Chapter Text
Another battle won.
Thank goodness.
That was the fourth one this month and it had been a doozy.
When Flash signed on to become a SHIELD agent, and by extension a 'superhero,' he already figured there'd be a lot of fighting involved - it came with the costume, so to speak. But he wildly underestimated just how often that would be. It was hard enough being an instructor at SHIELD Academy now - thus his every waking hour was filled with training bots, costume emergencies, and villains getting a little too cocky - but being an instructor and a field operative at the same time was nigh impossible. On good days, he went straight from teaching classes to bed, too tired to go out patrolling. On bad days, he fell asleep right there on his desk.
Which was a shame because there's a certain someone he's been trying to get some alone time with, and he couldn't do that when he was dozing off every time his body stepped outside the Triskelion.
On the bright side, when there were big battles like the one they just had, it attracted the Avenger's attention, so not only did it take a load off Flash's plate but he also got to use it as a learningexperience for his students - which was still such a weird concept to think about. Him? Have students? The most he's ever done was lead a high school football team to the championships.
To think, he thought the craziest his life was going to get was bonding to a symbiote created from the blood of one of his closest friends. Life has a way of breaking your expectations.
Anyway, with the Avengers taking the brunt of the attack, Flash got to use it as a lesson and exercise for his class, which was great because now he didn't have to plan a discussion for next week. Hell, he'd even been able to step back from the battle to survey his students and point out and address errors that they could meet up later at the Triskelion to address.
He liked to imagine himself as a coach watching his team during a game and picking out ways to improve their performance for next time - at least with this mindset, he wasn't focusing too much on how overwhelming his job was. Ben liked to joke that he couldn't handle the responsibility of being an instructor, but Flash didn't think he was doing so bad.
In fact, not to toot his own horn, but he thought he was doing rather well.
The battle was over now. It had been a semi-large invasion of strange, blob-like creatures from outer space that wanted to use Earth as their mating ground, or so Flash heard. The blob-creatures weren't necessarily hard to fight, but what they lacked in battle prowess they made up for in numbers. There were thousands of them - so much so that they had to evacuate half of the city to get civilians out of the way.
It had taken most of the day to fight them off, and several hours into the night to finish scouring the streets for stragglers before the battle was officially called off and the heroes dispersed. Instead of going to their homes or bases though, they congregated at Avengers Tower for a little celebratory party, as "the night is still young and we have booze!" - it was Tony Stark's idea, if that wasn't obvious.
Which is where Flash found himself now (Hey, when Tony Stark invited you to Avengers Tower, you didn't turn it down). He was given a glass of whatever expensive alcohol Stark was serving and quietly found himself a nice little corner to sit and watch the proceedings in.
He wasn't used to spending parties like this. Back in high school he was always in the middle of it, laughing and being rowdy with his football pals, feeling like the King of the world - at least until he got home.
But here? He felt like the new kid. The odd one out. He didn't know anybody in the superhero community very well, outside of the graduated Academy students, and while he was known for being rather extroverted in personality, these were heroes he was bumping elbows with. Captain America, Iron Man, Black Widow, Thor, Captain Marvel - legends that didn't know Flash, the guy in the corner who was bonded to a clingy slimeball, even existed.
He was intimidated, alright. It was hard attempting a normal conversation with the likes of She-Hulk and Ghost Rider without his inner-fanboy leaking all over the place. He would rather throw himself into a pile of horny blob-creatures than embarrass himself in front of them. Which is why he was perfectly fine nesting in his corner and pretending to sip at a drink that he didn't even want.
It worked out. It gave him a nice vantage point to watch the person his eyes kept drawing to.
The flash of red and blue that bobbed through the crowd had his head turning to seek it out through sheer muscle memory. After years of searching for that costume among buildings and in shaky video footage, it was second nature to turn to its owner whenever he was in proximity to him.
It was funny, where Flash was awkward and unsure in the presence of other heroes, Peter Parker was confident and chatty. He hopped from legend to legend with a quip to exchange and a laugh to follow, mask pulled up to his nose to sip at whatever he'd been given. He seemed to know everyone which was astounding because Flash didn't know Spider-Man met more than half of the people in this room. Then again, Peter had yet to divulge all his Spider-Man stories to him, and despite the Bugle's best effort, they couldn't always catch what the wall-crawler was up to - especially if he didn't want to be seen.
It was amazing to think that Peter Parker was under that mask. Small, mousey, geeky Peter Parker, who always stuck to the background at Midtown and kept his nose buried in whatever book he had in hand - most of them science based. Flash would know, he's snatched quite a few of them back in the day.
He was equal-parts amused and bewildered to realize that their positions had become reversed. Whenever Flash happened to see Peter at a party, in the rare occasion that he showed up with Harry and MJ, he was always stuck in a corner, sipping on some water and either people-watching or playing on his phone. Now it was Flash watching from the outside while Peter gallivanted among their peers, laughing and chatting as if they were all friends. Maybe they were.
He'd admit it, he was a little jealous. He wished he could go up to Captain America, make a joke, and have the legendary hero laugh and clap him on the shoulder. He wished he could be buddy-buddy with the Hulk and tease Hawkeye without feeling this close to peeing his pants through nerves.
Jeez, not even the National Basketball Tournament was this nerve-wracking.
Flash felt the symbiote grow from the black padding of his shoulder, like a weird inky worm, and butt itself against his face gently. It's own way of showing comfort. Flash smiled and rubbed the top of its head.
"I'm alright," he said, eyes still lingering on Spider-Man. "Just thinking."
The symbiote hummed in his head and Flash knew it was watching Peter now too.
Ever since it's first escape from Doctor Octopus all those years ago, the symbiote had become more silent in its verbal conversations other than hisses or growls. Flash remembered the first time he'd seen Venom, during that party Harry Osborn threw. It talked then. Mimicked him when he called Peter a "nerd." But Flash couldn't recall it ever speaking like that again, not without a host - granted he wasn't exactly present throughout all of its history, but even when it bonded with him and they joined the Academy, the symbiote didn't like to verbally talk.
It talked to Flash, of course, but that was through shared thoughts and emotions. When Flash asked it about that, the symbiote was hesitant to share that ever since first interaction with Peter and his team, it didn't feel comfortable talking. It remained silent, trying not to draw attention to itself.
Then it bonded with Harry and through their combined grief and emotions, the "villain" Venom was formed and the symbiote was rejected once again. Then it was manipulated and abused by Goblin for his own bidding, and then again by Loki to take over the world, and then pieces of it were taken and turned into a different symbiote, so it wasn't exactly fond of trying to get to know people.
The symbiote admitted that it had been angry and vengeful in its neglect, and not all of its actions had been entirely the fault of its host, but by the time Loki had used it, the symbiote was just tired of all the hate and abuse and wanted to be left alone.
It was a relief to the both of them when they found each other.
Flash couldn't fault Peter, nor Spider-Man, for his actions against the symbiote. He hadn't understood it the way Flash does. Hell, after it had taken Flash over the first time, he had nightmares for weeks afterwards because it was terrifying. Spider-Man had spent years fighting off the symbiote, having it used against him and his family and constantly feeling threatened by its presence.
They used to have a hard time getting along. During early training exercises, Flash knew Spider-Man didn't like working with him because of the symbiote, and vice versa the symbiote got a lot more aggressive and violent during their one-on-one sparring sessions. Flash couldn't bring himself to fault either of them and played mediator.
But he and the symbiote were bonded now. They were one, in mind and body, and no one shared such an intimate link as they did. He'd fight for the symbiote if it came down to that. But Flash couldn't deny the way his heart danced in his chest whenever Spider-Man entered the room, or the way he started seeking Peter out in a crowd.
It was...confusing.
What is so confusing about it, the symbiote asked and Flash distracted himself from the question by taking an actual sip of his drink. His nose wrinkled at the taste of alcohol. We have had many hosts. We have tasted this feeling before.
"You can't taste feelings," Flash said over the rim of glass, staring sourly down at the amber liquid. Was this scotch? "Not like it matters, anyway" he grumbled, "Even if I did...look, he's not going to feel the same way about me."
How do we know?
"Uh, because I bullied him," Flash stressed, "For years. Constantly picking on him and pushing him around. Even if I told him, it's not like he's just going to forget everything I ever did to him. It doesn't work that way, V."
We won't know unless we ask, Venom pointed out, and Flash glowered.
"I'm not gonna ask."
Why not?
"Because it'll just be weird. He's not going to feel the same way about me. There's no point in ruining the relationship we have and making things awkward between us again."
We don't know unless we try, Venom repeated.
Flash frowned, pushing Venom away with his finger, "Since when did you start giving out life advice?"
We are just trying to help host.
"I appreciate the thought, buddy," Flash said, tipping his head back and throwing the remainder of the drink down his throat. He slammed the cup down with a loud hiss, face pinching from the burn. He's never really liked alcohol. "But believe me, nothing is going to happen between me and Peter. The sooner I accept that and get over these feelings, the better."
Venom didn't say anything, merely hummed as Flash's eyes sought out Peter in the crowd once more.
The party was going well into the night and Flash was getting tired.
He thought about trying to get drunk, but despite what his peers thought, he wasn't much of a drinker. He had a lot of bad memories associated with alcohol and he wasn't quite friendly with the idea of getting wasted.
He hung around the party to associate with friends and have an excuse not to go back to his lonely apartment. He could always sleep at the Academy, as all teachers and staff had room and board there, but he talked it over with Fury and got himself an apartment so he still had some semblance of being a normal person. He never thought that would be a problem when he started training with SHIELD, but years into it, and he liked being able to walk down the street and pretend he was another citizen going about their day. Having his own place was nice and it was somewhere he could go where it was just him.
Sometimes it was just him a little TOO often.
He was out on the balcony now, nursing a cup of water so people didn't keep asking if he needed a drink, and sipping it lightly as he debated whether or not he should call it a night or stick it out a few more hours, when a body slumped next to him.
Spider-Man was half-way leaning against the railing and half drooping off of it. Flash went out here because he wanted some fresh air and he hadn't been expecting guests, but his heart beat a little faster as he recognized him. He did his damn hardest to ignore it though as he helped Spider-Man back to his feet.
"Whoa, hey, you good Spidey?"
Spider-Man hummed, swaying on his feet. He looked one gust away from falling over, and Flash looked him over carefully, "Are you...are you drunk?"
"Mmmaybe," Spider-Man slurred, pressing a finger to Flash's lips, "Shhh, don't tell anyone, alright."
Flash gently removed the finger and ignored the way his skin tingled with the warmth it left behind. "I thought you couldn't get drunk."
Spider-Man leaned forward as if to tell a secret, but he only ended up slumping against Flash's body, and after a surprised 'oomph," and a questioning "hmm?" he melted into it like a cat.
"Thor brought some Asgard liquor," he mumbled into Flash's shoulder, and made a lazy 'perfection' sign, "That shit is the SHIT."
"Sounds like it."
Spider-Man lifted his head, resting his chin on the top of Flash's chest as he peered up at him, "Do you want to try it?"
"Uh..." Flash grimaced, "No. No, thank you, I'm good."
"Hmmm...," Spider-Man dropped his head again, "Okay. Your loss."
He didn't seem inclined to remove himself from Flash's body, so Flash gingerly grabbed him by the shoulders and lifted him back up. Spider-Man made a noise and leaned in as if to sink back into his spot as he groaned, "Waaaarm," but Flash didn't think he'd be so forward if he weren't orbiting Jupiter at the moment.
Besides, his heart was beating so quickly, it wouldn't be a surprise if Peter could feel it through their clothes.
"Easy," Flash laughed, propping him against the balcony where he slumped once more, hand dangling over the railing as his head lolled from side to side when he tried balancing it on the ledge. "I think you had a little too much to drink."
"What?" Spider-Man turned his head sharply and jerked back up, so quickly it made him stumble and he would have fell backwards if not for grabbing Flash by the arm last minute. "No, I'm fine. I'm fiiiine. M'not even drunk, who told you that."
Flash fought to keep his smile down as he steadied the other man, "You did."
The lenses of Spider-Man's mask expanded and retracted in a skeptical way that looked downright comical and Flash suppressed his laugh through a cough.
"M'not drunk, just a little...just a little..." Spider-Man's sentence tapered off and his lenses widened as he stared at Flash's arm. "Man, did you put yourself through a shredder? Because you are ripped." He leaned closer, hands curling around Flash's upper arm, "Can I feel your biceps?"
"What?"
"Oh, sorry, can I pleeeeease feel your biceps?"
Flash flushed and Venom laughed in his head. "I'm not sure if you-" he started, but Venom was quicker and uncurled itself around his arm, revealing his bare skin to the cool night air. Spider-Man made a tiny gasp, and then an excited squee as he wrapped both hands around it with wide-eyed wonder.
"Wow," he whispered in awe.
The hell? Flash whisper-shrieked in his head, and he could feel Venom's shrug.
Host needs a little help.
Not like THIS.
Why not? He is enjoying it.
Flash looked back to Spider-Man, who did in fact look like he was having the time of his life running his hands up and down the dips and swells of Flash's biceps.
"How do you get them this big?" he wondered out loud, and then his voice turned into a pout, "I can never get my arms this big."
"Your arms are great," Flash said before he could stop himself, and if blood kept rushing to his face like this he was going to have to go to the medbay to get checked out because it couldn't be healthy.
Spider-Man didn't notice. He lifted his arms and flexed them, looking between Flash's and his own. Flash couldn't help but follow the hard outlines of the man's muscles, even in spandex they were clearly visible. It's true that they weren't as big as Flash's, but they were still impressive, and Flash's mouth went very dry as Spider-Man flexed and unflexed them. He took a long drink from his glass.
"They're not as cool," Spider-Man decided, dropping his arms and slouching his shoulders. His grumpiness lasted a whopping 5 seconds before he was surging forward, wrapping his arms around Flash's neck, and pushing their faces so close together they were mere inches apart. Flash made an embarrassing noise in the back of his throat and had to grab Spider-Man by the waist to balance them out as he was pushed against the balcony guardrail.
"Teach me how to get a rockin bod like yours?" Spider-Man asked and Flash's heart was beating so fast there's no way it couldn't be heard. The press of Peter's body against his own was intoxicating and Flash wonders if it's possible to get drunk on another person's body heat.
He couldn't speak words and nothing but untethered letters flew from his mouth before he managed to sputter out, "Wha - why are - I- I mean, you...your body is rocking too."
Venom was laughing harder now.
Flash told it to shut up.
Spider-Man chuckled, his lenses retracting into a happy squint. "Why'r so sweet to me?" he slurred, "Like…the sweetest, always saying nice things about me and calling me cool. I'm not cool. Do you know who I am?" if he weren't so close, he would've leaned in further as he whispered, "I'm Peter Parker. I'm a fucking dweeb. But don't tell anyone okay. No one can know."
The laugh that burst from Flash's chest was amused and breathy and he was feeling oddly light-headed, "I won't, I promise. Your secret is safe with me. But just between you and me," he leaned in to whisper, "Peter Parker is pretty cool in my book."
Spider-Man gasped, soft and small. "Really?"
"Really."
"For really really?"
"For really, really, really."
He tilted his head as he regarded Flash, moving it up and down as he looked the bigger man over carefully, as if judging his words through body language. The longer the silence stretched, the more the butterflies in his belly started to swarm, and Flash was about to ask him what he was doing when Spider-Man blurted out, "Can I kiss you?"
It was in that moment that Flash's brain committed suicide. It jumped over the ledge, and if he still didn't have his hands full of one Spider-Man, he might've followed. Venom was chanting, Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, in his head, but words had been cut off from Flash's brain and all he could do was stare as Spider-Man tilted his head, waiting for an answer.
When it became obvious that the silence was going on far too long, Flash shook his head and opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to shake the gears back into place similar to someone smacking a staticing TV until it started playing again. "I'm – I - you – what? Kiss…me?"
Spider-Man nodded, leaning directly onto Flash's body now. Intently. His body was warm. Venom usually acted as a barrier between Flash and outside temperatures, even against other people and their body heat, to keep him at a suitable temperature. He wondered if it was allowing Peter's body heat to seep through just to screw with him.
"Can I kiss you, pretty please? With a cherry on top?" Spider-Man asked again, and Flash's brain was on a spiraling descent that matched an ERROR ERROR code on a computer.
"Wha – why do you want to?"
Spider-Man laughed as if he were being silly, "Because," he said, bopping Flash's nose, "You're hot as hell. And you're, like, the coolest person I've known ever. And you're always so nice to me – well when you stopped being a bully. You were pretty mean then. But you're so nice now and I like you sooooooo much, and MJ has been telling me to just ask you out already, but that's scary. But you were out here being so nice again, and you've been by yourself at the party alllll night, and you looked so lonely, and I wanted to come talk to you, and then you were being nice and sweet to me again, and can I pleaase kiss you? I'll let you kiss me back if you want."
There were so many words overloading Flash's brain he couldn't sort through them all at once. He grabbed Spider-Man's wrists and unwound them from around his neck and eased Spider-Man's body away, putting a good, solid distance between them. If not for Spider-Man's sake, then for his own.
Spider-Man held out his hands, as if to return, but Flash pushed them back to his own chest. "No, no, stop that. You...stay over there. Come on, Spidey. You – that's just – that doesn't make any sense. You just-"
Spider-Man went very still, mask lenses wide and confused. Then his shoulders slumped, "You…don't like me back, do you?" he mumbled, and turned away, suddenly upset, "I knew it. I knew it. Stupid MJ and her stupid advice, this was stupid, stupid, stupid."
"What? No, no-" Flash stepped forward, hands out to grab him, but inches from making contact he hesitated and retracted them again, "No, Spidey, I like you. I do, I promise. But –" he rubbed a hard hand over his face, "Oh this is…okay, um," he grabbed Spider-Man's shoulders, very softly, and turned the man around so they were face-to-face, but kept that distance between them, even though he already missed the press of the other man's body. "I do like you. I do."
"Only as a friend," Spider-Man said, looking down.
"No, I –" why were words so hard to articulate? "I – I do like you. Like like you. For a while now, but – um, we haven't – I used to be – I just…don't think you actually….look, Webs, your drunk right now and probably just looking for someone to spend the night with. I know you don't mean any harm by it, and, fuck, I wish you weren't drunk when you're asking me, because I'd love to –" he paused, and cleared this throat, "I just…don't think this is a good time, alright?"
"But…" Spider-Man tilted his head again, as if trying to sort through Flash's word-vomit, "But…you do like me?"
"Yes," Flash confirmed with a solid nod.
"Then what's wrong?" Spider-Man asked, stepping forward again, hand out as if to grab Flash. Flash snatched it before it could make contact and used it to keep Spider-Man from leaning into him again.
"What's wrong is that you're not thinking straight," Flash sighed, "You're drunk, so you probably don't even-" he sighed again, looking at him sadly, "Come on, let's get you home, Webs."
Spider-Man seemed confused, but allowed Flash to grab him by the hand and guide him away from the balcony. "But..." he said, pausing to think and Flash could imagine his lips pursing in the way they did when he was thinking about something he didn't understand. "So why don't you want to kiss me."
"This isn't consensual, Spidey."
"But I want to."
"But you're also drunk."
"I'm not that drunk."
Flash eyed the way his legs wobbled and tripped over themselves. If not for the fact that he was holding him upright, Spider-Man probably would've hit the door leading into the building. "Well, you're definitely not clear-headed," he argued.
"But I'd want to kiss you even if I didn't try Asgard juice."
"Asgard juice," Flash mumbled, rolling his eyes, "This is exactly what I'm talking about."
He found MJ. She was still in her Spider-Woman outfit and was talking with Captain Marvel. When she saw Flash and Spider-Man heading toward her, she sat up straighter and Flash could tell she was zeroing in on the way Spider-Man was tottering behind him.
"Drunk?" She asked when they were in hearing distance.
"Very." Flash said.
"Asgardian liquor."
"Oh yeah."
She sighed, "Told him not to do it, but does he ever listen to me."
Spider-Man bumped into Flash's shoulder as they stopped and when he recognized the person they were standing in front of, his lenses narrowed and he pointed an accusing finger at her, "Your advice is shit."
MJ arched an eyebrow at him, "Excuse me?"
"You're advice. Tried it. Didn't work. He doesn't want to kiss me."
MJ looked confused for a solid 5 seconds, before the dots connected and she pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head in disappointment, "Oh, you dum-dum."
"Look, I'm just going to take him home," Flash said, not wanting to know what they were talking about. "Just wanted to let someone know so they didn't freak out when they can't find him."
"He almost fell out of the building, didn't he?"
"Off the balcony, and yes. Several times."
"I can help," she offered, standing up, but Flash held up a hand.
"No, it's okay. I don't want to interrupt," he glanced at Captain Marvel, who was watching them in amusement, Spider-Man especially when he started tapping the tip of his finger on the spikes of Flash's shoulder pads and muttering, "Amazing."
Venom softened the tops so he was less likely to actually prick himself and Flash sent an inward thanks. MJ looked at him more closely but smiled at whatever she saw and sat back down. "Alright, I'm guessing you know where his apartment is."
"Yeah."
"He keeps his key in his boot, but if it's not there, another should be on top of the doorway."
Flash gave her a look, "The doorway?"
"Yeah, I told him it was a stupid place to put it."
Flash rolled his eyes but adjusted his grip on Spider-Man, who was now drooping over his shoulders and back, contently nuzzling into his neck and Flash was grateful Venom had covered his face again because his blush was creeping up his face at alarming rates.
"Come on, Webs," he said, gently easing him onto his own two feet. When Spider-Man swayed like he was going to fall, Flash adjusted by pulling one of Spider-Man's arms over his shoulder and supporting most of his body weight.
"W're we goin?" Spider-Man slurred, "Goin on an adventure?"
"No, we're going home so you can go to bed."
Spider-Man scoffed, "That's not fun. You're no fun. Let's break into the Raft and make fun of the Frightful Four. I think Electro's in there too."
"We are not breaking into a villain prison, Webs."
"No one will know."
"Believe me, they'll know."
Getting him back to his apartment was more of a struggle than he anticipated.
Flash figured they could get a cab to take them halfway there, and then change into civvies and either walk or swing the rest of the way, but it was becoming increasingly obvious just how drunk Spider-Man was. He couldn't undress himself and get in his civvies without causing too much of a ruckus, and Flash was blushing all kinds of red at the mere thought of undressing the other man, so their costumes stayed.
The cabby who picked them up ended up being a hack and charged him more than he should've with the excuse that driving superheroes was extra dangerous and came with a putting-themselves-at-risk fee. Flash all but threw the money at the guy and slammed the door shut, muttering a few choice words under his breath. Spider-Man didn't seem fazed by the ride or that Flash had spent a decent chunk of his leisure money on their cab fare, and was trying to climb the street pole on the corner. He couldn't get his feet to stop falling over each other though and kept sliding down, drawing attention from curious bystanders, so Flash jogged up to him and eased him back on the sidewalk.
"M'trying to-" Spider-Man mumbled, voice narrowed in concentration, but Flash urged him into the closest deserted alleyway.
"Oh," he looked around the alley with wide, expectant eyes, "What are we doing in here."
"We are going to climb this building and get you home," Flash answered, pulling down the creaking ladder to the firescape. Spider-Man didn't look functional enough to climb a wall and Flash was prepared to help him up the fire escape, where at least both of his feet would still be upside right.
It wasn't as annoying as he thought it would be though. Spider-Man was very eccentric when he was drunk. Yes, he's always been an eccentric person, but any filter he might've had before was in tatters. He spun around the bars, moved his arms to animate his points, and lost all control of his tone and vocal range.
More than once Flash had to shush him through suppressed laughter, which only encouraged him in the long run. Eventually, he managed to get the other man to quiet down so they could webswing to his building. Spider-Man was in no condition to swing himself that wouldn't end in colliding with a billboard, so the only alternative they had was piggybacking.
Flash dutifully ignored the weight of Spider-Man tucked against his back, but it was a hard task to do. He wrapped his arms and legs around Flash's waist and torso, and nestled his head in the crook of Flashs shoulder and neck. The ride over was the quietest Spider-Man had been all night and by the time they were touching down on Peter's building, Flash was almost certain the other man had fallen asleep.
But when they landed, Spider-Man stubbornly burrowed into him before unwinding himself.
"Can't we go again?" He moped, "You're so warm."
"Maybe some other time," Flash said, if just to placate him and led him down the side of the building. Thankfully, Peter's window faced the brick-side of another building so there would be no peeping tom's watching him go to-and-fro from his apartment. Still, Flash kept an eye on all the shadows and streets just in case.
Spider-Man flopped through the window, caught his foot on the window-sill and plummeted to the ground with a loud OOMPH. His leg wacked the table-stand nearby and it fell over with a crash, and Flash winced giving the area outside a quick glance, but it didn't look like anyone noticed. He smoothly stepped inside and slid the window shut, latching it for good measure because you could never be too careful in New York.
Spider-Man was still lying on the floor. He was starting to come down from his high, maybe because he was home now, as he didn't look inclined to pick himself up. Flash grabbed him and eased him back to his feet.
"Come on, Pete, we're almost there."
Peter's head lulled to the side to look at him. His mask was skewamper on his face, and he swung an arm around him and pressed a finger to Flash's lips, "Shhhhhhhh, you'll wake me up."
Flash smiled against the finger, "Sorry, I'll be more quiet."
"Thank you."
He helped Spider-Man through his cluttered apartment and into his even more cluttered room. It was a mess of discarded clothes, walls taped with pictures of villains and local gangs he was looking into, and a desk shoved in the corner that was overflowing with gadgets, webshooter designs, and pieces of tech that he was working on.
"You seriously need to clean up in here," Flash muttered. Peter flopped on the bed and immediately bunched his arms into the blankets and pillows and burrowed into them with a content sigh. Flash was tempted to leave him like that, but it wasn't comfortable sleeping with a mask on. In fact, Peter was at risk of suffocating, so he curled his fingers under it and slipped it off.
It tugged and stretched as it was pulled off, but Peter took a deep inhale once freed and tucked his cheek farther into the pillow. Flash examined his face.
He'd gotten a cut on his forehead during the battle, that had been taped up, and there was a massive bruise on the underside of his jaw, but otherwise, he was unharmed. Gently, Flash swiped Peter's bangs out of his face and watched the steady rise and fall of his chest as he slept. His fingers glided down the expanse of his cheek and across his jawline which had sharpened so much from the baby-fat he'd had during high school. It was...a startling change. Flash wondered when it happened.
When had Peter gone from the oval-faced, goofy-looking kid he used to stuff in lockers, to this handsome, sharp-jawed, superhero who could out bench press Flash any day of the week.
Realizing what he was doing, Flash jerked his hand away as if he'd burned himself, and backed up. What was he doing here? What was he thinking? Just the reminder of what he'd used to do to Peter made guilt swallow him from head to toe.
He didn't deserve to touch him. He missed any sort of chance he had at running his fingers along Peter's skin, or through his messy mask hair, and it was his own fault. He knew that. He carried it with him everytime he was in the same room as Peter.
"I like you," Spider-Man had said. "LIKE you, like you."
Had he meant it?
Maybe he did,Venom murmured.
Flash shook his head. He wasn't going to allow himself the luxury of hope. Peter was drunk. He did not have any endurance for alcohol, as he normally couldn't get drunk, so anything that can affect him was going to affect him HARD. Flash has seen what alcohol can do to a person's head. What it does to their perceptions and moods, and while he doesn't understand how Peter came to the mindset he was in, he knew that he wasn't in his right mind.
Peter couldn't like him. Not like that. As teammates maybe, and as a friend at most. But something more? Something romantic? No, that was just setting him up for a broken heart. Peter had a lot more game than Flash would ever care to admit, and he could probably get any guy or girl he wanted if he applied himself. Why would he go for the person who'd given him wedgies in 5th grade and made it a personal goal to stuff him into as many lockers as possible?
Flash was kidding himself and Peter was drunk. Nothing he said held any real meaning.
His heart was spilling on the floor, aching with splinters and yearning, but he pulled the covers over Peter and tucked him in. He gave the man a final wistful look, before carefully closing the door behind him. He tidied up Peter's living room and kitchen and set out Tylenol and a glass of water for when he woke up, before leaving.
Venom turned into a pair of dark jeans and a black shirt, and Flash left through the building entrance, walking down the street with his head down and his hands stuffed in his pockets.