dinner date ↬ p.p
prompt: “i know your mom hates me” (either one of them) for tom holland, thanks
warnings: cursing, fluff
notes: i did a whole answer to this anon on why i choose not to write about real people as themselves rather than their characters that they play! but thank you for this request :) please send in more and i hope you enjoy
Peter rarely left Queens, unless it was important like the “retreat” to Berlin, or Aunt May wanted to take them on vacation. Usually, he stayed in his neighborhood, not too far from everything he grew up with and around. It was pitiful (Ned’s words, not his), but it was nice and he hadn’t ever really felt the need to go out as himself to just eat somewhere fancy in Times Square or Manhattan.
Tonight, however, was different.
He had never felt more uncomfortable in his own apartment. He was frantic, cleaning every crook and crevice, wishing that he somehow had the power to turn his kitchen into a gourmet fine dining area—maybe that would be more impressive.
It was dinner night. The dinner night that Peter had spent weeks stressing over, constantly babbling about it to May and Ned, and really, even Tony Stark—because he was that nervous and needed someone to talk to. He would constantly trip over himself, more than usual, trying to get his mind off it and calm down, struggling to keep his chill.
What do I wear, what do I say, oh, God, do I shake their hands?
Peter was a mess. He had known you for years, ever since school started, and he was one of your best friends—so why was he so sweaty? You were his girlfriend, one of the best friends he ever had, and it was as though he were meeting you for the first time.
He runs a hand through his hair before sighing and going over to the bathroom mirror to fix it again. It’s natural curl is showing from how much he’d been tugging at it anxiously, and he’s surprised his lip hadn’t yet bled from how much he’d bitten it.
“Peter,” Aunt May says, rolling her eyes at him and he gives her a distracted glance, “You look fine and [Y/N]’s parents will absolutely adore you. And with that adorable face? Who wouldn’t?”
“Oh, God,” Peter groaned, closing his eyes in embarrassment, “Please don’t say anything weird or mortifying. And definitely do not offer to show them baby pictures.”
Aunt May clicked her tongue as they both walked back to the living room, Peter bouncing off the hardwood floors. “Shame, guess I’ll have to put away all the albums again.”
The doorbell suddenly rings and Peter is dashing towards the door, his black sweater clinging onto his body for dear life. He goes to open it, but then pauses and takes a minute to register himself. Okay, Peter: be cool, be cool, don’t open the door too quick or else you’ll look like you’ve been waiting and that’s creepy.
He opens it slowly and sees you and your parents standing there. He instantly smiles as you gaze up at him and for a moment he forgets that he’s two seconds away from fully shitting his pants. He lets you all in as he watches Aunt May introduce herself to your parents.
“Wow, you clean up nice,” you compliment teasingly, grinning. You stayed back and Peter closed the door, shaking his head at you.
“Babe, that hurts, why do you sound so shocked?” He asks in mock disbelief and you two walk over to the table.
Both of you are whispering and you know it’s because he’s apprehensive. He wants to impress your parents, dazzle them, let them know that he’s perfect for you and that he’ll treat you right—but he doesn’t know how. You can tell by the expression on his face.
“Babe? Huh, you must be getting confident, Parker,” You tell him and his cheeks are pink instantly.
“Peter,” your mother says suddenly when Aunt May seats all of you and brings out the food Peter begged her to order from the five-star Italian delivery restaurant. “It’s good to see that you’re okay.”
Your eyes widen and Peter lifts a brow. “Pardon?”
“After the Washington Monument incident,” you add on quickly, glancing at your boyfriend. You turn to your parents, “Peter wasn’t there, thankfully. Remember, I told you I wasn’t either. We weren’t together in the same room, of course. I was on the ground with MJ, and yeah…”
Everyone begins eating and Peter shifts awkwardly in his seat. He doesn’t know what to say. He wants to charm your parents with his wit and intellect, but nothing is coming out. And if something did, it’d only be his stammers.
“So, what’s been going on at school?” Aunt May asks, encouraging to clear the air. “[Y/N], your mom and dad told me about the volunteering you’ve been doing for service hours.”
You bite your tongue. Your parents loved to brag about you whenever they weren’t complaining. Peter lit up, turning to you, practically throwing you his undivided attention.
“School’s been great, really. After we won nationals, Flash just keeps bragging about how he rightfully deserved that trophy,” you start, and Peter looks at you and laughs.
“Flash couldn’t have won it even if he tried.”
“Easy for you to say, you weren’t even there,” you point out, rolling your eyes playfully. “You were off playing—”
“Playing what?” Your Dad joined in and you bit your lip at his authoritative tone.
He had the voice whenever he talked to Peter, or any boy that even looked at you for that matter. Your dad was probably the biggest ball of sunshine that ever existed, and to see him try and act like the bad cop to your mom’s good cop was ridiculous.
“Um, I was out…playing—” Peter stutters and you quickly rush in to save him.
The whole table looks to you and while Aunt May gives Peter confused look, your parents do the same to you. You bit a bite out of some pasta and took a sip of water, your hand finding Peter’s under the table. He squeezed and you shrugged at your parents.
“Peter wasn’t feeling well, which was unexpected, and he didn’t go to nationals. So he just played Zelda in his hotel room,” you reassured, lying through your teeth.
Who knows how your parents would react if you told them you were dating the masked hero by the name of Spider-Man? Sure, they probably wouldn’t believe you and laugh at your attempt to make your geeky (your dad’s words) boyfriend sound cooler, but on the off-chance they took you seriously—you’d probably never be allowed to see Peter again. At least not in the way you wanted.
“Peter has a tendency of being unpredictable,” Aunt May jokes with your parents and they actually laugh, making you think that this whole thing is actually going well.
Your heart would break if it didn’t, but right now you could only hope for the best.
Luckily, the adults became enveloped into their own conversation, bonding over how insatiable and complicated raising teenagers was. Apart from your father’s daggers at Peter (which were, at most, simply warning glares), you and him were unnoticed. You just couldn’t leave the dinner table.
“Crap, crap, crap,” Peter repeats over to you, “I think I’m going to pass out if your dad asks me another question. He’s so scary! You told me he was a huge nerd. Why’d you lie?”
You scoffed and hit him lightly on the chest (gaining another head-shake from your father).
“Peter, he literally gushes about the Avengers and Spider-Man all the time. He’s just not exactly comfortable with me dating so young. Not everyone is as cool as your aunt.”
“Please never call her cool again, her ego might blow through the roof,” Peter tells you and you chuckle. “But seriously, I think they hate me. They’re going to forbid you from seeing me and—yup, your mom? I know your mom hates me.”
“Yeah, okay, sure. That’s why she says that you’re handsome and smart all the time, right?” You confess to him, “Trust me, they like you.”
“Are you sure? Because I can clean up nicer, you know, and I can be funnier—I have a couple jokes that Ned and I have been working on—”
“Peter, stop! If you do tell a joke that was made up by you and Ned, then my parents will really hate you.”
He licks his lips nervously and huffs, “Gee, thanks.”
“They could never hate you, Peter. You’re…you. You’re adorable and sweet and kind. You’re our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. I mean, that’s pretty awesome,” you say, smiling at him. “Just don’t break my heart, Parker. Or else, they’ll have your head on a pike.”
He blushes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
His phone suddenly rings, interrupting everyone’s conversation. He pulls out his phone and both of you can see the caller ID.
“[Y/N]…” He whispers, ignoring the stares he’s getting from May and your mother and father.
You nod, “Peter, go. Just come back in one piece.”
He takes the call and goes to his room, leaving you alone at the table with three adults. You awkwardly take a bite out of Peter’s untouched dinner roll, chewing hesistantly.
“Thank you for having me over for dinner, Aunt May,” you acknowledge, trying to steer the topic away from the elephant in the room.
“What happened, is everything alright?” Your mom asks and Aunt May looks annoyed and disappointed. Your dad is picking at his food.
“Yeah, everything’s alright!” You said truthfully. You were more than okay with Peter’s frequent disappearances; it’s not like he couldn’t just refuse to help out and use his abilities for the common good. All you wanted was for him to be alive at the end of the day.
“Remember I told you about the Stark Internship he has,” you continued, watching your mom’s face light up with recollection of the memory. “"I told Dad about it too, but I don’t know if he was actually listening.”
Your dad looks up, “I wasn’t.”
May shakes her head. “I am so sorry, [Y/N]. I’ve talked to him about this whole internship thing and he just—do you want me to talk to him right now?”
You almost jump up. “No! No, it’s fine. Completely. Mom, Dad, we should get going now anyways, right? You both have work tomorrow and I’ve got homework. Thank you so much, May, I hope we can come over another time.”
Aunt May sighs, but lets the Peter thing go. “Of course, sweetheart! Come over anytime you like! And [Y/PARENTS’/N], it was glad to meet the both of you for the first time!”
You wait as your mom and dad return her affections, thanking her and giving her a small friendly hug. Despite you displaying full support, May still flashed you an apologetic and sympathetic look as she hugged you goodbye and shut the door. You couldn’t blame her; she still had yet to find out that the boy who she practically raised as her own son was constantly running into imminent danger.
As you walk to the car, thinking of how your boyfriend was currently saving lives and helping people, your mom gives you a concerned look.
“Do you know what that was about?” She questions and you take a moment to respond.
Peter in his suit flashes through your mind, and you shake your head.
“Nope. Not a clue.”