Chapter Text
Harley is minding his own business in the corner, ignoring the hordes of superheroes and other seemingly important people as they filter in and out of Tony’s home. It’s his first time here, considering he spent five years being dust while Tony went off and retired. He still doesn’t totally get everything that went down, but he knows that in the end, Tony saved the entire fucking galaxy.
And he died doing it.
The house is cute, homey, exactly what Tony has always wanted for himself. Harley has to dig his fingers into his palm against the wave of sorrow that threatens to pull him under. It’s only been a few days since he got the call from Happy and it’s...it still hurts. He thinks it’s always going to hurt, losing Tony Stark—the closest thing he’s ever had to a dad.
He looks up from where he’s frowning at the floor and breathing deeply, and he sees the boy he’d only gotten glimpses of earlier. The boy’s hair is even curlier in the front, his eyes the warmest brown Harley’s ever seen, and there’s a flush sitting on his cheeks as he talks to Pepper. Harley’s heart does something funny, a little pitter-patter in his chest, and suddenly it feels very, very important to go talk to him, seeing as he’s the prettiest fuckin’ thing Harley’s ever seen.
It’s easy to ignore the all-consuming grief now that he has something else to focus on—a mission, Tony would call it, if he were here.
“Hey, Pep,” Harley says, the nickname sliding out of his mouth easily. His voice cracks, but he ignores it, hugging her close the second she turns to him. When he pulls back, her eyes are shining. “Hey, hey, no crying right now. We’re celebrating , right? That’s what we’re supposed to be doing now.”
“You’re right,” she says, and in her next breath, she is the perfectly composed woman she always is, and not for the first time Harley is blown away by her strength. His eyes flick to the boy to find him watching her with an awed sort of reverence, and he hopes he ain’t about to bark up the wrong tree. Pepper must see his gaze stray, because she’s firm when she tells, “Behave.”
Harley gives her a little salute and watches as she goes to get Morgan from where she’s chattering away with...actually, Harley is pretty sure that’s the King of Wakanda. Huh. He turns to the boy and lets his eyes rake over his body, taking in the way the black slacks make his legs look like they go on forever, and how his waist tapers in from a nice set of shoulders.
“Hey there,” Harley drawls smoothly, holding out his hand to shake. When the boy takes it, Harley immediately pulls him forward so he can brush a kiss to his knuckles. It’s only as he’s staring into the boy’s eyes that he realizes who he is. “You’re Peter, right?”
“I-I am,” the boy stutters, his cheeks flushing. It’s fucking gorgeous , and Harley twists his lips into the most charming smile he can muster—taught to him by none other than Tony. “You are?”
“I’m Harley Keener,” he says with a bigger grin, tipping his head in a little bow. Mostly, he uses it as an opportunity to check Peter out again, putting a face to the name he’s heard so much about.
“Oh, Harley!” Peter exclaims, seemingly unaware that Harley is actually still holding his hand. “Mr. Stark has told me so much about you!” The boy deflates as soon as the words are out of his mouth, his entire being dulling at the mention of the reason they’re all here.
Harley’s smile dims too, but he tries to power through. “He’s told me a lot about you too, actually. You were, like, his favourite person.”
“Dude, no way ! You were his favourite!” Peter argues, smiling again. It’s a cheeky thing, something teasing and playful, and Harley thinks he could lose himself it in easily.
He chuckles again, stepping a bit closer as he lowers his voice. “Seems he forgot to tell me how pretty you are, though.”
“W-what?” Peter asks adorably, his fingers tightening around Harley’s own. His mouth drops open as his eyes flick down to their joined his hands, as if he’s just realizing they’re still holding each other.
“So I was wonderin’ if you’d like to join me for some honorary cheeseburgers?” Harley asks, stepping even closer and running his thumb over Peter’s fingers. The boy blushes even darker, and damn , Harley is gone.
“A-are you asking me out? At Mr. Stark’s funeral ?” Peter’s voice raises several octaves, but the squeak in which he calls Harley out in is adorable.
“Yes,” Harley says simply, stepping even closer. “I knew Tony pretty well, and I think he would definitely be okay with me using his reception to pick up the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.”
“Y-you. Really ?”
“Really really,” he says, his other hand resting on Peter’s hip. He has no idea what’s going on around them nor does he care , not when Peter is staring up at him from under his lashes and sucking on his bottom lip. “C’mon, Pete. From what I’ve heard, I think we’d get on great , and that was before I knew you were so damn gorgeous.”
Peter is quiet for a moment, staring up at him as he seems to think over Harley’s proposal. His own heart is racing inside his chest, his hands getting clammy enough that Peter can probably feel the dampness of his palm, but he doesn’t dare back down. He doesn’t think for one second that Tony telling him about Peter was for nothing, and while this may not have been exactly what the old man intended—Harley truly thinks he’d be happy if he saw them.
“Let me go tell my Aunt,” Peter tells him, but before Harley can say anything he’s stepping forward, pressing their bodies together and leaning up to kiss Harley’s cheek sweetly. The second Peter’s lips touch his skin his brain all but short circuits, and he blue screens while Peter pulls back, staring up at him with a pretty smile and a prettier blush. “Wait for me out front, Harles.”
The nickname makes him smile easily, easier than he has in days , and he does a little victory fist bump that has Peter laughing even as he walks away.