Ah, Aunt May: an invaluable ally! Usually if it involved helping Peter out in some way, she was on board. Together, May and Harry were an unstoppable team! ...The same way May and Peter were an unstoppable team when Harry's being stubborn. See? Living with a genius pays for itself!
One could hope. With less lies, less pain tangled into the mix, Harry would probably spend a good few minutes freaking out before inevitably settling into 'No way, my best friend is Spider-Man!' Poor Peter would be excitedly bombarded with about a hundred questions, including the most important one of all: 'Wait, is that how you've been getting the cobwebs down from our ceiling?!'
Harry snorts, flashing Peter a grin. "Oh, have I moved up from consort now?"
It's... tempting to say the least-- that anniversary preview. Especially when Peter's obligingly sliding his leg up into Harry's touches, Peter's thigh brushing against his. A quiet little shiver rolls up his back, rendering him weak. "You're the one that keeps kissing me-- s'your fault we're still here," Harry mumbles distractedly, his chin tipped back to give Peter better access to his throat. Not like Harry was the one who'd insisted on cuddling or anything, and it's certainly not like he's egging Peter on either. His fingers roam a little higher, a little braver, a little more curious-- teasing just underneath the fabric of Peter's boxers. Part of him just really wants to stay here, slowly exploring Peter's skin, melting into his warm lips dotting a trail along his neck and shoulders.
But there'll be time later, right? And... frankly, Harry still can't even kiss Peter without turning into a red-faced mess. All of this is wonderfully new for him, and he wouldn't even know what to do if they upped the ante. (Spoiler: he'd turn into a giant awkward heap of idiot.)
Harry heaves a sigh and relents, "Okay, okay-- if there's anything left of the kitchen, you mean?"
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One could hope. With less lies, less pain tangled into the mix, Harry would probably spend a good few minutes freaking out before inevitably settling into 'No way, my best friend is Spider-Man!' Poor Peter would be excitedly bombarded with about a hundred questions, including the most important one of all: 'Wait, is that how you've been getting the cobwebs down from our ceiling?!'
Harry snorts, flashing Peter a grin. "Oh, have I moved up from consort now?"
It's... tempting to say the least-- that anniversary preview. Especially when Peter's obligingly sliding his leg up into Harry's touches, Peter's thigh brushing against his. A quiet little shiver rolls up his back, rendering him weak. "You're the one that keeps kissing me-- s'your fault we're still here," Harry mumbles distractedly, his chin tipped back to give Peter better access to his throat. Not like Harry was the one who'd insisted on cuddling or anything, and it's certainly not like he's egging Peter on either. His fingers roam a little higher, a little braver, a little more curious-- teasing just underneath the fabric of Peter's boxers. Part of him just really wants to stay here, slowly exploring Peter's skin, melting into his warm lips dotting a trail along his neck and shoulders.
But there'll be time later, right? And... frankly, Harry still can't even kiss Peter without turning into a red-faced mess. All of this is wonderfully new for him, and he wouldn't even know what to do if they upped the ante. (Spoiler: he'd turn into a giant awkward heap of idiot.)
Harry heaves a sigh and relents, "Okay, okay-- if there's anything left of the kitchen, you mean?"