(no subject)
untiled | the amazing spiderman (2012) | flash thompson & peter parker | 520 words | unbeta'd and just a snippet for me to deal with my sudden and confusing flash feels.
Somewhere in the blink of an eye, Peter Parker has become stronger than Flash, stronger and faster. It doesn’t fit into his world view and it doesn’t make much sense, but Flash isn’t stupid. He can figure out what it means: The days where he could easily take Peter down with a right hook are over.
He minds less than he should, given it threatens his status. It doesn’t, though, not really, because Peter Parker is still Peter Parker, a guy who rambles sarcastically, a nerdy and scrawny kid. He may be able to beat Flash’s ass these days, but beyond that not much has changed; not in the school and not with their dynamic. It isn’t as though Peter was ever cowed by Flash.
Then Peter’s uncle dies.
Flash knows a little about that. Maybe not what it feels like to have yet another father figure, the only one left, die violently. That’s never happened to him and having a drunk fuck as a dad who eventually walked out hardly compares to having both of your parents die and then your uncle as well.
Still, he knows what it’s like to bottle things up without an outlet and hell, some people say talking about it helps, but Flash’s always found that physical exertion is far more effective. And Peter Parker is stronger than him now, so there’s really one way it can go down when he makes his way to Peter’s locker, sneer firmly in place.
(Okay, so there’s a chance Peter will actually break down and cry or want to talk about it and Flash’s uncomfortable with that, but he’s prepared for the eventuality. Not that it’ll happen, he doesn’t think so. He’s gotten to know Peter fairly well over the years, if from a different angle than anyone else. Peter isn’t going to break down, he’s not the type.)
Peter needs an outlet and Flash knows how to provide one. As expected, Peter slams Flash into the locker. It forces the air out of him, feet not even touching ground anymore, and he has no idea how Peter does it, but it hardly matters right now.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks, and tells Peter he’s sorry about his uncle.
He means it, too. Violence, much like football, is one way that Flash’s found that lets his emotions out without hurting him and if it leads to a few bruises or sprains, well. Physical pain is far easier to bear. And he is sorry about Peter’s uncle, he really is.
Peter walks away, and Flash touches the base of his throat gingerly. It may not have helped much, but he thinks maybe he’s done his part, helped a little. Sometimes, even just a little can be enough and Flash doesn’t mind if he’ll walk home bruised today.
They say violence isn’t the answer, but it feels pretty damn good sometimes and if Flash can give Peter a little of that, just a break from all the things he must be feeling, well, he doesn’t mind. Peter deserves that, and Flash?
He’s used to the bruises.
Yes, this is most likely horribly ooc and makes no sense, but I had to get it out somehow.
Somewhere in the blink of an eye, Peter Parker has become stronger than Flash, stronger and faster. It doesn’t fit into his world view and it doesn’t make much sense, but Flash isn’t stupid. He can figure out what it means: The days where he could easily take Peter down with a right hook are over.
He minds less than he should, given it threatens his status. It doesn’t, though, not really, because Peter Parker is still Peter Parker, a guy who rambles sarcastically, a nerdy and scrawny kid. He may be able to beat Flash’s ass these days, but beyond that not much has changed; not in the school and not with their dynamic. It isn’t as though Peter was ever cowed by Flash.
Then Peter’s uncle dies.
Flash knows a little about that. Maybe not what it feels like to have yet another father figure, the only one left, die violently. That’s never happened to him and having a drunk fuck as a dad who eventually walked out hardly compares to having both of your parents die and then your uncle as well.
Still, he knows what it’s like to bottle things up without an outlet and hell, some people say talking about it helps, but Flash’s always found that physical exertion is far more effective. And Peter Parker is stronger than him now, so there’s really one way it can go down when he makes his way to Peter’s locker, sneer firmly in place.
(Okay, so there’s a chance Peter will actually break down and cry or want to talk about it and Flash’s uncomfortable with that, but he’s prepared for the eventuality. Not that it’ll happen, he doesn’t think so. He’s gotten to know Peter fairly well over the years, if from a different angle than anyone else. Peter isn’t going to break down, he’s not the type.)
Peter needs an outlet and Flash knows how to provide one. As expected, Peter slams Flash into the locker. It forces the air out of him, feet not even touching ground anymore, and he has no idea how Peter does it, but it hardly matters right now.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks, and tells Peter he’s sorry about his uncle.
He means it, too. Violence, much like football, is one way that Flash’s found that lets his emotions out without hurting him and if it leads to a few bruises or sprains, well. Physical pain is far easier to bear. And he is sorry about Peter’s uncle, he really is.
Peter walks away, and Flash touches the base of his throat gingerly. It may not have helped much, but he thinks maybe he’s done his part, helped a little. Sometimes, even just a little can be enough and Flash doesn’t mind if he’ll walk home bruised today.
They say violence isn’t the answer, but it feels pretty damn good sometimes and if Flash can give Peter a little of that, just a break from all the things he must be feeling, well, he doesn’t mind. Peter deserves that, and Flash?
He’s used to the bruises.
Yes, this is most likely horribly ooc and makes no sense, but I had to get it out somehow.