Chapter 7
“Peter, your pizza is burning.”
“Shit!”
Peter has been a little distracted all day. From accidentally knocking over several glasses, snapping a pencil with his super strength when adding notes to some blueprints, and now burning his dinner; he has been a certified mess, and he knows exactly who to blame.
Harley Fucking Keener.
Harley and his stupidly comfy chest that he is refusing to admit he fell asleep against.
Look, it’s not like Peter has never cuddled with his friends, he and Ned used to end up passed out against each other after Star Wars marathons all of the time. He has no reason to be so flustered by this, and yet he can’t seem to function enough to feed himself without setting the place on fire.
Batting away smoke, he yanks out the piping hot, very crisp pizza, thankful he at least remembered to use oven gloves. He throws it on the side, shaking his head despairingly.
“Thanks, Karen.” He decides to eat it anyway, even if his teeth are slightly at risk from the entirely too solid crust. He doesn’t like food wastage. Of course, he just burns his mouth instantly.
Okay, so maybe he’s a bit more than ‘a little’ distracted.
His mind flashes with the memories of skin against skin and the comforting sound of Harley’s heartbeat buzzing in his ears late into the night. The gentle murmur of his rough morning voice as they traded complaints back and forth before he left; letting him stay in the still warm bed until the sun rays cut into the room and he awoke naturally.
He runs his tongue along the burnt roof of his mouth, thoughts fighting to determine what the main issue is causing his distraction. Is it the fact he’s been without companionship for so long? Perhaps, he could argue it’s the fact he has never been half dressed in a bed with anyone other than MJ and his brain is crossing wires.
Fuck, what would MJ think of this?
He can’t imagine how hurt his girlfriend would be if she discovered he was being flustered by another person; how she’d feel knowing he slept shirtless next to another man, in his arms and resting better than he has in two years. How would she feel knowing he was moving on-
No. No, he isn’t doing that. He loves her, he always has and always will. He’s just struggling because it has been so long since he heard her voice, or even saw her face. That’s all. Since her and Ned left for college he hasn’t had the means to keep an eye on them.
But, he has a phone now.
He pulls the opportunity from his pocket, unlocking the screen and opening Instagram before pausing. Does he really want to do this? Selfishly, he can’t help but think about how much it’s going to hurt seeing them living their lives without him around.
Taking a deep breath, he decides to stop being a coward and types in the handle he remembers Ned using first. He looks away from the screen as the search results load, cupping a hand over his face and rubbing anxiously. Eventually, he lets his gaze roam back to the list of accounts, immediately seeing his best friend’s smiling face in the profile picture right at the top.
Hesitantly, his finger hovers over the profile as he prepares for the bittersweet feeling in his chest to double. He presses the icon. And there his best friend is, smiling, happy, and bald-
Wait, Ned’s bald. A sharp, shocked laugh tears from his dry throat. He scrolls through the mixture of selfies and scenic shots on the account, the ache growing inside of him. He feels his eyes start to water when one of Ned with his arm wrapped around a girl catches his eye.
He found someone. He found someone and I never got to hear him tell me all about her and how their eyes met across a crowded room and he just knew they’d get married fall in love and have three kids and a dog-
His spiralling train of thought is cut off by a comment below the image. More importantly the name and picture beside it.
M.Jxnes: sickeningly sweet as always
His heart stutters. The words echoing in his head as he recalls her voice and the roll of her eyes as she said the same to him, time after time.
Without realising his shaking hands betray him and click onto her page, which as expected has a complete lack of content besides artistic shots of buildings or little snippets of her art. Occasionally though, he can see glimpses of her; slender fingers wrapped around a pencil, curls dipping into shots someone else must have taken over her shoulder, the little things he has long adored.
It isn’t clear how long he spends scrolling through both of their feeds, catching up on their new lives, but the ache slowly fades into a warm fondness, a small not quite there smile gracing his lips as his forgotten pizza becomes cold.
He learns that not everything has changed, the important stuff remains. MJ still remains stubborn on her views, constant rants posted in her captions which he can’t help but giggle at. He still can’t understand some of the words she uses. And Ned, well he is still the same nerd he always was, posts further down his account showing him at conventions, smiling with actors as he gets their autograph all red in the face. Peter wishes he could’ve been there beside him.
He’s only shaken out of his stalking and self pity by the front door opening.
“Peter, I’m home!” Harley’s voice calls into the apartment. He places his phone down on the counter and walks around to greet him.
“Hey. How was work?” The blonde turns to him, smiling wide before he quickly takes in the sight of Peter, slightly shaky and eyes red from the light non-stop cry he’s had going on for the past who knows how long.
“It was alright, we can talk about it later.” He walks forward slowly, his concern contorting his features. “Are you okay?”
Harley is sure he asked Karen to inform him if Peter needed him, so he’s reassured at the very least that if something major has occurred then it hasn’t long happened. He places a reassuring hand on the brunette’s shoulder which he unconsciously sinks into.
“Yeah, just… I've been thinking about some things.” Harley can’t help how he tenses at that.
“Oh? Anything I should know?” He removes his hand, moving to get a drink, not blind to the abandoned pizza on the counter which he’ll make sure to bring up later.
Peter sighs, following after him. “I looked up Ned and MJ.”
“Ah.” Harley registers the conversation they are about to have, senses the shift that is going to occur in their lives if he gives the advice he knows he is going to have to give. He knows that in encouraging the man he’s falling for to reach out to not only his magically induced ex but also his long time friend means he will lose him a little; but looking at the doe brown eyes in front of him he knows he could never do anything different, for Peter’s sake.
“I think that I want- but they’re happy- I miss them but- they just, yeah. I don’t know what to do.” He ends his blubbering all dramatically, flopping onto the counter, making Harley chuckle.
“Alright drama queen, if I’m making sense of that right, you want to reach out but don’t know if it’s right for them?” Peter nods. “Well, in my expert opinion-” he receives a disbelieving squint, “-I say you have no way of knowing what is right for them, and all you can do is reach out. But, if I were them, I’d want you back in my life.”
He moves to sit beside his pouting roommate, placing a comforting hand on his knee that he promptly removes when the brunette stiffens beneath it. Okay, what was that?
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Peter huffs, looking up to meet his eyes before quickly looking away. OKAY, WHAT WAS THAT?
Harley’s brain is short circuiting at these small little hiccups in Peter’s behaviour that didn’t exist before last night. Did he do something wrong? Things were fine when he left this morning.
“Uh, have I done something?” Peter’s head whips back around to look at him.
“What? No, why would you think that?” Harley raises an eyebrow and the younger man’s clueless demeanour drops. “I’m acting weird aren’t I?”
The blonde nods. “So, what’s up darlin’?”
Peter clicks his tongue and he looks down at his lap awkwardly, shoulders hunching in. “Damn it, please don’t call me that.”
Harley flinches back, eyebrows creasing in his hurt expression. Sensing his upset the brunette speaks again. “Shit no, I don’t mean it like that. It’s not like it makes me uncomfortable or anything Harley, I don’t mind you calling me that.”
He softens, though still doesn’t quite understand what is wrong. “So, why then?”
“I just thought about it a bit and wondered what MJ would think about us being… as close as we are.” He finally voices hesitantly. Now, Harley understands.
“Ah, I kind of understand. Is she a jealous type?” Peter scoffs.
“Not really, just think that we lay it on a bit thick is all.” Harley laughs lightly, though his chest aches as he thinks about how this is only step one and he’s already losing part of their connection.
“Right, I’m presuming the shirtless cuddles didn’t help?” Peter shoves him playfully at the description.
“We didn’t cuddle!”
“Oh darlin’, we definitely cuddled.” If looks could kill, Harley would be dead then. He holds his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. Compromise then? I use nicknames with everyone, so I don’t think I can stop that if it’s not making you uncomfortable. But, we could stop the um… physical contact? Would that be better?”
Normally, the responding sulky pout Peter gives to the offer would make Harley feel cocky but now it just gives him hope that he begrudgingly squashes down with a painful swallow. “I guess. Not all of it though? I mean, a hug is a hug.”
Harley nods along a little condescendingly. “Oh yes, I can’t take away all of the baby’s affection.” Peter frowns and swats at him. The swat turns into a small play fight that has become common between them, ending with Harley shoved onto the carpet by Peter’s feet. They’re laughing until the brunette’s expression sobers again.
“Another compromise. Nights like last night, I don’t think she’d mind me needing comfort but preferably with clothes on and minus the uh… clinginess in the morning.” There’s a light flush in his cheeks as he says it that makes Harley’s chest flutter.
“What if your senses are freaking out though? Also, I will remind you it was you trying to keep me from leaving.” He teases lightly, causing Peter to hide his face in his hands.
“Yeah yeah, I’ll restrain myself. And I guess I’ll have to deal with it.” Unable to help the frown on his face at the fact he won’t get to feel his crush pressed against him that way again, and that Peter is going to suffer to avoid it, Harley looks down.
“I guess I can’t argue with your choices. I’ll be fighting you about it in the moment though.” Peter rolls his eyes, though he expected nothing less. “Now, we’ll plan better tomorrow for you reaching out, you’re lucky I have weekends off . For now, let’s relax and you can explain to me the very burnt, hardly touched pizza on the counter.”
Peter gasps. “Shit! I was going to eat that, but I got distracted.”
They end up in the kitchen as Harley insists he eat something edible and not some reheated cement. Now not trusted to cook, Peter is forced to sit on the counter as Harley potters about, putting some ingredients together for a pasta recipe he got from Pepper. Music plays as they make small talk, legs and feet tapping or swinging to the beat. Not long into buying a phone the young hero had been coerced into downloading Spotify so they had a mixed playlist to play when they were together, both of their tastes (pretty similar except for Harley’s random musical numbers) blasting whenever they needed some music therapy.
Now take note, while Peter knew on some level Harley must be able to perform in some way as a theatre kid, he was in no way prepared for this to be proven when the more obscure taste of Harley’s country roots worked their way into the mix.
He certainly isn’t expecting it to be Carrie Underwood’s Dirty Laundry.
“That lipstick on your collar, well, it ain’t my shade of pink-”
Harley’s southern drawl compliments the song perfectly, voice rasping as his lips curl around the words. Peter finds himself uncontrollably gaping at his roommate from the instance the words leave his mouth.
“And I can tell by the smell of that perfume, it’s like 40 dollars too cheap-”
The blonde’s eyes flick over to him, actually registering Peter watching, jaw slack. He smirks to himself, ignoring the blush on the back of his neck from the embarrassment of singing such a 'girly' pick of song. He lets go of the spoon he was stirring the pot of pasta with, fully turning his body to face the brunette and deciding to go for it, seeing just how far he could get the boy’s jaw to drop. Besides, it had been so long since he put on a show.
“And there’s a little wine stain on the pocket of your white cotton thread-”
He stalks closer to his gobsmacked friend, placing a hand to his imaginary shirt pocket, before shoving gently in a mock performance of the words.
“You drink beer and whiskey boy and you know I don’t drink red-”
The song continues, Harley embellishing the words with little dramatic acts, even going as far as grabbing the forgotten spoon to sing into it as a pretend mic during the choruses. Progressively, Peter gets more and more red, somehow smiling despite his flustered response.
“All those midnights sneaking in-” A point to the window Peter crawls through after patrols. “‘I’m late again, oh I’m so sorry-” Mocking finger quotations.
If Peter wasn’t so in shock, blood rushing as he soaks in his roommate’s unnecessarily sultry voice, he’d probably laugh at the fake displays of anger.
“All the ajax in the world ain’t gonna clean your dirty laundry.”
Harley finishes with an over the top bow, only looking up once the song plays into the next. A mischievous, satisfied grin stretches across his face as he meets the other man’s eyes.
“Pick up your jaw, darlin’.” He teases, reaching a hand forward to push at Peter’s chin. The brunette catches his wrist, unconsciously pulling him forward to stand between his knees.
“Fucking hell, Harls. Since when could you sing like that?” Harley laughs, letting his hands come down to hold the counter either side of where Peter is sat.
“Since I got the lead role in every high school production. If this blows your mind, I can’t imagine how you’d react to me dancing.” That effectively short circuits the spider-hero’s brain.
“I’m not- my mind isn’t blown I’m just, a normal amount of impressed.” He stutters out. Harley tilts his head, and leans a little closer.
“Really? You want to explain why you’re bright red and pulling me closer like you want to kiss me then?” Peter’s eyes widen as he looks down at the position he’d actually pulled Harley into, between his legs. He shoves him back and draws his knees up defensively.
Seeing the note of panic beneath the embarrassment, the southern man chooses to lay off on the half joking flirting. Instead he flicks Peter’s knee.
“It’s okay. Not the first time someone has got caught up in the moment when I’ve sang, probably won’t be the last. At least you aren’t some confused straight guy at a karaoke club thinking kissing me while he’s so drunk he can’t walk right is a smart choice. We can joke about it, yeah?”
Thankfully, Peter takes the bait, his frame relaxing as he picks up the drop of Harley’s past. “Wait, that actually happened?”
Harley smiles to himself, going back to the pasta. “Oh yeah, too many confused straight guys in Rose Hill. Everything I lack in actual dating experience I certainly make up for in other ways, that’s for sure.”
Peter chokes on air beside him. The blonde looks up at him a little smug. “What? Sex not something you talk about freely in New York?”
“You- How can you just say that? Christ, how many people have you- no wait that’s rude to ask-” Harley cuts him off with a laugh.
“It’s cool, you can ask whatever we’re close enough to.” He gives him a cheeky wink to which Peter shakes his head fondly, trying to brush off his own awkwardness at the topic. Harley turns off the stove, serving up the cooked pasta and handing him a bowl before he climbs onto the opposing counter to face Peter. “So, I think locker room guy talk is on the cards, no question is too invasive unless I say so, ask away.”
Peter inhales the rich scent of tomato in his bowl of pasta, steeling himself to handle the kind of conversation he’s never actually had. Seeing as he has only slept with MJ a mere handful of times, all awkward and clumsy, Ned never wanted to know details because he feared he wouldn’t be able to look her in the eye.
“Okay. How many?”
“What counts?” The blonde wonders aloud, momentarily breaking his composure which he has to breathe back into his frame.
“Um, anything below the belt? What typically counts?” Harley shrugs in response. He keeps his tone calm as he decides to be helpful to the clearly flustered man, who despite being only a year younger is exuding inexperience so heavily he can’t help but take pity.
“People count what they want. I personally include actual penetration for my body count. If you wanted me to count anything below the belt the number would jump from 5 to like 9, maybe 10.” He thinks for a moment. “No 9, two were the same guy just years apart.”
Peter almost drops the bowl. “Holy- is that a normal count?”
Harley thinks for a moment before shrugging again. “Nowadays, I’d say so yeah. Give or take 1 or 2.”
The brunette is quiet for a second before he asks, barely a whisper. “Were they all guys?”
He shakes his head. “A couple of girls. I thought I could be bisexual for a little while, it was fairly recently I realised I had no interest in women actually. Sex is sex, it can feel good no matter what if you aren’t thinking too hard, but the moment she tried to ride me and all I could see was boobs I got so distracted by how weird they looked I couldn’t enjoy it.”
Peter snorts. “Was she offended?”
“Nah, she never knew, I lied and said I was more interested in getting her off, once I did she left and I never saw her again.” Peter’s eyes widened once again.
“Wait what? Were you not dating?” Harley raises an eyebrow.
“Uh no, it was just a hookup. Peter, just how inexperienced are you? No offence at all, just a hook up at our age is pretty common.”
The brunette picks up his pasta, looking down at it to avoid eye contact as he mumbles an unintelligible response.
“Peter, darlin’ come on. No shame in it, speak up.”
Peter groans and swallows his pride. “Fine. I’ve only slept with MJ, okay?”
Harley’s eyebrows skyrocket before he collects himself, a low whistle escaping him in disbelief. “Damn. Uh, can I ask how it was or…?”
“It was good uh, romantic, but like, I was 16 and nervous so everything was clumsy and rushed in case her parents or my aunt came home.” He receives an understanding nod.
“Been there.” Silence resumes as they process the information they now have about each other.
Peter breaks it. “So, is it super different? Do guys like, kiss differently or-”
“Wait, pause. Are you saying you’ve never even kissed a guy?” Harley’s squeezing his own thighs so hard to maintain some semblance of self restraint at this point. It’s criminal Peter hasn’t been with anyone in so long, looking as good as he does, but to find out he’s never been with a guy at all? Oh, Harley is craving.
“Um, no. I’ve only really concluded I’m bisexual in the past like month, who would I have kissed?”
Master of misdirection, Harley decides they need a relevant change of subject real quick or he’s going to kiss him. It’s too tempting. He settles on something he otherwise would never have mentioned that he’s sure he’ll regret later.
“If you asked Tony, me.” Peter actually chokes on his pasta.
“What?! What do you mean?”
“Well, Tony kind of thinks I’m dating Spiderman but-”
“He what?!”