In Which You Surprise Yourselves
Peter Parker x Reader
Prompts: “You’re really soft.” “You look incredible
in that.” “Can I kiss you?”
Or in this case: touch that sets your nerves on fire.
Summary: Peter asks you to Prom. All of those accidental touches finally peak, building over the years and finally turning into something more. 2.5k words
Peter is 18.
Warnings: We gettin’ a little hot and heavy in this
one folks. But not cliché, so don’t get too excited, you hear? [Y/N] too good
for lovin’ on Prom night. Respect yo self.
Not going to lie, little nervous about this one, so, be nice.
It was the night of Senior Prom. Your nerves were in tangles, stomach doing flips as you took one last look at yourself in the mirror. Initially, you’d gone around telling everyone that you weren’t going to this stupid dance; you didn’t want to go. You’d even made plans with your mom, expressing to her that no one was going to ask you anyway, and you didn’t want to spend the money on the whole dress thing. You had been trying to sell it to yourself. You had every intention of sticking to your guns until Peter had asked you to go with him.
You looked up from your book and over the tray of food in front of you to see Peter standing across the table. His hands shoved into his pockets, bouncing on the balls of his feet, the headphones around his neck rebounding up and down off his chest in time with his movements. You smiled at him.
“Hey, Pete,” you offered, becoming curious and slightly nervous when his answering smile looked incredibly uncomfortable. You almost wanted to laugh. You were glad you didn’t. He shocked you with the words that tumbled from his mouth.
“So do you maybe want to go to Prom?” The speed at which the words left his lips would have impressed you if you weren’t suddenly a ball of nerves yourself. “You know, with me?”
You probably looked ridiculous: eyes wide as your mouth flopped open and closed a few times before you managed to respond. “Umm, O-OK,” you nodded your head, the prospect of going to a dance with Peter finally working itself into your brain, “yeah, yes, yes.”
He had stopped his bouncing in favor of a smile. “OK, cool.”
“OK.” You were still holding your book awkwardly almost in front of your face, too afraid of moving to put it down.
He gave you a nervous smile, turning his body away from you, stopping again, his hands coming out of hiding and gesturing to the line of people waiting to get their food, “OK, I’m just gonna…” he said before walking away in the direction his shaking hands had motioned.
You couldn’t have hid your smile if you’d tried.