Fingers trace your every outline, paint a picture with my hands

[spideyguy]

Sunlight streams in through the window, diffused by a light, wispy white curtain. It gives the room a quiet glow, which makes for a very peaceful way to wake up. The clock on the bedside table reads 10:36, blinking over to 10:37 silently. Even the noise of the city seems quieter up here - and it would, considering it's floor 35 out of 37 (Peter's absolutely the one who insisted they not live in a penthouse, are you kidding?) The walls - it's hard to tell what color they are, considering they're completely plastered with pictures. Harry's paintings and Peter's photography, pinned up in an amalgamation of memories. Only one of them is framed, one of Harry's paintings, sitting center above their bed. Peter's got a gradient type of thing going on, different levels of saturation in his pictures. The outside is black and white, leading up to full color where they surround Harry's paintings. Look a little closer and - well, half the pictures are of Harry, laughing, smiling, scowling. Harry, sprawled out asleep on the couch, standing at the stove, bent over an easel concentrating on his detailing. Closeups of his lips, his hair, the crinkle of his eyelids. There's one by the doorjamb of Harry, clearly frustrated at Peter for taking so many damn pictures, reaching out in an obvious attempt to grab the other boy.

Something shifts under the covers, a little fluff of hair sticking out from the white, downy sheets. That would be Peter, in nothing but his boxers, pressing his legs against Harry's and looping an arm loosely over his chest. His ring is warm, warmed by the sleepy heat of Peter's body, but still an obvious presence against Harry's skin - if he's not too distracted by everything else to notice.

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[goblinjr]

It's a gradual, foggy sense of awareness when Harry eventually stirs. The kind that lingers somewhere between sleeping and awake. 'My alarm didn't go off,' is his first bleary thought when he squints his eyes open, straining to read the clock. He'd be more worried if he weren't the boss. As it is, there's no meeting today and he can afford just a few more minutes, right? Oscorp can function without him for a little while longer.

So, Harry plops his head back down on the pillow, content to settle back in, barely giving it a second thought as he nestles against the warm embrace. It's comfortable, peaceful, and he nearly dozes off again without questioning it. And then--

There's no lazy blinking when Harry's eyes open this time. He's distinctly, acutely aware of an arm around his chest, legs tangled against his... There is definitely someone else in bed with him, and he's sure he didn't take anyone home with him the night before. That would require a better social life than he's currently got. It's then that he realizes this isn't his manor. Not his bed, or his bedside table, or--

Harry's propping himself up with a jolt, and he means to discover who he's sidled up next to until the volume of pictures catch his eye first. And why wouldn't they? Paintings and photographs practically envelop every inch of the walls. Perhaps that wouldn't be so unusual if he didn't see his face among them, or if he didn't spy his subtle signature on a painting he never remembered working on above the bed. Then - finally - he turns over to peer at the body next to him, his mind whirling with confusion, curiosity, and shock. He's already guessing when he spots the untamed fluff of hair poking out from under the sheets, but pulling back what hasn't already been tossed around by Harry's startled jolt confirms it. A face he's memorized a hundred times over, a body that he doesn't know as well but privately wishes he could be.

"Peter?"

There's an all too consuming part of him that's too preoccupied with staring in wonder and awe to know if that was even audible, or to be bothered with doing the respectful thing and giving Peter space. He doesn't yet see the rings on their fingers, too lost in thoughts that are scrambling to make sense of this. He's in a place he doesn't recognize that still somehow feels like home, lying next to his best friend the same way lovers would. "I must be dreaming," he muses, lost, trying to reel himself back in. That has to be it. A dream: humoring his wishful thinking, his repressed longing.

And yet it feels so real, it strikes him when his hand brushes absentmindedly over Peter's, still half-draped on his chest. Guiltily, that's what grounds him and he realizes he's been lingering too long. Regardless of where they are (and it hurts his head too much to think about it, so he simply doesn't), Harry knows one thing: he and Peter are not an item. After all his fussing, it's sure to wake Peter up if it hasn't already and the last thing he wants is to make things awkward by greeting him with a look akin to a lovesick puppy.

If all else fails, he'll apologize profusely as he's wiggling to the other side of the bed.

[spideyguy]

Peter stirs when Harry does; he's always been a pretty heavy sleeper, but when you're tangled up and spooning, using someone as a human body pillow - well, you tend to wake when they move too much. Peter blinks, bleary-eyed and groaning now that Harry has pulled back the sheet. "...n'time s'it." He slurs his words, stretching on the bed, showing off the expanse of his bare shoulders.

He reaches out, eyes half-open, for Harry, and he groans when Harry wasn't where he once was. "Get back here, Osborn." A lot of things may have changed, but they had always been best friends before they were husbands and their terms of endearment had carried over. Except Peter would occasionally call Harry 'cutie', mostly to mess with him but also because, well, it was true.

"Where are youuu," Peter whined, rolling over onto Harry's side of the bed in his pursuit. His hand finds Harry's and he sighs, tugging at him. "Lay down, would you? You don't get to keep me up till 3 and wake me up, like, at all. Not fair." Peter blinks up at him again, warm brown peering up at him as Peter buried his head in a pillow. "What, you got somewhere better to be?"

[goblinjr]

Don't stare, don't stare, don't stare.

Easier said than done when Peter's none too shy about stretching out and Harry's increasingly distracted by the sight.

So much for not disturbing him. Harry waited, anticipating similar confusion and freaking out-- only it never came. Instead, Peter actively sought him out. Despite Harry's efforts to slide to the edge of the bed, Peter rolled to close the distance again, reaching out to pull him the rest of the way. If he scooted any more, he'd fall off the bed, so he stayed. Hesitant and stunned as he obliged some of Peter's tugging, he still made an effort not to edge too close. Because... where was this coming from? They were close, but they didn't exactly cuddle. It's not until he hears the clink of metal lightly colliding in the midst of that tugging that his attention is brought to their hands, and he realizes. Rings. On their left hands. For a moment, he forgot to breathe, staring in equal measures of amazement and bewilderment. Talk about sensory overload-- there was so much being thrown at him in the span of a minute, Harry couldn't even find room to freak out about it. Somewhere underneath it all, though, just the idea of being married to his best friend made his heart swell in joy.

Only Peter's voice shook him from his daze, but he nearly missed what was said.

"I-- what? I kept you up?" Why couldn't he remember anything he should? He's fairly certain he and Peter weren't hanging out, but at this point, Harry couldn't be sure of anything. Even so, it still begged the question: how did those rings get there? They lived in New York, not Las Vegas! Maybe... they'd been drinking? ...Could they really have gotten that drunk? It's incredibly far-fetched, yet the only logical explanation after 'this is a dream' he could conjure up. "Somewhere--? No, it's not that--" That was the problem, wasn't it? There's nowhere else he'd rather be, he thought as he stared back at Peter, distracted by the many things driving that point home. The endearing bedhead, Peter's sleepy gaze, the notion that they could be married... He couldn't imagine ever growing tired of the way Peter was looking at him right now. But this isn't normal.

"--Um, are you... feeling okay, Pete? You're not hungover, are you?"

Because amid all of Harry's jumbled thoughts, that's the only thing that made even a sliver of sense. That they'd really been that stupid and crazy.

[spideyguy]

Peter was not about it, Harry scooting away from him. He inched closer, interlocking their fingers and smushing his face against Harry's arm. Whether or not they cuddled was a moot point because hell, Peter was cuddling now and didn't appear to have any intention of stopping. Peter snorted, closing his eyes for a second while Harry was momentarily struck speechless - Peter was still too sleep-ridden to notice.

"Well, yeah, I'd say you did." Is there a vocal equivalent of waggling your eyebrows, because Peter just did it, smirk sliding onto his features. "Or did you forget your midnight quest to bake the perfect cookies? Our kitchen is a disaster, you doofus." Not that Peter minded. Flour fights were fun, especially when they ended with a warm shower. "Seriously, I think we should call the national guard."

"Why would I be hungover?" Peter poked at Harry's side, finally opening his eyes completely. "Are you feeling okay?"

[goblinjr]

If Harry's awkward stammering and stumbling around weren't bad enough before, they'd gone up a few notches now that Peter had unhesitatingly pressed close to him again. His heart practically leaped into his throat and all he could do was sit there, dumbfounded. Even more so as it sunk in that Peter behaved like this was natural. No confusion, no questioning... Nothing. Harry fell back on "this is a dream" again, and truth be told, he was fine with not waking up for a while. Maybe it wasn't the "right" thing to do, but Harry didn't exactly want to move. It wasn't so bad just enjoying Peter's proximity to him, was it?

"I did?" No recollection of that either, but Harry wouldn't doubt it. It sounded like something he'd do and he couldn't help but laugh a little. Not because of the situation, really... but because of that one word Peter used: our. Our kitchen. Was this their home? He found himself scanning the walls a second time with enough curiosity that all he could muster in response was a somewhat distracted, "I mean... maybe I was sleep-baking."

Is he feeling okay? What a loaded question. He felt like he was in 13 Going on 30 or something, only he wasn't sure he wanted to just blurt out that he couldn't remember his life, this room, or how they got here. Part of him didn't want to ruin this. "I-- don't know? I didn't think you were the snuggly type." A weak laugh escaped him as his gaze wandered back to Peter, then back to their intertwined fingers, still in complete wonderment. Periodically flexing his fingers, reassuring himself that this feels real in slow, experimental movements-- as if he's waiting for Peter to up and vanish before his very eyes. "I woke up feeling kind of weird, I guess. I think I'm still half-asleep."

Well, he's not lying. A beat, and then:

"Sorry for waking you up. I know you're not much of a morning person." Because... Peter was still Peter, right?

[spideyguy]

Peter, at least, didn't find this too suspicious. In fact, he prided himself on his ability to still be able to fluster his husband - it just wasn't usually this easy but hey, even Peter got a freebie every once in a while. And no, it wasn't, what with how Peter was enjoying Harry's proximity immensely, playing with his fingers idly.

"Yes, you did. Our shower lasted at least twenty minutes longer than it needed to." Peter snorted, burying his face in the pillow again. It was definitely a lived-in space - evidence of Peter's untidyness was abound, despite every effort. A shirt tossed here, a lost sock there - his glasses, on the bedside table by their phones. "Well then, by all means, sleep-bake more often."

"Seriously? How many times have we fought about who gets to be the big spoon?" Peter only argued for fun, not because he really cared. Any snuggling with Harry was worth it, but Harry could be so fussy when he wanted to be, it was awesome to ruffle his feathers. "Not the snuggly type, christ."

Peter squeezed Harry's hand back, looking him up and down dubiously. "Definitely not. Guess you'll have to find a way to make it up to me. Laying back down and letting me cuddle the shit out of you would be a good start."

[goblinjr]

Oh, would Peter be in for a treat, then.

"Our wh--?" Harry trailed off for a moment, his mind slowly wrapping around the implication of the shower. "Oh." Nonchalant enough, until it really clicked, prompting a more emphatic and surprised, "Oh!" Followed up by a half-sputter of fluster and embarrassment, Harry immediately turned a shade of red that would put a tomato to shame. He hid what he could of his face with his free hand, trying not to linger on the thought very much. He's enough of a mess with just Peter in his boxers trying to snuggle. Not even bravado could save him now. "Well. I--" He cleared his throat, trying to hide further behind his hand; only his lopsided grin could be seen from under his palm. "Pretty sure that'd be impossible to forget." If it weren't a dream, that is, because - as always - there's no memory of this either. "Not sure you can sleep-bake on command, though."

He laughed, daring to peer out from between his fingers a little. They argued about that kind of stuff? Harry never let himself indulge too much in thinking what a relationship with Peter might be like, but thinking on it now... Yeah, they'd probably argue over the stupidest things. They did that enough as just ordinary friends. "Right-- sorry, sorry. I'm telling you, it's a weird morning," he replied helplessly. How much longer could he get away with not knowing anything about their life together?

...Not that Peter would believe him if he told him the truth. Either way, his odds weren't looking great.

Despite Peter openly insisting on it, and despite trying to fall back on the idea that this was nothing more than a very vivid dream, Harry still found room to wonder if it was really okay to relax, to indulge. Perhaps, more than anything, he was afraid to get used to something that - in reality - seemed out of his reach. He didn't want to wake up - for real, this time - in his own bed at his empty Manhattan penthouse, aching to hold Peter in his arms.

So, he refrained from wiggling back down next to Peter and instead proposed an alternative, "Well... um. We're... already up, so... why don't I just make us some breakfast?" Fumbling around with the cupboards, trying to figure out where everything was at, seemed like a better option than fumbling with his feelings.

[spideyguy]

That got a snicker, and Peter glanced up to watch Harry put his face in his hands. Ah, sweet success. Poor Harry, Peter's pretty sure he's going to turn blue if any more blood rushes into his face. "Oh, it better be. Twenty minutes, Harry." Peter says that like it means something, so...well, it's obvious whatever they were doing was pretty impressive, if you catch his drift. Ahem. "I can't bake at all, actually."

Worse, because the stupidity had a better chance to fester and take root when they lived together. When they saw each other day in and day out, and yeah, all of their best friend qualities had surely transferred over to dating, and then to married life. "Geez, what time is it? Get enough sleep there, Mr. 3 AM Cookies?"

Peter just groaned, flopping back on the bed. He sighed, pulling himself up and pecking Harry's cheek. No straight up kisses for morning breath Osborn (or Parker, for that matter). "What am I going to do with you? You owe me snuggles later."

[goblinjr]

'I wish I could remember what happened,' danced across Harry's mind and he only grew more embarrassed for it. He shouldn't be thinking about Peter like that, but he found himself burning with curiosity regardless. So... "Remind me--?" Harry starts to blurt out of impulse, only for his eyes to widen at his less-than-appropriate display of eagerness to know - 'What are you doing, you idiot?' He clamped down on his lower lip and made an immediate grab for a pillow, slapping it over his red face. Suddenly, he's found it impossible to look Peter in the eye. Or at all, at the moment.

The amount of stupidity in the Parker-Osborn household must have been through the roof. He peeked out one side of the pillow to glance at the clock again, because after everything that's been thrown at him, he's already completely forgotten what time it was supposed to be. A pause punctuated the air before Harry finally turned enough to give Peter a half-muffled answer that he's trying his damnedest to ease into a comfortable tease, "It's almost 11. Only an hour before my breakfast menu is taken down and I start serving lunch and dinner instead."

Only when he felt Peter start to move next to him did Harry pull back the pillow a bit to watch him, where he was greeted with a kiss to his cheek. That was all it took to make a hopeless goofy-ass grin cut through all of his embarrassment. "I'm sorry for trying to be a good--" Well, they were obviously more than friends. Boyfriend? He quickly remembered the rings and struggled not to devolve into further blissful goofiness. "--husband?" His best efforts not to cave and revel in whatever strange but happy little world he was in were already failing him.

[spideyguy]

"Is that an invitation?" Peter laughed, sounding so carefree - it wasn't a sound Harry's Peter let loose very often anymore. Kind of nice, actually, warm and full. Peter rested a hand on Harry's knee, seeming all too comfortable and familiar because, well, he was. "Let's see. I think it started with a bet as to who could hold their breath the longest - what's gotten into you? I can feel the heat radiating from your face from here, babe."

And there it is. A term of endearment, and he's not using it sarcastically. Peter smiled, squeezing Harry's knee, Peter's ring pressing lightly against his skin. "Well in that case, could I make a special request? French toast BLT?"

"Denying me snuggle time is not being a good husband." Peter snorted, ruffling Harry's curls as he got up off the bed and stretched. It was kind of ridiculous how far Peter could elongate his body. It just went on forever. "You and your obsession with me eating. I swear, you're secretly trying to get me fat."

[goblinjr]

Harry could hardly even give that a proper response. Even if he weren't embarrassed (and at this rate, it was beginning to feel entirely pointless), he was more distracted by Peter's sincere happiness. Peter always - understandably - seemed so burdened, so bogged down by loss and the incessant demands of his busy and unrelenting life. He still smiled and laughed, but not quite like this. Never in a way that completely hid his pain. The pillow gradually - unconsciously - lowered while Harry, for what must have been the hundredth time already, stared in wonder. It made his heart glow to see Peter so peaceful, and the idea that he had a part in that tugged his lips into a hopeless smile. "Just, um... Suddenly, I'm reminded how lucky I am," he managed after a moment, expelling a quiet breath of a laugh.

It was strange but not unwelcome to see Peter being so affectionate with him, and his hand ended up drifting out to rest on Peter's. He couldn't quite get used to seeing those rings; it seemed like his breath caught every time he saw them. "Sure thing, pal."

And it was certainly enough to get Harry staring again, and this time with a quiet smitten, "Wow." He started to slide off the bed himself, only tearing his eyes away when he nearly tipped headfirst over the side. Wouldn't that have been embarrassing. "Are you kidding? You have a huge appetite. It's almost a full-time job keeping you fed," he countered, his teasing more natural this time. That, he had experience with. Harry could cook something meant to feed four people and Peter could single-handedly eat it all if he wanted. "Good thing I'm rich?" Or is it we? What exactly was Peter up to in this strange reality? Another thing he wanted to ask but wasn't sure how.

...And yet another: he suddenly realized he had no idea where his clothes were. Obviously they had a closet, but Harry wouldn't put it past... alternate him to have a huge walk-in closet somewhere. So, he ended up hanging back, just trying to low-key watch where Peter went for a clue.

[spideyguy]

Oh, in this world? Harry had everything to do with it. From best friend to much-appreciate rock to so, so much more, they'd been through it all and Peter would honestly say he'd never been happier. Coming from a guy who was pretty sure he'd never be happy again, after everything that had happened so early in his life. It had been bleak, for a while there, but - well, Harry never left his side, and Peter would never be able to express his gratitude - although he definitely tried. At that, Peter laughed again, leaning forward a little into Harry's personal space. "Why yes you are, and don't you forget it."

"Mm, with avocado?" Peter pretended to pout, letting his fingers lace loosely with Harry's. Yeah, this Peter clearly wasn't very shy, simply reaching out and taking what he wanted.

Peter cocked his head to the side at Harry's interjection, mid-stretch. It wasn't unusual for Harry to enjoy the view, but something about that seemed...a little off. Still, Peter was Peter, and it just made him stretch a little further, adding a quiet groan to the end for Harry's benefit. Cough. Peter you asshole. "It's not that bad! Jeez, you make it sound like I'm a human dumpster."

"Hey!" That got a playful swat, as Peter picked up his glasses and squared them on his face. "When we got our joint account I contributed a whopping $800 - " Well, kinda. Does it count if Peter is on your will? And being more or less less of an idiot about money (although common sense and living as lower middle class kept Peter as Peter. He still bought store brand except on the few items Harry threw a fit about. And he thought through every single purchase - and none of his Christmas, Birthday, or Anniversary gifts to Harry were ever bought with anything but what Peter had earned himself).

Peter wasn't exactly helpful, scratching his stomach and wandering into an adjacent door that led to the bathroom, if the slap of his feet on tile was anything to go by. Perhaps the closet was in there? There were no other doors, except to the hallway. Either it was in there, or Harry could follow Peter into the bathroom to pee. Dicey choice.

[goblinjr]

'If I can find it, sure,' Harry thought. Getting through breakfast was going to be something else, especially if the kitchen was in as much of a mess as Peter said. With any luck, he could use that as an excuse for not being able to find anything. "How could I say no to that face?" he replied, playfully booping Peter's chin with a knuckle. Did Peter ever pout, even jokingly? Harry couldn't remember the last time that happened, which made it doubly adorable.

Deliberately dangling himself in front of Harry-- let it never be said that Peter couldn't be conniving. A tinge of pink crept back through Harry's face as he chewed on the inside of his lip, trying not to grin. Yep. Damn lucky, alright. "Garbage disposal, maybe. You're about as noisy."

"Wow, Peter. You made us into trillionaires." It wasn't hard to believe that Peter never really warmed up to the idea of spending a lot of money. Harry's spending habits could be frivolous and he never thought twice about it, but Peter came from a vastly different background. He never liked taking money from Harry before, and it probably wasn't much different now. Probably still had to twist his arm to get him to spend money on himself or accept gifts. Which - in a roundabout way - reminded him-- "Hey, um. Have you talked to May?" Surely they kept in touch often. It's not that he's wondering about. If anyone deserved a break, it was that woman. It seems intuitive to Harry that one of the first things they would have done is set her up so she'd never have to worry again, in spite of her protests. After all, she's family, too. With or without a marriage to Peter. Of course Harry wondered how she was doing.

Ever so helpful. Not that Harry helped his own case, for when he began to idly wander after Peter, he slowly tapered off into lingering behind. Now that he could get a proper look at all the pictures on the walls, he found himself captivated by them again... Especially Peter's photography. He'd always had an eye for that kind of thing, and Harry always thought it was kind of funny given how technical he was about things. Maybe that worked in his favor here, but there was no mistaking it: there was some definite artistry in them. Even in the way Peter had lined them up on the walls. Strange... to see so many pictures of himself and of him with Peter up there. One caught his eye in particular. It seemed to be at their wedding if the tuxes were anything to go by. Moreover, there was cake smashed into both of their faces - because of course they wouldn't think twice about lobbing their own wedding cake at each other - and they were laughing.

"Man, it'd take somebody a year to look through all these pictures," he remarked aloud, still smiling in delirious joy. Especially for Harry, who kept getting hung up on individual pictures, almost overwhelmed by how much he wanted this to be real. Everything he'd ever wanted was right in front of him, and he was dumbfounded by it.

[spideyguy]

"You'd think you'd have developed better defenses by now." Peter grinned, raising an eyebrow at Harry. Peter's attitude was...genuinely unprecedented. Well-adjusted, clearly happy and settled in his life now that the nightmare of high school was over. Whatever he was doing with his life, Peter was very content with it.

Harry may in fact have the distinct pleasure of experiencing Peter actually trying instead of his usual obtuseness. "Really, Harry? Pot, meet kettle."

"I pushed you that extra $800 over the top, yeah," He laughed, disappearing into the bathroom. He did his business, flushing before answering. "Hm? Yeah, actually, she called me yesterday, did she already talk to you about Sunday? I'm telling you, we have to get her to come here. I can't eat another meatloaf, I'll die. I'll die, Harry." Peter reappeared, shaking the last bit of water off his hands. "That is, if we still have a kitchen after last night."

Peter had definitely put a lot of time in putting together his contributions to the wall, editing the saturation levels and developing most of them himself. There had been a few trial and errors when they first moved in together - Peter turning the bathroom into a photochem lab, and Harry accidentally ruining all of his pictures by opening the door. Add in the fact that film was expensive - which didn't necessarily matter to Harry but definitely did to Peter - and you had a recipe for their first fight. The makeup for that had been awesome, evidence of which lingered by one of Harry's paintings; a picture of Harry, half buried in the sheets, only the corner of his mouth and wayward curls really visible.

Their wedding was an affair in and of itself. Peter hadn't really wanted a ceremony, but May had absolutely insisted on watching him step up to an altar. Peter may never admit it, but he was glad they'd had one.

"Well, I've got to keep you on your toes." The photos changed every time Peter developed a new batch of photos. Had to keep it fresh. Peter stepped up behind Harry, wrapping his arms loosely around Harry's waist and leaning to rest his chin on Harry's shoulder. "Which one's your favorite?"

[goblinjr]

"Yeah, well." Harry gave a helpless shrug. "When you're irresistible, you're irresistible." Despite his utter cluelessness in regard to their newfound life together, Harry's pretty sure Peter has him wrapped around his finger. He's got enough self-awareness to know that Peter can generally talk him into almost anything as it is, and it's probably only gotten worse by now. Surely Peter's become marginally aware of his influence over him. But more than anything, Harry's genuinely blown away by how happy Peter is. It's never really struck him how long it's been since he's seen an unburdened smile until now. It's awfully sad, thinking about it that way, but Harry's too mesmerized by the sincere joy to linger on it.

"I'm not noisy," Harry argued, making a face. "When am I ever noisy?"

And still - but not surprisingly - in touch with May. Good. Even less surprising, Harry had no recollection of what was supposed to be this Sunday either. "Uh-- no. What's Sunday?" At least he could ask non-suspiciously for the most part, but the commentary on her meatloaf got a laugh out of him. "Yeah, that meatloaf is like... borderline toxic. It's a miracle you survived her cooking." Alright, so May wasn't really a bad cook, but that meatloaf. Harry'd had the misfortune of trying to eat it on a few occasions. "C'mon, you're acting like we dropped a nuke on it or something." The kitchen couldn't be that bad, could it?

Indeed, Harry spotted that picture, wondering the story behind it - as he did with many of them. Just another intimate little fragment of this life that Harry wanted to know more and more about. He's startled out of his wonderment when Peter stepped up behind him, still showing no shyness about personal space. By the time he got used to this, he'd probably wake up, but Harry relaxed easily enough anyway, pausing to smile fondly at Peter. He does a better job of not gawking at their rings this time when he moved a hand to rest on one of Peter's arms.

"My favorite?" It was like a sea of things Harry loved staring at, those pictures. Nigh impossible to pick just one. With Peter manning the camera, there weren't a lot with him in them, but there were a few. One in particular looked like Harry had probably stolen the camera to give Peter a taste of his own medicine or maybe even just for the sake of trying. Either way, it was pretty obvious that he was nowhere near as good at it as Peter. The centering was off, the usage of space was unbalanced-- it was a very flawed picture. But Peter was smiling so brightly, so warmly, it made up for it; he was the star of the picture.

So, Harry pointed to that one. "I love how happy you look. You've got the best smile," he answered, his voice warm. Enchanted, perhaps.

[spideyguy]

"Don't you start," Peter pointed an accusing finger at Harry, lessened by the smile he was obviously trying (and failing) to keep off his face. Oh yeah, Peter's pretty good at that. It's how they ended up in this apartment, rather than a penthouse somewhere (and a lot of other, little battles along the way). He laughs, mussing Harry's hair. "And that look, stop it, Osborn. I have things to do today. Although, as distractions go, you're not too shabby."

That got Peter to raise an eyebrow, smirk curling the edges of his mouth. "I'd say last night you got pretty loud, babe."

"Sunday dinner? Have you still not penciled that into your calendar? It's only been like...jesus, I don't even know. Since forever, you've been coming to these, you dork." Peter crossed his arms, leaning against the doorway. "Radioactive, I'm serious. If I could only get a sample for testing - but it'd probably turn into a green rage monster, so then again, maybe not." Another eyebrow raise, you're getting a lot of these, Harry. "I love your selective memory, truly. Can't remember what we did to the kitchen but I'm sure the shower part is crystal clear."

Peter hummed, kissing Harry's shoulder gently and lolling his head to the side to look at the picture Harry was pointing at. That got a soft huff of a laugh, when he saw which one it was, and Peter's lips moved a little closer to Harry's neck, still on his shoulder. "Mine too. S'why I put it up." There aren't a lot of pictures of Peter on the wall, yes, because he was the photographer, but also because he didn't particularly like putting his face up on the wall. Out of all the pictures Harry took, that day when Peter gave him free reign, that one just took his breath away. It may have looked a little clumsy, but you could tell a lot about a person from the photos they took, and that one told Peter everything he needed to know about his husband.

"Mm, I'd beg to differ," Another kiss, this time on Harry's neck as Peter gets in close. "You're cuter."

[goblinjr]

"Start what?" Harry laughed, holding his hands up defensively. "I mean... you are," he half-mumbled, his smile going crooked in that way it tends to do when he's smitten or amused. Even the hair ruffle's inspiring a dopey look. It may seem small or idle to Peter, but to Harry, even the littlest shows of affection are new and wonderful. "What look is that?" he asked. Genuinely and perfectly oblivious to his continued looks of wonder and adoration.

Left to fill in the blanks for himself, Harry's mind - of course - wandered back to the shower whether that was the correct implication or not. His face probably invented a new shade of red in the process. A faux indignant "Shut up--" was the only thing Harry could think to say.

Sunday dinners? A tradition of theirs? Harry tilted his head, smiling in marvel. Again. "Really?" ...A beat, and Harry realized he should know that; he was being too open with his astonishment and surprise. He immediately jumped to correct himself. "I mean-- yeah, no. I just thought--" Quick, come up with an excuse! Harry scratched the side of his face. "Maybe you two had some other plans on top of that? Y'know, kick me to the curb for an evening for you guys to have some quality aunt-nephew time." They'll be even with all of the looks of awe Harry keeps giving in return. I wish, he started to say before clamping down on his lip to stop himself. He remembered nothing, unfortunately. "You'd be surprised. I did ask for a reminder earlier," he answered, injecting an edge of teasing into his tone. It was the truth, though.

The kiss sent goosebumps rippling up his arms and Harry found himself sinking back against Peter some. He couldn't help it. Peter's arms wrapped around his waist, his warm lips against his skin-- Harry practically melted. "Really? Your favorite, too? --How come?" He had a feeling Peter's reasons were different than his, after all.

He absentmindedly brought a hand up to Peter's head, fingers twining in his tousled hair when he pressed closer. His eyes fluttered shut at the kiss, unable to stop a happy little sigh from escaping his lips. "Pretty sure that's impossible," he answered honestly. "You're in a league of your own, Pete."

[spideyguy]

"Anything. Don't start anything." Peter warned, though he couldn't help his own smile, reciprocating Harry's. How could he help but smile when Harry's looking at him like that? He never gets tired of it, honestly, though Peter's hard-pressed to say anything about it. He's still Peter, in this weird reality Harry's been dropped into. "You know what look! Don't play dumb. Doesn't suit you."

Oh, it's correct. Cough. Peter just laughed warmly, rubbing his hand back over his neck. "Why don't you shut me up, hm?"

"No, never," Peter laughed and gave Harry a funny look, shifting his weight against the wall. "You're family now, you doofus. And if I have to suffer through the meatloaf, I sure as hell am gonna take you down with me." Peter's still a dick, all in all. "Maybe after breakfast, if you're not too much of an ass. Like I said, I have things to do today, Osborn, and so do you!"

"I take a lot of pictures, so I know that...you don't usually like your own work, you know? You see all the little imperfections that nobody else sees. It's a little off-center, or too underexposed, whatever - and it ruins it a little for you. It's good but it's not the best. That one's my favorite, yeah, because you took it, but because it's your favorite. You don't even see all of the little, usually imaginary imperfections we create in our own work." Peter kissed Harry's neck, working his lips up towards Harry's ear. "You love me so much, it doesn't matter. That's why it's my favorite."

"You've never seen you the way I do," Peter hummed, nuzzling his head against Harry's hand. He's not even jokingly protesting the warm digits, in fact, he's eagerly accepting it.

[goblinjr]

"I wasn't doing anything," Harry argued with a laugh. "You're totally paranoid. I mean, I was just making an honest statement and you're flipping out at me--" His innocent act is almost convincing, and maybe it'd work on someone who hadn't known him for most of his life. ...And maybe if he wasn't helplessly distracted by that sincere smile. "It doesn't?" He makes an alarmed face, like this is completely news to him and that Peter and the rest of the Parker family didn't always have loads of faith in him. "You might be the only person in New York who thinks so."

And Harry might even try if he weren't such a flustered mess, because it's still just mindboggling to hear Peter be so forward with him. This is completely uncharted territory, and he's really trying not to gape like a doofus. Naturally, he's not very successful in that endeavor. "I'm... pretty sure that's a feat not even I can manage," he said finally, holding his hands up in surrender. Knowing him, he'd try to be smooth and just embarrass himself, so he resolved to refrain from trying to indulge.

"Man, you're really serious about the whole 'for better or for worse' thing, aren't you?" Harry gave a playfully horrified look at the prospect of being subjected to more meatloaf. "Maybe I can negotiate some new recipes with her. I think she'd be mad if I tried to improve her meatloaf." He laughed lightly into his knuckles. "--Well, I don't see why I can't be one of those things you're doing today," he blurted, because his brain-to-mouth filter only ever works some of the time. It's probably physically impossible to be any more red at this point; he could almost be the Human Torch with all the heat he's radiating. He lacked the confidence to back up his talk, so he got worked up instead. He tries to alleviate some of his embarrassment with a cheeky, "Aren't I always too much of an ass, anyway?"

And if that wasn't the most beautiful thing Harry'd heard in a long time, he didn't know what was. He leaned into the trail of kisses some before turning his head to be able to look at Peter, half-bopping his cheek against Peter's forehead. "That's beautiful, Pete," he echoed his thoughts with a smile that resonated earnest warmth and joy. "I really do love you-- more than the sun." And it felt so good to be able to say it out loud, without fear or hesitation-- like a heavy weight lifted off his heart and shoulders.

"Yeah, well, I guess that makes us even," Harry countered, happily obliging Peter by slowly and affectionately working his fingers through his hair. "But it's probably for the best. You can't marry a mirror." A beat. "I think." Which is followed up by a quick addition of: "We're not betting on it." Harry's not so naive as to think he doesn't still lose 95% of those, because - again - Peter is still Peter.

[spideyguy]

"You're always doing something, just by being you." After knowing Harry for so many years and, apparently, being married to him, he's not getting away with anything (or, really, he's getting away with everything, it's just mostly by Peter's permission. Mostly.) "I damn well hope I'm the only one who thinks so. You shouldn't be playing dumb with anybody else," Peter raised a teasing eyebrow, running a hand back through his rumpled hair. "Especially nobody in New York. I'd think you'd at least have exotic tastes, babe."

Peter just laughs warmly and shrugs off-handedly, smile shy but still friendly and a bit flirty. Imagine what they must have been like when they first started out this nervous, wonderful thing they have (a downright trainwreck, obviously). "Yeah, but you've always been one for a challenge, Osborn." Hardly the worst one to surmount.

"I'd call it a trial, but it's not the worst. Glad you said that though, because now I have blackmail material until the end of time itself." Peter grins, and it turns into another laugh when Harry blushes. He looks him up and down for a second before, "Well you're always on my to-do list." Harry's red as a tomato, but if Peter thinks it odd, he doesn't say anything. Which, he doesn't think it's odd, it's Harry and Harry has always been an absolute dork when it comes to love, and certain physical expressions thereof. Peter thinks it's adorable. "I knew what I was getting into. Guess I only have myself to blame for that one."

"You sure? Because the sun's kind of the reason we're all here." Peter tilted his face up to kiss Harry's cheek as opposed to launching into some scientific tirade. At least he's learning to compromise. "I love you too, Harry. Each day, a little more, even when I didn't think it was possible to have any more room in my heart."

That just sends Peter into a fit of happy laughter, body shaking against Harry's back. He buries his giggles in Harry's shoulder, hair thick and wild between Harry's fingers. "...you sure? I could use another 'Harry Osborn Loses A Bet' photo for my collection."

[goblinjr]

"Me? We both know I'm not the ornery one here. You are, almighty King of the Shitheads." Which was always Harry's answer to deflect from the fact that he could be just as much of a shit when he wanted to be. Peter was still the king, though. No one could take that crown from him. "I meant, I'm pretty sure you're the only person who thinks being dumb doesn't suit me. Smartass." He snorted, tilting his head in to add to his own raised brow. "Exotic? Really? I could barely get regular people to like me." He pauses to laugh. "Or are you calling yourself exotic? What with the--" It struck Harry suddenly that he didn't know if - in whatever reality this was - whether or not Peter was still Spider-Man. Or if he ever was, for that matter. Maybe he'd better not say anything about it. He scrambled to quickly come up with a different direction to go in. "--uh. Wild, crazy hair you've got? It's almost like a jungle from another country."

That look isn't tempting him any less, either. They probably had plenty of sweaty palms and embarrassing (but cute) nose bonking going on. "Okay, but there's a challenge... and then there's impossible. I don't think there's ever been a time where you haven't run your mouth," Harry countered with a teasing smile. He even brought a fist to his chin in thought to complete the whole thing. "Huh. Have you ever even been stunned into silence before?"

"Oh, come on! Hey! You're twisting my words-- that's not fair! ...You've already got a whole filing cabinet of things to hold over my head. You don't need any more." Harry's trying to pout, but damn if he can't stop smiling. Peter's follow-up remark - paired with the none too subtle look-over - only makes it worse and more obvious, even for all that Harry ducked his head and partially hid his face behind a hand. His grin practically went from ear to ear and for the umpteenth time, he cycled back around to the thought: I've gotta be dreaming. "No wonder you never get any work done," he half-mumbled. Because for as embarrassing and awkward as he could be, Harry knew himself well enough to know that he'd probably try and monopolize on that whenever he could. In fact, he could just about bet that it was one of his many tactics when Peter got into workaholic mode and started staying up too late.

Harry could also bet with twice as much certainty that Peter's already dangerous levels of influence over him reached ridiculous levels once they became a couple, which inspires his next answer: "Well, that and... I've gotta level the playing field somehow or I'd just be puddle of melted goo around you all the time."

True to form, he started to roll his eyes, fully expecting that scientific tirade, only for his exasperation to quickly evaporate into nothing once Peter pecked his cheek. Whatever snark that was waiting on the edge of his tongue left with it as Peter continued, leaving Harry perfectly, completely, and blissfully in awe. He didn't think his heart could possibly swell any more, and a joyful little laugh escaped him. For a moment, all he could do was turn enough so that he can properly bump his forehead against Peter's and hold him for a minute. Relish in how good it feels to hear those words in Peter's voice. "I never thought I'd be able to hear you say that," he said, and every bit of marvel that sprang through his heart and eyes reached his voice too. He almost forgot himself again and quickly corrected the statement. "I mean--... I used to. Even though we're best friends. You're like... way out of my league."

He's trying awfully hard not to laugh, but Peter's happiness is contagious and Harry is entirely too taken with the way he buries his laughter against his shoulder. "Stop!" he insisted amid a laugh of his own, giving Peter's hair a gentle and playful tug. "You do not need another one. The million you probably already have is enough! I need a collection of you losing bets. That's what needs to happen."

[spideyguy]

"If I'm the King, does that make you the consort?" Peter never said he'd play fair. And yes, Harry is absolutely a shit. Peter is starting to think he takes pleasure in making Peter late for work, actually. The fact that Harry can alter the timecards any way he pleases doesn't mitigate Peter's embarrassment at walking into the lab late, a fact Harry conveniently forgets. "Excuse me? You really think my hair is exotic? Please, go gaze upon your visage in the mirror this morning. I'm barely resisting from calling Crocodile Dundee."

"You could get anyone you wanted to, you idiot, but you've stuck yourself with me," Peter wiggled his left hand at Harry, ring shining in the morning light flooding the window. "No take-backs. I didn't come with a receipt, your mistake."

Oh god, the first kiss was a nightmare. All awkward angles and Peter's glasses were crooked on his face to begin with, so - it was perfect, in its own right. "Kinda hard to run my mouth when there's something in it, buddy." Aaaand there it is. Yahtzee. "Don't flatter yourself, Harold, that's my job."

"Well stop handing them out like candy!" Peter snickered, shaking his head as Harry tried to pull a pout from the edges of his smile. It really wasn't working, poor thing. "If I moved it to every other day, I'm pretty sure you'd die. You remember the No Shave November incident." Oh, absolutely. Peter was only barely capable of ignoring Harry, and it certainly couldn't last forever.

"Are you trying to tell me you're not a puddle of goo, because have I got some news for you - "

It really is some ideal, alternate reality. Could this - them, together - ever exist in Harry's world? It just seemed way too good to be true. Peter laughed again, bumping his nose softly against Harry's, arms wrapped comfortably around his hips. "You honestly believe I'm out of your league, and I gotta say, it's still cute as hell. No, Harry, if anyone's in a different league it is definitely you, Mr. GQ."

"But I'm making a photo album!" Peter shook his head, pressing his face into Harry's neck instead. "Better chance of a real tooth fairy appearing than me losing a bet to you, babe."

[goblinjr]

"What? The consort? Geez, you could at least try to be creative and not insult me. Like... why can't I be your really good-looking knight that you sneak off with when no one's looking?" Harry at least has the dogged loyalty part of being a knight down. It could work? Just imagine a knighted Harry following King Peter around like a puppy and there you go. Poor Peter, because by that point, everyone probably knows why. "Oh, c'mon. We all know you have--" Harry glanced towards the mirror if only just to humor Peter, immediately cut off the sight of the mess of curls strewn every which way. "--Oh. Yikes," was his only interjection, followed by a half-hearted attempt to reach up and flatten the poof down.

"Oh, gee, Peter. What a horrible predicament I'm in." Harry couldn't manage to sound as sassy as he wanted to when Peter was standing there, proudly putting his wedding ring on display. His heart was too busy soaring to even pretend to be salty. "Being married to some jerk I love more than anything for the rest of my life? You're right, this stinks."

Adorable and 100% dorky, just like them. Something to look back on fondly with plenty of facepalms and laughter. Whatever semblance of self-control Harry thought he was finally getting back - for however brief a moment - promptly went back out the window. "Peter!" Both hands slapped over Harry's face this time, like maybe it would somehow alleviate the astronomic levels of fluster Peter just caused. Pretty sure that was a muffled, 'oh my god' somewhere in there, too. If he turns any more red, he might actually pass out. To echo his thoughts, he pointed out, "I can't cook you breakfast if I'm unconscious. Remember that, will you?"

"Or you could be a little more merciful." But they both knew that wasn't happening. And like everything else Peter kept bringing up, Harry - of course - did not remember, but found himself curious all the same. "What, like you wouldn't?" It's more curious than it is indignant, because Harry could secretly buy that he wouldn't be able to hold out long. He had to laugh a little to himself, though. "Geez, you make it sound like I'm so high-maintenance..."

"Alright, fine! I'm always a puddle of goo around you."

All the more reason for Harry to enjoy it while he could. If large pieces of the past weren't lost to him, he'd probably even fall into it and let himself forget that this wasn't reality. They seemed so happy; it was intoxicating. And being this close to Peter made it easy to forget whatever worries had ailed him before. It's a little less bashfully that he accepts the shows of affection and decides to return them with some of his own. He rests his hands on Peter's shoulders at first until they're trailing down his arms, curious, memorizing the muscle. "'Cause you are, Mr. Super-Genius. You can't keep throwing the GQ thing at me."

He tipped his chin back with another laugh, trying not to shake his head too much in disbelief. "I made a pig fly once! Don't be so sure!" And speaking of flying pigs, Harry couldn't help but wonder-- was Bethany here with them? ...Imagine all the confusion it would cause when Harry prattled on about their little Bethany and it turned out to be a pig instead of a child.

[spideyguy]

"Why is that insulting? I think it's quite the compliment, gorgeous." Peter snorts and shakes his head. "Because I don't have to sneak off. If I leave my council, people know who I'm going to spend my nights with." Not that Harry wouldn't make a noble and dedicated knight. They're taking this metaphor too far, but imagine Peter in a crown. Royal colors would look good on him. Oh, absolutely. The girls at the lab just loved to tease the shit out of him when he came back from his lunch break with his lab coat rumpled. Peter laughed and caught Harry's hand in his own. "Don't bother, I like a little exotic. Your brand, anyway."

"You laugh, but I'm not convinced you understand the gravity of your own situation." Peter teased, threading his fingers through Harry's. "I'm definitely a jerk. Your jerk. Tough break, babe."

"What?" Peter echoed sweetly, swallowing his snickering. It was just so easy to wind him up! Peter was genuinely enjoying the flustered red splotches decorating Harry's cheeks, and he grinned, leaning in to press a kiss into Harry's hair. "Am I wrong, though? If I can talk while I'm doing that I'm pretty sure I'm doing it wrong - " He allowed himself a small chuckle, smirk still tinging his lips. "If you're unconscious...pretty sure I'm doing it wrong babe. Besides, I think it's only polite for you to cook for me - "

"Where's the fun in that?" Peter snorted and squeezed Harry a little tighter. "Let's not make this into a battle of who can last longer. Pretty sure I'' better at distracting myself, so..." Oh, he'd definitely be dying, but Peter was better at keeping his whining to himself. Most of the time. "You are! Dare I say you're actually worth it, god help me."

"Hardly a super genius, and oh yes I can. I'm holding out for when it inevitably happens and I have an actual GQ cover to frame on the wall." Peter hums, welcoming the touch easily, rolling his head back on his neck. He's perhaps - a bit older? Not by much, though, he's filled out a little. Maybe that's how he would have turned out if not for the bite. Or maybe it's a side effect of actually eating, both are equally plausible.

"If you make the tooth fairy real, the honest to god tooth fairy, I don't even know what your prize will be but I promise it'll be good."

[goblinjr]

"Because you never hear stories about heroic consorts, Peter," Harry complained, until-- "Wait. Gorgeous?" Another goofy grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, because while it felt natural to tease and joke, he wasn't nearly as used to being called gorgeous. "Guess I can't complain about that." Peter would make an adorable king. Probably completely unorthodox and throwing wrenches in all the "proper" ways to do things in favor of doing things that actually work. Plus, they'd be class swapped for once. You know Harry probably has loads of fun calling Peter to his office for all kinds of bogus reasons. Just because he can. 'Your make-out quota isn't being met, Peter! We need to fix this immediately.' "You're seriously into my monster curls?" he prodded, but relented in trying to pat his hair down in favor of wrapping his hand around Peter's and leaning his cheek against the knuckles.

"You say that like I'd have chosen to be anywhere else, even if we weren't a couple." And that was true regardless of the reality they were in. "Besides, who else could put up with you? I wouldn't wanna subject some poor innocent person to your crap. They'd probably lose their marbles."

Oh, no. Don't act all innocent, Peter. The endearing little kiss might have been more soothing if Peter didn't insist on continuing. Harry practically sputtered, only cracking open his fingers enough to glare at Peter from between them. "That's not what I meant and you know it!" He attempted to bump Peter away from him with his shoulder, refusing to take his hands away from his face-- as if it wasn't already glaringly obvious how red he was or how much he was trying not to grin or laugh or anything that might be encouraging. "Stop it, already!"

At least Harry was already so red that it didn't matter that Peter pulling them even closer together got him flustered all over again. He worried the inside of his bottom lip for a moment. ...Right now, he could probably win, he thinks. After all, he hasn't slept with him. Therefore, in theory, he doesn't really know what he's missing. Ignoring the fact that he's burning with curiosity, Harry totally has a recipe for victory. Right? Definitely no way he could lose. And... it's that folly in thought that makes him actually consider betting Peter, if only to wipe that smug look off his face. "Distracting yourself?" A scoff. "No, I bet you'd just cheat by dangling yourself in front of me so I would lose." Is he right or is he right?" A disbelieving laugh escaped him. "I am not high-maintenance! You can't butter me up on that one. Take it back."

"Keep dreaming, pal. It's not gonna happen." He sounds distracted-- and he is. Now that he's actually let himself slow down a little bit and really take in how Peter looks, how he feels under his fingertips without having to immediately swallow down his feelings... It's a little entrancing. He notices the little changes in Peter's physique, too. Harry's always tried not too study him too much, but sometimes, you just pick up the details without even realizing when something's that interesting, that important to you. His hands have wandered back up Peter's arms and over his shoulders until they're trailing across his collarbone and down his sides. He's a little shy about it, but ever curious.

"All those Norse myths ended up being real, right? I mean, we've got the God of Thunder running around somewhere. I'm pretty sure I could find a tooth fairy."