A/N: Hey, y'all! It has been... a long time. Anyway, I feel like there's so much to say about this fic. I spent so much time getting to know this AU, and almost none of that made it into the final edit—so let me know if you're interested in a part ii. ;) Second, this isn't marked as a crossover because, while it is a Spiderman AU, none of the characters appear and the plot is entirely separate.

For Liza. :) I'm so sorry it's late, but hopefully awkward Oliver makes up for it.

Word Count: 6046

Enjoy!

I.

If there was one thing that was certain in this world, it was that Percy Weasley didn't need saving.

There was a certain superhero, however, who didn't seem to get that.

"That was a close one, wasn't it?" Spiderman stepped over the webbed-up form of the almost-mugger who had tried to get the jump on Percy just off of Times Square and stuck out a hand. "Could've… could've been bad."

Were all heroes this awkward? Percy scowled up at the spandex-clad hero, disgruntled that Spiderman had come to his aid yet again. The only reason he was on the ground was because the fight had become a little too intense once the vigilante intervened. He got to his feet himself, ignoring the other man's hand, and huffed. "I suppose."

He was very aware of how closely Spiderman was watching him; the masked man shifted his weight, as though he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. Percy lifted a brow, still miffed, and gestured past Spiderman to the entrance of the alley. "Would you mind moving?"

"Oh!" The hero jumped aside, but he glanced at Percy once more. "Maybe I should walk you home. You never know who might be lurking in the shadows."

Forging past, not even sparing the other man a glance, Percy replied stiffly, "I don't need protection. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

That should have been the end of it. It was a very clear dismissal; anyone else would have nodded and continued about their own business.

Spiderman, it seemed, was not anyone else.

"Of course you can," he agreed, falling into step beside Percy. Despite the fact that Percy's legs were longer, he easily matched the pace. "I am faster, though. Superpowers."

"Right." Percy barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "That doesn't make the rest of us helpless, however."

"That's not what I meant."

He felt a twinge of regret—he really did appreciate the man's help, because muggings were no small issue—but Percy took pride in his independence. His life was spent working hard to prove himself to others. Spiderman was no exception.

"Don't you have other citizens to protect?"

Spiderman's shoulders sank, but before Percy could try and analyze that, he straightened up again. "You're a tough nut to crack, aren't you?"

Percy blinked, his steps faltering for only a moment. "I—what?"

"Don't worry, though," Spiderman continued, as if Percy had never spoken, "I don't give up easily. Or at all, really. I'm incredibly stubborn."

"Don't give—what are you talking about?" Percy demanded. "Give up on what?"

Spiderman pointed at him. His mask was expressionless, but Percy suspected that underneath it, his lips were curled in a mischievous smile that could rival Fred and George's. "Breaking down those walls!"

Walls? Their conversation hadn't even lasted twenty minutes. For all Spiderman knew, he'd just rescued any other disgruntled citizen. What walls could he possibly have identified?

But before Percy could demand more answers, Spiderman shot a web from his wrist and catapulted into the sky, letting out a whoop as he reached the top of his arc. Percy watched him go for a minute, growing smaller every millisecond, bewildered and—despite himself—intrigued. Spiderman was definitely a showoff (anyone who had seen his airborne acrobatics would agree), but there was a certain mystery about him that no one in New York could deny.

A gust of wind blew, and Percy drew his jacket tighter around his shoulders, shaking himself out of his thoughts. It was later than he had initially thought; the light was dimming as the sun quickly made its descent below the horizon. Not wanting to be caught alone on the streets at such an hour, Percy began walking once more.

He mind, though, was still on a vigilante that seemed much too invested in getting to know him.


II.

A week later, and Percy's first encounter with the vigilante was all but forgotten. That wasn't to say he'd forgotten about Spiderman—it was impossible to, seeing as the new hero was all anyone at school ever talked about—but he'd almost convinced himself that their little exchange had ended when he left the alley. Because, really, why would someone who spent his time doing such extraordinary things take any special interest in Percy?

Besides, he had other, more pressing matters to attend to. Namely, his brothers.

Fred and George, unlike their older brother, were athletic prodigies. Both made the football team upon entering the high school, and both, as sophomores, held incredible promise in the game. As a result, they were much-loved by a majority of the student body.

Outshining them, though, was their good friend and teammate, Oliver Wood.

Oliver was one of those people that everyone knew and liked. Even Percy could begrudgingly admit that the football star was a kind, likeable person, though his easy confidence annoyed Percy to no end. Maybe he saw too much of Fred and George in his fellow senior, but somehow, he always felt small in Oliver's presence.

Now, Percy was in the library. Government wasn't an easy class, but he enjoyed the challenge of it—he loved anything complex that he could sink his teeth into, really—and Percy often spent his lunchtimes there as he studied for it.

He didn't really do friends. They were a sort of complex that he didn't have much time for—all emotional, not logical.

Fred and George could handle the social aspects of life. He would make his footprints in the world of academics.

Bill could travel; Charlie could go on daring rescues; Percy would make a difference. Unfortunately, some classmates of his didn't seem to realize that in order to achieve his ambitions, he needed to concentrate.

"Percy!" Oliver's beaming grin split his face. "Thought you might be here."

Percy didn't look up from his textbook, but he gripped it a little tighter. "I'm in here every day at this time," he replied dryly, "as you very well know."

It was true; Oliver burst into the library almost every day. There was nothing coincidental about this meeting, and he knew it. It should have felt nice to have someone check in on him everyday, but Oliver's friends usually followed him in—and Percy knew what they all thought of him.

Not cool like Bill had been. Not wild like Charlie. Not funny like Fred or George.

He was the outlier in the Weasley family, and he knew it. He had always known it; he didn't need the jocks' opinion on the matter. So, when Oliver came in and they trailed behind, he was immediately on guard.

Oliver pulled out the chair opposite Percy and invited himself to sit down. Percy's brow furrowed slightly, but he still didn't do much to acknowledge the other man. Was it rude? Yes. He'd admit that freely. Did he care?

A little. But Percy was prideful, and he was acutely aware of how closely they were being watched by people who… were not on his side. It was no secret to him that no one understood why someone as popular as Oliver tried so hard with Percy, who seemed determined to be alone.

The sleep deprived, wanna-be law student and the hugely successful high school athlete. A match made in heaven, Fred had once said.

Calloused fingers wrapped on the open textbook page, finally drawing Percy's attention up to Oliver's face. Kind brown eyes were peering at him, a hint of worry present in his gaze. "I heard you were nearly mugged last week," he murmured. "I meant to check in earlier, but you seemed… distracted."

Percy blinked, caught off guard. How had Oliver known that? He hadn't told anyone about his encounter. Had a classmate been watching from the sidelines? Percy doubted it, but it was the only explanation.

He cleared his throat. "I'm fine, thank you."

But Oliver pressed the matter. "Are you sure? Because it's kind of a big deal—"

The boys behind them snickered, and Percy felt his ears grow hot. "I'm very much capable of handling myself, thank you," he said tightly.

Oliver seemed to deflate. The snickers grew louder. "Right, right. Of course. But, uh, you saw Spiderman, didn't you? That's sort of cool, isn't it? What… what did you think of him?"

"I—I don't know." Percy frowned at the question. "What you'd expect, I suppose. Fast. Efficient."

"That's it?" Oliver's voice was almost outraged, but there was something else coloring his tone. Almost like… desperation? "He didn't leave any more of an impression?"

So that's what this was all about. Oliver had some sort of fascination, or perhaps even infatuation, with Queens' favorite vigilante. Percy was just a means to get the latest scoop. He closed his textbook abruptly and began stuffing it in his bag. It made sense, really—but a part of him was still hurt that Oliver's concern hadn't been genuine. He tried not to let it show on his face, but Oliver must have sensed that he'd given himself away, because his eyes widened as Percy stood up.

"I meant—I was just wondering—"

"I was pushed against a wall, threatened a bit, and then he intervened," Percy told him sharply. "He offered to walk me home, and that was that. That was the encounter. If you want to see what he's really like, you can get saved by him yourself. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have more important things to attend to than gossiping about Spiderman."

He marched past the football team, who all seemed startled by his sudden outburst, and stormed out of the library. It hadn't been his best moment, he realized, but he was too annoyed with himself to be bothered by that.

It just made him want to forget about Spiderman even more.


III.

"So, it occurred to me that we didn't really introduce ourselves last time," Spiderman told Percy as he webbed up some bank robbers to the side of a building. Percy almost missed his words—his heart was still racing from the adrenaline of being inside of a bank during an attempted robbery. "So, let's try this again. Hi, I'm Spiderman."

Percy stared at the hero's outstretched hand in bewilderment. "What?"

"I said I'm—"

"Yes, I know. I know who you are. But is now the best time—"

"It's the perfect time!" Spiderman gripped Percy's hand and shook it. "So, Spiderman. And you're…?"

Well, it couldn't hurt, could it? "Percy. Percy… Weasley."

"Nice to meet you, Percy." Spiderman was almost vibrating—leftover adrenaline, perhaps? Or maybe he was just that energetic—and it made it hard for Percy to focus. He couldn't deny that he was shaken, though. Police were swarming the premises, and it almost made the situation scarier. This wasn't just a mugging by a man who, though considerably bigger than him, was unarmed. The men who had done this… they had guns.

They might have hurt someone.

But Spiderman swooped in.

A hand touched his shoulder, and Percy jerked back, his blue eyes wild behind his glasses. Spiderman hurriedly put his hands up in surrender, and his voice was apologetic when he said, "Sorry! Sorry. Are you… are you all right?" He hesitated a moment, then added, "It's okay to be scared, you know."

Percy dragged a hand over his face. "I just…" He sucked a breath in. "I have to get home to my brothers. I don't want to be involved in this."

He didn't want to be questioned by the police, or checked out by the paramedics who had arrived on scene. He wanted to go home and curl up with his brothers. Ron could always tell when he was having a bad day, even if they rarely got along—maybe he'd make Percy a cup of hot chocolate. Maybe Percy could call Bill, who was always around to talk.

Anything to put this hellish experience behind him.

Spiderman tilted his head to the side. "Don't want to talk to the boys in blue? You're not hurt, are you?"

Percy shook his head. "No. I—"

"Can take care of yourself. Yeah, I remember." A beat, and then Spiderman was sliding an arm around Percy's waist. "I can get you outta here quickly. Hang on, okay? It's not a ride everyone enjoys."

Percy narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Before he could piece together what Spiderman intended to do, the hero shot a web into the air, and then they were flying.

Percy cursed colorfully, panic cramming out all of his earlier anxieties. He shouted in Spiderman's ear and threw his arms around the hero's neck; he wasn't even too embarrassed to wrap his legs around the other man's waist. The wind whipped Percy's red curls out of his face, biting at all of his exposed skin, and then—

And then they were weightless. They were at the peak of the arc, Spiderman was aiming another web, and for a moment, everything was still. The lights of New York were scattered below, a new perspective of the city laid out before Percy.

It was beautiful. Suddenly, it made sense that Spiderman would want to do this so often—Percy would kill for a view like this.

But his revelation lasted for only a millisecond, and then they were falling. His stomach flew up into his throat, and he shouted again, this time caught between terror and elation. After what felt like hours but what could only have been seconds, Spiderman lowered them both gently to the ground.

Percy braced himself against Spiderman's shoulders, his legs wobbling like jelly. He stared wide-eyed at the hero, completely out of breath despite the fact that all he did was cling to Spiderman.

His heart was threatening to burst right out of his chest. Even through the mask, Percy could tell that the hero had an odd look on his face, and there was this… tension between them. Spiderman sucked in a slow breath, as though he wanted to say something but was unsure how to phrase it. Percy's grip on his shoulders tightened as he waited for the hero to say something—not even sure why he was anticipating it so desperately.

"I could've done a flip in the air, but something tells me you wouldn't have appreciated that."

And just like that, the moment was over. Percy scrunched his nose in disbelief, then took a step back, removing his hands from Spiderman's shoulders. "No, I… I wouldn't have." His glasses would have been lost to the streets below—it was a miracle they hadn't been knocked off by the swinging, in all honesty. "Erm… thank you, I suppose. For getting me out of there and for… the bank."

"That? That was nothing." Spiderman waved his words aside, and Percy felt irritation bubbling up inside of him. It was hard enough to choke out the thanks, but to have it completely ignored? That was a heavy blow to his pride. "I'll see you around, Percy."

And then he was running down the sidewalk. Percy watched numbly as Spiderman extended an arm and shot a web towards a nearby building, then yanked himself into the sky.

For a moment, all Percy could do was stare at the spot the superhero had been as his heart pounded in his chest. Then the sound of breaking glass ripped him from his stupor, and Percy whipped around to see Ron standing on the front step, a broken cup at his feet and his jaw hanging open.

It was only then that Percy realized that Spiderman had, somehow, delivered him right to his front door.


IV.

In the days following, Percy didn't see much of Spiderman in person. He did, however, binge many of the videos featuring the vigilante on YouTube.

He watched every video in private, of course—he'd lock himself in his bedroom and keep the volume down low because his headphones were broken, a slight blush staining his cheeks as he watched some of Spiderman's stunts. Some of them were nauseating to watch—Percy could throw a punch, but he wasn't a violent person by nature—but most just showed the vigilante showing off as he jumped from skyscrapers and performed elboratate acrobatics.

Had it been anyone else, the showing off would have made Percy roll his eyes. For some reason, though, he found himself a little amused by the hero's showboating.

As soon as he realized the fact, Percy shut his computer and pushed it away. It was ridiculous, but he was a little embarrassed by how amusing he found the vigilante. He'd never felt this way about anyone before—not even Fred and George could make his lips twitch with their antics—his eye, yes, but never his lips.

This was new territory, and Percy hated venturing outside of his comfort zone.

Mentally, he made himself a list of reasons why this weird… fascination with Spiderman was a bad idea:

1. He didn't know how old he was.

2. Spiderman sought out crime, and Percy really didn't have a death wish thank you very much.

3. There were millions of people in the city—there was absolutely no reason that Percy should stick out to the hero.

It stung, but the last point was painfully true. He was just a senior in high school. There wasn't anything notable about that.

And yet… Spiderman somehow knew where he lived. Which led Percy to think that, maybe, they knew each other outside of the mask. The possibility sent a thrill of excitement but also trepidation through Percy. A part of him—a very large part—was itching to uncover the mystery, but the other part of him was a little more logical. He'd have to put a lot of time and energy into figuring out the hero's identity, especially considering law enforcement hadn't been able to pick up any clues on the subject, and he was reluctant to diminish any of his studying time. More than that, trying to find out Spiderman's identity might put Percy or the hero himself in danger; that was the last thing he wanted.

No, it was better for this mystery to remain unsolved.

For weeks, Percy managed to curb his curiosity (an impressive feat indeed, for him). But it was like his mind was trying to compensate for the one question it shouldn't try and solve—he started puzzling out everyone's secrets.

He hadn't ever tried to pay attention to his peers before, much less the gossip mill, but he needed a distraction from Spiderman. He began to notice athletes covertly opening and closing their lockers; he caught snippets of whispers in the hall that had never registered before; he saw notes exchanged in the classroom; he realized that he had an eye for detail and an intelligence impressive enough to help him connect the dots.

Really, if the law school thing was slow to become a reality, he wouldn't do too badly as a reporter.

Percy wasn't the only one who was changing, however. Oliver Wood was spending more time with him than ever before, and it… wasn't horrible. Mostly because he left his friends somewhere else.

And maybe a little bit because Oliver wasn't a bad person, and sometimes Percy enjoyed their conversations.

Today, though, Oliver approached him wringing his hands. It was so startling to see the nervous display—Oliver was the most confident person that Percy had ever met, barring maybe Bill—that he immediately set down the book he'd been reading.

"Are you all right?" he asked hesitantly. They didn't really do emotions. They talked sports statistics (Percy because he loved the numbers, Oliver because he was a sports fanatic), they talked school. That was it.

"Yeah, yeah." Oliver cleared his throat and sat down heavily in the chair across from Percy. "I'm… fine. Just—can you keep a secret?"

Oh, boy. "Yes," he said slowly, thinking back on the little business of Fred and Geroge's that he'd discovered but hadn't—perhaps uncharacteristically—ratted them out about. "I can."

Oliver's brown eyes bore into him for a second before he huffed out a soft laugh—unlike his usual brazen one. "Of course you can. I don't even know why I asked, honestly. I guess I'm stalling."

Percy waited for him to continue. When the silence stretched on, he waved his hand to prompt Oliver.

"Right." Oliver ran his palms over his jeans. "Right. We're friends, right?"

"I… suppose so."

Oliver's eyes widened. "You suppose so?"

"I meant," Percy cursed his response, "I meant that I hadn't realized you thought of me that way. But yes. I would consider us friends." It was a frighteningly honest statement, but it would have to wait to be unpacked. Percy had the unsettling feeling that whatever it was that Oliver was trying to say, it was big.

The other boy's shoulders slumped in relief. "Good. Me too. Okay. Um, so what I wanted to tell you is that I'm—"

The fire alarm rang.

Percy blinked, for a second completely unable to believe his unfortunate luck. Oliver took it as the out it was: he cocked his head to the side, as though he was listening to something Percy couldn't hear, and ran out of the door. He shot Percy an apologetic glance, which Percy found himself unable to respond to.

He was a rule-follower, though, so Percy abandoned his things and joined the rest of the students crowding in the hallway. It was most likely a drill, although this was an unusual time to have one…

He looked at the teachers dotting the hallway. Some looked just as confused as the students; others were tense, their mouths set in grim lines.

And then one girl next to Percy, who'd been texting her friend on her phone, looked up with wide eyes.

"Oh my god," she breathed, and then louder, "oh my god!"

She caught enough people's attention, and Percy could feel his stomach sinking with horror when she shouted the next words.

"There's a fire! A real fire—"

And it could have been anything. The intercom could have short circuited, there could have been a contained fire in the chemistry lab, someone could have used the microwave incorrectly—it could have been anything but the giant orange blaze that the students were now picturing, but it was that image that sent everyone into a panic.

Percy grunted as someone behind him shoved him to the side, sprinting for the doors. Every drill since elementary school went out of their heads as everyone swarmed towards the exits. Percy, who was already prone to claustrophobia, found his throat tightening as people pressed in on him from all sides. His body was shoved around; he could barely stay on his feet, much less move forwards. There were terrifying moments where he was lifted off the ground, suspended completely by the students surrounding him. For one very real, very terrifying moment, Percy feared he would be trampled alive.

It was that thought that spurred Percy into action. He unfroze and forced his feet flat on the floor, grounding himself. Then he began moving.

It was difficult to work through the crowd, especially when his panic was so palpable, but Percy had enough presence of mind to head towards the exits. After an indiscernible amount of time—it could have been seconds, maybe minutes, maybe eternity—Percy remembered that his two younger brothers were also in the building.

That was an entirely different fear.

"Fred," he croaked, the sound lost in the din. "George."

There was a buzzing in his ears, and then suddenly—a wave of cool air hit his face. Percy hadn't even realized how stifling it was inside until he'd reached the outdoors, but it was easier to think now. With great effort, Percy compartmentalized his anxiety and focused on locating his brothers. He sent a quick text, but doubted he'd get an answer. He ignored every safety protocol that school systems throughout the years had tried to drill into him and went off in search of twin redheads.

He'd never been more grateful for the signature Weasley hair.

Looking at the school building, Percy couldn't see any flames—good. It put a small part of him at ease, but he wasn't out of the woods yet. He knew Fred and George had a penchant for danger and very little self-preservation; it wouldn't surprise him if they'd taken advantage of the panic and slipped away to find the source of the problem.

The mere thought made his palms sweat.

Percy scanned the crowd, pushing himself as closely to the building as he felt comfortable, but there was no sign of his brothers. His paranoia and anxiety grew by the second. What would Bill do in this situation? Charlie? He didn't know. All he knew was that he really, really didn't want to have to tell his mother that…

No. The situation wasn't dire yet. Everything was fine. Percy set his jaw stubbornly, determined to convince himself that that was a fact. They had to be fine.

The fire department arrived shortly. Percy couldn't relax, though, because he knew that the fire was a bigger problem now. He didn't have to see it to know. He could just tell. The tension was practically tangible; every word from the people surrounding him was clipped. This was escalating. And he still couldn't find Fred or George.

Then he noticed the smoke staining the sky, and his vision tunneled. Suddenly, his own safety no longer mattered. Percy knew in that moment, without a doubt, that his brothers were still in the building and he would be damned before he let them stay there without trying to save them.

He managed to duck beneath a fireman's arm, but he couldn't escape the red and blue blur that snatched him off the ground.

Percy let out a strangled yell, kicking against the person who'd grabbed him—Spiderman?—and tried to gasp out an explanation.

"Put me down—my brothers are in there, I can't just leave them alone—put me DOWN!"

"I'll get them!" Spiderman shouted into his ear. Was it Percy's imagination, or was his voice shaking slightly? "I'll get your brothers! But you need to stay here, because I can't save them if I have to worry about saving you, too."

Every fiber of his being told him to protest. But another part of him acknowledged that Spiderman was right; he would only be a liability in this state. And maybe it was safest for Fred and George if he let someone who knew what to do handle this.

His mouth had other ideas. "I can't leave them there! You don't understand, they'll walk towards the danger or do something equally as stupid—"

"I've got them," Spiderman cut him off firmly. His tone was enough to get through to Percy's frantic brain, and, after handing Percy over to one of the nurses on site who gave him a shock blanket, Spiderman ran back into the building.

It seemed like it took an eternity, but Spiderman saved the day—just like he always did.

Percy didn't really remember much—it was all a blur—but he remembered Spiderman running out of the building with two ash-covered boys hanging off of him. Fred and George were shaken and pale, their voices hoarse from the smoke, but they were blessedly alive.

Percy didn't even bother trying to hide his sob as he pulled his brothers against his chest. Paramedics swarmed them, but Percy gripped the hand of each boy in an unrelenting grip. It had been too close. It had been too close.

He found out later that they'd been mucking about in a supply closet and had gotten stuck when a panicking student accidentally shoved something in front of the door. The fire hadn't been very serious, but the smoke did enough damage on its own; luckily, that was the worst of the injuries the twins endured before Spiderman found them.

When Percy glanced back to thank the hero, all he saw was the crowd.


V.

After the fire, Percy had two choices. He could either forget that Spiderman had, somehow, known who his brothers were, writing it off as the Weasley resemblance…

Or he could try and put the pieces together.

Percy tapped his pencil against the desk, pondering his options. He wanted to respect Spiderman's privacy, but at the same time, he had this… feeling. A feeling that Spiderman wouldn't entirely mind being found out by him.

Percy had been called big headed before, and maybe this was the final proof that those accusations were correct, but he still couldn't shake it. A disbelieving laugh escaped his lips. This was ridiculous. He was Percy Weasley. He knew what he was going to do; this debate was a last-ditch effort to stall himself.

Really, it was a wonder he'd waited this long to solve the mystery.

But there was some unfinished business he had to attend to first: namely, Oliver Wood. For the first time in his life, Percy pulled out his phone during class to send off a text.

What were you going to tell me?

A reply came just two minutes later.

It wasn't a big deal. Forget about it.

Judging by the fact that Percy had been left on read for an entire minute before the reply came through, he guessed that Oliver wasn't being entirely truthful. Any other day, he might have let Oliver get away with it and moved on to the bigger question: Spiderman's identity.

Oliver would have pushed him, though. He'd be insistent that Percy regain the courage to say whatever he'd been trying to say, and he'd listen patiently without judgement. And Percy… wanted to be there for Oliver, the same way Oliver was there for him. It was a sudden realization, but it almost felt like Percy had known for a long time without acknowledging it.

So he took the leap of faith.

Meet me in the library in ten minutes. Then you can tell me all about it.

Be there, Wood.


I.

When Percy arrived in the library, there wasn't anyone there. That in itself wasn't unusual; almost no one used it at this time of day. A part of him worried that Oliver wouldn't show, but he reasoned that the other boy might just be having trouble getting out of class. He adjusted his glasses, scolded himself for feeling so nervous about meeting Oliver, of all people, and made his way over to their table.

Everything would be fine.

He repeated the phrase like a mantra in his head. He wondered what Oliver wanted to tell him—he's what? Failing a class and wanted tutoring? Afraid of spiders? Worried about an upcoming football game? Dating someone?

Selfishly, Percy hoped it wasn't the last one.

He reached their table, his eyes catching on a folded-up piece of paper taped to the top. His name was written in Oliver's untidy scrawl. Frowning slightly, Percy pulled it loose and opened it to read.

Come out to the courtyard.

A soft laugh escaped his lips. Percy quirked a brow and stuffed the note in his pocket, then headed out to the courtyard. Butterflies erupted in his stomach as he neared; whatever this was, it was big. Still, he was almost amused by Oliver's theatrics… perhaps excited was a better word.

He stepped out into the courtyard and looked around for Oliver. It was quiet—as quiet as New York could be, anyway—and Percy wandered around until he reached the greenhouse the botany class used. On a whim, he pushed the door open. He looked through the greenery, and then—

There was Spiderman, hanging upside down from a steel terrace. And there, bared for all to see, was his face.

"You know, I'm actually, er, really glad you're the one who came through the door. In hindsight, this was a terrible plan."

His eyes a little wider than they'd normally be, but face otherwise stoic, Percy approached the vigilante. "You think?" he asked, deadpan. "Anyone could have seen you."

Oliver sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. His brown hair was pulled away from his face by gravity, and Percy studied him closely. The pieces were falling into place now: Spiderman knew where his house was because Oliver came over all the time to speak with the twins or study with Percy; Spiderman knew his brothers and where they were most likely to be during the fire because he knew Fred and George and their tendency to run into danger; Oliver left abruptly to go save the city.

Oliver Wood was Spiderman.

And he was staring anxiously at Percy.

"I've never actually been known for my brains," Oliver muttered with a small grin. It looked funny upside down. "That's kinda your department, Perce."

Percy tilted his head to the side but otherwise ignored the compliment. "Is this what you wanted to tell me?"

"Yeah," Oliver admitted. "I… I have to say, this reaction is a lot more underwhelming that I was expecting. I thought there would be more swearing, if I'm honest. Maybe some swooning."

"I don't swoon," Percy said immediately.

"I know." Oliver's smile turned more fond. "That's why… that's why I like you."

Percy took a step closer. His nose was inches away from Oliver's now. "Oh yeah?" he murmured. Then, when his friend didn't respond, "You're still an asshole. I don't know if you fully comprehend just how dangerous this is, but—"

"I comprehend," Oliver interrupted firmly. "This is like, it's my job, you know? Because… because if you have a gift, you need to use it to its full potential. Its best potential. And I learned that from watching you and your big brain, so" —he wagged his finger at Percy— "you can't complain."

Percy's breath caught in his throat. He felt a warmth blooming in his chest at the compliment. He cherished his intelligence, and he worked every day to make sure that he used what he was given to be the best that he could be. For Oliver to recognize that—and not only that, but utilize the same lesson—he couldn't describe how that made him feel.

"Smooth," he tried to say sarcastically, but he stumbled over the word slightly. He swallowed thickly, then asked the question that weighed on his mind. "So, Spiderman. What now?"

Oliver's Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped. "Well, you know. I was kinda hoping this was the part where you say you like me too, and then… I don't know. I sort of assumed you'd take the lead."

Be brave, Weasley. Don't screw this up.

He knew what he wanted to do. But wanting and needing were two different things, and something needed to be said first.

"I don't need saving," he told Oliver. "I'm not your damsel, and I don't need protection."

This wasn't a fairy tale. He was more than the hero's love interest; he was more than a promised happily ever after. Percy wasn't going to wait around for someone to save him, or lead the way, or sweep him off of his feet.

Oliver may be the knight, but Percy could get out of the tower on his own—even if it meant a few more bumps and bruises. If Oliver expected any differently, then Percy knew they wouldn't work.

Oliver's brow furrowed. "I don't do it because you need it," he said slowly. "I do it because I want you to be safe. I just… I dunno, Perce. I would just rather not see you get decked, I suppose."

And somehow, that was all Percy needed to hear.

"Well, in that case…" He cupped the back of Oliver's head. "I think we can sort out an arrangement."

He pressed his lips against Oliver's. It was awkward at this angle, and neither were skilled kissers; they were clumsy at best. Still, it ignited something in Percy's chest—a fire that he wanted to chase for the rest of his life. If this was how Oliver felt swinging through the air, then he could understand the other boy's tendency to jump off buildings a little better.

When he pulled away, Oliver's eyes were blown wide and there was a dopey smile on his face. Percy could feel his ears going red, and he cleared his throat.

"You're still an asshole for not telling me sooner," he whispered.

Oliver's laugh resounded through the greenhouse, and Percy let himself smile.