newyorknative | Yes I want you, and that’s the way it is

Entry tags:

fiyero tigelaar : winkieprince

Yes I want you, and that’s the way it is

[ aka wicked ii: lost in new york ]

"S'good. Mmm... So good." Peter confirms, his voice breathy and distracted. He clutches at Fiyero, making pleased noises when Fiyero grabs onto him in return, hands groping his backside and helping him with his clumsy attempts at leverage. There's nothing particularly smooth about the way Peter is humping forward, moaning shamelessly in Fiyero's ear - and maybe that makes it hotter, knowing that Peter's doing it because it feels good, because he can't help himself, and not in some attempt to perform. Fiyero certainly seems to like it, with the noises of assent he's making, encouraging Peter along - even if he's not actively benefiting, his own physical pleasure already spent.

One hand finds it's way into Fiyero's hair, tugging his head to the side casually. Peter's careful enough not to hurt him, but his grip is strong, keeping Fiyero there. He nuzzles against the exposed side of Fiyero's neck, already ruined with his marks. His hips speed up a fraction - Peter's not going to last long like this, not so soon. It's like he barely even stopped, too worked up to handle it or hell, actively think about it long enough to control himself. His cock is already flush again, hard and present against Fiyero's skin, marking him. Claiming him, pre-ejaculate and the remains of Fiyero's saliva easing the way, dribbling from the head as Peter writhes and rubs himself against Fiyero. There's a feral edge to it; something animal, deeper, beyond words.

Peter won't be able to recognize it now, but he'll probably blush when he admits it had nothing to do with Fiyero's powers. No... this was all him. All them, together. No outside influence necessary.

"Fi - yero..." Peter drags out his name in a long, keening whine, his other hand gripping Fiyero's side, sliding down to his thigh. Hips buck, once, twice, and on the third thrust Peter comes, shuddering against Fiyero and spilling all over his hip and thigh. He bites down on Fiyero's shoulder, over a red mark he left earlier - not hard, but definitely on purpose. Proprietorial, clutching at Fiyero as he orgasms.

When it's over, every ounce of tension leaves Peter's body, and he slumps down on top of Fiyero's chest. He could fall asleep right there and be happy, spent and comfortable, basking in Fiyero's presence. Still, Peter opens his eyes blearily, finding the wherewithal to peek his head up out of Fiyero's neck and look at him, pupils blown with arousal. "...was good?"

Edited (gratuitous cock addition) 2026-01-06 00:51 (UTC)

It is rather ridiculously hot, and Fiyero is taking it in gleefully. There's something about the clumsiness, yes, about the carelessness. Like he's lost all self-consciousness in pursuit of pleasure, and the fact that it's Fiyero who's gotten him to this point. This would also be hot if the roles had been more flipped, if Fiyero was tied up and Peter was just rubbing himself against him like this. Maybe it's the way Peter grips his hair, moving Fiyero's head where he likes it, that makes Fiyero think this.

Fiyero gives a soft moan of happiness, squeezing Peter's ass in return, another encouragement. Fiyero bucks his hips upwards, almost intentionally not matching up Peter's rhythm, making some of the grinding more intense. Peter's cock hasn't even really had a chance to go soft, Peter giving himself only just enough of a break to not overstimulate himself, it seems like.

"That's it, Peter.. My Peter.." Fiyero answers when Peter whines his name, tugging against Peter's hand in his hair so he can try to watch him. He can feel the rhythmic way Peter's ass tightens, and staying tight as he comes. "Yes, Peter, come for me.." Fiyero almost whines in return, and if it's a performance, well, it feels almost instinctive. Like his body just wants to make it sound like he's coming too, to intensify Peter's orgasm, not intentionally but just from connecting with each other.

He lets out a whimper at the bite, that one a real reaction. It doesn't really hurt, but it does send a thrill through him. And then Peter slumps, and Fiyero stills too, catching his breath.

His hands loosen, one moving back up to Peter's back, caressing it, petting like rewarding him for a job well done, his fingers gently scritching Peter's scalp. The look Peter gives him as he lifts his head makes Fiyero's heart squeeze in a wonderful way.

"The best. Thank you, darling," he answers. Peter's not holding his head back now, so Fiyero leans in, awkwardly bending his neck to press a soft kiss to Peter's lips. They could probably both pass out right here, but now there is a come smeared out between his hip and his stomach, so they should probably go take a bath - and Peter finally should get something to drink and eat.

"Do me another favour, baby, grab one of those glasses on the nightstand and drink it for me," he says, figuring he might take advantage of Peter being fine with following orders to make Fiyero happen. He's a little trapped right now after all, and it's way easier for Peter to do it for himself.

Peter hums pleasantly at the hand Fiyero brushes against his back, soaking up the praise like a sponge. It feels decadent, to be able to indulge in physical pleasure like this and have it amplified by the warm bloom of affection that follows afterwards. That's what he's chasing, the way Fiyero whines his name, bumping and grinding and holding him. The whimper, too, when Peter bites him - it scratches some lizard itch in the back of his mind, the one that says yes, mine. Maybe that's part of why they complement each other so well in bed; the ability to switch, to mix and match with which role they're taking on, for whatever combination brings them both the most joy in the moment.

...at least Peter didn't get any mess on the bed? All the care Fiyero took to keep the sheets as clean as they could be wasn't in vain. He smiles lazily, leaning in to kiss Fiyero back sweetly. His fingers brush through Fiyero's hair fondly, if clumsily - still off balance from everything that's happened - but no longer restrictive.

There's a brief pause where Peter looks adorably conflicted; he wants to follow Fiyero's instructions, but he also wants to stay right there and snuggle. Of course, the desire to please wins out over what he might want, and Peter shimmies and reaches over to pick up the glass. It's only his sticky fingers that keep it from tipping over, but it makes it to his mouth and he drains it, head tipping back, hair mussed every which way.

It feels good, once he's drinking it; like he hadn't even realized how parched he was until he did. Halfway through, Peter closes glassy eyes, relishing the rest of the water. He seems to realize what he's done belatedly, setting the glass back down on the nightstand - nearly sending the other one flying - but he manages to snag the second without spillage incident, drawing it back over to the bed. "D'you want...?"

Somehow, Peter hasn't quite clocked that he'll have to move for Fiyero to be able to sit up and drink, but as per usual, he's committed to fussing over Fiyero's comfort, too.

Fiyero tries not to laugh at the conflicted look on Peter's face, so very cute. He smiles dopily, looking up at his boyfriend with deep affection, just so grateful to be spending this time with him. He watches with satisfaction as Peter obeys, and yes, he was obviously thirsty.

"Not yet. You drink as much as you want first, please," Fiyero answers, smiling warmly, though he's telling Peter as an obvious direction, not a suggestion. He'll take advantage of Peter wanting to please to make him take care of himself.

Fiyero is definitely thirsty, but it's just not a priority - also because he was mildly worried about how he was going to manage that, with Peter still on top of him, holding the glass. Recipe for disaster. He waits until Peter has set the glass down before anything else.

"Alright. Time to get up," he says with a playful lilt, reaching down to give Peter's ass a couple of cheeky light slaps to get him to move. He's pleasantly tired and his mind a little bit fuzzy, but at least his balance still holds up, once they both get to their feet.

Fiyero leans down for the towel, picking it up and just wiping them down very quickly, just getting rid of the worst, before he hands the towel to Peter.

"Alright, baby. Go put that in the laundry. Use the toilet if you need to. And turn on the hot water in the shower, and I'll join you there in just a minute," Fiyero instructs clearly, making sure Peter's brain is absorbing the steps involved. They're not many, and they're all bathroom related, so it should be easy enough. "And then as a reward, we can snuggle up and relax for as long as want," he adds, giving Peter a kiss.

He assumes Peter won't very much like the idea of separating even briefly, so making sure he knows there will be plenty of cuddles when they've done that will probably help soothe any disapproval related to clinginess. Fiyero finds himself reluctant to let go of Peter too, but it's not for long.

In the meantime, Fiyero is going to drink some water too, and then grab as much fruit and snack bars or whatever he can find to steadily feed Peter while they relax together. And himself too, probably, but that's nowhere near as urgent.

Peter eyes Fiyero for a second before he obediently drinks the second glass, slower than the first, but still draining it. He could probably drink two more without issue, replenishing all the fluids he's been losing for the past... he's not even sure how long it's been, too caught up in Fiyero and being tied up. He makes a dissident noise at the idea of having to get up, but manages to sit up and plant his feet on the floor, letting Fiyero get up. Taking a nap right now sounds sublime.

It makes sense that's the carrot, then - snuggles and relaxation - though Fiyero hardly needs one when Peter is willing to listen to just about anything he wants anyway. Peter accepts the towel and the kiss, blinking placidly before he nods his understanding. He wobbles a little on his way to the restroom, legs unsteady after so much time lashed together in one position, but manages to stay upright with only one shoulder bump against the doorframe to the bathroom.

At least there's no crashing sound from inside, and the water starts without incident. It's the little things.

Peter does his business, catching sight of himself in the mirror - and what a sight it is, really, covered in healing marks and Fiyero's scrawled crowns. He flushes lightly, examining the way they dot his torso, before looking down at the ones Fiyero left around his groin. Slightly more smeared, but still present on his skin. On the one hand, he likes it. He really, really likes it, fingers brushing one just under his collarbone, feeling warm at the idea that Fiyero put it there. On the other, he wonders - is it kind of fucked up that he likes it that much?

By the time Fiyero returns to him in the bathroom, he'll find Peter zoning out a bit, sitting on the toilet lid. The feelings have started to creep back in, both good and bad. It's hard to go from the heights of euphoria back down to a normal level - not even something bad, just baseline. Doubt, about whether or not he is normal. He's not, really. No one else could even have sex the way they're having it. Normal people probably didn't get a deep sense of satisfaction from sharpie marks.

But Fiyero said it was good, that he enjoyed it too, so that's probably okay? Or is that just because Peter's the only person he's ever been with, so he thinks that he likes it but really he'd like something else better -

Peter snaps back to reality when Fiyero enters the bathroom, jolting up to stand. The shower has sufficiently heated, as evidenced by the condensation collecting on the mirror. Right or wrong, Peter's just glad Fiyero is still there. Still happy, no trace of doubt in his smile. His presence makes everything a thousand times better, just in general.

The carrot isn't so much about getting Peter to agree, as it is to make him endure the not as enjoyable stuff that comes before that. To make sure Peter doesn't doubt that Fiyero still wants to be basically glued to his side for a long while longer.

Fiyero drinks almost a whole glass of water himself, before gathering up practically as many snacks as he can carry - oh, and Peter's phone. Fiyero has no idea how much time has passed either, but he does know that the sun has moved a lot while they've been busy. Peter said something about setting an alarm before they started, which they absolutely did not do, so they could probably do so before they fall asleep in the bath.

He's got his arms full when he walks into the bathroom, dumping all of it in the sink for lack of a better space. He's grateful for the bathtub, but this bathroom doesn't really have a lot of storage or counter tops or anything like that.

As soon as his hands are free, he gives Peter a brilliant smile and leans in to give him a soft kiss, a reward for waiting. Peter had looked quite zoned out when he walked in, and hopefully he's alright, but he seems at least very responsive to Fiyero's sweetness.

"Alright, come on," Fiyero says, taking Peter's hands and stepping over the side of the tub to get into the shower, helping Peter in after him, both of them steadying themselves on the other. Fiyero leans in and grabs a snack bar before pulling at the curtain, handing the wrapped food to Peter. "Eat this while I wash you?"

Usually Peter's appetite gets activated once he tastes something, so they'll no doubt rip through a lot of the food he brought before they get comfortable enough to nap. Fiyero is definitely going to have some himself, and then maybe once they cuddle up, he can feed Peter some things too.

"...in the shower?" Peter can't help but laugh a little, something unwinding in his shoulders as he accepts the protein bar from Fiyero, and the curtain draws shut behind them, obfuscating the rest of the bathroom with the distortion of the plastic. He really should get a different one, something with a bit more privacy - A) in case they both need to be in the bathroom at the same time, not so much for modesty but inevitable distraction; and B) so that when they're in here together, the vibes are less out-in-the-open.

The thoughts slide away as easily as they came when Peter tears open the bar, amused smile touching the corners of his mouth. "You're taking multi-tasking seriously..."

His voice doesn't have much evidence of the strain he was putting his throat through, after water and a brief respite. Just a hint of scratchiness that will probably be solved in a moment with food. It's kind of amazing how much Peter can put himself through and be fine a moment later - physically, anyway. He acquiesces to the instruction, chomping down on the snack; inhaling it a moment later. Fiyero was right; once he tasted it, it's like his body remembered he's starving. It's gone in three bites, Peter turning innocent brown eyes up to Fiyero as he chews through his mouthful, cheek slightly chipmunked with the food.

Fiyero smiles and shrugs as if to say, why not? As long as he's not washing his hair, it should be easy enough to keep it out of the water. He laughs softly at the joke about multitasking, as he sets about washing Peter.

Mostly it seems to be another excuse to be lovingly caressing Peter. He does grab some soap, but it's mostly just stroking his hands across Peter's body, almost giving him a brief massage as he's passing over his shoulders. The most literal definition of aftercare, a term Fiyero doesn't even really know yet, but could probably guess.

He laughs warmly when Peter looks at him with a puffed out cheek, leaning in to kiss his other cheek. "There's more in the sink. Help yourself," he encourages. He probably won't have to nudge Peter into eating more, judging by how quickly he chomped up that first one.

Fiyero seems to know exactly what he wants to do, which is clear away any residual stickiness and sweat with affectionate passes of his hands. Peter's mind isn't as singularly focused on obeying anymore - gradually coming out of that headspace as the haze eases back into reality - but it does leave him pleasantly blank. Not worrying (at least, not about his usual), not when he has his instruction (eat), and Fiyero quite obviously has a plan. He can trust him - he has trusted him. Everything's fine when they're together, and Peter doesn't have to feel like he needs to immediately herd the spread out cats that are currently making up his mind - Fiyero's got him, the same way Peter does, when the tables are turned.

Peter loops an arm around Fiyero's waist, though there's no option to be anything other than close when they're two grown men in his little apartment shower (their little apartment shower, at this point). The thought makes Peter smile to himself, even though some distant part of his mind is snorting and pointing out the Uhaul Lesbianism of it all. Are there Uhaul Gays? Is that a thing?

He's eaten three more protein bars before he zones back in, having been staring, somewhat dazed, at Fiyero while he washes him. Yeah, Peter's definitely going to need that nap to reset. He holds up the second half of his fourth bar sheepishly, offering to feed it to Fiyero. "Sorry, I'm..."

Peter doesn't really know how to explain it, but he thinks Fiyero probably already knows. In the short amount of time they've had together - both together and together - they've tried their hand at a lot of... ambitious activity.

Fiyero does have a plan, but it's pretty rudimentary compared to his earlier sex plans. He's enjoying taking his time just touching Peter, past the point where it's probably making much difference. Apart from rubbing a bit at where Peter just came all over him, he doesn't even bother with cleaning himself beyond just letting the hot water do the work.

He blinks as Peter offers him the bar, and smiles fondly at the apology. "It's okay. I'm enjoying myself," he reassures warmly, though he does lean down to take a bite out of the bar in Peter's hand. He hums and reaches down to plug the bottom of the tub, switching to the tap instead of the shower.

"Cuddling time?" he suggests, though he does have a look in the sink and - yeah, Peter hasn't quite eaten all of them yet. Fiyero brought a whole pile of things. He grabs one before sitting down in the tub.

"Wanna sit on my lap facing me?" he suggests, holding his hands out for Peter to join him. Mostly they've been spooning in the tub, but then they end up facing so they can kiss, so how about they just start out that way? Peter can just rest against Fiyero's chest and nuzzle up into his neck while they hold each other. And Peter's flexible enough that awkward angles really aren't a problem as they they themselves in close with each other.

The hands rubbing away lingering tension is nice - just basking in Fiyero's attention is wonderful. He means to offer Fiyero more; to finish the bar and free up his hands to return the favor, but Fiyero beats him to the punch and plugs the tub, letting the warm water start to fill the basin. And with an invitation like that? How is Peter supposed to resist?

He snags another couple bars and some fruit to take down with him as Peter joins Fiyero in sitting in the tub, setting it all out on the toilet lid. Yeah, not much space, but at least it's better than setting it on the lip of the tub and having it fall in the water. Peter takes Fiyero's hands, though he doesn't need them for balance, just because he wants to hold them, and folds himself into Fiyero's lap. Arranging limbs takes an extra moment, but with their combined flexibility, it doesn't prove to be an issue.

Peter picks up the fruit, an offering for them to share, and loops an arm around Fiyero's back as he sprawls against his chest. Cheek resting up against Fiyero's shoulder, it's surprisingly (or maybe not, given Peter's propensity to twist himself into small spaces) comfortable.

"That was fun," Peter says softly, lowering his gaze, mildly bashful. It's starting to sink in that he totally rolled over and humped Fiyero, to completion, like a dog in heat - not that his boyfriend seemed to mind. "...the webbing held."

Fiyero wouldn't mind a massage or something, of course not, but getting to snuggle up with Peter in a hot bath while they snack on fruit? That's already perfect. Especially now they might make it through one shower or bath visit without having sex in it. Fiyero is pleasantly sexed out.

And so is probably Peter too, judging by the way he zones out occasionally. In fairness to Fiyero offering his hands, Peter did hit the doorframe on his way in here, so who knows what his balance is like. Probably better now since he's gotten some food in him.

Fiyero grabs the box of grapes at Peter's offering, just so he can pick off one by one and feed it to Peter while he himself finishes the snack bar. Basically the picture of decadence, spoiling Peter as much as he'll allow. He wishes they could stay like this forever, inside their own little bubble, not worrying about the outside world.

He gives a happy, affirmative hum at Peter saying it was fun, giving the top of his head a kiss, nodding in agreement as he comments on the webbing, as he chews and finishes off his own snack, switching to feeding both of them grapes.

"It was more than fun, it was amazing," Fiyero points out, giving Peter a squeeze around the shoulders before grabbing another grape and pressing it to Peter's lips. Fiyero knows Peter enjoyed himself - he could hardly fake all of those reactions. But Peter may have been less aware of how Fiyero was doing, comparatively, so he wants to make sure Peter knows now. Fiyero loved it.

Granted, he's pretty tired now, mentally and to some extent physically, and it's not something he'll want to do every day. But every now and then? When they need to blow off some steam, and they've got the time for it? Absolutely, he'll gladly do that again.

But before he goes further down that train of thought, he jumps a little as he remembers - well, as much as he can jump with Peter curled on top of him. "Before I forget - You said something about setting an alarm?" he reminds Peter. "I put your phone up there too. Just so we don't fall asleep in the bath and stay here all night," he says, giving a soft laugh. It's honestly a considerable danger. Though depending on how much time they have, they may want an actual nap in bed too, after the water gets cold. Fiyero really has no idea what time it is.

They've properly exhausted themselves, that's for sure. What his body can keep up with and what his mind can are not necessarily the same, and it's good that they're not pushing past limits they didn't know were there. They're learning how to be together, how to take care of each other, and Peter won't deny he's becoming more and more at ease with that. It's a scary thing, getting this close to someone, knowing how easily it can all disappear... but with Fiyero, Peter just can't seem to help himself. It's hard to want to.

It's also just giving Peter more and more reason to protect this, them, at all costs. Not to say that he wouldn't help Fiyero, even if they weren't having sex - but now it's even more personal. Oscorp has taken so much, Peter will be damned if he allows them to take Fiyero, too. His fingers tighten infinitesimally on Fiyero's side as he allows the prince to feed him a grape, eyes crinkling at the corners when the smile reaches his eyes.

"Pretty tall praise," Peter teases, though it's hard for it to really be a tease when he looks so pleased by said praise. The tacit assurance that Fiyero was enjoying himself seems to loosen something in him, and Peter relaxes a little more against Fiyero's chest. "But you're right. Everything was just... amazing."

Not just tying him up, but the whole afternoon. Peter accepts the grape, then tilts his head to press gentle, reverent kisses up the line of Fiyero's throat. He's not trying to start anything - just expressing affection, nuzzling into the crook of Fiyero's neck as they settle there. "Thank you..."

But the reminder of the outside world does get Peter to lift his head, looking around for his phone. He reaches an arm up, levering himself up just enough to snag it on his fingertips, pulling it down to the both of them. It's evening now, of course - the clock says 7:45, the screensaver of the pair of them making him smile - and Peter quickly scrolls to set an alarm for midnight. "Thanks for reminding me. DD would be pissed if we bailed."

Peter almost sets the phone aside, but then decides to snap a picture - tilting his head up to press his lips to Fiyero's jaw, smiling against his skin. He sends the picture in a text to Fiyero's new number, then sets the phone aside, outside the tub, and relaxes again. He should probably prep Fiyero and - shit, give him some kind of disguise? Should they hide his face, from the other vigilantes? Would it be better for Daredevil and Hawkeye to be able to identify him, in a worst case scenario where he does get taken? Peter frowns to himself, trying to get his soupy brain to gather the options.

Fiyero's not sure he can even fully express how rewarding it was. Obviously it was physically enjoyable, and a lot of fun, and great to watch Peter lose himself like that. But it was more than that, too... Something about Peter trusting him, about making himself totally vulnerable, and then the accomplishment in feeling like he actually lived up to that trust. How he was capable of helping Peter get to that point, mentally and physically. And the intimacy of it... Not to mention how hot it was, despite being things that... Honestly, it would be difficult to explain the appeal of, even to himself.

He's also just glad their first serious foray into something like that didn't end up with either of them crying - not properly, not in a bad way. Just the emotional release, it seemed like, Fiyero's shoulder wet with Peter's tears at one point. But he was happy to continue, and that was before they'd reached a point where he seemed like he was so far deep he didn't even consider he had a choice. Eventually Peter gave the impression he had no other purpose in life than obey and please Fiyero - at least that's what it seemed like.

Which... was a bit scary. He's not sure he could explain that to Peter without it coming out wrong either. Because he wasn't scared exactly, and he doesn't want to give the impression he didn't enjoy himself. Certainly not right now, when they're both a bit emotionally raw and exhausted, and Peter might get insecure about it. Fiyero wants to build up Peter's self-confidence, as it seems to waver at times. He loves to see him blush, but he'd never want to embarrass him properly. He wants Peter to feel desirable. Because he most definitely is - whether he's insecure or totally confident, somehow, even if it seems like it would contradict itself, Peter is hot whether he's shy and flushed, or secure and in control. Another part of how they seem to flip their roles a lot.

He also doesn't want Peter to think he'd ever want to leave. Because it's becoming very rapidly clear that Fiyero wants to be with Peter for as long as he can. Whether it's the excitement of the crush and new discoveries, or the beginning of something deeper, Fiyero has no idea. But either way it turns out, Fiyero doesn't want Peter to feel like he's got one foot out the door.

Fiyero hugs him a bit closer, pressing a long kiss into the hair at the top of Peter's head. Peter is obviously very protective of Fiyero, that's been clear from the beginning - but Fiyero is becoming more and more obviously protective of Peter in return too. That moment of action and forced stand-still at the bar really proved that, after all.

He's getting more relaxed now too, something in him loosening a little as Peter sets the alarm. It's alright if they fall asleep in the bath, or in bed afterwards. Peter's more himself, less helpless and vulnerable, so Fiyero doesn't need to watch him some closely, to mind his words and his actions so attentively. He can let go a bit now too as well, tension slowly seeping out of him with cuddles and hot bath water.

He smiles for the picture Peter takes - not too revealing, even if it's clear they're in the bath together, just by the tile behind them. None of Peter's sharpie crowns show, but at least one of Fiyero's hickies on his neck is visible.

Fiyero watches Peter send the picture off, then blinks a bit. "...Did you just send that to your aunt?" he asks, innocent surprise in his voice. Is he serious or is he just messing with Peter? Who can say...

Peter's not used to things being... good. Something as good as what they have going has to have a cost. Sure, that may be a little bit pessimistic, but is he wrong? This felt good, on every level conceivable, and for once Peter isn't shying away from it. He isn't thinking about all the ways this can go wrong, all the things outside of their control; that's coming now, after the fact, because it's irresponsible to avoid it forever. But in the moment? All he was thinking about was Fiyero.

He wasn't even self-conscious, not truly. Not like how he has been before; the more they're together, the more he comes to trust Fiyero, the easier it is to just... be. He doesn't have to pretend or perform with Fiyero, and vice versa; that, more than anything, makes it easier and easier to be confident. A space where neither of them feel judged? It's no wonder the orgasms are mindblowing, letting them both get out of their own heads.

Peter settles as he feels Fiyero relax beneath him, pressing against him like a weighted blanket. It's such a precious thing, having someone who wants to take care of you. A rare thing, in Peter's experience; even rarer someone who can take care of him. He lets May care for him, the way she always has, but she can't actually protect him. Peter didn't think that was something he could have, anymore; he'd been handed a perma-assignment as Protector Of Everyone with that spiderbite, and that was just the way it was.

Privately though, Peter thinks that maybe, with Fiyero, nothing is impossible.

He lets his eyes close to half-lidded as he luxuriates in Fiyero's presence, cuddling him heartily. Idly, Peter contemplates next steps; he's thinking no to a mask for Fiyero, but Peter will definitely put Fiyero in one of his hoodies. Not just because the idea of wrapping Fiyero in his clothes is appealing (and it is, Peter is definitely that boyfriend, if it wasn't obvious by how much he enjoys leaving hickies and having Fiyero draw his crowns) - but practically, it's probably smart to obscure his identity a little, for anyone that might be trying to track them...

It takes a second for Fiyero's words to register, but then the cold flush of dread hits, and the words process. Did he...? No, that would be - no, he couldn't have. Peter unwinds his arm from around Fiyero and pushes to sit up and fish for his phone over the side of the tub, unable to remain relaxed when he's not 100% sure that he didn't -

"Oh my god." Peter gapes in horror when he unlocks the phone to find that Fiyero is right. The little grey word DELIVERED stares back at him mockingly, and the picture - oh good God the picture. It's cute, of course, but completely undeniable as to what it is they're doing. Fiyero's hickey is blatantly visible, the crown on Peter's collarbone likely innocent-looking to outside eyes, but making his cheeks burn, knowing the debauchery behind it. "Fuck. Oh my god, shit - "

He doesn't know what to do, staring in disbelief, phone clutched in his hand. He can't unsend the message, but inaction feels incredibly wrong. And alright, yeah, it could be worse, but Peter can't help feeling like an idiot; so much for the relaxed peace he was enjoying, post-coitus. Distantly, Peter realizes he probably should have expected something like this to happen - Parker Luck, right? Nothing that good happens to him without exacting a price.

Fiyero isn't used to things being good in this way. He performs the careless optimist, and in some ways he is - but not entirely. He's quickly gone all in on this relationship, because he simply can't not do so. And he just... tries not to think about the future too much.

But the future does tend to come for them, currently in the shape of a misdelivered text. Fiyero can easily read on Peter's expression that he was indeed right. Peter did send it to May - and it was very obviously a mistake. Fiyero, upon seeing it, had been trying to find reasons why Peter would send a picture like that to her. And, well, turns out he wouldn't. Not intentionally.

Fiyero sits up a bit too, resting a comforting hand on Peter's back, watching him with gentle concern - and a confusing mix of amusement and his own embarrassment.

Yeah, so, showing the mother of his partner something private like that is probably not ideal. From what little he knows of May, and her support of this relationship, he hopes she'll take it well, but...

There's definitely a certain level of propriety that has been breached. A tiny little pit in his stomach that makes him feel like he's in trouble, that there will he consequences for this. Fiyero isn't used to sharing things with parental figures. Certainly nothing like this. He can't help it, the worry that starts gnawing at him is instinctual, even if he tries to rationally argue against it in his head.

"Well.. At least she already knew?" Fiyero offers, but he doesn't sound entirely convincing. He can't make himself sound not worried. At best he could pretend to only be worried about Peter's reaction, not his own. (He shares more and more with Peter, but there are things that burrow deeper, that resists the light of day.)

Perhaps it's Peter's reaction that's activating his own worry. It makes it feel like a big deal, when Fiyero can't be truly sure that it isn't. And if it were him, it would be a tremendously big deal... Even if you forget the consequences. The idea of sharing something like that with his own parents would be... inconceivable.

The only reason that May has gotten some trust from him is because Fiyero did have some kindly caretakers every now and then. Someone he could share things with - ages ago now. But that's not quite enough to outweigh the bad experiences, when worries like this come creeping in unexpectedly.

All Fiyero can really do is sit there and stroke Peter's back, trying not to bite his lip or look too worried. They're supposed to be relaxing... A pleasant come down after all the intensity. Perhaps he shouldn't have said something. He maybe should have just let Peter discover it on his own later on. After all, it doesn't seem like Peter is able to do much about it.

Not ideal is an understatement. Peter wouldn't have sent that photo to anybody else. He wanted Fiyero to have it, and he should have waited until he wasn't operating on autopilot to send it. Fuck. Peter sighs in defeat, smacking a palm against his forehead a couple of times as he stares at the photo - well, at least they look happy. Outrageously happy, actually, to the point where that is almost more embarrassing than the fact that they're obviously naked. His hand winds into his own hair, stressed and pulling at it - though Fiyero's hand on his back does help, grounding and warm.

Overall, the stakes are low - it's not like she'll be angry with him. That's way worse, truthfully, and always because Peter genuinely deserves the ire. This is an inappropriate picture (and it could be so much worse in that department, too), and it's not at all on the same scale as coming home black and blue and refusing to tell her where he's been or who's hurting him. But the humiliation of it - because it will be, thoroughly, it's one of the ways they express their love - ugh. Maybe the only lucky part of this is that it's May doing the ribbing, because if Ben were still around to see it, Peter would really never hear the end of it.

Peter zones back in to the buzz of the phone, with May hearting the message. His face feels like it's on fire and he wants to throw the device, but the typing bubbles appear, then disappear, and he knows he needs to know what she's going to say before he does.

Bring those smiles to dinner, bubbeleh.

and then, a moment later:

and SHIRTS!

Then, Peter throws the phone - gently, for him anyway, letting it fall to the little bathroom rug - face aflame. He buries his face in his hands, dragging his palm over his countenance. "UGH!"

"She's going to be awful," Peter groans, finally turning back towards Fiyero, with the intention to lay back down. Nothing he can do about it now - truly nothing, aside from wallowing in anxious misery until the dinner. It's a state he's familiar with, so multitasking with a snuggle is easy enough. He tucks his arm back around Fiyero and shifts to lay against him again, stubbornly burying his face against Fiyero's neck. "Just, the most embarrassing woman you've ever met. I told her nothing was happening, which it wasn't, at the time, but of course she doesn't know that so she thinks I was lying, and she already knows she was right but I had to go and give her the ammunition of the century - "

Peter's anxious rambling trails off into indistinct grumbling that he muffles against Fiyero's skin, pressing kisses to his neck and hugging him a little tighter, like snuggling their problems away is an option. It's then that the tension reaches him - stressing himself out, eh, that's par for the course. But... it seems like Fiyero is holding more tension than before; that despite his attempts to look unbothered - he's not actually untroubled. Peter would know the difference - Fiyero's really genuinely chill, about a lot of things.

"Hey," Peter pillows his cheek on Fiyero's shoulder, tipping his head to press a gentle kiss to his skin. "It's my own fault. And you're right, she already knew. God, imagine that, out of the blue? I didn't have to go and give her incontrovertible proof but - well, it is what it is, I guess."

Fiyero reaches up to brush his hand through Peter's hair after Peter's been tugging at it - like the way they soothe each other after being tied up, giving each other gentle touches the replace the feeling of the aches. Fiyero's not feeling entirely at peace himself, but soothing Peter calms himself a bit too. The affection is comforting.

He leans in to look over his shoulder when the phone makes a noise, seeing the little heart there. He can almost feel the heat radiating from Peter's face, and he gives a little reassuring kiss on his shoulder - again in a way reassuring himself just as much, seeking that sweetness. Even if he's not necessarily aware that's what he's doing.

Fiyero does snort at the comment about shirts. He has to admit that's pretty funny. (He has no idea, no guesses as to what "bubbeleh" could possibly mean.) But she wants smiles for dinner, so... things are okay, right?

Peter seems to think different, but he turns to Fiyero for cuddles all the same, and Fiyero welcomes him with literal open arms, wrapping around him, tucking him in close against himself. He's using Peter a little bit like a stuffed toy in return - who needs rainbow coloured teddybear Fuzzy Wuzzy when he's got a lovely boyfriend to hug instead, right?

He's obviously perfectly alright with the plan of snuggling their problems away. One hand is tracing patterns with his fingertips up and down Peter's spine, and the other is weaving gently into his hair, cupping the back of his head.

He's not fully processing the details of what Peter is saying. His mind is supplying images that even he knows is probably far from the truth, but he still can't help that niggling worry, when Peter is so stressed about it. Usually he's managed to be a pretty good anchor for Peter, but turns out parental things might be a bit different - at least when he himself might be getting part of the reaction. It just kind of feels like they're in trouble, and that's not a great feeling. It's a feeling Fiyero doesn't feel very often anymore, or at least not in a way that affects him, because being in trouble with teachers and the like isn't as big of a deal - and usually they let a lot of things slide for him anyway.

He blinks down at Peter, realising he's finished talking and is actually looking up at Fiyero, who's been lost in thought, only hearing about half of it. "I mean, it would have been a pretty ridiculous way for her to find out, yeah," Fiyero agrees, a bit belatedly as he finally processes some of what Peter was saying. His voice is joking and playful, but it doesn't quite have that lightness to it.

Fiyero definitely seems out of it, now that Peter's setting aside his own anxiety spiral. The light touches helped him more than he can articulate, but somehow Fiyero is able to both calm Peter down and... wind up lost in thought himself. Peter blinks, studying his expression for a second, and his free hand unwinds from behind Fiyero's back to brush over his chest, letting warm water spill from his fingers down through Fiyero's chest hair. "Hey. Everything okay?"

Peter realizes, slowly, that maybe Fiyero is embarrassed. He doesn't seem to be shaking this off as easily as he does most things, and the real reason for it is a mystery to Peter - one of those things Fiyero has kept mostly under wraps. To be fair, it's not like there are a lot of adult figures they have to contend with, so it's not really come up. But maybe it bothers him, knowing May has seen a photo like that of the two of them in an intimate moment - just because it's not as intimate as it could have been doesn't mean it wasn't still private.

Peter offers an apologetic smile, cupping Fiyero's cheek with a warm, damp hand, thumb sweeping affectionately against his face. "I'm sorry, baby. It was an accident; I still had the text thread open and I thought I was forwarding the photo to you and - I just - I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable. I won't do it again, I - like having pictures; obviously, I mean, photographer and all, ha - but, uh, they should just be for us and - um - yeah. I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry."

His awkward ramble dies down into chagrined silence, but Peter soldiers on and leans forward to give Fiyero a gentle kiss, brown eyes searching blue for his reaction. It's the only reason Peter can think of for this silent shift; though if Fiyero isn't going to tell him one way or the other, Peter will probably just continue his nervous apologizing.

Fiyero feels that very uncomfortable and scary sensation as Peter studies him, like pinpricks on his back, giving him goosebumps. He's not used to being noticed in this way, to have someone see through his facade quite so easily. Of course, he already knew this. He's broken down in front of Peter more than once, he's bared himself in more ways than one. Peter's seen the most embarrassing parts of him, in record speed no less. And yet Peter has never been anything but kind and supporting and protective.

Well, maybe with one or two exceptions. That day in the library, after Fiyero had ditched him, but it had been probably pretty deserved. They were cold with each other then - it feels like maybe the only time they were actually cold with each other. And yet they had actually warmed up quickly again, even then. The other times, well, it was mostly Fiyero putting up walls and distance. He can acknowledge that now, more or less. He hasn't had much time to really think about the breakneck speed they've been going through all kinds of phases in this relationship - including before it became a relationship - but it does come to him in moments like this, little snippets. Honestly, he's probably lucky they've been spending so much time together, not giving him the chance to work himself into yet another spiral. If Peter wasn't here right now, snuggled up so close he can feel Peter's skin against so many parts of him, tangled together - Fiyero would probably be much deeper in his own head than he already is.

Perhaps it's the fact it's colliding with dormant 'angry disappointed parents' feelings, deep inside him, that makes him feel like he needs to hide, to put up a shield. It's not safe to feel emotions like this, to have someone see it. At best, it's going to go ignored. At worst, well. There's a voice in his head, quiet and deep at the back, that's calling him irrational and immature, undignified, a disgrace. Triggering irrational fears of what's going to happen next, fears he knows are irrational. It's not a conscious thought, it's not logical - it's a deeply ingrained instinct.

Or perhaps it's the fact that they haven't quite recovered from their activities. Fiyero in particular, was maybe a couple minutes into actually letting himself relax, to let go of those feelings of responsibility. He's still a bit raw as well, or highly strung, just not in the same way Peter is, or has been. But that doesn't necessarily mean he isn't vulnerable too, even if he isn't fully aware of it.

He smiles at Peter's question, and really it's only been a few seconds since Peter asked, but it feels like Fiyero was sitting there for an eternity while Peter was examining him. "Yeah, of course," he answers, nodding, voice casual.

It's not convincing. Maybe to random strangers it would be, but the facade hasn't worked or a while on Peter. Fiyero can feel it even as he says it, that Peter knows that everything isn't okay.

It's not terrible either, he's not on the verge of a panic attack here or anything. (Oz, he sure hopes he isn't! But no.) Sure, there's tension, an underlying current of anxiety, but it's not building. His heart isn't starting to hammer away or anything, pulse barely quickening a little, nothing remarkable. He gives Peter's waist a squeeze, both to reassure his boyfriend, and because he wants to hold him close.

Fiyero isn't really trying to lie to Peter, to hide it. He doesn't really want to do that, but to some extent that too is instinctual, to brush away the worries. Especially ones he doesn't want to confront for his own sake, where bringing them into the light would make them far sharper and more dangerous. If anything, he hopes Peter takes it for what it really is - something Fiyero doesn't want to talk about. Like them can both implicitly agree that sure, everything isn't okay, but that doesn't mean they need to hash it out here and now.

Peter, as is his way, immediately starts comforting Fiyero. Always: kind, supportive and protective. Fiyero's smile turns more sincere as he leans into Peter's hand, accepting and encouraging the affection. Whatever things he wants to hide, at least he doesn't want to run away from this.

But the comfort turns to an unnecessary amount of apologies - one was alright, Fiyero would forgive him immediately for the slip-up, of course he would. But Peter stumbles over his words trying to explain and promise and apologise, and Fiyero starts gently shaking his head, giving a gentle shushing noise at him to get him to stop his awkward ramble, which Peter answers with a soft kiss. Fiyero returns it, and the kiss is short and sweet, even as Peter's searching eyes makes his skin prickle.

"It's okay, it was an accident," Fiyero answers, and this time he does sound more convincing, because he really means that. He's not remotely upset with Peter in all this, for any reason. "It's not a big deal, it's not your fault." He gives a soft ironic huff, smiling crookedly at Peter. "If anything it's probably my fault, for messing with your brain that much," he teases, reaching up to brush a hand through Peter's hair, ruffling it rather than smoothing it down for once. It's a friendly, affectionate, playful tease, not really serious of course. But still, absolving Peter of any guilt in the matter, because Fiyero certainly doesn't give him any blame.

Peter can be oblivious - this is a demonstrable fact, like with MJ flirting with him. But he can also swing in the opposite direction, and notice fine details that escape others - especially when it's to do with something that has his full focus. Fiyero absolutely hits that mark; he has, since day one, but now that they're together? Now that Peter has permitted himself to care deeply, has let loose the grip he had on holding back? Peter tried so hard not to care, the morning after Fiyero left him hanging - and he still couldn't manage it. Now, it really is open season.

He briefly considers pressing, not letting Fiyero get away with the avoidance. The first rebuttal is just that, obviously forced nonchalance. Peter's eyes soften with knowing, lips quirking at the corners into a soft smile. He knows it's not okay, they both do. But, ultimately - the tension isn't insurmountable, and Peter stares for another heady beat before he nods slightly, indicating his assent to Fiyero's white lie.

Peter knows what it is to know another person; it's why he was so obstinate about not doing that again because he knows, too, how badly it hurts when it ends. But Fiyero doesn't, not in this way, and forcing his way through walls before Fiyero is ready to let him in isn't going to do either of them any favors. What matters is this: Fiyero's arm around his waist, the reciprocated kiss. Fiyero's hand in his hair, and the cute hushing noises he makes to get Peter to stop his word vomit. It might not be okay, and they might both know it - but sometimes even just a warm presence might help mend something that's broken.

"No, it's definitely my fault. Should've paid more attention..." Peter laughs softly, tipping his head back into Fiyero's hand before he settles against his shoulder again, situating himself for optimum weighted blanketness. He's quiet for a moment, just listening to Fiyero's heartbeat, the sound of them both breathing.

"...you can tell me anything, you know." Maybe it helps that Peter's not looking at him, not gauging his response - Peter just wants to let him know. To verbalize what Fiyero should already know, of course, but it never hurts to hear it again. Whether Fiyero takes advantage of that fact today, tomorrow, or maybe never - Peter wants him to know. He tilts his lips up towards Fiyero's neck, offering him another soft brush of his lips. Eyes closed, Peter's voice drops to a low murmur. "Anything, always."

Peter hums quietly, lapsing into comfortable silence. It's not expectant - if Fiyero doesn't want to say anything at all, Peter won't take offense. But maybe one day, he'll let Peter behind that next wall. That's what pillow talk is for, isn't it?

Fiyero feels a little bit like his he's buzzing on the inside. But perhaps it's a testament to how secure he really does feel in Peter's devotion, that he's settled just enough to not cause any alarm bells for Peter, supernatural or otherwise. Nor is he subconsciously trying to use his powers to get Peter to snuggle him closer - or to back away, for that matter. Peter seems to manage just the right amount that Fiyero wants in this moment, affectionate and close, but not overbearing in his attention.

For all Peter's intense attention and how he can't stop himself from caring, Fiyero does appreciate that Peter manages to stop himself from caring in an.. Well, invasive way. He lets Fiyero get away with it, and the way he smiles and softens hints at understanding. Not understanding like believing the cover story, but understanding why it's there in the first place.

Maybe at some point, Fiyero can get to a point of fuller honesty, where he can say that he's... a little unnerved, perhaps? One issue is he's not even sure how to define it simply, without going into it. Perhaps he can eventually manage to say that he's not totally okay, but that he'd rather not talk about it, and would rather just continue doing what they're doing right now.

It's probably a tall order. Fiyero's emotional intelligence might be better than a lot of people - at least the people he tends to surround himself with - but it does still have blind spots. Particularly when it comes to himself. It's difficult to see yourself without someone holding up a mirror.

Some of the tension does seep out of him as Peter accepts his white lie and simply starts quietly giving him affection and comfort, letting things stay light. The soft laugh releases some of that worry in Fiyero. Now Peter is no longer freaking out about May's reaction, it's a bit easier for Fiyero to not get too caught up in it either. He honestly has trouble actually imagining what her reaction would be. He doesn't know her well enough, and more importantly, he doesn't know many remotely like her to have a basis for comparison. But she raised Peter, and the two of them obviously love each other - something still so foreign to Fiyero - so it can't truly be too terrible.

Peter's reassuring weight and comfortable silence calms Fiyero too, as he leans his cheek against the top of Peter's head. Trying to let himself feel the calm, despite the burst of anxiety still circling around his system. It's not something that seeps out quite so quickly, but it gets easier to ignore it.

Fiyero's not quite expecting Peter to speak up with something so sincere. It feels completely ~~out of left field~~ bursting out of the bushes, like a complete change of topic out of nowhere. But it's not, really, given Fiyero was just hiding things and Peter was noticing it. This is just Peter acknowledging it, without actually addressing it directly.

It's warming and sweet, and so completely unfamiliar. Who has he ever had who he could tell anything? It feels like something people say but don't really mean. Like love. The performance of romance, not something people actually do because they want to, but because it's expected, it's a step in the dance, a part of courting someone. Or it feels like a trap, like the bait for catching them out in something.

Fiyero thinks he had a teacher like that once. Someone who'd said the exact same words: 'You can tell me anything.' Sure, Fiyero could tell him anything, but the unspoken 'no harm will come to you' that's implied in a statement like that didn't actually get followed through with. It hadn't really been anything serious. He'd admitted that he'd snuck out, and then he immediately got in trouble for it. The sort of thing that teaches you that just because you can tell someone something doesn't mean you should. Now, his parents hadn't even made that kind of promise in the first place. His father didn't remotely know how to connect like that, so he'd never think to say something like that. Perhaps his father felt that way but never showed it, Fiyero truly doesn't know. But there were enough times he got in trouble for something that keeping secrets just became the norm, the safest way to exist.

He sits there in silence for a while, resting against Peter, mulling this over in his mind. What would he even say? The idea of saying the stuff that's been floating through mind right now feels so outrageous that it doesn't even occur to him. He wouldn't know where to start. And he doesn't actually want to think about it. As much as he still want to connect with Peter, this doesn't really seem like a good time to start ripping off old bandages to examine the half forgotten scars underneath.

"Anything?" he asks softly, a rhetorical question more to show he's thinking, or to set up the continuation. Anything, sure.

"There's this weed that grows back home, fire nessel, which makes a really good soup but stings you if you touch it, so you have to wear gloves to collect it," Fiyero starts, his voice a low comfortable rumble, clearly idly starting to tell a story. "When I was little, I was learning about these things, how to survive in the wild, learning about plants, things like that. And they sent me out to collect some. But I was so short," he says, giving a soft chuckle as he speaks. "The plants were taller than me, so even with gloves, I'd end up accidentally stinging my face. Got this big rash on my face and went back empty handed. Teacher put some ointment on it, then sent me out again, told me I'd know better this time than to let that happen."

Fiyero's second chuckle is a bit stronger, recalling the funny memory. "Suppose he was right, because I really didn't want to try again. So I went out and found this similar plant, which looked almost the same but grew shorter so I could pluck it safely, you know?" he continues, his hand idly tracing patterns along Peter's back as he talks. "Got a whole bunch of it in my bag, brought it home, and then they taught me to make a soup of out it. Well... Since I made it, I suppose they figured I should get to eat it too, as reward for my hard work or something? I don't know. Turns out not only does it taste like spicy dirt water, it's also a little bit poisonous. I was throwing up for three days because I didn't want to admit I'd taken the wrong plant."

He's laughing at the memory - clearly being sick for three days doesn't really matter anymore now. It had been awful at the time, but he did learn the difference between those plants very well, so it was an inadvertent learning experience anyway. Even now, it only vaguely occurs to him that his teacher probably would have been able to tell it was the wrong plant in the first place, as well as what it might do to him if brewed into a soup, and had simply decided that was just punishment for him - or at least a not so inadvertent learning experience, even if Fiyero didn't consciously know what lesson they were trying to teach him. If it was 'don't lie to get out of work', that lesson definitely didn't stick. If anything 'lie better and know what you're lying about' was what he took away from it, because that's what actually kept him out of stinging his face or making himself sick in the future.

It would be an interesting study, the levels at which Peter's preternatural senses trigger. But there is a difference between distressed to the point of harm, and a lighter distress that Peter notices just because he's seeing. This is the latter, latent and nonthreatening. If it were the former - well, Peter was ready to bust down several bathroom doors to help. His response is not exactly a mystery.

Peter stays quiet and mostly still aside from a short nod when Fiyero asks Anything?, as if Peter would ever change his mind about something like that. He remains tucked up against Fiyero while his boyfriend contemplates what he wants to say, and tells a childhood anecdote - though it certainly strikes Peter as less of an anecdote and more of a serious case of negligence. How little is little? How old was Fiyero that he wasn't tall enough to handle the plants they were sending him after - and then letting him poison himself?

Even if it doesn't really occur to Fiyero that it was intentional on the teacher's part, it's immediately what Peter's thinking about. He's a teaching assistant; there's no way the teacher didn't notice. Peter would never let a student hurt themselves, can't even fathom the thought process that justifies such a thing - and his students are adults. Peter stays tucked against Fiyero's neck, glad to hide his own expression - he's not sure what it's doing right now, but he is sure it's not the amusement Fiyero was expecting. It doesn't escape Peter that this is one of the most personal stories Fiyero has ever divulged to him and that's just - he doesn't have the words for it. His parents, drugging him to keep him quiet; his teachers, being cruel. Who did he have, growing up? Just the talking horse?

Peter's quiet for a moment after Fiyero finishes, his grip a little snugger around Fiyero - he's trying pretty hard not to make it obvious, but he thinks they both need a hug after that. Peter gathers himself and clears his throat when he's relatively sure he's composed, enough to keep it light. Now's... not the time to point out how sad and angry that made him, on Fiyero's behalf. No, Fiyero let him step a foot inside the door, and it's not a moment that begs a reaction.

"I'm sorry, that sounds like it sucked." Well, at least that part is honest; getting stung and sick for days does suck and so does Fiyero's so-called teacher. Peter quirks an eyebrow, pulling his head back enough to look up at Fiyero with warmth. "Does the soup sting, too? The fire nessel soup. How did they even figure that out? Like, oh, this plant hurts me if I touch it - better put it in my throat."

Fiyero does notice Peter isn't laughing, but Fiyero simply chalks it up to Peter being a city boy and not having much context for all this. Which is perhaps for the best. He doesn't really examine his silence too deeply, assuming cluelessness rather than outright anger and upset. And Peter hugging him a bit tighter, well, that's fair enough given the story did involve Fiyero getting sick, and Peter is very protective.

Honestly, with how protective Peter is, Fiyero wouldn't have been that surprise if he did get a little sad at hearing about it anyway, despite the fact that to Fiyero it doesn't seem like much of a big deal. Peter would probably be doting on him with reckless abandon if Fiyero had thrown up now, much less when he was a child. That thing that doesn't connect for Fiyero would be that Peter is much more aware that this is a thing that was done to him, when he was a child and didn't know any better and didn't have much of an alternative.

So Fiyero smiles when Peter's first reaction is sympathy, and Fiyero gives a light hum of acknowledgement. Yeah, it did, but it's in the past and he's clearly fine. ~~Trust him, he's totally fine, these things didn't affect him at all.~~ Not much worth getting worked up over now.

Ironic, really, considering he just got a little bit upset over mostly nothing, with sending that message to May and fearing what the response might be. Some things just feel like fun stories, and he doesn't quite connect them to the latent fear or coping mechanisms they might have instilled in him. No one's making him harvest weed and poison himself now after all. No, he's just being kidnapped to be experimented on - and at least they can both obviously agree that's very bad. But that also feels very far away at the moment, safe in their little nest they've made together - whether that's actually true or not.

Fiyero laughs when Peter plays up the question of how that soup was discovered. It's a fair point, and Fiyero hadn't really considered it himself, never questioning it. "No, the soup is fine. I don't know, I think something about cooking it makes it not be dangerous anymore," he answers with a one-shouldered shrug, shifting lightly to wrap his leg behind Peter's legs, entangling them further. "I don't know how people discover these things. People needing food and they just try the stuff that's around them, I suppose?"

Well, the city boy part is true - he'd be useless in a forest survival scenario. Alright, maybe not entirely useless; he'd probably be able to start a fire, given the right motivation, and his superpowers would do a lot of the heavy lifting - but identifying edible plants is definitely beyond him. He wonders if Fiyero misses the natural landscape of Oz; the city is ruthlessly different, to the point that even the "natural" parts are mostly by design. Maybe one day, Peter could take him outside the city. Nowhere crazy - upstate, a short train ride. Provided it's safe enough for him to travel... and with what money and what time, but... it's a nice thought.

"So if you don't cook it well enough - stinging soup? Got anyone you wish a mouth rash on?" Peter manages to muster a smile at Fiyero's laugh, packing away the shock and anger. He can feel it in his palms, that prickling, needle sensation; the taste of iron at the back of his mouth. He swallows it down for Fiyero's sake, taking the opportunity instead to channel his feeling into hugging Fiyero a little bit tighter, to let Fiyero entangle them further so Peter can press his affection into Fiyero's skin - as if maybe doing that will help make up for all the time Fiyero went without. He won't go without; not on Peter's watch, not anymore.

"There's always a reason for the rule." Peter watches Fiyero's expression for a moment, but this time, it's not like he's looking for anything in particular; just enjoying Fiyero's presence, watching him like he's the most interesting thing in the world because he is. If Fiyero's not used to someone seeing him as he is, maybe he's just not used to anyone looking the way Peter is. "I've never been camping. I mean you - know that but. No cooking soup over a campfire for me. No like... wilderness skills."

"S'okay though. Cause I've got you, yeah?" Peter teases gently, kissing his way up to Fiyero's cheek; lips brushing his neck, his jaw. Warm fingers bump lightly through Fiyero's hair, coaxing him within kissing distance so Peter can plant a sweet kiss on his mouth. He smiles against Fiyero, letting their noses bump. "My nature man. You won't let the bears eat me..."

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