_{Movie-verse. Not quite sure when in the timeline this would actually have happened, though. *hands waves it with fic-magic*}

The soapy water makes Dave hiss in pain as it pours down over the graze-marks on his back. The sponge held in Red Mist's hand is barely touching his flesh as he helps to wash the blood and dirt away, but it still hurts. Coming in from a night of fighting crime always hurts.

The shower sprinkles down upon them, as light as they could make it go. He really hopes his dad doesn't come home any time soon: he doesn't want to have to explain why he's showering with another guy. He doesn't think he can even explain it to himself.

They're both still wearing their masks if nothing else (that's the good thing about having a scuba suit as your costume) in a last-ditch attempt at concealing their identities from each other. Dave isn't too sure why he's bothering, actually. Red Mist is on his side: they're heroes, both of them. Why shouldn't they know each other's true identities? True names, even.

He hisses against when Red Mist brushes the sponge against his wounds once more. "Are you okay?" Red Mist asks. He even manages to sound concerned, and Dave smiles.

He nods. "It hurts a little," he confesses, which is kind of the biggest understatement in the world. Even with damaged nerves, this stings. If he could feel like other people, it might be even worse.

"Sorry," Red Mist says, before Dave feels the ghost of his lips at the crook where his shoulder means his neck. Red Mist presses a kiss against his skin, gentle but lingering.

Dave barely breathes for a few moments. He's pretty sure that superheroes aren't supposed to kiss each other - at least not in the kind of comics that he reads.

Then again, Batman and Robin were always pretty close. And what about Captain America and Iron Man?

Generally speaking, superheroes aren't supposed to shower together either, but it had seemed like a good idea when Red Mist had pointed out that he wouldn't be able to clean his back by himself. Feet splashing in the water at the bottom of the shower, Dave turns around. He can see the nerves on Red Mist's face, the fear in his eyes despite the way they are hidden behind his wet, black mask.

"I shouldn't have done that. Sorry. You're just- you're kind of cool. We both are, I mean."

Dave has never been cool in his life. He gets the feeling that this guy hasn't either: cool guys don't dress up in weird outfits and run around town beating people up. They're too busy going to parties and getting drunk and hooking up.

They're not cool. They're something else.

"It's okay," he says. "I didn't mind it."

Red Mist starts to grin, uncertainly as if he isn't sure whether or not to do it, whether he can believe him. "Awesome." He pauses for a second, water dripping down their skin, before he says, "So, can I do it again?"

And Dave is, like, in love with Katie. But she thinks he's gay, and now he's kind of starting to think maybe she's not 100% wrong about that.

He nods, barely aware of himself doing it.

A fraction of a second later, he has his first Big Gay Kiss.

It's kind of awkward, with his wet scuba mask restricting them, but that works. He likes it. Red Mist's mouth is uncertain when he kisses him, and Dave thinks this is a first for both of them. They're clumsy and uncertain, pushing and licking just to see what works and what doesn't. Dave can feel Red Mist's body flush up against him, his skin hot even in contrast to the warm shower.

They are unsteady at first, neither one too sure what they're doing, but it isn't long before Red Mist takes over, harder, harsher, faster. His hands press against Dave's chest and he shoves him back against the cold tiles, pinning him there.

"Fuck," Dave hisses. "Shit, that hurts."

His back is aching, raw wounds pressed hard against the wall.