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“I’ve spent the last three nights solving the murder of Lin Manuel Miranda in my dreams.”
“Oh? Have you solved it yet?”
“Nope. You, me, and Abraham Lincoln were re-grouping in the choir room going over what we had.”
Peter raised an eyebrow. “Do you remember what we had?”
Harley shook his head. “We had just hit a dead end after asking for tapes from Mamma Mia from the drama teacher from my old school, and then my basketball coach broke out into an elaborate version of Defying Gravity.”
“Huh. Didn’t see that one coming.”
“Mr. Harrington was gonna re-brief us on the case since I didn’t remember any of the details, but then the zombies attacked.”
“Ah, the zombies are back.”
Harley nodded. “The last clue I remember was Abe watching tapes of Lin in the blackbox.”
Peter nibbled at his pen. “Sounds like a busy night.”
Harley nodded again. “It has been.”
There was an awkward lull in the conversation.
Harley and Peter had met on Tumblr through their respective Tony Stark incorrect quotes shit post accounts. When they both found out that the other had been using real quotes, they had finally gotten to talk about their relationships with Tony Stark to someone who truly understood.
As those conversations strayed away from Tony and onto personal lives and interests and deep dark secrets and existential pondering on the makeup of the universe, they realized that they had a lot more in common than they had expected.
However, this was the first time that they had FaceTimed each other, and neither really knew what to do or say.
“Truth or dare?”
Peter snorted. “Really? Is that how bad my conversation skills are? That we have to stoop to Truth or Dare?”
“Just pick one,” Harley said.
“Alright. Fine. Truth.”
“Tell me a secret.”
“What are you? Ten?”
Harley shooed him with his hand. “I’ll tell you a secret if you tell me a secret.”
Peter pursed his lips. “Uh… hm… I used to have an Instagram where I’d repost screenshoted memes.”
Harley gasped. “You’re a monster. I can’t talk to you anymore. I’m too appalled. Too disgusted.”
“Oh, shut up. It’s not that bad,” Peter said with a laugh.
“It’s internet blasphemy. The lowest of the low.”
“Alright, alright.” He paused. “Well what about you? You got a secret for me?”
Harley froze. “I… well… I’ve fallen for a guy, and I mean faceplanted into a Minecraft ravine for this guy, and I am such a loser that the only way I can tell him is through a juvenile cop out roundabout way by talking about him in third person in a game of Truth or Dare. But he keeps me sane and he makes me happy and he makes me feel like I’m finally worth something more and he reminds me how to live life with a smile and he inspires me to be the best person I can be and I don’t know how to ask him out like a confident man so instead I’m asking you for advice. What should I do?”
Peter fiddled with his fingers bashfully. “Well, I’d say, you should tell him how you feel. And you should see if he feels the same way.”
“Peter,” Harley started, taking a dry gulp, “I want to be more with you. I want to tell you how much I adore your laugh and shower you with compliments and admire your beauty aloud and be able to come visit you some day and hold you in my arms and kiss you to my heart’s content. Peter, I really really like you. Do you… like me?”
Peter smiled. “Yes. I do. I like you a lot.”
Harley grinned. “Will you be my boyfriend?”
Peter nodded, unable to contain his excitement anymore. “Yes. Yes I will.”