Harry was three years old when their parents finally realized he and Peter were soulmates. His mother had been watching over them as his father and Peter’s parents discussed work.
They were drawing. Peter had grabbed a pencil and was scribbling on the page when he twisted to tell Harry something and accidentally stabbed himself. The large sounds of cries filled the room. Harry couldn't remember this, but his mother told him that he had walked over to Peter, held his hand, and told him not to cry.
His mother grabbed a first aid kit, but the moment she pulled the pencil out from where it was stuck in Peter’s palm, the wound began to close up by itself. She barely got the chance to apply an antiseptic to get any lead out before the wound was gone, no scar in sight. She looked at the two of them with a growing smile on her face. Apparently, she had rushed to tell all of the adults the moment she realized, and since then, the two of them had been absolutely inseparable.
They were four years old, out enjoying a bright summer day in the playground. Peter had been daring Harry to see how high he could jump off of the swing. Harry was never one to back down from a dare, not even at age four, and next thing he knew, he had crash-landed, mulch littering his skin and sticking out of his legs in places.
Emily and Mary had come rushing over, but Peter just held out a hand to stop them as he grabbed hold of Harry’s hand. Harry watched in wonder as his cuts and scrapes and bruises slowly faded away. "I'm sorry Harry."
"It's ok. My cuts never go away that fast when you're not here." Harry, who had been on the verge of tears only a few seconds ago, now responded with curiosity.
"It's the same for me!" Peter looked at him excitedly.
Emily and Mary smiled in the background as their kids learned what it meant to be soulmates.
Knowing their soulmates at such an early age was definitely a good thing. All of the parents were more than relieved at the fast healing cuts and the disappearing stomach aches. It was only a shame that it didn’t work just as well with emotional pain.
Emily Osborn died in March, a month after Harry turned five. Richard and Mary Parker followed three months afterward. Peter found himself an orphan and Harry found himself with a new side of his father that he had never seen before. Or rather, a father he never saw.
Ben and May were happy to take Peter in. Harry was an inevitable addition. Soon enough Ben found himself picking them both up from school. May found herself making dinner for four. And slowly, they became a family. Even if, at the end of the day, Harry had to go home.
Harry and Peter were both in their second grade when the teachers told them about soulmates and how being near them healed your wounds, eased your aches. They exchanged a look from their assigned desks across the room from each other.
When Uncle Ben came to pick them both up, Harry asked him with all the bluntness of a seven-year-old, "Are me and Peter soulmates?"
Peter perked up at the mention of his name. "Ms. Strauss was talking about soulmates today and she mentioned how they heal each other's injuries and my cuts always go away when Harry shows up."
Both boys looked up at Ben expectantly, their eyes wide and patiently waiting. Ben smiled at them. "I should have expected. Yes, both of you are soulmates."
"But what exactly are soulmates?" Harry continued to ask.
"They're the single most important person in your life. The one person who you love and who loves you more than anyone else. They're like half of your own soul."
"Are you and Aunt May soulmates?" Peter asked him while swinging his hand, pulling Ben's along with him.
Ben nodded. "Yup. And so were your parents."
Harry frowned. "What about mine?"
Ben's smile grew more somber. "They were too."
"Is that why Daddy is grumpy all the time now? Because he doesn't have his soulmate? I would be sad too if I couldn't see Peter anymore." Harry looked up at Ben.
The older man didn't meet his eyes when he said yes.
The walk was silent for a bit, but then Peter asked, "Do all soulmates get married?"
Ben laughed. "Most of them do. Sometimes they can't, but they always love each other."
"Does that mean all soulmates kiss? Because you and Aunt May do that a lot." Peter stuck his tongue out and his face was twisted up in disgust.
"Again, most of them do." Harry grimaced. Kissing was gross. "But you and Harry don't need to think about that for a long long time ok?"
"We're never gonna kiss," Peter said in a clear voice and Harry frantically nodded his head in agreement.
Ben gave them a look that was almost like he was humoring them. "If you say so. That's your choice."
The conversation drifted from there into 'what's for dinner?' And the topic was forgotten.
They grew up. That was one thing they couldn’t stop. Their ages changed from 7 to 9 to 11. The injuries followed them, because what child wouldn’t get burns and bruises from just being themselves? But then they hit middle school and Peter started getting bullied and there was only so much Harry could protect him from. No matter how famous his name was, he couldn’t keep Peter safe from the cruelty of newly teenaged kids, and all he could do was sit by him when it was done, holding his hand, watching the injuries fade away.
Peter and Harry had been pushed into the same gym class. The reason cited was that Peter couldn’t run without Harry nearby to stop his asthma from overreacting. Peter would take the extra running if it meant he had his best friend by his side.
Harry was thirteen when they went on a field trip to his own company. The one his father literally owned. He and Peter had slipped away from the group as soon as possible, choosing to explore instead. Next thing he knew his best friend and soulmate got bitten by a radioactive spider.
Luckily the field trip was on a Friday, and after immediately rushing him home and staying by his side all weekend (because Norman didn't need a reason beyond sleepover), Peter was well enough to go to school again on Monday.
Peter had tried to keep his newfound powers a secret from Harry for all of one week before the strawberry blond found out. It really was stupid how he came to know. Peter had been hanging upside down on the bunk bed in his room (the top bunk was always saved for Harry) and was trying to flip himself onto the ceiling when Harry came in.
They hadn’t argued, not really, but Harry gave Peter disappointed looks every time they were together (aka at least 10 hours a day) for the following week.
Then Ben died.
The funeral was small. Just May, Peter, Harry, and a few of the police officers Ben worked with. When the others came to offer their condolences to the family, Harry was a part of it. He was grieving for a father just as much as Peter, and no one tried to tell him differently.
It took a while, but they got better. There were days when one of them (or both of them) broke down crying for their loss, for the way the world broke apart their family. But in the end, they had each other, they always did, and they always would.
He stopped spending as much time at home, only showing up when Norman (not father, not anymore) specifically called for him, something that only happened once a month at most. He had practically moved into the Parker residence, slipping his frankly enormous allowances in between May’s paychecks from the hospital. May had protested of course, but it wasn’t too hard to convince her that he was just paying back what they were forced to spend for him and that this wasn’t nearly enough to pay back what they had given him: safety and a family.
May had cried that day, pulling a thirteen-year-old Harry into a deep hug as they fell to the kitchen floor. Peter had been out, one of the rare times he and Harry weren’t attached at the hip. Neither May nor Harry ever told him about the incident.
When Peter got the spider bite, they noticed he got a bit of a healing factor. He basically always healed as fast as he did when Harry was nearby. Harry’s first thought was relief that Peter would be safe. His second thought was panic that Peter wouldn’t care as much about him anymore. He knew, logically, Peter didn’t care about that type of thing. That he mattered more to the boy than just being someone who could stop the pain. That they wouldn’t have let him into their home and their family if he didn’t mean more than that. But he still worried.
Harry had been there, on the phone with Peter the first time he went out in the suit. He was there every time after too, as villain after villain came by. It made him feel helpless, sitting at home, unable to do more than sit and wait (because the Parker residence was home, always had been) while his soulmate fought off these terrible people and kept saving the city, time and time again.
The first time Peter came home with a stab wound, Harry panicked and ran over to him the moment he swung through the window of their shared room. He knew his presence probably wouldn’t do anything, but after years of running to Peter whenever either of them got injured, it was hard to break habits.
Harry watched in wonder as the wound began to close up the moment Peter came into the room. Peter’s eyes grew wide as he watched his stab wound slowly knit together. “It definitely was not healing that fast while I was swinging over.”
Now, Harry wouldn’t say it was instantaneous. Considering how large the wound was, and how fast it looked like it was healing, he would estimate a few hours before it cleared up. But that was still huge, considering the wound should have taken weeks to get better. It probably would have taken a few days before the bite, which meant a few days if Harry wasn’t around.
“Do you think it’s the...” He gestured between them, not mentioning the soulmate connection in words, knowing Peter would understand.
“Maybe. I didn’t think that would still work with my super healing.” Peter shrugged, before wincing at the sudden motion.
Harry grabbed hold of Peter’s hand, dragging him onto the bottom bunk. “Well, looks like it still does.” He didn’t show it on his face, but he couldn’t help but be a little happy that he could still help in some way. It meant he still had a purpose. It meant Peter wouldn’t decide he wasn’t worth it anymore. It meant he wouldn’t lose the only family he could remember.
From then on, he was always made sure to be waiting at home when Peter came back battered and bruised, holding his soulmate’s hands as the wounds on his skin disappeared. The useless feeling always seemed to dissipate a little as he watched Peter’s injuries fade. Maybe he couldn’t help out there, in the fights, but he could always be here, ready to make sure Peter stayed safe. That would have to be enough for now.
May had come home to the two of them asleep on the couch with a movie playing in the background far too many times. Every single time she just laid a blanket over them and turned off the movie, a fond smile on her face.
The light was still on in their room, and it would be clear to anyone who saw it that they were close. The living spaces had combined and morphed into one another, being equal parts comic books and chemistry textbooks and paint sets. The room was covered in posters of artwork and famous scientists and it looked more lived-in than should be physically possible. It felt like a combination of the two of them, so inexplicably intertwined, and all May could do was sit and think about how much she loved her boys.
Flash had a girlfriend. They were now in their sophomore year of high school, more than old enough for dating apparently, as seen by the couple kissing right in front of Harry and Peter.
It wasn’t uncommon for people to date or mess around with people who weren't their soulmate. But that was only before you found the one person who was meant for you.
Harry already knew who that was, and he was holding his hand at that very moment.
The last time either of them had mentioned romance was that day way back in 2nd grade. The idea of dating Peter seemed no less gross to him. He had assumed he would figure it out when they got older and had pushed it out of his mind. Apparently that distant later was starting to get too close.
Peter didn't mention it, but Harry caught the other boy looking at him at times, and he just knew this was what he was thinking about. He would wait until Peter asked him. Avoidance was the best strategy after all.
Harry didn’t legally live with the Parkers. Norman was still his legal guardian, and every so often Harry would be summoned to attend a meeting or show up at a gala. He did as he was told because being the perfect son meant Norman didn’t realize that he didn’t even sleep in the penthouse anymore. That he only showed up when Norman asked. He was only there when his presence was demanded, something Norman approved of.
It didn’t stop him from wishing Peter was there with him in every meeting and every empty ballroom. Peter had always been his entire support system, his rock, and nothing was better at unsettling him than Norman Osborn. He felt like a boat lost at sea, with Peter for an anchor and a father for the tides.
Still, it was a relief to know that at the end of the day, Norman wouldn’t notice as he slipped away and went back home .
It was June, and the GSA was handing out pins. Harry found the pins enchanting, the number of different colors, the different categories. Everyone seemed to know who and what they were. They were proud.
The pit in Harry’s stomach grew. He knew Peter was his soulmate, so the rainbow-colored one was his, right? It didn't feel right. He ignored the box.
Behind him, he saw Peter grab a pink, purple, and blue pin, before quickly snatching another one and hiding it in his pocket. Harry pretended not to see.
When they got home, Harry searched up the colors. Peter grabbed the bisexual pin. Harry felt guilt tear at him.
When Peter was on patrol, Harry had taken to looking at websites and links about romance, about what love felt like. Peter had never hidden who he was Harry, never felt like he had to, so Harry knew enough about the different labels that Peter threw around every day.
He knew this. He loved Peter. But he didn't love Peter. Not in the way that people on TV did. He didn't want to kiss Peter but he did treasure spending all of his time with Peter. Even when they were apart, Peter was never far from his mind, but it didn't feel like what being in love was supposed.
He didn't want to date Peter. That felt weird. The word boyfriend didn't fit right in his mouth. They had grown up together. He couldn’t remember a time Peter wasn’t by his side. They were brothers, but also not. They never referred to each other as siblings because that was also weird.
It wasn’t just Peter either. It was like- what was dating besides being best friends and also kissing? He didn't really want to do the whole making out thing, it looked gross. Being them, being what they were right now was more than enough for him. Peter was his Peter . There was no other way to describe that. They cuddled next to each other while watching movies and shared drinks and food and had no secrets and were so unbelievably codependent. But they weren’t dating.
When Peter came home that day, Harry plastered on a fake smile, all the while hoping they never had to change, knowing someday it all would.
The villains got bigger and badder. Harry wanted to stop Peter, wanted to yell at him to relax, to stop running headfirst into fights, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even bring himself to say the words because he knew Peter, knew him more than he knew himself, and he knew Peter would never back down. They both carried guilt for Ben’s death and this was the only way Peter knew how to let it out. Harry couldn’t take that away from him.
So he stayed at home, waiting for Peter to come back, hoped he wasn’t injured, but ready in case he was. It went from muggings to robberies to assault to supervillains who threatened the city. As the cases got bigger, the likelihood of injury did too. The first time Peter came home with a gunshot wound, Harry almost lost it. His hands were stained with Peter’s blood, covering over the paint stains from earlier. He could barely hear Peter talking over his own heavy breathing as he pressed his hands to the wound, wishing he could do more, that he could help it heal even faster. What was the purpose of having a soulmate bond if having him there still left Peter in pain?
It only took Peter a day to heal. Harry would argue it was a day too much. That night, after Peter fell asleep, he climbed up onto the roof of the apartment building, staring up at the Avengers Tower and at the sky, asking, begging the world to explain to him why they decided Peter needed to be the one to stop this. Asking why a sixteen-year-old boy had to fight these battles. He almost screamed, before letting his anguish get trapped in his throat instead, a silent request to give Peter some peace while the boy in question slept.
That night he made himself a promise. Whatever Peter needed from him, whatever he asked for, Harry would give him. He would do anything to make sure he stayed. Anything to make sure Peter stayed safe, because one day Peter could get so badly hurt that he wouldn’t make it without Harry. Harry would never forgive himself if he let Peter slip away, let himself be the reason Peter died because he was too damn far away.
They were already inseparable, but if someone watched closely, they would notice that Harry stayed a little closer, shielded Peter a little more. May’s heart broke as she watched the sad looks they gave each other when they thought no one was watching. For two boys who had always had each other, they seemed so intent on pushing each other away. She couldn’t help but wonder how it was possible to know another’s soul so deeply but still think they needed to hide.
One day, when Peter was opening his backpack, a tiny pin fell out. He had snatched it up quickly, but that didn’t mean he was fast enough to stop Harry from seeing it. The dark black, grey, white, and purple pin looked suspiciously like the ones he had seen in the GSA box, and he realized what Peter had slipped into his pocket that day.
It didn’t take long for Harry to look up the flag. He recognized the pattern, but his memory was terrible and he could never remember which of the multicolored flags was what. Seeing the word ASEXUAL in large letters on his phone gave him this undeniable sense of relief. He would offer Peter the world, but knowing the other boy wouldn’t ask this of him (never a demand, Peter was far too kind for that) made him feel light in a way he hadn’t really felt since that day he started searching up what love felt like on his phone.
He never really stopped looking into what he was. He had actually tried on the asexual label for a while, but it didn’t seem like enough for him. It didn’t fit completely right, instead like a suit three sizes too big that Harry could never hope to grow into. It didn’t fit the way Peter’s hand fit in his, the way he fit into the Parker household, smushed between May and Peter at the small kitchen counter, eating pancakes. It was missing something, like how his paint set was missing red (he threw it away because the red paint stains reminded him too much of Peter’s blood on his hands and his chest always felt too tight to breathe).
Then he had found little aromantic flags somewhere deep inside the 5th Wikipedia page he had opened that day, and something just clicked. It felt like him, it felt right. But even after finding the label for him, the words that described what he felt, the victory felt empty. Because right next to the aromantic flag he had scribbled on the corner of his math notes was the biromantic flag that Peter had claimed as his own. Peter wanted love. How could he provide that?
More importantly, how could he tell Peter that his asexuality didn’t matter when he couldn’t even tell him that he was aromantic?
Harry was nothing if not a master procrastinator, so of course, he pushed the conversation as far away as he could, saying he would talk to Peter later. This could all happen later .
He should never be allowed to push things off again. Because now, he was sitting there in their bedroom, watching as Peter fought the Green Goblin on TV. The very Green Goblin who had been unmasked on live television only five minutes earlier to reveal his father .
He had to sit and watch as a bomb exploded five feet away from Peter, watch as his biological father hurt his soulmate . He had to stay at home, instead of helping, instead of doing something.
He felt nothing but relief as the police carted his father away. He felt nothing but worry as Peter came swinging through the window, the same as always, except this time, covered in burns and cuts, almost fainting the moment he touched the ground.
That night Harry fell asleep pressed against Peter, both of them sharing his small bottom bunk. Harry would have wrapped his arms around Peter, reveling in the physical contact, but he refrained, making sure not to touch Peter’s wounds. Both of them were fully clothed, of course, Harry didn’t think he would have done it otherwise (he absolutely would have. He would have done anything if it meant Peter got better faster).
The next morning was awkward, to say the least. May had come barging in, only to see both of them. Harry, the early waker and the light sleeper of the two, slowly opened his eyes to see May wink at him.
The next few days were a legal mess, but at the end of it all, May Parker ended up as Harry’s legal guardian. Harry had been put through a whirlwind of meetings as Norman’s trial went through and he got sentenced to life in jail. Harry had already spent so little time at the penthouse that nothing much had changed, and if it wasn’t for all of the legal work, Harry wasn’t sure he would have noticed a change at all. It was weird, thinking about Norman being in jail, he almost felt like he should be sad, but he wasn’t. Instead, it was just guilt about not noticing earlier, about not being there for Peter, about being such a terrible son that he didn’t even feel anything knowing his father would never be a free man again.
Harry wasn’t the only one feeling guilty. Peter was there, feeling the guilt that he had put Harry’s father in jail (not his father anymore, Harry always said in response). It took far too many late-night conversations and admissions from Harry for Peter to finally realize that Harry wasn’t upset with Peter for catching the Green Goblin. That he didn’t care, as long as Peter was safe.
That was another change. Harry had started spending the nights pressed up next to Peter in the name of healing his burns. They should have taken months to heal. They took three days. In those three days, they had finally said goodbye to the bunk bed, getting a bigger loft bed instead, one that could fit both of them more comfortably. It didn’t matter to Harry, who still stayed close, worried that if he moved any further away, Peter would disappear in another battle, get another wound, never recover.
It was a week before everything had finally settled back to normal. It was exactly one week when Peter came up to Harry and said, “We need to talk.”
Harry felt dread building up inside his bones. This was it, he was done, Peter was going to tell him he wanted more, he was going to tell him to leave.
Peter pulled him up onto the loft bed, sitting in front of Harry, both of their legs hanging off the edge. His hands here fidgeting in his lap and Harry could feel his panic grow. “I- I didn’t want to tell you. I was- I- I was worried that you wouldn’t want me if I told you. That you would complain that the world left you with someone as broken as me. But I- I- almost died the other day, and the only reason I made it was because of you.” Harry opened his mouth to protest, say that he would have healed anyway, just slower, and no, don’t say that , but Peter held up a hand and kept going. “You give me so much hope, you are my only motivation, the only reason I keep fighting when it gets hard. I almost let myself fall that day, I almost gave up in the middle of that fight, but I didn’t because of you, so don’t say you didn’t save me. Harry, you have been saving me since the day we met.” His voice had grown louder as he continued, his conviction clear in only one thing, saying how much Harry meant to him. Then his voice dropped again. “Which is why you deserve to know.”
“Know what?” Harry had a feeling he knew where this was going.
“That I’m asexual.” Peter let out a deep breath as he made the admission, a shudder passing through his body. “That I am sex-repulsed and never want to do that sort of thing and honestly even though I’m attracted to boys, I’m not really attracted to you and that’s not because I don’t think you’re attractive, because you are, it’s just that I’ve grown up with you and you’re my best friend and my everything and I don’t think I could have been given a better soulmate but you’re still just you and calling you my boyfriend in my head doesn’t sound the same as calling you my soulmate does and I didn’t want to make things awkward but it just doesn’t feel right.” He ended his ramble panting, his eyes wide as he looked up at Harry with anticipation.
With every word Peter said, Harry had felt more and more hopeful, and by the end of it, he had built up some sort of confidence, the ability to finally say the words he had been hiding inside his chest, keeping locked up like his body was a jail cell that he couldn’t quite get out of. Because finally, he knew that Peter didn’t expect anything from him, and how would he? Peter never expected anything from him that he couldn’t give. He had spent all of this time wondering if the universe had fucked up, had done Peter a disservice by giving him a soulmate who couldn’t love him back, not the way he needed. But of course, the universe worked exactly the way it was supposed to, putting these two boys who didn’t look for love with each other, making sure Harry had someone who would understand his lack of romantic attraction, made him someone who would understand Peter’s reluctance and hesitance, made both of them to perfectly complement each other, not only in their mix of science and art, clumsiness and poise, but also in this, in the way neither of them wanted more , the way they both only wanted this, just harryandpeter, peterandharry , not boyfriends, but more than best friends, just soulmates, just them.
“I’m aromantic. I don’t feel romantic attraction. So you never had anything to worry about from me. I would never ask that of you.” The admission leaves Harry feeling light, like the space in his chest finally emptied out, like he didn’t have a million tons weighing him down anymore.
Peter’s jaw dropped wide open. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was afraid. I was afraid that you would want more. I didn’t want to leave you, because you, Peter Parker, are the most important person in my life, and nothing could ever make me leave your side, not unless you asked.”
Peter looked at him for a few seconds, staring straight into his eyes. Harry didn’t flinch. Then suddenly, Peter let out a light chuckle, one that felt wet from the tears that threatened to spill out of the brunet’s eyes. “We’re a pair aren’t we?”
“The universe made us for each other. We were just too stupid to realize that this was exactly how it was supposed to work out.” Harry smiled, feeling free for the first time in so long. He hadn’t realized how much it had hurt to keep this a secret from Peter. Peter was the rambler of the two, the one who told Harry every little detail about his day, recounting every minute they spent away from each other, but that didn’t mean Harry didn’t bare his soul just the same, didn’t have every single one of his secrets and his deepest thoughts constantly spilling out of his lips like the water Peter needed to live.
At some point, Peter had pulled Harry into a hug and the two of them sat there, their feet curled up on the bed, falling into each other's arms.
It took another week before Peter came rushing up to him during lunch in school, an excited smile on his face as he exclaimed, “I figured out what we are!” Harry could barely process what Peter had said before the brunet grabbed his hand and pulled him into the empty hallway. “I was talking to a girl in my English class, you remember Verona, and she was telling me about this thing called Queer Platonic Partnerships, and the way she was explaining it, I think that’s us.” Peter was giddy as he spoke, and his enthusiasm was infectious.
Harry’s smile slowly grew wider as Peter relayed all of the information that Verona had told him. “So you’re saying… there’s a name for what we have? It’s an actual thing? We’re not weird, or freaks or…?”
Peter’s head almost looked like it was jiggling as he nodded eagerly, his face lit up like a million watt light bulb. Harry felt the final piece of the puzzle slot into place. This was exactly where they were supposed to be.
The new label didn’t mean anything had really changed. They just had a name for it. They were still just them . They still walked through the halls, sharing the same pair of headphones because their taste in music had warped into some monstrosity that included both of their favorites. They still sat, one person’s legs resting on top of the other’s. Harry still doodled all over Peter’s hands when they sat next to each other in class. Harry still picked up Peter’s phone when the other boy forgot it in the class he had right before Harry. Peter still wrote little notes into Harry’s agenda. They still hugged and held each other and completely disregarded personal space. They still went to decathlon meetings together and watched the night sky together and made dinner for May on mother’s day. They were still them. Just more.
It really shouldn’t have been a surprise that they both decided to go to Columbia. After all, they were both geniuses, albeit in their own ways. And where one of them went, the other followed. Neither of them were particularly interested in leaving the city, and so Columbia really seemed like the only option.
They had gotten themselves an apartment closer to campus (Peter had finally warmed up to the idea of letting Harry use the money he had available, even if he still panicked a bit at frivolous spending). Besides the change in location, nothing really changed. They were still just blatantly them. Peter still went out as Spider-Man, they still went to classes (even if they didn’t have nearly as many in common, what with Peter majoring in Biochemistry and Harry in Art and Art History), it was just a little more freedom now. They had dinner with Aunt May every Saturday instead of every day. They spent their free time in a coffee shop sometimes. But for the most part, they were still them. And that was perfectly fine with both of them.
Harry never had any plans of running Oscorp. Technically, he was still the owner, but there was a new CEO and he really didn’t have much to do with the company anymore. All he did was sign a few occasional forms or show up to a few social meetings. The rest of the time, he spent in their new apartment. They had gotten a bigger one after college, taking advantage of the fact that it no longer needed to be near the campus. It had an entire room just for Harry to make art and another one which was Peter’s office/Spider-Man room.
Harry had spoken to the CEO, convinced him that Peter would be a great addition to Oscorp’s research and development department (not that he took much convincing after seeing Peter’s resume). They both settled into their places in the world with relative ease and sometimes Harry couldn’t believe that they had gotten here.
Of course, Peter could always recognize those moods, quickly wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist and pulling the strawberry blond into a deep hug, letting the worries and tensions ease out. They were going to be ok.
It was five years later when the head of R&D at Oscorp retired and Peter took his place. Harry had his artwork on display in the MoMA. They were pretty public figures in their own right. And with the publicity came the constant questions about if they were dating. The constant decline and lack of acknowledgment was something that grated at the media’s nerves, but Harry and Peter always made their way home afterward to laugh at news headlines claiming they were anything more than just them . It had always just been harryandpeter, peterandharry , and the idea of them being anything else was frankly hilarious, and laughing at the insane claims was the best way to calm down after the flashing cameras that put both Peter and Harry on edge.
Peter was still Spider-Man, still the best hero the city had seen. He was more than that now too, he was a symbol, a protector, everything he had hoped to be at thirteen. But with the fame came the bigger villains, came the ones hoping to test themselves against Peter.
Still, at the end of it all, Harry was always waiting at home, ready to ease Peter’s injuries, ready to hold his hand as they put a movie on, ready for anything, as long as they both had each other. They always would.