the last of the real ones | tom holland & peter parker x reader

polarity | p.p.

You sat at your desk in your room, studying your chemistry notes at ten p.m. You thought you had understood the material in class, but studying for this test was turning out to be brutal. Despite your conscience telling you to not take a break, you picked up your phone and texted Peter.

please distract me

what's wrong?

where should I start
I'm tired, I'm stressed out, I don't understand polarity
I don't think I even know what polarity is
and I'm cold

You scrolled through your Instagram feed once while waiting for Peter to text back. When he didn't, you turned back to studying.

About ten minutes later, you heard a light tapping sound on your window. You turned toward it.

"Peter?"

After making sure your door was closed, you pulled the window open.

"What are you doing here?" you asked incredulously.

"I'm here to teach you about polarity," Peter stated. "Can I come in?"

"Oh! Yeah, just be quiet," you instructed. "How did you get here so fast?"

"What... do you mean?"

"You live a subway stop away from me and we're on the seventh floor. How'd you get here in ten minutes? Did you fly?"

"It was longer than ten minutes."

You looked at your clock, but you would swear it wasn't. "Oh, well, I guess I was studying. Time flies when your life is falling apart."

Peter laughed. "So, are you ready for me to bestow upon you all of my scientific knowledge?"

"Holy shit, that would take days, Peter," you said. "But, sure, let's go."

Thirty minutes later, you had a proficient understanding of chemical polarity and a brush-up on ionization.

"You're going to ace it."

"Thanks, Peter," you said earnestly, not knowing how to properly express your gratitude.

"If there's anything else you need..."

"Well, I'm still kind of cold," you shrugged, joking.

Peter immediately grabbed his sweatshirt from the back of the neck and pulled it over his head. His t-shirt underneath lifted up a little, exposing his stomach, and holy shit.

Peter held the sweatshirt out to you, but you were standing there too frozen and shocked to take it. He didn't seem to notice why, though, and instead proceeded to put the sweatshirt over your head haphazardly.

Pulling yourself back to reality, you laughed and stuck your arms through the sweatshirt as Peter walked toward the window and crawled through it, onto your fire escape. He turned back to you and you leaned on your windowsill.

"Hey, Peter?" you started. "Thank you. For everything."

"No, problem," he smiled. "I'll see you at school tomorrow."

"See you."

With that, he started quietly descending the stairs and you pulled your window shut. You walked over to turn off your lights, mind racing. Part of you said you couldn't like Peter; most of you was countering with the fact that he was so sweet and smart and adorable and dorky. Regardless, you crawled into bed and fell asleep thinking about how good his sweatshirt smelled.