cherry stained kisses (gally x fem!reader): after gally reveals he has never eaten a cherry before, you convince him to sneak into frypan's kitchen to try some. (2.8k words, fluff)
worried (gally x fem!reader): gally picks up on you being anxious during a glade meeting and tries to offer some form of comfort (both pov's are included). (1k words, fluff, light hurt x comfort but mainly comfort)
summer heat and how to survive it part 1/2 (gally x fem!reader): when the heat in the glade hits an all time high, the runners are assigned to help out around the glade. you do not take well to being assigned to the builders. (7.2k words, some fluff, mainly a lot of tension + the slightest bit of angst)
summer heat and how to survive it part 2/2 (gally x fem!reader): as nighttime falls and the glade's heatwave persists, gally eagerly begrudgingly joins you for a swim in the glade's lake. (6.4k words, fluff, suggestive themes)
winter storms and how to survive them part 1/2 (gally x fem!reader): as the glade scrambles to figure out a way to handle a sudden wave of cold weather, you and gally find yourself spending a lot more time together than usual. (9.5k, fluff + forced proximity trope)
winter storms and how to survive them part 2/2 (gally x fem!reader): despite comfortably settling in your hut for the night, you find yourself compelled to visit gally and somehow end up in the middle of his hut with a lot of unexplainable feelings (3.4k, fluff)
☆ minho
NEW: let’s talk about sex, baby! (minho x fem!reader), newt attempts to give you and minho the talk™. (3.7k words, fluff, suggestive themes)
°˖𖦹‧ marvel ‧𖦹˖°
☆ bucky barnes
UPCOMING: the never-ending legal consultations (bucky barnes x lawyer!reader): after finding himself being sued by sam wilson, bucky thinks it would be wise to consult with a lawyer. upon meeting the lawyer, he thinks it even wiser to continue consulting with the lawyer — but perhaps not quite for her questionable legal advice. (fluff)
☆ peter parker (tom holland's)
lessons in physics physical activities (peter parker x rogers!reader): when steve rogers is alerted to the fact that you are failing physics, he recruits fellow–avenger peter parker, to tutor you. eager to avoid studying, you decide to offer peter kissing lessons. (4.3k words, fluff + slightly suggestive themes)
no one noticed (peter parker x reader): after a lonely night of drinking, you finally open up to peter and tell him that you're struggling (3.2k words, angst + hurt/comfort)
the parenting project part 1/4 (peter parker x fem!reader): you and peter are paired up for a school assignment. 50% of your grade depends on your ability to co-parent a fake baby with peter. the problem is, you have a slight(ly extreme) hatred of peter who is not only madly oblivious of that, but also madly in love with you. (6k, fluff, angst, enemies to lovers except peter is oblivious to your dislike of him)
the parenting project part 2/4 (peter parker x fem!reader): as the day progresses, you’re starting to feel less sure about your initial dislike of peter. (4.7k, fluff, angst + enemies to lovers except peter is still oblivious to your dislike of him)
the parenting project part 3/4: things haven’t felt weirder between you and peter. that is, until you unexpectedly find an injured peter with no one else there to help him. (7k, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst + enemies (but not really atp) to lovers)
NEW: the parenting project part 4/4: when the due date of your assignment is finally reached, the pressure to figure out what the two of you are hits peter as he scrambles to figure out what to do. (2.4k, fluff, enemies to lovers)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
summary: despite comfortably settling in your hut for the night, you find yourself compelled to visit gally and somehow end up in the middle of his hut, experiencing a lot of unexplainable feelings.
word count: 3.4k
for part 1: click here!
song: uncle ace by blood orange (the fic isn't based on this, but the feeling sort of matches imo)
for my masterlist: click here!
“Hey,” you heard yourself saying.
“Hey,” Gally spoke, his mouth twisting into a smile that immediately wiped your nerves away. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, I just happened to see your light was on and I just thought I’d say hi.”
It certainly wasn’t the best or smoothest of excuses, but at this point, you were beyond caring.
“At midnight?” He raised his eyebrows with a teasing smugness.
“It’s not that late,” you waved him off. “Everyone else is asleep; this really was my only choice.
His green eyes were fixated on you. His cheeks were rosy from the cold weather, and he was wearing a loose brown jumper, his hands stuffed into the pockets. His hair was tussled, caramel-coloured strands sticking up and framing his face.
“Do you want to come in, Y/n?”
The amber light from his room shed a small sliver of light over him, highlighting the small freckles sprinkled over his cheeks.
You inhaled, biting the inside of your cheek in a pitiful attempt to stop yourself from saying what you knew you’d say anyway.
“Sure… thanks.”
The door creaked as he pulled it open wider, giving you space to walk in. The door clicked shut behind him, and a strange sense of nervousness washed over you.
Your eyes immediately started scanning his hut, trying to catch a glimpse of everything there was.
“I read that,” you nodded towards a worn book sitting at Gally’s bedside table. “Are you liking it?”
“Yeah, yeah, I like it a lot actually,” Gally nodded, watching as you picked the book up to flick through the pages.
You placed the comic back on his bed, turning to the wooden shelves positioned nearby.
Gally sat himself on the edge of his bed, watching you as you carefully eyed his possessions scattered across the room. He was beginning to feel a tad self-conscious about his hut, and it didn’t help that your expression was impossible to read.
“Your room isn’t what I’d expected,” you finally said, turning around to face Gally.
“What had you been expecting?” He eyed him curiously as you moved to sit beside him on the bed.
“I thought it’d be less… full,” you spoke, forcing yourself to look at anything but Gally.
“It’s not half as full as yours.”
“That’s true,” you nodded.
“But, that’s mainly because I’m not a massive hoarder like you are.”
“I’m not a hoarder!”
“You keep everything,” Gally scoffed. “And I know you’ve been stealing furniture from the Glade.”
“Not my fault you left my hut so unfurnished,” you teased, gently nudging him with your shoulder. “All you gave me was a bed, a set of drawers and one small wooden shelf. No one can live in a hut with that little storage space.”
“Anyone can; you’re just a hoarder.”
You shook your head with a laugh.
“You really are, I mean, you keep everything literally,” Gally added with a bemused laugh.
“I keep everything that’s important,” you corrected him.
“Last time I was in your hut, fixing the sink, I saw a jar of buttons. What’s so important about a jar of buttons?” He retorted. “And I know no one needs as many pens as you have scattered around.”
“They’re spares.”
“In what circumstance could you possibly require fifty pens?” He turned to face you, a smile tugging at his lips.
“What’s wrong with being prepared?”
He softly snickered, and you turned to him with a defensive frown.
“At least my room looks lived in,” you argued.
“Lived in by a hoarder.”
You scrunched up your face, struggling to conceal your smile.
“Well, at least my room’s homey and welcoming. I don’t see many people trying to hang out in your room.” You mused.
“You’re hanging out in my room.”
“This is my first time hanging out in your room,” you waved him off. “So that really doesn’t count.”
“It counts for me.”
You paused, trying to recollect yourself before saying anything more.
“How was working with Alby?” You asked, trying to force your voice to sound casual.
“It was fine,” Gally shook his head with an amused smile. “Shank teased me relentlessly for your little comment, thanks for that by the way.”
You grinned.
“He had me chopping wood for hours, which I can now say is a whole new level of torture to do in the cold.”
“Sounds it,” you mused. “Lucky me for having kitchen privileges.”
“Lucky you for having glass engraved in your palm,” Gally corrected.
“Yeah, that was not fun, but working in the kitchen with Fry was better than working in the cold with you and grumpy old Alby.”
“Can’t argue there.” Gally exhaled.
You smiled, your left hand reaching to twist the threaded bracelet that wrapped around your right wrist.
The bracelet was thin, the deep forest green wrapped twice around your wrist. Your fingers were awkwardly fumbling at a small knot tangling the bracelet.
Before you could process what was happening, Gally reached his hand towards your wrist, “I can fix it.”
You inhaled sharply, desperately hoping Gally wouldn’t notice how you reacted to his touch. To your relief, he didn’t say anything; instead, he gently moved your arm closer to his lap.
His fingers nimbly nipped at the entangled thread, loosening the knot enough that he could fix it.
“You’ll have to take it off for a moment, sorry,” he murmured.
“Oh, yeah, that’s fine,” you said, sliding the bracelet off your wrist so that Gally could fix it.
“All fixed,” he said with a satisfied smile, holding the bracelet out in his hands. “It’s nice. Pretty.”
You looked between Gally and the bracelet for a moment, nervously inhaling before saying, “You can have it.”
“What?” He turned to you with a perplexed frown.
“Keep it.”
“I can’t keep it, it’s yours.”
“I think it’d look good with your eyes,” you replied. “Similar greens.”
“Well, I guess but–,”
“–but nothing, it’s yours, have it,” you insisted, taking the bracelet from his uncertain hands so you could slip it onto his wrist.
“Thanks,” he breathed out, the tips of his ears turning a subtle pink.
“It’s not a problem.”
You turned to him with a smile, feeling yourself relax.
You had been so caught up in what was up with you two that you forgot that this was Gally. No matter how confusing your relationship with one another may be now, he would still be the boy who was the first to talk to you like you were a real human and not some sort of weak girl.
Of course, this was after spending an entire two days fearing that you were sent to end the Gladers’ existence. But while the Gladers still viewed you as some fragile outsider, Gally had quickly moved on to treating you as just another Glader. Never daring to
And if it wasn’t for the Gladers seeing that, you were pretty sure Newt would still be walking on eggshells around you, Alby would be acting as your personal bodyguard, and Minho would be acting like you were some sort of social experiment.
You swallowed, inhaling as you turned to properly face him. His eyes darkened, staring at you so intently you swore you might never be able to breathe again.
“Gally,” you started, his green eyes glinting under the soft amber glow of your lamp. “What–”
Knock-knock!
You jolted, whipping your head to his door with a frown at the sudden influx of very loud and very persistent knocking.
“Open up!” You heard a familiar voice call out from behind the door. “I can see your light, I know you’re awake.”
“Minho?” Gally frowned.
You stiffened beside him with worry that Minho realised you were here and had come to drag you out and report you to Alby.
“Yeah, can you let me in?”
You turned to Gally with wide eyes. Based on the look on his face, you figured he, too, was not pleased at the idea of Minho catching you two in his hut together.
“He can’t know I’m here,” you quietly hissed, trying to talk at a volume Minho couldn’t hear.
“I mean…” Gally looked torn. “Will it matter that much?”
“Can you imagine the amount of shit he’ll give us?” You gave him an incredulous frown. “He’ll tell the whole Glade he caught us hooking up or some shit, and then everyone will get involved.”
“And imagine all the stupid rules Alby will give us,” you added. “I’ll just hide.”
“Hide?” he repeated, his voice raspy from the low volume. “Where?”
You looked around his room, trying to ignore Minho’s knocks.
Gally had a point. There really weren’t many places to hide.
“Open up, man, it’s freezing out here!” Minho yelled from behind the door.
“Just a second, I’m…” Gally called out, gently grabbing your wrist to pull you towards his wardrobe. “I’m just getting changed.”
You nudged Gally into the cupboard with an apologetic wince. You could hear Minho huffing and puffing from behind our door, and you were growing slightly worried he’d grow too impatient and just bash the door down to reveal you shoving yourself in Gally’s wardrobe while Gally watched with a worried frown.
You gave Gally (who was looking rather hesitant) a reassuring smile before trying to shut the door so Minho could come in.
You could hear Gally moving towards the door, the hinges squeaking as he opened it up.
“Well, you are just about the slowest changer I’ve ever come across,” You heard Minho say.
“What’s going on, Minho?”
“Do you have the comics that came in the box last week?”
You rolled your eyes. It should not have surprised you that Minho was pounding at the door for such a stupid reason.
“That’s what you’re here for?”
“Yes, Gally, believe it or not, I am not actually interested in catching you changing.”
“Whatever, man, take the comics, I’m done with ‘em.”
“Good that.”
You could hear the rustling sound of a box being moved, and what you assumed to be the comics being passed to Minho.
“Alright, you’ve got your stupid comics, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Whoa, whoa, why the rush? Where’s the love?”
“I was about to go to sleep,” you heard Gally huff.
“Alright, alright, I’m out.”
You breathed a sigh of relief as you heard Minho’s footsteps going towards the exit.
Until the sound stopped.
“What?” You heard Gally ask, annoyance laced in his tone.
“What…” Minho started. “–the fuck is that on your wrist?”
You froze, before Gally even had a chance to give an excuse, Minho was laughing. And not just a few small chuckles – gasping for air, laughing.
You weren’t sure what Gally could even say to defend himself. Everyone knew it was your bracelet, so he couldn’t exactly act as if he had cluelessly found it on the ground. And he couldn’t act as if he made it himself without being accused of intentionally copying yours.
“It was just a dumb bet.”
“A bet?” Minho repeated. “Bull. She probably gave it to you after some serious love makin’ went on in that shed.”
And he was back to laughing again. You scowled to yourself.
“Yeah, a bet. The shed was very boring, and we had a bet over whether Alby would get mad at us or not. Winner got the bracelet.”
“Oh, really? And she was stupid enough to bet that Alby wouldn’t get mad?”
There was a small silence; you assumed Gally must’ve been nodding.
“Please, she is not that stupid.”
“She has her moments.”
You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.
Minho laughed, “Evidently so. Never thought I’d catch her giving any of her prized possessions away to someone like you. Hell, I never thought I’d catch you wearing anything of hers.”
“Well, I had to rub it in her face somehow.”
“And how is wearing it alone in your room rubbing it in her face?”
Gally was stupider than you’d expected.
“Well–,”
“Don’t tell me she’s hidin’ in here. Did you shove the poor girl under your bed or something just to hide from me?” Minho teased.
The two had known each other for long enough that Minho knew exactly what to say to get on Gally’s nerves, and Minho certainly never missed the opportunity for that.
“I know, I know, I was only teasing, lighten up, dude.”
You breathed a sigh of relief.
“I’ll leave you to it then,” Minho said.
“Enjoy your comic.”
“Enjoy her bracelet.”
You listened as Gally clicked the door shut with a frustrated sigh. You waited a moment before opening the wardrobe doors.
You gave him a push with a frown, “I have my moments? There is no way you’re making me stupid in your little imagination.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Gally raised his hands in defence. “I couldn’t think of what else to say.”
You heaved a sigh, playfully shaking your hand.
“A bet, huh?”
“It was the best I could think of!” Gally replied.
The corner of your mouth twitched into a small smile.
“You were right to hide,” Gally said. “Based on his reaction to the bracelet.”
“I was worried he was gonna stay there laughing all night.” Gally mused.
You grinned, “It was definitely a concern at some point.”
“You don’t have to wear it, y’know,” you added shyly. “Not if you don’t want to.”
“I want to,” he affirmed. “It might get a reaction, though. Maybe I’ll have to hide it in my pocket or something.”
You could feel the two of you beginning to teeter into unexplored territory. Gally was just about one question away from forcing you to discuss the real matter that you two were dancing around: why he had to lie about the bracelet in the first place.
I mean, all that had happened was that you gave him the bracelet. But the problem was, the Gladers wouldn’t believe you gave Gally the bracelet platonically, and they wouldn’t believe that he wore it platonically. That wasn’t how you and Gally were.
Gally wasn’t the type to prance around the Glade wearing other people’s jewellery.
Yet here he was wearing your favourite bracelet.
You could faintly hear the sound of rain starting outside. When you looked at Gally’s small, square window, you saw drops of rain racing down the panel, and all of a sudden, everything was starting to feel much more intense.
And now, on the edge of midnight, here you were standing in the middle of Gally’s hut, staring at the soft blush dusted over his cheeks, and watching his tongue nervously dart out to lick his pretty lips.
“Y/n?”
“Yeah?” You looked over to him with wide eyes, almost fearing what he was about to say.
“What are you doing here?” He finally asked, his voice impossibly soft. “Why’d you come?”
“Did you not want me to?” You asked.
“I wanted you to come, it’s just…”
“Weird?”
“–confusing,” he finished.
You looked at him for a moment, taking in his wide eyes and hands nervously fidgeting, and you suddenly started feeling like this wasn’t as good a decision as you had hoped.
“Maybe this was a bad idea,” you finally said, turning towards the door.
“I don’t want you to leave, it’s just–,”
“No, you were right,” you interrupted, sucking your teeth for a moment before continuing. “It is confusing.”
“I don’t care if it’s confusing, though,” he shook his head.
What had you been hoping for when you came to Gally’s? What had you even been expecting when Gally let you inside? What were you thinking when you shoved yourself inside a closet instead of doing the normal thing and just telling Minho that you were visiting Gally? Minho was your best friend. If this was something you had to lie about to your own friend, should you even be doing it?
But there was something in you that didn’t care. A feeling for Gally that was too strong to ignore.
“What do you want this to be, Gally?” You asked, staring at him with waiting eyes.
Gally frowned, closing his eyes as if pained by thinking of it.
The rain outside was getting louder, and the wind was still howling in a haunting manner.
“I don’t know,” he finally said.
He looked at you with a pained sense of confusion, and you realised that maybe this was too confusing.
“I should go, Gally.”
“Hey, no,” he winced, following you as you walked towards the door. “Don’t go.”
“I can’t stay, this is too… much. Neither of us knows what we’re doing.” You shook your head, trying to control your emotions before everything you felt towards Gally spilled out.
“It’s pouring outside, just wait a minute,” Gally tried as you opened the door.
“We can talk in the morning,” you said, stepping outside and clicking the door shut behind you and immediately starting to walk away.
He was right, the rain was coming down fast and heavy, and you knew you’d be drenched by the time you got to your hut. But you certainly weren’t about to stay there with him after all that.
You shook your head with a determined frown, hurrying away from Gally’s hut. The rain had coated your hair and clung to your clothes, droplets dripping down your body. The wind was the worst, hitting your skin with a startling sharpness and wildly pushing your hair so it was whipping around your face. Your rain-clogged clothes were growing heavier, but you refused to let it slow you down. Your steps were fast and desperate, but all of a sudden, you felt it.
A hand firmly wrapped around your wrist, desperately clinging onto you with a familiar touch.
You stopped walking, your breath hitching in your throat as you turned around.
Gally.
Rain was dripping down his frame, soaking into his jumper in a way you were sure couldn’t possibly be comfortable. His hair was drenched, and his eyes were unbelievably wild and desperate, staring at you with an unexplainable longing.
The wind wildly thrashed around the two of you, pushing the rain against you with such force.
And all of a sudden, you couldn’t feel the cold at all.
All you could feel was Gally’s lips pressed against yours.
Hungry and desperate as though this was something he had been starved of for far too long.
It surprised you just how right it felt. It didn’t matter that the rain was dripping down on you or that the wind was relentlessly pushing against the two of you. All that mattered was that Gally’s lips were against yours.
At some point, his hand had moved from your wrist to your head, fingers threaded through your billowing hair. His other arm snaked around your waist, clinging to the wet fabric around your waist. The smell of rain was strong, clouding the two of you in a dizzying haze that you could barely comprehend anything other than how perfect it felt being this close to Gally.
When you finally felt yourself pulling away, your bodies remained pressed against one another, rain dripping down Gally’s face, yet he appeared to barely register it.
“I don't care if this is confusing,” he spoke, his eyes intent on yours.
His hand was clutching your arm now, holding you steady as if he was scared you’d run away again.
He reassuringly squeezed your arm, “We’ll figure it out. It doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to be.”
You stared at him for a moment, properly registering the look in his eyes that bordered on desperation. The wind was still swirling around the two of you, yet all you could focus on was the soft buzzing sensation you felt on your lips and the unexplainable warmth running through your body.
“Okay.”
Gally grinned, “Okay?”
“Yes, yes, okay,” a smile broke on your face. “We can figure it out as we go.”
He leaned in to kiss you again, quicker this time, with a certain sweetness that made you feel as if spring had bloomed around you rather than the wild winter that circled you. And when he pulled away, gently squeezing your hand with his, you were hit with a wave of certainty that you and Gally would indeed figure it out.
I love love love your Gally stories! If you ever feel like writing another like the summer heat one, just know I would be lining up to read it!!
winter storms and how to survive them pt. 1/2
pairing: gally x fem!reader
summary: as the glade scrambles to figure out a way to handle a sudden wave of cold weather, you and gally find yourself spending a lot more time together than usual.
warnings: suggestive content, description of injury (not v graphic)
word count: 9.5k
a/n: thank you so very much for the request and your sweet support!! i’m so sorry for the delay in posting, i started this a month ago, but writer's block hit me hard! i hope this lives up to what you’d hoped for, it was lots of fun to write!
for part 2: click here!
for my masterlist: click here!
Waking up in the Glade was a routine you had grown deeply familiar with.
Each morning, you would wake up, open your hut’s window, and you’d sit on your bed. You would lean against the wall and let the wind gently kiss your skin while you listened to the quiet buzz of the Glade waking up and getting ready for the day.
It was a nice routine.
A reliable routine.
At least, it was.
Today, your routine wasn’t quite the same.
Because when you opened the window today, you were hit with a sharp gust of cold wind. It was loud and howling in your ears, piercing your face until your cheeks were pinched with the cold air pressing into your hut.
Quite frankly, it made the whole ‘peacefully relaxing by the window’ routine rather unpleasant.
With a perplexed frown, you pushed the window shut. The cold air had already infiltrated your hut, wrapping you in an icy cold grasp. You hurriedly escape to the small shower connected to your room.
The room was small – an ensuite according to Gally – adorned with a small sink, a white toilet and a bath with a showerhead connected. It was lined with chipped tiles, all the colour of oats except for two; one was painted in colours of red, gold, green and blue in Chuck’s attempt at a rainbow. The other had ‘Gally’ written in small block letters with shiny black paint.
When he finished the bathroom and proudly showed it off to you, you immediately called him out for attempting to brand your bathroom. The builders had jeered – pushing and teasing Gally, who scoffed with a deep frown, claiming the bathroom was his idea and the tiles were his art.
You were sure it was just because Gally wanted to boast. He had found a way to ensure that each day you would be reminded that the bathroom was built by him. Gally liked boasting. He liked to show others how he was good at his job and how he was “Keeper of the Builders for a reason”.
Gally often said ridiculously conceited things like that.
You hopped into the shower, eager for the warm water to wash over your cold frame. The weather in the Glade was usually relatively consistent: a soft breeze with the sun gently beaming down. And while sometimes the weather would turn and rain would come, this much wind was just about unprecedented.
You were quick to get dressed after you dried off, putting on your usual shorts and singlet, but layering it with a long-sleeve top – unfortunately, you didn’t have much warmer options. As you brushed your teeth, you reassured yourself that you’d no doubt warm up as the day went on – this was simply a fleeting morning chill.
You reconsidered your outfit choice when you opened your door and were met with a shocking gust of wind. You were starting to get the idea that this might not be the type of cold that fades through the day. With a groan, you made your way into the kitchen to grab breakfast. The area was abuzz with Gladers incessantly whining about the weather from their respective benches.
Grabbing toast and a small pat of butter, you made a beeline towards your usual picnic bench where Newt and Chuck were already sitting. To your surprise, Alby was sitting with the pair. Alby and Newt were friends, so it wasn’t exactly unheard of, but it certainly wasn’t an everyday occurrence.
As you sat down in front of the trio, Chuck looked at you with wide eyes, nodding his head (without an ounce of subtlety) towards Alby.
“Hey, Y/n,” Newt greeted you with a smile, his soft tone doing nothing to conceal his worried disposition.
“What’s goin’ on?” You frowned. “You look worried.”
“Nothin’ for you lot to worry about.”
You squinted with doubt, looking to Chuck pointedly.
“Alby here just wanted to have a chat about the weather.”
“Riveting,” you rolled your eyes, biting down on the piece of toast in front of you.
Chuck giggled, his mouth glistening with the sticky jam from his toast.
“That it is,” Alby gave you a bemused smile. “Anyway, I’m off. I’ll see you lot around.”
“Bye, Alby!” Chuck chirped.
Newt, on the other hand, gave Alby a nod before turning to his food with a frown.
“What’s Alby doing having breakfast with us?” You asked, Newt.
“Worried about the weather,” Newt murmured. “It’s not a big deal – we’ve had cold days before, but the animals didn’t love it, and it always does some damage to the plants, so he wants to figure out some preventative measures.”
“Anyway,” Newt continued, clearing his throat as he crumpled up his napkin. “Some of the Gladers are being a tad on the crazy side and freakin’ ‘bout the weather, so Alby doesn’t want us making a big spectacle of it all.”
“I assume one of those Gladers is Gally?” You said with a laugh.
Gally loved to act all tough, but the second the slightest bit of change came about, he would start acting up.
“Don’t even get me started,” Newt groaned, Chuck giggling beside him. “Gally has been positively tweakin’ all mornin’. Raving about how ‘the end times are approaching’.”
Newt rolled his eyes, and you couldn’t help but laugh.
“He’s been going crazy!” Chuck guffawed, clutching his stomach as he rocked forward. “Whole breakfast, he’s been staring at Alby and Newt as if he’s trying to read their lips.”
You snickered, turning around to peek at Gally’s table, which sat a few tables away from yours. To your distaste, you accidentally made immediate eye contact with the frowning boy who was staring right at your group. Quickly looking to Newt and Chuck, you laughed.
“He gets crazier by the day,” you shook your head, trying to stifle your laughter.
“Annoying as he can get, at least the shank cares about the Glade’s success. Can’t say that much for half the others,” Newt reasoned.
“Yeah, yeah, Gally’s great,” you rolled your eyes, looking to Chuck and shaking your head.
This caused Chuck to laugh and for Newt to look up and face you with a frown.
“Gally’s a good worker,” Newt lectured.
“He’s good at makin’ up conspiracies,” you scoffed. “You'd better put him in his place quick, or else he’ll give the others the idea that we’ve got a problem.”
“I’m hopin’ he’ll get the idea when he doesn’t see Alby and me plotting our game plan,” Newt heaved a sigh. “If you see him, mind letting him know that we’re not concerned?”
“Good that,” Chuck replied.
“’Course,” you nodded. “I don’t foresee my paths crossing with Gally’s much today. I’ve barely talked to him other than those first few weeks when I first came to the Glade.”
“Thanks anyway,” Newt gave you a smile, piling his cutlery on his plate before standing up. “I’ve gotta get to the animal pens and check on the little cows and pigs.”
“Oooh, can I come?” Chuck perked up, eagerly looking at Newt.
“If you’re quick,” Newt said with a stern frown. “Can’t have you slacking off all day.”
Newt was one of the Gladers to give in to Chuck the quickest; he had a soft spot for the young Glader.
“Well, of course!” Chuck garbled, quickly gathering his cutlery and trash so he could follow Newt.
“Guess I should head off too,” you said with a sigh as you stood up.
“Oh yeah,” Newt paused. “I was meant to let you know that Clint’s off sick.”
“Are you kidding?” You groaned.
“Nope, sorry,” Newt winced. “If it gets too busy with just you an’ Jeff, I’ll try to figure something out.”
“It’s fine, let’s just hope it’s not busy.”
˚✶⋆. .⋆✶˚
Surprisingly, the medbay had been fairly quiet. It was almost too quiet for your liking. Without anyone to talk to, you were growing desperate for something to do.
Jeff had been called out to help a Track Hoe who had accidentally cut his leg while gardening. Given that Jeff had been gone for two hours, you figured it was safe to assume that he had been as bored as you were.
You heaved a sigh, sitting yourself on one of the beds for the patients. Given you had already rearranged the medication, dusted the shelves and swept the entire room, you were certain you deserved a break. Leaning against the pillows propped up behind you, you allowed your eyes to gently shut.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Startled, you quickly shot up from your relaxed position, your head colliding with a very hard object in front of you.
“Ouch,” the same voice growled.
You scrunched your nose, rubbing your forehead before turning to find a very aggravated Gally scowling at you – a red mark splashed across his forehead.
“What the hell are you doing?” You hissed, frowning at Gally.
“This is the medbay, is it not?” Gally glowered. “Why is the idea of a patient such a foreign concept to you?”
“I meant, standing right over me,” you drawled.
“Well, sorry for being curious,” Gally snarled.
“Curious about what? I was literally just sitting down!”
“Usually it’s the patients that lay down in these beds.”
“So? Do you see any patients in here?”
“Yes, me.” Gally shot back, his eyebrows furrowed.
“I meant before you came in,” you rolled your eyes. “What do you want, Gally?”
“I was looking for Clint.”
“Why? Too good for me to treat you?”
“No,” Gally shot you a frown. “I need to talk to him about Glade business.”
“So, you’re not a patient afterall.” You scoffed, swinging yourself off the bed.
“I am,” Gally spluttered, waving his hand around as he tried to come up with a defence. “I’m here for help – is that not what a patient does?”
“Okay, well, lie down then,” you clutched his bicep as you ushered him towards the bed you had been sitting on.
“What? No.” Gally scowled, trying to pull himself out of your grip. “Get off me.”
“Well, you made it seem like you needed to lie down, kicking up such a fuss that I was in it.”
“Whatever,” Gally frowned, pulling his arm away from your lingering hold.
After a beat of awkward silence, you realised Gally must have been waiting for you to tell him where Clint was.
“Clint’s not here, so you can go,” you gave him an expectant stare.
“Where is he?” Gally frowned, looking around the empty medbay. “Where’s Jeff, even?”
“Went to help some trackhoe who apparently nicked their leg. Left a while ago.”
“So he should be back soon, then, right?”
“Beats me,” you shrugged, walking away from Gally towards one of the counters.
You pushed yourself up, letting yourself sit on the edge of the counter, which unsurprisingly got an unimpressed reaction from Gally.
“Get down, that’s gross,” Gally scrunched his nose.
“Rude,” you frowned.
“It’s unhygienic,” Gally spluttered, walking towards you with his arms crossed.
“It’s fiiine, I do it all the time,” you said with a casual shrug.
“That’s disgusting,” Gally deadpanned.
“Well, you banned me from the bed, what else do you want me to do?”
“Stand, like a normal person.”
“I just banged my head into yours. Excuse me for feeling too dizzy to stand.”
“Please, it wasn’t that bad.”
“Your head may be empty, but it sure is hard,” you quipped.
“My head’s not empty,” Gally glowered, his frown deepening.
“Yeah, whatever,” you grinned. “I bet you heard an echo from the sound of our heads hitting.”
“I did not,” Gally protested.
“Sure, Gal’,” you drawled, snickering to yourself.
“It’s not like you’re too smart,” Gally started. “Last time I checked, you’re not even a keeper.”
“You’re the keeper of the builders, aka the dumbest of the bunch.”
“Whatever, at least I’m keeper of something,” Gally argued, taking a step closer to you.
You rolled your eyes. Sometimes, Gally could be so testing.
“How’s your head?” You asked, beginning to gently swing your legs back and forth, your heels softly hitting the counter with a soft thump.
“Pounding.” He put his hand on your knee, stilling the swinging.
“That’s why you shouldn’t sneak up on people,” you shrugged him off.
Gally shook his head, rolling his eyes.
“Mine doesn’t hurt that bad.” You added.
“Okay?”
“Soooo, maybe you’re just being dramatic,” you shrugged, stifling a smirk at Gally’s immediate frown.
“Your head went flying into mine. I took the brunt of it.”
“Hmm.”
“It’s true,” Gally said, clearly exasperated.
You eyed his forehead, partially joking because you were fully aware that Gally had a habit for the dramatics. Sensing your inspection, Gally stepped in closer.
“See?” He asked, waving his forehead in front of your eyes.
“Stop moving,” you laughed, reaching out to grab hold of his face.
He was awkwardly positioned in front of your legs and was very aware that if you moved your legs apart slightly, he would slide right between them. Then he would be really close to you. Gally blinked back the thought, feeling his face flush at the idea.
“Stop blinking like that,” you demanded, pressing your fingers into his forehead.
“Ow!” Gally protested, yet he didn’t dare move away from your grasp.
You laughed.
“You’ll be fine, might wanna ice it though, looks like you’re already getting a bump there.”
“I am?!” Gally frowned.
“Maybe,” you shrugged, pushing his head away from you and jumping down from the bench.
Gally hurried out of your way, certain he wouldn’t be able to handle the feeling of your body pressed against his as you moved from the counter. Unfortunately, he couldn’t quite move fast enough, and he found you stood much closer to him than he could handle. If he moved just a couple of inches forward, he would be completely pressed against you. If only you were still sitting on the counter, with your legs slightly parted so Gally could slide right between them and-
“Gally?” You looked at him with an uncertain frown.
Gally jolted, hurriedly stepping away from you.
“What?” He forced himself to say, trying to pull himself together and very, very far away from the absurd thoughts he had allowed himself to linger on.
“Uh, nothing, you just looked kinda out of it,” you stared at him uncertainly. “Thought the head injury got the best of you.”
Gally forced a laugh, still feeling a bit dazed – I mean, it wasn’t like he hadn’t had thoughts like those before, but never had they felt so… tangible?
Gally shook his head, as if he could wave the thoughts off.
“Yeah, no, I’m fine,” Gally mumbled. “Yeah, uh… fine.”
“Maybe I should check if you have a concussion.” You stared at him, eyes wide with uncertainty as you reached for his face again.
“No, no, I’m fine,” Gally shrugged you off. “Really.”
“Alright,” you replied hesitantly, clearly unconvinced. “At least ice it then.”
“Not necessary.”
“If you say so. You will look pretty lame having a funny red bump on your forehead, though.” You started. “Can’t imagine the Gladers passing up the opportunity to make fun of that.”
You were provoking him. Gally may put up his tough, unbothered act, but you knew how easily he got hung up on the Gladers’ opinion of him.
“Alright, I’ll ice it, just quickly.”
“Good idea,” you gave him a grin, moving to the small freezer placed near the two of you.
“I mean, it was your idea, but whatever,” Gally grumbled, following you towards the front of the room.
“Alright, here,” you stood back up from the freezer, triumphantly holding out an ice pack.
“Thanks.”
“Not a problem,” you shrugged, pushing the ice pack against his forehead, causing him to hiss.
“That hurts,” Gally scowls, stepping away from you and the ice pack.
“You’re such a baby. It’s probably colder outside,” you rolled your eyes.
You watched Gally falter at the mention of the weather. Mentally kicking yourself, you scrunched up your face, realising you just set up the perfect excuse for him to go on an insane tangent about his psycho-theories on why it’s so cold.
“Y’know, I’m glad you brought that up becau-,” Gally started, but quickly stopped when you pushed the ice pack back onto his forehead.
“Ow,” Gally grunted, taken aback by your force. “Jeez, you’re not very delicate with patients, are you?”
“You’re not even a real patient, Gally,” you heaved a sigh, moving the ice pack away as Gally rubbed at his forehead. “You’re such a baby, do you need me to kiss it better now?”
You were joking, but Gally looked at you with startled eyes.
“I was kidding,” you gave him an uncertain frown.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Gally mumbled, his voice slightly gruff.
You winced at the awkward silence beginning to fill the room.
“Can you uh, feel the bump?” You asked.
“Not really,” Gally murmured, moving the ice pack away so he could slide his palm against his forehead.
“You’re not even feeling the right spot,” you laughed, putting your hand behind his head so you could pull his head closer to you, placing your other hand against his forehead.
Gally was sure he could combust any minute.
You softly rubbed your finger over the bump by the corner of his face.
“It’s just here,” you murmured, your voice so soft that Gally felt warmth rush over him.
“Whoa, what is goin’ on in here?”
You and Gally jumped away from one another, snapping your heads to the front of the medbay to be met with a smirking Jeff.
“Oh, hey,” you dropped your shoulders, forcing yourself to calm down. “Gally hit his head, was just checking it out.”
You hadn’t been doing anything bad. You were just checking Gally’s head. So, you weren’t sure why you felt so embarrassed at the idea of Jeff walking in and seeing you. You really hadn’t been doing anything.
“Yeah,” Gally unhelpfully chimed in, blankly staring at Jeff.
“Uh, alright.”
“Yeah, he’s fine, just gotta ice it a bit, right Gally?” You pushed the ice pack into his chest.
“Yeah, right,” Gally nodded slowly.
“Right,” Jeff repeated, pausing for a moment before speaking again.
“Anything else?” Jeff eyed Gally uncertainly, clearly waiting for Gally to get out.
“I’m waitin’ for Clint, he comin’ back soon?”
“Clint’s out sick,” Jeff explained.
“What?”
“He’s sick,” Jeff repeated, staring at Gally like he was an idiot.
“No, he’s not.”
“Yes… he is.”
“You said he was helping some trackhoe!” Gally turned to you accusingly.
“No, I said that’s what Jeff was doing.”
“You did not.”
“Did to!”
Gally heaved a frustrated sigh.
“We’ve got a Keeper’s meeting in-,” he paused to look down at his watch. “Well, it started five minutes ago. I was meant to be collecting Clint for it.”
“Well, you’ve done a lousy job at that,” you laughed, eyeing Jeff with a cheeky grin.
Jeff coughed a laugh, causing Gally’s cheeks to tint pink.
“I was waiting for him to get back,” Gally angrily spoke through gritted teeth.
“You’ll be waiting a while,” Jeff smirked.
Gally scowled.
“One of you has to come for him then.”
“That’s all you, Y/n,” Jeff raised his arms in defence.
“Seriously?” You groaned.
“I’ve been outside for like two hours straight, I’ll get frostbite if I’m out there any longer.”
“Meetings are so boring, though.”
“Keeper’s meetings are different to general meetings,” Gally said.
“I bet they’re still boring,” You groaned.
“You’ll be fine,” Gally grunted, holding onto your wrist to drag you out the door. “Let’s go before we’re late.”
“Fine,” you groaned in defeat. “Later, Jeff.”
“Have fun!” Jeff gave you a playful wink as you left, Gally shutting the door behind the two of you.
˚✶⋆. .⋆✶˚
“He’s shameless,” Gally said as the two of you walked towards the homestead.
“Who?” You frowned, turning to look behind you. “Jeff?”
“Yeah, flirtin’ with you,” Gally shook his head.
“He’s not flirting with me,” you spluttered, half amused at Gally’s obvious anger and half concerned at his complete inability to decipher social situations.
“Yeah he was,” Gally grumbled. “Winkin’ around like some whore.”
You coughed a laugh, looking to him with bewilderment, “Are you kidding?”
“No,” he frowned, turning to you and seeing the shock on your face. “I don’t know… maybe.”
You gave him a sceptical glance.
“What’s this meeting for anyway?” You asked.
“The weather.”
You stopped walking, locking eyes with Gally with an unimpressed stare.
“Seriously?”
“Yes. Now keep walking, we’re gonna be late.”
“Gally, this is gonna be some pointless meeting about your silly worries.”
“It’s not.” Gally frowned. “And I don’t get ‘silly worries’, I have reasonable concerns that I demand preparing for.”
“This is ridiculous,” you shook your head, begrudgingly beginning to walk with him again.
“It’s necessary.”
You rolled your eyes as the two of you approached the Homestead. The structure was tall and creaky, leaning over the two of you with a groan. The wood was clearly well-worn, peeling slightly and no doubt beginning to mould from all the times it had rained. You were shocked it had lasted the past two years yet here it stood.
“This place is a mess,” you muttered, standing by the door to look at the weak structure.
Gally scoffed, clearly offended that you had dared to insult his most prized work.
“This place is a symbol of success.”
“What’s it gonna symbolise when it collapses down on all of us?” You quipped, grabbing at the door handle.
“Not happenin’.”
“Sure,” you gave him a teasing look before swinging the door open, finding yourself greeted with ten Gladers sat in a circle, all turned to face you and Gally.
“Er, hi,” you said, awkwardly walking through the door towards the empty space beside Newt.
“Glad you two finally decided to join us,” Alby spoke, his voice heavy and his stare unwavering.
“Yeah, well, I couldn’t find Clint, wasted a fair bit of time on that one,” Gally grumbled, sitting in the seat opposite you.
“He’s sick,” the Gladers said in unison.
“Maybe one o’ you coulda told me that.” Gally leaned back with a scowl.
“You didn’t figure that out when you arrived at the Medbay and saw no Clint?” Newt gave Gally a pointed look.
“Okay, well-,” Gally began to lean forward in his seat, his voice beginning to rise in defence.
“Enough.” Alby interrupted, clearly noticing the signs that Gally was about to go off on one of his rants. “Let’s stay focused – what we’re gonna do about this weather.”
“Now,” Alby continued, seeing Gally open his mouth in a clear indication he was eager to complain. “While the weather doesn’t present any concerns on the Glade’s general safety, it is worrying for crops an’ animals, as well
“Worrying for the Gladers too,” Newt added.
“I already said animals,” Alby replied, stony-faced in a way that made you almost miss his joke. “They’ve already started complainin’ – fussy bunch we got, but one thing I know is we’re also resilient. We’re in difficult circumstances with the shuck maze already, I don’t expect a cold day to be the thing that breaks us.”
“Alright,” Alby clapped his hands together, standing up and beginning to walk around the circle of gladers. “You lot are gonna be divided into small groups and work on whatever task I give you – once I call it out, get started right away and no arguing.”
A chorus of “good that’s” rang out as Alby stared down the group, who were nodding their heads.
“Now, Y/n and Gally you two were gonna work with Fry sortin’ out some warm beverages to give around, but since you lot appear to have a habit of gallivanting off to do who knows what, you’ll be working with me,” Alby spoke, his tone stern.
“Doin’ what?” Gally scoffed, his eyebrows drawn into a deep frown that was very rudely directed right at you (as if it were your fault the guy got easily distracted).
“Chopping wood for some fires.”
“You’re kidding,” you scowled. “That’s like the worst job we could’ve gotten!”
“No complaining, get to it,” Alby demanded, quickly shutting your complaints down. “Get supplies from the shed, and I’ll meet you at the front of the Deadheads shortly, and you better be there when I’m done here.”
You stifled a groan, shooting a glare at Gally as you stood up. He sulked over towards you, seemingly unimpressed by your apparent attitude.
“Quit lookin’ at me like that,” he muttered as you headed toward the exit.
“Your stupidity means instead of making a few cups of lousy hot chocolate,” you started, pushing the door open to exit, “- I instead have to spend the day chopping wood in the freezing cold.”
“Whatever,” Gally rolled his eyes, striding ahead of you in the direction of the supply shed.
You awkwardly half-jogged, half-walked to catch up with him.
“What supplies are we even getting?” You asked, in no mood to argue with Gally.
“We’ll just get an axe or two, I reckon we have a decent supply of logs ready to be split, so one of us can focus on bringin’ ‘em over, and the others can focus on chopping them.”
“Alright, well, we'd better hurry, if we’re not at the Deadheads by the time Alby’s done, he’ll be fuming.”
“Good that.” Gally nodded, pushing the shed’s door open.
This elicited a shrill squeal from the metal hinges, causing you to wince.
“How old are all these buildings?” You scoffed, shutting the door behind the two of you.
The shed was relatively small, consisting of dusty wooden shelves widely unsorted with tools scattered across the place. There was only one small window covered in a thick layer of cobwebs and dust that blocked the little sunlight from outside. You switched the light on, the bulb flickering for a few seconds before lighting the area with a small orange glow.
“You’ve gotta start on renovations, this is…” you looked around with a frown. “…this is just a straight-up mess.”
“Slim it,” Gally glowered, clearly sick of your continuous digs at his buildings. “Just find an axe, and we can go.”
“I’m probably gonna get tetanus from this rotting metal,” you scrunched your nose up, looking around at the crowded shelves of metal supplies.
You truly weren’t exaggerating; the room was an absolute mess of dust and rusting metal.
“I’m getting sick of your complaining. I didn’t even do half this stuff; I just made the building plans for this one. I’m not responsible for cleaning it up or whatever.” Gally grumbled, following close behind you with an annoyed frown.
“I guess,” you murmured, walking away from Gally to look at other shelves.
“It’s freezing in here,” you groaned, hugging your arms to your body. “Where are the stupid axes?”
“Found ‘em,” Gally called out, heaving as he dragged two axes off one of the top shelves.
“Great, let’s get outta here.” You eagerly reached for the door handle, pushing at the door.
Weirdly, it didn’t budge. You frowned, jiggling the handle as you tried to force it open.
“Move,” Gally heaved a sigh, stepping toward the door to push it open.
The door still didn’t move, the handle weakly squeaked and squealed, yet the door remained still.
Gally frowned, turning back to you with a confused frown.
“Open it,” you said, pushing his shoulder lightly so he would try again.
“I can’t – it won’t open,” Gally sounded dumbfounded dropping the axes to the floor so he could put his weight against the door.
“Are you serious?”
“No, I’m joking,” Gally drawled, glaring at you. “Obviously, I’m serious. Why would I joke about this?”
“How can it not be opening?” You pushed past him to give the door another go, frowning when it still wouldn’t move.
“I told you.”
“How is this possible? It opened fine.”
“It’s old, rusty metal.”
“Do we just wait it out?” You turned back to look at Gally for guidance.
“I guess,” Gally grumbled. “Don’t see what other choice we have.”
With a huff, you resolved to sit on the floor while you waited. Gally stared down at you, seemingly contemplating whether he should remain standing or join you on the floor.
“Now what do we do?” You asked, looking around the room as if something to do would suddenly pop out.
“Dunno,” Gally shrugged.
He hesitantly took a seat beside you on the cold floorboards, careful to keep a respectable distance between the two of you.
“There must be something in here that’d entertain us,” you turned around to look at the shelves positioned behind the two of you.
Gally could feel his face beginning to flush, realising the distance he had chosen was not nearly as respectable as he desperately needed it to be and quickly shuffled back in shame.
“We could just talk,” Gally suggested, trying to keep his attention away from your body stretched up to look at the shelves.
“About what?” You turned back to face him with a frown.
“Uh, I don’t know, anything?” Gally frowned, starting to doubt himself now.
The whole situation was becoming quite unbearable.
In his daily life in the Glade, he didn’t see you much.
He’d catch glimpses of you across the homestead or during bonfires, but he never really sat with you or your group. And he would talk to you if he had to go to the medbay, but he never allowed himself to be treated by you.
Now, he was stuck in a room with no one else to look at or talk to but you. Which was truly more difficult than he ever could have anticipated, because how was he supposed to look at someone so pretty and talk to someone so witty while remaining completely collected and appearing normal, as if he wasn’t obsessing over every look you gave him or every quip you shot at him.
Gally pulled himself out of his thoughts, forcing himself to look up at you. Your eyes were trained on him, a look of curiosity clouding your face.
“Whatcha thinking about?” You asked, raising your eyebrows as if it were a challenge.
It certainly felt like a challenge. Like you knew exactly what Gally was thinking and only asked to tease him with a relentless cruelty.
“Nothin’,” Gally murmured, daring himself to meet your eyes.
“Liar.”
“Nosy.”
“And proud.”
Gally rolled his eyes, a small smirk tugging at his lips. You could faintly hear the wind howling outside, feel the icy air slipping through the small gap under the door.
“Y’know,” you started, but before you could finish, there was a sudden sizzle sounding from above.
Before the two of you had a chance to so much as process what was happening, you heard a small pop and all of a sudden, everything was dark.
“What’d you do?”
“What’d I do?” Even in the dark, you could hear the frown in Gally’s tone. “I didn’t do anything; the light bulb obviously broke.”
“How does that just break?”
“If the light gets too hot, sometimes the cold weather shocks it, and it’ll zap out,” Gally replied.
You started to stand up, but stopped at the feel of Gally’s hand grabbing at your wrist to still you.
“What are you doing? I can hear you moving around. You’re gonna step on glass, just sit back down.” Gally said, his voice laced with exasperation as he gently pulled you back down.
Sitting back down proved to be more awkward than you had anticipated. With the dark clouding your vision, you had to desperately hope you wouldn’t land on a pile of glass or in Gally’s lap. Slowly beginning to duck back down to the floor, you couldn’t decide whether you would be better off feeling down beneath you and risking crashing into a pile of glass or caressing Gally’s lap, or if it would be better to just risk it and sit yourself wherever you landed.
“Could you move any slower?” Gally grumbled, giving your wrist a gentle tug.
“Well, sorry for not wanting to land in a pile of glass or worse; your lap.”
“I’m literally guiding you down with my hand, why do you think I’m clutching your wrist?” Gally scowled, trying to keep himself composed despite the mention of you sitting on his lap, making him feel unbelievably uncomposed and ridiculously aroused.
“Figured you were just scared of the dark,” you quipped, sitting yourself back down beside Gally with admittedly, a bit more force than necessary.
Thankfully, you hadn’t ended up on glass or on Gally, although you were certainly a decent bit closer than you had been before, and you found your side gently pressed against his.
A silence fell between the two of you; it felt odd sitting beside one another and not being able to see what the other was doing.
“So,” you started, giving him a small nudge. “How’s your head?”
“What?” Despite his attempt to conceal his shock, his voice came out slightly higher than he had anticipated.
“Like… did the swelling go down since you hit it?”
In that moment, Gally truly could not have been more grateful for the darkness that concealed his initial reaction to that question.
“Yeah, yeah, uh-, it’s fine, I guess.” Gally stumbled over his words, desperately attempting to pull himself together. “Can’t exactly tell if it looks swollen, considering I can’t see nothin’ right now.”
“I’ll figure it out for you.”
Before Gally had a chance to even react, he felt your icy-cold fingertips hesitantly touch the edge of his shoulder.
“Where’s your forehead?” You laughed, sitting up so you could reach him better.
“That’s my shoulder,” Gally said, attempting to make his voice sound as light and carefree as yours, but instead sounding rather out of breath and flustered.
Your hands fumbled against Gally’s upper chest, laughing gently as your fingers danced across him.
“Your fingers are freezing,” he muttered. “And you’re nowhere near my forehead.”
Before you could remind him that the room was pitch black and so he shouldn’t be surprised by the fact that you weren’t near his forehead, you felt his hand grab yours and drag it up to his forehead.
“The bump’s basically gone, I told you it wasn’t a big deal,” you murmured. “How is your hand so warm?”
“’Because I can…” Gally began, finding the feeling of your hand rubbing against his forehead more distracting than anticipated.
He coughed, forcing himself to focus despite the persistent panging in his stomach that had started since your hand had met his head.
“I can handle the cold better than you.”
“You’re the one freaking out about the cold, so I wouldn’t go that far,” you scoffed, moving your hand away from his forehead and closer to his hair that had been gently brushing against your fingers. “Your hair’s soft.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am,” you let out a small laugh, blindly running your hand through his short hair. “Didn’t think you were the type to bother washing it.”
“Are you insinuating you think I’m dirty?” Gally frowned in the darkness.
He couldn’t say he was all that offended. He hated the idea that you thought that low of him, but that hate was easy to forget when the feeling of your fingers lacing through his hair was driving him absolutely crazy.
Before you had a chance to explain any further, a sudden thud was heard at the door. Gally jolted and immediately jumped up from the floor with a surprising sense of fear at the thought of someone walking in and catching the two of you. Unfortunately, the dark had cleverly concealed just how close you were sitting to him. This caused him to greatly misjudge where you were and lead to him awkwardly elbowing your side in his hurry.
At the impact, you instinctively shuffled yourself out of his way, only for your hands to be met with the shards of glass from the shattered lightbulb to press into your palms.
“Ouch,” you hissed, pulling your hands away from the floor.
“Shit, sorry,” Gally winced, assuming your reaction to be a result of him clumsily banging into you on his way up. “I hadn’t realised you were so close.”
“No, it’s the glass,” you explained, your voice being overshadowed by two more firm bangs on the door.
You could hear a quiet, “what on earth?” being murmured from outside the shed.
“What? Here,” Gally reached his hand out in the direction he assumed you to be.
Without the lights, you of course had no clue he had done such a thing, only realising when you stood up and felt his hand graze against your body.
“What are you doing, Gally?” You widened your eyes in shock, stepping back.
“I was trying to help you up!” Gally hurried, his voice slightly strained.
“Well, you did a bad job,” you grumbled, hesitantly reaching your hands forward in an attempt to avoid colliding with Gally again.
Your fingertips gently brushed against Gally’s forearm.
“Is that… you?” Gally asked hesitantly.
“Who on earth else, Gally?” You seethed, your patience quickly withering.
You moved your hand closer to his, linking your pinky into his. Gall inhaled sharply, the feeling of your finger trailing down his forearm, leaving a tingly line that made it feel as if you had carved your touch into his skin. After your snappy response before, Gally didn’t dare ask what you were doing.
“Just so we know where the other is,” you murmured, clearly sensing his question.
You gave his arm a gentle nudge towards the door with your shoulder, edging closer. The banging had stopped, and you couldn’t help but feel that the two of you might be trapped in the shed for the rest of the night.
“Maybe they’re gon–,” Gally started, but was cut off by a loud bang.
The door swung open, light flooding the room as a gust of wind hit the two of you immediately. In front of you stood a very surprised Newt and a perplexed Chuck. Newt’s forehead creased with confusion as his eyes snapped between you and Gally and then down to your finger wrapped around Gally’s.
You quickly snapped your hand away from Gally’s, not keen to send the wrong message.
“What the hell are you two doin’ in here?” Newt eyed the two of you suspiciously.
His eyes scanned the small shed, looking back to you and Gally as he looked over your bodies, seemingly trying to determine how dishevelled you might’ve been. You realised what Newt was thinking. Gally seemed to be coming to the same conclusion you were and quickly jumped to explain.
“We were just in here gettin’ some axes, y’know, for the…” Gally trailed off, looking around the room to find where the axes were placed. “For the uh, firewood.”
Newt looked from Gally to you, obviously under the impression this was some weak excuse Gally had conjured up.
“But, then the door wouldn’t open, so we’ve been stuck in here.” You added.
“Yeah,” Newt spoke slowly. “There was a bunch of dirt and stuff in front of the door. Wind must’ve blown it in front.”
“Must’ve,” you nodded, pursing your lips together awkwardly.
Newt heaved a sigh, looking to Chuck, who was awkwardly hovering by the door. Newt decided not to push either you or Gally, instead passing the two axes to Gally.
“What happened here?” Newt frowned at the pile of glass on the floor, his eyes catching on the small beads of blood spouting from your palm. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” you waved him off. “Light bulb shattered in here though.”
“Did you… Rub your hands over the glass?” Newt quipped, staring at your hands still.
“No, Gally’s just has no form of spatial awareness.”
“It was pitch black,” Gally scowled. “How was I supposed to know you were so close to me?”
“Why were you so close to him?” Newt’s face wrinkled with disgust.
Chuck peered at you curiously, clearly holding back a giggle.
“It wasn’t intentional,” you replied. “He said so himself; it was pitch black; we didn’t know where the other was.”
“Knew well enough to hold hands, though,” Newt retorted with a pointed stare.
“Hey, that was just beca-,” you started.
“Look, what you two get up to in the dark of the shed isn’t my business.” Newt raised his hands in defence. “Alby’s been waitin’ for you lot, I’d hurry on off to the Deadheads if I were you.”
Gally groaned, and you scrunched up your nose.
“Got it.”
“We’ll talk later then, Y/n,” Newt said, eyes fixated on you with an accusatory glint.
“Yep,” you nodded, knowing your dinner would be spent getting lectured by Newt and relentlessly teased by Minho. “Let’s go, Gally. Later, Chuck.”
“Bye!” Chuck chortled, waving his hand at you.
Gally nodded in Newt’s direction, following you out of the shed and giving Newt a tight-lipped smile that bordered on being more of a grimace.
“We weren’t that long, right?” You murmured, hurriedly walking towards the Deadheads.
“No, nah,” Gally frowned. “Surely not. And it’s not like we could help it – we were locked in.“
“Right, true,” you nodded, trying to ignore the weird sense of awkwardness that had fallen between you and Gally.
You turned your focus to the Deadheads in front of you, trying to catch a glimpse of wherever Alby was. Your hands were aching slightly, and you had to refrain from trying to pick the shards out of your palm. You’d have to hope Alby was understanding enough to let you go to the Medbay quickly.
“Now, where the hell have you two been?” Alby stepped into view, arms crossed over his chest with a testing stare.
“Sorry, the door to the shed was busted,” you winced.
“How’d you get out?” Alby asked, staring at the two of you doubtfully.
“Newt,” Gally replied.
“Newt?” Alby repeated. “He’s meant to be helping Fry in the kitchen.”
“Yeah, well, I think Chuck was trying to get in but had to get Newt to help.” You replied with a grimace, hoping Alby would believe you.
“Likely story,” Alby grumbled, shaking his head. “Whatever, you’re here now, let’s get to work.”
“Actually,” you winced. “I got some glass in my hand.”
“And I suppose you want to go to the Medbay?” Alby sighed.
“Well, yeah.”
“Fine,” Alby sighed. “I guess you can just go help Newt and Fry in the kitchen today, Gally and I will sort the firewood out.”
“Thanks, Alby,” you shot him a small smile, which he begrudgingly returned.
“Bye, Gally! Have fun with your wood.” You called out, giving Gally a cheeky grin as you hurried off.
˚✶⋆. .⋆✶˚
After a quick trip to the Medbay, you were faced with 30 minutes of Newt’s incessant questions and an hour of Frypan’s relentless teasing. To your relief, the kitchen soon grew particularly busy with Gladers begging for warm food and hot beverages, which distracted Frypan and Newt enough to focus on meeting the Gladers’ demands, and the discussion of Gally finally ceased. Unfortunately, the bustling atmosphere of the kitchen did nothing to pull you away from thoughts of Gally.
Gladers would complain about the soup not being warm enough, and all you could think of was how Gally’s eyes on you felt.
Newt would tell you to fetch more cocoa powder, and all you would think of was how Gally’s hand had felt over yours.
Frypan would tell you to boil the kettle, and all you would think of was how it had felt being pressed against Gally in the medbay.
All you could think of was Gally, and it was driving you insane.
The thing that bothered you the most was that you and Gally weren’t even that close. Today was probably the longest time you had spent together. Yet it had affected you so strongly, and you couldn’t understand why.
It was growing beyond irritating, and you longed for the day to end.
When you were finally told you could finish helping out in the kitchen, you couldn’t have felt more relieved to know you could finally have dinner with your friends and be distracted from Gally for good.
With Newt still busying himself in the kitchen, you couldn’t help but secretly feel pleased to know he wouldn’t alert Minho to everything that happened with Gally. When you sat down with Chuck, Minho, and a couple of the runners, you realised your dinner would not be as Gally-free as you had hoped.
The gap between Minho and Ben (who sat opposite you) unfortunately acted as a perfect frame for Gally, who was sitting at the table in front of you. As much as you tried to keep your focus on Minho or Ben, you kept finding your eyes drifting to Gally. His tall frame was hunched over his food, and he wore a grin as he talked to the builders at his table.
Part of you longed for Gally to look over at you, providing the reassurance that you weren’t the only one hung up on the other. But the more rational part of you hoped for Gally not to look over in case he caught you staring at him.
The one thing you knew for sure was that you did not want anyone else’s attention brought to your sudden fascination with Gally.
Unfortunately, this was not a possibility when sitting with the ever-perceptive loudmouth that Minho was.
“What the hell are you starin’ at?” Minho raised his eyebrows at you.
“You?” You scoffed, pushing the food across your plate in an attempt to appear casual.
“I know when people are staring at me – it’s my favourite thing; I am very used to it, and that is not what is happening right now,” Minho stared at you doubtfully before turning behind him.
You quietly groaned as Minho turned around with a knowing smile.
“You’re fucking kidding,” Minho cackled, shaking his head with a grin. “Gally? Did you hit your head, or is this some dare you’ve been put up to?”
“I’m not staring at Gally,” you snapped, although you didn’t sound convincing in the slightest.
“Dude,” Ben turned around to Gally’s table, then faced back to you. “You so were. What else were you looking at?”
“I was looking at you two; you guys talk so incessantly, I’m always stuck looking in your direction.”
“Sure,” Minho rolled his eyes with a grin.
“Are you two dating?” Chuck asked, peering at you curiously.
“Dating? Gally and I?” You stared at Chuck incredulously. “You can’t be serious, Chuck.”
“Never know,” Chuck shrugged, cutting up the roast potatoes on his plate. “Newt thought you two might’ve been gettin’ up to dirty stuff in the shed.”
Your jaw dropped with a frown, and you looked to Chuck with disbelief. Minho appeared so caught off guard that he didn’t even react immediately. Of course, his silence didn’t last long, and he soon started guffawing with delight, rocking back and forth in his seat and nudging Ben.
“What did I miss?” Minho wheezed between laughter.
“We got locked in the shed,” you scowled. “Alby sent us, it’s not like we went there together by choice.”
“I mean… you held hands by choice,” Chuck mumbled, giving Minho a small cheeky smile.
You sighed with frustration. You should’ve talked to Chuck beforehand and warned him that any mention of Gally was strictly forbidden. One thing about the young Glader you knew for sure was that he loved getting Minho’s approval, and making fun of someone was one way to guarantee it.
Minho and Ben were just about choking on their laughter at this point, and you were certainly beginning to draw in unwanted attention. To your horror, Minho (who is nothing if not shameless) turned around to Gally’s table, stared at him for a moment, just to turn back to you, laughing even wilder.
You heaved a frustrated sigh, although a small, amused smile tugged at your lips. It truly was ridiculous when you thought about it. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Gally staring at your table with a withdrawn frown.
You refused to give him the satisfaction of looking back over to him. Minho’s reaction had certainly done a good job of snapping you back into reality. The thought of you being so caught up on someone as frustratingly wry as Gally was ridiculous. With that in mind, you decided that you wouldn’t dare waste your time giving him a second thought. You two weren’t being forced to work together anymore, and you wouldn’t need to interact with him for a long time coming. It looked like that was the end of your very confusing and very brief friendship with Gally.
˚✶⋆. .⋆✶˚
“What the hell were you and Minho saying about me at dinner?”
With an annoyed sigh, you turned around to find a frowning Gally standing by the Homestead’s doorway with crossed arms and an angry glare directed right at you.
“What are you doing here, Gally? Dinner ended ages ago.”
This was true; the Gladers had long cleared out the space, and you had only stayed back to help Frypan find the cocoa powder you had misplaced earlier. Minho and the runners had gone off to give the maps another look-over, and as far as you were aware, Gally and his group had left the kitchen a solid twenty minutes ago.
“I’ve been waiting for you.” He replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I know you and your insufferable group were makin’ fun of me before.”
“We weren’t, don’t be so self-absorbed,” you scoffed, trying to wave him off as you walked past him in the direction of your hut.
“You guys stared right at me and started laughing,” Gally said, quick on your heels as he caught up with easy long strides. “I’m not stupid. At least, not that stupid.”
You faultered. When he put it like that, you actually felt pretty bad.
“Sorry, Gally,” you offered. “We honestly weren’t making fun of you, though; you’re rather paranoid, aren’t you? Chuck had just mentioned the little run-in at the shed, and Minho, of course, got a good kick of it.”
“Good kick of what?” Gally gave you a testing stare, the two of you quickly approaching your hut.
“I don’t know,” you sighed, exasperated. “The idea of you and me being stuck in a tiny, dark shed together.”
“Oh,” Gally paused, recomposing himself. “What’s so funny about that?”
“I don’t know, it was just the way Chuck phrased it,” you had to refrain from rolling your eyes – Gally’s questions were rapidly growing to be annoying. “Newt supposedly thought you and I were up to no good in there.”
“What?”
“Like…” you gave him a hinting stare.
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’ as you stopped in front of your hut. “I think he saw our hands close and made some ridiculous assumptions.”
Gally took in a breath, as if bracing himself to continue.
“What’s so ridiculous about that?”
You whipped your head around to face Gally, your face pinched with shock. Could he hear himself?
Gally gulped, clenching and unclenching his fist with a pained frown as he tried to figure out a way to recover.
“It’s not like I want us doin’ stuff like that,” he coughed. “But I don’t think it’s that crazy of an idea.”
“It is crazy,” you laughed, reaching to open the door of your hut.
“How so?” He scrunched up his face, gently putting his hand over your door to stop you from leaving before answering his questions.
“How so?” You repeated, starting to feel unsure of where Gally was going with this. “It just is. It’s not like we’re that close or have some sort of… crazy sexual tension.”
Gally stiffened at the last part, clearly unsure of where to go from here. He clicked his tongue, eyebrows pulled into a thoughtful frown as he rapped his fingers on your door.
“Done?” You asked, eyeing him curiously.
He looked unsure for a moment, seemingly having not anticipated your answer.
“Yeah,” he started, his voice slow as if he had more to say. “Yeah, right, sorry.”
He moved his hand to open the door for you. His eyes looked blank, staring at you, but you could practically see a million thoughts running through his head.
Part of you wanted to pull him into your room and demand that he tell you everything he was thinking. Allow him to ask all his questions, no matter how annoying they were. Urge him to answer them himself. But you didn’t dare. So instead, you hesitantly walked through the doorway and gave Gally a small smile.
“Alright?” You asked, raising your eyebrows questioningly.
“Yeah, I guess I’ll leave you to it then,” he nodded, slowly beginning to back away. “See you around.”
“See you,” you grimaced slightly, scrunching your nose up as you clicked the door shut.
You weren’t sure what it was, but you were pretty sure Gally had been seeking different answers to his questions. You couldn’t help but wonder if those answers he sought were the ones that lay deep in the back of your mind and pounded in your heart with every breath you took.
Answers you couldn’t dare utter because you knew they would risk everything.
˚✶⋆. .⋆✶˚
The rest of your evening carried on reasonably uneventfully. Shortly after Gally’s departure, you received a visit from Chuck, who was eager to discuss the book he had just finished reading. He sat and chattered to you about the characters he loved and the characters he hated, and how he had expected the ending to be compared to how it was.
After his animated discussion with you (admittedly, it was more to you than with you) over the book, he proceeded to beg you to read it so the two of you could discuss it further. Chuck’s extensive detail of the book made you feel as if you knew enough to present an entire lecture on it, but Chuck insisted this was not the same, leading to your begrudging agreement to read it yourself.
The two of you spent the remaining time discussing miscellaneous topics ranging from Frypan’s hot chocolate (you both agreed it was top-tier) to Newt’s ability to keep Minho in check (you both agreed it was deeply flawed). This continued until around 10:00 pm, when Chuck declared it was “simply too cold” to stay in your hut any longer, though you had a sneaky suspicion he was growing too tired to stay awake much longer. Playfully ruffling his hair, you bid him farewell, and he scurried off to the Homestead, where sleeping bags were set up for the Gladers without huts.
Since Chuck had left, you had spent the time doing anything but sleeping. You had attempted to finish reading your book, tried starting Chuck’s books, and even spent an hour carefully weaving thread into bracelets. It was quickly nearing midnight, but you couldn’t bring yourself to try to sleep. Your mind was buzzing with a million thoughts a minute. All of which centred around one person.
Gally.
You couldn’t get him out of your head, no matter how hard you tried.
You truly did try to ignore your obsessive thoughts, but the urge to see him possessed you in a way you couldn’t possibly ignore. And before you could even process what you really were doing, you were hurriedly throwing on a pair of boots and grabbing your warmest jacket before running out the door.
Outside, the wind was howling with a relentless vigour, icy air hitting you hard as you went towards Gally’s hut, blowing on your hands in an attempt to provide yourself with some form of warmth. While night had well and truly fallen, the sky wasn’t dark enough to entirely shield you from the watchful (and very nosy) eyes of the Gladers. The ground crunched under your quick footsteps, and you hoped no one else would see you sneaking around.
Thankfully, Gally’s hut was in sight, meaning your biggest concern now was whether Gally would actually let you in, or just slam the door right in your face. A soft yellow light glowed from behind the curtains to one of his windows, and as you got closer, you could faintly hear the sound of him moving around inside.
As you raised your hand to his door and let out two quick knocks, you were suddenly hit with a wave of regret. Showing up at his door was insane. Who does that? You were sure he would think you’re an absolute desperate loser. Just as you were wondering if it was too late to run away and disappear into the night, the door swung open.
You took a deep breath in, trying to centre yourself before talking.
part 4 summary: when the due date of your assignment is finally reached, the pressure to figure out what the two of you are hits peter as he scrambles to figure out what to do.
part 4 themes: fluff, enemies to lovers, teeny tiny bit of angst
word count: 2.4k
a/n: thank you guys so much for the support with this series!! i’m so grateful for all of your kind comments <3 this part ended up wildly different to how i had planned, but hopefully it works fine!
masterlist link: here!
series links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4
There was no way Peter was going to let himself be late for class.
Not only was he desperate to prove to you that he was capable of being on time, responsible and dependable, he also knew any progress he had made with you would be right down the drain if he didn’t hand the stupid doll in.
He had set four alarms, packed his bag the day before, and had even gone so far as to text Happy and alert him to the fact that he wouldn’t be free until after class ended at 10:30 am. Happy hadn’t replied, so Peter made sure he sent the same message to Tony Stark as well. Just in case there was an emergency, so they’d know Spiderman would not be available.
After an embarrassing tram ride filled with the baby’s incessant robotic cries, Peter arrived at school. He felt surprisingly nervous. He really wasn’t sure what to expect when he saw you.
You guys never actually addressed the fact that you kissed. Weirdly enough, you basically went straight back to normal afterwards and acted just as you had before. He couldn’t help but wonder if that was a good or bad sign. Where was he even meant to go from here? Ask you on a date? Ask if you were already dating? Kiss you again?
Biting his lip and holding onto the doll tightly, he braced himself to enter the classroom.
“Peter!” Ms Belluva sang out. “You’re on time!”
“Yeah, I’m sorry for being late last lesson,” Peter winced.
“That’s alright, dear, great to see you early today,” Ms Belluva waved him off. “A whole five minutes!”
“Er, yes, I just wanted to make sure I was on time.”
“How considerate!”
Peter gave her a tight smile and walked to the front of the classroom where the teacher was writing on the whiteboard.
“Here’s the baby,” He said, holding it out to her.
“Ah, thank you, Peter.” She smiled warmly, taking the doll from his hands and taking the chip out. “I’m sure you and your partner did a good job! Who was your partner again?”
“Y/n.”
“Oh! How lovely, did you two work well together?”
“Yeah, yeah, really well,” Peter nodded, blushing slightly. “She’s very nice, good worker, y’know.”
“That’s great to hear.”
Peter nodded with a smile, turning to sit at one of the desks in the front row – the one that you usually sat on. As he sat down, other students began to file in, lining up to give the fake babies back to the teacher in a muddle of laughter and chatter.
Peter quickly grew to hate sitting at the front as soon as he realised he had to turn around each time he wanted to check whether you had arrived. Which is exactly what he had been doing for the five minutes until you finally walked in, and it was just that all the air had been sucked out of the room.
You glided into the room, and Peter quickly turned back to the front before you could catch him staring. He could feel his ears burning and his palms beginning to sweat. He forced himself to sit up straighter, pushing his shoulders back to try to seem confident.
He didn’t even know if you’d dare sit with him. You hadn’t sat with him in class before. There wasn’t exactly a reason why you would sit with him now.
He bounced his leg, tapping his pen on the notebook in front of him.
“Hey, Peter.”
He almost sighed with relief.
“Hi, Y/n,” Peter smiled at you, stilling his leg.
“I’m surprised you’re on time,” you mused.
“Of course I am,” Peter blinked. “I needed to give in the baby. I couldn’t let you down.”
“Thanks, Pete,” you grinned, giving him a small nudge.
Before he could say anything more, the teacher clapped her hands together and called everyone’s attention to the front.
˚✶⋆. .⋆✶˚
“Alright, guys, good job handing in your babies! You’ll get your grades back in a week,” Ms Belluva called out. “I’ll see you next class.”
Chairs scraped the floor, and the classroom erupted with conversation. Suddenly, the pressure and stress of figuring out what to do hit Peter all over again. You stood up from your chair and already started collecting your books, and he realised he had to say something fast before you left.
“Heywhatclassdoyouhavenext?” Peter hurried, his words slurring together, causing him to wince.
“Pardon?”
“Sorry, I uh meant to ask what class you had next.”
“Oh, right. I’ve got Maths now,” you said as Peter picked his books up. “What about you?”
“Chem.”
“Oh, cool,” you smiled as the two of you began to walk out of the classroom. “I’ve got that after lunch.”
“Oh, neat.”
He groaned.
Neat? Who says ‘neat’?
The two of you walked out of the classroom, awkwardly stopping by the doorway.
“So…” Peter started, desperately trying to think of what to say.
“I guess I’ll see you next class, then.” You said, slightly rocking back and forth as you searched for something to say.
Peter stayed quiet for a moment, and you took that as your cue to walk away. Before you could, Peter gently held onto your forearm.
“Wait.”
“Yeah?” You looked at him earnestly.
Peter felt his heart tug. He had his chance. He could ask you where the two of you stood, he could ask you out, he could ask any of the million questions pounding in his head. All he had to do was speak.
“Nothing, never mind,” Peter shook his head. “I’ll see you around.”
“Alright,” you hesitated, looking at him suspiciously. “Later, Peter.”
Peter groaned. He had missed his chance, and he had no way of knowing when he would get another.
˚✶⋆. .⋆✶˚
Turns out, Peter had the chance much sooner than expected.
Scrunched up in the corner of his room, between his wall and the end of his bed, was the grey jacket you had worn to his house yesterday. He almost cheered in joy. The excuse to see you because of the assignment may be gone, but at the very least, he had this, which meant he had another reason to see you.
Hey, you left your jacket at mine :) I can drop it off at yours if you’re home?
Peter was delighted to see you were already typing.
oh sorry i didnt realise i left it there! im home but u dont have to drop it off or anythgin i dont wanna hassle you and we have school tmr anyway
Peter frowned, tapping his foot on the ground as he tried to think of a non-desperate, non-pushy and non-annoying way to drop the jacket off at your apartment.
It’s really not a problem! Anyway, I actually have to go past your apartment anyway so it would be on my way anyway
He was sure he sounded unbelievably desperate (especially with his triple use of ‘anyway’), but he was far beyond playing it cool now and was instead set on doing absolutely anything he could to see you again.
okk well its up to u dont feel pressured or nything
Okay! Is it alright if I drop it off in like fifteen minutes? i’m meant to be at Ned’s by 6pm
He felt guilty for lying about seeing Ned, but he didn’t want to seem too pathetic by going all the way to your apartment just to return a jacket, which is something he could easily have done tomorrow.
sure !!
Peter grinned at his phone, texting you a smiley face before grabbing your jacket and hurrying out the door.
“Going to Neds, I’ll be back soon!” He called out to his Aunt before shutting the door behind him.
˚✶⋆. .⋆✶˚
When he finally reached your apartment, Peter had already rehearsed four different ways to greet you, each of which was worse than the other. If he hadn’t lied to you about needing to be at Ned’s house in the next ten minutes, he would’ve had more time to linger outside your apartment (like a loser) and prepare himself better.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t an option. Feeling sick with guilt over lying to you, Peter ended up texting Ned and asking to actually hang out. Now, he was expected at Ned’s shortly and didn’t have time to hover by your door.
So there he stood, clutching onto your jacket for dear life as he nervously knocked on the door.
“Hey, Peter,” you opened the door with a smile. “Thank you so much for dropping it off.”
“Oh, it’s no problem at all, really.” Peter handed the jacket to you, desperately trying to think of anything he could say to keep the conversation going. “How do you think we did on the assignment?”
“Honestly, no clue,” you shrugged with a small laugh. “Could’ve been better, but surely we weren’t that bad.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard babies like freezers.”
Squinting, you cocked your head, looking as if you were trying very hard not to burst out laughing in his face.
“Joke,” Peter weakly mumbled.
He was not a smooth man.
“Right,” you grinned. “Do you wanna come in? I know you have to meet Ned, so it doesn’t have to be for long.”
Peter could’ve cheered.
“Sure! Thanks, that’s so kind of you to offer.”
“Yeah, well, I feel a bit rude chatting in the doorway. Especially after you’ve come here to drop off my jacket.” You said as you ushered him inside.
“It’s no problem, really.”
“Do you want water or anything to drink?” You asked as you and Peter walked past the kitchen.
“Sure, water’s perfect, thanks.”
His inability to succeed in any social interaction with you never failed to astound Peter. I mean, perfect? Who described water that way?!
You slid a glass of water on the kitchen counter towards Peter’s direction.
“Thanks!”
“Of course, thank you for dropping my jacket off, you really didn’t have to.” You smiled, walking to sit at the barstools lined up by your kitchen counter.
“It’s no big deal,” Peter smiled, pausing before daring to breach the small talk with a deeper question. “I mean, we’re friends… right?”
He looked over to you sitting next to him, feeling as though his heart was in his throat at this point. Suddenly, you found yourself deeply interested in the countertop, not brave enough to look him in the eyes.
“Friends?” You repeated, slightly frowning.
Peter stilled, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a deep breath.
Maybe he was presumptuous to have assumed you guys were friends. After all, it had only been four days. And you didn’t even like him at the start. He shouldn’t be so surprised that you guys might not be friends.
“I mean, acquaintances or close or… I dunno,” Peter hung his head in shame. “We are something, aren’t we?”
“Yeah, we are something,” you just about scoffed. “I just didn’t think friends were it.”
Suddenly, everything realisation struck and Peter felt dizzy.
Maybe you were disappointed to be just his friend.
He hadn’t thought that was possible. He was obviously far inferior to you. You were beautiful. Caring and kind – slightly mean sometimes, but it wasn’t like he didn’t like that. He had thought there was no way he could expect you to want anything more than friendship with him. He had already been set on the idea that he would have to build up to anything more than a friendship with you.
“What did you think it was then?” Peter asked, his voice small and his eyes wide.
“Do you kiss all your friends, Peter?”
Peter stilled. He stopped bouncing his legs, tapping his fingers, and blinking rapidly. He didn’t dare move. So you were acknowledging the kiss. Part of him was convinced that the two of you would just ignore it forever.
“No, I don’t.”
“Who do you kiss like that then?” You asked, finally turning your head to face him.
“Only you.”
“So what, we’re not friends, we’re not… dating, we’re just some weird third option?” You frowned.
“I don’t know – I didn’t think so,” Peter flusteredly huffed. “I don’t want us to be that.”
“What do you want us to be then?” You asked, your stare unwavering.
Peter looked into your eyes, surprised to find that rather than mad, you seemed genuinely confused. You were seeking an answer just like he was. You were seeking more.
“I don’t know,” Peter forced the words out, scared he might be reading everything completely wrong. “More than friends.”
To his surprise, you began to laugh.
“Peter, you’re kidding.”
“What?” Peter gaped, shocked that you would tell him to open up and then laugh right in his face.
“You came in here talking about friendship and acquantainces but you want to be more than friends?”
“Well– I wasn’t sure how you’d react,” Peter protested, eyeing you nervously.
“So, if I hadn’t said anything, you would’ve just ignored anything that happened last night and acted like my friend?”
“If that’s what you wanted.”
“Well, it’s not what I want, Peter.” You shook your head.
“So we’re more than friends?”
“Are you asking me out?”
“I don’t know what I’m doing.” Peter winced.
“It’s fine, Peter.”
“Okay, so we are more than friends?” Peter clarified with an eager smile.
“Sounds like it,” you replied with a teasing smirk.
Peter could be unbelievably awkward sometimes.
“Should we go on a date then?”
“That would be nice.”
“Cool,” Peter grinned, nodding his head. “I’ll plan something then. And text you. Or tell you about it next time I see you.”
“Sounds good, Pete,” you returned his smile, feeling better now that the awkward tension had faded between you two. “I’m sorry for laughing at you.”
“Right in my face!” Peter shook his head.
“I’m sorry! The whole situation was just ridiculous!” You grinned. “You strutted in here talking about friendship, then started talking about how you wanted more.”
“I don’t strut.” Peter protested, trying to frown but sorely failing to wipe the smile off his face.
“Well, whatever it was, you sure seemed fine claiming the title of being my friend.”
“I would’ve worked my way up.”
“Right.”
“I would’ve!”
“Okay, Peter, if you say so.”
˚✶⋆. .⋆✶˚
peter tag list: @hoax-of-light @lucy-loaf
series tag list: @wondergotham @oliverstarksbae @leysol @keilahhhsstuff @viannasthings @sela-gypsy @withgreatpowercomesgreatfics @poorlittlerichgirll @kat-887
a/n: 24 drafts later and this series is finisheddd!! thank you again for all the love and support!! if anyone wants to be added to my other taglist, just lmk!!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
summary: it’s day three of being partnered with peter to care for a fake baby for class, and things haven’t felt weirder between the two of you. that is, until you unexpectedly find an injured peter with no one else there to help him.
themes: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, enemies (???) to lovers
warnings: suggestive themes, description of injury
word count: 7k
song: kisses of fire by abba but i highly recommend starting it around when you reach the pink paragraph breaker
masterlist link: here!
series links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4
For the first time ever, Peter was on time.
At 10:00 am on the dot, you heard a knock on the door and the faint, muffled sound of crying. You had not missed that robotic cry.
You hovered by the door, trying to work up the courage to face Peter. Somehow, things between you and Peter were worse than when you hated him. At least then, you were so caught up on hating him that you didn’t care what he thought of you.
Now, you felt strangely compelled to make him like you.
Sure, he claimed to like you, but you weren’t too sure that was the truth. Peter was nice. He was polite and friendly to everyone. Everyone. Which was part of the reason why you had been so sure he might’ve secretly shared your hatred.
Not only were you now completely uncertain of how he felt about you, but you also felt completely uncertain about how you felt towards him.
All you knew was that you didn’t hate him, not anymore at least. You thought you liked him, you imagined that the two of you could be friends, even hang out with one another outside of this dumb babysitting project.
But Peter wasn’t acting like he saw this as a possibility.
He looked defeated when he left your apartment, and he hadn’t messaged you anything more than ‘Omw’ about ten minutes ago. And in comparison to the messages he sent you on Friday night, one certainly showed a lot more kindness than the other.
You shook your head. This spiralling needed to stop.
You and Peter just had to last until Monday morning. You didn’t need to be friends or civil with one another or anything of the sort. You just had to hand the baby back to the teacher, and from then on, you could just ignore one another for the rest of your life.
You hoped that wasn’t what Peter wanted.
It definitely wasn’t what you wanted.
And there you were going right back to spiralling.
Sick of overthinking and certain that Peter must be wondering why you took so long to answer the door, you opened the door with a forced smile.
“Hey, Peter.”
“Hey,” Peter gave you a tight smile. “Sorry, I did try making her happy before coming here, but she won’t stop crying.”
“That’s fine, part of the assignment, I guess,” you shrugged, taking the doll from his arms.
Caring for the baby together was also part of the assignment, but you didn’t dare say that.
“And here’s the rest of the stuff.” Peter handed you a small plastic bag filled with the baby’s limited supplies.
“Thanks.”
“Yeah, of course.” Peter nodded, nervously shuffling his feet and not quite meeting your eyes. “Alright, I guess I’ll get going then.”
“Are you still fine taking her for the night?” You asked.
“Oh, yeah, of course.”
“I can just drop her off whenever you’d prefer,” you offered.
“Oh, thanks,” Peter frowned to himself.
He couldn’t have you wandering around to his apartment in the dark, so he knew he’d have to cut his patrol off early tonight.
“Would 7:00 pm be too late?” He asked, before quickly adding, “It’s alright if you can’t. I’ll understand, of course.”
“No, no, that’d be fine.” You shook your head dismissively. “I’ll see you tonight then.”
“Yeah, sure.” Peter gave you another tight-lipped smile. “Bye.”
And before you even had a chance to say bye to his face, he had already turned around and started speed walking away.
You shut your door with a frown.
All you wanted was for this assignment to be over.
˚✶⋆. .⋆✶˚
‘hey, im at urs now’
You clicked send, hovering hesitantly by Peter’s apartment door. You weren’t sure if you should knock on his door or not. You weren’t entirely sure who Peter lived with, and you were a bit nervous about who could answer the door if not him.
After a couple of minutes, your patience began to wear, and before you could knock on his door, the door swung open.
To your surprise, rather than finding Peter standing in front of you, you were met with an unfamiliar face.
“Hi, I’m May,” she spoke with a kind smile, soft brown eyes looking slightly surprised to see you at the door. “Peter’s Aunt.”
So this was May.
“Oh, hi i’m Y/n, I was just waiting for Peter,” you explained. “We’re partnered up fo-”
“For the babysitting assignment,” she nodded, finishing your sentence. “Peter’s just inside, you can go in and make yourself at home.”
“Thanks,” you smiled.
“I’m just heading to a charity event, it shouldn’t be too long,” she said as she started zipping the purse she was clutching.
“Oh, that sounds nice.”
“Yeah, yeah, should be,” May nodded, still struggling with the zip. “Will be a lot of long speeches, but should be nice to see a few familiar faces.”
“Right,” you smiled again.
You felt a bit awkward and partially hoped that Peter would come and collect you. As nice as May seemed, you could tell that your part of the conversation sounded stilted and hesitant.
“Anyway, Peter’s room is just down the hallway, you’ll spot it easily,” she ushered you inside, waving her hand in the general direction behind her.
“Alright, that’s me off,” she said with a smile as she finally zipped her bag up.
“Have a nice time,” you said as May made her way out.
“Thank you,” she spoke, waving to you before gently shutting the door behind her.
With May gone, you realised how eerily quiet the apartment was. The only thing that you could hear was the faint sound of clattering coming from the direction of Peter’s room.
Following the sound, you tentatively approached what you suspected to be Peter’s room and knocked. The sound of rattling stopped, and you heard a small voice call out.
“May?”
“Uh, no… It’s Y/n, May let me in.”
“Y/n?” Peter repeated, sounding unsure.
“Uh, yeah. For the… group assignment?” You frowned to yourself.
He knew you were coming at this time, and he knew why you were, so you weren’t sure why he sounded so confused.
“Oh, oh! Right.” his eyes widened behind the closed door.
Surely it wasn’t time for you to come already.
“Uh, I’ll just be a second!” He called out
Hurriedly, he looked around the room in a desperate attempt to find himself some sort of clothes to change into. Despite just showering, the clothes he had changed into were already smeared with the blood still seeping out from his cuts. The blood was working as a glue, making his shirt uncomfortably stick to his skin and wounds. He winced as he tried to peel it away from him.
“Alright,” you said with an uncertain frown at the door.
After the brief moment of silence, the sound of doors slamming and objects falling returned. You rolled your eyes. Somehow, he still managed to be late despite already being at the meeting place.
Unbeknownst to you, Peter was desperately scrambling to try and find clothes that could cover his body and the injuries laid spread across his skin. Giving up on prying the shirt away, he threw a loose hoodie over his shirt and hastily sprayed himself with deodorant and cologne. Grabbing a tin of mints, he threw a couple in his mouth and turned to the mirror. He winced to himself.
An angry red bruise, lined with a slender cut covered in dried blood, decorated his cheek. He groaned. That wouldn’t be easy to cover up. He tried to flick his hair so it could cover his face, but his hair was far too short and only covered the slightest bit of the injury.
With nothing else to do, Peter resorted to flicking the light switch so the gash could be concealed in the darkness.
He shook his shoulders, trying to get a hold of himself. The fight was done. The arrests were made. He survived. All was well.
He had been hurt fighting before; this wasn’t new. Usually, he could get cleaned up by the medics with the Avengers, or sometimes even by May. It was never usually himself bandaging himself up. At least, not when it was this bad. But he could do it.
And with that, he pulled the hood over his head and swung the door open, trying to not to go too close to you.
“Hey- hi, what’s up?” His voice was garbled from the mints, and he awkwardly coughed in an attempt to avoid choking on them.
“Uhh, I’m just trying to pick the baby up for the assignment, remember?” You squinted at his room curiously. “Are you just hanging out in your room in the dark?”
“Well, yeah… I was uh… napping.”
“Loud napper.” You raised your eyebrow.
“What?”
“Heard a lot of noises coming from your room before,” you stared at him suspiciously.
“That’s just… street noises,” he hesitantly forced out, unsure of what else to say.
“Alright, then.”
You squinted, your eyes beginning to adjust to the darkness that he was still submerged in. Your eyes caught on his cheek. Something was glistening in the sliver of light peeking out from the hallway. You frowned and slightly stepped towards him.
Peter stepped back, very nearly flinching away from you.
“Is that a cut?” You asked, leaning back with a frown.
“What? No, no, it’s nothing.”
You sceptically eyed him, Peter looking away as he tried to think of an excuse.
“Just a shadow.” He said with an unconvincing nod.
You reached forward, stepping towards him. This time, Peter stayed still, getting the feeling that you were figuring out was inevitable.
Closer now, you realised the start of a cut was lined on Peter’s cheek and ran underneath the hoodie. Gently pushing his hood down, you inhaled sharply when you found the cut was much longer than you anticipated, and seemed to be surrounded by a bruise blooming on Peter’s skin.
“What happened?” You blinked your eyes in bewilderment.
Peter didn’t seem the type to get into fist fights. There was a real chance he was beaten up, though. Peter was a bit of a loser. You flicked the light switch and the two of you squinted at the harshness of the light. Taking in the sight all over again, you looked into his eyes.
“What happened, Peter?” You repeated slowly, your voice softer than before.
“Really, nothing happened, I just banged it on a cabinet,” Peter shrugged, his eyes fixed on your perplexed expression.
You frowned doubtfully, your eyes scanning his frame until your eyes caught on a small dark spot beginning to flower and bloom by the hem of his jumper. He followed your line of sight and sighed, realising he should’ve worn darker clothes.
“Y/n, please,” Peter whispered, his voice soft and slightly pained.
He wasn’t sure what exactly he was pleading for; whether it was for you to stop asking questions he couldn’t answer, or if it was for you only to look, if you could manage not to judge him.
Your hand went to the hem of his jumper, looking up at him with uncertain eyes, awaiting his approval. He gave you a hesitant nod, just the slightest tilt of his head as if he feared what would happen next. Following his permission, you lifted the end of his hoodie and shirt just enough to reveal a large bruise coloured red and purple stretched across his abdomen.
Blood was dripping from three cuts scattered across him, and you realised there could only be more injuries hidden under his clothes.
“Peter,” you started, your voice impossibly quiet.
“I know,” Peter squeezed his eyes shut. “I know it’s bad.”
He stepped back and pressed his hand to his forehead in frustration before sitting down on the edge of his bed.
“How could this even happen?” You looked over to him in shock. “Seriously, Peter. This is more than just some clumsy accident.”
“It’s fine, really.” He gave you a meaningful stare, as if pleading with his eyes for you to believe him. “You don’t have to worry about this; this isn’t your problem.
“I could help,” you said as you walked towards him.
He looked up at you, his brown eyes worn with worry.
“It’s okay, I can handle it.”
You gave him a doubtful stare, slowly moving to sit beside him on the side of his bed. The side of your leg was gently pressed against his.
“Let me help, Peter.” You nudged his leg with yours, forcing his eyes to meet yours.
He heaved a sigh, weighed down and wounded with guilt.
“Look, the baby’s on the couch, May’s been watching her while I was… out,” Peter insisted, desperate not to trouble you with his problems. “You can just take her.”
“You want me to leave?” You bit the inside of your cheek.
Your words hung in the air for a moment, as if Peter was deciding the most polite way to tell you to fuck off.
You almost felt offended, but you worked your hardest to conceal it. After all, Peter had made it clear last time you saw him that he didn’t want to spend any more time with you than required.
Of course, Peter didn’t want you to leave at all. He wanted to bed you to stay with him – help him, distract him, hug him, anything. He didn’t want to be alone. And your company was his favourite.
At least, it was his favourite until he realised that you barely liked him and everything came crashing down. He couldn’t help but still want you, though.
Want you to stay, want you to like him, want you to love him.
“No.” He finally replied, shaking his head with his eyes glued to the floor in shame. “I don’t want you to leave, Y/n.”
He felt crazy. Desperate.
He couldn’t believe he had even dared to utter the words.
“Then, I’ll stay.”
“Thank you.”
“And, I’ll help you.” You added.
“With your…” You gave him a pointed look. “Injuries.”
“You really don’t have to,” Peter shook his head.
“Just let me help, Peter.” You sighed.
“Alright.” Peter offered you a small smile. “Thank you.”
“It’s really okay. I don’t mind.”
He desperately wanted to hug you.
“Okay,” you started, trying to figure out how to approach the situation. “Do you have like medical supplies or anything?”
“Yeah, I should have some stuff in the bathroom.”
“Alright, that should be good.”
The two of you stood up, and you trailed behind him as he led the way to the bathroom.
“It’s sort of cramped in here, sorry,” Peter bit his lip with an embarrassed frown.
“It’s okay, looks like a perfectly normal bathroom to me.”
And it was, the walls were lined with white tiles with blue swirls decorated across them and had one of those baths that had a showerhead built in. Underneath a small set of drawers was a sink facing the door. It had a small, rectangular mirror above it that showed you and Peter in the reflection. His face looked worn, exhausted and beaten in a way that made you feel a deep sense of pity.
“It’d just be in those drawers,” he said, pointing to beneath the sink.
You walked in and knelt to rifle through the drawers while Peter awkwardly sat at the edge of the bathtub. It didn’t take long for you to find the supplies you needed: a small, navy hand towel, disinfectant ointments, bandages and a few Band-Aids.
You placed the items on the sink’s counter and dragged a nearby footstool in front of Peter. Moving back to the sink, you quickly washed your hands before running the hand towel under the water.
“I think it’s actually supposed to be running water that you run injuries under, but I don’t really want to… bathe you,” you scrunched up your nose.
“It should be fine, I showered just before you got here.” Peter offered, ducking his head so you couldn’t see how red he got at you mentioning bathing him.
“That’s good then,” you said as you sat on the step stool in front of him. The seat levelled the two of you out so you were nearly the same height at this point.
“Hey,” you murmured, looking into his eyes. “I can’t really do anything if you keep all those layers on.”
“Oh, yeah, you’re right,” he looked taken aback. “I’ll… undress?”
You raised an eyebrow in his direction. Peter sure had a way of making things that could be normal into an incredibly awkward situation.
“Only if you don’t mind.”
“No, no, of course not,” Peter waved you off.
Hesitantly, he began to tug at his hoodie, bringing his shirt up with him. In a weak attempt to make him feel less awkward, you looked away and focused your attention on the floor.
He felt a bit self-conscious sitting there in front of you. It was embarrassing enough that he was shirtless, but he was also hyperaware of the various injuries littering his skin. He was sure the sight of his body, beaten and bruised, was not attractive to you in the slightest, and he felt annoyed that these were the circumstances for the first time you saw him shirtless.
Hesitantly, you looked up at him, your eyes flickering across his body. A pit formed in your stomach at the sight of his injuries. It still worried you how he possibly could have gotten himself so injured, but you knew he wasn’t about to admit anything anytime soon.
“Sorry,” Peter mumbled, catching the way your eyes couldn’t quite land on his body. “This is probably gross; you don’t have to help.”
“It’s not.” You shook your head, apprehensively bringing the towel up towards his body. “This might sting a bit.”
“That’s okay,” he replied.
To Peter’s surprise, you place one hand on his jaw, holding his head in place as you bring the towel to the cut on his cheekbone. Your faces were impossibly close; you could smell the lingering mintiness on Peter’s breath from the ones he had popped in his mouth before greeting you.
Your touch didn’t stay long, though, and you soon pulled away to clean the towel at the sink before returning to the stool in front of him.
You put your free hand on his shoulder to stabilise yourself and lightly tapped the cloth across his abdomen. He flinched under your touch; you could feel his shoulder muscles tensing where your left hand was leaning.
“I’m sorry,” you murmured, biting your lip. “I’m trying to be as gentle as possible.”
“It’s okay,” Peter shook his head as if your remark was unnecessary. “It doesn’t really hurt.”
You gave him a doubtful look but persisted, delicately squeezing the water from the towel so it could fall onto his skin and clear away the blood.
Feeling content that it was cleaned enough, you moved away from Peter to squeeze the blood clean from the towel. You ran it underwater again before going back to your stool in front of Peter.
There was another angry and jagged cut stretched across his chest, red blood seeping out. You placed your hand back on Peter’s right shoulder and leaned in closer so you were at a good angle.
You carefully pressed the towel back onto him, matching the red line across him. He hissed under his breath at your touch, and you squeezed your eyes shut.
“I’m sorry, I know it hurts,” you apologised, your thumb subconsciously rubbing against his shoulder.
“It’s fine, really,” Peter insisted.
He felt himself getting more and more flustered at the feeling of your thumb rubbing against his shoulder to the point that the pain was forgotten.
As you continued to clean any injury that produced blood, you gradually became closer and closer to Peter. The process of cleaning the cut, washing the towel, and then sitting back down quickly became familiar and more comfortable. Each time you went back to sit on your stool, you found yourself sitting closer to him than before. It reached the point he could feel your breath lightly against his chest, and he could sense each time you were nervous by the way your breath would still.
It all felt so… intimate.
Intimate in a way he would never have dared to dream of.
But now that he was experiencing it, he knew any dreams he could have had couldn’t possibly compare to this. Your touch was light and left his skin tingling each time you so much as brushed over his body. Each time you left to clean the towel, his shoulder felt cold and bare. Like he was missing a limb or a lung, and he wasn’t sure how to function until it returned.
When you were pretty sure each cut had been cleaned (including the ones he had hidden under his tracksuit pants), you leaned back and looked into his brown eyes.
“Any I missed?” You asked.
With the way you were looking at him, Peter felt like the air had been completely sucked out of his lungs. You were so close, and your eyes were staring at him so intently, for a moment, he was almost rendered speechless.
“I think you got everything,” he whispered.
“Okay, not too painful?” You raised your eyebrows.
“No, not at all.”
“That’s good.” You smiled, grabbing a spare towel nearby that you could use to dry the water away. “I’ve gotta sterilise them, this isn’t meant to hurt you, but there’s a chance, sorry.”
“It’s fine, I can handle it.” Peter insisted, his voice softer than his eyes trained on you.
When you finished drying his cuts, you reached for the nearby tube of Betadine. Squeezing a small bit on a cotton ball, you began applying it to the wound on his chest. After covering the cut, you reached for a nearby plaster. It was white and a larger one than the typical Band-Aids you’d tend to see. This, of course, was necessary given the cut was stretched across half his chest.
As with the washing, you quickly fell into a pattern with the sterilising. The only thing that wasn’t following a pattern was how you touched Peter in comfort.
With the washing, your hand was always on his shoulder. But you appeared more comfortable now, and instead, he’d have the pleasure of guessing where your hand would fall on him.
Sometimes it was his thigh, sometimes his forearm, sometimes it would even be his shoulder, like before.
He loved it.
He lived for it.
He couldn’t believe he had gone so long without it.
He felt so addicted to the butterflies that swarmed his stomach when you touched his skin that he felt disappointed when you leaned back and said you were nearly done.
“Really?” He asked.
“Yeah, I think there’s only one left. It’s a good thing you don’t need stitches.” You murmured, dabbing another cotton ball coated in Betadine on the cut on his forearm. “I would not be good at giving you stitches.”
You held his arm in your hand, your hands nearly holding onto one another. You tried not to take any notice of it – of how right it felt – but it was nearly impossible to ignore. You wondered if he thought of it that way as well. As perfect and right. Inevitable.
Throwing the cotton ball onto the bin near you, you reached for the pre-cut bandage to wrap around his arm. Which you neatly pinned together with a safety pin.
“Done,” you spoke, looking up to face Peter.
Your faces were close. Too close. As if something was going to happen that shouldn’t. Your breath hitched as Peter looked into your eyes, his own flickering from between your eyes to your lips.
Something that definitely shouldn’t happen.
It couldn’t.
This was Peter.
Peter, whom you didn’t even like as a friend until yesterday.
Yet here you were, breathing in the soft scent of his apple shampoo and holding his arm as you desperately hoped for him to lean in. Just a little bit more.
How desperately he wanted to.
And he might’ve if the baby hadn’t started to cry and pulled the two of you out of that moment.
With a shy laugh, you pulled away.
“It’s like she knew we were done,” you grinned as you pulled away. “I can go help her; it is my turn after all.”
“It’s okay, I can handle it,” Peter offered, reaching for your arm so he could stop you from walking out the door. “It’s a partner assignment anyway; there shouldn’t be turns.”
“You do remember that taking turns was your idea, right?” You looked at him with a bemused expression.
“Well, yes,” Peter spluttered, turning slightly red. “It was a dumb idea for… practicality.”
You hummed in response. You didn’t believe him, of course, it was because you had said you didn’t like him, and he rightfully stopped wanting to spend time with you. You really couldn’t blame him for that one.
“Well, I can tidy this stuff up in the meantime,” you offered, gesturing to the supplies spread across the counter.
“Thank you, that would be great,” Peter smiled as he pulled his shirt back on and turned to leave. “I’ll be quick.”
˚✶⋆. .⋆✶˚
It didn’t take long for you to finish clearing up the bathroom, and Peter was quick to feed the baby, who soon after stopped crying. Now, the baby was sitting back on the couch of Peter’s living room, close enough to his room that if it cried, the two of you could hear.
The two of you had gone back into his bedroom, Peter clicking the door behind him. Yet again, the two of you were sitting side-by-side on the edge of his bed, Peter nervously trying to think of something to say. He wasn’t ready for you to leave yet.
“Thank you for helping,” he coughed slightly.
“Of course, Peter,” you said with a smile.
“No, it really means a lot to me,” he shyly insisted. “Not a lot of people would do this for me.”
His eyebrows were knitted, and his eyes on you were unwavering. You weren’t sure how to respond. Part of you wanted to tell him you’d do anything for him because this ridiculous assignment had actually made you grow quite fond of him. You couldn’t say that, though. That would be too much; he would probably never want to see you again if you came on that strongly.
“Maybe you should surround yourself with better people,” you paused. “You might want to get changed, you’ve got blood on your shirt and hoodie.”
“Oh, right, yeah. That’s a good point,” Peter said with a sheepish grin, looking down at the small marks of dried blood on his shirt.
Peter started sifting through his closet, his fingers slightly shaky with nerves. The two of you were alone. You were in his room. On his bed. Just like he had always wanted.
And on top of that, you were being nice.
He was so distracted thinking about how such a miracle occured he completely forgot that you were sitting right behind him as he pulled his old pants off to get changed.
This caught you unbelievably off guard.
Especially considering this was the boy who had just recently been so awkward about taking his shirt off. The shock (and slight attraction) was replaced with concern when he pulled his shirt off, and you caught sight of the bruises spread across his back. He was covered in red and angry marks, dipping into the curves of his muscles. He was quick to cover himself with the grey shirt that he pulled over himself before turning around to find you staring at him intently.
“Sorry,” you said, turning your head down to the floor in shame.
Peter winced, realising he definitely should have gotten changed without you there.
“Oh, no, don’t be. I’m sorry,” he mumbled ashamedly, his cheeks burning as he went back over to you.
“It’s fine,” you waved him off, taking a breath as you tried to recollect yourself.
With both of you sitting next to one another again, both of you were silently wondering where to go from here. While he desperately tried to come up with any reason to convince you not to leave, you were still hung up on the mass of damage his body had been subject to.
“Does it hurt?” You finally asked, turning to face him with curious eyes. “The cuts and bruises ‘nd stuff, I mean.”
“It’s not too bad.”
“Your back looks really painful, Peter.”
“It’s alright.” Peter shrugged with an unconvincing smile.
“Should I be worried, Peter?” You turned around to properly face him, pulling your legs into a criss-cross position that Peter quickly mimicked.
“No, no,” he said, his voice rising an octave. “I’m fine, Y/n, really.”
Looking at the bruises and bandages covering his skin, you raised your eyebrows with a doubtful frown. Clearly, you weren’t convinced.
“It’s okay,” Peter put his hand on your knee comfortingly. “I promise.”
You looked up at Peter’s face, his beautiful eyes were wide and meaningful, as if he was desperate for you to believe him. He looked so soft under the warm, slightly orange lighting of his room. His caramel-coloured hair was tussled, and his clothing hung loosely on him. The grey shirt he wore was clearly well-washed, the colour slightly fading in different parts.
The combination of his hand resting on your knee and his eyes fixed on you felt overpowering in the best way possible.
Tranquillity wrapped around the two of you like a blanket fresh from the dryer – familiar and warm. He almost didn’t trust himself to speak, fearful that he might break whatever this moment was.
“You’re a good person, Peter,” you murmured in a voice as soft as honey, gently seeping into the room’s serenity. “I’m really sorry I’ve been so mean to you.”
“You’re not mean at all,” Peter shook his head, trying to keep his voice as quiet as yours. “You’re so kind.”
“I have not been kind to you,” you almost laughed at the idea. “I’ve been awful.”
“Not true,” Peter squeezed your knee gently. “You’ve already apologised, anyway.”
“I know, but I was so unfair to you.” You looked down, shaking your head slightly. “I never gave you a real chance.”
Peter hesitated.
“What do you think of me now that you’ve given me a chance?”
The words hung in the air for a moment, and Peter couldn’t bring himself to breathe – far too nervous in anticipation of your answer.
“You’re a lot…” You paused as you tried to find the right word. “kinder than I ever could have thought. Funnier too.”
A smile spread across his face, and Peter let out a relieved breath. The words were so simple yet so meaningful.
“You think I’m funny?”
“Of course,” you nodded with a smile.
“I don’t think anyone thinks of me as funny,” Peter admitted.
“I don’t mind being the first.”
Peter felt like he could combust with happiness. You liked him. You thought he was kind and funny.
“I think you’re funny as well,” Peter mumbled. “Kind too.”
“I don’t think so, but thank you.” You scrunched your nose slightly.
“What? How could you not?”
You shrugged.
“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” Peter urged.
“Thank you.” You said with a bashful smile.
“Of course.”
The sight of you sitting on his bed with such a soft smile was unbelievably enticing. He had never felt so privileged as seeing you now.
Your eyes caught on the cut that ran over his cheek. The bleeding had stopped long ago, but the pain it was no doubt bringing him made your stomach churn with sympathy.
“What?” Peter asked with a concerned frown, sensing the small change in your expression. “What’s wrong?”
You moved in closer, reaching your hand out to cup his face so you could lightly run your thumb on the bruised skin under the cut.
“I don’t know what situation you were in that caused this, but you’ve gotta try very hard in the future to avoid it,” you spoke, eyes fixed on him.
Both of your knees were overlapping his, and your thumb felt like electricity sparking on his skin in an unbelievably perfect way. Peter could barely get himself to breathe.
He forced his eyes to meet yours, and suddenly something clicked, and everything stilled. Your thumb stopped stroking his cheek, and neither of you dared to so much as blink.
The two of you were close.
Unbelievably close.
Far too close for either of you to keep fooling yourselves into believing it was platonic.
Nothing about the entire night had been platonic.
And with that realisation in mind, Peter did something he never thought he would ever have the confidence to do. He gently dipped his head and pressed his lips onto yours.
The kiss was ever so soft but unbelievably tantalising. It was like up until now, the world had been tilted on its axis, and only just now was it brought upright.
He wrapped his arms around your waist, gently moving you closer towards him until your legs were completely resting over his. You could faintly feel his hands rhythmically moving against your back. All he could focus on was the feeling of you against him. Nothing had ever felt so right.
When you pulled away, you found yourself engulfed in a cloud of blissful dizziness. Your lips were buzzing, and the sight of Peter’s ruffled hair and pink lips was shockingly entrancing.
Peter desperately searched for something to say, but the sight of you in front of him made it hard to think of anything coherent.
Unsure of what to say, Peter blinked rapidly.
“Should we–,” Peter cleared his throat, the tips of his ears tingeing with pink with embarassment “Maybe we should go check on the baby. See if it wants anything”
“Sure,” you nodded slowly, still feeling slightly dazed.
The two of you pulled away and moved off the bed, walking from his room and into the living room. Despite Peter’s desperate prayers for the baby to be wailing so the two of you had something to do, the baby lay still on the couch just like how you’d left it.
“Guess it’s fine then,” Peter scratched the back of his head with an embarrassed grimace.
“Guess so.”
Peter awkwardly shuffled, his face tinted red and his fingers fiddling as he desperately tried to think of something to say.
“I guess I should probably head home,” you said with a sigh.
“Oh, yeah, okay. If you’d like,” Peter pursed his lips, feeling slightly disappointed.
“I can walk you home if you’d like.” He added on, suddenly perking up.
“What? I couldn’t ask you to do that?” You shook your head “Thank you, though.”
“It’s pitch black, it’s not safe for you to walk home alone,” Peter insisted.
“But then you’ll have to walk back alone.”
“I do that all the time when I come back from Ned’s house,” Peter lied.
He did actually go out at night alone, only it was usually swinging back from monitoring for a fight.
“Alright, well, it’s your choice, Peter,” you shrugged as you went to pick the baby up from the couch.
Suddenly possessed with the perfect idea to charm you, Peter reached out for your arm to stop you.
“You don’t have to take her; I can have her for the night.”
You cocked your head in bewilderment.
“What? That’s crazy, you just had her.”
“I don’t mind. It’ll be bad walking at night with her crying anyway – it’ll…” Peter paused to think. “Alert people that we’re there. Very dangerous.”
You frowned at him doubtfully.
“Really, it’s a matter of my safety as well,” Peter explained as he held his hand on the small of your back and walked you to the front door. “Hard to lurk in the shadows from some assaulters on the street with a crying baby screaming for everyone to hear.”
Based on the confused look on your face, Peter was pretty sure his attempt at a romantic gesture was not doing a whole lot to help him with you. But it was too late now; he had already made a fool of himself, and the two of you were already out the door.
“Alright, thanks, Pete.”
“Of course!” Peter squeaked.
Pete.
The nickname sounded so perfect coming from you.
He wanted to hear you say it again and again. It was something he couldn’t possibly get sick of.
He smiled to himself, shoving his hands in his pockets as the two of you walked to the elevator.
“So, do you hang out with Ned a lot after school then?” You asked, walking into the elevator and pressing the button for the ground floor.
“Yeah, sometimes, the internship gets in the way a bit, though,” Peter shrugged.
“Ah, right – your mysterious internship.
“Wha-?” Peter spluttered, scrunching his face up with an awkward and very forced laugh. “What’s so mysterious about it?”
“The entire thing,” you laughed.
The elevator pinged, and the doors opened, the two of you walking out to the lobby.
“The entire thing?” Peter repeated.
“I mean, what type of internship is that demanding? It borders on being unethical,” you reasoned as the two of you walked through the exit.
“No, no,” Peter nervously waved you off. “Not unethical.”
“Not normal at the least.”
Peter frowned to himself; his cover-up story of an internship might not have been the best.
“Does Stark even know how it’s been affecting your school?” You asked. “Or how it’s affected your friendships in the past?”
“Of course not, I wouldn’t want to complain to him.”
“You’d think he’d expect it, though. Given that he has you coming in in the middle of a school day.” You shrugged, then turned to Peter suspiciously. “That is, if you actually are doing internship stuff when you’re out of school.”
Peter almost tripped over.
“Where else would I be?” He asked, trying to seem casual (which wasn’t easy considering the high-pitched tone he was speaking in).
“Dunno, Peter,” you shrugged, lightly kicking a rock that was lying on the path in front of you. “You’re as mysterious as your internship.”
“You think I’m mysterious?”
Peter wasn’t sure if he should be offended that you were seemingly making up conspiracies about him, or if he should be flattered that you noticed him enough to sense the inconsistencies in his stories.
“Anyone who misses as much school as you without a very good explanation is gonna be mysterious,” you mused.
The two of you turned a corner. You were on your street now, which you were grateful for, given the cold night’s wind was beginning to hit you harder than you had anticipated.
“I have an explanation. A good explanation at that.”
“Sure, Pete.”
“I do.”
You hummed in response, not entirely convinced, but you knew pushing it would only make Peter spew some bullshit lie about how ‘the internship is really demanding’ or that ‘he gets sick easily’.
“How are you feeling?” You instead asked, gently nudging his arm with yours.
“About the internship?” Peter frowned.
“No,” you rolled your eyes with a laugh. “With all your injuries.”
“Oh, right,” Peter hated how dumb he came off sometimes. “They’re fine, nothing too bad.”
“That’s good,” you nodded, before faltering in your step and turning to him. “It’s not from walking home at night alone, is it?”
“No, no,” he shook his head firmly. “Just… other stuff.”
Well, that was relieving at the very least. You would’ve hated to know you were about to shove him into the situation that got him brutalised just a few hours ago.
“Please, be careful, Peter.”
The two of you had arrived at the front of your lobby, and you paused to swipe your key card to enter the building. You were half expecting Peter to bid you farewell here, but he seemed eager to walk you right to your front door.
“I am careful,” Peter assured you with a soft nudge as the two of you walked to the nearby staircase.
“If this is what happens when you’re careful, you need to reconsider whatever part of your life that entices this,” you said, the two of you walking up the few stairs to reach your level.
“Yeah,” Peter bit the inside of his cheek. “I know.”
“I’m sorry, I’m not trying to lecture you,” you said, the two of you finally reaching your level and stepping out of the staircase to walk down your hallway. “It’s just… worrying.”
He didn’t like the idea of you feeling worried at all. But, he had to admit the thought of you worrying over him (of all people) made him feel a little bit flattered.
“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” he smiled at you, the two of you stilling as you finally reached the door of your apartment.
“If you’re sure. You can always talk to me or come to me if you need anything, though, Pete.”
“Thank you,” Peter beamed. “Same for you, of course.”
“Thanks. And thank you for walking me back.”
“It’s not a problem,” Peter said, slightly rocking back and forth on his heels. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Yeah, alright, I’ll see you in the morning,” you smiled, pushing and turning the keys in your lock.
“Bye,” Peter waved to you as you stepped into your apartment.
“Bye, Peter,” you said, returning his wave before gently shutting the door.
˚✶⋆. .⋆✶˚
part 4: click here!
a/n: part 4 should come out in a couple of days, and that’ll be the end of this short series! thank you for all the love you have given the first two parts <3
tag list: @hoax-of-light @lucy-loaf @wondergotham @oliverstarksbae @leysol @keilahhhsstuff @kat-877 @viannasthings
summary: 50% of your grade depends on your ability to co-parent a fake baby with peter, whom you hate. but as the day progresses, you’re starting to feel less sure about your initial perception of him.
themes: slight angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, except peter never views you as an enemy
word count: 4.7k
masterlist link: here!
series links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4
You had spent most of last night feeling conflicted.
On one hand, you stood by your decision not to see Peter again that night. It served him right for leaving you stuck handling the stupid baby alone.
But on the other hand, seeing his message saying he was coming made you feel incredibly cruel, and your heart twinged with guilt. He seemed genuinely nice, other than his complete disregard for helping you with the assignment.
And maybe you could have understood if he was honest with you about where he was going, but each time his go-to excuse was that Stark needed him, which you were pretty sure was not true.
You had gone to sleep deciding that while you stood by your decision, you’d say a casual apology to him the next day. Nothing more.
The time was now 10:55am, five minutes before Peter was supposed to arrive.
You felt unsure of what to do while you waited for Peter, unable to relax in anticipation of his arrival and possible frustration with you. You had already set up a glass of icy cold water on a coaster neatly placed on your coffee table with a chocolate-chip cookie sitting beside it.
While you told yourself it was just an effort to be a good host, you knew if you hadn’t just about stood him up last night, you wouldn’t have bothered doing anything at all.
Deciding to watch TV to distract yourself, you sat back on the couch as you waited for Peter.
˚✶⋆. .⋆✶˚
It shouldn’t have surprised you when Peter didn’t arrive.
He never seemed to be where he was meant to be.
Any pity you had felt last night was long gone, replaced with frustration. Peter had some nerve treating you like this. The time was now 12:00 pm, and you had officially given up. You cleared his glass and threw his cookie in the trash.
You wondered if this was how he had felt last night.
You weren’t sure why you were so bothered that he hadn’t shown up. He was stuck with the baby, not you. So really, you were getting off easy. But there was something about the idea of Peter preferring to be stuck with a whiny robot than spending time with you that hurt. Then you realised this might not be the case at all. For all you knew, he had stuck the baby at your door just like you had done to him last night.
Groaning at your naivety, you trudged over to your front door. Undoing the lock and swinging it open, you recoiled with surprise.
Instead of the little doll sitting waiting at the door, there was a very flustered Peter Parker staring straight at you with an open mouth.
“Oh, hi,” Peter breathed, seemingly caught off guard. “I didn’t realise you could hear me.”
Obviously, you hadn’t heard him, but you weren’t about to admit you were looking to see if he left the stupid doll on your doorstep just in case this led to a confrontation about your move last night.
“You’re quite loud,” you deadpanned.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
There was a pause, and Peter looked at you with guilty eyes.
“You’re late,” you spoke, eyes trained on him in distaste.
“I know, I overslept,” Peter bit his lip.
“That thing actually kept quiet enough for you to sleep?” You looked at him doubtfully.
“Yeah, no, not really. Spent most of the night feeding her and rocking her,” Peter admitted. “She’s quiet now, though.”
“I can tell,” you shot him a condescending look. “Are you coming in?”
“Oh, right, thank you,” Peter nodded.
He stepped through the doorway and gave you a small smile, the baby awkwardly tucked in his arms.
“I’m sorry for leaving so abruptly last night,” Peter said, scrunching his face up.
“Thanks, but I really don’t need your lousy apology,” you glared at him.
“It wasn’t fair of me, I know,” Peter shook his head. “I’ll be really on top of it today. I’ll feed her and rock her and change her and everything.”
“I’m really sorry.” He added.
Sounding earnest and ashamed enough for you, you decided to give him another (very hesitant) chance.
“It’s fine, Peter,” you begrudgingly sighed.
Feeling unsure of where to go from here, Peter bit the inside of his cheeks and shoved his hands in his pockets.
“I’ve got your clothes from yesterday,” Peter suddenly spoke, going to fetch his backpack from the front door.
“I didn’t really need them that urgently.”
“Well, I figured just in case you did, I’d bring them,” Peter said as he came back into the room holding the folded clothes. “They’re washed, don’t worry.”
“Thanks,” you offered, taking the clothes from his hands.
“So how was Stark?” You asked after a beat of silence, unsure of what else to say.
“Fine, busy, I guess.” Peter shrugged.
“He sure keeps you on your toes, huh?” You asked with a pointed stare.
“Yep,” Peter nodded, feeling guilty that Stark was getting the blame over the villains he was stuck fighting.
He forced himself to remember his vow to make it up to you from last night. He was still desperate to impress you, and you certainly looked quite annoyed with him.
“I like your shirt,” Peter mumbled.
“Pardon?” You looked at him with confusion.
“Err, your shirt… it’s nice,” he clarified, looking at you with wide eyes.
“Oh, thanks,” you nodded, feeling very awkward.
Before Peter could give you another poorly-delivered compliment, the baby started crying. You groaned; you had not missed that sound overnight.
“Do you think she’s tired?” Peter asked with a confused frown. “I had to change her like three times today already.”
He was awkwardly rocking the baby from side to side, as if trying to lull it to sleep.
“Maybe hungry?” you suggested, looking at the toy uncertainly. “Let’s just feed her.”
“Okay, yeah, good idea,” Peter nodded. “I’ve got her bottle in my bag, could you hold her for a second?”
“Yeah, sure,” you agreed, taking the crying baby from his hands so he could fetch the bottle.
Holding the baby felt a bit odd. Having to treat the toy like it was human made you feel a bit like a six-year old child, which you didn’t love. It was bad enough that you had to be partnered with Peter.
“I can fill it up,” Peter offered, walking back into the room with the bottle in hand.
“Thanks,” you replied, having to speak louder so he could hear you over the baby’s incessant crying.
You followed him to the kitchen, waiting at the counter while he filled the bottle up at the sink.
“Here, could you pass her to me?” Peter asked as he screwed the lid back on the bottle.
“Alright, catch.”
“What?” Peter asked with a confused frown, looking up to face you right as you lightly tossed the baby in his direction.
He caught the baby with one hand, and with a surprising amount of ease, but his facial expression portrayed how bewildered he was.
“You can’t just throw a baby, Y/n!” Peter looked at you with shock. “This is our grade, right here!”
“It’s not like it’s a real baby,” You rolled your eyes at his dramatics. “Anyway, you’re literally like three feet away from me, I knew you were gonna catch it.”
“Well, I might not have.”
“Well, you did.”
Peter frowned in defeat, turning his head to look at the doll ‘drinking’ the water.
Finally, the bothersome cries stopped, and a blissful silence fell across the room. This silence made Peter wildly aware that he was in a room alone with you, and he still hadn’t done anything to impress you.
He was pretty sure he had annoyed you when he lectured you for throwing the toy. He tried to sneakily look up at you to see what you were doing. He found you were staring down at the bench with what looked to be an expression of immense boredom. He winced with frustration. He was doing an awful job at seducing you.
Struck with an idea motivated by pure desperation, he looked up to you and called out, “Catch,” before hurling the baby at you.
You caught the baby (barely) and looked up to him with a surprised laugh.
“Dude, this is our gradeee right here,” you mocked, referencing his previous comment.
“I do not sound like that,” Peter frowned.
“Yeah,” you nodded, throwing the baby back to Peter. “You do.”
“Pshhh- do not,” Peter scoffed, chucking the baby in your direction.
“You so do,” you laughed, catching the toy in your arms. “Every time I hear you talking to Ned, you sound all whiney and offended.”
Peter dropped his jaw in offence as you tossed the baby back to him.
“That is so not true,” he scrunched his nose up.
You rolled your eyes, catching the baby when he threw it to you again.
“Try doing three claps in between catching it,” you dared him with a grin.
“Wha- no, too risky,” Peter began to protest.
You threw the baby back to him, and just as you expected, he clapped three times before catching it. Jeez, sometimes Peter was too easy. He basically did anything you said. Except be on time.
“Okay, my turn,” you declared.
“You sure that you’ll catch it?” Peter looked at you with a sceptical stare.
“Yes, Peter, I’m sure,” you rolled your eyes.
“Alright, alright, sorry,” he held his free arm up as if to show he was surrendering. “I just don’t want the baby to break or anything, this is-,”
“-our grade after all,” you cut him off to finish his sentence with a mocking stare. “Yeah, yeah, you’ve already said that. Just throw it.”
“Okay, fine,” Peter caved.
“She likes it anyway, we’re basically just rocking her to sleep,” you justified.
“I don’t know about that, but sure,” Peter gave you a doubtful frown. “Catch.”
Clapping your hands three times, you caught the baby with ease.
“This is easy, I can’t believe you thought I couldn’t do that,” you scoffed.
“Well, I don’t know your athletic abilities.”
“This is not athletics, but whatever,” you laughed. “Let’s make it harder.”
And with that, the dares got more complex with each turn. Turns, claps, clicking, and stomping were all featured at some point – some proving to be more difficult than others.
You were surprised to find yourself having fun; it turned out that Peter didn’t make for bad company. Something you never realised since he was never around. The fun came to a crashing halt on Peter’s turn. With a clap and a bang, your jaw dropped.
Apparently, two claps, a spin and two more claps were actually too much for Peter. And although he caught the baby by its arm, the rest of her body did not hold up. Now, Peter was holding one toy arm in his hand and on the floor beneath him was the rest of the baby.
Your jaw dropped, and Peter’s eyes widened, both of you completely silent as you stared down at the doll. Neither of you dared move.
You were suddenly possessed with the urge to laugh. The sight was comical. Peter stood there, mouth agape and a horrified look in his eyes as he clutched the baby’s arm.
You started to grin, half-smirking as your laughter broke the silence. Peter looked up at you, clearly baffled.
“Are you seriously laughing right now?” Peter asked, staring at you in concern.
“I… I just-,” you started in between laughter. “I was so sure I was going to be the one to break it.”
Peter looked at you with a blank stare for a moment, until he hesitantly started laughing.
“I kind of did too,” he admitted. “What are we going to do now?”
“We can just glue it back on or something,” you shrugged.
“We’re graded on this baby’s happiness,” Peter reminded you with a concerned frown. “We just brutalised her, I can’t imagine her chip shows her as very happy right now.”
“It’ll be fine, Peter,” you brushed him off, walking towards him. “She’s not even crying.”
Peter went quiet and picked up the doll from the floor, looking at it quizzically.
“How is that even possible?” He frowned.
“Guess it’s not programmed to take notice of missing limbs,” you shrugged.
Peter laughed hesitantly, clearly still nervous about the assignment.
“Trust me, it’ll be fine,” you nodded. “I’ll fix it now.”
“Okay, yeah,” Peter affirmed, seemingly more for his benefit than anything.
You began in the direction of your room, Peter following behind you.
Reaching under your bed, you pulled out your craft box. Digging around for a few seconds, you quickly found superglue.
“This’ll work fine, we just won’t be able to touch the doll for a couple of hours while it dries,” you nodded, reaching up to grab the doll from Peter’s hands.
Feeling awkward, he sat down on the floor next to you.
“What if she needs something?” Peter asked with a worried frown.
“We can just go out to the living room so we can’t hear it crying,” you brushed him off, focused on placing the glue in the correct spot.
“I meant more how will we stop her from crying so she’s, y’know... happy,” Peter corrected.
“She’ll be fine,” you waved him off. “We like just did all her care stuff, so she shouldn’t need anything for a bit.”
“’Spose,” Peter’s eyebrows were still pinched with concern.
You lined the baby’s arm up in the correct position and began to press it into the toy’s body.
“Look, Peter, it’ll be fine,” you started, looking towards him. “We can cope with like one hour of unhappiness.”
“We can just force-feed her some water now, if that’ll make you feel better,” you offered with a shrug.
“But she can only drink a little bit at a time,” Peter twisted his mouth with concern.
“Okay, so we’ll force it, not hard.”
“Isn’t that like… waterboarding?” Peter looked deeply concerned and slightly disturbed.
“It’s a robot, Peter.” You heaved a sigh, looking at him like he was an idiot. “It’s not like she’s gonna report us to the police.”
Peter clamped his mouth shut. You were right.
“You’ve gotta relax, main priority is the doll’s fixed so we don’t have to pay to get a new one,” you spoke firmly. “Jeez, I never would’ve guessed you’d be so concerned over assignments. Especially one as dumb as this.”
Content with the shape the doll was in, you let her down carefully and stood up.
“What do you mean?” Peter asked, standing up with you.
“Just didn’t think school mattered that much to you,” you shrugged, walking out of the room with Peter in immediate tow.
“What?” Peter spluttered. “Why would you think that?”
“Are you kidding?” You turned back to face him with a laugh as you guys walked towards the living room. “You skip class, when you do come, you’re nearly always late, and you hand in assignments wildly late.”
Peter frowned. He did not like this perception you seemed to have of him.
“I care very much about my school work, thank you,” Peter spoke, his voice slightly defensive.
He felt very concerned that you thought this lowly of him.
“If you say so,” you gave a partial shrug as you flopped down onto the couch. “Do you wanna watch a movie?”
“Yeah, sure,” Peter replied, sitting beside you at a distance he thought to be respectable.
Until now, he just assumed you thought of him as Ned’s weird but polite friend. But apparently, you thought of him as some wild, school-skipping delinquent.
He wanted to defend himself, explain to you that he was just busy living two lives simultaneously. He didn’t, though. It was obvious you weren’t interested in discussing the matter further, and he didn’t want to risk you asking him questions he couldn’t answer without revealing his secret identity.
“What movie are we gonna watch?” He instead asked, looking over to you.
“Mmm, dunno,” you scrunched your nose in thought. “What genre do you think?”
“Whatever you want.”
“Good answer,” you grinned at him, feeling yourself gradually becoming more and more content with his presence. “Okay, I’ve got the perfect movie.”
“Cool,” Peter replied.
Your face was beautiful. Lit up with excitement as you searched for the right app that showed the movie. He liked it when you were happy. He rarely saw it when he was around.
He tried not to take that fact too personally.
“Okay, great,” you said with a smile as you found the movie. “I’ll close the blinds so there’s not a glare on the screen.”
Peter nodded, unsure of how to act all over again. As the curtains went down and the room gradually became darker, he could feel the atmosphere of the room transforming.
Before, the sun had shone down, and things felt casual and light. He had felt more sure of himself. But now, with the room dark aside from the sliver of sunlight slipping through the curtains, it felt different. Intimate. As if you were the only two in the world.
He had to pull himself together.
“This okay?” You asked Peter as you made your way back to the couch.
“Yeah,” Peter cleared his throat and nodded, even though he knew you wouldn’t be able to see. “It’s great.”
And with that, you pressed the play button, and the loud sound of the opening credits filled the room.
˚✶⋆. .⋆✶˚
The end credits began to roll, and as much as Peter had tried to his hardest to allow himself to get lost in the movie, he hadn’t. It wasn’t that the movie was bad; in fact, he truly did enjoy it, but knowing you were so close to him made him feel nervous and slightly ill.
Over the course of the movie, Peter had come to two conclusions:
You only liked him as a friend.
He needed to make you like him as more than a friend.
He felt more stressed than he could have imagined.
You clicked off the movie, and the screen dimly lit the room, silence washing over the two of you.
“So what did you think?” You asked Peter with an eager tone.
“It was really good,” Peter nodded, feeling immensely shy.
You, of course, had noticed Peter’s change in mood. It surprised you that he seemed more awkward than before. You had found yourself growing more comfortable around him, so you were surprised he appeared the opposite.
“Do you think so?” You asked, unsure of what else to say.
“Yeah, for sure,” Peter affirmed.
He had to pull himself together (something he found himself saying more often than not recently). Even if you didn’t want to date him just yet, he had to prove to you that you should want to.
“I’m surprised the baby hasn’t started crying,” Peter said with a solemn nod that you couldn’t quite catch in the room’s darkness.
“So am I,” you agreed. “I think this is a record, she hasn’t gone this long without a disturbance the whole time she’s been with me.”
“Yeah.”
Unbeknownst to the two of you, the baby had been crying for the past hour. It turned out your room offered shockingly good noise cancellation.
“I guess we’ll have to figure something out for tonight,” you sighed.
“’Spose so,” Peter replied. “Dunno what Ms Belluva expected us to all do at night. Surely she didn’t think everyone would just sleep over at one another’s houses.”
Your eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness, and you could faintly make out Peter’s figure. His legs were criss-crossed, and he was turned to completely face you.
“I guess most people were partners with their friends, so sleepovers wouldn’t exactly be uncommon,” you shrugged. “She probably wasn’t expecting strangers like us to be paired up.”
Peter frowned. You two weren’t strangers. How could you think that of him? Sure, he could admit you guys weren’t exactly friends, but you guys were both friends with Ned and had talked to one another a couple of times.
“I mean, we aren’t really strangers,” Peter started. “We did know each other prior.”
“I guess,” you frowned to yourself. “We didn’t really like each other, though.”
Peter felt his heart drop.
“What?”
“We didn’t like each other.” You repeated, your voice impossibly casual.
“What?” He said, unsure of what else he could possibly say.
“What do you mean what?” You half laughed, your tone hesitant and becoming uncertain.
“We liked each other.” Peter frowned.
“Are you serious? There’s no way you think that,” you shook your head. “No way.”
“I do think that,” Peter insisted.
He knew how he sounded. Weak. Pathetic. Desperate.
But he couldn’t stop himself. He needed to convince you that you had liked each other. Even though you were making it pretty clear that you didn’t like him.
“How could you possibly think that?” You frowned.
“Well, we’ve talked before,” Peter spoke, trying to stop his voice from wavering. “I didn’t think our interactions were so bad that they could make you not like me.”
You were quiet, and Peter felt realisation hit him like a bag of bricks.
“You didn’t like me?” His voice was small, wounded.
You squeezed your eyes shut, guilt rocking you. You hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings, you thought he didn’t like you either! At the very least, you thought he knew that you didn’t like him. You weren’t exactly subtle about it.
“Well-, no… It’s not like that,” you frowned, unsure of how to get yourself out of this. “I just… I didn’t know you… You know?”
You couldn’t see his facial expression, but based on his silence, you figured he wasn’t very happy.
“I’m sorry,” you bit the inside of your cheek with a frown. “Really, Pete.”
“If I’m being honest, I did think you were really nice, it’s just… you changed Junior year,” you winced.
“You just acted so different, and I was always hearing about how you were ditching Ned like every next second,” you explained hesitantly. “And I know, you pulled it together with Ned, but you’d changed. It was undeniable, really. You were always skipping class, not taking anything academic seriously from what I could tell.”
Peter flinched. You were right. That was what hurt him the most.
He did ditch Ned. He had treated Ned horribly without an explanation for months on end.
And he was constantly late for class, missing assignments, and not paying full attention. So much so that you had noticed.
“I guess that’s true,” Peter sighed dejectedly. “So you really don’t like me?”
“I like you.”
“You just said like five reasons proving the opposite.” Peter frowned.
“Those were just dumb judgments I had made of you before,” you insisted, twisting your body so you sat fully facing him. “I didn’t even know you.”
“I was just stupid and mean, I’m sorry.” Your insisted.
“What? No,” Peter’s eyes widened with surprise, his voice slightly cracking as he spoke. “You’re not mean, not at all.”
“Come on, Peter, that was mean of me,” you rolled your eyes at his forgiving nature.
“It wasn’t,” he shook his head firmly. “I treated Ned terribly.”
“Well, Ned says you had reason enough.”
Peter hesitated.
“Did he…” Peter paused. “Did Ned tell you why?”
“No, of course not, Ned wouldn’t betray you like that.”
“Oh, right. Of course.”
The two of you were quiet for a moment, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking.
“I really am sorry,” you murmured, your voice soft. “And I’m sorry for not coming to the door last night.”
“It’s okay,” Peter replied, his tone sincere. “I understand.”
The dynamic between you two had notably shifted.
It felt like a wall had been up between the two of you, and now that it was broken, you were both standing raw in front of one another. Suddenly, it felt like everything between the two of you had been filtered and calculated until this very moment. For him, it had been because he was so desperate to impress you that he couldn’t possibly relax. And for you, well, apparently it was because you hated him.
But now, both of those reasons have dissolved. You didn’t need to keep him at arm’s length, toeing the line between being a bully and being a friend. And he didn’t need to fight to impress you now because it was a dying battle.
You two weren’t enemies.
You weren’t friends.
And you certainly weren’t dating.
You were just… two people who were forced together for the weekend but had seemingly no intention of interacting beyond that.
Unsure of where to go from here, the two of you sat in silence in the dark.
“I should probably head back soon, I told May I’d make dinner,” Peter spoke, breaking the silence.
“Alright, that’s fine.” You replied, pushing yourself off the couch so you could try to find the light switch.
You didn’t know who May was, and you were pretty sure Peter didn’t need to make dinner at 3 pm, but you figured it was better not to argue with him.
“Maybe I should take the baby for the rest of the night,” Peter suggested, his voice hesitant. “I can have it Sunday night as well, and you could have her in the day on Sunday. Sort of like shifts, y’know?”
You closed your eyes as you flicked the light switch on, the sudden bright light feeling too harsh.
“If you’d like,” you replied, forcing yourself to turn from the light switch to face him.
“Yeah, it’d just be easier this way… More practical,” Peter nodded, slightly rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.
Truthfully, he wasn’t sure he could bear spending more time with you now. It would hurt far too much. Both of your feelings were too much in the open for his liking. He knew things wouldn’t get better between the two of you if you didn’t spend more time together, but the idea of having to face you, knowing he didn’t have a chance in the world of dating you, pained him.
It was like having a cut and going to the beach without a Band-Aid. Maybe the salt water would help heal the injury, but exposing the cut to the water would hurt so much that it would be hard to believe it was worth it.
“The glue would’ve dried by now. I’ll just get the doll for you,” you spoke, voice void of emotion.
You found the doll crying, and you almost felt relieved. At least this meant you and Peter wouldn’t be stuck in deafening silence anymore.
“She must’ve just started crying,” you said, walking out of your room to the front door so you could meet Peter.
Clearly, he was eager to leave.
“Must’ve,” Peter nodded, taking the baby from your hands.
He had been careful not to let your hands meet as you exchanged the doll, too scared to get so close.
“I can drop the doll off in the morning,” he offered.
“Sounds good,” you offered him a small, slightly forced smile.
“10 okay?”
“Sure,” you nodded.
“Alright, well, thanks,” Peter started. “I enjoyed the movie.”
“That’s good,” you said, unlocking and opening the front door. “I’m glad.”
“Yep,” Peter awkwardly walked through the doorway and turned to face you.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” You held the door open for him, watching him hover by your doorway uncertainly.
“Yeah, see you,” Peter replied, turning to leave before you stopped him.
“I do like you, Peter.”
He looked back at you, and a small, ever-so-faint smile graced his lips.
“I like you too.”
You smiled at him, grateful he returned the sentiment. It felt like a truce had been drawn between the two of you.
“I’ll see you at 10,” he said with a shy nod before turning away.
As he walked away, you clicked the door shut with a sigh.
Ned was right, Peter wasn’t half bad.
˚✶⋆. .⋆✶˚
part 3: click here!
a/n: i'll try and post part 3 asap, it'll probably come out in one or two days <3
summary: you and peter are paired up for a school assignment. 50% of your grade depends on your ability to co-parent a fake baby with Peter. the problem is, you have a slight(ly extreme) hatred of peter who is not only madly oblivious of that, but also madly in love with you.
themes for part 1: light angst, tiny bit of fluff, enemies to lovers, except peter never really views you as an enemy
warnings: suggestive themes
word count: 6k
a/n: timeline is a bit off, i wrote that peter got his powers in junior year and you both are in senior year. also y/n is written a bit more complex than my usual, so please be mindful that while she comes off as unfairly rude to peter, she’s aware it’s unfair and will continuously make the conscious effort to improve <3
masterlist link: here!
series links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4
“Late again, Peter?” Your teacher, Miss Belluva, asked.
You turned around to find a very dishevelled Peter Parker stumbling through the doorway. A couple of papers fell from his grasp, and he reached down to pick them up quickly.
His clothes were crumpled and in desperate need of ironing, and his hair was sticking up in a manner so muddled that you almost wanted to fix it for him. He looked as though he had only just woken up. Given there were only 30 minutes of school left, and you were sure you had seen him this morning, you figured this possibility was unlikely. What else he possibly could have been doing was beyond you.
You weren’t sure what was wrong with Peter, but ever since Junior year, he seemed different.
He used to be a perfectly respectable, quiet boy who kept his head down and worked hard. You two weren’t ever friends, but you considered yourselves friendly. You sat with his friend, Ned, in English class last year and each time you heard Ned talk about how his plans with Peter suddenly fell through or how Peter had ‘accidentally’ stood him up at lunch, you couldn’t help but pity Ned and grow a small (truly quite tiny) hatred towards Peter.
That small hatred quickly grew.
It doubled when you saw Ned sitting alone at lunch, his head turning around each time the cafeteria door swung open.
It tripled when you saw Ned lingering by Peter’s locker with a look of disappointment.
And it finally turned into a completely full-blown hatred when you overheard Peter cancelling on Ned for the third time in a week.
Admittedly, he seemed to be a bit better this year. Ned claimed that Peter had apologised profusely and had a perfectly reasonable explanation for his absent nature. Ned explained that Peter promised to be better, and his actions lined up with that promise. While you were happy for Ned, you were already set on hating Peter and instead turned your hatred towards different behaviours of his.
Like his arrogance, knowing he could pay no attention in class, yet still passed all his classes.
Or his disrespectful habit of being late for class, that is, if he even showed up.
Sometimes you’d pass him in the hallways, and he would give you a small, shy smile, and it almost made you forget about all the built-up hatred you held for him. Almost. For now, you were set on hating him.
“I’m sorry, Miss Belluva,” he winced weakly before sitting down at an empty table in the back. “I had an appointment.”
A couple of students snickered, looking to their friends with amusement. Everyone knew Peter’s habit of coming to class late. Your teacher, of course, did not care. She was extremely laid back and had a whimsical manner of running her classes. It almost irritated you how much Peter got away with.
“That’s alright, Peter, perhaps next time try to schedule your appointments outside of class time, hm?” Miss Belluva spoke, her voice light and airy.
You rolled your eyes. She was too kind, too flippant. Of course, her kindness was usually something you appreciated, but she let Peter get away with one too many things for your liking.
“I was just telling the class about our new assignment, it’s a partner project,” She smiled kindly in Peter’s direction, her eyes practically sparkling.
Peter offered a tight-lipped smile in return. He ran a hand through his messy hair; his eyes darted across the room until they landed on you. You turned away quickly, facing the front of the classroom again.
A partner project sounded like torture, and you dreaded the idea of having to choose the partner yourself. You weren’t friendless – you had a tight-knit trio consisting of girls you had known since First Grade. The problem was that neither of them were in this class, and you hadn’t exactly made much of an effort to form new friends in this class aside from smiling at a couple of people you thought seemed nice enough. Shockingly enough, those smiles did not make you suddenly form a friendship with the recipients.
Your teacher proceeded to drone on about the importance of teamwork and the necessity of forming strong bonds, neglecting to mention what the assignment was actually about. Your bit your cheek, contemplating whether Miss Belluva would allow you to do the assignment alone.
“Oh! Would you look at the time? We’ve only got five minutes of class left,” your teacher tutted with a surprised glance at her watch. “Alright, everyone, find yourself a partner, quickly now.”
The classroom was filled with loud chatter, and when you dared to turn your head to look behind you, you realised nearly everyone was partnering with whoever they were sitting near. You frowned to yourself, your palms quickly becoming slick with sweat. You loathed partner assignments. You mentally kicked yourself for not thinking to sit beside someone. What were you thinking, sitting alone?
You slumped back in your seat, trying to make yourself as small and unnoticeable as possible. You honestly almost felt like crying. Maybe it was time to look into homeschooling.
You quickly blinked your eyes tightly together, unsure where to go from there. Miss Belluva was kind enough, and you were sure she would be fine if you did the assignment alone. Digging your nails into your palm, you decided that’s exactly what you would do.
And just as you were about to go talk to her, you heard a small voice from behind you.
“Do you have a partner yet?” Someone asked you in a soft and apprehensive tone.
You turned around, eager to see who had finally saved you from the humiliation of doing a partner assignment alone.
There stood a blushing Peter Parker, brown eyes wide and fixed on you. He looked almost nervous, tightly clutching the pile of his clearly well-used textbooks and nervously fiddling with the pages.
You were ready to tell him you didn’t need a partner, that you were perfectly content doing the assignment yourself, and it had already been worked out. But there was something about his furrowed eyebrows of concern and his eyes staring down at you with a look of extreme desperation that you couldn’t help but take pity on him.
“No, I don’t,” you sighed begrudgingly.
“Would-you-like-to-be-partners-with-me? If you’re okay with that?” He asked, his words rushed and merging together, making it hard to decipher what he was actually saying.
“Uh, sure,” you nodded, pursing your lips. “Thanks.”
“Of course,” he smiled at you. “Thank you. For being partners with me, I mean.”
Peter was probably the worst possible option for people you could get paired with. He was disorganised and didn’t seem to take anything seriously enough to do it right.
He slid into the seat beside you, still smiling in your direction.
Peter seemed oblivious to your attitude towards him, leaning in closer to shyly whisper to you.
“What’s the assignment actually on?” He asked sheepishly.
You turned toward him with an irritated frown.
“Maybe if you were ever on time, you would know.” You responded curtly.
Peter spluttered, searching for a reasonable excuse for his repeated tardiness.
“I just lose track of time sometimes,” he explained weakly.
You almost laughed; it was quite possibly the worst excuse he could have given you.
“Can you tell me what the assignment’s on, please?” Peter asked, his voice kind.
You hesitated.
You had been so eager to rub in Peter’s face the cost of slacking off, you forgot you didn’t actually know what the assignment was on.
“I think…” You started, unsure of how to get yourself out of this. “Well, I’m sure she’ll repeat her explanation. For the late-comers, like yourself.”
You smoothed your clothing, attempting to seem casual and sure of yourself.
“If she doesn’t, could you tell me, please?” Peter asked, clearly not picking up on your flustered excuses.
“Perhaps,” you slowly nodded. “If I’m feeling nice.”
“Okay,” Peter replied, a hint of amusement laced in his voice. “Thank you.”
You would never dare talk to anyone else like this, but someone had to put Peter in his place, and you quite enjoyed the feeling of having something to hold over Peter’s head.
“Alright, guys, come collect one baby between each pair,” your teacher called out, pulling a box out from the corner of the room.
The sound of confused chatter filled the classroom, and you cocked your head with uncertainty.
“Oh, silly me! I haven’t explained the assignment yet, have I?” Your teacher laughed lightly.
Well, there went your leverage.
You ducked your head, not keen to see Peter’s reaction.
Peter, of course, was too nice to mock you and instead kept his head facing the teacher, biting his lip to control his laughter.
“Shut up,” you murmured.
“I didn’t say anything,” he spoke in a hushed tone.
“She just forgot she already explained it,” You weakly offered, turning back to face the teacher. “She’s like that, y’know?”
“Oh, sure,” Peter nodded.
You couldn’t quite tell if his tone was sarcastic or genuinely forgiving. In every interaction you had with Peter, he had been a bit of a people-pleaser. Smiling at you, pulling out chairs and asking how your day was. You weren’t sure what possessed him to submit to you (and presumably everyone else) so shamelessly.
“Well, congrats, guys! You’re all parents.” Your teacher exclaimed with a grin.
To describe her as eccentric was the least insulting way to explain her teaching style.
“Your pair will be in charge of one of these robotic babies, and you’ll have to care for your child until the coming Monday.” Your teacher started. “Keep them happy, and you’ll get an A!”
Public schooling was a joke.
“Alright, guys, I’ll come around the room and give you each a baby,” she continued. “I just need to record the code for each baby assigned to your pair, and then you can all leave.”
"I'll give you guys some supplies as well. You'll need to bottle-feed water to the baby, change them, and give them naps. Nothing too complex!"
This assignment sounded truly awful.
Despite being at the front, you and Peter received the toy baby last. In her typical, peculiar fashion, she had zigzagged across the room ever so impractically, making you and Peter the last two students left in the room.
“Oh, perfect!” Your teacher exclaimed when she finally reached the two of you. “You two will make great partners.”
Peter had to stop himself from cheering with delight.
On the other hand, you had to stop yourself from scowling.
You were sure Peter would make an awful partner, considering he could barely so much as show up to school on time.
“You two will have to spend the vast majority of the weekend together, no shared custody where one has it at a time,” Miss Belluva explained with a nod.
You were actually about to start twitching with annoyance.
She lowered the last robotic baby on the desk in front of you and Peter, scribbling in her book the code written on the baby’s plastic foot.
“I want both of you putting in equal efforts for this baby,” she nodded, handing you guys a small bag of supplies.
You muttered a small “ew” underneath your breath, conscious of making it too quiet for Peter or your teacher to possibly hear.
Peter frowned.
You assumed he wasn’t too impressed at the idea of being stuck with you all weekend either.
“Alright, I’ll see you guys Monday,” she smiled as she finished writing down the code, before turning to Peter and pointing the pen in his direction. “Class is at 9:30am, understood?”
“Understood,” he nodded quickly. “I’m really sorry for being late.”
She tossed her head back with a laugh, swiping her hand as if brushing him off.
You rolled your eyes, unable to hold yourself back.
“Thank you,” you said with a quick smile directed at the teacher.
You scooped up your books and nodded at Peter to hold the baby, which he of course quickly did. He gave you a happy smile, his chocolate-coloured eyes glistening with a gentle kindness.
You felt mean.
You were pretty sure your reasoning for hating Peter (while possibly valid last year) was worn out and no longer fair. If you gave him a chance, you were sure he would prove you wrong.
˚✶⋆. .⋆✶˚
This was a mistake.
He proved your initial judgment of him more correct than you ever could have anticipated.
It all fell apart in a matter of seconds.
As soon as the two of you had exited your classroom, he looked down at his phone, and his eyes widened.
“Uh, actually, I thi-,” he paused for a moment, scrolling back on his phone. “Yeah, I definitely have to go.”
You scowled as he pressed the robot baby into your arms.
“Sorry!” He called out as he ran off. “Just text me plans!”
That boy was impossible. You wanted to throw that doll at his figure, but you were sure you’d miss – since when could Peter run so fucking fast?
Before you could put much more though into his weird athletic ability, the baby began to wail, and you realised just how long of a week this was going to be.
You didn’t even have his number to text.
That was two hours ago. You were now sitting on the floor of your bedroom, leaning against your bedframe while you waited for Ned to respond to your text.
Your phone pinged beside you.
The robotic baby was cradled in your arms, finally quiet after a painful two hours of sobbing. While unbearablely annoying, you had to admit the doll was quite cute. With brown hair painted on and brown eyes, she wore a pink onesie with a little bunny embroidered on the front.
Uncertain on how the technology exactly worked and scared you might have woken her back up, you tried to reach your phone without moving too much.
‘hey! i sent thru peter’s number :)’ Ned’s message read.
You sighed with relief.
You were sure Peter had intentionally left without giving you his number in some stupid attempt to get out of doing work, but you refused to let it slide. Sending a quick and rather passive-aggressive text to Peter, demanding that he meet you at your apartment as soon as possible.
˚✶⋆. .⋆✶˚
Finally, an hour later, he replied.
‘Srory!! Il be ther in5 munits ;)’
His grammar was truly abysmal, looking as though he was jumping on a trampoline while he texted you. Your phone pinged againn and you found another message from Peter.
‘Wastn meanttobe winky facesoryr!’
You rolled your eyes and switched your phone off.
The baby was turning out to be much harder work than you had expected. The nap had only lasted thirty minutes, and she had been crying for the past thirty minutes. You were more than eager to pass the baby off to someone else and hoped that Peter would come in a hurry.
You had a very strong urge to throw the toy in a cupboard and be done with it. While the idea of failing pained you, the idea of Peter getting a bad grade was also extraordinarily tempting.
Before you could give it much further thought, you heard a light tap on the door and a pause, which was then followed by three loud and hesitant bangs. This must’ve been Peter.
Baby in hand, you stormed to the door and swung it open with an accusatory frown.
“What could you possibly have been doing for the past three hours?” You scowled, immediately pushing the baby into his arms. “Last time I checked, your only friend is Ned, and I know your social life is extraordinarily quiet, Peter, so don’t tell me you were busy with friends.”
Peter immediately went to cradle the crying baby with a concerned frown.
“I was, like, just really busy,” Peter sputtered with a wince. “Really… urgently busy.”
You gave him a doubtful glare and pulled him inside. Just as you were about to lecture him on his inconsiderate nature and how irresponsible he was, you scrunched up your nose.
“Have you been working out?” You asked with a scrunched up frown, looking him up and down.
He smelt strongly of sweat, and his hair looked slightly damp. Not to mention, dirt was etched in his forearms.
“What?” He asked, leaning back with an insecure frown.
“You literally look filthy.” You looked at him. “Have you been rolling around in dirt or what?”
“Uh, sorry, yeah, I’ve been working out.” He replied hesitantly, feeling slightly embarrassed.
“You couldn’t have taken five minutes longer to shower?” You looked at him with a judgmental frown.
“Well, you seemed eager for me to come!” He protested defensively.
“Whatever, you can shower here.”
“I don’t have a towel, though,” he frowned.
“I can lend you one,” you offered casually.
“I can’t use your towel,” Peter widened his eyes, his cheeks bright red.
“Not my own towel, you idiot,” you scowled, looking at him as though he were stupid. “We have spare towels, obviously.”
“Oh! Right,” he scratched his head awkwardly. “Obviously.”
You snickered at his awkward disposition. “Whatever, Parker. Jeez, you’re really on edge, huh?”
Before Peter had a chance to respond, you had already begun talking again.
“Here, I’ll take the stupid baby, and you can have a shower, just don’t take ages,” you spoke solemnly, walking towards the linen closet to fetch him a towel.
With one hand now cradling the baby, you used your free hand to push the door next to the closet open to reveal the bathroom. You gently put your hand on his back to push him forward. His back was damp with what you assumed to be sweat, so you quickly moved your hand off. Despite the short contact, the tingling feeling your touch had left on his back made Peter extremely flustered.
“Thank you, this is really nice of you,” Peter nodded as you pushed the soft, white towel into his arms.
“Helps me more than it helps you,” you shrugged, before swiftly closing the door in his face.
The door clicked shut, and the baby immediately started to cry again. You weren’t sure how you were gonna survive this weekend.
˚✶⋆. .⋆✶˚
About ten minutes later, you could faintly hear the sound of the shower’s water stopping. Peter had stuck to your instructions and been relatively fast. His shower had actually given you a bit of time to sort yourself out. The baby was handled, you had gotten out some clothing for Peter to change into (an oversized graphic-tee, a pair of unisex tracksuit pants and socks with a penguin pattern on them), and you got the chance to continue watching the show you had started last night.
You got up off the couch, grabbed the pile of neatly folded clothes from beside you and went to knock on the bathroom door.
“I’ve got you clean clothes,” you called out through the door.
“Oh, uh, okay, thanks,” Peter called back.
Before you had the chance to leave them on the floor in front of the bathroom door and instruct Peter to fetch them once you had left, the bathroom door swung open, and you were faced with a half-naked, dripping wet Peter Parker.
You gaped slightly, caught completely off guard. Your eyes not-so-subtly looked him up and down. His hair was dripping with water and slicked back from his face. This wasn’t as interesting as his muscles, which were significantly more prominent than you could’ve guessed. You couldn’t help but ever-so slightly admire them, taking notice of the gleam from water that highlighted his muscles perfectly. The towel was hanging from his waist, and droplets of water were running down his torso, meeting the soft fabric of the towel and soaking into it.
You almost felt like laughing in an awkward attempt to diffuse your obviously flustered state. You forced your eyes to look back up at Peter’s, hoping he hadn’t noticed you checking him out. He looked at you with slightly wide eyes, and you forced your mouth shut.
“I was just going to leave them here,” you spoke, not an ounce of emotion identifiable in your voice. “On the floor.”
“Oh,” Peter looked slightly dazed, staring into your eyes before realising what you were saying and getting a hold of himself “Oh. Oh! I’m sorry.”
His voice was high-pitched and awkward, his eyes wildly blinking in embarrassment.
“Wha-, well–,” Peter started, scrunching up his face. “I thought you wanted me to come get them now.”
“Uh, no, not quite,” you gulped.
You were sure he could hear how hard and fast your heart was beating.
“It’s fine,” you shook your head, as if trying to shrug off the misunderstanding. “Here.”
You thrust the pile of clothes into his chest and spun around.
“Thanks,” he called out.
You took a deep breath, trying to recollect yourself as you sat back down on the couch.
He got changed relatively fast; you could hear him open and shut the bathroom door, hesitate, then start walking into the living room where you sat.
“Hey,” he spoke, sounding almost shy.
“Hey,” you replied plainly.
He stayed silent and unmoving, causing you to roll your eyes and turn around to face him.
“Are you just gonna stand there or what?”
“Oh, no, sorry,” he hurried, moving to where his backpack was placed by the front door as he awkwardly shoved his clothes inside it.
You turned back to the TV before he interrupted you again.
“Where’d you put the baby?” He asked, walking over.
“Freezer.”
Peter side-eyed you hesitantly. “What?”
“It keeps her quiet.”
“How’d you discover that?” Peter looked at you with uncertainty.
“I got ice from the freezer, I saw a space, I shoved her in the space, shut the freezer door, and the cries stopped,” you shrugged.
There was a beat of silence as Peter looked at you quizzically.
“Should I take her out?”
“She likes it in there, it’s fine.”
“I think maybe we should still take her out.”
“Do what you want, but she doesn’t cry when she’s in there,” you shrugged.
He moved to the freezer and took the doll out; she hadn’t been in there long, so she wasn’t too cold. Immediately, the baby started crying again, robotic and glitchy whines coming from the doll.
“Told you she liked it in there,” you pointed out.
“I was worried it might break her battery or something if we kept her in.” He murmured, awkwardly cradling the doll against his chest.
He looked good in your clothes, not that you would ever tell him that.
“This baby’s really loud,” Peter frowned.
“It’s been really loud,” you scoffed. “That’s why she was in the freezer.”
“I’m sorry for not being here to help,” he offered apologetically.
“Don’t pull that disappearing act again.”
“I won’t, I’ll be really present – honestly,” he eagerly nodded. “It’s just the Stark internship.”
“Thought it was the gym?” You stared at him pointedly, switching the TV off so you could focus.
“It was both,” he spoke, his voice uncertain and slightly wavering.
“What could Stark possibly be needing you so urgently for anyway?” You scoffed. “Are you telling me an 18-year-old who’s still in school is better at building robots or whatever than the billionaire inventor himself?”
“Really, he’s helping me more than I’m helping him,” Peter reasoned. “Mister Stark sa-,”
“Mister Stark?” You laughed, cutting Peter off. “That’s what you call him?”
Peter looked taken aback.
“Well, yes,” he looked at you, an embarrassed blush flushing his cheeks. “Stop laughing, it’s upsetting the baby.””The baby’s been upset, Peter,” you quipped. “It’s got a deadbeat father; I would be crying as well.”
“Psh- what! I’m not deadbeat,” Peter scoffed, hugging the baby closer to him. “I was working to support the child like a good parent would.”
“Okay, I’m not interested in roleplaying parenthood with you,” you cut him off with an uninterested tone, causing Peter to purse his lips in shame as you stood up. “Have fun with the crying, I’ll be in my room.”
“Wha-? Aren’t you going to help?” He recoiled, lowering his voice when he spoke again. “I can’t just free roam in your house. What if your parents come out and talk to me?”
“My parents aren’t home.”
“When they get home, then,” Peter corrected.
“Won’t be until Wednesday, I should hope you’re not planning on staying that long.”
“Well, of course not, but still, this is a partner project,” Peter reasoned.
“Okay, and my partner was absent for three whole hours. It’s well and truly your turn.” You sighed, turning away from him.
“I’m really sorry,” Peter repeated.
“You’ve said that,” you sighed.
“You’re still mad, though.”
“Whatever,” you groaned, not looking to have a heartfelt discussion. “I’ll stay out here and help you.”
Peter grinned to himself, happy you were giving him a chance.
“But, only if you take her for the night.” You added on with a stern look.
“For the night? Aren’t we both supposed to be with her, though?” Peter gave you a confused frown.
“Well, you’re not sleeping over, so one of us has to take her, and it’s not gonna be me,” you raised your eyebrows at him.
“But Miss Belluva said th-,”
“Miss Belluva said that rain is the tears of dead puppies. I don’t care what that crazy lady says,” you cut Peter off.
“Okay, I’ll take her for tonight then,” Peter compromised.
“Great, glad that’s sorted.” You nodded.
A slightly awkward silence fell between the two of you; the baby seemed content in Peter’s arms and had quietened down while the two of you bickered. This surprised you, considering the idea of being in Peter’s arms made you want to throw up, but to each their own.
You were content with sitting in silence, but Peter appeared eager to make conversation despite how awful he was at doing such a thing.
“Would you uh- like water or something?” Peter awkwardly offered.
“What?” You turned your head to face him, staring at him blankly.
“Do you want water?” Peter repeated, with an uncertain smile.
Based on your perplexed expression, he was pretty sure silence would have been a better choice at this point.
“Do you have like a stock of water in your bag, or are you offering to get water from the kitchen for me?” You cocked your head, too thrown off to even be annoyed. “My kitchen, mind you.”
“Er- get it for you from the kitch- your kitchen.”
You looked completely bewildered. Peter winced.
“Uh- I’ll pass, thanks though.” You replied slowly.
“That’s okay!” Peter hurried.
“Thanks for letting that one slide,” you grimaced.
Peter hated himself.
After a beat of silence, you figured it would be better for you to say something before Peter spewed some nonsense again.
“Would you like any water?”
“No, I’m go–,” Peter started, his voice cracking, causing him to cough to clear his throat. “I’m good, thanks though.”
“Alright,” You nodded slowly. “Well, I might get some just in case. You sound… thirsty.”
You didn’t even know the half of it.
Peter was so desperate to impress you, and while he had thought this was the perfect chance, he realised he would probably have a better chance if he never interacted with you.
You got up off the couch and began walking to the kitchen. Watching you with desperate and longing eyes, Peter realised that Ned was right. You were well and truly out of Peter’s league. He forced himself to tear his eyes away from you and forced himself to look down at the toy baby in his arms.
He had to get a hold of himself.
He had the perfect chance to impress you now. He was in your apartment, one-on-one, and with nothing else to do but cradle a toy baby. This was basically his version of third base, and he was wasting it by being awkward and annoying.
Unsure of what else to do, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent a quick text to Ned.
‘Dude, help. I’m at her apartment and I dont know what to do.’
Thankfully, Ned seemed active and was already typing a message back.
‘are you not doing an assignment lmao??’
Peter groaned to himself, desperate for real advice before you returned from the kitchen.
‘The baby’s asleep i need to actually talk to her!!’
To this, Ned replied with: ‘baby? waht are you guys doing what type of school assignment is this 💀💀’
Peter was bouncing his leg; he could hear you pouring the water and he knew he didn’t have much more time to sort himself out.
‘Forget the assignment!! just tell me what to do I’m totally blowing it’
‘your chances have beennn blown lmao’ Ned replied. Peter frowned, waiting for Ned to send another message.
‘just wtahc a movie or smth?? ask her about her life. treat her like a NORMAL HUMAN’ Ned texted.
‘Okok, is it lame to ask her what her life plan is? like with college apps and stuff???’
‘💀💀💀’
Peter huffed, waiting for Ned’s next message, hoping it would be a tad more encouraging.
’do not phrase it like that.’
Ned was right, Peter would sound like a guidance counsellor.
‘What about: “how are you going with college applications?” is that good??? Quick she’s coming’ Peter typed out.
‘yeah that’s fine jst act normal ur overthinking it dude. also do u wanna come over and build lego next week? i got a new set’
Peter replied with a quick ‘Thx!! i’ll come over next week text later’ before switching his phone off and turning up to face you as you entered the room.
He must’ve looked pretty suspicious, turning his phone off in such a hurry because you looked at him with an uncertain frown.
“Everything okay?”
“Yep,” Peter nodded. “Just texting Ned.”
“Oh, right,” you passed the glass of water to Peter before sitting down beside him. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, been busy with school work, but otherwise stuff’s been fine.” Peter smiled at you.
“I meant with Ned,” you tilted your head, trying to conceal your smirk.
“Oh,” Peter hesitated, feeling painfully embarrassed. “Yeah, I know, that’s what he was texting about.”
“Right.”
“And Lego,” Peter added.
“What?”
“We were talking about… Lego,” Peter explained, trying to give you a look he thought appeared cool and relaxed.
“Cool,” you nodded, seemingly uninterested and unimpressed.
Peter frowned to himself, trying to think back to Ned’s advice.
“So, how have you been going with college applications?” Peter asked.
“Fine, I think I know a couple of places I’m gonna apply to that aren’t too out of reach,” You shrugged.
“Oh, cool, that’s good,” he nodded.
A moment of silence passed as Peter desperately tried to think of something else to say.
“I think the baby’s asleep,” he started. “It’s actually not too hard to take care of her.”
“That’s because I’ve already done the hard stuff,” you pointedly raised your eyebrows at Peter.
“Oh, right, sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
You could tell Peter was internally freaking out; his leg was bouncing, which was sort of shaking the baby and no doubt the reason the robot had fallen asleep. You couldn’t help but find his awkward disposition slightly amusing. Taking pity on him, you decided to try to smooth over the awkward silence.
“So, what type of stuff do you do for Stark?”
˚✶⋆. .⋆✶˚
The baby started crying again after about forty minutes of semi-awkward small talk. You and Peter had covered a wide range of topics. You learnt about one another’s favourite movies, music tastes, hobbies, and favourite school subjects, as well as what he did for Stark.
Quite frankly, you felt a lot closer to Peter than you were comfortable with.
Hearing these personal details about him made you feel guilty for hating him so strongly. Really, what was so bad about him?
He was reasonably polite despite his poor social skills, and he made an effort to ask about your interests, never just talking about himself, which you appreciated.
But just when you found your dislike for him fading, all the old feelings came back when his phone lit up with a message, and he looked back at you with a guilty expression.
“Are you kidding me?” You asked with an annoyed stare. “Don’t tell me that’s Stark.”
“He needs my help with something,” Peter reasoned, his eyebrows pinched with a guilty expression.
“Bullshit. It’s nearly 8:00pm, you’re telling me your boss is texting you this late outside of work hours?” You stared at him in disbelief.
“He doesn’t really work traditionally like that,” Peter winced.
He could feel his progress with you slipping away.
“Well, that’s very unethical,” you sneered.
“I know, I’m sorry,” his voice was soft, and his eyes were wide.
His eyes were rather dreamy, but you refused to let yourself give in.
“Okay. Whatever. You’re still taking the baby when you’re done,” your voice taut with frustration.
“Yeah, of course,” he hurried. “I’ll swing by– come by and pick it up later. I’ll text you when I’m here. I’ll try not to come too late.”
“It’s fine, I stay up late anyway.”
“Okay… Alright,” He stood up from the couch, passing the baby to you. “I’ll see you later.”
“Yep,” you nodded, clearly annoyed.
Peter grabbed his backpack, and you unlocked the door for him.
He looked at you hesitantly.
“Bye,” you spoke before he had a chance to say anything more.
“Bye.”
And with that, he left, shutting the door behind himself.
He had never hated being Spider-Man more.
˚✶⋆. .⋆✶˚
Three hours, one fight and an extra shower later, Peter arrived at your building.
He had made a conscious effort to use both deodorant and cologne after his shower so that he looked and smelled more presentable than earlier. He had changed into clean clothes and put yours in the laundry at his house, hoping you preferred receiving them back clean and late rather than worn and soon. He was slightly disappointed he had to stop wearing the clothes and wash them, knowing your sweet scent would be washed out with his laundry detergent, but he was too desperate to please you to dare keep them longer than necessary.
Texting you ‘Hey! I’m at your apartment now, just coming up :)’ as he waited for the elevator to reach your floor. Popping a mint in his mouth and smoothing his hair with his hand, he couldn’t help but feel nervous to see you again. He knew you were annoyed at him for leaving, and he honestly couldn’t blame you.
The elevator pinged when he reached your floor, and he stepped out and hurriedly made his way to your apartment, not eager to make you wait any longer.
As your apartment came into view, he noticed a weirdly shaped object resting by the door, which caused him to pick up his pace with a drive of curiosity.
He felt his heart and smile drop when he reached your door and saw what was sitting there.
The toy baby was sitting outside your front door, slumped against the door, with a yellow sticky note pressed to its chest that read ‘cu tmr at 11am’. He assumed this meant he would have to deal with the baby until then. The baby wasn’t crying, so he realised you must have just placed it down there. He had half the urge to knock on your door and beg and plead for your forgiveness, but he didn’t want to risk making you annoyed.
With a dejected sigh, he picked up the baby and cradled it to his chest. Biting his lip and feeling the slightest bit like crying because of how stupid he felt, he made a shameful walk down the hallway back to the elevator so he could make his way back home.
He wasn’t sure how he could make up for this.
˚✶⋆. .⋆✶˚
for part 2: click here!
a/n: sorry for the depressing ending, i know y/n seems a tad mean, but it will all be sorted in due time <3 tag list is open for anyone interested!!
pairing: mcu!peter parker x reader (before dating)
summary: after you spend a lonely night of drinking, peter grows concerned and comes looking for you.
themes: emotional hurt/comfort
warnings: alcohol consumption, excessive drinking, sort of depressing thoughts on the reader’s behalf?
word count: 3.2k
song: no one noticed by the marías – not based on the song, but i found it fitting
my masterlist <3
You were growing increasingly desperate for a form of fun.
You couldn’t remember the last time you had properly hung out with anyone. You saw your friends at school, but since you had very few classes together, you only got to hang out during break times. And given it was prime-assignment time, most of the breaks were spent with people going to the library.
Tonight, Ned was at a family dinner, you had just about no idea what MJ was doing, Peter was patrolling, and all your other school friends were not replying to your messages. On top of that, each of your parents was away on some business trip, meaning you were really, truly alone.
You sat at your desk, the blue light of your laptop burning your eyes as you stared at the blank document in front of you. You leaned backwards in your chair, picking up your phone for the umpteenth time to see if you had missed a message from anyone.
Upon seeing you had none, you rolled your eyes and threw your phone at your bed positioned behind you. Turning back to your Word document, you began to type.
“The biopsychosocial model explores the biogvaeyufodsgiy89u[0-’;,.w.” you groaned, resting your head on the keyboard that was now typing absolute gibberish. Exasperated, you shut your laptop before jumping onto your bed.
Still no notifications.
Growing incredibly desperate for a form of socialisation, you sent a quick text to one of your school friends you considered yourself to be close with.
“r u free soon???” you typed out, internally despising yourself for coming off so desperate.
You knew her well enough to know you wouldn’t get a reply for at least a couple of hours, throwing your phone back onto the bed as you began to look around your room. Your fingers nimbly slid over the books across your bookshelf before the glint of glass caught your eye. Behind the books lay a glass bottle, the label worn and faded, but you were certain it was some form of alcohol. You had hidden it there after a night out with your friends and completely forgotten about it.
Before giving it much thought, you heedlessly grabbed the bottle, spinning the cap until it popped off. Feeling giddy at the mere thought of the alcohol, you touched your lips to the bottle, the stench of alcohol burning your nose. Leaving little time for consideration, you rashly took a gulp. Then another, and another and just one more until you felt the burning warmth in your stomach.
Slightly gagging at the rough taste that lingered on your tongue, you grasped the bottle of Raspberry Coke from your desk. As you swallowed the Coke, you checked your phone yet again, seeing absolutely no messages, which shouldn’t have surprised you at this point. It was then that you remembered the park just down the street. The time read 12:23am, but the alcohol was beginning to have an effect on you, leading to you deciding that now was the perfect time to go on the swings. Thrilled with yourself for thinking of the idea, you messily changed your clothes into something you deemed presentable as you gulped more alcohol from the bottle. The awful taste of the alcohol was barely registering anymore, making drinking from the bottle all the more fun.
As you pranced out of your room, clumsily twirling around as your jacket slipped off your shoulders. You hummed a song, slipping in and out of mumbling the words between hums. Taking a final swig, you shoved the bottle in your tote bag and roughly grabbed the keys off the kitchen counter before leaving the apartment.
The hallway was eerily quiet, all doors shut, and each apartment silent. You opted for the stairs, deciding the elevator would simply take far too long. You very nearly fell right down the stairs as you attempted to skip down the stairs. Finally reaching the ground floor, you pranced outside gracelessly without turning back.
The icy air harshly hit your skin, feeling as though your skin was being pinched and pulled. You grabbed the bottle from your bag and began to eagerly gulp the alcohol as though it would protect you from the cold.
The streetlights glowed down on you as if they were a spotlight, amber light illuminating the puddles of rainwater on the street. Deciding it was simply too beautiful to ignore, you fumbled around your pocket until you felt your phone.
You quickly pulled out your phone and began to squint with one of your eyes as if you were a professional photographer. Clumsily clutching at your phone, you took a photo of the puddle, attempting to capture the supposed beauty of the light’s illumination.
Unfortunately, you zoomed out to a point where the only focus was the grey footpath slick in the rain. Much to your oblivion, the photo was a blurry mess. This was unsurprising, considering you had not stopped incessantly swaying since taking your first gulps of the alcohol.
Admiring your masterpiece as you walked, you sent it to Peter with a smug grin, proud to show off that you could have fun whether he was with you or not. What’s so wrong with being alone?
You hastily pushed your phone back into the pocket of your skirt that you stupidly decided to wear despite it being the middle of winter. You took a swig from the bottle you had now deemed to be your best and only friend as you reached the playground.
Finding the gate to be significantly too much of a struggle, you heaved yourself over the relatively low fence, falling into the bark below. Much to your delight, you located the swings and paraded over to them.
You quickly found that swinging and drinking simultaneously was quite the struggle and resulted in the alcohol falling onto you more than into your mouth.
Distracted, you neglected to realise the number of texts coming through your phone from Peter, who had seen the mess of a photo and was growing concerned as to why you had sent it to him with absolutely no context.
Giving up on the swings, you climbed up the stairs leading to the top of the slide. It was then that you saw Peter’s name lighting up your screen. You laughed to yourself at the idea of him asking to come join you after ditching you for his patrol.
You sat atop the slide with the bottle held between your legs, as you attempted to pick up the call.
“Y/n?” Peter asked, his voice pinched with anxiety.
“Hi, Petey.” You slurred. “How’s your patrol?”
You rolled your eyes and fiddled with your hair as you awaited his response.
“Where are you, Y/n? Are you okay?” Peter asked, ignoring your question.
“I’m fine, I’m having some fun by myself, thank you very much!”
“Are you at home?” Peter’s voice was laced with concern, so much so that you could practically picture his furrowed eyebrows and sad brown eyes.
“I’ve gone for a walk. We should go on swings more often, Peter. They’re good fun.” You garbled, eyes beginning to grow weary.
Peter paused for a second, his heart hammering against his ribcage.
“Have you been drinking?” He asked, his voice quiet.
You pinched your pointer finger and thumb together as though to indicate a small bit. Realising he maybe couldn’t see that through the phone, you answered.
“Maybe a little bit. What’s it matter to you anyway? You’re too busy patrolling.” You over-enunciated.
“Y/-,” Peter started, growing concerned.
“I’ve gotta go, I’m incredibly busy.” You interrupted. “Byebye, Spidey!”
And with that, you ended the call. Feeling pleased with yourself for showing him how unbothered you were for over him being too busy for you, you clutched the bottle and slid down the slide.
You landed in a muddled heap on the floor, bark intertwining with your hair and clinging to your jacket. You hugged the bottle against your chest as though it were a delicate little baby you needed to care for. Feeling incredibly dizzy to the point you believed standing up may be impossible at this point, you decided to remain lying on the floor, looking up at the stars sprinkled across the navy sky.
Unbeknownst to you, Peter was swinging across the city like a maniac in an attempt to find you before you got hurt. He was already deeply concerned to know you were out late alone, but the fact that you were drunk just worsened it. At least if you were sober, he would have been able to talk to you properly. But being drunk while out alone in the middle of the night was a terrifying combination that had Peter trying to internally calm himself down so he could stop shaking so violently.
You had only moved into your apartment recently, so he knew neither of were entirely used to the area just yet. Thankfully, he remembered there was a park nearby that you had excitedly insisted on Peter coming with you to test out the swings.
He was hoping this was where you had gone to, and worried what he could do if that wasn’t the case. He considered whether he would be able to ask Tony to track your phone.
Swinging over the fence and arriving at the park in a hasty mess, he ripped his mask off. Anxiously combing his fingers through his curls, he called out your name hurriedly.
“Y/n, if you’re here, please, please, please say something,” He begged, wringing his mask in between his hands as he looked around the seemingly abandoned playground.
You groaned as you attempted to push yourself up from your position sprawled across the floor.
“Pete?” You murmured, your voice raspy and quiet.
The relief that flooded through him after finding you was immediately drained when he noticed the state you were in. Your hair was tangled, and your eyes were bloodshot as you looked over at him with a frown.
“Hey-,” Peter’s voice was low, quiet and cautious. “Hey, Y/n/n. What are you doing here?”
You sighed, the initial thrill of the alcohol was rapidly draining as a wave of depression washed over you — cold and unwelcoming. Feeling defeated and miserable, you nibbled at your lip in an attempt to hold back the tears that had come to your eyes.
“I don’t know.”
Peter felt a part of him break at hearing how small your voice was, laced with sadness. Peter hurried over to you, his hand reached out to help you sit up. Your head was downturned, and your bloodshot eyes were hazy and unfocused in a way that made Peter even more concerned.
“Has something happened?” He pried apprehensively.
This elicited a deep sigh from you, heavy and pointed.
“Of course you don’t know if anything’s happened, Petey,” you nearly spat his nickname out. “You’ve got no idea what’s going on in my life. You’re never around.”
Peter bit his cheek, starting to get an idea of why you were behaving this way.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been around more,” Peter said.
His voice was soft, delicate, as if he feared how you’d react.
“It’s not just you, it’s everyone,” you garbled. “No one’s ever around.”
“I’ll be better, I’ll be around so much you get sick of me,” Peter insisted, eyes wildly scanning your face to see if you registered anything he was saying.
“You always say that,” you sighed, sinking back into the floor.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know,” he dipped his head in shame. “I promise you, I won’t ever do this to you again.”
His tone was begging, desperate and laced with worried.
While he tried his hardest to contain it, he could feel a tear slip from his eye and race down his cheek. With a quick wipe at his cheek, it was gone. He refused to let your sadness be overshadowed by his.
“I promise you, Y/n. Never again,” he clutched your hand, gently shaking it to try and get you to focus.
“I’m sorry,” you mumbled weakly, leaning into him.
“Hey, you’ve done nothing wrong,” he assured you. “Well, maybe tonight wasn’t filled with your best decisions, but none of the emotions or feelings can be blamed on you.”
“Thank you for getting me,” you spoke.
“Always, always Y/n,” he insisted, his tone sickly sweet.
After a beat of silence, Peter gave your hand another squeeze.
“Let’s go back to your apartment,” Peter murmured, his eyebrows frowning with concern.
“Are you prep-pro-propositioning me, Petey?” You attempted to joke as you stumbled through the words. “Ya know… I reckon I must’ve heard that you aren’t meant to do that when someone’s drunk.”
Peter coughed back a laugh.
“No, not tonight at least,” Peter joked, although he was being partly honest. “I meant so you could go to sleep.”
“Are you staying?” You widened your eyes as you looked at the three Peters that appeared in front of you.
Forcing your eyes to focus, it was back to just the one.
The one, concerned and awkward but ever so lovely Peter.
“I’ll stay with you,” Peter spoke, his voice soft. “I’ll just sleep on the couch or the floor.”
You hummed absentmindedly in response.
You could faintly feel the smooth fabric of Peter’s suit on your arm as he tried to secure a hold of you. It appeared his apology hadn’t assisted in making you sober up.
As he pulled you off the floor, his brows furrowed with concern. You stood limply, as though you would fall if not for Peter clutching you tightly. He bit the inside of his cheek as he pulled your body closer to him, letting you lean your weight onto him. He held you up, guiding you as the two of you walked towards the park’s gate.
Your cheeks felt warm, yet your fingertips were painfully cold, and you were subconsciously aware of how your teeth were madly chattering.
“I’m sorry, Peter.” You murmured, your words still slurring together.
“It’s okay.” He responded as he fumbled with the gate’s entrance. “I understand.”
You allowed Peter to guide you through the exit as you struggled to keep your eyes open. You were struggling to keep your eyes open and had very little understanding of your surroundings. Thankfully, Peter was well aware and carefully guided you back home.
˚✶⋆. .⋆✶˚
Neither of you had spoken on your way home. Peter was too distracted to say anything; a million thoughts were rushing through his head as he desperately tried to figure out what was going on with you. Meanwhile, your focus had been drawn to clinging tightly to Peter’s arm and desperately trying not to fall or throw up.
After a long walk consisting of a significant amount of stumbling, you and Peter had finally made it to your apartment. Locking the door behind him, he guided you over to your bedroom. This proved to be more difficult than he had anticipated, as you were simultaneously trying to tug your shoes off.
Pick your shoes up off the floor as he followed you to your room, Peter attempted to guide you to your bedroom, where you immediately flopped onto the bed.
He looked at you for a moment, trying to decide what to do from here.
He was pretty sure you’d rather be in pyjamas, but he felt a bit odd changing your clothes.
He was very certain he should at least get you water, though, maybe put some Asprin on your bedside table for the next morning.
You groaned as you turned over in your mattress, lying on your back.
“Hey, uh– maybe let’s lie on our side,” Peter hurried, reaching for your body as he attempted to turn you to the side. “It’s unsafe on your back.”
You tossed out a hand lazily, waving him off, which caused Peter to frown.
Nervous to leave you alone, he looked around your room for a water bottle until he found a metal one with the Avengers’ label displayed across its middle. He shook it lightly, and the sound of ice clicking against the metal indicated the water was cold.
He brought it over to you as he gently pulled your body up to a sitting position. Your posture was slumped, and your head was hung forward, but it was better than nothing, Peter assured himself.
“Here, have some water before bed,” he insisted, holding the water bottle to your lips. “A couple of gulps, please.”
You obediently swallowed some water, some drops occasionally slipping out of your mouth.
“Thank you,” Peter said after you finished drinking the water. “Do you uh– wanna get changed?”
He wasn’t sure if this was an okay thing to offer a girl who was drunk, but he felt so uncertain of what to do that he was sure this was the only option.
You nodded slowly, eyes falling closed.
“Okay, right. Okay,” Peter mumbled to himself as he tried to think of what to do.
Knowing you kept your pyjamas behind your pillow, he reached behind your pillow to fetch the neatly folded clothes. He paid special attention to keeping his hand holding yours so he could keep you stable.
“Here, how about you change yourself?” he offered with a nervous smile. “I’ll just turn my back, okay?”
You silently nodded your head, drunkenly grabbing onto the clothes Peter held in front of you. Turning away, Peter gave you time to change your clothes. While he couldn’t see, based on the sounds made, he was pretty sure you weren’t doing a very good job of it.
“Done,” you slurred, slumping back onto the bed.
Turning back to face you, Peter scanned you to see that you had done a reasonably okay job at changing yourself. One pant leg was tucked into your sock, though, so he reached down and gently pulled it free, allowing the hem to loosely float around your ankle.
“Good job,” Peter murmured.
Pulling the quilt and sheets back, Peter readied the bed for your weary form. Eager for sleep, you moved yourself into the space Peter had made for you. Swiftly, Peter covered you back up with the quilt and tucked you in.
“There’s water and Aspirin on your bedside table,” he softly whispered.
You nodded and incoherantly mumbled a response that Peter assumed to mean ‘thank you’. Pleased you were safely in bed, Peter moved your desk bin beside your bed (just in case) and flicked off the light switch.
“Come to sleep, Pete,” you mumbled.
“I can’t,” he breathed. “Any other night, I will, but I can’t when you’re drunk. I’m sorry.”
You frowned but nodded, eyes still shut.
“Just please don’t leave, at least.”
“Of course not.” He reassured you.
And he didn’t leave.
After fetching his own change of clothes (borrowed from you, of course) and changing in the bathroom, he went to the small armchair in the corner of your room and sat down. He tucked himself into a ball so he could comfortably fit. It was tight, but the chair was soft and velvety, which made it at least bearable. Truth be told, he would’ve slept on the floor if he needed to.
Taking one final glance at your resting frame, he allowed his eyes to close and for his body to finally relax with one thought on repeat in his mind: Never leave her again.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
pairing: minho x fem!reader (sort of more platonic!newt x reader and minho bc it follow's newt but anyway) also slight newt x thomas sneak :P
summary: after minho makes a suggestive joke at dinner, newt spirals and thinks it's time to give you and minho a talk. or rather, the talk™.
warnings: suggestive themes + discussion of sex. all characters (aside from chuck) are written as 18+
word count: 3.7k
a/n: thomas is here but idgaf we aren’t doing the whole escape the maze drama in this. also, for anyone who hasn’t read the books: the box would bring up supplies every 7 days.
link to my masterlist: here!
The table was filled with the usual group, with Minho and Ben to your side, while Thomas, Newt and Chuck in front of you. The conversation was light yet lively, with Minho complaining about running the maze and how it wasn't necessary to do so each day, while giving pointed looks at Newt.
“I’ve got better things to do in the day, man.” Minho groaned.
“Like what, exactly?” Newt scoffed. “All you spend your time doing is hanging out with Y/n.”
“I think Y/n’s exactly what he wants to spend his time doing.” Ben laughed, causing Minho to burst out laughing.
You coughed a laugh, attempting not to spit out the water you were drinking with laughter. Thomas chuckled, grinning at Minho. Newt offered a small laugh, nodding along, until it hit him. The switch was patent. Sudden.
He looked up from his plate slowly, his eyes darting between your’s and Minho’s grinning faces. His face of slight amusement contorted to one of deep, deep contempt as his eyes locked on Minho’s.
“What’s so funny?” Chuck frowned, looking around at the gladers laughing.
“Nothing’s funny, Chuck.” Newt frowned.
“Here comes the fun police,” Minho rolled his eyes as he playfully nudged Ben.
Newt scowled.
“Take a joke, man. It wasn’t anything serious.” Minho groaned. “Just let it go.”
˚✶⋆. .⋆✶˚
But Newt did not let it go.
He hadn’t let it go after dinner had finished and plates had been cleared, nor when he attempted to fall asleep that night. He still hadn’t let it go when he woke up in the morning after a restless sleep, and proceeded to not let it go when he went to collect the box’s weekly deliveries.
As he and Alby sorted through the supplies in a comfortable silence, Newt stumbled upon something that he found to be very interesting.
There lay a book titled ‘The Dangers of Lust and the Values of Celibacy’.
Newt frowned.
Lust?
Celibacy?
Both words were unfamiliar. He was sure he had never heard either of the words spoken by any glader.
The Creators often sent up novels for the Gladers. Each was stored on a rickety wooden shelf in the Homestead for the Gladers to freely browse. Newt (having been a common visitor of said shelf) was sure there was something different about this novel. While most of the books were rectangular with soft, light beige paper, this book didn’t seem to hold any of those traits. It was oddly square, with shiny, bright white paper that felt like plastic.
Curiosity overtaking him, he flicked through the pages.
And oh, the horrors of what he found.
‘Natural urges.’
‘Desire.’
‘Pleasure.’
“Oh, goodness.” Newt quietly gaped in disgust.
“What was that?” Alby asked, turning to face Newt.
“Nothin’.” Newt hurriedly replied, quickly covering up the book with the surrounding novels. “Just gonna put these out in the Homestead.”
“Alright, I think we’re just about done.” Alby nodded, motioning to the gear in front of him. “I’ll just get Gally to collect his stuff. Make sure you take that list I gave you. You can give it to Thomas today so he can work on it tomorrow.”
“Yep, good that. I’ll uh… see you later then.” Newt replied, attempting to keep his cool before hurrying off in the direction of the Homestead, absentmindedly tucking the to-do list into the back of the book.
Turning back to make sure no one was watching, he made a sharp left in a mad beeline towards his hut. Shutting the door firmly behind him, he opened up the book, only to be greeted with horrifyingly graphic writings.
“Filthy.” Newt shook his head in dismay.
His eyes scanned the pages, attempting to absorb each word on the page. He could feel his frown deepening as he turned each awful page to an even worse one.
“Oh, dear,” Newt muttered to himself.
He proceeded to read the rest of the book in one sitting, unable to tear himself away from the horrors on the page. And just as he finished reading the last page from the book of nightmares, he heard a quick rap on his door. Slamming the book shut and madly shoving it underneath his pillow, he walked over to the door.
Swinging the door open, he was greeted with your smiling face.
“You ready for dinner? Frypan’s already served it. I got you a bowl, but it’s getting cold.”
“Yeah, of course he is.” You nodded, feeling a bit unsure about why he was bothering to ask, considering Minho had never once missed a dinner.
You frowned as you scanned Newt’s disposition. His face seemed pressed with concern, and his hands were fidgeting anxiously.
“You okay?” You asked.
“Yeah, ‘course.” Newt nodded, clearing his throat.
He needed to pull it together. He was the Second in Command. This was his responsibility. His duty.
“I need to talk to you two,” Newt spoke, stilling his hands as he stood tall.
“Uh… okay. Are you sure you’re okay?” You asked hesitantly.
“Yes. Let’s go.” Newt affirmed, striding through the doorway.
Feeling deeply confused and slightly concerned, you quickly followed after Newt, who was headed to your group’s usual bench. Only Thomas and Minho were sitting there, Chuck nowhere in sight.
“Tommy.” Newt nodded in greeting before turning to Minho with a stern look. “Minho.”
“Hey, Newt, where’ve you been?” Thomas asked through a mouthful of food.
“Reading,” Newt replied.
“Reading?” Minho scoffed with a grin. “And here I was thinking you couldn’t get any lamer.”
“I need to talk to you, Minho,” Newt replied, ignoring Minho’s remark.
“Oh-kay…” Minho stared up at Newt, raising his eyebrows expectantly. “Go on.”
“In private.” Newt clarified.
“In private?” Minho parroted with a confused frown.
“Yes.” Newt nodded firmly. “With Y/n.”
“Why can’t I hear?” Thomas asked with a confused frown.
“Yeah, why can’t my boy Tom come ‘nd listen?” Minho asked, genuine confusion laced in his words.
Newt held himself back from flinching at Minho’s mention of the word that he had just read one time too many in his book.
“It’s private,” Newt replied with an impatient sigh. “Can you just trust me, Minho?”
“Well, I can trust you, but it doesn’t seem like Thomas can.” Minho nodded pointedly towards Thomas. “How’s he supposed to trust you when you’re keeping secrets around him?”
“I’m not keeping secrets from him.” Newt gritted his teeth, growing more frustrated.
“Well, it seems you are.” Minho stared at Newt, feigning innocence. “I personally just don’t understand why Thomas is the only one who can’t know.”
“Sounds a bit rude of you, Newt. Thought we were meant to be a group?” Minho smirked.
Newt turned to face Thomas. While Minho was obviously just tugging Newt’s leg (as usual), Thomas seemed genuinely confused and slightly offended.
“It doesn’t involve Thomas; he doesn’t need to hear about this.” Newt heaved a deep sigh.
“Sounds mighty convenient to me.” Minho raised his eyebrows. “Does he not need to hear about this, or is he not allowed to hear it?”
Newt’s patience was wearing thin at this point.
“He can hear it if he wants,” Newt started through his clenched teeth, his voice exasperated and pointed. “Would you like to stay, Tommy?”
“Uh… well, I don’t have to stay.” Thomas stood up, feeling uncertain and torn between wanting to please Minho and wanting to not upset Newt.
“Just sit down.” Newt’s voice was stern and clearly frustrated.
“Right-io.” Thomas awkwardly replied, slouching back into his seat on the bench.
“Right-io?” Minho mocked, with his eyebrows raised. “Dude, I thought Newt was the lame one.”
“Slim it,” Thomas murmured, his face flushing with warmth.
“Right-io.” Minho repeated, his voice high-pitched as he shook his head in disbelief.
“Enough.” Newt frowned. “Please sit down, Y/n.”
You took a seat on the bench beside Minho, who sat opposite Newt. With Newt sitting alone on his side of the bench, it felt much like he was interviewing you, making you feel slightly nervous.
“What’s going on, Newt?” You asked.
“What’s going on is that Thomas is a massive slinthead-dork who uses nerd phrases like ‘right-io’.” Minho laughed, always ready to jump at the chance to make fun of his friends.
“Enough, man.” Thomas groaned. “It was a slip of the tongue.”
“Speaking of tongues…” Newt started, causing you, Thomas and Minho to simultaneously pull a face of disgust.
“Uck, I don’t think I like where this is going.” Minho grimaced, and Thomas nodded in agreement.
“Are we sure I have to be here?” You asked with a frown.
“It’s chill, you can leave,” Minho nodded firmly. “I’ll listen for you.”
You flashed him a grin, ready to stand up before Newt stopped you.
“No, this is to do with her. To do with both of you.” Newt began, taking a deep breath as he forced himself to speak. “And the… acts? that you’re committing.”
“Acts?” Minho repeated, raising his eyebrows. “What type of ‘acts’?”
“Sexual intercourse types of acts.”
You and Minho recoiled in repulsion, leaning away from the table. Thomas pursed his lips, attempting to conceal the disgusted face he was pulling.
“What’s sexual intercourse?” Chuck stood at the end of the table, seemingly coming from the kitchen to collect a second serving of dinner.
He cocked his head, looking between the Gladers awaiting his answer. The four of you looked back at him, frozen and at a loss for words.
“D’ya know what? I reckon I’m gonna eat with Chuck today. You three seem… find on your own.” Thomas coughed, rapidly standing up and grabbing Chuck by his elbow.
“Let’s go,” Thomas spoke, leading Chuck away.
“No, seriously, what is it? Why was everyone acting so weird?” Chuck prattled on as Thomas shushed him, tugging Chuck away by his elbow.
Newt heaved a sigh of frustration, watching the duo as they walked away. When he was sure they were out of ear-shot he turned to face you and Minho, who hadn’t seemed to move.
“Uh… is this necessary?” You asked, clearing his throat.
“I mean… It’s cool you’re curious and all, but I don’t really see why you need both of us to teach you about sex.” Minho added on. “I mean… I get you’re a confused virgin but this isn’t really something you need a group meeting for.”
“You certainly came to the right person, though.” Minho continued, raising his eyebrows with a wink.
Newt pulled back and scoffed.
“I’m not seeking advice, Minho. I’m giving it.”
“You?” You asked, with an uncertain look at him.
“Yes, me.”
“Do you… uh… actually know anything?” Minho looked around, attempting to conceal his smirk.
“Yes, I do actually.” Newt nodded, brushing off Minho’s obvious judgment.
“Well, this is news to me.” Minho grinned. “So tell me… Who was the lucky fella?”
Now that got a reaction from Newt. His stern and collected ‘leader’ disposition broke as he violently pulled back. His face was laced with shock.
“I didn’t do anything with any ‘fella’.” Newt seethed, verging on growling. “I read up on it.”
“Oh gross, Newt, I don’t want to hear about whatever smut you read in your free time. Keep that to yourself, man.” Minho frowned before adding with a smirk. “It’s chill that you’re into that, though. Didn’t expect you to be freaky like that. Hey, does Thomas know?”
You buried your head in your arms as you attempted to conceal your laughter.
Newt wasn’t sure how Minho managed to be so frustrating.
“This is serious, Minho.” Newt frowned. “I’m concerned about you guys’ behaviour. It’s a matter of safety.”
“Dude, I run a maze full of monsters every day. I don’t think safety is much of a concern here.” Minho retorted.
“Could you just slim it and listen?” Newt snapped, his voice firm.
“Geez, fine. Chill out.” Minho rolled his eyes, slumping into his seat.
He nudged you and gave you a wink, causing you to smile.
“This is serious, guys, there can be big consequences to those acts,” Newt spoke solemnly. “Those… sexual… acts.” You could just about feel Minho rolling his eyes from beside you at Newt’s dramatics.
“I know you think this is just some big joke, Minho, but how would you feel about raising a baby in the middle of this maze. I’m sure Y/n wouldn’t enjoy having to birth any baby in this place.”
This managed to shut both you and Minho up.
“I mean, imagine the pain of that. We don’t even have proper medical care here.” Newt continued, sensing he was finally getting through to you. “And the horrors of having to listen to a baby cry and whine and crawl around in this dangerous area.”
You and Minho both looked slightly stricken, which pleased Newt.
“Now, I’m not a total shuck-face, I don’t expect the two of you to not have… uh, urges.” Newt continued. “I mean, you run the maze every day, Minho, I’m sure that doesn’t do any favours for your… libido?”
Newt awkwardly scratched his head, raking a hand through his hair to try to regain his composure.
“But that’s why you should listen to the advice of this book. It has quite a clever line that I’m sure you’ll both appreciate.”
You were sure Minho wouldn’t appreciate Newt’s quote. In fact, you were sure Minho would mock it every chance he got.
“Here,” Newt spoke, clearing his throat as he pulled out a sticky note from his pocket before beginning to read off of it. “Listen to this: Wrap it, before you tap it.”
Your previous contempt was quickly lost. Minho inhaled sharply, and you poked your tongue through your cheek, both of you attempting to hold back your laughter.
“That’s a good one innit?” Newt nodded solemnly with pursed lips. “Let’s hear it again, hm?”
“Mmmmhmmmm,” Minho nodded with his eyes closed, gulping back a smirk.
“Wrap it…” Newt spoke slowly, as if this was it was sure the two of you would absorb it better. “Before… you tap it.”
You nodded stiffly as you grasped at your leg, desperately trying to keep a straight face. Surely Newt heard how ridiculous he sounded.
“Wow, Newt,” Minho spoke up, his voice feigning a kind tone. “That is just… remarkable. Really good stuff, right, Y/n?”
“Oh, definitely.” You choked out.
Apparently, Newt could see right through the two of you.
“I know it sounds a bit silly, but it’s good advice.” Newt nodded firmly, trying to ignore his cheeks burning.
“And what exactly is ‘it’ that I should be wrapping?” Minho asked, leaning forward and resting his head on his hands as he stared intently at Newt.
Newt’s face was completely flushed as he tried to think of an answer.
“Your, er… personal… male areas?” Newt winced.
“Oh, really?” You cocked your head.
“Yes.” Newt nodded firmly before adding a shy and ashamed, “Sorry.”
"And, what exactly should he be wrapping ‘it’ with?” You asked.
“Uh, well… there’s this product — I don’t suppose you’ve heard of it…” Newt started, feeling a bit stumped.
“Oh, no. I’ve heard of it.” You cut Newt off (which Newt was very grateful for).
“I mean, I do read novels afterall.” You explained.
This piqued Minho’s interest, causing him to turn to you before you got a chance to continue speaking.
“What novels are you reading?” He asked with a sceptical stare.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You shrugged him off, turning back to Newt. “Now, let’s let Newt talk; he’s educating us.”
“Are you reading funny books like Newt?” Minho pestered, his face a mix of amusement and intrigue.
“I think only Newt reads those books.”
“Pervert.” Minho coughed, looking at Newt.
“I’m not a pervert.” Newt frowned.
“I’d argue against that. I mean, you read this weird sex book and thought of your two friends while doing so.” Minho countered.
“Soley out of concern, mind you.” Newt seethed.
“Anyway,” you cut the two’s relentless bickering off. “I just meant, we don’t exactly have anything here that could be used to do any wrapping.”
“That’s a good point.” Minho nodded.
“Hm,” Newt’s brows furrowed. “Well, maybe the Creators will send some stuff up when they think the two of you are ready.”
“Gross.” You frowned.
“Puh-lease. They’re not our shuck parents.” Minho scoffed. “I don’t need their approval or nuthin’.”
“I’m not saying that, I just mean maybe the two of you aren’t ready.”
“And what if we are?” You countered with a pointed look.
“Are you?” Newt pulled back with a frown.
“Nun’ya buisness.” Minho scoffed.
“Look, I just want the two of you to be safe.” Newt sighed conclusively. “I don’t want either of you to get hurt or feel unsafe. I’m sayin’ this as your friend. D’you think I want to be talking about this with you lot?”
As you looked at Newt’s face of genuine concern, you couldn’t help but feel a bit bad that you and Minho were behaving so rudely. He did seem to honestly care and just want what’s best for you.
“Thanks, Newt,” you spoke with a small smile.
“Yeah, thanks.” Minho offered, his voice less harsh.
“And I certainly don’t want any babies strutting around the maze,” Newt added.
“Yeah, I don’t think anyone wants that.” Minho agreed.
Newt nodded, seemingly relaxing more now.
“So just please, don’t rush nuthin’. And make sure both of you are comfortable — both of you gotta say a clear and willing yes. Nun’ o’ that ‘but they didn’t say no’ clunk.” Newt continued. “A clear, happy ‘yes’.”
“Got it.” You said.
“Understood,” Minho affirmed.
“Good that.” Newt smiled to himself slightly, feeling glad the two of you were behaving more seriously now. “Protection’s a must, though. I don’t think Jeff and Clint are quite qualified enough to perform an abortion or to guide anyone through labour.”
“Right.” You nodded.
“I think that’s about it.” Newt finished before adding on: “And you can come to me if you needa talk about anything.”
“Yeah, I won’t be doing that.” Minho scoffed.
“Well, it’s an offer.” Newt shrugged.
“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Newt,” Minho shot him a smile before standing up and clapping his hand on Newt’s shoulder. “It’s kinda chill that you’re like a walking sex encyclopedia now.
“Uh, yeah, thanks,” Newt replied hesitantly, feeling slightly unsure if that was a compliment or not.
“Thanks, Newt,” you shot him a smile through pursed lips. “It’s sweet you care.”
That you did mean, you knew it must’ve been difficult for Newt to talk to the two of you (especially considering Minho’s sass problem).
“’Course,” Newt replied. “Alright, well I’ll go find Tommy — make sure he’s not saying anything crazy to Chuck.”
”Good that.” Minho nodded as Newt got up to leave.
As Newt limped off in the direction Thomas had gone, Minho turned back to face you, a grin of deep amusement splayed across his face.
“D’ya know what? That coulda been a whole lot worse.”
“That was pretty bad.” You winced.
“Yeah, well, just imagine if it had been Alby.” Minho laughed.
“Now that would’ve been awful.” You agreed.
“Can you imagine?” Minho grinned. “He would’ve just given us a long lecture on biology and how now’s not the time to be doing anything like sex.”
“D’you reckon Newt would’ve said anything to Alby?” You asked.
“Newt? Puh-lease. He’s just about the most awkward person ever.” Minho scoffed. “There’s no chance Newt would go to Alby.”
“That’s a good point, he is pretty awkward.”
˚✶⋆. .⋆✶˚
Epilogue:
Newt rifled through his room, looking for the to-do list Alby had written and given to Newt and demanded that he pass it on to Thomas. While Newt’s room was very neat and he claimed himself to be organised, he somehow had managed to lose the slip of paper Alby gave him.
“When’d you last see it?” Thomas asked, lingering by Newt’s doorframe as he waited.
“I dunno, when he gave it to me I guess… I just remember him giving it to me.” Newt frowned with confusion.
He heaved a sigh as he took a step back from the set of drawers he had been searching through. That’s when it dawned on him.
He had left it in his book.
His very embarrassing sex book.
And even worse, he had left it in his bed. As if it were some bedtime story he read each night!
“Do you remember?” Thomas asked, seemingly picking up on Newt’s look of realisation.
“Uh… yeah.” Newt coughed, unsure how to kick Thomas out of the room.
He looked over to Thomas, who was patiently looking over at Newt with curiosity.
Newt heaved a sigh. There was no way he could tell Thomas to politely get out, so he resorted to the next best option: pulling the book out and opening it up as quickly as possible and before Thomas had the chance to see the title or cover page.
Doing just that, Newt’s sudden movement caused Thomas to flinch and move forward with curiosity.
“What book’s that?” Thomas asked, looking over at Newt, who was flicking through the pages trying to find which pages held the list.
“Just some old book,” Newt brushed Thomas off.
Thomas frowned with uncertainty at Newt’s oddly vague response.
Breathing a sigh of relief as he finally found the list sandwiched between the two last pages, Newt grabbed the list and slammed the book shut before pushing it under the covers on his bed.
“Here you go,” Newt handed Thomas the list.
Thomas scanned Newt’s rosy face and flustered facial expression before he reached for the book.
Newt’s shoulders sagged as Thomas pulled out the book.
“The Dangers of Lust and the Value of Celibacy.” Thomas read out with a frown, turning up to face Newt. “What’s this?”
“Nothing.” Newt rushed, his voice faltering.
“What’s sel-i-becky?” Thomas’s eyebrows knitted with curiosity.
“Nothing important.” Newt shot Thomas a shy grin as he grabbed the book out of Thomas’s hands.
“Can I read it? Is it good?” Thomas asked, and Newt had to hold himself back from rolling his eyes with frustration.
“No thanks!” Newt hurried, snatching the book back. “It’s bad, going in the bin.”
“The bin? Uh, okay then.” Thomas slowly nodded before heading out of Newt’s hut. “See ya’ then.”
“Yep, later. Bye.” Newt called out.
As Thomas closed the door behind him, Newt couldn’t help but groan to himself, sighing and flopping back on his bed.
summary: when steve rogers is alerted to the fact that you are failing physics, he recruits fellow avenger peter parker to tutor you. eager to avoid studying, you decide to offer peter kissing lessons.
themes: fluff, suggestive themes but nothing crazy, poor explanation of physics on my behalf
warnings: (accidentally) suggestive innuendos and kissing
word count: 4.3k
a/n: it is painfully evident i know nothing about physics and gained all the information from some random website so don’t mind all the inaccuracies.
masterlist link: here!
It was at an Avengers Family Dinner™ when Tony Stark decided to embarrass you.
"So Y/n, Spiderling says you guys got your physics tests back," Tony started, causing your dad to sit up with curiosity. "Did you happen to do as well as the kid over here?"
Peter's cheeks warmed at the compliment while you internally groaned as you tried to think of an answer that was as vague as possible.
"Depends how well the kid did," you mused, stabbing at the lettuce with your unusually blunt fork.
"30/30 – 100%," Stark said with a grin, over-emphasising the percentage.
"Very impressive, Peter." You muttered.
"Thanks Y/n, I'm sure you did very well," He replied with a nod.
You felt a tinge of guilt for not being happier for Peter, so you gave him a smile.
"Are you happy with your result, Y/n?" Steve asked, causing your smile to immediately drop.
Despite his phrasing putting up a barrier against the comparison between you and Peter that Tony so clearly wanted to make, you weren't exactly happy to have the attention brought back to you.
"Perhaps not my best, but it was definitely a result." You nodded, attempting to sound casual.
"So, you failed, huh?" Sam not-so helpfully cut in.
"More or less," you winced, Steve already sighing with what you assumed was a mix of disappointment and frustration. "But there will definitely be plenty more physics tests to come which I won't fail, so all will be fine."
"You can't keep leaving studying until the last minute, Y/n. You're a smart kid, you just need to put in the effort." Steve sighed. "Pete, when did you start studying?"
And there went the barrier against comparing you and Peter.
"Uhh, well you know I think when you study it really just depends on the person and what study method is best for them, with consideration of their individual learning style and-"
"So, you started ages ago." Bucky gruffly interrupted, his head looking down at his plate while he cut the meat on his plate.
"More or less," Peter admitted awkwardly. "But really, I'm sure that she just did what worked best for her."
"Exactly," You pointed your fork over at Peter, looking pointedly at your dad. "If I had of started early I would have just forgotten it all by the time the test came. It would've been a waste of my time."
Steve closed his eyes as he sighed. He did feel bad lecturing you, but he wasn't sure how else to get through to you. He knew you were a good student — you just so happened to struggle a bit with physics. But he firmly believed you had the potential to do well in physics if you put in just the slightest bit more effort.
"Okay, when's the next physics test then?" He asked.
You looked up to Peter, searching for an answer. Picking up that you had no clue, he quickly jumped in.
"Not for another three weeks."
"Well," Steve clapped his hands together. "Peter, how would you feel about tutoring Y/n for the upcoming physics test? Maybe just a study session every now and then — Tuesday and Friday nights perhaps?"
"Dad, seriously?" You groaned, feeling slightly embarrassed he had decided to pull Peter in to watch you miserably fail at physics. "Peter probably has better things to do than just waste time tutoring me, especially on a Friday night."
"No, no," Peter jumped in quickly. "I'd be more than happy sir, I-I'd love to help out."
He cleared his throat. “I really have nothing on like ever."
That certainly provoked a reaction from the team. Wanda tutted with sympathy, tilting her head as though she was looking at a sick puppy. Meanwhile, Natasha not-so subtly coughed back a laugh as Thor clutched at his stomach as he barked a laugh.
"You earthlings can be so pathetic at times!" Peter knew Thor didn't have cruel intentions, but the Asgardian’s words made his face burn with embarrassment.
Peter's declaration of lameness even arose a reaction from the typically stoic Bucky, who was now smirking down at his plate as Sam elbowed him with a wide grin. Realising he was coming off as deeply pathetic, Peter rushed to correct himself.
"I-I mean it's not that I don't have plans, it's just that they can be rearranged," Feeling as though he had successfully saved face, Peter relaxed. "I mean what's more important than Y/n right?"
“Reel it in, kid.” Tony murmured to Peter.
Grinning with delight, Sam turned over to Bucky. "Are you hearing this, Buck?"
Hating this conversation and starting to hate himself for even opening his mouth in the first place, Peter attempted to cover with absolutely anything he could think of.
"I meant her studying was important, just because studying in general is important." Peter winced. "For like... our future and stuff?"
This received a confused (and deeply judgemental) frown from majority of the table.
"Now, that's the attitude that kids should be having these days," Bruce nodded with an enthusiastic smile.
Peter smiled weakly, nodding before turning down to look at his plate as the Avengers chuckled to themselves.
˚✶⋆. .⋆✶˚
Currently, you were laid on your back on your bed with your head leaning off the bed's edge. Blood was rushing to your head in a way that when you finally did sit up you were certain you would immediately get dizzy. Peter was set to arrive any moment and you were dreading the mass of school work you would be forced to face.
The sound of footsteps and rustling by your room’s door caught your attention. Still laying down, you turned your eyes to the clock on your desk, squinting your eyes as you attempting to read it upside down. Giving up and figuring it was in fact Peter at the door, you sat up.
You could hear slight mumbling behind the door and knew it was Peter who had the bad habit of talking to himself when he was nervous**.** Deciding to put him out of his misery you walked to the door and swung it open with a smile.
"Hi, Pete." You offered him a warm smile.
He looked up from the ground to meet your eyes, eyes wide as if he were a deer caught in headlights.
“Hi— hey,” his voice cracked, causing him to wince as he attempting to clear his throat. “Hey Y/n.”
His cheeks had a soft, rosy tinge to them, pairing well with the freckles scattered across his face. He smiled at you nervously, clutching the thick cluster of books that laid in his arms. The sight of the mass of books reminded you what you were about to be expected to do for hours to come. You moved away from the door frame, providing Peter with the space to walk through into your room.
“So, the next test is on electromagnetism, and it covers the motion of charged particles, the motor effect and electromagnetic induction,” Peter rambled as you took the books from his arm, placing them on the desk. “So is there any of that stuff that you maybe are unsure about? I thought we could start on what you find most difficult, y’know?”
You heaved a sigh, as much as you loved spending time with Peter, you certainly hated that the time was about to be spent on something as boring and dull as physics. You dropped onto the armchair positioned by your desk, immediately slumping into the soft cushion of the cream chair. Peter pulled out the chair from your desk so to sit by you.
“I dunno, like all of it? I don’t even know what electromagnetic-prism is.” You sighed.
“Electromagnetism,” Peter corrected, giving you a small smile.
“Yeah,” you waved him off. “That.”
“Well, that’s okay,” Peter spoke, his voice soft. “It’s tricky.”
“You know what it is though.” You mumbled, your eyes downturned to your nails as you mindlessly picked at your nail beds.
“It took me a while.”
You nodded, not quite believing him.
“Y’know,” you turned to Peter. “We don’t have to study physics. My dad wouldn’t even know.”
Peter was hesitant. He desperately wanted you to like him and he had a dreadful feeling that forcing you to study physics would drive you away running. But on the other hand, it was the Captain America who had requested that he tutored you. And he felt that disappointing his teammate who held significant authority over him was not the way to go. Also, he wasn’t exactly keen to make his crush’s father hate him.
Meeting in the middle, he tried to come up with a solution that seemed the safest.
“I mean, I wouldn’t want to let down Captain America you know…” His voice trailed off, scared to disappoint you. “But we can just study a little. Then we can do something you consider fun.”
You scrunched your nose up in disapproval but hesitantly nodding your head.
“Alright,” Peter opened his textbook, the plastic crackling as the book’s spine bent. “How about we start with looking at the motor effect. I can go over some of the basics and we can make some cue cards while we go?”
“Alright,” you hummed, not overly pleased with how your Friday night seemed to be panning out to be. Not seeing much of an out, you succumb to your painful fate and opened up your workbook, heaving a tired sigh.
˚✶⋆. .⋆✶˚
Two hours later and you were still learning about physics. Peter was getting into to a theatrical extent, now standing and utilising a whiteboard you had stolen from Tony. You had stolen it because you found it fun to draw on, so Peter using it to write out equations was doing it a disservice.
While Peter ranted about physics (clearly comfortable now that he was in his element), you were lounged on your bed, laying on your stomach and propped by your elbows as you rested your chin in your hands. With your head positioned at the foot of your bed, you looked at Peter pointing at Tony’s precious whiteboard as though you were watching a movie. That is, a very boring movie that was excessively long and should’ve never been made.
To say you weren’t interested would be an understatement. Thankfully, Peter was too caught up in the physics work to realise you were not paying attention.
While he did try and keep you engaged by asking you questions every now and then. It was easy to divert his attention away from you by offering a shrug and letting him answer the question for you.
You had taken advantage of his lack of attention towards you by turning to the stash of sweets tucked away in your bedside table to occupy yourself. Currently, you were incredibly busy mentally ranking each of the flavours you had tried.
Currently, a green-apple Jolly Rancher was in the lead, with the roll of Love Notes ****pulling in at a close second. But you had a feeling the blue-raspberry lollipop you were currently unwrapping would ultimately take first place.
Peter frowned with confusion as he looked at his working out on the board, tapping his foot rhythmically as he bit at his lip. While he did that, you tried the lollipop and decided it was easily the best of your supply of sweets.
Looking down at your nails you decided they could do with some nail polish and just as you were about to reach for the nail polish on your bed side table, a rapping at the door captured both yours and Peter’s attention.
“It’s just me,” Steve called out from behind the door.
You heaved a sigh as you sat up from your bed and went to open the door.
“Hi, Dad,” you smiled.
Steve gave you a warm smile and ruffled your hair as he walked in.
“Just came to check in on how the studying’s going,” Steve said.
“Going super well,” you replied with a cheeky grin. “Been learning heaps thanks to Peter.”
This caused Peter to blush.
“Looks like you guys are covering lots,” Steve affirmed, looking at Peter’s mess of scribbles on the board. “Good on you two, I’m very proud of you Y/n.”
“Thanks, sooo does that mean I’m done here?” You asked Steve eagerly.
“Actually we’ve still got a lot more i wanted to cover with you,” Peter responded, seemingly oblivious to your desperation to be done with physics.
You groaned, knowing your father would never let you go now.
“Keep working at it, Y/n. You’ll get it soon enough.” Steve nodded, turning to look at Peter. “Don’t let her attitude bring you down, Peter. It’s important Y/n learns this stuff and she needs a good tutor to help push her to achieve the success i know she’s capable of. I really want you on top of her, okay?”
Peter could just about feel his heart still at this comment. Steve smiled warmly at Peter, appearing completely oblivious to his innuendo.
“Don’t be afraid to ride her,” Steve clapped Peter on the shoulder. “Hard.”
Peter was certain all the air in the room had been sucked out. If Peter hadn’t been too scared to even look in your direction, he would’ve seen you grinning at Peter’s obvious discomfort and Steve’s ignorance.
“Yea—,” Peter’s voice cracked. “Yeah. Of course, Mr Rogers, of course.”
Steve gave the two of you a thumbs up as he made his way back to the door. Feeling proud of his words of inspiration and certain that he had finally gotten through to you, Steve exited your room, gently clicking the door shut behind him.
Peter anxiously dragged a now slightly shaky hand through his caramel-coloured curls in an attempt to recover his composure. Feeling completely self-conscious and faintly sweaty, Peter cleared his throat.
All of a sudden, you were feeling inspired and completely energised.
“So,” Peter’s voice was high-pitched, immediately giving away just how nervous he was. “I guess we should go back to physics.”
“You haven’t had your first kiss right?” You abruptly answered, blatantly ignoring his suggestion.
Peter looked over at you with surprise, the tips of his ears burning red with embarrassment at the exposure.
“Wha-, uh… pffft,” Peter stumbled over his words, scoffing in an attempt to act casual. “What, uh… what makes you think that?”
He winced at how high pitched his voice came out, resting his weight on his left leg and putting his hand up to rest on the whiteboard awkwardly. He had intended to look as if he was casually leaning against the wall, but instead found the position made him look even more awkward and definitely like someone who had never been kissed despite being 18.
“Because I know you haven’t kissed someone,” you shrugged. “MJ said it to you at your locker like a week ago.”
Desperate to try and appear even slightly cool to you Peter looked for an out.
“What are you like stalking me or something?” Peter coughed out a laugh.
“Our lockers are right next to each other, Peter.” You deadpanned.
Peter heaved a sigh, standing back up straight with drooped shoulders.
“Alright, so I haven’t kissed anyone,” Peter admitted, waving his hands up. “What’s the big deal?”
“No, no. It’s not a big deal at all,” you hurried, the last thing you wanted to do was make Peter feel bad.
You slowly walked back over to the foot of your bed again before perching yourself on the edge and facing Peter. Peter began to feel awkward with his stance, continuously shifting his weight from each leg. He looked down at you, his brown eyes coated in curiosity.
“Are you nervous?” You asked, looking up at Peter through your eyelashes.
Peter felt like his knees might just buckle under your gaze. It was nearly impossible to read your facial expression.
“I don’t know,” Peter mumbled, trying to figure out if there was a way he could subtly wipe the sweat that had begun to form on his palms.
You raised your eyebrows slightly and Peter felt like you were pulling the answer out of him. It really wasn’t fair on him that you were this pretty, yet he was expected to act completely cool and collected in front of you.
“Maybe a little.” Peter admitted.
“Want me to teach you?” your mouth quirked into a grin as you cocked your head to the side.
Peter was sure he would faint right then and there.
“What?” Peter breathed out, his voice impossibly quiet as though simply saying that word took every ounce of air left in his lungs.
“I can teach you how to kiss someone.” You shrugged.
“You mean like tell me what to do?” Peter asked, his eyes wide and waiting.
“No,” you started, reaching your hand out to grab his. “I mean that I’ll kiss you.”
You gently pulled at Peter’s hand so he was brought closer to the bed.
“And you’ll kiss me back.” You finished. “And you’ll see what it’s like to kiss someone.”
Peter quickly moved over to your bed, sitting beside you.
“Do you want to?” You asked him.
“What about physics?”
Peter was certain he was the stupidest person ever. Here he was, sitting beside his crush who just offered to kiss him, and he brought up physics of all things. And worse of all, the crush in question didn’t even like physics!
“I just mean like your father expects us to be studying, you know?” Peter hurried.
Peter mentally kicked himself for sounded so painfully lame.
“This is like basically studying physics,” you justified. “It’s like gravity, motion, whatever.”
“Err, yeah, I guess you’re right.” Peter nodded hesitantly, attempting to conceal his confused frown.
“We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” You leaned back, your eyes softening.
“No, no, I definitely want to,” Peter rushed. “In like… a normal way?”
Peter could see your eyebrows beginning to pull into an uncertain frown and Peter groaned a sigh of frustration with himself. Why couldn’t he just speak in a ‘normal way’?
“Uh, okay.” You replied, waiting for Peter to continue.
“It’s just, what if I’m bad?” Peter murmured lamely, his shoulders sagging.
“That’s why I’m teaching you. It doesn’t matter if you’re bad because you’re not trying to impress me.”
He desperately wanted to impress you.
“Oh, right.” Peter nodded, not at all convinced.
“So do you want to?”
“Yeah, yeah. Alright.” Offering him another wide grin, you shuffled onto the middle of your bed, crossing your legs as he mirrored your position.
“You ready?” You asked with a teasing smile. ”What now?” Peter frowned, taken aback.
Surely, you weren’t expecting to just jump into it so quickly, he couldn’t help but wonder.
“Aren’t we supposed to like… do something before? Like… foreplay?” Peter struggled through his sentence awkwardly.
“It’s a kiss,” you spluttered through laughter. “It’s like… fore-foreplay.”
Peter was sure he was the stupidest person alive right now.
“Well I don’t know.” Peter heaved.
“It’s okay Pete, that’s why I’m teaching you.” You grinned, attempted to compose yourself.
He loved it when you said that. Pete. Plenty of people called him that, but it felt different when the nickname fell from your lips. It felt soft and gentle, as if the name meant more than any other words could.
“Peter?” You nudged him, pulling him away from his thoughts.
Not only was he stupid, but he was sure he was also delusional.
He rolled his shoulders back, attempting to recollect himself.
“Yeah,” Peter cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m ready.”
You nodded as Peter looked around the room hesitantly.
“Can we like… at least put some music on?” He asked, flexing his hands nervously.
“Are you sure you wanna do this?” You frowned.
Peter sat up straight with alarm.
“No! No, I do want to.” He hurried, his eyes widened. “I definitely want to do it.”
You raised your eyebrows at him, questioningly.
“By ‘it’ I mean kiss,” Peter clarified.
Man, he was nervous.
“You’re sure?” You asked, tilting your head towards his.
“Oh, 100%.” His nodded eagerly.
“Alright,” you lilted, reaching for the CD player sitting on your desk.
You flicked the play button, Kisses of Fire by Abba beginning to play.
“Better?” you asked, flashing a grin.
“Yeah.” Peter murmured, his voice cracking slightly.
“Alright,” you nodded. “So basically, all you have to do is lean in and kiss. Keep your eyes closed, obviously and just sort of… press your lips with the top one above mine so it’s like you’re almost kissing just the top lip.”
Peter scrunched up his face, trying to subtly mimic the motion you had described. You had to stifle a laugh as his lips moved against the air.
“Got it?” You asked.
“Yeah, I think so,” Peter answered, pausing before continuing. “What do I do with my hands?”
“Well this position is kind of awkward,” You mused. “I mean, I guess maybe you’d put your hands on my thighs, but that’s kind of… intense for just practise.”
“Right.” Peter nodded, feeling his face flush at the suggestion.
“Just shuffle closer,” you started, moving towards him. “Then just, wrap your arms around my waist and I’ll put mine around your shoulders.”
“Okay, yeah…” Peter nodded. “That sounds right.”
Your knees touched, and it felt like a zap rushed across your legs. You grinned at him, a sense of nervousness hitting you.
“Ready?” You nudged his knee, causing Peter to blush.
“Yeah, yeah…” Peter nodded quickly. “Should I be… initiating it?”
“If you’d like.” You shrugged, your eyes staring at his intently.
“Okay,” Peter nodded, licking his lips. “3… 2…”
Peter hesitated, looking at the laugh you were poorly trying to conceal.
“I’m not gonna count down,” Peter shook his head. “That feels weird.”
“Maybe that’s a good idea.” You smiled.
“Yeah,” Peter nodded. “Okay… yeah.”
“Yeah.” You mimicked. “Do you want me to initiate it?”
“Uh, maybe just this once please.” Peter heaved a sigh, before realising what he said. “Not that it’ll happen again.”
“I mean, it might happen again, if you want it to but-” Peter was rambling again, on the very verge of spiralling.
The rambling stopped just as quickly as it started as you moved your arms around his neck.
“Hey.” Peter murmured, his eyes wide and eager.
“Hi, Pete.” You smiled, your tone matching his. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” he nodded, taking a deep breath as he moved his arms around your waist. “I’m ready.”
And with his decisive nod, you lent in and touched your lips against his. The kiss was soft and delicate in a way that made his lips buzz. His hands clutched at your waist, apprehensive but eager.
His lips were warm but hesitant against yours. You gently moved them against Peter’s, careful to not overwhelm him with too much too soon.
You gently pressed his mouth open, allowing your tongue to dart across his. Peter was met with the taste of blue raspberry, which mixed smoothly with the minty taste of toothpaste that lingered on his breath.
His hands delicately moved against your waist as you brought your hands up to his hands, letting your fingers be entangled in his soft curls. His tongue felt abuzz against yours.
He never dared to dream he would be able to kiss you like this. It was apprehensive yet held a sense of rhythm. The two of you were connected, your minds dizzy and array at the feeling of one another.
You inched closer to Peter, your knees resting on top of his, aching to be closer but feared crossing a line with Peter. Amidst the sound of music in the background, you could hear soft grunts elicited from Peter.
You could feel Peter gaining confidence, his tongue darting across yours as he inched closer. His hands were warm against your back as he caressed your back.
He was addicted to the feeling of your lips against yours, he was sure it would be impossible to stop. Now that he got as taste of what it was like to be so close to you, he was sure he would always need it.
You felt warm, the boredom of physics homework leaving your mind. Sensing Peter growing hungry for more, you leaned in further, nearly sitting in his lap. The two of you both could feel the moment growing stronger, more intense.
You reminded yourself this was Peter’s first kiss. You were supposed to be teaching him. Not seducing him. It was that lingering reminder that made you pull away from Peter.
Peter looked flushed, his face rosy and his hair mussed. His lips were glistening and glossy in a way that made you regret ever pulling away.
He cleared his throat as you smoothed your ruffled clothes, erasing any evidence that Peter’s hands had been pressed against you mere moments ago.
“Thank you for teaching me,” Peter offered, shyly.
“So?” You prompted, looking at Peter with awaiting eyes. “What’d you think?”
He had to stop the urge to whine and ask why you pulled away.
“It was… good,” he offered, eager to sound cool. “I liked it.”
You grinned at him.
“You were very good,” you mused. “Almost like you’ve been kissing for years.”
Peter grinned gratefully.
“You were also very good,” Peter smiled shyly. “Very good.”
“Thanks, Pete.” You laughed. “Maybe next time I’ll teach you how to ride me hard, just like Steve demanded.”
Peter choked on his breath, coughing as he attempted to catch his breath.
“I was kidding.” You clarified, nudging him gently.
“Oh, yeah. Of course.” Peter bowed his head with embarrassment, nervously laughing as he subtly tugged at his shorts.
summary: when the heat in the glade hits an all time high, the runners are assigned to help out around the glade. you do not take well to being assigned to help out the builders (part 1). as nighttime falls and the glade's heatwave persists, gally eagerly begrudgingly joins you for a swim in the glade's lake (part 2).
a/n: this is set in the movies, where the glade is outside and not undergound. also beetleblades don't exist in this because they're freaky and disturbing and killing a fun time
warnings: suggestive themes, kissing etc. (no smut though)
word count: approx. 6.4k
for part 1: click here!
for my masterlist: click here!
“I told you that you can have the day off already,” Gally grumbled as you approached him.
Beads of sweat lined his forehead, and his knuckles were white from his tight grip on the hammer he was currently holding. His injured hand was pressed firmly against the wood (haha) he had been aggressively hitting before you interrupted him.
You had to admit it was quite the sight.
His sweat had seeped through his green tank, making it cling to his body in a disgustingly attractive manner. His hair was ruffled; clearly, he had run his hand through it repeatedly (probably in frustration).
His eyes bore into you and made you question why you even dared to approach him. It also made you question how someone's eyes could be so pretty. You always thought his eyes were a faded blue colour – nearing grey. But against his green shirt, you were starting to doubt your initial perception.
Currently, they looked green and dark, staring into you with such depth you forgot why you even approached him.
Your eyes scanned down to his arms. Veins protruded from his tanned arms, which were currently glistening with sweat. You hadn’t noticed until now how his biceps were becoming more muscular. Sure, he was still sort of lanky (in an endearing way), but there was definitely more prominent muscle there.
Before you could lose yourself even further in contemplating his sudden muscles, your thoughts were interrupted by Gally.
“What are you staring at?” Gally frowned, clearly feeling judged.
This definitely pulled you out of your daze as you scowled at the accusation.
“I wasn’t staring.” You scoffed.
“Yes, you were.”
“Was not.”
“Are you kidding? You couldn’t have made it more obvious if you held up a magnifying glass to me.” Gally rolled his eyes.
You glared at him. You could feel your cheeks warming rapidly from him calling you out for your behaviour.
Seemingly sensing your discomfort, a look of amusement crept up on Gally’s face, his mouth beginning to twitch into a smirk.
“You checkin’ me out?” Gally smirked.
Apparently, Gally’s awful mood had been replaced with a feeling of deep satisfaction in your suffering.
You gaped, taken aback by his accusation.
Since when had Gally become as cocky as Minho?
“Your arrogance is staggering.” You glowered.
Gally shrugged you off.
“Yeah, well, next time, do a better job of pretending to come over here for something other than starin’ at me all lovey-dovey.” Gally’s eyes locked in with yours, almost as though he was challenging you.
Your feeling of frustration was rapidly increasing at Gally’s embarrassing accusation.
The most embarrassing part was that he was right.
You had been checking him out. It wasn’t your fault; the heat seemed to bring the best out of him.
“I’m just kiddin’, y’know?” Gally cut off your thought process.
“Oh. Right.”
It was true that Gally had been kidding.
Well, partially true.
For a moment, when he looked up to find your eyes scanning his body, he really thought he might have a chance with you.
That was shot down immediately when he caught your eyesight tracing over his arms.
Gally wasn’t usually one to wear tank tops.
He usually wore long sleeves, which he would just push up when it got too hot. But it was sweltering today, and he figured his earlier outburst had scared you off from coming near him. So he had changed into a green tank he had found scrunched up in the corner of his clothing drawer.
But when he saw how your eyes fixated on his arms, he began to deeply regret his situation and realised he had to put a stop to your staring for good.
So yes, for the briefest of moments, he had thought you might be checking him out. But that thought was shot down pretty quickly.
And based on the look of annoyance on your face when he had made the accusation of you checking him out in an attempt to cool the awkwardness he thought had been lingering between you, you were clearly not impressed at the idea of you being attracted to him.
“So, was there a reason you came here?” Gally coughed, feeling more awkward than before.
“Yes… yes. There was.” You felt unsure, beginning to doubt your idea to attempt to make friends with Gally. “Just wanted to check how your hand was doin’.”
Gally squinted at you, clearly doubting your reasoning.
“It’s fine.” He replied, his voice gruff.
“Is that all?” He looked at you expectantly when you made no indication of leaving.
“Don’t look too eager,” you scowled.
“I’ve got work to do, Y/n,” Gally replied, clearly unimpressed with your attitude. “Which you’re apparently incapable of doing.”
“Oh, I’m very capable of doing work.” You glared at him. “Just didn’t want you to get used to working hard around here. Your builders have clearly set a low standard for what’s considered working.”
You gave a pointed nod over to the builders who were currently cheering as a pair of them attempted to wrestle one another. You were actually surprised to find Gally working and not in the middle of the fight. Gally tended to be the one to initiate a fight, so it was certainly unusual to find him isolated and working alone.
“Didn’t know you were such an incompetent leader,” you started, completely ready to forget the prospect of ever attempting to become friends with him. “What happened to big, scary leader Captain Gally?” As you expected, this got a rise out of Gally, who dropped the hammer he had been using and turned to face you with a glare.
“I’ll have you know I permitted them to stop working.” Gally spat.
“Wow, that’s a shocking act of kindness that I wouldn’t have expected from you.” You raised your eyebrows.
“I can be nice, you know.” Gally snapped.
“Oh, I know. You were pretty nice to me this morning,” you mused. “This is, until you suddenly stormed off when I was just trying to talk to you.”
“I didn’t storm off,” Gally replied defensively.
You rolled your eyes, mindlessly kicking at the dirt with your feet.
Unimpressed with your reaction, Gally scoffed.
“Look, it’s boiling outside, and we’re ahead of work. I’m not gonna make ‘em work just for the sake of working.” Gally retorted, clearly exasperated. “I’m not Alby.”
A sense of pride washed over him when he noticed his comment evoked a laugh from you. It was soft and barely audible, but it was definitely still a laugh.
“Yeah, Alby sure can be a pain,” you grinned, feeling the angry tension between the two of you beginning to melt away. “Can’t believe he gave the runners a day off ‘cause of the heat just to assign us different work.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t say I was too surprised when he asked the Keepers which runners they wanted working with them,” Gally replied.
“I thought Alby assigned us.” You frowned.
“He did, but he asked the Keepers who wanted help and which runners they wanted an’ stuff,” Gally explained.
This caught your attention.
“Wait, you asked Alby to assign me to the builders?” You spluttered. “Everyone knows I’d be awful working as a builder.”
“What? No, I didn’t.” Gally faltered, hoping you couldn’t see the blush forming across his cheeks.
His attempt to play off his previous remark was weak and completely futile – a mere white noise over your racing thoughts.
“Why did you ask me to work with you and the builders?” You looked at him curiously, ignoring his attempt to refute your accusation.
“Just that no one else would take you.” Gally shrugged.
You frowned at him with mock indignation.
“Not even, Frypan?” you challenged.
“Nope.”
“Not even Zar–?” you started before Gally cut you off.
“Nope, no one. Sorry, I was the only one willing to put up with you.” Gally smirked.
“Hilarious.” You rolled your eyes.
“Anyway,” Gally started, eager to move on before you realised the real reason why he wanted you to work for him. “My point is that it doesn’t really surprise me too much that Alby had the runners still working.”
“Doesn’t let us do anything fun.” You heaved a sigh. “Last time it was this hot, he wouldn’t even allow Minho and I to swim in the lake when we asked him.”
“Why would you even want to swim in that lake? It’s probably filthy.” Gally scrunched up his nose with a frown.
“It was perfectly clean and very refreshing.”
Gally looked at you curiously before realisation dawned on him.
“You didn’t.”
You smirked. “Are you kidding? Of course I did.”
Gally forced himself not to scowl at the idea of you swimming with Minho.
“You swam in the lake?” Gally asked accusingly.
“We’ve swum in the lake a few times, actually.”
“How’d you even do that without Alby noticing?” Gally asked, attempting to stifle his annoyance that you had gone swimming with Minho.
He knew the two of you were friends. But he also knew how flirty Minho liked to get – which he hated. He especially hated how you seemed to be the main target of Minho’s flirting.
“We went at night, it was still sweltering then – even with the sun down.” You replied. “It’ll probably be like that again tonight.”
“Seems that way,” Gally muttered.
“Besides, the lake is buried deep within the Deadheads; it’s far away from Alby’s hut.” You added.
“Are you trying to tell me you’ve seriously never swum in the lake before?” You asked Gally doubtfully after a beat of silence.
“I don’t think that’s something most people have done.” Gally frowned before sourly adding. “Only you and Minho apparently.”
“Minho and I weren’t the only ones. A bunch of us went out. Zart, Ben – even Newt’s swum in the lake before, and he’s a real stickler for the rules.”
Gally looked at you with surprise.
“Seriously?”
At this point, Gally was starting to feel pretty pathetic. While he was glad you hadn’t gone on some romantic, moonlit swim alone with Minho, the fact that he seemed to be one of the only Gladers to not have gone and swam by the lake made him feel slightly uncool.
“Yeah, of course. It took a bit of convincing, but when it’s this hot, sometimes a little rule-breaking is necessary.”
“Seems like ‘a little rule breaking’ is always necessary for you,” Gally muttered. “I’m surprised you even asked Alby about going to the lake.”
“Yeah, that was Newt’s idea; he wasn’t too keen to be lying to Alby. He was just trying to see if it was avoidable.” You clarified. “I’d already been with some of the runners like three times at that point.”
“Sounds like a waste of time,” Gally replied, turning back to the plank of wood in front of him. “Wouldn’t you rather sleep so that you could actually wake up with enough energy to run the maze.”
“Who can even sleep when it’s this hot?” You countered.
“’Spose that’s true.” Gally shrugged before he leaned down to grab a container filled with screws.
Getting the sense that the conversation was closing, you began to feel uncertain whether to leave or stay. Seemingly sensing your discomfort, Gally looked over at you.
“If you wanted, you could hang around with me for a bit.” Gally offered, his voice slightly raspy. “I won’t even put you to work; you can just sit and hang around.”
He was sure his desperation was starting to show and was beginning to become embarrassed yet again.
“I know how lazy you are.” He added, for good measure, to ensure your perception of him wasn’t just how much of a loser he was for you.
You feigned annoyance as you stifled a smile.
“Sorry.” Gally offered, his mouth quirking into a smile.
“But yeah, feel free to stay.” He offered.
And just as you were about to agree, you felt a strand of your hair being pulled, causing you to whip your head away from Gally to look behind you. You were greeted with a smirking Minho, his arms folded and glistening with sweat.
“Don’t tell me you’re about to willingly do work.” Minho teased. “That’s not the Y/n that I know.”
Gally was certain he was going to lose it.
It’s like Minho wanted Gally to be miserable. Which was crazy because Gally was under the belief that the two were on relatively okay terms.
“What’s up, Captain Gally?” Minho nodded to Gally with a smirk.
Gally clenched his hand around the handle of the hammer, forcing himself to give Minho a thin smile.
“Hey, Minho.”
“All the builders slacking off?” Minho quipped before tutting and shaking his head. “Gotta learn how to run a tight ship like me. I’ve got all the runners in line.”
Gally was positive this wasn’t true. No one in the Glade messed around more than you and Minho did. Sure, when it got down to it, Minho was pretty serious about running the Maze, but he doubted Minho had a very intimidating, authoritative hold on all the runners – certainly not on you.
“Yeah, just figured with the hot weather that they could use a break.” Gally shrugged.
Minho appeared uninterested in Gally’s reasoning, his attention span as short as ever. “Y/n, what do ya say we go raid Frypan’s kitchen?” Minho asked, moving his hands to your shoulders to gently shake you.
And just like that, Gally felt you slip away.
“Sure, I’m always up to bother Frypan.” You grinned.
“I’ll see you around, Gally.” You offered Gally a small smile before turning away to walk with Minho.
“Yeah bye, Y/n.” Gally called out, attempting to conceal his frustration.
“Later, Gal’!” Minho called out.
Gally almost growled.
What a smug, arrogant asshole Minho was, Gally scoffed to himself. And here Gally had been, thinking you had the decency to hold a decent conversation with him, but of course, you proved too uninterested.
At this very moment, Gally swore he would stop getting his hopes up about the prospect of friendship or anything more with you.
˚✶⋆. .⋆✶
Gally proceeded to spend the rest of the day working tirelessly and resenting you for running off after Minho.
It was good.
He was fine.
More importantly, he was busy and had no time to fixate on every interaction he ever had with you.
But now, he was lying in his hammock, and he couldn’t sleep at all. He was sweating and fuming at the idea of you and Minho. All he was doing was tossing and turning and hating the Creators for allowing the temperature to reach such a viscous high.
The heat was beginning to piss him off to a new extent. Another thing pissing him off to a new extent?
You.
Because somehow, every time he thought he could stop thinking about you, you popped back up in his thoughts again. And he hated it.
Gally was absolutely hopeless.
Truly, a lost cause.
He groaned to himself with frustration before turning over to his left side for what felt as if to be the hundredth time.
“Can’t sleep?”
The voice broke the silence wrapped around him and very nearly made him roll out of his hammock in surprise.
He could recognise that voice anywhere.
He squinted his eyes as he looked around the darkness surrounding him.
“Y/n?” He murmured, his voice raspy.
“Hey.” You whispered, reaching your hand out to nudge his shoulder. “Whatcha doing?”
“What am I doing? What are you doing? It’s the middle of the night!” Gally had to force himself to keep his voice at a whisper.
Sometimes he just didn’t get you at all. First, you completely ditched him for Minho, and now you were approaching him in the middle of the night with a big grin spread across your face as though Gally was your favourite person ever.
“I’m gonna take you for your first swim in the lake.” You whispered, acting as though this was the most obvious thing in the world.
Gally immediately frowned, pushing himself up so he could sit on the edge of the hammock and face you.
“Are you crazy? I’m not doing that!” Gally hissed, his voice remaining low.
He could immediately tell you were unimpressed by his reaction.
“C’mon, why not?”
“I’m not spending a day in the Pit just because it’s a bit hot out and Alby’s a hard ass,” Gally replied.
“It’ll be fine. You won’t spend a day in the Pit. Alby’s fast asleep. I went and checked.” You replied earnestly.
“I’m not going.” Gally insisted.
“Do you have to be so boring and unadventurous?” You groaned.
Gally scowled at this statement.
“Gally, just come with me.” You repeated, sensing him weakening.
Gally hesitated, unsure of whether it would be worth the risk. It wasn’t even Alby’s wrath he was afraid of. It was himself. He couldn’t trust himself around you. You were too alluring, tempting. He knew you didn’t like him – probably not even as a friend – but part of him was desperate for you.
He needed to remind himself that he would never be your first pick. You had made that perfectly clear to him just this afternoon.
“Please.” You added, attempting to force your voice as soft as possible.
“Why don’t you go ask Minho?” Gally spoke, his voice sharp.
You heaved a sigh.
“Look, I’m sorry I ditched you to hang out with Minho before, but you made it pretty clear all day that you had no interest in spending time with me.” You argued. “You spent half the day pissed with me.”
Gally frowned at your accusation.
“Are you kidding? I was impossibly nice to you today. All you did was cause problems, and I didn’t even get mad at you.” Gally retorted.
“I didn’t cause problems.” You glared at him, your voice beginning to rise. “I stayed out of your way. It’s all your fault for picking me to work with the builders in the first place. What, did you want to ruin my day or something?”
“I just wanted to spend time with you. Meanwhile, you ran off every second you got.” Gally waved one of his hands up in the air.
“And please lower your voice before we get caught up.” Gally hissed. “Now, how about you go ask Minho and leave me alone to sleep?”
“I don’t want to go with Minho, I want to go with you.”
Gally was taken aback completely by your response. He had regretted letting it slip that he wanted to spend time with you, but you seemed to either not hear his confession or simply not care.
“Sorry, but there’s no way I’m going. Not worth the risk.” Gally replied.
"Well, I’m going whether you come with me or not." You spoke.
Gally rolled his eyes at you before turning away in his hammock.
"Whatever.” You scoffed at his dramatics, already beginning to slowly saunter away.
“Gosh, I sure do hope nothing bad happens without anyone watching over me," you mused as you walked away.
Gally knew you were trying to provoke him. The only thing was, you had a good point about it being dangerous for you to swim alone. It was also really hot. And you were really pretty.
"Wait."
He didn't ever really have a choice when it came to you.
˚✶⋆. .⋆✶
The night wrapped a serene silence around the two of you that was surprisingly welcomed. As the two of you reached the Deadheads, Gally broke the silence.
“So you really do this all the time?”
“I mean, not all the time. But when it’s this hot, I do.” You replied. “Alby’s missing out.” Gally hummed in response. He had to admit he was slightly nervous at the prospect of Alby catching him. Although time spent in the Pit wouldn’t be so bad if you were there with him. Then again, you seemed to be able to talk your way out of anything, so he doubted you’d even get punished.
The lake was hidden behind a tall wall of trees, branches wild and untamed. As you approached, you pushed past the branches as the two of you reached the entrance.
The lake was glistening to the point that Gally was nearly convinced it was glowing. It was a light blue that was impossibly bright – nearly artificial looking. The moonlight danced across the small waves lapping at the edges as the wind pushed at the water. Gally was almost in awe. That was, until you turned to him with a smile and completely stole every ounce of his attention.
He was sure he had never seen anyone so beautiful before.
You started to move towards the water, and Gally immediately followed, mimicking your movements as you kicked off your own shoes and socks before dipping your feet in the water.
“See how refreshing it is?” You spoke.
“Yeah.” Gally had to admit you were right, the water was cool to touch and immediately graced him with a sense of serenity.
This calmness was immediately washed away when he realised something.
“We’re not actually gonna swim, right?” He asked. “I mean neither of us has any bathers.”
He wasn’t sure what you usually wore because he was pretty certain you actually swam when you went with Minho and your other friends. Was it skinny dipping? He was sure he had heard Minho ‘educating’ the runners on what that was. In fact, he was pretty sure he had heard Minho at a bonfire daring Ben to do exactly that.
Gally couldn’t help but wonder; fuck, had Minho seen her naked before I had? Not that Gally wanted to see you naked. I mean, he certainly wouldn’t be opposed. Your body was attractive; anyone could see that. Did you want him to see you naked? Did you want to see him naked? Before Gally could spiral any further, you cut off his thoughts.
“You can swim in clothes.” You answered, looking at him like he was stupid.
And he was pretty sure he was stupid because how could he not have thought of that?
“Oh, right, yeah.” Gally coughed.
“Yeah, I mean, the others usually just go in their shorts.” You added, your voice casual.
This was not a casual statement, though. Shirtless? Gally wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He felt almost weird about the idea of being shirtless around you. I mean, you were surrounded by boys who constantly ripped their shirts off when they pleased, but one-on-one felt different, more intimate.
Then again, you had said it so casually, maybe you didn’t care.
“Alright, yeah. I’ll do that.”
“Alright.” You shrugged, seemingly indifferent.
Gally hesitated before pulling his shirt over his head, leaving him in just his sleep shorts. The soft wind brushed against his stomach, a welcome addition considering the sweat that was beading along his back.
You looked over to him, forcing your eyes to meet his face and not trail down along his body.
“You ready?” You asked.
“Yeah, sure.”
Gally moved to sit by the edge of the lake next to you, who had moved there while waiting for him to change out of his shirt. The oversized shirt you wore was pooled around you, one of the sleeves beginning to slip off your shoulder. The white fabric was clearly soft and well-worn. A sliver of the satiny blue shorts you wore peeked out from under the hem of your shirt.
You moved off the edge of the lake and allowed your body to sink into the water, your feet barely touching the floor. Gally quickly followed, allowing the water to swish around his body gently.
You smoothly dipped your head until your whole body was submerged in the water and allowed yourself to be engulfed by the cool water. Taking this to be the correct course of action, Gally quickly followed you.
The water was undeniably refreshing and did a marvellous job of washing away the lingering heat that the sun had left behind. As the two of you emerged from underwater, you brushed your hair away from your face, water droplets flicking beside you. The sound of soft water lapping around you filled both of your ears as you looked over to Gally.
“So… what’d you think?” You asked, looking at him with a knowing smile.
“Yeah, it’s nice, I guess,” Gally replied.
“You don’t always have to act all tough and indifferent, y’know?”
It was like you saw right through him sometimes.
“Okay, okay,” Gally held his hands up in defeat, water droplets rolling down his forearms. “I’m glad you dragged me out here.”
“Dragged you out here?” You scoffed. “You practically fell out of your hammock to follow me here.”
“I did not.”
“Are you kidding? I’m shocked you didn’t trip over yourself running over to me after I walked away.”
“That’s just because I’d pissed you off.” Gally reasoned. “It wasn’t because I was so desperate to swim in some lake.”
“Why can’t you just admit you’re glad I brought you?”
“Fine. I’m not mad at you for bringing me.”
You rolled your eyes at his stubbornness.
“C’mon, this is twenty times better than lying in your sweaty hammock, I bet.”
“Yeah, well, not all of us can have our own huts, y’know?” Gally countered.
“Why can’t you just build your own? You’re the keeper of the builders after all.”
“Then I’d have to build all the keepers a hut. And then the Gladers who aren’t keepers would complain, and it’d just cause problems.” Gally replied, swaying his hands against the water gently.
As the two of you had talked, you had gradually moved away from the edge and made your way closer to the middle of the small lake. It had gotten deeper – deep enough you had to tread the water and would only touch the tip of your toe to the floor every now and then to stabilise yourself.
“I think people already complain that only Alby, Newt, and I have huts. I’m not even a keeper, you wouldn’t believe some of the things people say to me about it.”
This caused Gally to frown.
“People say stuff to you about it?”
“Oh yeah, you bet. So many people complain and say it’s unnecessary, just unfair – stuff like that.” You replied.
“Who?” Gally demanded.
The idea of someone complaining to you about something completely reasonable was not something Gally liked to think of. He was more than ready to show those Gladers exactly how much he didn’t like it as well.
“It’s fine, jeez, you sure get fired up about huts.” You laughed.
“I don’t care about huts.” He retorted. “I care about you.”
This, you weren’t expecting him to say. He hadn’t even expected himself to say this. He groaned with frustration. He hated how loose he got with his words around you. You had this magnetic pull on him that made him forget any tactical way of acting.
“I just mean that if someone’s pickin’ on someone for stupid shuck reasons they shouldn’t just get away with it.” He added, sounding exasperated.
“Yeah, sure.” You replied with a teasing smile.
“Always the narcissist, aren’t you?” Gally rolled his eyes with a smile dancing on his lips. “So sure that everyone loves you.”
“I never mentioned love.” You replied pointedly.
“I bet you were thinking it, though.”
“I was not. I don’t just assume that everyone loves me.” You insisted.
“Sure you don’t.” Gally bantered.
His previous nervousness had faded away, and now it felt normal, comfortable. As though this was exactly where he was meant to be.
The fabric of your shirt danced around you in rhythm with the water, gently brushing against Gally’s exposed frame. It was a reminder of just how close the two of you had gotten.
The water was lapping at your shoulders rhythmically, and the pale moonlight across the two of you illuminated you with a delicate shine. Your eyes gleamed as they locked in with his.
“Why’d you choose to ask me?” Gally asked, his voice lowered and slightly raspy. “To come with you to the lake, I mean. You’ve never asked me before.”
“Felt kinda bad for slacking off all day. Figured I could make it up to you.” You replied, your voice matching his quiet tone.
It was a half-truth at best. Sure, you felt sort of bad, but not bad enough to go out of your way to make it up to him.
“You slack off constantly,” Gally murmured, daring himself to edge closer. “I don’t see you making much of an effort to make it up to all the other Gladers.”
“Well, maybe I just felt especially bad.” You replied, your voice soft and uncertain.
Gally’s gaze on you was strong, capturing you. It didn’t seem like he was going to push you on the topic, which you were grateful for. The true answer felt too big, too honest, and raw.
“Why’d you really ask for me to work as a builder today?” You questioned.
“I told you why already.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Well, it’s true.” His voice was soft but firm, matching the quiet tone of yours as though it was for no one else to here.
Both yours and Gally’s questions held the same underlying question: Was it because you care about me?
While fear held the two of you back from openly admitting it, you both knew the real answers to each of the questions posed; of course, it was because I care about you.
And although nothing was admitted, there was an unspoken understanding between the two of you.
You liked Gally.
And Gally liked you back.
You could feel his hand gently tugging at the fabric of your t-shirt, pulling you closer until you could feel his body against yours. Neither of you dared to speak. His green eyes met yours and looked at you. Crystal-blue water gently rippled around your shoulders, urging you even closer to Gally. He looked down at you, almost hesitantly. Water droplets dripped off the strands of his caramel-coloured hair and fell onto his face, slowly rolling across him until returning to the water.
His hands moved away from your shirt to your waist, his eyes strong and waiting. As if he was waiting for you to signal this was okay. That this was something allowed between the two of you. With that question in mind, you moved your hands that had been treading the water to his shoulders; they were slippery and smooth but sturdy enough for you to hold onto to keep yourself afloat.
And just as you were about to speak his name, you were cut off by his lips diving down onto yours.
His lips were soft against yours, moving gently in synchrony with your own lips. The water swayed around the two of you, but this was barely recognised by either of you. Both of your lips were still slightly slippery from the water, but you managed to remain warm and welcoming.
He could faintly feel the delicate fabric of your shirt continuing to dance across his bare stomach. He tugged at your waist – hungry and desperate to feel you completely against him.
Your heartbeat was heavy and fast, laced with a sense of satisfaction because it felt as though you had been waiting forever for this moment. Your lips were buzzing, and you felt almost dizzy at the sensation. Cold water pushed against your bodies as you clung to Gally’s damp skin, wrapping your arms around his neck as he grasped at your waist.
The lingering taste of his minty toothpaste met your tongue as you slipped it inside his mouth. His hands were rubbing against your side rhythmically, holding you up above the water’s depth. His touch was soothing and slightly hesitant, as though he wasn’t completely sure of himself. Because how could he be? A girl as beautiful and wholeheartedly tantalising as you was kissing him, gently touching at the nape of his neck while pressing her body against his.
Gally wanted to kiss you forever.
But he was too greedy to do such a thing because he also desperately longed to look at you. He was desperate to see your perfect style and to take in your soft hair that perfectly framed your face and to look into your mischievous eyes. More than that, he longed to talk to you. He didn’t even care if all you did was hurl insults at him; he would happily take each insult your witty brain could think up and your sharp tongue could sneer at him.
When your head began to grow cloudy and dizzy with bliss and you were sure you couldn’t take it any longer, you gently pulled away from Gally.
His cheeks were flushed, which seemed impossible considering the water flowing around you, which had effectively cooled both of you down from the summer heat that filled the Glade.
His eyes peeked into yours with curiosity, checking for reassurance that that was okay. Meanwhile, his hands remained at your waist, sturdy and unmoving.
You couldn’t conceal the smile pressing at your lips from showing. Seeing that it was okay and that you didn’t hate that he kissed you, Gally let out a small laugh of relief.
“I’m glad Alby didn’t catch us doing that.” Gally joked, his voice slightly breathless.
“Why are you talking about Alby right now?” You coughed a laugh.
“Wha- well, I’m just saying he would not be impressed. I think we’re breaking a lot of rules right now.” Gally huffed.
“Such a rule-follower.” You sighed, feigning judgment.
“Are you kidding? I’m pretty sure I get thrown in the Pit more than you do.” Gally defended.
“That’s because I know how to talk my way out of it.”
“That’s true.” Gally mused.
He had always sort of admired your ability to do that.
“Have you cooled down yet?” You asked.
He had, but after your kiss, the cooling effect of the water had been reversed, and he felt hot all over again.
“Yeah, just about.” He replied, not eager to explain the extent the kiss had affected him.
“You ready to admit you’re glad I brought you here?” You asked teasingly.
“Yes, yes. It was a good idea.” Gally replied with a smile.
You smiled at him with satisfaction before untangling your arms from around him and beginning to move back to the edge of the lake. Gally quickly rearranged his shorts (which had been slightly... displaced while kissing you) then made his way to exit the lake.
As you emerged from the water, your waterlogged shirt clung to your body, tracing your figure in a way so beautiful that Gally had to rearrange his shorts yet again.
The air was still warm, but more significantly, more bearable with the water lingering on your body. Your hair dripped small water droplets that collected in a puddle by your feet.
As Gally pushed himself out of the water, you caught a better glimpse of his tanned body, glistening with water, while his arms flexed as he pushed against the ground to gain the momentum to pull himself above ground. He stepped forward to pick his shirt up off the floor, where he had left it crumpled in a pile.
He hesitantly looked over at you, your shirt was saturated, and holding you tight. It didn’t help that the white fabric had grown to be nearly see-through due to the water.
“Do you want my shirt?” He offered, reaching his hand to hold his shirt out.
“And what would you wear?” You shook your head firmly. “Can’t have you strutting around with no shirt on.”
“I think you walking around in a saturated shirt is more of a problem and definitely more suspicious than me walking around without a shirt.” Gally reasoned. “Pretty sure half the guys would be shirtless on a night as hot as tonight.”
“Fine.” You caved. “Yes, please.”
With that, Gally handed you his shirt, silently hoping it wouldn’t reek of sweat or have any sweat marks on it. You looked at him expectantly, as though you were waiting for him to do something.
“Can you turn around, please?” You let out a slightly awkward and uncertain laugh.
“Oh, yeah, yeah, of course.” Gally hurried before turning his back to you.
“Thanks.” You murmured, your voice slightly muffled as you pulled your shirt off.
Gally would be lying if he said he didn’t want to look. Just a very small peak. He knew he couldn’t, but man, he really wanted to.
“Done.” You called out after shrugging Gally’s shirt over you.
His shirt was large and hung off your frame, the sleeves slipping low on your arms. The shirt was nearly as well-worn as yours was, making it soft and impossibly comfortable.
“Cool.” Gally nodded, feeling a bit uncertain about what to do with himself.
Was he supposed to walk you to your hut now? He was pretty sure that was the gentlemanly thing to do – to make sure you got back safe and okay.
He could barely even focus on that idea when he saw you in his shirt. It suited you so perfectly, he almost wanted to insist you kept it despite the shirt being his favourite one to sleep in.
“You ready to go?" You asked as you walked over to him.
“Yep– sure.” He replied, pausing to clear his throat in an attempt to recollect himself.
The two of you walked past the trees surrounding you, leaving the lake behind to glimmer in the moonlight, untouched. A pool of all the memories you had just made with Gally.
As the two of you made your way through the Deadheads, a glow of warm serenity surrounded you both. The weather remained persistently warm but felt much more bearable with the droplets of water sliding down your skin and the sweet taste of Gally lingering on your tongue.
reminders for part 2: @flirtysnakes @e-c-a-r-l-a-t-e
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
summary: when the heat in the glade hits an all time high, the runners are assigned to help out around the glade. you do not take well to being assigned to help out the builders and as the heat rises, so does the tension between you and gally (part 1). as nighttime falls and the glade's heatwave persists, gally eagerly begrudgingly joins you for a swim in the glade's lake (part 2).
warnings: description of injury + scarring but nothing really intense imo.
word count: approx. 7.2k
for part 2: click here!
for my masterlist: click here!
"How is it possible that it's already this hot and the sun isn't even fully up yet?" You groaned, tying up your shoelaces while Minho worked at packing the running gear.
"I don't know, but man — there's no way we should be expected to run when the weather’s like this." Minho spoke, yet he continued packing.
"Exactly! It's dangerous — we could pass out from heat stroke or something."
"It's not like we haven't explored the entire shuckin' maze, anyway." Minho muttered.
You stood up having finished tying your laces. You felt like you'd been hit by a wave of steam, clogging your throat.
"There's no way I'm running that maze today," You shook your head firmly. "Not happening."
"Yeah well last time I checked, we don't exactly have much of a choice do we shank?" Minho rolled his eyes.
"Says who? The Glade's never been this hot before, let's at least just talk to Newt. Tell him it's too high of a risk or something."
"Are you kiddin' me?" Minho breathed out a chuckle. "Newt can only do so much, it’s Alby we should be concerned about. And Alby would never let that fly."
"Well, have you got any better ideas?" You sighed with exasperation.
"Yeah, actually I do." Minho replied.
He was bluffing. He couldn't think of a single solution and he was not about to run the maze in this heat. But, he was too stubborn to admit that.
"Oh yeah? And what idea is that?" You quipped.
You knew Minho well enough to know his mannerisms when he lied. The exact mannerisms he was doing right now.
But before Minho had a chance to scramble to formulate a semi-believable lie, in came Newt with a frown.
"It's buggin' hot out there." Newt heaved.
"Yeah, it sure is hot," You started, staring at him pointedly.
"Yes, yes, I know where you lot are going with this. Alby and I had a talk and we think it wouldn't be too wise having shanks running in the maze when the heat's this high. Not worth the risk.”
“So Alby did in fact let that fly is what I’m hearing.” You smirked smugly at Minho. “Is that what you’re hearing too, Minho?”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Minho grumbled, rolling his eyes.
“So does that mean we get a free day?” You turned to ask Newt eagerly.
Minho looked up at Newt hopefully.
“Think Alby wants you guys helping out around the Glade,” Newt winced. “Sorry guys.”
Minho groaned and your shoulders sagged.
“Man, seriously? We deserve a break you know.” Minho whined.
“Sorry but Alby’s orders.” Newt clapped Minho on the back. “You get to work with me in the gardens though.”
Minho nodded at that, knowing if he had to have chosen he would have gone there.
“Am I as well?” You questioned.
Newt shot you a nervous smile.
“Actually… Alby’s assigned you to help out Gally an’ the builders.”
Minho cackled as your shoulders sagged in disappointment.
“Newt, what? Couldn’t you have used your special Second in Command powers to get me a better position?” You groaned. “I’d make an awful builder.”
“Alby assigned it so don’t go blaming me,” Newt held his hands up in defence. “Builder’s better than a slopper at least.”
“At least Chuck’s a slopper though. I don’t talk to any of the builders.” You complained.
“Well last time I checked work isn’t about chatting with your mates, Y/n.” Newt replied with a sigh.
“Easy for you to say, you get to work with Minho all day.” You defended.
“Yeah he does,” Minho smirked. “Go on Y/n, time to get building!”
“Yeah, yeah whatever.” You exhaled, beginning to take out some of the running equipment you had already packed into your pockets.
“Don’t worry too much Y/n,” Newt gave you a reassuring pat on your shoulder. “It’s only for today. Just go talk to Gally and he’ll assign you something to do.”
You gave Newt a weak smile, telling him you’d see him later before he hobbled off with Minho in tow.
You sighed as you finished packing away your running gear and began to make your way out of the runners’ hut. It wasn’t that you had a problem with Gally, or even any of the builders — you actually were quite fond of Gally despite his outlandish demeanour, it was more a day of hammering things in the hot sun that you hated.
The builders tended to spread out pretty far across the Glade, each divided into small groups to manage different parts of construction across the Glade. You were going to take full advantage of this and decided you would take a leisurely stroll while you “attempted” to find Gally.
Even though the whole ‘trapped in a maze’ situation was a horror story, you couldn’t help but have an ounce of appreciation for the Glade. The greenery was rich in colour and helped brighten up the grim stone walls surrounding you. As you zoned out in thought, squinting at the walls beside you as you imagined how they’d look if daises grew from the vines, you found yourself walking straight to the man you were aiming to avoid.
“Hey.” Gally spoke, his voice slightly raspy.
You wouldn’t exactly consider yourself close friends with Gally, but you thought the two of you were relatively friendly. Given you had arrived at the glade only a couple of months after him, you were around during the beginning of the maze and were able to bond over that. But that was just about where the connection stopped. You weren’t too sure how Gally felt about you but given his attitude to most of the gladers, you figured he wasn’t too fond of you.
“So, what d’you need me to do?” You asked, fingers running over the smooth wood planks positioned on a wonky table beside Gally. “Hammer some nails into wood planks or something?”
“Not quite,” Gally frowned. “We’re working on makin’ some new chairs for the Keeper’s meetings, old ones are getting wonky.”
You pulled a face, you couldn’t imagine anything more boring then spending every day making chairs.
“Sounds fun,” You said wryly.
Gally ignored your poor attitude, reaching over to the pile of wood planks your hand was rested on.
“Off,” he grunted, staring at your hand.
You rolled your eyes as you moved your hand as per his unnecessarily rude command.
“So how d’you make the chairs?” You asked, still unsure what exactly was expected of you in your new role.
“Well the other builders have gotten started on prepping the wood as you can see, so that’s already covered.” Gally explained. “I’ll work on chopping the wood to the size we need for the arms and legs of the chairs.”
“And, I’ll work on watching you do that?” You added in hopefully.
Gally turned to you with a blank stare.
“Hilarious.” He drawled. “We’re working in a partner system. One partner cuts the wood, the other drills the holes in the right place then we pass on the stack to Johnnie and Leo over there. Nothin’ too complex.”
You nodded, pleased it seemed pretty straight forward.
“Just for the record, I would’ve been able to handle complex.” You added on.
“Mmm, sure.” Gally mused, turning back to the wood in front of him.
“It’s true.” You nodded adamantly.
“Alright, y/n. Whatever you say.”
Gally was now leaning over another table, measuring a line across the plank of wood in front of him. Unsure what to do and in fear of asking in case he assigned you with more work, you hovered behind him.
“Sorta sucks that we couldn’t have just gotten the whole day off instead.” You noted, breaking the silence.
“I bet,” Gally nodded, eyes remaining on the plank in front of him.
His tongue has slightly darted out of his mouth, eyes squinted as if in focus.
Growing desperately bored, you began to roll back and forth on the balls of your heels. Sensing your movement out the corner of his eye, Gally turned to you.
“How about while you wait for this wood plank to be ready you-,” Gally started.
Realising he was about to assign you some form of work, you decided you would beat him to it and instead assign yourself with the easiest task possible.
“I could get some water for you,” You interrupted. “Since it’s real hot. Wouldn’t want you passing out on us, huh?”
“Uh, well I suppose that could help. But, I was actually gonna say-.”
“That you could really use some ice in your water? Don’t worry I’ll get right to it!” You yet again interrupted.
Before he could try and assign you any more work, you gave him a friendly tap on the hand to say goodbye, grabbed his drink bottle from beside him, and hurried off in the direction of the kitchen.
“Hey, Fry,” You smiled warmly as you greeted Frypan upon reaching the kitchen. “Just getting some water for Gally.”
You loved Frypan’s kitchen. The soft crackle of the radio, Frypan’s mindless humming and the gentle scent of whatever him and the cooks were cooking up.
“You’re working with the builders today?” He asked.
“Yep, would’ve been cool to be assigned here with you.”
“Gally’s not too bad.” Frypan smiled. “You just gotta get to know him, give him a chance.”
You gave him an uncertain look before you opened the freezer in search of ice cubes. The sound of Frypan’s radio buzzed beside you, the music falling in and out of your ear’s reach.
“Stupid thing’s been buggen’ all day,” Frypan scowled as he fiddled with the wiry antenear sprouting out of the radio.
“I bet I’ll be able to fix it.” You offered quickly, the words practically falling out of your mouth.
“I take it that this offer has something to do with you being assigned to work with the builders?” Frypan teased. “Try not to take too long. Don’t want Gally freaking out if you’re gone too for too long.”
“Don’t even worry Fry, Gally couldn’t care less what I’m doing. In fact, he’s probably grateful I’m out of his hair.”
˚✶⋆. .⋆✶
Gally was in fact not grateful for you to have been out of his hair. And he certainly did care what you were doing. In fact, he had spent most of his time grumbling to himself as he cut the wood after you had been gone “getting water” for 30 minutes. As you sauntered back over to him, he was fully prepared to give you a stern talking to about respect and diligence. At least, that was until you provided him with a small smile and suddenly it felt like all the anger in the world had melted away.
“Here you go.” You gave him another smile as you handed him his drink bottle that was now filled with cold water and ice cubes.
“Thanks.” He mumbled, wiping his hand over the sweat beading at his forehead before turning back to the wood planks.
You gave him a nod as you took a swig from your own drink bottle. You felt reassured you hadn’t taken long enough to annoy Gally into yelling at you.
Sensing that you were yet again prepared to do absolutely nothing, Gally decided to jump in before you went on another “water” break.
“Some of the wood legs are ready for you to drill into,” He said, nodding over to the pile on the table beside his.
You nodded hesitantly, slowly walking over to the table and examining the wood bits in front of you. Looking over at you and seeing your hesitation, Gally reached over to pick up one of the wooden legs.
“You see this spot here with the pencil drawn on?” He asked, jutting a finger at one of the messily scrawled on circles dotted along the wood. “Just gotta take that drill and drill 1/4” holes at each of the marked spots. Sound easy enough?”
You nodded your head apprehensively, reaching for the tool and positioning it where Gally had said. You could feel Gally’s weary gaze on you as you began to drill. You let out a sigh of relief after successfully drilling the hole and turned to Gally for his approval.
“Good job.” Gally gave you an approving nod before turning back to his table.
You smiled at him before continuing on with the next circles until you’d finished the entire bit of wood.
“All done,” You turned to Gally with a proud smile.
“Good work, now you’ve got the rest of that pile to work on.”
“Can’t we just like take a break? We’ve been working ages.” You frowned.
“There’s no way you think this has been a lot of work.” Gally mirrored your frown. “Running the maze mustn’t be much work after all.”
“Are you kidding? Any lousy greenie gets to do your job. Not everyone gets to be a runner.” You scowled at him. “I mean runners are the only ones who got a day off from their job today due to the heat. Surely that shows the amount of work we’re putting in.”
“Yeah, whatever you say, Y/n.” Gally replied.
He knew he was being stupid. Being a runner was insanely hard work that he knew perfectly well he would not be able to do. But he felt embarrassed admitting that.
“No, you know what Gally—,” You started, turning to him as you forcefully pushed the drill back down onto the table.
You would’ve continued your rant had Gally not started swearing under his breath as he rapidly pulling his left hand out from under the drill you had accidentally slammed down on him. You widened your eyes, realising what you had done.
“Gally, I’m so so sorry, that was a complete accident I promise. I hadn’t even realised you were leaning on the table.” You rushed, guilt pitting in your stomach. “I’m so sorry Gally.”
Had it been any of the builders to have done that to him, he would’ve had them sent off to work for the sloppers for the rest of the day. When he looked up at you to tell you to do exactly that, he found he couldn’t. Maybe it was your desperate apologies or the sincere look of guilt or maybe it was just your pretty eyes that anxiously scanned his face. He wasn’t quite sure how he had gone any time in the Glade without constantly looking at your eyes. So pretty. So genuine. So—
“Gally?” Your voice was small, interrupting his thoughts.
“Yea-, yeah?” He cleared his throat, flustered. “It’s okay. Relax. I’m fine.”
You bit at the inside of your cheek, clearly worried and deeply guilty.
“It’s fine, stop looking at me like that,” he grumbled, turning away as a light blush flushed his cheeks. “No big deal.”
He flexed his injured hand, trying to stretch out the pain coursing through his veins. He stifled a wince, not eager to expose his pain to you feeling the slightest bit embarrassed. You reached out for his injured hand. Hesitantly, Gally let you pull his hand over to your eyesight, allowing you to examine the damage done. Fresh angry scratches spread over his knuckles, dots of blood beginning to speckle and seep out. Small fading scars that littered his hand glowed white against his hand that was now red and irritated. You frowned with concern as you delicately glided your pointer finger over his hand, your touch as light as a feather.
“S’alright,” He mumbled.
“I can help clean it up,” You offered, looking up at his eyes.
Gally wanted to say no. Wanted to just shrug off your offer and get back to working silently. But your hand was so soft against his skin and he wasn’t eager for you to let go just yet.
“Alright. Thanks.” He offered you a small smile which you happily returned.
“It’s no problem, anything’s more fun than building.” You grinned.
Still delicately holding his hand, you began walking in the direction of the Deadheads.
“The medjacks aren’t this way,” Gally frowned, slightly tugging you back with his hand.
“We don’t need the medjacks. I said I’d be the one patching you up.”
Gally’s frown deepened at that.
“I heard about your attempt to bandage Chuck up when he cut his arm on a wire in the garden.” Gally slowed his walking, starting to severely regret agreeing to this. “Little shank complained about it for ages. Kept whining that the bandage was too tight and about how you drowned his arm in antiseptic solution.”
“I’ve improved since then,” You insisted, although Gally’s uncertain frown showed he really didn’t believe that to be true. “This will be quicker anyway. With the weather being as it is there’s no doubt a huge line up of whiny little boys trying to get out of work.”
“I’m shocked you’re not part of that line-up,” Gally grumbled. “You sure seem eager to avoid work.”
“Okay? I’m more creative with my avoidance though.” You jutted your chin out, your eyes sharp and challenging.
Gally huffed a sigh of defeat.
“I think I’d rather just leave it be than have you wrap my hand in some leaves or whatever it is you’re planning.”
“Of course I’m not planning that. We’re going to the Map Room.” You explained, still slightly dragging him by his injured hand.
Gally’s interest certainly piqued at that. Only runners were allowed in there and Minho was very strict about enforcing this rule.
“Well, I’ll go in there and fetch some first aid stuff. You’ll just have to wait outside.” You corrected yourself.
Now that made more sense. Gally knew you were not one to shy away from the occasional rule breaking, but he also knew you were friends with Minho and wouldn’t do anything to betray him. But that wasn’t going to stop Gally from trying to convince you to let him into the Map Room.
“Or I could just go in with you,” Gally suggested, attempting to feign indifference.
You turned to him with a smirk, knowing exactly what he was getting at.
“Nice try, Gally.”
“Where’s the sudden morality complex coming from? Don’t act like you don’t break the rules whenever you please. And you completely get away with it.”
It used to bug him the amount of rules you got away with breaking. Some of the builders would sneer and say it was just because you were a girl and everyone wanted a chance with you. And maybe that was partially true, but Gally was starting to realise it probably had more to do with your personality. You had the sort of charm that made saying no to you seemed like an impossible feat.
“Sounds like someone’s jealous.”
“Yeah, right.” Gally scoffed, lightly kicking his worn boots at the dirt path.
“Map Room isn’t that interesting anyway, I wouldn’t want to shatter the illusion of it’s brilliance.”
Gally hid a small grin at your playful words before stopping out the front of the Map Room.
“I’ll just be a second, think you’ll be alright out here alone or is the pain becoming too much?” You teased.
“I think I’ll manage.”
You entered the Map Room, grabbing the first-aid supplies off the bench where you had left them that morning before exiting.
You immediately began to walk back out the Deadheads, Gally quickly following behind you like an eager puppy.
“And where are we going now?” He asked.
“Back to my hut, I think I’ve got some more stuff in there.”
You were lying.
Really, you were just trying to put off going back to work as long as possible. You found you didn’t actually mind hanging out with Gally too much. Sure, he was moody and talked in such a wry manner that you couldn’t tell if he hated you or not, but he also had a sense of sweetness to him. It was just deeply buried beneath his cold demeanour.
“Right.” Gally muttered.
Very deeply buried.
Emerging from the Deadheads, you began towards your hut. Gally’s eyes darted to your hand, the ghost of your delicate grasp beforehand not leaving his head.
“Won’t take too long,” you reassured Gally, sensing his gaze on you. “You’ll be back to bossing everyone around in no time.”
“I do actual work too ya know,” Gally huffed. “Physical work.”
“Mmmm, real hard labour, I’m sure.” You hummed sarcastically.
“You kno—,” Gally started, before being cut off by you.
“Look, we’re here.” You hurried, not eager to re-start the argument that led to his injury. You opened the door to your hut, the wood creaking against the hinges in protest.
Gally had to admit he was curious about your hut – more interested in your hut than he was curious of the Map Room having not been in here since he worked on it with the builders back when you first entered the Glade. He remembered how you hugged him when he showed you the finished hut. He hadn’t known you back then. Back when you were just a clueless greenie who had no idea what she had gotten into. He wasn’t sure he even knew you now. Not properly at least. Definitely not as much as he would like to know you.
His eyes scanned the room, chocolate-brown shelves were decorated with colourful clutter that had been sent up in the Box. Books with worn spines and faded corners poked out from behind overgrown plants that Newt regularly gifted you with. It somehow teatered the line between messy and organised. It felt as though everything was in it’s perfect space despite the stacked magazines that were clearly shoved wherever you deemed a space to be.
“I could build you another shelf y’know,” Gally offered, his hand mindlessly running over the edge of your dusty shelves hung across the wall.
“You should really dust, Y/n.” Gally frowned.
“You sound like, Newt.” You rolled your eyes. “Always lecturing me.”
“Wasn’t a lecture,” Gally turned to face you. “It was advice.”
“You wouldn’t see me making such a mess of my hut.” He added.
“You should give me a tour of your hut next.”
Gally saw right through you.
“Nice try, we have work to do. Are you gonna fix my hand or what?”
“Was just about to,” You replied, not missing a beat.
Gally was beginning to notice how good you were at that. You never faltered when someone caught you in a lie, or a scheme. Instead, you’d just craft a perfect response that one really couldn’t argue with – especially not when you would bat your twinkling eyes and offer a teasing smile that made the other person’s heart clench. Make their heart pull with desperation to be closer to you, to kiss the smile off your face. Maybe not everyone’s heart reacted the same way, but Gally wasn’t too eager to admit to that.
“Take a seat,” You motioned to your bed.
The blanket was patchwork; he remembered hearing from Chuck about how you had stayed up all night sewing together any pieces of fabric you could find that Newt permitted you to use. You sat beside him, unzipping the first-aid packet and spreading out the contents on your bed.
With wary eyes, Gally watched you tip what he assumed to be a antiseptic solution on a cotton bud. You reached for his hand, looking at his knuckles.
“This might sting a little,” you warned. “Just let me know if it hurts too bad and I’ll stop, okay?”
Gally nodded, so you dotted the cotton ball against his knuckle.
“This alright?” You asked, looking up at him.
“Yep.” Gally gave a weak nod.
It was not alright.
It seemed that you had in fact, not improved since helping Chuck out and Gally was starting to understand why the little shank had complained so incessantly. The combination of the stinging from the antiseptic and you dragging the cotton ball against his hand made him certain you were doing something very wrong and that he had done something very wrong to end up in this torturous situation. The feeling of your hand against his provided little comfort as he internally begged for you to move onto the bandaging part.
It turned out the bandaging part was awful in its own way. You were clumsily attempting to wrap his hand, your tongue slightly peeking out of your mouth as if deep in concentration. Gally could only hope you would concentrate a bit more before he lost circulation in his hand.
Relief washed through him when you finally reached for a safety pin to hold the bandage in place. This relief was short lived when you immediately poked the pin right through the bandage and into his skin, causing a wave of pain to run through him. His other hand was clenching his knee as he tried to suppress a groan of pain, his faced pulled into a deep frown.
“All done!” You looked up to him with a proud smile.
Gally immediately wiped his look of sheer pain and terror off his face to provide you with a small smile.
“Good job.” He grimaced.
With a pleased smile, you packed away the first-aid supplies. Gally stood up when you did, opening the door for you as the two of you began making your way to the Runner’s Hut.
“We should show Minho the good job I did of fixing up your hand. He’ll be impressed.”
“Was he another one of your victims?” Gally gibed.
You turned to Gally with a frown.
“You’re hilarious,” you rolled your eyes. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”
That was because Gally found himself not eager to bother you or break your seemingly good mood. Instead, he had opted to clenching his stomach the entire time as though that would save him from the pain.
“’Spose not,” Gally replied.
As you reached the Runners’ Hut and hurried in so to put the supplies back, you decided seeing Minho wasn’t actually such a bad idea. Not only did it give you the chance to gloat, it also gave you a chance to put off work just a little bit longer.
“Let’s go,” You nodded to Gally as you exited the Runners’ Hut.
He pushed himself up off of the tree he was leaning against to walk beside you.
“I think Minho’s meant to be working with the Track-hoes today,” you said, breaking the silence.
“You were serious about seeing him?”
“Got nothing better to do,” you shrugged. “I wanna show him my hard work anyway.”
“I don’t think Alby’s going to be too impressed with the workflow today,” Gally grumbled.
“He won’t even notice,” you brushed off Gally’s jibe. “If he happens to ask, we’ll just say you were terribly injured and it was my responsibility to help you because you’re my partner.”
“Partners?” Gally could feel the tips of his ears burning, no doubt turning a warm shade of red.
“Yeah? You said all the builders were partnered up for work today, remember?” You reminded him.
“Oh – yeah, right.” Gally coughed, suddenly feeling painfully awkward and very aware of how close the two of you were walking.
“Y’know I should really get back to the builders soon, I mean I am the Keeper, they’re sorta like my responsibility.” Gally added.
“Yeah, yeah I get it — you’re super important. No need to keep rubbing it in.” You quipped.
“You kno–,” Gally’s thought was interrupted by Minho, who had spotted you approaching and called out your name as loud as he could possibly muster.
Turning away from Gally, you looked over to Minho who was working lounging on the grass as Newt worked at chopping a stump beside him. Minho was sat upright, leaning on his elbows to look over at you. You grinned and jogged over, Gally taking quicker strides to catch up — not eager to fall behind.
“I see you’re as hard at work as I am,” Minho smirked, noticing how you had emerged from the Deadheads and definitely not where the builders were working at. “Didn’t expect this rebellion from you Gally.”
“Wasn’t exactly my idea.” Gally hummed stiffly, looking down at Minho’s relaxed demeanour.
Newt turned over to the three of you, noticing that like Minho, you seemed to be doing no work.
“You lot do realise this isn’t just a day off for you guys to prance along doing shuck-all.” Newt frowned. “You’re supposed to be contributing to the Glade.”
“I have been contributing to the Glade. Gally was injured in a builder accident and I needed to treat his wound.” You interjected.
“You, patched Gally up?” Minho snickered, turning to Gally. “What’d you do to deserve such a gruesome punishment?”
“I’m not that bad at first-aid stuff,” you huffed.
“I think my ankles still bad after the number you pulled on it in the maze that time.” Minho groaned, stretching out his leg. “Man, I’m glad we didn’t have to run the maze today. This weather’s killer.”
“D’you reckon it’ll cool down soon?” You asked, taking a seat beside Minho on the grass.
Much to your oblivion, this left Gally feeling very awkward and uncomfortable as he wondered whether he should sit beside you or remain standing.
“Doesn’t seem like it. I gotta say, this is a lot easier than running the maze.”
“Oh definitely.” You nodded in agreement.
“That’s because you’ve done absolutely no work.” Newt chastised, standing upright as he looked at the progress he had made on the stump. “We’re never gonna get this stump out if you don’t help out, Minho.” Minho heaved a sigh dramatically before sitting up, holding his hand out so to help you up.
“You two can feel free to stick around, check out what it’s like to see a real man hard at work.” Minho smirked.
“No, they can’t actually,” Newt gruffly cut in. “I’m sure Gally has more than enough work for Y/n to do.”
“Whatever, I’ll see you guys later.” You rolled your eyes playfully, dusting off the dirt from your hands.
Gally was immensely relieved to finally leave and eagerly followed behind you.
“So, how’s your hand?” You asked Gally as the two of you made your way over to where you had been working before the whole first-aid debacle.
“Should be alright,” Gally answered with a nod.
And it would be alright. But only after he found a chance to rewrap his hand, so it wasn’t so painfully tight.
He used his good hand to wipe around the sweat that was beading at his forehead. As the two of you reached the tables you had been working from earlier, you began to realise you were about to be put to work again.
“How about I go fetch some ice for your hand, Gally?” You offered, batting your eyes to feign innocence.
Gally saw right through you.
“There’s no way,” Gally groaned, clearly growing exasperated with your distractions. “My hands fine and we’re behind on this work.”
“This’ll help calm down the swelling though,” you protested. “And it’ll probably help cool you down from the heat.”
Gally could feel himself weakening. I mean, his hand was pretty sore. And this would give him the opportunity to fix the bandaging without your realising.
“Fine,” he heaved a sigh. “Just try not to take too long.”
“’Course not! I’ll be back in a bit.”
Your definition of “a bit” appeared to be painstakingly different to Gally’s. Gally, thought “a bit” was 5 to 10 minutes. Definitely no longer than 15 minutes. You seemed to define “a bit” as an hour. It wasn’t until Gally gave up on waiting for you and went to get lunch that he saw you again.
You were sat on one of the benches by the kitchen, talking to Frypan as he served the line of Gladers who were lined up awaiting their lunch. When you saw Gally enter the kitchen you stood up rapidly, eyes tinged with guilt.
“Hi Gally,” you mumbled.
“Thanks for the ice.” Gally scowled, roughly grabbing a bowl off the counter.
You hadn’t anticipated the feeling of guilt that was currently blooming.
“Sorry Gally,” you murmured, your voice quiet.
Gally’s glare was searing and you could feel your guilt bubbling and boiling over, suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to gain his forgiveness.
Your eyes widened earnestly.
“I was going to get your ice, honestly I was,” you started, your eyes earnestly widening. “I just got slightly… distracted?”
Gally grunted, clearly not ready to forgive you so easily.
“Here, you can ice it now,” you hurried, sitting up straight and going to the freezer nearby.
Gally scowled. He was beginning to grow sick of your antics. Had it been anyone else he would’ve just given them a snarky remark before putting them back to work but with you it was different. He wasn’t pissed at you for slowing down him and the builders’ work, he was pissed (and slightly hurt) that you made such an effort to avoid spending time with him. Sure, the time would be spent chopping at wood under the pulsing sun glaring down at you. But he had a feeling it wasn’t the sun you were avoiding. And that certainly got a rise out of him (I’m sure you can guess what part of him was rising).
“Whatever, Y/n.” Gally huffed, turning away with his bowl that he had angrily filled while you attempted to apologise.
You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, but a part of your heart still twinged with guilt.
As much as you wanted to leave him alone – show him that he could sulk like a child all he wanted, and you wouldn’t care – you didn’t really want to start a fuelled with Gally. Not only was his angry glare capable of searing your skin raw, you also actually kind of liked him. He was certainly more interesting than most of the other Gladers, no one else quite challenged you like he did.
“I’ll catch up with you later, Fry.” You turned to him with a smile.
As Frypan called out his goodbyes and issued you a warning about how Gally tended to react after one of his storm-outs (huffy, stone-faced and cold) you made your way out the kitchen.
To your surprise, you spotted Gally instantly. He was sat at the foot of a particularly large tree. It was one of those trees that looked as though they were weighed down with wisdom and memories, branches strong but twisting and curling down to the grass laid beneath them. This wasn’t the first time you saw him sitting at this tree. In fact, the first time you saw him there was the first time you had properly talked to Gally.
It had been after your second bonfire. While the night had been filled with laughter and relaxed smiles, the fear of what you had just entered weighed you down. After sitting by the tree in attempt to seek an outlet of peace, you had been greeted by Gally. Tall and tanned with cold eyes washed over with a combination of intrigue and annoyance. After the many warnings you received about Gally’s temper, it had surprised you when rather than slam you against the tree for stealing his spot, he instead sat beside you. Albeit slightly awkward, his soft murmurs had actually calmed you and reassured you that while the situation was awful, it could certainly be worse.
As you approached, Gally looked up.
“I brought ice,” you offered, sitting down beside him, your back pressed against the tree’s trunk.
“Thanks,” Gally replied wryly. “I could’ve just gotten it myself y’know?”
“Well, it didn’t seem like you had any intention of getting it,” you rolled your eyes. “Seemed like you just wanted to sit and sulk under this tree.”
“I’m not sulking,” Gally scowled.
“Coulda fooled me.”
“Since when is sitting under a tree considered sulking?” Gally countered.
“It’s the storming out of a room to sit under a tree that makes it sulking.”
“I’m not sulking.” Gally said firmly, turning to look in front of him. “Got nothing to sulk about anyway.”
“Good.”
Gally dared to allow his eyes to dart back over to you, to try and get a glimpse of an emotion on your face. His attempt was futile, of course. Your face was impossible to read since the moment you arrived in the glade. He on the other hand wore his anger for everyone to see, ensuring anyone who came close enough would be scalded by his fiery exterior.
“So are you gonna give me the ice or what?” Gally retorted, when the silence began to grow to suffocating.
“Was just about to, actually.”
“Didn’t seem that way.”
You supressed a groan as you turned back to face him.
“Here, then.” You reached for his right hand.
His hand was calloused and slightly clammy – something Gally was hyper-aware of and growing deeply embarrassed about. You carefully undid the pin before unravelling the bandage to reveal an angry shade of red painted across his knuckles, the skin visibly irritated.
“Doesn’t look too good, huh?” You murmured.
Gally would’ve replied with a jab at how this was completely, single-handedly your fault but was deeply preoccupied by the feeling of your hand pressed into his. At that point, Gally was sure that you could hit his hand with a million drills and even follow it up with a swift kick in the head, and he wouldn’t even care as long as his hand ended up under your touch.
Meanwhile, you found yourself deeply preoccupied at the sight of his hands. The feeling of his hand in yours. How natural it felt. This deeply surprised you. Dirt was carved into his nail beds and seemed to have seeped into the callouses littered across his hand, dyeing them a shade deeper than his already slightly tanned skin tone. Surprisingly, you didn’t feel the urge to chastise him on his poor hygiene but instead obsessively thinking about the idea of running your finger of his hand, tracing the bumps and scars – kissing them better. Gally (thankfully) brought your attention back to his injury when he awkwardly coughed, his eyes focussed on you with confusion and a slight bit of embarrassment.
“They’re not actually dirty,” he looked down at you, forcing your eyes to meet his in desperation to prove he was in fact clean. “It’s like carved in. I’ve scrubbed ‘em with soap – promise.”
His words laced with concern brought you back to your senses, leading to the realisation of how weird you must have seemed.
“Whatever you say.”
Gally frowned slightly, uncertain of whether you were joking or not.
“You sure are taking your time with that ice.”
“So impatient.” You rolled your eyes.
You pressed the ice over his skin, eliciting a low hiss from Gally (much to his distaste). Despite his mind willing you not to notice, you of course heard his reaction to the contact of the ice and unsurprisingly, took advantage of his display of weakness.
“Can’t handle a bit of ice?” You quipped.
Gally’s eyes glared at you as he rolled his shoulder back, readjusting his position.
“I’m fine,” Gally muttered, taking the ice out of your hand so he could hold it to his hand himself. “Just the heat – the sun y’know.”
“Mmm, if you say so.” You mused.
“Yeah, I do say so.”
You did have to admit it was absolutely sweltering. It felt as though no matter how often you wiped your forehead; sweat was forever beading across your hairline.
“Do you think it’s the Creator’s that made it so hot today?” You asked after a beat of silence.
“Who else?” Gally scoffed.
“I dunno, maybe just the sun naturally did that.”
“It’s never done that before.”
“Global warming’s killing the planet, I read it in one of those books the Creator’s sent up.”
“Well I don’t think global warming just suddenly hits all at once.” Gally contested.
“Says who?” You challenged. “Do you even know what global warming is?”
“I know what global warming is.” Gally glowered.
“I doubt that,” you replied dismissively.
Apparently this was a sore subject for Gally, who knew perfectly well the reputation the Builders had developed as being dumb. All of a sudden he felt overwhelmed. Overwhelmed at the tugging in his heart, the tingles erupting on his hand under your touch, and the idea that the girl who was making him feel like this thought he was dumb. And with that, he sat up abruptly, turning to look back at you with a glare.
“I’m not stupid, Y/n.” Gally spat, tugging his hand out of your grip.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” you heaved a sigh.
“Yeah, whatever.” Gally grunted, pushing himself off from the floor to stand up.
“Where are you going?” You frowned, mimicking his actions.
“Back to work. Can’t just sit around pickin’ daises all day with you.” Gally huffed.
“I’m not ‘picking daisies’,” you scowled. “I was talking to you. What are you even mad about now?”
“I’m not mad ‘bout anything.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
He actually wasn’t lying when he said he wasn’t mad.
Yes, he may have been slightly annoyed that you perceived him so shallowly but truthfully, he was more embarrassed that a girl as brilliant as you might think so lowly of him. But of course, he was too embarrassed about being embarrassed to express that to you. So, in a weak attempt to communicate, this he gave you a weak smile that (despite his best attempt) bordered on being more of a grimace.
“Thanks for the ice,” he nodded.
“S’okay.” You replied, confusion pinching at your face.
“You can have the day off; we’re running ahead anyway.” Gally offered, desperate to escape the situation that he had single-handedly caused to be an unnecessary level of awkward.
“Didn’t you say at the start of the day we were real behind?”
“Sorry ‘bout that by the way.” You added on with a guilty smile.
He had actually been lying about that.
While they had gotten significantly less work done than usual due to your distractions, the builders had been ahead by a couple of days already. Ahead enough that they were still actually ahead now. In fact, he had only claimed to be behind because he found himself actually enjoying your company.
“Uh, yeah,” Gally coughed, his cheeks beginning to bloom with a rosy tone. “Yeah, we caught up when you went on your big ice-seeking mission. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”
“That’s good then.” You nodded.
“Yeah.”
After a second of silence and a moment of hesitation, Gally cleared his throat.
“Alright, I’ll see you around.”
“Alright,” you called out as Gally hurried off. “Bye.”
And with that, he left you standing under the shade of the tree, confusion lingering amongst the balmy air.
Surprisingly, you found that your mind wasn’t caught up in figuring out ways to combat the harsh beams of the sun directed at you, but instead on the absence of Gally’s hand in yours and how desperately you longed for his hand to return to yours. And with that thought plaguing your mind, you decided it would only be right to talk to Gally again. Not because you liked his company and the thought of him angry at your burned your heart stronger than the sun could possibly burn your skin, but because you weren’t looking for Alby to receive another complaint from you.
