Chapter 2
Peter had felt like he was floating on clouds since Saturday. Harry! Harry was back! And in his life again!
He had more than one friend! Two best friends! He was doing pretty well for himself!
He and Harry had been texting every day, and between his texts and the usual ones from Ned, he felt like he almost had a social life or something. He had unlocked his phone and found four messages waiting on Monday. And only one was from May.
His spider-sense warned him a second before Ned’s head appeared over his shoulder, smiling like always.
“Mom said she’s not gonna be home tonight. I was gonna work on the CompSci flashcards MJ told me to learn, but no mom means no lights out, so… Battlefront?”
“Oh.” Peter stopped short, chemistry book still held to his chest. “Sorry, man, I can't do tonight. Maybe another day?”
He felt a little guilty, but Ned only looked a tiny bit disappointed, nodding anyway. “Yeah, maybe Friday? That way you can come over right after practice.”
“Friday works!”
Ned leaned closer. “Why not tonight, though? You got…?” He made the web-shooting motion.
Peter snorted. “Not like that. I'm still going out tonight, but I already made plans a few days ago. I'm meeting up with a friend today.”
“A--” Web shooter. “--friend?”
Peter shook his head, a bit more amusedly this time. “A regular friend, Ned. I haven't seen him in a while, so we've been trying to catch up.”
Ned wrinkled his nose. “Who? Since when do you have other friends?”
“Okay… ouch.” Peter tucked his book under one arm and turned to glare at him.
Ned put his hands up. “Yikes, sorry.”
“You don't know him,” Peter assured. “He left school the year before I met you. We grew up together.”
“Oh, nice!” Ned knocked their elbows together playfully. “You gonna introduce us? How come you've never mentioned him?”
Peter shrugged. He’d still been a tiny bit heartbroken from Harry when he’d met Ned, and then… Ben, and he’d just never gotten around to it. “You never asked,” he said instead.
“How was I supposed to ask if you had any mysterious friends I didn’t get told about?” Ned asked, so incredulous that a few pairs of eyes turned to land on them. Peter shoved Ned into the classroom, shushing as he forced him to their seats.
“Dude,” Ned whispered. Peter dutifully titled the top of the page in pencil, and started doodling to cover the fact that he wasn’t taking notes.
“Can I explain when we won’t get sent to the office for talking?” Peter whispered back, drawing a tiny smiley face on Ned’s paper that made the boy lean over and draw one back.
He was tempted to explain to Ned over text, but Ned had no poker face whatsoever and was also crap at hiding his phone. He'd gotten caught twice with him before he decided that was a terrible idea.
Pete: how was your meeting
Harry!!: Teleconference
Harry!!: And so boring you have no idea
Harry!!: I'll complain to you when I see you don't worry
Harry!!: Is it lunch?? You get out at four, right?
Harry!!: Do you want me to bring anything over when I come?
Pete: just you!! im gonna bring you the world’s finest sandwich so just show up
Pete: we can order in later
Harry!!: I'm skeptical
Pete: look, when i say best sandwich in queens? i mean it
Harry!!: I'll believe it when I taste it
Pete: prepare to eat your words
Pete: and the sandwich
Harry!!: I will lol
Pete: not lunch though its sixth period
Pete: i have one more and then decathlon
Harry!!: Nerd
Pete: homeschooler
Harry sent back a rude emoji and Peter pretended he was wiping his mouth with his sleeve to hide his snort.
Pete: i almost laughed im going to get my phone taken
Harry!!: I'll see you after school Pete
Pete: see you!!
Ned sent him a curious look, but Peter just kind of shrugged and put his phone away. He’d explain himself later.
Peter tossed the bag of sandwiches on the kitchen table as he got in the front door, running to his room. He'd cleaned it the night before, since Harry was coming over, but he still needed to make sure any… spidery things were out of sight.
He scrutinized the vent above his head, trying to judge if any red was visible. Deciding that no, it wasn't, he ran a quick check over the rest of his hiding places. The false bottom box in the closet was still safe under the other shoeboxes and a mound of laundry. Web fluid cartridges were still stowed in the back of his underwear drawer.
Peter let out a sigh of relief, head tipping unconsciously as he heard a familiar voice outside. He peered out his window and grinned when he saw Harry getting out of a black car.
He threw the window open and shoved his head out, cupping his hands around his mouth.
“Harry!”
Harry's head whipped up, green eyes scanning the side of the building until he spotted Peter. He waved, a drink carrier in his hands.
Peter pouted. He'd told him not to bring anything.
He held up a single finger and pointed to the doors.
“Buzz me in!” Harry hollered.
Peter scoffed, closing his window. What was going to buzz him in? A fly? Peter’s apartment building couldn’t even afford to fix the flickering lights in the hallway or fix the dips in the floor by the kitchen. He and May had found a literal corner of dead spiders when they first moved in that had been painted over to match the baseboards. There was no way the landlord was going to spend the money to put in a buzzer system.
A few long minutes later, there was a knock on the door.
Harry looked borderline traumatized, his eyes wide as he quickly stepped past Peter. He didn’t look at all reassured when he watched Peter redo the deadlocks, but he did still give him the owed hug of an arrival.
“So how were the buzzers?” Peter asked, biting his bottom lip to keep from smiling.
Harry let out a heavy breath, a thousand-yard stare on the top lock. “There were… three crickets waiting by the bottom of the stairs? They were kind of just circling each other, so I obviously went to the elevator instead, but there was a sign… taped to it.”
May had put up the sign.
It read 'DO NOT USE, WILL BREAK AND LEAVE YOU STUCK FOR FOUR HOURS WHEN YOU'RE ON YOUR WAY TO WORK!!' in red block letters, because an expo marker had been all she’d had in her purse at the time. The sign itself was an old napkin she’d saved from a restaurant and never bothered to throw away because it was useful.
Peter could understand why Harry had been driven away from the elevator.
He led Harry to the couch, where he sat down hard, feeling like a butler from an old movie helping his rich millionaire boss calm down after he’d received a great fright. And then would need a cigarette to calm down, because cigarettes were just so good for calming the heart.
Harry continued, zoning out on the coffee table now. “So I didn’t use the elevator, and I had to go back to the stairs, and there were… holes in the stairs. Missing stairs, Pete. That’s definitely a health hazard.”
Peter frowned. “Parts of the stairs are missing, but they’re all there.”
Harry gave him a wide-eyed look. “Why are you saying that like it’s better?”
“Because it is?” Peter scowled. “That kid from the floor above us, though, once he taped printer paper over the holes to make it look like they got fixed, and the guy on the first floor ate shit trying to come up and see his girlfriend. It was like two stairs up, so he wasn’t really hurt, but the kid’s parents were so mad his dad grounded him for a year.”
Harry blinked. “Okay, I don’t want to come into your building acting like the stuck-up rich guy who’s coming to…”
“The slums, but it sucks?” Peter offered. He let his face finally turn up into the grin he’d been suppressing. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. I probably should’ve warned you about the stairs. And the elevator. And a few other things, honestly, but if you didn’t notice, I’m not gonna tell you now.”
He threw his arms wide. “But anyway! Mi casa es su casa and all that.”
Harry finally looked around, his expression lightening as he caught sight of the familiar decorations. A lot of it was the same, but there were a few things here and there that May had added.
His eyes lingered for a long moment on the photo of Ben in his uniform that hung by the kitchen, Peter’s heart stuttering as he prayed Harry wouldn’t ask any questions about him. He could not deal with that today.
Harry grinned instead. “I remember May’s record player. Still work?”
“Yep! She’s really happy about it.”
Harry followed Peter into his room, teasing him about finally getting the bunkbed he always wanted.
“Oh, man, I know where I’m crashing,” Harry said, taking the first step of the ladder and then just hoisting himself up the rest of the way. He rested his elbows on the railing and looked down at Peter smugly. “This is my room now.”
“There’s a really big spiderweb up there,” Peter told him flatly. “I lost the spider before I could take it outside, so claim it at your own risk.”
Harry scrambled down the ladder so fast his foot caught and he nearly fell off.
“Just kidding,” Peter sang, and sidestepped the punch Harry swung at his arm.
“You’re such a dick,” Harry said with a roll of his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah,” Peter said, looping his arm around the side of the bedframe. “Like you’re not.”
“Oh, I know what I am.” Harry looked around. “So where's this world-shattering sandwich you promised me? I bought smoothies just for this.”
Making their way to the living room, Peter gasped when Harry pulled them both out of the little carrier bag, recognizing the place that had been their favorite back when they’d still been in elementary school.
“Is that strawberry?”
Harry held it out with a flourish. “Still your favorite, I hope?”
“I regret every shot I’ve taken at you in the last week,” Peter said, beaming. He’d remembered! And gone about twenty minutes out of his way to pick them up, since the place was on the far side of the district Oscorp was in.
“You keep saying that, but I don’t think you mean it.”
More excited than before, he shoved Harry’s sandwich across the cushion at him. He watched, anticipating his reaction.
Harry tucked back the wrapper and took a bite, solemnly chewing until his eyes went wide.
“Oh, this is good.”
“Right?! Best sandwiches in Queens, baby!”
“You… are such a New Yorker.”
“You also lived in New York all your life,” Peter reminded him.
“Yeah, but you’re… so New York. I’ve seen you say ‘I’m walkin’ here’. I’ve never said that.”
“You don’t walk anywhere,” Peter dismissed. “Anyway, life-changing sandwich: thumbs up or down?”
“Up, definitely.”
“Oh thank God, you have taste.”
Harry rolled his eyes.
Peter tucked his feet up onto the couch, getting comfortable. He let Harry pick a movie and settled in with his sandwich and his smoothie for one of the movies Harry had promised over the phone Peter would love.
There had been a pleasant lull in conversation, where their chatting finally slowed down enough that Peter was paying attention to the movie.
But of course, Peter never stayed quiet for long. Harry had missed his chatter almost every day in these last few years of silence.
“Harry,” Peter suddenly whispered, startling him a little after close to fifteen minutes of no talking. “Do you hear that?”
Harry tensed, turning to look at him as he focused on his ears. What was he supposed to hear? The TV was so loud he couldn’t hear anything.
“It’s raining,” Peter said, his face splitting into a wide smile.
Harry smiled himself, remembering Ben and his mother dragging them out into the rain against May and his father’s wishes, Ben showing them how to tell which puddles would make the best splash, and his mother showing them how to catch rain on their tongues.
Peter and Harry had had the times of their lives, running up and down the sidewalks with mouths still stained blue from popsicles wide open to catch the little droplets of water. It hadn’t tasted of anything, especially after the sugar they’d just had, but it was a memory Harry always looked back on fondly. One of his favorites. They’d all felt like one giant family, that day.
He remembered finally coming inside when Peter had started shivering, with May holding out towels for all four of them. His father had even given him his first cup of coffee that day, offering his own and telling Harry it would warm him faster than the towel. He’d huffed at Harry’s disgusted face and added sugar, looking so out of place in the Parkers’ little house.
But still, he’d taken the porcelain bird-shaped sugar shaker from the table and poured some into the black coffee, helping Harry stir it in until it was more sugar than coffee. He still took it that way.
Peter had gotten a cup of hot chocolate, and Harry hadn’t paid much attention then, but now he remembered the quiet, pleasant conversations of the adults around the kitchen table as they chatted. Peter and Harry watched cartoons and shook their wet hair at each other, and his mother had laughed when the caffeine eventually began to kick in and Harry suddenly wanted to run around the house like an overexcited squirrel.
Harry had never wanted to go home again.
It was the first, and sadly last, time Norman had ever come into the Parker household for more than a minute to tell Harry to gather his things. No, he’d sat, and he’d taken coffee that wasn’t imported from anywhere but the grocery store, and he’d laughed and made conversation with the people his wife and son liked so much.
Harry got frustrated with his father often, but he always remembered that day when it rained. He remembered how his father had pretended to chase him, still damp, into the penthouse when they’d returned. He’d only chased him for a few steps, but Harry remembered.
“Do you wanna go outside?” Peter asked suddenly, his eyes wide and excited. For a second, Harry saw seven-year-old Peter again, and he almost nodded before he caught himself.
“I shouldn’t,” he said, glancing down at his clothes. “Dry cleaning will be--”
“Expensive?” Peter said, and oh wow, the little shit was about to laugh at him. “You’re an Osborn. You can afford it if it means playing in the rain.”
“But should an Osborn be playing in the rain at all?”
“I remember two of them doing it in my front yard,” Peter said casually. He stood up, offering Harry a hand. “I’ll give you some of my clothes to go home in, I promise! Just live a little, Harry.”
“I live plenty,” Harry retorted, but followed him out into the hall anyway. Peter tugged him away from an elevator with a warning sign taped to the doors and instead up a rickety set of stairs.
Peter looked over his shoulder as he held him by the wrist, both of them steady in their steps. “Have you jumped in any puddles since I last saw you?”
“My dad would kill me,” Harry deadpanned.
Peter tsked. “We need to fix that, then.”
He burst through a rooftop access door, a loud laugh erupting from him as he was met with a faceful of rain. Harry set his phone and watch down on the floor just inside the door, and watched Peter set his against an AC unit, shielded from the rain.
He stepped back, flashing a thumbs-up at the phone and then took a few more quick steps back, hopping on light feet. He did a little spin, arms outstretched.
Suddenly, Peter’s eyes darted back to him.
He pouted, hair already fallen out of his weak styling and clinging to his wet face as he grabbed Harry by the wrist again and dragged him out from his shelter to stand in the rain.
Peter pointed to a little dip in the roof, filled maybe an inch with water already. His voice was loud, over the rain, but he looked so happy it almost made Harry uncomfortable. “Do you know what that is?”
“A puddle?” Harry asked, just as loud as he brushed some of his hair out of his eyes. It was already falling, Oribe gel not mattering much when met with a downpour.
“Fun!” Peter yelled back, yanking Harry closer as he stomped in it, soaking them both completely through.
Harry laughed and shook his hair at him just like he’d done when he was seven, watching Peter try to defend himself. It was no more water than what was falling onto them constantly, but Peter took it as a challenge, his eyes lighting with competition.
Harry took a step back as Peter dipped his hand into the puddle of disgusting NYC rooftop water and flung it at him, making him shriek.
“You dick!” Harry yelled, holding up his hand and flicking what water built up in it back at him.
Peter laughed again, jumping up and down as he spun again.
Harry watched fondly as he threw his arms out and opened his mouth, catching a few droplets. The rest ran down his chin and neck and into his clothes. Harry just hoped there was nothing expensive he’d forgotten to take off, but--
That wasn’t important right then, was it?
Following his example, Harry closed his eyes and lifted his head, catching what felt like half a bottle in seconds.
When he opened his eyes again, Peter was beaming at him. Harry never wanted to lose touch with him again if it meant losing that look on his face.
Before long, they were both laughing so hard their stomachs hurt, spinning and hopping in all the water-filled divots that a roof really shouldn’t have as they played.
Harry felt seven again.