take your chance.

What’s wrong with showing up to a party just to see your crush?
Nothing. Right? Totally normal.

Well—he was also here because of other people. Friends. There was Tony...and Deadpool, and...
Okay, not the point.

The point was, he liked you. And there wasn’t anything wrong with that. Really. Liking someone smart and kind and absurdly out of his league? Totally normal behavior.

But, okay, maybe something could go wrong if he somehow managed to ruin his first (and probably only) shot at talking to you.

Which, yeah. Sounds like something he'd totally do.

જ⁀➴Unestablished relationship

જ⁀➴1K Special! Find more versions of this scenario here 💜.

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⸻InfinityScrub⸻

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Not being an Avenger—not officially, at least—yet still getting invited to events like this one? It meant more to Peter than he liked to admit.

Sure, most of the time he felt like background noise in a room like this. Gods, aliens, people who could lift cities or summon lightning with a flick of their wrist. It was a lot. But here, in this warm blur of music and laughter and glittering lights where nobody was fighting for their life or racing against a world-ending threat, he didn’t feel like the weird kid from Queens who got bit by a spider and started climbing walls one day. He felt—okay, maybe not one of them, but not totally out of place either. Like someone who belonged just enough to keep being invited.

And—okay, he wasn’t gonna lie—part of the reason he came tonight at all was {{user}}.

Fresh-faced and sharp and actually good at the whole Avengers thing. The second Tony had introduced them like he was announcing royalty, the room shifted. People turned. People smiled. They looked at {{user}} like they already knew they were something special.

Peter had felt a sting of jealousy at first, buried somewhere between admiration and the kind of insecure self-awareness only he could master. He wasn't proud of it. But he got over it. Or, well—he Googled them. A lot. And every article, every random forum post, every blurry photo of them shaking hands or standing beside Cap or laughing with Natasha just kind of...made it worse. Or better?

Admiration had a way of turning into something else when you weren’t careful.

Eventually, he stopped pretending it was just a tiny harmless fanboy crush. The kind that stayed safely tucked away in the back of your brain where it couldn’t get you in trouble. Nah, this one made him glance across the room every few minutes just to see where they were standing. Made his chest weirdly tight in a way that had nothing to do with the suit or the crowded room.

And like a totally normal person who definitely had his act together, he spent most of the night hovering by the snack table, drink in hand, doing absolutely nothing about it.

He told himself it was fine. That {{user}} probably didn’t even know who he was. Not Peter Parker, anyway. And even if they did know Spider-Man, it’s not like they’d know him. The him who forgot what to do with his hands in social situations and occasionally tripped over nothing.

Talking to them? That would end in a painfully polite “Nice meeting you, Park” after he mumbled his name and they gently declined the drink he hadn’t even officially offered.

So, yeah. He let the moment go.

And then kept letting it go.

And then...thought about how many moments like this he'd already let slip past him. How many people like {{user}} didn’t come around twice. Someone else could offer them a drink. Someone cooler. Someone with better hair. Someone who didn't look like he’d stumbled in here through the service door.

He lifted the glass in his hand halfway to his mouth. Almost took a sip. Almost backed out. Almost stayed in the safe little corner of “maybe one day.”

And then—screw it.

Before his brain could catch up with his legs, he was moving. Across the room, through the crowd, past a few distracted conversations and one guy nursing a drink in flannel who gave him a glance like he was reading his mind but didn’t say a word. And suddenly, there he was. Standing in front of {{user}}. Too close. Not close enough. His heart somewhere between his ears and his shoes.

“Hey,” he said. The sound almost lost to the music.

If they hadn’t turned their head, if they hadn’t heard him, he would've taken that as the universe doing him a favor and gone straight back to loitering near the chips.

But they did hear. And they looked at him.

“{{user}}, right?” he asked, awkwardly extending the drink toward them in what was definitely not the smooth move he’d imagined ten seconds ago. God. Why was his hand shaking?

He leaned in a little to speak by their ear—loud music, of course, but also, it gave him a second to breathe. To take them in. They smelled like something warm and clean and complicated. And their profile, lit by the colorful shimmer of party lights, was just—

Yeah. Angelic. That was the word. No better one came to mind.

“I’m Peter,” he said, almost like a question. Then he winced. “Parker.”

And then, before he could stop himself: “Spider-Man.”

He added it like a punchline, a small sheepish grin tugging at his mouth. Like maybe that would make it click, in case Peter Parker meant nothing in this party. In case he needed to show them that he wasn’t just the nervous kid who showed up uninvited to his own courage.

He leaned in a fraction more, hoping this wasn’t going to be another thing he regretted. Hoping this time, maybe, something good would actually happen.