𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚜

Invisible String

A fucking god.

He must've been staring too long, because then, Harley made eye contact with him. A flash of recognition flashed through Harley's eyes, a huge smile forming on his face.

"Well if it isn't Peter Parker," Harley announced, earning the glances of a few customers. "Hope you aren't too sore from yesterday," he stage-whispered, winking. Of course, this got a few shocked looks at the hidden innuendo.

"No, no," Peter protested. "Not like that. He just accidentally tackled me." But that didn't do anything, instead he just got a thumbs up from a guy in the corner.

"Aw, darlin. Should I be hurt. First, I get no notifications from you, now this? I feel wounded," Harley joked.

The corners of Peter's mouth perked up, his serotonin levels going up every moment he spend with Harley.

"Actually, I was just about to call you."

"Really?" Harley asked, eyebrows raised.

"Well," Peter said, tone faltering. "Once I figured out to say. So it may have happened in anytime from a week...to a decade."

Harley laughed, ringing out through the space. Peter grinned widely, the sound of Harley's laugh sounding like bells to him.

"Well, since we don't have to worry about that...how about I take you out for dinner tonight?" Harley asked, leaning over the counter.

Peter blushed at the distance between them and slightly smiled. "Okay."

"Great, darlin! It's a date," he said, winking and going back to work like nothing had happened.

"Is this real..."

§

That night, Peter pulled out his phone to text Harley with his address when all of the sudden, his doorbell rang. Eyebrows scrunched, Peter went over to answer it. Standing there was Harley, a big grin on his face and a bouquet of flowers.

Peter's smile matched Harley's and he invited him in. "How did you know where I live?"

"Let's just say...I have my sources, darlin," Harley smirked. "Also your friend MJ found me and told me. She also told me not to be a 'sissy' and to take you on a real date."

Peter turned beet red and buried his head in his hands. "Oh no, I'm so sorry, Harley. She really doesn't have a filter."

Harley chuckled at Peter's embarrassed state. "It's okay, darlin. I think it's good she's so protective of you. It means I won't have to worry about you twenty-four seven because of your tendency to get tackled in public," he teased.

"It was one time!" Peter laughed. "Plus, it was totally your fault. You need someone to make sure you don't fall anymore."

"Why, I think it's too late for that...isn't it?"

Peter shyly looked down at his shoes, trying to hide the growing blush, which he seemed to be doing a lot around Harley.

"Anyways," Harley said. "I think it's time to be going. The cab is waiting, my darlin."