Title: "Showers, Puddles, Umbrellas"
Rating: G
Pairing: Harry/Peter
Disclaimer: These characters and their film incarnations are the sole property of Stan Lee, Steve Ditko, Marvel Entertainment, and Sony Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended, no disrespect is meant, and no profit will ever be made. I'm just a fan who likes to fill in the blanks.
Summary: One-shot; movie-verse; takes place before the events of SM1. Inspiration taken from a challenge posted to the LiveJournal Community "Fandom Memes": "Write a drabble based on your current default icon. No changing it! Any fandom or no fandom at all." Of course, this story well-exceeds the intended length, but I ask your indulgence just this once. (We'll call it a deca-drabble plus four, and leave it at that!)
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Showers, Puddles, Umbrellas
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The thick gray clouds that had threatened all day long had finally come together at the sound of the final bell, so that when Peter Parker made his way to the main exit he was greeted by a sudden downpour, heavy sheets of windswept October rain that made it difficult to even see the sidewalk in front of his school.
Peter sighed, then reached for the pop-up umbrella he had rescued from the garbage can in the locker room. The vanes were intact, but it did have a decent-sized rip in it, right at the crown where the ribs came together. He had a perfectly good one of his own, of course, but in his rush to make the bus he had left it at home. No way would he suffer the humiliation of using that plastic granny-bonnet Aunt May had stuck in his jacket pocket, "just in case".
Cautiously he ventured outside, and stood under the shelter of the overhang with several other students, some of whom were snickering at the sight of Harry Osborn shouting into his cell phone from the bottom of the steps. It was clear just from the color in Harry's face who the person on the other end must have been. The argument with his father had started when he arrived for class that morning, and now it was going into extra innings, with the excitable Harry waving off his waiting limo with an angry sweep of his hand.
"Pete...you coming?" Harry called, briskly striding up to his friend while ignoring the chauffeur waiting behind him, who was standing stock-still in the deluge.
Peter blinked at him. "You walking?" He couldn't be serious. Giving up a ride in a nice dry car, when home was halfway across town?
"Yeah, I am...with or without you." And he took off down the pavement, stomping in the puddles that dared get in his way.
Peter followed him into the storm, struggling to keep up the brisk pace Harry had set, and the tepid spill of rainwater now coming through the hole was soaking his hair down to his scalp. "It's pouring, Harry," he said matter-of-factly, as if his friend really needed the reminder. "Your shoes will--"
"I don't care," Harry snapped. "Let it rain." A chill ran through him then, and he hunched his shoulders in tight under the huge canopy of his own umbrella.
Peter said nothing, just kept on walking, hoping against hope that his books wouldn't get as soaked as his sneakers already were.
"Told him over and over again to stop doing that," Harry grumbled when they stopped at a corner, his eyes watching for the signal to change.
"Doing what? Picking you up from school?"
"No. Sending the limo to pick me up from school. As if I didn't have enough problems fitting in around here already without him having to shove people's faces in it."
"I don't know, Harry." And the truth was, he didn't. Peter would trade his family's problems for Harry's in a heartbeat if given the chance. "New York can still be a dangerous place sometimes. Maybe he's just worried about you."
Harry snorted. "Worried? About me? Yeah...that'll be the day. More like he's keeping tabs on me, as usual." He gave Peter a sideways glance, and Peter could see the anger still lurking behind those dark brown eyes, as if Harry couldn't believe his best friend would defend his father's actions.
"Well, maybe so...but even Uncle Ben calls in when he's on the road, just to make sure I got home alright." When the red DON'T WALK sign began flashing, he added, "He trusts me...but still, it's kind of nice when you think about it."
The light finally changed, but Harry didn't move, and when Peter attempted to get past him Harry grabbed his arm and yanked him back over the curb to get his attention.
"Hey!"
"What?!" Peter shot back, wiggling his nose as another rivulet of water ran down the middle of his face.
Harry took in Peter's drowned-rat impersonation, and pointed above his wet head with a disapproving stare. "Where did you get that useless piece of crap?"
"This? Oh, uh...I...I found it. I sort of forgot to bring mine again." He hoped his inward cringe wasn't too obvious.
"Found it?" Harry eyed him suspiciously before grabbing hold of the plastic handle. "I'll bet. What garbage can did you pull this thing out of?"
When Peter just shrugged, Harry shook his head sadly. "Never mind." He collapsed the offensive device flat and shoved it under his own arm. "C'mon. You can share mine. But if you get pneumonia and die before you help me pass the Physics exam on Friday I'll kick your ass. Got it?"
Peter smirked as he wiped the mist off his glasses. "Got it."
Side by side they walked in comparative silence, shoulders pleasantly bumping and rubbing together, with Peter taking two strides for each one of Harry's. They were nearly halfway there when the sound of a car pulling right alongside them on a wave of water made them jump back, and Harry acted both relieved and annoyed to discover that the culprit was his father's Rolls Royce again. Seemed that the car had followed them the entire way, and when the chauffeur emerged to greet his young master once more it was clear that he would brook no argument this time around.
"Mr. Osborn..." The man's voice was polite, but firm. "Won't you please get inside? Your father is an insistent man, as I'm sure you know...and I don't want to lose my job over this." He reached over and pulled the passenger door open, indicating the back seat with one gloved hand. "Sir?"
Harry rolled his eyes in defeat. Thankfully, one public spectacle was enough for him today. "Alright, Charles...alright. You win. Mind if Mr. Parker here hitches a ride?" He held on to Peter's forearm, whispering "I'm gonna need a referee for later," but Peter wasn't so sure that those Italian leather seats and his dripping clothes would make a good match.
"Uh, no...that's okay, Harry. I've got to make a stop anyway." Peter paused in his lie and looked to the skies. "Besides, I think the sun's coming out." And indeed, the rain had let up considerably, the darkest edge of the storm's front finally giving way. "I'll be fine. Really."
"You sure?" For a moment, Harry looked at him with an almost pitiful expression, then leaned close to gently smooth the rain-soaked hair off of Peter's forehead. "I'll call you later. Let you know who won the war." He gave Peter a sly wink before handing his umbrella over to him. "Here...take it. No need to thank me."
"I wasn't going to."
A laugh burst forth, the first one Peter had heard from him all day. "What would you do without me, huh pal?"
Peter squeezed the warm leather handle tight in his grip and smiled back, bright and genuine. "You mean, other than be home already in dry clothes with a cup of hot chocolate? No idea."
Harry gave him a playful shove before he ducked inside the vehicle. "And get a red one next time," he called back just as the door slammed shut. "They say bright colors are harder to lose."
Peter watched as Harry's car pulled away, watched until the tail lights were indistinguishable from the rest of the traffic on the avenue, then headed back towards the subway, and home.
Uncomfortable as he was, the smile never left his face.
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finis