A/N: I almost considered not posting this one here, you know? I'm not even sure what fandom category to put it in. *laugh* But I wanna keep things going over here, even cross-fandom. Hope y'all don't mind! - Oh, and this features autistic Peter because why not.
Title: 5 Times Ned Didn't Ask
Author: liketolaugh
Rating: T
Pairings: None
Genre: Humor/Friendship
Warnings: None
Summary: And one time he did. (Even before he knows what's going on, Ned helps Peter manage his powers.)
Disclaimer: Like hell I own D. Gray-man.
Anyone who's taken more than ten seconds to look, really look, at Peter Parker knows that he hates, well, being looked at.
It's kind of hilarious, actually – he ducks his head and drops his gaze and he starts stuttering. He just doesn't deal well with questions, or cross-examination or anything. It's better to just take him at his word, really.
Ned knows this because Ned has been friends with Peter for years. Not since kindergarten or anything, but the three years of middle school weren't anything to sneeze at. They've gone through some of their most awkward phases together; there's no going back now.
They're still in the process of doing that, actually.
But anyway, the point was, Ned knew that sometimes the best course of action was just… not to ask. He didn't need to know the full story in order to help. Peter did the same for him, which was great because pretty often the stories were super embarrassing.
Sometimes, though, he really, really wanted to ask.
"Wouldn't it suck if you were like, allergic to some kind of high-end chemical?" Ned mused, leaning against the lockers while he waited for Peter to finish putting his stuff away. "You'd never be able to work in a fancy lab, Peter. Never."
He was only sort of teasing; he knew that Peter had always wanted to work at Stark Industries – hell, that was one of the things they'd bonded over, even if they wanted to work in different divisions. One of the first stories Peter had ever told him was about the time he went to the Stark Expo and tried to kill a HammerBot with a costume.
"What kind of allergy would put me down for a whole weekend?" Peter wondered, shutting his locker but leaving his hand on as he turned to face Ned, a half-smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "I'm sure it's not that. It was just a bug or something."
"Yeah, but what if it wasn't?" Ned persisted, eyes wide. The school trip had had the two of them rambling the whole way home over all the things they'd seen; Ned himself had spent half the night trying to find out more. It would suck if Peter couldn't join him.
"Well, then that would really suck," Peter said, unknowing echoing Ned's thoughts. He shrugged, leaning against the locker slightly and squinting at Ned. "Anyway, I sure feel like I'm coming off being sick."
"I thought you said Ben had cleared you," Ned said, alarmed. Why was his friend like this?
"Aunt May did," Peter admitted with a small grin. "Uncle Ben just didn't argue. Much."
Ned relaxed and grinned back, knowing that May tended to be a lot more relaxed than Ben was. She was the one he and Peter knew to beg candy off of, after all. "Are you alright to come over after school, then? We still need to finish building the Millennium Falcon."
Legos were the second thing they'd bonded over. They'd always been Ned's favorite thing in the world.
"I think so," Peter agreed, perking up a little just at the thought. "Ask me again at lunch, though. I swear everything is even louder than usual."
"Because you got sick?" Ned asked, tilting his head slightly in confusion.
"Probably," Peter shrugged, visible exasperation flashing across his face.
Just then, the bell rang, and sure enough, Peter flinched visibly, earning him an (attempt at a) sympathetic look. With a grimace at Ned, he pushed off the locker, and then- stopped. Twisted in place. And gave his hand a confused look.
Ned, who'd started walking when Peter did, paused to frown at him. "Peter?"
"Uh," Peter said intelligently, looking suddenly flustered. His hand was still flat on the locker, and slowly, Peter eased back towards it, elbow bending but hand never changing positions. His eyes flickered not quite back to Ned, brow furrowing in confusion.
"Did you forget something?" Ned asked, taking a wild guess.
"I… y- no." Peter was a terrible liar, and he knew it. His eyes flicked up to Ned's and he smiled unconvincingly. "It's nothing. The locker's just- sticky! Gross, right?"
His voice got high-pitched toward the end, eyes wide with alarm even as he leaned against the lockers again, pressing one hand over the other.
"You're a terrible liar," Ned told him, because Peter always seemed to forget, and Peter ducked his head in clear embarrassment.
He reached over and grabbed Peter's wrist, considering physically pulling him off the locker, and Peter yelped and pulled it away himself. Then Peter gave his hand another confused look, shook his head, and scampered off without looking back, while Ned stared after him bemusedly.
Well. Ned had absolutely no idea what had just happened.
Ned kind of sucked with people, alright? He knew it, Peter knew it, probably everyone he'd ever talked to knew it. He was only marginally better at it than Peter. It was probably the third thing they'd bonded over, unofficially.
So he wasn't really sure how to talk to Peter for a bit after Ben died. Was he supposed to mention it? Not mention it? Be extra nice? Act normal? He had no idea, and Peter was such a mess that he was too unnerved to figure it out.
When Ben Parker died, Ned was upset, but not nearly as upset as Peter was, so he tried to keep it quiet, even if he did jolt a little every time he remembered. (He'd spent a lot of time at Peter's house, okay?)
Peter, though – he'd started skipping classes lately, showing up with bruises and scrapes, and he was exhausted. All the time. Ned wasn't sure he was sleeping at all, the way he'd been looking lately. He never obviously looked like he'd been crying, but that might actually have been better.
Ned was worried.
Beside him, Peter made a tiny, aggravated sound, and Ned started and glanced over.
Peter's face was scrunched up, and he'd reached up to tug at his hair – probably hadn't even noticed, if Ned knew him. He was shifting constantly back and forth in place, edging close to the lockers, and it was probably a pretty good thing Flash wasn't around right now, huh?
Peter lifted one hand in a 'one moment' gesture, and even though Peter wasn't looking, Ned nodded.
It was the noise that came with the end of the school day, Ned knew – everyone was talking and getting their stuff and whatever. Peter had complained about it before. He probably should've guessed when Peter stopped short of actually pulling his backpack on. He'd been on edge all day, anyway.
Here, at least, Ned knew what to do; he reached over and dug through Peter's backpack, and then shoved a pair of headphones into his friend's chest. Immediately, Peter grabbed for them and snapped them on, but he didn't look any less agitated.
Ned leaned against the lockers and tried not to frown too hard. When Peter slid down to the ground, half-curling up against the wall, Ned followed and took out his phone to pass the time.
Finally, after just about everyone else had left and it was just them and a few stragglers, Peter relaxed a little and reluctantly pulled his backpack on, shutting the locker quietly.
"That's the third time this week," Ned pointed out, because that was pretty unusual.
Peter nodded absently, which, Ned reflected, was also pretty unusual, since he hadn't taken the headphones off yet. The other boy opened his eyes and grimaced at the ground.
"Think you can, I don't know, contract anything that suddenly makes sensory overload worse?" Ned asked, standing up and stepping away from the lockers mostly to see if Peter would follow.
Peter did, so it was about time for them to start heading home. He also shrugged and didn't look anywhere near Ned. "Maybe."
Ned squinted at him. "Is it contagious?" he asked. Peter was a terrible liar.
Peter smiled weakly and shrugged again. "Probably not unless I bite you," he said lightly, voice pitched soft.
Ned took what he felt was a very prudent step away, and Peter rolled his eyes.
"Wanna come to my place?" he asked, and Peter shook his head.
"Aunt May," he said, by way of explanation.
"Oh," Ned said, and decided it'd probably be better to be quiet.
It got easier, eventually. Peter looked less like a zombie most days, and he needed his headphones less, and their conversations got comfortable again. Ned knew Peter was getting better when he started to go off on superhero-related tangents again.
Peter didn't stop acting weird, though. Ned didn't ask, only because he knew that Peter would keep being weird, except he'd start trying to hide it.
Decathlon meetings were some of the best times, when Peter was smiling again and on top of his game, and he and Ned would exchange glances and compete with each other, minds racing in the most satisfying way possible.
"-and I know the government likes to say bad things about them but they do so much, you know?" Peter's eyes were bright as they headed out of the meeting, and Ned wasn't sure how they'd gotten to this topic but he figured it didn't really matter. Frankly, talking about superheroes was always fantastic. "They work really hard and it's amazing and I wish I could look at Mr. Stark's armor sometime, the joint design is-"
"No one cares, Penis," Flash said loudly behind them, and Peter started and closed his mouth abruptly, ducking his head.
Ned cringed, too, and almost did again at the not-so-quiet laughter that followed.
"It's not as if Tony Stark would ever look twice at you, anyway," Flash added. Ned didn't have to look back to see the smirk that was on his face, so he didn't.
In silent agreement, both Ned and Peter sped up a little, leaving the rest of the team behind. Sometimes Ned wondered what teachers were thinking when they insisted that joining teams and clubs was the best way to make friends. It wasn't even a good way.
"Flash is just-" Instead of committing to an insult, Peter huffed, tugging irately at the strap of his backpack.
Ned shrugged. "Yeah," he agreed uneasily. "And the others aren't as bad, but-"
A ripping sound made him stop, and he turned his head to look at Peter, who'd stopped at the same time, staring blankly at the strip of cloth in his hand. After a moment, Ned registered that it was the strap of Peter's backpack, torn clean off.
"Um," Peter said, and shot Ned a guilty look, effectively distracted from Flash's antics.
Ned wasn't stupid, okay?
"I guess that backpack was a little worn," Ned said with an awkward laugh, and Peter relaxed, giving Ned a weak grin and a nod. "We can probably fix it up with duct tape."
"Yeah," Peter said quietly, and then, perking up a little and gaining momentum, "Your place or mine? It's been a while, Aunt May's been asking about you, and I mean I know it might be awkward but we could watch Star Wars again or maybe-" He cut himself off but gave Ned an expectant look, and Ned grinned a little more easily.
"Sure," he said, and then, "Hey, did you hear that there's a new superhero? They call him Spider-Man, and his outfit looks kind of silly, but his webs look so cool."
Peter's smile was a little odd, but Ned didn't worry about it too much. "Isn't it? How do you think he made them?"
"How do you know he doesn't make it from his body?" Ned challenged, and Peter laughed. Ned snorted. "Oh, right, you're the resident expert on superheroes, I forgot. Teasing," he added at Peter's look. "Must've been a trick, though, because I hear it's almost unbreakable and even dissolves after a while. So cool."
"Yeah," Peter said quietly, dropping his gaze to the ground.
It was uncharacteristic, but after a bit of thought, Ned put it down to grief. Peter wasn't all better yet, after all.
Eventually Ned starts counting up the odd things, the new things, because it's been months and Peter's grieving less but a lot of the weird things are still there. He's not even gonna pretend that he isn't trying to figure out what's up; he is.
He's just not, you know, really getting anywhere.
But he does help, because Peter would never ask for help, but the other boy never thinks anything of it when he retrieves something Ned forgot, or redirects Flash's taunts to himself, or guides Ned through the homework he didn't do so it gets done in time. He just helps.
After a while, for both of them, it became both a habit and a promise.
Anyway, one of the things he noticed after he started looking – which he hoped to God Peter never noticed – was that Peter's lunch wasn't cutting it for him anymore.
He'd started bringing more, yeah, and Ned hadn't really thought anything of it, but he'd stopped when he was bringing as much as Ned did. Which would be fine – Ned had put effort into not feeling self-conscious about how much he ate – except he still seemed pretty hungry, and Peter had been known to use Ned as a behavioral benchmark before.
Ned would complain – Peter was awful at taking care of himself – but this time it was probably a pretty good call. Flash noticed everything.
Instead, he gave Peter an apple and a mini roll of crackers.
Peter blinked, rolling the apple between his palms as he considered, and then tilted his head and flashed Ned an embarrassed grin.
"Thanks, Ned," he said in an undertone, and Ned shrugged.
"Anytime," he said, and very pointedly didn't ask why Peter was suddenly eating a lot more. From the way Peter ducked his head, apparently he noticed anyway.
But he also ate the extra food, so whatever. Ned's friend wasn't going to starve during the second half of the day. Probably.
That was good enough. (Probably.)
Once, Peter breaks his ankle.
He doesn't explain how he broke his ankle, of course. Or rather, he does, but he ducks his head and mumbles and fidgets so hard Ned rolls his eyes and tells him to sit down before he hurts himself worse. (He says, eventually, that he stepped in a pothole. Needless to say, Ned doesn't believe him.)
"It's so itchy," Peter complained about a week after he got the cast on, pouting at his food. Ned rolled an apple at him and snorted.
"This is why we're nerds," he told his friend seriously, nodding as if imparting sage advice. "So we don't trip and fall and hurt ourselves, like we do."
Peter laughed, stilted and awkward, and Ned paused to squint at him, and then dismissed it.
"Seriously, though, I can't wait to get it off," Peter said, when he was done. He reached down and patted the cast. "It has to be almost done healing by now, right? I mean, it's been a week."
"It takes six weeks," Ned informed him. "I looked it up."
"What?" Peter gave him a horrified look. "No way! You've gotta be messing with me."
"Not even a little bit, dude."
Peter groaned and dropped his head to the table, taking a dramatic bite of his apple. "But that's forever. I can't be stuck in this hot, itchy cast for six weeks."
"Sucks to be you," Ned said cheerfully, and, without thinking, aimed a playful kick at Peter under the table. A moment later, he blanched. "Wait, sorry, sorry, can I undo, like, the last ten seconds-"
Peter frowned at him. "What?"
Ned stared. "That didn't even hurt, did it?" he asked.
Peter paused, and then said, "Um. Ow. That was really mean, Ned."
Ned stared. "Right." He manfully did not roll his eyes. "Anyway, didn't they tell you how long it would take for the broken ankle to heal, when you got the cast on?"
Peter relaxed. "I mean, maybe, but I didn't hear them."
Right.
Peter. Was having a panic attack.
On the ceiling.
Ned's life had gotten so weird since he'd found out his best friend was secretly Spider-Man.
"Okay, um." Look, Peter had had panic attacks before and Ned knew roughly what to do, but nothing he'd read said what to do if he couldn't reach them. "Peter, listen, um, you should probably get down from there, like, I know you like it up there, but, um, you could-" -Pass out from all that hyperventilating he was doing and fall off-
Calm down, Leeds.
The rapid, slightly wheezy sound of Peter's breathing seemed to fill the room, and Ned could see him, curled up and trembling, in the corner of the ceiling, pressed close to the wall and gasping, eyes shut tight.
Ned took a deep breath, let it out, and then brightened with sudden inspiration.
"Peter, you can hear me breathing up there, right? Of course you can, your senses are super crazy, and- anyway. Breathe with me, alright, Peter? In and out. Come on, Peter."
He was still talking maybe a little too quickly for what he was trying to do, pacing forward and back from the middle of the room, arms half-lifted in what could've either been a gesture of peace or an attempt to reach his friend. But Peter was calming down anyway, his breathing starting to even out and his body uncurling a little.
Ned made an effort to breathe and talk a little slower, taking a moment to be extremely glad his parents weren't home, and eventually, Peter twisted (untwisted?) and dropped so that he was in the corner of the floor instead of the ceiling.
"Peter," Ned breathed in relief, and hurried forward to drop beside his friend.
"Ned," Peter echoed back, without opening his eyes but with a flicker of a smile. After a moment, he opened them anyway and half-glanced at Ned, embarrassment and self-incrimination and tiredness mixing on his face. "I, um- thanks."
"On the ceiling, Peter," Ned complained, and Peter let out a breathless laugh. And then despite himself, "What happened?"
Peter stiffened, and twisted to look at Ned, anxious and wary and Ned wasn't sure whether Peter looked older or younger now, but either way it kind of sucked.
"Um," Peter said, and Ned almost sighed. Peter ducked his head, swallowed, and then said, "Ned, do you remember Toomes…?"
They're both so precious! *beam* I love them, really. Peter is already one of my new favorite characters, and I only watched Homecoming like last week. Anyway, thank you all for reading, and please review! (This is my first work in this fandom, but it probably won't be my last!)