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The list of reasons that Harry continued to stick around Peter was forever growing, and despite the whole Spider-debacle and the rift of different lives often forcing them apart, the two somehow managed to stay conjoined at the molecular level. Sometimes, though, Harry really wished he’d been molecularly conjoined to anyone else.
Or, at the very least, somebody who didn’t have a knack for—and borderline enjoyment of— blowing things up.
The two had been dicking around in their lab, a private part of Oscorp Labs that kept all their extra hero junk in one place instead of lying around in the open. Harry had been fiddling with the deck of his Glider in an attempt to better the locking mechanism of his boots, and Peter was across from him with one of his web-shooters.
“Hey, Harry?” Peter asked offhandedly, fixated on taking out the teeny-tiny screws that held his main mode of transportation together.
“Yeah?” Harry was similarly out of it, tongue stuck out between his teeth as he carefully pried loose the panel of the locking mechanism.
“You ever sit around with nothing to do in the middle of the night and just think about stopping with the heroing? Or that just in case thought of ‘what if this doesn’t work?’”
“Sometimes, yeah.” Harry shrugged. “But I always figure that I’d only stop when you did, otherwise you’d end up doing something stupid without me.”
“As in ‘I’d do something stupid that you wanted in on’ or ‘I’d do something stupid that you’d otherwise stop me from doing?’” Harry looked up to find Peter blinking at him through the auburn curtain of his overlong bangs.
“Honestly, I have no idea at this point.” Peter barked a laugh at that, but sobered uncharacteristically quick, and Harry pulled a face.
“What’s goin’ on, Pete? Something happen?”
“No, not really, just…thinking too much. Again.”
“About what?”
“Literally everything, but other than that…what I’m gonna do once we’re out of high school is pretty high up on my list of things to obsess over.” He faceplanted into the desk with a groan, brushing his web-shooter and screwdriver off to the side.
“I mean, we could always use someone like you in the lab, if you wanted it.” Harry offered, much to his friend’s vocal displeasure.
“Dude, no, you’ve already done way more than enough for me and Aunt May. I’m ninety-five percent sure that I’m a nepotism baby at this point.”
“Nah, that’s my job, Petey. You just gotta turn those puppy-dog eyes on ‘em and they’ll forget we’re buddies. Or blow them out of the water with that big brain of yours.” He flicked Peter’s forehead and got his wrist swatted for it. “Whichever works better for you.”
“I think the only people that actually fall victim to my quote-unquote ‘puppy-dog eyes’ are you and Gwen. And it only works for Gwen on a good day.”
“Never hurts to try anyways, my good buddy.”