Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Harley:

Harley loved his life. It hadn’t started great in bum fuck Tennessee, but now he was living life up in the tower with the Tony Stark and the avengers in New York. The best part, though, was the cute brunette boy three doors down from him - Peter Parker. He had fluffy brown hair, wide, hazelnut doe eyes and the best abs Harley had ever had the fortune of laying his gay ass eyes on. And he was Spider-Man, just another bonus (those biceps and abs were to die for). Harley would never admit this to anyone, but a lot of his midnight fantasies were of Peter crushing him with those thighs. And, well, if he were to do that in real life, Harley would probably thank him. Not that he would ever tell anyone though.

So Harley maybe had a bit of a crush on Peter. Just maybe.

Peter:

Bi panic was activated. Harley fucking Keener was walking - no strutting - towards his locker. He hadn’t seen the southerner at the tower this morning, considering he left for an early morning patrol. But now that he was sauntering up to him, Peter had time to revel in his glory. The tanned skin from the southern sun that never went away - even in cloudy NYC, bright blue eyes contrasting Peter’s dark brown ones, the dirty blonde hair swishing as he approached the city boy. The hot, humid, summer air wasn’t on Peter’s side, as the tight tank top Harley was wearing left the younger boy’s imagination wandering to things no child should ever hear of.

Harley must’ve said something to him, but Peter was still stuck in his 18+ fantasises. Shaking his head, Peter snapped out of it and hummed questioningly. Harley repeated his question.

“Are you ok?” The older boy looked concerned.

“Why would you say that?” Peter grimaced - once at the pain, once at the irony.

“You’re leaning on your left foot, not your right,” Harley explained, inching forward and tilting his head slightly. “That means you’re in pain.”

The conclusion hit too close to home for comfort. This morning’s patrol ended badly - with a 50cm stick of rebar through his abdomen. He hadn’t pulled it out - an even worse medical disaster - but had cut it to be flush against his skin. It did mean that every time he moved, the shocks of pain shot through his body, making his breath hitch no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Obviously, all his attempts were futile if Harley had noticed. His dad would find out and he’d be fucked.

Harley:

Harley was never the most observant person in the room, except when it came to Peter. Within months of knowing him, Harley knew the majority of his quirks and what they meant. Therefore, he could often tell when Peter was hiding an injury. And right now, he was.
With the way he was standing, Harley could guess there was something still in a wound - a bullet, probably - and it was in the right side of his abdomen.

Harley grabbed Peter’s wrist and dragged him into the nearest bathroom and cubicle. Inside, the older boy lifted up the younger’s shirt.

“Woah babe, at school?” Peter quipped in the face of panic again.

Harley ignored him, staring at the tangle of webs covering part of the former’s stomach. Leaning over, the southern boy grabbed his backpack off the floor, rooting around in it to find his spare canister of web dissolver. Finally finding it, he opened the cap and poured it over the makeshift bandage. Peter’s diluted hiss of pain didn’t go unnoticed, Harley quickly glancing up to check if he was ok. To be fair, he did just drag him into the toilets and rip his shirt up.

Peter’s face was contorted into one of pain and discomfort he tried his hardest to hide. Harley whispered soothing words of comfort to try and distract his crush from the pain. It didn’t work. Peter was in pain, and the more he was in pain, the more Harley felt it. He hated seeing Peter in pain, and the actual wound almost made him throw up.

The recently-sawed piece of rebar sticking through the city boy’s waist was sure to haunt Harley’s nightmares until Peter found himself with a worse injury in a few weeks time. The rusted coil looked stuck painfully in Peter, and Harley visibly winced - no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

“It’s not as bad as it looks’” the spider boy mumbled.

“Not as bad- Pete, what’s bad to you if this ain’t?!” The southerner exclaimed hysterically.

Peter winced at the loud noise, his senses obviously in overdrive due to the pain. Honestly, Harley would’ve been a lot more concerned for the younger boy’s comfort if he didn’t look about 4 seconds away from keeling over and dropping dead on Midtown High’s boys’ bathroom tiles.

Harley lowered Peter onto the floor gently, laying him on his back and taking off his own jumper to provide some sort of comfort for the young boy. Although, it was lacking in their current predicament.

Peter:

Peter whined at the cold tiles underneath him, but he knew it was safer.

“Ok, we can either go to the hospital, tell the old man and get him ti sort you out, or i can try.” Harley bluntly laid out his options. He couldn’t go to the hospital due to his spider blood and DNA and his dad would flip his shit the second he found out. With Harley studying medicine online, Peter trusted that he wouldn’t let him bleed out.

“You, you can-can do it,” a mix of a grunt and a wheeze left the city boy’s lips.
Luckily, it was literate enough for the southerner to understand.

Harley got up to collect what he needed: toilet paper, a rather large Tupperware box of water, web solution to act as makeshift bandages, a sewing needle and thread and a lighter. Lifting Peter up again, he placed bundles of tissue paper under the entry wound, ready to catch the spundle of blood about to shoot out. Harley then threaded up the needle in preparation and grabbed a towel form his PE bag. He dunked it in the ware and bundled it around the hole in Peter’s stomach. Seeing the small bit of rebar sticking out his front, Harley reached for it and relied in pure strength that he had built up as Iron Lad.

“Ok darlin, this is gonna hurt like hell,” Harley warned, empathy dripping off his tone.
Peter simply nodded and grabbed onto Harley’s thigh for emotional support.
“You want me to pull it out slowly or in one go quickly?” The Tennessee teen questioned.
Peter whined in a ‘just-get-it-over-with’ tone.

Harley:

Adjusting his hold, the older boy got ready to pull the rebar out. Regretting all his decisions that lead to him causing Peter pain, Harley yanked the rebar out.

Peter’s screams echoed off the empty bathroom walls, scarring forever in Harley’s mind.

Once again, Harley found himself trying to shush a crying Peter. Both their clothes had been dyed dark crimson from the spouting blood. Harley tried his hardest to ignore it, slipping into his nurse’s mindset. He pinched the skin together, proceeding to sew it together; it would be shaky but enough to last till Tony found out and sent him down to the Med Bay. If he did so bad, Peter might be left with a slightly jagged scar due to his enhanced healing.

Harley continued to sew the wound up, helping Peter to his feet afterwards. They both went to the nurses’ office immediately, and Peter ended up going home for the day.

When Harley arrived home back at the tower that afternoon, he was happy to see Peter running into his arms and grumbling about being grounded until college or something. It didn’t really matter, considering Harley was too infatuated with the brunette in his arms.

He would never be completely fine after sewing up his best friend, but none of that mattered if Peter was okay.

Chapter Text

Peter:

To be fair, it wasn’t his fault that all his cozy, customised for his sensory issues jumpers were in the wash. Plus, Harley had never said he couldn’t steal his clothes, just also never said that he could.

That’s what left Peter scrummaging through his boyfriend of 2 months’ wardrobe, looking desperately for a hoodie to ‘borrow’. In all honesty, Pete had no intention of actually giving it back, but that was for him to know and Harley to eventually figure out.

Plus, Harley wasn’t going to be at the tower today, so it wasn’t like he would find out anyway.

Eventually, Peter found one he deemed satisfactory and continued to his bedroom to continue reading upside down.

Harley:

Now, Harley was meant to be at some rich kid with his head up his arse’s party this evening, but with Peter being out of commission due to his unfortunate shark week (or dick explosion, as Harley like to call it) and being unable to come with him, it didn’t seem nearly as appealing anymore. Granted, it was going to be insufferable anyway, but with Peter there, he may have actually survived it. Now it was an absolutely not.

So, Harley was going to surprise Peter at the tower to help him feel better - like a good boyfriend should. Obviously, if he had contacted Peter and told him, it would’ve ruined said surprise. In hindsight, Harley probably should’ve contacted Peter, only if to save them both some dignity.

Peter:

Honestly, Peter thought that partners were supposed to share clothes - at least that’s what the relationship TikTok’s he’d been watching told him. So as he curled up in bed, asking FRIDAY to play Star Wars A New Hope and snuggled into Harley’s hoodie, Peter felt the most content than he had in the past few years. The only thing missing was Harley to cuddle up to.

His stomach and back were feeling a hell of a lot better now, but Peter was still high on the superhuman pain drugs his dad and Dr Cho had given him. It was safe to say that Peter wasn’t in his right mind currently. So when FRIDAY notified him of someone in the tower, it wasn’t his fault that he had no idea who it was.

Peter was almost back to sleep when a loud (that was probably actually quite quiet, but Peter’s enhanced heating and semi-conscious state made it incredibly loud) bang of his door against the wall echoed out. On instinct, Peter jumped up, unfortunately sticking to the ceiling. He was still tangled in his covers (A/N duvet, sheets, Americans tut tut), legs contorted at a weird angle and eyes groggily opening, when he heard a small snicker from the doorway. Peter’s eyes squinted in thought, subconsciously recognising the voice. It sounded suspiciously like Harley, but he was at a party tonight with some rich ass snob so it couldn’t be him.

“Dad go ‘way,” Peter muttered into his duvet.

The chuckle came again, sounding even more suspiciously like Harley. With his eyes still unfocused, the small spider boy couldn’t identify the figure at his door, but he could hear them nice and clear.

“Wow, that’s a kink I didn’t know you had darlin’.” A southern accent tinged the tease, and Peter jumped (read: fell) off the ceiling, quickly followed by the tangle of sheets encompassing him. Quickly recognising the voice, Peter scrambled out of his position on the floor, cheeks flushed red with embarrassment in front of his new boyfriend. However, this proved to be a horrible idea once he remembered what he was wearing: Harley's sweatshirt. It was one of his old ones from his secondary school in Rose Hill tbat he had brought with him to New York. Unfortunately; Harley recognised the hoodie too, cocking his head to the side with a warm yet confused smile gracing his features.

"Is that mine?" The older boy had a slight accusatory tone ti his voice.
"Is what yours?" Peter deflected intellectually.
"The sweatshirt," Harley stalked forward slowly, trying to not set off the younger boy's spider sense.
There was a pause, but then "No?"
For all his bravado as Spider-Man, Peter lacked all confidence, common sense and logic in that reply.

Harley raised an eyebrow, causing Peter to sigh and admit that, yes, he had stolen his jumper. Expecting to be told off, Peter curled into himself slightly, making Harley's brows furrow in confusion.
"Darlin', I'm not mad you stole it, you're allowed to take my clothes anytime you want." His face changed into one of warmth and admiration for his adorable boyfriend.

Peter tilted his head in confusion, furrowing his brows in a show of misunderstanding. He sincerely expected Harley to be mad at him for stealing his clothes. It didn't matter though, because now he knew that Harley's clothes were his now.