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Peter woke up on a thin mattress with an even thinner blanket on top of him. The scratchiness of the blanket was the first thing he noticed when he came to. The second thing he noticed was the pounding in his skull. The third thing he noticed was the man standing over him.
He had expressive brown eyes, short brown hair, and a clean goatee. There was a crease between his eyebrows, as if he were worried about something, and the rest of his face was twisted in that worry. It melted a little, though, when he saw Peter's eyes open, and he managed a half-smile.
He slowly pushed a hand forward to curl it through Peter's hair, and the boy leaned against it instinctively. It took a moment for him to realize that he recognized the man, and he still wasn't quite able to figure out how he knew him.
"Hey, Pete. How do you feel? You scared us for a second there." His voice was gentle, tender, kind, and laced with that same worry that was in his expression, though he seemed like he was trying to hide it.
Peter blinked up at him, his own expression portraying clear, unfiltered confusion. He looked around as best he could, though he could really only see straight in front of him considering the two raised sides of the bed. "Uh... What happened?" he asked, his speech slurring a little bit.
The man laughed, as if Peter was joking, and gently bapped the boy on the nose. "You fell a few stories on patrol, kid. Did you get your brain scrambled back there?" He kept his tone light, though that worry came back in a little bit when Peter didn't respond.
Instead, Peter seemed to be panicking a little bit, because nothing there, except for the man, seemed remotely familiar. "Patrol?" He stiffened when he noticed that there was a third heartbeat in the room, then the faint stirring of another body, joints cracking slightly as someone stretched.
Peter managed to sit up so he could finally see above the raised dividers on the bed. To his right he saw a gray armchair in which a boy was curled, dozing. He looked sixteen, maybe seventeen, and had blonde hair that was a little bit flattened on one side from where he'd been laying on it.
He yawned, revealing clean, slightly stained teeth, and arched his back like a cat. "You up, city boy?" he asked in a sleepy voice that was thickened slightly by a southern accent, then cracked two blue eyes open.
His mouth curled into a smile when he saw that Peter was awake, and, ignoring the older man's expression, he hopped up from his seat to come kiss Peter on the forehead. "How you feeling? You really scared me there, you goose."
Peter didn't answer at first, instead only blinking up at the boy as he pulled back a little bit to stand by the man. He was taller, maybe by three or four inches, and his heart sounded stronger than the man's. He was beautiful, a little bit rugged, like one of those male leads for Hallmark movies or low-budget westerns, only a lot younger. Peter could feel his own heartbeat pick up as he looked at him, only he couldn't tell why that was.
He could add that to the increasingly long list of things he didn't know in that moment: exactly who these people were, where he was, why he was there, why the boy kissed his forehead... The list just kept getting longer.
"Uh... Am I supposed to know you?" Peter asked, staring at the blonde with a frown. At the question, the boy's grin slowly faded into something horrified.
"Do you... Do you not?" His next movement toward Peter was more cautious, like he was about to pet a wild animal. He knelt down next to the bed, levelling himself with Peter. His hand moved to join Peter's, and he threaded their fingers together.
Peter stared at their entwined fingers, then at the boy's now-close face. "Um... No."
He immediately heard the boy's heart stutter, and the man—Peter remembered him then as Dad—backed out of the curtained-off area where they were with a muttered swear and a thinly-masked look of terror. "Someone get us a doctor, the kid forgot what his boyfriend looks like."
At that, Peter turned his head to the curtain... Tony? Was that his real name? Anyways, he turned his head to that curtain and blinked dazedly. "Boyfriend...? But I don't have a boyfriend."
"Really? Then who's been sneaking into my bedroom for the past month?" The boy chuckled softly, though its undertone was clearly nervous. It was like he was trying to hide that part with humor, and Peter could tell he and Tony—yes, his name was definitely Tony—shared that trait.
"Um, not me. You got the wrong guy." In contrast, Peter's tone was entirely serious. He didn't know who this boy was, and while he'd absolutely love to be his boyfriend judging from his accent and looks alone, he didn't want to lead him on or something.
He pulled his hand away, and the boy practically whimpered as he glanced away. "No, I don't," he said in a small voice, shaking his head slightly. His hand extended again as if he wanted to cling to Peter's, but he stopped himself. It stayed in the air for a second, hovering, before he slowly pulled it back to his side. "We're gonna fix this, okay?"
Peter just blinked up at him. "Fix what?"
"You not remembering..." The boy's breath seemed to catch for a moment. He was thinking, it was clear on his face. "...I wonder what else you don't remember." He stared at Peter's face, as if analyzing every inch of it. "If you don't remember me, I mean, there must be other stuff."
Peter opened his mouth to say... he didn't know what, actually, but the curtain was quickly thrown open by Tony. Three doctors entered behind him. He recognized one, a dark-haired woman, but couldn't remember her name.
"Look, Dad," Peter started, then leaned in closer. His speech dropped into a whisper. "This guy thinks he's my boyfriend and I don't know what I'm supposed to do here."
Tony was clearly concerned as he tilted his head slightly, reaching out to smooth Peter's hair. "He thinks he's your boyfriend because he is your boyfriend, Roo. That's Harley."
At the name, Peter furrowed his eyebrows, recoiling slightly in surprise. "Harley's- Harley's a kid." His voice dropped even lower, into a hiss. "He's really tall for a kid, y'know that, right? And I- I shouldn't be dating him, that's inappropriate."
"He's your age."
"No, but I'm... I'm definitely not a kid. He should be, like, 13 or something, last time I checked. And he doesn't live here."
"He's 17, and he moved here a year ago. You were there." Tony was clearly trying to be gentle, but that didn't mean Peter wasn't confused and a little bit scared. None of this made sense to him; he couldn't have forgotten he had a boyfriend, could he?
The doctors decided that he could've.
The one he'd recognized—she told him she was Dr. Helen Cho—said it was because of the concussion. He got hurt because he fell a long way, because he'd run out of something. He didn't understand why he was up so high or any of that, but Dr. Cho said it was 'transient global amnesia' and as his 'healing factor' worked, his memories would come back.
She didn't know how long it'd be, but she was trying to reassure him, Tony, Harley, and Pepper—Peter's mom, who had left a SI meeting as soon as she heard—that it'd most likely be pretty quick.
Until then, Peter was allowed to go up to the penthouse as long as he stayed there until this was resolved (at Tony's request, not Cho's. Something about getting swarmed?). Peter agreed quickly, not wanting to be stuck there any longer.
:/ (hey Rick!)
Harley was, in a word, worried about his boyfriend. If it were explained in many words, it'd be an entire essay about how completely idiotic Peter had to be in order to get his brain scrambled so hard that he forgot about him.
There they were, sitting on the couch together in the penthouse. Usually, Peter would be sitting a lot closer to Harley, or even splayed across his lap and purring like an oversized cat. Here, though, he was a world-ending 4 feet away, curled against the opposite armrest, and Harley privately hated it.
He wore a hoodie that he'd picked out without even knowing it was Harley's, a soft, dark blue one that he'd 'borrowed' a month ago and never gave back. He'd changed into it out of the dust-and-blood-covered spider suit, which he'd had a lot of questions about and Harley had gently tried to explain. Peter didn't quite understand, but he got the gist well enough to stop asking.
Harley wished Tony and Pepper hadn't had to go back to work; Peter at least knew them. Neither of them had wanted to, but Peter said it was fine too quickly before Harley could protest.
Now, Harley was trying not to notice Peter staring at him from down the couch. "So... Uh... You're really my boyfriend? My dad didn't lie about that?" His was fidgeting with the web shooters around his wrists, muscle memory by now.
"Yeah," Harley confirmed, voice soft. "Yeah, I am."
Peter stilled at that, seeming to consider it for a moment. His mouth opened, then shut, then opened again. "...Sorry. For, uh, not remembering."
"It's okay," Harley said, just a little bit too quickly. "It's not your fault, sunshine." He froze at the pet name as soon as he said it, his eyes growing wide. "Or do you- do you not want me to call you that stuff when-?"
"No!" Peter quickly shook his head, then smiled, small and a bit awkward. He was blushing. "I mean, no, you can. It's weird, but... I like it."
Harley nods softly. "Yeah, it is. To the weird bit, I mean. I probably should've got used to weird by now, with all that's happened to us."
At that, Peter snorted, leaning back on the couch. "Wish I remembered what's happened," he muttered quietly. From Harley's perspective, he looked sad. Maybe that was just Harley projecting, though.
Harley scootched closer to Peter without really thinking about it. He noticed that Peter seemed marginally surprised, but he didn't push him away. Instead, his head slowly tilted onto Harley's perfectly-angled shoulder.
Harley's arm wrapped around Peter's back, followed by his other arm around his abdomen. He looked down at the brunette with a fond expression. "Comfy?"
"It's weird," Peter repeated, then nodded with a soft purr. "Really weird. But yeah, I'm comfy."
It was weird for Harley, too, but he didn't bring that up. At least Harley knew Peter. Right then, Peter didn't really know Harley.
Harley slowly breathed in through his nose, then, to fill the silence, said, "do you remember Star Wars?"
Peter perked up immediately at that, gaze snapping onto Harley's eyes. "Yep. Yeah. Very well."
Harley snorted a short laugh as he looked at Peter, smiling. "Of course you do. You know what I want, FRI."
At his words, the lights dimmed and the TV turned on. The opening scene of The Empire Strikes Back began to play, and at the very front of his mind Harley hoped it could jog some sort of memory for Peter. Specifically, he was hoping for a memory of him.
That didn't happen.
Instead, Peter pulled a blanket down from the back of the couch and tilted his torso until his head was in Harley's lap. His legs jutted out to one side, and he threw the blanket over them before pulling it up to his chest.
His blinks grew increasingly slower for the next twenty or so minutes before he fell asleep, purring as Harley carded a gentle hand through his hair. Harley knew he needed the rest, but it was a little bit disappointing either way.
:/
Harley was roused into consciousness at three that night by the slight creaking sound of his bedroom door opening and the almost-silent footsteps of someone coming in. They stopped halfway between the doorway and the bed, hesitant, as if they were reconsidering their decision to enter.
Harley stilled at the sound, then slowly, cautiously, blinked his eyes open and turned his head toward the figure.
It was Peter, and he looked terrible.
Even in the negligible light, Harley could tell that his face was red and slightly puffy, like he'd been crying. He looked exhausted; he definitely hadn't slept. He was wearing a slightly too big t-shirt — Tony's, Harley guessed — and fidgeting with his hands.
He noticed Harley staring at him, and they kept that deer-in-the-headlights-esque activity up for a solid 15 seconds before Harley slowly pulled the corner of the blanket down and patted the bed.
Peter scrambled into it immediately, though he laid on the very edge like he was still uncertain about whether he wanted to be there. Harley extended his hand, though, and he slowly took it, then purred and set his cheek on the pillow. Harley's room had to be better than his own half-familiar bedroom, and he knew he was able to fall asleep when he was with the boy earlier.
He slowly, reluctantly scootched in closer, and Harley smiled a soft, sleepy smile. He reached out with his free hand to wrap his arm around the boy's shoulders, then shut his eyes again and wordlessly drifted back to sleep.
:/
Harley woke up the next morning to a noticeably empty space above his arm. His arm itself was a little numb, with a red space where Peter had been laying, clearly recently. He sat up, stretching his arms over his head and wiggling the numb one in an attempt to get the feeling back while he looked around his room for Peter.
That's when he heard a clatter in the attached bathroom, then a soft swear before his boyfriend emerged with two mugs and a slightly guilty expression that melted into pure joy when he saw that Harley was awake. He jogged over to the nightstand and set the mugs down before pulling Harley into the tightest hug he could muster. "I love you so much and I'm never getting a concussion again."
Harley made a sound of slight surprise, though he reciprocated the hug as quickly as was physically possible. "I'm holding you to that, jellybean." He kissed the boy's hairline. "So… I'm assuming you remember me again?" His tone was a little bit cautious, but he really needed to know.
Peter pulled himself onto the bed, getting himself entirely in Harley's personal space by splaying across him. It wasn't like Harley minded, though. "Yep." He leaned against Harley's chest a little, purring softly. "Sorry for putting you through all that."
"You should be," Harley said with a soft chuckle, then shook his head. "But it's okay. It wasn't your fault."
Peter started to say something, but his words got lost in another purr when Harley threaded a hand through his hair. He fully laid down on top of the blonde, chest to chest. "I brought you coffee."
"Thanks, sunshine," Harley said, tilting his head a little bit to kiss Peter's hair before trying to sit up. The brunette grumbled slightly, then rolled off with a dramatic huff. Harley reached for the two mugs, taking the one with the stronger aroma and passing the other one (decaf) to Peter. Peter sat up and took it, then leaned into Harley's side. "I missed you."
Harley took a long sip of his coffee, then glanced at Peter. "We've been together this whole time."
"I know," Peter said, wrapping his leg around Harley's. "But not like normal. I couldn't remember why I love you."
Harley sighed a little, then reached for Peter's hand. When Peter reciprocated, he rubbed his thumb in small circles along the back of it. "You're okay, now, though. That's a perk of speed healing, right?"
"Right," Peter said, looking up at Harley with a soft smile. "I love you so much."
"I love you, too," Harley answered immediately. He leaned back against the headboard, his boyfriend against his side, both of them ready to sit in the content silence of each other.