sweet shop ➹ peter parker
summary : to put it simply, peter parker doesn’t like candy that much, but somehow he keeps finding himself at the same candy shop in manhattan, and it’s definitely not because of the cute worker always standing behind the counter at precisely four in the afternoon. definitely not.
wc : 1.6k
author’s note : if there’s typos my bad i don’t proofread i’m lazy
“The freckly dork with the sweet eyes is back.” It’s the first thing you hear when you walk into work that afternoon, four o’clock sharp as usual, fiddling with the strap of your apron with the shop name scrawled across the front in lovely cursive letters. You lift your gaze from the cash register toward the aisle you’ve noticed he wanders in most frequently- not that you’ve really been noticing the cute boy of course- and find him through the throng of people, though he’s quite easy to spot considering he’s shuffling awkwardly through stacks of chocolate whilst blatantly staring at you. You’re not sure he even realizes what he’s doing until you lift your hand in a tentative wave and his entire face pretty much glows pink as he smiles back nervously and he knocks into a display shelf.
“Poor kid is smitten,” your coworker sighs with a smirk plastered on her face as she unties her own apron and slips into the backroom to hang it up. “Does he even know your name? Do you know his?”
You wave her off dismissively. “My name is on my name tag, I’m sure he knows it. He never buys anything, anyway. He just… like, lingers here.” You shrug. “He’s cute so I let him stay.”
She throws her head back and lets out a laugh, returning her scrutinizing gaze back toward the boy with the precariously gelled hair who is hastily trying to restock the shelf he knocked over while simultaneously stumbling into another one. You wince at him, trying not to stare because god, he’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen but he reminds you of a baby deer learning to walk for the first time in the clumsiest, messiest way imaginable. “He comes here to gawk at you, dumbass. His eyes never stray,” she places a hand mockingly on her heart as you roll your eyes toward her. You flash a jovial smile to a customer when they approach you to ring up their order before turning back to your friend.
“Should I talk to him?” You inquire, placing the money in the correct slots of the register. You glance back up at him as he holds his hands out in front of a chocolate, silently pleading with it to stay put so he stopped looking like an absolute moron in front of you. He looks back at you and this time waves back a little, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to appear cooler than he actually was. “I’m gonna talk to him.” You say, not waiting for your friend to divulge her own opinion on the matter.
She shrugs, slipping on her jean jacket and grabbing her purse. “You’ve always been a sucker for the dorky, in need of help, doe eyed type of guys.” You swat at her shoulder playfully but she dodges it, winking at you before walking around the counter and lightly patting the boy on the shoulder as she makes her grand departure. He looks around in confusion until he sees your friend gesturing toward you.
“Scotty, can you cover for me for just a sec?” You call, your face turning to the backroom of the store while Scott, your other coworker, emerges from it. He gives you a scowl, brown eyes narrowed, though you know its playful. To avoid song quite conceited, you don’t admit it often, but you’re pretty much everyone’s favorite employee. “Thanks babes.” He takes your place at the register, and despite the tattoos and nose ring he sports, his smile is practically contagious. He’s another favorite among the customers just because of how pleasant and charming he is.
Peter, though you don’t known his name just yet, watches as you exit your position at the register and hastily tries to make himself look busy standing in front of the same selection of candy that’s he been for fifteen minutes now. He picks up a chocolate bar, pretending to examine it as thoroughly as possible when you lean against the stand next to him. His palms feel sweaty. “I- I was gonna buy something eventually, you know, one of these days. I swear.” He practically shoves the Hershey’s bar in your face, but you lightly push his hand back. “I’m just- I’m, um, very, very indecisive.”
You laugh a little. “Um, it’s fine. That’s not even what I came over here for.” You scratch the back of your neck for a second, an anxious habit because suddenly, you’re pretty nervous standing in front of a sweetly awkward boy with possibly the nicest eyes you’ve ever seen and the cutest shy smile that he seems to be trying to maintain desperately.
“Oh.” He nods, heat crawling up his cheeks as he sidesteps out of your view. “I- I- I- um, sorry for blocking something, I probably am-”
“You’re not,” you assure him. Peter can feel his heart squeeze tightly when you take a step closer toward him, but your smile is the least intimidating thing he’s ever come across. It’s gentle. He appreciates the gentleness of it. “So, um, what’s your name?” It doesn’t come out as smooth as you would have liked it to, but Peter grins back at you like you’ve just asked him the greatest question in the universe.
“I’m Peter,” he replies, running a hand through his hair again in a way similar to your own nervous tick of rubbing the back of your neck. “Uh, Peter Parker, he repeats, not knowing if you wanted his last name or not.
Scott, across the room, cups his hands around his mouth and calls toward you, “Y/N, if you’re gonna flirt with that kid, at least reorganize the shelves, too!” You turn around to give Scott the finger. To be honest though, you’re also turning around to mask the embarrassment on your face.
Peter steps out of the way again so you can stand in front of the mess he had already created just a few minutes before. “I’m Y/N, in case you didn’t catch that.” Peter likes the little disconcerted expression you’re donning now. He’s glad that he’s not the only one flustered here, and in an odd way, it makes him feel a little more confident when talking to you, the same person he’s been trying to gather the courage to hold a conversation with for the two weeks.
“I knew that already,” he says. Then, realizing the odd way you’re looking at him suddenly, he continues, “because of, you know, the uh, name tag. Your name tag. It has your name on it. So, that’s how I know.” Another nervous smile flashed toward you.
“Oh, yeah,” you look down at it. You continue stacking the shelves in the proper manner. “You really did a number on these,” you wave your hand toward the shelves. “Tell me, how’d you manage to knock down two different shelves in under five minutes and put everything back in a way not even remotely close to the way they were before?”
He knows you mean it lightheartedly, but he still blushes even deeper than before. “Hey, at least I tried,” he answers defensively. “But, um, I don’t even really know. I think you made me nervous. You- you waved at me.” He glances down at his shoes, shuffling his feet again. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, he thinks to himself. He misses the beam you give him, secretly pleased with yourself for having that effect on him. It was flattering.
“I made you nervous?” You raise an eyebrow at him, and he nods. “That’s cute, Peter. I’m not much to get nervous over, though. Trust me.” You turn your back on the display shelf just in time for Peter to shake his head at you.
“I’ve been coming in here for two weeks now, and I haven’t bought anything because I’m too nervous to go up to the register and talk to you. So yeah, you are. Something to get nervous over, I mean.” You knew what he meant, but he had a habit of over-explaining every little detail that you found endearing, so you let him talk. “Is that weird? Am I weird?”
“Nah.” You reach out to squeeze his hand for literally a millisecond, which irritates him to no end because he kind of wants you to hold on for longer. “Like I said before, it’s kind of cute. You’re a cute kid.”
Puffing out his chest a little, he says, “Well, I wouldn’t really call myself a kid, I am fifteen so…” Oddly enough, it’s that comment alone that makes you sort of fall in love with him in that moment, and the way he so terribly wants to impress you. There’s no way to describe him other than ridiculously sweet, which is ironic considering you’re standing in a candy shop when he admits that you’re the prettiest person he’s ever laid his eyes on and when he asks for your number, you don’t hesitate to give it to him.
It’s the first time he buys something from the store, and he walks out with a stupidly happy grin on his face and approaches Ned with a new bounce in his step. He’s been standing out there for a half hour and patience that was diminishing faster and faster. As they’re walking back to the train so they can go home, Ned eyes Peter as he bites into a chocolate bar. “Peter, you literally hate chocolate, what are you doing?”
Peter shrugs, taking another piece off. “This chocolate bar scored me a date and the number of the cutest worker in that store. I’m gonna learn to love it.”
“The worker you’ve been stalking for the past two weeks?”
“It wasn’t stalking, Ned!”
Ned gives Peter an unconvincing nod, but truthfully, he’s glad to see his best friend so excited over someone. It’s been awhile since Liz, and Ned knows Peter deserves to be happy. And boy, is Peter ever so happy, even while he’s eating chocolate that he hasn’t liked since he was seven.