They're honest with each other - well, they tried to be. There was too much trying-to-protect one another that went on, and far too much lying, before Peter had finally told Harry about Spiderman (he says told, because it's much nicer than, 'was outed when the lies finally caught up with him'). But extra? Most definitely. Idiots.
This dream Peter - has he ever been bloody and broken? Has Harry ever had to reset his shoulderblade, while Peter bites down on an expensive leather belt and tries not to scream? Has this Peter ever had to dig a bullet out of his own leg, while Harry tried not to vomit, preparing the needle and thread with shaking fingers?
(Maybe there is no going back, but at least they have each other. At least, amidst all the mess, they had each other to cling on to, and maybe that was the new 'normal'. And, if that were the case...couldn't things be worse?)
(...then again, the whole point is for Harry to question if maybe things might be a little easier, just to stay here...)
He has a shot here though. Has more than a shot, really, has everything he could ever want. Peter, looking at him with adoration, offering him love and affection in spades. Peter, wearing Harry's ring on his finger, waltzing around the apartment in his underwear not because he's oblivious to Harry's gaze, but because he invites it.
Peter, who loves Harry in all the ways Harry wants him to, so very deeply.
This Peter is just as toned as Harry's, even with the distinct lack of crime-fighting and radioactive spider powers. He raises an eyebrow, almost looking smug, like he knows exactly where Harry's blush is coming from, and he gives Harry an obvious once-over, a look that tells him he'd probably be easy enough to coax into a re-enactment, if Harry wanted it badly enough.
"First of all, you are a drama queen, and secondly, this was totally unnecessary!" Peter throws his hands up, looking adorably infuriated, though it's obvious he's only bickering because that's their schtick. He points at the papers on the coffee table accusingly. "I had all of those organized, but no, we couldn't make out on the couch like normal people."
"Uh uh, no way you can't turn this around on me. Self-defense!" Peter snorts and rolls his eyes, heading back into the kitchen to open the fridge. He pulls out the orange juice, moving to the left to open one of the cabinets and pull out two glasses. "There is nothing innocent about you, Osborn."
"I will clean up, but only because I like your french toast so much." He pours the glasses and passes one to Harry, downing half of his in one go. "Damn your cooking."
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This dream Peter - has he ever been bloody and broken? Has Harry ever had to reset his shoulderblade, while Peter bites down on an expensive leather belt and tries not to scream? Has this Peter ever had to dig a bullet out of his own leg, while Harry tried not to vomit, preparing the needle and thread with shaking fingers?
(Maybe there is no going back, but at least they have each other. At least, amidst all the mess, they had each other to cling on to, and maybe that was the new 'normal'. And, if that were the case...couldn't things be worse?)
(...
then again, the whole point is for Harry to question if maybe things might be a little easier, just to stay here...)He has a shot here though. Has more than a shot, really, has everything he could ever want. Peter, looking at him with adoration, offering him love and affection in spades. Peter, wearing Harry's ring on his finger, waltzing around the apartment in his underwear not because he's oblivious to Harry's gaze, but because he invites it.
Peter, who loves Harry in all the ways Harry wants him to, so very deeply.
This Peter is just as toned as Harry's, even with the distinct lack of crime-fighting and radioactive spider powers. He raises an eyebrow, almost looking smug, like he knows exactly where Harry's blush is coming from, and he gives Harry an obvious once-over, a look that tells him he'd probably be easy enough to coax into a re-enactment, if Harry wanted it badly enough.
"First of all, you are a drama queen, and secondly, this was totally unnecessary!" Peter throws his hands up, looking adorably infuriated, though it's obvious he's only bickering because that's their schtick. He points at the papers on the coffee table accusingly. "I had all of those organized, but no, we couldn't make out on the couch like normal people."
"Uh uh, no way you can't turn this around on me. Self-defense!" Peter snorts and rolls his eyes, heading back into the kitchen to open the fridge. He pulls out the orange juice, moving to the left to open one of the cabinets and pull out two glasses. "There is nothing innocent about you, Osborn."
"I will clean up, but only because I like your french toast so much." He pours the glasses and passes one to Harry, downing half of his in one go. "Damn your cooking."