Sliding Doors ⧨ Peter Parker

14 | Popular

no correlation to the story, just thought it was cute ^

Y/N

_

In a strange mix of events, we found ourselves in Peter's room, watching Star Wars play from his laptop.

It had been over an hour since we escaped Liz's house, and over our newfound connection through the sci-fi world, we decided to watch The Empire Strikes Back. I had one of his throw pillows pressed against my chest, as I intently watched Luke scream at the top of his lungs.

"This scene is so trippy," I laughed, "imagine dangling off a pipe, and being told your worst enemy is your dad."

"It's spooky!"

"Also Mark Hamill was casted right. He's cute as Luke!"

Peter rolled his eyes, tapping the spacebar and pausing the movie. He adjusted his white t-shirt, and shook his head, his brown curls falling over his face.

"Are you telling me you're only a fan because of how attractive the characters are?" He questioned, "wow..."

"Oh, yeah, I totally just bought a lego death star because it came with a small Luke in the packaging."

"You did?"

"No, idiot!" I teased, pushing him lightly, "I'm being sarcastic!"

"I don't understand girls well," he sighed, starting the movie again, "you guys are so confusing."

I gasped, narrowing my eyes. Crossing my arms in front of me, I ignored the screen and glared at the boy with fake offense.

"Surprising," I said back, "coming from a radioactive spider-boy."

"Spider's are very understandable!"

"But no one likes them," I grinned, "sorry, Peter, but Mark Hamill is no spider."

For the rest of the night we laughed over fun facts and silly outbursts, not paying attention to the movie as much anymore. I was surprised I had so much in common with him, and that we had never met before. We lived in Queens, went to the same deli after school, and even loved the same things. Yet the first time I saw his face was on the platform of 67th street.

Why can't I stop thinking about it?

_

"Hey, wake up."

I groaned, my back aching. As I slumped onto my stomach, the mattress springs let out an annoying squeak. Since when did I have mattress springs?

"Peter, what are you doing in my room?" I whined, rubbing my eyes.

He laughed, hopping up from where he was sitting and heading towards the door. My vision was blurry, but it took me a second to realize where I was laying.

"This..." I noted, staring at the blue walls, "...is not my room."

"Yes, because it's mine," the boy smiled, pointing over to his desk, "change of clothes over there, let me know when you're ready."

"Thanks, Peter."

He patted the side of the door, before shutting it behind him. I couldn't remember how late I stayed up last night, but I knew I was going to be in trouble with my mother anyways. Digging around the sheets for my phone, I grabbed it and opened up imessage.

I'm so sorry! I typed to my mother, Late night at work, stayed at Peter's house. Going to school now.

Tossing it back onto the bed, I stretched my arms above me and made my way over to the desk. A pile of pillows were scattered on the floor, where I presumed Peter had slept. My stomach dropped when I realized I probably fell asleep, and he gave up his bed for me. Great, now I was taking his clothes too, since I slept in my outfit from yesterday.

Slipping into the grey t-shirt, I decided to keep my jeans from the day before. Gross, a little, but the black sweats Peter had were nowhere close to my size. Glancing in the mirror, I fixed my hair into a ponytail, biting my lip. I didn't notice before, but there was some faded text on the front of the shirt.

If you believe in telekinesis, it said, lift my right hand!

"I love this," I mumbled to myself, "classic joke."

Opening the door, I saw Peter talking in hushed tones to May in the living room. His mouth snapped shut as soon as he saw me, and he grinned at the shirt.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

"Where are we going?"

"To school...?"

"Right, yeah," I frowned, slapping my palm on my face, "sorry, it's really early."

The boy didn't say anything, but hopped up from the couch and grabbed his backpack. May opened her mouth to speak, but Peter sent her a glare, and nodded towards the door. Waving a goodbye to May, I grabbed my bag from the kitchen table, and followed the boy out into the city.

"What's the plan?" he asked, as we made our way down the sidewalk.

"Is it okay if I stop at Pop's? Just want to grab something to eat first."

"Sure, where is it?"

"Not too far from here," I said, picking up the pace.

As we made our way to the breakfast diner, we talked about the first day of school. Not our first day of school, but the first day of school at the Stark's. Neither of us were sure how learning with an AI was going to go, but we were still dumbfounded we'd even have this opportunity in the first place. Once we got to Pop's I swung open the door and let the boy in first.

"Hey Johnny!" I smiled, waving at the man behind the counter, "early morning?"

"Hey buckets," he greeted back, "gotta keep the business running, you know?"

"I doubt you'd have trouble with that, your bacon-sams are award winning!"

"The usual?"

"Of course," I nodded, placing my hand on the counter, "this is Peter, by the way."

Johnny looked up at the boy beside me, sending him a polite nod. Peter gave him an awkward 'hello', before staring at me in confusion.

"Do you want something?" I asked him, "My treat."

"What's a bacon-sam?"

"Eggs, bacon, cheese, topped with a Brioche bun," I said, "I'll get you one anyways."

As soon as the sandwiches were done, I paid for them and Peter and I were back on the sidewalk. His mouth watered at the smell of the bacon, so I let him devour the sandwich as we were walking.

"Why did he call you buckets?" he asked, scarfing down the rest of the cheese.

I laughed, "The first time I came into the store, I knocked over one of the mop buckets. It kind of stuck, you know?"

"Sounds embarrassing."

"I'm used to it," I said, before turning around, "hey Ronnie!"

"y/n!" The flower-man yelled back, "haven't seen you around here since Monday!"

"I've been busy!" I explained, "this is Peter Parker!"

"Hey Peter Parker!"

Peter gave another awkward wave. I guess social interactions were not usually his thing? We kept walking towards the bus stop, where we would take the 101 bus to get to Manhattan.

"You're popular," the boy mentioned, "you know a lot of people."

"I wouldn't call myself popular," I shrugged, "I just talk to a lot of people."

"I don't, really. It's just me, Ned, and May."

"Well now you know Johnny and Ronnie," I laughed, "welcome to the family, Peter."