One Shots [Closed]

I'm Half Doomed and You're Semi-Sweet.

"Fuck." Luke hissed to himself as he landed on the balcony of the apartment. He glanced down at the large, gaping wound that had torn through his so called 'spidey-suit'. All in a day's work of getting his ass beat around in the middle of the city by something new every day.

He pushed the window open and climbed inside, one hand clutching the gash that was now seeping blood. He landed with a thud on the wooden floors and made his way to the kitchen, in seek of some medical supplies. It definitely wasn't easy. He was only eighteen years old, for Christ sakes. He was supposed to be studying science in college, not working part-time at a music store and trying to save the city in the rest of his time. On the way he stopped by a mirror that hung on the wall and lifted up his mask. He had dark circles under his eyes from sleep deprivation and his lip-piercing was digging into his skin. He sighed, pulling it out, and then yanking the mask back over his face. He didn't want to look at that.

"Holy shit." He heard a voice mutter behind him.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

How had he been so stupid as to forget that Ashton was probably home? He stared at his roommate through the mask, not saying a word. He didn't need to really.

"Sp-Spiderman? What are you doing in my apartment?" the older boy stuttered, a look of confusion on his face. Luke was surprised he wasn't freaking out, if he was honest. He knew that Ashton was quite literally obsessed with his secret alter-ego, and was harboring an enormous crush on him. Luke had been fighting with himself for months about whether or not to tell him, but decided to let it remain a secret. It was amazing to watch his friend fangirl over someone he knew very well.

Ashton's eyes darted down to his chest and let out a small gasp.

"Shit, uh, that looks really bad." He sympathized, stepping forward a little, causing Luke to take a step back. "Hey, come on, let me help you." Ashton said softly, edging closer, until he was right up against him. Luke was an inch or two taller than him, and Ashton pressed a gentle hand where the wound was. A pain seared through his body and he hissed, jumping back.

"Come on, lie on the couch, I'll clean you up." Ashton gestured to the living room, and Luke could do nothing but obey, realizing that speaking wasn't the best thing to do.

Several minutes later, he was lying face-up on the couch, Ashton perched on the arm-rest, by his head, hovering over him and tending to his cuts with a warm cloth.

He had refused to take of the suit, but had agreed to let Ashton cut the chest part open with scissors, figuring that it could always be repaired when he wasn't nearly bleeding out.

When Ashton pressed the cloth down a little harder than before, Luke let out a small 'ow' and the older boy let out a chuckle. He leaned over to look at him in the... well, mask. He looked especially soft and sleepy right now, natural curly hair sticking out in tufts, and large-rimmed glasses on. Luke had only seen him like this once or twice. He liked the oversized sweater-look on his best friend.

"Oh, come on, don't be such a baby." Ashton teased, deep dimples perturbing his smile. Luke couldn't help but let out a small laugh himself before he could stop himself.

"I'm actually quite a big fan, to be honest." Ashton admitted, a sheepish smile on his upside-down face.

He went back to mopping up the wound. "So, how come you're being so quiet?" He asked, not taking his eyes from Luke's chest.

Luke felt the weight lift off of the arm-rest behind him, and saw Ashton walk around in front of him. He scooched farther into the back of the couch, and the boy in the large maroon sweater perched beside him.