Chapter Text
Despite Steph’s reassurances, Peter is still mortified by the whole Ted-fiasco at Beanies. He’d been bad enough trapped in a car and threatening Steph—but full on fail-flirting with the barista and crashing their date had been a whole other level of nightmare. A part of him wonders if this whole relationship was doomed from the start. Every date they’ve had so far has been interrupted, and Pete isn’t sure he can take much more of it.
Ever since their last failed date he’s been sulking. He slumps down at their usual table in the cafeteria, across from his two friends who don’t even greet him as he sits. Perfectly fitting for the day he's having. He eats his cheese sandwich in silence—it’s basically flavourless and so dry, but it’s what he deserves in his misery. A fitting meal for a loser.
“What’s got you down, Pete?” Ruth asks, sorting her M&Ms into groups by color. Her other hand is conjoined with Richie’s under the table, who doesn’t look up from he scrolls absently on his phone—headphones on and blaring music. Must be one of those days, and yeah, Pete gets it. It’s one of those days for him too.
He sighs, finishing chewing on his gross sandwich before he speaks, “Ted crashed my date with Steph,” he laments, and Ruth sends him a sympathetic look, “I should have seen it coming really. Ted goes to Beanies more than anyone—mostly to leer at the baristas, but still…”
Ruth pats his shoulder. "It'll be okay, Pete,” she says, and for a moment it’s kinda comforting… Until she continues, that is. “At least this way I’ll have a shot with Steph.”
Peter shoots her an unimpressed look and shrugs her hand off. “Not funny, Ruth.” Because it’s not. Steph is the girl of his dreams. It’s a miracle he even has had dates with her to be ruined. But… If they keep going wrong, maybe it really is a sign. A sign that they’re not meant to be—a sign from the universe that Pete is a loser and Steph should go after someone in her league. And, yeah, Pete doesn’t really believe in that stuff. Cosmic forces or destiny or anything like that. He’s a man of science, logic, and facts. Steph, though… What if she takes it as a sign?
Because, yeah, he’s admitted it, he’s in love with this girl. And he’s at least confident this girl likes him back—but if they can never even be alone together then what’s the point at all?
He looks over to Richie again, his eyes remain glued to his phone. It’s only now that Pete realizes he’s dyed his hair again—a pale blue this time. Parts of the dye have stained his scalp, so he must have done it last night, probably. Last time Richie dyed his hair he’d resorted to getting Pete to help since Ruth was busy. That had been a mistake, since he’d ended up with orange instead of a dark red and had resorted to wearing a hat until he could get it out. This looks much better, though. Ruth’s work, no doubt.
“Is he okay?” he asks Ruth, the muffled hum of Richie’s music spilling from his cheap headphones. If Pete didn’t know any better, he’d think that was… Yeah, some anime theme song. He couldn’t name which one—anime is more Richie’s thing, he only watches a few episodes with him every now and again. Naruto, maybe? Attack on Titan? Bleh, he doesn’t know.
“He’s… fine,” Ruth says with a shrug, her expression says otherwise. “His dad made fun of his hair this morning—you know, like he always does.”
Ah. Peter probably could have guessed. Richie’s mom tries her best to support Richie’s interests—his dad, however, doesn’t. The anime, dyed hair, pride pins, and, well, Peter and Ruth. Taking any chance to jab and mock, to try to push Richie to more ‘masculine’ and ‘normal’ interests. Peter doesn’t know for sure, he’d never asked, but he’s pretty sure that’s the reason Richie’s got divorced Freshman year. The lack of support from Mr. Lipschitz. This was probably one of the weeks he stays at his dad’s house—Richie is always quieter those weeks, though they’re getting rarer as they get older.
Pete lightly taps Richie’s foot under the table and his eyes dart up, a flash of fear before he smiles—small and confused. He mimes for Richie to take the headphones off for a moment, and he does, but he doesn't say anything.
“Your hair looks cool,” Peter says, because really it does. No matter what Mr. Lipschitz or Max or any other asshole says. “Better than the orange,” he jokes with a smile, and Richie laughs.
“Pete was just complaining about his bad game,” Ruth says with a grin, tugging on Richie’s hand still conjoined with hers, “but that means Steph will move on to me.”
“I already told you that isn’t funny.”
“I know, but it’s true.”
“Ruth—”
“Hey, guys!” Steph dumps her bag on the table and sits in the chair beside Peter, smiling shyly at him before she turns to the other two. Pete tries his best not to blush. He fails. “Oh, cool hair, Richie.”
“Really?” The compliment from Steph seems to have fully restored Richie’s confidence for the day. His shoulders relax, and his headphones remain around his neck, the fast paced song even louder now. Pete gets it—hearing that your hair looks cool from Stephanie Lauter overrides any rude comments from shitty parents. “Ruth did it,” he says as he runs his fingers through it, “I needed a change.”
She glances at Ruth, “well, if I ever feel like dying my hair, I know who to call,” at this Ruth gets all flustered, stuttering out some semblance of agreement. Steph either doesn’t notice or isn’t fazed by it, turning back to look at Pete. “So, any plans for our next date, nerd?”
“Oh, uh—”
“Peter, are you ready for the German test today?” Grace interrupts, sitting down the opposite side of him. “I brought my note-cards with me in case you weren’t, which you’re probably not.” She pulls a neatly stacked pile of colorful note cards held together by three pink elastic bands, and slides them across the table in front of him.
He picks them up, just to be polite more than anything. “Oh, um, thanks, Grace.” And yeah, he is prepared for the German test. Mrs. Clement scares the shit out of him—and it’s even more confusing, considering she’s French. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”
Pete flicks through them, and it’s clear Grace put a lot of time and effort into these. Each of them is formatted to have a definition, example in a sentence, and grammar rule reminders just in case.
Grace does that smug little head-nod and purses her lips. “You’re welcome!” She pulls a neatly packed lunch box with a sticker of the cross on the front from her bag, and gets ready to eat.
“I’ll take that as a no,” Steph interjects with a grin and nudge to Peter, and she continues before Pete can stutter out a terrible excuse or plan another date on the fly. “Don’t worry— I’m planning our next date. I have to run, got some important stuff to do, but I’ll text you the ‘detes. Bye!” Steph jumps up, bag swinging over her shoulder, and presses a quick kiss to his cheek before rushing off and out the cafeteria doors.
Ruth, Richie and Grace all stare at him for a long moment, frozen. Richie breaks the silence.
“You’re such a lucky bastard, Pete.”
//
“I thought you couldn’t drive.” Peter stares at the car Steph has parked in front of his house—more impressed than anything.
Beside him Steph rolls her eyes, arms crossed over her chest. “I can drive, I just don’t have a car.”
“So…” he trails off, confused. He looks at Steph, then back to the car, back to Steph once more. “What’s that, then?”
“A car.”
“Yeah, Steph, I can see that,” he says, but the sight of her coy grin at her sarcastic comments has his stomach flipping. It’s… pleasant. “I mean where did you get the car?” He steps towards it, and it really is immaculate. Super clean, expensive—he’s sure Ted would pass out at the sight, he was a car nerd back when he was in high school. Then, a thought comes to him. “You didn’t… Steal it, did you?”
Steph is clearly offended by the suggestion. “What? No!” She laughs, though, shaking her head good naturedly. “Who do you think I am, Pete?” Steph is quiet for a long moment before she adds, “okay, so I didn’t technically steal it.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up against his forehead. “Steph…”
“No, listen, it belongs to my dad, so it’s basically mine,” she says and she clicks the button on keys to unlock the doors, pulling open the one on the passenger side. “What’s mine is his, etcetera, etcetera.”
“I really don’t think that's how it works.”
“Whatever. He’s too much of a pussy to press charges or anything—couldn’t mess up the perfect image of his prissy little princess of a daughter. At most he’ll ground me, but I’ll sneak out anyway.”
“You’re a way cooler person than me, Steph.”
“Oh, please, tell me more about how cool and awesome I am.” She poses dramatically with the back of her hand against her forehead, and then rolls her eyes and gestures toward the passenger side again. “Just kidding, now get in, I’m about to take you on the best Goddamn date of your life, Spankoffski.”
Peter blushes at her holding the door open for him and slides in. She circles the car and gets in too, grinning at him as she starts the ignition.
“You ready?” she asks, a teasing lilt to her voice, almost vibrating with excitement.
He shrugs, looking around the inside of the swanky car. Leather seats, sleek and modern. It smells fresh—and little like cherries. But, well, Peter knows Steph’s shampoo smells like cherries—so it’s probably her .
“If you’re going to be so chivalrous the whole time, then yeah,” he replies, the grin on her face contagious, his own cheeks hurting.
Steph winks. “I’ll be your knight in shining armour.”
Peter just about melts in his seat.
//
The date is at Steph’s house—and Peter still isn’t used to how huge it all is. The gates and the driveway, sprawling garden and doors twice the size of him. Steph seems a bit embarrassed by it all as she leads him up the stairs and to her bedroom.
“I know it’s a lot,” she says, nervous in a way Pete hasn’t seen before. She rubs her hands together and picks at her cuticles. “Especially just for me and my dad, but he loves the lavish life. Me, not so much.”
Peter shrugs, mostly just in awe. “I think it’s kinda cool,” he says, scanning each frame they walk past. Most of them are expensive art work, very few photos of Steph or her family. None, actually, that Pete’s seen so far. “This place is huge compared to my house.”
“Yeah, but I bet your house is cosy—feels like a home, you know.”
In a way Steph isn’t wrong. His parents' house wasn’t like that. Peter always crept around that house, worried to make too much noise or set off his dad. Now that lives with Ted in a small two-bedroom house downtown, though, it is nice. He doesn’t worry about being a little messy, or being a little too loud, or even inviting Ruth and Richie over.
For a while they would go to Ruth’s house ‘cause her parents were the coolest out of the three of them. Still, Mrs. Fleming tended to try and get involved too much and Mr. Fleming always smelled strongly of disinfectant, so it wasn’t exactly ideal. They switched to Pete’s house when he moved in with Ted—and sometimes he even invited Ted to their monthly movie nights.
…maybe he should invite Steph to the next one.
“You could find out for yourself,” he says before realizing what he’s even really saying. But, well, it’s not like he can stop now, can he? “I mean, um, Richie, Ruth and I do monthly movie nights at my house. Maybe you could come along.” For a moment he worries it’s too forward, and quickly adds, “and Grace too, I guess. She’s kind of our friend now.”
Steph glances at him over her shoulder with a smile. “Consider me there,” she says, and they reach her room. She pauses, takes in a deep breath as if bracing herself. “Um, before we go in, I just want to say…” She trails off and scrunches up her face, Pete almost swoons at the sight. “I don’t know—I hope you like it.”
Peter isn’t too surprised by Steph’s room. It’s pretty typical, walls covered in posters and polaroid photos, clothes hanging out of drawers that she’d haphazardly shoved away in preparation for Pete coming over, rumpled bed sheets in a light purple. What does surprise him is what she’s organized in the centre of a room.
A black and white chequer blanket lays across the floor, a spread of food on top of it, just like a…
“Woah…” he says, stepping forward, glancing around momentarily but his eyes coming back to the obvious. “Is this a picnic?”
Steph nods, still nervous if the fidgeting of her hands behind her back is anything to go by. She follows after him into the room, a meek smile on her face—hopeful, adorable. “I was trying to think of a unique date idea—and at first I was gonna take you to the park, but then I thought it was too risky with how often it rains and I didn’t wanna ruin it so—”
“Steph,” Pete interrupts with a grin, “this is great. You…” He lets out a sigh, his eyes falling back to the masterpiece laid out in front of him. “You really went out of the park, huh? You know… Like the pun—”
“You’re such a fucking dork, Spankoffski.” She grabs him by the wrist and drags him towards the blanket, and they both sit down. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted so I just… kinda bought everything I could see.”
Some part of him finds a surge of confidence—maybe it's because Steph is so worried about the date going well—and reaches out for the first thing he sees. It’s a carton of grates. He opens them up and eats one, holding it out to her. “Let’s eat, then.”
Steph smiles and takes one.
//
“And then Brenda had to help Stacy out the tree whilst Kyle pretended to chase off the bee,” Steph finishes her story, giggling to herself, and Pete laughs too. He isn’t the biggest fan of who Steph hangs out with, but even he can tell they’re not all the same as Max.
“You’re friends are way crazier than mine, Steph,” he says with a laugh, finishing the last of the many—probably too many—chocolate bars Steph had bought for their impromptu picnic. “Richie and Ruth just argue over Star Wars and Attack on Titan.”
Steph’s sighs with a smile, leaning down to lie on her back, head beside Peter’s leg. “I love those dorks.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course,” she nods and stretches her arms above her head. “I like your friends—and I like you. Hanging out with you, I mean.”
“I like you too, Steph.” Because he does. He really does. She’s funny, and sweet, and… And she’s everything. “And I like hanging out with you.”
She grins up at him, toothy and wide, and she sits up slightly on her elbows. Staring him down, Pete can’t help but notice how her eyes flicker down his face. To him… Is she looking at his lips? Holy shit. Are they gonna…?
“Steph…”
The door swings open and Peter jumps nearly a full five feet off the floor at the bang. In marches in a pissed Mayor Solomon Lauter, his eyes then focus on Steph—paying Peter little mind.
“Stephanie, Miss Tessburger has been trying to get in contact with you all day,” he grits out, hand clenched tight around the handle of the bedroom door. “You stole my car?”
“I didn’t steal anything,” she says with an eye roll, hurrying to her feet. “I borrowed it.”
“I told you if you pulled any more stunts like this I would—” He cuts himself off and his eyes widen, brows furrowed as his gaze drifts from Steph to Pete. “Who is this?”
Is this where Peter is going to get the shovel talk? Fuck, he really doesn’t want to be threatned by the mayor.
“My friend Pete.”
“Friend?”
“Yes, dad,” Steph pushes, “my friend.”
Solomon huffs. “Fine. Then I think it’s time for your friend to leave. Now.”
Peter hurries to his feet, doing his best to clean up the slight mess atop the blanket, when Steph places a hand over his. He lifts his head, making eye contact with her for a moment before she turns her head back to face her father.
“I drove him here.”
They stare each other down—and Solomon says, “I’ll get Tessburger to drive him. You are going to wait for me in my office.”
For a moment Pete thinks Steph might refuse, and insist that she drive Pete home. Or maybe that’s what he hopes she’ll do. But she doesn’t.
“Sorry, Pete,” she says softly as they walk down the hall, Mayor Lauter up ahead of them. “I didn’t think—”
“It’s okay, Steph.” Because this isn’t her fault. Peter feels more bad for Steph than anything else. Besides, at least the interruption wasn’t one of his friends—or his brother—this time. “See you at school?”
“Yeah…”
The limo is fancier than any car Peter has ever been in, and the woman driving it isn’t all that talkative. They pull away from the Lauter house, and Peter’s phone buzzes.
Steph💜: our next date will go well
Steph💜: i promise
God. Peter really hopes so.
Peter: We might have to go remote to avoid everyone! 🙄😔 Maybe something out in nature? 🌲🏞️ Or somewhere more secluded… 🤔🧐🤨
Steph💜: sounds like a good idea to me
Steph💜: see you around nerd ❤️
A heart.
Steph sent a fucking heart.
Oh.
Oh wow.