Archive of Our Own

Harley never planned to be the lead. If anything, it was thrust upon him by surprise.

Midtown Tech was not the biggest school for the arts. It lacked in that department, almost as much as it lacked in athletics. So, when Harley was cornered by the drama teacher who had heard him humming a tune from Bridges of Madison County in the lunch line who demanded he audition for the spring musical, he couldn’t just say no.

It was his first year at Midtown, and he really didn’t want to have the same reputation he had back in Rose Hill: the gay theatre kid.

But, there he was, standing in line with enthusiastic sopranos belting as loud as they physically could to “Part of Your World” and too bright mezzos attempting the villainous sound of “Poor Unfortunate Souls.”

Harley was never the kind of guy who went for leads. It wasn’t his M.O. Back at his old school, he was content with the supporting role. His resume was pretty standard.

In his first show, Tarzan , he played Turk, Tarzan’s ape best friend. His legs were in the best shape they had ever been after that show. After traveling in the “ape walk” of constant squat, his legs were toned but also perpetually sore.

In Shrek he played Lord Farquaad. At this point he had hit his growth spurt and this was just the sequel to his leg pain. Traveling on his knees for the comedic height, he was able to hit the iconic “Defying Gravity” parody call at the end of his main song.

Then, he closed his theatre career at James Agee High with his role as Bill in Mamma, Mia. He still laughs at the horribly Tennessee censorship of “Take A Chance On Me” with the grueling PG choreography between him and a girl who obviously wanted to do more with him.

Harley was always a comedic actor. He had the comedic timing and loved making the audience laugh. So, to his dismay and horror, when the The Little Mermaid cast list came out, he did not get Chef Louis, but instead, Eric, AKA, the leading man.

“One hundred lines? One hundred lines? ” Harley buried his face in his hands as he finished making his rehearsal Quizlet. “How am I going to memorize all of this?”

“You’re gonna get it, Harley,” Abby said. “You’ve had big roles before.”

“But not this big,” Harley groaned.

“You’ll figure it out.”

.-~*~-.

It was the first rehearsal, and Harley felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb. Due to the lack of guys in the theatre department, most male characters were genderbent, leaving the cast with a whopping three guys.

King Triton hated Harley’s guts for getting Eric. Apparently he was the guy who would get all the leads before Harley and he was not happy that this new kid stole his shining senior role.

Sebastian was a Freshman who all the girls fawned over. He was too busy flirting with the underclassman to even talk to Harley.

And the girls? Well they were all enamored by the fresh meat, and that is why Harley was avoiding them like the plague.

Settling in the circle next to Ariel and the stage manager, he shyly flipped through his lines again, making sure he was familiar with all of them.

“You’re Harley, right?” Ariel asked him.

“Uh, yeah. That’s me,” he responded awkwardly.

“I’m Betty.” She held out a hand to shake. “And that’s Michelle.”

“Sup?” Michelle said with a slight head tilt.

“Is this your first show?” Betty asked.

“First one here. I did them at my old school,” Harley replied, fiddling with his fingers.

“Ah, new to Midtown Productions then. Everyone takes it a little too serious, just gotta warn you. King Triton over there wants to go to AMDA for musical theatre performance, but everyone knows he wouldn’t last a day if he got in. He’s got some major diva attitude and tends to run really flat.”

“I thought he’s only had leads?” Harley said confused.

“Yeah, because there was no other guy but him in the department. When he played Beast in Beauty and the Beast, Delilah Fisher had to crossdress as Gaston.”

“At my old school, we almost had to double cast the dads in Mamma Mia so there’d only be two dads.”

“But that makes no sense.”

“Exactly.”

They both laughed. 

“Alright, alright! Settle down everyone! Rehearsal has now begun,” Mrs. Cormier, their director, announced. “We are going to start with headshots and measurements. Get in alphabetical order and take your headshot then head into the hall for measurements. Girls with Petunia and guys with Kevin.”

In the line, Harley was behind Michelle. “So, uh, have you always been stage manager?” 

She turned around. “I’m also the set paint lead. I used to just do the rock in the front of the school, but then they called me in to do sets, and then somehow I became the lead of that. When they saw how organized I was, they practically begged me to take over for the senior that graduated for this show.”

Harley nodded slowly. “Well, that’s, uh, cool.”

“Have you always been an actor?” she asked.

“I got into it when I was in high school. We were required to take an elective and we didn’t have any STEM electives so… theatre.”

“Well, you must be good.”

He furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you got Eric. Must be pretty decent.”

He chuckled. “Oh yeah. Right. I guess so.”

“You seem pretty out of your element. You’re like in complete distress.”

“I’m not… distressed,” Harley said, not very convincingly.

“For an actor, you’re a lousy liar.”

“It’s just all really new.”

“You get used to it,” she said with a shrug. 

“Next!” The photographer called.

“That’s my cue.”

“You gonna smile this time?” The curly haired brunette behind the camera asked with a teasing tone.

“I am. On the inside.”

He rolled his eyes with a light-hearted laugh. “Alright. Say cheese.”

“I’m not gonna say cheese.”

“Yeah, I know.” With a few clicks on his camera, he smiled in satisfaction. “Alright. You’re good. Next!”

As Harley sat on the stool and took a look at the photographer, he felt his eyes widened and jaw slightly drop. Who is he and how the hell does he manage to be the hottest guy I’ve ever seen and also have the cutest, most perfect, precious smile in the world?

“Can you turn your body a little to the left?” He asked.

Harley nodded mindlessly and turned. 

“Alright, that’s great! Now turn your head towards me. Just look into the lens and give me a big smile!” Click, click, click. “Perfect. Very photogenic. You’re good. Next!”

Harley floated to the hall, his gaze wandering back to the photographer who joked with the different cast and crew members.

“Who is that?” Harley asked out loud.

“That’s Peter Parker. He’s the theatre photographer. He comes does all the promotion photos and stuff for the shows,” Michelle replied.

“So he’s gonna be at rehearsals?”

“Mhm,” she said with a nod. “He loves getting candids.”

"Huh," Harley said, cogs turning in his mind. "Good to know."

.-~*~-.

The first real rehearsal Harley was called to was vocals for the first three scenes. When he had finished Fathoms Below, he was released for the day, but he couldn’t help but be drawn by Peter Parker who relaxed in the corner of the choir room, waiting for the next song.

“Hey,” Harley said quietly.

“O-oh, hi,” Peter replied, jumping slightly from being so concentrated on his laptop.

“I just wanted to come hang out with you. Figured you were a little bored over here.”

“It’s fine,” Peter replied. “Usually I get a few good pics in the beginning and end of the song and hang out and get some homework done in the meantime.”

“How do you not lose your mind hearing these songs on repeat for two hours?”

“Oh I do, but I’ve gotten very good at blocking it out after a while.”

Harley snorted, covering his mouth in embarrassment. 

Peter laughed, but cut himself off quickly when the mersisters looked at him with annoyance. “Sorry! Sorry.” He turned back to Harley. “You’re really good.”

Harley shook his head bashfully. “This definitely not what I’m used to.”

“Not much of the princely love interest kind of guy?” Peter asked.

Harley nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. I’m more of the ‘over-the-top comedic relief’ kind of guy.”

“A lot of it comes with being comfortable. Comedic roles are usually really different from yourself and that’s what makes them so easy to get into character for, but more human roles are more like you, and it’s harder to find that balance between yourself and the character.” Peter pulled at his sweater sleeves. “If you ever want to run lines with someone, I’m usually doing nothing on weekends.”

“I just may have to take you up on that offer,” Harley said.

“How’s Saturday sound?”

“I think that sounds perfect.”

.-~*~-.

The days dragged as he waited for Saturday to arrive. On Wednesday they blocked his song, but he couldn’t stick around to flirt talk to Peter due to a Physics packet and Calculus test he had the next day, but he couldn’t quite hide his disappointment as he left.

Peter didn’t have the same lunch block that Harley had, or at least, he couldn’t find him, so all he had to look forward to was Saturday, and when Saturday came, he was panicking.

“What do I wear? Oh God, my room’s a mess! I should’ve cleaned.” In a rushed frenzy, he tossed all of his clothes into his laundry basket, made his bed, and reorganized all the trinkets on his desk. He threw on a graphic tee, flannel, and (barely stained) pair of jeans just in time for the knock on the door of his apartment.

Attempting to regain some sort of semblance of confidence and suave charisma, Harley opened the door with a lopsided smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Peter replied, an even brighter smile on his lips. “May I…”

“Oh, of course!” Harley opened the door wider and ushered Peter in. 

“You have a lovely home,” Peter said softly.

“When we downsized, Mama only kept all the nice, good lookin’ stuff, so now our house looks like a Ashley HomeStore magazine.”

Peter’s laugh rang out loudly. “Well, I think it’s a very nice Ashley HomeStore magazine.”

“So, I was hoping you tell me what you think with all my ‘talking to mute Ariel’ monologues.”

Peter nodded. “I can do that.”

Harley cleared his throat awkwardly. “Okay. Uh, here I go.” He shifted his body to get into character. “Hey, what have we got?” He frowned at the invisible seagulls. “Shoo! Shoo!” He turned to the invisible Ariel.

“Just pretend I’m Ariel,” Peter said.

“Okay.” He cleared his throat again. “Miss, are you alright? You… you seem very familiar. Have we met? Yes… of course! I’ve been looking for you everywhere. You must tell me… what is your name? Excuse me? You don’t speak English. Sore throat, eh? I’m sorry, you don’t speak at all do you? For a moment, I mistook you for somebody else. What is it? You’re hurt? No… no… you need help? A bit dizzy are you? I’ve got just the remedy. A warm bath and a hot meal. Come on now, you’ll be fine. The palace isn’t far.”

Peter gave him a weary smile. “This role is gonna be a real challenge, I’m just gonna start with that. You’re working with nothing but what Betty does and you have pretty monotonous lines.”

“So what do I do?” Harley asked, sitting down on his bed.

“You gotta find life in these lines. Find different ways to show of the inflection. You’re a comedic actor, right?”

Harley nodded.

“It’s like when you’re finding the timing for a good joke. You have to make sure that each line has a meaning. It can’t just be reading words off of a page. It has to be like you’re trying to depict everything she says. You have to constantly be showing that internal thought process that goes into what you say to her.”

“Can I run it again?”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

.-~*~-.

Harley and Peter fell into a familiar routine. When Harley was called (and inevitably was excused early or sidelined until later into the rehearsal) he found every opportunity he could to flirt talk to Peter and get to know everything he could about him.

Peter was the boy of Harley’s dreams. That’s no exaggeration. Every new thing that Harley learned about Peter made him fall more and more in love with him, and each time it happened he figured that there couldn’t be more that he could possibly fall for, and every time he was proven wrong.

Peter rambled about organic and inorganic chemistry and all the chemistries that went in between. He talked about the old ladies he regularly helps carry groceries for or kids in hospitals that he visits or dog shelters that he raised money for. He went on and on about how he strived to find all the good in life even though he hadn’t been dealt a good card. And he didn’t get dealt a good card at all.

They bonded a lot over loss. It wasn’t the same kind of loss, but they could understand the feeling of that missing part of your life. 

Peter was kind. He could listen as much as he talked, and he asked interesting questions. He didn’t waste time with pointless icebreakers, instead jumping into the “how did you handle the internalized homophobia joining a generally gay-centric medium?”

Harley liked Peter. He liked him a lot. Maybe a little too much.

.-~*~-.

“Harley! Thank God you’re here,” Mrs. Cormier exclaimed as he entered the blackbox.

“What’s wrong?” Harley asked, confused.

“Betty has strep. You don’t have strep, right?” 

He shook his head. “I don’t… think I do?”

“Oh Lord above, what are we going to do?” She looked up, making a cross with her hand.

“Aren’t we supposed to run One Step Closer today?” Harley asked.

“Yes, we are, and because of all the snow days, and God knows that with this weather we are gonna have more, this was the only day we had to teach you two the choreography.”

“Well uh…” Harley looked around. “Peter could step in for Ariel?”

Peter’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“Ariel doesn’t have any lines, so Peter doesn’t need a script, and then we can just record the choreographing session for Betty. If she needs more help, me and Peter can teach her.”

The greying woman paused. “Huh. That could work.” She turned to Peter. “Can you dance?”

“I-I can learn?”

“That’s good enough. Come over here.”

“It’ll be okay, darlin’,” Harley said low under his breath.

Peter’s face flushed. “Okay.”

As they ran through the choreography, Peter more nimble than he had previously imagined himself to be, the two began to feel the rhythm. By the fifth move, Peter had stopped stumbling over Harley’s feet, though his heart didn’t stop skipping every time Harley had to wrap his arms around his torso and he felt his heartbeat against his back.

Harley’s brain was static. He wouldn’t admit it, but this was the closest he had been to guy (let alone one he liked) without being pushed away and called a homophobic slur. Harley would be lying if he said he didn’t melt at the glimpses of Peter’s toned torso and arms that he was grazing as they danced. And he’d be the best liar in the world if he said that he wasn’t completely distracted by Peter’s beauty when he had his solo parts.

The two were both surprised when Harley could easily pick up Peter for the lifts, easily heaving his body into the air or spinning him on his waist. However, didn’t go without a few giggles.

They skipped over what seemed to be simple choreography until the final run until they were finally ready for the full recorded run.

When Peter rested his head on Harley’s chest, the taller teen pulling him in close as they swayed to the music and Harley sang warmly, Peter almost forgot to pull away for the next move.

They both longed for that feeling again, chests fuzzy and hearts thumping fast. 

“Well, that take is good! Great job boys. You’re excused now.”

Peter and Harley looked to each other with tinted cheeks.

“And don’t forget, construction is this weekend!”

.-~*~-.

Construction was always the most hectic time for promotion photos for Peter. He was constantly being tugged around to different areas to get the progress photos as well as taking the first photos of the cast in their costumes. 

Peter couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy seeing Harley looking so handsome in his princely costume, arms around Betty Brant’s waist, looking into each other’s eyes in love. He knew they were actors and those were the directions he gave them, but he still didn’t like it.

Following that initial photograph was a lot of running around and settling down rowdy freshman for the group shot and holding back a rolled eye as he explained that “it doesn’t matter who’s in the front; you’re all gonna be seen.”

So, Peter was pretty warn out by the end of construction. However, he stayed late to get some shots of the set without the cast crowding the stage, promising Mrs. Cormier that he would shut off all the lights when he was done.

He was almost ready when he heard a faint sound of rushing water and subtle bang and clank from somewhere in the school. He would usually ignore it, but it was six o’clock on a Saturday evening.

Peter wandered the dark halls, trying to pinpoint where the noise he overheard was coming from. Finally, he approached a heavy wooden door, light seeping through the bottom. He knocked gently.

“It’s open!” A voice replied from behind.

Even more curious, Peter pushed open the door, surprised to see Harley hunched over the janitorial sink with a pile of dirty brushes.

“What are you doing?” Peter questioned.

Harley’s head nearly banged against the wall from how fast he turned to face the teen. “I-I uh, well…”

“Everyone left like half an hour ago. What are you doing here?” 

“Most people at construction tend to forget to clean their brushes and leave good brushes out to dry and get ruined, so I went around at the end while everyone was cleaning and brought ‘em here. It’s kinda therapeutic washing all the paint off.”

“Can I join you?” Peter asked.

“Of course. Just warning you, the floor’s a little wet.”

“That’s alright,” Peter replied, taking a seat on the damp tile. “So how do you wash brushes?”

“You just gotta keep massaging the paint out of the brushes while the water runs over it. Then you flick the brush to get all the water out before drying it as much as you can with a towel before air drying it.”

Peter paused. “How about I stay on towel drying duty while you do all the rest?”

Harley laughed. “Alright. That’s fine with me.” 

The two got into a routine in comfortable silence, Harley humming softly to the jukebox in his mind. When they finally got to the final brush, it had already been an hour.

“We should really get out of here,” Peter said.

Harley nodded. “Let’s just take these back to the construction closet.” He balanced a stack of brushes on a paint tray. “Grab as many as you can so we just have to do one trip.”

“Will do,” Peter replied, making two stacks and carrying the two trays like a waiter would carry plates.

“You didn’t have to stay with me,” Harley said.

“Well, I wanted to,” Peter said, looking to the blue eyed boy.

“Thank you. No one has ever done that before.”

“You’re welcome.”

After reorganizing the brushes, the two headed to the front of the school, but froze at the sight before them.

“Holy shit.”

Snow, blowing through almost forty-five mile hour winds, was packed against the windows. They could barely see past the blizzard’s cloud of white.

“How are we gonna…”

“I’ve gotta call my Aunt,” Peter blurted out. 

“Yeah, I should call Mama,” Harley said, still flabbergasted by the weather catastrophe.

“Hey May. Yeah, I’m still at the school. No, I don’t think I can make it home tonight. No, I don’t know when I’ll be able to get home. Yes, I’ll be safe. I’ll find some food somewhere. Yup. Uh huh. Yup. Alright. I love you too.” Peter joined Harley again. “Well, the phone lines are still working. Power must be out, though.”

“That’s just great.” He sighed. “Do you think the cafeteria is open?” 

“How about we check the concessions storage?"

Snacking on chips and lukewarm soda, the two sat on the floor of the blackbox, backs leaned against the brick walls.

“Where are we gonna sleep?” Harley asked.

“We’ve got that mattress for Ariel’s bedroom scene. Plus, there’s some extra blankets from past shows in case the heat goes off throughout the night.”

“Are you okay with sharing a bed with me?” Harley looked to him with weary eyes.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Harley nodded. “Right.”

Peter stretched out his legs uncomfortably. “Really regretting sitting on that wet floor now. It’s getting really cold. Do you think there’s something warm and comfortable in the costume closet?” 

“We can go check.”

The two ran their fingers through the rows of costumes. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but this White Rabbit costume is made out of some really soft material and it’s my size.”

“Ah, Alice in Wonderland . That was a good show. I still sing that stupid soup song whenever I eat soup.” Peter smiled softly. “ Soup of the evening, beautiful beautiful soup…”

“Oh! This might be nice for you.” Harley held up a pair of bright green sweatpants.

“That’s from our production of Modern Peter Pan .” Peter grabbed the sweatpants from him. “Let’s go raid the prop closet for blankets.”

Luckily, from the productions of Willy Wonka, Grease, and Jekyll and Hyde, there were three different blankets, all warm enough to keep them from freezing through the night. 

With their phone flashlights, they guided themselves through the dark wings until they finally found the mattress.

Carefully making the bed, the two got tucked in and stared at the ceiling silently.

“So…” Peter said.

“So... “ Harley repeated.

“This is gonna be one hell of a story, right?” 

Peter chortled, covering his mouth. “Yeah. It will be.” He laughed again. “Have you heard all of the stories from past shows?” 

Harley shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Well, last year’s production of Sweeney Todd, we had these six foot platforms for Sweeney’s shop and for the contest, and the actress playing Adolpha Pirelli was doing her solo, right? Doing all the choreo and blocking, but the water bowl for the shaving brush was on the wrong side of the chair, and she tried to go around it, but she missed the platform and fell.”

“No!”

“Yes. It was horrible. We had to stop the show.”

“Oh God.”

“ And, it was filming night."

“Oh no!”

“And then the year before that, we did Hello, Dolly! Our choreographer went a little crazy with lifts, so they were doing bluebirds and traveling baskets, but the girl who was playing Ermengarde was partnered with one of the seniors who was six foot six and while he was doing a dirty dancing lift…”

“Oh no.”

“He dropped her. She got a concussion.”

“Oh my God! That’s horrible.”

“Do you have any theatre horror stories?” Peter turned to face Harley. 

“Oh, do I? Let’s see. In Tarzan, we had this rope tied to the ceiling that I would swing on and off stage on and during our Saturday matinee, the rope just snapped and I landed face first into the hexagons.”

Peter stifled a laugh.

“No, it’s okay. You can laugh.”

“What else?”

“In Mamma Mia, during the Gimme Gimme Gimme scene when the girls have their crazy choreography with the dads, one girl had pulled my shirt the wrong way, and it didn’t have buttons, it had velcro for the quick change, and the whole shirt just ripped off. I had to do the rest of the scene without a shirt.”

“That’s a sight to see.”

He both giggled, turning back to stare at the ceiling.

“Can I ask you a question?” Harley asked.

“Shoot.”

“How do you know so much about acting? Did you used to be an actor?”

Peter shook his head. “I spend the most time with these shows than anyone else. I get to see all of the different techniques and critiques and workshops that go through each show. I’m a bit of an information sponge and when you have as much time as me to people watch, you learn a lot about the different types of acting.”

“I really admire that.”

Peter snorted, rolling his eyes.

“No, really. That’s really awesome. You don’t have to do any of this, but you did, and that’s really nice.”

“Well I’m glad that I’m nice,” Peter said with a cheeky smile.

Harley shoved his arm. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“I mean that you always take the extra mile to do the right thing even if you don’t have to. You’ve wasted who knows how long helpin’ me.”

“I didn’t waste time. I wanted to.” 

The two were now turned on their sides, faces inches apart.

“You are amazing,” Peter whispered. “You’re talented, you’re generous, you’re tenacious, and you never curse me out when I give you acting tips.”

Harley chuckled, but cut off quickly, distracted by Peter’s warm breath on his face. “Well, you are talented. You are selfless, hardworking, and a surprisingly, but not so surprisingly, good dancer.”

“It’s hard to focus on the dancing when I’m dancing with you.”

“Why’s that?” Harley asked, eyelashes batting innocently.

“Because all I could think about was…” Peter placed a hand on Harley’s cheek.

Harley nodded. “It’s okay.”

Peter slowly leaned in, lips lightly hovering over Harley’s. Harley, impatient, grabbed the back of Peter’s head and pulled him in closer, Peter sucking in a breath at his sudden burst of confidence. Neither of the teens were masters at kissing. It had been the first time either had ever kissed another boy, but they savored each moment, legs intertwining and cold hands running through messy curls.

The next morning when the storm died down, Harley walked Peter home, hands interlaced with his.