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The fresh powdered snow descended upon Queens, clinging to the paned windows of their old home. The unique pattern of each flake could be clearly seen before the inside humidity quickly melted them. It was mesmerizing. The perfect weather for a day like today. Peter could only hope that the criminals of New York would stay as in line as these flakes without a certain bug-themed crime-fighter having to disrupt his holiday to entertain them. Maybe the comfy vibes of Christmas day would keep the likes of Herman and Dillon in check. Though, that’s a biggg maybe. At least Alexei is put away for now 'cause he’s always 10x more pissed around Christmas time.
Nonetheless, he won’t let the looming dread of joyless psycho-saps ruin his day. He’d already done that a couple of weeks ago and it nearly cost him Harry. ‘Cost him Harry’ Well, that might be ever so slightly dramatic but seriously I had never seen him actually angry with me before…I really really didn’t like it. While that visible anger only lasted a few minutes, Pete could tell things were far from back to normal. That’s why he had his wonderful movie idea…which like most decisions sprouted from his mind, backfired horribly. A typical hangout turned into some sickening rom-com meet cute. Why the hell would he invite that guy? That day was supposed to be a chance to make amends with Harry and make sure his buddy knew how sorry he was. His list of mistakes seems to only grow right alongside a long list of apologies.
Talking. Peter’s never been great at it. While he’s apologized to Harry more times than he can count…he’s positive it’s in one ear and out the other. At some point, words are just that, words. Meaningless wind fluttering from his dishonest mouth, a waste of both of their time. He means it, of course, he means it, but damnit. C’mon Pete it hasn’t been all bad. That same day MJ held his hand. In public. She even flirted with him? At least he thinks he remembers that he might’ve blacked out for a few. No worries, he’ll have plenty of time to embarrass himself further!
Sounds of diligent whisking could be heard from the kitchen as Pete and MJ wrapped Green and red tinsel around the banister of the stairs. All three were working hard to set up for their annual Christmas party. MJ had been here for about an hour already. Considering she lived so close and was in attendance to the last two Parker Christmases, it was no surprise when she texted Pete this morning expressing how she’d be over soon to help set up. With a racing heart, Peter sent back a quick ‘Awesome!!’, refraining from using capitals or dozens more exclamation points.
Aunt May picked out her favorite Christmas CD with all of the classics. Currently ‘Let It Snow’ was playing from an old gray stereo that Pete had fixed up more than a few times. He hummed along to the catchy tune in his head.
The two could smell the freshly baked gingerbread wafting from the kitchen and up the oak stairs, invading their senses.
MJ inhaled deeply with closed eyes before huffing in excitement and meeting Pete’s gaze. She didn’t seem to notice Peter already staring at her, or she simply didn’t mind. “Agh man! You said she hasn’t done this in how long?”
Pete had in fact been staring for the last few minutes. His hands worked the tinsel around the banister without fail. Strange as it sounds, when it came to sneaking glasses at MJ, Peter suddenly became an expert at multitasking. Even with the intense ginger and allspice fragrance in the air, his trained nose caught hints of her strawberry shampoo and vanilla cinnamon perfume. When those gorgeous bright blue eyes met his light brown nearly-hazel ones, he felt his heart skip a beat. “Long time. Not since…don’t think she’s gone all out like this since Ben.”
“Ah.” She watched Pete’s expression fall ever so slightly and whisked some green tinsel around his neck, pulling him closer in a controlled movement. “Sorry to bring down the mood. We can talk about my familial strifes instead, yeah?” MJ sported her classic half-smirk that never failed to make Peter blush in seconds. This time was no different and his mind was quickly shifted from his somber thoughts.
“S-sure.” Peter stammered. Christ MJ… Part of his flustered mind was wondering how she managed to convince her father to let her hang here on Christmas of all days, but didn’t want to risk scrounging her jovial mood. But if she’s insisting, “Your…dad?”
Her smile didn’t waver. “His Christmas present to himself was a 24-pack,” She sighed, “and a couple bottles of whiskey, so my calendar should be clear all day. The next few days really.” Peter frowned and she ran a reassuring hand through his astonishingly dorky hair. “Would you be mad if I left in a couple hours to go make sure he’s y’know still breathing? I’ll be back as soon as I can but…yeah.”
His heart wrenched with sympathy for her. They've both been forced to grow up due to cruel twists of a funny little thing called fate. “MJ you shouldn’t have to-“
“Hey, it’s okay really. I’m used to it.” That response did nothing to ease his worries but her warm gaze was nearly enough to convince him. “Today’s supposed to be the most happy time of the year. I’m not letting him ruin it for me, so you don’t worry one bit either, alright Tiger?” MJ smiled brightly, her freckles almost glittering against her skin…or Peter was imagining that? Who’s to say?
“Alright MJ. Just…I’m here for you. You know that right?” And he always will be.
I always will be.
One thing about Peter, he’ll fight tooth and nail for those he loves. And he’ll mean that as literally as he has to to keep them safe. With all the strife this bite has wrought upon him, he’s thankful to possess the strength to protect those he loves if he ever has need. Though in an ideal world, there’d never be a need for that. Safe and sound. Happy and healthy. Here and alive. That's all he wants. Is that too much to ask? He can’t lose anyone else. He just can’t.
MJ’s gentle hand resting on his cheek sweeps him out of his own head. “I know, Pete.” Her smile is less bright than before but it held infinitely more weight behind it. “Now c’mon, we’ve gotta get these decorations up before Har gets here.”
Right. Harry’s coming! I can’t wait. To have his two favorite people together again, agh, Peter is giddy just thinking about it.
They finish up by lining four adorable tinsel candy canes equidistant along the banister. Peter sighs and wonders what there’s left to do. This morning May already worked wonders on their home before he even had a chance to brush his teeth. Multi-colored lights framed their kitchen pass and bright red stockings hung above the fireplace. It was two years ago when they all decorated their own stocking. He’ll always remember burning a good three layers of his skin off with that damn hot glue gun, but the little foam spiders dotted along his stocking was totally fucking worth it.
His eyes fell upon a single cardboard box left on the dining table that was draped in a new cloth that sported a pattern of reindeer and pine trees. That’s probably the last of the decorations! Peter makes his way over, adjusting his Christmas sweater -that of course matched MJ’s- before looking at the contents of the box.
There are a few tiny faux-wrapped gifts, some assorted pine cones, and loose ornaments that don’t quite match the red and gold theme May has been going with for their tree the past couple of years. Huh, is there anything worthwhile in here-oh. Heh. Peter spots a decorative mistletoe and gets a mischievous glint in his eye. It could be funny. Also super fucking embarrassing. She’ll know he’s joking, right?
There’s only one way to find out.
Pete grabs a small black lever out of his pocket and connects it to one of his web shooters. Man, he really should find a more inconspicuous way to keep these on at all times… problems for another day. He tosses the mistletoe up and webs it to the ceiling before walking behind MJ, clearing his throat loud enough to get her attention. Whatever quips he had readied died on his tongue. Mary Jane’s perfectly kempt hair rippled like captivating red waves as she turned towards him.
She wore a curious look before taking notice of the mistletoe hanging above by tiny white strands. “Peter…” It was said through a very amused giggle. “You’re so dumb.”
He feels so dumb. Why did he think this was a good idea? Before he could chastise himself further his eyes widened as MJ leaned in close. Is this it? Is it finally happening..? Years of him embarrassing himself, tripping over his words, dreaming of those perfect lips meeting his…it’s all led to this.
He felt his heart stop as she placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.
Disappointment and then relief? If his knees were feeling weak from a simple kiss on the cheek, there’s no way he’d be conscious after a real kiss with MJ. So yes, Peter is slightly relieved that she took mercy on him. He swallowed down ludicrous amounts of saliva, “I-isn’t so weird that a poisonous parasitic plant became associated with k-kissing..?”
She pulled away, laughing at his face and even more at his stupid fun fact before using a finger to push his glasses back into place. “Mhm, it’s very weird Pete. Let’s go see if May needs any help in the kitchen.”
“Y-yeah. Good idea.” He lets her walk past him and sighs as soon as she’s out of earshot. She’s really… Pete smiles as he watches her already helping out his aunt. Out of fear of sounding like a cliche, Peter never said aloud how surprising it was that someone like him could find love. Someone so much and for all intents and purposes, extremely strange. Especially to find love in someone like Mary Jane. Someone so self-assured and so damn determined. It’s honestly awe-inspiring to hear her go on about a story that she’s passionate about. She could go on for hours and Pete would hang on every single word.
As embarrassed as he is to say it, it’s always been her. He doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but seeing her call out Flash on his ridiculous behavior just two weeks into the semester…I mean if that doesn’t make him respect someone then what will? That was just the start of the most conflicting two years of his entire life. Then he was forced to blur the lines between Peter and Spider-Man when he revealed his identity to her. To make a terribly sad long story short, he’s glad it happened. Glad to have someone to fall back on when Spider-Man gets to be too much for his other friend Peter. I’d truly be so lost without her. He blinks away the tears that have welled up in his eyes before making his way to the kitchen, ready to help however he can.
It was cold. Too cold. And this searing hot shower did little to amend this fact. He read somewhere that showers too hot could dry out your skin so today he’ll slather on extra lotion just in case.
If he’s lucky maybe this steam will cause him to pass out and not have to deal with today. It’ll be a true Christmas miracle if the fall sends him to an early grave. Shut up brain. That’s not funny.
Forgive the young Osborn, he just isn’t finding there’s much joy to be had today. Waking up in a cold empty penthouse with not so much as a morsel of Christmas cheer present will do that to you. It wasn’t even like this last year. That time his father at least bothered to pay someone to decorate their home. Now, however, Norman wasn’t even here this morning. Harry finished up in the bathroom, his damp curls clung to his forehead as he scanned their home. Tch, ‘home’. This place hasn’t felt like a home in years. That feeling died with his mother. If only he’d gone along with her…
Suddenly Harry heard a buzz coming from the loudspeaker near their elevator. Strange. Harry made his way over and pressed the button as he spoke in as professional as a voice he could muster. “Yes, Felicity? This is Harry.” Felicity Adams. This woman had only been working downstairs a few months so Harry hadn’t gotten a chance to really know her yet.
“Mr. Osborn, Francis is on his way up with a few items for you.”
‘Mr. Osborn’ Something about that makes his skin crawl.
Harry audibly huffs out “Huh?” in confusion. Hoping she didn’t hear, he rolls his eyes at himself before ending with a quick, “Alright, thank you, Felicity.” He swears he can be formal if he must but right now his mind just wasn’t in the correct headspace.
His t-shirt clung to his freshly washed back as he waited in bated breath for the elevator doors to open. A second later they did. Revealing Francis in his usual formal attire only this time he had a tiny tree and a small paper bag with him. The old man smiled fondly at Harry. “Merry Christmas sir, I’ve purchased a few things for you. Now I know you and your mother used to decorate even the elevator with the most lovely-“
The man was cut off by a crushing hug from Harry.
“Now sir, there’s not a need for…” Francis huffed a small chuckle as Harry held him tighter.
This is unprofessional. But Harry couldn’t help himself. Francis has always been so kind to him. Gone out of his way when he truly didn’t have to. Take him to May’s after a particularly heated argument with his father. No matter the time Francis would be there to drive him. Yes, it’s his job, but wouldn’t you feel bad waking up an older man at 3 am cause you want to go see your best friend? Harry slowly let go of him when he was sure no tears were going to escape his eyes. “Thank you, Francis.”
The man gave a quick nod before placing the tree and bag against a wall. “Your father needed some extra time to finish his work, so forgive me but we might be fashionably late to your friend’s party.”
Of course, they are. “Well if it’s fashionably late, that’s not the end of the world.” Harry managed a small smile despite himself and the sadness looming over him. “Are you leaving to get him now?”
“Prescient as always sir. I promise to be back as soon as I can.” Francis ended with a small bow before entering the elevator and giving Harry one last smile before the elevator doors closed.
Harry releases a long sigh before picking up his gifts and taking them to his room. The tiny tree was of surprisingly good quality. How Francis managed to get this on Christmas Day was beyond him. Then again there’s very little he knew of that old Frenchman. Little bits he’s picked up over the years include but definitely aren’t limited to; proficient culinary skills, exquisite driving, and most or least surprising, his expert marksmanship. He’s tried to ask Norman about the Frenchman before but was quickly discouraged with a cliche ‘That’s adult business.’ Which is hilarious given all the things Norman wants to shove on his plate now that is miles over the line of ‘adult business’. But, Whatever.
Harry takes the small bag and dumps the contents on his mattress. Just what he’d suspected, decorations for the tiny tree. He once again finds himself close to tears. Especially as he recalls the last time he did this…
After finally placing the last container near the foot of the tree, Harry sighed in relief before giving his mother a bright smile that she reciprocated instantly. His muscles ached slightly but that smile was enough to alleviate any discomfort. Well, it used to. Her smile didn’t look the same without her full rabbit-like cheeks to accompany it. Her eyes lacked the typical luster that Harry wished he’d inherited cause it made her that much more beautiful. She wore thick cardigans that she would’ve been thankful for if Norman gifted them to her and then turned to Harry and commented how ‘old-lady-like’ they were. He knows she hates these cardigans but they’re the only clothing that’s comfortable and thick enough to hide her slender frame. His mother only seemed to be getting smaller by the day. She’s almost unrecognizable from the woman depicted in the superfluous Osborn family portrait.
Part of him wished he’d invited Peter to help him cope with having to see her like this…which sounds horrible cause how can he at all complain when she’s still here? She’s still here and that’s all that matters. So why does it hurt so fucking badly? God, he really wished Peter were here. With that slender hand wrapped around his own, Harry’s positive he can accomplish anything. But his buddy’s going through his first major holiday without Ben and Harry feels like he has some idea what that must feel like. He’s definitely going to be calling Peter tonight or maybe…maybe Francis would be willing to take him later. No. No. He’d feel guilty leaving his mother for a single minute this close to Christmas.
Harry opens one of the containers and grabs a coil of lights, “We going with white this year ma?” He says, knowing full well the likelihood of getting a chance to do this with her again is all but zero. Norman constantly tells him he’s not losing his mother. She’s going to be fine. That he’s working hard every day to find a solution, but Harry knows the truth. Harry isn’t plagued by the same delusions as his father. There’s no hope to be found here. She’s fading. She’s fading and instead of being here to cherish these moments with them Norman is off somewhere frantically finding a way to save her but it’s pointless! What’s the fucking point?
“I think the white would look lovely.” His mother’s voice was the same. That hadn’t changed and he’s eternally grateful for that. Harry starts from the top of the tree as he coils the lights around it. This year they downscaled the tree cause they didn’t want Emily to exert herself too much when decorating it. How silly they were to be even that hopeful. Now she was bound to a wheelchair. It’s been that way for a couple of weeks now. It’s further proof that she’s fading but Norman just doubled down on his efforts and doubled down on his time away from his family. “See told you it’d look beautiful.”
He plugged it in for a second to see if he placed the lights well, unplugging after he was satisfied. “I never doubted you for a second ma.” He strolled around before kneeling in front of the plastic containers. “Mkayyy. Hmmm, wow there’s so many random ass ornaments in here.”
“Language Harry.” He muttered a quick sorry before Emily replied, “But I agree, lots of random ass ornaments in there.” They both settled into a soft fit of laughter that gradually grew as Harry nearly fell backward. He really really missed this. Even her laugh was the same. An incredibly unique laugh that sounded almost like a cat screeching . It’s seriously sounds so insane- Then his mother’s laughter turned into a coughing fit and a fresh dose of reality hit Harry like a freight train. He quickly got up and kneeled at the front of her wheelchair, rubbing her shoulder soothingly. “Mom, are you okay?”
She coughed into her elbow a few more times before her other hand sifted through Harry’s curls. Smiling, she said, “I’m alright.” Her hand glided through his hair again as she saw the worry painted all over her son’s face. “My sweet boy.” Harry had to resist the urge to cry right there. He thought he was ready for this. But how does one prepare themselves to lose their favorite person, the sole rock holding him to this earth? It isn’t quick either. He gets to watch his mother slowly erode, washed away by the raging river of Oshtoran Syndrome. It isn’t fair. It’s just not fair.
She pats his cheek. “I’ll be fine. Now c’mon let’s finish this tree!”
“Okay, ma.” So they did.
Harry did most of the heavy lifting but she added ornaments where she felt necessary. Even though it made Emily sad to know this tree had been chopped specifically for them, contributing to the plastic waste of traditional Christmas trees would’ve made her much more upset. Just one example of Emily’s boundless kindness and sympathy. Harry only hopes he can make her proud by doing his best to continue her efforts once she’s gone. It pains him to speak with such finality but there’s no room in his heart for hope.
Once they were nearly done, Harry could tell how drained she was. Her eyes were sunken in. Her breathing was more ragged. She struggled to lift that final ornament and he wanted to give everything to her. His youth, his energy, his life. He fought back tears as her outstretched limbs shook in exertion. Why her? Why’d it have to be her? Not my mom. Anyone but my mom. He rushed over to assist her, hands cradling hers as she pinched the hook around the limb of the pine tree. She smiled up at him and even that looked as if it fatigued her.
He couldn’t stand much more of this and he hated himself for it. “Want me to take you to your room, Mom?”
“Yes. Thank you, dear.” He nodded with a smile before walking behind her and grabbing the handles of the chair. Tears fell on his trembling hands. He tried to keep it together for her he really tried his best, but fuck was it difficult. Thankfully he wasn’t full-on sobbing just yet so she didn’t seem to notice. He rolled her towards her bedroom which looked more like a hospital room than anything else these days. There were machines beside her bed that looked nothing like your average bedside monitor or insulin pumps. Harry doesn’t want to know what experimental shit Norman’s subjecting his mother to. Does it even matter? None of it is gonna work.
After helping her to bed, he drew the drapes back to allow as much natural light in as possible just like Emily preferred. He brought a lounging chair from the other side of the room and tucked it near her bed so he could sit beside her. He held her hand and laid his head upon it. Now he really couldn’t stop himself from succumbing to the alluring grasp of profound sadness.
She’s not going to see him graduate. See him grow, grow up into a man she can be proud of. See him marry. See him raise kids of his own. It’s not guaranteed she’ll even make it to Christmas in less than a week. She could breathe her last breath in his arms right now.
Mom…
He felt her squeeze his hand weakly and couldn’t help the anguished sob that left his throat. He’s so selfish. So fucking selfish. How dare he fall apart in front of her like this? This is the last thing she needs right now.
“Harry, my sweet boy. I’m gonna be fine. Your father is working hard right now to help me. You don’t have to waste your tears on me.”
Liar…
He sniffled before hesitantly making eye contact with her, leaning into the touch of her hand that gently cradled his cheek. “Mommy’s tired alright? Why don’t you go see Peter or Mary Jane? I’m sure they’d be much better company than me.” She forced out a soft chuckle. “I’m not going anywhere, son. Please go out. Enjoy your day! I’ll be here when you get back.”
We don’t know that.
He turned his head slightly to kiss her palm. “Okay, Mom. I will.” He stood up and wiped his eyes before leaning down to kiss her forehead. “I love you.” She didn’t hesitate to say it back with a kiss on his cheek. He balled his fists as he started walking away, “Goodbye ma.”
“Try again. What did we talk about?”
Harry laughed dryly. “Right. I’ll see you later Mom.” He didn’t believe his words.
“Yes, you will.” She shooed with a hand, “Now go, have fun dear!”
As soon as her door closed, the young Osborn crumbled to the floor and continued to weep for what seemed like hours until his father found him.
Harry is staining his mattress with tears as he messily drapes lights around this tiny tree. It’s gotta be the most pathetic sight, but Harry is finding some comfort in the humor of it all. Here he is sobbing alone in his room on Christmas morning while decorating a laughably piteous tree and staring at a picture of when he was truly happy. A knife through the heart would’ve been preferable to this. This…this fucking bullshit! Where is Norman? Where’s his ‘father?’ What’s so important that he can’t be here with me?! Harry seethes as he sees red for a moment, throwing the tree gifted to him across the room, several ornaments shattering on impact with a few rolling across the wooden floor. “Fuck!” He screamed through a cry.
He felt his eyes welling up once more. On that painful edge between icy sadness and red-hot anger, his mind couldn’t decide which path to follow. Which was worse? Mourning his dead mother, or being angry that his father’s the one that survived?
What an awful thing to think…he didn’t mean it. He loves his dad. Even if that man makes it incredibly difficult sometimes. Harry sat on the edge of his bed and exhaled a shaky breath. “Stop crying so much.” His eyes land on his birthday present and he lays the frame face down. He doesn’t want to go to Peter’s anymore. The thought of being around all of them right now doesn’t settle well with him, especially if his father’s going to be there. Yeah, I’ll just text Dad and tell him we don’t have to go. Harry picks up his phone and it immediately buzzes with a message.
‘Hey buddy are you close? MJ and I can't wait to see youuuuu’ Attached was a picture of his best friends wearing the most awful Christmas sweaters and smiling like complete idiots. Peter’s adorable hair was adorned with a ridiculous pair of felt antlers.
He couldn’t help but smile at the photo. They’re such morons.
Forget everything he said before. All he wants is to be there with them, trapped between them, embraced in their arms. Okay fine, no sulking today, he’s gonna try to have an okay Christmas…right after he sweeps up this mess.
The rumbling of the car driving atop the snow is almost comforting to his unsteady heart as they near May's neighborhood. Norman is dressed in his usual blazer and dress pants, only now his green tie seems to finally match the ‘vibe’ of the season. Harry’s wearing his usual skinny jeans. He considered a suit jacket if only to put a cute Christmas tree pin he’d found on one of the lapels, but today wasn’t at all formal. And he didn’t want it to feel that way either. Cozy winter weather holiday nonsense is what Harry was looking forward to. Though with his father’s presence today being one of snowstorms and blistering cold, he’s not going to be holding out hope for that.
Before entering the car his father smiled, hugged him, and wished him a merry Christmas. It was normal. It was exactly what Harry had expected but as they parked outside of May's home, there’s a nagging feeling in his chest.
“Thank you, Francis.” Harry opened the car door and prepared to take his leave but his left hand was stopped by a tug on his sleeve. He looked over to Norman’s vacant expression, “Yeah, Dad?”
There was the faintest inkling of remorse in the small movement of his father’s eyebrows. “I won’t be joining you son, but make sure you tell everyone I wish them well.”
That familiar anger rose once again, “What?” He tried to hide his obvious contempt. “Dad it’s Christmas…” As if that mattered to Norman. He decided to try a different approach. “Mays expecting us. Both of us.” Norman didn’t waver. “I know you want to brag about your large donation to Feast. You can’t do that if you don’t come with me.” He tried on a small laugh but humor wasn’t working either. Navigating a conversation like trials of some experiment probably isn’t what a normal person does but it’s all he can do to not lose his shit right now. Why was he trying so hard with this man who never gave him the light of day?
Norman put a gentle hand atop his sons. “Harry,” The sincerity poured into the soft touch was almost enough for Harry to let his guard down. “I’ve got more important things to do than spend my time-“ Harry pulled his hand away in an instant. How silly of him to think this man -who hardly resembled the father he once knew- would’ve been capable of understanding what this day meant to him. Maybe that kind man was never there to begin with. He was fine…with not spending his birthday with Norman. That was totally fine. But this…he’s getting tired of changing his words for others' benefit. Everyone around him seems to love hurting him so why should he care?
“Right, more important things to do! I understand. Go, please. Work on your precious mayoral campaign, don’t let me keep you.”
“I didn’t mean more important that was a poor choice of words-“
“No. No, it’s exactly what you meant and that’s fine. I’d like to spend my holiday with people that actually care about me so please go.” Harry swung the door open and got out of the car as swiftly as he could.
“Harry.” He didn’t look back. “Harry!” He started walking now. “Harold Osborn look at me this instant!”
“What?!” He shoved his hands in his pockets before turning around, tears threatening to leave his lids.
Norman's face softened when he met Harry’s glassy eyes. Then he sighed and put on a face Harry knew all too well. Yup, here it comes. “You’re acting like a petulant child. You’re nearly a grown man. Surely you understand silly traditions come secondary when there’s important work to be done.”
Harry clenched his jaw and cursed his own weakness as tears started streaming.
“Look, c’mere.” Norman held his hands out through the car window. “C’mere Harry.”
And he did. His father’s arms wrapped around his shoulders and stayed there for a brief moment. “I understand you’re upset, but there’s truly no reason to be.“ Harry feels numb as Norman pats his back. “I’ll have Francis make you your favorite when he comes to get you okay?”
“Okay.”
There was another pat on his back and then his father was driven away. Harry was left there, alone. Standing a few steps off the curb and into the street. He imagined taking a few steps forward and being whisked away by a speeding truck. Whisked away into a better reality. His mother would be there. There to tell him that there’s nothing more important than family and her love for him. Peter and MJ would shower him with bone-breaking hugs and endless affection. He’d be able to hold Peter’s hand in public, kiss his cheek in their favorite restaurant booth, and look over to see MJ smiling at them happily. The perfect life… yeah right.
Petulant child. Apparently, he’s a petulant child for wanting to spend time with his father. What he really is, is naive for believing Norman would’ve been any different this year. He really should get out of this street before he does something irreparably stupid.
He took a deep breath before turning towards May's house. It looked even more festive. He and Pete did a good job. Pete nearly fell only half a dozen times but all their effort really paid off and if memory serves there are more additions as well! A few inflatable snowmen now took shelter on mays snowy lawn. As he walked up the rickety steps he admired the gorgeous wreath hanging on the front door. He’s almost positive May made it herself. Only she could make something so simple and yet wonderfully elegant at the same time.
Alright, alright. Friends! Christmas! Yay...You’re fine. You’re going to be fine. Harry tried to swallow down his anxiety as he knocked on the front door. He heard something clatter to the ground followed by a loud “Peter!”, in the background. Harry snickered, hoping whatever Peter just dropped wasn’t too important. Peter being a clutz isn’t surprising but didn’t that mean Pete was rushing to the door? He’s that excited to see me?
The door was quickly pulled open and Harry didn’t have time to adjust to the bright lights, the even brighter colors on Peter’s sweater, the stupid antlers he was still wearing, or the strong ginger scent invading his nose before he was pulled into a crushing hug by the lanky- no. Not lanky. He knows now that Peter is anything but lanky. He tried not to think about that as he returned the hug with just as much passion. “Woah! H-hey Pete. Merry Christmas.”
Peter took a deep breath as he nuzzled Harry’s neck, cautious of his stupid antlers. “Hey, buddy. I missed you so much. You have no idea how much I need you right now.”
Harry’s face turned the same shade as Peter’s sweater. Missed me? Needs me?! “I-I’m sorry? I mean- what’s- ah what’s up?”
Peter pulled away to look up at him with one of Harry’s favorite expressions. Pete made this face when he procrastinated an essay until the night it was due, when he nearly ate it as they biked home together, and every time Harry caught him taking pictures whenever the light shone against his curls just right. He would never get tire of this expression.
Peter exhaled slowly. “MJ. She- she kissed me and like I made some stupid joke it was…oh my lord it was a mess, Har.”
Oh.
“S-she kissed you?” Ignore your wretched heart, Harry. Please ignore your stupid bleeding heart.
“Well, on the cheek but I still flipped the fuck out.” Peter stood up straight before shivering. “Come inside man it’s cold as- well I was gonna say hell but…whatever, just come inside.” The strong arm around Harry pulled him inside before closing the door behind him. He caught sight of red hair toiling in the kitchen beside May. MJ . There’s guilt festering for not feeling as excited as he did minutes ago at the prospect of seeing her.
“Let me get this for you buddy.” Peter unzips his jacket and pulls it off him with the most genuine smile. You’d think after years of this Harry would get used to Peter’s strange acts of affection, but no. “There we go.” He pats Harry’s shoulders, slowly dragging his fingertips along the expensive fabric. “This a new shirt?” He bit his lip before releasing it, leaving a light sheen of saliva that Harry simply could not handle right now. “You are not gonna be happy with what we cover this cuteness up with.”
Peter is still caressing his shoulders and Harry is doing his best to maintain eye contact without dying on the spot. Me? Cuteness? Hold up- cover? “Wait-huh? Cover up?”
“Don’t worry about it.” He smirked, ruffling Harry’s hair in a way that made his stomach churn. “You’re tense buddy. Something happen?” Pete’s eyes flicker in remembrance. “Wait, yeah. Where’s your dad? Wasn’t he coming?”
Fuck. No-no this is cool. We can deal with this Harry. Just…smile and wave. It’ll be alright.