Infelicity [P. Parker x Reader]

t h i r t y - s e v e n

The cool touch of the countertop erupted in my senses. My elbows had just rested against them as I contemplated what I would be eating this evening.

I'd hate to bug Ms. Farina again, especially since she fed me most weeknights.

Running through the few options I had for the millionth time, I decided upon an option I hadn't done in a while.

I made the short trek from Brooklyn to Queens in record time, food fueling my thoughts. Passing by some very familiar apartments, I paused. Number three's are always needed in any scenario.

So, as one would do, I found a scrap sheet of paper lying around and wrote in big, bolded letters.

Next step in "Let's Get Peter Out of the House" was to throw a rock at his window, again. Having done this before, I knew it'd take a couple of tries.

Attempts took a hot minute, and his spidey-senses weren't helping me out today for some strange reason.

Throwing the last rock I could find, it hit against the pane with a thud, possibly the loudest it had been in a while.

A mop of brown hair stuck itself out of the window and I shouted great praises to myself in success. I almost completely forgot about the sign resting in my hand, but in praise, I remembered.

Holding it up high, I watched as he squinted at the one word, a slight smile spreading on his face.

Within minutes, Peter was walking out of the front of the apartment complex.

"What brought up this impromptu Delmar's visit?" Peter asked, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

"A number three was calling my name," I said with a shrug. "No other reason should be needed."

"Dang, and I thought you actually wanted to see me."

"The sandwich definitely comes first."

My serious tone couldn't stay serious for long, and we both burst out laughing.

As soon as we stepped foot into the small shop, we were greeted by the ever familiar Mr. Delmar, but he clearly hadn't aged since we had last seen him; he too, was a member of the dusting.

"My two favorite customers!" Mr. Delmar greeted.

"Hello again, Mr. Delmar. It's been years since I saw you last," I joked.

"(Y/N), don't you think that joke's a bit too soon?"

"I mean, when would it ever be a good time to bring up the snap and its many comedic purposes. What happened happened and we can't change it. Just gotta make what we have even better than before."

I looked over at Peter for assurance in my statement and I got a small, hesitant nod. He must be having a hard time believing what I said, all things considered.

Noticing the mood shift, Mr. Delmar clapped his hands together, asking, "So, what can I get for you kids?"

"The usual," Peter perked up.

"Comin' right up. Smashed down flat," he pointed in Peter's direction, "and not smashed down. Both with extra pickles."

He headed to his workspace, so I headed to the back to grab us some Cokes as well as some chips. Peter just stood there looking at a Tony Stark magazine on the rack.

"Hey, Peter?" I called from the back. "What kind do you want?"

"Uh, the stuff I get every time," he mumbled back.