» ʜᴀʀʟᴇʏ x ᴘᴇᴛᴇʀ (ᴘᴀʀʟᴇʏ: ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇᴅ)

Part 16

3RD POV (gosh I'm doing so many of these ones, gotta start doing more first person stuff)

"Peter oh my god, you scared me so much." Tony was currently squeezing the life out of his son, the one that nearly died today.

"Heh, you gotta weak heart. Probably shouldn't scare you anymore." A small chuckle came from the elder, but it soon ceased.

Silence filled the air, until Tony broke it.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked in a soft voice, letting Peter go just enough to be able to see his face. He looked down at his son, who's eyes were glistening with tears.

"Because... because you wouldn't of let me be spiderman anymore. 

Because you would think that I'm a freak.

Because I was scared that you would of abandoned me."

"Peter.

I would never abandon you.

I would never think of you as a feak.

You are my son, no matter what.

And look at everyone else here, we are all strange in different ways. But never, never think that I would think of you - or anyone else - as a freak.

I'm just afraid that one day.

you won't be here anymore.

It would kill me to wake up and not hear your voice in the mornings.

It would kill me no know that you won't be coming back.

It would kill me to know that I had failed as a father."

The next few moments were filled with silence once again, and the occaisional sniffle from the odd god or mutant.

"So can I still go spidermanning?" 

"Of course you can, but we'll just need to set some rules.

First off, you need to be more careful.

And you have to be back before 2am, if you know you're too far away and'll be late or something then just call me to tell me you're fine.

We'll also have to put in a tracker, but I'll be able to activate it from a distance, so it'll be off until we'll need it."

Peter hugged his dad again, snuffling into his shirt.

"Sounds good."

"That's good, now go and have a shower. You smell like vision's cooking."

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Peter stepped in the shower, the warm water patting his back softly, steam soon filling the atmosphere.

He mindlessly washed himself, thinking about what would of happened if he didn't hold up the building.

If he had died.

When he was snapped out of his thoughts by pain he found himself standing infront of the cupboard mirror, a small yet deep cut running across his cheekbone. 

A couple of fading bruises along his body accompanying it.

What did I ever do to get this?

He sighed and pulled out a small box - his medical kit - before walking into his bedroom, flopping down onto his bed like a saggy di- pizza.

Peter was currently wearing another baggy shirt, a blue one, reflecting the colour of Harley's eyes, and his black and white adidas shorts.

The door shut with a light click, a tall southern boy walking towards the new yorker. 
"Hey darlin' , need some help." The brunett nodded, handing the kit to the taller.

"This may sting a little, please bare with me darlin'." Peter did nothing but flinch the slightest as Harley cleaned and stitched his cut as swiftly as he could. 

It was only then at the end when the southerner realised just how close he was to him, he started to pull away, apologising when a soft hand wrapped itself around the nape of his neck.

Peter pulled him closer and pecked him on the lips, Harley observed the flustered boy.

 His cheeks tinted bright red, brown curls just falling over his forehead. He chuckled, pulling his lover into another deep and passionate kiss.

Warm tears slipping down both their faces.

We're still here, and together.

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I've done too many depressing chapters. What should I do for the next one?

Like a cute fluffy one or maybe Harley teasing Peter's wrists? comment 🔜

Sorry for the short chapter, I'm still in pain