Public Knowledge (Sweet Pea x Reader)

The First Session

You were surprised to find Sweet Pea waiting for you in Mr. Adams' room, computer already open in front of him. And apparently that surprise was written all over your face.

"Don't look so shocked," Sweet Pea narrowed his eyes, his hand curling into a fist on the desk.

You shook your head, just continuing to stare at him as he sat, fuming, in the middle of the empty English classroom. "Just–how did you get here so fast?" you breathed out, remaining standing in the doorway and attempting to ignore the twisting feeling in your gut that was reminding you how terrible of an idea this whole arrangement was. Sweet Pea jerked back as if you'd just broken out into song , his mouth hanging open for the briefest of seconds before he snapped it shut and furrowed his eyebrows. He didn't say anything. "You were just with me in Skinner's class, and that's like," you waved an arm in the vague direction of the classroom halfway across the school on the second floor. "And I saw you leave talking to your friends. Didn't you have to finish the conversation you were having or at least answer questions about why you're staying late?"

"Why? You think Serpents are just deadbeats who don't do extracurricular activities after school? We have other interests besides our bikes and Serpent business. Topaz is on the Vixens and Fogarty is with Keller trying to get another show up and going."

You held up your hands. "I just—wish I could make it through these halls as fast as you. That's all I was saying."

Yep. This was quite possibly the worst idea you'd ever had. Being stuck alone in an empty classroom with the human equivalent of a land mine and only the watchful eyes of Shakespeare, Poe, and Hilary Swank from Freedom Writers to chaperone. Not that you needed a chaperone. More like a translator.

He shrugged, letting out an annoyed exhale. "Are you going to continue to interrogate me or can we work on this essay?"

"Oh, yeah, right, ok," you mumbled, walking further in and sinking into the seat next to his. "Did you start already?"

"Of course I started," Sweet Pea said through gritted teeth. "I told you I'm not stupid. I need help not my hand held."

You flushed, staring back at him, keeping your lips pressed shut. His eyes bore into yours, the snarl still on his face as he tried to stare you down. You opened your mouth and then shut it again, rethinking what you were about to say. "What?" he snapped.

"I'm just thinking this is going to be a hell of a long hour if you're going to get angry every time I'm awkward or say the wrong thing because I don't know if you noticed, being the smart person you are, but I'm constantly sticking my foot in my mouth," you retorted.

And then what you just said–or rather how you said it and who you said it to–sunk in and your eyes grew wide.

"I–I–mean–"

He narrowed his eyes staring at you. It would be nice to die right now. You know, before he had the chance to murder you.

"I just mean I'm not nearly smart enough to come up with these clever little slights to insult you just because I'm bored. I'm no Cheryl Blossom. I only–"

You were cut off by Sweet Pea snorting. "You do realize you sort of did one right now."

You opened and shut your mouth. Several times. And then came the stuttering. "I didn't mean to imply that she's always like that. I mean she kind of is, so honestly it was more of an observation than anything clever. And I don't want to insult her. I don't want to insult anyone. I told you I was good at sticking my foot down my mouth. Honestly it's more like I shove my whole leg down there. Ugh that's weird to say. I–Um–I just–"

He let out an amused exhale, his eyes darting to the side as if looking to see if someone else in the empty classroom was getting a load of the train wreck he was witnessing. "Don't worry," he said, rolling his eyes. "I won't tell her you said anything."

"Thank you," you sighed, hiding your head in your arms.

You could feel him looking at you, but it did nothing to draw you out of your self-imposed exile. You were reminded of when you were little and you truly believed–despite your parents' arguments about faulty logic–that if you couldn't see someone, they couldn't see you. You hoped Sweet Pea was staring at the suddenly empty chair where you had been sitting wondering where you went and how you developed super powers.

"Hey."

You should have known you were never that lucky. You felt a nudge against your arm, and you looked up.

"I'm Sweet Pea."

You stared at the hand he had extended, your eyes trailing up his arm to his carefully blank face. Your face wrinkled in confusion as you slowly slid your hand into his. His fingers curled around your hand and shook it a few times, as you fought the blush rising in your cheeks and tried to ignore how his hand was warm and just a little bit rough except for the cool metal from his rings.

"And you are..." he prompted. You stared at him for a second more and he sighed, as if disappointed you were confused about why someone you already knew was introducing himself to you. "If we're gonna restart as...acquaintances, it'd be nice to know your name."

"Y/N," you said, a small smile forming on your face.

"Wanna read this paper and help me with the analysis, Y/N?" Sweet Pea asked, letting go of your hand and gesturing to his open computer with his head.

"Yeah, definitely," you nodded, pulling it in between the two of you to look over. Maybe this arrangement wouldn't be so bad.