Chapter Text
You had made it three weeks into your senior year, and so far, you couldn’t complain. Your course load wasn’t too insane, as if your teachers recognised you were almost out the door. This gave you an unfortunate amount of free time, however. You’ve been trying to get into new hobbies: writing, painting, and most excitingly to Aunt May, crocheting. Making friends had always been a little harder for you. Your father raised you to be unabashedly yourself. You didn’t know how to be anyone else. Peter was much better at camouflage. You had seen him start to come out of his shell a bit and you were very excited for him. He had made a few friends in his new classes.
That is what brought the both of you into a very interesting predicament on this Wednesday afternoon. Since getting these new friends, he no longer walks you to your classes. You can’t say you mind all too much. You see him almost all day so to be upset over missing five minutes between classes was ridiculous. You did miss the proximity though. A gaggle of boys came through the door to Mr Stringer’s class with boisterous laughter. Only one grabbed your attention, it’s airy and its raised pitch cuts through the air. You give Peter a small wave as he makes his way to his desk, which he returns with a small smile. You continue working on your bellringer, feeling grateful that you wrote down the question as Peter has now blocked your vision of the board as he continues talking to his friends.
He had introduced you to them before. Silas was a stringy boy, similar to Peter in a lot of ways. Much to Peter’s dismay, Sy had a few inches on him, standing at a solid 6’2”. He also had curly blond hair that often fell into his kind blue eyes and a grand smile. He was pretty chill all things considered. Nicholas was a bit shorter than his friends, closer to your height. He had black hair, pin-straight and short. You could see evidence of gell pushing his hair into a point on his forehead, a common style that he wore well. Peter had met both of them in his advanced calculus class. Micheal was a kind boy with wavy brown hair he wore long, grazing his shoulders. He had mesmerising green eyes, flecks of gold sprinkled throughout his irises. He was just as tall as Silas, with a much stockier build. He was a junior and friends with Silas though you weren’t sure how. You’re favourite was Miles. He was a freshman, full of energy and hope that you were slightly jealous of. You were also unsure of his connection to this group but never questioned it. You tried your best to give Peter space with his friends, letting them talk and sticking to your task, but something was said that caught your attention.
“No, but really, who are you taking?” Micheal was leaning against Peter’s desk, arms crossed, while the rest of the boys crowded around him. Peter only shrugged in response but Silas refused to let it slide.
“Oh, come on Parker. You can’t say you ‘might go to the dance’ and then say you’re not taking a date. What? You gonna show up solo?” Now that was interesting. Peter had never said anything about being interested in going to homecoming but here his friends were saying he wants to go.
Micheal gives him that winky-nudge-thing before asking “Well, are you talking to anyone?”
Peter sounds confused, “Talking?”
Miles cuts in then, “Yeah, ya know, talking. ”
You watch as Peter blushes and you wish you could save him but you don’t know how to do that without forcing him into a narrative. You felt eyes on you as you continued your work.
“Yeah, I’m talking to (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N)” You look up when he says your name. Peter then turns in his seat to face you with a hand extended. You grasp it and he shakes viciously, it’s jerky and his grip is too rough.
“How are you (Y/N)?” You look at him confused
“I’m…doing well…uh how- how are you?” You fumbled out the response not knowing what else to say. Peter claimed he was talking with you and as much as you wanted that to be true you knew it was just a panic response. His awkwardness could simply be written off as anxiety and not him being awkward, so much, to or about you.
“Good. Good to hear.” His smile was tight but there was a softness in his eyes that kept you level.
His friends all laughed and started nudging each other saying things like "called it" and "atta boy, Parker". You felt your own flush start and let go of his hand, the handshake lasting much too long now. You brought your head down and continued to do your work wanting to remove yourself from the conversation, but the implication remained heavy on your mind. Maybe he had meant it. You raised your head to see he was already looking at you, he gave you a small smile and you returned it.
Like many other things that happen between you and Peter, neither one of you mentioned it again. You had work tonight but offered Peter a ride home after school. As you clocked in you couldn’t get Peter off your mind. You tried busying yourself with tasks and that worked for two hours but Wednesday nights are dead. You wanted to address what he said though the idea of him rejecting you to your face was brutal and you couldn’t imagine a situation where it wouldn’t thoroughly decimate your heart. You pulled out your phone. You had gone back and forth over how to handle what Peter said. You had decided to help him get a date, so his friends would get off his back. You typed and deleted characters for what felt like aeons. This was going to be harder than you thought.
(Y/N):
Hey! If you need help getting a date for the dance I can help!
You cringed at the excessive punctuation and the formality of your texting. You hoped he wouldn’t think much of it. You sat there staring at your messages for five minutes before you saw the typing bubble.
Oh god, he was responding! Of course, this was the logical next thing but you hadn’t prepared yourself as much as you thought you had. You watched the bubble come and leave with no message coming through. You wondered what it was he was typing.
Pete:
Thanks! Did you have anyone in mind?
You felt your heart hammering in your chest. Of course, you had someone in mind but you weren’t sure if that was who he had in mind. You wanted to scream, shake him aggressively until he came to his senses. Instead, you bit back tears.
(Y/N):
I didn’t have anyone in mind but if you tell me who you like I can be a sort of wingman for you
You heard someone clear their throat and looked up to see an older man with an empty popcorn bucket. He asked for a refill and you shovelled the over-buttered kernels hastily into the paper bucket before pushing it toward the man. He frowned but walked away. Your nerves were too fried for good customer service. You looked back at your phone to see Peter had responded.
Pete:
A wing man huh?
Your fingers were shaking as you typed back. You felt embarrassed that this was so important to you.
(Y/N):
Yeah like you tell me who you wanna ask and I go in and talk to them. Hype you up ya know?
You watched once again as the bubble danced in and out of the chat. You hadn’t noticed your fingers drifting to your mouth as you gnawed on your cuticles.
Pete:
Well I was going to ask you to the dance
You laughed. Your brain went fuzzy and it felt like you were floating. Peter wanted to ask you to the dance. It’s just a school dance but still. He wanted to ask you. Last year when prom came around you mentioned that you wanted to go but Peter showed no interest. Instead, he offered to spend the night with you and you were so infatuated with him that you agreed. You spent the night watching horror movies, smoking, and gorging out on Pizza. You were so wrapped up in thought that you almost forgot to respond.
(Y/N):
I would love to go to the dance with you :))
He responded quickly this time
Pete:
Cool :))
Since then nothing had really changed. Not in private or in front of his friends. You have to keep reminding yourself that he asked you because you’re really the only girl he knows. I t was ten days later now, Saturday, and you sat on his rooftop. Your shirt was bunched up against the rough shingles as you gazed at the afternoon clouds. Peter was nearby, his warmth was felt though you ignored it. You focused instead on the sun’s rays soaking into your bones. Peter had other plans. He threw his arm across your stomach, his elbow pressing lightly into your skin, to grab your attention. You wanted to take a flamethrower to the butterflies that dared to erupt in your gut from such a simple action.
“Did you hear this year’s homecoming theme?” You said nothing, trying to calm the subtle anger that had been culminating throughout the week.
“It’s fairytale themed,” Peter continued, “but like ‘modern’ fairytale. I think they were really inspired by that ‘Beastly’ movie.”
You gave a non-commital “Hmm” and Peter was much too high to notice that you were upset. Which you were glad for because how would you explain to him why you’re upset? How do tell him that you wanted more than anything for him to ask you to the dance but now that he had you were just more upset that it didn’t mean anything to him? It wasn’t exactly rational, and you were trying not to take it out on Peter.
“Who should we go as?” You paused for a moment in your spiral of self-deprecation. You turned your head, looking at him confused.
“I know that most of the time people just ignore the theme but like, this one could be fun. Unless- unless you don’t think it would be fun and then we can just figure out something else.” You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts.
“Well…what would you wanna go as?” Peter’s face held mild hesitation, he chewed on his lip before answering.
“Well, I always thought Flynn Rider was kinda cool and you remind me a lot of Rapunzel.” He said with a shrug, looking back up to the sky.
“I remind you of Rapunzel?” You couldn’t fight the smile on your face, nor the wings starting to sprout from your heart.
“Yeah, you’re kinda spunky. You’re really smart and also a bit of an introvert. Like, I imagine little (Y/n) was kinda jealous of Rapunzel's tower full of books. You’re very determined and creative. You’re loyal and kind. Oh! And you know the scene where they end up in that tavern full of, like, thugs? And Rapunzel ends up, like, charming everyone and getting everyone to sing and dance? I feel like you could do that. Like, you just are so…sweet and you- you just…”
Peter turns his head once again to look into your eyes. In his you see honey-dipped crystals, gleaming at you.
“You have this ability to light up any space you occupy. Every room wishes you were in it, because every room is dull without you.” He spoke softly, his sweet praise floating off his tongue and gently flitting through the air. Your mind was spinning as you tried to think of something, anything to say.
His arm on your stomach felt heavy now. You moved one of your arms from behind your head and intertwined your fingers with his, giving them a soft squeeze as you mumbled out a “Thank you.”
Peter pulled his gaze away once more, hoping you didn’t see the blush start to creep its way onto his face. “No problem.”
He wondered for a moment if you had somehow disguised a nine-volt battery as your hand. That was the only explanation he could imagine for why it seems every nerve in his body is responding to your touch. He can feel every cutaneous sensory receptor screaming about your presence. As if he didn’t already know that you were holding his hand.
“We should rent that movie. For research of course.” You snickered at Peter.
“It’s okay to admit you wanna watch a princess movie, Pete. No one here is gonna think poorly of you.” He lets out a dramatic fake laugh and you can’t help the genuine one that bubbles up.
You make plans to rent it, encouraging Peter to hold movie night at your place instead. After all, you always watch movies at your place. The dance is next Friday and you don’t have much time to plan. Peter laughs as you explain to him the pain of finding a dress. You consider arson when he tells you he can pretty much go anywhere and find a tie to match whatever colour dress you chose.
The following Monday you text Heidi and ask if she can cover one of your shifts this week. She says no but tells you to ask Mags. You beg him and he says he can cover your Tuesday shift, but in return, you owe him a shift and his food court dinner tonight.
After work, you made your way to the Family Video and found a copy of Tangled. You texted Peter a picture and told him movie night was tomorrow and that he was responsible for snacks. You didn’t really expect him to pull through but you knew he would want to participate in the preparation.
Your father welcomes you home with a warm hug and your comfort meal. You’ve noticed he’s been trying to be around more. You chalked it up to his baby bird growing up, leaving the nest at the end of the year. You couldn’t say it upset you. You had missed your dad in these past few months, neglecting him for the shiny, new guy in your life. Your father was finishing up a funny ER story, the both of you were chortling and snorting as he regales the tale.
“And this poor nurse was running around the room with some tupperware chasing this frog, while the kid and his whole family is screaming.” Your father was a remarkable storyteller, something you realized at a young age. The way he speaks, his cadence carrying the tone, draws you in, places you in the room.
“But the kid wasn’t screaming when the frog was up his nose !” Your lungs hurt, and tears threatened to spill. Your father was in a similar state and it felt like years before you could both breathe again.
“Well, that’s enough about me. What’s going on with you, honey?” The food in your mouth suddenly felt tough. You felt a weight in your chest, a twinge of guilt, that he didn’t already know. Had it really been that long since you guys caught up?
“Life is good. My classes are going well. I um, Peter and I are going to homecoming together, so I’m looking forward to that.” You could have fooled him. The way you were pushing your food around with your fork and speaking in a low flat voice was not very indicative of joy or excitement. Your father tried to swallow his concern and shock, instead trying to focus on being level-headed, being the adult you needed.
“Oh? When did this happen?” You could see your dad playfully smirking from your peripheral.
“Peter and I were talking- texting last Wednesday and he said he wanted to go with me.” You shrugged putting more food in your mouth. Much to your dismay, your pops sat quietly waiting to see what else you would say.
“He’s coming over tomorrow to watch Tangled with me. The dance is ‘Modern Fairytale’ themed and Pete wants to go as Rapunzel and Flynn.” Your father nodded his head in thought and you wanted to evaporate from existence.
You hate talking about Peter with your father, not because of anything he’s done, but rather, because you used to tell him (almost) everything. You would gush over every phone call and text, every sweet word and kiss. Your father was well aware of how much you liked this boy and he was completely aware of how badly he had broken your heart. Your father was so excited for you and you almost feel like you’re letting him down being stuck in…whatever this is with Peter.
“Are you guys doing a full costume or what? When’s the dance? Do you have enough time?” You almost giggled at your dad’s rising concern in his questioning.
“We’re probably just gonna match the colours, kinda like Disney Bounding. I’m not sure how Pete’s gonna pull off the blue vest and brown pants but he’ll figure something out, I’m sure.” Your father seemed a little more relaxed now that he didn’t have to panic-stitch a costume together with you.
“Have you got a dress yet?” You told him you hadn’t had the chance yet and he grins.
“Good, we can go shopping together! Unless…you’d rather go with your friends.” His smile tightened and you felt grateful that your dad was willing to make such sacrifices, to let you do things on your own and come to him on your own. You grabbed his hand resting on the table and gave it a short squeeze.
“No chance. Besides, a friend wouldn’t foot the bill.” You and your father chuckled and it felt nice. Talking to your pops is one of your favourite things and you really have missed this.