#this isn't the plot to a light in the piazza nor is it 100% the plot to the song but the vibes are there

[retvenkos]

statues and stories | p.k.

To All The Boys - Peter Kavinsky x Reader, fluff requested

word count: 813

song: statues and stories - adam guettel | 🔦

A/N: Do I know how much a trip to Italy costs? Roughly. Could your average group of teens manage it? Most definitely not. Is that stopping me? No.

Summary: A senior trip takes you and Peter to Florence, where the museums are more beautiful than anything.

Florence, Italy - also known as "the Athens of the Middle Ages" - shimmered like a diamond in the midday sun. You walked down the beautiful streets with a spring in your step, twisting your head this way and that, trying to drink in all the sights of the city. You breathed in deeply through your nose, something light and giddy bubbling in your chest. This world was unlike anything else, and you were intent on experiencing it all while you could.

For your senior trip, you, Peter, LJ, John Ambrose, and Chris had planned for a week in Florence, Italy. Just how you all had managed to save was still beyond you (although you had the suspicious feeling that John Ambrose was to thank), but you had been saving for years, and finally, it had happened. You were supposed to stick together in a group, but as it inevitably happened, you all wanted to go your separate ways. Now it was just you, Peter, and a city of possibility.

When the museum was in sight, groups of tourists rushing in, shoulder to shoulder, you paused, just marveling at the building and the excitement it held. Peter, who had come on this summer trip with you, grabbed your hand and squeezed it tightly, not saying a word but letting his joy overflow into you.

"Ready?" Peter asked. You nodded, grinning wide; it was more lovely than the sun. "Make sure to get a picture of me kissing one of the statues."

"Peter! You'll get us kicked out!"

"Are you going to deny me of this moment, (Y/n)?"

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, but were smiling, nonetheless. "I'll make sure to get your good side."

"Both of my sides are good."

"Well, I prefer this one." You kissed him featherlight on his left cheek, and Peter mumbled some kind of wisecrack response before turning and kissing you properly. He pulled you close until you were breathless, and when he pulled away, you chuckled. "If you kiss the statues like that, I might just get jealous."

"I'll try not to charm Aphrodite too much."

You stuck your tongue out at Peter's teasing words and pulling him forward through the buzzing crowd into the museum. The sight took your breath away, and you wandered through the building in awe of all the magnificent art. How could one building hold so many precious, heavenly creations? 

You tugged Peter to and fro - never letting go of his hand - marveling at statues and paintings, portraits and sculptures, icons of kings and sketches of angels. Occasionally, you'd look over at Peter and find him already staring at you, as though amid such remarkable beauty, you were the true work of art, hidden beside him. You'd nudge him with your shoulder, and he'd say something cheesy, but the look in his eye would tell you he meant it with the conviction of one blessed.

By the end of the visit, you had sneaked photos in rooms you weren't supposed to, you had told Peter the stories behind a few works of art, and had listened to him come up with ridiculous histories for sculptures (all of them involving forbidden affairs or deep love for a particular kind of cheese). You had attempted to get that picture of Peter kissing a rather popular bust, but that hadn't gone as planned, and all you ended up with was a blurry photo of Peter leaning forward and the security guard crossing his arms, glaring. Peter had claimed to have not known better, but the both of you were laughing too hard to sell the story.

"I'm kinda glad I didn't end up kissing that statue," Peter said as the two of you walked down the Florentine streets, hand in hand, the bright sun on your back, and all the world before you, "can you imagine how many people have touched that?"

"Enough to give you at least twelve different diseases."

"And you didn't stop me?"

"Whatever happened to, 'Are you going to deny me of this moment, (Y/n)'?"

Peter laughed and tugged you over to an empty bench. "You're supposed to be my impulse control."

"Seeing as we were only warned, I'd say I'm doing a pretty good job."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You kissed him, cupping his cheek, and you felt the way he grinned against you. "We need to go on vacation more often."

Peter hummed in agreement. "We do." You leaned against his shoulder, and Peter kissed the top of your head. "Maybe not Italy, though."

You chuckled. "You mean you don't love paying through the teeth for a couple of days in the sun?"

"California would be a lot less expensive if that's all you wanted."

"Yeah, but I want Florence."

Peter smiled at you. He had the good sense not to argue. "Then I guess we'll make do."

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