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"We don't have time for a dog."
"We're not getting a cat."
Peter sounds so petulant in his response that Harry doesn't think he can continue the argument. It won't be the first time it gets put on the back burner. Since deciding they should get an animal, together, they have done nothing but argue the point of cat versus dog. Nineteen times, to be exact. Twenty if you were to count the one, brief sentence Peter mentioned during sex before Harry pinched his nipple.
"I don't know why you say it like that. Cats are great. A cat won't piss on the floor because you forgot to take it out," Harry says with a sweet smile. He has a point, and he knows it.
"We're not-" Peter stops abruptly. He curses under his breath and reaches for his bag.
"Gotta go."
Peter kisses him on the cheek and is gone before Harry can even open his mouth.
Bastard.
-*-
"What about both?" Peter asks out of the blue, drawing Harry's attention from his tablet.
"What?"
"A cat and a dog," Peter clarifies.
They can't agree. Peter doesn't think they will ever agree. There's not any other good way to compromise. They can't get a half-cat, half-dog. (He tries not to laugh at the thought and wonders if Harry would get the reference.)
Harry's quiet for a long moment before he nods.
"Yeah, okay."
Just like that, they both go back to what they were doing, or they pretend to. Harry immediately pulls up the local shelter's page. Peter does the same.
-*-
Peter bites his lip as he looks at the dog curled up on their bed. He and Harry had plans to go to the shelter together. One animal at a time, but they still wanted to be involved in the whole process of getting the other's animal.
Those plans were all but forgotten when Peter, still in his Spider-Man costume, ran into a too thin, black and white ball of matted fur. She had looked so miserable, and her leg had been- still is- hurt.
How could he walk away?
He had changed there in the alley and picked her up. The vet had put her leg in a cast and promised it would heal. There might still be a slight limp. Only time would tell. He gave Peter some sort of special dog food to help her get back to a proper diet.
Peter hasn't really gotten much else. He has a make shift water bowl on the floor, next to her food. He still needs to buy her toys and a bed, and he has to figure out how to tell Harry.
"And I need a name for you," he says and reaches out to brush his fingers through her fur. She's some sort of Border Collie mix with brown eyes and a goofy smile, despite the shape she's in.
"Pete?"
Peter groans.
"Out of time," he tells the dog before looking up toward the door way. "Bedroom!"
Harry doesn't respond. Peter can hear him padding through the apartment until Harry stops short in the door way. He can see the gears in Harry's head turning, but Harry says nothing.
"I found her," Peter supplies.
Harry nods after a moment. He looks between Peter and the dog for a moment. She's thin, and she looks so frail.
"Is she... okay?"
"She will be."
"Okay," Harry moves over to the bed and holds his hand out. He's never had a dog, but he's seen movies and heard people say something about letting a dog sniff your hand before petting them.
Peter watches the dog lick Harry. The look of horror that the small lick earns her is enough to have Peter clutching his sides and laughing until he can't breathe. He can hear Harry mutter something under his breath as he leaves, but he's laughing too hard to catch the words.
-*-
The dog somehow earns the name 'Lucy'. Peter isn't really sure how it happened, but he likes it.
Harry stays home with her. He claims there isn’t much going on at OSCORP anyways. (Peter cracks a joke about Harry spending more time in the elevators than actually working.
Somehow he loses his camera between then and the next morning before a six o’clock shoot.)
Taking care of Lucy is easy enough. It’s about as easy as taking care of Peter.
He feeds her at the three designated times a day. He has alarms on his phone so he won’t forget. He doesn’t. He refills her water bowl whenever she needs it. In between, they spend time curled up on the couch.
Lucy attaches herself to his side. He can’t help but think she’s like him in a way. Previously alone and hurting, physically and mentally, but she’s a lot like Peter too. Hyper. She makes him play tug with her or throw her ball around.
He can’t help the smile that spreads across his face every time she loses track of the ball and gives him a confused look. That reminds him of Peter too. Now if only he could teach her to pout.
-*-
Lucy starts putting on weight after a week. She’s already starting to look healthier. Her eyes don’t look glossed over, and her leg doesn’t seem to hold her back at all. She’s more energetic and seems to be happy to claim the entire apartment as her own.
Especially Harry’s side of the bed.
Harry protests, but he always ends up curled up, squished between Lucy and Peter at the end of the day. Peter can’t imagine the extra warmth is a real complaining point. Harry’s always cold.
Besides, it’s Harry’s own fault that Lucy’s so attached to him.
(Peter’s only slightly jealous.)
-*-
Socks happens because Harry has the least imaginative brain in existence. The name, not the cat.
Peter tries to argue that ‘Socks’ really isn’t an appropriate name for a cat owned by two New Yorkers. Harry insists on it anyways because all four of the kitten’s paws are white, while the rest of him is mostly black.
Socks isn’t picked up at the shelter either. They discover him at the vet’s office when taking Lucy in for a follow up of her leg.
From what the woman that had brought Socks in told the vet, his mother and siblings had been hit by a car. Somehow he had been spared.
They’d fallen in love instantly.
-*-
Lucy and Socks get along well. Lucy constantly curls herself around the small kitten. It’s not an uncommon sight for Harry or Peter to find them cuddling on the end of the bed or on the couch.
Socks follows Lucy around everywhere, and they play together. Lucy nips Socks’ tail to get him to play chase. Socks chews on her ears for the same effect.
-*-
Harry’s having a bad day when he curls up on the couch with shoes still on. Absolutely everything that could go wrong, has, and he’s torn between hitting something really hard and crying.
Lucy jumps up on the couch and curls up by his head. Her head rests against his neck.
For a second, Harry wants to push her away or get up and walk off, but he reaches a hand up and brushes his fingers through her fur instead. He closes his eyes and relaxes a bit.
So maybe the day isn’t that bad.
-*-
Peter groans. He’s exhausted. Every part of him aches. He can’t even be bothered to strip, much less change into street clothes.
He falls onto the couch and lies there in a mess of bruises and limbs.
A sudden, light weight lands on his chest, startling him slightly. He reaches a hand up, but he stops when he realizes the weight is Socks.
He rests a hand gently on the little kitten and closes his eyes. He brushes his thumb over Sock’s fur as he drifts off. He can hear the loud, happy purring coming from the kitten, and it only helps him relax more.