Archive of Our Own

“Nice guys generally finish first,” said Ned, putting his head in MJ’s lap. “But I’m just kinda sick of it finishing, y’know?”

“I,” she started and then looked up from her book, giving him more of her attention. “What?” She was in their living room in Pasadena. Their roommate Dave was out. She worked for the ACLU; Ned was a grad student at CalTech. Peter was in grad school at Metro back in New York. Ned missed him. But living with MJ was awesome. Living with Dave made rent on a place with an okay kitchen affordable.

“The whole nice guys finish last thing is said by assholes. Nice guys get tons of dates. I date, I have a great time. I date a lot,” he said.

She nodded and seemed to take pity on him. She even stroked his hair, “You date so much, I’ve dated you and I’m a lesbian.”

She had dated Peter back in high school. Peter had been on that one disastrous date with Liz. Then he and MJ had dated for four months and only held hands for three and a half months of it. Ned had asked what they were doing, and Peter had said they were taking it slow.

Then they had kissed, and Peter had told Ned that he totally understood why Harry Potter had described his first kiss as wet. Ned had thought Peter was really missing the point as Cho Chang was crying when Harry kissed her. MJ had understood her feelings a lot better and confided in Ned, “I’m pretty sure I’m gay. He’s a perfect boy, and I’m… I’m pretty sure I’m gay.” Less than two months later, she was dating a pretty girl named Gwen.

It took Peter a hell of a lot longer to figure out he was gay.

Ned had always known he was bi. In high school, he had done okay. He’d dated Betty and Cindy. College was where he hit his stride. Pop culture always said fat guys didn’t do well. But he found that wasn’t true. Being kind, thoughtful and remembering birthdays took you far in romance. And some people might call Ned a village bike. But, the thing was, he usually had fun. He liked sex. He liked dating. He liked being in a couple. He liked his body. While it was hard to sometimes be judged for his size, he usually picked his partners well enough that he was neither fetishized nor criticized.

He got around, and he got a reputation. Hell, when MJ had wanted to “double check her lesbianism,” she’d asked Ned to date her. He’d laughed and said, “What?”

“I just want to be sure. I’ve never been with a guy and you’re the only dude who I can stand the idea of touching my body.”

“That should tell you how gay you are: you can’t stomach the idea of men touching you.”

“Come on, Ned, I’ve heard you’re great in bed. I know I’m great in bed we should do this.”

“Who did you hear that from?”

“Quite a few people,” she’d said. “Please?”

“Fine, but I don’t put out before the second date so I’m taking you to dinner and dancing.”

They had gone to dinner and clubbing and hugged goodnight. Then they had gone out for hibachi and a terrible action flick and came home, and Ned said, “How are you feeling? What do you want to do? I’m open to whatever you want to do.”

She had leaned in and kissed him, “Show me what sex with a dude is like?”

And Ned was great in bed. MJ was shaking in his arms and moaning and repeatedly saying yes. Afterward, she was still cuddled up with him, and he said, “So, what do you think?”

“That was fantastic. Seriously, all the rumors about you are wholly true. But I am so gay. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he assured her.

She started to climb out of bed. He watched and said, “You don’t want to cuddle?”

She scrunched up her nose. It made her even cuter than usual. She really was one of the prettiest people he had ever seen. “I really want to shower. I’m sorry. You’re still my best friend. Do you hate me?”

“No, you’re still my best friend.”

“Other than Peter,” she said with a wry smile.

“Other than Peter,” he agreed.

Now, he explained, “I’m sick of dating for two, three weeks. I’m sick of being a notch in people’s belt because people know I’m good in bed. I want to be someone’s boyfriend. I want something serious.”

She studied him and said, “Did I use you?”

“MJ, that was over a year ago,” he scoffed.

“That’s not a no,” she replied.

“I need someone who wants to cuddle,” he said. He shrugged as much as he could while lying with his head in her lap. “You’re still my best friend.”

“Other than Peter.”

“Other than Peter,” he agreed.

“Have you spoken to Peter?” she asked.

“Time difference,” he shrugged. “Every time I have a chance to text, he’s either in class or patrolling. So we haven’t spoken. He’s all loved up with Flash.”

“Eww,” she said. “So what’s you’re new plan for dating?”

“I’m thinking of getting on You Know Who I Am.”

“Tony Stark’s dating app?”

“I’ve slept with half of Pasadena's applicable dating pool.”

“A quarter,” she corrected.

“I think getting on an app with no pictures will let me get to know people without a face or name. It means that I’ll actually get into a real relationship. I might end up dating someone I’ve already slept with, but this time with a really solid connection.”

Her eyebrows knitted together, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For treating you like an experiment.”

“You can’t make yourself straight for me. I need a nice boy or girl who wants me for me. Not the rumors of how good I am in bed.”

“You’re really good at dating, not just in bed. The dates were really fun.”

“I know,” he said without hubris. “I’m excellent and want someone who wants everything I want.”

“So, an app?” she asked.

“I’m setting it to Pasadena and New York. I’m going home in a few months. I wouldn’t mind doing long distance for a while. It forces me to not put out too soon.”

“Totally,” said MJ. “Great call, Ned.”

He started to make his profile, answering a lot of really hard questions. Some of it was fun, some of it was funny, some of it was moral conundrums. Some questions he read out loud to MJ, others he just clicked through easily.

*

He made some mistakes. The first was that he forgot about his body. He could see from the woman’s face that she was disappointed by his size. The date was awkward as fuck. As he walked home, he opened Grindr. He had never used it, but he’d been told it was more reliable than Tinder. God, his life was a horror show: he recognized everyone on there.

A guy messaged Ned saying that catfishing wasn’t cool and that he shouldn’t use pictures of the local Casanova. Ned recognized him and replied, “No, Matt, it’s me, Ned. I’m on here now.”

“If you’re you, tell me something only Ned would know,” Matt replied.

“I told you to get a mole on your left cheek checked out. You were clear, so we celebrated with red wine on your roof.”

“Holy shit, what the fuck are you doing on here?”

“Not feeling good about myself. I just went on a terrible date. I feel horrible about my body, and now I’m looking to feel great.”

“I would love to feel great with you! I’m at Baja Ben’s. Come have a margarita, and then we’ll go back to my place?”

“Solid. I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

He went to Baja Ben’s and saw Matt. Matt rushed to him and hugged him. “I’m sorry your night sucked. Let’s get you a drink and then get you in me, yeah?”

Ned laughed and then leaned in to kiss him. Matt melted against him. When Ned pulled back, he said, “Yeah, sounds great.”

*

His second mistake was meeting people too soon. He forgot not to be slutty. He’d been talking to a woman for three weeks. That was as long as, or longer than, most of his relationships. When they met, she recognized him; she was friends with a guy he dated. But he brushed that off and didn’t worry about it because he thought there was a connection. She asked him to go home with her after the first time they met in real life, and he didn’t hesitate. They had been dating for weeks. It wasn’t really a first date. When she told him afterward that she had an early morning, he felt like crying.

He did cry in his Uber and said, “Shit, I have a perfect passenger score, and now I’m crying in your car, and you have every right to mark me down.”

“Just don’t vomit,” said the woman. Then she said, “Are you Ned Leeds?”

“Oh, God, why?”

“You dated my little sister, Annie Davis?”

He nodded, “Yeah.” She had dumped him while preparing to defend her dissertation. He’d been a fun distraction, but she had wanted to focus on her real life. “Is she Dr. Davis now?”

“She is,” the woman smiled. “Are you okay?”

“Bad date. I’m tired of being treated like a fun run instead if a marathon.” His phone sounded with the noise of You Know Who I Am’s alert. He opened it and saw a message from someone called PeanutButterPumpernickel. The guy had added his pronouns to his profile.

The guy had written, “Hey, we have a ninety-six percent match. I assume that means we’ll be great friends. I have the app set to friends, not romance, but there are a lot of creeps on here who lament not being able to send pictures of their junk within two seconds of saying hey. I really want to talk to someone who isn’t a creep.”

He sniffed and typed, “I just left a date from this app where I thought there was a connection, but I got used for sex. A person can turn out to be a creep even when they seem nice, but I think I’m not a creep; I hope I’m not a creep.”

“Oh, man, I am so sorry that happened to you.”

“Can you cheer me up or distract me with a bad dating story?” he typed.

“Well, I’ve only ever had one serious boyfriend. We just broke up. We were together for over two years. It turns out, he’s straight. And not, like, figured it out and came out, so we broke up. He’s always known and been cheating on me with girls the whole time. I have a great job with connections. He networked through me. He had a whole plan. He got a dream job, and I came home with champagne to find him in my bed with a woman. Worst part is, we don’t even live together. He had a key, but he never wanted to move in. So he was cheating on me in my home where he doesn’t live. I’m tight with my boss, so he’s lost the job, lost the networking connections, but… it’s just a lot. My boss suggested this app because my work is kinda high profile. I’m not famous or anything, but it’s nice to get to know people without them possibly recognizing me. And I’m not looking to date. I’m looking for friends. I don’t have many friends I talk to regularly. Having had so many creepers get weird on this app… I don’t know, man, maybe dating a straight liar wasn’t so bad if it kept me out of this scene.”

The message came over a few texts. It had him staring at his phone open-mouthed, “Holy shit,” he typed back. “That’s awful. I am so sorry you went through that. That’s terrible. I can’t believe that’s your first dating experience. That’s the worst. You deserve better than that. I mean, I don’t know you, but, everyone deserves better than that.”

“I’ve eaten about a bathtub’s worth of Ben and Jerry’s and watched a ton of ‘80s romcoms to heal myself. I’ll be okay. But, hey, did you know that the AI on this app forced me to use ‘home’ instead of saying what kind of housing unit I live in? I love that it anonymizes stuff, but that’s taking it to an extreme.”

Ned got out of the Uber and thanked Annie’s sister. He went to his bedroom as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake MJ or Dave. He and PeanutButterPumpernickel texted for two hours. It made the night a lot better.

*

Peter had broken up with Flash. It took three and a half weeks for Ned to even find out about it, and he felt like a heel. They were on FaceTime. It was the first time in over two months that they had talked. A good friend would have known sooner. He had spoken to PeanutButterPumpernickel every single day since they first connected, and they weren’t talking about anything romantic.

Peter laughed off Ned’s guilt and cited time differences and schedules. He told Ned that he and Flash had grown apart, that work was so hectic he'd been neglecting his relationship. He said, “Look, in the end, he wasn’t a good boyfriend, and it took me too long to realize that because I was distracted. But I should take some responsibility because… It took me too long to realize.” He sounded so sad that Ned wanted to look into flights right away. Then Peter added, “There’s more, but I don’t want to talk about it yet. I’m still thinking about it and working through it. We’ll have too many beers when you come home and talk about all my feelings.”

“I love you, Peter; you’re my best friend.”

“You live with MJ.”

“Because we live in Pasadena; you will never not be my best friend.”

He wasn’t imagining things; Peter definitely looked tearful as he said, “You’re my best friend too.”

“Are you okay?”

“No, but I promise I have support and will be. Besides: I have John Hughes’ movies.”

*

Ned told MJ in their breakfast nook over eggs he had cooked for them both, “Okay, am I crazy? Tell me I’m crazy. PeanutButterPumpernickel’s initials could be P.B.P., right? He just went through a gruesome break-up and watched ‘80s romcoms to get over it. From our conversations, I know he’s into chemistry, lives in New York, has a cool job and someone could use him for his connections. Peter Benjamin Parker just broke up with Flash and watched John Hughes movies, studies chemistry, lives in Manhattan and is Tony Stark’s personal intern. Am I crazy?”

“Not crazy, not even paranoid. He could be,” said MJ. “Then again, it’s a city of over eight million people. And you said PeanutButterPumpernickel’s relationship is straight up abusive and horrifying. Was Peter’s relationship with Flash abusive? Didn’t you say PeanutButterPumpernickel is on the app because he doesn’t have any friends? I mean… I don’t know, you never really know what’s going on inside someone’s head but,” she shrugged. “Maybe ask him.”

“I can’t. The app won’t let me ask such a straightforward question.”

“Then ask a subjective question Peter has a clear answer to,” she suggested. “Also, I need you to go to two different protests this weekend. You’re most likely gonna get teargassed.”

“Sure, just let me know the address,” he agreed.

*

PeanutButterPumpernickel wasn’t Peter. He said he liked Star Trek more than Star Wars. He said he faked liking Star Wars for his best friend but that he was a Trekkie who was one of only eighty-two people on Earth who was fluent in Klingon.

Peter loved Star Wars. Peter suggested their Star Wars Halloween costumes and spent money on big Star Wars LEGO sets. He grew his hair out to be the perfect Anakin length for Comic Con and knew all the lightsaber fighting positions. Peter was a dyed-in-the-wool Star Wars fanboy.

Also, the details Ned had about PeanutButterPumpernickel’s relationship made his stomach churn. PeanutButterPumpernickel would casually mention giving up his hobbies for his ex or put himself down in ways that made Ned want to cry. He’d never been a fan of Flash, but Flash had made Peter happy while they were together.

One day they were talking about fears and stress and what had been weighing them down as the semester got harder and PeanutButterPumpernickel wrote, “The worst thing is that I can’t tell my friends. They never liked him, and I worked so hard to convince them it was a good relationship. I didn’t know I was lying, and if they know that, I’m a total idiot.”

Reading it made Ned break out into a cold sweat; now he didn’t believe that the man was Peter. But he thought of the poor guy all alone, telling his app friend instead of his real friends. He wanted to hug him, to tell him it was all okay. “I’m sure they wouldn’t think that.” He wrote, hoping it would spur the guy to reach out to his friends.

“Honestly, they’d be right to think it. My boss suggested I get on here, so no one used me to get a job again.”

“That’s horrifying; I promise to never use you as a connection.”

*

Two months into texting, Dave got a dog. He was allergic, so it became Ned and MJ’s dog. Ned called dibs on having the cute lab sleep in his bed. MJ wanted him, but Ned said, “Nuh-uh, the hot boy on the app wants to be friends. I get the dog in my bed until we rehome him; you get whatever girls you want.”

“You don’t have to be faithful to your app-not-boyfriend,” she reminded him.

And, yeah, he knew that, totally. But there was something about the guy Ned just liked, which made casual sex even less appealing than before.

*

It was two months, one week and one day into texting when PeanutButterPumpernickel said, “Will I ruin our friendship if I say I like you?”

“No,” Ned typed, chuckling at his phone. “I like you too.”

“No, I mean, I got on here just to make friends, but I really like you, and it feels wrong not to tell you that.”

“Oh,” Ned typed back, “I really like you too. Your texts are the highlight of my day. My roommates get pissed at how much time I spend smiling at my phone. I think it’s awesome if you like me as more than a friend. I was cool with friendship, but I have a crush on you.”

*

The guy sent him cute dumb chemistry pick-up lines sometimes. MJ got even more irritated.

*

They talked about their rough days. Between school and work, the guy was clearly going through hell, but the work stuff was confidential, and he couldn’t tell Ned the details, or maybe the app wouldn’t let him. It’s almost nice to hear that all his stress was from his life and not his asshole ex.

He asked if there was anything he could do to help, and the guy replied, “Well, there’s the obvious, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Ned grinned at his phone. It was the first time sexting had been brought up. He was on the Metro. But he could almost keep a straight face and sext. He could at least pull off looking like a dude just having a great text conversation. So, he told the man exactly what he would do with him if he could. And maybe it was a lot, but he’d been thinking about him for a long time. He talked the guy through getting off, even as he rode the subway, pretending to be normal. He knew he didn’t have long before it got too deep to text.

The guy said he would send a picture of his body, covered in spend, if he could. But the app wouldn’t let him send photos from his camera roll. That gave Ned pause, and he wrote, “I’m on the big side.”

He felt his worry melt when the guy texted back, “That’s excellent for cuddling.” Ned fucking loved cuddling. And he was great at it.

He realized the train was going to go into a deep spot. The app wouldn’t let him send the word “Metro,” and he chuckled as he wrote, “I can’t believe the AI decided to censor the type of public transport I’m on but lets us sext.” After hitting send, he saw a “read” message and then his phone flashed that he had no service.

*

They started sexting a lot, and it was great. It made Ned feel like long-distance could work. He was stressed out from studying for finals. The guy said that, if he was in New York, Ned could use his face as hard as he liked as long as he stroked his hair, and then they would go to Coney Island.

On the one hand, it sounded hot. On the other, it sounded transactional. The fact that face fucking had stipulations was worrying. Face fucking was great, fun, sexy. It felt amazing to have someone deep in your throat. You shouldn’t need an extra incentive. Sex shouldn’t ever need added bonuses. It made Ned worry about the sex the guy had had. It made him fear that the abuse hadn’t been just emotional. The guy waxed poetic about treating him nice, but it was hard to relax when Ned was thinking about bad sex and if the guy had been physically abused.

He assured PeanutButterPumpernickel he had come. It was easier that they couldn’t exchange photos and then typed, “I’ll be heading home in a week. Do you want to meet up, or do you want to keep this online?”

The guy typed back instantly, leaving Ned no time to worry, “I would love a real meet-up.”

“Like I said, I’m big.” Ned liked his body. He liked the way it felt. He liked what he could do with it. He liked the way he looked. He didn’t like the way some people reacted to it. And, unlike PeanutButterPumpernickel, he had healthy boundaries and self-preservation skills that let him avoid being hurt by people. Telling a potential date that he was big got their surprise out of the way.

The response was as fast as the one before. “Are you a woman or straight? If you’re a girl or straight, I’m going to be really disappointed.”

“Nope, a fat bi guy,” he typed.

“Cool, I’m a non-descript, muscular but compact white gay dude.”

He wondered what the guy would look like. It wouldn’t really surprise him if an underwear model walked in. The guy’s ex had fucked with his head so badly he could be gorgeous and have no idea. Ned wasn’t an “I can fix him” guy. He thought it was on people to fix themselves. But he honestly thought a couple of months of someone not being mean to this guy could turn his whole worldview around. And hell, he could learn some stuff about Star Trek for a guy as sweet as this one, a guy who made him laugh and smile.

*

He finished the slog of tests and went home for the summer, subletting his room to a friend of MJ’s. On the flight, he felt guilty. He realized he hadn’t told Peter he was coming. He’d been so busy thinking about PeanutButterPumpernickel that he’d forgotten to tell his best friend he was coming home. He decided to tell Peter after his date. Before it, he’d be too focused on his date to be a great friend.

His screen name was Haberdashing. Just like in high school, wearing a good hat still gave him confidence. He wore an Indiana Jones hat that was his profile icon to the restaurant. It was a little silly, but it framed his face well.

He’d been at the bar for less than two minutes — hadn’t even had a chance to order a drink — when PeanutButterPumpernickel walked in. He had told Ned he would wear a green jacket that accentuated his waist. But that’s not what made Ned know it was him. It was Peter. It was fucking Peter.

He watched as Peter’s face lit up. He felt frozen. His own face didn’t respond in kind. PeanutButterPumpernickel had been in a horribly abusive relationship. PeanutButterPumpernickel had self-esteem issues. PeanutButterPumpernickel had had to join an app because he had shitty friends who weren’t there for him.

Blood was rushing through his ears as Peter came to him with a smile. “Well, we just found the very slight issue with the algorithm.” Peter’s smile started to dim, probably seeing Ned’s reaction. “I mean, I guess we can treat this one of two ways. Option one, we treat it as a surprise welcome home dinner at a strangely romantic locale. Option two, we can laugh and say the algorithm knew us better than we did.” Ned couldn’t speak. “Please say something.”

“Flash is straight and cheated on you?” Ned said. It wasn’t what he meant to say. He didn’t know what he meant to say.

“That’s where you’re gonna go with this?”

“You told me you grew apart and you were doing okay. But you tell Haberdashing that your boyfriend was secretly straight and cheating on you for two years with women while using you to get a good job. And the way to described yourself? All this time, I’ve been reading your texts thinking, ‘Wow, this guy has no idea how abusive his relationship was. His friends should have gotten him out of this. His head is so turned around.’ And now, I’m the friend, and I’ve been completely blind.”

“It wasn’t-” Peter started, but Ned wouldn’t let him put himself down again, not out loud, not knowing that it was Peter saying those things about himself.

“He’s convinced you you’re not good-looking and you don’t have much to offer except being biddable and steppingstone to a job. The number of times you said you didn’t have many hobbies to Haberdashing when I asked and then said you gave up because he didn’t like them? That’s abuse. What parts of yourself did you give up?”

Peter spoke quietly as he said, “I mean, maybe I did read too many comics.”

“No, you didn’t. You read as many as made you happy. And talking about sublimating joy: Star Trek.” Peter didn’t meet his eye. “Seriously? Over fifteen years, Peter, over fifteen years, I have thought we were on the same page. You’re one of the eighty-two people on Earth certified as being fluent in Klingon!”

“When we were eight you said Star Trek was for babies and big kids liked Star Wars. And you were the coolest person I had ever met, and I didn’t want you to think I was a baby. And at what point should I have brought it up? I like Star Wars too, it’s just not as good as Star Trek to me.” Ned didn’t know what to say.

The bartender came over. Peter ordered drinks for them, but Ned wasn’t paying attention, was just studying Peter trying to reconcile him with PeanutButterPumpernickel. After seeing similarities, he had worked so hard to separate them in his head, and now he was confronted with the proof that they were the same person. “I kept telling myself PeanutButterPumpernickel probably misrepresented himself a bit, because people do on dating apps, even if they don’t mean to. But it turns out, you’ve been distorting yourself in real life and being honest in the app. How long was Flash abusing you?”

“I mean, by your definition of abuse?” asked Peter, looking confused. And fuck, wasn’t that the problem right there? He didn’t see it at all.

“Oh God, Pete, it’s everyone’s definition of abuse,” Ned wanted to stab something, preferably Flash.

Peter protested. “He never hit me. He never shouted. He just… made comments and digs and sometimes ghosted me on date nights and stopped cuddling as often… I don’t know. He was great. At first, he was great. It was gradual. Maybe nine months, ten? Less than a year.”

Ten months, ten months. They had been broken up for over four. That meant that Ned had been home. It had been going on last summer break and over Christmas, and he hadn’t noticed a fucking thing. “Jesus Christ, Peter. PeanutButterPumpernickel, Peter Benjamin Parker. Y’know, sometimes, I wondered if it was you. But I couldn’t find a way around the AI to ask. But then I thought it couldn’t be. I asked about Star Wars vs. Star Trek on purpose. And then all the fucked up details with your boyfriend came out, and I thought you were a guy who was just so close to you. It couldn’t be you because his relationship was so, so fucked up, and I would know if you were going through that. But, Peter, what did you think of me? I never put up any front. Did you ever think I was me?”

“I just thought,” Peter sighed, “I just thought you were perfect.” He looked like he was going to cry, and Ned didn’t want to make him cry; he just wanted to not have had this ever happen. He had never liked Flash, but he was supposed to be the dick Ned didn’t like dating his best friend, not Peter’s abuser. They weren’t supposed to be in this situation.

Peter seemed to be trying to salvage an unsavable conversation. Ned tuned back into his words as he said, “When you told me hats give you confidence, I did think, ‘Oh, just like Ned.’ But I never… Haberdashing had a dog; you never mentioned one. He lives in LA; you live in Pasadena.”

“We had the dog for two weeks. Pasadena is in LA; no one knows where Pasadena is.”

“The Jet Propulsion Lab and CalTech are in Pasadena,” said Peter. The bartender came back. Ned ignored the situation, and Peter said, “It’s a great hat, suits you. You look amazing.”

“No,” said Ned, overwhelmed, feeling like he might collapse or vomit. The whole situation was too much. “We’re not,” he closed his mouth and had to swallow back bile. “Peter, I’m sorry, I can’t. I need some space and to think. I’m sorry. I just can’t right now. I’m sorry.”

He left the bar. He couldn’t stay one second longer; he thought he was going to pass out. He walked a couple of blocks and turns away, and sat down on the curb. Pulling out his phone, he texted MJ, “I was so fucking wrong. It was Peter. The whole time. It was Peter.”

“Okay, so you have had sex with your two best friends,” she replied. “Are you texting from the bathroom?”

“I left the date,” he texted back. His phone started to ring, and he answered.

Before he could say anything, she said, “The guy you have been talking to for months, the guy who was in a relationship you call horrifyingly abusive, the guy you said got onto the app because he didn’t have friends he could talk to, is Peter. And you ditched him? You ditched the abused guy with no friends who was actually your best friend who was apparently abused? Am I correct?”

“I… it’s not that simple.”

“Okay, how was it more complicated?”

“I thought I was going to vomit.”

“Then you vomit and apologize and talk it through. Jesus, this is why men are the weaker sex.”

“MJ,” he said. Trying to explain it, he said, “He lied about Star Wars.”

“For fuck’s sake. Honestly, even if it weren’t Peter, that’s some guy who was on his first date after an abusive relationship. So, good job. This was an asshole move. Go fix this.”

“I,” he started.

“I don’t want excuses, I don’t want to hear about your tummy ache.” He heard a woman in the background. “I was having sex when you texted. I picked up my phone because I thought it was an emergency. You ruined two nights. Go fix this.” She hung up without saying goodbye.

*

He had only flown home that day. When he had landed, he went from JFK to Penn Station and stashed his bags in a locker for the night. If he had gone home to Queens, his mother and lola never would have let him leave for a date the same night. Instead, he’d showered at Seymour O’Reilly’s place. Seymour was still a friend and was in favor of Ned getting to his date looking dapper. But Ned hadn’t imposed and left his stuff at Seymour’s tiny studio apartment.

He headed back toward Penn to get his bags and thought as he walked. He had to call Peter to at least explain himself. Peter picked up and sounded exhausted as he asked if Ned was pocket-dialing him.

“No,” he said, “I called on purpose.”

“Oh, did you want something?”

“Peter,” he said.

Peter cut him off before he could say anything but his name, “Look, I’ve had a bad night, okay? Just a really terrible night. I kept telling myself Haberdashing couldn’t be as perfect as I thought and reminding myself to lower my expectations about sex because there’s a difference between fantasy and reality. And then you ditched me at the bar. I didn’t tell you he cheated on me with women via text or FaceTime because you are my best friend: you might have flown home, and you needed to be at school. I told Haberdashing because we talked about our shitty dating luck. But tonight was going to be amazing. I was going to meet this perfect guy. Prince Charming. And then it was you, and it made sense that he was so incredible. And then you picked my life apart in public and left me at the bar after calling me a liar and a victim of abuse. I’m gonna hang up now and eat my vat of mac and cheese and watch Deep Space Nine. Good night, Ned.”

Ned stared at his phone after Peter hung up on him. It wasn’t the first time Peter had referred to Haberdashing as “perfect” that night. But being called Prince Charming was… Ned didn’t have a romantic view of dating. He dated too much to have romantic notions anymore. And, even if he did, he had never thought PeanutButterPumpernickel was perfect. Ned thought he was sweet, kind, funny, interesting. He also thought he was neurotic, worryingly inexperienced and a defeatist. Learning that he and Peter viewed it so differently broke his heart.

When Ned signed up for You Know Who I Am, it was because he wanted to find someone who would treat him like he was special and worth their time. He hadn’t wanted a fling. He’d wanted a happy ending. Peter thought he was Prince Charming, and Ned had freaked out and left him in a bar.

There was a bodega on his left, and he stopped his walk to Penn Station to go inside and grab ingredients for chocolate chip banana pancakes because Peter loved chocolate chip banana pancakes. He was going to go to Peter, but he wasn’t sure how the night would end. He could at least make his best friend pancakes if all else failed.

With groceries in hand, he returned to the train station and got his two suitcases from the locker. On the street, he hailed a cab and gave the guy Peter’s address. Peter’s place was at the exact midpoint between Metro College and Stark Tower because Tony Stark had picked it personally. The doorman smiled at him, but the deskman wanted details as to who he was.

“I’m Peter Parker’s best friend, maybe I’m gonna be his boyfriend, but I hurt his feelings. So I am here to make him pancakes. He might not let me in unless I grovel at his door with pancake ingredients.”

The guy studied him, “I know Peter’s best friend’s name; he talks about his best friend. His best friend is on the cleared list.”

“I’m Ned Leeds,” said Ned. He pulled out his wallet. It actually had a picture of him and Peter laughing and drunk across from his driver’s license.

The guy nodded, “Just know that I will not hesitate to call the cops.”

“Totally fair,” agreed Ned.

He went to the elevator and prayed as it climbed up to two floors below the penthouse. Tony Stark probably would have gotten Peter the penthouse, but Peter wouldn’t have accepted it. On Peter’s floor, there were only four apartments. The floor above it probably only had two, but the ones beneath probably had eight. Peter’s place was huge. Ned had never spent much time there. It had always been a place for polite visits. Flash had always been there, and Ned had never felt entirely comfortable. He and Peter had hung out alone at his family’s or May’s place. This apartment wasn’t one he knew well, but Peter had lived here for almost two years.

He rang the bell and waited. Peter came. He looked wrecked. He had clearly been crying for a long time and was wearing his comfort jammies. They were Knight Rider, and they were worn out and stained. Ned wanted to punch himself for making Peter look like that.

Before he could say a word, Peter spoke, “Ned, please, I can’t take it. I fucked up by being honest on a dating app. Lesson learned. I get it. I’ll keep Star Trek to myself. And let’s face it, a guy with a sixth sense for threats not knowing his boyfriend was a con artist for two years is pathetic. I get it. But, please, I can’t take anymore. Haberdashing was a perfect man; can you not ruin that by being mean? I’m going to try and gaslight myself into thinking we never met up, and he’s still out there in the ether being perfect somewhere.”

Peter had had enough gaslighting for a lifetime, and Ned felt like crying hearing his words. He thought the only way out was through. The only way to fix it was to be honest. “PeanutButterPumpernickel wasn’t perfect. He was funny, kind, interesting, so smart, into great movies, really easy to talk to. He also had self-esteem issues that I knew I would have to work on; you could see those from space. But everyone has a few flaws. I’m not an ‘I can fix him’ guy. But if a dude only has one visible flaw after talking for four months, that’s fine. It made me angry that he was clearly struggling with things and not getting enough help. He talked about his boss helping him but not friends. Seeing you tonight and realizing I was the shitty friend was gruesome. Flash’s abu-” he stopped himself from finishing the word. Peter didn’t want to hear it. He corrected himself for Peter’s sake. “His behavior started long before the fall semester. I was home; I hung out with you. I went out to dinner with you guys. I saw you, and I didn’t notice. I didn’t know. I’ve been wondering how shitty PeanutButterPumpernickel’s friends are, and it’s me — I’m the shitty friend. Every time you’d be awesome, amazing and wonderful and then verbally throw yourself under the bus with the most batshit insane self-doubt that was so obviously untrue for everything else in your life to line up correctly, I would think, ‘His friends suck almost as much as his boyfriend. His boss is the only person who doesn’t suck.’ And now… sure, Mr. Stark is out here killing it, but me? I am failing. I left the bar because I was reeling.”

The words Peter said next were horrifying. Instead of agreeing that Ned sucked, he took responsibility for upsetting Ned as he said that MJ and Ned had told him not to date Flash. That they were so much more experienced and poised that he couldn’t bring himself to tell Ned the truth. “I didn’t want to be the idiot who lost his virginity at twenty-two to a bully turned creep and then have to tell you over the phone.”

He tried to assure Peter that he wasn’t an idiot, that none of it was his fault. He apologized for not being more present when he had never trusted Flash. He knew Peter was inexperienced and should have given him more guidance.

“The only thing I want you to say sorry for is ditching me tonight,” said Peter. “We could have had a friends’ dinner at least. If it was a disappointment when I walked in, we could have still had a friends’ dinner.”

Ned felt his heart break again and wondered how many times it could happen in one night. Peter still didn’t see how Ned saw the situation at all. “I wasn’t disappointed, Peter. You’re amazing. I wasn’t… I’m sorry I left. I am. You’re incredible. A person would have to be an idiot to be disappointed you’re you. I was upset that I didn’t know about Flash and Star Trek. How could someone be disappointed? Especially after you’d told me for ages that you were nothing to look at, and you walk in with that face and the physique of Spi-” he cut himself off. He had never been great at secrets, but he wasn’t going to talk about Spider-Man in the hallway. “Can I come in?”

Maybe it spoke to just how low Peter’s self-esteem was or how much he liked Ned, but he immediately let him in and only then noticed Ned’s bags. Ned explained his plan to make Peter pancakes. Peter loved pancakes, and Ned wanted to save their relationship, even if he had fucked up Haberdashing and PeanutButterPumpernickel’s chances.

“I figured, we can talk this out, or play videogames, or I can crash in the guestroom you always say you don’t use, or we could see how our sex in real life compares to what we’ve texted,” he said. “But, any way it works out, I am going to make you pancakes. And now that it’s you and not PeanutButterPumpernickel, I don’t have to be coy and not bring clothes for the morning. Before the date, I was planning on doing the walk of shame back to Penn Station, now I have my stuff. It was stashed in a locker at Penn Station.”

“You still want me?” he looked shocked and hopeful. Ned wanted to wrap him up in blankets and cuddle him until he believed he deserved to be desired.

“I never didn’t,” he said, stressing his words, trying to make Peter believe them. “I reacted in the bar because… I’ve been a terrible friend, and finding out was a shock to the system. You’re great. You’re Peter Parker. So handsome and fun and an actual fucking hero. There’s nothing bad about you. I’m sorry I left you there. I was just freaking out and angry at him and me and… I wasn’t angry at you. I’m not angry at you. But, please, no more bullshit, and no more liking things to please me. If you think something is bad, speak up.”

Peter protested that he did like Star Wars; he hadn’t been faking it. But, he said, Star Trek was better. Peter spoke with passion about nice space father figures and how some of it felt like the Twilight Zone but in space, and how if he lived in Deep Space Nine, it would be like living in a city but in space. His dad had died when he was so little, and Ben had died when they were twelve. Hearing about the space dads made Ned feel bad. What could Star Wars offer? Anakin? Obi-Wan? Bail Organa? Everyone was evil, brutally fallible or died after ten minutes. Seeing it through Peter’s eyes, that alone probably made it a hundred times better than Star Wars. PeanutButterPumpernickel had talked to Ned a lot about how it was about teamwork and morals and egalitarianism. Star Wars was just really antifascism.

Ned smiled at his enthusiasm and said, “It sounds awesome. You’re going to have to walk me through everything.”

Peter looked surprised and said, “Oh, Ned, you don’t have to-”

“Peter, you’re one of the eighty-two people on Earth who speaks fluent Klingon; I think you’re honor bound to teach idiots like me about Star Trek. I wrote it off as being for babies as a little kid, and I have never revisited it. I’m an idiot because I thought I had to pick between Star Wars and Star Trek. But I want to learn because you’re the coolest person I know, so I bet it’s awesome.”

Peter grinned, looking so happy. It took so little because he’d been neglected for so long. “Okay, we’ll start with the original. You have to forgive the effects and just enjoy the plots.”

“I watched some of the original by myself because PeanutButterPumpernickel likes it. It would be better to watch it with you because you’re you.”

“So do you wanna have a marathon or?” Peter’s words trailed off.

Ned was not going to pressure him, not after fucking up. But, he was going to be honest about what he wanted and let Peter make his own choices. “I mean, Peter, really I wanna make tonight up to you and do dirty things to you. But I was an ass at the bar, so it’s totally your call. Whatever you want.”

Peter asked for two minutes to wash his face, and Ned told him to take his time, trying to put into his words that there was no pressure. He went into the high-tech kitchen, where he put the few groceries he was carrying away. He saw six empty boxes of Kraft Mac and Cheese on the counter. Other than that, it was immaculate.

There was a noise behind him, and Ned turned and felt his mouth open. Peter was in tiny trunks that hugged his ass and a too-small shirt that showed off his belly button and clung to his pecks. If he flexed, the whole outfit would rip off him like Bruce Banner’s clothes when he was in a bad mood. The look made an impact. His face looked better, washed and less red. He had a small, self-conscious smile. It was apparent that Peter wasn’t sure if he was pulling off the look even though he was really, really pulling it off. “Hey,” he said quietly.

Almost at a loss for words, Ned said, “Damn.”

“Good damn?” one of Peter’s hands went to the hem of his shirt.

“You look incredible,” said Ned. He realized that Peter was holding a massive bowl.

Maybe he looked at the bowl too long because Peter explained, “I ate five quarts of noodles, but you’re here.” Before Ned could apologize, he said, “Don’t be sad. We’re fixing tonight.” Ned started to explain again how badly he felt, but Peter put out a hand as though they were meeting for the first time. “Hi, Haberdashing? I’m PeanutButterPumpernickel I’m trying to seduce you.”

Ned shook it and said, “It’s working.”

After that, it wasn’t hard. Ned was excellent in bed. He deserved his reputation. He deserved all the praise. But, this mattered more. Because Peter was his best friend. Because he had been in a bad relationship and needed to be shown a good one. Because Ned wanted this to last more than a week. Because he wanted to enjoy it as much as he wanted Peter to.

He couldn't get over it as they were kissing and stripping each other. PeanutButterPumpernickel was Peter. Looking at Peter’s body was what had confirmed he was bi when he was fifteen. He had felt so guilty when he had masturbated, thinking about his best friend in high school. But Peter’s body was unreal back when they’d been figuring out their hormones. Now that they were adults, he was beautiful. Ned ran his hands over Peter’s abs. He didn’t have a six-pack; he had eight visible fucking muscles. Ned liked all sorts of bodies in all shapes and sizes, but it was hard to deny that he was the pinnacle of male beauty standards. Touching his abs was just plain fun.

He remembered a discussion from high school about masturbation, and he asked, “Can’t you come, like, nine times in a night?”

Peter nodded but said, “Yeah, but don’t worry, if you ignore it, it goes down.”

Ned wanted to scream, to find Flash and punch him in the face. What the fuck? What the fuck? Only a straight man lying through his teeth could have taught Peter that that would be the correct reaction to the body that kept giving. Ned loved sex that went on for hours. He thought about all the sexting they had done where he had been writing “and then, and then, and then” it had seemed unrealistic. No one could have as many orgasms as he had fictionally been giving PeanutButterPumpernickel. But Peter could. And fucking Flash had acted like that was a bad thing? Well, yeah, a straight guy faking gay wouldn’t want to have a man’s erection to play with all night, but Ned had hit the jackpot.

“It’s absolutely criminal that your first relationship was with that bastard. This should be a dream come true for your partner,” he said, and then he started jerking Peter off. He figured an orgasm could take the desperate edge off Peter’s movements and get him to relax a bit. But Peter reacted to a simple hand job like it was magic.

For the millionth time since he had started talking to PeanutButterPumpernickel, Ned wondered what his sexual experience was like. Were he and Flash a lights-off-once-a-week-under-the-covers-Saturday-night-after-takeout couple? It seemed really probable, and that was just horrifying.

Looking at Peter’s face, he said, “Fuck, dude, you’re perfect.” Peter came hard, and Ned held him close as his body worked through the aftershocks. They made out lazily as Peter came down.

So much of their sexting had been about massages. Ned was good at massages, and PeanutButterPumpernickel had mentioned being touch starved. He could keep Peter coming; the fantasies could play out in real life. So he asked Peter to roll over and started to massage a million knots out of his back. Peter carried tension all over his body.

Peter tried to rub back against him. But Ned knew he wouldn’t last long being so close to Peter if he had friction against his groin while Peter was moaning and sighing and smelling so good. He gently pushed Peter’s hips onto the bed, and Peter protested, saying he wanted Ned to feel good.

“I do feel good. I’ve always been a service top.” He realized that Peter might not know what that meant. PeanutButterPumpernickel had said he didn’t have any gay friends to speak to, didn’t go clubbing much. It was possible that Peter, poor, inexperienced Peter, had no idea what a service top was. So he said, “I like taking care of you. It feels great. Are you happy?”

“Yeah,” Peter slurred his words, and Ned smiled as he just kept working on his muscles and kissing his beautiful back.

“Then don’t worry. I’m great, I’m touching you.”

After a while, he got Peter’s lube as Peter was rambling about how wonderful it was that Ned was Haberdashing, and Ned was smiling as he said, “Now I’m going to finger you and eat you out and make you come without touching you, okay?” Peter didn’t use his words; he nodded and made a cute little moaning noise.

Ned kissed him deeply on the mouth, letting himself enjoy something as simple as a kiss as he got a pillow for Peter’s hips. There were over a dozen pillows on the bed. He wondered if Peter had added them since kicking Flash out of his life. Then he started to massage Peter’s ass while praising his body. When he began to lick Peter open, Peter made an odd noise and froze, and Ned wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad sign, so he stopped immediately, “Okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s just, I’ve never,” explained Peter. Ned couldn’t see his face, but he heard his embarrassment. Peter had nothing to be embarrassed about. Flash deserved to be run over by an eighteen-wheeler. An ass that cute and pert should be eaten frequently regardless of the gender of the person it was attached to. It wasn’t on Peter to feel embarrassed about his lack of experience.

Softly, not wanting to upset Peter, Ned replied, “Your body is criminally under used. I’ve got you. Tell me if you don’t like it. Okay?” Peter agreed, and Ned fell to the enjoyable task of opening Peter with his tongue. It didn’t last long. He was fucking him open with his mouth and had only added one finger when Peter came and apologized for it being too fast. But first times were always quick. Ned had all the time in the world to teach Peter how to savor getting eaten out, how to use Ned’s face like a seat.

Peter wanted to keep going, so Ned fucked him open with his fingers. He'd learned from sexting that PeanutButterPumpernickel had a praise kink, or maybe was just so starved for affection that it got him off. He kept up a litany of words about how wonderful Peter was being as he fingered him and milked his prostate. Checking in, he asked, “How do you feel?”

He expected an answer of “good” or “great” or even “floaty.” But when Peter said, “Fucking wanted,” he felt like crying. He was going to fucking keep it together. Maybe it was a tragic answer, but it was an honest answer.

He forced a smile into his voice as he said, “Good, so good for me.” He knew the words would trigger Peter, and he came again. He offered to stop, to be done.

The reactions Peter was having Ned convinced that Peter’s only experience was lights-off-once-a-week-under-the-covers. What they were doing was pretty innocent, but it was also emotional. Ned was all over him and praising him. It was a lot. Sure, Peter could physically come nine times a night, but there was the emotional side to consider. And yeah, Ned hadn’t come yet, but no one had ever actually died of blue balls. He could wait.

Peter shook his head immediately as he pulled Ned in to cuddle with him, “No, want more. I’m not done. Everything feels amazing. Just need a minute, kiss me.” They kissed lazily, and Ned ran his hands down Peter’s body, pressing different pressure points that were supposed to make people calm. He wasn’t sure it would work on someone with heightened senses. But Peter’s breathing did even out a little, and when he pulled back, he seemed clearer. “Okay, I, I am so out of my depth here, Ned. Tell me what to do. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never. Sex isn’t like this for me. I don’t know what we’re doing. I like it. But I don’t know what we’re doing.”

Ned had already known it but hearing it was different. He just nodded. Peter was trusting him a lot. He wasn’t going to fuck it up. He thought of all the people who trusted him for a good time because of his reputation. Peter was thousands of miles away. He hadn’t heard of Ned’s slutty accomplishments. Peter trusted Ned because he was his friend, because he thought Haberdashing was perfect. Ned knew he was far from perfect, but he was going to make sure that this experience was.

“I’ve got you, Peter, I’m here with you,” he promised. “I’m going to blow you and then I’m going to fuck you if that sounds good.” Peter nodded, and they kissed as though sealing a deal. “You can fuck my face if you want,” Ned said with a smile.

Peter didn’t smile; he paled. Ned suddenly remembered that text from ages ago where Peter had said he could use his face as hard as he liked as long as he stroked his hair. He remembered thinking it sounded oddly transactional and stiff, and now Peter looked repulsed instead of turned on.

“No, I don’t want to hurt you. I never want to hurt you,” Peter sounded panicky.

Ned protested gently, trying to calm him, “No, no, Peter, face fucking doesn’t hurt.”

Peter disagreed, saying, “No, it’s all hair pulling, your throat hurts, and it can bleed, you can’t breathe, and there’s probably tears and a fight.”

What. The. Actual. Fuck. A bleeding throat? Tears and a fight? And Peter was still saying the relationship wasn’t abusive? He wanted to give the sex act back to Peter. He didn’t want it to be off-limits. Peter shouldn’t be afraid of sex. He promised that wasn’t what it was like with a good partner and moved down his body, kissing a trail as he went and licking away the spend he found.

“So, here’s what we’re gonna do,” he said, “I’m gonna start sucking you and when I’m ready and comfortable I’m gonna put your hand on my head and you’re gonna be in charge and you’ll fuck my face.” He figured that what would show Peter he was comfortable while giving Peter control.

But Peter immediately said, “No, I don’t want to hurt you, Ned, that doesn’t sound sexy.”

Ned nuzzled his stomach, licking his belly button and taking Peter’s ever-hard dick in his hand. “It’s okay, promise, you won’t. I’ll tap your hip three times if I want to stop.” He tapped his fingers as an example, “See? Nothing scary. Sex isn’t scary. I can show you. Do you want to try this?” He wanted to give Peter an out, not force him, but he didn’t want it to be a big scary thing.

“If you want to stop you you’re going to tap my hip three times. What should we do if I want to stop?”

Ned smiled at him and the silly question. “Your mouth isn’t going to be full. Just say you want to stop. We’ll immediately stop. We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I trust you,” Peter said, nodding. “It’s really good?”

“It’s so good,” he kissed and mouthed Peter’s dick. And then said, “We’ll both feel good.”

Peter nodded, “Okay.”

“Relax, Peter, relax, it’s just a blowjob.”

“But it’s you. I don’t want to fuck this up,” Peter explained, but he sounded more relaxed.

“You can’t. Okay? I mean, you still don’t lay eggs, right? That hasn’t changed?” Peter laughed, and it was a genuine laugh. “See? It’s gonna be fine because it’s me and you.” He’d been lazily stroking Peter’s erection as they spoke, and he said, “You have such a nice body. Thank you for sharing it with me.” He meant it honestly, even though he also meant it to help ease Peter’s nerves.

He started to blow Peter, and he had to work to pay attention to Peter’s face and reactions and not just lose himself in the pleasure of dick-sucking. Peter was holding himself tightly, but it was polite stillness, not displeasure, as he was also praising Ned, touching him, watching him and breathing hard. Peter was touching Ned’s lips where they were closed around his dick. Peter was into it, relaxing, and Ned’s throat felt good, loose, his breathing was good.

He reached to put Peter’s hand on his head, and Peter said, “Please, Ned, you’re perfect; let this be perfect. I don’t want it rough or mean. I want whatever you want to do. I don’t want… you can do whatever you want. You’re perfect. Please, please.”

Okay, change of plan. Ned was wrong. Tonight was not the night. He pulled back and smiled to show nothing was wrong and said, “Why don’t you play with my hair, stop holding yourself so tightly — you can move, it’s okay — keep telling me what you like and warn me when you’re close so I can enjoy it? Better?”

“Perfect, yes, perfect,” Peter started to gently stroke his hair. “Thank you, I couldn’t sorry, you’re too pretty and perfect and soft. Everything feels so good and nice and, fuck, Ned, Jesus.”

Peter relaxed more as Ned sucked him, moved his hips more and cried out louder. Ned wanted to sink into the act, but he just thought about that damn sext. Sexting was fantasy, and fantasy wasn’t reality. But. But. Haberdashing had been tense, and PeanutButterPumpernickel had suggested Haberdashing used his face hard as a stress release. However, when the tables were turned, he freaked out. If Ned were on his back, would Peter willingly submit to a sex act he hated? Would he be letting Ned fuck his face out of some weird sense of duty? Or that he deserved to be hurt but that “perfect” Ned didn’t? It worried him. But it was a conversation for when they were dressed.

Peter came and thanked him and then started apologizing for not fucking his face almost in the same breath, but Ned just assured him it was okay. Peter said he didn’t want to be mean to Ned. And Ned had never had anyone meanly fuck his face, not once.

“I think we have different definitions of face fucking and it’s a clothes-on conversation,” said Ned. “That was so hot, Peter, don’t worry — it was great, you were great. So sexy, so good for me.”

At the praise, Peter lit up like a carnival game and said, “I want more. You feel so good. This is better than fantasies. I want you to fuck me, or I can blow you, whatever you like. I just want more.”

Ned was happy that he wanted to go on. But he didn’t want a blow job. He had some doubt as to how consensual giving blow jobs really was for Peter. Yeah, Peter was willing to do it; but it obviously wasn’t an act he enjoyed. And Ned didn’t have an erection that just kept going. So, he said, “I really want to be in you, you feel so good. If you want that.”

Enthusiastically, Peter said, “Do we? Can we? I’ve never. I can’t catch or transmit anything. Flash and I always used condoms. And it seemed odd as I thought we were exclusive but it’s polite and best practice. I mean, he was cheating on me. He was probably scared of giving me something and me finding out. But it’s you and me. Do we need condoms? I just. I’ve heard it’s better.”

He was like a kid in a candy store, ticking things off a wish list. Ned got it; if he’d been in a horror show of a relationship for two years, he’d be up for a sex bucket list. As it was, it would be a first for him too. He took PrEP and wrapped it up. He had way too many partners not to. He got tested frequently and was always careful. Now, he said, “Yeah, I’ve heard that too. I’ve never either.” He assured Peter he wanted to try it, and Peter pulled him in to make out with him. Ned couldn’t remember the last time sex had involved this much kissing. It was nice, sweet. It was something he really wanted to get used to.

He started to finger Peter again, wanting to make sure he was loose and open so he could slide in and fuck him easily. He played his fingers over Peter’s prostate because orgasms were fun and borderline bottomless for Peter, and there was no better way to get someone relaxed. Peter was fucking himself on four of Ned’s fingers, and looked like his orgasm took him by surprise, but he didn’t stop bouncing on Ned’s hand, didn’t stop when he came. Ned lubed himself up and moved to replace his fingers with his dick. Peter sighed happily and didn’t stop moving, a sure sign Ned had stretched him well.

His body was so hot and tight around Ned, and he’d been on edge for an hour, so he had to breathe for a moment to not come right there, especially as Peter bounced against him. The angle didn’t give Peter much purchase, but even the slight motion was overwhelming, especially coupled with his whining and praise.

“I’ve never, face to face. This is nice. I like seeing you.”

“You were fucking wasted in that relationship,” Ned caressed Peter’s face with the hand that wasn’t covered in lube. He was kneeling with Peter’s ass in his lap while Peter was still on his back. “Who the fuck wouldn’t want to watch your face when they fuck you? So hot, Peter. So gorgeous. Anyone would be lucky to be me, in this position.”

“You’re a sex god, or an incubus. You’re so good at this,” Peter reached up to play with Ned’s nipples. Another wave of pleasure washed over Ned. “You’re so good at all this. And you look so good doing it. I feel so good and full. Never been this full. I feel you in the back of my throat.”

He had heard similar words before. They had always felt good. They had never felt this good. Still, he laughed and said, “Come here, let’s put that flexibility to good use.” He was gentle but still treated Peter like a doll as he lifted his ankles and draped them over his shoulders. He didn’t think Peter would be much help getting into the position as Peter’s world seemed to have narrowed mostly to bouncing. “If you put some weight on you forearms and hands, you can rock with me. If you want to be a pillow princess, that’s okay too.”

Peter protested that he wanted to be an active participant and followed Ned’s instructions like a student aiming for an A+. It was sweet because he seemed to genuinely want to learn to have better sex, not simply want to please Ned. They found the perfect angle, and Ned found out that Peter was loud and didn’t shut up when getting fucked, which was great because usually, he was the rambler. It was nice to reverse roles. Peter came and clenched around Ned. It almost pushed him over the edge, but Ned had a lot of practice and had learned to go for a while. Ned moved to pull out, but Peter linked his ankles behind Ned’s back and kept fucking himself, saying, “More, good, please, more.”

“A fucking gift to men everywhere,” said Ned and kept fucking into his lovely tight hole. He came hard. And Peter groaned; clearly, it had been hard if he could feel it. Peter let him pull out, but Ned didn’t leave him hanging and started beating him off, promising he would get hard again. He just needed a moment, unlike Peter.

Peter offered him a blow job again, but the idea left Ned cold. Instead, he suggested Peter fuck him. Peter, of course, had never topped. And all Ned could say was, “You were criminally wasted, just fucking appalling, really. You’re into the idea? Not doing it to please me? It’s okay if you only like bottoming.”

“I’ve always liked the idea he just didn’t… it’s not just to please you. I want to. You’re hot, it would be hot. I want to if you want to.”

“I’m a hedonist; I like everything with everyone,” Ned said with a smile. “I want everything you want to give me.” Peter came, and they kept making out, and Ned’s dick was waking up, but he said, “if I don’t have a glass of water, I might pass out.”

That was a little white lie. He was okay. But Peter looked a little glazed. He could use a minute. And his veins were visible like an action star. It was supposed to be sexy, but it was never a good sign.

Peter laughed and said, “Glasses in the bathroom. The tap is filtered.”

The apartment was so fucking fancy. Ned’s legs were a little wobbly, but he got out of bed and got two glasses of water. He brought them back to bed as they discussed how fancy the apartment was. He handed one glass off and took a sip from the other, then he slipped into Peter’s lap, straddling and facing him. While he liked his size, he was being honest when he said, “I’m normally a little self-conscious about my weight when I’m in someone’s lap, but.”

“I’ve lifted busses. You’re as light as a feather, and you feel so good against me,” Peter said, drained his glass and put it on the bedside table. He started to rock up against Ned. He really was insatiable. “You look so good from this angle. You’re so perfect.” Ned leaned down to kiss him. “I’m so happy it’s you, Ned.”

After finishing his own glass, Ned leaned down to kiss him and held eye contact as he said, “You’re wonderful, Peter.”

“Everything feels good,” Peter whined, moving against him. “What do you want?”

“I want you in me.”

“Teach me?” asked Peter.

“Jesus, that’s hot.” Ned said with a small laugh as he reached for the lube, “Stretching is fun. Feels so good inside someone’s hot hole. You want to make sure that the person is loose and into it before you slide in.”

“You,” Peter mumbled. He was sweaty and dazed.

“What?” asked Ned wanting to be as attentive as possible.

“Not someone or a person: you,” said Peter.

Ned leaned down and kissed him. It was sweet that Peter wanted to connect the sex education to exclusively them. But Ned wanted him to carry the lessons with him into the future no matter what happened between them. He wanted Peter to have happy, sexy, safe, good sex that he and whoever he was with enjoyed.

“Make sure I’m loose and into it,” he instructed. “Lots of lube and stretching are the two keys to making sure anal sex is great. You just take your time and enjoy it. And watch me to see how I’m feeling.”

“You feel amazing,” said Peter fervently.

“No, how I’m feeling, not how I’m feeling against you,” Ned chuckled and kissed him slowly.

“I’m scared of hurting you,” said Peter, and he did sound anxious, so Ned stroked his side with the hand that wasn’t guiding Peter’s.

“You won’t,” Ned promised softly as he kissed him. “I’ll teach you.”

Ned guided Peter through stretching him, and was shaking in his lap. It had been a while since he bottomed. With his reputation, most people wanted him to top. Peter’s fingers felt wonderful as they opened and closed and fucked into him. They made out languidly, and Ned let himself feel everything.

Peter added more lube and a third finger, and Ned smiled against his forehead, “You’re a fucking natural.”

Peter smiled and buried his face in Ned’s neck. “So happy it was you in that bar, so happy it was you this whole time. God, you feel so good, Ned. You feel beautiful. You look beautiful. Perfect.”

“So good,” Ned moaned. Then he forced himself to move, “Hands and knees.”

“But, it was so good to see you,” Peter protested.

Ned smiled. He agreed, but doggie style was a classic for a reason. It was easy for a top, especially one who didn’t know what he was doing, “Trust me. Trust me. Take me on my hands and knees first. Later, soon, promise.” Ned kissed him and slid off his lap onto his hands and knees, moving fluidly to be sexy. It didn’t matter; Peter was probably too far gone to appreciate how sexy Ned was being. But he upped the ante by softly begging, “Please.” And, as Peter touched him, Ned moaned, “So good. Fuck me with your fingers, please, just, please.” Peter stroked over his prostate by dumb luck, and it felt great. Still remembering to be at least a little educational, he choked out, “God, that’s my prostate.” And Peter, sweet Peter, did it again, this time on purpose. “Fuck, Peter, now, please. More lube and now.” Given the circumstances, it was as clear and instructional as he could pull off.

Peter got the message and slicked up before sliding in slowly and stilling for a moment. “Let me just.”

Peter stayed still, stroking his body. Ned hoped that it meant Flash at least hadn’t fucked him when he was under-prepped. Peter felt amazing in him, and it had been a while since he’d bottomed. He wanted to keep feeling this. Peter was holding their hips still and kissing his back, whispering praise and thanks.

Feeling good and loose, Ned started to rock back against him. “So good, Peter, so nice. Fuck, please. Want this.”

Peter started to move with him, praising him the whole time, but it was all too gentle. Ned wasn’t looking for pain or punishment, but this was so gentle it hardly counted. He wanted to feel it. And he didn’t want Peter to be afraid of sex, “Peter, hold my hips and fuck me; I’m not fragile. I don’t break.” Peter did as told, and Ned moaned. Playing a hunch, he said, “Good boy,” which worked like a charm and spurred him on. “Fuck, so good. Touch me, please, touch me.”

Ned came hard and fast once Peter gave him a hand job. Peter came quickly after him, saying his name and cuddling him even as he pulled out. Peter laid on his back and ran a hand through Ned’s hair as they snuggled together, catching their breath.

“You’re incredible,” said Peter. Ned smiled; it had been over too quickly, far from the top of his game. But it was round two, and it was Peter. And all of this was Peter’s first brush with pleasant sex. He lifted his head from where it was resting on Peter’s chest and leaned up to kiss him before settling against him. “We can clean up in a bit. I just need a minute.”

Ned stroked his cheek and said, “You’re amazing, Peter, don’t ever doubt that. Such a good boy.” Peter whimpered, and Ned felt a smug wave come over him, “Yeah, thought so.”

“That’s playing dirty,” Peter said weakly.

Laughing, Ned promised, “I’ll use my new found power for good.”

*

Ned woke up and looked at Peter, sleeping open-mouthed, snoring softly. Peter wasn’t a pretty sleeper. Ned smiled, enjoying the view. They had never bothered with covers. He marveled again that Peter didn’t have a six-pack; he had an eight-pack. Ned touched each muscle in turn and then quietly got out of bed.

He got his toiletries from his bag in the hall and went to the bathroom, where he washed his face, brushed his teeth, moisturized and combed his hair. Before falling asleep, he had only given himself the most precursory wash the night before. He planned on sharing a shower with Peter. But he scrubbed off more now just to be more comfortable, noticing patches of dried come that had gotten stiff and scratchy.

He pulled on clean boxers. Peter had starfished out and was snoring louder. Ned smiled at him. He reached under the bed and pulled out Peter’s Spidey suit. He pulled on the mask as he exited the room, went to the kitchen, and said, “Hey, Karen.”

“Ned,” she said coolly.

“We made up,” he said.

“Hmm,” she replied, clearly not believing him.

“I came here and we talked and I spent the night. And now I am making him pancakes.”

“Chocolate chip banana?” she asked.

“Naturally,” he replied. “I don’t know how to work the sound system. Can you help me?”

There was a long pause. She was thinking, running through scenarios. Finally, she said, “If I find out you’re lying about being friends again, I will hack CalTech and delete your transcript.”

“Totally fair,” he agreed. She started playing Kesha through the speakers in the kitchen, where he put together the batter for the pancakes.

On his phone, he opened a Klingon dictionary and looked up how to say good morning. There was only one greeting. It was “What do you want?” Klingons apparently weren’t the warmest people. He also downloaded the Klingon version of Duolingo.

He found a lid for a plate to keep the pancakes warm, made the first couple and covered them. He was making the fourth as Peter came in, and he greeted him by saying, “Nuq'neH.”

Peter lit up, “Wow, Klingon, I’m impressed, par'Mach'kai.”

Ned shook his head. “I haven’t gotten that far yet. I just thought, maybe there could be eighty-three fluent Klingon speakers. But I just started.”

“Just a term of endearment,” Peter kissed his cheek. He was wearing those tiny shorts from last night. He looked amazing. “Smells so good.” He turned on the coffee pot and looked Ned up and down with a hungry look. Ned couldn’t help but half preen under the appreciative scrutiny.

The front door opened, and the voice of Tony Stark called, “Okay, I have doughnuts and sympathy and my genuine apologies because you’re right: the app should make sure you aren’t sexting you’re BFF.” He strode into the kitchen before they could reply. “Ted,” he greeted coolly.

The man looked more pissed than when Ned had hacked the suit at fifteen. But, this time, Ned felt like at least he had fucked Peter’s brains out to say sorry instead of helping him use the suit without supervision.

“We made up,” said Peter before Tony could kick off.

“So you guys are friends again?” asked Tony looking between them.

“I don’t wear underwear this short and tight around friends,” said Peter.

“I’m leaving,” said Tony turning away.

“You still need to fix the app!” Peter called to his back, “And leave the doughnuts.”

“No, one of us didn’t get laid last night,” The man called back without pausing.

The door closed, and Peter sighed, “I bet they were really expensive doughnuts.”

“Don’t worry. I am making you breakfast.” Ned took the current pancake from the pan and poured another.

“Smells so good,” agreed Peter. “But we could have had afternoon snack doughnuts for during sex breaks.”

“Bodegas have doughnuts and lots deliver,” Ned reminded him.

“Yeah, but those were fancy ones. After breakfast, will you please come back to bed? Last night was amazing. And I feel so good this morning. Nothing hurts like it usually does the morning after.”

That felt like a punch to the gut. Ned shook his head, “Listen, because this is important, you shouldn’t hurt in the morning. I mean, sometimes, after a really good night, you might limp a little. But you should never hurt and someone with your healing powers? You should just feel good.”

Peter scrunched his nose up and spoke in a soft whine as he said, “Ned.” He took a deep breath. “I want to believe we’re going to last. I want to think this is the start of something real, and lasting and solid. And I like the sex lessons. Love them, actually. But the relationship education… don’t talk like you’re preparing me for someone else. Please let me believe that we’re going somewhere.”

Ned nodded and leaned in to kiss him, worshipping his mouth. Pulling back, he flipped the pancake and said, “I want us to be a love story for the ages. I want to introduce you to friends in Pasadena, show you off and tell them I accidentally dated my oldest, best friend on You Know Who I Am. But if I get hit by a bus, I need to know you won’t settle for another shithead. Sex shouldn’t hurt: not ever. Expect sex not to be painful. Expect to wake up feeling good, maybe still feeling a little bent, but never hurting.” He kissed Peter again. “Of course, I will come back to bed after breakfast. My plans for this week were to try not to let my parents find out I was home and split my time between PeanutButterPumpernickel and Peter Parker. So, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to share me with anyone. I would love to be all yours.”

“Sex, Star Trek, cooking together?” asked Peter.

Ned nodded, “All of that. I miss you, Peter, I don’t ever want you to feel like you need an app to be less lonely. You should definitely rejoin the club Flash told you to quit.” Thinking about it, he asked, “What club were you in?” he slid the finished pancake out and poured another.

“That Magic the Gathering group from the comic store. I’m twenty-four, maybe he was right-”

“Nope, you are Peter Parker, you are the coolest person I know. Don’t listen to his BS. You are awesome. There were plenty of people who were older than us in that group. You had fun. You were not too old and you had tons of friends in the group. Guys like Flash, doing what Flash was doing, don’t like it when their partners have big social groups. Friends notice the shit he was doing and encourage you to leave. The more friends you have, the more likely someone who knows you will see him cheating. You’re more likely to meet a guy who is nice, and you’ll dump his ass. You’re not dependent on him for a social life or a fun night. Rejoin the Magic group, have fun. Use You Know Who I Am to supplement it but have people in real life.” He flipped the cake. “Asshats don’t like it when their boyfriends have support because it makes cheating harder, and it makes bad behavior more obvious. But if you are with someone nice, they want you to have friends. So, you aren’t lonely, so you have twice the friends to share, so you get to be your own person.”

“I was also in a photography club for a while but,” he shrugged.

“You take beautiful pictures,” said Ned.

“It’s a pretentious hobby for pretentious people,” Peter replied.

“Bullshit,” Ned added the pancake to the finished pile and poured another. “You take gorgeous shots no one else could ever capture from the rooftops. And then you get on the ground, and you always get photos of people looking beautiful when they aren’t posing.”

“There was a guy in the club. Flash thought he was flirting with me… I don’t think he was. I think he was just really nice. But, it made Flash angry and… it's not like I was never gonna sell my photos. And I already worked such long hours.”

“Rejoin the photography club,” said Ned emphatically. “I am not threatened by people flirting with you. When you are in a healthy relationship, your boyfriend isn’t threatened. You’re not a cheater. People can flirt with you all day. You’ll be kissing me not them.”

“I don’t even think he was flirting. He was just really nice.”

“Rejoin the club. I hope he’s still a member. I have one more year in Pasadena. You need friends who are physically here. We’re gonna be better about texting as Peter and Ned instead of PeanutButterPumpernickel and Haberdashing. But that doesn’t mean your friend's problem is solved. I didn't text you when I thought you might be asleep or in class. I texted him. And six times out of ten, he texted right back. So from now on, we don't worry about time zones.”

Peter nodded and said, “It was a lot to balance with school and Spider-Man and my work with Mr. Stark. But, Mr. Stark always helped me figure out my schedule to fit in Magic and photo club because he said balance was important, and then… he just accepted that I was nesting with Flash and too busy dating for those things.”

“If I get hit by a bus, don’t date any man who tells you that you shouldn’t enjoy your hobbies. Always have a life outside your relationship: it’s healthy,” said Ned and Peter nodded as Ned put the pancake on the pile. “I am cooking all the batter. It’s a lot of pancakes but-”

“They’re my favorites and you’re a good boyfriend.” Peter froze after saying.

“Hell yeah I am. I’m fantastic at dating.” Ned smiled. “You’re pretty good at it too.”

“I haven’t done anything,” protested Peter.

“You fucked me so well and held me close all night.” Ned smiled. “I appreciated it. I get chilly.”

“Weird, you’re so hot.” Ned laughed. Peter got mugs, “Carmel syrup, milk and sugar? Whipped cream?”

“Yes please, be a sexy barista.”

Peter made them fancy coffee drinks as Ned made two final pancakes. As Peter took a bite of his first pancake, he growled. “Holy fuck. I missed your cooking, dude.”

“I will cook for you all the time,” he promised.

“I have the best boyfriend,” said Peter happily.

Ned took a sip of his coffee and moaned, “Peter, you are a maestro. So what’s our plan for the day?”

“Pancakes, sex, cuddling with Star Trek and popcorn? It’s a show you kinda need to watch quietly and pay attention to the first time. If you don’t like it we can turn it off.”

“Dude, I tried to show a guy Episode Four and he thought it was Netflix and chill. I had to explain to him that I was not having sex with him during Star Wars when he had never seen it. He needed to watch it and soak it in.”

Peter nodded, “Exactly, it’s for your own good. You can’t appreciate it if you don’t get to focus on it. We can pause it if you have questions.”

“Thank you. I am excited to watch it with you. Getting to experience things with experts is always great.”

Peter played with his fork and looked at his meal as he said, “There is a Trekkie convention at the end of the summer. It’s fun. People dress up, spend way too much money on memorabilia. Cast members come. They show sneak peeks from new stuff. There are photo ops. It’s like a smaller Comic-Con. If you’re into it, we could go together.”

“Totally,” agreed Ned. Scared of the answer, he asked, “When did you last go to one?”

“There is one in New York twice a year. One is big; one is more mellow. Flash made fun of it but, Ben and me used to go. We did awesome costumes and I took all of my language tests there. No amount of teasing from Flash was gonna get me to give them up. They remind me of Ben and growing up and… I could give up comics, photography and Magic the Gathering. But Star Trek conventions are sacred, so he dropped it.”

“Lovers are supposed to be bonuses, not the sole source of your happiness. Pick up comics, Magic the Gathering and photography. I won’t stop playing my MMO, building custom LEGO sets or going out dancing. I’ll just stop kissing people and going home with anyone who asks. Our interests are what make us interesting.”

“How often do you go home with people?” asked Peter. He didn’t sound judgmental. He sounded insecure.

“I am slutty; I like sex. I go home with a lot of people. I take PReP. I’m only going home with you from now on. Don’t worry. Once I talk to my doctor, I am going off PReP.”

“I don’t worry about you cheating. You never would. You just have so much more experience than me. I feel foolish. I must seem like an idiot in bed.”

“Peter,” Ned had his fork halfway to his mouth and put it down. “In bed, we’re naked, touching, kissing. I am way too busy to think you’re an idiot. And yeah, I know that you aren’t as experienced. But that’s okay. We’ll learn together as a couple. I have never had sex without a condom before. We’ll experience lots of new things together.”

“I don’t want you to be bored in bed with me,” said Peter.

“Be serious, how could I ever be bored with a man who can keep going as long as you can? I could never be bored. You’re beautiful, and my best friend and it’s great. I could never be bored with you. You are Peter Parker. Only an idiot could find you boring. I am not an idiot.”

“You’re so hot,” said Peter.

“Eat breakfast, and I will prove how hot you are,” said Ned, returning to his meal with a smile.

Peter smiled and said, “I want to take a thousand pictures of you and cover my Instagram in you. But then your lola will see.”

“You’re friends with Lola on Instagram?” asked Ned.

“We go out to dinner twice a month.”

“Seriously?” asked Ned with a laugh.

“Lola likes Nigerian, Turkish and Greek food but doesn’t speak English. We go out to restaurants, I do the ordering and she asks me all about school and my love life. Jesus told her that the LGBTQIA+ community are good people. She prayed about it and knows that God doesn’t make mistakes and you, MJ and I are exactly the way God wanted us to be. And she is so lucky she got you as her grandson because she doesn’t like your sisters. But I was sworn to secrecy about that. Now I am swearing you to secrecy.”

“Holy shit, you’re getting all the dirt from my eighty-year-old grandma.”

“She tells me crazy shit in packed restaurants because we’re speaking Tagalog so no one understands us in Little Italy when she’s hankering for good lasagna.”

“Thank you for taking care of her.”

“We have fun,” Peter said with a smile. “I never had a grandma so I have always liked sharing Lola.”

Ned smiled, “Peter, thank you, seriously, for putting up with a mad old Catholic woman.”

“We really do have fun. And she’s nice Catholic: Jesus wants me to be gay. She loves drag shows. And she brings me home cooked dinners to the restaurants. It’s all packed in plastic containers in cooler bags. Hanging out with her makes me miss you less. She never liked Flash. She loves Haberdashing; she is going to be over the moon about this. But she knows my address and if I post a picture of you on Instagram, she will turn up.”

“Lola goes to drag shows?”

“Sure, especially if there is a two for one special on drinks,” Peter nodded.

“You drink with Lola?” asked Ned, even more shocked.

“Only if there is a two for one special,” said Peter with a smile. “Lola doesn’t like me spending too much on our nights out but she likes a sex on the beach as long as it’s half price.”

“The fuck?” said Ned.

Peter laughed, “May has been working all hours. I don’t have many friends… Lola wants to hang out so we do when I’m not busy with class or Spider-Man. We have fun. We like dancing. She likes that one of her grandkids can spend time with her as an adult, even if it isn’t one that’s blood.”

“That’s adorable,” said Ned. Peter started to lick the syrup off his fork. Ned put the last pancake on his plate. “Here, have the last one.”

“I’ve already eaten over two thirds of them,” he protested.

“You eat eight thousand calories a day; I made the right amount of batter for our breakfast. Have the last one.”

Peter smiled and said, “It’s nice to be able to eat this much in front of the person I had sex with.”

“You didn’t tell Flash about your metabolism?”

Peter sighed heavily. “I… he’s a Spidey superfan. I didn’t want him to like me for Spider-Man instead of me. And then. I thought… He wouldn’t have cheated on Spider-Man,” he mumbled the last sentence, and Ned reached over the table to stroke his cheat. “It sounds so stupid. I know it does.”

“He was your first boyfriend,” Ned replied. “It’s totally understandable that you would want him to love you for you and for you to think about healthier ways for it to end. That’s not stupid at all, Peter. Y’know, there are great people you can talk to about this. I mean, you should totally talk to me, I want to listen. But there are professional people who help after break ups.”

“A professional,” Peter repeated. “Because you think I was abused.”

Ned took a breath, “I think the way he treated you wasn’t okay. I think the fact that you don’t realize just how not okay it was is… not great. But I think you aren’t likely to listen to me because I’m your best friend and you think I’m Prince Charming. I’m not Prince Charming. I’m just me. I think talking to a professional would help you see your relationship with him clearly and help you see me more clearly. I don’t want to fall off the pedestal, Peter. I want stairs to walk off it and be with you. A lot of my friends have talked to professionals and it really helped them after shitty partners. Please? For me? To get me off the pedestal and make sure we can be the love story for the ages?”

“Your friends… did they like it?”

“They liked the results,” said Ned. “I think talking can be hard, but they feel good afterward.”

“Okay,” said Peter. “Do you… do you know how to find the person?”

“Sure, and Karen can help.” He got out his phone, pulled up RAINN’s resource page, got a list of therapists, and said, “Do you want to talk to a woman or a man?”

“A gay man, if possible,” said Peter. “I feel like… they might think I’m less stupid.”

“You aren’t stupid. No one will think you’re stupid,” Ned said. “They don’t list their sexuality but I’m sure Karen can look at their social media. Can you have her run these names?”

Peter pulled his mask half on and said Hello to her. Then he paused and said, “We’re good. He came last night. We… well, we’re dating now… It’s good… I might, I know I always said that I shouldn’t install hardware for you in the apartment but if Ned’s gonna be spending time here maybe it would be nice if you were here.” Ned smiled at him and, subsequently, the mask and Karen. “Ned wants you to research some therapists. It might be good for me to talk about my feelings about Flash. Or something. But it has to be a doctor I like. And I’d prefer to talk to a gay guy because I think they would be less judgy.”

Ned read off the names. Karen got her results within moments. She was always chatty and seemed like a person, but she was a supercomputer. Peter had an appointment to meet with a guy the next day.

Peter was subdued and was poking at the last quarter of his pancake, and Ned said, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just… it seemed normal. I didn’t think there was anything wrong and now I’m just thinking. You keep saying it was and you want me to talk to someone and I just wonder if maybe everyone knew.”

“You think May, Lola and Tony Stark wouldn’t have kicked his ass if they had known? You think your comic book friends wouldn’t have thrown their replica baterangs at him and dragged you to the Magic club? Karen would have snitched to Tony. People love you. You dated a manipulative dick, but people love you and would have been on your team. So let’s get you back into the Magic club and photography group. Let’s get the gang together. And when you talk to someone, get some perspective, you will have a clearer view of what happened and won’t be in that situation again. You’ll know when to cut your losses. Hell, maybe you’ll realize that I’m not your dream guy and you’ll say, ‘Sorry, Ned, you are my BFF, and always will be but we are not a couple.’ And we’ll still be best friends.”

“No, you’re a prince charming,” Peter replied.

“Well, you’re a dream boat. So handsome and sweet and kind and funny. I’m glad an app saw what we didn’t. Now, finish breakfast, Star Trek isn’t going to watch itself.”