destiny-islanders:

icyykey:

Spider-Boy Versus the Dreaded Feelings pt1

for @destiny-islanders​ whose most recent spidey au doodle finally made me crack and write for it. it’s my favorite ffxv au of all of yours and everything new i see from it makes me combust!! it’s so good!! please enjoy this ❤

this’ll also be up shortly on my ao3 here, and the rest is coming soon!

warnings: some blood and violence, but it’s not a lot

Fuck knows how it happened, but Prompto is a superhero now.

There was… an event, he guesses he can call it. Some dumb field trip he didn’t pay a whole lot of attention to (science was never his subject), an accidental spider bite, and now suddenly he can climb around walls and even lift a car with ease. It’s pretty wild.

Obviously, the next step is going out and kicking ass in style. What else is he supposed to do?

It’s the whole deal, too. Powers, superhero name, costume. So maybe the costume is less a costume and more a tracksuit. It’s whatever. It gets the job done.

At least until Ignis gets ahold of it. Honestly, Prompto might be tough, but his costume just can’t keep up. Man, the number of stitches he’s put into that jacket… so, he braves Ignis’s scoldings and warnings the whole time the man is pulling strings (figuratively and literally) to make him a newer, more durable suit. It’s the least he can do in thanks.

And it’s amazing. When he tries it on for the first time, Prompto feels like he’s finally found his place, his second calling behind photography. He’s a real superhero. Even Ignis and Gladio look pretty satisfied with the suit.

“Much safer, and a bit more anonymous.”

“Hell of an improvement ain’t it, Spider-Boy?”

“Man,” grumbles Prompto, but he can’t keep the grin off his face.

Later, though, as he’s putting away his costume, he holds the original in his hands. He was about to shove it deep into his closet without another thought, but his poorly-done stitching caught his eye and now he’s thumbing them absentmindedly. These things tell a hell of a story.

Slipping off rooftops.

Barely avoiding dudes with pocket knives in alleys.

Rescuing his (crush) best friend from near-certain death.

Prompto blinks back the memories. Good times. But as he tucks away the old, tattered clothing, he turns to the suit Ignis made and grins. Time for some new memories to be made. He’s got some ass-kicking to do.

~~~

He hides it from Noctis for over a year.

It’s hard. It’s really, really hard. He keeps slipping up, getting angry when Gladio or someone messes up his name (“It’s Spider-Man!”) or accidentally showing the bruises he gets in the nighttime (“I uh, I ran into my door. You know how much of a klutz I am, haah…”).

Plus, Noct idolizes Spider-Man. He wants to tell Noctis so bad. Hey! I’m the one you think is strong and brave and amazing! Everything Spider-Man is, I am too!

But that’s dangerous. Noctis is enough of a target, what with his dad being the big shot that he is. Feels like Prompto has to save Noctis from crazies wanting ransoms or some twisted kind of revenge nearly every week. Not to mention the stupidly high amount of run-of-the-mill trouble the guy gets into: muggings, stalkings, other shit too. Keeping Noctis alive is a full-time job. Prompto needs a raise.

Which isn’t exactly what’s happening, per se, but he thinks things are going in a good direction. By which he means that he (well, Spidey anyway) and Noct are actively flirting. Which is really, really awesome.

“So… here we are again.”

“Here we are.”

“This is what, fourteen? Fifteen times you’ve saved me? Aren’t there any other people in Insomnia in need of a hero?”

“No one seems to need me more than you, considering how often you get into trouble. And I’m happy to assist you whenever you need me.”

“Guess I owe you big-time, yeah? The debt only keeps getting bigger. Don’t suppose you’re up to getting coffee? My treat?”

“Ahh… as much as I really, really want to, I don’t wanna risk drawing more attention to you. Not that I need any payment besides; helping a charming young man such as yourself is reward enough.”

“Fair enough. See you in a few nights, yeah?”

“Don’t actively get into trouble, dummy!”

Like he said, awesome. Mostly.

Now is not one of those instances.

Prompto stands unsteadily, hugging his hunched form. Everything hurts. Blood pours down his arm from long knife slashes, and he feels bruised to all hell. Plus he took a hit to the nose as well, and he’s pretty sure it’s bleeding. Fuck.

Noctis got himself into one hell of a jam this time.

Said boy is still behind Prompto, apparently shocked into silence. The air is different than normal. There’s no flirty tone here. It’s like the enormity of what happened— what nearly did happen— is settling heavily into their minds. This was way too close.

“Don’t… fool around out here again,” Prompto says through gritted teeth. He’s had fun being Noctis’s knight in shining armor, but this went way too far.

“Shit…” is the whispered response he receives. Prompto doesn’t turn to look. His eyes are on the unconscious man at his feet.

Too close. Too close. It runs like a mantra through his brain. The words are accompanied by flashes of images: Noctis backed against the alley wall, a knife at his throat— a hulking, terrifying man whispering curses and threats into Noctis’s ear— the knife slashing again and again into Prompto’s skin as he struggles to fend off the man while also keeping Noctis out of his reach— the final blow as Prompto slams his fist into the man’s skull as hard as he can manage in his state.

Prompto coughs and eyes the man darkly. He straightens up, trying to regain control over the situation before gasping in pain and falling to his knees.

“Oh shit, oh—“ Noctis stammers, immediately coming to his aid. Noctis hooks his arms under Prompto’s and hoists him back to his feet, practically dragging him to the side of the alley so Prompto can lean against a dumpster.

“You hurt?” asks Prompto through the pain. He’s a superhero, after all. There’s a system here. Noctis doesn’t seem to realize that though, growing almost irate.

“Am I— am I hurt?! You’re half dead, are you crazy? Shit, we need to get you to a hospital—”

“No!” Prompto interrupts. “No way in hell, they’ll turn me into the cops. We can’t go there.”

“Where the hell else are we supposed to go?” Noctis almost shouts. Prompto realizes he’s panicking. “You’re bleeding out!”

“Just… hang on a sec…”

Prompto really has nowhere else to go. He can’t leave Noctis, not in his state. He wouldn’t even if he could, with Noct being such a danger magnet. He can usually patch his own wounds or get Gladio or Ignis to do it, but he’s nowhere near his apartment and he can’t call them with Noctis here.

Or.

Maybe he can. Maybe it’s time.

“Noctis.”

Noctis snaps to attention, eyes worried. “What? What do you need?”

Prompto breathes deeply. “Call Ignis. Tell him to meet us at your place with a first aid kit.”

Noctis looks at him searchingly. Prompto can practically see his thoughts whirring around in his skull. Noct has only mentioned Ignis in passing to Spider-Man, maybe twice in total. There’s no reason for a superhero to randomly request a stranger to patch him up, is there? His expression is caught somewhere between confusion and recognition; it’s like he’s right on the brink of realizing. Like he knows the answer but just can’t believe it.

No point in keeping things in the dark, Prompto figures. He rips off his mask.

Noctis takes a step back and breathes sharply. “Sh. Shit.”

Prompto smiles weakly. “Hi.”

Noctis gapes for several seconds. His mouth opens and closes. It’s kinda funny actually, he looks like a fish. Maybe it’s all the fishing he does that’s influenced that. Prompto feels a little delirious. How much blood has he lost again?

“Can we… get going?” he asks, his voice timid. It’s weird being like this with Noctis. Spider-Man is always so confident with him usually.

“I’m going to kill you,” says Noctis lowly, “as soon as you’re fixed up again.”

~~~

The trip back to Noctis’s apartment is slow going. Prompto can’t walk on his own, and though he tries to hold himself up as best as he can, it’s Noctis who bears most of the burden. He slings Prompto’s arm around his shoulder and grips his side and off they go.

Noctis fumes at him for at least ten minutes before shutting up in anger, and Prompto feels terrible. He doesn’t regret saving Noctis, he would never. He doesn’t even regret how far things went. He only wishes he never lied to Noctis.

Not to mention he’s in horrible pain. That’s bad too. He actually kind of drifts off for a while, he’s not sure how long. When he comes around again, Prompto notices through bleary eyes that Noctis has gone red in the face. It’s from lugging Prompto’s dead weight around, he assumes. Or maybe he’s still really angry. Prompto doesn’t know.

It’s ages before they make it home, but by some miracle there’s no one out in the streets. Maybe the dark mood has affected them too, and they all stayed in. Saves Prompto the trouble of worrying about his secret getting out, at least, so he doesn’t waste any more thinking on it.

Ignis is at the door waiting when they finally arrive, and Prompto can let himself relax. Except apparently he relaxes a little too much, because all he remembers is giving the worried man a weak smile before he can’t feel his limbs and everything goes black.

Ages and ages later, Prompto wakes up. He doesn’t open his eyes at first, barely conscious, barely aware of anything. He can feel the dim pain of his injuries, but that’s all he really understands and he just kinda floats between consciousness and unconsciousness for some time. Waking up is slow, but after what feels like forever he registers that he’s sorta awake and opens his eyes.

He’s in the spare bedroom in Noctis’s apartment. It’s late morning judging by the light filtering through the window. Prompto watches dust catch the light and fall to the ground; it’s pretty. Calm. Morning is quiet.

At least until Prompto realizes it’s a Wednesday, and that he should be in school right now.

“Ah—!” He shoots upright, momentarily forgetting his injuries, and pays for it when a fresh wave of pain racks through his body. He gasps and curls in on himself.

“Easy, man, easy,” says Noctis. Prompto looks up to see him sitting next to the bed dressed in the same clothes from last night. He looks tired, and a little worried. Mostly tired.

“How long have you been there?” Prompto asks. His voice comes out in a croak. Noctis scoots the chair closer and hands him a glass of water that Prompto accepts gratefully.

“Um. Awhile. You okay?” Noctis asks, avoiding Prompto’s eyes and instead staring at the comforter. Prompto bites his lip.

“I’m… I’ve been better. You should be at school…”

“Ignis called in sick for both of us. You gotta rest for today, he’s gonna go get whatever homework we missed later.”

Prompto lets out a soft “oh” and settles back into bed with Noctis’s help. Silence settles over them, and it’s really bad. Prompto can’t think of anything to say to break the tension. Well, he can think of a few things, but he’s not sure how “Sorry I didn’t tell you I was Spider-Man, all three of your best friends have been keeping this secret from you for over a year, and also we’ve been flirting for over half of that oops” will go over with him. Probably not too well.

“I didn’t say thanks last night,” says Noctis, still staring away from Prompto. “I was, um, overwhelmed. But you saved me… again… and I’m grateful. I mean it. So thanks.”

“Oh… you’re welcome. I mean, I do it all the time, it’s no problem.”

Noctis looks up then, and Prompto cringes away from the hard look in his eyes. That wasn’t the right thing to say apparently; oh no.

“‘No problem?’ Are you kidding me?” Noctis’s voice is quiet, mindful of Prompto’s vulnerable state, but his tone is no less forceful. “Prom, you could have died last night! You collapsed as soon as we got home, I was terrified! I—”

Noctis stops short. He takes a deep breath. “I’ve been fucking around every night looking to get into trouble so I could keep seeing Spider-Ma— you— and I’ve been putting you in danger! We only barely escaped last night, what if you had died?! Why didn’t you tell me to quit sooner, if you had died and I pulled off that mask and seen you—!”

He cuts himself off again. Noctis hangs his head and curls his fists. Prompto realizes they’re shaking. He looks like he struggles with himself for a few seconds. Then, with the scraping noise of the chair being pushed back, Noctis stands up and practically runs out of the room.

Prompto thought his physical pain was bad, but now he really feels like shit. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

HOLY MOLY THIS IS AWESOME!! I ADORE IT SO MUCH ❤