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Peter's first kiss had been very spur of the moment. It had also been with Ned.
They were fourteen and stupid. In a shoddily-made pillow fort up on Peter’s top bunk, heads ducked because their blanket-roof was starting to cave in at the middle. They were too old for blanket forts but it didn't matter. It was one in the morning, and everything was hilarious in a way that made Peter feel like a child. Knees knocking, laughter bubbling up around them, the same joke run to the ground.
"Shh, shhhh. You'll wake May," Ned hissed. Because Peter had tipped his head back and cackled. He couldn't even tell you what was so funny. Maybe it was the memory of the terrible stop-motion movie they'd been filming all day. All those hours of work, and they had about five seconds of footage. Maybe it was the memory of Ned's face when the screen had gone black and they'd realised that was it. He'd looked so heartbroken. It was ridiculous. Peter couldn't stop laughing.
The thing was: Ned was staying the night and it was a night. Peter felt exhilarated. At school, Liz had looked at him. At home, May had made them double-choc brownies. And about two months ago, he'd discovered that he had superpowers. Real life superpowers. That he could climb walls and leap from rooftop to rooftop and lift cars like apples above his head.
The whole being bitten by a radioactive spider thing had sucked, of course. When Peter thought back to it, those first few days appeared to him only as a spinning room, all the light too bright through the sweat in his eyes, a searing pain in his head. He could see May's worried face. Oh, Peter, you're running a fever. He'd slept, her voice still ringing around his ears. Oh, he thought, that's all that's wrong with me. Then he'd woken the following evening and accidentally pulled his bedroom door off its hinges.
His first thought, upon discovering he had super strength, was that he couldn't wait to tell Ned.
The only thing that had stopped him, when he'd returned to school two days later, was the knowledge that Michelle Jones could overhear him. She sat at the end of their table during lunch, her nose in a book, but Peter could sense her ears pricked toward them like a cat. He'd paused, mouth open, the words half-way out his throat. Watched her fingers still on the page. And when he'd paused, he'd realised that he was about to say something truly incredible. As in, the kind of thing that made the news. That scientists would study. That he couldn't just blab about in the middle of the cafeteria, where the wrong person could hear him. Where anyone could. Including Michelle Jones and her constantly listening ears.
Including Ned.
Peter was well-versed in all things superhero, and he knew that this was the kind of thing you kept secret. So he said nothing. Though he still sometimes thought, I'll tell Ned soon, I'll tell Ned eventually, he knew that he couldn't actually tell him. Not if Peter wanted to be smart about this, and he really wanted to be smart about it. So it just simmered up inside him, this all-encompassing feeling of excitement, until he couldn’t sit still or stop smiling or feel anything other than a series of exclamation points.
That’s where Peter was, emotionally, mentally, that night. It was all that feeling, that adrenaline, that sent him swooping towards Ned’s mouth.
Technically, Ned had triggered it, though.
“We really should have worked harder on the fort’s foundations,” Ned had said, lifting a hand to push up against the sinking ceiling.
Peter had his legs crossed, his right knee bouncing on his left ankle, and was restlessly clicking and clapping his hands together in his lap. He looked at Ned, who was occupied with straightening up the piles of pillows they’d swept the blanket over. The fort was lit with only a flashlight, pockets of light between pockets of shadows, and Peter could see the concentrative wrinkle between Ned’s brows.
Peter was fond of the wrinkle. It meant Ned was thinking, that Ned was coming up with something, and Peter loved everything Ned came up with. All their dumb made-up science projects, their creative Lego fortresses, their nerdy teen shenanigans. Even their terrible stop-motion movie, which Peter tried very hard not to laugh about again. They were a result of that wrinkle between Ned’s brows.
Sometimes Peter felt such strong rushes of affection for Ned and he wasn’t entirely surely what they meant.
“If the whole thing collapses, I’ll throw myself over you and sacrifice my life for yours,” Peter joked.
Ned laughed. He looked at Peter. “Okay, Avenger.”
Peter felt that was maybe the best thing ever uttered out of anyone’s mouth.
He surged forward and kissed Ned.
It was a quick kiss. Just the press of Peter’s mouth against Ned’s mouth. And when Peter pulled back he felt inexplicably breathless. Ned looked justifiably wide-eyed.
“Uh…you just kissed me,” Ned said, like Peter hadn’t noticed.
Peter meant to say something but instead he just swallowed. His heart was beating furiously in his chest.
“Do you…like…like me?” Ned asked. There was no malice or disgust in his voice. He just sounded curious. “I thought you liked Liz.”
Peter did. He’d been crushing on her since the moment he saw her.
“I don’t know,” Peter replied honestly. Then, like it explained anything, added, “You’re my best friend.”
Ned was still processing. Staring at nothing in particular, he lifted his hand slowly and pressed two fingers to his bottom lip. Then he dropped his hand and looked, again, at Peter. Peter watched him, waiting, perched, still catching his breath.
“That was my first kiss,” Ned said.
“Mine too,” Peter replied. His adrenaline was slowly deflating, leaving space to worry. “Was it bad?”
“No,” Ned replied, surprisingly certain. “Just weird.”
“Sorry,” Peter said.
“It’s okay.” Ned went quiet, and the wrinkle between his brows returned. Peter’s heart skipped, feeling a little guilty, a little embarrassed, a little stupid. He hoped Ned’s idea was something good. “It wasn’t bad,” Ned reaffirmed. “Maybe we should try again. See if it’s less weird.”
Peter’s heart skipped again, but this time it landed in his throat. “Okay.”
He shuffled forward, closing the small gap between them, so his crossed-legs bumped Ned’s crossed-legs. Then he looked very intently at Ned’s face, trying to figure out the best course of action.
His hands raised and dropped – should he put them somewhere? On Ned’s face? His knee? They fell limply on Peter’s crossed ankles. He leant forward and Ned leant forward, but they both tilted their head the same way. Peter decided he should cup Ned’s face. But the moment he lifted his hand, Ned lifted his own, and they clashed in the middle.
They pulled their hands back, glanced at each other, and burst out laughing.
“Okay, wait,” Ned said, holding his chest from laughing so hard. “You gotta sit still."
"Why do I gotta sit still?"
"Because you're moving too much."
"You're moving, too."
"Yeah, but you're like, twitching."
"Twitching?"
"Just." Ned sighed, exasperated. "Let me try, Peter, okay?"
He put his hand on Peter's shoulder. There was some weight to it, like he was trying to keep Peter in place. But Peter was being still now, his hands on his crossed ankles. Seeing Ned lean in was making his stomach swoop, and that made it hard to move at all.
Peter closed his eyes. Ned kissed him.
This kiss was a little longer. More intentional. When Ned pulled away, Peter could feel that his own face was bright red, that his mouth was hanging opening kind of stupidly.
"Wow," said Peter. "You're a good kisser." He truly meant it, though he had nothing to compare it to. But that kiss had brought all of his adrenaline back. Pure, buzzing energy - he could probably take his door off the hinges again. Instead, he just blurted, "am I a good kisser?"
"Not really," said Ned.
"Oh," said Peter.
"You were still moving too much," said Ned.
"What?! When did I move? No, seriously, dude," Peter interrupted, when Ned opened his mouth, "I was being so still."
"You were moving your hands or something. Rubbing them up and down your legs."
"No, I wasn't!"
"You're literally doing it right now."
Peter stilled, his hands covering the bumps of his ankles. Okay, well, Ned had him there. It was just a nervous habit of his, needing to move all the time.
"Alright, but." Peter steeled himself. "What did you think? Was it weird?"
Ned thought for a moment. His eyes were downturned and his face was smooth as he did; no wrinkle between his brows. Just his mouth pressed together, in a way that felt very adult, as he thought it over. Peter could hardly stand it. He was still buzzing, a fly beating against a window pane. Come on come on come on, tell me. Was it weird? I don't think it was that weird. I kinda liked kissing you. But maybe that's just because you're good at it. I think I'm good at it, too. I really wasn't moving that much. But I think I'd probably like to kiss Liz even more. I don't know. How do people know these things? I've got superpowers by the way.
"It wasn't weird," Ned said, finally. "But it was...I don't know." He seemed to notice how intently Peter was staring at him for the first time, because he laughed, and looked a little embarrassed. "What did you think, dude? You're the one who kissed me in the first place."
For some reason, Ned looking nervous made Peter feel nervous. Ned was usually chill about everything.
"I don't think it was weird. Like I said, you're good- it was - you're the one who wanted to try it again," Peter said.
"Yeah." Ned laughed, all air. "It was fine," he said. "Not bad. For some reason, I'm mostly thinking about our movie, though."
"We can talk about that instead," Peter suggested. Though really he wanted Ned to tell him, moment by moment, how he felt about the kiss, and whether he would ever want to do it again, and whether this meant Ned had a crush on him.
"I think we gotta start it with an action scene, bro," Ned said, pained, like this hurt him to admit. "You know. The whole, 'character wakes up and gets out of bed' thing is kinda boring."
Peter blinked. "You want to start it again? Dude, all we got was him opening his eyes and pushing his blanket off. He didn't even get out of bed. And that took a whole lifetime."
Ned shrugged. The wrinkled had reappeared, which meant he probably wasn't even listening. He scrambled around Peter and climbed down from the bunk bed, mumbling while he did. It was just so Ned that Peter couldn't be mad. Between the two of them, they could talk an ear off, and then some. With Ned, it was always his ideas that bubbled out of him. As he opened Peter's laptop, he kept up a constant stream of what he thought they could film next. It opens with a car chase. Police sirens. And our guy swerving to avoid a collision. His feelings were usually closed off - it was rare that Peter ever got a glimpse of them. With Peter, it was hard to not to tell people what he was feeling as soon as he felt it.
He kept the feeling he felt, then, to himself though. The weird feeling he got, looking at Ned. It was fine. They'd tried something and now Ned was playing their five second video again and they were laughing, and it was like nothing had ever happened. Like it didn't change anything between them. They'd go to school and Peter would flush when Liz walked past him in the hall and he and Ned would whisper together at the back of all their classes and Michelle would sit herself quietly at the end of their table with her ears pricked toward them and the kiss would just be something they had done, once, while giddy and stupid at a sleepover.
But in that moment, watching Ned rearrange their Lego pieces to create his new opening scene, the memory of the kiss so present he could still sense it, Peter got a weird feeling. Ned flicked him a look and laughed and it was like the walls were spinning, slightly. Like even in the dimly lit room, at nearly two in the morning, the lights were a little too bright.