Mamihlapinatapai: A look shared by two people, each wishing that the other would initiate something they both desire but which neither wants to begin.
"I can't believe you're actually here," Gwen says, taking a big mouthful of tea and scalding her tongue to distract herself from throwing the whole mug at Peter. "My God, what would your aunt say? And don't the Avengers...well, don't they kind of need you?"
Peter rolls his eyes and bites into a scone, scattering crumbs and smearing clotted cream all over the corners of his mouth; Gwen has to stifle a laugh in the corner of her hand.
"They didn't even ask me to be in the movie," he mutters, pouting, so like a little child that Gwen can't resist leaning over the ironwork table and pinching his cheek. "And I told Aunt Em where I was going, I even told her the flight number and everything before I hitched a ride on it. They didn't even notice me until we were already landing in Heathrow, and let me tell you I feel I got shafted out of at least three complimentary drinks."
Gwen rests her hand on her cheek, sets her elbow firmly on the table, and watches Peter grumble about shoddy flight patterns and how cold it was flying along the clouds, watching the sun dance along the flecks of gold in his eyes.
"What?" Peter asks, after a while, when it becomes apparent that Gwen is no longer listening. "You're looking at me all funny."
He catches her eye, admires the way the London air seems to have drawn the apples in her cheeks just a little rosier, a little riper, a little redder, leans over to twirl a golden curl around his index finger.
"We have to go home," they say at the same time.
"But I still have half the quarter -" Gwen protests
"And no way in hell am I getting on another transatlantic flight," Peter finishes. "Or staying in that poor excuse for a hotel any longer, the bedspreads scratch my skin."
Gwen smiles, an idea - a very not good, absolutely horrid idea - blossoming in her mind.
"I mean, you could stay with me," she says in the same instant that Peter blurts out, "But I mean since you're paying money for a single room and all I could probably, you know."
She smiles, laughing in a way that turns up the corners of her eyes, in a way that Peter absolutely adores.
"I'll just tell the dean that I've suddenly grown a second stomach. Or four," she tells him, standing up and looping her hand through his as they stand up to go home.