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“Peter?”
Peter took his head out of his book, blinking in surprise when Morgan poked him in the nose. “Hey, squirt,” he said, reaching out and ruffling her hair. She giggled, and he detached himself from the ceiling to drop down.
“Peter, why can’t I stick to the ceiling?” Morgan asked, jumping up as if it would help her reach the ceiling.
“Well, you didn’t get bit by a radioactive spider.”
Morgan’s face lit up. “Can I?”
“Absolutely not. Is that what you came in here for? To ask me about my powers again? You already know most of the stuff I can do anyways.”
Morgan shook her head. “Harley keeps saying Mommy’s word, which is against the rules.”
Peter tilted his head. “Mommy’s word? What’s that?”
“Okay, I’ll tell you, but you can’t tell Daddy I said it.” Peter squatted down, and Morgan leaned in close, cupping her small hand around his ear. “Harley keeps saying ‘shit’.”
“Oh! Yeah, you definitely shouldn’t know that word. And Harley shouldn’t be saying it. I’ll go talk to him, make sure he’s not in any trouble. Okay?”
Morgan pulled back, giving a toothy smile. “Okay! I’m gonna go watch Moana!” Peter chuckled as she ran out of the room before worry crossed his features.
He left his room and turned to Harley’s, which was only a little ways down from his own. The door was closed, so Peter knocked on it gently.
“Shit,” he could hear Harley mutter. “Shit, shit.”
“Hey, Morgan just told me you’re not allowed to use that word, apparently it belongs to Pepper,” Peter said. “Wanna stop swearing loud enough for Morgan to hear and tell me what’s going on?”
Harley opened the door, and Peter nearly started at the miserable look on his face. “What’s going on?” he asked again, tentatively.
Harley pressed his face into Peter’s shoulder. “I fucked up,” he said. “C’mon in, I’ll explain. Oh my God, this sucks.” Harley pulled back, face flushed, beckoning Peter to sit on his bed. “Okay,” the blond said, taking a deep breath. “So, basically, my mom called me again.”
Peter automatically winced. He knew, from several late-night conversations, why Harley had gotten in contact with Tony again. “What does she want now?”
“She invited me down for Thanksgiving. I know,” Harley said when Peter screwed up his face. “But then I asked why she wanted me down there when she made it clear she didn’t want me around. And she said-” Harley took a deep breath. “She said that I wasn’t actually gay because I don’t have a boyfriend, and that there’s still hope for me.”
“Dude, what the hell?” Peter said. “That’s so rude! What’d you say?”
“Well, here’s where I screwed up,” Harley groaned, flopping forward face-first onto his bed next to Peter. His voice was muffled by the bedspread, but Peter still heard him say, loud and clear, “I told her I did have a boyfriend.”
“Do you?” Peter didn’t understand the tight feeling that clenched at his chest, so he ignored it.
“No! But she told me that if I had a boyfriend, then I should bring him to dinner. If I say no, she won’t think I’m really gay!”
“That’s dumb, you’re gay whether or not you have a boyfriend,” Peter said immediately, the strange feeling relinquishing.
Harley rolled on his back, side nearly resting on Peter’s thigh. “Yeah, I know that, but she doesn’t. If I don’t show up to Thanksgiving with someone, I’m pretty sure she’ll keep thinking I’m ‘secretly straight’ or some bullshit for the rest of my life, and-” Harley sighed, crossing his arms and hugging himself. “I just want her to actually accept it. She’s my mom, she’s important to me.”
“I know she is.” An idea was prickling at the base of Peter’s skull, but he was afraid to voice it out loud. “So, what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” Harley said in frustration. “I’m seventeen, it’s not like I can buy someone who will pretend to date me! Plus, they ain’t gonna know anything about me, so would it even work? Ugh, I just- I just need someone who wouldn’t think this whole situation is too weird.”
“Well, I think anyone would find this weird. But it’s also funny. I-” Peter swallowed. “I’ll come with you if you can’t find anyone else. I make the most sense, anyway.”
Harley flushed bright red, and he covered his face with his hands. “Oh my god,” was all he said.
The more Peter thought about it, the more it just made sense. “I know you the best, anyways. And you pretending to date a stranger would be weird; you take a while to warm up to people. You’re already comfortable with me anyways, and I know for a fact Aunt May works on Thanksgiving. She always does.”
“Oh my fucking god,” Harley said again, sitting up.
“What, do you not think it’s a good idea?” Now Peter was getting nervous, nervous Harley had the wrong idea. “I mean, it’s not like we’ll actually be dating anyway. We’re still friends, we’ll just have to pretend to do more- you know, couple things.”
“God, I hate that you’re right,” Harley groaned. “But you are. I don’t think anyone else could pull this off but you.”
Peter preened at the compliment but immediately pushed himself back into forming a plan. Plans he could do. Plans would keep them on track. “Okay, so Thanksgiving is in a week. That should give us at least a few days to come up with a backstory, right?”
“How are you so calm about this?” Harley asked.
Peter nudged his side. “It’s just a few days, and we’ll go right back to being normal, right?”
“Right,” Harley exhaled shakily. “It’s only a few days, anyway.”
chat: it’s the fellas
peterman: ned ur going to have to get the tie fighter set
for me i can’t make it to black friday shopping
chair: ???
chair: ARE YOU GOING TO THE AVENGERS
COMPOUND FOR THANKSGIVING!!!
peterman: no i
peterman: harley is going back home to
tennessee and im going with him
superior: why
peterman: …
peterman: his mom won’t believe he’s gay unless
he brings a boyfriend home for thanksgiving
superior: that’s literally not how it works
chair: oh shit ur going to be his boyfriend
aren’t you
peterman: i know
peterman: and yeah i’m gonna pretend to be harley’s
boyfriend to fight off his homophobic family
superior: truly a hero to the gays, spiderman
peterman: spider-man. hyphen. and someone’s gotta be
peterman: besides, it’s only for a few days, and then
we’ll go right back to normal. it’s not a big deal
chair: mj,,,,
superior: i know
peterman: ???
superior: don’t turn this into a 50k slowburn,
peter, you’re smarter than that
chair: hfjskdfhkdkf
peterman: ?????????
It had taken a few days, but they had come up with a plan. They knew their backstory, how they had gotten together, their first date, their latest date, and anything in between. Their shared history helped a lot, it was really just taking things they had already done and simply twisting it to be a little more romantic.
Now that they had their backstory, Peter was thinking about how they would act. He had talked to Harley about it from the beginning, and they figured that as long as they held hands and cuddled, they’d be fine. It was how they ended up after movie marathons anyway, so now they just had to extend it outside of that.
However, Peter was still angry that Harley’s mom was treating her son this way, forcing him to pretend to date someone just to prove his sexuality. He wanted to show her, show anyone who was mildly homophobic down in Rose Hill that it was okay to be gay, bi, whatever.
So that was the reason, really the only reason that he opened Harley’s bedroom door, nearly bumping into the taller boy as he moved to walk out.
“Oh! Hey, Peter. I was just about to come find you. What’s up?”
“Um, I was thinking. Your family, they’re probably going to expect us to do something weird like prove we’re a real couple, right?” Why was Peter’s heart beating so fast? Why did his stomach flutter as Harley shifted to lean against the wall, the arm above his head causing his shirt to ride up just a few inches? “They’ll probably want us to, you know, kiss and stuff.”
Harley paled. “R-right. Yeah, they probably will, won’t they.”
“Yeah! So we should- we should practice.”
“Practice,” Harley said flatly. “Practice kissing?”
“Yep,” Peter said. “Just, y’know, normal kisses. Nothing a normal couple wouldn’t do.”
“Yeah.” Harley’s voice sounded oddly strangled. “So, how would you-”
“Um-” Peter took a step forward into Harley’s space. Neither boy moved for a moment, then Harley’s head darted forward to press a kiss to Peter’s cheek. It was barely a press, barely more than a moment, but Peter’s eyes widened at the sudden contact.
“Oh, shit, sorry, I should’ve warned you or something,” Harley muttered, eyes cast downward. “But you said we should practice, and I can’t tell you every time we kiss, so.”
“No, you’re right, you’re right,” Peter agreed hurriedly. “But I’ll just- I’m going to kiss you now.”
“Okay.” Harley nodded. Peter tilted his head up to close the space between them, lips resting against Harley’s. They were rougher than Peter had thought they’d be, slightly chapped. Neither of their arms moved, but Peter wondered what it would be like to kiss Harley with his hand against his cheek-
Peter pulled back, face flushing. “Your lips are chapped,” he said quickly, because his head was still reeling from that sudden image and he needed a sense of normality to pull him back.
“I guess I’ll buy some chapstick before we leave,” Harley replied.
“Okay. So- when we get to Tennessee, I can kiss you?”
“When we get to Tennessee,” Harley agreed, his eyes not quite meeting Peter’s. “I’ve gotta-” he started out the door, but Peter grabbed his arm.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “Are you still okay with doing this?”
Harley smiled like the apprehension in his eyes had never been there at all. “Of course,” he said. “You’re the only person I trust to do this right, after all.”
Peter smiled back, laughed. “You’re right.” Harley was trusting him with this. He wasn’t going to screw it up.
chat: it’s the fellas
superior: so how r preparations going
peterman: we practiced kissing today so it would
be more natural in front of his family
superior: holy shit
superior: ur even dumber than i thought
peterman: huh???
peterman: this was my idea lmao
chair: who took your braincells peter
superior: lmao
peterman: ?? what are u talkin about lol
A few days after that, Peter watched Harley press his nose against the airplane window as the hills of Tennessee came into focus. “Happy to be home?” Peter wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t nervous, every time he got around Harley his heartbeat would quicken and he got a little shaky. Hopefully once they settled into their roles of dating, it would get easier.
“I guess. I’m excited to see Abbie again, it’s been nearly a year since I talked to her face-to-face. Last Christmas.”
“Yeah, I remember.” Abbie was a spitfire, a ball of energy. Peter simultaneously wished he had gotten to spend more time with her and also was afraid to be in a room alone with her. “That’s good, then. If nothing else you’ll get to spend time with her.”
“That’s true.” Harley turned away from the window to look at Peter. “You’re still okay with this, right?”
“No backing out now,” Peter said, because it was true. He didn’t think his pulse could get any faster but here he was. He smiled. “It’ll be fine. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Harley nodded. “You remember everything?”
“Yep.” Peter said. “We’ve prepared for this. And you’ll finally get your mom off your back and stop questioning your sexuality.”
“Hopefully,” Harley said. “Let’s not count our chickens before they hatch, though.”
Peter grinned. “Oh, please tell me you keep chickens.”
Harley laughed. “No, but Mrs. Mabel down the road does. We can go visit them if you’d like.”
Peter nodded, and felt a warm feeling bloom within him when his enthusiastic agreement made Harley laugh.
They exited the plane, backpack over Peter’s shoulder and suitcase in his hand. “This is a lot smaller of an airport than JFK.”
“I think you’ll find a lot of things around here are smaller than New York,” Harley said.
“Makes sense.” Peter nodded as they left the boarding area to head outside.
“Harley!”
There was a blur running down the sidewalk, and Harley only had time to drop his bag before he had an armful of a lanky blonde kid, who had latched onto him and was squeezing him tightly.
“Hey,” Harley said, voice rough with emotion. “Good to see you, dork.”
The kid pulled back and Peter recognized her as Abbie. She looked at him and scrunched up her face in confusion. “Peter?”
Peter waved, a little awkwardly, not sure what Harley had told them.
Peter caught sight of a woman coming up behind Abbie, passing her and going to hug Harley. “Hey, baby,” she said, pulling Harley into her arms. “Welcome home.”
Peter could see Harley’s shoulders tense for only a second before relaxing into the hug. “Hey Mama,” he said.
His mom pulled back, examining his face for a moment before noticing that Peter was also standing there. “Oh! Who’s this? I wasn’t expecting you to bring anyone.”
Harley moved, stood shoulder to shoulder to that they could link hands. “What are you talking about? I thought you said to bring my boyfriend to Thanksgiving,” he said in a falsey innocent tone, and Peter bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.
Abbie’s eyes bugged, and his mom’s face flickered between a multitude of expressions - surprise, disgust, confusion - before settling on an empty grin with eyes that didn’t match her smile. “Well, then welcome to Tennessee, young man.”
“Peter Parker.” Not letting go of Harley’s hand, Peter stuck out his right hand to shake. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. Harley has told me a lot about you.”
“I wish I could say the same, but it’s good to see my boy with someone.” The tightness in her grin betrayed her words, and Peter’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You can call me Ms. Keener. Come on, the car’s idling.”
Peter exchanged a look with Harley as the two women turned their backs, but Harley just shrugged, squeezing Peter’s hand before picking up his suitcase and following them.
The four of them got in the back of Ms. Keener’s sedan. Abbie claimed shotgun despite Harley’s protests, and thus Peter and Harley were in the backseat, their suitcases between them. Peter pulled out his phone, shooting a text to Harley
chat: potato
peterman: ?? should we hold hands
potato: na not while we’re in a car
potato: you still good?
Peter looked up from his phone and met Harley’s eyes, giving a firm nod. Harley smiled, and Peter smiled back.
“So, when did y’all get together?” Abbie asked suddenly, turning around in the front seat to look back at the two of them. Peter looked at Harley again, then opened his mouth.
“Oh, after finals,” he said. “Somewhere around June- what was it?”
“June 19th, sweetheart. I think it’s actually going to be our five-month anniversary on Thanksgiving, which is really nice. I wouldn’t want to spend it with anyone else.”
Peter really liked it when Harley called him names like that, and he realized with a sad start that he wasn’t going to keep doing that once this weekend was over. He smiled at Harley. “Right, yeah, the 19th. I can’t believe it’s been five months, it feels like longer.”
Abbie looked between the two of them. “You guys are gross. Please tell me you’re not one of those weird lovey-dovey couples.”
Harley just wiggled his eyebrows in lieu of an actual response, and Peter laughed when all Abbie said was “Ew,” and turned back around.
It wasn’t a long drive to get back to Rose Hill, just long enough that Peter started to get drowsy. He was shaken away by Harley, a gentle touch on his shoulder. “We’re here, sleepyhead.”
Peter nodded slowly, picking his head up from the window. “Awesome.”
The evening passed smoothly. They both put their stuff in Harley’s room and helped with dinner. After that, they helped prepare for Thanksgiving dinner the next day- Peter mashed potatoes, Harley helped make a pumpkin pie. When they had been on opposite ends of the kitchen for a while, Peter figured it only made sense to walk over to Harley and give him a quick peck on the lips, to which his mom nearly flinched to look away from.
The moon was high in the sky when they both decided to retire, waving a quiet goodnight and retreating with an arm around each other’s waist.
“You don’t mind sharing a bed, right?” Harley asked Peter quietly, turning around to take his shirt off.
“Nah, we’ve fallen asleep after movie nights plenty of times. There’s no real difference, right?”
They tried to stay on opposite sides of Harley’s twin-sized bed, but the space was small and when morning came Peter found himself curled over Harley, almost protectively. His arm draped over his side, holding the other boy close to his chest. Harley’s head was resting in the space between his shoulder and his neck, blond hair nearly tickling the base of Peter’s nose. Peter pulled away before Harley could wake up, gently separating the two of them.
It had been kind of chilly that night anyways, and they had both slept without a shirt. This wasn’t any different than cuddling.
Peter wished Harley had had a better Thanksgiving dinner. They tried to keep to themselves, but invasive uncles and grandparents asked continuous questions in between bites. Peter charmed them with a smile and a kind but forceful statement, and when his hand found Harley’s under the table he squeezed it and looked over at him. Harley’s eyes shone with gratitude and Peter found he couldn’t stop himself from pressing a kiss to his cheek.
After dinner, they were all sprawled around the small house, drowsy from the meal. Peter’s head was resting on Harley’s chest, nearly in his lap as he held his phone up to text his friend.
chat: its the fellas
peterman: i cannot believe harleys uncle
peterman: he asked us which one of us
was the girl in the relationship
chair: ??? that’s literally so stupid
superior: im omw to tennessee to throw down
peterman: nono its fine
peterman: just wanted to rant
peterman: it’s all good now i shut it down
superior: still gonna throw down
Harley laughed at that, the movement of his chest shifting Peter slightly. He resettled so he was a little more comfortable and he would have fallen asleep if it wasn’t for Abbie, beckoning him out the front door a few hours after dinner.
“Oh, looks like she’s gonna give you the shovel talk,” Harley said, the laughter rumbling in his chest sending a slight shiver down Peter’s spine. “Don’t be too mean to him, Abs.”
Abbie laughed, still beckoning him. “Don’t worry, I won’t be.”
Peter followed Abbie out the door, completely unconcerned about this shovel talk. Only, when they sat down against the tree outside, Peter pulling at his sweatshirt as the wind rushed around them, Abbie looked at him and said, very simply, “I know you’re not really dating him, you know.”
Peter faked confusion, tilting his head. “What are you talking about? We’ve been dating for five months now.”
Abbie shook her head. “You’re doing a great job of it, but you’re not really dating. Harley would have texted me the second you two were a thing, trust me.”
“Um,” Peter licked his lips. “I wanted to keep it a secret for a bit?”
Abbie shook his head. “I know my brother. He texts me about all his crushes, he would have told me if he started dating you.”
“Don’t tell your mom,” Peter blurted. “I’m just doing this so she’ll get off his back about him not really being gay.”
“No, I ain’t gonna tell her, jeez!” Abbie said, a scandalized look crossing her face. Her palm fisted in the long grass. “I’m here to give you some advice, numbnuts.”
Peter raised an eyebrow. “And I should be taking advice about pretending to date someone from a fourteen-year-old why?”
“Well, I’ve read plenty of fanfiction on the matter, so I can point you in the right direction, first of all. Which leads to my second point, that you, Peter Parker-” she ripped a handful of grass from the ground, twisting the strands in her fingers. “You’re in love with him.”
Peter blinked. “I’m not, though.”
Abbie nodded sagely. “You are.”
“Abbie, please. I’m just being a good friend, that’s all this is. Promise.”
“Really?” Now she raised an eyebrow. “If you were really fake dating with no feelings, you wouldn’t be so free with kissin’ him. You wouldn’t already sound so much like a couple- I know those stories you told, about your first date n’ whatever. You didn’t have to change much, did you?”
Peter’s mouth opened, shut, and fell open again. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he blustered, shaking his head. “Harley and I are just used to being around each other. That’s why I volunteered to do this with him.”
“Oh, you volunteered?” Abbie asked. “You didn’t even let him try to find someone else?”
“No, why would he need to find someone else? He has me.”
Abbie looked up to the sky, hands clasped. “Lord, please make me a lesbian so I don’t have to deal with men and their bullshit.” She lowered her head and looked at Peter. “Look, there are two ways this can go. Either you can continue to pretend you’re not in love with my brother, and have some dumb massive conflict when you finally do because you think he doesn’t return your feelings, or you can just go back to Harley now, tell him how you feel, and save me from having to deal with your pining asses for the next few days.”
“Abbie, I’m not in love with Harley,” Peter said. “That’s ridiculous.”
Abbie shook her head. “Suit yourself, but the fanfic plots don’t lie. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to prepare for when I inevitably console one of you because your head it too far up your ass to believe he could ever like you back.” She stood up, brushing the grass off her jeans, and turned to head inside.
“Wait,” Peter said. “Harley can’t like me back. You said he texts you about his crushes, and you also said he hasn’t texted you about me.”
Abbie gave him a long, measured stare. “He has texted me about you. He just didn’t text me to say that you guys were dating.” With that, she turned to head back into the house.
Peter sat on the grass until the wind began to bite at his skin, lost in his thoughts.
“You wouldn’t be so free with kissin’ him.”
He pulled out his phone.
chat: its the fellas
peterman: how do you know if you like
someone as a friend or as a crush
peterman: like whats the difference
superior: god you’re so close
chair is typing…
“Hey.”
Peter looked up from his phone, stowing it in the pocket of his hoodie. “Hey, Harley.” His heartbeat had increased again, but why? There was no reason to be nervous about pretending to date Harley, it was just the two of them out here.
His phone buzzed, but he didn’t pull it out.
“Must’ve been a hell of a shovel talk,” Harley said as he sauntered over, hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Since, you know, it shouldn’t really affect you anyway.”
“Why wouldn’t it have affected me?” Peter laughed, but it sounded hollow to his ears. “Abbie’s a powerful force.” His mind was whirling again, going over her words.
“You didn’t have to change much, did you?”
“Abbie knows we’re not really dating,” he blurted.
Harley sat down next to him, their sides pressing together with their backs against the tree. It burned where they touched, but Peter kind of liked it. He wanted to feel that warmth, feel that touch, always. He wanted Harley to touch him, always.
“She won’t tell,” Harley said. “I’m sure she won’t. So she didn’t give you a shovel talk, then? What were you out here for, then?”
A lie sat on Peter’s tongue. “Just talking,” he could say. Or, “just killing time.”
He looked at Harley, turned his head. His eyes followed the path of his profile, tracing the outline of his blue eyes, the bridge of his nose, his dry, pink lips. There was a mole on his chin, and a smattering of freckles across the underside of his jaw. Peter wanted to kiss every single dot on his face until he knew them all.
The realization hit Peter so suddenly that he couldn’t even react, just sat there and stared at Harley with a frozen expression on his face.
“You didn’t even let him try to find someone else?”
“No, why would he need to find someone else? He has me.”
“Hey, you still haven’t answered my question.”
Peter met Harley’s eyes and inhaled sharply. Bright blue. Beautiful. How had he never seen it before?
Harley chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck with his hands. “Uh, Peter? You’re makin’ me kinda nervous here. What’s goin’ on in there?” He tapped Peter’s forehead with his finger, teasingly, but Peter could still only focus on the press of Harley’s shoulder against his.
He saw what Abbie meant now. He could easily play it safe, brush it off. They could go back inside and keep pretending to be a couple. These feelings were probably just instigated by Abbie’s pushing, anyways. They’d go away, right?
Or he could take a chance, he could push, at least a little.
“She said the reason that she knew was because you texted her about all your crushes.”
“Oh.” Harley laughed breathily, with an undercurrent that Peter could detect as apprehension. “Yeah, probably ‘cause I never texted her about havin’ a crush on you, because we’re just friends.” His smile was tight, and Peter wondered.
“She just said you never texted her about dating me.” Peter resisted the urge to reach out and grab Harley’s hand. “Harley,” Peter said softly, shaky with realization.
“You, Peter Parker- You’re in love with him.”
“Yeah?”
His exhale tickled Peter’s cheeks. “I’m about to kiss you,” he stated.
“What? Why? No one’s watching us out here, you don’t have to pretend for me,” Harley said.
“I don’t want to pretend,” Peter said. Then, “Tell me if I should stop.” Then, he was kissing Harley.
It wasn’t a soft brush of lips against the cheek, wasn’t a simple peck on the lips. Peter tilted his head and shut his eyes, slotting his lips against Harley’s in a real kiss, the kiss he had wanted for so long, but had ignored, pushed it aside. He couldn’t keep his hands at his sides like he fought to do when they had kissed before, they flew up to cradle Harley’s face, fingers interlacing at the base of his neck to draw him closer.
Harley seemed to share his thoughts, his hands found their way over to Peter’s waist and tugged, pulling Peter onto his lap. Peter broke apart for merely a second to inhale, hardly giving Harley a chance to speak before he was kissing him again.
Harley exhaled into Peter’s mouth, a breathy noise that Peter chased after, deepening the kiss and pressing his tongue to the inside of Harley’s mouth. There was a whine at the back of Peter’s throat as he kissed Harley with everything he hadn’t realized before.
“Oh, sweetheart. Darlin’, please,” Harley panted against his lips. Peter hummed, pushing against him. “Peter,” Harley pulled back, lips swollen and red, face flushed. His breathing was heavy; when his chest rose and fell it brushed against the front of Peter’s sweatshirt.
“I can’t believe I missed it,” Peter breathed.
“Missed what?” Harley asked.
“You. You were in front of me all this time, and I didn’t even realize how in love I was.”
“Fuck,” Harley said, eyes blown wide. “You’re not pretending?”
“I told you, Harley,” Peter leaned in, barely a breath away. “I don’t want to pretend anymore.”
“Thank God.” Harley grabbed the front of Peter’s sweatshirt and closed the space between them. Peter’s hands braced them against the tree trunk as he kissed Harley, again and again and again.
chat: its the fellas (2 unread)
chair: well that’s a loaded question to ask
and disappear to
chair: peter?
peterman: oh no guys i figured it out
superior: ...figured what out
peterman: why didn’t you tell me i
was in love with harley earlier
peterman: i could have been making out with
him for ages now and you didn’t tell me
chair: !!!! HOLY SHIT
superior changed ‘peterman’ to ‘im dumbass’
superior: fucking finally
superior: also no this is 100% your fault
im dumbass: stop bullying me
chair: we’ve been waiting nearly a
year absolutely not
im dumbass: a year!!?!?
im dumbass: ok maybe i am dumbass
im dumbass: sorry gotta go i hjdfsk
chair: ???
Harley plucked the phone from Peter’s hand and tossed it onto the carpet of his bedroom floor. “You told them already?”
Peter snorted. “More like they had been trying to tell me. But yeah. They know.”
Harley swung his legs across Peter’s lap, pushing his back down onto the bed. “Can’t believe it took you this long to realize,” he said, breath warm and heavy against Peter’s lips. “We could’ve been doing this a lot sooner.”
“That’s what I was saying,” Peter said, surging upward to meet him in a kiss, laughing against his lips. “But I figured it out now, which is what matters, right?”
“Absolutely,” Harley agreed. “I didn’t know if I could take much more of just pretending to kiss you, darlin’, I wanted to kiss you like I’m kissin’ you now.”
“When?” Peter asked.
“In the tower, when you asked to practice kissing, I wanted to kiss you like this.” It was gentle and sweet, the perfect first kiss. “And when you kissed me in the kitchen yesterday, what I really wanted to do was this.” When he kissed Peter again, he took the brunette’s bottom lip in between his teeth after a moment, and Peter gasped into his mouth, surging upward and tangling his hands in his hair.
“And now?” Peter asked, nearly breathless with anticipation. “What do you want to do now?”
“I’d rather show you than tell you, to be honest,” Harley said, leaning down to kiss Peter again, again, again.