Hush Little Baby (Discontinued)

Ch. 45

Have some awkward flirting between our boys as a Halloween special.

"Goooooood morning sunshine! The earth says hello!"

"It's gonna be saying goodbye in about ten seconds," Harley muttered, burying his face in the pillow.

"Don't be like that, Harley."

"I'll be like that all I damn well please."

A soft slap upside the head was all the acknowledgement he got for his words.

"How'd you-" he yawned. "Even get in here?"

"Happy gave me the key card."

Harley turned his face back into the pillow, groaning tiredly. "Happy's a traitor."

"Don't-"

"If you say don't be like that, I swear I'll murder you."

"MJ would protect me."

Harley scoffed lightly. "MJ would help me hide your body."

Peter tilted his head, thinking over the statement. "...true. May would protect me though."

"Debatable."

"I'm a ray of sunshine, and you're lucky to know me."

True.

"Not when you wake me up at-" he slapped a hand over the surface of the bedside table, picking up his phone to squint at it. "At seven in the freaking morning."

"I brought you food though."

"Hm." Although he'd planned on drawing it out a little, he raised his head, curiosity piqued. "What kind?"

"I'm not gonna attempt the name, because I know I'd sound ridiculous, but there's some kind of apple pie thing."

"You're gonna have to sell it a bit more, darlin'."

"I also have a strawberry strudel."

"Ooh. Dibs."

Peter laughed softly, going over to the small kitchenette to dig around.

Sounds of clanking and cutlery met his ears, and Harley rolled over dramatically. "I should probably get up, huh."

"Probably the wisest course of action," Peter agreed solemnly.

"Since when do I do what's wise?" Harley wiggled his fingers towards the bag the other teen was holding. "Gimme."

"I only give strudel to people who are out of bed."

Harley threw his legs over the side of the bed, standing with a groan. "Is that out of bed enough for you?"

Peter smiled beautifically. "Perfect."

He stepped closer to hand the napkin wrapped pastry over.

Seeing an opportunity, Harley swept his leg behind the other teen, tripping Peter onto the bed.

Peter yelped, one arm flailing, and managing to catch hold of Harley's wrist, pulling him down as well.

They landed in a pile, laughing breathlessly.

"You know what, Parker?" Harley folded his arms on top of Peter's. "I think that you're full of it."

Both of them knew that Peter could easily throw him off if he wanted to, but they pretended otherwise.

Peter's eyes gleamed with hidden laughter. "You're one to talk."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You've got a crap ton of bravado for such a short guy."

Harley scoffed, affronted. "That's playing dirty. Besides, I'm taller than you."

"I'm gonna forget you said that. But no, you know what's dirty?" Peter wrinkled his nose. "You. Go shower and brush your teeth. Your breath stinks."

"Ouch. That hurts."

"Go."

With a put upon sigh, Harley scooped up the strudel, taking a bite. "Om'god tha's ama'ing."

Peter laughed softly, propped up on his elbows. "You're disgusting."

Harley swallowed with difficulty, using his thumb to swipe away the filling from the edge of his mouth. "I'm amazing. You're jealous."

"Sure." Peter flopped back onto the bed, voice sardonic. "You're absolutely right. I'm jealous."

"Glad you admit it."

"Happy's got a driver waiting for us whenever you're ready to go." Peter's change of conversation came as little surprise.

"Yeah?" Harley carried a pile of clothes to the door of the bathroom, stopping just outside. "Well, let me just get a shower, and we can go. They'll be transferred today, right?"

"Yeah. Dad's up and about, of course."

"Sounds like him."

Peter waved a hand vaguely towards the bathroom door. "Get your shower and we can go bug him while he's stuck in one place."

"Good idea."

"All my ideas are good ideas." Peter gave a lazy thumbs up. "The sooner you learn that the better."

"The day I learn that will be the day that pigs fly."

Peter pushed himself back up on his elbows, eyes narrowed judgementally. "Is that a country saying?"

"What? No. It's a universally used idiom, okay."

"I mean, I've definitely never heard it before."

"Then you're in for a shock, sweetheart," Harley said teasingly. "When I tell you that not every word I say singularly belongs to my little town of Rose Hill Tennessee. Anyway, I could wax poetic all day long about my boots, my truck, or my gal."

The judgemental squint got even squintier, and Peter shook his head. "What?"

"Course," he continued. "It wouldn't do any good, seeing as I have none of the three, and don't want any of the three."

Peter grinned. "What, you're never gonna kiss a girl in the bed of your old muddy truck, while wearing your favorite boots?"

"Absolutely not." Harley grinned impishly. "Nevermind the fact that no truck of mine is ever going to be that horrifyingly muddy, I don't have boots. And if I ever kiss a girl, I want my mama to smack me."

Something weird flashed across Peter's eyes, and Harley tipped his head slightly.

Then it cleared, and the other teen hummed. "Good policy. Might have to adopt it for myself. May's got quite the hard smack."

Harley lifted his chin slightly. "You're...?"

Peter shrugged nonchalantly, but the other teen could see the hidden unease. "Yeah."

The heavy moment was shaken off when Peter clapped his hands together abruptly, and pointed to the bathroom again. "Shower."

Harley inhaled deeply, nodding. "Yeah, yeah- shower."

He shut the door, and the sounds of the shower starting up blocked out any sounds of movement.

Flustered Peter and Harley is the best, amiright?

Getting into the 'I definitely like him/what do I do about it now' territory.

Excited?

I sure am.