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At first, the coincidences were easy to brush off. Peter just so happened to be at Horizon High when the strange robot attacked and stole Harry's experiments. He dismissively waved a hand and reassured Harry that he escaped without a scratch, "Spiderman handled it all", while resisting the urge to wince at a recent bruise under his left rib.
Along with super-strength, the spider bite granted him super healing — to an extent. The injuries weren't as severe as they would be if he were a regular person, some impacts would kill him on the spot in that case. But fights would leave him with a bruise here and there, a couple aches and pains that die down fairly quickly.
One day, he could have bruised ribs and a sharp, shooting pain up his arm — and the next, they'd be as good as new. While life-saving, it didn't help to hide his identity, especially the more obvious injuries.
After the scuffle at Osborn Academy, things went downhill — fast. He met with Harry at the cafe and discussed the accident; how Spiderman had saved the day and both of them. "As I was coming down, the wind changed direction, and I landed directly in the East River," Peter claimed with a shrug, avoiding direct eye contact.
It felt horrible to lie, and so easily too, with a wave of his hand. But Harry brought it without batting an eye, going on and on about how he still didn't trust Spiderman either way, and Peter had to bite back a retort. Instead, he rolled his eyes and took a sip of his ice drink.
And then the pain struck; like lightning coursing through his veins, an explosion spreading up his arm. The drink hit the floor, oozing over the tiles, and Harry jumped to his feet, face laced with concern. "Pete! Are you okay?"
In spite of his shout, Peter was more concerned over the spilt drink and waste of money. "I'm okay," he insisted with a strained smile, shaking his hand as if the pain would just fly off. Resisting the urge to curse under his breath and inspect the injury for himself, the pain worsened with each passing second. "Must've just landed on it or something."
Harry's open jaw closes, and he silently stares at Peter for a moment before saying, "I thought you landed in the river."
Shit.
The two bickered back and forth, until Harry grabbed his arm; forcing a pained shout out of him that had the whole cafe fall silent and glance over. Acknowledging his defeat, Peter hung his head in shame as Harry rolled down his sleeve to expose dark purple bruises littering his entire forearm.
His eyes flickered to Harry; an instant regret. That expression, twisted in horror and frustration is something he will never forget. Quickly withdrawing his arm, he pulled the sleeve back up and hid it in the pocket of his hoodie. "Like I said," he muttered, trying to ignore the narrowed eyes burning into his skin, "must've landed on it. But it wasn't Spiderman's fault-"
"It wasn't?!"
An argument broke out, lasting until they were both forcibly kicked out of the cafe. They've known the owner and majority of workers for years, but they were scaring away customers with sharp remarks and gritted teeth. After the door closed behind with a loud bang, a heavy silence fell over them both.
Funnily enough, the sour aftertaste and frustration prickling his skin like tiny needles hurt a lot worse than whatever The Jackal or those two kids could've done. It boiled in his chest until he managed to force the words out at the same time as Harry, the two locking eyes.
"I'm sorry."
A warm smile and quick hug — careful to avoid inflicting anymore pain — and things were fine, they were perfect until the next villain chose to rear its ugly head. Despite strategic planning and paranoia; it backfired again and again .
"How the fuck did you get a black eye?!"
Peter had removed his mask and changed out of costume without so much as examining his reflection. Hence, upon turning the corner and reuniting with Harry, a bright grin on his face and mid-wave, he was immediately stopped dead in his tracks. Harry looked like he had seen a ghost, and to be honest, it wasn't far off from the truth.
Thus, he became pinned to the wall as Harry checked for any more injuries; his arms, neck — hell, he would've lifted up his hoodie if Peter hadn't stopped him. "I'm okay!" He insisted a little too loudly, "I just got too close to the action, okay? Spiderman got me out of there before-"
Harry's hands squeezed his shoulders, earning a pained hiss that Peter failed to withhold. Faces inches apart, Harry looked down and said through gritted teeth, every word coated in venom that jabbed at Peter like sharpened daggers; " Spiderman. He's dead the next time I see him."
Scrambling his mind for a response — anything to ease the tension, the words died on Peter's tongue. In fear of creating another argument like last time, he stayed quiet, dropping his head in defeat. It'd be for the best to reveal Spiderman's true identity and prevent this situation from escalating, but he got cut off.
"Promise me you'll try to be more careful, Pete. If I can't trust some superhero to protect you, who can I?" The way Harry spoke so softly, lips pursed into a deep frown and hands gently squeezing Peter's shoulders washed all the panic away.
Everything will be okay; he'll avoid sustaining any serious injuries, or at least obvious ones that he's unable to hide. He'll think of a way to convince Harry Spiderman isn't all that bad, and then he'll reveal the big secret. There's nothing to worry about.
Resting a hand on Harry's shoulder, he smiled. "I promise."
And Harry made sure to keep to his.
By giving Spiderman a switch punch to the face — a blow that would've broken a nose if it were anyone else. If not surrounded by shocked civilians pulling out phones to record, Peter would've discarded his mask right then and there, thrown it away and forced Harry to confront the facts. He had punched his best friend in the face.
At the same time, it didn't matter in the moment if he gave his identity away — he'd do anything to erase the fury directed at him. Not once in the many years they've known each other, have they verbally or physically fought over anything. Disputes were short and easily ruled out, being so few and far between, those couldn't even be counted as actual fights, disagreements or whatever you wanted to call it.
"What the hell was that for?!" He shouted, and instantly wished he had just evacuated the area instead, avoiding the chaos that followed. Harry grabbed him by his suit, yanking him forward and looking him dead in the eye.
"You're no hero, letting innocent civilians get hurt while you take all the glory!" He snaps, shoving Peter and causing him to stumble back. Gasps erupted from the crowd, preferring to witness the fight unfold rather than intervene. Harry had been in a couple scuffles over the years, particularly against fellow students at Horizon High — but he wasn't a fighter, only taking action when deemed necessary.
Right?
Maybe Peter didn't know him as well as he thought. "Hey, I don't want any trouble. I'm sorry if your friend got hurt, honestly, but I do the best I can to keep everyone safe." As soon as the words left his lips, hands half raised in defence, his body toppled to the floor, Harry on top of him.
It took both Anya and Miles to break them apart, though Peter didn't retaliate at all, only covering his face in the off-chance that Harry would reach for his mask. Even after they pulled Harry away, failing to calm him down and get a proper explanation, he continued to shout and insult Spiderman.
"That's for Peter Parker!"
Although Harry's punches didn't leave as much as a scratch, Peter didn't meet him at the cafe the following evening, or the morning afterwards before school. Word of the fight spread like wildfire, either painting Harry as a reckless and idiotic individual lashing out; or concluding that there were truth to his words, and portraying Spiderman as an untrustworthy hero putting lives in danger.
During the day, Peter would try to avoid him as much as possible; changing subjects around his fellow classmates at Horizon High whenever someone brought up the fight. As Spiderman, he'd turn a blind eye to Harry, trying his best to ignore the harsh gaze burning holes through the back of his head and hushed whispers shared between strangers.
But one way or another, their paths kept crossing, and Spiderman kept getting involved. Things only got more complicated when Miles retrieved his own powers, and connected the dots. In the blink of an eye, his excitement faded, replaced with genuine terror at the realization.
"Harry fought you!" He exclaimed, "he literally hates Spiderman with a burning passion — because he's worried about you! Oh my god, he doesn't have a clue!" Back and forth he paced, mouth hanging open and hands in the air as all Peter could do was watch and deeply sigh.
Then, Miles froze, and snapped his head to look at him. "You have to tell him."
The colour instantly faded from Peter's face, not wasting a second to shut down the ridiculous idea. "What? No! Maybe before the fight, but definitely not now!" The mere thought of Harry's reaction to the news he beat up — well, attempted to — his closest friend is heart-wrenching. It would absolutely destroy Harry and their friendship.
It's too much of a risk. Harry is all he has — Peter can't lose him, no matter what. Even if it involves letting him hate Spiderman, and getting into fights. As long as their connection remains a secret and Harry never finds out, then everything will be fine. He makes Miles promise, holding him by the shoulders with shaky hands and a loud, trembling voice.
"Okay, okay! I promise!" He said, hands raised. It took a second for Peter's heartbeat to return to a steady pace, as he slowly backed away, running a hand through his hair. "But you need to do something, before this ends badly," Miles warned.
Peter just laughed.
But a few days later, when he struggled to catch his breath and desperately searched for anything to hold onto after an exhausting fight, he started to regret his decisions. The ground swayed beneath his clumsy feet, edges of his vision blurring and worsening by the second. Each wheezy breath tore at his ribcage, as if a hand wrapped around his heart, constantly tightening and digging in sharp nails.
At the very least, Miles and he successfully defeated the villain. Hopefully, wherever Miles had wounded up, he was in much better condition. Due to him still being fairly new at the hero position, Peter had instinctively shield him from some hits, perhaps a little more than necessary.
But it's no big deal. Like every other instance, the wounds will heal and he'll be back on his feet come tomorrow, no evidence of the embarrassing beat-down remaining. Harry won't have a clue, they'll catch up at the cafe, apologize over the recent lack of communication and repair things with the snap of their fingers.
An invisible weight causes Peter to hunch over, his knees buckling on the verge of giving in. Each step shorter and less balanced than the last, he leans against a building wall. Slowly raising his head, a blurry outline of a figure stands a couple feet away, lacking any identifiable features.
Cotton and static fills his brain, leaving no room for strategic thinking; such as fleeing the scene. The last thing he needs is to collapse in the middle of public, right in front of a stranger and leave himself vulnerable to anything. Best case scenario, his identity is revealed, and the worst…
But escaping is out of the question. He manages to stagger a few steps forward before he freezes in place, and everything shuts down. His body falls forward, darkness enveloping his surroundings — but the impact never hits. A pair of arms catch him just seconds from the ground, and a familiar voice says, "You've got to be kidding me."
It's the last thing he hears.
Light dances on his eyelids, moonlight filtering in through open blinds and illuminating a fancy bedroom, casting shadows on dark wallpaper. The first thing Peter notices upon opening his eyes and adjusting to the lighting, is a silhouette standing on the balcony, muttering to themself and raking a hand through their hair.
Taking short, shallow breaths, he feels up his chest, fingers trailing the veins in his neck and lastly, his face. Which remains covered by his mask, and at the realization, he lets out a sigh of relief.
The figure on the balcony flinches.
Peter jumps to his feet, but a sharp, shooting pain in his right leg knocks him back down on his hands. Restraints aren't around his wrists or ankles, his web-shooter isn't missing and as far as he's aware, there's no new injuries. But a random person wouldn't transport him to a secret, second location without ill intentions. For all he knows, the person standing before him could be a villain playing out some cruel plan.
Yet, the person stepping into the moonlight has a face he recognizes.
"Harry?" He winces at how hoarse he sounds, the simple word tasting like broken glass against his throat. Holding onto the wall for support, he slowly stands partially upright, legs bent and body hunched over. Eyeing his surroundings, little details; such as a framed photograph of Harry and him on a bedside table, become familiar. "Where… am I?"
Harry stares bewildered, as if surprised to see him in his bedroom. Awkwardly straightening his posture, he looks around his bedroom, equally puzzled before shaking his head and clearing his throat. Though he opens his mouth to speak, the words refuse to be heard, leaving the two to stare silently at each other.
Until Peter attempts to step closer, causing him to grunt and hold his side. "Why did you-"
"Don't move." In an instant, Harry is at his aid, cautiously slinging an arm over his shoulder and helping him to the bed. Dried blood stains both of their hands, smudged on Harry's shirt and pants — he didn't think the wounds were that severe. Night has fallen, anywhere from one hour to three have passed, hopelessly the worst parts are fixed.
On the bright side, he isn't dead. On the other hand, the current situation isn't much better. Harry is sitting right beside him on the bed, barely any space between them. Their synchronized shaky breathing fills the silence, and surely, Harry has to have figured it out. The heir to Oscorp, a brilliant mind who'll go on to become an accomplished, beloved scientist would clock on immediately.
The lack of response doesn't make it any easier on Peter's heart. "I should really get going," he stammers, and although he nearly loses his balance upon standing, Harry ready to catch him, he manages to stand on his own. "My injuries will heal on their own, and I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I'd appreciate you not kidnapping me next time."
Hopefully there won't be a next time. If it had been anyone else, who knows what they could've done; oblivious civilian or twisted villain. But tomorrow will be the same story, someone will ambush Horizon High during his studies, or terrorize any other building in Manhatten, taunting him to throw himself right in the face of danger.
Again and again, they know he'll never refuse. Miles claims to have his back, that the two of them can fight together; but he's still learning the ropes, and the last thing Peter wants is for him to get seriously hurt — even if the injuries will be completely healed the next day, not a trace to be found.
But Harry reaches out, grabbing his wrist and gently tugging. "I wanted to apologize," he blurts out before any second guessing could shove the words back down.
He hasn't figured it out.
Eyes trailing to the floor, Harry's arm falls to his side. It's weird to see him look so… uncomfortable, brows drawn shoulders hunched, guilt etched into his features that are illuminated by the moonlight. Clenching his teeth, the words are forced out and far from soft, but it's an attempt. "I was being an asshole, I'm sorry for punching you. I just…"
Balling his hands into fists, he groans in frustration. What did Miles, or Anya and Gwen tell him? What could have possibly convinced him to lower his guard, and so something… out of character?
Peter tries to speak up, straining an awkward smile behind his mask, but is cut off. The sharp tone of Harry's voice makes him jump.
"My friend, Peter keeps getting hurt, and I'm scared for him. It's like danger always follows him, and if not even you can protect him, then who can?" He lifts his head to look at Peter, pleading and desperate. Like he expects Spiderman to have all the answers, to say something that'll wash all the worries away and make him think it'd been stupid to worry.
But there's nothing to say.
And he watches the hope drain from Harry's face, escaping his hollow eyes that are normally so bright and full of joy. Even if it's an empty promise, Peter would do anything to see that familiar smile one more time, just for a few seconds. Though, Harry cuts him off with a low chuckle and a shake of his head.
"He's been avoiding me ever since we had that stupid fight, and maybe I was kind of an idiot-"
"Kind of?"
They both tense. Peter clears his throat. "Sorry, sorry, go on."
It takes a second, and for a brief moment it seems that Harry is second guessing everything, and is about to shove Spiderman onto the balcony and demand he forget they ever had this conversation. Instead, he slots back into his sorrowful position, rambling under his breath just loud enough to be heard. "But I'm just worried about him, he's always insisted on doing things on his own, never accepting help from anyone — not even me!"
Peter almost talks out of turn, protesting that he doesn't need Harry's money, in spite of the bills piling up and the half-covered tuition fee for Horizon High constantly looming over his head. Luckily, Harry doesn't give him the chance to speak. "So, please, just… if you ever see him, try to keep him out of trouble. And I'm sorry for punching you in the face, and insulting you, and bringing you to my mansion-"
"Why did you do that, actually?" Peter asks, with a hint of amusement in his tone. It makes Harry stammer, which he slightly smiles at.
"I don't know! I just, you collapsed at my feet — what was I meant to do, call an ambulance? I didn't think you'd want that, with your whole 'secret identity' and all." Harry wildly gestures with his hands, standing up to walk to the centre of his room. A cold breeze enters through the open balcony, brushing against the curtains and causing them to dance.
In the many years Peter has known him, he's only been here a handful of times. Whenever he suggested it, even as kids, Harry would always back out and bring up their favorite cafe, or his house, or literally anywhere in Manhattan beside the mansion. Peter learnt not to question it.
Harry turns around to face him, a small smile tugging on the corner of his lips. "But you were hurt, so I had to do something… When I got here, I just… panicked, I guess," he admits with a halfhearted shrug. But the smile quickly fades.
"Hey, I forgive you, for lashing out and kidnapping me," Peter says, walking towards Harry, and chuckles at his glare. "You do… kinda have a point, if I'm honest; I'm still getting used to this whole… hero thing. People depend on me, and I need to learn how to keep everyone safe."
He isn't the first to point it out, either, he still remembers the sting of Gwen correcting his poor decision making. So far, no one has gotten hurt, aside from himself, but there's no telling when something could go wrong. When the time comes where he needs to make a split-second decision to save someone's life, or multiple lives, then he needs to be prepared.
But the mere thought terrifies him. The idea that multiple innocent lives at stake balance on his shoulders at all times. God, will he ever have a normal day again? Just a casual Saturday afternoon with Harry at the cafe or someplace new — or an ordinary day at Horizon High, working on anything other than perfecting Spiderman to its full potential.
"That includes your buddy Pete. I'm… really sorry for the last few mishaps, but I promise, I'll do my best to keep an eye on him." Shrugging, he smiles at Harry, and hopes it's obvious behind the mask and in his tone. "I promise."
Harry raises a brow, then returns the smile. "Maybe I can count on you after all, Spiderman."
"Maybe?"
He shrugs, his smile widening. "Gotta do more than give empty promises to earn my trust, dude. Next time something goes wrong, I'll be watching you."
Peter chuckles and rolls his eyes, making his way to the balcony. It's absolutely freezing, and he can't help but shiver; perhaps he should add a jacket or something to his costume. Jumping on top of the railing, he glances over his shoulder at Harry. "See you later, Osborn."
And he jumps.
The following morning, Harry is waiting at their usual table at the cafe, yet appears surprised when Peter walks through the door with the chime of a bell. Flashing a smile, he waves — and adores how instantly Harry's face lights up, grinning from ear to ear and pushing himself to his feet, bumping the table and nearly knocking over his drink.
"Pete!" From an outsider's perspective, it appears they haven't seen each other in weeks or better yet, months — rather than a few days. Admittedly, the two have never been apart for long, always attending the same school and classes, practically glued to each other's side for most of their lives. And without a hitch, they ease back into place like puzzle pieces, meant to be together.
"I didn't think you'd miss me that much." Peter laughs, sliding into the chair across from him, setting his identical drink down. "Really, Harry, what are we meant to do after graduation?"
Without missing a beat, Harry leans back in his chair and says, "Move in together, obviously."
They both laugh. Conversation flows naturally, like the couple days in-between never existed. Bruises don't litter Peter's skin, and although there's a tiny, stabbing pain in his right leg, he hides it effortlessly, swirling the ice cubes in his drink. Nothing will ever come between them, not the fact they're currently attending different academies, or a new secret identity.
He'll make sure of it.