The Rose's Thorns (Peter Parker x reader)

Part Three

A few minutes into your search for MJ, you still haven't found her, and the combined mash of bodies and loudness is making you hyperventilate. You shove your way outside, the ground starting to spin beneath you.

You don't exactly know how, but you managed to get yourself onto the roof. As you sit there, you can't help but to pray to whatever or whoever might be listening that Spider-Man won't show up and you won't have to kill him.

---

"Is he dead?"

Being bombarded by your dad the moment you walk in the door on whether or not you'd killed a fellow sixteen-year-old is not good parenting, in your opinion.

"No."

"Why isn't he dead?"

"He never showed up." You cross your arms, trying to keep the exasperation out of your voice. If Adrian—your dad—heard even the slightest hint of "attitude" in your voice, he'd probably yell at you even more, as all parents do. (At least, that's what you've gathered from TV, books, and the few times you've had that slight bit of "attitude" towards him.)

"Why didn't you kill Peter, then?"

"Because I didn't see him all night. I saw him when he arrived, and then he disappeared later." It's only a half-lie. You saw him when he first showed up with MJ, and then you spent the rest of the night on the roof. MJ wasn't the happiest about you ditching her, but she did say that Spider-Man never showed.

"Why is this taking you so long?" asks Tess, appearing behind Adrian.

"He's a difficult person to kill, what with his Spider-Sense or whatever. It's been a month and a week, Mom."

"It normally takes you two days. Get on with it." Adrian huffs.

Your parents walk away, leaving you in the doorway.

After going to your room and changing into more comfortable clothes, you lie on your bed and open your phone. As you stare blankly at your home screen—which is your favourite Avenger, Natasha—you wonder what you actually planned on doing with the phone. You drop the phone beside you, sighing.

You're about to turn off your lights to sleep when someone knocks on your door. "Come in."

Brooklyn lightly shoves the door open, closes it, then sits on your bed, dangerously close to sitting on your toes. You move your feet over a bit. She looks over at you, her eyes eager. "How was the party?"

Of course that's the first thing she wants to hear about. You smile slightly. "It was... Eh. It was eh. I don't really know how to describe it."

Brooklyn looks away, disappointed.

"In my defence, I spent most of the night on the roof."

"What would you do that for?! You get a night to yourself with other people your age and you go sit on the roof?!" She sounds outright appalled now.

"It was loud!"

She rolls her eyes. "You listen to music at full volume in your headphones! What the hell does 'loud' mean to you?!"

You sigh. She has a point there. "I have a headache," you say. "Can I go to bed?"

She sends a glare in your direction. "I am going to harass you all day tomorrow for more information."

Brooklyn flicks you on the side of the head and leaves you yelling, "What the hell was that for!" after her.

You curl up under your blankets, getting comfy, until you decide you want to watch a show. But you don't want to get out of your warm nest to get your laptop. But you want to watch your show.

But—

You mentally roll your eyes at yourself. It's one am! Go to sleep! You get up and grab your laptop as fast as you can anyway, getting back to your bed quickly.

You connect your headphones and find the show you were going to watch, content, ignoring the pestering from Brooklyn and boring lectures from your parents you'd have to go through the next day.

---

"Hey, Peter," you say, sliding into the seat next to him the Monday after Liz's party. (You'd convinced Ned to switch spots with you for a class.)

"H-hi?" He smiles nervously at you and you smile back, trying to look anything but evil. "What do you need?"

"Nothing. Am I not allowed to sit next to anyone other than MJ?"

Peter shrugs. "It's just that we don't talk much. I thought you might've wanted something."

"I just wanted to hang out with you."

"Okay." He turns to the front, looking at Mr. Harrington as he starts the lesson.

You zone out as Mr. Harrington starts talking. Your conversations with Peter were always short, awkward, and sometimes a little embarrassing. You didn't know how to change it. You have no social skills when it comes to getting someone to like you.

Well, you think, that's what happens when you grow up with only three other people and barely interact with people your age.

You sigh and Peter turns his head to you, resting his chin on his hand. "What?"

"Just thinking."

"About what?"

You could play this one of two ways: You could say something safe, like, Anything other than this class, or you could make up a lie to try and get him to have a real conversation with you.

Well, you're screwed if you don't at least try.

"Spider-Man."

His super-sense thing is gonna go off any second and he'll kill me right here.

Peter turns his body ever so slightly towards you. "What about him?"

Dammit. You hadn't really thought that far into your plan. "I don't really know. He's pretty cool, you know." Peter nods.

"Peter, (Y/N), why are you talking while I'm teaching?" Mr. Harrington asks, stopping his lesson. Everyone turns to look at the pair of you. Flash smirks and you resist the urge to electrocute him.

You bite your tongue, not wanting detention.

Mr. Harrington goes back to his lesson after a second. Peter writes something on a slip of paper and passes it to you.

We could continue the conversation at lunch.

Peter's watching you as you smile, just not for the reason he'd like.

You flip the note over and scrawl your answer on the back. Sure.