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Peter had been a fan fiction writer for quite some time. When he was in middle school, his schedule balancing robotics club, band, and AcaDec, he needed a creative outlet that wasn’t rigidly confined by STEM or saxophone repetoire.
So, he found himself writing stories.
They weren’t good. They were actually quite horrendous at first, but he expressed his love for the Star Wars stories, exploring character interactions in as many ways as he could imagine. He made canon divergent fix-it fics and cringey OC fics and even modern high school AUs.
However, as he grew older, his skills blossomed, just from the sheer magnitude that he wrote.
Every day, when he got back from his extracurriculars, already having finished his homework during school, he would find himself at the chunky computer he had rebuilt from garbage scraps, typing away until Ben called him for dinner, and then back at the keyboard when he finished washing the dishes.
It wasn’t until Spider-Man entered his life did his stories really get somewhere.
Peter had become known for his hyper-realistic, extremely detailed action sequences. After a particularly long patrol, he took notes on form and the choreography of it all, the different way that the criminals attempted to fight against him.
Of course, he took a lot of creative liberty to adapt the fights to fit his characters, but people appreciated the ebb and flow, how it didn’t focus on the gore, but instead the intricacies of technique and battle preparation.
But, his modest AO3 following wasn’t something that he broadcasted in his real life. There were enough reasons for people to make fun of Peter Parker, and he didn’t want to add to the list.
So, after almost a year of knowing Harley Keeer, Peter didn’t think to mention it.
Harley was great. He was really, really, really great, and Peter didn’t want to ruin what he could only hope was respect and mutual friendship that he shared with Harley by divulging his deepest, darkest secret with him. (Because despite what one would think, Spider-Man was not his deepest, darkest secret.)
Because Peter maybe, just maybe, just maybe a teensy tiny little bit, had a big, fat, embarrassing, brain-goes-offline-and-he-makes-stuttering-static-noises-when-he-tries-to-talk crush on Harley.
Harley was effortless charismatic. He was funny in a dry and sarcastic kind of way that could keep up banter for what felt like hours. He was kind in a genuine benevolent generosity kind of way. He was intelligent, and he made it very clear that he was competent and capable. He was confident, unwavering and strong. And he was really pretty. Sparkling blue eyes and soft, bouncy blonde hair, and a crooked smile.
So, sue him! Harley was dreamy and exactly Peter’s type.
So, when Harley approached him one morning, Peter slurping down a mango smoothie, saying “hey, Peter, so I was checking out your AO3,” was it really his fault that he snorted it out of his nose and coughed for a good two minutes in pure shock and also so he could delay the conversation as much as he could?
Class started before Harley could bring it up again that day.
But Peter knew it was coming.
The two were lounging in Harley’s room, Peter at his desk finishing his research essay for AP Lit, and Harley lying on the carpeted floor, scrolling silently on his phone.
“I just finished “ Thnks Fr Th Mmrs (even if they weren’t so bad) ,” Harley announced.
Peter choked. “ What ?!”
“Yeah, it took me a good couple hours because I mean, Jesus, 236,000 words, but I finished, and I gotta say, wasn’t expecting that ending.”
Peter swiveled around in the rollie chair. “How did you find my AO3?”
“It’s linked on your Tumblr,” Harley said with a shrug. “Anyways, I know that it was tagged major character death, but killing off Rey like that, I mean, that was heartbreaking. I felt physical pain in my chest while reading that. I didn’t even know a book could do that.”
“You read my fic?” Peter asked.
Harley looked to him, confused. “Yeah, I said that didn’t I? I’ve been reading your whole page, though it’s gonna take me some time because you’ve got like at least a million words total.” He scrolled through. “I started from your earliest fics because I figured they’ll just get better the further I get, and I’m about fifteen fics in because that last one was so long, and I don’t have that much free time…”
“Why are you reading my fics?” Peter blurted out.
“Because you wrote them?” Harley responded, as if the answer was obvious. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“It’s… it’s embarrassing.”
“I mean, yeah, your earlier work had some formatting issues with the dialogue and some grammar mix ups, but I wouldn’t say it’s embarrassing. If anything, it’s really well written. Thnks Fr Th Mmmrs got a lot better as it went on.”
“That was my first multi-chap,” Peter said.
“You could tell. At least, at first you could. But like I said, it got better as it went on.”
“You liked it?”
Harley tilted his head. “Yeah. I did. You’re a really talented writer, Peter.” He looked to him with confusion and a hint of hurt. “Why didn’t you ever tell me about this? Did you not trust me? Did you think I was going to make fun of you?”
“No!” Peter said quickly. “Well, I… I just, people think it’s weird. And that I’m weird. And it’s just one more weird thing, and I just didn’t want you to think I was weird.”
“I could never think you were weird,” Harley said softly.
Peter ducked his head, averting his gaze. “So, uh, do you have any notes? The feedback is pretty mixed in my comments, but usually the criticism I receive isn’t quite constructive.”
“Well, your action scenes are impeccable,” Harley said. “You really know how to capture movement. And the team dynamics are spot on. The build of trust and eventual camaraderie doesn’t feel rushed at all, and as a reader, is really fulfilling and satisfying.”
“But?” Peter prompted.
“But,” Harley continued, “the non-platonic relationships are lacking.”
Peter bobbed his head in understanding, hand going to rub the back of his neck. “Yeah…” He sighed. “It’s just, it’s hard, y’know? Because I’ve never… I mean, the closest I ever got was with Liz, and you know how that ended up.”
Harley sat on the edge of his bed. “Have you tried reading it more?”
“I just don’t tend to read that stuff. I’m not… it’s just not as interesting to me because I don’t get it. And that’s the problem. I just don’t get this stuff. Even if I did, I wouldn’t be good at it enough to really retain that information,” Peter said with a pathetic shrug.
“What do you have trouble with?” Harley asked, leaning forward, invested and curious.
“It’s the physical side of things. I don’t… in theory, I get how the feelings should feel. But, getting the logistics of stuff like how it feels when they finally break that physical barrier or how a kiss should be described, I just, I’m hopeless.”
“Well, I could help you?”
Peter looked up. “What?”
“I could show you. And explain it to you. Show you how it should be written.”
Peter opened his mouth and closed it again, struggling to form words. “You would do that?” he finally croaked.
“Of course. I’m happy to help. I know this stuff is easier with experience, so I’ll give you experience.”
Peter gawked at his nonchalance. “Well, uh… okay.”
“Okay?” Harley repeated.
“Okay,” Peter said with a single nod. “So, how are we gonna… are you just gonna…”
“Relax,” Harley said, voice low and rumbling. “Stand up.”
Peter jolted from his seat, standing straight and stiff.
“Relax,” Harley said again. He ran his fingers on Peter’s arm, the pads just barely hovering over his skin. “The first touch can be something really intimate. A feather-light touch. Fingers grazing gently, sending a jolt up their spine.”
“I don’t feel a jolt,” Peter said, a blatant lie.
“Well, that’s because we aren’t love interests. But love interests in a story? They’ve got so much passion and anticipation that the feeling just overcomes them.” He placed his hand over Peter’s. “There’s many different ways people show affection through holding hands. To show a small but close intimacy, they can trace patterns on the back of their hand.” He interlocked their fingers. “Or they can rub circles on their thumb.”
“Yeah, that is nice.”
“It’s simple, and simplicity can be good.” He wrapped his arms around the smaller teen. “There’s a few different kinds of hugs, but I’m sure you’ve hugged in many ways. Again, rubbing circles but on their back is a great way to show comfort.”
Peter nodded against his shoulder.
Harley separated from his hold. “Some go-to romance feelings that show don’t tell are the little tells.” Harley looked into his eyes. “Heart stuttering as their eyes met.” He guided Peter’s hand to his heart. “Hammering in their chest.” He stroked his fingers up and down his arm. “Sometimes mind is a blank, only thinking about them or the moment. Sometimes you’re overwhelmed with too many thoughts, all the things you wish you could do or say.”
Peter didn’t know how he could possibly think of anything but the all encompassing presence of Harley. His intoxicating scent and gentle touch with his calloused hands and his bright blue eyes staring at Peter like he was the most precious thing in his world.
“There are also little ways you can show in the way they move. The way they gravitate towards each other. Leaning against each other as if they can’t even stand to not touch. A quick touch to the lower back when they’re moving around them,” he did so, trailing his fingers on Peter’s hip, settling behind him. “Hugging from behind, resting their head on their shoulder.” He nuzzled his face in Peter’s neck, Peter thankful it wasn’t the other way because his heart would probably pound right out of his chest.
“And there are the even littler ways. The small soft smiles, longing glances from afar, and bashful duck of the head.” He circled back around Peter. “The way their eyes dart between their eyes and their lips, lingering a little too long, noticing the way that their tongue swipes out.”
“Right,” Peter replied, unsure of what else to say.
“But kissing is where things get complicated,” Harley said, hovering close to Peter.
Peter let out a high pitched hum.
“When kissing close-lipped, focus on the way their body reacts. The way their heart pounds, hard and fast. Or focus on what their hands are doing. Where their hands are can mean a lot about the kind of kiss.” Harley’s lips were just grazing Peter’s, his breath warm. “If they aren’t doing anything with their hands, it’s an awkward and impersonal kiss.” He placed a hand on Peter’s cheek, the skin warming under his touch. “The most common way to initiate a kiss is like this, a tentative hand caressing their cheek.” He rubbed his thumb on Peter’s jaw. “A kiss can be hesitant, unsure. Leaning in slowly, eyes fluttering shut. May I?”
Peter nodded, legs wobbly beneath him.
Harley did as he said, leaning in slowly, Peter leaning with him. Their lips met, slow and chaste.
“Then there’s adding the movement,” Harley said. “Usually people find a rhythm. Kisses aren’t always perfect. If they’re frantic and impatient, and you want to add a realism to it, mention teeth hitting each other or noses bumping. I’m gonna show you what it feels like, but it’s not the most comfortable. Prepare to kiss me open-mouthed.”
Peter parted his lips and Harley leaned in fast, their teeth clinking as they collided. Peter winced.
“Yeah, awkward and kinda hurts, but that shows inexperience or at least that they were in a rush,” Harley said. “So, let’s take it a little slower.” He pushes Peter’s hair out from his eyes. “Try putting your arms around my neck.”
Peter slid his hands up Harley’s chest, clasping his hands behind his neck.
“Good,” Harley mumbled. “Focus on the movement. Don’t be afraid to move. And focus on the way it feels.”
Harley’s lips met his again. Their lips worked in a relaxed rhythm, Peter focusing on the way his lips parted and came back together, Harley’s lips chapped but wet, undeniably and overwhelmingly warm.
Harley tilted his head, the new angle giving Peter more confidence, deepening the kiss.
Peter almost whined as Harley pulled away.
“Here. Sometimes when they kiss, a way to show urgency is when they press them against a wall. Do you want to see how that feels?”
“O-okay,” Peter stuttered.
Harley guided him to the door and shoved him lightly by the shoulders, closing the distance between them and pressing against him, kissing him faster, more sloppily and thoughtlessly.
Peter’s mind drew a blank, hyperfocusing on the feeling of Harley everywhere, the taste of Harley that he would be craving for days to come.
Harley pulled away. “Let’s try sitting down. It feels different.”
Peter nodded wordlessly, taking a seat on the bed. “I’m going to show you some more hand placements. If you’re ever uncomfortable, you tell me, alright?”
“Okay,” Peter agreed.
“Good.” Harley leaned in again, Peter shutting his eyes and getting lost in the moment.
Harley’s hands first went to his shoulders, holding them firmly in place. Then, they snaked to his back, exploring up and down his spine, Peter shivering beneath his fingers. Harley’s palm went to his neck, pulling him closer, the angle a little awkward as they sat. Peter readjusted.
“Fingers in hair is a great way to deepen the kiss. Do you want to try, or should I?”
“Can you?” Peter asked quietly.
“Of course.” Harley’s fingers laced between his brunette locks, gripping and tugging, causing a low guttural sound to escape Peter’s lips. Harley smiled against his lips.
“Do you want to try it laying down?” Harley asked.
“D-don’t see why not,” Peter said trying to sound casual.
“First let’s try with you on your back.”
Peter reclined flat on the bed.
“Spread your legs a little bit. I’m going to go between your legs.”
Peter did so.
“You tell me if anything makes you uncomfortable, okay?”
“Okay.”
Harley slotted himself in the space, holding himself up with his forearms, chest pressing flush against Peter’s as his lips were back on his.
Peter experimentally slipped into Harley’s hair with a soft grip. Harley hummed in response.
Harley pulled away, only inches, whispering low, “If you use tongue, don’t overdo it. Terms like battling and fighting for dominance are overdone and frankly, gross and unrealistic. People who kiss with a lot of tongue are horny teens that don’t actually know how to kiss. Try to keep it to a minimum, just a touch, and then pulling away. Like this.”
Harley’s lips were back onto Peter’s. He licked Peter’s bottom lip, and he hesitantly parted his lips, Harley’s tongue meeting his just long enough that they could intertwine before retracting back, passing by his lip again. He lightly bit on Peter’s lip, the shorter teen holding back a moan.
He pulled away. “Do you want to try being on top?”
Peter nearly choked in surprise, and nodded silently.
Harley dismounted, and got to the other side of the bed, lying down. “You don’t have to, but one posititon that exemplifies the intensity of the scene is when one person is on top of the other, legs on either side of their thighs.”
“Like… straddling them?”
Harley gulped. “Uh, yeah.”
Peter furrowed his brows, and settled himself on top of Harley’s hips, legs trapping him beneath him.
Harley struggled to not react.
“This right?” Peter questioned.
“Yup, that’s right,” Harley squeaked.
Peter was the one to lean in this time, getting used to the new position, taking note of the pressure in places he never knew pressure could feel so good.
Harley teared Peter away by the hair, slightly out of breath. “Kissing someone’s neck is unique because each person is different. Some sweet spots are along the jaw,” Harley’s kissed gently down his jaw, “but focus on the exploration and then finally finding that sweet spot.” Harley sucked and nipped gently at Peter’s neck, Peter gasping when he found the sensitive, soft spot.
Harley just nodded, moving to the other side of his neck, Peter nearly writhing beneath his touch. “Some people like under or behind their ear.” The feeling was foreign to Peter, but it wasn’t unwanted.
“And most people generally don’t give hickies, at least adults. It’s mostly a teenage or college thing to do. I would show you what that feels like, but I figure you wouldn’t want to sport a hickie.”
“It’s like a bruise, right?” Peter asked.
Harley scrunched his brows. “Sort of.”
“Light bruises heal in less than an hour,” Peter said.
Harley’s lips fell into an “o.” “Well, then I guess I can show you.” His lips were back on his neck, finding that spot that made Peter heavy, pushing hard onto Harley. He used his tongue and his teeth, grazing the skin over and over.
When Harley pulled away, he felt a rush of possessive heat course through him as he saw Peter: messy haired, swollen lipped, and marked by him.
Peter was panting slightly over him, staring at him with pupils blown so much that his eyes had just a thin rim of warm brown.
“So, uh… yeah. That’s… that’s your crash course in writing romance.”
Peter’s face fell. “Oh, uh, right. Uh… thanks. For this. And for, uh, helping me.”
Harley swallowed hard, running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, of course. No problem at all.”
The two stayed there, catching their breath, Peter still on top of the blonde.
“I’m just gonna…” Peter started.
“Oh, right. Of course,” Harley replied.
Peter climbed off, sitting next to Harley, unable to meet his eyes again. His hands sat in his lap, knuckles clenching and stretching uncomfortably. “How do you know so much about this stuff? You… you must have a lot of experience.”
Harley pursed his lips. “I’ve been on a couple dates but nothing has really stuck. I’m just trying to be ready for the right person.”
There was a deep rumble in Peter’s heart. “Oh. Yeah, I get that.” He swallowed. “Uh, who?”
Harley turned nervously to Peter. “You.”
Peter’s jaw dropped, brows scrunched tight. “What?”
“I-I’m sorry for taking advantage of you and your trust and for… for all of this. I just… I wouldn’t have ever… but that’s no excuse. I should’ve never… I’m sorry. I didn’t… it’s fine if you don’t… I know you don’t… and that’s okay. So let’s just… you can just pretend that I never…”
Peter cut him off, his sore lips on his.
Harley melted under the touch, cupping his cheek again.
Peter rested his forehead on Harley’s, eyes shut as he ran his thumb on the back of his neck. “I like you too.”
Harley smiled and connected their lips one more time.
Let’s just say that the kissing didn’t stop there.