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mediocre-daydreams · 2 years

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mitosis // peter parker

pairing: peter parker x stark! reader

summary: you and peter have a bio project on asexual reproduction; specifically, mitosis. the avengers believe there is a different type of reproduction going on, and hint hint, it is not asexual.

warnings: friends to lovers, mutual pining, tony stark is a FOOL, the avengers are horrible meddling matchmakers, swearing, mentions of sex but no smut, poor bruce just wants to help

w/c: 10.4k (i'm so sorry i got carried away)

“this might be a bad time to ask, but what… is… that?” you slapped your hand next to a diagram of a cell splitting itself into pieces, like some fucked up version of a minecraft slime that existed in your body—no, was your body.

peter sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes, but you could tell he wasn’t actually upset. his lips were pursed and the corners of his mouth curved downwards, which was a telltale sign that he was holding back a laugh.

“you do realize that this project is due in a week, right?” peter, who had been lying on his stomach while studying, pushed himself off the ground to meet your eye level. he scooched a bit closer to you, pushing the textbook out from between you so he could get close enough for his knees to touch yours.

“duh, i totally knew that. it’s on my calendar and everything.” you and peter both looked up at the captain-america-holding-puppies themed calendar on your wall; peter raised his eyebrows, amused, when he saw that the entire month was blank.

“i mean my digital calendar. who even uses physical calendars anymore? that’s so stupid. i only bought it to support the puppies. not because steve looks really g- not because i wanted to use it, or anything. besides, it’s good decor.”

peter didn’t try to hold back his laughter this time. he pressed his hands to your cheeks, shaking your head. “you’re so dumb, you know that right?” you grinned, except not really, because your face was being squished.

“no! your fashe is shtupid!” you swatted at his hands, scrambling for the discarded textbook and holding it up in front of your face to shield yourself from his attack.

peter chuckled breathlessly, guiding the textbook down from between the two of your faces until it brushed against both of your legs, which hadn’t stopped touching. peter caught his breath and his playful expression from a minute ago softened into a look of adoration. you smiled faintly at him, eyes darting between his. sure, the two of you were friends. best friends, maybe—but you had always thought that was unfair to MJ and ned—but you weren’t the type of friends to hold each other’s faces (even if it was just a joke) or sit so close to each other (even if it was just for the convenience of sharing a textbook) or get lost in each others’ eyes (even if that’s what you were doing right now).

you heard your father’s sing-song voice as his muffled footsteps (he was probably wearing his new iron man slippers) approached your door. “oh stark spawnnn… my favorite child…”

the trance that you and peter were in broke immediately. you smiled sheepishly and pushed yourself off the ground to go see why your father was calling you. you only took a few steps before the door flew open to reveal an energetic tony stark.

“how many red bulls have you had today?” you sighed, having given up on trying to reduce your father’s energy drink dependency long ago.

“uh, five.” he checked his watch. “it’s only 11 though!” he shrugged his shoulders. “anyways, i need you to- oh hi spiderboy.” tony looked past your shoulder to see a pink-faced peter sitting awkwardly next to an open biology textbook and two backpacks. peter raised his hand in greeting, not wanting to push it by using words considering he was already in the daughter of his mentor’s room.

“you needed?” you prompted, stealing a glance at peter at the same time your father did. you were antsy, wanting to get back to doing whatever it was that you had been doing with peter as soon as possible.

“right. you know you’re my favorite kid, right? remember how i took you to mexico last month and let you buy as much street food as you wanted? you’re a really good, smart, cool kid, you know? i-”

“alright, spit it out. and don’t even get me started on mexico—that was because you had a mission. so,” you sighed, unable to stay mad at him after seeing the guilt creeping on your dad’s face. if tony stark was showing any emotion other than narcissism, something must’ve been seriously wrong. “what did you do?”

“okay, so i might have gotten into an argument with cap…” you looked at him suspiciously. that was a pretty normal occurrence. “…aaand i may have called him ageriatriccosplayerinspandex…. uh… wholookslikehecouldbeinasexyfirefightercalendar… but that he was sopurethathewouldprobablycombustjustlookingatthecostumes.”

“dad. i- i have no clue what you just said and i don’t really want to, considering the only words i could make out were ‘geriatric, spandex, sexy firefighter, combust’ and that doesn’t sound very promising.” tony looked down at the floor in shame.

“so you came to me to help you to help steve to forgive you? aren’t you like, the adult here?” tony pushed his glasses up his nose, eyebrows furrowed.

“i, uh, can’t. because he’s locked himself into his room and the last time i saw him he was probably as red as my suit. and you know he’ll listen to you over me!” tony whined, pulling at his hair, distressed.

“okay, okay. yeah, i’ve got it. now can you go and eat something? all that redbull’s gonna kill you if you don’t have carbs to soak it up. or at least i think that’s how nutrition works. i don’t know. when you and steve finish filming your firefighter porno, you can ask him about it. after all, he’s a supersoldier.” you grabbed your father’s arms to turn him around, then dug your palms into his back to push him out the door. “goodbye favorite father!”

“i’m your only father!” you heard tony yell back at you as your door slammed shut.

“jeez, i’m so sorry about that peter.” you threw yourself onto your bed with a couple of bounces from the impact. peter laughed, coming up to meet you on the plush comforter. he grabbed a pillow and laid it under your head, which you raised gratefully so that he could slide it underneath you. as he fluffed the pillow, peter’s hand slipped behind your neck to pull your hair out from beneath you and ran his fingers through it absentmindedly as he splayed it out like sunbeams around your head. you hummed contentedly.

“so, steve’s a sexy firefighter, huh?” peter mused, his calloused fingers brushing gently at your hairline, pulling stray strands and baby hairs out of your eyes.

“i could see that,” you grinned. “he’s got the body to be a calendar model, for sure. i mean, he’s already got a puppy calendar. i wouldn’t be opposed to 12 different pictures of shirtless steve in my room.”

peter was silent for a moment before he cleared his throat. “your dad said something about steve listening to you?” he wasn’t jealous or anything, just curious about your relationship with him. i mean, steve was pretty nice. and chivalrous. and adored. and really, really, really ripped-

“oh yeah, he did say that. steve and i are kind of similar, you know? we’re just surrounded by tech geniuses and STEM minds,” you raised your hand to tap his nose, and missed, poking him in the lips, “like you. and it gets a little isolating sometimes, not being able to do that kind of stuff. steve’s a really talented artist, you know? but he doesn’t really show anyone his work because he feels like it’s not as important as what everyone else does. and, well, it’s not like i inherited my dad’s genes or anything.” your eyes were fixed on the ceiling. “sometimes i wonder if being tony stark’s kid is worth it, you know? maybe if i had been adopted by a normal family, i wouldn’t feel so inadequate all the time, surrounded by fucking superheros…” you trailed off, losing yourself to your own thoughts.

“do you really feel like that?” peter’s voice was laced with concern. he crawled over to you with as much grace as one could have when crawling around on a bed—which is to say, none—so he could look you in the eyes. you smiled at the bed creaking and sinking under his shifting weight, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

“is that really what you think of yourself?” peter had propped himself up with his forearm stretched your body, his other arm pressed into the space beside your head so that his face was floating just a foot above yours. you turned your head to the side, not wanting to get into all of your deepest darkest insecurities when you had originally planned on working on your biology project. you were not emotionally prepared for this.

“uh, i should probably check on steve. my dad is probably gonna keep interrupting us to beg if i don’t play peacemaker, like, right now. and interruptions would be really bad for, uh, our productivity.

‘cuz we have to work on that project about miosum. miolsis. mitosis.” you slipped out from beneath peter’s body, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you lingered by the door.

“yeah, um, yeah. you’re right.” peter shook his head rapidly, trying to gain control of his thoughts and slow his racing heart. “yeah. and you were right, it’s mitosis. MJ and ned are doing miosis.”

he could tell that those words made no sense to you; that blank stare did not escape his watchful eye. “go see steve. i’m sure that… he needs you. he probably needs someone close right now, or something.” peter laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. stupid peter! stupid, stupid peter! why are you encouraging her to leave?

“yeah, that’s a good idea,” your hand was on the doorknob, but you made no indication of wanting to leave. “yeah, he’s really important to me, and i wouldn’t want to see him upset. so i should probably be a good-” you coughed, “friend. a good friend to him.” why did you do that? friend? why friend? friends plural? what about friends? why about friends? what does that even mean? with one last glance over your shoulder, you ripped open the door and slammed it behind you, fast-paced steps echoing in the hallway as you practically sprinted away from your room, and from peter.

as soon as he heard your footsteps recede, peter flopped onto your bed much as you had done just a few minutes ago. he groaned, flinging his arm over his forehead with dejection. why was he always screwing things up? he had been so close to you, twice, and both times he had managed to break the tension before it could go anywhere. well, the first time was tony’s fault. but the second time was all on him—he had upset you to the point where you literally ran away from him into the arms of the person he was jealous of.

the door flew open again. what now? why is there no privacy around here?

“i thought i heard something!” sam and bucky stood in the doorway, the former leaning against the frame with a smirk and the latter behind him with his arm crossed and his permanent grimace affixed to his face.

“h-hey! uh, what are you guys doing here?” peter stuttered, pushing himself off the bed and standing with his arms pressed flat against his sides, eyes darting around the room as if he had just hidden a corpse under the bed.

“i could ask the same,” sam probed, easily seeing through peter’s poor attempt at nonchalance. “stark’s kid, huh?” sam nodded, looking peter up and down appraisingly. he elbowed bucky, who had not been paying attention whatsoever, and the two of them whispered to each other furiously before turning back to peter, who was extremely confused and a bit uncomfortable.

“uh, yeah. we were just-” peter’s arms peeled off from their aggressively straightened position as he tried to conjure up an explanation as to why he was in your room, in your bed, without making it seem like he was a perv digging around your personal belongings.

“so, where’s your other half? hiding under the bed? in the closet, maybe? no need to be embarrassed kids, we all saw it coming.”

“what are you even talking about- there’s nobody- what?” peter gulped, watching as bucky shoved sam to the side, striding menacingly towards him. oh shit. were they going to kill him because they thought he was a stalker, or something? wait, what if bucky thinks i’m trying to steal steve’s girl? oh god, this is it. this is the end. bucky’s metal hand wrapped around peter’s tense shoulder. peter shut his eyes, preparing for the worst. instead, bucky’s flesh hand ruffled peter’s hair; and to peter’s shock, the grumpy supersoldier’s face was bearing the faintest hint of amusement.

“you two stay safe, alright?” bucky extended his hands, much to peter’s further confusion. a box of extra large condoms with a stick-on bow landed in bucky’s hands. he promptly handed the gift to peter.

peter’s eyes flickered from the festive condom box to sam, who was mimicking a basketball shoot, to bucky, who was trying his best to paste his frown back on, but clearly struggling as he took in peter’s bewilderment and sam’s ridiculousness.

“right, we’re done here! and you can come out from under the bed, we don’t care.” sam yelled back to peter as he dragged bucky away, muttering something that sounded like “horny teenagers…”

obviously, there was nobody under the bed. you were probably busy consoling steve in his bed. not that peter was thinking about you being in beds, of course. i mean, sure, he was, but in a purely innocent way. like, you were sitting on a frame you got from IKEA. super pure and stuff.

peter blinked a few times, swaying dazedly in place before resigning himself to brainstorming project ideas. he probably should’ve been mad that his project partner didn’t even know what mitosis was—the topic they had been studying for two weeks now—but he knew he could never be upset with you. instead, he pulled out his laptop and started taking notes for you. he had the material down, but after hearing how you’d felt inadequate around science and technology-oriented people, he’d be damned if he made you feel like you didn’t understand the material. (even if you didn’t.)

peter was so swept up in his work that he nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of you hissing at natasha as she laughed. it wasn’t like he wanted to listen in on your conversation or that he was a creep—he couldn’t help it! he had superhuman hearing, after all.

“—sleeping with him! i knew something was going on.” natasha wasn’t even trying to be quiet, and even with his hands over his ears, he could hear every word. he cursed his unnatural hearing

abilities. sleeping with someone? who were you sleeping with? why didn’t he know about this? peter wasn’t sure if he wanted to know anyway.

“i am not sleeping with him, you creep! since when did you become a conspiracy theorist?” peter heard natasha’s amused snort.

“riiight. so you just so happen to smell like cologne and you have bedhead in the middle of the afternoon when you and i both know you were up at 7:30 today?”

you groaned. your voice was pretty close to the door now, and peter nearly slammed his head down into the textbook so it wouldn’t look like he’d been intentionally eavesdropping.

“goodbye, natasha.” the door swung open to reveal a disgruntled figure who indeed had bedhead. shit. you were sleeping with steve. and he had basically encouraged you to. peter had never wanted to get punched in the face more.

“hey,” you sighed, collapsing dramatically next to peter’s side. his back was hunched over in concentration, but as your body brushed against his arm, he stiffened. you looked concerned. “everything good?”

peter thought he was going to be sick.

“yeah! yep, i’m totally good. really great, actually, because i just remembered that may said we were getting thai tonight! so i should probably get back earlier.” he forced out an unconvincing laugh. “uh, i took notes for you. i’ll just share the document when i get home, or something. okay! bye! see you tomorrow! i’m super excited to work on our project!” peter rambled as he shoved everything into his backpack, zipping it up with unnatural speed and running out of your room without so much as a look backwards.

sunday morning was rainy and humid. peter steeled himself before knocking on your bedroom door, squeezing out the last of the water in his floppy hair.

“pete!” you squealed, happy to see him. after his abrupt leave yesterday, you thought you might’ve done something wrong and spent the night restlessly wracking your brain for anything that could’ve upset him. you never ended up figuring it out; your brain only stopped it’s churning after the first glimmers of sunrise peaked through your window.

you threw yourself into peter’s chest, knocking the air out of him. after a second or two, peter wrapped his arms around yours and rubbed his hand up and down your back soothingly, making sure it didn’t slip down further than would be platonically acceptable. your arms clung around his waist possessively, clinging onto him as if he was going to run away again.

“you’re gonna get all wet if you keep hugging me like this,” peter chided, craning his neck to rest his chin on the crown of your head. you were a bit too short for it to be a comfortable position, and the two of you had always laughed about it, but the truth was peter enjoyed the closeness of it. he felt your warm breath against his damp shirt as you mumbled something with your face pressed into his body. it tickled.

“hm? what was that?” just like yesterday afternoon, he stroked the back of your head and ran his fingers through your hair. you sighed, melting into his embrace even more.

“i said your chest is too hard. i feel like i’ve given myself a concussion.” you scoffed. “you’d make the worst pillow ever. absolutely horrible at cuddling,” you mumbled, pressing your face back into his chest and inhaling deeply, “and you’re like the worst hugger.”

peter laughed and you could feel his body vibrating around you. you unwravelled yourself from him but kept your hands on his biceps so you could pull back steadily. you looked him up and down and frowned when you saw his sneakers, which had left squeaky puddles of water outside your room.

“ew, look at the mud.” you poked his shoe with your fluffy-sock covered toe. “c’mon, i’ll find something for you to wear.” you pulled peter inside, your eyes fixated on your dresser with such determination that you missed the dopey smile on peter’s face as he trailed behind you, kicking the door shut once you were both in.

“take off your sneakers, they’re nasty.” you tossed a pair of bundled socks at peter with your back still turned as you dug through messy heaps of clothing. it hit his arm with a soft bump and another as it fell to the floor. you swung your head around, watching as he bent down to pick up the socks, already knowing what you were about to say it.

“i’m not even going to say anything.” you smirked. “i’ll save the peter tingle jokes to may.”

he pursed his lips together to try and suppress the grin that threatened to spread across his face as he sat on the edge of your bed and started untying his shoes. i have to control myself around her. she’s already taken—i think—and it would be so unfair for her to find out that i like her too. i can’t put her in that position. just act natural, peter. no pining.

“uh, all your shirts are in the wash.” you cracked your neck. “great. the minute i decided to wear them is when you need them the most.”

“you wear my clothes?” peter croaked, trying to fan away the image of you in one of those stupid science pun t-shirts he’d worn so often that they had softened from their original stiff, boxy, cheap structure into something comfortable enough for you to wear, apparently.

“yeah, sometimes. to bed, and whatever, you know?” you fiddled with a bundle of fabric in your hands bashfully.

why are we always talking about beds.

you cleared your throat. “anyways! i found this. if it doesn’t fit, i’m sure i can scrounge for something else.” this time, he caught the shirt when you tossed it over to him. crossing his arms, he pulled off his damp shirt in one sweep, much to your horror.

jesus holy shit fucking christ. no wonder his chest is so hard. oh god, i said that out loud to him, didn’t i? that’s so embarrassing, oh my god. why am i like this? i’m staring. it’s not just embarrassing anymore, it’s creepy. but look at him! the rainwater makes his abs look like they’re-

your ogling was interrupted by the sight of the new, dry shirt covering up his bare skin. you shakily met his eyes, praying he hadn’t noticed. of course he fucking noticed. peter pushed the curls from his forehead to reveal the shit-eating grin pasted across his stupid, perfect face.

“uh, i’m glad it fits!” you squeaked, spinning around as quickly as you could. you busied yourself with digging around for more clothes as you heard peter’s chuckle approaching you. he wrapped his arms around you once more as he nuzzled his nose into your hair.

“oh, you’re wet!” peter unstuck his shirt from your damp one. you spun around, ears burning and eyes wide open. “oh my god! sorry, not like that! no, i mean,” he gestured wildly to your torso, “your shirt! you hugged me and now you’re w- damp.” he forced himself to make eye contact with you and not linger his gaze too long on your thin, semi-translucent top.

you spun around again to face your dresser, letting out a deep breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding before resuming to your digging. you held up a shirt proudly. “hey! i found another one of your shirts.” you held it up triumphantly. “i didn’t even know this one was here.”

peter examined it. “i haven’t seen this thing in ages. i can’t believe it was you that’s been stripping my closet barren. i thought they just kept getting lost in the wash.”

stripping. that doesn’t mean anything. this is peter. peter is not a stripper. you would not strip for peter. or strip peter.

the two of you laughed awkwardly before you began to take your shirt off too. peter didn’t find it so funny now. “ah- are you going to ch-change here? should i- um- do you want me to leave? i’m so sorry ididntmeantolook i-”

you couldn’t see the bright red flush blooming on peter’s cheeks, as you were currently stuck in your shirt.

“shit. um, peter?” you wriggled around, trying to free yourself.

“y-yeah?”

“i’m stuck.”

“you’re… stuck?” peter turned around to see you half-shirtless, your hands held over your head as you tried to pull the damp shirt off your head unsuccessfully. he prayed that you wouldn’t ask him for help, because he thought if he had to look at you a minute longer, he’d do something incredibly stupid.

“yeah. the shirt was tight to begin with and then the water made it stick and i must’ve- anyways, uh, can you help me?”

peter gulped. “are you sure?”

“please,” you begged. “this is so embarrassing already, please just help me get out of this. it’s not like you haven’t seen me in a bathing suit before and it’s like the same thing, right?”

yeah, it is the same thing, peter thought. and that’s the problem. seeing you in a bathing suit and seeing you now make me the same amount of nervous.

peter’s fingers tentatively brushed your ribcage and you shivered.

“i think it’s because my elbow is stuck in one of the sleeves.” you muttered from inside the shirt. “jeez, you’d think for a designer company, the clothing would be a bit more practical. i’m never letting dad buy me clothes ever again.”

peter gave your top a bit of a tug and you giggled in surprise as his fingers dragged up your chest, tickling your bare skin. he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips at the sight of you. you grinned once your head was free, and peter tossed the shirt behind him as he bore his eyes into yours, refusing to give in to his instinct to look down. the two of you stood like that for a while, your chest heaving as you caught your breath and peter’s heart pounding as he caught the movement from his peripheral.

“the fuck?” scott lang stood by the door, frozen in shock as his grip on his chocolate croissant loosened. the pastry fell to the ground with a sad thwap. “wow. i didn’t think i’d been gone for that long. it’s like all the interesting things happen when i’m away.” scott grumbled, scraping the chocolate off the floor.

“alright, i’ll leave the two of you to it. and next time, lock the door, goddamnit!” scott shook his head as he shut the door—properly this time—and walked away mourning the loss of his snack.

“i’m sorry, i must not’ve closed the door properly-” peter stuttered as you panicked. “i’m so sorry, this is so embarrassing i can’t believe everybody’s just seen me topless-” you rambled, pacing the room until you shivered.

“shit! i’m still not wearing a shirt!” you grabbed peter’s shirt—the one you had just been looking at—and slid it over your head in record speed.

peter barked a fake laugh. “that’s so funny!” he said, dead serious. “everyone’s… seen you shirtless? ha, ha, ha!” what the fuck.

“no, no that’s not it!” you fretted, taking his hands in yours. “no! i meant you and scott. and tony, obviously. and like, bruce. and wanda and natasha because we go shopping all the time, you know? not steve, though. i think he’d pass away on the spot.”

“oh! that’s… nice!” peter choked. so me and scott and tony. that makes sense. and bruce, maybe he was doing some medical thing? well, at least steve wasn’t on that list.

“...i realize now how weird that must’ve sounded.” you gulped. “i swear, i’m not stripping for the entire team. it- it makes more sense in context. i swear.” you rubbed his arm comfortingly, praying that he wouldn’t think the way you treated him was the same way you treated everyone else. no, the way you treated peter was very much different. maybe it was stupid to expect someone to be able to read your mind through your behaviors (well, not in wanda’s case), but you were terrified to cross any sort of boundary with peter, much less tell him how you’d been feeling lately, so you’d stick to, well, whatever this was.

“we should probably work on our project,” you commented.

“that’s a good idea.”

you hummed in agreement. “mitosis, right?”

“yep. cell division. did you get my notes?”

“yes,” you were unnervingly still as you stood by peter’s side, refusing to meet his eye. all of a sudden, you felt him take a sharp breath and fall into a seated position on the ground, tapping a spot next to him. the two of you rummaged around for your textbooks and notes, getting to work on a project that the subject matter of which you had no clue.

the downside of peter’s freaky spider powers was his insane metabolism, and it probably didn’t help that he was a growing teenage boy. peter’s stomach was growling loudly after a few hours, and he’d insisted he was fine. after the third dull roar, you jumped up.

“alright, you masochist. you’re not starving to death on my watch. you stay here and do the work because that’s what you’ve been doing the whole time and i’ll go make us something to eat.” he smiled as you left, watching you leave, clad with his shirt.

“you guys done?” scott pulled up beside you, cracking his knuckles.

“holy shit!” you screeched, not expecting the presence of the man who had not only snuck up on you but had also just seen you half-naked.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to startle you. are you kids hungry? i always get tired. it’s a lot of physical exertion.” he winked, poking around the cabinets with carelessly loud clatters.

“we’re probably gonna need another few days to finish,” you spoke absentmindedly, standing in front of the fridge as you investigated for anything with potential. “it’s turning out to be harder than i thought.”

“jesus, kid, you two are freaky! i never knew peter had it in him to- or should i say-”

“please do not finish that.” natasha swung herself over the countertop and settled into a relaxed slouch, her quiet entrance startling both of you.

“why are all of you so damn quiet?” you rolled your eyes, cutting up slices of different fruits.

“i could ask the same of you, we haven’t heard a peep. i thought tony was installing the soundproofing next sunday?” bucky trudged through the door, his footsteps loud and for once you were grateful. he leaned his hands on the counter and shared a look with natasha that you couldn’t quite decipher.

“trust me, i’m bitching and moaning plenty. this is taking so long,” you drawled, extending the vowels of your last word as you arranged the fruit onto a tray with a flourish. “alright, i’m out.”

you could hear the three avengers whispering loudly behind you as you made your way back to peter. “i can hear you, you know. why are all of you here anyways?”

“uh… we’re having a tea party?”

“okay, i cut out all the diagram parts last night. i didn’t start assembling them because i was pretty sure i’d end up gluing my hands together or putting it together wrong, so i figured we could just do it together.” peter had been coming over almost every day so that the two of you could work on your biology project. it turned out that as much as you hated biology, it was a lot more enjoyable when you got to work with peter.

“ooo, i love this part. it’s like assembling IKEA furniture.” the two of you looked over to your bed, remembering when peter had been visiting tony and found you in the middle of a pile of wood pieces, looking absolutely lost. he’d spent hours helping you undo the mistakes and put it together properly, and that’s when you knew that your feelings for him had changed.

you laughed at his excitement. charged with happiness, you rested your head on his shoulder without thinking. the two of you went silent almost immediately after comprehending the situation, and you moved to pull away, face burning. before you could, though, peter had slung an arm around your shoulder and pulled you in closer. you turned your head and buried it into his neck, your smile uncontrollable as you relished his touch.

“we should probably get the glue,” peter noted.

“good call.” you mumbled into his shoulder, warm breath drawing shivers from him.

“thank you.”

you stared at the diagram pieces. “glue is very necessary component.”

“for sure.”

neither of you made any effort to get glue.

“anyways!” peter broke the silence by nudging his shoulder to probe your head out. “i’m gonna be honest, we could probably finish this today if we really tried. i mean, we’re literally a floor away from the most advanced technology lab in the entirety of new york, surrounded by the greatest scientists and innovative minds of the century, so-”

“please do not inflate my dad’s ego any further. against all rules of logic and science or whatever, that thing will never stop growing. it’ll grow until it swallows all of north america.”

“gotcha…” peter’s voice became softer, eyes growing a little hazy as he stared to the side of your face. his hand stretched out, fingers quivering ever so slightly, and for just a second, you thought that maybe he was going to take your chin in his hands and kiss you. but that’d be stupid, because you were just friends and kissing was decidedly non-platonic. instead, he brushed a strand of hair behind your ears.

“sorry, it was distracting me,” he confessed bashfully. “but i was gonna say is how i think it’s kind of funny that we’re making this 3-d cardstock diagram of the mitosis process when honestly? we could probably be testing mr. stark’s updated blasters or making lightsabers or something.”

you looked at peter for a second and then burst into a guffaw. “our project seems so trivial compared to all that, but is it weird that i actually think of this as my baby? we must’ve spent at least eight hours on this—yeah, i know we probably could’ve gotten away with finishing something simpler in half the time, but i really enjoy spending time with you—” you rushed, taking a breath after realizing what you had said, and then continuing just as quickly as you had been speaking before. “but this?” you picked up the meticulously cut components to your diagrams made of cardstock detailed with fine-lined sharpie drawings of spindly kinetochore-microtubule, cleverly crumpled cellophane chromosomes and little buttons for the chromatids.

“it’s not stupid!” peter blurted, quick to reassure you. “i’m pretty proud of it too. now let’s go use some of banner’s precision glue and assemble this bad boy.”

by the time the two of you had finished putting together every 3-d replica of the six stages of mitosis, your backs were sore from how long you’d been hunched over. you rolled your head and heard your neck crack loudly.

“holy shit, how long have we been here?” you mumbled, blinking forcefully to escape your fuzzy state of concentration. “FRIDAY? what time is it?”

“it is 7:45pm. you have not yet eaten; would you like me to place an order for dinner?”

peter’s head perked up at the sound of dinner. “DELMARS?” he looked at you with puppy-dog eyes even though he knew you wouldn’t need any convincing.

you sighed sarcastically, throwing your body across your chair as if you had just fainted. “if you insist,” you groaned. you raised your voice a bit to signal FRIDAY. “can i get the fried avocado tacos? two- nah, three of them. and please specify that i do not want them smushed down real flat.”

“hey, i’ll have you know that flattened sandwiches are more efficient and less messy to eat. and-”

you lost focus on peter’s words as he listed off his usual order; instead, you found yourself admiring his side profile. even from the lab table diagonal from him, you could see the brightness of excitement in his eye that you always found endearing. you loved watching him so happy over something as simple as sandwiches, and you felt honored that you were the one who got to experience that happiness. you wondered what it’d be like if he looked at you with that sort of gleaming adoration one day.

“right! i’m basically done; i just need to figure out how to do the cytokinesis shape.” peter announced, taking a peek at your three perfectly done models. you always had a better instinct for solutions, and creating what was essentially a three-dimensional figure eight with convincingly spherical outsides was something peter was scared to approach altogether.

“i’ve got you, pete!” you kicked off from the legs of your table and slid towards peter on your wheeled chair. perhaps you had used too much force because the momentum of your path sent you tumbling straight into peter’s chair, where you jolted forwards. you swore you could see each second ticking by in slow motion as your heads came closer and closer to collision, and your hands frantically reached out in front of you for something to prevent the impending bump and potential concussion. one of your flailing hands landed on his shoulder, which you squeezed hard until your nails dug into his skin. the other found a home on his upper thighs, where you tried to find a stable grip. almost immediately, peter’s eyes went wide, and his cheeks flushed a dark shade of red.

he gulped. “t-thank you! i actually have to go to the bathroom, so maybe could you finish this one for me?” his eyes darted around the room frantically, looking anywhere but at you. “and i’ll pick up the food while i’m at it! bye!” peter tugged his shirt down as he bolted through the automatic glass doors, leaving you alone and a bit hurt.

you fiddled with the model for a bit before you were able to arrange it in a shape you were satisfied with. setting everything aside and admiring the six perfectly made representations of mitosis, you let out a long, satisfied breath. finally, the worst of the biology projects for this year was over. it’d be smooth sailing from here on outwards. you’d be lying if you said you would miss peter’s presence in your room on chilly new york nights with cups of coffee beside you as you finished homework for non-bio classes. though the boy had been working with your father for a while, you never connected with him until partnered for this project, and you weren’t sure where that would leave you after the project was over. would he still come over for study sessions? would you go back to your individual friend groups? would he even be bothered to spend one-on-one time with you anymore?

peter returned with two paper bags in each hand and a triumphant smile on his face. you pumped your fist excitedly.

“yesss,” you hissed, jumping up and grabbing the bag with your name. “i feel like my stomach is eating me from the inside out. can we move up to the kitchen? don’t tell dad, but i’d kill for a coffee right now.”

“you’re drinking coffee? this late? that’s a bad idea, and you know i won’t hesitate to get mr. stark involved if y-”

“oh no, he doesn’t care about how late i drink coffee. he just thinks it’s a sin to pick coffee over redbull,” you shrugged, scooping up as much of your project as you could in one arm. “c’mon bugbaby!” you spared him a look before disappearing through the door and upstairs, absolutely ravenous.

peter stood there for a couple of seconds, feeling stupid, before he caught himself in the act. he forced his lips, which had been quirked up into a dopey smile, into a stoic line. he squished his face together to rid himself of his pinched eyebrows and dazed stare. and the sigh of adoration he had let out became a coughing fit. peter thumped his chest a couple of times to rid his throat of the imaginary block, but he couldn’t lie to himself. the thing making him choke up was his feelings for you, which had been shoved down for so long that they seem to have compressed themselves into a little ball that was now trying to escape through peter’s esophagus. well, shit!

by the time he had made it to the kitchen with the rest of the project in his arms, you were already perched on the countertop, swinging your legs contentedly and chewing your sandwich, which was decidedly not squished down real flat. your face lit up when you saw peter and you waved enthusiastically; in doing so, you knocked down a couple of the figures that you’d set down behind you tumbling to the ground.

“shit! peter! oh god,” you squeaked, putting down your sandwich on the wax paper and trying to scramble off the counter. peter dropped his bag on the ground and came to help you down, grabbing your waist and lifting you up before softly resting your feet on the floor. you giggled; his hands on your waist were tickling you. he smirked, realizing his opportunity to instigate a tickle war.

“don’t even th-” you warned him before your eyes widened as you remembered what you had come down for.

the two of you raced around the counter, terrified at what you might find. to your relief, the project was in perfect shape. the two of you were panting—peter was heaving with shock still painted on his face while you had your hand clutching the fabric of your shirt over your heart.

“i can’t breathe,” you confessed, laughing through your gasps as you tried to calm yourself down. you collapsed to the ground with a moan.

peter crouched down beside you, picking up one of the figures tentatively and examining it for potential cracks or weak spots. there was nothing; if the two of you hadn’t been there yourselves, you never would’ve been able to tell they’d dropped.

peter held the figure closer to your face, turning the model around so that you could see what he was referring to. “you’re so good,” he marveled, admiring the meticulous glue work that you’d done. he smiled with a sigh. “no one else could do it like you.”

you rolled your eyes. “come here.” you patted the floor next to where you were laying, but instead of joining you, peter grabbed the fallen figures and walked away. you whined.

“i’m coming, give me a second,” peter delicately arranged the fallen figures alongside the ones still on the counter. then he flopped down on the floor next to you, but instead of lying parallel to your body, he dropped his head on your stomach.

“peter!” you cried, smacking his forehead. “ugh, i hate you,” you groaned, trying to sit up so you could shove him off of you.

“no, you don’t,” he rebutted. peter wasn’t going to back down in a fight, so instead of allowing you to sit upright, he rolled the rest of his body on top of yours, effectively flattening you. you wanted to laugh, but your stomach was being pushed down by peter’s back.

“why… are you… so…” you heaved, “heavy?”

peter laughed evilly, rolling his body around so that his back was no longer on you; rather, so that you were stomach-to-stomach. he propped himself up on his elbows, letting his chest hover over yours. he smirked as he watched you grumble from underneath him. “i gotcha,” he whispered, face just a few inches from yours.

“why is this your go-to when fucking with me,” you poked his cheek with exasperation, making no effort to do so gently. “there are literally an infinite amount of things you could do to me and it’s always the one that ends up with me sore and unable to breathe.” you kicked your legs around threateningly before peter could open his mouth.

“i have knees and i’m not afraid to use them,” you taunted, deadly serious. you pushed your knee up, dangerously close to his upper thigh.

“nope! i’m done, i’m off! i concede!” he yelled, scrambling to escape. in his frantic movements, he ended up full-force dropping on you with no arms to soften the impact, and you both groaned. you turned your head, to avoid a forehead collision. also to avoid your lips from touching. that may have happened if you hadn’t turned your head, and having lips on lips is not very platonic.

“i swear to god, if you gave me a concussion, i’m gonna-”

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?” tony raged, storming into the kitchen with his hands thrown up in the air. “WHERE ARE THE DAMN CHILDREN?”

scott stuck his head out from behind a corner to investigate the drama. (he loved drama.) “oh, your daughter? yeah, last time i saw her was in her room with peter; i think they were changing or something.”

“excuse me?” tony looked furious.

bruce arrived. “no, i actually let them use my lab. didn’t wanna disturb them. they’ve been working really hard on their bio project on reproduction so i just let them have the place to themselves.”

tony’s mouth dropped. “banner, are you shitting me? we all know what happens when two teenagers are alone in a room together! and we all know reproduction project does not mean… what it’s supposed to mean! you just let them? and in the lab too? did they even have safety goggles?”

bucky and sam, who never passed up the opportunity to hear fresh gossip and had crept in a while ago, gave each other knowing grins.

“don’t worry, tony,” sam held back a laugh.

“they’re definitely… safe…” bucky wheezed, the two of them struggling to stay upright as they watched tony’s rage slip into confusion.

natasha strolled in casually. “you got them protection?” she snorted. “cute.”

you and peter were frozen in your places. so frozen, in fact, that peter’s cheeks resembled the flaming red of anna’s hair and your knuckles had gone as pale as elsa’s snow. neither of you wanted to go out and face the crowd, so the two of you stayed extremely quiet as you prayed nobody would look over the counter.

“they’re right there,” clint yelled from his perch, pointing you two out.

tony stalked over, fuming. when he saw the situation, he was no longer fuming, but on fire. “PETER PARKER, GET YOUR STICKY, PUBESCENT HANDS OFF OF MY DAUGHTER.”

“i’m so sorry, m-mr. stark! i- we’re not-”

“it’s not what it looks like!” you exclaimed, pushing peter’s chest in an unsuccessful attempt to get him off of you. curse his perfectly chiseled 6-pack abs and his weird super-spider strength. just fucking move!

as tony panicked, you hissed at peter. “move!” he realized he had remained in place and clambered off you instantly, the two of you crawling over to separate corners to put as much space between your bodies as possible.

the crowd of avengers struggled to hold back their laughter. well, sam and bucky weren’t trying to at all. but the rest of them (unsuccessfully) attempted to stifle their roars.

“does anyone want to explain why i found two children committing unholy acts in the middle of my million-dollar kitchen?” tony seethed.

natasha raised her eyebrows. “you could’ve at least tried to keep it down, you know.”

“but we weren’t even-”

sam rolled his eyes. “no point in excuses not; you weren’t even trying to be discreet.” he pitched his voice up to imitate the two of you badly. “‘peter! oh god!’ ‘i’m coming!’ ‘you’re so good, no one else could do it like you!’”

“c’mon, and in a common area too? it’s my bad i barged into you guys before, but this one’s your fault, dudes.” scott scolded.

tony’s face was almost entirely red. bruce’s face was also red, for a different reason. tony pulled peter up by the collar. the two of them were shaking, also for very different reasons.

“so, not only are you sneaking around with my daughter behind my back,” tony poked peter in the chest. “but you’re doing… you’re doing the nasty with her too? and you have the nerve to defile my kitchen?” he shoved peter off of him, who stumbled backward.

tony kept creeping closer. “i should take away your suit. clearly, you aren’t trustworthy or responsible enough for this. you know, i had a lot of faith in you kid,” tony looked murderous. “and you screwed up big time.” he took a deep breath to compose himself, and his next words were low and threatening. “i don’t want to see you near my daughter ever again.”

you jumped to your feet, furious. “are you insane? peter and i are just friends!”

“oh yeah? explain why you were on top of each other, a- and all the things that sam said!”

your voices had raised considerably since the start of the confrontation. the onlooking avengers no longer found this very funny, and trickled out slowly.

“we’re friends! we’ve always been friends! you guys are just jumping to conclusions because peter just so happens to be a boy and i just so happen to be a girl!” peter had backed away a bit, which gave you the chance to get into your dad’s space.

“i don’t care what you are, there is no way i’m letting my daughter be with some sticky, hormonal, lit-”

“stop!” you shook your head, unbelieved. “stop it! you don’t get to talk about peter that way. peter and i are just friends, we have always been just friends, and we are always going to be just friends. so either you apologize to him, or you can go f-” you hesitated. “you can go fuck off.”

it might’ve been inappropriate timing, but peter’s heart broke.

tony silenced, his eyes narrowing at your outburst. he opened his mouth to snap back, but you grabbed peter’s hand and dragged him off, not bothering to look back. tony angrily stared at your intertwined fingers.

you and peter had retreated to your bedroom, where you slammed the door and threw yourself onto your bed, tears already beginning to well up. peter sat by the foot of your bed, not daring to come any closer.

“i’m sorry,” peter croaked. he instinctively reached out to rub your leg consolingly, but pulled back just as quickly.

“don’t apologize. you didn’t do anything wrong,” you sniffed. “dad’s just being an asshole. a huge asshole. god, he can be so-” you shoved your face into a pillow and screamed. you sat up to face peter. “i’m the one who should be sorry. he- he had no right to treat you like that. absolutely none. and none of the things he said about you were true.”

you tentatively extended both your hands, palms up, and he took them in his. “i think the two of us just have a tendency to get caught up in arguments. we always say things we don’t mean. and i promise, the whole suit thing was a lie. he really loves you, pete. i hope you know that.”

a quiet tear rolled down peter’s cheek. you brushed it off gently. “i just- i don’t know what i would do if i couldn’t see you anymore,” he choked. “and this is all so stupid, you know? it was embarassing, but kind of funny at first, but now i’m realizing-” peter looked down, shaking his head and laughing quietly to himself.

“what is it, peter?”

he looked up at you from beneath wet eyelashes. “i’m realizing that, i guess, i kind of wish what everyone was saying was true.”

you furrowed your eyebrows. “you wish dad would take your suit away?”

“no, i mean-”

your eyes widened. “you wanted us to fuck in bruce’s lab? peter, there are some of the world’s deadliest chemicals in there and i have a perfectly functioning bedroo- oh shit.”

the two of you looked at each other wordlessly.

i basically just told peter that i wanted to fuck him in my bedroom.

she literally just told me she wants to fuck me in her bedroom.

“yeah, i mean- no! i mean, yes, your bedroom is definitely safer and more practical but that’s- what i’m trying to say is-” peter stuttered. “yes, i would love to have sex with you! but that’s- holy fuck. oh shit.” peter let go of your hands immediately and practically threw himself off the bed onto the wall. “no! not that i want to have- no, not that i don’t want to, but i was trying to say was that i wish, you know, that we weren’t just friends. like they were saying, you know. or, i guess insinuating. well, they were insinuating that we were having unprotected sex in the lab, but that implies that we weren’t just friends, but that could mean we were just friends with benefits, and i’m not trying to say that i want to be friends with benefits with you-” peter gasped for air.

you interrupted him. “i think i know what you mean.” you swallowed thickly. “remember when i said we were just friends and only ever going to be just friends? and uh, do you remember what i said earlier about saying stuff in the heat of the moment?” peter nodded furiously. “that was just the heat of the moment.”

peter stopped nodding. he looked at you, absolutely lost. you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“i think what we’re both trying to say—or at least, i really hope this is what you’re trying to say too—is that um, neither of us wants to be friends.”

you winced.

“wait, no, that came out wrong. we don’t want to be platonic. or, i don’t, at least. i like you romantically, peter. is this a bad time to say that? considering you just got threatened by my dad for supposedly hooking up with me.”

“no! no, it’s not a bad time. and i like you too, actually. i’ve liked you for a while. i-” peter laughed breathlessly. “i actually kind of thought you were with steve.” he scratched the back of his neck, blushing.

“steve? dude, he’s like 106!”

“i know, i know! i don’t know what i was thinking,” peter huffed.

“c’mere,” you opened your arms for him and he climbed beside you, accepting your embrace. you could feel his warm breath on your face.

“your breath smells like pickles,” you murmured, nestling your head into his chest.

“sorry.”

tony was about to bore holes into the expensive tiled flooring with all of his pacing. bruce was the only one brave enough to come back into the kitchen.

“what do you want?” tony grumbled, refusing to look at the scientist.

“tony, take a look at these models.”

“i don’t want to take a look at whatever it is my daughter and that sinful spider boy produced,” he whined.

“no, look. the figures—they’re not just reproduction. they’re asexual reproduction. a very well-done representation of the mitosis process, actually.” bruce held up some of the models in awe. “these are really well done! letting them use the lab was worth it,” he muttered to himself.

tony raised his head, glaring. “what are you talking ab- oh.”

on the countertop were six intricate replicas of cell division. “this is what you meant by ‘reproductive project?’” tony whispered, horrified.

“i mean, i wasn’t exactly sure, but i figured-”

“oh my god,” tony paled. “i can’t believe i thought- all this time it was mitosis- god, and these models are beautiful too…” his jaw clenched, thinking back to the things he had said as he yelled at you and peter.

bruce sighed, giving tony a pointed look. the billionaire couldn’t meet his eyes.

“don’t look at me like that,” tony whined. “in my defense, all the evidence was stacked against them! what was i supposed to do?”

“hear them out?” bruce raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by tony’s immature self-soothing methods.

tony hid his face in his hands. “she must be so upset with me now. and the spider boy… jeez, i’m a fucking douche, aren’t i?”

bruce patted tony on the back consolingly. “well, you heard the girl. you can either apologize or fuck off, and i think you’ve tried and failed at fucking off. so you might as well go with the first option.” the scientist walked away, leaving tony alone to soak in his own guilt.

bruce is right. i can’t ever own up to my mistakes, can i? first i make my daughter patch things up with steve for a comment that i made, and then i go and accuse her of something she didn’t do without even giving her the chance to speak? god, if i had just shut up for a minute, she could’ve explained everything and none of this would have happened.

tony rubbed his temples, exhaling heavily as he found himself standing in front of your door. he knocked softly, but heard no verbal response. maybe you had left the tower? before he could ask FRIDAY for your location, he heard the shuffling of sheets. oh no, did i make her cry?

tony cracked open the door and peered in. “favorite spawn? are you there?”

when he opened the door fully, he watched as you and peter peeled yourselves away from each other again, breathless and flushed. his eyes flickered between the two of you before he noticed your puffy lips and your avoided eye contact.

“peter parker, have you been kis-” tony raised his hands and pinched his fingers together, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to calm himself down. he tried talking again, but slowly and more thoughtfully. “using context clues, i have come to the hypothesis that the two of you had previously been k- kissing.” he fought the urge to gag.

“i also observe that the two of you are on my daughter’s bed. alone, with the door closed. and that is… okay. because… the right to privacy is protected by the 14th amendment. unfortunately.” he said the last word under his breath. you and peter looked at each other, perplexed.

“in the kitchen, i discovered six models of… the mitosis sequence. footnote: they are very well constructed. uh, i realize now that perhaps i had… overreacted. and unjustly threatened peter. and also jumped to conclusions. and i also had not trusted you. all of which are… mistakes… that i made. and for that, i am… i am… s-sorry.”

you raised your eyebrows. “did you just… apologize?”

tony nodded his head hesitantly. you jumped out of bed, making your way over to him. tony gulped. this is it. this is the end.

you slapped tony across the face.

“oh my god!” you screamed. “i’m so sorry! holy- i’m so sorry, dad! i didn’t mean that at all, i thought you were a hologram! i was trying to see if my hand would go through, you know?”

tony chuckled. “i- i probably deserved that.” he rubbed his cheek which was now growing pink.

peter hopped off the bed to stand hesitantly behind you, not fully confident that tony wasn’t going to castrate him.

“so, you and my daughter, huh?” tony crossed his arms, leaning his weight onto one foot.

“y-yes, mr. stark.”

tony sucked his teeth and sighed. despite his nerves, peter straightened his back and came to stand firmly beside you. you looped your pinky around his.

“well, as you are aware, i do have multiple suits with blasters capable of melting iron, ironically.” peter steeled himself. “and you are currently standing in my billion-dollar tower surrounded by earth’s mightiest heroes who will not hesitate to decimate you should anything happen to my daughter.” peter gulped.

“but i am also aware that you are…” tony pursed his lips in resignation. “you have proven yourself more than capable on multiple accounts, and i was wrong to question you.” tony wrung his hands. “and you have saved my daughter and your classmates and even that asshole teacher about four times now. and i see the way you look at her; how you’ve always looked at her—which by the way, is a really embarrassing, dopey look on you, boy—and my head was too far up my ass to realize that you two are big boys and girls now.”

tony sniffed emotionally, blinking back proud dad tears. “and obviously my daughter doesn’t need any protecting, because she’s a stark and she could whoop your ass in her sleep, but i know how much you care for her and i know you’ll look out for each other. so… i give you my blessing.”

you looked confused. “dad, you know we’re not getting married, right?”

tony took a step back and waved his hands around. “dear god, no! i don’t want to hear about marriage until at least 30 years later! you guys are too young to be mouth mashing anyways and i’m already being very lenient with letting you have the door closed!”

“uh, thank you, mr. stark. it really means a lot.” peter bit his lip to hold back what you knew was going to be a brilliant grin.

“don’t get used to it, kid.” tony rubbed his hands together. “well, in a few years or so i’ll have bruce teach you two about the birds and the bees. for now, um, wash your hands for at least 20 seconds, kids.” tony shot you two thumbs up. “alright, peace out.”

when tony’s footsteps receeded, you turned to peter and threw your arms around his neck. “you have a look for me, huh?” you spoke into peter’s shoulder.

“i guess i do. i guess i always have. you’re hard not to look at, do you know that?”

peter could feel the vibrations and your warm breath as you laughed into his shirt.

“no, i don’t think you know,” he insisted. he threaded his fingers through your hair and closed his eyes, comfortable. “everybody sees you- you’re stunning, and not just in the physical way. you have this weird talent—it’s like you’re a light—and everything is just so much better with you. y’know, i hated coffee until you made it for me. and i dreaded spanish until i found out you were in my class, so i think… i think i’ve lo- liked you, felt this way for you, for longer than i’ve known.”

he could feel your lips curve into a smile. “you’re such a goddamn sap, pete,” you muttered, nuzzling his chest. “you know i hate sappy stuff. but i could make an exception for you.”

“oh really?” he placed one purposeful kiss on the crown of your head. “i think…” he began leaving kisses more sporadically until he reached your temple, then your cheek, then the tip of your nose. “i think that i’ll just have to be extra sappy. you know, to see how much you like me.” he pulled you away from his chest and held you at an arms length with a smile that could rival the sun.

“and in that case…” peter got down on one knee. you gasped theatrically.

peter pressed his palms together and opened them like a ring box. “will you be my girlfriend?”

you wiped away fake tears and you squealed, “yes!”

a distant voice that sounded suspiciously like tony’s interrupted the romantic proposal. “i said 30 years until marriage!”

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

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purble-gaymer · 5 months

Text

i need to talk about falspar before i explode

okay so here’s the guy we’re talking about plus information that will be important going forward:

number 1. he is genderfluid and uses any pronouns but primarily he/him

number 2. he is aro/pan (but he doesn't know the aro part for a while)

number 3. autism adhd and a healthy dose of rejection sensitive dysphoria

without further ado, here is my lore dump

(also: warnings for child neglect and drug use)

for the sake of structuring my thoughts i'm gonna pull from a couple songs that have been fueling all this. i know it's cliche to have mother mother in character playlists but you have to trust me okay. because it's ball cap and touch up and the album they're from is dear to my heart

let's talk about astrals. in case you thought otherwise, this is going to be very headcanon-heavy so i'm opening with my hardest hitter and that's astral reproduction.

option 1: mitosis. can only be performed once due to the unstable nature of void creatures

option 2: random birth as a result of the random collision of light matter particles in space

in the case of option 2, the newborn usually just drifts around until they get caught in a planet's orbit and pulled to the ground. in the case of either option, they imprint on the first creature they see. only really a problem for option 2.

falspar here is option 2. he landed on mekkai before the whole planet became industrialized, which happened gradually during his time there. (additional note before i forget to put it anywhere: mekkai's vernacular is derivative of german because german is like 'the science language.' he grows up speaking both common and this yet-to-be-named vernacular.) when he's eventually found, he ends up in foster care because astrals live for a really long time and most species on mekkai aren't able to take care of someone for that long. he has no memory of whoever he may have imprinted on, but it never mattered to him that much.

(even if it's always felt like something was missing.)

so here's my first pull from ball cap:

I like the treetops 'Cause they're reaching just like me And I'm tied up in knots Like the brambles and the weeds

this stanza feels to me like it's from the perspective of a child. it feels like they're trying to fit in, or trying to understand why they struggle to fit in.

here's where some of that stuff i mentioned earlier comes in. all of it, actually, even if he didn't quite know all of it yet. 1, trans kid. astrals are born genderless and some ID otherwise later on. i imagine mekkai to be somewhat similar to human society, being so technologically advanced. something about colonialism and forcing the gender binary and now in the current day our young astral is very confused why everyone is trying to assign him an arbitrary label for something he doesn't have. of course it's too early for him to really question anything, but the confusion is always there.

2, welcome to my obligatory "you are aromantic" segment. wanna know how annoying it is to be aro in a romance-focused society? extremely! and that shit sticks with you forever unfortunately so you really have to try and unlearn it! this comes in more later and i'll talk about it then, but similar to point 1 there's the inkling that something is wrong, even if he doesn't know what just yet.

and 3, neurodivergent. here's where i insert my 'astrals are like cats' headcanon and tell you all astrals are autistic and there's nothing you can do to stop me. anyway, this is the bit that ties to this lyric the most at this point. yknow when you feel different and don't know why? or you do know why, and you're even more conscious about how you're just not like everyone around you? that's what this line is to me. reaching to understand your peers, but ultimately extending your arms and finding nothing in your grasp, just empty sky.

so, he starts not really fitting in anywhere. nowhere feels right. no one seems interested in him. he's loud, excitable, enthusiastic, but it seems to scare people off more than it invites them in. he moves between families a lot for the first few decades because, again, no one on mekkai is really equipped to deal with a kid who ages and matures ten times slower than the average person on the planet. this makes schooling especially bad--how do you even compensate for something like that? moving him up each year is far too fast, keeping him in the same grade for ten years is pointlessly excessive. it's complicated and he gets through it, but not without a lot of struggle. completing work always feels like a fight.

moving on: remember how awful it is being in your early to mid-teens? we're there now and all three things i mentioned before have only begun weighing on him more now that he's starting to understand them. societal pressure rolls around again! sex, drugs, rock 'n' roll being ostracized by your peers for not following the norm!

we can scratch that first one off the list because aro + terrified of emotional intimacy. the aro thing isn’t a problem but it is certainly confusing and he's like the equivalent of 16 at this point and has no fucking clue what any of that means. it sure as hell doesn't make him feel better about himself. second one's easy but we'll get to that in a moment. i only put the third one there for the joke but he probably does like rock. and the fourth is basically at the forefront of his thoughts the entire time.

this is about the time where he starts noticing things. a lot to do with his current family, mostly that...they don't really seem interested in him. no one ever has. he could never really make friends because they would all grow up and move on without him. his past family members cared about him, sure, but he always knew he would have to leave eventually, so he tried not to get attached. the longer he sits on this, the more sick of it he becomes. after a while he decides he's going to get someone's attention, whether it's good attention or not.

here's where the drugs come back. it's crazy what a little brain-altering substance can do. suddenly, you have no inhibitions, no fears, and falspar ends up with some friends for the first time. or at least, with people who don't find him unbearable to be around. he's not exactly close with any of them, but at least he's not alone, right?

here's another line that's relevant for this portion:

Oh, don't you know that beauty is only skin deep? Well, baby, baby, come on and skin me

his current state is a culmination of peer pressure, the weight of societal standards, and his refusal to really be vulnerable with anyone, only able to do so with great pain. this is a very confusing, very stressful period of one's life and everything that's happened up to this point is only making things worse.

but the drugs help. at least somewhat. he's able to talk to people. he can be normal for once. he goes along with his friends, and he's happy. at least, he's pretty sure he is. what starts as regular fun after-school activities starts to turn into some not-so-legal ones. but they're still pretty fun, he'll admit. the thrill practically gives him the same high as a smoke.

when his family hears, they aren't happy. falspar is, though. they start keeping a closer eye on him, making sure he gets home on time, and while he's still sneaking out with his friends from time to time, it's nice to know someone is wondering what he's doing.

it was nice for a while, at least. what he isn't ready for is after he became a legal adult, they asked him to leave. well, 'asked' is a gentle way to put it.

he manages to get ahold of a few closer friends who graduated recently and were living together in the next town over, and they invite him to stay with them. he's stressed at first, afraid of being a burden, finding a job as soon as possible to help out. after a few months, he gets more comfortable, and then...

freedom. for the first time, he doesn't feel...obligated to be one way or another. he works and helps around the house, and in the evening he and his friends hang out and smoke and play games and for once, he's happy. he really, really is, and the morning he wakes up and realizes it he decides it's time for a change. he cuts his hair and picks out a new name and he's finally started to understand himself.

i haven't said anything about touch up yet, so here's a bit from the bridge that i'm about to rip into:

I forget that I can remember when I was young, climbing up fences Scraping my knees, dirt on my cheeks Not one makeover queen bone in me

there's a stark contrast between falspar's younger self and who he becomes as he grows up. to address this stanza directly, there's the obliviousness that comes with being a child. there's no bigger picture, there's no pressure to be someone you're not, to pretend to be like the people around you for their approval. maybe something was off, but what did it matter? those problems seem so small now.

as he gets older, in comes the confusion, the isolation, the self-loathing. something was wrong, something, even if he didn't know exactly what, and it was excruciating. there had to be an answer, right? yet no matter how much he searched and fought, he could never find one.

and then, escaping all that, and being allowed to breathe freely. you have other problems now, sure, but all that weight is gone. somehow just the idea of being an 'adult' now opens up so many doors, and for the first time in, hell, maybe his entire life, falspar looks in the mirror and smiles back at the person he sees in it.

the repetition of the line "All my makeup, it has washed off" has two meanings in this context. the first, and more positive, being that he's able to do...anything, really. he can relax. unmask. he doesn't have to perform for anyone. he can remove the paint and be himself and for once he's not going to be forced to conform. it doesn't matter what other people think, you are alive, why shouldn't he be able to live authentically?

the second relates to his younger self again. this whole song feels like the buildup to a breakdown, eventually coming to a close with the constant repeat of "I need a touch up/give me the touch up," and one finally slam on the guitar, the exhausting aftermath playing out as it slowly fades to nothing. losing that mask is devastating, he can't be seen without it, he'll be cast out again, discarded, abandoned, and he can't let that happen, not now, not after everything. and once it's over, he's left alone, in the dark, too afraid to turn to anyone no matter how badly he wants to.

okay. this is getting really long and i'd love to add how he gets to the gsa here, but i think i've said enough. i'm done with the song analysis at this point, too, so i'll have to talk about it some other time.

YEESH feels good to get all that out of my system. if you've made it to the end of this, thank you so much for reading. it means a lot. can you tell i really really like this guy?

#sir falspar #headcanon pile #jesus this took me like three hours to write what the fuck #he has the most in-depth history of any of the gsa guys but i do have stuff to say about the other three #bwhuh. another time maybe

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