Sunlight streams in through the window, diffused by a light, wispy white curtain. It gives the room a quiet glow, which makes for a very peaceful way to wake up. The clock on the bedside table reads 10:36, blinking over to 10:37 silently. Even the noise of the city seems quieter up here - and it would, considering it's floor 35 out of 37 (Peter's absolutely the one who insisted they
not live in a penthouse, are you kidding?) The walls - it's hard to tell what color they are, considering they're completely plastered with pictures. Harry's paintings and Peter's photography, pinned up in an amalgamation of memories. Only one of them is framed, one of Harry's paintings, sitting center above their bed. Peter's got a gradient type of thing going on, different levels of saturation in his pictures. The outside is black and white, leading up to full color where they surround Harry's paintings. Look a little closer and - well, half the pictures are
of Harry, laughing, smiling, scowling. Harry, sprawled out asleep on the couch, standing at the stove, bent over an easel concentrating on his detailing. Closeups of his lips, his hair, the crinkle of his eyelids. There's one by the doorjamb of Harry, clearly frustrated at Peter for taking so many damn pictures, reaching out in an obvious attempt to grab the other boy.
Something shifts under the covers, a little fluff of hair sticking out from the white, downy sheets. That would be Peter, in nothing but his boxers, pressing his legs against Harry's and looping an arm loosely over his chest. His ring is warm, warmed by the sleepy heat of Peter's body, but still an obvious presence against Harry's skin - if he's not too distracted by everything else to notice.
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newyorknative2016-08-14 05:49 pm
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Oh, it's correct. Cough. Peter just laughed warmly, rubbing his hand back over his neck. "Why don't you shut me up, hm?"
"No, never," Peter laughed and gave Harry a funny look, shifting his weight against the wall. "You're family now, you doofus. And if I have to suffer through the meatloaf, I sure as hell am gonna take you down with me." Peter's still a dick, all in all. "Maybe after breakfast, if you're not too much of an ass. Like I said, I have things to do today, Osborn, and so do you!"
"I take a lot of pictures, so I know that...you don't usually like your own work, you know? You see all the little imperfections that nobody else sees. It's a little off-center, or too underexposed, whatever - and it ruins it a little for you. It's good but it's not the best. That one's my favorite, yeah, because you took it, but because it's your favorite. You don't even see all of the little, usually imaginary imperfections we create in our own work." Peter kissed Harry's neck, working his lips up towards Harry's ear. "You love me so much, it doesn't matter. That's why it's my favorite."
"You've never seen you the way I do," Peter hummed, nuzzling his head against Harry's hand. He's not even jokingly protesting the warm digits, in fact, he's eagerly accepting it.
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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.
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Peter just laughs warmly and shrugs off-handedly, smile shy but still friendly and a bit flirty. Imagine what they must have been like when they first started out this nervous, wonderful thing they have (a downright trainwreck, obviously). "Yeah, but you've always been one for a challenge, Osborn." Hardly the worst one to surmount.
"I'd call it a trial, but it's not the worst. Glad you said that though, because now I have blackmail material until the end of time itself." Peter grins, and it turns into another laugh when Harry blushes. He looks him up and down for a second before, "Well you're always on my to-do list." Harry's red as a tomato, but if Peter thinks it odd, he doesn't say anything. Which, he doesn't think it's odd, it's Harry and Harry has always been an absolute dork when it comes to love, and certain physical expressions thereof. Peter thinks it's adorable. "I knew what I was getting into. Guess I only have myself to blame for that one."
"You sure? Because the sun's kind of the reason we're all here." Peter tilted his face up to kiss Harry's cheek as opposed to launching into some scientific tirade. At least he's learning to compromise. "I love you too, Harry. Each day, a little more, even when I didn't think it was possible to have any more room in my heart."
That just sends Peter into a fit of happy laughter, body shaking against Harry's back. He buries his giggles in Harry's shoulder, hair thick and wild between Harry's fingers. "...you sure? I could use another 'Harry Osborn Loses A Bet' photo for my collection."
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That look isn't tempting him any less, either. They probably had plenty of sweaty palms and embarrassing (but cute) nose bonking going on. "Okay, but there's a challenge... and then there's impossible. I don't think there's ever been a time where you haven't run your mouth," Harry countered with a teasing smile. He even brought a fist to his chin in thought to complete the whole thing. "Huh. Have you ever even been stunned into silence before?"
"Oh, come on! Hey! You're twisting my words-- that's not fair! ...You've already got a whole filing cabinet of things to hold over my head. You don't need any more." Harry's trying to pout, but damn if he can't stop smiling. Peter's follow-up remark - paired with the none too subtle look-over - only makes it worse and more obvious, even for all that Harry ducked his head and partially hid his face behind a hand. His grin practically went from ear to ear and for the umpteenth time, he cycled back around to the thought: I've gotta be dreaming. "No wonder you never get any work done," he half-mumbled. Because for as embarrassing and awkward as he could be, Harry knew himself well enough to know that he'd probably try and monopolize on that whenever he could. In fact, he could just about bet that it was one of his many tactics when Peter got into workaholic mode and started staying up too late.
Harry could also bet with twice as much certainty that Peter's already dangerous levels of influence over him reached ridiculous levels once they became a couple, which inspires his next answer: "Well, that and... I've gotta level the playing field somehow or I'd just be puddle of melted goo around you all the time."
True to form, he started to roll his eyes, fully expecting that scientific tirade, only for his exasperation to quickly evaporate into nothing once Peter pecked his cheek. Whatever snark that was waiting on the edge of his tongue left with it as Peter continued, leaving Harry perfectly, completely, and blissfully in awe. He didn't think his heart could possibly swell any more, and a joyful little laugh escaped him. For a moment, all he could do was turn enough so that he can properly bump his forehead against Peter's and hold him for a minute. Relish in how good it feels to hear those words in Peter's voice. "I never thought I'd be able to hear you say that," he said, and every bit of marvel that sprang through his heart and eyes reached his voice too. He almost forgot himself again and quickly corrected the statement. "I mean--... I used to. Even though we're best friends. You're like... way out of my league."
He's trying awfully hard not to laugh, but Peter's happiness is contagious and Harry is entirely too taken with the way he buries his laughter against his shoulder. "Stop!" he insisted amid a laugh of his own, giving Peter's hair a gentle and playful tug. "You do not need another one. The million you probably already have is enough! I need a collection of you losing bets. That's what needs to happen."
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"You could get anyone you wanted to, you idiot, but you've stuck yourself with me," Peter wiggled his left hand at Harry, ring shining in the morning light flooding the window. "No take-backs. I didn't come with a receipt, your mistake."
Oh god, the first kiss was a nightmare. All awkward angles and Peter's glasses were crooked on his face to begin with, so - it was perfect, in its own right. "Kinda hard to run my mouth when there's something in it, buddy." Aaaand there it is. Yahtzee. "Don't flatter yourself, Harold, that's my job."
"Well stop handing them out like candy!" Peter snickered, shaking his head as Harry tried to pull a pout from the edges of his smile. It really wasn't working, poor thing. "If I moved it to every other day, I'm pretty sure you'd die. You remember the No Shave November incident." Oh, absolutely. Peter was only barely capable of ignoring Harry, and it certainly couldn't last forever.
"Are you trying to tell me you're not a puddle of goo, because have I got some news for you - "
It really is some ideal, alternate reality. Could this - them, together - ever exist in Harry's world? It just seemed way too good to be true. Peter laughed again, bumping his nose softly against Harry's, arms wrapped comfortably around his hips. "You honestly believe I'm out of your league, and I gotta say, it's still cute as hell. No, Harry, if anyone's in a different league it is definitely you, Mr. GQ."
"But I'm making a photo album!" Peter shook his head, pressing his face into Harry's neck instead. "Better chance of a real tooth fairy appearing than me losing a bet to you, babe."
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"Oh, gee, Peter. What a horrible predicament I'm in." Harry couldn't manage to sound as sassy as he wanted to when Peter was standing there, proudly putting his wedding ring on display. His heart was too busy soaring to even pretend to be salty. "Being married to some jerk I love more than anything for the rest of my life? You're right, this stinks."
Adorable and 100% dorky, just like them. Something to look back on fondly with plenty of facepalms and laughter. Whatever semblance of self-control Harry thought he was finally getting back - for however brief a moment - promptly went back out the window. "Peter!" Both hands slapped over Harry's face this time, like maybe it would somehow alleviate the astronomic levels of fluster Peter just caused. Pretty sure that was a muffled, 'oh my god' somewhere in there, too. If he turns any more red, he might actually pass out. To echo his thoughts, he pointed out, "I can't cook you breakfast if I'm unconscious. Remember that, will you?"
"Or you could be a little more merciful." But they both knew that wasn't happening. And like everything else Peter kept bringing up, Harry - of course - did not remember, but found himself curious all the same. "What, like you wouldn't?" It's more curious than it is indignant, because Harry could secretly buy that he wouldn't be able to hold out long. He had to laugh a little to himself, though. "Geez, you make it sound like I'm so high-maintenance..."
"Alright, fine! I'm always a puddle of goo around you."
All the more reason for Harry to enjoy it while he could. If large pieces of the past weren't lost to him, he'd probably even fall into it and let himself forget that this wasn't reality. They seemed so happy; it was intoxicating. And being this close to Peter made it easy to forget whatever worries had ailed him before. It's a little less bashfully that he accepts the shows of affection and decides to return them with some of his own. He rests his hands on Peter's shoulders at first until they're trailing down his arms, curious, memorizing the muscle. "'Cause you are, Mr. Super-Genius. You can't keep throwing the GQ thing at me."
He tipped his chin back with another laugh, trying not to shake his head too much in disbelief. "I made a pig fly once! Don't be so sure!" And speaking of flying pigs, Harry couldn't help but wonder-- was Bethany here with them? ...Imagine all the confusion it would cause when Harry prattled on about their little Bethany and it turned out to be a pig instead of a child.
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"You laugh, but I'm not convinced you understand the gravity of your own situation." Peter teased, threading his fingers through Harry's. "I'm definitely a jerk. Your jerk. Tough break, babe."
"What?" Peter echoed sweetly, swallowing his snickering. It was just so easy to wind him up! Peter was genuinely enjoying the flustered red splotches decorating Harry's cheeks, and he grinned, leaning in to press a kiss into Harry's hair. "Am I wrong, though? If I can talk while I'm doing that I'm pretty sure I'm doing it wrong - " He allowed himself a small chuckle, smirk still tinging his lips. "If you're unconscious...pretty sure I'm doing it wrong babe. Besides, I think it's only polite for you to cook for me - "
"Where's the fun in that?" Peter snorted and squeezed Harry a little tighter. "Let's not make this into a battle of who can last longer. Pretty sure I'' better at distracting myself, so..." Oh, he'd definitely be dying, but Peter was better at keeping his whining to himself. Most of the time. "You are! Dare I say you're actually worth it, god help me."
"Hardly a super genius, and oh yes I can. I'm holding out for when it inevitably happens and I have an actual GQ cover to frame on the wall." Peter hums, welcoming the touch easily, rolling his head back on his neck. He's perhaps - a bit older? Not by much, though, he's filled out a little. Maybe that's how he would have turned out if not for the bite. Or maybe it's a side effect of actually eating, both are equally plausible.
"If you make the tooth fairy real, the honest to god tooth fairy, I don't even know what your prize will be but I promise it'll be good."
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"You say that like I'd have chosen to be anywhere else, even if we weren't a couple." And that was true regardless of the reality they were in. "Besides, who else could put up with you? I wouldn't wanna subject some poor innocent person to your crap. They'd probably lose their marbles."
Oh, no. Don't act all innocent, Peter. The endearing little kiss might have been more soothing if Peter didn't insist on continuing. Harry practically sputtered, only cracking open his fingers enough to glare at Peter from between them. "That's not what I meant and you know it!" He attempted to bump Peter away from him with his shoulder, refusing to take his hands away from his face-- as if it wasn't already glaringly obvious how red he was or how much he was trying not to grin or laugh or anything that might be encouraging. "Stop it, already!"
At least Harry was already so red that it didn't matter that Peter pulling them even closer together got him flustered all over again. He worried the inside of his bottom lip for a moment. ...Right now, he could probably win, he thinks. After all, he hasn't slept with him. Therefore, in theory, he doesn't really know what he's missing. Ignoring the fact that he's burning with curiosity, Harry totally has a recipe for victory. Right? Definitely no way he could lose. And... it's that folly in thought that makes him actually consider betting Peter, if only to wipe that smug look off his face. "Distracting yourself?" A scoff. "No, I bet you'd just cheat by dangling yourself in front of me so I would lose." Is he right or is he right?" A disbelieving laugh escaped him. "I am not high-maintenance! You can't butter me up on that one. Take it back."
"Keep dreaming, pal. It's not gonna happen." He sounds distracted-- and he is. Now that he's actually let himself slow down a little bit and really take in how Peter looks, how he feels under his fingertips without having to immediately swallow down his feelings... It's a little entrancing. He notices the little changes in Peter's physique, too. Harry's always tried not too study him too much, but sometimes, you just pick up the details without even realizing when something's that interesting, that important to you. His hands have wandered back up Peter's arms and over his shoulders until they're trailing across his collarbone and down his sides. He's a little shy about it, but ever curious.
"All those Norse myths ended up being real, right? I mean, we've got the God of Thunder running around somewhere. I'm pretty sure I could find a tooth fairy."
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"Mm, I'm sure you'd have some supermodel hanging off you. You're just that incredible," Peter made a face, wrinkling his nose. "And what does that say about you?" Couple of idiots, aren't they?
"But am I wrong?" Peter couldn't help his laugh, pressing his face against Harry's insistently, his own hands moving to tug lightly at Harry's. "Aw, you know I never will. We'll be 80 and you'll still be blushing. Just face the music already." It was cute, okay, and to be honest, this Peter didn't feel any qualms about teasing Harry. They were married, it stood to reason they'd sealed the deal.
Solid logic there, Harry. No way that could blow up in your face. Nope. Nuh uh. Not like you're going to be wondering what you could be having the entire time or anything. Peter raises an eyebrow, head cocking slightly to the side. "I don't have to do a damn thing. You'll drive yourself crazy anyway. Re: No Shave November." And yes, Peter was good at losing himself in his work and if he intentionally did so, force to be reckoned with over there. "You so are and I will not. We almost left that restaurant the other night because they didn't have any available booth seating."
"Totally going to happen. I could make it happen. Watch out, Osborn." Peter definitely doesn't mind the touch, smiling as Harry's hands wander over his chest, his arms. His own hands come to rest on Harry's waist, thumbs brushing his hipbones lightly, and intimate familiarity. "God of thunder? Yeah, I doubt it."
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"What d'you mean? I already do." Harry thinks he's so smooth. "It means that I'm the greatest, most amazing best friend on the planet." But he's really just so full of shit.
There's some muffled grumbling in response - who even knows what Harry said, especially when it's largely cut off by laughter. "No! Lemme go!" he cries with a laugh, only half-heartedly trying to wrestle away. Peter does succeed in getting his hands away from his face a little, though. "Only 'cause you go out of your way to make fun of me. I'd hope by that point you finally ran out of things to tease me with." But they never would. They both just kept giving each other more ammunition the longer they were friends. "You're the worst." But he means it fondly.
He's already having a hell of a time not wondering, especially when Peter continues to sidle up into his personal space in naught but his underwear, talking freely about the intimate details of their life. "I--! That is not true. I have better self-control than that!" he tries to insist. "I've managed to keep my hands to myself when I wasn't sure how you felt about me! And there were a lot of times I wanted to kiss you. I think that deserves a medal." With all of his damn pining. Oh, Harry wouldn't stand a chance. And eventually, he - or a Harry that was more comfortable and confident, at least - would get so
desperatedetermined to win that he'd probably start going out of his way to appeal to Peter until he's all but sauntering around their apartment naked. "We did not." Not that Harry would know, seeing as he couldn't remember any of it, but it's in his nature to argue. "I am not that bad! Come off it!""You could make it happen? ...Uh-huh. How?" Harry almost doesn't hear Peter's answer to their asinine little argument about making bets, swept up in Peter and the fingers running along his waist. "Huh--?" It takes a minute for the words to sink in, and the way Peter said them. There's no recognition in them. Did Thor not exist here? And that, of course, causes a chain reaction of wondering what else was different about this reality. Maybe Peter wasn't Spider-Man here. It'd explain why he looked so much happier and healthier. In light of that hunch, Harry scrambled to come up with a response. "I mean-- what, you don't think I could pull that off? Look, I'm all manly and full of muscles!" At which Harry pulled his hands away from their wandering fascination with Peter's body long enough to playfully flex his muscles in over-the-top fashion. "Just gimme a hammer, and we're golden!"
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It says something about how deep their love must be that the line works, with barely more than a genuinely happy smile and an only-mildly mocking raise of his brow. "Well, I mean, statistically..."
"But I promised not to," Peter grins, steadfastly refusing to let it up. Especially when Harry was such a fantastic shade of red. "Oh Harry, have I got news for you - " Yes, yes they absolutely would. Living together, being married, and getting into all sorts of ridiculous shenanigans as they did, they both had enough to bury each other. "My, someone's changed their tune from last night."
"Really? Where?" Peter grinned again, clearly not buying it. Perhaps by this point, for him, all of their walls have been broken down. Besides, it's much harder to resist when you know you can have it. "That was then, this is now, as they say. Fortunately, you've been robbed of that innocence, so good luck. You're gonna need it." If Peter is confident about one thing, it's how much his husband loves him. So different from Harry's Peter, constantly drained by the weight of the world on his shoulders and the fear of something terrible just around the corner - and yet, the same. Who Peter could have been. What an interesting battle of wills that would be, huh? "You so are! You pulled the 'Osborn' card, come on. It wasn't even that great a restaurant!"
"I know people! People who owe me favors. I'm magic, dude." The flexing gets a snort, and Peter just lets his hands wrap around Harry's waist, pulling him in a little closer. "I think the long hair would be a bit of a dealbreaker there." Peter laughed and let his forehead drop to Harry's shoulder, a simple gesture. "Full of something alright."
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No wrinkled nose, eye-rolling, or smartass remark? Wow. If Harry looks both pleased and surprised, it's because he definitely is. "I'm no good at statistics. All I know is that you're a pain in the ass and I'm a professional at dealing with you." As if that doesn't apply to them in the reverse, either. It's a mutual trial of being able to put up with each other.
"I think that was supposed to be more metaphorical. Not literal, Pete." He laughs a little, because once his hands are fully pulled away from his face, their foreheads bonk together. "--I guess I can't really argue when I'm over here burning up." The heat is practically radiating off his face, and even more so with Peter weaseling in so close to him. He sort of just lets his hands rest on the sides of Peter's face after a moment, thumbs brushing over his jaw. Harry wouldn't admit it, but it doesn't sound so bad at all. They'd never be bored with each other, at least, with all their antics. "What's with all the music jokes this morning?" As for changing his tune, well-- he can imagine. Judging by Peter's account of the whole thing, he was apparently very vocal about his approval. At this rate, he's never going to ease back into a normal color. "And anyway, you can be the best and still be the worst. It's a talent you excel in, bud." It's been true for the duration of their friendship, and he's positive it's true for their marriage, too.
"All... the time?" It sounds weak even to Harry. He's got Chronic Foot-in-Mouth Syndrome. He's been known to throw actual temper tantrums when he's really upset. Self-control and Harry Osborn don't get along too well. It's just that... he cared more about his friendship with Peter than trying to be with him, enough that it enforced self-control. Now that he doesn't have to... Well. Good-bye, self-control. He'll still try out of respect, but after a while, he'll realize it's pointless. At the moment, there's still some niggling feeling that he's taking advantage somehow keeping him in check, so he laughs and his gaze dodges floorward. "You're pretty irresistible, it's true-- but you're also over-confident. What's the saying... there's a fine line between brilliance and over-confidence?" Indeed, it makes his heart ache a little. They do alright, sure-- but Peter's always carrying so much loss and pain with him that it's bittersweet to see him so carefree here. More because this... probably isn't real, and more than anything, Harry wants to keep seeing his smile and laugh so pure and happy. So interesting. What would even win? Harry's ridiculously stubborn nature or his attraction to Peter? Either way, he'd probably get so cranky after a while that he'd become insufferable. (Or really funny, depending on how much of a jerk Peter feels like being.) "You're making that up. That never happened!" He's in denial that he's that much of a pain in the rear.
"You know people? Whoa... But that would mean you'd have to've left your nerd hubs at some point! You're stretching reality a little bit with that one." A surprised sound escapes him, but he relaxes slowly into the arms around his waist, returning the embrace with such care. It's so foreign to him, this intimacy with Peter, that he can't help it. It's with some well-meaning hesitance that he relents and lays his head against Peter's with a contented smile, lightly running his fingers against the back of the other man's neck. "Yeah, don't worry-- I don't think I could pull that off either," he answers with a laugh of his own. What he's got now is as long as it goes and even that is hard to manage some days. How some women can endure curly hair that's any longer than this is a mystery to him.
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"If it's painful I'm pretty sure we're doing something wrong." Ah, there's the devilish smartassery. "Yeah, you do take to it like a duck to water. Natural ability." Somehow, they manage to balance each other out. Don't ask Peter how it works, it just, blessedly, does.
"Mm, well can you blame me for taking it that way?" Peter hummed, winking at Harry when he finally looked up at him. Peter nudged his face into Harry's hands, happily obliging by moving in closer. "I figured I'd do you a favor and use simple metaphors. Wouldn't want you to strain yourself this early in the day." Peter certainly doesn't mind. Harry's cute when he's all flushed like that, like this hasn't been going on for years at this point (for Peter, it has). But it kind of makes him feel good, thinking he can still elicit reactions like that from his husband. "I dunno, seems like an oxymoron to me. Might want to get your money back on those English credits."
Peter just smiles, not even needing to dignify that with an answer - they both knew that was hardly the case. Maybe back then, when they first...there was a lot of fumbling and mistaken communication between them, because they were awkward and unsure and so very scared of messing it all up. That's a pretty hefty moral compass you've got there, Harry. Whose to say this isn't just a dream? And you're still not letting loose? Peter lets his hand drift up, thumb brushing gently over the curve of Harry's jaw. "Not over-confident. Just confident about you. Don't tell me I need to start second guessing now." That's just the world they live in. Well, the world Harry lives in. Maybe it is real, maybe it isn't. If it is...someone somewhere has a lot of explaining to do. "Don't tell me you've blocked it out of your memory already!"
"You're the one that drags me out! Maybe don't do that if you aren't prepared to suffer the consequences." The surprise is a little odd, but Peter glosses over it, turning his head to press his lips to Harry's throat. He sighs happily at the fingers grazing his neck, just relaxing in their embrace for a moment. "...would like to see you with the hammer, though. Halloween costume, file that away."
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If you keep Harry at this level of blushing, Peter, he might eventually pass out, you know. "God-- will you stop?" he insists with a laugh, tilting his chin to the side and away from their touching foreheads. Since hiding his face in his hands is no longer an option, he just kind of ends up resting his forehead against Peter's shoulder instead. That's where he intends to keep it until his face feels significantly less like an oven. "Well, someone has to. Spares the rest of the city from having to put up with you."
"I can, but I guess I won't." Peter nestling closer to him, encouraging the hands on his face-- every bit warm and loving. For the hundredth time, Harry feels like putty in Peter's arms. He hasn't really had the privilege of being this close to Peter before, where their noses are nearly touching and their breath starts to mingle. He can see all the color in Peter's eyes, clear as day. For the hundredth time, his curiosity beckons him before his brain can give permission, and he's studying Peter all over again with his fingers. This time, he's tracing his fingertips over his cheekbones, then down and over the corners of his lips. Perfectly in awe of him. Enough that he barely reacts when Peter teases him. He just chuckles quietly. "Yeah, well. You were always good at making the impossible possible. Don't doubt it, pal."
When you're as important to Harry as Peter is, he has a way of doing that. He's not sure what this is, but after ages of repressing his feelings, there's going to be some plentiful hesitation at letting go of his inhibitions. He does tip his chin into the touch, though, closing his eyes for a moment with a smile. "--No. I'm crazy about you, Pete. Always will be." He only opens his eyes to squint at Peter with a lopsided grin. "I haven't blocked anything out of my memory! I'm just saying, I think you're embellishing."
"And by consequences, do you mean... earning the ire of all the rich and powerful people in New York by associating with you? Cause the only social interaction I've seen you make is pissing them off." A tiny shiver travels up Harry's spine once Peter's lips touch his neck, and he can't help but tilt his head back a bit for him, a delighted little sigh of his own escaping past his lips. Encouraged, he keeps lightly trailing his fingers along the back of Peter's neck, periodically wandering down his back a bit to weave over the bumps of his spine. "Oh, geez. Would I have to wear the helmet and cape and everything?"
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There's something about the way Harry's touching him that registers as odd in the back of Peter's brain, but only vaguely. He tilts gently into the wandering fingers, eyes searching Harry's face for a long moment. Whatever he finds doesn't seem to alarm him, at least. "Tell that to my vaccination assistants, for the love of God."
Peter grants that admission with a full, on-the-mouth kiss. Okay, maybe he said no to the morning breath but there's only so long Peter can be expected to hold back when Harry is saying sweet things like that to him. Seriously, what's gotten into his husband? He pulls back with a light swipe of his tongue against Harry's bottom lip, thumb resting on Harry's chin. Peter chuckles softly, shaking his head at Harry's futile protests. "You're a total dork, you know that?"
"Hey! How many years have you been dragging me to this crap? I've learned a thing or two. Besides, more people dislike you than me. All I have to do is tell them it'll spite you." Peter teases, shivering pleasantly at the fingers running down his spine. "Absolutely. What do you think this is, second-rate Thor?"
"Come on," Peter tugs at Harry's hand, pulling back just enough to nod to the door. "Let's survey the damage so I can claim my sandwich. I really do have errands to run, especially if we're leaving Monday."
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There's almost a falter when it registers that Peter's studying him in turn. Crap. Is he being too overt? He doesn't mean to, but it's hard not to get swept up in all the little things he's tried not to indulge in mulling over. Should he say something? Or maybe--
But just as Harry starts to scramble for an excuse, Peter catches him completely off guard with a kiss. Not just the gentle, adoring pecks that have been dotted along his neck and shoulders throughout the morning. No-- Peter's lips are suddenly against his, every bit warm and sincere. For a moment, Harry's so sure his heart's leaped high enough to burst from his chest. On Harry's list of things he specifically tried not to think about for the sake of his sanity, kissing Peter was high on the list. Why humor something he can't have? But now, here they are, and Harry surprises himself by how easily, how eagerly he reciprocates it. Suffice it to say, morning breath is the last thing on Harry's mind. Absentmindedly, he even chases after Peter's lips and the tease of his tongue some when the other man pulls back before he catches himself. Whatever sarcastic reply he might have articulated for that comment is long gone, and all Peter gets in response is the dizziest and most delighted of smiles.
You can call him a dork all you want if you keep kissing him like that, Peter.
"Whoa, hey, no need to get personal," Harry insists. It's clear Peter's only teasing him, but it's probably true. If the guy really wanted to, he could just about see Peter swinging it. "But the helmet looks so dorky!" A cape could look dashing if you wore it the right way, but a big helmet with wings on it? Ew. Harry's fashion sense is tingling.
"Hm?" Leaving? What were they leaving for? Making note to try and dig around for it in a calendar or a planner or something later, Harry tries not to look too confused about it. He's probably already toeing the line on acting suspicious. As it is, he's reluctant to let Peter wander too far from him now; he was just getting used to being so close with him. "--You sure? Can I take back what I said? 'Cause I could kinda go for some more cuddling." It'd be more of a joke if he weren't so serious.
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Peter laughs happily at Harry's smile, unable to resist leaning in just one more time for one last peck (lord, the number of times he's said that to himself and ended up twenty minutes late to something important dear God) before he legitimately does pull away, patting Harry's cheek fondly with the hand holding his chin. The fact that it's so normal for them and Harry's staring at him like he gave him the sun is just plain adorable. Doesn't look like that spark is going anywhere anytime soon.
"Hey, people think we're cute. Just making sure you don't forget it." Peter scolds teasingly, mirth shining in his eyes. "Sounds like it would suit you perfectly, then."
"I've got a lab schedule to set for the week and our bills are due next Wednesday so I've got to get them paid today." Peter levels Harry with a mildly annoyed eyebrow raise (like he's not still going to give in anyway, come on). "The whole trip was your idea, you know. I was fine just doing dinner but noooo, someone decided a week in Upstate New York was a better idea. It's not even like we hit a big number you doofus."
"...but I guess five minutes wouldn't hurt." Peter's already tugging Harry back towards the bed, though, knees hitting the comforter as he let himself fall back onto it. "It is pretty romantic, I'll give you that, but it only makes me worry for how you're going to top yourself. Because I know you'll try."
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That dopey star-struck look is going to be glued to Harry's face all day at this rate and that Peter seems endeared by it is ever encouraging. Harry could probably stand to be less openly awed, but then, he's always been the kind of guy who wears his heart on his sleeve. That's not to say he can't be annoyingly good at hiding things, but it usually takes a lot more effort and a solid reason. He's lacking both right at the moment, especially when Peter leans in to steal another kiss. It certainly feels real. Somewhere in the back of Harry's mind, he knows there's something odd about that. About how very convincing all of this is, right down to the sensation of Peter's lips against his. It ends up buried under his preoccupation with everything else.
"They do?" It's a little silly to be delighted by the idea that the public finds them charming, but for a couple of guys who never really fit in, it's pretty nice. With the way Harry longs for positive attention, it can't be helped. "I mean-- of course they do. Cutest couple in New York, right?" A faux-offended scoff escapes him just then. "Hey! Who are you calling dorky looking?"
Maybe Harry would be more sympathetic if the idea of him and Peter sharing a life together didn't still have him completely over the moon. It's completely ridiculous, really-- even the smallest of things - their bills and that look he's getting from Peter right now - have him smiling. And then Peter starts talking about the trip in detail, and it doesn't take all that long for it to click. An anniversary trip? That's gotta be it. How long has it been for them? He can't help but wonder, but he reels his mind in from wandering enough to remark back, "Well, if I don't make you take a vacation, who will?"
And he's not even the least bit apologetic when Peter indulges him in his request. Flustered, however? Oh, yes. He ends up tumbling forward with Peter when he falls back against the bed, a tangle of limbs as his cheeks heat up and his ears burn all over again. He tries not to linger much, suddenly very aware of how little clothing there actually is between them. Eventually, however, he nestles into a comfortable spot at Peter's side, where he rests his cheek against Peter's chest.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Harry teases. It's always been a thing of his to go overboard for his loved ones. Ramp that up by ten when he's in love, and there's a recipe for completely absurd and over-the-top gifts. "--But if I did, I would say that I'm never in any shortage of great ideas."
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He's such a goof. If Peter notices anything, he doesn't mention it, moving to scoop his glasses off the bedside table and affix them to his face with a couple of blinks as he readjusts to the prescription. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?" Peter chuckles, lacing his fingers with Harry's and shaking his head fondly. "I know you're convinced deep down he really cares, but the only reason Jameson printed that headline is because he's obnoxious."
"Doesn't take away from the fact that we are the cutest couple," Peter allows, however, teasing grin breaking through onto his lips. "No one important."
"Why would I possibly need a vacation?" Peter rearranges them comfortably, not at all hesitating to curl close to Harry. He tangles their legs together, other arm draped across Harry's back, one hand lazily tracing a line down the side of Harry's neck onto his shoulder. Peter presses another kiss into Harry's wild hair, settling comfortably into the pillow. "Uh huh. Sure. You think you're so subtle, too."
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It's nice.
"What?" Harry laughs, squeezing Peter's hand as he pulls it close. They've been holding hands off and on throughout the morning, but he still finds himself entranced by it. By all the simple things-- like mapping out how their hands fit together and trailing his fingers along Peter's. It's a bit funny, perhaps, how marveling and exploring is all he's been able to do once he finally began to relax. He's so taken by his simple but very sincere curiosity. "Why would someone print that to be obnoxious? That guy's brand of obnoxious is like... straight-up slander and suffocating the entire Bugle building with cigar smoke. I've never heard him call anyone cute, even as a joke." He tilts his head up to properly meet Peter's eyes with a smug little grin tugging at his lips.
"Much of a sleazeball as that guy can be, I think even he has to appreciate a Grade A shithead that's simultaneously the hardest working nerd on the planet. You've done a lot for the Bugle." --Probably? Unless Peter never worked for him here. What a headache.
"Why--? I repeat, hardest working nerd on the planet." Apart from the fact that Harry apparently can't keep his hands off his husband long enough for said husband to get any real work done. It's not incredibly difficult to see why when they're wrapped up in each other like this. You hear, "I could stay like this forever," from couples in love stories, and you kind of roll your eyes at how corny it sounds until you're swept up in the arms of someone you love. For all that Harry pretends not to be a sap, he's nothing but and it shows in the way he's reduced into a contented glorified blanket against Peter.
All Peter's last comment gets in a lazy rumble in response. Harry's far too wrapped up in all the little things again, savoring the closeness between them and the warmth of Peter's palms roving lazily against his shoulder and back. Doesn't dare close his eyes for fear of finding it all gone when he opens them again. No-- he merely watches the soft rise and fall of Peter's chest, letting his fingers idly wander with it.
"You can just skip the agenda for today, right, pal?" he half-mumbles, smiling to himself because he's too comfortable to manage even the few inches it would require to tilt his head back and smile at Peter instead. "'Cause I'm... really okay with staying like this all day."
And all tomorrow. And... probably the day after that, too.
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It certainly is a change of pace from the usual, pleasantly so.
Peter chuckles and squeezes Harry's hand back, thumb brushing over his knuckles idly as Harry plays with his fingers. He doesn't seem to find it odd, at least, but rather endearing. "Slander? Gosh, Harry, you know he practically took it all back after we announced our engagement. That headline was as close to an apology as you're ever going to get." Peter smiled, crinkling the corners of his eyes. "He just likes to rile you up."
He then rolled his eyes at Harry, leaning down to peck a kiss to Harry's forehead. "I took a couple of lousy pictures in high school to help pay the bills. It was nothing major."
"Yeah, but I like what I do. Taking a break from work feels like work." It's a totally Peter thing to fucking say, that he's happiest in a lab surrounded by - surprise! - science. He snorts, glancing down at his husband again. "But I guess getting you all to myself is well worth the trade off."
"Nuh uh mister, I seriously have to get at least...three things done today." Peter tilted his head down to brush his lips against the shell of Harry's ear, a light, gentle grazing. "You'll have your turn, promise." His hand makes another loop around, stroking down Harry's neck and shoulder.
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The stark reminder of how awful things have gotten for them both just beckons Harry to retreat further into... whatever this is. With some fretful determination, he buries his face further against Peter's neck as if to drown out that reality. It feels real enough to convince him for the time being. Or rather, real enough for Harry to convince himself. This - curled up in bed with a Peter Parker that's his husband, that's happy - is an easier reality to swallow than the maelstrom of stress and heartache he's been living, after all.
It doesn't occur to him how desperately he's been clutching Peter's hand for the past couple of moments until it's probably too late to pass it off as nothing, but he tries anyway. Tries to will himself to relax and relish in this bizarre slice of bliss he's been offered.
Opting to focus on their conversation instead, Harry grumbles, "He does he pretty good job of it." Dream or not, there's no reality where he can imagine that Jameson has ever been nice to him. Or anybody, really. Guy's a jerk to his own wife, for crying out loud. He only wishes he could have seen and heard that closest-approximation-to-an-apology himself. "Whatever, Pete-- your pictures were anything but lousy." And there's certainly no reality where Peter doesn't have a good eye for photography. Hell, their room is a monument of it. About the time he peers up from the pillow he's made out of Peter to let his eyes rove over the pictures one more time, he's greeted with a kiss to the forehead.
Even better.
Just like that, there's a dopey grin spreading across his face again, and his dreary thoughts about reality seem to drift away. A dopey grin that only turns fondly exasperated once Peter continues on to declare his love for science. "God, you are such a nerd, you know that?" He snorts back at Peter, his grin going crooked. "Gee, I'm up there with science now? What an honor. Didn't think you loved anything more than science.
"Ah, well. Can't blame me for trying," Harry remarks with a laugh, which tapers off into nothing more than a weak little breath once Peter presses his lips against his ear. At Peter's reassurance, Harry pauses, his curiosity wandering back to this trip of theirs. He carefully shifts until he can look at Peter more fully without moving either of them around too much. "So--" Where are we going? he wants to ask, until he remembers that he apparently planned the trip. That wouldn't fly. Searching for a way to broach the subject as inconspicuously as possible, Harry ends up loosening his hand from Peter's to idly trace lines along his chest while he grasps for words.
"Uh-- there's gotta be something you're looking forward to, right? Y'know, places you wanna take pictures of or whatever, being the shutterbug you are."
At this point, Harry knows himself well enough to know that he probably went out of his way to find a place he could convince Peter to enjoy in a concerted effort to get him to grumble less about having to leave home.
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Who can blame Harry for caving to the fantasy? If his version of Peter were here...well, he'd thought about caving for far less.
"Agree to disagree." Peter wouldn't be Peter if he accepted a single goddamn compliment, ever, in his life. And if Peter has any worries about Harry clutching at him so tightly, he doesn't voice them. Instead, Harry gets tucked in against his chest a little tighter, and Peter rests his cheek in the hollow of Harry's neck. "Hm, not like I work for a biomed company where the prerequisite is ultimate nerdiness or anything..." Peter laughs, nose scrunching in thought. "Damn right it's an honor. Right up there with being knighted."
"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly a landscape artist." Peter snorted, using his newly freed hand to run his fingers through Harry's hair. "I'm looking forward to spending time with you. What we do is completely irrelevant."
"Though," Peter paused thoughtfully, gazing up towards their ceiling. "I'm holding out hope that this time, I won't have a panic attack. That'd be nice, you know, change it up a bit."
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Suffice to say, that wasn't in the cards. Their lives went down a crapshoot instead, and Harry never got to know any of those things. All he's come to know is how much suffering Peter deals with on a daily basis. All he's come to know is how much corruption is tangled with Oscorp. All he's come to know is heartbreak.
And yes-- it gets easier and easier and easier to fall into this pleasant little slice of life. Because he finally gets an idealistic answer to those curious daydreams. Because Peter is finally happy. Because Harry finally gets to be happy, too.
Harry gives him a playful long-suffering sigh; he can't actually muster up any frustration. Peter's never been able to take a damn compliment. Nothing new there. He is - however - relieved that Peter says nothing over his slight desperation. If anything, he just ends up pulled closer, and Harry's less shy about sinking into the embrace this time. "Yeah, but even for a nerd, you're a nerd," he counters, returning Peter's warm laugh with one of his own. "Wow, what a prestigious prize. Better than the Nobel."
"Well, I know, but--" Something about the way Peter says that - 'I'm looking forward to spending time with you. What we do is completely irrelevant.' - while he's running his fingers through his hair, resting his cheek against his neck so tenderly... it melts Harry's heart. Part of him is eager to see what the rest of their apartment looks like, what the rest of their life looks like, but it's the things like that that keep him wanting to stay glued here. They're tangled together so closely that he can almost feel Peter's heartbeat against his skin, and-- he honestly can't think of anywhere else he'd rather be... "Oh, good, 'cause the Headless Horseman wanted to know if we'd swing by Sleepy Hollow for dinner," he teases lazily, deciding to indulge in a kiss to the top of Peter's head.
Oh, Peter... It's such a weird intricate detail, but it only makes this whole thing feel even more real. Because Peter liked being surrounded by New York's towering buildings; they've been a constant throughout Peter's life. First time he ever stepped food in a wide-open space, he freaked. Harry felt so bad for him; he figured it was a sensory overload thing. So... Peter gets a sympathetic smile, and Harry's fingers move up from their idle tracing to brush across Peter's cheek. "So... no to rafting, then." It's a gentle tease, aiming only to make Peter smile. "Well, if all else fails, there's at least always a nice, cushy, safe bed to hide in."
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But reality isn't quite as nice to them, is it? Certainly not as comfortable as where they are right now, nothing to taint this infinite moment of cuddling and love.
"You get what you pay for," Peter teases, pressing a light kiss to Harry's throat.
"Have you ever thought to yourself, 'hm, maybe I can stop being a shit for five minutes'?" Peter snorts, tangling their legs together. He's not afraid to get close, and there's nothing platonic about it when Peter hums contentedly at the kiss Harry presses to the top of his head. "Just because I believe in ghosts - I never should have told you, honestly - "
Maybe it says something how thoroughly Harry's mind understands Peter, that it can conjure up such a convincing version of his best friend.Peter turns his face up towards Harry with a grin, tilting his cheek into Harry's light touch. The smile he gives him is a little guilty - because it is a shame, to go all that way and for Peter to feel like maybe he's wasting Harry's vacation - but a smile nonetheless. He leans in to kiss Harry again, just a gentle, short brush of lips. "I can think of way better things to do in bed than hide. It's not so bad, when I've got you...distracting me."
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