#glove on the back of his neck.... i get it petey i do

[reverieblondie]

maybe for a prompt you could do a already dating smut with TASM!Peter Parker with a lot of praise coming from Peter? Or if you don’t wanna write smut just do already dating fluff <33 also I love love LOVE your Neighbors series so far it’s so good seriously)

Sorry this took so long to get out! I hope it has enough praise! Smut head 18+!

“P-Peter, are y-you sure this is safe?” 

“Of course it is…now stay still and hold on.” 

You grip the thin railing in front of you tightly, trying not to pay any mind to the rushing wind blowing past your ears. Closing your eyes, you focus as his gloved hands slide up your trembling thighs, bunching your skirt over your ass and exposing your white panties. Peter bites off his gloves, and you hear them get thrown to the ground by your feet, then his thumb swips over your clothed folds, feeling the damp spot. 

A low whistle leaves his lips as he pushes the cloth more, teasing your wet entrance and sliding up to rub slow circles over your clit. “You’re soaked…and here I thought this would be too much…It looks like you like it…” 

Peter moves your panties to the side and starts to rub the leaking head of his cock over your clit, Its heat is a stark contrast to the cold, thin metal you're pressed against. You can’t help but shudder. 

"Pete,” you whine as he moves his head along your slit, and you arch your back at the contact, begging for more.

“What baby…talk to me. what do you want?” His other hand comes to rub small circles on your clit while he continues to tease you. You're growing frustrated with his teasing, and you let go of the railing to turn and complain, but when you feel yourself swaying too much, you grab a hold of the building's railing again. Peter laughs as you tighten your grip. “Don’t worry, beautiful; you're in safe hands.” 

You keep your eyes shut tightly. “How did I let you talk me into this?” 

Suddenly you feel yourself getting turned around and lifted; you instantly curl yourself around him, holding on for dear life; you feel Peter move around for a moment before you then feel your back being pressed to something; the sound of the rushing wind is louder now. Peter speaks into your ear again. “You're the one who begged your boyfriend for some excitement; I’m only trying to please you.” 

Finally opening your eyes, you look at Peter's smiling face. Then you make the mistake of looking around, and you feel your breath escape you. Peter has you pinned to the building side; it’s an instant drop to your death if his body's sticking ability were to suddenly go out. You shut your eyes and hug him tighter. "Peter, I hate you!” You squeal

“Well, we’re about to change that.” With Peter's sweetly mocking words, you feel his cock rubbing along your slick folds as he rocks his hips into you, as his other hand snakes down to rub your swollen clit as he presses sloppy kisses along your neck. All the sensations are making you arch into him wanting more as you grind against him moaning his name. 

“Tell me what you want, baby; let me hear you.” 

“I want you…Please, Petey..”

Then, in one swift motion, Peter sinks his length into you, making your eyes shoot open from the stretch of the intrusion. Peter bites his lips as he watches the pleasure take you over, and he starts to rock into you. 

“You still hate me?” 

Before you can answer, he pulls out to his tip, then rolls his hips into you, pushing in so deeply that your toes curl and the warmth in your stomach starts to burn like a fire. You look into his eyes with a half-lidded gaze, forgetting you are being fucked against the side of a building. You shake your head quickly.  

“No, I love you.”

[dollfxcx]

only if you're comfortable with it but... hate sex??? 🙏 like, reader talking back and Pennywise just having his way?? dirty talk, maybe?

I LOVED THIS ONE SO MUCH. HATE SEX IS JUST. SUPERIOR.

TW: nsfw, dubcon elements (not really, reader wants it REAL bad but doesn't wanna show it, yet I still wanna point it out)

Word count: (2.2k+)

Peter is extraordinarily ordinary. Just like the way he smiles at you, toothy and cheeky, the way his blond curls move in the wind, the way he strokes your cheek every time he separates from you at the door of your house. It's been a month since the evening at Derry's fair, where you two met.

"You dropped this." he said, handing you the wallet that had slipped out of your pocket without you realizing it.

"I couldn't help but notice how pretty you are." he'd also said, earning from you firstly a glare and then, eventually, a chuckle. Peter shouts a goodbye to you one last time after seeing you wave at him from your bedroom window, as you do every time, and you grin. Everything's normal. Normality is beautiful. Normality is.... normal. Dull, a bit boring. But that's normal, isn't it? You sigh, now suddenly and utterly hopeless, and collapse onto the bed, squinting at the sunset light filtering through the floral curtains. When you open your eyes again, the sun is completely gone, the room is dark, it's cold and raining. It takes a while to adjust to the darkness, but when you do the room feels smaller than usual, gloomy and narrow, almost claustrophobic. And hot. You sit up, feeling slightly dizzy, and reach for the glass of water on the bedside table. It's strangely sweet. You don't like it.

"Had fun tonight?" asks a voice, which seems to boom from every corner of the room, your heart starts pounding, so fast you're afraid it might leap out of your chest.

"Oh, I bet you liked it when he touched you with his filthy, filthy hands, didn't ya?" the voice giggles and you know that sound very well, it makes you tremble like a leaf and stumble back towards the wall behind you. Just when you're about to consider escaping, Pennywise pops out of the gloom, chin tucked into his shoulders and a grin on his face.

"But when it comes to poor ol' Pennywise, you're sooo hard to please, so picky." he's lying for the sole purpose of pissing you off and you know it, yet no matter how hard you try, you feel the anger begin to boil in your veins. In the middle of your stream of consciousness, Pennywise leaps onto the bed, arms spread wide in a mock embrace, and pins you down, his maniacally laughing mouth perilously close to your face. You try to hit him with your knee, but he doesn't budge one bit, he just gives you a bored glare and wags his finger in front of your eyes.

"Now, now, don't be such a naughty girl, give Penny a big smile." one of his eyes wanders around as his left hand tightens around your throat, a bead of drool falling from his lips and trickling down your chest. You frown, blabbing as you try to shove him away and shaking your head aggressively.

"No. No! Get off of me. NO. You won't get away with me again. I won't let you, I--" Pennywise shuts you up with a magnanimous growl, his gloved thumb lightly rubbing your lip.

"Mhh, such harsh words for these soft lips. Don't you think it would be better to put them to a more constructive use?" he purrs softly, his hand leaving your neck to slide slowly towards one of your breasts, squeezing it almost with care through the fabric of your shirt. You choke on a deep sigh, your eyes closing almost immediately at the touch you've missed so much. Pennywise chuckles softly as he spreads your legs wide to position himself between them.

"Oh, I was sure you missed me, pet. Little Petey could never make you feel the way I make you feel, could he, doll?" Pennywise lets the claws of his right hand shred your shirt with one smooth gesture, your nipples stiffen under his hungry gaze. He hums condescendingly, lowering his head slightly to wrap his lips around one of them.

"No, stop..." you try to push him away, without too much strength nor conviction, a soft moan escapes your lips when you feel him start to suck on it sloppily.

"Oh? What was that pretty sound? Lemme hear it again, it was so cute." You feel him smile against your skin as one of his hands slides quickly between your legs, starting to rub your crotch with the pad of his thumb through the thick fabric of your jeans, which drives you even crazier, because it's too much but not enough at the same time.

"You like it, don'tcha?" he rhetorically asks, slowly moving his lips from your nipple down your belly, leaving a trail of slobbering kisses on your skin.

"No." you snap, biting your lower lip to keep yourself from making sounds he might… misinterpret. His head snaps up, making you squirm uncomfortably at the loss of contact, his golden eyes narrow playfully.

"Ah, no? Aw, that's a real shame…I thought I was getting the hang of it…" he murmurs, falsely disappointed, and although you can clearly see how his hands are still on your thighs, soft gloves on your flesh, you feel your arms being pulled by two things you can't quite distinguish, only thing you know is that they are warm and vaguely slimy.

“Stop…” you mutter again, your neck falling back as your arms are brought over your head, outstretched as if you were being crucified to the bed. Pennywise gives you a beaming smile, raising both hands and shaking them slightly in fake innocence.

"I'm not even touching you. You asked me not to, right? I did what you wanted, Y/n, didn't I?" he purrs, persuasive, exasperating, he towers over you by holding himself up on his arms, without letting one part of his body touch yours. He then sinks his head against your neck, inhaling hard, you feel him vibrate above you, his torso stiffens as if he's trying to keep from bending you over and fucking you into oblivion.

"You sick fucker." you mutter, pushing your hips down to find a minimum of friction.

"Aw, you wound me…good girls shouldn't say such words. And you want to be a good girl, don'tcha?" his voice is hoarse, almost distorted, his cherry-colored lips rub against your neck like a butterfly's touch and you know very well that he is doing everything on purpose, that if it were up to him he would already be buried inside you up to the hilt, but he loves to play with you more than he likes physical pleasures. His eyes meet yours as he lifts his head up slightly and your lips crash against his, a sigh escapes your throat as he shoves his tongue forcefully into your mouth. The room is filled with slurping noises, he feeds on your flavor with such dedication you think he's sucking your soul out. Maybe he actually is.

"Good girl. Now open wide." he demands, taking your chin between his fingers and tugging at it slightly. You open your mouth obediently despite your inner conflict, and he hums in appreciation, shoving two fingers inside your mouth and pressing them against your tongue.

"Suck. Suck as if it were my cock." he orders, you feel the grip of those slimy outside things, which are apparently thin semi-transparent tendrils, tighten around your wrists. Your lips close around his pale fingers, your tongue caresses them with such dedication that a few drops of drool that you can't swallow in time drip from the corners of your mouth down your chin.

"Yeah, like that..." he praises you, as his free hand takes off your pants with a quick and almost violent yank, you feel him press his nose against your crotch, which is still hidden behind your underwear, your head tilting back dangerously at the contact.

"You're already so wet, just by sucking on my fingers. You want them, don't you? Deep inside your throbbing cunt? If you ask nicely, perhaps." he almost growls, his nose pressing beautifully against your swollen clit, sending an electric shock throughout your entire body, you can't stop the moan escaping your lips this time. Pennywise slips his fingers out of your mouth, licking them clean of your saliva.

"So good for me, huh? You want to cum on my fingers? D'you want me to tell you how hot and tight you are? Just for me? You have to ask me, doll. Oh I'd hate to do you wrong." The teasing is obvious, but at that moment it doesn't concern you. The only thing you want is to cum and the hatred you feel for him only fuels the desire, paradoxically.

"Shit." you grit your teeth, your hips move obsessively downwars for you to touch or rub against anything, but he remains completely still, a smirk on his face.

"Come on, it's not that hard." the tendrils double in number, the two new ones, thicker and coarser, making their way to your already sensitive nipples, pinching them so lightly that your back arches.

"Fuck me. Stop wasting time and fuck me, asshole."

He grabs the hem of his costume pants, tendrils stopping abruptly as he gives you a smirk, then he frowns slightly in concentration as he strokes and cups his obvious erection, which is trapped by the fabric, to tease himself, head tilted back slightly and lips parted. When he finally takes off his trousers, you can't help but yelp. His cock is thick and cherry red, like the color of his lips, narrower at the tip like a tentacle, and it pulsates with delicious expectation, writhing and wriggling as if it had a mind of its own. He clicks his tongue a few times, his right hand squeezes the base of his cock as he uses the other to spread your thighs further so that he's even closer to you and every inch of his body against yours invades you with tremendous warmth.

"You know you can't lie to me, right? You like it, I can smell it, you're just like a bitch in heat, aren't ya? But don't you worry, Pennywise is here to help, yes he is!" You wish you could talk back, but your voice dies in your throat as the tip of his cock suddenly presses against your folds, crawling inside you with an obscene squelching sound. His hips snap against yours, your body tries desperately to adjust to his length, a string of profanity makes its way to your lips when he's fully into you, up to the hilt. Pennywise growls softly, his back stiff and tense.

"I didn't remember you being so tight." he comments, as he begins to thrust himself at a slow, excruciatingly slow pace, you feel his cock bulge inside you, swelling until it manages to poke and caress every single spot of your dripping cunt.

"Are you planning to be like this the whole time or are you gonna fuck me properly?" you grit your teeth, eyes shut tight to concentrate on not cumming right away. Pennywise chuckles, but doesn't object, his rhythm gets faster, with each thrust his cock slips out of you almost completely just to be forcefully thrust back into you, making you moan every time.

"Oh, look at you, you're dripping wet" he observes, staring back at you without ever slowing down his movements, the pad of his thumb finds your clit and gives it a flick, caressing it more gently after he hears you whine at the action.

"You look like you were made for me, look how perfectly you wrap yourself around my cock. You want to fuck me, don't you? Hurt me like I hurt you, mh? Then do it, take all of me." he orders and the invitation is almost enough to make you cum, yet you try to hold back, wrapping your legs around his hips to make him sink deeper, your hands gripping his shoulders, pulling him closer to you.

"Such a good girl, Y/n, really." he buries his face against your neck, his lips closing around a patch of skin and sucking hard, you feel him tremble against you as he savors your taste. His cock is throbbing just like your cunt is, you know you're both close so you push your hips down to take in more of him, motion that makes him moan for the first time.

"Like that, doll. Keep fucking me, such good girl you are." You want to do as he tells you, but you cum as soon as you feel him sink his sharp teeth into the flesh of your shoulder, the sound of his tongue sucking and lapping at your blood is enough to push you over the edge. Pennywise dunks his teeth deeper as, with one last thrust of his hips, he cums too, you feel his hot sticky release filling you completely, it's so much that when he pulls out of you some of it pours out of your oversensitive cunt and pools on the mattress under your bodies. He smiles from ear to ear, one of his hands gently pressing your slightly swollen belly, squeezing out a little more of his fluids, then leaning over your crotch and licking it all away, as if nothing could go to waste.

"Don't go out with Little Petey anymore." he recommends, caressing your chin with his thumb, which is magically gloved again. You push his hand away and frown, trying to sit up.

"I do whatever the fuck I want." you spit, and Pennywise grins mischievously, his gaze falls between your legs, still smeared with cum and blood, and onto the damp mattress.

"Oh, I know that." and with a wink, he disappears.

[boasamishipper]

fuck it friday time woohoo 🥳

thanks @bornforastorm for the tag! here's an excerpt from chapter 4 of my strickson fic Modern Architecture:

“Perkins’s had me twisting arms the past few weeks trying to get the city council to approve funding for a public pool in our neighborhood, and Westin junior’s the treasurer and the last holdout. Keeps insisting there’s no money in the fund for it.” Drake bared his teeth; under different circumstances, it might have been a smile. “But that’s because he and Pops have been draining it dry.”

That was interesting. “You got proof of that?”

The sheepish look on Drake’s face reminded Pete so much of Perry that Pete felt an involuntary rush of fondness for the younger man. “Nothing but hearsay. Though I figure here’s the best place to look for something a little more concrete.”

“We’ll help,” Hazel said decisively, and she tore off towards the mahogany desk in the back of the room before Pete could even open his mouth. Goddamn it. If Hazel wanted to help Paul Drake, then Pete had no other choice but to stick around and make sure the kid didn’t break her neck sticking it out for him. So much for an easy job. “Pete, help me get these drawers open, will ya?”

“Yeah, yeah, keep your hair on.”

Pete shoved his camera back into his jacket and moved to Hazel’s side, only to be beaten to the punch by Drake, who jimmied at the lock on the first set of drawers, taking his sweet time with it. Pete sucked an exasperated breath through his teeth. “You want me to do it?”

“I got it,” Drake said, not unkindly, and finally got the lock loose. “You don’t need to stick around, you know. Neither of you,” he added, presumably for Hazel’s benefit.

“Anybody who’s trying to take down Westin is a pal of mine,” Hazel said firmly. “So we’re sticking around. Aren’t we, Petey?”

“Christ, you sound like my wife,” Pete muttered. Hazel’s pointed glare reminded him of Ruthie even more. “What she says goes, Drake. We’re sticking around.”

Drake moved to the side so Hazel could rifle through the papers in the drawers. Pete turned on the desk lamp so she could see better, and felt Drake’s gaze burning into the back of his neck like a brand. “How is your wife doing, Strickland?”

Pete was too distracted by the armfuls of folders that Hazel was handing him to answer right away. “Fine.”

“She know what you’ve been up to lately?”

That got Pete’s hackles up. Slowly, he turned around and narrowed his eyes at Drake, who’d set down his tray and had his hands on his hips, looking cool as a breeze. He didn’t know what exactly Drake was implying, but he didn’t like it one bit. “Does yours?”

“I tell Clara everything,” Drake said evenly. His eyes were dark, probing. “What I’m up to, where I’m going. Who I’m with.”

Pete’s heart dropped, and he had a moment of panic wherein he wasn’t really sure what his terror was a result of: the same way he’d felt spending night after night looking out at the North Atlantic for U-Boats and flinching at every wave. Over the ringing in his ears, he heard Hazel say his name, and he turned around again, grateful for something to hold onto. Drake moved forward too; Pete could smell his cologne. He transitioned to breathing through his mouth and tried to keep his voice steady. “What’s up, Gloves?”

(tagging @saltyfilmmajor @lilalbatross and anyone who sees this and wants to do it)

[spooderboyandtincan]

The 12(ish) Days of December

A/N: I intended to write a Hanukkah themed chapter, but unfortunately I suffered some burnout and I couldn’t really start it :(((((( I plan and hope to add on to this in the future, I just wanted to get it out here on time! Happy Holidays everyone!!

Read on Ao3

/ST*RKERS DNI/

I

“Che palle!” May cried as she and Peter stepped out of the elevator. “Tony, what the hell is that?!”

“It’s a giant teddy bear,” Tony called back from the kitchen. “It’s for you, Pete!”

“Me?” Peter gasped, his face lighting up. He charged toward the ten-foot teddy bear and tackled it. The giant brown bear teetered slightly with his weight but didn’t tip over. “He’s so soft!”

Tony came out of the kitchen with a wide grin on his face. He wiped his flour-coated hands on his pants and tried to give Peter a hug without pushing him off the bear,

“He’s so beautiful!” Peter giggled, wrapping his arms around the bear’s neck. “And huge!” 

Tony nodded in a proud, self-satisfied sort of way. Besides being delighted that the boy clearly adored his gift, he now had proof that this was obviously how one should react when presented with a ten-foot-tall stuffed animal. He'd have to take a picture and send it to Pepper.

May tossed her purse on the floor and shook her head at Tony. “As long as you can find a place for it, I’m not complaining,” she chuckled.

“I’ll rent a storage unit somewhere,” Tony supplied, taking a sip of coffee from his Iron Man shaped mug. Tony treasured that mug, which had been gifted to him by Peter several months ago. He never brought it in the lab for fear that Dum-E or U would break it, and he kept it in the cabinet next to his “1# IronDad” mug (also a precious gift from his kid).

He looked back to Peter, who had wrapped his arms around the bear, which was tilting dangerously. “Be careful, kiddo,” he said, biting his lip. But the moment the words got out of his mouth, Peter and the gigantic teddy bear started to topple to the ground.

“Shit-!” he began, darting forward, only to be met by Peter’s giggles.

“Nooo. Leave me. ‘M comfy.” He rolled onto the bear’s big belly and sprawled across it. “This’s perfect,” he hummed, closing his eyes. 

Tony and May shared a slightly exasperated yet fond glance. Tony flopped down next to Peter, tucking a curl behind his ear. “Now that I think about it, spider-baby,” he mused, “I’ve got something else for ya.”

Peter perked up and opened his eyes. “What?” 

Tony gave him a large grin and ran a hand through his curls. “C’mere.” He wrapped an arm around his shoulders and led Peter to his room.

May sighed. “I swear to god, Tony, if you’re giving him an Audi….” she muttered. 

“I’m not!” the man insisted. Peter rolled his eyes and sat down on his bead. 

Tony put a warm palm over his eyes. “Close your eyes, bud.” 

Peter tried to keep his eyes closed as Tony ran to his own room, tearing through what sounded like wrapping paper and knocking boxes over with no absence of cursing. 

Moments later, a small, leather 4x4 inch box was placed on his open palm. He opened his eyes and looked first at the box, then at up Tony, who smiled. May shrugged and gestured to open it. 

Inside the box rested a thin, slender watch with a smooth black strap. The face of the watch was rectangular, and when Peter pushed the button on the side it lit up, displaying the time above what looked like a mini arc reactor. It resembled the StarkWatch he was wearing that very moment, except it looked more high-tech.

“A new StarkWatch, specially customized for you, by yours truly,” Tony said. “Your old one looked pretty busted, even though they’re supposed to be indestructible.” Peter snickered at Tony’s gentle jab. “And it’s got a few minor upgrades. You can set the lock screen, for one. And it should be trackable from anywhere in the universe, and I mean everywhere. And you can call me, or May, or Ned or Rhodey or whoever from the top of Mount Everest or the bottom of the Mariana Trench.”

“Wow,” Peter whispered, tracing the sides of the watch before strapping it onto his wrist. “Thank you, Mister Stark! I love it! It’s so cool!” 

“What happened to ‘Tony?’” he grumbled playfully, giving his spider-baby a kiss on his head. “I’m glad you like it, buddy. It’s basically the same stuff as your old one, just better.” 

Then, to both Peter and May’s surprise, Tony bent down and grabbed a colorful red bag covered in golden glitter. Peter laughed.

“Tony, it’s only the ninth!” May snorted, her eyebrows raised past her hairline.

“That’s because we’ll need these before Christmas,” Tony said wisely. He handed Peter a soft package wrapped in green tissue paper and watched him tear the packaging in half.

“It’s so ugly!” he cried, holding up a garish green sweater. There was a plastic red ball attached to the big reindeer's nose and tiny bells were tied onto the reindeer’s harness. Little snowflakes were patterned all over, and Peter couldn’t help but laugh. “I love it, Tony!” Peter pulled the sweater on and was delighted to find that the fabric was incredibly soft, instead of the unbearably itchy sweaters he had owned in the past. “It’s perfect!”

Tony laughed fondly at his already thrilled kid. “If you think it’s good now, wait till you see this. FRI, lights off,” he ordered.  

Peter felt Tony fumble with something on his shoulder, and suddenly the sweater lit up. The reindeer’s nose lit up bright red, the snowflakes began to glow, and, as cliché as it might have sounded, the bells gave a merry jingle as Peter laughed.

“I love it!” He tackled Tony with a hug, relaxing slightly in the man’s arms. 

“Good,” Tony chuckled, “‘Cause I’ve got about three more for you and your aunt each.”

II

“Tony, where’re we going?” Peter whined, his breath fogging the window. “Tell meeee!”

“My lips are sealed,” Tony said, pretending to zip his lips shut and throw away the key. “We’re almost there, Rudolph, don’t worry.”

“Rudolph?!” Peter snorted.

Tony reached over the console to ruffle his hair. “I thought you might want a Christmas nickname,” he explained. “Plus, y’know, you already had a nickname available that only required a bit of simple reconstruction, Roo.”

Peter shook his head. “Just tell meeee!”

“No. Never.”

“Pleeease?”

“I physically can’t, buddy.”

“Tell me! Tellmetellmetellme pleeeeeeeeease?”

“Will… to keep secrets… decreasing,” Tony said robotically. “Fine. We’re going ice-skating, Petey-Pie.”

Peter gasped, his big chocolate eyes going wide. “Really?!” 

Tony grinned and glanced over to his kid. “Really.” He wished he could stop the car and give his sweet boy a hug. 

“But…” Peter bit his lip. “I don’t really know how. I mean, I went ice skating with Ned a few years ago but we mostly fell over and bruised our butts.”

Tony chuckled fondly. “That’s okay kiddie, I’ll show you the arts. Rhodey and I went when we were in college, and man, we had a blast laughing at each other. Oh- we’re here!”

“Tony, I don’t have any skates!” Peter realized as they hopped out of the car. 

“I already got you some, Pete, don’t worry,” Tony assured him. He opened the trunk of the car. “And I brought you an extra hat, a coat, a scarf, some better gloves, extra socks and a pair of snow pants.” 

“Tony,” Peter began, leaning into the hug the man offered him all the same. He grumbled and rolled his eyes but let Tony wrap a scarf around his neck and trade his thin woolen gloves out for much warmer, thicker ones. Peter had to admit he felt a lot warmer. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Thanks, Pete. M’kay, I’ve got these fancy red and blue skates for you and red and gold for me.” 

“And I’m sure the color choices were random?” Peter asked sarcastically. “Wait- these have the Spider-Man logo on them! Mr. Stark, are there Spider-Man ice-skates?!”

Tony bent to kiss his forehead. “There are, Pete. Pretty cool, huh?”

“So cool! I love ‘em, thank you, Tony!” He held up the skates to admire them. “They’re great!”

“No problem, buddy. It was my pleasure.”

Peter flopped down in the snow and pulled on his skates. He looked up to admire the tall oak and pine trees swaying gently with the wind, the last leaves of fall scattering along the icy roads. A pair of snowflakes drifted down to his coat, and Peter felt a sort of peace flow through him.

“Petey? Are you comin’?” Tony called, skating back and forth along the edge of the pond. Peter knotted the laces of his skates tightly and struggled to his feet.

“I’m trying!” he yelled, staggering forward. He leaned over the ice and felt a bit dizzy. It was about a foot down to the actual ice, and Peter knew without a doubt that he would slip if he tried to get down. “I dunno, um….”

“I gotcha, Petey, don’t worry.” Tony held out his arms and gave him a reassuring smile. Hesitantly, Peter lowered stepped onto the frozen pond, grabbing Tony’s arm and clinging to him as he got both feet on the ice. 

“Good job, Roo!” the man praised, lifting him up by the armpits so he was standing up a bit straighter. He couldn’t help but compare Peter to a fawn who just stood up for the very first time, and the boy’s big bambi eyes weren’t helping his case. “Getting on the ice is the hardest part. I’ve landed on my ass more times than I can count.” Tony frowned at himself. “Sorry I said ‘ass,’ don’t repeat that.”

Peter snorted. His skates slipped and he felt Tony’s arms tighten around him. “Whoa there, buddy. I gotcha.” He tucked a loose curl behind the teen’s ear and kissed his cheek, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

“‘M’kay, you ready, Pete?” 

“Heck yeah!” 

Tony grinned. “Okay, first, you said ‘heck yeah’ instead of ‘hell yeah’ and that’s adorable,” he teased, chuckling at Peter’s eye roll. “Second: let’s wreck this rink!”

Though of course, they ended up making more of a wreck of themselves rather than the rink.

The very second Peter slid his foot forward, he found himself spontaneously falling backwards. Luckily, Tony caught him easily and gently pulled him back up. 

“I meant to do that,” he huffed, his small hands scrabbling at Tony’s coat. “It was- completely- intentional.” 

“Of course it was, Roo, I know that,” he said with a raise of his eyebrows. “No one has the grace and agility you do.”

“I am graceful, Tony! How dare you?!” Peter grumbled. 

Tony might have made a quip about the arms wrapped tightly around his waist for support, but he decided his poor kid had suffered enough. Despite bumping into every table or chair in his path, Peter was surprisingly graceful, especially when he swung with ease through the air on a thin stand of webbing. “You are graceful, buddy, I promise,” he admitted. “You wanna give it another try?”

Peter stuck his tongue out at him, adjusted his hat, and gingerly took a step forward. Tony tensed, ready to lunge forward and catch him if the boy slipped, but found himself letting a quiet cheer. “Nice job, Pete!”

Peter beamed at him, his legs spread far apart and his arms extended for balance. He tipped backwards and Tony started to jump forward, but Peter flailed his arms around and regained his balance.

“I think you’re getting the hang of it, kiddo!” Tony called as Peter made his way to the opposite side of the pond. He winced suddenly, protectiveness flooding through him at his retreating figure. “Be careful! Wait for me!”

He caught up to Peter easily and zipped in front of him, catching him by the shoulders. “You’re doing great, baby!” 

“Thanks,” he giggled, looking down at his shoes. He wiped his red nose with the back of his hand and sniffled. “‘S fun!”

Tony smiled and adjusted Peter’s scarf. “Glad to hear it.”

“Tony?” he asked. “Can you do a figure eight?”

The man paused to consider this, clicking his tongue. “Only one way to find out!” he decided. 

Peter watched excitedly as he skated out to the middle of the pond, looking practically weightless. Tony took a deep breath, prayed he didn’t break any bones, then pushed off. He zoomed around the pond in a perfect figure eight, only faltering for a brief moment, and traced over it twice before he skidded back to Peter. “Ta-da!”

Peter applauded, clearly very impressed. Tony bowed exaggeratedly and pretended to be embarrassed. 

“D’you think I should try?” Peter asked. 

Tony smiled fondly. “Only if you want to. I know you’d nail it though.”

And he did. Peter skated carefully to the edge of the pond and performed the figure eight beautifully, spinning in circles and laughing when he got a bit too dizzy.

Tony skated up to him, his eyes huge. “Jesus, Petey, that was fantastic!” He pulled the embarrassed teen to his chest and wished, not for the first time, that Peter wasn’t wearing a hat so he could kiss the top of his head. He settled for Peter’s cheek instead. “Wow, baby, that was amazing! Wait- I gotta sign you up for the Olympics. Where’s my phone- oh, I got it.” He pulled his phone from his coat.

“Tony, nooooo!” Peter protested.

“Tony yes. You’re too talented.”

“It was just a figure eight!” he giggled. “And you did one too so you hafta sign yourself up.” Peter looked up to the gray sky and shivered as the brisk winds tore at his heavy coat and scarf. He leaned even closer to Tony.

“You cold, baby?” Tony rubbed his back gently, hoping to generate some warmth. “Wanna go back home? We can come back here anytime you want.”

Peter sighed a bit sadly, but he had to admit he was freezing. He and Tony skated back to the car quickly. Snowflakes began to fall rapidly down as gusts of wind tried to upset their balance. Tony helped Peter onto the bank and they hurriedly yanked off their ice skates.

They found refuge in the car only when Tony turned the heater up full blast and  leaned over the console to pull Peter into his arms. Peter’s shivers that had been worrying him far more than Tony had been willing to say eventually died off and together they watched what was now practically a blizzard raging outside.

“Just in time,” Tony mumbled into Peter’s curls. “Feel any better, baby?”

He grew worried when he received no response and pulled back. Peter’s eyes were shut and his breathing slow, though he made a small whimpering noise in the back of his throat when Tony pulled away. Tony smiled, a tender, loving light in his eyes and pulled Peter back into his arms, cradling his kid against his chest and rubbing his back soothingly. “‘M here. ‘M here, baby, don’t worry,” he cooed, planting a kiss on his forehead. 

Peter curls tickled his cheek, his warm breath heating the skin of Tony’s neck. The console between him and his kid was uncomfortable and hard against his side, but he wouldn’t have moved for the world. Tony held Peter tightly and closed his eyes.

Maybe they could stay there a little while as they waited for the blizzard to pass.

III

Tony had been brewing a hot cup of coffee in the kitchen when a disheveled, sniffling, sleepy Peter face-planted into his back.

“Whoa, bud!” Tony spun around and caught the boy under the armpits. “Hey, hey. Are you okay?” He tilted Peter’s chin back and found that his nose was bright red, his eyes were half-lidded, and his bedhead was a lot worse (though still absolutely adorable) than it usually was.

“‘M fine,” Peter sniffled, leaning heavily against his chest. “Missed you.”

“Oh, baby,” Tony murmured, wrapping his arms around the small teen, “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, okay?” He gave his definitely-not-sick spider-baby a smooch on his temple. “You’re pretty warm,” he noted with a hint of worry in his voice. He pressed the back of his hand to the teen’s forehead. “Do you wanna lie down, kiddo?”

Peter shook his head weakly. “Wan’ you.”

Tony’s heart melted and he turned into a pile of mush. In this tired, sick, achy state Peter was clingier than ever, and all he wanted was him. He wanted Tony. He kissed Peter’s temple. “I’m gonna stay right here, Petey, don’t worry,” he assured his kid. “I promise.” 

Tony held Peter with one arm while he rummaged through the kitchen cabinets with the other. “FRI? What’s up with the spider-baby?”

“Peter is exhibiting symptoms of a common cold, such as coughing, sneezing, a runny nose, and a fever,” the AI replied. Tony felt a pang of worry and empathy in his heart. 

“Okay. I’ve got your pain meds,” he announced in a whisper. “Do you want water or OJ?”

Peter decided on the latter, not bothering to raise his head but simply mumbling “juice” into the man’s chest. Tony hummed in agreement and attempted to pour a glass for himself one-handedly (most of the juice ended up on the counter, but holding his sick kid was far more important than pouring orange juice).

He led the boy to the couch, a steadying hand around his shoulders. Peter snuggled against him, coughing and sniffling. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and shivered.

Tony placed two white pills into palm. Peter took a hesitant sip of his drink and gulped down the pills. Tony tucked an errant curl behind his ear and placed a kiss one his temple. 

With Peter still in his hold, he strained to reach the weighted electric blanket that had fallen behind the couch. With a painful crack from his twisted back, he finally managed to get his fingers around the feather-soft blanket and settled back on the couch with a triumphant grunt.

He wrapped the electric blanket tightly around them both. Peter’s shivering caused a surge of fierce protection to run through his veins, and Tony hugged him to his chest, pressing a kiss to his soft, though slightly sweaty curls. He glared at the dark corners of the room, as if somehow the very cold that was making his child suffer so much would leap from the shadows.  

Peter found comfort in the vibrations of Tony’s chest and the beat of his heart. The calloused fingers running through his hair and the occasional kiss against his temple soothed him beyond measure, and without ever realizing it, Peter started to drift off. Compared to when he had woken up, soaked with sweat, wheezing and sniffling and rather nauseous, he felt so much better in his father-figure’s embrace.

Dimly, he noticed that Tony was talking to him. He thought he recognized the words coming out of his mouth, and he realized suddenly that Tony was reading Mr. Willowby’s Christmas Tree to him. That book had been Peter’s favorite when he was a small toddler, and hearing the familiar words aloud brought a big burst of happiness to his chest. 

Peter let his eyes slip shut for a second. The headache that had been pounding in his head was completely gone and in Tony’s arms, he felt incredibly warm and cozy and happy. 

When his eyes opened again, he determined that Tony had finished reading the book. If he had had enough energy, he would have asked him to read another. But much to his delight, he realized Tony had already picked up another book.

And just before his eyes fluttered shut, he heard Tony’s gentle voice speaking, full of love. “I love you, Petey.”

I love you too.

IV

“Mmm, Tony, the spaghetti was fantastic!” May exclaimed as she loaded her plate into the dishwasher. “I need that recipe, it’s just too good!” 

Tony looked at Peter out of the corner of his eyes. The boy shook his head frantically and drew a finger across his throat. Tony snickered. “Thank you, May, I’m glad to hear that,” he said.

To be completely truthful, he felt like throwing up. During the dinner, Peter had chatted enough to distract him, but now his emotions were left to himself, and Tony had barely been swallowed by them. He stuffed the last plate in the dishwasher and took a few long, deep breaths. He massaged his forehead and blinked, sitting down heavily on the couch.

Tony’s heart was beating out of his chest. He looked up to the boy, who was texting someone- probably Ned, completely oblivious. “Pete?” he began shakily. “Do you think we could talk for a second?” He and May shared a glance. She realized immediately what he was about to do and gave him an encouraging smile and a thumbs up. 

“Yeah!” Peter vaulted onto the couch with a laugh. His grin faded when he saw how worried, how scared the man looked. Alarm kindled in his chest. “What’s wrong, Mr. Stark?”

Tony couldn’t bring himself to laugh at the cookie crumbs in the corners of his mouth or the way his hair frizzed everywhere as he pulled his Santa hat off. He swallowed and took a deep breath.

“Um-” Tony had to clear his throat. He reached down and grabbed a briefcase leaning against the couch that Peter hadn’t noticed before. “Uh,” he tried. He pulled two papers out of the briefcase and stared at them for a long while. “Do you think that you could give these a read, kiddo?”

Peter nodded silently and took them. He looked up at Tony, his head tilted in confusion.

He looked to the papers. His eyes widened in disbelief. “W-what? I-” He turned the papers over as if there would be a sticky note saying “IT'S A PRANK!” on the back. “What? W-what? I-I don’t-” Peter shook his head. 

He couldn’t stop looking at those cream-colored papers. 

Child: Peter Benjamin Parker

Adopting Parent(s): Anthony Edward Stark 

The rest of the paper was blank, except for Tony’s signature at the bottom. 

“Am I asleep? This-this is a dream, right?” Peter's eyes were filling with tears but he didn’t bother to wipe them away.

“It’s not a dream, sweetheart,” May said gently. “It’s real.” She squeezed his knee, hoping to ground him.

“Really?” He opened his mouth but couldn’t seem to form words. He gaped like a fish, reading the adoption papers over and over again. “You-you wanna adopt me?” he finally managed to squeak out.

Tony finally gathered the courage to look at his kid. “Yeah, baby. But only if you want to, okay? Nothing would change, though. We’d- just be making it official. Everything would be the same except-” He throat closed, and suddenly he couldn’t speak. 

Except Peter would be his official son- legally, on paper. And Tony would be his official dad. (There was no way Tony wasn’t already his dad.)

“What are you thinking, baby?” he murmured, instinctively tucking a curl behind Peter’s ear with shaky hands. 

Tony’s gentle touch was enough to break the dam of emotions that had been holding back. Peter sniffled, then burst into tears and practically jumped into his dad’s arms. 

Tony hugged him tightly, rubbing a hand up and down his back and pressing long kisses to his temple. Peter blubbered into his chest, happy tears soaking Tony’s sweater. May wrapped her arms around the two and squeezed them both tightly.

Tony felt tears prickle in his own eyes and he dropped his forehead to Peter’s curls. “Is that a yes?” he finally managed to say.

Peter giggled wetly and nodded frantically against his chest. 

A grin as wide as a dinner plate crossed Tony’s face. He realized suddenly that tears were streaming down his cheeks, but he didn’t wipe them away. He kissed the top of Peter's head and squeezed him tighter. 

May pressed a quick kiss on Peter’s cheek and stood up. “I’ll be back in a bit,” she said, sensing that the father and son might want a moment alone. 

Tony rocked his kid back and forth, rubbing his back and pressing kiss after kiss to his cheek. “I love you,” he murmured into his chestnut curls. “I love you.” IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou.

“Love you,” Peter babbled. “I love you too. I love you.”

He held Peter at an arm’s length, still grinning. Then he pulled his kid back to him again and kissed his cheek, wiping away his tears with the pad of his thumb. “I love you.”

Peter sniffled, wiping his nose with his sweater. He wrapped his arms around Tony’s neck and curled around him like a koala. He leaned heavily against his dad’s chest, his breathing beginning to even out. Tony’s chest vibrated with every “I love you so much, Petey” and his ceaseless murmurs of love and comfort.    

“Love you, Dad,” he said sleepily, his eyelids drooping. 

A lump formed in Tony’s throat that he couldn’t seem to swallow past. Tears started to trickle down his cheeks. “Petey-” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “I love you so much. So damn much, okay?” He ran his hand up and down the boy’s back, kissing his temple and trying to blink his happy tears away. 

Tony felt himself slowly drifting asleep. He blinked, and then his cheek was resting on his kid’s curls. His eyes closed again, and suddenly May was there, draping a blanket over them. He tried to tell her to get Peter’s special heated blanket, because his poor kid couldn’t thermoregulate and absolutely hated the cold. Then he realized that she had already tucked it around the boy and sighed in relief, finally letting himself relax.

May settled on the opposite side of Peter and wrapped an arm around him. Within minutes she was snoring quietly, but Tony was too tired to notice. A wave of joy and peace and love washed over him, and his eyes slipped shut.

~~~~~

/ST*RKERS DNI/

~~~~~

Taglist:  @imissyoutoo @aj-that-person @tonystark-deserves-better @nathaly-ab @skeeter-110 @peter-and-tony-vlogs @teammightypen @joyful-soul-collector @loveliestdisappointment @depuella @scwene-qween @honeythepooh @pixiethefirecat7 @spider-man-lover @jami161 @bringitonvoldie @queen-of-sarcasm-25 @roxy3457 @memilon @iron-loyalty @gralaca @bitchingpretty @pillowspace @thatminecraftgal @clockworkteacup @hatakehikari @wtfischeese @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @skydiving-without-a-parachute @yansi1923 @slytherin-hamilton-life-12  @dead-inside-pt2 @name-me-regret​ @zanderljones @spidy8664 @hold-our-destiny

If anyone wants to be added/ removed please let me know!

[fantasticstoryteller]

New Amsterdam Chapter 17

“Peter, Jamison wants you in his office.”

Peter winced and clutched the handle of his bag defensively. “I’m not late!” he said desperately.

Beth rolled her eyes at him, purple eye shadow glinting in the office lights. “It doesn’t matter,” she said firmly. “He wants you in his office now.”

Peter knew better than to argue. The whole staff of the Daily Bugle knew better than to argue. He quickly made his way through the crowded halls of the Bugle to Jamison’s office and timidly knocked to introduce himself before going in. Standing at Jamison’s desk was another man, a guy with short, pitch black hair, who looked about as happy as Jamison—i.e. not at all. “I’m here, Mr. Jamison,” said Peter nervously.

“Peter, meet Eddie. Eddie, this is Peter. What have you got for me today, Peter?” demanded Jamison’s harshly. Peter could hear the crunching noise as he savagely chewed through the candy he’d taken to eating when he’d stopped smoking.

Peter quickly reached into his bag and pulled out the pictures he’d taken before handing them to his boss. “He—hello,” he stammered towards Eddie. The man just glared at him and Peter tried to retreat further into himself.

He found himself wishing, as Jamison went through the photos, that Wade was with him. He had no doubt that Wade’s presence might just antagonize his coworkers at the Bugle more—but Peter found his presence reassuring. He felt warm and safe with Wade and none of that had anything to do with how Wade was determined to not only respect Spiderman’s identity, but defend him against what anyone else had to say about the subject. Nope. Not at all.

Jamison slammed one of the photos onto the desk and Peter jumped—and then stared, confused. It wasn’t one of his best works; the lines were blurred and it was difficult to see what was going on. Why would Jamison draw attention to t his one?

“See that, Eddie?” growled Jamison. “This is the worst of Parker’s photos. And this,” he added as he slammed down another one—showing Iron Man and Black Widow in battle with a faceless (literally) man, “This is the quality he usually brings me. You want his job? Do it better.”

Peter first glowed at the rare (exceptionally rare) praise until he realized the other man wanted his job. Why? The Bugle didn’t even pay that much, and Peter knew for a fact that they negotiated to sell the photos to other newspapers and sites. He cringed away from the sudden death glare he was getting from the other man.

“Parker, the printer’s acting up again,” growled Jamison.

Peter didn’t have to be told twice. “Yes, Sir,” he said quickly retreating from the office. Beth looked up and smirked at him. “You knew,” he whispered, feeling betrayed.

She rolled her eyes. “Of course I knew. Just as I know that he’ll be hired anyway, because Jamison loves his turn of invective phrase. And when you’re done with the printer I need help with the website.”

Peter nodded jerkily and went to get a set of the company over-alls that they used for the printing press in the basement. The thing was old, and was always jamming. It was easy enough to fix—and messy enough that only people at the bottom of the hierarchy (Peter) were sent to do it. He cleared the old blockage and closed the lid before jumping back at the sight of Eddie staring at him.

Eddie regarded him through narrowed eyes. “How do you do it?” he demanded suspiciously.

“I—uh, I take out the old paper to clear the blockage before refilling with new paper,” said Peter warily as he moved, cautiously, towards the door. He didn’t understand why he was suddenly sharing a room with Eddie—the man looked at him like he was scum and his senses were giving a low-level, irritating buzz.

“Not that,” said Eddie. His tone was casual. His body language was anything but. “I mean the pictures.”

Peter was even more confused. “The pictures? Well, the programming does most of the work—”

“The pictures you take,” growled Eddie through clenched teeth. “How do you know the best places to be?”

Oh. Oh. Peter nervously fidgeted with the safety goggles he was wearing. “I work at Stark Industries,” he said, “and they’re pretty good about assistants taking odd breaks as long as all the work gets done.”

“What does that—oh.” Eddie regarded Peter with a little bit more respect. “So you use the information you get at work to know when and where to go.”

“It’s not secret information,” Peter said quickly. He didn’t want anyone to think he was stealing secrets from Mr. Stark. “They announce it over the intercom. The only times I can’t go is when they’re expecting something to attack the Tower and lock it down with everyone inside.” The buzz wasn’t diminishing, and Peter swallowed. “I’ve got to—I’ve got to go,” he said quickly before fleeing.

He carefully hung the ink stained over-alls back up, grabbed his bag, and clocked out before leaving. He fled the building and then sighed as he trudged back home. He had some money from Jamison—but he was going to have to use it for the rest of his rent, some food, and some more medical supplies. His first aid kit was dangerously low, and he didn’t have anything to eat at home. The food he’d gotten at Oscorp was already wearing thin. Not for the first time, he cursed his quick metabolism.

“Petey-Pie!” called a familiar voice.

Peter whirled to see the familiar red and black figure coming towards him. “Wade!” he said happily right before he was squeezed in a hug.

“Oh, Petey-Pie! It’s been forever since I hugged you!”

Peter reached around the mercenary to hug him back and felt tense muscles relaxing. “You liar,” he said fondly. “It was just four o’clock this afternoon.”

“Do you know how many chapters that was Petey?” whined Wade. “I need my Peter fix!” He rubbed his masked cheek against Peter’s bare one and the stitches rasped against his face.

“Chapters?” he asked in confusion. “Are you reading a book?”

“I’d tell ya, Pete,” said Wade as he held the smaller man, “but you’d think I was crazy.”

Peter chuckled and gently squeezed in a return hug. “You are crazy,” he said fondly.

Crazy enough to believe he could change.

Crazy enough to believe Spiderman had a good reason for keeping his identity secret.

Crazy enough to get close to Peter Parker.

“You say that like it’s a good thing,” Wade said.

Peter leaned back enough to where he could look into the whites of Wade’s mask. “Who says it’s a bad thing?” he challenged. “I—”

“So this is how you get your information,” said voice, dripping with disgust. Peter broke way enough to see Eddie behind them. The raw disgust on his face was enough to make him take a step back, and the mere sight brought back that low-level warning buzz. “Fucking the freaks.”

“Hmm. Peter, who is this?” asked Deadpool as he tucked himself around Peter again.

“This is Eddie. I think he’s my coworker?” Jamison had mentioned something about Eddie wanting his job—but why? It just didn’t pay that much, and no one like to wrangle the printer.

“Oh? Hello Eddie. I’d offer to shake your hand, but I’m hugging my baby boy right now.” The arm around Peter’s waist tightened slightly, and the other crossed Peter’s torso. Peter would have relaxed into the embrace—if he hadn’t been all too aware of the fact that Deadpool had just moved his hand closer to his sword.

Eddie put both his hands in his pockets—and Peter winced. Deadpool had once sliced the arms off of a crook who did that (I swear he was reaching for a gun, and you’re not bullet-proof Spidey!) and Peter waited anxiously to see what would happen. Eddie simply left his hands there, and chuckled.

The sound was disturbingly similar to what Norman had uttered as Harry was recovering from nearly dying in the office.

“I just want to get an edge, that’s all,” Eddie said with a sly grin. Without looking at Peter he asked, “Peter, do you believe in the concept of fair play?”

“Um—yes?”

“Do you believe that in a competition to see who is truly the best, both people should be on equal footing?

“…yes?”

The grin widened. “Excellent. Hey, Deadpool. How about you give me a heads up, next time shit’s going down?”

Deadpool tucked his chin into the crook of Peter’s neck and there was a slight change—an almost relaxation that left him somewhere between Deadpool and Wade. “Hmm. That does sound fair.” Eddie smirked. “But, I won’t do it. You upset my little Petey-Pie, and the only reason you’re still breathing is because Spidey Senpai would be mad at me.” He rubbed his cheek against Peter’s again. “And just as Baby Boy believes in fair play, he also believes in honesty. Don’t you Baby Boy?”

“We—well, it’s always important to try to be truthful,” Peter said. He couldn't tell anyone he was Spiderman—but he didn’t deny it either. Actually, he was more careful that it didn’t come up. He wasn’t sure if that counted as lying or not.

Deadpool heaved an exaggerated sigh. “There you go. If Spidey asked Petey-Pie if I killed someone, Petey would tell the truth. So you live. Now live somewhere I’m not tempted.” He took his gloved hand away from Peter’s shoulder and made shooing motion with it. Eddie growled—but left. Peter let out a low, slow breath and relaxed as Wade cuddled him close again. “I don’t know how to say this, but you need a bodyguard.”

Peter really wouldn't put it past Eddie to ambush him in an alley on the way home. While he could fight off the other reporter—he couldn't do it without telling people he was Spiderman. “True,” he said. He looked up at Wade’s chin. “Want to come shopping with me? I got paid today.”

[hale-13]

Into the Atmosphere

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 13 - Sacrificed

The Infinity Gauntlet, lying harmlessly but ominously in his hands, pulsed with a preternatural warmth and feeling of power that seeped through the Iron Spider and his regular Spidey suit under it. It felt more like a siren’s call than Peter felt comfortable with and he could understand the inclination to slip it on and wield that power.

Words: 2674, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Teen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Pet er Parker, Tony Stark, Stephen Strange, Thanos

TW: Major Character Injury

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

As a native New Yorker, Peter was used to weird shit as a kid. Watching a wormhole open over the new Stark Industries building? Watching hoards of aliens and space whales filter through to invade Manhattan? No one was prepared for that, least of all a kid.

May and Ben, an ER nurse and a police officer respectively had both been held up at work and had not been home with Peter, leaving him completely alone. His heart had pounded in his chest, triggering multiple asthma attacks that were barely mitigated with his inhaler, as he watched and wondered if he would ever see his remaining family ever again. Seeing Iron Man fly a nuke launched by his over government into the wormhole and nearly die had probably affected him more than he cared to admit.

But that was then. Now, Peter had no problem throwing himself head first into danger at smallest provocation. But, that being said, even this was a bit much for him.

The Infinity Gauntlet, lying harmlessly but ominously in his hands, pulsed with a preternatural warmth and feeling of power that seeped through the Iron Spider and his regular Spidey suit under it. It felt more like a siren’s call than Peter felt comfortable with and he could understand the inclination to slip it on and wield that power.

He didn’t stop though. He didn’t give in a slip on the glove or let anything close enough to take it from him, dodging another blast from one of the dog-alien-things and letting his suit’s nanotech appendages (Instant Kill activated and Karen in partial control) stab the creature through its chest and fling it into the distance. Finally reaching a mostly unoccupied area of the battlefield, Peter paused to catch his breath and made an aborted move to rub away the blood he could feeling pooling from his nose onto his upper lip.

A pointless move really. He was wearing a mask after all.

The blond woman who had descended from space (actual space what the hell) in a fiery halo had tried to reach him but was held up by a veritable flood of aliens all vying for her attention. From Peter’s perspective it didn’t look like any of them were really much of a challenge for her but they made up for weakness in sheer numbers; keeping her overwhelmed and unable to break free.

Peter stumbled on tired and weak legs (it had apparently been five years after all, he reserved the right to be tired), doing his best to continue to dodge and disarm as many enemies as he could while still protecting the gauntlet. The rest of the extended Avengers, the Wakandans, the Asgardians were too busy with their own adversaries to help him. In the distance, Iron Man was blasting through the opposition unreservedly, clearly headed in Peter’s direction but vastly too slow to make a difference.

“Hello child,” Thanos deep voice said from behind him, making Peter’s Spidey sense explode. The titan was calm and quiet compared to the battle raging around them. Peter turned and tripped as he tried to back away as quickly as possible. “You have something there that doesn’t belong to you.”

“You can’t have it,” Peter said, surprising himself at the strength and steadiness of his voice compared to the thrum of fear and anxiety sparking through his nerves like lightning.

Thanos tilted his head, inquisitive and regarding Peter with a small, indulgent almost fatherly grin on his face and Peter felt a shiver course down his spine in warning. “You are brave little one. Perhaps to the point of foolishness but brave nonetheless,” he reached out with a weathered hand to grab the gauntlet but the spider legs attached to Peter’s suit lashed out in offense, Peter’s own free hand shooting up to knock Thanos’ aside.

“No means no asshole,” Peter grunted, scuttling up a mound of rocks behind him so he wasn’t at such a height deficit. “Fuck off.”

Thanos just tsk’d and looked at Peter with disappointment like he was a misbehaving puppy or a child throwing a temper tantrum. “I would rather not have to kill you boy. Hand it over.”

Before Peter could open up his mouth to retort, planning on stalling, the glowing woman (Captain Marvel his brain corrected) smacked into the titan’s side and knocked him away from Peter, her glowing fists more than enough to take him on. His expression had changed from benevolent to murderous as he pulled himself to his feet and threw a return punch, eyes never straying from the Infinity Gauntlet in Peter’s hands. “Uh guys?” Peter squeaked into his comms, turning and running away as quickly as his tired body could take him – aiming for the shitty van Ant-Man had been working to repair. “We’ve got to get ride of this thing – anyone free to help?”

“I’m coming Queens,” Captain America panted. “Hang in there,” he said with a grunt, wading his way across the ruins using both his broken shield and Mjolnir to mow down everyone in his way with extreme prejudice. Watching from the corner of his eye Peter’s stomach dropped: there was no way Cap would reach him in time as tired and injured as he was. Mr. Stark was stuck in a similar position, his nanotech suit morphing around him like high tech water to compensate for all of the damage it had taken.

A cold spike of fear went through Peter: they were going to lose. They were going to lose to Thanos again and this time they had pissed him off enough that he would probably forgo the random chance aspect of his plan and kill all of them. He was going to kill all of the Avengers and May and Peter’s friends. He was going to kill everyone who had just been brought back after five years. They would all be gone again.

Peter guzzled air that never quite seemed to reach his lungs, panicking but not stopping in his mad rush to get the gauntlet as far away as possible (hopefully back to the past where the stones belonged), the sounds of the battle muffled and silent around him. As if by fate, he glanced up and locked eyes with Dr. Strange, stuck holding back a spout of water that would otherwise flood the field, but with his attention solely focused on Peter.

His face was sad and sympathetic as he grimaced and held up a single, shaking finger mouthing ‘there was no other way’ and Peter skidded to an abrupt stop.

Oh.

Peter looked down at the oversized gauntlet resting in his hands and let his mask slide off his face to merge with the neck of his suit. Taking a quick look around him, Peter gave one final sniff and looked back at Dr. Strange, giving a firm and sure nod of understanding.

He knew what he had to do.

The stones glittered across the knuckles of the modified Iron Man gauntlet prettier than any precious gem Peter had ever seen and it took considerably more effort than he cared to admit to not allow himself to just be mystified by them. Peter adjusted his grip to hold the glove more firmly and began to slip it on, the armor automatically shifting to mold to his smaller hand.

“NO!” Peter huffed and felt a single tear leak from the corner of his eye, tickling his nostril as he ignored the agonized scream of his mentor. The gauntlet was half on. “PETER STOP!”

“I’m so sorry Mr. Stark,” he whispered as his fingers slid into place, the glove fully conforming and tightening around his hand.

The immediate pain was stunning and all encompassing and Peter threw his head back, eyes closed, with a grunt. He knees and muscles, already tired and overworked, turned into jelly and he just let himself drop, breath coming in short pants, hearing ringing and vision blurring and darkening around the edges. The hair on the back of his neck was standing on end, his Spidey sense screaming its final death rattle and giving up under the untenable onslaught. His very atoms felt like they were being ripped apart, blowing him apart and remaking him in the Stones image. He wanted to scream but he didn’t have the lung capacity to do much more than endure.

Finally – a second, a minute, a year, an eternity later, everything stabilized just enough for sound to filter back into him: repulsers rushing toward him, angry and desperate yelling from Thanos – barreling toward Peter in a last ditch effort to take the gauntlet for himself – gasps and moans from his own team and silence. Silence as the battle around him stopped and everyone turned to look at him with bated breath.

Using more strength and effort than he ever had before, Peter lifted his shaking right hand up to show the glowing gauntlet to everyone and forced his numb mouth into a lopsided smile – his eyes focused on Tony and only Tony’s terrified face as he said “I’m sorry,” and snapped his fingers.

“Where…?” Peter asked, looking around over the sunset covered lake and then down at his hands – whole and undamaged. He was dressed in his favorite science pun t-shirt, the one Uncle Ben had gotten him their last holiday together and he felt good. No aches and pain from the battle, his arms strong again. He made loose fists with both hands, clenching and relaxing his fingers in absolute wonder at just how good he felt – better than before he had ditched the bus to MOMA that morning (five years ago?) even.

“Hey Petey.”

At the sound of his voicePeter whipped around, already crying streams of silent tears, and wasted no time in rushing the short distance to fling himself into his Uncle’s open arms. “Ben,” he sobbed, embracing the man tightly, afraid he would disappear.

“I’m so proud of you buddy,” Ben whispered, his own tears mingling with Peter’s and returning the hug with equal force. “You’re the kindest, bravest person I’ve ever had the honor to know.”

“Am I dead?” Peter asked, resigned but not sad – he had accepted the possibility the second he put on the Gauntlet.

“Not really,” Ben answered, cryptic. “Somewhere in between would be the best way to describe it.” He stepped back, releasing his hold on Peter to hold him at arms length and grip his shoulders tightly the warm and comforting smile that Peter knew from his childhood on his face. “If you weren’t enhanced you definitely would be but you are so…” Peter just nodded in understanding, furiously wiping at the streams of tears still pouring down his face. “Regardless we don’t have much time.”

“I’m so sorry Ben,” Peter blurted, reaching up a hand to grip tightly onto Ben’s forearm. “I’m so sorry I didn’t stop it. I had my powers, I could have taken the bullet. I could have stopped it.”

Ben’s eyes were soft and his smile lines deepened as his lips twitched up into a sad smile, moving his hands from Peter’s shoulders to cup his face as gently as if he were made of glass. As if he were something precious. “Oh Pete its not your fault, it was never your fault. You were fourteen and staring down the barrel of a gun for the first time, I would have been more concerned if you didn’t freeze.” Ben told him, leaning forward to push their foreheads together, his hand cupping the back of Peter’s neck. “You’re my kid – it doesn’t matter about enhancements or powers – I’ll always put myself between you and danger. I don’t regret anything.”

Peter let out a hoarse sob that shook his frame and pulled Ben back in for another hug. “I love you,” he said fervently, trying to put as much force and emotion into it as he could. “I love you and I miss you and so does May.”

“I love you both so much,” Ben said, squeezing Peter one last time before releasing him and stepping away, water lapping at his ankles and rippling out to the horizon. “As nice as this visit as been Pete, I really hope I don’t see you again any time soon.”

Peter’s answering chuckle was watery will unshed tears, his vision already fading as Ben disappeared followed by the serene lake and sunset; the dusty battlefield snapping back into focus.

His body was numb in the way that promised pain if he could feel anything, his heartbeat stuttering and aching in his chest as Peter collapsed back against a pile of rocks and broken pieces of building. His body was limp and unable to support itself and his head lolled to rest on his undamaged left shoulder.

“Peter!” Tony’s devastated voice creeped in and Peter tried to smile but he couldn’t really tell if his muscles were responding, his eyesight was so dark. Gentle hands pulled him to rest against a warm body, lying his head in a more comfortable position and cupping to undamaged side of his face in a calloused palm. The grip was as careful as if he were made of glass and maybe he was. “Stay with me Pete, just stay with me okay?”

“Tony,” Peter rasped out, his voice broken and so so quiet, but it carried – the battlefield was a silent as a tomb beyond the heavy breathing of the surrounding Avengers. Peter had done it apparently.

His mentor let out a sob that he didn’t bother to disguise and ran his hands through Peter’s sweaty curls – it felt nice. “I’m so proud of you,” Tony said earnestly, echoing Ben and making Peter’s heart clench and skip a beat, his voice absolutely mangled with emotion. “You’re the absolute best of us and I’m so beyond proud of you buddy but I just need you to stay awake okay kiddo?”

“I’m tired,” Peter croaked, his eyes sinking closed against his will and only reopening due to Tony’s panicked jostling.

“I know kiddo, I know,” Tony choked out. “I’ll let you rest soon I promise but just humor me a little longer alright? A few more minutes for your old mentor huh?”

“Love you,” Peter said, forcing his voice to be as strong as possible even as his body sagged further and his heart rate slowed. “Tell May… Love her.” He was ready to rest. Peter’s left hand, barely gripping Tony’s with the very last of his strength, loosened and fell against his chest. His eyesight failed.

The last thing he heard was Tony, crying and begging him to stay.

————————————————

Part of Peter expected to be back in the lake or with Ben but instead he was met with only darkness.

It worked for him though to be honest. He could relax in the dark, let his mind wander and rest in equal measure, his worries gone and – for the first time in a long time – feeling no pain.

On occasion he thought he could hear voices whispering in the distance or see something bright far away but neither stayed long enough for him to investigate further. He still felt tired down to his bones and, as the time passed, his right side began to feel more and more like static and less numb, bright sparks of something like pain flaring through him like lightening and soon forgotten.

The light flickered – sometimes brighter sometimes nearly dimmed out – but seemed to get closer to more Peter looked at it and memories filtered in. Space, melting into dust, fighting with his childhood heroes, snapping, Ben… Tony… wanting to give up so bad but not doing it.

“Please wake up,” a broken voice whispered in the distance. “Please don’t die when I just got you back.”

Seconds, minutes, days, years later Peter opened eyelids that weighed a ton each to look around with blurry vision at the white room around him and the dark human-shaped spot next to him, his lips turning up just the smallest amount.

[incorrect-spiderson]

41 and 42 with Ironfam for the Christmas prompts! ❤️💚

Mmmmfmfmfm so I was drinking hot chocolate and eating a candy cane while writing this so I was feeling super christmasy. Enjoy!!

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It wasn’t that Peter didn’t like the snow. He loved it, actually. Pristine white powder that can make the entire world seem pure and perfect, even for just a little while. The freezing flakes that bring endless school days to a halt and are each unique in their own ways. Really, what was there to not like about snow?

Apparently the fact that it is very... very cold. That part isn’t fun, at all. Especially considering that, less than twenty-four hours ago, Tony had been digging out Peter’s near frozen body from a snow bank after a mission gone wrong.

Stupid evil snowmen.

That’s right folks. Thanks to his spidery-ness, he can’t thermoregulate. Which means he can’t withstand temperatures more extreme than normal. Which also means no more snow days.

Peter sighs and takes another small sip of his hot chocolate. He pulls the blanket up a little tighter around his shoulders and sinks into the couch. Leaning his head back, he closes his eyes to think.

The cabin is filled with the scent of hot chocolate and freshly baked cookies. He can hear Morgan and Tony yelling outside as they play in the snow. Tony is yelling at Gerald for some reason. Again.

Peter opens his eyes and sets the hot chocolate on the coffee table. He turns his gaze towards the kitchen and smiles.

Mom Pepper is making him soup (even though he said he was perfectly fine), probably chicken noodle. She reaches over the counter to grab something and when her hand meets air, she suddenly pauses. In an instant she blinks away her confusion and smiles. Normally there was a small tray full of candy canes and mints, just incase Pepper ever felt self-indulgent.

Pepper turns back to the soup and instead pops a jelly bean in her mouth. She bites her lip as she remembers she banned candy canes from the house ever since Peter ate one and then collapsed infront of them, seizing.

Yeah. Spiders don’t like peppermint either.

Peter burys his head between his knees and pulls the blanket even tighter around his shoulders. He’s a nuisance. He should be home with May, not intruding on this perfect family’s Christmas. Not sitting on their couch or drinking their hot chocolate, using their blanket, or even being in their house whatsoever. He doesn’t belong.

Though, it’s not like he has much of a choice.

May has been hospitalized ever since they snapped back into existence. People reappeared in the middle of construction sites, midair, and in tons of other dangerous situations that hadn’t been dangerous 5 years ago. Well, May had been searching the city for him and just happened to be crossing the street when she dusted.

Peter wipes away the forming tears and bites his lip. She has to get better. The doctor said she was lucky and could possibly be out of the hospital in February.

But.

She still hasn’t woken up from her coma. In reality Peter knows the doctor didn’t lie to him at the time. May had just gotten out of surgery when the doctor spoke with him. But Peter really, really wanted to be live she would be okay. And they could celebrate every holiday they’ve missed and everything would be fine.

But it might not be.

She might not wake up.

Ever.

So, Peter was stuck intruding. Stuck being a nuisance. The least he could do was stay out of their way while they-

“MORGAN STARK! Don’t you dare bring that snowball in the house, DON’T YOU DARE-”

Peter looks up when he hears Tony fall to the ground outside with an ‘oof!’. The door is suddenly thrown open and Morgan comes sprinting through in her snow gear. Before Peter can really register what’s happening, Morgan is jumping on top of him.

He catches the little girl mid-air, causing the blanket to fall off his shoulders. He sits his sister the girl on his lap but nearly drops her when his sweatpants get covered in now melting snow.

“Mo Mo, what are you doing in here? Last I checked, the snow is supposed to stay outside the house.” Morgan turns to him with a face of only pure betrayal. Her nose sncruches up and she pushes his shoulder.

“Petey you sound like daddy. I just wanted a juice pop! And they don’t make juice pops outside the house!”

Pepper suddenly peaks around the corner, eyeing the her daughter who tracked snow in the house. “Morgan Stark, it is the middle of winter. No juice pops until it’s at least above freezing outside.”

“But momma, juice pops are the best in the whole wide world!”

Pepper shakes her head and gives Peter a pleading look. Peter shifts Morgan on his legs and boops her nose. “Weird, I thought cookies were the bestest in the world?”

Morgan throws her head back in tantrum and sticks out her tongue. Regardless she turns to lean into Peter’s chest. He chooses to ignore the fact that his sweats are now soaked and his shirt is seconds from suffering the same fate. Instead he focuses on her wrapping her, now ungloved, hands around to his back. She sticks her freezing little hands in his shirt and bury’s her head into his chest.

Peter takes off her hat and rests his chin on her head as he rubs her back. “You cold Mo Mo?”

Morgan squeezes him tighter and mumbles out a “mhm”.

He reaches forward slightly and grabs his hot chocolate. “Hey, Mo, want some of my hot chocolate? It’ll get you nice and warm so you can go outside and hit daddy in the face with snowballs.”

Morgan lifts her head from his chest and lets go of his back to reach for the hot chocolate. She counts the marshmallows that haven’t melted and brings the warm liquid to her lips. Once she finishes the drink, she sighs and leans back onto Peter’s chest.

He watches as her eyes slowly grow heavier and heavier. She slips off her boots and curls completely into Peter’s lap. He takes the empty mug from her and gently sets it on the coffee table. Peter slips off her jacket and snow pants so she’s left in her pajamas from the morning.

Peter moves to get off the couch so he can set the the little girl down to sleep, but she instantly pulls back into his chest. She tiredly opens her eyes and whines. “Peter don’ go. You’ warm.”

Peter’s eyes widen and he lays back down on the couch. He moves Morgan on top of his chest and she instantly wraps herself around him. Peter smiles and grabs his previously forgotten blanket. “Here ya go Mo. Wrap up like a burrito and take a nap.”

Morgan takes the blanket? But instead of wrapping herself up she pulls it over the both of them. Then she burys her face into the side of Peter’s neck. “You gotta stay warm too bubba.”

At her words, Peter’s heart leaps in his chest. She considered him family. But why? He’s just a nuisance!

“Hey Mo Mo what do you-”

Peter quickly realizes the girl had dozed off. He pushes away any thoughts of doubt he’d had before and just pulls the little girl, no, his sister closer. He gives her a small kiss on the head and lightly rubs her back.

Suddenly, Tony comes stomping through the door. “Damnit Gerald! Can’t believe my Alpaca ate my glove. That little shit.”

Tony is covered nearly head to toe in snow and is wearing a half eaten glove. The man takes off his snow gear and moves into the kitchen. He snatches a cookie and gives Pepper a kiss. Without turning around, he calls out to Peter.

“Hey Pete.”

Peter looks to Morgan as she slightly shifts, then replies. “Yeah?”

Tony grabs a fresh cup of coffee but still doesn’t turn. “Should come outside and have a snowball fight with us.”

“Uhm right now isn’t the best time. I don’t really feel like-”

“Mhm cause you know you’re gonna lose huh.”

Peter rolls his eyes and pulls the blanket up a little more around Morgan’s shoulders. He catches Pepper smiling at them from the kitchen. He points to Tony and then makes the spins his finger by his head to show that ‘he’s crazy’.

Pepper gives a breathless laugh and nudges Tony. The man turns to his wife and finally catches sight of his children. Tony smiles and shakes his head. “Kid you are never getting her off you.”

Pet smiles, still rubbing the little girl’s back. “Y’know, that’s alright. That’s what big brothers are for, right?”

Tony suddenly feels a swell of pride in hearing that. Peter final considered himself part of the family. The man nods and stares at his kids.

“Sure is, buddy. Sure is.”

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Bonus:

~Ten minutes later~

“HEY EVERYONE! Harley has arrived! Peter get your ass off the- ope never mind. Anyways.. shit do I smell cookies? Mom I swear if there’s raisins in them-”

Tony sighs. “Aaaand there’s kid number 3.”

🎅🏼🎄🎅🏼🎄🎅🏼🎄🎅🏼🎄🎅🏼🎄🎅🏼🎄🎅🏼🎄🎅🏼🎄🎅🏼🎄

Ahhh this was so fun!! Please send me more!! Also I’m down for some feedback.

[starkerforlife6969]

irondad, spiderson fluff

Peter hates hide and seek.

Tony only tries to play it once, but then his little three year old toddles up to him- chubby little face all streaked red with tears- and grabs onto Tony’s collar with all the despair of someone who’s recently lost a loved one. “Daddy!” He screeches, as Tony lifts him up onto his chest and lavishes him with kisses and strokes his curly hair. “I-I couldn’t find you! You were gone!” He wails.

Tony chuckles, sympathetic and fond, as he coos at his little baby. “We were playing hide-and-seek, bud,” he reminds, “that’s the point, I was hiding and-“

“No!” Peter bawls again, nuzzling into Tony’s neck like a cat, “no! I don’t like this game! I don’t wanna play!”

Tony wipes his tiny face, and pecks his cheeks. “We won’t play it again,” he promises, singing to Peter in Italian until the boy calms down.

*** “Dad,” Peter whispers, and Tony feels the blood run out of him. His face drains, and he turns in horror and denial, to see his son trembling.

“No,” he hisses, already striding over, wrapping his boy up in his arms. Fifteen. Peter is fifteen. Tony can’t- it won’t-

“Dad,” Peter croaks out again, and he’s crying, and Tony holds him tighter, and turns to Strange with venom on his lips- only to see the wizard start to disappear.

“Tony,” Strange promises, “it was the only way.”

“Bullshit.” Tony screams, but his son is clutching at him, and Tony can’t think. He can’t hear over the roaring in his ears.

“I don’t, I don’t feel so good, dad,” Peter trembles, and Tony lowers them both to the ground, shaking his head.

“You’re okay,” he repeats, “you’re okay, you’re gonna be fine, Petey-pie, I’ve got you, bambino”

A tear rolls down Peter’s cheek into the sandy dirt. He looks up and smiles. He can see through his father’s lie. Tony sobs. “I’m sorry,” Peter whispers, and Tony shakes his head- even as his world crumbles into dust beneath him.

*** He blasts Steve so hard that the super soldier singes his chest, but Steve doesn’t say a word.

None of them do.

Tony can’t look at them without thinking why are you here? Why are you here but Peter isn’t? Why am I here?

He finds himself going to his son’s bedroom, and seeing half-finished homework assignments and lego strewn all over the floor.

He sits on the bed and he cries.

*** The sun streaks the sky like samfire, and Tony looks up at the horizon and remembers his pudgy little five year old, following his dad around with big wide eyes and repeating why? why? why? He remembers DUM-E and Peter almost setting the kitchen on fire.

He remembers his three year old crying when he couldn’t find his dad.

He looks up at the sky and he clenches his fists and whispers, “I’m gonna find you, baby.”

Thor comes and sits beside him on the crumbling brimstone. “I have lost everything,” Thor says in his deep, broken voice. “My mother. My father. My brother. My best friend. My home. I will not stop until I have killed Thanos.”

Tony turns to look up at him, and hardens with alliance. “Me too.” He vows.

Thor smiles, but there’s no humour in it.

***

On the battlefield, they’re losing.

But Tony doesn’t care.

If they can’t get those stones, Thanos will just do it all over again and-

“Dad! Dad!” Someone is yelling across the blood-soaked land.

It’s like a little lamb bleating, and Tony follows it wildly, eyes desperately searching the fighters on all sides-

until he sees his boy.

Peter flings himself at him, and Tony holds him tight enough to bruise. It’s been three years. He cards his fingers through those fluffy brown curls, pulls back to search his son’s skin for any hurt- to search his eyes for any sadness-

“Old man,” Peter teases, eyes wet with tears, “you’re going grey.”

“Smart-ass,” Tony whispers, pulling him back in for a hug. For the first time in three years, he feels like he can breathe. 

He’s never going to let him go.

Which is why, when he gets the gauntlet, he knows he’ll have to put it on.

He won’t let Peter go again. Even if that means-

A thwip and then the gauntlet is gone, and Peter has it.

Tony feels his stomach lurch. “What the hell are you doing?!” He yells, and Peter looks at him: distraught.

“You were gonna put it on! It’ll kill you!”

“I have to!”

Thanos lets out a roar, overpowering the others holding him down-

“Peter,” Tony cries, “give it to me-“

“I won’t lose you!” Peter sobs, and then he’s- he’s putting his hand in it-

Tony can’t. He fires his propulsters and Peter is blasted backwards, losing his grip on the stones as the glove lands on the ground with a smack. Tony flies over, and picks it up. Peter looks up at him in betrayal-

“Dad,” he chokes, “Daddy, don’t-“

“Peter,” Tony shakes his head, he can’t bear it, he doesn’t know what to do, he- “I-“

Nebula snatches the gauntlet, puts it on, and snaps her fingers.

*** Peter makes lasagne for dinner, and they eat it in the lab.

It’s getting back to normal.

They cherish each other.

Tony’s almost overwhelmingly over-protective. He hovers close by all the time, watching Peter like a hawk. Doesn’t like it when he’s out of his sight.

But Peter doesn’t mind.

He likes to stay close by, and watch old movies with his dad, and they adopt a cat and DUM-E is scared of it.

“I love you,” Tony whispers, ruffling Peter’s hair, and Peter beams-

“I love you too, dad. One day I might even forgive you for almost sacrificing yourself.”

Tony smiles softly, “anything to keep you safe.”

Peter ducks his head, “ditto.”

*** “There are other games.” His three year old says eagerly, “we can play other games!”

“True,” Tony grins, setting him down on couch and tickling his sides so Peter kicks his legs in delight. “What did you have in mind?”

“Ummm…we could play um…” he scrunches his nose thoughtfully, “we could play tea-parties!”

Tony snorts, but less than two minutes later, he’s sitting at a table drinking make-believe tea, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[brawltogethernow]

Three Graves

Peter gets cleaned up and settles his resolution to reach out to MJ before visiting Gwen. After all, you want to look your best for important people.

"'Cause you're worth it, Gwendy," he says, setting down a takeout cup of coffee the way she liked it against the base of her headstone and sinking to sit criss-crossed in front of it cradling his own. A weak shield against the New Year's cold.

It's been just warm enough just long enough to sweep the earth in the cemetery clean of the usual frozen-puddles-and-slush cocktail and uncover the winter-dormant grass. Just a reminder of the promise of the end of winter. But it's still not exactly picnic weather, so Peter's alone with the Stacy family.

"So I've been on kind of a jaunt," he says. "Helped me get my head in order. I know, I know, it's about time." He bows his head and shuts his eyes, and for a second he's one stone-still silhouette on the slight slope of hill with all the others.

Then he throws his head back and huffs, blinking up at the clear blue sky. "So I came to fill you in. I know you'd want to know."

He drags the heel of one hand across the corner of his eye. "After all, it's about you."

He puts his untouched coffee down too fast, then catches it with one spindly finger when it starts to overbalance and rights it. "I met these people, Gwen, and one of them... Let me start over. I've always been in this alone. Sorry, I shouldn't say things like that when I know you can't hit me. I know I had you. And the others. But this was -- this is different."

He takes a deep draft of the coffee. "Weirder, mostly."

_∩∩∩_

Gwen sits down in front of Peter's grave, folding into a tailor's seat in a graceful ballet movement.

"Hey," she says, and reaches out and knocks her knuckles against the headstone. A one-sided fist bump.

She folds the arm back against herself, tugging her hoodie sleeves over her hands, and sits there silently for a while, curled up in a hunch. The world is statue-hard and all-over glittery with frost, and steam curls up when she exhales. She's wearing most of her suit underneath exercise clothes, and the cold seems to bite harder where its insulation doesn't cover her at her face and hands.

She's out of practice talking to people, and Peter was always the one who would say something to get the conversation going anyway.

"I have had a week," she says at last. "You'd have liked it." She thinks of the older Peter, scowling and looking exasperated. "Okay, maybe you'd have hated it."

She sighs and touches the stone again, pressing her hand flat against it. It hurts, the rock hungrily leeching the warmth out of her body.

"I'm trying the whole friend thing again," she says. "I don't know what you would have -- I know neither of us ever really liked people, so maybe you wouldn't think I should. But you also seemed better at knowing what was best for me than what you needed for yourself, so maybe you would have thought it was a good idea. Because I'm pretty sure this is -- best. For me. That is." She snorts. "I was better at you than me, too."

She pulls her hand back and rubs it against her knee, trying to force warmth back into it. With her augmented metabolism, her whitened fingers flush hot again faster than they should. "I definitely still prefer problems you can solve with hitting something. Or by breaking and entering. ...That doesn't mean it's obvious I was going to have to let people in eventually, though! I was completely planning to never address my own feelings again. So take that." She points at Peter's name, taps it lightly between the R and the second P with her fingertip, then pulls her arm close again, hugging it to herself. She sighs. "Maybe you'd think I was dumb for taking this long. I dunno. But Peter, the friend I made? I know you would have liked him. Whether you wanted to or not."

_∩∩∩_

Footsteps appear in the deep slush in front of Peter Parker's headstone. After a moment, an eye-baffling haze above them shivers and resolves into a boy in a hoodie.

Miles hunches into his civvies against the cold and looks around, head sweeping back and forth. Once he's sure he's alone, he tips his face down to face the grave. He stands there a moment, neck bent, hands in his jacket pockets.

The tokens people left that he recognizes from the last time he was here are starting to look kind of battered and sad, but most of them have been cleared out and replaced by a crop of new ones. It's a mosaic of red and blue and webs, because even if it didn't occur to most of them until it was too late to say it, New York loved Spider-Man.

"Hey," Miles says. "I'm back."

He shifts his feet a little to try to get cold water to stop seeping into his shoes. This agitates some stealthy puddle and soaks them worse.

"Man," he says to the headstone. "I cannot stop myself from looking around when I try using my spidey sense to check for people on purpose. I mean, with my eyes." He tugs his hands out of his pockets to raise them up to his face and demonstrates with wiggly finger motions, one hand in front of his eyeballs and one beside his head. "Did you get that? I know I don't need to, but I just can't shake it. I mean -- yet. I can't shake it yet. This whole Spider-Man thing is kind of a process."

There were a few inches of white fluffy snow the other day, so within hours it was like a massive slushee had been upended in every shallow dip or half-protected corner in the city. With all the foot traffic this place gets, the ground here is like half-frozen mud soup.

"But you know that."

He holds out one hand, staring at the palm of his glove for inspiration. "So hey, uh. I know I was kind of weird when I was here last time?" He puts the hand on the back of his neck, eyes peeling upward sheepishly. "I recognize now that coming here in a party store version of your costume was a little weird. Nobody ever saw my face, though! So I guess it worked out like I wanted it to?"

A big shrug, hands windmilling. "You know, except the other Spiders. I figure that's okay, though. Man, I wish you could have met them."

His shoulders slump, and he feels his eyes prickling. He huffs a fortifying breath, fast in and out. "But anyway. You know how I said I didn't think I could do this last time? It totally worked out. I'm Spider-Man now. I'm pretty sure you wouldn't mind. ...It turns out there are a lot of us.

“And Peter -- the other one, I mean. I mean, one of the other ones. He taught me some things, and-- I wish I'd gotten to learn more from you, but he was okay." He shifts his weight. Even more ice water floods into his shoes. "He was great actually. I don't need to pretend not to like him as much as I do when he's not even here. I...really hope I get to see him again someday. ...I don't know if you would have turned out like him, but -- it would have been okay if you did. You would have been okay, I mean."

The grave is silent. Somewhere nearby there’s the sound of snowmelt dripping.

"We took care of the collider!" says Miles. "Brooklyn did not get eaten by a black hole. ...Mm, mostly. Some of it still looks kinda weird. Though, now I know you're from Queens, so technically we're feuding a little and you should watch yourself." He goes for a chuckle, but it comes out kind of wet.

"And the--" He pauses, and when he speaks again his voice is less froggy. "And Kingpin is in FBI custody. And everybody else who helped him is too, or. Gone." Uncle Aaron. "...Dead." He hasn't visited Uncle Aaron's grave alone yet, but he's okay working on the mural for now.

He raises his head, blinking hard. "I wish--" His voice cuts off and he looks down, and when he looks up again his eyes aren't as tear-bright.

"Thank you, Peter."

_∩∩∩_

Peter hears her heels before anything else, click click, and then MJ is a warm weight settling against him.

"I thought you'd be here," she says.

"Am I that obvious?"

She elbows him without looking over. "No, I just know you." She reaches out and traces a finger over Gwen's name. "Hiya, Gwendy. Did Petey-o tell you his crazy story yet? Make sure he doesn't leave out the part where his alternate self was a successful blond. I guess you really do have more fun."

"Hey," says Peter, with automatic faux offense. Mary Jane's bundled up in a big ochre parka over a bunch of sweaters. He thinks about how his Mary Jane owns the same smart, lush ensemble the other MJ gave her press conference in, folded up in different parts of her closet.

"He wasn't successful," Peter says. "I'm just old."

"Are you calling me old?" MJ says.

"If the shoe fits," says Peter.

MJ whaps him on the arm.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," says Peter, laughing. "No, no, you're a whole year younger than me. Clearly you walk in eternal youth."

MJ settles against him again. "Nah, it's okay," she says. "We're both old. Geriatric."

"What does that make Jonah?" asks Peter. "Commander of the skeleton war?"

"Mister Parker, was that a meme?" asks MJ, faux-scandalized. "Don't make me kids-these-days at you."

"What does that even mean?"

"I'd shake my cane and accuse you of eating too many avocados."

"Ugh, I feel like that's a meme," says Peter. "But I don't understand it."

"Do you not read the news?"

"The news only ever wants to yell about how terrible I am at me."

"When you extricated yourself from all our shared newspaper subscriptions -- you didn't replace them with any new ones, did you. You've basically been living in a box."

"Uh."

"I shouldn't have asked you to do that," she says. "I'm buying you an online Times account if you won't log back into mine." She turns to the grave. "We're a mess without you, as you can see," she tells it.

"Always," says Peter. "But we're doing alright."

They sit there silently for a minute, leaning on each other.

MJ reaches out and lifts up Gwen's cup. "I'm stealing some of your coffee, doll. Not like you don't still owe me a thousand sips of mine." She takes a draft, the liquid cooled from being on the ground, then makes a face. "I forgot she liked mint."

"I think she might have started liking it as a preemptive defense against you paying her back for always stealing from yours."

"Get her caramel next time. We both like caramel."

_∩∩∩_

Gwen hears footsteps crunching the grass behind her and twists around, rising into a crouch in a fluid spin.

It's Mary Jane, huddled in a huge yellow coat. She's wearing her chunky-knit fingerless gloves, the oatmeal ones, and boots over leggings, like she's daring the cold to even try it.

"Thought you'd be here," she says, closing the rest of the distance so she's beside Gwen as Gwen straightens the rest of the way. At Gwen's surprised incredulous look, the other girl snorts. "What, you think I don't know you that well yet? We're friends, aren't we?"

"...Yeah," says Gwen, fighting not to look like that's as much of a revelation as it is.

MJ hooks an arm with Gwen's, beaming showily, pleased with this victory. "Well, your little friend here is more observant than you give her credit for." She reaches out and boops Gwen on the nose. Gwen jumps, even though her spider sense warned her. It tickles.

MJ turns to face Peter's grave, and the grin slides off her face. The look it leaves behind is -- oddly muted. MJ is a very loud person, in Gwen's experience of her. About everything, all the time. Her outfit choices are loud. Her silent facial expressions are loud. Her singing is really loud, like she's got some stuff to work out. Sometimes their practices feel like MJ and Gwen are just fighting to drown each other out. They feel dangerous, like if one of them ever can't keep escalating, the other's sound will sweep her away. And then the other girls have to roar along to keep up.

Their recordings end up pretty noisy.

"I think I'd have liked to have met him," MJ says, very softly. There's nothing particular in the statement, and Gwen is suddenly aware she has no idea how to read MJ when she's not telegraphing her emotions at top volume and full saturation for the benefit all of New York.

Gwen thinks about four Peters, two married to Mary Janes. "Yeah, probably," she allows.

MJ sighs and reaches out the arm not linked with Gwen's. She rests her hand on the top of Peter's headstone, making a chain of three links. Gwen, MJ, grave.

"Hi, Peter," says MJ, her always bell-like voice chiming more mellifluously than ever. Like she's trying to charm someone new. "Thanks for taking care of this girl when I couldn't, yeah?"

Then she takes her hand away, breaking the spell, and starts to tug Gwen away by their linked arms. Gwen lets the taller girl pull her away. It would be pretty suspicious for her to stay as still as she could, even if part of her just wants to anchor herself here like a statue until sunset. Be still with him for a while.

"Come on, hun," says MJ. "That's enough gabbing with the dead. Let's gather the other girls: We can have breakfast before practice."

Gwen stumbles as they hit the path. "Wait, there's practice today? It's Thursday?"

MJ stares at her as she pauses to give Gwen a chance to get upright. "It's Tuesday practice, Gwen. Man, you're bad with dates, aren't you?"

"Hey, I've been --" Stuck in another dimension, time traveling. "Busy with stuff."

MJ quirks one eyebrow at her, the twinkle in her eyes and the press of her half-smile telegraphing 'are you serious?' at Gwen so clearly that for a split second Gwen is sure MJ knows.

But Mary Jane just rolls her eyes and tugs Gwen along more insistently.

"Breakfast sounds nice," Gwen allows.

"Are you plotting to steal from my coffee again?"

Gwen hums noncommittally.

"Gw-e-n!" MJ protests. "I will buy you your own coffee! I do not understand why you're always on the hunt for sips of mine!"

"Stolen food just tastes better," says Gwen. "It's science."

"You're a menace, Gwen-do-lyn," says MJ. "I know your secret identity--"

Gwen jumps.

"--as a filthy coffee thief."

"C-caught me," stutters Gwen.

"Yeah I did," says MJ quietly.

"What?"

"Hm, nothing."

And Gwen lets Mary Jane pull her out of the graveyard and out toward their friends.

_∩∩∩_

Miles' spidey sense tells him someone's behind him before he hears them, and he spins around, part of him half expecting a repeat of last time he got crept up on here.

Close, but wrong Parker. It's May, picking her way carefully through the frozen slush. She looks up only after he's flinched his hands up defensively and then dropped them again.

"Oh, Miles!" she says. "I wasn't expecting you here."

She stops once she's beside him, and sighs. "I just thought, now that the crowds have mostly thinned out, it would be a good time to talk to him. Guess we both had the same idea, huh?" She looks around like she doesn't quite want to look at her nephew's grave, the twists of her head stopping when she's facing the church. "This place is so famous. It's so strange that Peter is buried here."

She finally looks down at the bedecked headstone. "I always thought me and him and Ben would all end up in the same place. But, well, Jonah was crying and -- I think it makes people feel better."

Miles remembers something Peter -- janky, old Peter -- said. "Are you guys Jewish too?"

May looks at him strangely, but must not need to ask who 'too' refers to, because she just flickers a quick shrug. "Ben was. I thought about converting when we got married, but his family was never that traditional, so I never got around to it. But that doesn't mean it wasn't important to them."

Miles reaches out and raps his fingers extra lightly on a Roman cross cropping up from the top of a headstone. He then immediately feels bad, and pats it gingerly as he says, "Then this must be extra weird."

May smiles.

She puts a hand on his shoulder, thin but strong. "He'd be proud, you know."

"Yeah." Miles gives the marker one last nod as he turns to go. "I know."

*

[AO3]

[ladyshandioftheendless]

~KISS AU writings 19~

The drama’s coming back full force!

~Shandi

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~MODEL AU Part 6~

Featured Pairing: Bruce Kulick/Paul Stanley

Special Guests: Mick Mars, Vince Neil

Summary: After going for days without working, Bruce finally gets a job offer from a surprising source. (told from Bruce’s POV)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’d like to be alone for a while..” 

I look at Paul concerned as we pull up to his apartment. “A-are you sure?” He nods. “I need to take some time to think about things. From here on out Petey’s got us on probation. One slip up and we’re done for. We have to tread very carefully now.” That was definitely worrying. “Yeah..I understand. But..if you need to talk you can call me. You have my number.” He smiles at me, and I can tell it’s a genuine one. “Thanks, I’ll do that~” We switch seats and he drives me back to my apartment. Before I get out of the car I lean close to him, turning his face toward mine to kiss his lips. He’s definitely surprised but he doesn’t pull away. I’d hoped he wouldn’t. “Well then..if I don’t see you sooner I’ll see you for the next job I suppose.” Still too shocked to speak, he just nods in response. I wave to him and shut the door. It was a lot more fun that I expected it to be catching him off guard this time~ 

I wait patiently for a call for my next job, but one never comes. After a few days pass I start getting worried. It sure seems to me like Mr. Criss is punishing both of us for that stupid party incident. I don’t blame Paul of course. Everybody loses their temper sometimes. In Paul’s case it must have happened one too many times. I was starting to wonder if we actually still had jobs. When my phone finally does ring I jump about a foot in the air. Thank God! I pick up before it can ring a second time. “Hello?” 

“Is this Bruce Kulick?”

That’s..not Mr. Criss’ voice. “Yes? Who is this?” 

“This’s Mick Mars. I’m sure you remember me. I got a job for ya. Interested?”

I can’t believe my ears. Vince Neil’s agent is calling me. Haven’t these people ever heard of ‘conflict of interest’? “I’m not sure if I should, Mr. Mars..considering what happened..”

“It’s water under the bridge. Nobody even remembers anymore. I know you’re not officially on Catwalk’s payroll. You’re pretty much freelance. I wouldn’t have called ya if that weren’t the case.” 

Shit. He had a point. And a job is a job..no matter how much I don’t like who I’m working for. “Alright..what does this job involve?” 

“We got a fashion show coming up Friday night. I need photos. Good photos. How about it?” 

A fashion show, huh? Sounds simple enough. At least in a crowd of people I can keep the interactions between Vince and myself to a minimum. “Truthfully I don’t really have much of a choice. I haven’t done any photo work in almost a week. I’ll take it.” 

“Perfect~ The show’s at Sunset Theater. 51 Lincoln Boulevard in Santa Monica. Get there by 5:00.”

“Got it. I’ll see you then.” 

After I hang up I take a deep breath. Oh boy this whole situation is just screaming ‘deep trouble.’ But I need the work. All I can do is hope that I’m up to it..and that it doesn’t hurt Paul in the process. 

Friday afternoon I get a call while I’m packing up my equipment. I don’t want to be insensitive but I don’t have a lot of time to waste on the phone. I’m hoping I can keep it short. “Hello?” 

“Hey, Photopup it’s me~” 

Oh no. I was afraid of this. “Hey, Paul. How are you?” 

“Doing better. I found myself missing you so I thought I’d call. Can you come over?” 

I’m immediately overcome with guilt. “I-I’m sorry, Paul I wish I could..but I have a job to get to.” 

“Oh really? I hope they don’t think they can snatch you away from me~ What kind of job is it?” 

I don’t want to lie..but I feel like if I even mention Vince’s name he’ll freak out. “Taking photos for a fashion show.” 

“Ohhh I’m so jealous! I wish I could go..I haven’t been to a fashion show in months! Will you take some good photos just for me~?” 

I laugh. “Sure I can. If you don’t like them you have my permission to burn them~” It’s great to hear him laugh too.

“Believe me I am extremely picky about my fashion~ I’ll be sure to keep a pack of matches handy~” 

“Heck I might just help you~ How about I call you when I get home?” 

“I’d like that~”

“I’ll talk to you later tonight then..whenever that is.”

“I’ll be waiting~” 

I feel terrible about keeping the truth from him, but in this case I really think it’s for his own good. He has enough stress already. As I pack my cases into my car I pray that this night won’t become a total disaster. 

I’ve never been to a fashion show before. I have no idea what to expect. As I pass by the theater to pull into the parking lot I see the front on the building is packed with people. I hope I don’t have to try to get through there cause there’s no damn way. Getting out of my car with my cases I see Mr. Mars standing by a side entrance. When he sees me he waves to me. I wave back and hurry over to him. “Made good time.” he says, patting my shoulder. “Follow me. I’ll show you where you can set up.” He leads me down the hall where all the dressing rooms are. Everything the models are wearing screams ‘Vince Neil’. right down to their bleached blond wigs.  “Is..Vince going to be in the show, Mr. Mars?” He shrugs. “I dunno. He’s been known to make an appearance on the runway when the mood strikes him. Depends on if he has time. This is his show after all.” My eyes widen. “His show? He’s a model and a fashion designer?” 

“That’s right. He’s showin’ off his new summer line. If he does go out there make sure you get some photos. You can relax. He doesn’t know it’s you behind the camera.” That is absolutely a relief. “I appreciate that. I promise you’ll get my best.” Mr. Mars shows me to an area with a perfect view of the runway stage. “I got no doubts about that. When the show’s over you can just go on home and I’ll call ya Monday. Happy shooting, kid~” I hurry to set up before the lights go out. I’m already enjoying the rush of adrenaline I’m getting from the anticipation. I’ve missed that feeling~ When the show starts I look through the camera lens at the stage. Loud cheers erupt when the first of the models walks out. Vince certainly has a..unique sense of fashion. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much pink, spandex and lace in all my life. And those wigs make them all look ridiculous. But the crowd is going crazy for it so what do I know? Towards the end of the show came the moment I was admittedly dreading. Vince himself walks down the runway..and even I have to admit that he looks hot as hell. He’s dressed in a white lace asymmetrical off the shoulder top, pink spandex and white lace leggings and pink boots, with white gloves, rhinestone studded suspenders, bracelet and collar, a pink scarf wrapped around his neck and a white lace garter belt around his hips. The crowd goes wild for him and gives him a standing ovation while he smiles, waves and blows kisses at them. The cheers die down when he’s given a microphone. 

“I want to thank everyone personally for coming here tonight! Seeing all of you out there loving me so deeply gets me all hot and bothered~ Decadence will be in all the biggest fashion stores this summer and I know you want it!!”  

The crowd roars again. Vince stands there with his arms stretched out and just soaks in all of their admiration like a sponge. When people aren’t blocking I take a few shots of him just for the hell of it. I’m sure he’d want pictures of himself. For the finale he brings all of his models back out onto the stage. The perfect opportunity to grab some wide shots. I’m sure Mr. Mars will like these~ Once the show winds down and everyone is getting up to leave I pack up my equipment and head back to my car. I didn’t think I’d enjoy the show but I honestly did. I wouldn’t mind doing more jobs like that~ While I’m packing my trunk I think about how much fun it will be to develop the photos.

“You know..Mick’s smart and all but he can’t hide as much form me as he thinks he can~” 

I turn to see Vince standing beside me. There’s a mischievous look in his eyes that I instantly don’t like. Shit. I guess I didn’t make as clean a getaway as I thought..

To be Continued!!

[captainkirkmccoy]

Can I request a Pepperony with adopted Peter family hurt/comfort moment in a survival situation without powers or Iron Man? :D

Happiness looked like this: 

A packed car full of just enough presents to let only the smallest back window view, bundled up in under so many layers that Pepper deemed suitable, music a cheery holiday mashup of Peter’s favorites and the ones that Tony and Pepper grew up on. 

“Are we there yet?” Eight-year-old Peter squeaked from the backseat where a Starkpad kept him entertained. 

Tony gave a quick tap on the steering wheel, barking a laugh. “Why thank you child of mine. Pep pay up.” 

Pepper rolled her eyes. “I never agreed to this bet, Tony.”

“You wouldn’t let us fly upstate, honey. I had to come up with something.”

“Daddy deserves a cookie, mommy.” The kid in the backseat asked. 

Tony’s eyes immediately went to the rearview mirror where Peter, his kid of a year and six months now, continued playing the game unaware of the paradigm shift he just launched in the car. 

A quick look at Pepper found her with pursed lips and bright eyes. Wordlessly, she passed a sugar cookie–made with the exuberance of aforementioned nine-year-old in the backseat. 

Daddy. He was a daddy now. 

He reached over and gripped his wife’s hand. This was what happy looked like. 

***

“DADDY!”

Tony had the worst hangover imaginable. Worse than the morning after his only failed exam at MIT. Worse than his parent’s wake. 

“Tony.” Pepper rasped. 

His eyes shot open. 

“Peter.” Tony jolted up, but gentle hands forced him back down. 

“Thank god. Peter, sweetheart, hand me that towel, okay?” 

Something wet and soft covered his forehead. God, he was thirsty. 

“Mommy?” Peter whispered, his blurry form coming into focus next to Pepper. A gash split her eyebrow, dirt smeared across her chin, and dark circles hollowed out the skin underneath her eyes. 

“Pepper–how bad?” He tried to sit up again and this time his wife helped, gently cupping the back of his head as he lifted himself. 

The world spun–his vision taking in a cabin, spartan and dusty before he was forced to screw his eyes shut. 

“Car accident. Your leg’s broken. You’ve been out of it for about a day. We’re snowed in. We found this cabin before you passed out.” It came out in a rush, as if she had been desperate to let the words flow.

“Are you okay?” Tony sat up again, vertigo be damned. “Peter?”

“Not a scratch, thank God. And I’m fine, just a bump.” She gave him a watery smile before kissing his cheek, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “Tony, I was so worried.”

“No service, I’d gather?”

“StarkPad broke in the crash. No service. I haven’t been able to leave Peter.”

“Car should have registered the crash.” Tony winced as he sat up. “Hey buddy. You okay?”

Peter, glued to Pepper’s side until this point, threw himself at Tony, big gulping sobs wracking his body with such force that the both of them shook. 

“Oh, sweetheart. It’s okay. We’re okay.”

“I thought.” Peter’s breath hitched so that Tony had to tap gently on his back. “You left me.”

“No, baby. Never.” Tony rubbed his son’s back with the gentle circles he remembers from his own childhood. 

***

Two days later found the Starks playing a game of Sorry while wind battered the windows of their found cabin. Tony had lost the fight that may have granted him the opportunity to drag himself how many miles to civilization. Pepper threatened divorce if Tony even considered it again and Peter was so clingy that Tony could only hobble to the bathroom alone. 

When Peter tired himself out and passed out on the couch they had been using as his bed–Tony and Pepper worried. 

Food was running out. Pepper had depleted the cookies on the first day, feeding Peter a steady stream of cookies to keep him distracted from the worrying fact that Tony was unconscious. The provisions that they had packed and that Pepper had salvaged from their wrecked car–trail mix, beef jerky, Cheerios, goldfish, mostly road trip food that Tony insisted on as they drove from the city to Clint’s farm–was dwindling fast. 

The snow was not. 

“I’ll go.”

“Hell no.”

“We don’t have another choice.”

“Yeah, we do. I can fashion myself a crutch and be on my merry way.”

“And when Peter wakes up and you’re gone?”

“Tell him I went to get help. Help we desperately need.”

Pepper rubbed at her eyes. She was exhausted and Tony was worried about the cut on her forehead, though she insisted she was fine. 

“Let’s just go to sleep, babe, okay? Maybe it’ll let up in the morning and I can at least head to the car, see if I can wire up something for the tablet.”

They fell asleep the only way they could, curled up with each other as the storm raged on beyond the wooden and brick walls of their cabin. 

When they woke up, Peter was gone. 

***

The thing about happiness, Tony realized with a nightmare quickness, was how quick it disappeared. 

Pepper’s voice choked around a gasping cry. “Please, Peter! Peter!”

Tony dragged his useless foot as he screamed and pleaded, his voice going hoarse, swallowed by the wind again and again. 

Their kid was gone. Disappeared while they slept. His jacket, his bookbag, gloves and hat and winter shoes, all gone. 

“He must have heard us.” Pepper said, slogging through the snow, now up to her knees. “He must have tried to get help.”

Tony’s cheeks were numb. Snot was frozen in his nostrils, his eyes were starting to glaze over. “Peter Peter Peter,” he chanted. Pepper punctuating his pleas with calls of her own. 

“What do we do? God, Tony, what do we do?”

Their baby could be freezing to death a few feet from them and they wouldn’t know. He could be stuck and cold and alone. 

For the first time in his life, Tony was struck by such helplessness that he wished for nothingness. He wished he couldn’t feel anything. The panic rose from somewhere in his gut and he forced it back down. 

“PETER!”

“Petey, baby, mommy and daddy need you!” Pepper yelled. 

And then they found the car. 

Their family car, the one he traded up for, the one that solidified again that he was a dad now, was a heap of glass and twisted metal. And in the backseat, like he had never left, was their son. 

Pepper let out a strangled scream and rushed the car, pushing aside the detritus of the wreck, ignoring Tony’s own mad rush to get there as fast as possible. 

“Peter, sweetheart! Peter!”

Pepper curled herself around the nine-year-old, rocking him and kissing his forehead, pushing back his curly bangs, rubbing his hands and fingers. 

“God, Tony, he’s so cold.”

Somehow, with a strength he didn’t know was possible, he carried both Pepper and Peter out of the car. They hobbled as quickly as possible to the cabin, Pepper trying to coax Peter awake. 

***

They used the gameboard and books as kindling, setting a blazing fire as quickly as possible and piling together as closely as possible under rugs and blankets on the hearth.  

“Mama?” Peter woke, his words nearly swallowed by Pepper’s shoulder, where he was cradled against. 

“Shh, baby. We’re okay.”

“Daddy, Uncle Clint said he was on his way.”

Pepper and Tony’s eyes shot to each others. 

“Clever boy.” Tony kissed his son’s forehead and extracted himself to go take a look at the car. 

***

The gifted kid program Tony and Pepper had signed Peter up for at the school’s urging when they first adopted him paid off. 

Peter had used the radio and the StarkPad, what was left of it, to create a radio. Something Tony hadn’t even thought to do. 

“I’m so sorry.” Tony whispered into his wife’s hair as they were airlifted out of the woods of Upstate New York and to the helipad of a local hospital. “I should have gotten us out sooner.”

“You didn’t have to. Peter got us out.” Pepper whispered, pride making her voice swell. 

“He did.” Tony huffed, shaking his head as he realized the entirety of his luck and was so grateful for it and this family that he had made. “Our kid.” 

[spooderboyandtincan]

tonystank and bananaboy

TW: Tony and Peter are playing Among Us, and there’s a pretty graphic scene where a character gets killed but it’s pretty brief! So please be careful and look out for that! 

Or: Read on Ao3!

~~~~~

“It’s snowing! Mr. Stark, it’s snowing!” Peter cried, spinning around with a gleam in his chocolate brown eyes. 

Tony looked up from the tray of cookies he had just pulled out of the oven and smiled. He pulled off the oven mits and walked over to stand with his kid at the big window in the living room. “Wow.”

Large, sparkling snowflakes were falling peacefully against the dark sky, illuminated by the bright lights of the city. Peter watched them dance down with wonder in his eyes, his breath fogging on the icy glass. 

He shivered and sniffed, reaching to rub his nose and then leaning into Tony’s arms. “We should do something,” he mumbled.

Tony hummed. “Like what?” He combed his fingers through Peter’s hair, still tranquilly watching the snowfall.

“Play a game?” he suggested. “I dunno.” He looked back out the window, his eyebrows furrowed as if deep in thought. 

Peter’s eyes suddenly lit up and he broke from the man’s hold. “We can play Among Us! I’ll teach you!” He pulled his phone from his sweatshirt pocket, a wide grin on his face.

“Sounds like a plan.” Tony smiled fondly at him. They both hopped onto the couch. Peter unceremoniously grabbed Tony’s phone and tapped around on it.

“Whatcha doin’ kiddo?” Tony asked. Peter raised his eyebrows and hid the screen from him.

“You hafta download the game to play it,” he quipped.

“Aha.” Tony laughed and ruffled his hair. 

“Okay, so I’ll host a game and you can join,” Peter said. “I always do three imposters, ‘cause then you’re more likely to be one and it’s more fun.” “Okay.” Peter read off the code, and when Tony’s little red character appeared on his screen, he beamed. He turned the game to public and started dancing around Tony.

“Wait. Wait. Why is my name tonystank?!” 

Peter giggled. “Wasn’t me.” Though in fact, of course it had been him.

“Sure it wasn’t, bananaboy,” Tony teased, reading Peter’s character’s name off the screen. Peter snorted. 

“Hey, we’re Iron Man colors!” the boy realized suddenly.

Tony smiled. “Good. There’s no better combo.”

“Um, obviously the best colors are red and blue,” he declared in an exaggeratedly teasing tone. He bounced over to the menu and changed his color to dark blue. 

“How could you?” Tony gasped, clutching a hand to his chest in mock heartbreak. “I’m wounded, kiddo. Wounded.” Peter snorted and rolled his eyes, and Tony reached out to ruffle his hair. 

“Now we have to wait for people to come, though. It’s kinda boring.” Just a few seconds later, he let out a happy exclamation when someone joined, and Tony felt a familiar warmth bloom and spread through his chest. 

Peter curled up on the opposite side of the couch and clicked the start button once they had ten players. Tony tried to peek at his screen, but he giggled and pushed him away with his foot.

“Okay, wait, wait, what do I do?” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Where do I go?” 

“Oh!” Peter leaned over to look at his phone, always so adorably eager to help. “Okay, so you have a task in admin, so you wanna go over here. Oh, um, so this one’s easy, you click this-” he reached over to click the download button “-and then it downloads!”

“Got it.” He nodded seriously. “‘Kay, so what do I do here?” He showed the screen to his kid. 

“Oh, you just blast the asteroids out of the sky. I really like that one.”

After Peter walked him through a few more tasks and his initial confusion disappeared, Tony found himself enjoying the game immensely. 

When he got to electrical to do his tasks, he gasped. “There’s a body!”

“What?! Where?!” Peter’s chocolate eyes were as wide as dinner plates. “Did you see anyone?!”

Tony hit the report button. “No, nobody was there!”

“Hmm.” Peter worried his lip. “I’m gonna skip voting.”

“Yeah, we probably don’t have enough evidence,” he agreed. “How do you skip?” 

“Uh, click the ‘skip vote’ button.” Peter strained to reach his phone. “And just hit the, um, the checkmark.” He leaned back, grinning, and scrolled through the chat. 

The voting results came in, and Peter smiled. “At least no one voted for us!” 

“What happens if you get a vote?” Tony asked, squeezing the boy’s foot.

“Well, if you get enough votes then you get ejected and then you get to be a ghost. I like being dead because you can go through walls.” He laughed at himself, his eyes still glued to his phone. “Once like everyone voted me out and it was really sad ‘cause I wasn’t even the imposter.”

Tony laughed and clicked his tongue. “Shame on them.”

Peter snorted. “It wasn’t their fault! I was standing right by the body.”

Tony smiled. “I have a task in... Medbay,” he said, squinting at his screen. “Jeez, this text is tiny.”

“Hey, me too! I’ll come with you!” He found Tony’s little bean character circling the medbay. “Hi!” Peter paused to tuck a curl behind his ear. 

“Hey there, Mister Parker.” Tony smiled. “Alrighty. I have to scan. Share your wisdom and knowledge, Petey?” 

“Just step on the scanner thing!” Peter instructed, watching him with his big bambi eyes.

“I’m three foot six?!” Tony exclaimed. “Wow. Are you sure they didn’t scan you by mistake?” 

Peter glared at him but he had to laugh. Mischief sparked in his eyes, but Tony didn’t seem to notice. 

“What task do you have, bud?” He found it a little odd that Peter had just been hovering by a bed; he hadn’t thought there was a task there.

Peter’s blue character bounced up to him. And then-

His phone flashed red, and bananaboy’s gloved hands snapped tonystank’s non-existent neck. (They were weird little bean creatures, they didn’t have necks.)

The screen turned black, and the three imposters appeared on the screen, illuminated by an ominous red glow. 

Tony’s eyes widened, and ever so slowly, he turned his head to face Peter, who was struggling to keep in his laughter. High-pitched giggles escaped from his mouth and he grabbed a pillow to protect himself. 

“It was you?!”

Peter shrieked as Tony’s arms wrapped around him and he was lifted into the man’s lap. His sock was yanked off and he screamed with laughter as Tony ran feather-light fingers down his bare foot. 

He squirmed around desperately, shrieking and giggling. Tony started tickling under the crook of his knee and he burst into peals of laughter, still trying to escape. “Tony, no no no, stahp, stahp!” he giggled. “‘M gonna pee!” 

Tony laughed and peppered delicate, barely-there kisses all over his face, his hold tight even as his kid thrashed around. He blew a raspberry on his squishy cheek, making Peter absolutely howl. Tony’s grin was so wide it hurt. 

Peter was laughing so hard he started having trouble breathing. He wheezed and struggled in his arms, still giggling. Tony’s fingers tickled under his armpit and he gave a wheezy cackle. He tried to squirm out of his arms, but the man caught him.

“Oh no you don’t, bananaboy!” Tony laughed. He caught the boy’s flailing limbs and let out a triumphant “Gotcha!” Tony scooped up his kid, pulling him into a warm hug and giving a sloppy kiss to his curls. Peter giggled happily, still recovering from the bombardment of tickles. 

Tony grabbed a fuzzy Star Wars themed blanket that had been slipping down the couch cushions and tucked around his kid. Peter sank against his chest, still weak from laughter.

Peter squirmed around, trying to get comfy, and grumbled when the blanket twisted around his legs. Tony helped him get untangled and then pressed his lips to his temple. 

When the boy finally got settled, it quickly became apparent that he was far too comfy to be going anywhere anytime soon, so Tony pulled the boy to his chest. They both watched the snowfall outside the window. Peter could hear both their heartbeats steadily slow.

Tony pressed another kiss to his temple. “FRI, queue up the next episode of Stark Trek for us, will you?”

/ST*RKERS DNI/

Taglist under the cut:

@imissyoutoo @aj-that-person @tonystark-deserves-better @nathaly-ab @skeeter-110 @peter-and-tony-vlogs @teammightypen @joyful-soul-collector @loveliestdisappointment @depuella @scwene-qween @honeythepooh @pixiethefirecat7 @spider-man-lover @jami161 @bringitonvoldie @queen-of-sarcasm-25 @roxy3457 @memilon @iron-loyalty @gralaca @bitchingpretty @pillowspace @thatminecraftgal @clockworkteacup @hatakehikari @wtfischeese @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @skydiving-without-a-parachute @yansi1923 @slytherin-hamilton-life-12  @dead-inside-pt2 @name-me-regret

If anyone wants to be added/ removed please let me know!

[thatoneshipperisme]

Spideypool- Merry Christmas, Baby boy~

This was a Christmas Special from last year, I’m gonna drop it here! It was my first time writing proper smut, not random drabble. Don’t expect a lot from it, it’s pretty bad.

(18+ smut, fluffy at the start, then Peter gets hella horny)

The Avengers were all outside in the snow, messing around and having snowball fights.

Stephen and Tony were making snarky remarks about the snowman Bucky and Steve were making, saying it was lopsided and the middle snow chunk was too big, which it was, but it was one of the first few times they’d made a snowman, it’s been a while. Falcon was chatting to Bruce about new upgrades to his gear, and Clint and Natasha were having a very violent snowball fight, which had turned into ’who could bury the other person in the snow first.’ Natasha was winning. Meanwhile, Spider-Man was standing a small while away, out of earshot and danger from the violent tendencies of the two, having just returned from a month-long mission that morning. Almost immediately, his scarf that wasn’t really needed, blew off in a really strong gust of wind, so strong that it knocked over the already crumbling snowman.

The scarf was a present MJ had given to him for Christmas earlier that day so he went to chase it, it has landed in a bush down the side of the compound’s main building, a 3 minute run away from all his friends. He grabbed the scarf and wrapped it around his neck and started to stroll back to the rest of the gang when he heard the crunching of snow behind him. He turned around quickly, even though his spidey-sense didn't go off, and was met face-to-chest with the Merc with a Mouth. Deadpool slid back a bit so he could bend down and invade Spider-Man’s personal space further.

”Just the Spider I was looking for! Merry Christmas, baby boy~!” Deadpool said in the sweetest tone he could muster. He was up to something.

”Same to you, Pool! What’s up?” Spidey said, trying to hide the happiness in his voice. He was excited to see the merc, even though he supposedly should be afraid of him. Spider-Man and Deadpool have a good history together, and they often helped each other out when they could, and they have grown close. Close enough for Peter to reveal his identity to the other. But Wade is still anxious about his appearance, so they only know each other’s names to keep it fair. Spidey has seen small portions of Deadpool’s body and face, but only when he was regenerating, so he hasn't seen enough. Deadpool hasn't seen any of Peter’s face, maybe an eye, but he can’t remember. He has had multiple chances to sneak a peek, but he refuses to break the Super-Bro code. He has seen some of Peter's arms and legs, because of damage to his suit, but once again, nothing major.

”Nothin’ much, was just on my way past, decided to come and visit my favourite Avenger!”

Peter melted. He couldn't believe what just came out of Deadpool’s mouth. He lied. He couldn't like him that much, could he?

”Awww, T-thanks, Wade, Y-your too, too nice.” Peter was so glad he was wearing his mask, or Wade would have seen the intense amount of blood rushing to his face. He would honestly not be surprised if it showed through the mask, he was blushing that much. Wade wasn't unaffected by this, his heart always skips a beat when Peter uses his full name, and it always puts a smile on his face.

”Too nice? Well, shit. I better not dial it up anymore then.” Deadpool fake sulks as he dramatically spins around, walking away in slow motion, practically begging to be called after. This reveals the blue and red wrapped present he was holding behind his back.

”Wait, What’s that?” Peter says, playing into the joke.

”Oh, this? This was just a little something for you, but I’m ’too nice’, so I might just keep it.” He says, tipping the box from side to side slightly, rolling the contents inside the box around.

”Nonono, wait.” Peter scrambles, not thinking, his curiosity getting the better of him.

”Oh, I’m not nice enough now?” he teases, slowly wandering back towards Peter. ”Well, I better make up for that. Here, Petey.” He says, handing the box to the shorter male. Peter stares off into space for a second, awestruck by the nickname Wade has taken a liking to. Peter snaps back to reality and cautiously takes the box from the other’s gloved hands and slowly tears it open, holding it slightly away from his face, in case it explodes or something. Once he has the box unwrapped, he opens it slowly, pointing it away from his face, and at the merc, causing Wade to chuckle, knowing the reason. Once it doesn't explode after 3 seconds, he peers into the box and his eyes light up. Inside the box lays 15 small Spider-man Tsum Tsums, or what Peter likes to call them, ’Spider-Loaves.’ Peter immediately starts bouncing on the balls of his feet, showing how appreciative he is of the gift.

”I couldn't find these anywhere, where did you get these?!?” Peter squeaked, excitement very evident in his voice.

”There were a couple shops that sold some of them in Japan, so-”

”YOU WENT TO JAPAN FOR THESE?!?” Peter gasped. ”You went to Japan, for me?”

”Well, yeah. You sounded like you loved these, and I had nothing but potential gold cards on my plate, and Christmas was kinda close, so I went over there for an afternoon and swept the streets looking for them. They're from 3 different stores, that’s how hard they are to get.” Wade rambles, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and mindlessly gesturing with the other.

”Wade, ” Peter mumbles, voice shaking slightly, tears threatened to spill, looking down at the small plushies. Wade’s smile falters a little, noticing the shakiness in the smaller man’s voice. ”Thank you.” He finishes, looking back up at Wade’s face, grin evident through his mask. Peter puts the lid back on the box, to stop the loaves from getting covered in the snow that started to fall. Wade’s smile returns and out of nowhere Peter closes the gap between the two, hugging Wade at almost full force, making sure not to crush his spine, but hard enough to get his point across.

”Woah! Baby boy, I’m glad you like em’, ”

”I don’t like them, Wade. I love them. Thank you so much.” Wade’s heart is soaring at this point, tears threatening to spill from his eyes, both from happiness and from the tightness of the hug.

”Well, I better let you get going, you did say you were on your way past, so you were going somewhere, right?” Peter questioned.

”Well... about that. I lied, I only came to see you. But if you want me to go-” Wade trails off, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb in the direction he came from.

”No! I mean, if you can stay, please do. I’d love for you to stay.” Peter stumbles over his words, wringing his hands. “A-and it’s really sweet of you, all of this.”

”It’s a pleasure for me to come to visit you, Petey, it's no problem. You do know I can't hang around the others though, right? So you’d have to hang with me here. It’d be kinda boring.” Wade’s happy, reassuring voice switches into one of concern and warning, reminding Peter that the other Avengers very much dislike Deadpool.

”Hanging around you is nothing short of a good time Wade. Don’t beat yourself up.” Peter half scolds, half reassures.

”Thanks, Baby boy,” Wade says, a sad smile on his face. Peter’s heart feels like it moves into his throat whenever that nickname arises, and, lucky for him, it seems to be Wade’s favourite name for Peter. Wade walks over to the building they were standing under when Peter notices a small detail. There’s a small bunch of Mistletoe hanging from Wade’s belt, partially hidden by a pouch on his left, just behind the point of his hip bone. He TOTALLY wasn't looking at Wade’s ass or anything. He probably has it from a party earlier today or something. Peter gets an idea. A bad idea, but an idea none the less. He jogs up on Wade’s left and tugs the Mistletoe slightly, and the loose knot comes undone. He switches the plant from his right hand to his left, and holds it in the same hand as his now most treasured possession and looks up at Wade, who wasn’t paying attention. Success. Now to put it to use.

Peter has recently come to terms with how he felt about guys, and he found out through Deadpool. He found out that he had fallen hard for the merc, and he hasn't regretted it for a second. He cared a lot and finding out that Wade would go to lengths that no-one else ever would to see him have even a spark of joy in his eyes like today was the push he needed to make a move. He loved Wade more than he loved any girl and that was weird at first, but not something unwelcomed. His thoughts were interrupted by the clunk of Wade’s katana holsters hitting the metal wall of the main building as he leant against it. Peter realized he could and should make his move now, so he walked up next to Wade and hooked the loop of small rope that held the Mistletoe around his finger and leant against the wall, his hand above his head, arm bent nonchalantly. Wade looked over in a confused manner and chuckled.

“Who’s that for?” Wade says between laughs, pointing to the Mistletoe. When Peter looks up at it, he realizes that he’s a bit too short, and the Mistletoe didn't reach over Deadpool’s head. Peter looks at the ground so intensely with embarrassment that he could melt the snow he was looking at. Peter felt Wade’s hand on his and looks back up, and Wade is now holding the Mistletoe high enough so it’s over both of their heads. ”That’s better, right? That’s what was meant to happen?” Deadpool asks with a smirk, slightly rubbing it in.

”Don’t tease me, Wade. I tried, okay?” Peter pouts, obviously joking.

”I know Baby boy. I was actually going to pull that trick-” He says, grabbing at his belt, where the Mistletoe was. ”You sneaky little Spider!” Wade gasps placing his hand on his chest dramatically, pulling a giggle from Peter.

”Okay, can we get to the purpose of that? I’m kinda getting impatient down here.” Peter manages to say, obviously nervous and embarrassed, while tying it to the jokes about his height from earlier.

”Wait, you're committing to the gag? You don't have to, yknow?” Deadpool says, hiding the nervousness in his voice Wade hates dealing with mushy feelings. He’s had a bad run with relationships, but he knew he actually loved Peter. He’s been pushing it away, but it got stronger. Even yellow and white started to love him more and more.

”I did it because I wanted to. Gotta commit. Unless you don’t want to, of course.” Peter says, slightly shrinking back, hoping he didn't ruin anything.

”No, Baby boy. I really want to, I just, I uhh-” Wade stumbles, trying to form a cohesive sentence.

”Wade. Yes or no. Or I’m kissing you through your damn mask.” Peter says, tugging his own mask up to his nose.

”Yeah, okay. Yes. Mhm.” Wade says, bending down to Peter’s height. Peter stands there, waiting for Wade to pull up his mask, and decides to say something after a good 10 seconds.

”Wade? Your mask.”

”Oh, oh, yeah. Could- Could you do it? I can’t do it myself, My hands are completely broken.” Wade says, obviously lying because his hands were quite visibly not broken and supporting his half squatting position by resting on his knees. But Peter complies. He pulls the mask up to his nose, taking all of his self-control to not pull it up further to see his eyes. His skin was so... Scarred. Peter thought he must be afraid of him thinking he’s disgusting, or revolting. His skin most likely felt so unique and Peter would have loved to touch Wade’s face, to hold his face and tell him he was beautiful a million times over. He still had his hand on Wade’s mask when the next words shocked him. ”Further. I know you want to. Tear off the band-aid now baby boy. Or don’t, I don't mind.” Wade said hesitantly. Peter slowly took off the rest of the mask, finding the rest of Wade’s face to be scarred like his chin and lips were. Wade slowly reopened his eyes to see Peter’s mask, and it’s lifeless eyes staring back at him.

”Not a pretty sight, I Kn-mMPH!” Wade’s self-depreciation was cut short when Peter tore off the rest of his mask, dropping both the box and the masks and tackled Wade to the ground in a forceful kiss, which Wade immediately responded to with kisses of his own. They were laying in the snow, making out like the world was going to explode if they stopped. It was a mess of clashing teeth and breathy noises, and it was perfect. Wade’s hand shot up to Peter’s hair, the other settled in the dip of Peter’s side, where his hand fit perfectly like it was made to fit there. Peter’s hands went straight to Wade’s face, cupping it in his hands, testing the grounds for how much he could touch. They eventually had to break apart for air, and they both started laughing.

”That was a bit violent, Baby boy.” Wade chuckled in a husky voice. Peter went silent and red rushed over his face. The nickname had worked a damn treat and Peter was a stuttering mess from how sensual Wade’s voice sounded and it made Peter quite excited. Wade felt Peter pressing onto his stomach through the spandex and leather and chuckled darkly. He could have fun with this, he was going to rile Peter up as much as possible. He didn't realize that Peter was going to do the same thing.

”I like it rough.” Peter whispered, making his voice more arousing.

”Oh, I’m glad, because I can do rough.” Wade responded in an equally sexy tone, running his middle finger up from the base of his spine to the middle of his back causing Peter to whine right in Wade’s ear.

”I’m hoping you’ll do me instead.” Peter responds, arousal present in his voice.

”I’m sick of the banter, what do you want me to do to you?” Wade practically growls into Peter’s ear, encouraging more dirty talk from the painfully hard other currently laying on top of him in the cold. The heater in Peter’s suit is keeping them both warm, as well as the tension between the two and body heat from Wade.

”I want to get out of the snow first.” Peter giggles, ruining the mood immediately.

”Good plan.” Wade agrees, and Peter chuckles. He sits up on Wade’s stomach, his ass rubbing against the tent in Wade’s suit, causing him to moan lowly and Peter’s dick twitches obediently in response, Peter following with a groan. ”This is going to be hard to work around,” Wade says, touching the tip of Peter’s clothed cock with his pointer finger, making him groan again.

”Mhm.” Peter hummed, biting his lip as to try and silence any embarrassing noises that would come out of his mouth. Peter stands up and sticks a hand out for Wade to take, and he pulls Wade up of the snow. You could almost see grass where they were laying because of the melting snow, and there were indents in the snow from where Peter’s knees were. They quickly covered their tracks by kicking the snow around, maybe kicking some at each other in the process, and that’s when Peter’s Spidey-Sense went off.

”Hide Wade,” Peter warns and hands Wade his box of Spider-Loaves. Wade runs behind the corner of the building and listens in, waiting for something to happen. The thrusters of the Iron-Man suit were heard and there was some chatter, and the thrusters faded away in the distance. Peter wandered around the corner in his mask and pulled it off.

”It was just Tony saying something about dinner,” Peter responded. ”I wasn't really listening, I was too busy trying to hide my boner.”

”Well, I know where to hide my boner.” Wade comments, wiggling his eyebrows. Well, where his eyebrows would be. Peter takes this moment to pull out the big guns, and walks close enough to Wade to press his rock hard erection into Wade’s thigh, and moan directly into his ear.

”Where? In my mouth? Or in my ass? Wherever you want it, you can put it, daddy.” Wade makes a choked noise in the back of his throat and his dick somehow gets harder at the younger male’s words.

”J-Jesus Baby boy, who taught you how to dirty talk?”

”The person who is most likely gonna fuck me tonight, and for life if you don’t. Better make your move.” Peter groans, rolling his hips into Wade’s leg, letting out a full-blown moan, letting his tongue roll out of his mouth slightly and leaning his cheek on Wade’s chest. Wade grabs Peter’s ass with a death grip and his dominant side kicks in.

”This here, this is mine, no one else owns this ass, got it baby boy?” Peter moans and bucks his hips into Wade’s leg again as approval, Wade dragging the smaller man’s hips in the opposite direction, slowing down the thrust to a grind, causing a whine to slip from Peter’s lips.

”Y-yes daddy.” Peter complies with a small moan. ”But can we go to your place? I live here, and everyone is in that building.”

”Can do Baby boy.” Wade cooes as he lets off his grip on Spidey’s ass, but keeping one hand there resting protectively, as to say ’Mine.’ Peter takes notice of this of course and thinks to himself about how protective and jealous he got about this nonexistent person who was gonna steal him away. If it were to happen literally, it would technically be him jerking it, cause he did it subconsciously while pleasuring himself one night.

TIME SKIP I JUST WANT THEM TO BONE

They reached Wade’s apartment, and he prepared for the best, so he cleaned his apartment before leaving to see Peter. Peter was getting antsy on the trip back, so there was no surprise that as soon as the door shut, Peter and Wade were all over each other, Peter led the kiss and Wade led the way to the bed. Once they were in the bedroom, Wade took charge. He pinned Peter to the wall and stripped him and himself down to the waist. Their bare chests gliding together, aided by a thin layer of sweat. Peter was breathing heavily, hard and begging for some friction between the two, and Wade wanted to tease, make him beg. Beg for release.

”Use your words, Baby boy,” Wade commands in between leaving hickies.

”A-ah, please, I need you, anywhere, everywhere. Take me, I’m yours! Ah, ” Peter pleads, and God if Wade wasn't hard before he was now. Painfully so.

”God Peter, I adore when you talk dirty, let's start with something tame. Knees.” Wade commands, and Peter obeys, dropping to his knees with a thud. Peter autopilots to the zipper, seeing enough gay porn to know what to do. He’s never done this with a person before but has done it on and with many toys. What he wasn't expecting was Wade’s size. Wade was bigger than Peter by a long shot, and bigger than any of his toys he could handle with his mouth by a landslide.

”Intimidating, I know. Take it slow.” Wade reassures, reading Peter’s mind. Peter takes the tip into his mouth and swallows around it, earning a low growl in response from Wade. He goes down about 4 inches before gagging, he hasn't done this in a while. He bobs his head up and down, slowly making 5 and working the other 4 with his hand. Wade is making low noises and small unintelligible praises, giving Peter the courage to go faster. He makes 5 1/2 before he’s reached his limit. He pulls off with an obscene pop and open mouth pants, using both hands, resting the tip on his tongue while he catches his breath. He flicks his tongue over the head and Wade tries to suppress a moan.

”Does it feel good?” Peter asks, genuinely curious. He hasn't been able to get feedback before, so he took this opportunity to.

”So, -hah- good, Baby, -hah- baby boy, ” Wade looks down and almost finishes from the sight. The doe-eyed male kneeling at his feet, hard beyond belief, hair messy, lips swollen, with his dick in his mouth. He had been dreaming of this for a while. Every now and then, Peter would dive over half way down and rip a loud moan out of Wade, catching him off guard. He would bob up and down for 2 minutes then back off with the dirtiest sound that you could imagine. He would sit there, teasing you, and dive back down after catching his breath. Once he got a rhythm down, he began palming himself through the bottom half of his suit and he would moan around Wade’s cock, and that sent shivers up his spine. He also started doing some kind of magic with his tongue at one point. A specific moan sent Wade barreling over the edge and he came down the younger man's wrecked throat, moaning, cursing and praising all at once.

”Fuck, Baby boy, I- hhh- God so good for me- I'm gonna, Pete, I-I-I I-haHHnnngh!” Wade grabbed onto the closest piece of furniture, which was a chest of drawers, and he gripped so hard when he came he almost put his fingers through the wood. When he opened his eyes, he saw the image that he will never forget. Peter was sitting back on his heels, licking the escaping juices from his mouth and hands, cleaning himself up.

”Fu-uck, Baby boy, a-are you g-good?” Peter just looked up at Wade and licked his lips, clearing them of any amount of cum that escapes, and let out a small moan at the taste. Wade's spent dick was already feeling up to a round two, and Peter had finished cleaning himself up with a shirt Wade pulled out of the drawers he almost destroyed.

”C-can you help me now, daddy?” Peter almost pleads, standing up shakily.

”Absolutely, baby boy,” Wade says as he pushes Peter onto the bed. Wade leans over Peter and kisses him like he means it. Sweet and calming. Peter is starting to try and gain friction, so Wade slides down Peter’s body, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. He gets to Peter’s waistband and pulls his suit pants and boxers down, and lets his member spring free. Wade immediately licks from base to tip and takes all 6 inches into his mouth at once. Peter bucks his hips and lets out an embarrassingly loud moan, and immediately covers his mouth afterwards.

”Be as loud as you want Petey, I wanna hear you scream my name.” Wade says voice glazed in arousal. Peter shivered at the commanding voice and complied, removing the hand from his mouth and immediately after, Wade rapidly starts bobbing his head, working his tongue into the mix, but not enough to make Peter cum. Wade waits until Peter is on the brink and then he pulls off, stalling, teasing.

”You didn't scream my name like I asked. So you will be punished.” Wade says, and gets off the bed, and strips the rest of the way. This was enough time for Peter to come down off his high and watched in anticipation and Wade grabbed the lube from a draw in the bedside table. He flashed a condom at Peter with a questioning look and Peter shook his head, so Wade shrugged and threw it back in the drawer. It didn't click as to why they would have needed one, but they were both clean, Wade can't get infected with anything cause of his super healing and Peter is just super cautious about that stuff. Wade mentioned it on one of their adventures so that was in the back of his mind. Wade motioned for Peter to roll over and Peter complied, and Wade had gotten ready while Peter wasn't paying attention. 1 finger slid in with ease, 2 was a bit of pain, 3 wasn't too bad since Wade prepped for a bit longer. 4 was agony, and then, once I got used to it, Wade removed his hand and replaced it with his dick.

”Talk dirty baby boy. You never answered my question by the way. What do you want me to do to you?” Wade groaned into Peter’s ear as he eased in, it hurt a little, but it was bearable. Once Peter could get some of his mind back, he realized Wade could bottom out almost painlessly, so he rolled his hips forward and bucked back to give the sign for Wade to move. Wade reminded Peter that there was a question to be answered. He slowed down to let Peter speak but changed from easing, constant, almost seemingly loving thrusts to even, sharp, hard slams into his tight ass.

”Baby boy, I’m gonna ask one last time, what would you like for me to do to you?”

Wade asked, face right next to Peter’s ear. Peter responded the best he could while being rammed in the ass by Wade.

”Fuck me until I can't walk, -nngh-Fill me up so I can feel you for -hah- days, Go round after round until I -nnh- pass out, let me make you cum so hard you -ah- see white. Let me pleasure you like -mmh- you pleasure me. Paint my insides white, bottom out in-ghh-side me, feed me until I’m -hAH- full and then some, let me swallow some of you, -Uhn- suck you off till you cum down my throat, pin me to the wall, let me -Ah- ride you, tie me up, pin me -hnngh- down, anything, please Wade. Please Daddy-hng-”

”Pete, fuck. Yeah, yeah, I can do most of those, shit.” Wade said, breathlessly, taking in the sight and words that Peter was giving him. The reality of the situation hit him like a metal baseball bat swung by the Hulk. His dick was fully buried in Spider-Man’s ass, both of them unmasked and out of suit, Peter begging for Wade to bend him over and fuck him in every way imaginable and then some. Wade almost came from the realisation but did the second best thing he could do instead. He let out an embarrassingly loud moan and sped up, Peter now clambering for purchase in the sheets, a moaning panting mess. His face was a deep red, and Wade’s was too. Peter had his tongue out of his mouth, open-mouth panting like a dog. Wade had tunnel vision on Peter, he was the only thing that mattered right now. Peter was getting dangerously close to the edge, the familiar warm fire in his stomach returning from earlier, but way more intense. This was the most aroused and pleasured Peter had ever felt, and he thought he might explode. He was barely making sounds anymore, just high pitched squeaks when Wade slammed in.

”Fuck- I’m close, baby boy.” Wade warned, and Peter just nodded in response, since his throat was dry and wrecked both from Wade’s cock and from moaning so much. Wade pulled his hips all the way back, and slammed the entirety of his dick back into Peter at once, grazing his prostate at the same time, tearing a strangled moan from both of the men as they came together, making a mess of Peter and the bedsheets below. ”W-Wade! Oh fuck, -hah- -mmmnh-” Peter moaned, almost passing out from the pleasure, feeling dizzy after so intensely finishing.

”Are you okay baby boy? You sound absolutely wrecked.” Wade says, collecting some of Peter’s cum on his hand from the bedsheets that were far from salvageable, curious as to how he tastes. After Peter gets his breath back, Wade slowly pulls out, a pained groan being shared between the two, both obviously overstimulated. Peter’s hips connect with the bed after seemingly a year. Wade had gotten up and went to the bathroom to clean himself up, and after he finished he came back in with a towel and grabbed two pairs of boxers from the damaged chest of drawers. He knelt down on the bed and started to clean Peter up, kissing him, filling the exchange with love and care, even though Peter could no longer feel his legs. Wade threw the towel somewhere in the room once he was done, looking over at a dazed Peter, and he never noticed how amazing Peter looked. His curly locks were in his half-lidded hazel eyes, and his lips were slightly parted, looking very kissable. His neck and collarbones were littered with purple bruises, and he was quite muscular.

”S-stop staring, Wade. You're making me body conscious.” Peter snickered, looking into Wade’s eyes and immediately got lost in them. They were the most beautiful and enticing shade of blue, and looking into them made him feel safe. There were so many emotions swirling around in them, most he couldn't recognize.

”I’d have to say the same thing to you, baby boy.” Wade teases, tapping Peter’s nose with his finger. Peter snapped out of his trance and flung his arms around Wade’s neck, dragging him into a warm kiss. The kiss wasn't needy or desperate like their first one, it was calculated and loving, warm. They wouldn't have had their first kiss any other way though. Once they broke apart the kiss, Wade dropped himself onto the bed next to Peter, engulfing him in a hug, pulling him to his chest and entangling their legs, revelling in the combined body warmth. Wade sighed contently and let his eyes slide closed, Peter trying to cuddle closer.

”Merry Christmas, Wade. I love you.” Peter slurred, half asleep already.

”Love you too Baby Boy, goodnight.”

[acecorvid]

Puzzle Pieces [Spideypool Fic]

another installment of the Spiderfamily/Spideypool verse

It was hard after the divorce. Peter remembers that rock bottom, the rejection, the disappointment, the failure, the loneliness. Rough does not begin to cover that time in Peter’s life. But he also remembers the moment with his occasional crime fighting partner when the banter got too real.

He’s not even sure what Wade said now, something about other MJs in the sea and something flirty. They’d been flirting a lot, for a long time. Subtle and harmless, but maybe it wasn’t so harmless now that he and MJ split. What Peter does remember is his hands pushing Wade against the wall of an alleyway to shut him up; he remembers the anger and sadness coursing through him, and he remembers Wade laughing breathlessly.

“Sometimes I like it rough, baby boy.”

It wasn’t rough, though, when Peter finally let his hands slide up from Wade’s shoulders to slip under the mask at his neck and push it up. It wasn’t rough when he caressed Wade’s cheek after stopping the mask just above his nose. It was soft, like the press of Peter’s lips against Wade’s chapped ones. Soft like the startled noise that was muffled by a second kiss and a smirk from Peter realizing Wade had been all talk and the deep moan when Peter let his hand wander lower on Wade’s body.

Getting off in an alleyway while wearing the Spider-Man suit wasn’t Peter’s proudest moment, but it was a defining moment, or at least a memorable one. One that he replayed in his mind often, and at inopportune moments, like staring at this new Wade across the kitchen table.

A snap of fingers took his out of his reverie and he glanced around, all the young spiders staring at him with questionable looks. The room had an uncomfortable vibe and Peter really hoped it wasn’t obvious what he was thinking about. The smirk tugging at Wade’s mask told him otherwise.

“Maybe you kids go for a walk,” Peter said, shoving Miles’ hand out of his face.

Miles made a face, Gwen gave them both a finger salute before escorting the other three smaller spiders out the door. Noir followed them but he turned, the wind blowing at his cape - something Peter was still getting used to.

“You’re older than me, but I’m from a time older than you. From an era you could scarcely dream of. I’m an old soul. Not a child.”

Peter stood up, grabbing what Noir had left at the table, “Your rubik’s cube says otherwise, champ.”

“One day I’ll understand you,” Noir whispers to the colorful box as Peter guides him out the front door and shuts it behind him.

“All alone, Petey B.”

Peter sighs, pressing his forehead against the door. He thinks he misses the way Wade had called him ‘baby boy’ for all those years.

“You’re not the same, Wade. Are you?”

When Peter turns around, Wade is standing up from the table and taking off his mask. He looks like the same Wade, he isn’t sure what another multiverse Wade would look like. Maybe there’s a verse where Wade’s skin isn’t… but then he doesn’t think he’d recognize that man.

“You’ve got your thinking cap on, B.”

“Stop-” It takes Peter a moment and it clicks, “You called him that, didn’t you? The Peter of this universe. You called him ‘baby boy’ before he died.”

Wade frowns but he nods, “Didn’t like it as much as you probably did.”

“I hated it,” Peter laughs, but he’s shaking his head, “But I guess I didn’t. I think it worked on me. I don’t think it would have, if me and MJ hadn’t broken things off, but I also think… I think it was working the whole time. Took me a while to realize that I always flirted back, even when I was annoyed with you-him-ah-”

“I’m not the same, but I’m more ‘the same’ than you are to this verse’s Peter.”

“Oh thanks, cryptic as always Wade.”

“I can see the multiverse, old man, you can’t. There’s a dog version of me running around right now.”

“A dog.”

“Lady Deadpool, Kidpool, the list goes on and I can know they’re there.”

“You can see what they’re doing?”

“I can see what they’ve done. Spooky shit, right?”

Peter groans, walking over to the couch and flopping down, “I don’t know why I thought I could get a proper conversation out of you.”

Wade follows him over and practically vaults over the back of the couch to land with his head in Peter’s lap. “Different rules apply here, I could wax you a poem and maybe it would be in character enough to make the cut.”

Peter shakes his head and looks up at the ceiling, maybe hoping for the whole Stark house to be defective and come crashing down on him. “Please don’t.”

“Feeling guilty? For cheating?”

“We weren’t together, Wade. We had- it was one night.” One single night that Peter regretted for so long. The guilt made him drive Wade away and never talk to him again. He pushed everyone who cared about him out of his life until he was a lonely old man, saving the city all by himself. Not a way for a guy to live. “And is it really cheating if it’s… you?”

“What if I banged Porker right now?”

“First:” Peter says calmly before he’s not calm, “How? How would you manage that? That doesn’t even-! You had to pick the pig? The weirdest possible- couldn’t have been Noir? Although now that I think about it maybe that is the weirder pick. Why did you have to put that image in my head? I hate you so much, Wilson.” He pokes at Wade’s cheek as he lets his voice lower, “And second, maybe I wouldn’t be entirely cool if I found out you and golden boy Parker had a thing before he died.”

“We didn’t.”

“Yeah, but we did.”

“For the record, I’m not hurt. If your verse’s Wade saw me now we’d high five and then maybe- maybe we’d do something that’s definitely not PG rated to you.”

Peter’s jaw drops and he nearly pushes Wade off his lap, “That is- that is not a topic- I wouldn’t-”

“Oh, my dear sweet Peter, did we find a kink?” Wade’s grinning like the cat that got the cream and Peter doesn’t know if he wants to stand up and let Wade fall to the floor or kiss him. So he does both.

Wade is knocked to the floor but Peter’s following him down and stretching out on top of him, pressing their lips together. He feels exactly like his verse’s Wade, the way he kisses, the feel of his gloves sliding up his back and pulling him closer, the firmness of his fit body beneath his own. It’s almost the same. But this Wade tugs his gloves off and buries his hands in Peter’s hair as he rolls them over and pins Peter to the ground. This Wade pushes Peter’s thigh apart with his knee and presses his thigh down hard making Peter moan against Wade’s dry lips and buck upwards. It’s rougher but it’s also sweet in the way Wade kisses down Peter’s jawline and sucks a mark too high on his neck that the kids are going to give him hell for. It’s faster than Peter wants it to be, but he knows they have time, they can have more than one night.

“It’s a shame.”

Wade lifts his head from where he’s resting it on Peter’s shoulder, “That your back is gonna be wrecked from this? We’re definitely too old to be getting off on the floor, and you don’t have the healing factor that I do.”

“No I- actually- oh god I can feel my neck spasming already- frick!” Peter rolls his shoulder and he knows he’s going to be in pain for the rest of the day. “No, I meant- it’s a shame that we, use two versions of ourselves, didn’t end up in the same universe.”

“Getting sappy on me, B?” Wade pauses, “Baby boy?”

Peter cringes, “Oh, actually maybe don’t.”

Wade laughs into his shoulder, “Make up your mind!”

“Maybe I’m too old for that. Or maybe that’s not us. Either way, and yeah man I’m getting sappy, I think I like the way we fit.”

“Insert puzzle analogy here.”

“Wade.”

“Or maybe I’ll insert something else, wink wink.”

“Wade.”

Peter feels Wade’s lips on his neck, trailing up to his lips, “Yeah, Petey, we fit pretty nice.”

(first) (next)

[spongeekat]

The 6 Times Peter Wanted To Reveal his Identity (And the 1 Time He Did) Chapter 3

Masterlist Here

Day 3 - Tuesday

Peter’s hand rubbed against the zipper track beginning above the curve of his spine, fingertips again coming up empty. His arms dropped uselessly against his side, groaning to audibly show his disappointment.

His zipper was there somewhere. He heard it dinging against the metal teeth up the length of his back, and if he kept feeling for it he would find it.

Peter yawned, tears peeking out from the corners of his eyes, as his fingers continued to prod in the small of his back. He was completely and utterly exhausted. The night previous perusing the city had been brimming with robberies, car jackings, and muggings, as if the slight increase in temperature prompted every convict to crawl out of their hiding spots to wreak havoc. He’d clawed himself into his bed sometime around 5 AM, caught 2 hours of sleep, and was out the door sprinting to class by 7:00. He was looking for any reason not to go on patrol, even if it was as minor as an unlocatable zipper, to at least give him a chance to rest for a few seconds.

His gloves eventually brushed the pull tab, and he deflated. Guess he had to finish suiting up. He tugged the zipper up to his neck and fiddled with the spandex momentarily, pulling it snug in all the right places.

That was, until a knock on his window pane had the tired boy jumping 5 feet in the air and throwing himself backwards into a defensive position on his furthest wall. His toes firmly drug to a stop on the wallpaper, one arm shooting out with his fingers ready to tap his web-shooters if need be. There was a muted scuffling behind the glass, though his curtains were drawn so he couldn’t see who was there. It didn’t take long to figure out, however.

“ Petey, Petey, Petey, Petee-eee-ey ~” The intruder was caroling his name to the tune of Jolene , repeating his knuckle raps obnoxiously to the beat of the song. “ I’m begging of you please just let me in. ”

“Wade?” Peter snapped as realization sunk in to his chest. It took seconds to calm his adrenaline-ridden heartbeat, more relieved that he wasn’t about to face a criminal than he was mad Wade had nearly sent him into cardiac arrest. He peeled himself silently off the wall, taking short, but annoyed, steps to stand behind the curtains without drawing them. “What the hell, dude? You scared the pants off of me. Why are you on my fire escape? And singing Dolly Parton?”

Wade hummed the rest of the verse to himself, presumably out of parodying song lyrics, before he started to whisper-yell. “Ignoring the fact I should totally make fun of you for what you said, I’m here to check up on you! I said I was going to keep those sweet cheeks safe. Can I come in?”

“Into my bedroom?” Peter asked, weakly, swallowing the suggestive- but intrusive- thoughts that the question entailed. “Um, I’m kinda...preoccupied.”

“Ooo oooh ?”

“Not like that!” Peter groaned, smacking a hand to blanket the reddening of his cheeks. God, he had to change, and fast. He tore the zipper undone he had put in so much effort to find, shoving the suit off his shoulders and hips. “Give me a second!” He kicked the rest of fabric off and lodged it under his bed, using a pillow for extra cover to be safe. His web shooters clattered into the lockable drawer on his desk, the cartridges following them. Shutting the drawer so hard it shuddered, he located the first clothing options in sight; a pair of fluffy pajama pants and an Einstein shirt 2 sizes too big (which was totally a gag gift from MJ months ago that he’d never put  away), which he shimmied into. Confident that he had probablyconcealed every Spidey related item in his panic, he drew open the curtains and flashed Wade an unimpressed look. And there he was, in his full-suited glory, hanging upside down on the rail of Peter’s fire escape as if it was a playset.

“I have a few questions.” Peter said as he pushed the glass open, the screen absent due to years of him climbing out for his nightly routine. Wade didn’t seem to notice- or at least didn’t comment on the lack of one- looking ecstatic that he even answered. “First...why didn’t you call to check up on me? Or use the front door?” He gestured vaguely towards the direction of the living room to accentuate his point.

“You barely texted me today.” Wade answered, curling so he was sitting on top of the bar and facing Peter. The sit-up made his muscles bulge in the leather covering his thighs and abdomen and Peter inhaled carefully to maintain a level expression. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t lonely. Also, I missed you.”

“Good to know.” Peter rolled his eyes, watching Wade drop to hang upside-down childishly. “Just come in. You’re gonna break the rails.”

“Me? Getting on the VIP list to Peter’s bedroom? I feel like I got a golden ticket! Move aside, Willy Wonka!” Wade dropped himself to his hands, flipped ungracefully on his feet, and followed Peter’s lead to let him crawl inside the apartment. His muddy boots hit the carpet and he managed to pull his entire body inside the small opening. He paused upon straightening up, giving his bedroom the same scrutinizing examination he had to the living room his first time visiting. “Never mind. I wanna go outside again. You’re messy, and that’s something coming from me.”

Peter stared at him silently. The mercenary shrugged and half-lept to fall on top of his mattress. “Kidding. It’s cute. It fits you.”  

Peter did his best to ignore the creaking noise of his bed, making his way to his office chair to sit across the room. “I appreciate the housecall, but is that the only reason you came? I actually was kinda in the middle of something.”

“I’m hurt. I brought home-cooked meals and you already wanna kick me out?” Wade gasped in faux-pain, pulling off his pink Hello Kitty backpack. He drew out a grocery bag filled with containers, setting it beside the foot of the bed.

Peter was taken aback, a slightly stunned expression passing over his face. His outward appearance hardly changed, yet his stomach churned nervously at the thoughtful gesture. “You cook?”

“Nah, they’re frozen, but I make a mean pancake in case you’re ever interested. It’s the thought that counts though, right?”

“Thanks.” Peter rubbed his forearm, finding anywhere else to look to avoid staring at Wade.

“Soooo, what’s a kid like you busy doing tonight?” Wade asked as he stretched out across his comforter, propping his feet up on his mattress. “Playing games? Watching porn? Still wallowing about that ex-girlfriend that’s pregnant with someone else’s money-burner?”

“What? No, there’s no ex-girlfriend, dude, I already said that.” Peter muttered, struggling not to let his vision wander to his Spidey suit shoved  beneath Wade’s sitting place. “I have a lot of homework I have to catch up on.”

“Boooo-oring.” Wade kicked a few of his pillows aside, rolling onto his side as his bed squeaked again. Peter desperately needed that noise to stop if he was going to guard his sanity.

“Okay, well, this was a great visit and all, but you can text me next time you wanna play therapist, okay?” Peter pushed himself to his feet, walking over to offer his hand to Wade to help him up. He stood there a moment with no reaction, Wade seemingly refusing to accept it, instead sitting up on his own.

“Do you seriously want me to go?” Wade asked, a weird tone ebbing into his voice. Was he confused? Disappointed? Peter wasn’t .

“I-I mean, yeah, I already said I was busy.” He was trying to not sound as annoyed as he felt, but his throat was taut with irritation. It wasn’t quite with Wade, though, because he was trying to be nice. Mostly he was upset with himself; with his inability to execute with his plans that had landed him in a difficult situation he couldn’t imagine resolving without either or both of them ending up hurt; with his emotions that were so intense they were painful, only made worse by the fact Wade was acting so generous to him outside of his superhero identity; and with the fact Wade knew his name, his family situation, and where he lived. Yet he still wasn’t able to bring himself to say that simple sentence.

I’m Spider-Man.

He’d been ready to lay it all out on the line two days ago, albeit with hesitancy, but somehow he had convinced himself that Wade might actually start to reciprocate his feelings if he knew the man behind the mask. His gaze trailed to the plastic bag still resting on the mattress. He had gone out of his way to care for him multiple times. He might be a fun project for Wade to pass the time, but Peter didn’t think he would go this far for some kid he found fun to mess with.

Peter’s eyelids screwed shut, his mind piecing together a way to confront the issue. He could ask him why he was hanging around, and hopefully conversation would naturally circulate back to Sunday night. “H-Hey, Dea-”

“I’ll get out of your hair.” Peter suddenly felt the air change and Wade was towering him, his much larger frame barely an inch from his chest. He had to turn his head up at a steep angle to look at him. There wasn’t the usual humor in his words, and his body language was a lot more tense. Terrific. An upset Wade was never fun. He always had to dig to even get a hint of what was bothering him.

“What?” Peter blinked, watching as Wade shimmied passed him to grab his pack and sling it on his shoulder.

“You said you had stuff to do. I can tell when I’m a problem, Petey-Sweetie. Glad to see you didn’t off yourself today. Good job on that.” Wade shoved the window he had come in open, poking a leg out so that it connected with the grate of the fire escape. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

Peter chewed on his lower lip, his confession filed away in a queue of things to tell Wade in the future. He gave a short nod, guilt immediately radiating in the pit of his abdomen. “Thanks...for this all. Sorry to cut this so short. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“You better. I’ll be waiting.” Wade dropped his pack out the sill, waiting for it to clang against the metal, then ducked his body out of the small cavity. He grabbed his bag, moved to grip onto the ladder leading down into the darkness, then craned his neck to shout one last thing. “You  should get a window screen. You’ll get spiders or ants in your room if you leave it open like this.”

Peter suppressed a spurt of ironic laughter, settling for an amused half-smile instead. “I’ll remember that. Goodnight, Deadpool.”

His weight made the ladder rattle and bang on the poles obnoxiously, probably annoying every other neighbor underneath him, until the sound disappeared and Wade had run off. Once Peter wasn’t able hear his boots scraping the asphalt he pulled his curtains shut, finally feeling able to breathe.

He bent to grab the meal containers, to put them in the freezer before he left for his patrol. It was quite the stock of food, enough to stop him from starving for the rest of the week that Aunt May was absent, and his stomach growled in appreciation.

Maybe he’d see Wade on patrol as Spider-Man, and they’d converse with the comfortable familiarity that had developed naturally between them through years. Wade would make some flirtatious joke, along with one about the spider being his hero that had the strength punch him into another timeline, and they’d team up and be on their way. Peter would be able to feel like his strong, normal self. They’d be friends and superheroes, and not a weak kid and his supposed guardian angel. No lies hanging heavily between them.

He’d muse on Wade’s kindness, that he didn’t deserve, later. For now, he pulled his spidey suit out  and started dragging it up his legs. He had a city to protect, people to save, and his angst would have to be put on reserve for another day.

[pbandparker-archive]

the gang gets outed (well, just one of them) | spideytorch

WHO: @flamexonxbaby. WHEN: Directly after the events of the funhouse. WHAT: Peter’s life is in shambles and Johnny tries Netflix and Chill to make it better. RATING: PG-13.

Peter: Peter's sense were overloaded—he was relieved that the hostages were safe, frustrated that that maniac got away, and incredibly aware of how his identity was now known across the world (probably; that thought alone sent his anxiety spiking). It was a lot to take in, something he was still struggling with even as the group made their way out of the fun house and back into the bright, openness of the carnival grounds. It looked like chaos. He didn't hear the voices, or the cheers, or the claps, or the cries; he focused on pulling his mask off to breathe and rested his palms on his knees. He didn't need the breather, not really, but he had found himself doubling over regardless. After a second, he straightened up and sighed out as a hand went to push back his hair—it was messy and stuck in odd angles. He could never figure out how to fix his mask hair.

Johnny: Johnny and Sue had done their best, along with the handful of others who pitched in, to reign in the mess once the gas and gunfire had started. The feed from the funhouse had been cut off, but even if it hadn’t there hadn’t been time to stop and watch it again. It was only once the last of the gunmen was down and the police actually showed up that there was that eerie moment of calm that still didn’t feel calm at all. It had been awhile since he had one of those. Once others started moving toward the funhouse and Johnny saw people walking out, he made a beeline towards it. He saw Kate, saw Steve Rogers....There he was. He made a beeline for him, tossing out a few sorry, sorry rushed apologies as he moved people aside. “Hey!” He was already to him by then, and reached out to grab one of Peter’s arms.

Peter: He couldn't focus on their missing man. Right now, Peter was just glad everyone was okay and the stressed horror was relatively over. He caught sight of paramedics through the growing crowd around them, but his attention had been stolen elsewhere—Johnny's voice pulled Peter away from his worry and he smiled, tired, but his relief to see that he made it through okay was evident. "Hey," he returned as one of his own hands lifted to clap Johnny on the shoulder, though his touch lingered longer than it should have; Peter was awfully aware of the flash of cell phone being pulled out, no doubt for pictures and videos, despite the urge for the carnival patrons to vacate the premises and go home. Peter was not looking forward to having a talk with Tony, or Aunt May, or really anyone for that matter.

Johnny: “You are so...” Why did his hair have to look like that? Why did everyone else get to see it now? Johnny was no stranger to fame, or fans, or the public eye, but it felt wrong to suddenly have Peter thrust into it. It was going to change everything. He stared at him for a long moment, jaw clenched. The unfinished sentence hung in the air as he slid his hand from Peter’s arm up to the side of his neck. “You’re stupid,” he finally finished, and before he could think anymore about it had pulled him forward and pressed his lips against Peter’s.

Peter: So far, Peter’s day was a weird one. Granted, he had gone toe to toe with various weirdos running around as giant lizards or dressed as birds (not that him running around in a skin-tight, red and blue suit parading as a spider was any better, but he digressed), but having his secret identity be suddenly thrust into the spotlight was a little jarring and he knew that his life was going to change forever. That was only the half of it. The other half was kissing him. It felt like an out of body experience—he could feel his hand stiffen against Johnny’s shoulder, but he hadn’t told it to. His eyes shut of their own accord despite the attention on him, on them. Everyone’s voices were drowned out by the sound of his own confusion and the way his heart pounded in his ears. His other hand had lifted, as well, as if to rest against Johnny’s chest, but it hung there awkwardly; he supposed he was too in shock to do much else. Peter broke the kiss after what felt like a freaking eternity. Undoubtedly, his face was red and there was a lapse in when he opened his eyes. He took a breath and his hand finally made contact with the thinness of Johnny’s top; his gloved fingers curled there in the fabric. “You’re stupid…” He whispered.

Johnny: Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he’d wanted to do that for a very long time. That day in Peter’s apartment with his broken gear...he’d thought about it a half dozen times, probably. Only the idea that Peter had managed to put himself in unprecedented danger finally got him to do it. Well, that and knowing millions of other people were about to start paying attention to dorky ass Peter Parker. The Peter Parker he’d been paying attention to since he was still a teenager. He slid his fingers up into Peter’s messy hair and furrowed his brows. “Probably, but if it’s a contest, you win the stupid prize today.”

Peter: For a hot second (ironic, wasn’t it), Peter forgot about the people around them even though he was awfully aware of what all of this was going to mean. He could practically hear the headlines now. There was no going back now, not when his fingers continued to grasp at Johnny’s shirt. He wasn’t going to have a moment’s peace, was he? There had been plenty of times when Peter had thought about Johnny in this way, but those instances were always fleeting and shoved to the side. It never seemed attainable, or hell, even realistic. They worked well together—god, did they work well together—but an actual relationship just didn’t seem… Right. When Johnny kissed him, however, all of that flew out the damn window. Of course he’d ruin it. Peter visibly relaxed at the feeling of Johnny’s hand in his hair before giving a sheepish glance around at everyone around them; his blush hadn’t quite faded. “Sure looks like it... At least it's not all bad?" He offered as he turned to look back to Johnny. He realized then how tightly he had been holding onto him by the front of his shirt and eased his hands to loosen their grip.

Johnny: There had been a real chance that Peter would tell him to get lost, and maybe that was part of what had kept him from doing anything sooner. At the end of the day, he’d rather have him as his best friend than as nothing, even if it meant pining like an idiot for...maybe forever. Peter hadn’t told him to get lost though. He’d kissed him back, he was holding onto him, and even as Johnny felt him let go he couldn’t help himself. The little smile on his lips loved quickly into a full blown grin. “You’re about to get swarmed, Pete.” He could see both the SCPD and a few of the braver onlookers coming toward them. “Want a lift?”

Peter: This likely wouldn't end well - as Peter's relationships tended to do - but he knew he wouldn't have to worry too much for Johnny's well being, not like he's had to do (and still does) with MJ and Aunt May. Though, that didn't mean the worry would be gone completely; he didn't think he was capable of that. Johnny's smile only served to cause Peter to worry at his bottom lip. This was happening, wasn't it? His nerves were wound tight and he was tired, but that didn't mean he could ignore the butterflies in his stomach. Peter looked to where Johnny was looking and winced, though his tone was teasing. "And you had to make it worse by kissing me, huh?" He turned back to Johnny and nodded, a little too quickly if he was being honest. "Please."

Johnny: “Please, a kiss from me is the highlight of anybody’s day. Maybe their whole life. Was that the highlight of your life, Petey?” He seemed willing to operate under the assumption that the answer was yes. “So sweet.” He’d faced enough situations by then where he’d needed to carry someone that isolating flame in the right parts of his body wasn’t a big deal. Once he’d got over that weird hump of not being able to use his powers after waking up on the side of the road, anyway. They were back to normal, Without warning, he scooped Peter up, let enough flame cover his legs and lower body to fly, and took off. Peter’s apartment might not be safe - not once people figured out he lived there - so he rocketed toward his own instead. Screw NOVA. What was he going to do, call an Uber out of the hell carnival?(edited)

Peter: "Literally any other time and it would be," he retorted with a sheepish, sideways grin. Though, Peter couldn't dent that it had been a highlight. Of his life? Debatable. Still a highlight nonetheless. Peter wasn't completely used to being carried around bridal style, but the movement was so sudden that he stayed quiet on the matter. Instead he wrapped his arms around Johnny's shoulders - the news stations were going to have a field day with this. He felt bad for leaving everyone, but MJ was safe and so was their little makeshift superhero group. The other patrons, the ones who had survived the gas, were okay too. Peter watched the carnival disappear between the buildings as Johnny shot out through the sky.

Johnny: Why was his apartment so far away? Even moving at near-100 miles an hour it still felt like it took too long, both because he wanted out of the air and...Peter was heavy. The window was unlocked as it always was. He let himself in and resisted the urge to just dump him in the floor. The flames died away as he sat him down and shook out his arms. “Were you carrying around rocks in your pocket? God...”

Peter: Peter ushered out a breathy laugh at the comment and set his mask on the bed next to him. "Do I look like I have pockets?" He asked and patted his suit, his brows furrowed while he looked at Johnny a little incredulously. "Dude, I have muscle, y'know... Maybe you just need to, I don't know, work out." He shrugged casually and reached down to remove the boots of his suit.

Johnny: “I work out!” He grabbed the hem of his shirt and lifted it, pointing at his abs. “You think I just drew these on?” Johnny took his hat off, which had miraculously stayed on through the tremendous amount of bullshit at the carnival, and tossed it frisbee-style at his bed, missed, and watched it disappear on the other side toward the floor. Whatever. It took him a few seconds longer to sort of remember that things were different than they had been fifteen minutes earlier, that he- the whole kiss thing. He’d done that. He put his hands on his hips and looked down at the floor between his feet. “So...”

Peter: He shook his head and dropped the last boot on the carpet. "Well, they're obviously not working, so yeah, maybe you did." The jokes were all part of their normal repertoire, but Peter knew he felt a little more anxious than usual; maybe he was in denial about the whole day, or maybe he was trying to stave off the awkward of having to talk about this, even if it was definitely more than obvious that they both liked each other more than—well, more than they previously thought. Peter watched the hat drop to the other side of the bed and snorted; though, his hands dropped to his knees when the atmosphere between them shifted. "So..." He echoed as one of his hands absently squeezed a knee. He bit down on his bottom lip briefly as he gave Johnny a once over. "How long have you, uh..." A nervous laugh escaped him, suddenly. "How long have you wanted to do that?" He forced out, not realizing that his voice would come out softer than he intended.

Johnny: The actual kissing was the easy part. He hadn’t planned on doing it, not then and not that way at least, so he definitely hadn’t got around to the part where they had to talk about it. Pretending like it hadn’t happened wasn’t an option. He didn’t want it to be an option. If anything, he just wanted to kiss him again and leave the rest of the less fun stuff for later... Johnny combed a hand back through his hair and chewed at his lip. A moment later, he sank down to his knees by the bed beside one of Peter’s legs and looked up at him. “I don’t know. Awhile.”

Peter: Awhile. How long was awhile? Peter didn't necessarily wanted to get hung up on that, but the fact that Johnny Storm had been wanting to kiss him, Peter Parker, dork extraordinaire, was a little jarring. It was a little crazy, actually, and something he definitely hadn't noticed before. Maybe the signs were all there and he was just clueless to them all? That wouldn't be the first time. Peter had watched, silently, when Johnny had walked over and knelt down beside him, but the silence after Johnny's words felt deafening. It almost felt insanely wrong to be doing this now, after a hostage situation of all things, but Peter had never been all that great with expressing his feelings verbally—just with grand gestures. So, with one last anxious squeeze to his knees, he leaned down enough to pull Johnny forward and kissed him.

Johnny: Not that he’d cared or really thought about who was watching them at the carnival, but being in his apartment, having Peter sitting on his bed...that was so much better. Johnny moved one hand to rest on the back of his neck, fingers sifting into the other’s dark hair again. He only pulled away long enough to haul himself up onto the bed next to him. Talk about it later. It had been a long day. Talking was exhausting. So he just looked him over for about a half a second before tugging him close enough to wrap his arms around his waist.

Peter: Peter had cared a heck of a whole lot about who was watching them back at the carnival—not only did the whole world know that he was Spider-Man, but now they had Johnny Storm kisses Peter Parker! on top of it. Not to mention the fact that they both fled the scene, together, after that little public display of affection. The headline that followed was going to be a cluster fuck and Peter wasn’t sure if he’d find it hilarious or upsetting. Probably both. But being hid away in Johnny’s apartment helped him to momentarily forget about all of that nonsense. He’d deal with that shit show later—right now, he melted against Johnny’s touch, wanting nothing more than to savor this. There was a brief wave of disappointment when their lips parted, but when Johnny situated himself onto the bed and pulled him closer, Peter felt his cheeks heat up. He didn’t know if it was from the warmth that Johnny exuded or if it was the butterflies that were having a party in his stomach. Regardless of the bundle of nerves, Peter lifted a tentative hand and slid it up Johnny’s shoulder until it reached the back of his neck. They definitely needed to talk about this later.

Johnny: Several minutes passed with Johnny just content to kiss him. It was a relief to be able to finally touch him just to touch him and not have it be under the guise of Oh you got shot or whatever else had come up. Not that he’d minded taking care of him, either. He hadn’t. But eventually he made himself stop, not only because they couldn’t actually ignore everything forever, but because he was getting the undeniable urge to push him back onto the bed. That definitely wasn’t happening yet. He pulled away from him, pulse racing a little, and pressed his forehead against Peter’s. “...So Spider-Man’s got a big ole’ crush on the Human Torch, huh?”

Peter: It was honestly so nice to just forget about everything going on outside and to focus on Johnny and the way he kissed him. Before, Peter had found himself wondering how Johnny might kiss. There were some people who just didn't know what they were doing, but Johnny? Wonder no more. There was a mild disappointment that flooded him when Johnny pulled away, but it was probably for the best, even if everything in him wanted to make that mistake. Peter's eyes closed when he felt Johnny's forehead against his own and laughed wryly at the tease. "That's rich coming from Mr. I've wanted to do that for awhile," he teased back and looked down at his gloved hand pressed against Johnny's chest. "I should change... I can still smell the funhouse on me."

Johnny: “I’m immune to embarrassment. I’ve been in the public eye since I was still going through puberty, dude.” And it helped that he had virtually no shame left. Johnny laid his hand over Peter���s for just a second before he got back to his feet. “You need to borrow something?” They were the same size, almost exactly, even if Johnny was a little protective over his clothes. They were carefully cultivated and all. “So uh...what the hell happened in there? We didn’t see much after I’m Spider-Man. Or maybe I just blacked out because I didn’t want to see how much worse it’d get from there.”

Peter: "Yeah, and I haven't. They're gonna eat me alive." There was a laugh in there somewhere, but it only served to mask his nerves. They had given the media so much material that he didn't think they were going to need much else to stave them over for a while. Oh dear god, Mr. Jameson was going to have a heart attack, if he didn't already. Peter watched as Johnny removed himself from the bed, already sorry for the missing weight beside him and shook his head. "No, I'm good. I brought my backpack with me..." He slapped his hand over his own chest and the suit went slack around his shoulders before he reached over to snag his bag from the floor. At Johnny's question, Peter scoffed as he opened his bag and started to pull out his clothes. "Uh... A lot. A lot of gas, a trick staircase that turns into a slide when you try to climb it... A pit filled with piranhas, uh... Oh, a romantic swan ride that was anything but romantic... And then we got to the Clown Prince and his lady killer and wound up losing him. I don't even know how that happened." He sighed as he pulled his t-shirt over his head; the upper half of the suit had been rolled down around his waist. "I'm ever going to another carnival for a while after this."

Johnny: Johnny decided not to fill him in on the rest of the carnival. He’d see it on the news eventually, no doubt, and he was pretty sure Peter had enough on his plate without that. He, personally, wished that he hadn’t been there for it, as the sight of the smiling bodies felt like the kind of thing that would linger way longer than he wanted it to. “There...did you say piranhas?” He tried not to pointedly stare as Peter changed, so he crawled across the bed and leaned down to snatch his hat back off the floor instead. “What a couple of whack jobs.”

Peter: Peter hoped that Johnny had an easier time on the outside, but that probably wasn't the case judging from how the carnival grounds looked when they made it out of that freak show. But Johnny didn't say anything about it—that was probably for the better. He wasn't entirely too sure how much more he could hear. "Yeah, man, piranhas. Cap was practically bait, but Bobby and I managed to fish him out." When the mask was off the puns were something of a nervous twitch—that and his stutter—but a grin found its way onto his face when he turned just in time to see Johnny locate the hat he had thrown so unceremoniously before. "You can say that again."

Johnny: Johnny waited until Peter could see him roll his eyes before he did it. Fish him out. Was he positive he liked him? Really, really? The dumb little smile on Peter’s face was a quick and unfortunate reminder that the answer was yes. “But everybody...got out okay, right?” Peter didn’t look hurt, and he hadn’t seen emergency personnel really going for anyone coming out of the funhouse, either.

Peter: Peter looked away, but not without offering a small, weak laugh as he pulled out his pair of jeans from the bag. "Yeah, everyone's fine. Well. As fine as they can be after that. I think Cap got the worst of it..." He sighed when he thought about MJ and the rest of the hostages-that was one load off his chest that he didn't need to think about. "Sue okay?" He asked as he kicked off the rest of the suit and tugged on the jeans.

Johnny: “She’s good, but I think uh...I think I’m gonna stay away from her for a day or two or she might kill me. You, too, maybe.” She’d been watching beside Johnny when Peter had his big reveal, after all. Johnny got up and paced over toward his closet then back again. The talking part has to happen. He felt it bubbling up like some annoying...thing that bubbled. “So...about this kissing.”(edited)

Peter: "Oh," he started as he did the zipper and fastened the button. He shoved his hands into his pockets to push them down and flatten them out. "Oh man... I forgot about that. Uh, yeah, good idea. If she doesn't kill me, someone else will. My bets are on Aunt May." Peter had just crouched down to fold up his suit when Johnny started the talking part. He paused briefly, shoved his suit into the bag and stood while shoving his hands into his pockets once more. "You're not about to tell me I suck at it, are you?" The tease was there, but any confident tone had jumped out the window.

Johnny: “I think you can at least expect a good, hard slap on the head in the future.” Based only on his own immediate desire to do that as soon as Peter had thrown years worth of secret-ing in the garbage in two seconds. Johnny tapped his finger against his chin like he was really contemplating his answer, but finally gave a one armed shrugged. “Eh, I guess you were alright.”

Peter: "I can practically feel it already," he returned as he rubbed the back of his head absently. Peter sighed. "Everyone in the fun house was going to find out eventually... How was I supposed to know that Bozo the clown was broadcasting us live?" Peter's laugh was more of a scoff, though it was silenced by the way he tugged on his bottom lip with his teeth. Talk, don't joke. This wasn't the time for that. He balled his hands into fists before releasing them, as if that was the green light for him to just go for it. "I-I like you, Johnny..." He took a step forward and his hands slipped out from his pockets. "I like this kissing," a nervous laugh escaped him. "I-I just like being with you... I always have." He had wrung his hands together now that they were no longer buried in his jean pockets and he had closed some distance between the two of them. "I want to be with you... If my 'alright' kissing hasn't ruined that for you, I mean." One last tease, one last sheepish grin.

Johnny: Johnny was almost as famous for his string of failed relationships as he was for the whole “flying fire guy” thing. He’d never been able to make anything stick, even when he was pretty sure he actually liked the other person. There had been plenty of dumb choices tossed in for good measure, too, like Daken. But this was Peter. It was different. It had to be different. If Peter could be serious about it for two minutes, he could make himself do the same. Once he was close enough, Johnny reached out and grabbed both of the other’s hands, pulling him forward again. “I think we’re a good team. And my kissing is excellent enough to carry both of us.” Alright, maybe not totally serious.

Peter: The only relationship that truly worked was the one with MJ-and that one still ended anyway. The one with Gwen had ended much too abruptly and Peter couldn't help but to still blame himself for that. His responsibility had always kept him from pursuing something meaningful, kept him from enjoying a more normal life. Maybe it was time to stop looking for something 'normal'? After all, he was anything but. There was just another level of risk-well, a different level of risk, like Johnny disappearing for a few days only to return with no memory of the events and with bruises all over his body. Something like that. They were a good team. Even though Johnny was a hot head, Peter never had much issue fighting by his side. He trusted him, completely, in every sense of the word. He let Johnny pull him closer and rolled his eyes at the comment, "Well that's a relief. I don't know what I'd do if that was a deal breaker."

Johnny: “I’m a generous guy. I’ll teach you.” He broke into a wide grin and moved one hand up along Peter’s jaw before leaning to kiss him again. How long could he get away with doing that before he had to deal with the fallout from the funhouse? A couple more minutes, surely. So Johnny wound his other arm around his waist and kept him there close enough for their chests to touch.

Peter: "Aren't I lucky..." Peter commented, though he was wholly distracted when Johnny touched him again and kissed him back eagerly. He couldn't imagine how many text messages and emails and phone calls were piling up on his cell, which was sitting untouched in his back pack ever since he had been called in to the funhouse. He didn't want to think about that right now, especially not when Johnny had pulled him closer still. One of Peter's arms found itself around Johnny's shoulders, his fingers crawling up ever so slightly to reach the blonde baby hairs at the nape of his neck.

Johnny: Chills ran down his spine as he felt Peter’s roaming fingers. He wasn’t so bad at it, after all. As soon as he found one of his own hands sliding down the other’s side, catching the fabric of his shirt, he broke the kiss again and cleared his throat. “You know normally I’m not one to break up a party but...I think maybe you owe Aunt May a call.”

Peter: Every time things started to get a little too hot, Johnny would pull away. That was probably for the best. Peter didn't think he'd be able to handle anything else, at least not right now. Swallowing, he nodded, "Yeah... Yeah, I need to do that." Though he didn't remove himself from Johnny's embrace right away; Aunt May was going to rip him a new one, he just knew it, and that wasn't exactly something he was eager to rush into. Peter hesitantly unwound himself from Johnny's arms and moved to grab his cell from his bag. "Oh my god," he groaned when he saw the lock screen. "I'm a dead man."

Johnny: That was...yeah, that was pretty much what he expected to hear. “At least you’ll go out on a high note,” he offered with a little grin. But he did feel some pity for him. Dumb as it was, it had been an accident that his cover got blown to everyone and not just the 8 random strangers he’d revealed it to in the funhouse.

Peter: Peter shot Johnny a look before he unlocked the phone. Ignoring everything else (which was a little difficult to do at the frequency of messages he was receiving), he pulled open the missed call list and hesitated over her contact before pressing the green call button. At one point, he found himself on the edge of Johnny's bed with a hand holding his head up and Aunt May going on in his ear. He even had to hold the phone away for a moment or two due to the elevation of her voice. "No, wai- Aunt May, Ma- I'll be there, I'll- Y-Yes, yes. No. No, l- I'm fine, honest. I promise. Okay-okay." He sighed. "I'll see you soon, promise, love y-" Peter looked down at his phone dejectedly and sighed again. "Well she's not happy."(edited)

Johnny: For at least part of the conversation, Johnny stepped out of the room and filled up two glasses of water in the kitchen. He came back just for the very end of that conversation, which sounded like it had gone about as well as he expected. “You probably scared the hell out of her.” He offered one of the glasses to Peter and sat down next to him, taking a long drink. “Come on, Pete. She’ll forgive you. You know she will.”

Peter: He took the glass offered and nodded, "Thanks..." She would forgive him. She loved him too much, but that wasn't going to magically fix the fact that he kept this from her, willing to put himself in harm's way to protect innocent people. She was devastated. "She's beyond freaked," Peter commented before all but chugging his water down. He hadn't realized how much he needed that. "I gotta see her... Talk to her about all this. A phone call's not gonna cut it."

Johnny: “Easier said than done. Now that everyone knows who you are, these NOVA creeps are gonna have it out for you.” And considering they had checkpoints set up everywhere that could possibly be a way out of the city, dodging them wasn’t easy. “Spider-Man hasn’t exactly stopped Spider-Maning.” Which meant Peter had broken the hell out of all kinds of laws.

Peter: Peter set the glass between his knees and buried his face in his hands. He groaned; it was a frustrated and drawn out sound, one that filled the room. "Which means they're probably already staking out my apartment, waiting for me to show up..." His words were muffled by his hands, but they dropped suddenly and he uttered out a curt and angry 'fuck'. Peter hung his head before shaking it at Johnny. "I can't stay here, either... They'll expect that now."

Johnny: Johnny made an indignant sound. “You don’t think I’ve been a target for random jerks and supervillains for the however many years? Give me a break, Webhead. You’re safer here than you’re getting anywhere else. I’ve got Reed Richards’ tech all up in this place.” And what was the alternative? Where was he going to go?

Peter: "You really think Reed's tech is going to stop them?" He asked pointedly. He hoped it would, but judging by their means to catch mutants, it seemed unlikely that Mr. Fantastic's security system would hold them off for long. The glass was in his hand again and he finished off what little water was left. "Fine, fine," he uttered as he stood, frustration setting in, and started off towards the kitchen. He didn't have many other options right now, and he was too tired to argue.

Johnny: “Maybe it won’t stop them completely, but it’ll give you a better shot at getting out ahead.” Judging by his tone, Johnny was going to be stubborn about it, too. It was only by some miracle that Peter gave up so fast. Johnny followed him into the kitchen and as soon as he was still enough, caught him at the waist from behind and pulled until Peter’s back was against his chest. “Hey. We got this, alright? Your stupid is my stupid now.”

Peter: NOVA knew everyone now - they knew who he had worked with, who had tried to kill him; they knew his family now. They knew who would try to help him. Peter was used to fighting bad guys dressed up like animals, not huge government agencies hell bent on ridding the world of anyone not completely human. This was different, so he couldn't help but feel completely against Johnny's offer for him to stay there. Peter had set the glass down on the counter just before he felt Johnny behind him. He sighed, eyes closing at the touch and leaned back against him. He willed himself to chuckle and dropped his hands to rest over Johnny's, "You can say that again..." A beat. "Thanks." He gave Johnny's hands a gentle squeeze.

Johnny: “I’ll see if I can figure out a way to get you back to New York, yeah? I’ve probably got some favors I can call in. The kind with private jets.” Just because superheroes didn’t have the freedoms they once did didn’t mean that Johnny’s regular old human friends in the film industry had to abide by the same rules. “Tomorrow,” he added, after giving it a few more seconds. “Unless you just really don’t want to stay in this incredibly nice apartment, in the very comfortable bed, with the handsome, hilarious, talented man standing behind you right now.”

Peter: Peter smiled then as Johnny continued - he didn't want Johnny to be more involved than he had to, but it was too late now. And what was a few more feet into their graves anyway? "Tomorrow," he agreed with a nod, before biting his bottom lip in contemplation. "Well, when you put it that way, how could I say no?"

Johnny: “Then there’s nothing more you can do until then.” He’d make some calls later, see what he could figure out, but now that his conscience was clear about not making Peter’s personal life worse...”Except get really distracted, which I happen to be skilled at providing.”

Peter: No, he supposed there wasn't much else to do, and worrying wasn't going to help fix anything. It would only make him feel sick. A distraction sounded nice, though. "A little too skilled, if you ask me. What did you, uh, have in mind?"

Johnny: Johnny drummed his fingers against the countertop like he was carefully considering their options. “Hmmm...you could...come over here...” he tugged Peter toward the sofa in the living room. As he sat down, he pulled the other so that he was nearly in his lap. “If I say Netflix and Chill are you gonna slap me?”

Peter: Johnny seemed to have a one track mind ever since they got back to the apartment; Peter couldn't blame him. He knew what it was like to finally have someone in his arms after pining for them for god knows how long. Hell, he was feeling that now, and as much as he wouldn't admit it out loud, it was a good distraction. Peter wrapped his arms around Johnny's shoulders and rolled his eyes at the suggestion. "As much as I want to... No. You get a free pass this time."

Johnny: “Oh man, you really are out of it. You’ve known me long enough to realize giving me a free pass is a horrible idea.” He grinned up at him and let one hand settle on the outside of Peter’s thigh with a loose grip. He’d thought about doing exactly what they were doing more times than he wanted to say for much longer than he wanted to say, but every time it popped into his head he’d pushed it somewhere else. The timing was never right, the risk was never worth it. Yada yada. Part of him was a little glad that Peter had screwed up royally enough to make him panic and finally go for it.

Peter: "I know. I already regret it," he returned. Peter didn't actually regret it, even if he had years of experience that told him that he should. This whole day felt insane. It didn't feel real - and he had experienced some pretty messed up stuff. But he still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that Johnny had a huge thing for him. Even now as Peter sat in his lap with heart thumping louder than it had back at the funhouse. "So, what do you, uh, wanna watch... Or, I guess not watch?"

Johnny: Johnny reached for the remote for the illusion of nothing else. His hands wandered idly up and down Peter’s leg as he navigated the menu and eventually clicked on literally the first suggestion, which happened to be some cake decorating show. At least it wasn’t something he was actually interested in. As soon as the intro music started to play, he snaked his arms around Peter’s waist and looked up at him, ”So tell me more about this massive crush that Spider-Man has on me.“

Peter: It didn't surprise Peter that Johnny wasted no time, completely just bypassing he absently put on - the 'Chill' part of 'Netflix and Chill' was shoved to the forefront. The question Johnny threw out caused Peter to look away; he found a spot on the couch just behind Johnny's head, taking note of the clean stitching there. He couldn't necessarily pin down when it had first come about - he was sure he had always had feelings for Johnny, they just were never so apparent before. He always had a fondness for the blonde, even if he was a complete pain in the ass. Peter wouldn't have it any other way. He worried at his bottom lip and shrugged lamely, grateful for the smirk on his face. It helped to ease the blush that crept up his cheeks. "I wouldn't call it massive," he chaffed, though his smirk softened and he shrugged again. "It, uh, it kind of snuck up on me, if I'm being honest. I don't really know when it, uh... When it all changed, but," Peter shook his head.

Johnny: “And you were just, what, gonna keep climbing in my window and not saying anything until one of us died?” To be fair, Johnny had done little better, but since he’d finally been the one to take some initiative he’d earned the right to give him some hell. As the noticeable flush colored Peter’s face, Johnny’s grin widened and he followed the line of his arm and neck all the way up until he had his hand cupped around the other’s cheek. “You look a little warm, Petey. Or is it just me?”

Peter: To be honest, Peter didn't know what he was going to. Any time he had a moment to really think about it, something else came up. His life didn't hold much for long-lasting relationships, or even just relationships in general, no matter how hard he tried. "Well, no, but that seems to be how my life works out anyway, huh," he joked, even though that was far more depressing than he had intended it to be. Someone either died or broke up with him because his double life wasn't worth the heartache (and headache). "It's not like I avoided talking about it on purpose." But he also didn't try, so he supposed that was on him. That grin had gotten Johnny in trouble more times than Peter could count, and it was about to get him into trouble again, but it was lucky enough that Peter's brain seemed to turn to mush whenever Johnny touched him. It wasn't fair. "I think it's just you," he returned; it really was just Johnny. He was the reason why Peter's face was hot with nerves. It really wasn't fair.(edited)

Johnny: If he’d had any doubts about what he felt for Peter, they’d been put to rest the night he’d stayed after Johnny woke up on the side of the road. Peter was the only person he’d wanted there and that...stuck. “I’d be a little disappointed if it was anybody else.” He traced his thumb over the other’s cheek before tilting his head enough to kiss him. “So, ya know, if you’re blushing like that for some other sap...tell me now.”

Peter: Peter grinned, "Lucky for you, I'm an introvert, so there really isn't anyone else." After Johnny kissed him, Peter leaned back a little and frowned, though he smiled regardless - it hadn't meant to be serious anyway. "Do you..." He paused, if only for a rogue laugh that escaped him. "Do you think I have suitors lined up or something? No, y'know, you're right," he started and rested a hand on Johnny's chest as he nodded. "There is someone else..." Peter reached into his back pocket and fished out his cell, pressed a few times and turned the screen to show Johnny a photo of himself lit up against the night sky. "I mean, we're just starting out," he said between small laughs. "But I don't think it'll really go anywhere 'cause he's a little too into himself. You know those 'superhero' types."

Johnny: “Now see, what I’ve heard about this guy is that he earned that ego with his undeniable wit and charm.” He clicked his tongue, laying his hand over his to support the phone. Well, kind of. Mostly it was just to touch him again. “But that he’s a little tired of being on the market, so this might be your shot.”

Peter: Peter shoved his tongue against the inside of one of his cheeks as he mulled over Johnny's comment, "Uh huh. Sure. But I don't think you know him like I do." Smooth. Real freaking smooth. Unable to help himself, he bit down on his bottom lip. "Okay," he nodded. "I think I'll take that shot..." Slowly, he lowered the hand that was holding onto his phone before he leaned in and caught Johnny's mouth with his own. The arm he had wrapped around Johnny's shoulders raised its hand so he could cup the back of Johnny's neck as he deepened the kiss. The phone fell silently onto the couch cushion beside them.

Johnny: “I hope you have better aim than common sense,” he managed to get in before Peter was kissing him. How long would it take to get used to that? Johnny was pretty sure he’d stared at his mouth a hundred times, just thinking about it. He let one hand settle on the small of Peter’s back and the other on his stomach. This time, he didn’t stop himself as his fingers wandered just beneath the hem of his shirt to barely touch skin.

Peter: Peter’s aim was impeccable, but Johnny was right—he didn’t have much common sense. Street smarts, sure, and a brilliant intellect, but common sense? He didn’t have any before the spider bite and he definitely didn’t have any now. Especially when he shouldn’t be diving headfirst into this the way that he was. But life was short, and Peter knew that firsthand, so any common sense he did have jostling around in his brain was thrown out the window. He could feel Johnny’s fingers slip just beneath the hemline of his tee; it gave way to a pause between the kiss, just a small break before Peter leaned in to reconnect them again. He supposed he was throwing caution out that window, too.

Johnny: Johnny tended to be a “too much, too fast” kind of guy in pretty much every area of his life. Always had been. It was a difficult thing to temper, but he was determined to keep himself in check, to be content with a little even if he wanted a lot. So he kept on kissing him. Maybe a little more greedily than before. His hand did wander a little, running up Peter’s side and over his stomach. He couldn’t not touch him.

Peter: Peter had never been with a guy before. Nothing past fumbling kisses, but he wanted this, he wanted to be with Johnny; he had for a hot second, even if he had never made that spectacularly clear before - and Johnny wanted the same thing. Eagerly, judging by the way his hand continued to wander under his shirt to touch him. He didn't really have a second to protest (not that he really wanted to, even if it made sense to ease off the gas just a smidge) before he fervidly deepened the kiss at the feeling of Johnny's fingers against his skin. Peter's hand grasped at Johnny's tank again, just at his chest, while his other hand had its fingers buried in the blonde hair. He had cupped the back of Johnny's head, but felt the need to pull away as if he needed a breather - he didn't, but he couldn't think right with Johnny's warm hand on him. It felt good, better than any other time he had touched him before. Peter wanted that heat everywhere.

Johnny: As Peter broke the kiss, Johnny looked up and stilled his hand where it rested halfway up his chest. “Sorry,” he said quietly, curling his fingers like he meant to pull them back. “Too much?” Don’t be selfish,  hothead.

Peter: It was and it wasn't. Peter wanted all of it - he knew he had wanted it, on some level, for some time now, but he hadn't exactly realized how badly that yearning was until Johnny actually touched him like that. Peter only really had to think about it for a second - he shook his head. "No," he whispered. His eyes lowered their gaze to Johnny's mouth. "It's okay..."

Johnny: “It’s your call.” Johnny knew what he wanted. He’d spent...well, he’d spent a lot of time thinking about it, and there were no doubts left. He also wasn’t the one who’d had the most screwed up day ever, either. He bowed his head a little and pressed his lips against the side of Peter’s arm as his hand started to wander again.  He was fine just touching him without any pretense, without waiting for one of them to be hurt or need some kind of help to give him an excuse.

Peter: This really was his call, wasn’t it? If he told Johnny to stop, he’d listen (for once), but he wasn’t about to test that especially when he didn’t want him to stop in the first place. So as Johnny started back up again with his wandering fingers, Peter quietly mulled over a decision — he leaned back and pulled him down onto the couch with him. The movement was quick, but Peter took pause to look over Johnny’s face (and to ease his nervous smile), as if gauging for a reaction, before he closed the distance between their mouths again.

Johnny: That felt like more of a go-ahead that Peter’s hesitant answer before. Johnny ran both his hands up his sides, sliding Peter’s shirt halfway up over his stomach in the process. If his own skin was a little warmer than usual, he didn’t notice. After awhile, he moved his attentions from Peter’s lips to his jaw and, eventually, the side of his neck.

Peter: Yeah. This was a nice distraction. He couldn't help the content sound that escaped him when Johnny took advantage of the green light he had given him. His one hand all but outright refused to leave Johnny's hair while the other rested easily on his hip. Peter's legs were another matter - one hung limply off the edge of the couch while the other wrapped eagerly around one of Johnny's. When Johnny reached his neck, his toes curled. Peter lolled his head to the side to make it easier; he sighed again and the hand at Johnny's hip slipped suddenly under the hem of his tank top.

Johnny: Again, he was faced with the dilemma of pacing himself and enjoying the moment for what it was rather than rushing things along. The quiet sound Peter made was a pretty good incentive to keep at what he was doing, though. He’d certainly never heard anything like that from him before. Johnny kept his attention on the other’s neck, peppering it with soft affection. As he felt the little pull at his hem he dipped his head lower and held the top of  Peter’s shirt aside to kiss along his collarbone.

Peter: Peter would up with his head back, chin tilted up towards the ceiling and eyes closed. This was a whole lot more than what he thought today had in store - it was just supposed to be a fun carnival day, a nice relaxer. Despite the shit he went through, this was a pretty good ending to it all. His brows furrowed then when Johnny reached his collarbone and he groaned, "You'll stretch the neck hole..." It was more of a whine than anything, though it was heavily distracted by the way that Johnny was kissing him. Not to mention the hint of a smile could be heard in his voice. Normally he wouldn't care too much about shirts, or clothes in general. But this was a nice shirt.

Johnny: “You can have one of my shirts. They’re better anyway.” He grinned against Peter’s skin, pressing one more kiss along his collarbone. He sat up a moment later and pushed up the bottom of his shirt. “You could make it easier and just...take it off.” God he wanted him to. It’s not like he hadn’t seen him plenty of times without it, but it was different like this.

Peter: Peter had to laugh at that. "You said 'have'... That means I get to keep it." When Johnny leaned back and looked down at him, he suddenly felt very nervous again. It was different when they were kissing - he didn't have Johnny's eyes on him. Peter bit down on his bottom lip and smiled, "I could." He agreed before propping himself up on his elbows. "Or you could do it for me..."

Johnny: “Yeah, yeah, you can keep it.” A small price to pay if he got to keep kissing him. Johnny was very attached to his clothes, but for the moment he was much more attached to the idea of being able to touch him. He raised an eyebrow at the suggestion. “I could. I...yep, that’s definitely something I could do.” Johnny eased his hands beneath Peter’s shirt again and tugged it up until he had it off and tossed aside into the floor. Once he was able, he coasted his fingers up over the other’s bare chest and shoulders.

Peter: He laughed again; that was too easy. Peter wouldn't be surprised if he tried to back track later on, but hey, any little victory he supposed. He was more amused than anything. His amusement died down though once his shirt was banished to the floor and Johnny's hands were on him again. Peter's own hands lifted to rest on Johnny's forearms and slipped up past his elbows. Peter so desperately wanted to kiss him again, if only to keep Johnny's eyes off of him. He quite enjoyed the gaze on him, but he grew too red for his own liking. He shied a little, no doubt.

Johnny: Letting one hand rest on Peter’s chest and the other settle on his side, Johnny lowered himself enough to kiss him again. It might have been a little more needy and insistent than before, but it was hard to see Peter like that and totally keep his cool about it. Not that he was particularly skilled at doing that anyway. Typically by that point, Johnny would’ve just followed the lead of where his body was telling him to go, but this was Peter. He couldn’t just be that blasé about it.

Peter: The incessant nature in which Johnny kissed him was not lost on Peter. He returned with fervor while both of his hands found themselves occupied - one engaged with Johnny's hair while the other settled itself under his tank top, on his side. He knew better than to dive head first without really thinking, but - fuck. The only thing he could think about was how Johnny still had his shirt on. He didn't want it on. So with the one hand, Peter pushed up on Johnny's tank.

Johnny: As he felt Peter move his shirt, Johnny broke the kiss and pulled back just enough to yank it over his head. As he let go of it and sent it sailing across the room, there was a little orange glow around his hand that he quickly forced out. Once he was sure he wasn’t about to inflict some second degree burns, he reached for Peter again and ran his hands up his stomach and over his chest, pausing with a hand on either shoulder. “It’s uh,” he cleared his throat, his fingers ghosting across skin, “I’m glad I can finally look at you.”

Peter: In the moment, everything moved slowly, but by the time Peter could really think about what they were doing, they were both shirtless. There really wasn't anything he could complain about, especially not shirtless Johnny Storm. Nope. He was the cherry on top of this crappy day, and honestly, the cherry was his favorite part. There was a smile on Peter's face when he caught the sudden rise of heat from Johnny's hand; he tried to soften the expression by biting down on his bottom lip, but Johnny's little bout of nerves only caused him to smile more. "I'm glad I can make Johnny Storm hot and bothered..."

Johnny: Johnny rolled his eyes so hard he dipped his head back and groaned. “Yeah, yeah, you got jokes...” which unfortunately was one of the things he liked about him. He bowed his head and let his teeth catch Peter’s skin at the base of his neck just enough for him to feel it. “Guess it’s my turn to figure out how to get your spider sense tingling then. Or some different ones.”

Peter: Despite the fact that his head was against the cushion of the couch, he tilted it and grinned up at Johnny. There was a cheekiness to the look he gave him as he uttered out a curt and sheepish laugh, "Too many, if you ask me." Or literally anyone else. His jokes got him into trouble more times than he could remember. The contented groan that came with Johnny's little nip turned into an exasperated one at the pun he threw out; Peter smacked his hand to his forehead before he wrapped his arms around Johnny's shoulders to pull him close. "Some different ones, please," he started as his hands wandered the expanse of Johnny's back. "I don't need you to ruin 'spider sense' for me." Honestly, it was a little late for that.

Johnny: “Well now I have to.” Johnny leaned to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. His hands slid up Peter’s sides again until he had one hand resting on the side of his neck. “Wanna play chicken?” He grinned down at him and raised his eyebrows, “I’ll do something and you tell me if you get your super special tingle.”

Peter: “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Peter groaned, but the exasperated sound was softened by the smile that came with Johnny’s quick kiss. He lifted a brow at the suggestion, already wary, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. He still mulled it over, though, even going as far as to drum his fingertips against Johnny's back. “Only if you promise to never, ever call it my ‘super special tingle’ again.”

Johnny: He gave an exaggerated sigh, “Fine. I’ll come up with something better.” And in the mean time, he’d just got the go ahead to...do something, right? He nipped at Peter’s jaw again before shifting his whole body down a little, giving him the space to kiss a little lower than before. His lips trailed down past his collarbone and over his chest as his hands wandered across Peter’s hips, feeling the lines of his body like he’d thought of doing...oh...a hundred times, probably.

Peter: Peter hummed happily; Johnny's promise likely wouldn't last very long, if at all, but the initial win was enough. He couldn't think about that for too long, not before Johnny was kissing him again - kissing down his neck, and chest, and hands roaming lower once they had the green light to do so. He couldn't help but to watch as Johnny traveled down his body. Super special tingle was right.

Johnny: Even if there was a nagging desire in the back of his mind to skip right to the highlight reel, Johnny didn’t want to give up a second of the first time he finally, for real, got to touch him. So he took an uncharacteristic amount of time for the build up, like he was enjoying it every bit as much (or more) as Peter. By the time he reached his stomach, his kisses were slower. Once he got to the place he’d been shot not that long before, he lingered over it, letting his lips map out the spot that had long since healed.

Peter: When Johnny traveled lower still, Peter's head dropped back to the couch and he closed his eyes. He nearly sighed, but thought better of it. The hand closest to the t.v. (which had decidedly continued on through the episodes) dropped down to hold onto the edge of the couch cushion. Peter hadn't realized he had been holding his breath as Johnny's lips danced across his skin. He also didn't realize that his mouth hung open, not until he swallowed before he broke the silence (though the baking in the background filled in the pockets nicely). "Y'know," he started, though cleared his throat when the word came out a little pitchier than expected. "I thought about it... And," he licked his lips, "I don't think I wanna tell you." Peter bit down on his bottom lip; if Johnny could feel his pulse, he'd know he could already feel that tingle. "You'll just use it for evil..." And it was evident in his voice; that is, if the goosebumps didn't give it away.

Johnny: Johnny looked up, but didn’t move from where he was. He let his chin rest against Peter’s hip instead, so that he he could see most of his body when he lifted his gaze. “That’s rude, Pete. I’m a hero. Not an evil bone in my body.” As he said it, he laid one hand over the waistband of the others pants, curling one single finger so that it barely rested beneath the fabric to touch his skin. “Come oooon.” That sounded a little more like whining.

Peter: Peter looked down when Johnny replied and planned on throwing a quip in return, but his smirk softened considerably. It almost died completely before he could drop his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. He barked out a nervous laugh; his hand gripped the couch cushion a little harder. That, that did it. The whine just made everything worse. "I'm not convinced..."

Johnny: “Peeeete.” Johnny’s expression could only be described as pouting. He looked at him for a second longer before blowing out an exaggerated huff of breath and pressing his forehead against Peter’s stomach.

Peter: The whine was the same, but Peter could practically hear Johnny pouting. He snuck a glance down, but only in time to see Johnny hide his face. Adorable. Peter briefly bit down on his bottom lip as his free hand lowered to bury itself in Johnny's hair. He gave it a gentle pull.

Johnny: He pressed his lips against the space just below his belly button and looked up at him as he felt the tug at his hair. “You’re the evil one,” he decided. “So much for all that noble goodness.”

Peter: "Me?" He asked, feigning innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about." His hand released its hold on Johnny's hair and dropped so he could brush a fingertip down the side of Johnny's face.

Johnny: He moved suddenly, pinching Peter’s side between his thumb and index finger. “Yeah, you, Webhead. But fine. Keep your dumb secrets. I’ll have fun anyway.” With that, he went back to kissing him, and in a few moments had tugged his pants a little lower, showing him a space of skin he was positive he’d never seen before. He followed the line of his right hip with his lips, feeling his own pulse quicken a little as he did.(edited)

Peter: The pinch was enough to get Peter jumping, just a little, and snorting out a small laugh. Johnny didn't really have to do much at all, which was the main reason he was keeping it from him. It was too easy. He'd think he was touch starved. Peter's brows had set down, furrowing between them when Johnny had pulled down his pants, just enough for a new band of skin to be visible. There really weren't a lot of those left. He had watched him, then, kissing lower still and so he couldn't help but say his name as his head lowered back to the couch. The name had been quiet, almost a whisper; it wasn't supposed to be a warning. It was accompanied by Peter's hand digging itself in Johnny's hair - it liked being there. It preferred to be there.

Johnny: He’d heard Peter say his name in pretty much every way he’d thought was possible. He’d heard it while he was laughing, heard it angry and exasperated. He’d heard him say it when he was relieved or worried. He’d heard it hissed at him and shouted. But that whisper, the way he’d said it right then...that was new. It was new and it was, without a doubt, his favorite. Johnny smiled to himself when he heard it and was determined not to let it be the last time. He slid one hand up along the front of Peter’s thigh and caught the waist of his pants again. Little by little, he gave himself more to work with, peppering each newly exposed bit of  skin with kisses and attention along the way. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said quietly, once they were closer to the point of...well, closer to the point of no return.

Peter: Peter tended to have the worst timing when it came to his emotions - he didn't know how to control them all too well. He felt too much, all the time, and even now while Johnny (god, Johnny, of all people) kissed down his body and pulled at his jeans he felt guilty. The news hit hard and Peter knew there was no way he could see to it that everyone was safe - that MJ was safe, that the rest of the impromptu funhouse team was okay. They were; they'd be fine. He deserved something good, something he'd thought about plenty before, and yet he still didn't believe it. For once, he supposed, he needed to be selfish, if only for this moment. There wasn't anything else he could do, so acting on this (finally) was permitted. He wanted this. He wanted Johnny. He didn't want guilt to get in the way - not again. Peter shook his head, "I don't..."

Johnny: He didn’t want him to stop. Well, what more did he need than that? Johnny still found himself biting his lip, wondering if he really should call it there, wait until he knew Peter’s head was clear. It was hard to ignore the very loud voice in his head telling him that he was an absolute idiot, but he did ignore it, somehow. Johnny sat up on his knees and swallowed, looking down at him almost apologetically. “We should stop,” he was still trying to convince himself. “For today. Just...just for today.” Idiot. There it was again. He ran his hand over Peter’s knee. “I don’t want you to regret it.” Had he ever had this debate with himself? Had he ever gotten that far into it and just pulled back? Probably not. “Don’t hate me.”

Peter: And just like that, it was over. Johnny didn't want him to regret it, which was completely valid, but—no. No, he had a point. They shouldn't be rushing into this, not after everything that just happened. This wasn't just some fling. That didn't mean that Peter wasn't disappointed. When Johnny sat up, the hand that was in his hair dropped and he slung that arm over his own forehead; he hid his eyes behind his forearm and laughed, though it very easily turned into a groan. "Oh, man..." he started and rubbed at his face as he shook his head; that was a turn he hadn't expected to happen. "Now I definitely feel like I stepped through some portal to an alternate universe... I dunno, might hate you just a lil' bit..." Peter sighed before he sat up and rested an elbow on the back of the couch. He was quiet, just for a second, before he hid his face in the hand that had propped his head up and laughed softly. "You're a tease..."

Johnny: For his part, Johnny did look very apologetic. He’d been just as into what he was doing as Peter was, and if a cold shower ever actually did much for him he might’ve gone to take one. As it was, he just gave him a kind of sheepish smile. “I think that’s the only time in my life I’ve been called a tease. First time for everything, I guess.” At least he didn’t seem genuinely mad, right? Johnny eased off of him and sat down too. When he sighed, it came out a little heavier than he’d intended. “Don’t hate me too much. I’ll...make it up to you, when things aren’t so dumb.”

Peter: Peter caught his bottom lip and ran his hand through his own hair - for once. "Glad I could do that for you," he laughed, voice soft. When Johnny removed himself from off of his lap, Peter adjusted himself so he could pull his jeans back on. It really felt like he should be taking them off, but maybe when he went to the bathroom. That seemed to be the place to be, at least for now. Peter shook his head as he stood. "I'll hold you to it," he commented before leaning down to catch Johnny's mouth in a kiss. "I gotta... go to the bathroom.. Be right back." He started to pull away; he just wanted to use the toilet, honestly, even though he desperately wanted a shower.

Johnny: Once Peter stepped away, Johnny ran his hands down his face and blew out a long, frustrated breath through the spaces between his fingers. “Why are you like this?” he asked aloud, though quietly enough to only be talking to himself. After a moment or two, he turned off the television and got up to walked back to the bedroom. It was late, after everything that had happened at the carnival and since they’d got back, and while he wasn’t exactly tired...he did kind of just want the reset button the next morning would offer.

Peter: The first thing that Peter did when he entered the bathroom was hide his face in his hands as he leaned against the door. That seemed like the sensible thing to do. After that, he turned on the faucet. He didn't expect anything, really. He didn't want Johnny to think that they had to do something. He wasn't mad, far from it—just high-strung. Once the sink was full enough of water (cold water, to be specific, otherwise it wouldn't give him much relief) and dunked his face into it. His shoulder slumped into a physical sigh, and he stayed like that for a few seconds before coming up for a breath. A shower seemed obvious and he was too tired to stand there for more than a few minutes; sleep sounded so good right now. He finished drying off and took a second to look himself over in the mirror. Everyone knew that face, the face that he woke up with every day. It was going to be a challenge, but there was nothing he couldn't handle before. At least, he hoped so. The door opened and he found Johnny already in the bedroom; the smile on his face was immediately sheepish. It was an automatic. "Ready for bed already?"

Johnny: “I uh, wasn’t in the mood to watch...” what the hell had it been? “Cupcake...Combat,” he ventured, though that didn’t sound right. Whatever. Nobody needed to see another spun sugar tower. Johnny rolled over onto his stomach and turned his head enough to look at Peter. “You gotta be tired. Come on,” he held out his hand without actually moving or getting back up again. “You know how comfortable this bed is.”

Peter: Peter knew that didn't sound right, but he didn't know enough about baking shows to dispute it—for all he knew, it was called Cupcake Combat. Not like it mattered, anyway. They weren't watching it. He still snorted anyway at Johnny's attempt, though. Yeah, he was exhausted. More so mentally than anything, but sleep sounded like a good way to let the day go so he removed his jeans (because sleeping in jeans definitely did not sound like the way to let the day go). He did indeed know how comfortable Johnny's bed was—it beat his springy, run down twin bed without question. "You don't have to tell me twice," Peter returned as he slipped himself under the covers and sidled up close to Johnny; he then closed his eyes and sighed as he practically melted into the mattress. He definitely needed this.

Johnny: Johnny was wearing as little as he could get away with, though not in purposefully cheeky way. He rarely slept in clothes, so putting on anything at all was really a favor for Peter. He just got too hot. Once Peter got closer, Johnny raised the arm closest to him and draped it over him. “See you in the morning, Webhead.”

Peter: Once Johnny’s arm casually rested across him, Peter returned the touch by laying a hand over Johnny’s forearm. His thumb brushed over the skin there slowly, absently, as if it were nothing but a lull to get him to sleep. He smiled at Johnny’s sign off, and gave his arm a gentle squeeze in acknowledgement. The faintest of laughs etched itself into his words, “’Night, hot stuff.”