tom holland oneshots

one day soon P.P.

request: can you do a best!friends to lovers with a really affectionate reader and flustered peter?

wc: 1.3k

—

If Peter had a penny for every time you wanted to touch him in some remote way, he'd probably be rich. If he had a penny for everytime he wanted you to touch him, well then he'd be the wealthiest man alive.

Maybe you were obvious, or maybe touch was your love language. Peter wasn't sure why he was speaking it, though. You weren't dating — hell, you weren't even together. Of course, Peter had those feelings for you. Of course he longed to have you in his embrace for as long as he could bear — which, granted, was a lot. He tries not to think about it, because if he does, he knows you won't ever leave his mind.

Not that you normally do, but still.

For the first year of college, May insisted Peter take the dormitory grant that came with his scholarship. Tony knew the expenses were difficult for May, so he offered to help out. It took awhile for her to agree, but it happened nonetheless.

It's where the two of you normally hang out. Occasionally, the two of you are found at a picnic table near your favorite tree or the library, but most days you're slouching in his bed with a book in front of you. He always takes the desk; he's polite that way.

"Hey, Pete." You're entering his dorm without even knocking, surprising Harry who's slipping a shirt on in the corner.

"Jesus!" Harry's caught off guard and Peter chuckles. You laugh, kissing Peter's cheek before situating your belongings on the bed, backpack slipping off your shoulders smoothly. Harry eyes Peter knowingly, who's a blushing mess. He rolls his eyes at the wall crawler before bidding goodbye while closing the door on his way out.

"Can you help me with Rodrigo's work?" The two of you have the same lecture at different times, so studying is a lot more convenient. Peter looks up from his notebook before his face melts into a soft smile, nodding with a gentle "okay."

You're scooting over on the small mattress. Peter carefully slides in next to you, eyes finding the examples you're working on. You lean into his side so you don't fall off the bed, arm going under his so your arms are linked. He tries not to blush too much, but he knows he's failed when he feels his face heat up exponentially.

He starts discussing the first page with you, and you're nodding along before you lean your head on his shoulder. He tries to focus — god, he tries so damn hard to focus — but you're so close, leaning into him like he's the only thing supporting you, the only thing keeping you up. He's trying, but you're right there next to him, right in his reach, right there at his touch. You're so close he can smell your perfume, so close he can hear your heartbeat in his ears without even focusing on it.

"Y'alright?" You bring him out of his daze after you notice his words have slowed until he's frozen, staring at you.

"Uhm- uh... y-yeah. I'm- I'm fine." He rubs his forehead, wiping the palms of his hands on his denim-clad thigh.

You stifle a laugh. "Are you sure?" You grin slyly, noticing his rising state of flux.

"Mhm." He merely hums in response, not trusting his words.

The sunlight that comes in through the window, hits your face cooly, and he sucks in a breath. You look like a goddess — like something from those aesthetic pinterest boards you always show him. You're calm yet encapsulating, and he's suffocating on you. He's okay with that, though. It feels too good to slow it down or stop it altogether.

Peter finishes his train of thought before joining you in completing the assignments from your lecture. You're cracking jokes along the way, laughing so hard you can't contain yourself. Peter doesn't bother staying on track either. You're so close he's practically drunk on you.

After ten minutes of goofing off, you slide down, laying your head in Peter's lap while you inquire about nothing in relation to your lecture's work.

"Pete," You speak childishly, and he chuckles at your demeanor. "How long do your webs last?"

"Usually four hours. Why?"

"No reason." You reach for his hands, playing with his lanky fingers, separating them and smoothing over the grooves and rough edges as you relax atop him. He feels his face burning up again, but concludes you're just absentmindedly playing with his hands.

"Do you have to make it yourself all the time or does Mr. Stark do it now?"

"Both." You grab his other hand, now, repeating what you've done with his right hand. "Mr. Stark makes it for my suit but I'm coming up with updates."

You hum, intertwining your fingers with his before letting your hands rest on your chest. He hopes you won't look up and notice how red he's gotten. Your hands fit into his so well.

Stop that Peter. He's trying to humble himself, calm himself down and convince himself that you're just an affectionate person.

Then again, he's never seen you greet anyone else with a kiss on the cheek, so he could be wrong. He doesn't think of it too much, because after five minutes, you sit up, unlinking your hands. Peter tries not to seem too disappointed, but it's obvious in the way he deflates.

"Cuddle?" You ask softly, almost as if the silence has tired you out. It's barely eight-thirty, but Peter smiles in agreement anyways.

You return his smile softly, moving your supplies off the bed and laying down, hugging him tightly while you inhale his scent, breathing deeply in relief.

"How are you always so warm?"

He chuckles. "Maybe you're always cold."
"Then you need to fix that." You're mumbling into his skin. "You're the one with the warmth." He hums and the vibrations make you giggle.

Inside, Peter's heart is clambering against his ribcage. He prays you can't hear it, but he's positive you wouldn't need a spider sense to pick up on how nervous he is.

"You- uh... are you tired?"

"Mhm." You confirm it, eyes closing lazily.

"You could sleep over, y'know. I know you don't have a lecture until eleven, so..." He trails off and you laugh at him.

"I can really sleep over? You don't mind?"

His tongue clicks. "Of course I don't mind. You know that."

"I know." You smile cheekily. "Nice to hear it every once 'n awhile, though."

He laughs and it shakes you up, his chest bouncing underneath you. You hold him tighter, arms wrapping around him. His laugh quiets as that shuts him up. "Y-yeah I... I get it."

You laugh again at the stumble over his words. "You're silly."

"Sure."

With an eye roll, you exhale against him, arms instinctively taking home against his abdomen. With the flutter of your eyes, you fall asleep.

When you awake, Peter's sitting at his desk doing work. It's only just past nine o'clock, yet you realize how much you've slept. You rub the sleep from your eyes, a yawn slipping past your lips, alarming Peter that you're awake.

"G'morning, sleepyhead. Sleep well?"

You grin. "Always, with you."

He smiles and you stand up, wrinkles on your shirt flattened by your hands. "I should go so I can get ready for class." Peter hums in acknowledgement. "I'll be back in twenty." You kiss his cheek before leaving him in the room.

When you're gone, Peter exhales, his nerves settling.

"When're you gonna ask her out?" Harry breaks the silence, emerging from under the covers. Peter jumps, surprised and startled at the sound of a new voice.

"Don't do that, Harry." Peter grumbles, resuming his work.

"Do what?" He smirks. Peter rolls his eyes in response. "I'm just saying, man." He slips on some sweatpants, abandoning the covers.

"Yeah, I know." Peter sighs, pondering his words. "Soon."