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

Fiyero looks more confused than annoyed or scared when Kate makes her escape, so Peter’s going to count that as a win. He nods, accepting Fiyero’s assessment - for now, anyway. He still seems a little off-kilter, but who wouldn’t be? Peter doesn’t think Fiyero meant for that to happen… he never does, not really. Not consciously. It’s quickly becoming something they need to deal with, in a more hands-on capacity.

As if they don’t have enough to deal with.

Wryly, Peter thinks to himself that it might just cut into their sex time. Oh, the audacity.

Peter lets his fingers run soothingly over Fiyero’s knuckles, tilting his head slightly. Fiyero really does look okay, and Peter’s once again struck with how resilient he is. Lost, so far from all he’s ever known - and yeah, he’s lost it a few times, but again, who wouldn’t? He’s okay now - he’s strong enough to bear it.

“Yeah, we can go back. We got what we needed.” Help, and information. Maybe not enough yet… but soon. The pieces were starting to come together. Peter smiles beneath the mask, raising one hand to brush Fiyero’s cheek - just a gentle reassurance, bolstering, but not lingering. Not here, where the potential for prying eyes was higher, especially while in costume. “We’ll come back in a few days. Give them time to check their sources.”

Peter claps a hand on Fiyero’s knee, squeezing his palm with the other before he lets go - not to go far, of course, but to turn around so Fiyero can climb onto his back again. “Come on, let’s get out of here. Hell’s Kitchen gives me hives.”

Fiyero misses seeing Peter’s comforting brown eyes looking back at him. He feels like he's the one who could use a grounding, peaceful kiss right now, but it will just have to wait. The touch against his cheek though, that's very appreciated. At least Peter can see the soft, grateful smile Fiyero gets in return.

He nods in agreement, pushing himself up smoothly. He didn't need to sit down because he was dizzy or anything like that - it just feels more protected, being able to draw his knees up a little. If Peter weren't there to be his protector, he would have stood strong. But even without really being able to talk or touch, Peter's presence gives him just enough security that he can let himself look weak. Which is actually quite a compliment.

"Well, yes, when you call a place Hell's Kitchen," Fiyero answers with a snort, trying to keep it light, bolstering them both. He shifts the backpack, tucks the scarf in properly, before he hops up onto Peter's back, taking his usual position. "VIP ready for departure," he jokes, a quiet whisper into Peter's ear.

The smile definitely soothes some nerves Peter didn’t even fully clock - Fiyero’s alright. His heartbeat is steady, and there’s no immediate danger. Jeez, when did Peter’s state of being become so entwined with Fiyero’s? Perhaps he was doomed the moment they set eyes on each other in the park. He forgot what it was like, having a piece of your heart walking around outside of your body.

Stressful, really.

But it’s all worth it, for the way Fiyero surprises him with the joke - Peter laughs, loud and free, resting a hand over Fiyero’s coiled arms to squeeze, before he follows Daredevil’s lead and catapults them over the edge of the building in a few long strides. Peter twists, torquing them through the air to build up power before his web hits, releasing it in a snap that sends them wheeling into the street.

It’s a relatively peaceful night - they pass an ambulance, drunk club goers, old men smoking cigars on front stoops. Peter swings them back towards home, breath puffing out of his mask with the exertion - it’s getting colder, as the night starts dipping towards morning. It’s as they cross into Midtown that Peter gets an idea, and he curves them around a block of apartments towards the waterfront - it’ll breeze them past home, but in the dark and away from their building, he’s not sure Fiyero will notice.

He swings them across the bridge towards Queens - which is less swinging and more running, when he lands on a steel beam and sticks, gloved hands fitting under Fiyero’s thighs to hoist him like a backpack. Lights glitter on the water, distorted reflections that give the illusion of a night sky reflected back at them. Safely over, Peter swings them to a skidding stop around a corner, leaving a scuff mark with his shoe. He taps Fiyero’s leg to indicate he should get down, bouncing to turn around and face him. “Give me - two minutes. Stay right here, yeah?”

Peter leaves him under a streetlight - ducking into the diner just a few paces away. As the door opens, the woman behind the counter cheers - Spiderman! - before the sound is lost to the door closing behind him. The next minute or so is an amusing display of charades through the window - Peter tries to give the woman money out of his boot, gesturing animatedly as she ignores him, bustling behind the counter. Men wearing reflective construction gear yell something at him from the back, and Peter does a handstand, walking a few paces towards their table.

He’s merrily thrown out of the diner moments later with a takeout box that the woman refuses to take any money for, the door opening again to a cacophony of cheerful noise, and Peter jogs back over to Fiyero, offering him the box. It’s warm, smelling spiced, like… cinnamon?

“Care for a quick detour?” Peter offers, one gloved hand smoothing gently down the front of Fiyero’s coat, brushing the wayward strands of his scarf back into place. “Or we can go home. But… I know a place that’s perfect for some late night dessert… if you want?”

Edited 2026-02-18 10:28 (UTC)

Suddenly jumping from a building feels less stressful than a conversation. It helps that he can hang onto Peter, burying his face a little into his neck once again as he holds on. It's not quite becoming routine, still a rush, and feeling always just a bit precarious. But it's beautiful too, watching the lights flash by, and the cold air feels clearing, even as he worries about Peter being cold.

He doesn't notice the detour until they reach the river, lifting his head to look down at the water as Peter runs. Peter manages to do so surprisingly smoothly with Fiyero on his back, holding onto his legs so he barely feels jostled. It's also a great view of the skyline, the contrast between the neighbourhoods on each side of the river, and Fiyero is almost a little sad they don't get to stop to appreciate it.

Once on the ground, he slips off Peter's back, giving him a confused and curious look. "Okay," is all he manages to answer, blinking. But Peter seems cheerful, not urgent or worried, so about to avert some disaster, so Fiyero doesn't get to worried either.

He takes off his gloves, his hands comfortably warm inside them, so he can hold them up against his face, warming his nose and his cheeks with his hands and his hot breath.

His confusion turns to amusement as he watches what's happening inside, and he can't help but smile to himself at how they're responding to him. For how thankless Peter's life seems sometimes, at least he does get thanks. It's good to see.

Fiyero's smile widens as Peter returns, greeting him wordlessly, accepting the box curiously. And with more appetite now, suddenly.

"If you think it's good, I'll happily go," his voice soft. Able to safely show some of that affection again, happy when Peter reaches out to touch him. He glances over at the window, giving it a nod, his smile turning a bit playful. "You should do your shopping in that outfit. Wouldn't really matter how much you got paid then."

Fiyero is unfairly cute, peeking out from behind his gloves as Peter offers him the box. He's once again reminded of why he's grateful for the mask when his face heats, sure that the soft, sappy expression in his eyes is all but leaking through the spandex and PVC. Seeing Fiyero still be able to smile like that - wide, brimming with easy happiness - after everything, how can it not be heartening?

Peter tugs lightly at Fiyero's coat, clearly pleased - he can't very well give him a peck on the cheek like this, but he's reasonably confident Fiyero feels the vibe regardless. His hand drops to curl around Fiyero's waist, and Peter shakes his head, laughter ringing at the edges of his tone. "Why, Mr. Tigelaar. Are you suggesting I seduce the staff?"

He launches them up into the air without any further preamble, arm caging Fiyero in against his chest - and keeping the box between them, should it be jostled by the sudden movement. The spot he has in mind isn't far, an easy enough one-handed swing that settles into a rhythm with his breathing, and the quick pump of Fiyero's heart. Up, in, down, out, thump, thump, thump...

He lands lightly in the grass, holding Fiyero up just enough that his feet won't drag, so Peter is the one who absorbs the impact and Fiyero can find his footing. He's taken them to a park - not the park, still within Queens - dotted intermittently with streetlamps that shine weakly through the trees. It's really not ideal this late at night - were Fiyero with anyone else. Peter offers Fiyero his hand, curling gloved fingers around Fiyero's - he wishes he could feel him, but feeling Fiyero's ever-present, solid heat is enough, for now. "Don't worry. No cameras around here. Come on."

It's a testament to how intensely he feels about Peter. Even in the midst of everything else, it feels easy to muster up a smile for Peter. And even when it's not easy, well, it's worth it.

"Apparently it wouldn't even take you much effo-ooaahh," Fiyero breaks off mid sentence as Peter shoots them up in the air. Fiyero had barely had time to drape an arm around him - but there's no need, Peter holding him securely.

He grips on tightly anyway, just for his own sense of security. But he's grinning, that rush of pleasant adrenaline. And yes, his heart is definitely beating. As exciting as it can be, it's still a relief when he lands on solid ground again.

"You're not always big on warnings, are you?" he asks, a tease in his voice. He takes Peter's hand, giving it a squeeze and holding on. He misses nature, so he's happy to find himself in a park as Peter leads the way.

Peter's grinning to himself by the time they land, reasonably confident that his bid for distraction has been successful - Fiyero doesn't appear to be ruminating on the clandestine meeting, at least, not in the present moment. Peter shakes his head, thumb sweeping against the back of Fiyero's hand as he leads them through the grass - hitting pavement and following the curve of it through the trees. For a city as hectic as New York could be, at night it almost seemed... transformed. A slumbering beast, holding it's breath until the sunrise.

"Where's the fun in that?" Peter teases right back, bumping his shoulder into Fiyero's companionably. There's no one around, and as they wander deeper into the park, the only company they find are their own shadows, stretching out long before them with the streetlamp on their backs.

"We're not far from May's." Peter tilts his head, glancing East - the transition back into city suburb glitters along the edge of the darkened park. "Great picnic spot, during the day."

Peter has definitely managed to snap Fiyero out of worrying, for the moment. He is easily distracted with something shiny and exciting in front of him. Apart from his moment of losing control, using his powers on them, it seemed to go well. And as for that slip up, well, they didn't really seem to notice - or at least realise and understand what happened. Honestly though, Fiyero would like to not be around them again unless he can control himself, simply because he doesn't imagine they would take kindly to being manipulated like that, no matter how unintentional.

But now his focus is on Peter, and on finally getting to touch him again. Even just openly holding hands through gloves feels nice. He can't wait to be curled up in bed together, but he also wants to see everything Peter wants to show him.

"And at night? You probably have super vision in the dark too, don't you?" Fiyero answers, gently teasing still. "Where exactly are we heading?"

Peter’s begun to learn that it’s best to cut the bad with something good. Turning around to address it right now - when it’s not immediately pressing, when they have the time to decompress - isn’t going to do them any favors. Talking about it when they’re cuddled up in bed, when Fiyero is calm and winding down, is probably better.

So distraction and enjoying themselves where they can, in the meantime, is key. Especially when Peter knows that the conversation and where it’s ultimately headed will, inevitably, cause plenty of stress. Peter grins, glancing over at Fiyero, the subtle tip of his masked face. “Super vision works in the light and the dark.”

“Mm… you’ll see.” Peter squeezes Fiyero’s hand, guiding him around a copse of shrubs. As they pass through it, the destination becomes more clear - twinkling lights in distance, a blazing monument in the otherwise darkened park. As they get closer, the mirage forms - it’s a carousel, the horses mounted on golden poles resting dormant, frozen mid-gallop.

Fiyero's starting to be able to tell a bit more of Peter's expressions behind that mask. There's only so much you can see, but the way the cheeks puff up a little, he feels like he can see the inklings of a smile. More importantly, he can hear it in Peter's voice. And it is Peter's voice, not the Spiderman voice he seems to put on, changing it ever so slightly.

He doesn't ask more, waiting somewhat patiently as they walk together, squeezing Peter's hand in return. It takes him a moment to realise what he's even looking at.

"Oh! I saw one of those, the place we went one of my first days here," Fiyero says, surprise and interest in his voice, and a hint of wonder. It's very different in the dark, no multi-coloured lights or cloying music. It almost feels a little sad, the way it's looking now.

“Yeah, but this is the best one in town.” Peter watches as Fiyero takes it in - yeah, maybe it’s not as fancy as the other one. This one is a historic landmark, hand-carved wood depicting the horses and circus animals, bright yellow bulbs instead of the wild multi-colored lights and no music cycling on repeat - but Peter almost likes it better that way. Just the two of them, this little oasis of light and whimsy, a place to be truly alone in the city that never sleeps.

“Security guard route doesn’t pass through here until 2AM.” Peter tugs on Fiyero’s hand, pulling him closer so he can lift Fiyero by the waist and set him on the edge of the carousel. It’s not like Fiyero particularly needs the help, but his hands are full with dessert and it gives Peter an excuse to touch him. Peter climbs up easily after him, hands sticking to the two closest poles so he can balance like the spidery creature he is. “No cameras, either. Historical monument means a fuckton of paperwork to change anything.”

There’s a two-person carriage nearby, and Peter spins himself around one of the poles to prop himself up against the painted wood. He does a little comedic flourish and offers his hand to Fiyero, playacting the footman. “Your steed, my lord?”

Fiyero definitely finds this one more charming. On the one hand, it feels lonely, surrounded by the darkness, but it's also a wonderful little pearl in the middle of the quiet. An oasis of whimsy indeed.

He chuckles a little as Peter picks him up and lifts him. Fiyero definitely could have gotten up here himself, it's not that tall, even carrying dessert. (There must also be an actual staircase somewhere, surely?) But it's sweet, and it's also kind of hot, being lovingly manhandled like that.

It's more lovely up close, the wooden models certainly must have taken some craft to make, and it's clearly old. Historical monument and all.

Fiyero smiles warmly as Peter practically bows to offer his hand, and Fiyero takes it, stepping onto the model carriage. He sets the food down, pulling off his backpack before sitting down, backpack in front of his feet. The very first thing he does is open it and pull out the sweater, playfully thrusting it at Peter. Clearly a demand, not a request. No need for him to be sticking to things right now. And it's not as cold when they're not flying through the air, but it's still chilly, and he won't have the movement keeping him warm.

Peter snorts with fond amusement as Fiyero offers him the sweater - or rather, presses it into his hands. He doesn’t argue - far too touched at the thoughtfulness to, really - and takes it, slips into the garment, red, webbed head poking through the top as he folds his arms inside and lets it fall over his gangly frame. It makes sense, when he’s hiding the outfit - but with the mask and gloves still on, the ensemble definitely looks interesting.

He pulls two sets of plastic silverware out of his boot - wrapped in plastic baggies, with a knife, fork, and napkin each. Peter folds himself into the carriage next, tucking his legs underneath himself - there’s not much room, with two fully grown men sharing a carousel seat, but Peter’s used to odd angles and cramming himself into small spaces.

Peter slides a hand beneath the takeout box, deftly slipping it from Fiyero’s grasp and leaving him with a set of silverware instead. Gloved fingertips press to the top of the box, sticking easily, and he lifts it with panache, like a clamshell holding treasure, presenting it to Fiyero.

Inside is a steaming piece of pie - apple sugar and cinnamon oozing gently from the flaky crust. Peter sets it between them, balanced on their thighs; with the size of the carriage, there’s not much room for it to spill anywhere, anyway. His shoulder bumps Fiyero, and Peter leans against him, content to let Fiyero dig in first. “Think we deserve it, after tonight.”

Fiyero smiles with satisfaction as Peter obeys his nonverbal command, glad he's allowing himself to be warm. Surely he doesn't need to be sticking to anything just now. They're just gonna snuggle up together and eat food, and that will probably help with the heat too.

He's amused at where Peter has things hidden away, and he adjusts as Peter sits down, sitting comfortably pressed up together. They've really adopted each other into their personal bubbles.

When Peter opens the box, Fiyero gives a deep inhale through his nose, enjoying that amazing smell and letting out a happy sigh. He almost immediately takes the fork to dig in, closing his eyes with a satisfied hum, nodding as if approving of it.

He only goes for two bites though, before he sets the fork down in the box. He pulls off his gloves and twists a little towards Peter, reaching up for his fingertips to find that subtle seam for his mask. "May I?"

The fact that Fiyero cares and looks out for him in whatever way he can - Peter’s not used to it, but it means it’s always a pleasant surprise. Fiyero is a line of warmth against his side, and it feels so natural to be like this. To be close, to offer Fiyero a hand or grab him and lovingly manhandle him. Peter’s just so comfortable with him now - and it’s true, they’ve been living out of each other’s pockets - that it comes as second nature.

Peter grins beneath the mask as Fiyero eagerly digs into the dessert, pleased that Fiyero seems relatively relaxed. Good. It might not be much, but they take the good moments where they can find them. It seems to pass the good enough for human consumption test, and Peter twirls his own silverware between his fingers, fiddling. “Best pie in Queens, don’t let anybody tell you different.”

His smile softens when Fiyero reaches for him, tilting his head appropriately for the grasping fingers. They’re warm against his neck, warmer still when the edge of the mask starts to lift up and Fiyero is able to brush against actual skin.

“Of course. Thanks.” Peter rests a hand on the delivery box to steady it, a little bit of his hair visible at the back as the mask starts to roll up. “Not all the way, just, uh, over my nose?”

Safer this way - even though they’re alone, with no cameras - Peter knows by now that you never know when something could happen. It’s safer on a rooftop, where someone is less likely to accidentally stumble upon them.

Fiyero is very grateful that Peter is taking the effort to distract him, to give him something nice to balance out the stress. It makes him feel like the apartment is the only place they can feel good and happy together. There room for it outside as well.

His fingertips slide gently across his neck, finding the split and almost caressing his skin as they slip inside the mask. It's very gentle and sweet, the careful way he pulls the mask up. Fiyero smiles as the instruction.

"I suppose that's enough," he answers, folding the mask just above Peter's nose. His hands move closer, cupping his cheeks, warm and affectionate and treating him like something precious. Fiyero finally leans in to kiss Peter, warm and quiet and loving, tasting of sugar and apple and cinnamon already. Giving Peter a preview of the food as well, in a way. But mostly he just wants to take a moment to enjoy the closeness. A thank you for Peter bringing him here, showing him another small wonder, giving him a tasty treat and a good memory to soften everything else.

Peter wishes, more than anything, that this world wasn’t so dangerous for Fiyero. That he could come here during the day when it’s full of people, without Peter (okay, preferably with him, but like, by choice), and be confident in his safety. That he didn’t have to walk around watching out for shadows, where Peter’s tiny shoebox apartment is the only reliable safe space. Fiyero deserves more, he deserves - the world.

It’s so intimate, taking the mask off. Peter forgot, almost, but the sweetness of it aches as Fiyero rolls the mask up, setting the bunch of fabric upon the bridge of his nose with careful fingers. Peter’s tempted to kiss his wrist as it passes by, and he lets the corner of his smile brush the meat of Fiyero’s palm. Fiyero’s hand lingers instead of dropping, and the brief moment of confusion transforms into shy wonder as Fiyero draws him in for a kiss. It feels like it says so much, without having to actually say anything. Apple, cinnamon, and a sweetness that’s purely Fiyero - Peter kisses him back softly, fingers lifting to curl in the front of Fiyero’s jacket.

You’re okay, his kiss says, and Peter lets his lips wander just a little when they part - pressing another gentle kiss yo Fiyero’s cheek. He’s sworn himself to protecting Fiyero, from all harm. Everything he can fight - whether that’s physical, or emotional, with him feeling alone and scared.

“That’s perfect,” Peter murmurs, patting Fiyero’s chest gently. There’s not much room to disentangle far, but Peter gives the pie carton a nudge, encouraging Fiyero to go for it.

It's been a whirlwind of a time here... Fiyero's certainly not used to being in danger. Not at danger of physical harm, from anything except his own stunts. But he's also not used to having someone so wonderful to spend his time with, someone he feels for so deeply, so quickly. He's taking the bad with the good. Being able to see all these things, even if it's with Peter's protection, is more thrilling than anything.

He's not using to feeling this much. He's hardwired to feel shame over his breakdowns, but is it really so strange? Surely there's only so much emotion a person can handle. Maybe that's also why it's spilling out of him through his powers. Or maybe he's feeling so much because of what they did to him. He doesn't know. He's just trying his best to enjoy the good things while they last.

It feels right, if Fiyero was the one to put on Peter's mask, he should be the one to free him from it as well, at least partially. The symbolism isn't lost on him. It feels like taking off someone's armour, or uniform. Unveiling the real person underneath.

The kiss feels almost like a relief, after all the stress and hiding. Well, it may not have been that much or lasted that long, but it felt long. Kissing Peter feels like a clear demarcation that now they're on 'Peter and Fiyero time', enjoying themselves in relative privacy.

Fiyero hums, smiling sweetly as they part, pulling back slowly. "Yes it is," he agrees softly, and his expression confirms it. These small moments of perfection really is what makes everything worth it.

He lets his arm loop around Peter's shoulders, resting on the back of the carriage. Leaning against each other comfortably. He picks up the fork with his other hand at Peter's encouraging, cutting off another bite. With a playful smile, he feeds this bite to Peter first though. Sickeningly sweet and couple-y behaviour, he knows, but who cares? Peter clearly enjoys that stuff, and Fiyero loves doing it for him.

After that, he will make sure to feed himself though, because that is very good pie, and he wants to eat it while it's still warm.

Peter, too, is in a similar position - he’s feeling a lot. Fiyero is inspiring emotions long dormant, things Peter thought were out of his reach forever. Fiyero is, of course, definitely in the wilder situation, but it’s not just the craziness that’s making him feel so deeply. It might be the catalyst for it happening so quickly… but Peter thinks he might have fallen a little bit in love at first sight regardless.

Peter’s grin is visible now, the apples of his cheeks pulling at the bunching of the mask. He settles against Fiyero’s side, legs pretzeled between Fiyero and the side of the carriage. Fiyero’s hand rests against his shoulders, a comforting, warm weight, and Peter laughs warmly before he accepts the forkful of pie with a light scrape of his teeth against the tines.

Yes, perhaps it’s a tad cheesy - but that’s where Peter does some of his best work. Fiyero’s right - he likes doing the little things, the couple-y things. That Fiyero goes out of his way for Peter’s benefit is just… endlessly sweet.

He unwraps his own fork to dig in, webbed, gloved hand joining Fiyero’s in shredding the pie’s flaky crust. It’s just as good as ever, though Peter hasn’t been to that diner in a while. It’s not just the new things Fiyero is bringing into his life that are enabling Peter to be so besotted; it’s the reminders of the old joys, too. One’s he’s been ignoring for far too long.

“That was a lot, tonight.” Peter breaks the silence gently, after a bout of peace where the wind whistles through the park and the pie steams between them. Peter tilts his head, unmoving lenses fixed on Fiyero; but his mouth is more expressive, drawing in a concerned slant. It’s a bizarre picture, but it’s still Peter, underneath it all. Just the two of them, with the good and the bad. “Are you okay?”

It's a comfortable quiet, just the two of them digging in, relaxing against each other. Fiyero can hear the light wind too, but he's sure Peter can hear things a million miles away. At least they don't have to worry about anyone sneaking up on them. Well, at least unless Fiyero distracts him with more kisses. But he'll at least wait until they've finished eating, and mostly he'd prefer to do that at home.

Fiyero looks up as Peter breaks the silence, always a little surprised to see that mask staring back at him, even if it's just the top half. He can't see Peter's eyes, just those lenses aimed at him, but he can imagine the concerned look they have to match his mouth. He looks back down at the pie at the question, considering.

"I suppose I am," he answers softly, trying to avoid simply dismissing his concern. But truly, it's hard to know how he's feeling, and it's not exactly easy to talk about it either. He's hanging in there? He feels good now, or at least he was until Peter asked. And even now, it feels a bit more distant. "It did seem to go alright? I mean, they agreed to help, and they didn't ask too many questions."

Peter doesn't want to break the peace - he truly, truly doesn't. But that's another one of his skills - doing things he very much does not want to. That he has to. But hopefully in such a way that it's not all bad.

"It's okay if you're not." Peter reaches over to squeeze Fiyero's hand, thumb lingering against his wrist. He's not trying to press - just letting Fiyero know he's there for him. "But yeah, I think it went well. They know it's... delicate. Difficult. But I think they also trust that we're telling the truth, and that's the most important thing. They'll let us get away with the omission as long as they know that's true."

Which, frankly, is fair. Neither of them have seen Peter's face, or know his real name. Sometimes Peter wonders if maybe Daredevil might have guessed by now, but he's never said anything, so they've never addressed it either way.

"And I do believe they can help." Peter offers a smile, picking up another forkful of pie. "I've worked with them before. Having backup doesn't hurt anything, you know? I trust them."

Fiyero knows that Peter thinks it's okay if he's not okay. That he'll be there if Fiyero falls apart. That he won't judge or blame him. But there's also the part of him that knows, irrationally and against all evidence, that this time Peter will have had enough, or think he's weak or disappointing or not good enough, if Fiyero doesn't stay strong. It's why he appreciates the reminder, that Peter reassures him, explicitly. To help quiet that voice.

He nods as Peter talks, watching his pie more than Peter. After a moment, pulling his hand away just to take another bite, as Peter does the same thing. Even if his appetite tends to flee at conversations like this, he wants to do something with his hands and his mouth. At least Peter is eating too. It's become something of a mission to make sure he does.

Fiyero really doesn't mistrust their intentions or their ability to help. If Peter trust them, Fiyero has no reason not to. And clearly they need allies. If nothing else, to give Peter a break. He can't be everywhere at once, and Fiyero would like to actually spend some quality time with him as well, without feeling too guilty about not working to try to fix things, or keeping Peter away from his other responsibilities.

"You think they noticed? When I..." Fiyero trails off nervously. Peter clearly noticed something, so Fiyero would rather not say it out loud. He expects Peter to ask why and what happened and all that, so he's deciding to broach it so Peter doesn't have to be the one to bring it up. Well, and because.. he would like to know. If that's something they should be concerned about.

Peter watches him, though it's not so obvious with his mask still on, and the way his head is tipped down to the pie. Fiyero does seem alright, which is heartening. It means they can tackle this together, as a team. Relying on each other, in all ways, is the only way through - and if Fiyero is confident enough to rely on him, Peter wants to do his best to be there.

"Daredevil might have." Peter admits, pushing a flake of crust around with his fork before he scoops it up, popping the sugary goo into his mouth. He's glad Fiyero is bringing it up - it makes it feel less taboo, indicating that Fiyero is ready to talk about it, despite how fraught it is. If they can do that, maybe it can get better. Maybe they can start to deal with it, and make some progress.

Peter knows they're going to need to, if they have any chance of pulling off what he hopes to against Oscorp.

"I don't think either of them clocked it too hard. And I discouraged them from asking any further questions." Peter taps his fork idly against the carton, thinking over it. It's almost like Fiyero's influence could be chalked up to a blind spot, with the way it functions. Luckily it wasn't more overt. "I... can't say I understand what happened, exactly. Like, what... sparked it? Do you know, or did it just... happen?"

It's not exactly great that it keeps happening without Fiyero's conscious thought. In a high-stress situation, it made more sense, but it seems like it's happening more and more. Or is Peter just getting better at noticing it? Is it just because it wasn't affecting him? He has so many questions, and they know relatively little by comparison.

Fiyero's not thrilled to hear Daredevil might have noticed - but he's also glad Peter isn't lying about it. He really is earning the trust that Fiyero dares to put in him when it comes to these things. He's reassuring Fiyero, without pretending like everything is totally fine. At least what he's saying matches up with what Fiyero's impression was at the time... Or at least he thinks so. He was pretty stressed out.

"Um..." he answers at the question. He's not sure how to phrase it, but... "It wasn't intentional. I just remember wanting them to stop laughing at you, and.. they did."

He feels immediately slightly awkward at the fact he included the 'at you' bit, like that's an almost embarrassing detail. Maybe he could have chalked it up to the stress of the situation, being overwhelmed by their laughing and joking, but... No, it really was because it felt like they were teasing Peter. He can't deny that to himself.

"Oh." Peter's not sure what he expected, but that's certainly different. He sits up a little straighter beneath Fiyero's arm, turning that over in his mind. He hadn't even registered it at the time, beyond the usual bickering that happened when New York's Sassiest Vigilantes got together.

"They didn't... mean anything by it." Peter's tone is gentle, hand lowering to squeezes Fiyero's knee lightly. He can feel the heat rising in his own cheeks, slowly connecting it back to their conversation form before. Fiyero didn't mean anything by it either, and if Peter had been in a better headspace - like he is now, when he's just baseline - it would have been different. "But..."

"I appreciate you looking out for me," His smile is small, but genuine, and Peter bumps their shoulders together again, tucking himself against Fiyero's side more intentionally.

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