neck, “speaking of, I want to take this dress off.”

“Uh…” I look up and see Peter’s face is beet red.

“N-not like that!” I panic, “I meant pajamas! It’s pretty late,” I point that the clock indicating that it’s almost midnight. Wow. We had been kissing for a bit over an hour. I stand up with the shade of my cheeks matching his, “Mind out of the gutter Peter Parker!”

I’d be lying if I said that I am currently not the most flustered I’ve ever been in my life. I am in love with my best friend who is the person I trust the most and am closest to, but I don’t want to rush into things. I want to take it slow; at our own pace.

He laughs nervously as he stands up to take my hand and lead me to his room where he hands me one of his t-shirts and a pair of leggings I had forgotten here. I go to the bathroom to change while he changes in his bedroom. I make my way back to his room to leave my clothes with my purse on his desk. Assuming that he would take less time than I would to get changed, I end up walking in on him with his shirt stuck and his arms in the air.

“You’re supposed to unbutton the shirt genius,” I quip as I step closer to undo the rest of the buttons and pull his shirt off.

“I got lazy,” he laughs. I become immobile when my attention is brought to the fact that Peter is toned, shirtless and right in front of me; we’re talking only a few inches separating our bodies. I can’t help but let my eyes wander over every inch of his torso, memorizing how small shadows were cast in the small dips between muscles, a few thin outlines of healing scratches and scars that never would, every angle; every detail. Just like I had done with every feature of his face over time. He flushes noticing that I’m basically checking out his half naked body, but just stands still other than lightly shivering under my slightly cold fingers that brush over some fading bruises on his abdomen.

“What the hell did you do?” I say quietly, “Who did this to you?"He puts his hand over mine and guides it up to his lips to press a kiss to my palm before swiftly throwing a t-shirt on. I approach him once again, lifting his shirt and shamelessly examining the brown and purple marks that stain his pale skin, "I’m serious, what is this?”

He sighs, recalling our last big fight, “Please, today was perfect,” he cups a hand around my jaw, looping his index behind my ear, “I don’t want us to fight; especially not now,” he plants a kiss on my forehead, “I promise I will tell you really soon, just not now. Please trust me.”

I find myself lost in his warm eyes. Peter must have a good reason for not telling me, so I decide to hold him to his promise and let it go for the time being. My arms wrap around his neck and press the side of my head to his chest. His heart beats fast but steady. His hand wind around my waist to pull me into a tight hug as he buries his face into my neck.

I figure that if he was brave enough to kiss me first I should have enough courage to tell him how I feel “Peter,” I begin.

“Hmmm?” he hums in my ear.

“I-I,” just say it, “I love you.”

“What?” he pulls back and gazes at me with an unreadable expression. I have no idea whether he feels the same or if I just freaked him out.

“I-I said,” I stutter, “I’m in love with you.”

He leans closer, “What?” he whispers with a shit-eating grin plastered on.

“Not saying it again, you heard me that time,” I frown.

He lifts me off my feet and kisses me passionately. He literally swept me off of my feet. I’m breathless when he sets me down and says, “I love you too.”

It’s like a tsunami of both joy and confusion hits me in that moment. How long has he felt this way; I thought he liked Liz since freshman year. “I thought you liked Liz; you’ve been ogling her for the longest time.”

“W-well I did,” he rubs the back of his neck, “but a long time ago, haven’t since. ”

“I caught you staring at her just the other day at lunch,” I deadpan.

“I wasn’t looking at her…” My jaw drops.

“You were- Wait- Me?” I point at myself in disbelief. Had I really missed all the signs? I knew we were really affectionate, but the more I reflect, the more I realized how blurred the lines of our friendship have been.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “but I couldn’t very well tell you that, now could I?”

“Why didn’t you?” I pout.

“I had no way of knowing how you felt about me, and I value our friendship too much to risk it. Not to mention that you are- well you. ”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” I raise an eyebrow, “Am I that scary?”

“Sometimes,” he grins, “I’m Peter Parker; the geek and you are- well you’re considered to be way out of my league. It took a major confidence boost to kiss you back there.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“So am I.”

I push myself onto my tip toes and smile into the kiss I press to his lips.

“What does that make us now?” I ask him as we snuggle into each other on the couch back in front of the television.

“Best friends? I guess- I don’t know,” he starts to panic a bit.

“Let’s just go with the flow,” I smile, softly repeating my words from earlier and he instantly relaxes.

“Go with the flow,” he repeats in a whisper as his lips gently kiss my temple.

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