#I think its just.....the nostalgia and innocence and naivety of childhood

[evils-corner]

Sometimes I see mention of the first warrior cats book and it feels so...nostalgic to me. It feels like home. It's comforting. Just Firepaw and his friends learning and growing together when they were young and naive. Before the plot thickened and before he was really thrust into the politics and tragedies of the clans.

[shadedrose01]

Only Us

Ship: Parksborn (Peter Parker/Harry Osborn)

Authors Note: A fluffy drabble I wrote quickly for fun. Based off the Spider-Man 2017 cartoon, not edited. Hope you guys enjoy! ❤💞❤

Edit: I'm stupid and forgot to add a spoiler warning. Spoilers for season 1 of the cartoon!!

--

It'll be us, it'll be us

And only us

And what came before, wont count anymore

Or matter. Can we try that?

"Cya!!"

"Get home safe, you two!"

"We will, bye!" Harry calls over his shoulder, to their three friends sitting on the steps Horizon High, Gwen and Anya in their fancy blue and red gowns, respectively, and Miles slicked back in his full black tux.

Peter echoes his words as he matches their steps, trying not to stumble as his attention shifts into the same thing it has been all damn night, Harry fricken Osborn himself and his goddamn suit. Because, while the rest of their friend group had dressed up nicely, him included in his burgundy hand me down vest and pants from his Uncle Ben and nice white dress shirt, Harry had outbeaten them all. To Peter, anyways.

The taller boy was wearing a dark navy blue velvet tux, with a bright white shirt tucked into his pants and a matching tie to bring it all together, and man is it doing things to Peter he'd rather not admit. It fits him in all of the right places, most likely tailored to him (unlike Peter's too big around the shoulders coat and rolled up pants), and the darker color brings out the lightness of his eyes, almost a cool gray in the light of the moon and yellow from the street lamps, while simultaneously meshing with his jet black hair, mostly slicked back except for the front, which had puffed back up in the hours of stuffy heat and the jumping that he had called dancing, combed back into a quiff only by his hands, messy and unmade but still so unbelievably perfect to Peter. It makes him forget how to breath, the ethereal beauty that is Harry Osborn, the perfection of the diamond that had escaped from the heat and pressure of Norman Osborn's clutches, and he barely notices that he's walking right towards a light post until he's right in front of it, and jerks out of the way at the last second.

Harry snorts of a laugh, and places a hand onto his arm to help steady him and help him keep up with the steady trot they've started. "You alright, Pete? You didn't sneak in some alcohol behind my back and didn't tell me, did ya?"

Peter turns to retort, to give back some snarky response as he always does, but then he's staring at harry again, into his bright, shining orbs and wide grin and raised eyebrow and his words dissolve on his tongue, his breath mysterious gone again. "Uhm, n-no?"

"You sure about that?" The taller boy starts at him quizzitively, but there's a hint of something else, of concern in his gaze. "You've been acting kinda weird tonight."

Peter feels his stomach twist with a guilt he hasn't felt around Harry in a while, since he had told Harry about Spider-Man honestly. After his biggest secret (or, what had been his biggest secret) had come to light, and the inevitable fight that came after was over, the two friends had been closer than ever, thicker than thieves, and they had promised to tell each other everything. No more secrets, no more lies. And Peter had broken that.

At least, for the past few months. He didn't mean to! Not really. He hadn't even noticed that he was gaining feelings, and feeling more for his childhood best friend until Anya and Gwen had cornered him in the lab and asked how long they'd been together, why they hadn't told them. After they talked, and he figured out he liked- no loved, its love at this point (oh god)- Harry, he didn't know what to do. How was he supposed to tell him that? When there was no sign that Harry felt the same (no matter how many times the girls, and then Miles too once he caught onto it, told him otherwise), when it could ruin everything between them. He didn't want to lose his best friend. Not again.

But that was the thing, wasn't it? The last time Peter had kept a secret this big away from Harry, it had almost ended in them severing, in the loss of their friendship, and Peter couldn't handle that. He couldn't lose him, not completely.

So, he had gathered up his courage, as much of it as he could muster being Peter Parker and not Spider-Man, and told himself and his friends that he was gonna do it tonight. He had planned to do it before the party, and then at the party, and then during the dance, and had proceeded to chicken out each and every time. But he knew he had to do it. He had to. And it had to be tonight.

"Yeah, yeah I'm sure." He breathes out, glancing anywhere but at the boy beside him, matching him step for step, inhale and exhale, heart beating at almost the same time, Peter's only slightly quicker in his nerves. "I'm okay, Harry, I promise."

"Okay, if you're sure." Harry shrugs it off, as he always does, something he truly, utterly loves about the boy. He knows when to back down, and trusts that Peter will tell him whatever he needs to know. Its the simple, whole hearted faith in him that makes Peter's heart swell, and his face warm, even in the slight chill of the early summer night. They take a few more steps, their feet crunching in the light frost coating the pavement sidewalks beneath their feet until he speaks up again, his voice light, barely a sigh, almost a whisper, a shy truth. "Today was amazing. I almost don't want it to end."

"Me neither," Peter murmurs honestly, his heart stuttering as he realizes his time for telling the truth is running out. He spots the shadow of a jungle jim in the distance, the shine of the street lights reflecting off of the metal slide, dented and scratched up with use, and stops. "Maybe it doesn’t have to, yet."

Harry stops beside him, basically as soon as he does, so in tune with Peters sudden antics that it happens almost subconsciously, leaning on his right side as his eyebrows furrow. "But we already texted Aunt May, she's probably waiting on you to come home-"

"She can wait, she'll understand." He rushes forward, then, glances quickly both ways before running across the street and towards the playground, hearing Harry bark out a laugh and a "Peter!" before his lighter footsteps trail behind him. Peter just chuckles with a grin, flipping around to stare at his best friend and ignoring the stutter in his heart. "Don't you remember this place? We used to play here all the time!"

"Oh I remember," Harry grins as he catches up to him, "You used to push me off the slide all the time."

Peter scoffs playfully, and shoves him roughly with his shoulder. "Yeah, but only because you would do it first."

"Not true!"

"Absolutely true, and you know it!" He sticks out his tongue just as the reach the swings, the bright red paint of the seats almost a pink now due to sun exposure, and peeling, the metal chains holding them up rusty and old. "And these babies!" He exclaims, practically jumping onto the seat and hearing it creek dangerously under his weight, and holding his breath, releasing it only when the swing holds. "We used to play on these all the time."

"See who could go the highest." Harry agrees, sitting on the one beside him with much more ease and caution than Peter had. "Who could go the furthest when they jumped off." There's a hint of sadness, of melancholy in his voice now that Peter hates, hates so so much that he has to turn and face him, to see what was wrong, to see if he could make it better.

But Harry wasn't looking at him. Instead, he was staring up at the sky, at the galaxies and stars barely noticeable throughout the clouds of smoke and smog of the New York City skies, with a hint of a frown tilting his lips, and the multitude of worlds shimmering in his eyes. He's still beautiful, stunning even with the etch of sorrow and nostalgia on his features, his hair swaying slightly in the faint breeze. "It was so easy, back then." His voice is soft, again, barely audible to normal ears but crystal clear to Peter's inhanced ones. He thinks he would've heard him either way, as all of his focus is now captured, captivated by the boy. "We didn't have a care in the world. No stress of saving New York, no fears of- of dying, no pressures of taking over the Osborn Mantel. Just-" He pauses, taking a shuttering breath. "Just innocence. Naivety. Just... us."

"At least that hasn't changed, hey?" Peter murmurs, trying to lighten the mood, and beams when he hears Harry laugh. A faint chuckle, but its a start either way.

"Yeah, yeah." The light smile fades just as fast as it came, the light twinkle disappearing from his eye. "I hope it never does."

"It won't." Peter states, sitting up abruptly, his heart and mind racing as Harry gaze drops from the sky and looks over to him, swirling with so much pain, grief, loss, fear that it makes Peter ache, and he knows what he has to do, knows what he can do to hopefully wipe all those fears away. He just hopes his friends are right, and that it doesn't make everything so much worse.

The smaller boy leans forward, giving plenty of time for the taller to lean back, or move away, giving him plenty of chance to escape this situation if this isn't what he truly wants. But... Harry stays. He stays put, watching intensely as Peter moves closer and closer, his pupils growing as their shaking breath starts to mix, as their noses brush and eyelashes flutter shut, as their lips gently press together with ease, fitting together perfectly almost like two pieces of the same puzzle, almost as if they were made for each other. And then, he's leaning forward too, grasping at the collar of Peter's blazer and pulling him closer, tilting his head to deepen the kiss as Peter grabs at his arms and holds him there, hoping, longing to stay here, in this moment for as long as they possibly can, all of the worries for the future and sorrows of the past disappear in the heat and warmth of the now.

But all too soon, Peter's lungs start to ache, so he eases back just as Harry does, still so in sync even at a moment like this, resting their foreheads against one another as they breathe the same air, Peter's eyes fluttering open to see Harry already staring back, the storm grays turning into bright summer skies, so full of light and warmth and excitement, so full of hope that it makes Peter's heart sing and his chest warm, making a wide smile break onto his face. "It won't." Peter reiterates now, bumping his nose with Harry's just to hear him giggle, light and breathy.

"It better not." Harry warns, his nose scrunching playfully, gaze teasing. "You better not be the type to kiss and leave, Parker."

Peter bursts out laughing, leaning back heavily and causing him to swing slightly as Harry follows suit, chuckling beside him. Once settled down a bit, he glances over with a warm, bashful look. "I wouldn't even dream of it. Not for the world." Harry's face flushes at that, and he glances away shyly, a wide smile on his face.

They don't discuss titles, or what they are, really. But they don't have to. Both of them know, now, that no matter what comes their way, no matter what life throws at them, they'll get through it, together. And thats all that matters.

The world falls away...

The world falls away...

And its only us