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 ]

Peter appreciates the assistance, because there's a moment where he's almost not sure what to do - where the free will floods back in, because the nonverbal instructions weren't particularly defined, and it's disorienting - doing something involuntarily like that. It's not a bad feeling, necessarily, but it does explain why people keep stopping and blinking in the wake of Fiyero's powers.

"Sorry," Peter finally settles on after a beat, sounding slightly breathless. He pauses, and it's hard to gauge what he's thinking, with only his jaw visible. At least it doesn't look tight, thick with tension - just contemplative, like he's still processing what just happened. "That was... how did you do that?"

His tone isn't accusatory - it's awed, fascination evident. No, Peter doesn't find it overly disturbing - of course, it's obvious that powers like Fiyero's could be used for truly terrible things, but it's also true that any kind of power could be utilized to such ends. What matters is what Fiyero actually chooses to do with his gifts.

Fiyero's hand still rests against Peter, coming to settle on his shoulder instead, the other one still gently wrapped around his wrist. Like he's just as much keeping Peter there as he is holding him at bay. There is, as always, a hint of nervousness at just having done something like that, like he's still scared Peter is going to pull away in fear or disgust.

But Peter was literally just saying that they should find a way to practice together, and that Peter trusts him, and Fiyero obviously stopped it immediately, so it's fine. Still, there's that shiver down his spine, something unsettled in his stomach whenever he does something like that. The way the world feels briefly sharper.

Peter apologises, and Fiyero smiles with a huff, shaking his head as if to say he has nothing to apologise for. He doesn't say anything though, just waiting for Peter's reaction.

"I, uh.. I don't know," Fiyero answers, giving a sheepish smile. His hand moves up to fiddle with the neckline of Peter's suit, touching his neck nervously. "Just sort of do it." He licks his lips, considering, having had a moment to actually try to feel it as well. "I mean, you don't really think about using your muscles, right? You just sort of do it," he adds, letting go of Peter's wrist to lift his hand, flexing his fingers as a demonstration.

"I suppose not," Peter snorts quietly, still with an air of being impressed. He is, honestly; it's one thing to know Fiyero's powers can act up when he's in a heightened state, and another to feel it directed so intently. He allows a hand to drop, resting reassuringly against Fiyero's thigh, squeezing encouragingly when Fiyero offers him a smile. He doesn't interrupt Fiyero's fidgeting, allowing Fiyero to touch him, unimpeded.

"Can you do it again?" Peter asks, curious. He tilts his head, lips pulling in a comforting smile. "Try something... different."

Peter leans in, pressing an innocent kiss to Fiyero's cheek, though he does let his head tip to murmur in his ear, teasing and light. "Something I don't already spend every minute of my time with you trying to resist, hm?"

He pulls back, watching Fiyero expectantly - wondering what it will feel like. If he'll be able to resist it, knowing that it's coming. How does the strength of Fiyero's compulsions work? Is it tied to the intensity of his emotions, or simply how much he desires the change? Fiyero didn't seem to be in a particularly harsh mood, but maybe it was a combination of factors.

...see, he doesn't even have his notebook, but he's still ideating.

"Mind wrestle me." Peter grins, lifting a hand to tangle his fingers with Fiyero's, capturing the flexing digits. He fits their palms together, letting them drop into their collective lap - proof that he's not going anywhere, no matter how weird it gets.

Peter's fine and they're alright, and that's reassuring, the way he's still touching him with comfort and affection. It soothes the worry, and it also lets Fiyero know that Peter really is here to help Fiyero through it. It may be something he's gained through unpleasant circumstances, but whatever happens with it, Peter is here to back him up.

He gives an uncertain noise at the question of whether he can do it again. Maybe. Something different though... Even as Fiyero's trying to think of something, he's distracted by the way Peter leans in, flirting right into his ear, saying how much he wants to kiss Fiyero. It's a little difficult to think of anything he wants besides that right now, admittedly.

Fiyero huffs with amusement as Peter tells him to mind wrestle, Fiyero squeezing Peter's hand a little, grateful for how supportive he is in this.

He stares out at the dark of the park, trying to think of something he could try to make Peter do. Something he'd want, right? He's not sure he can make himself want anything except what's happening right now, that's the problem. For a moment he tries to imagine Peter singing or something, something ridiculous that he wouldn't just do. But nothing happens - he can feel nothing happening.

So he looks over at Peter again, once again met with that silly mask, the two bulbous reflecting eyes covering up Peter's real eyes, which he already misses seeing - and he just barely manages to catch that thought as it flows by, yes, that's something he wants, for Peter to take off his mask so Fiyero can see his face. Whether it's strong enough to actually do anything, he doesn't know - but if nothing else, Fiyero does feel that shiver run through him, subtly, like something itchy inside his veins.

They're a team, and they'll handle this the way they have everything else so far - together, facing it head on. Of all the mistakes they might have made before, trying to figure things out alone seems to have been the biggest one, for both of them. At least, by Peter's estimation; talking to each other, supporting each other, it's their biggest asset. Oscorp brought Fiyero here and set him loose for unknown reasons, but they expected Fiyero to be wholly alone, on his own in this strange world. It's the one thing that can't really be accounted for.

Their tangled hands fall into their lap, and Peter idly fidgets with them, thumb sweeping against Fiyero's knuckles. He tries to sit there, receptive - will it start subtle, or at the same level as before? How will he know, if it's subtle? Oh, jeez, he's been in his own head about it too much - zoning out on Fiyero's profile, Peter feels his nose start to itch, right on the bridge where his mask is just pulled over it. He twitches it, trying to get rid of it - not wanting to take off the mask any further just for a casual scratch.

...but it doesn't abate, and Peter catches his hand creeping up towards the mask as Fiyero stares at him, and it dawns on him what he's feeling - that push, the fact that it's not a real prickle, but a phantom one created by his incredibly powerful boyfriend. It doesn't make it any less real, less maddening, even as Peter tests his own resolve - tries to fortify himself, squaring his shoulders back against the seat and the warm line of Fiyero next to him. No. I'm not going to do it. I don't have to.

He thinks he could resist, if he had to. If he really, really wanted to - but it is more effort than he would have realized before, and Peters lets the opposition go after a beat of squirming. Something to explore later, when they're well-rested and ready to test this more thoroughly. One hand quickly reaches up to shuck the mask, hair flying every which way in a chaotic, staticky mess. The volume of it is almost shocking, too, unexpected with how smooth the suit is, like it shouldn't all reasonably fit.

As soon as it's off, the compulsion to itch his nose disappears. Peter feels that hollow wash again - free will returning, the urge to put the mask back on strong; that hunted, anxious voice at the back of his head reminding him that it's never safe to expose himself at ground level - before breaking out into an impressed smile. "Woah, 'yero."

Fiyero watches as Peter's hand lifts, the way he pauses, like he's resisting. Fiyero's not sure which urge is stronger, the desire to do what Peter is asking him to, to show off what he can do, to try to tame these powers? Or the driving desire, the one that chose the direction, the desire to see Peter's eyes, to see his face fully?

Either way, it doesn't fade, and Fiyero manages to keep pushing, not even sure how he's doing it. It's like he's clenching something in his core, making his breath tight for a moment, not sure if that's actually part of it or simply something he's doing because he's consciously trying.

It's not a surprise when Peter finally reaches up - but the mess of hair does catch him a little by surprise. He lets out a huff at the comedy at it, and even as he feels that slight queasiness, he can't help but smile at seeing Peter's face properly.

The journey Peter's face takes is amusing too, that squint turning to a blank, slightly lost look, then something anxious, and then a beaming smile. Fiyero's not sure what to make of all that, his own expression perhaps mirroring Peter's journey a little, but it's difficult not to want to smile when Peter smiles.

"I missed your face.." Fiyero explains, and it's maybe unnecessarily sappy. He reaches up with his free hand, brushing through Peter's hair with his fingers a couple times, before his hand settles on Peter's cheek, leaning in to give him a kiss now there's no mask in the way to stop him from seeing Peter's eyes up close as he leans in. He doesn't really need any sort of compulsion to kiss Peter, it's true. He's lucky enough that he can simply just do that.

"What, this old thing?" Peter makes a joke out of it, keeping things light. Fiyero's powers are obviously a very fraught subject, or have been up until this point, and Peter knows it can't be easy for Fiyero to address them like this. For as long as they can keep things easy, Peter will do his best to do so.

He can't help but feel a twinge of guilty relief, underneath it all. Maybe this is only comparatively easy because these are things Fiyero wants anyway - things he knows he can have, that Peter's resistance is largely performative - but the idea that Fiyero could employ his powers to stop someone from attacking him is not an unwelcome one.

"Let me guess," Peter smiles into the kiss, returning it sweetly. He tucks their tangled hands into his side, keeping them warm - without the mask, the sting of the cold air is fresh, losing the heat in his face he'd managed to keep with the mask on. "It was the eyebrows, wasn't it?"

He waggles them teasingly, big, bushy brows drawing low over chocolatey brown eyes. Fiyero's gaze is even more vibrant without the lenses tinting the world darker - it helps Peter focus, dulling the input when he's moving at a million miles an hour, barrelling down the city streets - but it makes the world seem loud by comparison. Peter leans in to bump their noses together, wordlessly affectionate.

"We'll practice more later," Peter promises, breath warm between them. It's as much about sharing heat as it is how much they share the space as well. "We've probably got...mm, ten minutes? Should spend at least five of those kissing my boyfriend, necking like teenagers."

"Feeding you pie," He free hand finds one of the forks to raise it in offering, gooey apple speared on it. Peter's eyes crinkle at the corners, that soft, besotted look saved solely for Fiyero. No interference required. "You know, all the perks."

Edited (DON'T LOOK AT MEEEE) 2026-03-02 17:35 (UTC)

Fiyero grins at Peter's stupid jokes, the way he's making sure to keep things light and easy. It doesn't solve the queasy feeling in his stomach, the way his veins feel strangely cold. It doesn't solve the worry or the guilt or the violated feeling at having been changed like this in the first place. But it does make it a lot easier to face all that. And that matters.

At least there's not an issue of Fiyero wanting to stay safe. Depending on how he ends up doing it, it may make him feel like shit. But wanting to not be kidnapped and experimented on, well. There's few things he has more motivation for, really.

Sitting here like this, it's a little easier to forget that that's the purpose of this, or at least part of it. Peter's kisses and stupid jokes and adorable smile is like a warm blanket against worries like that, and there's a smile stuck to Fiyero's face, his eyes crinkled up with warmth.

"Yes, definitely," Fiyero agrees about the eyebrows, hand moving up a little so he can stroke one of Peter's eyebrows with his thumb.

He definitely feels a relief about Peter deciding that's enough practice. He's already feeling strange about it - physically, and mentally. He doesn't want to make it worse, not when they're having such a nice time. He chuckles warmly at Peter's plans of kissing, although the word 'necking' grants him a slightly confused look.

Fiyero accepts the bite of pie, but even with Peter's adorably heart-shaped eyes, he finds his appetite has waned. "You have the rest," he says after swallowing. "Make sure you've got energy to not crash us on the way home," he teases. "And I'll cover the kissing." With that, he leans in to nuzzle against Peter's neck, covering it with soft little kisses.

Peter's heart does something complicated in his chest when Fiyero's thumb grazes over his eyebrow, smoothing out a few out of place strands of hair. It's not the kissing or the sex that gets him - though it's all, without a doubt, completely fantastic - but it's the little intimate moments that hit him the hardest. Fiyero reaching for him, taking possession of him the way he's already taken possession of Peter's heart, all of his waking thoughts. It's hard to remember what he was even doing before Fiyero came into his life, what else he was occupying his time with. Sure, patrols and work were a routine, but what was he doing?

Nothing. Endless nothing, just waiting for the day he took a few too many hits and went down for the last time.

Peter smiles and just shakes his head, gaze softening at the gentle confusion. There is plenty to be confused about, Peter finds, but maybe he's a nerd - he likes that. He likes figuring things out, and however scary this must be for Fiyero - Peter's just grateful he gets to be here to help him through it.

"I would never crash with a VIP customer on board." Peter doesn't need to be told twice, scooping up a forkful of pie for himself. He pops it in his mouth, easily digging in, tucking the bite in his cheek like the ridiculous spider-chipmunk he is. "Are you trying to make me fat? It's workin-hey!"

Peter devolves into laughter when Fiyero nuzzles at him, shivering pleasantly and squirming in his seat. There's not much room to go anywhere to escape, unless he were to get up, and why would Peter want to be anywhere else? It's ticklish in a light, fun way, and Peter retaliates with a sugar-sweet kiss to Fiyero's temple, jutting his arm at an angle to keep the pie fork out of Fiyero's sweater. "...okay, you're pretty good at that - "

Fiyero's the same, when it comes to what really gets to his heart. Kissing is nothing special, although kissing Peter is just by the sheer fact it's Peter. The sex, yeah, that's been a mind-blowing road of discovery all of its own. It's not just the intimate moments though, the little gestures of affection and closeness and trust. It's how Peter knows him, accepts him, encourages him. Peter wants Fiyero to be himself, fully and safely. That's what really has Fiyero's heart.

He wants the same for Peter too, and he also wants Peter to be safe and happy and take care of himself in ways he doesn't seem to have done in a long time. And yeah, forcing him to eat pie is part of that.

"I'd like you fat," Fiyero answers playfully, smile and hot breath against Peter's neck, his hand sliding around the back to weave into Peter's hair. "Would mean you actually ate enough."

He keeps pressing soft little kisses against Peter's neck, up along the underside of his jaw, right below his ear... Just showering him in quiet little affection, not truly trying to distract him from the food, but possibly having that effect anyway. And probably also distracting him from the guard that's making an early walk up the path towards their spot...

"I honestly don't know if it's physically possible for me to keep up with my metabolism," Peter jokes, obligingly digging into the pie, enjoying the snuggling. The air is taking on the bite of winter, especially at this hour of the morning - it will worsen into the morning dew, eventually morning frost. But they'll keep each other warm, be it here, tucked against one another, or at home in their bed. Their bed. It belongs as much to Fiyero just as Peter does. "You do love to see me try, though."

Fiyero's lips are very distracting, mostly from how pleasant everything feels. Not just the thrill of having someone he cares about close to him, blanketing him with gentle affection, but also the physical input. The goosebumps that rise on his skin, a mix of cold and the tickle of Fiyero's warmth in contrast, hot, little kisses searing into his skin. The sugary pie, just as sweet on his tongue - Peter clears about two thirds of the remaining pie before he's sufficiently distracted, tilting his head to allow Fiyero as much room in his neck as he wants to claim, for the visible patch of skin between his messy hair and the skintight neckline of the suit.

In retrospect, it was unbelievably stupid of them to be doing this out in the open.

"Fiyero - " Peter murmurs, turning his head to try and coax him into a kiss, when his spider sense activates. Lights up like a Christmas tree, and Peter suddenly goes rigid in the seat, stiffening against Fiyero's side. His mask. Fuck, he can hear footsteps - there's not enough time.

"Hey!" The guard has caught sight of them now as he approaches, and Peter curls in closer, drawing the sweater around himself that Fiyero had wrapped him in, trying his best to keep all of the red and blue out of sight. If the guard makes them get up - and he surely will, he sounds pissed - it's game over. Peter's hands disappear into the space between the two of them, hidden in Fiyero's coat. Peter's eyes are wide as he looks up at Fiyero, panicked - they both know he's not a great liar, and in this moment, he has no idea how to get out of this.

Fiyero's enjoying snuggling into Peter's neck, keeping his face warm, partly by his own breath. Even his hand isn't that cold, his fingers hidden deep in Peter's fluffy hair. He could stay like this for ages, it's a fantastic distraction from everything scary and serious. He's kissed every inch of his skin several times by now, some of the time just snuggling against him, resting.

He doesn't notice the guard until he speaks up. What he does notice is Peter's sudden tension, like a second-hand spider sense just from being close to him like this. It's only at the voice that he realises the reason, and Fiyero's eyes dart over to the guard, then back at Peter's panicked face.

Peter clearly has no idea what to do.

Lucky for him, this right here? Getting caught somewhere you're not supposed to be, snuggling and flirting with someone? This is practically Fiyero's speciality. For once he's not the one panicking - or at least not more than he can handle. Fiyero quickly squeezes Peter's knee reassuringly.

"This place is off-limits!" the guard yells, a short, squat man with a big mustache, practically the stereotype of grumpy old guard. He's kind of jogging to get over to them - they could easily outrun the guard, but that's not really the problem. Fiyero's hand is on the problem, which is Peter's suit.

"Sorry, sorry!" Fiyero says, standing up and holding out a calming hand. Drawing the guard's eyes to him, not to Peter. "Sorry, we didn't mean any harm."

"It's still off-limits. Come on, get out of there," the guard orders gruffly - but maybe slightly less angry than he was a moment ago. Fiyero is doing his best to try to impose calming vibes, to make the guard relax, to know this isn't a threat, not a problem, they're gonna leave, it's all good, all fine, they didn't break anything. Just calm down. "Come on, out you go," he says, gesturing with a flashlight.

"Right, yes, we'd love to," Fiyero answers, still with his hands out, like trying to calm a wild animal. "It's just.. We were having a romantic little moment, so could you please, just give my boyfriend a moment to put his trousers back on."

The guard blinks at him, and Fiyero tries to tell him, turn around, just give them a moment. And the guard does, huffing and turning to look off towards the tress. "Just hurry up! You're not supposed to be there," he says, his voice having taken on a different kind of tension, far more awkward now. But given Peter's panicked look and the way he remained seated, it was probably fairly convincing. Fiyero gives the backpack a little kick towards Peter.

Peter's trying to figure out how they can escape - did the guard see his face? Could he whip his mask on fast enough to get them out of there? There's nowhere to web away to, trapped in the tight space of the carousel. Peter's brow knits in frustration, fear evident as his gaze cuts up to Fiyero when he squeezes his knee. Fiyero, who doesn't seem nearly as worried about the fact that Peter is dangerously close to getting arrested for far more than some harmless late night trespassing.

"Fiyero," Peter hisses, voice low, as the guard huffs and puffs his way over to them and Fiyero slides out of the carriage, away from him. Away from any potential grab-and-run scheme Peter had half-baked in the back of his mind - he carefully keeps his gloves hands out of view, refraining from reaching, fingers pressing indents into the seat by accident. He ducks his head, trying to keep the guard from getting a good look at his face, just in case it all goes pear-shaped. Fuck. Fuck.

...but Fiyero handles it - albeit with a hideously embarrassing excuse - but beggars can't be choosers, and it certainly beats attempted arrest. Peter looks up, surprised, when the guard turns away, and quickly scrambles for the backpack.

Quickchanging in small spaces is something of a skill for him at this point, and Peter manages to wrestle on the pair of sweats whilst still in the carriage, cinching them tight to avoid any potential peek of red and blue beneath. He ensures the sweater is bundled tightly over his chest, wishing he had brought a hoodie to hide in, and hastily stuffs the pie in the backpack as he slings the bag over his shoulder so he can hop off the carousel.

"Sorry," Peter says, cheeks red, sidling up next to Fiyero. He threads their fingers together and ducks his head again - both out of embarrassment, and a genuine desire to hide his identity as much as possible, just in case. It's not the worst of his embarrassing moments by a long shot, but it's still not exactly dignified, having this man think he was getting a handjob on a public carousel. "Sorry, sir."

"Don't let it happen again. I should write you both up for public indecency." The guard turns back around, suitably annoyed, though he seems to have written Peter off, addressing Fiyero more directly out of the two of them. "Plenty of other places in this city that aren't here for - that kind of thing."

Fiyero wonders how much of this is his powers, and how much is just the excuse itself. It has the unfortunate side-effect of embarrassing Peter, but embarrassing the target really is the goal. Nothing like derailing a scolding by making someone feel terribly awkward. If Fiyero can't charm someone, that's always a terrific second option. It might not work on everyone, but it usually works on stuff like this.

He keeps his focus mostly on the guard, stepping a little in front of the little carriage to block the view as much as possible, distracting in case he looks over. He only glances over when Peter gets out of the carriage, sliding up to take his hand.

"So sorry for your trouble, sir," Fiyero says, starting to step away, holding Peter's hand tight. He can't quite keep the amusement out of his voice, fighting a smile. It's funny! And it looks like they're getting away with it, which means the hilarity of the situation is outweighing the worry. "We'll get out of your hair. Have a lovely evening."

Ever charming, of course, though the guard mostly huffs. Which is a lot better than things might have gone. Fiyero thinks maybe he can tell a tiny smile there though... Maybe it's his own amusement bleeding over, in his effort to influence him, or maybe the guard does find it funny too. Either way, Fiyero gives Peter a nod, eyes crinkled and lips pressed together from his suppressed amusement, and they hurry off together.

Is it Fiyero’s powers, or is he just that charming? Did they get a lucky break, with the guard being annoyed but still letting them go with the simplest of warnings, or was it Fiyero’s influence? No matter the answer, Peter doesn’t have enough space to analyze it right now - he’s too caught up in getting them out of there as quickly as possible, and being grateful it wasn’t worse.

“Sorry, again,” Peter clears his throat, which probably just makes him sound even sketchier, and bumps his shoulder against Fiyero’s side when he can see the laughter there, beneath the surface. It’s funny to him because he’s not the one allegedly getting his dick out by the wooden horses!

The guard watches them, satisfied, as Peter quickly drags Fiyero out of there - stumbling a little, eager to disappear into the night.

“I can’t believe you got away with that,” Peter murmurs, chancing a glance back over his shoulder - the security guard is a silhouette against the bright oasis of the carousel. “Narrowly avoided getting us banned from there for life!”

Peter raises a hand to scrub at his cheeks, as if that might wipe the experience away, quickly tucking it back into his coat to hide the signature red and blue. “I think it’s the accent. People let you get away with murder!”

Making a joke out of it helps lessen his embarrassment, to be sure, but it also helps cut the tension - the obvious question being, did Fiyero use his powers?

Whether he did or not, Peter’s words remain the same.

“Thank you,” Peter squeezes Fiyero’s hand gratefully, relaxing the further they get from the guard. “Thank you for helping me back there.”

It's probably a little of everything, but Fiyero is certainly not analysing it right now. He's too busy fully snickering at they get some distance. It is funny!

And in fairness, Peter may have supposedly been getting his dick out, but Fiyero was supposedly the one doing it. It's not a good look for either of them, but Fiyero got to choose his own embarrassment, at the very least. Given how the neck kissing was going, they should count themselves lucky there wasn't any truth to the excuse.

Fiyero fully laughs as Peter says he can't believe Fiyero got away with it. "Good thing I don't have any murder plans," he quips right back, bumping his shoulder against Peter's to cheer him and try to lessen his embarrassment. It's a fun rush of adrenaline, and the joy of getting away with it.

"You're welcome, darling," Fiyero answers, giving his hand a squeeze in return, and a much softer smile than the giddy, naughty pride he's been filled with. "You looked like you were staring off the edge of a cliff. Except not really, because you jump off buildings all the time - like a normal person would look down a cliff," he continues, laughing good-naturedly.

"I'd have to web you up and turn you over to the police," Peter's lips curl in a smile, easing back into the easy, jovial mood from before at the unrestrained sound of Fiyero's genuine laugh. It doesn't make everything better - but doesn't it, though? Just a little bit? "That would really put a damper on date night."

"It would be... bad." Peter shakes his head, stuffing his free hand in the sweater pocket to run his thumb over the edge of the mask. He doesn't know how it would go for sure, of course, but he knows it wouldn't be good. "If people found out who I am, beneath the mask. People have died, because I - I mean - May would be in danger. You would be in danger, even more than you already are."

Of course the fear was never for himself.

"We make a good team, though." Peter leads them through the park, traipsing their way back towards the street, and the tall buildings that will ferry them home. It's time, and later than Peter had intended. Curling up in bed sounds mighty fine to him. He smiles, tilting his head to glance over at Fiyero, a little flash of red peeking out from his collar. "No one I'd rather have, watching my six."

Fiyero laughs at Peter's joke about an arrest ruining date night. He's pretty sure if Fiyero did murder somebody, arrest wouldn't be Peter's first option, given Fiyero doesn't legally exist in this world. He also doesn't think Peter would do that. Partly because both of them know, if Fiyero murdered somebody, there would be a pretty damn good reason for it. But even that is so far-fetched that the idea of it is just funny.

He does sober a little when Peter talks about what would happen if people found out about his other life. "I know," Fiyero answers, softer, giving Peter's hand a squeeze of reassurance. He wouldn't let that happen either. Peter might be able to handle himself if push comes to shove, but he deserves to have a somewhat normal life alongside it. And Fiyero's already in so much danger it hardly feels like it would make a difference. But they both agree they want to protect May. He may be laughing about his excuse, but he does take the consequences seriously.

They're in normal clothes now though, so Fiyero is leaving the scouting mostly to Peter. He is pretty exhausted, all things considered, and as the adrenaline and the laughter fades, he definitely feels the wear of a long, exhausting day, even with the good, long nap. Maybe he should have had more of that pie after all, because he does feel a tiny bit light-headed.

"Your six...?" he asks, gentle confusion as usual when Peter uses a term he doesn't recognise. Maybe he could have figured it out if he wasn't starting to get tired.

Peter smiles, softly at first, though it grows wider as Fiyero squeezes his hand. It may be a ridiculous situation, but he knows that Fiyero takes his warnings seriously. Even if Fiyero doesn’t know all of the details, about Gwen, about everything - which Peter privately worries may need to come sooner rather than later, preferably never, with Oscorp breathing down their necks - he trusts Peter, doesn’t write him off as a worrywart. When Fiyero saw how Peter had been caught off guard, how panicked he was - he’d slipped smoothly into action to relieve the distress. The same way Peter would for him, and in a way Peter is wholly unused to being on the receiving end of.

They reach the edge of the sidewalk, where the park pavement merges back into the city, the warm glow of the streetlights welcoming them back up to the road. It’s quiet at this hour - just a few cars waiting at for the light to turn, a couple of drunk college kids across the street, heading back into the city. Peter pauses there, tugging Fiyero into the circle of his arms - one arm hugging Fiyero at the waist, the other bringing Fiyero’s hand up to his cheek, cupping it against his jaw and neck.

“Looking out for me.” Fiyero’s hand is warm, and Peter’s cheeks are flush from the cold, the vestiges of embarrassment, and the very real warmth that can only be inspired by Fiyero’s presence. A fond gaze settles on Fiyero’s, seeing the tiredness, the affection, the confusion and care, all mixed up there - and all for Peter. “Watching my back.”

He gives Fiyero’s palm a playful kiss, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Home?”

Fiyero hasn't had quite as many opportunities to protect Peter, but he's done his best whenever the opportunity did come. Comforting him after a nightmare. Protecting him from someone trying to drug him. Making sure he gets paid what he's worth. Reassuring him from his own insecurities. Pretending Fiyero was giving him a handjob to avoid his secret identity being found out... Well, you know, whatever it takes, whatever form it may come in.

And clearly they've had plenty of proof that they need to be worrywarts. They've occasionally been a bit too lax, in fact. But even if Peter's fear about being found out was partially unfounded, and it wouldn't be that bad - well. Peter was still scared. No matter how silly it had been, that alone would have made Fiyero want to protect him.

Watching his size, as Fiyero smiles as Peter explains the meaning, embracing him. He leans in easily, letting his weight fall against Peter, his other arm looping around Peter's waist. The way Peter kisses his palm makes him feel all pleasantly gooey inside, even now.

He nods at the question of home. He's definitely ready to curl up in bed. "I do like watching your back.." he adds, his hand sliding down from Peter's back to give his ass a quick, playful squeeze, before he prepares to get picked up. Putting on his gloves again, tucking in his scarf, all that. And of course, letting Peter get changed.

Fiyero does so much for him, things Peter would have never even thought to imagine needing or wanting. He can only hope that the efforts he's gone to in return have been enough to make Fiyero feel the same kind of devotion - and reapply himself to the task every day he gets to spend at Fiyero's side, for however long that may be.

Peter laughs at the quick ass grab, the sound far too loud and unabashed, but there's no one around to chastise them. He can't help it; Fiyero is constantly surprising him, keeping him on his toes and letting life be fun again, even if it can be scary, at the same time.

The light changes as Fiyero prepares himself to swing home, and the cars disappear down the street, the college kids fading out past even Peter's hearing. He glances around surreptitiously before quickly shedding the sweater and pulling on the mask - to the untrained eye, it almost looks like one movement, the way he swings the backpack over his shoulder and practically shrugs the sweater straight into it. The pants are easy enough to step out of, and Peter straightens up, bounding on the balls of his feet, to offer Fiyero the bag again.

He turns around, looping his arms casually for Fiyero to climb aboard, as is their standard way by this point. Peter's also glad Fiyero likes swinging - or tolerates it, anyway, but given that he hasn't really heard any complaints so far, Peter's going to tentatively say Fiyero likes it. There aren't exactly a lot of reasons for Peter not to curse his powers and all the trouble that came along with them, but swinging through the city is certainly number one, if he were to make a list. Getting to share that and have Fiyero - wonderful, handsome, funny, endlessly kind Fiyero - know that part of him is... gratifying.

"Well, don't just watch." Peter gives Fiyero a little shimmy, shaking his hips teasingly and just being an idiot, now, grinning beneath the mask.

Fiyero has much the same experience, in that he never could have imagined a relationship like this, or being given the kind of care and acceptance he's been given. Ever since they got together, he hasn't exactly been lacking in feeling devotion from Peter. The moment they decided to be truthful about their feelings, there was no turning back.

And it's such a joy, to be able to make Peter laugh like that, so soon after he was looking at him with outright panic. It's satisfying, to say the least, to know he can bring that joy to Peter.

He's impressed by how quickly Peter changes, though he does make sure to glance around for anyone nearby that Peter might have missed. But there's no one, not even in the windows of the nearby buildings, so Fiyero accepts the backpack, pulling it on snug.

"Don't rush the VIP," Fiyero teases right back, going to climb onto Peter's back. He gives him a quick poke in his side just for good measure. In truth, he's still feeling a bit lightheaded from.. everything? He's not sure. So it took him a moment to catch up to Peter being ready for him to climb on.

He grips on tight, but he can't help but feel just a little nervous about his strength at the moment. It's not that he feels that bad, just.. not as secure as usual. "Hold onto my arm?" he requests softly, slightly muffled against Peter's neck.

Peter tips his head back, letting it bump affectionately against Fiyero's as the settle, ensuring Fiyero is seated properly on his back, evenly balanced. Fiyero's grip is snug, but there's a thread of genuine worry in his voice - maybe from being tired, Peter assumes, and the knowledge that they're about to be suspended quite high in the air.

"Always," Peter promises, gloved hand sliding up Fiyero's thigh, squeezing him firmly. The last thing Peter will ever allow is for Fiyero to fall, on his watch, for so very many reasons - even the idea of Fiyero falling... he wouldn't be able to bear it.

Peter takes a few running bounds, directly into the street - there are no cars nearby, or at least not close enough to be a danger. He launches them into the air with a well-placed websling from both wrists, feeling the tension catch, pull, and snap to send them flying. One hand comes up to Fiyero's arm, stuck fast, immovable, per his request.

City lights pass them by as Peter directs them back across the water, swinging expediently towards home. He's unhurried - there's no urgency, of course, just the natural itch to get home; something Peter is still getting used to. He hasn't had a reason to want to spend time in the apartment alone... just add it to the list of little, mundane things Fiyero has been teaching him to appreciate.

He switches sides smoothly, never allowing his hands to fully leave Fiyero, muscles shifting as he redirects their momentum to make a turn. Swinging is a full body exercise, but even with Fiyero's weight, Peter doesn't seem to be breaking a sweat. The buildings soon become familiar, as they weave their way back to the apartment - until Peter is landing back on the same roof they launched from, a wide swing landing them neatly just a few floors down from the roof, clinging with one hand and the balls of his feet.

Peter straightens to stand horizontally, letting go of the wall with his hand so he can reach back to support Fiyero as he walks the rest of the way up the wall, like gravity is simply a suggestion. He lets Fiyero down once they're safely on top of the roof, patting Fiyero's thigh gently. "Spidey Express, final stop."

Edited 2026-03-04 08:45 (UTC)

Fiyero doesn't easily express concern or need for protection, reluctant to show vulnerability a lot of the time. But Peter doesn't call attention to it, he just acknowledges it and then follows up with doing exactly as requested. Fiyero recognises that iron grip, not tight or painful, but still immovable. Even if Fiyero did get light-headed and his grip slipped, Peter could hold him just by the arm if need be. He's safe.

There's no need though, as Fiyero manages to hold on fine enough, and Peter's swings are smooth and intentional, not jostling him unnecessarily. Fiyero buries his face against Peter's shoulder again, squinting against the sting of the wind. Perhaps he should wear some sunglasses. Or.. borrow Peter's glasses or something.

That said, it is a little uncomfortable when Peter just walks sideways up the building, Fiyero's full weight and the backpack held by him clinging on. Fiyero's plenty strong enough to hold himself, but a little tired, and a little queasy from the swinging, he can't say he enjoys it. He'd suggest Peter turning to walk backwards - but no, then Fiyero would be just staring down the abyss. Not ideal either.

He's glad when they finally stop on the roof, Fiyero carefully slipping off Peter's back, happy to have firm ground (well, concrete) under his feet again. "Isn't there someone to take my luggage?" he quips, though it's a bit softer and tired now, as he slips off the backpack and hands it to Peter.

Peter's learning how to accept these moments of vulnerability when they come, however big or however small - the way Fiyero needs him to, in order to feel comfortable enough to keep exposing that kind of vulnerability to Peter. To not feel like it's a massive deal, to just be there for him, and provide him with the security he needs - physical or otherwise.

"That remains your boyfriend's privilege, sir." Peter smiles reassuringly, accepting the bag to quickly change into his civvies. He pulls off the mask, fingers catching just under the hidden seam, and stuffs it into the bag before peeling off his gloves to let them join the growing pile. He slings the bag over his shoulder and wraps an arm around Fiyero's shoulders, huddling them close to share warmth as they wait for the elevator. "Glorified luggage rack, that's me."

The apartment building is quiet this time of night - most of the usual chaos Peter can hear behind closed doors has wound down. Someone's watching re-runs of Jeopardy a few doors down - or maybe they've fallen asleep to it. Another is snoring, a floor above them. Peter leads the way back down to their apartment, digging his keys out to unlock the door and bring them home.

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