Chapter Text
Every year, for the past five years, Peter Parker spent eleven dollars and forty-three cents on flowers he was reasonably sure Aunt May would have called a waste of money.
Don’t get him wrong, May had loved flowers.
During the summer after eighth grade…or rather…after Uncle Ben… May became determined to get her hands on as much flora paraphernalia as she could find—the brighter the better. Roses on the windowsill. Vines on the ceilings. Petals stitched onto her jeans. Anything that might’ve made their small corner of Queens feel a little less gray. She’d once come home from the farmer’s market with an industrial-sized crate of chrysanthemums and spent that entire winter insisting the flower box was “thriving” while Peter watched the petals slowly brown beneath the fire escape—
May had loved flowers.
But she would’ve objected to the price.
“Eleven dollars?” she would’ve chuckled. “Peter, honey, we live in Queens—”
And Peter would’ve told her that eleven dollars wasn’t that much—I mean, Mr. Stark had probably used hundred-dollar bills as napkins at one point in time—and then May would’ve given him that look, the one that said she had raised him better than to lie directly to her face—
He smiled despite himself. Those hurt much less nowadays.
Peter stood beside the refrigerated flower display near the front of the corner café as the cashier rang him out, holding a bundle of purple chrysanthemums wrapped in brown paper, and stared at absolutely nothing for several seconds.
It was a new habit he’d picked up post-“arachnid metamorphosis.” It did a surprisingly good job of quieting his newly supercharged senses.
“Your change.”
Peter blinked.
The cashier was holding out a few crumpled bills and coins.
“Oh. Right. Sorry!”
He took them, then dropped the whole handful into the tip jar before she could finish sliding his receipt across the counter.
“Thanks.”
“Yeah! You too—”
You too?
Peter shook his head, muttering it under his breath as he turned away from the counter.
Then he saw Ned.
Iced coffee in one hand, laptop open in front of him, headphones hanging around his neck.
His appearance still took some getting used to these days.
His hair was shorter now. The curls were subtle but prominent enough to make Peter constantly notice. He was wearing a dark purple sweater this time around—his favorite color—and a watch Peter definitely would’ve made fun of him for when they were seventeen because it looked expensive and Ned had once gone through an entire semester wearing a digital calculator on his wrist.
Ned took a sip of coffee. Frowned at something on his screen. Scratched the side of his nose.
Peter’s hands tightened around the flower stems.
There had been many—many—times over the past five years when Peter had silently wished Doctor Strange had let him forget, too.
Sure, after everything with Jean and Frank and all the chaos with the DODC, Peter had finally come to understand that the world still had room for the man beneath the suit. People could still care about him, even if none of them quite knew him yet.
Still.
Every time he looked at Ned—and every time he looked at her, of course, but that was a whole other can of worms—Peter found himself wanting to cling to every memory he had and forget them all at once…
The first time Peter had dropped out of his bedroom window while Ned sat behind him absolutely vibrating with excitement.
“You’re the Spider-Man? From YouTube?”
Europe.
Ned’s eclectic hats.
Ned hugging him so hard after—...big and warm and crushingly familiar…
Peter swallowed.
Ned finally looked up.
There was always some irrational tiny part of Peter that still waited, every time, for recognition or for Ned’s face to change or for his eyes to widen or—
Ned’s expression did change.
Just not like that.
His eyebrows lifted slightly. Then he gave Peter a small, uncertain smile—the kind you gave someone whose name you couldn’t remember but were fairly sure you were supposed to know…
It stung.
Peter had spent so long telling himself that staying away was noble. Safer. That loving people from a distance counted as protecting them.
Maybe sometimes it did.
But sometimes…
Sometimes staying away was just staying away. Sometimes loneliness wasn’t sacrifice. Sometimes it was just…loneliness. And most days, that stung worse.
But being forgotten didn’t mean he had to disappear. He needed to follow his own advice he’d given to Jean in earnest.
Just—
Try.
Say Hi.
Peter tightened his grip on the flowers, and he walked toward Ned. Every step felt ridiculously off-balance, as if he was walking on a tightrope and not chipped-away ceramic tile. Trapezing across roof ledges felt less daunting than this—
Ned’s posture straightened imperceptibly.
Peter stopped beside the table. “Uh..Hey.”
Excellent.
Great start.
Yelena would be recruiting Peter into the Avengers 2.0 for sure—
Ned looked up at him with that half-dimpled twitch of a smile he always got when he found something deeply amusing but not quite socially acceptable to laugh at.
“Hey…”
“Uh—So—” This sucked.
Ned’s mouth twitched again.
Peter could tell the laugh was being actively repressed now.
“I remember you!” Ned snapped his fingers.
Peter’s heart stopped.
“From our housewarming party!”
Oh.
Right. Right.
“...Yeah.” Peter coughed, a completely unnecessary cough, and dragged a hand through his curls. “You showed me your app—”
Ned laughed. “Spidey Tracker.”
Peter smiled despite himself. “Yeah. Yeah, which is still, like, a totally normal side hobby, by the way—”
Ned snorted and lowered his laptop halfway. “Wow. Okay, you tell that to my 4.8-star Google rating—”
The moment hit Peter harder than it should have. Ned was making room for him. Just because some weird guy from a party had walked over and said hello. Not because he remembered him. Not because Peter was his best friend.
Peter gripped the flowers even tighter.
“So, uh…I actually wanted to—” Say hi? Introduce myself? Meet you?
Ned’s eyes flicked to the bouquet.
Peter followed his gaze.
There was a beat then Ned looked back up at Peter.
Something had changed in his expression, but Peter didn’t quite catch it because he was too focused on trying to make a good impression on his ex-best friend.
So instead, he pressed forward.
“I saw you sitting here, and I thought…”
I thought I should talk to you?
No. That sounded off. He needed a better reason.
“I mean, I was gonna—”
Peter gestured vaguely, still fumbling.
Ned’s eyebrows climbed.
“But then you were here and—”
Ned looked at the flowers again. Then at Peter. Then back at the flowers. “Oh? Uh..Wow, okay…! ”
Peter paused and frowned. “...Wow?”
“No, I just…” Ned leaned back in his chair. A slow smile spread across his face. It wasn’t his old smile.
Well—
It was.
But it was different? More confident? Less startled by itself?
It threw Peter completely for a loop, and all he could do for a moment was stare.
Ned rubbed his thumb slowly along the side of his coffee cup. “I mean… I’m flattered—”
Peter blinked.
What?
“What?”
Ned laughed under his breath. “Okay, so we’re playing coy now?”
Suddenly, acutely, Peter became aware that he had absolutely no idea what conversation they were having.
He decided to proceed cautiously. “I’m sorry…?”
“Don’t be.” Ned said, gesturing to the purple bouquet. “Those are nice.”
Peter looked down. “Oh.” I guess??? “Thank…you?”
Another pause.
Ned tilted his head.
Peter’s stomach sank.
He knew that head tilt.
It meant Ned had determined Peter was being denser than usual and was trying to figure out whether to intervene.
“...Were you going to give them to me?” Ned asked slowly, amused.
Peter’s brain briefly disconnected.
“Oh.”
Oh. Oh. Ohhhh.
Uh oh.
Oh no—
“...Ah! Um.” Ned’s confidence immediately faltered. Peter literally saw the lights dim from his eyes. “Sorry, I uh, I guess I got the wrong idea—?”
“No!”
Peter said it loudly enough that a couple people near the register turned around.
He lowered his voice. “No! Sorry, I just…”
He looked at the flowers.
Then at Ned.
Ned looked at the flowers.
Then at Peter.
And Peter finally—Finally—fully understood what was happening.
Oh, God.
Ned thought Peter had walked over here with flowers. For him.
Peter opened his mouth.
This was fixable.
Very fixable.
Incredibly fixable.
All Peter had to say was:
They’re for my aunt.
He could even explain that she had passed.
That might make things kinda awkward, but everything was already kinda awkward, and at least it would be accurate. Soften the blow—?
Ned was waiting.
“My—” Peter stopped.
Because Ned looked disappointed. Only a little. Barely anything. But Peter knew his face.
Every version of it.
And this one…this one had been flattered. Ned had thought someone brought him flowers, and for at least one second he had liked that idea.
Peter’s correction faded somewhere in his throat.
Ned waved a hand. “Seriously dude, don’t worry about it. I totally misread—”
“No! No you didn’t-!”
Ned stopped. And Peter Parker, superhero, genius, part-time photographer, survivor of several alien invasions, internally glitched.
His eyes dropped to the flowers.
May, Peter thought. I’m sorry. You would’ve hated these expensive ones anyway—
“... They’re for you!”
The words came out, once again, much louder than Peter intended.
Ned stared at him.
Behind them, the espresso machine hissed with impeccable comedic timing.
He then shoved the bouquet forward into Ned’s arms before his spidey senses could intervene.
Ned looked down at the chrysanthemums, visibly trying not to smile too hard.
Peter Parker had officially lost control of the situation.
“I uh…I figured you’d like the purple ones- I mean, you know, I figured, you know, you seem to wear… a lot…of purple…” Peter gestured uselessly at Ned’s sweater.
Nice save, Parker.
Ned chuckled, glancing down at the violet yarn of his sweater.
“Good eye.”
Peter rubbed the back of his neck. He had no idea why his face suddenly felt hot.
Ned adjusted the flowers in his lap, still smiling at them in a way that made Peter’s chest do something odd and new and uncomfortable.
“Do you want to get dinner with me?” Peter blurted to distract himself.
Ned’s smile flickered by half an inch.
“Or coffee. Or, like, literally anything less formal if dinner is too much-”
“Dinner’s good. Dinner’s great!” Ned did his head-tilt again. “Should I give you my number then...?”
Peter pulled his phone from his pocket and nearly dropped it, before handing it over.
“Nice reflexes.” Ned chuckled before entering his contact information.
Peter watched his name appear on the screen.
Ned Leeds.
That stung too.
He used to have an entire message history under that name. Years of it.
Bad memes. Homework answers. Panicked Spider-Man updates. Pictures of Lego sets. Messages at two in the morning asking whether Peter was alive.
Now there was nothing. He’d deleted all of it a year ago—
Ned handed the phone back.
“There! Wanna text me so I have yours?”
Peter did.
Ned’s phone buzzed beside his coffee.
He glanced down.
“Ah? Peter? So not Maynard.” Ned’s tone was teasing, but the way he said Peter’s name…casual and new, like he was trying the name out…
Peter forced himself to laugh.
“Yeah, haha. Sorry, I guess I was…nervous to talk to you that night.” Well, that’s not entirely a lie.
Ned picked up the flowers with a grin. “So…Saturday?”
Peter’s brain took a second to catch up. “Saturday.” He breathed out.
-
The bell over the café door jingled behind Peter when he eventually left in a feverish haze.
Queens moved around him as if nothing had happened. Cars rolled through the intersection. Someone cussed out a cyclist. A dog barked from somewhere across the street.
Peter walked along the sidewalk, utterly dazed.
His brain, apparently tired of protecting him, finally supplied the obvious conclusion.
I have a date with Ned.
He nearly walked into a lamppost.
-