The White Pallax (Peter Parker x Reader)

III - Revenge and Relaxation

"So what're you guys doing for Thanksgiving break?" You ask, shoving an entire dinner roll in your mouth. It was something you picked up from Tony when you were six. Your dad was impressed and thought it was hilarious.

It's been nearly a month since your first day. You've gotten a lot closer with your small band of nerds. And Flash still has yet to take his revenge. Now, though, you've stopped worrying about it. He's not worth the pain.

"We were thinking of having a dinner between the four of us at my place," says Peter. "What do you say? Everyone else is on board."

You nod. "Yeah I'd be down. I'll check with my uncle, but I'll probably go regardless of what he says."

"You don't get along well with him, do you?" Peter asks.

You shrug. "Well enough. I love him and all but sometimes he can be a bit overbearing. And I feel a bit in his shadow. He's so smart, always inventing things. I try, but I'm just not good at it."

"You're good at lots of things, though. Hardly anyone has a knack for technological advancements. Trust me."

"Yeah!" Ned agrees. "You're really good at Spanish!"

You snort. "Ned, that hardly counts."

"Well, you're really good at English then!" He offers.

You roll your eyes but laugh lightheartedly. He's always trying to brighten your day, or make you laugh. As lunch drags on, you find your stomach hurting with laughter. And as you listen to Ned and Peter rant about Star Wars, you find yourself leaning on Peter's shoulder. At first you hardly notice. It's just comfortable. But the second you realize what you've done, you shoot upwards and try to hide your blushing.

Peter glances at you and smiles, but says nothing about it. Butterflies flutter in your stomach. You grit your teeth and digest them. For the past few weeks, you've found your stomach knotting every time you look at him. At his adorable dimples. His contagious smile. His captivating brown eyes, that when you look into them you feel at home. But you have no idea if he feels the same. So you try to kill the feelings. So far, you've been unsuccessful.

The last bell of the day rings and you dash out of AP Lit to meet up with Peter. As always, he's waiting for you by your locker, the same doofy smile plastered on his face. You wave at him and beam. Warmth tingles in your veins.

"Sup loser?" You greet him with a light punch to the shoulder.

He puts his hand over his heart, feigning offense. "Loser? Y/N, how could you?"

You laugh and open your locker. "So, I texted my uncle, you know, about Thanksgiving? He said it was fine as long as I spend some time with him the day after. We were just planning on the one day, right?"

Peter nods, his curls bouncing. You giggle to yourself about it. "What? What's so funny?"

"Nothing, you're just cute," you reply without thinking. As soon as the words pass your lips, your mouth goes dry and your hands clench the door of your locker. Holy shit, what did you just say? You can't even find the words to stammer, let alone smoothly recover from that.

"Aw," Peter teases, "you think I'm cute."

"Hm," you reply, gaining back your suave. He thinks it was just a joke. You can work with that. "Yes, I suppose that is what I said. Lying can be really easy, can't it?"

He laughs. It sends a jolt of joy tingling through your veins. "Alright, alright. I get it."

You pull some textbooks out of your locker and shove them into your backpack. "I'm kidding, Peter. You're adorable. It's one of the reasons I adore having you as my best friend."