Irondad & Spiderson Oneshots

Pieces of You

This is just a short and sweet Parkner drabble about moving in together! 

It's been a hot minute since I've written something purely happy and uncomplicated, and I'd missed it, not gonna lie, so here we are! :) (When I say 'hopeless,' you say 'romantic') (Yes, this is a self call out)

Thank you so much for reading! :) If you have any Irondad oneshot ideas, feel free to comment about what I could write! Have a great day/night!

Bye :)

Make sure you pool and split finances. Look at rent and grocery bills together, Tony had said.

Delegate chores- and keep the litter box in the den, Ned and MJ had agreed.

Think over and talk about how you're feeling and if you're ready, May had emphasized. Make sure you're both happy and comfortable.

Peter laughed aloud softly at all the memories. He wouldn't lie, he'd really loved each and every minute of the pre-moving-in process, over-involved family included.

Getting a place together after graduation had been Harley's idea, and he and Peter had been daydreaming about it together since February. Now June, Peter was finally stepping foot for the first time, as it's official owner, in the place they'd picked out.

The apartment was a quaint but breathable space that opened right into the kitchen and sitting room. The walls were a baby-sky blue- the couple's compromise on color dubbings- and the bookshelves were lined with maybe hundreds of books.

Peter loved it.

Eager to get a headstart, Peter hopped to grab his suitcase and Harley's, making a beeline for the mini-master. Down at SI, where both of the boys worked, Harley was staying late a few extra hours, and he'd told Peter that he could head over and get set up without him if he wanted to.

Peter unzipped Harley's suitcase, and although he nearly had to duck for cover at the explosion the overstuffed bag brought, he decided to unpack some stuff for him.

Sitting on the top of the stack, Harley had packed a pair of sneakers that Peter recognized as his running shoes. He snatched them and took them into the kitchen where he rummaged around for fifteen minutes in search of wipes. (One would think that a tiny kitchen wouldn't have that many nooks and crannies to scour, but apparently not.) Peter located the Lysol canister with a victorious pump of his fist, and then spent another fifteen minutes cleaning all the dirt and mud off of Harley's shoes. He set them tidily in the spot right beside the front door, satisfied that his boyfriend would be ready for his run tomorrow.

Back inside the bedroom, Peter found Harley's reading glasses in a higher pocket of the suitcase. They'd thankfully made it through the moving journey uncracked and unscathed.

Harley didn't really need reading glasses anymore, and it was a rarity that he actually ever wore them, but his mother had insisted that he bring them with him, "just in case". Peter giggled aloud and set them on the top corner of a small bedside table. Just in case.

Unsurprisingly, the bulk of the stuff in Harley's suitcase was stacks of sweaters and sweatshirts. Peter reached to grab a pile and set it on the bed, and once he had hold of the whole stack, he was up to his elbows in fluffy tops. Both Peter and Harley's priority was ever and always keeping warm and snug. Peter recognized more than half of the sweaters as ones that he'd bought for Harley or Harley had swiped from him, but the habit was admittedly mirrored with Peter's collection, too.

Folded carefully at the bottom of the suitcase was a handful of tee-shirts and long sleeves. The casual wear was positively flattened from the weight that had been pressing down on it, but Peter still tried his best to smooth the shirts out and hang them up. The result was a bit depressing considering that he worked in an engineering department, but Peter spent most of his time in chemistry labs, so he let himself off the hook.

The last portion to unpack was Harley's suitcase's little pockets. This was probably the bit Peter was most curious about; Harley was always sticking things in places and carrying around random things. Peter's boyfriend was on the more mechanical end of the engineering spectrum, and also a huge dork, so Peter was bemused to go through the suitcase and find two small acorns, an old flip phone, a two-inch-by-two-inch bag of cat treats, and even more assorted stuff. The left pocket had seemingly been delegated as the keepsake pocket- Peter pulled out a black tie of Harley's that he recognized from their first formal dance together. He set it delicately on the bed and emptied the pocket completely, this time retrieving a pair of bunny slippers that the two had jokingly agreed looked more like their cat than a bunny. Harley had a silly tradition of always using them for cuteness points when the other man was stressed out or needed cheering up.

When Peter had everything from inside the suitcase's large portion situated, he folded the top back over and rummaged around that packet. Harley had packed jumbles upon jumbles of jewelry and makeup. Peter didn't have the first clue how to apply eyeliner or even secure a necklace clasp without being able to look at it, but he admired Harley for his love of it all. Peter put those things on the bedside table, too.

Peter took a step back to the threshold of the bedroom's doorway, admiring his work. He'd left Harley's personal bag on the couch, but everything else in this room was nicely arranged. Peter was a little proud of his early-bird sorting, and he'd definitely savored simply getting to notice stuff about Harley that was reflected in his belongings. For those two, it was about the detailed eye, and remembering the little things.

Plus, when Harley came home a few hours after, he hadn't stopped gushing about how sweet Peter was. Wrapped in his boyfriend's hug after a grand reveal of a very organized sweater closet, Peter decided, Home is definitely where the heart is.

{The End}