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Harley Keener was one guarded mother fucker. He didn’t like to share his feelings. He didn’t see the value in gentle words. And if there was one thing he could do for the rest of his god forsaken life it was deflect deflect deflect.
But Peter was a fix-it man, who liked a good project. And Harley Keener was one hell of a cute project.
“I have a question for you…”
“I know, Pete, you’ve been staring at me for like 10 minutes straight. Spit it out, it’s really fucking creepy.”
“Why did you move away from Tennessee?”
“Because I felt like it.”
“Harley com’on I’m curious.”
“And I’m serious. Tennessee is a shit show and I couldn’t see myself livin’ there anymore, so I left.”
“But what made it a shit show?”
“Oh my god Peter, let it go. You know the questions drive me crazy.”
“Well maybe if you gave me a straight answer I wouldn’t have to go all P.I on you.”
“Peter it’s my life, I’m entitled to keep whatever the hell I want to myself. Drop it.”
“Fine, fuck Harley.” Peter slumped into the couch cushions and set his attention back on the movie infront of them.
“You don’t see me digging my grimy paws into your personal business, do you? It’s fucking rude.”
“I already said fine, Harley.”
“Whatever.”
The two go through this about once every two weeks. Peter asks Harley a question, in hopes of gaining some tidbit, of information, that would ultimately help find some common ground between the two of them. Harley gives a bullshit answer. They go back and forth for a couple of minutes until Harley inevitably loses his cool and Peter gives up. Rinse, dry, and repeat.
“Why do you do that? Why are you so fucking defencive? I’m literally just making conversation.”
“One I’m not defensive, two that's bullshit. No fucking shot you’re just making conversation. I just haven’t figured out what you’re prying for yet.”
“Not defensive my ass. I just want to get to know you. You’ve been living in my house for three months now, and the only things I know about you are what my dad has told me.”
“That’s not true. You know plenty about me.”
“Yeah? Like what? Name like five things you’ve told me about yourself that constitute as like, even remotely personal.”
“Well for one, you know I have a sister-”
“Who I don’t even know the name of by the way.”
“And I’m from Rose Hill, Tennessee.”
“Which you know means nothing to me.”
“Fuck this. Why do you care so much anyway?”
“That, I’m not willing to tell you.”
“You fucking hypocrite.”
“I’m an open book Harley. Ask me literally anything.
“Yeah but not why you care so much about my life.”
“Correct.”
“Fuck that, Peter. You’re one to call my fucking kettle black.”
“Oh my god, you baby, fine. I’ll trade you. Tell me one thing about yourself, like a true, personal, introspective fact and I’ll tell you why I won't stop pestering you.”
“So you admit it. You pester.”
“Do we have a deal or not Keener.”
“Yeah, fine. Whatever.”
“Okay go ahead.”
“What? Why do I have to go first?”
“It’s my deal. I make the rules.”
“You fucking prick.”
“Do you get along with your family?”
Harley stares at the screen hanging off the wall in front of them. Thoughts of what he could say swirling around his brain. It’s not that Harley didn’t trust Peter, it really wasn’t that at all. He’s just scared. He really does like Peter. Like really likes him.
Peter was the coolest 17 year old he had ever met. He goes to protests, is at the top of all his classes, and cares so deeply about everything he does. He’s generous, and funny, and doesn't stand for injustice. Is so fucking quick with his tongue, and can talk his way out of any situation. He’s always the most gorgeous man that walks into the room, and it never seems like he knows it. Harley might not say it yet, but god he is so damn in love with the brunette.
With all this being said, Keeners don’t do love. His parents couldn’t figure it out, and the revolving door his mother kept open was enough for the young man to understand that feelings just get hurt when you're a Keener. But he really wanted this. Wanted nothing more than to hold Peter close at night and call him ‘mine’.
But, again, Keeners don’t do love. And Harley was terrified that if he got too close, his heart wouldn’t be able to take the rejection. So he pushed away.
It’s Peter’s sigh and shift to stand up that brings Harley out of his thoughts.
“I love my family.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, of course. I mean they can be hard to be around, but they’re still family you know? Like my sister–Abbie.”
“Abbie.”
“Abbie. She is like the kindest thirteen year old to exist but god she does stupid things. Things that scare the shit out of me. “Cause, like, I love her.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. You probably wouldn’t get it.”
“Why?”
Harley shrugs, “You grew up with like the most amazing parents in the whole fucking world.”
“No I didn’t.”
“The fuck you mean you didn’t? Tony and Pep are like the coolest parents ever.”
“No, yeah they are, I just didn’t grow up with them.”
“What?”
“I was adopted when I was fifteen.”
“What?”
“Yeah. I’ve been in the foster system since I was like 3 years old. Well, up until two years ago, I guess.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“How come you’ve never told me?”
“You don’t make it very easy to talk to you, Harley. But also, like, I don’t really talk about it, with anyone. It really fucking sucked, so.”
“Right.”
“It’s whatever.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I said it’s whatever. Tell me more about your sister. What is it that I wouldn’t understand?”
“Oh…actually I feel like I’ve held up my end of the bargain pretty well. Are you going to tell me yet?”
“C’mon Harley. I literally just told you the most important thing about me. Are you really that much of a dick to not just fucking tell me something, anything, about you?”
“Well fuck you too then.”
“Oh my god fine. You want to know why I care so much? I’m in love with you okay? I don’t know why. Because you’re a fucking ass to me, like all the time. And you infuriate me till no end. But you’re blond and you’re southern, and you’re good with your hands, and my dad likes you or whatever. And, like, you’re assertive, and kind to waiters, and aren’t afraid to kick someone's ass for being an ass. And I just wanted to get to know you more, to find a common interest or some shit. Weasel my way in to see if I could get you to like me back. But clearly you fucking hate me, because I have never seen you treat anyone else the way you treat me, and frankly I’ve had enough.”
Peter shot up off the couch and took a few steps back until turning around to leave the room.
A mere second before Peter makes it through the doorway, Harley whispers out to him.
“You don’t mean that.”
“What?” Peter doesn't turn around.
“Tell me you don’t mean that. Tell me you don’t actually love me.”
“Oh my fucking god Harley.” Peter said in disbelief and took another step forward towards the exit.
“No, I mean it peter. Tell me you’re not actually in fucking love with me. Because I feel really fucking stupid right now.”
“Good night Harley.”
“Come here.”
Peter takes another step forward.
“Peter!”
Peter finally turns around, scowl on his face, tears building up behind his eyes.
“Fuck Off.”
“Fucking hell, just come here. Sit back down.”
“Why.”
“Because I love you too.”
“Not funny Harley. I’ll see you in the labs tomorrow. I’m going to bed.”
“Sit DOWN.”
Peter set his shoulders and hardened his stare, before walking back towards the couch.
“Don’t you ever talk to me like that again. You hear me? That fucking tone you’ve got. It’s fucking good as gone. Yeah?”
“I’m in love with you.”
Peter just shakes his head.
“I’m in love with you.” Harley repeats, scooching to the edge of his cushion, sandwiching Peter between his legs without touching him.
“I don’t believe you.” Peter peered down at the blond.
“I’m in love with you.”
Peter’s stature began to crack.
“I’m in love with you.”
“I’m in love with you.”
“I’m in Love with you.”
Peter rose an eye brow.
“I’m in love with you.”
“You mean that?”
Harley smiled up at the boy, nodding, reaching for the other's hips.
“I’m in love with you.”
Peter’s muscles finally loosen, just before raising his palm to strike Harley across the face. Hard.
“Then stop treating the people you love like shit, you asshole.” Peter gently rubs Harley’s cheek, before sinking down to sit on his knee and wrap his arms around his neck.
“I’m sorry.” Harley leans his forehead atop of Peters.
“Good. I forgive you.” Peter tilts his head so that their noses are touching.
“Thanks.” Harley breathes out heavily.
“Say it again. Please.”
“I’m in love with you.” Harley smiles even brighter.
“I’m in love with you too.” Peter grins and leans in for a kiss.
And it is beautiful. Warm and soft. Nothing like you would expect from a roughened up teenager and a city boy. But, it’s perfect and lovely and long overdue.