Peter is Stronk
“It’s only a model—”
“Shh!”
The song started, with Tim and Peter both singing along under their breath as they worked in the lab. Peter was testing what Steph referred to as ‘wrist cum’ (her words, not Peters), while Tim was testing the sample of the venom they managed to extract from Peter’s fangs. It was a weird day, and their favorite movie made everything better. Plus, using the Batcomputer to watch movies just felt so right.
“We do routines with chorus scenes and footwork impeccable!” Peter mumbled, squinting at the sample through the microscope.
Meanwhile, Steph grinned maniacally, flipping the welder’s helmet down over her face and starting the blowtorch. She blasted the strand of web for a good ten seconds, before lifting it and gawking at Peter. Steph grabbed the back of Peter’s office chair and wheeled him away from the microscope, ignoring his protests. “Dude! Check it!”
Peter poked his web carefully. Not a lick of heat remained, and it was none the weaker. If anything, it felt… almost stronger than before Steph had blasted it? “What the fuck?” Peter whispered.
“I know, right?” Steph exclaimed. “This shit is bananas! B-a-n-a-n-a-s!”
“What is?” Tim asked, jogging over.
“Dude, Peter’s wrist cum is crazy strong!”
Peter willed himself to vanish into thin air. Strangely enough, it didn’t work, so he just sighed in resignation. “Please don’t call it that, Steph. It’s a—”
“—sophisticated protein composed of amino acid chains that mimic spider silk, I know. Wrist cum is just more fun to say!”
Peter groaned, his face on fire. Something beeped, and Tim rushed back over to his tests. He held up two test tubes to the light, turning and grinning at Peter. “I think we have an antivenom!”
Peter’s face split into a big grin. “Great!”
“Luckily, it was similar enough to rattlesnake venom and black widow venom that we were just able to synthesize something similar to what’s already been created.” Tim set the tubes back on the test tube rack and was met with an armful of Peter, who picked him up and spun him around before setting him back down.
“That’s great! Okay, I think that’s all the tests we can do tonight, right?” Peter asked.
Tim made a so-so gesture with his hand, shrugging. “Eh, there’s one more we could do.”
“And what’s that?”
“We could see if the amount you’re able to bench has changed.”
Peter considered this and checked the time. “We’ve still got a couple hours before patrol. Show me what you got.”
“Are you doing okay under there?” Tim asked, biting his lip nervously.
Tim’s beloved boyfriend was currently lifting ten tons, his previously believed limit. “Just peachy,” Peter huffed. “Add another ton.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I am.”
Tim watched nervously as the robotic arms added another ton to the load, making Peter grunt. Despite his clear struggle, Peter requested another ton be added on, and Tim did as he asked. This continued until Peter was at fifteen tons, and while Tim would be turned on, if not for the fact that he was incredibly worried about his boyfriend’s limits. “Okay,” Peter finally said. “I think that’s enough.”
Tim exhaled, pressing the button that raised the weight off of Peter’s shoulders. Peter grinned triumphantly at Tim, who made his way over to him. Despite sweating buckets (his white t-shirt was soaked with sweat and clinging to Peter in a way that had Tim sweating, but for entirely different reasons…), Peter was beaming. “Dude, I can go to fifteen tons now! And maybe if I keep working out, I can get that number even higher!”
“If you say so. Babe, I’m all for the power of doing anything you put your mind to, I just hope you don’t kill yourself in the process, you know?”
Peter’s smile softened, and he hugged Tim from behind, resting his chin on Tim’s shoulder. “I’ll be careful.”
“Okay.”
And thus began Peter’s unspoken campaign to make Tim lose his mind.
It started with Bane. Red Robin and Spider-Man had just soundly beaten the guy, the two moving and swinging around each other like a finely-tuned machine. Bane was passed out, and the cops had arrived. Peter was slowly warming up to the cops here after an introduction to Commissioner Gordon, though it was clear he only trusted Gordon and no one else. Just like the rest of the Bats, Tim thought fondly.
The only problem with an unconscious Bane was that the man was a 6’8” behemoth weighing in at about 350 lbs or 159 kilos, if you wanted to use the better measurement system. Normally, he took at least two guards to be able to maneuver him into the prison transport vehicle, but Peter had easily gotten the limp, heavy man into the vehicle with no problem. If Tim’s blush was visible, the commissioner was kind enough not to mention it.
Next, it was when Tim was working on his beloved Redbird. The alternator needed replacing, and Tim had just begun the process of lifting the car with the hydraulic car jack he kept in the garage. Peter opened the garage door and poked his head through, asking, “Need some help?”
“I thought you weren’t a car guy?”
“Oh, I’m not, but I might work better than the jack you’re using. Lower it back to the ground.”
Tim did so and Peter picked the front end of the car up like it was a large piece of paper, and Tim’s face turned a very specific shade of red. He thanked Peter and got to work, ignoring Peter’s shit-eating grin.
Tim had forgotten that he had a birdarang (as Dick had so kindly named them many years prior) in his back pocket and had left a gaping hole in the couch cushion. So, Tim had gone couch shopping the following weekend, and now he was staring at it as it sat outside of his apartment building. Sure, he could ask one of his brothers or sisters for help moving it, but they would be going upstairs and moving large things with your family was stress-inducing. So, he was going to have to tackle this on his own. His phone buzzed, startling him out of his ponderings.
Peter: you still cool if i come over tonight?
Tim: Yeah, sure. I might be in the middle of trying to move a couch up to the Nest though
Peter: …super strength, remember?
Tim blinked. Oh yeah.
Peter: b there in a moment
So Peter and Tim carried it up to Tim’s apartment, with Tim trying to shake off the brain death that comes with a hot person doing something attractive the whole time. Peter’s smug little grin didn’t help anything, and Tim tried to wipe that little smirk off by kissing him soundly afterwards. It didn’t help. If anything, it just made Peter’s smirk more pronounced.
Tim might have been a bit of a mess, but he was a neat freak. Everything had a place and everything had a purpose. Filing cabinets were his best friend, and it was hard to maintain focus in a dirty environment. So, he cleaned his apartment weekly. Basic stuff, like dishes, dusting, vacuuming, the works. Monthly, however, he had a deep cleaning checklist, and on that checklist was vacuuming behind furniture. Luckily, a little voice reminded him that he could, in fact, ask for help.
Tim: Are you available?
Peter: yeah. they cancelled work tonight so i’m all yours :P
Tim: Would you be willing to help move some furniture for me?
Peter: hell yeah babe
Soon, Peter was helping Tim move more and more furniture, with Tim’s face getting a shade redder with every piece of furniture. By the end of it, Peter hadn’t even broken a sweat, while if Tim didn't know better, would be worried he might be developing a fever.
“How much longer are you going to do this?” Tim asked, lying naked in bed next to an equally naked Peter.
Peter smirked up at the ceiling. “Dude, as often as possible. Just about every time I do, we have crazy amazing sex afterwards, of course I’m going to keep doing it.”
Tim sighed. “Fair enough, I guess.”
Tim was pretty fed up. His boyfriend was hot, he was aware of this, but Peter seemed insistent on reminding Tim of it any chance they got. Tim was normally able to play if off, if his body didn’t betray him by blushing. Unfortunately, it did most of the time, much to Tim’s embarrassment. Steph was apparently pretty fed up (again) and pulled Tim aside. “Come on, buddy. You’re hot too, I should know, I have excellent taste in partners! You can fluster him too, it’s actually really fucking easy. I’ve got a plan, come on.”
Steph’s plans either were too successful, or spectacular failures. Tim hoped it would be the first.
“Peter, I need your boyfriend!” Steph shouted into the apartment.
Peter rounded the corner, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What for?”
“I need him to go clubbing with me. As great as your info from the Iceberg is, Penguin hangs out at his original club far more than he does his restaurant. No offense. And you can’t come with, cause they’ll likely remember one of their employees.”
Peter shrugged. “Fair enough. You want some dinner first?”
“How close is it to being ready?”
“I just started.”
“Perfect. By the time we’re done, it’ll be ready. We can eat and then go.”
Peter knocked and opened the door slightly, calling, “Dinner’s ready, you guys. Guys?”
Peter approached the bathroom, gently creaking the door open. Peter stopped and blinked. Then blinked again. Oh.
Tim stood up and spun around, smiling at Peter. “So, what do you think?”
Tim was wearing black skinny jeans ripped within an inch of their life, showing off Tim’s well-toned leg muscles. The sheer mesh tank top shirt he was wearing didn’t help anything, and a leather jacket topped the whole thing off.
Peter turned to a smirking Steph. “Are you okay with doing this tomorrow or something?”
“Sure,” Steph agreed. “Penguin’ll be there another night.”
Steph didn’t even get to try Peter’s cooking before she was being pushed out the door, a successful smirk etched in her features. Mission accomplished.