#alt 14

“You know, when you asked me to help you clean your room, I didn’t think I would be the only one cleaning.” You tossed an old Black Sabbath t-shirt at Eddie who was sitting on his bed flipping through a magazine.

Your complaint went unheard as Eddie grabbed another magazine and skimmed the pages, “I completely forgot that had some of this stuff,” he picked up a dusty Judas Priest cassette tape, “oh my god! I’ve been looking for this!”

“Well, maybe if you cleaned your room from time to time, you wouldn’t lose your precious tapes. Now, can you please get your ass up and help?”

“Fine,” Eddie dramatically rolled off his bed, “we’re doing this for twenty minutes and then taking a break.”

“Alight.”

Eddie began working on his closet, going through a mountain of clothes that had built up over the past month or so. You had found it earlier and refused to touch it even though he assured you it was all clean clothes. You had been working on his dresser, going through each drawer and organizing, folding, throwing away random pieces of trash you would come across. You’d finally made it to the top of the dresser; the entire thing was covered with various knickknacks and of course trash.

As you threw an empty soda can into the trash bag, a small wooden box caught your eye. You’d never seen it before, though that didn’t surprise you since you were pretty sure you’d never seen the surface of Eddie’s dresser in the decade that you’d known him.

Curiosity got the better of you; you put the trash bag down and opened the box. Inside were some pictures, some of the two of you, one of him and his mom which brought a sad smile to your face. There were some old rings of his that probably didn’t fit anymore, a couple of old concert tickets, and something else. You picked up the mystery item, staring at it for a minute. It was nothing special, just a piece of string with some plastic beads, but it looked familiar. A memory from elementary school rushed into your head. It was a necklace; you made it for Eddie for his birthday back in second grade, his first birthday after the two of you had become friends. You could recall how much he’d liked it; he wore it for almost a month straight until your teacher, Ms. Marllon, had threatened to take it since Eddie kept playing with it instead of doing his classwork. After that, you never really saw it again, and you had always figured he had lost it or down the road had thrown it away.

“You kept this?” Your words were soft, if Eddie hadn’t been right by you, he wouldn’t have heard you.

“What?” he looked at the necklace in your hand, a nervous and embarrassed laugh fell from his lips once he realized what you were holding, “Oh, yeah, I-I did.”

“I can’t believe you kept it all this time.” Your smile was mostly teasing, but there was a hint of fondness to it as well.

He shrugged, “Yeah, well, it means a lot to me.”

A light chuckle escaped through your nose, “A piece of string with a few plastic beads on it means a lot to you?”

He cast his eyes down, pulling at a loose thread on his shirt, “I know, it’s stupid.”

You regretted your words the second you looked over and saw the slightly hurt expression on Eddie’s face, “I’m sorry, you have every right to keep whatever you want, no matter how silly it may seem to me.”

“It’s just…” Eddie took the necklace from you and sat down on the edge of his bed, running his fingers absent mindedly along the beads, “as you know, I was never Mr. Popular. I didn’t really have any friends before you…this was the first gift I ever got from a friend,” you sat down next to him, placing a comforting hand to his shoulder, “and yeah, in hindsight, this isn’t the most impressive gift in the world—”

“Hey!” You said with mock offense.

He rolled his eyes and continued, “But it meant a lot to me then, still does actually.”

You felt your chest tighten and the sting of tears in your eyes, but you pushed through it, choosing to cover up the feelings with a joke, “You know, I could make you a matching bracelet for your birthday this year, or maybe a ring set.”

“Nah, with such expensive, couture jewelry, I wouldn’t be able to walk around town without getting robbed blind.”

You grabbed one of the pillows on his bed and hit him with it playfully, “You’re such a goof.”

“Yeah, but that’s what you like most about me.” He smiled and wrapped his arm around you.

You leaned against his shoulder and smiled too, “Yeah, it is.”

“Can you grab my phone? I think I left it on my dresser.” You ask Baby when he walks in from the kitchen in your apartment. You are sprawled on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, and far too comfortable to get up and retrieve it yourself.

“Sure thing, you lazy gremlin.” He chuckles and heads into your bedroom. Baby doesn’t immediately return. After a long moment, you shift on the couch to get a better look back towards the doorway.

“Baby?” You call out. “Did you find it?” You wait for another beat before speaking again. “Is everything alright?” When he doesn’t respond to any of it, you get up to go check on him. “Baby?”

You have no idea what to expect when you walk into your bedroom, but you never would have guessed this. Baby is sitting on the end of your bed cradling something small in his hands. He’s staring down at it, gaze distant like he is lost in thought. You carefully walk over to see what it is.

“You kept this?” His voice is soft and disbelieving. He holds up the little trinket. It’s just a cheap plastic bear charm, but the memories it holds are much more valuable.

“Yeah?” You sit next to him and carefully take the bear. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s ugly. And it’s just some cheap vending machine toy.” The words are meant to be harsh and joking, but they come out surprisingly tender. He knows the real reason you kept it, but maybe he just needs to hear you say it out loud to be sure.

“I’ve always thought it was kinda cute.” You counter in a lighter tone. “Besides, it’s the first gift you ever gave me, so of course I kept it.”

Baby looks you in the eyes, hesitating and still acting oddly vulnerable. “But I gave it to you as a joke.”

“Well, I guess the joke was on you, because I actually really liked it.” You stand up to put the little charm back in its place on your dresser. “And I knew you were only giving it to me to be mean because you were too scared to admit how you really felt.” You throw the words out almost like a taunt and Baby’s reaction is immediate.

“Hey now, that’s not true.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “I was not scared. I’ve always known how much I care about you, and I’ve never been afraid to admit it. I just didn’t think you felt the same way.”

“Aw,” You draw the teasing sound out. “It sounds like you were scared.”

You expect him to whine and playfully argue back, but instead, he stands up and grabs one of your hands. Baby spins you around and reaches up to caress your cheek with his free hand. “I’ve only ever been afraid of losing you.” He shifts forward to rest your foreheads together.

“Don’t ever be afraid of that, Baby.” You murmur in response. “That little bear also reminds me of what you told me later that night, when you confessed despite being nervous.”

He smirks while his thumb slips to rest on your bottom lip. “And I remember what you said in response. You said that I was stuck with you and the bear now because I could never get rid of either of you.”

“That’s right.” You smile and cup your hand against his on your face. “That cheap little toy turned into a promise. And I intend to keep that promise as long as you’ll have me.”

“Stop being so cheesy and poetic. That’s my job.” Baby pretends to pout.

You shift to press your lips to his, kissing him soundly. “How about you come cuddle me and I’ll let you practice?” With a smirk, you lead Baby by the hand back into the living room.

He settles on the couch first before tugging you into his lap. After some slight shifting to get more comfortable, Baby pulls a blanket around you both. He starts murmuring sweet nothings into the skin at your neck. You relax in his embrace, phone completely forgotten somewhere in your bedroom.

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He watched as Sherlock reached out and ran his thumb over the first article, slowly, carefully, as if he was afraid the paper would turn to dust at his touch.

“A study in pink,” he murmured, and John hummed.

The article wasn’t long. With the serial killer dead, the papers hadn’t been too interested in the case, and Sherlock hadn’t even been mentioned. There was a small picture of Lestrade at a press conference, nothing else. But still, John had kept the article. It had been their first case.

Sure, he had his blog entries, but having the actual article, printed out, made it just that bit more real.

Sherlock moved on to the next article John had kept, the first one in which they’d both been mentioned in, as colleagues/partners/whatever. Then the first one with a picture of them both, and the first one someone had questioned the nature of their relationship in.

Sherlock picked up a picture of them standing in front of 221 Baker Street, shoulders pressed together, both smiling into the camera.

John leaned into Sherlock to frown down at the picture. He’d looked at it a thousand times, before and after the shift in their relationship. Before, he’d admired how well they looked together on that photo, and after their shift, he’d spent probably hours staring at that particular photo, wondering about that… something. That something between them, something he couldn’t name. Some sort of tension. Two magnets pulling at each other but for some reason not connecting, or a string pulled too tight.

Looking at it now, he still didn’t know how to describe it. Although, he probably saw why people had made suggestions all the time. Not that they had stopped, but now it was different.

“When I think back at how we were, then…” John mused out loud when Sherlock didn’t say anything, gazing down at the picture.

“I mean, we’re still the same, obviously, and yet…”

Sherlock hummed affirmatively, not quite lifting his gaze.

“I was…” Sherlock said, then paused, looking as if he was searching for the right words. “I was inflexible, in a way. I had my view on the world, and nothing could change that or the way I moved in this particular world I had created.”

He looked at John, though his gaze seemed distant, far away. “I wasn’t a nice man. I’m still not, never will, and don’t even want to be.”

His gaze sharpened and he focused on John. “However, I find myself wanting to be a good man for you, John.”

He paused again. “I was startled, when I realised. I didn’t want it to be true. It was… difficult for me, to accept what you meant to me. Mean to me. And then, when I finally made peace with this idea of what you were to me, you still seemed… so distant. I can’t describe it.”

John nodded, placing a hand on Sherlock’s thigh. “I think distant describes it well enough. Closed off. Suppressed. I– ugh.”

John sighed, now understanding Sherlock’s trouble to find words. “I knew quite early that you were the best thing that could ever happen to me. I knew my place was by your side. And yet, I didn’t let myself think about it. I didn’t even actively deny anything, I don’t think. It was all just… unconsciously, I suppose.”

John smiled, looking up at Sherlock to find those sharp eyes returning his gaze.

“Until you literally danced right up to me and pulled me in. You– You made me feel, Sherlock. So much, all at once. I felt hot and cold with desire and fear, I felt like I’d loved you for years and as if I’d just fallen for you. I felt as if I’d never loved before. I was terrified and exhilarated, I wanted to laugh and to cry.”

Sherlock’s eyes were wide, comically wide even, and John felt only more fondness well up at the sight.

“And then you kissed me. Or did I kiss you?” He laughed. It wasn’t important who’d been the first. It was probably the both of them. “And it was all just…”

“Quiet,” Sherlock breathed. “Perfect.”

John smiled, taking Sherlock’s hand and squeezing it gently. “Yes. Yes, it was. And it still is. I am, the happiest man alive, Sherlock.”

Sherlock gave him a look, and John chuckled and placed a finger over his lips. “Yes I am. You can’t imagine how happy I am. I just…” He trailed off, shrugging helplessly.

“What if I can?” Sherlock asked softly. “What if I can imagine how it is to feel like the happiest person alive?”

John smiled, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat.

“It’s just how it is. The both of us, together. If there are such things as parallel universes, we’d be a constant. Our relationship, in whatever way. We’d find each other in every universe.”

“Now you’re just being romantic,” Sherlock accused, and John only shrugged again.

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. What I wanted to say with this; I am just so glad that we met. That you saw who I was, that you let me into your live.”

“And I am grateful for the fact that you came. That day, to look at the flat with The Madman. That you came to that first case, and to almost all that followed. I’m glad you stayed.”

John grinned.

“Romantic,” he murmured, then captured Sherlock’s lips in a tender kiss.

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“Oh my god, you kept this?” Peter asked from the other side of your room. You glanced up from your phone to see him holding a pair of tattered movie tickets. He had a lopsided grin on his face as he looked at you.

Watching him from your seat on the bed, you felt your cheeks begin to heat. Shrugging, your eyes darted toward the other side of the room. “Yeah, of course. Don’t you remember that day?”

He let out a laugh, one that rose and fell to the memories flooding the two of you. “How could I forget? It was like, the greatest day of my 12-year-old life,” he said, throwing his arms out wide.

A sort of giddiness spread through your chest as you laughed along and nodded. Because it was true. You didn’t get days like that one anymore, ones where you and Peter stood side by side ready to take on the world. 

He’d ridden his bike over to your house at 7 am, the summer sun just peaking up over the neighborhood. He tossed pebbles at your window to wake you up like some teenager sneaking around. But your family already knew he was coming over, and so, after you kindly told him to get out of your room for waking you up so early, he sat with your parents at the kitchen table while they had breakfast and coffee before work.

“Uh, no — that is not what happened,” Peter cut you off as you recounted the memory. He now leaned against your desk, arms crossed and head shaking. “You screamed in terror when you opened the curtains. Then you yelled at me through the glass for waking you up.”

While he laughed, you rolled your eyes. “Well maybe you shouldn’t have woken me up so early, Parker.”

“If I hadn’t gotten you up so early, our best day ever would have only been our ‘pretty good day.’”

You pursed your lips, but you remembered that your grumpy morning mood had quickly worn off when Peter said he’d pay for your breakfast at the diner a few blocks over. And you had taken full advantage — ordering a full breakfast, several sides, and a heaping milkshake full of different toppings. Peter had grumbled about you making him broke, but the complaining quieted when he feasted on all the food and milkshakes you both ordered.

Then, with full bellies, you’d ridden your bikes to the public pool. Weaving past pedestrians, you two raced on the way there. You couldn’t remember who had won, but you silently assumed it was you. The pool itself had been crowded, but under the bright sun, it was still perfect.

But now, a sudden laugh broke from your mouth at another resurfacing memory. Between giggles, you tried telling Peter. “Do you remember…” a long breath as you wiped your tearing eyes, “Do you remember how sunburnt you got? ‘I’m fine, I don’t need sunscreen!” you mocked, repeating Peter’s words from all those years ago.

Peter hung his head. “It turned into a nice tan…”

“Yeah, after three days of looking like a lobster.”

“Hey, well at least I didn’t lose four times in a row at air hockey,” he said back, eyebrows raised. You’d gone to the movie theater by his place after swimming but had quickly gotten distracted by the arcade they had. 

You’d never lost at air hockey so many times — you reasoned that  the universe must’ve felt bad for Peter and his sunburn. After, you’d changed to pacman or pinball or something you could win at more. You played for hours, until the both of you had wasted enough money on games, especially the crane machine.

“Wait, no way, is that the little dinosaur from the game?” Peter cut in, pointing to the worn little stegosaurus sitting on your bed. 

A soft grin spread across your face. “Yep, my little Lightning.” You reached out toward it, rubbing a thumb along her soft fur.

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed as he glanced between the stuffed animal and the movie tickets in his hand still. “Don’t tell me you named this dinosaur after Cars 2…” he said, holding up the tickets that were indeed for Cars 2 that day.

“It was a good movie! And I had to commemorate the great day we had somehow,” you defended.

“Were the movie tickets not enough? And of the two movies we saw that day, you really kept the Cars 2 tickets?”

You laughed, your cheeks beginning to hurt. You couldn’t remember the last you smiled this much, but Peter always found a way to do that. You asked, “Well don’t you remember why we didn’t have tickets for the other one?”

Peter looked down as he thought, gaze trained on the tickets, before his eyes lit up. His hand came up to cover his mouth, but it didn’t cover the shocked expression. “Oh my god, I forgot.”

But you hadn’t, not with how nervous you’d been when Peter convinced you to sneak into the next-door showing without paying for new tickets. Sure, the movie theater employees didn’t get paid enough to care, but you’d gone into The Hangover Part 2 — a movie the two of you were not allowed to see. You’d both tried hiding your faces when other people filed into the theater, and also when you got embarrassed by too many sex jokes in a row.

And yet, the best part of the day wasn’t until you went back to Peter’s house. You’d laughed and ate alongside May and Ben. The four of you played Yahtzee and Scrabble until the long summer day began to darken. May set out enough sheets and blankets and pillows for the huge fort you and Peter would build, then she and Ben bid you both good night.

You two borrowed couch cushions, dining chairs, even brooms and mops to bring the fort to life. Halfway lying in your sleeping bags, you and Peter played UNO and talked about your summers. When you’d waited longer than normal for Peter to take his turn, you looked up to see his head resting on his arm, his eyes closed and cards pressed against his face. 

It’d been weeks, maybe months if you weren’t lying to yourself, that a quiet crush had been building beneath your skin. Seeing Peter asleep, his face so peaceful and calm in its boyish way, only made those thoughts grow louder. 

But you didn’t recount that part of the memory to Peter now, not when that crush had only become bigger since then. The timing never seemed right with him — with Uncle Ben passing, Peter becoming Spider-Man, his various girlfriends over the years, then both of you going off to college.

“You know, I think about that day a lot,” Peter said softly, breaking you from your thoughts. When you glanced at him, his eyes were already on you. The deep brown of them made you unable to look away — just as they always had.

You felt your face grow hotter. “Yeah? Me too.” 

And it was true. After that summer, it became harder getting time with Peter and making room for one another. Life happened.

“Yeah.” He nodded, his teeth chewing on the inside of his mouth. “I… uh.” He let out a long sigh, his fingers rubbing across the stubble of his cheeks. Your stomach dropped, feeling heavy and churning as you just sat there.

“I wasn’t actually asleep the whole time — when we were playing UNO.”

Oh. That was it? Your head tilted to the side, your face scrunching as you thought. Why would Peter be so nervous? And why tell you now? It wasn’t lik-

“Oh my god.” The memory punched the air from your lungs. You immediately covered your face with your hands, shaking your head. “Nope, nope, no. Peter, I can’t.”

Your entire body heated, your palms already beginning to sweat. When Peter was asleep, and you couldn’t stop staring at him in that stupid fort, you told him you loved him. Because of course you did. There’d always been some sort of family friendly “I love yous” here and there, but you wanted to see how it felt on your lips to whisper those words to him. 

You didn’t even hear Peter cross the room. You only felt his hands grab yours to pull them away from your face. “I’m so sorry,” you rambled out. “I probably ruined our friendship and made things weird and-”

“Hey, no, I didn’t want to make things weird. And we were so young, I was just some stupid boy who didn’t know how to talk about feelings. And… well, life happened. Time got away from us. But really,” Peter said, forcing you to hear his words, “I think about that day because I regret not doing something — not at 12 years old, but later. Like… now.”

You swore your heart stopped beating, or maybe the world stopped moving. You didn’t even want to breathe. This was so much more nerve-wracking than sneaking into The Hangover Part 2.

“Like, now, now? Like-”

“Yes,” Peter breathed. “I love you too, and I’ve been too much of an idiot to do anything.”

You grinned, then didn’t, then did again as your thoughts caught up with you. “Well I confessed while I thought you were asleep, so I’m no genius either here.” 

You and Peter both exhaled soft laughs, and as he stood crouched in front of you, just inches away and pupils blown wide, you realized you couldn’t take it anymore.

You leaned forward, pressing your lips to Peter’s. He felt warm and soft and all-consuming, somehow smothering and soothing your senses at the same time. But you quickly smiled so hard that you broke from the kiss.

“I’m going to take you on the best date of your life,” Peter promised, his expression disbelieving. It probably matched yours, something euphoric and shameful at how stupid you’d been. “I’ll give you a new best day ever.”