Archive of Our Own

“Happy will be here in a minute.” Harley said, his breath visible in the cold air. Snow was pelting around him, and his boots were saving him from the growing piles at his feet. 

“You said that 30 minutes ago.” Harry responded, annoyance creeping at his tone. He stood in the doorway, his arms crossed. The warmth was inviting, but Harley did not want to take it. It meant being in debt to Harry, and Harley would not be in debt to Harry Osborn. “Is it even safe to drive anymore? The roads are iced and it’s almost 6 inches.” 

“You don’t know Happy.” Harley responded, staring out into the blurry white. It was almost as bland and uninteresting as the house. White, white, white. Harley was sick of it. He didn’t even want to come, but Gwen dragged him so the group could hang out at his place. What made it worse was Peter couldn’t come and now Happy was late and he was stuck. 

Harry’s jaw clenched and he rolled his eyes. “Just wait inside, okay? You’re gonna get sick if you stand out here.” 

Harley said nothing, standing still, staring out onto where he remembered the road was underneath the blanket of white.  

“Harley. Come on.” Harry reached out and grabbed his arm. Harley ripped himself free. 

“No.” 

Harry stared at him for a beat, before huffing. “Fine then. Freeze for all I care.” With that, Harry closed the door and Harley was left with silence. He thought it would feel better to have Harry out of his space, but the cold was starting to make his hands hurt and Happy still hadn’t come. 

After two minutes of debating whether to ring the doorbell and destroy his pride or stay put and die an icy death, his phone rang. 

“Happy where are you?” Harley rushed out. 

“Hey kid, you think you can stay there until this clears up?”

Harley's heart dropped. “What?” 

“The roads are undrivable. I can’t come get you.” 

“Happy” Harley whined, “Can’t you ask Tony to send a rescue suit? Or something?”

“To save you from a warm, cushy mansion?” Happy’s usual gruff tone had a hint of humor. Harley's desperation surged forward. 

“You don’t understand. I can’t stay here alone with him .” 

“Stay on opposite sides of the mansion, then. I’ll come get you when it clears up.” 

“I can’t survive until tomorrow!” It was one last try, an attempt at getting some empathy for his situation. All the heard in response was a huff of laughter.

“What? Happy!” Harley took the phone away from his ear and groaned at seeing that the man had hung up on him. Great. He hung his head, preparing himself to bulldoze his pride so he doesn’t freeze to death. Maybe freezing to death would be better. 

He wished he drove himself here, but his ‘driving privileges’ got taken away by Tony. All because he was going twenty over the speed limit on one of his long drives, almost ran into another car, and ended up scratching the side of his car along a wall. Everyone was fine, he avoided the situation. Except Tony freaked out and he isn’t allowed to have his license back until he has lessons with Vision. For now, Happy or his friends have had to take him where he needs to go.

After a moment he dragged himself to the door and rang the doorbell. It was only a few seconds before the door opened. Harry stood there, an eyebrow lifted. “Sorry, I didn’t order a pizza. You must have the wrong house.” 

“Haha. Funny. Let me in. They can’t come get me.”

“What’s the magic word?” Harry said, leaning against the doorframe, a smug smile on his face. 

“Harry, it’s freezing.” 

“Aww, is the country boy not used to the cold?” Harry fake pouted. 

Harley rolled his eyes. “Harry-” 

“Would’ve thought you’d be right at home, considering how you always ice me out.” 

Harley groaned. “I’m sorry. Please let me in.” He grumbled. 

“What?” Harry asked, turning his ear toward Harley. “I couldn’t hear you?” 

“I’m sorry! I’m cold, please Harry.” Harley said louder. 

“Okay, okay, get in before you get sick.” Harry ushered him in, closing the door. Harley’s felt prickly as the heat met his frozen skin.

Harry led him to the living room. “I’ll go make you some cocoa.” He then walked over to a speaker on the wall, clicking a button. “Hey Bernard, can you please come turn on the fireplace? Harley will be staying the night.” 

“Yes sir.” A formal voice said back. Harley walked over to the couch, sitting down and pulling a fluffy white blanket over himself. 

Within a few minutes Bernard showed up, getting the fireplace ready. “Hello again Mr. Harley.” 

“Hey Bernard. Thank you.”

“Of course. I’ll also set up the guest bedroom for you. The storm will probably last a few days, from what I’ve seen on the news.” 

“A few days!?” 

“Yes sir. It’s a heavy one. It’ll probably be safe to drive after the weekend, but I wouldn’t suggest it before then.” 

Harley sighed. “Alright. Thank you Bernard, I appreciate it.”

“Anytime Mr. Harley. If you need me just click the second button on one of the speakers.” 

Harley nodded, and Bernard walked out.

In truth, Harley didn’t mind Harry’s house so much, he just thought it could use a bit of color. It was so formal, just as cold as the blizzard outside. It felt like a museum, perfection incarnate, as if anything imperfect did not belong. Home shouldn’t be like that. Home should be messy and imperfect. It should be the parts of people that only those close get to see, not an extension of what the world sees you as. It made Harley sad that Harry didn’t get to have a place he could just…be. Unless this was all he was, but Harley doubted it. For as much as he hated the other boy, he was way more warm than this place led him to believe. 

“I’ve got our cocoa.” Harry announced as he walked briskly back into the room. “Be careful. They’re hot.” 

Harley took a mug from him, a white one with little snowmen decorating it. Harley stared at them. Cute . It was always the little things that slipped through the surface of what Harry was hiding. 

Harry sat on the other side of the couch. They sipped on their drinks for a minute, awkward silence hanging in the air. Silence made Harley’s skin crawl, the faint ringing in his ear would always drive him insane. He usually had music playing, or something on the tv in the background, filling the space with noise that fought away that god-awful ringing. He tried to focus in on the quiet crackling of the fireplace but it wasn’t cutting it. The stark white of the walls and the blanket and the floor was sending him into a tailspin already. Maybe this is why Harry was a jerk- he just went insane living here. 

He needed to talk or he was going to explode. Which meant talking to the one person he did not want anything to do with. Great. 

“Do y’all decorate for Christmas?” 

Harry seemed startled out of a thought, looking at the blonde boy a second before responding. “Uhh, usually not. Dad’s never here enough and-” Harry trailed off, looking at the fireplace. His lips were slightly downturned and there was something far away in his stare. 

“And?”

“And Dad doesn’t like it anyway. Not after mom died. I’m used to it.” 

Harley huffed. “That sucks. Christmas would look really pretty here.” 

Harry cocked his head. “Thanks.” He stared at Harley a bit. 

“What?” He looked at Harry, confused, shifting in his seat. “I got something on my face?”

“Can I ask you something? And for you to answer honestly?” 

Harley hesitated. What could Harry possibly want to know? “...okay?” 

“Why do you hate me?” 

Harley’s brain stopped before it rebooted, thinking through every possible reason for this question. What corner was Harry trying to back him into? He looked at the other boy, who was staring at him, waiting anxiously for a response. 

“Why are you asking this?”

“I want to know what I did, Harley. I want to be your friend.” 

Harley huffed a laugh. The audacity of the other boy shouldn’t surprise him, but it did. Harry’s knotted eyebrows and hurt stare only served to make Harley’s annoyance spike again. “My friend? Stop playing some victim, Harry. You know what happened.” 

“I don’t. Please tell me.” Harry’s voice was short. Harley just stared at him as a new revelation came upon him. His emotions died down. 

“You don’t remember?” Harry shook his head. “Of course you don’t” Harley breathed out. Emotions stirred; and somehow this new fact made him feel worse and better at the same time. Harry wasn’t purposefully ignoring what he did, but how could he forget what Harley couldn’t? It took an entire year for Harley to fix what he had done while the other boy apparently took the year fixing himself. Without fixing anything at all.

“I’m sorry. If you just tell-”

“It’s late.” Harley cut him off, his head too overwhelmed for this conversation. He couldn’t do this now, he was still unprepared, still lost in his feelings. Once he figured out how he felt about this new information, then they could talk. Then he’d hear the other boy out. 

“Oh- okay” Harry responded. “I’ll show you to your room. You’ll have to get some clothes from me first…if that’s okay?”

Harley nodded, and soon they were putting their dishes in the sink and walking upstairs. His guest room was right next to Harry’s, and specifically only for Harry’s guests. Harley laughed a little at the idea. At his house back in Tennessee, the guests would be on the bed with him or a blow up mattress on the floor. A whole room specifically for one person’s guests was… baffling. 

To say Harley was shocked when he walked into Harry’s room was an understatement. He paused at the doorway, taking it in. Color! There was color! It was like an oasis- fresh refreshment after trudging through the desert. The room had one black wall against the back, and the other white walls were covered with pictures and paintings, posters and decoration. It was organized and practical, but there was so much color. His bed was navy blue, and he had one bright yellow sun plushy with a smiley face and a tattered dog stuffed animal resting beside it. He also had a table with a record player and a shelf of vinyls. 

“You like my room?” The words broke him out of his stupor. 

“I like color.” Harley responded.

“It’s the only place I can choose how to decorate.” He shrugged. “If I had more time I would have put some more stuff in your room that I think you would like. Right now it’s set up for Eugene.”

Eugene, or Flash, was Harry’s only friend- until a year and a half ago when he turned himself around, with the help of Eugene, and made friends with all of Harley’s friends. Well, he had been childhood friends with Gwen, Peter, and Ned. Mj was on Harley’s side until he won her over with some ‘talk’ that they had and a promise to donate to a charity of her choosing. She liked Harry after that, always talking him up to Harley. The traitor.

  “What vinyls do you have?” He asked, not stepping in, like a vampire that needed to be invited. 

“You can look at them. I have the greats, like Elvis, Billy Joel, Bowie, Queen, Fleetwood Mac, etcetera.” 

Harley hesitated, but then walked in, the desire to look through his collection stronger than the tension that floated in the air. He glanced through them. “I play guitar a little.” 

Harry smiled. “I know. I’ve heard you play.”

Harley blushed, a feeling of embarrassment creeping in. He has never been embarrassed about his playing before…why was this different? Was it because he hated Harry? That had to be it. It was another thing for Harry to judge about him. “How did you hear me?” 

“On Instagram. You were playing… live like you were dying? I didn’t know you played until I saw that.” 

“Tim Mcgraw. Yeah, he’s uh- I grew up on him.” 

Harry smiled. “That’s nice. Did you just grow up on country? I imagine Tony probably had some influence on you?” 

Harley huffed a laugh, fond only when Tony wasn’t in the room. “Yeah, he really got me into 80s rock. My mom liked it too, so she helped show me some stuff. My sister also had a musical phase, so don’t go up against me for Wicked or Phantom of the Opera, I can still hear the music in my head.”

Harry laughed. “I saw the 25th anniversary in London. My father took me. It was a great performance, your sister has taste.” 

“Oh god, don’t tell ‘Bee that. She’ll get a bigger head, and nobody wants to deal with that.” 

“What’s her name?” 

“Huh? Oh-Abbie. I call her ‘bee for short. And ‘cause she’s always buzzin’ in my ear. She’s real talkative. Can’t hardly get her to shut up.” Despite the onslaught of complaints, Harley said everything with a fondness in the undercurrent of his voice. That’s how it always was. Abbie was Harley’s favorite person in the universe, and he would do anything for his little sister. They were built-in friends for life, and Harley trusted her more than himself sometimes. 

“I always wished I had siblings. It’s just been me here.” 

Harley felt his heart soften at that. He didn’t know what he would do without his sister. “I couldn’t imagine being an only child.” 

“Yeah, it sucks.” Harry laughed. “It’s okay, though. I have friends, now at least. I’ve gotten-I’ve tried to…be better.” 

Harley’s heart was beating fast in his chest, the emotions that rose in the room overwhelming him. He could read Harry’s sincerity- it was practically pouring out of the other boy. But he still struggled on tearing down the wall he built, the one he stacked up to carefully protect his heart from the other. His brain screamed that he still didn’t know if he could trust the other, while his heart soaked in all the sympathy it found in the way the other boy expressed apology. The way he didn’t even remember. The way that trying to destroy his entire life before they met wasn’t a memory important enough to stick around. 

Anger rose in Harley’s chest, and the walls stacked back up. “Can I have the clothes, please? I’m tired.” 

Harry’s face fell. “Oh, yeah, hold on.” He seemed dejected, and Harley would’ve felt sorry if he was just a little less uncomfortable. Harry dug through his dresser and pulled out sweatpants and a plain blue tee. “Hope this is okay?” 

“Thanks.” Harley said, grabbing the items and turning to go. Despite his best judgment, he turned around at the doorway. “For the record, I know you’re trying.” With that, he left to go to his room for the night. 

*************

Harley woke up, sunlight streaming in from the window and the smell of bacon wafting into the room. Against his better judgment, his grumbling stomach followed the smell. 

When he made his way down to the kitchen, he saw Harry in a white apron, mixing pancake mix. He doesn’t know why this exact scene filled him with comfort, but he writes it off that cooking has always been a place of comfort for him. His mom worked at a diner, he cooked a lot of meals for Abbie. It was familiar. Calming.

After a second more of taking in the scene he steps in the room. Harry looks up at him, and his eyes dart down and up. Harley’s cheeks flush. He completely forgot to change out of the pajamas. Harry must not be used to something so unrefined. Harley scoffed in his head. Of course. And he was already in a red turtleneck, fully dressed for the day, looking as handsome and perfect as ever. Annoying. Harry stared at him for a beat too long. 

“Do I need to change?” Harley asked, annoyance laced in every word. 

“Oh, uh, no sorry. You’re totally fine. I’m making-uh-I’m making bacon and pancakes. If you want some. Of course.” 

“Yeah, sure. I’m starving.” His hunger won over his annoyance, and Harley sat at the island. “Anything I can help with?” 

“No, that’s okay. Want anything to drink? We have orange juice, coffee, tea, water-” 

“Coffee would be great.”

“Awesome. Um, we have a Keurig and an espresso machine. Pick your poison. Milk is in the fridge. Sugar is in the cabinet above.” 

“Uh, sure.” Harley said, and walked over to the counter. He looked over multiple different flavors in the fancy pod-holder thing. There were brands he never even heard of. He slowly turned it around, and like a shining savior there was one Peet’s coffee pod sitting at the bottom. He put that in the Keurig, and waited for it to pour. 

Harley grew up drinking Folgers. That’s the coffee he knew how to make, in an old coffee pot that the cafe his mother worked at threw out. He fixed it up and by 14 he was drinking coffee every morning. When he came to live with Tony, he was worried he wouldn't know what he was doing. But Tony’s relentless coffee consumption led him to new heights, and the Keurig took a lot less time to work with. Tony drank Peet’s and Donut Shop, and Harley was just fine drinking whatever he could get. But not any so pretentious as what he found here.

As he’s waiting for the coffee to pour, Bernard walks in with a huge box. “I found them, Harry! Buried very deep in the attic.” He set it down on the counter, and startled slightly at Harley’s presence, only now noticing him. 

“Ah, Mr. Harley. Good morning, I trust you slept well?” 

“Just Harley, sir. And yes, I did.” 

“A sir!” A small smile graced the older man’s face and he glanced at Harry. “Finally, a respectful boy in the house.” 

Harry pancaked his hands, holding them at his chest. “How, great Bernard! I’m sorry! How could I ever live without you! How could I forsake and disrespect you so!” 

Bernard shakes his head, and looks at Harley. “ I raised the young man and he still acts like this. There’s no hope for him.” Bernard turned his attention back to Harry, a fond smile on his face. He looked over to see it mirrored on Harry’s face. Harley had the feeling this was a common exchange between them. 

“Thanks for the boxes, sir .” 

“I will go get the rest down from the attic.” 

“Do you want three or four pancakes?” 

Bernard paused in thought for a moment. “Just three this morning.” With that he left. 

“What’s he getting?” Harley asked.

Harry grinned, looking at Harley. “Christmas decorations! I thought we might have some from…years ago. Before my mom- Anyway, they are old, but I thought they would work.”

“I thought your dad didn’t like Christmas decorations?” 

Harry carefully didn’t look at the blonde, starting to pour the pancake mix into the pan. “He’s not getting home for a while. It’ll be okay.” 

Harley felt concern rise in his chest, but he let it go. Harry could take care of himself. Besides, some colors in this place would be beautiful…and relieving. He took his coffee and walked over, pulling things out. Inside was a tangled mess of greenery and lights. Harley wondered if they had a tree.  

“The lights might not work, it’s been like, seven years” 

“I can probably fix them up if they don’t.” Harley walked over to a plug, and plugged them in, watching as they flashed once, and then went dark. Harley then walked back over to the counter and immediately started working on them. 

He managed to get halfway through checking when it was pulled away from him. He looked up in shock as a plate of pancakes and bacon replaced the lights. 

“Eat. Then we can decorate.” 

Harley was about to argue, but the hunger in his stomach sided with the other boy. “Thanks.” He replied instead, digging in. The food was good. Not as good as his mom’s, but second place, for sure. He never knew Harry was a good chef. 

“I hope it’s okay.” He hears Harry say, delicately cutting into his pancake with a fork while Harley stuffs his face. The red of his cheeks is only matched by the surge of annoyance that boils in his chest. Harry didn’t seem to notice Harley’s reaction, a warm small smile almost undetectable on his face. Was he making fun of him?

“Yeah, it’s good.” He said, slowing down, trying to match the other’s poise. He’s never been so refined before in the comfort of a private space. It made him even more aware of the pajamas still on his body, the way his hair fell unruly and unbrushed. He was too conscious of every inch of his body, and his mind flooded with thoughts of what Harry was thinking, how he was probably judging.

When Harley was finished he silently got up and walked to the sink. 

“Oh, I can get it, Harley.” Harry said, standing up and walking over.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” 

Harry gripped the plate gently as water cascaded down it from the faucet. Harley looked up at him. “You’re a guest, let me.” 

“I said it’s fine.” Harley tried to yank the plate back but it flipped up splashing a pool of water onto Harley. Both boys stood still, and the plate was dropped into the sink. 

“Harley I-”

“It’s fine. Do the dishes, then. I’m going to change.” With that he walked out of the room, leaving the other boy as quickly as possible.

After he had peeled off his shirt and left it over a desk chair to dry, he quickly changed into his old clothes and walked back downstairs. He was greeted with many extra boxes, all stuffed with various Christmas decorations. He noticed the lights sitting on the table, centered just where he left off before breakfast. He, instead, turned to the box beside him, pulling out a classic red stocking. Embroidered in cursive on the front was an H. He trailed his finger along the curves, thinking about Harry’s childhood. His mom died when he was 10, Harley remembered from Peter briefly mentioning it once. He wondered if things were happier then. He reached back into the box and pulled out two more, one with an E and the other with an N. Emily and Norman Osborn. He placed them on the counter, staring at the three of them. Harley didn’t know everything about Harry’s past, but something in his chest ached at the sight. It whispered to Harley a memory that has long since passed for the other boy. 

Harry walked in the room, and the air around him was filled with hesitation. Harley smiled at him and he seemed to relax, until he saw what Harley had pulled out. His muscles went tense and he stared at the stockings laid out on the counter. 

“Harry?” Harley broke the silence, ready to shove them back into the box if he needed. 

Harry startled, looking up. “Uh, the tree is up. We have stocking hangers somewhere. We also should have one for Bernard. Did you fix the lights?” 

Harley blinked. “I will.” He debated whether telling Harry he didn’t have to put anything up if he didn’t want to, but he ended up not doing so. There was no point, and it wasn’t his business. He didn’t care what Harry did. They were barely even friends. 

He dragged himself to the lights and focused all his energy on that as Harry walked off to help Bernard with the rest of the boxes. 

*************

It was only half an hour later when the lights were fixed and Harry had Harley in the living room, decorating the tree. Christmas music played pleasantly from overhead speakers. Harley pulled open a box of ornaments. He immediately picked up a picture of Harry. He looked about five, smiling big for the camera in a red sweater. Bernard came to stand beside him, gently taking the ornament from Harley’s hand. 

“I remember when he was this young. Harry has grown so much.” 

Harley smiled. “And he was actually cute back then.”  

“But I dare say he has grown rather handsome, don’t you agree, Harley?” 

Harley flushed. “I’ll admit the Osborns do have good genes.”

“He does look like his father.” Bernard started, then paused as he picked up another ornament of a woman with blonde hair smiling down at a baby in her arms. “But that is all he got from Norman. Everything else he got from mother. He is just like Emily.” 

Harley stared at the picture of Emily, which was handed to him.  

“What are we talking about?” Harry asked as he came to stand by the boxes, finished with fluffing the tree. 

“Just your baby pictures.” Harley grinned, taking the one of him in the red sweater and holding it out for him to see. Harry’s face cringed and he moved to grab it, but Harley moved it out of reach. “Oh no, this is going front and center.”

“No, Harley, come on.”

“What? Little Harry is so cute.” Harley teased, walking over and hooking it on a branch facing them. Harry didn’t try to take it down and Harley turned around to see Harry holding the one of his mom, Norman standing beside him with a hand on his back. Harry looked wistful, sad in a way he’d never seen the other boy. Harry was always so composed, carefully neutral or lightly judgmental in the way he carried himself. He screamed status and wealth. It was weird seeing him so… unfiltered. 

Harry walked up and placed the ornament right beside the other one. 

“If it’s…If you don’t feel comfortable doing this or it’s too much we don’t have to decorate. I appreciate the gesture.” 

Harry shrugged, and a warm smile covered his face. “Nah, I’m glad we are decorating. It’s nice.” 

Harley didn’t know what to say, so he stayed silent, and they all continued to decorate the house; hanging lights, ornaments and turning on the fake candles. 

“Do you wanna hang these?” He heard Bernard say quietly from the other room, and immediately knew they were talking about the stockings. He walked a little closer, pretending to mess with some lights so he didn’t look like he was eavesdropping. 

“It’s okay if you don’t, son. We can also do just yours and mine. Whatever you wish.” 

“No, Let’s do all of them. Mom’s still with us in spirit and dad is dad.” 

“You are a good boy, Harry. He’ll come around.”

Harley felt bad for Harry. He never had his dad around but he remembered how sad he was when Tony left him when he was ten to go back to his life in New York. Having a dad coming and going, never really here but never really gone, sounded awful. There was no way for Harry to grow past it. 

“Maybe. We have these moments where I think he’s coming around…then the next moment we are back to square one. I don’t…I don’t know how to fix things if he won’t tell me what happened. It’s frustrating.” 

A pit of dread spread in Harley’s stomach as he realized they weren’t talking about Harry’s dad. His anxiety rose, battling with his anger; but he fought his temper down. This wasn’t the same thing that happened three years ago. This wasn’t malicious, meant to ridicule and cut Harley down. He took a breath, and all that was left to settle in his gut was a deep feeling of guilt. 

Harley found his way back to his room, pacing the floor. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t just forgive the other boy. Not so easily. He sighed, sitting down on his bed. After a minute of deliberation, he decided to call Peter. Peter was a good listener and if he could just talk this out, then he would be able to figure out what to do. 

The phone rang twice before Peter picked up. “Hey Harls, not the best time. I’m on patrol.”

“Who would be doing crime right now? That’s stupid.”

Peter huffed. “You’d be surprised. Can you call me later?”

“Tell me who you’ve seen out and about in this weather.”

“I mean, I saw a man-”

“Was he doing a crime?” Harley cut the other off. 

“ No , but-”

“Then you have time to listen to me.” 

“You know Spider-Man also saves people, right? Not just defeat bad guys.” Peter retorted. The gentle sounds of rushing wind and the thwips of his webs stopped, so Harley knew he was already on a roof, ready to hear Harley out. 

“Exactly. And I need saving right now.” 

“I am not coming to get you from Harry’s.” Peter cut in, fond annoyance in his voice. “You need to learn how to get along with him. He’s not so bad once you get to know him.” 

Harley groaned. “Look, I actually wanted to talk about that. He’s- I still don’t forgive him for what he did. But-” Harley sighed, looking for a way to approach this. Peter waited quietly for him to find the words. “He’s being really nice. And it’s confusing.” 

Peter waited a beat, seeing if Harley had anything else to say. “Have you considered that he's changed? It’s been two years since that happened. If it bothers you, talk to him about it. Give him a chance to explain.”

“That’s the thing , Peter. He asked me and- he doesn’t remember. That’s- That’s rude, actually.” Harley furrowed his brow, immediately getting up and pacing. He wished he was in his lab with something to build or fix. He didn’t know what to do with his hand that wasn’t holding his phone. He flexed it as emotions surged through his body, trying to find somewhere to channel to. “It was one of the worst times of my life. It was awful and he just doesn’t remember? How can you try and ruin someone’s career before it even starts and- and don’t even have the decency to remember it?”

“I don’t know, Harley. That does sound-” Peter sighed. “Talk to him. I mean, either his explanation sucks and you can continue to be mad at him or his explanation makes sense and you both can move on and be friends, you know? Either way there’s, uh, closure.” 

Harley groaned, sitting back on the bed. His hand started fiddling with the sheets. “ Maybe. It’s just-” Harley still wasn’t sure. I mean, how was he supposed to look into his stupid, perfect face and tell him he’s upset about something so insignificant to the other boy that he doesn’t even remember it? What if Harry laughs in his face? What if Harry decides that Harley is just as pathetic as he saw him back then? What then? “I don’t know.” 

“Talk to him, Harley. If it goes bad then at least you know, right?” 

“Yeah. Okay. Cool.” 

“Cool. I gotta go. Good luck! And remember, ‘forgiveness does not change the past, but it does enlarge the future.” 

“Not one of your motivational quotes, Peter, you sound like Steve.” Harley groaned. 

“It’s helpful! It was in a book of quotes May gave me. I gotta have some handy for the people who start trauma-dumping on me, like you!” 

“I hope someone catches you slipping on ice and puts it on Twitter.” 

“Hey that’s mean! I helped you!” 

“Thanks, Spider-boy.” With that, he ended the call. 

Harley fell back on the bed with a huff, trying to prepare himself to talk to Harry. 

*************

After a minute of deliberation, a minute of dread, and a few more minutes of deliberation, Harley dragged himself off the bed, and headed downstairs. All of the decorations were up, and the overwhelming white of the house was adorned with green, red, and gold. It was beautiful. He headed toward the living room, where he found Harry and Bernard sitting on the couch, looking at the stocking, talking softly. They looked up when he walked farther in, and Bernard stood up. 

“I have some housework to attend to, see you two later.” He mentioned briefly, before passing Harley and walking out. Harley watched him go, then hesitantly turned back to Harry. 

“Hey.” He said, choosing not to move. He was like an ice sculpture, as much a decoration as the ones they just put up. 

“Hey.” Harry responded. There was an awkward beat. “I, uh, thought it might be fun to make cookies later. That’s another Christmas tradition we used to do-” 

“Same” Harley cut off. The room fell into an awkward silence again, and Harley’s skin itched to fill it. He guessed it was now or never. “Can we talk?” 

“Of course.” Harry looked down as he said it, and there was something sad, something reserved, in his voice. 

Harley nodded, walking closer until he was sitting on the opposite side of the couch. He thought about yesterday night. They were in the same positions, only Harley had a cup of hot chocolate in his hands. Giving them purpose. Now he just fiddled with his jeans. 

“Um, yesterday you asked why I hate you.” Harry stayed quiet, so Harley pressed on. “I don’t hate you.” He looked up at Harry, who was staring at him. Harry blinked, his mouth forming a bitter smile as he huffed a laugh. 

“You don’t? Then why-”

“No I-” Harley cut Harry off, correcting himself. “I did hate you. I don’t anymore.” 

“Oh.” Harry said. His never breaking stare made Harley’s heart beat harder in his chest. 

“Two years ago, there was this charity event. Tony had only adopted me and Abbie half a year prior after Ma died and I was already the heir to Stark Industries. He told me that connections were a huge part of the business, and that freaked me out. I can do the engineering, the finance, the planning, all of that. But talking to other business executives, and CEOs, and making them like me? That’s what I wasn’t so sure of. I had no idea what I was doing. At the event, I was so nervous, and then I saw you and a few other kids our age. Y’all were all talking and laughing in a circle, and I thought that if I could talk to y’all it would make the whole night easier. And Tony would see that I was capable of being part of the company.” Harley took a deep breath, glancing over at the other boy. He was still staring, but Harley could see a little part of recognition in his face. “So I walked over, and your back was to me, so I don’t think you noticed that I walked up. And I realized that what y'all were laughing at, was me. You were talking about me, saying that I was incompetent, and stupid-looking, and ‘just a dumb hick playing pretend.’ You said I would run Stark Industries into the ground. You made me feel more like an imposter than I already did.” Harley didn’t mean for the bitterness to creep back into his voice, but it did. By the end he was spitting the words out, unable to restrain his anger. 

“Harley-”

“It took forever to fix things with the others. I had to work extra hard to prove myself to them. I was doing that while you were taking your year away, fixing yourself or whatever. You almost ruined my entire career, and after you came back? You didn’t apologize to me. You didn’t fix anything. You didn’t even remember.” 

Harley looked at the other boy again, everything he wanted to say out into the air. Harry was still, with his eyes closed and his face scrunched up like he was in pain. It was completely silent, but Harley’s heart was thundering too fast for it to bother him. 

Eventually Harry opened his eyes, their cool brown meeting Harley’s. He sucked in steady breaths. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I made you feel that way. You have every right to be pissed at me for that.” 

Harley waited for him to continue, but he just looked down. He searched the brunette’s face as he stared at the fireplace; it lit up orange in the firelight’s glow. 

“That’s it? Just ‘I’m sorry’? No explanation?” 

Harry sighed lightly, and looked back up. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. It’s just hard to talk about.” Harry shifted, turning more to the other boy. The wistfulness in his eyes was back, and Harley could feel the sadness that radiated off of him. He thought for a brief second of how this Harry seemed so…raw. It was him without the protection of suave untouchability Harley always knew him as. He was unendingly happy, and treacherously sad, and real the entire time. Harley liked this Harry a lot more. 

“When I was younger, up until a year ago, I wanted nothing more than for my dad to be proud of me. Ever since my mom died, he just became cold to me. And I’m expected to carry on his legacy, to carry on Oscorp despite him barely talking to me, ever. I-I thought something was wrong with me. If I could be perfect enough, then he would love me and we could be happy. Like it was before mom died. And that made me sad, and that sadness turned to depression, and that depression made me mean. And because of who I was, people would throw themselves at trying to be my friend. And being friends with the kids of the people my dad wanted to work with helped him. Therefore, I thought I was gaining his approval by doing whatever I could do to keep them my friends.” Harry breathed. “The truth is, I do remember that night. I didn’t until just now, but- I saw you as a threat. Here was this outsider, who is now the heir to the one business more elusive and desirable than Oscorp. And you were cool .” Harry laughed a bit, glancing at him. 

“ Cool? I was terrified.” Harley added, shock coursing through him. “I felt so awkward.” 

Harry shook his head. “You hid it well. I could tell you were new but you were a mystery. We all knew each other since we were little, more or less. No one knew who this hot, country kid was who caught the attention of Tony Stark. So much so that he adopted him. You were an enigma, we thought you had to be his illegitimate child or something-” 

Harley groaned. “I remember that when I first moved in. It was everywhere .” 

Harry laughed. “It made the most sense.” 

Harley chuckled. “God forbid I have any of Tony’s genes.” 

Harry smiled but his mood dropped as he prepared to finish his story. “Oscorp and Stark Industries are rivals, for the most part. My dad- he hates Stark. He hates that y’all do better then we do. I thought that we couldn’t be friends because of that. I thought that if you became friends with them, you would steal them from me, and that my dad would see that as a failure. So I talked shit about you, hoping to stop that from happening. I’m really, really, sorry Harley. What I did was terrible and if there is any way that I can fix it, I will.” 

“What made you leave last year?” Harley asked, leaning back. 

“Eugene. He, uh, has been my friend for a long time. He had some talk with Peter or something because he changed. He realized some things about himself and his life and he talked to me. Persuaded me to do the same.”

Harley remembered that day. A year ago Eugene started living with his aunt when his parents lost custody of him. Eugene’s dad was physically abusive and his mom was neglectful, and one day his dad went too far and the police got involved. Harley didn’t know the specifics, but apparently it was bad enough that his dad couldn’t pay the police off again. They bonded over their shared trauma and Harley was quick to forgive him for everything Peter told him and everything he saw. He regretted what he had done and he made peace with Peter, and that was good in Harley’s book. Eugene also urged Harley to talk to Harry, but he refused. Harry made no effort to apologize, so Harley decided he wouldn’t either. He was starting to think he had been a little hard on the other boy. 

“And to do that I needed to get away. I flew to a boarding school for a year. I self reflected. I got a therapist. I stopped trying to live for my dad, and started living for me. I learned a lot about myself.” 

 “Oh.” Harley responded. Harry’s response made sense. Peter was right. Everyone was right. Harry’s explanation was understandable, and even though it didn’t make what happened right, he wanted to fix it. Harley felt embarrassment surge up inside him for holding this grudge for so long. 

“Oh?” 

Harley took a few more moments to come to terms with the situation. “I guess- I’m sorry I didn't just talk to you about this. It would’ve cleared things up a lot sooner.” 

Harry nodded. “I understand why you didn’t though. I was an asshole.” 

“You were.” Harley chuckled. “But I haven’t been the most gracious to you either.” 

“It was warranted-”

“It was rude. You are literally hosting me through a storm right now. You decorated your house ‘cause I mentioned it. If my ma could see me now she’d be so disappointed.” Harley shook his head. “What I’m trying to get to is- Can we start over? I want to be friends.” 

“God, of course. You don’t know how much I’ve wanted you to say that.” Harry breathed out, his shining smile peaking out. Harley matched him with his own, although he thought that no smile could be brighter than the other boy’s. It just radiated light. 

*************

Harley felt the heat on his face as he opened the stove, taking out the pan of cookies carefully. He set them on the cooling rack, Harry watching over his shoulder.

“So” Harley turned around, leaning back on the closed stove. “We are good to make the icing.” 

Harry nodded, moving aside to start getting out the ingredients. Harley watched him as he worked, enjoying this new friendship they had. If he was being honest with himself, he felt lighter and more relaxed now than he had felt for the past year. All it took was one conversation, and now they are baking cookies together. And Harley doesn’t want to knock his light out. Crazy. 

“What colors do we want?” Harley asked, pushing his sleeves up, meeting him at the table. 

“Holiday colors. Red, Green, White. It’ll match the Christmas aesthetic.” 

“I’ll stir while you put the ingredients in, okay?” Harley grabbed a bowl and a spoon, looking at Harry expectantly. 

“Yes sir” Harry joked, a small smile gracing his lips. 

Harley started stirring, Harry slowly adding in ingredients. When they got to adding the powdered sugar, Harley was halfway through a story about Christmas back in Tennessee. Suddenly, almost half the bag was dumped at once into the bowl. 

“Shit” Harry quickly got a hold back on the bag while Harley worked to incorporate the sugar. “Sorry.”

“What happened?” Harley asked, getting the icing under control. 

“Got distracted.” He responded, and Harley glanced up to see a light pink on his cheeks. Hah. Harley didn’t think he'd ever seen Harry mess up anything. And now he’s embarrassed over it- it was cute. 

“It’s okay. I’ve got it under control.” 

“I never doubted it.” 

After the icing was done and in piping bags, they started decorating the cookies. It was a mess of color, and they laughed over their designs, or just Harley’s. Harley put the colors on messily, experimenting with new designs without much thought into it. Harry, in contrast, spent time with each of his, all of his designs thought out. They looked like they could be on the cover of a holiday magazine. 

“Do you bake a lot?” Harley asked, picking up a new cookie to decorate. 

“Yeah. I picked it up a few years ago actually. I was always a little embarrassed by it until a year ago.” 

“Embarrassed by it?” Harley asked, pouting. He cooked for his family a lot. What’s embarrassing about knowing how to make things?
Harry chuckled. “Yeah, I don’t know. It just was so different from the role I had been made to play growing up. Baking is messy and temperamental. I think that’s my favorite part about it.” 

Harley smiled at the other’s answer. “We should give everyone one each and make them guess who made what.” He responded as he took a toothpick to swirl his colors together until he was pleased with it. 

“That would be fun.” Harry commented. 

“I’ll try to make one like yours to trip ‘em up.” He reached over and grabbed one of Harry’s, placing it beside his to copy it. 

“And who are we tripping up?” 

“Peter.” Harley responded, biting his lip and leaning down, trying to make it as close to Harry’s as possible. 

“Ah.” After a beat, Harry continued. “It’s cute when you bite your lip like that.” 

Harley startled, looking up at him. “Oh.” It’s all he could get out, his cheeks heating up. 

Harry smiled and went back to work, and Harley quietly went back to his, his mind far away from the task at hand. 

When they finished and boxed up all the cookies, they took seats at the counter. Harley took a cookie from the pile and held it up to Harry. “I guess we should have one ourselves.” 

“Of course.” He gingerly took the cookie and Harley picked up his own. “Toast?” 

“Toast.” Harley nodded his head, and they clinked their cookies together before taking a bite. 

They both looked up at each other after the bite, and broke out into laughter.  

“Good?” Harley asked. 

“Good.” Harry responded. 

*************

The next morning Harley was dressed in multiple layers of clothes he borrowed from Harry, staring out the door at the piles of snow. The snow was piled so high some areas reached his knees. 

“We’re going out in that? It’s like… tall. And a lot.” 

“‘It’s like tall and a lot.’ What an eloquent way of speaking you have, Harley.”  

“Oh my apologies that I didn’t acquire myself a private tutor in my youth, your majesty.” 

“It’s ‘your grace’, actually.” Harry grinned, looking at him. 

Harley’s heart sped up. He didn’t know why he liked it so much when he had the other boy’s attention, but he did. He wanted to keep those brown eyes on him. “You think your grace wants to lose against me in a snowball fight?” Harley walked out the door into the snow.

Harry sucked in a breath. “So close! You meant ‘win’.” 

“Nah, I know what I meant.” He bent down and formed a snowball out of the snow around him, keeping a close tab on Harry doing the same. He had done this a few times with Abbie when they were younger, whenever Tennessee got enough snow. He has always won, being the older brother and everything. He hadn’t played in snow since he was adopted, despite there being snow every year this far north. It never made much sense due to being in the middle of the city, and everyone he knew being busy or uninterested. But Harry lived just outside of the city with a huge yard that gave Harley even more space to dodge snowballs then his little yard back in Rose Hill. 

Harry was the first to throw, hitting him on the shoulder. Harley threw one in response, directly in the chest. Harley laughed. “Five points right there, your grace!”

“Lucky throw!” Harry shouted back, getting another snow ball ready. 

The battle had lasted for a few minutes, dodging, throwing, and laughing, when suddenly a snowball hit Harley square in the cheek. He slowed, turning toward the other boy, his mouth agape. “No face shots! We’re not playing dirty!” He said, trying his best to keep a smile from his face as Harry grimaced. 

“Sorry that was not meant to hit your face.” He apologized through a growing grin.

Harley squinted his eyes. “Oh really? ‘Cause I’m having a hard time believing that.” He walked closer, carefully keeping the snowball in his hands out of sight. 

“Are you calling me a liar?” Harry asked, watching him step right up in his face. Harry’s breath seemed to shorten and Harley wondered if Harry had caught on to his plan. 

“Well I ain’t calling you a truther.” He shot back. Harry chuckled, rolling his eyes. 

“And what’s a pretty face like yours gonna do about it?” 

With such a perfect invitation, Harley swung his hand forward, and smashed his snowball right on Harry cheek. Harry’s face morphed with shock before he curled his lips in acceptance. Harley patted his cheek a few times, before backing up. “That.” 

Harry put his hands up to his chest, palms facing out. “Okay, okay. GG. You win.” 

Harley grinned. “I warned you.” 

“I’ll win next time, Keener.” 

“Sure you will, Osborn.”

After a half hour and a pair of snowmen now standing dutifully in the yard, Harley decided he was too cold and it was time to go inside. They both shedded their outer layers and retired to the living room with two cups of hot chocolate and a roaring fire that Bernard made for them. Harley had asked if Bernard wanted to join them for games, but he declined with a small smile. Harley didn’t want to disinclude the older man from the company, but he was also a little relieved he said no. Harley was enjoying his time with Harry, and Harley couldn’t escape the feeling of wanting Harry’s undivided attention. 

“What should we play first?” Harry asked, waving toward the tower of board games. 

Harley raked his eyes over the tower; Jenga, Sorry, Yatzee, Clue, Monopoly, Battleship, Trivial Pursuit, Uno, Chess, Checkers. He considered which one he would possibly have an advantage on. Trivial Pursuit is a no-go. Harley knew things here-and-there but he was more oblivious to pop-culture than a regular person. Harry seemed like the guy who made it his business to know everything. Monopoly would take way too long and he’s too fresh on the capitalism scene to go against a veteran. Any of the others he had a decent shot at. 

“Sorry.” He responded after a minute. 

“Took a minute there. Scared you are gonna lose?” 

“Big talk for the guy who lost snowball fighting.” Harley shot back as Harry set it up. Harry smiled up at him and he almost lost his breath. 

“Guest’s Luck.” 

“Isn’t it ‘Beginner’s Luck?’” 

“It’s different here.” Harry shrugged, leaning back.

Harley huffed a laugh. “Sure it is.” He drawled out; a lazy smile on his face now. 

Harry stared at him for a beat before they got to playing. 

The problem was that Harley began losing really quickly. Harry was reveling in it all the could, teasing Harley. It soon became half way through the game and one of Harry’s pieces was in Home and three of Harley’s were still in Start. He was begging to pull a one or a two, but his luck had apparently dwindled. Harley moved his piece along the board. Harry made a show of grabbing a card, looking at it secretly like they were playing Clue. 

“I swear to god, Harry, if that’s a Sorry card.” Harley groaned. Harry’s face had a smug smile. 

“Sorry-” 

“No way! Let me see it!” 

Harley made a move to grab the card, but Harry held it away. 

“It’s a sorry card, trust me.” 

Harley squinted his eyes at Harry. “It’s totally not! You’re cheating!” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Let me see that card!” Harley laughed and he leaned across the board to grab in from Harry’s raised hand. Harry paused, and it allowed Harley to grab the card. 

“Hah!” He exclaimed looking down so he could see the defeated look on Harry’s face. When he looked down, he was greeted with Harry’s face only inches away from his own. The air suddenly changed, and tension palpated between them. Harley’s breath slowed, and for some reason he couldn’t seem to pull himself away. He didn’t want to. Harry looked into his eyes. Harley glanced down to his lips. He could swear that this moment was shared when he looked at the other boy. That Harry might be feeling the same tug in his heart that the blonde had started feeling last night. 

“You caught me.” Harry tried at a joke, but it was almost whispered and no grin appeared. Harley felt like static, and his brain shut off. He leaned forward, capturing Harry’s lips in his own. 

Harry didn’t move away, but he didn’t move at all. He froze. As soon as Harley’s brain reared back into functioning order, he pulled away. His face felt hot and embarrassment crept up his throat. Only he could manage to make himself look like an absolute fool in front of the most collected guy in the world. He leaned back and stood up in one front motion, trying to get a hold in any scrap of dignity he had left. A Two card laid discarded on the board. 

“I’m sorry- I shouldn't have done- I’m sorry. I'll just- I’ll just go back to my room.” He stammered out as Harry was still frozen. He turned to flee the room, wanting to go and bury himself beneath the covers. 

Before he was out of the room, there was a hand on his arm. Harley didn’t turn around, his heart beating too fast, his face too red. 

 “Harley, look at me.” Harry whispered. 

Harley hesitated, but then turned around, looking the other in his eyes before looking at a random spot behind him. He didn’t seem mad, which Harley was grateful for. He didn’t think Harry was the type of person to get mad anyway. What he was really afraid of was the gentle way Harry was now going to attempt to let him down. He hated pity. Embarrassment surged up in him, the urge to flee from the situation even stronger than before. 

“I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. You don’t have to-”

“I’m glad you did.” Harry cut him off. Harley’s eyes snapped back to him. “I’m sorry I froze. I just-” Harry let out a breathless laugh. “I’ve had such a huge crush on you for so long.”

Harley’s eyebrows scrunched. “No- there’s no way. I’ve been an asshole to you. You said you saw me as a threat.” 

“That was two years ago. And I always thought you were hot. Plus the rare times you weren’t a huge asshole, I thought you were pretty cool.” Harley only noticed now that Harry had brought them so they were standing closer, Harry’s hand on the small of his back, his other on his neck. The red on the blonde’s cheeks deepened. 

“Oh.” It was all Harley could get out. He stared at the other boy, dumfounded.

“Can I kiss you?” Harry asked, thumb rubbing the nape of his neck comfortingly. 

Harley nodded and Harry leaned in, capturing his lips in his. Harley leaned into it, putting his arms over the other’s shoulders. Harry pressed them tighter together, deepening the kiss. Harley felt electric and weightless all at once. His brain was mush and quiet, a relief from its usual chaos. He didn’t know how long they stood there, until he needed to breathe and pulled away, Harry chasing his lips. He smiled dopily, staring at the other boy, who stared back. He laughed, letting his head fall onto Harry's shoulder, who tugged him closer, his hand tight around his waist. 

“What?” Harry whispered. 

“Nothing. Just that if you told me two days ago that we would be making out in your decorated living room I would not believe it for a second.” 

Harry breathed, placing his cheek on Harley’s head, rocking them slightly. “Me neither.” 

“I’m happy. About this.” Harley said. 

“ God , Me too.” Harley laughed lightly in response and Harry matched the sound. They stood like that for a while taking in each other’s company and touch, passing kisses back and forth lazily. 

Eventually they found their way to Harry’s bedroom, laying in his bed, talking about anything and everything. Harley got up from the bed to play some music, background noise for their shared stories and kisses. While he was pulling some out, a small one-song vinyl fell to the ground. Harley picked it up. Live Like You Were Dying was written across the cover. Harley looked over at Harry, who had a slight blush across his face. 

“I was worried you would see it when you were looking at it two days ago.” 

Harley smiled. “You really got this ‘cause of me?” 

Harry smiled. “Yeah? It was a good song. It reminds me of you and- I thought it might somehow let us connect.” 

Harley looked at him. “That’s really sappy.” 

Harry threw a pillow at him. “I really like you.” 

Harley laughed, putting the vinyl in the player before crawling back on the bed; back to his place in Harry arms. 

They exchanged a kiss, content in each other’s arms. 

“I don’t want this to end when I have to go back home. I want to take you on a date.” 

“I would love that.” Harley kissed Harley again, slow and sweet. 

“Maybe if you drive me home. And I will borrow your clothes tomorrow. So I can have an excuse to come back.” 

Another kiss was placed on his nose. “You never need an excuse to come over. You are always welcome.” 

“Maybe we can get snowed in together again.” Harley said, pushing a strand of hair behind the other’s ear. 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

Harley grinned, kissing Harry, getting lost in the music, the sheets, and the warmth of the boy right next to him; marveling at the fact that if he could, he would stay here, with him, forever.