Page 320 of Untouchable

"Hi," Harp says, a few inches from his face.

"Hi." Parker's hands are already wandering south, but something is bothering Harp—a feeling he can't quite get over that Parker isn't telling him everything.

"Hey, it's alright to be nervous," Harp says.

"Who's nervous?"

"I am, for one," Harp says, "It feels like all the pieces are in place for me to fuck up royally again. And I appreciate you being brave and optimistic but you don't have to make it up to me or something."

* * *

“It’s a redo,”Parker says, smiling to cover the anxiety coiling in his stomach. He does trust Harp, and he knows how hard Harp has been working. But he also knows that progress isn’t linear, and there is a distinct possibility that this trip is just as hellish as Gil’s last visit had been—Harp curling in on himself as Parker becomes more and more insecure and anxious.

No, Parker tells himself firmly. Things are different now. Even if the trip is bad, he’s secure with Harp. Nothing, not even Harp’s bratty little brother, can change that. Parker knows where he stands with Harp. He just has to remember that.

“I don’t feel like I have to make it up to you,” Parker clarifies. “I’m not going to pretend I’m particularly looking forward to this. But Gil is important to you, and you’re important to me, so… you know.”

Harp has a strange smile on his face, and Parker cocks his head.

“What?”

“Gil said something similar,” Harp says, gently cupping Parker’s face. “Well, I think specifically he said—” Harp modulates his voice to a surprisingly accurate impression of Gil. “I mean, I guess if you’re really into him or whatever, we should probably… be friends or something. I think it was Gil’s way of saying he doesn’t want to admit you’re growing on him.”

Parker snorts.

“Gee, great,” he says, but he feels slightly more hopeful that perhaps this trip won’t be a complete trainwreck. “And, at the very least, we can eat a bunch of donuts and drink craft brews and… I dunno, climb fir trees or whatever people do in Portland.”

"I think Gil said something about a barcade? If we want to avoid going to an avant-noise grind show or... whatever Gil is working on right now, we should probably stick to drinking and low-stakes stuff."

“What if…” Parker says, trailing his hand down to hook his fingers into the waistband of Harp’s pants. “What if… we told Gil that, um… we both had the stomach flu or something and we just stay here and bang the whole weekend?”

* * *

As if on cue,the doorbell chimes. Harp has a clear sightline to the door and he can see a figure standing out front.

Parker sags against him and rests his head on Harp's shoulder.

"Of course he's early," Harp says.

"What if we pretend he's not though," Parker says, already pouting.

Harp feels like pouting too. He was hoping for a minute to breathe and maybe even walk around the neighborhood for a few minutes before they meet with Gil.

Parker must see the hesitation in Harp’s expression because he goes for the kill, nuzzling his face against Harp’s neck to nip at him as his hand makes its way under Harp’s shirt.

“Just text him or something,” Parker mumbles into Harp’s skin. “Tell him I had a vapid twinkemergency.”

Harp would laugh if he wasn't practically growling with frustration.

Gil begins pounding on the door.

Harp puts his hands on Parker's hips and stills him. "Hold that thought."

Parker looks confused. "Uh, should I—" he gestures towards his bare chest with one hand and their suitcases with the other. "Y'know—"

"Nope. Don't change a thing you don't want to. I'm just going to say hello and goodbye."

"Harp, you don't have to—"

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