The Trials and Tribulations of Trying to Talk while Love Drunk

For the first time in his life, Peter keeps a secret from Gwen. Okay, it’s not like his talk with Professor Parker is a secret or anything, but he still decides to just not mention it the next morning when she asks what happened to him. He’s more than happy to keep their moment all to himself — it feels more special that way, even though it makes absolutely no sense. Besides, he knows Gwen: she’s not the type to pry.

“Where were you? I was worried! You didn’t have a jacket and your phone was left behind! What happened to you?” Gwen barges in the next morning at an unholy hour and lectures him before telling him that Harry had been looking for him for the better part of the night. 

Shit. 

“Oh man, I’m sorry.” He groans as he rolls over to look at her, and hopes that his half frozen and hungover state conveys that he’s already being punished by some higher power. After all, Peter knows he looks like a complete mess — he hadn’t even managed to get under the covers and there are streaks of last night’s makeup all over his pillow. He feels his stomach churn with the sudden movement.

Gwen purses her lips and smirks, obviously in agreement with the way the universe has decided to punish him, before zeroing in on the jacket. “Where did you get that?” 

Nothing ever gets past her, does it? Peter just shrugs, because it’s not lying if he doesn’t say anything. Also, he’s fairly certain that his brain has been totally fried by the stream of sunlight that’s followed Gwen into his room. 

Somehow that works. Gwen settles down at the foot of his bed and takes in his sorry state.“Did you at least get your phone?” 

“Yeah. It was dead when I picked it up though.” 

“Hmm.” Gwen keeps her eyes downcast as she picks at the threads in his comforter and smooths it out, obviously stalling their conversation. “You know…Harry asked me if you left because of him.” 

Oh. 

Peter doesn’t envy Gwen’s position and is even more sorry that he’s put her in the middle of that awkwardness in the first place. “Ah. Nope. That was all me.” He sheepishly responds. 

She raises her gaze up to him — those green eyes bore into him and threaten to look deep into every inch of his soul. “Mhmm.”

“I’m serious! I feel bad, but it wasn’t him. It was me. I got…scared. I’m sorry.” 

“Okay, well…” Gwen accepts his apology and gives him a coy smile, one that he recognizes as her scheming. “Does that mean you would be willing to go out with him for dinner?” 

“Gwen…” 

“Why not?” She presses indignantly, green eyes wide. “Don’t you like him?” 

“I-” Peter isn’t sure how to respond to that. Yes, he’s attracted to Harry, but it’s more because he resembles a certain someone and he’s not sure that’s something he should admit to Gwen. She wouldn’t totally judge him or anything (okay maybe she would judge him a bit), but she would mostly warn him to be careful with toying with others’ emotions and about further feeding his crush on Professor Parker. He hates how perfectly his subconscious takes on Gwen’s voice. “I don’t know…I don’t think I’m in a good place to date anyone really… Also, Harry’s way too good for me.” 

“Oh, don’t say that! Harry likes you for who you are. Besides, it doesn't have to lead to dating. This is just to see where things go.” She waves her hand dismissively but still drops her voice suggestively. 

“Oh my god, Gwen! Are you trying to get me laid?!” Peter isn’t sure if he’s more upset or impressed at the lengths his best friend will go for him. 

Gwen just gives him a mischievous smile before shrugging and waltzing out of his room. 

“Wait, Gwen!” Peter calls out after her, getting only giggles in response. 

***

Peter floats through the rest of the week — his brain still processing whatever happened at Parker’s apartment and he finds himself analyzing every second of that interaction. He replays every single moment in his mind, always lingering on the way Parker’s brilliant blue eyes reacted the moment they touched. Peter feels like he’s going insane: he didn’t imagine the way his pupils dilated or the way a spark shot through their bodies the second they touched, right? 

He spends too much time looking at his phone, memorizing the digits of Parker’s phone number and imprinting the two messages they’ve exchanged into his brain. 

3:47 a.m.

Hey! It’s Peter! I’m alive! No need to send out a rescue team for me 

3:53 a.m. 

Good! I’m glad you made it home safely. Take care, Peter. 

If it was hard to focus in class before, it’s made ten times worse now. Whenever he can, he takes note of Professor Parker’s blue eyes just to see if he can catch them looking as dark as they did that night. Peter knows that this is bad, but he finds unable to stop his thoughts from continuously coming back to Professor Parker, especially when he lies in bed at night. 

He closes his eyes, trails his hand down his chest and pushes past the waistband of his sweatpants. In one smooth motion, he takes them off, already feeling too hot just by imagining the older man. He palms himself over his boxers, thinking about Parker’s voice, his brilliant blue eyes, and those lithe fingers. Peter imagines how Parker would whisper his name reverently, running his hands over the expanse of his body. His lips would linger over every dip along his ribs, stubble ticking the soft skin of his stomach. He imagines Parker would hesitate at his waistband, perhaps give him those eyes as if to ask: is this okay? 

Peter fantasizes what it would be like to tug at Parker’s hair, guide him lower, and watch him take every single inch of him in his mouth. 

Peter’s hand catches up to his brain, curling around his already slick dick. His imagination spurs him on as he imagines seeing Parker’s wide blue eyes filled with absolute lust, the same as they looked that Saturday night, and those pouty lips tightly wrapped around him. That image alone is enough to send him unexpectedly reeling. 

He lays in bed for several minutes, feeling the warm and sticky mess on his stomach get tacky, his mind absolute mush. In a daze, he cleans himself up, still thinking about those piercing blue eyes. Yeah, a cold shower is definitely necessary now. 

He gathers his things, careful not to make too much noise as he had heard Gwen come home earlier, and hopes not to run into her. No such luck. 

“Hey,” She calls out from their dining table/desk/catch all surface, still working on her computer. 

“Hey,” He waves back weakly, eager to make it into the bathroom before she ropes him into a conversation. 

“You nervous for tomorrow?” She doesn’t even glance up from her computer, still furiously typing away. 

Tomorrow — did he have plans or a test happening tomorrow? “Um. What’s going on tomorrow?” He stops, halfway across their living room, confusion evident on his face. 

“Your date.” Gwen looks up, nonplussed. “Come on, don’t tell me you forgot.” 

Oh, right. He half remembers sending a message to Harry, asking him out to dinner. He was sure that he had scheduled that for next week.  “Yeah. No, I totally didn’t forget.” He plays it off smoothly, hoping it’s enough to convince Gwen. “It’s cool. I’m cool.”

Gwen laughs. “He’s really excited! He said he’s glad you let him choose a place — he told me he has a nice surprise planned for you.” Her smile is contagious as she relays the few details he told her during class. 

Peter leans against their kitchen counter. “Yeah, no. I’m excited too!” And the truth is, he is excited. Maybe not as excited as Harry, or Gwen for that matter, but he is looking forward to spending time with him. He knows it’s not good for him to spend so much time thinking about their professor (the embarrassing sticky spot on his abdomen is testament of that), so he looks forward to spending more time with people who are actually available for him to crush on. 

He continues his beeline to the bathroom before remembering a question he had for Gwen. He pauses, hesitantly, before the doorway. “Hey, have you been back home recently?” 

“Yeah. My mom says hi.” Gwen’s focus is back on her computer. 

“Did you happen to see Aunt May while you were at home?” 

That snaps her attention back to Peter. “Yeah. She wondered how you were doing and asked if you planned on spending Thanksgiving with her… Have you had a chance to call her?” 

Peter feels an embarrassed blush spread over his cheeks. “I sent her a message a few days ago.” 

“Have you gone and visited her this semester?” 

“Not really. No.” He winces out.

“Peter.” Gwen’s voice sounds reproachful, but it has no bite. It just sounds tired instead. “Have you been out to Queens at all since we started school?” 

“No.” He looks down at his feet, feeling an odd lump in his throat. “I just feel…I can’t see Aunt May like this. Not when I’ve let her down.” 

“Oh Peter.” He hears the chair scrape as Gwen stands up to fold him into a hug. “Aunt May misses you, okay. I know you feel guilty about Uncle Ben, but please don’t push her away. This isn’t what he would want…he’d probably say something about responsibility and being there for the ones you love.” 

The lump in his throat grows bigger, so Peter buries his head into Gwen’s shoulder and drops his voice to a whisper. “He’s dead because of me, Gwen.” 

“It wasn’t your fault, Peter.” Gwen murmurs into his ear, smoothing down the little hairs on the nape of his neck. “It’s not your fault, Pete. Please go see your aunt. She misses you.” 

He nods into Gwen’s neck as she holds him tighter. 

“Let’s go together this weekend, okay?” Her voice is soothing and anchors him as he navigates a fresh wave of grief. “One step at a time.” 

He nods again, feeling overwhelming gratitude for Gwen. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

He feels a small chuckle around his sternum. “I don’t know either. Now go — take a shower and get a good night's sleep. You have a big day tomorrow!” 

***

Peter’s nerves the next day don’t let him focus on anything. He barely manages to write his article for the school newspaper and by some miracle manages to complete his lab without any major spills. He’s so thrown off by his date with Harry that he even grabs the wrong coat — bringing with him Professor Parker’s black jacket. The irony isn’t lost on him. His subconscious is sending him mixed signals, but Peter is determined to ignore the little voice in his head that eggs on that infatuation (that’s all it is, really) with the older man. 

So, he sets aside all those complicated feelings for Professor Parker and instead tries to focus on Harry. Harry, who’s kind, funny, easy to talk to, and has exceptionally good taste. 

“Trust me. You’ll love this place.” He leads Peter to a small Italian place by his house. “They have this whipped ricotta that’s amazing! And don’t worry — it’s all on me.” 

“No, at least let me get our drinks,” Peter protests, feeling a little self conscious, as they’re seated in the back patio. Harry sits with easy elegance on a bench against a wall covered with sprawling vines and Peter wishes he had his camera to capture this moment. It’s right out of a romance novel, complete with blue eyed, windswept haired hero. He smiles. 

“What’s so funny?” Harry’s eyes are alight with inquisitive curiosity.  

“Nothing, man. You’re just…” Peter struggles for words and just shakes his head instead. He takes a sip of wine, hoping it’ll help with his nerves. 

“I get it! I’ve been told I’m simply breathtaking.” Harry laughs. There’s a hint of cockiness in his voice, but Peter knows there’s some honesty in that statement. It’s just a fact: Harry really is beautiful. “But, I’ll tell you what. You can pay for the next date.” 

Peter raises an eyebrow over the top of his glass. “What makes you so sure there’s going to be a second date?” He asks, playfully. 

There’s a twinkle in Harry’s eye that excites Peter and sends a tingle to his toes. “I just have a feeling.”

***

Peter learns a lot about Harry over the next few hours. 

He’s an only child, though he has an uncle in New York. “Norman is a little… weird, but more intense than anything. He’s alright though.”

He’s traveled a lot, which makes Peter a little jealous but Harry assures him it means nothing. “You miss a lot when you’re constantly moving, you know? If I’m being honest, I don’t think I’ve ever even had a best friend.”

And he’s got big plans. “I’m going to take over Oscorp in a few years. That’s why I want to learn the science behind it — I want to make sure we’re doing something good, something that makes a difference.”

Peter consistently finds himself in awe of Harry and hopes that it’s enough to fully shove those thoughts about Professor Parker out of his mind once and for all. He likes Harry. He’s attracted to Harry, but again it’s just not the same as what he feels for Professor Parker. 

It feels weird that even after the perfect date (even as they’re holding hands!) Peter’s mind continues to go back to Professor Parker. They walk to Peter’s bus stop in comfortable half silence — Harry pointing out his favorite spots in the neighborhood and Peter humming in appreciation. 

Peter begins recognizing some of the buildings, frowning as he realizes whose neighborhood he’s in. 

Son of a—

“Hey, isn’t that Professor Parker?” Harry points over to a figure standing outside a very familiar building, smoking a cigarette and holding a dog leash. 

Peter’s heartbeat pounds in his head and he tries to tell himself it’s because he’s just had the best date of his life, definitely not because he’s running into his Professor. 

“Hi! Professor Parker!” He shouts out before he can stop himself. Maybe it’s the wine, but he doesn’t stop to think that it might be weird to approach the man he’s been fantasizing about while he’s on a date with someone else. He doesn’t stop to think that he’s still holding Harry’s hand or that Harry leans into him as they catch up to Professor Parker. 

He does, however, notice the way Professor Parker’s eyes flit between him and Harry and take in how closely they’re standing. It’s gone in a flash, but Peter is almost certain he sees a ripple of annoyance — no, jealousy — cross his face. That’s not possible, is it? 

Sandwich strains to greet him as Parker jovially calls out, “Hi there! How are you doing tonight?” 

“We’re doing great! Just walking back from dinner. It’s good to see you Parker!” Harry responds breezily and Peter feels a tinge of guilt. 

He shoves that feeling to the side as he bends down to play with the dog — now that’s a lot less complicated than trying to decipher the look he saw in Parker’s face or deal with the feelings he has for both Harry and Parker. He just barely overhears Parker telling Harry that it’s been too long and asking him about his classes this year.

“Hi Sandwich!” He scratches the little tan dog behind his ears which causes him to strain against his leash even more.“What a sweet boy!” 

“He missed you,” Parker notes fondly, smiling down at Peter. 

Peter stands up, feeling the beginning of a blush creep over his cheeks. “I guess I’ll have to see him around more, then?” 

Parker just smiles in response and Peter basks in its simple beauty. There’s something unspoken there and Peter hopes that Parker can read between the lines.

“Well, we should get going. We have to catch the bus.” Harry brings Peter back down to Earth and they send hurried waves back to Professor Parker as they continue walking. 

“How do you know Professor Parker?” Peter asks offhandedly, once they’re safely out of earshot, curious about how casual Parker and Harry’s exchange had been. 

“Peter’s an old family friend. He was best friends with my older cousin, Harry. Sorry, my family isn’t very original when it comes to names.”

Peter’s mind flashes back to the picture of the handsome curly haired man with a steely jaw in Parker’s apartment as he nods in understanding. “Was?”

“Yeah…” Harry pauses for a moment. “Um, Harry died a few years ago when I was a teenager. It sucked, but Peter stuck around for Norman. Guilt, I guess.” 

Peter sucks in a breath, the pieces slowly clicking into place. “What happened?”

“Car accident. Harry died at the scene.” Harry’s response is curt which Peter recognizes as polite discomfort. He shifts the topic, not wanting to end the date on such a bittersweet note. 

“You know, I had a really nice time.” Peter is a little hesitant as he starts, still unsure if he should angle for a second date or let Harry down gently.

“I had a good time, too! Do you want to go out again, say next week?” 

Peter thanks his lucky stars that Harry is much more forward than he could ever be. He feels the corners of his mouth turn up. “I’d like that.” 

Sure, Harry’s eyes are a lot more subdued than the electric blue ones that Peter has been dreaming about over the last few months, but they have the same effect on him as Harry gives him a sweet, little crooked smile in response. 

*** 

Peter spends the next few days in a happy trance. He makes the trek out to Queens with Gwen and they spend an entire weekend at home. He enjoys spending time with Aunt May: they catch up over tea, lovingly tend to a bubbling pot of soup, and end the day by watching West Side Story. 

It’s only on Monday when things start going downhill. He wakes up to an email with the subject line: Lecture and Office Hours Canceled — Out Sick. 

Peter skims through the short email asking them to read Chapter 18 of their textbook and bites nervously at his fingers as Professor Parker warns that Wednesday's lecture might be canceled too. His mind jumps to the worst while the rational part of his brain tries to talk him down. Even if Parker’s sick, it’s absolutely not his problem. 

Somehow that logic holds for three days. Peter is aware that it’s ridiculous to be worried about his Professor, but that still doesn’t stop him from coming up with a fully unhinged plan. He still has Professor Parker’s coat and, hypothetically speaking, could just drop it off at his Professor’s house along with some soup and check up on him. That’s not weird, right? That's just being a good person. 

Peter isn’t sure why he’s so concerned about his Professor. Even Gwen thinks it’s a little odd the one time he brings up bringing him some soup: “Your veggie noodle soup is really good, Pete, but, uh, that’s a little extra don’t you think?” 

Part of him knows that this is potentially crossing some line, but the other part just continues thinking back to the look he saw on Professor Parker’s face when he saw him and Harry after dinner. The look of jealousy followed by that soft look of fondness and an invitation (to what, he still can’t quite figure out). He knows that there’s a huge chance he’s simply misunderstanding the situation entirely, but the small part of him that has dared to hope spurs him on. 

That’s how Peter finds himself on the bus with a container full of veggie noodle soup, Parker’s freshly laundered coat, and some tea packets stolen from Gwen’s ever growing stash. He feels nervous the whole way there and tries to think about what he’ll say. 

Oh no, what if he’s not even home? 

The thought occurs to Peter just one stop away from Parker’s apartment and he almost abandons his plan completely, absolutely terrified. Somehow, he stays put and despite shaky knees gets off at the right stop. He sends a quick prayer out into the universe for his visit to align with Parker taking his dog out or something, as Peter quickly realizes he has no plan on how to get into the building. 

The universe answers his prayer by timing his entrance with another resident’s exit and Peter sends a quick thanks to whatever is watching out over him. He hopes that luck holds up as he goes to knock on Parker's door, triple checking that he has the right apartment. He’s 4B, right? He steels himself for anything and everything — ready to embrace a potentially uncomfortable situation if it means spending a moment with Parker.

However, nothing prepares him for the distinctly feminine voice that answers his knock with a short, “Coming!”

Peter’s mind goes blank as he cycles through a mixture of emotions ranging from confusion to fear. Did he misremember Parker’s door number? 

“Hi there!” A stunning redhead with crystal blue eyes, an upturned nose, and a wide smile opens the door. She looks so familiar, yet Peter struggles to place her. 

“Hi!” He starts awkwardly, giving her a polite little wave. “Um. I was wondering if this was Professor Peter Parker’s place? Sorry if I have the wrong address…I wasn’t sure- I mean, I don’t mean to intrude-” 

“Oh, you’re looking for Peter! Well, you’ve come to the right place! Come in,” she says brightly, completely brushing aside his nervous words, and opening the door for him to step in. She really is beautiful in that girl next door kind of way, which further tongue ties Peter. “Careful with the dog.” 

She tucks a strand of coppery red hair behind her ear, the kitchen light catching on the golden ring upon her finger, and the realization hits Peter like a bag of bricks. He remembers the photo on Parker’s desk. The photo where he’s dressed in an impeccable navy suit, his arms encircling a beautiful redhead in a white satin dress. It’s the wedding photo he’s been staunchly ignoring for the better part of a semester — the one that reminds him that Professor Parker is entirely out of his reach. 

Peter’s mind reels as he grasps at threads from conversations with Professor Parker. The little asides about his life suddenly highlighted in his mind. This is surely Mary Jane Watson-Parker: actress, model, playwright, and wife. 

“You’re Mary Jane, right?” His voice doesn’t come out broken like he thought it would. Instead it’s soft and full of awe as he looks at the woman who’s captured Parker’s heart. 

“Yeah, that’s me.” She smiles up at him and Peter feels as if he’s been bathed in sunlight. In just a single moment, he fully understands why Parker loves her. “And you are?” 

He swallows the hard lump in his throat. “No-nobody. I’m just Professor Parker’s student…I came to drop this off.” He holds up the black coat. He gulps again. 

“Oh.” She takes the jacket, looking a little confused. “Thanks for dropping it off! Do you want to wait for Peter?” 

“No.” He shakes his head quickly, feeling little pinpricks behind his eyes — he needs to leave soon. He turns back to the door. “Could you just tell him thanks? Um, I really appreciated it.” 

“Sure! But are you okay? I swear, Peter isn’t far. He’ll be here in just a few minutes.” 

“No! No. I’m fine.” He sends a tight smile to Mary Jane, his fingers already on the door handle. “I hope you guys have a good night.” 

He closes the door quickly behind him and power walks down the stairs. Peter feels ready to throw up, cry, scream, or do a combination of all three. He’s not sure why he’s so affected by it. He knew that Professor Parker was married. He knew he had a wife. So why is he so incredibly hurt? 

Peter slams into the bar of the exit door and feels his mind reel as the first hot and furious tears fall. He’s not sure where to go, but he just knows that there’s a chasm full of yearning and loneliness opening up in his chest. It will surely consume him if he doesn’t act fast. Peter stands outside the building, breathing heavily, willing the tears back while he tries to decide what to do next. 

He doesn’t know when he starts running. He just feels his feet move of their own accord. Peter’s brain isn’t much help either — it’s fully ceded leadership to his angry and aching heart. All he knows is that he’s desperate and needs to feel the touch of someone. 

His feet know where to take him though. It’s almost muscle memory at this point. 

Peter rings the calling box on the side of the nondescript building incessantly, until he hears a familiar click. The doors open. He’s nervous to say the least as he heads up the elevator. He knows he looks like a mess — his hair is probably sticking up and he feels his damp and sweaty clothes sticking to him uncomfortably. It doesn’t matter though, he relies on the adrenaline pumping through his body to get him up to the doorway. 

He knocks twice before the door swings open and he’s greeted by a pair of familiar pale blue eyes. 

“Hey.”