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Chapter Text

Matt and Peter sit on a rooftop looking over the city. Peter sighs.

Matt tilts his head in Peter's direction. "What’s with you?"

"Nothing. I just—" Peter sighs again. "Just lonely, I guess." He looks over at Matt with a smile under the mask. "I miss being married."

The corner of Matt’s lips quirk. 

"Me too."

They sit there for a moment in the quiet together. Peter leans back on his hands, feet dangling over the edge of the roof. He looks at the lights and the people walking on the streets below them, so far away they look like ants. It makes him feel even more alone. A wistful smile twists at his mouth. What a pair they make: a couple of lonely, divorced guys hanging out on a rooftop at 3am. Sad. 

“Maybe we should get married,” jokes Peter, looking at Matt. 

Matt doesn’t even crack a smile at his joke. Not that Peter is expecting him to, because it isn’t really that funny. Matt just looks thoughtful. Peter wishes he could see inside Matt’s head; the things he thinks about and obsesses over, what he likes and doesn’t like, how he perceives the world. The guy holds everything so close, even just the little things, that it makes Peter want to peel back the layers to the guy underneath. Peter pictures himself opening Matt’s shell like a nesting doll and Matt getting smaller and smaller until there’s just the Matt inside: a hissing, spitting thing with fangs.

"Maybe…" Matt starts. "We could get married? If you wanted to.

Peter stares at him, mouth open in shock.

What?

"What?"

"I said I’d like to be married to you. If that’s something you want."

Peter tries to get ahold of himself enough to respond. What comes out is a nervous laughter tinged with hysteria.

"I was just kidding, D," Peter answers.

Matt looks a little hurt, and Peter feels guilty. There’s an awkward silence that becomes heavy and uncomfortable. Peter shifts in place, wanting to be anywhere but there.

"Hey uh, I’ll call you, alright?" Peter looks at Matt for a moment, feeling like a giant asshole. He almost says, "I'm sorry."

Then he swings away.

…

Hours later Peter lies in bed, sweating and unable to sleep because the AC is broken. His mattress is old and dips in the middle. Peter stares up at the ceiling thinking about what Matt said. I’d like to be married to you. Dear god, why? Hell, why had Peter even made the joke in the first place? What straight man jokes about marrying his guy friend? He comes to the conclusion that he is an idiot, and that he’s probably wrecked things with Matt. 

Peter keeps thinking about it though. Why not marry Matt? He blows out a breath, then gets up to grab a notebook off his desk, and starts listing pros and cons.

Cons

• Matt is obsessive

• Matt is controlling

• Matt is reckless and self-destructive

• Matt is a liar and a hypocrite

Peter strokes the cap of the pen over his bottom lip. He feels like he can’t really throw stones at Matt for these things, because Peter is also a liar, a hypocrite, and destructive. So these aren’t really dealbreakers for him. He decides to list the positives of having Matt as a husband.

Pros

• Matt cares about everything. Deeply. Probably more than most people care about stuff.

• Matt loves children and animals

• He has money, a nice house, and insurance.

• He’s a fellow vigilante

• He’s a friend

• I feel comfortable with him

• I can tell him just about anything

• He laughs at my jokes

• He makes me laugh

Peter sets down his pen. He runs his hands down his face, glaring at the wall. 

“Fuck it,” he mutters to himself, reaching for his phone. 

…

"Hello?" Matt's voice slurs with sleep. Peter feels bad about waking him, but this is important.

"Hey Matty," starts Peter, then stops, taking a breath and plunging ahead. "I wanna marry you."

There's silence on the other end of the line. For a minute Peter thinks Matt is going to hang up on him, but after a moment he hears:

"Why on earth should I marry you after you laughed at me?" Matt snaps, sounding genuinely angry with Peter. "It was your idea."

Peter winces.

"I'm sorry I laughed at you, I just," Peter runs a hand over his face, feeling so fucking tired all of a sudden, like all the hours he went out instead of slept are hitting him at once. "I freaked out and I'm sorry. I just didn't expect you to actually want to marry me."

Why does Matt want to marry him? wonders Peter. He has plenty of reasons to marry Matt, but he has no idea why Matt wants to marry him. It's not like Peter has much to offer him besides companionship. Maybe the guy is just that lonely.

Matt goes quiet. Like really quiet. So quiet Peter almost thinks he hung up.

"Hello?"

He hears Matt sigh.

"I just get so tired of keeping secrets sometimes, and worrying about partners being targets. It would be nice having someone who can watch my back."

Peter wants to let it go, but if he's going to be marrying Matt, he needs full disclosure. Even if it's awkward and painful.

"But there’s more to it, isn't there?"

Matt goes quiet again. When he speaks, it's so quiet and hushed, like he's afraid someone besides Peter is listening in.

"I haven't really dated since I broke up with Kirsten, and…everything is so bleak. I go out every night to help people, but there's no one waiting for me at home. Every day I wake up and I'm alone, and I just…I need someone."

"Well, you have me. If you want me."

He hears Matt sigh over the phone again, but this time it sounds more like relief than anger.

"Thanks, Peter."

Peter smiles crookedly, relieved Matt’s not too mad at him. To the point of not speaking, anyway. He likes the sound of Matt’s voice when he's at home and not on the streets. It's softer than his Daredevil voice. Less bark and venom. It's the Matt with kind eyes and a barely there smile Peter hardly ever sees, hidden in stress lines and a frowning mouth.

A Matt he'd like to get to know a lot better.

"No problem, buddy. I'll call you later so we can hash out the living situation and stuff, alright?"

Matt yawns.

"That's fine."

Peter smiles again. He imagines what it's going to be like seeing Matt yawn in person before bed and after waking up. How domestic that'll be. He finds himself looking forward to it.

"Goodnight, Matty." It comes out almost as a whisper.

"Goodnight, Peter," answers Matt, just as hushed.

Peter goes to lie in bed again, still hot and uncomfortable, but this time looking forward to the next day.

Chapter Text

The next day Peter goes to work on autopilot, feeling like literally none of it matters. He wishes he could fast forward to 7 o’clock, so he can clock out and go home.

And call Matt.

Peter’s been trying to figure out what to say to Matt about it. He still has a month left of his lease, and he has no idea what their living situation is going to look like. Where he’s going to store his things, where he’s going to sleep, what ground rules they need to set. It’s making him antsy thinking about it. By the time seven rolls around, he’s drank two redbulls and is very much ready to climb the walls.

Peter clocks out and immediately runs somewhere to change into his costume. He climbs an alleyway wall giddy to be free from retail hell. When he gets to the roof, he shoots a web to a neighboring building, leaping off with a whoop. There’s nothing to take the edge off quite like swinging through the air at breakneck speed. He stops on another rooftop and pulls his phone out, texting Matt, do you wanna get chinese?

Matt is typing…

matt: sure

peter: meet me at wong’s

matt: okay

Wong’s is slow when he gets there a few minutes later. It’s an old place with cracked seats, peeling wallpaper and faded menu pictures on the walls. But the food is always good, and there are plants around a bubbling fountain and soothing music playing. Peter sits in their usual booth and orders their food (a large eggdrop soup, crab rangoons, and a plate of Kung Pao for Peter, and a large wonton soup and a plate of coconut curry for Matt).

Peter sits in the booth waiting for Matt, sipping at his soup and nibbling on the rangoons.

Matt walks through the door a few minutes later and Peter’s eyes are immediately drawn to him. He can see the workers also staring at him. Being a six foot guy built like a brick shithouse dressed in a devil costume will do that. Peter looks good, don’t get him wrong, but Matt’s biceps are something.

Matt slides into the booth across from Peter, resting his elbows on the table.

“Is this mine?” he asks, indicating the curry and the wonton soup.

“Yep.”

Peter points to the rangoons. “Want one?”

Matt grabs one and takes a bite with a loud crunch. He lets out a satisfied sigh at the taste of the food. Peter smiles at him. It’s nice seeing him happy for once.

They eat the food in comfortable silence, a jazzy song playing in the background. Peter wipes his face and leans his elbows on the table, preparing himself for the conversation ahead.

“So…” Peter starts. “How do you want to do this? Living together, I mean.”

“Well,” Matt looks hesitant. “I only have the one bedroom, so if you’d be comfortable with it, we could share the bed? If not, we could look at other places that have more rooms.” There’s something about sleeping in separate rooms that bothers peter. Maybe it’s because Matt is going to be his husband, but the idea of just being roommates feels wrong to him. But there is one thing they have to talk about.

“I didn’t want to bring this up, because it’s super awkward, but,” Peter makes a pained face. “What if we have to jerk off?”

Matt spits the water he’s drinking and coughs.

“You alright, D?”

Matt coughs, glaring in his direction.

“You can’t just say stuff like that. We’re in public!”

“You say that like they actually give a shit what we’re saying.”

“Still.” Matt frowns, face red. He looks mad and embarrassed. Peter regrets opening his big mouth. “And don’t worry about…that. We can work something out.” Peter wants to ask how exactly that would work, but he doesn’t want to ruin the evening even more. So he switches topics.

“So…my lease is going up in a month, and I thought maybe I could stay with you to see how we like living together before we get married. And um, maybe I could store some of my stuff at Aunt May’s until we figure out where to put my stuff.” Matt still looks mad, so Peter puts a hand over one of matt’s. “Hey look, I’m sorry, alright? I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

Matt flips his hand over and takes Peter’s into his, gripping it gently. It sends a flutter of something through Peter, though he refuses to examine what that might be.

"It's okay." Matt still hasn't let go of Peter’s hand. "You're so frank about everything, and I'm…not."

"Maybe you need somebody like that. I'll tell you what's what." Peter smirks, shaking Matt's hand in his grip. "You'll never have to guess whether I'm mad or not, because I'll let you know. Loudly."

"Will you tell me if you're happy?" asks Matt, hesitantly.

"I'll try." Peter tries for a joke. "But I'm not as familiar with that, so i may forget. So don't hold it against me, okay?"

He can tell Matt wants to say something about that, but doesn't. Smart man. He'll be a good husband yet.

"Do you…do you really want to marry me?" Matt asks. He looks sad and vulnerable, emotions Peter has rarely seen on him. Peter runs his thumb over Matt's knuckles. "I mean I know you're lonely, but you don't have to settle for this. For me."

"What am I settling for? You're a good man and I know you'll treat me right. You make me laugh. I like being with you." Peter takes Matt’s other hand in his, so he's holding both hands. "I wanna marry you. Do you wanna marry me?"

Matt smiles.

"Yes."

Peter smiles back even though he knows Matt can't see it. But he can probably sense the muscles in Peter's face or something.

"I hope you know you're not getting rid of me now. I'm stuck to you like gorilla glue. You're gonna hear my voice in your dreams."

Matt laughs a little, still smiling. Still holding Peter’s hands.

"I'm okay with that."

"You sure? I'm a lot to handle."

"You're not going to chase me away, you know," Matt says. "If you're in, I'm in. Until you decide otherwise."

"Okay," answers Peter, a soft smile on his face. A wickedness creeps into it. He leans forward. "But don't think I'm putting out on the honeymoon. That's third date business."

Matt laughs.

…

Peter wakes up from a dream he can’t remember that leaves him sweating, cock straining against his pajama pants. He grabs lube out of his desk, shucks off his pants and fists his dick in quick jerks that have him panting. He imagines MJ because it’s easy. The feel of her soft, fragrant hair brushing his face and neck as she kisses him, her smokey laugh, her confident hands running over his body.

“Hey tiger, you gonna be a good boy for me?”

“Yes,” hisses Peter to his empty room. He knows what she’s going to ask, because the real MJ had asked him for it many times. His focus strays and MJ’s hair gets shorter. Her hair changes from auburn to a lighter red, closer to— Peter shakes his head. He imagines her looking back at him with that sexy smirk, the light from the hall backlighting her silhoutte, her curves on display.

“Get yourself ready for me while I get my strap.”

Peter strokes his cock with his left hand while the right strokes over his hole, dipping in shallow thrusts until he’s whimpering for it. He slowly sinks his index finger inside, gasping at the feeling of being filled. It feels so nice. Especially after so long going without. Fantasy MJ returns with the dildo buckled on, standing in the doorway with her hip cocked and an even cockier smirk. Her laugh is a little deeper.

“Well, look at you. Being my perfect little slut.”

Peter’s breathing quickens. It hitches as he adds another finger. He imagines MJ watching him fuck himself like a good slut, like he’s desperate for her cock. Fantasy MJ struts across the room to his bed, climbing over him with her fake cock bobbing, green eyes locked on him in an intense stare.

"You're so good, baby." MJ kisses him with gentle lips, long elegant fingers holding his chin in an equally gentle grip. "You've been waiting so patiently for me. It’s time to give you your reward." Peter imagines holding his knees up and apart while MJ enters him in a slow push, gasping as she bottoms out, her long, thick cock sliding over his prostate. Peter fingers himself harder, closing his eyes as he moans. Hips slap against the flesh of his ass, fucking him open with hard thrusts that make him sob.

He imagines clutching wide shoulders, clawing down a muscular back. MJ's perfume changes from a floral scent to something spicier and darker. Something uniquely—

Matt.

Peter's eyes fly open as he comes with a tortured moan that sounds loud and obscene in his empty room. He comes harder than he has in recent memory to the fantasy of Matt fucking him into the mattress, holding him down and taking him. Cum streaks him from his stomach all the way to his chin. Shame and guilt stain the afterglow. Anxiety rears its head, making his thoughts race and his breaths choke.

What am I going to do? thinks Peter, looking down at his body covered in cum. How am I gonna tell him that I— Peter cuts that thought off, feeling himself unravel. I can't tell him. He'll think I'm…that I'm disgusting. That I tricked him. He gets up and goes to the bathroom to wipe himself down with a washcloth, mind carefully blank. He lies in the shower, arms crossed, closing his eyes against the cool porcelain of the tub. It's his thinking place when problems feel too large to deal with. A nice enclosed space to shut out the world.

Peter turns the handle until warm water rains from the shower head. He pours some body wash in his hand and washes himself lazily, enjoying the warm water and steam blanketing him. A sigh escapes him. He stares at the wall.

You're a fucking idiot, Peter thinks. Certified, grade A.

A part of him wants to call Matt right now and call the whole thing off. That would be the sensible thing to do. End things before they both get hurt. But the thought of hurting Matt again feels worse. And selfishly, he doesn't want this to end. He wants to wake up in Matt's bed, wants to see his face relaxed in sleep, wants to see his curls before they're combed and gelled flat. Wants his warmth next to him.

Maybe he's a bad person. Maybe he's dragging Matt into something Matt didn't agree to. But even if Matt doesn't need him in the same way, Peter still wants whatever Matt can give. It's pathetic, and desperate, but it's what Peter wants more than anything in the world.

He stays in the shower until it grows cold.

Chapter Text

For two weeks Peter tries to put his feelings for Matt out of his mind. He visits Harry and they see a dumb movie that makes them laugh. He walks around Coney Island with Johnny and the two of them try their best to win a giant bear. Johnny wins a giant brown bear with a heart between its paws (‘cause Valentine’s Day is coming soon, go figure). He makes Peter carry it around the whole time. 

"Why do I have to carry it? It’s your bear."

Johnny looks smug.

"Because you lost. Now less talking, more walking."

Peter rolls his eyes.

When Peter runs out of things to do, he finds himself alone in his room, thoughts too loud. He grabs his notebook out of his desk and begins to write. 

list of things to do:

• ask aunt may if i can store things at her house

• buy groceries

• pay rent

• talk to matt

Peter rubs his hands over his face. Fuck. He’s going to be living with Matt soon. There’s no way he can hide his attraction from the guy who can sense everything. Peter imagines Matt finding out after they’re married and the disgusted look on his face as he demands a divorce. That would be Peter’s second divorce. The thought of it depresses him. 

He stares at the weird seventies texture of his wall. It’s lumpy and painted beige and almost the same popcorn texture of his ceiling. He hates it. In another three weeks he’ll never see it again. He’ll be in Matt’s house. The thought scares him more than anything. 

Peter imagines waking up to Matt’s peaceful face every morning, hair tangled, cheek pillow creased, soft breaths fanning from his slightly open mouth, and never being able to touch him. It sounds like perfect agony.

Peter tries to sleep. His dreams feel weird and frantic. When he wakes the next morning he has a vague memory of  running somewhere, but never reaching the destination.

He goes to work and does the bare minimum, practically sleepwalking through his shift. His manager tells him to stock the shelves and straighten things and it all feels so very pointless.

Later Peter goes out as Spider-Man to find some criminals to take his frustration out on, and finds a guy dressed as a bug stealing parts to build some kind of ray to turn other people into bugs. He didn’t really listen to the details. Another guy holds up a mom and pop store. That one Peter takes personally; because why couldn't the guy just rob a Target like a normal person. He gives the guy a stern talking to (threatens to eat him), then around 2am he gets a call from Matt.

Peter looks at his screen, biting his lip. He thinks about acting like he didn’t see it. He answers anyway.

"Hey, Matty. What's up?"

Peter hears wind blowing in the background. Matt must be out, too. He thinks about asking Matt to meet up. But before he can say anything, Matt starts talking.

"I've been thinking, um," Peter stills. "Maybe you could move in with me a week early? You're always saying how much you hate your apartment."

"I'd love to, but I still have to pay the last month’s rent." And give his notice, and cancel his utilities and probably a few other things he's forgotten about.

"I could pay it," Matt says, voice quiet.

Peter is stunned into silence for a moment.

"You'd do that?"

"Of course."

"Okay, um. Okay. I'll ask Aunt May if I can store some things at her place and then figure out where I'll put the rest at your place." The whole thing feels surreal. He's actually moving in with Matt and they're actually getting married. Which brings him to…

"We have to tell Aunt May."

"Right now?"

"I don't want her to find out the day we're getting married!"

Matt is quiet for a minute. Peter imagines him pacing a rooftop somewhere, thinking about all the things that can go wrong.

"We can go have dinner with her and break the news. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to have you as her son-in-law."

"How do you know that? She might decide she hates me."

"Matty, you've been Facebook friends with her for ten years. She shares her recipes with you." The only person Aunt May shares recipes with is Aunt Anna, and that's because they were sort of dating. Peter's sure May would've probably adopted him if she could've. "It's gonna be okay." Peter imagines Matt is probably going to speedrun through all his stress relievers tonight, and that his fridge is probably going to be filled with whatever dishes Matt is able to pull together from what's in his kitchen.

…

Peter slowly moves some of his stuff over to Matt's over the next week. It's mostly his clothes and other random stuff. The furniture goes to Aunt May’s house and Peter misses his desk. He takes a notebook with him in a travel bag along with a toothbrush, toothpaste, a comb, chargers, and his laptop. Before he goes into Matt's brownstone, he decides to smoke a cigarette to relax, sitting on the steps watching people walk by. They ignore him. Peter puts out the cigarette and tosses it in a trash can.

He walks down the hall until he gets to Matt's place. It's an unassuming brown door with gold letters displaying Matt's address number. Peter wonders what modifications have been made to the place. He knocks on the door, figuring Matt will hear it.

A few minutes later the door opens, revealing Matt wearing a robe (and not much else, Peter's brain helpfully supplies). Matt smiles at him, but it turns to a frown when he sniffs him.

"Shower. You are not sitting on my furniture smelling like that." Peter feels annoyance rise in him at Matt's tone, but the command in it also does things to him. He tries not to think about it. He fails.

"Fine."

Peter rolls his eyes and trudges up the stairs, dropping his bag off in Matt’s room (their room, he corrects), then heads to the bathroom. He closes the door, thinking about how pointless it is considering Matt can sense what Peter "looks" like naked.

The thought sends a shiver through him. He bites his lip. He tries to clean himself as clinically as possible, but the thought of Matt sensing him or listening in makes him hot. Peter runs his hands over his body, imagining they're Matt’s. Peter pours a bit of conditioner on his fingertips and pinches his nipples, whimpering at the feeling. His cock throbs. He turns away from the spray to squirt some conditioner in his hand and reaches down to stroke his cock, sighing at the feeling.

"You're so dirty," he imagines Matt whispering. "Jerking off where I can hear you." Peter imagines Matt listening to the slick sound of his hand on his cock, face red, biting his lip, sitting with his robe open on the sofa jerking off to Peter. He wants to leave a trail of biting kisses down Matt's neck, chest, abs, until he gets to his cock, sucking it down his throat. He imagines Matt gripping his hair, holding Peter there with his nose in his pubic hair, throat so full it makes his head dizzy with it. Matt's own personal fleshlight. Peter groans, hand speeding up.

Peter imagines Matt fucking his throat, and he comes, moaning. Come splatters the wall and the water washes it away. Peter pants. Then sighs. The tension of the past few days washes away. He finishes washing up and turns the water off, reaching for a towel to dry off with.

A few minutes later Peter realizes he forgot to bring clothes into the bathroom and curses. He wraps a towel around his waist and walks to the bedroom, opening up one of the drawers of Matt’s dresser he'd shoved his clothes in, pulling out a pair of boxer briefs, shorts, and a t-shirt.

The house is so quiet he hears his feet slap against the floor as he walks down the hall to the staircase, tempted to just crawl along the wall and the ceiling instead. Matt might be annoyed about his footprints being everywhere though, and he doesn't really want to get into an argument about it.

He half-jogs down the stairs to the living room, where he finds Matt sitting on the sofa, earphones in his ears. His ears and the back of his neck are very red. A flush of embarrassment and heat flows through him. So Matt had heard him. He thinks about letting Matt be, but they're going to be living together, so it's not like they can just completely avoid the topic altogether.

Peter opts to sit on the sofa across from Matt and play on his phone. Matt's face is red red, and Peter feels like an asshole. The room is dead quiet for at least ten minutes, but it feels like an eternity.

Matt coughs. He still looks mortified.

"So…" Matt begins. Pauses. He looks even more embarrassed. "We might need…to come up with a schedule for…you know."

"Jerking off?"

Matt looks pained.

"Yes…that."

Peter thinks to himself that Matt is acting very prim and proper, even though he knows for a fact Matt can be vulgar. He's heard Matt curse a blue streak and laugh at dirty jokes.

He wonders what Matt is like when he lets go. When he lets himself be wild and out of control. An image of them fucking on a rooftop somewhere half out of their suits, mouths smearing together, Matt’s legs wrapped around him as he fucks him against a wall inserts itself into his mind and Peter imagines his rogues naked to will his arousal away.

"Is this a literal schedule that’s gonna be posted on the wall?" Peter imagines it posted on the fridge like a chore list and almost laughs, even though nothing about it is funny. He wishes they were like a regular married couple and could just beat off when the mood strikes them. Or get each other off.

Matt gets a dodgy look on his face because he absolutely was planning on making a literal schedule, and is afraid Peter’s going to think he's a huge freak for it.

"…no."

Affection fills Peter despite everything. Matt is kind of a freak, but Peter loves that about him. He'll memorize Matt's schedules for a lifetime if it means he gets to share his life with him. Peter sighs.

"Show me the schedule."

Matt looks surprised at Peter's willingness to go along with it, but he also looks less like he wants to throw himself out the window, so Peter counts it as a win. He gets up to grab his laptop off the desk by the window with its braille keyboard and comes to sit next to Peter, awkwardness temporarily put aside for the task at hand. Matt starts chattering about his work schedule (it's nine to five, Monday through Friday), inquiring about Peter's schedule, which is a lot less predictable because it’s retail and week to week. He opens a spreadsheet and inputs their shifts with the dates and times, and also includes their vigilante time, which is usually late at night into the early hours. Peter would marvel at Matt's efficiency if it wasn't for the reason they were doing this. He looks at the schedule and memorizes it.

"Got it," Peter says, immediately pulling out his phone to read Wikipedia articles or play solitaire or something. Anything to make himself tired enough to eventually fall asleep. Matt looks skeptical.

"You got it? You barely even looked at it."

"I have a photographic memory." Peter taps his temple. "I can memorize anything if I want to." If he cares enough to, that is. Matt crosses his arms.

"Recite it back to me then." Peter recites the whole thing back perfectly and Matt looks impressed.

"I'll have to let you look at my recipes," mutters Matt. "And my bank statements."

"I am good at math," agrees Peter.

…

They end up settling in with an audiobook until bed, because neither of them really wants to go out crime fighting their first day together and because it’s the fastest way to put Matt to sleep. Peter tries to tune in, but his mind whirs with thoughts about work and a song that got stuck in his head he's been able to replace or get rid of entirely. He watches some videos on YouTube with the sound turned down with subtitles on so he won't disturb Matt.

He glances over to see Matt passed out, audiobook still playing. Peter reaches over to stop it and plug Matt's phone into the charger on the nightstand. Matt's mouth hangs open a bit in sleep, and Peter listens to his quiet breathing. His face is smoothed out in sleep and some of his curls have come ungelled from where Matt combed them back. Fondness wells up in Peter's chest at the sight, and he dares to place a barely there kiss on Matt's cheek.