The details - they appear and disappear, perhaps too conveniently, but Harry's investigations are all met with just enough to satisfy; even if, perhaps, sometimes it raises more questions than there are answers. There are things that are glossed over, but others that are met with slick answers (mentally slippery - just enough to answer the question, but perhaps not enough to stick...)
And Peter is there, every time, with honey on his tongue and a smile against Harry's mouth. This, at least, is in HD - every detail, beautifully crafted; the way Peter's mouth molds against Harry's, the way his lips part on a laugh as he licks his way into Harry's mouth. There is no shortage of intricacies to be found there.
He's different than the Peter Harry knows, but maybe...maybe that's better. How often has Harry thought of that sad, broken Peter Parker, anyway? When he has this one - wide-eyed and loving, showering him in affection, no bags under his eyes from sleepless nights. No guilt and shame, no tears, no death anniversary looming to ruin a random, innocuous day every year (or multiple days, as is Peter's curse). Is that Peter even real? How can he be, when he's so far removed from this one - and this one feels incredibly real when he's on top of you, doesn't he?
Harry whispers back to him, and Peter sighs happily, like that's all he's ever wanted to hear, too. His lips find Harry's over and over again, like it's a promise, and his hands slide down Harry's back, inviting him closer and closer, into his embrace (but never too close...)
Peter's hand is in Harry's, his wedding band warm from their skin, and Peter doesn't let go. In fact, he's curling their fingers together, his own thumb rubbing a gentle circle into the back of Harry's hand, and he doesn't have plans to stop anytime soon. Peter grins as Harry flushes, eyebrows rising, and expression Harry's seen a million times on his face, and why wouldn't it appear now? They're the same idiots they were before they're just - in love. Idiots in love. It's kind of perfect. (Not kind of, it is perfect.)
"Mm, you always do," Peter chuckles, mostly to himself, and his smile widens at Harry's laugh. Why wouldn't their first date involve plastic sharks filled with pomegranate juice? That's just the way their life works. Besides, while Harry can do the refined rich person thing, Peter can't; so they wind up meeting in the strangest of middles, most of the time (but the most wonderful, too). "It is, isn't it?"
Peter lights up in response to the awe in Harry's eyes, shining with triumph. He lifts the shark, squeezing Harry's hand. "To an eternity, Harry. Our perfect eternity."
They dump the sharks, and Peter takes a sip before leaning in to kiss Harry again, lips sticky-sweet with the syrup. He hums, and things are a little fuzzy, for a second - it's perfect isn't it perfect, Harry -
"Harry."
That's Peter's voice, but Peter's mouth is still on Harry's.
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And Peter is there, every time, with honey on his tongue and a smile against Harry's mouth. This, at least, is in HD - every detail, beautifully crafted; the way Peter's mouth molds against Harry's, the way his lips part on a laugh as he licks his way into Harry's mouth. There is no shortage of intricacies to be found there.
He's different than the Peter Harry knows, but maybe...maybe that's better. How often has Harry thought of that sad, broken Peter Parker, anyway? When he has this one - wide-eyed and loving, showering him in affection, no bags under his eyes from sleepless nights. No guilt and shame, no tears, no death anniversary looming to ruin a random, innocuous day every year (or multiple days, as is Peter's curse). Is that Peter even real? How can he be, when he's so far removed from this one - and this one feels incredibly real when he's on top of you, doesn't he?
Harry whispers back to him, and Peter sighs happily, like that's all he's ever wanted to hear, too. His lips find Harry's over and over again, like it's a promise, and his hands slide down Harry's back, inviting him closer and closer, into his embrace (but never too close...)
Peter's hand is in Harry's, his wedding band warm from their skin, and Peter doesn't let go. In fact, he's curling their fingers together, his own thumb rubbing a gentle circle into the back of Harry's hand, and he doesn't have plans to stop anytime soon. Peter grins as Harry flushes, eyebrows rising, and expression Harry's seen a million times on his face, and why wouldn't it appear now? They're the same idiots they were before they're just - in love. Idiots in love. It's kind of perfect. (
Not kind of, it is perfect.)"Mm, you always do," Peter chuckles, mostly to himself, and his smile widens at Harry's laugh. Why wouldn't their first date involve plastic sharks filled with pomegranate juice? That's just the way their life works. Besides, while Harry can do the refined rich person thing, Peter can't; so they wind up meeting in the strangest of middles, most of the time (but the most wonderful, too). "It is, isn't it?"
Peter lights up in response to the awe in Harry's eyes, shining with triumph. He lifts the shark, squeezing Harry's hand. "To an eternity, Harry. Our perfect eternity."
They dump the sharks, and Peter takes a sip before leaning in to kiss Harry again, lips sticky-sweet with the syrup. He hums, and things are a little fuzzy, for a second - it's perfect isn't it perfect, Harry -
"Harry."
That's Peter's voice, but Peter's mouth is still on Harry's.
"Harry."