Holding onto the trailing edge of the white dress, fabric bunched between sweaty, nervous fingers and hem flapping over the boots you'd managed to find at a thrift store, you carefully navigated the crowded jittery hallway full of excited, costumed voices; classroom windows covered in festive webs, spiders, pumpkins, and bats hanging from ceiling tiles.
"Happy Halloween!" you shouted across a few heads and shoulders, waving back at your friend from English as she smiled at you, giving you a thumbs up and a wink; your cheeks heating at the gesture.
She knew what, or who, had influenced your costume this year.
Yours eyes focused on the way the silky fabric caught in the light, shimmering as it moved over the tile around your feet, secret smile pulling at your lips as you thought about him, thought about the smile you knew this would put on his face.
You'd convinced him that you weren't dressing up this year.
And truthfully, you hadn't planned on it. Not until his eyes had lit up and that stupid smile had pushed up at freckled cheeks and long eyelashes when he'd talked about dressing up as his favorite hero this year.
He was contagious; convincing without words, without really meaning to be.
You'd wanted to earn that stupid smile of his the moment it had graced his face.
You wanted it always.
That was how you'd found yourself sifting through racks looking for pieces you could use to make yourself a matching set; a Leia to go with his Han. Your stomach flipped over itself again as you thought about it; the warmth that was Peter spreading through nervous limbs as it always did.
You'd nearly collided with a crude rendition of the Hulk, long face painted green, sloppy, black penciled brows rising as eyes caught on your hair, white teeth shining in contrast with the verdant color of his lips as he laughed.
You rolled your eyes at him as you passed, already pushing it aside as you found the lines of a familiar set of broad shoulders, of long, lean legs wrapped tightly in blue fabric, the backs of ears that maybe stuck out a little too much, and toffee colored waves that forever had your heart tossing in the sea of adoration.
He pulled off his thrifted costume well.
"Well, hello, Solo," words catching on the tail end of a chuckle as you came to a stop in front of the locker nearest his, fingertips grazing over the fabric of the vest he'd carefully draped over his shoulders.
He laughed as he reached for his Chemistry textbook, "Good morning," voice still raspy with the last remnants of sleep. "So, what do you call someone who doesn't dress up for Halloween? I mean, I can't call you a Grinch. Not yet anyway," he mumbled.
You found yourself chewing on your lip, working to hide your smile as you anxiously waited for him to stop fumbling around in his locker. A few of your fingers curled around the leather belt slung loosely across his hips in answer, tugging at him to catch his attention, to pull him closer. You couldn't keep from grinning as pink painted his cheeks when he looked down at your hand.
Then his eyes widened as they registered the fabric hanging delicately from your wrist.
"O-oh," and then his breath caught in his throat and you could feel the warmth of his eyes as they took you in, as he traced over the shape of you in that form fitting white dress. He shoved the books he'd pulled from his locker back in place sloppily, freeing up excited hands, eager fingers reaching out to touch where his eager eyes already had, "You-you said you weren't dressing up. I'm - " whispering in the same tone his fingers were as they ran up your arms, tips of them catching on wrinkles, fabric pulling and tickling fine hairs as they made their way up to your neck, "This is - just;" a few loose waves crashed over his forehead as he shook his head to free the words caught, "it's just so cool."
"Cool? Cool?" you laughed, taking a step back, hands on your hips as you worked to sell it, "listen here, you scruffy-looking nerf herder;" and there was that smile, that smile of his that lit the whole of him, the whole of you, "do you see what I've done to my hair? I'm going to suffer through an entire day of 'Hey, nice buns,' for you," that smile turning into a laugh at the tone your voice had taken on, warmth of his hands finding your hips, his fingers lacing through yours as he pulled you to him again, "So you better have something better to say than 'Cool,' Solo," a finger prodding at his chest serving as punctuation.
"Ok, fine your worshipfulness," he'd pulled you so close you were breathing in each other, spearmint and something entirely his flooding your senses; chests touching as you took the other in, the tip of his nose brushed against yours and your heart skipped as his voice deepened, as his tone changed; your Peter suddenly taking on a different, more confident persona; emboldened with courage in this costume the same way he was when he wore his other, "This is amazing and you look beautiful. Allow me to thank you and your buns properly, Princess."
You started to laugh, sound dying off quickly when his fingers tightened their hold, eyebrows raising as you took in his expression.
The noise of the hallway that had become a buzzing the moment you'd entered his space, completely fell away when his tongue peeked out to wet lips and darkened amber eyes lingered over the shape of your own; already tingling; warm puff of air escaping as his hands moved from your hips to cradle your face.
A sandy curl tickled at your forehead as it fell loose from the rest of those waves.
"I'd just as soon kiss a wookie," you whispered; a sorry attempt at staying in character, at fighting back; eyelashes already fluttering closed as your lips brushed over his, joke falling flat as the words caressed his smiling lips.
"That can be arranged," his words muffled and lost between flesh as lips met, pads of calloused thumbs smoothing over blushing cheeks, while yours clenched at the dark fabric of his vest; holding him to you where beating hearts could meet in a kiss, too. That smile was back on his face when he pulled away, warm palms lingering for a few more seconds, skin on skin and hoping to stretch out the moment just a little longer; the buzzing of the hallway already worming its way back in.
When your eyes opened again, he was already looking over your face with that smile, the stupid one, painting glistening lips. He winked when you found yourself blushing as his hands dropped to where yours still held him captive, fingernails caught around buttons; you brushed away the wrinkled evidence before he turned away to grab his books again.
He paused and you watched the back of his neck and ears color as he thought about what he'd just done in the very public, very not private hallway, courage gone now that the moment had passed and the buzzing was suddenly a roar again.
"Peter," your hand brushed across the burning skin at his neck, fingertips musing messy little curls, pointy chin resting on a bony shoulder, "I love you," you whispered into what was left of that private space between a heated, reddened ear; wispy toffee colored curls tickling at the tip of your nose.
"I know," secret smile lacing his whispered words, pushing up at pink cheeks and puffy eyes; golden twinkle in the honey of his eyes as he turned to you to place a kiss over top the fine hairs at your temple, "I love you back, sweetheart." He closed his locker door and started walking, pep back in his step as his courage returned momentarily.
"Where do you think you're going, laser brain?" You called out over the noise, admiring the way he moved as he made his way down the hall, at the sound of his warmth as he laughed, humor lacing the words he threw over his shoulder.
"I'm going to go see a man about a wookie. A certain Princess mentioned something about a kiss."
