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Parties at the Parker residence were formal, at best. The two story modern was usually bombarding with men and women in fancy attire, sipping delicately from pristine glasses as they small talked their way through the crowd.
The people always talked about the same three subjects: work, family, and charity. Peter learned to know quite a bit about the individuals who attended, since the Parker's insisted on having each and every work function in the lower realms of their home. Every holiday, every charity gala, every few months, Peter would see the same, boring faces again, having conversations identical to the ones held at each party before.
Peter wondered if these types of parties were just plain dull, or something that he'd grow to love when he got older. Nonetheless, it sucked being the only teenager in a room full of suited adults. So Peter spent his time as a wallflower, attempting to shy himself away to avoid having to socialize with the tedious bunch.
Thankfully, the history books failed to repeat themselves on the Christmas of 1967.
The party was into full swing when Norman Osborn, family friend and colleague of Richard and Mary Parker, entered the building, but he was not alone. Trailing behind Mr. Osborn was his son, Harry.
Harry and Peter were old friends. Beside the fact that they attended school together, Mr. Osborn would bring Harry along to the Parker's home when they had small family and friend events. Unfortunately, this excluded parties, and Mr. Osborn always showed up alone.
Except for tonight, that is.
Peter spotted Harry right off the bat, his mood suddenly taking a turn for the best. Harry was at least five inches taller than he was when Peter last saw him, and his face had grown more mature. Harry's golden hair was swept across his forehead, right above his eyebrows that framed his icy blue eyes. Peter sucked in a breath, feeling that time had frozen. Old feelings revived from the pit of Peter's stomach, a mix of butterflies and nervousness that Peter always used to get for Harry when he was younger.
For the first time that night, Peter left the comfort of the refreshment table to get Harry to notice him. Peter beelined through the horde, his eyes set on Harry. When Peter got within earshot, he called out, "Harry!"
Harry's eyes scanned the crowd, stopping when he saw Peter staring back at him. Harry smiled as Peter waved him over. Peter watched Harry ask his father for approval to go and hang out with Peter. Mr. Osborn wasn't pleased at first, but when he glanced at Peter and saw his hopeful expression, he waved Harry off.
"Funny to see you at one of these parties," Peter said, trying to contain his happiness, "Why haven't you come to one before?"
Harry shrugged, "Didn't think anyone interesting would be here until father informed me that you stuck around. So I thought, it's Christmas, I'm home from boarding school, and Peter's going to be there, why the hell not?"
"Well I'm glad you came. If not, I probably would have been lingering by the snack table all night!" Peter said jokingly, even though it was the truth.
"I don't doubt it," Harry beamed, the crinkles by his eyes becoming more prominent, "Parties like this always blow. Even on Christmas." Then a familiar look of mischief flashed across Harry's face, and by that face, Peter knew that Harry had an idea.
"Why don't we have a party of our own?" Harry smirked, "Just the two of us. We could go hang out by your old playground set and have a lot more fun than we would here."
Peter tapped his chin thoughtfully, then said, "Let's do it. C'mon, let's leave before anyone notices."
With that, the two slipped out the front door and into the brisk December weather. A dark fog hung over the neighborhood like a blessing, masking the dim light of the sole streetlamp across the road. The weather was perfect for the winter season, and even more so for the Christmas holiday.
The secluded playground sat directly across the street, barely visible through the mist and the light snowfall. It wasn't far away, but the winter temperatures made the journey seem like it was miles away.
The walk to the play area was quiet, yet peaceful at the same time. Neither Harry or Peter said a word, letting the sounds of their breathing and the sloshing of their shoes in the mush be enough. It had been a while since they last talked. After Norman shipped Harry off to boarding school, they both promised to keep contact, but after a couple of years, the phone calls became more distant and eventually, they just stopped coming. Peter hoped that their friendship would start to unravel again, and they could go back to being friends just like old times.
When they finally crossed the street, Harry headed straight for the swings, shaking the seat free of snow before he sat down. Peter lingered around Harry, holding onto the bar that kept the swings in tact.
"So, how's boarding school holding up for you? Still as torturous as you seemed to think back then?" Peter asked, keeping himself on thin ice.
Harry waved Peter off, "Miserable. I'd rather not speak of it while I'm away from it." Harry reverted his focus away from Peter as he dug something out of his coat pocket. He pulled out a cigarette cartridge and a lighter. Peter whttp://archiveofourown.org/works/2252412/editatched as Harry pulled a single cigarette from the rectangular box and put it between his lips.
"Want a smoke?" Harry offered, his enunciation limited due to the cigarette being between his puffy, pink lips.
"No thanks, I don't really smoke," Peter declined politely.
"Come on, Pete, it's 1967. It's not going to hurt you." Harry stated, flicking the lighter and letting a flame flare up. Peter watched intently as Harry cupped his hand around the cigarette and lit it, taking a first drag in seconds. The smoke rolled off Harry's lips when he exhaled, visibly rising in the air until it abruptly vanished. Watching Harry do something as simple as smoking sent chills down Peter's spine.
Harry met Peter's eyes again, raising an eyebrow. "You sure look like you want one."
Peter shook his head and cleared his throat, "I don't. You just look really, I don't know, picture worthy when you smoke."
"You're still into photography then," Harry smiles, taking the cigarette from his mouth.
"I am," Peter nods, "You got me my first camera almost ten Christmases ago."
"That long?" Harry asks in disbelief, "Insane how fast time passes when I'm not here." Harry mumbled, taking another huff from the cigarette.
"Hey," Peter said, pushing the snow off of the swing as he took the seat next to Harry, "You haven't missed much. I'm exactly the same, you haven't changed. None of the people inside of my house right now matter enough." Peter joked, hoping to wash away the guilt of ignoring Harry to save himself.
Harry rolled his eyes, trying to conceal his small grin. "I guess you're right. It's just a little overwhelming to be back here and have everyone be so different."
Silence draped over them as Harry finished his cigarette. He tossed the butt into the snow, and the both of them watched it get sucked into the white blanket.
"Instead of dwelling on what I haven't been here for," Harry broke the silence, making eye contact with Peter for the first time in a few minutes, "Tell me what's going on with you right now. You got a lady?"
"Uh, that's a question," Peter stifled out nervously, "It's, I don't know. It's complicated."
"Yeah, I don't do complicated." Harry smirked, a glimmer in his icy eyes. "Who is she?"
Peter hesitated. The person Peter was talking about wasn't exactly a 'she', and the person he was talking to was the one he'd been attempting to mask his love for all these years.
"Peter?" Harry asked, tilting his head to the right, "You zoned out on me."
"Did I? Sorry," Peter answered shortly.
"Are you hiding something? It's the first time we've talked in months and you're still closing yourself off. It's okay, Pete, it's just me." Harry frowned.
Peter felt guilty for hiding it, and seeing Harry upset right now made the situation even worse. Peter exhaled heavily, deciding that he had Harry where he wanted him right now, and that he could either tell him in this moment, or he could possibly lose his chance for years again.
Deciding that Peter wasn't going to let Harry slip through his fingers again, he quickly responded, "It's you. It always has been, and that's why it's complicated."
"But it doesn't have to be, Peter." Harry grinned.
"You're never here! Of course it's going to be complicated, Harry. Don't act like it wouldn't be hard if anything ever happened between us."
"What if it already has?" Harry asked, "What if I told you that I felt the same, and that it hasn't been complicated for me?"
"I wouldn't talk to you for days. I didn't even know you'd be back. How could you feel the same?"
"How could you?" Harry questioned rhetorically. "That's the past, and even though I missed you when I was gone, what if I told you that I was coming back?" Harry announced, and Peter stared at him in disbelief. "I'm finishing school here in New York. At Midtown High, with you."
Peter was stunned. Within the last hour, all of his work to sew together the seams that had been ripped out when Harry had left were now coming undone again, and Peter was once again left hopelessly in love with Harry.
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Peter asked, "Why didn't you tell me you loved me before? I spent all of these years trying to force myself to forget you when all I wanted to do was remember you."
"So many questions, you haven't changed a bit." Harry smiled, "I didn't tell you because I didn't think you felt the same. You kept pushing me away but that only made me want you more. I thought you had replaced me, and that there was someone else."
"There isn't someone else, and there never will be. It's always going to be you." Peter confirmed.
"Then what the hell are you waiting for, Parker?" Harry laughed, "Kiss me already."
Peter obliged, leaning forward in his swing over to Harry. The kiss was a tangle of limbs and swing set chains, but nonetheless, it was enough to heat them up on the chilly Christmas night. Harry tasted like a mix of cigarette smoke and candy canes, and somehow it was completely him. All of the longing and waiting that Peter had been hiding for all lost time was worth it when his lips were moving rhythmically with Harry's.
Harry was the first to pull away. His lips were puffy and his cheeks were bright pink, partially from their prolonged make out session and the winter weather. Peter thought he looked beautiful.
"So is this it? Are you done being complicated?" Harry joked, his wit still strong.
Peter nodded, and lunged at Harry for another kiss.
Maybe these parties wouldn't be so bad anymore.