Chapter 1
“Uh, hey, Spidey?” Phantom questioned, refusing to meet Peter’s eyes.
They had been thrown into an alternate timeline, and they were thus far stuck. No one seemed to be coming to help them, and they couldn’t seem to get themselves back home. They had just made a fire in a little clearing in the forest they were stuck in, and they were sitting beside one another.
“Phantom, what is it?” Peter questioned, trying to catch his friend’s eye. Phantom avoided his gaze.
“I...I need your help with something,” Phantom said, softly. His voice trembled, and Peter was instantly more concerned.
“Anything, you know that. What do you need me to do?”
Phantom’s hands twisted in his lap, and he was silent for a moment.
“It’s, well, it’s really embarrassing. And, um, personal,” he murmured, his voice almost apologetic.
“Phantom, you’re worrying me. Come on, whatever it is, I can do it. Just talk to me!” Peter insisted, panic rising in his stomach. Phantom was acting like something was wrong.
“I need,” Phantom paused to take a deep breath, “I need you to groom my wings.” Phantom flinched when he was done speaking, as if afraid Peter would strike him for the request.
Peter, for his part, couldn’t help but be a little flabbergasted. He didn’t even know Phantom had wings. But he had to have a good response to this. For Phantom.
“Okay. I can do that. Just tell me what you need me to do,” Peter replied.
Now, Phantom finally looked up, meeting Peter’s eyes. Phantom’s eyes were glassy, like he was about to cry.
“Really?” he whispered.
“Yeah, of course,” Peter answered, gently.
Phantom swallowed and nodded.
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, I would never have asked, and usually Scar or Clockwork or Pandora does it, but they’re not here and if no one does it I get sick and...just, thank you,” he rambled, with an awkward chuckle at the end.
“You know, it’s pretty cool that you have wings. And anyway, like I said, I’m happy to help. Just talk me through it,” Peter said.
Phantom nodded, then looked around.
“Okay, okay, umm…” he mumbled, mostly to himself. Peter didn’t interrupt.
Phantom moved slowly, over to a clear patch of ground on the other side of the fire. He eyed it for a moment, then made some movements with his hands as if he were trying to measure it. He muttered to himself while he moved, though Peter didn’t pay attention. After a minute, Phantom nodded to himself, satisfied, and stood his ground.
“Okay, okay, uh, come on over here,” he called Peter.
Peter nodded and stood, walking over to Phantom. Peter stood next to Phantom, waiting for further instruction. Phantom looked down again, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I need you to, uh, turn around. I, um, I have to change. Sort of. Ghost equivalent, anyway,” Phantom requested, embarrassed.
“Right,” Peter agreed, turning around, a blush rising in his cheeks.
There were some shuffling noises behind him. A moment later, Phantom spoke.
“Okay, um, I’m not wearing a shirt, so you’re gonna be able to see my deathmark. Fair warning. Um, you can turn around now.”
Peter took a deep breath. “Don’t stare don’t stare don’t stare” running through his head on repeat. He turned to face Phantom and caught the vaguest glance of electrical scars running across his chest and arms, glowing green, before he locked his eyes onto Phantom’s face. Phantom rubbed the back of his neck again, then cleared his throat.
“Right. I’m gonna…” he gestured vaguely to the ground, then to his back.
“Okay,” Peter agreed, letting him not explain.
Phantom nodded and then lowered himself to the ground to lay on his stomach. Peter couldn’t tear his eyes from the scars on Phantom’s back, two long, parallel, glowing green lines. As he watched with morbid fascination, wings tore through the scars on Phantom’s back. Phantom made what sounded like a muffled whimper, as if it hurt terribly but he was trying not to make it obvious. Peter winced in sympathy. It looked like it would hurt. Soon enough, there was a pair of white gleaming wings laying across Phantom’s back. The wingspan was maybe a little past where Phantom’s fingertips would be if he T-posed. The wings curved upwards from the bottom and tapered into points at the ends. They were covered in white individual feathers, some of which looked ruffled or bent painfully. Phantom was breathing hard, his eyes closed. Peter was silent while he caught his breath.
“Okay, Spidey. Go ahead and sit beside me on my right side. Oh, and you’ll probably want to take your gloves off for this, if you can,” Phantom said after a moment.
“Okay,” Peter murmured, moving to do as he was told. He had recently had Tony change his suit so now he could actually pull the gloves off without undressing.
“Good,” Phantom said, then chuckled. “Okay, so you see the feathers that are bent out of shape and ruffled and stuff?”
“Yes.”
“Those are the problems. So what you need to do now is put your index finger right at the juncture between the wing and my back, right at the top, on the side closest to you.”
Peter reached out carefully and found the place where feathers met flesh and put his finger theore, right at the top. Phantom gasped when Peter touched him, and Peter’s first panicked thought was that he had hurt Phantom somehow.
“Are you okay?” Peter asked, voice tight.
Phantom let out a breathless half chuckle.
“Yeah. Sorry. Just surprised me. You’re warm. Really warm,” Phantom explained, his voice airy and breathless.
“Oh,” Peter said softly, not sure how to respond.
Phantom was, as always, freezing cold. Peter hadn’t considered how his normal human body temperature would feel to the ghost.
“Like I said, it’s fine. Just surprised. I’ve never had someone who isn't an ice ghost do this before. Usually, they’re the same temperature. Anyway. So now run your finger down that juncture, slowly, and you should feel a little bump. Almost like a knob, I guess. It’s about halfway down.”
Peter ran his finger down slowly, feeling along for what Phantom was describing. He felt it, and at the same time, Phantom let out a little half moan.
“Phantom?” Peter asked, voice rising.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Phantom gasped. “Just need a minute. Hold still.”
Peter was a statue while Phantom took deep, steady breaths. After a moment, the ghost relaxed.
“Sorry. Guess I didn’t mention, my wings are sensitive. Like, really sensitive. Not, in a bad way, though. You’re just, really warm. It feels...nice. I’ll, uh, I’ll probably make a lot of little noises like that. Just ignore them if you can. I promise if you’re hurting me, I’ll tell you.”
“Good. And, um, I’m glad it’s not...unpleasant,” Peter said, chuckling awkwardly.
“Yeah. Anyway, that little knobby you have your finger on? Remember where that is. Now, press on it. Gently,” Phantom instructed, voice collected.
Peter pressed the little bump gently. Phantom made a little whimpering noise in his throat that Peter just couldn’t ignore. At the same time, clear, oily fluid seeped out from around the juncture between Phantom’s back and his wing. Phantom was panting slightly again.
“Okay, that should have let out some clear...oil, I guess? We don’t really have a name for it. Clear, oily stuff. Yeah?” Phantom asked, breathlessly.
“Yeah. What do I do now?” Peter asked.
“Scoop some of it up on your fingers and just rub it along the feathers so they lay the right way. Some of the more messed up ones you might have to kind of pull and move around with your fingers. Don’t worry, you won’t hurt me. I mean, fixing those ones won’t be pleasant, but it’s not that bad,” Phantom assured.
“Okay. Just tell me if you want me to stop,” Peter agreed.
Hesitantly, he scooped up some of the thin liquid onto his fingers. He stroked down the feathers, starting in the upper left corner. Phantom moaned as Peter worked, but Peter didn’t say a word. Slowly, he worked his fingers over Phantom’s wings, going back periodically to scoop up more of the clear oil. Phantom made little noises that ranged from moans to whimpers, and Peter did his best not to react. When he looked over Phantom’s wings and saw no feather out of place, he spoke up.
“Is that...good?” Peter asked, uncertainly.
Phantom sighed contentedly.
“Very. That’s a whole lot better, actually. Thank you, so much,” he expressed sincerely.
Peter blushed under his mask. “Happy to help,” he replied.
Phantom chuckled, seeming relieved. “I really am grateful. Do you mind if I...leave them out? While we sleep? It hurts to sleep with them tucked away.”
“That’s fine, Phantom. Whatever helps. But could I...stay with you?” Peter asked, cautiously.
Phantom’s eyes crinkled as he grinned. The night was neither warm nor cold, but a happy middle ground. Peter had never slept in his full Spiderman suit before, and he already felt like he was going to overheat. He just knew he wasn’t quite ready to tell Phantom who he was under the mask yet.
“Of course you can,” Phantom answered, eyes sparkling.
He lifted a wing delicately, an invitation. Peter smiled, blushing furiously, and moved to lay next to Phantom. Once Peter was settled, Phantom gently lowered the wing to rest over Peter. It was cool, but not as icy as Phantom’s skin. Peter felt comfortably cool, cuddled up next to Phantom here, and he smiled to himself.
“Good night,” Phantom murmured.
“Good night,” Peter answered.