Spiderlinging
"Professor Stark," he muttered, not bothering to hide his indifference at the man's arrival. Standing up from the dirt, Peter brushed himself off as he got a better look at the man standing before him.
It had been three years. Three years, and still, his pulse skipped at the sight of him, just as it had back when he was a student in Stark's class.
He should be over this.
He WAS over this.
And yet, as he took in the way the flickering candlelight danced against the older man's sharp features, a traitorous part of him wanted to step closer instead of turning him away.