One second they’re okay; Peter’s laughing with him about something so dumb he doesn’t even remember. They’re drinking their breakfast smoothies at their regular seat by the cafe window before the bomb goes off, and there’s just white noise followed by a painful ringing in Harry’s ears that brings him to his knees. And it’s like the hero in Peter clicks, because he’s left his smoothie behind, helping Harry up before running towards the exit to the adjacent alley, probably to change into his suit.
Harry is quick to follow, getting his gear on quickly and raising his hood to put on his mask. He uses his glider to carry some civilians out of the way so Peter can do his thing, and maybe crack a few bad jokes along the way.
They’re still okay. Harry knows because Spider-Man throws a thumbs up his way. He can practically see Peter’s smile through his mask.
They’re still okay, but Harry keeps his eye out. Just in case.
Peter gets the bomb disarmed just in time, webbing the baddies who planted it to a lampost for the cops. A few of the bystanders cheer, “That’s our Spidey!” while others comment on the damage but Harry’s busy watching Peter swing back down to the alley and run back out pretending to be baffled by the scene.
They slip back into the cafe to finish up their smoothies and idle conversation, and Harry has a feeling that today he will be lucky and Peter will be the Peter he’s always known.
-
“Stop getting in my way, Osborn.” Peter scoffs, pushing Harry away with the palms of his hands. Harry stumbles backward in an effort to keep himself balanced before trying once more. It’s like Harry doesn’t even know him. It’s Peter’s face, but somehow the way he wears his expressions are all different, and it’s Peter’s voice, but somehow the way he articulates himself is bizarrely unfamiliar.
“Pete, please. I’m just trying to understand” Harry begs as he tries to wrap his mind around why Peter is being so mean. Everything was okay like it always is, until it wasn’t anymore, and suddenly Spiderman is yelling at him, grabbing the collar of his shirt and driving his back up the building’s brick wall, because somehow it’s his fault that Electro got away.
Spider-Man takes big, menacing steps toward him and Harry is scared . For the first time in all of the years they’ve known each other, Harry is scared of his best friend and boyfriend. He knows Peter would never hurt him, not on purpose anyway, but when Pete’s hands are in fists by his sides, and the eyes of his mask make a scowl in a way only Peter’s tech can, Harry is terrified.
And he realizes he should be when one of the fists by Peter’s side isn’t there anymore, but right in front of Harry’s face. He tries to brace for the impact but he’s shaking so hard he can’t steady himself. Harry squeezes his eyes shut.
The punch never comes.
When he opens his eyes again, Peter has taken off his mask and placed his hands firmly on Harry’s shaking shoulders.
Harry pushes him away, body still wriggling with tremors.
“What the fuck?” Harry shouts. Peter winces before inching closer, like Harry is some hurt animal, and Harry pushes him again with all the force he can muster even though it doesn’t send Peter very far.
“I’m so sorry Harry-“ Peter tries, but Harry just steps forward and pushes him again.
“The fuck’s wrong with you?!” Harry can feel himself starting to break down, “Why would you do that? How am I getting in your way? I just wanna know what’s wrong Peter.” The tears at coming hot down Harry’s face and he just wants to leave. But part of him wants Peter to hold him tight and say something stupid, like it was just a prank to see his reaction.
Peter grabs him into a hug and Harry lets himself become engulfed by Spider-Man’s strong arms. He snuggles into the crook of Peter’s neck and takes in the smells of sweat and the city. Peter’s hands are running through his hair and his lips are placing kisses on the top of his head, and Harry just wants this moment to freeze. He wants to forget Peter yelling at him, trying to hurt him, and keep the good parts like this.
“I’m sorry baby, I’m so sorry.” Peter chants like a mantra, and his voice is so coarse, Harry knows he means it.
But he can’t stop the shaking. He can’t let go of the fear.
He wraps his arms around Peter’s neck and looks him deep in the eyes to remind himself, this is the man he loves with all his heart.
Peter looks so tired, and so concerned. His eyebrows are knitted with guilt, and Harry kisses where the skin folds and bunches up and watches as the tension dissipates from Peter’s forehead.
“I’m so sorry, Harry. I-I don’t know what I was thinking.” Peter says, and Harry can’t bring himself to say anything but,
“Electro’s getting away.”
-
“I don’t need help from a guy that made a fucking weapon and practically handed it to Smythe on a silver platter.” Peter growls and Harry is taken aback, wide, steely eyes brimming with salty tears. Harry doesn’t understand - they were fine a minute ago. Peter was picking out books right next to him, and they were talking about agriculture of all things. How this made its way into the conversation, Harry doesn’t know, but he plays along. He already knows how this’ll end, it’s happened so many times before, but he hopes Peter will change things this time around. He wants to give him a chance to let things play out differently.
“You don’t mean that,” Harry says, although it sounds more like he’s just trying to convince himself than confront Peter at this point. He grabs Peter by the wrist so he can’t walk away from the conversation like he’s done all those times before.
“ Let go. ” The words are sharp and unfamiliar coming from Peter's mouth, and Harry almost obliges. But he doesn’t, choosing to tighten his grip on Peter’s wrist instead.
“I’m not going to do that until you tell me what's going on Pete!” He adds, after a beat or two, “Please,” and it's barely a whisper, but Harry senses that with the way Peter settles, he heard it.
It's just them staring each other down, eyeing each other hesitantly, taking in dark circles and red eyes. Harry shifts closer, moving to stroke some of the more uncooperative strands of Peter’s unkempt hair, but before he can, his hand is painfully swatted away. His heart dips into the pit of his stomach.
“What’s happening Pete?” Harry pleads voice on the verge of cracking, hand never leaving its death grip on Peter’s wrist, “Talk to me.”
“Nothing.” Peter casually answers using his spider-strength to rip away from Harry’s grasp. Harry knows it’s something. Harry knows it’s fucking something, because the Peter he knows has forgiven Harry for the whole mech incident, and would never use his spider strength, no matter how dialed down, to hurt him. The Peter he knows would never let Harry worry about him like this.
But the words are stuck in his throat as Peter turns around to leave all his books and Harry behind. And without doing as much as stopping or looking back, Peter utters an unwavering, “I don’t need you, Harry Osborn.” Something in Harry snaps as he’s standing there in the empty back corner of the library watching Peter walk away like Harry is nothing to him.
Hot, wet, angry tears pour down his cheeks, each one racing to see which can get to the hem of his shirt first, and Harry’s eyes are almost too blurry to see Peter turn around. And for the second time in the short span of 5 minutes, Harry doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand why he even bothers to cry when Peter’s said this for what feels like a million times already. He doesn’t know why he even bothers to cry when he knows, deep down, it isn’t Peter saying the words at all.
And when Harry can see clearly again, wiping away his stinging tears from his bloodshot eyes, Peter pushes him rough against one of the library shelves, their faces a mere centimeter apart.
Harry lets it happen; this isn’t the first time in the last few days anyway.
He’s just tired of this, of Peter being all hot and cold. He’s tired of Peter not telling him what’s wrong, telling him off and leaving, only to just turn around and say he’s sorry for getting angry and kiss Harry’s frustrated tears away. He’s tired of the secrets, of not being trusted enough to know how Peter’s feeling and why. Peter not telling him he was Spiderman should’ve been where the lies stopped.
He thinks something’s different about this time, though, when Peter doesn’t say a word before he lets their lips come crashing together so hard Harry thinks he tastes blood. Peter is rough against his mouth like he’s never been before, not in his words and not in his embrace, but Harry still sighs into the warmth of the tongue exploring his own.
When they break away, Harry is gasping for air, completely dazed and distracted by the way Peter stares into his half-lidded eyes. He rolls them back into his skull and melts into Peter’s touch - warm, tracing little circles on his back.
Harry doesn’t even realize the tears haven’t stopped flowing from his eyes until he feels the fabric from his place on Peter’s shoulder all soggy.
Peter doesn’t say anything. No words of apology or affirmation, nothing to calm him down - just silence. He just looks at Harry, deep in the eyes with an expression Harry thinks he’ll never fully comprehend.
As he’s looking into glossy green eyes, Harry thinks to himself that his Peter is lost somewhere, deep down inside them.
-
Harry learns that Miles, Anya, and Gwen have their own little stories to share about Peter’s recent behaviors. They’re nothing pretty, not that Harry expects them to be, but they’re also nothing like his own. Peter has been nothing short of rude and arrogant, but never once has he lifted a hand at them or said something that shook their very core. But maybe Harry is just weaker when it comes to Peter - in more ways than one.
Peter’s voice chants a resolved, “I don’t need you, Harry Osborn.” like a mantra in Harry’s brain, over and over until it’s so loud in his head, Harry can’t even hear himself think . He swallows, eyes darting frantically from left to right, scanning the cafe for something to take his brain off Peter’s shattering declaration. He thinks of Peter’s fist curled up in front of his face, locked in a perpetual swing that stops seconds short of the longer strands of his hair. He lifts his hands tenderly and covers his face, but it’s no use because he can think of the fist more vividly in the blackness of his closed eyes.
Miles shakes him from his spiral with a careful hand on his shoulder and Gwen hands him one of the smoothies she’d been waiting in line for.
Anya’s brows are furrowed, pensive, when he tells her what he has to share. He leaves things out, the bad ones like the fist and the “I don’t need you,”, but he supposes Anya connects the dots all on her own with the way her frown twitches every time he stutters.
Her girlfriend is quick to make Peter out to be the villain in the situation, just as she's done before, and of course her claims carry substance given what Peter had said and done, but Harry and Miles vouch for Peter and his innocence. After all, Gwen and Anya don’t know about all of Peter’s efforts as Spider-Man.
“Why are you on his side with this? What if he hurt you, Harry?” Gwen questions, anger seeping out of the words. Harry might have thought she was angry with him too, but he knows better than that. She’s a good friend and has his best interests in mind. Harry thinks it’s like a punch in the gut to learn she no longer believes Peter is one of those best interests.
“He didn’t. And he didn’t mean to-” Anya interrupts him with a dry laugh.
“But he could’ve, and he nearly did.” She says accusingly, “If it was up to me, I’d spider-strength his ass out of the city just for thinking about laying a hand on you.” and that’s enough for Miles to cut in with a grounding, “ Enough .”
“We get it. He’s in the wrong. And there shouldn’t be a way to justify his actions. Not in normal circumstances anyway.” Miles says glazing at Harry who shuffles a little in his seat.
“What circumstance justifies verbally and physically abusing your boyfriend ?” Gwen hissed and this time it was Harry who shot her a glare.
“He didn’t abuse me. It’s Peter . He’s just not-” He struggles to find the right words, the ones he’s been using to convince himself too, “he’s just not the Peter we know.”
“What does that even mean?” Anya demands. Harry finds himself brewing with a wave of misplaced anger; He knows he’s lucky to have friends like Gwen and Anya, who would gladly bury anyone who as much as spoke badly about him. It worked well when paparazzi were looming in the shadows, the girlfriends could scare them away with a well-timed look. But this was Peter they were talking about. The same Peter who loved his Aunt May and her wheat cakes in all their glory, the same Peter who went to sleep with his stuffed elephant Señor Trunks every night, and the same Peter who could make anyone smile in a matter of seconds. The same Peter who they called best friend for over four years now.
And because Harry is in love with Peter and will never stop fighting for Peter, he lets himself declare what he’s been trying to convince himself all along:
“I don't think he’s in control of himself. I don’t think it’s Peter doing and saying those things at all.”
-
Yes, Harry loves Peter. He just needs a break - needs to be able to focus on Oscorp and university. He hasn’t had much luck lately with Gwen and Anya pestering him to break up with his ‘abusive’ boyfriend and Peter nearly changing Harry’s mind about his trust in him more times than one.
So Harry does the logical thing and ignores them - all of them. He’s been practically living in his office for four days now, only leaving if he has a class to attend or needs a breath of fresh air.
Harry knows Peter isn’t abusive and he never could be, but these days Peter likes to test the waters and prove him wrong. Just the thought of it keeps him up at night for hours on end; Peter has been scary as of late and all Harry can see when he closes his eyes is Peter’s fist in front of his face.
But he’s not going to break up with him . Harry is in love with Peter, Peter is in love with Harry. They’ve known each other forever, and Peter has never been like this. He wants to think it’s not Peter at all because Peter would never hurt Harry.
Except it is Peter, and he did hurt Harry.
When his phone vibrates under some paperwork cluttered on his desk Harry moves laggardly to get it. It’s a call from Miles and not Peter or Gwen or Anya, so he slides the answer button and listens to the hazy chirping and chatter from the other line.
“Hello?” he starts and prays it isn’t Peter using Miles' phone since Harry has ignored all of his calls.
“Why do you sound like that?” Miles' crystal clear and concerned voice fills his ears and Harry’s shoulders relax from where they were hunched at his ears.
“Like what?”
“Like tired? Have you been sleeping alright?” Miles asks and Harry lets himself sigh and run his hands through his hair messily.
“I’ve got a lotta work is all,” Harry lies because he doesn’t want to admit that Peter is the one keeping him awake, “I’ll take a nap soon, don’t worry.”
“Well, you better. I’m worried man - Gwen and Anya are worried. And don’t get me started on Peter .” Harry thinks Miles sounds tired too when he breathes a sigh into the phone and continues, “He’s been throwing violent little hissy fits on patrol when you don’t answer his calls or texts.”
There’s a bit of fuzzy silence on the line, and Harry can tell from the noises in the background that Miles is likely on patrol.
“When are you gonna stop ignoring him?” The question comes just the way Harry expects, quiet and careful, a little exhaustion enveloping Miles’ voice.
Harry stays quiet for a while, before, “I want to, it’s just - I can’t.”
Harry doesn’t want to say it, but he doesn’t want to keep it in any longer, “It’s not something I’m proud of, you know this. He’s my best friend and boyfriend but- I’m scared Miles.”
“Harry-”
And before he knows it, everything comes out like a waterfall despite his best attempts at keeping these unruly thoughts at bay, “Not of him, just how he’s acting . It’s so unlike him- I feel so horrible for it, but I just don’t want to be around him. Not right now.”
Miles just barely breathes out a, “Oh, Harry I know.”, and Harry wants to cry.
“Don’t feel bad for taking care of yourself. He shouldn’t have- I don't even know why he did - but he shouldn’t have said that shit or tried to hurt you like that.” Miles’ voice is so soft and gentle, Harry is so grateful he doesn’t judge him the way Gwen and Anya do, “You and I both know Peter isn’t like this. We’ll get to the bottom of this Har, I promise.”
Miles is just as kind and understanding as always and Harry doesn’t know how much he’s taken that for granted until now. And maybe, just maybe, Harry can rest easy. Especially with a promise from Miles. He breathes out through the part of his lips and lets his head fall back against the headrest of his office chair.
And then, reality knocks headlong on the thick glass of his window on the 88th floor of the Oscorp tower.
When he whips around in his office chair, Harry is greeted by a grinning Spider-Man, mask off. Peter looks sunkissed and gorgeous like this, Harry thinks, and he loves the way the wind and the rays of golden sun filter through his hair as he descends from a thin string of web and stands on his balcony. He’s holding flowers - red camellias, Harry’s favorite - and waiting patiently for what Harry assumes is him opening the balcony door to let him in.
And Harry feels it’s only natural to feel ashamed of himself when the thought of keeping his guards posted by the balcony and entrance to his office in the future crosses his mind. He doesn’t want Peter to ever know he even thought that because of him , so Harry dons his best media smile and gives the door a gentle pull.
Peter slips in with all the grace of a spider and proceeds to clobber his boyfriend with a hug and several kisses to the cheeks. Harry nearly flinches at the contact, but he’s glad he doesn’t. Peter hands him the flowers and Harry mumbles a flustered, “Thanks, Pete.” putting them into an empty vase on his desk.
“I know you’re busy, but I was hoping I could, I dunno, drop by? Give you company while you work?” Peter offers, and Harry is surprised he doesn’t mention anything about all the missed calls and texts. Peter is acting surprisingly normal , like the time rewound a week back when everything in Harry’s life was as calm as it could be while managing an international company and fighting crime in his free time.
“I can leave if it’s a bad time Har, don’t worry,” Peter says when Harry stays silent, lost in his own thought. Harry shakes his head no, and urges Peter to “Stay.”
He picks up his phone where Miles is saying, “Hello?” for what seems like the 8th time and quickly gives him a, “Hey man, I’ll call you back. Peter’s here.”, and before Miles can even finish saying “What?!” he ends the call.
“Was that Miles?” Peter points to the phone in Harry’s hands. Harry can’t quite read his tone, but there isn’t any malice in it. He figures that’s a good thing.
“Yeah, just checking up and all,” He answers, not really knowing what else to say to ensure he isn’t giving himself away. Peter simply smiles and shrugs, not questioning anything. Harry is baffled. But he thinks he might be too tired to delve into it as he yawns into the back of his hand.
“Have you been working instead of sleeping again, Harry?” Peter takes Harry’s free hand and rubs the knuckles gingerly, an ordinary affection Harry has missed dearly over the last couple of days. Harry isn’t normally a sucker for affection, in fact, he's often told he spends a fair share of his time being cold and calculated, but he can’t help but bask in all the love and attention Peter has been offering - especially when Harry feels like his Peter’s back again.
And suddenly, Harry wants to cry , and maybe Peter realizes because he’s scrambling to ask, “What’s wrong?”, to which Harry doesn’t have a straight answer. He squeezes his eyes shut so the tears that pierce his eyes with a salty sting don’t come dribbling out, and shakes his head no with another one of those media smiles - holding back on the pearly white this time.
“I’m just tired, Pete. Haven’t slept too well the last few nights.” and maybe it’s because Harry is tired and his brain isn’t thinking right, or maybe Harry is secretly a sucker for affection when it comes to Peter, he feels his lips move to say, “I was thinking we could go up to the penthouse. I’d love to take a nap right about now.”
When they’re in the comfort only a soft and warm bed can offer and Peter’s hands are smooth, running through Harry’s hair, Harry thinks, maybe he can put things in the past.
-
Harry realizes he can’t put things in the past when they don’t stay in the past. Ghost Spider is suppressing an enraged Spider-Man from charging at Black Cat, who is already in handcuffs. She’s already got a black eye from where Peter socked her in the face while she was already down, and Spider-Girl makes a risky joke, “I think this is the first time he’s been on the other side of the webbing.”
Spy-D is making a point of apologizing to Chief Watanabe in the kindest manner, all the while pulling some lame excuse as to why Spider-Man’s been so erratic recently. Peter is still struggling, futilely, against webbing of his own design, and Gwen’s hold on him is wearing slightly. Probably because she’s distracted, staring at her girlfriend who looks over her shoulder to downplay her disapproval and give Peter a thumbs down.
It’s just for a split second, Gwen’s grip falters after being flustered by something Anya says that Harry doesn’t quite pick up, but it’s enough for Peter to break through and come charging at Black Cat who is being led into a police car. Peter is livid, but Harry is quick to act. He steps in front of him drawing the flaming sword in his grip and brandishing it carefully at Peter.
“Calm down Spidey. She’s already down, drop it okay?” He says low, but not menacing, but maybe it’s hard not to seem menacing when you’re waving a sword of fire in someone’s face.
“Hobgoblin, wait.” Miles calls knowingly but Harry doesn’t budge from where he’s standing to block Peter. He does, however, lower his sword.
“Out of my way, Goblin,” Spider-Man says, but Harry stands his ground. Gwen grabs Peter once again, while Anya webs him.
“Listen Spidey, I dunno what’s up with you, but I’m thinking we’re gonna have to let you sit this one out.” Gwen quips as Spider-Man struggles under her grip.
“I can take him home- I mean for a walk, to cool off.” Harry tries, remembering Gwen and Anya don’t know that Peter is Spider-Man or that Harry knows who Spider-Man really is. Miles is quick to shake off that idea.
Miles is quick to see the red flags surrounding that idea though and instead suggests, “I think it’s better if we keep him under our collective supervision tonight.”
“Here that Spidey? You're on time-out.” Anya says patting said hero’s head.
And that’s when everything changes. Peter’s struggling ends and he looks around, confused .
“Hey guys! What's with the webs?” He says awkwardly, gesturing with his head at the webbing around his arms and torso to suppress him. Harry merely blinks under his mask.
“What do you mean?” Harry asks, careful, testing Peter and what he has made of the situation.
“I mean, why am I being held down...?” the Spider-Man mask has never looked so unsure in all its time exposed to city smog.
“You don’t remember?” Miles asks mimicking Harry’s technique, slow and careful, as not to influence Peter’s answer.
“Well- I mean- I remember we found Black Cat?”
“Anything past that?” Anya asks, fingers tapping on her chin in a pensive but impatient manner.
“I- Um, no, not really.”
Harry feels like celebrating because it’s like his hypothesis has been proved. There is something up with Peter.
“Hey Miles, you and Ms.M are buddies, right? Think you could get the Avengers to do us a solid and check him out?” Gwen says, helping to rip the webbing off of Peter the best she can with Harry.
-
“Uh-huh, and how long has he been like this for?” Ironheart asks as she shines a beam of light into Peter's eyes to check for dilation. Thankfully, Riri’s seen both Harry, Peter, and Miles without their masks, which makes a cranial nerve exam all the easier.
“I’m right here you know?” Peter says, to which Amadeus answers, “Yeah, but it isn’t like you remember enough to let us know, genius.”
“Like two weeks now?” Harry answers, holding Peter’s hand and stroking the back of it gingerly with his thumb.
Kamala walks in with a newcomer, Nova, who Miles seems to know well already, greeting him with a, “Hey Sam.”
“Dude, secret I.D. remember?” ‘Sam’ nudges Miles in the arm and Miles squeezes out an apology.
“You know, this would be a whole lot easier if there were less people in the room.” Riri stops and turns around to glare down everyone but Peter this time, and Kamala urges Amadeus, Miles, and Sam out of the room. Riri turns back and looks at Harry expectantly.
“Oh, you meant me too.” Harry realizes, reluctantly letting go of Peter’s hand.
“Relax Osborn, he’s in good hands.” Riri smiles.
“I know.” Harry is more than hopeful.
-
The tiniest bit of the V252 symbiote dances curiously in a test tube in front of him, and Harry is in awe as to how such a small bit of goop managed to make Peter act the way he did.
It’s tempting to ask for a sample so he can go and study it, but Harry knows not to. Not after everything it did.
Peter is asleep on one of the couches; the extraction process did a number on him. The alien goop was lodged deep in his brain and Riri used concentrated sound waves to urge it out.
Harry looks at where Peter is fast asleep on one of the couches. He looks so gentle this way, and what hurt him before can’t hurt him anymore.
He walks toward the couch and takes the seat by Peter’s resting head and twirls the soft brown locks.
Riri breaks the comfortable silence with the clearing of her throat, “So, aggressive and hostile behavior.” She leaves it at that at first, letting it sit on her tongue and in Harry’s ears and on every particle of dust in the room. Harry almost wants to run up and sush her even after she’s said what she has because he wants to forget it. His Peter is back to him now, so it doesn’t matter anyway.
“You gonna tell him, or...” She says again, and Harry interrupts her, “He knows a little of it. But I don’t think I’ll be telling him anything.”
“Ah.” She breathes, almost awkwardly,
“Right.”
-
They’re sitting in a car of the Ferris Wheel on Coney Island, watching the sunset over the sea. Harry thinks they deserve this - a day off - especially after Peter’s head is still aching from the extraction from the day before. It’s quiet, peaceful , and Harry has needed this for so long. He’s sure Peter has too, whether he knew it or not.
Harry shifts his gaze from the window of the car to Peter who is still and quiet, sitting across from him. His features are laced in a near grimace before he says,
“Last time I was a host, I acted… different . Like really different. I’m sure you remember, ‘H.O.’.”
Harry gives out a dry, nervous chuckle but lets Peter continue nonetheless.
“Did I do anything... weird ? Because it seems like Anya and Gwen suddenly hate me. Said something about hurting you-”
“No.” Harry says, because that’s all he can. He doesn’t want to have this conversation, not now at least. Not when Peter looks so pretty in the cotton candy light of the sky shining through the window.
“No?” Peter asks, looking so fragile and honest, Harry doesn’t want these expressions on his face. He wants him to be happy, after all that. He wants to bury everything about Peter hurting him and Venom existing .
“Never. You could never hurt me.”
“Harry we need to talk about this.” Peter is adamant, forehead wrinkling in worry Harry doesn’t need him to show. He grabs Harry’s hands in an effort to get him to open up but it’s already buried too deep inside Harry’s mind.
“ Harry .” Peter pleads when Harry remains silent. They’ve reached the top of the Ferris wheel and Harry looks out the window and remembers this view. Where Peter first asked him out, where they had their first kiss.
“Please Har-” Peter’s voice muffles into an ‘umph’ when it crashes against Harry’s lips. Peter’s lips are dry and chapped, but warm and welcoming all the same. His hands against Harry’s own are strong, and absolute, like he doesn’t plan on ever letting go. In and out, through and through, this is the Peter Harry has been longing for.
When they step out of the car disheveled, Harry moves to fix Peter’s hair and then his own before Miles can get close enough notice. Kamala, who comes from behind him with ‘Sam’ from earlier, does notice and nudges him and Peter in the shoulders for it.
Peter laughs with a little, “Stop, man!” before Harry can grab his hand and drag him away from their teasing counterparts. They escape to an area filled with carnival games and the sweet scent of funnel cake. One of the booth’s prizes are exclusively Spider-Man themed, and there’s a small stuffed bear with a Spider-Man on hoodie that catches Harry’s eye. Some men and women are trying their hand at the high striker game, slamming the pressure-sensitive plate with a large mallet the best they can.
It seems impossible to win. But last time Harry checked, none of them were dating the Spider-Man.
“Hey Mr.Spider, how about you show them how it’s done and win me that prize?” Harry says pointing to the Spider-Man teddy he so desperately wants. Peter presses his lips into a thin line.
“If this is you trying to distract me from our conversation earlier, it’s not working.” Peter retorts with no real fire in his tone, but instead a worried gaze.
“We’ll talk about it, Pete. I promise. Stuffed animal, now.” Harry demands and his shoulders relax when he sees that it makes Peter laugh, no matter how a little. Peter presses a soft kiss onto Harry’s cheek with a, “yes sir,” and Harry’s knees threaten to turn to jelly.
They’ll be ok.
-
(And if Peter and Harry carry home more stuffed animals than they know what to do with, nobody says a thing.)