Chapter Text
Ned remembers.
In the space of time between one movement of the handshake to the next, it all just comes flooding back: the memories, the years, the near-death experiences and the inside jokes. Sleepovers, debates in the school cafeteria about whether Han shot first, AcaDec practices, guy in the chair.
His eyes widen. So does Peter’s smile.
They go to Peter’s quote-unquote apartment. Ned’s brain is running on overdrive trying to put together all of the pieces. His cerebellum is probably glowing inside of his skull or something. More and more keeps coming back, like that time he saved Peter from one of Toomes’ men in the school parking lot (which was so cool) and that time they stayed up until four A.M. building an AT-AT Lego kit even though they had a Spanish quiz the next morning, and the day they met—the first day of freshman year, second period History class, when they’d happened to sit next to each other and notice that they both had the same Lembas bread leaf-style pencil pouch. Peter had made a joke about how he always chewed on his erasers; one small bite is enough to fill the stomach of a grown man! he’d said, and Ned had laughed, and that had been that.
Now, Peter props open the door for him and then, once they’re both inside, he starts anxiously tidying up empty cups and pizza boxes and dirty clothes. “Sorry, it’s been a long week,” he says, kicking something under his bed so it’s out of sight. “I’m normally much better at, uh, adulting, I promise.”
“I really don’t have much room to judge, man. My dorm looked way worse than this during finals. Besides, the cobwebs totally compliment your whole aesthetic.”
Peter flashes a grin over his shoulder. He genuinely looks so happy right now, as opposed to the other night when they’d met—or re-met, Ned supposes. There’s a light in his eyes that wasn’t there before, a weight lifted off his shoulders.
It’s so trippy how, twenty minutes ago, he was Maynerd to Ned. The friendly neighbor who brought flowers as a housewarming gift to a kegger. Then the magical dam in Ned’s brain was blown apart and he’s Peter Parker again, he’s Ned’s—he was Ned’s…
“Are we still best friends?”
Peter freezes in the middle of junking his trash. “What?”
“Well, that’s what we were before, right? Like, my brain isn’t malfunctioning or something? Because it’d be so embarrassing if it was, if I was, like, inventing shit based on all of my super lame high school fantasies—”
Peter steps forward. “What do you remember, exactly?”
“Um,” Ned wrings his hands, “a lot. It’s coming in bits and pieces now, and it’s definitely not sequential, but, uh. I remember how we used to get sandwiches after decathlon, and that time we had a horror movie marathon at your place and you screamed so loud that May thought a cat was giving birth in the alley down below, and—” his voice dies as his throat closes up. May. Everything, all of this, it started the day after she died. Meaning that Peter’s been alone—like, completely and utterly alone—for the past four years, all while Ned was off having the time of his life at MIT, totally oblivious. He shakes his head. “God, Peter… this is…”
“It’s a lot, I know,” Peter says. He rounds the kitchen counter and sits on a stool, facing Ned directly, “and I’m—I’m so sorry. I know apologizing is basically useless, but I need you to know that I—I know I made a mistake, now. It took me a long time to realize it ’cuz I thought that I—I really, really thought that I was doing the right thing, Ned. I thought I was protecting you and MJ by staying away—”
Ned claps a hand over his mouth. “Oh my God, MJ. We have to tell her, Peter, she’s gonna kill you—”
Peter winces. “She actually already knows.”
Ned’s stomach drops. “She… what? How?”
“It was, um. This past week, with everything going on—the DoDC stuff, Jean Grey; she was targeting MJ because of us being, y’know—”
“Soulmates.”
Peter blushes. “I don’t think she’d put it that way, but uh. Anyway. She knew she could get me to stop pursuing her by threatening MJ, so I hid her with Frank—”
“Frank as in Frank Castle,” Ned gushes, “as in the Punisher. You’re friends with the Punisher.”
“Technically, but don’t bring it up in front of Frank or he’ll get all douche-y about it,” he deepens his voice in a rough impersonation of Castle, “‘geez, what’s next, huh? We gonna braid each other’s hair, make charm bracelets?’” he rolls his eyes. “Point is, she—I had this letter that I wrote her, back when I was still gonna tell you guys about me, about us, and she found it and it—it didn’t go well. But yeah, she—she doesn’t remember like you do, but she knows.”
“Oh. So… she found out before I did,” Ned says. He likes to think that he’s matured a lot since high school, but this… it stings. Maybe it’s because his psyche is currently being flooded with years-old data, causing a (hopefully temporary) regression, but it feels like that hotel room in Prague all over again; the spark of insecurity he’d experienced upon realizing that he wasn’t the only one special enough to Peter to be in on the secret.
But Peter shakes his head. “That’s not—it’s not like that, okay? I didn’t choose to tell her. A week ago, if I’d had it my way, neither of you ever would have found out—”
Ned’s eyes start to sting. “Which is so awesome of you, by the way, to make that decision for us—”
“I know,” Peter cuts in, firm at first, then softer, “I know. Believe me. I’ve seen firsthand how what I’ve been doing is—it’s killing me, Ned. Not just, like, the part of me that’s Peter Parker, but physically, it’s been… I’ve been working myself to the bone, man. All I do is patrol, you know that. You’ve got the tracker, which—by the way—is literally the coolest thing I’ve ever seen—”
Ned sniffles. “Don’t try to butter me up.”
“I’m not, Ned,” Peter says, his tone a mix between aggravated and pleading. “I really mean it. It feels like—it’s just more proof that I made the wrong choice, you know? Because all this time you’ve been looking for me, and I-I’d convinced myself that you guys were better off, that you’d forget about me and that would be it, you’d be safe and you’d go to college and you’d have each other, but I was—I was an idiot, Ned. I didn’t think about the hole I was leaving behind and I’m so, so sorry.”
He really means it, Ned can tell, because his eyes are all red and teary and his voice is shaking. It’s classic Peter Parker earnestness and time has done nothing to make Ned immune to its effects. He purses his lips and has to look away, because it’s literally like trying to stare down a kicked puppy. “You always did that.”
“Did what?”
“Underestimated your importance to people,” Ned says, coming over. “It was like you didn’t understand that we all loved you as much as you loved us. Like—like it didn’t even occur to you that was even possible. It used to piss me off a little, with the whole superhero thing. May, too. MJ, all of us. ’Cuz we knew, if it came down to it, you’d sacrifice yourself without even thinking about—about what it would mean. We had a text thread where we’d vent about it, actually.”
Peter laughs wetly. “Bet it never went dead.”
“Well, you were always doing stupid shit,” Ned says. He sighs and leans against the counter. “Wait, backup: you said MJ still doesn’t remember you?”
Peter’s shoulders drop. “Yeah, she… I don’t know. I don’t even know how you remembered. I didn’t think it’d actually work, I just figured I had to try it at least, see if maybe—”
“It was muscle memory,” Ned says, sure of it. “Kind of like a passkey, y’know? Our Elvish word for friend.”
“Mellon,” Peter says, grinning.
Ned giggles. “Exactly. Triggering that must’ve had a ripple effect on everything else in my brain and it, y’know, unlocked what the spell suppressed—”
Peter squints. “Which implies that it’s all still in there, it’s just being kept behind some kind of magical barrier. That’s…” he shakes his head, standing up to pace. “Jean said—when she got inside of MJ’s head, she said that there was nothing about me in there at all, man. That means that the spell is so strong that not even she could see through it—then again, she wasn’t as powerful then as she is now. I wonder if…”
“If she could try again?” Ned finishes, perking up at the thought. All of them together again, the original FOS. He could literally cry.
Peter drags a hand down his face. “Maybe,” he says, going over to the fridge and pulling out a couple of sodas, one of which he passes to Ned. “She’s hiding upstate now though. There’s some sanctuary for mutants up there, or a school or something, I can’t remember.”
“Well…” Ned chews his lip. “I mean, there are always other avenues we could try.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“Like… it’s a magic spell, dude. Who has two thumbs and knows magic?” he points at himself. “This guy.”
Peter’s eyebrows climb. “You’ve been practicing?”
“Two months in Kamer-Taj every summer,” Ned confirms. He pulls his sling-ring out of his pocket to show it off. “I’m pretty well-versed up to the intermediate stuff according to Wong. I’m working on mastering the Bolts of Bedevilment right now, but they’re only as powerful as the wizard who’s casting them, and you know me. I’ve always had, um. Confidence issues.”
Peter’s face falls. “You shouldn’t. You’re literally the coolest person I know.”
“Yeah, well,” Ned blushes, “judging by your whole gender-bent Jessica Jones vibe, it doesn’t seem like you know many people anymore. And Frank Castle so doesn’t count, by the way.”
Peter nods, resting against the counter adjacent to Ned, his arms folded over his chest. “You’re right, I don’t. Not like you. I mean, you’ve got all kinds of friends now—like that guy you swam in the River Charles with, and your study buddies, and—”
“Wait, wait,” Ned holds up a hand, “how do you know about… Peter, were you watching my stories this whole time?”
Peter’s face reddens. “I’m sorry. I know it’s creepy, I just—I missed you, and it was nice to be able to kind of, y’know, live vicariously through you every once in a while, and—”
He stops talking.
He stops talking because Ned is hugging him.
He can’t help it. It’s just—this is his best friend. Yeah, he might have other friends now, but none of them are Peter. None of them stood up to bullies like Flash for him and trusted him with a dangerous, life-altering secret, and believed in him, and built Death Stars with him, and gushed about his hacking skills to Tony Stark. This is Peter, his Peter, and he’s been—he’s been all alone for so long, and he didn’t get to go to MIT, and he lost his whole family, and now he’s an anti-social workaholic who willingly puts himself in danger on a daily basis and Ned is scared. This is—with the creepy attic and the lack of food in the fridge and the bags under Peter’s eyes—it’s terrifying. He feels like he’s changed so much over the past four years, and Peter definitely has too, but mostly he’s just become a sadder, lonelier version of the boy he was in high school.
Ned’s missed him so much. He always did, even before he knew what it was that his heart was aching for. He chokes back a sob and squeezes Peter tighter around the ribs and Peter hisses. “Ah, Ned, I’m still healing from getting shot, man—”
“Yeah, I have a lot of friends,” Ned says, not listening, “I have tons. You know why?”
“Um. Because you’re a really awesome person and a lot of people are finally realizing that?”
“No. Well, maybe, but mostly it’s because I kept making them, because I was—I was looking for you,” he says, pulling back so they’re eye-to-eye. “I was looking for you in all of them and I didn’t even know it. Someone who I could quote Star Wars with and swap lunches with and—and be myself with, without worrying if I was too much or too nerdy or too weird, because you’re the only person who I ever really let in like that besides MJ, and I—”
He stops talking because Peter is hugging him, now. Tight and secure, a little desperate. Ned’s heart breaks. He wonders who the last person to hug Peter was before today, and when. How long has he been starved of this kind of affection? God.
“You’re still my best friend. Maybe I’m not yours, ’cuz you’re all tight with the Punisher and stuff now and that’s fine, I get it, but you were my first real friend and the best one I’ve ever had, even if you did a really shitty thing that I’m still pissed at you for—”
Peter laughs wetly. “You’re definitely still my best friend, Ned. You’ll always be my best friend.”
Ned grins. They pull apart and just kind of smile all dopey at each other and wipe their tears, and neither of them do that lame corny bro shit where they get all awkward and try to man up afterwards, because they’ve never been like that. They just feel what they feel, they are who they are with each other.
“So… do you wanna come over?” Ned ventures. “I mean, my place isn’t near as inviting as all of this,” he gestures to the misery-infested studio around them, “but I think it’s safe to say we have a ton of sleepovers to catch up on considering we were supposed to be dormmates—oh, and I totally need to show you the demo for the Spidey game I’m working on! It’s so cool, man, it’s literally my pride and joy. You get to craft your own secret identity and the levels are based on your actual real-life fights with villains around New York—like, I had to change names and stuff so I don’t get sued, but real fans’ll know.”
“Bro, enough,” Peter interrupts, grinning. “You had me at sleepover, no need to keep selling me. I just, uh… you think MJ’ll be cool with it?”
“Oh,” Ned clears his throat, “she’s actually, uh. Staying over at her boyfriend’s place tonight. So.”
Peter pales. “Right, yeah. Duh.”
“He’s a nice guy, for the record. Just, like, if you were worried about that—”
“No, yeah, I’m sure—she’s—she’s got good taste—”
“—he’s also, like, way too boring and needy for her. Like, I give them another month, max, but I could be biased since I’m team Spideychelle for life.”
Peter flushes. “That’s—you don’t have to—”
“Look,” Ned puts his hands on Peter’s shoulders and gives him a little shake, “we’re gonna figure this out, okay? We’ll find a way to reverse the effects of the spell on her without ripping the universe apart. You did it with me, so now we know it’s possible and we just have to figure out how to recreate the results. We’ll workshop it tonight, yeah? Over popcorn and Star Trek reruns.”
“Well yeah, sure, but what if… what if we figure it out but she doesn’t want to remember? Or what if she wants to stay with the guy?”
“Peter,” Ned rolls his eyes, “his name is literally Paul. She’s not gonna debase herself by dating some dude named Paul for longer than a couple of months. They just carried over from college because they were hooking up to destress during finals and she probably hasn’t figured out how to—”
Peter plugs his ears with his fingers. “Okay, lalalalala, I don’t wanna hear about that, thanks!”
Ned laughs. “It’s gonna be fine. I’ll play Cupid if I have to, don’t worry.”
“You’re being way too self-assured about this, man. I still suffer from Parker luck, remember?”
“Do you? Because the entire universe forgot you, so I find it kind of hard to believe that you’re still stuck under some generational Yelnats-y Madame Zeroni curse. Besides, I’m leading this operation and I’m the king of manifestation now. Everything always works out for me.”
He puts his sling ring on and easily makes a portal from Peter’s apartment to his and MJ’s. “After you.”
Peter takes a deep breath. Then he ducks through to the other side.