Dream of Reality
A little Flash after Peter showed him up in the gym and broke the backboard, after Uncle Ben dies. Flash imagines Peter and knows he must be hurting. One-sided Flash/Peter. The Amazing SpiderMan (2012). SpiderFlash.
...
...
I don't even know. I really don't. But it was in my head and it was cute and so I wrote it on my lunch break at work on Friday. Went and saw the movie again on Sunday (partially to check I had my dialogue right, mostly because it's an awesome movie) and now I'm posting this fic.
This was written before 'Camera Flash' but was posted after it.
...
...
They stood almost nose to nose. Flash looked into hazel eyes, with strands of brown hair just dipping into view. He'd never seen anyone so beautiful. There was a giddy, unassuming smile on Peter's face, showing his white teeth and a hint of his pink tongue. Flash swallowed and reached out, placing his left hand where Peter's neck met his shoulder, his fingers wrapping around back and pulling Peter ever so slightly closer to him.
Peter's eyes ducked down to Flash's lips and back up to his eyes, the smile growing smaller but no less bright; no less beautiful. Flash took that as a good sign, a go ahead, and pressed his lips to Peter's. Peter's lips were soft, almost unnaturally so, and pliant under his own. Flash used his right hand to cup Peter's left cheek, running his thumb across Peter's cheek as their lips met again and again.
It was always soft, almost as if asking for permission each time, even as their kisses grew more sure. And suddenly it hit Flash: he was kissing Peter Parker. He was kissing this beautiful, amazing man that he'd only dreamed he could have. Peter who took amazing pictures, who stood up to him and took a beating to protect the weaker men, who had recently started teasing Flash back, who called Flash by his real name. Peter who could jump higher and farther than anyone Flash had ever known. Peter Parker, who could probably have his pick of anyone in the world, had chosen to kiss Flash Thompson.
Flash felt Peter's tongue flick uncertainly at his lips. It was something so Peter that Flash's heart gave a happy jump and he quickly opened his mouth and instigated a battle of the tongues. Peter may have been hesitant, but he wasn't giving up easily. He was a man, just like Flash, and they both had dominant streaks in them. The feel of their tongues wrapping around each other was one of the hottest things Flash could imagine. He hadn't been expecting that.
Peter's hands gripped the front of Flash's shirt, pulling him almost roughly closer so that their chests were pressed together, trapping Peter's hands between them. Flash's knees felt weak. He bit back a groan and-
"Yo, Flash."
Flash blinked and looked at his teammates around him. He'd spaced out, but by the looks on their faces it couldn't have been more than a moment or so. They weren't looking at him like he'd lost his mind or anything, so that was good.
"What?" he asked, rolling his basketball on his desk. His teacher didn't like that he brought it with him to class, but screw her. He liked his basketball like Peter Parker liked...his camera. Or something.
And shit. That had all been in his head. Dammit. He should've known. He'd been thinking all night about what Peter had done in the gym yesterday. It had been humiliating. But alone in his room, Flash also allowed himself to think about how hot it was. If they'd been alone in that gym...That could've been amazing and funny and almost romantic and-
And Flash needed his head checked out.
"Did you hear about Parker?" Joe asked.
Flash frowned. Something had happened to Peter? "No. What about him?" he asked, trying to sound like he didn't give a shit about the kid who humiliated him.
Thomas frowned, actually sad. "His uncle was shot and killed last night." Flash's eyes shot to Thomas's. Thomas visibly jumped at Flash's serious gaze. "The guy got away."
"I heard Parker watched him die," Joey chipped in. It felt like Flash's stomach just vanished.
"I would've thought he'd stay home after that," Joe commented, leaning back in his desk. "But I suppose after that shit he pulled yesterday, skipping school wouldn't exactly look good on his record."
Flash stood from his desk without a word. His teammates looked at him but Flash just shook his head. He put his ball in his seat and pointed at it while giving his friend's a hard stare that they knew meant "If something happens to my ball, you're all dead." Then he walked out of the room.
He had to find Peter. They may not be friends, but you'll do anything for your first crush, your first love. Peter's uncle and aunt had raised him for most of his life. It was like losing a father. Peter was no doubt hurting, because Peter was a pure hearted person. Those were rare. He needed someone. Flash wanted to be that someone.
Peter was standing at his locker, face hidden inside the metal box. Just from his stance, Flash knew he'd been right. Peter was miserable. He took a deep breath and called out.
"Hey, Parker."
Peter leaned further into his locker. His muffled "Not today, Flash" barely reached the hall.
"Hey, come on. I just want to talk-" Flash started, reaching out to place a hand on Peter's shoulder.
He intended to follow that up with something sentimental or comforting or something, he wasn't quite sure. When dealing with Peter he was never quite sure. He never got the chance however, because as soon as his hand grazed Peter's jacket, Peter flipped around, grabbed him by the shoulders, and hoisted him up, slamming him into the lockers. It knocked all the air from Flash's lungs.
The grip on his shoulders was tight; tighter than he'd thought Peter Parker capable of. He also hadn't known Peter could lift him up this high. Peter was strong. Flash didn't dwell on those thoughts though, because he was caught by Peter's eyes.
Pain. God was there pain. Peter's eyes were shining, and there was anger searing through that pain, burning it. Attacking Flash was dulling the pain, even if only for a second.
"It feels better, right?" Flash asked. He'd let Peter beat the shit out of him, right now right here in the hallway, if he would stop looking like he was about to break down. God knew Flash had beat the shit out of Peter enough times to avoid looking weak.
But the fire was already going out in Peter's eyes. There was regret taking its place. Flash took a breath, and was surprised at how hard it was to breathe in the position Peter had him.
"Look," he started, "you're uncle died." Peter's eyebrows came together and his lips pressed into a thin line. "I get it. I'm sorry."
Peter hid his face in his sleeve. Flash felt himself lowered to the ground. He didn't know if Peter was crying, but he knew that the pain was visible even when Peter's face wasn't. Everything about him screamed it.
"I'm sorry," he repeated, quiet, hoping Peter believed him. It was all he could say.
Peter held on to Flash and stood there, shaking just enough for Flash to feel it shiver down Peter's arms. And Flash wished he'd come into this confrontation with an actual plan, instead of just "Make sure he's alright" because now he had no idea what to do.
Flash didn't comfort people. He just didn't. He was a jock. He was popular. He was a bully. He didn't comfort people. But he wanted to comfort Peter, and he didn't know how. Flash frowned. He had to say something. He took a deep breath.
Peter released him and grabbed his book bag from the floor while shutting his locker and then walked away. It all happened so fast. Flash watched him walk away; watched Gwen Stacey walk up to him. Flash stood by Peter's locker and saw Gwen hug the one person he wanted. And he remembered why he would never have Peter Parker: because as long as he had liked Peter, he'd seen Peter like Gwen. If Gwen was giving Peter the time of day, Flash had no chance.
Peter walked out of sight and Flash walked back to class. He could dream about Peter, and maybe he and Peter would have moments together where Flash let himself hope, but fantasy and reality were separate. And in reality, he was leagues behind Gwen in the race for Peter Parker's heart.
But, Flash thought as he walked, anything was possible. He may be far behind, but he was more athletic than Ms. Stacey. He could catch up. If he tried hard enough, maybe he would have a chance. Maybe his dream would become reality.
...
...
fin.