Mutual pining
‘Nat?’ Clint asks, without looking if she’s really there.
Natasha emerges from the shadow, like she meant to, not because Clint just outed her. ‘Clint. We have to do something about it.’
‘About what?’ Clint is restringing his bow.
‘About Peter and Harley.’
‘Oh. That.’ Clint looks a little green.
‘I figure torturing them isn’t an option?’
Clint shakes his head. ‘Nope.’
‘Embarrassing the truth out of them?’
‘Nah. They won’t forgive us.’
‘Should we ask Pepper for help?’
‘They’ll definitely won’t forgive that.’
‘Maybe we can stick them together in an elevator?’
Clint thinks about it. ‘Good one, but I’m afraid they’ll just manage to explode the damn thing.’
‘Okay. I’m out of ideas. I’ll just go do this-’
Natasha walks out of the room, a slightly worried Clint quickly following her to the labs. Peter and Harley are both there, working separately and glancing at each other annoyed every few seconds.
‘Parker. I need that.’ Harley gets up and tries to pry the insulated torx from Peter’s hand.
‘Hey! I’m working with that! Careful!’ Peter janks his hand back. ‘There’s a reason I use the insulated one, Keener. Don’t get your stupid ass fried.’
‘Don’t care. Need it, now.’
Peter stands. ‘Come fucking get it.’ His eyes flare up defiantly. Clint sighs. It’s been like this for as long as Harley entered their workplace. He doesn’t know Peter like this at all. Tony’s kind, friendly and ludicrously polite intern is never cross or angry. But somehow Harley brings out the worst in him.
Natasha strides over and grabs Peter’s ear. Clint laughs silently. ‘You. With me.’
Harley barks out a taunting laugh. ‘Yeah. Told you you should hand me the torx.’
Natasha glares at him, silencing him instantly. ‘You, with me too.’ And then she actually grabs his ear too, dragging both boys towards the archive cabinet. It’s a small room filled with drawers of ideas and technical drawings. She pushes them both in and slams the door behind them. ‘You stay there until you’ve sorted yourselves out. I’ll be waiting.’ The tiny grunt in her usually monotone voice shows Clint how angry she is.
The room sounds like it’s being broken apart. ‘What’s happening?’ Clint can’t help himself.
Natasha fixes him with a stare. ‘Let them sort this out themselves.’
‘Sorry.’
‘It’s Keener. He’s trying to break open the window.’ Peter sounds exasperated.
That makes Clint smile. That boy really thinks he can open the bolted, secured windows without tools. It won’t be for the lack of trying, he’s sure. And then his face falls. If anyone can hack Tony’s security it’ll be those two. The sound of Harley banging about almost drowns out Peter’s voice.
‘Please, Nat. I really want to finish my Christmas gift to Tony.’ Peter sounds pleadingly.
‘You know what to do then.’
‘Natasha!’ He sounds indignant, his voice raising at the last vowel.
‘Peter’. She mimics his voice. Clint laughs out loud now.
‘Nat.’ Peter’s voice is softer now, closer to the door. ‘Nat… you know I can’t do this.’ His choked-up voice pleads. Clint thinks he would’ve given in, but Natasha is tougher than he is.
‘I know it’s hard, Little Spider. But you can muster up that courage, I’m sure. Things won’t change if you don’t. They can’t get any worse.’
Clint is surprised by the softness in Natasha’s voice.
‘I- I’ll try, Nat.’
‘Good. Clint and I will be in the hallway.’
‘Want to wish me good luck?’
‘You don’t need it, Little Spider.’
‘Thank you, Nat.’
*
Peter hears the door open and close, indicating Clint and Natasha have left. Harley is still trying to break open the window. So far, he’s banged it with one of the cabinets, tried to fly-kick it out and just pummeled it with his fists. He’s now started to work on one of the drawers.
‘What are you doing?’ Peter asks.
Harley barely looks up. ‘You must be dafter than I thought, Parker.’
Peter sighs. ‘If I knew, I wouldn’t ask, would I?’
‘I’m fucking trying to make some tools with this drawer, okay?’ He sounds… off, somehow.
‘Harley?’
‘Only friends may call me Harley. It’s Keener to you.’ There’s not as much vitriol in his voice as usual. Peter watches his hands tremble.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘None of your fucking business, Parker. Now either help me or shut the fuck up.’ The trembling intensifies.
Peter walks closer. ‘We could-‘ He sits next to Harley, who eyes him angrily. ‘We could try and talk it out, this thing between us. You know she-‘, he jerks his head towards the door, ‘won’t let us go until we do.’
Harley’s hands keep trying to tear off some steel from the drawer, less unsure with every pull. Peter doesn’t know why he does it, but his hands cup Harley’s. Finally his hands still. Harley looks at their hands shocked.
‘What do you think you’re doing, Parker?’ Harley pulls his hands away as if he’s bitten.
‘I’m trying to calm you. There’s something off about you.’
‘You’re such a fucking goodie-two-shoes, Parker.’
‘Not the worst I’ve been called.’
‘I… I don’t do being locked up, okay? Brings out some fucking uncomfortable feels.’ He says the word like it’s something the dog left.
‘Want to talk about it?’
‘Why would you care?’
‘Harley-‘
‘Keener.’
‘Harley’, he stretches the word, letting him know he won’t back down.
‘Fine.’ Harley looks away angrily. ‘But don’t expect me to call ya Peter.’
‘We’ll see about that.’ Peter flashes Harley a toothy grin. ‘What do you need right now?’
‘I need to get out of here as fast as possible.’
‘Then we need to talk. Want to play twenty questions?’
Harley rolls his eyes. ‘Fiiiiiiine.’
Peter hides a snort. ‘Wanna go first?’
‘You start. Your idea.’
‘What is your favorite food?’
‘Couldn’t think of a good question, I see?’ Peter narrows his eyes at him. ‘Okay, okay. I like my mama’s meatloaf the best. Can’t get anything like that in this filthy hellhole of a city.’
‘I never had homecooked meatloaf. Haven’t eaten anything homecooked in years, for that matter.’
Harley looks shocked. ‘Rich folks always ordered in?’
‘No. I…’ He decides to go through with it. ‘My aunt… She couldn’t cook if her life depended on it. My uncle, he was the one to cook.’
‘Them divorced, or what?’
Peter closes his eyes for a moment. ‘He died.’
‘Oh.’ Harley is silent for a while. Peter likes how he doesn’t apologize or tries to fill the emptiness with platitudes. ‘What about your folks?’
‘They died too.’
Harley whistles. ‘Damn! That sucks.’
‘Your turn.’
‘Why do you hate me this much?’
‘Huh?’ Peter is genuinely surprised. ‘I hate yóu? I don’t hate you at all, Harley.’ He shakes his head. ‘You hate mé. You made that clear the very first day.’
Harley is silent for a while. ‘I don’t- I don’t hate you either, Parker.’
‘Then why…?’
‘Because you took my place. I… It’s terrible, but I hate how you’ve got Tony wrapped around your finger. At first I thought you were a cunning fucker, manipulating everyone around to like you.’
Peter waits for him to continue. When he doesn’t, he asks: ‘And now?’
‘Fucking hell, Parker. Now it’s even worse. You’re not doing anything on purpose. You just are kind, helpful and sweet.’
Peter looks sideways. ‘My, if I didn’t know better, that sounded like a compliment.’
Harley scoffs. ‘You wish, Parker. I hate it that everyone that knows the real you, loves you.’
Peter smirks. ‘Everyone? You too?’
Harley looks at him with an unreadable expression. ‘Everyone, Parker. And I hate that I fell into that trap too.’
Peter’s eyes flick to Harley’s. ‘What-‘
‘Don’t make me repeat it.’ Harley warns.
‘So… All this time, you were mean to me, to… I’m confused, Harley.’
‘Want me to spell it out?’ Harley’s voice trembles. ‘For fucks sake. It’s being trapped here with you that makes me fucking vulnerable.’ He rakes his hand through his hair.
‘Harley. Please. Do spell it out for me. So there is no room left for any doubt.’
‘Why? So you can use it against me later?’ There’s a hard edge to Harley’s voice.
‘I would never, Harley.’ Peter makes his voice as soft as possible.
‘I know… Fuck… Okay.’ Harley studies the floor with enormous interest. ‘I… like you, Peter.’
‘Hah! I knew you’d call me tha- wait… What?! Like me as like-like me?’
Yes, Peter.’ He sounds aggravated.
Peter mulls the knowledge in his head, trying to decide if Harley’s being serious. He decides he’s got nothing to lose. ‘There is a reason why you being mean to me hits me harder than all the Spider-Man hate out there.’
‘Because it hurts Tony?’
‘That too. But it’s because I… I think I like you too.’
Harley frowns. ‘This is just like you. Saying something to make someone else feel better. Aargh.’ He kicks the nearest cabinet. ‘Stop being such an annoyingly good person, Peter. You don’t even like guys.’
‘Why would you think that?’
‘MJ and you… you’re disgustingly sweet together.’
‘We’re not an item, Harley.’
‘But you don’t deny liking girls.’
Please, have mercy, Peter sighs silently. ‘Ask me. We’re doing twenty questions, don’t we?’
‘Are you straight?’
‘No. I’m not. Bisexual. You?‘
‘Bent like these cabinets, darling.’ Harley speaks the words confidently, but the confidence doesn’t reach his eyes.
‘Good. Then you won’t mind my next question. May I kiss you?’
Harley is quiet for a moment. ‘I… don’t mind.’
Peter turns his body towards Harley’s and carefully grabs his chin. ‘Sure?’
‘Fucking moralist.’ Harley presses his lips to Peter’s.
It feels good, kissing his chapped lips, but Peter feels he needs more. He doesn’t want to scare Harley off, though.
‘Pweter?’ Harley’s voice sounds muffled. ‘If you don’t tongue me, I’ll go tell Tony what Christmas gift you’re making for him.’ He feels Harley smile into his mouth.
‘You wouldn’t dare.’ Peter gasps.
Harley uses the moment to press his tongue in, taking Peter by surprise. He doesn’t take long though, and chases it with his own. The kiss turns dirty within seconds, and then the door rattles.
‘Kids, it’s getting too quiet. Nat and I are starting to worry one of you killed the o-‘ Clint sticks his head around the door, eyes widening at the sight. ‘Damn.’ He sticks his head back into the room. ‘Nat, bring me some bleach for the eyeballs. I did not need to see that.’
Harley grins. ‘Well, get used to it, arrow guy. I plan on doing that a lot more from now on.’
‘Nat? Please, kill me.’ Peter hears the fond exasperation in Clint’s voice. ‘We’ll have to get them bells around their necks, to warn us.’
Peter snorts. ‘A lot more, ey?’
‘Unless you don’t want that?’ Harley studies him, worry lines etched on his pretty face.
‘Don’t worry, Harley-baby.’
Harley gags at the nickname.
‘Too much? Light of my life? Spice to my latte? Insulation to my torx?’
Harley snorts. ‘Don’t you dare.’ Then the light turns off again.
Peter waves his arms quickly, but not quick enough, as Harley turns wax-like again. ‘Let’s get you out of here.’ Peter gets up and holds out his hand to Harley, pulling him up when he grabs them. Peter leans in and whispers: ‘then you can show me just what you want to do to me.’
Harley’s gaze turns desirous. ‘You have no idea.’ And fuck, doesn’t that liquify Peter’s limbs. Harley pulls Peter with him. He can barely keep up with him as they exit the room. His superhearing picks up Clint’s voice.
‘Nat, we probably have made this a million times worse.’
Nat sounds soft when she answers: ‘It was bad to start with, but at least they’ll be happier now.’
Peter smiles at her kind words, before his brain shuts off as Harley pushes him against a wall and snogs the living daylight out of him.