you notice him. he can't help but notice you too.
---
He's going to be late.
Peter's been repeating this to himself since he'd woken up this morning, alarm blaring with giant red numbers reading 8:13 A.M. He had made sure to set extra alarms, each one with a different tone, and had managed to sleep through them all.
So, he'd jumped up, shoving himself into the outfit he'd had laid out the night before, hauled his backpack onto his shoulders, and grabbed his keys before leaving his dorm room and making a mad dash for his class. He'd woken up so late he didn't even get to fix himself the tea he had planned on making.
He is so going to be late. And on the first day of class, too. Fuck. Right about now, he's questioning what compelled him to sign up for an 8 a.m. class. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but as Peter just about manages to arrive outside the building his class is held in, he's cursing himself out.
He risks a glance at his watch and winces. 8:23. There's a part of him that cringes at the thought of walking into the lecture hall, knowing all eyes would immediately be on him. Peter had been so hopeful for the first day of college. But now he'd be labelled as the kid that was late to his first class. Fuck fuck fuck.
He doesn't want to go in.
He does anyways, of course. Sucking it up and moving along, he wraps his hand around the door handle and pulls.
Creeeaaaaak.
He wants the ground to swallow him whole. The groaning of the door stops once Peter slips inside the classroom, only to start again as it closes behind him. But when he looks up, he's surprised to see that no one's even spared him a glance. The professor is still speaking, pencils are still moving.
A breath. Thank God. He makes his way past students, scouring the rows of people for an empty seat. There's someone occupying each and every seat he comes across. He's just about ready to give up hope when he spots an empty seat a few rows up, right next to someone in a giant grey hoodie.
Peter approaches the person, nudging their forearm gently. "Um, is anyone, uh..." He trails off, awkwardly rubbing his neck. Please please please let me sit here. They glance up at the touch of his hand.
"Yeah, sure." They move their things over to give him room. He settles into his seat, pulling out the colorful notebook labeled Psychology, and gets to work writing notes immediately.
The class passes much quicker after that, but Peter can feel himself dozing off periodically when the professor pauses his lecture. He really wishes he'd woken up earlier. He's grateful the class ends when it does, hundreds of students pouring out of the room almost instantly.
A sigh leaves him as he puts his things back into his bag.
"Hey, um-" Another book lands beside him. When he looks up, you give him an encouraging smile. "You, um, you missed a few topics...before you came in." You shrug a shoulder, holding your backpack strap on the other. "So, uh, you can copy mine? Like, I can give you my notebook and you can give it back next class, o-or you can take a few pictures, or I can take a few and send them to you!"
Peter doesn't say anything, instead choosing to stare at you with wide, curious eyes. He didn't think anyone had noticed him come in, despite the noise he caused. But you had, and you're offering to help him. No one else had done that. You're an angel.
The smile on your face drops as suddenly as it had come, and you begin reaching for the notebook. "And you probably think I'm weird and was watching you and am just trying to get your number! Okay, um, sorry for tha-"
Peter shakes his head, also reaching out to grab the notebook. Your hands brush against each other's, and you both jump back as if you'd been burned. "Uh, yeah, I can give you my number? And you can just text me the notes I missed, i-if you want! You, like, totally don't have to-"
"No, I will!" Your eyes fall from him to the floor. "Um, it's no, no problem." Slipping your phone from your back pocket, you hand it out to him. "Just, like, put your number in..."
His hands are shaking so bad Peter is worried he'll drop your phone. He's not used to this, meeting new people had never been his forte. Sure, he could be as brave as he wanted when he was Spider-Man, but now? This was all new. Peter Parker was Spider-Man, but at the same time, Peter Parker was not Spider-Man.
He types in his number slowly, double, then triple checking to make sure he'd put in the right digits. "Here you go", he mumbles, handing it back to you with pink cheeks.
"Peter." You whisper his name to yourself with a smile. "I'm Y/N."
"Nice to meet you, Y/N." Y/N.
"Great! I'll, you know", you hold the device up, wiggling it, "text you." You smile, turning around and head for the door of the classroom.
Peter watches you leave, rooted in his spot, smiling like an idiot. Because he may have just made his first friend in college.
—
Throughout the next week and a half, you talk a lot more than either of you had expected.
You text him the notes he'd missed, just like you'd said you would, and the conversation continues. It's mostly about things either of you didn't quite understand during class, but when Peter slips in a joke about how nasally your professor sounds, you both relax.
The next time you two see each other is in the library. Peter's busy looking for a book for his art class, fingertips brushing over the spines as he walk. He becomes so focused he doesn't notice the person on the other side of the bookcase until he hears his name being called.
"Peter!"
He looks up, startled, but his shocked expression morphs into a smile when he notices it's you. "Hey, Y/N." His finger snags on the corner of a book as he tries to come up with something else to say, and it, along with a few other books, comes crashing to the ground by his feet. Well, at least he has an excuse for not speaking.
"Shit." He bends down, stacking the books one on top of the other, cheeks burning. How was it that he'd managed to make a fool out of himself again, and it was only his second time seeing you in person? He can feel the eyes of everyone in the library on him.
You're knelt beside him before he can blink, adding the last stray book to his stack.
"Sorry, I'm just, really clumsy all the time and", a pause, "I'm embarrassing myself aren't I?" He's almost certain his cheeks have never been this red in his life.
You bump shoulders with him, standing as he does. "Nah. At least, not to me." You survey the people around you, most giving the two of you dirty looks. "Not so sure about them though."
Peter sets the books on the shelf gently, stuffing both hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth on his feet. "So...what're you in here for?" You look confused for a second. "Not that you're, like, not allowed in the library or anything! You can totally be in here, just wondering-"
There's a loud shushing sound from the corner of the library, leaving Peter silent, and you giggling quietly.
"I'm picking up a few anatomy books. You?"
"I'm, uh, an art major, so. Looking for something for a project", he says.
You beam up at him. "That's so cool, Peter." He shrugs. "Seriously. You should show me some of your work sometime." Internally, he's freaking out. Because you do not need to see the crappily one sketches he has, especially the one he'd started of you.
But he finds himself nodding anyways. "Yeah, sure. That would be fun." No it wouldn't. It absolutely would not, why did I say that? He supposes there's just something about you that leaves him wanting more. "So, um, do you need any help looking for your books?"
Another smile. "Please." You lead him to the section of books you'd been picking through, naming off a few titles you needed. It's easy to start talking from there, about how he's liking classes and how you're undecided for a major at the moment. "I don't really know what I want to do yet. I want to branch out, I guess? I just want to make sure that when I do pick my major", you sigh, "I want to make sure I know that's what I want."
He likes that answer. It's nice to know someone who's as undecided about their future as he is. After everything that happened last year, he's grateful for that.
After you collect all of your books and his, and Peter offers to carry every single one, you leave the library still chatting up a storm. Something about the way you smile shakes him to his core. And he knows he's not supposed to think this, because he's just met you, but your one of the prettiest people he's seen.
He doesn't tell you this of course. Even if he wanted to, he doesn't get a chance.
"Hey, Peter!" Ned. He tilts his head at his friend, who jogs up to them with a goofy smile upon seeing you by his side. "See you've met Y/N!" Ned holds his fist out for you.
You laugh, and bump your fist against his. "Hi, Ned."
Peter's eyes flit from you to Ned. "You know each other?" Does he sound jealous? No, no, there's not a chance he does...right? The smirk Ned gives him makes him scowl the tiniest bit.
"Yeah, we have a few classes together. We ate lunch together the other day, which was really nice because I don't really know anyone other than you and him. I'm...not very good at making friends." Which Peter almost doesn't want to believe, because how could anyone not want to be your friend?
Ned takes Peter's silence as a queue to begin speaking again. "Well...if you don't have anything to do right now, Peter and I were meeting a few friends for lunch...if you want to some along."
I'm gonna kill him.
Peter opens his mouth to intervene, but you're already shaking your head excitedly. I'm screwed. He was going to spend an hour with you, in a sandwich shop, with his best friend right next to him, probably embarrassing him even more than he'd already managed to do.
You glance up at Peter. "That'd be great, actually. That saves me from eating lunch in my dorm, or even worse", you grimace, "the cafeteria." Not that the cafeteria was a bad place. It was very clean and had surprisingly great food. But he knew what you meant. He'd been the kid with no friends to sit at lunch with before Ned came along.
So, Peter grins, nodding his head. He's still got your books in his hands, which are getting sweatier and sweatier as he think about lunch. It's with the really pretty person from his Psychology class, but holy shit, it's with the really pretty person from his Psychology class.
"That sounds amazing!"
—
You look beautiful when you laugh.
Peter decides this about fifteen minutes into lunch. You haven't talked much since you've gotten here, most of your attention on Bryce, Ned's boyfriend, but every few minutes you catch eyes, and it's enough for him.
When you'd first arrived, you'd looked around in awe at the sandwich shop. Apparently you'd never been. Rhodey had taken him and Ned a few weeks before they were scheduled to move into their dorms. They had fun, they talked a lot. About Tony. He misses him. About last year's events. He misses her.
You were nervous about ordering, so you had Peter do it for you. You told him you trusted him to make the right choice, so he got what he did his first time, what he'd gotten every other time since visiting. He felt like a kid in a candy store when you told him you liked it.
"So, Peter." Ned pats him on the back. "How you doing this week? I know we share a dorm, but you haven't really been there a lot." His best friend gives him a pointed look. "You promised me, Rhodey, and Pepper you'd try to be home more."
Peter wets his lips, anxiously looking up to make sure you weren't paying attention to them. "I know, I just...", he sighs, "I just like to be there, just in case. I know this isn't Queens, just...if I'm not there, what'll happen?"
Ned huffs. "The police will get them?" His eyes soften the tiniest bit. "I know how you are about this, since last year, but it's better here. We made sure of that. So, just try to come home more?" He smirks. "Unless you're spending all your time with Y/N-"
"I'm not!" Peter elbows him, glaring. "I'm not, I just have psychology with her. That's all." But that's not all. You glance up again, and smile at Peter when you lock eyes. That's so not all. "I'll try to be home more, just quit with the jokes."
"Who said they were jokes?"
Peter groans, pressing his hands to his cheeks. "Shut up, Ned." He checks his watch, releasing a puff of air. "I've got to get back, I need to start sketching out ideas." Grabbing his wallet, he pockets it. "I'm gonna head out."
You jump to your feet at his words. "Oh, I'll come! I've got some things to do back at my dorm anyways." You shuffle past Bryce. "Nice to meet you! Bye, Ned, see you on Wednesday!" Your arm brushes against Peter's as you stop beside him. "Let's go?"
The breeze feels nice on his face, calming him. People bustle around the two of you, talking on phones or holding binders and textbooks. It's loud, but Peter doesn't mind. He doesn't do too well with quiet now, anyways.
"I'm glad I went to lunch with you." He takes careful notice in the way you say you. Not you guys, but you. Just him. It fills him with a strange kind of warmth.
He mumbles a soft reply, "Yeah, me too." The two of you cross the street, and some protective part of him reaches out to grab your hand as you do. Maybe it's reflex from days spent out with May, or maybe it's just because it's you. He doesn't question it too much.
You look surprised, Peter tugging his hand back a little at that. "S-Sorry, I-" But you don't let go. Not even when you've reached the other side of the street. He hides his smile by looking away.
"It's okay." He's so, so screwed.
He walks you the rest of the way home filled with glee. You reach the outside common area too soon. "Do you want me to walk you back to your dorm, or...?"
You shake your head, letting his hand fall from yours. He misses the warmth, although he's not sure why. Friends. "No, it's alright. Thank you, though, for lunch. You and I should do it again soon."
You and I.
"Yeah. Yeah we really should."
—
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—
It's the next week when Peter is sure he's doomed.
He's tried his best to keep any and all feelings away. The beginnings of a teeny crush had been pushed to the back of his mind. Getting too close so soon isn't good. He doesn't want a repeat of last year.
But it seems the universe hates him.
He shows up to psychology early, notebook and black and blue pens in one hand, a travel mug of tea in the other. Peter's there early enough that he can pick his seat, wherever he wants. He chooses a seat right in the middle row, close to the exitway. The rest of the class starts pouring in, and pretty soon the room is filled.
You drop into the seat next to him as the professor starts talking. When you smile, Peter tries his hardest not to show how happy he is you sat next to him.
"Today, you're getting assigned your first collaboration assignment." They explain the work in detail before grabbing the binder in front of them. "Pick your partners and get to work, I've emailed you the other information."
The room gets loud as the words leave the professors lips. People around the lecture hall move around, getting into pairs. Peter glances worriedly at his peers. He doesn't really know any of them, except for, well, except for you.
"Do you want to be my partner, Peter?" Why do you have to sound so hopeful? Spending more time with you sounded great, like a dream, but Peter was positive that you managed to pull him in too easily. Spending time alone with you would surely lead to disaster.
"Yeah!" He flips his notebook open as you open up the email you'd been sent. You begin rambling about the topics you can choose from, a gleam in your eye.
"Oh, and we can work on it out of class, too, obviously. We can go back to the shop and work, or-or we could go to the library and study while working and kill two birds with one stone." You grin. "You're really cool, so I'm glad you're who I get to work with on this."
He's so, utterly, terribly, horribly screwed dammit.
"I'm glad it's me, too."
—
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