“Another idea is where Thor decides to try courting Omega Peter, much to Tony's horror. Thor thinks Peter will be a good mother of his children. Peter is strong, smart and beautiful. Not to mention he's an unclaimed virgin Omega. He's perfect and Thor is going to have him. Of course Tony keeps cock blocking him and away from Peter.”
Thor is a relatively simple man. God. He’s a relatively simple God. He doesn’t want for anything, really. Life is pretty good. He’s the rightful King of Asgard but hopefully if Loki continues down the path of relative non-evilness, Thor would be happy to let him have the throne. Odin only knows that the people sure do love the green leathered God of Mischief now and that makes Thor happy. He’s happy when the people he loves are happy, and that makes life pretty good.
Okay, maybe saying he doesn’t want for anything is a little misleading. He does want something. One thing.
The spider is a welcome surprise. He doesn’t look like the other Omegas Thor has ever seen. He’s definitely prettier, and he smells sweet as the tulips that only bloom in the Asgardian winters outside the palace walls. Other Omegas are fragile, weak little things, but not Peter. Peter is small and dainty, but he’s strong, and even though Thor towers over him, he has one of those inklings that Peter could definitely pick up his hammer if he tried and that is…
A little worrying, if he’s honest.
He tries to keep it hidden away. It’s not like he really needs it now anyway.
When he’d first met Peter, in the days after the uproar, when all was settled and life was back to normal, in the bright afternoon light of the compound, he wasn’t sure what to expect. Being Stark’s protege, the little that Thor had seen was that the little spider was going to become another Stark. They were often tinkering away together in the labs, and Peter made enough quips and jokes and had a wry little smirk just like Tony. He’d expected sarcasm and a great many confusing science references to go over his head, but walking into the kitchen Peter had lit up and nearly dropped his mug.
“You’re Thor!” He’d exclaimed, bouncing on the heels of his feet excitedly, “oh man, this is- I’m Peter! You’re- you’re awesome! I mean-“ he makes a weird breathy sound through his teeth that Thor comes to realise is meant to be an attempt at thunder and he laughs boomingly.
“I know you, young Spider,” Thor had beamed. It’s nice to finally meet someone as friendly as he is, and Peter’s bright eyes and endless happiness was something that made Thor happy.
Their friendship hadn’t much progressed, though Thor had wanted it to.
The spider still goes to school, but he spends his weekends at the compound and he’s meant to be finishing school soon and he and Thor have even sparred together once.
Thor only uses hand to hand combat in such situations, and the Spider had been impossible to pin down. Wriggly and nimble (and incredibly flexible, the Alpha part of his brain had noted) and always with some unusual reference to a movie.
The one time Thor had managed a good hit, Peter had merely winced and reluctantly given him a point.
He’s probably the only Omega in the entire galaxy that wouldn’t perish from Thor’s touch. He tries to be gentle, really he does, but he has the strength of a thousand Asgardians and his hands are weapons and gentle touch is difficult and in his exuberance he can forget. Taking human lovers, let alone omega human lovers, has been impossible.
Peter, though, Peter could…Peter would make an excellent mother to their children.
His inner-Alpha purrs excitedly. Yes. That is his next goal. He wants to be a father, and he wants an Omega like Peter. No, he wants Peter. Peter is perfect. He’s strong and beautiful and graceful and clever. He’d be a perfect mother and then there would be heirs to the throne and Loki would be an Uncle and Thor would be a father and-
It’s all decided.
He goes to the person who knows the boy best.
“Stark!” He greets, ambling into the lab and cringing as he accidentally knocks a lot of glass off one of the tables.
Tony, after wincing at the sound of his voice, lifts his visor and sets down his tools with an exasperated, but fond look on his face. “What is it, Thor?”
Thor smiles and slides onto one of the stools. It creaks ominously under his weight and he waits to see if it will crumple, but it doesn’t. “Your spider,” he begins, voice excited and notices Tony’s expression change from soft and open to something a little tighter. He’s probably imagining it. “He is untouched, yes?”
Tony’s face does more complicated things, before the man repeats incredulously: “Untouched?”
Oh right, humans. “A virgin. He is a virgin Omega?”
Tony looks him up and down almost angrily. “Yeah, Thor, I think so. Why?”
“Perfect,” Thor beams, “not that it would matter of course, he’s wonderful, but it’s just better- especially when it comes to the future mother of the king, you know? I’m sure you earthlings have similar protocols.”
“Maybe in England,” Tony murmurs dubiously, before shaking his head, “Wait- are you telling me you’re planning on mating Peter?”
“Yes! Do you think he’ll say yes? I imagine he will.” Thor puffs out his chest. He doesn’t want to brag or anything, but he is a mighty defender of earth and nine other realms. He is a King, and he is of royal blood. He is richer and more powerful than human comprehension and on top of all that, he’s pretty attractive if he does say so himself.
One of the screw drivers in Tony’s hand bends ever so slightly and Thor blinks: impressed. He hadn’t realised the man of iron was so strong outside of his suit. “You are not mating Peter Parker,” he growls and Thor recoils a little from the venom in his voice.
“Oh? Is he spoken for..?” He asks curiously.
Tony bares his teeth then, all Alpha and angry, and Thor scrambles to his feet even though he could take him in a fight. He does not want to fight Tony. “Get out of my lab!”
Thor leaves and shakes his head. Humans are very complicated. Perhaps Tony, as a fellow Alpha, had felt threatened by the thought of his protege being taken away from him? That’s absurd, Peter could visit as often as he wanted. It would be better if he lived on Asgard, but if the pretty little thing was desperate to live on Earth, Thor wouldn’t object. He won’t steal the boy away from Tony, he rolls his eyes. Humans can be so possessive over their friends.
In the morning, he goes out bright and early and picks a fresh bouquet of flowers. Steve and Bucky pause from their morning run and wave at him. Well, Steve waves, Bucky looks him up and down dubiously. “Good morning, fellow avengers!” Thor greets merrily.
Steve half smiles, “hey, Thor. Are you picking flowers?”
“I am going to woo Peter. I would like to take him as my mate.”
Steve looks suddenly very carefully blank. “Oh uh…have you talked to Tony about that?”
“I have. I’m sure he’ll understand in due course that Peter will still be his friend.”
Bucky snickers into his palm the way that Loki does whenever he thinks Thor has missed something obvious.
It’s not a good sign.
Still, though, Thor tries to put it from his mind as he heads back inside with the tumbling bouquet of dandelions, foxgloves and hyacinths. He finds Peter in the kitchen, eating a bowl of crunchy chocolate things that float in milk and looking all soft and sleep ruffled in a shirt too big for him.
Thor would very much like to see him in some Asgardian robes. All the finest silks. Maybe he could even pull a few strings and find Peter a lovely gold helmet-
“Young Peter!” He smiles, bounding up to the counter and presenting the bouquet. He’s crushed the stems a little hard in his grip, but they still look pretty good, he thinks. Vibrant pinks and yellows. “I want to give you these flowers, though they pale in comparison to the sweetness of you.”
Bucky and Steve are watching from the doorway. Steve looks horrified and Bucky looks as though he might laugh himself sick.
Peter stares at the bouquet, before going pink all over, and reaching for them with his dainty little fingers. “For me?” He whispers, voice all pleased, “Thor, that’s-“
The flowers are yanked from Peter’s grip and immediately tossed into the sink, and doused in hot water.
Thor stares in disbelief and Peter lets out a little gasp.
“Mr Stark!” He exclaims, “those were-“
“I’m allergic to honeysuckle,” Tony says, voice apologetic. “I’m sorry, Pete. I’ll buy you some more flowers, if you like. You know I’d get you anything,”
Peter’s face goes pinker, and he ducks his head towards his cereal as Tony reaches out to squeeze the nape of his neck. Peter seems to lean into the touch and Thor frowns at the contact. He wants to reach out and touch. He’s about to, when Tony’s voice interrupts again-
“You should go shower, kid. We can go patrolling.”
Peter’s face lights up in amazement. “Can I hang from your suit?” He asks eagerly, with his big puppy-dog eyes and Tony smiles gently.
“Sure thing,”
Peter goes bounding off and Thor frowns.
“There were no honeysuckles in my gift,” he says, and Tony’s fond expression disappears into a much harder one. His brown eyes look over at Thor with irritation and Steve takes a sharp intake of breath from the doorway.
“My mistake,” Tony shrugs and Thor feels anger well up inside him. Electricity crackles around his fingers and Bucky takes a worrying step forward. Tony gives Thor a look. “Listen, pal, you don’t get to buy Peter flowers.”
Thor pouts. “But why? You said he was unclaimed-“
“I know I-“ Tony takes a deep breath, eyes closing as he pinches the bridge of his nose and Thor watches balefully. His flowers are all ruined in the sink, and he only got to receive Peter’s beautiful gratitude for about two seconds before Stark came in and ruined everything. “It’s complicated, Thor,” Tony whispers, tone meaningful. “Do you understand that? Can you just…back off?”
“But why?”
“Because I said so, that’s why!”
Thor’s eyebrows draw together, and he shakes his head. “Now Stark, I am a fair man. I like you and I like this place, but you are not the God of me. I am a King. You are not my leader.” His voice echoes in a low boom around the room, and everything falls silent. Peter is a perfect, wonderful Omega and Thor will not be bullied into dropping his courtship.
Tony doesn’t say anything back, and Thor nods, glad he got his point across.
So, flowers are a no-go.
But you can’t go wrong with a stunning set of daggers.
Or at least, that’s what Loki says when Thor asks him for help.
Thor looks down at his shiny set of purple blades as they sit against the black velvet, and thanks Odin that he has such a helpful little brother.
He’s about to go to Peter’s room and bequeath him, when he spots movement outside in the darkness. He frowns, peering out of the glass and into the starry field beyond, and he spots a lone figure.
There is only one figure that small.
He sets down his daggers and heads outside. His boots crunch against the gravel, and Peter looks up; eyes shiny with tears. It punches into Thor, a deep pain to see the boy like this, and he comes forward and stands beside him, and they look up into the stars together. “Young spider,” he whispers, not wanting to disturb the gentle breeze and the cricket-creatures.
“Thor,” Peter sniffles, and he nuzzles into Thor’s chest and Thor wraps his arms around him, as gently as he can, and it feels good to have Peter here like this, in his arms.
“What’s the matter?”
“Oh, nothing, it’s just-“ he pulls back, wiping his pretty face and half smiling, “it’s just the day my Uncle…it’s the anniversary of…”
His heart pangs again. “Peter,” he murmurs, stroking his fingers through Peter’s satin hair. “Loss is hard, believe me, I know. But you have lost at such a young age, and you are still here and you are so strong. It’s one of the things I admire most about you. Trust me, young spider,” he continues, wrapping his arm around Peter’s shoulder and gesturing up at the stars. “Your Uncle and my father are up there, somewhere, probably looking down on us now and laughing. Hello father,” he waves his hand up at the sky.
Peter looks at him in amusement, before ducking his head and laughing. He lifts his hand too, and waves shyly at the stars. “Hey, Uncle Ben,” he whispers, voice hitching a little, “I miss you so much.” Tears spill over onto his plump red cheeks again, and Thor pulls him in for another hug.
They both pull back a little, diamonds reflected in Peter’s eyes and Thor thinks this could be it. His moment. Without the blades or anything. He cups Peter’s face in his hand, and leans down slowly and-
“Peter,” comes a voice, and Thor bites back his frustration as they pull away to see Tony on the edge of the grass. He’s in his nightclothes and even from here, Thor can feel something radiating off him. It’s odd. It’s a familiar emotion. Like something he used to get from Loki- something like-
He stiffens.
Jealousy.
Oh. Oh. Tony is- but he can’t be. He would have said. Why hadn’t he said anything?
“Let me make you some pancakes, sweetheart,” Tony offers, and Thor feels Peter draw out of his arms and towards the other man. “I know today’s a hard one,”
Thor watches as Peter cuddles into Tony’s arms instead, and Tony guides him inside, but not before turning to shoot one more, scathing look at Thor who blinks in confusion.
He turns to the stars and frowns. “Father, if you are watching, you better not be laughing.” He warns.
He has a feeling that somewhere, Odin is.
“Wow,” Bucky and his metal arm say in the morning, “you’re still alive. I didn’t expect that.”
Thor’s eyebrows furrow together. “What does that mean?”
“It means you tried to kiss Peter and I’m surprised Tony didn’t kill you.”
Thor bristles. “He could not kill me. I’m thousands of years old.”
Bucky cocks his head and shrugs. “Wouldn’t that make it easier?”
Peter pads in next, eyes still a little red, but he smells like himself. Sweet, and omega, and like the tulips in winter. Thor pats the seat next to him despite Bucky’s warning glance, and Peter smiles, perching beside him and reaching for some berries. He eats them like a little bird, one at a time, and waves at Bucky who nods at him warmly.
“If you like these mortal berries,” Thor begins, “you would love the berries on the fringes of the Asgardian forest.”
Peter’s big brown eyes look up at him in amazement. “Really?” He whispers, in awe.
Thor nods, pleased. “But of course. I shall take you to Asgard. It is beautiful, more beautiful than you can even imagine. We have a city of gold and all the people are wonderful and you will never want to leave.”
“Another planet,” Peter whispers excitedly, just as Tony walks in. “Mr Stark! Can I go to Asgard with Thor? Please? Please?”
Thor doesn’t know why Peter needs permission, but perhaps it is like Strange said. Perhaps Peter is his ward. Tony can’t be courting him. He would have said something, stated his intention, and then Thor would have backed off. He’s a polite Alpha, and he abides by some gentlemen’s code. But Tony hadn’t. He’s just…weirdly possessive. Maybe he has something against Thor personally. Maybe it’s because of Loki.
It wouldn’t be the first time Loki had ruined his chances with a love interest.
Tony’s face instantly goes angry, and Bucky busies himself with buttering some toast and Thor watches curiously to see what Stark will do. “I dunno, bud,” he says eventually, voice purposely light, “it’s not exactly visiting a friend in another state, this is another planet.”
“But I’d be with Thor!” Peter insists, one of his hands resting on Thor’s bulging bicep. Tony and Thor immediately hone in on the touch. Thor beams, and Tony scowls. “He’d keep me safe! He’s the God of Thunder, Mr Stark!”
“This is true,” Thor chuckles, “your young protege will have nothing to fear with me around.”
“Loki tried to take over the Earth, and he lives freely on Asgard. It’s too dangerous.”
“Loki helped save the world, Mr Stark!” Peter pleads, his eyes big and round. “Pleeasse? I promise I won’t do anything dangerous, or wander off, I’ll even take the suit, and- it’s another planet!”
Tony’s body is tight with barely contained anger, but at Peter’s hopeful gaze, he seems to crumble. “I’ll think about it,” he concedes, and Peter cheers, nudging Thor happily and nibbling away at his berries.
Bucky is looking at Tony like he thinks he might combust.
The rest of breakfast is tense. Bucky and Peter make conversation, but Tony keeps glaring at Thor and it’s hurting his feelings, if the god is honest.
Only after Peter leaves to get changed, and Bucky hastily makes his own excuses, does Stark move to stand opposite Thor across the counter and look like he’s steeling himself. Thor briefly wonders whether he’s going to attack him. He hopes not. He doesn’t really like being attacked.
“I am courting Peter, Thor,” Tony whispers, like a confession.
Thor blinks. “Oh! Well, Stark! You didn’t say!” That does change things-
“He doesn’t know,” Tony admits gruffly, shoving his hands through his hair in frustration.
Thor frowns, wondering if Tony knows that- “It doesn’t count as courtship if the Omega hasn’t been made aware-“
“I know!” Tony snaps, angry at himself more than Thor, and Thor waits, hoping the man will elaborate. “Thor, on earth- you can’t start courting an Omega until they turn eighteen. Peter’s still seventeen. I can’t do anything yet.”
How strange these earthly rules are. “Really?” Thor shakes his head in amazement, “well then, of course, Tony, I will be happy to withdraw.”
Tony looks immensely relieved. “Really?” He asks, a little skeptical. “You’re not gonna…put up more of a fight than that?”
Thor chuckles. “You are my friend, man of iron. Though it’s true,” he sighs longingly, “Peter would have made a fine omega, and a wonderful bearer of future Asgardian Kings, you must be allowed your suit. If he rejects you, I shall continue my courtship.”
Tony looks affronted. “He won’t- he’s not going to reject me.”
Thor shrugs. “Look at you, look at me. He would be an actual queen.”
“Shut up, you big oaf,” Tony snaps, but there’s something soft in his voice. Soft and happy that Thor hasn’t heard in a long while.
It’s probably for the best that he has to pause in his pursuit of Peter, because Loki goes and tries to start another war against Sikaar, and Thor has to put out that fire.
By the time he comes back, there’s a dark blue mating bite on the spider’s neck, and Tony has never looked more pleased.
Thor smiles, nodding in acceptance and quietly retreating. It’s for the best then, perhaps. But- who knows? After Tony and Peter have been bonded for a while, Tony may feel less possessive.
It has to be a spider thing, but he can’t stop shivering and all he wants to do is bury himself in blankets and sleep for a whole month. He can’t even focus on what Mr Jenkins is saying because he’s too busy dreaming about unpacking that electric heater May bought him for Christmas last year when-
Thick, woollen heat is draped over his shoulders and he curls into it immediately with a grateful sigh of bliss, before blinking up and seeing Flash, a little awkwardly, standing above him.
Without a coat on.
He frowns, struggling to put it together as the snowflakes settle on his eyelashes and melt down his face. Why are they having an outside class in the snow? “Huh?” He asks in confusion, scrunching his nose up, and Flash just grits his teeth like this is paining him, and readjusts the coat so it tucks neatly under Peter’s chin.
He lets out a little moan at that. It’s so warm.
Flash clears his throat, stepping back and his eyes keep skirting away like he’s not sure where to look. If Peter didn’t know better, he’d say Flash looked…nervous? Uncomfortable? “It’s my coat, dipshit,” Flash sighs, stuffing his hand in his pocket and breathing out so the icy air hovers in front of his face for a second. “You look about three seconds away from freezing to death and I don’t need that shit on my conscience.”
Peter burrows into it and smiles, sniffling a little. “Thanks, Flash,” he says softly, “it’s so warm.”
Flash pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s the point, moron,” he sighs, muttering to himself as he heads over to join the front of the group. Peter’s not sure if this is all some sort of snow-driven hallucination, but he likes it.
Maybe he and Flash can actually be friends.
He makes sure to smile brightly the next day in school, as he heads over to Flash’s locker, coat in tow, and offers it out to him. “Hey man,” he beams, “thanks so much for-“
“Don’t mention it.” Flash scowls, yanking the coat back and shoving it into his locker. “I’m serious.”
“Oh.” Peter falters, wincing a little, “Sorry, I thought-“
“I don’t know what you thought,” Flash snapped, “but you were wrong. As usual, Penis Parker,” and then he shoves Peter’s shoulder as he pushes past.
Peter sighs. It seems that encounter in the snow was a one time thing.
Things go back to normal, until he catches the mother of all colds.
He shuffles his way into school anyway, because he loves school, and bundles up in as many sweaters as he can, sucking on lozenges and sneezing into tissues every five minutes. The other students give him a wider berth than usual, and he sits in the corner of the cafeteria, balefully pushing around the pizza on his plate. It looks good, but he doesn’t think his throat can take it and-
“Jesus, Parker. Seriously. Damn.” Flash groans, appearing out of nowhere, before he’s slamming a red flask down in front of Peter.
It’s a Spiderman flask.
Peter coos at the hero sticker, and in his sick-haze almost exclaims: “Look, it’s me!”
He doesn’t though. He just reaches out and traces the edge of the sticker and marvels at how someone is making merchandise and-
“Stop, Christ.” Flash sighs, slapping his hand away. “You’re supposed to drink it.” And then he opens the flask, and pours some of the content into the upturned lid.
Peter peeks forward curiously, before the aroma of chicken soup fills his nose. His mouth salivates and he inhales despite himself. It smells delicious. He looks up at Flash, and thinks his eyes water a little. “Can I have some?” He pleads, definitely not above begging, because his throat would do anything for that soup-
“Can you- yes. That’s why I brought it over.” Flash grumbles in disbelief and Peter takes a sip and tips his head back and moans. It’s so good, it tastes amazing, it feels amazing- he would give his life for this soup-
When he looks back up at Flash, the other boy’s eyes dart away almost guiltily. Like they were stuck on Peter’s neck for some reason. Peter doesn’t understand. He smiles gratefully, and gestures to the seat opposite him. “Wanna sit with me?” He asks hopefully.
Flash pauses, and for a second, Peter thinks he’ll say yes, but then- “I have to get back.” The dark skinned boy sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just- finish the soup. And don’t give me back that flask. Burn it. I don’t need whatever you’ve got.” And then he’s marching away.
Sigh. Either way, Peter still has the soup.
And everything goes back to normal. Two little blips on the radar, that’s all. But still, now, whenever Flash makes a snarky comment, Peter can’t help smile just a little. He thinks Flash notices, but neither of them do anything about it.
Before Liza’s Christmas party comes.
He’s pretty sure she invited him out of pity, but he was allowed to bring Ned so it’s a win in his books. The two of them spend most of the party listening to Flash DJing and hiding in the kitchen trying to make the longest words out of the fridge magnets.
And that’s when Ned finds the bottle of vodka.
“Can you even get drunk?” His friend asks dubiously, eyeing the bottle. “With the enhanced healing and stuff?”
Peter frowns. “I don’t know,” he admits, but now he’s really curious and-
Fast forward an hour- it turns out spiders don’t have a particular tolerance to alcohol.
The whole world is fuzzy and pretty and Peter doesn’t know how he ended up in the garden, but everything is so beautiful- he tries hooting at an owl, but the fluffy creature doesn’t seem that impressed and the world tilts for some reason- physics, or something and the grass isn’t as soft as it looked and-
“Peter!” Comes a voice, tight with alarm.
Warm, strong arms are suddenly rightening the world and Peter can smell cologne and spots black curls. “Flash!” He exclaims brightly, stumbling as he attempts to stand on his own. He fails, and Flash steadies him. “Look at that owl!” He does his best to point in the direction of the tree. “I don’t think he likes me.” He pouts sadly.
Flash’s face looks this weird mix of fond and exasperated, but Peter’s probably too drunk to be reading it right. “That’s a birdhouse, dipshit,” he says softly, “c’mon, I’m taking you home.”
“Can’t drive when you’re drunk!” Peter gasps scandalously, squeaking when he’s lifted straight off the ground- “Am I flying?” He cries, twisting a little.
Flash holds him tighter to his chest. “I’m carrying you. You weigh like nothing- and what? No, I’m not drunk. What, did you think I’d let you drive my car? As if, Parker.”
Peter giggles. “I’ve driven your car,” he confesses in an exaggerated whisper.
“What?”
Oops, that might be a bad one. He’d quite like some chocolate.
He’s set down as Flash starts doing something and he realises that they’re now in front of Liza’s house. “You realise you’re making no sense.” Flash grumbles, opening the passenger side and then guiding Peter in. It’s warm and the seats are plush leather, and he can smell Flash’s cologne again as he fiddles with the seatbelt. Peter tries to help, but Flash pins him to the seat with a firm look. His hand firm against Peter’s chest. Peter likes that. Should he? “Just stay still. I think I might have some chocolate.”
Peter happily obeys, before leaning forward to nuzzle Flash’s neck. “I like you when you’re nice,” he sighs, pressing a kiss to the boy’s cheek. “Makes your eyes go sparkly- s’pretty,”
He suddenly feels very sleepy, and for a long time, there’s no movement and no noise.
Before Flash clears his throat and buckles his seatbelt successfully, before coming around the car and heading in. He turns the engine on and blasts the heater and Peter’s eyes drift shut in contentment, before something’s being pressed into his hand.
He looks down.
It’s a candy bar.
He could cry he’s so happy, he claws at the wrapping before it’s taken away- and the it’s back, bare, and he immediately starts nibbling at it. He glances out the window and watches as the world starts to roll by.
“If anyone’s the pretty one,” Flash says gruffly, clearing his throat, “it’s you.”
Peter turns to look at him and sucks on the chocolate so it melts soft enough for him to bite into. “I’m pretty?” He asks, happy at the compliment. He feels pretty. “Am I the prettiest?” He asks honestly, peering at Flash. Are there two Flashes?
The Flash nearer the front scoffs, before half-smiling. “Yeah,” he admits softly, “you are. The prettiest.”
That makes him feel warm and nice. “I liked it when you um- pinned me to the seat,” he admits, nodding so Flash knows he’s being honest. “Made me feel good.”
Flash looks away from the road- dangerous!- and his fists go tight. “Fuck.” He hisses, but he doesn’t sound angry. That’s good, Peter thinks and as soon as he finishes the chocolate, he starts to drift off to the gentle thrum of the motor. He thinks he hears Flash say something; gentle and trembling, but he can’t hear it, he’s dreaming of owls.
School is a bitch the next day.
Peter groans, keeping his head down as he shuffles from class to class, but every student is doing the same thing. He doesn’t remember anything from last night but May had told him over breakfast that Flash had driven him home and been- a real gentleman, according to her.
Peter wants to say thank you.
He’d also really like it if he and Flash could become friends. Proper friends. Not just ones who tease each other and compete whenever they can.
He searches for him over lunch, and spots him outside on the bleachers watching football. He shivers in the cold, but manages to clamber over to his bench and sit a little way off from him. “Hey,” he calls over the wind. Flash looks up, his eyes widen a little, and he quickly looks away: nodding.
“Parker.”
“My Aunt told me what you- I just wanted to say thanks.”
“Not a big deal.” Flash nods, and Peter sighs.
He slides along the bench until they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder. He can feel Flash stiffen, but he stays persistent. “I’m serious, man,” Peter starts softly, “you keep doing these things for me and it’s awesome, and we should- we should be- I don’t know,” he ducks his head, feeling shy and a little stupid, “friends or somet-“
“Do you even remember last night?” Flash asks, less snappish than before.
Peter blushes. “Not really, but I mean- of course it was you. You have my back when it matters and I just want you to know that I really appreciate-”
Warm, soft lips press against his own.
And then just as quickly, pull away. Peter freezes. He stares, uncomprehendingly at Flash, eyebrows furrowing together. “I…” What- wait what-
Flash swallows hard, and half looks like he wants to run away, but he doesn’t. He turns to face Peter head on and says through gritted teeth: “I like you, alright…dipshit.”
Oh. Oh. Well that’s…unexpected. Peter licks his lips. Flash tastes like tea. “I’ve never been kissed before,” Peter muses, replaying it in his head. It was kinda nice.
Flash looks disturbed by this. “Fuck, Peter, I’m sorry-“
A little tingle runs through him when Flash says his first name. And then, because it’s cold, because Flash tastes like tea, and because it felt good- Peter leans in to kiss him. It’s clumsier than when Flash did it, a little eager and messy, but then Flash’s hands come and cradle his jaw- they guide him, and he finds a rhythm, slow and sweet.
When they pull away, Peter’s a little short of breath. “I liked that,” he whispers, leaning forward for another kiss-
Flash looks at him with eyes typically reserved for Spiderman youtube clips. Adoringly. “You can have as many as you want,” he promises, before tacking on with a grin: “moron.”
Peter almost wants to say your moron, but he thinks that might be too much for today.
[ txt → briar rose ] : what do girls like?[ txt → briar rose ] : like if i wanted to get something for someone who is a girl, what would i get?[ txt → briar rose ] : not that i am. and no you cant ask.
Send “$” for an ACCIDENTAL text.
[ txt → briar rose ] : 👀 on the skies[ txt → briar rose ] : wait no[ txt → briar rose ] : that was a copy n paste from my insta bio
