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“Harry, are you sure about this?” Peter whispers, Harry grinning as he looks back at him.
His glasses are crooked and a little smudged, staring at Harry in disbelief as his eyes track over to the high school then back at him.
“It’s the only way we’re gonna win,” Harry says confidently despite not feeling as such. It was easier that way, faster— to get Peter to go along with half his schemes. Peter was “sensitive”, as his mom always says— his father always muttering something under his breath about it that Harry, and his mother, would always ignore.
“You be good to him, Harry,” his mom would say, gentle but still firm as she nodded towards him. “He needs your strength.”
Harry knew it, in a way so few others did. MJ did too, the three of them banding together to get through the hell that was high school— the two of them committed to making sure Peter made it through high school.
Asthma, a penchant for broken bones, terrible vision and a bad sense of direction— Peter wouldn’t know up from down if it wasn’t Harry and they both knew that, relying on each other in the only way they knew how.
Peter was the brains and Harry— well, he wasn’t Flash Thompson. He got shoved around some lockers just as much as Peter but he could handle it. He was the strong one, knew that Peter was destined for bigger and better things than the halls of Midtown High.
It was Harry’s responsibility to make sure he got there.
First, they had to win.
“Trust me,” Harry says, knowing from the look on Peter’s face that he wouldn’t think of doing anything but. “I got you.”
Peter breathes in, breathes out and then a soft smile— the look of it never failing to cause Harry’s stomach to twist.
“I know,” Peter says and it’s all the courage Harry needs.
“Come on, this way,” he says, rushing forward— Peter trailing behind him. Harry doesn’t mind, he’s the one who threw himself forward— always looking out for Peter.
For Peter, Harry would do anything.
Peter groans in frustration, throwing a pencil across the room.
“Careful,” Harry says drolly, “you might actually show an emotion.”
Peter sighs again, head in his hands as he sits hunched over his desk. His hands must move to cover his face because his voice is muffled as he speaks, Harry looking over the textbook he hasn’t been reading for the past ten minutes.
He’s been too busy being focused on Peter, knowing from years of friendship that it wasn’t his ochem homework that was causing him to act this way.
“It’s—“ Peter begins, then cuts himself off, before turning around in his chair. “ I’m not the one who said we were hanging out, right? She’s the—“ Peter presses his lips together, Harry smirking as he gives up on any pretense of studying and closes his own.
“Complete sentences, buddy.”
“MJ,” Peter says, as if it wasn’t obvious— as if Harry hasn’t been the awkward third wheel for the past three nights in a row as they pretended that this thing that was happening between them wasn’t, in fact, happening. “She’s…”
Peter trails off, Harry waiting a beat to confirm that there wasn’t anything else to continue with that statement when Harry raises an eyebrow.
“MJ,” he says definitively, Peter finally looking up at him and then smirking— some of the tension easing out of his shoulders.
“You’ll figure it out, man,” Harry says with a smile. “You always do.”
“Yeah,” Peter replies softly, looking at Harry in a way that just makes his stomach twist in the same way it did since they were kids. “Thanks, Har.”
Harry smiles, ignoring the way Peter looks at him makes him feel. He’s had a lot of practice with it after all.
It was inevitable, Harry thinks, this thing between Peter and MJ. Halfway through their freshman year at ESU and Harry’s sure that they’ll be together by winter break— dancing around each other back and forth so much that it made his head spin.
Harry sees the way Peter looks at MJ and how she looks right back, completely oblivious to the other. Not to Harry, who sees right through it and knows deep down what this will mean for the three of them.
Harry knows what it’s like to love Peter Parker.
“Anytime,” Harry finally says, Peter holding his gaze for a beat. Then two.
Each time he did, it was as if Peter could read his mind— as if he knew how stupidly in love with him he was and how much he lived and relived all those awkward late nights between the two of them growing up.
Harry’s had his fair share of relationships, if you could call it that— the one benefit of being an Osborn being that he was never without a date or someone to take home. Those guys were fine, maybe even fun, but sometimes Harry would find himself still ending the night with his hands down his pants, eyes closed and reliving the few months back at Midtown when he and Peter were more than just friends.
It had been a joke, at first— at least that’s how he thinks Peter saw it, a kiss underneath the bleachers just to see what it was like leading to wandering hands in Peter’s bedroom when May was out.
It was juvenile, simple— sweet in the way Peter’s cheeks would flush when Harry would unzip his jeans, soft pants and moans that reverberated around his mind for years as Harry learned just what to do to make those sounds keep coming out of him.
It ended just as suddenly as it started, after his mom died— coming back from a summer vacation with neither of them saying a word.
It was in moments like this, when Peter was staring at him like he is, that made Harry wonder if Peter ever thought about it too— Harry’s smile falling slightly when Peter gets up.
“Where you going?” He asks, only for his mouth to grow dry when Peter comes closer to him, feeling his chest tighten as Peter holds his gaze— leaning over him.
“You remember high school?” Peter asks, Harry feeling his own cheeks warm as he snorts.
“I try not to,” he says, an attempt at humor that falls short from the way Peter’s staring at him— almost hovering as he leans over him, eyes dipping down to his lips then back up to his eyes.
“Pete…”
“Do you?” Peter asks again, so close that Harry’s breath hitches— never one to turn down an opportunity when he reaches forward, bridging the distance between them.
Harry moans when Peter lets his weight gently rest on him, bringing him closer as he breathes into the kiss before breaking it as he asks, “are you sure?”
Peter breathes in then out, neither of them moving a muscle in a moment that feels like it could stretch forever. Harry knows Peter is thinking of MJ and of this not-thing that was yet to happen and he also knows that the longer Peter hovers over him, the less chance he has of having any control over his dick— feeling himself begin to harden from the subtle shift of Peter’s hips.
“I trust you,” Peter whispers and it’s all the permission Harry needs, moving his hands to pull Peter on top of him and bringing him into a kiss.
He swipes his tongue across his lip and relishes the moan Peter gives as he slips his tongue into his month, hands wandering now with more experience and more purpose— more trust now than the last time they’d done this.
Hands and tongue and textbooks shoved to the side, Harry’s not thinking of the consequences of this or how bad of a decision it could be— what little strength or self-control he had lost to the feel of Peter’s hands moving hard and fast, of Peter’s tongue in his mouth as he does the same.
He’s only thinking of this moment with him, his best friend— chests heaving and panting hard as they lay side by side on his twin sized bed, staring up at the ceiling in a comfortable silence.
Peter will figure this thing out with MJ, Harry knows it without either of them having to say it. Peter is his best friend, he always will be.
Harry knows he would do anything for him.
There is a power like he’s never felt that’s running through his veins.
It’s power unlike any he’s ever known, strength that feeds him and fuels him— makes him feel more alive than he’s ever felt before.
Strength, power, and yet none of it matters in an instant— Kraven holding Peter by one hand and a knife in the other.
“ NO !” Harry screams but the blade’s already disappeared, Harry feeling an overwhelming rage flooding his senses.
He explodes, the suit spilling out his rage with him as he takes down the enemies he was fighting in a single swoop— immediately rushing to Kraven as MJ runs to grab Peter.
They limp away, all of Harry’s focus and attention stuck on taking Kraven down.
“I’M GONNA KILL YOU!” Harry yells out as he whales on him, back and forth as Kraven laughs and jeers back.
Harry doesn’t hear any of it, focused now as he hits that much harder, fights that much faster till they’re on the roof— only for his heart to skip a beat at the sound of MJ’s cries.
He slams Kraven down one final time before flying back down to Peter, his heart sinking at the way MJ’s hands shake.
“No, no, no,” Harry says in a loop, shaking his head in disbelief. He pulls the mask off and it’s like everything else goes out of focus, MJ’s quiet sobs the only thing grounding him to the present.
He hates that it does, a rage building inside of him that echoes back to how he felt on that football field the night his mother died— the thought of Peter leaving just like—
“Come on, you remember that time in third grade…” Harry begins only for his voice to crack, bringing a hand up to Peter’s temple— his thumb gently brushing against him.
No , he thinks in a voice that doesn’t sound like his own, not him . Harry is too mired in his own grief and his desperation to realize what’s happening until it’s already begun, black tendrils from his suit slowly moving towards Peter— Harry feeling the moment that the power within him slowly begins to ebb away, the black suit encompassing Peter as both he and MJ sharply inhale.
The suit is gone and with it, Harry feels it— an immediate effect of his breath getting too short, his body feeling weak in a way he thought was long gone.
Harry says nothing, too relieved as Peter gets back up.
For Peter, Harry would do anything.
It’s going to kill him .
Harry can’t fight it. Venom is too strong, stronger than Harry had even realized. It feels foolish now, to think that this had been his salvation.
His salvation might spell doom for everyone.
More— for Peter.
“Let’s heal the world, Pete,” Harry gasps, Peter looking at him in disbelief. He shakes his head, tear streaked cheeks and still the most beautiful person Harry’s ever seen.
He sees it in Peter’s eyes— the fear, the love, the indescribable pain of what he’s asking him to do. But Harry knows now, Peter’s always been the strong one. Peter is the hero.
Peter will make this right.
“Now, Pete!”
Peter comes up, puts a hand to his chest— all of Harry’s strength pulling Venom, pulling himself , apart.
“NOW!”
Peter cries out, Harry’s own screams overtaking anything and everything else.
Just like before, he feels it when Venom is gone— his vision growing dark around the edges.
“I love you,” Peter whispers, quiet and devastating as Harry breathes.
For Peter, Harry would do anything.
Harry smiles, eyes closing as he does.
For Peter, he did.