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how to woo your own spiderman. (alternatively: the adventures of flash thompson, the idiot.)

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It’s definitely not the smartest idea Flash has had, but he’s never really been known for his smart ideas and he knows it. Regardless, it seems to work out, if not in the fashion he was hoping.

Which is how he’s in the current situation.

Also which. How is this his life?

And also. What happened to creativity?

Because, he’s in the middle of a warehouse, tied to a chair with rope, and these idiots aren’t even wearing masks, and he would probably be concerned if he wasn’t ninety-five percent certain he could break through the rope with sheer force, not to mention the knots are about as basic as they come, as in, not made to stand up to a one hundred and seventy something pound male putting force against them.

Especially when most of that one hundred and seventy something pounds is muscle.

Not that Flash is bragging or anything.

He’s a bit tied up. Which, heh, tied up.

A slow grin curls at his lips because of the pun, no matter how ridiculous it is. Gotta maintain humor when you’re tied to a chair with three idiots surrounding you. They don’t even have guns, just baseball bats. They’re aluminum though and Flash has taken one of those to the head before and doesn’t feel particularly inclined to experiencing that again.

One of the guys, he’s taken to calling this one Curly, because of his hair, seems to notice his grin and points the bat at him, “Something amusing to you about this?”

Flash purses his lips, considers his options, before deciding the hell with it, before nodding, “I find everything about this amusing,” he states finally, setting his jaw defiantly.

One of the others, Baldie, because once more of his hair...or lack there of, snorts and actually jabs the end of his bat into Flash’s chest, “Won’t find it so amusing when I bust your head open all over the floor.”

The last guy, seemingly the smart one, so Flash has yet to give him a ridiculous name yet, grabs Baldie’s arm, “Don’t damage the merchandise, don’t see that going over well,” he mutters and is watching Flash critically.

“Merchandise?” He mouths and ducks his chin to his chest and squirms a bit, the ropes already loosening.

Curly grins and swings his bat up onto his shoulder, “Word on the street is that you’re pretty important to the Spider,” he says, like it’s obvious and Baldie reaches over and shoves him in the shoulder, muttering for him to shut his trap.

Flash barks out a laugh before he can stop himself. Like really? This was their plan? He can already see how many ways this is not going to work out for the trio of idiots. Maybe they should’ve done more research. “He’s not going to come here just for me, you know?”

“Doubting your worth again, I see,” and Flash swears softly, because seriously, Parker?

Grinning, Baldie moves and rests the side of his bat across the side of his head, “Come out or I’m going to splatter his brains,” and Flash snorts softly and spots Par - Spider-man, up in the corner and winks in his direction.

The smart one’s head whips in his direction and Spider-man’s head tips to the side, considering, “Now, now, now, lets not be hasty,” Spider-man says finally, “He may not have the best brains out there, but I’d hate for them to go to waste.”

Flash gapes, because really? And briefly reconsiders his desire to kiss Spider-man when this is over. He doesn’t have much more time to consider it because there’s bits of web flying into Baldie’s face and Flash reacts then, pushing against the rope until it comes loose.

The other two are moving towards him but thrusts his elbow back into Baldie’s solar plexus and takes his bat. He sends a brief thanks for the fact that he’s played baseball since he was eight as he swings that bat onto his shoulder, swinging out when Curly comes at him, wincing at the crunch that’s definitely his nose breaking, made obvious by the blood that gushes out.

He winces a bit and looks over to the smart one to find that he’s already been taken care of, web plastering his hands to his sides.

Sirens blare in the distance and Flash jumps because Spider-man is suddenly right in front of him, wiggling a gloved hand in his face. Rolling his eyes, Flash bats at his hand before blowing out a breath. His ribs are finally letting him know that he was hit there and it doesn’t help when Spider-man - Parker - Peter - slings an arm around him and they’re moving.

As if Flash didn’t hate this already, it’s made worse by the pain of his ribs, probably bruised. He hisses and it’s obvious it’s heard because they stop on a roof across from the warehouse and before Flash even really registers it, gloved hands are pushing up the hem of his shirt.

He fits his hands around Peter’s wrists and pulls them away, “Stop it, I’m fine.”

Peter snorts under his mask and peals up the end of it up so it’s sitting just above his nose. It looks ridiculous and Flash snickers, but Peter’s mouth is set in this thin line that makes him sober up. “Seriously, stop freaking out, I’m fine,” he tries again, squeezing Peter’s wrists gently.

“Those guys were idiots, didn’t have a clue what they were getting into, I’m just a little banged up but otherwise, I’m fine,” Flash adds then and finds it ridiculous that he’s on a roof with Spider-man, his mask shoved up to reveal part of Peter Parker, and Spider-man is the one worried about him.

Spider-man who he’s seen flung from buildings, had guns fired at him, almost got arrested, fought a giant mutant lizard man.

It feels kind of nice actually, when he puts it into that sort of perspective.

He should probably - definitely - feel bad about that, but hey, that was part of his plan. Even if it did end up with him being kidnapped by idiots and tied to a chair in the middle of an empty warehouse.

His ribs are going to twinge for a while, but it worked, he has Spider-man’s - Peter’s - full, undivided attention finally.

Really, it shouldn’t be that difficult to get some alone time with his friend...boyfriend? Whatever it is they are.

But, apparently, that’s his life now.

“They took you because of me,” Peter states and Flash knows if he could see Peter’s eyes, there’d be that lost, dejected look, like from when he lost his Uncle Ben. And well, that won’t do.

Flash grabs Peter’s jaw and resists the urge to pull his mask the rest of the way off, because, really, he can never figure out which part of the lenses to look at. It’s like talking to someone with a lazy eye. Anyways, he digresses. “They took me because I have this habit of getting into trouble and Spider-man has a habit for getting me out of it,” then, “People are starting to think you’re sweet on me,” and wiggles his eyebrows.

Peter snorts, but despite his mask obscuring most of his face, Flash can still see the flush spreading over his cheeks, “Awfully arrogant considering I just saved your life.”

It’s Flash’s turn to snort, finally moving his hand to curl it around the back of Peter’s neck, drawing him into a hard kiss, already licking into his mouth. He waits until Peter starts to melt into it before pulling back, “I think I have a good reason to be arrogant.”

“That’s cheating,” Peter replies, half hearted, before he pulls his mask down, “Come on, we’re taking you home.”

Flash wiggles his eyebrows again, “Yours or mine.”

Peter’s response is to grab him and fling them both off the side of the building, shooting out web at what seems like the last possible second. The asshole.

Flash clearly needs a new best friend.


They end up at Peter’s house anyways, going in through Peter’s bedroom window and Flash pretends not to ogle as Peter changes. And, who could blame him? And there’s no one that can blame him for crowding Peter back into the wall, before he’s even managed to get his shirt on, and kissing him, deep and filthy until Peter is panting when he pulls back, lips red and swollen.

Yeah, Flash could definitely get used to this. Especially when Peter’s hands fit under his shirt, and it takes him a few seconds to realize what Peter’s up to.

“You know if you wanted an excuse to feel me up, you could’ve asked,” he quips lightly before sighing when Peter glowers at him and drops his hands to the hem of his shirt and drags it up and off, tossing it on Peter’s bed.

His ribs are mottled purples and blues and definitely looks worse than it feels, though Flash figures it’ll feel worse in the morning. Peter makes a soft sound that Flash takes as him blaming himself so he wraps his arms around Peter and drags him in, “I’m fine,” he mumbles softly, “I’ve gotten worse from practice.”

Peter slumps against him, but Flash can still feel the tension in him.

He’s wound tight, tense like Hawkeye’s bow.

Flash needs to stay away from the Avengers footage.

He also clearly needs to think about his thing for superheroes. It’s becoming a Problem.

Either way, it feels like Peter’s about to snap under his hands so he tugs Peter towards the bed and maneuvers him to lay on his stomach and straddles him, “You need to relax, Parker,” he murmurs softly and ducks down to press his lips to the back of Peter’s neck.

He splays his hands on Peter’s shoulders, feels the muscles tense under his hands before he starts to dig his thumbs in. Peter hisses below him and he leans down to kiss Peter’s back in apology but doesn’t let up.

It doesn’t take long before the pressure is enough and the knots loosen under his thumbs and Peter’s shoulders relax, so he works his way down, until Peter is loose and pliant and practically moaning under his touch.

It’s a heady sort of power and he lifts up enough for Peter to flip under him and they’re leaning in to meet each other in a deep kiss. And it isn’t long before he finds himself on his back, staring up at Peter, whose lips are swollen, spots of color high on his cheeks, and pupils blown wide.

“Never thought we’d end up here,” Peter mutters before he’s ducking back in for another kiss, this one sweeter, more chaste. And then Peter is slumping down against his chest, so Flash wraps his arms around him, splaying a hand wide over Peter’s lower back, the other gently running through Peter’s hair.

“To be cliche, if someone had ever told me we would be, I probably would’ve decked them,” Flash replies honestly, if not a little self deprecating. And if that isn’t a way to kill the mood...

Peter lifts his head, stares at him as if he’s assessing him, assessing his tone before he sighs and scrambles up a little higher, practically bent in half to press their foreheads together, “No, you can’t do that,” he states and Flash blinks at him, “It doesn’t matter what things were like, you can’t change that, it’s in stone,” he adds, a furrow forming between his eyebrows.

Releasing a heavy sigh, Flash brings a hand up, cupping it over Peter’s jaw, “It’s hard not to, though, hard not to think of what things were like, how I treated you and everyone else,” he replies, voice soft. He doesn’t want to argue, just cups his other hand around Peter’s neck and draws him into another kiss.

Flash isn’t deluded, was never deluded. He knew where he stood in the high school hierarchy.

Top rank bully and everyone knew it, so sure, sometimes he hates himself a little for what he was like and that’s something he has Peter to thank for. Well, not for the hating himself bit, but for bringing it to his attention in a way that he couldn’t ignore.

He had just been anger and rage and - Hulk - which, maybe it was understandable but it wasn’t excusable. Peter had asked him once, why he had never told a teacher about what happened at his home and...well, he didn’t really have an answer. Maybe it was because his dad was the only family he had anymore. His mom skipped off not long after his fifth birthday and his brother enlisted the second he was able to.

No one ever looked back for Flash, came back for him. It had been Flash against the world for so long and sometimes it still was, sometimes he just couldn’t get himself out of that mindset, especially after a night at home with his father.

He pushes the thoughts away. Nothing’s more of a mood killer than thoughts of his father and the stench of alcohol.

When they break the kiss, Peter smiles down at him, sort of dopey and happy, and it makes Flash’s chest feel tight in a way that he isn’t sure he likes but if it means Peter’s smiling like that at him and only him, he’s okay with it.

“You should stay here tonight,” Peter tells him softly, settling back down into his chest, tucking his head into the crook of Flash’s neck.

He’s more like an octopus than a spider.

Which Doc Ock.

Which no.

Flash hums, “As long as you promise to feed me.”

Peter snickers and pinches his side, closer to his hip than his ribs.


There’s an alarm blaring, shattering the spectacular dream Flash was having, so he reaches out for his bedside table to stop it, but there’s nothing there. He registers the body half on top of him a few seconds later and remembers he’s at Peter’s.

And because he’s so kind, he nudges Peter awake to shut the damn thing off.

Peter grumbles, glares at him, but it’s completely lost on the fact that his hair is sticking up in all directions and there’s red crease marks on his cheek from his pillow.

Once the alarm is off, Flash pulls Peter back to him, until they’re touching, shoulders to chest to hips. He’s starting to doze again, just barely on the edge of sleep when Peter shifts and he has no idea of it’s intentional but Flash’s eyes fly open, a soft groan startled out of him.

Peter has his lip trapped between his teeth, arms braced on either side of Flash’s head, eyes focused intently between them. His face is flushed, just a bit, until he rocks his hips and the color spreads a little more, especially when his eyes flick up to meet Flash’s.

“Mornin’,” he says, voice sleep rough and Peter nods and ducks down to kiss him. It’s sloppy and a little off center and, eugh morning breath, but it’s definitely one of those things Flash will never mind waking up to.

Peter has just licked into his mouth when he rocks his hips again, bolder this time, and Flash bites back any sound, his hands moving to settle low on Peter’s hips.

And then Peter’s aunt knocks on the door, and they’re both groaning for an entirely different reason, Peter slumping down against his chest.

“After school,” Flash murmurs softly to the top of Peter’s head, “Suggesting no one tries to kidnap me or like...break New York again.”

Peter doesn’t even lift his head, just nods.


And, of course, after school, Flash is in detention for punching some idiot kid who said Spider-man was a useless joke. And, Peter is, well, Peter is in Manhattan where someone is trying to break New York.

He knew he shouldn’t have jinxed them, and how is this his life?