Archive of Our Own

Ned Leeds had done everything right. Born in Queens, New York to immigrant parents, he’d worked hard all throughout school, managing to score a scholarship for Midtown School of Science and Technology which, thanks to an impeccable 4.0 GPA and a slew of extracurricular activities including the Academic Decathlon team and band, got him a full-ride scholarship to MIT. Ned had continued to work his ass off in college, earning himself a bachelor’s degree in Electrical Engineering and Computer Science with honors before returning to New York to pursue a master’s degree at Columbia.

                Along the way, he had caught the attention of one Colonel James Rhodes who had come to give a talk at his old alma mater about cybernetic security during Ned’s Junior year. Ned probably shouldn’t have corrected one of the man’s main talking points in the Q&A section, but he had never been able to hold his tongue well. Luckily for him, the older man had been impressed at the then twenty-year-old, rather than offended and had offered Ned coffee to discuss the point further.

                Colonel Rhodes had failed, however, to mention that the coffee meeting he suggested would include one Tony Stark, the current head of one of the world’s leading tech companies and Ned’s absolute favorite Avenger, Iron-Man. Which lead to a rather embarrassing moment where Ned, in a state of complete shock, ended up upending his entire drink on the front of Mr. Stark’s immaculate suit which had looked like it cost more than the entire apartment building Ned had been living in. Luckily for him, Mr. Stark had a sense of humor and had waved off Ned’s frantic apologies and offers to pay for the dry-cleaning (which was fortunate, as Ned could barely the two-dollar-and-fifty-cent per wash cost of his own laundry at the time).

                That conversation, although mortifying, was easily the highlight of Ned’s undergraduate career, as Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes had spent a good part of an hour grilling Ned on his knowledge of computers and cybersecurity and being generally impressed by the younger man’s intelligence. That conversation led to another, and then a third and a fourth and a fifth, all conducted through emails consisting of a variety of hypothetical problems and what-would-you-do scenarios, that eventually led to Mr. Stark offering Ned an internship before the ink had fully dried on his diploma.

                Ned had jumped at the opportunity without even reading the fine-print, a fact that came to bite him in the ass when he showed up for his first day, expecting to be sent to the lower-tier electrical engineering labs where StarkPhones and other Smart Home devices were made, and was instead called up to the highest level, where both Mr. Stark and Dr. Bruce Banner’s own private labs were held.

                Mr. Stark had been there to greet Ned personally, trying and failing not to laugh at Ned’s increasingly flabbergasted attitude as he explained, as kindly as possible, that the supposedly hypothetical questions he had been sending Ned for months - which had varied from incredibly complex strings of broken code Ned had to fix to seemingly extravagant ethical and moral scenarios - were actually very real problems and situations Mr. Stark had come across and wanted Ned to either fix or give his opinion on. Ned had grown increasingly more shocked as Mr. Stark had continued to explain that, although Ned’s answers to the computer and engineering questions Mr. Stark had posed had been perfectly answered, it was the answers to the ethical scenarios that had gotten Ned the internship.

                The internship, which Mr. Stark began to explain to an absolutely overwhelmed Ned, was not the standard internship under the bright minds contributing to the increasingly more complex but still everyday appliances offered to twenty new graduate students every year, but a completely one-of-a-kind internship underneath Tony Stark himself. The details of what he would be doing exactly could not be stated until Ned had signed the paperwork, including more Non-Disclosure Agreements than Ned thought possible, but it would be paid and the hours were flexible enough to work around Ned’s graduate school responsibilities. And it would be directly under Tony Stark himself. Ned had come to his senses enough to immediately sign everything Mr. Stark’s at-hand lawyer had placed in his fingers and Mr. Stark had taken him out for a celebratory lunch before explaining what Ned would be doing for his internship.

                It was truly fortunate that Ned had had the foresight to order only water, because he spilled it all over the incredibly intricate tablecloth of the bistro Mr. Stark had cleared out for them the moment Mr. Stark told him his job would be to work on the suit for New York’s very own Spider-Man.

                Ned was a Queens native, born and raised, and proud of it. As such, he knew everything there was to know about the elusive vigilante who had first appeared when Ned was a sophomore in high school, as did pretty much every other New Yorker of his generation who grew up under the protective shadows of the city’s colorful heroes. He’d been the head of the unofficial  Spidey-Fan club at his school, much to the ire of his very sweet but slightly impressionable mother who was a lifetime subscriber to the Daily Bugle. He’d even gone on several Spidey-Watch tours, much to the ire of his own wallet, and had spent several long nights out on the streets with his best friend, MJ, trying to catch sight of the webslinger.

                He never had gotten a good glimpse of the superhero – had only seen the darting figure hundreds of feet up above him, soaring across the wide New York streets on impossibly thin strips of webbing, but now he was being offered the chance of a lifetime – to work on the very suit he’d tried to see so hard. Ned truly was living in the best timeline.

                He wouldn’t know the man’s identity, Mr. Stark had explained as he calmly dabbed at the spilled water dripping into his lap as Ned frantically tried to wipe up the excess from the table with his own napkin, but he would have access to the suit, which almost always came with the wearer in question, so Ned would meet him and probably have to deal with him on more than one occasion. He would be expected to act professional and courteous, not pry into the man’s identity or personal life, and his sole focus would be on repairing, tweaking, and updating the suit when required and not bothering the secretive hero. It had sounded easy enough; Ned may have been easily excitable, but he respected boundaries and he knew how to behave professionally.

                But then Ned had met the man. And realized that his job was going to be a lot harder than he’d ever thought possible.

                The first time Ned had met Spider-Man, it had been a complete surprise. It had been nearly two months into Ned’s internship under Mr. Stark and despite what the older man had said about the suit generally coming with the owner, the younger man had become acquainted with the ins ands outs of the suit through Mr. Stark’s extensive blueprints and the times Mr. Stark had gotten a hold of the suit, sans owner. So it was an immense surprise for Ned, when he made his way all the way up to the small lab Mr. Stark had procured for him on the same floor as the older man’s own, to see someone standing in the direct center of his space, wearing the suit he’d poured sweat over. A suit that currently had several rather long tears across the torso, haphazardly stitched together with what appeared to be regular, store-bought cotton thread.

                It should be noted that Ned was, at that time, two months into both the internship and graduate  school and neck deep in first year exams. He had been running purely on less than three hours of sleep a night, streamlined double and triple shot expresso drinks, and pure determination. Which was why, as he would sheepishly explain to an entirely too amused Mr. Stark later, he had reacted the way he had – by dropping his freshly brewed triple-shot venti Pumpkin Spice latte, shrieking loud enough to bring both Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner running into the lab  and completely terrifying the man in the suit, who had responded to the sudden explosion of noise by jumping onto the ceiling.

                The distance hadn’t been enough to separate him from the impressively loud and rather irate graduate student. Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner had come sprinting in to the sight of Spider-Man sticking on the roof while Ned yelled at him to get down from the ceiling and take the suit off that very instant before Ned climbed up there and took it off himself. It had been a truly memorable and, once Dr. Banner had gotten Ned calm enough to feel anything other than blind anger, rather mortifying first meeting.

                Ned had apologized profusely to Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner while Spider-Man made his slow way down one of the walls of the lab, utterly terrified that Mr. Stark would fire him on the spot. Mr. Stark, to Ned’s immense relief, merely patted the younger man’s shoulder and told him that he also often felt like screaming when he saw what “that reckless kid” managed to do to his suit before saying he would call one of the janitors up to mop up the spilled coffee. He had left Ned with Spider-Man then, leading a bewildered Dr. Banner to the door and chortling all the while.

                Ned  had learned several things about Spider-Man in that initial meeting. First, he must have been relatively young for Mr. Stark to call him a kid, probably closer to Ned’s age than he would have expected. Second, despite the man being a genius at chemistry -as the complex formula of both his webs and web-solution that Ned had to extensively study suggested, he was not talented at either repairing intricate super-suits or basic sewing, as the dreadful stitches running through the shirt of the super-suit had clearly demonstrated. Third, he was completely jacked, a fact that Ned was made vividly aware of when, while apologizing profusely, the man had shimmied out of the shirt of the suit, leaving himself in only the mask and tights and displaying a truly sinful amount of flawless pale skin.

                It had been a memorable meeting, indeed. Ned had had just enough sense remaining to not make a joke about getting the other man half-naked on the first date.

                It hadn’t been the only meeting, either. What started as one disastrous first impression, turned into an occasional – maybe once in every five times Ned had to repair or update the suit – visit, that in turn had changed into Spider-Man dropping in with his suit nearly half the times Ned had it in his lab. Ned had made a joke once, when the other man stayed for one of his impromptu visits, wearing one of the spare suits Mr. Stark had created on the behest of Ned after the original suit had returned to him actually shredded, that he felt like he and Spider-Man were a divorced couple trying to learn how to co-parent their super suit by spending increasingly more time together. After that, Spider-Man had taken to overseeing practically every repair and update Ned gave the suit, under the joking guise that he didn’t trust his “no good ex not to corrupt their poor baby.”

                It had been over a year since their first meeting and Ned had learned quite a few other things about the superhero in that time. The man was indeed young, like Ned, and currently seeking his own master’s degree in bio-chemistry. Ned had learned that about four months into their not-quite friendship, not-quite professional relationship, when the other man had let it slip that the coursework was going to kill him before any super villain did after Ned had commented on the man’s evident exhaustion after a rather impressive yawn. That had caused a minor panic, too, with Ned having to assure the man that he wasn’t going to try and use that to find out who he was. Spider-Man had relaxed after that some, and some other personal information was released. He had an ex he still talked to; his roommate was slightly crazy but they paid their half of the rent on time and they were sort of friendly so he couldn’t be bothered to move; he was an only child.

He even knew the man’s number, or his professional one, at least. It had been given to him by a rather frazzled Spider-Man, who had declared it was “just in case an emergency came up with the suit.” Ned had never tried tracing the number – wouldn’t have even dreamed of breaking Spider-Man’s trust like that, but he was pretty sure that if he did, it would appear under Mr. Stark’s or some other bigwig’s name. Ned had shared his own, much less secretive, number, officially for the same reason although they both just used the numbers to send random texts to the other.

                Other information came forward too, over the months. Spider-Man was definitely a Queens native – the other man hadn’t said as much but Ned could hear the quick drawing out of vowels and the heavy weight on the consonants that any true Queens native knew were the hallmarks of their birthplace. He was funny and a little sarcastic, matching Ned quip for quip in the sometimes long hours they spent together. He was also polite and sometimes, surprisingly, a little shy, always being respectful but a little quiet around the other workers he and Ned came across at Stark Industries. Always apologizing and thanking Ned and others in the same breath. He was sweet, too, often bringing Ned coffee or food of some kind or another on the grueling days when Ned was either crushed by graduate work or working overtime on the suit. He’d even become comfortable enough to share meals, a point of pride for Ned although the other man only ever raised his mask up to his nose.

                He ate entirely too much for a normal human, often inhaling half a dozen hot dogs or a whole large pizza by himself. He hardly ever ate healthy, despite his insistence that curry of all varieties counted because it was basically a soup and “soup was always healthy”, and he had a clear preference to Thai food, often adopting a distinctly nostalgic tone when he brought it. He preferred salty foods to sweets but he could still down half a chocolate cake by himself, when the mood struck. He streamlined coffee on a much higher scale than even Ned, sometimes reaching near Tony Stark level proportions while he sat in Ned’s lab.

                He was crazy, crazy smart and quite a bit of a nerd. He could talk for hours about various chemical reactions and experiments, he knew all the latest up-and-coming scientists and their research. He could go toe-to-toe with Ned’s Star Wars and Harry Potter trivia and he could quote 90’s and 2000’s Nickelodeon cartoons like a professional. He knew all the best memes and could reenact even the most obscure vine alongside Ned, although he was particularly fond of the one about Captain America’s shield.

                He was entirely selfless and much too reckless. Too many times he’d shown up bleeding and bruised, apologizing for the state of his suit and getting blood everywhere while Ned tried not to panic at the sight of his injuries while also convincing him to go to the med bay. A few – yet, still far too many times, the suit had shown up without the man in question, riddled with terrifyingly large tears and gaping holes, each stained with browning blood, leaving Ned’s sometimes entirely too dark imagination to postulate on what happened to his chatty friend.

                Sometimes, in the darkest moments of those lonely nights, Ned would hack into the camera feeds of the suit, courtesy of the suit’s very own Stark-created A.I. Karen (a name which he had made sure to give Spider-Man plenty of hell for), and watch what happened, hands shaking and clenching hard enough to break the skin of his palm. Ned would never admit it to the other man or anyone else, but he had shed more than his share of tears in those nights, feeling helpless and angry every time he watched Spider-Man crash hard into a building or stagger backwards, bleeding from a fresh cut. He always worked doubly hard, after those nights, desperate to improve and perfect the skin-thin suit that stood between his friend and all the evil in the world.

                 The biggest fact, however, that Ned had learned about Spider-Man was not one that the other man had shared with him, directly or indirectly. It was not one that any one else knew either, not even Mr. Stark who seemingly knew everything that went on in the rooms and hallways of his tower. Only Ned knew the biggest fact about Spider-Man.

Spider-Man was a shameless thief who’d stolen Ned’s heart.

He hadn’t taken it all at once, but in pieces, over the days and weeks and months that they’d known each other. He’d stolen a piece with his laugh and his smile, another with small thoughtful acts and little jokes. He’d stolen a piece with every light pat on the back or casual arm thrown over Ned’s shoulders. He’d stolen pieces in the dark hours of the weeknights when they’d poured over the suit or snuck their textbooks into the tower to study together; stolen more in the early weekend mornings, with the warm light pouring in from the industrial strength windows in Ned’s lab, when they met for updates on the suit. He’d stolen a sliver with every venti double or triple expresso shot coffee, always in Ned’s favorite seasonal flavors, and bags and boxes of greasy take-out food they both knew were awful for them but ate anyway.

Every time Spider-Man swooped in through the double doors of the lab, he left again with another part of Ned’s heart, until there was none of it left in Ned’s possession. And he didn’t even know it. It had taken Ned a long time to learn it himself and even longer to acknowledge and accept that he was in love with a man whose very name was a secret to him. But, like every other thing about the other man he had learned over the months – the good and the bad, Ned had acknowledged it as fact and stored it away in the recesses of his mind, only for it to rear up in the late or early hours of the morning when Ned couldn’t sleep. Or when the other man did something entirely too sweet or too funny or too reckless that sent Ned’s heart racing and reminded him all over again that although it may beat in his chest, his heart was the sole property of own loud-mouthed, entirely too self-sacrificing superhero.

It was both the best and worst fact he knew about Spider-Man.

Or, at least, it had been before this morning.

Before the thin morning light form his window and the soft yet somehow still blaring sound of a text alert from his cell phone roused Ned from his dreams far too early.

Before he’d blindly reached out, face still pressed into the soft expanse of his pillows, towards his nightstand, fingers searching until they’d found the source of the incessant, buzzing noise.

Before, with a disgruntled moan, he’d lifted his head up from his pillows to check who in God’s name was texting him at seven in the morning on the Saturday after final exams.

Before he’d opened the message on his phone to be greeted with the face and body of an unrecognizable but entirely too cute young man, evidently fast asleep on a worn looking black couch, cuddling an equally adorable, incredibly fluffy gray cat.

Before he’d blinked his eyes to read the accompanying message that said something about “loser roommates who fell asleep in communal spaces and left their phones unlocked besides them.”

Before he checked the phone number and nearly had a heart attack, jumping up from his bed and checking the number again.

Before he flung his phone down onto the bed in abject horror, silently screaming at the message and inwardly cursing Spider-Man’s obviously oblivious and rather asshole-y roommate.

The best and worst fact he knew about Spider-Man was that the man had stolen his heart. But that was before Ned had seen his face.

His unfairly beautiful face that matched his unfairly beautiful body and mind.

The face that Ned had never seen, because seeing it meant knowing Spider-Man’s identity, the one thing that they both acknowledged Ned could never know.

The one thing Spider-Man didn’t want anyone to know.

That Ned now knew. At least sort of.

He didn’t have a name, still. And Ned wasn’t about to go looking for it. Wasn’t about to cross the boundary between them anymore than he already had, by opening that message.

Spider-Man wouldn’t blame him for that, right? It really wasn’t his fault. He certainly wasn’t expecting to open a text image containing Spider-Man’s secret identity.

His stupidly cute secret identity.

That he didn’t want anyone to know. That he didn’t want Ned to know.

“Shit. Fuck. Holy fucking shit-fuck.” Ned began cursing as he stared at his phone, now lying innocently in the tangle of blankets his covers had become when he had flung himself out of the bed. Spider-Man was going to flip. The man had freaked out when he’d accidently told Ned that he was in graduate school – there was no way he’d be able to handle the fact that Ned had seen his face. “Son of a fucking whore.” Ned swore again. What was he supposed to do?

                Should he contact Spider-Man? The other man was probably still fast asleep on his couch; a text would almost definitely not wake him up – Ned had first hand experience with how much noise Spider-Man could sleep through despite his super hearing. He could call – but they had never called each other before. There was something weirdly intimate about it that made Ned pause. There had been times when they’d spoken without the mask’s voice changer, of course – Spider-Man couldn’t eat with it over his face; so Ned wasn’t really worried about hearing the other man’s real voice. But there was still something oddly intimate about calling the other man and knowing he’d be speaking with his face totally uncovered.

                That he would be speaking through that ridiculously cute face that Ned actually had a picture of.

                Yeah, calling was out of the question.

                But Ned couldn’t just ignore the picture either. There’d be no way to deny that he’d seen the image and Spider-Man needed to know that his identity had been compromised, even if it was just to Ned.

Did the picture count as a security breach of some sort? Should Ned call Mr. Stark and tell him that Spider-Man’s roommate – whoever that was – had released a photo of Spider-Man to Ned and potentially other people in his contacts? Surely, Ned wasn’t the only business contact on that phone – could others now be privy to the image, knowing that they were staring at the unmasked face of one of the previously best kept secret identities?

Then again, why would Spider-Man leave out his business phone, potentially filled with all sorts of important, secure contacts? Could it have been Spider-Man’s civilian phone? But then, why would Ned have gotten the picture, if it was? Did Spider-Man give Ned his personal number? He couldn’t have; even if he trusted Ned there was no way he’d trust that the number wouldn’t make it to someone else who knew Ned worked for Stark Industries. People had tried to hack Ned’s phone before – always unsuccessfully, of course – and Spider-Man knew that. Had listened to Ned complain about the attempts because if people were going to try and hack a Stark intern’s phone, they could have at least been less obvious about it. There’d be no way he’d hand out his civilian number with that kind of risk, no matter how small.

Ned himself would have never accepted the number because of the risks. He would have felt way too guilty if it was somehow his fault that Spider-Man’s identity got revealed. Not that that fear mattered, now that Spider-Man’s roommate had sent an image of his face out on what had to be his business phone. Ned should call Mr. Stark. It had to be a security breach. But Spider-Man probably deserved to know first; it was his face after all. But he was sleeping. And Ned couldn’t just call him.

Just like that, Ned was back to square one. Shit. Fuck.

Stuck in his thoughts, Ned jumped when his phone began ringing. He stared at in horror – how could he answer it now, knowing what it contained? He let it go to voicemail, not even checking what the number was. He had more important things to figure out, anyway. Ned began pacing his room, trying to figure out what to do. He should definitely call Mr. Stark, but how was he going to explain what happened? One couldn’t just call their boss early on a Sunday morning raving about a text message. Did Mr. Stark even know Spider-Man’s actual identity? Ned honestly didn’t know. Oh God, what if Ned called, thinking Mr. Stark knew Spider-Man’s civilian identity and ended up revealing the other man to yet another person?

Ned’s phone began ringing again. He barely even glanced at it, letting it go to voicemail once more.

He should contact Spider-Man first. He couldn’t just go around assuming other people knew who he was without talking to the masked vigilante first. He’d have to call the other man; there was no avoiding it. It was the best way to minimize the damage. But maybe Spider-Man would consider calling an invasion of privacy – it would certainly be crossing one of the lines they had drawn between the two of them. Perhaps it was best to wait for Spider-Man to wake up and see the message himself? But who knew how many people had gotten the image – what if Ned could prevent the damage by getting ahead of it? Ned didn’t think he could handle it if it was his inaction that caused more people to see the picture. It would only take one curious person to dig a little and find the name attached to the stunning man in it. The name that no one was supposed to know.

Ned’s phone started ringing again, piercing far too loudly into his thoughts. Ned cursed angrily and turned to the bed. He didn’t even recognize the number when he picked up his phone – it was probably one of the asshole undergraduates who had flaked on their group project because they assumed Ned, as the graduate student, would do everything, calling in anger because Ned had taken all their names off the project before turning it in. Whoever it was, they wouldn’t stop calling and it was driving Ned insane. Wanting a reason to yell at someone, Ned angrily answered his phone.

“If this is April or Dan or whoever else was supposed to be doing the project for Ramirez’s class, you can fuck right off.” He hissed into the phone.

There was a pause. Then a woman’s voice that he didn’t know but certainly didn’t sound like the soft Midwestern drawl he was pretty sure that girl April had, began speaking. “Um, no. This is Peter’s roommate.” Ned didn’t recognize the name; he was about to say as much but the woman on the other end began speaking again, and Ned may have been having a crappy morning but his mother had raised him to be polite and he couldn’t just interrupt her. “This is Ned, right? That’s what Peter has this number listed as in his phone.”

“I don’t know a P-“ Ned began saying before the realization hit him. The woman had said she was someone’s roommate – Peter, Paul? Some generic white American name that Ned had honestly only half heard. Certainly someone who’s name Ned didn’t know, but who had his number saved in his phone.

Shit, shit, and double-shit.

Ned scrambled to back-track. “Wait, wait. Did you just send me a picture?” He demanded, trying not to sound accusatory.

“Yeah.” Ned could almost hear the “obviously” in her tone. “Peter fell asleep on the couch for the fourth time this week despite knowing I hate it, so I stole his phone and sent a picture of him to his most recent contact. That was you. Then he woke up and began freaking out, God knows why. So I called you so that you could deal with his weird loser ass. I memorized the number.” She added, either unaware or uncaring that Ned had stopped listening about half way through.

Ned knew Spider-Man’s name.

Spider-Man was currently freaking out that Ned knew Spider-Man’s name.

Ned knew Spider-Man’s name.

His name.

Ned knew it.

Spider-Man’s name was Peter.

Fuck.

“So I’m just going to give my phone to Peter so you can calm him down from whatever this shit is,” Pe-Spider-Man’s roommate began speaking again, rousing Ned from his own mini-panic. Ned had just enough sense left to understand her words.

“NO!” He hadn’t meant to yell but the idea of being forced to suddenly speak to Spider-Man was too much. He couldn’t just spring that on the other man when he was already freaking out. “I mean,” Ned tried for a calmer tone, “Peter probably wouldn’t want to have to talk to someone new right now, right?” Ned didn’t know anything about Peter but Spider-Man certainly didn’t like things sprung on him when he was in a mood. “Just, um, tell him to meet me at the place we always eat at, he  knows the one.” It was the lab where his super-suit was always fixed in, after all. 

Ned hung up the phone before the woman could respond but she must have relayed the message anyhow – or perhaps thought Ned was also a weird loser that wouldn’t be much of a help -  because she didn’t call back. Which left Ned with his own thoughts.

She hadn’t sent the picture to anyone else, which was a good thing. But she also didn’t seem to know that she had been using Spider-Man’s phone, which meant that for some reason Ned was in Spider-Man’s personal phone. Or should he call it Peter’s phone? He couldn’t. Spider-Man hadn’t given him that name; it would be wrong to use it. But he’d hadn’t told Spider-Man to meet him, he’d told Peter. But it would probably be Spider-Man that showed up to the lab, as he only ever seemed to come to the Tower in his suit or back up suit.

If he even showed up, that was. There was a good chance that he wouldn’t. The other man hadn’t spoken to him for days when he’d let slip that he went to college. This might actually cause him to disappear entirely from Ned’s life. Maybe Mr. Stark would actually fire Ned and hire someone who didn’t know Spider-Man’s real name and his face, to make the vigilante more comfortable. Ned wasn’t sure he could handle either of those options.

He was beginning to hate Spider-Man’s roommate.

Trying to reason with himself that there was no point in panicking or falling into a state of despair before anything happened, Ned forced himself to grab some of his nice work clothes and head to the shower. He may have had some potentially life-altering news dumped on him before he was even fully conscious, but that was no reason not to look his best.

His life may have quickly become a disaster, but that didn’t mean he had to look like it, too.

Ned showered quickly, lest the temptation of drowning himself under the spray become too much and dressed even more swiftly. He didn’t know whether or not Spider-Man would actually come to the office and face Ned but if he did, he would definitely get to the Tower a lot faster than Ned himself could. The perks of being able to web oneself across the New York skyline, rather than having to take the Subway like the average New Yorker. Ned was nearly calm enough to feel jealous about that.

He forced himself to stay calm as he packed his work bag and headed out of his apartment, locking the door behind himself. He forced himself to breath evenly as he made his way out of his apartment complex. He even managed to force out a smile at the newspaper stand worker who was stationed right next to his apartment as he made his way past to get to the nearest Subway stop. He could pretend this was just a normal work day. At least until he got to the office.

And if he accidently-on-purpose left his phone buried in the mess of blankets on his bed to resist the temptation of looking at that cursed image again, that was no one’s business but his own.

Ned’s commute from his Queens apartment to the Manhattan office took just over half an hour, which was more than enough time for his mind to come up with all sorts of horrible scenarios about how his meeting with Spider-Man was about to go. Ned’s least favorite, by far, was the one where the other man simply didn’t show up. He knew for a fact, that he would not be able to handle Spider-Man disappearing from his life. It would be like someone had ripped his heart from his chest and stomped on it.

So lost in his worries, Ned nearly missed his stop and had to rush out of the closing doors once he caught site of the platform name, giving out half-hearted apologies to the grumbling commuters he bumped along the way. He forced himself to slow down to a normal pace once he was in the station, following his fellow commuters up the stairs in a more or less orderly fashion. A potentially life-altering meeting was no reason to run down everyone else just trying to go about their day.

Stark Tower was only about a five-minute walk from the station and Ned’s heart started beating erratically once he caught sight of the building looming in front of him. To calm his thundering nerves, Ned slipped into the elegant, definitely over-priced coffee shop in the building right before the Tower. It was perhaps presumptuous, but Ned made sure to order a large iced black coffee and two blueberry scone alongside his regular order of a triple-shot caramel latte. The situation wasn’t about to be cured with food and coffee,  but Ned had never been in a situation where coffee and sweets wouldn’t have at least improved it.

The order didn’t take too long, despite the rather long line of customers, and Ned was out the door again far too soon. There was to be no more avoiding the Tower. Armed with his scones and coffee, Ned made his way into the imposing building, hoping against all hope that Spider-Man was waiting for him in his lab.

Ever the polite person, Ned made sure to greet the security guards at the door and the secretary at the front desk as he tried to balance his – and hopefully Spider-Man’s – breakfast in one hand and pull out his ID card with the other. It was a challenging task, but Ned was well versed in juggling coffee and fishing things out of his pockets at the same time and he nearly had it when a smooth, suspiciously familiar voice called out to him. 

“Here, let me help you with that.” Ned’s heart just about seized when he heard that soft, slightly-accented voice behind him and he turned, far too quickly, to catch the source of it. He had to be imagining things or Mr. Stark had to have hired a new recruit from Queens because there was no way –

The man from the picture was standing just in front of Ned. For a split second, Ned tried to convince himself that he was seeing things but it was definitely him –same light brown, still sleep-tussled hair, just long enough to curl over his ears, same pale-pink skin, same firm chin and high cheekbones. He was about the same height as Spider-Man was - much to Ned’s dismay -  standing just a few inches above him but his posture was different than anything he’d seen his masked friend adopt, slumped over just slightly as if unsure about the space he was taking up, hands deep in his pockets and dressed in an overly large, faded sweater and jeans. He was staring at Ned a little warily, his eyes – the softest doe-brown Ned had ever seen – just a tad unsure.

There was no mistaking him, even though Ned had only seen his face once. This was the guy from the image.

This was Peter.

Ned’s hand loosened its grip around the cardboard coffee holder he’d been given as he stared at the man in front of him, mouth gaping in shock. His gaze only broke when the two drinks hit the ground, splashing both men with a truly unpleasant mixture of hot and cold liquid.  

“Fuck!” Ned said, jumping back. His exclamation was followed very quickly with an apology. “Oh my God, oh my God, I’m so sorry!” He rushed forward, without thinking, towards the other man – Ned staunchly refused to call him Spider-Man or Peter or anything else, because there was no way Spider-Man was currently standing in front of him unmasked and in completely casual clothing – who had definitely received the brunt of the scalding and icy mixture. In his haste, Ned slipped and– to his complete mortification – fell straight into the other man. It was truly unfair how effortlessly the man seemed to catch Ned, balancing their joint weight with no sign of strain while warm hands landed on Ned’s hips, steadying him.

“Careful,” he said and Ned’s heart froze because there was no mistaking that voice. That was definitely Spider-Man’s voice. Ned felt his cheeks warm, grateful more than ever before for his dark complexion, and hastily stepped from the other man’s arms. He may have fantasized, sometimes, about being in Spider-Man’s arms but never like this. This was actually – and Ned had never thought it would happen -  worse than their first meeting. “You okay?” There was concern in the other’s – Peter’s Ned’s traitorous mind supplied – voice and Ned felt a stab of hysteric guilt. Spider-Man’s entire secret identity had been leaked so thoroughly that he hadn’t even bothered wearing the suit to meet Ned and he had managed to make such a fool of himself that the other man was actually worried about him.

God, but Ned was a mess.

“I –“ Ned’s voice went suddenly dry as he realized just how close the other man still was. He could clearly see the soft golden circles within the brown of the other man’s eyes and the small scattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. They were unfairly distracting. “fine.” He squeaked out. Peter frowned, seemingly unconvinced.

“Maybe we should go upstairs?” He suggested. “Talk there?” He seemed calm. Much more calm than Ned would have expected; but maybe that was because Ned was very nearly panicking and everyone seemed calm by comparison.

“Yeah – upstairs.” He’d apparently lost all ability to speak in full sentences. That was certainly an unwanted development. He tried to steel his thoughts, determined to get at least one completed sentence out. “But, um, I gotta clean this.” Ned’s face felt way too hot as he gestured vaguely towards the mess on the ground. His whole body did, now that he thought about it.

“Don’t worry about it - a janitor’s already coming.” Peter pointed towards one of the service elevators from which a dark-haired woman was indeed approaching, pushing a bright yellow mop bucket with a small scowl on her face. “She’ll clean it better than we could anyway.” Peter placed a hand on the small of Ned’s back to guide the other forward and Ned went willingly, brain going into overdrive with the fact that Peter was touching him.

He was so distracted by the gentle warmth that he almost didn’t notice how the other man didn’t bother swiping anything to get through the security, just tapped his fingers quickly over the scanner in a way that Ned had only seen Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner do before. Had there been any doubts left in his mind about who Peter was, they were completely gone now.

Peter was Spider-Man.

Spider-Man was gently leading Ned to the elevators.

Spider-Man was walking with Ned, completely unmasked.

Spider-Man, in a truly unfair twist of fate, was somehow more attractive than Ned had ever imagined.

And Ned had imagined a lot.

Ned had no idea what to do with that information, so he decided to play smart. He stayed completely silent throughout the entire elevator ride, clutching the bag of scones he’d managed to keep a hold on a tad too tightly. Peter had dropped the hand from his back once they’d entered the elevator but the other man was still close enough that he could feel the warmth emanating off him. Ned probably should have moved away – there was plenty of room in the elevator for them to be at a more respectable distance – but despite the sheer awkwardness of the situation, Ned found the closeness pleasant and reassuring. It was a familiar feeling as Spider-Man wasn’t much into boundaries, often crowding in close to Ned to monitor the modifications and the repairs going into the suit or sitting down close enough that their bodies brushed together as they ate or studied together.

 Evidently, Peter was the same as Ned’s heart nearly threw itself out of his chest when the other man’s fingers brushed against his as the elevator came to a stop. Ned couldn’t help but flinch slightly away at the feeling although he immediately tried to hide it by stepping forward as the doors opened.

“Sorry.” Spider-Man – Peter – said quietly from behind him and Ned instantly felt guilty. He may have been feeling utterly weird about this whole situation, but it was infinitely worse for the other man whose entire secret identity had been leaked. Even if it was just to Ned, it was an awful thing to have happened. Ned needed to get it together and be there for the other man.

“No worries.” Ned forced himself to respond, trying to put some cheerfulness in his voice. Maybe pretending everything was normal would be the key here. He honestly had been expecting Spider-Man to show up on the verge of a panic attack, if he had even shown up at all so he hadn’t prepared himself for a casually dressed Peter to show up acting relatively calm, but maybe the other man just wanted it to seem normal. Ned could do normal.

After all, it was perfectly normal for a stupidly attractive man to be standing just a few inches away from Ned as he scanned his Stark ID and entered his personal code in front of the door to one of the most confidential labs in Stark Tower. A stupidly attractive man who also happened to be the elusive Spider-Man. Who Ned was in love with. Completely normal.

Ned forced the urge to let out a nervous giggle down as he led Peter into the lab. He felt guilty letting Peter into the lab, as if he was betraying Mr. Stark’s privacy. Except he wasn’t, because this was actually Spider-Man and he’d been here hundreds of times -  even had his own code for entering the entire building. He had far more clearance than Ned did. That didn’t make it any less weird to see the man standing in the center of the room, nearly exactly where Spider-Man had been standing when they first met in that atrociously ‘fixed’ suit. It was strange how familiar and unfamiliar the man felt at the same time – the way he stood, slightly bent down with his long fingers drumming a nervous beat against his own thighs, head cocked ever so slightly as he looked everywhere but at Ned was exactly the way Spider-Man stood when he didn’t want to tell Ned how the suit had ended up in whatever pitiful state he’d brought it in; but the expression on his face – full lips turned down in a frown, nose scrunched slightly and warm eyes wary, obviously unsure how to proceed now that he’d succeeded in getting Ned up here, was something Ned had no experience with whatsoever.

It hit Ned then, quite suddenly, that although he knew Spider-Man better than just about anyone – knew him warmly, the way close friends always seemed to know each other – he knew next to nothing about the man before him. He was a complete stranger, a foreigner in the strange world Ned and Spider-Man had created together in the privacy of this lab. They didn’t know each other; had never intended to know each other for a whole slew of completely legitimate reasons. Yet, here they were. Standing together in a room that was simultaneously too large and much too small in what had to be the world’s most awkward silence.

Ned felt infinitely sad, for a moment – in a way he couldn’t quite explain but felt with every pang of his nervous heart – but he pushed it all aside. So, he didn’t know this man like he knew Spider-Man. That was easy enough to fix. He bunched his face into a determined expression and marched his way towards the other man, outstretching a hand to him.

“Ned Leeds.” He introduced himself, pushing away the somewhat awkward feeling of telling his name to someone who already knew it. It was a symbolic gesture, anyway. And sweet. It was definitely sweet.

Or it would have been if Peter hadn’t been so surprised by the gesture that he just stared at Ned without taking his hand. Ned made an impatient sound and grabbed the other man’s hand and shaking it for emphasis. Peter’s expression just turned more confused.

“I know who you are, Ned.” The tone in Peter’s voice was slightly concerned, as if he was just now realizing that perhaps Ned hadn’t connected the dots on who he was. Ned resisted rolling his eyes by reminding himself that Peter had gone through quite an ordeal before even being awake and was therefore allowed to have a bit of stupidity. Just a bit though.

“You know me as –“ Ned floundered for a moment – Peter hadn’t confirmed who he was yet and Ned didn’t want to scare the other man off by making it real, “the other guy.” He settled on although he, along with everyone else in the tower, knew that generally only referred to the Green, non-too-friendly giant side of Dr. Banner. Judging by the slight tick up on the corners of Peter’s lips, the other man knew it too. Ned decided to hurry along before Peter made some ridiculous joke. “You don’t know me as – this.” Ned tried to make a gesture with his hands but realized belatedly that Peter was still holding on to him which resulted in a rather awkward half-aborted movement that tugged Peter just slightly closer to him.

“This?” Peter repeated and there was definitely amusement in his voice now. Ned would be have felt embarrassed if his mind wasn’t currently locked on how close they were to each other now. He could count the rings of gold in Peter’s eyes and the faded freckles sprinkled across his nose and the upper parts of his cheeks. It was truly sinful how beautiful the other man was. “I am not a this.” There was an all-too-familiar petulant sound to his tone now, breaking Ned out of whatever trance he’d been in. He rolled his eyes theatrically but made no effort to step away from him. He’d been this close to Spider-Man before and this was hardly different. Except for the fact that his stupid pretty face was out for everyone to see and his hand was still firmly wrapped around Ned’s own.

“You’re right. You’re not a this, you’re an ass.” The response was out of Ned’s mouth before he could think – being sarcastic towards Spider-Man was second nature, after all – and he immediately regretted it. He was trying to be nice and understanding  and blatantly insulting the other man was definitely not the way to do that.

Luckily for Ned, Peter just laughed. It was such a familiar sound that Ned felt all worry and doubt flee. He did know this man, even if he had never seen his face. Knew him well, despite having only just learned his name. He was still Spider-Man, even without the suit, and Ned knew Spider-Man.

The laughter died as quickly as it had come and there was silence for a moment. Peter was looking down at Ned now, a bit of the wariness returning to his eyes. Ned’s heart clenched, half terrified about what the other man had to say. Maybe he was going to be fired after all. Or maybe Peter was going to say he couldn’t see Ned anymore; that it was too dangerous. Countless fears ran through his mind as the silence stretched on as though it was going to last forever. Ned’s dread grew with every ticking second, sure that whatever was going to come out of the other man’s mouth was going to shatter Ned’s heart.

Peter finally opened his mouth to speak and Ned braced himself, trying hard not to let the panic and hurt show on his face. “It’s nice to meet you, Ned.” Ned blinked in surprise. His shock must have shown on his face because Peter’s lips curled up into a smile as if he couldn’t help but be amused at Ned’s expense. He’d be affronted, he really would. But that smile, slightly crooked and more than a little shy, was beautiful. Ned had wondered many times about that smile; every time Spider-Man’s had creased in the way that Ned knew meant the other man was grinning, he’d wondered what it would look like. Every time Spider-Man had grinned with his mask pushed up around his nose, Ned had wondered how it would look with his entire face bared.

It was dazzling the way Peter’s whole face lit up, even with the smallest of smiles. Breathtaking the way the smile made his eyes crinkle as they shone with their own amusement. It was more beautiful than he’d ever imagined.

Peter was more beautiful than he’d ever imagined.

“My name is Peter Parker,” he finally continued, eyes still shining. Ned momentarily forgot to breath as he realized that the other man had just given him his entire name. That Spider-Man had just given him his whole name. Peter Parker – it was an average name, really, but it sounded like bells in Ned’s head and it rolled like honey off the other man’s tongue. Ned didn’t know what to think; his mind had fully shut down although his mouth hadn’t yet. He couldn’t stop himself from saying something stupid.

“Your parents really liked alliteration, huh?” Ned regretted the words the moment they were out of his mouth but Peter just laughed.

“To be fair, my middle name is Benjamin. So either they weren’t too fond of it or they were really bad at it.” It was Ned’s turn to laugh, then and Peter’s whole face lit up as he grinned back at the shorter man. And oh, was it a beautiful sight. It felt right, standing here with Peter, no mask or suit between them; Ned had nearly forgotten why he had been so convinced this was going to end in flames. All those worries seemed silly now, standing next to the other man.

They were awful close again, Ned realized as his laughter faded away, replaced with his own smile to match Peter’s. And Peter still held his hand in his own firm grip, his slender fingers tracing featherlight circles against the back of Ned’s. Ned looked down at their clasped hands, heart beating unsteadily. Spider-Man had never held Ned’s hand – the closest had been the firm slap of their palms together as they did their secret handshake. It was nice, surprisingly, but rather strange. Ned didn’t know what it meant, Peter holding his hand; but it made his heart skip and his face warm.

“You know,” Peter finally broke the silence, his amused smile turning wry as Ned looked up at him. His voice was surprisingly quiet, nearly a murmur although Ned couldn’t figure out why the other man would be whispering in a room he knew was sound-proof. “this isn’t exactly how I pictured this whole identity-reveal thing going.”

It took a moment for Ned to understand the words. His eyes widened when the implication became clear. “You’d been planning on telling me?” He blurted, trying and failing to hide the sheer surprise in his tone. “Why?” He searched Peter’s face for an answer. He and Ned both knew how dangerous Spider-Man’s life was, how close he came to dying on more occasions than Ned would ever be comfortable with. Knew what kind of targets people around him would be. Both had known that Ned could never know who he really was. Or, at least, Ned had thought they both had known. But somewhere, for some reason, Peter had decided differently. Had decided Ned was worth trusting with his deepest, most dangerous secret.

Ned’s traitorous heart couldn’t help but beat a little faster at the implication that came first to his mind as he stared up at the taller man. Peter was still smiling, a small, nearly fond smile as though Ned had said something endearing although he couldn’t imagine what that possibly was.

“Mr. Stark said I had to, before I told you this other thing I wanted you to know.” Peter’s words were casual and light, as though he was commenting on the weather or last night’s game’s score and not revealing that he and Tony Stark apparently had conversations about Ned without the man in question having any idea. But his hand had clenched a little tighter onto Ned’s as though he was nervous despite himself. Ned’s heart thundered in his chest.

“What other thing?” He asked, his own voice now a whisper to match the other boy’s. Peter didn’t respond right away, and Ned asked again, voice firm. “What other thing did you want to tell me, Peter?” It was the first time he’d said his name. Ned didn’t even realize, but Peter did. A flush spread across his pale skin.

“Say it again.” He ordered, still pink. Ned frowned, unsure what he had said to draw out such a response but he decided to appease the other man.

“What other thing did you want to tell me?” He dutifully repeated. Peter just shook his head.

“Not the question. My name.” His flush was darker now, his cheeks nearly red. The sight made Ned’s heart pound even harder, as though it was trying to beat itself out of his chest, but he obeyed.

“Peter.” He whispered, unable to hold back his own grin at the dazzling smile that spread across the other man’s face. He was starting to understand,  albeit a bit slowly, what the other man had wanted to tell him. Or maybe he was just hopeful, reading too much into the way Peter’s hand squeezed his as that delightful flush spread down towards the other man’s neck. “What did you want to tell me?” He asked again, unable to keep the hope of his voice. God, he really hoped he wasn’t reading too much into this.

Peter didn’t respond. He just looked down at Ned, his cheeks still pink. There was a fondness in his expression again that Ned couldn’t quite understand. He didn’t get long to read into it however, as suddenly Peter was leaning in and Ned’s brain was short-circulating as his heart made a valiant effort to pitch itself out of his chest.

When Peter’s lips brushed against his, soft and unsure, Ned melted. It was every bit as wonderful as Ned had imagined, feeling soft lips against his own and he found himself pressing in without thinking, deepening the kiss. A dim voice in the back of Ned’s head screamed that this was a bad idea – screamed that they should be talking right now, that Ned had basically just met this guy and there was still a lot of things to talk about, that they were technically in public and Mr. Stark could walk right in whenever he wanted – but then Peter wrapped his arms around Ned’s waist and lifted him up onto one of the benches scattered around the room as he deepened the kiss and all thoughts fled Ned’s mind.

He was kissing Spider-Man. Kissing Peter. And Peter was kissing him back. Enthusiastically.

There was nothing else Ned wanted to think about but the way Peter’s lips slotted against his own, the way Peter groaned as Ned nipped lightly against his bottom lip before soothing it with an apologetic swipe of his tongue. The way Peter’s mouth chased his own as Ned moved back slightly to catch his breath; the way a shudder ran through him as Peter’s fingers slid teasingly under the hem of his shirt to run across the bare skin of his hips. The way Peter’s soft tussled brown hair felt between Ned’s fingers as he tangled his fingers in it, the way Peter moaned slightly as Ned tugged against it before letting go to trace his way down Peter’s neck before resting on his chest. The way his own breath hitched as Peter’s hands left his hips to tug questioningly on the hem of his shirt.

He didn’t want to think anything about anything but the way Peter’s eyes were heated as he pulled away, his cheeks flushed and lips red as he breathed raggedly. The way Ned’s own breath matched his, ragged and deep; the way Peter’s body seemed to tremble ever so slightly is Ned’s fingers traced their way from his chest to Peter’s hips before tightening around the hem of Peter’s shirt and tugging on it in turn, answering Peter’s unspoken question with one of his own. The way Peter flushed darker, searching Ned’s face for reassurance, making sure without any words that this was what the other man wanted. The way the shirt felt against his skin as it was lifted slowly, almost teasingly. The way Peter’s breath hitched when Ned began doing the same, revealing pale, perfect skin as he lifted his shirt slowly up and –

“Oh Jesus Christ!” A loud, shocked and unmistakable voice rang out and Peter jumped back from him quickly as both men scrambled to push their shirts back down. Mr. Stark was standing in the entrance to the lab, his back turned as though to preserve the modesty of Ned and Peter – or perhaps his own eyes, as he seemed to be mumbling under his breath – and Ned had never hated anyone more than he did his boss, in that moment.

“Did you need anything?” There was a curtness in Ned’s voice that he had tried and failed to tamp down as he glared at the older man. He didn’t even bother hopping down from the counter he was perched on, hoping to preserve some of his dignity by acting unfazed. He’d been caught with a boy once, back in high school when he’d still been living with his parents which had been the most humiliating experience of his life, and then again by his college roommate on more than one occasion, so at least he had some experience in these kinds of situations. Peter, who was standing just outside of Ned’s reach and giving his best impression of a tomato, evidently didn’t.

“Are you decent?” Mr. Stark retorted in response, still not turning around. Ned made a show of rolling his eyes even as Peter’s blush darkened.

“Yes. Unfortunately.” Ned couldn’t help but add even as Peter squawked in response, shooting a rather scandalized look at him.

Mr. Stark turned towards them then, saving Ned from Peter’s expression by immediately drawing the attention of both younger men. Despite his rather loud exclamation and angry sounding grumbling, he was smirking in a way that almost always spelt trouble. “So.” He paused for effect, sweeping his gaze between both men. Ned felt his face warm despite himself while Peter beside him turned an even more vibrant shade of red. “I got an interesting call saying one of my favorite interns had made a huge mess in the lobby and, since I know that particular guy only spills things when he’s shocked or distressed,” Ned looked down briefly, feeling  embarrassed despite himself. He didn’t drop things that often. “So I came up here to make sure he was okay, because despite what the press likes to say, I am a decent boss.” He wasn’t even bothering to hide the amusement in his tone, his smirk widening as he continued speaking. “Turns out my other favorite got to him first. That’s certainly a hell of a way to cheer someone up, Pete. Glad to see you took my advice and finally told him.” He added, smirking at Peter whose flush had now reached past his neck.

Ned remembered then, that Peter had mentioned he had told Mr. Stark he had another thing he wanted Ned to know. It was equal parts embarrassing and endearing that the other man had apparently gone to Mr. Stark for advice about him. “I didn’t really use your advice.” Peter mumbled, sounding a tad but disgruntled as he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. Ned couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on his lips as he recognized the gesture. Spider-Man did it often when Ned was lecturing him about the latest injury to the suite. “I kind of got –“ he searched for a word. “Outed.” He settled on after a moment and Ned had to bite back the laugh that bubbled up at that particular word choice.

“You got – outed?” Mr. Stark repeated, one perfect eyebrow lifting up. Ned felt guilty, in that moment, and took pity on the other man.

“His roommate sent me a picture of him unmasked while he was sleeping and then revealed his first name when she called me to try and figure out why he was freaking out,” briefly Ned wondered if he was saying anything incriminating about the other man, something that would embarrass him. Then he remembered that Mr. Stark had caught them in a rather compromising position and figured there wasn’t any more dignity for either of them to lose. “So we met here to discuss where to go from there.” And ended up in a rather fantastic make-out session, but he didn’t need to add that part.

Mr. Stark was silent for a moment, obviously trying to take in the information  that he was given. Then, in true Mr. Stark fashion, he burst out laughing.

“It’s not that funny.” Peter grumbled from besides Ned; he was less red than before and he had stepped close enough that Ned could reach out and snag his hand if he wanted to. He didn’t, unsure if Peter would be up for touching, but it was nice to know that it was an option. Nice to know that Peter was still comfortable enough to be near Ned after what they had done.

“Only you, Underoos.” Mr. Stark said once he had finally calmed down and Ned had to bite back another laugh, trying to take pity on the man beside him. “Only you could develop a crush for someone you work with without being able to tell them who you are,  work up the courage to tell them who you are regardless, and then get outed by an asshole roommate.” The summary set Mr. Stark into another fit of laughter and Ned watched as Peter gave a rather astounding eye roll in response.

“Yeah, you done? Obviously, Ned is fine. I’m fine. And neither of us want you in here.” Peter said the last bit rather pointedly and Ned felt his body warm in a not entirely unpleasant way. Mr. Stark’s laughter calmed down as he waved the younger man’s words off.

“Yeah, yeah. I can see you’re both very busy. Please go somewhere else though, yeah? I don’t pay the cleaning staff enough for that.” He had already turned around so he missed the way Peter reddened or the way Ned had become interested in the specks on the floor. He was gone before either of the men looked up at each other again.

“Um.” Peter tried to break the silence, glancing over at Ned who was still perched on the counter. Ned offered a small smile at him, feeling suddenly rather shy now that the heat of the moment was gone. “That was – not how I expected this to go.” Peter admitted and Ned had to tamp down the brief stab of panic that arose. Peter didn’t sound like he regretted anything, just surprised. He should wait until the other man finished speaking before he worried. “Not that it was bad or anything –“ Peter hastened to add, probably reading the worry on the other man’s face. “I just, well I had a plan, coming here. And just kissing you wasn’t part of it, y’know. Not that the kissing wasn’t great – I just,” He was flushing again, and Ned couldn’t help but let his smile grow larger as he slid off the table to stand closer to Peter.

“It was something, alright.” Ned put just the right amount of teasing in his tone to elicit a darker flush on Peter’s cheeks as he tentatively placed his hands on his chest. Peter seemed to melt slightly under his touch, although his flush stayed in place.

“It really was.” Peter said, a smile playing on his lips as he wrapped his own arms around Ned’s waist and pulled him closer. He didn’t kiss him again though, as Ned had been expecting, and it was hard not to let out a pout. “I’d planned to be a bit more…” Peter fumbled for a word again. “traditional. With this whole thing. I wanted to ask you out on a proper date before, well.” He was flushing still and although Ned had thought him beautiful before, he was downright exquisite now, equal parts shy and wanting.

“A proper date?” he couldn’t help but ask, the smile evident in his voice even as he tried to keep his face neutral. “Were you going to court me, Mr. Parker?” His smile broke through then, as Peter groaned slightly but made no attempt to break their light embrace.

“A date isn’t courting. It’s just – the correct way to do things. You go on a date, get to know someone a bit, then have the epic make out session. Those are the rules.” The rules from before Tinder, maybe. But it was endearing all the same, Ned had to admit. Especially considering it had taken three not-so-sober hook ups at gross frat parties with his last boyfriend before Ned had gotten asked out on any date.  

“Don’t you think we’ve gotten to know each other enough already?” He couldn’t help but ask. Peter shook his head in response.

“Not like this.” He moved one hand away from Ned’s waist to gesture at himself. “I wanted you to know me as Peter and not as Spider-Man. Without a mask between us. The way I’ve gotten to know you.” He looked vulnerable, unsure in that moment and Ned felt his heart leap in sympathy. He had briefly forgotten how much harder this situation was to the other man than it was for him; even if Peter had been planning on telling Ned anyway, having it done like this must have been a shock.

“I do know you, Peter.” Ned was careful to use his name as he spoke softly, moving his hands to wrap them around Peter’s neck and pull the other man down closer to him, so that their foreheads were touching. “Whether you’re in the suit or not, you’re still you. The only thing I learned about you today that I didn’t already know is your real name. And that you’re gorgeous.” He couldn’t help but add, smiling at the way Peter flushed at his words, “and that you’ll blush at anything.” He added, bringing his face up closer so that his words were brushing against Peter’s lips.

“Everything else though -,” he continued, his whisper barely above a murmur now.  “how smart you are,” he emphasized his words with a soft brush of his lips against the other man’s, “how sweet,” another brush. “How kind,” a full peck then. “How red is your favorite color.” Another brush this time, teasing and gentle. “How your favorite food is Thai but you’ll still eat anything.” A soft but firm press accompanied those words and Peter briefly chased his lips when he pulled away. “How you never seem able to keep your phone in one piece but you treat your books like your first-born infant.” He teased him then, not quite brushing his lips before pulling away again with a grin. “How you’re an awful sewer.” Peter full on groaned then, undoubtedly remembering their first encounter, the last time he’d ever tried to sew anything. Ned was about to go on without a teasing kiss at all but, in a bid to keep the other man from talking, Peter pressed his own lips firmly against him and Ned forgot his entire train of thought.

The kiss was a lot more modest than their earlier one, Peter pulling away for too soon for Ned’s liking. “You’ve made your point. But I still want to take you out on a date.” There was that stubbornness that Ned had seen in an abundance with Spider-Man that he both loved and hated.

“Certainly. We can go on as many dates as you want. After.” Peter’s brow rose up in question.

“After?” he echoed, just as Ned hoped he would. “After what?”

Ned grinned and pressed his lips against Peter’s once more. He didn’t bother with modesty the way the other had, pressing his body against Peter’s in a way that made it very clear what he had in mind. The other man groaned in response and Ned took the opportunity to nip at his bottom lip again, winding his fingers in his hair and tugging just hard enough that the other man tightened his fingers against his hips in response. Ned grinned against his lips in response; the other man was too easy. When he pulled away, Peter groaned again in protest.

“Don’t you want to go on that date now?” Ned asked innocently, hiding his amusement behind a smile. Peter’s hands tightened against him in response.

“After.” He replied and it was Ned’s turn to raise an eyebrow. Peter waited, obviously expecting a response and Ned couldn’t help the grin that bloomed on his face.

“After what?” He dutifully asked him. Peter kissed him in response, pressing into him until Ned’s back was pressed against the bench, his hands slipping under his shirt urgently, with none of the previous hesitancy. It was Ned’s turn to groan as Peter’s hands explored the skin of his bare hips before pressing hard against the small of his back. His breath was ragged when Peter pulled away and he was glad the other man stayed pressed against him because he was fairly certain he wasn’t quite up for standing on his own.

“How close is your apartment?” Ned asked breathlessly. Peter’s eyes lit up even as a flush spread cross his cheeks and Ned was briefly caught off by how beautiful the other man really was. Couldn’t get over how lucky he was that this other man somehow liked him back.

When they got to Peter’s apartment, he’d have to thank his roommate.

After, of course.