Archive of Our Own

Peter Parker was just an idiot. A complete and utter fool. A schmuck, even. Usually he managed to screw up five times before breakfast every day, but this — this was a new low.

Neither he nor MJ moved a muscle as they stood in the alleyway, staring at each other. MJ, wide-eyed, phone in hand forgotten. Peter, in his Spider-Man suit. Unmasked.

Like an idiot.

It was a such a simple thing, just a moment of carelessness, too used to his years of routine. Find a nice empty alleyway and get changed before going to meet his friends. And blind dumb luck had MJ taking a shortcut through his chosen alleyway on her way to the café just as Peter swung in and took off his mask.

He couldn’t think of a damn thing to say. The lies were on the tip of his tongue, and, honestly, he would have tried it, were it not for the web still hanging over his head, damning evidence for all to see. MJ appeared equally speechless. Peter could imagine how quickly it would turn to don’t even try it if he started to say this isn’t what it looks like.

And then his phone rang.

Peter jolted out of that unending moment and scrambled for his phone. The screen name said Harry. Peter answered with a gloved hand and put the phone to his ear.

The call seemed to have broken MJ out of her daze, too, and she seemed ready to lay into him, but then Peter said, “Hi, Harry.” And there must have been something on his face, because she instantly deflated, and Peter saw understanding in her eyes. She stood silently as Harry answered on the other end, watching him.

“Hey, where are you?”

“Sorry, Har, I’m running a little late,” Peter said, trying to sound normal.

“Yeah, I know,” Harry said like this was obvious, “it’s just that MJ’s not here yet either, and I got here early, so I’ve been sitting here alone for, like, twenty minutes now.”

That, too. Of all the days for the usually punctual MJ to be late, just in time to catch Peter as she walked by ... God, he hated today.

“I’m sure she’ll show up soon,” Peter said, returning MJ’s gaze. “And I’m almost there. Just give me a few minutes, okay?”

“Yeah, you’d better be,” Harry sighed, sounding far more bored than threatening. “See ya.”

Peter listened to the line go dead.

“Peter—”

“I need to get changed,” Peter said like he didn’t hear her, turning away. “You should go on ahead.”

“ Peter —”

“Later, okay?” Peter pleaded, half facing MJ but not quite meeting her eyes. He tried to wipe off whatever expression was fighting to get onto his face. “Please.”

He must have failed, because MJ’s eventual “Okay,” was soft, and she didn’t even add any kind of but we are talking about this that Peter might have expected, just turned and left the alleyway.

Peter took a breath and hurriedly got changed.

He couldn’t think about this now. Harry was waiting and if both he and MJ were acting strange, he would get suspicious. It wasn’t like Harry could make the connection, but Peter just couldn’t handle this right now. He would put it off forever, given the choice.

Instead, he had until after lunch. So Peter pushed his anxieties down and tried to enjoy this brief respite with his two best friends in the world where he could pretend that one of them hadn’t just found out that he had been lying to them for years. Harry was still in his suit as he always was when he came straight from work, and Peter let himself focus on his folded up sleeves and relaxed smile instead. MJ was nice enough not to torture him through lunch, but Spider-Man was something of a taboo subject around Harry so there was little temptation. Still, he felt her eyes on him as the minutes ticked by until finally and much too soon, Harry announced that he had to get going.

Peter stood up with him, mumbling about the Daily Bugle, only to have MJ grab his arm and say she would walk him there. Oscorp was in the other direction, so they parted ways with Harry at the door and Peter was left alone with MJ and the consequences of his actions.

“So,” MJ said, “I think you owe me an explanation.”

“Yeah?” Peter said evasively, “for what?”

“Oh, I don’t know — maybe why you never in all these years mentioned that you’re apparently Spider-Man?”

Peter shushed her irritatedly, looking around the crowded street where absolutely no one was paying any attention to them. He turned and started walking so he didn’t have to look at MJ, who immediately caught up and fell into step beside him.

“Peter—”

“What do you want me to say?”

He could feel her scrutinising eyes on him. “Are you really, though? Are you actually Spider-Man?”

“If I said no now, would you believe me?”

“No.”

Peter sighed.

“Peter,” MJ said, the playful excitement seeping out of her tone, “I’m really not seeing why you’re the one that gets to be mad about this.”

Peter stopped abruptly and faced her. “MJ, I’m sorry. Okay? I really am. I’m sorry for lying to you, and I’m sorry that I was never going to tell you, because I was really never going to tell you.”

“Thanks, that makes this so much better.”

“MJ, I’m serious.”

This made her take a moment, crossing her arms and tilting her head at him. “Okay,” she said. “then explain that. Why?”

Peter started walking again, slowly this time, and they were silent for a while.

“Because it’s just too dangerous. Do you know how many enemies I have? I don’t. Everyone I care about would be in danger if someone found out. I don’t want you or anyone else getting hurt.”

“Peter, I can take care of myself—”

“I know, MJ, that’s not the point.” He fixed his eyes on her. “How do you think Aunt May would do up against the Sandman? And what if the Jackal decided to attack you on your way to work? I get it, MJ, I do, but I’m not going to subject the people I love to supervillains for no good reason.”

MJ stared at him. “I would think not having to lie to your friends would be considered a good reason.”

Peter sighed. “I made a choice,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, well. Would be easier to be a superhero when your roommate knows,” MJ pointed out.

Peter shrugged. “I managed fine living with Aunt May.”

MJ looked at him then. “God, May. You’ve been doing this since— God, Peter, you’ve been Spider-Man since high school. Since—” She paused at the realisation. “You’ve been Spider-Man ever since we met!”

Peter didn’t have anything to say to that. He just shrugged at her.

“Oh my god,” she just kept saying to herself. “I dated Spider-Man.”

Peter eyed her. “Okay, well, I’d like to think dating Peter Parker is just as mind blowing.”

MJ seemed deep in thought. “Well, your jokes are just as bad.”

Peter made an offended noise. MJ smirked. It was a good moment, until — “So you really never told anyone?”

Peter slowly shook his head.

“ Ever ?”

He looked at her. He didn’t like the expression on her face. It looked ... sad.

“Don’t you get ... lonely?”

This, Peter could not stand. Outed or no, looking one of his best friends in the eye and admitting he had been lonely for years — he couldn’t take that. He couldn’t do that to MJ, either.

“Okay, well, there is one person who knows,” he admitted instead, wondering how he’d forgotten and simultaneously wanting to keep it to himself, but anything was worth it to get that look off her face.

“Yeah?” MJ said curiously, canting her head. “Who?”

“Johnny,” Peter told her. “I mean, he’s in danger all the time anyway, and I’ve known him since the early days, so, like—”

“ Storm ?” MJ said, eyes wide. “As in, the Human Torch? The guy who lights on fire?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Man, I didn’t even think about all the superheroes you know,” MJ said thoughtfully. “You don’t all, like, hang out on weekends or something, do you?”

Peter snorted. “Right. Yeah, MJ, I call up Deadpool on Tuesdays for chimichangas.”

MJ put her hands up. “Alright, alright.”

It was last Thursday, actually. The guy was doing okay at the moment. No killing in weeks.

“But Johnny Storm doesn’t have a ... you know ...” MJ frowned. “Secret identity?”

“No,” Peter agreed, “but he’s there for me. He just— He understands the pressure, you know? And starting so young, especially, since the rest of the Fantastic Four are all so much older than him, and we were both still teenagers when we got our powers.” He caught MJ’s eye and added, “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a total shit.”

MJ shook her head in amazement. “Johnny Storm is a shit.”

Peter nudged her. “Jesus, MJ, I had no idea you were such a fan of the matchstick.”

MJ rolled her eyes. “I’m not, it’s just hard to wrap my head around. You’ve been living an entire secret life the whole time I’ve known you, Parker. You’re two different people. This whole time …”

He couldn’t think of anything to say to this. An apology felt empty and worthless. He had already admitted to his intentions of keeping his secret forever, and words could only do so much, anyway.

“Okay, tell me.”

Peter looked at MJ only to find her already watching him. “What?”

“Come on, Parker — the answer to the big question,” she said. “How’d it happen?”

Ah. The origin story.

“Right. Would you believe me if I said radioactive spider?”

“Peter,” she said.

He laughed a little despite himself. “MJ. Really.”

She blinked. “ Really ?”

He shrugged. “You remember that field trip to Oscorp?”

She frowned, thinking back. “In ... high school?”

“That’s the one.”

“Oh my god.”

Peter nodded. “They were doing some genetic experiments with spiders and one of them got loose. Far as I can tell, they all died in the end. After one bit me.”

MJ was staring at him, like she had been for most of this conversation. “So you were actually bitten by a radioactive spider.”

Peter couldn’t help his grin.

“There are no more mysteries.”

They walked in comfortable silence for a while, almost at the Daily Bugle now. But the longer the silence stretched, the more Peter’s anxieties managed to weasel their way back into his thoughts.

“So ...” Peter said as the building came into view. He felt MJ’s eyes turn back to him. “You’re not gonna ... tell anyone, are you?”

She sighed dramatically like he was being a huge inconvenience. “Fine. But you owe me, Parker. Big.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Like what?” When she started to grin, he said, “I am not giving you an interview.”

“Oh, come on!” she said, face falling. “Why not?”

“MJ.” When she opened her mouth, he added, “And not with any other superhero, either.”

She crossed her arms. “ Fine . Alright ... then you owe me a girlfriend.”

Peter shot her a disbelieving look. “A girlfriend?”

MJ suddenly grabbed his arm and hung onto him as they came to a stop in front of the Daily Bugle building. Her voice was pleading. “Come on, Peter, please. I need a date so bad.”

“I know way more straight guys than girls who like girls,” Peter pointed out with disinterest. This task wasn’t very appealing. He was busy enough as it was.

“Peter, all your friends are gay.” He just shrugged at that. “I’m sick of guys right now, alright? My last few dates were awful. I need a girlfriend.” She jabbed a finger at him, changing tactics. “You’ve been lying to me for years, the least you can do is compensate me for my emotional torment.” When Peter still hesitated, she started, “I mean, unless you—”

“I am not setting you up with Johnny Storm.”

MJ raised an eyebrow and just stared him down until he finally caved. “Fine, fine, I’ll get you a date.”

She grinned. There was another quiet moment, this one worse than the last, because somehow Peter knew what was coming this time. The one thing neither of them had brought up.

“So ...” MJ started in a gentle tone that made Peter’s stomach drop. “About Harry ...”

“MJ, I can’t.”

“Can’t ... tell him—?”

“Can’t talk about it,” he blurted, desperate to end this conversation before it could begin. “Man, I can’t even think about it, he—” He cut himself off, taking a breath. His voice was much lower when he next spoke, soft and shaky, and his eyes didn’t meet hers. “You know how he feels about Spider-Man. I can’t, MJ. I just can’t.”

Her voice was just as quiet. “You know you can’t keep it up forever.”

“I’ve been managing.”

“Peter—”

“I know, okay? I know.”

He knew better than anyone. One day, Harry would find out who he was. All Peter could do was put it off for as long as possible. He would cling to the Harry he got to have as Peter Parker until his alter ego inevitably tore it all apart.

“I have to go.”

“Peter—”

“I’m fine, MJ,” he said, turning away. “You have any more questions, you can text me. I have to go.”

He hurried away into the building, leaving her questioning eyes behind.

Yeah. The Harry Problem. That was something Peter really didn’t want to talk about.

It was less a problem than it was an unrelenting, long-term anxiety buried in all his much more pressing, current anxieties. Problems had solutions. This was nothing but pointless gnawing guilt and occasional bouts of burning self-hatred. Maybe Peter should have told Harry years ago. Hell, he could have told him when that spider first bit him back in high school. But he had made a decision, a decision that protected his friends and family, kept those he loved safe, and he couldn’t regret that.

It had been over a year now since Norman Osborn died, and Peter lived in constant fear that Harry might find out that the man he blamed for his father’s death was, in fact, his own best friend.

Of course, Peter had felt guilty long before the final battle with the Green Goblin that orphaned Harry Osborn — ever since he found out who the Green Goblin really was. And he had plenty to be guilty about over how he handled it. He hadn’t been there when Harry finally found out about his father, too busy saving civilians from the man himself. And too busy trying to crush his plots afterwards to be there for Harry as a friend. He thought it would be enough to help Norman, to do what he could to keep him from spiralling further into his madness and stop him from hurting anyone else, but, really, he knew he had let Harry down when he needed him most.

He was there in the aftermath, in Harry’s grief. But it always felt too little too late. And there or not, Peter didn’t know how much help he was in those months, guilt-ridden as he was. When all he could think about was the anger with which Harry had spat the word Spider-Man as he told Peter and MJ that it was his fault his father died.

Peter knew the weight of lies; he had grown comfortable with it, familiar, after all these years. Lying to your friends could become second nature, given enough practice. But after hearing that, the weight was different. Heavier. And painful.

Having taken over the position of CEO of his father’s company following his death, Harry now often found himself around dangerous situations — criminals loved targeting the rich and powerful, and plenty had old grievances with the Goblin — so he had since come across Spider-Man a few times. Peter had tried hard to avoid him in the months after, but eventually it just wasn’t possible anymore.

He couldn’t say how Harry had reacted. Give him a supervillain, fine — Peter could handle it. But looking into the eyes of someone he loved and seeing nothing but cold, bottomless hate staring back ... there was nothing that scared him more. And he knew that was what was waiting for him if he ever dared to meet Harry’s eyes with that mask on. So he didn’t. And this fear, it followed him into his daily life, that endless paranoia that somehow, someday, Harry would find out, he would know, and Peter would lose him forever. He couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t.

And there was nothing to be done about it, not really. The best he could hope for was to keep his secret until his last breath. And avoid any Spidey encounters with Harry Osborn. Hopefully his new quest for an MJ-compatible girlfriend would prove to be a good distraction from this dredging up of his fears. So Peter was decidedly focusing on this when he next met up with Harry in the tiny slot their busy schedules allowed.

It was a perfectly ordinary and enjoyable hangout with perfectly ordinary and enjoyable conversation — and yet Peter’s concentration was found wanting, and when Harry was called away after only twenty minutes, Peter was actually relieved. Harry apologised as he packed up his things, oblivious in his hurry.

“I swear, I really thought I would have time today—”

“Harry, really, it’s okay,” Peter insisted with a smile. “Look, buy me pizza next time and we’ll call it even, yeah?”

Harry grinned as he stood up. “Sounds fair. I’ll text you.”

“You got it.”

Over the next few weeks, Peter often found himself conveniently busy whenever Harry had time to meet.

As for MJ — well. The weeks after outing himself as a superhero were ... weird. Peter snuck back in through the window in the dead of night and found himself face-to-face with MJ in the dark kitchen, one foot inside the apartment. They stared at each other for a full minute before she chugged her glass of water and disappeared down the dark hallway silently. The next day, MJ tugged down his sleeve to better cover the Spidey suit underneath before parting ways for their respective lectures after lunch. She hovered over him as he scrolled through his contacts until he threatened to choose the interview instead. She didn’t mind him using the living room or their shared bathroom to bandage up his cuts and bruises, and one day when Peter was dozing on the couch still in his suit and she came back home with Harry, she even banged on the door before coming in, giving him enough time to startle awake and stumble into his bedroom before they got inside.

He woke up from a nap two weeks after the alleyway to MJ calling to check he was alright, saying she’d seen his fight on the news. He didn’t want her to worry, but it warmed him to know that she cared. He appreciated having someone understand, and he liked not needing to be so careful. In all his years of being Spider-Man, this was the first time he didn’t have to sneak around.

And, after a while, the fact that her roommate was Spider-Man finally began to seem like something MJ accepted. You could get used to anything, especially if it crawled in through your window half beaten most nights and slept on your couch half the afternoon. Besides, MJ had her own life, one too busy to let her waste time being hung up on this.

So, other than occasional questions shot at him at the most unexpected of times like the pop quiz from hell, not to mention his phone lighting up every five seconds as he tried to pay attention to his lectures, things largely went back to normal with Peter and MJ. They settled into a routine, now new and improved with adjustments to account for Peter’s extracurricular activities. MJ was happy to cover for him, but liked lying to their friends about as much as he did, so he was mostly left to his own devices as he was before. Still, it was easier. Just one friend made it so much easier. Johnny was amazing, but it was different, someone in his everyday life having his back. One less person to lie to.

All Peter needed was to find a girlfriend. He was honestly starting to consider putting up ads.

“Come on, Betty, you could at least meet her,” Peter whined half-heartedly.

“Peter, for the last time, I am not ending my five month relationship so you can settle your debt with your friend,” she said with disinterest, not even looking at him draped over her desk.

“Not even if I say pretty please?”

“Get out.”

But still, it helped to have a task to focus on. Peter had no trouble keeping busy usually, but the reminder of The Harry Problem that MJ’s discovery had dredged up had anxiety buzzing under his skin whenever he thought of him, and it was good to have something extra to occupy him.

It was a few weeks later when it happened. Peter was fiddling with a bandage MJ had applied to a wound on his arm for him, one that was now already mostly healed, staring at his phone screen as he mentally composed his newest excuse to cancel plans with Harry.

Maybe it was punishment for trying to avoid the situation. Just a big joke from the universe to laugh at his suffering. Or maybe all his thinking about it just manifested like some kind of anti-Parker karma turning his fears into reality. Whatever it was, he ended the day wishing he’d spent it in bed. Or in a dumpster.

It was Doc Ock, of all things, wreaking havoc as usual. Peter should have known better than to test his luck by going to Oscorp, but he was lying to himself if he thought there was any version of events where he left Doc Ock to whatever business he had there. The second Peter got the alert, he was on his way.

By the time he arrived, Doc Ock had already climbed halfway up the building. Peter had hoped to chase him away quickly, avoid getting anyone else hurt — and avoid a certain someone entirely — but Doc Ock was insistent. They crashed into the top floor to the sound of smashing glass and screams.

“Doctor Octavius,” Harry said calmly once most of the room’s occupants had scattered, standing with his hands in his pockets at the door to his office. “If you wanted to see me, you could have made an appointment.”

“Get — out of here!” Peter gasped, pulling at the metal arm around his neck.

“Whatever business you had with my father has nothing to do with me,” Harry said, ignoring Spider-Man.

“On the contrary,” Doc Ock said. “You run his company. You have his technology.” He punctuated this point by smashing a drone that had come up behind him in one of his claws. “You are Norman Osborn’s legacy.”

Peter had guessed that that was what this was about, some sort of revenge that Doc Ock was taking out on Norman’s son since the man himself wasn’t around anymore to have a grudge match with. Most of the Green Goblin’s old enemies had shown interest in taking their grievances out on Harry over the past year and had been dealt with by Peter or by Harry himself through his impressive security systems. But Doc Ock really wasn’t making a huge effort. Harry was standing right there, and neither seemed particularly concerned.

“I may have inherited his company, but the Green Goblin is gone. Your fight is with a dead man.”

Another drone crushed. Doc Ock took a step forward.

In the next moment, Peter had broken free of his grip and was smashing a fist into Doc Ock’s face. He went careening back, catching himself with his metal arms to keep from falling right out of the building.

Doc Ock pulled himself back into the building and launched himself toward Peter, but Peter dodged quickly out of the way. He picked up a large table and when Doc Ock came at him again, Peter slammed it into him.

The metal table leg crunched unpleasantly in the mechanism of Doc Ock’s metal arm. Doc Ock made a sound of annoyance as it sparked and whirred, and Peter allowed himself a moment of relief at the thought that repairs might keep Doc Ock occupied for a while. And then Doc Ock was retreating, and Peter made to go after him, but Doc Ock had pried the table free and hurled it back at Peter.

By the time Peter had gotten himself out from under the table pinning him to the wall, Doc Ock had scurried out of the building and was long gone. He wasn’t so sure what use going after him would have been. None of this felt right. Doc Ock had barely tried, and had given up so easily.

As Peter brushed himself off, he noticed Harry taking out a tablet and tapping something on the screen. Something shimmered around the walls of his office and the open doorway in front of him, and he finally stepped out. It occurred to Peter that maybe Harry hadn’t been afraid because he had no reason to be afraid. Of course he would have his own protective measures by now. Peter wondered briefly what Harry would have sent out instead of the drones if Spider-Man hadn’t been there already.

And then, there in the aftermath of this confusing fight, Peter realised that Harry Osborn was now standing face to face with Spider-Man.

“I would show you the way out, but given that you’ve ripped a hole in the side of my building, I believe you can manage that on your own.”

His voice was so unfamiliar, factual and toneless. The way he was looking at Peter was exactly the look he had been dreading having turned on him, and it tore him to pieces.

It looked so wrong on Harry, too cold. Harry could do cold well, yes, but never with this kind of — hatred to it. Stark resentment. It was far too Norman. Peter’s body felt like ice.

“Please leave my building before I lose my patience,” Harry said when Peter still hadn’t moved.

He had never been more glad for his mask in his life. He didn’t want to imagine what his face looked like right now. Instead of thinking about it, he mentally shook himself and began, “Mr. Osborn—”

“ Don’t call me that ,” Harry snarled immediately.

“Harry—” Peter tried, but he hardly managed to get the word out.

“Or that.” Harry’s voice was full of venom. He wasn’t so icy anymore, thawed by too much emotion, the kind that only made Peter feel worse under his stare. “Or anything. Just leave.”

“Don’t you get it?” Peter said almost desperately. “Your life is in danger—”

“Which just so happens to mean that all this is none of your concern,” Harry said smoothly. “Go bother some other citizen, Spider-Man. Your services are neither required nor wanted here. Now, do I need to call security?”

Peter only gave himself a few moments to look back at that hate-filled face and wallow in his own self-loathing. Not trusting his voice to stay even, he backed up toward the gaping hole of the window in silence and dived out of the building, leaving behind Harry’s awful eyes.

Peter couldn’t see Harry after that.

Usually, when being Spider-Man got too painful, he would retreat into the safety of Peter Parker, but the way Harry had looked at him haunted Peter so much he wasn’t sure how to face him. Maybe seeing him again would have comforted him that Harry and Peter were still okay, that he was still his best friend, but the confirmation of Harry’s resentment toward Spider-Man, seeing the truth of it on his face, only made the thought of sitting across from him knowing what he was hiding that much worse. It felt like any second the truth could come out, and then there would be no version of himself that Harry loved.

Luckily, Harry had suddenly gotten even busier. At first, Peter attributed this to the cleanup of his building, but it turned out that wasn’t the whole story.

The next time Peter ran into one of Doc Ock’s traps, Doc Ock was nowhere to be found. He broke free of the octobots easier than expected. They didn’t seem to be working properly, and he was surprised when they all sped away before he had a chance to start punching.

Those machines were usually operated at close range, but based on how fast they ran off, with Doc Ock nowhere in sight, Peter guessed they were headed back to wherever he was hiding. And it wasn’t nearby.

The attack at Oscorp started to make more sense. If Doc Ock hadn’t really been there for Harry, it would explain his behaviour. Nothing but a distraction. He knew Spider-Man would show; he’d have to keep him busy. Who knew what kind of tech Doc Ock might have wanted from Oscorp? And it had been days since then. He was sure to have repaired his arm by now, and apparently he was already testing some upgrades. Peter needed to figure out what he had taken and fast if he was going to stop him.

And that meant going back to Oscorp.

Peter had broken into Oscorp enough times in the days of the Green Goblin that he knew its security systems well.

That wasn’t to say that he knew how to get around them, rather that he was familiar with their unpredictability and creativity. But Norman wasn’t around anymore, and it was hard to guess what changes Harry might have made. Peter just wanted to get in, get the information he needed, and get out as fast as possible, and hopefully Harry would never even find out Spider-Man had been there.

He should have known better than to hope by now.

His familiarity with the building meant he knew where to look to see what was missing. He snuck inside without any trouble and found the right room, creeping across the ceiling to a computer. The second he attached a web to the ceiling panel, though, meaning to lower himself down to the keyboard, he was scooped up and bundled into some kind of net.

And alarm rang in his ears as he struggled to right himself. When his squirming span the net around to face the doorway, Harry was standing there with his arms over his chest.

Peter … was an idiot.

“Oh. Hello.”

“What are you doing on my ceiling.”

“Um … just hanging … around.”

The look Harry gave him could have turned him to stone.

“Look, Doc Ock wasn’t here for you the other day,” Peter began, trying to crush the overwhelming feelings in his chest. “He wanted some tech, and I just need to—”

“I am well aware of what Octavius was doing, and my people are working on it. Once again I feel I must remind you that this is none of your fucking business.”

Peter swallowed, wishing he could shrink into nothing under the darkness of Harry’s eyes. “The Doc’s business kind of is my business—”

“You cannot just break into my company whenever you like and look at our private information,” Harry interrupted with obvious impatience. “You know how many Spider-Man traps there are in this building?” he added.

Peter had lost count. He’d been caught more than once, destroyed more than a dozen, in the past. He hadn’t really been expecting to find any now.

“However I feel about you personally, I know you’re not a thief. I almost didn’t bother to keep them. Guess it really does pay to be careful, huh?”

Peter pushed at the net; it was clearly old, no upkeep since Norman’s death, he guessed. “I have to say, this … isn’t as bad as I would have expected.”

“We took out anything deadly. You’re welcome,” Harry said flatly. That explained it, Peter thought. Normally, this would probably have been accompanied by lethal gas or something. Then Harry said, “Now give me one good reason why I shouldn’t turn you over to the police for breaking and entering.”

“Uhh …” Peter said awkwardly. Harry had had his tablet in his hand since he came in, and Peter couldn’t help but wonder if he had already alerted the police and was just killing time until they got there. “Because …” The net was clearly built to be Spider-proof, strong enough that Peter’s strength wouldn’t get him out. But he had made upgrades in the last year. “The Goblin’s traps were never very good.”

A small jolt was all that was needed for the ceiling panel to release the net, and it unravelled quickly, allowing Peter to roll to the floor.

Breaking another window wouldn’t get him back into Harry’s good graces, but Peter doubted it could really make it worse, and with Harry still standing in the doorway it seemed like his best chance at getting out of there fast. He didn’t look back as he swung away.

After that, Peter was extra understanding of Harry’s busy schedule. He reasoned that, given the mess in his company, Harry really must have been having a hard time, and Peter was happy enough to encourage him to take a night off to rest instead of entertaining Peter.

In the meantime, he doubled down on his efforts with the Doc Ock situation. Since his first plan hadn’t worked out, instead of trying to figure out Doc Ock’s tech, Peter went straight for the source. He started to feel pretty useless at his job when the next time he found Doc Ock turned out to be when the supervillain decided to attack Harry once again.

Peter considered the possibility that the universe was playing some cosmic joke on him as he swung there after getting the news. It was a different branch of Oscorp this time, rather than the main building. The alarm had sent the majority of those who hadn’t already fled from the commotion scattering, and they were gathered outside, already signalling for help. But there were still some stragglers left inside who slowed Peter as he sent them out before he found Doc Ock.

He was chasing a security team escorting none other than Harry himself through the corridors of the building, trying to find a safe way out. He no doubt had his protections in the main Oscorp building, but he must have been less on guard since realising Doc Ock wasn’t after him. Not wasting any time, Peter swung in between them in an intersection of corridors, bringing Doc Ock to a halt.

“Spider-Man,” he snarled.

“Did you miss me? I sure haven’t seen much of you lately.”

Peter didn’t get to say anything more as his spider-sense went off and he quickly dove out of the way. A drone smashed into Doc Ock, who staggered back, stunned. Peter looked back to see Harry, tablet in hand, glaring at him.

“I told you to stay out of this,” Harry growled. He turned to continue down the corridor, two of his security guards holding him up like he needed help staying on his feet. They disappeared into a room off the side.

Peter tried to slow Doc Ock, but a moment later he was flung through the doors after them, the Doc following close behind. The surrounding doorway cracked as he smashed through it. “There you are,” Doc Ock said, and reached out a metal arm. The security guards grabbed for Harry, some of them pulling out guns, but another arm batted them away as the first clutched Harry around his middle and lifted him up into the air. Then he backed toward the door as though leaving.

Dizzy from the fall, Peter shot a web from where he was still laying, relieved when it hit Doc Ock square in the face. He pushed himself to his feet and tried again, and this time he pinned the arm holding Harry to the wall. Dodging the other blindly flailing arms, he swung over to Harry and peeled him out of the metal’s grip. Harry dropped to the floor with a groan.

Doc Ock was getting impatient. Having torn the web from his face, he wrenched his arm free and started toward them with renewed malice. As he brought an arm down, Peter wrapped his arm around Harry and shot out a web to yank them out of the way.

Across the room, Harry’s security team were still trying to make their way to him, but Doc Ock was in the way. Peter looked around. There were a few doors leading off from the room. One behind the security team. One not far from Peter and Harry. And the crumbling doorway they had come through, the damage sending cracks through the ceiling.

“Watch out!” Peter yelled at the security team, and they stopped behind Doc Ock. As Peter aimed at the ceiling, they looked between themselves and backed up hurriedly, running for the door behind them.

“What the hell are you doing—” Harry shouted, right before Peter pulled down the ceiling.

It smashed into Doc Ock as it came apart, and he went crashing down like a giant, debris spraying around him. In the background Peter saw the door close behind the last of the security guards.

And then the rest of the ceiling started to come down.

“Oh, boy.”

Gripping Harry tighter — who was too busy coughing from the clouds of dust around them to really protest — he shot a final web for the door closest to them and swung them into it just in time to go crashing inside before the room fell apart.

The place crumbled down until, finally, silence. Harry groaned loudly as he sat up, backing up from the rubble in the doorway to get some air. Peter got shakily to his feet to examine himself for injuries. He noted some cuts and bruises … and a gash in his side. He pressed a gloved hand to it gingerly. It wasn’t bleeding too badly, but things wouldn’t go so well if he couldn’t get it treated soon.

“We’re in. A closet.”

Peter looked up. Harry was leaning against the far wall, looking extremely displeased. His suit was most definitely ruined and both his hair and face were grey with dust and debris. He looked exhausted, and there was a feverishness to him like he was in pain. His eyes flicked to Peter.

“You trapped us in a fucking closet.”

Peter swallowed and tore his eyes away from Harry to look around.

The doorway had come down so completely that there was no chance Doc Ock would be digging them out in his state. The room they were in was still lit, apparently recently in use — but it was, in fact, a storage closet. Most of the contents had been destroyed in the chaos, laying smashed on the floor, one of the shelves toppled over between Harry and where Peter stood awkwardly.

He cleared his throat and carefully sat himself down on an empty patch of floor.

“Sorry.”

Harry was still glaring at him.

“What part of ‘none of your fucking business’ did you not understand?”

“I’m Spider-Man. I wasn’t just going to leave it alone.”

Harry shook his head, mouth twisted. “Yeah, you never can, can you?”

Peter couldn’t look away from that awful expression. He felt like something was squeezing his chest tight. It hurt to breathe.

“Listen—”

“No.”

The look in Harry’s eyes made him shut up instantly.

“No, I’m not going to sit here and listen to your bullshit, okay? I’ll be much happier waiting in silence until we get the fuck out of here. However long that takes.”

It took several minutes of oppressive quiet for Peter to get his voice back enough to try again.

“We need to talk about this,” he said. He forced himself to keep going when Harry turned his glare on him once again. “You can’t stop Doc Ock by yourself — you know that.”

“Because you know everything, huh?”

“There’s no telling what he’ll do with this tech! He’s already had some success at making his octobots work long range. If he can figure that out—”

“But he won’t, so it doesn’t matter. He’s hit a wall.”

Peter frowned. “He has?”

Harry looked at him like he was stupid. It was almost a relief. Certainly a look more familiar to Peter, though it usually wasn’t so cold.

“I thought that was obvious. Otherwise why would he have come after me — and by himself, too?” Harry shook his head and leaned back into the wall. “The tech he took, it was my design. Clearly, there’s something he’s so stuck on that he needed me.”

Truthfully, Peter had been too preoccupied with Harry being in danger to even think about it. He was nowhere close to his best with Harry involved.

“Then … why didn’t you have proper security?” Peter asked.

“You just saw my security. Brought a building down on them.”

“Doc Ock security,” Peter forced out. “You have the tech for it, but today you came here—”

“There was no way for him to know it was mine,” Harry interrupted with irritation. “Since he only came after me as a distraction, it seemed like he didn’t. But he must have recognised my work.” His head tilted away from Peter and he stared at nothing on the wall. His voice turned quieter. Dull. “I did some work with him sometimes when I was younger. Because he and my father were close.”

The air felt so still that Peter didn’t want to breathe. Long moments passed until he dared to open his mouth.

His voice came out strained. “About Norman—”

“Shut up,” Harry said, not looking at him. It wasn’t angry, or cold. It was just tired. “Just shut up. You think I want to sit here trapped in this little room talking about that with you? Forget it.” He closed his eyes. His breaths came slow. “It was the anniversary of his death last month. I went into work. All day, not a single person said his name. You’re the first I’ve heard it from in so long … besides fucking Octavius.”

His words hung between them, Harry just slumped against the wall.

Another few torturous minutes later, Peter drew in a deep breath.

“Then let’s talk about something else.” When Harry started on a weak wry laugh, Peter continued, “We’re probably going to be in here for a while. That’s a lot of rubble, and they have to track us down first.”

“My security team saw where we went.”

“Still, it’s a lot of time to kill.”

Harry eyed him. “So, what are we gonna do? Paint our nails, braid each other’s hair?”

Peter shrugged, looking pointedly at Harry’s ruined suit pants. “You seem hurt. Is it your leg?”

Harry looked away tiredly. He really did look feverish.

“There’s nothing here to treat it anyway.”

Peter glanced over the floor. Judging by all the smashed glass and hopefully not too dangerous liquids spread everywhere, this was storage for some lab. Nothing in here would be helpful.

“You should worry about yourself,” Harry said, and Peter looked back to see he was considering the gash Peter still had his hand pressed to. His eyes flicked over him. “You’re not gonna die, are you?” he asked halfheartedly.

“Nah, I’m still safe for another hour, at least,” Peter said, applying a little more pressure and biting down on a wince. “I won’t bleed out, but after that there’s a good chance it’ll get infected or something.”

Harry raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“That is not how normal people think.”

Peter shrugged. “You kind of learn these things when you’re the city’s number one menace.”

Harry looked at him like he wanted to say something, but then thought better of it. Peter didn’t push. He tended not to enjoy comments on how he handled his health, anyway.

“I still think we should try to keep you awake,” Peter said. “You might have gotten a concussion or something.”

Harry rolled his eyes at that. “I must have a concussion if I’m still talking to you.”

“Why don’t you tell me what Doc Ock took?”

“Yeah, right.”

“Why not? What’s the point in not letting me help?”

“I don’t want your help.”

“But it’s not about you,” Peter pleaded. “If he gets it to work, he’ll hurt a lot of people. Who knows how many with all those octobots. There’s no good in us not being … allies.”

“Allies?” Harry laughed. “With you?”

Peter was glad Harry couldn’t see how pained his expression was. It was hard to keep his voice level. He breathed in deep, steadying.

“I never meant for … that.”

Harry was back to glaring at him. There was less hate to it now, but this new intensity was equally difficult to bear.

“I told you I’m not going to talk about this.”

“But we need to work together.” Peter knew he sounded like he was begging, but he couldn’t help it with Harry acting like this with him. It hurt too much, and every word felt like a beg to be forgiven.

“Yeah,” Harry murmured noncommittally. Peter realised his eyes were a little unfocused. Maybe his exhaustion was the only thing taking the hate out of him.

There was another long silence before, finally:

“It was a device that can strengthen connections, increase the range. But he has the tech. We can’t stop him from completing his work.” He slanted a look at Peter. “Unless you catch him first, but you seem to have a lot of trouble keeping your enemies locked away.”

Peter wasn’t sure if that was a joke about the other villains or a stab about the Green Goblin’s death being the only thing to keep him down, but he let it slide as Harry went on.

“I’ve been toying with the possibility of disrupting his connection. It’ll be easier to do when he’s controlling those creepy little machines long distance. But that tech was still experimental — unfinished. None of that will work without finding out what adjustments he makes to complete it.”

Peter considered, nodding slowly.

“I can do that.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “You think so?” His voice was unenthusiastic.

“They don’t call me a menace for nothing,” he shrugged.

Harry leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes again. “Then maybe you have your uses.”

Then he cracked one open to give Peter a quick glance.

“If you don’t bleed out.”

Peter left quickly once they were pulled out of the wreckage. They hadn’t been trapped for much longer, but Peter really did need to treat his wounds, and Harry was in good hands. Besides, hanging around in the aftermath of a scene was never advised.

Johnny was not pleased to see him.

“If you need help with something, you can always ask.”

Peter sighed. “I don’t. I’m handling Doc Ock. I just need a good pair of hands to stitch me up.”

Johnny shook his head, putting the needle through his skin without warning. Peter gritted his teeth. “You really shouldn’t have left this so long.”

“I was a little stuck.”

“At Oscorp.”

“One of their buildings, yeah.”

“So this wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with Harry?”

“He might have been there.”

Johnny flicked his eyes up to Peter’s face, pausing. “Peter, the only reason you’re here is because your hands are shaking too hard to work a needle.”

Peter curled his fingers into fists in his lap.

“Well, Doc Ock is very scary.”

Johnny didn’t care to even acknowledge that. “I take it he’s okay?” he said instead, continuing the stitches. “The news didn’t say much.”

“Yeah. He’s fine.”

“And you talked to him.”

“… Yeah.”

“I take it that wasn’t so okay.”

Peter looked at Johnny’s hands.

“He didn’t try to kill me.”

“Not too bad, then.”

“That’s your bar for conversations? Scratch that — I’ve met you.”

“I’d like to take this moment to remind you that I’m in the middle of knitting your skin back together.”

Peter sighed, looking away. After a long silence, he whispered, “I don’t want to talk about Harry.”

Johnny’s voice was soft as he finished Peter’s stitches. “Which is exactly why you need to.”

Peter closed his eyes.

“There’s nothing to say. He hates me.”

“I need to ask a favour.”

Peter was surprised when Harry called. For one thing, Peter should have called him himself — most friends would want to check on him after the news about Oscorp. But this day had been so long it felt like it had lasted a week, and it was barely even the afternoon. And with that emotional rollercoaster of a morning, he didn’t feel prepared to speak to Harry. Peter had finally crawled into bed, exhausted, meaning to send Harry a text before taking a nap when his phone had rung.

“Anything, Har,” he answered automatically, voice suspiciously gravelly.

“You still take Spider-Man’s pictures, right?”

Peter tensed immediately.

So far, his job at the Bugle hadn’t caused any friction between him and Harry, though Peter did avoid talking about it around him. Harry knew Peter struggled with money, and he also knew he could never really understand as someone who had always had it. He hadn’t expressed any disapproval at Peter continuing as Spider-Man’s photographer after everything, but Peter knew that Harry knew he didn’t have the right to.

“That’s right,” Peter said a little too tightly.

“I was wondering if you could get into contact with him for me.”

Peter’s heart stopped.

“You … want to talk to him?”

“I have some business with him,” Harry said. Then he sighed. “I really hate to call you up like this and just ask for a favour when we’ve barely hung out lately.”

“No, no,” Peter said quickly. “You know I’m always happy to help.”

Peter could hear Harry’s smile as he answered. “Thank you, Pete, really.” He sighed again. “Thing is, the reason I’ve been so busy lately is because of this one problem that I think I’m gonna need his help to fix. But he’s not exactly easy to find. Do you think you can talk to him?”

“I mean, I don’t have the guy’s number or anything, but I can usually find him. You know, I … have to.”

“Great,” Harry said. His voice still had a kind of business tone to it, like keeping this professional was the only way he could do it. “You think you could get him to agree a meeting instead of breaking into my building?”

Peter suppressed a wince, forcing cheer into his words. “No problem! What should I tell him?”

“Let’s say … the roof of Oscorp. I can spare some time tomorrow afternoon if you can find him before then.”

“Got it,” Peter said. “I’ll try my best.”

“Thanks, Pete. Love ya.”

“You, too,” Peter breathed, and hung up.

After his couple of morning classes the next day, Peter texted Harry that he’d talked to Spider-Man before heading for Oscorp. He stared at Harry’s you’re the best <3 response for about half the time it took him to swing there, a crease permanently formed between his eyebrows. Something about involving Peter Parker in Spider-Man business felt dangerous. Like he was just pushing his luck, like any minute Harry might see through the mask and realise the truth. The mixture of fear and hope in his gut was confusing. And nauseating.

He steeled himself and landed on the rooftop.

Harry was waiting, hands in his suit pockets. He looked better now. Steady on his feet again. He watched Peter for a moment, considering.

“You wanted to work together?”

Peter nodded, not daring to speak.

Harry nodded, too. “Alright,” he said, and then turned to go. “Come with me.”

In his office, Harry showed Peter his design for the device Doc Ock had taken the tech for. He was surprised that Peter understood it so easily, then amazed when Peter said he manufactured his webs himself, and then he was visibly tamping down his scientific curiosity and noted that Spider-Man being a scientist made this whole ordeal a lot easier. Peter explained what he knew about the octobots — he’d had occasion to take them apart more than once — and, based on this, they started to speculate how Doc Ock might work Harry’s tech to suit them.

It was tense and awkward, but Peter had already known they worked well together. The flow of discussion made it easier to stand the ice in Harry’s eyes.

It was almost evening when they both went quiet and finally agreed there was nothing more to do without more information.

“I was pretty out of it yesterday,” Harry said, “but I remember you told me you can find out what adjustments he makes.”

“I’m sure I’ll be the first to hear about it when he gets his upgrades working,” Peter explained. “When he comes after me, I’ll get one of his bots for us to crack open, and we can work from there.”

Harry frowned. “I don’t like how much sitting and waiting your plan involves.”

“It might not be as long as you think,” Peter said grimly. Harry nodded at this. He knew how brilliant a scientist Doc Ock had been. “In the meantime …” Peter started hesitantly. “You need to up your security. If he thinks it’d be easier to kidnap you than do it himself—”

“I’m handling it,” Harry snapped. “I’m not an idiot.”

“Right,” Peter murmured awkwardly. He really hoped Harry meant it. Harry wasn’t an idiot, but Peter knew well that he had a habit of not being so careful when it came to his own safety. Peter didn’t like worrying about him getting hurt … much as the past year had gotten him used to the thought.

The office was dark. They hadn’t turned on the lights, and he realised suddenly that the sun was getting low outside the window.

“Shit, it’s late,” he said. “Didn’t you have other appointments?”

“I cleared my schedule for the rest of the day. I’m giving this full priority.” Harry was already on his tablet again, apparently busy with something new. “I won’t have my tech used to hurt anyone.”

“Of course,” Peter nodded, unsurprised. When Harry glanced up, he almost expected him to question his comment, but Harry had been professional and impersonal all day, and it seemed they wouldn’t be going anywhere near more difficult topics. He looked back down at his tablet.

“When you get one, bring it here. Without breaking and entering. Knock on a window or something. Someone will come get me and I can meet you on the rooftop.”

Peter opened and closed his mouth, and finally settled on, “Okay.”

“Pleasure working with you.”

Harry’s eyes stayed glued to the tablet until Peter left his office.

“Where’s my girlfriend?”

Peter blinked at MJ dumbly. She was standing by the couch where he’d passed out, sipping coffee from a large mug. Her expression was decidedly unhappy.

“Parker, you promised me a date. It’s been weeks. Where is she.”

“Uhhh …”

“Have you even been looking?”

“Of course I have!” he protested, sitting up and running hands through his hair. “I told you I didn’t know anyone.”

“I don’t care. You owe me a girlfriend.”

“I’ve been busy, okay?” he said.

“With what?” MJ challenged.

Peter paused at this. He hadn’t mentioned this business with Harry to her. Besides answering her questions after she found out about his nighttime activities, he hadn’t told her much at all about his Spider-Man side gig, actually. But this in particular was not something he wanted to discuss. More than Johnny, she would press him about it. She knew Harry, understood what his being Spider-Man meant — had witnessed Harry’s grief and anger first hand. And Peter did not want to talk about it.

“You know. Spidey business. Classes. Social life …?”

“I’m your social life, Peter.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” When she kept glaring at him, Peter sighed. “I’m looking, I’m looking. I swear.”

“You’d better be.”

MJ disappeared into the kitchen. A moment later, she came back with another mug of coffee. She left it wordlessly on the coffee table and went to her room without waiting for his murmured thank you.

He stared into his coffee with another sigh.

His girlfriend search was making as little progress as the Doc Ock situation. Both were at a standstill, and it had been days since he saw Harry at Oscorp. Or at all, for that matter.

Doc Ock did make another attempt to get at him the day after, but Harry really had upped his security — he had already run off by the time Peter got there, and he didn’t see the point in showing his face. (Harry may have been tolerating Spider-Man, but an out of sight, out of mind approach seemed most prudent.) Doc Ock hadn’t tried again, and Peter had a bad feeling that it had less to do with being scared off than a breakthrough in his little project. It was only a matter of time now. Frankly, Peter suspected the repairs from his attacks and little field tests were the bigger setbacks.

So it came as no surprise that barely an hour into his patrol that night, Peter ran smack into a wall of octobots.

“Aw, fiddlesticks.”

The fight was not much fun. There was no one to quip at with Doc Ock operating from a distance, and no great big smug face to punch. He smashed a few of them up, but there were too many to deal with on his own. Still, it worked out exactly the way he had hoped in the end; with a few carefully chosen swings, he managed to outrun them with an offline bot tucked under his arm, headed straight for Oscorp.

It only occurred to him when he arrived how late it was, but when he peeked into Harry’s office, the place was fully lit and Harry was sat at his desk over a tablet. He looked up when Peter tapped lightly on the window and immediately went for the door. On the rooftop, he just looked at the octobot and turned back to lead Peter inside in silence, and the two of them went to his office without a word. Peter couldn’t help feeling like he hadn’t done enough dreading in preparation for seeing Harry as Spider-Man again.

Peter put the bot on the table and Harry started to take it apart while Peter took a moment to catch his breath on the couch. He really was tired. He had been waiting for Doc Ock to make his move all week. The mix of exhaustion and bruises made it feel like his whole body was aching and heavy as lead.

Harry was so focused on his work that Peter might have actually drifted off for a second. He snapped awake when Harry said something he didn’t quite hear, and when Peter looked up, Harry was still looking at the wires. At the lack of response, he looked around the room for Spider-Man and seemed surprised to find him on the couch.

“Were you … sleeping?“ he asked with a furrowed brow.

Peter floundered for a second before blurting, “Your couch is comfy!”

Harry shook his head, turning back to the octobot. “Of course it is. Where do you think I nap?”

Peter frowned. “You sleep here?”

“Sometimes. I’m the CEO of a huge company, remember?”

Peter was quiet a few moments longer, carefully sitting up and then getting to his feet, and finally Harry looked up in impatience. He studied Peter with a strange look.

“What?” Peter said.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “We need to get this work done, and you look like you’re going to collapse.”

“I’m … fine,” Peter decided.

Harry looked close to rolling his eyes but seemed to be forcing the urge down, as if doing so would ruin his facade of professionalism. “Don’t you fight Doc Ock every other week?”

Peter shrugged. “Usually with Doc Ock it’s just roughhousing, you know — love taps,” he joked. “But every now and then he tries to kill me more … sincerely. And that’s when it hurts.”

“Maybe you need a hospital.”

Peter looked at him. “I don’t just go to hospitals.”

“Of course you don’t. How silly of me.”

Harry looked away immediately after the words came out, his jaw clenching as though this was equally a breach of the boundaries he had set for himself in his interactions with Spider-Man. Peter suddenly felt the urge to push, to do anything just to get past this feeling of both of them holding their breath every second they were around each other. But there was no safe place to start. Everything between them was tender, everything a trigger.

“Here,” Harry said, interrupting Peter’s train of thought. Peter went over to the table to take a look at what Harry was pointing to. He had to wait as Peter sat down slowly, suppressing a hiss of pain at the stab in his side, and finally Harry caved. He rolled his eyes dramatically, like holding it in had only made it worse. “Are you serious?”

Peter cleared his throat awkwardly. “It’s fine. Doesn’t even hurt.”

Harry scoffed. “God, you are so full of shit.”

Peter looked at him for a long moment, then finally just said, “Yeah.”

Harry’s eyes were burning into him again, and it took all his effort not to squirm in his seat.

“It’s just a few bruised ribs,” Peter mumbled, “I’ve had worse. They’ll heal soon enough.”

Harry’s head tilted a little at that. “‘Soon enough’?”

Peter shrugged. “I heal fast. It won’t be so bad in a few hours.”

Harry was eyeing him differently now, and Peter realised he was trying to fight his curiosity again.

After a moment, Peter made the decision for him. “So?” he prompted, gesturing to what Harry was holding, and they quickly got started.

Tired as he was, once he got the gears turning, it wasn’t so hard to get on with it. The next few hours turned out much the same as their last meeting, but with significantly more progress thanks to the octobot. Harry already had some ideas about a disrupter, so it was just figuring out how Doc Ock’s modifications and adjusting the device to counter them.

“What about that wound the other day?”

Peter looked up with surprise. There had been a lull in their work for a few minutes now, both of them running out of steam, but the question was out of place and completely unprompted, devoid of context.

Harry met his eyes with a begrudging sort of look, giving Peter the impression that he was regretting asking even as he spoke. “When you walled us in in that storage closet, you had a cut in your side. It was bleeding the whole time we were there. How fast do you heal, exactly?”

Peter pushed down the hope that was blooming at Harry’s apparent civility; Harry never could help his curiosity. Peter couldn’t afford to hope, or it would tear him apart.

“Not nearly fast enough,” Peter murmured. He looked back at the designs, but the words were starting to swim on the page. “My ribs feel better,” he offered. “That gash is pretty much gone. But if you stab me, I’ll bleed out like anyone else.”

Harry hummed. “Interesting …” He seemed deep in thought. “But don’t you get stabbed all the time? What do you do without a hospital if your increased healing doesn’t cover that?”

“I … figure it out,” Peter said. He shrugged. “Sometimes I have help.”

Harry eyed him. “People who know who you are.”

He wasn’t looking at his designs anymore. It seemed like he was just as tired as Peter by now, which would make sense if he had really been here working all day before they even started on this.

“Sort of,” Peter said. He didn’t like the direction this conversation was taking.

“What does ‘sort of’ mean?”

Peter shrugged again. “I— I don’t know, I mean, the Spider-Man gig’s pretty much a secret.”

“So people don’t know.”

“I … guess not.”

Harry was still watching him. Peter couldn’t break eye contact, even with his own eyes hidden behind the blank white of the mask.

“It’s not like my friends know, if that’s what you mean,” Peter added, needing to say something with those eyes so heavy on him.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous.”

“You’ve seen it. All the people who had problems with … Well, they’ve been coming after you all year, just because you’re his son. Doc Ock, the Lizard — that’s my world. As Spider-Man. Why would I involve them in that?”

Harry’s eyes flicked over him. He shrugged, raising an eyebrow. “Because they’re your friends?”

Peter could so easily imagine Harry saying something like this to him as Peter, and that thought made his heart pound in his chest, like Harry could see right through him. But he couldn’t know. He wouldn’t be talking to him like this if he did. What was going on in his head? What did he want?

“It’s because they’re my friends that I don’t tell them,” Peter insisted quietly. “They don’t deserve to be put through that because of my choices.” You don’t deserve that, Har. “They shouldn’t have to worry about me.” MJ shouldn’t have to. “I’m protecting them.”

The way Harry was looking at him looked like he disagreed, but he didn’t say anything. He seemed to be warring with himself every time he spoke to Spider-Man, questioning every move he made.

“We should finish for now.”

Peter showed up in the afternoon the next day, and Harry had some materials ready to start building. They had to relocate to a lab to do this properly. Seeing Harry working on his tech in a room like that reminded Peter so strongly of high school, and all their little prototypes, their failed experiments and the trouble they’d get into. It felt like a simpler time, but it had never really been simple, had it? He had known Harry longer than he’d had his powers, but somehow he felt like he’d been lying to him all his life.

He’d had breakfast with Harry that morning, and the comparisons were all confused in his head. Harry had been so smiley then; now he wore a blank expression and kept his eyes trained on his work. His voice was so relaxed over coffee; now all his words were flat and controlled when he even bothered to speak. It had seemed to put him in a better mood, though, his shoulders a little less stiff. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on Peter’s part.

An hour into their almost comfortable silence, an employee came in to inform Harry that Doc Ock’s bots had been seen attacking another company. Peter shot out of there without a word, and Harry didn’t protest. Once he had wrecked enough octobots for Doc Ock to give up, he swung back to Oscorp, finding Harry still in the lab where he’d left him. When Peter returned to his seat, he realised Harry was watching him.

“How’s it going?” Peter asked, nodding at the device Harry was working on.

“What are you doing here?” Harry said like he hadn’t heard him.

“I … came back to work?” Harry just frowned at him, so he added, “Doc Ock backed off. No one was hurt, luckily. But we’ll need to finish this quick.”

“Yes, and we’re making progress,” Harry agreed. “But you were exhausted yesterday.”

Peter shook his head. “He wasn’t after me this time so it wasn’t as bad.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at him. “Do you ever take a break?”

Peter hadn’t expected that. “Sure,” he said, shifting in his seat. He really was a bad liar for someone with such a big secret. “I just … don’t need one now.” That was true enough. Yes, he could really do with a shower and a nap, but this was more important. He sighed. “Doc Ock doesn’t go out of his way to hurt people — it’s not really his M.O. — but he doesn’t avoid it, either. He’ll do it if it helps him get what he wants. It’s only a matter of time before something he does ends bad.”

Harry was watching him even more intently. Peter didn’t like it. He couldn’t tell what he was thinking — Harry was never so guarded with Peter. But he knew how to be unreadable, and he had no trust for Spider-Man. Peter didn’t like knowing that Harry really could hide things from him. Which felt incredibly ironic. Finally, Harry shook his head and looked back at his device with something like frustration, eyes not quite focusing on it.

“What?” Peter asked warily.

Harry glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “Nothing,” he said. He poked at the tablet for a moment before admitting quietly, “You’re … more human than I would have liked.”

Peter didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t.

After that, their meetings got equally better and worse, which Peter supposed cancelled out. Harry was less cold, but his stares were more intense, and Peter had the feeling he was trying to puzzle Spider-Man out, leaving Peter itchy and tense. He asked more questions that made Peter want to run away. As much as he wanted to talk it out with Harry, to explain himself, it still made that familiar fear run down his spine. Every answer felt like a step closer to the truth that Peter was not ready to give him. The truth that he knew could still break them. But Harry was unyielding.

“Are you lonely?” Harry asked a few nights later. Their prototype was close to ready, although Doc Ock’s more frequent activities had been interrupting their work as Peter ran off each time and always returned a little bloodier. He had just gotten back from dropping a few people off at the hospital, and Harry’s eyes had been on him since he walked through the door, following his hands as he bandaged a cut on his arm.

Peter regretted meeting Harry’s gaze the moment he did it. He always regretted it, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

“Why would I be lonely?”

“Because no one in your life knows who you are.”

Peter would have expected that to sound accusatory — he was Spider-Man, the dangerous vigilante, the reason my father’s dead — but it didn’t. It wasn’t sad the way MJ’s question had been, but Harry was asking the same thing. Peter hated it just as much now as he did then.

He could tell him that wasn’t true; he had said some people knew. But that wasn’t really the point. “Spider-Man isn’t all I am,” he said instead.

Harry kept studying him, a slight frown permanently on his otherwise unreadable face. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? You’re two different people. Hiding part of yourself from the people you love is always isolating.”

That made something in Peter’s chest ache. Because he knew Harry, knew about the things he had hidden and the times he had tried to disappear into himself. He worried sometimes that there might be things Harry kept to himself still. That he didn’t always tell Peter when he was hurting.

But he supposed Harry was right. He’d kept his secret so long he didn’t know how not to. Lying was instinctive. And he knew he had to, he’d made his choice, but he could admit to himself that it hurt sometimes. Whether or not he had Johnny, even now that MJ knew, it didn’t change the fact that there was always this thing with everyone else. His friends, Harry, Aunt May. This part of him that was … separate. He couldn’t ever say that to Johnny or MJ. What good would it do? Everyone wants their loved ones to be happy. They couldn’t fix this, so why burden them with knowing?

Only Harry wasn’t asking Peter. He was asking Spider-Man. If he was going to admit it, now made the most sense.

“Yeah,” he said, meeting Harry’s eyes through his mask. “I’m lonely sometimes.”

At his answer, something seemed to change. Harry accepted it with a nod, satisfied, and he sat in front of the prototype again. He didn’t look at it, though. After a moment, he turned back to Peter.

“Me, too.”

“… You are?”

“Yeah, well …” Harry sighed, leaning back. It had been a long night, and he was suddenly the most relaxed he had ever been around Spider-Man. “Don’t get me wrong, I have the best friends in the world,” Harry said, “but … adulting is hard!” He looked at Peter with a drastically different expression to match the abrupt tone shift. “You know I’m barely in my twenties? I run a fucking company. It only just became legal for me to drink.”

Peter blinked at him. He’d kind of lost track of the point. “Um. So you’re saying … you’re young for a CEO …?”

“I just mean that … all of a sudden, I never have any time to see my friends. I’ve got all this, they have their own jobs, college, life, and we’re all struggling to make our schedules work when we used to show up at each other’s apartments uninvited whenever.” He sank further into his chair. Peter’s eyes lingered on the bags under his eyes. “It’s gotten easier the more I’ve gotten used to the company — I can handle my duties better now and manage my time, but … since my father, everything changed. The world looks at me differently. I was never a normal kid; everyone has always known what the name Osborn means. Only now it … means something else. There’s nothing to be done about that, obviously, it’s just that … if I had my friends, I could take it. You know? The rest of the world wouldn’t matter so much if they stuck by me. And they— they did, of course they did, but, I don’t know, my best friend, he—” He cut off with a sound of frustration.

“What?” Peter whispered.

“He was sort of distant for a while,” Harry said, gaze unfocused. “Maybe he was giving me space. Sometimes he still seems that way. I know I pulled away a lot to sort myself out and try to figure out how to be CEO, but it … it still feels different to how it used to … before.” He played with a piece of wire, then looked at Peter and laughed. “Not exactly the same as what you’re going through, I guess.”

Peter shook his head. “Loneliness is loneliness. Besides, I made my choices and I stick by them.”

Harry watched him a moment longer before saying, “ God , I must be tired.” He stood up again, wiping a hand down his face. “I’m going home. You should, too. Tomorrow, we’ll finish this.”

And they did. Peter was a little surprised, to be honest, considering the fact he had barely slept — his talk with Harry had kept him up most of the night, playing over and over in his head, a weight in his limbs every second they worked on their creation together. He kept thinking about the past year, and before, and how much his lies had hurt Harry. How much Peter was hurting him now. It was a chorus of self-hatred still going in the back of his head as the pair looked at the finished device a day later.

“So what do we do now?” Peter said, trying to push the thoughts away.

Harry shrugged. “We wait for Doc Ock to make another move.”

Harry walked him up to the rooftop, but Peter didn’t leave straight away. He didn’t know what he wanted to say, but as he lingered, so did Harry, and then they were just both stood there looking out at the city below.

“It’s like he was erased,” Harry said out of nowhere. “He’s always looming over my shoulder. Everything I have is his, but now he’s invisible. No one will say his name. It’s like everyone wants to forget him.” He laughed, the sound too sharp. “ God , that’s ironic.”

“How so?” Peter asked hesitantly.

Harry shrugged. “All my life, he barely knew I was there. And now he’s the one who doesn’t exist.”

Peter was well aware of the complicated feelings Harry had about his father. He knew what that man had done to him, been there for the worst of it — and he didn’t mean the supervillainry. Peter had always been there, by Harry’s side; through the drinking and the drugs, the screwed up self worth, all that repressed anger. Norman hadn’t ever hit him — or if he had, Harry had kept it to himself — but that didn’t really mean anything. There was plenty of damage to be done in other ways. The neglect, the disappointment, the constant assurances that Harry was never good enough. That was more than enough to screw up a kid. And a great way to ensure that a guy’s relationship with his father was ... messy.

So. Yes. Peter knew all about how complicated Harry’s feelings on his father were. And now the man was dead, and he still hung over Harry like an ever-present shadow. He had twisted his mind all his life and still wouldn’t leave him alone, burrowed deep like a disease. Peter hated him for that. He hated him for so many things. He hated him for making Harry want nothing more than his approval and love until the day he died and for leaving him full of rage and grief.

“Harry ...” he tried, eyes trained on his gloved hands against the railing, “about your father—”

“He was a bastard.”

Peter stared up at him. Harry wasn’t meeting his eyes, glare intent on the horizon where the sun was beginning to set. His face was a complex mess of emotion, mostly a carefully contained anger that lived in the line of his jaw.

“My father was a bastard,” he repeated. “Maybe he cared about me in his own way, but he — ruined me. Well before he ever became a supervillain. Nothing was ever good enough for him. I wasn’t good enough.” He breathed in slowly, controlled. “But that doesn’t mean I can just ... cut him out. He’s always there, in my head. He’s a part of me. Too much of me, I think. And, yeah, messed up as it all is — I love him. And I think I hate him, too. It’s just ... I have to live with it.”

Peter’s chest was aching again, and there was a lump in his throat that wouldn’t let any words out. He didn’t know what to say, anyway. He hadn’t expected Harry to tell him this, everything he knew already but had never thought he’d hear from Harry’s own mouth, and certainly not to Spider-Man. He just stared as Harry shook his head softly in the low light.

“It’s getting better, I think,” he said, too quiet under the rooftop wind. “I’m working on it.”

Peter swallowed hard and finally managed to speak. “Working on it?”

“Mm. Therapy.”

He had not been expecting to end up here. “You have a therapist?”

“Don’t all rich guys with daddy issues at some point?” he joked, then added, matter-of-fact, “It’s not something to be ashamed of.”

Peter’s heart was pounding. “Right, of course. So you’re open about it?” he carefully prompted, knowing full well Harry had never mentioned it to him before. And it was too obvious, and too easy to take the wrong way, but Peter couldn’t help himself.

Harry finally looked up at him. He had wiped the emotion off his face by now, calm again.

“No. It’s personal.”

Peter nodded silently, tension seeping out of him. Some things were just personal. Harry could keep things to himself. Peter sure did ...

“Why are you telling me this? About your father, I mean.”

Harry thought about it for a second. “I don’t know. I think maybe in some ways it’s easier to talk to someone when you don’t know who they are. Like telling a secret to a stranger.” Peter looked at him wordlessly for a moment, and Harry said, gesturing vaguely, “I mean, don’t you find it easier to talk to people behind that mask?”

Peter supposed he agreed — hadn’t he not so long ago admitted to being lonely because he was wearing the mask? — but with Harry, it just wasn’t that simple. Here, he was speaking to a close friend, one of the most important people in his life, pretending to be a stranger. The layers of deceit were too thick. And they’d had history as Harry and Spider-Man before the two ever even spoke to each other.

Harry was still looking at him and Peter realised he hadn’t answered, but Harry didn’t seem to mind.

“Guess you must, if you have the confidence to make jokes that stupid,” Harry mocked.

Peter felt the tug of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “That is comedy gold,” he insisted with seriousness.

“Riiiight,” Harry said. Then he shrugged and added, “Besides. Considering our history, I thought my feelings about my father were something worth sharing, in the interest of civility.”

He looked right at Peter then, and Peter looked back, infinitely glad to be doing it through lenses.

“I’m not glad he’s dead, but I know it wasn’t your fault, and I don’t blame you. Anymore. I was angry, and you were this faceless person so easy to take it out on, but you’re not just a mask, are you? You care about everyone. You don’t want to see anyone killed, not even him. I know he was ... unreachable. It just took some time for me to come to terms with that. That’s all I have to say about it.”

The silence stretched out, Harry’s stare feeling heavier by the second. Finally, swallowing, Peter managed to nod. “Thank you.”

And Harry nodded, too, accepting this, and just like that the moment had passed.

It felt like something that had been hanging over them ever since Norman’s death had finally been acknowledged and put to rest. Despite all the secrets still between them, it was one of the hugest of Peter’s weights, suddenly lifted. It felt like hope. Like things with Harry could really be fixed.

He really hoped they could be fixed.

“White chocolate mocha,” Harry said, sitting at the table after putting down their coffees. It was the afternoon — the sun glowed pleasantly on the pavement outside — but they both needed it.

Looking up from his phone, Peter groaned and put his face in his arms.

“What.”

“Why are girlfriends so impossible to find,” he moaned.

There was a pause. “You’re ... looking for a date?” Peter nodded from his cocoon of sleeves. Harry spoke hesitantly, “I mean — I guess I could hook you up—”

“For MJ,” Peter said, looking up, eyebrows turned down pitifully.

She had cornered him again that morning, demanding answers. He had honestly forgotten about it for a few days, what with the Doc Ock problem and everything that had gone on with Harry as a result. He couldn’t tell her that, though. He had mumbled something about having ideas to look into and slipped past her when she was distracted by a very lucky phone call. He knew he couldn’t go on like this. Scrolling through his contacts was getting him nowhere.

Harry frowned across the table. “You want a girlfriend for MJ?”

Peter sighed. “I owe her a girlfriend.”

“You owe her a girlfriend,” Harry echoed.

“Yes, Har. I’m an idiot and MJ wants a date and I owe her a girlfriend and I swear I knew more lesbians a month ago.”

“Oh, Pete. You should know by now never to end up in debt to MJ.”

“I know,” he moaned, putting his face in his arms again. He heard Harry’s muffled laugh through the fabric.

“Come ooon, Pete,” he coaxed, the amusement not quite gone. “You must know someone.”

Peter shook his head hopelessly against the table.

“What about Felicia? She likes girls.”

“She’s off somewhere in Italy, I think.”

Harry tapped the table as he thought. “What about ... Liz — Liz Allan?”

“Straight. And engaged.”

“Ah. Betty Brant?”

“Seeing someone.”

There was a pause as Harry considered. “I thought that, uh — what’s her name? Stacy? I thought she was single at the moment.”

Peter looked up abruptly, blinking at him from under wild hair.

“You know, from your high school internship at Oscorp — you’re still friends, right?” Harry continued as a lightbulb went off in Peter’s brain. “She still works there.”

“You— You mean Gwen Stacy?”

“ Gwen ! Yeah, that’s the one. What’s wrong with her?”

Peter stared at him. “Nothing,” he said. “She’s perfect.” He stood up without warning. “You are perfect,” he told Harry in amazement.

Harry stared at him as Peter gathered up his things and reached over to grab his face and plant a kiss in his hair.

“Amazing,” he repeated as he backed out of the shop. “Absolutely amazing! I’ll see you later! Thanks for the coffee!”

“Yeah. Uh, see you, Pete.”

No time to waste. Who knew how fast Gwen might suddenly get a girlfriend now that he had finally thought of her? The universe was likely to make it happen just to spite him. He found Gwen’s Instagram quickly enough. She was surprised to hear from him — it had been a while, which was why he hadn’t thought of her — but she was getting off work soon and agreed to talk. Peter met her outside the building twenty minutes later.

“Peter, you don’t think it’s weird that I’m your ex?” was the first thing Gwen said after he explained, giving him a look, one eyebrow raised.

“Um,” he said, “no …? Okay, maybe, but that was in high school!”

“Like how you and her were in high school?”

He threw up his hands. “Okay, fine, yes, Gwen, I’m trying to set up my high school girlfriends. Are you interested or not?”

“Are you going to show me a picture?”

He scrambled for his phone, finding a photo with MJ.

Gwen eyed it for a few seconds that lasted an eternity, Peter watching anxiously.

“Give me her number.”

Peter had barely left the Oscorp building when it was attacked once again. Doc Ock, apparently looking for Harry, judging by the rooms Peter found his bots tearing through once he got inside. His relief that at least he wouldn’t find Harry here was cut short when Peter burst into the lab they’d been working in to retrieve the disrupter only to run straight into the man himself.

“How convenient,” Harry said, calmly stepping back. He was already holding the disrupter. He held it up to Peter and waved it. “You want to test our little project together?”

As it turned out, the disrupter … had some kinks to work out. While they managed to destroy most of the octobots, the disrupter only seemed to interrupt the signal if it was fairly close to them, and sometimes only for a few seconds. It was disappointing to say the least.

Harry gave a slow clap when Peter brought the last one down.

“Not bad,” he said, stepping over it and crouching down for a closer look. “Less damage to my building this time,” he added with a pointed look at a door swinging off its hinges. Peter may have smashed up a little of Oscorp on his journey of smashing octobots. He decided to ignore this in favour of the positives.

“Wow. Did Harry Osborn just give me a compliment?”

His tone was light, but he was too nervous to smile behind the mask. The other night had almost felt like a fever dream. Peter wasn’t entirely certain he hadn’t made it up.

Harry raised an eyebrow as he looked up, but his answer came with what was almost a grin.

“Oh, Spidey, you should be so lucky.” He straightened. “But I’ll admit you’re alright to work with. And it looks like our job isn’t done yet. You up for it?”

“Of course,” Peter said immediately.

Harry nodded. “We probably missed something in the design — your bot was smashed pretty good. We might find the answer in these.” He kicked at the octobot at his feet.

When he went to pick it up, Peter frowned.

“Now?”

“Sure, now. Why, you busy?”

“I kind of thought you might be, considering …” He waved an arm vaguely. Harry just shook his head.

“I need to make a few calls, but if you head to the lab now you can get started on this thing and I’ll be there in a bit.” Harry piled the powered down bot into Peter’s arms, and he struggled to take it from him, pieces of it starting to come apart in his hands. Harry shrugged once his arms were free with a slight smile. “My friend bailed on me anyway, so my schedule just cleared.”

“Oh?” Peter said tightly, realising.

Slipping a hand into his pocket, Harry said, “Yeah, well, he has this thing with disappearing. I’m sure he’s fine.” Then he tapped something into his phone and put it to his ear, and then he was turning away as someone picked up on the other end. Peter watched him walk halfway down the corridor before finally turning for the lab.

So … Spider-Man and Harry Osborn were friends now?

Peter had felt nothing but relief since that night, but now there was uncertainty. They were renegotiating their relationship, and Peter didn’t know what to expect.

Maybe he should have, though — as it turned out, their dynamic was much like Peter and Harry’s. As they worked, they eased slowly and settled into a more casual, less restrained back and forth. It was nice, just working together, but the new problems became evident within those first few hours. For Peter, this was perhaps more hazardous than what they had before. The blurred line between Harry’s relationship with Peter and Harry’s relationship with Spider-Man made for too many close calls. Every time he called him Har he tacked on a likely much more suspicious -ry a beat too late. More than once he caught himself about to touch Harry without thinking, familiarity that suited a pair that had been friends since childhood and not a man who didn’t even know his name.

But the rest of it … well, it was starting to feel easy. Maybe easier than it should have.

Too many slip ups. One late night working, Harry ordered a pizza without either of them thinking, and when it arrived, it hit Peter that he couldn’t eat it. His hand had already started to go for his mask before his brain caught up.

“Oh, come on,” Harry said, noticing the hesitation. “You can manage a bite.”

Peter put his hand down.

“Sorry. I like to be extra cautious. I have a very memorable face.”

Harry snorted. “I could recognise you by your jawline?”

“Especially my jawline.”

Harry shook his head, laughing lightly. “I’ll save you a slice, sweetheart.”

He went home with two.

In the meantime, MJ was quite happy to agree that Peter’s debt was settled. Already, he had met Gwen half dressed in his kitchen and made small talk over morning coffee. Definitely not the most awkward fifteen minutes of his life. He was just glad to have MJ off his back. She never would have said anything, of course, but he did owe her.

He explained to Harry later and thanked him for being a genius. Harry laughed.

“What did you do to get in debt with MJ like that, anyway?”

Peter hoped his pause wasn’t obvious before he covered by saying, “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

But he swore there was the briefest hesitation when Harry replied with a smile, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Peter pushed down the thought and grinned. “Come on. I owe you a coffee.”

“Better be careful with those promises.”

Peter tried not to think about that, either.

Three attacks later and they had finally finished the disrupter. Once again time to play the waiting game. They agreed that Spidey should have the disrupter while Harry worked on reproducing it so he could test it out the next time Doc Ock used the octobots.

Harry grinned like he could see Peter’s own smile through the mask. “I’d get us some celebratory pizza if you weren’t so hot it’d explode my brain.”

Peter barked a laugh. “I said memorable, not drop dead gorgeous.” Harry just rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I actually have a date with Torchie, so I gotta get going.”

“Hmm …”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Harry’s eyes flicked over his masked face. “Nothing, just … still weird to think there’s some regular guy under there. A devastatingly attractive guy,” he added with a grin, “but you know what I mean.”

Peter forced a smile. “Yeah, well, Johnny and I don’t hang out much as, like … him and me. I mean, we’re superhero buddies, you know? We are friends, it’s just easier not to have to come up with some story about how I met Johnny Storm.”

He and Johnny had had this conversation a few times now, whenever Johnny would point out how rarely they saw each other with Peter in his civvies, because how do I explain how I know the Human Torch to my friends, matchstick. Peter preferred their little lunch hangouts on the tops of buildings or afternoons at the Baxter Building.

“ Wow ,” Harry said. “You really keep everything separate, don’t you?”

Peter shrugged uncomfortably.

Harry tilted his head. “Huh. Guess that puts me in that category, too, then, doesn’t it?” He smirked. “Harry Osborn, billionaire CEO?”

Peter ignored the ache he felt at that. As if Harry could ever be anything less than everything to him. He kept his tone carefully light.

“You don’t know who I am, so.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Sure, but we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Right,” Peter said. He picked up the disrupter and started backing toward the door. “I’m still not giving you my number.”

“Oh, come ooon,” Harry groaned. “You’ve gotta have some kind of spidey phone in there.”

“Kind of defeats the purpose of the secret identity.”

“How am I supposed to get in touch with you?” Harry argued, not for the first time.

Peter smirked. “Billionaire CEO, Harry Osborn? You can figure it out.”

“Jackass.”

Peter waved the disrupter at him. “I’ll be back with updates as soon as I’ve tried this out.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll have fifty new ones by then, anyway.”

“Sure. See you around, Harry.”

It wasn’t Peter that ran into Doc Ock first, though. Apparently after Spider-Man used the faulty disrupter to interrupt his last few attempts at stealing tech, he had decided to stop their work by destroying the labs at Oscorp. As usual, Oscorp had enough surprises to keep Doc Ock occupied until Peter made it there with the disrupter. But he had learned from his past mistakes. This time, he had come himself, which meant he was working close range and there was nothing Peter could do but once again smash up octobots.

When he found the labs, Doc Ock was wrestling with some experimental kind of robot — and Harry was laying in the corner. The room was wrecked. Doc Ock had come through a hole he had made in the wall and equipment had been strewn everywhere.

Peter wasted no time in lunging at him.

The fight was fast and something of a blur in his mind, his punches fuelled by desperation and a fear he rarely felt when faced with supervillains. Every item thrown caught his eye as he watched to see where it would land, every few attacks interrupted by webs flung out to snatch rubble that was headed too much in Harry’s direction.

The lab was more than destroyed by the end of it. Peter had a feeling it was more that fact than anything he did that finally had Doc Ock retreating.

Peter picked through the rubble, feeling a brief stab of panic. He quickly caught sight of Harry still slumped in the corner with what looked like the replicated disrupter in pieces in his hand.

“Harry!” Peter said, grabbing him frantically by the shoulders. Harry shook him off, groaning, and got shakily to his feet with a weak laugh, letting the shards fall out of his grip.

“Whoo!” he said as he stumbled and caught himself, blinking hard. Peter’s hands hovered around him awkwardly. His eyes focused on Peter. “The disrupter?”

“Harry … the labs …”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry waved dismissively, “do you have the disrupter?”

“I’ve got it, it’s fine, but the plans—”

Harry shook his head. “Relax, Spidey. This is Oscorp. We’ve got hundreds of labs.”

“But—”

“I have all the designs saved,” Harry told him with a roll of his eyes. “I’m not an idiot. I keep everything backed up.”

Peter let out a breath of relief he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“You never relax, do you?” Harry said. Peter let out an offended sound, but then Harry stumbled again, and this time Peter held onto him, and then Harry was already speaking. “You really saved my ass there.”

Peter shrugged. “You seemed like you were doing okay,” he said, with a vague nod at where the robot had been.

Harry shook his head. “That was a lab robot. It’s a miracle it held up like that — it was never designed for any kind of combat.” He looked up, a smile playing on his lips. “I haven’t been very nice to you, have I?” he said, eyes focusing on Peter’s masked face again as his smile grew into the smirk that Peter always knew meant trouble. “I’ve never even said thank you for saving my life. Let me make it up to you.”

“Uhh …”

It occurred to Peter how close they were, with his hands on Harry’s biceps to steady him, and one of Harry’s lightly gripping his wrist as though for support. Harry reached his other hand toward the mask, and Peter froze.

An alarm was going off in his head, his heart beating a storm in his chest, and Harry was finding the edge of the mask and pulling it up but Peter could not move.

Then he stopped. Harry had rolled the mask up to the bridge of Peter’s nose, and now he was gently holding Peter’s chin between his fingers. He leaned in, slow, watching him. Peter still hadn’t quite caught up to what he was doing when — Harry kissed him.

Peter’s mind went blank.

Harry’s lips were soft, and Peter found himself kissing back for a quiet moment before Harry pulled away with a little smile and an odd pat of Peter’s arm.

“I think I’m going to pass out now.”

“O— Okay,” Peter said shakily.

And then Harry collapsed against him.

Peter realised, rather too late, that now was the time to tell Harry the truth.

“Okay, what is with you?”

He looked at Johnny in the evening light, his arms crossed over his chest on the rooftop beside Peter. His eyes were narrowed as he stared Peter down.

“Hm?”

“You barely made one pun that whole fight. Something is seriously wrong.”

“Thought you didn’t like my puns.”

“And you love to annoy me,” Johnny countered. “So what’s up with you?”

Peter rolled his eyes, sighing. “Flamebrain …”

“Come on, webhead, spit it out already.”

He rubbed his spandex-covered knees. He hadn’t touched his hotdog. He’d kind of forgotten it was even there.

“I … made friends with Harry.”

There was a pause before Johnny said, “Right.”

Peter sighed again.

“Spider-Man made friends with Harry.”

“What.”

Peter dropped his face into his hands, groaning.

“How’d you manage that? A few weeks ago you were counting his not killing you as a win.”

“Things changed,” Peter said. “We understand each other now.”

“Okay …” Johnny sounded a little confused. “No, I don’t get it. What’s the problem, again?”

Peter threw up his hands, looking at him. “I dug myself a brand new hole, man!” Harry had forgiven Spider-Man — or maybe admitted that he had never needed to. And now, what, he was supposed to tell his best friend that he was secretly the guy in the mask he had befriended and then kissed? All these years he had been keeping his secret, and now he could tell him? “I— I made it all too complicated. I don’t even know how to act around him anymore.”

Johnny shrugged slowly. “So … un-complicate it.” At Peter’s lack of response, he clarified, “Tell him.”

And that was just it, wasn’t it?

Peter had never intended to give up his secret to anyone, and even if that hadn’t exactly gone to plan, it didn’t mean he had to tell Harry. Even if Harry was already in danger all the time. Even if it hurt to lie to him, to look him in the eye knowing he was pretending every second, knowing all the things he should say and apologise for and everything that weighed on him, everything Harry deserved to hear …

Peter was shaking his head. “He doesn’t need to know.”

“Doesn’t he deserve to?”

He met Johnny’s eyes for a brief moment and had to look away.

“After all this time, Johnny, I don’t … I don’t know how.”

Johnny sighed. “Pete, the guy’s your best friend. All you need is the truth. He’ll understand.”

He couldn’t know that. Peter couldn’t take that chance. How long had he been hanging onto the Harry he was allowed as Peter Parker, fearing every moment that this revelation might take his best friend away from him forever? How could he risk that, now, of all times, when it was good, when they were happy?

Seeing Harry was getting difficult, though.

He was less busy now, what with the repairs to his building, and Peter only had so many excuses he could make, but he just kept making them. Spider-Man was one thing, hiding behind the mask. Standing in front of Harry as Peter Parker, everything on show, while keeping this secret was unbearable.

“What are you being so stubborn for, Peter?”Johnny said, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Stop with the self-punishing bullshit already. You’ll only hurt the both of you, man.”

Peter gave him an offended look. “I’m not — punishing myself. I just don’t see the point in pushing things. The past few years have been hell with Harry. All that lying …”

“So you’re going to fix that with more lying?”

Peter shook his head. “It doesn’t need fixing. It’s better than it’s been between us in a long time.”

He’d get used to it. Keeping his secret was a habit he had gotten comfy with, and he could get there again. It was a far less painful arrangement now, too. It should be. It should hurt less.

And then there was that kiss …

Johnny’s eyebrow raised. It seemed to Peter that he was looking right into him. “Then why are you so miserable, dude?”

“I’m fine,” Peter snapped, abruptly on his feet. “I’m gonna get an early night,” he said, and swung away before Johnny could reply.

He did think about it. He even made a try at saying the words, but as soon as, “Har, I have to tell you something …” was out of his mouth and Harry was looking at him with such an open, expectant expression, waiting patiently, his throat dried up.

When Harry gently prompted, “What is it, Pete?” all he could do was babble about some forgotten assignment, apologies for cancelling once again, barely noticing the look of hurt on Harry’s face at his hurried departure in his panic as he gathered his things and left.

Later, he went to Oscorp to check on Harry’s progress. When he knocked on the office window after finding Harry at his desk, Harry waved as though to say come on in. The door to the roof was open and soon he was stood in Harry’s doorway.

“Hey, man,” he said, standing with his eyes still on his tablet as he waved away holograms of what Peter recognised as specifications for the disrupter. “A few of the usual labs are safe to use again. The new disrupter is almost done, but I could always use some company while I finish.”

He was already headed to the door, and Peter hadn’t moved. Harry switched off his tablet and raised an eyebrow when he caught sight of him just standing there.

“You alright?”

Peter nodded, turning to let Harry fit through the doorway. Harry didn’t move forward, instead holding his tablet to his chest and eyeing Peter.

“Is this about the other day?”

Trust Harry to be so blunt. Peter hated that Harry could get this reaction out of him even when he was wearing the mask, when he was another person: tongue-tied, uncertain. Every minute he spent with Harry earlier that he had managed to stop worrying, he had thought about that kiss. Thinking about it now made his face feel too hot under the mask. He thought he would feel awkward having kissed his best friend, but instead he was just … disappointed.

Harry tilted his head when Peter just sort of shifted his weight. “What, guys don’t kiss you as thanks all the time?”

“Uhh …” Peter couldn’t quite tell if he was kidding or if that was really what he thought of Spider-Man. There was amusement to his face, for sure, but that was often there.

“You’re not seeing anyone, are you?”

“No, nothing like that,” Peter said, almost a laugh, breathless and short.

Harry looked at him for a long second, eyes narrowed as he tried to figure Peter out. “You are into guys, aren’t you? I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, you just really haven’t been giving off straight vibes—”

“No, no, no, definitely into guys,” Peter interrupted quickly. Harry sighed.

“Relax, dude, seriously. It’s not a big deal.” Then he shrugged, and said something Peter was not expecting: “I have a thing for someone else anyway.”

Something felt off in Peter’s chest. He smiled despite it. “Oh! Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He waved at Peter then and stepped through the doorway, and Peter had to follow him down the hallway to continue their conversation. Harry spoke as they went, “I mean, it’s kind of hopeless, but — yeah. Either way, it’s not like I’m gonna fall in love with a masked stranger, okay? Don’t worry so much.” As if Peter could ever help that. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

“Well … you’re welcome. Bro.”

Harry laughed.

Down in the lab, they were pretty much back to normal, working together in comfortable silence.

Until Harry said out of nowhere, “So … you’re not dating the Torch?”

“ What ?”

Harry put his hands up. “Just checking, man.”

Peter felt like his eyes were bulging out of his skull. “Why would you ever think that?”

“Seriously?”

Peter just stared at him.

Harry got back to work, looking unconcerned. “Oh, come on, Spidey. You were, like, a teen superhero duo together. He knows who you are, even if you keep him separate from your life like a boyfriend you’re ashamed of. Last week, you mentioned your whole Statue of Liberty Christmas tradition. And that he taught you to drive.”

Peter was gaping at him. “Tried. And failed badly.”

“Yeah, alright — and all those messages in the sky?”

“To get each other’s attention!”

“They’re practically love letters!”

Peter scoffed.

Harry finally acquiesced, “Alright, fine, fine, not dating then.”

There was a brief silence.

“ Really , though?”

Peter threw his hands up. “We’re not!”

“Alright, alright, alright.”

The next silence was longer, in which Harry kept working, and Peter just sort of stared at the table until he admitted, “He is pretty cool.” He shot Harry a look and added vehemently, “I would never ever admit this to his face and I will deny it all, but … Torchie’s okay. He, you know — gets it.”

Harry nodded (albeit with a traitorously amused tilt to his smile), and Peter could see he understood. Like he just couldn’t help himself, he added, “Aww, you really do like him. Spidey and the Torch are bros.”

“I mean it, Harry,” Peter said, “I will have to kill you.”

Harry grinned.

He stuck around a few more hours, but eventually he told Harry he needed to go on patrol and went out to clear his head.

Something just kept eating at him. Something other than the rest of everything always on his mind.

It shouldn’t matter that Harry was into someone. What did it matter? It was strange for him to tell Spider-Man and never mention it to Peter, but he supposed there was no reason for it to come up. And he could only blame himself, really. He hadn’t exactly been around lately.

But it just kept bothering him, constantly in the background of his thoughts as he patrolled, and still when he went home and crawled in through the window. The giggling from MJ’s room told him Gwen was over, which was good because he didn’t know how to talk to anyone right now. He went into his bedroom and just lay there, thinking.

Was Harry seeing someone and hadn’t told him? Were they really so out of touch now that Harry wouldn’t have mentioned it to him? He was often quite private, but his love life was rarely a topic he kept to himself. He had always seemed casual about the whole thing. So what had he meant about it being hopeless? Since when did Harry worry about relationships? Usually, he moved on quickly whenever it seemed something wasn’t working out; Peter wasn’t sure he remembered Harry ever being genuinely heartbroken.

But Harry had a thing for someone. Even if it was hopeless.

Why did that bother Peter so much?

Of course he would never want Harry to get hurt. Of course he wished Harry had talked to him about it. But there was just something else. He kept thinking and thinking, his heart squeezing in his chest. He thought about Harry kissing him and his disappointment.

Would he have been so disappointed if Harry was really kissing him?

… Oh.

He ambushed MJ when he heard the door close behind Gwen. She took in his messy hair and tormented expression with a raised eyebrow, but didn’t seem surprised until he spoke.

“I think … I’m in love with Harry.”

“Uh,” she said. “I mean, yeah.”

Peter blinked. “Huh?”

She shrugged, looking a little confused. “It’s not exactly breaking news.”

He worked his jaw for a moment before managing to speak. “You … You knew?”

“Oh.” She frowned at that. Then she turned and went for the kitchen, starting to make some tea with a contemplative look on her face. Peter followed her, standing in the doorway feeling clueless. She looked at him with some concern. “I know we’ve never exactly talked about it, but I kind of figured.”

There was a beat of silence as she watched the realisation happening on his face.

“Why did you never tell me?!” Peter demanded.

MJ stared back at him incredulously. “I was supposed to tell you that you’re in love with your best friend?”

“ Yes !” Peter exclaimed like this was obvious.

“Well, damn, Parker, it’s not my fault you’re so oblivious.”

He ran his hands through his hair, stricken. “But— It’s been years—”

MJ cut him off with a shake of her head. “Oh, come on, it’s not like I’ve always known. I mean, first I had a crush on you and you liked me — then we were dating, then we were broken up, and then we were trying to be friends again. And then we came out to each other. I guess maybe I realised it once I knew you were bi,” she mused. “But you never talked to me about it, so what was I supposed to do? Wasn’t my business. I really kind of thought you must know by now.”

Peter’s eyes were wide. “Well, I didn’t!”

“Yeah, no shit, man.”

He groaned loudly, rubbing his hands over his face.

“I’m honestly kind of surprised he hasn’t noticed,” MJ continued, unsympathetic. “But, well, who knows what Harry’s thinking?” She poured the tea and slid him a mug, eyeing him. “Is this why you haven’t told him? I didn’t get it at first, then with the Spidey thing I thought that explained it. But if you were this oblivious …”

Peter just made a choked noise in response. He picked up the mug just to hold it, feel the warmth in his hands.

“Peter … do you want to …”

Peter knew what she was getting at. He still hadn’t talked about The Harry Problem, hadn’t mentioned what had changed between them or anything else that had happened, though she had tried to get something out of him when the Doc Ock attacks on Oscorp came up in the news. He had been too hurt to discuss it, then too scared to hope, and now too full of guilt and confusion and everything else. He just wasn’t ready.

“I just need to think for a while,” he managed. “Thanks, MJ.”

“I’m here,” she said, unexpectedly tender, “whenever you need me.”

He nodded, unable to say anything else, and left to hide in his room.

His excuses kept coming. After this new revelation, Peter had lost all ability to act normal around Harry anymore, mask or no. It was like realising it had made it impossible to ignore. He thought about Harry all the time, the feelings all confused and mixed up and his heart thudded painfully whenever Harry called. He stopped picking up. It wasn’t like he had been answering much lately anyway.

After a week of this, he ran into Harry on the street on his way to pick up his testosterone prescription, the place not far from the Oscorp building. His stomach flipped when Harry met his eyes.

“Hey,” he said with a forced smile.

Harry took one look at him, eyes piercing as though he could see right through him, and then he turned to leave.

It took a second for Peter’s brain to catch up. “Har— what—”

“Pete, stop,” Harry said, and Peter came to a stop as Harry paused on the corner of the street to face him. He sighed. “Can we not do this?”

“What do you …”

Harry met his eyes. They were unreadable. Peter hated that he could do that. “Peter, I know when I’m being avoided.”

“That’s not—”

“Pete.” There was no way to argue with that tone. Peter swallowed, holding his gaze. “It’s been like this for months now, you pulling away. I’m sure you have your reasons—”

“I do .”

“—but unless you’re going to explain them to me, it doesn’t matter.”

They stood in silence for a long time, Peter utterly frozen, before Harry nodded, the action final, resolute. And then he moved to leave.

“Harry, please,” Peter said numbly, blood roaring in his ears.

Harry shook his head. He didn’t look at him. “I can’t be the one who holds on, Pete. I can’t do it. See you around.”

Peter tried to grab his arm, but his hand just slid off as Harry walked away from him. And he was gone.

He didn’t think going to Oscorp after that was the best idea, but Peter had always excelled in making bad decisions. He knew he should check on their work — Harry had been thinking of different ways to use the disrupter to deter Doc Ock when Peter was last there — but really he just needed to be around Harry. To have him look at him with those piercing eyes and not see hurt in them.

“Oh, hey,” Harry said when Spider-Man found him in the lab, smiling as he looked up from his project.

“Hi.”

He took a seat next to Harry, leaning over to look at what he was doing, but keeping his distance. Harry started explaining easily.

It was dizzying, seeing him after what happened and having to pretend it wasn’t tearing him apart. He may have been avoiding Harry as both Peter and Spider-Man, yet with Spidey he could be casual and friendly, like it didn’t even matter. Two different relationships. After all, Spider-Man wasn’t the one who had been best friends with Harry for years and now wouldn’t even pick up his calls. Peter was careful not to speak until he was sure his voice wouldn’t come out so broken.

Harry didn’t seem to notice anything was off. He seemed a little distracted himself, and Peter couldn’t blame him. They worked, they joked, Harry ate takeout and didn’t push Peter when he didn’t join. But Peter’s chest wouldn’t stop aching.

Maybe it wasn’t so much Harry that he had been clinging to, but rather the version of himself that could have him. Whatever version Harry could love.

But Harry didn’t deserve that. Peter knew now how much he was hurting him.

They couldn’t keep going like this.

The next day, Peter found Harry in his office again. He didn’t knock. Instead, he went straight to the roof. The door was left propped open for Spider-Man, so he quickly changed back into his civvies before going inside.

It was already pretty late so there weren’t many workers around, and a few of them had seen Peter here enough times in the past not to question it. Harry’s door was open. He knocked lightly on the doorframe.

“Pete?” Harry stood in surprise, stepping away from his desk. He craned his neck to look behind Peter at the empty doorway. “How’d you get up here?”

Peter shrugged. “I have my ways,” he said, smiling weakly.

The confusion left Harry’s face, his expression settling into something harder as he stopped in the middle of the room. “What do you want, Peter?”

Peter swallowed. “I … need to talk to you.”

Harry’s jaw was tight. “Can we not do this?” he repeated.

“Harry, I know I haven’t been … the best friend lately.” Harry laughed at that, mirthless and dark. “I’m sorry,” he said, not meaning for his voice to come out a whisper.

“Yeah, well, sorry doesn’t solve anything,” Harry said harshly. He turned away, back to his desk. “You know your way out.”

Peter forced himself to stand his ground. He steeled himself, stepping properly into the office and closing the door behind him.

Harry didn’t look up as he leaned against his desk. “Peter, you don’t have to do this,” he said, voice dull. “You always want to fix things. But I’ve known something was wrong here for a long time now, longer than I’ve wanted to admit. Some things can’t be put back together.”

Peter took a step toward him. His voice was unbearably pleading. “Yes, they can, Har. I know I’ve hurt you, I know that—”

“Pete,” Harry whispered brokenly, his knuckles turning white where he gripped the desk, “it’s not your fault that you don’t want me.”

There it was, the false bravado falling away. All that confidence just a mirage to hide the damaged person beneath, one that second guessed and hated himself with every breath. Only Peter ever got to see it, because Harry never trusted it to anyone else, even now. Sometimes he wished he could just sit with him for hours telling him he was good enough, that what his father had done to him wasn’t his fault, it never was. Maybe Norman hadn’t wanted Harry, but he had never deserved him, anyway.

Instead, he said, “Harry, no, that’s not it. I’m sorry — I’m so sorry I made you feel like that. You just— You don’t know everything. Just listen to me, okay? Please?” Harry just shook his head, clenching his jaw. Peter swallowed again and braced himself, stepping closer. “You wanted a reason. So I’m going to tell you.”

Harry looked up slightly, somewhere in Peter’s direction. “An explanation,” he said, not quite a question.

Peter nodded. “The truth.”

“The truth.”

Peter nodded again, searching for words. “I don’t know exactly how to say this …”

Harry finally looked straight at him. Waiting. Now or never. But when he moved his mouth, no sound came out. Where could he even start?

And then — because he was an idiot — he had an idea.

Peter swiftly closed the space between them, taking Harry’s face in his hands, and kissed him.

Harry made a surprised noise, a hand going up to grip Peter’s elbow. And suddenly, for one glorious moment, Harry was kissing him back, moving against Peter in a way that had his legs feeling weak, until—

He heard it when it happened, the gasp against his mouth. Harry broke the kiss abruptly, pushing past Peter to stand in the centre of the room like he needed more air. Peter dizzyingly tried to get a hold of his thoughts as he waited for a reaction, turning to face him.

Harry was pointing at him, wide-eyed. “You— You’re— Oh my god.” He put a hand over his face. “My life is such a joke.”

“I … I didn’t know how to tell you,” Peter said, still breathless. His lips buzzed with the feeling of Harry’s mouth.

Harry looked up. “So you kissed me?”

Peter looked at him helplessly. “Whoops?”

“Pete, you’re goddamn Spider-Man!”

“Yeah …” Peter said, watching him carefully.

Harry was shaking his head. “This ... actually explains a lot,” he said like this fact annoyed him.

“Everyone keeps saying that.”

Harry looked at him sharply. “ Everyone ? How many people know?”

“No— wait, no, I phrased that badly,” Peter hurried, stumbling over his words. “Just — MJ said that. Just MJ.”

“You told MJ but not me?” he said, the hurt in his eyes just as awful as Peter had expected. “How long has she known? God, you’ve been doing this so long, haven’t you, since— since high school — did you tell her then? Back when you were dating? You told your girlfriend and not your best friend—”

“Harry, no!” Peter cut him off insistently, his words coming too fast to try to match Harry’s frantic pace. “No, I never told her, okay? She just found out a few months ago — it wasn’t even on purpose. I never meant to tell anyone. I couldn’t.”

There was silence for a second, Peter breathing heavily, then: “Yeah,” Harry sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

Peter suddenly remembered their conversation, how Harry had accused him of being lonely and Peter had explained why he had to keep it to himself. How he had to protect the people he loved. He felt suddenly very exposed, no mask to hide behind.

Speak of the devil.

An alert sounded from his phone just as something exploded in the distance. They both looked up at the window, then met each other’s eyes.

Peter fished out his phone. “It’s Doc Ock,” he said flatly, unsurprised. The Doc hadn’t made a move in a while. He looked up at Harry, who was standing very still. “Har …”

Harry licked his lips, crossed his arms. “Do you have the disrupter?”

Peter nodded. Harry nodded back.

“Go.”

“Harry …”

“Pete, there is no version of this where you don’t go out there,” Harry said, and there was no resentment in his voice. “We both know that.”

Peter only watched him a moment longer before darting out of the office, leaving Harry alone.

Aching and exhausted, Peter stopped on the fire escape by his window, catching his breath. All through the fight, he hadn’t stopped thinking about Harry … and there he was. Still waiting for him, pacing in Peter’s living room. He felt a rush of relief at the sight him. He knew MJ was out tonight, so Harry must have used his spare key to let himself in.

He tapped lightly on the window. As soon as Harry turned to look, he rushed over to open it.

“Hey, Har,” Peter rasped with unconvincing cheer. “Sorry I’m late. Can we agree that losing a gallon of blood counts as a valid excuse?”

“Pete. What. The fuck.”

Peter cleared his throat a little. “I’m sorry, really. I would have gone to the Baxter Building, but I, uh ...” Well, what was the point in downplaying it? Harry could see well enough for himself. “I didn’t think I could make it that far,” he admitted after only a momentary pause.

“Peter, shut up and get in here,” Harry said with a mixture of horror and concern colouring his voice. He helped Peter across the room onto the couch, laying him down. Harry went back to shut the window. When he looked up again, Peter was trying to stand. “Sit the fuck down,” he ordered impatiently, hurrying over to press Peter’s shoulders back into the couch. It wasn’t hard; he was really out of it.

“I was just going to get the first aid kit.”

“I’ll get it,” Harry said firmly. “Don’t move.”

Peter stopped reluctantly and stared after Harry until he came back with it, sitting carefully beside Peter on the couch. He motioned for Peter to get undressed and he did without complaining. There were too many wounds to deal with on both his torso and legs for arguing to be of any use. Harry surveyed him with an impassive look, taking everything in before finding the necessary supplies.

“Har, I can’t ask you to do this—”

“Well, you’re not fucking asking, are you? Sit still.”

It was silent for a while, Harry methodically treating each of his wounds, with occasional guidance from Peter since he had more experience. But Peter could see he was holding his tongue.

“Just say what you’re thinking,” he said, when Harry finished bandaging his arm. “I’m listening.”

Harry shook his head, seemingly in response to nothing. “I know what you said about protecting me — everyone,” he finally decided. He must have been thinking about this since Peter left him in his office. “I understand your reasons, but, Pete, come on. You know I haven’t been any safer being kept in the dark. Not for a long time.”

Peter could see what he was thinking about. The memories pawed at his mind, unwelcome, those days of the Green Goblin’s rampage. How could he have said anything, told him the truth about who his father was, asked him to believe him? And in the after …

“Harry,” Peter said quietly, “you know why I couldn’t tell you then.”

He couldn’t quite keep the pain out of his voice. It was strange to see the understanding on Harry’s face. All those years of lies, it was surreal to have the truth out.

“But that doesn’t explain it, Pete,” Harry said gently. “Especially recently — it doesn’t explain anything. I’ve made it pretty damn clear how I feel about Spider-Man now — I might as well have spelled it out for you. If anything, things should have gotten better.” His voice came out too quiet, “But you’ve just been avoiding me.”

Peter felt a twinge of guilt at this. There was always so much guilt when it came to Harry. Harry just looked at him, the last of the kit put away. There was nothing more for him to say now. It was time Peter explained. He looked down at his bandaged knuckles, taking a deep breath.

“I got scared,” he admitted. “After everything that’s happened, after I made it all so complicated — after all these years, it just felt so impossible to tell you the truth. I was so scared for so long that you would find out, and when I realised I didn’t need to be anymore, I didn’t want to jeopardise all that. Things were — good. I didn’t know what the truth would do … I couldn’t risk it.”

“And I didn’t deserve the truth?”

Peter swallowed — guilt, guilt, guilt. Johnny had asked him the same, he remembered. In moments like these, he felt like nothing but his mistakes. He was so selfish. “Harry—”

“If things were so good,” Harry interrupted like he knew there was no good answer Peter could give to that, “then why would you avoid me?”

Peter sighed. He threw his hands up. “Because I’m an idiot! I couldn’t lie to you anymore, but I was too scared to tell you. I tried. I just kept putting it off, and not seeing you was easier. I just ...” He lowered his voice. “I didn’t want you to hate me.”

Harry was already shaking his head. “Pete, I would never hate you.”

“Not even after all this?” Peter said. He couldn’t help asking what had been plaguing his thoughts for a while now, what had held him back all this time: “Doesn’t it change things? That it’s me? Spider-Man was a stranger to you. It felt like cheating somehow, like I was scamming your forgiveness out of you. Because it wasn’t just some stranger, Har, it was me.”

“Exactly, Pete. It’s you. Do you really think I wouldn’t have understood, wouldn’t have trusted you? You’re my … my best friend. And honestly, Pete?” Harry said, a hand reaching to slip over his bandaged palms, “I’m just glad to have you back.”

The warmth in Peter’s chest was too much for him to express. He wanted to apologise again, somehow make it all better. He remembered what Harry had said about him wanting to fix everything. He didn’t speak. The next few moments passed in silence, Harry packing everything away and then disappearing into the kitchen. Peter stared out at the moon just visible outside the living room window until he returned with cups of hot chocolate. They sat together, both holding their mugs and staring into the whipped cream.

“So ...” Harry started, “that was our second kiss now, huh?”

The tone change was so sudden it seemed to give Peter whiplash. “Right,” he said blankly, lifting his eyes to Harry with a flash of panic. “Uh ... sorry.”

“Man, I wasn’t gonna be all broken up if Spider-Man didn’t let me kiss him — why didn’t you just tell me you didn’t want to?” Harry blurted after a pause, a tense note to his voice that Peter didn’t like.

“Right,” he said again, staring at his mug. “What’s another lie?”

There was a silence. When he dared to look up, Harry blinked at him. His mouth opened, closed again. Then, head tilted, “You — did want to kiss me?”

Peter rubbed at his neck, feeling the heat rising up it. He put the mug down on the coffee table and rose to his feet. “I— I’m sorry, Harry, this is ... a lot to be putting on you at once.”

Harry was just staring at him like he couldn’t process what was being said. Peter steeled himself, too aware that he was standing in the dark in his boxers, Harry’s eyes too intent on him, and, wincing, finally admitted in a too-loud voice, “You were wrong before: I do want you. Too much. I like you, okay? In a ... non-friend way. Like, a lot. Like, romantically.”

And there it was. The words finally in the air between them. Sometimes truth was as heavy as a lie. He felt like he was going to shatter under the weight of this confession.

For a while, Harry just looked blank-faced. When he finally spoke, it was unexpected.

“You’re sure?”

Peter half laughed, mirthless and nervous. “Would I be telling you if I wasn’t?”

Harry set his own mug down and slowly got up. “Since— Since when?”

He shrugged, not really getting why it mattered. “I don’t know. A while, I think. Maybe years.”

“Why did you never tell me this before?”

“I didn’t even realise until recently,” Peter said defensively. “And it was just so — complicated and messy, all the lies. Those feelings got tangled with everything else. I was already so scared I’d lose you. I couldn’t ... I couldn’t lose you. God, I’m so sorry.”

Harry was gaping at him in what seemed like disbelief. “Lose me?” he echoed, like the words didn’t even make sense. “Pete.”

But he didn’t add anything after that. Instead he just kept looking at him with an expression like he was warring with himself and finally, resolute, he crossed the distance between them in two smooth steps and pulled Peter in for their third kiss.

Peter went unresistingly, kissing back immediately with an earnestness he hadn’t had before, tainted by all that guilt-ridden half panic. Harry felt different, too. He kissed deliberately, more sure of himself instead of surprised — though still hesitant, testing. But it wasn’t the kind of confidence he had with Spider-Man. That had been nice, but ... impersonal. This was flooded with emotion, passion, the kind that filled Peter, told him exactly how Harry felt about him. And what he felt was ... a lot. Peter was so overwhelmed by the time Harry pulled away that he couldn’t make his voice work.

“Do you get it now?” Harry murmured, still thumbing at the skin of Peter’s throat. It was so dizzying, all Peter could do was stare at him. “Pete?” Harry finally prompted.

“Yeppers,” Peter finally managed.

A slow smile spread across Harry’s face. He huffed a laugh.

Peter leaned in to press another gentle kiss to Harry’s lips before pulling back again, ducking his head sheepishly. “Sorry for making everything so complicated.”

“It was always going to be complicated with you, Pete,” Harry said dismissively. “I knew that.”

“This ... is not what I expected.”

Harry tilted his head. “What did you expect?”

Peter played with the collar of Harry’s shirt. “I don’t know. I was worried you’d never talk to me again. But you were right: you deserved to know,” Peter said, needing Harry to know he meant it, that Harry was all he’d ever been thinking about, that he had known it was wrong to keep it from him. “I’ve lied to you for long enough.”

“Does that mean you won’t keep secrets anymore?”

“No more secrets.”

Harry eyed him. “Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

There was another moment of silence before: “You’re friends with Johnny Storm?”

Peter groaned and rolled his eyes hard. “What is with everyone and that flamehead? The guy’s a brat!”

“Oh, come on,” Harry said, looking very amused, “brat or no, can you honestly look me in the eyes and tell me Johnny Storm is not attractive?”

“Har, I would never dare say a nice word about the guy without being one hundred percent certain it’ll never get back to him,” Peter said seriously.

Harry laughed, ducking his head and laughing into Peter’s bare chest.

“So, uh. Does this mean you like me back?” Peter said, just to see the look on Harry’s face.

A grin tugged at his lips even as he rolled his eyes at Peter. “That’s one word for it.”

“Yeah?” Peter said. “You got a better one?”

Harry barely let him finish before kissing him again.

“Hey, matchstick?”

“Yeah, man?”

Peter didn’t look up from the screen as he said, “I told him.”

Johnny glanced at him slightly, fingers smashing his controller. “And?”

Peter couldn’t help smiling to himself. “We’re good.”

Johnny shot a few more zombies, successfully avoiding taking damage.

“So, are you two …” he began suggestively, trailing off.

Peter gaped at him, missing the creature that took half his health on the screen. “Did everyone know but me?!” he blurted in disbelief.

Johnny quirked a brow at him, still playing. “What, that you’re into that Harry of yours?” he shrugged and looked back at the screen to slice through a few more zombies. “I had a bit of a feeling recently, but I wasn’t sure until I saw that lovesick look on your face.”

Peter kicked his controller out of his hand and watched zombies swarm Johnny’s player on the screen. Johnny gave him an unimpressed look.

“Nice.”

Peter smirked, reaching for the pizza box. He passed Johnny a slice to make peace again before speaking.

“We haven’t exactly said we’re dating but, well …” He shrugged. “You know.”

Johnny nodded solemnly, like he understood completely. He said, in all seriousness, “After a certain number of make-outs, it’s just not really a bromance anymore.”

Peter whacked him with a pillow. Johnny just grinned around his pizza and picked up his controller again.

MJ was not pleased to hear how much Peter had been keeping from her regarding events surrounding Spider-Man and Harry, but after she got past her irritation she mostly just seemed happy she could torment Peter about it now that it wasn’t quite such a sensitive topic.

And Harry knowing was … a lot to get used to. For all of them. A few days in, Harry let himself into Peter and MJ’s apartment while Peter was studying in his room. Harry came to a stop in his doorway. “… Uh, Pete?”

“Huh?” Peter jolted out of his daze, and then smack onto the floor.

He groaned, rolling over. Harry came over to crouch next to him.

“Do you usually do your work on the ceiling?”

“I thought I was on the floor,” Peter muttered, forcing himself to sit up.

Harry put a hand on his shoulder to support him. “You forgot you were on the ceiling?”

His voice was equal parts amazement and amusement. Peter did not appreciate it. It did occur to him, though, that to make this as easy as possible for everyone it would be best for Peter to be as honest as he could. “Yes, okay?” he said, rubbing his head. “Sometimes when I pace I walk up walls and sometimes I take naps suspended by webs and sometimes I sit on the ceiling and occasionally I get so wrapped up in what I’m doing that I forget.”

“Wow.” Harry had his eyebrows raised. “You actually managed to be roommates with MJ for years without her ever finding out?”

Peter put his face in his hands. “God, don’t get me started. Last week she found me dozing upside down on our living room wall.” He sighed, looking up again and pushing himself to his feet, Harry’s hand still on him. Brushing himself off, he said, “I’m so glad I always remembered to lock my door. All she said was ‘now I know what all that crashing was about’.”

Harry laughed at him, which was not unexpected. Laughing at Peter’s idiocy had always been a staple of their friendship.

Then there was that time, about a week in, that Harry found Peter near their regular coffee shop half an hour after they had agreed to meet.

(“Mornin’, Pete. You normally take naps in dumpsters?”

“Harry! I’m awake, I’m awake.”

“Take your time. I want to get a pic of this.”)

He especially did not appreciate the kind of solidarity Harry and MJ had developed as friends who were in on the Spider-Man secret. One night when he crashed in through the living room window, he looked up to find them sipping hot chocolate on the couch together. They just shared a glance and then played a silent game of rock, paper, scissors. MJ tapped her fist against Harry’s scissors victoriously and left the room, leaving Harry to sigh as he went to fetch the first aid kit.

There was a lot for them to work out still, though, Peter knew. They were walking together warm coffee in hand down the street in a break between Harry’s meetings and Peter’s classes, empty hands brushing between them — Peter wasn’t sure exactly what was allowed yet, but Harry melted into his every touch — when Harry asked him.

“Didn’t you ever worry I’d follow in his footsteps?”

Peter gave him a blank look. Harry had an expression on his face that Peter didn’t recognise.

“What are you talking about?”

Harry frowned. He spoke slowly. “You were always so worried about losing me if I found out you were Spider-Man, but didn’t you ever think maybe I’d turn out like him? Angry son who hated Spider-Man because he blamed him for his father’s death: that was an obvious recipe for disaster.”

Peter was just staring at him like he didn’t get it, so Harry said, “Come on, Pete. You never worried I’d try to come after you like he did?”

“No,” Peter said, not understanding.

“Why not?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t,” Peter told him, like this was obvious.

“ How ?”

“Because I know you, Har. Your father … he was sick. Awful as he was before, you know he wouldn’t have done those things if he was in his right mind.” Harry nodded vaguely, agreeing, but he didn’t look convinced. “Even so,” Peter went on, “that doesn’t matter. Because you’re not your father.”

Harry looked away at this, steps so slow they were nearly at a standstill in the street now, and Peter felt something painful and hollow in his chest, something he knew deep down finally settling at the front of his mind.

“Har,” he said, voice gentle. “You do know that, right?” Harry didn’t look at him. “You’re not him,” Peter said firmly. “I knew you would never do what he did because I know who you are, Harry. You’re not Norman, you’re your own person, and that person is a thousand times better than he could ever have been.”

Harry still didn’t meet his eyes, but he reached over and took Peter’s hand. They were silent for a while after that, neither of them moving or drinking their coffee, just standing there together.

“Hasn’t your therapist already told you that?” Peter asked when the air was less tense.

Harry huffed. “Please. I don’t pay hir nearly enough for what zie puts up with.” He glanced at Peter, dropping his hand to cup his coffee with both hands as he took a sip. “I forgot I told you about that.”

Peter rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish look. “I’m really sorry.”

Harry just shook his head. “I would rather have told you on purpose, but it wasn’t meant to be a secret.”

“Still,” Peter said, “I’m sorry.”

Harry nodded, holding his gaze. “Thanks. Speaking of, though, Alia’s gonna lose it when I tell hir about this.”

Peter’s eyebrows rose. “You told your therapist about me?”

Harry shrugged. “You’re on my mind a lot. I mean, perks of doctor-patient confidentiality, you know? You can spill your guts about your embarrassing personal feelings and they can’t go telling anyone you’re pining over your best friend.” Peter couldn’t help a slight grin at that despite himself. “And usually it would stop you from venting about your crush to a masked stranger, but no luck there, I guess.” His tone was light, so Peter allowed himself a smirk. Harry took another gulp before continuing. “Anyway, doesn’t mean they won’t force their opinions on you. Zie’s been telling me I should suck it up and tell you how I feel for, like, ever.”

“Maybe you should’ve listened,” Peter teased.

“Right,” Harry said, “because I was the only obstacle in our relationship.” Peter stuck his tongue out and Harry laughed. It died down after a moment and he looked at Peter through his lashes. “I — can tell hir, right?”

Peter tried to bite back a smile and instead found himself grinning so wide he thought his face would crack. “Yeah. Yeah, absolutely.”

“That we’re ... dating,” Harry said.

“Yeah, Har,” Peter said, still grinning.

A smile crept across Harry’s face. “Boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend,” Peter returned in a disgustingly lovesick voice. Harry didn’t seem to mind. Then something occurred to Peter. He shifted his feet. “You’re, uh, not gonna—?”

Harry rolled his eyes before he even finished. “No, Pete, I am not going to tell my therapist that I’m dating Spider-Man.”

Peter laughed. “Right.”

“I mean,” Harry shrugged, “I’m the Green Goblin’s son. I don’t think anything would surprise hir at this point.”

He snorted and took Harry’s hand, gently tugging him onward.

They were sitting in front of the blank TV one night, their movie long finished, Peter’s head in Harry’s lap as Harry wove careful fingers through his hair when Harry spoke out of nowhere.

“I wanted to kiss you that night.”

Peter stared up at him. “What night?”

“You know. The last good night.”

Somehow, Peter did know.

It was back before everything with Doc Ock, before Peter had really started to pull away from Harry. sure, they had seen each other a handful of times after that and had a perfectly pleasant time, but that night stuck out, somehow ingrained in his mind.

They had walked around the city together all night, drinking an expensive bottle of something Harry had grabbed on his way out after he called Peter out of the blue to ask if he wanted to hang out. He hadn’t sounded upset or anything, but Peter didn’t need an emergency to spend time with Harry, not then. It was rare for Harry to want to get drunk given his history, but Peter trusted him to know his own limits. They had strolled the streets for hours, then stumbled, passing the bottle between them until they were laughing so hard they couldn’t breathe, and then past that, to that quiet that felt equally as warm. Peter remembered how their hands kept brushing, the butterflies in his stomach that the alcohol allowed him to enjoy rather than overthink about. He remembered how they sat too close on the bench when the two of them finally decided they couldn’t stand anymore, fingers never quite touching. He remembered whispered words, ordinary conversation that felt so momentous then. And finally the sunrise. The orange glow painted everything around them, but they were looking only at each other the entire time.

The scene was so sharp in Peter’s mind. Maybe he’d finally been sobering up.

This was what he remembered: Harry, with his head in Peter’s lap.

Harry, with his half-lidded eyes so clear and focused, never once leaving Peter’s face.

Harry, warm and alive and Peter swore he still felt the echo of Harry’s heartbeat against his own skin. And all around them, the world waking up, the sun dancing on every surface including Harry’s face.

It was so surreal to think that Harry had wanted to kiss him then, too. He couldn’t believe he felt so nervous around him even now, now that he knew how Harry felt about him, that he felt as much as Peter did. But knowing that his feelings were reciprocated only seemed to make Peter’s heart hammer faster whenever he thought about him.

“You can kiss me now to make up for it.”

“You shouldn’t keep it all separate, you know,” Harry told him quietly after two weeks, Peter with his mask off behind the closed door of Harry’s office, having wrecked another of Doc Ock’s plans and come to see Harry with ideas for updates for the disrupter. “It’s not good for you. You can’t always be one or the other.”

He knew that. He was working on it — he really was. Johnny was only too happy when Peter started to invite him out just to eat lunch in a diner or get a coffee together without his mask. He even finally let him come to his and MJ’s apartment for their hangouts. This led to an awkward conversation with Gwen when she happened to be over at the same time one day and Peter was forced to face the very bullshit cover story thing he had been avoiding having to deal with. Johnny proved surprisingly helpful, though, cutting into his babbling with a smooth explanation involving Peter’s Bugle job and association with Spider-Man (though not without slipping in some joke about Peter swooning over him, the celebrity that he was, which Peter quickly protested). MJ and Johnny clicked a little too easily for his liking, but the two of them didn’t seem to talk outside Johnny being at their apartment.

And then Peter suggested Johnny meet Harry. Johnny seemed a little too excited, which was how Peter knew he was already delightedly scheming up new ways to mess with him. Harry just smiled at Peter and told him he was proud of him.

They settled on grabbing a few drinks together, although Peter wasn’t much for alcohol given his metabolism and Harry didn’t often allow himself much these days, despite only recently reaching legal age. They had a good time, anyway, Johnny practically drinking for the three of them, his grin getting steadily more lopsided.

“Hey, listen, I’m not the one you need to be worried about,” he reassured Harry, not slurring too much, when Harry good-naturedly pointed out how close he and Peter were. He put a hand by his mouth to stage whisper, “I think Deadpool has a crush on him.”

Harry raised an eyebrow over his half empty drink, blinking a few times at Johnny. “Deadpool? As in ...” He hesitantly made a motion like swinging multiple swords, seemingly miming murders. Johnny nodded with deep sincerity.

“That would be him.”

“Huh. Fuck.”

Peter looked between the two incredulously. “Guys,” he said with disbelief. “I’m not going to date a mass murderer. He’s … in recovery. I’m just helping him out, okay?”

They looked at Peter, and then back at each other. Johnny raised an eyebrow at Harry and Harry gave Peter a once over from the corner of his eye. “Uh huh.”

Peter rolled his eyes.

“I knew I was going to regret this.”

Harry snorted. “Don’t listen to him,” he told Johnny. “You’re cool. He said you were cool.”

Johnny turned to Peter with a shit-eating grin growing on his face. “Oh, did he, now?”

“I don’t know what he’s talking about,” Peter said, and sipped his drink.

He especially regretted it the next day when he woke up from a post-fight nap to a call from MJ he’d answered so automatically that he was barely awake until she yelled in his ear, “ You were fucking serious about being besties with Deadpool ?!”

Granted, it was Peter’s mistake. Of course his friends would all start pooling their knowledge of him once given the chance to connect with the parts of his life he had kept separate from them all this time. MJ hadn’t pried simply because he’d brushed it off so dismissively before — now they could all gang up on him.

But they were getting used to it. Peter knew they would all settle down eventually, once they had enough fun mocking him and it could go back to the normal amount of Parker tormenting. And Peter was making his own discoveries in the meantime.

Dating Harry was ... surprising. Obviously he had never seen Harry from the boyfriend point of view before, and after a lifetime of friendship it was a disorienting change. Much of it was the same: Harry’s usual teasing, the easy back and forth, his bluntness and his impatience when it came to Peter’s idiocy and recklessness. But so much was unexpected, too.

Harry was more romantic than Peter had imagined, insisting on proper dates alongside their ordinary hangouts which had started up again with their old regularity. Peter wasn’t complaining. He took Peter places and was careful not to spend more than Peter was comfortable having spent on him, and Peter organised his own dates in turn.

Harry spent a lot more time staring at him, which Peter noticed because he also allowed himself to stare back. He liked to touch Peter — they’d always touched casually, but it was less restrained now — and yet seemed to be overwhelmed by it. They started sleeping over at each other’s places, and while Harry had a bed large enough for both of them to comfortably stretch out, when they slept at Peter’s they crammed into his single bed the way they used to as kids, curling themselves around each other, bodies slotting together to fit.

And if Peter had ever felt like they were flirtatious before, that was nothing compared to now. Harry flirted shamelessly, always with that smirk, the one that meant trouble, and Peter too often found his face burning. What he enjoyed much more, however, was that somehow, whenever he responded to Harry with an earnest display of affection, the man turned into a flustered mess. Peter never tired of watching the blush rise in his cheeks as he desperately tried to put on an unimpressed face.

And then there was this.

He and Harry were mid-conversation in the living room when Harry dropped the pen he’d been chewing. It rolled under the couch and Peter lifted one end of it entirely off the floor to scoop it back up, still talking. Only when he tossed it back to Harry, it just bounced off his chest as Harry failed to react.

“Oh,” Harry said, not looking away from Peter. “I forgot you’re, uh … strong.”

Peter grinned. “Spider-gig’s got its perks.” His smile faded as Harry just kept staring. “Um. Har … you in there?”

He cleared his throat, finally averting his eyes. “Uh huh, yeah,” he said with a voice that wasn’t quite even, scratching his ear, “fine.”

Peter watched his increasingly pink face.

“Oh, I am liking this.”

“Shut up.”

Peter responded by effortlessly lifting Harry up into his arms.

Overall, Peter didn’t feel like less of an idiot, but at least he’d solved The Harry Problem.