omg boo if you're still doing the prompts can u do "33. Women aren’t complicated, you’re just dumb" + peter parker
Your eyes are beautiful. They’re more than beautiful, but he can’t think of the words.
It’s not just the way the sun hits them when you’re outside, it’s the way they become the sun when you smile, and laugh. It’s the way they scrunch up with your nose when you’re excited, how they glint with sleep when you walk into class on a monday morning.
Peter could die happy if your eyes were the last thing he saw.
The soft touch on his shoulder broke him from his trance. Your presentation had finished, and you’d long since disappeared from the front of the classroom. Your desk was behind his. Did you? Was that your hand on his shoulder as you walked past? He peaked a look behind him, and he caught your eyes once more.
You were looking at him, and you laughed, ducking your head. Peter chuckled along, then turned back towards the front.
I’m finally going crazy, he thought.
He thought about that moment for the rest of the day. He couldn’t get you out of his head, your laugh, the way you looked at him. You.
What did you mean? When you touched his shoulder? When you looked at him the way you did?
“Dude, just go ask her out already,”
Peter was standing at his locker, mindlessly grabbing at textbooks and junk as his mind ran on, “Wh-what?”
Ned rolled his eyes and scoffed, “She touched your shoulder in class, she smiled at you. Congrats! She’s into you, so you now have full permission to slide up and ask her out,”
Peter furrowed his eyebrows, “No! Man, I can’t just ask her out, I mean. A shoulder touch could mean anything,”
Ned reached over, slammed Peter’s locker shut, and started walking, “Listen. Before Betty and I started dating, I had to drop hella clues to see what she would pick up on. It’s what people do to, you know, test the waters,”
Peter was shaking his head in confusion, “You’re not making any sense,”
Ned sighed and grabbed his friend by the shoulders, “Peter, women aren’t complicated, you’re just dumb,” He said with utmost seriousness, smacking his friend hard between the shoulderblades, “Now go. Don’t stutter.”
Peter watched as his friend cleared away with the afternoon hallway crowd, before spying you, at your locker, alone. He didn’t have a plan, not the slightest idea of what he’d say to you, but his feet were already walking, Ned’s words in his head.
You smiled when you saw him, “Hey, Peter! What’s up?”
As much as he wanted to, Peter wouldn’t let himself get lost in the idea of you. Not now. Now, he needed to articulate.
“Hey, I, uh, I just wanted to say that you did a really good job on your presentation,” Words were coming out of his mouth, good words, words that made sentences. This was progress.
You laughed, “I kind of forgot it existed, so I did it in a night. Not bad for 10 cups of coffee and a 15 minute nap, you think?”
Peter felt himself fall into the conversation, into your laugh. It was easier to talk to you than he remembered. You made it easy.
At one point, both of you had sat down, spending much longer than intended on the linoleum floors. Peter hadn’t bothered to check the time, he didn’t care, but one glance down to your phone sent you into a frenzy.
“Shit! I’m gonna be late for my shift! I’ve gotta go!” You scrambled to get up, so you grabbed hold of Peter’s hand, “You have my number in your phone, right?”
A bit flustered, he nodded. He wasn’t 100% sure, but he would smack himself if he checked now because you still hadn’t let go of his hand.
“Great!” You smiled, letting go of him, albeit softly, and slowly, “Text me.”
With that, you sped out and disappeared into the streets. Peter simply stood, finally letting the meaning behind your words seep into him.
No, not complicated at all.