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inneedofsupervision · 13 days

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So, you got Detention

@berrys-hide-out Hey Berry, I hope reading this cheers you up a little, hope you like it <3. @cantsaythetword I didn't forget to tag you, here you go :)

Summary: Getting detention sucks. Getting detention for something you haven't done sucks even more. Getting detention and getting scolded through a Captain America PSA for something you haven't done and going home to have said man looking at you disappointedly is the bad-tasting cheery on top that Peter didn't need on this absolute disaster of a Monday. At least he gets the satisfaction of telling the rest of the team about Cap's PSAs. That's going to be fun.

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"Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you," sings Peter softly before his face turns into a grimace. "I'm never getting this song out of my head now. Thanks for that, Ned," mutters the teen without any bite, stepping out of the subway station. Despite Rick Astley uninvitedly declaring his love inside Peter's head, his lip twitched upwards for the first time today. He was glad to be finally heading to the Avengers Tower. Peter was ready to lock himself into the lab with Mr. Stark and ask the man what they would work on today. Him needing to bring distance between himself and the rest of the world doesn't come off as much of a surprise, taking into account that today had sucked until now. Immensely. At least in Mr. Stark's lab, nothing could get on his nerves, breaking the continuation of a bleak day.

It began with oversleeping.

The shrill sound of the alarm had cruelly torn Peter out of a dreamless slumber, and with a soft moan, the still sleep-drunk teen had aimlessly patted for the clock to end the obnoxious sound. As soon as silence had fallen over the bedroom, Peter's eyelids dropped, and although telling himself that it would just be five more minutes of lying down, he promptly fell asleep again. If Spiderman had stuck to his curfew and not exploited his aunt working overtime, there might be a chance getting to school late could have been avoided. When Peter woke the second time, tiredly checking his mobile phone, he sprung up in shock as he caught the time. Twenty minutes before the bell would ring. With no time for breakfast, he had washed up as quickly as he could, shoved the next best sweater and jeans he could find into his backpack, and sprinted out of the apartment. Peter usually avoided swinging to school, but drastic times called for drastic measures. He just hoped there wouldn't be any posts or articles of people wondering what Spiderman was doing, swinging this early in the morning cause that always prompted a rather unwelcome interview with Mr. Stark, or worse, Aunt May.

In his hurry to get to school on time, the boy had packed the wrong folder, thus having to scribble the history homework onto a paper two minutes before classes started. MJ had caught him sitting on the floor before the classroom, rushing to copy Ned's answers as if his life depended on it. She had pulled up an eyebrow before rolling her eyes. The girl didn't have to say anything for Peter's ears to grow red, embarrassed to look this unprepared in front of their decathlon team captain. Classes were relatively uneventful. Well, apart from the Spanish vocabulary test that Peter might have forgotten. Luckily, he could answer everything, although the boy was sure he spelled at least two words wrong. At lunch, Peter had felt the aftereffect of not eating breakfast as his stomach was rebelling, threatening to start eating itself from the sounds of it. The teen swore he could eat at least three portions until he had seen what they served today. To clarify, Peter isn't a picky eater. At all. Living years with Aunt Mays cocking trained him into trying everything deemed edible, and the hunger did the rest. But today, out of all days, the cafeteria ladies decided to let their presumable hate for the students show in the manifestation of the most disgusting-looking meatballs the boy had ever seen.

"Are those capers?"

Ned had glanced from his fork, where a with sauce dripping green ball of something pierced on, over to Peter, who, in return, squinted down onto his plate. He pushed the greens covered in watered-down sauce with his fork around before looking at his best friend with a frown.

"Could be. But to be honest, I don't really wanna find out."

The food had tasted just as it looked, and Peter was glad he was enhanced because he was sure if that weren't the case, he would have gotten food poisoning. How Ned got the funny-tasting excuses for a meal down was still a mystery to him. Having no money to buy something else to eat and knowing that his metabolism wouldn't let him go on without eating, Peter hadn't had much of a choice other than to force the stuff down his throat.

"If I don't show up to school tomorrow, you know what has happened to me," Ned had said with a slightly pained expression as he pushed his empty plate away to put a safety distance between himself and his lunch.

"Same," agreed Peter as he stood up. He had thrown a look at the leftovers, suppressing a shudder as he collected the food tray. They quickly left the cafeteria and the traumatic lunch experience the place brought with it behind. On their way to biology class, Peter had hope that this was the point where his day would finally turn, where it would start getting better. But of course, no day at school could end without Flash strutting up to them, holding onto the need to be insufferable. Flash had been making a beeline for Peter. The intent to bump his shoulder into Peter had been painfully obvious. Flash's nearing presence had sent Peter's spider-sense off, and it took the vigilante some willpower to let the impact happen.

"What, not apologizing for blocking the hall with your stupid face, Parker?"

Not wanting the situation to escalate, Peter tried to overlook the provocation. He wasn't looking forward to a confrontation, minding his business and continuing walking away when Ned whispered. "Don't mind him. Flash probably ate one too many of those meatballs and now feels like crap." Peter was aware that his friend only meant to lighten up the mood. He couldn't help heaving a sigh when their classmate turned around with an icy glare. "What did you say about me, Fatty?"

Apparently, Neds whispering had not been as quiet as intended. Flash had snarled, hand reaching out to grab Ned's collar but grasped at nothing as Peter anticipated the action and pulled his friend out of reach. He had shoved himself between the two and tried to calm Flash down when the teen grabbed his arm roughly, pulling him closer.

"Listen, Parker, one more word from your friend and I-" The rest of his threat had gotten cut off by the booming voice of Mrs. Warren echoing through the hallway, causing the students standing near her to jump at the sound.

"Parker, Thompson! Detention!"

"Fuck you, Parker."

With a glare, Flash had let go of him and stomped away under the watchful eye of Mrs. Warren. Ned had turned wide-eyed to his friend, carefully laying his hand on Peter's arm where Flash had grabbed him.

"Are you hurt? Peter, I'm so sorry, you shouldn't get detention because of me. I'll talk to Mrs. Warren."

Peter had pulled Ned back with a tired sigh. "Don't bother, Ned. You know Mrs. Warren won't change her mind. She's not exactly my biggest fan. I'll message Mr. Stark that I'm going to be late."

Ned was quick to protest. " But you did nothing wrong! Dude, that's just not fair!"

"It's alright, Ned. It's only detention. It won't be too bad."

By the time Peter finally got to step out of the building, he felt the urge to shake his head at his naivety. Detention had been downright awful. The second the supervising teacher had rolled in the antic tube television, Peter had an odd foreboding of what would come. The old device had flickered to life, and the speaker began playing with a static noise that made Peter wince inwardly. Peter swears he could see Mr. Stark before his inner getting an aneurysm at the sight and sound of their school equipment. Peter had ignored the burning pair of eyes trying to bore into the back of his head, courtesy of Flash, the latter trying to get his attention by calling him names but got told off by their teacher quickly. Peter had also noticed the lack of MJ, who chose today out of all days, not bothering to sketch someone's questioning of their life choices, and maybe detention would have been a tiny bit less terrible with her in the classroom. His eyes had flipped back to the TV, where a star-spangled, all too familiar-looking man sat down on a chair and began talking.

"So, your body is changing. Believe me. I know how that feels."

Peter had sunk deeper into his chair with a groan, the need to bid his lunch goodbye stronger than ever. Sixty painful minutes of unwanted advice from America's most popular and still living icon later, Peter is on his way to the Tower when his mobile phone vibrates inside his jeans pocket, Ned's name greeting him on the display.

"Hey, Peter. I'm still really sorry for earlier. But look what I found! This article is about Spiderman!"

Peter was glad his headphones were on as he clicked on the link Ned had sent him, as Never Gonna Give You Up blasts into his ears. It took him a few seconds as he stared down at his mobile phone, where the singer cheerfully danced behind his microphone, only for him to realize what happened. A surprised chuckle makes it out of his mouth as Peter holds his mobile phone up and whispers, "Dude, did you just rickroll me?". The grin was evident in his voice before he sent the audio message. It doesn't take Ned a minute to answer with a series of laugh emojis. Peter continuously chats with Ned on his way, his Spidey sense keeping him from bumping into anyone during the bustle on Manhattan's sidewalks.

Despite being late, there is the hint of a smile tugging Peter's lips upwards as he steps out of the elevator, amused about something Ned had written. Someone clears their throat, and Peter startles at the sound, quickly using his stickiness to catch his phone. The device dangles from the tip of his ring finger while Peter wonders why he has not felt their presence when a pair of familiar black dress shoes comes into view. Realization washes over Peter at their sight, the owner the only other person apart from his aunt, that his spidey sense doesn't go off to.

"Hey, Mr. Stark," greets Peter and puts on a polite smile as he takes in the frown displayed on his mentor's face. Maybe he should have written more than, "Hi, Mr. Stark. I'm going to be late. Happy doesn't have to drive me."

Peter's smile must have looked as forced as it felt by the look Mr. Stark gave him in return. The man stays quiet as Peter walks past him towards the guest room to put his backpack away. Walking into the living room, the teen gets greeted by the rest of the Avengers lingering around. Peter makes a beeline towards the couch where Clint is sitting, hoping to avoid the confrontation with his mentor just a little longer.

"Hey, Pete. How was school?"

"Please don't ask," mumbles Peter, taking a pillow to hug it while he sinks further into the cushions, trying to be one with the furniture. He leans his head back and stares at the ceiling while Clint chuckles next to him. "That bad, huh?" asks the man, and Peter hums. He closes his eyes, relishing that he finally gets to rest when the sound of footsteps grows closer before halting in front of the couch. Peter suppresses a sigh.

"Care to explain why you happen to be late?" Mr. Stark doesn't sound too bothered, which Peter takes as a good sign. He ponders if he liked Mr. Stark better when the man had been more indifferent but quickly pushes that thought into the back of his mind. Mr. Stark is just worried. But still, Peter didn't like the curiosity and concern in the older man's voice, the tone making him feel like a little kid getting scolded. The boy hugs the pillow closer, successfully muffling his voice by pressing it against his face. He really wasn't in the mood for this kind of conversation. Pushing his face deeper into the pillow, he grumbles, "I had detention."

"What was that? I didn't quite catch that, Spiderling."

Peter is pretty sure Mr. Stark did catch that. Something cold presses against his forehead, the only part of his face not hidden behind the pillow. Peter peeks from under it up to Natasha, who holds a can of Coca-Cola above him, a tiny smile on her lips. She nodded toward Stark with a reassuring smile, and Peter felt a bit better, knowing someone was there to step in if Mr. Stark became too overbearing. Taking the drink from her, the teen sat up properly and put the pillow down, facing his mentor.

"I hung out with Deadpool after school," he deadpanned, his last attempt to stir away from the topic. Mr. Stark raises an eyebrow, sending a side eye at Clint, who dared to snicker at the kid's comment.

"Funny kid, but just to let you know, I have a pretty little monitor in the lab telling me that you haven't left the school building until twenty-five minutes ago. Oh, and I hope for my and your aunt's sanity that you haven't been around Deadpool without at least a ten-mile distance between you two. That man is a nutcase, Peter."

Ignoring the jab at the merc with a mouth and Peter's secret "Thursday is taco-day" partner, he raises an eyebrow. "Should I file a police report for stalking, Mr. Stark?"

"Kid, I don't need two spies and Snowflake around knowing you are deflecting. Now, out with it. Why were you late?"

Peter picked up on the silence around, aware that, by now, everyone in the room and the kitchen were probably listening in. A little embarrassed by the attention, the teen's eyes wander toward his lap, where he absentmindedly fiddles with his web shooters, a sense of shyness overcoming him.

"I had detention," he repeats, a little timid.

The silence only lasts a few seconds.

"Ouch, detention. I knew there had to be something about you, man. No one can be such a goody-two-shoes all the time," teases Sam with a smile, patting Peter's shoulder as he walks past to sit next to Bucky. Peter's lip twitched at the comment, relief flooding him when he looked around and saw no one looking disappointed. Catching Mr. Stark studying him, Peter fumbles with his web shooters again. Although the man didn't seem mad, the way he was looking at him made Peter nervous. Before the teen knew what was happening, he was already throwing a lengthy explanation the man's way, a sudden flood of words hastily chained together to form a somewhat coherent report of what had happened.

"Those meatballs were seriously bad, Mr. Stark. It reminded me of the time you made me try oysters. I'm not sure if I should ever forgive you for that, by the way. That had been kinda traumatic." Peter was painfully aware he was full-on rambling at this point, but Mr. Stark silently listening was unnerving him greatly, so he pushed on, eyes everywhere except Mr. Stark.

"Flash walked up to us and tried picking a fight. I just wanted to go and ignore him, seriously Mr. Stark, I didn't even look at him, but then Ned said something about Flash feeling crappy cause of those meatballs, and it was a joke, but Flash heard it, and he was going to grab Ned by the collar."

Peter goes on, and by the looks Bruce and Rhodey are throwing him, he should probably take a second to breathe before freaking out the adults in the room. But Peter couldn't waste time caring about who he was freaking out because he was going to freak if not managing to make Mr. Stark understand that he didn't get detention on purpose.

"I put myself between them when Flash grabbed me instead when Mrs. Warren came by. She saw us in the hallway and gave us detention."

"Hold on," says Sam, sitting up as he looks at Peter, wearing an incredulous expression. "You've got detention 'cause you avoided your friend getting roughed up by that Flash kid? Is that what I'm getting?"

Before Peter could answer him, Mr. Stark had already his Stark phone out. "I knew that Flash kid meant trouble. That's it. I'm going to get that gremlin expelled."

"Wait, you can't do that, Mr. Stark!"

The man raises an eyebrow, and Peter backpedals quickly. "Okay, you could, but please, you don't have to. He didn't hurt anyone, and it's only detention!"

"He was about to hit your friend, Peter," comments Clint, and Peter did not doubt if Mr. Stark wasn't about to call his school, then the archer would be the one to do it. Clint could get weirdly protective at the most random times.

"He does dumb stuff, yes, but if you expel him, it could get him in serious trouble. I know he has problems at home, and getting expelled isn't the solution." By the pointed look he's receiving from several of the Avengers, Peter had a hunch that his arguments weren't cutting it. He needs to pull out the big guns. The teen leaned forward and looked up to Mr. Stark with the saddest puppy dog eyes he could muster. "Please, Mr. Stark. Don't call the school."

If he hadn't been panicking about Mr. Stark trying to expel his classmate, Peter would have found it funny how quickly the hero calling himself Iron Man crumbled. Tony rolls his eyes with an excessive sigh passing his lips as he pockets his Stark Phone. "Next time that hooligan starts something, I will have him expelled faster than you can say, Mr. Stark, got it?"

Peter grins at his mentor. "Got it, Mr. Stark," he chirps back, leaning back into the couch and feeling content for the first time that day. He catches onto the amused glances the others send him and Mr. Starks way.

"So, how many pizzas should I order?" asks Rhodey, the man successfully breaking the silence. With the promise of Pizza and the knowledge that no one minded him getting detention, Peter takes out his phone to text Ned, the smile from before back on his lips. He looks up, feeling someone looking at him, and meets Bucky's eyes.

"Still can't believe they give you detention without clearing up the situation," says the man, crossing his arms over his chest, a sour expression on his face. Peter was about to tell Bucky that it was alright, honestly touched that the man got bothered on his behalf when Captain America chose that moment to walk in. A groan builds up in his throat as the man settles next to Bucky. Steve's brows are furrowed in concern as he glances around the room, lines on his forehead deepening before his eyes turn to the teen. It takes only a second for Peter to guess that Steve had only picked up the detention part of the conversation.

"You've got detention?"

Steve says it so seriously it makes Peter want to throw the pillow at something. Or someone. Too tired to retell the event, Peter merely shrugs his shoulders. "It wasn't that bad."

He had hoped they would leave it at that, but who was he kidding? He's talking about Steve Rogers, after all. Peter's good mood starts deflating when Steve puts on his disappointed Captain America face.

"You're a good kid, Peter. You shouldn't get in trouble."

The teen's expression turns sour at Steve's comment.

"Steve, leave him alone," begins Bucky, frowning at his friend and leaning forward to intervene when the teen sinks into his seat with a low groan. Tony shoots him a worried glance. "What's wrong, Pete?"

Peter ignores the question in favor of sending Steve a glare. Steve dared to look baffled by the look sent his way. If today hadn't been so bad, Peter wouldn't even consider rolling his eyes at Steve, but now he couldn't be bothered to be polite to Captain Popsicle. "I had to listen to your lectures for sixty minutes today, Steve. Sixty. Minutes. I think I had my fill, so please don't bother starting another lecture about what is right and wrong if you don't even know what happened!"

Mr. Stark looks highly amused, not bothering to stop Peter from throwing his sass at Steve, which the teen usually kept for being alone with him in the lab, not often showing it in front of the rest of the team. Bruce raises an eyebrow, head slightly tilted in question. "Peter, Steve had been here all day while you were in school. When should he have lectured you?"

"He wasn't, but I had to listen to his PSA during detention, and I don't feel like hearing more now," answers the teen with something that might, under some circumstances, resemble a pout. Not that Peter would be pouting in front of the Avengers.

"PSA?" asks Clint while Bucky carries a thoughtful look before glancing at the blond sitting next to him.

"You shot PSAs? They still do these?"

Taking in all the puzzled faces around them, Peter quickly realized something that filled his inside with nothing but delight. It was like someone turned a switch, the not-pout on the teen's face morphing into a grin bright enough to lighten the room while Steve's face darkened with every new question asked, their expression the complete opposite of each other.

"They don't know," whispered Peter under his breath, eyes locked on Steve. He lets out a surprised laugh, a grin wider than ever.

"Oh my god, Steve, they don't know!"

He sits upright, the tiredness completely wiped off him as he beams at the blond, eyes gleaming with mischief rivaling Loki.

"Peter," says Steve slowly, the warning heavy in the undertone of his voice. Said warning meets deaf ears, Peter not even thinking about stopping any time soon. He had felt like crap the whole day. Nothing went his way, and Peter knows that that's not on Steve. But having to listen to Captain America's lecture when he did nothing wrong only for the man himself to assume that he did something the second someone uses the word detention in context with Peter without giving him a chance to explain rubbed him the wrong way. The teen isn't a fan of revenge and retaliation and holding grudges, but today, Peter felt petty. If Steve thought he could spoil the rest of the day after school had been that bad already, then he could buckle up. Peter knows his behavior is childish and petty, traits no one would connect with Spiderman, but the teen isn't Spiderman right now. He is Peter Parker, a feeling wronged fifteen-year-old who holds the perfect blackmail material of the person who wronged him in his young, inhumanly sticky hands.

"So," begins Peter in the most serious voice he could muster, giving it his best Captain America impersonation. The way Steve's expression contorted into a grimace was worth it. "you got detention."

"I give you one chance to stop, Peter," warned Steve, eyes narrowed dangerously. Peter only grins wider at that, having way too much fun rilling the blond up while the others could only share confused glances.

"Something tells me this goes over my head," stage whispers Clint.

"Doesn't everything?" shoots Sam at him simultaneously as Tony throws a, "Nothing new, then."

"Harsh," says Clint, rubbing his chest in mock hurt, causing the others to chuckle. "But back to Spider-kid and Cap, does anyone know what those two are on about?"

Choruses of no clue and a beat from Rhodey are all he gets before all eyes are on the pair, who are now challenging in a silent stare-off. Peter leaned forward, openly enjoying teasing the older man. Steve is ready to jump at him by the looks of it, but Peter isn't intimidated in the slightest, knowing he could outrun the older man. "You screwed up. You know what you did was wrong. The question is, how are you gonna make things right?"

Peter's grin widens at the same time Steve narrows his eyes.

"Last warning, Pete."

The blond raises his eyebrows, caught off guard when the teen leans back into his seat. He watches with surprise how Peter fishes his phone out of his pocket, taking a short glance at it before calmly placing it on the coffee table.

"Okay, I'll stop here," says Peter mercifully, stretching as he stands up and walks towards the kitchen. The blond's eyes follow the teen's movement, and Sam snickers how his friend's body deflates at the tension vacating his shoulders, amused by the power a teenager holds over Steve's head.

"Oh, by the way, Steve," Steve's heads shoot up at the tone in Peter's voice. He locks eyes with the teen, who wears the cheekiest grin any of the Avengers ever had seen him carry as he beams at the man.

"Maybe you were trying to be cool. But take it from a guy who's been frozen for 65 years... The only way to be cool is to follow the rules."

Peter's grin was about to reach his eyes. He couldn't help himself.

"Are you following the rules, Steve?"

In hindsight, Peter should have anticipated that the super soldier wouldn't let go of it without some retaliation. It had been too much fun to watch the man's patience thinning than to think what the outcome of that scenario would mean for Peter. He ducks at the same time his Spidey sense peaks, blocking the pillow flung at him just in time. The low buzz had begun to surr in his ear since he started teasing Steve and was growing into a shrill ringing when the man got up from his seat incredibly fast. Peter turns around while stepping out of reach, avoiding the hands reaching for him by vaulting over the couch, including Clint.

"Hey, no jumping over my furniture!" scolds Mr. Stark, but the crinkling of skin around his eyes betrays the stern act as he watches his mentee chased by Cap, wearing a grin on his face.

"Sorry, Mr. Stark!"

The sincerity of the apology suffers under the smile lying in his voice.

Peter stands still, eyes not leaving Steve, who hovers on the other side of the couch, waiting for him to move. Despite focusing on the blond, Peter catches onto the excitement in the room, their little chase entertaining the others immensely, followed by the cheering they receive from the rest. The whole situation was so silly. Peter couldn't help but laugh when he feinted a step to the side, causing Steve to flinch as the man was ready to pounce but narrowing his eyes as he caught on Peter trying to fool him. He couldn't wait to tell Ned that he had teased Captain America, the thought alone bringing a grin about to split his face.

The excitement in the room only increases, so much that Peter doesn't notice the new presence of a person before nearly bumping into them. Thanks to his sixth sense, he barely keeps from barreling into Mrs. Potts. He comes to an abrupt halt despite wearing socks, only possible thanks to his stickiness. Pepper holds a hand over her heart, the surprise written all over her face when Steve takes the chance of Peter not paying attention. The last thing Peter catches is Pepper's green eyes widening, her mouth forming a silent o before something slams into him at full speed, turning the world upside down.

"Whoa, careful Steve. I don't want squished spiders on my clothes."

Clint scowls playfully at the blond, who ignores him in favor of wrestling with a laughing teen on the couch. The archer rolls his eyes at being ignored and points his thumb at the pair.

"Children. It's like herding cats." He snorts at the sight of Peter with his back pressed into the couch, one foot pressed against the super soldier's chest, and pushing the 240-pound weight off of him without much difficulty. "So, your body is changing," begins Peter, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face despite Steve looming above him, looking ready to throw him out of the next window. The blond reaches out to cover Peter's mouth to block more parts of his most embarrassing PSA coming out of the teen, the panic in his eyes causing Peter to break out into laughter. Steve narrows his eyes at the laughing teen, who half-heartedly shoves him off of him.

"Can someone please tell me what is going on here?"

Peter perks up at Mrs. Pott's question, glancing at Steve with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Oh, I was just about to tell the rest about Mr. Roger's PSAs, Mrs. Potts," he chirps, ever so helpful. He was about to elaborate when Steve finally managed to clap his hand over Peter's mouth, successfully shutting him up.

"Noo, why did you turn him off?" complains Sam with faked disappointment. "It was just about to get interesting."

"Since when do you believe anything Peter tells you?" counters Steve, struggling to hold the teen down and keep him from spilling another word. Despite Peter's small size, the teen was powerful. Steve needed to trap him in a hold, somewhat resembling an uncomfortable back hug, to keep a hand over his mouth, but the teen with his freaky flexibility didn't even seem too bothered.

"Well, the kid can be very persuasive. And he did sound like he had something important to tell us. Isn't that right, Peter?"

Peter nods vigorously despite the hand still covering his mouth. They watch the teen worming an arm out of Steve's bear hug, tugging on the hand that kept him from talking. Sam grinned as he observed Steve's face fall at the ease Peter pulled his hand away. The older man tried reclaiming the position, but the teen had it in a tight hold, successfully keeping him from putting his hand back on his mouth. Peter grabs Steve's other wrist and pushes the man's arms away, wriggling out of the hold. A bright grin adorns the teen's face as he pushes Steve away, who is back on his heels in a second. Peter jumped off the couch as a hand seized his leg, causing him to fall over. Several surprised gasps could be heard, along with a rather colorful curse directed at Steve from Tony as Peter catches himself, keeping from faceplanting into Mr. Stark's pristine white living room floor. In contrast to the glares Steve receives at the rash action, Peter openly cackles as Steve tries pulling him back by his leg.

"There is a perfectly equipped gym two floors down, and they decide to do this here?"

"Don't be harsh on them, Tony. They seem to be having fun," appeases Pepper, surprisingly one of the few people along with Bucky and Natasha who weren't shocked by seeing Peter fall.

"Where does that look like having fun?" He asks, but one look at his mentee's face tells him his fiance was right. The kid is enjoying himself.

Meanwhile, Peter plants his palms on the floor, his upper body hanging off the couch. He sticks onto the tiles, sticking one hand down at a time, and crawls away while Steve still holds onto one of his legs. He keeps moving forward, laughing at the strained huff Steve lets out as he avoids Peter's free foot from kicking him in the stomach. The super soldier bats the flailing limp away, shortly loosening his hold on the teen's leg, which the latter quickly uses as a chance to create some leeway.

He doesn't get very far.

"No!" shouts Peter as a hand wraps around his ankle and pulls him back half a meter. "Sam! Bucky! Help!" pleads the teen half-heartedly, reaching out for the two men sitting on the opposite couch.

"What do you say, Buck? Do we help the munchkin?"

"I know Steve long enough not to interfere when he gets like that. Punk is a mad dog when he throws a fit. Sorry, kid, you're on your own."

Peter is about to give the men a piece of his mind when he gets pulled another good amount of inches back before he gets back to stick on the floor. He crawls away again, but Steve has none of it and reaches for the teen's other ankle. Thanks to his spidey sense, Peter avoids the grip by turning on his side, but it causes him to roll further towards the couch than away from it. Steve quickly takes the opportunity to reach down and hook his hand under the teen's side, attempting to heave Peter off the ground. The teen twists in his hold, and Steve curls his fingers into Peter to keep a hold of him when an honest-to-good squeal escapes the teen.

An eerie silence hangs over the room, no one daring to speak as Steve stares at the frozen teen in his hold who avoids meeting his face as best as he can, but he catches onto the reddened tips of his ears. Steve's lip twitched knowingly. He knows that kind of reaction. He squeezes his hand abruptly, lips forming into a grin as the body on the floor jumps like a fish on land at the action.

"Oho," says Clint, sounding way too gleeful, the first to break the silence, having watched the silent realization come over Steve with amusement.

"What a way to reveal your secret, kid. At least I won't have to keep this to myself anymore," comments Tony with a grin.

Now was Steve's turn, carrying a mischievous grin.

"A secret? What kind of secret could that be, Peter? You like sharing information. How about you enlighten us about this, huh?"

Peter feels his heart jump at the tone in Steve's voice. He kind of regrets having made fun of the man. Peter begins crawling again, but this time with more vigor than before. He doesn't get very far as Steve instantly pulls him back but meets resistance as the teen sticks to the ground. The problem resolves itself quickly as Steve releases one of Peter's legs to reach forward and claw at the teen's ribs. With a shriek, Peter's left hand unsticks, arm shooting down to protect his side. Steve's hand darts to the teen's other side, repeating the procedure and efficiently getting the teen off the ground. From there on, it was easy to throw the already laughing boy back onto the couch.

Never one to back down quickly, Peter instantly tries climbing over the couch, but an arm sneaks around his middle and prevents him from escaping. He tries reaching for the backrest, but a hand worms its way into his underarm, and every attempt to reach his arm out to grasp something becomes futile. He quickly gets pushed down, back pressed into the couch cushion as Steve looms over him for a second time that day, but this time, Peter could crawl out of his skin at the grin on the older man's face.

"Dohon't do this," says Peter, voice void of any conviction as nervous giggles accompany his words. Not knowing what to do with his hands, the teen awkwardly holds them in front of him, half shielding his upper body and half waiting to catch any hands that were about to attack. Steve watches with growing amusement how the boy's eyes jump from his face to his hands and back as if he were unsure what was more important to keep track of. He had never seen such an amount of nervous energy radiating from the teen. It was adorable to see him this unnerved about something harmless as this.

"This? What do you mean, Peter? Is this about the secret Tony mentioned?"

"I don't know what you are talking about. I don't have any secrets. Apart from being Spiderman, I mean," Peter stumbles over his words, lips twitching upwards when Steve raises an eyebrow at him. "No secrets to share, no information to keep. I have nothing to hide, so you can let me go. Please?"

Steve turns towards Clint, who hasn't moved an inch, even with the literal wrestling match happening on the seats next to him. "What do you say, Clint? Does he tell the truth?"

Peter throws a pleading look towards the archer. Clint grins at the pair.

"You see that face," he asks, pointing at the teen. "As a spy and a father, I can tell you that's the face of a liar."

"That's not true!" protests Peter as Steve turns back to him. Catching onto the look the man bestows on him, Peter snatches the next best thing he can get his hands on, a decorative pillow, and uses it to shield himself, a giant grin about to split his face. Steve cracks his knuckles.

"Seems like I have to get the truth out of you."

"Noho!" shouts Peter with a laugh as Steve pulls at the pillow. Nervous giggles are pouring out of him as he tries to make himself as small as possible, and it is faint, but Steve's enhanced hearing could pick up on the wild pace of the kid's heart beating.

"Let go of the shield, Spiderman," commands Steve, eyes gleaming playfully at the boy.

"In your dreams," says Peter, only fastening his hold onto the pillow, the only thing keeping him safe from the fingers getting closer. Steve catches a movement out of the corner of his eyes, lips twitching ever so slightly. He focuses back on Peter, the boy watching him with his whole attention, unaware of the hands reaching for his feet. A shriek escapes the vigilante, eyes widening at the feel of blunt nails running over his socked soles, causing him to flinch and pull his legs up at the ticklish feeling. Steve uses the moment of surprise to tear the pillow out of Peter's hand, depriving him of the last thing to shield himself from his attack.

"Thanks, Clint."

"No problem, Cap."

Peter sends a glare Clint's way, but the archer only needs to reach for his feet for the teen to let the glare turn into a panicked grin, quickly tucking his legs close. "That's what I thought," says Clint with a smug grin. Steve uses the moment of inattention, poking the teen's stomach in quick succession. The reaction didn't disappoint.

"Hey! Stohop it!"

Peter tries glaring at the blond while his hand fails to catch the poking fingers, jumping when one poke lands dangerously close to his lower rip. The motion doesn't go unnoticed by the soldiers' trained eyes, a sly smirk forming on the man's face. "Why? Does it bother you?"

"Yehehehes! Stahahap pokehihing me!" complains Peter, but it was hard to take the teen seriously with the constant giggling. Steve does stop at that.

"Alright, I'll stop. Would you prefer this instead?"

He skitters his fingers over the teen's stomach, grinning at the squeal escaping Peter before he tries curling on himself, hysterical giggles pouring out of him, unaware that the sound causes amused smiles to appear on every face in the room.

"Nahaha, gehehet your hahahands of mehehe," Peter manages to bring out between his laughter as he twists on his side, addressing the others.

"Sohohomebody hehelp!"

"Anyone here knows who that somebody is he's talking about?" asks Sam, feigning ignorance.

"I hahahete you, Bihihirdman 2!"

"Yeah, I can't take anything you say seriously giggle-bug."

Peter is about to counter, but a set of fingers dug into the part where his ribs and upper back meet, sending a ticklish shock throughout his body. He jumps at the touch, and Steve latches onto the reaction, taking both hands to claw at his ribcage and digging his fingers in on the search for that spot. Peter's giggles had long ago turned into bright laughter, now accompanied by an occasional shriek and a whole-body jump as Steve found what he'd been searching for.

"Oh, what's this?" he asks, voice full of glee.

"NOHOHOTHING, IT'S NOTHINIHIN!"

"Something tells me you're onto something, Cap," comments Rhodey with a grin, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, amusement written all over his face.

Peter shakes his head at the words, chanting "Stopstopstopstohohooop," while trying to catch the hands that are way too skillful in sending ticklish sparks under his skin, leaving him in stitches. "Why? Is this the spot I have to go to to get you to tell me about your secret? Although I think I can already guess what it is."

Steve grins down at Peter who tries so hard to scowl at him but fails miserably. It leaves the man wondering where all the strength has gone, and while the idea of tickling being Spiderman's big-bad weakness sounds fun, Steve knows for the better that this couldn't be the reason for the teen's failure to escape.

"OH MY GOHOHOHOD, NOHOHO!" Peter kicks his legs, wriggling from side to side and throwing his head back when Steve finds a way to slip his hands into his underarms. He presses his arms down, quickly rendering Steve's fingers immobile, but the feeling of them simply touching his armpits tickled like mad.

"Peter, I kinda need my hands back, or we're stuck here until tomorrow," teases Steve, amused when the boy shakes his head with a giant grin.

"Buck, a little help here?"

The other man huffs a small laugh. "You're seriously stuck?"

Steve grins at him. "I can't move a single finger."

With a shake of his head, Bucky makes his way over to the couch. He assesses the situation before glancing at Peter, the latter trying to catch his breath. Without a word, Bucky clasps both hands on Peter's thighs just over the kneecap, squeezing and massaging his thumb into the muscle. Peter kicked like mad at the action, breaking into loud belly laughter, and Steve could pull his hands away as the teen was busy twisting and wriggling, trying anything to get Bucky's hands off his knees.

"How did you know that would work?" asks Sam, impressed, as Bucky walks back to sit on the couch as if nothing had happened. Bucky shrugs. "It works on Steve," he answers cooly, but with a smirk playing on his face. Steve glares at him but quickly focuses on Peter, who uses the moment to try crawling in the other direction of the couch. Clint only watches with amusement as he has a lap full of enhanced teen trying to crawl over him as if that was your normal Monday afternoon thing, only to get caught by the shoulder and get dragged back.

"We're not done yet, Queens."

"Steheheheve, pleaahahse. I cahanah't tahahake anymhohore!" whines Peter, but Steve catches onto the playful spark glinting in his eyes.

"Okay, I'll stop here," says Steve, mimicking Peter. "But there's one thing I'll have to tell you." The teen narrows his eyes at the blond, not trusting one word coming from Steve.

"What I tell you now is about one of the most valuable traits a student or soldier can have."

Peter's eyes widen comically. As soon as his brain registers the words, he gracelessly flails in his place. The teen tries to throw himself off the couch as he knows where this is going, but Steve, having anticipated the action, jumps forward and catches the teen around the waist. He keeps his arm wrapped around Peter's middle, hugging the teen against his chest and kneading his free hand into Peter's side without further ado.

"Nohohohot anohohother one! Steve pleahahahase! Dohohohon't do thihihhis! I-I'll goho insahahane!"

Steve keeps a stoic face despite the madly giggling and protesting fifteen-year-old half-sitting squirming in his lap, batting and pulling on the arm holding him in place. He continues his speech with his Captain America voice, causing several eyebrows to raise in amusement.

"Patience." he begins, while his hand slips under the teen's shirt, skittering his fingers over bare skin, "Sometimes, patience is the key to victory."

Peter doesn't know if it's the teasing or the fact that Steve keeps dragging his fingers over the bare skin of his sides, but he can't help kicking his legs into the air and throwing his head back into Steve's shoulder as his whole body shakes under the force of him laughing. Steve takes advantage of Peter's head being this close as he speaks the following words right into his ear, earning him the cutest giggle he had ever heard as the teen desperately tries to scrunch his shoulder up and shield his ear from the tickly air. "Sometimes, it leads to very little, and it seems like it's not worth it, and you wonder why you waited so long for something so disappointing."

At his last word, Steve changes his tactics and uses his free hand to poke every place he can find that Peter isn't poorly trying to protect. The boy can't do anything in his hold but giggle his head off, and Steve wonders once again why Peter doesn't escape since he certainly could until he realizes that, maybe, Peter doesn't want to escape. The thought sparks his interest, and he might as well test that theory while the opportunity's still there.

"STEHEHEHEHEHEVE! NO! Anywhere but there! Please please please, please not thihihis it's so bad. Seriously, dohon't do it! STEHEVE NOHOHO, WHY AREN'T YOHUHU LISTENIHIHIHN! AHAHAHAH NO STAHAHAHAP!"

Peter trashes in his hold as the super solider gets another chance to dig into that sweet spot between his back and rips, sending the kid into a laughing fit, face reddening as he squeezes his eyes shut, the corner wettening with tears of joy before his laughter turns silent.

"Steve, I'll think he got the message," interrupts Tony, having caught onto the change from silent laughter to coming out a tad bit breathless. Not wanting to overdo it, the blond stops the tickling but keeps his arm around the teen, afraid Peter will fall if he lets go of him. The boy hangs slack in his hold, trying to catch his breath.

"You good, Queens?" asks Steve, a little worried he might have overdone it as he carefully loosens his hold on Peter. The latter let himself slip to the side, landing with a groan on the couch. Feeling Steve's eyes on him, Peter turns his head but keeps lying on his side. He sends the man a tired grin.

"I think now I know the true meaning of patience. And ruthlessness."

With a smile, Steve reaches over and ruffles Peter's already messed-up hair.

"You need another lecture, and you know where to find me," he jokes, smirking at the dramatic groans it earns him.

"Yeah, no, I think I pass. You know what I would rather listen to?"

Steve raises an eyebrow in question.

Peter grins at him.

"Some Captain America PSAs."

#ticklish! peter parker #ticklish spiderman #lee peter parker #ler steve rogers #marvel tickle fic #peter parker #spiderman #captain america #steve rogers

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starkidsdaily · 2 months

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Since I couldn't post for a few days here's a bunch of photos

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berrys-hide-out · 3 months

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Run

A/N; YO! Another fun lil Drabble while I decide on how on earth the next tiny story will play out! I really wanted to do something with a pair I haven’t seen all that often yet and soooo bam Loki and Pete! ✨

Summary; Peter plays a prank on the god of mischief, Loki remembers a little quirk the young hero possesses thanks to an involuntary squeak. Not that either of them really minded

—————————————

“Run.”

Peter did not have to get told twice as he immediately stormed off with anticipating and panicked giggles. He wasn’t sure why he decided to play daredevil and prank the god of mischief himself— well actually it was because he was bored. Hella so, with the avengers on a mission and only left behind with Loki who seemed to be engrossed by his books… boredom was inevitable.

Now what did he do you might ask; simple! He filled a bowl with pink glitter and put it at the top of the door and ultimately forgot about it until an hour later when he walked by just as the god fell into his trap.

Did he regret doing this? No. Not at all in fact as he literally snorted at the sight and told FRIDAY to take a picture.

Was he regretting it now? Probably not but his thoughts were running miles as he quickly rushed into the lounge, then the kitchen and around the counter. What would the god do when he caught him?! The avengers weren’t home until midnight! Sure he wouldn’t hurt him but it is the god of mischief after all!

Loki’s grin made goosebumps spread all over his arms and neck and a giddy smile forced its way onto his features. “Y-you know pink fihits you well.” He tried- and failed to choke back the giggle, his hand coming up to cover his mouth half heartedly. It was a sight to behold— the god of mischief hair and outfit full of shiny pink glitter.

Loki shook his head and tutted “tsk, tsk, tsk, you need to learn one thing kid; you don’t play mischief on the god of mischief.”

Peter squeaked and moved around the isle as Loki moved. “Why don’t we drop this and ohorder pizza?” The god grinned “my are we nervous Petey?” The teen gave him a small tiny whine as a reply which ripped a deep chuckle from the god.

Just that made Pete suddenly bolt for the lounge again— only to collide with something strong… or someone as he was suddenly thrown over the gods shoulder and they turned around. The decoy vanished, only further proving that he was on the gods shoulder “WAIT- wait wait NOHonononono! Loki cohome on it was a harmless prank! It’ll wash out I Promihise! UhUHUsing magic is Unfahair!” Peter tried- and failed to flail enough to get out of the gods hold, resulting in him hitting the man’s back.

Loki huffed and adjusted the boy. Peter yelped and his hands shot down Lokis back to prevent himself from falling over, only hearing the god chuckle at his reaction. They continued down the hall…. At least until the god subtly dug a little deeper into Peter’s back thigh and he squeaked out a protest “NOHo! StoHop that!yoHOu’re tickling mEHe!” Peter yelped and kicked out, one hand shooting off of the gods back to try and grapple at Lokis hands.

Loki stopped “this just got a whole lot more amusing.” The playful and mischief in the gods voice made Peter sputter and his escape efforts suddenly spiked- legs kicked out, hands flailed and a long protest of giggly “NO!”’s followed as they made their way back to the lounge. The anticipation made his already heightened sensitivity so so much worse.

“Cohohome on! It was just a lihittle glitter! I’m sorry!” Loki chuckled and threw the boy onto the couch in the empty lounge which he bounced off once or twice and immediately tried to get away “don’t lie to the god of mischief boy, you’re not sorry in the slightest” he warned before his hands latched onto Peter’s sides. It was true— Peter wasn’t sorry the apology just flew out of his mouth.

The girly squeal that emitted from the boy only fed the gods growing soft spot for the boy.

Peter immediately squeezed his eyes shut, turned and started wiggling around, his hands flying down to Lokis to try and catch them without much luck. The god’s hands practically flew through the boys defences, even with the Peter-tingle which only made this so much more fun — I mean worse!

“This’ll teach you not to lie or use mischief against the god of it.” Loki chuckled as he watched Peter’s cheeks heat up “NEhEhehehe IHihe- I wa- ahaHAha WaHas BoHohored!” Peter whined through hysterical giggles.

Loki hummed “I don’t see what makes you think that that qualifies playing tricks on me” he said and slowly moved over the boys stomach enlightened to hear his giggles become bubbly and childlike “now this is just sweet~” the god cooed.

Peter’s struggling lessened a little and his blush deepened. “nOHohoHO ihIHIhihi— Ihits NOhOhohot! AHAHA- LOHOKI!” Peter suddenly screeched when one of Lokis hands caught one of the flailing ankles and trailed a few scribbling fingers up his sole.

Peters enhanced strength proved to be helpful enough to yank his foot back but the attack to his hips made him recoil and shake his head, hands finally latching onto the offending fingers that drilled into the hipbones on both sides simultaneously.

“NAHAA! THiHIHis iHIs UnFaHAH- uNFahAHAir!” Loki chuckled “actually this is plenty fair.. this however..” Peter gasped when one of his hands was suddenly held up above his head and the second hand hovered just above his outstretched ribs and armpit.

“This is unfair.” The god grinned darkly. Peter spluttered and the ongoing giggles stopped him from forming a coherent word— a sentence right now was impossible.

“Are you regretting having pulled a trick on the god of mischief?”

An out. If he really wanted to he could’ve had this dropped now but at this point Peter was having way too much fun with the god and shook his head with a wobbly grin and an overall giddy expression.

Loki shook his head at the playfulness the Midgardian child had. He also wasn’t quite sure where all of that energy came from but he was more than happy to let their little game continue for awhile. “Wrong answer~”

Peter squeaked and practically jumped when Lokis hand faked out.

The boy opened one eye then the other. Loki grinned down at him, emitting a low giggly whine from the teen. “See.. I’m starting to think you enjoy this” he said and traced along the boys ribs. Gently enough not to dig in but definitely rough enough to get a sweet reaction out of the kid.

Peter giggled hysterically and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to cover his burning face as he shook it ‘no’. Though at this point his face wasn’t the only part that shimmered in a light crimson. His ears and neck joined his blistering cheeks beautifully.

Loki grinned “if you close your eyes you won’t see the attack Petey” that got him back the boys attention. The anticipating gleam in the boys eyes, the disheveled hair, the bright red hue that covered him it was a sight practically to coo over but Loki needed to prove a point and so scribbled over the boys armpit. He needed a good reaction, as far as the avengers Mission-times go they were never exactly accurate— but ho boy did he get a reaction when his fingers hit the skin.

Peter snorted, threw his head back with loud and boisterous cackles while his legs kicked out. Loki’s fingers drove the poor kid up the wall, somehow he knew exactly what spot and technique would get the kid to wither under his touch

“NAHAHA! IHIHI’M SAHA- SHOHORRYHEHEE! LOHOHOHKIHEHE- HEEE!”

With a chortle Loki let up and instead moved to tracing the kids belly “so what are you sorry for?” “Fohor pranking thehe god of mischiehehef!”

Loki hummed and squeezed his thigh where it had more or less all begun “and?” “LYHYING!” Peter squeaked out. “Lying what Pete?” The god grinned cheekily. “Don’t liehe to the god of mischief!”

Loki hummed happily “glad you came around.” He said and Peter chuckled, curling up to face the couch cushions.

“Naw don’t go hiding on me now” Peter’s squeaky giggles escaped his mouth quicker then he could cover it when the god scribbled over his back. He didn’t even know his back was ticklish!

The boy quickly turned back around and was about to say something before-

“Pete has a ticklish back?!” Came from the doorway making both, spider-child and the God of Mischief look up in utter bewilderment.

In the doorway, Sam, Bucky and Tony.

They didn’t even hear them come in.

“I’m so using that next time.” Tony chuckled. Peter whined “mister staaahaaark!” Loki gave a low chuckle. “And someone’s gone soft” Tony continued making the god flush bright red “he just needed an attitude adjustment and I happened to find out a rather interesting fact about our spider” He said and eyed Peter who immediately started giggling his little heart out.

“You should probably wash out the glitter before it gets everywhere.” The captain said as they walked in.

Peter chuckled. “I got him good though” he said before noticing the warning and menacing grin that spread on Loki’s features.

The boy squeaked and rushed out, incoherent words spilling all over the place with giggles prepped in. Probably leaving a trail of “nohooo”‘s and “I’m sorry”’s

Loki chuckled and shook his head.

The boy really has a weird thing for getting in trouble.

“You too reindeer games” Tony called from the kitchen which earned an eye roll. But Loki didn’t protest any further. The glitter had to leave.

Once out of earshot Tony grinned “FRI!”

#berry talks #tickle fic #Lee!peter #Lee!spiderman #ticklish!peter Parker #ler!Loki #lee!peter parker #berry’s hideout

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jettorii · 1 year

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please dont flag me tumblr i am on my knees

#spideypool #lee!deadpool #lee!wade #ler!peter #ler!spiderman #tickle art #tickle fanart #spiderman tickle #deadpool tickle #ticklish!deadpool #jettdoodles #hopefully this wont get me flagged #please tumblr im not showing the first part #i have nothing to lose at this point tumblr ill lick your toes

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amazingmsme · 4 months

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With a Bow on Top

AN: Happy holidays to all who celebrate, & especially to @tickles-tea I’m your squealing santa! I loved writing this, & I hope you enjoy! Added a lil festive flare to this one. HUGE thanks to @hypahticklish for hosting! & be sure to follow @squealing-santa so you don’t miss out on all the winter fluff!

Miguel sat on the floor of Peter and MJ's living room, half-used rolls of wrapping paper scattered about the floor around him. Peter himself was sitting next to him, completely transfixed on the movie playing "for background noise."

That lying rat bastard.

"You know, I only said I'd bring my universe's Grinch because you promised you wouldn't get distracted and actually help out. Which, you're not doing," Miguel said bluntly. Peter snapped out of his Christmas movie haze to defend himself.

"Sorry, but I've just never seen it before!" He reached down and grabbed one of Mayday's unwrapped gifts. Folding the paper around the box, he finished by sealing it up with a web. Miguel rolled his eyes.

"What? My gift looks way cooler than yours, you're just jealous of my artistic flare," he said smugly.

"Don't get me wrong, it looks great, but how's she gonna open it?" Miguel asked with a smirk. Peter's brow's nearly kissed his hairline as he came to the realization.

"Shit! Well, hopefully by Christmas it'll be weak enough to tear through," he finished with a shrug, slapping a bow on top and sliding it under the tree. As Peter reached for another present, he noticed a scrap piece of ribbon, much too short to fit around a box. Then, his gaze trailed over to his unassuming friend. Perfect.

He picked it up, fluttering it along the back of Miguel's neck. Peter can hear him gasp, and isn't that a lovely sound. He rolls his broad shoulders, arching his back and scrunching his neck ever so slightly. By the time he whipped around to glare at the perpetrator, he had already retracted his hands, hiding them innocently in his pockets.

Miguel looked him up and down before returning to his work. To his credit, Peter waited a few seconds before striking once more. Miguel sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, rubbing his ear against his shoulder to rid himself of the lingering tingles.

"Peter?"

"Hm?"

"I know you're not really working," he deadpanned. Peter sputtered in shock.

"I am too! Look, a perfectly wrapped gift!" he said proudly, holding out Mayday's present. Miguel looked it over, only half amused.

"You're right, a gift. So why not pick up the pace?" he challenged, tossing a Spider-Man themed basketball his way that Peter had planned on giving Miles. Peter caught it with one hand, and Miguel rolled his eyes. Showoff.

"How the hell am I supposed to wrap a ball?"

"I don't know wise guy, you're the one who got it for him." Okay, Peter wasn't sorry for what he was about to do.

He grabbed a marker off the floor and uncapped it with his teeth, making a satisfying pop sound. He barely bit back a snicker as he leaned in, quickly scribbling at the back of his neck. A strangled squeal caught in his throat at he snatched Peter's wrist in one hand, the other rubbing at his neck.

"You think you're funny or somethin'?" he asked with a cold glare.

"Hilarious, actually," Peter corrected with a shrug. Miguel scoffed and let him go.

"Go back to watching the damn movie if you're just gonna bother me," he suggested, grabbing a new tube of wrapping paper to switch things up. Can't have them all looking the same, now can we?

Why not both? Peter thought to himself, an evil grin growing on his face that rivaled the Grinch onscreen. He grabbed two pieces of ribbon discarded on the floor holding them poised to strike between his fingers. Miguel had his back turned, busy wrapping another present and allowing himself to get sucked into the movie. He was practically serving himself up on a silver platter. He really ought to know better by now...

Or maybe he didn't totally mind Peter's shenanigans. But that was a silly, fleeting thought.

Or was it? Only one way to find out.

Ever so quietly, he scooted closer to Miguel, snatching the marker off the floor. The grumpy Spider-Man was sporting a pair of ripped jeans. (He constantly made sure people knew he didn't buy them like that and that he earned those holes and rips.) A particularly large hole left his knee exposed and vulnerable for an attack... Perfect.

He let out a surprised snort, jerking his leg away before a chuckle could follow. They were locked in an intense staring contest, or glaring contest, on Miguel's part. Peter wore an innocent grin, though his next words were anything but.

"What's wrong big guy? Ticklish?"

If it were anyone else, they wouldn't have noticed the way he flinched at the question.

"No."

"Really? You're sticking to that lie?"

Miguel huffed, angrily slapping a bow on top of a present. "It's not a lie."

"Well in that case, I'm not ticklish either," Peter boldly proclaimed. Miguel looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Since we're being honest and all." Miguel grabbed a tube of wrapping paper, bonking Peter on the head in one swift motion before he even knew what happened.

"Don't forget I'm the one helping you," he reminded pointedly.

"Noted," Peter said, grabbing the tube from him and setting it beside MJ's new boots. For good measure, he started wrapping the gift until Miguel turned away. Then it was back to scheming.

He scanned the pile of unwrapped gifts for inspiration, smiling to himself when he spotted a handheld massager he got as a stocking stuffer.

"Hey Miguel?" he elected to ignore the annoyed groan he was met with, "Can you do me a favor?"

"No."

"Perfect! Just tell me if this massager is any good, okay? I don't want it to be too weak or painful, or not have enough settings." He heard Miguel sigh in defeat.

"Whatever."

"Thanks!" He scooted closer to him, turning on the X-shaped massager. At first he decided to play nice and actually work out the tension in his friend's shoulders before setting his plan into motion. He had to rebuild some trust, after all.

"Not bad, I think she'll like this," Miguel hummed, letting his head fall to one side as he began to relax. He was really watching the movie now, allowing himself a moment to enjoy it. It was one of the more heartfelt scenes of the film, and one of his favorites. He found he tended to like the more subtle, meaningful holiday movies rather than the over the top comedies and rom coms that dominated the season.

The last thing he was expecting was a dreadfully ticklish buzzing on his side.

His resolve gave way as he fell onto one side, loud surprised cackles spilling out into the room and drowned out the sound of the TV.

"Peheheter! Quit ihihit!"

"I'm sorry, what was that? I couldn't hear you through all that laughing. Which is weird, considering how not ticklish you are," he taunted, running the massager over his abs. Miguel curled in on himself, a giggly groan slipping out in response to the teasing.

"You're hohohorrible, you know thahat?" he asked, weakly swatting at Peter's hands, but to no avail.

Peter snorted. "Maybe to you."

The gentle vibrations traveled from his belly up his sides and to his ribs, causing the deep rumbling chuckles to build up momentum. Encouraged by this, Peter grabbed his wrist and wrestled his arm above his head, pinning it in place.

"Wahait!" he cried, trying to fend him off with his other hand. Peter grinned down at him, the textbook definition of smug.

"Okay. Well? What am I waiting for?" he asked, hovering the tool above his armpit menacingly. Miguel slammed his head against the ground in frustration.

"Gehehet off of me, you asshole!" he demanded through giggles.

"Why should I?" Peter challenged.

He just won't quit, will he? Miguel had no choice but to surrender, if they ever wanted to get done wrapping, that is.

"Fihihine, okay? You wihihin!" he conceded, rolling around on the ground. ,!"

"Wow, okay, so what do I win?" he asked, pulling his hands away to give him a breather. Miguel panted and glared up at him.

"I'm fuckin' ticklish, okay? There, happy?" he growled through residual giggles.

"Over the moon," Peter confirmed. He patted Miguel's chest as he let him go, crawling over to the pile of unwrapped presents. "No more funny business, I promise!" he assured. Miguel only rolled his eyes, a fond smile still lingering on his face.

"Yeah yeah, I'll believe it when I see it."

#squealing santa 2k23 #squealing santa #ss2k23 #miguel o'hara #peter b parker #spiderman atsv #atsv #atsv fic #spiderman atsv fic #atsv tickle fic #spiderman atsv tickle fic #ticklish!miguel

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tickly-tufts · 9 months

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Date Night

in which mj bullies miguel with thigh tickles cuz i have brainrot and wanted to treat myself

—

Unsurprisingly, it was Peter’s fault.

“I am… so sorry.”

Muffled through a palm that barely hid a grin, the apology was entirely unconvincing.

“Yeah, I can tell you’re just wracked with guilt,” Miguel deadpanned, feeling dead inside. He would’ve rubbed his temple if he’d been able, but neither arm was stuck close enough to his head. His next move might’ve been to use his claws, if he’d had the range of motion for it. Unfortunately, there was little one could do when they were half-encased in webbing.

It was the end result of a series of mishaps, comical for Peter, miserable for Miguel. In short, there’d been a Spiderman experimenting with new web fluid, high-strength to the point that it’d jammed their web-shooter. Much to everyone’s surprise, they’d turned to Peter B. Parker for help. Flattered, he’d promised to take a look at the web-shooter… then promptly misplaced it in Miguel’s lair.

And then, because the only thing worse than Parker luck was O’Hara luck, Miguel had been the one to find it.

On the floor.

By stepping on it.

“Wow, you’re super stuck on there, huh?” Peter tugged at the webbing on Miguel’s chest. It wrapped across his entire torso, too thick to simply pull apart. In contrast, Miguel’s lower body had nearly been spared, bearing only a handful of web clumps. Unfortunately, that still proved enough to bind his legs, trapping him in an odd lean against the wall.

“I can whip up a solvent in the lab, but it’ll take time,” Peter warned, getting serious. Then he exhaled ruefully. “Of course this happened on date night… MJ’s gonna be bummed.”

Honestly, Miguel was disappointed, too. He’d been looking forward to his evening with the Parkers. However, before he could consider admitting it, Peter suddenly brightened and lifted his watch.

“I just had the best idea.”

—

MJ had visited Nueva York before, but the portals were still a novelty to her. Stepping from her sunny living room into Miguel’s shaded sanctum resulted in some stumbling as her eyes adjusted.

“¡Cuidado!” Miguel hissed out in alarm when she nearly ran into a shelf. Quickly course-correcting, MJ followed his voice, eventually locating the correct corner.

“Oh, Migs,” she sighed when she saw him, reaching out to cradle his face. Instinctively, Miguel leaned forward, though he couldn’t actually get any closer.

“How much did Peter tell you?” Miguel asked while her thumb brushed soothingly against his cheek.

“Enough to know our dinner plans won’t be happening, but I can still keep you company while Peter fixes this mess.” MJ then paused, realizing something. “Is Lyla not with you? I thought she lived here.”

Miguel shrugged, or at least tried to. “She’s assigned to monitoring the multiverse tonight.” He scowled a bit. “I got her to call Peter, but that’s as far as she needs to be involved in this.”

MJ’s lips quirked up in amusement. “Because she’ll make fun of you?”

“…She already did.”

Miguel pouted, and unable to resist, MJ kissed him, nice and slow. “You poor thing,” she murmured when they parted, pleased to see him looking slightly dazed. “Anything I can do to make you feel better?”

Miguel raised an eyebrow at her tone. “Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but what can you do while I’m webbed up like this?”

MJ looked down, and Miguel followed her gaze, realizing then that she stood between his legs. There was some space separating their bodies, but it couldn't have been more than an inch. “Depends on how much you can feel through the suit,” she practically purred, giving his left thigh a squeeze. MJ had meant for it to be flirtatious... only to jump when Miguel jolted violently.

“Miguel?!” she cried out in concern, then registered that he'd also made a sound. Not one of pain, nor pleasure like she'd aimed for, but- “Wait a second, are you…? Here?”

Miguel froze as MJ reassessed him, eyes roaming curiously across his legs. Hyperaware of where her thoughts were leading, he barely suppressed the urge to shiver. He did shiver when she grabbed herself a seat, scooting in right between his knees. Placing a hand on top of each thigh, she smiled up at him... then started kneading.

“SHOCK!” Miguel screeched before he crumbled, cackling without any restraint. Both MJ and Peter had tickled him before, but no one had gone for the thighs since… well, Xina. It was even worse than he remembered, and he'd remembered it being pretty embarrassing. His ex had never let him live it down, and evidently, it was back to haunt him.

“How did we not know about this?” MJ marveled, alternating between legs. She massaged upwards from his knees, which might’ve been relaxing for anyone else. Miguel writhed within the cluster of webbing, eyes squeezed shut as tightly as possible. They shot back open when MJ moved inwards, pinching along his inner thighs.

“¡Mierda!” escaped him more like a whine than a curse, as he flung his head back, giggling uncontrollably. MJ only did this for a minute before withdrawing in astonishment.

“So that’s all it takes to get the fangs out, huh?” She could not have been more delighted. “Aww, no, don’t be shy!” she protested when Miguel rushed to hide them. Thinking fast, she switched to scratching, honing in on the thickest part of his thighs. Miguel promptly lost his mind, fangs flashing openly as he wailed with mirth.

Scratching eventually eased into grazing, granting Miguel a break, though not enough to stop smiling. He allowed his fangs to peek out from his mouth, if only to garner more mercy from MJ.

“Such a cute smile,” MJ cooed, smirking when Miguel turned his head away, flustered. She and Peter had realized quite early on that direct praise worked wonders on him. Speaking of which- “Peter’s really missing out… We’ll definitely have to fill him in later.”

Miguel tried not to think too hard about all the things Peter might do with that knowledge.

As soon as Miguel was reasonably recovered, MJ resumed her exploration with the backs of his thighs. Miguel’s legs trembled as MJ’s fingers climbed them, but that wasn’t the part that got him giggling again.

“Oh my god.” MJ couldn’t stop grinning when she finally noticed where her hand had wandered. “Seriously? Your ass is ticklish? Peter is gonna love this so much.” She was very tempted to linger there herself, but Miguel's position just wasn't ideal for it. Sitting back, she examined him again, contemplating her other options.

“Will I regret asking what you’re thinking?” Miguel questioned cautiously.

MJ looked pensive, then mischievous.

“There's just one more thing I have to try.”

—

The solvent was done sooner than he’d expected. Future tech really never ceased to amaze. Peter swung his way back to Miguel’s lair in record time, fully prepared to announce himself, until-

“¡POR DIOS, ERES UNA SÁDICA!”

The exclamation made him rear back. It had obviously come from Miguel, but what the hell was making him sound like that?

Peter’s spider-sense wasn’t going off at all, but just to be safe, he crept forward in stealth mode. He nearly abandoned it to charge in when he heard what sounded like a sob. Experience kept him grounded, though. If something bad was happening, he needed the upper hand. Then he finally rounded the corner, and apprehension made way for awe.

He’d seen MJ tickle Miguel before, poking playfully at his sides, or even nibbling at his neck. Peter and MJ had both picked up on the fact he never genuinely tried to stop her. It was one of Peter’s favorite discoveries about Miguel, even if Miguel rarely made it that easy for him. With all that in mind, though, Peter still wasn’t ready to find MJ tickling Miguel to tears.

“Nonono- ¡No puedo más!” Miguel was babbling between hysterics. Meanwhile, Peter’s very lovely wife was digging into the crease of his thighs. The webs holding Miguel showed off their strength, hardly letting him thrash, much less escape. Miguel’s desperation only intensified as MJ’s fingers migrated inward.

Mary Jane could be a menace. Peter had known that for years. He was pretty sure that after this, Miguel would never forget it either. With MJ scribbling right between his thighs, he broke down within seconds.

“¡No más! Please! Stohohop, plehease!” Miguel begged breathlessly, hitting his limit.

And because MJ was mean but never cruel, she pulled back without any hesitation.

Peter waited another minute for Miguel to calm down, while MJ gently brushed tears from his eyes. He couldn’t make out whatever she was whispering, but he could guess from the way Miguel nuzzled her palm. “Hope I’m not ruining a tender moment,” Peter piped up then, revealing himself. All attention snapped to him, and in greeting, he pulled out the solvent.

“��How long were you watching?” Miguel asked once he'd been fully freed from the wall.

“Pretty sure I heard you call my wife a sadist,” Peter answered cheerfully.

Miguel flushed. MJ laughed. Peter was incredibly in love with them both.

He did wish he'd gotten a turn, though... Maybe they could pencil it in next date night.

#tickling #spideysjane #pbm&ms #spiderparents #miguel o'hara #mary jane watson #peter b parker #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv #a tickly fic

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