𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋

twenty three

warning: language, sex

"Oh my god, why the fuck am I freaking out?"

Peter scrambles around the kitchen finishing up his touches to the breakfast he prepared for Ryder, putting the pancakes on a separate glass plate and the french toast on another, as well as the orange juice pre-poured and the fruit bowl in the middle of the table. He set up two place mats on the counter (in which he gives her the nicer plate), and every time he steps back to analyze his organization, he finds something new to place or swap on the table, further increasing his worry.

"You're always freaking out."

Peter groans, squeezing his cell between his shoulder and his cheek as he swaps the pancake and french toast plate. "Ned, you're not helping, you're supposed to be calming me down."

"I'm doing my best here. You just need to act normal, alright? Treat this as any other night, with the exception of asking her out. Simple!"

"God, shit, I'm shaking she's gonna be here in a minute!" shrieks Peter frantically, scanning his eyes over the apartment to make sure the majority of it is clean.

Ned squeals on the other end. "Oh my god! I'm so excited, you have to tell me everything and if you leave one detail out I will physically-"

There's three knocks on the door and Peter sucks in a breath, immediately shushing his best friend.

"Shit," he hisses, "alright she's here, she's here, I gotta go, holy shit I gotta go, Ned, I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

Ned says his goodbye and Peter hangs up quickly, shoving his phone in the pocket of his sweatpants, and putting finishing touches to his already messy hair in the small dirty mirror attached to the cheap coat hanger just beside the door. His heart beats out of his chest as he tells himself that this is like any other night - except it's not, and that thought keeps resurfacing his mind and causing a mild internal panic, because the thought of her saying no tears through his heart.

He just hopes he doesn't ruin anything, and he hopes that the distant rumble of thunder outside isn't Thor trying to screw up his date.

Peter sucks in a breath and opens the door, revealing Ryder, clad in grey sweat-shorts barely noticeable underneath her oversized TMG sweatshirt, hair done up in a messy bun with small pieces caressing her delicate face. He knows she doesn't see it, but Peter thinks she's the most beautiful woman to walk the earth, even wearing a trash bag she can win a beauty pageant. She radiates tranquility and excitement, the oxymoronic being two different things at the same time without even realizing. She's a candle to the flame, bright, extravagant, unknowing of her beauty and her ability to light up the room around her. She wears a wide smile, a beaming one, as she holds up a platter of cookies covered in saran wrap.

"I brought a surprise," she grins as he reciprocates, engulfing her in a welcoming hug, a short one that makes his heart pound.

They step into the apartment and as Ryder takes her shoes off and places the platter on the kitchen counter, she whistles at the counter covered in food and platters. "Jesus, Parker, you really outdid yourself this time." Softer, she says, "Everything looks amazing, thank you."

"Anything for you."

The pair waste no time digging in to the food, Ryder inhaling the food (seeing as she hasn't eaten in hours) while Peter laughs at her with whipped cream on her nose. They talk aimlessly about their week at school, the girl telling him about her numerous meetings involving handing over responsibilities to the upcoming seniors (and how they're not nearly as capable as handling them as Ryder did), and how Peter helped a woman yesterday get her cat out of one of the trees in the suburbs.