Old Magick in Modern Times (A Peter Parker Fanfic) CH.5
A/N: This one hurt to write a bit. So I'm just gonna apologize in advance. Things are gonna get a bit worse before they get better. This is pretty much only worse.
So here, have some angst. <3
Warnings: Minor violence, blood (lots of blood), injuries, hurt feelings, and a whole bucket of angst and confusion.
Maybe looking back Peter could tell you why he felt such sudden despair and abandonment when he realized Silver wasn’t home, but in the moment, it was all too consuming to feel anything else.
It was late, he was sore, and while the bleeding had stopped the places where pieces of glass were still embedded were beginning to sting. He knew he couldn’t make it back to the compound in his condition. Sinking to the floor he did his best not to let it all overwhelm him, but the tears came anyway.
It’s not like there was anyone to see him in his moment of weakness.
Ok, that thought didn’t help.
Peter wasn’t sure how much time had passed, before the pain became too much to continue to ignore, but eventually he started pulling out glass pieces. Well, trying to anyway.
Silver’s place was dark and he’d never found the switch for the string lights in the hallway, he didn’t have the energy to try and move either, so blurry eyed and stifling a sob, he tried to pry them out with his fingers.
He got two of the bigger pieces out before he heard the front door unlock and open. He tried to be as quiet as possible, he assumed it would be Silver coming in, but there wasn’t a way for him to know for sure. And with his injuries, he wasn’t sure how well he’d be able to fend off someone else.
“Spider? By the gods, doll! What happened to you?!” Silver sounded worried, he looked worried as he rushed to kneel in front of Peter, taking stock of the bloodied glass on the floor and the wounds littering his extremities.
He was going to explain what happened, he really was, but with his enhanced senses it wasn’t even a minute before the smell of alcohol and sex overpowered the worry in Silver’s rapid fire questions and examination. Peter felt his heart sink.
He had turned the lights on, his jacket or bag or something had been dropped in a pile behind him. The button up he was wearing was wrinkled and wasn’t buttoned all the way, Peter could see at least two hickeys and part of Silver’s tattoo when he moved.
He wasn’t wearing shoes when stood up, disappeared into his room and then came back with a first aid kit and bottles Peter now knew to be pain reliever and clotting potions.
Silver didn’t have to tell him to drink when he handed him the tiny bottle of bluish liquid. It would take at least 10 minutes for the pain reliever to start working, but Silver didn’t waste any time in pulling out a pair of tweezers and pulling out shards, so really, it wasn’t Peter’s fault when another sob forced its way from his chest.
“I know, doll, I know. I’m so sorry.” Silver whispered, again and again, each time he found and removed a new shard. The pain was starting to end, but Peter wasn’t sure if it was because of the vial or the aching numbness that was beginning to sink into his chest.
Silver hadn’t been home, because he had been at someone else's place, drinking and probably fucking. Peter tried not to think about it, but the more he tried not to think about it, the worse the scenarios in his head became.
Why did it even bother him?
It’s not like he and Silver had any kind of relationship other than some-kind of professional. He had made it clear he wasn’t interested in getting to know Peter. Well, kinda. He didn’t really start conversations, but he always engaged in them when Peter did. Asking questions, usually in the form of a raised or furrowed eyebrow, but still.
And he’d ask, the next time he saw Peter, he’d ask about some of the mundane and ridiculous shit he told him, following up on things that even Peter himself forgot he had mentioned.
But it still hurt, no matter how irrational it was, Peter still found himself hurt at the idea of Silver with someone else.
“Why weren’t you here?” It was a whisper of a question that Peter didn’t mean to let slip out, but apparently tonight was the night his mouth decided to betray him.
Silver’s hands stilled over his right arm, his whole body tensing, before he cleared his throat and forced himself to relax enough to continue treating Peter.
He shook his head, messing up his already messy hair, more strands coming loose from his braid and falling around his face.
“I was- I uh went out.”
A pause, pregnant and looming, and then more words poured from Silver than Peter had ever heard, that didn’t concern what he was doing to heal him or a short question to get him talking about last week's problems.
“I am so sorry. I should have been here. I got caught with a project for my da and I wasn’t paying attention to the days. I thought I was timing it right, but obviously I didn’t. I don’t even know how long you’ve been here. Fuck, Spider. It’s been eight days since you were last here. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Eight days? It had only been eight days since he had last been here? Peter was sure it had been longer.
“Yeah. You always come back every 6 to 10 days. Never more, never less.” Silver looked up from his work and smiled, though it was a bit watery, and Peter noticed his eyes were glassy, like he had been trying not to cry. From relief or guilt Peter wasn’t totally sure.
“We need to get you out this dumb suit, yeah?” Peter sniffed and nodded, not sure what to think that Silver had been keeping such an eye on when he came and went. He had said it so matter-of-factly Peter wanted to assume he did that with everyone that came to him for help, but the way he had looked at him after.
He wasn’t sure what to think now.
Getting Spider out of the suit and into a shower wasn’t the hardest thing Cy had done recently, the aforementioned project for his father pretty well topped most things in recent memory, except leaving the bathroom. Leaving the bathroom after disinfecting the wounds as best he could to give Spider the space he needed to completely clean off was the hardest part.
He had been covered in cuts and blood. Most of them were pretty small and would probably heal within the next few hours, if not less, but there were a few larger ones Cy was worried could get seriously infected.
How had he not realized it had been eight days? Because he had locked himself in his lab for 4 days, instead 2 like he had thought. That’s how. Because he was too preoccupied with finishing perfectly that he didn’t bother to think of anything else.
Because it was easier to drown in some SHIELD project til it was done, go to a bar and pick up a random guy, then it was to take a look at the fact that he had begun to rearrange his schedule around when he thought Spider-man would show up.
Because honestly, who really wants to take a long hard look at themselves when they realize they had started moving their schedule around a guy they met not even six months ago.
They weren’t friends.
They weren’t in any kind of relationship.
They were barely acquaintances. Ish.
It didn’t mean anything that Cy now knew exactly how to make eggs and bacon in the morning to what Spider liked the best.
It didn't mean anything that he had gotten new paint for the guest room after Spider had said it was weird that it was all grey. Especially compared to the rest of his place.
It also didn’t mean anything that Cy had begun to ask one of his brothers and SIL for help in learning how to sew up clothes, more specifically how to patch latex and other things someone who worked for or adjacent to SHIELD might wear.
No, none of that meant anything.
And it especially didn’t mean anything that the guy he went home with earlier was a brunette with brown eyes that was shorter than him. He didn’t have big doe eyes with flecks of gold and green and even though he was shorter than Cy, he still wasn’t the right height, so it obviously meant nothing.
Fuck. Cy was so screwed.
And he probably needed a cold shower.
Peter stayed in the shower long after he was done and should have gotten out. Replaying the interaction in his head until the hot water finally started to run out and his hands and feet were pruny.
His body ached everywhere and the thought of having to dry off and put clothes on sounded much worse than it probably was. Toweling off went very slowly and he found himself grateful for the dark maroon towels Silver kept in the guest bathroom.
He didn’t want to see the blood stains that were bound to be forming.
A knock on the bedroom door startled Peter out of his thoughts and the towel out of his hands.
“Fuck.” He whispered.
Another knock and then Silver spoke. “Hey Spider, before you get fully dressed I’d like to patch up a few of those larger cuts.” A cleared throat. “If that’s- if that’s alright with you.”
Peter heard a muffled groan and what might’ve been a smack through the door. He couldn’t help the small smile that formed.
Putting on a pair of boxers and dark green joggers he found in the dresser, he slowly made his way out to the living room. Silver was standing in front of the window to the fire escape, it was still open. Guess he forgot to close it when he got in.
His back was to Peter, arms crossed in front of his chest, faded black sweatpants hung low on his hips, and wet hair clung to his back and shoulders.
“Sorry if I took all the hot water.” Peter spoke, his voice was rough and scratchy.
Silver spun on his heel, looking startled and wide eyed at him. Peter still wasn’t sure how he managed to startle the guy all the time. He knew he was quiet, but he wasn’t usually trying to be sneaky when he was here. Although it’s not like he minded that much, he actually found it kind of cute.
Shaking his head, Silver gestured for him to sit on the couch. The stain from his first visit here was still plastered to half of one of the cushions, no longer a vibrant red, but a dark and muddy, faded brown.
It fit the aesthetics of the place, Peter thought. With the dark purple bookcases stuffed with books and binders, and loose-leaf papers, and the bright blue, but definitely faded and chipped, walls. The dining room table that was scuffed and the chairs that were slightly uneven and wobbled, even when Peter had put folded-up napkins under one leg to balance it out.
Taking a seat beside him, Silver began putting the healing accelerate and numbing cream on, before wrapping up the larger cuts on his forearms and the bullet wound on his bicep.
“I prefer cold showers anyway, so it’s nice that someone can use the hot water.”
Peter didn’t say anything, but hummed in acknowledgment. He didn’t have the energy to talk right now, he could deal with the silence, especially since he was finally getting used to Silvers cold fingers dancing on his skin.
“I have two brothers.” A pause, a little awkward and stilted, Peter wasn’t sure if he was supposed to reply or if Silver had even meant to say that out loud.
“One is older than me by four years and the other is older than me by 3 minutes. He never lets me forget that.” A quiet chuckle as he sets Peter’s left arm in his lap and gently picks up his right. Starting the process over again.
“We were SHIELD kids. Our dad is an agent, well Special Agent now, but when I was 12 he had just gotten the promotion to Special Agent and we had to move from Washington to Texas. I don’t remember what for, but…” Trailing off, Silver shrugs, a small smile painting his lips.
Another pause, this one less awkward, and then. “It’s hot as balls in Texas. Don’t ever go there unless you want your eyes to melt out of your skull.”
A startled laugh was pulled out of Peter, it almost felt good, almost like normal, but the bruises on his ribs made it hard not to flinch in pain with the action. And the memory of earlier, of being alone and in pain only to be greeted with disheveled and sex drunk Silver, didn’t do much to help Peter’s overall mood.
The rest of the night was quiet, it didn’t take long for Silver to finish patching him up and Peter was all too grateful to be able to flop into bed with a mostly numb body, knowing when he woke up most of the cuts would be gone.
He made sure to leave before Silver woke up.
Later that day, in the privacy of his room, he could think about what had happened without twitching a little bit.
A few days later, after a weird and vague talk with Nat, Peter could finally admit, at least to himself, that he might actually like white haired healer. And that maybe he had been a bit jealous at the idea of him with someone else.
Peter never did get the courage to ask about who Silver had been with, instead he did his best to take care of his own injuries instead of taking up more of Silver’s time.
He made it a month before he was shot again, this time the bullet stayed lodged in shoulder and he haphazardly swung his way to Silver’s place. It was not a graceful landing onto the fire escape.