Chapter Five: In Which Peter Makes A Confession and Hiro Insults the Closet

*TIME SKIP: ONE MONTH AND THREE WEEKS LATER* (A/N: i.e., two months after Harry's arrival. I'm assuming there's four weeks to the month, whichever month this is… I didn't have one in mind. – Lucky)

True to his old habits, Hiro still liked perching in the highest place he could find, which was a lot easier now that he was a cat, and no one looked twice at him when he climbed the furniture. But when Peter stumbled into his room with injuries and an exhausted expression on his face, he lithely made his way down from where he had been working on his balance on top of the headboard post to meow at him from the bed. The teenager himself chose instead to sit down, hard, on the thin carpet and look Hiro wearily in the eyes, chocolate brown meeting brilliant green.

He had a split lip he'd managed to slip past Aunt May and a small bruise on his cheek. Knowing Peter, it had probably been explained away as falling down the stairs. "Do… are you ever… have you ever just had a confusing day?" he stumbled over the question, round doe eyes looking at Hiro with a lost feeling. "Not bad, just… confusing." His eyebrows drew together, wrinkling his forehead, and Hiro was glad that the woman of the house had called up that they needed eggs and she was driving to the store.

Some things, as he knew perhaps too well, were just between two people. Or, in this case, one person and a wizard-turned-cat. Even though Peter had no clue about Hiro's past life as Harry – and Hiro wasn't going out of his way to communicate that – he'd recognized an unusually intelligent kit and tended to talk to him as if he was a small, four-legged, furry person.

"'Cause I just had a really confusing day," the boy continued. He paused. "I'm gonna make a list."

Hiro almost groaned. His "owner" was one of the most ridiculously organized people he'd ever met when it came to certain things. Not including his room. But his backpack was full of color-coded notecards and individual plastic portfolios for each class. Peter also seemed to think that lists solved everything, which Hiro could openly admit made some things easier, but made the phrase "I'm going to make a list" a very familiar one.

Shifting positions, Peter leaned his elbows forward to prop against his knees, a stretch for anyone who wasn't a dancer, a gymnast, or Spider-man. "I mean, there was a lab in science, which was great, but my wonderful partner was afraid of the fake germ solution, so I did it."

Normal.

"Spent lunch in the library, eating in the corner, hiding from the librarians."

Sadly, normal. Hiro made a note to himself to crash Peter's lunch break sometime.

"Back to class, and I… I overheard this conversation. Flash and one of the Goonies, I don't know, Kong? King? Anyway, they talk loud and seem to think no one can hear them." That was typical for the arrogant jock-types, he knew, but something else seemed to be bothering the teen. He hadn't seen him around anybody other than his aunt and Hiro himself, but he wasn't usually this dubious or shaken. Well, perhaps not too shaken, he wasn't hyperventilating or anything, just like he made some big discovery.

The cat did his best to offer silent support and an understanding presence through his intrigue. "They… were talking about these girls. And I know these girls, they're popular, pretty, bubbly, and air-heads sometimes."

A small snort accompanied the observation. Hiro was the only one he'd say stuff like that around, and the black animal knew it.

"They kept saying stuff… stuff 'bout how one was hot and the other was cute, dates, icky dirty junk about knocking one of them up…" Both fourteen-year-olds grimaced. "… and I was sitting there, and I really was trying to ignore them and be disgusted at the same time, which meant I was thinking and just realized that – well, I've never been like that." Peter stopped for a breath and glanced at – what he considered to be – his pet.

The look he got conveyed a message clearly: "So?"

Leaning back, he found himself laying on top of his jacket, arms stretched up in such a way that his white shirt – which had seen better, more white, days – rode up and exposed a sliver of skin above his jeans. Hiro knew his eyes were lingering, so chose the better option of bounding down to join him and laying like a dark, fuzzy log between where his arm had come to rest and his abdomen. He looked up with virescent irises. "I've never been like that, like them, even before the stupid spider. People'd talk about crushes and kissing girls, I'd just nod and go along with it whenever they rarely included me. But it never appealed to me."

This was starting to sound familiar to Hiro. Not exactly, but similar enough to his experience. Abruptly, he pushed himself to his feet and got up with a bit of a skip in his step onto Peter's chest, laying there curled and purring reassuringly. "The girl thing," Peter reiterated. "I've never really been attracted to girls… I'm gay."

His hand stroked along the ridge of fur softly, lightly as if all was well, yet the purring ball knew his fingers shivered. Despite seeming okay, despite knowing he was different in more ways than Spider-man and knowing he didn't like ladies that way, saying all this aloud was taking a toll on his emotions. A toll which Peter was inclined to deny adamantly. Hiro did the one thing he knew would help and continued to provide support in the ways he could; a warm body with a soul that didn't judge inside could help more than anyone knew. Don't try to change him. Don't talk at all. Not that he could. Simply be there for him. That, he could do.

"I've… never said that out loud," the mutate partially chuckled. "It's weird the first time." The kit chuffed under his hand, which had come to rest on his back with a comforting weight. He knew what he meant. The first time Harry had admitted it to himself, then to someone else, was fresh in his mind now. Unfortunately, it was something he'd like to forget, alongside the accompanying mortified blush.

As the warm hand removed itself, he stopped his rumbling purr in slight disappointment and complied when Peter tapped his fingers to get him off his chest, leaving a fading heated spot. The two sat up straight, facing each other, though Hiro was significantly shorter due to being, you know, a cat.

"You're the only one who knows," he informed him with an odd combination of relief and sorrow. "I… think I'm going to keep it that way… I'll stay in the closet, for now." Hiro simply cocked his head silently, though an inaudible grumble broke it as his thoughts drifted to his time in his own ruddy cupboard. The closet wasn't a place for anyone to live and a very bad place to kip in. But his inaction seemed to remind Peter who he was talking to. "Ah, heck. I'm talking to a cat. Not like you'll tell anyone." The brunet shot the animal one last glance, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smile. "Yeah, don't know if you even understand me." Hiro managed an affronted countenance and stalked off, tail twitching back and forth in his amusement and annoyance.

Later that night, the midnight kit found his way into Peter's room and curled up in the discarded hoodie by the bed. Featherlight purring filled the room to any sensitive ears, waiting for Spider-man to slip back in the window, into bed.

Okay, so, lots of stuff and me trying too hard to use British slang when Hiro's thinking. I live in Seattle, not Surrey. So, I am very sorry if I offend any real British people out there, I'm trying my best. I get it all off the internet, so blame the Harry Potter Wiki.

Anyways, Peter came out to Hiro, though that was mostly him just needing to talk and say it all out loud. As noted before, Peter doesn't know Hiro's an actual guy in a cat's body. He just needs a non-judging ear, and I know a lot of people who talk to their pets. Heck, I'll do that to any animal that sticks around me (Ex. My late dog, Max; my friends' cats and dog, Snoopy, Lillian, and Lucy; the horses at the end of our road that I used to take riding lessons on, Roo, Sheelan, and April; etc.). They don't seem to care as long as I keep stroking them. I should stop talking…

Lucky (was feeling talkative when she wrote this A/N… obviously)