promisebreaker | musewrite Prompt Set 21

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musewrite Prompt Set 21

[damage]

Agony didn’t begin to describe how Peter was feeling right now. It hurt to breathe; it hurt to think about breathing, but it was almost over. He only had to remain conscious and moving a little while longer. Dr. Frost was immobilized, unconscious and wrapped up in enough web to stop a train, literally. The police were on their way; he could hear sirens wailing from a distance and the window in which he could get out of here was growing shorter by the second. His left shoulder was dislocated. He had known that from the moment it’d happened. With the assistance of his web and a still-standing-pillar, he pulled it back into place, biting off a scream as it popped back.

That taken care of, Peter dragged himself across the now empty space to where Bethel was just coming around. He’d been making an annoyance of himself in Dr. Frost’s eyes for two weeks. In an effort to shut him down, he’d found out about Bethel, kidnapped her and used her as bait. It had worked exactly as Dr. Frost had planned with one exception: Dr. Frost had seriously underestimated how dangerous it had been to motivate Peter. Once he’d crossed the space, he fell to his knees next to Bethel, pain radiating through his body, pain that he scarcely felt at the moment. He brushed a hand across Bethel’s forehead, smoothing her bangs back and smiled gratefully, genuinely. He was beat all to hell, Bethel was a little worse for the wear. She’d been drugged, tied up, threatened and kept in a room that was practically a walk-in freezer. Her lips were a little blue and he swore he could still see crystals of ice mixed in with her lashes, but they were both alive and she was responsive. She’d warm up and she’d be okay.

“Hey, Pretty Girl.” His voice grated painfully in his throat, funny how being throttled would do that to a person. “We’ve gotta get out of here. Police are on their way.” Bethel knew enough to know that if the police caught either of them here, there would be questions they couldn’t answer. “Think you can stand up?”

Bethel nodded, mumbling something that Peter didn’t catch. He slid an arm under her shoulders, grabbed her wrist and gingerly helped her to her feet. Once she was on her feet, they both hobbled in the direction of a plate glass window that’d been broken.

“I know you’re gonna hate this, but it’s the only way to get home.”

“Shut it. I just want to be home.”

It actually bolstered his spirits and gave him hope. If she was feeling well enough to tell him to shut it then she’d be okay. The pain was practically blinding when he picked her up. He literally saw black dots swimming in his vision. Bethel sort of clung bonelessly to him. He swayed on his feet, taking a moment to wrap some web around both of them, effectively papoosing her to his chest. It took strength he didn’t have to keep from dropping her, but with the web all he had to worry about was standing upright and she was still out of it enough that he hoped she didn’t realize just how badly he’d been beaten. The dark light in the partially destroyed twentieth floor of the OsCorp building aided him there. She couldn’t see his face well enough to tell it was a mass of purple bruising and caked with blood, a good deal of it his.

The only reason they made it back to the flat was because he could swing without effort all the way to their fire escape. Once there, he climbed through the window, severed the webbing holding them together and collapsed on the bed, laying Bethel down as carefully as possible then crumpling next to her. With one hand, he stroked her hair, murmuring over and over in quiet, rough whispers like a balm that could ease all of their pain.

“S’okay now. You’re okay.”

She had to be okay, because he couldn’t stand it if something happened to her. He was already struggling with guilt that weighed on him heavier than any physical damage. His promise to Chief Stacey rang in his ears. Arthur Tobias should have extracted the same sort of promise out of him and Peter should have honored it. Bethel would be safe and unharmed right now if he had. Chief Stacey had tried to tell him that he would hurt everything and everyone he touched, but he’d been young and optimistic. He hadn’t wanted to believe the man, but his words came back to him from the grave. He’d been right. Spiderman couldn’t have anyone in his life because it made the people he loved targets. It’d been proven to him time and again. This was just a repeat lesson that he hadn’t yet learned and it’d come at the price of Bethel’s safety, but he couldn’t bring himself to take any of it back.

He desperately hoped they could both live with the damage.

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Bethel read too much. That was what she had realized, tied up like a prize cow and tossed into a freezer like unwanted leftovers. She realized this as her fingers started to go numb and the drugs started to wear off on the first go. Just a trial run, he'd said. To see how much she could take. Bethel had stayed silent, running through scenarios like this in the books she read. Unfortunately, most of them ended badly. He'd dragged her out again when he realized she was awake, holding her up against the wall and hitting her so hard in the stomach that her vision went blurry and her knees crumpled beneath her. The he had drugged her again, more this time, and reminded her that she was only bait. She was only there because he wanted Spiderman. She was a worm on the line.

She could feel herself slipping away and part of her brain wondered how drug addicts did it, she didn't want to feel this, consciousness slipping away from her. Her body hit the ground with a thud when she was tossed back into the freezer, the impact making a sharp pain shoot across her chest and she wondered, deliriously, if she'd broken something.

The next thing she knew, she was being pulled out of the room. Her skin was so cold and sensitive that she almost screamed, but when her eyes fluttered open she could see that it was Peter so she relaxed, letting him be Spiderman while she tried to force her body to expel the drugs, trying to will them out of her system. Every once and a while, Peter said something during the fight and Bethel stirred, her body trying to fight against the drugs. Peter was in danger and it went against every fiber of her being to sit back and do nothing.

Eventually though it went silent and Peter came back for her, scooping her up and letting her lean on him as they headed towards the window. She didn't have much control over her body still, but her mind was mostly back, enough for her to snap at him. Nothing sounded better than home to her. Bed. Maybe a bath. Both. Or bed, Peter had chosen bed, that worked fine for her.

"I'm okay," she finally murmured back, her breathing a little shallow, something she had to make a conscious effort to correct. She was pretty sure she had a broken rib and she knew that could put her danger of a collapsed lung, something she had learned from a book. Something she truly wished she didn't know. That knowledge wiped out all the courage she needed to roll over, but she managed to turn her head, counting her breaths as she did so, making sure she was taking steady deep ones.

Her hand reached out, clumsy and still chilled, to touch Peter's cheek. "Are you okay?" He didn't look okay, which was terrifying enough for her breath to speed up again out of nervousness. "Please be okay."

Peter had chosen the bed because he wasn't sure he could stay on his feet long enough to get her to the bath tub. They both probably needed some cleaning up and maybe in a little while they'd have energy to do it, but right now the bed felt amazing.

It was an incredibly length of time, or so it felt like it, until Bethel actually spoke. Peter had been counting her breaths as well, making certain that she sounded okay. When she touched his cheek, her hand was so cold it scared him for a moment. He reached up and put his hand on top of it to warm it with his body heat.

"I'm okay." He looked and sounded a little like ground meat, but he was okay. Relief that she was well enough to assure him, and ask about him, flooded his eyes with tears. "I'm so sorry. I should've--" he couldn't finish that sentence because he didn't know what he should've done to keep her safe. Not provoking Frost hadn't been an issue. He was killing people, freezing them solid from the inside out. "I'm so sorry."

He leaned forward, wincing slightly to press a kiss to her forehead.

"Shush," Bethel murmured, her eyes closing again because the light was too bright, making her head hurt, and the sight of Peter looking so sad was too much for her to bear. "You've nothing to apologize for. You saved me."

It was that simple to her. If Frost hadn't taken her, he would have taken someone else and maybe they wouldn't have been able to cope as well as Bethel. She liked to think that she'd done admirably, at least prolonging some of his plan until Peter could get there. She knew what she was getting into when she'd found out he was Spiderman, at least she thought she had, and she'd accepted it, moving forward. Now, with the reality of the danger staring her in the face, she knew she wouldn't have made a different decision. She loved Peter. Spiderman was part of the package and she wouldn't change it.

It didn't mean she had to like that fact all the time.

"I wish you didn't have to," she added, her voice soft and tired. "Save me I mean. Not 'cause..." She paused, taking a moment to sort out her breathing again, not continuing until it was back to that slow and steady pattern. "Not 'cause I was in danger, but 'cause you, you shouldn't have to. 's not fair to put all that on you. 'cause you're just one person. 's not fair."

She doubted she was making sense. It was hard for her to articulate that she didn't think the weight Peter carried was fair to him. Just because he had those powers, didn't mean people should constantly depend on him to fix things for them. He did so much, so often, and he shouldn't have had to. Bethel read the newspapers, when he did take the day off, or let someone else take care of it, the people were merciless. Where was Spiderman? Why didn't he save the day? Because he was only human, because he needed to rest, because he had a life and he should be allowed to live it. Bethel hated that, but she couldn't figure out how to explain it.

His fingers kept up their litany, moving through her hair slowly and carefully as he listened to her. His eyes were closed for the same reason her eyes were closed. There wasn't that much light in the room but it was bright enough that it hurt his head. Besides, it was easier to talk about this without looking at Bethel and how exhausted she looked.

"If a person can do good things for people, he has the moral obligation to do those things." He sounded exhausted, but he also sounded committed to those words. "It's one of the last things Uncle Ben told me. It's what my father believed. I can help, so I have to."

He understood and there were times he hated being Spiderman. He wanted to go back to a time when he was just Peter Parker, nerd extraordinare. He could have a life without constant scrutiny and criticism if he weren't Spiderman, but if he weren't Spiderman, there would be so many people hurting or dead. He did good and he knew it. It was one reason he kept doing it. New York City was a better place to live in with him there and he liked to think that Uncle Ben and his father were proud of him.

"Not at the expense of his own life," Bethel protested, her voice quiet but fierce. She would never bad mouth his uncle or his father, everything that had been had helped make Peter into who he was and she was forever grateful for that. But this was one of those time she was going to have to disagree with them. She believed Peter could do good, she knew he could, she knew the majority of the city slept better knowing he was around, keeping them safe.

She wasn't one of them, if only because she slept horribly when Peter wasn't around.

"Spiderman has a moral obligation to Peter Parker, too. You deserve to have a life. You'd give everyone else that, but not yourself. The city coped before you, Peter, if they don't learn to cope with Spiderman around, what are they gonna do when you're... when..." Bethel whimpered, the idea of Peter being gone making her chest tighten and her eyes squeeze shut against unbidden tears. "What're they going to do when Spiderman isn't around anymore?"

It wasn't that Bethel wanted him to stop being Spiderman, she would never ask him to do that, it would never even occur to her, that she even had the right to ask. But sometimes, sometimes she wished he would take a break, do something for himself, let the city learn how to take care of itself again. Pain was part of life, New York seemed to take that for granted.

"No," Peter agreed quietly. He knew neither Uncle Ben or his father would want him dead. "But what makes my life more important than theirs?"

It hurt to move closer but he needed to have her near, tucked up against him if he was going to talk about this. He very carefully pulled her against him, the arm he'd dislocated earlier draped gingerly across her body. He bowed his head, nose and lips brushing against the crown of her hair.

"The night Uncle Ben died, we fought. I'd forgotten to pick up Aunt Mae. I ran out of the house. It was late and...I needed some space to deal with everything that was happening. I'd just been bitten by the spider and I was trying to deal with that and find out more and this guy...this brilliant scientist was helping me. I was helping him figure out how to blend human and animal DNA so that he could use their regenerative properties, the way lizards regrow their tails when they're snapped off. I just...forgot and she had to walk home and Uncle Ben was so angry."

He paused, held his breath and attempting to collect himself so he could go on. He hadn't told anyone about this in a very long time.

"I stopped at this stupid convenience store and I was going to buy a carton of chocolate milk. I was two pennies short. They had pennies in that give a penny take a penny thing but the guy at register was a jerk. He wouldn't let me take two pennies and he wouldn't let me have the milk. I tried to just get him to give me the milk. It was two pennies. He said...he said 'it's not my policy' This other guy was in the store. I guess right after I walked out, he held the store up. He didn't shoot the guy. He just took the money, walked out of the store and when he was leaving he tossed me my chocolate milk."

Peter was choked with emotion, struggling to breathe properly. Everything still hurt, but he was past feeling that pain. The only thing that really hurt right now was the event he was talking about: Uncle Ben's death.

"The clerk ran out the door after the thief and yelled at me to go catch him. I said...'it's not my policy' opened my milk and started walking down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. A couple of seconds later...I heard a gun shot and I just...I ran toward it. Uncle Ben hadn't stayed home the way I thought he would. He'd come out looking for me and when he saw the guy that robbed the store running, he tried to stop him. He was shot. I got there too late to do anything because I wanted to stick it to the guy that wouldn't give me my stupid carton of chocolate milk."

At this point, tears were rolling down Peter's cheeks into Bethel's hair. "If I'd done the right thing, the good thing, Uncle Ben would be alive."

Now, no matter how many people he saved, how much good he did, it would never be enough because it would never bring his uncle back.

"Oh Peter." Bethel didn't interrupt while he spoke, fingers curling around his arm. It hurt, to hear the utter heartbreak in Peter's voice, the guilt in his words. She doubted if he would ever stop blaming himself, but the mere fact that he did made tears slip past her eyelashes.

When she was sure he was finished, she pushed up onto her elbow, ignoring the pain and the way her body screamed in protest. "What if you weren't Spiderman? You still might've gotten caught up in work and forgotten Aunt Mae, you still might've fought with Ben and because of who he was he still would have followed you. Or, or, what if you did try to stop that man and he simply shot you before moving on to Ben? Peter, you can't blame yourself for something that might've happened even if you weren't there."

She shifted again, brushing a finger across his cheek, scattering some of the tears. The ones on her own cheeks were forgotten. "Personally, I do think you're more important than most people and I don't think I'll ever be able to be objective on that because you're more important to me. Sure, you're Spiderman and that's great, I think it's probably great, but how does that make Peter Parker less important than everyone else. Ben, he, he raised you. Don't you think he would have wanted you to be safe and happy, even if you are Spiderman?"

"But I am Spiderman and that changes everything. Maybe I couldn't have stopped what happened to Uncle Ben, but I can stop that from happening to other people...I should do that. And I don't have a death wish. I don't want to get hurt. I don't want to die. I just don't want anyone else to either and I know i can't protect everyone. I just want to protect those that I can."

He made a noise of actual contentment when she brushed her finger against his cheek. "I can be both people and protect you and the city and have a life. I just have to figure out how." He'd been trying to figure out how to do that since he'd become Spiderman. There was progress, but there were also setbacks. He opened his eye to look at her, reaching up to cradle her chin in one hand, fingers along her cheek. "Just don't give up on me. I'll figure it out. I don't want to lose you, Bee."

"Why would you lose me?" It took a moment for Bethel to work that out in her mind, but when she did she narrowed her eyes at Peter. He didn't really think that she was just going to swan off because she'd been put in danger, did he? She was made of tougher stuff than that. Yes, it was terrifying, she hated every moment of what happened, but it wasn't Peter's fault that some megalomaniac weirdo had set his sights on her. Megalomaniacs were, by virtue of the word, maniacs.

"You are not going to lose me just because you happen to be bloody Spiderman, Parker. I will never give up on you, stupid."

He gave her time to come to her own conclusion, mostly because he didn't want to say the words out loud. He liked the idea of Bethel staying with him for the rest of their lives. He wanted them to grow old watching ridiculous British programmes on television. He wanted to have kids and grandkids with her. He didn't want his story with Bethel to end and fade away until they were both just stories each of them remembered. The thing was, he wasn't sure he could give up Spiderman, not after Uncle Ben and Chief Stacey and his own father. He could slow down. He could be more careful, but he couldn't just stop.

"I'm usually more careful than that," he assured her. He felt the need to assure her of that. "He just--he had you and it nearly drove me crazy. I had to get you out of there before he froze you." He hadn't thought; he hadn't planned or developed a strategy. He only had one mission: get Bethel out safe.

And then he decided she needed to hear one more thing. "I don't want to die, Bethel. I don't want to be killed doing something brave. I want to live. With you. I want to become a scientist and help people that way. I want to have kids and grand kids and I want to grow old with you sitting on that damn couch watching British TV." He paused a moment, breathing still slightly labored. "I love you."

Bethel would never ask him to not be Spiderman, he wouldn't be the silly, scrawny, amazing person she fell in love with if he wasn't Spiderman. She had accepted that. But it was still hard, to watch him leave and spend the rest of the night worrying he wouldn't come home. Even in her drugged state she had been more worried about him than herself.

"Peter, I love you too. And I, I want you to do all that, especially the parts that include me. And, I'm very, very, proud of what you do, I am, if I could tell people about it, you would realize because it's insane really, the amount of pride I have. I just, I worry. And I don't want you to miss out on any of those things because you think that Spiderman is more important than the man inside the suit."

Very gently, Bethel leaned over, wincing phenomenally at the pain in her ribs, to kiss him on the nose. It looked like it was the least damaged and she could bear to cause him more pain. "Do you think that you can stand up so I can get you cleaned off?"

That was like Bethel, to be worried about him and he loved that about her. The only comfort he could offer her was the knowledge that he wanted to come back safely more than anything else. He called her as often as he could when he was 'on his way home' to ask if she wanted eggs or milk or a candy bar, but mostly he was calling to let her know that he was okay so she didn't have to worry about him a minute longer than necessary. He couldn't always answer his phone, because sometimes he was in the middle of things. Although, he had answered once while he was in the process of wrapping the guy up in webbing. He'd glanced at the phone, told the guy to hold on a moment it was his girlfriend and he really needed to get it. He'd assured Bethel he was just wrapping things up and he'd be home in a minute.

"We'll have to get you a secret identity." So that she could shout it from the rooftops of course. "I'm not going to miss any of those things and thank you, for thinking I'm more important." Because Spiderman was seriously impressive. People wore Spiderman shirts and stuck up stickers in the subway.

He nodded. "Yeah. I need to look at you too, make sure you don't have any injuries that need a doctor."

He pushed himself up into a sitting position, gritting his teeth as he did and then scooted to the edge of the bed. Now came the hard part. he was actually contemplating crawling across the floor. That would be a little over dramatic. He pushed himself up to his feet using the nightstand. Once he was up, it was easier to move, limping across the bedroom toward the bathroom.

"Okay. I'm good."

Peter Parker was way more impressive than Spiderman, in Bethel's opinion. Besides, Spiderman didn't have his name carved into the coffee table, that definitely said Peter + Bethel = ∞.

"You're welcome, and I'm fine, just sore. Here, let me help." She moved over to him, pulling his arm over her shoulder and putting her arm around his waist. She didn't know if he really needed the help, but she wanted to be close to him. Her ribs did hurt, but it had turned into a dull throb as she started to warm up so she doubted it was that bad, and didn't broken ribs start to hurt once the shock had warn off? See, she was fine.

Once they were actually in the bathroom though, Bethel stepped back into the shower, taking Peter with her, and turning the hot water on full blast. She didn't even bother to take her clothes off, they were filthy, once the blood and grime washed away they could climb in the tub. She reached up to tug at Peter's suit. "Let me see, please."

True and that was more impressive than anything Spiderman had done.

He needed her help. That much was obvious when he leaned some of his weight on her. He'd wretched his knee at some point and the place he'd been shot a couple of years ago on his leg felt like it was fire. The suit had protected him from any sort of freezer burn and he was more durable because of his spider DNA but he'd hit a lot of concrete walls and gone out a window at one point so he was sore. He should have gone in there smarter, but he'd panicked when he'd found out he had Bethel.

He nodded at her plea, turning his back to her so she could unzip the suit. "Just...it looks worse than it feels." He didn't know how it looked, but he knew if it looked half as bad as it felt, she was going to get upset. He felt like one solid bruise, and he was certain he looked like it as well."

It would be good to get out of the suit anyway. It was stuck to his skin in some places. It probably stunk and it was flithy.

Bethel tried to be gentle as she peeled the suit down. The warm water helped on the spots that seemed stuck and she tried to go slowly as to not hurt him any more. She very much hoped that it looked worse than it felt, because it looked... bad. Even the marks on her wrists, which looked so bad to her, just paled in comparison. "Oh Peter."

She stopped at his hips, her hands resting lightly against his skin. She was sure that her hands were still cold because the hot water felt like burning, like putting you hands to a warm mug after playing in the snow all day, but maybe that would be good. Ice was good for injuries.

After a moment, she knelt down and tugged the suit the rest of the way off, careful not to jar the leg he was obviously trying to put the least amount of weight on. She kicked the suit into the corner as she stood up, trying not to look at the little rivers of dirt and blood heading towards the drain. Her own clothes were forgotten for the moment as she took in all the marks on Peter.

Now would be one of those times she really wasn't fond of this superhero gig.

Peter assumed Dr. Frost had been more careful with Bethel because she was bait. He needed her in good shape to get Peter to come after him on his turf. It had worked like a charm.

"it's okay." His response was quick. He didn't want her to worry more than she already was worrying. "I told you, it looks worse than it feels. Promise." Her hands were cold. They made him shiver at first contact, but he was glad to have them on his skin simply because it meant she was there and she was safe. It also meant she was still a lot colder than she ought to be. "This is good. It'll warm you up."

If he hadn't been dealing with the knee that had twisted and the old bullet wound, he would have been fine, but combined they were shooting pain from his hip down to his toes. Once the suit was off, he sort of relaxed, leaning against the shower wall and letting the water wash all the dirt and blood away. He looked over at her.

"Come on, let's get your clothes off so we can both get in the tub and warm you up."

Once he was against the shower wall, he could reach out and help her get clothes off, moving a little slower and more gingerly than usual, but he really did want to check and see how she was doing.

Bethel let Peter tug her shirt over her head, smiling a little as her unhooked her bra when she went to take her jeans off. "Always trying to get my clothes off, aren't you?" Once her clothes her piled in the corner with his, she leaned back a little, letting the shower wash the grime out of her hair.

"I'll start the bath." She stepped out of the shower, tiptoing across the floor as if it would make her drip less, and turning the tub on, tossing a purple bath bomb into it, the relaxing scent of lavender filling the room. She grabbed a bottle of tylenol off the counter and shook a few into her hand, popping two in her mouth before bringing the rest to Peter.

The idea of drugs in her system after being drugged made her shudder, but she was 90% sure that a couple aspirin wouldn't kill her.

That last 10% was pretty sure it would, because wouldn't that be just like a megalomaniac weirdo, drug her up with something that reacted violently to tylenol.

She ignored that 10% as she stepped back under the stream of the shower. She was not going to be murdered by tylenol, thank you.

The light hearted flirting helped. It was very Bethel of her and he desperately needed to know that she was okay. If she was flirting with him, it was a good sign that she was okay.

"I'm pretty sure no one would blame me." His voice was still hoarse, but it sounded a little better. When she leaned back against the shower wall, he took a step closer, reaching out to ghost his fingers between her breasts, up over her collarbone and coming to rest above her heart. HIs hand fell away after a moment of feeling her heart beat beneath his hand.

While she was out starting the tub and getting tylenol, he washed his hair quickly and let the soap residue slide down his body. He took the Tylenol from Bethel, shook three out and popped them in his mouth, dry swallowing them.

All in all, Bethel figured she was fine. Sure, she was sore and parts of her hurt, but physically she knew she would be fine. Mentally and emotionally, that might be another story, one she was choosing to ignore for the moment.

"Mmm, probably not. Tell me when the bath is full?" She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the spray, letting the shower wash away the residue of tears and streaked make up, too lazy to do anything else. After a bit, she took a couple steps forward, eyes still closed, until she found Peter, standing on her tiptoes to rest her chin on his shoulder, looping her arms around his shoulders loosely. "I love you, nerd."

Peter was already fairly certain they'd be in for a lot of long nights. He'd probably end up walking her a lot of places and fielding a number of phone calls. He didn't mind. He'd help her deal with the mental and emotional ramifications however possible. He'd even stay home a little more if necessary.

He pressed a kiss to her wet cheek. "I know. I love you too, Pretty Girl."

He glanced around the shower door. "Tub is full. Normally I'd carry you there, but I think we're both better off moving slowly."

Bethel didn't want to move. She felt perfectly, wonderfully safe and at peace right there, with Peter next to her. She let go unwillingly, shutting the shower off before stepping out into the bathroom and doing the same to the taps on the tub. She perched on the edge of the tub, having moved faster than Peter.

"Do you need help again?" She was going to help him climb into the tub, but she didn't know if it would be an affront to his manly pride if she helped him over to it.

He'd make sure she felt safe and at peace in the tub too. It was better she get in the tub though. It would warm her up and it'd be good for both of them and their soreness.

"Sorry," he gave her a sheepish look. "It'd probably be faster." Peter didn't really have a lot of manly pride, at least as long as his manliness wasn't being called into question and he knew Bethel wasn't going to call it into question.

Bethel smiled, a little lopsided, but that look was too precious. She slipped off the tub and padded back over to him, her arm circling his waist. "Getting old, are we Mr Parker?"

She might not call his manliness into question, but she would always tease him.

"Hey, just take note. This is what's in store for you when I do get old." He put his arm around her shoulders, leaning a little of his weight on her as they made their way over to the tub. "I'll be crippled and stiff from years of Spiderman stuff. I'll refuse to use a walker because I have a Bethel."

The teasing was good. He sort of perched on the edge of the tub when they reached it and half slid, half lowered himself in, letting out a groan of total awesome pleasure when he was submerged in the water.

"Much better." He held his hand out for her to take and get into the tub with him.

"Clearly I'll abscond with some other superhero, if that is the case. I'm sure Iron Man will have some openings." Bethel said it as if she'd given it a lot of thought, even though she'd just plucked Iron Man out of thin air.

She made sure he was all set before climbing in, it would be bad if his legs decided to stop working and he sank and drowned. In the tub. That would be bad. The bath would be quarantined, like a crime scene, it could take ages before she could use it again.

Climbing in basically turned her legs to jelly and she slipped, landing with a whimper, her legs draped across Peter's lap. It would have been sexy if it were planned. "It's okay," she muttered.

musewrite Prompt Set 21

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