Chapter 8
It was late at night, and yet the troubling events of the day would not leave Harry's mind and let him sleep. No, all he could do was replay all the way Peter had ignored him, repeatedly in his mind. Maybe he'd been too harsh? But Peter had run out on him! Peter had chosen his freaking smartphone over him! Hell, was it too much to ask for someone's undivided attention for thirty minutes?
But… maybe he'd been too harsh. Maybe he'd said something that had made Peter want to leave. Only, he can't really figure out what. He had been talking about himself, so maybe he should have asked about Peter's life more? Hell, maybe Peter had never wanted to meet up with him anyway and had just asked to avoid an awkward situation at Oscorp. That made sense.
His fingers twitch idly for his phone, but Harry resists the urge. He couldn't disturb M.J. She and Gwen were finally going out for a date – an official date – and he couldn't interrupt that. It wouldn't be fair. He wants to talk to her so badly, but he knows he must be patient. M.J. deserves to have a nice date with Gwen – and Harry knows she would throw her plans aside in a heartbeat to help a friend, but he won't let her do that. She was too kind, too selfless.
So, when he opens up his phone, he checks the time as if he weren't already aware of the late hour and puts it back on the bedside table with a huff. He tries to slow down his breathing and counts sheep instead. Why couldn't he just go to sleep and forget it all?
Rap rap rap.
Harry shot up from the bed, alarmed. It sounded as if someone was rapping on the glass doors of his balcony. What in the fresh hell? Was he being robbed – wait, what kind of robber knocks?
With a cautious sway to his step, Harry approaches the balcony and throws open the doors, hoping to alarm his intruder. Instead, he very nearly stumbles backwards as none other than Spider-Man collapses against him. Something is wrong.
"Hey, hey, what happened?" Harry asked, struggling to haul the vigilante away from the balcony. With his spindly limbs and limber body, Spider-Man is much heavier than Harry had imagined. Somehow, they make it to Harry's bed, where Harry props him up against some cushions.
"Bunch of assholes got the jump on me." Spider-Man groaned, clutching his side.
"Okay, just sit tight, all right?" Harry said, "I'm gonna go get a med-kit, okay?"
Spider-Man nods wearily.
Harry rushes into the kitchen and throws open the cabinet as he rummages about for the medical kit. With the kit in hand, he runs back into the room, only to see Spider-Man still sprawled out on his bed. Harry has the thought to pick up the pillow he had thrown earlier, and props it under Spider-Man's head, before busying himself with the med-kit.
"You kept the bobblehead?" Spider-Man's voice sounds surprisingly soft.
"Oh, uhhh, yeah," Harry said, hoping that Spider-Man wouldn't mention that the bobblehead was currently on Harry's bedside table. That would just be embarrassing.
Instead, they fall into a comfortable silence, as Harry sorts through the med-kit and grabs all the essentials. In the meantime, he passes Spider-Man some painkillers and a glass of water, who accepts them gratefully. When he lifts his mask up to drink, Harry can't resist taking a peak, noting the fullness of Spider-Man's mouth and the nice cut of his jaw. When he realises he's staring, he forces himself to look away.
Instead, he starts bathing Spider-Man wounds, who gives out a hiss whenever the cloth rubs over the cuts and bruises littering his torso.
"So, you know my day hasn't gone that well, but how about you?" Spider-Man asked, voice strained as the painkillers took their sweet-time working.
Harry laughed. His worries seemed almost insignificant compared to Spider-Man's crimefighting and really, why on earth would he want to listen to all that? Still, he supposes Spider-Man is in sore need of a distraction right now. Anything to mask the pain.
"Oh, uhhh… my day wasn't too great either." Harry said, moving on to a particularly nasty gash on Spider-Man's shoulder; "I tried to catch up with a friend – only stuff keeps getting in the way. Maybe it's a big old message from the universe that we just aren't meant to be together, you know?"
Spider-Man bit back a yelp as Harry pressed the alcohol-soaked cloth to his shoulder.
"Shit – ahh, I'm sorry to hear that."
Harry shrugged, "I'm not surprised, just… disappointed. It's been like this for a while now, so, no harm done."
"No, that straight up sucks." Spider-Man insisted, "Your friends sounds pretty lousy."
Hearing it aloud made it worse. Harry wanted so badly for Peter to be invested in their friendship, but it didn't seem that way anymore. And he would never have called Peter lousy, and he frowned at the very mention of it, but his cheeks burned at the thought that Spider-Man was being protective.
Harry laughed, "I don't know, your friends like to beat you up and leave you in the street, so I think I've got the sweeter deal to be honest."
"No, no, we're talking about you, remember?" Spider-Man said, jumping a little as Harry pressed the cloth to a nasty cut on his arm. "We both know my day straight up sucked, so you're meant to be distracting me."
"Fine. Ask me another question then." Harry said, trying his best not to smile.
Spider-Man tilted his head in thought as he decided on what question to ask. Finally, he said: "So, your dad is Norman Osborn? That's crazy right?"
"Mmhmmm, if there's a textbook entry for daddy issues, I'm it." Harry said, half-joking as he rooted about in the med-kit for the bandages.
Suddenly, Spider-Man let out a peal of laughter, which quickly devolved into groans of pain. Harry's heart quickened in his chest, as he fussed about trying to calm him down.
"Hey! Stop that!" Harry scolded him, trying to wrap the bandages around his wounds.
"Shit, ouch."
"Yeah, that's what you get for laughing at my lame jokes."
"But seriously, Norman Osborn. Yeesh. That's one hell of a shadow to be growing up in."
"I don't care about that stuff. I just wish he had more time for me." Harry said, not even believing himself. It wasn't that he actually wanted to be like his father, it was that Norman wanted him to be like him and would treat him with apathy otherwise. And yes, he would have liked it if Norman had been more of the throw-the-ball-in-the-park type of dad, but that wasn't how things had worked out.
"Yeah, I miss my dad too."
Harry blinked. Had Spider-Man just revealed something personal? Holy shit.
"Really? Daddy issues?"
"A different brand of daddy issues. He died when I was a kid."
Harry bit his lip, "I'm sorry to hear that."
"Nah, the rest of my family has been great to me. It's just sad sometimes, that's all. How about you? How's family life?"
"Yeah, my dad's going a bit loopy, I think." Harry laughed, "He keeps getting more and more paranoid."
"Yeah, how so?"
"Oh, let me see… oh yeah, he thinks an outsider might have hacked into some files at Oscorp – I had to work there on Monday, and he interrogated me a few days later - asked me if I'd seen anything funny."
"And did you?" Spider-Man asked, clutching at his side.
"No. And how would I know if I did? There's always something weird going on there. The company makes bank from creepy science experiments!"
"Maybe he's getting protective of you." Spider-Man said.
Harry shook his head, "Hah. I wish."
Finally, Harry wraps up the last of the wounds. He sits back to rub cream on the bruises, trying not to concentrate on how well-muscled Spider-Man's torso is, nor how his soft his skin feels beneath his fingertips, and the way his muscles ripple under his touch. More importantly, he refuses to stare at the coarse trail of hairs winding from his bellybutton and down under his waistband.
Oh, no.
Oh, no, no, no. Fuck.
"Shall I turn on the T.V.? Harry asked, sitting up far too quickly.
After Spider-Man gave a weak nod, Harry turns on the T.V. He flicks aimlessly through the channels and stops on a 24-hour news station. Normally, he would have stopped on a music or otherwise benign channel, but the picture on the screen has caught his attention. It's from Manhattan, at one of the docks. It's worrying – there's plenty of property damage and evidence of what could only be a serious fight. Already, there's a lot of police cars on the scenes.
"Is this you?"
Spider-Man nodded weakly, "I was trying to hunt down those Raft escapees – it got messy."
"Alone?"
"No, I had back-up… but like I said, it got messy." Spider-Man said, clawing at his side.
"Don't mess with your injuries!" Harry said, slapping his hand away quickly. With the grace to look sheepish, Spider-Man obeyed. "And seriously, did you guys even have a plan?"
"Hey!" Spider-Man said, clearly affronted, "I mean, sure it was a little spur of the moment, but that's what I do!"
When Harry gave him a look, Spider-Man trailed off.
"I know this hero thing must be important to you, but please, be careful." Harry said quietly, looking down at his hands; "I'm happy to patch you up whenever you need to, but please, look out for yourself."
"Thank you, Har."
Cheeks burning, Harry looked up in surprise. Only Peter ever called him that. But coming from Spider-Man, the stupid nickname felt miles more intimate than it ever had before. Fighting down the beating of his heart, Harry stands up quickly and put some much-needed distance between himself and Spider-Man. He knew he was being silly. But gosh, did it make him feel good.
"You can rest up in here – don't worry, my dad never comes in here so there shouldn't be any awkward questions or anything like that." Harry said, smiling, "Did you want me to blind-fold myself?"
Harry knows that Spider-Man's anonymity is important. He had never taken his mask off in front of him, and this situation was not desperate enough to warrant him doing so. Talking with a stranger was getting wearisome, you could only get so close to someone who never showed their face to you, but Harry did not think about that in this moment. Surely, Spider-Man would tell him in time, but for now Harry would just have to adapt. Protecting Spider-Man's identity was important to the hero, so it would have to be important to Harry too.
"A-are you sure?" Spider-Man's body language is all stiff-limbed surprise, "I can't ask you to do that in your own house. I can just leave, yanno?"
Harry shakes his head, "You need rest, and to sort out any injuries on your face. I'll go find a blindfold or something."
It doesn't take Harry long to find a suitable blindfold in the form of one of his silk scarves (wrapped twice so that he can't be tempted to take a peak). He sits on the bed, hugging one of the posts and listening to the hum of the T.V. and Spider-Man washing up in his bathroom.
"You've been so quiet recently," Harry said, regretting the words even as they spilled out; "I missed you."
There was a beat of silence, and all Harry could hear was Spider-Man's laboured breathing bouncing off the tiled-walls of the bathroom. It was painful to wait.
"I wanted to see you. I got caught up in chasing those guys and tracking them down, but I really wanted to see you." Spider-Man said after a moment, his voice achingly soft.
"Oh," Harry said, too surprised to say anything else. Distantly, his heart gives a feeble sort of leap in his chest, a feeling which he tries, and fails to push back down.
Slowly, they drift into a comfortable silence as Spider-Man splashes about in the bathroom, no doubt washing a great deal of grime and blood off his face. Despite the mask, Harry suspects that the hero was not well protected for the fight at all.
When Harry hears the tell-tale sign of footsteps exiting the bathroom and back towards him, he can't help but tense. Suddenly, he's infuriatingly shy in front of Spider-Man and he hates himself for it. Hell, why couldn't he be suave and cool? Why did he have to be a blushing mess?
The bed dips next to him as Spider-Man sits back down, no doubt propping the cushions behind his sore body.
"Do you need more painkillers? Water? An ice pack?" Harry asked, fumbling over his words and hoping that Spider-Man couldn't see the colour in his face.
Suddenly, calloused fingers trace the curves of his face, coming to a slow stop as two clever hands cradle his jaw. Harry's breath quickens, suddenly feeling utterly vulnerable beneath Spider-Man's gaze. They are sitting too close together and he can hear and feel Spider-Man's own steady breathing. With their faces close together, Harry suddenly fears that Spider-Man is going to kiss him.
"Thank you." Spider-Man said instead, voice strangely quiet and without the obviously put-upon gruffness. It is a deep, yet gentle voice that washes over him. There is something familiar to it, that Harry can't quite place. His brow furrows in thought, and almost instantly the hands draw away.
Harry sits quietly for a moment, stunned.
Then he stands up, using the bed-post as a guide; "I'll go get you an ice-pack." He said, more to himself than Spider-Man.
"I'm covering my face, so feel free to take that blindfold off."
Harry is grateful to exit the room with his vision intact, cheeks still on fire. His attention is drawn yet again, however, as Spider-Man speaks:
"You should, uhhh, you shouldn't give up yet. Go talk to that asshole friend of yours," Spider-Man said groggily, from behind one of the cushions he was using to shield his face; "I bet they miss you just as much as you miss them."
Harry ducked his head and smiled, before heading out to find an ice-pack.
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A/N: PETER MADE HIS MOVEEEEEE (sort of)
also how about those new eps of marvel's spider-man like ouch amirite