Chapter 3
They were shivering when they came back inside, this time both of them, but they were still laughing as they trudged back into Peter’s apartment, sopping wet and leaving trails of water on the floors.
They took off their shoes at the door, but it made little difference as their socks squelched with every step.
Peter made a little aha! sound as he pulled two thick towels from the top of a linen closet, Hary getting green and Peter taking red.
Peter wrapped it over his head and let it drape over his shoulders as he led him into his bedroom, the ends tucked under his chin.
One hand left his towel cocoon to dig through his worn dresser, a sharpied equation still scribbled onto the side.
“Do you want a shower?”
Harry considered it. “Nah, rain is clean anyway. I'll just dry off.”
“You sure? It's Queens. There's probably like, radioactive lizard guts in our rain.”
“That's not how rain works,” Harry said, unimpressed. “It's clean. Or at least clean enough. I'll take one when I get home tonight.”
“Too good for my three-in-one,” Peter teased, shaking his head.
“Keep making poor jokes, Parker. See what I do.”
“I'm terrified,” he deadpanned, chucking a t-shirt, boxers, and a pair of sweatpants at his head. What was he going to do? Give him money about it?
Peter was digging to find clothes for himself to wear when his phone went off in his hand.
He saw the caller ID, and his entire body stiffened. “Shit,” he breathed.
He shoved Harry toward the bedroom door, slamming it in his face.
“Go change! I’ll be out in a minute!”
“Who’s calling?”
“Work!”
“You have a job?”
“Harry!”
Harry’s jaw clamped shut, audible even through the door, and Peter waited until he was mostly to the bathroom before he answered.
“Mr. Stark! Hi!”
He’d set it to audio-only, but a video-call was forced through.
Mr. Stark looked suspicious. “So what’s this cram session you cancelled on me for? You think I’m not smart enough to help you study for your tests now?”
“I… didn’t think you’d be interested, sir,” Peter said honestly. “But, um, it’s mandatory. A meeting. For decathlon. It’s still happening, actually.”
“Why does your location say you’re in your apartment, then?”
“We’re having the meeting here,” Peter said smoothly. “It’s-- casual. We rotate.”
“Mandatory and casual?”
“Yes.”
“Why do I get the feeling I’m being lied to?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Stark. I’ve never lied to you.”
“Sure you haven’t,” came the dry reply. “What's with the towel? You look like you just swam to Noah’s Ark.”
“It's raining,” Peter explained slowly. “I walk home from school.”
Unimpressed, “You don't own an umbrella?”
“I didn't check the weather before I went to school. Also, May's umbrella has bunnies on it.”
Not super helpful to the avoiding getting bullied side of things.
“Fine. I was sure this was some kind of excuse, but I’ll let it slide this once. I’ll have Happy pick you up Saturday, we can run the update then.”
“Awesome! Thanks, Mr. Stark.”
“I can’t believe I’m being cancelled on for flashcards,” Mr. Stark muttered, and then hung up without warning.
The door creaked as a wet head of hair poked inside. Peter covered his face.
“Did I hear you say Mr. Stark?”
“Would you believe me if I said no?”
Harry stepped in further, looking exactly as unimpressed as Mr. Stark had a minute ago.
“No.”
“It's not really a job,” Peter said, shuffling in place. “It's an internship.”
“Paid?”
Peter nodded.
“That's a job, traitor,” Harry said, glaring from under his towel.
Peter cringed. “To be fair--” He cut himself off. Bringing up the last few years would be too low of a blow, at least in his opinion. “Uh.”
“You promised we’d work together at Oscorp forever.”
“And I'm gonna keep that promise,” Peter agreed, still cornered up against his dresser.
He really would keep it if he could. Now that he knew Norman wouldn't have him hurled off the premises on sight. He hadn't really known before if Norman had hated him hated him, so he hadn't wanted to risk it.
Not to mention the fact that he hadn't even been looking for internships when Mr. Stark approached him.
“On May?”
Peter sighed. “On May.”
Harry was appeased with that, and stuck his nose in the air. “So you'll tell Stark to step off?”
“Uh… no,” Peter said. “Oscorp doesn't even take on interns until their first year of college, and in case you haven't noticed, I'm a junior.”
“So? It's two years.”
“Did you not hear paid?”
“I can pay you to not work for Stark,” Harry offered.
“I have dignity,” Peter said, sticking out his tongue. “Also, why would I turn down an extra two years of work experience?”
It was a little stipend, that Peter put almost exclusively toward the apartment bills without May’s knowledge (“Yeah, May, it's crazy that the bills have gone down. I think I saw an article saying something about inflation rates getting lower. Yeah!”), but the leftover was enough for snacks and medical kits and the little things he needed week-to-week, and all he had to do was go up to the Compound every three weeks or so for actual lab time and let the Baby Monitor Protocol run just often enough that Karen didn't alert FRIDAY.
He was not getting an offer like that anywhere else.
“Traitor,” Harry repeated, like it was a personal slight.
“Look, I'm not a traitor!” Peter went to throw his arm around him, but Harry didn't let him.
Peter took a second to really look into Harry's eyes. Had he really hurt him?
Amusement shone in deep green, making Peter huff.
A little more comfortable, Peter joked, “You can think of me as a corporate spy. A bad one, though, because I signed an NDA so all my corporate secrets stay up here.” He tapped his temple.
Harry finally laughed at that, shaking his head. “You're an idiot, Pete.”
“A funny one!”
Harry shoved him. “An idiot. But also, it's getting pretty late. I should head out.”
“What?” Peter deflated. “How long were we outside? Only…” he checked his phone. “...Three hours. Okay, maybe it is getting late.”
A finger poked into his forehead between his eyebrows. “Don't pout, what are you, five?”
“At heart.”
Harry scoffed and snatched his towel off his head to throw at him. In retaliation, Peter shook his uncovered hair at him, making him yelp and stumble backward.
“Pete!”
“Don't take my towel then.” He grabbed it back off the floor and tossed it over his head again. “I was gonna stick your clothes in the dryer.”
“I'll just wear your stuff home,” Harry shrugged. Peter raised an eyebrow.
“Thank you, Mr. Osborn, for allowing me the pleasure of offering you my clothes,” Peter said, bowing at the waist. His spider-sense went off loudly, and he let it, cackling with mirth as Harry shoved him again, this time hard enough to throw him off his feet onto his bed.
“You're so annoying.”
“It's my specialty,” Peter said sweetly, locking his fingers under his chin and batting his eyelashes.
Harry glanced at his phone, and his face fell.
“Car?”
“Car.”
Peter threw his arms open and wiggled his eyebrows.
Harry looked him up and down, and then at his socks. “You're still wet.”
Peter pulled the towel and draped it over his chest and then grabbed Harry before he could argue with him.
“See? You're fine and mostly dry.”
“Yeah, mostly,” Harry grumbled. “Look, just-- see you?”
“Obviously,” Peter huffed, folding his arms. “You’re not getting rid of me.”
Harry shot him a little smile, and before long, Peter was waving him out the front door, and then waving him off again from his bedroom window, shouting embarrassingly down into the street.