Work Text:
The doorbell rang.
Harley smiled, softly, and paused his horror movie marathon—though the distinction between one movie and the next had blurred somewhere between the third Saw and the fifth. He shook his head, grabbed the candy bowl, and opened the door.
“Trick or treat!”
Peter Parker grinned back at him. Face painted white, a tacky black-and-red—plastic?—cape draped over his shoulder, paired with a white renaissance shirt and red vest—Harley raised an eyebrow.
“And who’re you supposed to be?” he drawled.
“A vampire. Obviously.” Peter opened his mouth to show off an impressive set of fangs—more convincing than the rest of his costume, surely. They looks like they tapered into a wicked point. Harley couldn’t see where they attached or glued on, either.
“Nice teeth,” he said, “but aren’t you a little old?”
Peter bit his lip, trying to muffle his snorts, but laughed despite his efforts. Harley waited, expectant. “Sorry,” Peter managed. “Inside joke. But no one’s too old for Halloween, right?”
“I think a good number of folks would disagree with you.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Do you think I’m too old to trick-or-treat?”
Harley hummed. “Depends.” He smiled. Looked Peter up and down—the costume might not be flattering, but Harley had seen him in rain-soaked clothes, had seen him weld and beat metal into shape— “What’s the trick?”
Peter blinked. He studied Harley’s face. “Well,” he started, and grinned— “You could invite me inside and I could show you.”
Harley swung the door open and gestured Peter inside. “C’mon in then, Count Dracula. It’d be lovely to host you. I was just watchin’ a horror movie, if you’d like to join.”
Peter smirked, crossing the threshold and letting Harley shut the door behind him. “I thought you wanted me to show you the trick.”
“I thought that was just a line to get in my house.” Harley raised an eyebrow. “Were you not flirtin’ with me, Parker?”
“Oh, I was,” Peter purred, crowding Harley against the wall. “But not to just watch crappy horror movies with you.”
“I’ll have you know, despite the rumors, I am not an easy man, and horror movie night dates are a requirement durin’ October—”
“Next year, then,” Peter conceded. “For now, though …” He smiled, lips against Harley’s throat. “You wanted to know the trick?”
Harley shivered beneath Peter’s mouth. Holy shit. Sure, of course, he’d seen how cute Peter could be—excited by chemistry, brilliant in engineering, his little pout when the solution to a problem wasn’t immediately evident and then the light in his eyes when he did figure it out—but Harley had never expected—this.
“Yes,” he whispered.
Peter chuckled. “Just like that?” he asked. He pressed his lips to Harley’s pulse. Scratched a fang down his throat.
“I just said I wasn’t easy, Parker.”
“Of course not, sweetheart. I’m just surprised. Expected a couple more questions, at least.” Peter kissed the hollow between his neck and shoulder. “Don’t you think it’s a little dangerous to invite a vampire inside?”
Harley laughed.
But Peter stood against him, unmoving, cold, and Harley noticed he couldn’t even feel Peter breathing against his throat.
His mouth ran dry.
“No way.” Peter smiled and ran his teeth over Harley’s collarbone, pushing his sleeve out of the way. Harley shuddered, heart pounding in his ears. “Holy shit,” he breathed.
He swallowed. And tipped his head back further.
Peter looked at him, an eyebrow raised. “You’re sure?”
“… I trust you. You wouldn’t wanna even hurt a fly.”
Peter’s eyes widened. He blinked. Kissed up to Harley’s jaw. “You’re something else, Harley Keener.”
“And you’re—” His words cut off as Peter nipped his ear. He bit his way down Harley’s neck, earning a small gasp each time.
“You like that?” he murmured. Kissed over each bite to soothe it.
Oh, God. “You’re gonna be the death of me, darlin’.” Harley closed his eyes.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Peter whispered against Harley’s skin, breath cool. Goosebumps raised down Harley’s neck. He shivered. Peter smiled. “Sometimes, you just—look so good, so cute, that I think about hiding you away from everything, everyone who looks at you and doesn’t appreciate you—” He brought his mouth to Harley’s with a smirk. “And sometimes I’m much more selfish. Sometimes, I want to make sure nobody else can look at you. You don’t seem to notice, but I do.” Peter kissed along Harley’s jaw. “You can captivate any room you walk into.”
Harley smiled. “Possessive much?” he teased. Peter chuckled and sucked under his ear, leaving a mark.
“You seem to enjoy it,” he purred. Harley swallowed, arching into Peter’s touch. “So, until I hear you complain about it, I think I’ll keep it up.”
“Possessive over something that’s not even yours?” Harley continued, voice breathy. Peter bit the juncture between his neck and shoulder. Harley gasped and shuddered against him.
“Not even mine?” Peter repeated. “Want me to pick you flowers and ask you to be my boyfriend?”
“Flowers not required.”
Peter snorted. “But the boyfriend part is?”
Harley frowned. He twisted his head away to look at Peter. “I don’t do flings.”
“I never said you did.”
“If you don’t want this to be serious—”
“I never said that, either.” Peter fixed his eyes on Harley’s. “What do you want, Harley?”
He flushed. “Somethin’ steady too much to ask for?”
“Of course not.” Peter kissed Harley’s cheek, gentle, soft—a stark contrast to the bites from moments before. “I just needed to know what you want. With that out of the way …” He smiled. “Harley Keener, will you be my boyfriend?”
Harley smiled, too, and rolled his eyes. He gave Peter a small peck on the lips. “Yes.” Peter kissed him again. “That does mean horror movies are a Halloween requirement for us,” Harley said. “And we’re gonna talk ‘bout how old you are—”
“I was turned, like, four months ago, it’s no big deal—”
“An’ if your bites leave bruises, people will ask—”
“Babe, that’s hardly even a problem. We just tell the truth.” Peter smirked. “You’ve got a biting kink.”
Harley spluttered. “That’s not—I don’t—that—Peter!”
He laughed. Kissed Harley again. And again. Took his lower lip between his teeth and bit, just on the other side of gentle. Harley whined, the sound half stuck in his throat. “I told you.”
“… fine.”
“Don’t pout. We can go sit on your couch and make out with your horror movies on in the background until more trick-or-treaters come by.”
“You’re answerin’ the door if you leave marks.”
“I’ll answer the door, then.”