Turns out, trying to use a fake name and social security number to officially sign up for a job at Google, was tough. Huh. Who'd've thunk it.
So, that didn't exactly go smoothly, but you'd lie to Peter and tell him they decided to go another way – not a complete lie. And hopefully, this would only matter until after February fourteenth, but it was hardly mid-January, so you'd have to manage until then.
"Okay, so I got these today." He told you after you broke the news, tossing you an orange bottle of pills before going back to loading his laundry in as you sat on top of one of the dryers with Powder chilling on your head.
"What..." You trailed off, safely taking the guinea pig down to snuggle into the crook of your neck, his favorite spot to snooze on you, "Anti-depressants?"
"Yeah, my doctor gave them to me."
"I figured the fortune teller on the boardwalk did," You deadpanned sarcastically and then cleared your throat, not noticing it made him smile, "Sorry – but this is good, right? I mean, it'll help, yeah?"
"I feel like you tell someone you're sad once in a while and they just shut you up with pills sometimes – I'm not against taking them, but I don't think I need to," He frowned, his eyebrows pulling together in thought as he fed the machine quarters, and then he turned to you with his hands out, "I need my emotional support pig."
"Of course," You smirked, scooping the monster up and handing him over for Peter to cuddle, "So, maybe give them a go and if it's shit, then we'll just finally move in together so I can always be there to try baking brownies together, that always cheers you up."
You gave him a cheeky smile and he huffed a laugh, actually feeling better with your attempt to help him with this new stuff. You've both gone through a lot of crap before meeting nearly a year ago when you were about nineteen that you still couldn't talk about. Yours was even before that and you hated it to this day, so you took his silence as an excuse to keep your history in the dark as well.
"Yeah," He smiled down at Powder shyly, maybe a little embarrassed, but you didn't know why, "But do you think tonight we could just hang out and watch that reality show? It was a long day and I could really use you guys tonight – maybe I could stay over?"
He looked up at you with big, hopeful brown eyes, his chocolate hair falling in his face a little as it curled more with the heat in this place thanks to the dryers. Plus, it was in the dark basement of your guys' apartment building and was probably a hotbed for mold and asbestos – not that that had anything to do with his hair, but it felt worth mentioning. Probably why you guys usually always had the place to yourselves because while the machines were decently priced, maybe even cheap for the city, it was old, run down, and smelt funny.
"Yeah, 'course," You answered without a thought, smiling at him, "Anything you need, Pete, you know Powder would lay on his sword for you like a loyal little soldier."
"I don't like that image," He frowned, holding the pig closer to his chest, "Take that back and say you would never let it happen!"
"I will guard you both with my life." You told him seriously, putting a hand to your heart with stiff posture, and he smiled, satisfied, as Powder started purring.
"He's probably hungry."
"I fed him an egg this morning," You scoffed, "How high maintenance can one guinea be?"
"Guinea pigs don't eat eggs and it's almost two!" He huffed, half faking his concern because he knew you were joking, "Come on, we'll make that salad he loves."
"I don't love salad." You pouted and he rolled his eyes.
"Not everything is about you, and we've got an hour until the cycle of these are done, so let's get something to eat."
"Fine," You groaned, sliding off the machine and ignoring the sign that said not to put weight on them before you followed him out, "And everything is about me, don't forget that Parker – I'm the main character here."
"And what does that make us?" He whined, gesturing to himself and Powder, "Side characters? Extras? That's insulting."
"No, you're my ride or dies!" You laughed and he joined you, shaking his head as you both braced yourselves to climb the five stories back up to your floor, but he never seemed to struggle as much as you did in the end.
A couple of hours later, you were both folding clothes, his going back into the basket while yours went into your dresser under the TV and eating cold pizza from the other day with a salad that was more for Powder and him if anyone.
"Did your mother not teach you any manners?" He scolded when you tore into your crust like an animal and then you chewed behind a shit eating grin as he grimaced, "Come on!"
"Guess not," You shrugged, closing your mouth to chew like a human being and then you swallowed before continuing, "But you never talk about your mom – was she strict with the ruler?" You paused, but before he could respond, you asked, "And if so, is she single? Call me mom, Pete, I wanna see how it sounds."
"You're disgusting," He grumbled, shaking his head before he added, "But no, my aunt May raised me, really."
"By herself?" You asked and he nodded, so you mirrored him, folding a jumper before you muttered, "Yeah, it was just me and my mom growing up, so I get it. Mostly."
"You kind of mentioned she uh...passed? Right?" He spoke carefully, afraid of upsetting you, and you only gave a half shrug in response, but he knew you enough to know that was a yes, "Sorry. My aunt died too. Not that long ago."
"Sucks, 'm sorry."
"Thanks."
"Love the heavy shit," You forced an uncomfortable laugh, so it was short lived, "But I do have a question for you."
"Shoot." He raised his eyebrows, surprised and curious.
"I know it's nearly three weeks away," You prefaced, and he thought ahead, doing the math to figure out the day, before furrowing his eyebrows, wondering what you were getting at right before you asked, "But do you have any plans for Valentine's Day?"
"No," He shook his head immediately, "Why? Are you...?"
"No, no," You hurried out, both of you smiling knowingly, "Neither of us would be down for that for very different reasons."
"True." He chuckled, remembering he told you about having to let the girl he loved go because he thought she'd be happier and safer without him – you had questions, but again, if you don't want to pour your heart out, you don't push others to do it.
"But I'm going to a...party," You cleared your throat and he narrowed his eyes curiously, "And I was wondering if you'd like to be my plus one – could use a strapping young lad on my arm for the night – make all the fancy people jealous," When he opened his mouth to respond, about to tease you for your wording, you were quick to add, "You could do that swoop thing with your hair," You gestured to the top of your head the shape it was and he smirked, huffing a quiet laugh, "And rent a tux or something."
"So, it's fancy-fancy."
"The fanciest."
"Is it a...Stark party?" He asked slowly, his eyes narrowing again, and you frowned, shaking your head.
"No, it's not."
"Oh, just thought it might be."
"Why'd you think that?" You furrowed your eyebrows, keeping your eyes on him to study his expression, and he only shrugged, avoiding meeting your eyes with his.
"They throw big holiday parties, so I just guessed."
"Okay," You dragged out the vowels, showing him you weren't totally buying it, but then you moved on for now, "So, are you in or out?"
"I'm in."
You smiled with a nod and then bit into another piece, getting your hand swatted, making the slice fall, when you reached over to continue organizing your clothes. You laughed as he scowled at you and neither of you mentioned families or the party again as he brought up something in his lecture and you told him about the stuff you were working on.
