The Trials and Tribulations of Trying to Talk while Love Drunk

Parker somehow manages to turn fucking into a routine. 

The next morning, Peter wakes up to a good morning text asking if he got home safe and a calendar invite for the following week. Peter lights up at seeing the little block of time and immediately accepts.

It goes like that for a while, with Parker carving out evenings for them and Peter happily accepting the invitation. Sometimes it’s just dinner, where they stumble their way through a new recipe, but more often than not it ends with them in Parker’s bed. It’s not like they can do much else. With Peter still being Professor Parker’s student, they can’t really go out for a real date or even hold hands in public. They don’t ever address it fully, but it’s okay. Peter remembers all too well what he told Parker in his office: you don’t have to be my boyfriend or anything. 

And it’s enough for Peter, for a while, until a niggling feeling settles at the base of his neck and he recognizes that want, that hunger for something more, once again. 

***

Gwen is the first one to notice something’s up. It happens nearly a month after their first tryst (Peter can’t think of a better name to call it, because hookup sounds too casual and his thing with Parker is definitely not a relationship). She corners him in the kitchen, while he’s waiting for his coffee to finish brewing and is at the most vulnerable to her questioning.

“You’re hiding something,” she sing-songs, far too chipper for 7:30 a.m. She roots in the tea cabinet across from Peter and fills her hot water kettle. 

“What?” Peter leans against the fridge and scratches his head. His sleepy mind doesn’t even register she might be talking about Parker until she repeats herself.

“You’re hiding something.” Gwen holds his gaze for an uncomfortable moment, green eyes examining him closely. “Who’s the new person you’re seeing?”

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Pfft. You’re lying. I can tell!”

“No, I’m not!” He insists and opens his eyes wider, challenging Gwen to look a little closer. He hopes she doesn’t pick up on how his heart races a little. He’s not sure he can really explain what he has going on with Professor Parker and he just knows deep inside him that she wouldn’t approve. 

She arches an eyebrow. “Oh please, Peter, you’re a terrible liar. Come on, who is it? Do I know them?” She wheedles, poking his arm lightly with a mischievous grin.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He shrugs blithely.

“Mmhmm.” Gwen stops and narrows her eyes. She sizes him up as if to check his resolve but then backs down with a huff. “Ughg, fine. I guess I’ll wait. But I better have first dibs on meeting your new mystery person!”

***

Peter tries not to think about that conversation until much later — when he’s at Parker’s apartment, sitting on the couch. He tries to concentrate on his problem set and get comfortable, hooking and unhooking his foot out from under himself to find that perfect spot to settle in and study. When that fails, he pets Sandwich absentmindedly and the dog lifts up an ear before flopping over on the couch, baring his tummy for scratches. Peter obliges happily. 

He stops for a moment and thinks back to Gwen’s words. Is he seeing Professor Parker? Peter’s smart enough to know they can’t have a relationship, but the dinners and sweet little gestures have to count for something (right?). And then there’s the whole sleeping together. He wonders if he should bring it up. Just a casual: remember how I said that you didn’t need to be my boyfriend, yeah I was lying and would you like to be my boyfriend for real?

Peter cringes at how juvenile and insecure it sounds. It reeks of desperation (which isn’t too far off from how he’s feeling) and it’s just so awkward. He’s definitely going to need to work on that. 

He’s still wondering how to broach that subject when Parker walks in through the door with two drinks. Sandwich hops off the couch and bolts over to Parker eagerly, earning a laugh from both of them as they watch him wriggle happily.  

Peter pads over and picks up a coffee cup as Parker puts away a freshly pressed juice from the cafe a street over. He glances at the receipt, ready to press a few dollars into Parker’s hands, but something stops him in his tracks. There, in bright purple ink and swoopy handwriting, are ten digits. He swallows and feels an awful green eyed monster claw within his chest. 

“I got you a muffin, too.” Parker tells him with a jerk of his head, oblivious, as he washes his hands. 

“Thanks.” Peter mutters and then perks his voice up to innocently ask. “So, you got someone’s phone number?”

“What?”

“On the receipt.” Peter explains slowly, his voice not betraying any emotion. It’s not like he has a reason to be upset or anything (again, remember, this isn’t a relationship). It’s not like he’s got some weird claim to Parker just because they’re sleeping together (haha that would be absurd ). “You got a phone number for-.” He narrows his eyes as he picks up the receipt. “Gene?”

Parker frowns, dries his hands, and inspects the receipt. “Oh. Huh, I didn’t even notice it.” He shrugs and crumples the paper, leaving Peter to stew in his (totally normal and completely justified) feelings. 

No, he’s not jealous or anything, Peter tells himself as he watches Parker sit down next to his empty spot on the couch and look over his math notes. Parker looks up at him with a sweet and crooked smile that causes Peter’s heart to beat erratically. 

And there it is — that’s the moment Peter knows he’s been utterly and irrevocably fucked over by his feelings for Parker.

***

That night, Peter tries his best to tamp down that jealousy. It’s a selfish thing, he supposes, to want more from Parker. 

Instead, he focuses on his professor’s body: the little moans and sighs Parker releases as Peter palms his ever hardening dick partway through a movie he’s decided is too boring to finish. He tries to convince himself that this is enough as he presses his mouth to Parker’s neck, straddles him on the couch, and elicits a groan so deep that he can feel it rumbling in Parker’s chest as he pops open his shirt. He paws at Parker’s soft chest, tracing long fingers over the moles that dot his skin, and enjoying the way Parker arches into his touch. He then tries to lose himself in the way Parker gently rubs small circles into his hip bones and the awkward little nose bump they share during an overeager kiss. 

But Peter has never been very good at concealing his feelings. He later finds himself giving a possessive snap of his hips that makes Parker let out a low sound. That moan eggs him on and he dips his lips into the soft spot behind Parker’s collarbone. He barely resists the urge to whisper mine, mine, mine in between kisses, but leaves a strategic mark just above the top Parker’s shirt collar.

Before heading home he admires his handiwork, fully enjoying the contrast of the small but noticeable hickey against Parker’s pale skin. It’s not the right thing to do (he knows that) but it still soothes that pocket of jealousy that’s made a nice home in his chest. 

***

“Hey, are you okay?” Harry asks him over lunch a few weeks later. He leans over and grabs a fry from Peter’s tray, dips it in the pool of ketchup off to the side. 

Peter frowns at Harry’s question and his inability to eat his own food. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” 

Harry chews thoughtfully as he sits back and watches Peter. “Hmm. I don’t know, you’ve seemed off the past few weeks.” 

“Nope — I’m fine.” Peter lies breezily. 

“You’re seeing someone new, aren’t you?” And it comes out less like a question and more like a statement. Harry’s voice is cheerful without a hint of reproach as he merely crosses his arms with a self satisfied smirk and Peter feels his cheeks redden under the scrutiny of those pale blue eyes.  

“Eh. It’s complicated.” He waves it away. 

“Things always are with you aren’t they?” Harry chuckles lightly. “But seriously, what’s going on?”  

Peter shrugs, feeling a little awkward. 

“Come on. We’re friends! I know that look, that’s your relationship troubles look.” 

“I do not have a “relationship troubles” look.” He laughs and throws up air quotes that tease a smile out of Harry. 

“You’re such a bad liar, Peter. Lay it on me! I’m ready to dispense all my relationship wisdom.” Harry gives him a know-it-all grin and props his elbows on the table to create a perfect cradle for his chin. He leans forward attentively, eager to share his advice, and causes Peter to laugh. He’d forgotten how easy it was with Harry, how fun and charming he was. 

“Okay, fine.” Peter begrudgingly gives in, won over by Harry’s pleading eyes peeking out from under his fringe. “Remember when you asked what we were? Why did you do that? I mean, things were okay when we were just sleeping together, right? Why wasn’t that enough?”  

Harry gets a little crease between his eyebrows as he thinks. He stays silent for far too long and Peter briefly worries he’s overstepped their boundaries, but then Harry shrugs. 

“I had feelings for you.” He says simply. “I mean, I just couldn’t keep pretending that I didn’t have those feelings for you. It sucked to know you didn’t feel the same way, but I had to know. Better to end it before I got in over my head, you know?” 

Peter’s smile evaporates instantly. He nods solemnly as he stuffs a fry into his mouth, not sure how to respond given that Harry’s words hit a little too close to home. 

***

Those words rattle around in Peter’s head for a few days before Parker turns to him as they cuddle on the couch, Sandwich snuggled between them and happily accepting lazy head scratches. “You alright?” 

Peter nods, caught off guard. He knows he has to come clean about his feelings, even if they turn out to be too much, but when he looks into Parker’s eyes he finds any courage he might have gathered over the week to have withered away. “Yeah, yeah, I just have a lot on my mind. You know, midterms and all that…” He lies a bit, not willing to admit to Parker that he’s worried about messing up their situationship. “… and the anniversary of Ben’s death.” 

“Oh. Do you want to talk about it?” 

Peter shakes his head. “No.” 

Sandwich whines softly and he takes the distraction to avert his eyes from Parker’s questioning gaze. He scoops the dog into his arms and buries his face into his fur, running his fingers lightly over Sandwhich’s back. 

Parker’s eyes soften as he watches them and he nods gently. “Okay... I meant to mention this earlier, but I saw you with Harry earlier this week in the dining hall. I don’t want to be nosey or anything, but I never got a chance to ask: why didn’t things work out with him?”

Peter stays quiet for a few moments. It would be too easy to give a flippant answer (because I was absolutely obsessed with you), but he knows that’s not the whole story. “Because I was a really bad not-boyfriend.” 

He scrunches up his nose. “Okay, maybe that’s an overstatement, but I definitely wasn’t what Harry deserved. I was too emotionally unavailable and couldn’t return the feelings he had for me. Especially not when I had feelings for someone else.” Peter pauses, pensive. He gulps as he reveals an ugly piece of himself to Parker. “I was being selfish. I just didn’t want to be alone and…well, he was there. I really didn’t stop to think that I would hurt him if I strung him along. I really didn’t think he would develop feelings for me.” 

Peter lets out a nervous, shaky breath. “That’s a pretty lame excuse, isn’t it? I was too scared to be open and honest but I was also scared of being alone…” His voice trails off as he catches Parker’s look full of compassion and understanding. 

“I know exactly what you mean there.” Parker mumbles with a heavy sigh.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, with MJ. I was so selfish and she didn’t deserve any of that…” Parker frowns sadly. “I don’t think it’s a lame excuse, Peter.” 

Peter can tell that there’s something weighing on Parker’s mind and he sits in quiet anticipation to hear whatever he might say next. 

“I know what it’s like to be with someone but still love someone else.” Parker admits in a voice that’s so quiet and so mournful that all Peter can do is nod. There’s a certain tenderness to Parker, like a half healed bruise, and Peter understands that this isn’t the right moment to ask more from him. He places his hand on Parker’s arm and gives him a sympathetic look as his heart flutters uselessly in his chest. 

***

Peter knows that it’s a bad idea (probably one of his worst ideas, actually) to sleep with Parker that night, but he does it anyway. 

He lets his mind wander as Parker lays his body on top of his, slick fingers pulsing in and out of him. Peter gasps as he rocks needily against his hand, “Don’t stop. Please.” 

All he knows is that he wants, he wants, he wants even if it means getting his heart broken.

Parker nods and removes his hand, earning a whine from Peter. He quickly moves that hand to the hollow behind Peter’s knee and grasps tightly as he lines up to his hole and enters him, taking small experimental thrusts. Parker runs his fingers over the length of his thigh and Peter’s skin erupts in goosebumps causing him to shiver and let out a moan that Parker quickly captures in his mouth. He thrusts again, sinking deeper and deeper with each movement of his hips. Parker’s lips begin to pull away, but Peter threads his fingers in Parker’s close cropped hair and pulls him back desperately. He needs, he needs, he needs.

Peter plants his feet, giving as good as he takes, and encourages Parker to settle into an urgent rhythm that quickly has him shaking in near complete bliss. Parker gives a stuttered grunt in between stilted thrusts and finds the spot that has Peter clutching desperately at his shoulder as he reaches his own climax. In that moment of complete vulnerability, he wonders who Parker might see or hear as he shudders around him and calls out his name. 

“Peter…” 

The comedown from that high is almost an immediate crash. A sick feeling coils within Peter’s stomach as he thinks about Parker being in love with someone else and he rolls out of the bed soon after they’re done. 

“Was that alright?” Parker’s voice is tinged with worry as he watches Peter get dressed. He’s made it a point not to spend the night at Parker’s house, partly out of fear at being questioned by Gwen but mostly because they’ve never discussed that particular boundary, so he nods hurriedly to assuage any of Parker’s fears. 

“Yeah,” Peter nods again as he slips on his shirt. “That was great. You’re amazing. Really amazing.” He takes care to emphasize the word before placing a kiss on Parker's forehead and leaving. 

***

He hadn’t been lying to Parker when he had mentioned the first anniversary of Uncle Ben’s death. Peter watches the day tick closer with dread but steels himself to see Aunt May with a bouquet of lilies and a soft smile. He locks his aunt into a tight hug the second she opens the door and the grief doesn’t knock him over this time. Instead it washes over him, like a small wave, and he clings onto May to make it through.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Peter.” Her voice is muffled into his dark turtleneck and comes with a fresh round of tears.

“Me too.”

Together, they make the trek out to uncle Ben’s grave. As they sit silently in the car, grim faced and trying to keep a strong facade, Peter covers his aunt’s hand with his own. He provides a reassuring squeeze, even though he’s not sure for whose benefit it is. 

Before long, they’re standing by Ben’s final resting place and Peter finds himself reciting the Kaddish once again. The syllables are a little stilted this time, but he finds the strength to keep going the moment that May curls her hand into his. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and grounds himself in all those little moments of magic as he thinks about Ben — the feeling of the early spring sunshine as it warms his winter weary bones, the comforting smell of the Chinese food place down the street from his apartment, the wrinkles that form around his aunt’s eyes when he tells her a joke. He thinks about all the little moments that make his life a little brighter and he feels that ever present guilt claw at his chest, digging in to remind him that Ben won’t ever experience those moments ever again because of him.

Peter relives that night in his mind’s eye as he’s done nearly every night over the past year. He knows he could have done something to prevent Ben’s death. He thinks about how differently things might have gone if he had been brave and selfless like Ben had been. If only he had stopped the thief, if only he hadn’t argued with the cashier. If only, if only, if only.

Most of all, he thinks about someday having the courage to tell May everything that happened that night. 

“Are you okay, Peter?” May’s voice cuts through his guilty conscience. 

He nods hastily, eyes still closed as he gulps past that regret and shame. 

“Peter…” She says in that particular tone of hers: the one she would use when he would lie about cleaning his room and instead find dirty laundry and toys stuffed under his bed. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m sorry.” Peter mumbles quietly, opening his eyes to squint against the too bright sky. “I’m sorry.” He repeats because it’s the truth; he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to convey how sorry he is. 

“I know you are, Peter. But you don’t have to be.” She pauses and the intensity of her stare causes the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. “I just want to know that you’re okay.”

Peter nods. “I’m fine, May. Really.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but he hopes it’s convincing enough. He’s not sure how much he can say without breaking down into a blubbering mess. 

“I know you blame yourself Peter, but I just want you to know…I love you no matter what. You don’t have to explain anything to me.” She rubs his hand and he feels his body relax with relief for a moment. 

“May, I-” He stops short, unable to finish his sentence because he’s just sorry about everything. He’s sorry about Ben, for not telling the truth, not visiting her more often, and a thousand other things his mind will remind him about later that night.  

“Don’t be sorry, Peter.” She says with an understanding tone, as if she can read his mind. “I know you. If there’s one thing you are, it's good.” 

All Peter can do is nod around the tears as his Aunt May wraps him into a hug that he knows he doesn’t deserve. “I just want you to be happy, Peter.”

***

May's words weigh on Peter for the rest of the afternoon and he spends half of his bus ride thinking about his guilt — can he really be a good person when he knows he’s responsible for his uncle’s death? It’s a big question that he’s slowly realizing is too much for just himself to answer. He grinds his fingers against his eyes and rests his head against the bus’ windows. He’s just so very tired of feeling alone. He needs someone who understands. 

Parker. 

Peter drops his elbows to his knees and cradles his head in his hands as he deliberates between heading home and seeing Parker. He aches for that comfort, but an unspoken fear holds him back and tells him that it’s a very, very bad idea. Parker isn’t a therapist and it’s unfair of him to constantly seek him out like this. However, the need wins out in the end and Peter allows himself to miss his connection’s stop and ride towards Parker’s house. He takes his time walking, unsure of what excuse to give Parker, but he soon finds himself knocking on his door, fingers metaphorically crossed, hoping that he’s there. 

“Hey…” Parker opens the door with a start and blinks rapidly, bewildered. “What are you doing here? 

“Sorry.” Peter winces, feeling like a pest. He brings his hand behind his neck and lowers his gaze, embarrassed. “I just wanted to see you.” 

“No, that’s okay.” Peter’s eyebrows furrow as he tilts his head and gets a far away look in his eyes that lasts only a second. “Sorry, I just got deja vu.” 

“What?” 

“Yeah, you just…” Parker pauses as he closes his eyes and shakes his head, trying to knock a memory out. “You remind me of someone I used to know. Come in.”

Peter nods gratefully and steps in, lingering in Parker’s cramped doorway. He’s not sure what exactly he’s here for, but he just knows how much he needs Parker. “Sorry for coming over without calling…I just didn’t know where to go.” He’s surprised by how thick his voice sounds, but tries his best not to let it waver and rubs his eyes as he feels tears spring up. 

“It’s alright.” Parker gives him a sympathetic smile as he watches him. “Do you want some tea or to talk about it?”

“No. Can we just-” Peter hesitates before launching himself into Parker’s arms, earning a surprised oof. He holds Parker tightly, pressing his face down into the crook of his shoulder and breathing in the comforting smell of his shampoo. He feels a heaving sob erupt from his chest as Parker’s arms come up to encircle him. Peter tries to stem the flow of the tears as Parker rubs soothing circles on his back. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” Parker repeats quietly in his ear as he grips Peter closer and buries his face in the dark fabric of Peter’s turtleneck. Peter hears him inhale deeply. “It’s okay.” 

***

It takes them a week to talk about that moment. Something in their relationship has shifted and Peter worries that perhaps he’s misinterpreted Parker’s feelings for him. That moment of complete vulnerability was a mistake, Parker’s body language seems to say. 

That’s why he feels the need to say something about it after one of their dinner nights. “We’re okay, right?” Peter asks tentatively as they curl up on the couch and Parker scrolls absentmindedly through the tv.

“What do you mean?” Parker pauses and sets the remote down to look at him. 

“You know — last week. I’m sorry if I came on-” He winces and curves his mouth down in an apologetic frown. He can feel a confession about to come out of him, unbidden and unwanted.

“No, it’s alright.” Parker waves it off but his mouth twists slightly. 

“Sorry, I’m just worried that I ruined your night or interrupted something. I don’t know.” Peter untangles himself from Parker to give him space and to better study him against the television’s muted glow. 

“You could never ruin my night.” Parker’s voice is sincere, but Peter still sees a guarded look in his eyes that makes him nervous.

“Sure. But —I don’t know it felt like-“

“Like what?”

Peter gulps, scared to admit his ever growing feelings for Parker and to voice that he needs more. “I don’t know. It just felt different.”

“I guess? Is it because you were crying?” Parker gets a crease between his eyebrows and bright blue eyes blink in confusion. “Peter, you don’t have to apologize for crying.” 

“No, it’s not that.” He licks his lips to stall as he visibly struggles to explain to Parker how intimate and special that moment was.“I don’t know how, but sometimes you just get me in a way no one ever has before.”

Parker gives him a long, sad sigh. “Peter, when I said I understood about Uncle Ben, I meant…I meant that I’ve been in that situation before.”

Peter starts opening his mouth to respond when he hears Parker gulp. 

“I’ve told you about Harry, my Harry, right? He was my best friend.”

“Yeah…” Peter breathes as he notices Parker’s slight tremble and the way he rubs absentmindedly at his wrist, as if trying to steady himself. 

“Um, a few years ago, Harry and I were in a car accident. A really bad car accident. I was driving and well-“ Parker blinks up at the ceiling as Peter starts putting the pieces together. “He died. He was my best friend and he died in my arms.” 

Parker’s voice cracks slightly and he takes a long breath. For a moment, all the air in the apartment stills, as if trying to hold space for that revelation. 

“Oh.”
“So, yeah. I get it. I mean, it’s different, but still.” Parker shrugs listlessly as his mouth slopes down. “I know what it’s like to feel responsible for someone’s death and to carry that guilt every single day.”

Peter looks at Parker, as if seeing him for the first time. It all clicks into place as he takes in the tired sag of his shoulders and the deep sadness in his eyes. The way he called him his Harry. He glances at the photograph that Parker showed him the very first time he was in his apartment — it’s been in front of him this whole time. “Oh. You were in love with him, weren’t you?” 

Parker’s eyes go wide, startled for a second, before they give way to resigned relief. “That obvious, huh?” 

“No,” Peter shakes his head with a fake smile. He lets out a rattling breath. “Tell me more, though. I want to hear more about him.” 

His heart breaks quietly as he realizes that there’s a chance that Parker’s heart was claimed a long time ago. He watches the way Parker's face lights up as he talks about Harry. Peter’s heard bits of this before — Parker meeting Harry, becoming best friends in high school, rooming together in midtown Manhattan — but it doesn’t compare to seeing that incredibly deep love for Harry so clearly laid out for him. Even though it’s just the two of them in that apartment, he still feels like the third wheel to a ghost. 

“I regret I never told him how I felt.” Parker admits quietly, the shadows of his face deepened by the blue glow of the television screen. “Even when he was dying, I didn’t have the courage to tell him that I loved him. I hope he knew, though. I just felt like such a coward.” Parker takes a long, sobering breath as he steeples his fingers over his nose and runs them down his face, eyes lost in a memory. “Would you believe that I haven't been back to his grave since the funeral? I know it doesn’t mean anything, but I just wish…”

Peter nods shakily, unable to speak. What can he even say, anyway? Instead, he rubs a hand down Parker’s arm and wonders what it would be like to be loved so fiercely, even in death, as wet blue eyes turn to look at him.