A/N: I've decided, for the readers sake in interest, I would do intervals. So maybe, updates every two months in their relationships. Let me know if you guys like this idea or not with this chapter. :) My job is to make you, the reader, happy.
Chapter Eleven
"Kiss me, if you want to be loved."
—Kiss Me by Ed Sheeran
Two Months After Harry Being Held Hostage
Peter knew that their first fight as a couple would happen eventually. It was inevitable, the calm could only go for so long. It hadn't felt calm and peaceful at home either. He could feel the tension in the air and he wasn't sure what to do about it. He refused to confront Harry about it at work because that was unprofessional, but at home when he tried, Harry always smiled ant told him he was fine, even if it was a forced smile and a clipped tone. Peter wasn't oblivious when it came to the most important person in his world.
"Dammit, Harry," Peter said, slamming his cup down on the counter, "What the hell is wrong? If I did something, then tell me. I'm not a mind reader. If I hurt you, or if I did something that pissed you off and I didn't realize, tell me. I want to make it right."
Harry looked back at him with owlish eyes, before any emotion was closed off behind the familiar Osborn glare. "The fact that you don't know, is exactly why I am not telling you."
"So you're just going to leave me in the dark here? Harry, when people come to you and ask you for what they did wrong so they can apologize and make it right, typically the person tells them."
"You should know, Peter," Harry hissed. Actually hissed.
Peter had no patience with Harry's mind games, "I'll be at Aunt Mae's, call me when you're being reasonable."
Harry said nothing.
Peter packed a bag with some clothes and work clothes that would last a couple of days. He wasn't sure how they would manage at work, but he figured he could lock himself in the labs and run experiments with some of his new work friends.
He left the manor in a huff and asked for Phil to drive him back to his old stomping grounds. Phil nodded, concern clear in his eyes, before sitting in the driver's seat.
"Peter, I can't help but ask you why you look so troubled?" He asked, almost apologetically.
Peter sighed, "Harry and I fought tonight, I don't know what I did wrong, he refused to tell me because he's stubborn and prideful, so I left."
"Ah, I see." Phil was quiet for a long couple of minutes, "I remember when my partner and I fought for the first time."
Peter looked up at him, "You're gay?" He mentally face-palmed, "I'm sorry, obviously I don't have a problem…I just…assumed. I'm sorry."
Phil laughed, amused, "Not to worry."
"What did you and your partner fight about?" Peter asked.
"I had joked about our sexual life in front of him with a friend, and he was offended by it, and rightfully so." Phil replied.
"How did you make up?"
"I apologized to him, after I made sure I knew I was in the wrong, and I made sure not to blame it on me being a bit tipsy, I am very grateful he forgave me."
"How do I ask for forgiveness, when I'm not even sure what I did?"
"You're a smart young man, something tells me you might just figure it out. We're here."
Peter looked out the window, and sure enough, he was.
He thanked Phil and walked up to the familiar house and used his key to let himself in. Aunt Mae was in the kitchen fixing herself a cup of tea.
"Hi Aunt Mae," Peter said.
She turned to face him, "Hello darling. Where's Harry?"
"He won't be visiting tonight," Peter replied.
"Is everything alright?" She asked, concerned.
"No, not really. We fought tonight," he said.
"About what, dear? Come sit." She said, gesturing to the dining table.
"I'm not even sure. Apparently I did something that upset him, and I asked him to tell me because I really don't have a clue, and he won't tell me, so I left."
Aunt Mae frowned, just a bit, before giving him a soft smile, "The heart grows fonder when it comes to distance, and the brain will search for answers. Something tells me that brain of yours know what's wrong. Why don't you take a couple days off of work and relax."
Peter smiled, "Okay Aunt Mae, thank you, I love you, but I'm going to sleep, alright? I'll see you in the morning."
"Good night, my boy," she said affectionately.
Peter kissed her forehead and went to his room, a bit of nostalgia overcoming him when he walked in. He peeled off his clothes and changed into a pair of running shorts and laid under his covers after turning off the light. He sat in the darkness, unfamiliar with the feeling of being alone. He was so used to a warm body beside him to help lull him to sleep.
It was going to be a long night.
When Peter woke up the next morning, it was nine in the morning, and despite feeling rested he felt restless at the same time. He groaned, but got out of bed to shower and change into a pair of pants and a t-shirt. He shuffled out of his room to the kitchen to smell the home-cooked breakfast. Eggs, bacon, and muffins. He grinned, his aunt had made comfort food. He padded into the room and kissed her cheek, "You're probably the best human being I know."
She laughed, handing him a plate and shooing him away for him to go sit and eat. He chuckled and sat down at the table and began eating. His mouth had watered from the smell, but nothing compared to the taste. He ate, and got seconds, until he felt delightfully food and ready to be put under a food coma. He helped with dishes, shooing his aunt away when she tried to help.
Three days after his first morning back in his childhood home, he had been reading a book when his brain has a light bulb moment. "Oh, for Christ's sake, Harry," Peter groaned.
He checked the time on the clock and figured if he left now, Harry should be back home from work. He called Phil, packed his belongings, and left a note for his aunt. By the time he had finished everything, Phil was out front waiting for him, idling by the curb. He waved to the friendly driver, "Hey."
"Hello, it's been a while. It certainly is nice to see you smiling again, well, a smile in general," he said.
"Harry been a jerk to you?" Peter asked.
"A bit, but I don't take it personally. He is alone and unhappy, it is very hard to smile in those circumstances. I guess you figured out why he is angry with you?"
"Yes, finally," he replied. They both got into the car.
"Is it too personal to share?" Phil asked.
Peter frowned just a bit, "I fear it might be."
"Then don't say a word. You won't get into trouble for not saying anything."
Peter smiled, "Is that a spin-off of President Calvin Coolidge's quote?"
"It is indeed, I am impressed you know it. Not many do," Phil said, surprise clear in his tone.
Peter grinned, "Yeah, well, I'm full of surprises: knowing quotes of less recognize Presidents and pissing off my boyfriend."
Phil chuckled.
When Phil dropped Peter off in front of the manor, he walked into the house quietly. He looked in the study first to find it empty, the living room to find the same result, and finally the bedroom to see his love underneath the covers sniffling. His heart clenched just a bit before he quietly set his belongings down on the floor and moved to the bed, sitting down on the edge. Harry tensed, and looked up blotchy faced and red eyed at him.
Peter kept his hands to himself for the time being, no matter how bad he wanted to wipe Harry's tears away. "Harry, you do know you are singlehandedly the most handsome, charming, and sought out after man in New York, right?"
Harry shrugged.
Peter sighed, "Well, I find you to be the most attractive and beautiful person I know, and honestly, you have no idea what you do to me. Just because I'm not ready for sex doesn't mean you don't make me feel like a goddamn fifteen year old who has raging hormones. You need to talk to me about this, love. We're both not ready for this, me because I'm wanting to make sure this lasts, and you because you have to be secure in our relationship. Yes, you are beautiful, and you in sweat pants and a t-shirt is a huge turn on for me because I find you to be the sexiest human being. Just because I don't want to have sex just yet, doesn't mean I don't find you to be attractive."
Harry looked away, "Stop being so goddamn logical," he mumbled.
Peter smiled, sensing no mirth behind his words. He gently nudged Harry back to look at him, "I love you, and I really missed you."
"I missed you too," Harry mumbled.
Peter leaned down to kiss Harry. He kissed his forehead, cheeks, nose, and finally his lips to taste all of his boyfriend.
Harry returned the kiss easily, his hand moving to hold Peter's neck. Peter pulled away briefly to lie down beside Harry. After another sweet and languid kiss to familiarize with each other's smell and taste again, Harry snuggled up next to him. "Don't leave like that. I'll try not to be as stubborn and tell you what's wrong when I feel like that again."
"Of course, darling," Peter said back, sealing his promise with a kiss to Harry's forehead.
