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Harley became suspicious as soon as Peter entered his dorm room. The other man looked restless, unsettled even – shuffling from foot to foot and alternating between running a hand through his hair and fiddling around with something in the pocket of his hoodie. The last time Peter looked like this, it was right before he told Harley that he was Spider-Man. Two years ago.
“Parker, what’s wrong?” Harley swiveled his desk chair around to face the other man.
“Uh, so you know the Stark Industries gala at the end of the month?” Peter threw off his outermost jacket and moved to sit across from Harley on his bed.
“Yeah, the entire city knows since it’s been plastered on the front page of every magazine since August.”
“Well, since I’m, you know, Spider-Man and officially the head designer for all his tech, I got an invite this year.”
“Oh. Cool.” Harley didn’t quite know what this fact had to do with him. He eyed Peter warily while the other man continued staring at the floor. Every square inch of his dorm room was thick with the tension that radiated off of Peter. Harley wanted to cut through it with a chainsaw.
“Will you go with me?” Peter blurted out at the same instant that Harley said “I think it’s stupid.”
“Wait, what?” They again spoke in sync, mirrored looks of confusion on their faces.
Peter beat Harley to the punch this time, “Um, yeah. All employees are expected to go and I have a plus one.” He was still looking anywhere but Harley as he spoke, furiously biting at his nails.
“Oh…” Harley trailed off and looked down at his long forgotten calculus homework. After a brief, awkward silence full of deliberation, he spoke again, “There’s free food and drinks, right? Like, alcoholic drinks?”
Peter scoffed, “Yeah, obviously.”
“Don't you think Tony and Happy will freak out if we say we're dating?”
“Probably.” Peter continued picking at his nails, avoiding Harley's gaze. He'd deal with the fallout of fake dating Tony's first protégé later.
“Okay, yeah.” Harley continued mulling over the idea in his head. “I’ll go with you.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, legs casually sprawled out. “But what else aren’t you telling me?”
Nobody on the planet had a poker face worse than Peter Parker, and Harley knew it. He could tell the other man was still withholding something from him. Peter’s fidgeting gradually worsened as he started to look more and more uncomfortable. He alternated between crossing and uncrossing his legs while rubbing the back of his neck.
“We, uh, we have to dress up since it’s a costume party.”
“Like I said, stupid.” Harley rolled his eyes and idly spun in circles in his desk chair.
“We should do a couple’s costume!” The words came out in a rush and Peter’s face was beet red as he said it.
“We’re not a couple though?” Harley stopped his spinning to stare at the other man like he had suddenly grown an extra head. Was Peter trying to…tell him something?
Peter’s blush refused to subside as he soldiered on, “Remember the IOU you gave me? Well, this is it. You are wearing this couple’s costume.” His hand was back in the pocket of his hoodie and fishing out a crumpled up piece of notebook paper.
Without warning, Peter threw the ball of paper at Harley, who caught it with ease. Harley’s heart fluttered and he wasn’t quite sure if it was in relief or disappointment at Peter’s request. He opened the piece of parchment and stared down at the hastily written IOU in his hand. As Harley scanned the document his eyes landed on his own signature, mockingly staring back at him.
“Technically, this IOU is for Spider-Man, not you.”
“I can go put on the suit and ask again, if you want.” Obstinacy briefly overtook embarrassment as Peter’s voice lost its waver. Now, he was challenging Harley with a look that belonged exclusively to Peter Parker.
Harley huffed in annoyance, “Why are you pushing this so hard? It’s just a stupid party.”
Peter bit his lip and debated his next move carefully. After a pause, the explanation came out of him in a tumble when the floodgates broke: “In the past few months, May won’t stop trying to set me up with guys. First it was her hairdresser’s son, then it was the weird guy in 313, then the lifeguard in our complex’s pool, I think there was an Uber driver at one point. The absolute worst was when she asked Happy to start looking for other superheroes for me,” a full body shudder ran through Peter at the memory, “I’m just…tired of it. So – so, uh, I might have told her I have a boyfriend already?”
“Might have told her?” Harley was slowly linking the pieces together in his mind while his expression turned to exasperation. His voice rose.
“Yeah…I might have told May I’m bringing my boyfriend to the Stark gala because she’ll be there as Happy’s plus one.”
“Oh my god Peter, why?” Harley ran a hand through his hair and let out an anguished sigh.
“I’m sorry!” Peter wailed and hung his head in his hands, “I just…I – I panicked. I didn’t know what else to do! She was fully prepared to ask a random dude to be my plus one and – and I don’t want some random guy.” He paused to look up at Harley. “Besides, I talk to May about you basically all the time, so it won’t be a surprise to her…” The tips of Peter’s were beet red. The two sat in silence.
“Fine.”
“What?” Peter’s head snapped up. Disbelief painted his features as he looked at the man across from him.
Harley was standing now and advanced toward Peter. “I’ll go to this stupid gala with you and we’ll wear the couple’s costume, but after that? You owe me. Big time.”
“Deal.”
Peter and Harley shook on it. He tried to swallow down the butterflies in his stomach and the nagging voice in his head screaming that this was a badbadbad idea . Harley’s life wasn’t some cheap rom-com; fake dating your best friend normally just led to disaster.
--
A to-go bag fell onto Peter's work bench with a lackluster ‘thud.’ Peter flinched but it wasn’t enough to make him lose focus entirely on the project at hand. As Harley moved to take a seat next to him, Peter greedily inhaled the strong aroma of Thai food.
“Got takeout on my way here. Figured we'd need it.”
Thanks to his good ol’ Spidey sense, Peter could both hear and smell Harley coming from the elevators, but kept the small fact to himself. He was working late in the lab on his suit upgrades and Harley had to cram study for a big midterm the next day. They both figured that, if they would be working well into the am, they might as well do it together.
“I'm pretty sure eating in here is a serious health hazard,” Peter joked as he moved his gadgets out of the way to accommodate Harley's schoolwork and the food.
The other man ignored him and started unpacking the brown paper bag. Soon, a slew of to-go containers had invaded the bench top. Harley handed Peter his pad thai and worked on opening his own container of druken noodles. He shoveled some food into his mouth and chewed loudly, in the way that he knew drove Peter up the walls. “So, I was thinking –”
“Wow, I'm really proud of you,” Peter quipped with an all too smug look. Harley elbowed him in the ribs before continuing.
“As I was saying before being rudely interrupted, I think we should go as Woody and Buzz Lightyear. To the gala. I can probably dig up one of my old cowboy hats.”
“Hell no.” Peter scrunched up his nose in disgust. He stabbed his fork angrily into the plastic container. “I am not perverting my childhood.”
“Fine.” Harley pouted and continued eating.
--
“Zoolander and Hansel!” Harley abruptly shot up from his horizontal position on the sofa. Peter flinched at the sudden movement when it brought the other man’s exclamation too close to his sensitive ears.
“No, Harley. I’m not going to the Stark gala dressed in a fucking leotard.”
Peter threw a pillow at Harley to emphasize his objection. The two were hunkered down in his apartment for their routine Friday night movie night. The two were doing a C-lister horror movie marathon in honor of Halloween rapidly approaching. Their companions for the evening were beer, candy, plenty of popcorn and a multitude of blankets since Peter refused to turn on the heat just yet.
“Touché.”
Harley settled back into the sectional as Peter wrapped his blanket tighter around himself. He didn’t protest when the other man started incessantly tugging at the edge of the fluffy monstrosity, and Peter certainly didn’t object to Harley joining him underneath it.
If Peter shifted a little closer to his fake boyfriend during the next jump scare, no one had to know.
--
“Should we make-up a backstory? In case anyone asks when we started dating?” Harley was munching away at his lunch while Peter sat across from him. On Tuesdays, Peter’s hour long lunch break overlapped with Harley’s gap between classes.
Peter took a long sip from his water bottle before replying, “Probably.”
“Well, we’ve known each other ever since I did the Stark internship two summers ago –”
“And Tony and Happy already know we’re friends –”
“And you told me you talk about me all the time to your Aunt May,” Harley finished their back and forth with a smug smile. Peter blushed a little upon remembering accidentally admitting that embarrassing fact earlier, when he originally asked Harley to be his fake date to the Stark gala.
“I guess we can just tell them some sappy bullshit. That we’ve been friends for a while and just realized there was something…more,” Peter highlighted the last word with a hand flourish. “I mean, we do so much together anyway. It won’t be hard to sell a fake-dating story.”
Harley shifted from across the table. “Yeah, that sounds good. How many months should we say we’ve been dating for?” He still hadn’t looked up at Peter yet, suddenly very interested in the food before him.
“Hmmm,” Peter wracked his brain for a possible date and time. Across from him, Harley was doing the same.
“Oh! I got it!” Harley looked triumphant, like a lightbulb had just turned on in his brain. He stared Peter dead in the eye. “Do you remember in August, when you got into the fight with the Green Goblin?”
Peter nodded. They would never forget the day that Spider-Man almost ceased to exist.
“We can up the drama and just say that, uh, that that day was my ‘a-ha!’ moment. After I thought I lost you I realized I didn’t want to live without you – or some other bullshit.” Harley’s tone was casual, joking even, but the sentiment was true.
On that brutal summer day, the fear of God had been instilled in Harley when he had to watch through the suit monitors as Spider-Man flatlined. As Peter Parker flat lined. The entire ordeal had sent Harley into an existential crisis he hadn’t been quite ready to confront at the time. Now, in lieu of their fake relationship, maybe it was time to open Pandora’s box.
Chancing a glance across the table at Peter, Harley could tell the other man was remembering the unpleasant events that took place in August as well. He watched as Peter swallowed thickly. “Yeah,” he spoke slowly at first, drawing out the syllables, “Yeah, that’ll definitely work.”
“Hey, do you wanna get coffee real quick before you go back to work?” Harley tried to shake off the heavy atmosphere that had settled over them. He wiped his hands on his jeans and started gathering up his trash.
Peter stood from the table while Harley mirrored him, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “Sure. I’ll buy.”
--
“So, MJ and I were brainstorming costume ideas.” Peter slid into the small booth across from Harley. He was practically bouncing with excitement and almost spilled both of their coffees onto the table as he continued sliding further inside. It was one week until the Stark gala and they were both on a time crunch now. Unceremoniously, Harley’s drink was deposited in front of him. “I think we should be Merlin and Arthur. But like, the cool version from the TV show.”
Harley worked on mopping up the stray drops of coffee that had escaped his cup before speaking, “Peter, Merlin and Arthur aren’t gay. That’s not a couple’s costume.”
“Uh, have you seen all that homoerotic subtext? I beg to differ.” Peter waved a hand dismissively, adamant that this was going to be their costume. He took a sip of his drink. “Besides, which one of us offered up Woody and Buzz Lightyear as a costume idea? Hmm?”
“Fine,” Harley yielded without much of a fight. Their time was running out to make a decision and he wasn’t completely opposed to the concept. “Then can I be Merlin?”
“What? No!” Peter pouted. He leaned in closer across the small table and lowered his voice so only Harley could hear, “Harley, I’m the one with superpowers. And a secret identity! I literally have to be Merlin. Besides, you’re not sassy enough for the costume.”
“I’m not – exCUSE me?”
--
October 31 st brought Halloween and the event that Peter had started slowly dreading: The Stark Industries gala. Was he ready to spend an entire night fake dating his best friend? Nope – but at least he’d look good doing it. Thanks to MJ’s connections in NYU’s costume design department, the duo was able to procure medieval garb for the night. Peter and Harley would look nothing short of the Prince of Camelot and his (secret wizard) manservant.
MJ snuck them in through the theater’s back door and led them through a maze of dimly lit hallways toward the dressing room. Once inside, they saw their respective costumes hanging on a rolling rack. Alone in the room, it suddenly dawned on Peter and Harley that they would have to change in front of each other. Peter flushed under the glow of the dressing room lights.
“Uh, I guess I'll just go over there and you can use that side.” Peter lamely gestured to the other end of the dressing room.
“Sure. Yeah, okay.” Harley ran a hand through his hair and swiped his outfit off of the rack.
They had seen each other in various stages of undress before. Hell, Harley and Peter even shared a room together last summer on their trip to Montreal with MJ and Ned. Nevertheless, when Peter heard the telltale sound of Harley unzipping his jeans, his heart rate accelerated. He aggressively tugged his own shirt over his head. Maybe asking Harley to fake date him wasn't the best idea, in hindsight.
“Uh, are you done?” Harley's voice broke the hush that had fallen over the room a short while later.
“Yeah,” Peter's response came out a little strangled.
After another beat of silence with nothing but the sound of rustling clothes, both men hesitantly turned to face each other. MJ came back into the room and immediately nodded her head approvingly while her gaze swiveled back and forth between the two. Expressions of awe were mirrored in both men’s eyes.
Harley was clad in chain mail, brown trousers and brown leather boots that hit the bottom of his knees. A red velvet cloak adorned his shoulders with a gold embroidered dragon over the left arm. The costume department was short on medieval crowns, so Harley had to opt for a golden laurel wreath from their performance of Antony & Cleopatra the previous spring semester . He still looked like absolute royalty when he used his full height to invoke a commanding presence.
Beside him, Peter looked as if he was born to play the role of Merlin. His usually neat, styled locks were more disheveled, and a red bandanna was tied around his neck to compliment Harley’s robe. A blue tunic top under a brown, suede jacket with breeches and matching leather boots completed the outfit.
“We look –”
“Amazing,” Peter finished for Harley. He pushed up the sleeves of his jacket and Harley eyed the web shooters on his wrists.
“What do you need those for?”
Peter grinned sheepishly. “I finished making a new web fluid that’s almost one-hundred percent invisible to the naked eye.”
“Yeah, and ?” Harley looked like he knew where the conversation was going, but was too afraid to theorize out loud.
“Well, I was thinking of having some fun with a costume tonight. To test out the formula. What’s the sense of being Merlin if I can’t fake some magic?”
“Parker, I swear to fucking God if you do anything stupid…” Harley trailed off, letting the threat speak for himself. Spider-Man’s identity wasn’t out yet to the public and they both knew how badly Peter’s prank could end.
“Relax. It’s Halloween, after all,” Peter paused before adding with a smirk, “ my lord .”
Harley pursed his lips and stiffened. Now was not the time to have an existential crisis over being in a couple’s costume with his best friend. He tried to divert his thoughts away from how much Harley enjoyed Peter’s dedication to the character.
They said their goodbyes and thanked MJ before hurrying out of the theater to catch an Uber to the gala venue. Their costumes had a brief adjustment period while both men got used to the get-up, but by the time they reached the curb, the kinks were worked out.
“You know, I actually think I look too good to be embarrassed right now.” Harley was leaning against a lamp post while they waited for their black Toyota Camry to arrive (the driver was Carlos and the license plate was GCP-4562).
“Besides, it’s Halloween,” Peter didn’t look up from his phone as he spoke, too immersed in tracking their ride. “Half the city is dressing up tonight.”
When Carlos finally showed up in his 2014 Camry, he didn’t even give Harley and Peter a second glance as they awkwardly entered his car in full costume. Peter walked around back to double check the plates while Harley was already clambering inside the vehicle. He picked up the end of Harley’s cape before it could touch the ground and tossed it into the car behind him. Rolling his eyes, Peter climbed in and joined his date for the evening.
“Hey, what are May and Happy going as?” Harley tore his eyes away from the vibrant city passing by outside to turn toward Peter.
He grimaced, face illuminated by his phone screen in the dark interior of the car. “May is a flapper and Happy is dressing up as a gangster.” Peter shoved the phone in Harley’s direction.
When Harley took the device from Peter their fingers briefly touched. He tried not to dwell on the physical contact, instead opting to actually look down at the phone screen. It was a poorly taken selfie of May and Happy in the hallway mirror of May’s apartment. Happy was dressed in a grey suit and black fedora while May wore a classic, champagne colored flapper dress with a faux fur stole and bedazzled headband.
“Damn, I hope we look this cute.” Harley chuckled and handed the phone back to Peter.
“Oh, I think we look better.”
The rest of their short Uber ride was spent in silence. The annual Stark gala was held at the Lincoln Center, and Tony’s goal every year was to outdo the Met Gala itself (though he’d never publicly admit it). When they reached their destination, Peter stepped out of the Camry first and turned to help Harley. The two took a moment to straighten out their costumes before Peter extended his hand once again. At Harley's questioning eyebrow raise, he said, “We're supposed to be a couple, remember?”
“Yeah...a couple.” Harley stared at Peter's outstretched limb for a moment longer before he took it, a tentative smile creeping onto his face.
Using Google Maps and signage, the pair navigated Lincoln Center’s campus to find the David Geffen hall. Upon entering, Peter flashed his black and gold embossed invitation. After a short escalator ride they reached the second floor and stepped into the Grand Promenade. Harley dropped Peter's hand when they reached to top to scramble for his phone. He was enamored by the décor and was intent on taking as many pictures as possible.
The interior was stunning, to say the least. Harley’s gaze didn’t know where to go first. Floor to ceiling windows were illuminated in a soft purple lighting and round tables littered the immaculate, tiled floor. The tablecloths were white and purple linen napkins were artfully placed around the tables to fit the Halloween theme. Black chairs completed the dining decor. Harley’s head swiveled as he tried to find the source of the music playing. In the middle of the hall against one of the windows was a stage illuminated by hanging lights. A select quartet from the New York Philharmonic was playing a repertoire of classical music.
“Holy shit,” Harley murmured under his breath.
Peter nodded his head, agreeing. The elaborate décor made him feel a tad ridiculous in a Halloween costume versus a three-piece suit. From the corner of his eye, Peter observed a slew of similarly costumed guests making their way through the open veranda doors and onto the adjoining portico. It appeared there was a cocktail reception before the gala dinner.
Harley gently tugged at the sleeve of his jacket to guide him outside. On the balcony, tuxedo clad waiters were walking around with trays of hors d’oeuvres, but Peter only had eyes for the drinks floating around. He raised a hand to beckon the wait staff over but was suddenly struck by an idea. Covertly raising both hands, Peter took aim at two champagne flutes on the server’s tray. He waited until the man was looking the other direction before striking.
Effortlessly, Peter plucked two glasses off of the tray in less time than it took the server to rotate his head back around. Aside from losing some of the precious alcohol during recovery, he would count the maneuver as a success.
“For you, my lord.” Peter extended a flute to Harley in a dramatic flourish. His smile was all teeth.
Harley’s lips twitched in an effort to suppress a grin, but otherwise he seemed unaffected. From the corner of his eye, he could see the server looking at a decidedly less full serving tray with a furrowed brow. Harley took a sip from his glass.
“Tastes like…money.” Harley licked his lips, savoring the expensive drink.
Peter laughed and knocked his flute back in one go, placing the empty glass on a nearby table. The two made their way toward the glass railings and stared out into the night. They were greeted with a panoramic view of Lincoln Center’s campus. Looking down, they could see the plaza and a large stone fountain. It was illuminated an icy blue in the glow of the fountain lights.
“Damn, Stark really went all out for this.” Harley whistled as he took in the sights.
Peter felt two, light taps on his shoulder and turned. Immediately, he was enveloped in a tight hug by May. “Oh, honey you look great!” She squealed while she took a step back to give Peter's full outfit a once over. “Did you get the selfie I sent of Happy and I?”
Peter cringed a little when May said 'selfie' but masked it with a smile, “Yeah, you guys look really good! Where is Happy, anyway?”
“Oh, he's off getting us drinks.” May waved her hand absentmindedly and flipped her long hair over her shoulder. Her gaze drifted behind Peter. “Oh! This handsome man must be Harley!”
He too was scooped up into a tight hug before Harley could even get a word out. “Yes, ma'am,” he said while May’s arms constricted around him, “Peter talks about you all the time, and it's really nice to finally meet you!”
When May released him she turned back to Peter, one arm still around Harley's shoulders. “Honey, you never told me your boyfriend was so cute!” She turned to wink at Harley, who gave her a charming smile in return.
“Yeah, he's pretty great.” Peter came up beside him and intertwined their hands once more. The sincerity in the look that he gave Harley was almost too overwhelming for the moment.
“Here ya go, bunny.” Happy returned and handed May a champagne flute. May paled at the pet name while Peter blanched, and Happy realized a moment too late that they had an audience. When his gaze locked on Harley his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Peter, this is your boyfriend? Harley is your boyfriend?”
Happy choked back a sip of his champagne while Peter flushed red and started shifting from foot to foot. “Ye - yeah. It's, uh, pretty new, which is why we didn't tell you. We didn't want it to be...uh...”
“A conflict of interest!” Harley butt in from beside Peter. He maneuvered his hand out of Peter’s and slid it around the shorter man’s waist like they’d done it a million times before. “We’ve known each other for so long that we didn’t want to make it official until we were sure.” The words felt bitter as they rolled off his tongue. Harley was just doing his friend a solid to help him out of a jam. A favor. A debt.
So why did his heart ache so much the more he hammered in their elaborate lie?
Happy shook his head in disbelief while May filled the silence between them, “Well, Harley, you should have Peter bring you over sometime for dinner.”
“You mean take-out,” Peter said teasingly as May lightly slapped him on the arm. They both knew that she couldn’t cook, but seldom did either of them bring it up.
May rolled her eyes at her nephew. “Take-out, sure. Regardless, Harley, you really should come around soon! I’ve been waiting so long for Peter to finally bring someone home.”
While Peter was busy doing his best impression of a tomato, someone jostled May and sent her empty champagne glass hurtling toward the tile floor. Without thought, Peter took aim and retrieved her glass in one fluid motion. To any observer who wasn’t Harley, it looked like he had called the flute to him with the flick of his wrist. Conversation stopped and three pairs of eyes turned to Peter.
“Did you just –” May trailed off as she continued staring in disbelief at the glass in her nephew’s hand.
“Well, he is Merlin after all.” Harley threw her a mischievous smile while Peter set the glass down on a nearby tray table. He pressed a hand to the small of Peter’s back and, after a few hurried goodbyes, ushered both of them away from a perplexed Happy and May.
Once out of earshot, Peter started giggling. Harley looked down at the other man. “It’s your funeral if you get caught,” his voice was stern but the lopsided grin on his face gave him away. As the two moved toward the other end of the balcony, they passed a woman holding a professional camera. She looked to be only in her early thirties.
“Hey,” the woman gently grabbed Harley by the cape to stop him from walking away, “I’m with the Times and we’re running an article on the Stark gala. I need some shots for it. Do you two mind? Love your costumes by the way.” She ran a hand down the velvet material of Harley’s cape. “Arthur and Merlin? How cute.”
Peter was tempted to correct her that they weren’t cute but medieval and manly, thank you very much. He didn’t though and instead turned toward Harley. They exchanged glances, holding a silent conversation. ‘I’m fine with it if you are,’ Harley said with his eyes. ‘Might as well, right?’ Peter answered with a tentative smile.
“Sure,” Peter said as he turned to face the reporter. His voice wavered a bit and he tried to push the nerves away. At least the photo would really sell their fake dating story.
The trio moved to stand against the glass railings of the balcony so she could get an unobstructed shot. While the woman adjusted her lens, Harley and Peter worked out their pose. Peter hesitated for an instant and Harley took his lapse in movement as an opportunity to draw him closer with a firm grip on his waist. One hand strayed a little lower to splay across his hip, and a thumb comfortingly rubbed over Peter’s hipbone.
“You need to relax. You’re stiffer than a board,” Harley’s warm breath ghosted over the shell of his ear. Peter shivered and it wasn’t from the cold.
He took a few deep breaths and slowly relaxed his shoulders. The woman raised her camera to begin taking photos. Peter smiled and tilted his head in, what he hoped was, a photogenic angle. He focused on the camera in front of him and pointedly ignored the feeling of a firm chest pressed against his back. The moment was shockingly intimate for a photo-op.
As the woman snapped her last few pictures, Peter couldn’t help himself. He turned his head upward to look at Harley and found the other’s gaze already trained down on him. The sound of a camera shutter shattered the moment.
“Thanks for the photos! You two look great, seriously.” With a wave the woman disappeared into the crowd once more.
Peter stepped away from Harley and put some room between them. He readjusted his scarf while Harley smoothed out his cape. They linked hands once again and slowly made their way back inside, where dinner and a long night of speeches was about to commence. Before they could enter the ballroom though, Harley suddenly yanked Peter by the hand off to the side against the balcony.
“Wha –” Peter’s back hit the railing and he sharply exhaled. Before he could finish his thought, Harley crowded against him and pressed their lips together in a soft kiss. Caught by surprise, Peter involuntarily parted his lips against the swipe of Harley’s tongue. The other man pulled back and the moment was over before Peter’s brain could even register it.
“Happy and May saw us. Didn’t want them to doubt anything,” Harley whispered into Peter’s ear as he practically dragged the shorter man back inside.
Peter dumbly nodded in response while he slowly processed the words coming out of Harley’s mouth. His walk was clumsy and he didn’t know where Harley was taking them, or if the other man even knew what table they were supposed to be seated at. All Peter knew was that the dynamics of their relationship had irrevocably changed, and it scared him how elated he was at the fact.
--
The following Monday found Peter hunched over his lab bench. His magnifying goggles were squeezing his skull uncomfortably while he used tweezers to align the parts in front of him. Peter didn’t dare breathe as he prepared to fuse the two pieces of metal back together. The parts were virtually microscopic and one false step would misalign them once again.
Of course, in true Tony Stark fashion, he chose the exact moment that Peter moved to line up the gizmos to burst into his lab.
Peter jumped a foot in the air and nearly dropped the tweezers in his hands. Only quick, Spidey reflexes saved the day. “Mr. Stark!” He squawked while hurriedly shoving his goggles up onto his head.
Tony smiled down at Peter as he walked toward his lab bench. The expression the older man wore said ‘I’m about to ruin your entire day’, but with more affection. “I hope you enjoyed my gala on Saturday.”
“Yeah, it was really nice! I thought the costumes would be weird, but everyone there had a great time. And all the people put way more effort into their costumes than I thought they would – but, I guess if you’re rich why not?” Peter continued talking a mile a minute and Tony had no time to interject. “Also, your speech at the end was amazing – you definitely deserved the standing ovation. The decorations were superb too and the food was great! I tried to sneak some home at the end of the night, but May stopped me before –”
“Alright, alright!” Tony held a hand up and exclaimed sharply, “I get it, kid – you had a great time.”
Peter stopped mid-sentence and took a deep breath, making up for the oxygen that his comprehensive review of the Stark gala had stolen from his lungs. “Sorry, Mr. Stark.”
“Geez, it’s fine. Also, I’ve been telling you for six years now to please call me Tony.” It was at this point in the conversation that Tony dropped a copy of the New York Times in front of Peter. He dumbly stared down at the front cover splayed before him. They had printed a full, front page spread about the gala.
“When were you gonna tell me that you and Sweet Home Alabama were dating?”
Peter paled and stammered out, “Wha – what do you mean?”
“Turn to A3.” Tony tapped on the front page of the paper as he fixed Peter with a glare over the rims of his glasses.
Very slowly, Peter did as instructed and turned the page over. The pit of his stomach filled with dread at each crinkle that the newspaper emitted. During the gala, Tony and Pepper had been engaged at almost every waking moment, so he and Harley never had an opportunity to talk to the couple. Peter thought that it was divine intervention that saved them the heartache of stumbling over their fake meet-cute.
Now, looking down at the damning evidence in front of him, Peter knew that there would never be a reprieve. Printed off to the right side of the paper, smack in the middle of the continued Stark gala article, was a 2x3 inch full color shot of Peter and Harley.
Tony leaned against the bench to face Peter. “You two look cozy.”
“Um…” After the fake-dating debacle and without Harley by his side, Peter wasn’t sure where to go with the conversation.
“Gotta say, I hoped you two would hit it off back when Harley first moved to New York, but this wasn’t quite what I had in mind.” Tony clapped Peter on the back as he scooped up the newspaper from the bench top. “I’m not surprised though. I think I’ve found him helping you in the lab more times than your actual lab assistant. That I pay to assist you.”
“Yeah, uh, it just sort of…happened,” Peter lamely responded while he ran a hand through his curls.
“As long as you don’t defile the lab, besmirch my name or generate any bad press, you have my blessing.” Tony was already halfway out the door while Peter burned red with embarrassment. He wished the floor would swallow him whole.
“Don’t forget to use protection!” Even though Tony was halfway down the hall, Peter’s super-hearing still caught his words crystal clear.
Was it too late to launch himself out of the 85 th floor?
After making sure Tony was long gone, Peter sped walked out of the lab and shut himself into the nearest broom closet. He fumbled around in the dark to take out his cell phone, not even bothering to turn on the overhead light.
“Come on, come on…” Peter mumbled to himself as the dial tone rang and rang.
“Hey, loser.” MJ picked up on the last ring right before the call went to voicemail.
“MJ, are Harley and I dating?”
“Good morning to you too, Peter.”
“No, I’m serious!” His voice rose an octave, embarrassingly. MJ snickered on the other end of the line.
“Peter, who do you have lunch with every Tuesday?”
“Harley.”
“And who do you have dinner with on Thursdays?”
“Harley.”
“And movie nights every Friday? Alone. With no one else?” The exasperation was evident in her voice.
“Harley,” The name came out of Peter’s mouth slower this time. He could hear MJ typing away on her laptop in the background.
“Who do you call whenever you’re in trouble? Or having a bad day? Or –”
“Okay, okay! I get it!” Peter cut her off, gesturing wildly even though he was alone in the janitor’s closet.
“I think you know the answer, then.” MJ abruptly ended the call and Peter was plunged into complete darkness. He sighed.
When he was about to step out into the hallway, his phone screen lit up. An email. Opening it, Peter saw that there was no body or subject line, just ten attachments. They were all of the pictures that the photographer had taken of Peter and Harley at the Stark gala.
Peter swiped through them briefly and found himself fixated on the last photo. His finger hovered over the screen as an internal war raged on inside of him between exiting the Gmail app completely and saving the photo. On the screen in stark, high-definition was a picture of Harley looking down at Peter while he stared up at the other man adoringly. Their expressions and body language looked too genuine to be fake, and too candid to be staged. They say a picture is worth a thousand words.
After another moment of hesitation, Peter saved the picture to his phone and exited the closet. He briefly composed himself in the hallway before making his way back to the lab.
--
It was Tuesday and Peter was sitting across from Harley for their weekly lunch. The latter was typing away on his laptop finishing up a lab report while Peter idly sketched out weapon designs. He was attempting to dabble in retractable blasters like the Iron Man suit had. The work was nice; it gave Peter an excuse for silence. He and Harley had texted at their normal frequency post-Stark gala, but this was their first time talking face to face since then.
“Would you stop that!”
Peter jumped at Harley’s outburst while the other man snatched the pen from Peter’s hand. Apparently, Peter had been clicking the writing utensil incessantly without realizing it. “S – sorry,” Peter stammered out while Harley threw the plastic back at him. It bounced harmlessly against his sweater before falling onto the table.
“God, I can practically hear you thinking from here,” The other man didn’t look up from his computer screen while he spoke to Peter.
“Harley, are we dating?”
A long silence stretched between the two as Harley slowly closed his laptop. Peter could hear the other man’s heart rate speed up and tried his hardest not to hope. Harley gingerly pushed the device out of his way before speaking, “Is this about the Stark gala? Because I saw the newspaper article.”
“No. Well, yes. But no –” Peter gave a frustrated huff.
“Smooth, Parker.”
Peter scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s just…no one was surprised,” he looked over at Harley with a sheepish expression, “that you were my boyfriend. I talked to MJ and she told me – in very few words – that we were dating way before we ever started fake dating.”
Harley sighed, “Yeah, Abi sent me a screenshot of our picture from an online article with a text that said ‘finally.’”
“Ned sent me a snapchat of our picture in the Times with a thumbs up emoji.”
“May friended me on Facebook.”
“Tony gave us his blessing,” Peter hid his face in his hands. His cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment while he remembered the conversation.
“Well, if the old man gave us his blessing I guess it’s decided. We have to go on a real date now.”
Peter abruptly dropped his hands and stared at Harley, a tad incredulous. “Are you serious about this?”
“Well, considering you’re supposed to be my boyfriend of two whole months and we’ve already had our first kiss, I think it’s safe to say that I’m serious.” Harley laughed and reached for Peter’s hand where it rested on the table. “I’d really like to date you, Peter Parker.”
Peter smiled before impulsively leaning across the table. He used his grip on Harley’s hand as leverage to pull him closer for another kiss. A real one, this time.