Harry: It’s eleven at night
Peter: so why are you awake
Harry: you texted me here, Parker
Harry: go on
Peter: what does je donne ma langue au chat mean?
Harry: I have no idea
Peter: well google tells me it means
Peter: I give my tongue to the cat
Peter: and that’s just weird
Harry: jfc Peter
Peter: why is your second language so weird
Harry: i hate you
Peter: no you don’t!
Harry: i’m going to bed
Peter: sleep tight!
Peter: Love you!
Harry: love you too
“Who are you texting?” Peter jumped and looked up from his phone at Tony. The older man pretended he wasn’t really interested, screwdriver in hand and hair askew as he tweaked with one of his machines in the corner of the room. Peter had almost forgotten where he was - he didn’t typically text Harry throughout internship days but Harry had had a bad day (or so he had told Peter earlier when Peter was at lunch and Harry at dinner) and Peter wanted nothing more than distract him from it at least a little bit. “Because I’d hate to think I’m boring you, Parker.” Tony said it with a smile so that Peter knew he was joking and Peter scoffed.
“Just a friend.” Harry wasn’t just a friend , though. Harry wasn’t just anything. What they were was a little confusing - they hadn’t talked about it before the summer was up and Harry had been shipped back to Paris, but Peter was smart enough to know that friends didn’t usually kiss each other goodbye in the airport bathroom. If Peter felt bad at lying to Tony it was quickly stifled down when he remembered how vocally Tony disliked the Osborns. He didn’t bother hiding it and Peter didn’t really see why he should . Peter purposely had kept his lips sealed whenever Tony talked about them, a weirdly childish part of him worried that Tony would push him out if he found out the truth. Tony hated Norman Osborn with a passion and Norman felt exactly the same.
It felt almost like cheating whenever Peter went over to the Osborn’s house during the summer without telling Tony. Which was ridiculous, Peter thought, since Tony wasn’t his father .
“Just a friend, he says.” Tony rolled his eyes and nudged Peter when he walked by. “Just a friend doesn’t make you smile like that.”
“Smile like what?” Peter tried to keep his blush at bay but he knew he was way too expressive to be able to hide much from his mentor. Tony picked up on it immediately and the smile he sent Peter reminded him of a shark that had just smelled blood.
Peter crossed his arms and slid down farther into his seat. He wasn’t looking forward to this interrogation. “You have a crush .” Tony sounded delighted.
“No!” Peter spoke into the heels of his hands and tried to hide his flaming face from view.
“More than a crush.” Tony scrutinized him, narrowed his gaze at Peter’s face and reached out for his phone. Thankfully, Peter was quicker than Tony gave him credit for sometimes and he pulled it away from the older man’s hand. “What are you hiding Parker?”
“Then let me see the phone.”
“It’s my phone. I literally gave it to you.”
“No take backs.”
“You only act like this when you have something to hide.”
“Well… maybe I do .”
Tony narrowed his gaze. “Who is this girl?” Peter sunk down even further into the plush leather seat. That was another problem - Tony didn’t even know that it could be anything but a girl. It had never come up in conversation and, generally, was never something that Peter even considered important enough to tell. May hadn’t ever asked, in fact she was the only one that knew specifically about the undisclosed relationship between Harry and Peter. She had seen it coming before they had and when Harry had left for school she had simply hugged Peter close and asked him to tell her about their first kiss.
Peter didn’t think Tony would react badly (well… he would to Harry’s name).Tony was always open about his support of anyone and Peter didn’t think that he was exactly straight either but… the idea of saying it was making something sick and vile twist in his stomach. He had said the words out loud to himself before - and to others (to Ned and MJ and decathlon team where he actually got a strange amount of support from Flash of all people). But to Tony … it felt a little bit too much like admitting it to a parent. And Peter had never had to do that before. “Who is this boy ?” Tony asked when Peter said nothing with a quirked curious eyebrow.
“He’s a friend .” Peter insisted and told himself that he wasn’t wrong. Harry was a friend. Harry was his best friend. Harry was… his boy friend . The word friend existed within the word for a reason.
“Who is it?” Tony asked but turned away abruptly to give Peter enough time to recover from what he just admitted. “The computer friend you have… Ted?”
“Ned.” Peter corrected offhandedly. “And no . You haven’t met him.”
Or had he met him? Peter didn’t actually know if Tony and Harry had ever met before. They ran in surprisingly similar circles - or at least Tony and Norman did. Harry hadn’t always gone to school in France and when he lived in the city Norman had dragged him along to every gala and charity event he had gone to. It was weird, only because Tony might not have even noticed Harry if they had met. Peter didn’t know how he wouldn’t have remembered him - Harry was far too memorable in his mind. “You have a picture?” Tony ducked under the bot to tweak with something that ended with oil dripping down the front of his shirt. “Show me a picture.”
Peter did have pictures. He had a lot of pictures. Unfortunately for him, Harry was very much a member of the public eye and showing pictures meant that Tony would realize that his intern was possibly dating - definitely best friends with - his biggest business enemy. “Uhm…” Peter thanked his lucky stars for the emerging sound of police cars and the way Tony’s police scanner crackled into life. “Gotta go!”
He was out the window before Tony could even register what had happened and with the brush of air by his ears Peter felt the tension of the conversation fall behind.
Peter: my favorite new French phrase is
Peter: J'ai la patate
Peter: Because it means both I’m feeling great
Harry: no that’s literally all it means
Peter: AND I have the potato!
Peter: Tell me where I’m wrong
Peter: you CAN’T
Peter: because I’m RIGHT
Peter: what do you use to say you’re feeling great
Peter: YOU’RE A PEACH
Peter: it fits you so well
Peter: because of the hair
Harry: my hair does not look like a peach
Peter: it doesn’t look like a potato
Harry: Neither does yours?
Peter: mine looks more like a potato than a peach
Harry: are you having a stroke
Peter: how sweet of you to worry though
Peter: I’m trying to make you smile
Peter: did it work
Harry: talking to you always makes me smile
Peter: when are you coming homeeeeee
Harry: Christmas I think
Peter: that’s so far
Harry: I know
Peter: am I allowed to go to your father and demand he bring you home early
Harry: wait he might actually listen to you
Peter: worth a try?
Harry: lmao go for it
Harry: aren’t you in class?
Peter: what’s your point
Harry: Peter 😂😂
Peter: I’m literally first in class
Peter: and I already finished my work
Peter: do you guys know your rankings?
Harry: I’m third
Peter: that’s so good!
Harry: says first
Peter: not a competition
Harry: dad’s not happy about it
Peter: well I am!
Peter: Third is huge
Harry: first is better
Peter: I love you
Harry: I love you too
Harry: Je suis fou de toi
Peter: w ha t does that mean
Harry: come on first in class
Harry: figure it out
Peter: you know I’m not actually any good at french
Harry: sucks to suck
Peter: why do you hurt me this way
Ned nudged him sharply with the tip of his elbow and Peter jumped, immediately going red when he realized that everyone’s attention was solely on him. MJ looked annoyed which, to be honest, was sort of her base expression but everyone else looked either like they were about to laugh or about to strangle him. “Do we have your attention now, Peter?” Mister Harrison sounded bored more than upset from his spot at the table.
“Yes, uhm… sorry.” He stuffed his phone back into his pocket and stared up at MJ with, what he hoped was, innocence in his eyes.
She didn’t buy it.
Luckily for him, though, MJ was fundamentally kind and didn’t care much about Peter’s personal life. Unluckily for him, though, some people on the team weren’t as nice. “Who were you texting?” It was Betty that asked and Peter had known her long enough to know that she didn’t mean any malice but was asking out of pure curiosity. Flash was like a dog with a bone, though, and once Betty asked he was only too happy to latch on.
“Just a friend.” Betty would have accepted it without question - she was trusting and kind like that.
Flash… didn’t .
Unfortunately, Peter had known Flash for years and, somehow, the other boy had gotten scarily good at knowing when Peter was lying (about certain things, Peter reminded himself. Flash was simply too obtuse to notice the biggest one even if it stared him in the face). The other boy straightened up in his seat to the left of Peter and began his interrogation. “All your friends are here though.” Which… was sort of fair but also all kinds of offensive. Peter had friends. He had more friends than Ned and MJ and any one else on the team. He just… couldn’t exactly yell out that he spent evenings in a superhero costume fighting bad guys and therefore knew some of the most powerful people in the universe without sounding more than a bit insane. “So who are you texting?”
He should have just said May. Why hadn’t he said May? No one would have questioned it if he said May.
Sometimes even Peter was amazed that he was so smart yet so dumb. “I said a friend.”
“Come on, Parker.” Flash rolled his eyes. “Who else but these losers would want to be texting you?”
“Hey!” Ned said indignantly.
“Flash.” Mister Harrison warned.
Peter considered the consequences of losing his temper just enough to punch the smug look off Flash’s face. Instead he turned away from him and fixed MJ with the undivided attention she had deserved the entire meeting. “Sorry, MJ.” He apologized even if the roll of her eyes told him that it wasn’t him she expected the apology from anymore.
“Moving on,” MJ waved away his apology and looked down at the paper in her hands just as Peter’s phone vibrated in his pocket with an audible buzz .
Peter flushed but vowed to ignore it, even if he could feel everyone’s eyes on him except Ned’s. Ned didn’t really know Harry - Peter had met Ned when Harry had been sent to France for school and that previous summer Ned had been visiting family when Harry had been home - but he knew of him. Ned had said it was cool that Peter happened to know both Tony Stark and Norman Osborn on deeply personal levels and he hadn’t really bothered to push more. If Peter said Harry then Ned inevitably would have blurted out Osborn. He wouldn’t even do it on purpose, Ned was simply that excited that Peter knew people that he admired. And Peter wouldn’t mind it, except he knew it would be one more thing that Flash took and ran with when it came to taunting him. He already didn’t believe that Peter worked for Tony even when the evidence was right in his face. Why would he ever believe that Peter knew the Osborn family? Or that he was in a sort of, not really defined but definitely spent time kissing relationship with the heir to the Oscorp company?
It would all be a headache that Peter didn’t want to deal with.
“Seriously, Parker.” Flash said when his phone went off again. “ Why would someone be texting you this much?”
“Mind your own business, Eugene .”
Peter didn’t usually snap but it was pure satisfaction watching the way Flash’s face drained of color at the use of his actual name. He stuttered for words a bit and even MJ seemed entertained until the next words out of his mouth. “Who is it - your make believe boyfriend ?”
Instantly the air grew a bit colder and Peter wondered, maybe, if that was what homophobia felt like. He was lucky, he knew that - Norman wouldn’t exactly take the news of Harry being into guys very well so Harry simply avoided telling him. Everyone Peter had told had accepted the news like it was nothing important and he appreciated it more than words could tell. Even Flash had seemed accepting back when Peter had blurted it to the entire decathlon team but for him to use it to cause harm felt like a betrayal Peter didn’t know he hadn’t expected. Flash was a bully - he latched onto things that were easy targets and exploited them. It was a wonder why he hadn’t used Peter’s sexuality against him until now. “Mister Thompson.” Mister Harrison usually didn’t get involved in the small spats of the group, but something about the stony silence must have tipped him off that adult intervention was required.
“Yes.” Peter said it before he could stop himself, his anger a well in his stomach and his jaw set in a line. “I’m talking to my boy friend, now as I said before I’m sorry it interrupted practice. Can we get back to it already?”
Whatever Flash had expected of him it hadn’t been an answer like that and his cheeks flushed with something close to shame. Maybe he hadn’t meant it as an attack, then. Either way the words had felt sharp as knives and, unfortunately for him, Peter was rather deft at avoiding them. He could handle Flash’s pointed jabs at him , but the moment he even thought about pointing them at Harry then Peter wouldn’t hesitate to knock them out of his hands.
Harry: T’as d’beaux yeux, tu sais?
Peter: what are you saying to me
Harry: google it
Peter: why can’t you just t e l l me
Harry: why can’t you just google it
Peter: you’re a pain in the ass Osborn
Harry: yeah but you like it
Peter: I don’t like anything
Peter: don’t you dare
Peter: no it was a JOKE
Harry: why had you hurt me this way
Harry: I’m CRYING Peter
Peter: noooooooooo don’t
Peter: don’t cry
Harry: too late
Peter: Harry no
Peter: I love everything about you
Harry: except my ass
Harry: which is my BEST feature
Peter: that’s your freckles
Harry: the freckles deserve to die
Peter: noooo I love them
Harry: they’re horrible
Peter: they’re perfect
Harry: I hate them
Peter: too bad
Peter: I love them
Peter: so they stay
Harry: no I’m going to carve them out
Harry: why do you have no full name I can use against you
Harry: Peter Benjamin
Peter: Harold Theopolis
Peter: lmao it’s just as pretentious as you are!
Harry: why is today offend Harry day
Peter: why did you order a pound of chocolate for a hundred dollars
Harry: Because it tasted fantastic
Harry: and it was your birthday
Peter: but a hundred dollars
Harry: did you not like it
Peter: I hate how much I loved it
Harry: how’s was school?
Peter: pretty good, I got to tell off Flash so that was fun
Peter: How was yours?
Harry: believe it or not
Harry: getting to learn about bio in french does nothing to help me understand it
Peter: wanna video chat your notes in the morning?
Harry: you’re a literal angel, Peter
Peter: naw that’s you
Peter: Si besarte fuera pecado, caminaría feliz por el infierno
Harry: you know
Harry: I know how to use google
Peter: but you’re not gonna
Harry: curse you
Peter: you’re not the only one that knows another language
Harry: the difference between us though Pete
Harry: is that I WILL look it up
“Honey,” May knocked softly on the door, her hands twisting her hair into a high ponytail and eyes dancing with a teasing humor Peter didn’t want to understand. Happy was over for dinner that night and while Peter liked the guy he didn’t actually want to spend all day with him. Happy had picked him up from school, driven him to May’s, and then stayed .
Peter didn’t want May to be unhappy. He wanted her to move on - and he knew Ben would have wanted it for her too.
But it had to be Happy of all people?
He had whined about it to Harry way more times than he could count, and Harry had understood to the best of his ability at midnight in France. As it was, Peter should bid Harry goodnight - it was six at night in New York which, as Peter’s second clock on his phone told him, was nearing one in the morning in France. Thankfully, the next day was Saturday so Peter didn’t feel too guilty for keeping him awake. “Hey May.”
“Are you going to grace us with your presence anytime tonight or just sit in here and smile at your phone?”
“I was thinking of smiling at my phone a bit longer, actually.”
May laughed and it sounded like wind chimes. “How’s your boyfriend doing anyway?”
Peter flushed and glanced down at his phone screen against his own wishes. A picture of him and Harry was his background - no matter how cheesy it was now that Peter thought about it - Peter pressing a long and exaggerated kiss to Harry’s freckled cheek just to get the way he scrunched his face when he laughed in the frame. It was from the summer previous, days after Harry had kissed him in the middle of a bookstore without any warning and only moments before Harry had turned his head and Peter had caught him off guard with his own insistent - yet nervous - lips. May had teasingly called Harry his boyfriend ever since Harry had left and Peter had denied it until his voice ran raw.
May hadn’t believed him, and that was fine, and she had mostly calmed down since Peter admitted to her that he wasn’t even sure what they were. Every now and then, though, May would bring it back up with that soft teasing glint in her eyes and she was honestly the only person that Peter would accept that sort of teasing from. Still, he supposed, if there was anyone he should test it out on it was her . May wouldn’t judge regardless of what Peter and Harry chose to call themselves and she had known them both for so long that nothing Peter could say would shock her. “He’s doing pretty good,” Peter didn’t look at her when he talked but, rather, at the screen on his phone. He remembered counting the freckles on Harry’s cheeks and realizing that there were too many to count like the constellations in the sky. “Having some bio trouble but it’s nothing we can’t work on.”
“Are you going to call him tomorrow?” May asked it as though she didn’t already know that Peter and Harry video called each other every Saturday when Peter had breakfast and Harry lunch.
“Yeah.” Peter smiled up at her when she leaned down to kiss his forehead. “I’ll be out soon, I just want to say goodnight.”
“Tell Harry I said sweet dreams.” May called over her shoulder and if Peter flushed, just a little bit and smiled dopily at his phone then no one but him had to know.
Harry: i miss your face
Peter: I miss your face
Peter: isn’t it like 7am there
Peter: why aren’t you sleeping still
Harry: sleep is for the weak
Harry: plus it’s like 1am for you
Harry: why aren’t YOU asleep
Harry: crime never sleeps
Peter: so I never sleep
Harry: the sun’s awake so I’m awake
Peter: don’t quote Frozen at me
Harry: Too late
Peter: everything okay though
Peter: you’re usually not up this early
Harry: whereas you’re up this late all the time
Peter: I mean
Harry: you’re sleep schedule scares me
Peter: I’d say I’m sorry but
Harry: Je ne peux pas vivre sans toi
Peter: why do you send me things in french when I can’t just look it up
Harry: for the reaction
Peter: I think it’s because you KNOW I can’t look it up
Harry: maybe not
“Spidey,” Matt snapped for what was probably the tenth time. “If you can’t stop getting distracted you’re no use to me here.”
Peter winced and tapped off the display in his mask. “Sorry,” he muttered the word knowing that Matt would pick up on it even if he spoke quietly. He bit his lip and glanced sideways at where Matt was crouched over the edge of the rooftop, his red leather suit glinting in the moonlight and his mouth curved downwards in a disapproving line. He could tell Matt. Matt wouldn’t care and Peter would be able to get out the excitement that was eating him up inside. “It’s just my boyfriend.”
“Good for you.” Matt answered quick enough that Peter knew it meant he wasn’t really listening to what he was saying.
“He’s all the way in France and I really miss him.”
“I don’t care.”
“It’s Harry Osborn.”
“I really don’t care.”
Peter laughed despite himself. “Thanks for listening, Red.”
“Shut up, Spidey.”
Peter: question for you
Harry: it is entirely too early for that
Harry: but ask away
Peter: i’m dumb
Peter: I finally looked up what you sent
Harry: noooo you didn’t
Peter: no I did
Peter: ugh this is so weird
Peter: but I looked it up
Harry: oh god i’m sorry
Peter: no don’t be
Peter: you’re a sap
Peter: but I like sap
Peter: I’m a sap
Harry: what are you saying
Peter: we never put a label on… us
Harry: You don’t like labels
Peter: I don’t!
Peter: you’re right
Peter: but I like you
Peter: okay I have a question
Peter: can i call you my boyfriend?
Peter: are you blushing
Harry: i hate you
Peter: I love you
Peter: my BOYFRIEND
Peter: B O Y F R I E N D
Harry: i love you too
Harry: yes Peter
Harry: haha you’re a nerd
Peter: your nerd
Harry: my nerd
Peter was bouncing with excitement the entire morning - his body practically vibrating and May had ordered him to fix the computer, the television, and clean the apartment to work off some energy. It had worked, just a bit, but it all came rushing back the moment the doorbell rang.
Peter slipped on the floor in his socks on his race to the door and May caught him by the elbow before he could slam into the wall. She might have said something to him, cautioned him to slow down or take a breather or even might have told him to go back to his room and change since he was sweaty and disgusting, but excitement won out over anything else. A video screen did wonders for Harry and Peter was incredibly grateful to have it.
But seeing him in person was something completely different. Sure, they had had the summer where they were dating but not quite dating. But ever since Peter had declared Harry is boyfriend over text they hadn’t been able to say so in person. He had looked at Harry’s face, sleepy and soft and with messed up dark auburn hair that Harry only let certain people see through a screen only made Peter want to kiss him more . And with him all the way in France it made it impossible to do so bar kissing the screen.
He took a quick breath before swinging open the door and stopped, his breath caught in his throat.
Harry had been crying.
Peter pulled him in through the door quick as a whip, and into a hug only moments after. Harry’s jacket was sprinkled with snow, his nose red, and his eyes even worse. He clung to Peter like he had never held him before and Peter shared a long, wide eyed look with May over his shoulder. It felt good to have Harry in his arms, though. Felt good to be able to squeeze the chill out of his shoulders and count the freckles that Peter knew were too many to catalog. “Hey, sweetie,” May spoke when it was obvious that Peter or Harry wasn’t going to, her hand reaching out to gently rub against his back and then thinking better of it. She tilted her head the way she always did when she was noticing something Peter didn’t and she slowly, yet firmly, reached out to run it through his hair instead. “We missed you.”
May had known Harry almost as long as Peter had. He had spent weekends, summers, and family dinners at the Parker household. He had cried when Ben died with them and sent May Mother’s Day flowers every year. After his own mother died May happily took the spot that she had vacated. Harry didn’t say anything back but Peter felt his arms tighten around Peter’s neck and the way his breath stuttered under his hands. Peter nosed into the cold skin at Harry’s ear, breathed in the coconut of his shampoo and spoke just soft enough for Harry to hear. “What’s going on, Har?”
From the way Harry’s shoulders hitched Peter knew it hadn’t really been a good thing that happened. “This is a much quieter greeting than I expected to hear, you know.” May moved to intercept Happy and placed her hand firm on his chest to push him back out of the room.
“I’m sorry,” Harry pulled back abruptly but Peter clenched his muscles so that he couldn’t move too far away. “I’m sorry.”
His voice sounded terrible even if it was Peter’s favorite sound in the world. He was clearly upset and Peter didn’t like the way Harry wiped under his eyes as though his emotions were dangerous. “What happened?”
Harry looked up at him and then at Happy and May and then back. He opened his mouth once, twice, and then a third time before a strangled noise came out instead of the words he was so desperately looking for. “I… I told my dad.”
Peter pulled him back in before Harry could pull away and he ran his hands hard up the back of his peacoat. Harry’s nose sent a chill up Peter’s spine when he buried it in his neck. “Did he…?” Kick him out? Hurt him?
Harry shook his head. “No.”
Peter didn’t need to ask what the problem was. He knew Norman and Harry’s problems like he knew New York City. Norman had problems with a lot of things and incredibly impossible to reach expectations. And Harry, no matter how hard he tried, always seemed to fall short. Harry wasn’t first in class, but had worked his way up to second, and still he hadn’t heard anything other than a second won’t get you into Harvard from Norman. Harry had mastered French in the way that only a native speaker ever really managed to and Norman had made sure that Harry knew that one language wasn’t going to be enough to get a leg up over the competition in the business world. Harry had gotten his art in a gallery and Norman had specified that art , while a fun hobby, could never be a career.
Harry had come out and Peter was sure Norman had said something damaging.
May left them alone and pushed Happy to do the same and Peter, with her silent permission, led Harry back to his bedroom and out of his coat. Peter had to admit, even with red rimmed eyes, Harry Osborn was painfully attractive. He had done his hair the way he knew Peter liked it, swept to the side and out of his bright blue eyes, and he had worn jeans and the t-shirt he had stolen from Peter before he left for France. His converse were scuffed from use and his jeans were just tight enough to hug the curves of his body. He was a little bit shorter than Peter now - Peter was still growing, after all, and Harry had hit his growth spurt when he was fifteen.
Peter stepped just a bit closer, his hands framing Harry’s warming cheeks and pulled him closer. The closed door was against May’s usual rules, but under the circumstances Peter figured she wouldn’t care. Harry kissed like the French, tongue and teeth and passion in every move of his lips. He gripped at Peter’s belt loops like they were the only thing holding him together and his skin bumped in goose flesh when Peter ran his hands down his arms and over to the small of his back. Peter only pulled apart when he felt the scream of his lungs and even then it was only to press their foreheads together and rub his nose against the tip of Harry’s.
When he opened his eyes it was to see that Harry’s was still closed. His auburn eyelashes painted his skin and painted over the the slowly fading red of his cheeks while Peter rubbed the cold out of his body. “You okay?” He whispered as though it was a secret between them, the words dancing over their lips until Harry leaned forward just enough to brush their mouths back together.
“Can I stay here tonight?” He didn’t have to say the reason why he didn’t want to go home and Peter didn’t ask. He nodded without even knowing what May would say but he didn’t think she would actually have any problems.
“Wanna watch a movie?”
They ended up in the middle of Peter’s bed, Harry’s head heavy on Peter pillow and television softly playing a cartoon in the background. Peter knew Harry wasn’t sleeping because he was playing with the fingers on Peter’s hand, but his breath was relaxed and even. Peter could hear May in the kitchen, preparing dinner as quietly as she could with the help of Happy. She had knocked on the door exactly once and peaked her head in to see the two of them curled around each other. Peter had pulled up his comforter over the two of them and honestly couldn’t keep his hands to himself. This close to Harry he could feel every beat of his heart against the surface of his own skin and he kissed along the column of Harry’s neck until the other boy turned around in his arms to face him.
He smiled and it reached his eyes. “Je t’aime.” Peter murmured against his lips and he furrowed his brow when Harry tensed to laugh. “What?”
“I’m sorry you just…” Harry turned his face away to laugh into the fabric of Peter’s pillow. “You butchered that.”
“I…” Harry’s laugh was contagious - high and giggly and his grin splitting across his face in a way that contrasted with the tears that had been glittering on his eyelashes only hours before. Peter couldn’t help laughing too. “I tried .” He shoved at Harry’s shoulder, caught him before he could roll himself over the edge of the bed around the waist, and slid his fingers up his sides to Harry’s one ticklish spot over his ribs.
Harry spazzed away from his hands but threw his head back in laughter to reveal a long column of skin on his neck. Peter had strength over him, his body fitting perfectly between Harry’s legs and comforter sliding down his back while Harry squirmed and tried to push him away. Peter thought that, maybe, it wasn’t Harry’s voice that was his favorite sound but his laugh that made Peter’s heart soar.
Peter stopped only when Harry’s breath seemed just a bit too shallow and was content to watch as Harry’s laughs tapered off into soft giggles. Peter stared and it was a little too obvious that he was staring but Harry didn’t seem phased by it at all. He reached up a hand to grip at the back of Peter’s neck and, willingly, Peter lowered himself so that he was hovering mere millimeters away from Harry’s mouth. “Je t’aime, Peter.” He said it smooth like melting chocolate and something deep and primal in Peter’s body made his eyes glue to the pink of Harry’s lips. Harry must have seen something there, something in the way that Peter swallowed hard and forced his eyes back up because he was smirking before Peter could even kiss him. “You like that don’t you?”
“ Yes ,” Peter breathed.
“Je suis fou de toi .” Harry whispered against his lips and Peter was both delighted and frustrated by the pull of something in his stomach.
He kissed Harry desperately before he could speak again and revelled in the feel of him. Whole, firm and eager. He felt the way Harry’s leg hitched so that it was bent at the knee and gripped at Peter’s elbow as if to keep him in place. Peter dragged his teeth over the skin at Harry’s lip and pulled away only long enough to move down to the skin at his neck, the entire time committing the little gasps and moans he pulled out to memory. Harry shivered when Peter’s lips brushed over the shell of his ear and his hips stuttered upwards when Peter’s pushed down and…
“Dinner’s ready!” May didn’t burst in but, regardless, the mood was broken and they pulled away from each other with pupils blown wide and breath panting between them.
“How do you swear in french?” Peter asked and laughed only when Harry did.
They settled in for dinner with Harry beating Happy to pull out May’s chair and pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. Happy served the pasta - May’s signature dish - and asked Harry about school when the conversation lulled and Peter didn’t think twice before grabbing Harry’s hand over the table top. “We missed you.” Peter pretended not to hear it, whispered from May to Harry when Peter and Happy were clearing the table. “Welcome home, honey.”