Saving The Lost: Spider-Man

Part 2/3

It was halfway through the night, when Flash had gone back to check on Peter. He thought the door woke him up at first, but when he called out his name in a hushed tone, there was no response. His breathing was more labored though, he could tell, and approached cautiously, trying to see if he was alright. The dim light on the nightstand was enough to highlight the droplets of sweat on his forehead.

Maybe he was sick? Flash wasn't sure until he started mumbling incoherently, eyebrows knitted together. Definitely a nightmare. He debated just letting him get more sleep after that much exertion from crying, uncomfortable or not. But, he hated seeing him so... stressed. He had seemed so peaceful before, lips slightly parted and face relaxed- despite the redness from crying. Pretty, even.

"No- no, please," he muttered under his breath. Flash decided it was time to wake him up and save him from this nightmare. He gently nudged Peter's shoulder. Nothing; he was still tossing and turning and mumbling pleas.

"Peter!" Flash shook him this time, "Please wake up."

Bad idea. terrible one even.

Peter definitely woke up, and with the force of what felt like two anvils, he sprung up and threw Flash off the bed and onto the floor, pinning him down and winding up a punch, eyes wide and crazed. But, he stopped his fist when he realized this wasn't an enemy, this wasn't some green goblin. This was Flash, who looked equally as horrified. The guy's wrists were still pinned down behind his head with one of Peter's hands, an impossible grip that Flash tried to wriggle out of... to no avail.

"Peter! It's me, it's me, it's Flash. Jesus fuck!" Peter's big brown eyes looked so scared now, all the anger in them had left.

He jumped off from atop him and covered his face in shame before wiping some sweat off his forehead. He'd curled himself into a knee hugging position against the side of the bed. "I'm sorry, god I'm sorry. I just- it was a bad dream. I.. well, more of a memory. I'm so sorry," his voice was so frail it made Flash's heart shatter into a million pieces.

I'm such a fucking idiot, he thought to himself. "It's my fault for shaking the guy with PTSD out of a nightmare. Do.. uh," he regained his composure and sat up, "do you want to talk about it?" He still looked scared, but at least he knew Peter hadn't completely gone insane. And, if he was being honest, the sudden position gave him a strange adrenaline rush, one he wasn't entirely mad about, but he pushed the thought out as soon as it came in.

Peter's voice was still in a whisper, "I'll explain everything, but my head is pounding in pain so much I'm gonna throw up and my body feels terrible in this tight fucking suit and I- I just... want all of it to stop so bad. I don't have the energy to get up, I...I haven't slept in days to be honest. Haven't eaten much."

Flash just grabbed the water and the ibuprofen and handed it to him without a word. "Thanks," he whispered. Thompson nodded shakily.

"How do you take off the suit? Do you have like, a zipper, or?" He was searching around and Peter let out a hoarse chuckle at the effort. He took Flash's shaking hand and made him press the emblem then slide it down, depressurizing the self sealing suit and causing it to slink off his chest and shoulders. "Oh. Cool." He was so momentarily distracted he forgot that Peter mentioned nausea. He quickly ran and grabbed a small trash can from his room.

"Don't worry, I'm.. not actually gonna vomit. I promise," He gave a small pained smile.

"Thank God, cause I can't do vomit. Like, I will too if you do and I'll hate you forever." After some awkward silence, Flash broke his stare and handed him a spare hoodie and some sweatpants that he'd left on the foot of the bed earlier. He couldn't help but stare. His body had drastically changed since the last time he'd ever gotten a look at his physique in gym freshman year of highschool. That and... all the scars. Everywhere. It was like a reality punch to the gut with what Spider-Manning does, and all.

After a shower, and an awkward sit down of silence for what felt like eternity, Peter decided it was time to spill his guts about as much as he could. He talked about how Mysterio had set him up, how The Bugle revealed him as the true spider-menace, and how he couldn't take the ridicule. So, he had Doctor Strange cast a spell, but of course, it all had to go wrong. He went on about the alternate hims and enemies colliding into a conglomerate mess in their own New York. He skipped the details of Aunt May, and Flash stayed composed, hanging onto every word from his favorite super hero until the sun started to come up. And of course, finished it off with explaining how the world had to forget him.

And that left them both wondering. Flash spoke the obvious, "So, why do I still remember?"

"I wish I knew." throughout their long talk they had gotten more comfortable, and laid next to each other on the bed, staring at the vaulted ceiling. Peter sighed and turned to face him. Well, more so to hug him again. "But I'm thankful. So honestly, I'll take it without question for now."

"Sounds good to me," Flash hummed. "You know... I still feel bad about everything I put you through. I know I was a dick. I wish I could just slap myself back then, you know?"

"Yeah. Me too," Peter retorted. The two laughed. Flash didn't know he could be so happy to hear someone laugh again.

"It was all out of jealousy to be honest. I really envied you. I wished I could have a genuine friend like Ned. All I had was a group of assholes to stroke each other's egos. I wanted a loving aunt to come back to, but, well, when my dad was home from business... he wasn't the nicest guy to be around," He lifted up his arm so Peter could see the large scar running down his forearm. Peter held it to get a closer look, running his thumb across it.

"Wish you would've talked to me then, I could've beat his ass to the moon and back for you." Flash chuckled at that. "What happened? If you don't mind me.. Asking?"

"Flying beer bottle. Nothing like the battle scars you got."

"Mm," Peter frowned and put his arm down, "I'm sorry."

"It's alright, I'm on my own now and so's my sister. Got this nice ass place and have a full ride scholarship to the college of my dreams. I'd say I'm doing pretty good without him."

"I'd say. It is a pretty nice ass apartment for New York. No leaky pipes, unknown stains, or rats in the walls? I'd say you're ballin'."

Flash snorted. "I never expected 'ballin'' to be in your vernacular."

"Shh, you're saying big words, brain's too mushy for that," Peter whined and Flash couldn't help but laugh again. Damn, I really did miss out being friends with the hottest superhero at school, didn't I? All to suppress my old stupid crush and self-esteem issues. Crush? Shit. Yeah, that's not going away now. They were looking each other in the eyes now, unmoving. Shit. Flash could see every freckle, the little scar underneath Peter's eyebrow, the light hitting his eyes, and every detail of his perfectly sculpted face. He felt heat rising up his neck.

"Peter?" he whispered.

"Yeah?" he tilted his head a bit and made that face. That stupid curious and interested face that lit up Flash's world.

"Can I kiss you?"