Birthday fic!
Oct. 3rd, 2009 10:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seriousficLook, Marvel, if you write Peter Parker as a creeper, I'm going to write fics where he's a caring human being. Cause and effect, baby.
Title: Don’t look at my face (unless you want to see my eyes)
Fandom: Spider-Man
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,033
Characters/Pairings: Peter/Felicia
Author’s notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
prozacpark’s birthday, since I herd u liek Peter/Felicia. (Helen, if your feedback doesn’t begin “fuck yeah Peter/Felicia!”, I’ll be extremely disappointed.) This takes place back when Peter and Felicia were first dating, in Spectacular Spider-Man volume one.
Summary: There’s the morning after, and then there’s the morning after-and-oh-yeah-she-ripped-off-my-secret-identity-protecting-mask-during-our-incredibly-hot-spontaneous-sex.
Peter didn’t wake up in his own bed on October 3rd. He knew this because, firstly, it was actually soft, and second, because there were arms twined over his chest. They were also soft. There was also a mane of long, luxurious hair covering his shoulders and his throat. It tickled a little, actually.
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Peter reviewed the previous day. Woke up. Went to college. Grabbed lunch. Called Aunt May. Read a book. Did homework. Saw Rhino rampaging. Went to stop him. Snapped some pics. Teamed up with Cat…
He’d solved the mystery.
On second look, the room did have a feline theme. There weren’t kittens on the bedsheets or anything (he ought to know), but the prints on the wall tended to be of lions or tigers, not bears.
Okay, so they’d fought Rhino, he’d headbutted a bulldozer, Cat had seen the cut on his head, “Why don’t you come over to my place, Spider? I’ll fix you up.” She was a nurse, after all. At least, she had a nurse outfit.
After that… well, that Peter had no trouble remembering. He wiped some of her lipstick off his face with a gin. Wait… face… secret identity… okay, not funny anymore.
Next to him, Felicia stirred, a cat plus cream smile on her face. Peter momentarily considered a mad dash for his costume, but no, that wouldn’t be fair to Felicia. If he was going to spend the night, she deserved to know what he looked like. The alternative took them into this whole weird area that was more Daredevil’s scene.
But how? She’d stitched up the cut without taking his mask off, then kissed it better, then… they kinda fell into a rut with the kissing it better. But then there’s been some very enthusiastic naked-getting and she’d pulled off his mask and what had he done about it? Had he turned away, stopped her, told her they had to be smart? No. He’d left a semi-permanent imprint between her breasts. With his face.
So she’d seen his face. In face, she could probably recall it from touch, like a blind person. Not the end of the world, and he’d been through plenty of those. He could trust Felicia. He just wished this could’ve been more romantic, although he had told her he loved her. At least, certain parts of her. Otherwise, he’d emptied out the thesaurus. He adored her. He burned for it. He sucked.
He’d told Gwen he loved her.
“Morning, lover,” Felicia chimed, pulling herself up to lie on the pillow next to him, instead of over his heart, where her head had been resting. “Or should I start calling you handsome? You slept tight? Didn’t let the spiders bite?”
“No, I’ve learned my lesson. Actually, I think I took one too many bumps on the noggin. Last night is a little blurry.”
“Want me to remind you?” Cat’s fingers danced close enough to his anatomy to make him beg for mercy.
“Maybe later.”
The hand went away. “You’re having second thoughts,” Felicia sighed, looking across the pillow at him with weary eyes.
“No! Not… exactly.”
Peter sat up, sheet pulled around him out of an irrational sense of modesty. His pants were hanging from the ceiling fan and his mask was on the mantel like a trophy.
Felicia laid on the bed as he got dressed. “Relax. In case you don’t remember what I was screaming last night, I still don’t know your real name.”
“Felicia…”
“Don’t call me that. I hate that you can call me that and all I can call you is some nickname I just made up. You think I can tell people ’I’m dating Spider’?”
“Felicia.” Peter took her by the hand and pulled her up so he could sit down beside her, side to side with her. “I think maybe… my heart did what my head couldn’t. I’m not freaking out about this. I mean, I am, but not as much as I am about how they’re making a sequel to Hancock. That movie blew.”
Felicia threw herself out of bed and began to pace furiously. Peter tried hard not to be too… appreciative. Then he pulled a pillow over his lap while her back was turned.
She wheeled on him. “So this means something?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.” Felicia began gathering up her clothes. She had impressive recall of where they had landed. But then, furry catsuits were hard to misplace. “Now I’m freaking out.”
Thinking it would help, Peter picked up her goggles from the bedpost and offered them to her.
“I suppose I should share something with you then.”
Peter raised an eyebrow. “What do you call last night from the hours of eleven to three?”
“Spider, please. I’ve done that with valets.” She waved her hand. “No, not what I meant. I’ve fucked a lot, no apologies. But I’ve never felt about them the way I do about you. Really, I’ve never felt this way about anyone.” She hurriedly pulled on her clothes. “So that’s out there…”
“I have,” Peter said. He was still sitting on the bed. “I’ve felt the way I do about you with one person. And she died.”
Felicia straddled a chair opposite the bed. Her face was flat. Whatever she’d expected, it wasn’t this. “You want to leave it there?”
Peter fixed her with a stare, his hands working in front of his mouth like a mortar and pestle. “No. I loved her. White picket fence, 2.5 kids kinda love. But one of my enemies found out who I was and he killed her. And I couldn’t stop her.”
“Have you ever talked to anyone about this?”
“No.” He smiled grimly. “You’re the first.”
“You want to… go to her grave or something?”
Peter spotted his boots. “No. Right now, I’d really like to watch a movie.”
While he was pulling on his right boot, Felicia surprised him with a simple hug. He wouldn’t have expected anything on her part to be so intimate, yet so unsexual. “I have a lot of comedies.”
“Thanks, Felicia.” He held on a moment longer. “You can call me Peter, if you want.”
Title: Don’t look at my face (unless you want to see my eyes)
Fandom: Spider-Man
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,033
Characters/Pairings: Peter/Felicia
Author’s notes: Written for
prozacpark’s birthday, since I herd u liek Peter/Felicia. (Helen, if your feedback doesn’t begin “fuck yeah Peter/Felicia!”, I’ll be extremely disappointed.) This takes place back when Peter and Felicia were first dating, in Spectacular Spider-Man volume one.Summary: There’s the morning after, and then there’s the morning after-and-oh-yeah-she-ripped-off-my-secret-identity-protecting-mask-during-our-incredibly-hot-spontaneous-sex.
Peter didn’t wake up in his own bed on October 3rd. He knew this because, firstly, it was actually soft, and second, because there were arms twined over his chest. They were also soft. There was also a mane of long, luxurious hair covering his shoulders and his throat. It tickled a little, actually.
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Peter reviewed the previous day. Woke up. Went to college. Grabbed lunch. Called Aunt May. Read a book. Did homework. Saw Rhino rampaging. Went to stop him. Snapped some pics. Teamed up with Cat…
He’d solved the mystery.
On second look, the room did have a feline theme. There weren’t kittens on the bedsheets or anything (he ought to know), but the prints on the wall tended to be of lions or tigers, not bears.
Okay, so they’d fought Rhino, he’d headbutted a bulldozer, Cat had seen the cut on his head, “Why don’t you come over to my place, Spider? I’ll fix you up.” She was a nurse, after all. At least, she had a nurse outfit.
After that… well, that Peter had no trouble remembering. He wiped some of her lipstick off his face with a gin. Wait… face… secret identity… okay, not funny anymore.
Next to him, Felicia stirred, a cat plus cream smile on her face. Peter momentarily considered a mad dash for his costume, but no, that wouldn’t be fair to Felicia. If he was going to spend the night, she deserved to know what he looked like. The alternative took them into this whole weird area that was more Daredevil’s scene.
But how? She’d stitched up the cut without taking his mask off, then kissed it better, then… they kinda fell into a rut with the kissing it better. But then there’s been some very enthusiastic naked-getting and she’d pulled off his mask and what had he done about it? Had he turned away, stopped her, told her they had to be smart? No. He’d left a semi-permanent imprint between her breasts. With his face.
So she’d seen his face. In face, she could probably recall it from touch, like a blind person. Not the end of the world, and he’d been through plenty of those. He could trust Felicia. He just wished this could’ve been more romantic, although he had told her he loved her. At least, certain parts of her. Otherwise, he’d emptied out the thesaurus. He adored her. He burned for it. He sucked.
He’d told Gwen he loved her.
“Morning, lover,” Felicia chimed, pulling herself up to lie on the pillow next to him, instead of over his heart, where her head had been resting. “Or should I start calling you handsome? You slept tight? Didn’t let the spiders bite?”
“No, I’ve learned my lesson. Actually, I think I took one too many bumps on the noggin. Last night is a little blurry.”
“Want me to remind you?” Cat’s fingers danced close enough to his anatomy to make him beg for mercy.
“Maybe later.”
The hand went away. “You’re having second thoughts,” Felicia sighed, looking across the pillow at him with weary eyes.
“No! Not… exactly.”
Peter sat up, sheet pulled around him out of an irrational sense of modesty. His pants were hanging from the ceiling fan and his mask was on the mantel like a trophy.
Felicia laid on the bed as he got dressed. “Relax. In case you don’t remember what I was screaming last night, I still don’t know your real name.”
“Felicia…”
“Don’t call me that. I hate that you can call me that and all I can call you is some nickname I just made up. You think I can tell people ’I’m dating Spider’?”
“Felicia.” Peter took her by the hand and pulled her up so he could sit down beside her, side to side with her. “I think maybe… my heart did what my head couldn’t. I’m not freaking out about this. I mean, I am, but not as much as I am about how they’re making a sequel to Hancock. That movie blew.”
Felicia threw herself out of bed and began to pace furiously. Peter tried hard not to be too… appreciative. Then he pulled a pillow over his lap while her back was turned.
She wheeled on him. “So this means something?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.” Felicia began gathering up her clothes. She had impressive recall of where they had landed. But then, furry catsuits were hard to misplace. “Now I’m freaking out.”
Thinking it would help, Peter picked up her goggles from the bedpost and offered them to her.
“I suppose I should share something with you then.”
Peter raised an eyebrow. “What do you call last night from the hours of eleven to three?”
“Spider, please. I’ve done that with valets.” She waved her hand. “No, not what I meant. I’ve fucked a lot, no apologies. But I’ve never felt about them the way I do about you. Really, I’ve never felt this way about anyone.” She hurriedly pulled on her clothes. “So that’s out there…”
“I have,” Peter said. He was still sitting on the bed. “I’ve felt the way I do about you with one person. And she died.”
Felicia straddled a chair opposite the bed. Her face was flat. Whatever she’d expected, it wasn’t this. “You want to leave it there?”
Peter fixed her with a stare, his hands working in front of his mouth like a mortar and pestle. “No. I loved her. White picket fence, 2.5 kids kinda love. But one of my enemies found out who I was and he killed her. And I couldn’t stop her.”
“Have you ever talked to anyone about this?”
“No.” He smiled grimly. “You’re the first.”
“You want to… go to her grave or something?”
Peter spotted his boots. “No. Right now, I’d really like to watch a movie.”
While he was pulling on his right boot, Felicia surprised him with a simple hug. He wouldn’t have expected anything on her part to be so intimate, yet so unsexual. “I have a lot of comedies.”
“Thanks, Felicia.” He held on a moment longer. “You can call me Peter, if you want.”
