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There were days when Peter really did feel like the Amazing Spider-Man—unbeatable, powerful, alive.
And then there were days like this one, where all he felt was old .
Peter groaned and clutched at his left arm as he hobbled home. There was a gash on his thigh, courtesy of Doc Ock, and a few broken ribs he could thank the Rhino for. The Lizard had also taken a chomp at Peter’s arm, and he was fairly sure his concussion was Kraven’s doing.
Needless to say, he was achy and tired and wondered why he bothered in the first place. He wasn’t looking forward to seeing Johnny’s face when he returned, but he was eager to get to his bed. When he reached the window to his bedroom, he hissed as his fingers splayed out against the glass—broken, then. He pushed it open anyway.
He didn’t so much as climb through as fall through, but before he could hit the floor, warm arms encircled him.
The jarring stop made him shout out in pain, and Johnny dropped him on reflex. When Peter’s injuries were jostled once more, he yelped, then curled up on the floor in a pitiful mound.
“Baby! Baby.” Johnny knelt beside him, gently urging Peter to roll over. “You look terrible, and—you’re bleeding. This doesn’t look good. I’ll be right back.”
Peter assumed Johnny left and came back shortly after, but the seconds were blurring together. Peter blinked, and then he was on the bed, lying on his side as Johnny applied a numbing agent to Peter’s leg. Peter twisted his head and saw his boyfriend threading a needle. Stitches.
“Who was it?” Johnny asked quietly as he got to work.
Peter thought he tasted blood. Thankfully, he was reasonably sure that he had all of his teeth. “Um… the leg was, uh. The leg was Ock.”
Johnny winced in sympathy. “The Six?”
“And special guests.”
Johnny moved on to the teeth marks on Peter’s arm; he pulled a tooth out of the flesh and wrinkled his nose. “ Gross .”
“Cool,” Peter said absently, watching as Johnny set it gingerly on the bedside table. “Think Tony would let me analyze that in the lab?”
Johnny shot him a disgusted look and began wrapping Peter’s ribs. “Sure. Sounds like a great father-son bonding activity.”
“Your sarcasm,” Peter groaned, “is noted, but not appreciated.”
That, at last, drew a reluctant chuckle out of Johnny. Peter smiled as much as he could through his swollen face, and Johnny traced warm fingers down the bruises there. Peter leaned into the tender touch, closing his eyes.
“Are you gonna do this the rest of your life?” Johnny asked suddenly. “Should I… should I expect you to be sixty and coming home looking like a squashed blueberry?”
The words were said in jest, but there was something else there that Peter, even through the head trauma, detected. He kept his eyes closed, but he answered as best he could. “I… I’m always going to be Spider-Man.” He paused. “I’m not sure I’ll make it to sixty.”
He opened his eyes. Instead of getting upset or angry, like Peter feared he would, Johnny nodded. “Okay,” he said simply.
Peter’s eyes widened—as much as they could through the swelling. “...Okay?”
Johnny handed him an ice pack for his head, then perched himself on the edge of the bed as he worked on getting Peter out of the torn and bloody suit. “Honestly, I’m not surprised. For our business, what we have now is a pretty quiet life. If that’s what it’s going to be… I don’t mind that idea.” Johnny gently brushed some of the hair out of Peter’s face. “I don’t like seeing you hurt, you idiot,” he clarified sternly, “but I guess that’s why I have your back, right?”
“Yeah…” Peter was a little stupefied, honestly, so he propped himself on his good arm, ignoring Johnny’s instruction to lie back down, and asked his boyfriend, “You aren’t upset? That this is… that it’s…” He huffed, frustrated that he couldn’t seem to grasp the words he needed. “That this is my life?”
There was silence in the bedroom for a long minute. Eventually, Johnny reached out to grab Peter’s broken-fingered hand and start on splinting it. “I fell in love with you, Peter, after I knew you were Spider-Man,” he said steadily. He wasn’t looking at Peter, but his conviction filled his voice. “I’ve watched you throw yourself into fights since we were teenagers. I’ve always known how important the job is to you. What’s changed is that now I see you after the fights—I see the toll it takes.” Blue eyes bore into his brown, then, and Peter’s breath stalled in his chest. “I know that Spider-Man is a part of you. I’ve always known that. Am I supposed to tell you to put a shelf life on it now that we’re together? That’s not the kind of partner I want to be.”
“But…” Peter licked his lips, holding on to Johnny’s every word. “But do you want a partner who—who runs out on dates, who comes home in pieces, who tracks blood into the apartment—”
“Who can lift up the couch with one hand,” Johnny interrupted, “when he vacuums instead of just skipping the underneath? Who dusts in those awkward nooks and crannies no one else can reach? Who runs to get art supplies at three in the morning because my nephew called from my sister’s phone to admit he has a project that he hasn’t started due in the morning? Not to mention,” Johnny added with a sly grin, “one who looks absolutely amazing in red and blue spandex?”
“Well…” Peter smothered a smile. “When you put it like that …”
Johnny dropped a kiss to his forehead. “I knew what I was getting into. And I love every part of you.”
“I love you too,” Peter told him; it suddenly seemed crucial that Johnny knew that. “So, so much.”
“Yeah.” Johnny stared at him for a moment, looking like he was debating with himself. Peter waited patiently for him to come to a decision, and finally, he did. “Do you remember when Franklin and I had that awful virus and… and I mentioned that he told me…” Johnny swallowed, steeled himself. “He told me to marry you?”
Peter’s heart was in his throat. “Yes,” he breathed. “I remember.”
Johnny grinned a little. “I think he might have been on to something.”
A laugh made its way through Peter’s damaged throat. He nodded, still a little breathless, and said, “I think so, too.” He brought his splintered hand up to Johnny’s face; hardly the most romantic, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances. “I’m in this for the long haul,” he promised Johnny.
And it was true. In all the times he’d envisioned his future, Johnny always played a part in his daydreams, even before they’d begun dating. There just couldn’t be a future without Johnny. Not for Peter. He’d never, ever once pictured an end to their relationship.
“I want to marry you someday,” Johnny whispered to him. “I can’t believe I’m saying this while you look like an extra from The Walking Dead , but here we are.”
“Someday,” Peter echoed. He really, really loved the sound of that.
Johnny kissed his bandaged knuckles and began to strip so he could join Peter in bed. “Get some rest. We can talk more in the morning—let your healing factor do its work.”
Peter obeyed, shutting his eyes and letting his head fall onto the pillow. “I might need help covering the bruises in the morning,” he admitted.
Johnny snuggled in close, letting Peter wiggle around until he was curled around Johnny in a way that didn’t aggravate his injuries too badly. “Don’t worry,” Johnny yawned. “I stocked up on foundation after the last time the Six mistook you for a punching bag.”
“Charming.”