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Peter watches May fall to her death and he breaks.
***
The police radio droned on in the background. There was something happening, there was always something happening, but Peter couldn’t be bothered to listen. He stopped Octopus. He saved New York. And what of it, if he couldn’t save those who mattered to him the most?
He put the coat on the hanger and tried not to think of the funeral.
He attended too many of them in the recent years. And it was always, always his fault. He didn’t stop that robber and he killed Ben. He fought the Green Goblin and Norman died. He wasn’t fast enough to save Rosalie and stop Otto from going insane. He wasn’t strong enough to keep him from killing May after that. He was so much more now than before and he still wasn’t good enough.
Not good enough to keep good grades in Connors class. Not brave enough to say yes to MJ when she needed it. Not supportive enough of Harry... Yeah, no, he was not even getting into the mess with Harry. Harry was at the funeral too. They haven’t spoken two words to each other. Peter was pretty sure he successfully ruined their friendship and he couldn’t even figure out if he had done that as Spider-Man or just as himself.
He was... alone.
No job, no rent for Dietkovich, no friends, no family, no hope. Nothing but that huge, heavy fucking „mission” on his shoulders because being Spider-Man wouldn’t pay the bills but even if it ruined his life, he couldn’t give it up. It ruined his life, and it may have ruined all Parkers, and it may have ruined the Osborns too... But there were many lives it saved instead.
At least he didn’t ruin it for MJ. At least she had John, even if she was basically a stranger now.
With great power comes great responsibility.
And great fucking pain and disappointment.
He looked at the suitcase resting at the bottom of the wardrobe, and eventually slammed the door shut instead and turned off the radio.
Today, he was not going to bother being Spider-Man. Hell, today he couldn’t even bother being Peter Parker.
Today, he would just be sad.
***
Harry Osborn’s life was a string of failures even since his mother’s death. He didn’t have good enough grades, didn’t have good enough reputation, why did he draw silly doodles instead of studying business, why was he seen snogging a boy in the newspaper, why wasn’t he a mini Norman? His education? A failure. His interests? A failure. His public image? A failure. His friendship with Peter? A string of pathetic failures wrapped in a rollercoaster of emotions. Yes, Peter was amazing, but Peter was a painful reminder that his father would rather have Peter as his son than him. And recently Peter and him were... it felt like a divorce, almost.
Peter took Spider-Man’s side. Harry respected that, in a way. Peter was, as always, the hero to his villain. Harry wanted answers, revenge, satisfaction. Peter thought of all the little kids the friendly neighbourhood webslinger could save.
The fact Peter would be disappointed in him should be enough to stop Harry but...
Harry was way past caring.
He was way past failing, or trying to succeed, or living for anyone other than himself, or living in this hellscape of a reality. A part of him wanted to just jump on a private jet to a private island and hide away for the rest of his days. And he probably would do that, if he had someone to escape with, but he didn’t, so he decided to kidnap Spider-Man and feel good for at least a while.
If only Norman could see him now. Would he be disappointed? Proud?
A part of him wondered what would happen if Harry created this code before Norman’s death. Except before Norman’s death he would have no reason to, and the results wouldn’t be too helpful anyway. There was a part of Harry that wished to know who Norman really loved, even if it was dreading the answer. But this program couldn’t do that. Harry set it to locate the person who loves the target the most. He didn’t need Norman alive to know it wouldn’t show him for Harry.
He run the tests. He knew it worked. He never used it on himself. He didn’t want to know. Instead he sent the drone out, armed with a clip full of carbonadium bullets and connected to the running algorithm with wi-fi. He leaned against the desk, because the chair was occupied, moved forward and blocked in place a few feet in front of him, with Spider-Man unconscious and tied to it with carbonadium handcuffs.
Jesus Christ, Harry actually did it. He kidnapped fucking Spider-Man. And didn’t just try, he succeeded.
The man stirred a bit, waking up in the chair, even if Harry couldn’t see his face. He didn’t take the mask off yet, it just felt wrong. He didn’t know why but it felt like it wouldn’t be the same. He wanted to hear him first. Talk to him.
Or maybe he just didn’t want to see that there was someone inside the suit and not just an abstract colorfully clad hero.
„Harry...?” The white lenses widened, surprise strangely clear even under the mask. Harry ignored it and the fact that the hero immediately knew him and apparently felt like calling him by his first name and focused on his grand monologue.
He already cast himself as the villain, may as well play the role in style.
„Looks like the friendly neighborhood spider fell in a web himself.”
„Harry, I’m sorry--”
„I bet you are!” He didn’t mean to scream. It just... bubbled out, like he was boiling inside and not even aware until he overflowed. „You’re such a hero. Universally beloved. Saving lives. But there’s one life you didn’t manage to save. One life you ruined instead. My father’s. And mine.”
„Harry, you don’t understand...”
„Don’t call me that. We’re not friends. You’re not in a position to be explaining anything. You’re the one who doesn’t understand. But you will. You see this map?” He pressed the enter key on the keyboard and watched as the pixels shimmered for a moment. „This map will show you the people who love you. And you will see as the dots that represent them blink out when they die, and you will finally understand what it’s like to lose someone who was there for you.”
Maybe Norman wasn’t exactly there for him. But he was there. And now he wasn’t anymore.
On the screen, a red dot finally appeared, and the speakers pinged with a quiet sound that indicated the software finished running. Harry frowned, staring at the single red dot on the screen. That... made absolutely no sense. The map slowly began to zoom in as the drone made its way to the dot somewhere in New York.
One person?
„Someone loves me?”
He turned around like struck by a lightning, completely thrown off by the quiet but genuinely shocked voice of Spider-Man. Why would he be surprised? How could he have only one person who cared for him. Why would that be?
„But... But it makes no sense. Everyone loves you.” He turned to the man.
„Do they?” Spider-Man shrugged, as if thinking he had no people who loved him wasn’t a big deal to him. „They don't even know me. They love Spider-Man. And that's not all I am. Or not all I was. I have no family left, no friends. Maybe Spider-Man is all I have left but Spider-Man is just a public persona.”
Fuck.
Why was he so goddamn relatable? Why did he sound like describing Harry’s experience as he was describing his own? Why did he have to be right? He walked over, staring into the covered eyes as if trying to read them.
„But then under the mask... who are you? If you have no one, who’s that dot?”
And then the computer pinged again, signaling finishing targeting and showed the life footage from the drone as it settled on its target. Just as the drone flew through the window and tried to shoot him.
„What the fuck!” He ducked and quickly deactivated the attack mode, staring at the screen that still showed his own shocked face through the drone’s cameras. The red dot was him. „How the hell did you hack this?!”
He stomped over to the man, pinned him closer to the chair with a hand on his neck.
„I didn’t, I swear I didn’t!”
Except he had to, right? Or the program must have malfunctioned because there was no one left who loved Harry, and no one left that Harry loved... except for... That voice. He didn’t realize Spider-Man was changing his voice slightly until it went back to normal in its panicked tone just now, and it sounded somewhat familiar.
No.
„Who are you?” He repeated, even if deep down, he already connected the dots, and he ripped off the mask.
Peter’s eyes were closed, shut tightly as if he hoped that closing them would physically protect him from what was happening. Harry laughed. He laughed, hysterical, relieved, betrayed, confused. God, it made so much sense in retrospect.
And no sense at all.
Letting go of panicked laughter and making way for anger, he threw the mask on the floor and grabbed the drone still hanging idly in the air, throwing it against the wall until it shattered.
The program worked.
It worked perfectly.
„Dammit, Peter!” He stared at his best friend, the man he still couldn’t bring himself to stop calling his best friend, until Peter opened his eyes and found the guts to face him. „Why didn’t you tell me?”
„When? Between you telling me Spider-Man killed your father and you telling me that you hate him?”
„That’s your excuse? You won’t even try to explain yourself? Because I know now. And somehow, as much as I am pissed, suddenly that means that I know Spider-Man didn’t kill my father. Because Peter Parker wouldn’t hurt a fly, and certainly not Norman.”
„I didn’t... Harry, I promised him not to tell you, I--”
„What?” Promised? Who did he promise -- and then it hit him. „My father?! You promised my father?!”
Peter’s flinch was answer enough.
„No!” Harry yelled. He was done. He was done with all of it. „No, Peter, I don’t give a fuck what you promised! You don’t owe him shit! I am done with this, I don’t want any more excuses, no more lies! You will tell me, Peter.”
And Peter... Peter told him. Explained everything. About becoming Spider-Man, on that damn field trip, while Harry was standing right next to him. About the Goblin, the glider, about ducking out of instinct. Only Peter would apologize for trying to avoid a lethal attack. And everything he said, it made so much sense, Harry was suddenly ashamed. Ashamed of ever trying to live up to Norman’s expectations, and finally realizing Norman himself wasn’t worth shit.
„Thank you for telling me. Even if I had to drag it out of you basically by force.” He sighed, and Peter didn’t answer. He wasn’t looking at him, eyes locked on the screen, now without any video, since he broke the drone, but with the red dot still blinking.
„There’s one more thing I don’t understand. What the hell is that red dot? Everyone loves Peter Parker! You’re the nice guy between the to of us, the kind and friendly boy next door everyone adores! Why am I the only dot.”
And Peter, Peter looked so damn confused and resigned, like he was more befuddled that Harry assumed he would be loved than that he only had Harry left.
„Harry... You were always the exception, don’t you realize? I was the loser, in high school, and on the street, and at my goddamn job, and in life. I lost my parents, I lost Ben, and then May, and all of it was my fault. For a while I had MJ, but then it was over like it’s never been. And I never really had friends besides you, and I guess I sort of had Norman, but I lost you both that night he died. There was no one left. There is no one left.”
„No.” He met Peter’s eyes, because it was true. He didn’t realize, he didn’t understand a lot of things but he was going to learn. He was done trying to follow some paths and expectations and plans. He was going to just do whatever the hell he wanted now. „No, it’s not true that there’s no one left. I’m still here. And I’m gonna fix this.”
***
Peter was feeling some kind of way. Dizzy, lightheaded, and confused. He was still alive, and he was... maybe... still friends with Harry? He wasn’t sure, considering that he was still tied to an office chair, if this could be called good but it was still somehow better than the reaction he was expecting from Harry.
„So... Does that mean you will untie me?” The seeming truce did not make it any less awkward.
„Can’t you just break out yourself?” Harry raised an eyebrow, sassy but sophisticated at the same time. The bastard always pulled that beautiful superior look off.
„I guess, yeah. I don’t know, it felt kind of rude.”
Harry laughed. That was a good sign, right?
„Go on, then.” He said. „Try to break free, I actually would like to see something.”
Slightly confused, Peter pulled on the handcuffs and... they didn’t give. He frowned and pulled again. Last time he checked, his new strength allowed him at least around 12 tons of force without breaking a sweat. So what was happening?
„Um, Harry... I can’t break these? What the hell is this?”
„Yeah, that’s carbonadium.” Harry smirked. Peter would be almost proud of him because he had to admit this whole plan was executed pretty well if it wasn’t a plan on how to defeat him. „Basically synthetic adamantium. Looks like we found your kryptonite, Spidey. You may want to look into that.”
„I could still get free by breaking the plastic chair, you know.” He couldn’t resist a come-back. „It’s just that I’d rather not break your things.”
„Sure.” Harry laughed as he grabbed the key and turned to unlock the cuffs. „But you’d still have your hands tied together then, genius. So better remember this and avoid carbonadium just in case.”
Peter had to admit he had a point.
He stood up, awkwardly shaking off the stiffness from his muscles. It felt weird to stand before Harry in just the suit, and certainly without a mask. It made him feel exposed but at the same time... good. It was cleansing.
He pulled Harry into a hug before he could change his mind and relaxed in relief when Harry returned the embrace, the two of them just standing in the middle of a somewhat ruined office, holding each other until they couldn’t anymore.
„I missed you, Harry.”
„Me too, Pete. Me too.”
They eventually pulled away, and the strange awkwardness that Peter wasn’t used to with Harry was back. Although maybe he should be used to it. He’s been in these walls countless times, but in the past years they drifted apart so much it was like starting over again.
„I guess I’m gonna... go? Give you some space but maybe we can--” Peter didn’t get to finish before Harry interrupted him.
„Oh, hell no.” Peter stared at him blankly, surprised that Harry wouldn’t want him out of his hair. „You are staying here tonight.”
„I... am?” He was mostly just confused, and haven’t had the slightest clue where did Harry get that idea. „Why am I?”
„You gotta be kidding if you think I’m letting you go home at this hour in this state.”
„I literally swing and fight crime at that time every night and still go to class the next morning.” Granted at Harry’s raised eyebrow, he had to admit there was more to it. „It doesn’t exactly help my grades but...”
„Point. And besides, not when you are depressed and emotionally compromised.”
„No? Yes.” Wasn’t he supposed to? „I have fought crime depressed and emotionally compromised, that’s basically my default state the past few months.”
Harry just stared at him pointedly as if he could see something Peter didn’t.
„You are so not helping your case by telling me that!”
And well, maybe Harry was right. Maybe Peter wasn’t the best judge right now, and even he had to admit the idea of swinging through the night right now just to come back to his cold, empty shithole of an apartment and not be able to sleep all night anyway was not appealing in the slightest.
„Do you have some pyjamas I can borrow then? The suit isn’t the most comfortable.”
„Yeah. And you better shower and I’ll throw that in the laundry.”
„It’s not machine washable.”
Harry stared at him like he grew a second head.
„Pete, you fight crime in it and it’s delicate enough you can’t throw it in the washing machine?”
Peter just shrugged. Maybe he should look into different materials.
„Just. Go shower and I’ll find you something to wear.”
And Peter had to admit, Harry’s shower was much nicer than his, and the hot water relaxed him for what felt like the first time in months. It must have been the water, because what else? Probably not the tension between him and Harry finally disappearing. He chuckled to himself as he dried himself and threw on an overly posh matching set of pyjamas he had to admit was ridiculously comfy and soft.
„Thanks.”
Harry was sitting on the edge of his bed, holding the spidey mask. He stood up and looked at Peter when he walked in and leaned against the doorframe. The suit was hanging on a laundry rack in the corner.
„Don’t worry, I hand washed it.” Harry shrugged and put the mask next to the rest of the suit to dry.
„Wouldn’t have though you know how to.”
„Haha.” Harry shot back, but his eyes didn’t old any malice. „Hilarious, Parker.”
„I just wanted to say... thanks for letting me stay. And I’m sorry.”
„No.” Harry sighed. „I’m sorry too.”
„For kidnapping me?”
„No, I’m actually not apologizing for that yet, because you deserved it. But I am sorry that I gave you no reason to believe you could have shared this with me. You know, even before... the Goblin.”
„It wasn’t like that, Harry.” Peter thought about it. God, the amount of times he thought about it, back then and later, regretting not taking the chance. „I didn’t tell anyone.”
„I know. Still. We both fucked up, and we both changed, and...” He trailed off, as if unsure where he was going. Eventually he stepped close to Peter, putting a hand on his shoulder. „Look, things between us will probably never be exactly as they once were, but that’d alright. But we’ve always been there for each other, so we can pull through this too. And maybe the program was right. Maybe I am your red dot, and you are mine. And that’s enough. We can work with that.”
And Peter found himself believing him.
***
Harry wasn’t in the best place mentally himself, but as he lay asleep that night, just himself with his thoughts and realizations of the day, it was like a strange peace settled over him. He messed up, big time, and he and Peter had a long way to go to be back where they once were, but it felt possible in a way it didn’t before. For once in the last two years he had an idea what to do, and a goal. And that was to protect Peter. That was always the goal, wasn’t it? When Flash tried to pick on Pete but knew to stay away from Harry because Harry was rich. And now Peter needed him again, not to protect him from bullies, but from himself.
No, Harry wasn’t a picture of mental health exactly, but it struck him suddenly that he was right now probably better off than Peter. For Harry, it’s been years now and as much as he didn’t deal with it the best way, he long since accepted his father’s death, and knew he couldn’t help it. Peter was clearly still blaming himself for Ben’s death, and now May’s, and somehow, although Harry wasn’t sure why, he blamed himself for Otto’s actions and death. And when Harry tended to react to trauma with anger and action, Peter turned to himself, and became withdrawn and depressed.
And Harry knew that could be more dangerous, because where Harry would scream until eventually someone helped, Peter would hide from any help. But well. Now Harry knew. And he wouldn’t stand for that.
That morning, he ended up awake before sunrise, despite the fact they went to bed long after midnight and it took him even longer to actually fall asleep. It was most definitely all the stress and the emotions that made a scramble of his brain and refused to get him proper rest, but it worked just fine for him. He saw Peter was still asleep, his door ajar, and closed it as he left to check the kitchen.
He didn’t really cook much these days, opting to eat out or order, or have Bernard make something when he came and stocked up. So while the biggest part of the fridge was ready meals to reheat, there was also a lot of fresh produce that didn’t manage to spoil yet, thankfully.
It just felt wrong to order in again. He wanted to make something. A proper breakfast, that made him look like an adult and also like Peter probably didn’t have either since May passed. So it would be nice to have a real breakfast, right? For both of them. And it’d be a nice sort of an apologetic gesture for Harry to start and make up for his sins. He had no illusions about how bad several ideas he had in the past months had been.
He wasn’t a master chef by any means, and he didn’t know when would Peter wake up, but he figured he could make some simple sandwiches, and they’d hold well even for another while without requiring much skill. Harry actually liked making sandwiches. More so than eating them, even. It was an old memory he held onto quietly, of making sandwiches with his mom as a little kid and her drawing smiley faces on the cheese sandwich with the ketchup. He stared at the bottle, feeling a strange surge of nostalgia and sudden determination, and quickly buttered the first slice of sourdough, putting a piece of cheese on and grabbing the ketchup bottle like a pen.
He was careful, the bottle not so easy to operate and his own skills a bit dusty after years, but eventually he was done and stared at the cartoon mask of Spider-Man drawn in ketchup. It was not so bad. Soon enough, he had a small tower of sandwiches, colorful and beautiful, with lettuce, tomatoes, all kinds of ham and cheese and little spiders cut out of bell peppers. And Harry was snacking on the scraps of the veggie spiders as he opened his laptop and ordered some sketchbooks and pencils, and even a few other types of art supplies online before he could chicken out. He never quite stopped writing, stories being easy to hide from Norman or disguise as note-making in class, but he hadn’t actually drawn much since he was a kid. Maybe without Norman or Norman’s ghost above him anymore, he could try and focus on getting back into being an artist now. Something he actually enjoyed. What a novelty.
He closed the laptop and put the tea on to brew. He figured that Peter may be chased out of bed by him making noise soon enough anyway, and even if not, he could make his own tea later. Right now, Harry was getting hungry, and he was going to get started on that breakfast even if he was to do it alone.
„Morning?”
But he wasn’t going to have to, apparently, because once he put the laptop away, he run into a sleepy Peter in the hall. He was barefoot, his hair was a mess, and he was yawning, but Harry bit back a smile at seeing him in slightly too big flannel pyjamas. He looked adorable, and they fitted him much better now that he filled up with muscle, if still not perfect. There was silly satisfaction Harry got from being taller even after Peter’s hero transformation, actually.
„Morning. I made breakfast.”
Peter’s eyes widened in pleased confusion, and Harry stopped holding back the smile, laughing openly.
„I didn’t set anything on fire either.”
He turned to the kitchen, because otherwise he would end up staring at peter again. He forgot how right Peter looked here, like he belonged. There was a time when Peter was over a lot. He literally had a room that was secretly dubbed as his in Harry’s head.
„I didn’t think you would. And thanks for breakfast.” Peter sat down at the table and Harry watched him, waiting for the moment he realized. „Oh my God.”
Harry cackled quietly and went to pour the tea before it got too strong.
„Harry!” Peter sounded excited. It was nice. „Did you make me Spider-Man themed sandwiches!?”
„I made us Spider-Man themed sandwiches.” He tried to bite the ketchup Spidey face but Peter rescued it last moment so Harry settled on a bell pepper spider.
„Holy shit I think I’m in love. You drew that? With ketchup?! Jesus Harry, how are you this talented. Can I take a picture?” He nodded, watching Peter whip up a camera out of nowhere (where did that come from, he couldn’t have had it on as Spider-Man, could he?) and immortalize the portentous breakfast on film before taking a bite. „God, Harry. You’re really good at this. I forgot you were a great artist. You should draw more again.”
„Yeah, actually I’ve thought the same.” And just like that, the light-hearted atmosphere of the morning was gone. „I had to basically put my art away and hide it because of dad, you know. And then I was too busy hunting Spider-Man.”
Peter chewed through the last bite of his sandwich like he was in a death row last meal. Harry could already hear the apology only having his mouth full was stopping him from.
„Peter, it’s fine. I don’t wanna hear it.”
„Well, maybe I wanna say it?” Peter swallowed and looked at him. „I’m not going to stop feeling sorry, you know. And I want you to know that I am. And to apologize when emotions aren’t running high during a kidnapping and it doesn’t feel like I’m saving my ass--”
„I know you weren’t saving my ass, I’m pretty sure you’re incapable of lying, Peter. Just hiding the truth, I guess. You know, it’s funny, cause in retrospect so many things should have made this obvious. You were bad at hiding this, in fact. It just would never occur to me that you’d be a freaking superhero.”
Peter smiled sheepishly, a bit sad.
„I’m not the type, right? It helped plausible deniability.” He sighed and buried his face in his hands. „But I am sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I’m sorry for everything that happened between us, sorry that I couldn’t save Norman.”
And it took Harry a while to understand and half of a sleepless night but when he answered Peter, he meant it.
„I’m not.”
„What?”
Peter’s eyes were glassy and confused.
„I’m not sorry Norman is dead. Maybe I’ll go to hell for saying that but as much as I miss him, everything is so much easier without him, you know. If I could bring someone back, it wouldn’t be Norman. It would be May.”
And that was probably the wrong thing to say, because it was only after Peter started crying that Harry remembered May was also killed on a Spider-Man mission. Fuck.
„I... God, Peter, I’m so sorry, you know that wasn’t you fault.”
„Stop, God, Harry, stop.” He did, and let Peter cry it out, and drank his tea awkwardly. „You don’t even realize, do you, Harry? Yesterday I thought I lost you just like everyone else and now you’re back, or still here and you’re just too fucking perfect.”
Oh.
„May felt like she was immortal, you know. She was old, but she didn’t need help with anything, she was like a mom to me. The only mom I remembered. And even before her death, she busted Octavius over the head with her umbrella. It just still feels like a nightmare I will eventually wake up from.”
But he wouldn’t. Because she was dead, and dead people didn’t return, no matter how much they wanted. Harry wasn’t sure what to say to that, but thankfully Peter saved him by a slight topic change.
„I still haven’t unpacked all of her things. I don’t know what to do with them.”
„On that note.” He perked up. „Where do you live now, Peter?”
Peter looked at him, a bit put off, clearly not expecting the question.
„You know where. I have my own flat. I know things haven’t been the best since we stopped rooming together but I distinctly remember letting you know where to find me.”
„Yeah, but that must have been a mistake because I went there once and the building looked like it shouldn’t even be legally declared safe to live in.”
And there it was. That passing look of offense and hurt in Peter’s eyes that was a clear sign that yes, Peter in fact did live there.
„Well, not all of us are billionaires! There’s only so much a freelance job affords me in New York.”
„A freelance job snapping pictures of yourself. Peter... You can’t live like that. You basically have a full time physical job as a hero that goes unpaid, and try to fund that and your education and earn a living from just the Daily Bugle. Not to mention I’m not sure when do you sleep between all of that.”
„I don’t.” Peter turned away from him to avoid Harry’s pointed gaze. „I get by! I manage! What else am I supposed to do?”
And there it was. Harry took a deep breath because he already knew that his proposal wouldn’t go over well with Peter. Peter was too proud and defensive. Too stubborn. But they both were.
„You already have a room here.”
Peter stared at him for a longest time and then burst out laughing.
„You’re shitting me, Harry. You want me to move in here? To what, keep an eye on me? Or as a penance? To satisfy your guilt or as a charity case? I never befriended you for your money and I won’t start taking it now just because you know!”
„You’re an idiot, Peter, you know goddamn well that’s now what this is about! And charity isn’t bad, for goodness sake, stop acting so stuck up!”
„I’m acting stuck up? You’re the one flaunting your money in my face! I don’t need it!”
„But you do! You need stability, Peter! You need a real comfort of a home, not just a random roof over your head! Shelter isn’t everything, especially with a life as stressful as yours! And frankly, I’m concerned about your mental health and safety if you keep living there, all alone!”
„What, you think I’m unstable? Crazy? I’m not the one who tries to kill Spider-Man.”
Ouch.
And that was a low blow. Harry could see regret already beginning on Peter’s face but he took it. Because Peter was right.
„Maybe we both need help then. Maybe that’s why we need to help each other.”
„What, get couple’s therapy?” Peter mocked, but Harry refused to rise up to the bait.
„If that’s what it takes!”
It’s like the fight went out of Peter at it, like he suddenly understood that Harry was serious, and hunched on himself again, ashamed. Harry had a feeling that therapy may end up being something they need. If only it didn’t require more secret identities.
But apparently, Peter wasn’t done after all.
„Look, I am not gonna be your boy toy. I’m just a poor kid from Queens, I can’t live in a huge rich condo, I don’t belong here.”
And it was like something finally broke in Harry. Boiled over. Everyone assumed money solved everything. Everyone assumed that it mattered. Everyone thought they needed to somehow deserve it, like it would be worth more if won the hard way. But it was bullshit.
„And you think I do?!” He stood up, the chair loudly scraping against the floor as he begun to pace. „I haven't earned any of it either! Neither did my father! Everyone steals their first million, Peter. Money is corrupted and I don't belong here anymore than you do. Neither of us has worked for that, I was handed it down completely undeserving. So let's make a use of it at least.”
***
Peter grabbed the empty mug just to have something to do with his hands. The breakfast was eaten, the tea run out, the argument - discussion - conversation, whatever it was, fizzled out, if not got resolved, and they both were both calmer and still tense. Harry standing, leaning against the fridge.
"There's a family in that building, across from me. Father and daughter. He... Ditkovich needs that rent."
"Then it's good if someone moves in who actually pays it regularly, isn't it?"
Harry raised an eyebrow in a challenge, making an altogether too accurate assumption, and Peter sent him a dirty look. He didn't share his financial struggles with Harry... well, not recently, but Harry knew him since forever and could easily connect the dots between Peter's lack of a stable job, superhero hobby, and scholarship.
"Look, I'll buy the building!" Harry burst, moving to lean against the table, his whole body language changing from ready to fight to pleading. "They'll be fine, Pete."
"That's not what I meant!" To Harry, money was always the answer. And Peter understood that. He did. He knew Harry wasn't wrong, he just hated it. "I don't want you to--"
"You just said I can do what I want." Harry crossed his arms with a shrug. "Didn't you? Because it's my money! This isn't just about you. Would rather become homeless or live there rather than allow me to help these people and move in with me?! Yeah, we're in a... situation now. But we've been friends for years, Pete. We'll get through it. We already lived together in the past!"
"God, you asshole!" Harry knew him too well. Knew that Peter was soft and wanted Ursula to have a better kitchen and a part of him wanted what they had back in that loft before everything went... even more to shit. "You play dirty, Osborn. Fine!"
Harry grinned. And smiled sheepishly, as if feeling guilty and wanting to make it up to Peter for winning the argument. It hasn't been long since he found out but already Harry stepped into a role of a mother hen and tried his best to simultaneously boss Peter around and make it up to him when he did it.
"Give me the address." He said, and then after a moment of thought. "And five organizations of your choice, I'll donate a million to each. In the name of Spider-Man, okay? Consider it my atonement. For kidnapping the webslinger."
„You are such an asshole for being a good person.”
Harry laughed.
***
That afternoon, they decided to go to Peter’s flat and pack. They both needed a distraction and to get away from the loft. The office door was closed but inside the room was still a mess full of incriminating evidence. With a sigh, Harry opened the door and surveyed the mess. Nothing seemed to point obviously to Spidey or Peter, at least, it was just clear that Harry did something bad.
He silently made a note to buy some wood filler and patch up the bullet hole later. He didn’t want to hire anyone to do it and have them ask questions.
„I don’t have it in me to clean this up.”
He said to Peter, hearing him enter, stopping in the door.
„Can’t Bernard do that?”
Probably not the bullet hole, but everything else at least... Bernard wouldn’t tell. He was used to keeping secrets like that. He worked with his father for years after all. And then it hit him. He turned around to face Peter, apprehension on his face.
„Do you think Bernard knew?”
Peter opened his mouth, as if to answer, probably assure him immediately that of course not, Bernard would tell him, right? If not back when Norman was still alive, then certainly he would stop Harry from focusing on the revenge on Spider-Man, knowing that Norman wasn’t innocent.
Right.
Right?
„I think you should probably ask him.”
„If he knew, he is getting fired.”
He walked out, closing the office, Peter following behind him in silence.
„You’re not gonna try to talk me out of it?”
„No.” Peter followed him back into his room, approaching the suit, now fully dry. „I think it’s smart. If Bernard did know, he was basically aiding and abetting your father’s crimes.”
Peter took the suit, folding it carefully, holding it like something precious. Harry watched him, as if waiting for something. He wasn’t used to this version of Peter. Quiet, full of reflection and caution. Peter was usually clumsy, loud and reckless.
„Do you wear it underneath your normal clothes?”
„Yeah, usually.” He sighed and walked out, throwing it on his own bed and grabbing the wallet and his camera off his nightstand. „But not today. The police can do their job for once, I’m not in the mood.”
Harry ended up driving them. He was pretty sure the car would be at least scratched when they came back, because Peter’s neighborhood wasn’t the safest, especially for anyone who oozed money, but he didn’t care much. The building was just as shitty as Harry remembered, the stairs creaking under their steps as they climbed up, and Peter had to hit the door three times with his shoulder before it opened.
Peter.
Who had super strength.
Harry just raised an eyebrow and chose not to comment. The „flat” if it could be called that, was just a single room with one door leading to an even smaller bathroom with a shower. There was a few cupboards that counted as a kitchen and looked like Peter didn’t really use them much, mismatched windows that admittedly had their charm and a bed with a table.
And on the night table, he saw two photo frames. One had Ben and May, a bit younger than Harry remembered them but painfully familiar. And the other had... him. Smiling, and from that trip that Harry now knew was the day Peter got bitten by a spider. Peter told him he needed a picture for the school paper, but Harry never saw it published.
He wondered about that.
He smiled, and chose not to say anything, instead turning to the last, most attention-grabbing detail of the room. The giant wall of boxes from May’s. Harry got it now. There wasn’t exactly room to unpack any of it here, and even if there was, he didn’t consider the sheer amount of it. This was everything that May and Ben accumulated over the years. The physical task was a lot but the emotional toll this was going to take on Peter would be... it would be hard.
„Do you want to keep all of that?”
Peter looked at the mountain of boxes like it was a villain he couldn’t defeat and made a small noise before turning to Harry and pretending he was okay.
„No, I really don’t. Probably donate most of it and just keep some stuff that matters.” Harry put a hand on his shoulder, and guided him to sit on the bed before grabbing the first box. He was getting used to taking the lead, which was both familiar and not at once.
They made two smaller piles.
One for keepsakes, and one for the things to donate. They put some of it away without boxes, to pick up later, instead utilizing a few for Peter’s own belongings to move, and Harry called his driver at one point to come and get the car and swap it for a small truck.
The things to keep pile was slightly bigger so far, because most of the things May had where actually Peter’s once anyway. He didn’t keep much of actually her belongings, probably still feeling guilty and too freshly hurt, but Harry also snuck some more memorable things on the wrong pile „by accident”.
He figured they could still get rid of it later.
„I regret not telling her sometimes.” Harry looked up from a box of kitchenware to find Peter with another box full of old comics. „She told me she gave those away.” He waved one of the covers vaguely. „Guess she missed some. We talked about Spider-Man and she told me he inspired hope in people and...”
„..she was right.” Harry interjected.
„Maybe.” Peter turned around and put the comics on the pile of things to keep. „That was right after I told her that I was responsible for Ben’s death. But she told me that the world needs Spidey and it almost felt like she knew. I wanted to tell her, a lot of times, and I wish she knew that I tried so hard to make up for everything. But it’s probably better in the end. She would have worried.”
„She would. But she would be proud of you. You know, I miss her too.” Harry said, staring at the familiar pink china plate in his hands, a plate he ate mashed potatoes from in the past. „I never realized it, never appreciated it in the past, when I still had it, but May especially, and Ben too in a way, they became like second family to me. May was the closest thing I had to a mother since losing mine, and I wish I got to thank her for always welcoming me into your house despite the fact I wasn’t always showing proper manners.”
Peter smiled, and shook his head.
„If it makes you feel any better, you’re an asshole, but an asshole brought up well enough you never showed it around her. And she saw you as her kid as much as me. She knew. She had an instinct like that.”
„Yeah.” Harry sighed. „ She never liked Norman.”
The finished packing mostly in silence, sharing a few anecdotes from time to time when they found a familiar item. Eventually they carried everything to keep down to the car and fit it on the truck bed, and because neither of them thought of any tape or rope to bring and Peter had no self-preservation instincts, secured it with the webs.
And then Harry told Peter to wait in the car as he went back to grab a forgotten wallet, before he went back up and gave Ursula Peter’s last rent.
***
Harry made breakfast again. It was almost like he was a regular adult who had a solid grasp on his life. It made him feel good, so he figured he may have to start doing it more often, especially since he did end up firing Bernard after he learned the man was in on the Goblin’s secret.
He understood that being a butler to a rich family was a job that probably called for secrecy, but he drew the line at hiding criminal acts. Sure, he was on his best way to become a villain too last week but now Harry knew how to make french toast, and lived with a superhero, and turned over a new leaf as a law-abiding citizen.
He smiled when he saw the smell of sugar dragged Peter out of bed like he suspected. It was almost noon, admittedly, but the last few days, and months, and years, had them permanently exhausted. Even now, Peter looked only half awake. Harry smiled at him and grabbed powdered sugar from the cupboard because sugar was best consumed with more sugar.
„So how was your first night officially at your new home?”
Peter gave him a stink eye as he stole a plate from the cupboard (he dug out the mismatched one, he always did, ever since he was like five) and piled toast on it.
„I petulantly don’t wanna say thank you.” He begun, and Harry had to bite back a smile already. „And I am sure as hell not admitting you were right.” Harry gave up, allowing his smug grin to surface. „But it was nice to sleep without a cold draft under the window and the pipes rattling.”
Peter sighed, but it was in good spirit.
„I guess our friendship is safe again.” He answered, mock thoughtful. „I mean, since Peter Politeness Police Parker refused to thank me...”
He got a cloud of powdered sugar in the face for his effort. It was worth it.
But it wasn’t quite true. It would take a while for them to get back to what their friendship once was, but it was a start. They gave themselves a week off, sort off, just silently deciding not to bother with anything. Peter unpacked May’s things and cried some more, Harry decided to put his father’s old things in the garbage or donate them and didn’t cry, and they watched the newest Star Wars movies despite Harry thinking they were bad, because Peter insisted they need to be prepared for the premiere of the last one.
And after a week, Harry went back to work, Peter managed to sell Bugle some photos that weren’t selfies and at night... he went out in the suit. It took Harry a few days and vigilante trips to realize because Peter was good at it, but eventually the strange lack of awareness of Peter was what ticked him off. He realized that Peter was avoiding him whenever he went out as Spider-Man, even if Harry was still awake, hid and stayed quiet and changed as soon as possible, even if he was hurt.
He was trying not to rub it in, still thinking about the way that secret was what drove the wedge between them.
But that was all the more reason to not let it continue that way. So the next time, Harry listened more carefully. Made sure that only the windows in the living room would be open, closed Peter’s own, and stayed up, and when Peter had no other way to come back in other than through him, he faced his startled friend with a smile, and pushed Peter to the bathroom to offer him some cream for those bruises.
Peter healed fast, but Harry hoped that it would help heal more than just the scrapes and wounds.
***
Harry trapped him.
Peter shouldn’t be surprised that he managed, he did kidnap Spider-Man even before they lived together, after all, but he didn’t expect that to happen now after his secret was out in the open. Okay, he sort of tried to treat the secret as if it wasn’t there. He didn’t want to remind Harry about... everything.
But Harry clearly didn’t think the same, because Harry closed his window, which meant that Harry wanted him to come in through the living room, and so Peter did, and it was rather weirdly normal. Harry even chastised him for not being more careful (that was already being careful!) and gave him some cream for the bruises.
Not that Peter would need it. He healed fast.
But Harry clearly didn’t get that memo either. It became a pattern. Every now and then, soon almost every night that Harry wasn’t too tired after work or had a day off he would stay up, wait for Peter to come back from patrolling and then patch his wounds, all the while muttering under his nose about being careful and sometimes even washing the suit in his hands.
And then Peter realized.
It took a few weeks, but it finally sunk in, and it’s like some last very tense muscle in his body relaxed and he finally settled in, as Harry applied antiseptic to a nasty cut, and Peter hissed in pain and Harry jokingly mocked him for not being fast enough, but there was some underlying worry under that light tone.
And Peter understood.
That this was Harry’s way or saying it. Telling Peter he worried. Telling Peter he was okay with Spidey. That he loved Peter. Platonic, romantic, he didn’t know for sure, but it didn’t matter. Harry loved him.
***
Living with Harry again was good. Peter was familiar with the penthouse from the sleepovers as a kid, and familiar with living with Harry from the freshman year in college, and familiar with Harry, because Peter never really had friends, he just had Harry, and that entire time they were fighting he missed him.
And yes. The mattress was extremely soft, and Harry had a point. He got it from Norman, and its not like Norman was a good man, and they could make use of it.
The thing was - Osborn penthouse was much more comfortable than the dingy apartment he rented from Dietkovich, or the small loft he and Harry shared before, or even May’s house, although May’s house would always feel more like home. But none of it mattered. Because there was one thing that always hit the same in every bed.
Nightmares.
Except... Did they? The one problem with nightmares was dealing with them alone. Because he had no one living with him, or because he couldn’t wake May up when she had to go to work in the morning and he was no longer five, or because he couldn’t wake Harry because it was just awkward and his nightmares were Spider-Man related.
But now Harry knew, and neither of them had anything to do the next morning, and Harry understood, and it was still a bit fragile and fresh but it started to feel like maybe they were closer than ever before now.
Before he even realized what he was doing, Peter’s feet carried him on their own and he found himself standing in Harry’s doorway. It ws 3am, he noticed on Harry’s clock. It had big flaps that were wonderfully noisy in a good way. He didn’t really realize Harry apparently slept with his door open. He wasn’t sure what he was planning to do, what he would have done if the door was closed. It was an impulse action, to come here, but sometimes events just line up like that.
That Peter came to the door, that the door was open, that he woke up from a nightmare but that Harry, in the meantime, hasn’t fallen asleep at all just yet.
Harry turned around, having heard Peter enter, and his eyes were sleepy but still clearly alert.
„Can’t sleep either?” He asked, and made a gesture with his hand, as if inviting Peter in. Peter shook his head as he quickly run across the room and slid under the covers next to Harry because the floor was cold and he was barefoot.
„I did sleep. Had a nightmare.”
„About Spidey stuff?” Harry asked, and it was casual. Peter was almost surprised about how casual it was. He wasn’t sure when everything went back to normal. And now it was like they were eight years old again, sharing a bed during a sleepover and talking about things.
„About May falling, actually.”
Harry just grabbed his hand and squeezed. Peter turned to his side, abandoning the fascinating landscape of the ceiling to face Harry, when his gaze caught it. He lifted himself up on one elbow to see better and saw Harry’s brow furrow in confusion as he tried to twist his neck enough to see without changing his comfortable position.
„The photos.” He explained. „You have our photo on your nightstand. Next to a photo of your mom.” Not his parents. His mom. The photo of Peter and Harry wass actually also from a sleepover, but at May and Ben’s house. They were playing with lego and ignoring the camera. Peter lay back down to face Harry.
„Have you always had that here?”
„Yeah.” Harry hummed. „Only two pictures I ever had on my nightstand.” He was avoiding Peter’s gaze, as if he was a bit ashamed of it. „I never moved it, even in the past two years.”
„Of your mom and... me? Not your father?”
Harry just raised an unimpressed eyebrow and Peter got it in some ways, because yeah, now Harry knew Norman was literally evil, and he was never the greatest dad, but Peter’s heart was almost bursting under the pressure of a realization that he was more important to Harry than his own father.
„I only keep pictures of people I love and who love me by the bed.” He said, and shrugged, and it really was that simple, wasn’t it? They never had anyone but each other.
So Peter took the leap of faith, and it felt like the first time he jumped off a building, swinging, but better. He leaned in and kissed Harry and Harry kissed back. It was slow and soft, and gentle. They didn’t mention it as they pull apart but there was a silent understanding in their eyes. A „this isn’t something we won’t even talk about again” kind of thing, a „this matters” kind of look.
„I missed you.” Peter whispered.
„I am here now. I will be here.” Answered Harry, and they fell asleep still holding hands.