Work Text:
“Yo, dude, what the Hell is up with Peter?” Brad asks when the two of them are alone in an elevator in the hotel in Prague.
Flash startles, looking away from the weird paisley wallpaper that’s plastered wall to ceiling of the creaking elevator. Eugh. Even though this hotel is certainly one Hell of an upgrade compared to their, ah, “accommodations” in Venice, the colours and patterns inside of this elevator are well on their way to giving him a headache. Just once on this trip he would like to stay at a normal hotel with normal, regular interior decorating. He really doesn’t think that’s too much to ask. “Uh, what?”
Brad looks at him incredulously. “You know, Peter being all -” he makes a weird, hand-wavy gesture that Flash can’t accurately describe. It’s somewhat like a cross between jazz hands and the wave. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed, man.”
“Bro, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Flash says slowly.
“Are you serious? Haven’t you noticed him being sketch? He keeps on, like, vanishing whenever we’re supposed to stick together, like at the opera, and all the teachers don’t give a shit -”
“That’s just Parker,” Flash says.
“That’s - that doesn’t make any fucking sense, you know that! You know, that’s exactly what Ned told me when I asked him -”
“Woah, wait, you asked Leeds about Parker’s ‘sketchiness’?”
“Well, yeah, who else was I gonna ask?”
“ Me! ”
“ That’s what I’m doing! ”
“I - fair enough,” Flash says. Point taken. He takes a breath, looks back at the paisley pattern covering the walls. This elevator is super slow, what the fuck, he thought this hotel was supposed to be nice or whatever. “Look, dude, you don’t know Parker like the rest of us do, aight? He always dips on things, like how he did in D.C. or at Homecoming. Just don’t question it.”
“How can I not question it?” Brad asks, throwing his hands up in the air. He must’ve been inspired by the Italians; Flash could’ve sworn that Brad had not been as expressive with his hands before this trip. (Well. It’s not like Flash really knew Brad before the Blip, but shh.) “You know what, fine,” he says when Flash opens his mouth to speak, “I’ll try and ignore it. But it’s weird, okay. Just because you guys are all used to him doesn’t mean he’s not weird.”
The elevator dings as the doors open onto their floor, and Brad steps out with a huff into the hallway before Flash can think of a reply.
And he can’t help but replay that conversation over in his mind later that night after half of the class almost dies when a fire-monster attacks them at the carnival they weren’t even supposed to be at, and Parker, in a fucking classic Parker move, is absolutely nowhere to be seen, even though Betty swore up and down that she saw him leave to go to the carnival. Flash doesn’t miss the pointed look Brad throws in his direction when Mr. Harrington does roundup at the hotel and exclaims, “Has anyone seen Peter? If you say yes I will count it as an extra credit assignment next year.”
“I haven’t seen him since the opera,” Brad says, a weird, smug look on his face, like he’s somehow benefitting from this whole situation.
Flash rolls his eyes, glancing slightly to where Ned is comforting Betty as she freaks out off to the side of the group. Maybe Brad is benefitting from Peter’s sketchy antics, Flash has no idea. He doesn’t particularly care, in all honesty. But for some reason, he finds himself frowning in Brad’s direction after the other guy has turned his attention elsewhere. There’s a difference between the jabs that Flash says to Peter, and actually being happy that the guy is missing after their group was literally just attacked by a fucking monster made out of fire -
But then Peter shows up, just like he showed up in Venice, just like he showed up a year (six years) ago in D.C., and Flash lets out what could be called a sigh of relief as he relaxes his brow and straightens out his expression. Brad doesn’t know what he’s talking about.
(Flash also doesn’t miss how, despite his claims to have been running away from the monster, Peter’s clothes are crystal clean, with not a single speck of ash or dirt anywhere to be seen. His hair is a mess, though. He really should invest in a hairbrush, Flash thinks. Or some gel. Flash could even give him some reccomendations - he’s a fucking hair gel conniseur, thank you very much.)
-
Flash is pretty certain he’s about to die.
He’s barricaded in the vault with Ned, Betty, and Michelle, of all people. Plus some sweaty white guy who apparently works for Spider-man (which Flash would one hundred percent be freaking out about if he wasn’t already preoccupied with freaking out about his imminent and tragically untimely death). Michelle is holding a mace (? He’s not a historian, thanks, he knows jack all about ancient weapons. He thinks it’s a mace. Don’t sue him.) and Flash isn’t sure whether or not he’s comforted by how easily she had downed the other drone.
It’s sad, though, that Flash’s chance of survival hinges on a moody teenage girl and her ability to wield an ancient English weapon.
This isn’t how I want to die , he thinks, and it terrifies him because it’s true. Leeds’ confession was that he’d spent most of his life playing video games, and as fucking lame as that is, Flash is almost... jealous.
And Flash is familiar with jealousy; he knows every goddamn shade of it. His envy might manifest as anger and assholery, but those are just symptoms. Because jealousy is a disease , it’s a sickness, and Flash has been burning up with a fever, one that refuses to break, for his entire life.
Ned might not have done much for the world, sure, but at least he’s never actively made it a shittier place. But Flash can’t always control the way his fists clench and teeth grind together and how his vision burns green green green whenever he sees a casual display of friendship or hears a laugh that isn’t undercut with bitterness. He can’t cure the disease.
...But he could ease the pain caused by the symptoms. After all, sometimes that’s all there’s left to do.
So he takes the jealousy worming in his guts and twists it into action instead of anger. He bargains. If I live through this , he thinks to whatever higher being is paying attention, if I live through this I’ll stop being a jerk.
If I make it out of this vault alive I’ll try and be nice to everyone.
The light of the drone’s laser grows steadier as the metal yields to the beam.
If I survive, Flash thinks, with his eyes squeezed shut and nails biting into his palm, I swear I’ll be a better person.
Suddenly, the laser stops, and there’s a resounding BANG that sounds suspiciously like a drone falling to the floor. Not that Flash knows what that sounds like. Just if he were hypothesizing.
He opens one eye, slowly, hesitant. “Is it -”
“He did it,” Michelle breathes.
“Oh, thank God,” the sweaty man says.
-
The thing about making bargains to an unspecified higher power when you’re pretty sure you’re not going to live past the next five minutes is that when you’re out of the life-threatening situation, you feel as though you have to make good on your side of the deal immediately.
Or at least, that’s how Flash feels. Therefore he doesn’t make fun of how Ned almost cries with relief at the fact that they’re not going to die. He makes zero sarcastic remarks about the way Parker and Jones let their heads rest on each other’s shoulders as they sleep on the flight back to New York.
And when Brad asks him what the hell happened in London, he doesn’t tell him a single thing. Nothing about the sweaty white man who had ushered them back to safety, nothing about the loaded glances traded between Michelle and Ned when they thought Flash hadn’t been paying attention, and certainly nothing about the conversation he had overheard between Peter and Michelle (“Did you break anyth -” “ Shh , yeah, but I’m okay.” “Peter!” “It’s already fine!”).
He’s tired. He wants to push the whole trip behind him and forget it ever happened and move on , but he can’t , because if he does then he’ll feel guilty about not making good on his internal promise, and the thing about guilt is that it likes to travel in packs. If he opens the door to one type of guilt, he knows that his conscience will start to play the highlight reel of Flash Thompson Being An Asshole, and he isn’t, like, psychologically capable of dealing with that right now. So it’s better for him to just… try and be a decent person while also trying to forget the reason for his change of heart. If that’s even possible for him to do. He’s never been emotionally capable at the best of times.
(Maybe he should get a therapist. Nah, his parents would rather have him bury his feelings underneath mountains of material goods; it’s always seemed to work well enough for them.)
But hey, he’s doing fine. Sure, his dreams are filled with drones and towering beings made of flames and lightning, but he’s handling it like a champ. You can’t be jet lagged if you just don’t sleep, right?
...Who’s he kidding. He’s never been more of a mess.
He distracts himself by going on his phone, refreshing his Twitter timeline, doing live Q&As on his Instagram story. It means he doesn’t have to think about the drones, the lightning, the fire. It means he doesn’t have to worry if he’s being an asshole or not, because it’s harder for him to be mean to people when there’s a phone screen between them.
But it also means that he’s constantly updated on any and all late breaking news. Especially when it’s about Spider-Man.
-
Flash hasn’t taken his eyes off his phone screen since he saw the newscast.
His head is beginning to get sore. His thumbs are starting to get sorer from all the typing, but he’s got a lot of questions, of course he has. He’s texted Michelle, he’s texted Ned, he’s texted his parents (not about anything related to the newscast, just asking when they’ll be home), and he’s texted Peter -
Well, of course he’s texted Peter. As has the entirety of Midtown, probably. He hasn’t received a response, though, but he’s not really bothered. He knows Peter probably has bigger things to worry about at the moment.
He opens up Twitter. Everyone on the app is freaking out . There’s, like, six Moments dedicated to the newscast alone, and his DMs are being flooded with people asking for his opinions on the news. Do you think it’s real? Is Spider-Man a bad guy now? Have you unstanned Spidey? What about Mysterio, do you think he’s really dead? He doesn’t respond to any of them. He doesn’t even know how he’d begin to respond.
He opens up a new tweet, thinks for a moment, and types it out. Hits “post”. Refreshes his timeline, and watches it appear at the top.
As the notifications begin to roll in, an uneasy feeling grows in the bottom of his stomach. One that feels a lot like the guilt he’s tried to push aside, except heavier.
Something that feels a lot like regret.
Flash Mob 💥 @no1spideyfan
I know Peter Parker. I believe in Spider-Man. #IStandWithSpidey - do you?
-
from:
peter parker
hey dude wanna meet spider-man
to:
peter parker
I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU!!!???
why did u tweet that. I mean thanks but uh why
….bro I’ve . Met u before what r u on
do u mean for like a video??? Yes I’d be down r u kidding
u better not be talking to any other YouTubers I stg
from:
peter parker
ok sick
to:
peter parker
Peter what does that MEAN
bro don’t do this to me
BRO..
from:
peter parker
:)
to:
peter parker
PETER .
-
There is a difference between knowing something and understanding it.
It’s a small difference, but it’s there. Knowing is passive, it’s absent. It’s fact regurgitation on a test and hitting the buzzer first at Decathlon. It’s dates, numbers, names. It’s simple . It’s easy.
Flash is familiar with knowing things, not just things related to school and homework. He’s made it his business to know things about everyone at Midtown, and yeah, okay, maybe that makes him a bit of an asshole. But he doesn’t use the information against people… most of the time at least. Some of the time.
Occasionally.
Flash is also familiar with understanding things, but these aren’t usually the type of things he likes to think about. He understands that his parents are always busy because they run a company, but that doesn’t do anything to ease the ache in his chest whenever he comes home to an empty house. He understands that they built a new life without him during the Blip, and his reappearance is going to make things harder. And he understands that getting validation and attention from random people on the internet won’t make things any better in the long run.
So he gets the difference between knowing and understanding. He gets how understanding something means you comprehend the knowledge in its entirety. Like, okay, knowing that the atomic mass of hydrogen is 1 gram per mol? That’s textbook, that’s memorization. But understanding that exactly how many atoms that would be puts it into perspective. His brain can’t even begin to comprehend numbers that large without shutting down.
Knowing, absently, that Peter Parker is Spider-Man is mind-blowing, earth-shattering, and damn-near- impossible , sure. He’s had a whole week to digest the information, yet each time he thinks about it his brain still hurts. But seeing Peter Parker standing in your living room, wearing his Spider-Man suit, holding his Spider-Man mask, after he just climbed the walls of your house immediately after swinging there because he’s Spider-Man and that’s something he does?
Here’s the change. Now shift the equilibrium. Find your balance, or you’re going to fall.
… Flash thinks he might pass out.
“Please don’t pass out,” Peter says. He’s fiddling idly with the material of the mask, his fingers twisting and pulling at the scarlet fabric that probably costs more than Midtown’s entire science budget. (A budget that Flash is very familiar with, given that his father donates towards it yearly.) It’s the same suit as he wore in England, from what Flash can tell; red and black as opposed to the original red and blue.
It’s a cool update, Flash thinks. It looks modern, yet almost edgier ; a Spider-Man that’s come back from the Blip with a vendetta. And now that he knows to look for it, Flash can see the shades of Peter woven into the design in almost imperceptible ways. It makes sense: after all, this is likely the first suit that wasn’t designed by Tony Stark.
(And hey, that’s a whole other thing Flash hasn’t even begun to process, the whole Stark Situation. There’s a lot to unpack there. He might just throw away the whole metaphorical suitcase, if he’s being honest.)
“I’m not going to,” Flash lies. “I - did you have to wear the, the -?”
“The suit?” Peter finishes. He tilts his head, considering. “There’s a tracker in it, so in case anyone tries any funny business the government will be able to find me. And,” he smiles slightly, “I couldn’t swing when I was under house arrest, so...” he shrugs. “I missed it.”
Flash raises an eyebrow. “Did you think I was going to try any ‘funny business’?”
Peter looks at him incredulously for a moment and sighs softly, shaking his head. “Flash, I can’t trust anyone anymore. It’s not about you.”
“Uh,” Flash replies eloquently. What the fuck does he say to that kind of admission? He already knows he’s incredibly emotionally insensitive at the best of times, but the only thing he can think to say right now is “oof, that’s rough,” and he thinks that might be pushing the asshole boundaries, even for him.
“I just thought you might be able to help me, is all,” Peter continues, oblivious to Flash’s internal crisis. He seems to be having one of his own, judging by the way he’s wringing the mask in his hands. “I mean, you always liked Spider-Man, and you have a dumb amount of followers, so -”
“But why would you come to me ?” Flash interrupts.
Peter stops abruptly and looks at him. Flash can’t really tell, but he thinks Peter might look scared . “I just said, you like Spider-Man. I assumed you wouldn’t believe the video, so…” he trails off slowly. “Am I wrong?”
“I mean, yeah, I always liked Spider-Man, but I hated you,” Flash says, confused.
A confusing display of emotions flicker across Peter’s face, before settling on something pointedly neutral. He crosses his arms, defensive. The mask hangs limply from one fist, a lifeless and dead form. “Do you still?”
“Well, yeah, but…” Flash pauses for a moment as he tries to gather up all the thoughts whirling around in his head so he can rearrange them into a cohesive sentence.
Peter speaks before he can finish his idea, though. “You know what,” the fear is back in his eyes, along with something that could be sadness , “I shouldn’t’ve come here.” He swallows. “I’ll go.” He turns to go back into the hallway that leads to the front door, out the house, and oh no, Flash cannot let that happen. No sir.
“No, wait!”
Peter whirls around, guestering wildly with his arms. The mask flops back and forth with the motion. “Wait for what, Flash?” he asks harshly. “What exactly am I waiting for, here?”
Flash swallows. “I thought you wanted to film a video,” he tries, hesitantly, gently. He doesn’t know exactly where Peter’s sudden anger has burst from, but he knows how pent up emotions can erupt at the slightest provocation, and he suspects that Peter hasn’t really had any sort of outlet to release his angst for the last week.
Peter barks a laugh, a sharp and ugly sound that rings in Flash’s ears. He shakes his head slightly. “Oh, yeah, that’s rich. What, did you realize you can’t bully me anymore, so you decided you’d try and use me instead, is that it?”
“What? No, I want to help you -”
“Why, because you care?”
“Yes!”
“Bullshit!” Peter yells. He glares at Flash, breathing heavily. “You literally just said you hate me -”
“That’s not - you didn’t let me finish! I care now -”
“You care about Spider-Man. You don’t give a fuck about me.”
“I thought you guys were the same person,” Flash says. “I thought that’s what all the drama was about.”
Peter opens his mouth to reply, then shuts it with a snap, clenching his jaw. He continues glaring at Flash, but he doesn’t say anything, so a tense and heavy silence descends on the living room like a cloud of fog.
“You came to me for help,” Flash continues, speaking slowly, “and I - look, I’m sorry for all the shit I’ve said, alright? I hated - yes, past tense - I hated you because I was jealous. I know it’s stupid,” he shrugs his shoulders slightly, “but that’s the truth.”
Peter is silent for a moment before he speaks, his voice dull and devoid of all of his previous anger and energy. “And what about now?” he asks, weary. Timidly. Afraid .
“Now I - I dunno,” Flash replies honestly, “but I know that I wanna help you. Not just because you’re Spider-Man -”
“Then why ?” Peter asks. “I just - why would you want to help me ?”
Flash swallows. “I almost died in England,” he says. “I was, like, ten seconds away from dying, and I realized that the only thing I’ve done with my life is, is just being an asshole, and it sucked , and now I’m just trying to -” he cuts himself off and takes a breath, trying to tamper down the waver that’s threatening to creep into his voice. “I don’t want to be an asshole my whole life,” he says, looking across the room at Peter, who’s staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face. “Let me help you. Give me a chance.”
Peter looks at him, really looks , and Flash wonders what he’s thinking as he takes in Flash’s appearance, unwashed hair, still in his pyjamas at two in the afternoon. He seems to be weighing Flash’s words carefully, but his face is a carefully crafted mask, devoid of emotions. It looks - strange, out of place. Flash almost wishes he had that same look fear or sadness instead, and immediately hates himself for the thought. Still, a Peter Parker that held his emotions inward was odd.
But, Flash supposes, the Blip changed people. He certainly isn’t the same person he was before. And Peter has faced a lot more shit than he has. He’s probably had a lot of practice keeping his emotions on the inside.
“Okay,” Peter says after what seems like an eternity. “I - okay.”
Flash can’t help the grin that breaks out across his face. “Okay,” he repeats, and watches Peter’s expression begin to mirror his own.
They stand there in the living room, facing each other without a single shred of animosity acting as a barricade between them, and Flash can’t speak for how Peter feels, but he knows that for him it feels like a breath of fresh air after suffocating his entire life.
-
“So how d’you wanna film this?” Flash asks less than half an hour later.
They’ve moved upstairs and into Flash’s room. His parents aren’t supposed to be home for another few hours, which gives them plenty of time to film a video - that is, if they can come up with what video they want to film.
Peter shrugs, taking a huge bite of his pizza. Flash had ordered them some ten minutes ago on UberEats, and once it was delivered he had proceeded to stare as Peter absolutely demolished one large pizza by himself. He was currently in the process of doing the same to a second one, but this one was a much slower going, thank fuck.
It’s - strange, between them. Yeah, Flash has had a week to digest the fact that his favourite superhero was the same guy he’s been bullying for the past few years, but some truths are just harder to swallow than others. Flash is trying his best to choke this one down past the weird lump in his throat, and it’s not easy, but he’s trying.
The way Peter keeps glancing in his direction when he thinks he isn’t looking, watching him like a startled animal that has to be handled carefully or else it will startle and run away, certainly isn’t helping, in any case.
Peter’s still in the Spider-Man suit, but he’s thrown one of Flash’s hoodies over the top half after Flash offered (the AC in his room is mental, even in the summer). The black zip-up hangs off him, and Flash is suddenly struck by how small Peter really is. Well, he’s always known that Peter’s short and relatively wimpy-looking, but Flash had always pictured Spider-Man as some larger than life figure, closer to Captain America’s height than Flash’s own. And yet Flash’s hoodies are baggy on him.
It’s another tough truth to swallow.
And Peter looks smaller than he usually does, too. Flash supposes that the stress over the last week hasn’t helped his physicality, but he looks tired and pitiful in a way that Flash has never seen him look before. He looks like he hasn’t eaten or slept well in months ; he looks like he hasn’t fully returned from the Blip. Like some part of him is still ash, blowing away in the wind somewhere.
“I don’t know,” Peter says after a moment, speaking around a mouthful of pizza. He swallows. “I thought you’d have some ideas.”
“Well, yeah, but it’s like, your video . You should come up with most of it. It should be, uh, genuine.”
Peter snorts. “Yeah, we wouldn’t want anyone to think I’m someone I’m not, that would be awful. Uh, I dunno, we could do a Q&A type thing?”
“Maybe,” Flash nods, “yeah, we could get people to submit questions on Twitter.”
“Start a tag, something like ‘Ask Spidey,’” Peter suggests. He grins, taking another bite, one that pulls half the cheese off the slice and gets pizza sauce all over his chin. Flash grimaces inwardly. “You’re pretty good at starting hashtags, I hear.”
“Well, yeah,” Flash says dismissively, ducking his head. He clears his throat. “Uh, so that’s one idea -”
“Why did you start the whole ‘Stand with Spidey’ thing anyways?” Peter interrupts.
His tone is nonchalant and his expression is passive, but Flash can see the way his hand, the one that isn’t holding the slice of pizza, is curled into a tight, tense fist. Now that he’s paying attention, actually, it seems as if Peter’s entire being is tense; ready to move at a moment’s notice. “I dunno,” Flash replies. “At first it was just, like, a way to see if my followers were supportive of you or not, but then it kinda blew up. I don’t know why.”
Peter is quiet for a moment before he speaks. “I stalked it,” he admits quietly. “When I was under house arrest.”
“Yeah?”
“I wasn’t doing that great, I - nightmares,” he flicks his eyes towards Flash briefly before casting them on the ground. “Felt like the world was out to get me, I dunno. It’s dumb, but I just, I needed to see if the people who didn’t already know me would still support me, you know? And it, it helped. It helped a lot.” He doesn’t say it, but Flash figures this is his roundabout way of thanking him.
He grins. “That’s good to hear.”
You don’t need to thank me, but you’re welcome anyways.
-
Flash Mob
💥 @no1spideyfan
This next video is INSANE, you guys aren’t gonna believe this !!!
Flash Mob
💥 @no1spideyfan
NEW VIDEO in TEN MINUTES #FlashMob
Flash Mob
💥 @no1spideyfan
NEW VIDEO - I INTERVIEW SPIDER-MAN!? (NOT CLICKBAIT) @peterbparker !!!! #SpideyVideo #FlashMob #IStandWithSpidey youtu.be/bU9V3a
peter
@peterbparker
check it hehehehe @no1spideyfan youtu.be/bU9V3a
chloe 35
@kiwichloe
STOP SPIDEY IS LITERALLY SO CUTE IM…………. HIS HAIR
jess
@mightbejess
oh wow the awkward finger guns when spidey was introduced. my brand
Buzzfeed Hero
@buzzfeedhero
Spider-Man got interviewed in a YouTube video and everyone’s freaking out (including us) bit.ly/J8gL30
chloe 35
@kiwichloe
YO NO WAYY DID THEY USE MY TWEET IN THE VIDEOIJFSKJDK
meg!!!
@sweetnermeg
@kiwichloe MINE TOO KFJOEROFOEW))
Spider-Man Source
@spideysource
🎥| Spider-Man is featured in @no1spideyfan ‘s recent video where he answers questions and addresses the identity leak, his current situation, and his plans for the future! #SpideyVideo youtu.be/bU9V3a
Spider-Man Source
@spideysource
@spideysource 💬| “For the past week I’ve been under protective custody, and it gave me a lot of time to think, so I did what most people would do and texted a guy I wasn’t really friends with to ask if I could be on his YouTube channel, and here we are!” #SpideyVideo
Spider-Man Source
@spideysource
@spideysource 💬| “It wasn’t that I was hiding anything. It’s not that. It’s just - I didn’t get to choose, right? And it’d be one thing if I was the only person affected, but I’m not, and it’s unfair. That’s unfair.” #SpideyVideo
Spider-Man Source
@spideysource
@spideysource 💬| “I felt like Hannah Montana. I guess that makes this whole situation the f*cking Hannah Montana movie, except I wasn’t exposed to just, like, one town in Tennessee. Yeah, no, that would’ve been a lot easier to handle.” #SpideyVideo
Spider-Man Source
@spideysource
@spideysource 💬| “No, I’m defo coming back to school. I would die if I was homeschooled, are you kidding me? [...] I’m a teenager. I just want to go to high school and graduate and go to university and have a normal life, you know?” #SpideyVideo
Spider-Man Source
@spideysource
@spideysource 💬| “I haven’t met Thor. Are you f*cking kidding me? I think I would die.” #SpideyVideo
Spider-Man Source
@spideysource
@spideysource 💬| “Teenagers are already running sh*t, I mean, there’s sixteen year olds at the top of the charts, highschoolers are at protests and rallies all over the place, so I dunno. A teenage superhero shouldn’t really have y’all too shook.” #SpideyVideo
Spider-Man Source
@spideysource
@spideysource 💬| “I already told Flash, but the hashtags meant a lot. You have no idea. I - thank you, really.” #SpideyVideo
peter
@peterbparker
u get the limo out front…...uwu
Trending in New York・ Change
#SpideyVideo
Spider-Man
no1spideyfan
Peter Parker
-
The video goes absolutely viral. It gets over a million views within the first hour of it being online, and it just keeps on growing from there. In the time between uploading it and waking up the next morning, Flash has received over four hundred thousand new subscribers, twenty-three offers for brand deals, and a text from Peter that simply read “ omg we blew up ”.
...Whatever that means.
It feels good, if Flash is being honest with himself. It feels like he’s finally getting that validation he’s been craving for so fucking long. It feels like maybe he’s on the right track to doing something good for once. He’s getting there. He thinks. He’s still in the process of shifting his equilibrium. He’s… just not exactly sure where he should go from here, is the issue.
He doesn’t want to be a one-hit-wonder. Not on his YouTube channel, and not on his grand “Not Being An Asshole Anymore” plan, either. Yeah, he’s made good on his prayer and/or promise that he’d made back in London, but it’s not just about that anymore. He wants to start fresh, and God knows he’s got a lot more to do if he wants to even balance his moral scales, let alone tip them to the other side.
He knows he’s no saint. He’s never going to be the kind of guy that always puts others first like Peter . But, well, he had just helped Peter out in a pretty huge way. That was kind of a miracle in and of itself, so maybe he’s halfway to sainthood already. Maybe it’s not really as hard as it seems.
Everything’s good. He feels alright with himself. He coasts on his contentedness for a few days, happy to just be , for a change.
Until the day his Father comes home from work in a bad mood, and the other shoe drops.
-
to:
peter parker
hey uh where r u rn
from:
peter parker
im at home? why
to:
peter parker
r u busy
actually nvm im fine
from:
peter parker
no im not
whats happening?
where r u????
to:
peter parker
im fine
forget it
from:
peter parker
flash dont b stupid i can get to u in like 5 minutes max
r u at home?
r u ok???
what’s going on
hello?????
to:
peter parker
…
im in my room
come in thru the window don’t let my dad see u
from:
peter parker
ohh
ok ill b there in 3
to:
peter parker
thought u said 5?
from:
peter parker
yeah but i left when i first got ur text lol
already on the move
to:
peter parker
oh
alright
from:
peter parker
im here
-
“You gotta be quiet,” Flash says once Peter’s head is through the window. His figure is backlit by the evening sky, clouds tinted orange from the sunset hanging above the buildings outside, but Flash doesn’t really need to see who it is. Only one person would be able to access his bedroom window; it’s on the second floor, after all. “My dad’s got the TV on downstairs, but still. If he hears you...” he trails off.
Peter nods in acknowledgement and drops silently into Flash’s room. He’s in the Spider-Man suit again, but Flash doesn’t even blink at it this time. He’s got other things on his mind at the moment. “What happened?”
“He watched the video. Our video. And -” Flash cuts himself off. Sighs. Casts his gaze at the ground.
He hears Peter slide the window shut. “And - holy shit, did he hit you?”
“What? No, no. No. He just - yelled. I - I dunno why I texted you. Sorry.”
The mattress dips as Peter sits down on the bed beside Flash. “Hey, don’t be sorry, you helped me, so,” he shrugs, “least I can do is make sure you’re alright -”
“Right,” Flash huffs. “Just returning the favour.”
“- but I’d come even if I wasn’t. Returning the favour, that is.”
Flash is silent for a moment. Doesn’t say anything. Grinds his teeth together. “He doesn’t like the YouTube or Insta stuff,” he admits after a minute. “My dad. He doesn’t see the point. I just - I dunno how to explain it to him to make him understand.”
“Well,” Peter says, “how ‘bout you explain it to me.”
If someone had told Flash at the start of the summer that he would be talking about things like this with Peter fucking Parker of all people, he would’ve looked at them as if they were insane, or on drugs, or maybe both. But Peter had been honest with him. It’s the least Flash can do.
Return the favour.
“I wanna do something, you know? Something that wasn’t handed to me. And yeah, if I’m being honest, it didn’t start out like that, I just wanted clout or whatever, but I dunno. Now I have this chance to do more, so of course I’m gonna take it. And,” he swallows, “that feeling you get when you do something right, that validation, it’s, it’s nice. He doesn’t understand - he just doesn’t get why I need to get that validation on the internet.” He laughs bitterly. “I don’t know how to tell him it’s because I’ve never received any from him. I don’t even think I can tell him.”
Peter stays quiet. Flash risks a quick glance in his direction before staring resolutely at his hands in his lap.
“May didn’t get why I needed to be Spider-Man,” Peter speaks. His voice is quiet. It sounds like he’s admitting something, some sort of secret. Flash listens intently. “She told me there was a hundred other ways I could help people, and she didn’t understand why I needed to get beat-up in order to do it. And I didn’t know how to explain it to her for the longest time, but then I finally figured it out after arguing with her for over a week.”
“What’d you say?” Flash asks. He speaks just as lowly as Peter.
Peter chuckles. “I told her that maybe she didn’t need to understand it. As long as I get it, then that’s what matters, right? I dunno if that’ll work with your dad, but,” he looks at Flash, “maybe your dad doesn’t need to understand it, is all.” He shrugs. “But maybe you should also see a therapist.”
Flash laughs surprisedly. “Yeah, probably,” he agrees brightly.
He sits with Peter in comfortable silence and stares out the window, watching the sun dip below the line of the buildings outside. The sky is a brilliant shade of red, the same colour as Peter’s Spider-Man suit.
“Y’know, Brad asked about you,” he says.
If Peter’s confused by the abrupt change in subject, he doesn’t show it. “What?” he asks. “When? Recently, or -”
“No,” Flash shakes his head, “back in Prague. In that fucking elevator, of all places. Asked why you were being so shifty.”
“Yeah? What’d you say?”
“Told him I didn’t know - ‘cause I didn’t - but I wasn’t sure why he cared.”
“Wow, thanks,” Peter says sarcastically.
“Not like that!” Flash exclaims. “No, I just didn’t understand why he needed to know, you know? What I’m saying is that I get it, I - thank you.”
Peter looks at him, a confused look on his face. “For what?”
“For coming out here, I dunno. You didn’t have to.”
“I know,” Peter shrugs. Smiles. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to, though.”
Flash smiles back at him. Outside, the sun finally sinks below the horizon, but it doesn’t take any of Flash’s happiness with it. Instead, it burns inside of his chest, warm and bright and real.