.
.
It's always the fall.
Peter-3 couldn't stop thinking about what it meant, yelling hoarsely and swooping to catch Peter-1's MJ. He held her in his arms. He could only see Gwen's beautiful, dead face, her closed eyes, when a fearful MJ asked if he was alright. Peter-3 nearly let himself break.
"Hey?"
The memory of smoke, of burning, bright cinders and the gears raining from the clock-tower, fades.
Peter-3 blinks, looking up at Peter-2 walking by. He looks nothing like him with those big blue eyes. Solemn. So solemn.
"You good?" Peter-2 asks, managing both a sense of concern and impatience.
"Sure. Sure, man." Peter-3 reaches up to massage the back of his own neck, awkwardly clearing his throat, blinking again. He gazes around Happy Hogan's apartment bathed in sunset, finally noticing the absence of their other Peter. "Where's—?"
"He's conked out. Thank god—shit!—"
Peter-2 winces, clutching him while trying to turn to sit on a kitchen stool.
"Whoa. Lemme see that." Peter-3 grips his elbow, moving around Peter-2 with a frown. He faces his back, lifting up Peter-2's gray hoodie found in one of the closet's laundry bins. Blood darkens through the gauze. "Oh, okay—shit is right—" he quips.
"S'fine," Peter-2 says dismissively, but almost politely so. He's been off-color for hours. "I think I got more banged up while wrestling."
Peter-3's eyebrows draw together.
"Wrestling?" he mumbles. "Like WWE? You were in WWE? Did you guys have WWE in your universe?"
A chuckle escapes Peter-2's lips.
He groans and clutches himself again as a response, and Peter-3 bats his hand away. Okay, yeah, they need the first aid kit.
"No, it was… it was a short gig," Peter-2 explains. "I was in it for the money and to test my new abilities." Peter-3 listens intently, rummaging in the nearby kit for bandages. "Uncle Ben died around that time. It was my fault," Peter-2 admits, thinning his lips.
"It wasn't," Peter-3 argues, keeping his voice softened.
"How do you know?"
"Because I know you," he says matter-of-factly. "And because you know me. We're kinda the same."
Peter-2 gives him a deadpan look. "I don't think that's really true."
His stomach falls. It's always the fall that gets him, and Peter-3 busies himself with cleaning out Peter-2's wound. Green Goblin stabbed him in a non-vital area of the body. His wound is healing at an accelerated pace, but it makes it look uglier than it is.
"Sorry," Peter-3 says offhandedly, not sure what exactly he means it for.
He pours out the rest of the rubbing alcohol, ignoring the flinch, dabbing him off.
"You lost your Uncle Ben?"
"I, uh…" Peter-3 croaks, nodding and remaining at Peter-2's muscular back, winding the gauze-covered bandages around him. Peter-3's throat clenches. His fingers. His heart. "I didn't know how to deal with it when it happened," he mutters, keeping his head down and concentrating. "Like I said before, I got rageful and bitter. Made mistakes. Went down dark roads. I'm still trying to do better."
"Sounds like it." Peter-2 takes a moment to peer over his shoulder, appearing genuine. "I was right to call you amazing, huh?"
A bashful snort.
"Dude, I thought you called me that 'cause you liked me or something," Peter-3 teases, grinning. He cocks an eyebrow.
The ends of Peter-2's mouth twitch in amusement.
Quickly putting away the rest of the first aid kit's contents, Peter-3 comes around to face him.
Their eyes meet.
It's always the fall, and it's always something Peter-3 realizes too late, when he's falling, falling deep into a connection with a person. Peter-2 gently takes Peter-3's chin with one hand, examining the other man's injuries. His forefinger traces a bloodied scab under Peter-3's lip.
Peter-2 looks older than the other Peter Parkers, but there's a fiercely unwavering earnestness about him.
He knows who he is. He knows what he wants. It's a confidence that Peter-3 knows he lacks.
If only he could… know it…
If only it could be like another Peter knows…
Peter-3 discovers his hands framing Peter-2's face, and that he's bending in, and that another mistake has formed in Peter-3's life. Is it a mistake? Is he stepping out of bounds? Regardless, his mouth flattens up against Peter-2's lips. He muffles a low and thrilled noise.
What feels like a quiver of non-physical heat electrifies Peter-3. It strikes dizzyingly. It heats him on the inside.
Peter-2's lips ease apart for him, dragging hard into the kiss. They suddenly separate, eyes widening.
"That was weird," Peter-2 states.
"Yeah, that—that was really weird." Peter-3 tilts his head, reasoning, "Kinda nice though."
"Kinda."
Peter-3 shrugs.
"I'll take a kinda," he says brightly.
When Peter-2 smiles again, glancing down momentarily to Peter-3's lips, that's when his ears pick up whimpering. Desperate and distressed. That sense that Peter-1 needed help in this universe, needed Peter-3's and Peter-2's help… it's…
"Come on," Peter-2 says gruffly, heading to the hallway.
They barge into the cramped apartment bedroom, on high alert, as Peter-1 gasps himself awake. He's completely drenched in sweat. His eyelids flutter. "Hey, hey," Peter-3 calls out, plopping onto the mattress and worriedly cupping Peter-1's forehead.
Peter-2 snatches Peter-1's wrist to hold him still.
"Shh… Peter, it's us, remember?"
"Take it easy," Peter-2 says encouragingly, adjusting their hands relaxing and then intertwining their fingers. "It's hard right now, I get that."
Peter-1 trembles out a less distressed whimper.
Watching them, Peter-3 feels a burst of warm fondness in his chest.
"G-Guys?" Peter-1 whispers, sniffling. By the dark of twilight, his flushed face seems shiny with tears.
Peter-3 pushes firmly on his shoulder when Peter-1 tries to get up. "Sleep it off," he insists, looking deliberately across the bed to Peter-2 as Peter-1 rolls his head slowly sideways. "We will be here. The magician hasn't sent us back yet. Nobody's stopped by."
Peter-1's face crumbles.
Aunt May…
His own Aunt May would be spending a long night over her textbooks, phoning in about her nursing hours. She would ask Peter-3 to grab a cart of eggs. He doesn't wanna think about coming home to an empty, unlit house if Aunt May… if she was…
"We're here," Peter-3 murmurs, shoving his legs deep under the blanket. He flings an arm around Peter-1, snuggling up.
Peter-1 immediately rolls into him, fisting into Peter-3's sage green henley, making the occasional sniffle.
"Yeah," Peter-2 acknowledges, smiling. "We are."
He curls up to them, lounging down, hunching himself to Peter-1's back.
"We are," Peter-3 repeats quietly, passing on a grateful stare, settling in and tucking Peter-1 under his chin.
It's messed up.
It's always the fall and the tether that comes too late.
Maybe… they have all lived through too much guilt and grief as Peter Parker…
But maybe…they wouldn't rather be anyone else.
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