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Peter sat curled up on the modular couch in his and Harley’s sky-rise apartment, one leg draped over the back cushion and a well-worn book in hand. He was grateful for air conditioning on this scorching summer day. Early June temperatures in New York were hell-bent on breaking records, and Peter knew better than to test the limits of his half-spider DNA. Being part spider apparently came with lousy thermoregulation, and he'd learned the hard way not to push it when the heat advisories started rolling in. These days, he obeys the warnings like gospel. That means inside time, AC on, book in hand, and a tall glass of sweet tea.
Harley, on the other hand, was a Southern boy through and through. The kind of guy who didn’t feel truly awake unless he’d sweated through his shirt at least once that day. He insisted that running in the heat was invigorating , that it built character and stamina. Peter had tried to understand the appeal, but the closest he came to enjoying running was when he was chasing bad guys, and even that was purely out of necessity. Still, if lacing up his sneakers and pushing himself through Central Park at the hottest time of day made Harley happy, then Peter wasn’t about to argue.
Peter checked his watch. He glanced at the time. Harley had been gone longer than usual, which wasn’t necessarily alarming. Sometimes he took a different route or stopped to talk with someone — Harley was social like that, always collecting stray conversations and odd little stories on his way home. Peter figured the extra time just meant Harley was clocking in some bonus miles and would be starving when he returned. With that in mind, he set his book aside and padded barefoot into the kitchen, setting a pot of water on the stove to boil and pulling some veggies from the fridge.
The front door clicked open.
Peter called over his shoulder, “Hey, Harls. How was your run?” He expected the usual ramble about dog sightings or surprise bird attacks. “You see that golden retriever again? Or the grumpy old guy with the pigeons?”
There was no answer—just the sharp clatter of keys hitting the floor.
Peter’s shoulders tensed. “Harley?”
Harley rushed into the kitchen, dripping with sweat. He didn’t even say hello. He went straight to the fridge, yanked it open, and grabbed the first bottle of water in reach.
“Thirsty,” he gasped, and downed the bottle in three enormous gulps. The plastic crumpled in his hand. He grabbed another and did the same. Then a third.
Peter blinked. “Whoa, save some for the fish.” He tried to keep his tone light, but his eyes narrowed as he watched Harley. He could hear his heart pounding way too fast in his chest, and he looked more worn out than usual.
Harley grabbed a fourth water bottle and closed the fridge. He leaned heavily against it, pressing his cheek against the cool metal. He took a long sip of water before capping the bottle and sliding it onto the counter.
“Saw a squirrel fight a rat,” he said with a tired smile.
Peter raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah?”
“Rat, uh… Rat won.” Harley was still struggling to catch his breath.
Peter frowned. “Okay, hey. Come here.” He crossed the kitchen and slid his hands onto Harley’s hips, holding him steady. “Slow down a sec, okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth.”
Despite how bad he felt, Harley snorted a laugh. “Yeah, yeah.”
“Hey, it works and you know it,” Peter said softly. “Now, come on. Breathe with me.”
Sure enough, after another minute or so, Harley got his breathing under control. “I’m good.” He tried to give Peter a reassuring smile, but it fell flat.
“Yeah?” Peter handed him his water bottle. “How about you take this with you and go take a cool shower? I’ll have lunch ready when you’re done.”
Harley shook his head. “I think I’m gonna skip the shower and just lie down.”
“No shower?” Peter teased softly. “You, Mr. ‘I-refuse-to-touch-the-bed-until-I’m-squeaky-clean’?”
“I’ll clean the sheets later,” he said absently. “I’m not feeling that great.”
“No kidding. You’re shaking like a leaf and I’m pretty sure there’s a puddle of your sweat just inside the front door. Talk to me, baby. What’s bothering you?”
“Dizzy mostly. And my stomach is doin’ flips.” A shiver ran down his spine. Peter brushed a soothing hand through his sweaty hair. “Can’t tell if I’m hot or cold.”
Peter pressed his knuckles to Harley’s cheek. “Definitely hot.”
Harley smirked. “You think so?”
“Oh, shut up.” Peter pressed a kiss to his temple. “Alright, go lie down. I’ll get you a cool towel and something for your stomach.”
Harley pushed off from the refrigerator, but when he took a step forward, he stumbled and staggered into the island. He braced himself on the countertop and before he even processed the movement, Peter was at his side with an arm wrapped around his waist.
“I’m fine,” Harley insisted. “Just pushed too hard trying to beat my mile PR today.”
“No, you are not fine,” Peter said, taking more of Harley’s weight. “And until you can prove to me otherwise, I’m helping you.”
As Peter guided Harley to bed, he took a better look at him. Sure, he was hot and flushed, but his skin was also covered in goosebumps. It was then that Peter noticed Harley had stopped sweating entirely, and his skin was now bone dry. He looked up to Harley’s face and saw his eyes half shut and dazed. “Harley? Hey, you’re too quiet.”
Harley groaned. “Don’t feel good, Petey.”
“I know. I know you don’t. I’m gonna get you feeling better once you’re in bed, okay? Almost there.”
But Harley didn’t make it. He went completely limp at Peter’s side.
“Shit—okay. Okay.” He lifted Harley into his arms. “You’re not allowed to do this to me,” he murmured, carrying him into the bedroom and laying him gently on the bed.
He fumbled his watch off and strapped it onto Harley’s wrist. “Karen,” he said quickly. “Status?”
“Mr. Keener is experiencing symptoms of heat stroke. Immediate intervention is required to prevent hospitalization.”
Peter swallowed hard. “Walk me through it.”
Karen’s voice was calm, clinical. “Remove all unnecessary clothing. Lower core temperature. Begin hydration.”
Peter nodded, fingers already working at Harley’s shirt. “Hey, Harls. Come on, baby. Wake up for me.”
“Air conditioning has been lowered.”
Peter kept rambling as he worked. “Gotta admit you’re scaring me. I’m gonna need you to wake up and tell me everything's alright.”
He was pulling off Harley’s shoes and socks when Harley came to. “There you go. Hey, baby.” Harley blinked up at him, eyes hazy.
Peter tugged off Harley’s shorts, and to his surprise, Harley started laughing.
“Couldn’t wait to get me in bed, huh?” His words were slurred, making his drawl sound stronger.
Peter let out an anxious chuckle. “Later, cowboy. Right now, I’m just trying to keep you alive.”
“Romantic,” Harley slurred, eyes fluttering. “Gimme a kiss.”
Peter quickly leaned up and pecked Harley on the lips. As he did, Harley grabbed his collar and tried to deepen the kiss.
Peter pulled back. “Harley, I gotta get you cooled down. Now is not the time for you to be horny.” Peter stripped the last of his clothes off and tucked a pillow behind his back. “Karen, what's next?”
“Cool bath recommended.”
Peter was already turning to head to the bathroom when Harley grabbed his wrist. “You don’t want to kiss me?” Harley pouted.
“I do, Harls. You know I do, but first I gotta get you better.”
“But darlin’,” Harley looked like he might cry.
“But nothing. I’ll be right back. Don’t move.” Peter rushed into the bathroom and turned on the faucet before returning to Harley’s side.
“Do you love me?”
Peter paused. Of course, this was when Harley got sentimental—half-cooked like a southern-fried turkey and turned into a total sap. Peter sat on the edge of the bed and cupped Harley’s cheek. “Of course, I love you. I love you more than anything, okay? And I especially love you when you’re alive and healthy. Just trust that what I’m doing right now is for your own good.”
Harley nodded, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes. “I love you, too.”
Peter kissed Harley’s forehead as Karen spoke up again.
“Continuous fluid intake recommended.”
Peter helped Harley sit up. “Just a few sips and then I’ll help you to the bath.” He handed Harley his water bottle and went to turn off the water. Just as he turned off the tap, the sound of rushing water was replaced by a harsh cough and gag from the bedroom. “Harley?”
“Gonna be sick,” Harley mumbled, pressing his fist to his lips.
Peter quickly grabbed the small trash can from their bathroom and rushed to Harley’s side. He sat on the bed and held the trash can in front of his chest.
“Just lean forward. It’ll be over soon, baby.”
Harley’s body jumped with another gag, but he kept his mouth firmly shut.
“Try to relax, okay? I know everything sucks right now but you’ve gotta let your body do what it needs to do.”
Harley shook his head and tried to fight it, but quickly lost his battle. He pitched forward suddenly and spewed his breakfast into the can. Peter traced his fingers up and down Harley’s spine to try to soothe him. The first round left Harley panting, and the second made him utterly exhausted. He leaned his head against Peter’s chest.
“I f’l like shit.”
“I know, baby. I’m sorry.” Peter carded his fingers through Harley’s hair. “Think you can try that bath, now?”
“Can’t move.”
“I’ll carry you.”
Harley thought about it for a minute. “Okay.”
Peter stood and scooped Harley into his arms and cradled him to his chest. The change in altitude, albeit small, made Harley’s eyes roll, and he slipped back into unconsciousness. Peter frowned and kissed the top of his head before bringing him to the tub and slowly lowering him into the water. Harley’s body involuntarily tensed, but soon relaxed as the water soothed his overheated skin.
Peter cupped his hands and began pouring water over Harley’s head. “Karen?”
“Yes, Peter?”
“How bad is it?”
“His temperature is lowering. Risk of hospitalization is now minimal, though he will remain symptomatic for the next 24 to 48 hours. Continuing rest, fluids, and temperature monitoring are necessary.”
Peter nodded to himself. “Will you let me know when I can take him out?”
“Of course, Peter.”
Peter reached under their sink and pulled out a washcloth. He wet it and began swiping it over Harley’s face and neck. Eventually, Harley stirred awake.
“Peter?” He started to shiver. “What’s happening?”
“You got overheated. I’m cooling you down.”
“But I’m freezing. ”
“That’s cause you’ve got a fever. Just a few more minutes, okay?”
Harley nodded. “I’m thirsty.”
Peter filled a cup for him in the sink. “Small sips. And let me know if you’re gonna throw up again.”
“Again?”
“Twice already,” Peter cups his hands and pours water over Harley’s hair. “Head’s a little foggy, huh?”
“Yeah. It’s there in pieces, but I think I fried my brain.”
“Does this mean I’m officially the smarter one?” Peter teased.
“Keep telling yourself that,” Harley scoffed. “Think Tony will be mad if I don’t come in today? I feel like I could sleep for a week.”
“Tony would kick your ass if you even thought about coming in. I’ll call him once you’re settled.”
“Don’t tell him that I was a dumbass today. Tell him I caught the flu or something.”
“He knows you’re a dumbass. He doesn’t need my confirmation.”
“Hey, be nice to me. I don’t feel good.”
“Fine. But only cause of that cute little pout you’re doing.”
“You think I’m cute?” A smile played on Harley’s lips.
Peter let out a sigh of feigned exasperation. “I think you’re adorable. But no kisses until you brush your teeth.”
“Toothbrush,” Harley demanded. Peter laughed and handed it to him. As he started to brush his teeth, Karen informed them that his temperature had normalized. Harley swished and spat his toothpaste into the water as Peter helped him climb out.
Peter wrapped him in a towel and dried him off before bringing him back to the bedroom. He changed Harley into nothing more than a pair of loose boxers despite his insistence that he was still cold.
Peter got Harley propped up against some pillows. “Drink some more for me?” Harley agreed and took the unfinished water bottle Peter offered. When he was finished, he laid back against the pillows. “Tired?”
“Mhm.” Harley’s eyes were already closed, his head nuzzled into Peter’s ribs.
Peter began gently massaging Harley’s tight neck and shoulder muscles. “Get some rest, baby. I’ll be right here.”