Peter Parker Imagines Book

Pineapples

mindless meet-cute anyone??

Stupid pineapples.

The sound of metal carts crashing violently against each other was loud and obnoxious as you yanked one free from the grocery store corral. A grumble buzzed in your throat, low and annoyed. For a moment you paused, your eyes darting around to make sure you could spare yourself the embarrassment that would be someone having seen you taking out a short burst of anger on an inanimate object.

An attempt was made to rub the remaining sleep from your eyes, to little avail. A heavy sigh left your lips as you rubbed your temple, keys jingling softly next to your ear as you turned to steer your cart toward the large automatic doors. Silently, you cursed your roommate and his stupid cravings and his stupid pleas and his stupid willingness to pay for the entire shopping trip. Pretty privilege at its finest.

It was too goddamn early for this, that's for sure. But you also weren't insanely stoked to keep playing a game of Find Something Edible every time your stomach growled for some food. The last three days have been some of the worst of your life. Your full body shivered at the thought of the cabinets with week old stale chips and the refrigerator with only a few McDonald's ketchup packages haphazardly skewed on the door and the special, most totally nice smelling, Mystery Smoothie that held an entire shelf hostage back home.

Needless to say, a grocery run was much needed. You missed moving about the kitchen, preparing meals actually meant for human consumption. As it seems, your culinary childhood was something of a hard habit to shake even as you moved away from home for school. Cooking was a nice escape for when you needed a break; and in college, you needed one nearly every day. Not to mention, it's always a plus to not eat the same thing in a tortuous loop day on end.

Never again, you made a silent prayer as you entered the store. You were done with life living as a scavenger. Three days were more than enough. You had never been more ecstatic for a payday.

Not that you even had to wait until your check to come in, it turned out. How you could forget your roomie—your best friend—was the son of a literal billionaire, was an enigma all in itself. You blamed it on the combination of lack of sleep, lack of proper food, and the inhuman amount of studying you had conducted the last few days.

The hum of the lights overhead and whirring of the A/C unit were quick to become an annoyance from the moment you stepped inside, but they were only a small price to pay as your gaze immediately tracked to the produce section, your feet already moving of their own volition. It would be an understatement to say that you struggled to keep your mouth from salivating in anticipation. Your stomach twisted in protest while your mind cranked out recipe after recipe. You were making a feast of a breakfast when you got home. And because a shiny sleek credit card currently sat in your front pocket—courtesy of your resident rich kid—there wouldn't be any harm in buying the good stuff. There was nothing wrong with taking a little revenge you know would go unnoticed.

Especially since he pulled you out of bed at five in the morning all because he wanted pineapples.

Debatably, the want for pineapples was justified. Still, you didn't understand the ungodly hour. You had given up asking why he was even up in the first place. You weren't going to try and make any sense out of it.

A perk to shopping this early, however, was the lack of people surrounding you. You normally tried to stray from making late night trips unless it was an absolute emergency since late night grocery runs were pulled straight from horror movies, so you usually wound up going after your classes were out for the day. But a near empty store in the morning was an entirely different experience. The fact that you could look out the windows and see daylight was an immense comfort, and the silence and occasional squeak of cart wheels was oddly calming rather than disconcerting.