Tutoring Sessions 01 P.P

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Summary: The reader needs a tutor for math so MJ volunteers Peter (knowing that Peter likes the reader)

Warning: Fluff

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Hands tangled in your hair, your fingers kneading into your skull, massaging the aching headache away before it even fully approaches; you're stressed and a heavy sigh falls from your lips, a mixture of tired and boredom dragged into it in one simple breath.
You're staring–staring, staring, staring–continuously at the pages and equations that are laid out in front of you on the work desk, and it all seems like jumbled garbage, the numbers making loops in your brain before they leave out through the other ear, leaving you no more educated or enlightened than previously. Your focus and frustration, both overpowering any trace of relief or happiness in your body at the moment, are concentrated into your pencil as it practically cuts into your notebook paper hard, making useless chicken scratch as you hold back the urge to let out a purely horrific scream of agony. You were ready to wave your white flag, and your tutor hadn't even arrived yet.
You had been waiting in the music room for about twenty minutes, trying to do some of your AP Calculus work on your own, but quite obviously it was to no avail. Michelle, or MJ, told you that she'd meet you in here since it was quiet and she could properly teach you how to correctly calculate everything in time for the make-up exam you had to take in a few days time so that you could keep your 4.0 GPA and your spot in an advanced class. MJ seemed like a reliable person you could depend on, and so the fact that she still wasn't here to help you with something you so desperately needed help with, was disappointing, and not to mention: a gigantic waste of your time.
The clock ticks, almost as if it's mocking you, and you wonder if your Mom will kill you for making her wait outside in her car for as long as you did. The rustle of papers and the door being opened catches your attention, however, and you crane your neck to see who had walked in.
"Peter?" You're confused, and the sight of him carrying a stack of textbooks with a pencil hanging out of his mouth doesn't make the situation any better. "I thought MJ was going to..."
Peter walks over and places his things on a plastic chair before sitting next to you, taking the pencil out of his mouth to smile shyly, refusing to meet your eyes. "MJ told me that you, uh, needed help with Mrs. Garderner's class and I'm getting all A's in that class, so she figured that I could tutor you. If that's okay."
Your eyebrows knitted together as you thought of MJ. Her grades were just as good as Peter's, and you and her talked more often–so, why would she randomly ditch and send Peter in her place? You're not bothered or annoyed, considering that Peter was rather sweet to you and could take up interesting conversation when he was feeling less nervous, but you just didn't get it.
What was MJ up to?
"Yeah, of course it's okay," you answer him as he takes out his notes and just stares at them in his lap, tapping his pencil against his jeans. "I just need this session to finish up early, because I told my mom last minute and she's in the car waiting."
"Oh, we could reschedule if you want. I wouldn't want to keep you or your mom waiting," he says and he finally looks up to meet your gaze. You grin at him to ease him up, and chuckle when he blushes. "I'm sorry about being late, by the way. I usually get out at 2:45 sharp and MJ told me literally as I ran out the door."
"It's fine, I'll just text my mom and tell her that I'm running a lot later than I thought," you inform him, taking out your phone to do just that and you glance at him, his hand nervously brushing a lock of wavy brown hair out of his eyes. "My make-up test is in a couple days, so I need to be tutored everyday until then. I told all of this to MJ, but I'm not sure if she told any of this to you."
"No, she didn't. But that's okay, I'm sure I can squeeze you into my schedule," Peter says playfully, and you laugh and raise an eyebrow.
"Wow, you're getting cockier by the minute, Peter Parker. I don't know if I want to actually go through with this tutoring deal now."
"No! I mean, I was joking, [Y/N], I wasn't trying to be arrogant or anything–"
"Peter, Peter," you interrupt, cutting him off, "I know. Come on, chill. I'm as calm as they come." You wink at him before giggling. "And don't bring up that time I threw up during our field trip last month where I was super nervous, because I know you were there and by that amused look on your face, I can tell you know what I'm talking about. If you make fun of me, I really don't think I can go through with us."
"Us?" Peter asks absentmindedly as he opens up the right textbook after closing up the wrong one. He wonders if you notice how fast his heart is beating. The close proximity between you makes electricity run through his entire body and he finds himself tapping away his adrenaline via foot-against-tile to get rid of it.
"Yes, us," you repeat, "I'm pretty sure we're going to be best friends after these tutoring sessions. I could give Ned a run for his money."
Peter chuckles. "Oh, I don't know, Ned is pretty competitive."
"I guess we'll have to see if I ace this test first," you shrug, tucking a piece of hair back behind you ear, turning towards your work so you can actually learn something with Peter here, and because of this you fail to notice him biting his lip as he admires you.
He wants to tell you how beautiful you look right now, and how fluttery you makes his heart in a way no one else can, and how much he hates MJ for doing this to him when she knows every single detail about how he feels about you–but at the same time, he's so incredibly thankful because he could've never volunteered without a little push. And at this point, he's staring, hopelessly staring, and he's marking down the slope of your nose and the way you're currently sticking the tip of your tongue out in concentration whilst writing down copies of his notes. He can't help it, he can't help but do his absolute best to refrain from bursting at the seams just so he won't blow his cover and mess things up with you, and he finally looks away to get his mind off of you and onto what he's here for: math.
He's just your tutor, your friend who's here to help, and he doesn't know why he's suddenly acting like this. God, he thinks, Spider-Man would handle this situation so much better than Peter Parker right now; and he's so focused on not focusing on you, that he doesn't even realize the look in your eyes as you turn to look at him.
"Are you okay, Pete?" you ask, and you take notice of the fact that he hasn't said anything in the past five minutes. "Ready to get to work?"
He nods, and apologizes of course, because he's Peter Parker and that's his thing, and he steals a glimpse of you one more time, wishing he had Karen from his suit to give him the motivation to say how he feels about you. But he doesn't, so he can't. And so, instead, what he says in the end is just this:
"Yeah, let's get to work."

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