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the-precious-peter-parker · 2 years

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Future Drabble

So I wrote this back in November of 2020 and then forgot about it until now. I am pretty sure it was for Parkner week but this is the only prompt that I completed. With a bit of editing I now bring you this little story based on the prompts: “2029, that’s not a real year” / time travel / future au

Peter takes a moment to survey the scene from where he’s perched atop one of the many trees within Central Park. The sturdy branch that he stands on is far different than the usual skyscrapers that he perches on but today’s mission is a far cry from his usual patrols around the city.

It’s true that the world had adopted a new normal after the events of the blip. Peter’s definition of normal had changed more drastically than most after being brought back only to have to fight to save the earth in a massive battle and then nearly losing Mr. Stark in the snap. But the battle was won, earth was saved, Mr. Stark recovered, Peter settled fully into his role as Morgan’s older brother and partner in crime, and Peter became close with the one and only Harley Keener. The world adjusted to its new normal and Peter found himself adjusting with it.

However, the scene unfolding before him in central park was so bizarre that neither the world’s new definition of normal nor Peter’s new definition for it could make it seem any less strange. An alien ship that somewhat resembles a snowflake if it had been painted in a grotesque shade of mustard yellow and accented in a muddy green color is hovering just above Central Park. The ship itself isn’t the largest that Peter has ever seen and neither are the aliens that are pouring out of it. In fact, Peter is fairly certain that the creatures would only come up to about his hip if he took a moment to stand beside one. The idea of standing beside one to properly gauge its height is completely lost on Peter when the ship lets out a loud creaking sound before releasing a fuchsia beam of light.

Peter’s spider senses flair and he dodges away from the beam fast enough that it misses him. He turns his head to follow the path of the beam but he can’t see any noticeable damage. He opens his mouth to ask Karen to patch him through to the Avenger’s coms so he could update them before they arrive on scene in a quintet but he is cut off as his senses flare loudly in the back of his mind once again. He attempts to lunge out of the way again but it seems that the aliens have taken note of Peter’s quick reflexes and broadened the width of the ray they are targeting him with.

Peter finds himself encapsulated in a blinding fuchsia light. He tries his best to call out to the Avenger’s to let them know that he has been hit and is in need of backup but he feels as though the air has been ripped from his lungs. He remains aware long enough to feel the startling sensation of being weightless for just a moment and then beginning to fall rapidly before unconsciousness finally pulls him under.

Waking up on the floor of the lab is not an unfamiliar feeling for Peter but the half finished projects around him are so technologically advanced that Peter has to wonder who on earth has been working in the lab. He groans softly and slowly sits up so that he is now sitting cross legged on the floor just beside his usual work bench. He looks around blearily to try and figure out how he’d ended up in the lab. The last thing he remembers was being hit by the fuchsia ray from the alien’s ship and now he’s sitting on the floor of the lab.

“Uh, hey Friday?” Peter calls out into the empty lab, hoping that the AI could shed some light on whatever situation he’d managed to get himself into. His eyes sweep curiously around the lab as he takes in the sight before him. On top of his work bench is what looks to be a half finished spider suit but it’s a design that Peter can only recall barely beginning to plan the logistics of let alone actually building the suit. He steps closer to the table and begins to inspect the composition of the suit and is relieved to find that it is not much different than the suit that he is currently wearing.

Before he can further examine the suit, a familiar voice sounds from the ceiling, “Peter, would you like me to alert Mr. Stark of your presence?” The AI asks and Peter cannot help but notice that there seems to be the slightest hint of confusion in Friday’s tone, well as much confusion as a AI’s voice can hold. Peter contemplates the question for just a moment and decides that he doesn’t want to worry Mr. Stark if not necessary and would rather question his boyfriend about what is going on.

“No thanks Fri, but could you maybe ask Harley to come down here? I’ve got some questions for him.” Peter replies and makes his way over to sit on the comfy couch in the lab. He pauses in his steps when he finds that the couch in the lab is not the slightly oil stained tan couch that he was expecting but instead is a very cozy looking grey couch that has a very soft looking maroon blanket strewn over the back of it.

“Hey Friday, how long has this couch been here?” Peter asks in confusion, he tries to ignore the dread that is beginning to pool in his stomach as his mind begins to piece together the clues that his surroundings are giving him.

“That particular couch has been in the lab for four months. The prior one had to be replaced after an accident involving Harley and Morgan adding a bit of food coloring to your web fluid as a prank but the compounds did not react well to each other and created a slightly acidic explosion of web fluid.” Friday explains and Peter’s mind races as he takes in the new information. He definitely would not have forgotten something as memorable as an explosion of colorful web fluid capable of dissolving parts of his favorite napping couch. He is also aware that he would have noticed if he’d been taking naps on a new couch for the past four months and yet Peter can’t think of a single memory of ever seeing this grey couch before. He nods slowly and takes a seat on the plush grey couch before addressing Friday again.

“Fri could you tell me what the date is?” He asks quietly and sucks in a shaky breath of anticipation. Peter’s heart is beating rapidly in his chest and he thinks that someone without super hearing like him would be able to hear it. The response he receives silences his thundering pulse for just a moment as an icy wave of anxiety washes over Peter. Panic takes hold in Peter’s chest as the teen attempts to process Friday’s reply.

“Today is August 1st, 2029.” Friday replies in a gentle tone as if she is expecting the answer to startle Peter. Peter such in a sharp breath and curses quietly under his breath. He shakes his head and pulls his knees up against his chest, curling himself into a small ball as he tries to fully comprehend what has happened. His hands grip the fabric covering his shins just a bit too tightly but Peter is more focussed on the way that the familiar walls of the lab around him seem to be closing in and making it harder and harder to breathe.

“That can’t be right. 2029, that’s not a real year…” Peter breaks off with hysteric burst of laughter. “I’ve been through a lot of crazy stuff recently but time travel can’t be one of them. Aunt May is gonna kill me…” Peter groans as he finally releases his hold on his suit to run his hands through his hair only to find that he has yet to remove his mask in the chaos of waking up in what apparently is the future. He pulls the mask over his head and balls it up in his fist. He mentally curses his Parker luck as he thinks about how the hell he managed to get thrown into the future by some alien time travel gun. His downward spiral is interrupted but the sound of the lab door sliding open and part of him hopes that his Harley will walk through the door, grinning about the hilarious joke that Friday just pulled on him.

All hopes of the situation being a joke are shattered as the door opens fully, making room for a muscular figure to step through. Peter’s mouth falls open in shock as he undoubtedly recognizes the man as none other than Harley Keener. A much more muscular, older, and taller Harley Keener. He looks over the man and notes the slight beard that Harley is sporting and the way that his hair is cut into a shorter and more mature style than he’s ever seen his boyfriend wear.

Harley pauses in his tracks as well and simply stares at Peter for a moment before letting out a surprised chuckle. He runs a hand through his hair, in similar way to the Harley that Peter is used to does when he is unsure of what is happening, Peter sits up a bit straighter and lets his knees down so that he is no longer curled into a ball. His spider sense aren’t going off so he knows that this not some kind of trick and he is not in any danger but the whole situation still has him on edge.

“Wow, okay… I thought Friday was kidding when she said you were here. Like really Pete, this is crazy even for you.” Harley teases gently and Peter is taken aback for just a moment. Harley’s voice is familiar but so different. It’s deeper and has lost most of the southern drawl that Peter loves so much. Harley seems to notice the way that all the subtle changes are putting Peter on edge and smiles gently at the enhanced teen before him.

“Hey, this ain’t a big deal. We kept the time travel tech around just in case any of us got into a situation like this so we can have you back home to your time in well, no time at all.” Older Harley reassures Peter. Peter finds himself nodding dumbly and taking another deep breath to try and collect himself.

“Sorry, it’s all just so different here but at the same time like not different at all.” Peter murmurs as he looks around the lab again before returning his gaze to Harley who is simply smiling at Peter as if he’s finding Peter’s reaction to be absolutely adorable.

“Yeah well, the lab hasn’t really changed much other than upgrades to tech but I don’t want to mess up any timelines by showing that stuff to you so lets get you home. Come on, get up. This is probably gonna be a lot easier than you expected but the time travel tech is embedded into some bracelets now and you’re just gonna slip it on and I’ll do the rest.” Harley says and guides Peter over to Mr. Stark’s work station. He rifles through a few drawers before finding what he is looking for and passes a sleek looking band over to Peter who gives it a once over before sliding it on to his wrist.

Harley grabs a stark pad off the work station and opens up a tab that Peter has never seen before. The logo looks slightly familiar and he thinks he might have seen it once before on some drafts on Mr. Stark’s table but he never payed it much attention. Peter finds his attention drawn to as simple silver band on Harley’s ring finger.

Harley glances over at Peter for just a second and registers exactly where Peter has focussed his attention. He grins slightly before returning his attention to the StarkPad and typing in the last few details of whatever information he has to input into the device.

“Is that a… are we… did we get married?” Peter stumbles over his words as he tries to fathom the idea that maybe, just maybe his future self overcame his awkwardness to ask Harley to be his husband. Harley smirks at Peter once again and simply shrugs his shoulders.

“I feel like that is apart of the spoilers that I am not supposed to tell you but you’ll just have to figure that out for yourself.” Harley replies and cuts Peter off before he can protest. “Alright, I hope you’re ready to head home. Legs apart and knees slightly bent unless you want to end up on the floor again. Deep breath in, this damn thing always knocks the wind right out of you. It was nice to see you again Pete.” Harley rushes out all in one breath and gives Peter a cocky wave before pressing a button on the StarkPad in his hands.

Peter feels a tugging on his wrist that quickly encompasses the rest of his body. He feels the weightlessness of zero gravity before he is once again falling through time. He manages to remain conscious this time but his reeling mind leaves him feeling just as disorientated as waking up in the future had. His feet connect with solid ground and the dizzying feeling of falling subsides and Peter finds himself standing beside his team.

“Man of Spiders, it is nice of you to join us! Where have you been?” Thor’s booming voice alerts the others of Peter’s presence. Before Peter can even begin to explain what happened to him, he is being pulled into a ferocious hug by his lover who is still clad in his Iron Lad suit. The face plate on the suit flips up to reveal Harley’s worried face.

“Do you have any clue how worried you had me? I feel like I’ve aged like ten years just from this experience!” Harley complains and sends Peter into a bout of barely suppressed laughter. The way Harley yells at Peter for laughing in response to his concern is completely worth it as Peter remembers the sight of the silver ring on future Harley’s finger.

#peter parker #Adorable Peter Parker #parkner #harley keener #harleypeter #super late #I don't remember if I posted this anywhere already #I'm pretty sure it never got posted #a dragon's drabbles

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yeeharley · 3 years

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war

peter parker is a child of war- harley knows this, has seen evidence in the form of bloody noses and straight-through bullet wounds and bloodshot, tired, nightmare-worn eyes after eight hours spent hiding from the darkness lurking in his closet.

he’s a child of red and blue and purple, of torn fabric and screamed curses and death. of waking up in terror and gripping harley’s forearms so hard they bruise with imprints of his fingers and sobbing into his shoulder.

peter is a tragic character in this tragic novel of their tragic lives.

but the thing is, harley keener happens to be a child of war, too.

not of the obvious war, of course- not the front lines, the battles, the high-speed fights and catastrophic injuries. harley is born of a different kind of war, a silent war, where the only time you’re fighting is when the tears sting your eyes and you know- you just know- that any kind of weakness you show can and will be held against you.

he’s a child of empty glass bottles and amber liquid and the sound of angry voices in the living room. of the thump of a fist hitting the wall, an open hand slamming against a small ear.

of lottery tickets that never find their way back to the kitchen counter.

of half-siblings he didn’t even know existed until he was seventeen, and of a younger sister who doesn’t know how to adjust to the knowledge that the man who had stood as a shadow in their doorway and screamed and screamed and screamed because the dishes hadn’t been done properly had left them for his other children.

harley keener and peter parker are both children of war, and in war, nobody truly comes out triumphant.

#it's a character study!!! a CHARACTER STUDY!!!! YAY!!!!#i wanted to kinda look at the different type of conflict in their lives because a lot of times i feel like the way they're written doesn't-#-leave much room for middle ground #because they're both fighting different wars!!!!! they both deserve happy endings and for their pain to be acknowledged!!!!!#flesh! them! out!#no romantic interests used for single-character betterment we don't stan that here #peter parker #harley keener #parkner #keenker #harleypeter #peter parker x harley keener #peter parker/harley keener #angst #character study #zach's headcanons #yeeharley's fanfic #drabble #:)#One Word Prompts #also i hc that johnathan leaves the keeners for other family #like he falls in love with someone else and leaves his first kids and just #has more #i think i got that idea from somewhere #was it impravidus #it might be

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portqas · 2 years

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both of these playlists are kind of getting some traction, so i figured enough people who don't know about 'em may also want the link? both are by me, so enjoy 😁

#harley keener #peter parker #harleypeter #spiderlad #keenker #playlist #harley x peter #harley keener playlist #Spotify

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youre-killing-me-fandom · 3 years

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Instead of taking my history test I decided to make Parkner on the sims and I HAVE BEEN GIVEN TOO MUCH POWER

THEY HAVE A CUTE NEW YORK APARTMENT AND ARE MARRIED AND HAVE A LAB IN THE BASEMENT ANDIJUSTCANT

I CAN APPARENTLY LIVE OUT MY A/B/O FANTASIES AND LET ONE OF THEM GET PREGNANT SO YALL HAVE TO GUESS WHO IT IS

#harleypeter #parkner #parley #peter parker #spiderlad #harley keener x peter parker #keenker #peterharley #harley x peter #harley keener

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shipskicksandgiggles · 3 years

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21 with parkner pls -🌸

ajshshs okay so I’ve had: a fun couple of days trying to not make this too long and then writing almost 2000 words regardless so hi hello how are you darling I hope you like this

prompt: “I’m not gonna lie I think I almost died yesterday, but I got my homework in on time so-” (from this list)

Read Initial Reaction here on ao3

~~~

“Hey babe?”

Peter sighed, already mentally preparing himself for whatever his idiot boyfriend needed. “Yes dear?”

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“So, the supervillain of the week may or may not have blown out the side of my apartment building, but I’ve got this assignment I need to turn in and I don’t have time to run anywhere else with internet so I can meet this deadline, so if you could just like, I don’t know, web my walls together or something that’d help a lot.”

“Harley.”

“Yeah?”

“What the fuck?”

“Is that a no? Because this is a part of my final grade and if I need to make arrangements to get murdered by the prof, I need a heads up now so I can work it into my schedule.”

Thank god Harley’s apartment was fairly close to the Tower. He made it in record timing, and it only took a few seconds to locate Harley’s floor.

“How stable does this need to be? The Avengers are already on the way, but you need to get to safety.”

Harley shouldn’t be smiling right now, but his boyfriend wasn’t exactly the most sane person in the world. “It just needs to not kill me for about five minutes and then I promise I’ll protect myself.”

He laid the groundwork (webwork?) to keep as much of the structure together as he could. “Why can’t you just email the prof and tell them your apartment building got blown up and that you need a few hours extension?”

“This is the one that would just tell me too bad and it’s my fault I decided to live in New York.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Yeah, well-” Harley shrugged. “Thanks for the help, babe.”

“You’re welcome. I don’t know why you don’t just live at the Tower.”

“Chances are I will after this. Go on now, be a hero or whatever you do when you dress like a bug.”

“Arachnid,” Peter corrected. “I’ll see you later.” He swung away and switched to his team coms. “What the fuck is this bastard’s problem?”

“Woah, Itsy Bitsy, that’s some strong language for the most family friendly Avenger, no offense Steve.”

“Shut the hell up, Clint. Good job with the structural integrity job on that building Spider-Man. Culprit is headed west on 13th. Think you can catch up?”

“Always. Any immediate weaknesses?”

“Not that we can see from above,” Sam responded. “Ground crew?”

“Haven’t caught up to him yet- oh hell.” Natasha swore venimently and they heard her motorcycle engine rev.

‘Oh hell’ was right. Mini portals were opening in the middle of the street and letting all sorts of nasty things through. Peter tried to surround them with web cages where he could and prayed that Tony’s repulsor blasts did the trick.

More and more portals kept popping up left and right, which kept them busy for a while. Every so often they seemed to slow down, but then a larger one would open and the cycle would start all over.

Come to think of it, that was probably why he didn’t realize-

“Uh Stark? Not to be an asshole about having to kill fewer mutant bugs, but who’s your mini-me?” Natasha asked.

“My what?”

“The suit of armor that looks like yours that’s cutting through portals like they’re made of air. I know that isn’t Rhodes. He’s on the other side of the world, and that’s not what his armor looks like.”

Sure enough, there was a second suit of armor flying right along with them.

“I don’t know who that is, Nat.”

“Honestly until Nat said something I didn’t realize there was a second Iron Man in the mix. I literally bounced off them like twice and I haven’t gotten shot so I’m guessing they’re not an enemy.”

He heard Clint laugh over the coms, and Steve sighed. “Parker, I swear to god. Be careful please.”

“Look I was gonna say something because I thought it was weird that Mr. Stark had a Hello Kitty logo painted on his hip, but it’s not super relevant so I thought I’d ask later.”

“I’m sorry, I must be hearing things,” Tony said. “I could have sworn you just said ‘Hello Kitty’.”

“Yeah, Hello Kitty.”

Hello Kitty.

Hello… Kitty.

H K

“Son of a bitch.” He shut off his coms. “Karen, get me Harley.”

He picked up on the first ring. “Hey sweetheart, you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m great babe. Did you get your assignment in?”

“Oh yeah. Thanks for saving my ass back there, I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. Say, where are you right now?”

There was a beat of silence. “I’m… safe.”

“Good. Where are you though?”

Harley didn’t say anything.

“Harley James Keener, if I were to FaceTime you right now, what would I see?”

“Okay, you’re not allowed to yell at me-”

“HARLEY! JAMES!”

He groaned. “What gave me away?”

“You’re not subtle, Princess. Or should I start calling you Kitten now?”

“I knew the decal was too much, I told Abbie-”

“Dear, I much as I love you ranting about your sister, I’m about to open up a second channel so the team can hear you. Captain?”

“Parker, you cannot go silent like that.”

“Sorry Cap, I figured out who our mystery ally is. Avengers, meet HK.”

“Hey y’all.”

Tony started laughing the second he heard Harley’s voice. “I should have guessed. Hello Kitty, huh?”

“It’s my brand now, apparently. Speaking of brands, anybody noticing a pattern with this freak?”

“Other than mutant bugs? Not really.”

“The portals are only on even numbered avenues and streets named after presidents. What are you willing to bet the guy’s using the other streets for something else?”

There was a beat of silence. “Do you see what we could have accomplished without coms chatter?” Cap asked tiredly. “Next time I lecture you all on that, I’m bringing up this exact conversation because our newest team member had to point out the obvious. Romanov, he’s closest to you.”

“Did he just say I’m an Avenger?”

“Focus Keener.”

~~~

After that, it was a matter of minutes before the battle ended. It took three of them to hold him down, but he wasn’t going to cause trouble any time soon.

“Someone please tell me why we don’t have Strange on our roster? Or at the very least have magic-adaptable cuffs on hand? This is getting really annoying.” Tony kept a repulsor aimed at his head while Barnes kept a lock on his hands, and yet the only person he really seemed afraid of was Natasha who gave him a truly impressive death glare.

“We’ll call him after we debrief. For now, just keep him there until Thor gets back. Barton and I are on paperwork. Wilson and Parker, you’re in charge of the press. Whoever managed to wrangle the Hulk is in charge of getting Banner back to the Tower. Keener, with me. You’ve got your own set of paperwork, son.”

Harley kept his mask on after the fight was over, which as much as Peter wanted to see his face, he didn’t trust himself to not punch him quite yet.

“Of course, Captain. I’ll see the rest of y’all later.” He waved and walked off with the two men.

Peter turned to Sam. “Rock, paper, scissors for who gets the news?”

“Man, c’mon, I got them last time.”

“Fine, but you owe me.”

“Deal.” They shook on it and split off to face the crowds of journalists starting to form outside the barricades.

One of the women yelled to get his attention.

“Ma’am?”

“Does Iron Man have a sidekick?”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Ma’am, a supervillain just tried to take over the streets of New York. Thankfully, there were no casualties, civilian or otherwise. The severe property damage sustained to both companies and small businesses will be taken care of by the Stark Relief Fund. As for your question, no, Iron Man does not have a sidekick. All heroes associated with the Avengers can hold their own-”

“So this new person in the suit of armor? They are an Avenger?”

“It’s not my place to say.”

“What can you say on the matter?”

Peter paused for a moment to think. “What I can tell you is this: this team and their allies do everything in their power to protect the planet Earth. It is the individual hero’s business whether or not they want to reveal their identity or even be a part of the Avengers’ team. The important thing is that we are responsible for the safety of every single person on this planet regardless of age, gender, sexuality, religious beliefs, or levels of intelligence, and do everything in our power to protect them from the beings that threaten to bring them harm. If you want to know more about the Avengers and their business, I recommend you cover official press conferences instead of cornering us after battles. Will that be all?”

The woman nodded mutely.

“Excellent. Who’s next?”

He and Sam made eye contact over the wall of reporters. It was going to be a long day.

~~~

Between that, the debrief, and the paperwork, Peter didn’t see much of Harley until the next day. The closest he got to him was seeing him across the room, helmet trapped under his arm, and a smudge of dirt and what he hoped wasn’t blood that certainly hadn’t been there when Peter had seen him in his apartment.

Now though, Harley wore soft looking clothes that were in stark contrast to the butterfly stitches he had under his eye. He was leaning against the breakfast bar when Peter came into the kitchen.

“Hey you,” he greeted.

“Hi,” Peter said. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m not gonna lie I think I almost died yesterday, but I got my homework in on time so-”

He slapped him across the face. “You idiot.”

“Ow, dude, what the fuck?”

‘Don’t you ever pull something like that again, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear darlin’.”

Peter searched his face to make sure he was telling the truth, and when he determined that he was, he leaned up to kiss him. “That was a stupid thing to do.”

“I know.”

“You scared the shit out of me.”

“I'm sorry.”

He pressed his face into Harley’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”

Harley kissed his temple. “I’m proud of you too. Want me to make breakfast and tell you how I made the suit?”

“Yes please.”

He kissed him one more time before he started to pull ingredients out of the refrigerator. “So it started back many years ago with an ordinary garage in the middle of Tennessee, a mechanic, and a Hello Kitty wrist watch…”

#parkner #harley keener x peter parker #harley keener #peter parker #harleypeter #spiderlad #established relationship #fluff and humor #there’s a little violence #Harley keener as iron lad #🌸anon #prompts #ellis writes

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volantium · 3 years

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your doorstep calls my name aka soft boys painting each others nails

for @venomondenim 🖤

also available on ao3

The thing is, Peter’s noticed, is that Harley’s always got chipped nail polish.

It begins out as a fresh coat, clean and without a single mark marring the shiny surface. But it doesn’t take long—usually only a couple of hours—before it starts flaking off. Harley never seems to notice, or mind. It chips because Harley’s so hands on, no matter what he’s doing. The likely cause is the fact that he’s always in the lab, and both of them know you aren’t meant to be wearing nail polish with all the state-of-the-art tech Tony lets them play with.

But Peter’s noticed when Harley’s tapping his fingers against the kitchen bench, and it chips off in small terrazzo pieces. Or how Harley will pick at his fingers when he’s nervous, and it peels back underneath the curve of his nail. Peter doesn’t know what any of this means, that he has this knowledge lurking in the back of his head. It’s just another Harley-ism he’s taken stock of, analysed and put into the drawer of everything else he knows about his best friend, and thusly resolutely and absolutely not thought about again.

He almost always wears black nail polish. Peter can count on one hand the amount of times Harley’s had bright yellow or red fingernails. It follows, logically, that this only occurs whenever Harley’s looking after Morgan.

The thing is, Peter thinks, as he watches one such time, Morgan painting careful lines of bright purple half on Harley’s thumb nail and half on his skin, is that he wouldn’t mind if that was him instead.

Peter’s never had nail polish on before.

He wonders what it’s like.

This thought sits with him for the next few weeks, as he watches Harley chip his black nail polish without a care in the world. Would it be okay if he asked Harley? Would it be okay if he asked why it’s always black? Would it be okay if he asked Harley to paint his nails, maybe, just once, so he knows what it’s like?

They’re hanging out after class one day, supposedly studying for their upcoming midterms, but Harley’s sat at his desk with a bottle of black nail polish and is slowly rubbing off the remnants of his last paintjob with a cotton pad. Peter’s leaning with his back to the wall on Harley’s bed, watching him from across the room, his biology exam notes spread around him.

He watches Harley carefully tip the bottle of acetone upside down so it soaks the cotton pad and presses it to his nail. Peter knows he’ll leave it for a little while, so the chemicals break down the polish, he’s watched Harley do this often enough that he knows black’s hard to get off.

Peter takes a breath, steeling himself for reasons he doesn’t even know.

“Harl?” He calls, just slightly louder than the music playing from Harley’s computer.

Harley doesn’t look back when he replies. “Yeah, darlin’?”

It’s been years of Harley calling him darling in that honeyed accent of his, Peter’s used to it, but like everything else that Peter resolutely and absolutely doesn’t think about, this time it makes something swoop low in his stomach and butterfly settle high amongst his rib cage.

“Can I ask a question?”

“You just did,” Harley says, and even from across the room Peter can see a hint of a smirk flirt across his face. “But you can ask another.”

Peter isn’t in the mood to deal with smarmy Harley James Keener attitude right now. Too focused on the fact that this is finally his chance to figure out Harley just a little bit more.

“Why do you wear nail polish?”

He can tell Harley wasn’t expecting that particular question in the way his shoulders tense and he goes still.

But this is Harley—Harley should know why he’s asking.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” he rambles anyways, because Harley still hasn’t said anything. “I just wanted to know, you don’t have to tell me, like you’ve done it the entire time we’ve known each other, I think it’s cool—”

“Peter, darlin’,” Harley interjects, fond amusement colouring his voice. “Calm down.”

Peter takes a breath, lets it out. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to apologise for, I just wasn’t expecting you to ask.”

Peter’s shoulders slump when Harley remains quiet for the following minute, only for Harley to get up from his desk and make his way over towards the bed, settling in amongst Peter’s textbooks and worksheets and the green bedsheets.

“Because my dad always hated it,” is what Harley eventually says.

“Oh.”

It’s kind of half the answer Peter was expecting. He knows enough, between Tony and what Harley’s told him, to connect the dots.

“I’m sorry.”

“Darlin’,” Harley says, looking at him with those sea-blue eyes. “You gotta stop apologising for stuff that ain’t your fault.”

Peter flushes. “Do you think you could paint mine? I’ve never done it before.”

“I’m guessin’ you wouldn’t want black though, right?”

“Do you have any pastels?” Peter asks, in a smaller voice than he means to.

Harley nods. “I’m sure I’ve got some somewhere, I usually save ‘em for Morgan or Abby.”

Harley stands up to go find them, and Peter starts nervously playing with the fraying hem of his hoodie. It’s a faded red and too large and has Rose Hill High scrawled across it in big block letters and not his hoodie at all.

This is when it clicks—the oh moment in his head, that maybe he likes Harley just a bit more than friends should.

Harley returns in the midst of this revelation, setting the handful of coloured polishes down on his bedside table, clinking as the glass bottles knock against each other.

Peter wonders how his world hasn’t been tipped upside down and come to a grinding halt, too.

“This was all I could find,” Harley says, sitting across from him on the bed. “Gonna look like you dipped your hand in a bag of Easter eggs.”

He’s right—there’s pale pinks and blues and yellows like right out of a candy store, but Peter loves them.

“No, it’s fine. They’re nice colours.”

Harley smiles at him, bright and beautiful, and Peter has to marvel, just a bit how he didn’t realise before the depth of his feelings.

“Give me your hand.”

Peter holds his hand out for Harley to take. They’ve held hands before—Peter’s a tactile person—but there’s something new about this, the way Harley gently twists his fingers around so he can paint them comfortably and correctly.

“What colour do you want me to start with?” Harley asks, quiet, his voice barely a rumble in his chest.

Peter looks up at him. Harley’s looking down at his hand and back at the colours on the table every now and again, like he’s thinking of the perfect pattern for Peter’s nails. It’s late afternoon, and the sun is starting to set; it floods the room in a wash of orange-gold, and in the sunlight Harley glows. The freckles across his nose, the faint blonde in his hair gilded and shining, and the clear crystal of his eyes, hidden ever so slightly beneath gold eyelashes. It makes Peter a little breathless, just looking at him.

“You chose,” Peter finally says, maybe a little but too long after Harley asked. “You know more than me.”

Harley sweeps the pad of his thumb over Peter’s fingernail, just enough that it catches amongst the groves of his fingerprint.

“Yeah, okay,” Harley says, and reaches for the yellow.

They sit in silence as Peter watches Harley paint his nails. Yellow on his thumb, then egg-blue on his forefinger. The pale millennial pink goes on his middle finger, then blue, then yellow again.

Harley’s moved onto Peter’s other hand by the time Peter figures out how to say it.

“Harley?”

Harley hums in acknowledgement, too busy concentrating on painting his nail blue without leaving streaks.

“I really like you,” Peter confesses.

Harley gives a short laugh, still doesn’t look up. “I’d hope so, we are best friends, right, Parker?”

“No,” he says, and waits until Harley stops painting and lifts his head. “I like you like you.”

“Oh, okay,” Harley gives a simple shake of his shaggy blonde head, and goes back to painting Peter’s nails with careful concentration. “I like you like you, too.”

Peter blinks. “Don’t just say that.”

“I’m not.”

“Harley.” “Peter,” Harley parrots, finally looking up at him. “Have you met you? Of course, I like you, dumbass.”

“You’re the worst, Keener.”

Harley smirks once more. “No, I’m not. You like me like me.”

“I—” Peter starts, cutting himself off, because Harley’s leaning closer.

“Peter,” Harley says, his voice soft and low. “Can I kiss you?”

Peter nods, unable to speak, and then—

Harley kisses him.

It’s soft and it’s sweet and it’s not at all how Peter imagined his first kiss with a boy would be. But it’s Harley and that counts for something. Harley’s hand comes up to cup his jaw, light and tender, and Peter has to remind himself he currently has wet pastel paint on his nails and can’t sink his hands into Harley’s hair without tragedy occurring.

Harley tilts his head, thumb sweeping across Peter’s cheekbone, deepening the kiss just enough that those butterflies in Peter’s stomach all fly off at once.

“So,” Harley says, after they pull back and the both of them smile like fools. “Do you wanna paint my nails?”

“They’ll look bad.”

“No they won’t,” Harley disagrees, and, because he knows that Peter likes him likes him, says, “They’ll be perfect, ‘cause it’s you.”

Peter leans forward to brush a shy kiss to Harley’s cheek, and reaches for the black nail polish.

#parkner #parley #harleypeter #harley keener #peter parker #i've written like 6k in the past week for fics and NOT my thesis someone make it make sense #drabble #u: mcu #p: parkner #f: fire escape verse

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