They bond over Pop Tarts and hot chocolate.

And, really, it kind of makes sense (but it kind of really doesn't because Thor is a freaking god and Peter's just a smol spider thing).

It works out anyways, as Peter goes into his usual cafe to work on homework (because May's out with a friend and he won't go home just yet) and orders his usual when he finds Thor patiently waiting for a muffin.

Of all things he expected to talk with the god of thunder over, it was not the different flavors of muffins.

(It works out anyways, because he likes muffins, and Thor likes muffins, and seriously, who doesn't like muffins? And so they end up talking somehow and Peter's long since forgotten about his English essay still stuffed in his bag.)

"You know, Thor," Peter said over Starbucks one day, "You've caught on to Midgardian traditions really fast. It's seriously impressive how quickly you've adapted to our culture."

Thor lit up. "Really?" He asked excitedly. "I keep thinking that it's so strange and different, but I'm glad to hear that I'm beginning to do well in your culture."

"For sure," Peter agreed easily, the edges of his lips quirking up as he added, "Since America has so many immigrants anyways, you don't stand out too much. Except for, you know, being super buff and hot and the god of lightning and having been seen many times on the news. But that's, like, a given."

Thor pursed his lips together, eyebrows drawing together as he asked, "Hot as in... body temperature? Or is it another Midgardian slang word?"

"Oh, right!" Peter nodded, and poked Thor's hand. "Yeah, not really for body temperature, but hot just means good looking."

Thor beamed at Peter and quickly pulled out a notebook, scribbling down a few notes. "I see! I'll be sure to remember this for future conversations. Thank you for clarifying, Man of Spiders."

"Ah, about that..." Peter coughed awkwardly, not wanting to make Thor feel bad. "You kind of have to keep that whole superhero thing a secret."

Thor frowned, tilting his head to the side curiously. "How come?" He asked, his forehead wrinkling in confusion. "Do you not do good deeds?"

"Well, yeah, but..." Peter shifted awkwardly, raising a shoulder as he answered, "If people know about who I am, then they could hurt the people close to me, see? Like, on Asgard, you're all strong warriors and stuff. But on Midgard, you know it's not like that. So if someone bad, who can fight, knows who's under the mask, they could hurt the people that are close to the masked man, see?"

"Oh." Thor fell silent for a moment, staring thoughtfully at his hot chocolate. A marshmallow bobbed on top, refusing to melt. "It's good of you," He sighed, "To give up the glory for the sake of your loved ones. I can't imagine how awful that must be."

Peter smiled lightly. "It's not awful. Just... different, I guess. It's not a bad thing, Thor, it's just something that happens to be true."

"That's very optimistic."

"We're heroes, aren't we? We're supposed to be optimistic."

"That's true." Smiling brightly, Thor changed the subject. "So, have you tried the caramel latte? I have been told that Midgardian drink is held in high esteem..."

(He was not going to get back to his homework.)