Chapter Text
Harley woke up first, not that he thought Peter would wake up first. The boy had just been shot. Somehow they shifted during the night and he now had an arm full of Peter Parker who was snuggling into his chest like he was some kind of teddy bear. He wasn’t sure whether or not to wake him up, but when he shifted slightly the younger teen groaned and slowly opened his eyes. He seemed confused as he looked at Harley’s chest and then slowly looked up at the older boy.
“Harley?” his voice croaked with the question, but he didn’t sound alarmed.
“Hey sugar, how ya feelin’?” Harley asked gently as he awoke.
Peter groaned in response as he unthinkingly burrowed his head into Harley’s chest again to block the light from his eyes. “Not very good.”
‘Yeah, figured as much.” He leaned over to his bedside table and pulled out a bottle of Asprin. “Here. Take two of these. It’ll take away some of the pain.”
Peter shook his head and whined. “Is not gonna do anything.”
“Peter, they’ll make you feel better.”
“No they won’t.” Peter responded as he buried his delirious head under his blanket.
“Yes, they will! They’re pain killers.”
“No, I’m not like you.”
Harley rolled his eyes. What the hell was that supposed to mean? “I know you’re not hungover. But you’re still delusional.”
“Noooo,” Peter whined again.
“Fine. I’ll leave the bottle here and when you stop acting like a big baby, you can take them. I’ll get you some water.” Harley got up and huffed before starting out of the room.
“Hmm, thanks May, love you.” Peter hummed.
As Harley turned around Peter was already asleep.
.-~*~-.
When Peter awoke again, he was much more aware of his surroundings than before. Harley sat at his desk, as if he had been waiting for him to wake up.
“Morning, sleeping beauty.”
“How long was I out?” Peter asked.
“Well you went to sleep around 3, and woke up at 9, but went back to sleep until now which is…” He looked at his watch. “12:13.”
“Awesome. I’m late for work.”
Harley held up his phone. “I called in to Luigi’s and told him you couldn’t make it. Said you got a bad stomach bug.”
Peter relaxed in his sheets. “Thanks.”
“So you wanna tell me how you got shot?” Harley finally asked.
“Not really.” Peter took out his phone and began scrolling through his notifications.
“Peter, I just saw probably the most disturbing and traumatizing thing in my life. You said a lot of whack shit last night.”
“I’m sure I did,” Peter said casually, not looking up from his phone to avoid Harley’s gaze.
“See? You can’t say things like that. It makes it seem like you’ve gotten shot before.”
“I have gotten shot before.” Peter said, cursing at himself internally for letting that slip. “And last night I was just angry. I wasn’t paying attention and I got shot. I was being stupid.”
“That’s not stupid! That’s scary!” Harley told him.
Peter peered up at him. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t do it again.”
“It’ll probably happen again. Lot’s of guns in New York. Lots of opportunities to get shot.” Peter shrugged.
Harley looked at him baffled by the contextless statement. “Okay, you see, things like this don’t just casually happen in Rose Hill. Sure we’ve got guns, but they’re for gunnin’ deer.”
“You see any deer in the city?”
“Exactly!” Harley sighed as he looked down at his hands. Even though they were clean, he still felt the blood creeping under his nails.
“Nails are the hardest to get the feeling out of,” Peter told him softly. Harley looked up as the other boy was gazing at his hands too. “You can never get it out, no matter how much you try.”
“Peter…”
“I’m sorry you have blood on your hands, Harley. That’s not something you should have to deal with.”
“You shouldn’t either…”
“I have a cuticle pusher that can scrape it out from under your nails. It’s the best I can do. I’m sorry.”
“How do you know what to do?” Harley was almost afraid to ask.
Peter didn’t answer for a while, but broke the silence by stating, “a lot of experience.”
The two went back to their own worlds, Peter scrolling through his Instagram and Harley just watching him. He almost jumped up when Peter tried to pull himself out of his bed.
“Don’t get up!”
“I’m fine,” Peter retorted.
“You just got shot !”
“Yeah, I know. Stop making a big deal of it.”
“It is a big deal!” Harley exclaimed.
“Okay fine. But I’m hungry.”
“You sure you should eat? It says online that food can be a shock to the system after excessive blood loss,” Harley said hesitantly.
“Harley, I swear to god I will get up and make myself something if you don’t.”
“Fine, but no Pediasure. Or anything high calorie. I don’t want you puking. I think we had popsicles…”
“Yes, fine. Anything . Please, I’m starving!”
Harley hesitantly left Peter and rushed to the freezer, scrambling to find the Otterpops he hoped he hadn’t finished. Sighing in relief, he grabbed the treat to return to Peter’s room to find the teen standing and stretching.
“What are you doing?!”
Peter waved his hand dismissively. “I’m just stretching. My legs were starting to get sore.”
Harley rushed to pull Peter back to bed. “Maybe because there’s a bullet wound in one of them!”
“Stop being such a nervous nellie. I’m fine.”
Harley, knowing he couldn’t reason with Peter, gave up and watched with second-hand pain as he stretched.
.-~*~-.
“Peter... I know you just got shot…” Peter groaned at it being mentioned again. “...and I know we haven’t been on the best of terms but…” Harley hesitated.
“If you’re gonna ask something, ask it before I go to sleep. I’m tired.”
“Again?”
“Never lost so much blood without a transplant.”
“Jesus, Parker you...“
“Ask or forever hold your peace, Keener.” he stated simply.
“How would you feel about a kid?”
Peter looked at him with a raised brow. “Is this a marriage proposal? Because usually you don’t start with asking for kids.”
Harley shook his head. “No. It’s my sister. I wanted to gain custody rights over her. I have to ask you first. I know this is bad timing, but I was supposed to get back to the foster care people by the end of the weekend.”
Peter looked unsure at him, his tone almost apologetic. “Harley… you just pulled a bullet out of me. And I’m sorry to say, but that’s not the worst thing that’s ever happened between us.” Peter took a deep breath as he tried to figure out how to word his concerns. “We can barely keep ourselves from falling apart. We can’t keep a kid in conditions like this, especially when you and I... it’s not fair to her.”
Harley slumped and sighed. “You’re right.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too.”
.-~*~-.
Peter looked up from his book to turn to Harley who was still sitting at his desk, turning away so it didn’t seem like he had been looking at him the entire time. “I was thinking Thai. Does Thai sound good to you?”
“You shouldn’t be eating so much after the blood loss. We’ve talked about this,” Harley rebutted.
“I’m a hungry guy! Growing boy.”
“I can get you another popsicle…”
“Come on. Doesn’t broccoli sunshine sound really good right now…”
“God damn it, Peter, I can’t do this anymore! I can’t just act like this is… is normal! I can’t just pretend that you didn’t almost die in my arms last night. I can’t just push aside the fact that you were bleeding out while I sat there helplessly. I can’t just act like I wasn’t scared to death that I couldn’t do anything to save you. I can’t... I can’t let you just go out doing God knows what at night and find out that I have to patch up another bullet hole. Whatever this is you do, it has to stop.”
Peter shook his head. “It’s not that simple, Harley.”
“Then make it!” He exclaimed exasperated. “Please. I can’t know that I just let you go out and get yourself killed every night when I could’ve done something to stop you.”
“There’s nothing you can do, Harley. This is my life.” Peter got up to get his own Thai food but Harley grabbed his arm.
“No. You’re not getting out of this that easily.” Harley didn’t even know why he felt the need to prove himself to Peter. Maybe it was mix of his desperation to get Abby back or his fear that his recklessness was getting Peter into deadly situations or just his deep subconscious care for Peter, but he knew that he wanted to fix what he had started. Or maybe it was because he didn’t want someone to die because of him again. “I know we... I know we haven’t gotten off on the right foot, but I want to be better. I want us to be better.”
Peter took a deep breath. “It’s not that easy, Harley. You can’t just do a 180 and just expect me to forgive and forget. You’ve made these last months hell. You’ve pushed me deeper into a hole I couldn’t get out of. You’ve said things you can never take back and never make up for. You’ve shown me the person you are, and it’ll take a hell of a lot to prove to me you aren’t that person.”
“But you’re saying there’s a chance. You’re saying that you believe there is that person.”
Peter sighed. “That’s not what I said.”
“But that’s what you mean.” Harley pauses and looked around Peter’s room. As the curly haired teen stared bewildered at what the taller boy was scheming, he watched as he dragged his desk out of his room.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Harley went to his room and struggled to drag his mattress through the door and into Peter’s room.
“Harley, what are you...”
“I’m going to be sleeping in your room from now on.”
Peter’s jaw dropped. “You’re gonna what now?”
“I can’t trust that you won’t sneak out and do whatever it is you do, so I’m going to sleep in your room. I’ll go to bed after I know for sure that you’re asleep, and I will have my ways to wake myself up if you try to sneak out while I’m asleep.”
“Harley you don’t...”
“No, Peter. I have to. I’m trying to be better, and you should too.” He struggled to pull the mattress.
“If this is about Abby...”
“Of course this is about Abby!” He let go of the mattress but grabbed it as it fell. “But it isn’t all about her. You have to stop this self-destructive path you’ve set yourself on because you’re hurting others along the way.”
“Do I look like I give a flying fuck about how this affects you? Last time I checked, I’m the one with a bullet hole in my leg!”
Harley sucked a sudden breath in. “Your leg. We have to change your bandages.”
Peter’s eyes widened. “No! No. I’ll do it myself. I know how.”
“But you have to disinfect it and clean out the wound and…”
“I know, Harley. This isn’t my first rodeo,” he mocked.
“This isn’t a time for joking. Let me help you.”
Peter didn’t want to say no. Of course most of his being was rejecting Harley, but something in him wanted to just give in and let him take care of him. However, he knew that his enhanced healing factor would raise many questions, so once again he pushed Harley away and limped to the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it.
Alone with the deafening silence broken by the muddled chatter of his thoughts, Harley allowed himself to feel. For the first time since his mother’s funeral, since Abby was separated from him, since the traumatizing night prior, he let himself cry. He let himself be overwhelmed with the chest tightening pain and tremors of anxiety and head pounding pain. He let himself sob as he wiped away warm tears from his cheeks. He let himself finally let the world catch up to him.
He went to his old room, and slammed the door, really wishing that he hadn’t just moved his bed into Peter’s room. He pressed his head against the wall and covered his mouth as he gasped for air. He let the hurt of his loss take over, no temporary high to mask his pain. He was feeling again, and he didn’t know if he wanted to feel. He didn’t know if he wanted to drown it away with a bottle of vodka or just let the moment take over. For the first time in months, he was Harley Keener: Tennessee mama’s boy, not Harley Keener: player and party animal. He was feeling again, and he didn’t know how to stop.
Something made the hairs on Peter’s arms raise as he re-applied the bandages, and he didn’t know what. Peter didn’t even think, he just followed it, not even putting on his suit because whatever caused it was so close.
It was in Harley’s room.
“Harley?” he knocked. He heard a breath hitch with his enhanced hearing. He smelled the sweat through the door. It wasn’t a lot, but he had enhanced senses. “It’s… it’s Peter. I’m gonna get some Thai food.” He paused. “Do you… wanna come?” He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but his premonition was dying down, so whatever he was doing was right.
It took a moment, but the door opened, revealing a much more hesitant and disheveled looking Harley.
“I’m not stopping you from eating, am I?” Harley leaned against the door frame. “Or going out?”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
Harley sighed. “Fine. Lemme get my jacket.” Harley said going back into his room as he grumbled. “Gotta make sure you don’t get shot again.” Peter giggled a little, he didn’t know why. It wasn’t funny.
“You know,” Peter said as he and Harley walked down the street, Peter in a pair of crutches he always kept handy. “I never had anyone actually see me after I get shot.”
Harley looked at him warily. “That’s depressing,” he said and muttered under his breath, “and worrying.”
“I guess.” Peter shrugged. “But I never thought about what would happen if someone did . I didn’t think anyone would care outside of May.” Peter tried to say casually. Harley looked at him again, this time with sympathy. Peter continued, ignoring the pang in his chest. “I didn’t think how someone would feel if they… if they ever actually looked at it,” he admitted.
“I just don’t know how you have nearly no reaction to it.” Harley scrunched up his nose a little.
“I guess I’m desensitized to it.” Peter shrugged.
“If it happens that often, don’t you think you should change something?” Harley asked. “You could get seriously hurt.”
“I wanna ask why you’d care, but I guess you don’t want a dead body in your bathroom at 4AM,” Peter tried to joke lightly.
“It’s not just that,” Harley whispered.
Peter realized they needed a tone shift, something to get Harley’s mind off of whatever was on it. “What are you thinking of getting? No, wait. Let me guess. You seem the summer roll type.” He paused as he thought. “And… pad gra prow.”
“Well, I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had Thai food before.”
Peter gave him a wide, toothy grin. “You’re in for a treat.” He grabbed the taller boy’s hand and tugged him into the restaurant, not letting go of his hand as he ordered, only realizing the position as they went to sit down. “You’re not allergic to shellfish, are you?”
Harley shook his head. “Just blueberries.”
“Blueberries? Really?”
He shrugged. “It’s uncommon but its possible. I also get mild reactions from most pitted fruits.”
“That explains why you don’t eat healthy, then,” Peter joked.
Harley hit his arm softly. “I eat more vegetables than you Mr. I Only Eat Carry Out And Pediasure.”
“Carry out can be very nutritious.”
Harley raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
“Well, my chinese takeout has great sources of protein.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, protein that has been fried twice and covered in soy and salt.”
“Irrelevant.”
Harley smiled. “Okay, what else?”
“I get kabobs at that middle eastern place down the street. Great veggies.” Peter responded, now teasing him with his tone.
He nodded. “That’s a good start. And?”
“Omelets and chipotle bowls at Lite Bites.”
“You know I make a pretty mean omelet?” Harley suggested.
“I bet you put weird shit on it like mushrooms and tomatoes.”
He gasped dramatically. “How could you think that mushrooms and tomatoes ruin an omelet when they are the key ingredients?”
Peter scoffed. “They taint the omelet if anything. It overpowers the taste. I prefer the simple cheese, ham, spinach, and bacon.”
“Not even any caramelized onions?”
Peter stopped. “Of course you like caramelized onions! Next you’re going to tell me that you like bell peppers.” Harley didn’t respond. “Ugh, you do!”
“You’re the picky eater here. Not me.”
“Well we’re here.”
Peter watched with a giddy smile waiting for Harley to try his food, and smiled even wider as he watched him close his eyes and savour the taste. “Good, right?”
Harley nodded. “Really good.” As there was a tense silence as the two ate, Peter’s overall demeanor shifting back to the guarded hurt, Harley put down his food and looked to him. “I’m sorry, Peter.
About everything. Especially about last night. I wasn’t in a good headspace and I just… I let it out on you.”
“Honestly, Harley? I don’t know if I forgive you yet. We aren’t there. But I appreciate the apology,” Peter admitted.
“That’s enough.”