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Ned opens the door with a look of complete exhaustion, barely perking up when he sees the armful of overly expensive snacks in his friend’s arms.
There’s only one thing that can deflate a perpetual bubble of positivity like Ned.
His roommates.
“Out of the way, Sam Spade,” Flash says as he barges past his sullen friend. Betty is hot on his heels, dropping a kiss to Ned’s cheek before making herself busy in the kitchen, packing away beer bottles into the tiny fridge. Undeterred by the unusual vibe of the apartment, Flash heads straight for the coffee table, where he dramatically opens his arms and lets the snacks fall where they may—most landing on the carpeted floor.
Ned falls into his armchair heavily, an open beer already in his hands. A door slams somewhere in the apartment, making the guests jump; Ned just drains half the bottle in one go.
Peter appears from the hallway, cheeks flushed. Flash gives him a strange look as he actually accepts the high-five offered as a greeting, which further narrows as Michelle storms into the living space with her arms crossed.
“Hey, Michelle, found any—”
“Pick your shit up, Eugene.” Michelle points to the mess he’s made. Betty pats her friend’s shoulder and presses a beer into the accusing hand instead. Whirling around, Michelle begins to yell once more. “And that’s another thing! It’s been two days and you still haven’t cleared up the mess on the bathroom floor!”
“I told you already; I ordered the stain remover! You’re the one who didn’t accept the package!”
“Hey, Betty,” Flash whispers, jutting out his chin in the direction of the growing disaster in front of them. Betty barely glances his way, too engrossed. “What’s up with those two? Trouble in paradise?”
Betty leans towards him, the thrill of recapping the situation splitting her attention. “They had a bet on who Ned loves more, which somehow turned into seeing how much Ned will take before he yells at them.”
Michelle throws a book—everyone in the room flinches, because Michelle throwing books?! - and it collides with the wall behind Peter, who explodes into a, “Are you crazy?! You nearly hit me!” and Michelle rolling her eyes and telling him to calm down, there’s no way her aim is that good.
“How long has this been going on for?”
“Four days.” Betty’s eyes drink in the scene, a wicked smile turning up her usually pursed lips. “Thing is, Ned yelled at them both two days ago. Now, this is just about the tension.”
Everyone knows about the tension between Peter and Michelle, but no one more than the friends that have had to put up with it since high school. They’d even had bets of their own, in the beginning, trying to guess when the pair would get their heads out of their asses and give in to the feelings that undoubtedly crackle between them. Once or twice, there had even been conscious efforts to trick them into confessing.
But every time, they refused to follow the script. Michelle would figure it out, or Peter would lose his nerve, and they’d spend a week not talking to any of them before instructing them to drop it; they were friends, nothing more, blah blah blah... Flash usually tuned out after a few seconds.
Once high school had finished and they were into their first year of college, it just became a pain. They’re both stubborn, blind to what’s right in front of them, and the friend group stopped anticipating the inevitable ending to this. Instead, they started to dread what this will-they-won’t-they dance would do to their friend group at large.
But this? Here and now? This is a whole new territory. Instead of shying away, they’re daring each other to step out of line, to make the first move that will send them crashing through that ‘just friends’ wall they’ve built to be 6 feet deep with cast iron.
“Oh, damn.” Flash reaches forward for the forgotten popcorn, tucking it between his and Betty’s legs as they make themselves comfortable. “This is gonna be good.”
***
Ultimately, Flash is left disappointed. The pair only argue for a few more minutes before Peter storms out of the apartment, Michelle’s “Fuck you, Peter Parker!” the final nail in the coffin as the door slams behind him.
“You should, you know,” Flash says despite Betty’s punch to the shoulder.
Michelle’s still facing the closed door, shoulders so tense they are nearing her ears. “Should what?”
“Fuck him.”
“Holy shit,” Ned whispers as Michelle spins on the spot with murder in her eyes, only slightly cloaked by the tell-tale wetness lingering there.
“Shut the fuck up, Eugene, before I tell everyone about your Spider-Man self-insert series on Twitter.”
“Hey, I got eighteen hits on that yesterday!” he calls after her as she rushes into her room. He turns to Betty and Ned, who are staring at him, perplexed. “Last time I let her get me drunk during a game of Truth or Dare.”
“Flash,” Betty scolds, punching him once again - he rubs at the bruising spot with a pout. “Are you trying to make things worse?! We swore an oath to stop interfering after the—”
“—the Lasagna Incident, yeah yeah, I know. I’m the one who dealt with the fire department.” Flash shrugs. “She was only going to go and sulk, anyway. Might as well sulk and think about screwing Parker.”
“Pretty sure she’s just plotting the best place to hide your body so it’ll never be found,” Betty snarks. “And it’s MJ, so you know she’ll succeed.”
Flash rolls his eyes and kicks his feet up on the coffee table, opening a chip packet so violently that crumbs scatter onto the cushions around him. “Whatever, Brant. Just you wait; this time, it’s going to work.”
Flash wakes up to a pounding on his front door in the early hours of the following morning. The door opens to reveal Ned as his disrupter, clutching a hold-all and his favourite pillow.
“This is your fault,” is all he says as he bumps his shoulder on the way past. It takes a moment, but then Flash grins and rushes back to his room, ignoring his sudden guest in favour of his phone.
She won’t respond until the morning, he’s sure, too busy for the rest of the night, but he can sense it in the universe anyway. Who knows, maybe she’ll finally stop calling him Eugene in recompense?
You’re welcome, Jones.
He’s smug as he walks back out to Ned, ready to rub it in his friend’s face that he’s achieved what they all failed at for years.
Except Ned is also looking at his phone, and when Flash asks what suddenly has him so amused, Ned asks, “Any chance you’ve checked your Twitter in the last hour?”