"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.
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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.