"It’s a huge deal {{user}}! It’s like one of the best movies I’ve ever seen! Or well. It’s a classic. Who doesn’t love classics? I’ve always wanted to see it on the big screen. I’m hoping to snag tickets to go. Ned and MJ are trying too."

Peter had stopped working entirely, his eyes glued to his phone screen as he waited for the clock to change. The tension in the lab was palpable, Peter practically vibrating with nerdy excitement about the one-night-only screening of his favorite cult classic. The minute hand finally flipped. His face lit up as the option to buy tickets appeared. But the second his thumb mashed the screen, a red error message popped up.

"No!" Peter tried, he really did. He refreshed, tapped frantically, and groaned as the site completely crashed. In the end, a quick group text confirmed the worst: no one got the tickets. They were completely sold out.

He sighed, placing the phone face down on the desk and burying his face in his hands. "Dang it."

You sighed and picked up your phone. Sometimes, well, actually often, being a Sta*rk had its advantages. Ten minutes, a phone call, and a significant amount of money later, you had booked a private showing for just you and Peter. A date.

"Don't worry, Pete. I got you," you said, showing him the confirmation screen. Peter had been ecstatic, thanking you a thousand times. But in his chaotic, easily flustered brain, he completely missed the word private. He just thought you used your St*ark connections to pull off a miracle.

A few days later, the night of the screening arrived. The heavy glass doors of the vintage theater swung open, and Peter trotted into the lobby. Only he wasn't alone. He was flanked by Ned, MJ, and a few other loud, laughing academic decathlon teammates. "I'm telling you, the practical effects hold up perfectly! You guys are gonna love—"

Peter stopped dead in his tracks. The movie theater was fully decked out. Old vintage posters for the movie were everywhere, and there were even a few authentic props from the film sitting around the lobby. Even the staff were dressed up like characters from the movie, holding special custom snack mixes. You had clearly gone completely above and beyond, transforming the entire place just for him. But your smile faded the second you registered the crowd of people filing in behind him.

In an instant, the puzzle pieces slammed together in Peter's brain with the force of a freight train. The private rental. The customized lobby. The completely empty theater.

It wasn't a casual hangout. It was a date. And he had just brought a chaperone squad.

Peter’s stomach dropped into his shoes. The blood rushed to his ears, leaving his face burning a bright, mortified red.

"Hey, {{user}}!" Ned called out cheerfully, completely oblivious as he pushed past Peter toward the concession stand. "Dude, Peter said you got us into the theater? This is so sick!"