"How's Flash doing?"

Peter leaned backward over the couch so that he was viewing Flash and Natasha upside down. They were in the sparring ring on the other side of the room. "Good. He's doing good. He's even getting training at the Tower."

At the moment it was actually strengthening exercises. He was almost back to his pre-virus strength, where he could be a professional bodyguard again if he wished.

Natasha landed a palm to Flash's chest and he went down hard to the mat. Peter winced in sympathy.

"His hair's growing back," he said to Gwen.

"Well that's good," she said.

"Here. Hold on." Peter held his phone out, opened the camera app, zoomed in on Flash as he got in his ready stance again, and snapped a picture. It sent to Gwen immediately. "I sent you a pic."

After a few seconds, she hummed. "Oh, great composition."

"Really?" Peter asked dubiously. He knew phone cameras were getting good, but he'd zoomed in pretty far. It would've been grainy.

"Oh yeah," Gwen said. "I especially like that it's upside down. Very impressionistic."

That made Peter jolt back to sitting upright, rather than watching the match across the room. "Oh." He blushed and was glad Gwen couldn't see it over the phone. She could probably hear it in his voice though. "Sorry."

Gwen laughed. "Don't worry about it, Peter. But it is interesting. He looks like he did in high school." Her voice was light and teasing as she continued. "Hopefully he's not bullying you again though."

Now it was Peter's turn to laugh. He didn't see how the sound drew Flash's attention, or how Natasha took advantage of it to lay him out on the mat again.

"Oh, he is," Peter said, grinning. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "He keeps showing off how strong he's getting by wrapping his arms around my neck and giving me noogies. Noogies, Gwen!"

"How terrible."

No, Gwen was terrible.

"My hair, Gwen!" Peter complained, running his hand through said brown locks. "Tony and the Avengers already mess it up enough. Now Flash is doing it too."

Gwen let out a sound not unlike a coo. "Poor baby."

Why did Peter ever like this woman? Honestly, Peter had terrible taste in partners. His bitter reflection was negated by the grin he couldn't keep off his face.

"How's London?" he asked, politely interested and smoothly changing the subject.

There was a moment's pause as Gwen registered the switch. "It rains a lot, and I can't understand what people are saying half the time."

"Pssh," Peter said. "Of course not. They're speaking English."

"I know," Gwen said in a way that Peter knew she was nodding her head emphatically. "But I've only been here for a few days. I'm sure I'll get it."

"I know you will," Peter corrected her.

"Peter! Your turn!" Natasha called from behind him. "Your boyfriend's at his limit for the day."

"Hey!" Flash said, affronted.

Chuckling, Peter said, "Gotta go, Gwen. Avengers stuff."

Down the line, Gwen hummed thoughtfully. "Nothing too serious?"

Peter shook his head even as he stood from the couch. "Nah. Just training. Getting my butt kicked. You know, the usual."

"Have fun," Gwen said easily. "Be safe."

"You too," Peter said, and then hung up.

On the way across the room, Peter tossed his phone onto a table and himself into the ring. He clapped a hand on Flash's shoulder. Flash's eyes widened, like he just realized that Peter was actually going to fight.

"Oh man. I can't believe I'm actually gonna see you fight the Black Widow," he breathed out.

Peter scoffed. "You've been fighting her for like an hour."

Flash shook his head. "Not really. Trust me, I know fights. That was not a fight. You're actually-" He paused, maybe remembering how Peter had told him he'd fought Natasha before, then let out a breath. "I might need to sit down."

Peter pat his back as Flash moved to the edge of the ring, until his fingers no longer touched the other man. When Flash was outside of the ring and sitting in one of the chairs nearby, watching, Peter's spider sense flickered.

He dropped to the floor in a crouch and swung his leg out even as Natasha's leg struck where his head used to be. While he did sweep her other leg to the side, Natasha managed to catch herself with her hands, spun herself around and kicked out at Peter's face again. He caught her leg and shoved her away, then jumped over her to land on the other side of the ring.

"Wow, you really don't waste time, huh?"

She was up and punching at him in a heartbeat. Peter dodged, pulled his hands up like a boxer, and struck out with his own punches. He was faster at throwing his fists around than Natasha was, but he still just barely managed to graze her cheek or her shoulder once each.

Then Natasha was in the air, her hands on Peter's shoulders as a fulcrum point, flipping over behind him. At the same time she got her arms around his neck, like she would to break a neck, Peter reached back, grabbed her around the neck as well, and flipped forward. His strength outweighed her momentum, and the two spider-themed heroes smacked into the ground, dislodging both of their grips.

They rolled and were up again instantly. Natasha punched, Peter ducked, Natasha smirked. In the blink of an eye, just long enough for Peter's spider sense to notice she was going to hit him, Natasha had used his crouched position to climb onto his shoulders, wrap her legs around his neck, and flip Peter over, slamming him into the rink floor.

"Oh shit," Flash said from the side of the rink.

Groaning, Peter pushed himself up to his knees.

"Okay," Natasha let out, and Peter was proud to note she sounded a little out of breath. However, she had just finished with Flash too, so it probably wasn't Peter's fault. "Not bad, Spider-kid."

"Not you too," Peter moaned at the nickname. He was on his feet, knees slightly bent, arms up for attack and defense.

They just watched each other for several long moments. Then, impatient, Peter rushed at her. He jabbed out but she simply grabbed him by the arm to throw him over her shoulder. He caught himself with his remaining limbs before he could crash into the ground again. He grabbed Natasha's arm using the one she still held in her grasp, flipped so his feet were facing her, then used his arm and both legs to lift Natasha off the ground and toss her.

She flew through the air, past the edge of the rink, and landed on the couch. Which was actually exactly what Peter had been planning. Cool.

Natasha didn't get up from the couch. Instead, she lounged there, like she meant to be there. "Not bad at all," she commented, almost to herself. Then she sat up. "You're learning to use your opponent's moves and strengths against them more and more. That's good."

Peter glanced at Flash, who looked awestruck, then back at Natasha. "Does that mean practice is over?"

A smirk. "Hardly. We're just beginning." She stood up and moved toward her things, folded neatly on a chair. From the pile she pulled her Black Widow bracelets. "Get your web shooters. We're moving on to weapons."

Working with weapons and Natasha was never fun. He dared anyone to go up against something that could send thousands of volts of electricity racing through your body and call that fun. But Peter did it because it was good training.

The entire time they were fighting, Flash watched. He gasped when Natasha landed a hard blow, let out a quiet 'yes' every time Peter hit Natasha in return, and had even started yelling encouragingly about how "You can do this, Peter! Come on! Get up!" when Peter got zapped by the Widow's Bite and was jerking around on the mat for several long seconds.

When he finally took Flash back to Aunt May's house, Flash admitted, "Seeing you fight was unreal."

"Didn't think I had it in me?" Peter asked, quirking his lips up. He was shuffling a deck of cards so they could play a few games until Aunt May got home for dinner.

A shake of his head. "No," Flash said. "I mean, I knew you were Spider-man. I'd seen you in the suit and you've ditched me for superhero stuff a few times already, but…I mean, you're so fast. And no matter what she did to you, you just kept getting back up. It was…It was amazing, Peter."

Peter blushed at the compliment, especially seeing the adoration in Flash's eyes when it was said.

"But it was really good, for me too," Flash continued after a few minutes. "I mean…I'm not so worried about you getting hurt now. Not after that beating didn't even wind you."

Peter shrugged, but he was grinning. Flash being okay with the superhero thing was good, great even. "Most crime fighting is like that. It's only the super villains you have to worry about."

Peter had just set half of the deck in front of himself and half of the deck in front of Flash when suddenly he paused, as still as if he were a movie someone had stopped mid-scene. A moment later he'd pulled his hands back to himself and was moving again, but the pause had been long enough and obvious enough to catch Flash's attention.

"What's up?" he asked, clearly confused by the sudden heavy air around Peter.

"Um," Peter tried, then swallowed, letting his eyes rest on the cards in front of him instead of on Flash. "Were you…I mean, were you disappointed? That Spider-man was me?"

He put his index finger on the top card in his deck and shifted it from side to side, careful not to topple the deck but needing to do something with his hands. For a few long moments, Flash said nothing. Or maybe it was just one moment. Peter was nervous.

Finally, "You know, I never even thought about that," Flash admitted.

Peter lifted his eyes from the cards. Flash was absentmindedly scratching his cheek.

"I was upset at first, that you didn't trust me enough to tell me. I already said that. And then…I started accepting it. I remember that conversation we had about my fake little brother. Makes a lot more sense looking back, you know? But," he shrugged, "that was all about you being Spider-man, not, I don't know, not Spider-man being you."

"And now? Now that you're thinking about it?"

Flash cupped his chin in his hand and looked up at the ceiling while he thought. He didn't fidget while he thought, like Peter sometimes did. At times, he did rock a little to the left or right, but other than that he was very still.

"I don't know." Peter deflated a bit at Flash's words. "I mean, Spider-man is awesome. He was my idol. I wanted to be like him."

"I get it," Peter said, leaning forward to slump on the table.

Flash looked at him seriously. "No. I don't think you do. Lemme finish." He took a deep breath. "I used to think that if Spider-man could face all the shit he did, could take those beatings, and get up, and be good, then I had no right to do anything else either. I realized, pretty recently, that that's about you too." He shrugged one shoulder. "In high school, you jumped in and took the beatings for a bunch of people I would've otherwise beat the shit out of, but you kept doing it anyway. You got back up. You stayed good. So, I've got no right to do anything else. I gotta get up, and I've gotta do better."

He had a pleasant flush on his cheeks, and his hands were on his knees where they were crossed on the other side of the coffee table. He was treating this like a very important conversation. Maybe it was.

"Everyone keeps telling me that you aren't Spider-man all the time, and sure, you're not in uniform, but you're not different. I mean, when you get to joking, it's that same humor. You have the same morals, the same views." He let out a huff of annoyance. "What I'm trying to say is that I wasn't disappointed. I was actually kind of excited, and not only because I didn't have to worry about my favorite hero trying to get between me and the guy I liked. I would've hated to turn him down, and now I know so much about Spider-man that I didn't know before, and now I know what you can do, and I've seen you and…and you're awesome, Peter."

There were a bunch of warm, fluttery feelings going on in Peter's stomach and a lightness in his chest. He felt himself sitting up straighter, with confidence in his shoulders and the tilt of his chin. Flash wasn't disappointed. In fact, if it'd been a choice between Peter and Spider-man, he'd just said he would've picked Peter. Peter rubbed at his nose, even though he knew it wouldn't distract from how red his face must've been.

"Wow." His eyes landed on the deck of cards still on the table. "Awesome, huh?" Flash made an affirmative noise. Peter picked up his first card without looking at it. "Well, uh," he cleared his throat. "Let's see if one of those things I can do is beat you at War."

It was as if Flash had been punched. He gave a little start at the sudden subject change. Peter's tone of voice wasn't as light as it had been before he asked, but it was softer, like they'd gotten closer in the span of a few seconds. And they had. Flash saw Peter in Spider-man, had always seen it and just not known what he was seeing. Or maybe he'd always seen Spider-man in Peter, even before Peter got bit. Either way, Flash still looked up to him. He wasn't disappointed to find out they were the same person.

The best part, Peter repeated over and over in his mind as they played, was that Flash would've picked Peter even if they weren't.

"I think this is one thing I can beat a superhero at," Flash said confidently. "You don't need powers to have luck."

"Or do you?"

…

…

The sky was a warm orange behind the gray clouds that slowly dropped snow on Queens, New York. The icy, slushy wannabe snow on the ground from previous days gathered in the ditch and on the side of the street and generally looked gross, but the snow falling past the edge of the porch looked perfect for the holidays. Especially with Flash Thompson bundled up on the front porch and using it as a backdrop.

Peter beamed as soon as he saw his boyfriend and quickly beckoned him inside so he wouldn't freeze, but then someone walked up behind Peter and blocked the path.

"Not so fast, Mr. Thompson," Aunt May said and then pointed up. Both Flash and Peter glanced above the door, where Aunt May had finished off her Christmas decorations with a sprig of mistletoe. "You boys know the rules."

"Aunt May," Peter whined, face flushing, but Flash smirked.

"You heard the lady," the taller man said and stepped into Peter's personal space. He bent forward, capturing Peter's lips as he slid an arm around his waist. Instantly, Peter's arms found their way around Flash too.

A camera flash went off just before they pulled away, and Peter frowned comically at his aunt. She held her camera proudly, no shame in her, and winked at them. Then she turned and disappeared into the dining room.

"Sorry about that," Peter said. "She snuck that up there when I was doing the lights."

"I don't mind. If it means I get to kiss you every time I walk in the door, I'm totally fine with that." Flash leaned in for another kiss, this time letting his hands slip lower on Peter's back, one hand coming to rest on Peter's firm butt. Peter gave a hum of approval into the kiss.

It was intoxicating, knowing Flash wanted him even with the superhero bit and the bruising bit and the science thing. Being with Gwen had been exhilarating too, but these days Peter thought only of his relationship with Flash. While Flash was still recovering, Peter found himself comparing the two relationships all the time, but he knew continuing to do that would only leave him with a sour taste in his mouth.

He was happy with Flash now. That didn't make what he'd had with Gwen any less real. And what he'd had with Gwen didn't make him any less happy with Flash. Peter was surprised and proud of himself for coming to terms with it all as quick as he did, instead of mulling it over for weeks. He was making progress.

Flash liked being with Peter, despite their generally different hobbies and interests, and Peter was going to take full advantage of that. He pushed Flash back gently against the doorframe and slipped his warm hand just barely under the bottom of Flash's layers of jackets, just enough to touch his skin.

"Whoa, now. Public indecency. You're going to damage my innocent eyes here," Tony said in way of announcing his presence.

The two younger men pulled apart, and Peter blushed but Flash did not look ashamed. If anything, he looked smug. Behind Tony, Steve loomed and looked apologetic.

"I'm sure he didn't mean to ruin the moment," he said, even though they all knew it was a lie. "He's just hangry."

"Wha- Did you just say hangry?" Peter asked, expression openly shocked. Flash knocked him in the shoulder, but Peter stood by the question.

With a loud laugh, Tony smacked his hand into Peter's chest and held it there. "That's right. Even senior citizens can learn modern lingo, kid. Keep that in mind for the future." He pat Peter's chest once with his fingers, drawing Peter's attention to a small envelope pinned under Tony's palm. "Found that in the mail today, by the way. Thought you might be interested. But read it later. Right now we have presents to unwrap and food to inhale and all manner of embarrassing holiday stories to tell."

Taking the letter, Peter frowned. "About me? You've only known me for two Christmases. What could you have to embarrass me with?"

"Who said I was talking about you?" Tony asked, slipping into the house.

"He's talking about himself," Steve clarified. "And honestly I don't know if all of the stories are true or not. Knowing him, it could go either way. Which is both interesting… and concerning."

Steve paused before the door frame, arms full of gifts, and glanced at the mistletoe before down at the two young men plastered to the doorframe after letting Tony through. With a heavy stare, he conveyed that he'd like them to move, and Peter almost laughed at the idea that Steve Rogers wouldn't stand under mistletoe with someone else. It seemed he couldn't just ignore it like Tony had.

Peter motioned for Flash to come all the way in, and Steve followed them a half step later, nudging the door shut with his foot.

"Anyway, Flash, what did the doctors say?" Peter asked as they moved into the living room.

Shrugging off his coat, Flash couldn't help but grin. "I'm in the clear. The cure Dr. Banner and Gwen came up with took out the virus, no problem, and there are no signs of it coming back. I'm supposed to come back in if I feel any of the symptoms returning, but they said I'll be back to normal by the new year if I keep doing physical therapy."

"Wonderful!" Aunt May cheered and came over to give him a big hug.

Peter was relieved by the news and exchanged a smile with his godfather. Flash did therapy every day, determined to regain what the virus had taken from him so quickly – mainly his strength and endurance. His hair would take time to regrow, but there was no other sign that Flash had even been sick: No rashes, no sweating, no devolving into madness and hallucination. With his muscles back to normal strength, they could put it all behind them and move on.

The group settled in around the coffee table and, one by one, they exchanged gifts. Some were almost too grand ("Anthony, we talked about this. I don't need you to pay for the house." "Maybe not, May, but now you can focus on getting your degree, like you want to.") and some were perfectly small – Peter got Flash his first skateboard and Flash framed one of Peter's non-Spider-man photos. In the end, no one could say any gift didn't fit the person it was for or that they weren't gratefully accepted. Flash may have had doubts about skating, but he joked that it just meant Peter would have to peel him off the sidewalk a lot.

They ate dinner together, and while it was boisterous and happy, it couldn't compare to the volume or chaos of an Avenger's holiday meal. Still, it was warm and fun, and Flash was smiling. Peter had heard how gloomy family meals at the Thompson household were, how little holiday spirit made it into Mr. Thompson's tiny kitchen, and it made Peter glad that he could at least do this for Flash.

After dinner, Steve helped Aunt May clean up while Tony went into the living room again to find which channel had the best set of holiday movies to watch. And if he accidentally set them up with a year of Netflix in the process because he didn't like any of the options… well that was neither here nor there. Meanwhile, Flash pulled Peter to the entry hall.

"I think I've said this before, but… thanks, Peter," he said, running his hand over his buzzed hair. He did that a lot since the incident, and Peter supposed it was because it felt cool as well as being a familiar throwback to high school.

"For what?" he asked, stepping close enough to run his own hand over Flash's head. The buzzed bits sort of tickled at the same time they were soft, and he ran his hand over them again just for fun.

Flash's eyes shut on the second pass and he took a soft breath. His hand found Peter's raised arm and he opened his eyes, smiling down at Peter. "For letting me be a part of this. I've never had something like this, you know? A family to smile with over dinner and tell old stories to. A support team to help me through therapy." He gripped Peter's arm and his smile turned teasing. "Not even someone who seemed to like rubbing my buzzed head like a creep."

"Heh, really?" Peter couldn't help the laugh. Then, with a devious smirk, he took both hands and rubbed furiously over Flash's hair until the other cried mercy. Then he lowered his hands and laughed again. "Well get used to it. You're part of a family of creeps now. You don't have a choice to be alone on holidays anymore."

Holding his own head with one hand, Flash shrugged. "Alright," he agreed. "I think I can get used to that."

Tony shouted for everyone to join him and Flash inclined his head toward the living room as they heard May and Steve making their way out of the kitchen. But Peter shook his head and said he needed to use the restroom first. It was a lie, but a small and innocent one.

When he was alone, Peter moved to sit on the bottom of the stairs, just out of view of the people now crowding on the couch. He pulled the envelope Tony had brought out of his pocket and turned it over in his hands. It was a letter addressed to Peter, but the handwriting wasn't familiar.

Opening it, he pulled out the letter and checked for the sender. To his honest surprise, he saw the name Harry Osborn scrawled in at the bottom. Returning his eyes to the top, he began to read.

'My Dear Peter,

I apologize if this letter is hard to read. My handwriting is not what it used to be and I've been forbidden the use of technology. The doctors assure me that my dexterity and strength will return with time, but I hardly see how that's meant to comfort someone who will be in prison for the foreseeable future.

I wanted to write to you to let you know something very important: I was happy that you lived. When I discovered your other identity, I was angry. I felt that you had been stolen from me. I didn't understand, and in my anger and my panic I did something truly horrible. I left you to die. That was the only regret I had at the time. And then you appeared at the convention to stop me. It was like a miracle, Peter. You were alive! I was relieved, and then I remembered that the disease took time to kill and I despaired once more. You were still lost to me forever.

And that is why I am writing you this letter. You are so special to me Peter. When I thought I'd lost you, I also lost my mind. Admittedly part of that was also the disease running through my brain, but the loss of you was staggering. So though I know I have done reprehensible things, I must ask one last request of you.

Please write to me. You don't have to consider me a friend again. I know that would be a tall order for anyone who had tried to end your life. But I still believe in the future you will build, Peter. Even without me at your side, with your own mind, your own morals, and your own skills, you are destined for greatness. And I don't mean the spandex and insects. Please let me be a part of that future, even in this small way.

Even if you deny me this, even if you say no, please know that you saved me, Peter. You saved the city from me, and you saved me from myself. I will never be able to thank you enough for that. Give Mr. Thompson, Ms. Stacy, and your aunt my best wishes for a warm season.

Waiting with baited breath,

Harry Osborn'

The letter caught Peter off-guard. Not only was it from a man he thought he'd never see again, but because of the contents. Harry Osborn, free from the maddening effects of his disease, was as influential as ever. His words, however scribbled with a shaking hand, were purposeful and effective.

Peter had always believed it was possible to save Harry, that his friend was inherently good, and this letter drew on that. Part of Peter wanted to be proud of his instincts and write back as soon as he could, to assure Harry that he still had a friend who believed in him. Another part of Peter was cautious. Harry always had such sweet words. Was it possible this letter was a trap? Would he ensnare Peter's hopes and feelings for Harry and then one day use them against Peter?

The thought that, even without the illness, Harry might be worse than Peter had ever imagined… it was almost more than Peter could stand to think about. It was definitely more than he should be considering on Christmas day, with his family in the other room waiting for him.

Peter folded the letter back up and slid it back inside its envelope. He'd reread it later. He'd reread it as many times as he had to until he could decide if writing back was the best plan. It wasn't that he didn't want to. Two years ago, he probably would have written back immediately. But life had taught him to be more cautious, and he needed time to figure out if Harry, his once dear friend, was good for him. Actually, he needed to figure out whether continuing their relationship was even good for Harry.

It was a lot to think about. And he'd do it later.

Peter set the letter on a side table as he reentered the living room, out of the way but not easily forgotten. Tony greeted his arrival jubilantly, but Peter didn't miss the way his godfather's gaze flickered to the envelope. Briefly, he wondered if Tony had read it first, but in the end it didn't really matter. Peter plopped himself down on the couch by Tony and let him muss his hair affectionately.

"Everything alright, champ?" Tony asked when he was done.

"Yeah. Yeah, everything's alright," Peter assured and tried to fix his hair. "Except that you've ruined my hair, and Aunt May probably isn't anywhere near done taking photos."

That made Tony laugh and he maybe even made a sorry attempt to help smooth Peter's hair back out, but then he was distracted by Aunt May herself asking him about the movie they were watching. Peter thought Steve would probably be a better, less dramatic person to ask, but it was then that he noticed the captain and Flash were standing over near the kitchen, talking quietly so they wouldn't disturb the others.

Disengaging himself from Tony, Peter moved closer and tried to eavesdrop. The conversation appeared serious. Why was everything so serious on Christmas?

"-won't be easy," Steve was saying when Peter finally picked up on the words. "In fact, it would be just as tough as the military, if not more so. You'd have to go through basic training with the rest of the recruits, plus extra training for superhuman threats."

"You said you wanted me in SHIELD more than in the military. But now it sounds like you're trying to convince me not to do it. I don't get it," Flash said with a deep frown.

Steve shook his head. "I'm not trying to dissuade you, son. I'm just making sure you understand the difficulty. The lines of work are similar, and you'll find the same team mindset and camaraderie. At times, SHIELD will be more dangerous. At others, the military."

"Then why choose SHIELD over the Army or the Navy?" Flash asked. Good question, Peter thought. If the two programs were so close, why ask Flash to join SHIELD when the other had expressed an interest in the army?

"Mission targets," the captain said. "I'm not saying there aren't politics sometimes involved in SHIELD. There are. We're working to fix that. But if you join the U.S. Army, you'll fight anyone who threatens American people, or at least who the politicians want you to think are a threat. In SHIELD, we aren't bound by country. We help whoever needs helping. Sometimes that means being a bump in the road for America, most of the time it doesn't. But if you think you can handle being that bump, and if you really want to defeat bullies – regardless of where they come from – then I think SHIELD is the right uniform for you."

If Flash worked for SHIELD, Peter thought while Flash deliberated, then he'd work alongside the Avengers from time to time. His schedule would be hectic at first, but they could survive that easily. Then he'd have missions, but all couples had jobs, and Peter would have missions too. And if they were lucky, those missions would coincide. If he became good enough, maybe he could become an unofficial Avenger, like War Machine.

Peter liked this plan, to be honest. Sure it was more dangerous than being a bodyguard, but so was being Spider-man, and Flash hadn't said a thing about stopping Peter. Must have been what the Captain said to him months ago – something about not stopping someone you love from doing what they love doing or what they feel they HAVE to do… so long as that something wasn't infecting hundreds of people with a deadly virus, of course.

If Flash could give Peter that kind of consideration, then Peter had no right to stop Flash from joining SHIELD or the military or anything else.

"Alright," Flash finally agreed. "I'll enlist. But I don't expect any special treatment past this, alright? I don't want handouts."

"Of course," Steve said, nodding with a small smile. "The director knows I planned to recruit you, but we can handle the specifics after the holidays."

He started to talk about a timeline of events, but Peter was distracted by Flash glancing in his direction and catching him listening. Instead of seeming upset, the blonde sort of smirked and raised his shoulders in a sort of haughty motion. Peter resisted the urge to chuckle. Flash wasn't even officially in, but he was already proud about being recruited. Well, he should be.

The rest of Christmas went without disturbance, thankfully. They watched classic movies as well as one cheesy new one, and Peter leaned on Flash the whole time. Once in awhile, Flash kissed him, or whatever part of him was closest – his hair, his temple, his hand. Mostly, Peter felt like Flash was trying to get in as much innocent physical contact as he could. It was sort of fantastic, and a little bit electrifying. It was quite a change in cuddle behavior from Gwen, but it wasn't bad. Peter found he liked it.

Eventually, Steve checked his watch and announced that he and Tony had to go.

"Tony has a meeting in the morning," he clarified when Tony tried to argue the point. That cut off the mogul's excuses and he conceded.

The two avengers were seen to the porch, given many hugs by Peter and May, and then they were driving off into the frosty night with their little stack of gifts. When they reentered the house, Flash bounded up the stairs to prepare for bed, but May caught Peter before he could follow.

"Peter," she began, cradling his face in her hands and smiling warmly up at him. When had he grown taller than her? She sighed, and it was a mixture of contentment and concern. "You're alright?" she asked.

Now it was Peter's turn to smile warmly. He slid his hands up onto hers and pulled them down to hold them in his own. "I'm alright, Aunt May," he assured and leaned in to kiss her forehead. "I'm better than alright. And I love you more than words, okay?"

"Okay." Her smile was more relaxed now and she embraced him. "I love you too, Peter. More than words can say." They stood still for a long moment, until they heard the shower kick on upstairs, and then she pulled back. "Now go get ready for bed, and don't let that boy freeze to death. He's not as strong as you."

Somehow, she knew. Peter had known it for months, perhaps for a year. May knew his secret. But she never forced him to talk about it, never even mentioned it directly. It lessened the ball of guilt in his stomach every time she reminded him, because he wasn't really lying to her if she knew.

This time, he couldn't help a small laugh, imagining if anyone else had heard her say that. From their appearances, Flash looked much stronger. "Maybe," he said. "But he's stronger than he looks. He'll be okay. I'll make sure of it."

May nodded and excused herself to make sure the house was tidy before going to bed herself. Peter leapt the stairs in two bounds. In his room, he thought about how long Flash had been sleeping on the couch, and then how long Flash had been sleeping in Peter's bed. It wasn't a large bed, but it was bigger than Peter's old twin size. Shortly after Connors, Peter had accidentally, maybe, broken his headboard and frame. It took almost all his money and some help from Aunt May, but he got a new bed. Now he had a full size. It fit him and Flash well enough, at least.

He listened to the shower run and smiled. Yeah, it fit him and Flash well enough. Maybe one day, after Flash finished SHIELD training, they could move in together and get a bigger bed. But this was good for now. Peter sat on it and stripped off his shirt, tossing it near his hamper. Flopping down on his back, he stared at the ceiling and smiled.

Snow had started falling fresh outside, but inside it was warm and comfortable. The perfect holiday contrast. His family had all been around the dinner table, happy and without argument. A few weeks prior, they'd saved the city from a plague, and no new villain had yet arisen. Flash would soon be out of the shower, and they could lay together, absorbing each other's warmth until they both fell asleep. Maybe someday, they would do more than lay together, but not today. Not until Flash was done with therapy, at least. But they didn't need sex to make the night special.

The holiday was somehow perfect, in all the ways it could be. How rarely did that happen?

The shower shut off down the hall and Peter took a deep breath. He didn't have super smell, but he caught the scent of mint body wash before Flash even made it to the bedroom doorway. It was a fresh, clean smell. When Flash stepped into the room, he was in only a towel. Peter stood and went to hug Flash, but the blonde held up a hand to stop him.

"Whoa now," he said, fighting the urge to grin. "I'm sparkling clean. Don't rub your spider germs all over this." He motioned to his chest dramatically and then pointed back over his shoulder. "Go take a shower, and then we'll hug."

Laughing, Peter agreed. "Alright, alright. Have it your way, Mr. Clean."

He did nab a kiss before leaving, though, so he counted it as a win either way. He got to the bathroom and finished disrobing. While he started the water and ensured it was still warm, he almost laughed again. He didn't think he'd be this happy again after Gwen, but he was. He didn't think he could be this relaxed after Harry, but he was.

Over the din of water, Peter could just make out the sound of Flash calling his mom to wish her a merry Christmas. Peter was happy and relaxed because he had his dysfunctional family, because he had strong support outside of his crazy secret life, because he had Flash. They all made this holiday season special, despite the hectic way it had begun, and he loved them for it.

He stepped into the spray and relaxed further under the hot water. The new year would bring fresh faces, fresh challenges, but for the rest of this year, Peter got Flash in his bed, and Gwen in his heart, and Aunt May in his home, and the Avengers in his corner. The year couldn't end any better.

Peter intended to enjoy it as long as possible.

…

…

fin