50s inspired greaser AU (basically think of grease reimagined meets Spiderman and something else.) Enjoy!

I smile as I tie my apron strings behind me and mentally prepare for another long shift at Rosie's. The only comfort is that Peter's working the same shift—just like always. It's made this summer not feel so miserable.

I'd be lying if I said I hadn't developed a terrible crush on him. I mean, the crush itself isn't a bad thing. He's the first decent guy I've ever met and felt this way towards.

Trouble is, we've from two worlds that exist in the same small town. I'm fairly certain that the guys would never let me hear the end of it if they knew, and I have a feeling they wouldn't give him the warmest of welcomes.

"Hey, Pete." The smile drops from my face as I see a large black bruise over his right eyes. I frown furrow as my fingers trace over the tender spot. "What's with the shiner? Some varsity jerk wanna make himself feel big again?"

He laughs in the telltale way that screams he's nervous, but there's still a smile tugging at his lips. "Something like that."

"Give me his name, and I'll do him in for you." I joke as my hand drops from his face. "Or at least teach ya how to rattle em up."

"He's not worth it. Trust me." Peter replies. "So, Rosie said this is you last week here?"

"Yeah, the boys are gettin back on Saturday, which means I go back to fixing up whatever they pulled from the junkyard to call a bike." I roll my eyes at them. "Honestly, I'd rather stay here, but the old man needs me to help out at the shop when it becomes Antsville."

"So, I guess this is it?" Peter asks as he leans against the counter. "Do we just go back to strangers?"

"Not if you don't want to?" I mumble feeling more exposed and vulnerable than I can ever recall. "That is, I don't want us to be strangers, but if you disagree that's totally fine. I just—"

Peter's hand overlaps mine on the cold, blue counter to stop me. "I don't want to be a stranger to you." My heart suddenly starts pounding under his kind gaze as he continues. "In fact, I'd like to—that is I wanted to ask if you—would you like to go out sometime? As a date?"

A smile breaks across my lips as a the blood rises to my cheeks. "Honestly?" I question and watch as he starts to panic. "I've been waiting for you to ask me all summer."

"Honey," Rosie calls as she appears from seemingly thin air, "let me tell you, we all have."

"Gee. Thanks, Rosie." Peter mumbles and scratches the back of his neck. "So—um—how does tomorrow sound."

"How about, I watch the place while you two take a break." Rosie interjects and shoots a wink at me. "This place is as dead as my first husband. I can manage on my own for a bit. You two just relax; you've done enough work this whole summer."

Unfortunately, you can never argue with Rosie—not if you value your sanity, at least. So, Peter and I begrudgingly take a seat in the corner booth we usually hide in after our shifts. It feels strange to be. Here with Rosie taking care of things and watching us out of the corner of her eye. As if there wasn't enough pressure already.

We both sit across from each other, neither of us knowing what to say to each other that will start the conversation. ""So, um, what—I mean, why did you decide to come work at the diner? It's just I usually work here every summer and break, but this is the first time I've seen you around here."

"Oh, I only moved here a year ago. Normally, I work at my dad's garage, but since most people went on vacation, I asked Rosie if I could work here since I'm trying to save up." I reply with a soft smile, "What about you?"

"I've been working here for years. Rosie's friends with my Aunt May, and things have been tight, so I work to help out where I can."

"I get it. I'm gonna be lucky if I can afford college applications at this rate, much less actually going." I sigh and shrug, "Still, if fixing heaps of trash or dealing with crazy customers helps, it's what I gotta do."

"Believe me when I say, you probably haven't seen the weirdest of the people that come through here." Peter tells me with that lopsided grin. "One time, there was a guy who came in and ordered a bowl of baked flour."

"Please, tell me that a joke." I ask with wide eyes as I bite back laughter. "Why on earth would someone want that—in any situation?" Peter just shrugs and shakes his head. "Still, I had this guy come in last week, he asked for a cup of ranch. Of course, he had ordered a burger, so I tried to think nothing of it, but then I watched him drink every bit of it."

"Some people are just bonkers."

"Trust me, you haven't seen crazy until you've been to the city. Just ride the subway, and it will pretty hard for anything to surprise you after that."

"Wait, you lived in the city? How come I never knew that?"

"For one, you never asked." I reply with a teasing grin, "For another, I don't really talk about it much. I moved here a year ago, but most people aside from my friends—and you, of course—have really bothered to talk to me for more than five minutes. Most people from uptown won't even give me the time of day."

"Yeah, it's one thing I've always hated about this town. People act like greasers are all bad people bent on causing problems. I always wish I could change it."

"Sometimes they need someone to blame when their kids aren't so perfect underneath the varsity jackets." I offer Peter a small smile as I reach for his hand across the table. "Still, you being yourself makes a difference, and I've been told before, it's the small things that make the biggest impact."

Peter lets out a small 'huh' noise as his hand holds mine. "My Uncle Ben used to say that a lot. He was always reminding me that one person can change everything."

"Wait," I pause and look at him in confusion, "you're Ben's nephew?"

"Yeah, you knew him?"

"Very well, actually. It's a long story, but he—your uncle saved my life." I offer him a soft smile and squeeze his hand. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thanks. It gets easier each day."

"Time helps, trust me on that."

Peter nods for a long minute before he speaks up again, "If it isn't too imposing, can I ask how my uncle helped you?"

"Yeah, it's fine." I bite my lip and think about how to phrase it. "When I came here, I—I wasn't in the best place. I used to go to the rec center to blow off steam, and one day I ran into Ben. He was always so kind and asked me about myself. Um—anyway, he started asking me about school and what I wanted to do with my future."

"Which is?"

"Engineering. My dream job would be working for Stark Industries. I've always loved making things, and I'd like to be able to make the world a better place. So, knowing how awful the school is downtown, Ben helped me find some extra programs that would help me get extra credit and look good on college applications. He even introduced me to the September Foundation, which is the Stark scholarship program, and was helping me work on an application for the program." I pause and try to hide the tears building, "Ben was the first person who ever really believed in me. He was the only one who made me believe I could be someone, that I could do something with my life, and I don't think I'd be here if he hadn't."

"That sounds like my Uncle Ben." Peter whispers with a soft smile as his thumb traces over my knuckles. "He was always seeing the best in everyone."

"Yeah, I don't know if you knew this, but he was petitioning the town council to integrate greasers into the uptown school." I smile at Peter as he shakes his head. "I mean, the one I go too is utterly useless. I mean, what's the point of learning or putting in effort when even the teachers don't bother. Half the time I don't even get my papers back."

"Really? I never realized it was so bad."

"Most people don't, but we get by." I shrug and smile at him. "Anyway, what's it like at your school?"

"The typical high school experience. Guys in varsity jackets thinking they rule the world and picking on anyone who doesn't."

"Popular girls looking down their noses at you?" I ask, and he nods. "Yeah, I know the feeling."

"Yeah, and it doesn't help that I'm more nerdy than athletic."

"I think it helps. I mean, I've never really like the 'varsity athlete' type." I reply and feel the blood rushing to my face as Peter gives me a look that makes me feel like jello. "What I mean is—I like people who are more down to earth and smart, than the kind with big muscles and egos so big there's no room left for anything else in their brain."

"I told you that you were her type." Rosie calls from behind the counter, "If you had just listened to me, this would have happened months ago."

"Thanks, Rosie." We both call before realizing the other said it in tandem and laugh.

Of course, in true Rosie fashion, she appears at the end of the table—seemingly out of nowhere. "It's about time to close up. So I made both of you your usuals, which weirdly enough are the exact same."

Peter and I look at each other in wide bewilderment. Mostly because I never expected be have the same order, and I doubt he expected me to have a usual order of two cheeseburgers and fries, which is usually shared with my Dad since he often forgets to eat.

Rosie barely gives a moment to thank her before she's rushing us out of the diner. "I'm serious, you two head home. I can take care of this place for tonight."

"Fine, but I'm coming in early tomorrow." I reply as I hang up my apron and slip on my worn leather jacket. "Thank you, Rosie."

Rosie just smiles and waits for Peter heads back to grab his backpack before she leans close to me, "You can thank me by letting that boy walk you home. I know you're a capable young woman but just humor me this once."

"What on earth do you have up your sleeve, Rosie?" She just smiles and shakes her head as she walks away—I'm assuming to talk to Peter. It's hard to guess though. Rosie has always been a woman of a million mysteries, and I doubt I'll ever understand her no matter what.

I shove my hands into my pockets as I let down my hair from it's tight ponytail, which is a huge relief to my scalp. Right then, Peter rounds the corner with his school jacket on and backpack slung over his shoulder. "Are—are you ready to go? I can walk you home, if you want."

"Yeah, that'd be nice." I reply with a smile. After all, I'm curious to see what Rosie has in mind. "Don't worry, it's not too far and most people are still on their vacations. No one should bother us."

"I'm not too worried about it." Peter replies as he fidgets a little bit as we leave the diner, "Most people don't really notice me in the first place."

"I do." I tell him as we leave the neon glow of the diner's sign behind us. "Thank you, by the way. I appreciate you walking me home."

"Oh, it's no problem." As we walk, our hands keep brushing, and all I can think about is how much I want to hold it. Lucky for me, Peter seems to have the same thought because the next time our hands touch, his wraps around mine.

I try to hide my nervous blush as we stop in front of the dingy little house next to my Dad's shop. "Well, this is me." Peter nods, and on a moment of impulse, I take a step closer to him.

He seems to take the hint as he closes the last bit of distance. "Can I—?" His voice trails off, but I know exactly what he's asking. As much as I want to say 'yes,' something holds me back.

"Can I ask you something first?" Peter nods as his brows furrow in the cutest way that shows his concern. "Does it—does it scare you? I mean, we come from two different sides of town—from two different worlds, and I'm pretty sure the townies will treat you horribly if you're seen with a greaser like me. What if—?"

I lose track of how to put the words together, but Peter seems to understand nevertheless. "No, not really." He replies and gently lifts my chin. "It doesn't scare me because I don't care about what people say. I know you—I like you, and for me, that's enough."

"Really? You don't care about all the grief we'll get from everyone?"

"Not if you don't." He whispers and stares at me intently. "Do you?"

"I'm not sure, but I'm willing to find out if you are."

"I am." His eyes flicker between my eyes and my lips. "So can I—?"

I don't bother to respond verbally as I close the last bit of space between us. It's not how I imagined my first kiss to be like, but somehow, it's better than I could have ever dreamed up.

When we finally pull away from each other, neither of us can hide the wide smiles. "Wow." Peter whispers, which makes me laugh. "Um—so is there any way I can take you out on a another date?"

"I think you've gotta pretty good shot." I tease, "Just let me know where and when, and I'll be there."

"Awesome! I mean, cool." He grins, trying to hide how giddy he is, but not doing well. "I should be going before May starts getting worried."

"Night, Parker." I grin and press a kiss to his cheek as I head inside, and I can't stop thinking that this summer turned out so better than I thought it would. All because of one date and Peter Parker.