ONE
Peter Parker was your dream man. He was funny and charming, a little shy; nice, smart, and handsome. His chocolate brown eyes transmitted warmth and at that moment, as you looked at him across the library, those eyes were gazing at his girlfriend while he told her what you assumed to be one of his lame jokes. Peter Parker was your dream man, and you weren’t his dream woman. You weren’t tall, nor blonde, nor thin, nor charming— you weren’t Gwen Stacy.
You turned your attention back to the stupid paper you were redacting. It wasn’t stupid per se, the topic was interesting enough for you to not hate it— what you hated was the fact that you were there because Tony had sent you. Your mentor was still overprotective of Peter, Thanos’ snap was too fresh in everyone’s memory so you didn’t have the heart to tell him any when he begged you with those big puppy eyes of his to watch Peter in his college life.
Your college life had differed greatly from his, from most, it had been way lonelier and stressful. You loved science, it wasn’t difficult for you to get into med school— it hadn’t even been difficult to double major in medicine and biochemistry, but you had been so used to be homeschooled that being around people fucked with your mental health. Tony said it was normal, you liked to think it was but you would be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t wanted to drop out. The only reason you didn’t switch to an online career was your love for medicine since you were a child, you wanted to save people, make a change. Help people like you hadn’t been able to help your mother.
Maybe your college life had been tough because you missed your mother, or because you went through it without Peter and Ned. The only friend you had at the time were Tony, Nat, Pepper, and Morgan. Five years around adults and a child while mourning your mother and your best friends was a punch in the gut, a constant one. You thought you had been done with it, you envisioned yourself working to get your medical license and maybe learn a new language or whatever.
You cursed Tony as you walked toward the Avenger Compound alongside Peter and Gwen. Leaving the campus with him, as if he was a child who needed a babysitter, was annoying; you could’ve left hours ago, be with Bruce in the lab doing more important things that trailing behind your crush and his gorgeous girlfriend.
Tony was waiting for the three of you to get home like he did every day, smiling with a twinkle in those warm eyes you could never say no to.
”We have a new engineer in chief! Pepper won't be in a bad mood for the week!” he said happily. After everything Quentin Beck tried to do to discredit him and hurt Peter, he had struggled to find someone trustworthy. ”I’m hoping someone here won't fuck him, though.”
You clenched your jaw when Gwen laughed. ”You should hope they don't turn into a supervillain.”
”So you really really fucked him?!” Peter had asked the same thing every time Tony mentioned Quentin.
”Of course I did, Pete,” you said with feigned confidence, ”didn’t you see him?”
”He was older than you!”
”And it showed.”
Tony snorted, shaking his head. ”I’m a terrible influence on you.”
”You’re not mad, Mr. Stark?” Gwen’s question made you fight a wince.
”She didn’t know who he was.”
Gwen wanted to ask more about it, you were sure of it. And because you were sure you disappeared into the main hallway and made a turn in direction to the lab. You had never spoken with a woman about your sex life, or with someone that wasn't Tony in an explicit manner. The topic was sensitive, you suffered a lot to gain the confidence to get sexually involved with someone because of how insecure you were, and when you finally had the guy turned out to be using you for information.
Information you never gave, but you still felt bad for having fallen for the trick so easily. Maybe Quentin had enjoyed it too, and maybe he didn’t have a lot against you and was only doing what was logical: gain Tony Stark’s protege’s trust to get access to the genius billionaire’s creations. But maybe you should’ve been less naive, maybe you were so desperate to be accepted and wanted that you put the entire world in danger. Shamefully you had to admit the dick had been worth it, but only in front of Tony to whom you never lie.
The memory of the interrogation SHIELD put you under made you scowl. Bruce saw it and inquired if something was wrong, carefully staring at you when you simply shook your head. He often worried, you often lied by saying everything was okay.
“How was school?”
“Boring.” You leaned down to look into the microscope, analyzing the sample Peter had recovered days ago.
Bruce took his glasses off, eyes still on you. “Your master’s degree is boring?”
Humming, you continued examining the sample to write the observations down.
Bruce left the lab way before you did which happened on a daily basis, Tony constantly worried about how much time you spent there and the medical bay, but it helped you focus and relax so he was never pushy about you cutting off some hours. You left at dinner time, though.
Tony loved having everyone around for dinner, even more since Bucky said it made him feel at home. You adored Bucky, not more than you adored Tony because Stark was after your parents the most important person in your life but Bucky was pretty close. James and you understood each other well, and in your free time, you would show him modern things you thought he’d enjoy while he taught you older things.
Around the table, Tony, Pepper, Morgan, Bucky, Bruce, Thor, Rhodey, Carol, Sam, Peter, Gwen, and Peter’s best friend were already sat. Harry would often hang out in the compound with Peter so it didn’t strange you. You didn’t know a lot about him, he was aloof and made efforts to keep himself away from people even though he was extremely popular at school.
Apologizing for being late, you pinched Morgan’s cheek and took your usual seat between Carol and Sam. The male captain ruffled your hair as a greeting like he would do all the time and turned to continue his conversation with Tony and Rhodey without a comment.
The sensation of being stared at unnerved you the entire dinner, it was something familiar and yet there was a slight new feeling. You were used to people staring at you in the streets, mostly because of your weight, but you weren’t used to it happening inside The Compound, and you knew whose gaze it was. Gwen might have been a little annoying for your liking, but she had never made you feel uncomfortable which meant the person looking at you was Harry.
You ignored it, that was what you would always do when someone fixed their eyes on you unless it was someone you trusted. When the meal was over you offered to clean the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher just to get away from the feeling irking you to the point of having to bite your tongue to not snap at Osborn.
Squatting down, you meticulously arranged the plates in the dishwasher before one by one dropping the cutlery to lose time. As you stood up, the sight past the counter made you regret having offered to do anything— Peter had Gwen on his lap, her head on his shoulder as his arms wrapped around her thin waist. They were probably watching a movie in the living room which meant your night would be painfully long.
Said sight was blocked by Harry himself who was approaching the kitchen, eyes still fixed on you. Scurrying off would be extremely impolite, and you cursed yourself this time for being too prideful to look rude.
He leaned his forearms on the counter, “hi.”
“Hi.”
“You suck at hiding it.”
You nodded and then looked up, wide-eyed. You didn’t expect him to be observant, or yourself to slip up so easily. You could act in nonchalance and say something, anything, maybe that you were tired and feign the assumption of thinking he was talking about that, or maybe something more extreme like you were dying; you felt like you potentially were, actually— you had just kind of told your crush’s best friend you had a crush on your crush!
To make things worse, your eyes deviated to the side and behind him, where Gwen was kissing Peter’s cheek.
He lifted his brows, leaning closer, “you really do suck at hiding it.”
Snapping your eyes toward his face, you rolled them. It was better to be as abrasive as he was being, you didn’t know him after all.
“He’s protective over you, y’know?”
“Yeah. He told Tony I’m like the sister he always wanted to have.”
Harry winced, “that’s...”
You hummed. That was worse than being told he wasn’t interested, it was more than a rejection— it was the reminder that you were the chubby friend Peter loved like a sibling because you were nice.
“He told me not to talk to you.” You lifted an inquiring eyebrow. He explained himself, “he doesn’t want us to end up dating.”
Ah yes, because you were dying to jump into a relationship with someone you didn’t know anything about. “Understandable,” you conceded.
“And that’s why we should date.” A snort escaped you and he interrupted the comment curling up in your tongue: “we could fake it.”
“He’s your best friend.”
“That’s how I know he won’t realize it’s fake.”
You shook your head, “it’s pointless, I’m his sister figure, and you’re his brother figure,” you made a face, “that sounds horrendously incestuous...”
Gwen giggled loudly, prompting Harry to crane his neck to see what was going on. You saw Peter tickling his girlfriend in the ribs with his face hidden in the crook of her neck past Osborn’s shoulder. Harry straightened his back, covering the spectacle.
You looked down, finding an irregular shape in the granite on top of the wooden counter. He shuffled around, his steps approaching your left side, the closest to the edge of the island.
Harry took his former position, this time next to you, and looked down too. The shapes he found were less interesting, more normal which made them border in boring. You dared to look to the side, your elbow almost touching his as you mirrored his position.
His eyes deviated toward you although he didn’t move his head, “you good?” You shook your head. That made him turn his neck to face you. “Wanna go for a walk? I always take one after dinner.”
Supposing some fresh air wouldn’t hurt, you found yourself saying you’d fetch a jacket.
Slipping your cellphone in your pocket, you crossed the living room in direction to the door where Harry was waiting for you. The couple on the couch was too busy making out to realize. You opened the door and allowed Harry to get out of the building first, not comfortable with the idea of being followed.
The stroll was slow, the sidewalks weren’t full at that time of the night and it was a Friday. The two of you would probably have walked slowly even if the streets were busy, both seemed in need of some peace. You didn’t know him well enough to ask about it; you actually only knew his name, socioeconomic status, and that he was reserved.
You reached the park where he strut toward a bench. You realized, by seeing him walk, how tall he really was; why hadn’t you seen that before? Shrugging, you stood near the bench, swinging your hips in that way your father always laughed at— from left to right as if lulling a baby to sleep.
He stared up at the sky. “Why does it affect you so much?”
You didn’t have a way of knowing if he was mocking you or not, his tone was plain all the time. “It doesn’t.”
“I’ve seen you. Multiple times.”
He also always went straight to the point from what you could gather. “Emotional investment.”
“Mmhmm.”
“Why are you so curious?” You dared to ask something finally. Minutes of silence had passed, both looking up, presumably deep in thought.
“He talks a lot about you.”
“That doesn’t answer the question,” you pressed on.
Harry scoffed, patting the bench so you’d sit down beside him. You didn’t see the gesture, but you heard it. Complying, you sat down a little less than a meter away from him. He rotated his body, elbow resting on the back of the bench as his flexed knee brushed your thigh.
“Why doesn’t it answer the question?”
“Because I asked why were you curious, not if he spoke about me.”
“You’re into him and he talks about you a lot but he’s dating someone else— wouldn’t you be curious if one of your friends did that?”
You shrugged. “I talk a lot about (your favorite artist), do you hear people asking them about me?” He glared at you, making you sigh. “We’ve been through a few hardships together, Pete probably just treasures me.”
“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t get jealous.”
It seemed like he also knew how to press on topics without looking pushy. That was a smooth transition back to their conversation back in the kitchen, you had to admit. “Friends, parents, siblings... everyone gets jealous sometimes.”
“We’ve been forbidden from asking you out, isn’t that a bit too much?”
You had to agree with him on that. “Then why do you want to lie to him by saying we’re dating?”
“Open his eyes, look more functional in society, have a friend...”
“I’ve never dated someone, it wouldn’t be believable.”
“I haven’t dated someone in a long time. That would make it more believable.”
Harry had that reputation. Not of a player, simply of someone who would only have one night stands from time to time but never a serious relationship. You had assumed it to be normal with how closed off he was; feeling his eyes on your face, you wondered if he wanted to change that.
“What if he doesn’t believe it?”
“He will, trust me.”
“You’re kind of a stranger to me,” you reminded him. How could you trust him when they had never spoken before?
He nodded. “But you still have to trust me so the plan succeeds.”
“Right.”
He stretched his leg, introducing his hand in his pocket. Seconds later, he handed you his cellphone. Staring down at it, you then tilted your head for a mere second before it clicked.
Typing your number in, you took your own device out from your jacket and copied his movements so he would do the same. Harry called you as soon as his device was back in his grasp, wanting to make sure you hadn’t given him a fake number.
You huffed a laugh, declining the call just to spite him. As you did it, you looked at the time and with a sigh stood up from the bench— time had gone by fairly quickly and you needed to wake up early the next day to work.
He stood up too, walking beside you like he had when you left The Compound. It annoyed him a little to move slowly, but it was better than being trapped in his house or third-wheeling his best friends.
Gwen’s head was on Peter’s lap as Harry and you passed them, another movie was playing: Star Wars. The two of you rolled your eyes, you once again going behind the counter to take the dishes out of the dishwasher to dry them.
“I’ll help you,” he sighed, opening his palm so you’d hand him a towel.
You opened a drawer, taking a couple of towels out of it and placing them on the counter. He snatched one, waiting for you to withdraw the plates. That was his task, drying the plates while you dried the cutlery and glaziery. Harry was quicker than you which made you think he often would do chores although it was unlikely. He ended up helping with half the glaziery too and storing them of course, you had to take advantage of his height and willingness.
The sounds coming from the living room muted, high heeled steps letting you know Gwen was walking toward you. Harry got closer to you, his back against the counter with his hands flat on the surface to prop himself as you faced him.
“Are you busy tomorrow?” The steps stopped when the question left his lips, Gwen presumably wanting to hear your answer.
“Until noon.”
He hummed. “Would you like to get lunch with me? I promise to not complain when you talk about (your favorite artist).”
Lifting both eyebrows at the attention he put to what you said earlier, you felt movement near you. “I would.”
“Great,” he pushed himself forward. Gwen entered the kitchen at that moment, looking at you both with an eyebrow lifted. Harry nodded upward at her before looking at you again, “I’ll leave you to get some rest. I imagine you have work tomorrow?”
You nodded, “that’s why I’m busy in the morning.”
“I’ll text you,” he assured, for whatever reason
Gwen and you watched Harry cross the living room, leaving with a ‘see you tomorrow, Pete’. Peter hadn’t known his best friend was still there, or so it seemed. The shorter young man ran behind his best friend and entertained him at the door, probably asking what had he been doing there.
Unconsciously, you and Gwen shared a look. The chances of you both thinking the same although for different reasons were high and only heightened when the front door closed and hurried stomps in your direction bounced against the walls.
Peter stood in front of both of you, arms crossed against his chest and not intimidating at all. Gwen stepped up a little bit, placing a hand on her boyfriend’s shoulder to tame him or whatever it was she wanted to do— it was unclear to you if Peter often got angry with Gwen around, lately you had avoided seeing them more than necessary to not feel your stomach dropping.
“Harry’s my best friend.”
“Are we stating facts?” you feigned ignorance as to why he had harshly spoken.
Peter frowned. “Baby,” Gwen said softly, an attempt of distracting him.
“Babe, you wouldn’t like it if your best friends dated!”
“We are Harry’s best friends and we are dating, he never complains.”
You shrugged, “if you’re going to keep stating facts, be my guest. I need to get some sleep.” Slipping past the couple, you crossed the doorway before saying loudly enough for them to hear, “have a good night you two!”
When you got to your bedroom, you already had a text message from Harry. You didn’t pay attention to the words on the screen and threw the device onto the bed. You would change into your pajamas first, better yet a nightgown to be more comfortable.
Taking a couple of wipes from the vanity’s drawer, you wiped the makeup off your face. Then, in the bathroom, you washed your face like every night and tapping a clean tower against your face, you allowed yourself to sigh tiredly.
Your day had felt too long since it started so as you mentally went through everything that happened you wondered how had you survived without bursting into tears. Turning the lights off, you did the opposite to the side lamp and slid into bed.
Picking your cellphone up, you did read the text.
Is 2:00 PM okay?
Sure.
Wear something casual.
Okay. See you tomorrow.
Good night.