Yay! Miracle of miracles: I finished Chapter 7 before 2015! Thank you all so much for your infinite patience and support – I love you guys!

Special Thanks to:

Aayla Security for inspirations and suggestions

SlashIsLaw for dramatically speeding up the completion of this chapter because it's her birthday! Er, was her birthday. Anyway. Happy Birthday, girl!

Last, but not least…YOU for reviewing, favoriting, following or reading!

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-:-

The Aftermath

Chapter 7

In Which Peter Tries Some Wooing

When Peter found Harry again, Harry was in a very good mood.

"Jim and Jeff Plates just vacated the premises," he informed Peter, pleased to no end.

This boded well for his impending confession of eternal love. Peter grinned cheerfully, "Like the rats they are,"

Harry grinned back and raised his glass in a theatrical fashion, "I'll drink to that."

Peter playfully clinked his own glass to Harry's, "To cowardly rodents,"

Harry even went so far as to take a sip after the mock-toast.

I'm liking my odds here.

"You really are something, buddy." Harry was suddenly serious again. Sincere, even.

An opening.

"Harry," Peter started solemnly. So here was the plan:

Step 1: Test the water;

Step 2: If there be no sharks, then full speed ahead;

Step 3: Enjoy the heavenly goodness of the grilled fish of true love.

He might have gone overboard with the fishing metaphors.

Harry eyed him warily at the solemn tone.

Peter shouldered on. "What do you look for in a relationship?"

Harry's eyes narrowed, "Relationship?"

"Romantic relationship," Peter clarified.

The moment of truth!

Harry rolled his eyes. "I've had it with romantic relationships."

…Oh.

Peter's distress was so obvious that Harry asked in suspicion, "Why do you look like someone's kicked a puppy?"

"Because…I'm so sad for you! So very sad…" Peter was indeed feeling very sad, but mostly for himself, "You'll never know the joy of finding true love…" He hoped his acting was believable.

"Like how so very happy you were after M.J. broke up with you?"

"At least I was so very happy when M.J. chose me over John Jameson." Who he still needed to apologize to.

"The so very happy journey doesn't justify the so very bitter end, pal,"

"But the so very – why are we even arguing about this?"

"Because you're feeling so very sad for me and I'm trying to cheer you up?"

"By bringing up the tragic love story of me and Mary Jane?"

"Well, what do you expect when…" Harry seemed to realize he was being unnecessarily mean again and awkwardly turned the sentence around, "…I'm clearly being an asshole?" He made a face, except it was at himself, "Sorry, Peter, old habits die hard. You were just worried about me, I know."

Peter felt a tiny bit guilty since he was actually just feeling sorry for himself, but Harry didn't need to know that. "It's okay, buddy. I guess I just want you to be happy."

Harry shrugged, "Well, don't cry for me, Peter Parker. The last time I tried to do relationship, shit happened. I'm happy to be single."

It'd always been Peter's curse to want to point out the flaws in people's logic, which was why he couldn't stop himself from blurting out: "But the last time you weren't even trying. You were just getting back at me for stealing your… Do you have any idea how much you sound like you got the same-sex version of Oedipus complex sometimes?"

Harry stared at him. First in shock. Then in disgust. "You are one sick human being, Spi – Peter. Can't a son love his dad?"

"Then why didn't you try to steal Aunt May instead of M.J.?"

"Because you've always had Aunt May's love – she loves you unconditionally. M.J., on the other hand…" Harry trailed off meaningfully, deliberately being an asshole this time, probably because he was pissed at Peter for trying to psychoanalyze him. Well, at least Peter thought Peter was doing a pretty decent job. There was just no pleasing some people, jeez.

Then Harry leveled him with a warning glare, "Can we stop talking about 'stealing' people now?"

Only now did Peter remember they were actually still at the gala. Oops. So maybe it was a good thing he got bitten by a shark during the first test, after all.

Peter made sure no one was paying attention to them before continuing in a low voice, "What I'm trying to say is, you've never tried any relationship for real, so how would you know it wouldn't be wonderful?"

Harry regarded him calculatingly, "Since when are you the lobbyist for romantic relationships?"

Crap. "Since…I decided you shouldn't be alone!"

Harry rolled his eyes, "I'm not alone. I have Bernard and Charlie and you."

Peter gaped at him. Harry said it so matter-of-factly, as if Peter living in his home for free was the most normal thing in the world, was the way it should be.

Peter wanted to cry tears of joy.

"Yes, you do, buddy." He confirmed sentimentally, "Yes, you do."

Harry narrowed his eyes, "Are you up to something? Because you're acting very suspicious right now."

Harry and his suspicious nature. "What – no. I'm not up to anything! Are you up to something?"

Harry sighed obnoxiously, "That cheap technique doesn't work on me, genius. I'm an evil businessman, remember?"

"You're not evil," Peter knew it was probably beside the point, but it was important that Harry stopped associating himself with negative words that could also be applied to his actually evil father.

"Fine, I'm an evil businessman with a heart of gold, whatever. Stop changing the subject."

Peter ignored him. "No, you're a good businessman with a heart of diamond."

"So I'm a philanthropist?"

"Yup. Wait, are you?"

"No. Negative earnings. And quit stalling. Why are you suddenly acting like the female lead of a Nora Ephron movie? And I don't even know what a Nora Ephron movie is."

"What?!" Peter bristled, "I'm obviously the male lead of a Nora Ephron movie."

Harry gave him a smug smile, "Exactly,"

Asshole. "Shut up."

Harry was annoyingly persistent. "Why are you acting like the male lead of a Nora Ephron movie?"

"Would you stop? Mind your own business." Peter hoped he sounded self-righteous instead of sheepish.

"You weren't minding your own business two minutes ago,"

After Harry proclaimed that he was done with relationships, Peter didn't really know how to proceed from there. But one thing was certain: he obviously shouldn't declare his undying love now. He needed a new plan. And a way out of this interrogation.

Eureka!

"I haven't paid my rent yet!" Peter exclaimed in faux distress, "I've got my job back and I'm still living in the Osborn Mansion for free!"

Harry granted him a condescending look, "It's a penthouse in Manhattan. You wouldn't be able to afford the rent with or without a job. And you're still sleeping on the landlord's bedroom floor – that calls for extra rent."

Wasn't Harry supposed to be nice to him now? Peter couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. And hurt. Fine, his pride was bruised. How could his one true love hurt him so?

Harry continued unfeelingly. "Not to mention, since when do family members pay each other rent?"

"Since mankind are consumed by greed and…"

Peter realized what Harry just said. He stared at Harry in stunned silence. Happy, stunned silence, because Harry had also given him the not insulting but still condescending You're just being ridiculous look as if the sheer idea of Peter paying him rents was absurd. Peter would take that particular breed of condescending any day.

Harry waited a whole five seconds before getting impatient again. "You're surprised?" he questioned Peter's wide-eyed stare, "I told you many times that you're my family."

Peter shook himself out of the shock. "But those were before –" he lowered his voice even more, "You know. I didn't dare presume I'm back in your good graces enough to be considered family by you again." His voice sounded a little weird at the end. He cleared his throat self-consciously. Damn, this whole evening was making him so embarrassingly emotional. First Bill, then Harry, then Bill, and now Harry again.

Unlike before, Harry didn't roll his eyes or sigh in irritation. He gave him a frown that was somehow warm. "Well, you are my family. So shut up about the rent bullshit."

For the first time in his heroic, altruistic life, Peter wanted to kiss his best friend. He really, really wanted to.

Harry was then called away by another acquaintance of his, so the interrogation was finally over for now and the rest of the evening went by peacefully. In the end, the Mayor concluded the gala with a speech and thanked everyone for attending. Peter was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go home and drop unconscious on his beloved mattress.

This wasn't the first time he called the Mansion home.

"C'mon, Peter," Harry showed up next to him, "Time to go home."

And it wasn't the first time Harry called it their home.

-:-

It was freezing when they stepped outside with the departing crowd. It snowed the day before, making the temperature extra low. Peter winced as the ice cold wind hit him square in the face the moment he left the warm air conditioning of the building. Harry stood next to him, not even batting an eye. Then Peter remembered the Goblin serum gave him not only superior strength, eyesight, hearing and agility, but also better tolerance of extreme temperatures.

The radioactive spider was an irresponsible dick. Why didn't it think of giving Peter better temperature tolerance, too? Arachnids were so selfishly lazy these days.

But all that aside, Harry in his black (Peter wasn't even surprised anymore) overcoat really looked, well, almost regal. Peter suspected he was just being lovesick and biased.

They were waiting on the steps for Tim to drive the car over. Peter smiled fondly at the memory of exiting the car after Harry when they arrived at the gala that evening. Sure, he was a big shot as Spider-Man and everyone loved him, but that was the first time Peter Parker was considered a big shot, because apparently if you arrived with a business big shot like Harry, you were considered Important and Worthy of Respect. It was pretty glamorous. Now he knew why so many people wanted to be celebrities.

Tires screeched obnoxiously as a strange black and green car swerved near the wide sidewalk. Peter suddenly knew what was happening. Before he could act, the car's door swung open and the driver grabbed a gray-haired fifty-something man, one of the rich and powerful-looking guests also waiting for their chauffeurs, into the car, all without the car stopping. The man didn't even have time to yelp before the car door was slammed shut and the oddly colored car sped away fast.

The crowd were in a frenzy. Some people screamed, some gasped, some yelled for someone to call the police.

Spider-Man was already swinging after the kidnapper. He hadn't had time to tell Harry he was going after the bastard, but hopefully his friend would easily figure out what his sudden disappearance meant.

The kidnapper had just run two red lights and almost hit an elderly lady. Peter swung as fast as he could after the car, which was speeding at an almost impossible (and obviously illegal) speed. The weird car was one of those "tricked out" cars. It was black but had outrageous giant, green exhaust pipes sticking out of its sides like those punk cars in the movies. The noises its engines made were simply infuriating. Showoff.

When he finally caught up with the vehicle, he leapt and landed on the hood with a loud thump. The kidnapper, a race car driver wannabe wearing a pretentious all-black racing suit complete with an equally pretentious all-black racing helmet, cursed in shock ("What the –?!") but managed not to swerve the car in surprise. The kidnapped guy was in the back, hands duct taped together and looking very frightened.

Peter smashed the windshield with one punch, and he was going to deliver his clever automobile pun-filled comment when he stopped abruptly. And simply stared.

"You've got bobble-heads?! Of ME?!"

There were at least eight Spider-Man bobble-heads on the dashboard.

The kidnapper replied happily, "And air-fresheners. And dashboard figures. Dude, you name it. I'm your biggest fan!"

Before Peter could assure himself this wasn't one of his narcissistic dreams, the kidnapper held up a Sharpie, "Say, could you sign some of my stuff?"

"Sure, I'd lo – NO!" Peter said firmly, more to himself than to the kidnapper. "Tell you what, how 'bout you let that nice gentleman go and turn yourself in to the police? I'll sign as many of your stuff as you want."

The kidnapper actually considered as he kept on driving.

Just to sweeten the deal: "And we'll even take a picture together."

The kidnapper's inner struggle looked painful.

"And I'll sign the picture, too."

The kidnapper struggled internally for another whole minute before finally making up his mind.

"Nope. Boss would kill me." He pressed a button.

Peter yelped in pain as he got electrocuted and thrown off the speeding vehicle completely. He managed to shoot webbing out in time to stick it onto the car's rear bumper and he held onto the webbing for dear life. Around him (and the car), cars honked, tires screeched, police sirens wailed. Peter nearly got hit by other cars. Twice.

"Hey! Slow down, will ya?!" He shouted as he narrowly avoided another passing car.

Turned out Knight Rider here had a supervillain name, too. And just as cheesy: Overdrive. Peter found out about this as he was dragged behind the vehicle only because this Overdrive loved announcing his name to the world: "Overdrive comin' through!", "Out of the way, losers! Make way for Overdrive!"

Peter had been inching towards the car via moving along the webbing with his hands. It was difficult and dangerously easy for his hands to slip since Overdrive was trying his hardest to shake Spidey off. Or slam him into oncoming traffic. Jerkass.

Peter was finally close enough. He flipped onto the car's rear and crashed his fist through the back window. The kidnapped guy stared at him in shock and relief. Peter didn't have time to explain – who knew when he'd get electrocuted again? – and pulled the man out.

"God bless you, Spider-Man," the man breathed once he was on the car's rear with Peter. Peter was flattered the guy had so much faith in him when he wasn't even out of danger yet. Peter quickly ripped the duct tape off his bound hands.

"Hang on to me!" said Peter urgently as he put an arm around the man's middle. The man immediately did as told and Peter slung a string of webbing onto a nearby building and swung them both off the dangerous car.

Peter landed them safely on the sidewalk. Reporters and police quickly swarmed around them.

"Senator Silva! Do you have any comment on this attempted abduction?"

"Senator, do you think your political rivals are behind this abduction?"

The police shoved the enthusiastic reporters back and asked the guy, Senator Silva, to let the medical staff check him over for injuries.

Well, the senator seemed to be in good hands. But New York City wasn't. Not when Overdrive was still at large.

Peter swiftly got back into the sky and swung after his crazy, speeding fanboy. Too bad his super fan had to be a supervillain, too. Life just wasn't fair sometimes.

Upon aerial observation, Overdrive was heading towards the Brooklyn Bridge. Peter swung ahead and took in the road conditions. He quickly concluded which route Overdrive must be intending to take since that was the only one without any traffic at this time of day. Fine, without heavy traffic; this was still New York, after all. Peter got ahead of the black-green punk car and he did something he didn't really expect himself to ever do.

He spun a web. And not one of those horizontal webs where he used to catch fallen people or create romantic atmosphere for he and Mary Jane's park dates, either. It was an honest, hardcore, vertical web that he made for the sole purpose of waiting for his prey to run into and get stuck. Great, now he sounded like a man-eating were-spider. He really needed to get some sleep. And he missed his mattress like crazy.

It didn't take long for Overdrive and his Crime-Mobile to show up and promptly run straight into the waiting web. Peter was slightly disturbed by the jolt of thrill he got as he witnessed his web catch and trap the punk vehicle. Was that how spiders felt whenever their webs caught something? Well, it was a pretty magnificent web, so symmetrical and geometrical… Anyway.

Overdrive cursed and swore loudly as he jumped out of the trapped car in panic.

"Oh no you don't," Peter tripped the escaping criminal with a well-aimed web blob. Before Overdrive could get up, the police descended upon him. Within minutes, he was cuffed and stuffed into a police car.

"You did it again, Spidey," one of the officers saluted Peter reverently while the rest of the police dealt with the scene of capture and the punk car hung tangled in the giant web, "New York thanks you."

This, this right here, was what made everything worth it. Peter smiled behind his mask, "Just glad to be of assistance, offi –"

A strange whirring whine.

Peter turned his head and found the punk car transforming before his very eyes. Within seconds, the punk car was no longer black and green. Or even a punk car. It was a regular blue sedan.

"Holy shit…" the officer murmured next to him.

Holy shit.

Peter rushed towards the police car where Overdrive was locked in. It was too late; the police car transformed with a loud whirring whine of its own. Where once was a white and blue police vehicle now stood another black and green punk car with enormous exhaust pipes – this time even with a rocket propeller on top.

Before Peter could shoot any webbing at Crime-Mobile 2.0, it sped away as the asshole Overdrive bade all of them farewell with an obnoxious: "So long, SUCKERS!"

Peter was so mad at himself as he swung after the new punk car. How could he think it was over?! Overdrive was a supervillain, so of course he had super powers. Why did he think it was a good idea to leave the bastard alone in a car? Why didn't he figure out the bastard's super power sooner?! Of course his power was to trick out vehicles!

Interesting little power, by the way. Kind of cool, really.

Overdrive's brand new Crime-Mobile blazed through the streets onto the Brooklyn Bridge, and drivers scrambled to get their cars out of the way of the crazy rocket car. Just as Peter feared, the panic Overdrive caused on the bridge led to a severe collision between an SUV and a sedan. The crash left the sedan smashed under the SUV, trapping the sedan driver, a teenager. The SUV driver, a middle-aged man, got out of the car and tried to help the trapped kid. But Overdrive's car was driving too fast to stop in time not to crash into the wreck at the middle of the bridge.

"Shit!" Overdrive cursed as he braked the vehicle desperately, his tires piercingly screeching, but could do nothing about the momentum carrying his car forward. The SUV driver stared at the fast approaching black car in panic and fear but couldn't bring himself to abandon the trapped kid.

Peter was out of time. He had no time to stop Overdrive's car with webbing. He had no time to move the wrecked SUV and get the trapped teenager out. There was only one thing he could do.

He leapt in front of the wreck and the kid, knocking the SUV driver out of the way in the process – the guy didn't need to die, too – and hoping against hope that he would survive this.

Well, he knew he wasn't going to die. Maybe a couple of broken ribs and other bones, but he'd live for sure. He just wished it wouldn't hurt too much. Who was he kidding? He was using himself as a meat shield against three tons of speeding metal. It was going to hurt like hell. He only wished he wouldn't pass out afterwards, because that would be really embarrassing. He wished he were Superman instead, the Man of Steel and all that.

Overdrive's stupid car's headlights were almost right in his face. He squeezed his eyes shut and stood firm, bracing himself for impact. Oh god oh god oh god –

A thunderous crash of metal on metal.

Peter snapped his eyes open and saw Crime-Mobile getting rammed off the bridge by a cab. He acted before he had time to think about what'd just happened and leapt off the bridge with the now wrecked punk car.

After webbing Crime-Mobile and the idiot Overdrive securely to the side of the Brooklyn Bridge, Peter immediately swung back on to the bridge and landed next to the heroic cab (whose engine was unfortunately squished) to make sure the heroic cab driver was fine.

"Hey, buddy, are you – HARRY?!"

Peter gaped as Harry the cab driver got out of the cab, visibly shaken from the, well, self-initiated crash.

"No, it's Jimmy Fallon." Harry said sarcastically as he touched his own face to ensure it was unscathed. Once he knew for sure his hundred thousand-dollar face was safe and sound, he gave Peter the stink eye again. "What were you thinking?"

"What was I – what were you thinking?!" Peter didn't mean to yell, but Harry could've gotten himself killed. "Are you crazy?!"

"Not as much as you, Meat Shield," Harry crossed his arms calmly despite his post-car crash disheveled look. "Now get me outta here before somebody sees me."

He was right. Peter could hear police sirens in the distance, and with police came press. But first, the trapped teenager. Peter turned around and was relieved to find the poor kid, who thankfully wasn't seriously injured, was already out of the wreck with the help of the SUV driver.

Peter made sure both drivers would be fine and left an autograph next to an overjoyed Overdrive (he was his biggest fan) before quickly putting an arm around Harry's middle. "I thought you weren't interested," he couldn't help but griped a little. Seriously, after all those no's to Peter's swinging invitations, look who needed swinging now?

Harry didn't even narrow his eyes. "I'm not. I just took pity on you."

"Riiight," That was a lame comeback, but Peter didn't have time to come up with something better as he leapt off the Brooklyn Bridge with Harry, swiftly swinging away under the bridge to avoid being seen.

-:-

This was…awkward. And wonderful. But still really awkward. Peter was honest-to-god in love with Harry and Harry was practically in his arm. They were pressed together. He could feel Harry breathing. If not for the mask, he would have been able to feel Harry's every breath on his face.

The night air was still freezing, but Peter didn't notice at all because he was too distracted by the heady feeling of getting pressed up together with Harry. Harry was pretty cold to be pressed together with, to be honest, what with his many layers of thick expensive clothes, but the thought alone was enough to make his face heat up. Good thing he had his mask on, or Harry would know he was blushing like he was in high school again.

Harry clung to Peter tightly, tense and jaw clenched and anxiously frowning, as if he was afraid he might fall to his death any minute.

"Relax, buddy," Peter assured him, "I'm not gonna drop you,"

Apparently Harry could still roll his eyes regardless of how nervous and scared he was. "Excuse me for being skeptical of your spider web,"

Peter was offended on his perfectly fine web's behalf, "I'll have you know it's strong enough to stop a runaway train,"

"Well, I'm not a train, am I?"

"…Harry, that doesn't even make sense."

"Whatever,"

If good ol' swinging could get to him so easily, Peter wondered how he would feel about…

"Hey, wanna do a front flip?"

Harry yelped, "What?!"

And that was exactly what Peter did.

It was a perfect front flip, too. Definitely a 10. Okay, so maybe Peter was also trying to impress Harry.

When they were done and back to swinging, Harry was clinging and gasping like he was genuinely afraid.

Peter realized in dismay that he'd overdone it. He wanted to impress Harry, not frighten him. Feeling a little guilty, he tightened his hold on his friend to try to reassure him, but he was also confused. "You're never nervous when you're on the Glider,"

Harry was still panting and sounded more than a little pissed off, "Because that is a solid, reliable piece of machinery that I've programmed myself, genius, not some human spider web from your wrists."

Peter sighed. Of all the passengers of the Spidey Express, Harry, his soulmate, the guy he was trying to impress, just had to be the only one to hate the experience. Was it normal Harry was harder to impress than Mary Jane? Because Mary Jane had been thrilled when he took her swinging for the first time and she was practically swooning afterwards. Well, of course Harry was hard to impress: he was Harry, unpredictable, grumpy and paranoid. Peter was suddenly overwhelmed by doubt and despair. Could it be that he'd never really understand Harry? That he could never make Harry love him back?

But sometimes Harry got impressed by the smallest things, too, like that one time Peter reminded him he was better than those Harvard MBAs combined, and when he got rid of the Plates assholes for him. Perhaps it wasn't completely hopeless after all. He could do this. He could impress Harry. He could court him and woo him so hard that he would fall in love with him, too.

Harry's desperate clinging was kind of nice, though. It wasn't everyday he held onto Peter like this. Correction: he'd never held onto Peter like this before. Ever. Peter, although still feeling guilty and sheepish, was totally enjoying this.

Could Harry feel his muscles and abs? Thanks to the radioactive spider, Peter was, dare he say it, buff, so Harry must be able to feel it, right? Especially with the clinging, the serum-enhanced senses and the skintight Spider suit.

But what if Harry was completely straight? Wait, no, he found Peter attractive, so he couldn't be completely straight. But did he even like muscles and abs? What if he only liked Peter's face? What if he hated muscles and abs? Just like he was the only person to hate swinging, he might very well be the only person to hate muscles and abs.

"Peter, are you hyperventilating?" Harry asked, exasperated.

Was he? Oh spit. Get a grip, Parker, stop acting like a lovesick teenager! "I'm just exhausted," Peter took a few deep breaths to calm himself, "because of Overdrive and his stupid cars."

He never did thank Harry for saving him from a world of pain.

"And, er, thank you for the help back there." Peter now felt like such an asshole for traumatizing Harry with the front flip earlier. "You saved my life."

"Nah, I just saved your ribs." Harry was finally marginally relaxed and less tense. He'd probably got used to the swinging at last. "But you're welcome."

"You know, that was the third time you helped me fight supervillains," Peter mused, "First Flint Marko and Eddie, then Shocker, and now Overdrive." He turned to look at Harry, who looked back at him, "Thank you, really." He knew he sounded sentimental, but screw it. "You have no idea how much it means to me to finally not face those crooks alone."

Harry smiled kind of fondly, kind of warmly. Either way, it was a very nice smile. And that was another great thing about swinging with Harry: he had the perfect excuse to stare at Harry up close and personal. "Well, I can't just let my best friend get himself killed, can I?"

Peter really wanted to kiss Harry. He wondered how soft Harry's lips would be.

Now he was just being creepy and pathetic, and this was even worse than when he was pining for Mary Jane.

Then Harry had to ruin the moment.

"Although," Harry's tone sent Peter into instant Defense Mode. "If you hadn't been a reckless lunatic, you wouldn't have needed my help in the first place."

"You were the one crashing yourself into Overdrive,"

"And you were going to use yourself as a meat shield,"

"The worst that could happen to me was a couple of broken bones, but you could've died!"

Harry snorted, "Ye of little faith for the serum,"

"You weren't there," Peter hated the sudden lump in his throat, "Well, you were, but you were unconscious. I had to rush you, dying, to the hospital, twice, and let me tell you, you still aren't made of steel after the serum. I had to watch you almost die…" He made himself shut up before he embarrassed himself further by sounding even more like a distressed mother.

Harry looked at him silently, and sighed. "Sorry," he said almost shamefacedly.

Peter was finally able to swallow the annoying lump down, "It's okay. Just, don't ever do something like that again,"

Harry felt guilty enough that he actually nodded.

Then he just had to ruin the moment again.

"I'm sorry I scared you with that stunt I pulled, but I'm not sorry I did it, because someone left me with no choice."

You've got to be kidding me. Peter couldn't believe Harry's one-track mind; after all this emotional outpouring, he still wanted to talk about Peter's "recklessness", as if Peter had ever done anything reckless in his life.

Peter sighed loudly, just to make sure Harry heard it.

"What," Harry snapped immediately, "You think I'm not worried about you all the time?"

"…You're worried about me all the time?"

"As usual, you're missing the point," Harry said quickly, too quickly, which spoke volumes to Peter, "The point is, you shouldn't do something like that ever again."

Peter huffed. "I'll only promise that if you promise you wouldn't do something like that ever again."

They really should stop with the meaningful, pointed emphases. It was getting confusing.

"Only you can make a conversation about you become one about me," Harry was clearly exasperated, but he actually looked a tiny bit flattered, too. Well, he should be – Peter had been nothing but hopelessly preoccupied with him for the past couple of hours. Then he gave Peter a challenging, obnoxious look. "Fine,"

"Fine," like Peter was ever going to back down from a challenge like that.

They both knew Peter would just keep doing what he thought was necessary to protect the fine residents of New York, and Harry would just keep doing what he thought was necessary to keep Peter alive. Somehow that was good enough for them both. Peter wondered why they even had this argument in the first place.

Because we really do care about each other. And it just served to make him want to kiss Harry more. Jeez.

The Osborn Mansion was suddenly in sight in all its classy, foreboding glory. Harry let out a relieved sigh as they landed on solid rooftop. Peter was more than a little disappointed that their impromptu swinging "date" ended so soon. They were in the rooftop garden – one of the many perks of owning a penthouse – and Harry led them to the door leading back inside the mansion.

Peter wanted this moment to last. As soon as they were back inside, Harry would get on the phone again, and Peter would probably just pass out on his lovely mattress.

"Where did you get the cab?" Peter asked as he took off his mask. It was a question he'd been wondering about.

Harry stopped in his track, "When you disappeared and Spider-Man showed up, I told Tim to drive the car home. And I bought the cab off of a cab driver on the street."

"…Why?"

"Because that 'Overdrive' guy obviously got a car chase-complex, and you might be in trouble, and I didn't feel like wrecking my dad's Rolls-Royce."

"But you didn't even know I might be in trouble."

Harry shrugged. "Better safe than sorry, right? Besides, no offence, Peter, but you're always in trouble."

"It's not my fault I'm heroic and altruistic,"

"Right,"

"Wait." Peter could feel himself getting emotional again. Damn it. Being secretly in love with your best friend was so hard. "So you bought a taxi from a random taxi driver just because I might be in trouble?"

"I told you, you're always in trou –"

Before Peter could stop himself, he stepped forward and hugged Harry. Harry stiffened at first, but then relaxed and patted him on the back brotherly, like how they used to.

Peter reminded himself not to get too clingy (or cheesy) and pulled back to look at Harry, "It means the world to me, buddy. Spider-Man has always been alone. He faces everything by himself." He swallowed, "After M.J. found out about Spidey, I was so relieved to finally have someone to talk to about it, but what you give me is even more than that. M.J. listened and gave me advice. You did all that and actually fought them with me. For the first time, Spider-Man has a partner."

Harry looked at him strangely, "…You're welcome?"

For some unfathomable reason, Harry didn't seem particularly moved. In fact, he looked almost like he was weirded out. Hold on. The slightly judgmental staring, the cautious frown – he was definitely weirded out! Peter gave an inward sigh. Was he being too cheesy? Probably. Wooing Mary Jane was so much easier.

But Peter was still happy, so he decided to finally dilute the cheesiness overload. "We could be like Batman and Robin! The dynamic duo!"

Harry was back in his element again instantly. He snorted. "I have a company to run, genius. I don't have time for superhero bullshit. And there's no way in hell I'd be your sidekick."

"Robin's not a sidekick," Peter reminded him patronizingly, "He's Batman's partner. They're equals."

"That doesn't even matter, because now that I think about it, I'm obviously Batman." Harry crossed his arms smugly, "I'm all black and you're the guy in a brightly colored costume."

"Harry, you're hilarious. Who's the veteran crime-fighter between the two of us? Though you do have Alfred…"

"Oh no, oh no you don't. Leave Bernard out of this, you stereotyping bastard. You know what, I don't even wanna be that loser Bruce Wayne who doesn't give a shit about his own company."

"How can you say that?! He's too busy saving Gotham City!"

"Why are we still talking about this? Batman's all yours, go ahead, I don't want him."

There was an awkward pause before they burst out laughing.

"That was wrong on so many levels," Peter gasped out between laughter.

"I didn't know we had it in us to both go after Batman," Harry tried to make himself stop laughing, but was still snorting in laughter uncontrollably.

Eventually, they did manage to stop their immature laughing at an immature joke. Harry cleared his throat, "Seriously, though, I do have a company to run, and I really don't have time for superhero bullshit."

Peter rolled his eyes, "As if I'd let you put yourself in danger on a daily basis," Every once in a while to get Peter out of a tight spot? Fine. Every single day? Never.

Harry approved and nodded, "Because Oscorp's stock price can't take another hit,"

"Because I care about you," Sometimes Harry's obsession with Oscorp bordered on unhealthy.

Harry's eyes widened a bit at the open declaration of caring. Then he looked away again, made an excuse of having a phone call to make and quickly escaped back into the Mansion. It might be dark, but Peter's eyes saw it clear as day: Harry's ears had flushed red.

-:-

Peter, completely exhausted, passed out on his beloved mattress immediately after he took a shower and changed into his pajamas. When he woke up, it was almost lunchtime the next day. Well, it was winter break and Sunday, so it was only appropriate that he slept the morning away.

Peter sat up in his nest of pillows, blankets and covers contently and looked around. Harry's bed was empty and appeared untouched, as usual, as if his friend hadn't even slept in it the night before, but Peter knew Harry had simply got up early and made his bed.

Pining was never fun. Now that he knew he was in love with Harry, he just wanted to see him all the time. He hoped his friend hadn't gone to the Oscorp Building or somewhere equally depressing. It was a Sunday, after all.

When Peter went downstairs, he heard Harry (surprise, surprise) talking on the phone in his study, and then he was greeted by the unexpected but incredibly charming sight of Bernard and Charlie putting up Christmas decorations together.

"Good morning, Mr. Parker," Bernard greeted brightly, and Charlie rolled over to Peter, holding a pretty blue glass ornament between his scythes. The robot stopped in front of Peter, whistled cheerfully, and dropped the ornament.

What the heck?!

It was intentional, it was blatantly intentional. Did Charlie catch a virus?

Peter managed to catch the ornament before it could tragically shatter on the floor. "What is with you?!" he demanded of the crazy mantis.

Charlie just did his bizarre robo-laugh and rolled back to Bernard's side. To Peter's dismay, not only did Bernard not reprimand Charlie, he actually patted the mantis on the head fondly. This proved that even robots could be spoiled rotten.

Peter was going to put the glass ornament down when he noticed he was actually standing right next to the Christmas tree. It was a very nice tree, too. Though as of yet undecorated, it was tall and regal.

Peter looked at the tree, then looked at the blue ornament in his hand, then looked at the tree again. Oh. Charlie really was a sweetheart. Though he still needed to work on his prankster complex.

Well, Peter wasn't really hungry for breakfast, and they would have lunch soon, anyway.

-:-

"What do you think?" Peter asked Harry eagerly as his friend inspected the half-decorated Christmas tree while Bernard and Charlie prepared lunch.

"Half-finished," said Harry drily.

"Of course it's half-finished," Peter said patronizingly because being patronizing to patronizing assholes like Harry was very fulfilling, "So you can do the other half."

Harry offered a sarcastic smile, "Why would I do that?"

"Because you love Christmas trees."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do. I remember how in love you were with them when we were kids."

"Exactly. Kids."

"Oh, Harry," Peter sighed in melodramatic sympathy, "I understand your insecurity and your need to reassure yourself of your 'tough guy' image,"

Harry snorted, "Says the guy wearing tights every day,"

Peter pfft'd. "Ladies happen to appreciate my muscular physique. Anyway, you can't just fall out of love with Christmas trees."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because they're Christmas trees."

"You know where to find me when you start to make more sense," And Harry rudely picked up the Sunday newspaper and began reading.

Peter rolled his eyes. "You were still in love with Christmas trees last Christmas. What happened? Are you cheating on them with Christmas wreaths?"

Harry lowered the Wall Street Journal and gave him a stern glare, "What Christmas wreaths and I do in private is none of your business."

He even said it with a straight face, completely serious.

Peter snorted in suppressed mirth, then he just gave up and laughed. Harry joked with him now. Wow.

Harry didn't laugh with him, but he did look rather pleased with himself.

"Seriously, though," Peter persisted after he was done laughing, "Why not?"

Harry grunted in annoyance. "I'm just not in the mood," then he resumed reading newspaper.

He looked stressed out. Very stressed out. Peter didn't like seeing his one true love so stressed out.

"You know," he ventured, "I heard tell decorating Christmas trees could be very relaxing, take your mind off things."

Harry lowered the newspaper again in irritation, "You just don't give up, do you?"

"Nope."

Harry heaved out a loud dramatic sigh. "Fine. After dinner."

If Peter could high-five himself, he would.

-:-

After dinner, Peter helped Bernard and Charlie put up the last of the decorations in the living room. It was fun and made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It cleared his mind, too, because he finally made up his mind about what he would do about his Harry Thing when he was hanging up the Christmas stockings along the fireplace mantel. They were very inspiring stockings.

Harry said he was done with romance, but if Peter had learned anything from the couple of weeks he'd spent with his friend, it was Harry rarely knew what he really wanted. Just like Peter had asked, how would he know his next relationship wouldn't turn out to be beautiful? Especially because his next relationship would be with the one and only Spider-Man, if Peter's plan came through.

Here was the plan, the result of countless hours of careful deliberation:

Woo Harry.

Brilliant, right? No wonder he was a future Nobel laureate.

He would woo Harry and rock his world. Considering even the fair Mary Jane Watson eventually got together with him, he thought his chances were pretty good. But he must proceed slowly and carefully since he wouldn't want to spook Harry. No. It must be a gradual process. Given Harry's unpredictable nature, it would be pointless to chart out every step exactly, but the general direction of the plan was thus: woo Harry whilst subtly flirt with Harry and gauge Harry's reaction; if Harry's reciprocation of his feelings could be confirmed, he would confess his affection. Ideally, he'd woo Harry so hard that Harry would confess his affection first, thereby saving Peter the embarrassment of awkwardly confessing his love. In the unfortunate event that Harry wasn't romantically interested in him, well, woo harder. There, he'd covered every possible scenario.

Speaking of the guy, wasn't he supposed to decorate the other half of the Christmas tree after dinner?

Peter eyed Harry, who was reading something on his black laptop on the couch nearby. Peter couldn't help but exchange a smile with Bernard: Harry used to stay in his study all day, now he actually made a point of staying near his family. Peter dreamily recalled the wondrous moment when Harry proclaimed him his family again the night before. He really did love the guy.

"What are you working on, buddy?" Peter asked when he noticed Harry's deep frown at the laptop screen.

"Looking at the Annual Letter to Shareholders and the Annual Report," Harry said without looking up, still frowning, "These were sent out a month ago, and I need to make sure I remember every single word in them."

Peter frowned, "Why the frown, though?"

Harry looked up at him, tense and worried, "The balance sheet and income statement are embarrassing. Only the cash flow statement is relatively presentable."

Peter hoped his cheerful smile and cheerful self-deprecation could cheer Harry up, "You lost me at 'balance sheet'."

Harry studied him briefly, and then smiled a little, "Thanks for trying, buddy." He went back to frowning at the screen, but he did look marginally less depressed.

Peter knew what would cheer him up for real.

"Just so you know…"

Harry looked up at him again.

"It's after dinner now, and you said…" Peter gestured the still half-finished Christmas tree with a dramatic sweep of his hand. Then he added hastily at Harry's calculating gaze at the tree, "Unless, of course, you're not done with your sheets and statements yet!"

"I'm done, actually," Harry closed the lid of his laptop and put it on the coffee table, "I memorized the whole thing before we sent them out. I was just making sure I hadn't got anything wrong."

Harry got to his feet and walked over to the waiting Christmas tree. He studied the tree beside Peter, "Any suggestions?"

Peter shrugged, "Whatever you want, I guess. There's no pattern or anything like that. I'm not an artist."

"I don't know…" Harry glanced at him, "You kind of are."

Peter perked up, "Really?"

Harry turned his attention back to the tree, "You're extremely well-versed in the art of Spreading Cheer, Christmas or otherwise."

Peter stared at Harry. "Was that…a compliment?"

Harry shrugged, obviously trying for nonchalant but appearing self-conscious instead, "Just stating the truth."

Peter grinned. Harry would even give compliments now. They were almost like real best friends again.

Peter turned back to the tree happily. It was truly a very nice tree; fake but looked very real. "I think people should just buy fake Christmas trees like us. Fewer trees would get chopped off for no legitimate reasons. More environmentally friendly."

Harry arched an eyebrow at him, "That sounds awesome. Why don't you go hug a tree?"

The jibe was friendly with no malice behind, so Peter didn't take offense.

"Are you calling me a tree hugger?"

"Aren't you?"

"Well, I'm a spider,"

"So you hug trees for a living,"

"Exactly,"

Harry chuckled lightly, "That, was lame,"

"You started it," Peter informed him helpfully.

"I know."

"And we've been standing here not-decorating the tree for the last five minutes,"

"Shut up."

As Peter put ornaments on the Christmas tree with Harry, he still couldn't quite believe conversing with Harry as equals was in fact normal now. Thinking about all those scary passive-aggressive talks they had before, Peter was amazed at how far he'd come, how far they'd both come. He still wanted to kiss Harry. Would it be magical if he kissed Harry in front of the Christmas tree? Would it be magical if they kissed under the mistletoe? Wait, there was no mistletoes here in the Mansion. Better not get ahead of yourself, Parker. He reminded himself sternly and refocused his attention on the tree.

-:-

"You really are done with your work, huh?" Peter, sitting on his lovely mattress, said in wonder as Harry left the bathroom after brushing his teeth. "I mean, you're usually talking on the phone or in your study when I go to bed. Mattress. When I go to mattress."

Harry smiled wryly in grudging amusement, then said, "This occurrence is an outlier, so exclude it from the data set."

Peter sniggered. "Nerd,"

Harry held up his head haughtily, "Proudly so. Nerd."

Peter shot back good-humoredly, "Proudly so."

They were done with all the decorations, and the Mansion now looked like one of those pretty, Christmassy houses in the movies; its nice, elegant structures definitely helped. It looked cozy, too. Who'd have thought Peter would ever call the formerly creepy, cold Osborn Mansion cozy?

Peter mused happily as he began to change into his pajamas. After he pulled his shirt off over his head, he saw Harry, already in his pajamas, staring at him awkwardly. He was staring at his abs.

So Harry didn't hate abs. What a relief.

Quick, Parker, woo him.

"See something you like?" Peter winked jokingly, sincerely hoping he came off as harmlessly flirtatious instead of obnoxious.

Harry promptly snapped out of his daze. He tried to look unimpressed and rolled his eyes for good measure, "Don't flatter yourself."

The he awkwardly got into his bed and turned his back on Peter, saying curtly, "Good night."

The lamp on the nightstand was still on, so Peter saw it even clearer this time: Harry's ears were red again.

Woo-O-Meter: 50 of 100

-:-

Peter actually liked Mondays during winter break; when everyone else was groggy and unhappy about having to go to work, he, as a student, was thoroughly enjoying his break. There was just something very appealing about having fun while everybody else was working.

Well, he wasn't exactly 'having fun'. He was patrolling. But there was always a visible drop in crime rate immediately after a major skirmish between good and evil, so right now, two days after the little excitement on Saturday night, he once again found himself brooding on top of the Chrysler Building.

How was Aunt May? Probably enjoying the California sunshine. Would she be tanned when she got back? Peter hoped she'd put on enough sunscreen. He had heard disturbing tales of California-style sunburns. Maybe he should call her to make sure she was fine.

And what was Harry doing? Probably doing business stuff in his office. Poor guy. The Shareholder Meeting was next week, and he must be panicking right now.

Well, it was Peter's sacred duty as Harry's wooer to ensure his happiness. That, and he just kind of missed his best friend. He hadn't seen him in hours.

When Peter landed on his spot above Harry's windows – was it weird he'd visited the Oscorp Building so many times that he had his own spot now? – he promptly heard a guy talking loudly and angrily. Threateningly, even. Was his soulmate in danger?!

"How dare you, Harry?" the angry man yelled, "You think Energy can survive without me?"

"I think," Harry replied, calm and authoritative, "that we're trying to climb out of this shithole, and you're the anchor dragging us down. But don't worry, Jonas, you're still getting your year-end bonus."

Jonas the angry guy started yelling again. "It's not my fault the division's losing money!"

Harry was still composed, "I know you inherited a mess, but it's been two years. And things only got worse since I gave you this position. But you're right: it's not your fault. It's mine. I never should have hired you, and I compounded my mistake by not firing you sooner."

Oh dear god. Harry was firing Jonas. Oh, no… Peter felt so sorry for him. Getting fired was not only painful, but also humiliating.

"You'll regret this – I will tell Jim Plates everything!" Jonas was back to threatening again.

Okay, now Peter felt significantly less sorry for him. C'mon, you can't actually threaten your boss. That's just not nice. Begging and groveling was understandable, but outright threatening was taking it a step too far. Not to mention Jonas was threatening his one true love.

"Be my guest," Harry was unflappable, "By the time it reaches willing ears, your information will have become obsolete."

Jonas simply wouldn't give up. "You're a monster!" he finally shouted, "Your dad was a monster, too!"

Now that was too much. Didn't the asshole know that was a sensitive subject? Wait, actually…he really didn't. Still, what a jerk.

Harry still didn't react to any of it, "Eddie, kindly escort Jonas back to his desk and then out the building."

"Yes, sir," Eddie, probably a security guard, said solemnly.

And then all Peter could hear was Eddie manhandling Jonas out the office while Jonas threw more insults at Harry.

When the door was finally closed and everything was quiet again, Harry sighed tiredly. Peter quickly crawled into view. Sure enough, Harry, seated at his desk, was looking at him already. He always knew when Peter arrived.

"Hey, buddy," Peter inquired gently, "You okay?"

Harry heaved out another sigh, "It's almost Christmas, but it needed to be done."

Peter frowned in worry, "That comment about…"

"Me and my dad?" Harry finished for him easily, surprisingly not at all upset about it, "I feel sorry for Jonas, actually. He had nothing substantial to say and had to resort to name-calling."

Harry was taking all this really well. Peter admired how sure he was of himself and his dad, past homicidal tendencies notwithstanding.

To make Harry feel better, Peter decided to resort to name-calling as well. "That Jonas guy is such an asshole,"

Harry's lips quirked into a small smile, "That he is, buddy, that he is." Then he stood up and walked over to the windows, his demeanor friendly, "By the way, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

He wasn't even being sarcastic.

Oh, Peter was liking this. "Just wanted to see how you're doing,"

"Of course you did," Harry inclined his head in acknowledgement, no sarcasm, no snark. Peter could totally get behind this refreshing lack of hostility from Harry about his office visits.

And Harry looked nice smiling, his one good eye all bright and dark in perfect contrast.

"Hey, I just noticed," Peter observed, "You haven't worn your glasses in a while,"

"Nope," confirmed Harry as he returned to his desk, "And neither have you. Wonder why that is."

Peter felt a little stupid, "Serum. Right."

Harry looked at him curiously, "What brought this up?"

I was checking your eyes out. "Nothing!" Did that sound flustered? That sounded flustered. Crap.

Harry didn't push it. He just hmm'd and gave Peter a speculative look before turning his attention to his laptop and documents.

That was close. Phew. As Peter watched Harry work, he inevitably began observing his friend again.

Harry really was good-looking. And Peter was obviously biased, but no matter. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder, after all.

"Am I distracting you?" he mused aloud, because Harry could be working on something important, like a, like a contract.

Harry looked up at him, "Not really. I have accepted the reality that you just love hanging out on my windows."

It was said jokingly, so Peter joked back. "Well, this is top-notch glass,"

Harry indulgently smiled, shaking his head. "I gotta say, Peter, I'm starting to like these impromptu visits of yours."

It was a good thing they were separated by glass, or Peter would have jumped him.

Woo-O-Meter: 60

-:-

When Harry got home in the evening, Peter was, geez, reading the Wall Street Journal, because they really didn't have anything else. Charlie was happily watching a documentary of the insect world on National Geographic. He was especially enthusiastic about the part where a mantis dueled with a black widow spider and then ate it.

"You're doing this on purpose," Peter accused the crossbow.

Charlie just played his "cute" card and gave an innocent chirp.

"Grow up, guys," Harry shook his head at both human and crossbow before going upstairs.

When he came back down, he had changed into casual clothes and was holding something red and blue in his hand.

"Is that…" Peter squinted at the little object, "a miniature Spider-Man plushie?"

Harry handed the thing to him, "A miniature Spider-Man plushie fridge magnet. Someone was selling these near Oscorp Building's front entrance."

"Wow…" Peter studied the small plushie in awe, "Spidey actually looks cute. But why make it a fridge magnet?"

Harry shrugged. "So the mini-you can climb refrigerators like the real-you can climb buildings?"

"That's," Peter was impressed, as in really impressed, "smart. Very smart."

"Exactly why I bought one," said Harry as he patted Charlie on the head and went into the dining room.

Peter studied his mini-self in appreciation and brought it to the kitchen where Bernard was busy preparing dinner. With care, he put his mini-self against the refrigerator door. A soft clang, and the magnet stayed.

Peter stood back and admired the sight of his mini-self on the refrigerator. Just like how his real-self would climb a skyscraper. Whoever designed this truly was a genius.

Then it hit him: Harry had bought a souvenir of him.

Granted, Harry could've just bought it because he appreciated the cleverness, or he'd simply wanted to show Peter this well-designed merchandise of him. But still…when you bought a souvenir of something, you usually liked the real thing a whole lot, right?

Did that mean Harry love him, too? At least a little?

…Pining was hard.

Woo-O-Meter: 62

-:-

Harry excused himself right after dinner. Probably another phone call. What else was new. Peter wandered off while Bernard and Charlie cleaned up the dining room and kitchen. The mansion was big enough for a decent after-meal stroll, and Peter's thoughts strayed to his object of affection once again.

What was Harry doing right now? Was he tired? Did he think of Peter as much as Peter thought of him?

Peter huffed. This was getting ridiculous. He was disgusting even himself. He stopped to see where he'd wandered off to.

He was standing right in the middle of the hallway outside Harry's study.

Ugh. Great. Now even his feet were just as embarrassingly smitten.

Just as he was gonna go back the way he came, he couldn't help but notice Harry's study, judging from what he saw through the open door, was actually dark with no Harry Osborn inside.

Where did Harry go? It was obviously none of Peter's business, but he was going to make it his business anyway. Anything could have happened to Harry! He could've been kidnapped, or, or worse!

Within seconds, Peter managed to work himself into a panic.

He forced himself to calm down. This was Harry's home. The guy could be anywhere. He had no obligation to stay in his study all the time. Just to be safe, though, Peter decided to locate his friend.

As he walked further along the hallway, his ears picked up on the faint sound of an electric spark. It couldn't be Charlie; he was with Bernard in the kitchen. Then Peter heard three more sparks in quick succession. Huh. Sounded like someone was doing some tinkering with electronics.

Peter followed the sounds to a closed door. He mentally prepared himself as he swung the door open. It could be a burglar, a bomber, or –

Just Harry.

Peter sighed in relief at the sight of his friend working on something electronic on a workbench.

Harry looked up and raised an eyebrow at him. "Why do you look like you just escaped from a horror movie?"

"I thought you were a bomber getting your bomb ready to blow this place up."

Harry sighed. "Peter, I told you, that kind of stuff rarely happens in real life. And, if it makes you feel better, this place has its own security system, enhanced by yours truly," he proudly added.

Peter gulped. By Harry himself? "Does it…have auto-guns?"

"No," Harry said with a disgruntled frown, "They're unfortunately and unreasonably illegal."

"But you built those…you know, Goblin stuff, anyway. I bet they're even more illegal."

"The Osborn Mansion Security System has to be registered with the government, but those are secret technology."

Peter couldn't help but tease a little, "So you're a vigilante."

Harry sniffed, "I'm a guy pissed off with life in general." He turned back to the little electronic something he'd been working on, "So, you're here to make sure I'm not a mad bomber?"

"Yeah," Peter, now relaxed, studied the spacious workshop he was in with interest, "You weren't in your study, so I got worried. Then I heard someone doing electronic stuff,"

"And here you are," Harry finished for him, "I'm touched you care about me and the mansion's wellbeing so much, but next time? Just call my cellphone, or have faith in the Security System and take it easy. It's winter break, remember?"

It was indeed. But still…it wasn't like Peter could just stop worrying about the person he loved. Right. He probably should woo Harry now, too.

"But I can't help wanting to make sure you're okay," he said in what he hoped was a casually dashing way.

Harry chuckled as if he was supremely amused. Definitely not the reaction Peter was hoping for. "I almost killed you, didn't I? I would worry about the lousy loser that dares enter my territory uninvited if I were you, buddy."

Okaaay, now Harry was feeling good about himself. SO definitely not the reaction Peter was hoping for. Nothing wrong with Harry appreciating how badass he was, but could he, maybe, perhaps, appreciate Peter, too? Why was wooing Harry so hard? Mary Jane was like an angel in comparison. Well, she actually was an angel, so there was that. He wouldn't want Harry to be more like M.J. – he loved him just the way he was, warts and all – but he really wished Harry could be more helpful, more cooperative in his wooing endeavor.

Frustrated, Peter took another look around the workshop to distract himself, "So this is your workshop, huh?" It was big, full of tools and electronic parts, yet neat and tidy. Except for the tools and parts currently being used on the workbench, everything else was methodically arranged. Peter couldn't help a fond smile. So Harry.

Harry grunted in confirmation, "Where Charlie was born,"

Peter was honestly impressed. And honestly amused to see more than a few objects bearing Oscorp's logo. Oscorp pencil, Oscorp pen, Oscorp eraser, Oscorp ruler, Oscorp notebook, Oscorp calendar, Oscorp planner! He bet there were even more in Harry's study, maybe even Oscorp water bottles! The Buglesometimes handed out excess company swags like these to employees, too, but nobody had taken them more seriously and with more pride than Harry did with the Oscorp ones. Commitment. Once again Peter found himself desperately wishing he could kiss his best friend.

He spotted an Oscorp mug nearby. It was dark blue and had "BOSS" printed on it in big white letters.

"Nice mug," he commented pleasantly.

"Present from Joe last Christmas." Harry didn't even look up, attention completely on the small gizmo where he was now doing the wiring.

It was remarkable, really, to watch Harry build something in person. Peter was a genius, but Harry wasn't too bad himself.

"What are you building?" he asked curiously.

"That," Harry actually looked up with a smug smile, "Is for me to know, and for you to find out."

Peter played along cheerfully, his interest piqued, "Secretive, are we?"

"Precisely." He kept his smile, but then turned solemn, "Now get out of here." He promptly shooed Peter out of the workshop. How rude.

When Harry finally deigned to leave the workshop and find Peter, Peter was listening to the police radio in the guest room. It was, once again, a quiet night. Peter was tempted to call it a Silent Night, but that would just be too cheesy even for him.

Peter looked up when Harry sat down next to him on the guest room bed.

"Done with the super-secret project?" Peter joked good-naturedly.

Instead of answering, Harry smugly produced a small sophisticated device before Peter. Peter carefully inspected the little gizmo in Harry's hand. Well, it looked distinctly like…

"An earpiece?" Peter ventured.

"You're welcome," said Harry, still excessively smug about the whole thing, "Now you can check your police radio whenever you want – on patrol, in class, whatever."

Peter grinned, "And I can call you even when I'm out there swinging, even during a fight!"

Harry shrugged, "Sure, if you want. Now take it already."

I love you. Peter thought as he looked into Harry's dark eyes and gratefully took the nifty earpiece from his palm.

"Thank you, Harry," Peter said earnestly, turning the device in his hands, "You didn't have to."

"I did, actually," Harry shrugged noncommittally, but Peter knew he was really trying to pretend he wasn't embarrassed, "Reckless morons like you need all the help you can get."

It'd always been Harry's habit to cover embarrassment with unnecessary snark. Peter smiled, heart warm and fond, and responded cheekily, "Aww, I love you, too."

Harry promptly gave him the finger.

Woo-O-Meter: 70

-:-

To be continued…

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