a teenager's romance
-Ricky Nelson

Harley wasn't very romantic. If anything, he was awfully awkward and didn't do too well with feelings— not that anyone at Midtown knew that. What his peers saw was the version of Harley that was tough as nails; a natural trouble maker; an anti-social asshole. But none of that meant he didn't mind being painfully single! For fucks sake, he was only human after all.

His idea of a perfect date was going to the arcade and playing dance dance revolution until he felt like throwing up or until he beat his high score— whichever came first. And even if that actually sounded like fun to someone, Harley was unattractively competitive... so that was clearly not going to land him an enjoyable date in time for Valentine's Day. A one night stand, maybe, but even that was in the playing field for being enjoyable or not.

Speaking of playing fields, Harley was close to falling asleep as he stood at home base, swinging his bat around as the coach tried to teach the newest member of their team how to pitch a goddamn baseball! I mean, seriously, you'd think coach would require them to know how to throw a ball before getting accepted into the team. I'm gonna die before the ball gets here!

He threw his head back and groaned loudly while rolling his eyes, earning snickers from the rest of the team. "Coach! I'm gonna go drink water!"

"Keener, can you wait a damn second? He's almost ready—"

"I already left!" Harley yelled after he dropped his bat and walked away to the bleachers. To anyone, he'd been a bit disrespectful, but he'd been on the team since freshman year— coach was an honorary father figure at this point. Plus, Harley was way too good at the sport for the coach to let him go for his mildly aggravating behavior.

He arrived at the bottom row of bleachers where he'd left his gym bag and digs around it for his water bottle. Someone else stepped into the bleachers, a row above the one he was kneeling on, but Harley wasn't paying much attention. He found the reusable bottle and opened it. When he brought it to his lips and tilted his head back to sip, he damn near spat the water back out.

Harley was never easily impressed— he was what some would call an arrogant bitch— but even he couldn't help but look whenever Peter Parker, the most popular and only male cheerleader in the school, was around. Especially when said male cheerleader was bent over like that, digging through his own bag and giving Harley an eyeful of his sinfully tight lycra shorts—

Peter was a well-known name around school. Despite there being multiple boys by that name, when someone said 'Did you hear that Peter—', they were always talking specifically about Parker. At first, he got made fun of for being the only boy in the cheerleading squad, but after a while, his kindness and brains began gaining him popularity. Now, if anyone was hateful toward Peter, they would suffer the consequences of the rest of he school against them. Peter had power in his corner: from every nobody to every top jock. Not to mention he was certainly easy on the eyes...

Who was Harley kidding? Every student, straight and not, swooned over him. He was an ethereal creature; all pretty smiles and wide eyes— ugh, Harley despised how attractive he was.

"Hiya Harley." The blonde blinked out of his trance to find that Peter had turned around to face him. He was smiling brightly, as usual.

"Princess," Harley nodded in acknowledgment, "I see you remembered my name this time." He teases lightly, remembering how the last time they spoke at a party Peter had referred to him as Harvey.

"Yeah... I'm really sorry about last time. That was embarrassing..."

Harley shrugged and went straight to the point, "Can I help you with something?"

"Yeah, actually," Peter stepped down to stand next to Harley, "You know Brendon? The new guy on your team?"

"Well, like you beautifully pointed out, he is in my team. Therefore I am required to know him." He responded dryly, throwing his capped bottle back into his bag.

"Well, see, my friend Hailey— you know her right? She's in my team— anyway, she thinks Brendon is really cute, and they've been sort of flirting with each other in class, but neither has really said how they feel, y'know? But then we heard he was flirting with some other girl— which, no disrespect to her or anything, I'm sure she's lovely, but Hailey is the complete package and—"

"For the love of god, Parker, I'm losing interest and I'm losing it fast, so speed the fuck up. I got practice to get back to."

Peter raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, "Gee, I didn't know swiveling in place with a bat in hand counted as practice." Harley narrowed his eyes threateningly, but inside he was completely shocked. Who knew sweet Peter was capable of being so sassy?... It was weirdly attractive. "Is Brendon single?" Peter finally asked.

Harley rolled his eyes, "I don't know."

"But you said you knew him!"

"Yeah! I know his name is Brendon and he throws ball like a fuckin' grandma! I know he wasted a good half hour of my life, hence why I was 'swiveling in place' instead of practicing! That's what I know, so sorry to disappoint. Would you like to badger me some more?"

Peter blinked and began giggling softly, "You have a bit of a short fuse, y'know that?"

"Yeah, and you have a bit of a short stature, but you don't see me complainin', do ya?"

"Hey!" He giggled a little more and hit Harley's arm lightly, "I'm not even that short!"

"Keep telling yourself that." Harley replied before beginning to walk back to the diamond, not expecting Peter to follow.

He did though. "Hey, Harley?"

Harley grumbled under his breath before replying, "Don't you have a pyramid to get back to, Princess?"

"No, I— wait, first: why do you call me that?"

"Call you what?" Harley throws Peter a smirk over his shoulder.

The brunette blushed slightly as he caught up with Harley's long strides, "Princess." He explained.

"What, you don't like it?"

"I... I'm just curious."

"Well, you're pretty," Harley shrugged as if that was the best explanation he could muster. They arrived at the baseball diamond, where Harley's coach was looking very not happy.

"Where the hell have you been, Keener?!"

"I found a stray," he gestures to Peter, who makes an offended noise.

"Can we keep 'im?" One of the other guys piped up as Harley went to grab his bat from the ground.

"Yeah, he's cute... but he bites. Don't ya, Princess?"

Peter's cheeks were beet red when Harley looked back up at him. But then, a sly smirk grew on his face, "Too bad I can't say the same thing about you. You're all bark, Keener." He said, earning a bunch of whistles and exaggerated yells from the team.

Goddamn it stop looking hot while sassing me!

"Damn, Harls, you're just gonna take that?!" Cherry, the catcher, and one of the only people Harley would actually consider a friend, piped up from behind him.

Harley dropped his bat again and stomped back over to Peter, grabbing him by the arms and pulling him close, so that they were chest to chest. Peter's breath hitched and the butterflies in Harley's stomach were very rude for starting to act up. "You don't wanna see me bite, Parker."

"Maybe I do."

To the test of the group, that sounded like a challenge, as revealed by the hollers they gave once again. But to Harley, who was standing only inches from the other boy, it sounded like an invitation. The slight breathiness in his words had Harley's blood boiling in a very good way and holy mother cow I think I'm in love-

"Alright, that's quite enough, you two." Coach grabbed Harley's shoulder and gently pulled him away, "Peter, go back to your own practice, you're distracting my boys again."

"Sorry," Peter blushed, offering a sympathetic smile, "Good luck on your season, guys," he waves to the team, who all smile and thank him. "Oh! Before I forget! Brendon, Hailey wants you to meet her by her locker after practice." While the boys began to tease the newest pitcher, Peter looked back up at Harley specifically, "I'll, uh, see you around, then."

Harley offered a single nod, "Scram, princess." Peter offered a final smile and wave before walking away.

Coach gave Harley an earful but he was too busy staring at the pretty brunette to notice.

--

It went on for weeks; their strange way of flirting. Peter would say a good morning to Harley when he walked by his locker. Harley, in return, would say something snarky like, 'would be good if I wasn't here.' Then, they would walk to first period together. As time went on, Harley found himself opening doors for Peter, walking him to classes they didn't share,  and holding his books for him-- All to be rewarded by a timid smile and, eventually, kisses on the cheek. (Which Harley refused to react to,  by the way. He brushed them off every time, as if he wasn't feeling his insides twist). It was disgusting. He liked Peter so much he wanted to throw up.

Peter didn't see Harley the way the rest of the school saw him. Peter was sensitive and cautious with him, but not overly so-- just enough for both of them to be comfortable. He knew that Harley wasn't all punches and threats; he treated him like he treated him with respect and kindness. He asked every time before kissing Harley's cheek and before going in for a hug (even though Harley had said he didn't have to). He asked before assuming about Harley's family, about his friends, about his grades, about his sexuality.

Harley loved that about Peter.

He liked Peter a lot.

Which was why he was so damn nervous to give him the custom bouquet of flowers he'd spent a good amount of time and money on. The arrangement was made up of two dozen peach roses and a few twigs of baby's breath, all wrapped up in paper with a bow to match the roses. It was beautiful, just like Peter.

This was without a doubt the cheesiest shit Harley had ever done. And on Valentine's Day nonetheless.

He'd been sitting in his truck, in the school parking lot, fidgeting for what felt like hours. Part of him said he should wait until after school, so that they could be alone. The possessive part of him wanted Peter to carry and show off his flowers all day.

Harley knew all too well that many other people had gotten Peter valentines. He got a ridiculous amount of love letters, teddy bears, flowers and candies every single year. And Peter gave out cupcakes every year to the people who didn't have any valentine's (because of course he did). So there was a very high possibility that Harley's roses would be just another part of the gift pile and Peter wouldn't acknowledge them as a confession of Harley's feelings. And all Harley would get in return would be a cupcake.

He didn't make up his mind until he received a text message from Peter asking him where he was with a frowny face at the end. Harley smiled and didn't even bother responding. He grabbed the roses and jumped out of the car.

He doesn't remember how he got to Peter's locker so fast. All he recalls were students not-so-secretly murmuring around him, clearly asking themselves who the anti-social star player of the baseball team was going to ask to be his valentine. Peter was talking with a student, clearly thanking them for the miniature box of chocolates he'd been gifted. They hugged and Harley immediately felt discouraged, but he figured it wouldn't be easy to hide the giant bouquet of roses in arms, so he stayed still. The other person left and Peter turned to close his locker, and that's when he got glimpse of Harley.

The way his eyes lit up so brightly took Harley's breath away.

"Harley... gosh, those are gorgeous..."

The blonde cleared his throat, "Glad you think so. 'Cause they're, uh, they're for you." And he all but shoved the roses into Peter's arms.

A couple of students had stopped to stare and murmur about them. A small group of guys was snickering at him, making Harley feel extremely self conscious; something he hadn't felt in a very long time. Peter heard them too. He made that very clear when he directly glared at the boy who whispered all too loudly, "Poor guy thinks he's got a chance." That shut the guy up real quick.

Harley looked down at his shoes in shame until a delicate hand grabbed his chin and tilted it up slightly, "You are the sweetest, cowboy." Peter smiled, looking at Harley as if he'd hung the moon and stars.

The blonde chuckled at the nickname, feeling himself relax a little bit, "you really like 'em?"

"I love them! Really, Harley, they're so beautiful, thank you." Peter tackled him in a hug, being mindful to not harm the roses in any way. Harley huffed at the force of the hug but smiled, wrapping his arms around Peter's shoulders.

"You didn't ask me if I was okay with a hug." He teased. Peter tries to pull back immediately, but Harley doesn't let him, "I was joking. How many times do I have to tell ya? I always want hugs from my princess."

He felt Peter's heart rate pick up, "your princess?"

Fuck.

Shit.

Fuck.

"Shit, I... I mean... if you wanna be mine... in the future, that is."

Peter looked up from where he was pressed against Harley's chest and smiled, his cheeks as peachy as the roses in his hand, "I'd really like that." He stood on his toes and kissed the corner of Harley's mouth, making him smile stupidly.

"Okay, you're getting too mushy with me now."

Peter giggled and pressed another kiss to Harley's jaw, "I got you a gift too."

Harley's hear stutters, "You... you did?"

"Uh-huh," he nods, beginning to laugh just thinking about the ridiculous thing waiting in his car, "but you're gonna hate it."

Harley doesn't hate it. In fact, it's the best, most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given him.

Peter starts by handing him a ridiculously giant stuffed dinosaur: a blue triceratops to be exact. Harley rolls his eyes, to Peter's amusement, but he secretly loves how stupidly big it is. Then, he gets an even more ridiculous gift: a baseball jersey with his number 12 on the back, but instead of the usual 'Keener', it reads 'Cowboy' above the number. He laughs fondly, until Peter pulls out a matching jersey for himself, which reads 'Princess' above the number 12.

Harley doesn't really know how to react. The possessive side of him is screaming like crazy. He can't help but blush and tell Peter that he's terribly corny, but he still presses a kiss to his forehead-- the very first kiss he'd ever given Peter.

That's when Peter smiles mischievously and reveals one more surprise, "My aunt's boss gifted her two tickets to the Mets game in a couple of weeks. She doesn't like sports so she said I should give them to my boyfriend..." he blushes red as he hands Harley an envelope, "I told her you weren't my boyfriend and then she told me to ask you out on a date already... so that's what I'm doing now."

Harley blushed too, "I... fuck, you really are perfect aren't you?"

"Far from it," Peter replied shyly, "but is that a yes to the date?"

"It's an of-course-you-oblivious-little-shit." He chuckles, "Even though I wanted to ask you first, but whatever." Peter rolled his eyes and landed back on Harley's chest when the older pulled him in for another hug. "Happy Valentine's day, princess."

Peter sighed happily, "Happy Valentine's day, Harvey."

A beat, and then, "I actually hate you."

--

Happy [late] Valentine's day my babiesss

I cheated in this chapter (I combined two prompts into one day) but I made up for it by writing 2700+ words so 😗✌

I skipped over day 12 because I was so behind and wanted to get this up by valentine's but, don't worry, I'll go back and do that one asap.

Thank you so much for the support so far, by the way, you guys are the sweetest! xx