Chapter Text
Days at the hospital were hectic from morning until noon until midnight, and then all over again. There was always someone new coming in, someone finally leaving after days or weeks of being an inpatient, and someone checking out, well, for good. They were everyday occurrences, things Peter had gotten used to after a couple of months interning at the hospital. And as he walked into St. June’s, he could feel that day wouldn’t be any different.
The steady sound of phones ringing and the buzzing of conversations filled the air as he made his way into the lobby, toting his bag in one hand and coffee in the other. His hair was a mess sticking out every which way and his glasses were threatening to fall off the tip of his nose; but, if the dark circles under his eyes were any indication, he was too tired to actually care. He made his way toward the front desk where he saw his Aunt May typing away at the computer with one hand and holding the phone to her ear with the other. He cleared his throat to get her attention and she looked up at him giving him a quick smile and motioning for him to wait before returning to her conversation.
“Yes. No. Yes, if you-. Mrs. Jameson, we have him scheduled for surgery tomorrow. Yes, alright. Have a nice day.” She hung up with a little more force than necessary and turned her attention to Peter who looked as if he could fall over at any moment. “Peter, you look terrible!”
Her nephew shrugged as if she had stated a simple fact. Like, cheetahs had spots, the winter Olympics came every two years, and Peter Parker only ever slept 3 hours a day. “Thanks, Aunt May. I got you coffee.”
She immediately perked up at the mention of caffeine and thanked him quickly as he handed it to her. “Thank you, darling.”
“Hard day at work?” It was only 10 o’clock in the morning, but that didn’t stop people from giving themselves major injuries right after stepping out of bed. Peter would know.
“Unbelievably annoying. Mm, I think Gwen Stacey wanted to see you in pediatrics.” He nodded patting the bag he had hanging from his shoulder.
“Yeah, she called. I’ve got new toys for them.” His aunt tuted at him but offered him a sweet smile.
“Peter, you don’t have to keep buying the kids new stuff.”
“I want to, it’s okay.” He dismissed her checking his watch for the time and letting out a quick huff when he saw that he was running late. “I gotta go. See you at home.”
He quickly made his way down the lengthy hallway, avoiding bustling nurses and mothers in wheelchairs holding their screeching babies. Quick reflexes came in handy when you spent half your time at the hospital. Though sometimes, accidents were unavoidable. No matter what powers you may or may not possess.
A man in an oversized trench coat chose that moment to come rushing around the corner and bumped right into Peter knocking them both off balance and landing him pinned down under the other man’s body. It took a few seconds for Peter to orient himself, and when he did he could feel the other man's heart beating rapidly in his chest and could feel the puffs of air escaping his mouth and gracing the nape of his neck. He looked up, his own breath catching a bit when he saw bright blue eyes staring back at him in disbelief. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot and his face was almost yellowish in the poor lighting. But his skin looked like marble, smoothed over and refined. Peter contemplated bringing up a hand to touch the strangers face, to see if it really was as cold as the tone of his skin suggested. Instead, the stranger huffed planting his hands on either side of Peter to try and push himself up.
“Hey, let me help you.” The blond haired stranger continued struggling to regain his balance as Peter reached for his arm.
“No. It's fine.” Peter ignored him and pulled them both up in one swift motion. This seemed to startle the man out of whatever daze he'd been in as he immediately straightened up and pushed Peter away. “Leave me alone!”
Peter raised his hands defensively muttering a 'sorry man's and turned to walk the other way when he heard Dr. Mallory calling down the hall.
“Mr. Osborn! Get back in your room!” If looks could kill, he was pretty sure that ‘Mr. Osborn’ would’ve just murdered him with the glare he was giving him that just screamed 'this is all your fault'.
“Next time, don’t get in my way," Mr. Osborn muttered wrapping the trench coat tighter around himself before sluggishly moving towards Dr. Mallory who looked as if she were at the end of her rope. And before his brain could get caught up in how small the man's body looked in that trench coat, he opted to make his way towards pediatrics again.
Stepping into the room, he stopped to take in the familiar brightness of his surroundings. There were young boys and girls, most of who were, fortunately, growing back their hair and on the road to recovery, stumbling around the play area grinning and giggling.
Hope. It was an infectious and dangerous idea at a hospital, but it was all any of them had. It was what Peter fought for.
The thought made him smile as he took in the hope that surrounded him. He turned to look in the other direction and found Gwen who was helping one of the boys adjust his crutches.
“Okay David, you’re doing a great job! The surgery wasn’t that bad, was it?” The twelve year old boy in question shook his head elicting a smile from Gwen. “See, I told you. Now, you can go sit down and play with the other kids, but be careful with your leg.”
“Yes Miss Stacey!” Gwen brought up a hand to ruffle his hair, chuckling as David crinkled his nose at the not-so-welcome affection. He wriggled out from under her hand and clumsily shuffled over to the kids waiting for him at the Lego station.
“You know, that’s going to be Doctor Stacey soon,” Peter supplied as he made his way over to Gwen hoping she wouldn't notice his tardiness. The way her eyebrows quirked at the sound of his voice told him that, oh, she'd noticed. Before she could actually comment on the matter he handed (or maybe threw) her the bag he had been holding. Gwen caught it mildly startled and eyed the bag curiously as she pulled at the loose fabric.
“Why is it torn?” She observed pointing out the small rip in the side of the material. Peter craned his neck to get a better look at the apparent rip.
“Oh, some guy ran into me earlier and knocked us both over so, uh, it must of ripped from that.” He hadn’t noticed it before in his hurry to get to Gwen.
“What guy, do you know?” The spark of curiosity that caught in her eyes was not a good sign. Gwen and questions about things happening in his life were never a good combination.
“Dr. Mallory called him Mr. Osborn.” He regretted even answering when Gwen broke out into laughter at the mention of the man’s name which definitely made Peter a little uneasy. “What did I do?
“I think you managed to run down Harry Osborn. You know, the heir to Oscorp, that place I interned before coming to St. June’s. Really big in the science community. Multibillionaire organization. Ring any bells?” Peter physically blanched at the realization which only made her laugh that much harder. “Was he cute?”
“Gwen!” And there it was. Gwen's total inability to deal with the problem at hand and delve into the logistics of his personal love life.
“Well, was he?”
The answer was pretty obvious. “Yeah, okay! But he kinda has the power to end my career before it even starts!” He really wished she’d stop giggling.
"Isn't your dream to be some big shot photographer?"
"I might've wanted to do something science related, but I guess not anymore!"
“Relax, he’s not in charge yet. His dad’s still around. They say he's got non Hodgkin lymphoma, but, fortunately for him, it's not in the advanced stages yet. What did he say to you anyway when you guys fell?”
“Uh, nothin really. He freaked out when I helped him up.” Gwen snorted.
“Maybe you should take him out for an apology dinner.”
“Okay, that’s it Gwen.” She rolled her eyes at him, something that had become a bad habit for her whenever he was around. “What’s he in for anyway?”
“I don’t really know. I’m sure whatever it is it’ll end up in the tabloids by tomorrow.”
“Yeah, probably.” Peter suddenly had a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, a familiar one that meant trouble. “Hey, Gwen, I gotta go.”
“You better be back before two Peter!” She called after him as he made his way down the hallway. She opened the bag and watched as the Spider-Man figurines tumbled out into a pile on the floor. Within a split second, a mass of children swarmed around her, digging their way through the pile to find their favorite toy. Sometimes she wondered if Peter's acts were more egotistical than kind.
(x)
Peter Parker spent half his time helping people at St. June’s and the other half of the time helping people on the streets of New York. He liked to think it was his way of protecting New York City 24/7, even if it meant a minimum amount of sleep for him. He had just gotten done shutting down a car chase involving some Russian gangsters and hadn't left that fight unscathed. He could feel the bruises welting beneath his skin, choosing to ignore the pain in favor of continuing his patrol.
As he swung his way back towards the direction of the hospital, that nagging sense of danger appeared in his mind again. Looking down, he saw a body lying in the middle of oncoming traffic. Without hesitation, he redirected his path and swung himself over to the body just in time to rescue it from being crushed by an oncoming semi truck. He could feel the man regaining consciousness and squirming in his arms as he landed them safely on the side of the street. Whispers broke out from the crowd surrounding him and shouts of “It’s Spider-Man! Look!” could be heard all around them.
For the first time since he'd spotted the body on the road he took a look at the man in his arms to see who he had saved. Unmistakably bright blue eyes met his gaze, but instead this time with amusement rather than malice.
“I can’t believe it. Did Spider-Man just save me?” Harry chuckled, his lips settling on a sly smirk Peter couldn't help but feel graced his face far too often. The man looked different from when they had bumped into each other in the hospital. His skin looked much paler in the afternoon sun and he could properly see how thin he was even in his three piece suit, the trench coat now abandoned somewhere else.
“I saved you, yeah,” he answered after recollecting his thoughts. “Mind telling me what Harry Osborn was doing lying in the middle of the road?” Peter watched as Harry’s grin grew even wider. His stomach churned at the grin that held far too many teeth. Somehow he managed to act like the poster boy for confidence even while his body was visibly trembling.
“You know me? Alright, Spider-Man, I’m going to let you in on a little secret." The man, Harry, leaned in closer and whispered, rather loudly,” I’m sick, I faint, it happens. So thanks for saving me but I can make it from here.” Harry turned around and took a single step forward before his knees buckled beneath him and he fell into the hero’s arms. Peter pulled him up against his chest to keep him from falling and was met with a faint thrashing of limbs trying to break free.
Before Harry could protest his help, his eyes began to grow heavy and his body went limp in Peter’s arms. Peter secured his arm around the man’s waist and waved a last goodbye to the civilians gathering around them before heading out of the crowd and straight for St. June’s.
He listened to the steady rhythm of the man's heartbeat the entire way back.
(x)
The familiar beeping of a heart monitor had greeted Peter as he walked into Harry Osborn’s room for the fifth time since he’d carried him there. This time, he was awake and staring at the ceiling, humming a song that sounded vaguely familiar to him.
“Is that Ron Pope?”
Harry craned his neck to see who had walked into the room. Peter offered him a sheepish smile as Harry huffed at him, obviously recognizing him from their earlier meeting.
“Did you want to push me over again because, bad news, I’m already laying down,” Harry sneered carefully sitting himself up in the hospital bed. Peter could see him wince as he accidentally applied to much pressure to the hand that had the I.V. embedded into it.
“Here, I can-”
“No, I don’t need your help, really. What did you actually come here for?” That was a question Peter had been weighing in his mind ever since he made his first visit to Harry’s room. He honestly didn't have an answer to his question. It was one thing to come by once for decency's sake, but five times?
“To, uh, check on you because of earlier, and I heard Spider-Man brought you here,” He finished lamely coddling the camera that had found its place hanging around his neck as if he expected Harry to recognize him as the guy who takes pictures of Spider-Man. For a second Peter thought the man might dismiss him completely but instead he chuckled a bit, causing Peter's stomach to churn again.
“Yeah, weird right? Why would Spider-Man care about saving me when there are other things to do?”
“Maybe he just wants to help everyone equally, ya know?" I think Spider-Man represents hope-”
“Right, hope," Harry interrupted tightening his hold on the hospital sheets, his hands nearly indistinguishable against their overwhelming brightness. "If he really wanted to help me he’d just drop me off in front of my house or something. Not back in this diseased dump.”
“He’s just-”
“Why are you defending him?” Peter blinked at him starting a few half hearted sentences before settling on silence. He could feel something in Harry break as his shoulders tightened and his knuckles turned red against the white sheets. “I’m dying faster than my own father at this point! Don’t talk to me about hope!” Harry was looking at him now, an intensity burning in his eyes that wasn't there before. Even though Peter was the hero in the room, had saved so many lives, at that moment, Harry made him feel small.
“What is it? What do you have?”
He didn’t miss a beat.
“Non Hodgkin Lymphoma, stage 3.”
Harry's voice remained steady as he recalled his prognosis with the confidence of someone who knew what was coming and had accepted it. Except for the fact that everything about Harry screamed fighter. He couldn't see this man giving up.
“How long?” He knew these were probably some pretty personal questions but, Peter never really was skilled in the art of keeping his mouth shut. To his surprise, Harry answered him again.
“About six months is their best guess.” It was undeniably short, but longer than some people in his position. “I have all the money in the world and no one can cure me.” He quipped, the tone of his voice oozing with bitterness.
“I’m sorry.”
“Being sorry doesn’t help.” Peter swallowed absently nodding at his comment. Sorrys didn't heal people; they didn't suddenly bring people back to you. He knew that too.
"Maybe a friend will.” It had slipped out before he could stop himself. Peter thought he was going to laugh again with the way his face was contorting at the proposition.
“Why would I want to be friends with someone who probably wore braces for half of his childhood?”
Peter recognized the grin that played on his face now from when he'd rescued him earlier. He absentmindedly decided it was his favorite Harry Osborne expression.
“Hey!” Peter leaned forward in his chair feigning offense.” I only wore braces for a year and a half. My teeth weren’t that bad.” The full, hearty laughter that erupted from Harry echoed off of the walls of the drab confining room and rung loud in Peter's ears. The corners of his mouth twitched into, what Gwen liked to call, his goofy boy grin. “Well I don’t want to be friends with someone who blow dries his hair every day anyway.”
Harry scoffed as if the idea had personally offended him.” I don’t every day.” There was again a silence between them as their eyes met and soon that silence was broken by the sudden laughter of both men.
“Hey, what’s your name?” Harry held the hand not punctured by an IV out towards Peter who awkwardly took it from his position beside him to shake it.
“Peter Parker.”
“Harry Osborn, but you already knew that.” Harry responded with an air of cockiness to him that seemed to be growing more and more present.
“So, friends then?”
“Consider it more of a truce from me disliking you.” Peter snorted choosing to fall into silence again rather than responding. He suddenly became aware of the heart monitor again as its beeping drowned out his thoughts. He closed his eyes losing himself in the steady rhythm only barely aware of Harry's silent presence beside him.
"Mr. Osborn.” Both men jumped with a start at the voice that suddenly sounded from the entrance of the room. “Oh, hello Peter." She added a bit stunned to see him considering the incident she had witnessed between the two early. "I need to do a check up on Mr. Osborn so if you could come back some other time…”
He scrambled to his feet scraping the chair loudly against the tile floor. He winced at his lack of grace feeling a familiar smirk directed at his back. “Oh, yeah! That’s okay Dr. Mallory. I’ll just go.”
He turned to Harry again who was now definitely giving him the most snarky expression possible. Peter ran a hand through his hair and muttered a rushed goodbye as Dr. Mallory's eyes latched on to his every move.
“I’ll expect to see you tomorrow, Parker.” Peter stopped at the door and smiled to himself. If he smiled anymore that day he was convinced his mouth would actually fall off of his face.
"Can do," He called back and made himself move towards pediatrics where he knew Gwen would be waiting for him ready to chew him out about being nearly an hour and a half late. For once, he didn't think it'd be all that bad.
(x)
That night Peter dreamed of laughter that painted clear glass eyes and shaped marble skin. He dreamed of dimples and too many teeth and IVs and heartbeats, steady and slow. He dreamed of Gwen, Aunt May, and for the first time in a long time, of Uncle Ben. That night, Peter dreamed of hope.