Author's Note: The last chap dealt with our heroes at age 5. The first chapter will skip straight to their trip to the lab in high school. Nothing terribly significant has happened since Peter and Harry met, or if it has it'll be included as a flashback somewhere most likely.

DISCLAIMER: Send no blood-sucking lawyers! I'm not so dense as to believe I own Spidey or any part of his world.

mythical gurl: Thank you! Lol, I couldn't wait for the story to get going either, so since this chappie is rather long I started typing it up almost immediately. So here's chapter one! (gives chapter and bag of sugar cookies)

Gold Silk: Yeah, I like Spidey-slash. Harry and Peter make a cute couple, but it sucks how everyone always writes it so that either Harry is abusive or Peter is atoning for killing Harry's father. (gives big bag of chocolate chip cookies)

Gramma makes the cookies... I can't cook to save my life lol!

Chapter One: A Bite and Food for Thought

Harry snapped out of memories of that first day at kindergarten just in time to avoid smacking into Flash. He occasionally stood up to the guy, but only on Peter's behalf. Mostly he kept himself from getting on the guy's bad side in the first place. Flash just picked on Peter because he was different. And smart, which made Flash look like an idiot.

Not that Flash needs help to do THAT, thought Harry wryly.

His father had just embarrassed him by driving up in the Rolls. Flaunting his money was something Harry never liked to do. He had done it a few times before and whenever he did, people thought he was a snob. Then people tended to ignore him. The problem was, it was never Harry's idea to flaunt the cash. Norman Osborn, his father, was the culprit. The overmuch worry with his son had started after Emily's death, so Harry didn't have the heart to tell Norman to back down. Thus he had offered far less protest than he wanted to about the Rolls. That, in turn, lost him the argument.

Needless to say, Harry wasn't looking to draw more attention to himself. Next to him stood Peter Parker, his best friend, deep in thought. While Peter's attention was elsewhere, Harry took the opportunity to study the other boy's face. Brow furrowed in thought or concern. Blue eyes the shade not long after sunrise, when the canvas of the sky gets its first splash of pale blue paint. Full mouth. Sharp chin, but with just enough remaining baby fat to make Peter look a little younger.

And incredibly sweet and innocent, Harry thought. He had long ago realized he had little interest in girls, and lots in his best friend. Who, in turn, was not interested in Harry, but in his next door neighbor, Mary Jane Watson: coincidentally the most popular girl in school since first grade. And way out of Peter's league, since he was so low on the social ladder.

He saw a side of Peter that other people didn't get to see, though. The side that didn't talk solely about education, college, and science. The side that was fun-loving and carefree. Like when Harry took Peter with him when his dad made him go to Six Flags last summer. Pete had dragged him onto nearly every ride at least three times. Harry also saw the side of Peter that hurt when people made snide remarks about his intelligence, and called him a dork. Being a bit protective of the other teen, Harry often found himself angry at the other students. Maybe it was a good thing that he too was a bit of an outsider.

The teacher snapped both boys out of it by whacking a ruler loudly against his clipboard. He announced that they were going into the lab and that if anyone touched anything in there they would fail his class for the remainder of the year. Then he led them inside.

Staring in awe, Peter rambled to Harry, stating random facts about various objects in the lab. Despite how boring that was, most of the information sunk into Harry's brain because he tried so hard to take an interest. Peter took a few photos for the school paper. Then Harry walked up to Mary Jane. He wanted to talk to her for his friend. Harry was infatuated with the boy, but he wasn't selfish. He did want his best friend to be happy.

Mary Jane stood in front of some of the genetically-altered spiders, bent over to get a closer look at one in a lower row. Remembering a fact Peter had told him, Harry told MJ, " Spiders can change their color to blend in with their environment, you know. It's a..." what was the phrase Peter had used? Oh yeah, "defense mechanism."

The redhead smiled at him. "Really? Cool. I didn't know that. I love spiders. They're so disgusting!" Harry was more than a little bewildered at how anyone could like something that disgusted them. To each his own though, he thought. Or her own, in this case. Before he had a chance to tell her who had taught him the fact he'd just recited, she spoke up again. "So, do you want to have dinner with me tonight?"

Oh boy, thought Harry, glancing at Peter. Thankfully he was distracted just then, talking to one of the scientists who worked in the lab. Before Harry think of a tactful way to turn MJ down, however, she said, "Great. Pick me up at seven. See ya then." And then she was gone.


Harry'd been kind of quiet, and Peter was a little worried about him. One eye peeked through his camera lens at a student posing with the spiders, his other eye was on Harry. He never saw the spider coming, and never felt it crawling on his hand. Peter thanked the student as she walked away. Out of the blue, there was a little stab of pain on his hand.

Yowch! Ei chi wawa, that hurt! He flicked my wrist to free his hand of the little pest. Just in time to catch a glimpse of the spider that bit him, he looked down. Odd. It was dark blue, with a strange red pattern on its back.



6:30 P.M.

It wasn't that far to MJ's, but New York traffic had made it all but impossible to make it there on time, even though Harry had given himself half an hour to get there. He'd spent most of the day trying to justify to himself that he had gone on a date with his best friend's life-long crush. It wasn't too hard. First off, his father kept pushing him to get a girlfriend, someone pretty he could show off for the cameras that followed the Osborns like flies followed dump trucks. Then, there was the incredibly absurd thought that if Peter felt anything for him beyond friendship, maybe he'd be jealous of Mary Jane.

If not, he knew this next thought was childish, at least I get a little revenge.

Eventually the date ended and they reached MJ's house. He dropped her off and went to see Peter, just one door to the right of MJ. A shooting star shot through the sky, just over Peter's house, from where Harry stood. For a moment, he indulged in the childhood habit of wishing on it, and he wished that someday his heart wouldn't feel the lonely ache it did now. With a sigh, the teen ran a hand through his brown and blond curls.

What a mess. I love Pete, Pete loves MJ, and MJ drags ME on a date! God Almighty, what a mess! thought Harry. Inwardly, Harry was miffed at MJ for being shallow enough not to like Peter simply because most people thought he was 'just a geek.' Oh well. If she can't like him for who he is, then she doesn't deserve him. He's too good for her. Pause. Then, Guess I'll go drop in on Peter.

He got out of the car, and made his way toward the Parker house.


Earlier, right after the field trip

Peter rushed in the door, letting his backpack and coat slide down his shoulders to somewhere on the living room floor. He felt like he had a really high fever. Dizzy and drowsy too. He also felt like his stomach was eager to show its disapproval of his lunch. Vaguely, he wondered if he had the flu. That would explain it. Or maybe it has to do with that spider bite.

Through the sickness-induced haze, he recognized the worried voices of his gaurdians. Somehow he even managed to register their words, and make a reply.

"Peter! Are you alright?" asked Aunt May.

"I don't feel good Aunt May."

"Well did you have a good time on your trip?" Uncle Ben spoke up.

Tiredly, "Uh-huh."

Aunt May again, "Well aren't you going to stay for a bite?"

His amusement not coming through in his voice or expression, "Had a bite. I'm going upstairs now. Goodnight."

Then he was upstairs, and slammed his bedroom door shut. Peter lay down on the floor next to his bed, too tired to pull himself up onto it. Suddenly he no longer felt like he had a fever. No, he was freezing instead. So cold. Who turned the air conditioner up so high? No, we don't have an air conditioner. So cold, he thought. He managed to reach up and pull a blanket from his bed, down onto his shivering body. Darkness claimed him.


He knocked on the Parkers' front door, and only had to wait a few seconds for the door to open. May Parker smiled at him. "Hello, Harry. Come in." She stepped aside to allow him passage. When he came in she shut the door behind him. There wasn't a foyer or anything between the front door and the living room, so Harry instantly saw Ben. The older man was sitting on an armchair, flipping through the channels with the detachment of boredom. He looked a bit less bored when he noticed Harry.

"Hello Osborn."

"Hey Ben. Where's Peter? I need to talk to him."

Ben's graying eyebrows furrowed in concern. "He ran upstairs as soon as he got home. Said something about not feeling well."

Harry frowned. "Mind if I go check on him?" Both Parkers shook their heads.

Harry went up to his friend's room, and when he opened the door, he gasped.

Skin a sickly white, shaking like LA in an earthquake, his face contorted with pain, Peter made a frightening sight. Peter's hands clutched a plaid flannel blanket over him, but from the goosebumps on his pale skin it wasn't enough. Harry quickly made his way to the linen closet down the hall, and found a few spare blankets. He went back to Peter's room and set the blankets down for a moment. First things first. That floor had to be uncomfortable. He picked up the smaller teen, princess style. Holding him felt... nice. Peter was still shaking with lack of warmth though, and unconciously tried to lean into the source of warmth that held him. Harry felt his face flush, and he set the still shivering boy on the bed. Then Harry spread the blankets over Peter. In a few minutes, the boy stopped shaking. He still looked incredibly pale, and his facial expression still showed pain, but at least he would sleep a little more peacefully.

Harry took off down the stairs at such a pace that he had to grab the railing twice to keep from taking a nasty tumble. The Parkers must have seen the panic in his eyes, because they asked almost simultaneously what was wrong.

Harry took a deep breath, this time to calm himself. "Peter isn't doing too hot. When I went up there-- well, I think he needs to go to a hospital or something. He's unconcious and he looks like... like he's got hypothermia or something."

May and Ben frowned. "May, call the doctor. I'll carry Peter down and get the car started."

"Oh no you don't, Ben Parker. You're not as young as you once were, and your back isn't in perfect condition as it is. I don't want you throwing your back out again. I'm sure Harry won't mind carrying Peter down to the car for us, right Harry?" May shot him a look that said he better agree. He would have answered affirmatively anyway, even without 'The Look.' Again he climbed the stairs and entered Peter's room. Blankets and all, he lifted the other boy.

As he passed through the living room he heard May on the phone in the kitchen, talking to the family's doctor. Outside, he barely noticed the frigid night air. The afterlight left from sunset revealed that Ben was already in the car. It was running on idle as Harry slid onto the cold backseat of the stationwagon, still holding his unconcious best friend. He had to lean over Peter's head, which was on his lap, to close the door. Peter stirred.

Harry watched intently, as did Ben, both hoping for some sign that Peter was going to be okay. His blue eyes slowly opened, as if even that small movement was a strain on his energy.

"Harry?" he asked, his voice quiet with exhaustion. Peter couldn't help but be puzzled at waking up to find himself looking straight into his best friend's brown eyes. Which revealed concern, Peter noticed as a little of the fog cleared from his mind.

"Hey Pete," Harry's voice was equally quiet, as if he were afraid to shatter the near-silence that hung in the air. "How ya feeling, buddy?"

Peter groaned. "Does it answer your question if I ask if you got the license plate number on that semi?"

"That bad, huh? Well, we're taking you to a doctor." Ben smiled when he heard Harry say 'we.' Though the boy hadn't been invited, the older man knew the two were inseperable, and it would be useless to tell Harry to go home. Not that he wanted him to. May wouldn't let him carry Peter, and he didn't think the boy would be up to walking. Plus the kid might be able to keep Peter distracted at the doctor's office. Peter loathed and feared needles. If the doctor needed to run any blood tests or anything like that, it'd be good for him to have his attention on something other than the needles.

"I'd rather not. I'm starting to feel better already." Skepticism met the latter statement as Harry, Ben and May (who had just entered the station wagon and was up front next to her husband) all started to protest. "No, really. I am."

May gave her nephew The Look and said, "Peter Parker, you are going to the doctor and that is that." Then she turned around in her seat to face forward once more, crossing her arms. The subject was obviously closed to discussion. When May put her foot down, it was best not to argue. "Is everyone buckled in?" she asked, the sternness gone from her tone. Everyone was buckled, with the exception of Peter, who lay across the entire back seat, his head still on Harry's lap. "Let's go then."


As time passed, Peter's strength was slowly returning. His symptoms had faded to being almost gone. Having earlier said something about being tired of laying down and sitting, he now stood, leaning against a wall. Harry stood next to him, in case he fell over like he had a few minutes ago. The doctor was, as Ben had predicted, running some blood tests.

Finally, the man entered the waiting room the small group was in. The doctor's white lab coat billowed behind him as he quickly crossed the room. His face was flushed, as if he had been frustrated, and his glasses were about to fall off his nose. He pushed them back up, and said with frustration, "All the results came up negative, but the symptoms were too strong for you to have merely had the flu, Peter. Are you sure nothing else happened today? Anything. Anything that could have caused this. Think hard."

Racking his brain, Peter came up with nothing...until he remembered the spider that bit him in the lab on the field trip that day. "A spider bit me. I've never seen one like it before. It had odd coloring." The doctor urged him to continue. "It was dark blue, with red markings, and it hurt like crazy when the little bugger bit me. The bite area swelled up pretty good too."

"Where did it bite you?" Peter showed the doctor the bite on his hand. It was pretty good-sized still, and a rather dark pink. "Hmm... I see. Well, that might have done it if you were allergic to that type of spider's venom. Try to avoid that kind of spider from now on. Oh, and don't push yourself tonight. Try to rest. Mrs. Parker, don't let the boy over-exert himself." May nodded. "Well, I'd say it's safe for everyone to go home now."

Harry and Ben supported the still weak Peter as he walked out to the car. He refused to be carried anymore.

Ben let go of his nephew to unlock the car. As soon as the station wagon was unlocked, Harry helped Peter into the back seat, and slid in next to him. Then they started back to the Parker house. When they got there, May asked Harry, "Why don't you two go talk for a while, and I'll put on some tea and snacks."

Upstairs, Peter sat on his bed, and Harry took a seat on the chair in front of his friend's desk. Comfortable silence filled the room a while. Then, "Weird how that spider bite affected me. Wonder if it'll have any other effects."

Now that Peter mentioned it, Harry began to worry for his friend. What if the symptoms earlier were just a prelude to a storm that has yet to come? Harry wondered, biting his lip with anxiety.

"Hey, I didn't mean to make you worry. There probably won't be anything more from it. There won't be. I'm sure of it," Peter said, trying to reassure Harry. "You look tired. You oughtta go home and get some rest."

Harry nodded and moved to exit. In the doorway, he stopped, looked over his shoulder. Worry was still evident in his expressive brown eyes. "If anything happens, call me."

"I will," Peter promised. Harry nodded and left, closing the door behind him.


At the Osborn mansion

Harry strode in, exhausted and ready to fall on his bed and sleep. He trudged across the living room, up the stairs, and passed the open door of his father's study. Norman spent most of his time there. It was his office away from office. Harry doubled back. His eyes widened. His fatigue vanished, for the moment.

What he saw shocked him. Valuable vases lay in piles of shards. Portraits and paintings worth their weight in gold had holes and rips in them. There was a thick, sturdy beer mug lying on the rug, a wet spot in front of it, and a couple of stubborn drops remained clinging to the mug. In the middle of all this mess lay Norman Osborn, unconcious.

This wasn't the first time Harry had seen his father unconcious from too much alcohol. Ever since his mother's death, his father would occasionally drink himself into oblivion. This time was different though. His father had been drunk occasionally, but only became more depressed before passing out. Never had he gone into a rage. Yet from the look of the room, it was obvious he had gotten pretty riled up sometime that night. That worried Harry. He wondered if he should tell Peter. No. Dad didn't hit me. I wasn't here to get hit, but still, he didn't hit me. Besides, Peter has enough on his plate.

Harry closed the door to his father's study, and once again headed for his room. When he got there, despite his exhaustion, he couldn't sleep. Over and over his mind replayed his discovery in his father's study. Norman was a strict man, true, and a drinker sometimes. But never violent. The man's temper always went into words, rather than actions. It wasn't the type of temper that had caused the damage to that room.

I hope.

TBC...