Chapter Text
Chapter One
Peter Parker understood fear.
He understood the purely visceral fear of death, that moment in between life flashing before your eyes and the realization that this is it. It was the feeling he had the first time that he lost the grip on his webbing somewhere over Brooklyn. He had let go for a second and the spider-sense kicked in too late. He felt gravity take him, squirming as his body went on autopilot, sending out another line of web fluid. He hit the side of a building, crashing and rolling onto the ground before his memories drifted to his parents.
He understood the gnawing unknown clawing at the periphery, the underlying question of “what now?” tainting everything else. It didn’t hit him until he was standing in front of Uncle Ben’s grave with Aunt May in his arms; when “nothing will ever be the same” hit him like a truck. He didn’t want to think about the finances and the paperwork and what to do with all of Uncle Ben’s stuff. All he could ask was “what now?” and he had no answer.
Peter understood another kind of fear, one that he kept hidden inside himself, one he only admitted to in the dark of his room through teary eyes. A fear that ate at him slowly, like a spider sucking the life out of an insect caught in its web.
If it didn’t hurt so much, Peter may have appreciated the irony.
***
“Pete! Earth to Pete!” Peter jumped at the sound of fingers snapping by his ears. He had been drifting off again. Too many late nights as Spider-Man, followed by too many late nights with Harry, were taking their toll.
Not that he minded, looking over at the handsome boy he was studying with. And dating. Right, can’t forget that, Peter thought. He stuck his tongue out at Harry, who simply smiled and wound a lock of his perfect curly hair around his finger. Peter tried not to melt into his chair.
“Sorry, Har,” he said, looking back down at his math book, “I zoned out for a second.”
“I’m not complaining,” Harry said, grinning. “Now my brain can catch up. You move too fast for me Pete, I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep up with you.”
Peter blushed. “Can we start by keeping up with your calculus homework?”
Harry let out an overdramatic sigh. “Fiiine. But you’re going to pay for this later.” Harry said, winking at his boyfriend.
Peter was pretty sure his level of blushing was inventing new shades of red, but he cleared his throat and continued with his math lesson.
***
He wasn’t sure how it happened, in retrospect. He was pretty sure it started with the spider bite.
It snowballed from there, Peter thought. He became Spider-Man, started helping people. Then Nick Fury had approached him about leading/coaching/babysitting (in Peter’s opinion) a team of superheroes, and Peter went from having two friends (MJ and Harry) to having an actual group of friends. Super-friends, if he was really feeling like annoying Sam that day. Flash Thompson started leaving him alone, and seemed to be attempting overtures of friendship—to impress MJ more than anything else, but still.
Then, there was Harry. Harry had entered his life in the middle of a storm and quickly became his best friend. Two boys with daddy issues against the world. Hanging out after school turned into all-night monster movie marathons (not “sleepovers”, as Aunt May called them) which turned into going “stag” to school events together and late nights staying up talking (still not “sleepovers”, Aunt May, those were for ten-year-old girls) and pretending that Harry wasn’t everything that Peter wanted. Then, one day, re-watching the original Godzilla for the eighty zillionth time and arguing over something stupid, Harry had grabbed Peter’s shoulders, pulled him in and kissed him. Peter kissed him back so hard he felt teeth crash together.
After the kiss, when Peter asked Harry if they were dating now, Harry had thrown his head back, laughed, and said “Weren’t we already?” and Peter fell completely in love.
***
Peter zipped his hoodie against the cold fall day. Harry slid his hand into the pocket of Peter’s hoodie, grabbing his hand and holding it. Peter smiled up at Harry, who still managed to make a two-inch height difference feel like two feet.
Midtown High had a half-day and Harry insisted on walking Peter home from their lunch date. Well, Peter had insisted on walking home instead of getting a ride from Harry’s chauffeurs and Harry had insisted on being with Peter and they compromised. The couple walked in easy silence, enjoying the falling leaves.
“Aunt May said to remember where you put your bag next time you sleepover.”
Harry grinned sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to wake her up. Really.”
“You woke me up too, you jerk.” Peter nudged Harry.
“Yeah, but you don’t make me breakfast so I don’t care.” Harry nudged Peter back.
“Gonna stay over tonight?” Peter asked, hopefully.
“I can’t. I have dinner with my dad.” Harry frowned.
Peter felt the air get colder. “That sounds like fun."
"You know I'd rather be with you, Peter. But it's my dad..."
"It’s okay, Har," Peter interrupted. They had a version of this conversation once a week. Still, Peter had to have it. "Are you going to tell him?”
Harry sighed. “You know I can’t right now.”
“I know.”
“Hey.” Harry squeezed Peter’s hand. “He’s going away on business next week. We’ll have the house to ourselves. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Peter stiffened. “Nachos?” He said.
Peter knew Harry was sighing internally, but he didn’t show it. “And beer, Pete. So much beer.”
"I don't know about that."
"Soda, then. You square."
“Perfect.” Said Peter, leaning over to kiss Harry’s cheek.
Harry looked around before turning Peter around to give him a sloppy wet kiss on the lips.
“Ewww!” Peter said, making wiping motions. “You’re gross.”
“And you’re home.”
Peter looked away from his boyfriend’s eyes to his modest house. He didn’t see Aunt May’s car in the driveway but saw the beginnings of a pile of leaves on his front lawn.
“Man,” said Harry, looking at the same pile, “I am so glad I don’t have to do chores.”
“Shut up.” Peter playfully retorted. “I guess this is ‘see you later?’”
“You bet, Pete.” Harry gave Peter a kiss on the cheek before turning away. “I…bye Pete.” He said, before turning and walking away.
Peter waved at Harry’s retreating back before walking up the porch into his house. He knew something was up with Harry. And it was his fault.
Harry would never say it out loud, of course, but they had been together for three months. Peter could see it in the way Harry looked at him, in the way his eyes drifted over Peter’s entire body when he stretched. It was only natural for Harry to expect certain things. And Peter wasn’t opposed to them. He thought about them all the time, so much so that he was pretty sure he’d find “Harry Osborn’s perfect mouth” written, by accident, in his English paper. But he wasn’t ready. Especially not for explaining the reasons why.
Peter shrugged it off. Those thoughts wouldn’t help him get chores done. He grabbed a warmer coat from the back closet and headed out into the yard, grabbing a rake conveniently leaning against the back of the house. He started raking, humming to himself. Some pop song that Ava got stuck in his head on purpose.
He almost didn’t hear it. He was engrossed in raking and humming and not thinking about how Harry’s designer jeans made his butt look perfect and oh so squeezable. He heard it though, over and over.
“Hey, Pete!”
Peter set down the rake for a second, looking over to the back fence. An older boy, with hair so blond it was almost white, leaned against the fence. “Hey Pete, remember me?”
Peter heard, for the first time in years, the voice of an old friend enemy, an abuser, a predator. He felt his world shatter.