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Peter grabs a bouquet of flowers as he always does. They're a pretty purple pink color, May will like them, he thinks. He has so much to tell her when he sees her. If she were here she would have admonished him for almost dying, pull him in for a crushing hug and then check his basically healed stitches in that order.
The thought, albeit sad, has a smile flitting across his face. He half turns to make his way to the counter and pay but something out of the corner of his eye catches his attention. At one of the tables near the windows sits Ned.
He hasn't noticed him yet, too engrossed in his food and whatever he's watching on his phone. Peter watches him and notes all the changes time has brought his friend. So much has happened in his absence, the videos didn't do him justice.
His hair is swept to the side instead of its usual middle part. His fashion has changed too. Peter had seen it happen, nerdy graphic tees exchanged for button downs and classier styles over the course of his videos. But it's unfathomably odd to see it. It's like a sudden slap to the face each time because it takes him a moment to register that it's Ned.
Four years ago and he wouldn't have thought that was possible.
Peter doesn't know what possesses him but instead of walking towards the counter he slowly makes his way towards Ned. Every footstep feels like he's wading through wet concrete as anxiety crawls up into his throat.
It was much easier to approach him under a fake name and beneath the mask. But his feet carry him forwards and soon he stands by his table, waiting for Ned to take notice.
Ned startles when he sees him, quickly pausing his video and putting down his sandwich. Neither one of them speaks, and it's not for a lack of trying on Peter's part.
The words stick to the back of his throat, stubbornly clinging to the soft tissue no matter how many times he tries to swallow the discomfort down. He adjusts his grip on the bouquet, trying to move the words past his teeth and out of his mouth.
Peter watches helplessly as Ned's gaze flits from his face to the bouquet and back to his face again. Something in his eyes clicks into place and Peter feels a nudge at the back of his neck but Ned speaks before he can.
Ned leans forwards in his chair, an easy smile filling his face. "I am flattered that you would ask and I just have to say, yes I would be delighted."
"Delighted? Delighted to…?" Peter asks, sheer confusion kicking the words right out of his mouth.
"Yeah, delighted to go on a date with you?" Ned says with a slight laugh like this is obvious. "You even got me flowers."
Peter looks down at the flowers he clutches in his hand and feels his stomach revolt. He can't tell if it's the nerves, the embarrassment at fumbling approachinghis best friend so badly or the shock at being flirted with after avoiding almost all human contact for four years.
He looks back up at Ned, his best friend, his only friend for a long time.
"Yeah, yeah you got me there," he says and what is he saying? This is not what he hadn't planned at all.
The not plan was to say hello, maybe even tell him his actual name. Anything besides this. This wasn't even in the ballpark of plans or ideas but his own stupid mouth spoke it into existence.
Ned quickly wipes his hands off on a napkin and grabs his phone. He taps at the screen before turning it to him. Peter stares at it a second too long when he realizes it's his contacts. He already has my number, he thinks his heart squeezing as he remembers that Ned does not. Not anymore. He takes the phone and inputs his name and number before handing it back to him.
"I'll let you know when I'm free," Ned says, a glance at his phone, "…Peter."
It has been so long since he's heard Ned say his name that he stands there, feeling a warm fuzziness blossoming in his chest smiling like an idiot for far too long. Ned stares back at him his smile twitching and Peter flushes because he knows that look. Ned's trying not to laugh.
"Here," he says thrusting the flowers in his face a tad too aggressively. Ned's smile doesn't waver, in fact it grows as he reaches out to take them but Peter pulls them back before he can.
"I uh I just remembered that I haven't paid for these yet so um-" he gestures to Ned and his table. "Stay here a moment."
He is such an idiot. Shit. Great now he's scared off his only friend forever. Gone. Done-zo. Goofed. Biffed it, he berates as he strides towards the counter.
The owner of the shop, Carlos, is manning the register today and he winks at him when he places down the flowers.
"I didn't know you had it in you little man," he says, a teasing tilt to his tone and it reminds Peter of two things.
One, that he is not the only person in the world and that other people do hear him when he speaks. Two, that Carlos heard every single sentence of that entire conversation. This shop isn't exactly big.
Peter feels a blush crawling up his neck, his face aflame as a sweat breaks out across the small of his back. "It was pretty spur of the moment."
"Aye, I'll say," Carlos whistles, laughing a little as he taps his knuckles against the counter before sliding the bouquet back towards him. "On the house ese."
Peter knows when to pick his battles by now and this is not one of those times but that doesn't mean he will readily accept defeat.
"Oh, man you don't have to."
Carlos shakes his head, straightening as he waves him away. "You're my most loyal customer. Now don't keep your guy waiting any longer," he says tipping his head in Ned's direction.
Peter slides the bouquet back towards him, wallet already in hand. Carlos raises his brows and tilts his head at him. It's a look that conveys that he has seen Peter resort to scrounging around outside for loose change to cover his bill before.
"Come on" he begs, but it's about as sturdy as fast food toilet paper.
Carlos squints his eyes at him as he slides the bouquet back over. Okay, he has seen him scrounge for change more than once.
"Carlos…"
The man leans across the counter on one folded arm like he's imparting secret wisdom. "This dating shit will only get more expensive from here ese. Guy or girl, that don matter. I'm trying to help you out in the early stages bro. The infancy, the most fragile stage."
Carlos looks him in the eyes and Peter flattens his mouth in a straight line like he's trying o swallow his own lips. The signature, walking past someone on the side walk, but without the head nod portion of it. Carlos is one hundred percent corr- wait. No, no he isn't because this is a one time fluke.
But he can't say all of that to Carlos so Peter sighs and accepts defeat. "Thank you, Carlos," he mutters as he grabs the bouquet.
"Go get him Romeo!" Carlos laughs, his words just quiet enough that hopefully Ned doesn't hear it.
His ears burn as he makes his way back to the table, Ned looks up from his phone at his approach. With his nerves revolting in his stomach and his heart hammering in his chest he gives Ned the bouquet. Ned takes it and wow he did not know Ned could smile like that.
It's like the sun poking out from behind rain clouds. Ned gets up from the table his smile never waning as he gathers his things.
"I'll be seeing you," he says and all Peter can do is wave as he watches him go.
Numerous emotions wrestle inside of him. Elation that he's seeing Ned again. Confusion at the situation he's found himself in and nervousness. He feels like he's just run a marathon, winded, hot and cold all over while simultaneously victorious.
He stands there for several seconds mulling over the last few minutes again and again. He's knocked from his stupor by Carlos's snort from the register.
"Shit," he mutters because he never got May flowers. He hurries to do so now and mentally preemptively apologizes to his aunt for being late.
She'll understand once he explains the situation.
______________
Going on a date with your estranged best friend is a good way to keep him in your life, right? That's one way of doing things he supposes. At least Ned didn't take him for a creep because he does set up a place and a time to meet.
Small victories but that doesn't fix his current problem. Sometimes he wishes Spider-Man was enough to pay the bills, or any for that matter, as he stands in front of his meager closet mulling over his options.
Most of his shirts are ratty with wear, holes abound and mysterious stains that may or may not be blood. He doesn’t really pay attention to how Peter looks. His civilian self doesn’t matter nearly as much.
He will change that starting with his next paycheck because my God his options suck. None of these are date outfits. Some of them are passable but they're still not nice enough. They aren't even going anywhere fancy, just a small Italian place for dinner but still, he wants to look nice.
He needs to make a good impression if he ever hopes to get his best friend back. And he doesn't get out much for fun things. Most of what he does is Spider-Man and a plethora of shifts at Delmar's. Either long hours swinging around and getting the shit beat out of him or long hours standing behind a counter making sandwiches.
He eyes sweep over his options again, searching for a miracle that won't come. The only thing that meets his standards is a shirt that technically isn't his on account of accidentally stealing it.
When in Rome…
Peter puts the shirt on. He finds his best pair of jeans and fixes up his hair. At least he tries to manage it. He's working with a brush, water and his hands as styling tools. He gets it to an acceptable degree of messy and goes to find his bracelets.
His find them and puts them on. Two leather bands with a thin raised stripe in the middle of the bands to give the design a dynamic look. They fit over his web glands exactly as he needs them to.
The web glands and the surrounding area are sensitive. No webs come out without pressure but he wants to keep accidents to a minimum. Hitting his wrist on something and then experiencing a reflexive release of web fluid is not pleasant in the slightest.
He does not want an unforeseen accident to ruin this. He can only imagine the questions Ned would have for him.
He laughs as he thinks of the kinds of questions Ned would ask. It calms some of his nerves but why am I nervous? It’s Ned. The Ned, his best friend. He smooths his hair one last time, spritzes some cologne and straightens the imaginary wrinkles from his shirt. He looks good, put together, his clothes intentional instead of blindly thrown on.
“Wish me luck May,” he whispers, kissing his hand and pressing it into the blank space behind him in the mirror.
He locks up and makes his way over to the restaurant. Thankfully, Ned picked something within walking distance of both their apartments as neither one of them owns a car.
The restaurant is small, cozy but it is also packed with people. Constant movement as people move around him, bodies going in and out of the building and Peter mourns his choice in outfit because people are staring at him. Not in a bad way but it’s weird to be so acknowledged as himself.
He’s used to stares as Spider-Man, crowds forming below him as he swings by with fingers pointing and cameras flashing but there is nothing to hide behind when out of the suit. He feels every bit of his exposed skin. His bare arms and the sliver of his stomach. He shivers beneath the stares that he isn't entirely certain are real.
He's probably making more than half of them up, his anxiety fabricating the lie that he's more interesting than he actually is but he can't help it. Goosebumps sprout along his skin as a cold breeze whips by. He was so focused on a decent outfit that he forgot to account for the weather.
He stands there off to the side, away from the door, shivering. He rubs his hands up and down his arms, hugging them close to his body. He's so consumed by the chill in his bones that he doesn't notice someone drawing closer until there's a tap on his shoulder.
Peter's stomach drops to his feet his mind supplying him with all manner of horrible scenarios. Nearly all of them revolving around someone having found him out. It is pure instinct that he throws a hit out at the body behind him. It doesn't connect and as terrifying as that felt at first he is so glad that it didn't.
Ned stands behind him, arms held up in a placating manner. "Woah."
Peter drop his hands immediately and he goes to put his hands on his shoulders before reconsidering. Ned doesn't know you. He pivots poorly, the almost action clearly telegraphed as he settles for awkwardly waving them around Ned's general vicinity.
"I am so sorry I hadn't meant to do that I swear."
"Nah, it's chill you didn't even get me," Ned assures waving him off. "But you know martial arts?"
"Sort of?" Peter answers, lowering his arms to his sides as he tries not to think about how this is literally the same line of questioning he was expecting. Now is not the time to burst out laughing.
Ned hums and he leans in closer, not disturbed in the least by Peter almost hitting him out of pure fear two seconds ago. "I mean looking at your arms you definitely work out," he says while gently squeezing his bicep.
Did he just use that as an excuse to touch his muscles? Ned's hand runs up and down his arm. Gently squeezing here and there and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. His hands are warm and soft and why is it working?
Wait that's a compliment. That was a flirty compliment and he needs to give one back but he's distracted by Ned taking advantage of his silence to fully feel up his arm. And Peter is inclined to let him. His brain feels sluggish as the touch seeps into his skin, chasing away the chill like a warm blanket thrown over his shoulders and bundled in his chest.
He mentally reminds himself to say something back but his mouth isn't working right now. He stands there, letting Ned feel his arms without saying a word. Ned is more than happy to do it, obviously, a slight smile on his face. It warms Peter up by way of more than just physical touch. He's gone all warm and fuzzy inside too.
The moment passes as does his window to compliment him back. Ned's hand stops wandering and instead he loops his arm around his, tugging him to walk with him as they head towards the entrance.
"So, we've established that you work out but what else do you do for fun?"
"I like building Legos but I haven't actually bought any in a long time," he answers.
Ned lights up at that and soon they launch into an easy conversation that, unbeknownst to Ned, they've had many times before. They reach their table and order their food but the conversation continues to flow. Legos, Star Wars, superheroes and the technical and scientific jargon that they both know.
It's amazing how despite the context of being on a date it hardly feels like one at all. Would he mind if it was? He doesn't think he would. He loves Ned, always has so what's a little more emphasis put on the word?
Sitting here, enjoying a nice meal with his best friend in the whole world is the happiest he's felt in a while. A long while.
"it's crazy how that whole freeze thing happened. After the blip and everything New York deserves a break," Ned says.
Peter nods along, letting him ramble as he tucks into his food but then he feels it. A pain starts at the back of his neck, sharp stabs like ice picks driven down towards the bone. He knows he only has a handful of seconds before it spreads.
Not now, not now, please I don't want to ruin this.
Every sound in the room amplifies as his vision begins to soften around the edges. Ned's voice, the voices of those around them and the clinking of silverware on plates. The body heat of other people in the room turns into a pressing weight instead of a layer of added warmth.
"I have to go," he says and the words hurt to speak. The sound of his own voice drives the ice picks in deeper. A hammer to nails as the noise vibrates throughout his face, buzzing beneath his skin and behind his eyes as a noxious hum.
He doesn't look back as he abruptly leaves the table. He looks at the floor, hands covering his ears as the oncoming headache pounds behind his eyes. He feels it in his teeth, the pain grinding into the back of his molars. He doesn't pay attention to anything else as he focuses on getting out of here.
He runs out the front doors, the night air enveloping him like a balm as breathing becomes easier. He heads to the side of the building and into an alley way where the overwhelming sounds of people dissipate. He slumps against the wall, sitting down on the ground with his head between his knees.
He clamps his hands around his ears as the pain rolls through him. Pound after pound of throbbing spikes as all he can do is wait for it to leave. His hands provide some comfort by muffling the noises he can't escape from. The sounds of cars blocks away, water running through pipes beneath his feet and people's heartbeats in the building behind his back.
He breathes through clenched teeth, waiting and trying not to cry as he hears a heartbeat drawing closer. He feels someone standing in front of him but Peter doesn't dare move. Moving makes it worse, he runs the risk of throwing up the dinner he's just eaten.
The person doesn't speak. They stand there assessing the situation before slowly moving to sit down next to him. Peter can't hold back a flinch at the noise of their clothes scraping against the brick and he swears he hears their wince. He retreats into his ball but having them here is a blessing.
It gives him something to focus on. He can focus all of his energy into the sounds their body makes. The beating of their heart, their breathing and anything and everything in between that he hadn't known made noise before. He lets go of the ear that faces the person and holds out his hand.
Their hand slips into his, squeezing it tightly and he knows instantly that it's Ned. He'd recognize that touch anywhere. A warm, soft hand with a little bit of sweat on the palm. It's familiar and comforting and exactly what he needs right now.
Ned stays with him, not saying a single word as he squeezes his hand in steady rhythms. Peter matches it as he squeezes back after each one he receives.
The pain eventually recedes like a wave getting pulled back out to sea. It lingers in some places but it's not overwhelming anymore. He can breathe around its weight. Peter lifts his head and looks to Ned sitting next to him with nothing but abject concern etched into his face.
Embarrassment and guilt lances through him and the first thing he says since this whole thing started is, "I'm sorry for ruining our date."
"It's not ruined Peter," Ned says with a conviction that startles him.
Ned looks him in his eyes and there isn't an ounce of regret in them. No annoyance or anything. It has his body uncurling from its tight anxiety induced ball. Peter feels his body relax and he doesn't stop himself from leaning into the touch offered to him. He leans over and rests his head on Ned's shoulder.
"It isn't?"
"No, you're so easy to be around," Ned answers as he wraps an arm around his shoulders, hugging him to his chest.
"Even after all this?" Peter can't help to ask but even as he says it he knows his answer.
He hears Ned's heartbeat, and it's slightly elevated than it was but it is as steady as the man himself. He's warm and soft, the scent of his cologne surrounds him and he feels as if he can actually breathe.
He feels Ned nod, the fall and rise of his chest as he takes a breath in. "Mhmm even after this. There is no one else I'd rather be sitting in a dark alley looking up at the stars with."
Peter looks up at him from where he rests his head. Ned's face is backlit by a street lamp, making the edges of his hair translucent and brown. This close he can see the blush fighting to be seen on his tanned skin.
Their breathes mixing together as a bubble of warmth against the cold. If Peter were to tilt his head up their lips would touch.
"Promise?"
He watches Ned nod and his gaze lingers on his lips before dragging back to his face.
"Actions speak louder than words. Is it alright if I show you?"
Peter may be dumb when it comes to matters such as this but he isn't that dumb. He knows what Ned is asking. He knows what it would mean to permit it.
He thinks of Ned doing everything in his power to make him comfortable. And he thinks about how what lead him here turned out to be the best misunderstanding ever.
"…Yes," he answers.
Peter tilts his head back and Ned leans down, letting their lips touch. Ned's lips are as soft as his hands and the kiss is little more than a pressing of skin on skin but it has his heart pounding regardless. He hears Ned's doing the same thing.
It doesn't feel like a first kiss between them. It feels like being welcomed home with open arms. It's a warm meal filling his stomach, the first snow of the year and it is anything that Peter could ask for. He feels a whine emerge from the back of his throat and he hears Ned's heartbeat skyrocket.
Peter's hand travels to Ned's hair, feeling the smooth strands pass through his fingers. He feels Ned's hand on his back slide lower, grazing the tops of his jeans as his pinky finger teases the band of his briefs.
They break apart and Peter resists the urge to hide his blushing face in Ned's chest. He sits up, returning to sitting beside him as he tries to put some distance between himself and the growing heat between them. They are in a public alley way of the restaurant they were very recently dining at.
"You look good by the way. I forgot to say so earlier," he blurts at a lack of anything else to say.
"Thank you. You know you're looking pretty good yourself," Ned says, catching what he's throwing with the grace of someone who once knew him best.
"Oh, yeah?" Peter laughs. "I gathered that when you were feeling me up earlier."
"Moment ruined," Ned deadpans as he scoots away from him. Well, as much as he can while refusing to let go of his hand.
"Come on Ned-"
The scooting transforms into standing and Peter is forced to follow. Ned doesn't look at him, playing up his false anger as they begin to wander back towards the front of the restaurant.
"No, no I said what I said."
"I'll make it up to you. How does a delicious Italian dinner sound?" Peter says, trying his hardest not to laugh but the mirth is clear to hear in his voice.
"I am feeling a little peckish…" Ned concedes, looking his way.
Peter lets go of his hand as they near the doors. He holds one open for Ned with a dramatic bow.
"After you."
"You are such a nerd," Ned laughs, shaking his head as he walks on in.
Peter follows after him, linking hands as they navigate back to their seats. "We are nerds."
The only response he gets is a snort he never thought he'd get to hear again.