Parley Oneshots

Scarlet Snow

Request by anarinette 

Random fact: I think the aesthetic of blood on fresh snow is just so ✨✨

TW: blood, injury

Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel.

3rd Person P.O.V.

Harley's day started out fine.

It was a cold December day, Christmas had passed and now he was looking forward to the new year. It was snowing, powdery white snow coating the ground and roads by his little house in the woods. His boyfriend, Peter, had gone out that morning, and still hadn't returned. Harley didn't think much of it, Peter was always losing track of times and often came home late.

It was fine, hanging out alone in their house. It was quiet and peaceful, and Harley truly didn't mind it. But another part of him wanted to do something more exciting, and that's how he got himself out in the woods, snowshoeing on their marked trail inbetween the towering maples and evergreens of upstate New York.

It was cold outside, and Harley found himself turning around after only ten minutes and heading back to their house. As he approached the edge of the treeline, he spotted Peter's car in the driveway, smiling. His boyfriend was home, finally! He wouldn't be bored with Peter around...

Harley got closer to the house, seeing something dark against the snow. He squinted curiously, getting closer to it. His heart dropped when he figured out what it was.

A dark trail leading from the driver's side of Peter's car to the front porch... blood. There was a stark contrast between the pure white snow and the crimson red of the blood trail, sending shivers up Harley's spine. It was a sick aesthetic, so beautiful yet so unnerving, the dark red splatters interrupting the serene ability of the powdery snow.

Harley unstrapped his snowshoes, running inside. He dropped his coat and gloves at the door, ripping off his boots at throwing them down.

"PETER?!" He called, spotting some blood spatters on the floor. "WHERE ARE YOU?!"

"Here," a voice responded weakly from the bathroom. Harley had never run so fast. Peter was sitting on the bathroom floor, leaned up against the wall. His breathing was labored, but otherwise he looked ok.

"Peter, darlin', what's going on? Why is there blood outside-" the southern boy froze, eyes locked on his boyfriend's shirt. "Is that- IS THAT BLOOD?!"

"Yeaaahhhh..." Peter nodded sheepishly, eyes drooping. "I kinda... kinda got stabbed..." Harley's eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

"YOU WENT TO THE GROCERY STORE! HOW DID YOU GET STABBED?!" The smaller boy winced, turning his head away slightly. Harley took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Peter was looking awfully pale, and- was that blood stain on his shirt growing? "Shit, shit, sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you, I'm sorry... just..." he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fuck. Take off your shirt." Peter blushed lightly, the dusty pink standing out against his pale skin. "Peter, we've been dating for five years, just take your goddamn shirt off."

Harley searched the bathroom cabinet, pulling out some supplies. They didn't have a med kit, per se, but they had the essentials. He turned back to see Peter struggling with his shirt, hands weak from blood loss. Harley turned a shade whiter himself, feeling a spark of panic within him.

"Sorry..." Peter mumbled, closing his eyes as Harley helped him get his shirt off. He leaned back, groaning and resting his head against the wall.

"No, no, wake up, you can't go to sleep yet!" The blond frowned, examining the stab wound. "Jesus, Pete..." He murmured. Harley took a clean washcloth, running it under warm water before dabbing at the wound. Peter hissed, fingers curling into a fist. "You better not punch me," Harley deadpanned, eyeing the brunette's balled fist hesitantly.

"Shut. Up," Peter growled through clenched teeth, eyebrows furrowed. Harley's expression softened, morphing to one of guilt.

"Sorry, I know it hurts..." He wiped away the last of the blood surrounding the wound, throwing the washcloth on the counter. "Just let me finish cleaning this up, ok? Then you can rest." Peter groaned, nodding. His eyes were closed, and he looked relieved. "You're doing so well, darlin'." Harley murmured words of encouragement, frowning. Peter wasn't really responding anymore, which concerned the southern boy. He poured on some hydrogen peroxide on without warning, hoping for some sort of reaction.

"FUCK, HARLS!" Peter screamed, jolting up with surprise. He immediately grimaced, slowly leaning back to where he was before. "Why'd you do that..." He mumbled, wincing and breathing heavily.

"It's gotta be clean or else it'll get infected," Harley grinned sheepishly, gently applying a cream to the wound before taping a gauze pad over it. "There. That should be fine." He got up, nodding. Peter mumbled something incoherently, attempting to stand up on his own. Harley stopped him quickly, eyebrow raised disapprovingly.

"Darlin', just let me. You shouldn't be moving, just stay here for a moment and I'll be right back." Harley ran out, coming back with a juice box and a chocolate chip cookie. He handed the cookie to Peter, letting him nibble on it while he tried to get the juice box open. He finally did it, giving the brunette the juice as well.

"That should help. After you're done, how about I take you upstairs and we go lay down for a little while, hmm?" Harley suggested, smiling at Peter's slow nod. He finished the cookie and was just sipping on the juice box, sighing softly.

"Kay, I'm done." Peter handed Harley the empty juice box, pushing himself up before Harley swooped in and picked him up. "Harls!" He exclaimed, giggling softly. The southern boy grinned, pressing a kiss to Peter's forehead. There was a bit more color to his skin now, which was calming.

"Oh shush, you're injured, I'm going to carry you," Harley insisted, kicking the door to their room and carrying Peter to their bed before laying him down gently and climbing into bed next to him.

"This sucks... I don't want to be in bed all weekend!" Peter complained, crossing his arms (up high, so he wouldn't disturb the wound). Harley smiled sympathetically, scooting closer and wrapping an arm over Peter's chest.

"I know, I know, but it doesn't have to be all bad. I'm not going to leave you alone unless I have to, so you'll have me." He sat behind Peter, running his fingers through the messy brown curls and moving Peter's head onto his chest. "I'm just glad you're ok."

"Yeah... sorry," he chuckled awkwardly, feeling a wave of guilt. "I should've been more careful."

"It's ok, darlin', it's not your fault," Harley insisted, brushing the brunette's cheek lightly. "But maybe you should get some rest. It'll help you heal." Peter nodded, closing his eyes and sighing.

"Yeah, it really hurts..."

"You got stabbed, love, of course it does." Peter snorted, settling into a comfy position.

"Mhm, I know..." Harley smiled, kissing Peter's head.

"Goodnight, darlin', I love you."

"I love you too."

wOw aNoThER cLiChE eNDinG

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