the last of the real ones | tom holland & peter parker x reader

what's your deal, man? | t.h.

October 2015

You rushed into your first hour Chemistry class four minutes before the bell rang. Dropping your backpack on the tile floor, you slid in your seat while opening the gradebook app on your phone. You took a quiz in Anatomy & Physiology two days ago and wanted to check and see if Mr. Easton had input your grade yet.

CHEMISTRY - 86% - B
AP ENGLISH IV - 96.5% - A
H. PSYCHOLOGY - 99% - A+
TRIGONOMETRY - 81.5% - B-
H. GOVERNMENT - 94% - A
ANATOMY & PHYSIOLOGY - 89% - B+

The A&P quiz wasn't in yet, but the quick grade-check reminded you that you needed to pay attention to your Trig grade. If it dropped to a C, you'd die. You clicked the power button on your phone and threw it in your bag as the bell rang.

Ms. Brady greeted the class and started on her lecture about ionic bonds. You were so focused on trying to comprehend the material that you didn't notice the classroom door open ten minutes into the period. When Ms. Brady turned and looked, your gaze followed.

"Er, hello," the guy at the door said to Ms. Brady as she took the note from him. Her eyes glanced over it before turning to the classroom of students.

"Class, this is our new student, Tom Carter. Tom, welcome to our school. You can sit down wherever."

New Kid wandered over, slipping into the empty desk to the diagonal-left of you and--damnit--he distracted you from the lesson. Not because he was cute--though he definitely was. Because, how the hell did he get into Bronx High School of Science in October? The school had a ridiculously thorough acceptance process--you would know, you had to do it three times. It took all summer. He had to be some kind of mega-genius to be let in now.

After being sidetracked by theories all class, you jotted down the homework assignment in your planner then confronted him while everyone was putting their things away at the end of the period.

"Hey, Tom," you said. He turned back to you. "It's Tom, right?"

"Right."

You pointed at the whiteboard where the assignment was scrawled, then offered, "I'll pay you twenty dollars to do my chemistry homework."

Tom laughed. "I highly doubt you want me to do your homework."

"So, they didn't let you into the school because you're some kind of science prodigy?" you asked quizzically.

"Nope," he answered with a mischievous smile. "Must've been some other reason."

Then class bell rang, and Tom ducked out of the classroom without a trace. You, however, were left standing in the dust, trying to process. If he wasn't a genius, what was he? And, more importantly, was that... flirtation in his final words?

You knew you had to further investigate on both fronts. But the situation was weird. No one else in the room seemed to bat an eyelash about him, though. The young geniuses had been glued to the lecture. Tom, however, had seemed to be studying the students.

----

You kept an eye out for Tom all day. You found that along with first block Chemistry, he was in your Trig class. Because, of course good-looking mystery boy would be in the classes you actually needed to pay attention to in order to pass, because life could never be fair or easy. You only had one more class of the day, and it fell in that category: Anatomy & Physiology.

You sat in your usual spot in the back of the classroom, letting the teenage Einsteins have at the desks further up. Fifteen seconds before the bell rang, New Guy came in as well. He slipped into the back of the classroom, clearly trying not the catch the eye of Mr. Easton and have to be introduced yet again. He sat in the empty desk on your left unsurely.