That alone is a tempting enough reason to stay. Watching Peter tumble in on his balcony, oftentimes with gruesome injuries, never got any easier. Harry got better at staying calm, even if it sometimes divebombed straight into dissociation with the worst of Peter's agonies. He got better at patching Peter up, taking more than a few first aid classes to help along whatever he had to learn on the fly. And he got better at being able to smile through the tears and nod every time Peter asked him if he was absolutely sure he wanted to keep doing this. Because that was Peter Parker-- always more worried about someone else's well-being when he was the one bleeding all over the floor.
Harry'd be lying if he said he didn't wish they never had to deal with any of it. He's so proud of Peter for being a hero to the city, make no mistake. But... he also longs for the days when Peter was just Peter. Not bleeding and bruised all the time, not stopping psychopaths, not prowling the city... Harry misses having a peaceful life with his best friend.
But Harry keeps going because Peter needs that support. Peter's already made his decision: he has to be Spider-Man. It's his responsibility. He's been doing it alone all this time, and he would again if he had to. But he doesn't have to, and Harry refuses to do that to him. Peter spends all his time selflessly extending kindness to others; the least Harry could do is extend that selfless kindness back.
And yet-- it's liberating to have a world where Harry doesn't have to make that decision to give Peter a safe place to bleed, cry, and scream everyday. It's terribly selfish, and he'd feel more guilty for having that thought if he weren't so wrapped up in something where everything is okay and always has been.
Harry catches Peter's eye, and it's out of habit that he jerks his gaze away. It's gonna take some time to get used to being able to stare freely-- that it's encouraged, even. He tries - to possibly stupid lengths, perhaps - not to linger on Peter. The odds of Peter catching on at this point is terribly small, given how obtuse he is in contrast to how much of an open book Harry has always been. (It's pretty bad when your assistant can tell you've got it bad for your best friend that she's never even properly met. Felicia had the tact to mostly keep her comments to herself, at least.) But it's a... respect thing, he guesses.
But eventually his gaze wanders back when he realizes there's nothing to be ashamed of, a crooked smile slanting his mouth once Peter greets his staring with a smug invitation. Harry's not quite that bold yet. He's still terribly, adorably weak from all those loving kisses he received upstairs. But the bite of his lip and the warm crinkle of a smile in his eyes says that he's definitely filed the offer away for later, assuming he can ever gather the nerve. Just... having the option is nice, even if he's inevitably too shy to take Peter up on it.
...Especially when just the mention of them messing up the coffee table causes Harry to sputter. "I don't think we've ever been normal people, Pete," he counters, rubbing the side of his face as if it'll ebb away some of that ever-present heat. "Besides. Your idea of being organized is... well. Let's just say I'm pretty sure they would have ended up looking like that anyway."
Harry's more or less trying to take note of which cupboard Peter's pulling the glasses out of, but at some point, his eyes end up wandering up Peter's back and-- well. Really, Harry should know better than to attempt to pay any kind of attention to anything when there's a half-naked Peter Parker around. (Or just... when there's Peter Parker around in general, let's be real.) He misses about half of what Peter says, hearing the tail end of something about him not being innocent-- so he teasingly bats his eyes and gives his best stupid grin in response. "You sure?"
Small victories! ...Maybe. If Harry can manage to inconspicuously rummage through the cupboards while Peter's cleaning, that is. "Maybe I need to use the 'french toast' card more often." He laughs, taking the glass, electing only to take a few drinks. (He's pretty sure he'll just end up choking on it at the rate Peter's flustering him if he's not careful.) "Any special requests?" He didn't really get a good look in the fridge to see what kind of fruit they had, so... he's gonna assume that he has whatever Peter likes on his french toast on hand.
And, uh. He's just gonna hope Peter's not too suspicious while Harry starts poking around for a bowl and a frying pan. He figures that looks a little less suspicious than just... standing there and not starting breakfast.
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Harry'd be lying if he said he didn't wish they never had to deal with any of it. He's so proud of Peter for being a hero to the city, make no mistake. But... he also longs for the days when Peter was just Peter. Not bleeding and bruised all the time, not stopping psychopaths, not prowling the city... Harry misses having a peaceful life with his best friend.
But Harry keeps going because Peter needs that support. Peter's already made his decision: he has to be Spider-Man. It's his responsibility. He's been doing it alone all this time, and he would again if he had to. But he doesn't have to, and Harry refuses to do that to him. Peter spends all his time selflessly extending kindness to others; the least Harry could do is extend that selfless kindness back.
And yet-- it's liberating to have a world where Harry doesn't have to make that decision to give Peter a safe place to bleed, cry, and scream everyday. It's terribly selfish, and he'd feel more guilty for having that thought if he weren't so wrapped up in something where everything is okay and always has been.
Harry catches Peter's eye, and it's out of habit that he jerks his gaze away. It's gonna take some time to get used to being able to stare freely-- that it's encouraged, even. He tries - to possibly stupid lengths, perhaps - not to linger on Peter. The odds of Peter catching on at this point is terribly small, given how obtuse he is in contrast to how much of an open book Harry has always been. (It's pretty bad when your assistant can tell you've got it bad for your best friend that she's never even properly met. Felicia had the tact to mostly keep her comments to herself, at least.) But it's a... respect thing, he guesses.
But eventually his gaze wanders back when he realizes there's nothing to be ashamed of, a crooked smile slanting his mouth once Peter greets his staring with a smug invitation. Harry's not quite that bold yet. He's still terribly, adorably weak from all those loving kisses he received upstairs. But the bite of his lip and the warm crinkle of a smile in his eyes says that he's definitely filed the offer away for later, assuming he can ever gather the nerve. Just... having the option is nice, even if he's inevitably too shy to take Peter up on it.
...Especially when just the mention of them messing up the coffee table causes Harry to sputter. "I don't think we've ever been normal people, Pete," he counters, rubbing the side of his face as if it'll ebb away some of that ever-present heat. "Besides. Your idea of being organized is... well. Let's just say I'm pretty sure they would have ended up looking like that anyway."
Harry's more or less trying to take note of which cupboard Peter's pulling the glasses out of, but at some point, his eyes end up wandering up Peter's back and-- well. Really, Harry should know better than to attempt to pay any kind of attention to anything when there's a half-naked Peter Parker around. (Or just... when there's Peter Parker around in general, let's be real.) He misses about half of what Peter says, hearing the tail end of something about him not being innocent-- so he teasingly bats his eyes and gives his best stupid grin in response. "You sure?"
Small victories! ...Maybe. If Harry can manage to inconspicuously rummage through the cupboards while Peter's cleaning, that is. "Maybe I need to use the 'french toast' card more often." He laughs, taking the glass, electing only to take a few drinks. (He's pretty sure he'll just end up choking on it at the rate Peter's flustering him if he's not careful.) "Any special requests?" He didn't really get a good look in the fridge to see what kind of fruit they had, so... he's gonna assume that he has whatever Peter likes on his french toast on hand.
And, uh. He's just gonna hope Peter's not too suspicious while Harry starts poking around for a bowl and a frying pan. He figures that looks a little less suspicious than just... standing there and not starting breakfast.