OOO
"So you stayed in that all day?" Peter gave Harry an amused look when he met him at the elevator, still wearing the same outfit he wore that morning only with paint smudges all over it.
"You just wish you could go to school in your pajamas," he replied, before leaning in to kiss Peter.
Peter deepened the kiss, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply. When Harry finally broke away, he noticed Peter's bemused expression.
"What's with the smile?"
"You smell nice." His eyes opened and he tugged Harry closer. "Like linseed oil."
"It's from the paint."
"I know." He buried his face in Harry's shirt. "I love the scent of it."
"Well then," Harry wrapped his arms around Peter, "I promise I'll never switch to watercolors or tempera."
"Better not." Peter kissed him on the cheek then pulled the DVD he'd purchased earlier out of the plastic bag. "I got something for us to watch tonight."
"Cool. What is it?"
"Some new movie based on a graphic novel. Gerard Butler and Dominic West are in it I think, but those were the only names I recognized. Lots of killing, guys walking around in their underwear, crazy monsters - sounded like a fun time."
"Sounds likes an afternoon on the job," Harry laughed, taking the DVD from him and glancing at it. "You want to eat first or straight to the entertainment center?"
"I could go for some dinner."
"Nothing's made yet - you want to cook something with me or order in?"
"Whichever you prefer," Peter shrugged, slipping off his backpack and tossing it into the hallway closet as he hung up his jacket.
"I think we'll order, then. I'm still kinda tired." He gestured towards the canvas set up in the corner of the great room. "Want to see how it's coming?"
"Yeah." Peter walked over with him and looked it over. "Is this it?" He teased.
"Hey!" Harry punched him in the shoulder. "I've been working on it all day. I barely got beyond the under-painting and his wings."
Peter gazed at the portrait for a long moment; the body was only sketched in, but the wings were well on their way. They took up much of the painting, a magnificent spread with light blue shadowing giving them a ruffled texture. Though they were still in an early stage, already Peter could see that Harry was managing to capture the sense of musculature that lay beneath the feathered appendages.
Even in its early state, it showed a great deal of time and effort; despite his limited artistic sensibilities, Peter recognized it as the work of someone with a passion for what he did.
"Those are looking good. Why'd you start on them before the body?" Peter studied the painting as Harry screwed the tops onto tubes of paint and picked up palettes and brushes, taking them into the nearest bathroom to wash them off.
"Have to. The white paint I used for them has less oil than the rest of the paint I'll be using. It's a principle of oil painting - fat over lean. Could you grab the thinner and follow me?"
"Sure." Peter picked up the container. "So what was that fat thing you were talking about?" He inquired, trying to urge on Harry's enthusiasm.
"Fat over lean. It's how you work with oil paints. You see, first you gotta prep the canvas for painting. You outline the picture so you know what you're doing. And then you need to paint in layers, with the layers of paint with the least oil first. This is because the oil sinks down as it dries; if you put the heavy oils down first, your lighter layers are going to crack."
"Makes sense," Peter nodded, standing aside as Harry cleaned the brushes using the thinner, followed by soaping and rinsing them. "I'm guessing a lot of the reasons for what you do go back to basic chemistry."
"Maybe; but you know how bad I am at that." Harry smirked as he dried the brushes with a few old rags. "And now I've got to wait a couple of days for that to dry and then I can begin on the next layer."
"Well I think it's going to be fantastic." Peter clapped him on the back and squeezed his shoulder.
"Speaking of chemistry and outdoing oneself - how's the formula coming for Penny?" Harry washed the last of the paint smears off of his own hands, his rigorous scrubbing betraying his agitation about the subject. "The sooner she starts healing, the better."
"We should be ready to do another test run. I've already made samples of the formula and loaded them into the chamber." Peter leaned against the wall and began fidgeting with one of the towels hanging off to the side of the sink. "If I've calculated everything correctly, which I may or may not have, given how blindly I'm moving forward on this, then it should be much less psychologically traumatizing and may even provide a bit more of a physical edge. It should also be a little more subtle in its workings and traces of it should disappear from the body more quickly."
"Do you think it's ready to be tried?" Harry lathered his hands again as he looked over at Peter.
"Hard to say; I don't want to commit to anything until we've tried it. Remember the second trial run? I completely messed up on the aggression calculations; the mice were practically foaming at the mouth to tear each other apart. "
"Yeah... but that was when you started. I'm sure you've improved by now."
"Well, we'll see. Maybe test it after dinner?"
"No problem." Harry dried his hands off and went into the great room to get his cell phone off of the desk. "So what do you want to eat? Pizza? Chinese?"
"Chinese sounds good. We can eat it while watching the movie."
"The usual, then?" Harry searched through his phones address book to find the number of their favorite Chinese place.
"Actually, lets skip the Mongolian beef tonight; why don't we try the General Tso's chicken?"
"Can do. A few egg rolls, rangoons, the General Tso's for you and chicken with cashews for me."
"Get some soup too."
"Wonton or egg drop?"
"Wonton."
"Got it." He hit the button to dial. "I'll just be a second," he whispered as it rang. "If you want to get into something more comfortable, go right ahead."
With a nod, Peter went to his room and switched his button down shirt for an older t-shirt and his jeans for flannel. He re-entered the room just as Harry was hanging up.
"It'll be here in about forty minutes. I'll give Bernard the money and he can take it from the delivery guy since we're both a little under-dressed," he smirked, as if wishing they were even less clothed. "Until it's here, care to start watching the movie?"
"Sure."
Peter buried himself under a throw while Harry talked to his butler then set up the machine, leaving them in darkness and scooting under the blanket with Peter.
"Harry!" Peter glared at him. "You're hogging! There's not enough blanket to cover both of us!"
"Well then you'll just have to get on my lap, won't you?" Harry grabbed Peter by the waist and pulled him onto his lap, rearranging the blanket one Peter as situated on his legs.
"Uhn," Peter grunted as he wiggled around, trying to get comfortable.
"See? Now we both fit under it."
"Harry, I'm going to crush your legs if we sit like this for two hours!" Peter laughed while the previews played.
"Fine," Harry slid him off unceremonious and jumped to his feet. "I'll just get more blankets then."
Moments later Peter found himself buried under a pile of various fabrics next to an equally buried Harry.
"Enough blanket for you?" Harry grinned as Peter tried to glare. Suddenly, Peter's eyes grew wide.
"Harry!" He gasped. "Harry, what are you doing under there?"
"Nothing," he teased, sliding closer. "You know you've lost a button on your flannel pants."
"I know Harry, they're old, Harry stop that - watch the movie Harry!" Peter tried to scoot away but Harry kept moving with him. Soon they were backed up against the arm of the couch.
"Gotcha now," Harry grinned. He grabbed Peter by the wrists, rubbing little circles around his spinnerets before giving them a quick kiss. At the touch of his flesh, though Peter didn't mean for it to happen, a line of webbing squirted out.
'You're terrible," Peter breathed, feeling Harry's hands move south, working the elastic waistband down.
"What can I say? It's been a long day; I missed you." He gave the flesh between Peter's chin and neck a nip.
"Harry, I was only gone for a few hours; probably less than ten." Peter cast Harry a skeptical glance.
"Exactly." Harry pressed a kiss to Peter's temple then pulled the blankets further around then, diving underneath them as Peter twisted around, trying to see what was on the screen.
"What're you doing down there?" Peter asked suspiciously as he watched a guy get kicked into a pit. He could feel layers of fabric shifting around and looked down when he felt Harry's fingers on his hips. "Having an appetiz-ooooh..."
Feeling like he was melting from the heat of Harry's mouth, Peter bunched the blankets into his fists. His muscles twitched and, in the space of a few minutes, they were underneath all of the blankets in a pile on the floor. Harry rolled them off with a twist of his torso, narrowly missing the coffee table in the process, and Peter, who'd ended up on top, managed to pull Harry's own pants and boxers down around his ankles.
Though he could barely see Harry's face, Peter knew he was grinning. Sliding his hands underneath Harry's t-shirt, Peter lowered himself and pushed into Harry. Harry responded by slowly licking the flesh on Peter's wrists, making a sticky mess of webbing on the quilt that was beneath them. When they eventually finished and worked up enough energy to make it back onto the couch, Peter cuddled into Harry who had a smug expression on his face.
"See? This works out perfectly." He winked. "And the food will be coming in just a bit too, which is good - I don't know about you but I've worked up an appetite."
Peter gave him a light-hearted smack. Bernard came in with the food only a few minutes later and left it, along with plates and utensils, giving the two flushed friends a knowing glance. Satisfied, Peter leaned against Harry as they ate and occasionally fed each other, his mouth curved in a smile.
Not longer after, however, as they watched the movie his expression faded and grew rueful.
"Something wrong?" Harry looked down at him.
"It's nothing," Peter shrugged. "I just... I wish we could do this in public."
"Have sex?" Harry quirked an eyebrow.
"No!" Peter glared. "You know what I mean. Go places. Watch movies. Hold hands. Cuddle."
Harry fell silent for a bit; he knew what Peter would say if he pressed the issue.
"I understand," was all he replied. That did not, however, stop him from ruminating on the matter all through dinner and the rest of the movie and during the cleanup. Peter had fallen asleep while they were watching so Harry decided to forgo waking him up, deciding that they could run any tests in the lab the next day.
He let Peter rest on the couch while he disposed of the empty boxes and took the plates and utensils they'd used to the sink. Then he came back for Peter and, finding him still asleep, picked him up and carried him into their bed. As Peter dozed, Harry looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. Then he went to his drawer, pulled out a fabric tape measure and slipped it around Peter's fourth finger. He made a mental note of the measurement before heading to his computer to do a little research while Peter slept.
He'd had enough of waiting; if concern for Harry's reputation and business was all that was holding Peter back, then Harry decided that he himself would make the first move and show him how little he was worried about it. When the moment was right, he would prove his love to Peter and to the world, and damn Peter's concern and the consequences.
OOO
"Nothing," Johnny sighed as he tried to ignite. "Absolutely nothing."
"That should wear off in an hour or two; I gave you a fairly low dose." Warren slid off his latex gloves with a snap and disposed of them, along with the needle, in a nearby hazardous waste container.
"What do you plan on giving me?" MJ inquired, still a bit nervous despite Johnny's hopeful results.
"A seventy two hour dosage," Warren replied as he put on a second pair of gloves and filled a second syringe.
"So I'll have to come back every three days?"
"I know, it's not ideal. But it's the best we can do for now. Would you lift up your shirt please?" Johnny glared at him and Warren rolled his eyes. "Just the bottom, I mean, not the whole shirt. I'm going to inject this directly into her uterus."
"Settle down Johnny," MJ replied as she rolled up the fabric, revealing the bump beneath.
Closing her eyes, she allowed Warren to sterilize the skin and inject her without watching, afraid that if she saw the needle entering she would flinch and twist away. Without even knowing it, she held her breath until Warren spoke again.
"Ok. We're done here." Warren looked up at her. "You should probably stay here an hour or so for observation, just in case anything goes wrong."
"What do I do?"
"Relax," Warren smiled. "And let me know if anything feels out of place. My schedule's pretty slow today; I can wait with you if you like."
He did; and despite the somewhat creepy, clinical nature of the lab, MJ was quickly feeling much more at ease. They talked about Johnny's new line of extreme sporting equipment and MJ's acting. Warren told them about the new projects he hoped to make, medicines he was looking into developing. They both talked about common acquaintances and the conversation, inevitably, gravitated towards Harry and Peter.
"You know," Warren mentioned. "I'm throwing a big Christmas party. You two are invited, of course; I'll be sure to add you to the invite list. Think Peter would like to come too? As a guest I mean. I've seen him at a few functions as a society page photographer, but I thought a more personal enjoyment might be in order."
"What? Peter? Why?"
"He knows Harry doesn't he? Harry hasn't come in the last couple years, but my father always extended an invitation to the Osborn household. And if Harry knows Peter is coming he might be more likely to attend - you know, the familiarity of a friend and all." Johnny looked away from Warren so that he wouldn't be tempted to laugh, biting the inside of his cheek so hard he could taste blood. "Harry seems like a guy I'd like to know better; so does Peter for that matter. Besides, I owe Peter for the Spider-Man thing and all."
"Well..." MJ cast a sideways glance at Johnny. "I think it's a very nice idea. Peter would be very grateful and I'd love to see him there."
"Excellent!" He grinned. "Consider it done."
Sixty minutes elapsed and at the end, Johnny was managing to flame on again and nothing adverse had happened to MJ. Warren bid them farewell, with the promise to see them soon to administer another dose. It was only after MJ and Johnny had left that Warren realized he didn't know Peter's home address. It was no matter, though. He supposed it would be easy enough to look up.
As an extra touch, he figured he would hand deliver it, as a way to be extra friendly. Besides, he considered, if he got to know Peter a little better, he might find out more about Spider-Man - maybe even get to meet him, if he played his cards right.
OOO
The next morning, their plans to test the formula were interrupted again, this time by a massive pile-up on one of the bridges going into the city. They responded as quickly as they could; Harry, however seemed to be in over-drive. He put on his outfit more quietly and efficiently than Peter had ever known him to and was in the air almost before Peter could follow him out.
Once at the scene, he was all business as they went around lifting cars off of people, dragging them to safety and putting out all the fires they could. Watching Harry out of the corner of his eye, Peter realized that something was different. There were no snarky comments, no posturing, no showboating - nothing. Not that he'd ever done a lot of that, but everybody had their moments.
Now, however, Harry was all business. He kept going and going, even when his superhuman stamina began to be overwhelmed. Rather than pause, he continued until EMS had the situation well in hand and everybody had been cleared off.
When they got back to the penthouse, as Harry took off his helmet, Peter saw that his face was still set, his jaw clenched and his eyes intensely focused. Looking up at Peter, his gaze softened and he smiled. Still, the image of him, grave and reserved, stayed with Peter.
It was different for Harry, Peter realized. Being a hero wasn't simply a game he was playing with his best friend and lover. It wasn't a mere rush, getting high off adrenaline while feeling self-satisfied from good deeds done. It wasn't about duty or anger or thrills or praise.
This was business for him now, every bit his job as what he did in the conference room - perhaps even more so.
And that, Peter thought to himself as he showered, was perhaps not such a bad development.
OOO