Chapter Text
Spider-Man landed roughly against Harley’s window. His arms ached and his fingers shook. His skin felt like it was on fire. More than once, on the way over, had he almost fallen or nearly ran into a building.
Now that he was here, he suddenly found himself hesitating. What was he thinking coming all the way over here? Well…he wasn’t exactly thinking at all. What could he even say? What should he say?
His instincts had told him to run to Harley for comfort…for safety. To spill his heart out. To rid himself of the anxiety crushing against his chest. Suffocating him. Making him feel claustrophobic in his own suit. It made even breathing under the mask feel constrictive when before it always had felt comfortable.
He found himself tugging on the window anyway. And of course Harley had his window unlocked. Though, living a couple stories up in New York, you aren’t ever usually too concerned about someone climbing the brick and bursting into your home. Did this count as breaking and entering? Would Harley be mad? Would he be annoyed?
He still can’t forget the way Harley’s face drained when Spider-Man said he’d never met the infamous Tony Stark aka Iron-Man. He never wanted Harley to look that concerned or shocked ever again. He didn’t like to think too deeply about that whole thing anyways, after realizing that, that had confirmed that Spider-Man clearly had some kind of memory or dissociation problem.
He couldn't forget the way Bucky reacted towards him during that whole mission, either. At the time Spider-Man had been so panicked he didn’t have time to think through all those interactions. However now, he couldn’t help but to feel deeply embarrassed and ashamed.
Harley was passed out on the couch. The TV still loudly blaring some movie and a faint lamp illuminating from the corner of a side table.
If this had been any other situation, Spider-Man would’ve taken the time to bask in watching Harley lay there. His soft snores from a half opened mouth. Dried drool down his chin and even crusted a bit into the blanket on top of his chest. It was really cute.
Spider-Man shook his head. Trying to clear his thoughts. Hoping to rid himself of the thrumming anxiety in his veins. Rid of the headache that was
pounding at the base of his skull. Like he had somehow managed to throw his neck out.
His leg had already subconsciously started bouncing and his fingers found there way to his frayed glove. No matter how many times he tried to sew it back, he found himself breaking the same thread open again and again.
He could do this. He could tell Harley…well…maybe not tell Harley...everything. Just enough to be believable, but not of personal concern. Now that he stood here the shame and panic burned through him. There was no way he could look Harley in the eye and tell him what he couldn’t even accurately recall doing to himself.
How utterly pathetic and embarrassing for the superhero who literally had been gifted the key to the city. The Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man.
He cleared his throat and felt the way it cracked as words tumbled out of his mouth. “-Harley…” the movie characters banter the only other noise filling the room. “Hey…um…Harley..I-I-“ Spider-Man’s voice kept failing him.
The king of telling jokes in high stress situations and here he was being rendered speechless.
He took a shaky step closer to the couch. Reaching his tremor filled hand out to graze at Harley’s shoulder. But before he could reach, icy blue eyes snapped open. And the southern brat had thrown himself backwards into the couch with a large gasp.
Spider-Man realized he probably should’ve thought this whole thing through a bit more.
“…Spidey?” A yawn formed around the words that came out in a sleepy groan. “What are you doing here? What time iss it?”
Spider-Man faultered. What was he supposed to do now? How could he explain this? Should he even say anything at all? Pretend everything was actually fine? He just decided to make an impromptu appearance at two thirty in the morning. That was believable, right?
“-there’s little blood stains all over your suit, but I can’t see where it’s coming, where are you injured? I can get my first aid kit, is this why…you came here? What happened on patrol? I thought you-“
“-Man..”
“Darl-“
“Spider-“
“Sugar..?” Spider-Man gasped a deep breath in and it shuttered on the exhale. Only moments ago he was concocting the perfect lie in his head. He had a fantastic story of what had happened on a fantastical patrol. His only concern being that Harley could recognize the difference between self-harm and someone else cutting you. But maybe he could get lucky and Harley wouldn’t look too deeply.
“I-“ Spider-Man felt dizzy all of the sudden. When did the room suddenly become ten degrees hotter?
“-‘re hyperventilating that’s what’s causing the dizziness. You need to-“
The voice washed out again. Wait, how did Harley know he was dizzy? Did Harley have some kind of mind reading ability that he’d been keeping secret?
Oh God-how many things has he thought about Harley that Harley heard? He was going to explode with fear and sudden desperate embarrassment.
He felt more than saw his knees touch the ground as arms pulled the rest of his body upwards, stopping his masked face from colliding with the navy blue rug on the living room floor.
He found himself blinking back dots from his vision. What was going on with him? Why couldn’t he-he couldn’t breathe. He had never felt this way before in his life. Why couldn’t he breathe? Is this what Harley had said before? The hyperventilating thing?
“Sugar, look at me.” He was guided backwards against a chest. His face tilted upward to connect with a face looking down on him, as the back of his landed softly next to a heartbeat. Pretty. Not that now was the time to be having that thought.
“Hey easy-“ a hand removed his gloved hand from digging into his chest. When had he started to do that? “You’re having a panic attack.” A what?
He watched Harley’s mouth contort as he took an exaggerated breath-held it-before slowly letting it out. The air blowing through Spider-Man’s masked face. A hand wrapped around his wrist, a faint rhythm tapping against his thundering pulse. He found himself trying to follow it.
“There you go-“
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
“Easy, try again-“
His fingers still trembled even as he entered a more relaxed state. Found himself falling deeper into Harley’s chest. His head still hurt and his heart still raced. But he could finally breathe again.
“You with me?” Harley’s hand was no longer tapping, but still lightly held his wrist. Spider-Man found himself not wanting Harley to let go. The touch was comfortable and eased a deep ache inside of him.
“-eah.” Spider-Man’s voice cracked around the word. His throat felt dry and his eyes stung. Had he been crying too? He could feel the crustiness in his eyes and the dampness of his mask. His eyelash’s sticking together with each blink.
Harley’s eyebrows were furrowed deeply and his face was pale. The corner of his eyes creased and his lips were pursed. Like Harley was trying to solve some puzzle, but was missing too many pieces.
“Can I lift your mask up a bit? It’ll help you breathe better.” Spider-Man found himself nodding his head before the words were finished. He never trusted anyone before. Especially not to touch his mask. But things with Harley were different. Fingers gently grasped the bottom of his mask. Slowly rolling it up past his throat. Landing above his nose, but still keeping the upper part of his face hidden.
Harley was right. The claustrophobic feeling considerably lessened with nothing over his mouth. It felt easier to breathe in the air around them. He felt himself relaxing deeper into Harley’s chest with slow breaths.
“Are you hurt?” Spider-Man’s breath hitched once more. “Easy Sugar, slow.” He listened. Closing his eyes and taking another deep breath in. He nodded tightly with the exhale. Hoping Harley would understand where words were now failing him.
Thankfully Harley did. “Okay okay, I got you. I got you. Just keep breathing. We’re just gonna sit here for a second, okay? Then I’ll get my first aid kit and we can patch you up, okay?”
Spider-Man nodded again. The fear spiked at the thought of Harley patching him up, but he found himself still listening. Still relaxing into him. Was he terrified? Of course, but he wasn’t alone anymore. He had Harley and that brought a weird sense of safety. Blanketing the panic and pain. Dulling his senses.
“Do you think you can stand?” Could he? Stand? His limbs felt shaky and like he was wading through quick sand. His arms ached mercilessly. He blinked and forced himself to move. Harley adjusted with him. An arm wrapping around his waist. His knees shook violently as he stood. “Harley-“ The panic was rising again.
“Easy, I got you, sugar. I got you.” Spider-Man nodded with another exhale. He could do this. They walked slowly. Slower than Spider-Man liked. But with each step his legs shook violently. Like a baby fawn learning to walk for the first time. What was wrong with him?
Harley settled him gently against the closed toilet. His back resting against the porcelain. Harley reached under the sink. Pulling the cabinet doors open. His movements were soft and deliberate. As if he was trying to avoid triggering him further into his panic.
He crouched in front of Spider-Man. Laying the kit on the ground between them. Opening it softly before making eye contact with him again. Harley was studying him. The crease in his eyebrows had yet to leave.
Spider-Man knew what was coming next and he wasn’t ready. His leg was bouncing up and down repeatedly. His hands itched to tear at the fray in his glove. Despite the protest of moving his arms anymore tonight.
Harley seemed to have come to a decision. “Can I remove the suit?” Spider-Man hesitated. His hand digging into his shaking leg. Attempting to still it. Only making it bounce harder. He opened his mouth, but he couldn’t find the words. So instead he nodded once again.
Harley reached over slowly. Keeping his movements obvious as if afraid to catch Spider-Man off guard. He couldn’t recall a time in his life where anyone had been so gentle with him. Not that, that was saying much. Since Spider-Man clearly had memory problems.
The suit rolled down his chest slowly. Dipping past his shoulders. Creasing into his elbows. All it would take was just one more tug and- “Harley.” The words choked out of him and oh god- was he crying again?
Harley paused, seeming to sense Spider-Man’s embarrassing head towards another freak out. His hands stopped at his elbows. His hands drifted back up rubbing soft circles into his upper limbs. The occasional squeeze. It was grounding. Which Spider-Man needed since he felt like he was about to fly away without the use of his own webs.
“Just tell me when you’re ready, okay? We can sit here as long as you need.” The words spurred a deep sob out of Spider-Man’s chest. His breath hitched and shuddered. How was he supposed to do this? Spider-Man still wasn’t even sure if he should tell the truth. There was an easy lie resting at the tip of his tongue. Yet it felt entirely impossible to get it out.
Before he knew it, his sobs had taken over. He found himself hunching forward. Why couldn’t he stop crying? It was incredibly embarrassing. He was Spider-Man and here he was crying on a toilet seat in a college kid’s bathroom.
“It’s okay, it’s okay. Let it out. You’re good. I got you.” What had Spider-Man done to deserve such kindness? He wasn’t sure.
“Harley I-I…I can’t…I don’t…I-“ he stumbled incoherently over his sobs to the point he wasn’t even sure himself what he was trying to say.
“Shh…hey it’s okay…you don’t have to talk, okay? Just let me help you.” Help? Spider-Man didn’t get help. He was the one helping others. The thought should’ve offended him. Made him angry. But instead he felt himself letting go. Could it be that easy? Could he let someone else take over? He was so so so tired. He couldn’t do this alone anymore.
With another shuddering sob he frantically nodded his head up and down. Giving Harley confirmation. His body tensed as Harley’s hands found their way back to his suit sleeves still creased into his elbows. Still hiding the damage further down.
Harley’s touch was slow and gentle. It only served to make him shake and sob harder. “Easy sugar, take another breath for me.” Spider-Man did his best to listen. His throat was really starting to hurt.
Harley’s hands only paused for a second when the damage on his forearms began to shine. Criss-crossed cuts branded his bright pink skin. Some of the cuts were still sluggishly bleeding. Harley tensed and took a sharp breath in, but didn’t say a word. Instead just working the rest of the suit down past his fingers and then stomach. The top of his suit fell to rest on his legs. The sleeves falling haphazardly around him.
Harley remained calm reaching into the kit. He dabbed lightly at his arms with a wet rag. Cleaning the dried blood and sticky mess of his arms. It stung, but Spider-Man found himself calming. His cries slowed and the hitching lessened.
Harley pulled a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide and thin cotton pads. Proceeding to pour the clear liquid onto the pads. “This isn’t gonna feel…uh…nice.” Harley warned before moving to dab the pads over his cuts.
He was right, of course. It didn’t feel nice at all. It burned. The stinging feeling magnified as little white bubbles spread across his skin. The solution worked quickly to disinfect the cuts.
The silence as Harley worked should’ve been suffocating. Should’ve had Spider-Man rambling. Instead he found himself relaxing once again. At some point his shaking lessened and his leg stopped bouncing. He watched Harley’s face as the man wrapped his forearms with white gauze. Faint spots of red still seeped into the white. But it was still doing its job. It was enough. It was more than enough.
Harley finished wrapping his arms and began to clean the space around them. Closing the kit and tossing blood soaked pads into the trash can. Harley was beautiful. Even like this with blonde hair that clearly needed to be brushed. And baggy sleep clothes with a funny science joke across the shirt. It read ‘Know any good chemistry jokes? NaBrO’. The shame burned in him again. He had woken Harley up and then proceeded to be a giant panicky mess. Forcing Harley to deal with the fall out and be the level headed one.
The silence continued to fill the space as Harley guided Spider-Man back into the living room. Leaving him on the couch and disappearing into the kitchen. The TV was still running, but significantly quieter. Spider-Man didn’t recall seeing Harley lower it in his panic.
Minutes later Harley returned with two mugs of hot chocolate. A nice heap of cinnamon sprinkled on top. He guided it gently into Spider-Man’s uncovered hands before sliding next to him on the couch. Harley didn’t leave any space between them. Which he was incredibly thankful for. Their legs touched lightly as they sat criss-crossed. The hot chocolate was warm. Not as warm as Harley holding his wrist, but still comforting.
His face felt sticky underneath his half rolled up mask. The tears long since dried. His nose felt slightly stuffed and the headache had only increased ten fold.
Harley appeared to be contemplating what to say next as he sipped his drink. Eyebrows furrowing once again. Spider-Man shifted carefully, as to not spill his drink, but the sudden tension had him unable to sit still. “You’re doing that thing again.” He mumbled. The first complete sentence Spider-Man had managed since stumbling into Harley’s apartment.
Harley lowered his mug “What thing?” he hummed out. Spider-Man shifted again. “The thinking thing with your eyebrows.” Spider-Man explained.
“I think often, Sugar.” Harley replied cheekily. “Yeah, but you’re doing it aggressively.” Spider-Man shot back. That seemed to almost get a smile out of Harley. Almost.
Harley played with the handle of his mug not looking at Spider-Man. “Can I ask you something?” He felt himself stiffen considerably. The panic from before threatened him. And this time with a bonus feeling of nausea. “You technically just did.” Spider-Man attempted to be humorous. Harley didn’t laugh. He was staring at Spider-Man’s bandaged arms.
“The cuts…” Harley started in a gentle whisper. His hands no longer played with his mug.
“Which ones?” The words slipped from his mouth uncontrollably. Stupid. So, so stupid. Why did he say that? He felt Harley stiffen across from him and dropped his gaze to stare into his hot cocoa. Wishing the brown liquid would open up and swallow him whole.
Harley was careful with his next words. “The ones I just bandaged.” Yeah, those ones. What else would Harley bring talking about? “Oh, right…Yeah…those ones.” Spider-Man whispered back. God he could feel the comforting liquid crawling back up. It wasn’t as comforting coming back up. He swallowed roughly and refused to look back at Harley. The silence was suffocating.
Despite the threat of throwing up, he found himself drinking from the mug again. One sip. Then another. As if he could hide behind the liquid. Too bad Harley was too smart to let him get away with it.
“They weren’t from patrol.” It wasn’t a question. Spider-Man stopped mid-sip and lowered the mug back down. “No.” His voice sounded smaller than ever before.
“You did it yourself.” Again it wasn’t stated as a question. But god did Spider-Man want to argue it anyway. He didn’t. He wouldn’t. He could deny it, but the truth was starting both of them in the face with tightly wrapped white gauze.
“I..” Harley didn’t rush him. Spider-Man studied his bandaged arms. Arms he didn’t remember hurting. “I don’t know.” It was now Harley’s turn to shift on the couch.
“What do you mean?” Halrey pressed in. Spider-Man swallowed. Was he going to be sick after all? “I don’t…” the room suddenly felt really small. Were the walls closing in on them? “..remember.” The last word came out in a choked whisper.
He reached over to set the mug on the coffee table. His hands were shaking again and he couldn’t bear spilling on Harley’s couch. As if he hadn’t done enough tonight.
Harley went still and Spider-Man hated it. He needed him to say something. Anything. Instead, Harley’s expression shifted. And for the first time, Spider-Man felt like he couldn’t read him. Was it concern? Fear? Disgust? He wasn’t sure.
“How much do you remember?” His stomach lurched. “Harley-“ but he was cut off before he could continue. “How much?”
Harley didn’t seem angry. Which someone had made Spider-Man feel worse. “I don’t know.”
Harley exhaled slowly through his nose. Hands tightened around his mug.
“Okay-“
“I’m fine.” Spider-Man wasn’t even sure what had prompted him to blurt that out.
“I know-“ Once again Spider-Man found himself cutting Harley off. “You’re doing the face.”
Harley’s eyebrows furrowed deeper. “What face?”
“The concerned one.” Spider-Man mumbled.
“I am concerned.” And oof, wasn’t that a bowl of worms to hear. God his stomach was cramping.
“Don’t be.” Spider-Man wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince Harley or himself.
“That’s not really how it works, sugar.” Harley paused looking into his mug as Spider-Man felt himself shrinking deeper into the couch.
“When did you become aware?” He didn’t answer. Instead, finding himself playing with the edge of the bandage on his right wrist.
“Spider-Man.” No sugar. That stung.
“I don’t know!” The words came out louder than he had intended. Harley’s eyes snapped up. Spider-Man looked away immediately. Glaring into the rug he had almost planted into earlier. He took a deep breath in and let it out. “I don’t know.” He repeated, but quieter. “What do you want me to say?”
“I’m not looking for a right answer. Just the truth, darling.”
“Well, I don’t have an answer, okay!?” His breath hitched and his fingers caught beneath the edge of the bandage.
Pick.
Pull.
Release.
Repeat.
“I don’t know what happened. I don’t know where these came from. I don’t know anything before deciding to come here. I don’t know why I was crying. I don’t know why my head feels like somebody took a fucking hammer to it. I don’t-“ And there he went. Crying again. Two for two today, huh, Spider-Man? Awesome.
He ducked his head, quickly wiping at his face. Trying to prevent the tears from falling past the edge of his mask. “I’m sorry…” Why couldn’t he stop crying? This was incredibly unbecoming of a literal superhero.
Harley shifted closer to him. “Why the apology?”
“All of this.” Spider-Man gestured vaguely at himself in defeat. Harley looked even more concerned, if that was possible. “I just-“ His fingers returned to the bandage. Picking once again. “I was scared, and I didn’t know what to do, and before I realized it, I was already coming here.” Harley was quiet as if he sensed that Spider-Man wasn’t finished.
“I don’t even remember really deciding to come here.” That sounded bad. Really bad. “I just knew where I was going, obviously. I just…I think…I mean-“ The words tangled within themselves and he picked hard at the bandage. “I don’t know.” There it was again. Spider-Man favorite fucking sentence of the night.
Harley hummed softly. Clearly deep in thought. Spider-Man could feel the words vomiting out of him before he could help it. “That sounded weird, didn’t it?”
“No.”
“It did.” Spider-Man insisted. “Like stalker weird. Which in my defense-“
“Darling-“
“-know where you live, so technically-“
“Spider-Man.”
His mouth clicked shut on its own accord. Way to go, Spider-Man. Just ruining everything in his path. Maybe Jameson had a point.
“You were scared.” Harley murmured. He couldn’t bear to look at him. “Yeah.”
“And you came here.” A tiny shrug.
“Apparently.” Spider-Man felt his own eyes rolling at the statement. Harley swallowed. “Then some part of you knew what you were doing.”
Spider-Man raised his head, finally locked eyes with Harley again. Harley offered him a small smile. No teeth. Nothing like Harley’s usual grin. “You came somewhere you felt safe.” His voice was soft, reassuring. “And I’m glad you did.” Spider-Man could feel the but coming. It hung between them, unspoken. So Spider-Man bit the bullet, metaphorically this time.
“But..?” Harley’s attempt at a smile vanished. There it was. His stomach twisted. Once again begging the question: would he throw up tonight? The jury was still out on that verdict.
Harley reached over and grabbed his hand. Stopping him from picking under the bandage. His hand was solid and warm. “I’m worried about you.” Spider-Man scoffed.
“I’m Spider-Man. I’m fine.” Harley’s thumb brushed softly against his knuckles. Spider-Man found himself letting go of tension he didn’t even know he was holding. “I know you’re Spider-Man.”
“Great, glad we cleared that up.” Dammit, Spider-Man. Really? That’s what you say?
“And I know you’re not fine.”
Spider-Man’s jaw tightened again. The urge to argue returned immediately. “You don’t know that.”
Harley paused before continuing his soft ministrations over Spider-Man’s knuckles. “I just spent the past thirty minutes cleaning blood off you.”
Why couldn’t he just give in? “I’ve had worse.” Harley hummed. “Doesn’t make this okay though, does it?” Spider-Man huffed. “Did I say it did?”
Harley gave a small grimace. “You just said you’re fine.” And God, did Spider-Man want to give in. He didn’t.
“I am.” He whispered. Dropping his gaze to stare at Harley’s smooth fingers working along his hand.
Harley squeezed his hand lightly. “You don’t remember hurting yourself, sugar. You don’t remember what happened before coming here. You told me yourself that you were scared.”
Spider-Man just couldn’t seem to allow his defenses to drop. “People get scared.” He shrugged.
“They do, and I know that you’re used to handling things by yourself. Used to being the hero.” Harley’s hand stilled, just holding him now. “But you shouldn’t have to. And I’m sorry that you have for so long.”
Spider-Man didn’t know what to do with that. His chest tightened. And not in the way it did when he broke a couple ribs. Something deeper. Something he couldn’t name. So, he stared at their interlocked hands and searched. For the right thing to say. Maybe something sarcastic? Nothing came.
“What if I don’t know how?” The words cracked in the middle.
Harley’s eyebrows furrowed for the millionth time that night. “How to what?”
His voice was barely hanging on. “Not to do it alone.” Oh. He was crying. Three for three. Was he going to have to start keeping score?
Harley was silent for so long that Spider-Man began to regret saying those words out loud.
“Okay.” Spider-man blinked with a jolt. Okay? “That’s it?” Oh. He spoke out loud again.
Harley’s lips twitched upwards for just a moment. “Would you prefer something more profound?”
Spider-Man sniffled loudly and pathetically. “Maybe…yeah.” He croaked.
Harley hummed as if he was actually considering it. “I’ve got nothing.”
Spider-Man snorted out a small, wet laugh. In spite of the tears still trickling down his face. But Harley smiled. A real, teeth-and all-smile.
“There he is.”
Spider-Man rolled his eyes. “You’re terrible at this.” He choked out.
Harley laughed. “Who said I was good?”
Spider-Man huffed in fake annoyance. “You usually are.”
“Well now you’re just putting pressure on me.” Harley squeezed his hand again. When had they become so close? He could feel Harley’s breath against his cheek.
“But I meant what I said. You’re not alone anymore.”
Another soft cry hiccuped from his lips. God, this was so embarrassing. Yet somehow, it was everything he had secretly craved over the past year.
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
For just a few minutes there was only the sound of their soft breaths landing against each other. Spider-Man couldn’t help but stare at Harley’s lips. They were soft. Way too soft. Could this be enough?
Harley hesitated before shifting the mug in his other hand toward the coffee table. Spider-Man had to hold back another wet laugh at the way Harley struggled to place the mug without letting go of his hand.
“But…” Spider-Man’s eyes instantly squeezed shut. But? But what? Of fucking course there was another but, and-
A quiet laugh escaped Harley “Don’t start.”
“I didn’t even say anything.”
“Your face did.” Harley paid attention to his face? Well, the parts of it Harley could see. Did he think about Spider-Man’s features the way Spider-Man thought about his?
“You can’t even see my face.” Spider-Man attempted to argue.
“I can see enough of it.” Harley chuckled. Was it his imagination, or were they even closer now? And when had Harley’s other hand started drawing circles against his back? When had Spider-Man started hunching further toward him?
Spider-Man opened his eyes coming face-to-face with Harley’s chest. “I meant what I said about you not doing this alone, sugar.”
“I know.” When had he started whispering again?
“And I meant every word of what I said.” Spider-Man sighed. “What are you saying, Harls?”
Harley squeezed his hand again. “It means I want to help you.”
“You are.” Spider-Man’s stomach was twisting again. He was really losing the battle against the hot chocolate, huh?
“I know.” Harley whispered back.
“Then what’s the issue?” Spider-Man meant for it to come out harshly, instead it came out meek.
“There ain’t an issue. I’m not saying it right, I guess.” Harley exhaled roughly. Spider-Man couldn’t make his jaw move.
“I…” his thumb resumed brushing his knuckles once again. “I’m not sure that, I’m enough help right now.”
Something deep inside of Spider-Man lurched and he outwardly recoiled before he could stop himself. Head snapping up as his body pulled away from Harley. Their intertwined hands, the only thing keeping him from fleeing entirely. Harley must have been able to read Spider-Man better than he thought.
“Wait, sugar. No. Don’t-don’t go there.”
“Where?” His voice cracked.
“Wherever you just went inside that head of yours.” Harley squeezed his hand again. His other hand rested limply against Spider-Man’s now straightened back. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not true. I don’t mean it like that.” Harley shook his head. “You’re not too much. This isn’t too much.”
“Then what are you saying?” Spider-Man wanted to sound tough, but he knew he didn’t.
“I’m saying that I’m nineteen.” Okay. Not exactly what he had expected Harley to say. “I can patch you up, I can be here, and I can give you shitty hot cocoa-“ Spider-Man smirked.
“Not shitty.” Why were his cheeks heating up? Thankfully, that seemed to earn a small smile from Harley. However, it disappeared just as quickly.
“But I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about you showing up here and not being able to remember why. What if this happens again? Or what if-what if something worse happens?”
Spider-Man’s smirk dropped. He hadn’t actually considered that yet. “Nothing worse is gonna happen.” The hot chocolate burned in the back of his throat and bobbed while he swallowed.
“You don’t know that.” Harley was right. He didn’t. He hated it. Hated how right Harley was. “What if you hadn’t come here tonight?” Spider-Man’s hand twitched in Harley’s.
“But I did.”
“I know.”
“Right so-“
“But what about next time?” It wasn’t a question. It was a reality. A possibility. A very, very likely possibility.
“I can’t sit here and act like I can fix you. Or like I know what I’m doing because I can put a bandage on.”
“You’re more than just a bandage.”
“I know, sugar.” Harley sighed. His limp hand making circles again. Almost unconsciously. “Which is why I need to do more.”
“You’re doing plenty.” Spider-Man tried in a weak voice.
“No, not enough.” Spider-Man’s stomach clenched again and Harley caught it immediately. “Not because you’re too much. Don’t start going there again.” Harley used the hand on his back to push Spider-Man close to him again. Maybe Harley really could read his face.
Spider-Man hesitated “So…we…we figure it out…together?” He whispered the final word and let himself hunch back into Harley. We, right? That’s what Harley was offering him. An escape from the lone superhero life. A break. We. “Yeah.” Harley whispered against his ear, it sent a shiver down his spine. “We do.”
The tension that had built back up finally deflated, like he was becoming a flattened balloon. His arms still ached. His head still pounded. He was tired. God, was he tired.
“But I think…” Harley was hesitant again. “Part of maybe figuring it out is knowing when we need someone else too.”
Spider-Man went still against Harley. Someone else? He could feel the exhaustion creeping up on him. His brain sluggishly turned over the words. “But…” He hated how childlike he sounded. “You said we.”
“I did.”
“Then…why? Why would we need…” The words died on his lips. Spider-Man was a lot of things. But he wasn’t dumb. Yet this? He couldn’t understand what Harley was saying. Harley was quiet.
Spider-Man begrudgingly lifted his head, which at some point had fallen to rest against Harley’s chest. “Harls…?”
Harley licked his lips, nervously. “I told you that those guys gave me their numbers, right?”
Oh.
The exhaustion that had him resting against Harley’s chest disappeared beneath a sudden buzz of adrenaline.
“No.”