The White Pallax (Peter Parker x Reader)

IX - Talk.

It's been a week since Thanksgiving break. You stare out the window of your Spanish class. It's snowing. Strange to think that just a week ago it was sunny and warm. Not that you don't like snow. Blankets of white across the ground, frosty designs glittering on the trees. But that's when it's done storming. When it's not gray and bleak. As bleak as you feel.

You turn your head forward. Peter sits a few seats in front of you. It's been a while since you've talked. In fact, the last you spoke was when you kissed him. And you don't know what it means or how he feels. Or how you feel for that matter. It feels like he's been ignoring you. Not texting you, not calling you. Not hardly even looking at you. So does he not care? Do you mean nothing to him? Annoyance tugs at you. Maybe you should make him jealous.

No, you scold yourself. That's not the way to solve this.

But you almost don't want to talk to him. For one, you're petty enough to give him a taste of his own medicine for however long it lasts. Two, you don't want to somehow influence his decisions or feelings with your words. You have no idea where that power came from. And you still haven't told anyone. You don't know what to make of it.

The bell rings. You angrily shove your books into your backpack and head for the door. Peter doesn't wait for you. Or even look back at you.

"Espera, Y/N." Your teacher calls.

You walk over to her desk. "Yeah?"

"Your accent is very good, you know. And your Spanish is flawless. Are you sure you should be in this level?"

You nod. "Yeah, yeah. I just study hard."

"Well, maybe you should tutor Peter Parker. He's not doing so well."

Seems unlike him. "Uh, yeah maybe. I dunno."

"You're friends, right?"

I thought so. "Yeah. Sure. I can help him."

But you probably won't. For the rest of the school day, you mull over whether you should approach him or let him figure his shit out first. When it gets to lunch period, and he doesn't even acknowledge you as you stand in the middle of the cafeteria, you make up your mind. He can come to you.

So you take your tray and sit down with Flash and his obnoxious friend. You put on the fakest, flashiest smile you ever have in your life. His shocked expression is all you need to weed your way into his life. After a few minutes talking with him you risk a glance over at your usual table. Ned and Michelle have their backs to you. But for the breifest moment, you catch Peter's eye. Sadness emanates him. You think maybe anger too. But it doesn't matter because he's finally looking at you!

Maybe jealousy is the way to solve this.

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Two weeks. It's been two weeks now since you'd been kidnapped. Two weeks Peter hasn't spoken to you. He wants to. The entire time he wanted to. So badly. But he couldn't. Even now, sitting in chemistry class, he longs to speak to you. To apologize for being such shitty friend. He stares at you, just a row ahead of him. You glance back and he immediately averts his eyes. He can almost feel your angry glare burning holes in his chest.

Peter's mind wanders back to the morning he'd rescued you. You had literally talked your way out of captivity. Under other circumstances he might have asked you about it. Those circumstances being you knowing who he is.

That same day, after you'd had a heartwarming reunion with Tony (that Peter will deny happily looking on at) your uncle had come to speak with him.

Tony flew right in through Peter's window in his suit. Startled, Peter shot straight up in his bed. "Ah, what the hell?"

"What the hell is right, Parker!" Tony raved. "You let her walk home alone?"

Panic clenches in Peter's stomach. "What are you talking about?"

"Someone took Y/N!"

"What?!" He exclaimed, that panic spreading throughout his veins. Not you. NO. No.

"You should have been there for her! It's your fault she got kidnapped in the first place!" Tony fumed. "She's always sneaking off to you, putting herself in danger! But that's it. I forbid you from ever talking to her again."

"But-" Peter protested.

"Talk to her again, and you lose the suit forever. Got it?"

And then he was gone.

Now, you're spending all your time with Flash. Flash! He can't believe he'd driven you into the arms of that asshole. Seeing you all flirty around him? It makes him want to punch a wall. Not just because it means your kiss meant nothing, though it meant everything to him. But because you're crushing on him even after what he did to you! No one deserves a guy like that. You least of all.

But he can't lose the suit. And if not being your friend means you're going to be okay, then maybe it's for the best.

Halfway through class, you scoot your chair out and storm over to Peter. No one really looks up from their work. Michelle just continues with your project completely disregarding the fact that you've left. Peter quickly shuts the drawer that holds a relatively new serum for his web fluid. It pops back open without him noticing.

You grab a chair from an empty lab table and plop down next to him. Anger blazes in your eyes. Somehow, it makes them prettier. But Peter won't say that. He turns his attention to Ned, but he's already asking to go to the bathroom. Obviously he senses the tension between you and him.

"So," you finally say, after what seems like an eternity of silence. "What the hell is up with you Parker?"

Peter turns a page in his notebook. Don't talk. Don't talk. Don't look at her.

Your foot taps impatiently. "I'm not leaving until you talk to me, Peter. I can't have my best friend just avoid me out of the blue. Granted we've only been friends for a couple months. But still."

Still, he says nothing. But he does meet your eyes. Progress, you think.

After a minute, you prod on, your voice low. "Is this about the kiss? Because if you've changed your mind Peter, it's okay. I won't hate you."

He opens his mouth. The hurt that's overtaken your features is enough to make him want to tell you everything. Tell you anything to make that expression go away.

You lace your fingers together and set them on the table, leaning closer to him. "Talk, Parker."

Peter knows he has to. He sighs. Tony is going to have his head.

"Okay. I'll talk."