[Amazing Spider-Man] Five times Flash tried to reach out to Peter, and one time Peter reached back
Five times Flash tried to reach out to Peter, and the one time Peter reached back
Flash/Peter | R, 2014 words
Written for this prompt at spiderkinkmod. What. Flash is adorable.
one
The first time Flash tries to sympathise with Peter, things don't go so well. To be perfectly honest, he's not sure what he'd been expecting. When he hears about Peter's uncle, his heart sinks and he feels completely dreadful for all the stupidly childish trouble he's ever given Peter, since he met him. It's not that he hates Peter, it's not that at all, he just struggles a bit with human interraction. He doesn't mean to blame his childhood, but it's part of it.
So he tries to talk to Peter. He's not sure if he's ever just talked to Peter before, and it makes him kind of nervous. He approaches Peter at his locker, begins to speak, and he's not even really sure what happens next except that seconds later he finds himself, rather impressively, shoved up against the locker, and Peter refuses to listen to a word Flash is saying.
He gets it. He has spent high school beating him up, so it's sort of only fair.
two
The second time, Flash decides to go with a softer approach. By softer approach, Flash is thinking: peace offering.
He approaches Peter in the cafeteria with a carton of chocolate milk -- he's sure he's seen Peter drinking them before (not that he's paying attention or anything). He sits down next to Peter and puts the drink down, opening his mouth to speak, but before Peter even looks at him, his hand flies out and crushes the carton, splashing chocolate milk all over both of them.
Peter turns to look at Flash, jaw clenched, and without speaking, he gets up, wiping his hands on his jeans, and storms off.
Flash just dips his head while the rest of the cafeteria laughs and laughs and laughs at him. He doesn't have the energy today to retaliate, and for once he doesn't care to either.
three
Flash watches on silently as Peter sits on the bench outside, flicking through some photos he's taken. He looks dissatisfied for a moment and shoves them hastily back in his bag. He looks up at Flash. "I'm really not in the mood," he says quietly.
"You're never in the mood," Flash replies, but that just sounds really weird, so he frowns and corrects himself. "I mean, I know. I get it."
Peter looks at him, really looks at him this time, and then looks away again. There's a bandaid on his forehead that barely covers the cut beneath it, and it makes Flash worry about all the times he's injured Peter.
"I can talk," Flash says. "Like, if- if you need to- or if you-" He stops there.
Peter scrunches up his face, looking like he's about to cry, and Flash maybe freaks out a little. God, what is he supposed to do now? But then Peter gets up and leaves of his own accord, and Flash is simultaneously relieved and exasperated.
four
Flash has a magical plan: get to science class super early, get a bench, then scare away all potential lab partners until Peter shows up. At first it seems to be working swimmingly -- he puts on an unpleasant face, throws his books down and the rest of his stuff around the place, and just generally makes obnoxiously loud noises while everyone's getting set up -- it's a wonderful deterrent. He even manages to scare awkward Becky Masters over to Gwen's bench, which is more than perfect, because he knows Gwen well enough to know she won't have her move away.
Flash waits patiently. He waits and he waits until he's pretty tired of discussing the relative merits of different biodegrable materials with an imaginary lab partner, and finally after twenty-five minutes, Peter strolls in like he's ten minutes early, left eye bruised and bottom lip split. Flash finds himself strangely nervous again and he forgets to breathe for a moment when Peter glances over and they make eye contact. He stares back down at his notebook where he's scribbled: "Pros - better for the environment and stuff".
Peter reluctantly makes his way across the room and sits down.
"We," Flash says, clears his throat, and starts again. "Um, we're looking at biodegradable materi--"
"Shh," Peter hushes him. He flips open his notebook and continues work on a pretty sketchy sketch of Spider-Man.
Flash raises his eyebrows a little. Maybe they have more in common than he realised. "Parker, I know that I've--"
Peter quickly cuts in again, "Nope," and wraps his foot around the leg of Flash's chair, then pulls it out from underneath him.
Flash goes unceremoniously clattering to the ground. His head spins while he hears Peter insisting that it's somehow Flash's fault, and then he has a detention slip shoved in his face.
five
It better be the right door. Gwen had said 36. Had she said 36? Maybe it was 39? God, he's probably getting all worked up for nothing. Peter probably doesn't live on this street, or even in this suburb. He's probably not home. Flash knocks on the door, considers running, and then when the door opens, a lovely lady is standing there saying, "Hi darling, are you here to see Peter?" and Flash finds his feet frozen to the spot and his tongue not of much use either. This must be his aunt, then.
"Um, yes," he finally gets out. "Too see Peter, yes." The name feels weird on his tongue.
She smiles broadly at him, and calls up the stairs, "Peter, your friend is here to see you."
Peter is downstairs in three seconds, looking slighty flustered as if he's been out for a run. He comes to a halt at the door. "Ohh no," he says, turns on his heel and jumps his way right back up again.
"Peter Parker, you will greet your guests when they come all this way for you," his aunt calls after him. She sighs and turns back to Flash, sympathetic. "He's just having a bad day. Go on up. I'm sure really he's happy to have a friend here with him."
Flash is not so sure, but he thanks her and does as she says, treading up the stairs quietly. He's in Peter's house. Why did he come again?
Peter's door is only half closed, and without even touching it, Flash can see Peter sitting cross-legged on his desk chair, staring at his cell phone as if waiting for it to ring. His head flicks up when Flash reaches the door.
"Waiting for a phone call?" Flash asks, trying to make casual conversation. Apparently it's the worst thing he could ask. Apparently, because Peter's expression flickers from hurt to confused to angry in a matter of milliseconds, and the door is slammed in his face. Rather painfully, too, as Flash is a centimetre too close so the door smacks him in the nose and blood starts pouring out. "Ow fuck," he cries, covering his nose with his hand and tipping his head to the ceiling.
The door creaks open again. "Oh god," Flash hears Peter say, and then Peter is holding up a wad of tissues to Flash's face.
For a moment, Peter's hands are covering his, and Flash's heart skips (whatever that means, Flash would like to blissfully ignore). Flash grabs at the tissues and looks down enough to see Peter as he steps away.
"Sorry," Peter says, frowning, and then he closes the door again.
Flash waits for thirty seconds before deciding Peter's not coming back. He plods back down the stairs, tissues blocking half his vision, and lets himself out.
+one
Flash becomes very quickly aware that Peter and him are the only two in detention after school today. Flash is still indignant about being here, but he's glad that at least he gets an hour where Peter can't run away. He still hasn't figured out why it's so important to him that Peter listens -- he's stopped trying to understand it. The teacher comes in, assigns them the totally enthralling task of cleaning up the science labs, and then he leaves them to do it, unsupervised.
"Parker," Flash calls as Peter is wiping down the benchtops. Peter ignores him, so he calls his name again, to no avail. He swallows. "Peter."
Peter freezes.
Flash slowly walks over to him, dropping his own cloth on the bench putting his back towards it. "I'm sorry," he says. "I'm really so sorry."
Peter mutters something under his breath that Flash can't hear.
"What?"
"It's my fault," Peter says, louder now, and there are definitely tears in his eyes this time.
Flash is confused. "How can anything be--"
Peter grabs the front of Flash's shirt and slams him back against the bench. "It's my-" Peter's voice cuts out and he drops his head, resting it against Flash's chest. "It's my fault."
Flash is maybe kind of rather innapropriately freaking out right about now. His heart is racing a mile a minute, and if Peter can't hear it, then he'd be very, very surprised.
Peter lifts his head, gives Flash a momentary appraising look, and then tugs him forward again and kisses him.
Flash is done with thinking. No really. Fuck thinking, who needs it? He has no idea what he's doing, and he doesn't care. He kisses Peter back, eyes slipping shut as Peter's tongue slides into his mouth, desperate and messy. He puts his hands on Peter's hips, and really super not thinking, pulls Peter in closer. Peter's hard-on comes as a shock, for sure, but what surprises Flash even more is how fucking good it feels when Peter rubs up against him, and just how hard Flash already is himself.
"Fuck," Flash says, pulling away to breathe, and Peter unclasps his hands from the fabric of Flash's shirt and drops them to his own waistband, hastily undoing his jeans and pulling them down along with his boxers, just far enough to comfortably pull himself out. Flash's breath hitches and he has no idea what to do -- does he follow? does he just wait? -- but then Peter quickly does the same for Flash and kisses him again so he can't speak. Flash's eyes clamp shut when Peter grabs them both as best he can in one hand and bites down hard on Flash's bottom lip.
"Fuck," Peter says back, and Flash wraps a hand around Peter's, helping him find a rhythm.
There's a moment or two when Flash opens his eyes and sees beyond Peter -- the benches, the beakers, the blackboard -- but for the most part he forgets where he is, and focuses simply on feeling. Peter's hand around him and his cock pressed up against him, Peter's tongue running over the roof of his mouth, tickling and teasing, Peter Peter Peter. He didn't even realise he wanted this, and he's probably never going to admit he did either, but for now, just. Just.
Peter breaks away from the kiss, his chest rising and falling horribly unevenly, and Flash just squeezes his hand tighter around them, trying to stay composed despite everything. "I'm- I'm going to come," Peter forces out, looking straight into Flash's eyes, and Flash breaks, coming just as Peter does, kissing him through it and resting back against the lab bench for support when his legs give out. "Fuck fuck fuck," Peter says. "Fuck."
"Mm," Flash says, breathing heavily. He looks down at their hands, sticky with come, dazed for a moment, and then he remembers where they are and has a minor freak out. "Oh fuck."
Peter looks around him and his eyes widen. "Oh man." He grabs the cloths from the bench and cleans himself up, handing one to Flash.
"Um," Flash starts, still looking down. "I--" He scrunches his face and looks up. Peter is just standing there, this awkward, boyish grin on his face, and Flash's heart almost explodes. He doesn't remember the last time he saw Peter smile like that.
"Maybe we- I think-" Peter says. "Or we could finish cleaning the lab."
Flash just nods and definitely doesn't try to think about what happens tomorrow.
Flash/Peter | R, 2014 words
Written for this prompt at spiderkinkmod. What. Flash is adorable.
one
The first time Flash tries to sympathise with Peter, things don't go so well. To be perfectly honest, he's not sure what he'd been expecting. When he hears about Peter's uncle, his heart sinks and he feels completely dreadful for all the stupidly childish trouble he's ever given Peter, since he met him. It's not that he hates Peter, it's not that at all, he just struggles a bit with human interraction. He doesn't mean to blame his childhood, but it's part of it.
So he tries to talk to Peter. He's not sure if he's ever just talked to Peter before, and it makes him kind of nervous. He approaches Peter at his locker, begins to speak, and he's not even really sure what happens next except that seconds later he finds himself, rather impressively, shoved up against the locker, and Peter refuses to listen to a word Flash is saying.
He gets it. He has spent high school beating him up, so it's sort of only fair.
two
The second time, Flash decides to go with a softer approach. By softer approach, Flash is thinking: peace offering.
He approaches Peter in the cafeteria with a carton of chocolate milk -- he's sure he's seen Peter drinking them before (not that he's paying attention or anything). He sits down next to Peter and puts the drink down, opening his mouth to speak, but before Peter even looks at him, his hand flies out and crushes the carton, splashing chocolate milk all over both of them.
Peter turns to look at Flash, jaw clenched, and without speaking, he gets up, wiping his hands on his jeans, and storms off.
Flash just dips his head while the rest of the cafeteria laughs and laughs and laughs at him. He doesn't have the energy today to retaliate, and for once he doesn't care to either.
three
Flash watches on silently as Peter sits on the bench outside, flicking through some photos he's taken. He looks dissatisfied for a moment and shoves them hastily back in his bag. He looks up at Flash. "I'm really not in the mood," he says quietly.
"You're never in the mood," Flash replies, but that just sounds really weird, so he frowns and corrects himself. "I mean, I know. I get it."
Peter looks at him, really looks at him this time, and then looks away again. There's a bandaid on his forehead that barely covers the cut beneath it, and it makes Flash worry about all the times he's injured Peter.
"I can talk," Flash says. "Like, if- if you need to- or if you-" He stops there.
Peter scrunches up his face, looking like he's about to cry, and Flash maybe freaks out a little. God, what is he supposed to do now? But then Peter gets up and leaves of his own accord, and Flash is simultaneously relieved and exasperated.
four
Flash has a magical plan: get to science class super early, get a bench, then scare away all potential lab partners until Peter shows up. At first it seems to be working swimmingly -- he puts on an unpleasant face, throws his books down and the rest of his stuff around the place, and just generally makes obnoxiously loud noises while everyone's getting set up -- it's a wonderful deterrent. He even manages to scare awkward Becky Masters over to Gwen's bench, which is more than perfect, because he knows Gwen well enough to know she won't have her move away.
Flash waits patiently. He waits and he waits until he's pretty tired of discussing the relative merits of different biodegrable materials with an imaginary lab partner, and finally after twenty-five minutes, Peter strolls in like he's ten minutes early, left eye bruised and bottom lip split. Flash finds himself strangely nervous again and he forgets to breathe for a moment when Peter glances over and they make eye contact. He stares back down at his notebook where he's scribbled: "Pros - better for the environment and stuff".
Peter reluctantly makes his way across the room and sits down.
"We," Flash says, clears his throat, and starts again. "Um, we're looking at biodegradable materi--"
"Shh," Peter hushes him. He flips open his notebook and continues work on a pretty sketchy sketch of Spider-Man.
Flash raises his eyebrows a little. Maybe they have more in common than he realised. "Parker, I know that I've--"
Peter quickly cuts in again, "Nope," and wraps his foot around the leg of Flash's chair, then pulls it out from underneath him.
Flash goes unceremoniously clattering to the ground. His head spins while he hears Peter insisting that it's somehow Flash's fault, and then he has a detention slip shoved in his face.
five
It better be the right door. Gwen had said 36. Had she said 36? Maybe it was 39? God, he's probably getting all worked up for nothing. Peter probably doesn't live on this street, or even in this suburb. He's probably not home. Flash knocks on the door, considers running, and then when the door opens, a lovely lady is standing there saying, "Hi darling, are you here to see Peter?" and Flash finds his feet frozen to the spot and his tongue not of much use either. This must be his aunt, then.
"Um, yes," he finally gets out. "Too see Peter, yes." The name feels weird on his tongue.
She smiles broadly at him, and calls up the stairs, "Peter, your friend is here to see you."
Peter is downstairs in three seconds, looking slighty flustered as if he's been out for a run. He comes to a halt at the door. "Ohh no," he says, turns on his heel and jumps his way right back up again.
"Peter Parker, you will greet your guests when they come all this way for you," his aunt calls after him. She sighs and turns back to Flash, sympathetic. "He's just having a bad day. Go on up. I'm sure really he's happy to have a friend here with him."
Flash is not so sure, but he thanks her and does as she says, treading up the stairs quietly. He's in Peter's house. Why did he come again?
Peter's door is only half closed, and without even touching it, Flash can see Peter sitting cross-legged on his desk chair, staring at his cell phone as if waiting for it to ring. His head flicks up when Flash reaches the door.
"Waiting for a phone call?" Flash asks, trying to make casual conversation. Apparently it's the worst thing he could ask. Apparently, because Peter's expression flickers from hurt to confused to angry in a matter of milliseconds, and the door is slammed in his face. Rather painfully, too, as Flash is a centimetre too close so the door smacks him in the nose and blood starts pouring out. "Ow fuck," he cries, covering his nose with his hand and tipping his head to the ceiling.
The door creaks open again. "Oh god," Flash hears Peter say, and then Peter is holding up a wad of tissues to Flash's face.
For a moment, Peter's hands are covering his, and Flash's heart skips (whatever that means, Flash would like to blissfully ignore). Flash grabs at the tissues and looks down enough to see Peter as he steps away.
"Sorry," Peter says, frowning, and then he closes the door again.
Flash waits for thirty seconds before deciding Peter's not coming back. He plods back down the stairs, tissues blocking half his vision, and lets himself out.
+one
Flash becomes very quickly aware that Peter and him are the only two in detention after school today. Flash is still indignant about being here, but he's glad that at least he gets an hour where Peter can't run away. He still hasn't figured out why it's so important to him that Peter listens -- he's stopped trying to understand it. The teacher comes in, assigns them the totally enthralling task of cleaning up the science labs, and then he leaves them to do it, unsupervised.
"Parker," Flash calls as Peter is wiping down the benchtops. Peter ignores him, so he calls his name again, to no avail. He swallows. "Peter."
Peter freezes.
Flash slowly walks over to him, dropping his own cloth on the bench putting his back towards it. "I'm sorry," he says. "I'm really so sorry."
Peter mutters something under his breath that Flash can't hear.
"What?"
"It's my fault," Peter says, louder now, and there are definitely tears in his eyes this time.
Flash is confused. "How can anything be--"
Peter grabs the front of Flash's shirt and slams him back against the bench. "It's my-" Peter's voice cuts out and he drops his head, resting it against Flash's chest. "It's my fault."
Flash is maybe kind of rather innapropriately freaking out right about now. His heart is racing a mile a minute, and if Peter can't hear it, then he'd be very, very surprised.
Peter lifts his head, gives Flash a momentary appraising look, and then tugs him forward again and kisses him.
Flash is done with thinking. No really. Fuck thinking, who needs it? He has no idea what he's doing, and he doesn't care. He kisses Peter back, eyes slipping shut as Peter's tongue slides into his mouth, desperate and messy. He puts his hands on Peter's hips, and really super not thinking, pulls Peter in closer. Peter's hard-on comes as a shock, for sure, but what surprises Flash even more is how fucking good it feels when Peter rubs up against him, and just how hard Flash already is himself.
"Fuck," Flash says, pulling away to breathe, and Peter unclasps his hands from the fabric of Flash's shirt and drops them to his own waistband, hastily undoing his jeans and pulling them down along with his boxers, just far enough to comfortably pull himself out. Flash's breath hitches and he has no idea what to do -- does he follow? does he just wait? -- but then Peter quickly does the same for Flash and kisses him again so he can't speak. Flash's eyes clamp shut when Peter grabs them both as best he can in one hand and bites down hard on Flash's bottom lip.
"Fuck," Peter says back, and Flash wraps a hand around Peter's, helping him find a rhythm.
There's a moment or two when Flash opens his eyes and sees beyond Peter -- the benches, the beakers, the blackboard -- but for the most part he forgets where he is, and focuses simply on feeling. Peter's hand around him and his cock pressed up against him, Peter's tongue running over the roof of his mouth, tickling and teasing, Peter Peter Peter. He didn't even realise he wanted this, and he's probably never going to admit he did either, but for now, just. Just.
Peter breaks away from the kiss, his chest rising and falling horribly unevenly, and Flash just squeezes his hand tighter around them, trying to stay composed despite everything. "I'm- I'm going to come," Peter forces out, looking straight into Flash's eyes, and Flash breaks, coming just as Peter does, kissing him through it and resting back against the lab bench for support when his legs give out. "Fuck fuck fuck," Peter says. "Fuck."
"Mm," Flash says, breathing heavily. He looks down at their hands, sticky with come, dazed for a moment, and then he remembers where they are and has a minor freak out. "Oh fuck."
Peter looks around him and his eyes widen. "Oh man." He grabs the cloths from the bench and cleans himself up, handing one to Flash.
"Um," Flash starts, still looking down. "I--" He scrunches his face and looks up. Peter is just standing there, this awkward, boyish grin on his face, and Flash's heart almost explodes. He doesn't remember the last time he saw Peter smile like that.
"Maybe we- I think-" Peter says. "Or we could finish cleaning the lab."
Flash just nods and definitely doesn't try to think about what happens tomorrow.