As the time for your lunch date rolls around, you step into the living room. 

“Harley?” You ask, seeing Harley standing there with a rose in his hand. He turns around, breaking into a smile when he sees you.

“Hey, (Y/n). Ready to go?” He crosses over to you and grabs your hand, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Yeah. Is that for me?” You tease, pointing at the rose. He blushes, smiling again as he hands it to you.

“Of course it is. A beautiful flower for my beautiful fiancée.” He links arms with you as the two of you walk through the front doors. You try not to frown at the word fiancée. You get in the car and head to lunch.

Your father made reservations at a fancy restaurant in the middle of New York City. Of course.

“Tell me if it gets to be too much. We can leave whenever you want.” Harley whispers into your ear as you’re sitting down in the chair he pulled out for you. You give him an appreciative smile.

“Thank you, Harley.” You nod. He sits across from you.

“So, are you excited about our engagement party tonight?” He asks, grabbing your hand across the table. Your right hand twitches under the table, the dull aching in your wrist rising to slight pain.

“A decent amount. I’m not dreading it, at least. I’m still actually engaged and I’m still getting married, so it’s still an exciting process, you know?” You hum, thinking it over deeply. He nods.

“I get that. Sorry that I’m not Pete.” He chuckles dryly, letting go of your hand to look at the menu.

That must be a sore subject for some reason. You’re not sure why he gets upset at mentioning Peter when he’s the one who brought it up.

“Got a problem with him?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Huh? No, Parker’s fine. Haven’t talked to him in a while.” Harley shrugs, eyes scanning the menu even though you can tell he’s not focusing on the menu.

“Sure. And I didn’t hear you arguing with him the other day?” You put a finger on top of his menu, pulling it down so you can make eye contact with him.

“Fine, fine. He and I are in a little dispute right now, but it’s nothing to worry about. It’s not like you can talk to him, anyway.” Harley shrugs, reminding you of a sore spot of your own.

“Low blow, Keener. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say someone is jealous.” You tell him, half-jokingly.

“I am not jealous, (Y/n/n). Besides, what do I have to be jealous of? I’m the one marrying you.” He chuckles, but you see the small frown he has before he puts the menu in front of his face again.

“You may have me but we both know you don’t have my love, that’s reserved for P--” 

“Can we stop talking about this? We’ve both said our piece.” Harley lowers his menu, making eye contact with you once more. He’s still smiling, but the smile is turning slightly more threatening than loving now.