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Peter sat criss-cross applesauce at the edge of the Golden Girls beach blanket - somewhere between Blanche and Sophia - fingers twisted in the hem of his hoodie like it was the only thing keeping the tide from swallowing him whole.
Get a handle on yourself, Parker. You’ve gone toe-to-tentacle with Doc Ock and turned Sandman into a glorified sandcastle. Are you squidding me? Why are you letting one little crop top make you sweat?
… Okay. Maybe it was Peter’s hoodie in the 90-degree heat that was making him sweat.
I mean, it was kind of a cute crop top. Peter had saved up for it—this perfect baby blue wonder with tiny white spiders printed across the fabric. And yeah, wearing it over his binder felt like the right kind of compromise. He couldn’t take his shirt off at the beach (not yet, maybe ever), but showing off a little midriff felt like a fair trade.
Only, Peter hadn’t realized just how much softer his tummy had gotten since last summer.
He was used to being the guy who got out of sticky situations—but this? This was a squishy situation.
(With his tummy.)
(Because it was squishy.)
Ah… crud. Maybe Peter wasn’t ready for this. His toes curled in the hot sand.
And then -thunk!-. A bottle of sunscreen plonked down beside Peter.
“Need a hand putting sunscreen on, Webs? I’m perfectly qualified for it. Nobody knows how to lotion those buns like I do.” Wade waggled his eyes and blew Peter a kiss. “Certified Peter Butt Technician. Ask about my references. You.”
He plopped down beside Peter on the blanket, all muscles and scars in his leopard-print bikini, gently nudging Peter with his knee.
…Oboy… Not the knee nudge. Peter wasn't getting out of this one easily.
Okay. Deep breath. It was just Wade.
“Well…” Peter stalled. Why couldn’t he have Wade’s confidence? Heck, why couldn’t he have Spider-Man’s confidence? He was literally a superhero. But sitting here in his hoodie, sweating buckets and afraid of showing a little tummy, he didn’t feel super-anything.
This was a sea pickle—a whole briny jar of one.
C’mon, Confidence Parker. You can do this.
He shrugged. “Might not need much. I might, uh… keep the hoodie on. At least for a bit.”
Okaaaay. Off to a slow start.
He added quickly, “I can help you with the lotion, though?” Nice save.
Wade sucked in a deep breath. “While I would lo-ho-ho-hove to take you up on that offer, Peetums, we’ve got a problem: you’re making your Sad Kitten Peter Face. And I cannot and will not enjoy beach-lube-me-up time with Sad Kitten Peter.”
“It’s just—” Peter sighed.
Go on, Parker. You can tell Wade. You can tell him anything.
“I wanted to take off my hoodie. I did. I felt good in it at home, y’know? Before that last mirror check, anyway. Then on the train, I couldn’t stop seeing my tummy in the windows and all these people with their flat stomachs like mine used to be… and now I’m here and my brain’s being loud and I just—”
“Deep breath, sweetheart,” Wade interjected gently. Then he added, “All these people are not Peter Parker. And I can say with full confidence that every single fucking one of them is irrelevant. You, on the other hand, are a perfect beach creature sent from the sun gods to destroy me with your bare midriff.”
Peter laughed. A smidge. Maybe.
"I'm just SAY-ing, Petey,” Wade went on, “I one-hundred-fucking-for-real-percent think right now today, you are the best Peter Parker that you've ever been, cute-as-hell-tummy-and-all. But more importantly than any of that, I just want you to be happy, baby.”
Peter sniffled a little. “Do… Do you really mean that?”
“I mean it like I mean your favorite merc muffin once got kicked off a beach for only wearing a crop top. True story.”
A little smile tugged at the corner of Peter’s mouth. "Ho-ly heck. Why do I believe that?"
“Because I’m a person of my word,” Wade said, matter-of-fact. “And the only kicking happening today is you kicking yourself in that sweet, luscious booty of yours for not letting that cute little midriff of yours out on the prowl.”
Wade laced their fingers together, gently squeezing Peter's hand. “I saw you in it, my baby blue, baby boy, with the white little spiders and adorable-do-me-now-tummy saying hell-oh. Petey, it deserves to be seen. You deserve to be seen.”
Peter’s chest fluttered. Maybe Wade was right. He’d saved up for this crop top, after all—it’d be a shame not to show it off a little. And yeah, maybe he’d gotten a bit caught up, focusing on all those silly flat stomachs... but there were plenty of other bellies at the beach. What was one more?
He didn’t know why he’d been bugging out.
Heh. Good one, Parker.
Maybe… he was ready.
“…Okay.” Peter nodded. “Crop top.”
"Yay!" Little hearts filled Wade’s eyes. "Don't you worry, sparkle-tummy-Petey-pie! You're not gonna regret this, and you're not gonna find another person who'll love seeing you in it as much as I do."
Wade popped up from the sand and extended his hand.
“Tell you what—let’s go slow. Real slow. A tummy tease.”
Peter slid his hand into Wade’s and rose to his feet—feeling steadier than he had all day. "Okay, okay," Peter said. "I'm ready."
Wade wiggled his fingers. “Hoodie off in 3… 2…”
Peter didn’t look.
Couldn’t look.
But then, he channeled his inner hero, stretching his arms out like he was mid-swing through the city, letting Wade glide the soft fleece off in one smooth motion.
Peter peered one eye open. “Oh.”
His crop top had ridden up several inches above the waistband of his swim trunks, belly peeking out, soft and freckled, and his cheeks flushed pink.
Geez and crackers.
He started to cross his arms over himself—
Wade raised a brow. "Nuh-uh." He uncrossed Peter’s arms and placed his hands on his hips like he was a goddamn model. “You don’t need to hide a single inch of that masterpiece.”
Peter bit his lip.
And then—the sun hit his skin. The wind tousled his hair. The breeze swept under the hem of his crop top, making the tiny hairs on his belly stand on end—and for once, it wasn’t because of danger. Peter felt... free. Something clicked. And suddenly, the crop top didn’t feel like a mistake.
“Jesus Christ on a jet ski.” Wade's brain short-circuited. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He hooked his hands around Peter's soft hips and dipped down into a gentle, sweet kiss that made Peter’s cheeks go pink all over again.
Then Peter was the one to lace their fingers together this time, letting whatever anxious thoughts that remained drift away on the sea breeze. He didn’t care what he looked like. Didn’t care if he looked different from how he used to. All that mattered was that he was wearing something that felt good—something he’d wanted to wear for a long time.
And he was here – with Wade.
And right now, that was everything.
“Mmfh!” Wade guided their intertwined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of Peter’s hand. “Hoo-boy, the tide’s not the only thing rising, my baby blue beauty.”
“Heh.” Peter fluttered his lashes. “Thanks for believing I could.”
“Aw, I always believe in you, baby blue baby boy." Wade swung their hands back and forth. “Now c’mon, sweetheart. Let me show you off to the seagulls.”