It Happens to the Best of Us

17: Small, but not unimportant.

Harley's hand glides over the goosebumps on my bare back.

"You okay? You're acting a little strange."

"Cabin fever."

He nods.

"Pete, you get that you won't be able to get in, right?"

"I have my ways."

I lift up a silk shirt from the bag of new clothes from Mister Stark, and awkwardly slide my hairy-ass legs into a pair of black jeans.

"You're wearing that?" I ask, pushing his chest.

"Well, yeah-I mean-"

"Go. Change." My eyes are fierce, and they get my point across. Despite being shit brown, they're surprisingly useful for conveying what words can't.

He nods, a little scared and drags his heels out the door.

(A/N BTW, we're just going to assume that Peter is 15 (almost 16) and Harley is 17 because...reasons.

I know it's incorrect; don't come at me.

Actually, do. I'm bored.)

I'm in jeans and a blazer, with heeled combat boots because why the fuck not. Moussing my hair in the mirror, I slide the Edith glasses on. My eyes wander to that drawer in my walk in closet that I never opened.

Yes.

My eyes glaze over the different watches in the velvet lined drawers; I'm bewildered. There's a flashy one, a gold one, a minimalist one, a nanotech one, a dual-function web shooter watch-everything I've never wanted. It's almost nauseating. I run my fingers greedily over the metal clasp of the nanotech one. It's red and blue, and I can see that the spider web designs etched into the metal had to have been hand-carved by Mister Stark. With a sigh and a badass watch, I run my hands through my hair like a total fuckboy (oops) and open my door to see Harley leaning in the doorway.

Holy shit.

He's wearing a dark purple three-piece with flaming red accents inside the cuffs and lining, his shirt unbuttoned around a necklace.

HOLY SHIT.

I can feel my cheeks heating up.

Be cool, be cool...

"You sure clean up well."

He smiles smugly.

"Likewise."

Harley frowns at my boots, then shrugs.

Bitch, shut the fuck up. Imma wear what I want.

"Wh-they're just...do you want me to change? I mean, if they make you uncomfortable..."

I'm still an inch or so shorter than him.

"No, no. It's cute, actually." He grins mischievously.

Yeah, that's what I thought!

He puts his hand on his hip, and I loop my elbow through his. It's admittedly a little awkward, but I'm grateful for the heels.

I feel a familiar tingling sensation, and I pull away from the door.

"Gimme a second." I run to my desk and scribble a note, bending it to prop it up on the table.

"Really? 'Out collecting silk samples for webshooters'?"

"You got a better idea?"

"Yes, actuall-AAAASHIIIIT."

Before he can finish, I open the window and shoot to the neighbouring building with a web.