There’s a year where both Aunt May and Norman Osborn are dead (or believed to be). Harry’s in the middle of his addiction, and Peter’s on the outs with all of his girlfriends.
Peter is planning to spend the whole night of Christmas eve patrolling the city, but he’s interrupted just before he’s going to leave by a very drunk Harry knocking on the door and singing a Christmas carol at the top of his lungs.
Peter pulls him inside– if only to stop him singing and the neighbors complaining. He’s only intending to let him stay for a few minutes, but Harry doesn’t seem safe to leave alone, swinging back and forth between broadly jovial, and on the verge of tears.
Eventually Peter decides that whatever’s going on in this city, this is the place he can do the most good that night. He makes some coffee, and calls in an order for chinese food, hoping to sober Harry up a little.
The heat in Peter’s tiny apartment is terrible, so they end up spending the night snuggled under the same blanket on Peter’s couch, watching “It’s a Wonderful Life” on broadcast tv and eating chop suey, before they fall asleep right there.