OOO

"You owe me big time," Peter told Harry without preamble later that evening, when he returned to Harry's penthouse upon the other's behest.

"And why, pray tell, is that?" Harry looked bemused as he caught the newspaper that Peter threw his way.

"Because Jameson is apparently unable to either pronounce or comprehend the name Viridian and it took all I had to convince him to call you that instead of 'the belligerent Dragonfly' or something equally inane."

"Thanks, buddy." He perused the article. "A menace, am I?"

"Join the club." Peter laughed as they ambled down the hallway together.

"So did you tell Aunt May yet?" Harry asked, still looking over the Bugle.

"She already knew! Can you believe it? She was waiting until 'I felt the time was right' or something like that. But I was worried out of my mind for nothing!"

"See? She's a lot more perceptive than you give her credit for."

"At least I don't have to worry about it with her; she won't tell anybody. It's the perceptions of others I worry about," he told Harry, a frown creasing his face. "I mean, Murdock seemed to figure it out easily enough as well. And he barely knows me. What if my identity is more obvious than I think it is? How long will it be until someone figures it out? I could lose MJ, or Aunt May or anybody else that I care about..."

"I won't let that happen," Harry snapped defensively.

"Harry?" Peter's voice grew quiet, startled by his friend's sudden vehemence.

"You have enough to deal with defending the city everyday; you shouldn't have to worry about scum finding out about you and hunting down you or the people you love." Peter quirked an eyebrow at him and Harry flushed furiously as he recalled doing the same only a short time before. "I know, I know. I have a lot to make up for. But that's why I want to help you - and not just in costume either." He looked away for a moment, aware that he might be starting another argument. "Peter, I really wish you would take up my old offer and let me find you a place. Somewhere cleanier than that rat-trap, somewhere more private, somewhere safer. Hell, you could just stay here."

"Harry..."

"Yeah, yeah, you want to make it on your own steam and all of that good junk. Think about it though, Pete. You'll be a lot more secure. And if you stayed with me we would be able to coordinate team efforts a lot more easily," he reasoned aloud to Peter despite the irritating sensation that he wanted Peter close for ulterior motives. He touched Peter's shoulder. "Please, Pete? It would set my mind at ease. And I..." He drew in a deep breath. "I'd feel a lot more comfortable too, if you stayed for a bit. I'd feel safer."

When he felt the pressure of Harry's hand against his arm, Peter felt a tingling in the back of his mind, something like what he'd felt with Gwen Stacy earlier but not quite. It was as if there was something lying beneath the surface of their words and glances, execpt that in her case it mildly alarmed him whereas with Harry it felt familiar. As though it were something he ought to recognize, a sensation he ought to be familiar with, but something was blocking the recollection. A few moments later he realized that somewhere along the way he had ceased breathing and he drew in air with a sharp gasp.

"I don't know, Harry. It seems sudden. Besides - with your reappearance and Viridian's appearance, if we start getting too close couldn't that make people more suspicious?" Harry's face fell and Peter felt unaccountably guilty for something he wasn't sure he'd done wrong. "I'm sorry. I appreciate the offer, really I do."

"No, it's fine. I understand," Harry replied, though his voice betrayed his hurt.

"Maybe, then. Can I think about it?" He shifted awkwardly for a moment, then rummaged through his backpack. "By the way, MJ and I had breakfast this morning..."

"Oh?" Harry struggled to keep his tone neutral. "How was it?"

"Ok," Peter replied, avoiding a more accurate description of their increasingly difficult relationship. "She gave me advice on something for you though. I picked up some stuff after work." He drew a bag out of the pack and suddenly grew nervous; he wasn't sure how Harry would take it. "It's... um... well, here." He shoved it towards Harry who opened it up.

"Make-up?" Harry looked inside and disbelief was etched across his face.

"Don't take it the wrong way!" Peter blurted. "I just thought you might be, you know, uncomfortable. In public. And MJ, being an actress and everything, I thought she might know about what would do a good job of it."

Time seemed to briefly freeze and Peter felt lightheaded. The last thing he wanted was for Harry to take offense or think Peter was implying he was ugly. For the second time in as many minutes, Peter stopped breathing without realizing it. Then Harry turned to him with a smile and a shrug, and all was right with the world once more.

"Sounds good. I don't know how to put it on though."

"I can do that. MJ showed me a bit," Peter grinned. "Want to try it out?"

"Now? I suppose. It's as good a time as any."

They decided to attempt it with Harry sitting in the large office chair and with all of the various cremes, brushes, powders and sponges Peter had brought laid out on the desk.

"Close your eyes and try to relax your face," he told Harry, who complied as he leaned back slightly in his seat.

Before beginning Peter looked at the scars on the side of Harry's face and brushed them lightly with his fingertips. The skin was rough and textured, not at all what a 'normal' cheek would feel like, but somehow there was a rightness to the feeling. Everything wrong between them had come to an explosive conclusion and they were both scarred, inside and out; but they were both still alive, both still connected. Perhaps, Peter mused, that connection was even stronger since they knew they could withstand conflict. Besides, the scars were a lovely imperfection, something that made Harry solid and human rather than some ephemeral ideal that couldn't be captured. They were something unique to Harry, something Peter had created. As for covering them up, it was no insult at all - for who should be allowed to see them in their fullness besides Peter?

"Pete? Sometime today?" Harry interrupted his reverie, nervous at what stirred when the slightly-sticky pads of Peter's fingers stroked his face.

Jumping, Peter nodded and began to prep Harry's face for the foundation. He smoothed, blended and dusted Harry's face in a halting process, wanting to be sure that he did everything correctly, the way MJ and the woman at the counter had told him to; the latter being somewhat condescending at the sight of an obviously clueless male purchasing makeup. While he performed his slow work, Harry Osborn was doing his best to suppress the sensations that wracked his body, fear not the least among them.

Despite the fact that his eyes were closed, Harry knew by the feel of the heat Peter radiated and the touches to his face that Peter was above him, hovering over him; and that idea excited him terribly. Moments after he realized that it did, a cold dread settled in the pit of his stomach as his body forced him to face a fact he would rather ignore. Heated blood rushed, up and down, and he wanted to stay and to bolt at the same time. If he moved he would be bereft of what he was enjoying so much; but was that fair to Peter? To be gaining subconcious pleasure from an act Peter was doing innocently, to help him? It felt like a betrayal, somehow.

Besides, if he did move he might be letting on more than he would like. Peter would want to know why and Harry didn't trust himself to have control enough to keep the truth from tumbling out. Then Peter would suffer even more, would probably push Harry away and put himself at risk in doing so. It would complicate everything: their friendship, their mutual relationship to Mary Jane, the secrets Harry knew and had to keep but which Peter might doubt he would if he scorned Harry. Would he keep them? His heart thudded and he decided that the best answers to any questions were for them not to be asked at all.

There was one question that he stopped to consider, however. Only he could answer it yet he didn't seem to be able to pin down a definite conclusion. Since when had he loved Peter Parker in such a way? Was it a recent development, as if being dead somehow made him gay as well? That seemed absurd to say the least. Was it something that stretched back all the way to high school? Something that the madness and freedom of the Goblin Formula finally allowed him to admit to himself? Did it develop after the persistant inhibition that was his father was removed? Perhaps after finding out that Peter was Spider-Man, some type of demented loathing conflated with hero worship until attraction, of any sort, ran too deeply to ever be reconsigned to mere friendship again?

His mind went back to the night of the fight, the night he 'died'; Harry remembered how he had hesitated to go into a freefall attempting to save Mary Jane. With Peter's life, however, there had been no hesitation or deliberation. When it came down to Peter or himself the choice was no choice at all. Wasn't that the line between love and infatuation?

"Done!" Peter declared all of a sudden and Harry opened his eyes. Peter was holding a mirror in front of him, allowing him to inspect. "Took me a bit to match your skin color but I think I managed."

The discoloration had been blended over and the mottling was mostly gone. His more prominent scars were still visible but from a distance it was not so bad. Peter had done the job so well that it was difficult to discern that he was even wearing makeup. Lowering the mirror, Harry gave him a tacit smile of approval.

"It's a good job," he said. "But how can I accept your generosity when you won't take mine?" It was, perhaps, a subtle manipulation. But in some ways it accurately reflected how Harry felt. He didn't want to have Peter going the extra mile for him and refusing to accept a hand when Harry offered.

Peter sighed. Harry was relentless - and to be honest, the apartment grated on his nerves more than he would have cared to admit. The outburst against Mr. Ditkovitch when he was wearing the black suit was only the most visible manifestation of his overall frustration. Would it really be so bad, to accept a break for once?

"I suppose I can think about it. Seriously." He smiled. "And... probably." He gave Harry a hesitant smile and Harry flashed a smile broader than Peter had seen in a long time.

"You'll stay tonight?" He asked, eyebrows raised, half-hoping he would and half-fearing that he would read too much into every little action Peter did. Peter nodded his consent and Harry's smile returned "Fantastic. Bernard has the room prepped already. You can go there after dinner."

For Peter it was a somewhat usual feeling, to have a place to go to where he was expected and where a welcome was waiting. It wasn't unlike Aunt May's place, a haven that he knew he could go to, but eons away from the solitary, broken down apartment where all that was waiting were incessant demands for rent. Strange to think that only a couple months ago Harry refused to even speak to him. Yet Peter did not pause to wonder about the warmth of his reception.

After all, what else would one expect of a best friend?

They sat down in the kitchen and Bernard served them a light dinner of some sort of pasta with pesto sauce. Harry sat trying to think of something to break the silence and distract himself from thoughts of what Peter living with him might mean.

"I met Penny Marko today," he offered. "At the hospital."

"Oh?" Peter looked slightly surprised.

"Yeah. Sweet kid. Wish I could help her."

"Don't we all - not sure we can though."

"I asked her if we could talk to her dad if possible."

"Flint?"

"Yes. Don't know how he'll take it or if she can even find him. But I figured it would be worth it to get in touch with him. She did a lot for you that night and I'd like to see if there isn't anything that could be done. And as for Flint, well..." he gave Peter a slight smirk. "It's always better to have friends than enemies."

Peter grinned. "I totally agree."

"Un-hunh. So basically, I'd like to help her as much as I can. Him too, if he'll let me."

They rest of the meal passed with small talk and chatter, a repast that was for Peter infinitely less awkward than the one he'd experienced that morning. When they were through, they put the dishes into the sink and Peter stumbled off to a bed more comfortable than the one that normally awaited. Harry smiled as he watched the door closed then forced himself to turn away; he had to be careful, so careful. It was a tough blow, coming clean with Peter about everything for the first time only to realize there was one more secret that needed to be kept.

But what else could he do?

He went and climbed into his own bed, wondering for a moment what it would feel like to have another body in the bed with him, close to him. A presence that could comfort him.

And then another presence did enter the room, only the emotion it produced was far from comforting.

Harry... How could you. You disgust me.

He tried to shut his ears against it and nearly wailed with despair. It couldn't start again. Not him, not now, please anything but that...

OOO

A/N: And with that it will end on a bit of a cliffhanger. Sorry for the chapter delay - I wanted to do Harry's realization appropriately. Also, I finally got a copy of the novelization and wanted to try and incorporate some of it. So there you have it; the exhumation scene is coming but I shifted plans a little on it. But that's for another chapter. I hope you enjoyed and as always I appreciate any and all input. :)