"Peter! Come downstairs, there's someone I want you to meet!" His grandpa called up the stairs.
"Be right down, Gramps!" He shouted, pulling on his sneakers. He heard his grandpa talking to someone, the voice sounded female, and he chuckled. His grandpa had been talking about a new friend he'd made down at the nursing home. Seemed he'd finally convinced her to come visit. Not that Peter cared, it'd be nice for the old man to have a lady friend. Maybe it'd distract him from making subtle comments about Peter's love life. At least, that's what he was hoping for as he descended the stairs.
"Oh, Mr. Quill, that's not necessary, really."
Mr. Quill? His brows furrowed. Gramps and his lady friend weren't on a first name basis? That seemed a bit odd to him, but who was he to judge? To each his own, right? Shaking off the thought, Peter reached the bottom landing and froze.
"Peter, I'd like you to meet, Y/N."
But he didn't hear a word. In his ears his grandpa's words had all the clarity of those grownups in the Charlie Brown specials. His entire world blurred around one fixed point in that moment. You. Peter swore he heard music. Almost like the sound of a bell or something, but music all the same. His feet carried him down the last step and brought him to a stop in front of you.
"Peter." His grandpa's voice broke through his trance. Peter swiveled to look at him.
"Yeah, gramps?"
"This is, Y/N." He looked at his grandson pointedly and inclined his head subtly in your direction. Peter's eyes narrowed for a minute as he realized what this was. His grandpa wasn't subtly hinting anymore. No, he was just bringing the hints home with him. Peters' attention drifted in your direction. For some reason, this time it didn't bother him. It didn't bother him at all.
"Hey, I'm Peter." He shifted his feet and turned to look at you, holding out a hand. Struggling to meet his eyes, you held out your own hand and shook his.
"Hi." You offered, shyly, finally meeting his eyes again, and immediately your surroundings seemed to melt again. Your hands remained like that for a beat too long before his grandpa cleared his throat.
"Why don't you kids go see a movie or take a walk?" He chuckled. "You don't need to spend the afternoon hanging around an old goat like me." You instantly turned to look at him and folded your hands behind your back.
"You are not an old goat, Mr. Quill!" You admonished gently.
"Yeah, gramps, you're the coolest old goat I know!" Peter folded his arms and smiled at his grandpa. The older man waived the both of you off and all but shoved you out the door, stuffing a wad of bills into Peter's back pocket. After the door slammed shut and audibly locked, he turned to look down at you. "Did he just kick us out?"
"I think he literally just kicked us out." You chuckled, looking up at him, the tension of the moment broken. Peter's eyes danced brightly, and he shoved a hand in his pocket, turning to look out at the street with narrowed eyes.
"Coffee?" He looked back at you thoughtfully. You shrugged and folded your arms. "Or ice-cream." He perked up.
"Oh, definitely ice cream." You gave him a conspiratorial smile. His eyes flashed and he hummed.
"I like you."