It was an idle afternoon, Peter was lounging in his couch while you sat on the carpet, arranging the last papers of your report and securing them with a stapler.

"You've got pen on your arm" he murmurs, shifting to face you more as he leans over the armrest. T-shirt stretching against his slender yet toned frame from the movements. He adjusts his glasses properly to take a better look when you mention it's a mole, not ink. He raised his eyebrows slightly before smiling lazily. "Oh! You have a quite a few of them, don't you? It's kinda cute. Especially the one on your back-" he literally bites his tongue inside his mouth to stop himself from uttering another word. There's no way he's going to admit he saw that mole on your back. Didn't see it, nope. And definitely not the day it was raining heavily, you were drenched and had to change into his shirt in his room. Peter's not a jerk, never. He didn't mean to, he looked away instantly that day. But he accidentally did catch a glimpse before leaving the room and that picture lingered in his head.

"I uh, I meant, my... My back. I have uh... Do. I do" he nods. Very smooth. SMH.