Archive of Our Own

Despite the sound of the latch clicking and his window sliding open, Naim refuses to look up from his sketchbook. A red presence fills his peripherals, chest huffing and strands of webbing plastered across fabric. Still, Naim doesn't move. He was frustrated with him and didn't want to give the satisfaction of even looking up. Naim continues to shade in the shape he was working on, his pencil strokes light and barely marking the page. He wasn't really drawing anyway. It's not like he could focus with the sudden silhouette in his eye line.

"Naim," His voice panted, sounded injured. It was only then that Naim looked up and saw him clutching his side with a red spot around his gloved hand.

God dammit.

He springs out of bed, jumping up to join the suited figure by his window. Naim lets his smaller hand roam over the injured area and replace the red hand with his own.

"What happened, Ryan?" He keeps his voice gentle when he asks. Yes, he's mad at him, but he knows it probably took a lot for him to come here. Especially when it's broad daylight outside where anyone could see him slipping through Naim's dorm. He swallows any festering anger he feels and applies light pressure to the wound. It doesn't feel very deep.

It's hard to see the expression Ryan is making under the mask, but Naim can tell by the way his eyes move that he has an amused face on. "Asshole nicked me while I was trying to stop a bus collision. Guess he thought I was coming for him."

Naim sighs and retreats from the heat of his body, going over to his dresser to retrieve the supplies he kept there for this very occasion. "One day someone is going to kill you while you're helping an old lady cross the street."

He doesn't even have to turn around to know Ryan's smiling with all his teeth, even though his face is covered. "Only if the lady is you."

The gauze he has stashed in his drawer is dwindling quickly. Usually, only a bit of the stuff is necessary. Naim doesn't exactly know how, but Ryan can heal himself. He explained it once while Naim was on his lap, which, obviously, he was not paying attention to. Lately though, he's been getting hurt more, and his body doesn't seem to be able to keep up with the healing.

"That doesn't even make sense, cunt."

Okay, Naim let some attitude slip through on that one. He averts his eyes once he sees Ryan flinch back. Despite this, he allows Naim to put his hands on him once more, cleaning the fabric as best as he can and giving Ryan a pointed look to peel off the top half of his suit.

"I'm sorry," He says, shaking fingers going to the bottom of the hem and slowly pulling upwards. Turns out, the wound is set pretty low, so he doesn't have to take off too much. Naim silently curses this. No abs for him today.

Gauze rolls haphazardly out of his fingers while he dresses the wound. He ends up using the rest of the spool and makes a mental note to buy more next time he goes to the drugstore. Ryan stays silent while he's patched up, the eye mask whirring softly as his eyes drift over Naim's movement. It's very hard for him not to meet his gaze, but he manages.

"It's okay," He relents once he's done with the dressing and Ryan's suit is pulled back down. The trash can clanks as he tosses the empty spool away. "I understand why you couldn't come."

"I wanted to be there. You know I did."

Naim snaps his head back and walks over to Ryan. He might've let him off easy if he hadn't said that. Ryan's head cocks back as he watches Naim approach, laying back against the corner of his bed with the neck of his mask pulled up to cool off. Naim can see the way his blonde hair curls up with sweat. He wants to lick him clean.

"No, Ryan, I don't know that you wanted to be there. You always say you're coming and then you just — don't."

It's useless. They've had this conversation a million times before. Naim doesn't know why he wastes his breath. Ryan's never going to be honest with him. He's never going to show up unmasked, no matter how many events Naim begs him to come to.

Ryan's shoulders shake from where they hold him up on the bed. He keeps his eyes on Naim, never pulling them away, even when Naim crowds closer to him and raises his voice in frustration.

"I can't. It's not safe."

"It's not safe?" Naim cries, throwing his hands up and sending one straight into Ryan's shoulder, knocking him off balance. "You're fucking Spider-man! How can something not be safe for you? You have fucking powers! You shoot webs! What are you afraid of?"

It's then that Ryan stands up, towering over Naim easily and not even seeming phased by the way he pushed him. He swallows thickly.

"It has nothing to do with me, Naim! It's you! I can't put you in danger. If anyone knows that you've seen me — I don't want to think about what they'll do to you."

Tears well up in Naim's eyes before he can stop himself. He thinks Ryan is the only person in his life who's ever seen him cry, and of course he hasn't even seen Ryan's eyes uncovered. It just upsets him more.

"But — But, you just have to come! You just have to come when I invite you. Nobody will know it's you. If you just show up —" The tears are fully flowing now. He's standing in front of Ryan in his stupid suit, sobbing his eyes out and sniffling like a child. His hands are still covered in drops of his blood.

It was Naim's third year in school. He had gotten selected to showcase his work at the school's welcome event, a piece of work he was extremely proud of. A piece of work that was inspired by Ryan and the first time they met. All he had asked Ryan to do was show up.

He couldn't even do that.

Ryan wraps his arms around him and pulls him in tightly, soothing the back of Naim's head and running his nails over his scalp. "You know I can't," He says simply, and Naim feels his heart breaking all over again.

"I just want to be with you." His voice is muffled against the suit. The stupid red suit he would do anything to tear off and be skin to skin with the boy in front of him. But he can't, so he just continues to brush his fingers over the scale-like texture of it. He wonders if it itches against Ryan's skin.

The voice above him is far when he whispers back, "I want to be with you too," and when Naim puts his head up, he sees one of Ryan's hands pulling at his mask. It makes his heart start beating faster. A stupid part of him thinks that Ryan's finally going to show him, but he stops right when his lips are the only thing visible. Perfect, pink plump lips that Naim has kissed so many times before. The only thing he's been able to see on Ryan's face.

Their kiss is solemn, just a soft slotting together of their mouths that stays tender and melancholy. He hears Ryan sniffle when he pulls away, and Naim's own eyes start to well up again.

"Just a bunch of fuckin' babies we are," Ryan quips, pulling his mask back down and giving Naim's hip one last squeeze. "I'll come back later. I have a few other calls I want to take care of before so we can have all night together."

Naim nods. "Don't be late?"

Ryan is already halfway out the window, using his webs to stick onto the edge and pull it down after him. Before he swings away, he turns back to press his face against the glass, winking through the eye mask and blowing Naim a kiss before he makes a dramatic show of falling off the edge like he jumped.

So stupid. He can't help but smile while he watches Ryan pop up a second later, attaching himself to the building next to Naim's dorm and flying out of sight.

He's left alone in his room with the tears and gut wrenching conversation they just had. The novelty of Ryan swinging away wears off after a moment, and Naim is the one that has to pick up the pieces of his heart. He knows what he was getting into by keeping this up. It is entirely his own fault, Ryan told him several times that he could never show him his face. No matter how many nights they spent together, early mornings smoking on his roof, squished together out of sight in the backseat of his car, it didn't change the truth.

The fact of the matter was he was in a relationship with New York's most prevalent hero, and there was no way in hell Naim could ever get around that. Their relationship could never be normal. Despite all of this, he would do anything to keep him. Even if it meant never seeing his face, never knowing his body or his full name. Naim jumps back into his bed and picks up his sketchbook, going back to what he was working on earlier.

It was just pages and pages of Ryan. What he could look like. The different shapes his nose could take, the color of his eyes, the way his eyebrows would look scrunched up when he did that stupid smug face Naim knew he always had on. Most of his inspiration in recent months had come from Ryan, which he just chalked up to a Spider-man obsession when anyone asked. Unsurprisingly, he was not the only boy in New York who liked him.

He was the only one who was in a romantic relationship with him, though. At least he hoped so.

Naim lets his mind wander to the first time they met as he sketches, reminiscing on the crisp night where he was pulled out of the alleyway by a strong pair of hands, the wind blowing through his hair as he was gently placed on a rooftop and met with the man who had been all over the news the last few days. The man was pulling webbing off himself, scoffing as a particularly sticky one clung to his waist.

Which, of course, Naim could not take his eyes off of.

"Sorry, mate, been having issues with my shooters lately. They come out so fucking sticky."

Naim was not unlike most people who lived the city. They all wanted to be saved by Spider-man, come face to face with him and feel his webbing on them, be on the receiving end of his quirky rhetoric. Honestly though, all Naim could look at right now was the web fluid dripping off his hip in white rivulets. His strong thighs in the suit, the way his muscles rippled every time he reached down to brush himself clean.

When Naim didn't respond, he spoke again.

"You okay? Those cunts didn't knock your head too hard, did they?"

Right. He was stuck in the alley with a bunch of guys from the bar who had followed him out when he had left for a smoke. He was with a few of his uni friends playing pool all night, crushing their opponents. The beer was flowing. He had managed to piss some people off.

Naim didn't know what it was about him that pissed people off so much.

Before any of them had even gotten a word out, he was swung away. His cigarette was left to die out ceremoniously on the ground.

With all the adrenaline coursing through his veins, Naim's mouth moved before his brain did. "Were you watching me or somethin'?"

He watched as the spider's eyes widened in surprise. Clearly, he was taken aback. But for some reason, he didn't deny it. His masked head dropped down to his feet and he rubbed his neck with a firm hand. The sound of the fabric swishing together was loud in the silent night.

"What happened to 'thank you'?'" He said finally, his deep voice wobbling a bit, almost as if it were being lowered purposely.

"Thank you. Were you watching me?"

Despite Naim's waiting friends — still at the bar, probably on their fifth drink — he let Spider-man swing him home. They were tangled up in one another, Naim's arms wrapped around his torso tightly, held by one strong hand while the other whipped them through the high-rise buildings of downtown New York. Naim was afraid of heights, but in that moment he wished for his feet to never touch the ground again.

"Ryan," He had said as Naim struggled to pull his window up after they had landed on the roof of his dorm building.

"What?"

"My name. It's Ryan, so you like — you know. Don't have to keep calling me Spider-man or anything." The words were rushed out. He was nervous.

The window finally unstuck and pushed up, a rush of cool air fanning over Naim's face as he smirked. "I didn't realize I was going to keep calling you anything."

That was the piece that Naim had turned in for the showcase. The image of them perched across the rooftop, Naim's body halfway in his dorm room, looking up at the suited figure as he hung over him. In many ways, Naim felt like that was the first night he was actually alive. He actually felt like he could feel his ribs opening up, making space in his heart for someone else to live there.

It was the piece he wanted Ryan to see. Maybe if he saw it, maybe if he understood that Naim wasn't afraid of being with him even if it made him unsafe, he would come around. But Ryan didn't show up. Naim had picked at the canvas all night while he waited, flecks of color blooming under his fingernails while he resisted the urge to tear it down in frustration.

Naim doodled until he fell asleep waiting for Ryan. His window open, his pencil still in hand.

1:07

It was the only thing Naim could see through bleary eyes. The harsh red of the analog alarm next to his bed. The numbers were fuzzy around the edges, and he had to blink several times so he could actually recognize what he was looking at. He didn't remember falling asleep. His cheek was sticky with drool, arm pinned under his pillow and throbbing uncomfortably from lack of blood.

A thump rang out through the room. Then again, again. It registered then that it was what woke up him, and he jumped up from his bed when he remembered that he was supposed to be waiting for Ryan. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he poked his head out the window to see if he could spot him.

Ryan was on the rooftop of the building next to him, jumping and rolling around something he couldn't see. Naim watched for a moment, confused, until Ryan saw him and his jaw dropped.

"Go inside! Close the window, quickly!" His voice rang out through the night, scaring Naim and making his legs shake. He surged forward to slam the window shut, but it was too late. A black figure shot through the window and landed on him, shoving him back several feet and planting heavily on his chest. He struggled to breathe. "What…what…" He panted, using his arms to swat at the thing on top of him.

It wasn't clear what it was. He couldn't make out a body or a face. Just a swirl of black, crushing his chest and pushing all the air out his lungs. He wheezed desperately, struggling to take in any air he could.

Then the weight was knocked off him, his room suddenly erupting in a haze of white webbing, the sound of fighting and fists colliding wetly. Naim stayed on the floor to catch his breath and count to ten. This had to be a dream. He couldn't wrap his mind around what was going on. He pushed himself up on his elbows once his heart had calmed down to a relatively normal level.

Ryan was hanging from the ceiling, a web wrapped around his ankle as he used his other leg to kick into the black swirl that was once on top of Naim. It was like a cloud of particles, but it moved like a human, emulating breathing with pulsing in and out movements. It took the form of a rough, immovable object every time one of Ryan's limbs slammed into it, essentially making it so whatever Ryan did had no effect on the thing.

Naim's heart started to pound again. He heard footsteps down the hall, approaching his room rapidly. "Naim?" One of his roommates was outside the door, banging on the wood and jiggling the knob frantically. "Naim, what's wrong? What's happening in there?"

Ryan and Naim registered this at the same time, realizing that they only had a few seconds to get out of this situation. So, accepting that he was about to be swung across Manhattan in his boxers and hole-y shirt, he let Ryan scoop him up in his arms and shoot out his window, swinging effortlessly through the sky, seemingly not bogged down in the slightest by Naim's weight.

He tries not to think too hard about this.

"This is why I don't show you my face!" Ryan shouted over the wind, leaning in to speak directly in Naim's ear. "He saw me go into your room and was waiting for me to come back!"

Yeah, okay. Naim was starting to understand now. He clutched harder onto Ryan's body, pressing his face into the space under his arm and letting himself be soothed by the comforting scent of him. He could feel Ryan's body stiffen, but ultimately he made no move to push him off. "I'm going to get you somewhere safe and then deal with him."

Naim didn't respond to this either. He let Ryan swing them to safety — which was somewhere they had been before together. It was a rooftop garden on top of a popular tourist attraction. They came here a lot together since the door was often locked, nobody allowed in or out aside from certain times of day. It was safe, covered. Familiar. Turf lined the ground, making it a soft landing from the jagged swinging that was almost making him dizzy at this point.

Once Ryan put him down on the ground safely, he stretched his wrist and made a move to spin a new web and attach it to the building next to them.

Naim shot out his hands to stop him. "Wait, Ryan!"

The web fell limply from the shooter as he turned around to face him. "Yeah, baby?" His voice had taken on that deeper register like from when they first met. This, along with the still lingering scent of Ryan in his nose and the feeling from Ryan once again saving him, was doing crazy things to Naim's head right now. He couldn't let him leave.

"Stay," He said simply, gesturing to the garden around them. "There's no one here. It doesn't know where we are. Stay with me."

Ryan stands there just breathing for a moment. "What do you mean stay? I have to go get this guy, Naim, I can't just —"

"Yes you can," Naim cuts him off. "You never come when I ask you to. I'm asking you now to stay. Don't you want to?"

A challenge, really. A test. It was immature to do, Naim knew it as soon as he opened his mouth. Obviously Ryan needed to go take care of that thing. Whatever it was. But he was drunk off adrenaline and the way Ryan's chest rose and fell with his heavy breaths, the sweat that lined the hem of his suit. It was making him crazy.

"Of course I want to," Ryan stepped closer to him, a hand reaching out to brush a stray piece of brown hair off Naim's forehead. "I wish I could stay here forever with you. I'm sorry I missed tonight."

Naim's lip wobbled and stuck out petulantly. "Again."

"Again." Ryan nodded. "I'm sorry, baby."

It's pathetic when he gets like this. Naim knows it is. He feels whiny and ungrateful. He feels like the entire city rests on Ryan's shoulders and he's asking him to throw it all away, just for him. A secret, selfish part of him deep down wishes he would. Naim didn't care about his powers or his suit or the swarm of adoring fans that followed him everywhere he went. He just wanted Ryan, even if it meant he never had to see the stupid suit again.

Even though he did really like the suit.

Ryan's hand came down to stroke his cheek, running a thumb over the apple of it and pressing softly into the skin and leaving a faint mark. Naim sighs under his touch and melts into his palm. "Just — just be with me here for a little. You can get him after."

For a second, Naim thinks Ryan will listen to him. He thinks he'll stay here on the rooftop with him and look at the stars. They can lay back on the turf and spend the rest of the night until sunset together. His body reacts before he does. All the blood starts rushing to his chest, his heart pounding so loud in his chest that Ryan looks down to see what the sound is.

"I wish I could baby." He says simply, cooing at the pleading noises Naim is making in his grasp. Desperate hands come around Ryan to clutch at the fabric of his suit, holding him in place and doing anything he can to keep him there. Before he even processes what's happening, Ryan pulls his hand from Naim's hair and grabs both his wrists, pinning them up over his head in a one-handed grasp before taking his other and shooting a web to tie them together.

Naim just gapes at him as Ryan lightly shoves him back against one of the chairs on the rooftop, tucked just underneath the bar. He webs Naim's hands above his head around the leg of the chair, shooting strands to secure his abdomen back against it as an extra layer of precaution. Now Naim really can't move.

He struggles in the restraints, frustration only growing as the weight of how fucking stuck he is dawns on him. Ryan's webs are strong. It's not the first time he's been stuck in them, and it's certainly not the first time they've been in a situation like this. But still. If Ryan thinks he's getting out of their prior conversation by doing this to him —

"Hey! This is not over, Ryan! You need to stay here, I don't want you going after that thing until —"

And then Ryan is shooting a web over his mouth, rendering him completely silent and pliant. He kicks his legs up for purchase, but then they're being stuck to the ground with more white fluid.

Ryan slowly walks towards him, careful to stay out of reach just in case Naim breaks out of his restraints. He crouches down, elbows perched on his knees to give him a very mischievous stance. "You're cute when you're quiet, you know."

Naim growls in his throat.

"I'm sorry for not coming earlier, Naim, I really am. But I have to go deal with this. I'll come back."

He thwips away without another word, leaving Naim to stew and grow hot under his clothes, despite being on the rooftop where the wind is strong and the air is cool.

Their dynamic has always been like this. Always teetering on the edge of something serious until Ryan has to leave, vanishing in the breeze like he was never really there. It's weird; it's constantly thrumming through Naim's veins, making him wonder if there was anything really there. Under the attraction and way they poke at each other, did Ryan actually care about him in the same way?

Ryan's life was a complete mystery to him. He only knew a handful of things that Ryan deemed safe to share with him, all surface level interests and random things off the top of his head. Being together was the best part of Naim's day, even if they talked about silly things and never went beyond the outer layer of skin. Since meeting a few months ago, waiting around for Ryan to appear at his window everyday was a whirlwind.

Sometimes they just talked. Sometimes they just smoked on the roof. Sometimes Naim patched him up. Sometimes they kissed on Naim's bed until he was breathless and had to take big gulps of air so he didn't collapse. Every single time, Naim was only allowed to see the bottom half of Ryan's face. He looked kind of funny, fully dressed in his suit just to hang out on the roof. Naim told him this much the last time they had gotten high.

"This suit is cool, cunt. It was made for every occasion, even sitting up here and smoking with your cute ass."

Of course, Ryan always knew what to say to everything. It was like a talent. He never stuttered over his words, never had to think twice about whatever joke he was going to share. Naim was fascinated with him.

Sitting here on the roof tied up in his webbing only made Naim's heart soar for him. He couldn't help it. Despite how whiny he was being earlier, Ryan took it in stride. The world was on his shoulders and he didn't even flinch, even if he was being begged otherwise.

It was a trait he admired so much in him that sometimes it made Naim sick. What did it say about Ryan that he was able to manage so much self control when everyone was counting on him?

Even Naim, who he had promised he was coming back to. Which, he hopes he does soon. His arms being pinned up in this position for so long is starting to hurt him. This ever present ache does nothing to falter the affection thrumming through his veins. Naim feels exposed like this on the roof, the thin fabric of his strictly sleeping attire doing nothing to cover him up. He can practically see the goosebumps sprouting up on his thighs.

The sounds of the New York city night overtake his senses and he lets himself listen for a bit. The sound of the train, cars, people bustling about on the ground under them. Naim wonders what Ryan looks like fighting that thing from earlier. He's never seen that particular villain before. He has no idea how it found him or where he lives.

Maybe Ryan was right. Maybe the only way to keep him safe is to remain a secret. Whatever keeps Ryan with him, he decides. The minutes pass as he waits for him to come back, rolling over their earlier conversation for the millionth time that night and trying not to cringe. Rolling over the fact that he tried to keep Ryan here instead of saving the rest of the city.

The rooftop timeout was definitely needed.

Eventually, his eyelids grow heavy and the several laps he's mentally running start to peter out. Before he can give into the exhaustion, a pair of feet land on the roof with a loud thud, waking him up for the second time that night. The pair of feet are attached to jeans, the jeans to a plaid button down he doesn't recognize. He feels himself start to sweat, hoping another villain hasn't come to attack him just from his proximity to Spider-man.

The man standing in front of him has blonde hair. curling around his pierced ears, framing his face in a gold halo that Naim can't tear his eyes away from. There are a few curls on top that are smashed down, almost as if they were pressed against his skull too long. Nervous blue eyes flit back and forth. Naim's breath catches in his throat as the man's gaze drags over the webbing that currently covers most of his body.

He doesn't recognize him. The man looks at him as if it should be obvious, but Naim's brain isn't working on full capacity, and all he can do is just gape dumbly while he takes in the sight in front of him.

"Naim." The man says, like a statement rather than a question. He cocks his head in question, lips pushing against the fluid that's currently melting on his face. "Naim." It's more annoyed the second time around.

Who is this random ass guy and why the hell is he getting mad at him?

Then, the blonde mop on his head starts to bounce as he exaggeratedly flicks his wrists a few times, hissing air between his teeth with every movement.

It's then when Naim realizes.

"Ryan?" He tries to say, but it comes out too muffled to fully make out the syllables. Ryan smiles, a laugh bubbling out of his throat and echoing across the rooftop. He strides over to Naim's tied up form and does the same crouch he did earlier, this time with the smug look on his face in full view.

"I told you I'd come back." He starts to pull at the webbing with un-gloved fingers, long and thick, full of callouses from days of swinging and fighting. Naim just watches him work, taking in every detail of the man in front of him, finally revealed in all his glory as a person, not just the superhero he's been limited to seeing all these months.

As soon as his arms are free, he jumps up and wraps his them around Ryan, practically hanging off him due to his legs not having been untangled yet. Ryan takes this in stride, using one arm to hold him up and curl him closer to his body.

"I can't believe it's really you," Naim whispers, pressing his face into the same cranny of his body that he did when they were swinging. "You're so hot."

Ryan laughs and guides Naim's head out with two fingers holding his jaw. "You don't have to smell check me, ya know. Who else would be able to get onto this roof?"

Naim doesn't answer, pressing back into his favorite spot and taking a deep inhale. Everything hits him at once, the fact that he's actually touching him skin to skin, Ryan's unmuffled voice in his ear, the feeling of eyes he can see roaming his body and glistening in the streetlights. It's too much. His sinuses start to grow heavy with the threat of tears, excitement rushing through his body and filling his cheeks with blood.

"Nobody but you," He affirms, pressing his chin to Ryan's sternum as he looks dazed at his face. Ryan is already looking down at him, lips pursed and ready for a kiss. They kiss and it's perfect. Naim reaches up to touch the apples of his cheeks, dig his fingers into the side of his nose. Make sure he's really here. He's really in front of him.

Eventually, Ryan pulls away with a sloppy peck. "Now we can never fight about showing up again."

"We might still fight about you getting hurt though. I need more gauze."

"We can swing down and get some after this." He smiles, another kiss to Naim's eyelashes and the tip of his nose. "The suit would have to go back on though."

"Fine by me. I like the suit."

Ryan scoffs loudly. "I thought the whole fuckin' point was that you hated the suit!"

They've moved over to the bar stools at this point, seated together with their knees knocking and their hands tangled between them. Naim can see him better here, illuminated by the light of the small lights hanging from the bar top. He can't get enough of his face.

"I don't hate the suit, Ryan. I hated not knowing who you were under it because that's all that matters to me."

For the first time, and hopefully not the last, Naim is blessed with the sight of Ryan blushing. It spreads all the way down to his neck. "Really?"

"Yeah, cunt. I don't want to date Spider-man. I want to date you." He pauses for a moment at the quirk of Ryan's mouth. "Okay, Spider-man too. Mostly you, though."

A beat of silence lands comfortably between them. Naim catches Ryan looking out beyond the rooftop, watching the bustling street below them continuing on, even when he's not in the air rescuing someone. Life goes on. The people of New York would always need him, but Naim needed him too.

He speaks without turning his face away from the view. "You're the first person who actually knows all of me. It's so weird."

"Wow, rude."

Ryan's head snaps back. "Not weird-bad. Good-weird. I never thought about being with someone like this before you. You make me want to break all my rules." Naim just smiles at him. "Especially when you look at me like that."

"Stop," Naim shoves Ryan away from him, unable to handle the mushiness of it all. Everything is so big and heavy. Everything is so much. He can't handle the way his heart pounds erratically with every word that he can physically watch leave Ryan's mouth.

Obviously, the shove doesn't do much. Ryan doesn't even move, easily grabbing Naim's hand to hold him still. "Careful. I can still web you up again."

Naim's ears turn red. Which Ryan sees immediately. "Oh my God. Don't tell me you like that, you fuckin' perv!"

"Maybe a little," The wind sweeps by then, blowing their hair to the side and drowning out their voices. Naim has to speak up to continue, "No webbing me up again until we've had our proper first date though. Actually, don't do that again at all."

Ryan shrugs. "You were being bratty. What else was I supposed to do?" He pulls at one of Naim's fingers until the knuckle pops. "We've had our first date already. A few months ago."

"Not with your mask off."

He smiles. "Okay, fine. No webbing up until then."

"I said at all."

"Loud and clear. Until then."

Naim has nothing more to add. He definitely does want that again. A change in topic is a much safer place to go before he starts blabbing about how much he actually likes to be webbed up.

"What made you change your mind?"

Another knuckle gets popped. Naim keeps his hands in Ryan's hold, taking the small jolts of pain as they come. Their bare fingers fit together perfectly, the pads of each one pressing together like they were made for one another.

"Was fighting the thing, thinking about you the whole time. Thinking about how no matter if I show you or not, we'll always have to deal with something." He looks up at Naim with his bottom lip bit between his teeth. "Thinking about how upset you were. I hate seeing you that way."

Naim gulps.

"So I just… decided to man up. Stop being a cunt about it. You're the most important thing to me. I want to give you the world. Had to start with my face, I guess."

Despite how much confidence he speaks with, it's clear Ryan is nervous. He keeps looking down when the eye contact gets to be too much, and Naim tries his best to stroke a thumb across his palm every time it happens to keep their eyes on each other.

He decides to throw Ryan a bone and not make him struggle anymore through his words. "What about the thing?"

Ryan laughs. "What about that thing? Fuckin' got it good I did. Thing came after ya… I was never going to let it get away from me."

Naim doesn't know who moves first. All he knows is that as soon as the words leave Ryan's mouth, their lips are pressed together again, the metal bar stools squeaking across the floor loudly as they scoot closer. The kiss gets deeper, Ryan's hand reaching behind Naim's head to pull at the small hairs at the nape of his neck. He moans, pushing a tongue into Ryan's mouth and licking behind his teeth.

"Thank you for keeping me safe." Naim says into Ryan's mouth, punctuating it with a swipe of his tongue across his bottom lip, biting into it and tugging it out with a wet sound.

A low moan erupts from Ryan's chest. "Anything for you." He clears his throat, wipes the spit from his mouth.

"When can we go on that date, baby?"